#i could use some mittens coming up

[incorrect-hs-quotes]

Nepeta: :33 < raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens

Feferi: Make your lobster a nice sweater wit)( mittens. 38D

#submission #homestuck #incorrect homestuck quotes #nepeta leijon #feferi peixes #source: twitter #mod terezi #i could use some mittens coming up #it's gonna start snowing by the end of the month #i can feel it

[joelsgreys]

a safe haven l nine

Post Outbreak! Joel Miller x Female Reader

series masterlist l previous chapter l next chapter

summary: When you find out that you’re pregnant, everything comes crumbling down around you.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. (TW) THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS A SCENE THAT HEAVILY IMPLIES DOMESTIC VIOLENCE. this chapter it also contains a very uncomfortable scene with reader and Luke, but despite the sexual nature of the scene, READER DOES NOT GET SA, BUT SHE DOES GET INJURED. INJURY there is a description of an injury as the result of DV HEAVILY IMPLYING STRANGULATION. PLEASE HEED THE WARNINGS. pregnancy, mentions of high risk pregnancy (not reader), mentions of child loss (not reader), mentions of pregnancy related symptoms (missed menstrual cycle, morning sickness), protective Tommy Miller, protective Joel, and last but certainly not least, feral Joel. this chapter is a lot, just proceed with caution if anything in bold can be a potential trigger for you.

word count: 11.8k

October, 2024

It’s the middle of October.

By now, the pain had become almost unbearable. Time certainly wasn’t healing the wound. 

If anything, time only seemed to be making it worse.

So, so much fucking worse. 

It drags, and you almost feel as if you’re paralyzed by it. But the only thing that you can do about it, about any of this, is just pretend. 

Pretend everything is okay.

Pretend it doesn’t hurt.

Pretend you don’t feel empty.

Pretend you don’t need him.

But you do need him. Oh, how you fucking need him.

The hole in your heart is growing bigger by the day, and only Joel Miller is capable of filling the void. Only he has the ability to make you feel whole again. Complete.

“Be honest with me—what does this look like?”

You pause your knitting and glance over at Maria.

With her due date approaching, you had offered to help her prepare for the baby’s arrival. At about six months, Maria was expected to give birth towards the middle of winter season, and instead of trading or having to use rations for certain baby items, like blankets, little socks and mittens, you’d decided to show her how to make them instead. Not only was it saving her from having to trade or use her rations on things that could easily be knitted, but it served as a decent, albeit temporary, distraction, giving your mind the chance to focus on something else other than how deeply you were hurting without Joel.

Tilting your head slightly, you eye the soft, butter yellow wool she’s holding in her hands. “Um, is that the start of another baby blanket?”

“No.” Maria’s face falls. “It’s supposed to be a hat.”

“Oh. Um.” You lean forward in the brown leather armchair you’re perched on, squinting hard at it as she holds it up. “Okay, yeah, I can kind of see the shape of it now. I can totally see it being a little hat for the baby.” She tosses you a knowing smile and you squirm slightly, heat prickling at your ears.

“I appreciate you lying to me.” She giggles and sets down her knitting needles beside her on the couch along with the ball of wool yarn. Leaning back, she places both hands on her belly and sighs. “At the very least this child will never go without a blanket seeing as blankets are all I’m capable of making.”

You flash her a small, but reassuring smile.

“You’ll get the hang of it, Maria, I promise. It just takes some practice, that’s all.”

“Well, now that Luke has put me on strict bed rest until I have the baby, I’m going to have all the time in the world to practice,” Maria remarks, exhaling another sigh. Craning her neck, she peers at your own knitting project, which you’ve been working on in something of a secretive manner in your lap and out of the expectant mother’s view. “What are you making over there, anyway?”

Her timing couldn’t have been more perfect.

“I’m so glad you asked since I’m just about done.”

Crossing the last stitch, you set aside your knitting needles and then hold up the finished product. “What do you think of these?”

Maria’s hand flies to her mouth, tears welling up in her dark eyes the moment she sees the pair of little brown baby booties in your hands. “I’m sorry,” she apologizes, a tear rolling down the side of her face as you stand up and walk across her living room to present her with the shoes. Sitting down beside her, you hold them out in the palms of your hands. With trembling fingers, she accepts them. “Kevin had a pair just like these when he was a newborn. I kept them even after he’d outgrown them.” She lets out a small laugh in spite of herself. “You know, I’d always complain that he was growing up too fast. I used to wish that I could slow time down a little so I could enjoy my son being that young longer,” she admits, sniffing. She reaches up, dabbing at her damp eyes with one of her hands. “And now Kevin is frozen in time, forever a three year old little boy.”

She sets the booties down on her belly and inhales deeply, willing herself to keep her composure.

Swallowing back your own emotions, you brush a single, stray tear from her cheek with your thumb. It wasn’t the first time that she’d opened up about losing her child—but Maria often kept her emotions hidden, tucked away along with her son’s memory. For the last several years, she’d dedicated most of her time and energy to Jackson and to its people, pouring herself completely into her role as the community’s leader. But now that Luke had placed her on strict bed rest for the rest of her pregnancy, Maria had no choice but to step down, temporarily handing the role over to Tommy, along with a small council she’d handpicked herself.

It hadn’t been easy for her, after all, there was only so much she could do to keep herself preoccupied while being confined to the four walls of her home. She found her mind wandering to Kevin a lot more often than not lately, and the pregnancy hormones did absolutely nothing to help in the matter.

“Maria?” you say her name softly. “You okay?”

She slowly exhales the breath she’d been holding.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she finally replies, sniffing again.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.” She pauses momentarily. “I just—there’s a part of me that still has trouble believing I’m going to be a mother again. It’s been so long, you know? What if I’ve forgotten how to be a good mom?”

Dropping your hand from Maria’s face, you offer it out for her to hold. She accepts it and you give her hand a gentle squeeze as you vouch, “This baby, they couldn’t be any luckier than to have a mother like you, Maria.”

“And a fuckin’ hell of a dad like me,” a voice teases from the doorway.

Tommy, who had been down at the commune’s market picking up some potatoes for dinner, saunters into the living room with a brown paper bag in his arm. Setting the bag down onto a nearby table, he then makes his way over to his wife. Noticing that she’d been crying, he leans over and presses his lips against her forehead, softly murmuring, “You doin’ alright, sweetheart?”

“I’m alright,” she assures him with a nod. “I’m just extra sensitive and hormonal right now. The usual.”

He hums. “Uh, yeah, I kinda figured that out when you bawled your way through Old Yeller at the movies the other night.”

She pouts. “Pregnant or not, that movie’s a tear jerker, okay? Only people made of stone don’t cry when the dog dies.”

“She’s got a point, Tommy,” you agree with a shrug. “I cried too, and I’m not pregnant.”

Drawing himself back up to his full height, Tommy glances at the booties resting on Maria’s belly. He picks them up and holds them both in the palm of his hand. 

“Well, ain’t these just the teeniest things I ever did see,” he remarks with a soft chuckle. “Who made these?”

Maria jerks her chin towards you. “She did.”

Tommy’s eyes meet yours and it feels like a punch to the fucking gut—they remind you of his brother. “Almost feels like a crime, havin’ you make clothes for our kid for free,” he states, shaking his head as he hands them back to Maria. “You’re makin’ the baby’s entire wardrobe at this point, little lady.”

Sheepishly, you wave a dismissive hand at him. “I made one sweater and a couple pairs of mittens for them. I wouldn’t exactly call that a wardrobe, Tommy.”

“It’s a hell of a lot more stuff than we had before. I gotta be honest, it just don’t feel right acceptin’ all these things from you without payin’ somehow. I’d really like to at least trade you somethin’ for them.”

Shaking your head, you politely decline the offer.

“I appreciate it, but I really don’t need anything.”

“What ‘bout Luke?”

“He doesn’t either.”

“But—”

“Honey, don’t waste your breath,” Maria chimes in with a sigh. “I’ve been trying to get her to accept a trade all week long and she simply won’t budge.”

Tommy purses his lips together, slowly rubbing his chin in thought. “Okay, I’ve got an idea,” he proposes after a minute. “How ‘bout you and Luke both come on over and join us for dinner later tonight? That ain’t too bad of a deal, right?”

You silently mull over the offer for a second.

“If I accept the invitation, then will you two knock it off with all this damn trade nonsense?” When he eagerly nods, you sigh. “Alright then, I accept. We’ll come over for dinner tonight. Granted he doesn’t come home late from the clinic again.”

“Perfect,” he grins. “See, that wasn’t so hard now, was it?”

Knowing he only means well, you decide to be a good sport about it and smile at him. “No, Tommy. I suppose it wasn’t.”

“Great!” Maria beams. “We haven’t had a chance to get together for dinner in months. Lately when I see Luke, it’s as his patient,” she muses. “I have to admit, it’ll be so nice to have a conversation with him that doesn’t revolve around my uterus for once.”

Tommy jokingly makes a face. “Yeah. Tell the doc to leave all that medical stuff at the door before he comes over. Last thing I wanna hear ‘bout while I’m chowin’ down on some big, juicy bison steaks is what fuckin’ size my wife’s uterus is—”

“Tommy! That’s not funny!” Rolling her eyes at her husband, Maria turns to you to apologize but she stops short when she notices a sudden, not to mention drastic, change in your complexion. Frowning, she reaches up and touches your cheek. “Hey, you don’t look so good. Are you feeling alright?”

You can taste the bile at the back of your throat.

“I—I’m sorry, what did you just say was for dinner?”

Tommy shoots you a strange look. “Uh, steaks?”

The mere mention of the word sends a violent wave of sickness crashing over you—slapping your hand tightly over your mouth, you scramble to jump off the couch and make a beeline for their downstairs bathroom right across the hallway. You’d made it just in time to fall to your knees in front of the toilet. Clutching the sides of the porcelain bowl, you gag loudly, and the sickening sound of your retching bounces off the walls.

As your stomach heaves, you feel one hand gather your hair to hold it back and out of your face, while the other rubs soothing circles into your back.

“Let it all out,” Maria encourages you. “It’s alright, just let it all out. There you go, get everything out.”

Tommy pokes his head into the bathroom.

“She okay?”

“Tommy! Get out of here!” Maria scolds him over her shoulder. “She doesn’t need an audience!”

He holds up his hands. “Alright, alright! Sheesh, I was just makin’ sure she’s okay, you ain’t gotta bite my head off!” He huffs at her. “I’ll be in the kitchen if you two need me.” Without another word, he spins around on the heel of his boot and disappears.

Once you’re certain there’s nothing left, your trembling hand reaches for the handle on the tank and pulls it down, flushing the toilet. You then sit back, slumping against the wall. “Jesus. I am so fucking sorry. I have no idea what the hell came over me,” you groan, the embarrassment evident in your tone as you wipe at your mouth with the sleeve of your flannel shirt.

Maria peers at you with a suspicious glint in her eyes.

“You know,” she says, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear, “About five months ago, I went through a phase where I couldn’t stand the thought of meat—any kind, but red meat had to be the worst. I just could not stomach it.” Her hand falls away from your face and she rises to her feet with a labored grunt. Leaning back against the sink, she continues to say, “Poor Tommy, he couldn’t even mention it to me or I’d throw up on his boots. Not long after that, I found out I was pregnant.”

You stare at her, your lips parting slightly.  “Maria, you can’t seriously be insinuating—I am not pregnant. No, it’s not possible, you know that I can’t have kids,” you sputter out, furiously shaking your head. “There’s just no fucking way that I’m—”

Maria holds up her hands to stop you. “When was the date of your last menstrual cycle?”

“It was recent.”

“How recent?”

Silently, you start counting the weeks and you freeze the moment you realize you’d missed September completely, and October’s cycle had been due two weeks ago. You’ve been so lost in your own grief, so busy trying to keep yourself from falling apart, that you hadn’t even realized you haven’t bled since—

“August,” you breathe out in a terrified whisper.

The last time you had your period was in August.

August. 

Before you had slept with Joel Miller for the first time. 

Maria whirls around and starts digging in the medicine cabinet above the sink, and then in the one below it. After a minute of rummaging, she turns back around and extends a hand out to you, offering to help you to your feet. She lets out another grunt as she helps you stand. “I had one left,” she states, holding out her other hand to you, an individually wrapped pregnancy test in her palm. “At this point, I don’t think you even need to take a test, but it doesn’t hurt to have solid proof.”

You can hardly choke out her name. “Maria—”

She hastily shoves the test into your hands. “Just take it. I’ll be back in to check on you, okay?”

Not giving you the chance to protest, she steps out of the bathroom, closing the door behind her.

You look down at the test in your palm and then up into the mirror, meeting your own wide eyes in the reflection.

It can’t be possible. It just can’t be possible.

You can’t have children. 

With shaking hands, you unzip your blue jeans and then tear open the package. Your mind is in such a haze, you have to read the instructions three or four times before the information finally sticks. After taking the test, you lay it down top of the counter with the results window facing down. You pull your panties and jeans back into place and wash your hands using the bar of soap next to the sink—all the while, the sheer panic has started to settle in, the fear that accompanies it seeping deep into your bones.

Swallowing harshly, you realize it’d been well over the three minutes the package had instructed you to wait for the results.

“It’s negative. It’s negative,” you affirm quietly over and over underneath your breath as you pick it up and flip it in your hand. “It’s negative. It’s negative—”

You stop, and for a second, your heart feels like it stops too.

Horrified, you blink furiously, as if somehow you’ve misread the results—but there is no fucking mistaking those two solid little pink lines.

Your blood runs cold in your veins.

You’re pregnant. 

Luke hasn’t touched you in months.

And you’re pregnant. 

Luke hasn’t touched you in months. 

And you are fucking pregnant. 

Maria knocks lightly on the bathroom door.

“It’s been a few minutes now—can I come in?”

She waits, only to be met with complete silence.

“Hey, hon.” She knocks again. “Is everything okay?”

Again, there’s no response from the other side of the door.

“Christ, Maria.” Tommy suddenly appears beside her with a glass of water in his hand. Flashing his wife a teasing look, he quips, “Can’t you let the poor girl do her goddamn business in peace? What’s wrong with you, woman?”

Maria frowns. “I think something’s wrong.”

His playful grin falters. “What do you mean?”

“She’s not answering me.”

Tommy chortles, quirking an eyebrow at her. “Maybe ‘cause she’s actually in there doin’ her business?”

Hesitantly, Maria bites down on her bottom lip.

“What? What is it?”

“I gave her a pregnancy test to take.”

Tommy’s eyes widen. “You fuckin’ with me?”

Maria glares at him. “No! I’m not fucking with you, I’m being serious! I gave her the test and then told her I would check back in with her after she took it, but now she’s not answering me and I’m kind of worried.”

“The door locked?”

She shakes her head. “No, I don’t think it is. Should we just open the door and see if she’s okay? I don’t want to barge in there but—”

Tommy hands Maria the glass of water. “Hey,” he calls lightly as he raps on the door with his fist. “Everythin’ alright in there?” He waits for a minute, but when you don’t reply, he grasps the brass doorknob in his hand and says sternly, “Now you listen here, little lady. You had best answer me right now, or we’re gonna have to come in, you understand me?”

Silence. 

“Last chance, talk or I’m gonna open this door.”

Nothing. 

“Alright then, suit yourself. Hope you’re decent.”

Tommy turns the knob, cracking the door open—when he doesn’t see you, he tries pushing it open further. The door stops halfway, and he peers around it only to find you sitting on the floor with your back against the wall, preventing the door from going any further. “Shit, she’s sittin’ right behind the goddamn—fuckin’ hold on, Maria! If I try shovin’ it open, I could hurt her!” Being careful so as not to hit you or step on you by accident, he squeezes his way into the bathroom. He crouches down beside you, cupping your cheek in the palm of his hand. “Hey, what is it? What’s the matter?”

Your eyes flicker up to meet his.

You can’t speak. You can’t move.

All that you can do is stare at him. Petrified. 

“C’mon, little lady,” he coaxes, softly. “Talk to me.”

“Tommy! Let me in!” Maria demands, impatiently. “Can you move her? I can’t squeeze through, my belly is way too big.”

Tommy slides one arm around your shoulders and the other arm under your knees. “I’m just gonna move you out the way so Maria can come in, alright? C’mere.” He gingerly slides you across the tile and cradles the side of your body against his chest. He then calls out to his wife, “There, that should be enough room!”

Maria pushes the door open and rushes inside. “Is she okay?” Gripping Tommy’s shoulder, she slowly lowers herself to kneel beside you. Her eyes go straight to the test clutched in your hand. She just about has to pry your ice cold fingers off the white stick one by one. “It’s positive,” she gasps. “Your results are positive—you’re going to have a baby!”

Tommy lets out a loud, gleeful laugh. “Did’ya hear that, little lady? You’re gonna have a baby! You’re gonna be a mama! Ain’t that great news?”

Finally, you snap out of your trance. Your eyes anxiously bounce between Tommy and Maria, heart pounding as they eagerly wait for your reaction with smiles of pure excitement on their faces.

“I—” Unable to utter another word, you burst into tears.

And they’re certainly not tears of happiness.

No, the sobs coming from deep within you aren’t full of joy at the news that you’re going to be a mother.

They’re pained. Cries full of sorrow, anguish, and fear. As the confusion flashes across their faces, all you can do is weep harder, and louder.

“Wait a minute, I thought you would be happy.” Maria’s hands reach for yours and she holds them tightly as she tries to understand what it is that is causing such a negative reaction. “You and Luke tried for a really long time to have another baby. Why are you so upset?” She keeps her voice calm, kind. Warm. It wasn’t that she was judging you—Maria wants to help you, however there’s no way for her to help you if she doesn’t know what’s causing your grief in the first place. “What’s the matter, honey? Are you afraid after what happened last time?”

“I can’t be pregnant,” you rasp out. “I can’t—”

“Hey now, it’s alright. C’mere.” Tommy shifts and he moves to sit down beside you against the wall. His arm drapes around your trembling shoulders in an effort to comfort you. As your entire body shudders with sobs, he pulls you close against his side, rubbing your arm with his hand. Once they’ve subsided and little hiccups are all that are left, he finally speaks again. “You can talk to us, little lady. ‘Bout anythin’ that’s on your mind. We care ‘bout you a whole lot. Y’know that, don’t you?”

“Tommy’s right,” Maria nods. “You’re like family to us. You can come to us about anything. We’ll do whatever we can to help you, okay?”

You shake your head tightly. “I can’t. I just can’t.”

She lets out a small sigh and glances at her husband with a look of defeat. “I think you should run down to the clinic and get Luke. He’ll know what to do to calm her down.”

“No!” you shout loudly, startling them both. “I—Luke can’t find out that I’m pregnant. He just can’t know, or else—” A fresh batch of tears spring forward as you clamp a hand over your mouth, muffling another wail.

“Or else what?” Maria asks, raising an eyebrow.

Or else he was going to fucking kill you.

Tommy grabs your wrist, gently tugging it away from your face. “Or else what?” He echoes his wife. “What is goin’ on? Is there somethin’ we should know ‘bout?”

Yet another sob escapes you and his fingers curl tighter around your wrist, firmly, but he’s careful not to be too harsh.

“We’re gonna need you to tell us what’s goin’ on.”

There’s no way around it. Around any of it.

You have to tell them. 

Swallowing harshly, you admit, “There is.”

The couple waits expectantly.

“The baby isn’t Luke’s.” You mumble it so quietly and incoherently that neither of them hear it despite being in such close proximity.

Maria furrows an eyebrow. “What did you say?”

“The baby isn’t Luke’s!” You cry out, yanking your wrist out of Tommy’s hand. “This baby isn’t his and that’s why he can’t fucking know!”

And just like that, the truth comes tumbling out.

Luke’s violence towards you.

Your romantic affair with Joel.

Ellie discovering the abuse and telling him about it.

Your stubborn refusal to let either of them do anything to help you.

You spare no details of everything that had taken place over the last several months, and by the time you had finally finished, both Tommy and Maria were rendered completely speechless.

“Can one of you say something? Please? Anything at all?” Your voice is small, feeble.

After a minute, Tommy pulls his arm from around your shoulders and stands up. He helps Maria up to her feet before he extends his hand to you. “Alright, first thing’s first. Let me get you up off this floor, little lady.”

His voice is soft, and so is his gaze.

“Tommy how can you—after everything that I’ve done? Your brother—”

“Please. Just let me help you off the floor and then we can talk ‘bout it. Okay?”

You accept his hand, allowing him to pull you to your feet. Much to your surprise, he doesn’t let it go as he leads you out of the bathroom and back into the living room where he sits you down on the couch. Maria, who hasn’t said a single word, takes a seat beside you.

Tommy kneels down in front of you, placing a warm and gentle hand on your leg. He almost looks a little bit guilty, as if he should have known what was being done to you behind closed doors. “Look, m’gonna ask you a question and I need an honest answer. How long has he been doin’ this to you?”

Anxiously, you start wringing your hands in your lap.

“Tommy, I can’t. Please, don’t—”

“Tell me,” he encourages you, softly. “When did it first start?”

Your throat bobs. “Two months after my dad died,” you confess, another tear rolling down the side of your face.

Maria stiffens. “Luke has been putting his hands on you for two years?”

“Yes.”

You can hear the shame in your own voice—shame for letting the abuse go on as long as it has, for everything to come to light like this.

“Fuckin’ hell.” Tommy sighs heavily and hangs his head. “Joel told me. He fuckin’ told me.”

You wipe at your swollen eyes with your forearm.

“What are you talking about, Tommy?”

He sighs again.

“Months ago, the day after the big summer party,” he begins to explain. “We were at the bar. Joel was askin’ me ‘bout you and Luke. Said somethin’ just wasn’t right when he saw you two together for the first time. He tried to tell me somethin’ was wrong and I—I didn’t fuckin’ believe him. Told him he was seein’ what he wanted to see ‘cause I knew he liked you. I fuckin’ told him that you and Luke were happy. He tried to tell me and I didn’t fuckin’ listen to him.”

“Tommy, please don’t blame yourself for this,” you beg him. “I’m the one who chose to hide it. This is my own fault, okay? This is all on me, not on you.”

Maria furiously shakes her head. “It’s not your fault and it sure as hell isn’t on you. You’re the victim here.”

Victim. 

The word makes you cringe.

“But it is my fault, Maria. I hid it from you guys for two fucking years.”

“But why? Why did you hide it? Why didn’t you come to us?” Tommy’s voice is strained. “You should’ve told us what he was doin’ to you. We—I could’a done somethin’ to stop it. I could’a helped you.”

“Because. I didn’t want to risk getting him thrown out of the community. Jackson needs him, Tommy.”

“Like hell we do,” Tommy rises to his feet. “Ain’t no way that we’re gonna tolerate that fuckin’ shit here.” With his hands curled tightly into fists, he spins around and starts heading towards the front door.

You stand and chase after him, catching him just as he opens it. “Where the hell are you going?”

“To confront that pathetic son of a bitch—”

“Tommy, please! Don’t do that.” Grabbing his arm, you shoot him a pleading look. “Please, think about this for a minute.”

“Ain’t nothin’ for me to fuckin’ think ‘bout, alright?”

“Yes, there fucking is! This town needs a doctor. They need Luke—Maria needs Luke.” You glance over at her just as she appears in the hallway with both hands on her belly. “God forbid that something goes wrong—she goes into preterm labor or she has a complication when she gives birth. Did you think about that?”

“We’ve got two nurses,” he reminds you.

“Two nurses who only know basic neonatal care. That’s it. If something serious happens, Maria’s going to need Luke. And the baby’s going to need him too.”

You knew you’d gotten your point across when Tommy turns to his wife, helplessly.

“Fuck,” he curses, slamming the door shut. “She’s right. I fuckin’ hate to say it, but she’s right ‘bout that.”

“I am right,” you state and his attention flits back to you. “Luke has to stay and you both know that as well as I do. For the good of Jackson, he has to stay.”

Conflicted, Tommy growls out in frustration. “So what, I’m just s’pposed to give him a fuckin’ pass? How the hell can you expect us—how can you expect me to let that motherfucker walk around this place knowin’ what he’s been doin’ to you over these last two years?”

Your fingers dig into his arm, a fresh batch of hot tears stinging your eyes. “Tommy, if this community suffers without Luke because of me, it will destroy me. The guilt will fucking destroy me.”

Finally, Maria decides to step in. “Listen, I know that you’re trying to look out for the people of this town and I get that. But you’re risking your own life by asking us to let him stay here.” She walks over to you, taking your hands in hers. “Honey, I know men like Luke because I used to prosecute men like Luke. I would take them to court on murder charges.” Her eyes find yours. “I don’t want to scare you, but if that is the only way for me to get through to you, then I will sit you down and I will tell you all about what happened to the women who swore to me their abusive husbands would never, ever take it that far.”

You swallow harshly and a chill runs up your spine.

“I’ll leave,” you squeak. “I’ll leave him.”

“And what if he doesn’t let you walk away?”

Tommy crosses his arms over his chest. “He will if I’m the one who fuckin’ talks to him. I ain’t gonna give him the choice. He has to let her go.”

Panicked, you furiously shake your head. “No! I can do this on my own, Tommy. I can handle him alone. I don’t need you to do it for me. I can fix this without your help, okay?”

“You can’t,” he says, firmly. “You just can’t.”

“Yes, I can—”

He cuts you off with a pleading look.

“You need to let us help you. Please. Let us help you.”

You had agreed to it, but only on one condition.

“I need a couple of days,” you’d told them.

Tommy frowned. “No. It’s happenin’ tonight. We’re gonna talk to Luke, you’re gonna pack up a couple bags, and we’re gettin’ you away from him. You can stay here with us for a while. You’ll be safe.” Taking notice of the shocked look on your face, he said, “I know you ain’t crazy enough to think I’m gonna let you go home to him tonight. Ain’t no way in hell.”

“I—this is all happening so fast. It’s too overwhelming, Tommy. I just need a day or two to process everything before I take that leap.”

“And give Luke the fuckin’ chance to hurt you again?”

“He hasn’t laid a finger on me in weeks now.”

Tommy scoffed, “Well, someone give him a fuckin’ medal!” He exclaimed, throwing his hands up. “He hasn’t hit his wife in weeks! What a fuckin’ guy!”

You recoiled, his sarcasm stinging like he’d poured salt straight into the open wound.

“Tommy,” Maria glared at him. “Not helping.”

He immediately shot you an apologetic look.

“Shit. Sorry, little lady. I’m just real worried ‘bout you. I don’t like the idea of you goin’ home to him tonight, and much less knowin’ that you’re pregnant, y’know?” His eyes had fallen to your stomach with sudden curiosity. “When, uh—when do you plan on tellin’ Joel ‘bout the baby, anyway?”

Heat flooded your face and neck.

“I—I’m not really sure about that yet.”

“Jesus Christ, Tommy! She just told you that she’s feeling overwhelmed,” Maria chastised him. “Let’s take it one step at a time, okay? Our first priority is going to be to get her out of that house. She has already agreed to letting us help her, so I think there’s a bit of room for compromise. Here’s the deal.” She put a hand on your shoulder. “As much as I don’t want to let you go home to him tonight either, I’m going to allow it so you can take a breather. Tomorrow in the afternoon when you get home from work duty, I’ll come over and help you pack some clothes and necessities, and we can bring them over here to our place.”

Nervously chewing your lower lip, you asked, “And then what?”

“I’ll go confront Luke,” Tommy stated. “Best if you ain’t there when I talk to him, little lady.” He turned to Maria, placing a hand on her belly. “I don’t want you to be there either, sweetheart. I ain’t takin’ any chances and puttin’ you and the baby under stress so I’m gonna have to handle him alone, alright?”

Maria nodded, shifting her attention back to you. “So? Do we have a deal?”

Meekly, you had nodded in agreement. “Yes. We have a deal.”

The rest of that evening passes by in a blur.

Autopilot had taken over the moment that Tommy took you across the road and dropped you off at your door.

“Any problems, you come get me,” he’d said. “You come and get me. No matter what time it is, alright? You fuckin’ come and get me if he tries anythin’.”

All that you could do was give him a weak nod and then you’d turned around, slipping into the house.

You don’t remember cooking dinner.

You don’t remember looking at the clock, noticing it was well past dinnertime and realizing that Luke would be home late as usual. You don’t remember fixing him a plate and leaving it on top of the stove for him to find when he came home, storing all of the leftovers, and washing the small pile of dirty dishes in the sink.

You don’t remember heading upstairs afterwards, you don't remember taking a long shower, brushing your teeth or changing into your pajamas.

It wasn’t until hours later, when the bedroom door opened and Luke walked in, that autopilot finally disengaged.

“You’re still up?”

You’d been sitting on the foot of the bed anxiously picking at your fingernails without even realizing it until he glared at you—he’d always hated the habit and spent months smacking it out of you.

Ceasing from messing with your hands, you drop them into your lap.

“You’re home really late again,” you say, quietly.

“I made a last minute house call. John’s little boy came down with a hell of a fever tonight.” Luke sets down his satchel bag and shrugs out of his jacket—as he does so, you catch sight of the tiny, reddish purple bruise on his neck, right below his ear. Draping his jacket over a nearby chair, he arches his brow as if he were silently challenging you to confront him, as if he’s daring you to ask him who had given him a love bite.

You don’t care. You don’t care about what or who Luke has been doing over the last several nights when he’s been coming home so much later than usual.

Kicking off his black boots, he saunters over to you, his mouth stretching into a cruel, satisfied little smirk.

Oh, he knows damn well you’ve already figured it out.

He wanted you to figure it out.

“Spend the afternoon at Tommy and Maria’s again?”

“Yes. I did.”

“I see.” He hums. “She was telling me during her exam this morning at the clinic that you’ve been helping her knit some clothes for the baby. Is that so?”

“I have,” you murmur, looking down to avert his curious gaze as he stops in front of you. “We’ve been making blankets for the baby, too.”

Luke cups your chin, forcing your eyes back up to meet his. “Well, isn’t that sweet of you.” He roughly curls his fingers around your jaw, his thumb brushing along your quivering lower lip. He hums again. “Something about you seems different, darling. Been looking a lot prettier to me these days.” He lets go of your jaw and brushes your hair behind your shoulder, his finger skimming the strap of your cotton pajama top. “How long has it been now, sweetheart?”

Your throat goes dry, your lips parting in shock as Luke pulls it down your arm, his palm grazing over your skin.

No. This can’t be happening. He wants to—?

Without waiting for a response, Luke grabs one of your hands and places it over his belt buckle.

Noticing your expression, he laughs again. “Why do you look so surprised?”

“You—you haven’t wanted to touch me in months.”

Luke shrugs. “Well, what can I say? I’m suddenly in the mood for my pretty little wife’s cunt.” His grin stretches from ear to ear. “Who knows, maybe we’ll get lucky this time. Maybe we’ll have a little one of our own running around this place. I’m feeling rather optimistic tonight.”

You’re going to be fucking sick all over him.

No, you can’t let him do this to you.

You can’t let him touch you.

He pushes your hand lower, right over his bulge.

“No!” Tearing your hand away, you jump up and roughly shove him away from you. “Don’t you fucking touch me!”

He stumbles backwards, but he catches himself before he can fall.

Your chest heaves a d he stares at you, bewildered at what you had just done. “I’m so sorry that whoever you fucked before you came home wasn’t enough for you, but you are not fucking touching me,” you spit at him. “In fact, you’re never touching me ever again because I’m leaving. I’m done, Luke.”

“Excuse me?”

“You fucking heard me.” Your voice trembles—you can’t be sure if it trembles out of anger or out of the sheer terror you feel. Maybe it’s a bit of both. “It’s over, Luke. This marriage is fucking over. I’m not putting up with what you’ve been doing to me for the past two years. I’m not going to tolerate it. Not anymore. I’m not going to allow you to keep on hurting me.” Lifting your hand, you slide your wedding band off of your finger and toss it at him. It clinks as it lands on the hardwood floor near his feet. “I’ll be out of the house by tomorrow evening.”

“Let me take a guess.” He speaks calmly, much too calmly, as he starts towards you. The time bomb has started ticking. “You’re going to move in with Joel Miller and his feral little rat of a kid?”

Hands curling into fists at your sides, you seethe, “Where I move is none of your fucking business, Luke.” He steps closer and your courage starts to falter. You can feel yourself wanting to back down—the thought of your unborn child is the only thing that keeps you from completely losing your nerve. “Here is the deal. You’re going to let me leave and you’re going to stay the fuck away from me. If you do that, then I won’t tell anyone anything about the things you’ve done to me. It’ll be like none of it ever happened. We both move on with our lives. Separately. Got it?”

He draws closer and closer. Much too close.

“Oh, you silly, silly girl,” he tsks. “Do you really think you can call the shots? Do you really fucking think you have the upper hand here? That you can make the decision to end this marriage, just like that?”

Closer, until his chest brushes against yours.

“Luke, I’m giving you a fucking chance here,” you say, backing away until the back of your knees hit the edge of the mattress. With nowhere else to go, to run, you fall backwards onto the bed, scrambling up towards the headboard. Your heart is pounding, too hard and too fast—would it give out before he even has the chance to get his hands on you? “Luke, please, just let me go.” Clasping your hands together in a plea, you beg him, your back pressed against the headboard, “If at any point in our relationship you loved me—if at any point in our marriage you actually cared about me, you will fucking let me go in peace. Please. Just let me go. Let me fucking go.”

Luke stands at the foot of the bed, his face blank.

Emotionless. There isn’t a single ounce of compassion in his eyes. No mercy. 

“Please,” you whisper once more. Curling both of your arms around yourself, you subconsciously protect your belly.

Luke reaches down and unbuckles his belt.

You watch, your stomach churning, as he slowly slides the black leather from the loops of his jeans.

“I’m not letting you go anywhere.”

“I mean it, Joel. Stay away from Luke.” 

Joel clutches his stallion’s reins tightly in his hands as the pair fall into a slow, easy trot behind Tommy and his horse, Ranger.

He follows his brother as he leads the way through the quiet, tranquil plains of Wyoming. Instead of scanning their surroundings for signs of potential danger, all Joel can do is think about you—that was all he could ever do these days, was fucking think about you and about that fucking night.

The memory plays over and over in his mind on a loop, torturing him day in and day out. It never fucking stops. Repeat, repeat, repeat.

“I mean it, Joel. Stay away from Luke. And maybe it’s for the best if you just fucking stay away from me too.”

That’s precisely what he had done. He had stayed away from Luke. And against his better judgement, he had stayed away from you, too.

“How’s it feel to be back out here?” Tommy asks over his shoulder. He tugs at the reins and gives Ranger the cue to slow his trot, giving Joel and his horse, Bandit, the chance to catch up and ride at their side. “Bet you couldn’t be fuckin’ happier to be off house arrest, huh?” he adds, a light joking edge to his tone.

After about four and a half weeks, Joel had made a full recovery, and he was cleared to return to patrol duties. Wanting to ease him back into the swing of things after so much time off, Tommy decided to pair up with Joel as his partner for that morning’s watch. The two took a route just a few miles west of the community, one that was scoured every couple of days since it was so close to Jackson’s main gate.

“S’alright,” he mutters with a shrug that causes him to wince. His shoulder’s still a little sore. Ellie had assisted with his physical therapy, badgering him every single night to do the exercises in some book she’d found in the town’s library with Dina’s help. He had full range of motion again, and that’s all Tommy had needed in order to allow him to return to patrol.

“You feelin’ alright?” His brother notices the slight look of discomfort on his face. “Shoulder’s good?”

“Any particular reason you’re bein’ so annoyin’ today?”

Tommy feigns offense. “You got fuckin’ shot, Joel. Just makin’ sure you’re okay. Jesus.”

Joel lets out a small huff through his nose. “M’fine,” he assures him. “Shoulder’s good. Still hurts a little and the cold weather ain’t doin’ a whole lot to help, but ain’t nothin’ I can’t handle.” Sitting back in his saddle, he lets his thighs close around Bandit. “Whoa,” he utters to the animal, his fingers squeezing the reins as he signals for Bandit to come to a halt.

“What’s the matter? Why are we stoppin’?”

