#this made me so happy to write but i spent at least thirty minutes on this. feeling normal about supernatural once again guys!

[yarrystyleeza]

Happy birthday tomorrow Yuna! Hope you'll have an amazing day ❤️❤️

As for a request... When I saw you would write for Daryl, I knew I had to send you something. Season 1 and 2 Daryl lives rent free in my mind, so can I please request:

"when they tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear while you talk" and "brushing against each other, even if there is enough room"

Thank you in advance and again, Happy birthday 😁❤️🎉

Awww thank you my love, sorry for answering this late, hope you didn't mind it, it was stupid of me! 😅💖💖💖

I was stuck with the plot of the request for the last two months until last night, I literally wrote this in less than 10 hours lol 🤣🤣🤣 hope you enjoy it, though, and sorry for keeping you hanging! 💖💖💖 You're so welcome and thank you for dropping this request and for the birthday wishes! 🥰🥰🥰

Little Things (D.D)

Requested by @munsonownsmyass

Pairing and dynamic: Daryl Dixon x female! reader, idiots in love

Prompt: fluff, s1!s2!Daryl, tucking hair behind ear, brushing against each other even if there's enough room + petnames for the cherry on top!

Word count: 1.4k!

Writer's note: I loved writing this one so much! As you lily, season one and two Daryl is my favorite Daryl era (beside S8). Not 100% proofread but I hope you really enjoy it, have a great day! <3

"Hurt y'self, little thin'?" He teased, watching you lying on the forest bed after your foot faltered and slipped you into the bottom of the hill. Your brows knitted, you rolled your eyes, he chuckled at the face you made, "alright, I'm comin'."

He slides down, smoothly, and a little bit pompously—with a smirk on his face. You can't lie—he made you smile though you desperately wanted to punch him right in the face.

He offered his hand to you and you accepted his help. At first, he let you wrap your arm around his neck as he walked you towards the hill exit—but as it turns out, you sprained your ankle so bad it was impossible for you to take another step. He scooped you in his arms and carried you back to the quarry.

And that's how you met Daryl.

You can't admit he wasn't a pain in the ass most of the time—if not always, getting on your nerves and driving you up the wall, it was so constant you started thinking he was doing it on purpose.

It kinda was. Daryl had serious troubles with conveying his emotions, and that idiot had a sickening crush on you ever since he saw you at the camp with the girls. He wanted your attention and he only got it when he drove you mad, so he tooled it in his advantage.

You were his favorite. You're the only one he talks to—other than his brother, Merle—and you, too, are the only one who wants to talk to him.

You too had a crush on him. His silly fights and bickering became more amusing to you—sometimes you couldn't even contain the smile drawn across your face when he's mad about something so stupid and could be fixed in complete silence, and when you gave him your smug face—it always drove him insane. You learnt he's quick-tempered, but these ones were visibly made up just to get a chance to be with you.

Daryl reminded you of those little boys in the playground when they used to ruin the girls' sand castles or pull their braids and ribbons just to get their attention. Ever since you came up to this conclusion—life has never been easier!

But things changed a little bit after the attack on the quarry. Daryl turned from only being a hot-headed idiot to be completely protective of you, but that doesn't mean he stopped getting angry—God forbid he does! But he got more reasonable and collected—around you, at least.

As soon as you got to the CDC, he grew closer to you, more friendly, more worried, more caring. He barely slept the night you spent there, checking on you every thirty minutes to make sure you don't need anything—despite you being a wall apart. It was adorable, and it stirred something in you.

Same night at dinner, right before you went to bed, he sat beside you as you dined, he made sure your plate was full and that you'd eaten well because 'it's been a while since you got a decent meal', he says.

And in the middle of the chaos the following morning—he solely cared for you, and not a thing was going to stop him from smashing Dr. Jenner's head that morning if it wasn't for you calming him down.

The two of you escaped in his pickup truck. But despite the horror you had just fled, you couldn't stop stealing glances at each other, Daryl was focused on driving but you spotted him staring at you with soft eyes a couple of times. Both of you blushed, multiple times—vividly, but you couldn't stop. Something was so amusing and sweet about the way he was looking at you, and you were so tempting to him he couldn't stop staring at you even if he wanted to.

Now, staying at Hershel's farmhouse, Daryl turned out to be that sweet lovey dovey guy who'd absolutely melt under your touch—in complete opposite to the face he's been showing to everyone.

As you went out to search for Sophia, Daryl offered to accompany you. He kept brushing arms with you, pumping into your side, and gently holding your biceps to guide you as you walked. He kept putting himself between you and any threat, not letting you shed a drop of sweat—you were almost a passenger princess, but on foot.

But it was very obvious the night he got shot—your heart dropped when it happened, and when you learned it was your Daryl and not some misinformation. You couldn't watch as they took the bullet out, you couldn't watch him screaming in agony—yet you heard him from behind the door. It tore your heart into pieces.

The night fell as you sat on the chair next to his bed, your head dripping every couple minutes as you drifted in and out of sleep. Your head was heavy as a rock sinking in the ocean—yet you kept fighting Mr. Sandman back, shaking your head and rubbing your eyes and patting your face.

"Go to bed, pet," he softly demanded, "ye're tired from sittin' here all day," he extended an arm, gently placing it on your thigh and squeezing it chastely, "ya need some rest."

You shook your head, "I'm fine, Daryl," you shrugged, "it's not like it's the first time I stay up late."

Both of you stay silent, staring at each other with soft eyes. "Climb up in 'ere," Daryl says, his voice was tinted with plead "at least you won't have to keep droppin' yer head like a sippy chicken."

"No, Daryl," you shook your head in utter refusal, desperately trying to show him how awake you are despite craving a warm bed, "you need your own space. What if I accidentally hit your wound--"

"Come on, pet, you know you won't..." he softly smiles, shaking his head. You sigh and climb into the bed with him and he shares his blanket with you. He turns to face you, the moonlight is perfectly casted upon your faces, his blue eyes sparkled and reflected you like a looking glass. He grazes your cheek, tucking your stray hair back behind your ear and his fingertips linger on the skin of your neck.

"Get some sleep, love," he caresses your hair, "I won't need nothin' when ye're right next to me."

You woke up tangled up in his chest, it was warm and peaceful. You never wanted to slip out of his arms—if it wasn't for Hershel coming over to check on him and the men accompanying him.

Daryl got better as the days gone by. You started to see him in the kitchen fetching some biscuits or chips, he'd pump into you on his way out, brushing arms with you and glancing at you with his blueies and a smile. And if he's in the right mood, he'd take you off guard and peck your cheek, and you'd turn red and try to bite your smile. He caught it had quite the right effect on you, and he's been doing it ever since.

"Let it down, pumpkin," Daryl flirts as he snatches the scrunchie out of your hand as you tried to tie your hair, "love it when it's coverin' yer pretty face, gives me a reason to keep tuckin' it back."

"But we're going on a mission," you protest, "it would be dangerous for both of us!"

Daryl takes a run around the golden field and you chase him—but he overpowers you and you stop running, panting and clutching your chest as he giggles. He mischievously walks back closer to you, so you try to take it back, but he's taller than you, stretching his hand up with your scrunchie and shaking it to tease you. "Ya ain't tiein' it today, darlin'."

"Give it back!" you giggle as you jump to reach for your scrunchie, but he keeps stretching his arm above his head.

"Ye look so cute like that, pumpkin," he pulls a smug face as you lean forward against him, your chests compacting and you're an inch away from kissing.

"You could've told me you wanted to kiss me," you tease, not minding that he lowered his hand back down. He tucks your stray bangs behind your ear, ending up doing what he wanted to do all along.

"But it's more fun to watch ya tiptoe and lean on to me like that," he rounds you with his big arms, pulling you deeper into his chest with a Bastard smirk on his face, "it makes you even prettier, pet. These little things you do."

Likes and reblogs are appreciated, thank you for coming to my birthday sleepover celebration! 💞💞💞

[morbific-or-felicific]

-AGNOSTHESIA PART 3 Featuring Scaramouche’s

Part 1 Part2

Meaning: The state of not knowing how you really feel about something, which forces you to sift through clues hidden in your behaviour, as if you were some other person

Word Count: 2.6k~

Description: After you almost fail your midterm Scaramouche decides to punish you

Edited By: @pretty-princess-peach

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You were in the library, sitting across the table from your boyfriend. You could feel his eyes on you while you read through the notes he had helped you make. The two of you had a midterm in half an hour, and you were hoping to at least get a seventy five…however out of reach that may be.

“You know, if you don’t know the material by now, you aren’t going to magically learn it in the next thirty minutes.”

You let out a sigh and met your boyfriend's gaze.

“Are you going to let me stop studying then?”

“Do you really think you can afford to stop? You do know how stupid you are, right?”

You stopped yourself from rolling your eyes and returned your focus to your notes.

As you studied, Scaramouche lazily scrolled through his phone, texting and watching videos. It frustrated you to no end to know that, despite his lack of effort, he would no doubt earn the highest mark in the class. Meanwhile, you* were working as hard as you possibly could while still running the risk of failing, with Scaramouche’s ominous threat of ‘punishment’ hanging over your head.

You barely noticed when Scaramouche started gathering his things to head to class, having to have him snap his fingers in front of your face to break your focus. Finally, you gathered your notes, and the two of you made your way to class.

~ ♡ ~

Although you swore you had only spent twenty minutes writing the test, you supposed the full hour and a half must have passed since everyone who was still writing was instructed to hand in their tests. You had managed to finish just in time, but you weren’t feeling very good about how you had done.

You made your way out of the classroom to where your boyfriend had been waiting for you, laying across a few chairs he had somehow come into possession of. As you got closer to him, he looked up from his phone and stood up. He was happy to see you but also rather concerned about how upset you looked.

“How did it go?”

He spoke with uncharacteristic softness and concern.

“I don’t think it went very well…”

You felt rather hopeless about the whole situation and had already resigned yourself to failure.

“Come on, with how hard you’ve worked? I’m sure that you did just fine.”

You didn’t respond, choosing to instead stare dejectedly at the floor. Scaramouche offered a soft smile.

“Come on, let’s get out of here. We can go get food and watch a movie.”

You stayed silent for a moment, thinking over the proposal.

“That actually sounds really nice.”

“Come on then.”

He grabbed your hand and dragged you to his car.

~ ♡ ~

It had been exactly nineteen days since you had taken your midterm, and you had finally been emailed the results. You sat at your computer staring at the unopened email. You knew that you had probably failed, but you didn’t want to know that you had actually failed. You took a deep breath, did your best to relax your body, and opened the email. You scanned through the words and eventually found your results. You had passed. You swore you had never felt so relieved in your life. Granted, you had only gotten a 58, but that was more than enough for you. You wiped away a few tears of relief and flopped back in your chair. You took out your phone and called your boyfriend.

“Hello-”

“I passed.”

“Seriously?!”

“Yes!”

“Well that’s no surprise. You have me as your tutor, afterall.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the smile that made its way onto your face. Although he was clearly trying to hide it, pride was evident in his voice.

“Thank you, baby.”

You heard Scaramouche let out a little puff of air from his nose.

“Wanna come over so we can celebrate?”

“I guess I can.”

“Did you pass?”

“Is that even a question?”

“Well congratulations, you are the reason everyone hates being marked on a curve.”

You actually heard your boyfriend laugh at that.

“It’s not my fault you’re all inept.”

“Are you coming or not?”

There was a brief silence.

“I’ll bring food.”

“See you at 5:00?”

“Alright, love you.”

And with that, he hung up. You sighed and sent an “I love you too” text.

You spent the rest of your day doing some chores and some reading, and eventually, Scaramouche was knocking on your door. He brought an obscene amount of sushi, and somehow, the two of you managed to eat all of it.

It was a nice evening. Scaramouche was in a surprisingly good mood(he wouldn’t admit it, but he was quite pleased that you had managed to pass your midterm), and there wasn’t anything left to stress about.

The two of you sat on your couch, scrolling through streaming services. You were nestled under your boyfriend’s arm as he navigated to netflix and started scrolling through movies.

“So what movie do you want to watch?”

“Pride and-”

“No.”

“But you said I could pick!”

“Only if you pick a good movie.”

“You haven’t even seen it!”

“Too bad. I’m picking now.”

You sighed but didn’t really protest. You usually ended up liking whatever movies he chose anyway. This time, however, you had gotten somewhat bored about halfway through “Inception” and decided to grab your phone to scroll through whatever app seemed interesting.

“You know, if you’re bored, we can do something else.”

The prospect of doing something different admittedly interested you, so you decided to go along with it.

“Sure. What did you have in mind?”

A small smile made its way onto Scaramouche’s face as he stood up, turning off the tv and reaching out his hand to you. You took it and followed him to your bedroom. You certainly weren’t going to complain if he wanted to reward you for passing. As you stood at the end of your bed, he stood away from you, leaning against the now closed door.

“Take off your clothes.”

You blushed, slightly embarrassed by how blunt he was but did as you were told anyway. You began to pull your shirt over your head when he stopped you.

“No. Slowly.”

You looked away from him, even more embarrassed now, and started slowly sliding your hands up your sides, bunching up your shirt as you brought it farther up your body. You pulled it over your head and tossed it onto the ground beside you. Next, you undid the button on your pants and slid the zipper down, but before you could begin to slide them down your legs, you were stopped once again by yet another command.

“Turn around.”

You silently obeyed and turned to face away from him as you slid your pants off, bending at the waist, knowing exactly what your boyfriend wanted from you. When you finally kicked off your pants, you turned back around to face Scaramouche. He had a little smirk resting on his face, and you could now see a bulge beginning to make itself known in his pants. Despite the number of times the two of you had fucked, you were still embarrassed to be almost naked in front of him.

“Why are you stopping?”

Your blush darkened as you reached behind you to undo your bra, letting it fall to the ground and then turning around once again to slide off your panties. Scaramouche bit his lip as he watched you. Fuck, you were so good for him. It’s too bad he had to punish you for almost failing your midterm, not that you were aware of that yet.

You turned around once again to face your boyfriend, and he began to move towards your closet, where he kept a few things for situations such as these. You were a little confused as to why he would want to use any of those things when he was rewarding you, but you didn’t question him. You fully trusted Scaramouche and knew he would never hurt you… well, unless you wanted him to. You continued not to question him when he brought out a coil of rope and told you to get on your hands and knees on the bed.

Although, you were still confused. He knows that you like being able to touch him, so why would he be using rope? You finally decided to question his actions when he had finished tying you up, a bad choice on your part. He had just finished the last knot when you piped up.

“Uh, why are you tying me up?”

“Because stupid little whores don’t get to touch me.”

Okay, now you were very confused.

“But I thought-”

“Dumb girls who almost fail their exams don’t get rewarded.”

His words would hurt if you didn’t know how proud of you he was.

“But-”

You felt his hand land hard and heavy on your ass, and your words morphed into a little shout of pain. You tried to wiggle away from him, but with your calves tied to your thighs and your hands tied behind your back, you couldn’t move an inch. You felt his hand land again on the other side of your ass as he reiterated his point.

“Don’t you think brainless sluts should get punished? I’m sure it’ll help get some sense into that empty head of yours.”

You could hear the smile in his voice. You heard him step away, and with you unable to move, you had no idea what was coming next. As his footsteps came closer again, you felt a finger run along your slit.

“You’re so wet already, pathetic.”

Your cheeks were burning. As he began to play with your clit, you started to let out little moans and whines. Fuck, he was good at that. You could hear how wet you were, his fingers starting to push in and out of you rhythmically. If he kept going, you were going to cum. Fuck, fuck, fuck. It felt so good. It felt like he was turning off your brain. All you wanted was for him to make you cum, and maybe for his cock to be inside of you. That would be nice too.

“Fuck, master, I’m going to cum!”

As soon as those words left your mouth, his fingers had been removed from you.

“No! Please! I need it! Please, let me cum!”

You were so close. You needed it so bad. Scaramouche knew that, and frankly, he couldn’t care less. Stupid girls don’t get to cum.

He teased you like this for at least half an hour, although it felt like an eternity. He kept bringing you to the edge just to steal away your end with a derisive laugh.

“Do you have any idea how pathetic you sound?”

You let out a particularly pathetic whine.

“‘Oh, master, please let me cum! I’ll be a good girl, please!’. You’d be worthless if you didn’t feel so good on my cock.”

Warm tears slid down your face, but you could feel yourself get wetter at his words. Scaramouche walked around the bed so he could take your face in his hands.

“Fuck, you look pretty when you cry.”

More tears ran down your face, despite the warmth you felt from his words.

“I should just keep you tied up so you can cry for me and be a good little fleshlight. That sounds nice, right, slut?”

You nodded, not quite sure how to respond. He laughed and walked back behind you. You tried to wiggle away, but you were still helplessly at his mercy.

You heard the clicking sounds of him taking off his belt, and you felt adrenaline shoot through your body. Finally, you were going to feel his cock inside of you.

However, your hopes were quickly dashed when you felt the harsh sting of a belt hit your ass. You screamed. Scaramouche laughed.

“You like that, don’t you, princess?”

You cried louder now, the sound only serving to make your boyfriend more turned on. Once again, you felt his belt come into harsh contact with your ass.

“Count.”

You let out a little shout of pain as another hit came.

“One!”

Your counting was followed by a whimper of pain and a light laugh from Scaramouche. Then the belt came down again.

“Two!”

You whimpered in pain, and your fists clenched behind your back, your nails digging into your palms. You didn’t know how long this would continue for, but you were ready to take whatever he chose to give you, as you always did.

Three more hits came from his belt, each one followed by a shot of pain and a number.

“Five!”

You readied yourself for another hit, but it never came. You jumped when you felt him gently rest his hand between your shoulders, slowly tracing his way down to your waist. Suddenly, he removed his hand, and you could hear him stepping away. He came to sit on the bed in front of you. He rested a hand on your cheek once again and leaned into you.

“Do you want to cum? Hmm?”

He smiled at you mockingly. You nodded emphatically.

“Please! I need to cum, master! Need it so bad!”

He couldn’t help but snicker at how pathetic you sounded.

“Well, if you want it so bad, then okay. I’ll make you cum, sweetheart.”

Fuck. If he’s saying yes, there has to be a catch… unless… was he done punishing you? You quickly got your answer when your boyfriend stood and walked back to where you couldn’t see him.

You heard him fiddling with something, and after a few moments, you felt something cold and plastic run up your slit a few times, collecting your wetness before finally pushing inside of you.

You knew what was coming, but you couldn’t stop the whine that you let out when the dildo started vibrating intensely. You started whining and moaning, not being prepared for the pleasure. Scaramouche walked in front of you once again, this time with a ballgag in hand. He pushed it inside of your mouth and tied it behind your head.

“I’ll be back soon. Don’t worry.”

And with that, you could hear your boyfriend walk out of the room and close the door, his light laughter trailing behind him. You tried to call out to your boyfriend, but everything came out garbled between broken moans. He wouldn’t leave you tied up for too long… right?

~ ♡ ~

You had no idea how long you had been left tied up like this, and you had lost count of how many times you had come. All that you knew was that you were exhausted. Finally, you heard footsteps approaching, and the door clicked open. He was back. Without saying a word, he turned off the vibrations and gently pulled out the toy. He walked around to sit in front of you and untied the gag, removing it from your mouth.

“Did you learn your lesson, princess?”

He smiled as if he were talking to a child. You nodded your head.

“Mhm!”

“Good girl.”

He stroked his thumb on your cheek, and you leaned into his touch. He started to untie you, going through all the knots until you were finally free. You stretched your sore limbs as Scaramouche left the room in search of a warm cloth.

Eventually, he reappeared with a warm cloth and an extra blanket. He cleaned you up and wrapped you in the soft blanket before carrying you back to the couch so the two of you could finish the movie.

Tag List: @lilia-sspouse @but-a-peach @stannazuna @izzalovesdilfs @lordbugs @randomlycockroach @licensedsimp @leena-shi @cesimaaa @welpthisisfine @dainself-when-playable @fic-rebloga @bubblyxdolly @wanderin-stories @iwysbellez @k4ze3e @kenmabfasf @vvyeislazzy @nerdiel-has-no-braincells @hopeless-smvt @bloomingheartz @crazydreamcat @kazumiku @str4wb3rizz @kyon-cherri @ravereina @ashrodisiac

morbific-or-felicific.

[take-everything-you-can]

Mother's Day First's

A/N : So I know this is going to be posted a day late but I work nights. This idea came to me like.. How would Eddie deal with that first Mother's Day without his own mom? What about the first one he shares with his wife ? What about all those that come in-between? but honestly I could write this is so many different ways and I love that about Eddie Munson, just an inspiration Gremlin. I Wrote it this way from a bit of my personal life so I hope that this is something that you guys enjoy.

18+ MINORS DON'T EVEN THINK ABOUT IT

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem reader

WC: 4.8K

TW: A Bit of angst ( mentions death of a parent, car accident, love lost, grief, a sad Wayne, A very Sad Eddie) Some fluff ( Memory lane, moments of pining, cute dad Eddie, flirty, baby girl Munson) And the slightest smut ( Breeding kink)

Also a very special thank you to the person who started my love for writing Eddie fics in the first place and for beta reading this piece @blueywrites and a shoutout to @lesservillain for letting me fill her inbox with all my little ideas!!!! Last but not least thank you @newlips for being the amazing person she is and designing these amazing dividers :)

 A frantic phone call from Chief Hopper had made Wayne bolt from the trailer park to the police station. In under thirty minutes, he would become a parent, unprepared and the farthest from okay. The rain on an early December night had created a sheet of Black ice within a bend towards the outskirts of the small town. One unseen as screeching tires hit, causing an overcorrection and a flip of the small vehicle. There were no airbags in the car as Al had gotten the car from a used lot a few months before getting locked up again. Eddie watched as his mother took her last breath, a miracle he had only sprained a wrist. He had fallen asleep as his mother was driving them home, being unbraced for impact had saved his life.

 When Wayne walked in he found a small raven-haired, rain-drenched, tear-stricken, round-faced Eddie silent and sitting straight in the chair next to Hopper's desk. It was only then that Wayne let himself cry, Looking at Eddie yet hearing the most heart-wrenching news from Hopper he let the tears flow as he waved to cut the conversation short. He took Eddie in his arms, a stronghold, and the emotion Eddie thought was gone for only a second came flooding back running a river down the back of Wayne's worn flannel, a grip that Wayne held onto for days to come. 

December was rigid as the trees began to shed their leaves, making way for the blooms of spring in the coming months. Birds had started to make their way south a few weeks prior when the heat started to drop and the Hawkins air started to become stale. Now Snow started to stick to the ground, the crunch a telltale sign to Wayne that soon everything in sight would be coated. He was just happy to have an extra heater for Eddie as they made their way to the porch and up the steps and into the small living room of the trailer Eddie had started to call home.

A drop of his backpack on the floor was the only thing Wayne could hear through the closed door of the room he had emptied so Eddie could have his own space. His nephew had spent weekends or spontaneous nights when things got a bit rough at home with him but the permanent move was starting to harsh his confidence in whether he could do this or not. How do you raise a child when you’ve never been in the company of one for longer than three days? Angela had entrusted Wayne long ago he would be a good father; he just figured it would be from his own seed or at least when he could prepare, but death doesn’t care if you’re prepared or not. Death comes for all races and genders, whether you choose to love freely or not it has no care if you're ready for it or not. No Death will make that decision for you. Death chose to take Eddie's mother and leave Wayne To fend the demons off for Eddie with no armor and no sword, at least until Eddie could fend them off himself.  

The weather, in May of 1976, had been damn near perfect in Wayne Munson's opinion. He could go fishing without having to come in from the heat beating him down most of the morning. Something he decided to do the second Sunday to keep Eddie’s mind off of his first year without Angie. Eddie begrudgingly agreed knowing it was more for Wayne than it was for him. Every year Eddie watched as Wayne would bring Angela flowers and a small cake from her favorite restaurant across town. Every single Mother's Day. He had done those things before Eddie could remember them but this year was the first that Wayne also didn’t have her and even though she had been Eddie's mom, to him it felt like Wayne needed this more than he did. Like someone who loved his mother far longer than he had a chance to. Wayne Munson was truly a father figure way beyond before he was forced to be one. It would take a few years to admit it to Eddie but he had pined for his mother since their school days, being the shy man he was, he never could muster up the courage to ask her out, at least not before Al had anyway. It was something that ate him up inside until the day she left this world. Eddie always knew. In some ways, he had almost hoped they would just get it over with already and spill their feelings to each other. Eddie hated that he felt that way about someone who wasn’t his actual father. Aren’t kids supposed to always want their parents to always stick together? To love each other through it all? He felt like his father didn’t deserve the love that Wayne and Angela had given him but it was true. He deserved love but not theirs, it was too pure for him, too unselfish and undeniable for anyone close. Something he would know nothing about. 

Wayne had packed a small cooler and relined his favorite fishing poles all in the early morning hours as he let Eddie sleep in. Not too long, just long enough that the sun had started to peak its way over the large tree that sat behind the trailer and started to peak its rays through the window in the kitchen. 

“Alright boy up and at’em, the fish ain’t gonna catch themselves.” Eddie groaned as Wayne ripped the old quilt back rushing to shield his eyes as the room became too bright, too fast. Yet he got up as he was told and threw on some clothes from a pile that Wayne had set in his room after doing laundry the night before. 

Sitting at the edge of Lovers Lake Eddie throws a cast out as far as he can and watches as Wayne gets situated a few feet away from him. 

“ You remember when you were like six years old and me and your dad brought you out here and threw you off the dock to teach you how to swim?” The memory shocks Eddie for a second as he wanders through the lane in his memory trying to recall the days that he spent few and far in between with his father doing something other than stealing cars and keeping watch. He chuckles to himself as he recalls the day Wayne is referring to. 

“ The day I almost drowned? Yeah, I remember that.” Wayne smiles to himself.

“ I would have not let you drown boy and ya know it. I remember it as your dad threw you off that dock and you turned into a damn fish. Like you were just meant to be in the water, it took us hours to convince you to come out.” Eddie sits and watches as the fish continues to ignore his line as Wayne clears his throat “ I remember that when we got home you went running to tell your mama that you had met a mermaid in that lake. She asked you if the mermaid had a name since everyone has got a name right? You remember what her name was?” Eddie shook his head as he began inspecting the ground as it grew blurry with each passing second. “ I think you said her name was Marie, your mama said that was the prettiest sounding name she’d ever heard come from an underwater lady.” He lets out a defeated sigh as he takes in Eddie's features. Tears fell silently off his cheeks wetting the shirt he was wearing. He missed his mom and he knew nothing could bring her back no matter how hard he prayed. The longer that prayer went unanswered the less he spent time asking for it. A grief that would never go away. 

“ I miss her too.” The deep sound coming from Wayne startled Eddie out of his thoughts as he looked up to find that Wayne too had tears threatening to spill over his lashes. 

A silence took over, comfortable and familiar. A feeling that Wayne and Eddie had grown accustomed to over the few months they had spent together. The sun began to set and Wayne had caught a few fish. Eddie on the other hand, every time he had caught one he felt too bad to keep it and said they had a life to live so he had to set them free. Wayne didn’t mind, he just saw another reason to love Eddie. A strength that Eddie would grow to thrive on, is kindness, a trait that came solely from his mother. 

