#which is why her eyes are shaped Like That instead of big dinner plates and she has a stronger chin and wider jaw

[candycryptids]

Pain and suffering and struggling but also much learning :/ weighting eyelashes is such a pain in the ass but for my first thing I’m working on weighting and fine tuning it’s. Not too bad. Part of the problem might be the eyelids anyways 🤦

[mizusswordtip]

Down The Rabbit Hole ⚝ Killian Jones x Reader (28)

find the story on wattpad

summary: Alice's plan to overthrow the Queen of Hearts is thwarted by a dashing pirate with a hook. Years later, after the curse is broken, they reunite once again.

masterlist

I approach Jefferson's massive home with wonder painted across my face. It's not like his cozy little tree house back in Wonderland. Instead, he has a ginormous mansion that nestles perfectly into the woods. As beautiful as his home is, I can't exactly imagine him living here and being happy. I know all to well what it's like to live in a home so large you feel an emptiness inside you so deep you can feel it growing inside you. An infinite void.

That's why me and Andy spent most of our time on the sea in The Wonderland. I've only talked to Andy once since getting back. He hugged me so tightly that I couldn't breath and I had dinner with him and his new wife. God, that will still take some time getting used too.

Jefferson invited me to come have breakfast with him, telling me he has a big surprise for me. I don't know whether to feel dread or excitement. It's always a mixed bag when it comes to him.

I approach the white double doors and don't have time to knock when the door swings open. I furrow my brows when I see that no one is in front of me. I'm about to call out to him when I look down and see a little girl looking up at me with a big grin.

"Uh..." I trail off, aware of how dumb I sound right now. She's probably about eleven years old with golden blonde hair.

"I'm Grace! Father's told me so much about you!" She exclaims and I feel my heart nearly explode out of my chest. I slowly crouch so that we can be eye to tearful eye. Well, at least I have tears in my eyes.

"Grace." I say simply and she simply nods her head, as though she's proud of the fact.

"Alice. Meet my daughter Grace." Jefferson's voice comes from over Grace's shoulder. I look up to see Jefferson smiling at me knowingly. I get up and throw my arms around his shoulders. I bury my face in his chest, not even feeling guilty that I'm getting it wet.

"You found her." My voice is muffled but apparently he can still hear me.

"Why are you crying?" He whispers in my ear, concerned. I pull back to look him in the eyes.

"I promised to help you find her. Instead, I got myself sucked into another portal." I whisper back with eyes full of sorrow and guilt. He smiles at me knowingly then.

"Alice, you did help me find her. You helped break the curse and you won against Cora." He grasps my shoulders for extra emphasis and I look down at my shoes.

"I know, I just-"

"Just nothing. Now come have breakfast." He doesn't let me finish, putting his arm around me and leading me to the kitchen. I notice now that Grace must have left us to give us some privacy. The kitchen is just as large as I had expected and smells like the bakeries back in the enchanted forest.

"I made waffles!" Grace exclaims while serving up the delicious looking food on the already made table.

"And I made tea!" Jefferson adds on, taking his place at the table. I sit across from him, staring down at my plate at the oddly shaped food.

"What's a waffle?" I ask.

"You don't know what a waffle is? It's the best food ever." Grace sits down to my left and sounds down right scandalized by my ignorance.

"She refuses to eat anything else for her breakfast." Jefferson chimes in, jokingly acting annoyed and I laugh a little.

"Well, if it's the best food ever, then I would too." I say, giving her a playful nudge which she grins at.

"Oh, now you're turning on me too." Jefferson mumbles under his breath, rolling his eyes.

"Are going to live here with us now?" Grace's question surprises me and also warms my heart at the same time, looking up at me with a hopeful expression.

"I have my own place but as long it's okay with your father, I can stay the night sometimes." She looks sad for a moment but perks up at the mention of a sleep over.

"Really?"

"Now look what you've done." Jefferson says with amusement dancing in his eyes.

"We can watch movies and I just got this new karaoke machine that we can use!" She says, gesturing wildly with her arms. I can't help but grin back, despite not knowing what karaoke is. I had only learned recently what a movie is after spending an embarrassingly long amount of time trying to turn on my television at him. I inevitably had to call Regina to ask her how it works, which she found amusing.

"And I-"

"Father... it's a girls slumber party." Grace chastises her father, as if she's talking to a child. I let out a little laugh behind my hand before leaning over to Grace's ear.

"Are you sure about that Grace? We can always give your dad a nice makeover." I whisper, loud enough to were I know Jefferson can hear me. He sends me a look as Grace's face lights up in delight at the thought.

"Yes!"

"Welcome home, Alice." Jefferson smiles at me softly and I relax my shoulders.

I've decided that waffles are also my favorite food and that I will be eating them every day. Jefferson rolled his eyes when I told him this but lightened up when it made Grace laugh. Once our plates were finished we all sat around the table talking, waiting for the school bus to arrive for Grace. My phone suddenly vibrates in my pocket, making me jump a little. I also had to ask Regina how to use a phone. I look at the screen and see Emma's name in bold white font. Jefferson raises an eyebrow when I stand up suddenly.

"It's Emma, I'll just be a second." I say, holding up my phone. He nods and I go to the next room and hit the green button to answer.

"You need to get down to the station immediately." She says before I can even say a word. My brows furrow.

"I... am I in trouble sheriff?" I say through a somewhat nervous laugh.

"No... it's Archie. He's dead." Her words stop me cold in my tracks.

"What? We just saw him the other night. What happened?" I whisper, not wanting Grace to be worried.

"He's been murdered so you need to get down here immediately." She says impatiently.

"Why?" My voice perplexed. Does she think that I did something to Archie?

"I've been meaning to ask you, and I guess now is as good of a time as any, will you be my deputy?" Her words are rushed and I can't really blame her considering the circumstances. My breath hitches as I consider what she's asking me.

"Like...a job?"

"Yes." I can't help but smile, which is probably inappropriate considering why she's calling me in the first place but I can't help it.

"I'm in. I'll be there as soon as I can." I say and quickly hang up. I walk into the kitchen once more and Jefferson furrows his brows at the smile on my face. "Hey, I really have to go to the station. There's been an emergency. Can I get a ride?"

"The station?" He asks, just as perplexed as I was a minute ago.

"I'm the new deputy of Storybrooke as of one minute ago." I say with a shrug, trying to sound nonchalant and failing miserably. He smiles a proud smile.

"I'll get you a ride." He says, already standing. A honking noise comes from outside and I can see the yellow bus parked out front. "Grace, that's the bus. I'll pick you up from school." He tells her and she nods her head, grabbing her back pack.

"Don't forget about our sleepover!" She calls out over her shoulders and I laugh a little.

"I won't! Have a good day!" I say before walking outside myself once the bus pulls off.

"What happened?" He asks as I follow him to the driveway.

"Archie's dead." I say and he stops dead in his tracks and looks over his shoulder with a raised brow.

"The therapist?" He clarifies and I nod my head with a heavy sigh.

"Yeah, murdered according to Emma." I say. I'm about to ask him which car we're taking when he holds something out to me. It takes me a moment to process that he's holding a key. I can't help but feel a sense of deja vu. "What?"

"It's yours." He tells me with an amused smile. My eyes widen comically.

"What? Jefferson, you need your car." I say, still not taking the key that he's still holding. He gives me a look before grabbing my hand and placing the key in it.

"This one's my spare. I told you I have a surprise for you." He says with a big smile and look over at the sleek white car.

"I thought the surprise was Grace." I mutter, still a little in disbelief. I may not know much about this world but I do know that these machines are very expensive.

"Well then, here's your second surprise." He says, throwing his arms out before walking over to the passenger side.

"I don't know how to drive!" I exclaim incredulously with a laugh which he returns.

"Get in, I'll teach you." He says before closing the door. I walk over to the drivers side, running my hand along his-my new car before getting in.

"You're crazy."

"But you wouldn't have me any other way."

When I arrive at the station, Emma quickly fills me in on what's happening. According to Ruby, Regina was the last to see Archie after an argument they had on the docks. Which is why she's in custody right now, ready to be questioned.

I haven't known Ruby for long but she doesn't strike me as the type to blatantly lie like this. At least not when it comes to something as important as a murder. I've known Regina for longer and most of that time I've only known her for her cruelty so all things considered, it should be easy for me to believe she would kill Archie. But yet...

"Regina wouldn't do this." I say to Emma and her parents. Snow and David were already here when I got here and seemed surprised when Emma handed me the Deputy's badge. I think David was expecting to help her with the sheriff stuff. Spend more time with his daughter, which is why I didn't complain when they decided to stay.

"She wouldn't?" Snow asks, looking at me incredulously.

"Why would she risk losing Henry over a small tiff?" I ask rhetorically. I can believe Regina would betray me, sure. We have only been friends for less than a week after all. But Henry? That is a much larger pill to swallow.

"Let's go find out." Emma finally chimes in and motions for me to go first into the interrogation room. I pause with my hand on the handle when I notice David stepping as though to come with.

"Wait, why are you coming?" I ask, trying not to sound rude.

"I'm her dad." He says and I shake my head incredulously.

"What?" I get that he wants to spend more time with her but it's a little inappropriate to bring your dad into an interrogation.

"Enough. It's fine, Alice. He can come." Emma says and I simply nod my head before entering the room. Regina looks up and when she sees me she looks shocked. Emma and David follow behind me, closing the door.

"Why are you here?" She asks me.

"I'm the new deputy." I say with an apologetic shrug. Her eyebrows raise but she doesn't look upset by it.

"Congratulations." She turns her attention to Emma. "Why am I here?"

"You know why you're here. Because of Archie." Emma says, examining her expression.

"Oh, it's now against the law to get into an argument with someone?" Regina asks rhetorically, sounding genuinely confused.

"It is if you go to their office later that night and kill them." David chimes in from behind me, leaning back against the wall. Regina looks stricken with shock, her face turning peaky as she looks to me. I feel a pang of guilt in my chest when she realizes that everyone thinks she did it. I try to convey with my eyes that I believe her but she's too worked up to notice or doesn't care.

"Archie's dead?" She somberly.

"Stop it, Regina. Ruby saw you going into his office last night." David snaps and I shoot him a warning look which he ignores.

"Then she's lying. I was home all evening." She shoots back, going into defense mode. When nobody says anything she snaps. "After everything I've done to change, to win Henry back, why would I toss it all away now?" I shoot Emma a pointed look at that which she returns with a subtle nod of her head. I let out a little sigh of relieve, realizing that Emma also realizes that something's not adding up. "And if I did, and I was going to kill Archie, you would never know it. The fact that he's dead and you caught me shows sloppiness."

"She's right, it doesn't add up." I say and Regina looks at me with wide eyes, as though she expected me to turn on her. Well, jokes on her.

"Come on, Emma. Who do you think is lying? Ruby or her? She's incapable of change, no matter how many times we've given her the chance. Why should this time be different?" David asks, outrage clear in his voice. I finally turn to face him.

"I think you're bias is getting in the way of thinking about this objectively." I say lowly and he shoots me an irritated look.

"Come on, we can talk out here." Emma cuts in before he can reply and I nod my head. We make our way out of the interrogation room to see Snow staring through the window at Regina tearfully.

"So what now?" Snow asks once the door is close, not bothering to turn to talk to us.

"Lock her up." David says immediately.

"We can't lock her up because she didn't do it." Emma says and I nod my head in agreement.

"That's what I've been saying." I mutter and Snow finally turns to look at us incredulously.

"You really believe her?" She furrows her brows, the tears now gone from her eyes.

"I watched her when we told her Archie was dead. She didn't know." Emma explains.

"Besides, it's not about believing, it's about none of this making sense. Why would someone with magic walk through a front door to murder someone in plain view? Why do we even know he's dead to begin with? Why would she leave the body to be found?" I add on and Snow and David look at each other, unconvinced.

"So what do you suggest we do?" Snow asks.

"Let her go." I say immediately. Whether or not Regina really is guilty, we have no evidence to even charge her.

"Alice-"

"We let her go." Emma interrupts her dad and I give her a thankful nod of my head before speaking up once more.

"And then we find the truth."

[thepremedthatwrites]

Things Have Changed

request: Can you plsss do a Peter x reader relationship where the reader is a family friend and Peter has always had a crush on her and idk ends up admitting it to her at night or something and things get very heated like smutty or whatever.

Did I decide to edit this a day early because I'm procrastinating my school work? Perhaps. But anyways, I hope you all like this fic!

warning: smut below the cut

I could feel the beginning of sweat start to drip down the side of my face as I squinted my eyes trying to see the others in the water. The sand was at the border of being too hot to stand on in bare feet, causing me to walk closer to the water where the cold ocean had cooled the ground. “C’mon (y/n)!” Lucy shouted over the sound of the waves crashing into the shore. “The water isn’t even that cold!”

This was a lie and we both knew it. The icy water brushed the tip of my toes as I held back a shudder. At least the water would help me cool off from the unforgiving sun. As I stood contemplating what to do, I felt a hand graze my back. I turned to see Peter walking by me, a grin on his face. “Too scared to run in, (y/n)?” he asked. That was enough to kick me into action as I started to follow him into the water.

“Of course not,” I replied, holding back the instinct to let out a gasp as the cold water wrapped itself around my stomach. Both of our parents stayed by the towels and umbrellas, leaving the ocean to their children as they drank and talked about whatever it is that adults talked about. The blue house that our families had rented stood tall and proud behind our parents, overlooking the beach and whatever sat beyond what reaches of the ocean we could see.

Peter and I came to a halt as we reached where Lucy and Edmund were. “Where’s Susan?” Ed asked as Peter dunked his head under the water.

“I believe she said she was taking a nap,” I replied as Peter’s head reappeared from the dark water. His blond hair was now pressed against his forehead and had become a few shades darker from the weight of the water.

“Watch out! Big wave!” Lucy just managed to shout out the words before my vision was painted white as the wave crashed down on us. I lost control of my body as I let the current drag me around like a rag doll until I felt myself crash into something solid. At first, I thought it was a rock before I felt a pair of strong arms wrap around my chest.

“Don’t worry, I got you.�� I heard Peter say as my head broke the surface. I gulped in a deep breath of air, the oxygen reaching my lungs as I wiped the salt water out of my burning eyes.

“Thanks,” I managed as the taste of salt water danced down my throat.

“I think some of the water went up my nose.” I heard Edmund say while Lucy was pushing her hair that had been plastered in front of her eyes out of her face. I turned my head to look at Peter whose arms were still around me. The sudden realization of the situation finally dawned on me and I felt my face warm at the close proximity. Suddenly his arms felt like iron chains around me and I couldn’t ignore the feeling of their weight on me. Peter seemed to have also become aware of the sensation of our bodies pressed against each other as he slowly removed his arms from me.

“Sorry,” he said softly, his face now also a light shade of pink.

“Yeah, no worries,” I said quickly. I was suddenly thankful for the large wave coming our way as I turned to face it, focusing my thoughts on not being drowned by the rushing water.

“I almost drowned!” Lucy exclaimed as we all sat around the dinner table. It had been my mom’s turn to cook dinner and so she had made us all steak. I started to cut into the meat as Lucy told Susan all about our adventures in the water. Peter and I had become a bit more quiet since the incident in the ocean. I felt myself stealing glances at him every now and then. Sometimes he had already been looking at me too.

“I’m so happy you guys decided to join us here in the states.” I heard my mom say to the Pevensies’ parents. “I feel like we haven’t seen each other since we moved to America.”

“I know, it seems the kids are having a lot of fun hanging out again,” Mrs. Pevensie replied. I turned back to the conversation but could feel the burning glances Peter occasionally threw at me throughout dinner. I was thankful when dinner was over, trying to wash the dishes as quickly as possible and avoiding being near Peter as much as the confines of the kitchen allowed. The parents had disappeared, most likely to the balcony that overlooked the water to drink some more and catch up on what they had missed in the past five years. As soon as the dishes were done, I excused myself blaming my exhaustion on the sun and went to my room.

I was surprised when I woke up to a dark room. I had expected myself to be unable to sleep and instead toss and turn until the rest of the lights went out in the house. I got up from my bed, checking my phone to see it was around three in the morning. My stomach growled as I turned on my lights. It seems that pushing the food around your plate does little to actually satisfy your hunger. I paused at my mirror before leaving. I brushed out my hair and checked to see that the pajamas I wore were acceptable to be seen by the public. I wasn’t sure if I would run into Peter, he was most likely still asleep, but I wanted to play it safe. I wasn’t sure why I was so concerned about my appearance around him. When we were younger, before my family moved to America, I could have cared less about what he thought of my appearance. But then again, we had been younger then. Five years younger to be exact. We had grown since then. His shoulders had broadened and he had become taller. My body had developed curves where it used to be straight and I had finally grown into myself. We weren’t how we were back in the UK. We were older and more mature.

I shook the thoughts from my mind and opened the door to my room. I walked as quietly as I could past my parents’ room and then past all of the Pevensies’ rooms before reaching the stairs that led to the living area that held the kitchen. I opened the fridge as my stomach automatically growled at the sight of all the food. The best part of being on vacation was the fact that the fridge was always filled with leftovers from dinner. I settled on some of the mac and cheese, spooning some into a bowl before putting it into the microwave. I stood patiently as the whir of the microwave filled the silence that had settled into the room.

“What are you doing up?” I jumped at the voice before turning to see Peter standing by the entrance of the kitchen.

“I was hungry,” I said while pointing my head to the microwave. He walked over to me and I was suddenly thankful I had spent the extra time on my appearance before leaving my room. He wore only a pair of grey sweatpants. I couldn’t help myself and let my eyes wander his exposed abs. He definitely did not have those five years ago.

“I missed seeing you,” he said, causing my eyes to jump from his abs to his ocean blue eyes which I could easily drown in if I weren’t careful.

“Me too,” I replied, my voice much softer than I expected it to be. I cleared my throat before speaking again. “I missed having someone I could annoy like an older brother.” Peter’s face scrunched as he shook his head.

“Please don’t call me an older brother. That’s weird.” I raised an eyebrow at this, my heart racing. All this time I had thought he saw me as another little sister. But if that wasn’t the case, what did he see me as?

“And why is that?” I questioned. Peter’s face seemed to have reddened. I wasn’t sure if it had already been red from the sun and I just hadn’t noticed or if he was blushing. Before he could answer the microwave went off causing me to jump. Peter opened the door, taking the bowl out as steam rose from the food.

He set the bowl down on the counter before turning back to me. His eyes seemed to be studying me. I subconsciously bit my bottom lip in anticipation. I watched as his eyes followed the movement. “You’ve grown a lot since I last saw you,” he finally said.

“And so have you.”

“The thoughts I have about you…” Peter started as he walked closer to me, stopping so that we were almost pressed against each other. “They are not thoughts a brother has about his sister.” He leaned down towards my ear, his hot breath brushing the bare skin behind my ear and sending a shiver down my spine. “That is why it’s weird for you to call me an older brother.” My face must have been the color of a lobster at this point, and I was no longer afflicted with hunger. Instead, lust coursed through my veins. He paused for a moment as if in thought before pressing his lips on the same skin his breath had just caressed. I let out a soft sigh allowing my hand to grasp onto his strong bicep. My other hand had crept around to his stomach, tracing the abs I had just moments before been admiring. He moved his lips, kissing down my neck as I moved my head back to give him more access.

His hands wrapped around my waist before he lifted me into the air. I let out a gasp in surprise before my ass met the cool counter. His eyes looked me up and down, filled with lust and desire. “Has anyone told you how beautiful you are?” he asked. His hands were by my hips as his thumb traced shapes on my thighs. I found myself blushing at his words. Many people had called me beautiful before but the way he spoke it was the same way people sing praises to the gods they worship. He stepped towards me and I opened my legs for him so that he was as close as physically possible.

He stopped for a moment, his eyes meeting mine. They seemed to be saying all the things that had been left unsaid since we had reunited. You’re different. I’m different. These emotions are different. I love you. I wrapped my legs around him, forcing him closer (something I had not thought possible). His hands moved so that they were on either side of me, resting on the counter. My own hands were on his shoulders. I moved one so that it caressed his face. My mac and cheese sat patiently on the counter next to us, expecting to be eaten soon. I had a feeling the bowl would be staying there until the morning. Peter brought his face closer to mine. He paused for a moment, his eyes moving from my lips to my eyes. I gave a slight nod. Then, he kissed me.

We kissed and suddenly I understood what the authors of the romance books I used to read were writing about. He was like a drug. With each touch I needed more. With each kiss I craved just one more moment of the taste of his lips. My hands traveled to his hair as we continued to kiss. His hands wandered my back, traveling beneath the fabric of my t-shirt. I didn’t want to pull away. I wanted to stay like this for eternity. On the other hand, I wanted more. I wanted to connect us even more. I wanted him to fuck me.

I pulled back just long enough for my shirt to be discarded. Then I immediately reconnected our lips. I kissed him hungrily, as if those few seconds apart had left me famished. His hands slipped between us, holding my breasts. A small shudder went down my spine as his thumbs brushed my nipples. His hands continuously moved, as if they weren’t sure what to do with all the newly exposed skin. He squeezed my breasts before letting his hands travel down my stomach, gripping my waist harshly as we continued to kiss.

I could feel a growing wetness between my legs. The feeling of something hard being pushed against my inner thigh informed me Peter was just as turned on. He disconnected our lips, tasting my chin and then neck and then collar bone until he reached my tits. I attempted to catch my breath as his tongue flicked across my nipple. I let out a soft gasp as my back arched in pleasure. He started to suck on my tits, making sure to show great care and attention to both of them. His grip on my waist tightened and I was sure there would be a slight bruise in the morning. I couldn’t bring myself to care at the moment as that slight pain was the only thing keeping me grounded as pure pleasure pulsed throughout my body as Peter continued to kiss and suck and bite on the sensitive areas.

He stopped abruptly, standing upright and looking me directly in the eye. His erection that had been increasing in size and hardness was now protruding from his pants and pressing into the soft skin of my thigh. “When I was younger, I had always felt an attraction to you, (y/n),” he said. His voice was lower than usual and he seemed to be slightly out of breath as he spoke. “I never knew whether it was a friendly attraction or something stronger than that. But the moment I saw you for the first time in five years, I knew the feelings I felt for you...it wasn’t something most people feel. It was something so strong it took everything in me to not fall to my knees in defeat. In a happy defeat where I surrendered my heart to you.” I felt as if my heart was going to burst from my chest as I listened. “My body burns with desire for you (y/n). Please. Let me show you how you make me feel. Let me love you.”

I licked my lips, suddenly aware of how dry my mouth felt. I took a deep breath, hoping some of the fresh night air would clear my lust-clouded mind for a moment. “Yes,” I said. “Yes, yes, yes, yes. Yes a million times.” I could feel a large grin growing on my face and Peter was wearing a matching one. He grabbed my face in his hands before bringing us together for a kiss. It didn’t take long for the kiss to deepen as his hands left my face and traveled down my bare top before playing with the band of my shorts. I inched towards the edge of the counter before sliding off, our lips parting for a moment as my feet hit the ground before immediately reuniting.

He roughly pulled down my shorts and panties in one motion, letting the clothes hit the ground. I followed suit, pulling down his sweatpants and boxers. We parted for a moment, the moonlight shining through the window that sat over the sink allowing enough light so that I could see the true length of him. I had only a few moments to admire him, the thickness of his cock was sure to stretch me out deliciously, before he turned me around. I bent over the counter, the cool stone pressing against my naked skin. His hands gripped my hips to hold me in place before he pushed into me.

I let out a loud moan, causing him to put a hand over my mouth. He stayed in place, leaning over so that his mouth was next to my ear. “We have to be quiet. Unless you want both our families to see what we’re doing.” I nodded in understandance as he stood up straight again. He started by moving slowly. He pulled out halfway before pushing in all the way to the base. I felt my pussy flutter around him. He continued this slow rhythm for a while, testing out the water while stretching me out to fit him completely.

Once I felt myself start to adjust he started to go faster. I could feel the edge of the counter dig into my stomach each time my body was thrusted forward. My breasts moved in rhythm with Peter, my weight being supported by my forearms which were propped on top of the counter. His fingers dug into my hips as he fucked me. The kitchen was filled with the sound of skin slapping skin and our muffled moans as we did our best to stay quiet. The smell of sweat and sex hovered in the room. The moon acted as a spotlight for our indecent act. My vision was obstructed by my hair which was now a mess, strands of it sitting in front of my face.

“Peter, please,” I moaned quietly. I could feel myself getting closer, my legs now weaker than before as my arms were the only thing holding me up. Peter sensed this, using his hands that were on my hips to lift me up. I felt my mouth open, but no noise came out as my mind became overtaken with pleasure. I could hear Peter let out a groan as I felt myself collapse around him. I let my head fall forward as I attempted to recover from my orgasm. The pleasure started to become more bearable as Peter continued to fuck me. His thrusts were becoming more desperate. Just as I started to think he couldn’t be any rougher, he pulled out.

“Get on your knees,” he commanded. The way he spoke brought butterflies to my stomach. He spoke much more forcefully than before, his voice laced with lust as he was too concerned with his own release to speak gently to me. I obeyed, opening my mouth for him unprompted. I started moving my head for him, wanting to make him feel just as good as he made me feel. His head fell back as his hip thrusted forward. I fought back the reflex to gag as his cock buried itself deep within my throat. His hand pushed on the back of my head, keeping me in place as I felt the beginning spurt of a warm and bitter liquid shooting down my throat. I swallowed all of it greedily, wanting to have as much of Peter as I could.

As the last drop of his cum slid down my throat, he slowly pulled away. I wiped away the small dribble of drool that had fallen down my chin. I looked up at him and he looked down at me, a smile on his face. His hand ran down the side of my head before caressing my face. I slowly got up, my legs still slightly weak. “Wow,” I said, slightly out of breath. Peter let out a soft chuckle before pulling me in for a kiss. We quietly got dressed. Peter grabbed my hand, leading me to his room. Our clothes didn’t stay on for too long as they quickly found their way to his bedroom floor. The night was filled with whispers of confessions of love, hands in hair, and lips pressed on naked skin. The next morning I would wake up, afraid that it had all been a dream before I turned to see Peter’s face on the pillow next to me. Then, a smile matching Peter’s sleepy one would form on my face.