“This route’s clear, Tommy. We should turn around and go find the rest of the group. Check and see if the other routes are clear too.” Joel clicks his tongue, prompting Bandit to move again. He steers the stallion and starts turning around to lead them back east, but then stops once more. He glimpses over at Tommy, who hasn’t moved a muscle. Noticing the odd, pensive expression on his face, Joel frowns, asking, “What’s wrong?”

Tommy chews the inside of his cheek, his apprehension written all over his face. “Uh Joel, there’s something we need to talk ‘bout and maybe it’s best if we do it while we’re out here, just the two of us.”

Confused, Joel’s eyebrows pull together. “What is it?”

His brother hesitates. His lips purse together, a sudden look of regret flashing across his features.

“Tommy?” Joel prompts. “The hell’s goin’ on?”

Exhaling a heavy sigh, he states, “You were right.”

“Right ‘bout what?”

“‘Bout Luke.”

Joel freezes in the seat of his saddle.

“You were fuckin’ right ‘bout him mistreatin’ her.”

His grip around the reins tightens, skin stretching thin over his knuckles so tight they’d gone white.

“She was over at mine yesterday afternoon. Ended up tellin’ me and Maria everthin’ ‘bout Luke and what he’s done.” Rolling his lower lip between his teeth, Tommy pauses for a second before repeating, “You were right. You were fuckin’ right ‘bout that bastard from the start and I’m real sorry that I didn’t fuckin’ believe you, Joel.”

Joel’s mind begins to race.

What had prompted you to finally tell Tommy and Maria about the abuse? Did something happen to you that he didn’t know about?

Ellie had been pretty good about keeping him posted. He would ask her about you the very minute she’d walk through the front door after her shift at the stables and she would provide him a full report.

“She’s fine. She ain’t hurt,” Tommy reassures him, as if he’d read his mind. “We’re plannin’ on movin’ her outta the house later on tonight.”

“What?” Finally, Joel speaks, his voice rigid.

Tommy holds his hands up in defense. “Now, hold on. I need you to give me a minute and let me explain—”

“She told you Luke’s been abusin’ her and you just let her go back to him? Are you fuckin’ kiddin’ me? Why didn’t you and Maria fuckin’ stop her?”

“Why didn’t you fuckin’ stop her the night you saw the bruise on her?” He shoots back at him. 

Joel stares at him, his lips parting slightly.

How did he fucking know about that? 

“She told us the truth ‘bout the affair too, Joel.”

“She did?”

“She did,” Tommy confirms with a nod. “I had a hunch, y’know. The day of the ambush, I thought I saw panic in her eyes when I told Ellie you’d been shot. Then I saw it again when she saw you there sittin’ on that table with a bullet in your shoulder, but I brushed it off. Thought she was just real worried ‘bout the kid seein’ as those two are thick as fuckin’ thieves, y’know?” Despite the serious nature of the conversation, he can’t help but let out a chuckle when he thinks of you and Ellie. “But now I know she was scared of losin’ you. That girl loves you, Joel. I know you love her too. I’m willin’ to bet it’s the reason you let her walk away that night. Why you kept her secret.”

“Jesus.” Joel exhales a shaky breath. “Y’must think I’m a real fuckin’ coward for knowin’ what he’s been doin’ to her and not doin’ a goddamn thing ‘bout it, huh?”

Tommy shakes his head.

“It’s a complicated situation, brother. She only did what she did for the good of the community. She’s still trying to do what’s best for Jackson, believe it or not. She, uh, she wants us to let Luke stay.”

“She wants you to let him stay?”

“Girl’s got too big of a heart. Doesn’t want the town to be without a doctor.”

“Ain’t no goddamn way you’d let him stay! After all the fuckin’ shit he’s done to her?” When his brother doesn’t respond, Joel narrows his eyes at him. “Jesus Christ. You can’t fuckin’ tell me you’re actually considerin’ it? Are you fuckin’ serious, Tommy? You and Maria would let that son of a bitch stay in Jackson? Knowin’ he’s spent two fuckin’ years puttin’ his hands on his wife?”

“Look here, alright? I don’t like the idea as much as you don’t, and neither does Maria,” he says. “But this ain’t exactly black and white, Joel. I really fuckin’ wish it was. But the hard truth is that Jackson does need a doctor, and unless one magically falls out of the fuckin’ sky, we ain’t got much of a choice here. My wife and child, they might need him, y’know? Maria’s considered a high risk ‘cause of her age. If somethin’ happens and there’s complications when she’s in labor, she and the baby are gonna need him. Our nurses, they ain’t really trained to handle things like that, y’know?”

Joel’s lips press together into a tight, thin line.

Of course it’s black and white to him—because he loves you. You’re his fucking priority. There’s no gray area for him. None.

But Tommy? His priority is Maria and their unborn child.

Joel can’t fault him for that, and he certainly isn’t going to try. But what about you?

“Listen, Joel. I know this is real fuckin’ hard, believe me I do. I care about that girl a lot, a whole fuckin’ lot. I saw her as family long before I knew ‘bout your relationship with her and before I knew she was—”

He stops abruptly, red splotching his cheeks.

Joel still doesn’t know he is going to be a father. Again.

“Before you knew she was what, Tommy?”

“Tommy!” A woman’s voice shouts. “Joel! Over here!”

The two brothers glance over their shoulders and see the rest of their morning patrol group heading towards them.

Tommy bites back a sigh of utter relief. That had been too fucking close.

He turns to Joel, lowering his voice. “Joel, I need you to listen, and listen to me real good. We’ve gotta take this one step at a time. First thing’s first, me and Maria are gonna get her outta that house. She can stay with us at our place for a while. She’ll be safe with us. That much I can promise you.”

“Then what?”

“Don’t know yet. We get her out first and then we figure things out from there. In the meantime, I’m gonna need you to stay calm, Joel. Please. Don’t go off and do somethin’ stupid, alright?”

That had been a lot easier said than done.

Joel needed to talk to you.

He needed to fucking see you. 

But his brother had been adamant.

“Don’t fuckin’ get involved, Joel. Not ‘til we get her out. I don’t want things to fuckin’ explode in our faces, alright? Let me handle this.” 

Letting out a heavy sigh, Joel leans back into the couch and looks down at the guitar in his lap—he’d just spent the last hour carefully polishing it in an effort to keep himself occupied. He thought back to that night you’d come over to gift it to him, how he had kissed you for the first time mere hours before you showed up on his doorstep with your father’s Gibson.

As he gives the guitar a gentle test strum, he recalls the request you made for him to sing you a song and a dull ache settles in his chest, right over his heart. He’ll sing you every song you want to hear, if given the chance.

Part of him is optimistic that he would get the chance.

You were meant to be his. He was meant to be yours.

He just fucking knows it.

Joel’s train of thought is shattered by the sound of the front door opening, and then loudly slamming shut.

“Ellie?” He calls out.

Her voice comes from the hallway. “Yeah?”

“C’mere, kiddo.”

Ellie grumbles incoherently as she walks into the living room, hair disheveled, clothes filthy, and her sneakers caked with muck from the stables.

Joel frowns at her. “What the hell happened to you?”

“Today was just really fucking shitty and while that was a great pun, for once, it was not fucking intended,” she sighs, crossing her arms over her chest. “If you called me in here to ask me about her, I’d save my breath. She stayed home today. She’s sick.”

Joel’s stomach instantly drops. “She’s sick?”

“Yeah. With like a really bad cold or something.”

Putting down the guitar, he questions, “And who told you that?”

“Dina,” Ellie replies, looking puzzled. “She said Luke told her—” She stops abruptly as he jumps to his feet and immediately shoves past her, heading towards the front door. She spins around on her heel, following him. As he flies down the porch and starts down the road towards your house, she is forced to jog along beside him just to keep up with his stride. “What, what? What is it? Fucking answer me, Joel, what is it?”

“She ain’t fuckin’ sick, Ellie.”

“What do you mean she’s not—oh fuck. You don’t think she’s hiding out at home because—?” Ellie’s heartbeat stutters when the realization sinks in. “Luke.”

When the pair arrive at your place, they find a very, very distraught Maria Miller standing on the front porch, her hands wrapped around the doorknob. “Hon, I need you to let me in!” She turns and pulls the knob, desperately. “Please! Open the door for me!”

Your tearful voice comes from the other side. “Go away, Maria!”

The sound of Joel’s boots prompt Maria to turn around. “Joel,” she breathes out his name in relief. “I can’t get her to open the door. Tommy went to see if we have a spare key for the unit. He hasn’t come back and I don’t know what to do.”

“Break a fucking window, maybe?” Ellie snaps at her.

Joel silences her with a glare and then takes Maria by her arms, moving her to stand behind him. “Open the goddamn door!” he commands firmly, pounding his fist harshly against the wood. He can almost feel the way you freeze on the other side the moment you hear the sound of his voice. “Open this fuckin’ door right now!”

Ellie chimes in, “Come on, please open the door!”

“Go away!”

Joel continues to beat his fists against the door. “Show me what he fuckin’ did to you!” He shouts as he drops his hands to the doorknob, clawing at it as if somehow that’s going to do the trick and open the door. “C’mon! Show me what that fuckin’ bastard did to you!”

“Please, go away, all of you! Just leave me alone!”

“You know we can’t do that,” Maria calls. “You’re going to have to open this door and let us—”

Losing what very little patience he has to begin with in the first place, Joel cuts her off. “I will fuckin’ break this door down if I have to,” he threatens. “I’ll cause a scene and let everyone in this whole fuckin’ town know what Luke does to you. Is that what you want?”

He hears the lock click almost instantly.

Finally, you crack the door open and peek out to show them your face. “There, you fucking see?” Your face is blotchy, your eyes red and swollen from crying. “I’m fucking fine! Now fucking go away!”

You try shutting the door, but Joel is too quick and slips the toe of his boot in, wedging it between the door and the doorframe.

“Move, Joel!”

“Nope,” he says, keeping it planted firmly in place.

Not wanting to break his foot, you let up and he shoves his way inside with Ellie and Maria trailing behind him.

Taking a clumsy step backwards, you gather up the front of your knitted cardigan in your trembling hands, bunching it around your neck to conceal it. “Get out! Please, just get out!” you beg them through your sobs. “Please leave! I’m fine! Look at me, I’m perfectly fine—”

Heart hammering painfully against his sternum, Joel walks over and he takes your wrists. “Let me see. Baby, please. Just let me see.” His voice is raw, thick, as if he were on the verge of tears himself. He just knows he’s failed you, failed to keep all those promises he had made about never letting anything bad happen to you. He’s fucking failed. Again. He tries to find your gaze, but you refuse to look him in the eye. “Let me see,” he chokes out again, the warmth of his skin a stark contrast against the iciness of your own. “I’ll force you if I have to, so please just show me. Please, just fuckin’ show me what he did to you.”

Letting out another agonized sob, you drop your hands and let go of the material, letting it fall back into place at your sides and exposing your injury.

Maria gasps into her hands. “God.” 

“Fuck.” Ellie’s eyes widen in complete horror.

Joel drops your wrists, taking a step backwards as his eyes glaze over the severe discoloration around your neck.

He feels fucking sick to his stomach, but it isn’t until he notices the clear imprint of a square belt buckle on the column of your throat that Joel thinks he might actually be sick all over the floor.

“What the hell is going on in here?”

Luke’s voice suddenly echoes through the foyer. He stands near the front door, looking thoroughly confused—that is, until he sees you standing there, exposing what he had done to you the night before with his belt. The very same belt he’s wearing now.

No one has the chance to speak.

No one has the chance to think.

No one even has the chance to breathe.

Joel charges at Luke. He roughly snatches the collar of his jacket and pulls him further into the foyer of the house, away from the open front door so that he has nowhere to run.

You rush towards them. “Joel, stop! No!”

Maria quickly hurries to stop you, grabbing you by the back of your sweater. She yanks you back and out of harm’s way. “Don’t!”

Horrified, you watch as Joel slams Luke straight into the mirror hanging on the wall—head first. He pulls him forward, then slams him back even harder, the impact completely shattering the glass. Hundreds of shards go flying across the hardwood floor.

“Oh shit! Watch out!” Ellie jumps back as a sharp piece of broken glass lands between her sneakers.

“Joel, stop it! Please, stop!” you cry out as Maria grasps your arm to keep you from jumping in the middle of the altercation. “Stop it!”

But Joel is too far gone. Ignoring your desperate cries, he wraps one hand around Luke’s neck, holding him in place. His other hand curls into a tight fist and he starts delivering bone shattering blow after bone shattering blow to his face. “You wanna fuckin’ hit someone?” He snarls as the man’s nose cracks beneath his knuckles. “You wanna fuckin’ put your hands on someone? Huh? Then you fuckin’ put ‘em on me! C’mon, I fuckin’ dare you to put ‘em on me!”

Throwing Luke onto the floor, Joel climbs on top of him and he secures both of his hands around his throat. He feels the uncontrollable urge to do to him what he had done to you—only, unlike Luke, he doesn’t need a belt, and unlike Luke, he isn’t going to stop.

He isn’t going to let him live.

Joel squeezes Luke’s neck, cutting off his oxygen.

“How do you fuckin’ like it,” he hisses, irises going from brown to black as he presses harder on his windpipe. “C’mon, tough guy, tell me how you fuckin’ like it.”

Luke feebly claws and scratches at his hands, gurgling as blood starts coming out of his nose and mouth.

“Joel! Stop!” Tommy rushes into the house, his boots scraping against the floor as he skids to halt. Without hesitating, he jumps into action. “Joel, stop! Fuckin’ let him go! Let him go!” He reaches down to pull him off.

“Look at what he did to her! Fuckin’ look at her!”

Tommy turns his attention to you, and the color drains from his face. “Jesus Christ,” he breathes out, shocked by the mark around your neck. He has half a mind to step back and allow Joel to finish the job, but with you, Ellie, and Maria watching on in terror, Tommy doesn’t have a choice. He grabs fistfuls of Joel’s denim shirt and tries to tug him off the man he’s about to kill. “Fuckin’ let him go, Joel! Right now! That’s an order!”

Luke’s attempts to fight him off grow weaker. His face is beaten beyond recognition, and there’s a pool of dark red growing under him, dripping from a deep laceration he’d sustained from the being slammed head first into the mirror. His hands fall from around Joel’s wrists. He’s close to losing complete consciousness.

“Joel, let him go!” Tommy bellows. “Now!”

“Tommy, be careful!” Maria warns him, worriedly.

Somehow, he finally manages to peel Joel off Luke. He shoves him up against the nearest wall, pinning him in place. Behind him, Luke coughs and sputters violently, gasping as he frantically tries to breathe some air back into his lungs.

“Fuckin’ let go of me!” Joel growls, his eyes wild as he drives his fists into Tommy’s chest. “I’ll fuckin’ kill him! Let me fuckin’ go!”

Tommy cups Joel’s face in his hands and tries to meet his gaze. “Hey, look at me, I need you to calm the fuck down—I said fuckin’ look at me, Joel!” He demands. “I need you to calm the fuck down. I know that he fuckin’ deserves it, alright? Trust me, it’s takin’ all the strength I’ve got in me not to fuckin’ let go, let you kill the son of a bitch. Hell, there’s a part of me that wants to help you fuckin’ do it! But it ain’t the way we handle things here. M’gonna need you to take a breath and calm down, big brother. If anythin’, just do it for her sake, alright?”

Joel’s chest heaves, his breaths rough and ragged as his eyes flicker over to you. His heart sinks at the sight of you sobbing uncontrollably in Ellie and Maria’s arms.

Groaning, Luke rolls over onto his stomach and spits a mouthful of blood into the floor. “You can fucking have her,” he rasps, looking up at Joel through swollen eyes. “Keep her. Keep the useless little whore.”

Blinded by white hot rage, Joel starts thrashing around in Tommy’s grasp and tries to break loose. “Fuckin’ call her that again you fuckin’ son of a bitch—”

“Shit.” Dropping her arms from around you, Ellie steps forward, standing protectively in front of both you and Maria.

“Get the fuck off me, Tommy! M’gonna fuckin’ kill him!”

Maria tucks your face into her shoulder. “Don’t watch.”

“Joel, fuckin’ stop it already!” Tommy struggles to keep him in place. “You’re scarin’ her half to death!”

“I don’t fuckin’ care—”

Tommy’s fingers curl around the collar of his shirt. He slams Joel back against the wall so hard, the mirror, or at least what’s left of it, falls. The square frame breaks in half when it hits the floor.

“Well, you should fuckin’ care! She’s pregnant, Joel.”

You lift your head from Maria’s shoulder. “Tommy.”

Ellie spins around on her heel to face you. She stares at you with wide, round eyes. “You’re fucking pregnant?”

Joel looks over at you. Just as shocked, if not more.

“What?” 

Tommy grabs his chin, forcing his older brother to look at him once more. “It’s true,” he murmurs quietly. “So please, just take a goddamn breath and calm the fuck down. For her sake—and for the sake of your child.” He releases Joel’s shirt and takes a careful step backwards towards Luke, who is still groaning in pain on the floor. Once he realizes Joel isn’t going to charge him again, Tommy turns around and grabs the injured man by the lapels of his jacket, pulling him up to his feet in a rough, careless manner. “Get the fuck up,” he says. He drags him towards the door. “C’mon, let’s go.”

“Tommy? Where are you taking him?” Maria questions him.

“Town jail. M’gonna throw his sorry ass in a fuckin’ cell and leave him in there ‘til we figure out what to do with him.” He glances over his shoulder. “I’ll get the council together for an emergency meetin’ tonight.”

“Jesus,” Ellie mutters under her breath as soon as they disappear. “Did this really just fucking happen?”

Chest still heaving, Joel glances down at his bloodied, torn knuckles and then turns to you, his eyes meeting yours. The tension between the two of you is almost palpable.

Maria lightly clears her throat. “We should probably get out of here,” she suggests. “Let’s head on over to mine and Tommy’s while we wait for him to get back.”

“Are you cold?” Ellie asks, worriedly.

She holds up a blue fleece throw blanket she’d dug out from the hallway closet despite you warning her not to snoop around the house while Maria’s in the bathroom tending to Joel’s hand.

Shaking your head, you sigh, “I’m fine.”

“But it’s cold in here.” She drapes the blanket over your hunched shoulders. “Can I get you something? Water? Are you hungry? You should probably eat something—”

“Ellie, please stop with all the fussing.” You pat the spot on the couch beside you. “Just sit here with me. That’s all I need right now.”

Nodding, she sits down and angles herself toward you, getting a closer look at the wound you’d been left with.

“Shit,” Ellie mutters under her breath. Grimacing, she lifts a hand and gingerly presses her fingertips to your neck in disbelief. “Fuck, dude. How bad does it hurt?” She touches a particularly sore spot on the column of your throat and you hiss in pain. She retracts her hand and sputters an apology, “Fuck, I’m sorry! I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

Wincing, you assure her, “It’s fine. It’s just a little tender right now, that’s all.”

“A little?” she scoffs.

“Okay, maybe more than a little,” you admit.

Ellie observes you for a moment. “Are you okay?”

“It’ll heal, Ellie. It looks worse than it really is.”

“No, I mean—” Pausing, Ellie moves her hand, placing it on your stomach. “Is the baby okay?”

You glance down at yourself, almost as if you expected to see something different about yourself, but then you remember you’re only about six weeks along and there is nothing to see, no significant changes to your body. Perhaps it’s the reason why there’s a part of you having a hard time grasping that Ellie’s asking if the baby was okay. If your baby is okay.

After a minute, you nod. “Yeah, I think so,” you reply softly, putting a hand over hers.

Relieved, Ellie flashes you a small smile. “Good.”

“How are you two doing in here?” Maria appears in the living room with Joel trailing behind her. His right hand is wrapped up in a white bandage.

“We’re okay.” Ellie glances at Joel. “You okay?”

He gives a quick, subtle nod of his head. “M’fine.”

“We can take her home now, right?” When Ellie doesn’t ge the immediate response she’s seeking, she shoots him a tiny little glare. “She’s coming home with us, isn’t she? I mean, she fucking has to come home with us.”

He still doesn’t answer her question.

All Joel can do is stare at you, jaw clenched and his lips pressed into a tight, thin line.

“Hey, Ellie, how about we go into the kitchen and make some tea?” Maria beckons to her with her hand.

She snorts. “Seriously? Who the hell wants fucking tea after that fucking shitshow—”

Maria pins her with an exasperated glare. “Ellie.”

“Oh shit, okay. I get it now,” Ellie quickly realizes it’s simply an excuse for the two of them to leave the room. Dropping her hand away from your stomach, she jumps up to her feet and wraps her arms around you. Her hug is brief, but full of warmth and reassurance, as if she’s silently telling you everything’s going to be alright. She releases you and follows Maria to the kitchen, leaving you and Joel alone.

Nervously, you stand up, your knees wobbling.

You feel torn—torn between wanting to run over to him and jump into his arms, and wanting to run away in the opposite direction to find somewhere to bury your head in shame. You’d promised him he had nothing to worry about, swore to him you couldn’t bear a child, and now here you were, carrying his and putting a responsibility on his shoulders he didn’t ask for. A responsibility that, surely, he doesn’t want.

On top of everything else he’d been through with you.

No, because of you. And now this?

Somehow, you muster up enough courage to speak.

“Joel,” you squeak his name. “Say something.”

“You sure you’re pregnant?” He asks, quietly. He stands across the room, making no move to come closer.

Swallowing harshly, you nod. “I’m sure.”

“How long have you known?”

“I only just found out yesterday,” you swear.

“And Tommy and Maria fuckin’ knew before me?”

It’s hard to tell if he’s angry or if he’s disappointed—not that either was a better option than the other.

“I was here with them yesterday in the afternoon. I got sick out of nowhere. Maria’s the one who suspected it and suggested I take a pregnancy test when I realized I haven’t had my period since August. After the first time that you and I—well, you know.” Shifting from one foot to the other, you continue to explain, “It never even fucking crossed my mind, Joel. I didn’t notice anything. I didn’t notice the symptoms. Missing my period, the dizziness, and the nausea. I was so busy trying to keep myself from fucking falling apart without you that it all went right over my head.”

Joel’s harsh expression suddenly softens.

“I took the test. When the results turned out positive, I just lost it. I fucking lost it, and I told Tommy and Maria everything because I was scared.” Your voice breaks, and a tear slips out from the corner of your eye, rolling down the side of your face. Several more threaten to follow, but you blink them back. “They offered to help me, Joel. They wanted to get me out of the house last night, but I was too fucking stubborn. I didn’t listen to them. I thought I’d be fine for one more night, but when Luke came home, he wanted to be intimate with me.”

Joel sucks in a sharp breath. His anger boils in his veins all over again. “And did he—he touch you like that?”

“No, of course not. I didn’t let him. I couldn’t let him. I told him not to touch me and I pushed him away.”

“Then what happened?”

“I told him that it was over. That our marriage was over and I was leaving. That’s when he took off his belt and he—” Gesturing to your throat, you start sobbing again as images of the night before flood your mind.

Luke had done pretty horrific things to you before, but this? 

This had been the worst of them. He almost killed you.

“Baby.” Joel rushes over to you and pulls you right into his arms. “Shh, darlin’. S’alright,” he soothes. “S’alright, you’re safe now. I’ve got you.”

Whimpering, you met into his touch, the very touch you have been missing with every fiber of your being. “I’m so sorry, Joel,” you croak into his chest. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

He pulls away slightly, peering down at you. “Sorry? For what?” Without even giving you the chance to answer, he assures you, “There ain’t nothin’ for you to apologize for, sweet girl. Alright?”

You let out a tearful scoff. “Joel, I’m pregnant. And it’s fucking yours,” you remind him, the guilt in your tone loud and clear. “Don’t you remember how worried you were about it? And how I told you that you had nothing to be concerned about?”

“Don’t put it all on yourself, peach.”

You almost smile.

Oh, how you’ve missed hearing him call you that.

“Look, this is on me too, baby. Part of me knew there was still a possibility, but I didn’t care. All I cared ‘bout was makin’ you mine every fuckin’ chance I got.” Joel’s hand cups the side of your face. He chuckles nervously and says, “Y’know, at one point, I kinda thought I was at the age where I’m shootin’ blanks more than anythin’ else. Guess we were both wrong, huh?”

“Joel—”

He cuts you off. “And if you’re worried I’m upset ‘bout you bein’ pregnant, you’re wrong ‘bout that too, darlin’.”

Surprised, you blurt, “You mean, you want the baby?”

Now it's his turn to be taken aback.

“Y’thought I wouldn’t want it?”

“Yeah,” you confess, sheepishly. “I thought you would be mad about this, if I’m being honest, Joel. I wasn’t sure if you’d even want anything to do with it.” Noticing he’d taken some offense to the notion that he wouldn’t want his own child, you exhale a small sigh and place a hand on his chest. “Come on, Joel, can you honestly blame me? When you were the one who was so damn worried about me getting knocked up in the first place? Wouldn’t you have thought the same if you were me?”

He grazes your cheek with his thumb. “Can’t lie to you, sweetheart. I probably would have.” Letting his hand fall away from your face, Joel takes a seat on the couch and pulls you down onto his lap. “Sure as hell wasn’t in my plans to have another kid in my fuckin’ fifties. But y’know, the idea of having a little one runnin’ around, it ain’t all that fuckin’ bad.” He pauses, adding with a faint grin, “‘Specially if he or she happens to look like you.”

Relieved, you lean into his chest, shoulders sagging in exhaustion. 

“You alright?” Joel murmurs, pressing a kiss into your hair.

Burying your face into his neck, you breathe him in. “I am now that I’m with you,” you confess as he wraps his arms around you, holding you tighter than he ever has before.

“M’gonna take real good care of you, darlin’. Both of you,” Joel reassures you, softly. “Nothin’s gonna hurt you, baby. S’long as you’re with me, nothin’ or no one is ever gonna hurt you ever again. Swear it on my life.”

#fic: a safe haven #fic: ash #joel miller series #Joel Miller angst #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #tw: dv #tw: domestic violence #tw: pregnancy

[predestinatos]

cinnamon taste ⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙ — CL16

pairing: charles leclerc x female!reader

summary: your best friend showing up at your apartment isn't the only surprise you had that day

tags: best friends to lovers, giddy and shy charles, sooo much fluff, christmas vibes, improvised and creative mistletoe confession

words: 2.6k

note: someone requested something along these lines and i had sooo much fun writing it!! my heart is full and warm... rlly hope u guys like it too and happy holidays for those who celebrate

The scent of cinnamon and apple filled your lungs as you entered your apartment door. You congratulated yourself on the good choice of incense, apparently, but also punished yourself for seemingly leaving the music on while you were out. Jazz-y Christmas songs were playing softly, your living room feeling like a daydream of warmth and coziness.

But that dream was soon shattered upon the realization that you had brought your phone with you – there was no way it was still connected to Bluetooth. Someone was in your house.

Before you had time to panic as you removed your gloves and jacket, a figure appears before you and spins you in the air, embracing you tightly. At first, you screamed, terrified. But then the figure placed you on the floor, continuously repeating “it’s me it’s me I’m sorry” while giggling.

You immediately recognized the voice – your best friend was wrapped in an apron, glasses on and remnants of flour on his messy brown locks. Immediately, your heart went from racing to galloping, fear replaced by happiness. However, before you could show the good part, you punched him slightly in the chest, the hit clearly not producing any sort of damage. “You are such an idiot, Charles! You almost killed me” you said, although a smile was creeping in your lips and eyes as he pulled you for a hug.

Despite how long you’ve known each other, the hugs always felt the same: earnest, meaningful, his heart beating next to your ear, hands wrapped around you like a warm caress. It felt like this when you were 10 and played together, when you were 15 and snuck out together, and now this. You weren’t expecting to see him, especially not this close to Christmas day.

“I thought I’d do something with the spare key you gave me when I crashed here for a few weeks,” he said, as if reading your thoughts, already jumping between wondering how he got in and when he did it. His eyes, filled with affection, seemed simultaneously nervous, registering your face as if in analyzing it carefully.

Before you had time to ask, he pulled your arm and guided you to the kitchen – your own kitchen – warmly telling you “I have a surprise.” You followed him and as you entered the small marble kitchen, the scent hit you even harder. It smelt of comfort, of a cozy campfire feeling, of sweet bakeries opened and filled with decorations, all inside your house. The kitchen itself was slightly messy, hinting at its use, and Charles stood in it proudly, grabbing some mittens to remove the delicious smelling content from the oven.

They were cookies, made in all possible shapes and sizes – some unidentifiable, as he clearly did them by hand. The image of them filled your heart, your best friend placing them on the counter as he checked if they were ready to be eaten, almost like a postcard waiting to be stilled in time. “For how long are you staying?” you asked, afraid of the answer.

That fear proved itself right as you saw his expression change suddenly, the smile leaving his eyes and remaining only on his lips, an attempt at feigning comfort where there could possibly be none. “The day after tomorrow” he said, after a small cough, acting as if it was nothing, trying to lessen the pain of not knowing when you’d see him again.

Just for that moment, you decided to shrug it off as well, to ignore the elephant in the room that were the less than 48 hours you had to enjoy each other’s company, the knowledge that the old times of friendship won’t come back. “Better eat all of those until then!” you said, in your best effort to showcase as little sadness as possible.

You opened one of your cabinets and removed two mugs from it, one of them farther away than expected. On your tiptoes, you reached for the red mug with a big C on it, with “clumsy” written underneath in small letters. It was reserved especially for Charles, a small part of him that remained untouched from the moment he left and would only be touched again when he came back – which wasn’t often. Upon seeing it, his smile lit up once again, dimples showing on his slightly flushed cheeks, his upper arm reaching to fix the glasses he was wearing as his hands were busy sprinkling cinnamon all over the biscuits.

Placing the just made hot chocolate on the small glass coffee table in your living room, you waited for Charles, who showed up holding a plate decorated with all of his creations, which he placed next to your mugs.

You wrapped around blankets as you sat on the floor, mimicking simpler times, nostalgia running through your veins as the liquid you drank ran through your throats. Charles’ eyes scanned your living room again, “did you decorate this all by yourself?” he asked, as he analyzed the matching patterns in your white Christmas tree and how well they fit with the honey tones of the decorations scattered carefully around the room.

“Depends,” you replied, smiling, “Do you like it?” He looked at you then, the same nervousness returning to his cheeks, red from something that couldn’t be the cold, given the warmth inside your apartment. For the first time since you knew him, his eyes studied your face in a way that made you look away timidly. “Yes it’s amazing” he replied, answering the question as a way to break the sudden tension, but creating an opposite effect.

“A friend helped me” you confessed to him, shrugging. “I don’t think you know him, he-” you were about to begin, but Charles’ eyes shot to you and then quickly to the content inside his mug, fidgeting as he did so. “He and his girlfriend, love decorations and had some extra stuff from their last year so they added a lot to this” you explained, emphasizing the word ‘girlfriend’ as if it needed to be, as if you owed your best friend an explanation or seal of approval that you weren’t aware of until now. You knew it was necessary, however, when you saw his shoulders relax at your words, chest rising and falling softly underneath his sweater.

You rested your head against his shoulders reassuringly, letting him know that he wouldn’t miss any detail of your life, that you’d always make sure to update him on everything. You weren’t sure that’s what he wanted but you hoped he would understand the sentiment behind it, and you were sure he did when he laid a soft kiss on the top of your head.

His body smelled of cinnamon itself, sweet and lovely, and you couldn’t help but pull him closer by the arm, feeling his warmth which you hadn’t for so long. “I missed you, Charlie” you said, smiling to yourself. “Me too, silly” he replied whilst slowly pushing you away and getting up. “Which reminds me, I have something for you.”

You looked up at your best friend, feeling the cold spot from where he previously was, as he ran hurriedly to one of your spare rooms – which could be called his room since that was all the use it had. “Why don’t you just give it to me and I’ll open on Christmas? I don’t want to jinx it!” you yelled from your sitting place, biting one of the tree-shaped biscuits he had prepared, amazed at its taste and softness.

he came back holding a small box in his hands, carefully wrapped and decorated with a red ribbon at the top. Pride was written all over his smile and gaze as he sat down in front of you, handing you the present as he grabbed one of his own biscuits. “Because,” he said, in between bites “this is very important and urgent” he continued, giggling excitedly. You could tell from his tone that his voice was overly excited, almost acting, but you didn’t want to push him, not when he stared at you anxiously, eyes big and expectant like a puppy. His giggles were quickly replaced by sudden seriousness as soon as your hands started unwrapping the present carefully, not even wanting to ruin the package.

You were faced with a box, beautiful and cushioned, its surface gorgeously reminding you of wine nights with the company of the man who seemed not to be able to sit still in front of you. “Open it” he said, swallowing hard and nervously, leaning closer and closer with your every movement. You complied, your own curiosity threatening to jump out of your mouth, hands shaking as Charles’ own breath seemed almost irregular.

Inside it, you saw a delicate crystal, green, red and clear, in the shape of a plant. Not a plant – mistletoe. It glistened beautifully and its fragility fascinated you. It was beautiful, and you remained speechless as you examined it. “Charlie it’s-” you started, though you had no words to describe what you were feeling. Of course, the gift was absolutely mesmerizing, a small token that was impossible to not notice. Yet, you didn’t exactly know what it meant.

Charles gave you no time to think about it before he moved awkwardly, getting closer to you, closer than usual even for you two. “Listen, I… Do you want to hang it somewhere?” he said, the question so sudden, like a window that opened quickly and let all the cold wind inside the room. You looked into his eyes and found yourself still unable to speak, resorting to a simple nod as you got up, the box still resting in your hands, and he followed your movements.

You decided to hang it carefully in one of the tallest branches of your Christmas tree, where the lights hit beautifully and made it the centerpiece, stealing all the attention from the star at the top. “It’s beautiful” you finally managed to say, along with an earnest thank you, and you were about to turn back to the warm blanket when his fingertips stopped you by softly resting on your wrist.

“Wait,” he started, barely moving. All movement you could witness came from his nostrils as he exhaled deeply, his gaze completely focused on you. “I need to tell you something” he continued, looking up at the gift he had just given you. Following his gaze, you realized what he meant. “Oh. Oh this was for someone else- it’s fine Charlie mistakes happen-” you began, rising to your tiptoes in order to remove the ornament, almost laughing at your own silliness.

Once again that night, Charles stopped you, laughing warmly. “God, you’re so silly sometimes,” he told you, and despite the cold toned color of his eyes, they expressed such warmth it took your breath away. “No, this gift is for you. That’s what I mean,” he said, stumbling across his every word, “I gave you this because you’re the one I want to experience this with. The whole mistletoe kissing thing. Maybe this is silly…” his hand flew to his neck awkwardly, reminding you of when he was younger and in high school, trying to impress some girl he had a crush on.

You weren’t exactly sure what he meant, nor what it could mean for your friendship in general. But you were sure you wanted to experience that moment with him as well, feel him closer to you than you ever did, your every muscle begging you to act. “Do it then” you dared him, your own nervousness coming out. You thought about how silly it was, your nervousness, given how old you two were, how much you had witnessed together, the moment so out of the ordinary yet seemingly so predictable, as if it was destined to happen.

At that, Charles’ eyes widened, but his whole body went into action. His hand went to your cheek as the other pulled you by your waist, eyes falling on your lips as if everything moved in slow motion. You placed your own hands on his chest, feeling his racing heartbeat as his lips fell on yours, so soft and familiar despite how unknown it all was. The sudden smell of chestnuts and ginger intensified as the room seemed to transform, how despite the warmth you almost felt snow falling on both of your bodies. Charles couldn’t get enough of you, his hand going from your cheek to the back of your neck, begging you for more, for the moment to last for as long as possible.

Like a magnet, your own hands caressed and pulled his hair incessantly, reassuring him that you weren’t going anywhere, as his heartbeat stabilized in calmness and comfort in how well your lips fit on his. His closeness was intoxicating, and you felt dizzy from how good you were feeling with his sheer presence, how right everything seemed to feel, how effortlessly he got you in your best mood.

Pulling away, you saw a smile which you had rarely seen in Charles’ face. It happened at his most happiest moments – when he won races, when he beat you at rock paper scissors when you were kids, when he got the best scores in spelling bees – it reached every muscle in his body and yours, so contagious was his cheerfulness.