 Heading back to the trailer park or so Eddie thought until Wayne took a right turn instead of a left. He sat waiting to see if Wayne would catch the mistake he made but the longer he sat the more he realized Wayne had made no mistake. Wayne was heading across town to a small little cafe called “Tully's”, A small hole-in-the-wall place that served one of the richest red velvet cakes you could ever get your hands on. 

“Wayne, what are we doing?”  Eddie only asks when he sees that old path Wayne had started to head down.  A path they made a few months prior following that shiny black hearse. 

“We are going to give your mother her flowers and cake? What do you think just cause she can’t be here with us we're just gonna stop tradition?” Eddie doesn't know what to say. He shakes his head to Wayne as the truck comes to a stop just outside the cemetery fence.” You want to come to tell your mama hi or do you want to stay in the truck?”  The tears seem to answer for him they haven't fallen but Wayne understands. “ It’s okay, I'm just gonna sit with her for a few minutes and update her on life and I'll be right back. okay? '' Wayne takes the flowers and cake to the third grave within the second row and sits them both in front of an engraved headstone. Eddie watches as he’s careful to sit at the edge of where her coffin lays, legs crossed and a cigarette sitting between his fingers. Talking to his mother like she is answering all his questions. Why can't he get out of the truck? Why does he feel like his body is stuck? Before he could wonder anything else Wayne had opened the truck door and slid into his seat with a single swipe under his eye, he started the truck and they headed home.

Eddie Still can’t believe that the first Mother's Day without his mother has passed. 

The first bloom of tulips and mums had started to spring up in Forest Hills as the temperature began to rise. April had brought so much rain it was a surprise that in May of 1981, the plants were still standing. Eddie is dreading the day as the sun starts to crawl across his floor and climb onto the bed sheets. Wayne had brought home a Tully's cake and sat it on the counter along with some long-stem roses he had bought Angela's favorite. Fishing was a no-go this year as the forecast called for rain most of the day but as Eddie walked outside to sit on the porch for a smoke, he found Wayne finishing off one himself, there wasn’t a cloud in sight, just a gentle breeze.  

“Good morning sunshine,” Wayne muttered as He took in the sight of Eddie. Wild curls and deep purple bags under his eyes. A small smile on his lips as he heard the birds speak to one another.

“Is it a good morning?” He mumbled as he patted his sweats down for a lighter, finding it in the left pocket. Wayne let out a hearty laugh.

“Your mom wasn’t a morning person either, always saying that if the owls are up at night she should be too. A weird one your mother was,” A fond tone that made Eddie's heart squeeze. 

“She liked owls?” Wayne’s eyes grew wide as he nodded his head.

“Oh she loved them, even had a small one tattooed on her shoulder when we were about your age, said they were always the most beautiful creatures she’d ever laid eyes on till she met you.” With the sentiment, Eddie snuffs out the remaining embers on the lit cigarette between his fingers and tells Wayne to wait there on the porch for a second. Stumbling through the small hallway to the bedroom he opens his closet and pulls out a bouquet of lilies one he had picked up on his way home from band practice. Rushing back to where Wayne sat he presented the flowers to Wayne. 

“Oh those are beautiful, your moms gonna love those. You did good boy.” Eddie’s cheek burned pink under the gaze of his uncle. 

“Um, no Uncle Wayne I got them for you.” 

“You got them for me? Why would you get me flowers?”  Eddie thought about it for a few seconds taking a seat next to Wayne hoping he would be able to get out what he was trying to say before embarrassment choked him up. 

“Well see here is the thing, In the sixteen years that I’ve been on this earth I’ve come to realize that you don’t have to be here.” 

“What are you talking about Eddie?”  he lets out a sigh running his hands through his hair doing nothing to tame the wild frizz.

“All I'm saying is thank you for being here. For taking me in, you didn’t have to, you wanted to. Just thank you for being my dad and my mom these past few years.”  Wayne sat silent for a few minutes until he could keep his own emotions in tow. 

“Now don’t give me all the credit, your mama is looking out from above, but thank you for being a good kid, yeah you have some issues but at sixteen you will make mistakes but you are a good kid Eddie no matter what your dad or anyone else thinks. So no son thank you.”  Eddie scratches the back of his neck trying to relieve the sheer embarrassment of compliments given by his uncle. “Hey, have I ever shown you what your mom looked like at your age?” Eddie shakes his head as he follows his uncle into the trailer and waits for him on the couch as he brings over the biggest photo album Eddie has ever seen. Wayne begins to flip through the pages until he comes across an old Polaroid of three kids standing against a set of lockers in the hallway of Hawkins High School. Scribbled in cursive at the bottom it says Al, Wayne, and I Ditching Science.  Smiling as he watches Eddie take the photo. “You have her eyes and her smile ya know?” Eddie smiles to himself and flips to the next page its got a few of a party being held, Eddie’s baby shower to be exact and he stops at a picture of His mother smiling from ear to ear with a forkful of cake as Wayne has a hand on her stomach, eyes wide and on the bottom in the same cursive it reads, Eddie kicking wayne for the first time.  This earns a small laugh from Eddie as he continues to flip through the yellowing pages and stops again once he comes to a picture that was taken about a week before his mother passed away. It had Eddie sitting next to his mother and she had headphones wrapped around his ears as she held up a peace sign on the bottom. It says Eddie is learning what real music is and notes that the song she was making him listen to was The Best Of My Love by The Eagles. Tears begin to burn as they refuse to fall. She had always told Eddie to listen to the lyrics to songs, something he did more and more the older he got. A small pat on the back from Wayne looked on to the photo on the page telling Eddie it was one of her favorite songs and how she would play it on repeat Eddie laughed remembering all the times she would blast music through the house and he never once asked her to turn it down, not when she would dance with him in the kitchen and sing into spoons. Memories he cherished always. Wayne left to take the gifts to Angela's grave leaving Eddie at the trailer, even though it had been a few years he was still somehow not able to make the trip to see his mother.

It was starting to feel like spring was hauling ass into summertime. A long April made the butterflies and bumblebees hum to life as the new green buds began to bloom in the early days of May 1989. After marrying the girl of his dreams Eddie found out shortly after that he was going to become a father. And the last six months of his life had been nothing if not chaotic in the best ways. Waking up at three am had become something he looked forward to letting you get in a little bit more sleep where you could. Eddie was the kind of father to his daughter you dreamed about, attentive and caring of all the things that drew you to him in the first place. As Eddie heated a bottle to feed the little one crying out in hunger a spitting image of you he swore, but if you looked at her long enough you’d see she was all Eddie. Big brown eyes wide and curious, small cupids bow in her top lip, and a nose you just wanted to reach out and press. She even had a small birthmark on her left shoulder blade, one to match Eddie's except he was on his right side. 

Eddie reached over the bassinet wall as he lifted her into his arms wiping away the crocodile tears she had shed in wait for her bottle. He hummed to her as he offered it to her, a willing nudge to her bottom loop had her latching in an instant. A smile on his face anytime she accepted his help. That's all he ever wanted was for someone to look at him the way that his girls looked at him, with love and adoration. To feel wanted and needed not like he was just something to just toss to the side once you become bored. You had been the only person to make him feel truly wanted other than Wayne and he was now looking down at the labor of love created from that. His daughter had pushed the bottle out of her lips and he looked to see the amount taken but unhappy with the outcome he urged her to drink a bit more.

“Come on angel you need just a little more alright? Just a little, not a whole lot.” He hadn’t noticed that you had come to stand in the doorway watching him sway back and forth slowly as he tried to get your daughter to eat. Angela Marie was the name he had asked to call her as soon as he saw her and who were you to tell him no? A perfect name for his perfect angel he said the night you labored for hours that seemed to never end. But the moment she made her debut in this plane of existence your heart instantly knew this was his Angela Marie. 

You walk over to your husband sliding a hand across the small of his back as he hums in satisfaction. 

“Why are you up right now?" He turned to you yet his eyes never left his daughter's face.

“My space heater went to feed our child and it got kind of cold in there alone.” He chuckled a low laugh as he burped Angie on his shoulder. 

“Oh, but any other time I'm too warm for you.” 

“I said you were too warm like one time, are you ever gonna get over it? “ He shook his head as he laid Angie back into her bassinet slowly but surely drifting back to sleep as he rocked it slightly. A smirk on his face as he turned to you walking out of her room and into your own. 

“ What?” Knowing that smirk could be the death of you as your hormones were still all over the place and alone time was non-existent for the last six months. You had just started to get some of it back since Angie had started to sleep through the nights more often. 

“Close your eyes.” You sat in your shared bed and did as he had asked listening to him shuffle through a few drawers having lost whatever he was looking for. 

“You need some help?” you laugh.

“ No, just be a good girl and keep those eyes closed for me alright?” Your stomach did a somersault hearing the words but you kept your eyes closed until he asked you to hold out your hand.

 “Okay, you can open them now.” A small box sat in your hand as he got into his side of the bed, smiling up at you.

 “Go ahead and open it.” 

You take and flip the lid and there in the ring are three stones one is Citrine on the other side there is a Ruby and between both sits a beautiful Opal. A Birthstone for you, one for Eddie, and one for your angel.

”Happy Mother's Day baby.” You lean over and kiss Eddie as if he is a man going to war. You leave him breathless as you take the ring out of the box and place it on the ring finger of your right hand letting it mirror your wedding set. Eddie places a hand upon your cheek and you lean into it finding comfort in the warmth of his skin. He kisses you with a desperate need to show you just how much he loves you but you already know that he shows you in little ways every day. He will find you no matter how long he’s been gone if he leaves the house the second he’s back in it he kisses you the same as when he goes to leave a promise of I’ll be right back. He leaves you little notes on the mirror in the mornings, so when you take a shower the steam reveals his I love yous. Any gas station he goes into he will come back out with a kit-kat just because he knows the way you like the taste of the chocolate once it melts a little after holding it. He shows you in the way he feeds your daughter just to give you those precious extra minutes of sleep. He shows you all of these things and you show him now in this moment that you appreciate them all. He treated you as if you were the mother of his children long before you were one. Something you learned that Wayne has taught him. Your girl is your everything, if you treat her with love and respect she will give it to you tenfold.

 The love you had for Eddie, you needed him to feel that too. Slow thrusts and small whimpers that escape your mouth tell him all he needs to know. Groans in your ear from him trying to keep his love from spilling over send shivers down your spine tightening the hold around him. “God you're just so good to me huh? Letting me fill you and pump you full of me. You want another little one, don't you baby?” The words send you into orbit as you gush around him, pulling him deeper and deeper in your hold as you tighten his stills only to thrust sharply a few more times punctuating each thrust with his words. “Let. Me. Give. You. Another. One.” and with that last thrust he paints your walls thick, something he hadn’t done in three months. Yes, you had gotten him off but for the first time in three months, he was right back inside you and your walls were home to him. Kept his darkest and dirtiest secrets confined, the secret of want and warmth he had spent years searching for. A prayer he thought God answered only for abandoning his other. 

Sleep found you both quickly wrapped in each other until the clock began to wail beside Eddie. A slap to the snooze button and you were already stirring but he tightened his hold on you feeling that small warm nuzzle that lasted for a few moments before the heat became too much and he would let you pull away.

Walking with Eddie towards the truck in the parking lot meeting Wayne for lunch at a small cafe across town. The red sundress you were wearing complemented the small black sabbath onesie Eddie had dressed angela marie in. A squeeze of your hand that was in eddies let you know he loved you, a signal he used when there were too many people around or didn't want to say it aloud. You would always reply with two back an answer of I love you too. You take Angela in your arms as he goes to hug Wayne and you pass her back so you can do the same. A Small Happy Mother's Day from Wayne has you reeling out thank yous, not only for you but to thank him for raising someone as amazing as Eddie. A phenomenal husband and father. Only then does Wayne take Angela Marie Fully into his hold cooing to her in his gruff baby voice of how she is the most beautiful little angel to grace this planet. A quick lunch and a cup of coffee end with Wayne picking up a Red Velvet Cake and a second box he holds until he reaches the truck with you all in tow. As he opens the door he slides the cake onto the passenger's side and hands one of the boxes to Eddie along with a second set of flowers he had picked up from the store, Lilies were your favorite something Wayne smiled at when Eddie told him remembering a time when Eddie had given him his own set of lilies. The box held a yellow cake with buttercream frosting, a favorite of yours since Eddie first brought you to Tully’s on one of your first dates. He had preferred red velvet until that day. Eddie turned to Wayne but what he said surprised him more than anything.

 “I’m gonna come with you to see Mom. I think I want Angel to meet her gammie.”  

A silent trip to the cemetery as your car followed Wayne's truck through the dirt path that led to the fence he once couldn't bear to see. Walking over carefully he sat at the edge where his mother lay with you beside him and Angie in his lap. You had your hand in his as you squeezed once and he returns it with two. He takes a deep breath as he lets Wayne set the cake and flowers next to the stone engraved with her name and a message of Be the best You. A phrase that almost takes his breath as he can hear the words ring true in his ears, a quote his mother had told him every day. “All you can do is be the best, you Eddie.” A small hand grips his finger as if giving him the signal you had made for each other out of instinct. 

“Angel Marie this here is your Grandmother Angela Evelyn Munson and she was the love of your papa's life.” A tremble in his tone was more cathartic than sad. He had only been here a few times since that day with Wayne. The first time was when he was drunk after graduation and he just wanted to let out some anger and maybe get some answers but he never got them, the next time was to tell his mom he met someone new, someone, who gave him this strange feeling like any time she looked at him his stomach would fall. Kind of like he was on one of the rides that would come through town when they held a small county fair, and the third was the day he found out you were pregnant, he just wanted to know if his mom would have been proud of the man he had become and Wayne assured him she would, but it wasn't the same and he knew that. 

This led to today the first time Angela Marie would meet Angela Evelyn and he could have sworn she was right in front of him, he couldn't see her but if he could just reach out and touch her that would be enough he couldn't, no because when he looked down and that tiny hand that had wrapped itself around his finger he knew he was wrapped around hers too.

[hannahyesss]

Last year was a remarkable one for me. I started a new career that I love and find challenging and rewarding. I fell in love with exercise and gave up feeling guilty about eating, and now I’m getting into the best shape of my life. I turned thirty. I jumped back into writing fanfiction and drawing fan art. I made new friends (and gave up on some friendships). And I’m poor as hell because I spent a month in Europe during the summer, and my school district hates teachers! But honestly, I’m so happy to be here. We’re already a week into the new year, and I can really sense that this is going to be a tough one, yet I feel ready to take it on.

Instead of a New Year’s Resolution, each year, I pick a word or theme. Every time I have a choice, I ask myself: which action would align with my overall values for the year? My theme last year was “Health.” Mental, physical, emotional, etc. I’d ask myself “Is this healthy for me?” Should I take a solo trip to Portugal? Should I eat pastries for breakfast? Should I go for a run? (The answer to all of these was yes.)

Here is how I embodied “Health” in 2023.

I had ADHD for nearly thirty years and didn’t know it. In that time, I graduated from high school and college and earned my graduate degree. When I reflect on how I achieved these things without the slightest idea I had a combination type ADHD, there are two things that stand out to me.

First, for most of my life, my anxiety has been debilitating and has kept me on track in a very rigid, uncomfortable way. Fearing that I would miss a deadline, my brain used to cycle through checks almost compulsively—which assignment is due? Did I pay my doctor’s bill? Do I have enough money in the bank? I was always at least twenty minutes early to everything because I was terrified of being late. I did my homework in class during work time because I didn’t want to bring it home and forget. (I was also very lucky that I took naturally to traditional education—I had good teachers in high school, but the curriculum was also very easy for me.)

Anxiety is an excellent mask for ADHD—but the cost is constant exhaustion.

Second, I have always gravitated towards jobs that keep me on my feet and running around solving problems. I managed a retail boutique for about five years which suited my ADHD very, very well. I was never involved with a task for more than fifteen minutes at a time. If I’m creating a book order and a customer walks in, I’ve got to stop my current task for a short amount of time and come back to it. I could always switch my brain very easily from one task to the next. Very stimulating! I’m a teacher now, and it’s basically the same thing.

By 2019, however, my anxiety had become so unmanageable that I couldn’t look at my bank account, I couldn’t keep my apartment clean, and I couldn’t even begin to think about doing laundry. I began working with my therapist specifically on getting my anxiety under control. It was really hard work! It involved identifying triggers and sitting with exceptionally uncomfortable feelings without judgment of myself. The story of getting a firm handle on anxiety is fairly long, so I’ll skip over several years of work to say that my anxiety is manageable now.

It took years, but my constant state of high energy anxiety has calmed significantly. While this is good, I had no idea what it was masking. ADHD symptoms began to take over my life. I cried all the time because I kept losing my phone or I set my keys down somewhere stupid or I was starting to be late to everything. Laundry was even more of a herculean task and keeping my apartment clean was a constant battle. Tackling anxiety with my therapist helped me see that untidiness is not a moral issue, but damn! I was still frustrated that I tripped over stuff or that my clothes were never clean! My therapist started squinting at me as these problems cropped up, and eventually, they were like, “These are fairly classic ADHD symptoms.”

I really, really resisted this diagnosis. I had been fine fine fine for my whole life. I have a Master’s degree! I’m a teacher! If it’s hard for me to do laundry, it’s just because I don’t like doing laundry. If it’s hard for me to brush my teeth twice a day, it just means I’m a person with poor hygiene. And the thing is, I was completely capable of doing these things. I did them all the time! It’s just that I felt so tired, and it was just a matter of forcing myself to get it done. After all, does anyone really like doing chores?

“But I don’t think you understand how much harder you’re working to do them,” my therapist argued.

“It’s hard for everyone,” I remember saying.

“Right, but for the ADHD brain, you have to use a lot more energy to get started and to get finished the things you don’t want to do.”

All right, fine. That might be true.

So I started to accept that I miiiiiight have ADHD. My mom was shocked when I told her and insisted she didn’t remember me bouncing around or having trouble keeping up with assignments in school. (Except that wasn’t…actually true. I had a gazillion late assignments in elementary school but then I switched from private school to public in sixth grade, and school became much easier. I could keep up because I was usually finished before other kids.)

But diagnosis seemed impossible. I didn’t want to go through the whole debacle of setting up a doctor’s appointment, calling insurance, finding someone to assess me, yada yada yada. (Side note: the cruelest thing to do to a person with undiagnosed ADHD is to make them jump through a lot of administrative hoops to get to their diagnosis. Which is exactly what you have to do.)

At the same time, my sister was going through her own journey of getting an ADHD diagnosis. However, when she began treatment for ADHD, I wasn’t particularly surprised because her behaviors looked much more like classic symptoms to me. She went on meds as soon as she could and told me that it just felt like she wasn’t so tired anymore. That she could just… do things. And like, yeah, speed can do that for a person. But honestly, I was thinking I could use some controlled substances to boost my brain energy if they’d give them to me.

By the time I was able to get in with a psychologist, I was already most of the way through my first year as a teacher. I couldn’t sit through curriculum planning meetings without getting lost in the conversation, I couldn’t keep my mind focused during my own lesson planning, and I couldn’t fucking grade papers for more than ten minutes at a time. Damn, though, I was really good at pretending I was a well-functioning adult. I can lie my ass off, and I am a fairly good actor, so I was terrified the psychologist was going to tell me that it wasn’t ADHD—I’m just lazy and dumb and I need to try harder.

Shockingly, this is not what he told me. He said I have combined type ADHD which means hyperactive and inattentive. Hilariously, he said since Covid started, he has seen a huge influx of teachers getting diagnosed. It’s a job that attracts ADHD types because you’re never doing the same thing for long and it’s just constant stimulation. (I was chatting with a fellow teacher friend about it who also has ADHD—two other teacher friends overheard our conversation, grimaced at each other, and muttered that they might need to make appointments with their doctors too…)

Pretty soon I started meds, and it was life-changing. I realized that I was using food for stimulation for most of my life which was why it was so fucking hard to keep a healthy weight. I can now run longer distances because I’m not sabotaging myself by constantly remembering how bored I am or how much I want to stop. Grading papers still sucks but I can now grade for a few hours at a time, take well-planned breaks, and then jump back into it. Although not officially designated a symptom of ADHD, my Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria is much more manageable. I’m not constantly critiquing myself in the mirror anymore.

It’s truly been fascinating to see these changes in the last six months.

That’s not to say I’m cured or things are super great all the time. Laundry is still a struggle and I spent most of my weekend just lounging around the apartment (and called it rest). Last week, I increased my Adderall dosage to 15mg because what worked in the summer when I’m off work is NOT enough during the school year. In any case, I’ve been reflecting on how my diagnosis has helped me to see areas of growth in my life. Instead of “oh, I’m just an impulsive shopper,” it’s more like, “Oh, you are very susceptible to targeted ads. Let’s be cognizant of that and create a check system that helps you decide if you really need to buy that thing.”

I’ve learned that ADHD is NOT an excuse. I do NOT get to opt out hard things because of neurodivergence (I mean, sometimes yeah, I do, but not all the time, lol). Instead, it’s been a fun challenge to assess what I feel like I can’t do and figure out a way to trick my brain or work with my cute little weirdo brain to get shit done. I love puzzles! And damn if my brain isn’t one huge puzzle.

So here’s my advice: there is no such thing as laziness. If your problem is that you think you’re lazy, but since laziness doesn’t exist, it has to be something else. It could be ADHD—it could also be that you expect someone else to do the thing for you or that you’re depressed or that doing that thing you’re ignoring just isn’t something you care about.

Keep reflecting and remembering that you are not static.

Book recommendation: How to Keep House While Drowning by KC Davis

[sacrifical-lamb-core]

@auroraofthesun1

Diary of a teenage Christian girl

Monday 1st August 2024

Writing late at night so this makes no sense. I’m under the covers in Esther’s bunk bed and she’s drawing me. She draws me much prettier than I am and she says I write her much prettier than she used to. I am truly blessed by the lord for such a good friend.

So here’s what happened when we arrived

Apparently we have a room switch up, after we’d unpacked which was annoying but expected. Camp is apparently always sorta unorganised like that! I’m still with Esther, Praise the Lord on high, but with an entirely different group.

In the group there’s 4 other girls, and my sister isnt here. I don’t really mind though. It’s not that we don’t get along, but me and Darlene aren’t very buddy buddy. We chat but run in different circles, it’s fine. I have 8 siblings, I don’t have to be super close with all of them.

The four girls are : Rachel, Mary, Ruth (not the other Ruth, we have a lot of Ruth’s in our church) and Sarah.

It’s kind of encouraged to talk bad about your roommates. Me and Esther do it a lot, and I know they do it too. It seems ingrained into church culture. I see mom do it, I see the ladies at church do it. Everyone’s a judge.

Like how Mary’s a glutton who probably loves food more than the Lord and Rachel’s a slut who admitted to wearing a certain outfit for male attention and Ruth has a necklace with a crystal on it which she swears is fake but I don’t believe it.

Me and Esther are sinners too, everyone is. I think I am the worst and ye the best, I think that I am so much better but the scum of the earth, I am the best Christian in this room and yet the most unworthy in the eyes of the Lord. Ive done a lot for christ, and so has Esther. Esther fasts. She fasts most of her time, and barely eats. I admire her dedication. I fast a lot too, and supliment never eating with praying. Praying so much. I scream to the Lord. Always

If I’m not thinking about God then what am I thinking of? Picture God and Jesus standing on heaven looking at me and judging me. They see everything and every thought. They KNOW!

But other than that I chatted with my roommates and other than the stuff I mentioned they all seemed great. We went to the sermon, which was powerful.

We spent the first hour thirty minutes singing worship songs and praise. I might have permanent hearing problems sorry Lord that last comment was ungrateful for even if the Lord brings sorrow I will rejoice and rejoice in my suffering suffering suffering. I am not suffering. I have the Lord.

I cried during the sermon, when they talked about how Jesus died for me. The guilt could have crushed me and I felt so happy. Happy that I was feeling the right emotions, guilt. Esther was crying too, and I knew she wouldn’t eat tomorrow. Good for her. I should fast too. I would, praying and fasting and praying and begging to be forgiven. Forgiven for what? The crime of existing.

A couple kids collapsed, sobbing, touched by the spirit. It didn’t happen to me. I felt awful, why didn’t I happen to me. It happened to Rachel and she cried about her parents divorce tainting her. At least she’s self aware. I’ll fall to the ground next time. We’re here for threee weeks.

The sermon was on sacrifice. I remember hearing a similar one when I was 7, the day I knew I would gladly die a martyr. I had my martyrship perfectly planned since I was 7, and with a bit of tweaking I’d made a perfect death.

It would be when I was still young, because it would be more inspiring that way. Id be in a situation of oppression. A shooter would come in to my class room, a big scary atheist who hated Christian’s and wanted us dead. And I wouldn’t hide, and would sing Amazing Grace. I would sing amazing grace while he shot me and my final words would be praising the Lord. I would be loved and adored even in death. I would certainly go to heaven. That was my dream. My greatest wish is to die.

Esther showed me her drawing. She’s a great artist, and drew me adorable . She says I am adorable.

She’s adorable too. I’m gonna sleep now.

Forever the Lords

Grace

[lucreziaq2001]

•TV show: "Criminal minds".

•Content warnings: Mentions of a baby who died in his mother's womb around 37 weeks into the pregnancy, his mom going through the whole pregnancy without a partner or spouse by her side (by choice), her having to give birth to her son after having found out he had passed away, her having to leave him at the hospital and go back home, mentions of a baby's funeral, her feelings after the loss of her baby (grief, wanting to isolate from her friends and many others), her accepting to meet her friend's newborn baby, but entering into a delusion in which that child is her son, her baby watching over her from Heaven and praying she'll be okay one day and her finally letting out all her feelings with one of her two closest friends helping her.

•This One Shot is an AU in which JJ and Will's second baby didn't die and was born alive in mid 2011. I named her Margaret because Maggie, the name JJ said she would have given her in the show, is not a full name, it's more of a nickname and it is her nickname here too. Emily also didn't go through the "thing" with Ian Doyle and JJ didn't have to leave her team in this story.

•I know JJ and Will weren't married yet in 2011, but to make things easier for myself, I chose to refer to him as her husband, since that's what many people do in my country with live-in partners, mostly if they have kids together. I hope this doesn't bother you.

•I don't fully know how maternity leave works in the USA, especially for an FBI agent, so I made those details up. If you know more about this, feel free to correct me, though.

•I don't know if Emily was religious in "Criminal minds", but even not religious people say that their dead loved ones are in Heaven, so I used that word around the end of the story.

•Tags: @lex13cm, @golden1u5t, @arabellavernierwrites (who helped me write this a pretty long time ago), @asolitaryrose3, @oneshotnewbie, @whotfskai, @marril96, @babiebom.

Until they'd meet again

On July 5, 2011, her first day back at work after her five-weeks-long leave, when Emily Prentiss walked into the bullpen, the first thing she would have liked to do was scream as loud as she could.

Why?

Well, because not really knowing what to say to her, all her co-workers and friends just asked "Are you alright?".

What Emily would have wanted to say was "No, I'm not! Who the hell would be alright just one month after their baby's death?!?", but to avoid worrying her friends and most of all, knowing they wouldn't have been able to understand what she was going through, what she ended up telling them was just "Yes, I'm okay".