[midnight-dreamerness]

Home

summary: Chris goes on a mission and doesn't return.

pairing: Chris Redfield x Reader

warning: mentioned of death. Lots of angst tbh.

word count: 2k

~~~~

You knew what you signed up for when you said yes to going on a date. You knew there was a possibility that he wouldn’t come home. It was a risk you were willing to take to be loved by him. And he did. He did love you. More than anyone. He promised to marry you one day. He said he wanted to have children and settle down in a small town and live out the rest of his life with you, but there was something he had to do first.

So he left. He had been gone for three months when Leon knocked on your door. You saw the look on his face and that’s all it took for your world to come crashing down.

You didn’t do much after that. You stayed inside, playing what Leon said over and over until you had cried yourself to sleep.

“There was a problem. He had to go back in, but…the place exploded. They never found a body. I’m sorry.”

You cried and cried and cried. For months that’s all you did. No one could come through to you, not even Claire, who was going through something similar. You hated that she was handling it better than you were.

Claire stayed with you, but it wasn’t long before she had to go back to work. You didn’t even say anything when she told you she was leaving, simply buried your head into Chris’s pillow. But when you heard the door shut, you cried harder.

She reminded you of him. Her stubbornness. Her attitude.

She wouldn’t let you wallow all day. She made you get up. Made you eat. Made you wash your hair even though it was the last thing you wanted to do. But that did stop you from dying inside. Your clothes started to hang off your body, it got even worse after she left. You sleep all the time but your eyes still help dark bags under them. You didn’t care. What was the point? You had no one anymore. You were a shell of the person you used to be. When he died, he took your heart with him.

Leon had taken it upon himself to make sure you were okay. He came ever so often, restocked the fridge, made sure everything was okay before he left again. But there was something about this visit that made him stay. He looked into Chris’s room, watching your unsteady breathing as you slept. Even asleep, you couldn’t function right without him, without Chris.

So when you woke up he told you he was moving in, to which you protested. You argued that you didn’t need anyone to take care of you, you could do it yourself.

“Look at what you're doing to yourself!” He argued, making you stand in front of your full length mirror. You glanced over yourself with teary eyes. Your skin was dull and your eyes lacked any sort of emotion but sadness. Your clothes looked two sizes too big and you could clearly see your cheek bones. You took in a breath and placed your hand over your mouth.

“Do you think Chris would want this for you?” Leon asked, cradling you in his arms. You shook your head as an answer and pulled him close. You missed him so much that it hurt. All you did was cry and sleep. Every little thing reminded you of him. This apartment reminded you of him. You knew deep down that you needed to leave to get better, but you were afraid you would forget him. And you didn’t want that. He was your first everything. And he was supposed to be your last, you hated that he wouldn’t get to be.

You decided a couple days later that you would be moving in with Leon. Just until you felt like you could make it on your own again. And it was great. You applied for a job, to get your mind off of things. Although you had been working at the BSAA at the time of Chris’s….. You decided it was best that you found another, one that would get your mind off of him instead of filling it with the memories you both had together.

You did find one, pretty quickly actually.

You stuffed the tip the lovely couple left you into the pocket of your apron and headed to the back with the empty plates and cups.

“Did you see the way that guy was staring at you?” Trisha, my new friend and coworker, says as she walks inside the back beside me. You groan at her eagerness and place the dirty dishes on the tray to be washed.

She giggles and walks with you back out Into the front where you start wiping down the front counter.

“Yes. I did notice, Trish.”

She begins to gush as to how cute you both would be and how perfect your children would look.

You avoided the conversation all together, the way he stared at you sent shivers down you alone and triggered memories you didn’t want to remember in that particular moment. Your heart began to ache again. Luckily, you got to head home early today.

You were ready to talk about what happened with Leon, who surprisingly had the day off.

“Why haven’t you told her?” Leon asked, setting the table for dinner. You shrugged and picked at your nails as you leaned up against the kitchen counter.

“She’s your friend. You need to tell her.”

“I don’t like talking about it.”

“We’re technically talking about it now.”

A huff leaves your lips and you fall into your seat at the table. You glance up at him for a moment. He stared down at you with his arms folded over his chest and a knowing look etched across his face. You look around the room, trying not to give into his stare. You notice another plate set and you ask him about it, to which he responded:

“First of all, don’t change the subject. Tell her. And second, Claire is coming over.”

You mumble under your breath and fold your arms, like a child. Leon chuckles.

“I love you. And I love that you’ve found someone you clicked with aside from the cat down the street.”

You go to protest but you're cut off by the sound of the door bell ringing. You get up and walk alongside Leon to answer the door, grumbling under your breath. Claire stood there, an unreadable expression on her face. You hadn’t taken notice of the tall man standing behind her. But when you did, your eyes began to fill with tears

“There’s something I need to-“

“Chris?”

His eyes meet yours for a short moment before he’s crashing into you. His arms wrapping around your waist tightly, afraid if he let you go he’d lose you all over again. You were in shock. Your body is frozen and not yet reacting to the feeling of him. It was familiar and warm. It was what you ached for when you woke up in the middle of the night. It was what you were missing when he was gone, when you thought he was dead.

“Princess?”

The nickname. It reached out and pulled you in. You reacted instantly, a sob leaving your lips and you grabbed him and held him tightly.

“I thought - I thought -“

“Shh. I know. I’m here now.”

You rest against his chest, his scent radiating over you, making you cry harder. He had come back to you. This had to be a dream, you were scared to death that it was.

“It’s been 7 months, Chris. Where were you?”

Leon glanced down at the sleeping girl as she snuggled into her returned lover. She fit so perfectly in his arms, he couldn’t lie. He was happy that she got him back.

“I had no choice but to stay away. There was…someone after me. I had to take care of the problem.”

“For 7 months? Do you realize how much that took a toll on her?”

Chris glared Leon down, who simply ran his hands over his face in frustration.

“She’s been a mess. Ask Claire.”

Claire adjusted herself comfortably but awkwardly in her chair. Her eyes trained on her shoes.

“Claire-“

“You weren’t here, Chris. We are so glad to have you back. But you should’ve called. Should’ve sent a letter. She was killing herself.”

Chris felt awful for what happened. He couldn’t let anyone know he was alive, it would’ve put them in danger. He hopes one day they’ll understand that. He knew you would.

He explained it to them. How everything went down, and why he had to do what he did to keep them/you alive.

“Tell me. How was she?”

Leon explained it to him as simply as he could. How she wouldn’t eat, didn’t go out, barely talked at all. Chris hugged her tighter to his chest as he soaked in everything. Every word that came from Leon’s mouth made him grimace.

“She’s taking pills to help her sleep at night. She’s even got a job down the street. Working at Sally’s.”

“We’ll I’m here now. And I don’t plan on going anywhere.”

It was the next day when you woke up. You jumped out of bed and looked around. You were alone. Tears entered your eyes as you had come to the conclusion that it was a dream. Chris wasn’t here. He didn’t come home. You sat down on the bed and sobbed, holding your hands to your chest.

“Baby? What’s wrong?”

Chris rushed towards you and bent down to meet your eyes. They widened and relief spread through your body like a wildfire. You wrapped your arms around his neck.

“God, I thought it was a dream.”

Chris chuckled under his breath and lifted you up by your thighs. He turned and sat on the bed and readjusted you so you were sitting comfortably on his lap. You squeal and giggled as he sat you down, smiling and pecking his lips.

“I’m sorry I was gone so long.”

You shake your head and peck his lips again.

“I'm glad you're here. Chris, I -“

“They told me everything. I’m done. I’m retiring. And I’m going to give you that life I promised you.”

Butterflies filled your stomach and you couldn’t help the tears that slid down your face. Excitement isn’t a big enough word to describe how you were feeling. You were so happy to have him back. It felt like years since he had been gone, not even gone. You thought he was dead, in your mind you were never getting him back. But here he is. He has you in his lap, his hands resting on the curve of your hips, fingers tracing soft shapes into your exposed skin. Your eyes locked on each other, basking in the moment that you wanted to last forever.

He was home.

He was home in your arms.

“Marry me?”

[reidingmelodies]

Dinos and Tigers and Donuts, Oh My!

Summary: Spencer wanted one thing this year: for your kids to plan his perfect Father’s Day Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Includes: dad!Spencer, heavy mentions of Father’s Day, mentions and consumption of food Category: Fluff Word Count: 2.6k A/N: This isn’t my favorite, but it’s been sitting in my drafts for awhile all the same! Happy Sunday ♥️

 When Spencer was called away on cases your house seemed to lose a bit of its charm.  Mornings felt more tiring than ever before, the afternoon slumps dragged on for what seemed like years, and dinners, even with babbling five and seven-year-olds at your side, were a little too quiet.

This time around though, things were different.  You woke up to your five-year-old daughter sitting by your feet, her mind preoccupied by one of the search and find books Spencer had bought her the week prior.

The space next to you was empty, a piece of paper lying where your husband previously was, and you knew exactly what it was going to say before you even picked it up.

Good morning, love,

I got called on a case this morning, but it’s local and the team thinks we can wrap it up by tonight.  The kids both ate breakfast- and PSA that they were a little too excited I was going to be gone for the day.  I don’t know what they’re planning, but good luck.  I love you, and I’ll see you soon.

-Spencer

Unlike Spencer, you knew exactly what the kids were excited for, and it had everything to do with Father’s Day being tomorrow- you just hoped he would be home in time to celebrate like he predicted.

You folded the letter and placed it in your nightstand along with the others you’ve found gracing his pillow in years past when your bedroom door opened just the slightest amount.

In walked your seven-year-old son, comically exaggerating his tip toe motions as he stage whispered to his sister.  

“Is Mommy still sleeping?” He shifted his gaze in your direction, all effort to keep quiet out the window when he saw your eyes meet his.

“Mom! Guess what?” you opened your mouth to respond, but your daughter beat you to the punch.

“Daddy left for a work trip this morning!  So, we can make our plan today while he isn’t here!”

There was no denying that your kids loved their daddy, that was for sure.

“That’s so great!” you matched their enthusiasm with ease, getting ready for the day while they kept brainstorming in the background.  

Just last week, you had asked Spencer what he wanted to do for Father’s Day over dinner, and the children were as attentive as ever, eyes wide and lips pursed as they waited to hear the plans for the big day.

But, to their amusement, Spencer’s only plan was that they plan the entire day.  His reasoning was that they were the reason he was a dad so they should be the ones to decide what to do, but really you knew the truth was that he overheard their whispers about having the perfect plan for his day.

A plan you were finally going to be let in on, so it seemed.

The three of you made your way down to the kitchen where you settled down with your breakfast, eyebrows raised in enjoyment at your children.  They were sat across from you with a stash of markers and fresh index cards, and they had a few stacks of previously filled out index cards resting along the center of the table.

Ah- so that’s where they’re going with this.

It had become a bit of a family tradition to have a family scavenger hunt whenever you had a full weekend together.  You and Spencer were all too familiar with the concept of cherishing the time you have with your loved ones, and there were many a weekend where Spencer was called away, or you were busy with a million other plans ranging from extended family gatherings to birthday parties or weddings.

It was all the more reason to make the moments where it was just the four of you count even more- and thus, family scavenger hunts were born.

When they were toddlers, the scavenger hunts centered around finding certain shapes or colors, be it in the house or at the park.  Once every item was checked off you would have a family outing of their choice: the go to choice used to be another trip to the park (the one with the ‘fancier’ slides this time), but with the upgrade to slightly harder scavenger hunts centered on science and math they’ve upped their prize to ice cream.

What could you say? They were Spencer’s kids through and through.

“Wow!” you exclaimed, relishing in the beaming smiles on their faces, “do you guys want to make a scavenger hunt for daddy?”

Two enthusiastic faces nodded eagerly in your direction as your son grabbed one of the red markers.

“Yes! And we can have dino pancakes in the morning and get donuts after our scavenger hunt at the zoo- all of daddy’s favorite things!”

Dino pancakes were a Sunday morning staple in your home- you would use a cookie cutter to cut out a dinosaur shaped pancake, and the kids would eat those while you and Spencer would eat the ones with the dinosaur outline in them (and a few regular ones for good measure).  But donuts instead of ice cream?  That was new.

“That’s a great idea, I’m so proud of you guys for working together to plan this,” you praised, “but why donuts?”

Your daughter peered up from the index card she was drawing flowers on to answer your question, “because they’re daddy’s favorite and it’s daddy’s day!”

“And for our scavenger hunt we want all the animals to spell out ‘best dad ever’,” your son tacked on at the end, already beginning the task of writing numbers and circling them on the front of the card.

That was another newfound tradition for your family.  Now that the kids were learning to read, the two of you would try to have the first letter of each answer spell out a certain word or phrase.  Sometimes, it would be something like ‘I love you’ or ‘hello’, other times it would be the name of a special someone that would be joining you for ice cream afterwards (so far ‘Aunt Penny’ and ‘Uncle D’ were their favorite ones to come across).

You grinned once more, moving to grab your laptop and pulling the Smithsonian’s National Zoo site up to look at their list of animals.

“Alright, my loves- let’s do this”.

***

Three hours, eleven index cards, one snack break, and two very patient children later, your scavenger hunt was finished, index cards clipped and ready to go for the following morning.

Each index card had blank slots, the number of which corresponded to the name of the animal, on the front of the card with three fun facts written on the back.  In retrospect, Spencer wouldn’t even need the slots (or more than one fun fact, to be fair), but you knew he’d make a show of trying to think of each and every animal tomorrow afternoon.

Yet another reason you loved him.

The rest of the day passed by in a blur, all of your energy going into spending time with your kids. But once they went to bed, that energy was refocused into prepping for tomorrow to take your mind off the fact that it was nearing 10 PM and your husband wasn’t there.

You couldn’t bear to think of your kids disappointment if he didn’t make it home that night.

Outfits out and pancakes ready to be made, you made your way to the couch when the clock struck 11:30 PM, ready to settle in for a movie while you awaited his return but there was no need- as you walked into the room your husband made his way through the front door.  He looked as exhausted as ever, but the glimmer in his eyes proclaimed what you knew to be true.

He was happy to be home.

***

7 AM the next morning found you face to face with two wide eyed children gently shaking you awake, joy radiating from them as they saw that their father was fast asleep next to you.

With much persuasion in the form of puppy dog eyes, you made your way out of bed and into the kitchen to start the first task of the day: dino pancakes.  

Your little helpers set the table and brought Spencer’s gifts from the coat closet and into the dining room in the meantime, and as you placed the last pancake on a plate two arms wrapped around you and pulled you back tightly.

“Good morning, darling,” his raspy morning voice brought a soft smile to your face, and you leaned your head back to kiss his lips in greeting.

“Happy Father’s Day, Spence,” you laid another kiss against his lips, pulling back as the patter of little feet made their way into the kitchen.

“Daddy!  Happy Father’s Day!”

“Daddy!  Come see your gifts and eat pancakes!”

Two little voices fought for the spotlight, and Spencer kneeled to the ground to wrap the both of them in a hug.  You laughed at the scene, watching as they squeezed him just as hard before grabbing onto his arm and leading him to the dining room table.

“C’mon, Dad,” your son pulled his chair out and pushed his gifts closer to his seat, “let’s eat and open gifts!”

“Gifts?  You guys know I don’t want anything,” his brows furrowed as he looked at you, but you shrugged your eyes and took a bite of your pancakes in response.

“You always say that,” you rightly claimed, “and we always buy you gifts anyway- it’s practically tradition”.

You had a point, there.

Breakfast passed by in a blur of conversation, dad jokes, and present unwrapping.  And just like that, Spencer was the owner of new books to pass his time on the jet, a 5k puzzle you were sure he’d solve in an hour flat, and a homemade Father’s Day shirt with your children’s handprints decorating a globe, the words ’Best Dad in the WORLD!!!’ gracing the blank space.

His eyes sparkled when he saw the shirt, and you swore you’ve never been happier to call that man your husband and the father of your children.

Granted, that thought passed your mind no less than fifteen times a day, but still.

Within the hour, the four of you were out the door and on the way to the zoo, Spencer’s Father’s Day shirt proudly on display.

You drove with a grin, the radio turned off in favor of listening to your children explain today’s scavenger hunt to Spencer.  They were practically giving a word for word verbatim of what the two of you usually told them pre-scavenger hunt, all the more proof that your kids were sponges.

An equally exciting yet terrifying thought.

You were at the zoo within half an hour, your hand intertwined with your son’s while your daughter latched onto her father, everyone eager to start the scavenger hunt.

“Alright, guys,” Spencer began, “what’s our first clue?”

“Mommy can read it!” your daughter piped up and you nodded, grabbing the small pile from her hands before reading the first card of the day.

“Okay, so!  This animal has six letters in its name, and your three fun facts are: whiskers help this animal detect objects around them which helps them navigate the dark, they’re the largest rodents in North America, and when they’re in danger they slap their tail on the surface of the water” you finished your explanation and watched as Spencer’s eyes lit up in recognition, but just as you predicted he dragged the process out instead of guessing right away.

“Hm, it sounds like we should go to the rodent exhibit first!” He proclaimed, and your kids nodded, walking in a row like little ducklings to the exhibit.

The four of you took your time looking at each of the animals, until you came face to face with the animal in question.  “Aha! I think the animal we’re looking for is a beaver,” his answer was met with cheers from both of your children, and you wrote the answer in the blank slots before continuing with the hunt.

At the end of the hour you added an electric eel, sloth bear, tiger, dama gazelle, alpaca, and degu to the list.  Eight animals down, four to go.

Which was fantastic, considering that your kids were starting to get antsy for donuts.

“Okay, guys!  Are we ready for our next animal?” You were walking hand in hand with Spencer, your kids skipping directly in front of you and eagerly shouting in affirmation at your question.

The four of you stepped to the side, and you grabbed hold of the fourth to last index card before reciting the hints.

“Alright so!  This animal is two words, seven letters in the first word and seven in the second.  They have whiskers that look like mustaches, they’re native to the southwest Amazon Basin, and they have claws on each of their toes but the big one”.

“Hmm.. I don’t know guys, what do you think?” Spencer turned to your children, smiling wide when your son giggled in response.

“We can’t tell you, Dad! It’s a secret”.

Spencer laughed, sighing in defeat as your daughter gestured for him to come closer.  He did as asked, leaning down until she able to reach his ear, “I think we should go to the monkey exhibit!”

Her not so quiet whisper brought a smile to both yours and Spencer’s faces, and a grimace to your son’s but to the monkeys you went, where you came face to face with an Emperor Tamarin.

From there you crossed a Von der Decken’s Hornbill and an Eld’s Deer off your list until you had one animal left.

“Alright, my love- last one! This animal is two words, three letters in the first one and five in the second.  They mainly eat bamboo, their fur acts like a camouflage when they climb in trees, and they live in temperate forests in the Himalayas,” you finished your spiel with a quick eyebrow raise towards your children, both of which were not so discreetly pointing at the red panda exhibit just a few feet away.

“Is it a red panda?” Spencer asked, giving both your kids high fives when they jumped up and down in excitement.

“Yay Daddy, you got it! And guess what all of the first letters spell? Best dad ever!” your daughter jumped into his arms and Spencer chuckled, spinning her around and laying a gentle kiss on her head.

“Is that so?” he asked, “you three are too nice to me”.

Truthfully, you didn’t think it was possible to be too nice to Spencer.

“How about our last surprise for Daddy now, my loves?” your question was met with enthusiasm from your little family, and you were back in your car and on your way to Spencer’s favorite bakery in ten minutes flat.

As you pulled up to the bakery, two eager children and one extremely happy father made plans as to what donuts they were going to eat.

It was decided that Spencer would get a chocolate frosted donut with sprinkles, your son would get a glazed donut, and your daughter would get jelly.

And you? You had every intention to get your favorite too, but above all you were just happy that another amazing Father’s Day was in the books for Spencer.

The seventh of many.

***

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[kimnjss]

no right answer | knj

⤑  series: plot twist

⤑ pairing: rapper!namjoon x rich girl!reader

⤑ genre: angst... nd that’s pretty much it :/

⤑ rating: PG13

⤑ word count: 7.7K // unedited.

⤑ warnings: daddy jung makes an appearance... joon still doesn’t know how to communicate. yns feelings are hurt once again. they internally ramble a lot :/ and hoseok has a girlfriend. 

⤑ chapter song: meet me in amsterdam - RINI 

⤑ A/N: heyy! nothing much to say, sooo! enjoy nd let me know what you think x 

MAY 23RD, 2020 | 18:10

The fact that you've shown up on Hyungwon's arm sets your father off way before you're entering the hall. You can tell by the pulsing of the vein above his brow, the grit in his teeth when you pass him, Hyungwon making a show of wrapping his arm around your waist, leading you inside before your father can get a word in.

Although, you're sure he'll find his opportunity at some point tonight.

Just as expected, gossip blog journalists, reports, the regular old press are all lining the front hall, waiting patiently for a word from the man who made this night possible. At least, that's the premise they're hiding under – it was more than obvious that they were silently hoping to witness something, anything that could be a headliner in the morning.

You do as you've been told, smile brightly at everyone that approaches, introduce Hyungwon as a close friend, chat up the new artists that your father's company plan to release in the upcoming months. Words flowing from your lips effortlessly, trained to dodge every prying question, every backhanded compliment. The practiced smile doesn't falter once.

Not even when the demanding flick of the fingers comes from your father across just a few feet away, behind his back of course, out of view from the woman reporter he's chatting with. Summoning you over silently, his first choice nowhere in sight. With a huff, you're politely ending the meaningless babble of the tag on your dress.

Hand pressed lightly to Hyungwon's chest, his arm doesn't drop from around you as the two of you make your way over to your father. Only making it halfway before he's shooing Hyungwon away, with the same discreetness he used to call you over. “I'll meet you inside,” You're mumbling with a roll of your eyes, easily able to guess that he's started his bullshit early.

Hesitant at first, but he's soon releasing you, placing a soft kiss to the top of your head that has the cameras around flashing. Great. The apologetic look on his face washes the scowl from your features. His lips shifting into a sheepish smile while he reaches his hand up to ruffle your perfectly styled hair. That has questions flying from the crowd, demanding to know if the two of you were an item.

“I'll see you inside,” He says with a curt nod of his head, turning to finish his journey into the hall. On his way, he's swept up by a man with a million questions and a mic. No time to worry about that now, instead you take the place beside your father. 

And he pulls this surprised expression as if he didn't expect you to just show up. “Oh, there she is! We've been talking about your new position. Would you like to chime in?” You wouldn't have been asked to 'chime in' if the appropriate response hadn't been hammered into your head on the way over here.

Practiced smile. “It's an honor to work so closely with such great artists. Their work is promising and truly inspiring. We have a lot of plans for them in the future that I'm sure will be nothing short of impressive...” You begin to drown yourself out, thoughtlessly speaking as your eyes wander around the room. Seemingly on their own accord until your sight is fixing on someone.

Okay, not just someone. Namjoon. He looks nice. Although, you can tell he's wearing the same suit that he had worn to Jungkook's release. Did he only have one nice suit? You'd have to make a note of that for... quite literally shaking the thought from your head, you're turning back into the conversation. Laughing at something you don't even find funny. All while stealing glances across the room, not being able to keep yourself from wondering if he was stealing glances too.

He was. Like really bad too. From the moment Joon had stepped into the building, his eyes were finding you. Guided by the loud chatter around you, looking in time to catch the gentle pat of your boyfriend's hand on your head. The way you seemed to melt at the simple touch, he could do that. He was sure of it.

And then he can't tear his gaze off you. While you pull that fake smile of yours, only half-listening to the words that are being said to you. Laughing flatly and leaning into your dad, keeping up with the perfect father/daughter image that he had no idea was an act until he was meeting you. Talking to you. Now it was obvious. Even from across the room, he could tell that you were faking.

That you'd much rather be anywhere else.

“Ah! There's my little prodigy,” Your father speaks loud enough for everyone to hear, just in case they missed the dramatic cheers that echoed the moment he was stepping out of his car. Hoseok was here. A pretty redhead latched to his side, a sight that your father is surprised to see. He hated surprises.

Nevertheless, he's embracing your brother into a tight hug. Which to the press looks like an adorable father and son moment, but you know better. You've been on the receiving end of that hug before and judging from the frown that flashes over Hoseok's features, he's in trouble. But later, of course, there are millions of eyes watching right now – so the interview goes on with loud laughs and large smiles.

And for once, you're not the only one that's faking it.

MAY 23RD, 2020 | 18:49

“Come sit, Yn. Dinner is about to be served,” He doesn't leave any room for argument with the tone that he uses and you find it funny that he thinks that you're not going to try. “No thanks, I'm going to sit with my date,” Hyungwon has found his place amongst the other artists of his status, chatting loosely with them as he waits for you.

A timed twitch of your father's brow, he'd usually rely on Hoseok's easy coaxing to get you to comply without making a scene. But that trick is out of commission. Sat close with his pretty girlfriend, flirting openly. Ooh, the look on your father's face when he was introducing her to reports as his girlfriend. Not an ounce of uncertainty in his voice. 'Her? She's my girlfriend. Ti-lee. Isn't she gorgeous?'.

Didn't even spare a glance in your dad's direction, heart-shaped eyes saved for his girl. Expertly ignoring the subtle glares he was being sent whenever there was a chance. Your brother might be your hero. Seriously.

He's not about to beg you to come sit at the family table with him and Hoseok, that could risk giving away there is a reason why you wouldn't want to sit there in the first place. So instead, he's pushing a tight-lipped smile onto his lips, nodding his head before turning around. Exactly.

Hyungwon stands as you approach, pulling your chair out like a true gentleman. Leaning over to press his lips to your cheek and drop his arm around your shoulders, easily tucking you into his side. “How'd it go? Who's that with your brother?”

“His girlfriend. Can you believe it? Hoseok brought someone that wasn't approved and cleared by our dad first,” The shock in your tone matches the look on his face, which quickly melts into a smile.

A soft chuckle falls from his lips, his head shaking from side to side. “This isn't gonna end well,” His shoulders shake with his laughter, hands reaching to lift his glass. You giggle beside him, knowing all too well how right he is. Whether it was now or later, this was going to explode into a big mess. You were just glad you were in the clear for once.

Dinner starts.

Hoseok is between bites of his Wagyu steak when he's being hit with the dry monotone voice of the man beside him. A tone that he's not at all used to when he's being addressed by his father. It's usually reserved for you. “Where'd you find this girl?” He doesn't even bother to whisper, Ti-lee no doubt hearing him.

“I met her,” He feels it would be a bad idea to say that he met her at a party. Much less a release party held at the company. He knew all too well how his father felt about you mixing work and pleasure, he wasn't going down that lane.

Thankfully, he's not so much interested in the where, but more so the why. Mind reeling with all the upsetting outcomes that can come from this. Some random girl slipping in could potentially ruin everything he carefully constructed for his son's life. He knew first hand how vicious women can be when money's involved. “What does she do?”

“She's a model,” Hoseok's sweating, fumbling for the right string of words that can help him paint Ti-lee in an admirable light. There was nothing wrong with her. She was a great girl, all of the things you'd want your girlfriend to be. But his father's expectations were high, there was no telling what would be a deal-breaker.

He scoffs, head bowed to bring attention back to his plate in front of him. “That's not a real job,” He laughs to himself, head shaking in disbelief. There was no way his son would be so stupid... to think he could be with a model? The field that aged quickly, chewed up and spit out money-grabbing woman chasing youth. Nope, not his son. “We'll talk about this later,”