“I’ve wanted to do this for so long,” he said, giddy and red from shyness, looking so innocent all of a sudden, despite his grip still on your waist. “I’ve been so confused, especially since the last time I stayed over. No one can make me feel like you do, and this is so hard to explain, and I don’t know how it got to this point but I have been thinking about it every day, about how good I feel when I am with you, how I just get so incredibly happy and-” you quieted his rambling by giving him a shy peck on his lips, giggling at how he stood motionless after it, eyes widened and eyebrows raised.

“I love you too” you told him, meaning every word, anxiously looking forward for the rest of your life.

#consti reqs ೀ ׅ ۫ . ㅇ #i had so much fun writing this #formula 1 #f1 #formula one #f1blr #f1 fandom #charles leclerc #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc oneshot #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x female reader #cl16 #cl16 x reader #cl16 imagine #cl16 x you #cl16 one shot #f1 x reader #f1 imagine

[riiwrites]

bsd men taking care of a cat

“Hello! Can I req for some headcannons about how Akutagawa, Chuuya, Fyodor, Sigma and Ada Dazai would react when their roommate brought home a stray cat? (They would be such cute cat dad's 😭)”

a/n : ofc u can! sorry for the long wait :(

fandom : bungo stray dogs

includes : sigma, dazai, chuuya, akutagawa, fyodor

all dividers i use belong to @/cafekitsune !!

masterlist | taglist | main page

SIGMA

• Sigma would just be minding his own business one day, doing something basic and essential like the laundry or cleaning while you were out shopping.

• He’d normally expect you to come in with a bag full of groceries and a big smile on your face, ready to tell him about what you had bought this time for him to try for dinner.

• What he didn’t expect however..was for you to not only do your basic chore of the day - but also bring in a fluffy little creature with its legs dangling as you hold it up in your arms.

• He’s a bit dazed for a second, eyes widening and his lips parted into a shocked 'o' shape as he tries to read what was going on in that head of yours.

• You both stand there for a few moments, the silence slowly turning awkward until you finally break it.

“Do you not like it?” You say with a pout. Sigma drops his washing cloth onto the table as he turns fully towards you.

“I mean..it’s a surprise.” He emphasises, a little chuckle escaping his lips at the end of his sentence. Your smile returns as you tilt your head to the safe, the little kitten coincidentally doing the same thing.

“Can we keep it, Sigma? Pleasepleasepleaseee..” You plead. He lets out a soft sigh at this, seeming unsure of what to do.

“Even if I had decided we could keep it, we don’t have the correct resources in order to properly care for it and we also don’t know what that poor things been through. It could carry all sorts of diseases!”

You gasp dramatically, cuddling the cat to your chest as you glare at your roommate from across the hall.

“Don’t say that to mittens..”

“You named it..?”

• After a while of your pouting and whining that lasted for about 10 minutes, he accepted the kitty with welcome arms.

• ..After it was given its shots and treatments.

• I believe Sigma is a fond cat lover when he gets used to having one around.

• He’ll bring it everywhere with him inside the house.

• He’d never let the cat outside unless it was in one of those cages..

• He’d get so worried if the cat were to leave home, even for a few hours!!

• He becomes so easily attached to the cat, it’s adorable.

“Y/N? Have you seen Mittens..?” Sigma appears at your side with a slightly worried expression, him fiddling with his fingers as he looks around anxiously.

You turn to him with a raised eyebrow, looking at his fidgety hands and then back at him. “I thought you had him with you?”

“I did..! I set him on your desk whilst I was working and the next minute I looked and then he vanished!”

He rakes his pale hands down his face, looking genuinely stressed for this little kitty you’ve both only had for a few weeks.

That was then, you heard the sound of a thud coming from upstairs. You both jump, Sigma having the worse effect of it since he was already on edge in the first place.

You both rush upstairs, Sigma behind you as you peak into your room ; nothing out of the ordinary, until Sigma taps your shoulder only for you to see Sigmas door a tad bit open as if someone had just slyly slipped through the crack.

You both peer into Sigmas room, only to be greeted with a sight that lights mostly Sigmas eyes up.

Mittens, splayed onto Sigmas king sized bed like a luxurious royal with a few knocked over picture frames that obviously had been caused by Mittens himself. But Sigma could only smile at the sight given the outcome that his- sorry, ‘our cat’ as he corrects, is safe.

“..I think you’ve grown an unhealthy attachment to this cat.” You say. Sigma only gives a mere shrug and a few embarrassed chuckles as he rubs the back of his neck sheepishly, not conforming nor denying that statement.

DAZAI

• I’m gonna be honest and say it - he’d be the one bringing the cat in..

• He’d see a homeless little kitty on the sidewalk and be like “Oh! you’re coming with me!”

• He’s like the classic stereotype of a cat lady who’s got thousands of cats living at her feet.

• So when he comes home with the white stray cat in his arms, you sigh.

“No.”

“What?! You haven’t even given me the chance to hear what I have to say!” He argues.

“I know what you’re going to say, Osamu, and it’s a no.”

“But..” He holds up the white fluff ball up to your face.

“He looks like Atsushi-kun..”

“…”

“Fine.”

“Yay!”

• At this point you believe the cat takes care of Dazai more than Dazai takes care of the cat.

• Brings the cat to work at the agency with him.

•Everyone loves the kitty, pouting and stroking his fur as he purrs. Everyone loves him! (Especially Kyokua and Kenji <33)

• Although Kunikida scolds him for it because of how the cat spilled coffee all over his files one time.

• He could only glare at the cat as he licks his paws and meows.

• “..I can always buy more..”

• Dazais definitely the type to play pranks on the cat

• Like, place cucumber next to it so the cat can absolutely shit itself and he’d post it everywhere cuz he thinks he’s funny (Chuuya dislikes every single one and calls it animal cruelty)

• The cat however, doesn’t find him funny.

• Ends up with scratches littered across his face and some down his neck by the time he’s out of his bedroom.

“What the hell..?”

“Don’t..ask..”

Which is why you’re now in this predicament, patching him up in your bedroom.

You place a plaster on his nose, patting it gently before sighing softly.

“You bully that cat too much..” You state.

“Nuh uh! He’s the one that brutally assaulted me, why are you taking his side?”

“Alright let’s not go say brutally here..” You huff out a laugh.

He sighs dramatically, before you both hear a freak coming from your door, noticing the cat pushing through the door and slowly making its way in. Dazai glares.

“No, oh no you don’t..” He gets up slowly, backing away.

“Oh my god stop acting like a child, sit the hell down!” You exclaim, grabbing his arm and dragging him to sit back down.

He huffs and sits down, crossing his arms and looking away.

“I have nothing to say to you!” He says to the cat.

“He doesn’t care.” You say monotone, rolling your eyes.

He glares only until the cat jumps on the bed, strutting over to Dazai and curling up in his lap, purring and nuzzling into him.

Silence fills the room only until it’s filled by Dazais sounds of high pitched noise and kissing sounds.

“Ooooh..I’m just so sorry! It was my fault wasn’t it..? Yes it was..It really was..”

You snort a laugh, chuckling as you smile at the sight, taking out your phone to take millions of pictures to send to the agency.

CHUUYA

• So we know he’s more of a dog person, but..

• Y’know the type of person to be so against the idea but then immediately love the animal like it’s their child?

• That’s him.

“Why are you giving me that face??” You ask with a pout.

“What is it with you and bringing goddamn fleabags back to our apartment?!”

You scoff at Chuuya’s complaint, rolling your eyes as you hold the definite disease filled cat to your chest.

“Don’t do that, you’ll get fucking ringworm!!”

“We don’t even know if he has it!”

“So it’s a he now?”

You nod instantly, seeming so sure. That’s when Chuuya sighs heavily, grabbing his car keys on the kitchen counter and swiftly brushing past you and to the door.

“Where are you going?” You ask with furrowed eyebrows.

“Where are we going ya mean..we’re getting that damn thing tested and you’re coming with.”

You smile, nodding, but then stop.

“..You’re not gonna put him down are you?”

He squints his eyes and gives you a dirty look, grabbing the door handle.

“The hell? I’m not a damn monster, come on..let’s go.”

• Turns out the cat didn’t have ringworm, the cat was just rather dirty and needed a wash up and a new home.

• Oh, and turns out she’s a girl!

“I could’ve sworn she was a boy..” You furrow your eyebrows, looking at the cat now resting peacefully in the cage Chuuya you had bought for it.

“I knew it was a girl.” Chuuya states matter a factly, keeping his eyes on the road. You give him a glare.

“Oh shut up, just because you want a dog.”

“Hey, I could buy a damn dog if I wanted to, but no, instead I have to put up with your ass bringing back unnecessary things like rats off the street!”

“It’s a cat..”

“Whatever.”

• Around a few weeks later, you come home and your nostrils are flooded with the mixed smell of tuna and cat food, your nose bunches up in disgust.

• You head towards the smell, the living room and your eyes widen in surprise at what you see.

• Chuuya, who was currently sitting on the floor pampering the cat, whilst she had the higher ground by sitting on a pillow which was placed on the glass table you both had recently purchased.

You stand there for a few moments, head tilting as you blink in surprise, then a little smile creeps up on your lips as you let out a snort.

Chuuya instantly turns to his side with an alarmed look, then seeing it was just you his expression softens and he rolls his eyes.

“Don’t look at me like that..” He says with an irritated tone as he looks back to the cat, now stroking her face with the back of his hand.

“I cannot believe I’m witnessing this right now..” You say to mostly yourself, covering your joyful expression with your hand to try and not irritate Chuuya even further, which of course fails due to your snickering.

“Get that stupid look off your face now.”

You roll your eyes playfully, rushing over to join him in pampering your cat.

“She’s grown on me.” He admits, a small smile placed on his face. You also smile, nudging him playfully.

“So you had to buy the entire pet store?” You ask, referring to the clearly high priced items he had purchased ranging from toys to beds and litter boxes.

“Shut your damn mouth..” He mutters, but you could’ve sworn you heard a chuckle escape past his lips just once.

AKUTAGAWA

• Akutagawa isn’t a cat person.

• Infact, he’s not an animal person.

• Not that he doesn’t like them, just that he’s rather..inexperienced when it comes to taking care of a cat.

• Like Sigmas reaction, he’d be confused and more irritated with the fact that the cat you chose had a resemblance to someone.

Akutagawa froze in place, looking at you with an expression of slight shock. There you stand, with a delicate little ball of fluff in your arms. You beckon for him to come closer with a smile on your face, he hesitates for a moment before approaching, hand covering his face but as he got up close, the neutral expression melts to one of annoyance and exasperation.

“Must you have picked that one out of all of them..?” He questions, his arms crossed with a look of disgust placed on his face.

You smirk, holding up the bicoloured kitty in your arms and shoving it in Akutagawas face, with which he instantly turns the other way. You laugh.

“..You did this on purpose didn’t you..?” He questions again. You could only snicker as he lets out an exasperated sigh.

• At first, he lets you handle the kitty, almost like he’s afraid to touch it.

• Stands atleast a few feet away from you whenever it’s with you.

“Are you..allergic..?”

*cough cough* “Yes.”

• He infact, was not.

• However, you don’t let him escape this easily.

• One day, you decide to leave the kitten on his bed whilst he was still sleeping as you leave in the early hours to run your own “errands”.

• It’s safe to say, he wakes up with a fright.

• He let’s out an annoyed groan as he reads the note on his desk.

• “Spend some time with your son! Have to run errands, buhbye~ (￣▽￣)”

• He calls you.

“Hello?”

“You idiot, why would you do this?!” He exclaims.

“Uhh, why would I as a decent human being have to go run errands and keep our home life cozy?” You ‘cluelessly’ ask, biting back a smirk although he can hear it evidently in your voice through the phone.

“No because I know you don’t have any plans to run any ‘errands’ any time soon, what do you take me for some damn fool..?”

“Oh lighten up, Ryū! You never know, it might be fun!” You reassure him, pausing for a moment.

“..But seriously, I really do need you to spend time with him because I read somewhere cats can become depressed if you neglect them for so long, do you want our cat to be depressed, Ryū?!”

“…”

“Don’t answer that..just- haveagood time okaybyeee!!”

“Wait- Y/N!!”

• He ends up awkwardly staring at the cat for a while, before actually getting up and putting in atleast some effort.

• He has to google ‘How to take care of cats’ on your computer and even going out to the library to try and find some books on them.

• A few hours later you stand outside the front door, taking a deep breath as to prepare yourself for the wrath you’re about to receive when you walk through that door.

• But instead, you hear a cough from behind you and a quiet voice speaking.

“Ah, Y/N, you’re home.”

You turn around and your eyes widen.

Akutagawa, had the kitty attached to a leash. You stare, absolutely dumbfounded and shocked. Akutagawa looks at you with a confused expression.

“..Why are you looking at me like that..?”

You shake your head as you put your fingers on each side of your temple, rubbing furiously.

“Okay okay, pause..what are you doing with our cat?” You ask. He looks at you and blinks before responding, looking down at the kitten.

“Oh, well..I read that some animals, especially cats prefer to be outdoors than indoors, so I bought a leash and took him for a walk.”

You stare at him, trying to process his words.

“You..took the cat..for a walk..?”

“..Yes.”

“The cat..for a walk.” You say again, trying to get it through his head.

“..Yes.”

There’s a ring of silence for a few moments, before Akutagawa breaks it.

“What else was I supposed to do?”

“Cats are more preferred to go out on their own, not tied to a leash.” You explain.

“..Oh..is that why some people were given me strange looks whilst I was walking doing the street with him?” He asks.

“I suppose.”

He looks down at the cat, nodding slowly.

“Just..” You start, opening the door for you guys with a slight smile. “Come in, I’ll help you with untying him.”

He nods again, picking up the kitten gently and you notice that’s the first time you’ve ever witnessed him getting as close to touching him. Your smile grows.

He brushes past you as you open the door for him, he stops just as he enters and turns to you, hesitating to ask something, but then he does.

“Did I..do good..?”

Your smile grows once more, before carefully placing your hand on his head, which he flinches slightly, but doesn’t stop you.

“You did great, Ryu.”

FYODOR

• Fyodors not too fussed on having a pet.

• Although he believes some could be a distraction to his work and plans, he wouldn’t mind them all much.

• But, would probably not pay much attention to them..

• That is until, you put one in his lap.

“My my..” He starts, looking up at you and looking down at the little black cat placed on his lap, now pawing at his desk. “What have we here?”

“A gift, and one more problem for you to deal with!” You say with such happiness in your tone of voice, he had almost chuckled.

“Funny, truly.” He says with a slight smile. “But I won’t be putting up with such.”

You raise an eyebrow in confusion. “Huh?”

“I won’t care for it.” He says, referring to the cat. You gasp, furrowing your eyebrows as you glare.

“You’re joking?”

“Have I ever?”

You cross your arms, scoffing at him.

“I bought this just for you, you know? How ungrateful!”

“But, I didn’t ask you to buy this for me, did I?” He says with a smirk, your expression was baffled as you scoff again, slapping your hand over your heart.

“I’m hurt you know.”

He looks at you once more before turning back to his work, ignoring the cat who was still trying to paw at his desk.

You had a sour look on your face all day until the same night as you were walking to your room, you couldn’t help but hear a jingle of bells coming from Fyodors room? Curiosity grew in your bones as you slowly approached his room, peeking through the crack of the door.

There he was, jingling a little bell in-front of the same cat he had ‘claimed’ he was going to ignore with a slight smile on his face, actually seemingly enjoying the cats company as it leaps up with its paws to try and catch the bell.

You couldn’t help but pout as your heart melts at the scene, scrambling in your pocket to find your phone to capture this moment.

However, curiosity did infact kill the cat (you) when you open the photo app and look up, you notice Fyodor gone, and not only that, but he was now behind the door, poking his head around and looking down at your phone.

You jolt up, throwing your phone and covering your mouth with your hand, he smirks. You only glare.

• Soon after that, you had your phone privileges revoked and kept from by Fyodor.

• And surprisingly enough, pays attention to the cat more than you now.

• Always jingling some sort of key or bell infront of its face

• Always having it on his lap.

• At this point you believe he’s just doing it to annoy you.

• But in all honesty, you found it sweet.

• Fyodor had bought the cat an outfit, one that matched his, the hat and all.

“Y/N, come have a look at this.” He says, hand motioning you to come forward. You nod, standing up from your place on the couch and approaching him. You think he’s just going to show you his layout for his current scheme, but no.

It’s the black cat hearing a little shrunken sized version of Fyodors hat and coat and you melt once again.

“Ooohhh..Fyodor you have to give me my phone back so I can take photos please!!”

“Fine.” He says almost instantly, which you find odd at first but quickly brush it off.

You open your phone and open your camera and take lots of photos of the kitty, then going on the photos and scrolling through them until you see some you had never taken before..Fyodor had taken them. You smirk.

“So much for not caring for it huh?”

He merely shrugs, typing on his computer.

“He’s my new sidekick, you’ve been replaced.”

You furrow your eyebrows as you kick his leg.

“I pay the bills, stupid.” You retort, glaring.

“I cook, ‘stupid’” Fyodor shoots back.

The only noise that can be heard is his typing on his computer and you snarl, looking him up and down with daggers as the kitten meows, nuzzling it’s cheek against Fyodors cold hand.

“Yes, i know malen'kiy kotenok (little kitty), they are rather annoying are they not?” He says to the cat, you narrow your eyes.

“Ew.”

-

@/riiwrites - reblogs are greatly appreciated ❤︎︎

#bsd #bungo stray dogs #bsd x reader #bsd headcanons #fluff #bsd x you #bsd dazai #bsd chuuya #bsd akutagawa #bsd sigma #bsd fyodor #sigma x reader #dazai x reader #chuuya x reader #akutagawa x reader #fyodor x reader #bsd dazai osamu #sigma x you #chuuya x reader fluff #chuuya fluff #dazai fluff #sigma fluff #fyodor fluff #akutagawa fluff #fyodor headcanons #sigma bsd headcanons #dazai headcanons #chuuya headcanons #akutagawa headcanons #riiwrites

[10liver]

I deeply love to imagine Bakugou as the grumpiest person walking on the earth when he grows up and pursues his heroic dream. But every grump needs his sunshine gf that's terrible at something.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺

"It's done!"

An ash-blonde tuft of hair peeked out from the kitchen doorframe before moving out from behind the wall with his softened scowl.

You glanced over your shoulder behind you at the tall male, smiling softly as you beamed him a loving gaze.

"Gonna pass me one or keep smilin' at me?"

He crossed his arms, a faint smile making its way on his lips before he began striding towards your bent figure as you took your homemade cookies out of the oven.

"Can't I do both?" You hummed before hissing when you accidentally touched the hot pan with your non-mittened hand.

His eyes barely widened before he quickly made his way over to you, looming over you as he stood behind you with your wrist in his overly large hand. "Idiot." He mumbled before rubbing your hand with his calloused fingers.

You huffed, rolling your eyes before pointing down at the cookies on the pan.

You were pretty adamant on learning how to bake. Why? Because you were absolutely ass at it. But that never stopped Bakugou from encouraging you and supporting each and every one of your pastries. But of course, since you weren't the best at baking, you can only guess how they'd come out.

"They look great, honey." He mumbled, kissing your cheek before taking a dark obsidian black, supposedly chocolate chip cookie.

You smiled brightly at your boyfriend as he took a hearty bite out of your cookie, your happiness never deterring as he kept a straight face.

That was all that mattered.

"So.. how are they..?" You whispered, turning around to face him as you craned your neck up.

He hummed in thought before throwing the rest of the cookie in his mouth and sticking his thumb up with approval.

He swallowed, clearing his throat before pointing behind you at the cookies, "Gonna give 'em to the group, that okay?"

"Of course!" You smiled, "Can I come? I wanna see their reactions and take some tips."

"'Course baby, go get dressed." And with a light tap on your behind, you were off to your shared bedroom with a small skip in your step.

"What are those." Kaminari whispered to Bakugou, pointing a slim finger at the cookies in a small zip lock baggy.

"My cookies." You replied before Bakugou could, glancing up at the charcoal in your boyfriend's hands.

The group froze before simultaneously nodding together. You took nothing of it, but Bakugou did as he sent a deathly glare to each of them.

"Go on, pick one." Bakugou grumbled, keeping his stone cold glare as he carefully opened the bag and spread it large enough for their hands to fit through.

Sero and Kaminari gulped, clearing their throat before reluctantly taking the so-called cookie from the baggy. Ashido, Kirishima, and Jirou following soon after.

"Hey, babe, can you go get us some water over there?" Bakugou asked quietly, pointing to the water dispenser near the corner of his unnecessarily large office.

You happily obligated, nodding before shuffling over to the dispenser with your fluffy winter boots.

"One negative thing, 'n I'm slitting all of your goddamn throats."

"Yes, sir." Kaminari and Sero saluted foolishly as the rest froze, seemingly lost in thought as they stared at your cookie. wondering how in the world did it get that bad.

You quickly came back with both arms full of plastic cups filled with water. Bakugou was quick to set the cookies down on his desk and grab all the waters from your grasp.

When you smiled expectedly at them, they all glanced at each other before sighing and taking a reluctantly large bite.

"They're– They're um.." "They're awesome!" Kirishima finished for Kaminari, nudging his arm behind their bodies before gulping down his bite.

You happily squealed, jumping up and down before hugging your boyfriend at his neck.

And then, he smiled.

"Say a thing, and I'll kill you."

#ao3 #fanfic #my writing #bnha #anime #oneshot #bakugou x reader #mha #fluff #female y/n #sunshine reader #bakugou katsuki #aged up au #pro hero bakugo x reader #pro hero bakugou #grumpy bakugou

[prettyprettypaci2]

Drool - Part 5

💊 Part 1 💊 Part 2 💊 Part 3 💊 Part 4 💊

"There's no time for that now, honey! We have to get you to your first treatment session. Just go potty in your diaper for now; that's what it's there for."

Your eyes widen in panic. You're unable to stifle a pathetic moan of protest as you gesture frantically at the bathroom with one of your fat, pink mittens. The toilet is right there! Nurse Molly can't expect you to pee in a diaper on purpose!

"NNNNNNNNGH! Eenh oooohn uhn derrrnherrrrr!" You plead in the stupid language of your muzzling pacifier, which punctuates each drooling syllable with an embarrassing squirt onto your white cloth bib.

"Hmm?" Nurse Molly tightens her grip on your mittened wrist and practically drags you out of the bedroom. You stumble while trying to tug in the opposite direction, and your pink jelly sandal squeaks as you go tumbling to the poured linoleum floor of the clinic hallway. "Oh no, honey! You lost your balance again! Between your tinkles in the bed and how messy you got eating lunch, I'm worried that your tics are just the tip of the iceberg."

You snarl as you attempt to stand up, but it's difficult to gain purchase with the slippery mittens against the freshly waxed floor. With a girlish squeal, your arms slide forward before you collapse into a faceplant, your bobbing pink pacifier clicking against the cold ground. The sudden impact vibrates through your teeth, and you bite down hard on the silicone shaft to numb the intense pain.

"Owwwwwwwooowwwwwwwww!" You scream into the pacifier. The muscles around your eyes tighten, milking tears from the wet heat that flushes your grimacing face.

"Oh no! My little circus tumbler! Are you okay?" Nurse Molly stoops and rubs the back of your head as you try -- and fail -- to stop whimpering. You suck and smack your pacifier frantically, and the counter-stimulation soothes the pain in your mouth. Your usual reaction to any discomfort is to bite your lip or scratch your arm, but the thick, rubbery nipple has become the node through which you filter out all negative sensations. For a split-second between sniffles and sobs, you wonder if you even want to stop sucking the pacifier.

As the pain numbs, you become cognizant of your desperation to pee again. You move to make another attempt at standing, but a firm palm on your back keeps you from rising further than your knees.

"I think until the doctor can get her hands on you, we should be careful about overtaxing your motor control. Four limbs is sturdier than two! Why don't we crawl to the office like a puppy dog?"

Despite her use of the inclusive "we," it's clear that Nurse Molly intends for you to crawl while she walks behind. With one last longing look at the toilet, you shuffle forward pathetically on your mittened hands and wobbly knees, announcing your lumbering progress with a parade of crinkles from your fat diaper. Your white cloth bib hangs perpendicular to the floor, barely catching the occasional comet of drool that comes oozing from your nursing lips.

"There you go!" Nurse Molly coos, congratulating you for shuffling down the hallway as though you're accomplishing some feat of strength. "Left! Right! Left! Right! You're an expert!"

Your cheeks burn like hot lamps; you're absolutely humiliated to be seen in this state. But what else are you supposed to do? It's all apart of your treatment...isn't it?

At last, Nurse Molly stops you at the foot of an unassuming white door, gently setting the toe of her low-heeled shoe in front of your left mitten. The plaque below the frosted glass door pane reads:

AMELIA BERCEAU, M.D.

With a twist of the faux crystal knob, Nurse Molly pushes the door open. As mystified as you were by the décor of your bedroom, nothing could have prepared you for the bizarre spectacle of Dr. Amelia's office.

One corner of the room is dominated by what appears to be a mock kitchen; its full-sized stove, sink, and accessories are made of a chunky plastic with pastel colors. Though clearly not functional for actual cooking, the fake stove crackles with a tinny sound that emanates from a cartoonish teapot resting on one of its "burners."

A sandbox shaped like a smiling turtle lies in the shadow of a towering structure made of colorful foam blocks, deliberately cobbled together as a sort of play-fort. Against the opposite wall, a bookshelf gleams with the glossy spines of such titles as "Mr. Badger Makes a Friend" and "101 Animal Noises."

But most surprising of all is that there are people in this room. Two young women sit cross-legged on a carpet patterned to look like a twisting road through a bustling city. They're rolling small cars along its splashy, winding design in a bored stupor. One of the women has short black hair that hangs in her face, and she seems to be wearing some sort of braces on her legs. The other woman has long blonde hair, half of which is done up in a pigtail while the other half hangs loose, as though someone started styling it and then got distracted.

As the blonde looks up at the opening door, you see she's suckling a massive blue pacifier similar to your pink one, and that it's secured to her head with a length of white ribbon. Your eyes meet, and the pretty blonde drops her pink toy convertible to give you a gentle wave. Shivering with humiliation on your hands and knees, you feel the wet heat return to your face, tingle its way down your spine, and then concentrate in your groin. The sensation grows and grows until you realize it isn't just embarrassment at being seen like this...you've started flooding your diaper.

"Nnnnnnnnnnngggggggggggggh!" You wail, frozen in place as the hot ocean begins drowning your bum, seeking out every corner of thristy padding to nestle into. Your eyes are wet again as you feel the back of your diaper grow heavy with urine, strengthening the smothering hug of gravity on your quivering bottom.

Nurse Molly ignores your obvious discomfort as she scoots you into the room with a nudge of her heel. The blonde continues to eye you curiously as she suckles her pacifier, while her raven-haired companion simply returns to her childish game.

"Here you go, honey! Meet Daisy and Emma! They're here for treatment, too, just like you! I'll leave you three to get acquainted; it looks like Dr. Amelia is running a little late."

Still reeling from the experience of soaking your diaper, you barely notice the creaking of the door as Nurse Molly leaves the room. Unable to communicate through your pacifier, you're at a complete loss for what to do now.

The blonde, Daisy, reaches over and taps Emma on the shoulder. Emma looks up, only one eye visible through her heavy bangs, appearing to truly notice you for the first time.

"Oh. Hi," she shrugs, sounding neither rude nor enthusiastic. "You must be a biter, too, huh?"

You feel the dampness of your diaper acutely as you now hold both women's attention. With a cautious suckle, you nod your head up and down.

"Well, you won't be anymore," Emma smirks, picking up a plastic dump truck and using it to piston a smaller car several feet in your direction. "Whether you like it or not."

You look down at the little car and then back up at Emma, raising your eyebrow in confusion. Daisy twirls her pigtail nervously as she nurses her blue pacifier.

"Oh, you didn't know? I guess I didn't either, when I checked in," Emma sighs. The dark-haired woman crawls over to you to retrieve her toy, and you become aware of the distinct bulge and crinkle beneath her long shirt. Your eyes shift instinctively to Daisy, who shyly lifts the hem of her dress to confirm your suspicion. Both of these women are diapered!

Your heart begins beating like a hummingbird's wings, and your nervous slurping on your pacifier quickens to a drooly allegro. Emma picks up her toy car and leans in, half-smiling, inches from your face. You can smell baby powder on her skin like a sickly sweet perfume.

"Treatment never ends, pottypants. We're here forever."

💊 Part 6 💊

#diaper pee #diaper training #ab dl lifestyle #diaper sissy #ab dl diaper #diaper gal #diapered247 #diaper bulge #diaper dependent #ab dl mommy

[darkmuffinstudios]

Was bored and decided to create a silly little one-shot of Errormare for @inkywellcrow 🤭

Who knows, I might get more motivation to make more parts, I might not haha

Baking One-Shot (Errormare) (1.7k words)

Darkxsoulzyxcaliberx

Dream’s birthday (and by extension, Nightmare’s) was only a few days away, and the two most dastardly villains of the multiverse were in the middle of making something for it.

You see, after many decades of struggle, the two guardians grew weary of the constant back-and-forth and had since settled on a truce; No more bloodshed and no more overbearing war meetings. After so long, however, the two had long since forgotten times of peace. It was nothing more than echoes of what could have been, as well as what once was… So, as always in their relationship, Nightmare decided to be the first to extend one of many olive branches that will occur down the line.

To show a sign of good faith and to celebrate the occasion, Nightmare had his boys come up with gift ideas that they would give to his brother. The dark king had hoped that, whatever the gifts may be, that the action alone would show that he intended to support this truce and to keep friendly relations with his other half.

But asking a band of miscreants and murderers was a bad decision in hindsight, and so after many, MANY days of brainstorming, he eventually caved to Horror’s insistence on a birthday cake.

Which brings us to the present…

“Error, you’re whisking batter, not pummeling it into submission.” Nightmare scolded lightly. He wiped his hands on the apron he was wearing, trying not to get too irritated at how sloppy of a job his partner was doing.

“This is stupid.” Error grumbled.

“Error— slower, slower.”

“Don’t— !” His body locked up at Nightmare’s complaining, and he drastically slowed down his pace to a glaringly slow tempo. He gave Nightmare a frustrated look, to which the king easily brushed off. “Don’t tell me what to do. I read the recipe too.”

“Uh huh.” Nightmare deadpanned, setting a metal tray on the counter. “You're also as blind as a bat without your glasses, my dear.”

“They would have just got in the way.” Error huffed. After a few more mixes, he decided that surely was enough of that, and he dropped the bowl into the counter with a loud CLANK. “There. Done mixing.”

Nightmare rubbed his temples. What was that method of reducing stress? Counting back from five? Whatever it was, it surely wasn’t working as well as he had hoped. “Please don’t slam the bowl down.”

“Mmhm.” Error leaned against the counter, dismissive.

For his own mental (and Error’s physical) wellbeing, Nightmare opted to ignore him for a little while. Once he sprayed down the baking pan, he glanced over Error’s work. There was still some dry clumps of the batter mix floating around, but he wasn’t going to correct any of it since he knows how much his partner loves to throw his tantrums. Besides, Dream has been a pain in his ass for decades— the least he can do is crunch on some raw flour to save him from future headaches.

Carefully, he lifted the bowl and poured the mixture into the baking tin. Using a tentacle, he grabbed a spatula he set out beforehand to scrape any excess, and quietly put the bowl down. He gave Error a mild look.

Error met his gaze and paused, looking to either side of himself. “… What?”

“That’s how you put a bowl down. Silently.” Nightmare said, his voice dripping honey and tar.

“Oh, fuck you.” Error griped, rolling his eyes so over dramatically that his head went with it. Nightmare couldn’t help but smile at how stupid he could be.

After making his point, he walked over to the oven with the pan. After opening it with a tentacle (fashioned with a cute little baking mitten), he placed the pan inside and shut it with his hip. Making note of the time, he finally allowed himself to slump against the counter.

Nightmare looked up at the ceiling. How the hell does Horror do this every single day? Willingly?? He couldn’t even imagine how difficult it would be to order his men around such a small space, never mind how destructive all of them already are. Just the thought started to give him a headache…

“So,” Error started. “Why didn’t you ask your uh…” He thought for a moment, his body glitching a little from the effort.

“Horror?” Nightmare offered.

“Yeah— the big, freaky guy— to do this for you? Doesn’t he do this stuff already?”

Nightmare sighed. “… Well… Monster food is magic—”

“Uh. Yeah— I know.”

“I know that you know—“

“Then why say it—?”

Nightmare turned and glared at him. “Just let me talk!” Error held up his hands defensively, glaring right back at him for a moment, before Nightmare eventually continued.

“Well, because monster food is made of magic, then cooking monster food involves magic too. It incorporates the chef’s intent, and can communicate unspoken feelings through each bite.” Nightmare idly messed with one of the spoons on the counter, staring at the oven glass as he spoke. “To put it simply, it has to be made by me. I may not be the best at baking, but he will understand and appreciate the gesture anyways. He is that kind of guy, unfortunately.” He scoffed.

“So why drag me into this?” Error groused. “I couldn’t care less about making ‘Mr.Sunshine’ feel any better than he already feels.”

“Oh.” Nightmare turned to flash a smug look at Error. “Because I didn’t want to suffer alone.”

Error stared at Nightmare. For a long, long moment. A quiet, high-pitched sound began to come from Error’s body— the telltale sign that he was starting to crash. “You’re joking.”

Nightmare shrugged. “Am I?”

Error grabbed the whisk from the counter, chucking it with all his strength at Nightmare. “YOU ASS!! I COULD HAVE LEFT AT ANY TIME?!?”

The king chuckled, letting the whisk hit his shoulder. “Of course you could have. You weren’t obligated to do any of this.”

Error threw his arms around, already hellbent on destroying the kitchen. He ripped the toaster from its electrical socket, threatening to throw it on the ground when Nightmare continued. “But you stayed because you love me.”

That got Error to freeze in place. He stared at Nightmare, bewildered for a few seconds, before slowly lowering the toaster onto the counter. “… Whatever.” He mumbled, stewing.

Nightmare smiled at Error’s obvious admission of defeat, finding himself slowly walking over to him. He stopped a good few feet away, settling on leaning against the counter once more. “You love me, and wanted to help me because you loved me.” He teased lightly.

Error bristled. “I will leave!”

“But then I’d be so sad if you did.” Nightmare touched his own chest, right over where his apple soul would be. “All alone… abandoned…”

Error huffed, crossing his arms. “Good! Feel bad!! Feel bad for tormenting me for HOURS while I slaved away in this kitchen for you!!”

“It was only an hour, dear.” Nightmare chuckled.

“NUH UH!! You’re wrong!!” Error scowled, swinging an arm out to the side and ripping a portal open to a random, unsuspecting world. He gestured wildly to the setting sun. “See!! HOURS!! It’s already growing dark!!”

Nightmare rolled his eye. “Mmhm.” He knew he wasn’t winning this fight.

Error smiled triumphantly, leaning a little closer to Nightmare. The portal fizzled next to them, disappearing soon after. “Apologize.”

Nightmare raised a metaphorical eyebrow at Error. “For what?”

“For being mean and awful and terrible!” Error demanded, counting on his fingers as he went.

Nightmare rolled his eye for the second time. “Mmmmmmno. I don’t think I will.”

Error leaned back, pouting now. “Asshole.”

Nightmare sighed. A brief moment of silence grew between them as they waited for the cake to bake before Nightmare sighed again, shoulder sagging. He looked at the clock hanging on the far wall of the kitchen, then back at the oven glass. The cake wasn’t rising at all.

“… Do you think he will like it?”

Error didn’t look at Nightmare, arms still crossed. After another beat of silence, Error’s shoulders sagged a little and he quietly responded. “What do you mean.”

Another beat of silence. Error didn’t like it. He turned back to glance at Nightmare, only to see the other have his hands folded against his chest in a sort-of self hug. His tentacles were curled inward on themselves, and Nightmare hadn’t looked up once from the oven glass.

It bugged Error. He tried again, softer. “What... do you mean by that?” Nightmare sighed again, a third time, and it was starting to get to Error. He shook his head. “No one hates chocolate cake. If I find out he does, I’m throwing him.”

