#sorry but it really makes me mad and I don’t even shave in the winter

[latibvles]

SAD, BEAUTIFUL, TRAGIC.

beautiful, tragic // not yet burned.

you’re my best friend, we’re dancing in this world alone.

masterlist | gallery | taglist

TAGLIST: @liebgotts-lovergirl , @softguarnere , @brassknucklespeirs , @monalisastwin , @mads-weasley , @eugene-emt-roe

SUMMARY: Ginny’s never hated her — that much, Daisy is sure of.

WARNINGS: none.

Like the seasons, and like everybody else — the men in Easy have changed.

They’ve lost fingers or toes, some of them haven’t yet shaved those scruffy beards grown out in Foy and Haguenau. The same men who were so affable and bordering-on-neighborly with replacements in Holland have all but burned down the welcome wagon for whatever sorry replacements join them now in Mourmelon. Even George’s humor edges on dark some days to the point that Daisy isn’t sure anyone who wasn’t there would find it funny.

Some things remain the same.

She watches with keen interest as Joe handles the scissors, trimming away winter shag like the men are preparing for spring cleaning. Haircuts are traded for packs of smokes, the occasional nicer lighter or even money. He stacks them on one of the empty crates, gives Daisy a distracted order to “guard his shit” while he cuts hair, and every now and again glances at her like she might disappear and leave his precious cigarettes to the hands of sticky-fingered privates.

“Used to get weekend passes like this,” Joe admits, his grin almost mimicking that of the man she met a summer ago, but not quite. “Major Winters used to let me cut his hair. He’d gimme ‘em as long as he kept his ear.”

Daisy nods along, amused for a moment, before the thoughts of Dick lapse into thoughts of Ginny and she refocuses her gaze on Joe’s steady glance, offering up a half-distracted “Don’t think that’d work on Captain Speirs.”

They’d be moving into Germany in a few days, attached to Second Battalion again. She, Catherine, and Rita were all briefed on it that morning — making sure their replacements all knew what they were doing and what went where. Daisy wanted to stay, catch Ginny and talk but her word bank must’ve been effectively robbed. She couldn’t think of a thing to say and even if she could, she didn’t want to force herself into what looked like an important conversation between Ginny and Catherine.

She ducked away, tail between her legs. Then she found Joe doing haircuts. Now she’s halfheartedly guarding his loot as manages to conjure up a mohawk for this new replacement with only a pair of scissors. He gave him two packs of cigarettes in exchange.

“What, you won’t talk him into it? Bat your eyelashes and go ‘Oh Captain Speirs, Corporal Liebgott could really use that pass,” He asks once he’s done with the replacement and he’s effectively out of earshot, still keeping his voice a bit low. His voice takes on a higher pitch when he impersonates her, she rolls his eyes.

“I think he’d trust Rita with scissors near his head before you,” Daisy teases, expecting Joe to put a hand over his heart or otherwise feign offense. Instead he grimaces. She raises a brow. “What’s with the face?”

“What face?”

“That face,” she attempts to mimic it, before placing her hands on her hips. “You look pained.” Joe lets out a small huff, walking over and leaning against one of the crates, running his hand through his hair. She stares at him expectantly — he looks like he’s trying to decide if he should open his mouth. “You don’t have to say anything. Just figured I should ask,” Daisy offers, almost lamely.

“Has she talked to you? About anything?”

“Real specific, Joe,” Daisy retorts, ignoring the way he narrows his eyes. “About you? Not really, no.” She watches his jaw clench, and her brows furrow. “Should she be talking to me about something?” He groans, running his fingers through his hair.

“Christ, Dais, I don’t fuckin’ know,” he fumes, like he doesn’t know what to be angry with, so he’s directing it at the air. “Things were fine I think, in Haguenau. Now we’re here and it’s like… like I fuckin’ did something and she’s giving me the cold shoulder instead of saying what it is so I can fix it.” Daisy immediately disregards that possibility. Cold-shoulders were never Rita’s style, at least, not without a five minute verbal lashing predating it, and a blatant scowl whenever someone even associated with the offender is brought up. She presses her lips into a line.

“You two weren’t caught doing anything, were you?” Granted, she doesn’t even know if he knows that they have been caught once already, but Ginny’s ability to lie through her teeth had likely saved Rita from an abrupt transfer. He shakes his head, bowing his head for a moment to bite at his lip.

Joe doesn’t have some type of witty remark or sarcastic comment to throw her way and make her flush pink with embarrassment. But to be fair, he’s dryer than before and not much makes her blush. Still, he looks weighed down in a way she hasn’t seen him before, enough to know that he takes this, Rita, seriously. But of course, even if she knows the reason why – it wouldn’t be her business to speak on. It would be Rita’s.

“For what it’s worth you probably didn’t… do anything. She would’ve said something if you did,” she offers, kicking a rock near their feet and watching it skid over the gravel. “But we’re kind of told to put on a brave face for the rest of you. Better for morale if the nurses are always smiling. So I’d say it wouldn’t hurt to ask her what’s going on when you get the chance.” She leans to her left, bumping their shoulders. “And maybe treat her with all these haircut trinkets.” That makes him snort, rolling his eyes.

“Look at you and your bright fuckin’ ideas.”

“Keep pointing it out and I might start charging you for all this sage advice,” she retorts. Joe reaches to flick her ear, snickering as she swats his hand away. He’s effectively subdued again, resuming his prior stance and staring off.

“Don’t know how you do that shit — putting on a happy face all the time,” his laugh is almost bitter as he shakes his head. “Think I’d go crazy.”

“We get a lot of practice in,” Daisy explains with a shrug, hoping to leave it at that — lest she go into an explanation about how the kids didn’t cry in her house after watching their parents try and fail to keep it all in. “Also I think you have to be a little crazy to do any of this at all. You jumped out of an airplane, Joe.” He snorts at that, rolling his eyes.

“Uh huh, help me bring my stuff back to my rack, kid.”

“The hell’d you just call me?” But Joe doesn’t answer, just taking what he can into his hands and leaving the rest for her to take, snickering when she mutters in feigned offense about being referred to as a kid, and a part of her mind still on Ginny, on their distance, and how she’s supposed to close it like she ought to.

Ginny, who adamantly refuses to acknowledge that she’s upset at all — even though Daisy could so clearly see it. She keep carrying on and she’d let it swallow her whole if she had to.

Daisy figures she really ought to start taking her own advice.

Ginny doesn’t hate her.

Or rather, a more appropriate statement would be: Ginny doesn’t hate her enough to find a different tent, presumably. Or maybe even Ginny doesn’t hate her enough to take another enthusiastic Parisian vacation — and not invite a certain redheaded Major to come along with her.

This is really banking on the fact that Ginny doesn’t hate her, which in theory seems dramatic, but she’s put a lot of stock in her ability to keep Ginny calm, or rather her inability to make Ginny angry. Daisy was lucky that Ginny let her understand everything that went on in her head. So hopefully, she could get it right this time. As she approaches the tent, there’s light leaking through the canvas again — and she can’t help but think of that night with Ron, and the morning after, and how she still feels like she’s stumbling through some prolonged bad dream.

But that was real, and the morning after was real, and the way she snapped on Ginny was real, too.

She pokes her head in, watches wordlessly at Ginny, sat on the edge of the cot, scribbling over sentences on a piece of mail with a pen. Daisy hesitates, watching as she scribbles over words and mutters to herself as she does so. She could leave it for another day, when Ginny isn’t scribbling out sentences like they’ve personally offended her.

“Do you plan to stand there for the next thirty minutes or what?”

Ginny doesn’t have to look at her for Daisy to know she’s the one being addressed. She doesn’t reply, but steps fully into the dimly lit tent. Ginny keeps going, rolling her eyes at the piece of paper and letting out a small sigh as she folds it up and tears open another envelope.

“They still got you censoring mail?”

“Sometimes, yeah.”

Daisy doesn’t sit, not wanting to invade her space, but standing in front of her all the same. Watching, waiting, trying to form a coherent thought but coming up with blanks. This would be when Ginny would allot herself a couple of complaints, a few muttered curses about Peake and about whoever’s mail it was that she was censoring, and Daisy would try to make her laugh and they’d carry on. But Ginny doesn’t even allot herself that. She just keeps scribbling, and Daisy keeps standing there, feeling dumb.

This was easier in her head — where she imagined that if Ginny didn’t want to talk to her she’d just kick her out. But this isn’t what she imagined it to be and she still can’t tell if that's a good thing. Her palms are sweaty, and she feels smaller than she’d like to. Part of her wants to come up with an excuse and slink away before she can further embarrass herself, but she decides against that. Out with it.

“I’m sorry,” she musters, after another second of silence.

The scribbling stops. She watches Ginny press her lips into a line.

“I told you that—”

“I know what you said,” Daisy interjects. “But I don’t think you meant it. And if I did then you can tell me I’m wrong and I’ll apologize for assuming.” Ginny looks up at her now, but she doesn’t say anything. Her brows are knit together, the pen resting in her lap, idle. Daisy lets out a small sigh, but holds her friend’s gaze while she still has it. “I’m not apologizing for being upset, I’m saying sorry for snapping on you. And if you don’t want to accept it then I can’t change your mind but I still owe it to you.”

She doesn’t know what to expect — watching as Ginny’s face goes through a multitude of expressions. Ginny runs a hand through her hair, leaning her weight on her elbows. The exhaustion finally shows on her face, and Daisy can’t recall the last time she’d seen someone look so tired.

“You are the most stubborn person I’ve ever known, Boston,” she mutters, with an irritated sort of affection. Daisy bites back a smile.

“You haven’t met yourself, then.” She dares to step forward and take a seat beside her, letting her side bump into Ginny’s and counting it as a victory when she doesn’t push her away or glare at her for sitting. “Can’t get one over on me though. I know when you’re mad.” And then, as she looks her up and down, Daisy decides to add “And when you’re tired.”

“Don’t you start nagging me too, Dais.”

“So Dick’s taken over in my absence, I’m assuming?” Daisy plucks the letter and the pen from her, taking Ginny’s lack of an answer as a confirmation. “Great then, maybe with his, mine, and Rita’s power combined you’ll actually rest on your breaks, now pass those letters over.”

“Daisy, you don’t have to—”

“Virginia Brant if you finish that sentence with you don’t have to do that, I’m going to take Rita and Cat’s mail too to censor all of it out of pure spite.” Which would definitely be a personal punishment, which Ginny definitely knows by the way that she snorts. Daisy smiles at her all the same. “Now lie down before I get him in here to forcibly tuck you in and just pass me envelopes when I need them.”

“Is that a threat or a promise?” Ginny offers with a snicker. Daisy shoves her, lightly, until she’s willingly falling onto her back and watching.

“You sound like you’d enjoy that way too much, so I’m retracting that statement. I’ll get Ron to do it instead. Or Captain Nixon. Maybe both.” Ginny pulls a face, something between grossed out and amused at the very thought. Daisy snickers.

“Keep up with the threats and I might just reject that apology of yours,” she hums, nudging Daisy with her foot. Daisy arches a brow, but reverts her attention to the letters, scribbling out locations, names that they can’t send out, certain dates.

“Then how long’s my probation?”

Ginny’s silent for a while, like she’s mulling it over. Daisy lets her and doesn’t pry as she contemplates.

“‘Till we’re in Germany. Then you’re good.” Daisy smiles at that, as she tears open another letter.

“Sounds good to me.”

#fic // sad beautiful tragic #ronald speirs x oc #ronald speirs x ofc #band of brothers oc #band of brothers fic #hbo war fic #hbo war oc #hbo war ofc

[rabbits-of-negative-euphoria]

as someone who does not match the culture’s current beauty standards, i don’t understand why feminist artists are hell-bent on making women look as ugly as possible

#- HK #like? why #why do you feel the need to exaggerate normal features into the grotesque as if that represents the biological feminine? #it’s actually kind of insulting #to tell someone with a bulbous nose that it #might as well look like an eggplant #or that the overweight woman has retained none of her shape #and i understand the majority of them are deliberate simplifications #but if that’s the case! why draw the tiny hairs on their legs? why draw the tiny hairs BETWEEN their legs? #that’s what’s really hideous; #because they’ve erased anything feminine in the overall #they carefully include the genitals because that’s all a woman is now #ADDITIONALLY #unpopular opinion #women are traditionally depicted as smooth because compared to men we are #lack of body hair is one of our biologically defining characteristics #BECAUSE gender is binary #if you’re trying to represent the idea of Woman stop drawing attention to the body hair #just as an aesthetic and thematic rule #sorry but it really makes me mad and I don’t even shave in the winter #I despise feminist art #mobile #x

[passivenovember]

mama said to smile while I still have teeth.

(or) Post Starcourt, a very different Billy Hargrove gets his wisdom teeth removed.

--

In a moment of weakness and textbook junior year assholery, Steve gets his stomach ripped out and fed to him for suggesting that Billy could take the bus.

And it’s not without reason.

Hopper and Joyce have work. And Robin would ask too many questions--why the shaved head, why the ratty black hoodie and sweatpants, why the perpetual vow of silence--and the only one of the kids that has their permit is Dustin.

But Max behaves as if none of that matters. Looks at Steve as if he set the house on fire himself.

“Or you could take him.” She sneers. Like that’s somehow a good idea. “You have a car.”

“Billy wouldn’t get in a car with me even if you paid him.” 

Steve doesn’t say he’d rather face a barrel of Demodogs one handed than be left alone with Billy. Would rather lick black slime off his own dick than feel those silent, cool blue eyes pouring like ice water down the ridges of his skin.

Steve wants to say it. Doesn’t. When Max starts crying. “His legs don’t work as good anymore.”

“Billy gave me a concussion.”

“He’s got gas money.” She says, voice winding tight with desperation. 

And Steve despises the painful, weeping grip of her fingers when they close around his forearm. Hates that she cares so much for someone who could never care for her.

“I know it’s not much.” Max swallows thickly. “I know he used to be a piece of shit, but he’s--”

“Different.” Steve says heavily, scrubbing at his forehead. “I know.”

--

Billy slides into the passenger seat with a thermos in one hand and a cranberry muffin in the other and Steve isn’t used to it, the way his body seems to have deflated. Limbs cut from marianette strings, hanging limp as if gravity hasn’t quite learned what to do with them. 

Billy places the muffin and the thermos on the dashboard between them, and.

Steve expects something.

A thank you, which could come later. A hello, which should come now.

Billy nods at the dashboard.

Steve jots into action. “Oh. These aren’t for you?”

Billy grunts, reaching to pass the goodies over as if Steve were incapable of doing it himself. The thermos is warm in Steve’s hand. Sturdy. 

“Coffee?” He asks, jerking with surprise when Billy mutters; “Hazelnut.” In a voice as soft as feather down. 

Steve waits for Billy to say something else, but. 

Billy doesn’t. He just turns and peers out the passenger side window, into the gentle swell of rain that’s started to fall.

“Thanks. Thank you.” Steve says. He starts the car. Lets it warm, and. 

Tries not to feel like this is the first time their bodies have had to reacquaint themselves with one another. 

Tries not to marvel at how beautiful silvery thin lines can be. Running from the shell of an ear and disappearing, quick, into the hood nestled around broad shoulders. 

Steve rubs his hands together, tearing his eyes away. “First time at the dentist?”

And Billy doesn’t say anything. 

Never says anything, anymore, but. That doesn’t stop the conversation from feeling communal. Shared.

“I got my wisdom teeth out when I was fourteen.” Steve peers through the windshield. It’s raining harder now. “Don’t remember much about the whole thing. Mom says I tried to stop the aquarium fish from drowning. And that I had to be double belted on the way home--”

“Will it hurt?” Billy turns to look at him, and. His eyes are welling up. Cheeks and nose red, as if stung by October winds. 

Billy whispers, “I wanted Max to come but she had school.” 

His hand is covered by the sleeve of his hoodie, fabric scrubbing rough at the stubble along his jaw. “Did they hurt you?” Billy asks, and.

Steve doesn’t like the way he says it. 

Like there really is something to be afraid of, at the core of it all. Like no one has ever considered the possibility.

“It’s not so bad.” Steve’s heart gives a painful, gripping thud. “You get a free ice pack out of the deal and decent high from the silly gas, if you’re lucky.”

Billy nods. “We’re gonna be late.”

Which. “Yeah, sorry.” 

“It’s alright.”

“We’ll get you there lickety-split.” Steve pulls out of the driveway, fingers gripping the wheel when Billy places the still-warm muffin in his lap.

--

He sticks around for the procedure just to stop Billy from looking like he’s being dropped at his first day of kindergarten. The waiting room is bright. Warm and colorful, plush couches stocked full of overstuffed pillows. All within throwing distance of machine labeled free coffee :)

Not a bad dig, all things considered, but.

Billy says Steve doesn’t have to wait around. Doesn’t even have to come back at all. The nurse calls his name and Billy stands, shoulders lined with tension, before turning to whisper, “I’ll take the bus back to Neil’s.”

And Steve knows. Gets it. 

The universe running a test. An experiment that will prove whether Steve’s really got a heart under all that chest hair. 

Steve lifts his Highlights magazine. “I’m good.”

“Really?”

“Dude, It’s pouring outside,” Steve says, shaking his hair out for good measure. “I’ll just wait. In case you’re too high to function.”

Billy looks like he wants to say something else, so. Steve gives his full attention. Plans on the preverbal thank you that’ll probably never come, but. The nurse calls that name again. 

Billy Hargrove.

And Billy turns to go, hands tangled in the sleeves of his hoodie. 

--

His cheeks are swollen, like. 

A chipmunk. 

Stuffed full of little cotton pads that could be acorns. That are acorns, Billy insists, when the nurse brings Steve back to the operation room. He’s parked on the dentist bench. Curled into a ball with a thumb in his mouth when Steve rounds the corner. 

“Steve,” Billy says thickly. “They took my teeth out but I have acorns.” He reaches across the space between them, fingers grasping Steve’s wrist tightly.

Too tight, but. 

Steve can’t bring himself to care when the nurse says, “Billy, take your thumb out of you mouth.”

And Billy says. “I need to suck on something cold.” He pulls Steve right up to the edge of the bench, sitting with a serious glint in his eye. “Our acorns will be good for winter, right?”

He sways, nearly falling off the leather table, so.

Steve grasps his shoulder. Puts him back in place. “Probably? I don’t think acorns go bad.”

“We gotta make sure, ‘cause I don’t want you to starve.” Billy slurs, dropping to dead weigh when the nurse gets an arm underneath him and asks Steve to get the kid on his feet. 

Billy lands somewhere against Steve’s ribs, swaying dramatically as bright red drool slides over his chin. 

The nurse swears under her breath, going at it with a towel. 

Billy swats her hand away. He staggers as Steve thanks the nurse and leads them into the waiting room. 

“You’re so pretty, Stever.” Billy reaches out again, fingertips poking Steve’s eyelid. “Can’t starve for the winter. Gotta get pretty boys their acorns--”

“Stop poking me--”

“Acorn soup.” Billy sings. “Acorn pie and casserole and lollipops covered in sugar.”

Steve manages to get the doors open with zero help from Billy, chuckling as warm, soft palms circle around his shoulder blades. 

They’re hugging. 

In the rain. 

At the dentist’s office.

Steve hugs back, squawking when Billy’s nose brushes against his heartbeat. “C’mon, dude, we gotta--”

“Will you carry me, Stever?”

“No.” Steve says, manhandling Billy from his chest to his ribcage, determined to make it across the lot in one piece. “You’re solid muscle, there’s no way I could carry you.”

Billy makes a noise, pretty pink lips forming a pout when Steve looks over at him. 

“I got all the acorns ready for winter and you can’t carry me to the car?” Billy grumbles, leaning against the side of the Beamer while Steve gets his key into the lock. 

Steve untangles himself from the arms that fold around his waist. “Billy--”

“You smell like grass.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“No, like sweet grass.” Billy cackles, doubling over at his own joke, and. Pulling Steve down with him. “Sweet ass, right?”

“You’re insane.” Steve whispers, somehow out of breath from. The hands on his neck. He let’s Billy pet through his hair and then Steve yanks on the door handle, opening it, like, “Alright. Get in.”