Putting an end to the conversation before Hoseok can get another word in. He's back to his meal, acting as if he hadn't shaken up his son's entire world. 'We'll talk about this later,'. Never was a good sign. Always met with an ultimatum when it came to you. He tries to act cool, be mindful of the millions of eyes watching at all times. But it's hard to hide the twinge of annoyance souring his face.

It wasn't fair. He didn't even get the chance to introduce Ti-lee properly, give his dad a chance to get to know her. Then he'd understand how easy it is to fall for her, Hoseok stood no chance when it came to her. And he didn't even get to say that, to show him why he just had to bring her around. Present her as his girlfriend, because he was so proud. So proud and his dad didn't even care.

It was not fair.

MAY 23RD, 2020 | 20:17

As the night moves on, Joon finds himself searching for you through the crowd. His eyes find you all throughout dinner, half-listening to the chatter from Taehyung and Yoongi and watching you. Even when you move to dance, hand resting delicately over Hyungwon's bicep, so very clearly showcasing who you're here with tonight. But he can't tear his eyes away.

Left standing as more and more people spread around the hall, busying themselves with light conversation as the musicians play louder for the many people who have decided to move on to the dance floor. You're at the center of them all, smiling prettily up at your boyfriend. Laughing, a very real laugh that he didn't realize he missed until now.

God, he missed you so much. And it was worse because you were right there. Right in front of him, laughing and smiling and being yourself. But he felt like now for some reason, he couldn't be apart of that. That you didn't want him to be because he couldn't get it together. Because he couldn't say what was on his mind.

So, now he was stuck watching you. Admiring you from afar and wishing that it was him in the place of the man you brought tonight. Exclusively. All he wanted was to be yours exclusively. He knew that wouldn't happen so easily... or at all.

“You're actually staring, dude. What's with you?” Hoseok's voice is breaking through his thoughts, two glasses of brown liquor in hand. Hand outstretching in offering, Joon thanks him with a smile and a nod of his head. 

Embarrassingly, pulling his gaze away. He knew he had been doing it but had no idea that it was that obvious. Had you noticed too? Caught him staring while he was so lost in his thoughts of you. Not likely. You hadn't looked his way at all tonight. He was sure of it. “She doesn't look so annoying, tonight.” His shoulders lift in a shrug, that has Hoseok's eyebrows raising.

The number of times he's complained to your brother about how much you bothered him.

Who would've thought this would be the outcome. At first, all he wanted was for you to leave him alone. Bottle up your crush and give him some space so he can concentrate on his work. On what was important and now... now he was dying for a chance to go back. Before things got complicated and he found it hard to say what was on his mind.

It used to be so easy to just tell you to leave him alone, to take part in the back and forth banter that he never really realized was just foreplay. Now, things were so strained and he was the cause of it. Because he had gotten in his own way, confused you and now you were pulling back. As you should.

What was he supposed to do, though? You were with someone, seemingly happy. The way you dealt with relationships and... love, was much different from what he was used to. And he was in no place to ask you to change that for him, just as he wouldn't want you to ask him to change for you.

So then what was left? Leaving each other alone, keeping his feelings bottled up because telling you would only make matters worse. At least, that's what he had thought at first. Thought it would be easy to just pick up and move on without a word, but after that night with you, he should've known there was no turning back. Being close to you like that, of course, he'd want more.

He's barely registering Hoseok's question beside him, between the sips of liquor. “What is she then?” You were a lot of things. Except his. Never realized how devastating that would be until recently. Until you weren't a constant anymore, because he messed up.

And seeing you tonight, in that dress. Legs peaking out with each bold step of your pretty heels. He's felt those legs, wrapped firmly around his waist and beneath his hands. Soft. And warm. A lot like you. How could he not look? When you were right there being everything he wanted, how could he not look?

“She's... kinda sexy.” Eyes widening at his own words, forgetting for a moment who he was talking to. “I don't know, it was just an observation,” He rushes out, a light tint taking over his cheeks.

Hoseok laughs, tilting his head to look up at the man beside him. It's funny, despite the height difference, Hoseok still maintains his intimidating aura. Could have anyone quivering with a single glance. Well, anyone would didn't know how sweet and gentle the guy really was. Still, he's got an image to upkeep. “Did you just call my sister sexy?”

Joon is amongst the select few that know the big and scary Jung Hoseok is not as big and scary as he likes to act. So he doesn't falter, much. “She is sexy. I mean, look at her.” He's gesturing to the dance floor, where you're being spun and dipped. “When did that happen? She's never...” Speaking mainly to himself, Joon's words trail off as he watches how good you look when you dance.

“Alright. I feel like I should tell you not to check out my sister right in front of me,” He had been joking at first, but the guy was basically drooling over you. Didn't know if he should provide a handkerchief or rip him a new one. 

Joon's letting out a soft laugh, lifting his glass to take a sip from it. Attention shifting back to his friend. “You're twins. It's like I'm checking you out.” 

This has Hoseok bursting into laughter, a look of disbelief taking over his features. “That does not make it any better!” Despite the warning, his eyes move to find you again. Only to find you're not where he had seen you last and your boyfriend was nowhere insight as you made your way over to where he stood.

A gasp is escaping from Joon's lips before he has a chance to mask it. “Oh God, shut up. She's walking over here,” His hand reaching to hit Hoseok's chest, signaling for him to straighten up as he does the same. “Quick. Pretend I said something funny,”

He's not granted the laughter that he expects, instead, a confused expression takes over Hoseok's features as his sister approaches. “Our father would like to speak with us upstairs,” You don't even spare a glance in Joon's direction.

“What for?” You shrug. Of course, you wouldn't know something like that. You never knew the reason behind random summoning, just grew accustomed to despising them. “We can go when Ti-Lee comes out of the bathroom,” He's really doubled down on this girlfriend thing, it seemed.

With a nod, you turn to walk away. The familiar sound of Joon's voice stopping you, “You look pretty, Yn.” You hate the way your heart instantly reacts to the compliment. The three words that you've been hearing all night because of course, you'd look pretty. But for some reason, it feels different coming from him.

But, you wouldn't allow yourself to be swooned by that. He's made it clear where he stands when it comes to you. “Thanks. My date thinks so too,” It's sad how you enjoy the annoyed expression that flashes over his features, quickly being masked by surprise.

“Oh. You brought a date?” As if he didn't know. As if he hadn't spent the majority of the night watching you. So obviously, too. Did he think you wouldn't pick up on it? Though, you'll play along. “Mhm. Hyungwon. He's over there,” You point him out with an outstretched arm, leaning against the bar with the task of getting you a drink. 

Most times, Namjoon was pretty good at keeping his thoughts from slipping. Screening them to make sure that he doesn't say anything compromising. Something that he finds harder to do with you involved. “Why'd you bring a date?” Why wouldn't you bring a date? Is on the tip of your tongue.

He's all but screamed that he wanted nothing deeper with you, what with his refusal to speak on things that are clearly bothering him. He was interested, but not as interested as someone would like. And too much of a coward to say so. What was he so afraid of? It's not like you were some pure inexperienced child, you've gone through one night stands before.

If that was all he wanted, he should've just said that. Instead of leaving you to come to the conclusion on your own. Putting together the pieces he so begrudgingly gave to you. Nevermind what Yoongi claims, what he's said to you in the past. That doesn't matter. What matters is how he acts on it and Namjoon hasn't acted at all.

And you certainly weren't going to be the only one out in the wind. “It's a ball? I need someone to dance with... who are you gonna dance with?” A subtle jab, as if you hadn't noticed that he showed up with nobody on his arm tonight.

“I don't really dance much,” His reply is sheepish and meek, you barely hear the words coming from his lips.

You're letting out a hummed sigh and a practiced smile, “That's too bad. Maybe, I'll let you twirl me a few times. It is a charity event after all,” With that you're walking away, promising that you'll follow your brother upstairs when he goes and not sparing another glance at Namjoon.

Hoseok manages to hold his laughter until you're out of earshot, bending forward as he clutches his side. Thick chuckles falling from his lips and filling the space. Joon stays stood beside him, a glare shadowing his features, knowing that he's laughing at him and not being able to be mad at it. The entire situation was laughable in the worst way.

“Oof,” He breaths out after calming, straightening, and letting out a deep breath. “You really pissed her off. What did you do?” He almost delves into all the issues in his head with your brother but holds back for the sake of not getting himself in trouble. Admitting that he actually slept with you to your brother... not a great idea.

Instead, he decides to go with someone he knows Hoseok already knows. “ think she's still pissed I called her superficial... and self-centered,” Not his brightest moment, he was upset, but that wasn't an excuse. It wasn't something he made up, the evidence was right there. But you weren't only that, he knew that.

And chose to ignore it.

“That'll do it.” Hoseok answers with a sure nod. “She hates when people tell her about herself. Especially if they're right,” Of course, he knew how his sister was. How you acted and treated the people around you. You were everything a superficial, self-centered person could be.

Only the people close to you, the people that you felt comfortable with knew that there was more to it. So keen on keeping everyone at an arm's length, you choose to allow the immediate assumption pass, to keep from getting too close. It was better that way. Not often did you meet someone you desired to get to know deeper, to know you.

It felt like that with Joon sometimes, a lot of the time. And you did try to get him to see that you weren't what everyone thought, but it didn't work as well as you had hoped. You were still the same to him.

He's letting out a huff, fingers pushing through his hair. Frustration creeping up the back of his neck. “I didn't think she'd take it to heart! It was just an observation, I didn't mean...” He didn't mean to hurt you, wouldn't imagine it. He wished he could just tell you everything.

How he felt about you, how badly he wanted to be with him – and wanted you to want to be with him. If only it would ruin everything. Although, everything was already ruined... right?

“Why do you feel bad about it now?” Hoseok is fully invested in this conversation now, picking up on the pieces he's missing in the story of you and Namjoon. “Is it because she looks pretty and she's with some guy?”

“No!” There was more to it than just jealousy. As much as he wanted to be in Hyungwon's place, there... was there? “I mean.. yeah?” No, there had to be more. He didn't just want you because he didn't have you. He wanted you because you were you and he didn't quite get it, but he felt it whenever he was with you. It had nothing to do with being jealous. “No! Because she's... she's, her, you know? And she's nice to me, right? So I shouldn't be mean to her?”

Much harder to put into words under your brother's expectant gaze. How was he supposed to explain his feelings when he didn't quite understand them himself. When he hasn't even told you about them properly.

Realizing, he's not going to be getting any more information out of the man, Hoseok is nodding. Eyes searching to find his girlfriend in the crowd, only now remembering that he was expected to meet with his father. “Look, if you think you should apologize, go for it. But don't fuck with her head,” A pointed finger follows his stern warning.

No room is left for Namjoon to respond, Hoseok offering a quick goodbye before he stalks off to wrap himself around the pretty redhead he first arrived with. Whispering something to her before leading her out of the hall and you're just a few steps behind them.

MAY 23RD, 2020 | 21:09

You're told to leave the moment your father's eyes set on the woman wrapped around your brother's waist. Deciding that he'd much rather discuss a different matter tonight than what he had originally planned when he called the both of you away. You protest, of course, not wanting to leave him to get in trouble. Even though, he's never done the same for you.

The threats and ultimatums that you knew were coming, he wouldn't be able to handle it. Would more than likely bend at your father's will because he knew nothing else. Ready to do whatever to keep the peace, even if it was against what he wanted.

Hoseok is the one that asks you to leave, though. Shooing you away with a reassuring smile and while hesitant, you still leave. Offering a soft smile over to Ti-lee who looks as nervous as ever. 

The first person you lay eyes on when you're reentering the room is no other than Kim Namjoon. Stood in the same spot as before, now engaged in conversation with both Jungkook and Jimin. His eyes lift, just for a moment, before he's spotting you. Offering up the first smile he's shown you in the past few days.

And you hate how quickly your body reacts to the twitch of the lip. You should be focusing on moving on, forgetting everything that happened between the two of you. It was nothing. He surely thought so, no matter how many lousy smiles he flashes in your direction. It didn't change anything. He didn't want to be with you.

Ugh, but you wanted him to be.

More than ready to stamp your foot and ball your fists until you were getting what you want. Yet, you had an inkling that no matter the size of your objection – it still wouldn't change anything. Wouldn't change his mind or his heart. It was a fluke, it had to be. Why else would he have pulled back the way he had.

Which is the reason you can't fathom why he'd be making his way over to you right now. Slipping through the crowd of strangers until he's standing right in front of you, with that same smile on his face. “Can I dance with you, now?” His voice just above a whisper and you really wished he'd stop confusing you.

And you wish, you'd stop letting him. “Sure,” 

He takes you and leads you into the crowd of dancing bodies, hand placed lightly on the middle of the back as the two of you move to the music. His hand is so big in your hand, the feel of it reminding you of your first night together. Your first date. Hardly two weeks ago, but it felt like much longer.

You don't speak for a while, allow yourself to imagine that it is like this. Simple. That you're with him and he wants to be with you, despite whatever's holding him back. That he talks to you, instead of leaving you in the dark. That you're happy. As pathetic as it may seem, you were always happy with him.

Never even had to do much, he just knew how to bring a smile to your face. Whether it was catching the subtle blush on his cheeks when you teased him or when he was letting himself go around you, being bold. You liked it most when he threw caution to the wind, your heart did too.

And you had thought you'd be seeing much more of that. But maybe you were wrong...

The sound of him clearing his throat, pulls you from your thoughts, training your full attention on him. He looks nervous. “Did... Did I hurt your feelings when I said... those things?” How fragile did he think you were? Expected to have you curled up crying over being told something that you've known your whole life?

Yeah, right. Your feelings weren't hurt, but that didn't mean it was something that you'd like to hear from someone you thought was starting to see you differently. Someone that you thought liked you. It was annoying.

“No. I love being insulted,” Words dry, yet dripping with sarcasm.

He sighs, “I wasn't trying to insult you,”

The humorless laugh that leaves your lips is unexpected even to you, but you do little to suppress it once it slips. “You were trying to compliment me?” Bewildered, of course. If that was his idea of a compliment... well, maybe you had him pegged wrong.

“No. I just... I noticed, so I said it,” Namjoon is quickly realizing that's not the best answer in trying to mend things. Even though you tried to act as if you didn't care, it was obvious to him that his words held some gravity to you. That it bothered you to hear that from him, he could see through your entire act.

Calling you out on it would just lead to more mess, though. “I'm not saying you're not that, we both know you are. I just shouldn't have judged you on it. You're a lot more,” He had misjudged you when you first met, assumed that there weren't that many layers to you. But he was so wrong.

You were complicated and sensitive and extremely loving. And he enjoyed discovering every new aspect of you the closer he got to you. All things that had him so taken with you. He wanted to learn more, he wanted to try and figure things out. Hated how quickly the flame went out. He wanted that back.

“Yeah?” It's hard to mask the smile that fights its way onto your lips. “What am I?” Honestly, you don't want to sound as hopeful as you feel, but you can't help it. To hear, finally, what he really thinks of you... and maybe what else has been going on in his mind. What has been blocking him from you?

But Joon is terrible on the spot and is quickly clamming up under your gaze. The list he had created mere moments ago fleeting from his memory, only one word behind. And it's not the right one. “Pretty. I mean...” Desperately trying to search for the right words, but you're already rolling your eyes.

“Well, look who's superficial now.” You scoff, but you don't sound mad. Playful even. The teasing tone that he's grown used to in these past few weeks. It has him thinking, maybe he might still have a chance. “I know I'm pretty. And I know I'm spoiled and self-centered. But, I also know I'm intelligent. Outgoing. Kindhearted.” You tick each characteristic on your fingers. “You didn't care about any of that. Didn't even care to mention it,”

“I know. I'm sorry.” The two of you needed to talk, he's only now realizing how badly. There were so many things that he needed to tell you and in turn, so many things that he wanted to hear from you. If you weren't going to be together, at least you could clear the air. At least both of you could do without the confusion weighing over your hearts.

And it had to be now, no more of this waiting around bullshit. He's already lost two weeks of potentially being with you. He was done screwing around. “Should we go somewhere to talk?” 

You don't think there's been a time you were invited to 'go somewhere to talk' and actually talked about anything. It annoys you how easily the words crush your spirit, proving how little control you had over your emotions when it came to him. And to make matters worse, you wanted to go with him.

Whether you were actually talking to correct things or just fooling around as you suspected was his intention. No matter what it was, you wanted to go along with him and that was scared as fuck. Still, you were far from becoming a bobblehead yes-woman at the mere mention of being alone with him.

Keeping your composure was at the top of the list. So you play into it, fingers crawling up his shoulder, to tangle in the hair at the nape of his neck. “You want to sleep with me tonight, huh?” His eyes widen, obviously surprised that you've caught on.

Namjoon is shocked. How you'd get that from wanting to talk to you. Honestly, what went on in that head of yours, he'd love to know. But, while talking to you was at the utmost of importance... there was no way he could deny that being with you like that again would be nice. The moment held residence in his mind since that night and seeing you every day, looking the way you do did not help.

But, was this a test? Was he not supposed to want to sleep with you because your relationship... if it could even be called that, wasn't in the state to be even further complicated by doing such things. Were you testing him?

“What's the right answer to this?”

He loves the way you play with his hair, nails gently scraping against his scalp. “No right answer. It's just what you want,” You're voice is all hushed and sensual, staring up at him through the ridiculously long lashes you've glued on. Which he always finds pretty.

“Uhm. Yes?”

You don't even miss a beat. “Why?”

It had been a test. At least he thinks so, why else would you be asking him why he wanted to sleep with you. He's sure he fucked up, yet again. “No right answer?”

Shaking your head, you smile. And it's a real smile. “No right answer.” Maybe he was wrong? Maybe you just wanted to know?

Joon was hardly doing anything without thinking it through it thoroughly first. He'd overthink into oblivion if it was possible. And like he wanted to know why you liked him, a question that you had fumbled, thinking it was a joke – you wanted to know why he wanted to sleep with you. Didn't really care for the answer, it would change much.

You just wanted to know.

“I like the way you look in your dress,” He's confessing because it's the truth. “And your waist feels good in my hands... you smell so sweet, and...” And I miss you. He can't seem to get his lips to form the words, the ambiguity of our situation holding him back. He didn't want to be the only one out in the wind.

Curious, you prompt. “And?”

“And, I want you.” He figures that should suffice. Doesn't give way to anything deeper that might scare you off. You can want someone without longing for them, right? Although, he did, very much long for you.

That was a conversation to be had at another time, though, because you're grinning. Leaning up on your toes to press a soft kiss to his cheek and he swears he feels his heart leap from his chest. And as quickly as you closed in on him, you're back away, with a mischievous look in your eye.

Fingers dipping into the cleavage of your dress and he's not ashamed to admit that amount of attention he pays to them until you're presenting a key from your breast, extending it out to him.

“My rooms on the top floor. I'll meet you up there,” First, you've got to say goodnight to Hyungwon. You try not to look so excited when you walk away, even though it's buzzing from your pores. It was weird. Feeling this hopeful by having a man up to your room, it certainly wast' the first time.

But, Namjoon wasn't any ordinary man. He was different in ways you could no describe. You liked him and there was something there. You knew it, you could feel it. And no matter how cool he tried to act. You're sure he could feel it too.

MAY 23RD, 2020 | 22:11

You find Hyungwon just as he's leading a pretty girl to his car. The slight stumble in his step giving way to how many drinks he's had tonight. He grins when he sees you, leaning down to plant a kiss on your cheek that earns you a scowl from the girl beside him. Wait till she found out you were his girlfriend.

In no mood to spoil their night, you're quick with your goodbye. Letting him know that you'd be fine to find your own way home, which he quickly meets with his suspicions of you going back inside to meet Namjoon. A lady never tells, so he's whooping with excitement when you confirm it.

He's kissing you before slipping into the back seat of the car, the girl following behind him. The scowl not once leaving her features as she passes you. Lifting your hand to wave them off, because you can't help yourself. And you have every intention to go find Namjoon in your room, but you're being met with a sad looking Hoseok the moment you turn.

“I have to break up with Ti-Lee,” He's saying before you have the chance to ask him what's wrong. You're rushing to him, an arm wrapping around his shoulders. He looks so torn, on the verge of tears. You feel tears well at the brim of your eyes from the sight. “Why?” Asking, even though you already know the answer.

A frustrated sigh leaves his lips as he wiggles from your grip, the sad look on his face replaced with this hard expression that does not suit him at all. “She doesn't suit me. I should be with someone... else,” His words are so robotic, not even hiding that he's literally repeating exactly what your father has told him.

Now, if it were you, you'd laugh it off with a great big 'fuck you', but Hoseok wasn't like you. So, it wasn't going to be that easy to get him to see, that no he shouldn't. “Uhm. Do you want to be with someone else?”

He had been so excited to introduce Ti-Lee, not only to your family but to anyone who was willing to listen. Anyone with eyes could see how smitten the boy was with her and you knew your brother, it wasn't easy to grasp and keep his attention.

And he knew that too. Never has he met someone like his girlfriend. He had no idea it would end up like this when they first met, either. Had been prepared to sum it up to nothing more than a casual hook up, but then he was left wanting and wondering. Wondering what she was doing, how she was doing, if she was thinking about him, how she'd feel to know that he was thinking about her.

It was sudden, the way he fell for her. In the middle of his busy life, where he swore he didn't have time for anything else. And then she was stepping in and it was like he couldn't really enjoy anything else. “No.”

“Then what the fuck are you talking about!?”

You see the annoyance wash over his features, shifting into anger. No doubt replaying the conversation he must've just had. But just as soon as it appears, it's gone. “Dad said it would be in my best interest if-”

With a firm shake of your head, you're cutting him off. “He doesn't care about your best interest, Hoseok.” It was about time he flat out heard it. That man didn't care about anyone but himself and he had everyone, even his own son fooled. But not you. “What could be wrong with Ti-Lee?”

“She doesn't even have a real job,” He's saying, but he doesn't mean it. The words don't even sound like his, because you know for a fact your brother doesn't care about things like that. “That wasn't a problem to you before. What's wrong with Ti-Lee?”

He's offering up another recycled reason on your father's list of unsuitables. “She could be with me for my money,” You actually laugh at that one. The both of you knew how to sniff out money-hungry people trying to nuzzle into your lives. There's no way he'd let Ti-Lee get this close if he thought that was the case.

But, you point out for his sake. “She makes her own money. What's wrong with Ti-Lee?”

You're more than ready to poke holes through any of his bullshit reasons on why he shouldn't be with this girl. Reasons that you know he doesn't even believe himself. A loud groan leaves his lips, hands pushing through his hair.

“Nothing's wrong with her! She's perfect but... but, I have to break up with her, Yn. You wouldn't understand,” You're actually the only person in the entire world that would understand. And also the only person in the entire world that can honestly tell him that it wouldn't be worth it.

Back when you tried to earn your father's affection or even a few words of praise. Anything. You tried so hard, but every last one of your efforts were met with nothing. Absolutely nothing. Not even a second glance. It didn't take you long to put together that nothing really impressed your father, so might as well enjoy yourself if he was going to scowl at everything.

Hoseok has yet to realize this, but he'd never really be happy until he stopped being so compliant. “No, that's not fair. I won't let you do it.” Putting your foot down literally, which may look childish... but you mean business. “You like her! Like actually like her. You don't like anyone, Hoseok. That's not fair.”

“Come on, do you really think dad would have m do anything he didn't think was best?” Was he brainwashed? What parent would so deliberately stand in the way of their kid's happiness and claim that it's in their best interest? That wasn't parenthood. Like at all.

It was a fucking dictatorship. “Hobi,” You've gotta reach to grasp his shoulders as you speak, eyes trained on his. “Dad doesn't give a shit about you.” Speaking slowly in hopes that the words will penetrate through his rose-colored glasses.

He's knocking your hands off with a scoff and a roll of his eyes. “What? Now you're being ridiculous.” Right, how could he not give a shit about him? That was his favorite after all. Of course, all of his shits were given and served directly to him. Dumbass.

“I'm serious! He only gives a fuck because you fit into his perfect plan. Successful rapper, more than ready to take over. The second something doesn't fit, he's cutting it out. Regardless of how it makes you feel. Why weren't you able to start your clothing line?” He had spent weeks meeting up with designers and artists, creating the basis of the brand he'd name after his very first album.

And right when things were starting to take off, it was being decided that he was spending too much time on things of no value. That he should be more focused on making music rather than trying to appeal to his fans with flashy things. The fact that he was having the most fun didn't matter. Making music. Money for the company.

That. That was more important.

“Because it wasn't a good idea.” And Hoseok had himself convinced that it was his idea to quit. Didn't even fight it when things started tumbling down, just went along with it like he always did.

You had bugged him for weeks about it but gave up after you realized you weren't getting anywhere. He was fucking brainwashed. “No, because it wasn't apart of the plan. So he made sure it didn't happen. He's got you under his thumb, Hobi. Wake up!”

He's getting mad and you can see it. But he has no idea where to direct it. You make sense and he hates that you do. Yet, he can't bring himself to believe that his dad would be setting him up for anything but success. He was his prodigy. It's always been that way, so why now would it be any different?

You were wrong. “No. You don't know what you're talking about. It might be that way for you, Yn. But you're a fuck up. What do you expect? You can't clump us together.” His words cut deeper than he intends. And you find yourself stepping back from him, blinking through the heaviness behind your eyes.

“I'm not a fuck up,” You don't even sound like yourself, all weak and wounded.

His words are fast. “Yes, you are. Every chance you get, you fuck up. And just because you've been keeping your shit lately doesn't change anything. Does it?” He was mad at you and all you were trying to do was help him. 

All you ever did was try and help him. Because he was too stupid to see things as they were. Convinced that everything was perfect and you both had such a great dad.. all you needed to do was clean up your act. Be better and he'll treat you as well as he treats me. When that wasn't the case at all.

It's almost laughable, how little he knew about the man he idolized. “That's funny. The only reason why I've been 'keeping my shit' is because of you! Your fucking dad threatened me with you. Told me if I were to make another mistake he'd tank your album. Oh, but he cares about you, right? Why would he leave that in the hands of a fuck up?” 

The rejection is instant, dismissing your words with a shake of his head. “You're lying.” He concludes. Not seeing any other outcome to this. What you were saying couldn't be true. There's no way his own dad would gamble on his work. No way.

“I don't lie and you know that. Let's go ask him,” Voice sounding a bit too chipper for the circumstance, but this was a long time coming.

Reaching for his hand, you're tugging him back into the hall, leading him straight to the table where your father sits. Completely forgetting about Namjoon waiting for you upstairs.

— daughter of the ceo of the biggest record label, it’s obvious she’d get whatever and whoever she wants. but what happens when she’s meeting the one person that refuses to play into her spoiled brat act?

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[staysaneathome]

Time for Dinner

The door opens.

The door opens.

Uncle Jon’s door opens.

Robbie stares at the gap, gobsmacked.

Mum’s door never opened. No matter how much they pleaded, or tugged, or hammered, or cried, Mum’s door didn’t open. Mum isn’t here anymore so her door won’t open. Can’t open. It never opened.

Uncle Jon’s door opened. Is open.