She knew they didn't believe her, also because she wasn't able to look them in the eye while saying that.

Most of them were FBI profilers, after all.

Analyzing human behavior was their job.

None of them pressured her to open up, though, and Emily was partly happy, partly annoyed by that.

Less than half an hour after she had arrived at the office, she was already convinced that the worst part of her day was going to be having to stay at work, around people who didn't know how to talk to her, but shot pity-filled looks at her every few minutes, while all she actually wanted to do was go back home, the only place were she would have been alone, lay in bed and just miss her baby boy.

Her beloved Isaac, whom she had gotten pregnant with thanks to a sperm donor, had died in her womb in late May of that year.

His mother had found out about that on May 28, exactly thirty-eight weeks into her -at least until then- healthy pregnancy.

Hearing her doctor say "I'm so sorry. There is no heartbeat" had been more devastating than anything she had ever been through to Emily, and finding out she still had to deliver her son was even harder.

After two days spent locked up in her apartment, mostly crying and staring mindlessly at the TV, in the late afternoon of May 30, Emily had gone to the hospital to give birth to her much loved and wanted little boy.

The next morning, at 10:40 am, Isaac William Prentiss had come into the world, lifeless, but still perfect in his mother's eyes.

For the next two days, Emily held him every second she could, trying to memorize every single one of his features, talking and singing to him and taking more pictures than she could have counted.

Then, the time had come to say goodbye, and leaving Isaac to the nurses while she went back home was one more heartbreak for her to deal with.

For almost five whole weeks, she stayed cooped up in her house, only going out on the day of Isaac's funeral and one evening because her friend Penelope had basically forced her to go out with her.

That night, Emily had just wanted to go home as soon as possible, but on her first day back at work, in spite of her still very present heartbreak, she craved nothing more than to have normalcy and a healthy routine again.

That was why, although it had only been a little over a month since her son had passed and she would have had the right to three more weeks of paid leave, she had insisted on returning to the bureau.

There, however, everyone was tip-toeing around her, going the extra mile to make sure everything within their job maintained some sense of balance.

The team was trying their hardest to provide stability to the grieving mother Emily now was.

The next day, however, their friend and co-worker JJ, who had given birth to her daughter Margaret just three weeks prior, had decided to come see them.

She hadn't brought the baby with her, but she knew she was going to have to bring her up at some point.

Everyone else on the team had already been to her house to meet little Margaret for the first time, and JJ was now nauseous at the idea of having to find a way to invite Emily's freshly broken heart.

"Emily" she said, tapping softly on the door to her friend's office "Can I talk to you real quick before I go back home?".

Hardly looking up from her papers, Emily nodded and just responded with "Of course".

JJ timidly entered the room, still unsure of how to say what she wanted to tell the older woman.

"I thought now would be a good time to talk to you about this. As you know, I just had a baby. If you refuse, I understand. I want you to do what's best for you now. Don’t feel pressured or think that you somehow have to spare my feelings in any way-" she started to explain, but Emily soon interrupted her.

"JJ" she told her "You can ask the question".

JJ swallowed intensely.

"Would you like to meet my daughter?" she then asked.

Even though she had given her friend permission to ask her that, when she heard those words, Emily felt like she had just been punched in the stomach.

She tried to hide the fact that that question had knocked the wind out of her, but even a brief mention of a baby was enough to send her back into the pit of despair she was actively trying to claw her way out of.

"I can’t wait" she still forced herself to say, giving JJ a half-fake smile.

She was genuinely happy for her, but also fighting a losing battle inside.

The idea of her friend's new baby stormed up inside Emily.

She remembered what it felt like to hold her little one for the first time, his soft skin, his tiny fingers and toes and his impossibly long eyelashes.

He was perfect, but no screams had come from him.

Unlike all the other babies there that day, he hadn't been born alive.

So much of Emily was happy that JJ was getting to experience becoming the mother of an alive baby for the second time.

One of the most precious things life could offer was in the palms of her friend's hands.

But still, heartache consumed her.

She was devastated that there was still so much life and beauty in the world, when she had just had to experience a death so earth-shattering.

The idea of meeting JJ's baby made Emily's heart race, but still, she agreed to do it, and a few hours later, there she was, sitting on JJ's couch, an evening full of homecooked meals and genuine conversation leading her up to that point.

"Here she is, Auntie Emily" JJ told her with a smile on her face, placing her baby girl into Emily's protective arms.

The older woman's first reaction to that was a chuckle of disbelief she just couldn't hold in.

Her mind twisted at the memory of her own sweet baby, the one that she had been grieving so violently over.

She wasn’t sure what it was, motherly hormones or just pure reality-distorting heartbreak, but she felt like she was holding her late son.

That thought poisoned her mind, the maternal instinct pumping through her veins, her heart intertwining with the one of the baby in her arms.

"She’s perfect" Emily whispered, overcome with emotion.

"She is, isn’t she?" JJ replied with a smile on her face, taking a seat in a chair across the room, keeping an affectionate eye on the two of them.

"You're just the sweetest thing, aren’t you?" Emily then cooed, completely enamored with the infant in her arms.

She felt like she was getting sucked deeper into the sickening hole of motherly grief.

She didn’t feel real anymore and to her, the baby she was holding wasn't JJ's daughter.

It was her son.

Her innocent child she should have protected from all things evil in the world.

Now she had a second chance, and anyone and anything that would have even tried to harm that baby would have died at her hands before being able to come near the child.

"You just need someone to keep your little heart safe, sweet boy" she cooed as she stroked the baby's big, round cheeks with love "You need your mommy to keep you safe".

By that point, JJ had become weary of her friend's behavior, since she had witnessed a shift behind her grieving eyes.

"Will, how about you go upstairs to see if Henry is sleeping?" she decided to tell her husband, mostly wishing to salvage the image of her co-worker, not wanting anyone else to have to witness what she pretty much knew was coming.

"I can protect you, my son" Emily then promised, still looking at the baby with so much love in her eyes "As your mommy, I swear I won’t let anything ever hurt you".

"I think it’s time she goes back to bed, Honey" JJ tried to tell her, wanting to get her baby back into the hands of someone with a more present mind.

"I can’t" Emily replied, her eyes filling up with tears "I can’t have my baby taken from me again".

"Don’t you want us to have our baby back?" Will, who had come back downstairs by that time attempted to ask her.

As a response, however, Emily shook her head.

"No, he is mine!" she then exclaimed "I have to protect my baby!".

"Come on, she needs some rest" JJ told her, gently rubbing her back.

Suddenly, Emily’s brain felt like it could have exploded.

It was so full of heartbreak, confusion and despair.

The thoughts that had been racing through her mind for weeks pounded on the walls of her skull, desperate for an escape from the pain that brewed in her mind.

She just wanted something she could hold on to, something that she could have a second chance at, something that would stay alive.

"No, I can’t" Emily told her, tears streaming down her face by that time.

All the sternness in her voice had disappeared and there was nothing in her tone except pure defeat.

That was when JJ knew she wasn’t just talking about the baby.

She was talking about everything she had experienced since the day she had found out Isaac had passed away.

Everything that had swept her off her feet in the tornado of losing a child.

She couldn’t do it any more.

She couldn’t live with that missing piece in her life.

She couldn’t plaster on a smile and show up to work like she hadn't just lost the person she loved the most.

JJ was careful, removing her baby from Emily’s arms and quickly giving her to her husband, who took her upstairs to give the two women a moment alone.

"I can't do this" Emily sobbed, her figure collapsing entirely against her friend.

Her body heaved violently as everything that had been building up was let go.

The excruciating experience of losing her baby boy had broken her.

Maybe one day there would have been a way out of all the pain she was experiencing, but at that moment, everything around her seemed dark and the only good things were JJ's arms around her and the fact that in a way, she still had her baby boy in her life.

He was watching her from Heaven, loving on his mommy and praying for her to be able to find peace and the strenght to wait until they were meant to meet again.

[misha-moose-dean-burger-lover]

top 5 sam and cas bestie moments

i love u for this ask. and like, in gen :D neeeways:

the peanut butter moment in s9. cas is sitting in the library, complaining about molecules in his PB&J, as one does. sam comes in, sits on the table, swipes some peanut butter off cas's sandwich. they discuss how eating constantly as a human is annoying. "i miss you pb&j" happens. iconic iconic iconic.

the entirety of 14x15 peace of mind. the "i read them sometimes after you've fallen asleep" and the "hair. he has beautiful hair." and the (not exactly sam but still counts) "using language such as h-e-double hockey sticks, you should have your mouth washed out with soap!" and of course the milkshakes, and the fight at the end where cas literally flips sam to the ground and the letters. fellas, do you ever read aloud someone else's secret explicit love letter to your bestie — yes, actually.

that entire sam and cas v/s metatron scene which ends with sam shooting metatron in the leg. literally. if you think they're sassy on their own (pun intended) you should see them roasting the former scribe of god together. bestie goals <3

ok this isn't a particular moment in the show but all the times sam's shown helping cas with technology are SO good. like the time he writes cas instructions on how to use the internet and starts with 'TURN ON THE COMPUTER'. or the time in s8 when cas is healing and basically hogs sam's netflix (and bed) to watch orange is the new black. who do you think was most often the recipient of cas's technology related rants, and also the most patient and relentless debater of its merits. and who do you think sam recced his favorite shows to too, since that wasn't exactly his relationship with dean atm, but there's no reason it couldn't be something he and cas regularly discussed and updated each other about. i mean. your honor, they are literally besties.

when sam hugs cas for the first time in s9 and cas is just happy being held tbh until sam says "now's the part where you hug back", a classic, and cas stiffly puts his arms around sam too and they sway a little in a classic hug basically and god my heart is full just thinking of that scene again :'))))))

[agoodfictitle-shadowban]

The Price You Pay - Part 2

Wanda Maximoff x f!reader

[TPYP Masterlist]

Word Count: 2.4k

Summary: Life as a college student isn’t always easy, so when the opportunity to make some money by pretending to date your best friend’s sister arise, you decide to take it.

Tags: fake dating, paid dating, jealousy, possessiveness, Pietro’s bestie, darkish!wanda, no Avengers, bad life decisions, college!au, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, divorced!parents, Vision is kind of a dick, other mcu characters apparition, no proofreading (lemme know if im missing something)

Warnings: Bad language, alcohol consumption, some violence, smuttyfruity (so, 18+, minors dni, dom!Wanda, bratty!reader, hair pulling, will add warnings when we get to it)

A/n: i didn't expect the first part to do so well, but im very happy it did! Thank yall so much for the support you showed, it really helped me keep writing cause i actually scraped that chamter before rewriting it completely.

Also it seems like the no power gang won, so, there won't be powers in this fic

Tag List: @red1culous @sayah13 @princess-kennys-rats

For a hot minute, you considered telling Pietro about what happened with his sister, but then you thought better of it. You had an inkling that Wanda would strangle you if you did, and he would also likely be unhappy that you actually went with it, so for now, it was easier to keep it hidden. It could be a funny story for later, when things were over and you were both retired. At this point he should be unable to kill you. Probably.

In the meantime, you needed to get ready for the party. At least it was a casual event, so you could go in tight jeans, a simple shirt, and your trusty leather jacket. You were putting your boots on when you heard the doorbell ringing. You opened the door to find Wanda in front of you, her usual good looking self, with a red dress and long coat, her eyes adorned with black makeup that made the green pop all the more. Her newly red hair cascaded around her face and you found yourself staring maybe just a little bit too much. She was truly beautiful, and your old crush made itself known in the way your skin hummed with the desire to grab her by the waist to kiss her. You stomped the need mentally.

"Are you ready?" She asked with an annoyed voice, cracking up an eyebrow. That brought you back to reality and you nodded.

"Yeah. How are we going?"

You put your hands in your pocket, making sure you had your keys before you closed the door behind you. She pointed to the uber waiting for you on the curb.

"Okay, cool." You looked at the time. "It's thirty past eight, so, I'll consider it starting time."

She looked at you. "We're not at the party yet."

"Do you want me to go home?"

She cocked her head and approached you, her fingertips tracing your shirt's collar. "You're lucky you're so pretty," she said, before she took your hand and dragged you to the car.

You ignored the way her words made you feel, putting it on the account of your old crush on her, following her to the car. She opened the door and made a small hand gesture for you to get in. You were about to protest, but the way she looked at you made you swallow thickly and simply enter the car.

Most of the time was spent in silence, with you looking outside of the window at the leaves-chipped sun. When you reached the house your confidence from the day before had slightly eroded. Would you really be able to fool Wanda's friends as her girlfriend? You knew a lot about her through observation and from her brother, but chances were her friends knew her better. It took her opening your car door to actually remember you had to come out of the car, and when you did you took a deep breath.

She smirked slightly and grabbed your hand, pulling you to follow her inside. Even from the street you could hear the music, so when the door opened it only got worse. People were already partying and you recognized a few of them from your old high school days and some from college who lived in the area. You followed Wanda inside and she told you to wait for her while she got you some drinks. You drifted away a bit when someone called your name and you recognized Carol Danvers. You used to be in the same tennis team in middle school, until you switched to the swim team at the insistence of your dad who knew how much you liked to be in water. And he was right, you were much happier there than you ever were playing tennis.

"Hey Carol, it's been a while." She gave you a quick embrace and looked over you.

"Too long if you ask me. I wasn't expecting you to be at one of Vision's parties."

You shrugged and pointed at Wanda who was getting a drink for you. "Wands insisted that I come," you said matter of factly and the blonde looked surprised at that, but since she wasn't big on gossip, she simply nodded.

"Well, I'm glad you're here, I remember you being good at beer pong. Maybe I'll finally have a real challenge," she sent you a look, and you grinned.

"Oh, you're so on, Danvers."

"What are we on for?" A blond man inserted himself in the conversation and you recognized Vision Stark.

"Oh, Y/n and I are gonna play beer pong," Carol answered.

"Y/n? He asked with his posh accent and extended his hand for you to take, which you did. "I don't think I ever met you."

"We haven't. Who are you?" Those kinds of guys always went crazy when people didn't recognize them, and he quickly proved he wasn't an exception.

"Vision Stark. Funny you didn't know, considering you're at my party."

That's when Wanda came back, handing you a red cup. You took it and she laced your fingers together, imposing a clear lead to you, so you leaned against her like the dotting girlfriend you were supposed to be. "I brought her here, Vis," she said with a large hypocritical smile towards her ex-boyfriend. "I figured you wouldn't mind. You're so tolerant, in so many aspects of your life. A party guest shouldn't be a problem."

You pinched your lips and drank some of your alcohol. Punch. Not bad, too. Way better with the whole tension taking over the conversation too. You decided it might be a good occasion to fuck with the guy who clearly didn't expect Wanda to be here even if he was the one who invited her.

"Well, that's a pretty good party, still, not as good as the one we were having back home," you laughed, your lips finding Wanda's cheek with a colluding spark in your eyes. "I'm almost sad we came."

Carol drank her cup, looking everywhere but at you two in order to hide a smile at the way Vision just nervously moved on his feet.

"Oh, detka, don't worry, we won't stay long."

"Well. I think I'm seeing Barton and Bishop, I'm going to tell them hi," he said very awkwardly, interrupting the both of you who were just devouring each other with your eyes. You almost ignored him, Wanda even biting her bottom lip at the way you would bat your eyelashes at her.

"See you soon, Vutton," you said to the man making his exit, throwing a name haphazardly in the mix. As soon as he was away, you stopped your masquerade, or at least exaggerating as much as you did, and you turned back to Carol who was trying really hard to hide her laugh, and failing.

"Okay, I haven't seen this guy go this pale ever, I thought he was gonna turn transparent," she finally commented and you laughed, Wanda a small proud smile on her lips. This was exactly what she wanted. She leaned her lips closer to your ears so only you would hear what she had to tell you.

"Good job, this will definitely get you a reward."

This got you blushing, and you decided it didn't warrant an answer, simply wanting to not think of the way it ignited a fire in your lower abdomen.

"Huh, hm, anyway, we were talking beer pong?" You told Carol and she caught on your subject change.

"Oh, yeah, come on," she guided you through the house. She clearly came too often to those parties.

You stopped at the table and took off your jacket, throwing it at the back of a chair. Wanda went to sit on a windowsill, but not before she kissed your cheek when she noticed a specific set of eyes on you.

"For luck," she told you.

"If I get luck for all the cheek kisses I got, maybe I should ask for more," you teased, and she narrowed her eyes, considering it.

"If you win." She booped your nose and scrunched up her nose adorably. "Maybe I'll have more for you."

This was now the second time she alluded to more, and you had to remind you it was just her acting like she would with her girlfriend, nothing serious. Nothing real. So you went on to play.

Clint and Kate tried to join at some point but were barred from participating since they were way too good at the game, and you ended up going against Carol, Yelena, and finally Thor before you decided to stop playing. By then you were seriously starting to feel the buzz of the booze and decided to join Wanda - you still were clear enough to remember your role tonight - who was talking with some people she knew, still sitting on the windowsill. You approached her, a bit wobbly, and decided the best place to be was in between her legs, bringing your arm around her neck to get her attention when you took your place.

"I won lots," you told her, and she cocked a playful eyebrow.

"You also lost lots, malyshka." You hummed at that.

"So no kisses?" You pouted slightly and put your other arm around her to get her full attention. At this point, it might not have been acting anymore. You truly wanted those kisses. You wanted a lot more kisses, actually, but you would play nice, chanting in your head that this was all fake. Or most of it, on your part.

She rolled her eyes and gave up, giving you a few on the cheek. You sighed contentedly and simply melted against her after that, vaguely listening to the conversation she was having. Something about your classes. You let your eyes travel around, only to find the jealous eyes of her ex on the both of you. You decided to playfully let your hand scrape along Wanda's legs that were holding you against her, a victorious smile on your lips. You felt her react in your back, her breath deepening. Your fingertips chased around her thigh until it came closer to the inside of it, and that's when she stopped your hand, redirecting it to her knee. You let the back of your head fall on her shoulder so your lips would be close to her ear.

"Sorry, he was watching," you said. You hoped you didn't make her uncomfortable. She answered with a nod and a kiss on your neck that made your core tremble.

"It's okay." The truth was that the way you would touch her made her feel much more than she expected, to the point where she wanted to simply leave the party with you, forgetting her revenge. But she couldn't, not yet.

You ended up drifting away from her again at some point when Natasha and Steve respectively noticed you and came to kidnap you to go to the pool for whatever game they had in mind. Of course it ended up including alcohol, and if you had started to sober up, it didn't last long. You tapped out when you felt yourself reach your limits and came out the water, looking around to wherever you left your clothes. Once you found them, you looked for Wanda. Failing to locate her, you started wandering upstairs where you finally found her. With Vision.

Something in you told you to make your presence known, but another part told you to listen, so you stopped at the edge of the hallway.

"Listen, I'm sorry I cheated on you, can't you give me another chance?" That was Jasion. No, Vision, your blurry brain reminded you.

"After not only what you did but also said? Take a guess." Wanda was clearly pissed at him, which was fair. He did cheat on her.

Sounded like there was something more going on.

"Listen, it's not my fault."

"So it's not your fault you called me a freak?"

"It's not–" he interrupted himself when he noticed his voice growing angry. "You were too much for me, or so I thought. But I miss you. Please."

"Go fuck yourself," she spat out angrily before she came out of the room, only to run into you. You blinked dumbly, and the cold anger in her eyes zeroed in on you. "What did you hear?"

Her question sounded more like an order as she came closer to you. You swallowed hard and took a step back, hitting the wall. "Huuuuuh, what if I say nothing?"

"It depends, are you lying?" There was a threatening edge in her voice, and in the way she leaned closer, her eyes never wavering. The intensity of her pulled you in, and you found yourself having a hard time breathing and thinking straight, and not just because of the alcohol.

"No," you lied, and you could see she knew better. The palm of her hand found your cheek and very slowly she caressed it.

"I don't like liars." Her hand grabbed at your hair, not putting any pressure to move your head in any direction.

"I won't tell anyone."

"That's what I wanted to hear." She let go of your hair, and once again her hand was tender on your skin. "Come on, let's go home."

You nodded, incapable of looking elsewhere. She took your hand and brought you back downstairs, an uber waiting for you outside already.

The way back was as silent as when you came, helped by the fact you were trying not to doze off. You were very unsuccessful, and Wanda had to shake you when you arrived in front of your house. You mumbled something unintelligible and she helped you out of the car and to your doorstep, holding you by the waist.

"You're such a lightweight," she commented at some point and you wanted to protest, but you were too busy trying to open your door. In the end, she took your keys from you and opened, helping you to your room. You fell asleep the second you hit the bed, and she sighed at that.

Wanda sat next to your sleeping form and let her eyes admire you briefly. Her hand put back a few strands of your hair, and when she finally got up, she brought to your side a glass of water with a box of Advil for when you would wake up. She also took off your shoes so you would be comfortable. This done, she squatted next to the bed so her face leveled with yours, her fingers drawing your cheekbone.

"Oh, the things I'd do to you if you were mine…" she whispered. She took a few more seconds before she finally stood up and left you to your sleep. She'd see you tomorrow.

[jiminzfilter]

slow dancing in the night

→ Pairing. Taehyung x reader

→ Genre. established relationship, fluff, slice of life, model!taehyung, model!reader, taehyung missed you a lot, he is starving (his words not mine), gets a bit hot by the last 40 lines, mentions of oral (f) so I guess this counts as mature content, implied smut, making out (kinda), there is a bit of swearing

→ Summary. what could possibly be better than coming home after a long day of work to someone you love and missed a lot ?

→ Word count. 3.2k (!!!)

→ because I wrote this over a year ago when I still didn't know what I was doing with my writing, I had to go through a deep process of editing and re-writing before posting it. This might not be my best work but it's still a fic that I really really like :,)

→ song rec. slow dancing in the dark, Joji// still with you, Jungkook

Fridays have always been exhausting days for both you and your boyfriend, especially on runways weeks. As models, you were put under a lot of pressure.

Pressure to be perfect, to smile but never smile too much, to look good, to not fall on stage.

Falling has to be the most tragic thing that can happen to your carreer as a model, the hungry stares of thousands of photographers and reporters ready to share the latest news to the press.

Yeah, it was exhausting.

This week was no exception... or maybe it was since, this time, you were the only one working until late.

It’s four in the morning and you’re already on your way out - kind of running late, oBviOusLy - quietly wishing your boyfriend a good day.

He is not working today.

That lucky bastard.

He gets to enjoy his free day in bed, lazing around, while you work your ass off all day. He mumbles something that you assume is a sort of goodbye. He is still asleep.

You look at him one last time before leaving the room and smile. He looks so peaceful.

You still remember the day you met, by pure luck even though you both call that fate. That was 5 years ago, when you just debuted your career as a model and were not that comfortable around high heels.

Okay no. Let’s be real.

You hated wearing them because you couldn’t walk in heels higher than 5 cm.

It’s still a wonder how you managed to make it in the first place.

Were you wearing flat shoes for the audition ? Damn you really must’ve done an impression on the judges if they made you pass without the heels try-on.

Your first day at the agency was chaotic to say the least. Your manager made you walk around the building, to visit she said. She made you wear heels. HEELS. That devilish person.

But, thank to that, you got to meet Taehyung. Your eyes landed on him as you were visiting the lounge and couldn’t tear them away from his figure. The poor man had to witness you fall down because you weren’t watching your steps anymore.

I mean.

Who could blame you ??

That was Kim frEaking Taehyung

!!!

He even came to help you get back on your feet and asked if you were alright, kind of amused.

It’s not everyday you see someone falling down in here, let alone a newbie

Let’s be honest, you were so embarrassed.

First day of work and you’re already failing falling.

That night when you came home, you spent the night wearing heels and prayed really hard you’d never have to face him again. After all, the building was big enough and there were enough workers that you could avoid Taehyung easily

If only

The NeXt day, you were told that you had a couple shooting, with none other that Kim Taehyung.

GreaT

He would occasionally tease you about your fall and check on you to see if everything was alright. He watched you carefully as you were walking around with heels.

From up close he looked even more handsome.... :)

After this day, you started talking with Taehyung more and more. He introduced you to everyone around the agency. You met outside of work, got to know each other. You both became regally good friends but there was something lingering in the air, in the way you’d look at each other or stood so close to him after a couple glasses of wine that you could breathe his air.

So what was bound to happen happened and you went from friends a to lovers without really noticing it.

He was still your best friend...somehow

Eventually, you took things to the next level and moved in together... maybe a half and a year ago or so ? You’ve never been happier in your life

And, well, you’d actually be happier if you could spend the day with boyfriend instead of running around trying to find god knows which accessories you need for the rehearsal.

8 in the morning is noT a time to be doing cardio.

Especially while wearing heels

Become a model they said, it’ll be fun they said

“Y/n! Come here please I need you to try on this dress before you go!” Your personal stylist calls “I made sure to fix it yesterday so it’d be a perfect fit for the show”

You stop your tracks and go to her “make this quick i have to go get changed before 9 otherwise I’m screwed. Why did they even decide to do the rehearsals so early today ?” You sigh, frustrated, and put on the dress she’s handing you “thank you”

“Okayyy...it looks great. Gold looks amazing on you.” She smoothes the dress and gives an approving nod, visibly satisfied ; “You’ll look perfect for the Grand Finale. Oh god it’s already 8:30 you better go before Mr.Kim throws a fit because you’re late”

You both giggle ; “thank you for fixing the dress Naeun, see you later today. Well, probably tonight. Byeeee”

The rehearsal seems to never end. You’re squeezed in dozens of different outfits, gorgeous for sure but sO tight. Mr. Kim, the one who organised the runway, is such a perfectionist that you have to re-do some things multiple times before he’s satisfied. One time the lighting isn’t right, the other the models are walking too fast, not on beat and so on.

Everyone hates him for that but he always makes the best shows so you just follow.

After multiple tries, the rehearsal finally comes to an end. It’s already 4PM. You barely get time to breathe and go pee before you’re back into the ‘running-around-to-find-my-dress-and-fix-my-makeup-oh-god-i-gotta-be-on-stage’ crazy mess.

Walking on the runway feels amazing, running backstage is terrible.

It’s so hot and small back there you can hardly move around well.

It takes 2 hours for the whole fashion show to be over, one more for pictures outside the catwalk and chat with reporters. Since you’re kind of a famous model now, you get invited to the afterparty and spend few extra hours interacting with some celebrities that attended the show. Other models were invited and you’re happy to see familiar faces amongst them. Jimin, an old colleague and friend of yours, comes your way and compliments you. You chat with him for a while before deciding you’ve had enough for the day and leave the party. A few more people greet you on your way out.

A taxi takes you back to you company, where you left your stuff in the morning. You spend an extra thirty minutes getting rid of your heavy makeup and striping off that gorgeous but awfully tight golden dress you’ve been wearing ever since the end of the runway.