Billy has more blood on his face. “Wanna sit with you.”

“We will.”

“Can I lay on your chest?”

Steve’s face hurts from smiling. “You won’t fit.”

“I could!” Billy whimpers, jerking away from Steve as he tries to get the blood off his chin. “I could be like a kitty cat--”

“Would you just--” Steve gets his hands on him, wiping at Billy’s mouth with his thumb. “Hold still, alright?”

“Alright.” Billy kisses Steve’s finger. Chaste and quick, gone before either really know what’s happening. Those blue eyes pull Steve in, drink him down. “How come you’re so pretty?” Billy asks. 

And. “Dunno,” Steve says, sounding just as out of breath as he feels. Like they’ve been running laps, and. 

Steve thinks maybe they have.

All around Hawkins. Through the years. Past each other. 

Billy holds still under the weight of ten fingers before frowning. Sticking his little swollen lip out. “Can we go home now?”

Steve backs away, gripping the edge of the door. “Sure.”

“Not to Neil’s,” Billy mutters to himself, leaning into the leather seat when Steve gets his limbs folded into the car. He cranes his head, eyes huge and watery. “Can I hang out with you?”

Steve moves to close the door. “Sure.”

Billy stops him. “Are you mad at me?”

“No, Billy.”

“Then why are you trying to close the door?” Billy demands, peering through narrowed eyes. 

Steve chuckles at that, squeezing the fingers that curl into the palm of his hand. “We gotta close the door so we can drive the car back to my house.”

Billy yanks his hand away. “Your house.” He says, as if tasting the words on his tongue.

Steve nods. “Do you want to go to my house?”

“Do you have macaroni and cheese?”

“Yeah, I can.” Steve wills himself to stop smiling. “I can make some after you take a nap.”

Billy stops the door from closing again. “I’ll be cold if I try to sleep.” 

And he says it like.

No one’s ever believed him. Billy speaks with an anchor in his voice, the weight of it pulling Steve in. Forward, until he understands. 

Steve grips the edge of the door. 

Nods. Let’s Billy know that there are ways around it. 

Billy’s crying, and. Steve doesn’t want to see him cry anymore. Every again. They’ve been through too much. He takes Billy’s hand and squeezes tight, smiling softly when cool blue eyes peer up at him. 

“Then we can eat macaroni and watch T.V.--”

“We can?”

“Yeah,” Steve says softly. “And when you’re ready to go home I’ll take you. Keep you safe.”

He moves to close the door, chucking when a firm, sure hand holds it in place. 

Billy stares at him. “What if I never wanna go home again?”

Steve thinks about it, tapping his knuckles on the hood of the car. He shrugs. “Guess we’ll cross that bridge when we get there, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Billy says.

This time, when the door is closed, Steve runs to the other side. Not wanting to miss a single moment.

#harrigrove #they’re getting fluff and then a shit load of angst #and then more fluff #love my babies #wisdom teeth

[soulwillower]

if you’re too shy • richie tozier

(richie tozier x cam girl!reader smut)

[based off the song if you’re too shy (let me know) by the 1975.]

requested: i can't find it lol BUT 🤍anon (i think) requested a fic based off of the 1975′s new song, if you’re too shy let me know !!

warnings: swearing, alcohol use, switch!richie kinda, smut, unprotected sex, a tiny bit of cumplay i guess, mentions of phone sex, oral sex (female receiving), face sitting, a bit of dirty talking, UNEDITED as always

also i wrote this in a different style than usual and idk if i like it much but u can let me know what u guys think,, if its weird i can go in and change the povs since its 3rd person richie

[losers + reader are 21+ in this.]

7.4k words lol

♡

i see her online all the time i'm trying not to stare down there while she talks about her tough time

"h-hey, man, who's that?" the voice from right next to richie makes him damn near leap out of his seat. it makes beverly chuckle a bit as she takes a bite of her apple, shaking her head. "it’s nobody." richie says quickly as he tilts his phone towards his chest and shoots a toothy grin to bill. his friend raises his full eyebrows, "wh-what, so n-nobody was sending you n-nudes?"

"something like that." richie mutters, stomach fluttering as the image flashes in his mind’s eye - the curves, the dark red lace, the plush skin painting a perfect scene in richie’s vivid imagination.

richie looks back down at the photo. his his thumbs hover over the profile picture; he'd found her originally on his instagram explore page, the photos teasing and immediately he had to know more. y/n.

and then a few days later, he'd subscribed to her only fans, which he never quite thought he'd do with anyone, but he couldn't help it. she was so enticing, so perfect and so alluring. it was the playfulness that pulled him in; and he swears he's never lusted after somebody like he has with her. it was kind of starting to freak him out.

"is that o-onlyfans?" bill says and richie shoves bill's nosy face off his shoulder with a panicked grunt. "fuck off, mushmouth."

bill laughs and stan and bev perk up from across the table, staring at the two, interests suddenly piqued. "did you subscribe to a girl's onlyfans, rich?" stan says with a grin, setting his pen down on his notebook. 

richie just smirks and wiggles his brows a bit, enough to confirm his question. bill chuckles from next to richie.

"let me see." bev says, wiggling her manicured nails in a "gimme" motion. richie hands his phone over with red cheeks. normally he wouldn't care about his friends discovering he's paid money just to see a hot chick's bod, but this was different. for some reason, he felt connected to her. god, that thought made him want to slam his head against a brick wall. she doesn't even know him,  for all he knows she could live in the middle of.... montana, or like, ohio.

bev whistles and stan nods, "if i looked like that," bev mumbles as she tosses richie's phone back towards him, "i'd do that too. mad props."

noises of agreement fill the table but richie's just looking at the small smirk that peeks from the corner of one of the photos and he can't help but wonder what her eyes are like in real life. he wishes he could meet her.

girl of your dreams, you know what i mean there's something 'bout her stare that makes you nervous and you say things that you don't mean

it's a cold day when bill and richie find themselves stumbling in to the coffee shop for a drink. bill's muttering about some girl in his creative writing class that gave him head when richie's eyes catch a figure so familiar yet foreign that he stops dead in his tracks. bill turns to him, face confused. "r-richie, what's wrong w-with you?"

richie shakes his head, stammering in disbelief, "that-that's her, bill. the girl, from onlyfans. y/n." he whispers, gesturing with his eyes towards the girl working the register.

bill’s jaw goes slack, green eyes raking over her form and igniting richie’s stomach with boiling rage. as if bill’s doing something that only richie is allowed to do – as if they're not both being total creeps.

“h-holy sh-shit. she’s b-beautiful.” bill mumbles. richie elbows him in the ribs, shooting him a glare that prompts an eye-roll from his auburn haired friend.

richie swallows and watches, his throat feeling like sandpaper as she laughs at something the customer in front of them said. bill nudges richie, "i-i'm gonna get a s-seat. t-talk to her."

he winks and grins as he walks away, leaving richie with his reckless self. he thinks he's sweating through his sweater as he walks up, finding himself face-to-face with her. "hi, how can i help you?" she asks, giving him a smile

holyshitholyshitholyshit.

he might've just came right then and there. okay, he's gotta say something cool, something smooth. don't be a dumbass, tozier. 

"howdy, sugar. i'll have my coffee like i like my women." his mouth blurts as his brain sirens go off, PUT ON THE BRAKES, RICH – "a hot shock to the lap.”

she glares at him, cheeks light pink and eyebrows pulled together in annoyance and yep, richie's probably going to get hard because of that look but he's also probably going to toss his body off a bridge because what the fuck, tozier?

he can hear bill laughing quietly from a ways away and he quickly shakes his head, muttering quietly, "jail. jail, richard."

"funny." she deadpans, clearly not amused. because of course she isn't.

"sorry, i'll have a black coffee, y/n." he mutters, eyes widening to himself when he realizes she was not wearing a goddamn name tag and he just said her name.

this is a disaster. she gives him a bewildered, slightly creeped out look and if richie wasn't panicking, he'd gape at how she still managed to be effortlessly gorgeous even now.

he sighs, shaking his head, the door of the cafe opening and blowing a gust of frigid air through the warm room. fitting - douche chill. 

"look, toots, i don't want this to be weird. i- um, i recognize you." he says, cheeks aflame. she raises a brow, face straight for a few moments, unsure what he means.

it's not long after when recognition flashes over her own face - must have ruled out coffee shop, university and her local gym - and she nods with a tight, almost uncomfortable smile. 

he tries not to think of the livestream he watched last night where she showed all her new gifts and modeled lingerie, and how he’d spent his time to himself with his left hand immediately after watching. his cheeks are red with shame. 

"okay." is all she says, writing down a scribbled order on the coffee cup. her eyes shoot back up and give richie a once-over that really makes his fingers itch - god, why did he have to be this way? 

he almost runs his fingers through his curls but decides against it, eyes opting to focus on her own gorgeous eyes as they meet him. "i'm impressed i have a fan who looks like you, i must say. even if you are a complete jack ass." she purrs and his jaw nearly smacks the floor at its velocity as it flies open.

"what's that supposed to mean?" he asks then with a small grin, flattered at the tiniest of compliments that just barely, in his mind, eclipsed the insult that he so very much deserved.

"i'm saying you're kind of a dick. it's too bad, because you're real cute." she says casually, handing him his change. his stomach flips and butterflies release in his chest, a feeling that he's not felt in almost five years.

but damn, of course he messed up - he got the chance to talk to the hottest girl on earth and he started it by saying an awful joke that wasn't funny at all. of course she though he was a dick, he is one.

he's shocked, though, as he waits for his coffee with bill, who is still snickering into his hand every few moments, to find his coffee cup with extra sharpie scribbled on the white paper. a name.

y/n. and below it is a phone number with a small heart scribbled, and richie can't tell if it's a seven or a one but he figures he'd try every phone number in the damn state if it meant he could fucking text her. holy fuck.

"maybe i would like you better if you took off your clothes i'm not playing with you, baby i think that you should give it a go" she said, "maybe i would like you better if you took off your clothes i wanna see, and stop thinking if you're too shy, then let me too shy, then let me know"

he didn't text her for two days and three hours. yes, he counted it. no, he won't think about why he was obsessing over the numbers - but since the time he'd finally had found the courage to text her today, things have escalated proficiently. 

she'd just mentioned how hot it was in her apartment since her heater had gone haywire - even though the winter winds were cold, she'd claimed she was burning up in what she was wearing.

and the mere mention of her clothing had sent richie into somewhat of a spiral, spending at least seven minutes glued to his phone and scrolling through the saved album he had of those photos of her that she'd posted; his sweatpants getting increasingly tight and his palm suddenly aching to slip through the fabric and find some release.

but, in true trashmouth fashion, he apparently needed that sweet, sweet rejection from a hot cam girl he'd somehow weaseled into getting the number of in order to wank off properly, so he types out a text and hits send immediately.

what are you wearing?

and then he almost vomits in embarrassment – what was she going to think? did he just royally fuck up? oh god, he’s going to have to shave his head and move to canada.

his phone buzzes and he nearly passes out when he lays his eyes upon the image attached – there her body is again, curvy and full and beautiful, her skin glowing in the fading light of what he assumes is her bedroom. and with it:

this. what are you wearing, rich?

and then he pulls his gaze from his phone and stands, breathing heavily because holy shit.

he's gotten nudes before, but.... none from someone like her. holy shit.

he walks to his bathroom, splashing water on his beet-red cheeks. he swallows, staring at himself in the mirror. fuck.

he slaps his cheek once, then winking at himself in attempt to muster any sliver of confidence. and then he snaps a picture, only in his boxers.

and then he has to physically refrain from making a joke about wearing the same lingerie set as her, instead sending a flirty text that he knows any other woman would blush at. he just doesn’t know with y/n, and maybe that’s why he loves it so much. she's keeping him on his toes.

you like what you see?

he sends that one afterwards, shaking his head because oh my god, she's going to respond with "no" and then bill him $40 for the nude she sent him. not that he wouldn't pay, but...

his phone dings and he nearly breaks an ankle running to his desk. 

yeah, i do. but maybe i'd like you better without any clothes on.

he almost yells out loud at this, but he has a feeling that waking up stan in the middle of the night would not be optimal after their 'roommate agreement' they'd made that explicitly states richie cannot scream between 1am - 9am. so instead he smirks to himself, face turning red.

he's getting harder by the moment, and as he stares at that picture she'd sent earlier, he lets out a breathy groan. the lace....

we could face time yk

or we don't have to.

he reads her words in live time, watching the thought bubble appear again and watching it like a hawk. he can just imagine her sitting there with a small smirk as another text comes in and he almost groans as his dick twitches.

like, if you're too shy or something ;)

he stares at the screen for two seconds at that sinful photo she'd sent just before those texts and then sighs, shaking his head and pressing the green face-time call button.

i've been wearing nothing every time i call you and i'm starting to feel weird about it sometimes it's better if you think about it this time, i think i'm gonna drink through it

three days later, richie was undeniably and unequivocally drunk. but, as he's just explained about three times to mike, he knows that it is just easier to not think right, especially about her, right now - and the best way to do that is by getting so piss drunk that even if he tried to "hit her line," as he so eloquently put it, his dick would be too whiskey'd out to make a full appearance.

it's for the best. mike had fake gagged at richie’s cadence with a laugh, but richie was dead serious because he was starting to think he had a real issue.

it was obviously just a fun thing to do between two near-strangers, but he'd found that he was starting to almost pavlov-style condition himself into getting turned on every time the name y/n came across his recent texts or face times, and it was getting to be too much.

especially when her post notification popped up and he cracked a fatty in the middle of his econ lecture. christ, the point of elasticity of markers in the u.s. was not something he pictured when he usually had to quell a pitch in his tent. so yeah, it's too much.

because yes, he loves her fucking body and wants nothing more than her, but in truth he longs for the feeling of her skin against his; to touch her, to kiss her, to make her his. all the time.

but yet, it was just a good way to get off without all the strings and ribbons and yarn and whatever the fuck her soft-looking knit bra is made from attached.

so much for not thinking about her.

but i see her online (and don't think that i should be calling) all the time (i just wanted a happy ending) and i'm pretending i don't care about her stare while she's giving me a tough time

it’s noon the next day and he's laying in (for some reason) stan's bed instead of his own with a blinding, mind-splitting headache and an insatiable craving for a cheeseburger, eyes squinting in lust and something akin to shame as he watches the livestream y/n had just started. she’s in a slip – a very thin, silk and see through slip and it makes him more frustrated than he’s willing to admit.

as he stares at her smooth skin and wonders how it'd be to touch it all, her eyes catch something in the chat and she smiles coyly. "hi, rich." she purrs and richie almost chokes - holy shit, she saw him join.

"do you like my gift i just got?" she asks coyly, snapping the straps of her bra with a small smile and he stiffens almost instantly, thinking of how many times he'd seen her skin in videos and photos that were just for him.

how she'd moaned his name two nights ago on face time, her fingers buried inside herself slightly off-camera. and oh, how he wishes he could see all of her, but they'd not crossed that line yet - anything they'd done hadn't been yet proven visually, only from facial expressions, noises, and the brutal honestly of being together through face time.

he wants her so fucking bad, he needs her like he needs water to drink and air to breathe and it's murdering him as he watches her react to the chat of her livestream, playing with the hem of her black lace panties.

god, he needs a cold shower or something if he's going to get anything done today.

and then he's calling her an a few hours after her stream ends because he just can't wait - he feels his stomach twist with shame as he realizes he should not be doing such a certainly a terrible idea. but she answers after three rings. "richie." her siren voice purrs and he literally feels himself fall deeper into the pit.

"hi there, toots. got any coffee in the pot for me?" he asks, sounding surprisingly eloquent compared to how she normally makes him feel. 

she hums in fake thought, and it makes richie grin. she's fucking adorable. "come to the shop, i have my break in ten." and then she hangs up. he sighs, rubbing his face with his hand as he shakes his head. he's utterly fucked.

he's there in record time, a smirk plastered on his face as he walks in and sees her sitting at a table, lookin' all pretty. just for him.

"what made you think of calling?" she says in loo of a greeting. he sits across from her and wills his eyes to meet hers. "nothin' toots." he says with a half shrug, taking a sip of the coffee placed in front of him that has the the name 'dick' written on it in her handwriting. he rolls his eyes affectionately.

"oh, so it wasn't anything to do with my livestream this morning?" she asks with a look, eyeing him. her eyes are swimmable, they hold so many stories and secrets and maybe richie's just hungover, but he's feeling very flustered.

"we-w, uh, no. what... what are you talking about?" he rolls his eyes at himself inwardly, cursing stuttering bill and his contagious speech patterns. "-i don't know what you're talking about, sugar." he recovers fairly smoothly, if he may toot his own horn. and honestly, he can pretend not to care as long as he doesn't look into that goddamn stare of hers.

he chuckles awkwardly, cheeks aflame as she stares at him with a bored look and a small hum. she still looks perfect and he's even more nervous now, because oh god, oh fuck, he's gonna get slapped in the face by y/n.

it was pretty unspoken since they'd started doing... stuff... that richie probably still watched her content online, but she'd never fully addressed it until today during the livestream in front of a thousand others. 

he's choking on his spit in shame but then a smile splits her face and richie's sure he's suffocated on his own saliva and gone to a sinner's heaven. or maybe hell.

"oh, richie, i'm just teasing you. look at your face!" she says with an airy laugh, pinching his cheeks and making him want to shrivel up as he turns even redder. what the fuck? "-so cute. alright, i've got to get back to work. i'll see you around, rich." she says with a wink, taking her coffee and tossing it into the trash bin as she stalks towards the employee back room.

he gapes as he watches her leave and then gets up and makes his way to the exit, clutching the coffee like it was trying to jump out of his grasp and make a run for it. god, she's too much.

"maybe i would like you better if you took off your clothes i'm not playing with you, baby i think that you should give it a go" she said, "maybe i would like you better if you took off your clothes i wanna see, and stop thinking If you're too shy, then let me too shy, then let me know"

"-babe, you'll have to try harder than that." richie says with a chuckle, watching his phone screen as the beautiful girl on face time gives him a sly, challenging look. she's in a green lace bra, one richie's not seen yet and he can feel himself stiffen as she absently trails her fingers over her chest.

they'd been much closer over the last week since he last saw her in person, enough so that in the three-is weeks of knowing her, he's positive he's head over ass for her in a way that he shouldn't be. and yet, she still comes back every time, still texts him and answers those face time calls. he's baffled, honestly.

"i know you hate me because i'm right." he adds, not even totally remembering what point he's trying to prove as y/n shifts back a bit and more of her body is revealed, her hair glowing dimly in the soft lighting of her room. his eyes run over her curves, her full thighs and stomach and hips that fill over her panties and he almost groans.

"whatever, maybe i'd like you better if you took off your clothes." she says coyly. and richie's half flattered, as usual, but the more he thinks of it the more deflated he feels. he kind of thought they were growing something more than just getting each other off over face time like horny fifteen year olds. he grins nonetheless.

"you say that a lot, you know." richie says breathlessly as he stares at her. she tilts her head ever so slightly and grins, biting her lip as her eyes move around her screen with a conflicted look. "-why?" he adds.

she hums again.

"well. okay, so there's the visual world - like, the internet, onlyfans, instagram- it tells us that everything is amazing. and we should want everything. and it makes us yearn for everything that we don’t have and everything that’s unobtainable. you know, love, a relationship beyond physical. and even physical, it's different when it's online."

her words confuse him much more than they aid him. "you think... that because of the internet, love is unattainable?" he asks with furrowed brows, unsure how somebody so perfect and, quite frankly, lovable, would think that.

"it is for me." she says it with a small sense of forlorning but mostly it's whispered. enough that richie's heart skips a beat and he's, for the first time, not having a hard time keeping his eyes on her face instead of her body.

"what?" he asks dumbly. she just laughs, shaking her head and he stares at her on his tiny phone screen in the dark.

"that’s something that, you know. in real life, person to person, it has a lot of connotations of... trust and vulnerability and connection. doing what i do- and what we're doing… on the internet - it has the opposite of those connotations. like, before you, i didn't- i didn't really do this, i just was selling stuff. because guys don't want to fuck the girl who sells her body online. and you know now, i want to..." she trails off and richie doesn't dare interrupt her because he thinks she's about to say something he's wanted to tell her for a while now.