Robbie can’t breathe.

Almost of its own volition, their hand reaches out to push against the door, slightly harder.

The door swings further open, with a raspy creeeak.

Through the gaps in the boards, Robbie can barely make out the gloomy interior of Uncle Jon’s room.

Their heart feels like it’s about to beat out of their chest.

How?

How can it be open?

Their brain is struggling to comprehend it, even as they duck to try and slip between two of the lowest boards. Their foot catches on the lowest one, which tumbles off the frame with a clatter, its nails half-sticking out and bent oddly.

Robbie freezes, and then carefully pulls it just inside the door, so someone won’t step on it if they pass by.

It’s dark, in Uncle Jon’s room. The only light comes from the door behind them.

From what little they can see, it’s a very big room, like Auntie Melanie’s and Petra’s. Dozens upon dozens of bookshelves line the circular walls as far as the eye can see, all filled with yellowing folders stuffed full of papers and a few books, only a few metal cabinets interspersed among them to break up the monotony. There are stairs built into the walls, almost indistinguishable from the bookcases, in some cases incorporating the tops of bookcases into them, spiraling upwards towards a dark shape Robbie can barely make out if they squint, which could be another floor of some kind or the ceiling? A desk and thickly padded chair are the only pieces of actual people furniture they can see—where on earth did Uncle Jon sleep?

Robbie leaves footprints in the dust behind them, and while most of the papers are neatly tucked away in their folders, there are obvious signs of interrupted activity, many piled on top of any flat surface available or squirreled away in odd crevices. There are even some torn pieces scattered about on the floor by the desk.

It feels…sort of wrong for them to be in here? Like it does if Auntie Daisy or Auntie Melanie invite them into their rooms, or if they happen to catch a small glimpse from Grandma Gertrude’s room from the outside.

Forbidden.

Robbie takes a deep breath, fingers drumming at the sides of their neck.

Okaay, okay, this is—this is fine. They’re fine! They’re just not, not going to think about that anymore, or how Uncle Jon’s door is open when Mum’s never did, or, or anything else that will leave them curled up in a gibbering heap!

Instead, they’re going to do Something Productive. Auntie Basira and Auntie Georgie are always telling them it’s important to channel their emotions into Something Productive. Take rational stock and look on the bright side of a situation.

So, it looks like whoever was in here last left in a hurry. And given this is Uncle Jon’s room, that should mean it was Uncle Jon who did that. So there may be some clues here that may say where he went, or why he left, or even how to fix the cracks!

They approach the desk and turn over one of the sheets of paper shoved into the corner.

There’s a very pretty, very detailed drawing of Mx. Cel on it, done in what looks like black ink. They’re holding an empty goldfish bowl up to one eye and staring into it mournfully.

Underneath the picture, there’s a short sentence:

Celiquillithon Sidebottom will lose their fish within six weeks.

Robbie blinks.

They put down that paper and pick up another sheet under it, a sneaking suspicion forming in their head.

This one shows a drawing of who they think is Dr. Smith, though his face is so swollen it’s hard to tell, sitting in front of a plate of food while Mr. Oscar, their daughter, and lots of other people stare at him in horror. Under it, it says:

Dr. Zolf Smith will have an allergic reaction after eating his birthday cake.

Robbie gives a subdued wiggle. So they were right—these are Uncle Jon’s visions! Or at least, what’s left behind after he makes them.

They begin pouring over the other papers, looking for any mentions of Helen and Michael or cracks or leaving or fixing that they can find. If Uncle Jon had a vision about what was going to happen now, or where would be best for him to run away to…

Robbie’s foot shifts, and catches on something. They look down.

There’s one of the torn scraps of paper.

It has their name on it.

They pick the scrap of paper up, staring intently.

The letters have a weird slick sheen to them, that feels somehow smooth when they run a thumb over it.

No one ever said Uncle Jon had ever made a prophecy about Robbie. Not Auntie Daisy or Basira, not Auntie Melanie or Georgie, not Petra or Alexa or Callum, not even Mr. Martin. Why did no one tell them about this?

Robbie didn’t even know Uncle Jon knew their name. He wasn’t there when they chose it for themselves after they woke up, after all. Wasn’t there when they started tentatively asking everyone to call them it.

A sinking feeling begins pooling inside of them.

Maybe…maybe the reason no one told them was that no one knew. The door was boarded up after all. No one’s been here except…except…

But why would Uncle Jon tear up a prophecy about them? There are lots and lots of sheets here recording loads of bad things happening to nearly everyone in town—why is this one the only one that was…?

Clearing space on Uncle Jon’s desk is mechanical.

So is gently setting down the scrap of paper, before turning to pick up another one that’s gone under the chair.

Grabbing more and more of them, hunting down every last shred, frantically placing them on the desk, twisting them this way and that, until the torn edges fit together like puzzle pieces, desperately reassembling it as terror and dread war within them, until—!

There is a picture on the sheet of paper.

It shows Robbie, without the scarf they always wear to cover up the marks on their cheeks and neck that Grandma Gertrude hates, staring sightlessly out at the world.

Behind them, huge, jagged cracks consume every inch of Michael and Helen, their foundations clearly seconds away from crumbling.

Below that is a clear, concise message:

Robbie Robinson will cause the destruction of the magic.

It’s…

It’s them?

It’s their fault?

It’s their fault.

It’s all their fault.

All their fault, all their fault, all their fault, all their fault, all their fault, all their fault, all their fault, all their fault, all their fault, all their fault, all their fault, all their fault, all their fault, all their fault, all their fault, all their fault, all their fault, all their fault, all their fault, all their fault, all their fault, all their fault, all their fault, all their fault, all their fault, all their fault, all their fault, all their fault, all their fault, all their fault, all their fault, all their fault, all their fault, it’s all their faULT—!

There’s the jangle of Helen’s tiles, rippling against each other outside the door. Someone’s coming.

Robbie distantly blinks away some of the haze.

How did they end up on the floor? They’re sure they were standing just a moment ago…

There’s a tingling numbness in their fingers. Inside their head, the refrain of it’s you, it’s because of you, it’s all your fault is hammering like a drum.

They, they need to get up. They need to get away, before they can hurt anyone any more than this, before someone comes and finds them in here, realizes what they’ve found, what they’ve done, are doing, will do, and start hating them for it—!

A large shadow eclipses the light from the doorway.

There’s a grunt of effort as they duck between the boards and into the room

“Robbie?” Mr. Martin asks. “How did—what are you doing here?”

They’re torn for a minute between impulses. To run deeper into the ruined room, to hide away forever where they can never hurt anyone else ever again, before he gets angry with them, before he starts to hate them, or...

They fling themselves at him in a hug, trembling violently, desperately.

“Hey, hey, hey, what’s the matter?” Mr. Martin’s hands hug them closer, before he pulls back and tilts their head up to look at him, tucking a curl behind their ear. “What’s going on, duck, what’s wrong?”

They try to tell him, they do, but their hands can’t stop shaking, and the right signs won’t come, no matter how hard they try to concentrate, and, and—

And all they can do in the end is point to the desk where Uncle Jon’s prophecy about them is.

Mr. Martin steps around them, to where the reassembled pieces of paper lie.

Robbie watches his back tense. He sucks in a sharp breath through his nose.

He wheels around to stare at them, eyes wide with something they’re afraid to name.

Robbie can’t help flinching, curling in on themselves.

“Mr. Martin?” They sign tentatively.

He blinks. Something like his normal self comes back into his eyes.

“Right.” He says. “Right, sorry, erm.”

He casts another glance at the paper, and gives a strained, nervous, laugh. Next thing Robbie knows, they’re being pulled into a tight hug.

They hug back, as though if just by holding on hard enough, everything will be made okay. This will all go away and everything will be normal again.

“Right.” Says Mr. Martin, pulling back and squeezing Robbie’s shoulders. “Right, okay, here’s what we’re going to do.”

He gathers up the scraps of paper, turning them back into a muddled pile. After shuffling them around, he divides the pile in half, stuffing some into his own pockets, and others into Robbie’s.

“The Lukases are here.” He’s muttering as he works, hands quick and brow furrowed. “So we can’t do anything until after dinner. Too noticeable otherwise. We’ll go back downstairs, put in our appearances, what have you, but. After…do you think if you dropped from the Nursery window, you’d feel safe with me catching you? It shouldn’t be any higher than the tree today…”

Robbie stares at him.

Dazed, they slowly sign, “Why would I need to go out of the window?”

Mr. Martin leans down to briskly brush the dust off their knees. “Well, it’d be less conspicuous than leaving through the front door, for one thing, and—”

Robbie feels like ice is sliding down their back.

The only thing they can get their now trembling hands to sign is, “Leave?”

Mr. Martin looks up at them, eyes big and sad.

He reaches out as if to grab one of their hands, but changes course at the last minute and loosely cups one of their elbows instead.

“Robbie…” He sighs, heavily, then looks them in the eyes again. “I…I don’t think it would be safe for you to stay here. Not with them. Not when the magic is. Is so important, to your grandmother. I am scared of what they’ll do to you, if they find out about this.”

“What they’d do to me?” His hand is warm on their elbow, but doesn’t get in the way of signing too much. “Why would they do something? They’re my family. I love them.”

Mr. Martin’s face hardens. “They were Jon’s family too. And he loved them. More than anything else in the world. But that didn’t keep him from vanishing after your door-opening happened.”

It feels like the bottom has dropped out of something inside them.

“But Auntie Melanie said it was right after her wedding that he left.” They sign.

Mr. Martin gives them a not unkind Look. “Unlike what some people in the village’ll tell you, your cousin Alexa wasn’t born until after Melanie and Georgie were married. And she’s the eldest of all of you, isn’t she?”

Robbie nods slowly

Hang on. If that’s the case, then how could Uncle Jon have given Petra and Alexa their prophecies if he’d already gone after Auntie Melanie’s wedding?

Did Auntie Melanie lie to them?

“Jon was still here when your door-opening…happened.” Mr. Martin tells them. “He was here, even when word got out that Agnes and Jack were leaving with Andy. But the next day, he never turned up to see them off.”

He wrings his hands together, looking down at the encircled ring finger of his left hand. “And he wouldn’t have just…just gone like that. Not when. When…”

Robbie waits.

Mr. Martin exhales heavily, shaking his head. “And no matter what anyone asked, the family just. Wouldn’t. Say. A Word. About what happened to him? No matter how c-close they were to him, or how much they cared about him—! But, but if, if he’d seen this, and decided it was for the best to leave and hide the evidence so no one could ever find out, or. Or.”

He’s trembling.

Robbie reaches out, tentatively squeezes his shoulder. They resolutely don’t think about what Mr. Martin could’ve possibly meant by “Or”.

“There aren’t any pictures of you in this house.” They almost don’t catch his faint mumble. “Not, not of you now. At least they can’t take away the pictures of Jon, proof he was here, he existed, but you? It’d be so—so easy— I can’t—I won’t. I won’t.”

He sucks in a breath, shaking his head like he’s warding off the dregs of a bad dream.

Mr. Martin smiles up at them.

It’s the same gentle smile he gave them when he first invited them to the back of the bakery to see how the bread was made. When he told them not to listen to Mr. Macguffingham’s comments about why their Mum and Dad left. Whenever he brings out sliced cherries for them both to snack on during the lull in the afternoon rush. The one that makes Robbie feel like everything may turn out okay after all.

“Robbie, if we go, I could have Tim give us a lift and we’d be out of the valley before midnight. And, and Sasha knows some people, from all the travelling she’s done, so it wouldn’t be hard for us to keep moving. We—we could even find Jon, if he’s out there, wouldn’t you like that? Go find him, and, and tell him we’ve beaten this silly vision. Can’t break the magic or Michael and Helen if you’re not here to do it, right?”

They nod, tentatively.

Mr.Martin stands and squeezes their shoulders. “Just—just think about it, okay? But whatever you do, don’t say anything about this to anyone, d’you understand? Not your aunts, your cousins, especially not your grandmother. This is our secret. Nobody has to know.”

There’s a creak from the doorway behind them.

Alexa stares at the two of them. Her face shifts rapidly between Uncle Jon’s, Mr. Martin’s and Robbie’s.

Robbie and Mr. Martin stare back.

“Alexa! We’re sitting up!” Comes Auntie Basira’s voice from downstairs.

Alexa’s face changes to one that Robbie almost doesn’t recognize, fish-eyed and frizzy and almost-but-not-quite before it settles back to her usual perfectly made up and styled self. She almost looks like a doll, with how perfectly everything is in place.

Her eyes are still wide and alarmed though.

Mr. Martin takes a step forward. “Ah, Alexa—”

Her eyes snap to him, eyebrows drawing down as an expression of outrage blossoms, and she opens her mouth—

“Alexa!” Comes Grandma Gertrude’s voice from downstairs, making both her and Robbie tense automatically. Grandma Gertrude’s voice isn’t too loud or angry at all, but they both recognize the warning all the same. I’ve called for you once. Don’t make me have to do it again.

She darts forward and grabs them by their wrist, tugging them back through the door to Uncle Jon’s room. Robbie stumbles and nearly hits their head on one of the lower boards.

“You can’t—!” She hisses as she pulls them along, throwing nervous glances between them and the hallway to downstairs. “I can’t, not right now, just—we’re going to talk about this, okay?!”

A chill goes through Robbie. Their heels dig into the tiles almost of their own accord.

She’s going to tell everyone. And then they’ll know it’s all your fault. They’ll be angry with you and they’ll hate you and—

Alexa tugs harder as a counterpoint, and they lose their footing—!

A large hand catches their shoulder, steadying them and giving a gentle squeeze. They look up to see Mr. Martin giving them his reassuring smile, even though his brow is set.

“S’alright.” He murmurs. “I won’t let anything happen to you, duck. I promise.”

Robbie closes their eyes for a moment, trying to make themself believe it.

When they open, they see Alexa staring back at them, face twisted with something Robbie’s never seen on there before.

It doesn’t even go away when they start following her again, Mr. Martin’s hand still on their shoulder as they walk in an odd little procession, squeezing at random intervals.

The gold on Auntie Daisy’s door flickers like a guttering candle as they pass it.

Something inside Robbie hardens.

They can’t. They can’t just stand by while their family’s suffering, not if it means their presence here is making the magic break. If they leave with Mr. Martin, it might—might buy everyone some time at least. Just enough for them and Mr. Martin to work out where Uncle Jon went and get him to come back and help fix everything.

Uncle Jon’s visions aren’t set in stone, Mr. Martin said. So there has to be a way to change this one. There has to be.

There has to be.

Mr. Lukas is even bigger than Mr. Martin, and he peers down at them as if they’re an exotic object he doesn’t know what to do with. “So, which power do you have again?”

Mr. Martin’s hand tightens on their shoulder before he lets go, and Alexa’s smile is brittle. “Ah, Robbie didn’t, um. Receive a gift.”

Mr. Lukas’ face brightens and he snaps his fingers. “Ah, yes, that’s right! You’re the broken one!”

Robbie can’t keep from flinching at that. The smaller, neatly tailored man next to Mr. Lukas slaps a hand to his forehead.

“Really, Peter?” He steps forward to shake Robbie’s hand himself, though he’s looking at Grandma Gertrude and Alexa as he speaks. “Please excuse him, his years of avoiding social interaction have stunted his manners irreparably.”

“You’ve never complained about that before, Elias.” Mr. Lukas grumbles, curling an arm around Mr. Elias(?)’s waist.

Frey Lukas is just as tall and broad as when they’ve seen xem with Petra at the market, though xey at least look at them when xe shakes their hand as though they’re meeting for the first time. “How are you, Robbie? How’s Emil doing?”

Robbie ducks their head and seesaws their hand back and forth. Their cheeks heat almost absentmindedly.

Callum hangs over their shoulder. “Aw, c’mon Robbie, don’tcha want tell us ev-ry-thing about your little boyfriend?”

He dances out of the way of the elbow they aim for his ribs with a laugh, his shadow changing to resemble Emil and making kissy faces at theirs. They want to be mad at him, annoyed like they always are when he teases them about this.

But they can’t keep themselves from thinking about how this might be the last time they ever see Callum, properly.

And that just makes them want to curl up in a corner, or hug him tight and never let go.

So they do, squeezing until he’s going slightly red from their grip and wriggling one arm out from where it’s pinned to his side to shove their face away so he doesn’t realize it’s not just playfighting.

Auntie Basira shoots them a disapproving look as they sit down next to Alexa.

Even they know their behavior probably isn’t okay in front of strangers, but it’s hard to remember that when the thought of this is the last time you’ll see ever your family is thrumming in their head.

Still, they quickly sign, “Sorry,” to her as Auntie Daisy finishes moving the serving platters from the sideboard at the head of the table to the table itself.

She squeezes Auntie Basira’s arm as she sits and Auntie Basira’s face softens. She gives Robbie a small nod.

They try to smile back, even if it feels shaky.

Auntie Georgie’s busy thanking Mr. Martin for his help, but he still takes the time to shoot Robbie a reassuring smile even as he prepares to leave.

Then Alexa stands up.

“Mama, why doesn’t Mr. Blackwood stay for dinner with us?” She says. “We have the extra chairs, and it’d be a shame if he helped cook all of this and didn’t get to have any.”

Auntie Georgie stops up short, looking quizzical. Mr. Martin’s smile has frozen on his face.

“Well, I mean, if he’s got nothing else to do…”

“Oh, no, no, I couldn’t possibly,” Mr. Martin replies quickly. “Tim and I have, uh, have a thing? Later, so—”

“Oh! Didn’t you hear?” Alexa asks, the picture of innocence. “Sasha told me earlier she and Mr. Stoker are having a date night tonight.”

She leans forward slightly, voice lowering to a conspiratorial tone. “I think she might be planning to propose.”

There’s a chorus of “aaws” from around the table, though Mr. Elias mutters, “She can do much better, but I suppose there’s no accounting for taste.”

“St-still, this is a, a family thing.” Mr. Martin insists, edging for the door, “I couldn’t possibly intrude—”

“But we’ve known you for so long,” Alexa talks over him. “And you’ve been such an honest and steadfast friend that you’re practically family, isn’t he Grandma?”

Grandma Gertrude pauses by her seat at the head of the table.

Her smile mirrors that of the man in the portrait behind her, the one who everybody tells Robbie is their grandpa.

“How thoughtful of you, Alexa. Of course, you’re very welcome to join us for dinner, Mr. Blackwood.” She answers, in that tone which means it’s less suggestion than order. “Des, why don’t you go get the spare chair and sit opposite me?”

Des makes a small noise of dismay from where he’s sitting next to Robbie. “But I wanna sit next to—!”

“Des.” Grandma Gertrude shoots him a quelling look.

Des ducks his head, but he’s clearly still upset, muttering small snatches of sentences to himself like, “but it’s my chair,” and “s not fair, not fair.”

Mr. Martin helps him get the chair at the end of the table situated and offers him a weak grin.

Des glares at him in response.

Even when Auntie Melanie pats his hand consolingly and they try to shoot him a friendly thumbs up, the disgruntled pout on his face doesn’t fade.

“Now,” Grandma Gertrude says serenely, like this isn’t happening. “Help yourselves everyone.”

Mr. Martin shoots them a quick grimace as he passes the water jug down. Alexa, meanwhile, lets a victorious slip of a grin dawn on her face before she turns back to Frey, the picture of a perfect hostess.

It dawns on Robbie as to why while they’re spooning a chicken breast onto their plate. If Mr. Martin is stuck here, that means he can’t slip off to prepare for their leaving until dinner is over. And at any point in time during this period, Alexa could just. Just tell what she overheard to everyone.

Robbie can’t taste anything they put in their mouth as everyone begins to eat.

They try to tell themself that Alexa would never, could never, she’s their cousin, she loves them. She may have said they’ll talk about it, but she wouldn’t just—just out them like that. Not in front of the Lukases, at the very least.

Yeah, maybe she’s tattled on them or Callum or Petra when she’s caught them successfully sneaking a snack before dinner in the past, but that was very, very rarely, and only if they didn’t share with her first. She wouldn’t just, just blurt it out. That’s not who she is.

But they can’t help staring at Alexa, as Frey tries to engage her in conversation about gardening or flowers, flinching every time the quickly emptying bowl of rice or half-full jug of water is passed in front of them, somehow sure that every time she vanishes from their view that she’ll have somehow told all without saying a word.

It doesn’t help that Alexa is doing the same.

She’s not as obvious, but Robbie’s watching her, so they can tell that she keeps glancing at them out of the corner of her eye like they might vanish at any instant, that her smiles and laughter grows more brittle the longer dinner goes on, that she keeps losing her place in the funny stories about her job at Mx. Cel and Miss James’ bookstore that she’s trying to regale their guests with.

Petra leans forward across from them, mouthing, “Robbie, quit it.”

They shoot her a frazzled look. What, exactly, are they supposed to quit? They’re not even doing anything, for all that they feel about to jitter out of their skin, antsy, like dozens of small legs are marching into their pocket and back out again.

Wait.

What?

They look down to see a line of ants finish marching down their chair.

Ducking down further lets them see there are loads and loads of insects scuttling around down there. Robbie didn’t even know there were that many insects near Helen and Michael, let alone inside. They’re avoiding most people’s chairs and generally staying out of sight.

Except for Robbie and Mr. Martin’s places. There are several black ants happily trundling away from them towards the end of the table…

Carrying the torn up pieces of Uncle Jon’s vision.

They can feel their eyes bulging in horror.

“Robbie!”

They jerk at the sound of their name, banging the back of their head on the underside of the table.

Auntie Daisy looks concerned as they hiss, while Mr. Martin fusses and tries to look at it. “You okay, kiddo? What were you doing down there?”

Their mind races and they hesitate for a moment before they sign, “I dropped something.”

Auntie Daisy’s face clears. “Oh, did you? It might’ve slid over to this side, let me have a look—”

NO

They lunge for the closest thing to them, setting it down firmly on the table so Auntie Daisy doesn’t look underneath it.

“Found it!” They sign victoriously, feeling a wide grin stretch their cheeks. “Guess I must’ve just missed it, sorry about that!”

“…You thought you dropped the candle?” Auntie Melanie asks, one eyebrow raised.

Robbie blinks down at the candle in its fancy holder that’s now by their elbow. “…Yes?”

Everyone’s staring at them. They slide down in their seat a bit.

Mr. Martin claps them on the shoulder, smiling genially. “Well that’s a good reason to look, isn’t it? Wouldn’t, wouldn’t want a fire to start or anything on such a lovely night!”

They nod frantically along with him.

Auntie Melanie trades a Look with Auntie Georgie as she sits back in her chair. Auntie Basira shoots them her “no funny business” face as she delicately bites down on a portion of rice. Callum mouths “seriously?” at them as they go to put the candle back in the center of the table.

At the head of the table, Grandma Gertrude pours Mr. Lukas and Mr. Elias a lot more wine with a wry chuckle.

They try to inconspicuously glance down to see where the ants are.

Des seems to have put the empty bread platter on the floor by his chair, for his insects can come and help themselves. Indeed, the ants are depositing the scraps of Uncle Jon’s vision down and picking up crumbs to take away with them, like some sort of odd trade.

Des, thankfully, seems so focused on trying to cut his chicken into bite sized pieces that he hasn’t looked down and noticed the ‘gifts’ his little friends have left for him.

Robbie carefully, casually, knocks their fork onto the ground and kicks it under the table.

“Oh no, my fault, I’ll get it!” They’re not sure the signs were even legible with how fast they ran through them, as they duck down under the table as quick as they can.

They’re careful to try to avoid squishing Des’ insects as they reach out and pull the platter towards them—!

“Robbie? What are you doing?”

They jump, whipping the arm with the platter behind them and accidentally cracking their head on the table again. It feels like the tray hit something, maybe? But their skull aches.

Des’ face falls. “Oh no! Are you okay?”

They give a pained grin, and groping behind them, pick up the fork and waggle it for show.

“Oh, you dropped your fork?” Des says. He giggles when they nod. “That’s silly, Robbie! Even I don’t drop things anymore!”

He laughs when they pretend to pout and sneak a few fingers to tickle his side. A chair screeches back next to them.

Mr. Martin looks like he’s haloed from behind as he smiles at them from where he’s now kneeling. “Oh dear, I’ll get you a, a new fork from the kitchen, okay? Maybe some ice too if you need it.”

He’s got the platter with Uncle Jon’s vision held in one hand, carefully angled so that no one can see its contents. He doesn’t wink, but he’s got his reassuring smile on.

Robbie feels relief spread through them as they accept the hand he offers them to climb out from under the table and sit back down.

They give an embarrassed smile to everyone else as one hand comes up to rub the back of their head. Mr. Elias is staring at them like they’re an amusing creature doing some sort of trick, Grandma Gertrude and Mr. Lukas are studiously ignoring them as they talk, Callum’s openly snickering, Petra is mouthing something at them which ends with “seriously Robbie, I’m fine, stop,” Auntie Basira still looks suspicious even when Auntie Daisy squeezes her arm, Auntie Melanie is getting Des to actually eat his food now he’s done cutting it up, Auntie Georgie’s telling Mr. Martin where he can find the ice in the kitchen, and Alexa—

“Alexa?” Frey asks, a furrow between xir brows. “Are you…is everything alright?”

“Hm?” Alexa says, distracted. “Oh, of, of course everything is alright! Why’d you ask?”

“Well, forgive me for saying so, but you’ve seemed a little, ah. Preoccupied?” Frey fiddles with xir napkin as xey glance up at her through xir eyelashes. “I, I just wanted you to know if there’s anything on your mind, anything at all, I’ll, I’ll be glad to listen.”

“Oh, no, it’s, it’s fine, I promise.” Alexa laughs nervously as she spears another bite of chicken. “Nothing for you to worry yourself about.”

Frey Lukas frowns, stretching out a hand to cover Alexa’s. “Of course I’m worried. I love you, Petra.”

Alexa promptly chokes on her latest mouthful.

Across the table, Petra snorts her drink through her nose.

There’s a stunned silence from everyone.

Mr. Lukas turns to his husband, grinning. “You know, dinner parties are much more interesting than I remember!”

Frey blanches, stuttering, “Oh my gosh, I am—I am so sorry, Alexa, I have, I have no idea what came over me, I swear, I—”

“It’s fine.” Grandma Gertrude says sternly with what Robbie thinks is meant to be a sweet smile. “Slip of the tongue. Already forgotten, right, Alexa?”

Alexa nods repetitively, smile stretched abnormally wide, one eyelid twitching slightly. She lets out a very high, very strained version of her laugh that frightens Robbie a little.

“No, no, no, it’s. It’s no problem, really. I mean, I’ve always been a placeholder my whole life, so what’s being one to the person I’m supposed to marry matter?”

Her appearance shifts as she talks, Petra’s dark eyes and braids taking the place of her. Across the table, the real Petra looks unhappy.

“Alexa…” Auntie Georgie says, carefully.

“I mean, it’s not like anyone would want me for me.” She goes on, face changing faster now, voice distorting as she flick-flick-flicks through people like pages in a book.

Petra, Des, Auntie Georgie, Auntie Melanie, Grandma Gertrude, Callum, Auntie Basira, Auntie Daisy, Uncle Jon, Robbie, a woman with long auburn hair, a man with colorful cornrows, a little boy who looks like a mixture of the two of them, all faster than the blink of an eye.

“No, it’s always who it’s most convenient for me to be in the moment, a, a, a substitute for someone else who’s really wanted, the perfect daughter, the one who doesn’t cause trouble, the golden child who can’t show that she doesn’t even know who she is or what she wants, who has to constantly, constantly keep up the act, because we can’t break character now, can we?? Can’t let it show, ev-even if I’m terrified that the baker’s going to, to, kidnap Robbie because they somehow got into Uncle Jon’s room and found that he had a vision had about them and the magic vanishing and Helen and Michael breaking and we can’t stop it, and the enTIRE TOWN IS BASICALLY DOOMED!!”

There’s a moment of silence as Alexa pants, her body now an odd mishmash of traits.

Then all hell breaks loose.

Alexa sways unsteadily in her chair, as her upper body has become too big to balance properly. She tumbles into the nest of strangling figs that have begun sprouting from Petra’s feet in panicked waves with a squeak, even as Petra frantically tries to pull some of them back towards her.

Auntie Daisy and Auntie Basira try to help her get them under control, but Auntie Daisy’s normal strength seems to have deserted her, until she puts a hand on the table to try and steady herself as she yanks and the table splits down the middle with an earsplitting bang!

Callum’s shadows are flaring up all around the room, swallowing up most of the light and occasionally taking the forms of people screaming and running and generally freaking out as he pulls his feet up into his chair to escape the plants. All of this frightens Des, who starts crying, which inspires his insects to try and defend him from what’s making him sad.

This means that Mr. Martin’s face is suddenly swarmed by an entire flock of butterflies, making him cry out and accidentally throw the platter as he attempts to protect himself. The platter gets caught in Auntie Melanie’s now whirlwind of cutlery, fixtures, and serving plates as her shouting for everyone to shut UP so she can CALM DOWN and UNDERSTAND go unheeded, even as Auntie Georgie tries to remind her of her breathing exercises while the Admiral attempts to scale her for safety.

A ladle come flying from the kitchen and catches Frey Lukas right in the nose with an almighty crack!

Xey topple backwards with a cry that has Mr. Lukas and Mr. Elias leaping from their seats to rush to xir aid. Unfortunately, Mr. Lukas doesn’t exactly stop to look where he’s putting his feet and trips over the strangling figs on the floor, falling hard. Mr. Elias, distracted by this and by some of Callum’s shadows, runs right into the swarm of panicked butterflies himself, and beginning to scream.

Grandma Gertrude is yelling, shouting for everyone to calm down and get themselves under control, when the platter nearly smacks her in the face.

Everything freezes.

In the absence of all that racket, the distinctive sounds of plaster and stone splitting can be heard as the cracks grow and spread into the kitchen.

Grandma Gertrude looks at Uncle Jon’s vision.