Now, you can FinaLLy go home. yassssss

It’s almost 12am when you leave the agency and climb into yet another taxi. The ride is quiet, background music playing over the car’s radio, and you take some time to look at what you were gifted for your performance : fancy makeup products, accessories, pieces of clothing-but not those from the runway, you sadly never get to keep those. Being kinda famous has its perks :,)

You then decide it’s time to warn Taehyung you’ll arrive soon and send him a few texts. As if he was waiting for them, he instantly replies saying he’ll be waiting for you and proceeds to spam you with heart emojis. Sometimes, it looks like this man just discovered what emojis were and is trying to use them as much as possible. What a child…

It’s way past midnight when you finally step into your duplex and the first thing you notice is that the place is way too quiet.

Maybe Tae went back to sleep, who knows, it’s super late after all…

:(

You remove shoes and jacket and drop your bags in the entrance before going further and you call out quietly “anyone here? Tae, you sleeping?”

There is a faint glow from the tv on your right but the sound has been muted.

Weird…

“Taehyung ?" You call one last time

Suddenly, two strong arms wrap themselves around your waist and you’re pulled into someone’s chest. You gasp, almost scream, but soften up when you feel the warmth on your back

“Hi baby” a deep voice says in your ear, sending chills down your spine “I missed you”

You turn around and are very pleased to see a handsome face and a warm exposed chest your boyfriend smiling at you.

“Mhm, missed you too” You wrap your arms around him and rest your head against his chest, happy to hear his heartbeat. Taehyung places his head atop of yours and gently strokes your hair. You tighten your grasp around him and hum.

Few seconds later, he lifts your chin up and gently lays a kiss on your lips.

“How are you doing?” He asks, his right hand cupping your cheek. The warmth of it is comforting.

“Exhausted, but you know how it goes” You shrug and he smiles

“Not too tired for dinner ? I could cook something if you want”

“Mhm... let me just go shower and put something else on” You sadly let go of him

“Sure, go ahead” he whispers and you give him a kiss before regretfully tearing yourself away from him.

You walk up the stairs to your bedroom, where you find the bed undone. You smile, Taehyung never really liked making the bed and, very honestly, neither did you. You slump onto the mattress and bury your face into the pillows, inhaling his scent. Lavender. Relaxing. Just like he is.

After a warm shower, you find a t-shirt Taehyung left on a chair in the room and wear it. It’s big enough to reach your thighs and, if you were more energised, you’d probably stay like this. You grab large pants and put them on.

Once again, you smell lavender all around you.

When you’re back in the living area, you see Taehyung busying himself in the kitchen. He hears your steps and his eyes find yours as a smile appears on his face when he notices that you’re wearing his shirt

“My shirt looks better on you than it’d ever do on me” He teases, his gaze longing on your frame.

“maybe I should keep it then” you smile and ask ; ”Do you need any help?”

“no no no no no, you’ve worked enough already. Go and have some rest. I'll call you when everything’s ready okay?”

Too tired to argue on this anyways -and thankful for the given rest-, you go lay down on the couch, your body oriented to let you look at Taehyung.

As he hums and moves to the chill music that was playing in the background, you start to detail his beautiful figure. From the curl of his dark hair (which you knoW are so so soft to the touch) to his beautiful profile and his nose you love so much down to his broad shoulder and then his tanned abs you see from time to time when the opened shirt of his pyjama moves according to his steps.

oH! Let’s not forget his perfect hands gripping at the pan’s handle while he cooks… vegetables? Something like that yeah.

Taehyung is giving his best into what he’s cooking. Vegetables with rice, that’s the only thing he could do quickly.

Quickly as in less than half an hour, unlike his friend Namjoon who’d take this time just to cook the rice.

The music he put earlier is slowly starting to bore him. After washing his hands, he reaches out for his phone and plays a different playlist. It’s one you name yourself when the two of you were still friends (aka not dating yet). “Taetae fm” because you once joked he should have his own broadcasting channel on the radio. He’d always criticise the music playing so why not have his own channel 👀

“You know Y/n, I actually watched the fashion show live this afternoon. I mean, of course you know because I always do that haha. Anyways, you really were the highlight of the runway tonight. And I’m not saying this in a biased point of view. Okay I might be a bit biased as your boyfriend but I swear that it’s true!! You literally shone back there, especially in that gold dress you were wearing and even the audience was impressed by your looks maybe you didn’t see it on stage but some cameras filmed their reactions and everyone was looking at you. Really, you were so gorge-oh” Taehyung looks at you and smile fondly “Of course you’re asleep, baby”

He lets his phone aside and checks the now cooked food before making his way to the couch. There’s a blanket on the sofa, he covers you with it, scared you might get cold. Taehyung put a loose strand of hair behind your ear and places a kiss on your chin.

You slowly open your eyes and find yourself face to face with him. You both smile.

“Hi there beautiful” He whispers

“what time is it? Did I sleep until the morning?” You’re scared of having slept through the entire nap without realising

“almost 1:20am, I just finished cooking. I thought you might be cold so I went to cover you with the blanket. You should go enjoy the food while it’s still hot, imma go to the toilet”

You nod as an answer and watch him leave upstairs. Getting up from the warmth of the couch is the hardest part so you keep the soft blanket draped around your shoulders and walk towards the kitchen. You grab two bowls and two pairs of chopsticks that you place on the counter along with glasses and a bottle of water.

You then go take care of the rice and the vegetables, which you mix in the pan. The song playing changes and your favourite nighttime tune starts.

“I don’t want a friend, I want my life in two” you sing along

“Waiting to get there, waiting for you” Taehyung’s voice startles you as he grabs your wrists and pulls your back close to him. You smile as he makes the both of you dance slowly. You put his arms around you so it’s like he’s hugging you from the back. You swing around for a little while, enjoying the close proximity as you both softly hum the song, making your body vibrate against each other, moving in perfect coordination.

“I love you” he whispers in your ear and then kisses it, sending chills down your spine, before lifting one of your arm up to make you turn so that you’re now facing him “did my baby sleep well?” You nod as you place your arms around his waist, paying attention to go under the shirt so you’re touching as much skin as possible.

Taehyung chuckles before asking you in that same, chill-sending, low deep voice ; “Still hungry? Because I’m starving”

If you didn’t just wake up, you would’ve definitely caught that lust in his eyes and also the fact that this wasn’t as innocent as it seemed.

As an answer, your stomach growls pretty loudly, making Taehyung laugh . “I’ll take that as a yes. Sit down, princess. Let me take care of you”

You do as he says, jumping on a stool, detailing all of his moves. You only realise how hungry you actually were when you start eating. Rice with vegetables has never tastes better. You eat everything in less than 5 minutes when you’d usually take your time to finish your plate.

“Damn, that was a well needed dinner! Thank you Tae” you mess a bit with his soft locks

“Imagine me who was waiting for you all evening!! I was hungry too” He pouts.

“Oh come on, I was working today. Cardio in heels isn’t the best way to wake up, let alone spend the whole day standing in tight clothes. When I think you has a day off… pfff. I saw the bed, I’m sure you stayed there all day, you lazyyyyyyyyy ass.”

He mumbles some gibberish and you giggle, knowing that you're right. He looks away, crossing his arms and obviously sulking. You leave your stool and stand behind him, wrapping your arms around his neck. You leave a few kisses on his cheek and neck

“- Don’t be such a babyy. You know I love you.

- You do?

- of course, you dummy” you bop his nose "Sooo, what do we have for desert?

- You. Uh I mean!! Yoghurt, fruits, cakes, fruits…anything” he clears his throat

“Great! What do you prefer?” You open the fridge

“ I’d very happily eat you out honestly but an apple sounds good”

“Oh sur- wait whaT!?” You snap your head to him, eyes wide open

what did he sayyyyyyyy?????

whaT am I even supposed to say noW oh my goddddd

You close the fridge’s door, suddenly not so yogurt-hungry.

There’s a sudden silence between the two of you, only disturbed by the music still playing in the background.

“Mhm? What is it?” He turns around to face you, asking so innocently “did I say something wrong ?”

This man knows what he is doing for sure. Has he ever been that straightforward before ?

Taehyung stands and closes the distance between your bodies, now towering over you.

He lowers himself slightly to speak in your ear “what is it baby? Mhm?” You feel his smile on your cheek when he lays a kiss on it “what happened to my all proud and fierce y/n who was so confident telling me I was being lazy all day, huh? Tell me” He lays another kiss on your temple

OkaY

now he’s being a tease

Great

1 A.M. fluffy and bare chested teaser Taehyung

gReAT

Anyhow, it’s a good turn on.

Really.good.freaking.turn.on

Being tired and turned on was definitely not a good mix for you. You could feel the heat rising in your body and hear your heart pounding in your ears.

“Tae…”

He laughs gently seeing you silently begging for more, brushing your face with his lips, teasing another kiss.

“Tsk tsk, you gotta speak darling, I cannot guess”

You should calm down and go to sleep, it’s 1am and you have work tomorrow you should definitely-

“Fuck-“ You sigh and grab his face, sealing your lips together while closing your eyes.

It doesn’t take long for that kiss to turn into a heated make out session.

You grab and pull some of his dark curls while his hands travels under his your shirt.

You break the kiss just a second to catch your breath.

“Have i ever told you you have the perfect body?” Taehyung asks

“Did I ever tell you how perfect you are??” You reply

He laughs, deep raspy laugh.

You’re too tired for this

And because you’re tired, you’re even more horny :D

Taehyung puts his hands behind your thighs and you jump, locking your legs around his waist, hands still in his hair, lips against his while carries you to the bedroom.

He leaves your lips to travel down your jaw and then collarbone. You throw your head back.

Taehyung gently lays you on the mattress of your king sized bed and makes it his personal mission to pleasure you tonight.

[the-bau-quinjet]

Always

Summary: You overhear Steve talking to Bucky about going back to be with Peggy. Rather than confronting the situation, you write him a letter.

Warnings: I cried just thinking about writing this, so much angst, some swearing

Word Count: 3305

a/n: here it is folks: the sad fic I mentioned a few posts ago. Inspired by a multitude of songs from the album Ashlyn by Ashe. I high key recommend listening to that album while you read or just in general. I'm pretending like nobody died in Endgame because that shit is sad and I know this is sad aside from that, but I still have a heart ya know?

Per usual, any song lyrics (or song lyrics that I changed a bit) are in bold! I think used lyrics from Me Without You, Save Myself, I'm Fine, Love is Not Enough, and Always.

Masterlist

"You'd really want to go back?" You overheard Bucky right before you walked into Steve's room.

"I don't know." He let out a deep sigh. "I mean, I do know, but what do you think?" Steve's answer left you wondering what they were discussing.

"All for Peggy?" Your heart stopped waiting for Steve to reply.

Another sigh escaped his lips. You could easily picture him running his hands down his face, a signal he was deep in thought. "I mean, I never got a chance to see what would happen with her. Don't you think she deserves this much?"

You felt frozen. You couldn't hear the rest of Steve's answer or Bucky's reply over the sound of blood rushing through your ears.

It was all too much to handle. Rather than confront the grab bag of emotions swimming inside of you, you turned around and went back to your room in a zombie like haze.

"Friday, don't let anyone in my room."

You know the AI replied, but you were still too caught up in thought to understand it. Your mind was full of questions you knew you couldn't figure out the answers to alone.

Why would Steve want to go back for Peggy when he had you? Why would he even consider it if he loved you like he said he does? Is he still in love with Peggy? Has he been in love with her the whole time? Why would he choose her when he's spent so much more time with you?

"Y/N?" The sound of Steve's voice outside your door startled you. "Y/N, honey, are you in there?"

You could hear the doorknob rattling in his attempt to open it, but Friday was doing as you asked.

"I thought you were going to meet me downstairs?"

His words only broke your heart more, a small sniffle escaping despite your efforts to remain quiet.

"Are you not feeling well? What's wrong?"

His questions were left unanswered, much like the questions swimming around your head.

Steve kept talking to you through the door for a while, but you never replied. You weren't ready to face him, not until you knew you wouldn't say something you'd later regret.

-

The next few days carried on much the same. You refused to leave your room, relying on various snacks and protein bars you had for food. Every few hours, you would try to write down what you were feeling, but it didn't help calm you down the same way it typically did.

Everyone tried talking to you, but nothing worked. Steve spent hours outside your door every day in an effort to get you to talk to him, but you just couldn't figure out your emotions. It was all still too much to handle.

Late one night, Steve said something that forced you into action.

"Y/N, I don't know what happened, but if I did something I'm truly sorry. I'm returning the stones tomorrow. We've never not said goodbye before a mission... I just hope this one is the same."

You listened as he quietly walked back down the hallway, steps slowly receding until you were left in the same absolute silence you've spent the last few days.

You knew you had to talk to him, but hearing him say to your face that he's staying with Peggy would kill you.

You couldn't survive a permanent goodbye, not in your current state of mind.

After a few minutes of silent contemplation, you decided to write Steve a letter. Maybe you'd give it to him or maybe it would just help you organize your thoughts. Either way, it would be helpful to write to someone for a change.

Hi Steve,

I, well, I guess I'll start with this. You deserve an apology. I'm truly sorry for ignoring you for the past few days. I just... I heard what you said to Bucky and I didn't know how to deal with it.

You know I've never been the best at controlling my emotions, so I just holed myself up in here. I avoided you so I could figure out my own feelings first.

I know I should talk to you. You deserve that too, but I don't think I could survive the heartbreak. I guess I'll try to explain everything I've been thinking and feeling since that night.

Honestly, I'm not sure where to start. It feels kind of stupid to say, but I obviously experienced a range of emotions when I first heard you and Bucky talking about going back.

You know I've always found solace in writing, so that's what I'm doing. I needed a way to clear my thoughts, and it turned into this concoction of thoughts and some poems - you know how I feel about poems. (Look at that! A sarcastic comment! I didn't think I was capable of humor anymore.)

This might not surprise you, but the first emotion I clung to was anger. I'm not angry anymore, well at least not as angry. Anyway, I wrote this next part when I was absolutely pissed at you.

-

What the fuck?

You want to go back in time and stay there?

You want to leave me behind?

Steve, what the fuck is wrong with you?

I could keep you here. If I really wanted to, I could figure out a way to do it. I could cut the brakes just to keep you from leaving. I'll do it too. My hands on the wheel would drive us into a wall.

You must think I'm being petty. Hiding in my room like a child to avoid you. All the while, here I am writing all the things I could do to keep you. Well, news flash: I don't need you. You made me think the only world I could exist in, was one you lived in, almost had me fooled.

Here's something you probably never considered, because I sure as shit never thought I'd even need to. I can be me without you. I don't have to rely on you for my own happiness. I thought you loved me, but if you want to go back and be with Peggy, do it. Go find yourself, let me down.

It's easy to sit here now and look back on how everything we had would always be second string to your relationship with her. God damn hindsight's 2020.

I want you to know, you did this to me. You broke my heart. When I heard you say you wanted a chance to be with Peggy, it's like my whole world crumbled down around me.

Everything I thought I knew was ripped out from under me. You poured rain all over my sunny. Yeah, someday, this could all be funny, but right now it's absolute shit.

And maybe everything will work out the way it's meant to be, but honestly I couldn't give less of a shit about that right now.

If I had the chance, I would take it back. Everything. Meeting you. Becoming friends. Dating you. Falling in love. I'd be jumping off your sinking ship, instead of going down with it.

It'd be so much easier that way. If I never fucking knew you.

One day I'll be good. I'll be over all of this bullshit. Right now I'm just mad. And you know what, it's justifiable. I think I'm allowed to be mad at you.

I'm over being so mature. If only I was never yours. Maybe I'll go back in time and undo it all. Then at least I could save myself from you.

-

Like I said, I wrote that in the heat of the moment. Once my brain caught up to my ears, all I saw was red. Anger didn't last as long as you might think though.

All that was how I felt in the moment, but I want you to know it's not true. I don't really believe any of it. I was hurt and angry and avoiding the pain I knew was just around the corner.

I've always told you anger would be my downfall because I just can't control what I say.

Let me be completely clear, I would never want to undo meeting you. You've been the best part of my life for years. I need you to know that I don't regret any of it and I never will.

Anyway, the anger shifted to tears pretty quickly. It wasn't hard to feel the pain that comes with someone you love leaving you. I can't honestly picture a world where I don't love you.

This is the first poem I wrote. With tear blurring my vision, I put pen to paper and this is what came out.

Complicated. Understated. On the way to, Devastated. I'm just holding on for dear life.

Short and sweet, right? Well, not so much sweet, but you get the point. I feel broken. Here's another bit of poetry for ya.

Right now I'm sorry, Burns through me darling, But I can't help hope In thirty years it won't.

Maybe I just need time. That's what everyone always says. "Time can heal all wounds."

It's hard to even think about moving on though when everything reminds me of you. I've got emotional souvenirs from fleeting moments we spent together. If this is the end, I'll always know you were my golden years. I know in the future I could close my eyes and go back there.

Maybe that's the hardest part. Knowing I'll always have these memories.

All I've been thinking about for the past three days is if this will ever feel better. And maybe it will, when time has passed.

Maybe when I'm older, I'll run out of stories about you. Maybe when I'm older, I'll know what it's like not to love you, Anymore.

Despite my best efforts, it's still only a maybe. Maybe when I'm older I'll be able to stop thinking about you every second of the day. Maybe when I'm older I won't feel like crying everytime I see your face.

But maybe not. Maybe I'll always feel this way.

Maybe when I'm six feet, underneath the concrete, I'll know what it's like not to want you, anymore.

I'm not saying all this to make you feel guilty. You don't need to tell me you're sorry. I know you are. I know you would never hurt me like this without a reason.

I should just talk to you, but I don't think I can. Not yet. We don't need to talk til we're ready. Both of us.

I guess I do have one question. Do you really love me?

I don't think I want to know the answer right now. Because even if you do... it takes a lot more than a rose, more than a kiss, more than a heart to truly love someone and spend forever with them.

It takes a lot more than a ring, more than a vow, more than a promise to build and maintain a relationship.

Love is not enough. I know that now. Even if you love me to the best of your abilities, you could still love Peggy more. Love may not be enough for us, but at least we got that much.

If you leave, I'll live the rest of my life grateful that at least I got your touch for as long as I did.

I used to think we could take our sweet time, that everything would be just fine. But now I know maybe not.

I cried for days. Like I said, I'm not writing this to make you feel guilty though. I just want to be completely honest. I cried a lot, probably more than I ever have before.

I kept replaying memories of time I spent with you. Not even dates, just the small moments that made me know I love you.

Like that day I woke up too early, almost put salt in my coffee. Oh I thank God that you stopped me before that.

I've never been a morning person, but ever since I met you you've always been there to keep my head on straight.

I think the thing I love most about you is how you can read me better than anyone I've ever known. I can hide from everyone else and they won't bat an eye. They never can tell when I'm falling apart on the inside.

No matter how hard I try to hide it though, you don't believe me when I say I'm alright. You can always, always tell.

It's like you've got a sixth sense that tells you I need you when I try to say I'm fine.

Before I met you, I would get so lonely everyday. Now I'm only lonely until you ask if I'm okay and then I remember that I have people who are there for me. I have you.

All this to say, I love you, Steve. I love you more than I've ever loved another human being.

Forever yours,

Y/N

-

It took you nearly all night to write a coherent letter and come up with a plan to talk to Steve. A quick glance at the clock let you know Steve would be up any minute, so you had to act fast.

You opened your door for the first time in days, running in a full sprint to the stairs and down the hall to Steve's door.

With one final burst of courage, you shoved the letter under the door and ran away before anyone could find you out of your room.

-

"Y/N?" A familiar knock on your door woke you from a restless sleep. "I read your letter, Y/N please let me explain."

It felt like time slowed down as you stared at the door.

"Y/N, I have to bring the stones back, but I really want to talk to you first."

"Come in." You steadied yourself with a deep breath, but one look at Steve ruined your flimsy resolve.

"Y/N... I tried to wait for you to come to me, but..."

He stopped talking when you shook your head, a painful sob forming in your chest.

"I've been thinking a lot." You started slowly, voice scratchy from days of not being used except to cry. "What if staying with me isn't the best thing to keep you happy?"

"Y/N, I-"

"Please let me finish." You waited for him to acknowledge your words before you spoke again.

"If letting you go is the best way to show that I love you, I will." Tears poured down your cheeks, breaths coming to you shakily.

"Captain Rogers, your presence is requested in the backyard." Friday's voice echoed through the room.

Steve looked more torn than you've ever seen him.

"Let's go." You nodded toward the door. "I've got more to say, but you've got somewhere to be."

Slowly, the two of you walked down the hall and entered the elevator.

"I don't know if you'll ever come back-"

"Y/N, really just let me-"

"Steve, please." You begged him to let you get it all out. "I won't ask 'cause that's selfish."

"It's not." He cut in again.

"It is. You deserve to be as happy as possible." With a slow, shaky breath you continued your speech. "I've come to terms I might never feel whole again."

The elevator doors slid open. You followed Steve to the yard where they set up the time machine.

"I'll be broken when you're gone, but I won't hold you back if it's wrong."

"Steve, there you are! Let's go-"

"In a minute, Sam." Steve's eyes never left you, remaining soft and caring. "We can go back inside if you want." He ran his thumbs over your cheeks, ridding them of tears only to be instantly replaced. You've always hated crying in front of people.

"I don't care what people say." You shook your head, ignoring the potential pitying looks you could receive for crying in front of others. Another deep breath, and you continued. "You know I won't force you to stay."

It was your turn to wipe tears from Steve's face.

"If you leave, I'll be okay. Just promise that you won't forget me babe."

"I could never-" He cut in again only to stop when you gave him a pleading look.

"I understand if leaving is what you have to do. I don't want you to go, but I'll be okay, eventually." You let out a watery chuckle, wiping your eyes again.

"Y/N, I never meant for-"

"Steve, you ready?" Sam interrupted again.

"It's fine. You can go." You did your best to hold back any lingering tears. You had to physically turn Steve around yourself and push him towards the machine.

"Y/N, please, I can't-"

"Steve, they're waiting for you. It's okay, I promise." He finally started to walk away only to pause when you called out one more thing. "Oh, Steve?"

"Yeah?" He wore a solemn smile.

"I'll love you always."

You watched as he listened to Banner's instructions and bid farewell to Sam and Bucky. The bitter part of you wondered if Sam knew.

A strangled sob left your mouth as soon as Steve disappeared. All three men standing around the machine looked your way, Sam and Bucky running toward you to help.

"He should be back any second. It's fine!" Sam desperately tried to console you, but you knew it wouldn't work.

"Y/N. Y/N! Listen to me. Did Steve talk to you?" Bucky asked, ignoring Sam's bewildered expression.

You nodded pitifully.

"Did he explain-" You cut him off.

"He- he didn't ha-have time.: You stuttered as you tried desperately to gulp in air through the tears. "I did most of the talking. I needed him to know it was okay."

"To know what was okay?" Sam asked, still clearly confused.

The thought of explaining it only broke you down more. You would have fallen to the ground if not for Bucky catching you. Your body leaned into his.

"Doll..." Bucky shook his head. "You should have let him explain."

You choked on another sob just thinking about it.

"Shh, it's okay. You'll be okay." Bucky whispered in your ear, ignoring Sam's confused glares.

"Y/N..." The sound of Steve's voice echoed in your ears causing another painful sob to jolt through your body.

"Baby, please look at me."

You genuinely thought you were hallucinating when you opened your eyes to see Steve towering over you.

"Steve?" Your voice was barely a whisper.

"It's me, I'm here." He gently took you from Bucky's arms, cradling you close to him but leaning his head far enough away for you to look into your eyes.

"You came back..." Your tears slowed, gently falling down your cheeks as you stared at him wide-eyed.

"I was never planning to leave." He spoke while gently stroking your hair.

"B-but, you were talking to Bucky about going back?" Your tears gave way to confusion as you glanced between him and Bucky.

"Just to say goodbye." He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, breathing in your scent. "I just thought she deserved a real goodbye."

New tears pooled in your eyes as you took in his words. "So, you never wanted to leave me?"

"I could never, and would never, leave you. I love you so much. I just wish I knew why you were holed up in your room sooner." He smiled at you, the same adoring smile he gave you the first time you met.

"I love you too. Always." You leaned into his embrace, relishing in the touch you thought you'd lost forever. He whispered his reply, clinging to you just as much as you were to him.

"Always."

a/n: today I discovered I am truly incapable of writing a sad ending. I just like the idea of escaping to a reality where Steve would never abandon me.

Permanent taglist:

@averyhotchner

@jesuswasnotawhiteman

@strawberryspence

@sebastnstn

[inkykeiji]

the clock is ticking, running out of time

characters: shigaraki tomura

genre: smut and angst

notes: AAAAAAH HAPPY BIRTHDAY TOMURA!!!!!! sorry i seem to write angst for all of my faves birthdays ehehe. this is technically set in the touya-nii universe!! | title cred: birthday by katy perry

warnings: 18+ minors dni, cheating, implied stepcest/pseudo-incest, toxic relationships, the slightest hint of degradation, noncon/dubcon video recording, extreme feelings of guilt

words: 4.4k

synopsis:

“It’s fine—”

“It’s not,”

“I didn’t come here to talk about Touya,” you say gently, letting your dress drop down as you straighten up. “Let’s—Let’s not think about him right now, okay? Today is your day, and I want to focus on you. Forget about Touya,”

A deep frown mars his face, his nose twitching again. It looks like he wants to say more, but then your hands are on him, roaming across his bony chest and sliding into the tufts of silvery-blue hair at the nape of his neck.

“It’s hard to buy a gift for someone who already has everything,” you’re continuing softly, gazing up at him through your lashes, so close your noses nearly bump together. Sweet breath wafts over his face, a tongue darting out to lick at his lips, as if he’s trying to taste it. “So I thought…I thought the best gift I could give you is me,”

And suddenly, Touya’s wiped from his mind.

You shouldn’t be doing this.

That’s the thought that’s been looping through your head for the past forty-five minutes, for the entire bus ride from Touya’s apartment to Tomura’s, for the walk from the bus stop to his condo complex, for the thirty-seven seconds it takes him to answer the door.

You shouldn’t be doing this.

But you want to.

It’s been months since you’ve seen him last, months since you spent the night with him, months since you’ve spoken to him at all.

4:06. The glowing numbers glare up at you from the screen of your phone, unable to stop obsessively checking your phone, mentally calculating the time you have left over and over again, even though you’ve already meticulously planned this outing down to the very second.

It’s rare for Touya to be out for an exact amount of allotted time, but when he mentioned that he had a three hour full body check up with his doctor that just so happened to be scheduled on Tomura’s birthday…Well, it was too convenient for you not to seize the opportunity.

The door swings open, breaking you out of your thoughts, and your name leaves his lips in a gasp, crimson eyes searching your face in disbelief. A beat of silence passes before he speaks again. “What’re you doing here?”

“Wanted to see you for your birthday,” you say simply with a shrug and he blinks several times, still staring at you incredulously. “You didn’t think I forgot, did you?”

And for a moment you’re terrified you’ve made a grave mistake, terrified that he doesn’t want you here, that he thinks the risk is too big—Touya will murder the both of you if he finds out—too dangerous, his body gone rigid in the doorway, breathing stopped.

But then a brilliant smile is splitting his face, and he’s pulling you into his arms, crushing you to his chest as his fingers curl in the material of your dress.

And you—you practically collapse against him, sighing out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. He still smells exactly the same, just as you remember—like cheap cigarettes and watermelon bubblegum.