"i don't know, i guess. exploring someone's body in physical presence isn't seen at all as voyeuristic, or anything apart from...like, an intimate exchange." she says it casually, brushing hair from her face and shit, richie's swooning. he's in fucking love, he knows it, because y/n is so smart and intelligent and he's so fucking trashed for her. as she speaks, her hands move and distract him slightly from her body, doused in blue light from the screen and splayed out for him and only him on her phone camera.

the soft lace on her hips and chest make his body stiffen and it causes him to suppress a groan as she sighs, but richie knows he can’t screenshot this heavenly sight because she’ll definitely notice and she can probably already tell he’s having a hard time not staring at her alluring figure as she talks.

"-whereas, you know. as soon as it happens on the internet, it becomes kinky and cam-girly. and, you know, that's fine. i love doing it. it's just, i'm not sure where the authentic communication even is now. or if i get to have a happy ending." she says and he finally sees her blush for the first time.

he wishes he was there with her, he wishes that he could touch the redness on her cheeks and caress her curvy body and taste her skin on his tongue. he wants to feel himself inside her, he wants to be with her and kiss her lips and yet he can't, so he sighs and shifts in his position, moving to turn up the brightness of his phone so he can see better.

"shouldn't you get to be the one to decide that, doll?" is all he adds. because he feels kind of lost and just as confused as y/n is with this.

he's starting to feel weird about it, because... is this authentic? what makes things like hookups or whatever the hell they've been doing authentic? shouldn't this be easy? it's just phone sex, phone sex with a really hot girl.

a girl who is complex and alive and full of sincerity and richie is definitely falling harder than he should.

she just sighs but makes no other comment. and then they just stare at each other, richie's face illuminated in his dark room by the phone's reflection.

well, i found a motel it looked like the bins i think there'd been a murder so we couldn't get in i need to get back i've gotta see the girl on the screen

"come over and watch a movie with me." he says into the phone, biting his lip. the silence from the other end of the line is deafening as she makes her decision, because they both know she's not about to come over just to watch the shining or psycho. 

they've never done that before, and richie knows if she does come over, then whatever they have will crash down in a fiery mess. and he hates how excited that makes him as he waits in silence for her to drop the ball. so to speak.

"okay." she says, sounding shocked herself, and richie can't contain the excited grin from eclipsing his face. "yeah?" he asks breathlessly, and she's quiet for a little longer. "yeah. text me your address." 

she hangs up after that, and richie's thumbs shake as he types his address and sprints out to where stan, mike, ben, and bill are playing video games in he and stan's living room, wheezing at all of them to get out because someone fucking unbelievable is about to walk through that door.

she's there about an hour later, cheeks flushed when richie opens his door, looking just as nervous and flustered. "hi, chee." she says breathlessly, staring up at him with those goddamn eyes, the eyes that pulled him in the first time. his stomach flips in affection at her nickname and he offers her a drink as she takes in his shitty apartment. he wonders briefly if stan ended up buying that rosé that he'd given him shit for considering, and then prays that stan will stay the night elsewhere.

she's already pouring out glasses of wine when he snaps back to reality, and he grins at her, mumbling in thanks as she passes him a glass that's certainly poured almost to the brim.

"what are we watching, then?" she asks coyly, lifting a brow at him. his cheeks are red, but he tugs her arm down the hall towards his room with a grin, their wine sloshing from their glasses as they move erratically.

"we're watching psycho, y/n/n." he says as he pulls her into his room, glancing back to see she's already swallowed down almost half her glass, a lipstick stain on the side of it. faintly he knows stan will be frustrated if richie doesn't clean that off, but he's more distracted by her lips.

"i like psycho." she says with a nod and a cheeky grin, "the whole 'voyeuristic gaze' thing with hitchcock." she mumbles, and richie recalls faintly learning about that in one of his film classes freshman year and he grins as he takes a hefty gulp of his rosé, figuring he's already given himself away and if she's going to do that, he can too.

he hums, setting down his glass and grabbing hers to set it besides his on the bedside table. he turns around, intending on grabbing his laptop so they could watch the film, but she's so much closer that he'd expected and her hands fall onto his shoulders and he almost shits himself.

unpleasant, but honest. just richie's style.

"can i try something?" she asks with a grin, and richie nods, knowing that she could do anything to him and he'd gladly let it happen and most likely pay out of pocket for the damages afterwards.

and then she's pulling him from her grip on his shoulders, her lips sliding against his and making him grip her hips. his mind almost explodes at with y/n-sensory-overload because he feels her everywhere - on his lips, against his hands, on his shoulders, and pressing against his front.

her lips taste like chamomile and rosé.

she thinks his lips taste like vanilla and cigarette smoke, just as she'd always imagined. he feels so real, pressed against her lips and his body against hers, and she sighs as her tongue slips into his mouth because god, she's needed him for so long. and now she has him.

his hands move, touching every inch of her as their tongues fight for dominance. she pulls back, smirking as she gently pushes him onto his mattress, sliding onto his lap smoothly afterwards, grinding her hips against his slowly.

the moan he emits is heavenly and she could cry because she finally gets to hear it in person and not through the crackling static frequency of the phone.

so she grinds down on him again, eager to feel all of him. he's hardening against her core and she whimpers into his mouth in need as his fingers slip under her top, rubbing circles on her bare skin and making her shiver. she's noticed to this gentleness; it was rare when she did get to enjoy the comfort of another body with her own, and when she did they were hardly half as loving or caring as him.

she's desperate now, she needs to feel him inside her after all these weeks of teasing and waiting, so her hand snakes down to palm him through his sweats. he lets out a small groan into her mouth, biting her lip as he pulls back slightly. their eyes meet and his are hooded with lust, lips parted as she pumps him slowly from outside his sweats. his hips buck up lightly into her palm and she smiles gently, kissing him slowly.

"let me make you feel good, y/n." he mutters, eyes pleading as he stares up at her. her stomach flutters with butterflies and she nods, shocked that he wants to pleasure her.

he gently pulls her off his lap until she's laying on his mattress and he stares down at her, biting his lip as he takes her in. he can't fucking believe she's really here. she slowly pulls off her top, leaving her in her bra and jeans as she stares up at him with a wry, seductive smile. then she unzips her jeans and slides them off, leaving her in his favorite set of hers - black, lacy, and revealing. she looks utterly stunning and he groans, his hands falling to run over the skin, tracing the lace on her breasts. her cheeks are red as she gazes up at him.

"touch me, richie." she orders and he almost groans as he drags his lips over the valley of her breasts, sucking on the soft flesh and admiring the splashes of budding purple and pink that he's created. her heartbeat is quick under his fingertips and he moves to unclip her bra, kissing her skin as the fabric falls away.

she's slightly cold in his room, and goosebumps appear over her flesh as richie leans to catch a nipple in her mouth, flicking his tongue over the sensitive bud. she lets out a quiet whine that has richie rutting into the mattress next to her, his fingers trailing down to dance at the waistline of her underwear.

and then he's pulling aside her panties, his fingers running up and down her slick folds and making her jump in lust. he can't wait, just like her, and he's rubbing her clit teasingly as she pleads, "chee, please."  her eyes are eyes closed in bliss as his finger slips inside her, crooking slightly as he moves it. he presses his lips to the skin of her breast, pumping his finger and then soon adding another, crooking them both in a way that makes her let out guttural moans of pleasure. he marks her breasts with littered pink and red marks, smiling to himself at her figure.

she can't help but swoon as she watches him, his hair in his face slightly until she brushes it back, his fingers curling inside her and making her gasp, pleasure coursing through her body. his thumb softly comes up to rub her neglected clit and she grabs his shoulders to steady herself, the pleasure almost too much.

she's honestly slightly shocked - knowing richie as little as she really does outside of the literal booty calls at two in the morning and the accumulative forty five minutes they'd spent in person, she'd expected him to be... well, good. just good. because there's no way someone so funny, caring, and smart could also be that good in the sheets.

but right now, he's making her see goddamn stars.

"i've been wanting to touch you for so long, sugar." he mutters, eyes raking over her figure as her breath comes in stuttering gasps. she watches him with blown-wide eyes as his demeanor changes right before her, making her fall apart at his fingertips.

"that feel good, honey?" he asks, smirking as she whimpers, clenching around his fingers. "yes, god you feel so good." she utters, making him groan in approval from where he's sat back, watching her face contort in pleasure. she lets out another moan and richie stares at her body, watching his fingers as they fuck into her. he can't take it, then.

"will you sit on my face, doll?" he blurts, and she nearly yelps out as his fingers leave her. it's abrupt, but she's started to notice that this is how he operates - impulsivity is his second nature. and she loves it.

her face burns as she nods, the thought of richie under her making her whimper with anticipation. "yes, richie, please." she moans out again and he's grinning, laying back on the mattress with a wink. "c'mere, need to taste that pretty little pussy." he mutters and she feels herself clench around nothing, desperate for him as she swings a leg around to straddle his head.

immediately, his hands wrap around her thighs, thumbs smoothing over her stretch marks as he stares up at her, eyes glinting with desire. slowly, his finger pulls the seat of her lace panties to the side and his breath hits her bare, throbbing pussy, making her breath hitch. she cards her fingers through his hair and lowers herself slightly, gasping in shock as his tongue darts out to lick a bold stripe up from her entrance to her clit.

"chee," she moans out, tightening her grip in his hair and sending a groan through his body that reverberates and makes her shiver. his lips attach to her clit and fiery pleasure snakes through her body making her legs shake, a moan escaping her lips immediately. he sucks lightly before releasing to swirl his tongue, her moans making richie impossibly harder through his sweats.

"so good, rich." she mutters and he groans, tongue spreading her wet folds and slowly prodding at her entrance, dipping in slowly before pulling out, teasing her.

she can't help but grind down slightly, making richie grip her tightly, tongue sliding into her again and making her yelp. "you taste so good, baby." he mutters lowly before slowly reattaching himself to her heat, her eyes rolling slightly at the sensation as he fucks his tongue into her. one of his hands snakes up to her ass, gripping it tightly and then slapping it, the stinging pleasure making her buck her hips against him, emitting a hiss from her.

"rich, i-" she cuts herself off with a sharp gasp, the pleasure from richie's mouth making it increasingly harder to speak. her toes curl and her head tilts back as his tongue flicks over her clit, teeth grazing it slightly and making her buck.

she's embarrassingly close already, and judging by the way richie's smirking under her, he can tell. "please, please." she mutters, hips rocking on him as his tongue swirls, nipping softly at her clit and making her cry out. "please, make me cum, 'chee." she mutters and his tongue moves quicker, hand slapping her ass again.

and then she's clenching her thighs on either side of him and grinding down as she hits her peak, moaning quietly as she shakes in pleasure on top of him. he rides through her high, lapping at her and pulling away with a grin as she moans his name dejectedly. she's worn out from the best orgasm she's ever had and he gently nudges her so he slides in between her thighs, her back now on the mattress. he kisses her cheek and she keens quietly.

"fuck me, richie." she mutters, eyes still closed. his eyes snap to hers, surprised at the dominance in her voice after how she was two seconds ago.

he moans quietly, kissing her deeply as he ruts against her and relishes in the feeling. he's pulling off his sweats and boxers in record time and then he's pumping himself as he grips her hips, turning her so she's on her stomach, ass propped up slightly. his hand runs over the smooth skin of her ass, snapping the elastic of her panties and making her moan quietly.

then he's lining up her hips with his, pulling aside the lacy seat of her underwear to press against her entrance. he waits a moment as he leans to press a soft kiss to her spine, slowly easing into her. she moans loudly as he eases in, her face pressing against the pillows. she smiles as she smells the scent she'd just recently come to know as his, his cock stretching her and filling her up fully as he buries himself to the hilt inside her.

"so tight, sugar." he mutters and she whimpers, getting antsy as she adjusts to his size. "richie, please, need it so bad." she mutters, bucking her hips back against him in need.

"say that again." he mutters, sounding strangled, and she grins into the sheets. "please fuck me, richie. need it so bad, need to feel you ruin me." she whimpers, chest fluttering in anticipation. his hands grip her hips as he pulls out of her slowly, almost as slowly as he entered, before stopping almost all the way out. she moans loudly in pleasure as he pushes back in, snapping his hips against hers and filling her completely.

she briefly thanks god that his roommate seemed to be out for the night as she moans his name loud enough for the neighbors to hear.

he sets a brutal pace, his cock thick as it fills her up and makes her toes curl. he pushes her hair away from her neck and presses kisses to it as he hits a spot inside her that makes her scream his name. his fingers move to pinch her nipples, rolling them as he fucks into her.

she's completely blissed out at the feeling of him inside her, so glad that he invited her over and that they finally get to touch each other. "rich, oh my god." she emits, eyes squinted shut in complete pleasure.

"fuck, toots, takin' me so well, aren't you?" he asks, hands kneading her ass before slapping her right ass cheek harshly, making her arch her back. at the new angle they both let out a groan and richie knows he'll fucking cum too soon if they stay like this, so without warning he pulls out completely.

y/n whines, breathing heavily as his hands come to flip her around. now on her back, they make eye contact and she bites her lip, pulling him in for a searing kiss that knocks the wind out of both of them. images of richie in his room alone, snaps and late-night face times play through her mind as he grips her and slides her hips down towards him on the mattress and lines himself to her again, pulling her legs up so they're against his chest before pushing in.

he gives no time to adjust to this angle and it makes her moan loudly as he hits a spot deep inside her that pulls her closer and closer to her second orgasm.

his name leaves her cherry lips like a mantra and he can't stop staring at her as he fucks her into the mattress - the way her tits bounce with his brutal pace, the way her face is twisted in pleasure, the way she clenches and spasms around his cock.

one hand grips her breast, rubbing her nipple with his thumb and forefinger as he kisses her again, addicted to her taste as he feels himself coming closer and closer to the edge.

"chee, fuck, right there." she moans out and he groans in pleasure, the feeling of her walls clenching around him making his hips stutter. he keeps his thrusts up, though, as her fingernails rake down his back leaving small trails of burning pleasure in their wake.

her skin is covered with a sheen line of sweat as she looks up at him, hair wild and lips kiss-bruised. "god, don't stop, 'm gonna cum." she mutters and he snaps his hips harder, eager to make her cum so hard all she can think of is his name.

he moves a hand down to rub at her clit and he moans into her neck as she clenches hard around him, her hips bucking spastically. he can tell she's about to cum, and after a hard thrust, she does for the second time, spasming around him and sending waves of pleasure up his body. she's moaning his name, pulling him closer in bliss as she becomes sensitive and god damn it, she's so fucking beautiful.

"please cum, richie." she whispers against his lips, "please."  and then at her will, he's spilling into her, hips stuttering as he pushes as deep into her as he can, loving how she clenches in sensitivity around him. he stays inside her for a moment as they breathe, coming down from their highs and eyes closed as they take in what just happened.

"holy shit." he says because yeah, that's like all he can say right now because he just got to fuck y/n and she's kissing his fucking collarbones right now and its making him blush and his heart flutter.

"that was...incredible." she whispers against his skin and he can feel her smile against his skin. it makes him feel all soft inside as he pulls out of her and flops next to her, kissing her forehead.

his fingers flutter over her sensitive core, smiling as he sees how wrecked she is, some cum dripping down her leg. he then soothes over the lace panties, patting her lightly and kissing her red cheek.

"rich?" she asks, making him look up at her. he hums in question, pushing some of her hair back. "can we still watch the movie?"

his heart swells and he grins, kissing her softly. "of course, doll. you're too cute." he says with a wink, making her roll her eyes. he hands her his shirt and then pulls sweats on himself, mumbling "stay here" and padding out to the kitchen to get her water and snacks,  then returning minutes later to see her holding his phone in her clutch with a smirk.

"what're you doing?" he asks with a smile, but she shakes her head, making grabby hands for him and the snacks. so he laughs, cuddling up with the girl of his dreams and watching a flick, falling sleep with tangled limbs and a lipstick-stained neck.

and after she leaves the next morning with a kiss and a wink, he checks his phone and smirks to himself as he notices the lock screen she'd apparently made last night while he was making snacks.

a photo of her in his bed, wearing his shirt, a soft smirk on her face, neck littered in budding hickeys and a hand between her thighs next to her black lace panties.

god, she's going to be the absolute death of him.

//tag list:  @gabiatthedisco @blisshemmings @simplesammyx @dickology64 @clownsloveyou @emnotm @moon-shine-baby @toziershmozier @daughter-of-the-stars11 @lets-vibe-bro @trashedfortozier @oceandog13 @beauregard-s@finnskindofwoman  @kait-tozier @upamongthestarss \\

#richie tozier x reader #richie tozier smut #richie has adhd #losers x reader #losers club x reader

[whump-town]

Here are some mini fics I have but lack the stability to create into full fics ( @clockedstar​ idea tasteuflly thrown in, as well) Warning for language (I have a potty mouth)

The Perfect Match

He’d promised and like everything good in his life he’d messed that up too. 

He’d promised and alone she had gone to her mother’s gala in Washington D.C. With him nowhere by her side, she spends hours rejecting the advances of too many men to count. Some, she knows, are sent by her mother. Aaron Hotchner is a good man but her mother suspects she can do better-- more political, is what she means. A man who is there more and a man whose face isn’t constantly decorated with bruises and cuts from his dangerous job. 

A man likely to survive long enough to retire.

And, what she loves most about him, is that he’s hours late and the gala is really over but he still comes.

He’s in a dirty suit and a white t-shirt that will never come clean in the wash. None of that matters. The men around him are in their best tuxedos and his hair hasn’t been combed in days. Still, the moment he sees her he cracks the biggest smile and buries his face in her bare shoulder. 

“You look stunning,” he compliments, shaking his head. Red is her color. So is green and blue and he'll remind her this tell the day he dies, because every color is her color. 

The crimson of her dress matches the blood caked to his skin. The blood staining his t-shirt. He’ll tell her later that it’s nothing too serious and when her fingers tear down his shield, and unbutton his shirt, she’ll find a cut right over his heart. 

For now, she runs her hand up the back of his neck, further messing up his hair. She likes this look. Not the bruises and the exhaustion she can read across his shoulders but the way he makes her feel home. The way his skin melts into hers and they’re just one person tangled in this impossible mess. 

She kisses his jaw, “you look like shit.” Just over his shoulder is a ballroom of younger men. Men who have more money and more time and who don’t smell like they haven’t showered in days. Men who have skin unmarked by serial killers and minds that don’t trick them at night. In her arms, though, is the only man she wants. The only man she has eyes for.

He chuckles, withdrawing himself from her hold enough to be able to look into her eyes.  

She knows his body better than he does. The glint in his eyes that says he loves her and he’s sorry and fuck, he wants to go home and curl into bed and forget this week he’s had. So she wraps her arm around his hips and pulls him close, whispering temptation into his ear about what she might do to him later. Knowing damn well that he’ll fall asleep the moment his head hits the pillow but it makes him blush and that’s all she wanted anyways.

Arms circling one another, they walk out side-by-side. 

He looks like he’s been run over by car. Covered in bruises and dried blood and a suit that’s ruined. While her hair bounces in it’s perfect curls and each step she takes is measured by her ballgown’s soft whoosh and her heels tapping along the marble floor. 

The perfect match.

Habits

Stoic, cold, and removed.

Everyday she hears the office throw these words at his back. She won’t waste her breath denying that he’s anything but. Because everyday he comes home and she undoes those web of lies. And how could they know any better? His coping mechanism is to shut down and it’s always worked… well, mostly.

If only they could see him in the depths of one of his many rants. Walking about their kitchen in nothing but his boxers, that character defining scowl slapping inplace as he tells her about social injustice. As he rants and raves until his heart is content. It’s into her arms that he tucks himself when he’s cooled off and resigned to the fact that no matter what they do, it will never be enough.

Aaron Hotchner wants to save the world but what can you do for a world unwilling to save itself?

He likes to spend Saturdays tucked away. In those early mornings he’s nearly successfully hiding himself from the whole world, only coming out for snacks and the need to be hugged every once in a while. Because he’s so tactile in his love. 