When she raises her eyes to look at Robbie, they can’t help flinching.

She doesn’t even look surprised, is the thing. Just. Just…

“Petra.” Grandma Gertrude says. “Take your cousin to their room, now. We need to deal with an unwelcome guest.”

Petra is somehow around their side of the table, one of their arms in her hand, vines spiraling down to their wrists. She won’t give them anything more than a weak grimace as she pulls them up and away from the table.

Robbie stares at her, then whips their head around to where Mr. Martin is. No, no, they can’t just leave it like this, they have to explain, have to make sure everyone knows it’s not his fault—!

Before Helen slams the kitchen doors after them, they see Mr. Martin reach for them, even as Auntie Daisy blocks his way.

They don’t think they’ve ever seen him look that scared before.

The door to the nursery is locked.

They know this because when Petra let them go, they lunged for it because they needed to get back down there to explain, only to be met with solid, wooden resistance every time they tugged.

As far as they knew, the nursery door’s never had a lock.

Though, in fairness, it never had any of the cracks that are now snaking along the walls either.

Petra is staring out the window, perched on the sill and eyes distant. She hasn’t looked at them since she quietly asked them to stop pacing a few minutes ago.

They creep over to her now, to try and see what she’s looking at.

They’ve had a lot of time to work out where all the creaky floorboards are in here, after all.

Peering over her shoulder, Robbie can just make out what looks like Mr. Lukas, Mr. Elias and Frey in the garden below.

Mr. Elias has his hands on his hips and looks cross.

His voice floats up to them faintly. “…So you went and got poor Frey engaged to the wrong niece.”

Mr. Lukas has his hands raised, head retreating into his coat like he’s a particularly large tortoise or something. “Last time I was here, there was only the one!”

“Peter, that was fifteen years ago.” Mr. Elias stresses, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Honestly, this is why I keep telling you it is so important to keep abreast of what’s going on outside the manor.”

“Well it’s not like it matters.” Mr. Lukas argues, hands stuffed deep in his pockets. “Not going to be any proposals after that display, are there?”

Mr. Elias shakes his head. “Just. Let’s go home. I need a stiff drink or two.”

He loops his arm through his husband’s and the two of them are actually a fair distance away before Mr. Elias’ voice calls out, “Frey!”

Frey starts, and turns to where xir uncles are. “Oh—go ahead without me! I’ll—I’ll catch up later…”

There’s an unhappy scoff from beside them as Frey turns back to stare up at the house, making Robbie startle.

“Course.” Petra says, burying her face in her knees. “Course they’d want the real girl in the family.”

Robbie blinks, affronted, then flicks her in the forehead.

“Ow!”

They’re sorry they hurt her, but not sorry that they finally got her to look at them so they can tell her, “That’s stupid. You are a real girl, Mr. Lukas is just dumb if he doesn’t know that. Super, mega dumb. And did you miss the bit where Frey said that xey love you? To Alexa’s face?!”

Petra goes as red as she did earlier in the tree.

Robbie can’t help noticing no cacti or flowers sprout in response though.

“Wh—!” She babbles. “Th-that’s, that’s not—!”

Robbie sighs. They glance between the room that’s they’ve grown up in, the cracks, the person standing in the garden, and Petra.

“Look around you.” They sign. “Helen and Michael are falling apart, the magic is going away, I still don’t know how to fix it, and Grandma Gertrude probably doesn’t either, but down there is someone who is in love with you, and I think you’re in love with xem too. Am I wrong?”

Petra’s color deepens even further, but she doesn’t look away.

“It’s scary.” Robbie signs, scooting closer. “It’s probably really scary. But I have no idea what’s going to happen tomorrow, or even an hour from now. And that’s scary enough that it makes things like this not so bad, not when you have a choice about them. Petra, are you just going to let xem walk away again without even talking about it?”

Petra bites her lip, gazing out the window at Frey again. Xey’re still there, staring at the front door longingly.

Petra gives a long, pained groan and stands.

“Fine! Fine. I know what you’re doing, but—fine.” She whirls around and points a finger at their nose, so close they have to cross their eyes to see it. “But! You aren’t going anywhere if I do this, do you hear me?! You. Are. Not. To. Leave. Swear to me, Robbie.”

They nod, drawing a cross over their heart.

Petra’s eyes narrow. “Swear on Grandpa.”

Robbie blinks. They’ve never quite understood why everyone in their family says this when they want someone to take a promise seriously. Everyone but Grandma Gertrude, that is.

Still, they obligingly sign, “I swear on Grandpa I will not leave.”

Petra’s eyes search their face for a few more moments, before she huffs and straightens. “Well. Fine. Good.”

There’s a moment’s pause. A vine tentatively curls up towards them from the trellis under the window.

Petra stares at it like it’s some kind of wild animal. Her hands are trembling.

Robbie reaches up and gently squeezes one, offering a reassuring nod when Petra looks.

She exhales, then steps onto the vine, which lowers her to the garden.

Her graceful descent is slightly ruined when her skirt snags on the bushes planted around the bottom of the house, but at least her stumbling out of the flowerbeds and muffled swearing gets Frey to look up and see her?

They can’t make out what Petra says to Frey, or what Frey says back.

All they know is the two of them are standing across from each other, faces cast in shadow, then they’re running, colliding, clinging and swaying slightly in place, very clearly kissing from the way their heads are angled. Giant, colorful flowers spring into bloom all around them.

Robbie ducks down below the windowsill to give them some privacy and fistpumps.

Well, at least one thing went right tonight.

Now for them to fix all the rest.

They turn around in time to see Helen shunt the chest of drawers in front of the Nursery door.

They don’t stamp their foot, because it’s not nice to take out their frustration on others by stamping on them, but it’s a near thing.

“Oh c’mon.” They sign as they stumble towards it. “Please don’t do this, why are you doing this?”

A drawer comes out and nudges them in the side in recrimination. The corners of the duvet of their bed fold over one another judgmentally, like crossed arms.

It takes Robbie a moment to work out what the two of them are getting at.

“I know Petra made me swear I wouldn’t leave, and I won’t. I’m not going to break that.” They explain. “It’s not my fault she didn’t specify where I wouldn’t leave from.”

There’s a moment of silence.

The Nursery door clicks, like a lock’s been unlatched.

The chest of drawers shoves itself harder against the door in response, disapproval radiating from it in waves.

At least they know Michael’s somewhat on their side in this.

“Look. I know what happened earlier scared everybody.” A squeak of hinges, like a scoff, interrupts them. Robbie continues, “But you heard what the vision said. Me just being here is breaking the magic, and hurting you. And I don’t want that. I want to fix it.”

The lock clicks shut again.

Robbie drags their hands down their face. “Look, I swore I wouldn’t leave, and I won’t! I will not leave this house if you don’t want me to. But I need to figure out where Uncle Jon went, so I can tell Mr. Martin and he can persuade him to come back and help me undo his vision. I’ll throw something telling him what to do out the window if I have to, or ask Des or Petra to help me, just. Please, I just need to work that out and then everything will be okay, and you two will be okay, and not hurting anymore.”

There’s an unsure creak as the chest of drawers shifts and settles.

“I can’t lose you two.” They lean over the chest of drawers so they can press their forehead against the door. “Not if there’s something I can do about it. Just. Please.”

There’s a creak as the press of wood against their forehead vanishes.

They do stumble a bit as the chest of drawers is also yanked out from in front of them and settled back against the wall where it normally lives.

It’s a bit awkward, but they hug the doorframe, before signing “Thank you.”

Michael and Helen’s colors swirl around them, dizzying and bright. Robbie watches as the colors begin to pull away from them, deftly navigating around the cracks slowly enough that they can follow and keep up, leading them and their eyes to see…

Are those…

Are those moths?

Riding. On the rats.

While holding what look to be the scraps of paper from Uncle Jon’s vision.

How is this their life.

Robbie takes a long moment to stare at this little procession. It hurts when they pinch themself, so at least they know they’re not dreaming?

A pointed jangle breaks them out of their stupor, as the tiles ripple around the corner where the moths-riding-rats went.

The moth-riding-rats which are now gone because while Robbie was frozen to the spot, they certainly weren’t.

Robbie thinks a swear word to themself as they scramble after them, running bent double to try and avoid being seen by anyone who might be walking around.

They just manage to catch sight of the rodents again as they slip through the ajar door to Uncle Jon’s room.

Robbie quickly follows after them, making sure to hop over the fallen board inside the door.

They scramble up the first several steps of the winding bookcase-staircase with equal speed to the messengers they’re pursuing.

They begin to flag by the time they reach and pass what Robbie thinks must be the halfway point.

Their speed has drastically decreased by the time they get to the actual halfway point.

Robbie’s not even running anymore when they finally reach the top of the staircase, which does open onto a second floor, bent double and panting while deciding they strongly dislike Uncle Jon’s room.

There is a bed on the upper floor of Uncle Jon’s room, a small one tucked away into a little corner with a curtain half-drawn over it.

So at least he did sleep?

Other than that, this upper level is mostly empty. The light from below is the barest gleam for them to see by.

They can feel some grooves in the floor beneath their feet, so there may be a pattern there? But without any light, there’s no chance of them knowing for sure.

The only other thing here is a large, framed picture. Like the photos Mx. Cel makes, but blown up really big.

It’s hard to make out in the gloom, but Robbie thinks they recognize some of the figures in it. The muscled one to one side looks like Auntie Daisy, the one close to her with a head-covering is likely Auntie Basira, and the spiky-looking one and the soft one on the other side are probably Auntie Georgie and Auntie Melanie. And the smaller one in the center with the candle is definitely Grandma Gertrude.

They don’t recognize any of the other silhouettes in there though. The three remaining adults aren’t the right shape or height to be Petra or Alexa, and the four other figures are too small to be Callum or Des, so who…?

But Robbie has to stop thinking about that when they notice a flicker of movement as one of the rats’ tails slips out of sight behind the painting.

They rush over on tottering legs, feeling around the edges of the frame for a hole where the rats and moths might have escaped to—!

It’s not a hole.

Or rather, it is, but not a little one.

At the press of their fingers, the entire picture comes away from the wall, swinging open like a window shutter and revealing a dark opening behind it.

The entrance opens onto a corridor of wood beams and dust, barely wide enough for Robbie to stand on, none of the decoration and stability that Helen and Michale pride themselves on in the main house or the others’ rooms.

The passage slopes downwards and they can faintly hear the scritch-scritch-scritch of skittering paws race away from where they’re frozen.

Robbie takes a moment they don’t have to shut their eyes and mentally say all of Auntie Basira’s favorite bad words.

And then they step through, and cautiously make their way down the rickety, occasionally wobbly walkway to follow the sounds of the moth-riding-rats.

They don’t know how long they inch, clamber, squeeze, and occasionally hop over holes to make their way forward, following their ears, but it seems like both a very long time and yet no time at all when they suddenly hear a much louder creeeak from ahead of them and look up to see—

Green.

Robbie’s paralyzed, staring at the figure at the end of the passage, transfixed by the sight of that—that—!

The figure turns and flees.

Robbie immediately gives chase.

The figure has longer legs than Robbie, and clearly knows this place well as they duck and weave between wood beams and leap over holes to get away.

But Robbie is smaller and lighter and faster and they’re fueled by a determination that has them scaling planks and wriggling through gaps in hot pursuit.

They know that shade of green.

They don’t know how, why, or where, but they know it.

If only they could just shout something to make that person stop, call out that they don’t want to hurt them or anything, just—!

The boards Robbie’s foot just landed on buckle underneath their weight with an almighty crack!

They can barely blink before they’re falling, hands scrabbling desperately to stop their plummet.

They barely manage to grab onto a scrap of a broken support beam.

The pit below them looks very dark. They can’t see the bottom.

Robbie clings tighter to their lifeline, breath coming in harsh pants.

But even that stops short as they hear a new noise that makes them whip their head up.

The beam they’re hanging onto groans alarmingly again as it bends, splinters peeling away from the wood.

No, no, no, they think, horrified. No, no, please don’t break, please don’t break, I don’t wanna fall, I don’t wanna die, please, somebody help me, help me, please, Mr. Martin, Auntie Daisy, Auntie Melanie, help, somebody, please!

The wood snaps.

Robbie lets out a ragged wheeze as they plummet—!

A pair of large, bony hands are grabbing tight around their wrists.

Robbie opens their eyes to see a man holding onto them, a familiar face tight with exertion and effort.

They clutch back as best they can when the man lets out a pained-sounding grunt and heaves them out of the gap, not letting go until he’s dragged them a few feet forward onto solid ground.

The two of them collapse into a heap on either side of the passage, panting and staring at each other.

“You…” The man who might be Uncle Jon gasps. “Are…very…sweaty.”

Robbie hiccups once. Twice.

They burst into tears.

[muffindaddystyles]

𝑺𝑾𝑬𝑬𝑻 𝑯𝑶𝑹𝑴𝑶𝑵𝑬𝑺?

Summary: Where you're pregnant but clueless and Harry's going feral at your mood swings.

Warning: Fluff. Smut. Angst. Long. dad!Harry.

Pairing: Harry x (fem!reader)

One the dining table surrounded by Jeff and his family were Y/n and Harry. His slender soft hands were gesticulating, heart shaped lips bubbling onto British accent and he cackled loudly but his beautiful laugh didn't caught y/n attention. She rolled the peas in her plate, twiddling with her fork. She never had a liking for peas. But, at the moment in her plate they're disgusting her to pit making her go paler. She just wants a big appetizing spicy meal is it too much to ask?

As, they did business talk she sighed shakily relaxing into her plush chair and when Harry's concentration diverted to her he placed his calloused hand atop her thigh giving it a squeeze.

"What d'ya say, y/n?" He carried a tinge of lust and mischievousness both in his jade eyes and his smirk as he stroked her flesh from under the table.

Believe me y/n is in no mood to be teased at. She glared him with hooded peepers and smacked his hand away, blowing away his irises. Thankful enough everyone was too occupied in their own bubble to hear the stinging 𝘵𝘩𝘸𝘢𝘤𝘬! sound of slap Harry just got because of his antics.

"Heeeeeyyyyyyy." He complained with a twitch of his lips narrowing his eyes to crinkles. Y/n just shrugged giving attention to Jeff's baby sitting beside her.

Harry scoffed quifing his hickorey curls back when he saw how her entire demeanor changed into his usual cheerful lovie the moment she turned to the little girl beside her, his heart swooned into unconditional love as she helped the baby to collect her peas into a large spoon.

Once they were done with this little business dinner where Harry decided whether he should opt for his new movie or not they left for home, because y/n was getting quite antsy.

At the threshold of their home Harry cradled her face kissing her with tongue and wet full mouth. He moaned shamelessly as she palmed his bulging cock slowly. Harry was sliding the straps of her dress down when she shook her head slipping from her heels with the support of his shoulders.

"Not tonight, H." She didn't gave him further explanation instead a painful soft hiss escaped her lungs when the balls of her feet met the wooden floor. Her back and feet are on fire. She's a pro at wearing heels and never feeling achy, this new change's making her want to grunt frustrated with all of her previous 'm-not-feeling-well mood.

Harry's jaw fell to ground at her dismissal. She didn't even glanced back leaving him hard and wrecked into his trousers. He thought for a second maybe she's mad at him for something he has done in past but when he pushed his every funny brain cell to work he couldn't find anything.

She was out like a night bulb till the time Harry brushed his teeth and changed into sweats. His lips quirking up at the slightest of plush-y pout at his lovie's face and he sneaks his forearms underneath her lousy body pulling her closer to his naked chest kissing her pout and smoothing the littlest of frown on her forehead.

Harry groaned in the hot of night wandering hands finding for her in the middle of sheets but he could grasp on nothing but her scent.

Rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand and with an adorable loud yawn he slinged his legs to the foot of bed, going on an adventure to find for his misses.

Every floor-board creaking the weep of sudden alarm, yellow mellow luminosity falling at his feet from the kitchen and he pipped his head from the door frame to have a look of what's happenin' inside.

He shakes his head, the knuckle of his index under the plump of his bottom lip as he took in the beautiful sight of his baby on the floor sitting her butt infront of the wide open refrigerator.

His button up shirt doing nothing to hide her collarbones exposing the rosy flesh of her tits and the nude panties flashing from the bent valley of her knees.

She's gobbling spoonfuls of chocolate ice-cream straight from the tub, an erotica novel perched upon her knee and she looks innocently sexy wearing her baby-pink reading glasses.

Harry clamps his mouth shut from laughing out loud when she tried to drink the melted icecream from the tub and it all splashed onto her face down her chest.

At first she groaned licking it clean still reading the erotica which's causing a pool of arousal in her panties but then a certain dirty page and she threw her head back moaning making Harry gasp a "fuck." in surprise.

He blinked several times, lines pinching at his forehead when the book fell from her hold carelessly and she leaned back a little tracing her sweet coated fingers down her hip-bones.

She didn't wanted to be touched hours ago and look at her now Harry thought smugly as she nibbled her bottom lip inside her pretty mouth putting pressure onto the wet patch of her soaked panties making her whimper intensely.

With a huff she got rid of any barrier between her pussy and fingers lying back on the core floor and Harry took the inside of his cheek in between his morals when her smooth pussy folds drenched into her juices glistened exposed full infront of him.

He don't wants to disturb her by any means so standing there he just enjoyed the pleasuring sight of her playing with herself.

She hisses toying her swollen clit back and forth. Her fingers covering in her wetness and Harry wants to suck them as her wedding band completely shined with her arousal.

"Oh. Yes..." She breathily moaned eyelids fluttering when after circling her hole with many lewd strokes she finally inserted her middle and index inside herself.

Harry's legs clenched tightly and he cupped his boner when she arched her spine into air while caressing her spongy sweet spot, "fuck. baby." Harry whispered mouth getting dry, he wants to fuck her right and there but he wouldn't. He's getting too much ecastasy seeing her get off.

"Oh my god. Harry..." The dams of every affection inside Harry broke down floating his heart in the flood of so much love for his lover and he smiled proudly as she fucked herself with her fingers but yelled his name, for all she could imagine's him.

Pinning her down. Shoving his cock inside her. She thinks of how he'd manhandle her then after fucking her raw he'd make love to her, with languid strokes of his cock against her walls and how he'd whisper all the dirty sweet things she loves to hear.

"Fuck. 'M-—gonna.." Her pupils dilating as she sped her motion rocking her hips, her nails scratching the inside of her wide spread thigh and Harry could see the rim of her hole palpilating around her moving digits, knowing she's close to tipple into bliss.

"C'mon sweet girl. cum fo' me." He whispered sweat breaking at his back and she bolted her eyes shut, palm slapping against her pelvis and she gritted her teeth, bucking her hips for more causing her tits to bounce at how his shirt has ridden low down her ribs and Harry litreally lost it.

"Oh fuck daddy.." She gave a sultry shameless moan when the waves of pleasure hit her causing the knot in her belly to burn into ashes finally. Heat crawled at the Harry's cheeks and throat when she didn't stopped blabbering "fuck, fuck daddy." pushing her fingers in and out vigorously until her thighs cramp together.

She tastes her own cum with a hint of icecream and she giggled loudly delicate fingers still inside mouth shaking her head at what she did, hiding her eyes under her arm.

Harry puts his fist atop his heart. The sight too much to handle. Not to startle her he soundlessly makes his way back to their bedroom.

Showering quickly she pads into bed straddling from over his chest and a whiff of her after orgasm hit his nostrils making him weak in his act that he's deep in slumber.

She smauches a loud fat kiss to his cheek and Harry almost—almost gave out a warm smile which went unnoticed by her as she snuggled under his armpit slinging her leg over his hip to feel the closeness.

Seven in the morning and she felt empty, a burning inside her for again wanting to be touched. She was admiring his features, the freckles sheltered beside his nose, twin moles at his little cute chin and she grazed her hands all over his taught tanned shoulders getting her leverage with them and straddling his torso with a sudden shift.

She swiped a long fat stroke of her tongue from his sternum to his adam apple, grazing her pearl teeth against his jugular vein. He's undeniably beautiful when he's asleep. She thinks he looks extra fuckable in the morning. So, sensitive and raspy under her.

She pecks his lips, then his glossy eyelids and then a kiss to very skin that's visible to her. Hormones going wild inside her and she feels herself warm. She slides down a little softly massaging her pelvis against his, while sucking his nipple inside her mouth.

Harry stirs in his sleep brows furrowing and she lulls her head at her shoulders eyes at ceiling as she humped his morning hard rock cock.

"Lovie'?" He grogged out only hissing at end when she grinded with a sluggish push, his hardness prodding between her covered pussy lips.

"Want you, baby.." She whined. Breaths ragged hair sticked to her hairline from the eagerness and Harry smirked gliding his damp palms up her thick thighs, "c'mon baby take me." She ushered urgently snapping her hips in dying lust.

"Thought ye' didn't wanted me las' night?" He playfully rasped out pawing at her hips and her cheeks flushed with crimson. She abruptly rolled to side from over him fiddling with her shirt, something in her emotions isn't right at the moment she noticed. Why the hell she wants to cry when she herself dismissed him but when he's teasing her it's getting on her nerves.

"Hey. hey...m'sweet cherry look at me." He hastily cupped her cheeks concern in his eyes as he sat on his knees tilting her chin to make her look at him. "Was kiddin' didn't mean it." He leaned to kiss her oh so softly and her stomach knotted just from his lips.

"Gonna take care of yer', shh." He caressed her nipples from under his shirt leaving love bites at the hilt of her jaw shushing her with a gentle coo when she whimpered grinding her pussy against his bulge.

From the last night experience he's aware she doesn't. want. to. be. teased in any case so he yanked his sweats down and his cock hit her lower abdomen making her giggle which soon fueled down when the pink head of his erection brushed against the spongy wall of her exposed cunt.

He kissed her shoulder tugging his cock giving it few lazy pumps and his precome dropped in between her pussy folds, making her gasp and grope his arse for more.

She coiled her arms around the nape of his neck as he swirled her earlobe with his tongue humming when he crushed her under his weight after burying himself deep into her sloppy sweet cunt. Her tight walls milked and nursed his cock that he could cum inside her without any movement from how sensitive he's.

"Mhm. Feels good." He murmured trailing kisses from the dip where her delicate collarbones meet the curve of her neck and she groaned lewdly when he kneaded her nipples which are way plumper than before.

"Harry..." She locked her ankle above his spine, scratching her nails down his lustrous back knowing it makes him crazy and when she whined under him it sent his brows rocketing to his forehead.

"Fuck me hard, baby. Bang me." He pushed himself back from the crook of her neck with the support of his elbows on either side of her temple. Eyes wide, brows kinked into amusement and lips parted staring her with ever surprise.

"Bu' ye' like it slow in the mor—" Poor Harry retorted to his wife like a kiddo of two. Confused in the abrupt change of their routine. Their morning sex's always sensual and passionate, she enjoys the warmth of his weight all over her and how he embraces her like a blanket while grinding their pelvises slowly.

He grunted with a squeal of high pitch when she flipped him to side crawling up at his thighs, "I know lover. But right now I want to be fucked, so bad." She muttered distractedly wrapping her cold hand around his eternity and guiding it inside of her as Harry watched her rather proud at her swankness, his non-existent double chin forming when he tried to see properly.

"Ah-ah." Her moans strangling in her throat. Harry gripped her thighs with a harsh softness just how she likes it as she took pleasure of atlast being filled. Her ass cheeks pressed again his loaded balls.

Her nails digging into his taught chest as she planted her hand behind herself atop his thigh now Harry could practically see his veiny erect cock disappearing inside her.

He grunted hoarsely collecting his and her arousal bringing it to her chest and twisting her nipples mildly not to hurt her but it still did since she's pregnant. Pregnancy means sensitivity every fucking where!

"Ow." She slapped his wrist and Harry immediately pulled his hands away in a frenzy of worry, "did I hurt ye'?" He blabbered pushing her closer to his chest with his palms pressed at her back.

"No...maybe mornin'. S'okay." She frowned at herself at what's happening with her but soon it all melted away when his cock hit her g-spot into pleasurable massaging patterns.

Harry moaned into her ear when she squeezed around him, "hmm. lovie' keep doin' that and I wouldn't last long." He thrusted his cock hard for the first time and she whimpered a plead of "harder."

"Spank me daddy." She hummed eroticaly eyes closed as she rid his big cock deeper and deeper that she felt him in her tummy. "Dirty girl. Fuckin' insatiable. mhm? fucked herself last night still wants to get railed by daddy."

His large bare hand came smacking her ass with a stinging but pleasuring pain causing her ass to jiggle and he kneaded her asscheek to soothe the red sting only to spank her again that sent her into a blabbering mess of, "please daddy." not knowing what her pleads are for.

Swiveling her hips, she shoved her face into the crook of his neck sniffling his sweet vanilla smell as Harry did all the work to make them cum.

"Close." She whispered daintyly and Harry nodded kissing her head giving few more intense thrusts. His cock twitching coated into her arousal and buried into her walls.

"Fuck. hell darlin'—" He shouted groggily fucking into her feeling that desireful burn collecting at the bottom of his spine same goes for y/n and her mouth agaped into silent scream when her pussy cramped around his dick due to her waiting for him to cum with her.

Harry grabbed her jaw smashing his lips over hers into a wet smauchy kiss, tongues stroking lazily and lips caressing like ocean waves. They both moaned into eachother's mouth when that bone crushing and toe curling pleasure drowned them.

"Blood-eh hell." Harry chuckled breathily. His hand wounding around her hair on the neck as he didn't even wanted a thread like barrier in between of her.

"Fucks me so well." She yawned trailing her nose up and down at the back of his earlobe. Her breaths rough and in sync with his. "Shower?" He pecked the corner of her lips and the closed lid of her eyes.

"Can we sleep fo' some more?" She murmured with a lisp and he smiled widely bobbing his head tucking away her wild loose hair, squeezing her waist and taking an hour nap with his cock still inside her warm snug cunt.

.

In the shower she couldn't resist from groping and teasing him, and he didn't tried to pry away from her. Her wildness and libido is everywhere like a gooey mess and he's loving it. Harry had to hold her with slippery soppy hands as she gave him lazy mindblowing head under the cold shower despite her knees went stiff from tiles and her back burned like it never did before.

She adored her husband's back with her chin resting atop her fist, his shoulders shifting, damp curls bouncing as he prepared the better for pancakes. The aroma of banana batter making her tummy go funny and her chest tightening.

When Harry spinned to meet her eyes. Her honey pooled eyes bedazzling and features silken under the golden sunshine. Sparrows carried Harry's heart into a meadow where there's just love and affection.

"What got into ye' bunny?" She didn't diverted her gaze from his as he whisked the batter leaning at her level, raising his brows in a questioning.

"Dunno." She shrugged and he pecked her lips but she scrunched her nose at the whiff of amber moist mintish wooden coming from Harry's collar. The baby didn't liked Harry's new scent at all!

She's feeling sick to her stomach. The morning sickness hitting her. Bringing her hand to cover her nose she spoke muffled with a gag, "what are you wearin'?" He frowned pulling back sniffing his own armpits.

"Wha'? Ye' didn't liked it?" Her choices matters most. And no even if she would have the baby didn't at the moment. She shook her head in denial and Harry didn't even muttered another word when she rushed to washroom.

Her knees colliding with the hardcore tiles and fingers griping the rim of toilet as she puked any of the contents she had in her stomach with a burn in her throat and bloodshot eyes.

In an instant he was by her side. Hands meandering into her loose tresses massaging her scalp soothingly as he cooed sweet nothings to her knowing how much she hates to vomit, the only reason she doesn't drink.

With a loud groan she smashed her cheek against her forearm, her hairline sticky and goosebumps appearing at her bare legs.

"You okay, darlin'?" He asked her kneading the dimple at her spine and she nodded slouching into his arms, "see it's all icecream." He pointed to the toilet bowl full of that icky thing.

"Yuck." She blew him off and he chuckled helping her to stand up, "maybe ate too much icecream last night." She giggled with foamy mouth while brushing her teeth.

"S'kay sweet girl. gonna flip some pancakes, join me in the kitchen." She rolled her eyes. He smooched a kiss to her cheek winking and waddled outside.

They fought over the last pancake only that Harry decided they should share but when he looked how she gave him puppy eyes his heart melted into caramel honey and he ended up feeding it himself to her.

.

There's nothing too much to do atleast for Harry during the quarantine. He writes and plays some melodies. Then he goes on his mission to annoy y/n while she's doing her nine to five job, he cracks her toe-fingers, tickles her soles, trails kisses at her ankles and pushes her buttons so much knowing when she gets all riled up she traps him under her and fucks the shit out of him so bad he couldn't sit on his arse next two days.

"Harry! unlike you I've an actual job." Today at last she snaps her frustration at him because her spine feels like it would break into two despite of whole pillow kingdom under her.

"Heyyyyyy." He complains sucking her big toe into his mouth and she throws her head back with a slightest of relief.