The scent evokes thick unfurling remorse, sinking heavily in your stomach, the mantra you’ve been repeating to yourself for the past few days immediately flowing through your mind, a desperate attempt to reassure yourself, to reason with yourself, to justify this decision.

Because you both deserve closure, don’t you? After everything that’s happened? After leaving him without a trace, without so much as a phone call or a quick text to at least let him know you’re okay?

Because Touya’s cheated on you how many times throughout the first six months of your relationship? One more teeny tiny instance of infidelity—the last one, you promise yourself—shouldn’t hurt, so long as he doesn’t know about it.

Right?

Really, this does nothing to dispel the culpability churning in your chest. No, Tomura’s bright boyish smile does that all by itself, sincere in the way it’s stretched across his face as he tugs you inside.

And...And suddenly, none of it really matters. Not in that moment, at least. Suddenly, all of those statements are rendered true; Tomura does deserve this. Suddenly, you realize just how much you’ve missed him.

“I have to be quick, I’m sorry,” your voice cracks under unexpected emotion, but Tomura doesn’t seem bothered by it at all, ecstatic over the fact that you’ve come to visit at all.

“That’s fine,” he’s saying as his hands roam your body, kneading and squeezing with surprising gentleness, eyes shining and wide as they follow his touch, as if he can’t believe you’re here, can’t believe you’re real.

It has your heart shattering in your chest, jagged shards puncturing your surrounding organs, burying themselves deep within you, never to be dug out. A lump lodges itself in your throat, voice frail and full of spit as you speak around it.

“I missed you so much,” the words rush from between your lips without your permission, and Tomura pulls back, smile fading as his gaze searches your face.

For a moment, you can tell that he wants to berate you for disappearing without any contact at all, can see it shining clear as crystal in his eyes as they narrow, as eyebrows knit and his nose scrunches, and you nuzzle your face into him. Guilt, a different kind than that which Touya evokes—this type lighter than the dense acidic guilt that sticks to your insides like thick tar any time sapphire sears through your mind, this type bitter and saturated with melancholy—roots in the pit of your stomach.

“I—I’m sorry I haven’t been able to text,” you mumble meekly, tears pricking your eyes. “Touya—”

“It’s okay,” he cuts you off with surprising softness, fingertips still trailing up and down your spine. “I figured. Uh, how is he? Like, how…How was he?”

The brand of those five letters, now fully healed, scald your flesh, blistering bright and hot as if you had just been branded again. With your bottom lip sucked between your teeth, you contemplate just outright telling him—he’s going to see it eventually either way, but you’re worried about ruining the mood a little too early.

No.

Better to rip it off like a band-aid, to get it out of the way now, instead of interrupting your birthday festivities later.

Your chest swells with a deep inhale, exhaling the words slowly.

“He was…” Livid. Furious beyond belief. Deeply hurt—distressed, distraught, dismayed. Visibly shaken up. In more pain than you’ve ever witnessed before. Terrified. “Upset. Naturally.”

Tomura waits for you to continue, speaking after a few moments of silence. “And?” he prompts, knowing Touya didn’t let you get away with a mere verbal warning, knowing you have more to say.

“A-And—” you bury your face against his neck, hot tears leaking from your eyes and staining his skin as they squeeze shut tightly, forcing the quivering words from your throat. “And he—He, um, he branded me,”

“What?” The word is just a huff of breath as large hands curl around your shoulders, yanking you from the sanctuary of his body so he can scrutinize your face, flashing crimson flying across your features. “He what?”

“His name,” you whisper, eyes still shut, face screwing up in distaste, the words bitter on your tongue.

“Where?”

“My ass,”

“Let me see,”

Eyes snapping open, your head begins to shake, motions cutting off when your stare meets his glare. Reluctantly you turn, flipping your dress up as you bend over a bit, pulling your panties down just enough to show him the slightly raised letters etched into your flesh forever.

Save for the soft, choked noise that sounds in the back of his throat, silence blankets the room, atmosphere suddenly stale and suffocating.

You glance back at him after a few beats, when your chest is beginning to burn from holding your breath in your lungs, and the sight that you are met with has your chest tearing itself in half, ribs caving in, giving way to the deep, dark ache swirling at the very core of your body.

Crimson eyes gleam in the setting sun, a thick layer of tears catching in the golden rays streaming through the window. It’s almost pretty in a way, brilliant ruby that shimmers and shines in the waning beams, practically glowing. But those beautiful, beautiful eyes are transfixed on your bare flesh, unblinking stare etching itself into your skin much like the letters Touya left behind.

His chin trembles just a little, front teeth sinking into his bottom lip in an attempt to halt it, head nodding in minuscule motions, barely noticeable, almost as if he’s confirming something to himself, affirming some unsaid thought sailing through his mind—almost as if he’s blaming himself.

“Fucking bastard,” he spits, though the words are wobbly, lacking heat and coated in sticky saliva. Using the sleeve of his black shirt, he wipes at his nose almost aggressively, quelling it’s twitching as he exhales harshly, nostrils flaring, before he sniffs twice and rolls his shoulders back, gaze finally meeting yours.

“It’s fine—”

“It’s not,”

“I didn’t come here to talk about Touya,” you say gently, letting your dress drop down as you straighten up. “Let’s—Let’s not think about him right now, okay? Today is your day, and I want to focus on you. Forget about Touya,”

A deep frown mars his face, his nose twitching again. It looks like he wants to say more, but then your hands are on him, roaming across his bony chest and sliding into the tufts of silvery-blue hair at the nape of his neck.

The glittering scarlet lace barely obscured by your thin dress singes itself into your flesh as his palms cascade over it, tracing every dip and curve of your body as they slide down to grope your ass.

You had bought the set for this occasion specifically—using cash you had stashed away, of course; Touya regularly checks your bank statements and credit card—with the intention of letting Tomura keep it, as a present.

“It’s hard to buy a gift for someone who already has everything,” you’re continuing softly, gazing up at him through your lashes, so close your noses nearly bump together, sweet breath wafting over his face, a tongue darting out to lick at his lips, as if he’s trying to taste it. “So I thought…I thought the best gift I could give you is me,”

And suddenly, Touya’s wiped from his mind.

He surges forward, foreheads bumping together from the strength, and crushes his lips to yours in a bruising kiss, nimble fingers curling in the hem of your dress and yanking, pulling the material from your body in one erratic motion.

He’s just as enthusiastic as he was all those months ago, large hands settling on your lace-clad hips as he guides you—back, back, back, stumbling over your own feet a little as he shoves forward, teeth clacking as his tongue tangles with yours, interspersed drool pooling at the corners of your lips.

A soft cry of surprise leaves your lips as he roughly spins the two of you so he’s the one reversing, collapsing in the overstuffed gaming chair abandoned near his desk and hauling you down with him, wheels rolling against the hardwood from the force.  

His lips are plush and chapped, kisses messy with strings of viscous saliva, and you’re reminded of how fun kissing Tomura is, playful giggles spilling from one mouth into another consistently breaking the flow as eager hands paw and pull, snapping the clasp on your bra and haphazardly discarding it, your fingers toying with the silver button of his charcoal jeans.

“Get on with it already,” he groans, impatient and entitled as ever, exactly how you remember, hips rutting up into you clumsily as hands travel up your torso to knead your breasts much too hard. And even though it shouldn’t, his predictability inspires a burst of intense warmth in your chest, burning bright like a tiny sun, heat seeping into your blood and flooding your veins as more involuntary giggles pry their way out of your mouth and into his.

“Think that’s funny, huh?” he asks, and although his eyes are fierce and sharp as they scrutinize your face, there’s a playful little grin decorating his lips, slender fingers tweaking a peaked nipple and snickering at your resulting yelp.

“Just missed you, s’all,” you mumble against him, lips dragging along his jaw then trailing down his neck, tongue peeking out to give kitten licks at self-inflicted scars and tugging pathetic little half-whimpers from deep in his throat, rough and uneven as he tries to swallow them back down.

There isn’t enough time for thorough prep, your only form of foreplay consisting of his cock being rammed down your throat—just get it fucking wet, he had demanded—hips stuttering as he desperately tries to keep from bucking while your tongue laves around the shaft, drenching it in spit.

“Fu-Fucking stop, or I’m gonna cum,” Large fists tangle in your hair, trying to yank you off his cock with a pathetic little whine. Gaping pupils outlined by a fine ring of scarlet observe the way your shining lips pucker around his girth as your mouth slides up, grip on your strands already loosening as his chest heaves, completely absorbed by your actions, breath escaping slightly parted lips in sweet little puffs.

A little tongue flicks against the slit as you reach the tip, placing an obscene openmouthed kiss to the head before pulling away completely. Your mouth hovers an inch above it, allowing a large glob of sticky saliva to dribble from your mouth onto the head, then kissing it again, pressing slippery lips to heated silky skin.

“Jesus Christ,”

The curse is nearly a moan, and you look up from your place between his thighs, batting your eyelashes and offering him a tiny smile. His eyes glitter as he gazes down at you, chest rising unevenly under the force of ragged breaths, a thumb swiping across your cheek in a manner that’s almost awestruck, as if he can’t believe you’re here.

“Get on my cock,” he orders a moment later, when the aching between his legs draws him back to reality, hips jerking up in reflexive, instinctive micro-movements, gleaming cock bobbing with the action. “And take your fucking panties off,”

It’s a little awkward and a lot uncoordinated, trying to maneuver yourself onto his lap while he slouches in that ridiculous gaming chair, unable to quell the way his hips prematurely thrust the moment you’re hovering over him, legs folded and cramped on either side of his thighs.

Pathetic little whimpers leak from your lips as his slick cock stretches your ill-prepared hole, cunt stinging as it struggles to adjust to the sudden breach, your nails digging into the lean muscles of his shoulders as a hiss is spit between clenched teeth.

But the moan he emits, deep and satisfying as you sink down on him, how his eyelashes flutter shut and his head knocks back against the headrest as he bottoms out, long ivory neck and prominent Adams apple on display, and the way massive hands grip your hips, fingertips digging into your soft flesh as he forces you to begin bouncing almost immediately, make it all so worth it.

Because he’s still so pretty, lids lifting a moment later to reveal dazzling ruby gazing at you in an almost voracious manner through thick dark lashes, glued to your face as he memorizes every micro-expression that transforms your features, the way your eyes roll back and eyebrows twitch, the way your mouth forms around those cute little gasps of his name that his rough thrusts punch from your chest.

“Did’ya miss my cock?” his breath is already coming out in short little pants, hips grinding urgently against yours, lacking any kind of finesse or rhythm. “B-Bet’cha did,”

“Uh-huh,” your head nods jerkily, hips rocking just as desperately into his as if to confirm your statement. His cock is pretty, too—a darker pink than Touya’s, half an inch shorter but just as fat, thick veins snaking around the shaft like vines.

“Dick drunk already?” he teases, and you’re positive his voice was meant to be more rancorous, but the large grin it’s spoken through, as if he’s proud of himself, chest nearly swelling with it, dilutes it, disintegrating the bitter shell that was supposed to coat the words. His tongue clicks, fluffy tufts of hair bouncing a little as he shakes his head. “What would your precious niichan think?”

You don’t answer—can’t answer—because it’s already so much, uncoordinated thrusting almost teasing in a way, the head of his cock unintentionally grazing that spot buried deep inside of you, the fleeting sensation mixing with that of the taboo, of the naughtiness of the situation, mewls spilling from your lips.

And you wish, so desperately, that you could take your time, that you could enjoy such amateurish gyrating, crude movements giving way to sloppy squelching that makes your stomach swoop and cunt throb as your clit glides against his pubic bone, but the mention of niichan reminds you of your finite amount of time and you lean back, soft palms finding the edge of his desk, fingers curling tightly around it.

Tomura’s bare feet planted on the hardwood keep the chair from shifting as you begin to really ride him, starting with slow, hard rolls of your hips that have cute little grunts hitching in his chest, bright eyes darkening as they watch, lids drooping a little, your movements increasingly gaining speed with each rock forward of your hips, leaning back against the desk and using it for leverage.

Blunt nails bite into your skin, and you want to remind him not to leave marks, but the words won’t keep their shape as they gurgle in your throat, evaporating into moans that break with each rough buck of his hips.

He finds a rhythm with you quickly, though, your lust-hazed mind dully noting that he’s better than before, the thought conjuring sudden, fierce spears of jealousy that slice through your chest, jaw clenching.

“Fuck, you—you’re still the best I’ve ever had,” he practically whines out, like he’s reading the thoughts on your face, but his voice is genuine, strained and hoarse with the confession. “Will probably always be the best I’ve ever had,” his sentence fades into a growl, almost as if he’s angry about it, hands squeezing your hips.

Nevertheless, you’re unable to stop the little smile those words paint across your lips, giggling breathlessly as bubbly warmth tingles in your chest, a sense of shameful pride rushing through your veins.

“Yeah?” he seethes in a huff, eyes narrowing. “Bet you’re proud of yourself for that, little slut,”

You are, you’re nodding, tongue rendered useless as his hips piston into you, cockhead repeatedly slamming against your cervix, reaching deeper and deeper and deeper the further you lean back, until the sharp edge of the desk is cutting into your back.

“I know you are,” he sneers, callous tone emphasized by his brute force as he fucks you. “V-Vain little bitch, happy she’s ruined me—ruined sex for me, forever,”

It’s getting harder for him to speak now, words punctuated by half-baked whimpers and swallowed, stifled moans, the sentiment under his speech accentuating pleasure for the both of you, dirty humiliation only making everything that much more intense, heady and addicting as it intoxicates your bodies, your minds, your souls.

“S-So the least you could do,” he begins in a keen, pace faltering as he squirms under you, yanking his phone from his back pocket. “Is give me something to—ah, Christ—remember you by,”

You should tell him no. You should cease all bouncing on his cock the moment he presses that little red button on his screen, the moment the flash next to the camera turns on, signaling it’s recording. You should.

But you don’t. You don’t, because he’s right. Because that guilt returns, seeping up through the floor of your stomach and spreading to your other organs, chest tightening as it reaches your heart. Because you took something from him, something he’ll never be able to get back, purely for your own selfish gain, just to get back at the man you love, and that isn’t fair. That will never be fair.

Instead, you look straight into the lens, hips beginning to ride him almost viciously, pushing out your chest further, bouncing tits on display as they heave with your lewd moans of his name, begging him to fuck you, begging him for his thick cum, and oh please, Tomura, please, give it to me, want your cum so bad, need your cum so bad, please!

He chokes on his own groan, the hand holding his phone beginning to shake slightly as the other finds its place on your hip again, his own thrusts pumping wildly as he spits expletives through gritted teeth, your pathetic little mewls egging him on.  

“G-Gonna cum?” he whines out, almost as if he’s begging you to say yes, the needy canting of his hips indicating that he’s about to, too, crimson searing into you as you nod messily. “Fucking do it, then, cream all over my cock like the good little whore you are,”

And you’re powerless to stop the loud cry that rips from your throat as your cunt clenches around him, only half of his name escaping in a yelp before your own shuddery gasp cuts you off, choking a little on the intense inhale, air sharp as razors as it rushes down your throat.

He follows less than a second later with a ferocious growl of your name, potent cum filling your aching little cunt, phone clattering to the floor as both hands grip your hips and force you to continue milking him until both of your bodies are shivering from the overstimulation.

You collapse against him, sweaty body melting into his, muscles quivering in exhaustion. Long arms encircle you, cradling you to his chest in a way that’s almost tender, phone laying forgotten a few feet away.

It’s just as nice as it was the first time, being swathed in his embrace, a gentle sigh slipping from between your lips. Nimble fingers trail up and down your spine, pressing into the notches, tracing the smooth, soft plains of your skin.

“Wish you could stay,” he mumbles into your hair, so quiet you nearly miss it—would have missed it if not for the vibrations in his chest.

Me too.

You want to tell him, want to express the same sentiment, to make it known that you desire the same thing, but the words tangle in your throat, that sticky brand of guilt that is specifically Touya refraining them from leaving your lips, yanking them back down into your chest with painful hitching breaths every time you try to speak.

You don’t even realize you’re crying until Tomura coos, pulling back a little to cup your face and tilt it up, big thumbs swiping across your cheeks as they catch glistening teardrops.

He doesn’t say anything—there is nothing to say—instead dipping his head to press his lips chastely to yours in the softest kiss he’s ever given you, mumbling his thanks for the birthday present a moment later.

There’s so much more you want to say, so much more you want to ask, but there’s no more time, opting to kiss him again in response, praying that it conveys all the things you can’t, all the things guilt won’t let you.

And then you’re scrambling off of his lap, collecting your dress off the floor and hastily pulling it over your head, turning back to find Tomura standing, holding out his hand, soaked lace in his grasp.

“Keep them,” you whisper, curling his fingers into a fist around the dainty material. “Happy birthday, Tomura,”

   ✰          ✰          ✰            

You have forty-five minutes before Touya arrives home—that’s cutting it close, you were supposed to have a full hour, but Tomura’s arms were so warm, his gently rising chest so inviting, his entire aura so comforting, that you had allowed yourself to indulge, just for a moment, to let your eyes slip shut and exhale a soft sigh of contentment, snuggling into his embrace and inhaling his distinct scent deeply, holding it in your lungs for a moment, wishing it would stay, wishing it would stick to the gummy walls, take root and find a home there, wishing you could keep a piece of him with you, always.

The water scalds your skin as you step into Touya’s glass shower, hands instantly reaching for Touya’s bodywash and squirting a generous amount in your palm.

You lather your entire body with it, until every inch of your skin is covered in foamy white suds, until your flesh has been scrubbed raw, the sharp scent—something woodsy and musky, like a crackling campfire of burning hickory wood, smoky and sweet—enveloping you entirely, stinging your nose.

It sticks in your throat and invades your lungs, as if cleansing you from the inside out, and you choke on it, are suffocated by it, little gasps and coughs falling from your lips while nails claw at your neck.

That dull ache returns as you rinse your skin, throbbing incessantly at the very core of your body as you watch the last remnants of Tomura swirl around the drain, infused in the soapy water.

It shouldn’t hurt this much, you’re thinking to yourself as your fingers massage shampoo into your scalp. It shouldn’t, but it does, a painful lump lodging itself in your throat, expanding a little more every time you try to reason with yourself until it’s gagging you.

Something stings your eyes—soap from the shampoo as you rinse it from your locks, or maybe the potently fragrant scent from Touya’s bodywash, you try to convince yourself, that lump sprouting tiny spikes and viciously slicing into the gummy walls, that lump forcing saliva still containing traces of Tomura to collect in your throat, that lump reminding you that you’re a fucking liar.

It’s fine. It’s fine. Touya doesn’t need to know everything, does he? What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him, right? And it was only a one time thing, wasn’t it? It’s alright, isn’t it?

These are the questions that cycle through your mind obsessively, running laps in your skull as you absentmindedly towel off your dripping body in your niichan’s bedroom, the gentle buzz of your phone snapping you out of your reverie.

For a moment, you’re terrified it’s Touya, texting you to tell you that he knows, you little slut, scrambling to snatch it off of the nightstand as trembling fingers hastily unlock it.

It isn’t Touya.

It’s Tomura.

best birthday present of my life, hands down. thank you. i love you.

The resounding slam! of the front door has your entire body flinching violently, the heels of Touya’s heavy boots thumping against the tile as he kicks them off mingling with his smooth voice as he calls your name.

It’s with watery eyes and painful little sniffles catching in your chest that your quivering thumb jabs at that tiny little trashcan in the corner of your screen, watching through blurry vision as the entire conversation disappears into the ether, gone forever—though those three glowing words that concluded the text are etched into the very tissue of your brain, where they will remain, forever.

[i-like-sparkly-things]

Right in front of you

A Halstead!sister

Jay held a strong grip on your upper arm as he led you out to the school hall. "What the hell was that Y/N? Are you happy now? God.... I can't believe you cheated!" he sneered, "EYES UP HERE Y/N!! "

"I'm sorry" you sighed, locking eyes with Jay, silently praying that he would let this go. It was only one time anyway. It wasn't a big deal.

But he let out a hollow laugh, "Thirty percent, Y/N, THIRTY PERCENT. You're going to have to do better than a half-ass apology. What exactly are you sorry for? Huh? For cheating? Or being caught?"

Requested : Yes by @study-coffee-chicago : They found out she cheated on a test in high school...and Jay's the one who has to pick her up.

Warnings : angry!Jay (lots of it), alcohol, swearing, anxiety attacks

Note : I am so so so sorry this so longg 😭 I ended up so far away from the actual request kayela please don't block mee 😭 butt I've learned alot in writing abt active and passive voices and using more imagery Yayy!! I'm so glad that yall are ok with my grammar thank uu🥺

MASTERLIST HERE

The piles of homework and flashcards you needed to memorize had no end in sight, and now that Will was taking nightshifts along with his usual double shifts, and intelligence was tracking down an underground drug cartel, you spent most days alone, allowing your mind to engulf you.

Every time you sat down to study, you felt a striking pain in your chest. In mere seconds the air was sucked out of your lungs and you found yourself panting, desperate to get oxygen back into your body.

You would be surrounded by books and worksheets and you could swear the walls of your room were closing in towards you, trapping you in a sea of incomplete work.

You failed to follow the schedules and to do lists you had made for yourself. Staring at them, hoping the essays would write themselves.

All you needed, was a break. A moment to relax from anything and everything.

So when your best friend mentioned that her brother used to drink a little before he appeared for an exam, your mind was quick to catch on.

Last night you had borrowed a little bit of beer from Jay's stash of alcohol and took a few sips of it as you studied.

The more you drank, the less bitter it became. It was a weird, new sensation, but it worked nonetheless.

Except now, you were sitting in the girls bathroom at school, ramaging through your notes, trying to recollect what you had learned yesterday.

You saw what you had underlined and highlighted— names in pink and important dates in yellow—but your mind came up blank.

Flipping the pages you saw people in wigs, and castles burning to the ground —None of which you recognized.

A wave of anxiety rippled through you unable to comprehend your next thought —you were going to fail.

Your head was throbbing as you ran a hand down face, massaging your temples trying to calm yourself down.

You took out your water bottle that you had filled with beer and swallowed a few gulps, hoping that it would help you think straight.

You groaned, feeling the sting of alcohol at the back of your throat, popping some mints into your mouth, you ran towards the exam hall.

***

Your foot bounced on the polished wood floors as sweat pooled on your forehead.

You thought you were careful —only taking a peek from your friends answer sheet when Mrs.Ling's back was facing you.

Everything would have worked out if it wasn't for that kid sitting behind you. In a split second your teacher turned around, when he dropped his pen, to see you peering over your partner's desk.

Now you were sitting in the principles office praying that Jay wouldn't be the one picking you up.

You could already imagine his anger at you for pulling him away from his case, only to find you cheated.

Unfortunately luck was not on your side today.

You dare not look at Jay as he entered the office, letting out a huff as he sat down. You could feel the rage emitting him, tension filling the room, as he burned holes looking at you.

"I'll get straight to the point" Your principal started.

"Please" Jay growled, struggling to contain himself. He couldn't believe what he was hearing, when he got the call saying that you had cheated on your midterms.

You and Will were alike,at least he thought so, both good at science and math but weak at geography and history. Nonetheless you continued to secure good grades for the most part.

"Y/n here, was caught cheating from a classmates answer sheet. Our teacher caught her red handed. I truly did not expect this from you. These midterms cost thirty percent of your grade..... "

Pretty soon his voice was muffled like he was getting farther and farther away from you. His figure swayed in front of you as you squinted your eyes to keep him in the center of your vision.

" You are suspended, Mrs halstead"

Your eyes widened , your body choosing the perfect time to bring out what little beer you had taken when you heard those words, letting the alcohol mix with the adrenaline.

"WHAT??!! " Damn, alcohol really bought out your courage as Jay stared at you in shock at your audacity.

"Y/n, your lucky I'm letting you retake the exam. That's only because you've had a clean record so far. I strongly suggest you start preparing early Ms. halstead" your principal said in a firm but monotone voice that left you speechless.

Jay held a strong grip on your upper arm as he led you out to the school hall. "What the hell was that Y/N? Are you happy now? God.... I can't believe you cheated!" he sneered, "EYES UP HERE Y/N!! "

Oh god. Every now and then, the ground would sway beneath you, tiles shifting in your vision. But you counted your steps, carefully putting one foot in front of the other, not wanting Jay to find out what else you had done........ until now.

You tilted your head, only to be met with your brother's piercing stare but little did he know, now it made it infinitely harder to concentrate on your walking.

"I'm sorry" you sighed, locking eyes with Jay, silently praying that he would let this go. It was only one time anyway. It wasn't a big deal.

But he let out a hollow laugh, "Thirty percent, Y/N, THIRTY PERCENT. You're going to have to do better than a half-ass apology. What exactly are you sorry for? Huh? For cheating? *Or being caught?*"

***

You rested your head on the seat as Jay entered the truck, flinching, when he slammed the door shut. Your pounding headache was getting worse by the minute, as your ears started to ring.

You blinked a few times squinting to focus on the road ahead of you but the fast-moving cars and the loud horns made you feel like your head was going to explode.

"Y/n," he addressed you, much calmer now.

You forced yourself to turn to your brother, who wore a confused expression.

But the moment he saw your deshelfed hair and your cracked lips, a wave of worry crashed over him. What the hell?

The truck came to a stop at a red light and Jay immediately scanned you over "Y/n?" he grabbed your chin, his jaw dropping, as he came face to face with reality.

"Are you drunk!!?" he barked , steam basically pouring out of his ears.

But your pleading eyes and empty silence gave him the answer he needed. "Are you kidding me??" he snarled as he slammed the steering wheel.

Oh God no. A blinding pain ripped through your head when Jay's palms made contact with the hard plastic. You winched turning your head away from your furious brother, letting out a whimper.

Jay's eyes widened at the sound, his heart breaking, realizing the pain you were in.

If he was going to be mad at you or at least punish you, you needed to be sober.

He stepped on the pedal as the light turned green taking a few breaths, trying to calm himself down.

With the vice lords reclaiming their territory and selling uncut fentanyl, bodies were dropping all over the city most of them being kids.

Kids..... your age.

Every kid at the morgue, just reminded him of you. He saw parents sobbing, begging for their kids to come back but Jay new better. They were never going to come home. Ever.

So he made it a priority to catch these ruthless creatures. He made it a priority over his sleep, over nine hours shifts and unknown to him, over spending time with you.

"Hey , hey" he whispered, not wanting to hurt you again, "We'll talk about this later ok? for now...... just..... it's ok..... I've got you" here reached out his hand, the other still on the steering wheel, to slowly rub your back as you tried to breath through the pain.

" I got you"

***

Jay wrapped a hand around you allowing you to hold onto him for support.

Silently, he deposited you on the couch, laying you down. He knew that he wasn't in any state to talk to you. He needed to clear his mind from his racing thoughts and rueful images of dying teenagers.

His phone rang, indicating that the district was awaiting him. "Here" he reluctantly shook your shoulders "Y/n, I need to go ok? Will will be here soon"

***

Almost half an hour had passed and you were waiting for Will to get out of the shower. You'd heard Jay explain everything to him over the phone.

You thought about how disappointed he would be.