She doesn’t know what it’s like to cook without him standing over her. Hovering and talking and touching her shoulders or her hips because she can spend a whole day doing nothing but holding him and the moment she pulls away he’ll come with her, seeking more.

And people will ask her about their love.

Mistaking him as cruel and cold-- even their friends. It’s so hard to conceive him as anything but Agent Hotchner. 

But she loves him as Agent Hotchner and as Hotch and as Aaron. 

It breaks her heart to know that others don’t get to see him ranting like a nut in the middle of the night. His latest infatuation clutched in his hand. He’s loving and stark raving mad. But she wouldn’t trade those midnight rants for anything in the world. 

They won’t know that he sleeps on his stomach, half-rolled overtop her. That he likes to be held and he’s much to big for that but she holds him anyways. There is so much that they just don’t know.

He likes it when she scratches his back and if she rocks her body, it’ll put him to sleep right where he stands. That he has an entire library filled with books he’s collected and read over and over since he was in middle school. He gives her book recommendations-- just a simple book on her nightstand and a stick-note giving his own description of the book. 

He’s thoughtful and he’s kind and he’s so fucking aggravating.

He loves winter and she loves summer. 

He hates laying in a blanket but is always cold.

He likes to go walking in the snow and always forgets a hat. 

He’s prone to ear infections but refuses to take medicine for them.

He’s the most aggravating man she’s ever met. It’s unnecessary to die on the hills he’s firmly plants himself on and yet she finds herself crawling back for more. She loves nothing as much as she loves when he presses his face to her neck and wraps his body around her. She loves that he’s able to cry in the safety of her arms and that he laughs without abandon about the stupidest things.

But, God, she loves him.

Mirror

With all the gentleness she can manage, she brushes a tear away from his eyes. “Look at me,” she commands, softly. For years, and days, and cases, and excruciating long hours--- God, she just wants him to look at her. To be seen in that way he analyzes the whole world. For his soft eyes to see her as she is and trust her. To let her be this person. The person who puts him back together and takes him apart and reads him like her favoirte book.

Because he’s her favorite person.

“I can’t,” his voice breaks and he pushes his head back against her skin. 

He’s horrible. Mangled. The world has picked him up and damaged him so many times that he.... He fucks her in the dark with a shirt on. He only looks in the mirror if it’s fogged from the shower. He’s learned to shave by touch and not sight. Because he can’t-- he can’t look at himself. He can’t stand the sight of his own face so how is he supposed to expect her to?

Her lips find his and no matter how tightly he squeezes his eyes shut, the tears still fall. Because she could do better. Emily Prentiss has seduced men around the world. She could have a dictator or a millionaire and here she sits, instead. With him.

“I love you,” she whispers against his lips. “I love you.” And it doesn’t matter how many times she has to say it. She’ll remind him until spring and until his hair has grown white and with her dying breath-- “I love you.” 

And one day, he’ll realize she means it.

The Chains

There’s a single terrified scream that rings out through the room. For a moment, she mistakes it as her own plagued dreams. Sitting up she combs her fingers through her hair. Pushing flyaway strands of hair back out of her face. It takes her too long to realize it has nothing to do with her own dreams. 

“Aaron!” 

He’s crying out, thrashing in his panic to get untangled from the sheets. 

“Shh,” she has to dodge his quick, uncoordinated blows. If he hits her, she doesn’t feel it because what she’s worried about is the terrified screams leaving his mouth as he keeps trying to push away whatever he’s imagining. “Aaron,” she calls out. “Aaron wake up!”

He falls to the floor, moving himself until he hits the wall behind him. 

She tries to follow.

“No!” His shaking hands are raised between them. “No, please.” His chest is heaving, his face flushed. “Don’t touch me,” he pleads. “I don’t want to hurt you too.”

He’d done it. Snapped. Broken like his father had always said. Good for nothing--- and he’d found them all. Hunched over and begging and pleading and please stop, Hotch. Don’t! He’d held Jack’s broken body in his arms. Wilted and limp. He’d taken the life of his own son and then he’d turned and done it again and again---

“Please,” he sobs, blood still warm and wet on his hands. He forces himself to his feet, shaking so bad he falls back to his knees. “I’ll-- I’ll sleep on the couch.” He can still hear Morgan’s shout, the other man trying to pull him off of Dave. He can feel his split knuckles and the blood on his wrist, the look of horror on JJ’s face.

He’d killed them.

“Aaron,” Emily breathes, moving swiftly to palace herself between the door and him. “Stop--” she doesn’t touch him. She’s afraid of the noise that might tear out of his mouth if she does. “Stop,” she says, this time voice unwavering and calm. 

He’s not here. Not well or centered. “Get out,” he whispers, rubbing his hands down his pants. “Get out!” He throws his body forward and she’d be more afraid if she actually thought he might hit her. But the anger he means to throw at her is just fear. “Get out! Get out, please!”

So, she leaves. She caves.

As she shuts their bedroom door, she sits herself down on the floor. “I’ll be right here,” she says. “I’ll be here if you need me Aaron.” 

She can hear him pacing in the room. He sobs brokenly.

“Just breathe, baby.” She places her hand against the door, wishing she could be in there. He’d calm down if she could hold him. To reign him back down. “You’re okay,” she reminds him. “It was just a  dream. No matter how real it seemed. You’re okay. I’m okay.” It’s a stream of conscious thoughts that she just lets fall out of her mouth. “It was just a dream, Aaron.”

But he can’t wash their blood off his hands. 

“-- there's no way you could forget but do you remember when we tried to do it in the hammock?” She hasn’t stopped talking in… whenever it was that they parted ways. Her soft voice has been trickling through the room the whole time. The only real thing he can identify. “To be fair,” she says, “I didn’t think we’d end up in the hospital because of that.” 

His first ever sex injury. She’d been a mix of embarrassed, so very sorry, and proud. They were trying something new! No reason to be ashamed of that!

“I just remember looking at you in that hospital bed and thinking about how totally in love I was.” She leans her head back against the door. “Well, I was also thinking about how if we just lowered it a little more, you could hold the hammock steady and I could be on top--” she shakes her head. “Not the point.”

He wipes his nose with the back of his hand, lowering himself to the floor. He slowly inches closer to the door until his head is leaning against the frame, too. Until he’s as close as he can be… without putting her in danger. In danger of being close to him. 

“I just…” she sighs. “I don’t know if you’ve fallen asleep yet but, if you’re awake, I need you to know that I love you, Aaron.”

He shuts his eyes against the tears threatening to fall.

“I love you so much and when you’re okay, when you’re ready, I’m gonna hold you for so long.” She sniffles, wiping away the tear that falls down her cheek.  “I mean it,” she says. “You’re going to be so tired of me you’ll beg me to let you go but I won’t.” She smiles, “and we’ll just have to stay like that forever.”

It makes him smile. 

“I love you,” she repeats once again. “I mean that.”

She runs out of things to talk about around four in the morning. He’s stopped moving around the room and her curiosity gets the best of her. Knees giving heavy protests, she climbs to her feet. She hesitates before she opens the door. If he’s sleeping she doesn’t want to wake him but she also doesn’t want to come in if he’s not ready.

“Aaron?” She cracks the door open and frowns when she sees the bed’s empty. “Where--” she almost kicks him. 

He stirs when she stops, having made a soft noise in her surprise. Blinking slowly he looks up at her, wincing at the light coming from the hall. Where she expects some trepidation or maybe fear she finds nothing but soft vulnerability. “Did you mean it?” he asks, eyes slivers.

It takes her a moment to understand what he’s asking. Without a word passed between them, she pulls the comforter off of their bed. Settling down on the floor beside him she pulls the blanket around both of them. “You mean cuddling you until we both die?”

He smirks and presses his face into her neck. 

She wraps her arms around his shoulders. “There’s nothing I would rather spend my life doing.”

#soft aaron hotchner #emily prentiss #aaron hotchner #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #hotchniss

[heyyyharry]

Chapter 4: Chasing Shadows

(from ‘The Winter and The Crown’)

…in which Harry keeps visiting the same place in his dreams.

Word count: 8.8k

AU: queen!y/n, commander!harry

Description: Y/N and Harry set off on a new adventure to find ‘the cure’ for an ancient curse, meanwhile, the enemies are plotting to take her kingdom.

Wattpad link (Reyna as Y/N)

ANNOUNCEMENT:

For the next two weeks, I’ll be extremely busy with two exams and my job and all that adult stuff (ugh). I’ll still post blurbs and take a two-week break from the series.

***Chapter 5 will be posted on Wednesday, August 26, 2020.

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.

.

“Do I really have to be tied to a chair?”

“Yes.”

Y/N took a little knife from the tray the guard was holding, holding back a grin as Harry flicked his eyes between the blades, her and the two men in armours.

“My anxiety is peaking right now,” he said.

She snorted and waved the knife in front of his face, finding it entertaining how his breath caught as he recoiled. “Don’t worry. I used to do this for my father and brother.”

“I don’t remember what those people looked like so I cannot be sure you’re good at it.”

Y/N pressed her lips into a smile. “You’ve never met my father. And you probably shouldn’t remember my brother.” Especially when Egon had been haunting most of her nightmares.

“Sorry…” Harry mumbled. “Let’s not talk about your family then.”

“Let’s not talk at all.” She just wanted to get this done and leave. If he said something that hurt her again, she might just cry in front of him and that would be embarrassing.

Slowly and cautiously, her trembling fingers reached for his face. She was indecisive about how she should touch him, as for him, hers would be the touch of a stranger; she wouldn’t want a stranger to just grab her face and angle it however they liked. But then Harry’s mouth curled to one side and he nudged her hand with his cheek like a horse.

“You can touch me. I'm clean. They gave me a bath this morning.” His cheek felt warm against her skin and she moved her thumb gently over his stubble beard. He grinned at her tentative touch. “It was very...new,” he said, “to have five men watching you bathe.”

She couldn’t help but giggle, gaining more confident to slide her hand down to his jaw, lifting his face. “I wouldn’t even go near you if you smelled bad.”

Harry raised an eyebrow.

“What?”

“You didn’t say ‘no offence’, so I’m offended.”

He was doing it again – cracking jokes when he didn’t have to – because silence pained him. He was just as nervous as she was. And somehow knowing that made her feel more comfortable.

She lifted the knife and felt him grow tenser as she approached. “Stay still and I’ll try not to cut you.”

“Try?” His eyes grew big. Her mouth twitched as she shushed him and started on the left side of his face.

She’d lied. She’d not cut her father’s and brother’s hair nor shaved their beards; she just wanted Harry to trust her. Before this, he would have trusted her even if she’d held the knife whose blade was buried in his chest. Now they had to start over. It wasn’t easy to win his trust; neither was it to win hers.

She finished shaving the right side of his face without having cut him. His breathing steady as he relaxed into his seat. Their eyes met by accident, and the knot in her stomach also relaxed. They didn’t converse until she was done.

She put the knife back on the tray and picked up a sharp pair of scissors when the sound of the large door to the dungeon made her jump. Footsteps descended the stairs. And Lance emerged at the cell door.

Harry scoffed. “Has everyone in the castle been invited to see me get a haircut?”

Y/N ignored him and asked Lance, “Is everything all right?”

“Yeah,” he said, squaring his shoulders as he leaned back against the wall. “I’m just here to make sure he won’t lay a finger on my betrothed.”

Y/N shot him a warning look, and Harry asked, “What’s a betrothed?”

The question nagged at her yet she did not let it show. She’d explained the word to him before; she’d been six and he’d been eight. Back then he hadn’t known who she was and yet the memory had also been erased.

“Do you always talk this much?” she heard Lance ask Harry, probably to distract him from her unusual pause. But Harry didn’t look at Lance. He tilted his head to the side and asked her, “Are you feeling unwell? We can do this another time.”

“I’m fine.” She forced a grin so he wouldn’t suspect it. Her Harry would be able to see right through that. This Harry was completely oblivious to her hurt feelings.

Y/N brushed off the uneasiness and pressed her hand into Harry’s curls, being as careful as she could to test the water. She could feel both Lance’s and Harry’s gaze on her as she started cutting with experimental motions at first, and grew more confident with every snip of the scissors.

An evil idea crossed her mind. She considered giving him the stupidest haircut to make him pay for having put her through all this misery. Then, she saw that soft look in his eyes and the thought vanished as soon as it’d appeared.

Why was she mad at him? It wasn’t his fault that he didn’t remember anything. It was her fault that he was like this. Harry wouldn’t be mad at her if she were the one who forgot; he’d be patient with her because he loved her.

He loved me, she told herself. Not anymore.

She set aside all the longing to focus on trimming the back and sides of his head and ended up in front of him again. With a last snip of the scissors, brown hair floated to the floor. She took a step back to assess her work, widening her focus to take in more than just his hair. The transformation left her speechless. She hadn’t thought he would look this good with short hair. All the ladies in court were going to throw themselves at him as if they hadn’t tried before.

“It’s bad, isn’t it?” Harry asked, his face taut with distress. “How long do I have to hide in the dark until it looks normal again?”

Y/N let a smile sneak onto her lip as she lifted his face with the handle of the scissors under his chin. “It’s good. I’m good. Lance, what do you think?”

“Average,” Lance said without a second thought, his expression neutral. “I mean him. Not your work.”

Y/N glared at him, and he shrugged as Harry let out a scoff. “Jealousy doesn’t look good on you, Your Majesty.”

“Stop it. Both of you,” Y/N snapped as she put the scissors back on the tray.

Lance didn’t say another word and ordered the two guards to come with him. She knew he did it on purpose to let her be alone with Harry. If only she could tell Lance how grateful she was. They hadn’t been talking since Harry had returned.

The door above the stairs fell shut, the sound echoing across the dungeon. Y/N had her dagger at her waist and Harry was tied to a chair and unarmed, so if he tried something, she’d be able to take him. She went behind him to untie his wrists, and as slowly as she could, closed her fingers around the hilt of her dagger.

But Harry didn’t make a move. He sat there as she returned to stand in front of him. His eyes dropped to her chest, and her face burned red as she thought he was staring at her cleavage. It took her a second to realize it was the bruised marks around her neck that were holding his attention.

Without saying a word, he reached out his hand, and she gripped her dagger as he touched her there, grazing his thumb gently over the skin. “It looks worse,” he said, his forehead creased. “Does it hurt?”

She slowly shook her head. Her brain was telling her to step back because he was dangerous and his kindness might be fake, but every other piece of her wanted to hold him and never let go until the old Harry crawled back to the surface and loved her again.

“How about your wounds?” she asked, pointing to his torso. “You got a pretty bad one there.”

He wiggled his brows teasingly. “How do you know?”

She rolled her eyes. “I saw the attacker aim for that spot before I was shot.”

“Oh…” He shifted a bit in his chair, rubbing his hands against his thighs. Meanwhile, she took in his new appearance, trying to get used to it. He looked like a prince. With a crown, he could be Lance’s equal. Something stirred inside her. He could be a completely different man now. What if she’d lost him forever?

“How long do I have to stay here?” he asked.

She blinked. “What?”

“How long do I have to stay here?” he repeated the question, looking rather anxious. “I don’t–I don’t think my memory’s coming back.”

A thin edge of hurt worked its way under her skin as she tried not to let it show by keeping a straight face.

Harry combed his fingers through his hair, faltering as the unfamiliarity caught him by surprise. He swallowed dryly and went on, “So if you’re hoping to get some information out of me, I don’t think I’ll be able to help you. I cannot stay here forever.”

Y/N knew that. Right from the start, she should have known that he didn’t belong here. If she hadn’t been so selfish and begged him to stay in the North, he might have travelled the world and been married by now, with children and a wife who was gentle and kind and wouldn’t keep him in the dark or put him in danger.

“I cannot send you back to the South if that’s what you’re asking,” she said. “No one from the North is allowed to cross the South’s border.”

“I know,” he sighed and dropped his gaze to his feet. “Can I at least see Kenny? She’s the only family I’ve got here…” Y/N swallowed as she averted her eyes and clenched her fists. He didn’t notice how agitated she’d become. “Or does she not want to see me? I don’t remember what went wrong with us. I still have so many questions for her.”

Y/N could offer to answer all those questions; Kenny didn’t know him as well as she did, not anymore. But she could not do it without revealing their past. Would he think she was lying if she told him that he used to be in love with her, that he’d chosen to be with her instead of with Kenny and sworn to never let anything bad happen to her as long as he lived?

It didn’t work that way. You couldn’t make someone love you again just by telling them that they should. And she could not see him falling in love with her again, not when she was betrothed to Lance and her kingdom was at war. Her Harry would take her secrets to the grave. This Harry had tried to kill her.

“Fine,” she sighed. “You may meet Kenny. I’ll call for her and Stefan.”

“One more thing,” he blurted before she could leave. “Could you...call for only Kenny?” As she narrowed her eyes, he explained, “It’d be uncomfortable for all three of us if—”

“I see,” she cut him off, keeping a straight face. “Anything else?”

Y/N didn’t realize how vexed she’d sounded until she saw him blush. “No. Nothing else. Thank you, Your Majesty.”

She stared at him while he stared at his feet. A thousand things she wanted to say – but could not – piled up on her tongue. And when she left, Harry didn’t stop her.

.

.

.

Kenny seemed disconcerted to see him.

At first, Harry had thought she didn’t like how he looked with his hair so short (he’d requested for a mirror but the guard had ignored him, even after he’d said he was best friends with the Queen. Where was Y/N when he needed her?). But having known Kenny for that many years, he could easily guess that it wasn’t his haircut that she found unpleasant; it was the fact that he’d asked to see her alone.

Kenny looked quite different now. She’d always been beautiful, but now she looked more mature, which made sense because she was a wife and a mother of a baby girl. His last memory of her had been the day he’d left Theros and they’d made a vow that they’d get married when he returned. Now he was living in the past while the whole world had moved on and left him behind.

“You look good,” Kenny said with a nervous chuckle. “The Queen did a good job.”

Harry instinctively tugged at his short curls. “I thought she was lying when she said she’d done it before.” Kenny’s face contorted a bit. He whipped his head to both directions of the aisle outside his cell. “What? Is she here?”

“What do you think of the Queen?” Kenny asked, taking him by surprise.

He took a moment to think. It was always safe to be careful with what you said about kings and queens. “She’s all right,” he said. “Cold. But I think most Northerners are. It’s the ice in their blood.”

Kenny smiled a little and wrapped her shawl around herself as if being near him made her uncomfortable. “She’s getting married next month.”

“So I heard,” Harry snorted. “She and the King make a great match, although he could be quite a dick and she’s more on the softer side.” Then he waved his comment away. “Let’s not talk about them. It’s not like we’re invited to their wedding. Wait, are we invited to their wedding?”

Kenny didn’t answer his question. “What do you want to talk about then?”

She wanted him to get straight to the point and get this over with. It’d be a lie to say it didn’t hurt his feelings.

“Us, Kenny.” Harry frowned. “I want to talk about us.”

There was a pained expression on Kenny’s face as she opened and closed her mouth a couple of times and yet could not find the right words to begin. Harry decided not to wait. “I know that you’ve told me everything you knew, but I still have so many questions about us. Some things just don’t make sense...at least to me…”

Kenny fidgeted with her fingers. “Like what?”

“Like…” He pursed his lips, hugging the bars as he leaned forward against it. “If you only married Gideon because you thought I was dead, then why didn’t we get together after you—” He cut himself off just in time, not wanting to bring up the fact that she’d had to kill the bastard herself. He didn’t want to hurt Kenny more than that memory already had. “After we’d run away,” he corrected himself, “why did I end up here in the North and left you with Stefan?”

“I already told you, Crow. You wanted to serve the Queen because you two had bonded throughout the journey.”

“Why would I choose her over you? I would never choose anyone over you.”

She pressed her lips into a soft grin, probably to calm him yet it only made him more uneasy. “You fell out of love with me on the journey. We decided to stay friends.”

The light from the torch beside his cell flickered across her cheekbones. He tore his eyes from hers. His heart sank in as he smiled sadly to himself. “I cannot imagine a world where it’s so easy to fall out of love with you.”