"Maybe. 'M bout to get my periods. Too cranky." Only if she knew. She pouted placing the laptop over the nightstand crawling to his laid body, "c'mon baby lemme loosen up ya' a bit and fuck you hard." Harry's words immediately pooling her panties with warmth and she nodded eagerly kissing him with open mouth.

He fulfilled his promise. Gave her a proper massage with coconut oil and when he separated her asscheeks to have a look at her glistening cunt, she was dripping and Harry couldn't resist to take her on the stomach.

.

She's two months pregnant and her cravings are kicking her hard. The whole night she stared at ceiling of bedroom thinking about the roasted chicken, spaghetti, anything mouth watering and appetizing she could imagine off.

At the moment as Harry snored cuddled up inside her while she laid straight on her back. Chocolates were all where in her mind. She swiped her tongue between her lips, sneaking her arm from under Harry and strolling to kitchen. She rummaged through cabinets and refrigerator for her favourite box of her dark chocolates.

She loves them. When in university she couldn't afford them she would save her extra coins to buy them and when they started dating Harry picked upon her certain likeness. He would bring her those chocolates loving to see how blush used to creep up at her cheeks, how she would looka at floor and scrunch her bunny nose from avoiding to give her excitement.

At the moment all she want is to taste that rich and bursting feeling seeping into her taste buds. She huffed stomping her feet when she couldn't find the purple of box of chocolates.

Tears brimming in her eyes and anger boiling inside her at the fact why she's crying, for fuck's sake!

She strided grumpily to their bedroom. Jumping on the bouncy mattress so furiously that Harry was about to fall down but he didn't woke up. He's high in his dreams.

"Psst. Bambi. Harryyyyyy." She whispered yelled poking his dimples and pinching his nose to clog his breathing, rocking his body drawling out a tired, "harryyy wakey. wakey." The sight's so funny to see. She's all teary. Pink nose. Shining eyes. Fat tears at her collarbones but still she's trying to be humble on him.

"Huh-uh, bubby?" He rasped out squinting his eyes to see what's happening around him. She sucked her bottom lip inside to stop from hiccuping and worrying him more. She hates to make him anxious for herself.

"D-do you know where my chocolates are?" He sighed guilt tripping from his breath.

"Ate 'em. Swear the only bar was left." She wants to do something to him. To scowl at him and make him bring the chocolates right fucking now to her but she pushed her own yearn for them down. Wiping her nose she just muttered a little "okie." getting comfortable into his sprawled arm.

Even in the sleepiness Harry sensed her fumbleness and restlessness. She shook her head kissing his head when he yawned a "sorry." then tangled their legs together snuggling into her cosily.

The first thing in the morning Harry did was bought her those chocolates and a cold mocha when he went for a jog. She was still sleeping. He was bout to wake her up since it was past nine, but the exhausted lankiness of her made him do the opposite. He didn't disturbed her until it was past noon.

"You specially went to buy these for me!?" She chirped with enthusiasm. Tip-toeing to meet his lips and Harry shied away at her lovin'. He hummed at the bitter-sweet taste of chocolate on her wine lips.

"I always do. Don't I?" He chuckled confusingly. She sang a melody in agreement strolling in the kitchen giving a smack to his bum and a pinch to his hip. He just thinks the work really tired his poor wifey past days, now she got a proper sleep she's back to her bubbly self.

The storm is yet to come. An unexpected wave of ocean's yet to crash onto their relationship.

.

Their routine's like this. She wakes up late. He drags his ass in the empty house with a bored expression and puppy eyes. Then they eat breakfast in their bed, mostly made by Harry. Then Harry takes her, on the back, on her stomach, on all fours, against the kitchen counter, on the plushiest couch while they watch one movie as usual go, most of time distracting her from work and putting his mouth on her cunt, giving her his long slender fingers on her demand, sometimes fucking her in the pool because she looked too gorgeous in her sunflower bikni. He loves how plump and soft like a pudding she has got.

It's sex. Anytime and everytime.

Then they share a glass of milk and cookies before going bed, doing an innocent act before doing the really filthy ones.

It's five in the morning and Harry's leaving for L.A for some contracts. Her chin wobbled and bottom lip jutted as she hugged him for dear life refusing to let him go.

"Y/n. Hey, sweet baby listen t' me yeah?" He coaxed her petting her hair. She shook her head and he giggled showering her in his many sweet sloppy wet kisses.

"Travelling in a damn pandemic? Seems like a bad idea to me." She gruffly spoke. Eyes stinging as she tried to hold her tears. The baby in her belly's gonna miss their daddy.

"I have to." He sighed lingering his lips over her temple, giving her tender forehead kisses many times but it didn't soothe the burn in her.

"Jus' take care, okay? Please." She gave in atlast instructing the love of her life and cupping his cheeks to look in his eyes. He laced their fingers together kissing her engagement ring and her softest palms.

"I'll. don't worry darlin'. Ye' take care of yer'self too check the locks before sleeping, yeah?" She sniffled in between of giggles when he lulled her face in between his palms side to side like a smol kid.

"Now go...before I change my mind and lock you up inside." Honestly he doesn't want to go too. But it's important and that's the only issue. With a heavy heart he waved her from their porch, blowing her a kiss which she caught and pretended to shove into her shirt in the middle of her tits making his laugh echoe in the neighbourhood.

.

Harry don't forgets to check upon her even with the time zones. He talks to her until she falls asleep. He helps her get-off from his dirty talking through phone and warns her not to cum till he gives permission. She obeys like an atta good girl she's.

She's been having carvings. Having wild libido to soothe down her desire. She throws tantrums with no-one around and has been not doing her work properly. She cries from the frustration and achy tendions of hers and that Harry's not her to heal them better.

Most of all she misses Harry more than she should.

She's watching telly after facetiming Harry before he went to sleep. She crunched on her pringles, it's like her soul got relief from how bad she wanted to eat them.

She awed at the babies on the telly. Some in their diapers and onesies, some with cute chubby cheeks, with piggy tails and blabbering mess. Her baby fever on it's peak.

Then it crashed on her. The epiphany. She didn't got her periods did she? She was blaming it on her periods but in reality she never got them.

She gasped in astonishment and anxiousness not knowing what to do but waddled to the ensuite washroom. She pulled the hem of her panties first when she found it spotless her nerves crippled more.

She carelessly took the tattered t-shirt of Harry from over her head and threw it to hamper. Her breath hitching looking at her breasts, it looks swelled and full, she brushed the pad of her fingers around the areola and pinched her eyes when she felt them a tiny bit of moist from the nipples.

But, it could be from something else right? So. She raked her sight down her tummy and unfortunately she found it a tiniest bit of showing, she fake assured herself when in reality it was really visible the barely roundness atop her pelvis. But, it could be from the way she was home for three months and did nothing except of gobbling food upon food right?

In a hurry she went to nearest grocery store. The cashier lady gave her an assuring smile closing her eyes to calm y/n nerves down and y/n hastily said a "thank you." Indicating how her gesture made y/n warm.

Siting on the toilet seat she waited impatiently head in her one hand and other holding the pregnancy test. Her tears on bayline. Wishing Harry was with her at this time. He missed it.

When the test came out of positive she sobbed out. Doing another one with shaky fingers. And heasteric sobs.

The anxiety making her sick to core. Her head pounding and she ended up throwing. She just wants him by her side. For him to tell her it's okay. That he's so fuckin' happy he could cry and she should too. But he's not and she doesn't even know he wants this baby. His baby. Their baby.

Ofcourse. They've talked about having a family and having little Harrys messing around everywhere in their house but they never tried for it. It was too early. They're married from just two years. Yeah. You got married in the last year of uni and have your surname as Styles which Harry's quite proud and smug of that he have his initials in his girl's degree.

She just started a proper job an year ago. With tear stained face she slowly went to bed, bringing her knees closer to her chest and sandwiching her hands in between them as she cried to sleep.

She doesn't know how to act. Not when there's nobody beside her to cajole her emotions to trepidation. No-one to rub her back and tell her that she's gonna be a lovely mommy. Not when she doesn't know if he wants all of this but she has decided that she wants it even if she looses her job or him.

When she startled from her sleep not very long after she reached for her phone dialling Harry's number. He was exhausted like a dead bee and one of his friend had to shake him. He went all alarmed at her name and snatched the phone putting it to his ear.

"You were asleep." She asked with a rough voice and he hummed trying to open his eyes. Few sniffles that were swallowed back in her throat and she managed to speak her voice wavering.

"Umm...we need to talk. It's urgent." At her words Harry shot up from his sleepy position his own voice shaky now, "what d'ya mean?" She wants to tell him that Harry Styles you're gonna be a daddy. But, she didn't. She couldn't.

"Can you take the flight back home?" He was already on his feet looking for his things, "yeah. Comin' back home." She closed her eyes just trying to relaxe herself.

"Will it affect our marriage?" He asked anxiously. She shrugged muttering and looking down at her barely visible bump. For the first time she felt so lonely, "depends on you."

"You're scarin' me darlin'." He rushed out without an explanation to his friends taking the first flight back to London. He was already exhausted and jittery. Now emotional too assuming worst scenarios of what happened in the sudden change of her mood.

.

It was early morning when he reached home. His heart dropped when he found the kitchen empty, threshold barren despite of knowing she's mostly asleep at this hour of morning but still he was afraid.

He found his love in the living room. Her back to him and when she turned to him his chest tightened. She's a sight for sore eyes. But she's looking sore and like a cherrie pie at the moment.

"Bunny? Everything's alright?" She shook her head left and right that caused him to walk towards her hurriedly with wobbly legs.

Tears welling her eyes again. "You've to sit, first." She said in between her breaths and his own strucked inside him as to what the news is that would send him falling. He could pray only at the moment.

He crouched to his knees infront of her and she brushed his lousy curls back as he ran his hands up her thighs, smiling at him through tears but it soon vanished and Harry felt like he could give out a one sob or perhaps two.

His brows knighting together in confusion when she curled her fingers around the hem of her baggy shirt. She bolted her eyes shut. Harry stared the littlest of bun of her tummy gradually dots connecting in his mind.

"I'm pregnant, Harry." She said in a one breath. Dunno if she heard it too. Harry kept on staring at the womb that holds his baby, his fingers stopped moving and when it took too long for him to give a reaction she jumped to conclusions rambling.

"It's okay if you don't want it. We'll figure it out, but I want this baby. I don't care if you d—" She was cut off with the first gentle touch of Harry's to her belly as he stroked it with his thumb that sent electricity sensations to his heart, "shut up. I'd risk my life for it."

At this she sobbed out and he did too. She did right to make him sit else he'd have fainted in the middle of their room at her happy news.

"I thought-" Her cries got muffled as she continuously kissed the insides of his calloused palms and his knuckles, "why?" He wasn't stern or offensive he's just curious and seriously worried that what of his actions made her think that he wouldn't keep this baby. His own baby.

"Dunno. We were never prepared for this, you know..." He chuckled at her kissing the top of her nose. Peppering kisses all over her face. The mother of his baby.

"Why wouldn't I want a sweet human we created together? I'd want as many as we could. next time we would be on a whole mission." She giggled jabbing his shoulder and he gave out a hearty laugh slipping his mop of curls under her shirt smauching wet loud pecks and kisses to her tummy his words slobbery, "two bunnies!" His voice squeaky and comic with excitement.

He took her in his lap. Saturating any distance between and kissed her lovingly with more love and tenderness now she's carrying his baby.

"The mother of meh' baby." He murmured into her mouth stroking the corner of her lips as he deepened the kiss, "s' proud of you." He appreciates her for bearing all the sickness, achiness and icky-ness.

"Thank you for bearing my fussy ass." He's more giggly feeling not even a bit of jet-lag and shook his head smirking at her, "I know you're gonna be way more fussy than this, bu' I love you too much that I'll handle your tantrums."

She ruffled his hair kissing his forehead.

"Now...I got to know why ye' always craved for chocolates all the time, our baby loves chocolates jus' like ye'." He gave a squeeze to the soft flesh of her ass and went all serious in another minute, "gonna feed ye' favourite chocolates because no way she's getting this amount of sweetness when she's born, don't want rotten teeth." He has already glued to his chosen gender.

Y/n laughed loudly at his silliness. Apologising she pecked his lips cinching her fingers through his baby curls, "seriously Harry? We don't know the gender yet."

"'S gonna be my sweet sweet girl, with pretty little mouth of yours and my eyes." Y/n is fuckin' sentimental and again tears of undeniable love brimmed in her eyeliner for the loving man, father of her unborn child.

He trailed kisses from her throat to her cheeks cradling it in his two fingers, "now tell me bunny. How do you want me." He was hovering over her lips and when she wet them they striped against his.

"Make love t' me then fuck me rough." His hips bucked at her boldness and she pinned down with an arch of her brow, kissing him passionately so he murmured a "heyyyyyy." In her mouth squirming under her giving her Bambi eyes.

.

A/N: My fingers (R.I.P). Please, reblog and give your feedbacks all the love and kisses!!

Moji.

[rumblelibrary]

"How many times can you look me in the eye and lie to me?" Also with Ernest, break my heart please 💔, I need like angry and broken Ernest

“How many times can you look at me in the eye and lie to me” - with Ernst Schmidt x Fem!Reader

Warnings: masturbation, mention of attempted murder

I wasn't ready to write this and when I was, I still wasn't.

Ernst smiled at you, he just woke up to find you laying beside him like very morning, his little corner of paradise, your silky nightgown clinging sensually around your shape, that amazing curve of your body always getting him more and more turned on.

“Good morning, Ernst”

You said to him and he smiled happily whispering it back to you.

“Oh, looks like Dr Schmidt is more awake than you”

The way you giggled and nicknamed his dick would have made him blush if he wasn’t so aroused by your presence.

“Get naked for me, I don’t have time”

You pouted but then you obliged as you stood on the bed slowly giving him a strip tease, you even hummed the music waving your body in front of him.

Your voice only rang through him, the way you sang was pure poetry.

You swayed from side to side as the silk slipped off your skin like water, you picked a moan as you touched over your body as he pumped himself nicely.

“Fuck, show me your ass”

He cursed as he went immediately hard on himself, he was hungry, needy for you and yet he didn’t have time to fully give into the pleasure.

You obeyed, you rolled your hips turning around as your panties made their way down your ass and quickly precipitated to your ankles before being kicked out of the way.

The way your hands moved, the moans that escaped you as your hands travelled between your legs gifting pleasure to yourself.

Ernst was thrown into a very fast orgasm against his own stomach while staring at you.

“Your breakfast is ready now”

You smirked as he chuckled “I hope not this one” he said pointing at his chest as you giggled jumping off the bed.

“I need the calculation for this”

You nodded providing him the answer in a moment, you worked side to side and you were his right arm, always helping him.

“So? How long is it going to take freak?”

Volkov voice made you roll your eyes.

He annoyed you like hell, but he really took a tool on Ernst.

Don’t let him get into you

You typed it on the computer for Ernest to see. He now needed to be focusing on the task ahead instead of the teasing, he pushed his glasses further on the bridge of his nose as he looked up at the screen ignoring the Russian.

Thank you he typed back to you

;) your answer

Nevertheless, the experiments kept failing and you kept working tirelessly with him. Where it was the error? What could it be?

“Ernst, I brought you something to eat” Lin said as she came to the control room and stared up at you for a moment, you leaned your head on side, you glared at her but smiled, it wasn’t even polite as a smile, it was just circumstantial.

“Don’t worry, I don’t need it”

You said it quite harshly earning a look from Ernst that made you turn around and go back to your calculations.

“Forgive her” Ernst said for you and Lin shrugged “I am worried for you” she whispered to him “you’re getting too much into this, it is not healthy, do not listen to Volkov but I need you to be awake and ready more than anyone, you’re our only physic here”

He chuckled lightly “the one who could survive here among you crazy heads” he joked as you looked back at them interacting and frowned lightly.

That evening he was applying some cream to ease the bruise Volkov left on his face after last experiment.

“That man should have been checked, with such a temper he shouldn’t be allowed on the mission” you mumbled as you stared at him while programming the dinner on the big screen to be delivered. Usually you would fetch it but the beating accident pushed Ernst to be asked to go to his rooms earlier than usual.

“I know, but I gave him his fair share and it is good like this. We are all stressed on board, Lin taught me this word which means actually stressed because of the pressure due on the mind, I need to ask her again about it”

“You like her, don’t you?”

You asked it like a firing shot, he rolled his eyes “please, not again with it”

You frowned as he dismissed always that topic but you hated it.

“You think she is more attractive than me?”

“That is not possible” he just said and you looked down at your floral shorts and top coord pyjama.

You looked back at the screen as you downloaded the exercises he had been prescribed before leaving the Earth to keep his back and neck healthy after so many hours on the computer.

“Would you fuck her?”

He glared at you “I said it is a closed topic”

You sighed nodding lightly, you nibbled your bottom lip but just carried on with the evening.

It was like an accident, Volkov was checking the oxygen reserve as always when he started to feel dizzy. He frowned as soon as he realised he rushed to the door. There was a leak. But when he rushed to the door it was locked and not even the code worked to open it.

He really thought it was the end but Lin saw him and with the help of Kiel managed to get him out of there.

Volkov didn’t speak to anyone for the rest of the night.

But Ernst knew perfectly who he had to talk to.

When he came to his quarters and locked the door you were wearing a nice deep blue dress, one of his favourites with off shoulders and a tight skirt, the dinner was ready for him to eat and some soft music playing in the background.

“You’re out of your mind”

He only said that and you looked at him confused “What? Why? Don’t you like salmon?”

“Don’t you play innocent with me Y/N, I saw the codes, you hacked the door, a clean job but you should know I can find your ID print anywhere, even behind the electricity system”

You frowned “I probably messed up, what door got blocked?”

He laughed out loud smacking his hand loudly over his forehead “How can you even be such a liar? Killing Volkov won’t solve anything”

You frowned as he spoke like that “He beat you Ernst”

You said it finally after a long silence “he handles you in that way and punches you and threatens you constantly, I can’t see him do this for more years”

“Killing him is not the solution”

“I was just trying to protect you!!” You screamed to him.

He stood straight in front of you, cringe colouring his features as you stared at him helplessly.

“What do you even know about protection? You’re not even -“

“I love you, that’s what I know”

He looked at you as you said that, the disgust on him turned to pain and then to rage.

“Take it back”

“No”

“I said” he came closer to you, his voice tone lowering “Take it back, now”

You shook your head as you felt tears forming in your eyes, your chest starting to hiccup as you tried to hold back the fear and the sadness of his reaction.

You daydreamed so much of him telling you that little ‘I love you too’.

And yet, here you’re.

“Ernst”

“No, no Ernst, this is over”

You paled up as he moved past you taking his tablet.

“Ernst, but it is true, I love you, I swear, it is love” you said, your voice trembling as your tears started to roll down your cheeks “Every day, you’re my only thought, you’re what I live for, I live to see you smile at me, to see you happy, to see that little quirky smirk you do when all the analysis work. The way you look at me when we are alone, the way you smile at me, share things with me. That’s all I wish for. Please. Please Ernst. You have to believe me”

“Liar.” His answer was dry, filled with anger and disgust, his eyes not even gracing you.

“I am not lying, I can’t lie to you. Ernst. I beg you, talk to me”

“How many times can you look at me in the eye and lie to me??” He shouted at the top of his lungs taking his dinner plate with his free hand and smashing it on the wall in front of him.

“Ernst” yours was a whisper, his name your only reason to live left as fear was now dominating you “please”

He glared at you, jaw clenched, hand locked into fists so tight that his knuckles were white.

He pressed something on the tablet that he still clenched on his side and on the big screen in the room that usually projected a night skyline for dinner appeared a red notification:

Are you sure you want to interrupt the hologram?

Yes - No

You stared at the screen as you closed your eyes, tears rolling even more down your cheeks.

“I love you Ernst”

“You’re not supposed to love, Y/N” his voice betraying the pain simmering after that mask of rage you know too well by now.

The tap of his finger on the tablet screen the last thing you heard before being caged back into your code.

[comfortwriting]

Diamond Flower - F.W

Masterlist, Requesting Rules, Writing Prompts

Fred Weasley x Fem Reader

Prompts 25, 28 & 30. 

25: “Do you think she’ll like the ring?” He asked sounding nervous. 

28: You held the letter close to your heart and blushed, giggling like a little girl.

30: Tiptoeing into your room, admiring you dreaming away, he placed your presents at the end of the bed and left. 

About: The reader hates her birthday and Fred wants to change that. 

Warnings: food and eating, death of y/n’s mother during birth.

Sitting down at the dinner table with the rest of your boyfriends family, you looked around the kitchen to see where he and his twin were, Molly muttered under her breath in annoyance and you couldn’t help but chuckle. 

“Where are they! those two would be late to their own bloody wedding!” she huffed, passing you the dish of mashed potatoes. 

“I’m sure they just got carried away, you know what they’re like” you reassured her, putting the mash on your plate “they’ll be home any minute”

Fred and George went to Diagon Alley for the day, they said they had business plans to handle with the shop being so successful but instead, George was helping his twin look for an engagement ring. 

“bit naff proposing on her birthday though, isn’t it?” he asked, looking at different rings. 

Fred shook his head walking over to the next cabinet “she hates her birthday and we already talked about this years ago, it would give her a reason to be happy and to celebrate it.”

George spotted a ring with a sparkling ruby, pointing at it “so that's the only reason why you’re proposing then?” 

Fred rolled his eyes and slapped his brothers arm, looking at the ring and shaking his head, focusing on the other ones.

“is it fuck, you’re starting to sound like Ron, Georgie.”

Fred stopped in his tracks, picking up the perfect ring, the diamond shaped like a flower. “I’m marrying Y/N because I love her, George.”

Fred tapped on the glass and called out to the saleswoman behind the counter “Can I get this ring please?”

Fred turned to face his brother “I just want the most depressing day of the year for her to be one of the happiest, something for her to be happy about, you know?”

The saleswoman took out her wand and unlocked the cabinet, picking up the ring. “the ring size?”

Fred took out his square piece of paper and handed it to her, the lady smiled and tapped the ring with her wand, changing its size. 

All three of them walked back over to the counter, the saleswoman putting it inside a sleek dark blue box. 

“but why is she so against her birthday?” George asked, focusing on the ring box.

Fred focused on the ring box too “because her mother died whilst giving birth to her, Y/N blames herself.”

The saleswoman took the gold from Fred and handed him the ring box, him and George walking out back into the evening cold.

“Do you think she’ll like the ring?” He asked sounding nervous. 

George nodded “she’ll love it, mate.”

Ron took the dish from you, his mouth full of Yorkshire pudding “there’ll be none left by the time they bet back” 

Hermione scowled at him “Don’t talk with your mouth full, Ronald!”

“None of what?” You boyfriend, Fred chimed in, sitting next to you and placing a kiss on your temple. 

George followed behind and sat next to Ginny, flashing his mum an apologetic look, muttering that he would explain later. 

You loved Sunday roast dinners at the burrow, surrounded by the Weasley family, Angelina, Hermione and Harry, all of you one big family - you missed the presence of Bill and Fleur but the new baby meant they had to take advantage of any shut eye they could get. 

Casual talk went across the table, work, work, more work, and you were thankful - at this rate your upcoming birthday would go unnoticed and not mentioned. Unfortunately, a glint of excitement flashed in Molly’s eyes when her focus landed on you. 

“Oh Y/N! How could I forget dear!” she beamed, getting out of her seat, swishing her wand collecting all of the empty plates “your birthday in four days, do you have any plans?” 

Fred and George shared a nervous glance, Fred’s hands now under the table, playing with his fingers. 

Hermione went quiet and flashed you a sympathetic look, she knew how much you hated celebrating your birthday and she felt guilty for not telling Mrs Weasley that you preferred to spend the day alone. 

You shook your head, moving back whilst your plate hovered in the air, flying towards the other pile of plates on the worktop “no” you replied, smiling slightly “just going to stay home and catch up on some reading”

Molly waved her hand and shook her head “that's no way to celebrate your birthday! Ginny and I will bake you something special, won’t we?” 

Molly walked over to her daughter and stood behind her seat, placing her motherly hands on Ginny’s shoulders. Ginny smiled widely and nodded “of course! been wanting to get more practice for ages!” 

You knew if you were to back out now Molly would take it personally, and you didn’t want to hurt her feelings after everything she has done for you since Fred welcomed you into his home five years ago. 

You smiled and looked at Fred, his expression slightly sad with a splash of worry “is that okay with you?” 

Fred nodded and smiled “it’s your special day, darling.” 

You pulled back your quilt and got into bed, pulling the sheets back over your cold legs, Fred leant against the door frame and stared at you for a moment, he walked into the bedroom and got undressed, climbing into bed next to you. 

“I’m sorry love, you know what my mum is like” he murmured through a yawn, spooning you. 

You nodded and dimed the lights “it’s okay Freddie, she doesn’t know”

The two of you were silent for a moment, Fred slowly placing loving kisses on the back of your neck. You remembered the looks he and George were giving each other over dinner, the low muttering and whispers. 

“what were you and George up to?” you asked quietly “you were late to dinner and kept giving each other odd looks.”

Fred didn’t answer, his breath hitched in his throat “uh, we... a trial for one of our new products didn’t go to well” he lied, shuffling slightly.

You knew Fred wasn’t telling the truth, you could always tell when he was lying - but you were too tired to push his buttons and you just wanted the next four days over and done with. 

“okay” you yawned, sinking into the mattress, drowning in Fred’s arms and covers “goodnight Freddie”

“goodnight love”

The morning of your birthday, Fred got up bright and early, the shop hours today were altered so he could be home earlier to support you, but with that he needed to be up and out the house earlier too. 

Fred put on his coat, nearly ready to set off for work, he got out your presents and a special card in a deep blue envelope that matched the colour of the ring box which he hid behind the photo frame of the two of you at the Yule Ball. 

Tiptoeing into your room, admiring you dreaming away, he placed your presents at the end of the bed and left.

Fred couldn’t stop his nerves, between serving customers and stocking the shelves with products he couldn’t help but chew George’s other ear off with his worries. 

“what if Y/N says no?”

George shook his head and rolled his eyes “don’t be a plonker, she isn't going to say no, now get those bloody skiving Snackboxes out!”

Once you were able to roll out of bed, you took a bath and tried to stop the guilt from taking over you, opening your presents you were so touched by the beautiful gifts Fred had got you - feeling very grateful and slightly better than you were expecting. 

As the day went by, like Fred, you felt more and more nervous, your stomach doing flips and your hands shaking like a tree in the wind - you didn’t know how ready you were for a big cake, all the singing, blowing out the candles, and cheering; but you couldn’t back out, not now.

Dragging yourself into your room, you put on your best dress which sparkled different shades of purple in different lights, and you put on your favourite earrings - a present from Freddie for you first year together. 

Hearing a cracking noise, you turned around and gripped your dresser, trying to catch your breath. Fred apparated in front of you with a cheerful expression on his face, he pulled you into a tight embrace.

“you look gorgeous, Y/N.” he kissed your head, pulling away from the embrace. 

Fred was already dressed in his smart suit, he kept turning his head and looking over the the living room. 

“do you hear that?” he asked you, walking out of the bedroom.

You shook your head “no, what is it?” and followed him into the living room.

Fred stood in front of the same picture frame on the wall, staring at the two of you smiling in your best outfits on Christmas Day. 

“you shook see what's behind it, love.”

You looked into Fred’s eyes and knitted your eyebrows together, a rare smirk spreading across your face. “no funny business” you warned him, chuckling slightly. 

Walking over to the picture frame and pulling it out from the wall, the dark blue envelope hiding behind it swiftly fell to the floor, landing on your feet. Bending over and picking it up, your name was written across it in silver. 

You looked at Fred for a moment, he looked back at you with a nervous look on his face. 

“Open it, sweetheart.”

Opening the envelope, you pulled out the letter inside. 

You held the letter close to your heart and blushed, giggling like a little girl.

Fred knew how much you loved his love letters, the two of you used to write back and forth whenever you were apart. 

You pulled the letter away from your heart and started to read:

Dear Y/N,