Will —being the nerd he was— always helped you with your projects and gave you pop quizzes during breakfast, before your exams. He taught you how to organize flashcards just like he did in med school.

Even through your blurry thoughts, the image of Will's betrayed face and embarrassed eyes, knowing you cheated, lingered on your mind.

Your body was all over the place. Tiny noises echoing through your ear. Your muscles simultaneously aching and loose.

You were shivering as you tried to curl up into a ball. Your body trying to hold what little heat it had within itself.

But nothing stopped your tears.

You felt water drops make their way down your cheeks forming small splotches of water on the cushion you laid your head on.

And you didn't bother to wipe them away.

Will more or less was in the same state you were in. There was a multi-vehicle accident on the highway and victims were piling in the ED. He was running from one treatment room to the other, waiting to get back home and crash.

Will walked over to you with a huge glass of water and an advil, gently  nudging you to sit up.

Your head still pounded, your eyes zoning in and out of the figure in front of you "Y/n, here drink the whole glass and take this" Will soothed, placing the glass and the pill in your hand "I—I'm sorry" You whispered, distracting yourself from Will's eyes.

Will knew he should be angry. Just like Jay was but he couldn't bring himself to blaming you, not until he had the full story anyway.

You looked so petite on the enormous couch, your legs folded on top of each other, arms shaking as you drowned the glass of water along with the Advil.

Your red puffy eyes and tear strained cheeks,were a contrast from your usual self. or he thinks. He's been pretty busy lately, so he's not too sure. " We'll talk about it later. I'm not angry. I promise"

He assured and was about to head to bed himself when you grabbed his wrist.

If he wasn't angry at you then maybe— just maybe—he would help you.

"Stay" You pleaded , the word falling from your lips just as easily as it had, many, many times before.

And just like before, you were met with Will's soft brown eyes filled with sympathy, ready to help. Ready—to be by your side.

He's slowly nodded climbing onto the couch, next to you. He wrapped an arm around you and you nestled into him, laying your head on his chest.

You found some comfort as he embraced you, talking you under his arm and encompassing you in his warmth.

Holding on to him, you hoped that he would take your pain away, just like he did when you were little.

***

Will woke up to an uncomfortable feeling of something —or someone—   tugging at his shirt.

He slowly opened his eyes allowing them to adjust to the light as he felt another a tug at his side. He looked over to you, but your eyes were shut, brimming with tears, your arm laid across his chest.

You were holding on to Will , using him as a lifeline, grounding you from the pain.

You felt a hand squeezing your own, stopping you from gripping the fabric "Y/n?" You opened your eyes to look up at will who had tears of his own, staring at the state you were in "it's okay, I'm here, I'm right here"

He encircles you, tighter than before, whispering soothing assurances into your hair.

***

With Will's help, the pain slowly subsides, allowing you access to your thoughts again.

You step out of the shower, into the living room and your eyes widen seeing Jay and Will sitting at the kitchen counter.

You didn't even hear Jay come in, but right now taking in his hardened glare, you didn't dare ask.

You knew what was coming and you didn't fight. You couldn't.

"So apparently we're cheating on our midterms now, huh?" Jay's calm voice made shivers run down your spine, starting to take rapid breaths.

"And apparently, someone thinks it's ok to steal alcohol from my stash" He gritted, never breaking I contact with you. "Do you think that's how the world works Y/n? DO YOU? BECAUSE LAST TIME I CHECKED YOU'RE STILL A FUCKING TEENAGER!!" He spat, his thoughts fuming towards your trembling body.

It was every dieing body flashing before his eyes, as the past months' agony slipped off his tongue.

"Jay" Will's voice was stern, giving a knowing look towards his younger brother and didn't bother to give Jay time to argue with him.

"Y/n, we need to know what's going on"

"With school, with tests with....... everything" he stated giving you a solemn look meaning every word he said, promising himself that he would do whatever it takes to figure out what had been going on.

You sucked in a breath weighing all your options. You didn't want them to think that you needed a babysitter or  that you couldn't take care of yourself.

You knew that they had their own problems to worry about but you couldn't take it anymore.

You hated it.

The feeling of your lungs collapsing, struggling to find air for your body, your stress skyrocketing anytime you sat down to study, never getting any thing done.

All day long you would constantly tell yourself to do your work. Every spare second is spent in making a list of things you want to do but when it was time to actually do those things, your mind wandered and emptied.

You took another deep breath, looking up from your feet, your eyes meeting your brothers.

You spilled the past months events from how alone you were all the time and not being able to concentrate to how you ended up drunk at school and cheating on your midterms.

Tears rolled down your cheeks as you your hands trembled. You stood crying in the middle of the room until you felt a pair of arms around you.

Will placed his hand at the nape of your neck as he stroked your back with the other "Breathe Y/n, just Breathe" He slowly pulled away leading you to the couch.

God, how he wished he could turn back time. Then he'd been more vigilant to notice the changes that had come over you.

You felt the couch dip on both sides but you intently studied your fingers, fumbling with the hem of your shirt and wiped the tears off your face. They were mad. No, they were furious. You knew it.

But for some reason, they weren't showing it. Maybe they were waiting-

"We're not mad"

You without your head around to look at Jay, furrowing your eyebrows in disbelief. Jay? Not mad? HA.

"but I am disappointed though, but that's only because you didn't tell us......

but stealing alcohol was bad too" he added, earning him a glare from Will.

"Y/n, what Jay means is— we could've helped with school . Homework . Tests . Anything, you name it. We will help" he assured, "But how do we know you need help, if you don't tell us?"

You sighed, taking in the weird turn of events that had happened before you. You had wasted all this time, trying to figure out all your problems out, when the answer was right in front of you.

A mountain of guilt now sat on Jay's shoulders, weighing down on him, pushing him deeper into a wormhole of 'if's'.

Maybe if he'd just been a little more careful, this wouldn't have happened.

Maybe if he'd stop and listen to you once in a while, this wouldn't have happened.

While trying to save kids out on the street, he forgot to care for the kid at home. You were his sister, and yet, here you are in front of him, barely keeping yourself together.

But that would change. Right here. *Right now.*

"Y/n," Jay started "If you would have told us how alone and stressed you were feeling.....I would've taken some time off... Maybe we'd watch a movie or something. All you had to do was ask...... And we'll get you the help you need, y/n. You good with that?" he questioned, his anger and frustration dissipating.

You saw your brother, the workaholic detective, wanting to put his job aside, for you .

You were more important to him, than his job—You realized.

" Yea... Yeah, I am"

Will stood up and got another advil with another glass of water. "and maybe you wouldn't end up drunk and cheating on your test" he smirked, crouching in front of you.

"God, I didn't think it would hurt this bad. I am never drinking again!" you smiled , as you drowned the pill.

"See now that's what I like to hear!!" Jay exclaimed, wrapping his arms around you, squeezing you into his chest. You squirmed, trying to get out of his grip, laughing, when you were joined by Will.

You know what? Maybe, things are going to be okay? Ya know?

__________________________

Read more of my fics here!!

Tagging : @girlandthemoon @herecomesthewriterwitch @megaliciab @meyocoko @alkadri-layal

[chubbology]

A Little Incentive

prompt: someone skinny grows chubby on their partner's good cooking and insistence they eat well

From the tempting smell of bacon and syrup that wafted into the room, I knew she’d outdone herself this morning.

“I made breakfast,” she stage-whispered to me. I grinned and turned over in bed, feigning sleepiness even though what I really wanted was to sit right up and take that plate from her hands.

Then my stomach growled and she laughed.

“The others are jealous,” she said. “But I told them they already had a habit of eating breakfast. You’re the one I need to hammer it into, by any means necessary.”

I took a deep breath and sat up in bed, pushing hair out of my face. “Consider me incentivized.” I took the heaping plate of breakfast food that she pushed at me, then the fork, and started into the chocolate chip pancakes, which were half soaked in syrup. Also on the plate lay bacon, eggs, hash browns, a muffin, and…

“French toast sticks, too?”

“As a reward for finishing all your exams! I know you like them.”

I thanked her. She poked my side and smiled fondly at me. “At the beginning of this semester, you would have said this was too much. I hope you know that it makes me the happiest girl in the world that you’re eating properly now.”

In response, I took a bite of extra crispy bacon and groaned in pleasure. As she got ready for the day, I considered her comment. Eating properly. She and I had different definitions of that, or used to at least.

My first two years of college were hard. Working part time, taking hard classes, dealing with an awful roommate. I barely took care of myself. I thought eating properly was eating at all. But then I met her and we hit it off, became friends and then more than friends, then moved in together with a couple more roommates just barely off campus. All the while, she made a point of showing me each day what eating properly meant to her: big meals cooked in the kitchenette or piled onto plates in the dining halls, snacks throughout the day, and never forgetting dessert. It kept her chubby, but she didn’t mind. I certainly didn’t.

“Bye!” I called out as she left for her last day of exams. She seemed confident about how hers had gone so far. Me? Not so much. I was never a good test taker.

I finished my plate down to the crumbs. I went and leisurely washed the dishes. I had pretty much nothing to do today. From the silence coming from the other bedrooms, I knew I had the apartment to myself, too. I could go outside, but it was too hot. And like hell I was going to go to the library again until I absolutely had to. There were always video games, but I stayed up late last night staring at screens, trying to forget my poor performance on my own last exam of the semester. I felt burnt out on everything.

I blinked in confusion when I realized I’d opened the fridge. I closed it. I literally just ate, so I don’t know why I’d…

The next three hours, I spent back in bed. Looking on my phone, resting my eyes, worrying about exam results, and tugging on my pajama pants. They were tight because I was so full. Eventually I decided to do something productive, starting with a shower. Maybe I could drive to a café or something, hang out there.

After showering and dressing (since I wasn’t exactly full anymore, I figured the tightness of my shorts was from bloating) I wandered into the kitchen for something to snack on. The fridge was always well stocked, and I eyed the rest of the batch of muffins in tupperware. I heard her voice in my mind: It makes me happy when you treat yourself.

What the hell. I took out the container, opened it, and took a bite out of the cinnamon raisin muffin. I closed my eyes. Big and sugary and so good. Better than the first one, maybe, because it had cooled off and I could better taste the flavor. I ate another one. And then I treated myself with a third before closing the lid again. There were still eight left.

I tried putting the container back in the fridge, but something stopped me. Go ahead, I heard her say. You don’t eat enough.

Slowly, I opened the container again and ate two more of the muffins. They were just so good. Then I put the container away, firmly slamming the fridge door and biting my lip. Truth was, she stopped telling me I don’t eat enough months ago.

I went back into the bathroom and took a good look at myself, which I’d avoided doing before. Truth was, my shorts were tight because, thanks to my partner’s cooking and our lingering stays at the dining halls and my new penchant for snacking, I had filled out more than a little. I’d put on my own chub. My shirt clung to my sides, which were soft and rounded (Is that why she poked me?), and upon closer inspection, I couldn’t deny my face looked tubbier, too.

I stood in quiet shock for a while, gently pressing my palm to the outward slump of my belly, its natural shape when I didn’t suck it in. (When did I start unconsciously sucking it in?) After a minute of dazedly contemplating my weight, I rummaged around for a dusty scale and stepped on it with bated breath.

My jaw fell open. My whole face, my neck, my ears flushed red, even though there was no one to see me there, finding out I was thirty seven pounds heavier than expected.

Forty pounds? Almost forty pounds? It was impossible. I didn’t look that much bigger.

But she had always said I was too skinny. So maybe twenty of those just filled me in? And then the rest was…extra? Forty pounds.

The surprise waned after a few more minutes of checking myself out in the mirror. I found I wasn’t as upset as society had led me to think I would be.

I did go to a café later that day. My newfound self-awareness didn’t kick back in until after I got a grande frappe and a scone. At my table, I thumbed the belly that now warmed a small part of my lap before eating and sipping my treats anyway.

My shorts felt so tight after a while, I just unbuttoned them and hoped no one would notice.

I spent a few hours there, reading and browsing my laptop and giving my soft belly secretive, intrigued touches before I started thinking about the six remaining muffins at the apartment. When I got back, I found I was in good company.

“I really did good on these,” she said, swallowing. “Want one?”

I took one, trying to hide my sheepishness. Did she guess it was me who ate the five that were missing? Or did she think it was our other roommates? Did she think…

“You want to get a late lunch?” “I think I need new clothes.”

We stared at each other. She chuckled, “Sorry, what?”

I flushed, tugging conspicuously on my shorts, not quite able to find the words. “Need to go shopping.” I’ve gained almost forty pounds. Forty pounds! My throat constricted.

“Oh.”

I looked up at her. “You’re a good cook,” I said, grinning. Still a little embarrassed.

But now she was a bit pink in the face, too. “Yeah, we should go shopping. Um. You aren’t mad. Are you? I just really like to cook and bake, and you really were too skinny and—”

“No, no! I’m not mad. I—”

Am I going to get fat? I wanted to ask her suddenly, and I felt very warm. I’m always eating these days. What if I outgrow the new clothes I buy? What then?

“I hope you know I think you look good,” she blurted. My thoughts ceased. “Really good.”

Suddenly, I was aware I’ve been sucking my belly in again. Would it be weird if I stopped? Just let it...swell out? I took in a deep breath, then let it all out, not sucking in this time. Her wide eyes fixated on my chubby lower belly.

“Thanks,” I said, trying not to be awkward. “To be honest, I only noticed recently that I look…different.”

Her eyes met mine and she looked very adoring. I’m sure my expression was identical. “Just a little. I was surprised how much your appetite grew.”

“Yeah. You still want to get lunch?” I asked. “Kinda feel like the dining hall.”

Kinda feel like going all out.

I won’t get fat.

Only a little, maybe. Not the end of the world.

“Okay,” she squeaked, as if hearing my thoughts. “Good idea. After all my stupid exams, it’s time to treat myself.”

I wholeheartedly agreed. So we went.

I loved how she looked shyly excited the whole time, as I overdid the second and third helpings. It seemed to make her overdo it some, too. Which spurred me to make it a competition, and there we sat together, overeating like a couple of chubby fiends.

“Still think you’re too skinny,” she taunted me, as we left, already discussing plans for dinner.

*

Thank you to the reader who commissioned this work!

I'd love to write more. Check me out <3 etsy.com/shop/Chubbology

[astaroth1357]

The Obey Me Cast on a Camping Trip (Part One: Brothers)

Hey guys, thank you sooo much for getting me to 2,000 followers!! I honestly don’t know what to say... I never dreamed that this little hobby of mine would reach so many eyes, and I can’t be more grateful. At a time in my life where things feel so chaotic and uncertain, being a part of this community and sharing my weird ideas has been what’s kept me going. It’s been such a rewarding experience all around, so thank you. From the bottom of my heart. 😊

I pulled out all the stops for this post. I even brought out one of my favorite songs of all time: Ao to Natsu by Mrs. GREEN APPLE to get the feel juuust right. I hope you all enjoy it!

This post is split in two due to length (I had too much fun again...) For the Undateables, please click HERE!

Intro:

Another day, another team building activity between the demons and the exchange students. It was Diavolo’s idea to go on a camping trip to the human world (because of course it was), and there were very… mixed responses. That sentiment wasn’t helped when he refused Lucifer’s insistent pleas to just purchase cabins for everyone to stay in. Oh no, the Demon Lord wanted to rough it out in the wilderness, and now everyone else was getting dragged along with him…

Wonder how that turned out?

Lucifer

Really, really, really tried to push Diavolo to just rent out cabins in but noooo, he wasn’t having it... So he ended up driving a van crammed with his brothers, the MC, and a butt-ton of camping equipment into the Alaskan wilderness… 

The car ride itself was insufferable… We’re talking, “I SWEAR I WILL TURN THIS CAR AROUND!!” level of antics every 10 miles or so (mostly from Mammon)…

Setting up camp was even more of a nightmare because about half of his brothers were utterly useless. The other half (save Satan) were completely clueless… Had it not been for Barbatos and Satan he probably would have just resigned himself to the mercy of the river’s currents and let it take him away…

He couldn’t even wear his usual clothes because of the situation… For the first time in who knows how many centuries, he was stuck wearing jeans… Diavolo even bought him several plaid shirts... (which he was not happy with btw because his brother wouldn’t stop making fun of the “new” him)

He had his own tent of decent-size, enough to move around in but nothing to write home about. The very fact he didn’t have to share was a luxury in itself, so he took it for what it was worth...

He spent a good portion of the trip focused on two things: keeping Diavolo happy and everybody else alive. He rarely left camp unless forced to; he just wanted to get it all over with as soon as possible…

If he did leave, it was because Diavolo would drag him along to fish or hike. He was... less than pleased to be called out of his tent at the crack of dawn or well past dusk to sit on a little rented fishing boat with Diavolo… but he didn’t exactly pick his friends so...

He rates the trip Too Much Trouble/10. Let’s never do it again.

Mammon

Wasn’t a massive fan of being stuck out in the wild, but Satan told him some made-up bullshit about buried treasure out in the forest and got him HOOKED. He even borrowed stole a whole bunch of mining/digging equipment just for the occasion!

He spent most of the car ride asking, “Are we there yet??” like a child. The MC had to step in to keep Lucifer from leaving him on the side of the road at multiple points during the journey... 

He was one of the utterly useless ones when it came to setting up camp. Someone charged him with putting up the twin’s tent, and he spent thirty minutes reading (then re-reading) the instructions while shouting expletives. Poor Simeon had to shield Luke from the vulgarity…

He has to share a tent with Levi, which neither of them liked. Mammon mainly because of Levi’s “old fish stink” and Levi because he feared catching “Mammon’s stupid.”

He was all jazzed up to go digging from Day One, though. He’d have breakfast, grab his shovel, then wander out into the middle of nowhere to go dig holes in the ground…

He also got completely lost on Day One, and it took the MC summoning him with their pact to return him to the group... By that time, he was filthy and somehow looked like he had been castaway for days (even though he was gone for like, three hours?)

When he stubbornly refused to stop digging, Lucifer resorted to just tying a rope around his ankle and letting him loose. It was up to Mammon to get back to camp before dinner, or else Lucifer would yank him back like he was on a leash.

Satan waited until the last day to finally tell Mammon the treasure was bullshit, and he was PISSED. He even threw Satan into the river, which resulted in the rest of the brothers joining in for a swim while the two tried to “playfully” drown each other.

He’d rate this trip 0/10 because he didn’t get any buried treasure. What a ripoff…

Leviathan

Hated the idea with a burning, seething passion. There’s no internet, cable, electricity, or phone signal out in the middle of nowhere! How the heck is an otaku supposed to survive?!

He clung to his electronics during the car ride until either they ran out of signal or their battery died, then he didn’t know what to do with himself… He resorted to reading several volumes of the manga he stuffed into his bag and clung to the MC for emotional support…

Yet another useless soul trying to put the camp together. He was in charge of his and Mammon’s tent but ended up almost crying in frustration… How the hell do humans do this all on their own?? Wasn’t he supposed to be the third strongest?! Why is he so pathetic?!? 😫

Hates sharing a tent with Mammon because he always wakes up to the second born encroaching on his space somehow… Poor baby is pretty much directly against the tent wall and STILL has to deal with legs and elbows in his side... 😰

Spends the majority of the trip moping in the tent... If he goes out there, he has to deal with the sun, bugs, and people… No thanks. He only leaves for meals and occasionally to go swimming. 

When he found out part of the way through that Barbs brought portable solar panels and a battery pack for Diavolo and Lucifer’s phones, he was livid. He demanded access to the power source, which Lucifer refused because “It would defeat the purpose of this trip.”

He’d have summoned Lotan right then and there, deadass in the middle of the forest, if the MC hadn’t intervened. He then went back to moping, but now at the bottom of the lake and it took a lot of coaxing to get him back out…

On the final day, he was packing up the camp before anyone else even woke up. He wanted OUT and back to civilization ASAP. Bedroom here he comes!

Satan

You wouldn’t think of Satan as an outdoorsy guy. Still, he has shades of a survivalist in him (mostly because he’s read a lot of guides and was looking for an excuse to use them for a loooong time).

He read for the majority of the ride. He was squished between Asmo and Levi, which was reasonably peaceful. But he did end up shouting at Mammon quite a bit towards the end because “NO, we’re not there yet, peabrain!!”

He actually wasn’t a waste of space when setting up the camp, and between him, Barbs, and Lucifer, they were able to get a lot of stuff set up before sundown. He did have to bark a few orders to the others here and there, but overall competency won out in the end.

He shared a tent with Asmo, and the two made it work well enough… Except when Asmo did things like spraying his perfumes and dry shampoos, making it practically impossible to breathe in for a few minutes…

Spent a lot of the first few days reinforcing the camp to a ridiculous degree.

Did he have to collect large branches to build an exterior fence around the campsite? No. But he did.

Did he have to set up a water distillation system using some of the materials Barbs had lying around the “kitchen?” No. But he did.

Did he have to weave a series of fishing nets to catch them lunch from the lake and river? I think you get the point by now.

Only once he built pretty much every contraption or improvement he could think of, did he go back to just reading and relaxing by the fire.

By the time the group was ready to leave, Satan had somehow managed to craft them a veritable, self-sustaining fortress in the middle of the Alaskan wilds…

Overall he would rate the trip as… meh. Next time give him a challenge like a deserted island or an actual desert, and then he’ll really see what he can do.

Asmodeus

Was about as unhappy with the idea as Levi was… It wasn’t that he disliked the outdoors per se, it was just that no one, NO ONE, pulls off looking flawless after several days stuck in a tent!

He chatted the entire car ride from start to finish. He never stopped talking. It made for decent background noise at least…

Was one of the more clueless ones when trying to set up camp and pretty just did what he was ordered. The second he was left to try and figure something out on his own, he went to Lucifer or Satan for help because NOPE. Human equipment is needlessly complicated sometimes…

He had to share a tent with Satan, which in theory shouldn’t have been that bad, but Satan was out basically all day in the sun doing who knows what and would always come back sweaty and gross! At some points, he had to chase his brother out of the tent until he dunked himself in the river or something. No way was Asmo sleeping next to that. 😤

Asmo took the second-longest to get up and get ready in the morning. Sometimes he wouldn’t even leave the tent until well past breakfast just in an attempt to salvage his hair and skin… He only got grouchier about it as the trip went on… 😥

A more… earthy looking Asmo is kind of a bizarre sight. He’s still attractive, no doubt, but it’s less like polished glamour and more like Hollywood humble. He spent the majority of the trip looking like a somewhat dirtied movie-star (which he still insisted was the worst he’s ever looked in ages).

Aside from salvaging his looks, he actually enjoyed taking pictures of their surroundings or of the group (but not himself). He sometimes forgot how genuinely breathtaking the human world could be…

….but his patience for the place wore out quickly once he started noticing his hair getting greasy. He was right next to Levi, packing up the site once it was finally time to leave. At least those two finally found something they could agree on, let’s get the fuck out already! 

Beelzebub

He was really curious about trying camping food and pretty excited that Barbatos was coming, too (because that meant great food in general).

Unfortunately, Lucifer had to stop the van at basically every gas station they passed for Beel could refill on snacks… Belphie ended up getting buried in wrappers pretty often, but he was asleep, so it didn’t matter much.

Beel did a lot of the heavy lifting when setting the camp up, but the finer details were left up to everybody else. He had his hands full getting stuff off the cars as is…

Of course, he shared a tent with Belphie, and there wasn’t much complaint between them. Honestly, there would have been more drama if they were split, so this was the better option.

After the MC told Beel about fishing and how it could net him more food, if he did it right, he knew exactly what he wanted to do during the trip.

… But no one told him how long and slow the process would be. There were points he’d get so hungry he’d consider eating the bait himself…

That was until about Day Three of the trip when they passed by a river full of grizzly bears… He was about to ask the MC why the bears were all standing in the water, but then he saw a fish practically leap directly into one’s mouth…

Beel had discovered his true calling.

Of course, the grizzlies didn’t take too kindly to a demon suddenly sprinting into the water with them. They tried to fight him off, but Beel just tossed most of them downstream without any issue until they realized who the apex predator really was…

After forming a shaky truce with the bears, Beel would stand in the water for hours then come back with whole baskets full of salmon… There were far more fish than Barbatos knew what to do with, so he’d just confiscate a few then let Beel eat the rest...

The MC shuddered to think about what Beel had done to the local salmon population… But he was full and happy for most of the trip, so he had a great time!

Belphegor

Sleep for him isn’t too contingent on location, so the idea of camping wasn’t terrible. It did sound like a lot of hassle for no good reason, though…

He spent the entire car ride asleep, head and cow pillow pressed up against the window and everything. It wasn’t the most comfortable experience, but he’d dealt with worse.

He was utterly useless when putting up the camp by choice, thank you. He had more than enough sense to get things put together; he just didn’t want to. If he wasn’t asked to do something by Beel or the MC, he’d just lay back in the grass and smugly watch everybody else struggle…

Again, he and Beel are in the same tent, and you wouldn’t hear any complaints out of him. He did start to have some second thoughts when Beel began getting a fishy smell, though, so he tried to bunk with the MC in their tent for a while.

Like Levi, Belphie didn’t leave the tent much during the daylight hours, but that was because he was still asleep… There was no good way to wake him with no alarms available, so he’d sleep in past lunch easily.

When he was awake, he didn’t leave camp very much except to walk with the MC or watch Beel fishing grizzly-style.

Eventually, Asmo and Diavolo got sick of him dodging their photos, so they’d started posing him Weekend at Bernie’s style around the camp (always conveniently propped up by something and with sunglasses on)

Something Belphie did like, however, was the nighttime. Since there were no lights around, he could practically see everything the sky had to offer. He could spend hours laying on his back long after everyone else had gone to bed just admiring the stars.

All in all, not a terrible trip. Anything that could give him that view like that was well worth it. 6/10, would sleep again.

Click HERE for Part Two. Check out my Masterlist for more!

[enthusiasticharry]

Swan Lake

summary: you've recently audition to be the White Swan in the Royal Ballet’s next production, only to learn that the new choreographer, Harry, will make this experience a lot more thrilling. 

author’s note: hiya! sorry the has taken so long but I've been busy with classes and only just had time to sit down and write this. this has been an idea of mine since i first saw harry’s snl promo when he was in the tutu and i'm glad i can finally share it!

word count: 10.6k words of smut, fluff and me trying to sound like i have a clue what i’m on about whilst describing ballet moves (i'm no ballerina, just a pre-warning) 

masterlist    |    asks

Even from being a small child, it had been your dream to become a dancer. You had originally gotten into dancing when you were very little, watching the different dancing programmes on the TV. You can remember like it was yesterday, the day you first watched the Royal Ballets performance of Swan Lake. You were around six, and you remember your mother flicking through the TV guide and seeing it and deciding to put it on, much to your detest at the start. But, you found yourself mesmerised as you watched the dancers flitter across the screen with such elegance and grace that you knew straight away that in the future you wanted to embody. It wasn’t the easiest occupation to get into, and it was very draining upon your body. But you loved it, and you were always going to — until you physically couldn’t anymore.

“Have you heard about the new choreographer?” Ethel, your friend asks as you walk towards the academy. You shake your head, “Apparently he’s very fit.”

“But he’s a choreographer.” You curl your nose up, “No choreographers are ever fit. They’re all old and hate the world.”