Kenny stayed quiet for a moment. He expected her to just turn and leave him here for the memories to consume, but then she took a few steps until she was close enough for him to touch. He didn’t. He kept his fingers wrapped around the bars, reminding himself that she was Stefan’s wife and the mother of a child. Harry wasn’t going to mess up her perfect new life.

“I love Stefan,” she told him as if she could see right through him. “I don’t want to ruin your friendship with him. Stefan cares about you.”

“I know,” he sighed and raked his fingers through his hair, only to remember his long curls were gone. As he spoke, his voice was more brittle than he thought it’d be. “Does he make you happy?”

Kenny nodded and smiled. “Very.”

“Then...I’m happy for you,” he said despite how he felt. Then after another moment, “Did I fall in love with someone else?”

Kenny seemed taken aback by the question. She shook her head slowly. “I-I don’t know. We never talked about it. Why did you think so?” There was a short pause. “Did you...remember something?”

“No. That was the only way I could see myself falling out of love with you.”

He regretted saying it the second the words slipped out. He thought he’d upset her, but Kenny only beamed and reached for his hand around the bar. Her touch was gentle and warm, and in his head he imagined himself dropping down onto his knees and begging her to come back to him.

At first, he’d cried and blamed the Queen for everything he’d lost that he could not get back. It was because of her that he’d left Kenny with Stefan. It was because of her that he’d gone to battle and lost his memory and had to live in the past while everyone he loved had moved on.

But then he’d seen the Queen in his dream one night, and after he’d woken up, she’d shown up at his cell. He could not hate her or blame her for the things she could not control. She’d suffered, too, perhaps more than he had, internally. She’d tried to mask it, but her expressive eyes had given it away. Maybe this was nobody’s fault and he and Kenny just weren’t meant to be. He should be glad that she was free from Gideon and had ended up with Stefan.

“I have to return to my daughter,” Kenny said as she tucked a strand behind her ear; he’d been staring at it the whole time, wishing he could do it for her.

“What’s her name?”

“What?”

“Your daughter. What’s her name?”

“Eva.”

“Can I see her?” He chuckled. “When they release me, of course.”

“Sure. She’ll like you,” Kenny said.

“How long are you staying here?” he blurted before she could turn away, not ready for this conversation to end.

“For as long as the King and Queen need me,” Kenny replied.

Harry didn’t know what the King and Queen needed Kenny for. He assumed that it might be because Kenny was the only person who could make sure he wouldn’t try to hurt anyone again. After all, Y/N had told him two nights ago that she didn’t trust him anymore. He couldn’t blame her. If anything, he admired her for how she’d been dealing with this whole mess.

“Maybe you should ask the Queen to let you stay,” he said brightly, trying to sound cheerful. “Then Eva could become friends with the future heir to the throne.”

Kenny’s smile faded. Harry must have said something wrong. “The Queen cannot produce an heir.”

“Oh.” His smile also vanished. “Fuck...I feel bad for her.” No wonder Y/N was so cold. But how could she know she couldn’t produce an heir?

Harry knew it was none of his business, but for some reason, he was curious. Would it be rude if he asked her the next time he saw her?

“I’ll see you another time?” Kenny said.

Harry worked up a tight smile, trying not to acknowledge the waver in his voice. “Goodbye. Say hello to Stefan and Eva for me.”

Just like that, Kenny left, without taking a second look at him.

.

.

.

Y/N was woken by Jo screaming her name in the corridor before bursting into her bed chamber and slamming the door shut with her back.

The morning sun was a diffused orb of light through the window. A tiny pulsing spurred at Y/N’s temples from not getting enough sleep, and she climbed free from the bed, light-headed and empty.

She didn’t remember how she’d fallen asleep. She’d been so afraid of the nightmares that she couldn’t even shut her eyes. She’d wanted to go to Lance’s chamber — she felt safer with him — but she didn’t want to trouble him, especially after he’d made it clear that they should keep their distance until she was completely over Harry. She should respect his wishes. Yet, she missed him.

She didn’t know how to tell him she’d grown used to having him around and depending on him so much that she felt lost without him. How could she say that when she was still hopelessly in love with Harry? And how could she still be hopelessly in love with Harry if it was Lance who made her feel safe?

Her heart lurched as Lance emerged at the doorway and gave her a tender smile.

“There you are, Your Royal Majesty,” Jo said to Lance in a sarcastic tone as she settled on the edge of Y/N’s bed. “I’ve got great news.”

“Harry finally remembers?” Y/N said.

“You’re leaving court?” Lance said.

“No,” Jo told Y/N. To Lance, she said, “I will strangle you and I don’t care that's treason.”

Lance’s mouth fell open. “Your lady-in-waiting just threatened me!” he told Y/N, and she smiled and gave him a shrug to say, ‘You might as well get used to it.’

Jo clapped her hands to get their attention. “It’s Mary! I came to see her at dawn!”

“You what?!” Y/N and Lance cried at the same time.

“Yes,” Jo said calmly. “I came to see her and I made her talk.”

“But how?” Lance asked.

“Doesn’t matter,” Jo said. Y/N and Lance exchanged looks of concern though neither interrupted her. “She told me about the antidote.”

Lance snorted as he walked in and stood in front of them, hands behind his back. “She said there was no antidote.”

Jo shot him an annoyed look. “That’s because she wasn’t sure if it existed.”

“What does that mean?” Y/N asked, losing her patience.

Jo scooted over for Lance to sit down beside her. “It’s The Lake of Tears," she said.

“The what?”

Jo rolled her eyes as she turned to Lance. “I keep forgetting that you’re not from here. Here in the North, there’s folklore about a witch who was born with half a heart. She was gifted with healing powers and could cure all sickness, mental or physical, but she could not cure the pain caused by missing half of her heart. The witch spent all her life searching for the other half. When she got to the top of the highest mountain in the North, it was winter, she was freezing to death and alone, so she cried and cried and her tears formed a lake, drowning her in it. Folks call it The Lake of Tears and it’s said to be the cure for all sickness and can reverse all curses and spells.”

“But it cannot bring a dead person back to life,” Y/N added.

Lance’s face was screwed up as he eyed Jo with speculation. “You expect us to believe that there’s a lake on the North mountain — the coldest part of Isolde — that’s not frozen and has magical powers?”

“Are you calling our ancestors liars?”

“You said it was folklore, so yes.”

“How dare you—”

“Enough!” Y/N snapped and four eyes turned to her. She sucked in a breath. “I’m sorry, Jo. But I’m with Lance in this. Even Mary, who was a witch, doesn’t fully believe that the lake exists, so why should we?”

“Mary does believe in it,” Jo said quickly. “She told me she and her sister had tried to find the lake but they could not bear the cold and always gave up halfway. I think such powers may exist.”

“It’s dangerous to climb that mountain in winter,” Lance said, his voice rough, and Y/N thought he’d frightened Jo a bit. Y/N knew Lance. He was just worried for her.

“It is,” she said and their eyes locked. “But you shouldn’t unbelieve in something just because it frightens you.”

Lance wanted to rebut, yet he could not figure out what to say. His mouth opened then shut and he averted his eyes, leaning forward with elbows on his knees and hands clasped together. Jo seemed relieved that Lance had given in. She sat up straight. “Y/N?”

Y/N pursed her lips, thinking for another second. “Bring me breakfast,” she said. “I’ll eat and we’ll talk more about it.”

“Yes!”

“Y/N—”

“It might be our only hope, Lance,” she cut him off as Jo skipped toward the door and left as fast as she’d arrived.

The silence sank in as Y/N stood up, arms wrapped around herself. Lance stayed seated on her bed, watching her with a look of concern.

“I was right about Harry being alive,” she said. “So I might be right to believe in this, too.”

Lance exhaled sharply. “I just don’t want you to get your hopes up and get disappointed and eventually hurt. I know you love him,” there was something painful in the way he said it, “but what if...what if he cannot come back? What if the person who loved you was gone forever? What then?”

Those were the questions that had been haunting her since the moment she saw the look in Harry’s eyes when he looked at her — the look you’d give a stranger you never intended to see again. There was not a single sign of ‘do I know you?’ or 'have we met before?' Just ‘who are you?’.

“But when I talked to him,” she began, almost like she was thinking out loud, “I felt like the old Harry was there. He might still feel something for me but his feelings are buried deep inside. I think given time I can get him back.”

Lance said nothing at all. You knew Lance had given up on you when he didn’t try to win an argument.

“I’ll leave you to rest,” he said and rose to his feet.

Just as he was about to head for the door, Y/N jumped into his way and held out her hands. He flinched, just as surprised as she was.

“S-Stay,” she uttered. “Just...just stay here with me until Jo returns. Please? I don’t want to be alone with my own thoughts.”

He took some time to consider her. “Have those nightmares been keeping you up?” It didn’t sound like a question; he just knew.

She nodded. “The same one every night…” in which you and Harry were dying and I could only save one. I tried saving both and then had to watch both of you die…

Her gaze fell to the floor. She saw his feet shifting closer until his arms closed around her, pulling her into him. As he kissed the top of her head and gently stroked her hair, she set aside the guilt and allowed herself to enjoy the comfort of his embrace.

“I missed you, Y/N,” he whispered.

“So did I,” she admitted, bringing her hands to rest on his back. “Are we still friends?”

He chuckled. “Only behind closed doors. I can’t always look soft; it’s bad for my public image.”

Y/N snorted and buried her face into his chest. He still smelled like forest and winter, the things that used to frighten her. But at this moment, with him, she felt safe.

.

.

.

“What are we doing here?”

“Am I in trouble?”

“Does this have anything to do with getting my memory back? Who are you, by the way?”

Jo swept her eyes across each face and as she stopped at Harry, her face twisted into a scowl. “You’re more annoying than I remember,” she said. “Anyway, we’re here because I need your help.”

Kenny hugged the sleeping child to her chest, the corners of her mouth lowered as she considered their surroundings. “To clean...the library?”

Jo took a look around at the dusty shelves and let out a sigh. This place did need a lot of cleaning. It seemed as if nobody in this castle knew how to read.

“As you can see,” Kenny said, lifting her baby, “my hands are tied.”

“So are mine,” Harry said. “Literally.” Then lifted his tied hands.

Jo rolled her eyes. “Someone untie him.” The blonde standing beside Harry shifted and Jo forestalled her, “No, not you. This one bites.”

The young maid shied back instantly, and when her eyes met Harry’s and he gave her a lopsided grin, it heightened the colour in her cheeks. Jo cleared her throat and shot Harry a warning glare before she gestured for Stefan to untie Harry.

“We’re going to do some light reading today," she said. "Are there any of you who cannot read?”

Harry raised his hand.

“Why am I not surprised?” Jo grumbled.

“Harry, you can read!” Kenny cried.

Harry put his hand down and smirked. “Sorry, I was just testing my hand. Those ropes were way too tight for my blood circulation.”

Jo pinned him with a glare. “I liked you better when you were dead.”

“Wow...Did I steal your money or your grandma’s jewellery?” he chuckled. “Because if I did, I’m sorry.”

Jo almost said, ‘You stole the girl I love and you're going to hurt her,’ but instead she just ignored his remark and went on, “We’re going to do some research for the Queen. I’ll explain to you later but I need your help because there’s little time and a lot of books. Kenny, you don’t have to stay if you don’t want to.”

“No, I love reading.”

“Great. Oh, this is Natasha. She’s the new maid and she’ll also be joining us.”

“This is my first task ever, and I’m excit—”

“Thank you, Nat,” Jo cut her off, annoyed by how Harry and the new girl kept exchanging questionable glances. “Harry?”

“Yeah?”

“If you don’t want to read, you can return to your cell.”

“No. I love to read,” he said, but then his eyes quickly found Natasha again. Jo could tell the girl was enjoying the attention more than she should. Jo should be glad that Harry wasn’t going to get his memory back, but what she was feeling was the opposite; she didn’t want Y/N to get hurt.

“Will the King and Queen be joining us?” Harry asked.

“No. They’ve got more important things to do.”

“Because of the protests?”

“We’re not discussing politics here,” Jo said quickly. Harry’s sudden interest in the protests reminded her that he could not be trusted. She flicked her two fingers for the four of them to follow, and as they walked deeper into the candlelit library, Harry and Natasha were already laughing at the back of the line. Jo clenched her fists and her jaw, feeling thankful that Y/N wasn’t here.

.

.

.

Harry didn’t know what he was doing.

He flipped open the front cover of the third book and was met with the musty scent of burnt amber. They were supposed to read everything about the North mountain and folklore about a witch, her desperate search for the other half of her heart, and a lake made of tears that might or might not exist.

Jo had said that the Queen was looking for the lake, but she hadn’t mentioned what for. It was none of Harry's business anyway; he just wanted to finish this pile of books so he could get some sleep.

He’d been reading for two hours straight and his mind kept wandering to different places and he’d almost nodded off a couple of times. He rested his head on his knuckles and flipped another page, fighting the drowsiness that was taking over him. Suddenly, he felt something soft rubbing against his ankle and looked up to find the new maid grinning at him. He raised an eyebrow, his mouth curled when her foot nudged him under the table again.

Beside Natasha, Kenny was resting her head on Stefan’s shoulder and rocking their baby as Stefan read. Harry was trying his best not to wince. As if staying up so late to read stories weren’t boring enough, he had to do it with the girl he still loved and her husband, too.

He took a deep breath and decided to ignore the happy family as he picked up his book and moved to sit next to Natasha. Jo looked at him with an unpleasant expression which he also ignored. This whole night had been exhausting so he might as well have some fun on his own.

“Do you know why we’re doing this?” he asked Natasha in hushed tones, leaning in so close that their shoulders were touching. He could see her face turning red and suddenly thought of the Queen, not knowing why.

Natasha was quite the opposite of the Queen, who was undoubtedly beautiful but the sullen look on her face made her appear much older than nineteen. Natasha, on the other hand, looked young and playful and full of wonder, and she was pretty, too.

She told him she didn’t know more than he did, if not less, and that she could not wait for this to be over. “I thought my first task as the Queen’s maid would be more interesting,” she whispered to him. When her lips brushed his ear, he assumed it was on purpose. Not that he minded.

“Like what?” he asked, intentionally touching her arm with his knuckles.

“I thought I’d get to meet the Queen and braid her hair,” said Natasha. “I heard that she was the most beautiful girl in the land.”

Strange. Harry believed he’d heard this before. “She is,” he said. “I’ve met her.”

Natasha’s face brightened. “Really? What is she like?”

He tapped his chin with a finger, pouting as he glanced heavenward. “Very...queeny.”

His answer made Natasha giggle, and Jo immediately shushed them. Harry locked his lips with an invisible key and tossed it over his shoulder as Natasha tittered into her palm. Jo closed the book, hard, sending dust flying as she stood. She was just about to scold Harry when the door swung open and another maid rushed in. “Jo, the Queen was looking for you.”

“What for?”

The other maid shrugged. “She couldn’t find her dagger.”

A dagger? Harry flinched. Why does the Queen–

“Stay here. I’ll be right back,” Jo sighed as she put down the book. Before she left, she stabbed a finger at him. “Do not leave the room, Harry.” Then she and the other maid disappeared out of the door without an explanation.

Harry released a long sigh that got three sets of eyes turning to him. He waved for Kenny and Stefan to ignore him, and as the pair turned away, he whispered to Natasha, “Can you wake me up when she returns?”

He had no idea why he was so tired. Normally he wouldn’t fall asleep so easily at night, but right now his eyelids felt so heavy he couldn’t keep them open any longer.

“Sure,” Natasha said and playfully jutted out one shoulder. “You can rest your head here. I don’t mind.”

And he did. As soon as he closed his eyes, the smell of old books and her unfamiliar fragrance lulled him to sleep.

When Harry opened his eyes, he was standing in the castle corridor – the same one he’d been to in his dream the other night. There was no ceiling. Above him was a sky full of stars and the pale moonlight left long stripes of shadows on the floor. He tried a door on his right. It was locked. So was the next one. And the one next to it. All the doors in this hallway were locked. He called out, “Hello!” But all he heard was echoes of his own voice.

Nails dug into his palms, he wandered ahead. He kept on walking and walking and walking until the endless blackness began to clear like smoke. At the end of the corridor, he saw a crooked door. There was water leaking out from under it, drenching his bare feet. The water rose up to his knees, and the next thing he knew, he was swimming toward the door in desperation. He banged his fists against it and the door burst open. Water poured out, sending him rolling across the grass.

He pushed up onto his hands and knees to find that his clothes were dry again. And when he looked around, there was no door. He was standing on a hill. The air was cold. The sky was pink. There were still patches of snow here and there. He thought the scenes looked quite familiar, but he could not remember where he’d seen this before.

Suddenly, a hand grasped his wrist and he whipped around. The world rushed back in, and he saw Natasha staring at him with wide eyes.

He’d returned to the corridor, the real one. There were torches along the walls and Natasha’s skin felt hot against his cold skin.

“Where are you going?” Natasha asked and tugged at his arm. “And why are you so cold? Are you all right?”

“W-What happened?” he asked, still shivering.

“What happened? You suddenly stood up and left the room and I chased after you.” What? But the last thing he remembered was him falling asleep in the library. Did it mean he’d been sleepwalking? Since when did he sleepwalk? “You’re lucky all the guards had left their posts otherwise we’d be in big trouble.”

Harry blinked. “Why did they leave their posts?”

“A prisoner broke out of his cell,” Natasha said. “He snuck into the Queen’s chamber and took her dagger. It was the same man they’d captured from the attack. Have you heard of what happened at the border? The Queen nearly died. She was so brave. And the King–”

“Is she all right?” Harry cut her off. “Did the prisoner—”

“She’s all right,” Natasha replied, squinting her eyes, probably wondering why he was so concerned about the Queen. Harry didn’t know the reason, either. “When I crossed the few guards at the west wing, I heard them say that they’d caught the man then he killed himself in the throne room. It was insane! But it couldn’t have been worse than the massacre last year. Have you heard of it?”

Harry worked his jaw for a response, not knowing what to think let alone say. But Natasha didn’t seem to want his opinion.

“I’m sorry I frightened you,” she said, her voice softened at once. “Where are you going?”

“I-I thought I heard something.”

“Oh.”

As her gaze lingered on his lips and her fingers clutched his, Harry knew what she was going to do. And yet, he was shocked when she tiptoed and pressed her lips to his, kissing him softly and then with more passion. Why was a maid kissing him? Had everything he’d thought he’d known about the ladies in court been wrong? It didn’t matter anymore. Because when she pulled back, her moist lips parted and her cheeks flushed, staring into his eyes, all he wanted was for her to do it again. He’d been locked up and tortured by Calanthe for almost a year, and for the last couple of days, lonely, heartbroken and disoriented, not knowing who he was and whom to rely on. He didn't need more reasons to want someone.

“I’ve wanted to do that since the first moment I saw you,” Natasha confessed.

Harry stared at her, then muttered, “Fuck this,” and drew her in by her waist. They couldn’t hang him for kissing a girl, right?

Stumbling through the nearest unlocked door they could find, he kissed her against it before she pushed him back until he tumbled into a chair, and she got onto his lap, straddling him. Just as she reached for his belt, the door flew open and their heads shot to it. Harry’s blood ran cold when the light washed over him.

“You don’t have to check on me every two sec—” Y/N’s mouth froze midsentence. She stood rigid in the doorway, gaping at Harry and Natasha, who leapt out of the chair and away from each other. Natasha frantically fixed her hair while Harry adjusted his clothes.

“Please tell me you didn’t do it on my bed,” Lance groaned. It was only then that Harry realized they were standing in the King’s chamber. With all the guards missing, they couldn’t tell which were the rooms they were not allowed to enter.

“Who are you?” Y/N snarled at Natasha. Harry supposed she must be very angry right now. He didn’t know about the rules in court, but there must be one that forbade kissing in the King’s bed-chamber.

“My-my name is...Natasha...Your Majesty.” Natasha hung her head as she curtsied clumsily. “I-I’m your new maid.”

Lance eyed the girl up and down, his face as cold as ice. “Get your things. You're leaving in the morning.”

“Your Majesty, please!” Natasha cried.

Harry didn’t think when he stepped forward and blurted, “It was my idea. Please...don’t dismiss her from court. She admires the Queen and she really wants to serve her.”