Words can’t ever explain or describe how much I love you, how much I adore you, what you and your smile does to me and my heart. You are perfect, you are my sunshine on a cloudy day, you’re my liquid luck.

I know this day is never easy for you, but please know it wasn’t and never will be your fault. 

I feel so blessed to have you in my life and I don’t ever want to experience a life without you - I know I’m stupid sometimes with all the pranks and being the hilarious one in the relationship, but you are my everything and you keep me grounded, you make this house feel like a home. 

Please put down the letter and say yes.

- Freddie.

Moving the letter out of your view, your jaw dropped and tears of happiness instantly pricked your eyes and filling them. In front of you, Fred got down on one knee and looked up at you, holding out a beautiful engagement ring, the diamond in the shape of your favourite flower. 

“Miss Y/N Y/L/N, my liquid luck, my everything - will you marry me?”

Putting your hands over your mouth you nodded your head, blinking away the tears “yes! I will Freddie!”

Fred got up, tears in his eyes too and placed the stunning ring on your finger, pulling you into his arms and sharing a long and special kiss. 

Blowing out the candles on your toffee cake, everyone in the burrow cheered, George flashing Fred a huge smile once he saw the ring on your finger. 

Cutting the cake into slices and putting each slice on the duck egg blue plates, you handed Molly her slice of cake, her eyes widening when she spotted the ring. Leaping out of her chair, she pulled you into a tight hug, tears in her eyes matching yours and Fred's. 

“Oh everyone, look!” she gabbed your hand, making you show off the beautiful ring “Fred and Y/N are engaged!” 

Looking into the eyes of your future husband, you smiled and mouthed “best birthday ever”

Taglist: @reeophidian @amourtentiaa @inglourious-imagines

[sulphuryasecretcloset]

His little sister and her big brother

They’re eating a late dinner in their room. Raga is drowning her plate with spices while Paz patiently tries to get food into his mouth with his right hand while his left hand is being tugged and manoeuvred about as Liita chews her own food and studies his clunky, old vambrace.

Half of his haul falls off his fork as Liita abruptly turns his hand again to eye where the fuel tube connects to the metal. She’s clearly not pleased with the emergency repair she had to do the last time it fell apart. 

“I don’t get why you don’t just replace this vambrace. It’s complete crap.” Liita says.

Raga pauses in her spice-mayhem and looks at Paz. She knows why.

Paz shrugs and dives back in with his fork to get a decent pile on it again. “I like it.” He lies and quickly shoves his food into his mouth before she makes him drop it again.

“One day that tube is going to fail mid-battle and you’re going to explode into a ball of fire.” Liita grumbles, turning his hand again. “Idiot.”

Paz chews, pulls his hand free and flicks a finger at her forehead. He grins at her angry flail and lets her have his hand again to keep fidgeting and complaining about the vambrace.

Raga goes back to eating as well.

-

It’s disgustingly early the day Paz stalks around and looks for his grey t-shirt with growing frustration as time is running out. “Are you sure you didn’t take it?” He opens a drawer.

“I’m sure.” Raga snaps in a voice tight with irritation as she waits for him to finish packing.

Paz slams a drawer shut and straightens to stare at her. “Well, it’s not here.”

“Well, I didn’t take it.” She counters, with a touch of anger now.

Paz’ eyes narrow. He knows she loves that grey t-shirt, loved it from the second he acquired it during their teenage years (The fabric had been pitch black back then.) and that ever since; she has hoarded and worn this particular shirt more than he has. But he also knows that she wouldn’t lie about taking it and if he pushes her any more, she will punch him in the face.

Grumbling, Paz grabs another shirt and stuffs it into his bag. Fine. He’ll find it when they get back from their mission.

And he does.

“I got you the part you wa…” Paz comes to an abrupt next to the ship Liita is working on, currently parked outside the Covert, and he sees her climb out of the hammock in the cargo hold. She has a sleepy look on her face and her skinny frame is wearing his missing grey t-shirt. (Which is ridiculously big on her.) “Hey. That’s my shirt!”

“Yeah. I know.” Liita yawns and walks over to grab the engine part he’s holding and he’s too surprised to keep her from taking it. “This looks mint. Thanks.”

“I was looking for that shirt.” Paz says, frustrated. “I accused Raga of taking it.”

“That was stupid of you.” Liita says, walking away while studying the piece in her hand.

“I want my shirt back!” Paz shouts.

“I bet if I ask Dad, he’ll say I can keep it.” Is her smug reply and Paz blinks. Oh, that little troll…

“It’s my shirt!”

He does get the shirt back, but only in time for Raga to steal it. Him whining, ahem, complaining about it only ends in Raga pushing her chest forward, smiling and sweetly asking if she doesn’t look good in it and he kind of forgets what he was complaining about…

-

It’s raining when Paz is playing a board game with a friend and Liita walks into the Covert.

She sheds her raincover and walks over to where they are sitting. “For the record, he asked for it.”

Paz keeps his gaze on the board. “What happened?”

“I was working on the ship.”

Paz’ friend moves a piece and Paz calculates his options. “Uh huh?” He moves his piece. “And?”

“And I noticed several of my tools were gone. Again.” Liita grits her teeth and crosses her arms. “I told Drallah not to touch my stuff. Those were brand new and expensive. Dad got me those.”

“Mhm.” Paz says, watching as his friend’s hand hover over the pieces while trying to decide which move to make next. “And then what happened?”

“I went over to his place, found him and my stuff.”

“What did you do?”

Liita shrugs. “I took one of the wrenches and smacked him across both of his poleyns. Once he’d stopped wailing and squirming around on the ground, I told him next time I’d do it without him wearing his armor.”

Eyes still on the board, Paz raises his hand towards her, palm up, and waits for her to high-five him.  She does. “That’s my sister.” He says, then returns all of his focus on the game again while she wanders off.

-

One day Liita is sitting on the bed, calmed by Raga braiding her hair as usual, and she frowns at the sight of Paz removing his helmet after joining them in the room.

“Your hair is growing out.” Liita states. “You’re all fluffy.”

“Yup.” Paz replies, running his hand through the flattened locks, ruffling it a little, and savours the predatory look in Raga’s eyes.

“Why would you-” Liita then wrinkles her nose with disapproval and glares at him. “Stop it. You’re being gross.” She elbows Raga. “You too.”

Raga cackles and Paz deliberately lingers on how much he loves that sound and how beautiful she looks…

“Stop!” Liita clamps her hands over her ears, trying in vain to block out the feelings he’s emitting as if they were sound waves.

Paz tilts his head, sees the growing grin on Raga’s face as she realizes what he’s doing and feels a hot pulse in his blood when she waggles her eyebrows quite suggestively at him.

They both burst into laughter when Liita breaks and makes a run for the door with a frustrated shout.

-

It’s an entirely unremarkable day when Liita enters the room and Paz barely looks up from his datapad. Raga is in the shower, nothing interesting is planned for the day and he’s just lazing about.

Liita climbs into bed and shuffles over to sit nearby him, but she doesn’t say anything.

As silence is nothing new when it comes to her, it takes a while before Paz glances over. But once he does; he instantly lowers his datapad and she has his full attention.

Liita looks… off. There is something wrong. Sure, Liita has a closed off or somewhat grouchy expression on her face by default, but this isn’t that. She looks uneasy. Upset? “What’s wrong?”

Liita shakes her head.

Paz puts the datapad away and sits up properly, despite his armor not exactly working with him here. “Talk to me. Tell me what wrong?”

She hesitates, but eventually Liita draws a deep breath and starts talking. “It’s nothing. It’s really nothing. It’s stupid.” She clears her throat and shifts a little. “Am I ugly?”

She could not have surprised Paz any more if she’d slapped his bare face. “What-no!” He reaches out and takes a hold of her chin to make her face him. “You are not ugly. Who said you were?”

Liita puts on a brave face, but she keeps her gaze lowered to his chest. “No one.”

Paz leans a little closer. “Who?”

“He didn’t use the word ‘ugly’, okay?” Liita carefully lifts her gaze to look at his t-visor. “Just that I was no fighter. Too skinny. And weak. That I didn’t look like a proper Mandalorian.”

“Who?” Paz repeats, having to grit the word out through the anger choking him.

“Makeiset.” Liita mumbles.

Paz releases her chin, gets out of bed, slams his hand on the door opener and stalks out of the room.

The first thing he does is check out Makeiset’s quarters, but he’s not there so Paz goes on the hunt. He marches from common room to common room, every Mandalorian he meets throws themselves out of his path, and finally, he steps through a door and sees his prey next to the room designated for blaster target practice.

Despite Makeiset wearing his armor, the way he freezes up and radiates guilt makes it easy to picture all the colour draining from his face when he sees Paz Vizla and the fury rolling off him.

The second Paz takes a step forward, Makeiset makes a run for it. Growling, Paz takes up the chase.

Mandalorians, tables, chairs and even part of a closing door goes flying as Paz goes after Makeiset like an enraged mudhorn. Speed is usually not his thing, but the underground Covert is made out of narrow corridors and countless turns, so speed is less important than persistence.

And Paz is determined to get his hands Makeiset, who runs for his life and tries every trick possible to shake off his pursuer or slow him down. Nothing works. Paz’ blind rage trumps everything. There is no place to run, no place to hide, no help to be had from others.

When he finally does get a hold of him, when his fingers goes around the guy’s neck and Paz yanks him backwards in mid-sprint, there is a satisfying cut-off scream that ends when Paz slams Makeiset’s back against the wall.

Breathing hard, Paz uses all of his height and bulk to loom while venting a little by slamming him against the wall again, three or four times for good measure. “Listen to me, you insignificant little turd, if I ever hear you badmouthing my sister again, it will be the last thing you do.”

Makeiset tries to push him away, tries to pry his fingers off him, but it’s not working. At all. “I just said… she’s weak. And she is! Skinny, weak and no fighter.”

Growling, Paz plants a fist into Makeiset’s ribs where no hard armor can protect him from the harsh impact and the wheeze of pain is music to his ears. “You question her Mandokarla?” He punches the ribs again and then plants a shoulder against him to keep him pinned against the wall instead of collapsing to the floor. “She saved Din from bleeding to death. She crashed a frigging ship into the killer of Davarax as he was about to cut my head off. She has faced things that would have given you nightmares. And you have the nerve to call her weak?” 

Paz grabs Makeiset by the breastplate, yanks him forward and sends him slamming face first into the opposite wall and then grabs his neck to hold him upright and pressed against it. “You will apologize to her. And you will mean it. Understand?”

Makeiset garbles something. It sounds like ‘yes’.

Paz lets go and the guy crumbles into a heap on the floor. He glares at the coughing and cringing shape. “If bodies were built on courage, she would have been twice the size of you.” The contempt he feels for Makeiset is dripping from every word. “You don’t deserve to wear that helmet.”

Walking away, Paz fights against the urge to pummel the guy some more.

Life as a Mandalorian is rough, yet Liita can handle it, he knows that. She can take a punch and hand out a punch, no problem. But what Paz will not tolerate is someone making his little sister sad, or have her doubt her place in the Covert or their clan.

When he comes back to the room, Paz finds Liita and Raga sitting on the bed and he marches over to crawl in and sit with them. Wrapping his arms around Liita, he leans over and gently taps his helmet against Raga’s.

Squirming and trying to push him away, Liita makes an annoyed grunt. “What did you do? Where did you go?”

Paz hugs her closer. “I had to get away from you for a bit. You smell.”

“I do not smell!” Liita declares with no small amount of outrage.

Raga shrugs, joining in on the lie with glee. “You kind of do. Like a wet Wookiee.”

“Do not.” Liita turns her glare towards Raga and absently leans back against Paz, relaxing. “Liar.”

“You want to go to the market in town tomorrow, Shorty?” Paz asks.

Liita frowns and glances back at him over her shoulder. “You want to go? With me?” Her voice is dripping with suspiciousness.

“Yeah.” Paz replies, knowing there is one thing she won’t be able to resist. “I need your help to find a pipe sleeve or a clamp for my vambrace. The tube is leaking again.”

Liita grunts with reluctant approval. “What you really should do is replace the entire vambrace. But, fine, we can try to keep you from turning into a walking pyre.” She leans back against him again and gets comfortable. “What you’re going to have to look for is-”

And off she goes on a rant about parts and materials that some Paz partially know about and others he has only heard of in legends from ancient times. But, the most important bit, is how her facial expression is now back to slightly annoyed and secure to the point of arrogant in her knowledge.

That is worth hours of waiting for his little sister to decide what to buy at that stupid market tomorrow.

[handy-dandy-monster-candy]

Primrose, part One

Rating: SFW Length: 1929 Pairing: Male Reader x Male Orc (both cis)

Just a bit of fluff during these trying times.

xxx

I see him one bright summer morning in my grandmother's garden, near the edge of her property where the forest kisses the grass. I find him sleeping between the rosemary and the hydrangeas, curled up in the shade of a willow tree, barefoot and smelling of sweet wine. The morning sun has yet to reach him and so the dew still clings to him yet, making him almost seem to shimmer like a daydream in the dappled light.

He's big even for an orc, though I admit I haven't met many. His skin is the colour of cherry blossoms except where it seems to be lacking pigment, like a sliver which looks like a widow's peak that disappears into his vivid pink hair, and a splotch that spreads like a butterfly across his sharp cheekbones and the bridge of his nose. His hair is a rich pink colour, long and thick and braided loosely, the ribbon almost lost to the clover and lemongrass he’s lying on. I take a moment to study him among the birdsong and the stirring of the cicadas in the forest, watching the rise and fall of his broad, hairy chest where it's exposed by buttons either undone or lost to the night's festivities.

He's the most handsome man I've ever seen, and I almost feel remorse when I upend a bucket of water over his head.

He snorts and gasps, splutters and coughs, looking about him wildly as he flails and struggles to right himself from his lazy sprawl. "What in the hell?" he exclaims, breathless and agog, and when he turns his baby blue eyes up to meet mine, they go wide as dinner plates.

"You're crushing the lemongrass," I tell him, keeping my face and tone neutral while I smother my amusement.

"Did you just soak me?" he asks, something like awe stealing across his face.

"You're crushing the lemongrass," I say again, propping my dripping bucket against my hip through the overalls I'm wearing. "My lemongrass. Get out of my garden, you drunk."

It seems he can contain himself no longer; he throws his head back and roars with laughter until tears gather in his eyes. "And here I heard no one but a canny old crone lived in this cottage!"

"My grandmother," I supply, feeling my lips curve up despite myself. "I'm just a canny young bastard."

"And what happened to the crone?" asks the orc, getting up and pulling his shirt over his head to wring it out over the hydrangeas.

I can't help but notice that his torso is thick and muscled, and that the dense curls on his chest go all the way down his soft belly. Here, they turn white along with his skin in a broad swathe, and I find myself wondering where else his skin changes colour beneath his clothes.

"See something you like?"

My eyes snap back up to the orc's face, and where I'm expecting a smug, lascivious smirk, there is instead a bemused, almost shy smile. I know that I don't blush when I'm embarrassed, but I'm surprised to see that he does, two spots of red blooming across his cheeks like roses.

"She fell and broke her hip three weeks ago," I tell him, and I make a point to look only at his face while he puts his shirt back on. "She left me in charge of the house. What's it to you?"

The orc holds up his hands, and I see that one palm is white as cream. "Only curious," he assures me, turning his gaze to the cottage behind me. "Nice place."

I give him a very flat look. "Try to rob me and you'll regret it."

Once again he laughs, gesturing with his hands as if to fend me off. "Easy, easy! Are you always so hostile?"

"Only to strangers who pass out drunk in my herb garden."

He smiles, then, and I curse him internally; of course he'd have dimples. "Well, what if we weren't strangers? I'm Primrose, but most just call me Prim. You are?"

I feel my eyes narrow as I weigh my options, absently drumming my fingers against the side of my bucket. I debate telling him my name, but his disarming smile pries it out of my mouth before I can think better of it.

Primrose’s eyes light up. “What a pretty name. It suits you. Not like mine.”

“Oh?” I call over my shoulder as I turn to head back to the house, pretending to be bored of the stranger who tromps through the herbs behind me in his haste to follow. “I’m sure I don’t care why.”

“Oh, come on,” the big orc snorts. “‘Primrose’? For a man? ‘Prim’ is my only saving grace!”

“Don’t you fancy hearing ‘Rosie’?” I ask knowing that I’m being prickly, putting aside the bucket and reaching for the garden hose.

Primrose stops short, mouth opening and closing soundlessly before he can grumble, “Only my mother calls me that.”

“It’s a good name,” I say, turning to face him with the hose head in my hand. “It suits you. Unlike mine.”

Primrose laughs awkwardly, eyeing the hose like a snake about to bite. “Is that for me?”

I lift a brow. “Do you want breakfast, or not?”

His belly answers before his mouth can, rumbling loudly between us and causing him to splutter and cover it with his hands as if to silence it. “I suppose I do,” he sheepishly replies.

“Then I’ll hose the mud off your feet and you’ll go straight to the bath. I’ll wash your clothes while you soak the booze out of your system, feed you, and then you can get the hell off of my property.”

“Bossy,” Primrose says with a laugh, startling only a little when I turn the cold water of the hose on his feet. “I don’t have the foggiest where I might have lost them.”

“Your marbles?” I drawl, and I thrill at the quick grin it earns me from the orc.

“My boots.”

“Hm. Come in, then. Mind the door.” I warn him just in time to save him a nasty knot on his forehead, leading him into my grandmother’s cottage to the big claw-foot tub that I begin to fill with steaming water. I add bath salts and rose oil for his muscles and for my own amusement, which he doesn’t seem to miss despite how straight-faced I keep.

“Very funny,” he rumbles, pulling the ribbon from his hair and shaking it out of its plait. It falls all the way down to his backside, and in that moment, I want nothing more than to put my fingers in it and play with it until I’ve figured out just how many shades of pink there are to find. I control my urges and rein in my impulses as I’ve always done, leaving briefly under the context of getting the washing machine ready and returning only once I’m sure he’s in the tub. It’s not hard to gauge when he enters; the cottage is quiet except for birdsong, and his groan is low and long.

I bustle in to gather his clothing and wrinkle my nose at the tattered hair ribbon; the silk was fine to begin with, but it’s been torn and tattered in small but noticeable ways along the ends, and the mud is in so deep that it may never come out. “You’ve ruined this ribbon,” I inform Primrose, pinning him with a scrutinising look that he wriggles under the weight of like an errant schoolboy.

“I don’t remember how or when,” he says. “Last night is… a blur, at best.”

“Hm,” I sniff, looking away from him to head for the door. “Maybe this will teach you not to drink so much in future. A ribbon can be replaced, but if you’d fallen asleep facedown in a ditch somewhere, the night’s rain would have drowned you. Is that how you want to go out? Drunk and drowning in a puddle somewhere?”

I almost feel sorry for the way I make him squirm, big as he is. He’s all muscle, barrel-chested and with hard, shapely legs that he draws up to his chest in the tub. “No,” he all but meeps, meek as a kitten. “My mother would bring me back just to kill me. I won’t drink so much again.”

“See that you don’t,” I reply, sweeping out of the room to get the laundry going. Halfway without thinking, I stash the ruined ribbon in my pocket and go upstairs to my room to fetch him another. I, too, have long hair that requires being tied back from time to time, so I grab one of my ribbons and place it on top of the pile when his clothing has been washed and dried. I set these just inside the bathroom door and inform him that breakfast will be ready within the hour, and so I hear him reluctantly begin the drawn-out process of unwillingly leaving a warm bath.

Breakfast is simple, but hearty. Eggs, potatoes, sausages—all locally sourced from the farmers in the countryside. I’m chewing on a mouthful of eggs when I remember I have a delivery to make to my grandmother’s egg supplier: a watermelon she had traded for that was a little overripe to eat, but perfect for the chickens as a treat. I inform Primrose of this and we both spend a moment looking at his feet, contemplating his predicament. In the end, I pick up the receiver in my grandmother’s kitchen and call a carriage for him, waving away his words of thanks.

“I mean it,” he insists. “If this house had been empty, I’d have had to walk all the way back to town barefoot.”

“It would have taught you a lesson, at least,” I say, and this time I can’t help the little smirk that steals across my face.

Primrose laughs, loud and joyful. “You’re a viper! Can nothing I say earn me any sweetness?”

“You want sweetness?” I ask, and I can feel myself smiling now. “Don’t pass out in my garden next time.”

Primrose leans in across the porch where we’re awaiting his carriage. “‘Next time’?”

“Oh, don’t read into it,” I huff, shaking my head and leaning against the railing. “You want sweetness, you need a better impression than what you’ve given. There’s Mr. Higgens now.” I gesture with my glass of lemonade, and Primrose’s expression falls.

“Ah.” We’re silent as the carriage pulls up the dirt road to the front door, and I wave to the driver and exchange pleasantries as Primrose reluctantly heads down the front porch steps. He looks back up at me when his feet hit the dirt, and I almost laugh at the way his big blue eyes look almost childishly hopeful. “Would you soak me if I visited again?”

“I might,” I say nonchalantly, tilting my head this way and that. “I might not.”

Primrose grins, and all at once all the wind is under his sails again. “Then I’ll see you tomorrow,” he says, waving exuberantly from the carriage after he’s boarded it. I wave back, bemused by the morning’s events, and watch the carriage until it disappears around a woody bend and completely out of view. I go back inside and wash the breakfast crockery, shaking my head at myself and my foolishness when I find the ruined ribbon in my pocket when I’m wiping my hands on my jeans.

What was I doing? I had a watermelon to deliver.

[pm-my-hubbies]

Who Are You Talking To | C.E

Summary: Reader is fed up with Chris not spending time with her on her week-long break.

Pairing: Chris Evans x Black!Reader

Word Count: 1.8k

Warning(s): None!

A/N: I accidentally shared this through my personal account! I apologize for any confusion if I tagged you the first time!

Chris was ecstatic when I informed him of the dates for my Fall Break.

He planned out everything we would do together. From planting a blanket in the middle of a park for a lovely picnic to strolling through farms for a pumpkin to carve and sit on our porch. He did all of that.

Yet he’s one strike away from me slapping the shit out of him. He’s been blowing me off every second and I’m due to return for work in two days. We hadn’t done any of what he promised we would accomplish together weeks ago. Instead, he handled work business downstairs for the first part of the day and followed that up with indulging in his own hobbies. I wasn’t a part of any of it.

To add on to it, his Zoom sessions weren’t successful and that prompted him to radiate negativity. Dinner time consisted of him giving me short answers or grunts and through it all, I remained optimistic. I figured being positive and not calling him out on his behavior right then would flip a switch in him to acknowledge how he was acting towards me but nothing happened.

My feet connected with the cold wooden flooring, goosebumps rising on the parts of my body that were exposed because of the tank top and pajama shorts I wore. The clock read 11:54 p.m. I’m praying Chris let Dodger out for the last time this evening.

The volume of the television in the living room increased the closer I dragged my feet to where I presumed he would be resting. Turning the corner, Dodger was the first one I spotted as he slept soundly on his stuffed animal right by the entrance to the room. Chris, on the other hand, watched CNN on blast as if he was an old man struggling to hear; his arms were folded across his chest while he laid on his side and blankly stared at the bright screen.

I rolled my eyes at the absurdity of my week spent at home. “Chris.” I called in a firm voice that was loud enough for Dodger to only blink his eyes open and instantly travel back to Dreamland.

My boyfriend only shifted his gaze to look at me. “Hm?”

“Did you let Dodge out one last time?”

“Mm-mm.”

Breathe Y/N, breathe. I let out a soft sigh as I bent down to gently shake the canine awake. “Dodger, honey. Let’s go outside.” I knew from Chris’ response he wouldn’t be letting our dog out anytime soon. The man would probably drag himself down the hall to bed as the sun rose for a new day.

Dodger simply obeyed my soft command by standing and putting on a show of dramatically stretching. As we made our way towards the back door right behind my miserable boyfriend, I made sure to cut my brown eyes at his lounging figure and hoped he could feel my glare.

Once again, my skin tingled as the cool night air caressed my legs and arms. To keep myself warm, I folded my limbs across my chest, rocking on the balls of my feet. My eyes managed to follow Dodger’s sniffing silhouette in the darkness but as soon as he began the squat for a number two, I looked away.

By now, Chris had shut off the loud tv. Finally.

“I thought you said we would be hanging out for my Fall Break?” I questioned with my back facing him as I kept my eyes on the dog.

“What?”

“I thought you wanted to hang out with me for my break. Week-long, might I add.”

“We are.”

“No we’re not, Chris. And you know it.” I sighed as I moved to slide the door closed but ceased my movement to leave an opening for Dodger in case he finished early. With my hands on my hips, I rotated around to stare down Chris. “You’ve spent every single day downstairs taking care of business with A Starting Point and work, which I have no problem with. It’s what you do afterwards that bothers me. Barely talking to me or not at all and then you sit down here to do whatever. I was trying to be positive and give you your space but now—”

“But now your little feelings are hurt, right?” he snapped. “You’re hurt because I can’t devote 100% of my attention to you on your little break? News flash: everything isn’t about you, Y/N. So, stop your whining and actually think about what I’m going through.”

This would’ve shattered a younger version of myself. But after years of reflection, I realized I was always given the opportunity to fight back instead of wallowing in my tears.

First, I glanced to my left. Then to my right. No sign of life. I grimaced at my boyfriend. “You must not be talking to me.” I indicated with a point towards my chest. “You must be talking to this goddamn wall.” I sassed, jabbing my thumb to the wall behind me.

Suddenly, for the first time in the year Chris and I have been together, his eyes were size of saucers as it dawned on him what he’d done. And how I responded.

Tonight, was his first time taking his anger out on me. Yes, we’ve had our arguments, but those moments were different. This happened to be the time where the world was against Chris and rather than rely on me to comfort him (as I usually would), he was victimizing himself. He probably expected my body to rack with sobs at the harshness of his words, but I was through with that shit tonight.

“Since you wanna pull a Karen on me, your ass can sleep on the couch tonight.” I punished him. In that moment, I felt the softness brushing against my legs. Dodger was finally in. I pulled the door closed all the way this time and locked it. “Come on Dodger, your dad is being an asshat. You can sleep with me.”

Chris was frozen in his spot as the both of us moved past him. I made sure to give him a little bump on the way with my shoulder.

While waiting for Dodger to grasp his animal in his mouth, I observed him throw Chris a quick glance as if telling him that he fucked up. Funnily enough, our dog was the first to exit the scene and hold his head high as he trekked to the bedroom.

“I’m locking that fucking door tonight. Don’t even try it. You made your bed, now lay in it.” I dictated.

~*~

Surprisingly, I slept like a baby. Maybe it’s because I finally said something to Chris about his behavior lately. The previous nights, he would slumber away while I laid awake wondering if we would even spend time together before I headed back to work. Calling him out felt right.

I took care of my morning routine before unlocking the bedroom door and calling for Dodger to wake up. What I didn’t expect on the other side was the tray we roll out for sick days to be standing in front of the door.

Dodger was planning on being difficult as he hadn’t moved from his spot. This gave me ample time to study the tray with a covered meal placed on top and a horizontally folded card with my name scribbled on it.

“You were right last night. I have been distant throughout your break and I’m sorry for ruining the plans I promised. It’s a short amount of time left with you but we’re going to get started early. Eat the breakfast I made for you and then freshen up by putting on your favorite dress. Meet me at the car by 11.”

I chuckled at the message but decided to follow his set of instructions, nonetheless.

~*~

As promised, Chris drove us to the pumpkin patch further away from where we lived for more privacy and intimate time together. We spent the whole ride discussing last night’s events and catching up on the conversations we were meant to have throughout my week in our house. When he parked the car, he suggested we snap as many couple selfies but made sure to emphasize the idea of him taking pictures of me.

“They’re for my phone.” He lied through his teeth as I raised a brow at his idea.

The truth: Chris yearned to share pictures of me on his Instagram. At least half of his feed consisted of me, Dodger, or nature and rarely ever himself. I worried he would lose followers for never updating them on how he was doing but he dismissed my worries with a kiss to my forehead and a, “It’ll be fine, who cares?”

For a while, we explored the farm with our hands linked and eyes moving about at the pumpkins of all shapes and sizes. It wasn’t until we’d reach the halfway point did I realize we didn’t have an exact clue as to which type of pumpkin we were searching for.

“I was thinking one of those big, tall pumpkins.” Chris answered after I asked him what our goal was.

“The ones that look like an orange squash?”

“Yeah.”

“Why…?”

“I don’t know, I’ve always wanted one.” He shrugged. His face held a gentle look of content.

“Well, if a squash-lookin’ pumpkin is what my big baby wants, then a squash-lookin’ pumpkin is what he shall get.”

Chris released my hand to wrap it around my waist and pull me closer to him. I felt my cheeks heat up as he placed a kiss to the crown of my head. After all this time together, he still managed to have me acting like a schoolgirl that somehow caught the attention of her longtime crush.

“Thank you baby.” He answered. “I know I already said this twice; through the note and in the car. But, I’m truly sorry for how I acted last night and the days before that. I was stupid in bottling everything up and not confiding in you like I normally do. Doesn’t justify any of what I said last night but I figured you had a lot on your plate and didn’t want to bother you with my own.”