Ethel shakes her head, “This one is. He’s not too older than us either, but apparently he’s one of best Ballerino’s to ever walk out of the Royal Ballet School.”

“That’s a bold statement.” You say, pulling your bag tighter on your shoulder, “What is he choreographing?”

“The solos, I think.” Ethel adds, holding the door open as you both walk through, “He’s taking over Vernon.”

“Thank god.” You sigh, letting the door close behind you, “He was a horrible man.”

“He was.” Ethel laughs, “At least he’s someone new. We haven’t had a new choreographer in a year.”

A year ago, you and Ethel had graduated from the Royal Ballet school in London and you immediately joined the Royal Ballet. After auditions upon auditions you both had made it to the shortlist and then even made it through to the corps de ballet and were preparing for the audition for Swan Lake. You were positive that you wouldn’t get in, but you were also positive that you wouldn’t get into the school, never mind to the actual Royal Ballet.

Even though you felt like you had made it in life, you certainly hadn’t just yet. Today, you were auditioning to dance as White Swan. It was the next step into completing your dream completely. You were nervous to say the least, and you don’t think you’ve ever practiced something so much in your life.

“Are you ready for this?” Ethel asks as you walk into the back room, where there were quite a few other people who were obviously auditioning for other solos within the ballet.

You sigh, sitting down on the floor and starting to tie your pointe shoes, “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

“You’ll smash it.” She smiles.

“I certainly hoped so.”

You were third to go, which wasn’t too bad. You certainly didn’t want to go first but you didn’t want to go last either. You were nervous, but you felt as though you dealt with it well and floated across the dance floor. You hated to say it, but you did find yourself being distracted quite a bit by the new man in the room, sat at the end of the table with a notebook and pen, watching intently as you dance and making certain notes. None of the choreographers made any hints that you were doing anything good, or not so good for that matter.

“Thank you.” The man said, his voice as soft as silk, “We’ll get to you shortly.”

A week later you were making your way to the notice board, where the solo and cast list were being posted. Ethel was in a rehearsal, so she wasn’t able to come with you and you found yourself being even more nervous due to being on your own.

You hung back and watched as other people rushed towards the list. You had just finished a pointe class, and your muscles were aching and you didn’t feel quite like making a huge scene trying to see the list. You watched as some people had very happy faces, and other had quite disappointed ones.

The group had dispersed quite a while ago, but you still found yourself stood in the corner. You had even started to pretend to scroll through your phone to distract yourself from actually going up to look at what it says on the sheet.

“I don’t think you can see the list from back here.”

You eyes flick up to the voice that startled you from your scroll. The man, who you had since the audition had learnt was called Harry Styles, stood across from you with one corner of his lips curled up.

“I was, uh.” You tuck a piece of your hair behind your ear, “I was psyching myself up to look.”

“I’d go look if I was you.”

You nod your head and walk up the sheet, flicking your eyes down until your saw ‘White Swan’. What surprised you even more was the sight of your name in the column next to it. You eyes widen and you turn to look at Harry, who’s stood leant against the wall next to you. He smiles at you, nodding your head as you look at him with a confused look upon your face.

“Me?”

“Yes.” He nods, “You.”

“I got it?” You’re in complete shock, “Me?”

“You did. You earned it. You have one of the best form’s I’ve ever seen in my life. It was an unanimous decision, and you were the certain choice.”

“Wow.” You smile, “Thank you.”

“It’s really no problem.” You watch as he turns slightly to walk away, “Don’t let us down, though.”

You really hoped you wouldn’t. You hadn’t worked harder for something in your entire life, and he was mistaken if he thought it would be the same for this. It was your dream, plain and simple. It was hard to have a dream that lasted only the first thirty years or so of your life. If you were only going to get a limited amount of time to do this, you were going to make the most of it and you had made your first step by doing this.

“I won’t.” You nod your head, “I promise.”

“Good.” And with that, he’s gone.

The first day of rehearsals came quicker than you expected, but you had spent every minute of every day thinking about this day. Ethel had landed a role in the corps de ballet which she was proud of, and you were proud of her for doing so too. It meant that you both were going to be in the performance and go to all the main rehearsals for the group dances. Ethel wouldn’t have to come to the solo rehearsals, which was understandable, but at least you still had the time together now.

“Have I told you how much I really love that leotard?” She says as you shrug your coat off, revealing your black leotard which you’ve paired with a blush pink jumper that falls off your shoulder to match your pointe shoes.

“It’s just a simple black leotard.” You shrug, “It’s nothing special. I think I got it on sale.”

“You style it well, though.”

You sit on the bench and lift your feet up, slipping your toes into your pointe shoes. They weren’t comfortable, that’s a given, but you were used to it by now. You went to your first ballet class at seven years old, and you were now twenty-three. Sixteen years of wearing these shoes frequently meant that your feet had gotten very used to feeling.

“Thank you, Ethel.” You smile, grabbing your water bottle and following her as she walks out of the door and towards the training room.

“Do you think Harry will be here?” She asks, tucking some of her hair behind her ear.

You shrug, “I don’t know. Possibly. He does solos so he isn’t technically required to be here.”

“He does. It’s the first rehearsal, though. He may want to at least show his face to the rest of us.”

You laugh, “You just want to see his face, Ethel.”

“Maybe I do.” She doesn’t even hide the blush on her cheeks.

In the training room, groups of dancers stand together either stretching or talking. It’s important to stretch and warm up before anything you do, so you and Ethel find a spare spot by the bar and start to stretch your muscles. You stretch every morning quite intensely, warming your muscles up for the day just because you know that you won’t get a lot of time to do so when you arrive at rehearsals and they even ask you to do so before you come so it works better. It’s nice to just refresh your muscles when you arrive, though.

“Can I have everyone’s attention?” Holland, the main choreographer says as her and a few other people walk into the room, “Welcome all to this years production of Swan Lake.”

A chorus of claps circle around the room, smiles all around as everyone congratulates each other on getting a part. It was very hard to get into productions like these, so you weren’t surprised that you were around the best of the best.

“I’m Holland, I’m pretty sure all of you know me but I’d like to introduce you all to the rest of the team.” She motions to the people behind her, “Isabella is in charge of Pas de deux this year and Harry is in charge of Solo’s, more specifically the Black and White swan’s solos.”

You immediately feel your heats cheek up, knowing that you and whoever is playing the Black swan will be spending time with him. You couldn’t lie and say that he wasn’t a handsome man, because he certainly was, but he was your choreographer and he spoke to you in a tone the other day that you couldn’t quite pinpoint but you knew that you weren’t too keen of.

“Today we’re taking it easy, and just introducing some of the group dances. Can both the White and Black swans see Harry, please?”

You freeze with your eyes upon the floor, not wanting to look up.

“That’s you.” Ethel nudges your shoulders.

You nod and stand up, walking towards the corner of the room where Harry stands as well as another girl who you know is called Frances, from being in a few of your classes during school. You smile as you walk over, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. Behind you, everyones already stood and following what Holland is saying.

“Hope you don’t mind.” He smiles, “But I just want to discuss some things with the two of you before proper rehearsals start.”

You both follow him out of the large training room into one of the smaller practice rooms that people can you use whenever they want. You find yourself lagging behind as you walk, the feeling of nerves bubbling within you. You have had one solo before in your life, but it certainly wasn’t as important as this one, and you felt yourself getting more and more worried with every second.

“It’s important that the two of you know that I’m your main choreographer, but also that you’re in the group sessions when they’re on.” You both nod, “There aren’t a lot, because even in the group dances you have a lot of solos so you are with me a lot more than in there.”

“That’s why we got these parts though, right?” Frances says, a smile across her lips that you can just tell isn’t a sweet one.

“Not really.” He tilts his head to the side, “You got these parts because we think that you’re able to make the role yours and work hard for it. We can take it away just as easy as we’ve given them you.”

You nod your head and Frances does too, but there’s a little huff that escapes her lips as she does so.

“Our rehearsals start tomorrow, with the White swan, and they’re all going to be in this room.” You nod, but you don’t take any notice of what Fran does, but you guess she nods too, “Just so you know, I don’t appreciate lateness or laziness whilst in the rehearsal.”

“Understood.” You smile, tucking a piece of your hair behind your head.

“Good.” He nods, “You can both return to the main group.”

The next day you find yourself walking into the studio ten minutes before the rehearsal is set to start. The door is open when you walk in, but no one is in which your thankful for. You place your bag down in the corner and start to put your pointe shoes on.

“Morning.” You jump out of your skin at the sound of Harry’s voice walking into the room, “Didn’t mean to make jump.”

“It’s okay.” You chuckle, “I was in my own world and wasn’t paying attention.

He smiles and drops his bag in the corner next to yours. He walks closer to where you’re stood and leans against the bar.

“Have you stretched?” He asks, shrugging off his hoodie. You try not to stare at his physique, but it’s hard not to. Especially when you notice the tattoos that you can see across his arms and his check and stomach underneath the white wife-beater he had on. He also had one some joggers, but you knew it wouldn’t make the best first impression if you continued to stare at him.

“Before I left.” You say, “Not since I got here.”

“We can stretch together.” He says, “Do you use the bar.”

You nod and stand up, smoothing down the wispy bits of your hair that had escaped your bun. You pull your jumper up on your shoulder also, due to the material slipping off everyone once in a while. Your eyes drift to watch as he starts to stretch, using the bar to stretch his peculiarly long limbs. Average male ballet dancers that you’d met in your life hadn’t been as tall as he was, but he had a sort of elegance to him even when he was only stretching that his long limbs only extenuated.

“Have you been dancing long?” You certainly hadn’t expected him to be making small talk with you, but here he was.

You nod, “Since I was seven. Have you?”

“I was ten.” He says and your eyes widen, “I was quite late, to be honest.”

That was quite late, you had to agree with him. Most ballet dancers that you met within your life started even earlier than you, and a lot of them were surprised that you’d started so late but were so successful. Talent comes in any shape or form, and even though he did start quite late, if he was as talented as people made him out to be, then you weren’t surprised that he was as successful as he was starting quite late.

“Did you dance before then?”

“I did.” He nods, “I did tap for a few years before I decided that it wasn’t for me, and then I started ballet lessons.”

You smile and continue to stretch, lifting your leg up to the bar to stretch as far as you can. You can feel your muscles starting to relax as you do so, and you know you’re warmed up.

“Are you ready?” You nod and make your way to stand behind him, at the side slightly so you could see both yourself and Harry in the mirror. You were nervous, to say the least, but you had a slight suspicion that Harry was going to try and make you feel as comfortable as possible.

“We’re going to take it easy.” He says, “Well, as easy as it can be with this show.”

You chuckle and watch as he starts to teach you your solo. You wondered how many times he’d watched the previous performances of the ballet to know the solo as well as he did. You got through the first quarter of the dance or so. It was very quick, and it was basically going through al of the steps and seeing where you needed to focus your practice.

By the end of the rehearsal, you were sweating and you knew that you didn’t look the best just from looking at yourself in the mirror. The dance was one of the hardest you’ve ever done in your life but you knew that was how it was going to be. It was intense, and Harry was certainly right when he said that he knew you’d be able to do it but you needed to put in the hard work. One of the hardest things you found yourself having to do was stopping yourself from getting distracted at the sight of him.

Every time he moved, the muscles within his arms contracted. You didn’t want to stare at him, but you physically couldn’t stop yourself. You wondered if he could tell, or if he was staring at you. More than once during the rehearsal your jumper slipped from your shoulder, dangerously close to revealing your chest and you swear that you saw his eyes drifting at some points but you would never say anything.

“You’ve done well.” He nods, taking a quite a large gulp of water from his bottle, “I knew there was a reason why we’d chosen you, and that certainly was it” 

“There are plenty of other dancers that will have been just as good, maybe even better, I’m sure.” You say, placing your hands upon your hips as you try to catch your breath from the jeté’s you had just been doing.

He chuckles, walking over to you and placing his hand on your shoulder, “Have a little more faith in yourself. Not many people will be able to do what you’ve just done.”

You hate to say it, but you do feel fuzzy inside at his words. Flutters fill your belly and you can feel your cheeks heat up. He can see it as well, you’re absolutely sure of it and you nearly faint. The feeling of his fingers upon your skin leaves it heated for quite a while, long after he’d taken his hand off, and way after you’d left the room.

He was your new choreographer, but you couldn’t help but feel as this was the start of something else.

You had been in the practice room for an hour or so.

The group rehearsal had finished an hour ago, and you had planned to go into a practice room to spend a little extra time going over the new moves that Harry had added a day ago at their second rehearsal. The new steps weren’t too bad, but the order they fell in you just couldn’t pick up. You practiced it over and over again but you still couldn’t get it right. You found yourself becoming more and more annoyed with yourself that you couldn’t do it.

You started to do it again, starting with the jeté before moving to the pirouette but you found yourself loosing your balance yet again.

“You need to keep your core straight.”

You jump out of your skin, placing your hand upon your chest as you turn to look at the culprit. It’s Harry, and you aren’t surprised to say the least. He has a tendency of jumping out at you when you least expect it.

“You should wear a bell.” You say, standing up and and walking towards his body, which is leant against the wall with his hands in his pockets. He was wearing actual trousers today, and you were wondering if that’s why he wasn’t in the group rehearsal earlier.

“I’ll announce myself next time, I promise.” He laughs, walking towards you. His shoes tap upon the floor as he moves towards you, “Your movements aren’t flowing because your core isn’t strong, and you’re letting your body go dizzy.”

He walks towards you, holding his hands out before retracting them.

“Is it okay if I touch you?” He asks, and you nod, allowing his hands to fall one upon your back and the other upon your stomach. He pushes your stomach in, straightening your back as he does so. You find yourself struggling to breath slightly, but once you do you catch up quickly, “Try again like this.”

“Okay.”

You stay as upright as you can, keeping your core straight as you move. Somehow, you manage to do the sequence without falling over. You sigh in relief and drop down to the floor once you’ve done it. He stands and nods his head, watching as you take a sip of your water.

“See.” He nods his head, “I knew you could do it.”

“Thank you.” You smile, “I knew I could too, I think I was just becoming lazy because I’m tired.”

“You shouldn’t be so hard on yourself. Go home, take a break.” You start to unfasten your pointe shoes, sighing in relief as your toes separate after being in the shoes for way too long, “How long have you been in here?”

“An hour or so.” You shake your head, “I just wanted to get it right.”

“I bet it was right before.” He says, opening the door for you to slip through once you’ve put your proper shoes on and gathered your things, “Your body is just tired, that’s why your form was off. You usually have a great core.”

He had been looking at your. . . core? You felt your cheeks heat up, and you tired your hardest to not to let him see it but it was quite hard under the spotlights of the hallway.

“Thank you, but it really wasn’t. That was the first time I’ve done it properly.”

He turns to you with a grin, “We’ll just to have to agree to disagree, won’t we?”

You can’t stop the blush that rises upon your cheeks at his words, but more so at his grin. It’s cheeky and boyish and sort of flirty. He couldn’t have been flirting with you, but a part of you prayed that he was.

“Have a good night.” He smiles at you, “Sleep and don’t worry about the dance.” 

“I’ll try.”

“One. . . two. . . three. . . four—”

His counting has been ringing through your ears since your arrived at the rehearsal an hour ago. You couldn’t tell whether there was something wrong with him, or whether you had done something wrong for him to be in such a mood.

You had managed to ignore the fact that he completely ignored you once you’d walked in, and focused more on showing him that since you last saw him, you had mastered the sequence you were struggling with completely.

Everyone has bad days, you knew that, but it’s hard to learn a dance when your teacher is so stoic that you can’t tell whether or not you’re doing the moves right. His eyebrows have been furrowed since you walked through the door, and the clicks of his fingers were so loud that you can’t help but wonder whether or not they have blistered.

You manage to perform the sequence of steps, from start to about half way which you’ve managed to learn in the two weeks that you’ve been learning the steps. It’s nice to know that you’re able to do it, no matter how much you’ve struggled and that it’s been hard work, you’ve done it.

“We’re moving onto the pirouettes next.” He says, standing with his hands upon his hips as he does so. The harsh look upon his face doesn’t leave, and you truly wonder what had happened for him to be this way with you.

It’s making you feel as though every step you make isn’t right, when you know in fact that it is.

“The what?” You are struggling to catch your breath, after non-stop dancing for an hour can’t believe that he wants to do the pirouettes with you.

“Pirouettes.” He stands facing you, instead of you looking at him through the mirror and you wonder what you’re going to do, “Do as many as you can until the music drops.”

You weren’t quite sure what he was asking of you. You furrow your eyebrows, but Harry just stares at you. He looks at you as if to say why aren’t you doing it yet, so you decide you’re better off just starting the pirouettes.

You start, lifting your body into fourth position with both legs straight. You fix your eyes onto a spot where the mirrors meet. After taking a breath, you bend both legs into a deep pilé, concentrating on sinking your heels into the wooden floor so you could push into the spin. You focus your core, keeping it tight. You spring to a retiré position, before relevé to a full pointe with your back foot to your front leg. You hold your body in the position spin, flicking your head quickly so that you can focus yet again on the gap in the mirror. Once you’ve completed one, you continue to go round and round, trying to ignore the aching within your bones and the throbbing within your head.

You manage eight before you loose your balance and drop to the ground, immediately sitting with your head in between your legs. 

“Have a break, and then we’ll start again.” 

You sigh and shake your head, “I can’t do it.” 

“What do you mean?” Harry says, furrowing his eyebrows, “Of course you can.” 

“I can’t do it.” 

“You’ve done eight.” He shrugs, “You can do more.” 

“I’ll be able to.” You say, “But I can’t do them now.” 

If you honest, you hadn’t woken up feeling the best this morning. You often get headaches that throughout the course of the day transition into migraines. You had felt it coming on at the start of the day, and you knew with how much you had to do you couldn’t pull out of the rehearsal but at this point you were seriously considering it. The pirouettes seriously hadn’t helped with the throbbing within your head and you had started to feel quite nauseous. 

“If you have that attitude then you certainly won’t be able to, and it’s probably best that you leave.” 

You’re completely taken aback, unable to believe that the man who has been nothing but nice to you throughout this whole thing had just said something so horrid to you. You were mortified and if you hadn’t felt sick before, you certainly did now. 

“You know what.” You stand up, “I think that’s a good idea.” 

You leave the room and don’t look back. 

The next rehearsal, thankfully, was a group one. You and Ethel had made your way to the training room bright and early, ready for what the day was going to hold. You hadn’t told Ethel about what happened earlier in the week with Harry. It would have been nice to talk to someone about it but you knew that you shouldn’t, so you didn’t. It was, however, the thing that fluttered around in your brain on a loop. Doing everyday mundane things you found yourself distracted. Instead of being upset or angry anymore, you were concerned, and you just hoped that he was okay mainly. 

The two of you had stretched yourselves pretty quickly, leaving you stood in the right corner of the room waiting for it to start. You couldn’t help but wonder whether or not Harry was going to be in the rehearsal today. He normally was, but after the last one, you had no idea what was going to happen. A part of you wished to see him, and the other part of you didn’t. It was as though you had a devil and angel on your shoulder, bickering between the options of whether or not you wanted to see his face. 

In the back of your mind you knew that this man was your choreographer. You knew that traditionally that you shouldn’t be feeling this way about him, since he had the same role as a teacher would, but you really couldn’t help it. It didn’t help that he was one of the prettiest people you had ever seen in your life — and one of the nicest apart from the last time you saw him — but the was besides the point. You were an adult, and you were allowed to have these feelings, even though you were positively sure that they aren’t reciprocated. 

Both Holland and Isabella walk into the room, but there is no sign of Harry. You try to ignore the disappointment that sits in the pit of your stomach but you can’t. 

You should be angry at the man, livid even, that he said such a thing to you but you really weren’t. That was your own fault, but that didn’t mean that all would be forgotten from that day. You were at least expecting an apology the next time you saw him. 

“Everyone get into positions for the start of the second half.” Holland calls and everyone moves from their groups into positions. 

You weren’t on the stage at the start, so you move to the corner of the room by the door and watch everyone else. You try your hardest not to let your mind wander, but you can’t help it. Your thumb is running back and forth over your bottom lip, furrowing your eyebrows as you did so. 

“If you furrow your eyebrows anymore your face is going to stay like that.” 

You don’t even jump at the sound of his voice. Your heart does start to beat a little faster, since your certainly weren’t expecting him to be so close to you, but you wouldn’t tell anybody that. 

“Was starting to think you just hated me.” 

“Could never hate you.” He shakes his head, “You’re too good of a dancer for me to ever hate you.” 

You have to physically stop yourself from rolling your eyes at him. You manage to, but before either one of you could say anything else, you see your cue and you’re out on the floor. 

You try to ignore his stare as you move around the room, remembering the choreography you had learnt whilst also trying to be as elegant and strong as you physically could be. You remembered to keep your core straight, and if you weren’t mistaken by the few times you looked over at him, Harry’s eyes hadn’t left you.

You were unsure whether it was something your were flattered about, or whether you were slightly concerned about it. You weren’t too concerned, but you found yourself wondering why he was doing this. The last time he saw you he told you to leave, and now he couldn’t get his eyes off of you. 

Once the dance had finished, and you had your lips around your water bottle that you were taking a sip from, you swear you saw Harry’s head flick towards the door. You furrow your eyebrows and lift you finger up, pointing at yourself as if to ask whether he was looking at you. 

He nods his head and walks out of the door, leaving you confused but walking towards him and consequently out of the room. You bite the lid of your bottle as you do so. You knew exactly where he was, and the second you walked into the room you saw him stood in the middle of it with an almost defeated look upon his face. 

“I’m sorry.” 

You swear your heart almost bursts out of your chest. 

You nod your head, “Okay.” 

“I was a dick.” You nod again, “And you didn’t deserve it at all. I shouldn’t have asked you to leave and I should’ve asked if you were okay the second you dropped to the floor. I’m sorry, I really am.” 

“I accept your apology, I do.” He seems to sigh with relief, “But! You have to be extra nice to me next rehearsal. If I want a break, I want a break.” 

He chuckles, “You can have as many breaks as you like.” 

“Good.” 

To say rehearsals have been different since Harry apologised to you would be an understatement. You found yourself enjoying them, no matter how hard you had to work, and you looked forward to them in your week.

You believe it might have been because of the change in relationship between the two of you. It was much nicer, and also a little flirtier. You had noticed Harry coming over to help you by touching you more, he was forever smirking and winking at you and some of the things he said completely turned you to putty in his arms. 

You’d like to think he’d noticed, but you really couldn’t be sure. 

“Dress rehearsals start next week.” He says as you take a break, sipping on some water whilst holding a banana in your other hand, “Are you nervous?”

You shrug, “A little bit. I know I’ve worked hard but there are still a lot of things that could go wrong.” 

“I disagree.” You throw him a quizzical look, “I agree that you work hard because you’re one of the most hardworking people I’ve ever met. I don’t agree that a lot of things could go wrong because that just isn’t true — one thing could.” 

You knew what he was talking about. 

You drop back so you’re laid on the group, “The pirouettes.” 

“The pirouettes.” He nods and stands up, so you sit up, “I know you can do it, you just need to believe in yourself.” 

You sigh, “Can you just do the pirouettes for me?” 

“Yeah.” He laughs, “Like the audience wouldn’t notice you slipping off and a six-foot man taking your place to do some spins.” 

“I’m sure they’d be highly entertained.” 

“I’m sure we’d have thousands of complaints to deal with.” 

You laugh and he joins in. You finish your banana and stand up, tucking some of the hair that had fallen out of your bun back before moving to the middle of the room. 

“I don’t think I’ll be able to do it.” 

“I do.” Harry nods, crossing his arms over his chest, “Focus on your spot and never take your eyes off it, remember your core and remember to bounce yourself. The higher bounce you get at the start, the more you’ll be able to spin.” 

You’re unsure how it happened, but after listening to Harry’s words you manage to complete almost twenty pirouettes. The most that had taken place during the small amount of time in a performance had been thirty-two, and to say that you’d never done more than ten in your life before meant that you were pretty proud of yourself. 

“See.” He says smugly, “I knew you could do it.” 

You watch as he walks towards you, shoving this hand into the pocket of his jogging bottoms. You weren’t one to necessarily like people who are so in-your-face smug but there was something different about the way Harry said things. He didn’t say them maliciously, or to make himself feel better but to just tease you slightly. He was close to you, and you resisted the urge to let out a little squeak of nervousness. 

“Are you going to start believing in yourself?” 

“Hmm.” You ponder, “I might have to be reminded again, and again.” 

It all happened quickly, but before you could process anything happening, Harry’s lips were on yours. 

He kissed you. You felt his lips upon yours, his hand immediately reaching to rest upon her cheek. The nervous squeak you held in escaped your lips as he did so, but he masked it with him. You gripped the material of his wife-beater, bunching it up at his stomach as you pulled him towards you. Your lips parted once you’d felt his tongue dance upon your lips, allowing it to slip through them. You were shocked, but you never wanted it to end. 

It did end though, like all good things do. He pulled away from you and you felt even more out of breath than if you had just performed your solo. You looked at him with wide eyes and lifted your fingers to run over your swollen lips, 

“Did that remind you?” 

Dress rehearsals had started, but all you could find yourself thinking about was Harry’s lips on yours. 

You stood backstage at the Royal Opera House, looking at yourself within the mirror as you ran your hand over your costume. It was white, and completely gorgeous. The tutu fluttered out gems and sparkles fluttered along the bodice with a hugged your curves perfectly. You had the head piece on as well, but you hadn’t done your makeup. It was the first time you’d seen the costume upon your body, and you were in love with it. 

“You proper look like the white swan now.” Ethel smiles, placing her hand upon your shoulder, squeezing slightly, “You look gorgeous.” 

“Thank you.” You turn to look at her, and the costume she had on and you gasp, “And look at you!  Absolutely beautiful!” 

The two of you giggle and walk towards the main stage where everyone was collected. You stood to the side with Ethel, even though she’s quickly scooped away by some of her friends. You stand and done move, going over the moves of your solo in your head just to make sure you knew what you were doing. 

Holland calls you all to start soon. It wasn’t the first time that you’d ran the performance all the way through, but it was the first time that you’d done it in your costume. 

You manage to make it through the first half of the performance without any malfunctions from yourself, but you can’t say the same for everyone else. It was around half way through the third section of dance or so when you noticed Harry sat on the front row, his eyes never leaving you as you dance around the stage. When your first section of solo dance came up, you saw Harry’s eyes furrowing as you danced. You couldn’t watch him throughout the entire thing, but you wouldn’t be surprised if he never looked away from you. 

During the interval, you go backstage and make your way towards a bathroom. As you make your way closer, you try to find the fasten of your tutu so that you can quickly pull it off. What you hadn’t expected as you down the hall and towards the bathroom was to be pulled into one of the rooms you pass.

You squeal as you feel the hand around your arm, but once you’re in the room, you’re silenced by someone’s lips upon yours. 

You can tell that it’s Harry immediately. You can tell not only from his lips upon yours, but also from his hand that he places upon your cheek. You feel the coolness of his ring, and the slight itch from his stubble, but you really aren’t complaining. You lift your hand to the back of his neck, slipping your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. 