For the first time since Harry had met Y/N, he finally got to see the resentment in her eyes as she looked at him. She hadn’t even looked at him like that after he’d tried to kill her. Her bottom lip quivered and her face was red. Lance seemed as cool as ever, but something shifted in his expression as if he was counting down the seconds until the Queen burst into flame. Harry thought she might, but then she said, quietly, “Get out. Both of you.”

Harry was stiff whilst Natasha wasted no time to bolt as she was afraid they’d have her head on a plate if she stayed for too long. That was when Harry saw it. The Queen’s torn sleeve and the bandage around her right arm, dark red blood spreading through it. The prisoner had probably given it to her. Something told Harry it wasn’t the physical pain that he saw in her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he said. The words felt useless, sucked dry by the cold air as soon as they left his lips.

He bowed to the King and Queen and was just about to leave when Y/N stopped him. “We’ve arranged a room for you,” she said. There was no more warmth in her gaze. “You can stay there tonight instead of in the dungeon. There’ll be guards outside your door. Don’t cause any trouble and they’ll keep you safe.” Her stone-cold expression wavered him, and he wasn’t sure if he should thank her or apologise again. “When everything’s gone back to normal here in the North,” she added, “you’ll be free to leave.”

With that, she waved him out of the door. He walked backwards until he was in the corridor and the King shut the door in his face. For a reason he could not explain, he felt a new sensation throbbing in his chest.

.

.

.

Harry lay awake in his new bed until early hours, and when he finally fell asleep, he dreamed again. He’d returned to the corridor and nearly drowned this time before he made it through the door and stood high and dry on the same hill.

There was no Natasha to wake him up, so he followed a pink butterfly, chasing it down the hill until he reached a cliff. The icy wind suddenly changed direction and sailed over him, cooling his face and limbs. He started walking toward the cliff. His footsteps felt so light as if the wind was carrying him. A girl was standing with her back to him, her long white dress billowing, her hair floating in the air.

“Peach?” the word slipped out of his lips.

The girl turned around. Another wind churned up, fierce and mean. Y/N was only wearing her nightgown. Was she not cold? He hurried forward, reaching out his hand to grab her and pull her back before she lost her balance on the edge. But no matter how fast he ran, he couldn’t reach her.

“Peach! Stay right there! Do not move! I'm coming!” he heard himself calling.

“Harry, I’m cold,” she said softly, and somehow he could hear her from that long a distance.

“I’m coming for you!” His voice was broken, growing more desperate, fading into the howling of the wind. The pink sky had grown dark and the trees were rattling. Heavy snow and dry leaves whirled all around him, making it hard for him to locate her. He shielded his eyes with one arm and tried to walk against the wind.

“Harry, don’t come near me.”

“Peach, let me help you. I’ll keep you safe.”

“No,” she whispered. “You’ll only kill me.”

“Peach!” Harry screamed and jumped forward as Y/N spread her arms like a butterfly and let gravity pull her under. When his body hit the ground, it wasn’t grass, soil, or snow; it was a stone floor. He wasn't hurt, yet he was freezing. He put his arms around himself, shuddering as he rose to his knees then to his feet.

Moonlight allowed him to observe his surroundings. He was in the King’s bed-chamber once again. He and the Queen. She stood by the window, the moon illuminating a side of her face. She was wearing a broken smile.

“Peach, you’re safe,” he heard himself say.

Y/N didn’t speak.

And that was when he saw the knife-hilt on the left side of her chest. Blood was pouring out of the wound, and still, she was smiling. His ears began to ring as if a memory wanted to push to the surface.

Then his eyes peeled open and he jolted upright, gasping for air, wild eyes searching for the Queen, but he was alone and the glow of the fire reassured him that he wasn’t dreaming anymore. There was no time for rational thoughts. He jumped out of bed, still shaking from the cold even though the windows were shut and the fire hadn’t died out. He shoved his feet into his boots and staggered toward the door.

.

.

.

“You were right,” Y/N said, hugging her knees to her chest and rubbing her eyes as the smoke from the fireplace made them water.

Lance was sitting beside her, one leg stretched, the other bent. He was sharpening his knife and had been doing it for so long that it might just be sharp enough to cut metal. She assumed he was just doing it to keep himself awake; he wouldn’t fall asleep before her.

“About what?” he asked, the sound of metal sliding against metal stopped, and silence ensued.

She released a breath she’d been holding. “Harry.” It was hard to say his name now; she’d just remember what she’d seen earlier right in this room. “I don’t think he’ll ever come back. I think...even if we’ve found the lake and stopped the potion from killing him, he might not remember me.”

Lance hmmed and then said, “So are we still looking for the lake?”

She tore her eyes from the flame to meet his. “I don’t want him to die. I still want him to be cured, even if it means he’ll leave me then.”

Lance rubbed his hands over his face and pushed back his messy black hair. “Fuck,” he muttered, making her giggle.

“I know what you’re thinking," she said, then faked his deep voice, “This girl is so stupid, risking her life for someone who wouldn’t do the same for her.”

But Lance didn’t laugh. “No,” he whispered. “I would have done the same for Daliah.”

Things he wanted to say, but couldn’t, stirred behind his eyes, and her heart clattered. “Lance–”

A few urgent knocks sounded on the door, cutting her off. Y/N braced herself for more bad news as she picked up the shawl resting on the foot of her bed, wrapped it around herself. Lance trailed after her, already lifting his blade.

She pulled the door open and her eyes went round. “Harry?”

Harry’s shoulders sagged in relief the second he saw her. “You’re alive,” he panted, which only made her more confused.

Lance rolled his eyes. He told her that he’d wait and went back inside so she and Harry could talk. One of the two guards finally released Harry’s arm and said, “We’re so sorry to disturb you, Your Majesty. But he threatened to cut his own wrist if we didn’t take him to see you.”

Y/N flinched. “Was he carrying a weapon?”

The guards exchanged looks.

"Did you even check him?"

They shook their heads hesitantly.

Harry scoffed, “You really should find new guards. Sorry, gentlemen.”

One of the guards growled. Y/N narrowed her eyes at Harry and his mouth snapped shut. Then she asked the guards to let her speak to him alone.

“Let me guess,” she sighed, folding her arms over her chest. “You saw a rat in your room and you want to switch to a larger room? This isn’t an inn.”

“No, no, no,” he said quickly, “I just…” and sighed, “I just wanted to check on you.”

“Why?”

He worked his jaw, yet words didn’t come out. Something was wrong and he didn’t trust her enough to tell her. Why was he here then? Had he not messed with her head enough?

“H-How’s your arm?” he asked. She squinted her eyes. “I saw...um...I saw that you were hurt...earlier. You were bleeding.”

“Oh.” She swallowed dryly. “I’m fine. Thank you. Is that all?”

“Yes.”

“Next time wait until morning to talk to me if it’s not something important.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” she said and waved for the guards, but Harry quickly stopped her, “Actually!”

Her hand froze in the air, and she signalled for the guards to give her another moment. “Yes?”

Harry scratched the back of his head. “I also...I also want to apologise for earlier. I don’t know the rules here but I suppose I’ve broken plenty.”

She took some time to look at him, his face a sharp contrast of light and dark shadows. He was heartbreakingly handsome and...familiar. The strain in the air between them softened at last, even if only just a little.

“Well, you’ve been through a lot and...I guess you need time to get used to life in court,” she said, her heart stuttering in her chest. “Don’t worry. I will keep my promise and send you back home as soon as it’s safe to travel again.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” he said and smiled when she didn’t. “Should I still call you Peach? Or is it too weird now?”

Y/N felt a sinking weight in her chest and she didn’t ignore it this time. How many times had he fooled her into believing he still cared about her? How many times had he proven that she’d been wrong? She’d been chasing shadows within these walls. It was time to accept that they were nothing but illusions of the man he used to be, the man she’d lost.

“You should call me Your Majesty,” she said. “You’re right. It feels weird considering the situation we’re in.”

“Oh.” His gaze slipped from her and fell to the floor. Silence sank over them. The corridor felt too quiet.

“Goodnight,” she said.

“Goodnight,” he said. “Your Majesty.”

She waved for the guards and stepped back into her chamber. His shadow wavered underneath her door for another moment, and then vanished.

#harry styles #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #harry styles writing #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry styles series #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #princess!y/n #queen!y/n #tctm series

[halothenthehorns]

All in the Family

Chapter 47: The Firebolt

Sounds of jubilation rang in Alice's ears before the rest of her senses had even caught up with her. The place smelt strongly of wood polish and she flinched in surprise when something bright red looked like it was fixing to sock her in the face. She stumbled back in surprise and managed to tip over a whole casket of something that went spinning across the floor in every direction.

"Alice?" Frank called in concern as she muscled her way around what she finally recognized as Quaffles, the projectile charmed to be spinning in place showing off its new apparent aerodynamics on display.

"Over here," she called from the corner and following the loud noise around the mess of balls she made to find herself in the store proper, Quality Quidditch Supplies.

Frank sprinted over to her in relief, still shaking wood shavings out of his hair. "Sorry love, I landed in a pile of Make-Your-Brooms, I think some little kid was in the process of carving something into the handle when I interrupted." He caught her hand as he continued to look about. "Do you know where we are? I think that's Diagon Alley past that window, but-"

"You've never been in Quality Quidditch Supplies?" Alice asked in surprise.

"Me mum never brought me in here," he shrugged. "Thought the sport was a bloody waist."

"It's no wonder you wouldn't help me practice for the Beater tryouts next year," she laughed in surprise as his chagrin grew. "Don't worry love, I'll help you learn how to ride a broom over the summer, if you want," she quickly finished.

"I, ah, could give it a try," he uneasily agreed, clearly putting more enthusiasm into his voice than he meant. "Can't be worse than Neville's first try, eh?"

The two exchanged a look of pure love and excitement, their future spanning before them in that moment as Alice's mind corrected the instance, of teaching her son all about a sport she'd loved for ages.

Lily came over to them then with a deeply annoyed expression seemingly frozen in place. "Well, no use in expecting any of them to help us find the book soon. They seem to have reconsolidated their friendship by acting like even bigger loons than usual, if you can believe it."

Alice saw a beach-ball sized Snitch now being tossed into the air at the front of the store and believed her without question. She tugged her boyfriends hand and began waving Lily off to the side, "there's a collection of Quidditch manuals and how-to's on the far wall over there, we should start there."

They found Regulus there flipping enthusiastically threw Brooms to Buy. He began jabbering without even looking up, "these designs are fantastic! I can't believe how sleek the models become in a few short years! Do you think they worked out the design flaw of-"

He did look up then and flushed in surprise to see who it was.

Alice smiled politely and encouraged him to finish, "you mean the tailwind on the Cleensweep models? I sure hope so. I've been angling to save up for a new Silver Arrow because of it."

Regulus blinked several times in confusion, before a smile slowly lit his face. "You follow Quidditch?"

"It's a thing me and my mum love," she agreed. "I was going to try out for the house-team next year."

"We might be playing against each other then," he stated, and to her surprise she saw some excitement beginning to light his usual dower expression.

"You already on then?" Frank asked, eyeing the third year, who seemed almost miniscule to them sometimes being two years older.

"Yep, though I've only been a reserve player so far. The usual Seeker has actually been in the Hospital Wing all week though, so if he didn't make it out by classes today, I got to play in the match next week!" He exclaimed in pure child-like delight, then his face clouded over as he muttered in confusion what day of the week it was supposed to be exactly.

"I hope things work out for you then," Alice told him sincerely as Lily had long since lost interest in the conversation and perused every spine along here, but between the cover of Witch Weekly being dominated by some person with a surly face and heavy dark eyebrows, and a copy of Quidditch through the ages, not finding the book they needed.

Regulus nodded, blinked again in surprise as if just realizing who he'd been talking to, and managed the most friendly smile any of them had seen as he waved them off and began flipping through the magazine again.

"He's a weird kid," Frank muttered as they went traveling aimlessly down the isles of the store now with no clue where to look next, and not in any big hurry to be done and put in a more unpleasant place to use magic to find it. "Sometimes he's so hostile I feel like I can't take my eyes off him, then other's, he's..." he struggled to put into words what they'd just seen.

"A normal kid," she offered politely. "I'm still trying to figure that out as well. Seems he really only gets defensive when his big brother starts pushing his buttons and the pureblood issues come up. Makes you wonder what his home life's like," she finished with a sigh, eyes on Lily as she watched a Bludger go sailing over their head without interest. They heard it crash somewhere in the back of the store, and they all steered clear and went to the front instead.

The Marauders were beside themselves with pure energy, clearly all that candy they'd inhaled had taken hold. Black and Pettigrew were responsible for the majority of the objects being thrown around, unable to handle one for any length of time before daring the other to throw it, and the other complying. Lupin was sitting on the counter with an indulgent smile in place, occasionally waving his wand to fix something right only so his friends could go at it again. Potter was conspicuously missing.

"You lot have no restraint!" Evans snapped as a pile of Puddlemere United towels crashed into the floor from their wild antics. "Would you have some bloody respect for one place?"

"Live a little Evans!" Pettigrew called back, before he burst into a mad fit of laughter that almost sounded like a shriek. He jumped onto the space beside his friend and began hanging from the rafters in the ceiling, scrambling madly to lift the rest of himself up there.

Alice felt a bit of pity for him, it couldn't be easy to learn of this kind of future and the lad seemed to be taking his words to heart and enjoying himself to the fullest now. His friends were clearly indulging this. She turned away, and finally spotted the book. Potter was unintentionally drooling on it and didn't even seem to realize it, as it was propped on the display next to the Firebolt.

She darted over there as well, eyeing the beautiful, sleek design with relish. It looked fast just simply sitting there in the sun, she couldn't imagine the feel of one beneath her. She was surprised Potter wasn't crashing around the store on it yet.

As if reading her mind, he groaned in pain, "it's a display model only, not the bloody real thing."

"That's almost fair," she sighed with longing. "I can't imagine any security charms in the world would stop someone from trying to steal it." Her mind was already putting together Potter discovering this by trying to take one along with him now.

He looked to her in surprise, it looked almost painful for him to drag his eyes away, but clearly hearing her tone. "You like Quidditch?"

"Why does everyone seem so surprised by this?" She pouted.

"You've barely said a thing when Harry's games were going on," he shrugged.

"I like to play it, don't have much enjoyment for listening to it," she said back, while finally and reluctantly grabbing the book.

"Enjoy the chapter then, seems we'll be getting skipped forward to one of Harry's matches," Potter gave her a genial wave and went back to panting over the broom.

Alice wasn't so sure, the timeline didn't seem right for it at all as she'd thought Harry was just starting his winter break, but opened the book curiously to read the chapter title, which gave things a little more context.

Pettigrew fell from the ceiling in surprise, and didn't even seem to notice. "Harry's going to get a Firebolt!"

Alice gazed fondly at the picture, which didn't at all do justice to the lovely bit of wood in the window.

"I guess losing his Nimbus model changed his mind about getting a new broom like that," Frank laughed at the kids indulgence. "Poor lad needs a pick me up I'm sure," he finished more quietly, eyes still on Black who looked like he was trying to do a cart wheel for reasons beyond both of them.

The excitement of this news made everything feel like there was a new energy around it, even the dampening opening reminding them all how Harry was taking this news. It was clear the Marauders were trying very hard not to even listen, the three even abandoning the front counter to join their friend at the window and talking painfully loudly about anything they could think of.

Alice couldn't do the same, and not just because she was the one telling of poor Harry's suffering turned to hatred towards Black. She watched the teen flinch and edge even closer to his best friend, throwing an arm around Lupin like he was trying to hold himself upright at his soon to be godsons feelings. She'd been wondering about her own future ever since she'd learned about Neville, worried why her son never mentioned his parents and was raised by Frank's mother. If her son hated his parents even a fraction of what Harry was feeling for someone he should have been so close with, she didn't know how she'd be able to live with that. She honestly wished she had a better answer for him rather than more accusations.

Lily listened as Harry's friends tried to cheer him up, and Harry wouldn't let them as he reminded Malfoy may have been aware of this news. She vividly remembered the brats words to Harry about the elder Black, Sirius, and how she'd wondered if somehow he and Lupin were in on that horrible murder together. Now with this new information of learning their friend was involved, she wasn't so sure, but then how had the child of a Death Eater been so informed of the event? Was it really possible they'd both turn on their friend in a few years? What of Potter? The longer she thought of this the less sense it made.

Frank hoped that Harry going to visit Hagrid would help him. He needed someone to vent at, an adult in his life who would be a solid presence in this troubled time. He'd never known his dad, but thought he'd be a lot like Hagrid if he hadn't been killed by Death Eaters.

James turned to actually watch Alice with concern and surprise of what was wrong with Hagrid, then they all muttered, "I'd forgotten about that hippogriff."

"I say we start a Quidditch team for him!" Peter said at once, breaking off and making a run for the isles. "The Hogwarts Hippogriffs!"

"I don't think they'll give a school an international team," James snorted as he followed after him.

"If they did, we'd have to form one giant team, and the body count would never end," Remus snickered as he trailed after them.

Sirius hesitated to follow, eyes still lingering on the book. His friends refused to treat him any differently no matter what came to light, but he'd noticed these three with something new on their faces from that last chapter. It had not passed his notice Regulus had been about to draw his wand on someone either, for him. He felt like he owed all of them, something. A peace offering, a thanks, an apology, he wasn't sure, but some way to show he really wasn't this mad man of the future. He'd never really cared what anyone thought of him in school before, but this was different, he didn't want anyone to think he was capable of this! Now it was clear they were reconsidering and even agreeing with the Marauders something was going on about this story, now how to reinforce this when Harry's opinion of him was lower than ever?

Harry helping his friend to save the hippogriff was too sweet, almost sickly so, Regulus wanted to laugh. Hagrid was certainly one strange person, crying over a beast. He wondered idly, as he found a nice chair to sit in and continue flipping through his magazine, how Hagrid had survived Azkaban for as long as he'd been there. Regulus froze when he even realized Hagrid and Sirius would have been in there at the same time. He shivered and was happy for the change of topic to Harry getting Christmas gifts, especially that new broom he'd already snuck a peek at.

The boys ideas of who had sent it to him all had merit, he could even hear echoes throughout the store of varying people's ideas, most of them thinking it was McGonagall or Dumbledore again. Regulus wondered if they were really missing a rather obvious person, Sirius. He was certain he cared enough about Harry to use money he claimed no right to.

There was some scattered sympathy again for Scabbers once again being chased by that cat, and quite a few mutters when Hermione only made her position worse by worrying over who sent the broom instead of just enjoying the gift! He rolled his eyes even harder when he in fact heard the other Muggleborn present voicing this same worry Harry should not just be accepting this gift without question. He'd probably agree, if he thought there was anyone out to hurt Harry that wasn't around the last two years. He'd finally had to admit to himself there was no doubt Sirius was innocent of these crimes, and there was just no reason he'd be 'going after,' Harry.

Once again nobody seemed to give much of a passing notice to Lupin being absent for his health. It was a common enough thing for him in school, seemed he never grew out of that.

Remus flushed at this being pointed out anyways, then paused in confusion as the potion Snape was apparently making for him was again mentioned with no real understanding of it all. There was just no chance it was a coincidence. Snape knew he was a werewolf, and was giving him something for it?

James and Peter froze in front of him with weary expressions as well, but dared not speak of this in such a compact store where anyone could hear. Instead they gladly took the distraction of McGonagall coming to confiscate Harry's broom, and very loudly spoke of how infuriated they were with Hermione going behind Harry's back like that.

"She was looking out for her friend!" Evans shot back from five isles over. "I'd hardly think you would complain about that Potter, considering that's what you've been doing for your friend since the beginning!"

"It's different!" James thundered back, but with that light back in his eyes of finally getting the chance to spare with her again openly. "I'm defending Sirius from false accusations, not tattling to a teacher so they can nick his stuff!"

There was no response, and James preened with satisfaction, seeming to think he'd finally gotten through to her. He even went jogging back over to them, Peter hurrying to keep up.

Remus was all for standing around and watching the show of Prongs and Evans again, but got distracted. "Oi, Padfoot, I found you a Whimborn Wasp Jersey with Bagman's numbers!"