“Not the cake.” Nightmare answered quietly, though he did smile a little at Error’s threat. The spectacle of the destroyer of worlds tossing his brother like a football was amusing, to say the least. He gestured vaguely, trying to find the right words. “My… message.”

“Message?” Error echoed, clearly confused.

“My intent.” Nightmare tried instead. “It’s… I want this to go well. I want this to be our first steps in making up with one another, and I tried to put as much as I could into this cake… I tried to not fill it with…” he sighed, the fourth time. “… with my lingering feelings of the past.”

Nightmare raised a hand. “I’m certain I didn’t, and I know this won’t make up for everything that has happened between us… but…” He slowly brought his hand back towards himself, back to where it was wrapped around his chest. “I don’t know… I lack the proper words at the moment.”

Not that Error needed all of the words to understand. He thought a little bit before he spoke. “That’s why you asked me to help you with this.” The dots started connecting more in his head as he turned to Nightmare. “You didn’t want to do this alone.”

Nightmare considered Error’s words. “… I suppose I didn’t.”

Error stared at Nightmare, trying to get maybe just a little bit more out of him, before turning to look back at the oven. “… I think he’ll like it.”

“You think so?” Nightmare’s voice sounded uncertain.

“Yeah.” Error shrugged. “He is that kind of guy, like you said.”

Nightmare smiled a little. “I guess you’re right.”

#darkzyx #undertale au #undertale fandom #utmv #undertale multiverse #Undertale multiverse oneshot #utmv Drabble #sanscest #errormare #utmv nightmare #nightmare sans #error sans #utmv error #nighterror #they are so gay your honor #it’s been forever since I’ve last wrote stuff #I’m super rusty #not much beta reading #we die like men #I wrote this on my ipad so I’m hoping there aren’t too many mistakes

[sourpatchys]

My personal Shigaraki Tomura Headcannons that I will defend with my life

—

He’s actually pretty shy. He keeps to himself, he’s not going to tell you about his interests unless he trusts you with his life, he won’t even so much as share his favorite foods with you if he doesn’t know you well enough. Not because he’s afraid you’ll make fun of him for it— he just genuinely finds opening up to be embarrassing and prefers not too if he can help it.

He never lost his love for video games and he still thinks about strategies with a lot of the terms in mind. Being the leader of the league of villains and losing the original hide out made him pull the break on his hobby’s.

He likes to draw. He figured out at an early age that art doesn’t take all five fingers. It started as something silly he did when he didn’t feel like paying attention to kurogiri, and steadily over the years it’s become something he relies on to help with stress

He wears all black because he’s too lazy to figure out what looks good. He does care about his appearance, but not badly enough to go through multiple outfits.

He’s actually really self conscious of the scars on his face. He thinks they make him look weak, unkept and disgusting. If he could change anything about himself he’d get rid of them in an instant.

Due to his self conscious nature regarding his looks— he’s super on top of everything else. As a kid he was so worried about looking the way he does and smelling, that he actually had to be temporarily banned from using cologne and body spray because of how overwhelming it got for everyone around him.

He has insanely good handwriting. It’s actually really alarming to see for the first time.

His internal dictionary is also pretty well established. Shigaraki is not afraid to use big words, and he tends to use extremely well put together sentences, both verbally and otherwise.

AFO made sure shigaraki had a proper education, even going as far as to hire private tutors, which is why his vocabulary is so top of the line.

(Sometimes while speaking the league will stop him midway through and ask him to use ‘normal people’ words)

He does have manners— some might even say he has an annoying amount of manners. And he will get pissed off if people don’t follow his footsteps, especially if the situation calls for it.

That being said he has never— and will never— sit in a chair properly. His legs are all over the fucking place and that’s how he likes it.

Growing up he wore mittens to bed to stop from absolutely disintegrating his mattress because he’s a stomach sleeper.

He sleeps with his mouth open, he drools AND he snores.

Contrary to what you may think, he’s not going to be an angry spiteful boyfriend.

He takes everything to heart because he hates everything, that’s who he is and that’s what he does! But he doesn’t hate you. So he will learn to take things with a grain of salt when it comes to you.

He’s not going to be a confrontational type of guy with you, he knows it wouldn’t solve anything if he came in with guns blazing. He doesn’t want you to ever see him that angry as long as he can help it.

He’s not going to apologize if things go wrong on his end though— at least not vocally. Honestly he doesn’t even know how to apologize, so you’ll just get a gift or some tighter cuddles that night compared to usual.

He’s afraid of spiders. He thanks the universe every single day that there isn’t some weird ass mutated spider hero that he has to deal with.

His “rebellion phase” was just him trying to overcome his murderous thoughts. (It didn’t work)

This man loves loitering. It’s the stupidest crime there is and he genuinely cannot get enough of it.

It took him an embarrassingly long time to understand that not everyone had endless amounts of money. Growing up he could order or buy whatever he wanted, so he just assumed that’s how the world worked for everyone until his early teens

If he were to start developing feelings for you, he wouldn’t know what the hell was going on. “Love” and “attraction” are not emotions he’s familiar with.

He will absolutely test out his theory by building a life with you in the sims.

Shockingly enough he’s not opposed to having kids. It’s just not something he’d ever think about unless you were to bring it up.

He has a My Chemical Romance hoodie tucked into the very back of his closet.

He collects vinyl records

He doesn’t like animals but if he had to choose between a dog or a cat he’d choose a cat.

Yes— he does own a pair of pink fuzzy bunny slippers, your suspicions are correct. (They’re so comfortable but he’d never been caught dead wearing them)

As a kid he collected bottle caps, he still has one he carry’s around with him as a good luck charm

He constantly forgets to tell you where he’s going and how long he’ll be gone— and he’s never on his phone so don’t expect him to answer your texts or calls if you’re worried.

A Domesticated shigaraki is just like having an old man as a pet. He complains— is a little too good at playing chess— is always wearing some kind of pajamas and smells like aftershave

Has the largest sweet tooth you’ve ever encountered. This guy could eat an entire cake in a single sitting and not get nauseous.

He either won’t eat at all and then gets pissed because he’s hungry or he’ll eat too much and get pissed that he’s full

He keeps a small sketch book on him at all times and 80% of the pages are of you

He’ll eat anything once, including shit he finds on the floor

One of his front teeth is fake, the adult tooth literally just never grew in

He hates hero’s but sometimes in order to get ideas he reads old marvel comics

He’s a green goblin stan

He has a “shoot first ask questions later” mentality that no one can take away from him. He simply does not gaf what your reasons are

He’ll kill anyone regardless, but he goes a lot harder on people with outdated opinions

#shigaraki x you #tomura shigiraki x reader #shigaraki headcanons #shigaraki imagine #mha shigaraki #shigaraki x reader #shigaraki tomura #tomura shiragaki #mha #my hero academia #bnha #boku no hero academia

[1d1195]

My Friend's Toyota IV

Read the rest here: My Friend's Toyota

~6.2k words

Warnings: fluff, some angst, some 18+ escapades mentioned/described but nothing over the top, virgin reader/experienced H (semi-spoiler: you will not be reading about their first time in this one) I'm sure we all know I do 3rd POV typically, but I think this will also feel like it's rapidly switching between our characters within that lens, so just keep that in mind. Also I think this part is really... complex if you will. Think coming of age, trying to figure out life kind of stuff. It's not easy and I wrote it randomly in a way, because I don't think you can wrap all this stuff up in a neat little bow the way you expect to. There are curveballs in life and especially in sex. There are difficult conversations to be had and things that are hard to explain; this is just the way I chose to portray such a relationship. I kind of left this open-ended in a way that I could come back to it for follow-ups. I hope that doesn't detract from the story.

Sorry for the long note; here is the last part. Thank you for reading it. I hope you enjoy 💕

Harry wondered if he kissed her would his lips stick to hers.

He kind of hoped they would.

She’s not ready for the air to get colder / ‘Cause she’s so used to living on the beach down in Florida / Wanna take her to the mountains / We can take my friend’s Toyota / But the heat don’t work so when the air gets colder / I can hold ya

Harry was going to kill Mitch. When they stopped for gas, he texted him while she ran in to the station to grab some extra snacks. How come the heat isn’t working?

Whoops. I forgot about that...

Mitchell. She is FREEZING.

Sarah says it’s an excuse to snuggle.

Honestly, Harry had already thought of that. But he wanted her to be whole and warm when they made it to the cabin. It made him so anxious that he was ruining their weekend getaway before it barely started. But she returned chipper as ever, four cups of hot liquid in a little cardboard tray. He smirked, raising his eyebrows suspiciously at the copious number of drinks.

She smiled shyly. “It’ll be warm,” she shrugged.

He chuckled as she settled the drinks in the middle of the bench seat and made sure they wouldn’t spill while Harry drove. It was only another hour to the cabin. It was freezing. Truly, freezing didn’t even justify the cold temperature she was feeling. It felt like there was ice in the bottom of her shoes—she contemplated spilling one of the cups of hot chocolate she purchased into her boots just for warmth. “M’so sorry about the heat, kitten. I didn’t know.”

Despite her jaw silently chattering (she hid the sound of it from Harry by pulling her lower lip into her mouth ever so slightly) she smiled at him. “I’m fine,” she promised. Really, she was. It wasn’t like she was going to get hypothermia or anything, it was just cold. The hot liquid helped though, the cup warmed her gloved hands and melted her insides as she drank it. Harry also provided her with two warm, fuzzy blankets to snuggle under during the ride. It wasn’t too late—but winter up North anything past four PM was late. The sky was nearly black, only stars and stray wispy clouds. It didn’t help the chill in the cab of the truck. She packed an overnight bag of her regular belongings with clothes and toiletries, her backpack (because it was really hard for her to part from her schoolwork when school was in session), and plenty of jackets and sweatshirts. Harry packed about the same and all their bags were piled into the thin backseat of the cab of the truck as well. In the bed of the truck was an assortment of drinks and food items they might need as general basics when they got to the cabin. They would still need to go to the grocery store.

The prospect of playing house with her was very exciting.

Harry thought she was the cutest little ad for ski gear with a little knit headband around her ears and matching mittens. She was so pretty it made him feel dizzy. “Do you want some?” She asked, grabbing a second cup from the tray. He smiled, taking it with one hand and sipping it. He popped out the cupholder that resided within the dash and slid it in.

His mum always warned him that driving at dusk and dawn were the two hardest times to drive. Between the animals and other drivers struggling to see in the fading or growing light he wasn’t surprised.

Add in snow coming off the mountain? It was another added distraction.

But she had never seen snow. “Oh my God,” she whispered.

He smiled silently at her awed expression, keeping his eyes on the road, the wiper blades pushing the fluffy squall of flakes off the glass. She shifted in her seat edging closer to the dashboard, the seatbelt stretching to accommodate her closeness. “Is it always sparkly like that?” Her voice was reverent. Soft and warm despite how icy she must have felt. Harry was focused on not skidding on what could be an icy cold road. Maybe he should have waited until the morning to start driving but he wanted to milk every possible second of the weekend with her without interruption from anyone. A two-night, and two-and-a-half-day stay was hardly enough so he wasn’t going to lose that half a day for nothing.

“I’ve never noticed it sparkling,” he admitted. She used her teeth to pull her glove off before she reached for the windshield. With one finger on it, the heat from her finger creating a little halo of steam on the glass, her eyes scanned the fluttering snow as it fell in front of the headlights.

“It’s like glitter,” she murmured. “It’s so pretty; I don’t think I’ve ever seen something this pretty…can we stop?”

It was fortunate they were coming to a rest stop—Harry had only been to Mitch’s cabin a few times but when they travelled in from their hometown, it was a much longer journey, and the rest stop was always needed. Pulling off the highway, she got out of the car quickly. Harry followed suit, locking the vehicle and fell into step beside her. She was so bright-eyed. The chill in the air didn’t seem to bother her, although Harry was sure it had to because it almost bothered him.

There was a thin layer of snow coating the ground. If he had a measuring tape, it wouldn’t even read a millimeter. She stood still gazing upward, the fluffy flakes caught on her little headband, in her hair. They melted as they hit her face, making her cheeks spotted with a little drop of moisture.

But what had him falling further in love with her was the way they fell on her eyelashes and clung to them for a moment before turning into water again. Her cheeks pinked in the chilly air and Harry wondered if he kissed her would his lips stick to hers.

He kind of hoped they would.

Without warning, she hurried to the picnic table that was also covered in snow and laid across it, stretching her arms out and sighing deeply. “I know I’m always cold, but I do love it. It’s so much better than the heat,” she looked so gorgeous, Harry could hardly breathe. She turned her head and smiled at him. “You think I’m crazy,” she giggled.

He nodded. “I do,” he sounded so serious, but his smile was so enticing it made her stomach hurt.

“You know, this is where you would murder me,” she told him.

He snorted and shook his head at her. “Oh?”

“Yup. You kill me here, abandoned rest stop, closed for the season. No one finds me till spring. You have your nice long weekend alone.”

He rolled his eyes. “You think Allie wouldn’t hunt me down?”

“You stole my phone tell her I couldn’t be here anymore, too cold. Move back south.”

“Your parents?”

“They haven’t a clue,” she shrugged.

“No more podcasts, kitten.”

She turned her attention back to the sky, the falling flakes making her look like a literal snow angel, speckling her hair. “It’s beautiful,” her voice was so soft. Harry smiled and moved to lay beside her. She shifted, allowing space on the creaky table. He let one leg dangle off the side, propped up by the bench seat. He tried to see it the way she saw it. It had been so long since he had stopped and watched the snow fall. He knew it was beautiful. There were reasons people visited the mountains to ski and have romantic, chilly getaways. But he could hardly tear his eyes away from her to look at the beauty she saw that wasn’t her own reflection. “Do you even like snow?” She asked.

He nodded. “When I was younger,” he started. “I was the only boy,” he smiled fondly. “Mum and Gemma were adamant that I do what was proper and right. But it was more than that. I wanted t’be a gentleman t’them, y’know?” She didn’t obviously, not exactly, but she nodded. “I actually liked shoveling. Our neighbors paid me t’shovel their drives as well,” he explained. “It was so quiet. Y’can’t really tell right now,” he gestured toward the highway that had cars singing down the road to their destinations. “Snow absorbs the sound of everything else, traps it in the flakes and carries it t’the ground like s’tucking a kid into bed,” he shook his head with a smile. “S’the only way I can describe it. Felt like when Mum would carry me t’bed when I was sick,” he paused. “You must think I’m crazy,” he smiled.

She shook her head eagerly. “No,” she promised. “I mean, it’s a weird way to say no one will hear me scream when you murder me,” she shrugged and Harry laughed, rolling his eyes again. Seriousness came over her features again and she turned on her side to face him. “Tell me more,” she whispered. “It’s quiet,” she reminded him, encouraging him to continue his story. “You liked shoveling?”

He kissed the middle of her forehead and took a deep breath inhaling her perfume and the smell of her laundry detergent that mixed together to create this amazing scent that was entirely her. “My mum and Gemma did so much for me,” he explained. “I’d do anything for them. So...I like the snow a lot. S’peaceful.”

She looked back up and watched the flakes fall and land on Harry’s skin without any pattern. It made his skin dewey and somehow more beautiful. She brushed her glove thumb on his eyebrow, brushing the flakes that landed there before they froze. “It is peaceful.”

“We should go before we freeze.”

“Eager to kill me in private, I see.”

“There’s something wrong with you.”

“You picked me,” she giggled getting off the table and right as she stepped away, Harry grabbed her hand, pulled her back so she was between his legs, arms pressed to the front of his body and his arms circled around her waist.

“I’d pick you, again and again,” he promised before kissing her sweetly on the lips. Fortunately (or unfortunately, for Harry), their lips didn’t stick together.

Harry forgot how much warmth was produced to melt any hope of staying stuck to her.

*

“Can I do something?” She asked about ten minutes longer into the drive.

“Of course,” he chuckled.

She unbuckled herself, scooted to the middle seat, replacing her old spot with the warm drinks ensuring once more they wouldn’t spill while driving. She leaned toward him, her body snug against his side. His hand fell to her thigh wrapped in at least two layers and he still thought she wouldn’t have looked sexier in lingerie. Carefully, she draped her blankets across Harry’s lap as well. “This is much better,” she sighed.

Harry couldn’t have agreed more. He squeezed her thigh and kissed the top of her head without moving his gaze from the road. “Warm?” He asked.

She nodded. “Very.”

His heart was in his throat because the snow was getting a little heavier as he creeped further north to the little mountain town. Her sweet voice was going on and on about how pretty the snow was, what she was looking forward to this weekend, and how not even their upcoming finals had her in a bad mood.

It took every ounce of self-control to focus on the road and not her. When she started pointing at how fluffy the flakes were once more Harry cleared his throat. “Kitten,” his voice was soft. She could hear the warning tone. A frown graced her lips in his peripheral.

“Yeah?”

“I love your voice,” he began.

Looking away briefly she turned and nuzzled her face against his jacketed arm. “I’m talking too much, aren’t I?” She asked quietly.

“God, no,” he shook his head, it seemed horrible to face forward and not look at her while he reassured her. “I’d listen t’you for hours jus’ t’hear y’read the ingredients in m’shampoo,” he promised. “But you are the most precious cargo I’ve ever driven—”

Immediately, she turned her face toward his arm, still pressed to his side. Like she was embarrassed over the notion. “That’s the sweetest—”

“—and I want t’stare at you, and talk t’you about the snow, finals, everything, love. But I want t’get you to the cabin safely. Your sweet voice is so distracting. S’not your fault at all. S’mine. I jus’ want t’look at you.”

“I’ll be quieter,” she promised, but there was a smile in her voice as she murmured quietly into his arm again.

“You’re not mad, no?”

She shook her head. “Not at all. I’ve never driven in the snow. Forgot it might be scary. Even for a veteran driver like you,” she nosed at his arm again. She let all the air escape her in a long sigh. “I’ll let you focus,” her voice wasn’t as exuberant, but Harry glanced at her briefly to see a content smile on her face. Her eyes facing forward as she admired the snowy road. Relief coursed through him that she didn’t hate him for basically telling her to shut up. Quietly she hummed to the music playing through the speakers.

Harry was a believer in some kind of heaven beyond.

But driving along a cold snowy road, with the girl of his dreams on his arm, he stopped believing.

There was no way heaven could exist if she was right beside him.

*

The cabin was the stuff of dreams. It was secluded, but honestly not in the serial killer way she kept mocking Harry about. From the little perch of land, she could see down to the town nearby. Not quite rural but not urban either. It was perfect. They stopped at the grocery store on the way in and she caught sight of an old bookstore and a little boutique that she wanted to go to tomorrow.

“I honestly hadn’t considered killing you till now, kitten,” Harry was grumbling as they carried the groceries in first, then their other bags. When Harry glanced away very briefly to check nothing was left in their cart, she paid for the groceries with a tap of her debit card.

“I knew it,” she whispered to mostly herself with a smile.

“Supposed t’be treating you,” he continued grumbling.

“Harry, you treat me literally all the time. You worked so many extra shifts this week to make up for missing the weekend ones. Just let me,” she assured him putting the perishables in the fridge and freezer. He still felt guilty, and she could see his mind spinning with ways to make up for the “atrocity.”

“D’you want anything t’eat or drink?” He asked.

“How about the pizza?” She suggested. It was quick and easy and didn’t require a lot of thought to make. It would be easy for their first night here. “I got it,” she offered, and Harry went to set up the fireplace. While he worked on the fire, she meandered around the cabin. It was warm and cozy but also extremely open. Pictures of Mitch and Harry were strewn about table surfaces. Vacations from their school days. Other pictures of whom she assumed was the rest of Mitch’s family. Sarah was even in a few, too. The décor was perfect for a cabin. Like it had been crocheted a giant sweater to sit on the walls with a variety of little inspirational ski quotes like “skiing is the next best thing to having wings.” It was toasty without the fireplace going just because it was everything a mountain cabin should be.

The beautiful stone fireplace cracked now that Harry had fed it enough firewood. It was along the back wall set between windows that let the sunlight in each morning (she wasn’t positive on that, but assumed it was built so the bedrooms wouldn’t be in direct sunlight while waking up), and the coziest looking couches she had seen. They fit the room perfectly. All they needed was a sweet, chocolate labrador to play fetch with and this could be home.

She pulled the knit headband off her head, finally warming from the heat and the fireplace. Harry brought her a glass of wine. It felt like they were real adults on a trip. Harry almost immediately stripped of his outdoor gear when they arrived, but it took a while for her southern blood to warm. Eventually she slid her coat off. Harry hung it on the back of a chair while he found plates in the cabinet and finished with the remainder of the groceries: things for the bathroom that weren’t regularly stored in the little getaway. She was inspecting the bookshelf reading the back of covers that were old and well-loved. “Anything good?”

She smiled. “I think all books are good.”

He chuckled, grabbed their overnight bags by the front door and went off to another room. Her heart pounded with the realization they were on a trip together and it wasn’t just Harry’s suite like she had gotten used to over the last month and a half.

All week she had been nervous. Allie could tell it reached a breaking point on Thursday when she was packing. Harry was at work, unaware of her troubles. She knew she was being ridiculous. Harry had been nothing but kind since she met him. But when he brought their bags to the other room, all the anxiety she had squashed down came flooding back to her.

“Are you excited?” Allie’s voice was gentle when she asked while she finished zipping her bag. All she needed were the toiletries that she would pack once she used them in the morning.

“Yes,” she murmured.

“Oh, that’s assuring,” Allie hopped onto her bed and patted the seat beside her as if it were her room. “C’mon, sweetie,” she encouraged with a sweet smile. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

She shook her head, cheeks flaming, unable to put it into words because she felt so embarrassed. Even in front of someone who was very much her best friend. “It’s nothing.”

“I’ll tickle it out of you,” she warned.

“Oh my God,” she sat beside her and looked at her hands in her lap. It was extremely quiet in her room. “I’ve never had sex,” she mumbled.

“What?!” She gasped.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” she groaned. “I knew it was weird,” she covered her face with her hands.

“No, shit,” Allie put a comforting hand on her arm. “No, it’s not weird. It’s not anything,” she said reassuringly.

“Allie, Harry has definitely had sex, yes?” Allie was silent. “Right,” tears welled in her eyes. “It’s just this element of our relationship that’s so...” she shook her head. “Unequal.”

“Sweetie, Harry is not going to care about that at all.”

“I know, but I do,” she admitted, her voice cracking. “I feel so...lame. So immature. How is that possible?”

“I really don’t know because you are way more mature than I am, and it’s got nothing to do with sex.”

She ignored that comment because she knew it was supposed to help but everything felt awful. Her body was overheating with shame and awkwardness she had never felt before. “What if I’m bad at it?”

Allie snorted and patted her arm again. “Impossible.”

“Allie...” she whined, tears still filling her vision. “I...” she swallowed, took a deep breath. “I think I love him. If I’m not good at it... then... I’m just a waste of his time—”

Allie shook her head immediately. “Stop, stop, stop,” she hushed. “You are not a waste of time. If you and Harry stopped seeing each other tomorrow, I would expect him to write you a thank you note for being with him for the past few months.”

“You think I’m an idiot. A prude.”

“No, of course not! I’m surprised. You’re hot as fuck, babe,” she rolled her eyes. “You didn’t have anyone you wanted to...?” she trailed off with the question lending itself to the silence.

“No,” she shook her head. “You have to understand, my parents are so in love with each other. Sometimes it’s nauseating. It’s not like I didn’t want to just get it out of the way. I wish I did. I wish I just... God, it’s so lame sounding. I just think it’s supposed to be special. It’s an important part of a relationship, but I didn’t want it to be the only thing,” her voice cracked more times than she could count. The words came out in a sad whisper. But she left the story about studying for physics in her junior year that she had told Harry unsaid. Allie nodded understandingly.

“That’s not lame, sweetie,” she promised. “There’s no right or wrong to it. It just is.”

“I literally Googled how not to be bad in bed.”

Allie laughed despite herself. “Of course you would do research.”

“Al,” she whined again.

“I’m not trying to pry, sweetie... have you... done anything precursory with Harry?” She asked.

Her face warmed and she nodded. It wasn’t every night they slept together or anything, but Harry’s fingers and tongue were no stranger to her body. Her mouth honestly ached to have him in her just as much as her body seemed to ache recently for more than what they were currently doing.

Allie sighed. “Look, I said it before, I’ll say it again. If Harry tries anything shady with you, I will cut his dick off, no questions asked. Honestly, he would probably appreciate the gesture on your behalf,” she shrugged. When she didn’t hear a flicker of laughter she continued, gentler than the previous sentence. “Sweetie, I know you love him,” it was a little weird to hear her best friend say it without the word think or feel in it the way she had said it, thought it, and voiced it out loud. “But God, if he doesn’t love you too,” she promised. “It doesn’t have to happen. I know I was a little wary of him at first, but I can tell that Harry would do anything to make you happy,” she promised. “You probably wouldn’t need to have sex with him ever if you didn’t want to.”

“I think I want to.”

“Okay, well,” Allie turned, waiting for her to look at her. Gather all the attention with focused eye contact with the utmost seriousness she had ever seen on her free-spirited friend’s face. “Until that’s an ‘I know’ you’re not to do anything you don’t want to. Do you understand? I have a mind to tell Harry myself because you’re too kind to say it.”

“Oh, that’s a great idea Allie,” she grumbled sarcastically. “Tell my boyfriend I’m too scared to go away with him because I think I’ll be bad at sex?”

Allie didn’t even flinch and the preposterousness of it all. “I literally do not care,” she shrugged.

A beat of silence ensued. “I won’t,” she mumbled. It wasn’t like Allie was wrong in her line of thinking. It did sound like something she would do to appease Harry. “I won’t,” she repeated more for herself than for Allie.

When Harry returned from putting their bags away, she was still pretending to read the back of book covers while she reminisced about the conversation she had with Allie. “I think this is where Mitch’s mum puts all the books they no longer read, kind of thing,” he explained, entering the room, and pulling her from her thoughts.

She hoped her smile wasn’t awkward or uncomfortable looking. “Yeah, some old ones here,” she affirmed and brought one of the books and her glass of wine to the sofa, she settled both on the coffee table and looked at the fire again. “This is perfect, Harry,” she smiled. Her heart felt whole, despite all the anxiety she also felt. He sighed nearly with relief.

“Good,” he fell beside her and pressed a hand to the side of her face. “M’glad,” he kissed her forehead effectively turning her insides to liquid. “Pizza’s almost ready. Did y’want t’study for a bit before we... watch a movie or something?”

Her heart felt so much gratitude for him. “Really? On a Friday night? A weekend getaway?” She wondered.

“I mean... if y’don’t want to, then of course not. But I know y’well enough t’know y’kind of want to. Because y’don’t want t’fall behind—which I do think is impossible... but I know it’ll make y’feel better t’turn your brain off tomorrow and Sunday,” he shrugged with a smile that was so easy and lovely she really believed Sarah for a moment that he wouldn’t have sex if she asked.

But there was no way she was going to ruin a romantic weekend away. “I have Monday,” she said firmly.

“Are y’sure? I really don’t mind. M’behind myself, a bit because of the extra shifts,” he explained.

Her guilt flew out of her system. “Oh, okay, if you’re sure.”

He shook his head with a smirk. “Kitten,” he cooed. “M’not gonna be upset if y’want t’study...if it’ll help y’relax and—”

“I just really don’t want you to think I’m lame,” she hurried looking away as she interrupted him.

He frowned. “M’not being a very good boyfriend if y’think m’gonna say you’re lame for wanting t’do well and get good grades,” he tugged her backpack over the back of the couch and settled it in front of her. “I don’t know why y’think m’not going t’like y’suddenly,” he pouted.

She took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and bit her lip. “I know you like me because I’m me, but I’ve never had the best self-esteem and I know that’s not good in itself, but I do pride myself as a really hard worker. I want to do well and get good grades, but I know it’s not...” she sighed and put a hand on her forehead. “I’m not making sense,” the frustration evident in her voice.

“Kitten,” Harry’s voice was so gentle but in one word he sounded so encouraging as well. It was like magic. “I want you t’do whatever makes y’happiest; whatever makes you the most successful. M’supporting you fully. One hundred percent,” he shrugged, grabbing his own backpack and pulling out a folder of papers. “If that means we are studying for a bit, then I want t’study.”

She was lucky she didn’t shout that she loved him from the top of her lungs right then.

*

At some point, her worksheets were set aside. The pizza was gone, her wine glass and a second one drained. The fire crackled in the background while Harry kissed her so deeply, she felt it in every cell of her skin. Part of her wanted to run outside and lay in the snow just to cool off how warm she felt from having Harry’s hands all over her body, under her shirt, in her pants.

Harry’s hands slid just an inch lower. “Kitten,” he hummed. He wasn’t trying anything it was just the way his hands shifted. The memory of that afternoon. Studying for physics. It wasn’t the same, not even a little. She felt so safe with Harry and yet her brain wouldn’t turn off. The way he touched her the last few months felt different than the way he touched her then.

She ripped away from him, falling to the floor beside the couch. Before he could utter a syllable or help her back up to the sofa, she choked out a gasp of surprise. “I’m sorry!” she cried. “I can’t. I’m sorry. I just don’t think—” She had a hand on her chest and Harry thought she was hyperventilating. He felt so horrible.

“Kitten,” he cooed gently reaching for her. “I’m—”

“No! Please don’t apologize, it will just make me feel even worse!” She croaked and covered her face briefly pushing the tears to either side of her cheeks. “You didn’t do anything wrong. You have been so patient, so—” she swallowed. “I’m just so stupid and I feel so horrible. I want to, I want to so bad but I don’t—”

“Oh my God,” Harry whispered. His voice was filled with shock piecing together what she thought he was going to do or say. The poor, sweet thing. “Baby,” he reached for her again.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me!” She sobbed. “It’s so stupid—I’m so stupid!”

“Kitten,” he tried once more wishing she would stop insulting herself. It only made him feel more terrible. He couldn’t imagine how she felt. “My love, please stop,” he begged very gently and grabbed her arms as softly as possible but firmly, so she stopped moving.

“I’m sorry,” she sniffled. She was even beautiful when she cried. Harry couldn’t imagine his expression. It felt like a cross between a frown and sad smile. “I’m sorry,” she repeated.

“Please stop apologizing,” he brought his hands to her cheeks and pushed her tears away. “M’not mad or disappointed with anything,” he promised.

The silence was thundering loud. Eventually, when she uttered one syllable, her voice was so quiet he almost missed it. “No?”

It felt like she punched him right in the stomach. A single word question that broke his heart. “Of course not, kitten.”

She swallowed, swiped her tears away. “Oh,” she whispered. “Then... what—”

“I was going to tell you I love you,” he smiled at her. “A lot, really. ’Ve told y’before. ‘Ve never felt this way ‘bout someone the way I feel ‘bout you. I’ve been waiting for you for...” he shook his head. “Years. The second I bumped into you. I jus’ knew. M’so in love with you. It’s been very hard t’keep it t’myself all this time. M’sorry y’thought this weekend was something t’pressure you—kitten,” he stopped abruptly, looked her in the eyes and held her gaze so she would understand the sincerity of his next words. “We could never have sex a day in our life, and I would continue t’love you as much as I did the day I met you.”

Her jaw trembled like it did on the ride in that freezing truck parked outside. “You love me?” She whispered.

“Of course I do, kitten. What’s not to love?”

I made us have homework time on a weekend getaway, I don’t like drinking from red solo cups, I’ve never been drunk in my life, I haven’t had sex with you. But she kept all these thoughts to herself. “You really love me?” She repeated.

His smile was still sad, but he chuckled ever so lightly. “Yes, baby. I love you very much.”

“I love you too,” she whispered.

His face melted into a lazy smile. “Yeah?” He asked, completely awestruck. She nodded quickly, feeling at a loss for words. The fast beating of her heart made her woozy. “You’re sure? Not jus’ saying that because y’feel bad or... I know y’said you’ve never been in love before—”

“I’m very sure,” she promised. “I think I’ve loved you since you showed me where my class was,” she looked at him nervously. Like he would somehow take it back for how she fell in love so quickly after hardly knowing him. Instead, his already gentle gaze softened even more, and he kissed her softly, his lips brushing so gently against hers. It made her mouth tingle with wanting more but she wasn’t sure she could breathe properly to tell him that. They had kissed a lot in those three months but somehow this one made her unsure—as if he suddenly made her forget how to kiss. When he pulled away, she felt an ache in her chest like she wasn’t close enough to Harry. “Again,” she whispered. He smiled and slotted his mouth back between hers kissing her, almost harder, deeper. He pulled away carefully, cupping the back of her neck. “Again,” her voice was sure, but she looked flushed, nervous.

“Kitten,” he whispered, his face a little disapproving.

“I want to,” she promised.

“Kitten,” he repeated, stronger this time. Allie had texted him the previous night and all it said was Delete this after reading: you BETTER be good to her, or I will rip your throat out without an ounce of remorse. At the time he had wondered what prompted such an aggressive message. Things with Allie had been good. He felt he had her trust after all she knew about his past relationships. Maybe that was why she felt so at ease to send him the threat. In a way he was kind of grateful for it. Like a final note that she accepted him.

Of course, Allie.

Have a great weekend 😇

He laughed at the time, the duality of her best friend’s messages. But the previous one was gone, deleted and part of him wished he could show someone (not that he would) only because it made him smile.

All of it made sense now and he was not smiling. She shook her head, shame filling her entire body and promptly appearing all over her features. “I promise, I’ll stop if I don’t want to,” she swore. “Do you not want to?”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” he whispered so softly she barely noticed the curse in his phrase—like he had whispered I love you again. “Of course I want you, kitten,” he promised. “But we don’t have to. M’happy t’do whatever y’want for the rest of our lives,” he vowed. “Y’told me y’wanted a relationship. I told you I waited a really long time for you,” he reminded her. “M’not worried about any progression in our relationship except making sure you’re comfortable,” he promised. “You,” he held her face between his hands. Like she was made of something rarer and more fragile than glass. It made her stomach flip, her heart hammered in her chest, and she felt so adored in that moment, it felt indescribable. “You are perfect,” he murmured. “Completely. Just want t’keep y’warm,” he smiled.

There were a hundred reasons she didn’t feel good enough for Harry. But he was warm and safe. Regardless of what anyone had to say about him. “Harry?” She asked.

“Yes, kitten?”

“Have you ever... brought anyone here?”

“Only when I drive Mitch and Sarah.”

“So this is a first?” Her voice was stronger.

Harry felt his face contort into a smile of total admiration for her. “Yes. S’a first, love.”

“Okay.”

“Okay what, kitten?”

She shook her head. “Nothing, just... thinking about how much I love you,” she promised. “It’s a lot,” she admitted. “Kind of weird I’ve dreamed and dreamed about love and after so many years without it while all my friends fell in love... It’s...freeing.”

Harry sighed, wishing he could fully articulate how much adoration he had for her. “M’never letting you go,” he murmured, kissed her, and kissed her, and kissed her,

And kissed her,

And kissed her.

*

She was wrong about the sun. It was warm in the chilly bedroom. They were dressed again, but her body was entwined with Harry’s closely. It wasn’t normal to sleep like this, but she wanted to be close. Probably closer than she was with the clothes in the way. But a winter cabin, even with heat and a fireplace, was simply too chilly.

Plus, the sun streaming through the windows seemed to be magnified, warming the bed and sheets that Harry had the pair of them snuggled under. His finger drew imaginary lines up and down her back over her shirt. He kissed her forehead and sighed. “Good morning, love,” he murmured against her hairline. “Want some French toast?” He asked. She nodded. “Y’feel okay?” He wondered. She nodded again. “Tired?”  A third nod, but a more decided one. He kissed the top of her head again. “Y’want t’stay here?” She shook her head this time.

“No m’awake.”

“Y’sound awake,” he teased.

She sighed and rolled onto her back creating a rift of coolness to spread over him. He frowned, wishing he hadn’t teased her at all as this wasn’t preferable at all. “Do we have plans for today?”

He shrugged. “Had some ideas. But no. We can do nothing all weekend if y’want,” he promised.

Turning back to him, her smile was lazy, warm, and beautiful. “We better get started then.”

“Oh?” He smirked.

“Mmm,” she flung the covers back and reached back for him with an outstretched hand.

“Hey, kitten?”