His fingers run across your thighs, being light so that he doesn’t rip the thin material. After a minute or so, you pull away, turning your head so that his drops upon your shoulder whilst you catch you breath.” 

“Harry?” He hums against your neck, placing a small kiss there, “I really need a wee.” 

He laughs and stands up, pecking your lips once more. You smile into the kiss and it seems to only grow afterwards. 

“Well you better go and have one.” He chuckles and you nod, “But I’ll only let you go if your promise me something.” 

“What?” 

“You’ll wait for me afterwards?” 

“After what? My wee, because I have to back on stage after—”

“No.” He chuckles, “Not after you’ve had your wee, but after you’ve finished tonight. I want to take you somewhere.” 

“Sounding very stalker-ish of you, Styles.” She furrows her eyebrows, “But I’ll wait for you.” 

The second half, and your solo goes okay. You managed to do sixteen pirouettes but your brain was in overdrive, thinking of everywhere that Harry could be taking you. Once you all finished, you couldn’t help but rush to get changed and ready to leave. You hadn’t borough the nicest of clothes, only some jeans and a jumper since the air had started to get quite a lot cooler now that autumn had shown its face. 

“You ready?” He asks once you’ve walked out of the theatre and find him stood by the wall next to the door. 

You nod and follow him. The two of you don’t talk, but his hand does slip into yours as you walk. He’s very smooth in the way that he does it, slipping his hand into yours as you walked across the busy London road. Your cheeks heated as he did so, and you couldn’t help the small smile that planted across your lips. 

You knew that you shouldn’t feel this way about someone who was like a teacher for you, and you knew at some point that the two of you would have to speak about what this even was but at this point you were just happy. 

You certainly hadn’t expected to end up at a cinema, but here you were. Harry scanned the two tickets he already conveniently already had. The tickets were halfway up in the cinema, where you normally enjoyed sitting but you certainly had never told Harry this. 

“If you wanted to see a movie with me, you should’ve just asked.” You whisper to Harry as you both sit down, “You didn’t have to basically kidnap me into a storage room and shove your tongue down my throat.” 

“I didn’t hear you complaining about my tongue down your throat.” He says, and you can almost hear the smirk upon his lips, “Just watch, you’ll understand why I brought you here in a second.” 

You did understand. The recording was from 2015, one that you hadn’t seem before which was surprising because you’re absolutely certain that you’d watched the majority of them. You wonder if this was one that you hadn’t been able to find before, to nitpick every single movement that the white swan made. 

Harry’s hand sat tightly in yours as you watched, never moving throughout the entire performance. 

Once it had finished, you found yourself sat in an Italian restaurant that was next to the cinema, the both of you having ordered pasta and having large glasses of red wine to wash it down. 

“Why did you bring me to see that?” 

Harry smiles, placing his glass down that he had just taken a sip from, “It’s my favourite performance, so far, of Swan Lake. I didn’t know whether you’d already seen it, and you’re probably fed up of it but I thought you needed to see it.” 

You shake your head, “I hadn’t seen it.” 

“You remind me of her.” He smiles, “Giovanna, who was the White Swan. She was a few years older than me, and I met her getting lost in the school.” 

“You knew her?” 

He nods, “We were best friends, for a few years, and she taught me everything I know about how to be the best ballerino I could be. I was there when she was got the part, and I used to watch her practice.” 

“That’s how you know the solo so well.” 

He nods, “She believed she couldn’t do it. I can’t count the amount of times she said that she couldn’t do it. She hardly slept because of it. They recorded that opening night, and it took me sitting her down and showing her that for her to believe that she could do it.” 

He’s interrupted by the waitress coming with their pasta, which they smile in thanks at. 

“Thank you.” He nods his head at the waitress, “I’m more involved with you as the White Swan, and I swore to never let anyone who I worked with whether it be on this production or not, feel like Giovanna did.” 

“How could you tell?” 

“You always look as though you’re battling with yourself within your head.” He says, “You need to know that when you’re on that stage, and it’ll be even more like this when you believe yourself, you are elegant and you look absolutely beautiful.” 

If you weren’t in public, and if you didn’t have a mouthful of tomato pasta in your mouth, you probably would’ve cried at his words. You couldn’t believe how much this man actually cared about you and how you were doing. 

“Are you still friends with her?” 

“No.” He shakes his head, “She left a few years ago, didn’t tell me where she was going or why she was doing it. I haven’t heard from her since.” 

You drop your head, “I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be.” He shakes his head, “You’re the new swan in my life, and between the two of us, I much prefer you.” 

“Do you think people are going to mind?” You ask, moving your pasta around on your plate, not daring to look up at him, “You’re like my teacher, and we don’t exactly have one of the more conventional relationships.” 

“I don’t care.” He shakes his head, “And you shouldn’t either, swan.” 

The day of the first performance was here, and you were absolutely dreading it. 

“Ethel.” You shake your head, “I really can’t do this.” 

“Oh shut up.” She places her hands upon your shoulders as you look at yourself in the mirror, sighing as you made sure your wispy pieces of your hair were down, “You’re going to be fine. You’re only worried about the pirouettes and you managed twenty-two yesterday.” 

“It’s not thirty-two though.” You shake your head, “It isn’t good enough.” 

Yesterday it was your last run through of the solo with Harry in the practice room. Even though the relationship between the two had shifted dramatically since their first rehearsal, and yesterday it almost felt as though you were back in with that Harry. 

The flirty banter that the two had adopted wasn’t there, and you were both focused on getting it right. It was the first time that you had managed to do more than twenty pirouettes, which had been your best, but it was now twenty-two. You had sighed in relief and finished your solo dance with a smile upon your face. 

“You’ll be fine.” Ethel smiles, “You’ve got nothing to worry about, you’ll go out there and smash it. I have to go and do my makeup, but I’ll see you during the interval — I promise.” 

You nod, accept her hug and sigh yet again at yourself in the mirror. You hadn’t felt this nervous in a long time, not even when you auditioned for the ballet school, or even when you auditioned for the part of the white swan. In every other aspect of your life, you were confident. In your dancing, that’s when you found yourself spiralling in the most. 

“Hey white swan.” You can’t help but smile at the sound of Harry’s voice behind you, your body immediately turning around to look at him. 

You don’t want to seem shocked, but the sight of him all dressed up causes your heart to beat quickly within your chest. You hadn’t seen him dressed up in this way before, a blue button up upon his body, as well as yellow trousers and a grey jacket. His hair framed his face in such a way that you couldn’t help but press your thighs together. You very much liked Harry’s practice outfits that show off his strong body, but there was something else about seeing him dressed in such a way that you liked even more. 

“Hi.” You laugh, standing up to wrap your arms around him. It’s an awkward hug, with the two of you trying to navigate your way around your tutu, “You look fancy.” 

“And you look gorgeous.” He pulled away from you and leant back against the wall, whilst you leant against the chair you were just sat on, “Ethel saw me on the way in.” 

You laugh, “What did she say?” 

“That you’re spiralling again.” He laughs, “I thought we’d spoken about this.” 

“I know.” You nod your head, “I’m just scared about the pir—”

“—If you dare say pirouettes!” 

You laugh as he interrupts your words, “I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be.” He shakes his head, “You know that you can do it, and I believe in you. You’re going to smash this and I’m going to be front row cheering your on.” 

Without a single hesitation, you cast your eyes around the room in hopes to see nobody there, which there isn’t, and you throw your arms around his neck and place your lips upon his. He smiles into the kiss, and you do too, but you quickly pull away because you know that anybody could walk in at any moment. 

Harry flutters his eyes over at the clock, “It’s time, white swan. I’ll be here afterwards.” 

In your first performance of Swan Lake, you manage twenty-six pirouettes. It’s the most you’ve ever done, and once you’ve done it, you find yourself finishing the entire performance in higher spirits than when you started it. 

Somehow, you were finishing the day of your first performance with your thighs wrapped around Harry’s waist as he presses you up against the door of your flat. He had offered to walk you home, and the flirty way the two of you had become accustomed to felt a change as you walked home. You felt as though there was a magnet pulling you together and the closer you got to your flat, the closer you felt towards each other. 

You suspect that was why you were now pressed up against your door. 

“I’m so fucking proud of you.” Harry murmurs against your lips, and you smile against them. 

With him holding you up by your thighs, and with your half arsed directions, you both make your way towards your bedroom. Harry places you down upon your bed, his fingers grasping the jumper upon your skin. You pull away slightly and he pulls it above your head, exposing your chest to him. He leans down to press another kiss to your lips, moving down to your neck. He litters kisses down your cheeks, and your neck until he’s upon your chest. You hadn’t worn a bra with your jumper, so you’re completely exposed to him. 

The next movement he makes is to wrap his lips around one of your nipples, swirling his tongue around one of your budding nipples, using his thumb to tweak the other. Your hips are involuntarily bucking towards his. 

“Fuck, Harry.” You sigh, smiling down at his head as he kisses down your stomach until he reaches the band of your jogging bottoms. 

He stops his movements and rests his head upon your stomach, “What do you want?” 

“Want you to lick me.” He smiles at your words, and hooks his fingers into the band of your jogging bottoms, pulling them as well your underwear down your legs. 

He placed a litter of kisses across the inside of your thighs, teasing you until you can help but lift your hips up to him. 

“Are you this wet all for me, baby?” He questions, running his thumb across your clothed clit, “Got yourself all messy for me.” 

“You have a way with words.” You grin, reaching forward to run your fingers through his hair, “And a way with your mouth.” 

“You don’t need to flatter me anymore, I’m already in your bed.” He pecks your pubic bone, “But my ego really appreciates it.” 

“Your narcissistic side is showing.” 

“What did you expect?” He runs his fingers across your pubic bone, “You’re so fucking ready for me. All wet and ready for me to have a taste.” 

He starts with small kitten licks that have you withering across your duvet, small whines leaving your lips. He wraps his lips around your clit, mixing between nibbling and licking. 

You moan, lifting your back up off of the bed, “Can I use my fingers, baby?” 

“Please.” You nod, watching as he lifting his fingers up to your mouth, pushing them through your parted lips so you could swivel your tongue around them, wetting them to make them easier for him to push into you. He pushes his index finger in, rhythmically moving it in and out whilst also licking and flicking your clit with his tongue. Each thing his does coaxes you closer and closer to your orgasm, the way he skilfully uses his tongue sending moans spilling out of your lips.

“Don’t stop!” Harry drops his hand to your stomach, pushing down so that you aren’t moving you hips as he brings you closer to your peak, “M’gonna come.” 

“Come for me, baby.” He murmurs against you, flicking his tongue quickly. 

You can feel your stomach tightening as he moves quickly, the feeling causing your toes to curl as he does so. 

“Fuck.” He uses his fingers and his tongue to coax you through your orgasm. 

You honestly couldn’t believe that you had waited this long to have him touch you. Moans spill out of your lips as you reach your high, the euphoric feeling spreading over your entire body. 

Harry kisses your clit one last time, kissing up your stomach and around your breasts, up until he wrapped his lips around your nipple. He allowed you to recover and calm your breathing whilst he kissed up your body. 

“Good?” 

You hum, a small giggle escaping your lips, “Fucking amazing.” 

“I’m glad your enjoyed it.” He laughed, leaning down to place a kiss to your lips. 

Feeling as though you had recovered from your orgasm, you start to unbutton his trousers. He grins against your lips as you slip your hand beneath the band of his boxers, wrapping your fingers around his length. 

“I want you to fuck me.” You whisper against his lips, the corners of yours curling up. 

“Yeah.” He grins, “Have you got any condoms?” 

You were glad at this point that you’d picked some up during your daily shop. Not that you had expected anything, but it was always good to be prepared. 

“Yeah.” You nod, “In the bedside table.” 

He stands up from the bed and unbuttons his shirt, pushing it off his shoulders and he makes his way towards the drawer. You eyes never leave his body, watching as his ever muscle flexes. He opens the drawer and drops his hand in, and if you weren’t already flushed, you certainly would be from what he pulls out. 

“What’s this?” He holds up the small vibrator that you had bought a few years ago to relive some of your tension every once in a while. 

“God.” You drop back upon the bed, your head rested on the pillow as your bring your hand to your forehead, “Just something I use to relive some of the tension in me every once in a while.”  

“The tension?” He raises his eyebrow, “When was the last time you used it?” 

You shrug, “Ages ago. I think it was after the first dress rehearsal.” 

“That long ago? We’ll have to change that.” He turns the little machine on to its first setting, holding it as it vibrates in his hand. 

“Are you going to use that on me?” You ask, writhing as he places it upon your budding nipple. 

“As tempting as it is.”  He smirks, taking it away just as a moan threatens to leave your lips, “I think we’ll save it for another day.” 

He turns it off and places it back in the bedside table, taking the box of condoms that are in there out also. He takes the foil packet out and at the same time pushes his underwear off of his body, revealing his member to you. It was already red, the tip angry and already leaking pre-come as it stood out from his body. 

You can’t take your eyes off him. You had had some encounters with people before hand, you had needs, but you certainly hadn’t been with anyone quite so well endowed. He uses his teeth to rip open the packet, pinching it between his fingers and rolling it over his length. 

“Can I ride you?” You ask, watching as Harry kneels on the edge of the bed. 

He raises his eyebrows, “Do you want to?” 

“I do.” You smile, watching as he laid down next to you. 

“Hop on then.” He smirks, reaching for your hips as your straddle him. 

You take him in your hand, lining him up with your centre. He grips your hips, guiding you down onto his cock. You moan as he fills you up, but you can move at your own speed and wait as long as you needed. 

“Fuck.” He moans, sitting up to rest his head against your shoulder, “So fucking tight around my cock. Squeezing me just right.” 

You couldn’t believe how much you were throbbing between your legs at the sounds of his words. Once you’ve become accustomed to his size, you started to bounce up and down on him. You catch his lips with yours, allowing yourself to succumb under the pleasure he was giving you. You couldn’t help the moans that tumbled out of your lips whilst you bounce, Harry’s hips lifting to meet yours.

“Harry, fucking hell.” He was making you feel so full, and so good, “Fuck, can I go faster?” 

“Go as fast as you want, baby.” He kisses your lips briefly, “Make yourself come on my cock.” 

You bounce your hips faster, leaning forward to grip your headboard to give you more leverage to move your hips. You could feel sweat collecting upon your brow and body, your hair sticking to your neck. The only sound in the room was your moans and your groans, as well as the creaking of your bed and your headboard hitting the wall. You prayed at this point that your neighbours couldn’t hear you through your wall. 

“I’m gonna come, H.” You moan out, lowering one of your hands so that you could rub your clit. Harry immediately notices and pushes your hand away, replacing it with his own finger rubbing quickly to coax your second orgasm of the night. 

“Come on my cock, baby.” He speeds up his hips meeting yours, “Come on, I wanna feel you.” 

Your second orgasm washes over you quicker than your first, and your eyes roll to the back of your head. Harry thrusts harshly up into you a few time and you feel him spill into the condom. He groans against your neck as you collapse on top of him. 

You had never felt so close to someone as you did to Harry, and even though you weren’t together yet it just felt right to take this step. 

“You’re incredible, swan.” 

You laugh and roll off him, whimpering at the feeling of him leaving you. You lay down next to him and watch as he takes the condom off and places it in the small bin in the corner of your room. Whilst he does that, you quickly make your way towards the bathroom to pee and clean yourself up. Never in your whole life had you felt this wet and orgasmed so hard from being with someone, and you don’t know whether to thank Harry or worship the ground that he walks on. 

As you walk back into your room, you notice Harry laid upon your bed, shirtless and smiling as you walk back into the room. You slip into bed next to him. 

“Harry?” He hums, “If I perform like this every night, are you going to do this overnight?” 

“If you want me to, swan, I’ll never stop.” 

You didn’t want him to. 

A couple of months later, your time as the White Swan had finished. Your parents, as well as both Ethel and Harry, joined you for celebratory drinks. You found yourself loving having Harry with you, and Harry loved being with you as far as you could tell. 

Waking up the next morning, you can’t remember the last time you woke up without having something to do the next day. Harry’s deep breaths fill your ears as he rests upon your neck, his arm around your waist and his leg pressed in between yours. You loved the feeling of having him so close to you, and you felt as though you couldn’t ever have him away from you now.

“Are you awake?” His voice is low and gruff in a morning, and it sparks something between your legs almost immediately. 

“No.” You smile, “I’m still asleep.” 

“I think you should stick to ballet, lying isn’t your forte.” He squeezes your middle, pressing a kiss to your cheek. 

“I’m not lying. I’m still asleep.” You smile, relishing in the feeling of his arm around you.

He laughs, “I didn’t know I was with a sleep talker, swan. If I’d have known I would’ve been running for the hills.” 

“How long have you been awake then?” You laugh, “Have you been watching me sleep?” 

“Not watching.” He laughs, “Observing.” 

You turn your head briefly so that you’re looking at him, leaning forward to place a kiss to his cheek. 

“Kissy?” 

“Morning breath.” You grimace, “Once I’ve brushed my teeth, maybe.” 

“I don’t care.” He shakes his head, “I just want a kiss.” 

“I care, though.” 

“‘Gis a kiss, baby.” You lean forward and place a closed-lipped peck to his lips. 

“Good enough?” 

“I guess that’s all I’m getting.” 

“That is correct.” You laugh. 

Harry’s eyes fall upon yours, and he doesn’t look away. Even though he just woke up, he’s so effortlessly gorgeous that you can’t help but want to jump his bones and kiss him all of the time. 

In your opinion, you had hit the jackpot. It was the most traditional relationship, but Harry was your person. From the first day you walked into the rehearsal room and Harry looked at you with such joy in his eyes you knew he was for you. You didn’t care what anyone else though, and you only wanted him. 

You were falling for him, at a fast speed but you certainly would never complain. 

“Be mine?” 

“What?” You question, your eyebrows furrowing. 

“Be my girlfriend?” He asked, “Be mine?” 

You ponder the thought for a couple of seconds, leaving him waiting before your lips curl up into a smile, “Okay.” 

“Okay.” You kiss him again, “I’ll be your girlfriend.” 

“My swan.” He smiles, leaning forward to kiss you once again. 

You laugh, “I feel like that’s going to be my forever nickname.” 

“It’s how we met.” He smiles, “I never want to forget it.” 

You never do. 

[arrowflier]

Ian growing his first tomatoes and being proud of himself really excited to share them with Mickey and cooking with them everyday. But what he doesn't know is that tomatoes don't agree with Mickey. They upset his stomach and make him feel sick. He loves seeing Ian so happy and proud of himself so he doesn't tell him and eats everything he makes him. Ian eventually realizes what's going on. A prompt if you'd like to write it

Content Warnings: food, vomit

The first time it happened, Mickey assumed it was a coincidence. 

Ian had been so fucking excited for his first tomato crop; he'd spent ages looking up recipes, running ideas past anyone who would listen, and scrounging through old boxed from the house to look for weird cooking shit.  He had beamed when the day of his first harvest finally came, carrying those little red fruits in his big hands so carefully that you'd be forgiven for thinking them infants, or puppies, or some other fragile living thing.

So after an hour of Ian washing, slicing, and cooking up his new pride and joy, there was no way in he'll Mickey was going to ruin his husband's happy smile by telling him that just the smell of dinner was making his stomach churn.

It was probably nothing, he told himself, choking down bite after bite, letting out agreeable little hums after each one just to add to the sparkle in Ian's eyes.

Maybe lunch wasn't sitting well; he should have known not to eat anything offered by the Alibi, even under new management (especially under new management).  That had to be it.  There was no way it had anything to do with the dish Ian had painstakingly made from ingredients so fresh they had still been on the vine just hours before.

So Mickey swallowed his bile with the last bite on his plate, asked for seconds, and ate that too.  Then he made his excuses, ran down to the little restroom off the gym, and threw it all up where Ian wouldn't have to see.  He ignored the visible seeds and flecks of red tomato skin as he flushed the evidence away.

Just a coincidence, that was all.  Next time would go better.

The second time it happened, Mickey thought that maybe Ian was just a bad cook.  Ian's courage had been bolstered by his "successful" first attempt, apparently, because this time he went all out.  He'd even traded one of his precious tomatoes for some fresh herbs from the plot next to his in the community garden, just to make it special.

And special it was.  A special he'll, more like, when Mickey nearly voided his bowels an hour later on their new sofa.  He leapt up and made it to the bathroom just in time, and spent the next thirty minutes trying to quietly take care of things so Ian wouldn't hear.

Of course, Ian did hear, and he just had to ask about it.  They were getting ready for bed, Mickey tugging on a too-large sleep shirt from a pile of Ian's laundry, when a hand landed lightly on his waist.

"Feeling better?" Ian asked softly, rubbing soothing circles into the stretched skin of Mickey's sore belly.

"Uh, yeah," Mickey hedged, not wanting to reveal his lingering discomfort.  "It's nothing, really."

"You sure?" Ian asked, pressing closer against his back as his hand migrated to rest over Mickey's chest.  "You can tell me if something made you sick, you know," he said.  "I won't take it personally."

If he wasn't used to Ian hitting close to home while having absolutely no knowledge of what he was talking about, Mickey might have wondered then if his husband was catching on.

But it was an innocent enough question, after all.

"Nah, man," he said, pulling away to sit on the bed.  "Probably picked up a bug on our rounds or something."

Ian looked unconvinced, biting his lip, and Mickey rushed to reassure him.

"I'm be right as rain tomorrow," he promised.  "Just you watch."

Ian hesitated, but ultimately nodded, and joined him in bed.  He curled just a little tighter around Mickey than normal, hand resting carefully on his stomach.

It wasn't a lie, Mickey figured as he waited for sleep to claim him.  He would be fine by morning.  And next time, he'd do the cooking himself, just in case, and then this couldn't happen again.

By the third time, just the next morning, Mickey finally had to admit what he dreaded all along: it really was the goddamned tomatoes.

He’d made the omelets himself, using normal ingredients they got from the store, all things he had eaten before.  He’d mixed in some diced tomato, just for flavor, and because he knew Ian would like it.

And like it Ian did.  His husband was chowing down like someone might take away his plate if he didn’t eat fast enough, barely stopping to sip at his coffee, while Mickey sat silently across from him.

The first bite of his eggs had already almost done him in, the taste of the tomato now forever associated with stomach cramps and bile and bloating.  He knew there was no way for it to be effecting him already, but his stomach clenched when he tried to lift another bite to his lips, and he set down his fork with a clatter.

Ian stopped eating.

“Everything okay, Mickey?” he asked, concerned.  “You’ve barely touched your breakfast.”

“What are you lookin’ at my breakfast for?” Mickey deflected.  “Eyes on your own fuckin’ plate, you’ve got yours.”

Ian obediently ducked his head, but still managed to catch Mickey poking a chunk of tomato away from everything else on his plate.

“You don’t like the tomato?” he asked, ignoring Mickey’s exasperated sigh at his interference.  “I think they really add something.”

“Love them,” Mickey answered with a forced, toothy smile.  “Just saving the best for last.”  He stabbed at the tomato with his fork, spearing it, and lifted it to his lips to make a point.

“Yum,” he said around it as he chewed and forced himself to swallow.  “See?  Delic--”

Then he was up, away from the table, and running to the kitchen sink as it came right back up.

“Mickey, what the fuck?” Ian yelled, his chair sliding back with a screech as he hurried to join Mickey at the counter.

“Sorry,” Mickey managed, head still down, as Ian rubbed his back.  “Think something’s wrong with me; didn’t mean to waste it.”

Ian’s hand stilled.

“Waste it?” he asked.  “Mickey, what are talking about?”

“The tomatoes, Ian,” Mickey sighed.  “I know you’re fuckin’ proud of ‘em or whatever, but I just can’t keep ‘em down.”

“Can’t keep them...” Ian started, then stopped.  His hand fell away, only to reappear on the back of Mickey’s neck, forcing his to lift his head and look at him.

“Mickey,” Ian said firmly.  “How long has this been going on?”

Mickey didn’t answer.  Ian shook him, just lightly, then winced when it set him retching again into the stainless steel sink.

“How long have my tomatoes been making you sick, Mickey?” he asked again, quieter, and Mickey finally gave in.

“Few days,” he muttered, and Ian let go of him completely.

“A few--Mickey, it’s only been a few days.  And I’ve been putting them in everything.”

Ian sounded worried, almost distraught, and that was exactly what Mickey had been trying to avoid.

“No, it’s fine,” he insisted, pushing away from the sink.  He forced himself to swallow past the burning bile in his throat.  “I’m not some fuckin’ pussy-ass kid, Gallagher, I know how to work through a fuckin’ stomach ache.”

If anything, that only made Ian look more concerned.

“I know you do, Mick,” he said.  “But why the hell did you think you had to?  Terry’s gone, we’re doing good; you know you don’t need to do shit like that anymore.”

Oh.  

“You’re not upset?” Mickey asked, just to clarify, and Ian rubbed a hand over his face.

“Of course I’m upset, Mickey,” he sighed.  “You lied to me for days because what, you didn’t want to look weak?”

“No,” Mickey said.  “Cause I didn’t want to hurt your feelings.”

Ian took a deep breath.

“Mickey,” he said slowly.  “I promise my feelings aren’t hurt just because you can’t stomach tomatoes.  It really wouldn’t have been a big deal.”

Mickey shrugged.  “I should be able to, though,” he said.  “Ketchup, soup, fucking pasta--I eat all that no problem, and we just had extra sauce on our pizza last week.  It’s just...”

He hesitated to say it out loud.

“Just my tomatoes,” Ian finished for him.  ‘Right.”

Ian took a step forward, and took Mickey’s hand.  He guided him back over to the table, sat him down--moving his plate away so he didn’t have to look at it--and joined him there.

“Mickey,” he started.  “Maybe it’s not just that.”  Mickey bit his lip, figuring that Ian cared more than he let on if he wanted to find some other excuse, but what his husband said next surprised him.

“I mean,” Ian continued, “it’s not like either of us had a lot of fresh ingredients around growing up.”

Well, he was right about that.

“And really fresh stuff, not processed, none of the preservative shit we’ve been eating our whole lives...well, it’s not your fault that your system doesn’t know what to do with it.”

“Still wish I could eat it,” Mickey grumbled, feeling a little better in spite of himself.  “It makes you so happy, man, and I had to go and ruin it.”

Ian laughed.

“You didn’t ruin anything, you idiot,” he said fondly.  “But next time I want to try something new, maybe we’ll take it a little slower, yeah?”

Mickey nodded.

“And maybe,” Ian added, “You’ll tell me there’s a problem before you puke all over our dishes.”

Mickey looked over to the sink, where sure enough, the majority of their dishes were piles and waiting to be washed, now needing it more than ever.

Oops.

“At least they were already dirty?” he said, and Ian smiled.

“Yeah,” he agreed.  “At least there’s that.”

He leaned forward, and pressed a kiss to Mickey’s head.  Then he grabbed up Mickey’s unfinished breakfast and a fork.

“Really, Gallagher?” Mickey asked.  “You still wanna eat after that?”

“Why not?” Ian answered, mouth already full.  “Besides, if you don’t like it,” he added, a stray piece of egg clinging to the side of his mouth, “then all the more for me.”

It was Mickey’s turn to grin, even as he watched the gruesome show that was Ian trying to eat.

Tomatoes or not, table manners or not, he really loved that man.