"Moony, you're the best mate ever!" He'd spoken without thinking, all but apparating to the isle he was in, but froze when he reached for it and their hands brushed together.

There was a pause as the two just stood there for a moment gaping at each other.

It's stupid to flush like some school girl, Sirius quickly corrected himself, he knew what you meant! Their fingers were still overlapped over the bright yellow stripes.

The two hadn't found an alone moment in quite some time now, and the more this kept happening the more charged the air became between them. They'd agreed to hold off the awkward conversation of whatever this was and include James and Peter in it, but that had been when they'd thought they were just traveling through Harry's first year. Now all of this horrible new information kept coming up between them all, the two honestly just wanted an escape.

Remus cleared his throat and finally stepped back, effectively putting the conversation off again like it had never been turned back on. "Well, put it on before Smith finishes!"

Neither gave a single care to the exclaims of surprise that Sirius could have sent Harry that broom, it felt obvious to them, and it's not as if this news would change anyone's opinion of him in either way.

Sirius shucked his bag, slipped out of his school robes and threw them off without care, grinning as he exposed his top half and Remus cleared his throat again. It wasn't anything the other hadn't seen over the past five years of sharing a room in the morning, he told himself, but he still found himself preening a bit and hesitating longer than he should have before pulling it on.

Moony caught his eyes and smiled again, whispering, "perfect fit," as they were teleported away.

#Harry Potter #fanfiction #Wolfstar #Marauders #Jilly #Quality Quidditch supplies #PoA #James Potter #Remus Lupin #Sirius Black #Peter Pettigrew #Regulus Black #Lily Evans #Alice Smith #Frank Longbottom

[simsadventures]

C and D for a Cold Date

Alpha Steve x Omega Reader

Summary: It’s freezing outside, but Steve is adamant on taking you on a date.

Warnings: fluff, a/b/o dynamics

Word Count: 948

A/N: New instalment is here and I decided to combine two letters. If there is any particular character you’d wish to see in this series, let me know, even if I’ve already done him. Let me know if you enjoy this series, guys. Love you all! xx

Merry A/B/O Masterlist __ Masterlist

You were snuggled under a huge plush blanket, nestled in an armchair with hot cocoa in one hand and The Sunlight Pilgrims by Jenni Fagan in the other. The book fitted perfectly the cold weather raging outside. From the corner of your eye, you could see the snow falling down slowly, creating a big sparkly blanket on the grass, covering everything it touched.

You loved the winter, mainly because you could stay snuggled in your room, and nobody could tell you anything. You loved these silent moments when it was just you and a good book. You knew it could have been better, especially if your Alpha was there, cuddling with you and reading something on his own. But Steve had been absent most of the day, telling you that there was something extremely important that he needed to take care of.

It was nearing 9 PM, and the temperature in the room decreased a little. You were one of those people liking your room a little colder, just to use more blankets and fuzzy socks, and the warmth of you Alpha, if need be. But this temperature was cold enough even for you.

“FRIDAY. Turn up the heating a little, please.” You murmured, knowing that she’d hear you, and soon enough, you could feel the air changing, telling you that the heating has been turned on.

You got up and went to the stove, making yourself your favourite Christmas tea, with cinnamon. Just the smell of it made a smile appear on your face. You loved this time of a year, and you couldn’t wait for the actual Christmas to come.

You wanted to sit back down and delve into your favourite activities when the door to your apartment opened. You didn’t even have to look up knowing that it’s your Alpha entering your shared space. But you were curious as to what kept him away from you the whole day, and so you brought your eyes up, eyeing him up and down.

You still couldn’t believe how you landed someone like him. He was wearing a plaid shirt and old jeans, but he still was the most handsome man you’ve ever landed your eyes on. He hadn’t shaved for a while, making his face all hairy and scratchy, but you secretly loved it. The team was always taunting him about it, but he knew how much you enjoyed when he rubbed his cheeks against yours, and how it sent shivers down your spine. So he decided that for the sake of Christmas, and making his Omega happy, he’d let it be.

“Like what you see, Omega?” Steve rumbled from the door and your cheeks heated up a little. There were still times when you felt like at the beginning of your relationship. All girly, giggly and all of that, even if this would be your third Christmas spend as a mated couple.

“Very much, Alpha. I have to enjoy the sight when you deprived me of it the whole day.” There was a slight accusation in your tone, but nothing serious. Steve knew that you trusted him fully and that you could never be mad at him for long.

He took a few steps towards you and pulled you into his firm chest. This was your safe place. In your tiny apartment, securely in Steve’s arms.

“‘M so sorry, Omega. But I promise my absence was worth it. Come, I need to show you something.”

You cocked an eyebrow but didn’t protest. “Should I put something on? Because I’m not planning on freezing if you want to take me out.”

He chuckled and kissed the top of your head. He couldn’t help it and let his nose trail a route to your ear and lower even to your neck. You kissed your mark and took a long inhale, basking in your scent, smelling like a mixture of cinnamon, vanilla, and freshly cut grass. If he could stay like this forever, his nose buried in your neck, he would be a happy man. But he had a surprise for you and you two could cuddle there as well.

“Don’t worry, my love. You can take your blanket if you want, but nothing else is needed.”

He didn’t even wait for you to raise any questions, picked you up bridal style and marched with you across the compound. At that very moment, you didn’t even care where he was going. All that mattered to you was that you were with your Alpha, you were warm as one could be and totally and utterly happy.

When you reached the destination, you knew where you were, and it made you smile. Steve brought you to the compound’s cinema. You didn’t go there often, and definitely not alone. When the two of you were feeling like watching a movie, you did so in your apartment.

But when Steve opened the door to the room, your heart stopped.

There were lit candles everywhere. In the middle of the room, a few seats were put down so that they created what seemed like a huge bed, with multiple blankets thrown over it, making it look cosier. There was even a tray with thermo flasks, with what you assumed was a tea, and a bottle of wine. It was perfect.

“I wanted to take my girl on a date, but the outside world is not made for that today. So I thought we could go to our own personal cinema, just the two of us, and enjoy something a little different. What do you say?”

He could see you were beaming, so you didn’t really have to say anything. You stood on your tiptoes and kissed him, showing rather than telling him what you thought. Steve snaked his arms around your waist, pulling you closer still.

“I think it’s perfect, Steve. Thank you, Alpha.”

“Anything for my best girl, Y/N.”

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#a/b/o #a/b/o dynamics #a/b/o masterlist #christmas a/b/o masterlist #alpha beta omega #alpha steve #alpha steve rogers #alpha steve omega reader #omega!reader #omegaverse #steve rogers #steve x reader #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers imagine #fluffy steve rogers #captain america #captain america x female reader #christmas alphabet #christmas list #christmas imagines #christmas time #christmas masterlist #avengers #avengers a/b/o #avengers fanfiction #marvel #mcu #mcu fanfiction

[duck-writer]

Borrowed Time’s Up Ch.3

You can read Ch.1 Here and Ch.2 Here  

Story Summary: 

Einherjar : (pronounced "in-HAIR-e-yar"; singular einherji, pronounced "in-HAIR-yee") are great heroes who have died with bravery on Earth; soldiers in Odin's eternal army; they train in Valhalla for Ragnarök, when the bravest of them will join Odin against Loki and the giants in the battle at the end of the world.

While Huey's busy with a Junior Woodchuck's thing and Louie paired off with Webby for an Urban scheme adventure, Dewey and Scrooge head towards the Underworld for an adventure of their own. They drag Donald along and he did his best to stay on the plane...because he knew that if he stepped foot inside, it was a one way trip.

But he's Donald Duck, and he can't ignore the cry of help from his kid.

~~~~

“You should still be in bed,” Mrs. Beakley told Webby. 

The young duckling jumped a bit, one of the few moments of rarity when she was so lost in thought, she wasn’t aware of all her surroundings. She immediately felt bad for letting down her training. “Sorry, granny...” 

Mrs. Beakley looked at her granddaughter up and down and noticed the cup of tea in her hand. She wouldn’t blame Webby for being out of usual habits. It was a tough and strange time at McDuck Manor. So she offered her a gentle smile. “I’ll let it slide this time. But I will remind you that a proper night’s sleep is crucial for your growth, Webby.”

Webby tried to smile back but it fell almost instantly. Looking at Scrooge’s study door before her gaze went back to her grandmother, she asked, “Does he sleep?”

Mrs. Beakley took her time answering. As much as she wanted to shield her granddaughter of things, she’d promise to be more honest about serious matters. At the moment, she was witnessing a lot of realistic hardships happening to her friends and basically family. “Mostly when exhaustion eventually takes hold. It’s not healthy. But...given the situation, we can be forgiving.” 

“We’re all trying to help. There’s a lot of books on the matter but without knowing specifics, it’s hard to help Uncle Donald.” Webby told her. 

“I know. And I also know you children are doing a lot more than any mere child can.”

Webby frowned in the way her grandmother said that. The words were good, but the tone seemed to imply more.” Granny?”

Mrs. Beakley sighed and knelt to meet her granddaughter’s eyes, “The problem with almost always winning...is when you don’t.”

“I don’t understand...” Webby frowned a bit more. 

“I know you will all do your best to fix this. Or to get him back. You’ve seen Scrooge and Donald and myself...and you kids have even done a lot of amazing things...”

“But?”

 “But there are moments when...” Looking into Webby’s sweet innocent face made it very hard to tell her this important life lesson. She nearly caved and came up with something else, but she steeled herself and forced the words out. “There are moments, dear Webbigail, when life is just...not fair. Even to heroes.” 

Webby didn’t like that lesson, but she couldn’t deny that it might be an important one to understand. Looking from the cup of tea she was holding back to Scrooge’s door, she said, “Am I doing enough to help them, Granny?”

Beakley smiled at her granddaughter, “Yes. In these times it can be so easy to fall apart. And there’s nothing wrong in it. They will need strength, for whatever comes, and you shall give them plenty. Why don’t I give this to Scrooge and you go set things out for breakfast. It’s the most important meal, and we must be stricter with everyone to make sure they remember.” 

Webby saluted with new resolve, “Yes, Granny!”

~~~~~~~~

Huey was found by Webby and told that breakfast would be soon. As much his appetite hasn’t been what it used to be, he knew the importance of the first meal. He told Webby he was going to go look for his brothers to get them to come down for breakfast. 

Since learning about Uncle Donald, he hadn’t seen his brothers as much as he used to. It’s been a whirlwind of emotions and time feels weird for him. Like it’s being dragged through molasses and yet it goes from morning to night in a blink. 

He misses his uncle a lot. As sad as he got from time to time growing up and thinking his mother had passed away...he never met her. As they got older they didn’t ask about her as much, but whenever they did their Uncle Donald answered whatever questions they had about her. (Well, without specifics. Technicalities could be a stinger, but they held their merit)

Right now it feels like no one was speaking about their uncle. As if he were a taboo subject no one wanted jinxing them. 

Looking in their room, he found Dewey passed out on the floor surrounded by books and notebooks. 

Huey couldn’t help but smile sadly at him. Though part of him was jealous that Dewey had been there, had gotten a goodbye and a hug as well...he wouldn’t stay upset. Dewey was hurting as much as the rest of them. 

Nudging his brother awake, he told him it was time to eat. “Dewey...come on, bro. Breakfast.” 

“Unca Donal’?” Dewey muttered as he bolted up and tried to roused properly from sleep. When he noticed it wasn’t his uncle who woke him, but his brother, he looked down at his feet. “Oh....um, I’ll catch up.” 

“Hey, no. Breakfast will be ready soon and we need fuel for the day. Come on, I’ll wait.” Huey told him. 

“You don’t have to...” 

“But I want to.” 

Dewey looked up at the other, his eyes shining with unshed tears and full of sadness, “You’re just being nice to me...”

“Well, yeah. I’m your brother. Others are hurting too. But you and me...and Louie too, we were raised by Uncle Donald. Everyone else had families and lives outside of him but to us, he was our past life before all of this. No one gets my pain better than my brothers. I need you, so...I think you need me too.”

Dewey’s bill trembled before he hugged his brother tightly, “I miss him so much...”

“Me too.”

“Is Louie mad at me?” 

Huey frowned deeply at that but he could guess why Dewey thought that. “No. He’s mad at the situation.”

“Feels like he’s mad at me.” Dewey muttered as he hugged Huey tighter. Huey returned the embrace and just held Dewey for a moment. Dewey quietly said, “There’s a lot of information, but little seems to head towards an answer. What if there isn’t one? What if we’ve lost him for good?”

“Hey, come on now. We’re Ducks! And we got Scrooge and everyone else on our side. We...we’ll get him back.” Huey told Dewey with as much conviction as he could muster. Even if he had moments of doubt since Dewey wasn’t wrong. They hit more dead ends than he’d like, but they couldn’t back down! They had to get him back!

~~~~~~~~~~

Scrooge was exhausted. 

He hasn’t been this tired in such a long time. 

Not since he was forced to accept the horrible thought that his darling Della had been lost.

It was so strange to think. With Della, there had been no body to bury. There hadn’t been a service either. He refused to believe she was dead...even after he had to stop looking for her. 

With Donald...there had been a body. 

And a grave. 

Donald had dug it himself, buried his own body, and carried on as an Einherjar. 

Scrooge wondered if Donald had some sort of service for himself. Probably not. All signs seemed to point that the only reason he cared for himself for a long time had been for the boys. 

The boys...

Scrooge should really check on them to make sure they were okay. To give them hope and courage, and make them believe he’ll fix this. 

Except...he was low on hope. And maybe low on courage as well since he fears if he makes promises they’ll sound empty. 

A knock at the door brought him out of his thoughts. It was probably Beakley bringing him some food or trying to get him to rest. He blinked away any possible bit of sleep that he could before calling out, “Come in.” 

It wasn’t Beakley, but Louie. 

“Lad...” Scrooge was immediately out of his chair and heading towards the young duckling. He inspected the youngest triplet and took in as much as he could. Louie seemed alright physically, but the bloodshot eyes and bags under them probably rivaled his own. “Stupid question but...how are you?”

A few tears escaped Louie’s eyes and he roughly wiped them away. “I went to Storkules for help...”

That caught Scrooge’s interest. He was well aware that everyone was doing what they could to help. This was an interesting angle, but Scrooge already knew it would lead to another dead end, horrible pun unintended. 

“He wouldn’t let me go. He’s still not back and I don’t know if I should take that as good news or if Storkules decided to just stay in the Underworld with Uncle Donald.” 

Scrooge sighed and guided Louie to take a seat. “The land of the dead is...complex. There are...many. Storkules most likely went to the one we went to, but there’s high chance Donald won’t be there.” 

Louie’s eyes widened, “What do you mean? Did you get him out? I mean, what other reason would Uncle Donald not be in the Underworld anymore?” 

“Storkules is Greek. And yes, the Underworld we lost Donald to was the Greek version of the Underworld. Hades is far more reasonable than Zeus, more so in the winter months...but Donald most likely didn’t stay long in his domain, lad.”

“I...I don’t understand.” 

“I haven’t figured out what happened yet, but your Uncle Donald became an Einherjar. That is someone who dies bravely. Heroically! But they are of Norse origin. Though there might have been an attempt of negotiation, I don’t think asking Storkules will...well, he’ll do his best and who knows what he’ll learn. But...I think this will be a bit more difficult, Louie.” Scrooge told him gently. 

Louie’s bill quivered as he tried, and failed, to not cry. “Not having mom around was hard. But Uncle Donald went far and beyond for us...more than we knew apparently. I...I can’t...I don’t want to live a life without him! He’s supposed to be here! He’s supposed to teach us how to drive and how to shave! He’s supposed to help Huey with those insane college applications he’ll start filling out a year earlier than Dewey and me! He’s supposed to cheer Dewey on whenever he made it to whatever audition he gets to try out for! He’s supposed to be there for me! Forever!” 

Scrooge pulls Louie into a protective embrace and lets him cry. He joins him because Louie’s points made him realize just how much he’s missed out and how much more he’ll miss now. 

~~~~

“Hi.”

Della jumped up and held the picture of Donald and the boys protectively against her chest. When she saw it was just Launchpad, she slumped back into her seat. “Not the best time to be sneaking up on people.”

“I knocked,” Launchpad stated. 

Della noticed that his usual upbeat aura that was always with him was gone. Blinking and shifting her focus back to the moment she nodded, “Right. Sorry. Guess...guess I was far off...”

“It’s cool. I get it.” Launchpad said gently. He pulled out a chocolate bar and offered it to her. “Donald would always have snacks. Sometimes healthier, but for the sad times it was always chocolate.”

She blinked away the tears and accepted the offering. “Thanks...” 

“Do you mind the company? I get you may want to be alone, but...no one should be alone. I can be quiet. If you don’t wanna talk, I mean,” Launchpad offered. 

The offer was so sweet, and she just felt like bursting out crying. But she was Della Duck! So she wanted to appear stronger than she was at the moment. Like many times on the moon when an attempt to get home failed or backfired. She had tried so hard though, and now that she was home...a lot of the fight and stubbornness she felt on the moon was gone. So her laugh quickly became a sob. 

Launchpad hesitated a bit but then dared to hug her. When she latched on to him and cried harder, he rubbed her back and tried to offer as much comfort as possible. 

“I miss him too.” 

#Borrowed Time's Up #Fanfic #Ducktales 2017 #Scrooge McDuck #Mrs. Beakley #Webbigail Vanderquack #Huey Duck #Dewey Duck #Louie Duck #Launchpad McQuack

[ice-cream-nekogirl]

now i’m a believer (Shinsou Hitoshi X Reader)

THIS IS PURE. UNABASHED FLUFF~. In an icky kinda way XD

But hey,they say that true love is being able to be gross in front of your partner and having your partner be gross in front of you too.

Summary: To this day, neither your nor Shinsou still can’t quite believe that you found each other and can actually be yourselves around. It helps that you’re both gross. 

I thought love was only true in fairy tales Meant for someone else but not for me Love was out to get me That's the way it seemed Disappointment haunted all of my dreams

- I’m a Believer ‘Smash Mouth’

(https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Dt8NtfFSoIo)

You didn’t want to get out of bed, no way it was still the Winter Break dammit you were going to sleep in and probably for the rest of the day. That would be okay right? Just veg out and do nothing? There was surprisingly more work in doing nothing that most people thought.

Sighing softly, you kept your eyes closed and further snuggled into your pillow, but then a soft snore interrupted you from going back to sleep once you remembered it all. That’s right, you invited your boyfriend to sleep with you in your bed behind Iida’s back last night.

Nothing would stop you from letting your beloved Shinsou in your room as you opened your eyes to admire him as he still had his eyes closed and slept peacefully. Wow, he was actually asleep, you knew that bit of chamomile would actually help the poor thing with his insomnia. Not that you had a good sleep schedule either, hell no you stood up WAY too late and were possibly insomniac too but still, you worried more for him than yourself.

And you were glad that he was sleeping because he looked actually even more beautiful asleep, well, right now at least. There were times where he was NOT cute when he slept, some nights he’d snore a little louder than usual, cling to you like you were a lifeline, and then sometimes he’d do more than snore in his sleep…

But you put up with all of that, because you knew you weren’t the cutest when you slept either. And Shinsou was a very attractive boy, not everyone saw it but you did. He had a very handsome face, such soft, disheveled hair and skin so smooth you never wanted to stop touching it. You found your hand carefully and gently petting his soft, purple locks as it didn’t seem to wake him up yet.

How you were lucky enough to meet such a magnetic force of a man you never knew. He had your snarky sense of humor, awesome taste in music, but he was kinder than he let on, and he was also brilliant, charismatic and very strong. Strong enough to carry you in his arms and over his shoulders. Now that was attractive, everything about him was attractive, inside and outside.

And you weren’t the type of person to kick magnetic, funny, kind and strong out of bed for farting up your bedsheets. 

Of course Shinsou wasn’t even AWARE of that during some nights (since he was asleep) but you decided not to tell him about that yet to spare the poor guy some embarrassment as you just ran your fingers through his hair as he began to stir a little bit.

Yeah, he was all yours. And you were so happy to have him here with you, for another year and hopefully forever. You thought as your petting slowed down a little bit.