“Yes’m?”

“I love you.”

Her shy grin was enough to make him thaw in the chilly cabin. His heart leapt to his throat while he watched her drop the outstretched hand. Instead, she crawled back across the bed so she could kiss him sweetly. “I love you, too,” she whispered. Finally, they meandered out of bed and she gazed out the window over the coating of freshly fallen snow. Not quite thick as a blanket, but beautifully undisturbed in the same way. “Do you think I’ll need a thicker coat while we’re out?” She asked looking at the battle of the clouds hiding the sun now and again. Harry walked up behind her after fixing up the fireplace for the morning.

He pecked her cheek, thinking about how she told him he had never been in love before. He wondered if he had ever been in love before her. “If y’don’t, I’ll keep y’warm.”

--

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[scarlovebot]

DIRTY HANDS

Natasha romanoff x female reader

Summary: Natasha is taken back by your dominant attitude

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧

as the moonlight travels, a welcoming soft glow shimmers through the slight ajar curtains.

Beams of light pour into the almost silent bedroom, painting golden waterfalls across your Pictionary walls.

As the sunlight beams into your dazed eyes, squinting in satisfaction as the day has begun. With a slight groan escaping your lips, you unlace your hands turning swiftly to face the person who made everyday worth it.

you gaze upon the sleeping women in front of you, setting yourself the task of analysing every inch of her beauty.

the way her messy red hair framed her sharp jawline perfectly, making you melt right there and then.

Running your fingertips over the sight on display, tangling each finger into her locks, the softness reminding you of her tenderness.

her rough and bruised lips telling a thousand stories, some of which your yet to have heard. The assassin snored softly, whimpers eluded only leaving your mind to wonder, what she was dreaming about.

Natasha was a women who knew of her power, making those in her presence scramble to leave as quickly as possible.

But not you

Within the first couple encounters between the two of you, it’s was undeniable that the widow was meant to come into your life.

deep down inside, under all those battered layers you could see just how much she wanted to be loved. And in that moment you made a vow to be her constant, conveying the intimacy she craved and adoration all the time.

falling out of your daze, meeting with glistening emerald eyes which could easily be lost in.

Your hands found warmth, caressing her rosy cheeks then moving upwards to wipe away the sleep which littered around her sparkling globes.

the women hummed in a low tone, her voice still croaky from slumber

“are those hands cleans детка?” she questions with a risen eyebrow

Great, our soft moment was ruined with her dirty thoughts.

Your mouth agape

“Seriously Natasha, you’re worried about the cleanliness of my hands when you know exactly where they have been” proceeding to roll your eyes in fake annoyance.

The women had no right to make such a comment, she’s the one who’s draped over the bed in little to no clothing. At least you had the decency to cover up, even if it was a pair of Natasha’s underwear.

Although you knew she didn’t mean to be snarky, you decided to have your fun.

Using your dirty hands to roll over and push away from Natasha, finding a seat on the edge of the bed, only to leave her eyes staring at your naked back.

With a huff and puff, you placed both hands either side of the soft cotton sheets, in line with your hips with the intention of leaving the bed to further on the day.

before even testing out your leg strength you were violently pulled back down, your head nestling into Natasha’s torso.

A loud squeal escaped, followed by childlike giggles

you really couldn’t hold it together for 5 minutes.

“I’m sorry, I love your filthy hands” she spoke

Biting your lip, you question “is that so? Then why don’t you get your hands this filthy?” pointing at the women’s bare chest emphasising the fact that your always the one to end up with the dirty mittens.

Natasha’s eyes widen with torment, she secretly loved it when you’d become dominant. Even if it was for a short moment of time.

Her soft hands trail around your chest, she took this time to think about the situation: was it really her turn to quite literally get on her hands and knees at your beg and call?

At this point you felt pleasure with her softest movements, you liked to treat Natasha as a princess so realistically, you don’t mind doing what she wants.

The women decided with an answer, moved with quick intentions.

grasping your muscular shoulders and pinning you underneath her in one motion.

She was a women of many talents

“тигр, I assure you that my hands will need a thorough wash after this…”

The remaining hours of your day were left locked away in the bedroom, and from that point onwards Natasha vowed to always clean her hands.

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff fanfic #natasha x y/n #natasha x you #natasha romanoff #natasha x reader #marvel #black widow

[romanoffsbish]

Shelter me From the Storm

Actress!Natasha Romanoff x F!R

Stripped Bare (Part 1) / Two people asked for this and I already had the ideas so boom. 😂

Warnings: Loss of Parent / Grief. Post-Partum Depression (Not mentioned, but heavily implied—hygiene/eating struggles, struggle to bond/help). Media (Implied lack of respect for Sex Work).

Smut: Soft | Daddy (N) | Nat has a penis | Oral (Both) | Fingering | Overstimulation | Squirting | Unprotected / Breeding | Cockwarming (Plugging)

18+ | Minors DNI | Please Don’t Report, it’s labeled properly.

"Whatcha thinking about?" Natasha's raspy voice startled you, but it also soothed your aching soul. It'd been exactly two months since the two of you moved to Oregon to officially start your life together. "My mom, us, them."

The redhead nodded solemnly, worried eyes casted down onto your fidgeting hands. She settled down beside you on the porch swing, and took your freezing hands between hers. Gently as ever she kissed, and breathed onto them until she deemed them warm enough.

"You couldn't have worn mittens?" She teased, then her strong arms wrapped around your body so she could pull you into her lap. Her forehead leaned against yours as she tried her best to comfort you. It was you who broke the distance and pressed your lips to hers for a kiss that reminded you that you were really there.

——

You were still alive, even if your mom wasn't. The thought broke you, this idea that Apollo and Luna would grow up without her love.

"I miss her," you sniffled, and the redhead sighed empathetically, "Me too moya lyubov'."

A smile graced your face at the memories of Nat with your mom. They'd only known one another for a little over a year, but your wife stole your mother's heart instantly. The sick woman never missed a chance to talk to her, even if it involved interrupting your convos.

They had a pure love of you in common, so it was easy for them to spend hours talking. It warmed your heart, but also infuriated you to no end when your mom shared your secrets.

Natasha never needed to know about your failed prom, or about how you believed in Santa and his friends until sophomore year.

The redhead loved to tease you about it, even now, "Who else will tell me all your secrets?"

"Thank fuck that's over," you sadly joked, because embarrassing as it was, you'd let your mother release all of your most embarrassing moments in life if it meant she was still here.

"Ooh, What about Cole?"

You snorted, "Not if he wants to stay alive."

"You're no fun."

Silence soon fell over the both of you as you watched the rain harshly pelting down. The pavement, and dirt saturated in no time as mother nature wept, you weren't sure of her reason, but you liked to think it was for your mom. She loved the rain, it never presented as an inconvenience to her like it did for others, you remember chasing the rainbows with her.

Losing her was polarizing really. It was always coming, but you were never prepared for it.

All that really brought you comfort since she passed, was that she met your daughter first.

Luna Romanoff, the little girl with your wife's cheeky smile, and your mothers love for music.

At only ten months old she was a little rockstar. The xylophone was her go to instrument, it made you feel like your mom's name as her middle prophesied their clear connection. They had met, then five hours later your mom died.

Natasha took care of everything after, she still does some days when you can't manage. You usually feel bad, but every time she senses it, and reminds you that there's nothing else she'd rather be doing than caring for her family.

"I'm going to miss you too," you finally broke it, voice cracking as your emotions got the best of you. "I wish you didn't have to leave at all."

"Me neither," Nat replied in the same tone, a tear slipped down her face as she stewed over her departure this evening. Leaving you in such a vulnerable state wasn't easy, but she hadn't a choice as she had to do a slurry of interviews for her upcoming film, as well as clear the air on her sudden disappearance from Hollywood.

It was the only way the execs would let her off the hook for the premiere. The buzz from her interviews will give them enough scandalous PR. Especially when she announces this will be her last film for a long while. The seats will fill.

She'd pleaded for zoom interviews, but even being as big as she was, they wouldn't budge.

"I wouldn't go if I had a choice," she reminded you for the umpteenth time. "I know Natty."

"It just sucks," she voiced your thoughts.

You chuckled humorlessly, "Majorly."

The sudden sound of a cry through the baby monitor brought you and your wife out of your bubble of intermixed grievances, and right into the house where you found a shocked Apollo hovering over Luna's traveling bassinet.

Five minutes ago they were peacefully napping, one in a heap of blankets and toys, while the other was cozy in her bed. It was safest not to move your son, he'd have woken up lively.

Where he lays, he stays—a household motto.

The scene was clear as day, he'd climbed up onto the couch with a devious curiosity, and now it appears the young boy had slapped her.

Natasha swiftly moved to the side of the couch, stopping your son from repeating the offense with a gentle catch of his hand. With ease she scooped the boy onto her hip, then she lovingly reached down to smooth a hand over your daughters face. Her cries stopped instantly.

After your daughter was soothed you watched quietly as Natasha handled your son. Her look was stern, but her eyes were still adoringly soft. There was no true harm done, it was clear Luna was mostly just shocked, not genuinely hurt.

Plus, he's only two, this was like a canon event.

"Apo," she called his attention to her with the nickname derived from his inability to say his. "You have to be gentle," she softly reminded him, using her hand to mimic proper touch as she continued to brush her hand over your daughters face until she was sleeping again.

Apollo butchered the word as he repeated it, but he mimicked her perfectly. Tiny hands covered in god knows what reached out to cup her face, something he'd seen done before. Both of your hearts beamed at the boy for his slow, but steady understanding. This would probably happen again, from both ends, but you knew that it would be an easy resolution.

Natasha's gentle approach to the kids was a surprising discovery you'd made. Not that you expected her to be downright cruel, but you just expected more sternness from your former experiences. But then you remember the Natty that you'd loved was always there back then too, and then it all makes sense. The first time you witnessed it was when your infant son was playing with an extension cord. You wanted to run over and rip it from his hands, but she'd stopped you with a hand on your shoulder.

Instead she walked over to him, created some static electricity with her hands then tapped his. It seemed almost cruel, but then she picked him up as he wailed, then that soon faded into hiccups and it all became clearer to you.

He'd wanted her attention all along, and she taught him a valuable lesson in the process.

The gentleness came right after, when she held him close while she hummed a Russian lullaby to soothe him. All the while pointing to the enticing cord and saying a simple, firm no-no.

You remember watching them fondly, with a smile on your face, a hand on your bump, and a subtle sense of relief that'd washed over you.

No matter what came, you knew you'd all be safe with Natasha. Parenting was a learning curve, without your mom to guide you you've lost it, but you felt like she'd had it mastered.

That's why after the night slowly crept in you anticipated the arrival of your little brother. He's flying in from New York, and should be to your house by 8:30pm, and Nat has to be gone by 9pm, or she knows she'll never make it.

Apollo had already gone down for the night, but Luna Bear was still a live wire. Bouncing on her mama's hip while haphazardly shaking her head side to side in a tiring game of 'no-no'

"Wow, you've gotten so big Lunar Eclipse," your brother greeted the giggling baby, who turned to him with a wide, curious smile. Natasha sent him one as well at the relief she felt since she no longer had to shake her head.

"Luna," you corrected with a fixed glare. "I've been meaning to ask you about that sis."

"Cole," you warned through gritted teeth, and for the first time Natasha had realized the help she planned might actually be the bother.

"Why would you name your kids like animals?"

Natasha glared at your brother just the same, coddling the baby into her chest with a hand over her ear to shield her from hearing him

"You're the most annoying person on Earth," you deadpanned, he gasped in offense. "Give me the cat, and say your sappy goodbyes."

Natasha's arms around your waist stopped you from chasing your cackling brother down as he took your giggling daughter into the house.

"Don't leave me with him," you pleaded. "I won't look good in an orange jumpsuit Nat."

Natasha snorted softly, "You're so dramatic." Then she leaned in to kiss you slowly, a bunch of unspoken words being exchanged: 'I'm only a call away,' 'Don't kill your brother, please,' and 'Seriously, call me if you need me,' but the most important of messages came tumbling from your very own parted lips, "I love you."

Natasha smiled against you, she instantly repeated the sentiment, "I love you too Y/N. With all of me. You'll be okay detka. Promise."

The driver honked impatiently, and you fought off the urge to flip them off. Natasha rolled her eyes as she saw the petty conflict behind yours. "I'll be back in three sleeps sweetheart, you take care of yourself while I'm gone please."

Natasha sighed as she saw you bite your lip, a nervous habit of yours she'd become familiar with. You never wanted to disappoint Natasha, but you felt like you always were when you couldn't even manage the mundane tasks.

"It's hard, I know it is," she sympathized with your newfound wave of inability. "But eat, drink water, and sleep whenever possible."

"I'll try," you whisper against her chest as she hugs you close for a final moment. "That's all I ask moya lyubov, you deserve to be nourished."

"Three days," you whispered, your eyes shut tight as you reeled in your emotions. You could break down when she made it onto the road.

"Then there'll be no more leaving, we got this."

"Safe travels Natty." You kissed her cheek, then made the move to slip from her grasp, knowing all too well that she wouldn't willingly let go.

As you entered the house she watched, making her driver more irritated but she didn't care. His paycheck was signed by her, therefore his patience was paid for. She watched closely and nearly broke down when she saw a little Luna crying as her hands slammed into the window.

It was strange, how the ten month old could understand the implications of her mother in the car, and it hurt the woman's aching soul.

Once you locked the door, and scooped your daughter up she told released a breath and told the driver he could take off as she sent off a worried text to Cole, begging him to keep an eye on you like he promised her he would.

Then she sat back and began to count down the milliseconds until she could return to you.

—

The following morning came with a wake up Facetime call, your wife waited until it was 9am your time, then spent hours virtually cuddling. Around 12pm she bid you farewell, as it was 3pm in New York, her interview was for 6pm, but with makeup and wardrobe it was time.

It was live, so at 3pm you'd ensured the babies were already down for a nap, and settled onto the couch in some clean pajamas with your emotional support water bottle, and chips.

Natasha looked beautiful as she crossed the stage, with practiced elegance she flashed her award winning smile, and you swooned. It felt like it was directed at you, and with it being your Natasha you realized it probably was.

They discussed the movie, it was a smooth interview, until the hot topic, you, came up.

"So, tell me Natasha, who's the mystery girl?"

Natasha instantly grimaced, but quickly shook the expression for one of happiness. "My wife."

"Wife, huh?" He chuckled nervously, you both saw a question on his mind designed to send you spiraling. "Fans across the globe really thought you'd end up with Wanda Maximoff."

Natasha breathed harshly through her nose, it took all of her patience to remain composed.

"Wanda is nothing more than a lifelong friend." Natasha cooly replied. "Who's happily engaged, need I remind you, to The Vision Stark."

"Hindsight is 20/20," he jested awkwardly.

"Mhm," Natasha hummed, not even humoring the man with a response as she watched him fumble through his note cards for more. She smiled, it was perceivably smug, and made you feel something you'd yet to in almost a year.

He took a steadying breath before his face relaxed, then he continued his futile attack.

"I have it on good authority that your wife, Y/N Y/L/N." Natasha cut him off, "Romanoff."

"Sorry," he replied annoyedly, "We've been informed that Y/N Romanoff was a stripper."

Natasha nods thoughtfully. "Is there a question there, or are we just stating useless facts. If so, I'd like to inform you your tie is on wrong."

Your eyes widened, in all your years of knowing of Natasha, you'd never seen her so snarky. It was really hot, and you truly couldn't deny it.

"I guess, if it wasn't obvious," he starts shakily, as if he feared the 5'3 redheaded woman. "The world is wondering if that's how you met."

"Well, the honest answer is yes." The audience gasped, she rolled her eyes behind her lids knowing they were likely prompted to do that for shock value alone. "I know right? How shocking that rich people still go to strip clubs."

Her eyes then narrowed onto the nervous host. "As if you yourself aren't a regular Johnny."

"Jimmy," he timidly corrected and she laughed. Boy did she laugh, it was mocking, and had the man sweating through his shirt. "My apologies, so tell me Jimbo, does your wife know what happens during the actual late nights? We both know this show is mislabeled. It ends by 7pm, but your life is only just beginning then right?"

The raven haired man gulped, it was clear Nat was prepared for his intrusive questioning. You caught sight of Natasha's sideways smirk just as the show cut to a commercial, and when it returned your wife was no longer there. Cole snickered from beside you, "Mom would have loved to see this, God, I adore your wife Y/N."

You hummed your agreement, then left him to tend to the crying babies while you answered your wife's phone call. She was panicking, but you reassured her that it'll be okay. That her die hard fans wouldn't leave, and that with the progressive nature of Hollywood that she'd likely receive accolades for her honesty, and her overall support of the sex work industry.

Even if you both knew it wasn't a guarantee, Natasha couldn't help but to believe you. In the end, if this is where her career ended she didn't mind. She had more than enough money to retire, and she still would have her business.

Natasha ended the call after you'd calmed her as she had more interviews to prepare for.

It felt fulfilling being there for her, helping her through a freak out for once instead of it being the other way around. You knew it wasn't a competition, but it's hard to think otherwise when it's always you on the visibly weaker end.

There was a renewed confidence in your step now, and it showed when you fixed lunch for the whole house instead of letting Cole. You'd ushered him off to play with the kids, and got comfy with the concepts of cooking again.

—

When the next day came you got to hear from Nat sporadically. She told you all about her day, the highlight apparently came when she got to answer fan's questions while playing with cats. You rolled your eyes, knowing now that she'd be insufferable until you finally said yes to her taking in the stray kittens that lived amongst Wanda's garden. The brunette wanted to take them to a shelter a week ago, but Nat told her she'd win you over soon enough.

She begged again before she got off the call, and she was right, because that evening you sent her a picture before she went to sleep of a relieved Wanda on your doorstep with a box.

Natasha called you on the verge of tears, she'd only hung up the phone an hour ago so she could take a shower and get ready for bed. It was only 4pm for you, and 7pm for her, but she had an early morning interview before she was then meant to catch an afternoon flight home.

So, after she thanked you profusely, she settled down in her bed, and you on the couch as you pulled up her most recent interview done with Clint Barton. An actor turned talk show host.

He was also her very best friend, so of course she gave him the tell all story others wanted.

"So Natasha," Clint started with a teasing smirk. "Mhm?" She hummed playfully, her eyes softly rolled as a smirk overtook her face.

"When do I get to meet my niece and nephew?"

"Whenever you catch a flight out to Oregon."

"That's right," he bounces off her seamlessly, "You made the bold move to the Beaver state, what is in Oregon that's not in LA or NYC?"

"Peace," she answered simply. "It's gorgeous, and it's where my love wanted to end up."

Clint smiled, it was incredibly genuine as he admired the lovesick one your wife wore. The man has yet to meet you, but he plans to hug you tightly in silent thanks for changing her life for the better and making her this happy. He's watched her through every phase, the partying, all the meaningless hooking up, to the present.

Where she is outwardly softer, but as expected she is still guarded where she needed to be.

"Your love," he acknowledges, a slight tease to his tone as he met her eyes again. "Why don't you tell me all about who's taking you from us."

Natasha glared at him, but it was a playful way, that she agreed to, to ease her into her purpose for this interview. "You know Clint, I've been acting ever since I was a kid," she thoughtfully began, "It's all I've ever known honestly. It's been my greatest passion for three decades."

She took in a steadying breath, then sighed while wearing a shy smile, "It wasn't until I met her that I envisioned more for myself," her cheeks reddened at the thought of exposing herself in such a vulnerable way to the world.

Acting, telling others stories, was what she did best, but it felt foreign to tell her own like this.

With her eyes closed she imagined your smile, then she heard the memory of your kids giggles and suddenly it was the easiest decision. "Y/N is my light at the end of the tunnel, truthfully."

Clint nodded proudly, leaning back in his seat to metaphorically open the floor up to her.

"I know the world is already freaking out, some angry that I'm off the market, others mad that she's a former stripper, but I don't know why any of that matters to them." Natasha frowned as she tried not to cry. "People are saying my career will end with this, and to those people I say good fucking riddance. I've given almost every last piece of me to this industry, and if me finally choosing my happiness is a problem then I'll let it be for only them. I'm happier than I've ever been, and that is my truth."

"So, you're leaving Hollywood behind?" He asked for clarity, and she shook her head in a partial negation. "I have decided to take a step back, this upcoming film is going to be my final for an indefinite amount of time. I want to focus on my family, and I deserve a break."

"That you do Natasha," Clint acknowledged, behind him on a screen a slideshow of all of her hit movies began to appear. Emphasizing the focus of conversation. "If you retired today I'd say that you've left your mark on the world, even more so with those beautiful babies."

"They are my entire world." Natasha clarified, they were her legacy, sure, but they were so much more than that too. They were a perfect mixture of you both. Apollo with her distinctive eyes, and your sweet smile. Then Luna with her smile, and dimples and your huffy temper.

Both with their own blooming personalities.

The redhead smiled brightly when a photo then flickered on the screen of your little family. The four of you were sat on a park bench, Apollo stood on her lap with his hand pointing to something behind her, she had smiled at the camera, but her eyes focus was torn between him and the phone. Then sat beside her was you, with a blanket over your chest, shielding the hungry baby from the harsh Fall winds.

It was meant to be a cute family photo, and it still was, but far more dysfunctional than intended. Natasha had tried to get Apollo to turn around, but he wouldn't take his eyes off of the firetruck in the back. Then Luna cried, and it was clearly hunger so you let her latch on, and even then it could've been cute, but then she grunted angrily so you covered her.

"You guys look happy," Clint acknowledged, and the woman smiled fondly. "We are."

"Well, I hope that in a few years time we'll be able to see you back on the screen," Clint moves to wrap up the segment. "But if we don't, then I'd like to dedicate a moment of silence to the greatest loss in the industry."

"Oh stop it," she joked tearily, leaning forward to playfully shove his shoulder. Clint winked at the emotional redhead, then he yanked her up and into a bear hug. "Tell Y/N I look forward to meeting her," he whispered, then he planted a kiss on her cheek, and she left the stage with a chorus of loud applause following her.

You turned the TV off, then wiped at the few tears that she'd elicited from you. Seeing her so vulnerable on TV, all in an attempt to make the media go easier on you, was overwhelming. It made your heart swell with more love than before and you couldn't quiet grasp how you could even love her more than you already did.

It also made you want her more than you did yesterday. No longer was it a feeling you could ignore, but instead a deep seeded need you'd had every intention of satiating upon your wife's return. Which is why you rebooked your brothers flight home, and reminded him about that one time you covered for him when he rear ended your evil neighbor Mildred's parked car.

—

The last thing Natasha expected to find as she entered your house late at night was you. But on the couch you sat, with a glass of red wine, and in a matter of seconds you were on her.

"Moya lyubov' I said drink water," she groaned, but it was a humored one. You looked up at her with wide eyes, then you smiled innocently. "Would you believe me if I said that Jesus showed up and magicked it himself?"

"Oh, is that so?" She cackled in a hushed way, you nodded vehemently. "Scouts honor Natty!"

"Mhm?" She teasingly hummed, the vibrato felt as she pressed her lips to yours, and you gasped affectedly. Natasha tried to pull back, feeling guilty for looking like she was trying to initiate anything, but then she felt guilty for feeling guilty because of course she wants you.

"No," you whimpered and clung to her biceps. "Daddy please, I-I'm ready." You were wet, desperation was controlling your mind now.

"You're drunk detka," she pointed out, but you showed her the bottle, proving that you'd only poured the one glass and hadn't had more than two sips. Which was only for liquid courage.

"What's changed for you?" Natasha pulled you down into her lap, you whined in frustration, but then you saw the glossy viridescent orbs full of concern waiting for your reply.

"Seeing you lose your cool on TV over me was hot," you admitted shamelessly, stroking her big ego in the hopes that it'd soon be her cock.

The redhead blushed, but quickly regained her cool as she leaned back into the cushion of the couch and firmly gripped your thighs apart.

"Can I see how hot it made you detka?" Her raspy voice made you dizzy, you nodded and moaned a soft please so she eagerly padded at the wetness seeping through your panties. "Oh look at you detka, you're just so needy, huh?"

She cursed in Russian when you answered with a buck of your hips. With a swift hand she laid you down and said, "You have to be quiet."

You shook your head. "I reminded Cole of a secret I kept, so he collected the kids and all they'd need and went to the guest suite."

"I knew I married a genius," she teased, her heart nearly exploded as you laughed. It'd been so rare to hear nowadays, so it was cherished.

"What do you want moya lyubov'?" Natasha looked deep in your eyes, wearing a smile that said only your pleasure was enough for her.

Instead of answering you pulled her down with a hand wrapped behind the nape of her neck. The kiss was soft, almost exploratory as it'd been so long since you'd had a spike in libido. But when Natasha still remained timid you took the initiative, your hand cupped her bulge, and you slid your tongue over her bottom lip.

She gasped and your tongue pushed beyond her lips, but hers expertly swirled around yours then darted down your throat. As you gagged she couldn't fight off the aching need so she pushed down into your hand and moaned.

The redhead pulled away, panting heavily as she tried to reel her neediness in. You drove her body wild, but she didn't want to get too lost in the lust if you weren't ready yet.

"You've been so patient with me," you purred, "Let me take care of you daddy, please?"

Natasha suddenly stilled, her sorrowful eyes set on  yours. "Hey no, detka, you deserve endless patience without expectations."

"Yeah, I know," you breathed. "But we went from having sex every few days to not at all."

Natasha smiled tenderly, her hand cupped your cheek. "That's fine, I don't need sex to be happy with you Y/N. You alone are enough."

"Well, that sentiment is returned, but I'm absolutely serious, so let me give you head."

Natasha was shocked by your bold words, it was a quick recovery though as she snorted, "If I ever say no, please do have me committed."

Natasha smiled triumphantly as you giggled, it always made her heart warm to hear your joy.

The mood swiftly returned to one of lust when after she leaned back you slid out and onto the ground on your knees. The woman was tired, jet lagged to be more precise, but that didn't stop her from helping you take her sweats off.

Natasha was undeniably aroused, her cock stood tall as soon as you slid her boxers off.

"You gonna stare all night detka?" Natasha teased, then her eyes softened. "If you're not ready, just say the word lyubov', it'll be okay."

You shook your head free of worry, and smiled at her for being so sweet. It was comically endearing. Here she sat with an erection that had to be hurting her at this point and she only cared about your comfort. Which actually only made you even more excited to suck her off.

Natasha groaned, the sound raspier than ever before as you traced your tongue over the veins of her cock. Her hands gripped the cushions of the couch as your lips wrapped around her tip, and she nearly came on the spot as your hands steadily pumped up from the base of her cock as your other hand lazily played with her balls.

Her breathing became increasingly labored as you bobbed your head up and down her length, you could feel yourself dripping down your thighs as you'd gone commando beneath her sleep shirt. Hearing just how much she was enjoying this had immeasurably turned you on.

Natasha's hips involuntarily jerked. "Oh fuck." You giggled around her shaft, the vibrations making her do it again, and this time you'd choked. Universal instant karma you suppose.

Natasha stilled, fearful eyes looking down into yours. "I'm okay," you immediately said after gasping for air upon releasing her cock, you didn't move far though, you instead hovered her tip with a goofy smile for hopeful clarity.

"Are you close?" You asked, but with how her shaft continued to twitch beneath your fingertips you'd figured you had your answer. Natasha nodded, it was uncharacteristically shy and you found yourself wanting more soft sensual moments just like this one with her. 

"Good." You mused. "Now how about you take over and cum down my throat as a reward."

The way you winked made the pit within her begin to unravel, Natasha's tip instantly coated in pebbles of white as you took over half of her length into your mouth, and proceeded to let her fuck your throat until it was raw. Your nails dug into the skin of her thighs that you were gripping for stability as she thrusted wildly, and glorious tears ran down your warm cheeks.

When she released down your throat the pleasure was blinding, her eyes slammed shut and she moaned for a prolonged moment as the hot spurts didn't stop. Strands of her cum slid down your chin along with your drool as she continuously thrusted until that wave of pleasure she was riding came to an end. 

While you both caught your breath you began to get handsy, impatiently pulling at the hem of her shirt until she removed it with a huff of amusement. You then kissed up her body until her cock was trapped against her abdomen by your slippery cunt, and your lips met hers.

Natasha's hands fell to your hips instinctually, and she guided you as you slowly ground into her, letting her tongue explore your mouth. When you whimpered with need she pulled back and you were met with dark, lusty eyes.

"I know you want me inside detka," she teased as she ran a thumb over your swollen lip that was still somewhat coated in her essence. "But daddy's missed your pussy in more ways than one, and I can't help but to need to taste you."

"Please," you whispered affectedly, and she pulled you back in for a deep, heartfelt kiss. "Thank you detka, lay down for daddy now."

Natasha removed your shirt seamlessly as you laid down, the fabric had barely left your skin before you felt her hands all over your body. One second they were gripping you by the hips to keep you from bucking into her face, then they no longer cared as they sought out your breasts. Natasha's tongue flicked over your bundle of nerves just as her thumbs pinched your nubs, and your body writhed as you came.

The orgasm you experienced was intense as the aftershocks continued rolling through you, and in retrospect it was also embarrassingly quick. But it'd been so long and Natasha was just that good, she never struggled to get you to let go.

Every muscle in your body relaxed for all of two seconds, but then the redhead continued to lavish away at your cunt. Cleaning up your arousal, but then delving even deeper to pull another, somehow more intense orgasm from the depths of your soul. Stars bloomed behind the lids of your eyes as you screamed her title.

Over and over again too. Natasha was like a woman starved as she refused to leave her place between your thighs. When you tried to shimmy away she growled, it was terrifying, but in the best way as you involuntarily gushed.

You knew that if you really needed her to stop you could say your safe word, but as much as you felt overstimulated you felt just as good.

"Fuck I missed this," Natasha moaned as she continued to lick at your glistening, puffy cunt. "If I could, I'd never leave this sacred spot."

You were cognitively incapable of a verbalized response besides the occasional, pitiful whine.

Natasha admired your fucked out face briefly before turning your whimpers into loud moans as she wrapped her lips around your clit, and sucked harshly as she suddenly filled you with three of her skilled fingers, that now curled delicately into your g-spot with every thrust.

Tears streamed down your temples, matting your hair to your face, and seeping into the cushions of your couch. You came with a yelp this time, cum absolutely drenching the couch and leaving Natasha in awe. You however were hardly able to breathe, or see as the tears made your sight bleary. This was when your hands flew into her hair, tangling up in the locks as you used all your remaining strength to pull her up to your lips in a redirecting manner.

Natasha kissed you sloppily, her fingers now coming to a stop as she understood your silent pleas. Slowly, after distracting you with a swirl of her tongue around yours, she pulled out. You whined lowly at the loss, but your body appreciatively deflated into the cushions, and while you worked to calm down she began to kiss all over your skin in a calm, soothing way.

"We should go get you cleaned up lyubov'," she murmured against the skin of your neck that she'd been nibbling, your breathing had finally returned to an evened rhythm. "No, please."

Natasha pulled back to look you over, she was shocked to see your eyes desperate for more.

"Are you sure detka?" You frantically nodded, "Yes, fuck, I want you to fill me so bad daddy."

Natasha pressed her lips to yours, and slid her throbbing member into your slick cunt without a hitch. Neither of you were going to last long, and truthfully neither of you needed to. There was already stars where the ceiling once was as your lover pounded into your sloshing cunt.

"Gonna fill you to the brim detka," she moaned against the shell of your ear. "Can't wait to see your beautiful belly grow with my baby again."

Her breaths were hot as they fanned across your twice as hot skin. Every grunt she released brought with it a reactive clench of your walls, and it drove the woman atop of you insane.

Natasha came with a silent scream, her load unleashing havoc on your abused walls, you were a moaning mess as she slammed into your g-spot repeatedly as she chased this glorious high, milking it for all it's worth and herself as well in the process. When she came to a stop, and pulled out of you she gasped.

The amount of cum that oozed out of you was jarring at first inspection. Natasha had never released this much in her life, she's almost certain it's impossible for that much to exist inside a person at once but she just rationalized it as a delayed release for the year without sex.

There was no way you wouldn't get pregnant.

Especially not after Natasha thrusted back inside of you, mumbling something about preserving the chance that made you chuckle.

"Are you prepared for a third baby?" You teased your wife, with a hand mindlessly running through her hair as she laid with her face pressed against your chest. "I once told you detka, I'd make you my breeding bitch."

You cackled, chest shaking beneath her head to the point that she had to lift up and narrow her eyes at you. "I'm not sure why that's funny, but yes, I'm prepared for whatever life brings. With you by my side I'd willingly raise a dozen kids."

Natasha smirked when your humor died away, eyes wide with fear until she finally took over laughing for you. "God, you looked so scared."

You scoffed, "I was. That's a lot of c-sections." Natasha pursed her lips in thought, then she shrugged her shoulders. "Not if we have twins."

"We'll leave the twins to Maximoff," you soon decided over a yawn. "I think two more is fine."

Natasha leaned down to kiss your lips. "Two more sounds perfect. A simple family of six."

"There's nothing simple about you Natasha."

"Yet you love me anyways." You could hear the insecurity in her tease, and it hurt your heart to think someone ever made her feel unlovable. "That I do." You gently guided her lips to yours, kissing her slowly before you guided her face back to the crook of your neck. "Very much."

Neither of you spoke another word, you just laid there soaking in the warmth of your love before slipping off into a restful nights sleep.

The first in a long time actually, and the last genuine one before Raven and Leo arrived. 

——

6,389 Words

Nat's former job: Acting / Y/N's: Stripping

Nat's current job: Breeder / Y/N's: To be Bred

❤️ Kaitlyn. 🤭

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff fanfiction #natasha romanoff au #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff smut #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha romanoff oneshot #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff x female reader #natasha romanoff x y/n #natasha x reader #natasha x y/n #natasha x you #natasha x fem!reader #gxg

[baaby-honeyy]

is it okay if I could ask for a toxic Harry one shot with more softer tones? like maybe he could be rlly rude to her and toxic at first but then softens up later on. :)

Mittens

A/N: i know i’ve been gone for a while, but i read everything you guys send me. me and my sister are so busy with work and our family sucks, so i wasn’t too motivated. but i know you guys don’t wanna hear about that. you wanna reeeeaddd. so please, enjoy. also this is a one-shot i think.

TW: toxic/mean/soft!harry, innocent/crybaby!y/n, fluff, angst, curse words. if there’s something i didn’t list, please tell me. 💗

SUMMARY: The sidewalk you’re walking on begins to blur away with your tears. You walk with your head down, looking at your shoes as you walk. Harry’s gripping your arm, dragging you away from the thing you couldn’t stop asking him about. With your eyebrows furrowed, you try to understand why Harry just wouldn’t say yes. He gets you mostly everything you could ever want, and if doesn’t want you to have it, you’ll just have to accept it. While it took some time, you’ve gotten used to his rules and you’re grateful for Harry. But you just couldn’t let this go.

Harry sits across from you with his arms crossed, his emerald green eyes locked on you. You’re eating at his favorite Asian restaurant, slurping up the noodles he ordered for you. Harry didn't place an order for him; on days like this, when he pampers you all day long, he rarely does. He’s more than fine with that, though. He loves to see you eating and happy with what he gives you.

As you eat, you’re unaware of the black bean sauce that’s now coated your lips and cheeks, almost getting on the white sundress Harry bought you. He watches, his eyebrows slightly raised as you continue eating. He waits for you to notice the mess you’ve made, but after a few moments he grabs a napkin and calls you harshly. In one harsh movement, Harry grabs your chin, forcing your cheeks to squish together. Noodles pour out of your mouth. Your eyes grow big and wide as you stare up at Harry, who’s now pulling out his phone with his free hand.

“Wha?” You try to say when he points the phone at you, but Harry tells you to be quiet as soon as you open your mouth. The flash goes off, and Harry smiles cunningly to himself and puts his phone back in his pocket. With noodle and sauce spilling out of your mouth, you whimper at Harry, and he uses the napkin to clean you.

“Harry-”

Once you notice Harry's face getting angrier, you hesitate.

“Harry, I-”

“Shh. S’fine. Just remember what I told you about table manners, okay?” Harry tells you, his voice deep while in a reassuring tone. You nod your head at his orders and pick up your chopsticks once again.