I paused my walking to glance up at him with what I hoped was love in my eyes. “Chris, you could never bother me. As a couple, we talk to each other. Even if we’ve got problems of our own at the same time? I want you to come to me and I come to you so we can figure things out.” I stood on my toes to press a kiss to the underside of his jaw due to his towering figure. “I love you and accept your apology.

“I love you too.”

“You better. Because my ass wouldn’t be helping you find that ugly pumpkin to make you happy.”

“Hey!” he pouted before I shut him up with a kiss.

Taglist: @chaneajoyyy​ @daddyslittlecaptain​ @tantricevans​ @liquorlaughslove​ @nina-skyee​ @pinkgirlinablueworld​ @norababora @bakarilennox​ @rubyy98​

[19gumi]

WHEN THE SUN SETS | KUROO TETSUROU

Summary: Kuroo hates the way he can never tell what’s on your mind (and also, you eat your cherries ridiculously slowly)

Genre: Fluff (childhood friends to lovers, mutual pining)

Word count: 1.8k

Porcelain plates now stained with chocolate are neatly tossed to the side, bearing the remnants of the croissants Kuroo treated the two of you with. Secluded in your favorite part of the park, you try to get one last whiff of the sweet pastry that you ate a little too quickly for your liking, making a mental note to pay that bakery another visit soon.

The final beams of sunlight graze your face as you observe the birds above you, hurrying to find a shelter before the rosy sky hues turn dark blue. You’ve missed their renowned song – the winter fell into a silence after their departure, sometimes too deafening when paired up with the freezing December cold.

Your field of vision is obstructed by a muscular arm reaching for the cherries in the bowl placed beside your head. You observe his Adam’s apple move as he swallows the fruit, eyes focused on the horizon sprawled in front of him. And then they suddenly shift to your figure, your head soundly placed in his lap.

“You okay?” he asks, thumb rubbing circles in your shoulder.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Dunno. You seemed lost in thought.”

You’re about to respond when his body abruptly shifts under yours, the motion prompting you to sit up straight. Kuroo’s hand flies to the back of his head, and you assume he’s received a hit to it.

That is shortly proven to be true when a distressed mother shouts after her son who you don’t even notice at first, standing a foot away from the two of you. His arms are folded behind his back, lips pouting as his eyes search for the ball he had previously been playing with.

Kuroo’s furrowed brows shift back to their original shape, face muscles relaxing as he takes in the sight of the kindergartener. The mother pants as she approaches the two of you, crouching down next to the child that you assumed wasn’t more than 5 years old.

“Hi, I’m very sorry to have caused-“

Kuroo swats his arms in the air. “It’s not a big deal really, didn’t even hurt.” He then smiles at the kid, extending his hand towards him. “Nice to meet you. I’m Kuroo.”

The kid buries his head in the crook of his mother’s neck as a response, refusing Kuroo’s handshake. She spots the ball and sends him off to pick it up, sighing deeply.

“He gets shy sometimes,” she chuckles, scratching her forehead.

Couple of more apologies and one goodbye later, the sun now long hidden and the moon greeting you (this time only one half of it), Kuroo wishes he could take a peek at your mind.

He knows that’s not possible, though, leaving him with the only option of staring at the side of your face, alluringly illuminated under the evening sky. Admiring the faint glint in your eyes, he sighs when he realizes he is about to go to bed with the same unanswered questions another night in a row.

Kuroo is too lost in the way his fingertips itch to sink themselves in your cheeks, his body starving for that addicting warmth of yours – the one he sensed once for the first time many years ago and never wanted to let go of again.

You turn your head around unreasonably quickly – he’s unprepared and so, so exposed. The look in his eyes is soft, way too soft for you to have a full view of it. He hasn’t said a word, but the faint burning in the pit of his stomach convinces him he’s spilled the most tender secrets of his.

“You know,” you begin, reaching for the bowl with cherries behind you. You chew painfully slow, he thinks, the time that it takes for you to swallow the cherry seeming like an eternity.

“That child from earlier,” you continue at last, fiddling with your hands in your lap. “He reminded me of myself when I was his age.”

Kuroo doesn’t know what he was hoping for, but your words do cause a change in his stance. “How so?”

And there you are, flashing him your signature smile one more time. The enigmatic one, the exact one that he’s been trying to decipher unceasingly.

The same one that causes him to miss serves in practice.

The one that keeps him from entering the world of his dreams at night, but also the one that makes him feel like he’s living the sweetest fantasies of his when he gets to see it up close.

“Just like the birds we watched earlier, the pink sky alerts everyone that it’s time to find a shelter for the night,” you glance at him, to which he nods, prompting you to continue. “My mom would always tell me to go straight home once the sky changed colors, and you know I always followed that rule.”

“Yeah, I remember going home and sulking during dinner because I didn’t get to spend more time with you.”

He mouths an ‘ouch!’ when you poke him in the ribs, clutching at his chest. “Dramatic much?” you chuckle, rubbing circles in his back.

“Anyway,” you continue, retracting your hand. “Sometimes I’d lose my toys just like that child from earlier did, but I wouldn’t have enough time to look for them. The street lights would already be turned on and I didn’t want the monsters to catch me.”

Kuroo lets out a hearty laugh. “Monsters? What monsters?”

You shift your eyes towards your hands, which he sees as a chance to inch closer, just enough for him to feel your shoulder against his.

“Dunno,” you say. “But I knew once I’d reach my mom’s arms that I was safe. She’d always nag at me for forgetting to wash my hands – when in reality I didn’t, I always remembered to do it. But I guess I craved that noise which served as an additional proof that I was secure between the four walls of my room, when the silence of the night was the loudest.”

“Well aren’t you a poetic one [name],” he teases, wrapping an arm around your shoulders.

A hush descends between the two of you. Kuroo can feel his lips bruising as he chews on them, unsure whether to verbalize the words that could possibly hint at the desires he held close to his heart.

In the end he does it anyway. “It’s way past sunset now, though. So why,” his voice cracks, before he swiftly disguises it as a cough. Or at least he tries to. “Why aren’t you rushing to get home? What if as we speak, the monsters are actually coming to get you?”

It’s your turn to stare at his side profile now, your pulse forming an unsteady rhythm in your throat as you study the slope of his nose, unsure of what was about to come next.

A confession? Were you really ready to ruin a decade long friendship just because rather than playing catch with him you wanted to kiss his lips instead?

His question is silly, you aren’t that eight year old child anymore – the one who’d run away and leave their friends in the street the same instant the clock stroke seven-thirty.

It’s way past seven now, air breezy and short of any sunrays piercing through it, but not even the scariest monster in this world could make you budge from the tranquility surrounding you in this very moment.

It’s almost as if the thought of a life without Kuroo Tetsurou horrifies you more than anything else that’s out in the wild, waiting for you.

“That’s what I was wondering too”, you sigh. “It might be because you’re here.”

And just like that, your secret is disclosed; it’s a simple statement that makes your lungs feel lighter, the burden of having to bear it within your chest for so long now easing with every exhale you take.

He gulps. The arm around your shoulders seems to have become stiffer, too. He’s already close enough for you to feel his breath on your cheek and all you wish for is to lean into his embrace, all of this talk turning your eyelids heavy.

“But I was there all those years ago as well. What changed?”

“Well, for starters, I was what, eight years old?” you scoff, meeting his eyes momentarily before you let your head fall on his chest, inhaling deeply. You have yearned for the scent of the fresh new leaves ever since they wilted last October. “I guess I wasn’t in love with you back then, Tetsu.”

It’s silent. You think it’s unfair – everything you’ve built over the years rapidly slipping through your fingers, just because of one sentence full of longing, anticipation. But then his arm travels down to wrap itself around your waist, the other one finding its way to the nape of your neck.

It’s not the first time he’s heard those words leave your mouth - his imagination has deceived him multiple times already. He’d wake up only to find himself clinging onto his pillow, providing enough heat to trick him into thinking it belonged to you.

However, your scent is way too real for everything to be fake this time around; it simply can’t be. The words he’s been longing to hear are there, the confession lingering in the air only for him and the trees around you to know.

All it takes now is for you to learn his answer, even though the way he’s pulling you into his body gives you an idea of what it might be.

“Do you know why I never went home before you did?” he asks.

“Mm. Why?” your voice is muffled by his hoodie, the vibration sending chills down his spine. He’s convinced now. This is truly his reality he’d always been wishing for.

“Because you were there,” he tilts his head, moving your chin so you can look up at him. He’s grinning, and if he didn’t just admit he was in love with you, you’d probably be now telling him how lame you thought he was. “I couldn’t understand it then, the way your presence made me feel at peace. I realized what it was only when we started high school. I didn’t want to say anything, though.”

“So?”

“So,” he says, his hand leaving your waist to join his other one on your face, lightly squishing your cheeks. “I’m very much in love with you, too.”

His gaze momentarily shifts to your lips, before it’s back on your eyes. “I really want to kiss you, [name].”

The entirety of your body heat accumulates in your face, and his fingers effortlessly melt against it, your body sinking into the grassy earth as if it’s sand.

“Do you?” you ask, your thumb grazing his bottom lip.

“Yes. Can I?”

You nod, and Kuroo swears his heart skips a beat. Hypnotized, he allows his eyes to flutter shut, ready to memorize all the various flavors you have to offer.

When finally he gets to savor your bare, delicate skin - sweeter than anything he has ever tasted before, it’s like the world stops for the both of you.

Or maybe you only drift to your own, each swipe of his tongue guiding you through a new route, the destination of which has yet to be discovered.

[jaskiersvalley]

💜✨ This is an Amazing Creator Award! Your creations are incredible, and they light up every dashboard they land on. Pass this on to eight of your favorite creators to show your appreciation and let them know their art is loved! ✨💜

Bready, my wonderful friend. Thank you for this ask, it really made me smile. You're an eternal delight and I want to say thank you for your thoughtfulness and constant kindness. Have some silly Lambskel as a token of my gratitude.

CW: Clowns (which reminds me of this post)

Children grew up at an alarming rate. Eskel could have sworn it was only a few blinks ago that Geralt took guardianship of baby Ciri with Yennefer. Now, she was turning six and Eskel had been roped into chaperoning a birthday party. Again. Though he did have a scrawled invite arrive in the post, painstakingly stickered, glittered and signed by Ciri. It was nice that she wanted him there but Eskel knew that if she hadn't invited him as a guest then Geralt would have been gently bullying him into helping out on the day anyway. Not like Eskel minded, he loved Ciri and would happily do anything for her.

The big day rolled round and Eskel turned up early at Geralt's house. There were already balloons around the door, the house inside was decorated with birthday banners and, in true Ciri fashion, dragons. That year she had very sweetly demanded a clown for her birthday and Eskel was curious to see whether Geralt had given in despite his strong dislike of them. Why someone felt the need to put on so much makeup and parade around in ridiculous clothes was beyond reason. Once, while drunk, Geralt had admitted it made him uneasy to the point of it actually being a fear.

"Ah, you're here," Geralt said as he stepped out of the kitchen and spotted that Eskel had let himself in. "I need to have a word with you."

A strong hand wrapped around Eskel's bicep and tugged him into the kitchen. He went willingly enough, curious as to what secret Geralt was going to let him in on this time. They stood in silence for a moment, Geralt watching him with serious eyes.

"Don't fuck the clown."

Frankly, Eskel was a little offended at the request. "Is this because of the demon stripper Yen hired for your birthday?" The look Geralt gave him was answer enough. "Come on, she was hot, was off the clock by the time I took her home. And she kept her horns on."

The punch to the arm should have been expected and Eskel grumbled as he rubbed the soreness left behind. Before he could complain, movement in the garden caught his attention. There was the clown, hauling a large, colourful bag to the small gazebo that had been set up. Suddenly, Eskel understood Geralt's request and he promptly decided it wasn't something to pay attention.

"Oh."

"No." Geralt said flatly as Eskel took one last look at the clown and turned to go out into the garden. "Eskel, I'm serious. No! Don't fuck the clown!"

"I won't," Eskel called over his shoulder. "I'd let him fuck me."

Unfortunately for Eskel, Yennefer was in the garden and seemingly in on the "don't let Eskel fuck the clown" mission. Which was quite rude on several levels. Firstly, Eskel was offended that the other two thought he would jeopardise Ciri's birthday party for the sake of a fuck. Secondly, he was an adult who did not need to be guarded and protected. If he wanted to stick his dick in someone, nobody but he and the intended person had any right to object.

As it was, he still found out the clown was called Lambert and, if Eskel focused then he could make out the most sinfully plush lips under the layers of makeup. It was on pretty thick but Eskel couldn't feel like he was in a place to judge, he'd never had to dress up as a clown before so that slathering was probably normal. It was difficult to make out the true features of Lambert under all of it but Eskel knew for sure he was handsome.

There was no time to get to know Lambert any better because Ciri and her friends turned up in a wild, screaming mass and it was all hands up deck. Balloon animals were the start of Lambert's entertainment and Eskel had to give it to him, he was good. Especially when he looked at the parents with a half made giraffe that most definitely looked like a cock before becoming something more child friendly. Eskel didn't think he'd snorted that hard in a long while. It actually hurt.

Next came the cake and Lambert took a well earned break. Well, not quite, because he happily made crowns for all the adults, showing them how to untwist them into swords if they wanted a fight later on when the children had gone. And he winked at Eskel when he gave him a crown and a dubious looking sword that was most certainly two twists away from being a cock.

"Just how many balloon cock shapes do you know?" He had blurted out and quietly adored the smug smirk Lambert sported.

"All of them. But I like to model them on real life ones. And I don't have a model at the moment."

Eskel barely held back on a guffaw at such a blatant come on. It was only Geralt's grip on the back of his neck that held him in check, along with the low growl of "you will not fuck the clown."

"Not while he's wearing large circus trousers," Eskel had agreed.

His composure was totally wrecked by Lambert cocking an eyebrow at him. "Want to see what's under the big top?" Because yes, Eskel really did.

After cake and presents Lambert had a set of magic tricks to show. it started off quite well, nothing impressive but the cards were fun to follow and Eskel saw how sleight of hand worked.

"And now," Lambert announced, pulling a top hat from under the table. "I will make a rabbit appear!"

The top hat did indeed look empty and Eskel was curious whether it would be a real rabbit and whether Lambert kept it to a traditional white on. Getting the children to join in with the chanting, Lambert tapped a wand against the hat and reached into it, only to frown. Rummaging in the hat, he cursed much to the children's delight.

"It seems our magic has gone a bit wonky," Lambert said, not hiding his agitation very well. "Rather than manifesting a rabbit in the hat, we have conjured him up somewhere in the garden."

"Maybe he's up your sleeve?" Ciri called. "You should check!"

There was no way the rabbit was up his sleeve but Lambert dutifully reached in. He pulled out a card, a couple of coins, an unending row of silk tissues, another wand that erupted into a bouquet of flowers. All of it was met by loud laughter and cheering from the children who were rolling around laughing the more frantically Lambert pulled things out.

By pure chance, Eskel gazed out over the garden, only to spot a large white rabbit merrily hopping towards the house. Quietly, he went to grab it, cradling the obviously well loved and spoilt creature, petting it out of habit. Watching Lambert grit his way through a few more rather lacklustre and failed magic tricks, Eskel couldn't help but be thoroughly charmed. He almost missed the growling sigh from next to him.

"Fine. Fuck the clown." Geralt looked utterly resigned.

With Lambert looking a little frayed around the edges, Eskel finally took pity on him. Walking up behind the children, he cleared his throat.

"There I was, trying to have a slice of cake when this suddenly appeared on my plate instead. I don't suppose any of you know anything about it?"

The cheer from the kids was deafening but Eskel only had eyes on Lambert and the almost palpable relief rolling off him in waves.

"Maybe if Lambert would care to whisk this rabbit away, it might bring my slice of cake back."

Rabbit carefully handed over with one last scritch between the ears, Eskel stepped back and happily joined in with the chanting to hide the rabbit in the top hat again. Thankfully it was a success and no rabbit was visible when Lambert showed his audience with a flourish.

After that the children were ushered away and Lambert was left in peace to pack away. Well, mostly in peace. Eskel lingered and watched, curious to see Lambert without the clown makeup.

"That was an entertaining set," Eskel commented, sorely tempted to casually lean against the leg of a gazebo. But it would never hold his weight so he refrained.

"Fucking Rabbit," Lambert growled, much more rigid and tight now that he wasn't performing for children. "I'm going to eat him for dinner if he does that again."

"And how often do you threaten him with that?"

After a telling silence, Lambert snorted. "Every other day. He's a bastard."

Valiantly, Eskel held back from commenting how pets usually turned out like owners. But then he'd have to admit to Lil Bleater being an absolute menace and what would that say about him? Instead he straightened up and sauntered closer to Lambert.

"So, the offer of seeing a pitched tent still available?"

He crowded against Lambert who gave him a once over before nodding. It was all the permission Eskel needed before kissing him, heedless of how makeup smeared against his skin. Behind them, the door to the house was slammed shut and Eskel had to pull away with a chuckle.

"I'm under strict instructions not to fuck the clown." His eyes were dark as he took in the smudged and ruined makeup around Lambert's lips. "So, either the clown fucks me, or you can take your makeup off."

There was hesitation in Lambert's expression. He was obviously torn, lower lip caught between his teeth. "I'm not-" he broke off and his shoulders hunched. "I'm not handsome like you under the makeup."

"I think you're plenty handsome enough. Why don't I help you take it off?"

Another pause before Lambert gave a nod. He sat on one of the chairs after handing Eskel the makeup remover and wipes. It was slow progress but the more Eskel saw, the more he liked. One half of Lambert's face was done and he flinched away from Eskel's touch.

"It's not pretty," he warned and Eskel nodded before reaching again. That time Lambert didn't move away but he was tense as a scar was unveiled.

"You worry that it's not pretty," Eskel rumbled, "yet you called me handsome with all my scars. Double standards much?"

There was no reply but Lambert couldn't meet his eyes. Gently, Eskel wiped the last of Lambert's makeup off and sat back with a grin. "Knew it. Utterly, devastatingly handsome. I'm afraid it's terminal."

That drew a laugh from Lambert at least and Eskel leaned in to kiss the giggled from his lips.

"I think Geralt and Yennefer can handle the kids from here on," Eskel purred. "Why don't I take you home?"

As they left, he sent a cheeky wave to Geralt who was watching them from the kitchen window. Eskel couldn't resist sending him a text from the car though.

"Thanks for the fun afternoon. Don't worry, I didn't fuck the clown. We'll play it safe though, he'll keep the shoes on to keep my knees comfortable though."

The reply from Geralt didn't bear repeating but it had Eskel throwing his head back and laughing.

[tinytonysnark]

Hi Nisha love, Stevetony for #40 (Making a goofy face until they notice and laugh) in the 50 wordless ways to say I love you prompt list if you're so inspired? <3

40. Making a goofy face until they notice and laugh. 2.1K words, stevetony, fluff, tw: Howard Stark’s A+ Parenting

six

The first thought Steve ever has about Tony is, he looks sad.

He’s making his way into the school by himself, cause he’s grown now — his Ma’s car is still at the drop-off where he can see her still blowing kisses at him through the window, but who’s gonna know — when his eyes land on them. 

There’s a man standing in front of a boy who looks smaller than Steve does, something he didn’t even know was possible — and the boy looks sad, shoulders hunched in and staring at the ground while the man seems to be scolding him, like his Ma does sometimes when he gets into a fight with the boys down the road. 

But unlike Steve, the boy doesn’t stare back and let it be known that those boys had it coming for talking like that with his chest puffed up because he’s mad — and not at all because he’s pulling in big gulps of air. 

Steve can’t see what the man’s face must be like since his back is to him but he imagines it must be angry and that just makes him angry  cause the man seems like a big old bully and Steve hates bullies.

If the man wasn’t a grown up Steve might have just gone over there to tug the boy away and yell at the man about maybe picking on somebody his own size, but he promised his Ma he wouldn’t get into trouble — well, not on the first day at least. 

So instead, he sticks his tongue out at the man, blowing a raspberry at him that he doesn’t hear.

But the boy does. 

He looks, eyes darting up and around the man to stare at Steve who must have a silly look on his face because the boy looks a little shocked and his ears go red but there’s a smile, there and gone before he quickly looks back down at his feet. 

Steve decides then and there that this boy is going to be his friend and he waits for him, the man leaving with a dismissive wave as he walks over to his very shiny car. 

The boy watches him leave before making his way over to Steve, shoulders still hunched but not staring at the pavement anymore. “Hi. You - you didn’t have to wait for me.”

“Course I did,” Steve says with a shrug. “You and me are gonna be friends. I’m Steve Rogers,” he says, sticking his hand out for a shake. 

The boy stares at his outstretched hand for a moment before taking it with sweaty hands, “I’m Tony Stark and I - I really want to be your friend.”

“Well good, cause we’re going to be best friends,” Steve says confidently, dragging Tony through the front doors. “Come on, we can’t be late on our first day.”

[continue on AO3] or

***

twelve

“I’m just sayin’ that if you don’t come over for blueberry pie after Ma specifically baked it with you in mind, she’s gonna throw a fit,” Steve tells him, feet swinging under him because these benches were so high. 

Not because he’s short. 

It’s not. 

Tony’s hands are fidgeting, his fingernails plucking at the skin of his nail beds and Steve doesn’t even think about it when he reaches over to pry them apart. 

Tony just moves on to biting at the skin on his bottom lip. “Howard will be really mad if I miss dinner. He says the people coming over could really make or break the the company and he wants to make a good impression.”

His laugh is derisive when he tells Steve, “We have to be the picture perfect family complete with the great businessman but who’s also a loving father, the doting wife and mother with me staring as the golden son. What could possibly go wrong?”

Steve’s face must have morphed into the strange expression he does whenever Tony mentions anything about his home life because when he looks up from the plate of fries he’s not eating he gives a snort of laughter which only makes him embarrassed, covering his mouth like that would force it back in. 

“Shut up, you didn’t hear that,” Tony says, cheeks going pink. 

“Hear what?” Steve grins, swiping a handful of fries.

“Hey!”

“What? You’re gonna come over to eat my food so now I’m stealing yours,” Steve tells him. “Listen, you’re coming over today. Ma can be scary when she wants to be and not even your dad can stop her.”

Tony goes back to chewing on his lip. 

“Hey, trust me,” Steve says, grabbing at Tony’s hand. “It’s going to be okay.”

Tony looks down at their hands before looking right at Steve. “Okay.”

It doesn’t occur to him until much, much later that he and Tony held hands all through lunch and neither one had said anything. 

***

fourteen

They’re sitting in Math class — and why Tony is even in this class confuses Steve considering how smart he is — when he realises Tony isn’t paying attention to a single thing Mr.Vanko is saying. 

He’s staring at his phone, hidden behind his open textbook and he’s taking a selfie that Steve is just going to assume he’s sending to Rhodes because —

Because the other option is assuming he’s gonna send it to Stone who is a senior and all around jerk and Steve kinda wants to bash his head in whenever he sees the douche hanging around Tony and — well, Tony seems to enjoy Stone’s attention but there’s something not right about that guy and Steve —

Steve is not biased. He isn’t.

He makes a face at the camera when Tony angles the phone again and Tony doesn’t even notice until he looks at the picture.

He stifles a laugh into his hand but Mr. Vanko’s hearing is scary good and he always seems to have it out for Tony anyway so he turns away from the chalkboard to glare at where Tony sits. 

“Something funny, Mr. Stark?’

“No, no, just that you wrote out the equation wrong,” Tony says, shutting his book, his phone wedged between the pages.

“I doubt it,” Mr. Vanko sneers before looking at the board then scowling when he realises Tony is right. 

Steve tries not to roll his eyes because of course Tony is right. 

When he checks his messages later he sees that Tony had sent him the picture, with Tony front and centre but the perspective makes it look like Steve is popping right up from his head with a goofy look on his face.

He makes it his screensaver because really — who’s even going to know?

***

seventeen

Steve says the only reason Tony tries out for cheerleading is to be a rebel and to effectively drive Steve insane. 

Tony tells him that he does it so he can stay in shape since now he has to keep with Steve’s insane growth spurth over the past year and so he can be flexible and Steve — well, Steve tries not to go completely red at the implication in Tony’s tone. 

For all the years they’ve been friends, for all the dancing around they did about how they felt for each other — this, this is still new and real and Steve is completely terrified of messing this up. 

Losing Tony - that’s not even something his brain can comprehend. 

But when he shows up to practice, already making his way over to where the cheerleaders are to say hello and maybe steal a kiss, he thinks that Tony is trying to put him in an early grave because he’s standing there wearing the cheer uniform just —

The crop top and the skirt are fitted so well.  

For some reason, Steve’s brain latches onto the fact that Tony’s belly button is out.

He’s an innie. 

Steve must look an absolute fool right now because the cheerleaders burst into giggles around him, Tony included, who walks up to him and sweet jesus -

He shaved his legs and Steve thinks maybe there’s glittery body oil on them because there’s no way —

“Hi, handsome,” Tony smiles up at him. “You’ve got a real dumb look on your face so I’m assuming you like the uniform.”

Steve tries to say something back but his mouth just feels bone dry at the moment and he has to clear his throat to choke out a simple, “Yeah, baby. I really, really do.”

Tony kisses him, hard and fast -they’re lucky their teeth didn’t clack together - before pushing him off to the field. “Go on number 29! I can’t cheer for you if you’re terrible.”

“Thanks for that,” he says before hauling Tony in to kiss him once more, deeper and leaving him dazed before he runs back to his team. 

He gets a pom-pom thrown at him.

***

twenty-two

There’s a Taylor Swift song blasting from the speakers to commemorate Tony’s birthday but Steve — Steve can’t find Tony anywhere in this strange house he got off-campus that Steve is nearly certain is haunted because why else would it be so cheap it practically a robbery. 

Rhodes had mentioned to check the workshop but that had been the first place he looked anyway and he’s gone through the whole house at this point.

He’s standing by the kitchen before it comes to him and he’s off like a shot up the stairs, nearly bowling people over in his haste. 

He gets to Tony’s room, places the bag on the table and climbs through the windowsill when he spots him, sitting cross-legged on the roof. “Tony?”

The surprise on Tony’s face honestly makes the 4 hour long journey entirely worth it. 

“S-Steve? Ohmygod, Steve!” He yells, jumping up to crash into him and they nearly go skidding off the roof.

“Why don’t we head back in -”

“No, no, it’s fine,” Tony interrupts, “Let’s just sit out here.”

Steve isn’t really one to deny Tony anything, let alone on his birthday and definitely not when he’s beaming like that. 

He tugs Steve down, his back to Steve’s chest. “I - I got worried when you didn’t call. Thought maybe you forgot.”

Steve frowns, “Forgot? Baby, in these last 16 years I have never not once forgotten the most important date on my calendar and I ain’t gonna start now.”

He brings Tony’s hands up to him and places a kiss on the palm, “There was a slight hold up. Just, wait here.”

“There’s only one exit.”

“You say that like you haven’t rolled off a roof to prove a point before,” Steve tells him, reaching through the window to snatch the bag before coming back to sit in front of Tony. 

“Courtesy of the best bakery in New York,” Steve tells him, holding out the cupcake. “Bucky’s kitchen.”

He lights the candle he brought with him and sticks it in the middle. “Make a wish, Tones.”

Tony stares at him with a look so full of love with the flickering of the flame reflecting in his eyes that all the air rushes out of Steve’s lungs.

He blows out the candle before then promptly taking it out and smears the cupcake into Steve’s face that frosting goes up his nose. 

Tony laughs so hard when Steve just stares at him that he nearly does roll off the roof.

Tony makes it up to him by licking up all the frosting though. 

***

twenty-seven

Steve’s hands can’t stop shaking. 

He can’t believe that after months and months of planning, they’re finally here. 

That in just a few short minutes, he’s gonna get to call Tony his husband.

The doors open and Steve thinks his heart might have just stopped as he watches Tony walk towards him, resplendent in his tux and he just knows that the camera is recording his slack jawed expression because Tony is grinning at him as he makes his way down the aisle.

When they’re declared husbands, Steve kisses that grin right off his face and the camera catches their stupefied expressions. 

***

thirty

Tony drops the blanket, yelling out, “Peek-A-Boo!” 

Peter, completely amused, claps his tiny little hands from inside the crib. 

“The betrayal I feel right now is overwhelming,” Steve calls from the door of the nursery. “This is my favourite game.”

He crouches down next to Tony, both hiding behind the blanket before dropping it again, making silly faces. 

“Peek-A-Boo!”

Peter’s shriek of laughter can be heard all through the house.