“I’m sorry, Harry. I just really love these noodles, thank you so much for bringing me here!” As you get a good amount of noodles in your chopsticks, you can’t help your smile as you think of the sweet, savory taste of the noodles on your tongue again. Harry smiles at the sight of you, and continues to watch you eat.

“Harry, do you think we can come back here tomorro- LOOK!” You interrupt yourself with a loud, dramatic gasp, pointing outside the window. Before Harry can even blink, you’re standing on the seat with your knees, palms pressed against the cold window.

“What are you-” Harry begins, but is over-powered by your loud rambling.

“Harry, I’m gonna go outside and pet it! I’ll be right back- awww! It’s sooo cute! I’ll be one sec!”

“Pet what? No, Y/n. Get back here- Y/n!” Harry attempts to grab your arm, but you’re already out of reach.

“Bye!!” And just like that, the doorbell rings as you leave out the building, leaving Harry clueless and even more annoyed than before. He looks out the window, scoffs at the handprints you left, and looks for you before deciding to head out there with you.

Your knees begin to hurt from kneeling on the rough concrete, but you choose to ignore the pain. The only thing you care about now is the small Calico kitten that’s getting cozy in your arms. The kitty suckles on a worn-out blue mitten and drapes it from his teeth before placing it gently on your leg. He whimpers and purrs, rubbing his head onto your chest. Your eyes grow big as you gasp, feeling more connection towards the kitten.

“What the fuck did I tell you? Don’t go anywhere without telling me. Do you hear me? This is a main road, Y/n.” You gasp at Harry’s sudden booming voice, and watch as he stomps towards you with a look of extreme annoyance.

“What’s this?”

“A kitten, H! A calico kitten! Say meow!” Holding the kitten up to Harry, you take one of his paws pand make it wave at him. Harry expression remains the same.

“Get up.” He grabs your arm and lifts you up, rolling his eyes as you whine in disobedience.

“Why must I always repeat the rules to you? Are you too dense to remember them? Hm? Is that it?” Harry’s grip gets tighter as he speaks, but he lets go once he looks down to see tears filling your wide eyes.

“What? Do you want me to tell you that you can take it home? It’s not going to happen.”

“Wha- why? He won’t bother you! I promise I’ll take care of him-”

“No.” Harry says, almost immediately regretting it, though, as he sees the tears now flowing down your cheeks. Your lip quivers, as you look down at the kitten the best you can through your tears.

Harry sighs, before wrapping an arm around you and pulling you into his chest.

“I know, Baby. Don’t cry. Just don’t want you to get sick, okay? It’s cute, but we don’t know where this kitten has been. Put it down and we can get your favorite ice cream, yeah?”

When you don’t answer, Harry kisses the top of your head, before leaning down slightly so he can shower the rest of your face with kisses.

“Y’want more kisses? Huh? Is that what’s gonna make you feel better?” Harry’s voice is low like a whisper, kissing you soft and gentle in hopes you’ll let the whole cat thing go.

“Gonna give you all the kisses you want when we get home, okay?”

You close your eyes and whimper into Harry’s touch, and you almost give in, but the Calico’s adorable face can’t leave your mind. You look back to see the kitten licking his paws, and back up at Harry.

“Harry, please. I want him..” You say lowly, followed by a long sigh from Harry.

“I know. I don’t think you’ll be able to handle it, Baby. Maybe in the future if I-”

“In the future? But Harry, the future’s so long from now! What if this kitten is gone by then?

“We’ll find another one.”

“But what if-”

“Y/n. For fuck’s sake, get over it! You’re not getting the fucking kitten.” Harry says, grabbing your arm again, and dragging you down the side walk.

Which brings you to your impossible situation.

The sidewalk you’re walking on begins to blur away with your tears. You walk with your head down, looking at your shoes as you walk. Harry’s gripping your arm, dragging you away from the thing you couldn’t stop asking him about. With your eyebrows furrowed, you try to understand why Harry just wouldn’t say yes. He gets you mostly everything you could ever want, and if doesn’t want you to have it, you’ll just have to accept it. While it took some time, you’ve gotten used to his rules and you’re grateful for Harry. But you just couldn’t let this go.

“Stop crying already.” Harry spits out. His voice was sharp and he spoke quick, like he was already tired of hearing you complaining. You whine at his harshness, and stop your feet in attempt to get him to let go of you.

“You don’t even get me gifts anymore.” You say, your voice strained from how much your struggling. Harry turns around so quick, eyebrows furrowed in a mix of disbelief and annoyance.

“I buy you something new every fuckin’ week. Stop being spoiled.” He shoots back, before continuing to drag you back to the car. You only continue to protest and stomp your feet, making Harry’s grip on you tighten even more.

“No. You already have enough things lying around the house. Y’think I wanna buy you a living pet? Already got you to bother me."

“Har-, please! It’s just a kitten!” Your throat begins to close as you cry harder. You see Harry scoff through your blurry vision. Harry shakes his head slightly while pinching the bridge of his nose.

“God, you’re so fuckin’ annoying.” Harry mutters under his breath, before wrapping his arms around you. You don’t think anything of it, until his arms tighten around your waist, and he pulls you up onto his shoulder. Harry keeps a hand on your butt, to keep your dress from blowing up with the wind. The only thing you can see is his lower shirt, and the concrete beginning to move again as he walks.

The feeling of defeat begins to rise up in you, and you were about to give up, until you saw that cute Calico cat begin to follow you. He was the most cutest thing you could ever look at, so small and cute just like you. You thought for sure Harry would let you have him, and hearing say no repeatedly just broke your little heart.

Harry’s car was just a few blocks down. All he needed to do was get you in there and take you to an ice cream place. It works every time, when you won’t take no for an answer. Except Harry didn’t know how much this cat meant to you, and it wouldn’t just take your favorite ice cream to make you forget.

“N-no! Put me down, Harry! Put me down!” You thrash and kick your legs around in the air, pounding your fists at Harry’s back. He tries to ignore you at first, but quickly gets annoyed at your screaming and whining. Before you know it, you’re back on your own two feet staring up at Harry’s narrowed eyes.

“You don’t know when to shut your fuckin’ mouth, huh? Y’want to walk by yourself? Fine. Don’t come cryin’ to me when your feet starts to hurt, even though I’m the one who warned you that would happen if you wore those shoes.” Harry spits out, pointing down at your white MaryJanes. You look down too, staring at your white and pink frilly socks you chose.

“I’m not going to let you walk by yourself, Y/n. Just be a good girl and walk beside me, yeah? Can you do that f’me?” Harry nods slightly while he speaks, waiting for you to do the same. His tolerance for you is obviously diminishing. If he was asked to be completely honest, he would say that you don’t need a cat. He already has you to take care of, and most of the time you’re distracted by something else, so you probably wouldn’t even have to patience to take care of a cat.

You look up at him pleadingly, hoping in your heart that Harry will suddenly change his mind. The car wasn’t too far from here, and the kitten could be anywhere now. Eventually, you slowly nod your head in compliance, and Harry gives you few kisses on the top of your head for behaving.

“That’s my good girl. C’mon, little baby. Gonna get you ice-”

“Harry, look! He’s over there! I’m gonna go get him!”

Before Harry can process, your running straight for the cat, who’s across the street. Your little brain, too excited for its own good, can’t even see the traffic coming.

"Y/N— Fuck!" For Harry, everything—the cars, the people walking by, and even you—moved slowly. He didn’t even think he had enough time to grab you. You were already off the curb and into the street. Adrenaline pumps in Harry’s veins, momentum picks up in his feet, giving him enough time wrap an arm around your waist. As you scream at the unexpected touch, Harry quickly grabs you and drags you away from the street.

You try to pry Harry’s arm off of you, but he just wouldn’t let go.

“WHAT THE FUCK WERE YOU THINKING?”

As soon as Harry's voice can be heard, everyone in the street looks in your direction. When he speaks, his voice is shaky and breathy, like he can’t catch his breath.

“ANSWER ME!”

Harry’s veins pop out of his neck as he screams, his eyes bloodshot from what just happened. He never experienced such intense fear. If there is even a slight chance that you were injured or worse, he wouldn't know where to start when it came to moving on. You’re far too important.

Now that you're fully sobbing, your chest is heaving with fear from the recent event. "I just-"

“Just.. shut up. Don’t talk.” Harry interrupts, then decides against listening to what you have to say. He grabs your wrist and yanks you to the car. He opens the car with the remote and immediately throws you in the backseat, instead of letting you sit with him upfront like he usually does.

“Wait-” You try to say, but Harry slams the door in your face. He walks to the drivers seat and immediately starts the car. From the backseat, you could see just how scared Harry was. You never see this in him, he’s always sarcastic and arrogant, but pleasing and sweet. Never scared. Harry fails to hide his frightened expression in the mirror.

The ride back home was torture. There was nothing said between you two, and the only thing heard was Harry’s deep sighs every few minutes. In any car ride with Harry, you could never be bored. He’d always find someway to keep you entertained, wether it was playing iSpy with you or talking about how much he loves you. This car ride was the complete opposite. You almost started to cry because the silence was so loud.

When you got back home, Harry didn’t let you in first, or even look back to see if you entered the house. He callously throws the car keys on the kitchen counter, and makes his way up the stairs.

“If you thought you were getting that kitten then, you’re definitely not getting it now.” Harry says in a mumble, but loud enough so he knows you hear him. The next thing you heard was the bedroom door slam shut, leaving you and your fuzzy brain all alone to overthink.

You contemplate whether to go in there and talk to Harry, but the look in his eyes when he was unlocking the front door- they were red and puffy, and his trembling made it harder to open the door. Ultimately, you decide that the couch was the best idea. You lay down on the couch and put your comfort show on the TV, trying your best to get rid of that guilty feeling in your chest.

When you wake, the first thing you see is you and Harry's bed sheets.

The bright morning sun awakes you from your sleep. It takes you a while to realize that you’re no longer on the couch, you’re on you and Harry’s bed, completely tucked in and under the warm covers. You notice that your sundress from yesterday has been replaced with only Harry’s t-shirt. With your eyes almost shut from the bright sun, you do your best to look on the bed and around the room for any sign of Harry. You let out a little whine when you see he’s nowhere in the room, and force yourself to get up.

Halfway down the stairs, you hear mutters of curse words and sighs coming from the floor below.

“Harry?” You speak softly, trying to assure Harry with your voice that you won’t be disobedient. There’s no answer, and when you reach the end of the stairs, you see nobody in the living room or the kitchen. Confused, and mind still fuzzy from sleep, you trudge around the house in hopes to find Harry.

“C’mon, right there, -fuck-” From the backyard, there is a faint sound, and your brows furrow in confusion as you try to understand the words.

“C’mon, that’s right, stay right there. Good girl.”

Those words make you gasp, and your thoughts start to stray in unwanted directions. The words continue to be said, and you wish that you wouldn’t have disobeyed Harry yesterday. You wish you were better for him, because now someone else is pleasing him, like you were supposed to. Your heart sinks as you race to the back door, and open it as fast as you can.

“Harry!” You say as you slam the door open, startling Harry from what he was doing. Only his lower half is visible, the other being concealed by the wall. He comes from the corner and sees you, tears running down your cheeks, and your stuffed animal in one hand.

“Baby?”

That sinking feeling immediately vanishes when you see Harry.

“You’re up.” Harry says, casually holding two Calico cats in both hands. He’s smiling awkwardly and wide, waiting for you to give him a response. You can’t, you just stand there, mouth slightly open and eyes wide.

“B-but you said-”

“Forget what I said, baby. S’not what I meant.” Harry interrupts you, and speaks softly so you know he’s not angry with you about last night. He sets the cats down in the crate that you have no idea where he got it from, and brings his attention to you.

“Was out since like four AM tryna find that cat again. Turns out he has a sis-”

Harry’s cut off by you rushing into his arms, hugging him as tight as you can.

“Thank you so much, Harry!”

“You’re welcome, Baby. Both kept running off, it took so long just to grab them-”

“I love you, I love you, I love you!” You say, voice muffled into his chest. You feel the vibration in his chest as he laughs. He takes a handful of your hair in his fist and slightly pulls it back just enough for you to look up at him.

“You know I love you too. But disobeying me isn’t the way to get what you want.”

You silently shudder to yourself and try to avoid thinking about how you behaved yesterday. You’re surprised Harry’s not even mad anymore. Usually when you act out, he’s not so forgiving this quick.

“I know I wasn’t the best yesterday either,” Harry starts, his voice low as he admits what he was doing wrong.

“Shouldn’t have scolded you like that. I know you just don’t know any better and yelling at you wasn’t the answer. Just made my baby cry.”

Staring up at Harry, who’s visibly upset with what he’s done, you step up in your tippy toes to kiss him gently on the forehead.

“I’m okay, Harry. I-I shouldn’t have ran into the street-” With your gaze completely avoiding Harry’s stare, you try hard to finish your sentence without sobbing.

“And I’m really, really s-”

“I know, Kitten.”

“Huh?” You ask, still avoiding Harry’s gaze at you.

“I know you’re sorry, Baby..”

Harry pauses, as he doesn’t know wether to tell you this, or just leave it as something only he knows.

“You were crying in your sleep..” Harry fights the urge to look down too. He knows if he wouldn’t have been so harsh in you about Mittens in the first place, you would’ve never acted out, and Harry has known you long enough to know that you don’t know any better.

“Poor baby was cryin’ in her sleep.. I’ve never felt more shame in my life. How could I make such a sweet girl cry?” Harry speaks, more to himself than to you, as he looks off into the backyard, and than back towards you.

“I’m so, so, sorry..” You say in a whisper, almost choking the horrible feeling rising in your throat.

“Mm,” Harry mumbles, taking his hand and caressing you cheek with it to get you to calm down, as he sees you’re already out of breath with emotion. You can’t help but shudder at his new stern tone when he starts talking again.

“Understand that you have to be careful, Y/n. I know I made the mistake of just scolding you, and yelling at you, but when you ran into the street..”

Harry pauses.

“You know I would be lost without you.” He takes another pause, like he knows once he starts talking he won’t be able to stop until it’s all out. But he decides, that’s okay. As long as you know how vital you are.

“There quite literally is no other you. I-I can't replace you, Y/n. And I know I'm an ass, and I’m arrogant and annoying ninety percent of the time, but, know that you're all I have. You have to be careful, Y/n. Jus' be careful for me, alright? Jus' bear that in mind.”

Harry’s voice remains in a low rhythm. Cool fingertips slide across your cheek as he takes in every detail of your face, his gaze full of longing and remorse. And, as you saw for the first time before, fear.

You don't realize that when you glance up at Harry, another melancholy expression has crept upon your face, and tears have risen in your eyes. Harry’s own eyes dilate at you, and he smooths his thumb across your furrowed brow.

“You’re not in trouble, baby. S’okay.”

Harry’s eyes flicker back and forth between yours, and he gently leans in to kiss your nose. The kiss was so light and sweet, like the kiss of a butterfly, making you feel warm inside.

“Don’t you wanna play with your kittens?” Harry asks, his voice light and inviting. You immediately nod your head frantically, as if you couldn’t wait any longer. Sitting down on the grass, you grab both cats and sit them in your lap. The boy immediately begins to cherish you, waving his tail in your face and purring. The girl, however, isn’t too fond of you yet. She turns away from you, and wanders the backyard.

“What’re you gonna name them?” Harry asks, grabbing a chair and sitting down in front of you. You pause at his question, trying your hardest to think of names that suit these cats.

“I dunno. This one will be Mittens,” You start, scratching under the cat’s chin, making him purr and his eyes dilate.

“Because when we found each other, he was chewing on a blue mitten!”

Harry couldn’t help but laugh at you, because you were so happy now that you got what you wanted. He knows he can’t always continue to spoil you, but when your his good girl (he won’t admit it, but even when you’re bad), he can never say no.

“And the girl?”

“She’ll be.. she’ll be..” The words don’t come out. Your fuzzy little brain, only filled with excitement, just gives up. Harry gives a sympathetic pout at your confusion before speaking.

“S’fine baby, you can decide later. Wanna bring ‘‘em inside?”

Whipping your neck up at Harry, your eyes go big at the opportunity you never thought you’d have.

“Yes!! Thank you so much!!” You say, practically screaming at how excited you are. You begin to pick up Mittens, but you stop once you hear Harry’s voice.

“Woah, before you go, what’re you forgetting?”

A gasp escapes your mouth at Harry’s sudden harsh tone. His face is completely straight, with not a hint of emotion. Your brain goes crazy at what you could’ve forgotten this time. Looking at Harry only made it worse for you, as he’s sitting back on the chair with his legs spread wide, green eyes locked on yours. You take him in, looking at every part of him, until you just.. move.

Practically jumping in to Harry’s lap, you wrap your arms around his neck and kiss his soft, plump lips. His eyes go wide at you, but quickly close as he feels he feels your mouth move with his. He tried to keep the kiss going for longer, but he couldn’t contain his laughter, and you couldn’t either. Even you are surprised at your sudden confidence.

“Haha, good girl! That’s not what I meant, but good girl. Was talkin’ about the crates, baby. Gotta take responsibility.” Answering with an obedient nod, you wrap your arms more tightly around Harry’s neck. You and Harry kiss a few more times, before he gently taps the side of your thighs as a signal for you to hop off his lap. When you do, Harry grabs the girl cat, and you grab Mittens.

You head back towards the door, Harry letting you in first. You reach the living room and begin to set Mittens down, but pause and look for Harry. You give him a pleading look, your eyes asking him if it’s okay to let the cats play here.

He gives you a small nod of approval, smiling at how obedient you’re being. You set down Mittens, and Harry sets down the girl cat. As soon as Mitten’s paws hit the floor, he wanders around curiously with his sister. You watch them go for a few moments before following them.

“Wait up, Mittens!” You say, as if he can understand you. Mittens watches you catch up, and you gently pick him up in your arms. Sitting back down, you place Mittens in your lap again and begin to pet his soft fur. Once you scratch underneath his chin, he closes his eyes and purrs, leaning into your touch.

Now sitting on the couch, Harry is just staring at the kitten and you. How could he have deprived you of something like this? You look so happy with the kitten, and the feeling of guilt begins to rise in him the more he looks at you. Regardless of how Harry acted earlier, happiness and contentment is all he could want for you. There’s no doubt that you’re spoiled, though. You always get what you want from Harry eventually, and he wonders if you knew that this whole time.

Harry laughs gently to himself at the sight of your smile and the sound of your giggles. You look up at him, his gaze locked on you and the kitten as he remains leaned back on the couch.

“What ya lookin at, Harry?” You ask between enthusiastic giggles.

“M’ lookin at my girl, my spoiled girl. Who told you that you can get whatever you want, hm? Was that my doing?”

With you and Harry’s gazes still locked on each other’s, you laugh before answering, as you pet Mittens.

“It’s all your fault, Harry!”

“Right, baby. S’all my fault.” Harry responds, getting off the couch and beginning to sit down on the floor next to you. He pauses midway so he can kiss your head gently. You pat the spot next to you so Harry can sit, and the girl cat, who’s done wandering now, warily makes her way towards Harry.

The girl cat hesitates for a moment before tentatively biting and chewing on his index finger, still not particularly amused. He takes the opportunity to touch her again, and when he does, she immediately begins purring and meowing in response to the touch. Harry and you both chuckle at her response.

Even with the little time Harry’s spent with the kittens, he can understand what made you want them so badly. The way you purr when you get what you want, the way you whine when you don’t, and how you’re constantly begging for his attention all reminds him of a kitten. That’s why he began calling you one in the first place.

“Reminds me of someone.”

“Who?” You ask, voice high and curious. Harry doesn’t respond right away, choosing his words before speaking.

“Who’s my Kitten?”

When you don’t answer right away, Harry repeats his question.

“Who’s my good little Kitten?”

You answer with a wide, gushing smile, holding Mittens up to your cheeks as you do.

“S’ right, Baby. Now you got some Kittens of your own. Think you’re ready? It’s a really big respons-”

Harry accidentally cuts himself off with a yawn, tiredly ruffling his hair as he does. He blinks his eyes a few times too, not being able to see clearly.

“M’ sorry, Baby. Like I said, only slept like thirty minutes yesterday. I’m gonna stay up and watch you play, though, alright? Don’t wanna miss this.”

You nod unseemly, continuing to play with your new kitties, while Harry takes a seat back on the couch. The way that Mittens loves on you makes you feel so warm and happy. You get easily lost in your happiness, and time just slips from your mind.

Your head shoots up when you hear soft snores come from above you. Harry lays fallen back against the couch, and his mouth slightly open as he breathes heavily. His hair is ruffled completely, and his brows are creased with discomfort.

Gently and quietly, you set Mittens down and tip toe towards Harry. You bring a gentle hand towards his cheek, slightly rubbing him so he wakes up.

Harry’s eyes shoot up at you, and across the living room as he processes where he is.

“F-fuck, I’m sorry, Baby. I thought I could-”

“Harry,” You interrupt, a frown appearing on your face, which contagiously gives Harry one too, at the sight of yours. You’re visibly upset, because you know the lengths Harry will go through to make sure you always get what you want. The fact that he’ll stay up just to watch you play makes you feel even more guilty.

“You have to sleep,” You say in a low whisper, being mindful of how sleepy Harry is. He slowly makes his way off the couch, stopping and yawning before completely getting up. You two begin to head up the stairs, but you stop once you see Mittens and his sister carefully follow behind you.

“I know you don’t want them on the bed, but can we at least bring the crates in the room so they won’t be lonely?” You beg as politely as you can, mentally cringing at the thought of Harry saying no. You won’t cry though, because you know you’ve asked a lot of Harry today.

“What?” You hear Harry say, his voice deep, and almost incoherent with sleepiness. "No, leave the crates," and your stomach drops. Despite your disappointment, you start to let it go as you look down.

“They can sleep with us.” Harry grabs both cats, who were silently cleaning each other below you. Mentally throwing a party, you smile gratefully and begin to walk up the stairs with Harry and the cats.

After Harry places the cats on your large, plush bed, he begins changing out of the clothing he was still wearing from yesterday. The cats immediately begin to explore, delicately pulling at the covers with their claws. You assist Harry with changing his clothes because he was too worn out to manage it himself. He initially resisted a little, insisting he was alright, but after repeatedly stumbling and swearing, he gave up.

“Look at you, takin’ care of me for a change,” Harry smirks at you followed by a yawn, while you giggle.

“Mm, thank you, Baby.” When you’re done, Harry grants you with a kiss on the nose as a thank you.

Once you’re finished, you and Harry crawl in bed together, and Harry brings you up close to his chest, kissing your head just before his eyes flutter shut.

“Are you happy, Y/n?” He asks, voice getting husky with sleepiness.

“Mhm! I love you so much. I still can’t believe I have Mittens!” You say, not being able to contain the excitement in your voice. Harry only laughs lightly, kissing your head once more.

“Mm… Good. Than so am I.”

With you in Harry’s chest, Mittens laying by your shoulder, and his sister laying by your feet, you and Harry begin to fall into slumber. You couldn’t be any happier.

A/N~ what should the female cat’s name be?🐈 i hope you enjoyed, and please leave name suggestions if you want to. <3 thanks for reading! and yes, ruin part 2 is coming very very soon. like sooner than soon, lol.

#harry styles #harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagines #imagines #female reader #dom!harry #innocent reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles one shot #sub!reader #cats #kitten #writers on tumblr #fanfics #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfiction #baby honey #baabyhoneyy

[bloodweep]

Pleaseeeeee write more Floyd omg I'm so in love with the way you write <3333

AHH thank you, he’s so bb I love him so so much ,,,

This is been my little brainrot for a bit all day yesterday:

━━━━━━━ ✦❘༻༺❘✦ ━━━━━━━

. . . ⇢ ˗ˏˋ Mistletoe ࿐ྂ

Floyd never felt so giddy like he did today, well, perhaps not as much as he felt when he was reunited with his brothers but it was close. His cheeks burned a soft purple constantly since he’s been up, the flush sometimes adventuring to his ears and down his neck, he was sure his chest was covered too but he would like to pretend no one could see. Or maybe people did see and didn’t care to point it out as many were doing the same thing.

He held the present close to his chest, his ears wiggling and flattening out as he buried his small snout into it, inhaling the scent softly as his tail wagged behind himself. He felt overwhelmed, not sure how to go about anything and inhaling the soft cinnamon scent of the wrapping and bow he used did help ground him. With a soft sigh he lifted his head back up, fixed his furred collar of his jacket vest around his neck - in attempt to cover the blush traveling down rather than the cold, his brothers never were really affected by it like the other fellow pop trolls.

However his feet didn’t move still, he felt planted in place, it was just exchanging gifts right? There wasn’t anything too difficult with it? But to him, it meant and felt so much more to him, like it was so much more special to give this gift to you. He’s used to giving gifts to others all the time, but he couldn’t help but feel a little dejected if you didn’t like it.

He was taken out of his internal stupor when you called out to him, your hands waving in the air as you jumped up and down. He smiled, his teeth coming over his lower lip to show off his teeth, his tiny little fangs digging into the flesh slightly. “Floyd!” You called, making a few flinch and look at you with how loud you were, but you didn’t care as you bounded over to him. He couldn’t help but giggle a little; you were completely bundled up, a cute little hat over your hair that made it spill around your face and neck, some cute ear muffs on top of it - he could feel his own ears melting off with his warm yours must be - you had this cutest little scarf around your neck, the tails fluttering in the wind as you ran over to him, a thick fur jacket that was buttoned and zipped all the way up, thick pants and topped off thick furred boots. The only thing missing was the mittens, he would be dying of heat stroke if he wore all that. Compared to him, it seems you were about to travel to the Antarctic.

“Hello,” he called out, his arms opening up to invite you in for a hug, knowing it was going to happen anyways, the present clutched tightly in his left hand, without hesitation you bounded into his arms. Your feet planted on his hips as you forced him to bend backwards as you hugged him tightly. He wrapped his arms around your waist tightly so you wouldn’t force them to fall backwards on the snowy ground and you wouldn’t fell off of him.

“Oh I missed you!” You exclaimed hugging around his neck tightly and rubbing your cheeks together lazily. “It’s been since yesterday,” he murmured out, sighing in content at the closeness even if the extra warmth from the fur was making him heat up a bit more. “I missed you more,” he admitted before gently setting you down on the ground before looking you over. “Aren’t you hot?” He laughed his head tightly slightly. You shook your head, “oh gosh no; I’m so cold,” you giggled rubbing your hands together. “I can’t find my mittens and my hands are so so cold I feel like they are going to freeze off,” you whined out.

You paused looking over Floyd in shock; only seeing his furry vest jacket, even more appalled to see he was still wearing his belt and shorts and no shoes. Your mouth was basically through the ground at this point. “Oh my god!” You nearly screeched your hands coming up to grip his face, nails skimming his ears and making him shudder. You moved his head around examining him, your eyes so wide. “How are you not cold?” You asked waiting for a response.

Floyd shook his head gently, “I am not, my brothers and I can withstand the cold better,” he replied nearly breathless, he wasn’t used to you being this concerned for him and being in his face like this. “Well screw you,” you laughed out shaking your head. “Oh!” You replied giving him whiplash as you looked at his hand to the present. “Who is that for?” You asked his head tilting lazily, a soft smile on your lips, which was different compared to your teasing one.

He stuttered a little before bringing it to you; “it’s.. for you” he replied softly his eyes downcast to the ground afraid to see your reaction. You paused before gently grabbing it, “you didn’t have to,” you whispered. You tore into the paper before sniffing softly “cinnamon?” You questioned.

“The scent reminds me of you,” he whispered his ears turning a deep purple now. You blushed lightly at them before going back to your present. Once the paper was off you opened the box and gasping. What laid there was a beautiful handmade mittens, hat, jacket, boots, with a little note on top with Floyd’s elegant handwritten with a heart. You grasped the note and opened it with one hand.

‘For you, my dear, I hope these bring you all the warm and comfort while the weather continues to try to dwindle your brightness

- Love

Floyd’

Another box inside the box caught your eye too before you could get all sentimental about the card, but you did put the card into your pocket and patted it softly. You set the box of new clothes down before grabbing that one with box hands and gently opening it. In that box was a beautiful necklace, coated in sapphire and diamonds with a beautiful elegant rose quartz that hung on a chain so it could rest over your heart. Tears coated your face now as you lifting it up out of the box, letting the box drop as you held the necklace to your chest. Floyd look at you worriedly grasping your face in his hands so gently to look you over.

“Oh please don’t cry, do you not like it?” He asked worriedly chewing his lower lip after but you shook your head. “Oh Floyd I love it,” you sniffled pushing your hand up between his hand and your cheek to push the necklace in his palm. “Put it on me please,” you breathed out. He let out a shaky exhale before nodding, moving closer so his nose brushed yours and gently began to clasp it asking your neck. “I found the gems and made it myself,” he murmured. This brought more tears down your cheeks, you never had someone do this for you.

Once he was done with the clasp he brought his hand down to place the rose quartz over your heart and leaving his hand there. You looked him in the eyes before looking up trying to content your emotions.

“Oh Floyd look,” you whispered pointing up to the branches above. “A mistletoe,” you beamed, grasping his ears and pulling him in, you pressed your lips softly to his, your ears closing. He responded back so quickly, his hands sliding down to your waist and holding you tightly and swaying.

“This is the best Christmas I’ve ever had,” you whispered into the kiss making him beam. He gently picked you off of the ground and spun around slowly. He didn’t even know why he was nervous about you accepting his gifts.

━━━━━━━ ✦❘༻༺❘✦ ━━━━━━━

He’s so soft it makes me heart warm

#trolls #trolls band together #trolls 3 #brozone #floyd trolls x reader #floyd trolls #floyd x reader #trolls Floyd

[aanoia]

for the christmas thing, i think a oneshot that's basically just james and reader with a mistletoe. could be at a party or maybe even while they decorate their house!! whatever you want to do with that prompt is fine though :)

thank you so much for the request, I hope you love it!

𝒅𝒂𝒚 𝒐𝒏𝒆 - 𝒂 𝒎𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒍𝒆𝒕𝒐𝒆 𝒌𝒊𝒔𝒔

James Potter x reader day one of the christmas advent calendar words; 849 warnings; none this one is so sweet :) also it's december finally, literally the best month of the year and my birthday (which is christmas on the dot)

‘Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas’ played softly as I entered the Lupin homestead. I smiled as I shrugged off my scarf and coat, gently placing them on the coat rack before walking into the living room.

“Oh, Y/n! You made it!” Lily said happily, leaving the warm side of her boyfriend to give me a tight hug. 

“Lily! I’ve missed you.” I responded, hugging her back just as tight.

“Me too, it’s been ages since we’ve last seen each other, hasn’t it?” She asked and I opened my mouth to answer, but was cut off as a large black dog came running into the living room, a dripping spatula caught between its teeth.

Remus ran in after Sirius, “Sirius! Enough, give me back the spatula. Dogs can’t have chocolate, idiot!”

Sirius transformed into his human self, “Well then, it’s a good thing I’m not a dog then, isn’t it?” He looked over to me and licked the spatula. “‘Ello, love, how have you been doing?”

I snorted and pulled him into a hug, “Quite well, if I must say. And you?”

He winked, “I’ve been great. Having a place with your boyfriend, just your boyfriend, is great. If you know what I mean.” I shook my head as I gave Remus a hug, mumbling quiet hello’s to each other.

“Gross.” Peter said, walking out of the kitchen, wearing the most hideous, wretched Christmas sweater I’ve ever seen.

I raised my eyebrows, “Wow, Peter, you really took the ugly part seriously.”

“It’s not ugly, what do you mean?” Peter’s girlfriend, Amanda (sorry to the Amanda’s) piped up and I refrained from rolling my eyes.

“Amanda, you’re here.” I said with a fake smile.

She looked me up and down and grimaced. “I am. For some reason.” She mumbled at the end, walking back into the kitchen. I made eye contact with Lily and she rolled her eyes at her antics.

Everyone retreated to the kitchen as I set my purse down on the coffee table and smiled at the large Christmas tree.

“Everyone gets a hi but me, huh?” I jumped as a voice sounded from behind me.

I turned around, “James. Hi.” 

He smiled and pulled me into a hug. “Hello, how have been, love?” He asked softly.

“I’ve been good, how about you?”

“Much better now that you’re in front of me.” He said, taking a step to the side and bringing me with him.

I looked into his eyes as he kept nudging us gently, “What are you doing?”

“What do you mean?”

“Why are you moving us?”

“Am I moving us?”

I glanced to the side and laughed, taking a step back before we got underneath the mistletoe.

“Not a chance, Potter.” I said smugly, walking past him and into the kitchen with everyone else.

“I’ll get you tonight, L/n.” He called after me and I shook my head.

The oven dinged and Sirius gasped excitedly.

“The cookies!” He exclaimed, jumping up and running to the oven.

Remus shot up, “Sirius, no, you’ll-” Sirius yelped in shock as he burned his finger. Remus sighed, “Burn yourself. Come here.” 

I carefully took the cookies from the oven and Remus bandaged up Sirius’ burn. I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply, savoring the sweet smell of the fresh cookies.

“They smell delicious.” I said as I set them on top of the pot holder on the counter. “You did great, Remus.”

He smiled at me, “Thank you.”

“Y/n, come here.” James said, beckoning me over to the doorway.

I shook my head as I took the mittens off, “Nope.” I said as I muttered a cooling spell on the cookies and carefully picked one up.

“Please?” He said. I smiled and walked over, shoving a cookie in his mouth before he could conjure a mistletoe.

I booped his nose as he ate the cookie, defeated. “Stop trying to get me to walk under a mistletoe.”

A few candy cane shots later and everyone was up dancing to ‘Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree’. A hand grabbed mine and spun me around as I laughed loudly. James put his other hand on my waist as we swirled and swayed. I failed to notice the way he was gently moving us over, step by step. Eventually, the song ended and a softer one came on as everyone calmed down.

James cleared his throat, “Well, what a coincidence.”

I looked at his face, humming in question before my eyes caught the shimmering of a crystal. I looked up and my heart beat rapidly in my chest as I stared at the mistletoe.

“We can’t break tradition.” He whispered and my eyes met his.

“You’re an ass.” I whispered back before smashing my lips against his. His arm snaked around my waist and bent me backwards slightly as my hand made its way on his cheek. It was nothing short of magical, literally.

“We should go on a date.” He said breathlessly once we pulled away.

I smiled and placed a small kiss on his lips. “If you’re lucky.”

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[throneofsapphics]

old faces, part six

Rowaelin x f!Reader

Summary:  you and Rowan meet again after seven years, and deal with the fall-out of a secret. 

Warnings: mentions of death, drinking

Word Count: ~5k 

A/N: here we go! I’m curious, would y’all prefer short chapters and more frequent updates? or keeping them around the same lengths?

series masterlist 

Three weeks passed since the two of you left for Caraverre for the last time, and today they received the letter telling them you’d arrive a week from now. The month was spent eagerly awaiting your arrival. 

You’d written a post note; 

Ceri found a kitten, and she’s coming with us. I asked if she was certain about keeping her, and was hissed at twice.

“You’ll need to make a new friend,” she told Fleetfoot, currently dozing at her feet. He was about ten years old now, and not quite slowing down, but not as energetic as he was several years ago. Lazily lifting his head, he opened one eye, before laying back down, tucking his head between his paws. He didn’t have the best track record with cats, but hopefully the new kitten would be an exception. Or at least confident enough to stand up for herself. 

“Another friend?” Rowan asked, door closing behind him. She handed him the letter. 

“A cat,” he looked at Fleetfoot, then at her. 

Aelin shrugged, “she’ll keep the mice away.” 

“When she’s here,” he pointed out. 

“Wherever she is.” 

He couldn’t argue with that. Preemptively, they’d looked into a few different places the two of you could live - even if they hated every second of it. If they could at least sniff out the safest areas, they’d feel a bit better. Then, just make some subtle nudges. Would you let them participate in house hunting? 

-

“How long do we have to stay at the castle?” 

“Until we find a home.” 

“When will that be?” 

“After we find one.” 

A groan of frustration, “How long does that take?” 

“It could be days or weeks.” 

She didn’t look pleased with the answer, but that was the truth. As far as homes went, you’d be relatively picky. Maybe a tad more than relatively. There was a running list in your mind. 

High exposure to magic in the past. 

Enough space for Ceri to have her chickens, not enough space for a Wyvern.

Walking distance from the city. 

The criteria was high, but you hoped something would come around quickly. You were eager to create a home base in Orynth, to establish a safe place, a place that belonged to both of you. A castle could be a home, you supposed, but not for you. You’d never feel like you belonged there. 

You meant what you said to Fenrys. You were never born to live in a castle, and as of now, you had no desire to. That’s something you couldn’t picture changing over the years. 

Another thing you didn’t expect was Ceri being this adamant against living in the castle. 

Scanning the cramped interior of the carriage, you saw Ceri still wrapped up in another dragon book - but her eyes were starting to droop. You let a small smile curve on your face, gazing out the frost-covered window. A few more hours, and you’d be passing the gates of Orynth. 

Breathe, you reminded yourself, and watched as your breath condensed in front of you. Gods it was cold, both of you bundled up as much as you could. Still, better than being outside. 

A soft snore, and Ceri was sleeping, body laid out across the bench, mitten covered hands still wrapped around the book, now clutched to her chest. It was a miracle she could read with those on. Quietly standing, you lifted the bench beneath you, dragging out a warm quilt, and tucking it around her shoulders. It’s likely she’d sleep all the way to the gates, if not to the castle door.

Even with the relative safety, you never slept on your trips if you could help it, catching just a few hours as needed. A small shield covered the cabin the entire journey, and after the driver said they were comfortable with the magic, you let it cover them as well. At least it managed to keep out some of the cold. 

Soon enough, you passed through the city gates, then - the Castle loomed ahead of you. The carriage halted in front of the gates, a guard peered in through the window shooting a smile your way and waving you inside without another question. 

You’d met him the last time you were here, and wished you’d at least remembered his name. You made a note to ask later. You were reluctant to wake Ceri, with her looking so peaceful, but you did, gently squeezing her shoulder.

“We’re here.” 

She perked up, throwing the blanket off her, face pressed against the window. One hand swiped away the condensation, wiping again as her breath fogged the window. She wasn’t this excited earlier, pestering you about how long you’d have to be here. It was easy to figure out why, peeking over her to get your own look out the window. Three of her friends were waiting there, a good distance away from Rowan and Aelin, but you could spot them. 

Your heart warmed. 

“Make sure you at least say hello to your father,” you reminded her. She sent you an offended look, and you only raised your brows. 

-

Rowan watched as Ceri jumped out of the carriage, her gaze going to his right. He knew exactly who was waiting for her over there. But, you shot her another look, and instead she sprinted right to you and Aelin, barreling into him. 

He’d gotten used to that, to her throwing her entire body weight into him. The first time it caught him off guard. She was stronger than any ten year old had a right to be. He shouldn’t have been surprised, you used to do that when they met up, flinging yourself into his arms. 

At a slower pace, you followed behind her. 

Ceri hugged Aelin, and bounced on her feet, eyes darting behind them. Where he knew three other children were waiting, a respectful distance away. 

“Go say hello to your friends,” he told her and she shot off without another word. 

Aelin wrapped you into a warm hug, squeezing until you let out an oof, complaining you couldn’t breathe. 

You stiffened as Rowan wrapped his own arm around your shoulders, squeezing you into his side. Had he never done that? It felt .. natural, he almost released you - momentary panic setting in that he might’ve made you feel uncomfortable, but you wrapped your arm around his waist, giving a quick squeeze back before stepping away. Nothing seemed tense or on edge, in fact you still looked perfectly relaxed. Thank the Gods. 

Aelin linked her arm through yours, talking about the book you’d mentioned in your most recent letter. As soon as you scribbled in a line about it, that Aelin might like it, she set out to find it. Three bookstores in Orynth later, Aelin had located it and devoured it in two days. 

Gods, he’d even found her reading it in the bath. 

“I should send this to Dorian,” she announced. After closing the book, in a daze for ten minutes before she finally spoke. Rowan learned the hard way not to interrupt that phase. 

“A trashy romance novel?” 

“It is not,” Aelin hissed. 

“So I didn’t find you in the bath …” Wind suffocated the fiery dagger thrown his way. 

“Scandalizing the King of Adarlan is always amusing.”

“Does he even read them?” 

Aelin shrugged. 

-

Aelin and Rowan weren’t quite as subtle as they thought they were. They’d obviously done some research and snooping on houses before the two of you arrived, and you found it endearing and helpful. 

“What do you think about this area?” Aelin traced her finger over a spot on the map. 

“I haven’t exactly seen it,” you shot her a smile. “Tell me about it.” 

A moment of shock, but she did tell you everything she knew. Neighbors close enough you could vaguely see them, but not hear them. That’s a plus in your book. Most of the surrounding neighbors already planted a few gardens. A few houses were up for sale, the owners eager to get rid of them. Apparently there’d been a big push to move into the city, into the hustle of people. It’s still close enough to the city, within walking distance of a few schools. 

You noticed that although it’s on the outskirts of Orynth, it’s located closer to the castle. It makes sense, considering Ceri will still be spending plenty of time there. 

“We should go take a look around.” 

Aelin’s eyes lit up. You liked that. 

“Tomorrow?” She offered. 

“Tomorrow.” 

“Are we inviting Rowan?” 

That, you didn’t know how to answer. “I’ll leave it up to your discretion.” 

Turquoise eyes fixed on you, and it took everything not to break her stare. “A girls trip sounds nice.” You tried not to let out a huge sigh of relief. “Besides, he’ll likely terrify everyone we come across.” 

You offered a half-smile, your sentiments were the same. That might be pushing a line. Lines you were very careful to balance. Gods, you’d practically made neutrality an art form over the years. 

-

You bundled up, pushing a pair of mittens into a protesting Ceri’s hands. 

“Do you want frostbite?” You kept the exasperation out of your voice. She snatched them from you, shoving them onto her hands, as you wound a scarf around her neck. It wasn’t actively snowing, but Terrasen winters were brutal. A grinning Aelin waited for you just past the castle doors. The two of you each linked one of Ceri’s arms. A good strategy to keep her from sprinting off. 

She led you through the city, you’d hit the sweet spot in the morning - less people on the streets, less to gawk and stare, and she knew every back road and alley. It might take you a while to get used to the city, considering none of the roads made any sense. Scratch that, it would. They all lead in nonsensical directions, sometimes looping back on each other. 

“I’ll need a map for a few weeks,” you commented. 

“I’ll get one for you.” Aelin grinned, leading you through the city gate, and to the right, tracing back along the wall. You figured it had been a twenty minute walk so far, and sure enough five minutes later the small houses began to grow, and Ceri began bouncing. 

A few for sale signs, and you opened your senses - looking for spots of residual magic. Where some magic wielders might have lived for a while. The area was brimming. Beautiful and ancient. 

This was as good of a time as any for a lesson. 

“Ceri,” you caught her attention. The two of you had let her go, making her promise to stay within ten paces. She stopped and turned, bright green eyes staring at you, before bounding back towards you. “See what you can feel.” 

Her eyes squeezed shut. “Eyes open.” 

She scowled, but listened. It was a crutch, and although you let it help at first, you knew she didn’t need it anymore. Her eyes scanned the perimeter, fingers wiggling beneath the mittens. 

“A lot of magic. Old.” 

“What else?” A long pause, but you waited. Aelin was silent beside you, watching curiously. You kept your focus on Ceri. 

“It’s mostly from humans.” She was looking back at the various fields, now overgrown with grasses. Farmers used to live here, in masses. 

“Good,” you grinned at her. She looked nearly identical to Rowan, but that was your mother’s grin on her face. Ceri led the way this time, spotting the houses with “for sale” signs. 

You could tell Aelin was brimming with questions, so you started. “It’s the first thing I learned as well.” 

“Sensing magic?” 

You hummed. 

“Is there a big difference between Human and Fae magic?”  

“It’s subtle,” you admitted. “But it’s a good thing to know.” To know who you’re facing. 

“How does your magic work?” She probed. 

“I have the basic shielding, myself and others,” that was the easy part to explain. “I use magic to put … intention into different materials,” you huffed a laugh. It always sounds ridiculous when you put it like that. In reality, it’s a bit more complex than that, but that’s the easiest way to describe it. 

“It lets you sense other magic.” 

“Most of us can,” you countered. 

“But more than others.” 

“I haven’t had a chance to compare,” it’s true, plus you had no desire to. Few knew the extent of your magic, and most of them were dead. You preferred it that way. 

“Intention,” she murmured - thinking aloud. “Like that dagger?” 

“I didn’t create it,” you said, slipping into neutrality, hand slowly drifting over your cheek. You avoided looking at her. 

“Is there something else different about it?” 

Yes, but nothing that has to be said. Still, this was an opportunity for you to show you trust her. Trust, of course, has to be earned, but giving a small show of it - even just providing a bit of extra information like this, could make a difference in the future. A small thread tugged at you, encouraging you to share. The Goddess who’d always guided you. Listening was the only option. 

“That particular one was created by an ancestor of mine. I don’t know who. Those daggers are more common than you’d think, most don’t know what they are. Usually intended for … ritual magic, tattooing, scarring,” you still couldn’t meet her gaze. “They used to be common practice. I don’t know how that male got that specific one, and it had worried you more than you cared to admit. But he was dead, they were destroyed. “It’s an object a collector probably would’ve loved.” 

“Are there a lot of those in circulation?” 

“Two less now,” you said without thinking, wincing before clearing your throat. “Made by my family? Very few.” Five were made actually, and you knew where one was, but the other two were still lost. The next part you hesitated, but one extra tidbit couldn’t hurt. “It’s not exactly illegal to create them on the Southern Continent, but highly frowned upon.” 

“Is that why you destroyed them?” 

“No,” you couldn’t lie to her. Silence radiated between the two of you, her surprise palpable. Aelin was waiting, waiting to see if you’d keep speaking. That wall started to surge, to form itself around your mind, to block, block, block, but this time you pushed back against it, a firm hand lowering it. Not to the ground, but so you could see past it. Finally, you looked at her. No judgment, just curiosity. 

“You don’t have to share, if you don’t want to.” 

Did you want to? Not particularly, but that stupid little thread tugged again. Mentally, you muttered a sorry at calling it stupid. 

“That one was special. It scars as intended, yes, but any blood it encounters … if the victim has magic, some of it will transfer inside of the blade. Just a trace, nothing someone would miss, but enough to have other uses.” 

You’d had too much time to think about it, to think on what it could mean. If someone had a dagger with your magic, even a hint of it … a weapon with the ability to throw magic into other objects? It doesn’t limit itself either, it would’ve kept on building the more victims it crossed. If the wielder knew how to use it correctly, they could potentially use it to throw someone elses magic into another person. One of your family’s daggers, objects missing for too long, thrown into circulation just as a large upheaval occurred. Just as everything changed again. It’s not something that could be completely ignored, even from Terrasen. But, some things were your burden to carry. Consequences passed through time and generations. 

“Good you destroyed them,” Aelin said quietly. A glance at her, and you knew her mind went the same way yours did. 

“They were originally used for healing,” you felt the need to defend your family’s legacy. You didn’t want to give the impression that they’d created an object with the intention for harm. 

“Sounds like it could’ve been a great tool.” 

“It was, for some time.” 

Gods, you were sharing too much now. Ceri saved the day, bounding back towards you and pointing to the house. 

“It’s perfect.” 

Not huge, but not small. From the outside, everything looked fine. Glancing at the price, you knew there had to be a catch. A bit of fixing up, you could handle. But if the roof was about to fall down? That would be a no. 

You looked underneath the price, squinting your eyes. To a good home.

An older male ambled out, spying the three of you eyeing it. 

As he led you through the house, you got the sense you were being interviewed, and answered all of his questions honestly, explaining what you were looking for in a home. 

“What do you want it to become?” 

Aelin looked at you from the corner of her eyes, but the male’s keen gaze, piercing brown eyes, were fixed on you. 

“A home for my daughter and I,” Ceri clutched your hand tighter, glancing between you and the other male. “Somewhere her friends can visit,” you squeezed her hands, “and relax.” 

“Have a lot of friends, do you?” 

Ceri nodded, and started rambling about the things they’d done yesterday. He listened patiently, commenting in all of the right places, and you could tell Ceri was taken with him. He did have a grandfatherly aspect to him. 

“Well,” he cleared his throat. “There’s some mice sometimes, you’ll need a cat.” 

“We have one,” Ceri piped. 

“That’s perfect then,” he patted her shoulder. “It’s yours if you want it,” he looked up to you. Now, three pairs of eyes were on you. 

“We’d be honored.” 

The words felt … right. You’d learned the home had been in his family for generations, but he was the last of them. He didn’t need to tell you what happened to his family, but he said he’d been the last occupant of the home, and would be moving into the city with a friend. 

“Are they a special friend?” 

“Ceri,” you hissed. 

“It’s alright,” he chuckled, looking at you with a hint of amusement. You replied with an apologetic grimace. “All friends are special.” 

You squeezed your daughter's hand, telling her now is not the time. Thankfully, she kept her mouth shut. She’s at the age where a filter is a foreign concept to her, and any question seems appropriate. 

Turn around would take about ten days. He’d left you all of the furniture, all of the kitchen ware, nearly everything, even a collection of what looked to be ancient books. It almost seemed too good to be true … but, this time, an instinct told you to accept something good happened. That it happened without a greater cost. That you were worthy of good things. 

-

Aelin’s mind had wandered during the rest of your ‘girls trip.’ She half paid attention to the tour and conversations, enough so she knew what was going on if asked a question. But, her mind drifted to what you told her. She’d watched as you froze up, as you hesitated, but then told her anyway. As you showed trust in her. Trust with things you probably hadn’t told another person. There was still more to the story, but when she saw how uncomfortable you grew, common sense told her pushing wasn’t worth any potential knowledge she might acquire. 

She was correct that someone from your bloodline created it. First the admission of the type of dagger, then how the ones your family created were different. Something a collector would’ve loved. 

They were used for healing at some point, then stolen. At least that was what she picked up on. Her mind trailed to why you would’ve destroyed them, destroyed a family heirloom. Blood. Magic. Your magic - imbuing. 

Victim’s magic store itself. Enough to have other uses.

Very few. Two less. There’s still more. And you don’t know where they are, or she has a feeling you would’ve tracked them down by now. Aelin had a decent read on you at this point, and she’s well aware you wouldn’t let something like that exist in the world. 

Could those daggers have a history? Could she find mentions of them somewhere? You didn’t say relative, you said ancestor. 

She needed to talk to Rowan.

-

Rowan could tell Aelin was nearly bursting at the seams with something. She waited until it was the two of them, you and Ceri already off to bed, before sharing. 

He sat on the new wealth of information Aelin had learned. Moreover, he was shocked you’d shared all of that. It was more than you would’ve told him … would’ve told him in the past. There’s other reasons why you wouldn’t have shared that with him before. Still, if he’d asked the question would you have answered? A useless question, considering he wouldn’t ask you. He recognized you wouldn’t have told Aelin this if you didn’t expect he’d hear of it as well. 

It wasn’t meant to be hidden from him, just to be heard second hand. It felt like a consolation prize. 

“Is she worried about it?” He finally said, his pause giving the impression he was thinking the information over.

“Not excessively,” she shifted, stretching her legs out over his lap. Absentmindedly, thumb ran circles into her calf, loosening the tense muscles. A small purr left her chest. She was silent, contemplative, for a few moments. “There’s more to it. I know there is.” 

“Aelin,” he paused his movements, catching her eyes, hoping to tell her not to dig into it. Based on the look in her eyes, that wouldn’t be a deterrent. “At least don’t push her. Let her come to you. It’s sensitive family history you’re digging into.” 

At least that’s the impression he got. Aelin described how you seemed reluctant, emphasizing how she didn’t pry much. Speaking about your family had always been difficult for you, one of the topics you were most evasive about, and he doubted that changed too much over the years. 

“I know.” 

-

For the first few days, you struggled to figure out how to fill your time.

 Last time you’d been here, everyone was snowed in for the majority of the time, but now there weren’t any restrictions or requirements to stay in the castle. Last time, your stay in Orynth felt temporary, even with the knowledge you’d be returning. It was also the first storm of the year, and an early one. Now you’d just hit december. Meaning Yulemas was quickly approaching. Peak season for you, to sell any kind of little crafts, but you didn’t have a space to work yet and working out of the castle didn’t feel right to you.

In the mornings and early afternoons, Ceri had lessons with the rest of her friends and a few teachers from the castle, so you took it on yourself to walk through the city, trying to memorize each street and back alley. That was a new kind of torture for you. Going alone made your explorations much longer, but it was important you learned how to find your way through without help, to not rely on anyone - besides the little map now becoming worn down and creased with how frequent you referenced it.  

Making your way back to the main square, the jingling of bells and a few festive tunes reached you first. 

A market. 

Evergreen wreaths lined the streets, accented by bows, pinecones, and all sorts of little decorations. Stalls and stalls of vendors selling their wares, all of them braving the cold. A few had flasks on their hips, ones they took a few sips from time to time. You smiled to yourself, that’s certainly a way to help keep the chill out. 

As it happens, you came across a woman selling little carvings, a list of different types propped up on her table. ‘Enchanted,’ had a line crossed through it. She wasn’t particularly busy, so you decided to be nosy. 

“Enchanted ones already sold?” 

She smiled ruefully, “aye, the normal provider’s temporarily out of business, don’t know when they’ll be back.” You realized she might be referencing you. “A female from Antica, now based in Terrasen, not sure where.”

“Are there others?” 

Her mouth pressed into a tight line. “Not particularly good ones.” 

“Out of those too?” Gods, you really were being nosy, but she didn’t seem to mind. 

“If they don’t feel right or genuine, I try not to sell them. I like the ones that already have a bit of magic in ‘em.” She narrowed her eyes at another stall across the way. You nodded, and she seemed in the mood to share today. “The seller’s out of Antica, don’t know how she got here, but it’s lowered the price.” She was speaking of you. 

“The price?” 

“I used to import.” 

“Oh.” 

Maybe you should’ve kept track of where some of your work ended up. 

“I try to keep the prices fair,” she sighed and leaned back in her seat, balancing it on two legs. “For the ones who look like they need it.” That, you could appreciate. “Makes me sell out quicker.” 

You hummed, maybe you could make a few before the seasons up. “I heard a rumor,” you started hesitantly, and her head tilted, eyes curious. “That she’ll be back in business, have something ready about a week before Yulemas.” 

Oh, you had her attention now. “Do you know her?” 

A small nod. “You don’t?” 

A shake of her head, but you’d caught her attention. “Always dealt with someone in the middle. A bit annoying,” you tried not to wince, “but safer for her that way, I can understand.” 

“I can put you in touch.” It can’t be that hard to pretend you’re actually the one in the middle. 

“Really?” She looked skeptical, and for good reason. 

Reaching into your pocket, you pulled out a small trinket. A small amulet, one of the last things made before you left Caraverre, and a design you hadn’t used before, but if she’s sold some of your things, she should recognize it as genuine. Carefully, you handed it to her, watching as she examined, eyes squinting to look at the tiny carvings. 

“She won’t have much stock, and not til week or so before the holiday, but I can put you in touch and see what she has.”

“Even a few would make a difference,” she reached out and handed it back to you, gingerly. Almost like she was holding a treasure. 

“Keep that one for yourself. I’ll come back and let you know.” 

“That would be much appreciated.” 

Based on your smile, and the way she undid the clasp, tucking the small necklace inside her coat, you knew she would. Keep it and not sell it. You’d need to wait a few more days before returning, maybe even up to a week. Just to give the impression you actually were someone in the middle. 

Feeling in high spirits, a good deed done for the day, you headed back to the castle, hoping there would only be a few wrong turns this time. 

-

Aelin reached an arm around pulling you into her side, a hug of sorts, but her arm lingered. Naturally, your head dropping to her shoulder. She squeezed further, and didn’t move. Aelin tugged you closer. Rowan didn’t look uncomfortable when you stole a look at him. In fact something like a smile ghosted across his face. You realized how much you’d missed touch and affection. Platonic touch and affection, just among friends. Reya had always been a big hugger, the two of you cuddling up next to each other on the couch. 

Something you’d never even thought might be necessary. But now that it was here … you found yourself clinging to it like a lifeline. Touch starved enough that even the smallest affection feels like a blessing, like a gift from the gods. 

Aelin sighed, and you relaxed your body further, letting the wine send you loosen you, giving yourself permission to feel this. To bask in this momentary peace. 

“You’re much better at this than Rowan.” An indignant huff from the offended male. “Take notes,” Aelin teased him, drawing a laugh from you and a half-hearted glare from the other male. 

“And you’ve had a lot of wine,” you countered Aelin, but didn’t move. She’d initiated it … and if she felt uncomfortable, you’d let her move away. Maybe you should, maybe this is crossing some invisible line the wine haze is keeping you from recognizing, but it felt so right. 

“Am I a better cuddler than Fenrys?” 

This time, you did laugh. Aelin is definitely competitive. “I wouldn’t know.” 

She seemed pleased, and matter of fact, so did Rowan. You’re imagining it, for certain. In the morning you’d swear he never looked like that. Swear it was a figment of your imagination. 

As much as Fenrys made jokes about it, this hadn’t happened with him. Right now, you didn’t want it to, maybe you wanted to claim her as your official cuddle-friend. It’s the wine. Aelin wasn’t yours to claim, not in any way. Besides, you don’t believe in belonging to others. You belong to yourself, and that’s it. That’s the way it’s always been, and how it will always be. 

A part of you still lingered, still wondered what it would be like to have a mate. To forge a bond so deep, such a permanent and everlasting connection, one that could cross worlds and eternity, to love and be loved so deeply that separation was unbearable - that separation would tear your soul into tiny bits. 

Not the love of a mother and daughter, the love of two people meant to bind their souls together. Meant to claim each other equally. 

Could a bond like that be forged, or was it some kind of gift? Given just to those deemed worthy of it? 

It’s the wine. 

The odds are you’ll never know, and there’s no use in wasting time imagining it. 

taglist: @holb32 @moonlightttfae @cassianswh0reeee @reidishh @fussel9913 @abbyrose13 @brandywineeeee @acourtofbatboydreams (sorry it didn't let me tag everyone! you can comment on this or any others if you want to be added!

#rowaelin x reader #poly!rowaelin x reader #throne of glass fic #rowan whitethorn x reader #aelin galathynius x reader #rowaelin x y/n #poly!rowaelin x y/n #throne of glass x reader #rowan whitethorn x y/n #aelin galathynius x y/n

[grapejuicestyless]

i’m rlly sad summers gone but like I have a winter request for conrad so we good !!

fem reader (conklinnn ofc) and conrad used to date but then had a messy breakup so now everyone is in college and yn doesn’t have anywhere to go because everyone is off doing something for winter break so she takes stevens car and drives down to the summer house and conrad shows up a day later and she’s freaking out. They both stay there the whole week and romantic feelings and nostalgia builds up again 🤌🏻

you can add some of your own stuff too because your soooo creative and your work is golden!! thank you:)

Peace.

Conrad Fisher x fem!reader

Angst to fluff!

Summery: After a hard loss, both in a relationship and with the severing of the ties of her past, Y/n must learn to let go in order to gain what she so desperate wants back.

Snowfall is always overlooked. People see it as more of an inconvenience than as a gift. Each little white flake falling from the sky seems like nothing more than a mushy ball of frozen water made to block the roads and keep kids out of school, but the closer you look the more complex they are.

What was once so horrible becomes something beautiful, something unique. There is no other thing like it, each flake is different even by one branch in the pattern. It’s sad how many people are so quick to dismiss it and pout out their windows. White was never their favorite color and the cold was never their favorite temperature.

At this time of year, I usually considered myself lucky. I had a family who cherished each snowfall and a mother who would have hot-coco ready on the table for when our red cheeks and icy hair would become too much and we would finally come back inside to melt and warm up again. Each winter break my younger siblings, Steven and Belly would be attached at my hip. Having an older sister who only grew more and more, our time together always felt limited. So we spent each day in the living room. Playing the Wii with Steven and Barbies with Belly. I would read with my mom and cook with my dad. It was all so perfect. My favorite time of the year.

I used to joke with Conrad that college didn’t hold the same amount of excitement around the season because people were just as bitter and cold all year round. I called him cold hearted too because he thought it was funny. He laughed and kissed me then. I wonder if he would laugh now. Even if we no longer shared a stocking and cozied up by the fireplace impossibly close declaring our quiet loves for each other. I wonder if he still thinks fondly of the winter like I do now that it’s tainted with old memories of us.

Usually, during the winter I would drive down to Boston. It took some convincing for Laurel to allow her daughter to drive so far in such intense weather, but she knew where my heart belonged. It was the holidays and she was just as jolly as the rest of us, so she would always agree. There, I would bring gifts for all the Fishers. I didn’t have enough money to afford gifts and college, so everything was homemade. Every year I would apologize, but Susannah and Conrad always claimed to love it. Jeremiah wouldn’t say anything, but the smile on his face was always genuinely happy, so I think he liked them just as much.

Conrad would take my mitten clad hands after. Even covered in thick wool he managed to clasp his hands fully around mine, eager to get me alone. We’d slip away into his room, my cheeks red and eyelashes covered in snowflakes and his eyes wide and smile full. Behind closed doors, we could be as affectionate as we wanted without gags of jealousy disguised as disgust from Jeremiah or swooning from Susannah over how cozy we looked.

I remember how I believed my hips were made with dips so his hands could fit perfectly in them. How his arm rested on my waist so tight, I didn’t need a blanket because he kept me warm. No fireplace or layers of coats could light the flames in my heart and keep me warm in the coldest winters like Conrad could.

He said summer was his favorite season when he met me, but now he favored winter because it reminded him of me. I asked what would happen if something were to happen to us, just to tease him then. He got serious, I still remember the look on his face when he told me I would always be his favorite thing. How winter would forever remind him of me and no matter what, nothing could change that fact.

It was our own little secret oasis. A utopia of our own confined within the four walls of his childhood bedroom. When it snowed, we’d play in the snow like children and when it stormed we’d make forts to watch our favorite winter movies. It was a dream I never wanted to end, I was foolish to think it wouldn’t.

By spring, it felt like he was tired of me, of who I was. No amount of effort could keep Conrad beside me. I became someone he wasted his time on rather than someone he begged to be around. My skin was like fire to his touch, his eyes avoidant. It all came to a head when I broke down in late May.

“Why, why am I not enough?” I begged him then, I wanted to know what my problem was. Why I couldn’t be more than what I was now. Why we couldn’t go back.

He shrugged his shoulders, looking past my left shoulder. He looked distant. He knew it just as well as I did, we were walking on eggshells.

“Because you’re just not.” His words were bitter, knives stabbing me through the heart and ripping out. There was no reason, he didn’t even try to make the gashes in my heart better.

“Bullshit. I do everything for you! I give you everything!” It came out more as a question than a statement. I wasn’t as sure about what I once believed so firmly now that Conrad was showing how he felt.

“I guess it wasn’t enough then.” His eyes were watering. We were already talking in the past tense, we were over. He didn’t have to say it, neither did I. It was as clear as the freckles on his face, there was no amount of mending that could pull us back together.

In my mind I could only remember those final words we spoke to each other. The first hour of our long argument was washed from my mind for my own sake. What should’ve been tattooed permanently in my brain was gone the second we were over. Maybe if I could remember it fully, each insult and every word he used to put me down and make me feel small, I would’ve been able to feel justified in my anger. I could talk shit with my friends, shit on him to my mother. But even in my heartache, I couldn’t find reasons to be mad at him.

Conrad always went through so much on his own. It would be selfish of me to believe that he was completely okay when things ended. It was messy and sudden the way it happened. He was the biggest dick to me, but I couldn’t blame him for what he did. Not then, not now. Part of me still loved him. Part of me would still die for him in secret. He was my first love, all I knew when it came to my feelings. I let him rule my heart, my decisions. I didn’t show up to Cousins that summer.

Now that it was over, no ties binding us together, no overbearing reason to drive down to Boston for the weeks leading up to the holidays where we’d all finally be together again, I have no where to go. Steven was old enough to be on his own now, a freshman at Princeton. One of his rich friends had dropped by within the first twenty four hours to drag him off to his families vacation home. I hadn’t even set up the Wii yet. Belly, my littlest sibling who I adored more than anyone else I knew was more distant than Steven. The stress of deciding between Finch and Jeremiah or some state school with the guarantee of being on volleyball was eating her alive. Back then, I would’ve told her not to lose sight of her dreams and life because of some boy, but here I was doing the same thing. I stayed quiet and let her decide what she wanted.

My mom was gone just like Steven. Away to talk about her book with other critically acclaimed writers and producers. My dad was out of the picture. He wouldn’t be back until Christmas morning. He was never really present after the divorce, but he’s a good man and he tries his best. He just works a lot. It hurts to not be able to enjoy the holidays like I used to, but I can respect why everyone’s away.

Somehow, I end up in Stevens drivers seat. I’ve never had a car of my own. While Steven spent weeks searching the internet for a cheep car, I spent my time studying for finals and applying to colleges. I never had the time. He gave me his keys before he left. He said I could take his car anywhere I wanted as long as I didn’t ruin it. Each dent in it, I would owe him ten bucks. It wasn’t much, but to a struggling college student, ten dollars in my bank account might as well have been him asking for hundreds.

“Belly, I’m heading out. Call me if you need me, okay? I might not be back for awhile.” The words I chose were ominous. I didn’t tell her where I was going, why I was going or how long I’d be exactly, but she didn’t care enough to ask. So I climbed into Stevens car and let my playlist shuffle. I imagine myself in the situations my favorite artists write about and sing along like I can relate to their upper class parties and juvenile activities. It keeps my mind off of where I’m going.

It’s not like I got in the car set on heading to the one place that once swore to never step foot near again, but when I recognize the signs on the highway pointing me in the same direction, I’m suddenly set on it.

The sting of the breakup lingered like a tattooed kiss, a reminder of something so special that was now gone. I wouldn’t let him ruin the place that was once so special to our families.

Pulling up to that driveway, I remember how the weeds would grow over the gravel by July and how Steven and Jeremiah would stay out for hours plucking at them to make Susannah happy. How the grass held the imprints of our small bodies rolling around the hills and daffodils. The sand was forever glued into the fabric of our favorite t-shirts and the salt air is what we smelled of until December washed it away.

We were always so close here. Despite the rifts and the problems that happened between us. Not blow out fight or silent treatment could ever separate the Conklin’s and the Fishers from each other for long.

I looked back on how I felt at home. How together was something that I never even questioned. Steven would be by the fireplace yelling at the television and Belly would be begging him to quiet down. Laurel would be curled up in the corner scribbling things into a notepad and dad would try to sneakily move the elf on the shelf.

We were older now. The wii wasn’t all that special and Belly longed for the chaos she once hated. Steven preferred his friends and mom and dad fell out of love so mom could learn to love her work more.

I pulled into the large house through the garage. I knew the code by heart, it was my phone passcode. I figured that if I wanted to stay attached to homeliness so badly I could be where I learned what love was the best.

In my head, even now I always believed that no matter how long it would go untouched, the summer home would always be bright and warm. Smelling of Susannah’s candles and Belly’s sticky iced teas.

Stepping through the front door, it was dark and cold. My breath was less visible than in the outside, but the light and heat didn’t bounce from wall to wall like it always did.

It took me a few minutes to find the correct switch to turn up the heat. I cranked it until my socks burned on my feet and a sweat covered the top of my forehead. It was comfortable, I could sink into my own chunky sweater.

It was my mothers, the blue and white striped sweater I wore. She was gifted it by Susannah in their late college years but it never quiet fit her because she was so short. It fit big, but it didn’t sag at my knees or gather at my wrists as much. It smelled like my mom and reminded me of Pennsylvania skies.

The warmth from the heat and the comfort from my clothes set me in a slump, my eyes drooped. I hadn’t even turned on any lights yet, hadn’t gone up to my room to make the bed. I was sat in place on the permanently indented couch. Though my body curled into the spot where I always laid during movie nights, my head fell where Conrad’s lap would’ve been. To imagine we were all just as happy, as close made me feel fuzzy. If I tried hard enough I could even hear his voice. Calling for me, like a dream.

The sun peaked through the windows and the dust that collected on the once neatly kept glass projected tiny shadows and spots across the hardwood floor. The couch was warm with my body heat and other than the faint whisper of the wind, it was peaceful.

A melodic whistle blowed through the open gap between the living room and the kitchen. It was smooth yet broke when the song grew too high for the deeper voice that carried the tune.

Rubbing at my eyes, my feet swung out from under my thighs, I wiped away any drool or signs of slumber. Still, clearing my complexion did not rid my body of the tired achey feeling and the small blurring of my vision. My brain was following behind my body, every caution sign to who was here at this time thrown to the wind.

Mugs clanked together clumsily, my nose burned with the strong scent of coffee beans. It was chillier in the morning here than how I had left it at night, I could feel the tip of my nose turning red and growing colder.

A taller boy stood hunched over the countertops, a spoon clinking around softly as he stirred around something in the mug. His shirt hung loose on his body but his pants fit just right.

His hair was wavy, but only just at the ends. Under the strong smells of early morning caffeine, I could faintly still pick up the scent of sea salt and a spice I couldn’t name. It was vanilla like but also had a lingering smell of oak and woods. It was my favorite smell.

“Conrad..?” It clicked in my brain that the handsome boy hanging around the summer home wasn’t some pick me up sent from heaven. The reason behind my instant admiration for such a simple, domestic task was because of how well I knew and once loved the boy. The name fell from my lips quietly, like I couldn’t believe it was true.

Spinning around, I met his blue eyes. I watched his lips twitch, fighting against some kind of emotion from spreading across his face and the light in his eyes falter. He looked blank, unaware of how his lack of enthusiasm of our reuniting was crushing me inside.

“Figured you’d want coffee.” He was right. He still knew me like the back of his own hand and that was the worst part. I hadn’t changed, I never would. He would always know me and it hurt to know I trusted him like that at one point just for him to leave. He even made it in my favorite mug.

A light blue ceramic mug that still had Belly and Conrad’s fingerprints in the clay and visible brush strokes across the top. They made it for me when we were still little. It was my favorite gift from her because they made it as an apology. For breaking my old vase I made for my mom in art class. They meant to harm and felt horrible, I cherished their kindness more than anything.

“No…no. I’m all set.” Crossing my arms and clearing my throat, I set my eyes on the ground and leaned against the doorframe on the wall. We didn’t speak after that, he didn’t move. Sucking in his lips, I heard him sigh almost disappointedly.

“So…” He tried to start, I was too scared to listen. Not of him, god I could never be scared of him. But of what he could want to say.

My eyes flicked over the dents in the floor, I discovered marks I hadn’t seen before. Just when I thought I had everything memorized. When I thought I knew everything, when I thought I knew him.

“You know, uhm…I think I’m going to settle in.” Nodding at him quickly, I all but ran to the stairs. My hands gripped at the banister so quickly, I felt skin pull skin. It tore just under my fingers beginning, the top of my palm. I swore I heard him call after me, but maybe it was the ringing in my ears.

I came here to get away. In search of some solace, I grasped at the tattered strands of my childhood to find that I had held on too long. In my own journey, by some sort of fate, I dragged along a deeper part of those memories with me.

I spent that morning stowed away in my bedroom. I left the door ajar. The air was chilly still, and the air dusty. The heat had rarely been used. Only on the rare occasions in which Susannah would find reason to escape down to the beautiful town of Cousins. Simply to watch the early snowfalls or sparkling lights decorating the center of the town. Usually when I would get settled into my own room in the summer home, each knickknack would be thrown carelessly over the bureau top and shoved in the forever empty bedside table drawers. I would procrastinate making my bed last. I hated the damned fitted sheets and the wrinkles I couldn’t flatten for days. I hated the way that the corners never stayed. My body stretched as far as it would go, yet I could never quiet hook the fabric far enough to keep it settled.

Today was no different. My blood boiled the same, but it mixed with an unfamiliar warmth. How endearing it was to be able to relive such a memorable moment of my summers again even after tragedy struck the once uniting household.

“Fuck.” The sheets flipped up. The full sized mattress was far too wide to allow my arms to stretch across the full width of its body and hook the corners over far enough to where they wouldn’t slip. Each move resulted in a different kind of release with the bedsheets. Each time I ended up wrapped up in the thin cotton sheets.

The clock ticking on my bedside table taunts me. Reminds me of how long I’ve been tangled around in my bed. If it weren’t so humiliating, I would’ve asked for help. But I created a mess. My feelings, one’s that Conrad had so clearly buried as he was able to be kind and cordial towards me while I panicked like a fish out of water. So I hop around from corner to corner desperate to finish my task.

“Y/n?” The name burns the way it rolls off of his tongue. Like even with me gone, he had practiced pronouncing it in the mirror, whispered it to himself each night. It was like we’d seen each other the day before, the way it came out. Breathless and light.

The moon hung over the house, illuminating thin strips of shine through the windows that led from the floor to the very bed I was sprawled across.

Sighing heavily, I threw my head back. Hair fell in front of my face, tickling the bridge of my nose. I saw Conrad hesitate. His hand flinched out from where it was tucked behind the doorframe. He set it on the white wood frame.

“Can I help?” It was innocent enough. Maybe he was sick of the sound of my knees rubbing against the mattress. Or the way I grunted every few minutes. I stumbled around my room all day fixing it up, I almost forgot how loud it could’ve been.

It felt sour to accept it. Even if it were as innocent and kind as it seemed. Conrad had a glimmer of hope in his eye and his lips upturned. He looked so handsome still, nose pinker from the slight chill and eyes still just as deep blue.

“No thank you.” I huffed. I tried to sound annoyed, something that was hard to do when you weren’t really all that annoyed at all. Resistant was the only similar thing I could place a name to. I saw the wag Conrad’s smile faltered, his eyes looming with a dark shadow, masking the vibrant sparkle.

“Come on, don’t be so stubborn, please? You’ve been at it for hours, just let me help.” Stubborn. Just like my mother and his. Each of us were always set to do things on our own. But this was far more than just genetics at this point. This was my own grudge I was holding. This was my pride and my responsibility over my emotions acting. No matter how nice the gesture, I still refused, gnashing my teeth.

“Oh, so suddenly you care?” It was a lot more mean than I meant it. I know how much Conrad cares. How much he always has. He doesn’t have the best way to show for it, but in the end you always know it. It was a mistake, an instant regret. I watched how his face contorted. He wasn’t just disappointed now, but genuinely hurt by my own dig at his insecurities.

His whole life, Conrad always feared he wasn’t enough. He couldn’t give enough, couldn’t be enough. He always talked himself down, creating a false standard in which everyone else was above him, out of his league. He was insecure. He didn’t need reassurance, he knew what kind of love was real and what was fake, but the fact that maybe I had thought the same crushed him. I could tell.

His silence hung over us so heavy, a knife could slice it. His jaw stuttered and his eyes blinked slow. A loss for words. I wish he could just yell at me. Fuel my fire, make me feel less bad about what I said. Less guilty about the fact I couldn’t get over us when he could. Conrad didn’t deserve my emotional daggers directed at his heart simply because we split. I know Conrad, I always have. His method of leaving was cruel, but the boys heart was in the right place always.

“Fuck!” The sheet snapped back. I had enough. In all seriousness, I should’ve stopped to talk to the boy who was so clearly hurt by the door. A girl, a guest in a house that once felt just as much as hers as his was there in a now occupied room throwing insults unprovoked when he was trying to be nice.

Standing, I stumbled past him clumsily again, taking a spare blanket that hung off the end of the bed with me. I couldn’t take it. His stares, the silence, the sheet, my own guilt, my thoughts. I needed to be out of that sickened room.

“Y/n…” Again, the call was faint. A whisper in my head whose only goal was to make me stop. I didn’t turn. It was unfair, the whole thing. To me, to Conrad. I decided to sleep on the couch.

My back ached. The plush cushioning under my back too soft, too worn in. A good remedy, a great place for a quick nap. But it hurt after more than a few hours. The fabric rubbed harshly, the pillows sunk in. My hips popped when I stood.

The sun was shining through the windows, air crisp. Heat finally reached all corners of the large house and the cob webs were finally swept away. The magic of summer wasn’t there, but it felt homely. A good alternative to the sad loneliness of my own bedroom at home.

The house was still, the kitchen untouched and an empty mug in the sink. It was stained in a ring from where the old drink had been and had little brown streaks from where the coffee dripped off of the sides. The counter tops were cold, despite the heat inside. The floor was quiet, there was no shuffling. It led me to believe that the only other occupant was still asleep.

Heading up the stairs, I picked at my old clothes. The discomfort came from multiple things. The way my clothes stuck to my body, my teeth didn’t feel right in my mouth. My hair was knotted. I looked fine, but nothing felt right. The only way to describe it was that when waking up after a rough couple of nights, it felt like my skin didn’t fit right over my bones.

My door was wide open. The hinges bent all the way back, the light bled through the curtains. My already slow steps came to a halt when the threshold fell behind my legs. My bed was decorated with the same blue floral design it always had during the summers.

The pillows were placed where I always had them, and my blankets were hung so neat on the bottom of my bed. My fingers ran over the soft fabric like it wasn’t really mine. Like I was admiring a sample from a store, wishing it were mine. It was always so pretty.

My thumb hooked over the folded edge very carefully. I didn’t want to mess with the perfectly made bed. More importantly, I didn’t want to crease the remaining hand prints that laid in the center of the bed.

The plushy duvet left residue from bigger hands. Spread along the bends, from the center down. Proof that someone had truly tried their best to perfect it.

Looking under the top, not only had each layer been placed, but the fitted sheet. I could see it now with all its layers peeled back. The thought that even after my initial attempts to push away, to be mean, to hurt him, that Conrad had still wanted to help me made me feel warm. I wasn’t sure why my heart was fluttering for a boy I swore I hated. But my cheeks were red and my knees felt weak. I always did love his acts of service.

I didn’t plan on showering, but my skin was sticky with sleep and my heart was pounding too fast. I hated the fact that Conrad was too good for everyone in his own special ways. I hated the way he still cared and the way he remained so observant even in our absence. Most of all, I hate the way I reach for his shampoo in the shower. Longing for the scent of him to linger on me for just a little longer. How funny it is that we’ve changed so quickly and yet not at all. We used to share our hair products. He kept a hair tie for me in his bedside table. I had a drawer of clothes in his room, he had some in my closet. He went from my everything to just something in my life. Yet, with all this change I still reach for the familiarities of what we once had. My hand still searches the shower for his conditioner. My feet still take me to his door to find a shirt I like. What we had is gone, crushed under the weight of our separation, but my muscle memory pulls me back. The heart is a muscle, one that forever beats for Conrad Fisher.

I sit in the corner for longer than I lather the soap across my skin. My body is curled up against the cold tiles. I feel pathetic doing so. How small I’ve made myself. Not only mentally, but physically. I feel weak at how little self control I have. I think back on the past year of my life and I regret each decision I’ve made leading me here suddenly.

Was I not enough for Conrad? I know it’s not his reasoning behind his leaving, but I feel like the theory becomes more and more plausible the longer I think back on how lonely I’ve been. So stuck on my own problems, I forget how little I see my family. How Belly has grown without me. Her friends, her lovers. She is independent, she knows her path. Steven has matured. He understands feelings, he’s valedictorian. His brains lead him through life, he no longer comes to me at midnight to ask for help with math. I no longer review his essays or read his made up stories in the living room. We are two different siblings who once spent every moment together. My mother is nose deep in her own promotion with her books. She is succeeding while my father is going on dates and moving on. I am stuck in the same spot, forever thinking of the past, I can not move on.

I am scared by the knowledge that my family is no longer dependent on me. A scab is forming over the wound of the fact that Conrad has left, I am not needed. I hope the warm water fading into a cooler drizzle will hide the way my eyes are puffy and red. The streaks of water on cheeks will become streams of the shower. I am strong and resistant like my parents, but I am scared to admit that I have real fears. Ones that control my life. I will never tell them how I breakdown, how my heart is breaking and I am falling off the pedestal.

It’s more lively now then it was just an hour ago. The birds are gone, on vacation away in the warmer weather while the cold covers New England in a chilling blanket. I hear the mugs clattering from the hallways and the soft humming passing through his pink lips. He hears me before he sees me.

“Coffee?” He motioned to the brown liquid, steaming while it poured into the glass pitcher. Rubbing beneath my eyes, I could feel the weight of my eye bags heavy on my skin. My throat was coarse, hands aching from how hard I had grasped onto the shower walls. I hid behind the island counter on the stool. My body curled up into the baggy clothes covering my body, my knees hugging into my chest as close as possible.

“Yes, please.” I mumbled softly, trying not to show any weaknesses. Conrad knew me better than that. The way my lip twitched into a fake smile, how my eyes were more avoidant that usual. Even in my heavy feelings, my eyes were always drawn to him. I was closing myself off.

A beat passed. Conrad’s attempt at conversation had fallen short, right by my feet.

“How’d you sleep?” He turned to me, freshly brewed coffee sloshing around in the same mug as yesterday. He placed it in front of me, but he turned away again to pour his own cup. It wasn’t to further distance himself, creating a divide all while I was shutting down, but to give me room to breathe in a space I was so clearly suffocating in.

“It was okay.” I sighed, hand holding my head, my eyes closed. I imagined myself laid with my back pressed against plush pillows and my childhood bedroom fairy lights hanging over my head. It was still winter, but the atmosphere in my daydream felt of summer.

“I’m glad, then. That it wasn’t so bad, I mean.” He corrected himself, afraid of a wrath inside of me that didn’t exist to him anymore. It never really had, my emotions had only been misplaced yesterday.

Often I’ve been told that my words shoot to kill when I’m mad. I insult and belittle myself more than others, but my mother has no problem with bringing up the few times I targeted my feelings at Steven or Belly. How little I made them feel, how guilty I felt. I threw up once, after yelling at Steven. He hadn’t cared for it, fighting was what siblings did. But remembering how I tried to hurt him made me sick. I felt the same after insulting Conrad.

Nodding my head, I pursed my lips into a thin line. My eyes blinked away any dryness, I inhaled a deep breath.

“Hey, uhm…thank you, by the way.” I pulled the sleeves of my sweater over my hands, hovering over the cup of coffee to revel in the hot steam hitting my face.

Conrad turned around, leaning against the counter. His hands pressed up behind him, firm but his face was soft, glad.

“I shouldn’t have…you didn’t deserve that.” My eyes flickered between the floor and the folding of my sleeves over my thumbs. My skin was cold, my hair wet on the back of my neck. I had a lump in my throat.

“Y/n?” His voice was gentle, closer than before. I saw his elbows press against the counter top, just mere inches away. I felt even more awkward, littler than before somehow.

I hummed. But the coarseness in my throat made it come out as more of a rumble. I choked on the growing lump, my nose burned.

“We don’t have to avoid each other.” He said it like that was so easy. Like everything was resolved by him simply stating that he didn’t want to face the consequences of our actions.

“I know.” I brought the edge of the mug to my lips and blew. Steam clouded my vision, the wet heat felt nice on my cheeks.

“Y/n.” He said more firmly.

He wasn’t angry, but he wanted my attention. My eyes flickered up to his. They were darker now. Swarmed with so many emotions, it was hard to grasp onto what he was feeling. I set the mug down.

“Please don’t avoid me.” He begged more softly, his hand hesitated to reach out to me. Once they clasped around mine, it was almost relieving. Having something familiar to ground me while I was only working myself up. “I miss you, I miss us. We were best friends and we haven’t even spoken in…I don’t even know how long. This, this is stupid. To be running in circles like this?”

“That’s easy for you to say.” This time, my words weren’t angry. They broke apart when I spoke. The sentence was raw, the lump in my throat broke through my clenched teeth and my nose heated up in an intense burn. My eyes were heavy, working hard to keep any tears at bay. Again, here I find myself in a different spot, practicing the same habits. I stand in front of Conrad angry, ready to hurt his ego and pierce a hole through his heart just to ease my own mind.

I wanted exactly what he did, to be as close. I missed him more than anything in my life ever, but it wasn’t so simple. He pleaded my name again, I pulled my hands out of his. His fingers were like a barbed wire. It suddenly stung to have him touching me.

“I just wish you would’ve acknowledged it, you know? I mean look at me, look at us. You’re fine, you’re happy. I can’t even look at you without wanting to cry.” When our hearts broke, they broke uneven. Conrad was left with a bruise why I was facing the pain of a bleeding scar across my own. He had been the one to cause the rift, he had been the one to bring up everyone’s insecurities, use them against our relationship.

“Y/n.” He whispered, reaching out to me again. I stood from the stool, keeping my distance. My tears were hot, they burned into my skin.

“You couldn’t even stand me, Conrad! And I couldn’t see it before, but I can now. You couldn’t even text me, no. No, but that’s not the worst part. Maybe it’s the fact that you couldn’t even show up to Stevens graduation because I was there.” He sighed, ready to defend himself. I look back on all the disappointed faces, I remember the way Steven frowned at that empty seat beside me and I feel angry.

“Do you know how hard it is to tell your baby brother that his hero couldn’t make it to his graduation because he can’t even stand to be around me? Do you know how sad he was when he started to walk up to the podium and saw your seat was empty? I recorded it and sent it to you, did you know that? I wasn’t going to, I didn’t think you deserved to have a part in one of the most important parts in Stevens life, but he begged me to. Tried to make me send it twice so you’d get it.” I took a deep breath, wiping away the tears by my eyes, more spilled. My face was wet with salt water and red with anger.

“So why don’t we go back to how things were before after you’ve fucked it all up!”

“It’s really fucking unfair of you to act like this hasn’t affected me at all either!” He finally shot back. He was never one to yell. Conrad always had some sort of control over his composure. He never yelled, he hated yelling.

“How, how can you say that after you’ve done nothing to fix anything!” Walking closer to him, I saw how he turned away to grip the counter between his fingers.

“People deal with shit differently, Y/n. Grow up!” He yelled. His eyes were wild, it should’ve scared me. But god, him telling me to grow up after all he put me through only made me angrier. I was fragile already. But not as a flower, but a bomb.

“Fuck you, Conrad.” My voice was shaky, but firm. I didn’t yell, my lack of volume was almost scarier than my inevitable rage. He looked up at me, it was like watching him realize how his words had betrayed him. He hadn’t meant for us to fight, to talk like this. He wanted to fix things. He wanted me back.

“Y/n.” He shook his head, walking closer to me, he bent away from the edges of the island to reach me quicker. His voice was laced with pity

“Stop saying my name!” I backed away, feet catching on the threshold, I slowed myself down. Each time he said it, it pulled on my heartstrings. How could he be so selfish to not even be able to see all the pain I’ve been put through!

“I’ve missed you ever since I left you! You think I don’t regret the way I treated you? I’m not naïve to my own stupidity, I know my mistakes, I’ve owned them. You were my everything, god you might as well have hung the stars!” He waved his hands around to animate what he was saying. It only stresses me out more.

“Then why? Why did you throw it all away!” My body began to crumble beneath me, my knees wobbled.

“Because I was scared! I was scared of losing you. I thought if I let myself become too obsessed, that if you decided to leave me I would never be able to get back up. I had to do it!” He confessed. It all made sense then. All my unanswered questions, all my insecurities of not being enough. Conrad hadn’t left because I couldn’t give him what he wanted. He left because he was scared of what would happen when I was gone. That he wasn’t enough.

“I wouldn’t have left you, Conrad. I wouldn’t have.” My palms hit my eyes, my knees started to give. A sob ripped through my throat. It hurt to breathe.

His arms were like a blanket. His hands still fit perfectly around my back. When he held me, it was tight. I knew it then that he wouldn’t be letting me go, not now. His shirt was wet with my tears, mine was wet with my hair. I felt stupid, naïve to think of Conrad in such bad ways when he had only been doing what he thought was best to protect his heart after loss after loss.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” I repeated it like a prayer, I didn’t mean to be so mean. I didn’t want to be rude to him, I wanted him to be close to me always. His heart was beating out of his chest when he nodded. He knew I never meant to fight him. We were both entitled to our feelings, there was no reason in trying to apologize for how we reacted.

His hand lifted to my head, brushing through my hair. He gathered a chunk in his palm, his knuckles gripping at it. It didn’t hurt, he didn’t intend for it to. He was breathing me in, holding onto me in every which way possible.

“It’s going to be okay, we’re going to be okay.” My sobs were muffling themselves, quieting down into soft whimpers. It took a lot to even nod my head against his shirt. It smelled like him, and it was homely. I felt safer now than in our argument. Our words held no value anymore, I just hoped that what he said was true.

Holding her like that almost made things feel normal again. Having her hair in between my fingers and her waist pressed against mine. I wanted to revel in it, selfishly. But her sniffles and uneven breath only made me remember why I even got the privilege to hold her again.

Again and again, I watched her breakdown over a mistake I made. To protect myself. I swore it to her last winter, promised her that it would always be my favorite season because she was my favorite thing. I built up this trust and a love between us. It was when she left that I freaked out over what my mom said.

“I’ve never seen you so happy.” She had said, poncho bc my cheek between her fingers. Playfully, I pulled my face away.

“Yea?” I mused, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and watched the steady snowfall on the final night of winter through the window.

“The love bug’s got you.” She was right. I was so undeniably in love with Y/n. I would change everything in my life just to be with her always.

“What?” My eyes squinted from the way my eyebrows furrowed. She was still looking out into the snow.

“It’s okay to be in love, Connie.” She quickly turned to me and smoothed out my shirt. She sensed my confusion and stress. I knew I was in love with her, but the fact that it was that obvious, that clear made me worry.

“Everyone has their first love at some point.” With that she left. At some point. The words rung through my head. I knew that the first love was always the strongest, but this was not my first love. I had fallen for an ex-girlfriend in freshman year. She broke my heart. Why was the thought of Y/n leaving shattering mine completely?

The more I thought of us together then, the more I worried about her leaving. She was perfect for me, maybe. But could I even measure up to her perfection? Could I give her everything?

I was able to push that feeling away for a few weeks. But as winter turned to spring and the leave began to regrow, I couldn’t shake it. Distance was a thing I was only growing between us. Space, something I created so there was no way we could get hurt. I thought it was the right thing, then. I thought it was the right move for me to let her leave so easily. To watch her fight for me one last time and not react. I was giving her the chance for someone more, someone better. I didn’t know I was only breaking her heart in ways I worried I would break my own.

It was a guilt I lived with all these months. When she didn’t come up to cousins because she wasn’t feeling good, I knew why. I had avoided her like the plague after our last conversation, our first real fight. I couldn’t even show up for her family in one of their most important milestones. Now it seemed like we only fight now, or at least in these past couple hours.

My neck was stiff from how it leaned against the back of the couch. I hadn’t watched past the hour mark of the black and white movie Conrad had put on. I didn’t have the heart to tell him I no longer liked it.

The movie was all I watched when I was at my absolute worst. Not to say I wasn’t still there, I felt rock bottom beneath my feet, but I felt myself getting better slowly. I no longer spent each day rewatching the same film over and over to ease the pain and remind myself of a happier time. I hated the way they talked. I once found it romantic, but the old cracking in the sound and the fancy accents made me angry. None of it was real.

To Conrad, he only did what he thought I would like. He had no way of knowing of my new distaste to the movie. One I used to rave about for hours. Then again, he never asked.

Yawning, I felt a set of eyes on mine.

“Tired?” He asked, a small smile on his face. I waved him off.

“Nope.” I popped the ‘p.’ It was an easy lie, my dark circles and slouchy posture gave it away. There was no way to sell it. I was surprised when he didn’t push me on it. My eyes drooped, my cheek pressed to my lonely shoulder. I had no one to lean on. I curled into myself a little, all while silently telling myself I was awake.

A pillow hit my lip, I bit down a little but it didn’t hurt me. My eyes were wide open now, hair messed up around the top. My fly aways were all over the place, my eyes squinting.

“Hey!” Grabbing the corners of the pillow, I swung as hard as I could towards Conrad, the culprit. It his his chest, he groaned out in a heavy breath. The pillow was soft, I was sure it didn’t hurt. But he entertained the idea that it did by rubbing circles in his chest, wincing and hissing through his teeth. I rolled my eyes.

“Seriously?” I leaned back against the cushions again, placing the pillow comfortably over my lap. I heard him laugh. A real, genuine laugh. It felt like weight was lifted off of my back.

“What! That was one of my best performances.” He punched my shoulder. I shot him playful glares. He pushed at me again, begging for a reaction. I folded already, giving into his games and retaliating against his childish attacks. But I would not crumble so easily. I would not let him tease me and play me until I opened up again just hours after yet another fight. I worried that another would ensue.

Sitting up, I tossed the pillow back at him. The sound he made confirmed it had hit him in the face.

“Come on, where are you going?” I could hear the smile in his voice. It made me smile too, knowing he was happy.

“To bed, I am tired.” I didn’t look back, but I felt him watching.

I swore I heard words die on his tongue. A soft stutter to a dead silence. Like he wanted to protest but stopped himself somehow. He never saw me look back, but when I was turning to the stairs, I allowed myself a glimpse.

His eyes were spacey, lip pulled between his front teeth. His eyebrows furrowed. He was deep in thought, but I could see the disappointment in his face. He didn’t seem as full of life, as cheerful. We were rebuilding a childhood, best friend bond that was lost with in cracking of our foundations in the spring.

“Goodnight, Conrad.” I still hadn’t had the ability to carry a joke with him. To keep a conversation flowing without my emotions dying inside of me before I could get them out. I whispered my goodnight. I wanted him to know I still held a place in my heart for him, but part of me wanted to reserve that knowledge to only myself.

I was scared to be more than what was being proposed. The door was open, we were almost friends. It was an odd spot. We’d act like friends, joke like them, but we both knew what we had done, what had just happened. I would walk through the entrance if Conrad would allow it. If we could at least be close, even if his lips weren’t mine, even if his body wasn’t there for me to lean on anymore. I would live happily, I’d be able to put on a brave face and call myself his friend. I would stand by the alter, watching him find another love, burying the hatchet of our love for good and I would be okay, I decided. As long as I still had him. As long as I never had to feel as alone as I did this morning.

“They’re saying borderline blizzard conditions, Con. You don’t think we’ll need to go on a supply run, do you?” His back was turned to me, hands working over the pot of coffee skillfully. His thumb brushed against the glass, he hissed quietly and shook his hand off.

“I think you’re just overthinking it.” He payed my worry not attention. He knew this house better than I did. It would hold, that wasn’t the worry. We had no shovels, nothing to dig us out of snow were to block us in. I scoffed and rolled my eyes, crossing my arms over my chest. I made my way around the island, pushing myself off of the counter and into one of the stools perched under it.

“Coffee?” Conrad asked, ignoring my questions again. I gave into him, playing his game and being stubborn.

“What kind?” My fingers drew circles on the cold marble.

“Black.” He set the cup down in front of me, letting it come to a halt right in front of me. My eyes flickered to the coffee, a smirk fighting it’s way onto my cheeks.

“Like your soul?” Like your heart, is what I wanted to say. Something that used to come so easy, meaningless insults directed at him not to make him sad, but to make him smile. I still hadn’t answered by question, though. If I were to direct a remark at his heart, would it weigh too much under the cracking foundation of our recovering friendship? I still wondered if he would laugh at that and go along with it.

Conrad laughed, looking out the window and admiring the sky. He didn’t respond, but he never really had when I’d make those jokes. Usually he would laugh or tell me it was a good one. He sighed lightly.

“I walked right into that one.” He smiled down at his coffee now, holding the mug loose with the handle dangling between his fingers.

When silence took over the room, it wasn’t uncomfortable. We welcomed it. We were alone with our thoughts and for once, they weren’t twisted and heavy. Only happy memories and thoughts of old habits.

In my mind, I dreamed of times where I knew what to say after making a joke. What I could do to counter a snarky remark and his laughter. I always knew what to say to him, when and why. I knew what made him tick. I still knew how to set him off, I believe that once you have the ability to get under someone’s skin, you never truly lose it. Either you continue to poke at the wounds that hurt them so, or your presence is able to remind them of it. Yet, with all the loss in my every heartbeat, somewhere along the way I forgot how to keep him happy.

Conrad’s footsteps snapped me out of my clouded haze. My eyes snapped up from the counter to his face. He didn’t look at me, but stayed focused on his coffee.

“Glad to know you still got it.” His eyes flicked to me, I swear I saw him wink. It was so quick, my words died in a pathetic stutter. I smiled stupidly at him, I couldn’t even pretend to be snarky. It caught me off guard, somehow. My walls were torn down now, the barrier of anger and sadness I kept up around him to keep us apart gone with our last fight and heart to hearts. The devils in the details, but somehow it didn’t feel as deep, as life changing anymore.

It was like he knew I couldn’t think of something to promise to him. To keep us going. He surely hadn’t lost it.

I tried to rationalize everything recently. But it felt like it took over my life. I’d almost forgotten about Belly and Steven. How they’d been so quick to shut me out simply because someone had offered me a place to be wanted for a moment. Conrad always knew when to swoop in to save me. I could help but talk myself down every so often and convince myself that Conrad is not made of Angel dust. He simply is a man, and a smart one at that. All of this could be just to butter me up, I know it’s always an outcome. A way to win me back, but never want me the same. It poisons me to think about him that way, I know him. He would never play me to become the good guy.

My mind has no middle line. Constantly wavering between my lover, the man I see as the sky and the seas. I see him as a perfect lipstick stain to a white collar, uggs in the fall, hot chocolate in the winter. He is all things I love and yet I still fight. The other part of me fights my heart to keep my distance. How just hours ago I told myself the hate I had for Conrad was always going to be just that, irreversible hurt that he caused. It’s the sweetest torture I could bare in the fact that really, by the end of it my mind is set on just getting to be with him again. No matter what his games are.

It’s pathetic, but my heart strings pull a little whenever I hear his footsteps upstairs. When I can tell if he’s coming to see me or not. I like knowing he likes to be around me once more. It almost covers up the fact that he hurt me so bad. I’m not idiot, however. I wish I were in some cases, but I’m not blinded completely by my love. With every advance, I find a way to make it platonic. He’s my friend.

He said he missed me, our friendship bond. I know that he is a man of his word. I should not work myself up, I shouldn’t expect so much. I shouldn’t jump into his arms because he says go. I think rationally, I use my head. I let my heart race and my cheeks flush but ultimately my brain will stop me from messing about again. So part of me finds it sad when the power goes out later that day. For both the house and myself. It’s childish how quickly I jump in search of Conrad. I have to remind myself not to hold onto him, not to yell I told you so.

I call for his name quietly through the halls, feeling the chipping paint under my finger tips. It’s still fresh, but bumpy. A previous project of Susannah’s from when her paint brushes never seemed to dry out. It’s hard to tell if she never finished her projects that summer. Or even if she never finished any.

In the dark, it’s almost more clear to see where her brush strokes end. Where the moonlight illuminates the white and blues, you can see the divides between old and new. God, if she were any less attentive it would surely be the end of this house. It was in great condition, but some things were out of place, uncared for simply because Susannah’s mind went a mile a minute.

Smiling, I let my hands run over the wall, feet planting on the cold wood. I could feel it through my socks, with the lights out and the heat stuttering to a halt.

“Y/n/n, hey.” He sounded breathless, coming up from behind me. I hadn’t even noticed the stomping of his feet up the staircase as my fingers danced along the wall. So caught up in the past I find it that sometimes I forget that I’m living in my present. Looking around my metaphorical room in my mind, I see my chosen family. I see his brother as mine, his mother as mine. I see myself as a child again running through the sand and tracking mud through the dining room.

I know deep down I can not keep holding on, keep on keeping myself back. I can never give Conrad peace, but I can give him my sunshine, my best. He would always have a friend in me. I set my heart free then, fingers stuck to the wall, eyes flickering to my feet. I let go of my heart break and my solemn silences I throw at my loved ones for guilt. I let my walls down, I take Conrad’s hand, and I shake my head. His smile is warm, his eyes loving. He still needs me, he always has. He still loves me and my heart is racing. I finally feel like I have him back.

“You okay?” Back in reality, I’m aware that I’m not actually holding onto his hand, and Conrad isn’t really smiling at me. My heart is still in its cage and I have fallen victim to my own mind again. Conrad is not mine.

Clearing my throat, I lick at the corners of my lips. When I shake my head this time, I know it’s real because Conrad is looking at me questioningly. He is not in love with me, he is not drooling over me. The power is still out and our muddy footprints mean nothing to him anymore.

“We blew a fuse, but the generators dead. We’re just going to have to stick it out.” I nodded again, looking up at him with doe eyes. My lips were glossy with a sheen coat of spit from how much I licked them, but at them nervously. Yet, he didn’t even spare me a glance. It was almost like he was waiting on something.

“You can say it.” He finally sighed.

“Say what?” His eyes caught mine, seeing just how intently my eyes focused on his dimples and the bridge of his nose decorated with delicate freckles. I cleared my throat.

“You told me so.” He smiled, punching my shoulder playfully. He could tell my mind was drifting, he could see it, I saw the way his eyes softened. My gentle smile turned into a shit-eating grin.

A beat passed, he continued waiting on me in the dark room. I liked it in some odd ways. Enjoyed having him waiting on me for once. It wasn’t the same. How my heart waited for his apologies for so long, how I expected it because I knew one day he would come back to me to make things right in his own way. But somehow, his desire for my once overlooked jokes and brushed off comments made my cheeks warm. Like more than me in this moment, he wanted the normal us back.

“Are you going to…” He voice trailed off, my feet picked up against the cold wood floor.

“Why don’t you start the fire? I’m going to get some blankets.” I tucked the hair behind my ear, practically running to the staircase. He nodded, not that I could see it, but the silence confirmed that he had forgotten that I couldn’t truly see his nod. That along with a soft hum of approval from him.

“Oh, and Conrad.” He hummed again. His eyes glistened in the moonlight, shining brighter than any other object standing in the hallway. He waited on me patiently, slowly inching closer.

“I told you so.”

The best of blankets and pillows sprawled put along the living room floor helped to further nestle us against the foot of our white couch. The snowfall and the storm felt less like an inconvenience but a gift.

I was reminded of my childhood. Of first snowfalls and broken ice skates. Red noses and icy hair. I remember how even after the facade of perfect holidays and new years kisses faded into nothing more than a dream, how my heart still soared with excitement each coming fall. How I couldn’t wait to see the snowy powder decorating my front lawn. I get reminded of why I drove so long to see Conrad. Of his warm hugs and his soft mittens. Wearing his hats and stumbling around in the backyard. I feel less hurt by the company than I once did a few days ago. I feel blessed that by some miracle, fate had string Conrad and I back together. That his hands would forever paint my hands in a gentle love we only held, and his whispers of senseless jokes he mumbled tiredly were only mine to laugh at.

The fire crackled, roaring feverishly through the night. The snow and wind pounded against the sides of the house, and despite the chills running through my toes and my fingers, I felt warmer inside than before, rekindling our inside jokes and fueling ourselves for even more.

Soon, our soft laughter and ongoing conversations died out. Our eyes glued to the flames, I tried to catch a glimpse into Conrad’s eyes. I wanted to know what the fire would look like reflected into his blue eyes. Instead, I caught his gaze locked onto my face.

I felt embarrassed, in a way. Vulnerable under his gaze. I felt my cheeks heat up and my body tingle. I felt like a school girl again.

“Y/n/n.” He called for me softly. The only way I was sure that he’d even said it was the fact that my eyes were so trained in his pink lips. I nodded slowly.

“Why did you come down here? Why now?” Even though the question was serious, I couldn’t help but to smile at his curiosity in my life.

Taking a deep breath, I watched his flat face turn into a welcoming grin.

“Lately, I’ve just been caught up in the past, I guess. I’m just so used to coming home every winter to Steven and Belly in the living room already fighting. And my dad and mom arguing about what decorations playfully.” Conrad laughed like he could picture it. He’d never really been in my house during the holidays. Sure, the Fisher family would stop by every few months when the distance became too much, but holiday’s were usually spent apart.

“I guess when I came home this year and that wasn’t there, I kind of freaked a little. I mean, Steven just left, Belly was too caught up in her own life to care about what I wanted to do, how much time we had left. My dad was too busy to stop by and…” I couldn’t bring myself to say it. I almost allowed the words to slip, how the final straw was that even with the mess of my family, at least at one point I had Conrad. I had his gentle hands and his quiet promises to hold onto. When everything went to hell, it was like losing the last bit of peace. “I wanted to be somewhere I wouldn’t feel alone, I guess.” I replaced my words with this. Hoping he’d understand how much he meant to me, how much all of it meant to me.

The single puff of air coming harshly through his mouth in a sigh reminded me just how close we were. How I could feel each word falling from his lips fanning over my shoulder. We were sharing a blanket, so close yet our bodies so far.

“Y/n.” He sounded more serious. During my confession, I found a home in the floorboards. Feeling safer confessing to the air than to a man who destroyed me not so long ago. My eyes hesitated to meet his, but I could see just how serious he was.

“I regret what happened between us more than anything I’ve ever done in my life. I know I can’t reverse that, but please never say you are alone. I swear to you, no matter what, I’m there.” It was rare to hear such thing from Conrad. Maybe a grunt of a hug to assure my feelings were always appreciated. But I could see the sincerity in his face, his voice was dripping with guilt. He meant it, every word.

Nodding my head, I silently thanked him. I watched his eyes search my face. How his lips parted but shut quickly. He decided against continuing, but it was like an unspoken apology was being said between us in that moment.

With gravity pulling us together, it was only in my nature to protect my heart. I had to rip us apart before I gave in without knowing if we’d ever be the same. If I kissed him and it was just a winter fling, I couldn’t take another heartbreak.

So, in our silence, I moved my hand between us. The pad of my thumb brushing away the charcoal from the fire dusting just under his cheek. I watched how he shivered and backed away, eyes fluttering shut. All while I bit at my lip, delicate in the way I rubbed away the dust.

“Are my hands cold?” I remained focused in on him, my lips curled into a smile seeing his reaction to my touch, how he shivered but didn’t complain. He nodded his head slowly, but his eyes were still closed.

I saw how his eyebrows furrowed, it wasn’t from discomfort, but in the low light it was hard to tell. My hand curled away, ready to ease the coldness off of his skin. I didn’t expect his own hand to cover mine, holding it against his now rosy cheeks.

“Feels nice.” He mumbled almost drowsily. His eyes still hidden behind his eyelids, his other hand found mine aimlessly, gently pressing it to his other cheek. I felt his weight sink into my palms, reveling in my touch.

The band suddenly snapped. All the tension, all the build up. He was right there, so eager, so gentle. I had to know if he was still the same boy I loved not too long ago. He had set me up for an old joke.I always wondered if I could still joke with him like this. It still gnawed at me some nights.

“It’s because you’re cold hearted.” I expected him to laugh, I hoped he would. But instead, he smiled just as genuine as his old laughter, melting into my touch more than I thought he could ever. I hadn’t been able to predict what he would tell me. Couldn’t have read his lips even if I could see into the future.

“For everyone else, maybe. But not for you.” He was as honest as a man could be. With his eyelashes fluttering open, I could see it in his eyes now. How they looked back at me wide and awake. I felt my stomach flip. There was something there I had previously missed. Dancing along with the glowing of the fire in his irises, was the same spark he once carried when I was his and he was mine.

I didn’t even get to challenge it, teasing him and making him repeat his confessions. My lips stuttered on the first syllable, just before his hands smushed my cheeks with the force of how he grabbed me. He was firm, but not aggressive. He could never hurt me.

His lips molded against mine perfectly in my mind. He tasted like mint and hot chocolate. My hands tangled in his hair, his palms flat against my waist. With so little space between us, so much fever and pent up frustration, air became harder and harder to get. With each touch of his fingers, it was like tiny fires being sparked across my body.

He hadn’t even had to tell me what he felt then. Neither did I. In that moment my walls crumbled beneath my feet. All resistance was gone. In Conrad’s grasp, I felt less alone.

I knew it then. To Conrad, my mind games I played on myself, my temper and the storms that would inevitably cloud up my sunniest days, the fact that I could never give him peace did not matter. We would always be enough.

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