“Don’ s’op…” You could hear him mumble rather tiredly as he kept his eyes closed as you chuckled a little bit, “You’re not a cat you know? Though I suppose you being my boyfriend is no different from having a pet cat.”

He resisted the urge to snicker as those beautiful lavender eyes of his opened to gaze into your (E/C) eyes, they never ceased to fill your heart with excitement every time he looked at you. “If I’m your boyfriend and if I’m your pet cat, then that makes you a furry.”

Oh you adored how much of a smart ass he was, because he always made you laugh as you tried to not laugh outloud when he snickered at you. “Smartass…” You sighed in content, wishing you didn’t wake up but at the same time, it was worth it to get to hear Shinsou talk to you, although you wished he didn’t yawn right in your face when you decided to try and kiss him on the forehead and you let out a small shout of disgust as you sat up and backed away.

“Uggggggh…”

“Oh… sorry…” He sheepishly apologized but was clearly trying and failing to hold in his snickers as you shuddered a bit, “Yeah, that IS sorry… ugh… it was my fault though I waked right into the danger zone that is your morning breath…”

Shinsou scoffed a little bit as he sat up, “Hey it’s not just me, you were going to KISS me with morning breath.” He pointed that out, and it was true, you had REALLY bad breath in the morning. Then again, everyone did right? “Ugh you’re right I can taste it in my mouth…”

You were disgusted with yourself, but there was nothing you could do about it until you got up to go brush your teeth. And you perked up with a small gasp when Shinsou put his hand on your cheek and kissed you gently on the lips, which sent blood rushing to your cheeks as you gladly kissed him back.

“Heh…” Pulling away with a small smirk he got out of bed, “Okay, let’s actually go do something about our morning breath.” He suggested as you nodded slowly, still blushing and smiling somewhat shyly.

“Good idea~!” You sang-songed as Shinsou turned away to let you change into your clothes, and you did so under your sheets so he couldn’t see you putting on the undergarments and so you couldn’t see him changing into some clean clothes he had left here. There were times you thought about sneaking a peek but ultimately decided not to yet.

And little did you know, Shinsou sighed and cringed when he got a whiff of his sleeping shirt upon taking it off. Yeah it was definitely due for a wash after a month, ugh it reeked of old sweat and BO, it really needed to be cleaned. How you didn’t pull away from him even when he smelt like this he’ll never know. Although there were times where he could smell YOUR BO but it wasn’t AS bad as his was at times…

He supposed he was super lucky though to have you as his girlfriend, he adored you because you were just perfect in his eyes. Unorthodox and actually acted like a normal person, but also hilarious and witty. Shinsou was mad for your style in fashion and music, and he thought you were the most beautiful person he had ever seen in his life. Not everyone might have thought so, but they must be blind if they couldn’t see what he saw in you.

How he loved to hold your body close to his and feel everything about you, so soft and so you. Everything he grew to love, all your imperfections were perfect to him, and the fact that you loved him when he was being himself made him love you even more.

“Okay… I’m ready…”

“Me too.”

Once Shinsou gave you the clarification that he was decent you got out from under the covers, dressed up in your day clothes and shamelessly looking for your deodorant, “Hold on! First I need to put on deodorant before I go, I stink!” You giggled and Shinsou rolled his eyes with a smirk, but that didn’t sound like a bad idea for him either.

“Mind if I use some?” He actually asked you, but without the shame because he could actually be this casual around you without fear of judgment. Any joke you and he made was all in good fun because both of you knew that you were both…

Gross.

It was another reason why you both got along so well and worked out so well, “Sure, but ya know I like the way you smell without deodorant Hitoshi, something about your BO makes me feel safe~.” You said with a playful smile as he shook his head.

“Really? I don’t know about that, it’s bad… I didn’t wear any yesterday so I’m sure you must have felt really safe.” He said rather breezily as you laughed a little bit, “Oh I could tell… I really could tell based on how you smelt yesterday and when we went to sleep, but… I kinda liked it~.” Gross as it was, you still sounded flirtatious with him as he gave you a bit of a look.

“That’s gross.” Shinsou didn’t mean it of course, he thought that was hilarious but also, sweet? That you apparently didn’t really mind it when he stunk, “But for today you could use some.” However you sounded a BIT more serious that time and Shinsou chuckled and took the deodorant to put on himself.

“Thanks. Take it so you can put more on later, the other day you needed more of it, bad…” He then decided to poke some fun at you as you pouted and stuck your tongue at him when he started to put his jacket on, “Hey! I can’t help it when I sweat! But I will take it because that is true… it’s like a rainforest down there sometimes…”

Shinsou resisted the urge to laugh when you talked so casually about your pits, but he didn’t mind if you sweat because frankly he did too, and your first date with him included you, him and a LOT of stress sweat. And if he was being honest with himself, he didn’t mind if you didn’t shave every now and then. A little hair in places never hurt anyone, “I’m glad I don’t have to worry about that…” But he was kinda glad that it was a bit more socially acceptable for boys to not shave.

“Yeah no you’re the lucky one...” You playfully stuck your tongue out at him and put on your own jacket as Shinsou smiled and opened the door for you to walk out of. But before the two of you left, you both went to the bathroom first to take care of that morning breath and came back to each other smelling a lot better.

“So what’s the plan today love?” He asked you somewhat lazily but not without affection since it was still just you and him in this floor and you giggled and shrugged your shoulders with a smile.

“Ya know I don’t know… I definitely wanna hit up some Starbucks… maybe buy a cookie somewhere… and probably see a movie. Denki, Fumikage, Kyoka and Yuga… we were talking about it and they thought it’d be fun~.” You announced and that seemed to surprise Shinsou, but he had learned to not really mind your friends. In fact, he liked your friends, they were his new classmates and became his friends.

Aside from you, Kaminari was the first friend he made in 1-A along with Midoriya, Tokoyami was cool, liked MCR and he could hang, Jirou was tolerable and he gained an odd soft spot for Aoyama. He enjoyed MCR like he and Tokoyami did.

“Not a bad idea… just as long as it’s a long movie. Kaminari and Tokoyami have such tiny bladders it’s hilarious and I wanna see the looks on their faces when I call them out when they get up to go.” Shinsou snickered a bit, deciding that going to the movies would be fun for him if it meant getting to make some fun at his friend’s expense.

“HA! Okay just because those two go through multiple potty breaks during movies don’t mean you can make fun of em.” You tried to defend them though, even if it WAS hilarious. And to be honest you were NOT above making fun or teasing your friends with Shinsou even behind their back sometimes…

It was funny!

“C’mon (Y/N) they make it easy… remember when we saw IT: Chapter 2? Tokoyami had to get up to go to the restroom like 6 times… and he only got up to go with Kaminari because Kaminari was actually brave enough to get up and say that he had to pee, and the Gods know Tokoyami would rather die than actually say it. And he had the SMALLEST soda cup (Y/N). The SMALLEST one.” Shinsou clearly recollected the time when all six of them went to go to the movies, which was hell for Kaminari and Tokoyami, who needed multiple bathroom breaks while Jirou and Aoyama were either more sensible or durable when it came to drinking.

“Tell me about it! Denki and Fumikage have the smallest bladders in the world! They shouldn’t be drinking at all! Fumi goes to Starbucks and gets the tall drinks, and that’s literally only 12 ounces, Denki and the others go for the grandes which are 16 ounces. And then Fumi waits for either you, Denki or Yuga or to say you gotta go pee so he could follow either one of you guys!” You didn’t mean to laugh at your friend or even add onto it but you noticed your friends’ habits and you thought it was funny, even if you did feel bad for making fun of them afterwards.

“I know, it’s embarrassing.” Shinsou however, had a little bit more fun at his friend’s expense since that was just how he was.

“Hitoshi… I mean that’s funny, but don’t make fun of someone for peeing a lot. At least he didn’t actually pee in the theater.” You put your hands on your hips as if you were scolding him as Shinsou blushed rosy pink and looked away for a moment when he remembered what you were talking about.

“I didn’t wanna miss a second of the movie… I had been waiting for the second part since 2017...” 

Was his excuse even though you shook your head with a small chuckle, since that day, rather than get up to go to the bathroom like a normal person, Shinsou instead decided to pee in his empty soda cup and you were kind enough to cover him and keep a look out for anyone who might have been around to potentially witness. And the two of you had to stay quiet when some other people in the theater started to complain about a smell in the back row and even Kaminari commented on it but neither you or Shinsou said a word.

“I know Hitoshi and I love you you sweet precious dork… but please don’t pee in the cup this time.” You kinda begged for him since you both drunk and shared that cup until he went and peed in it and rendered it useless and you didn’t want to ask Jirou if you could drink out of her’s. He sighed in slight embarrassment though as he scratched the back of his neck, “Don’t worry I won’t… what do you think we should see anyway though?”

But now you had to think about what you COULD watch since there were only so many movies out right now, “Hmm… I was thinking maybe we could play it by ear once we all get there after Starbucks…” You thought outloud and Shinsou shrugged his shoulders.

“Going spontaneous, okay cool.” However he had no problem with that at all as you smiled and texted up your little grip as the two of you walked out of the place with him to exit the dorms. And you waved at your other friends like Midoriya, Uraraka and Ashido as the two of you left.

You smiled and sighed in content when you felt the cool winter air hit your face, and Shinsou took your hand in his to keep you warm as the two of you walked and headed into town. 

“Hey Toshi… remember the first movie we saw together?” You and Shinsou weren’t exactly one for small talk, but you made it with each other since you both made exceptions for each other.

“You know what? I do remember. Shrek… of all movies.” He smirked a bit in amusement, since you were both painfully awkward around each other in the beginning even before the two of you got to UA.

Sure you actually managed to get in the Hero Course before he did (despite what you said about your quirk being lame) and it took him about a year before he got in with you, but it didn’t stop you both from seeing each other. Hell, the two of you have been friends since middle school since you both had similar interests and similarly introverted personalities. But it was only last year that you finally invited him over to your house, well, you kinda had to since you were both stuck in the rain and your house was closest.

“Hey it’s one of my favorite movies! It totally subverts all the clichés from fairy tales and romantic love stories!”

Shinsou paid attention to you, and he couldn’t help but nod in agreement with that, “Yeah you got a point… I liked the music too… and Shrek’s character. He’s a smart aleck, but he’s actually smart.” He smiled a bit when he thought about the movie. It was nostalgic and down-to-earth, and funny as hell too.

“I know right?! I love Shrek! He’s an underdog in the cliched word of fairytales! And we get to see from his point of view and he’s super likable. He’s gross, but that’s what makes him charming, everyone’s so shy to be gross nowadays… I get it, but gross makes us human ya know? He’s the most human protagonist I’ve seen in a long time and I can relate to that…” You kinda went on and on about why you enjoyed Shrek so much and Shinsou had to agree with you on that.

He was shy to be gross, well, not in private, but when it came to you he was very shy in the beginning but you were so casual and even talked about your own grossness such as talking about how bad you stunk or about how you enjoyed burping outloud and it made Shinsou gradually comfortable with himself around you.

“Yeah… I do know actually.” Shinsou started to smile a little bit. He really could relate to Shrek, that was the weird part. But it was true, since Shinsou was a pessimist when it came to love and didn’t see himself falling in love, let alone someone else falling in love with him. Shinsou didn’t find himself conventionally attractive and his personality drove some people away because they thought he was weird or ‘villainous’ looking, but not you. You always called him attractive and a hero, and somehow you made him feel attractive because of the way you looked at him with a flustered and enamored smile, which made him fall even more in love with you.

Hell, he started believing in love because of you. Maybe it was an accident, maybe he accidentally fell in love with you, but he was glad he did. Because he fucking adored you…

“Yeah! Hehe it was awesome… then you and I just ate all the snacks in my fridge and I challenged you to a burping contest.” You giggled at the memory, even though you were a LITTLE embarrassed you couldn’t stop the first belch that left you that night. But Shinsou was more amused than disgusted by it, and burped just as loud as you did to make you feel better.

“You’re still better at that than me when it comes to burping ya know?” Shinsou playfully nudged you as you snickered and looked rather proud, “Ohoho yeah… it’s a gift~. I’ll never be as good as Shrek but I’m good~.” You said with a big smile which made Shinsou smile at you tenderly.

Other people might have found you weird or gross, but every time you smiled, it was always beautiful to him. He felt like he was standing in sunshine every time he saw you smile, and at times he felt like he didn’t deserve it. Yet still he had you with him, and he knew he was one lucky guy.

“It’s a good movie. Oddly enough it has a good message. It’s okay to be gross.” He spoke his thoughts since it was true. If Shrek could find love, then he certainly could find love, and he did! You were his Princess Fiona.

He was gross and you were gross too, but he could be honest with you and you could too. He told you that he pees in the shower, you said that you pick your nose when people aren’t looking. Unfiltered and honest. It was yours and his love story.

“Exactly! And being gross is a form of love!” You happily agreed and gave him a big thumbs up as he smirked at you.

Yeah that’s true… after all, having a girlfriend like you means I can fart in bed and enjoy a nice cup of coffee and some ice cream. And it’s great.” He shared his sentiment as you burst into laughter.

“HAHAHA! Oh I know, you’ve done that plenty of times…” You kinda teased him as he tried not to snicker, but couldn’t stop himself from blushing.

“Oh like you’re not guilty of that? Don’t act like you’re not, because I know you do it. I’m in your room half the time after all.” And he turned it over to you as you stuck your tongue at him, “Hey it’s my room! And a person’s room and their bed is their trap for their own farts, and I can fart in my own room whenever I want, it’s my room!” You defended yourself though, and Shinsou couldn’t really argue with that.

“Okay I’ll give you that…”

He chuckled, and not once did he stop holding your hand as you hugged his arm when you both made it to Starbucks, and he only let you go so he could open the door for you. And you weren’t one of those women who got pissed at a guy for doing that, no you liked it when your Shinsou was being a gentleman.

“Thank you~.”

You happily thanked him as he nodded and followed you in and saw all of your friends there consisting of Kaminari, Tokoyami, Jirou and Aoyama.

“Hey! Shinsou! (L/N)!”

“Good morning.”

“Hey you guys.”

“Bonjour my friend~.”

“Hey Kyoka~! Denki~! Fumi~! Yuga~!” You sang-songed and waved to them as Shinsou gave them all a casual ‘Hey’ as all of you ordered your coffees and snacks for the morning.

And you and Shinsou were already secretly making fun of Kaminari and Tokoyami when it was time to leave but Kaminari announced that he needed to pee, with a very shy and self-conscious Tokoyami following him.

“What’d I tell ya?” Shinsou quietly whispered to you as you snickered and shook your head, lightly smacking his shoulder. “You’re mean Hitoshi…” But you couldn’t stop yourself from giggling, and it amused and touched both Jirou and Aoyama.

They knew how in love you and Shinsou were, it was so obvious but it was beautiful to see. “So (Y/N), did you guys decide on what movie to see?” Jirou however decided to ask you since that’s something she’d been wondering since she met up with these guys.

“Ah… well…! I haven’t seen Black Christmas… it’s a movie about women kicking butt I hear! I know Christmas technically already passed but I feel like seeing that kinda flick to pretend that the New Year isn’t already here…” You suggested with a fairly blasé tone which made Jirou smile a little bit.

“Women kicking butt? I’m down with that kinda flick.” To your relief, Jirou seemed pretty cool with seeing that kind of movie.

“Ah! I would also enjoy seeing it~. I’m a fan of those kind of movies.” Aoyama smiled at the thought and you smiled at the guy. He was definitely an ally to women and that’s why you considered him a dear friend.

“So it’s settled. Kaminari and Tokoyami will like that, we’ll just wait til they’re done pissing and we can get going.” Shinsou was clearly happy with the suggestion, but had to make some more fun of their friends as it sent you, Jirou and Aoyama into a fit of snickers.

“Are you going to call them out on that?” Somehow Jirou seemed to read Shinsou’s mind since she had gotten along pretty well with him since he was your boyfriend and she was your closest gal-pal. “Oh yeah, that’s the plan when we get to the theater.” He smirked and nodded which made the girl snicker since she always enjoyed teasing Kaminari and seeing him act all embarrassed for a change.

“You have a wicked sense of humor mon ami.” Aoyama was a bit more sympathetic for the two, since the silly Kaminari and the edgy Tokoyami were the easiest ones to make fun of in their little group. Although even Aoyama, arguably the nicest one of their little group, couldn’t stop himself from giggling whenever a joke was made at their expense.

“Yeah… that’s me.” Shinsou didn’t deny it though, and you didn’t mind it as you grinned, “And I love it~.” You admitted rather happily and hugged his arm yet again which made your boyfriend blush quite madly as he couldn’t help but smile at you.

“And I love you.” He quietly whispered to you which made you giggle and blush an even darker shade of red, and Aoyama and Jirou also started to blush as they averted their eyes. Even as the embarrassed Kaminari and Tokoyami returned to just see their friends all blushing.

“Is everyone all right?” Tokoyami politely asked, and you quickly laughed and shook your head to reassure the raven. “Yeah! It’s all good… hee-hee… now c’mon you guys, we’re going to see Black Christmas!” You announced rather happily which made Kaminari and Tokoyami perk up a little bit.

“Oh! That movie about the girls fighting back? Awesome! I can’t wait now!” Kaminari might have been a flirt, but he clearly had more respect for women that the bigger pervert Mineta. And Jirou couldn’t help but like that about him…

“Good choice. I’ve been wanting to see that one too.” And Tokoyami agreed, and admittedly he was interested from the moment he saw the title ‘Black Christmas’ which implied horror AND Christmas, what a delightfully wicked combination of genres.

“All riiiiight~!!” You cheered with your hands up as you and Shinsou led your little group and hugged his arm the entire time and he couldn’t help but smile. He was in the Hero Course had friends and a beautiful girlfriend, and you were so happy that he was in the Hero course with you as your boyfriend.

And they knew that the two of you were happy and so very much in love. Even if at times it was a little bit icky since Kaminari, Tokoyami, Jirou and Aoyama were partially aware of how gross you both could be based on the jokes you made together.

Plus, the group was there for you during your first date with Shinsou, and both of you came back sweaty messes because you were both insanely nervous. Jirou had to bring you extra deodorant and perfume because you were worried about your smell, and Kaminari, Tokoyami and Aoyama had to help Shinsou blot and give him body spray and a hairbrush when his sweat became a problem. In hindsight the group was starting to think that maybe you and Shinsou shouldn’t have gone on a date when the sun was at it’s highest point in the sky.

Yet, the two of you both came back a relaxed and happy new couple because you both forgot about how gross you both were. Shinsou didn’t mind a little perspiration because sweating was perfectly natural, and you didn’t mind him sweating either because you were sweating just as badly as he was and didn’t judge him. Hell, knowing that you were both insanely nervous actually made you both feel better and more comfortable around each other.

It was adorable, and actually really romantic. Albeit in a rather icky kind of way, but not all love stories are the same.

You and Shinsou both knew that too, and you both believed in love a little bit more since you were together, could be gross together and could be yourselves around each other.

Then I saw her face, now I'm a believer Not a trace, of doubt in my mind I'm in love, and I'm a believer I couldn't leave her if I tried...

#shinsou hitoshi #bnha shinsou #Shinsō Hitoshi #shinsou x reader #shinsou hitoshi x reader #mha shinsou #hitoshi x reader #bnha hitoshi #mha hitoshi #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #mha x reader #shinsou x reader fluff #hitoshi shinsou x reader #my hero academia shinsou #boku no hero academia shinsou #hitoshi x reader fluff #mha x reader fluff #bnha x reader fluff #my hero academia x reader #boku no hero academia x reader #shinsou fluff #shinsou headcanons #shinsou imagine #my hero academia imagines #mha imagines #mha imagine #bnha imagine #bnha imagines #boku no hero academia imagines

[mycupoffanfiction]

His Second Chance Part 3

Bucky x Reader

His Second Chance Masterlist

Bucky comes back from Wakanda with Steve, ready to begin his recovery from his days as the Winter Soldier, but there’s one thing he doesn’t take into account - you.

Warnings: Smutty thoughts, language, angst, fluff. 

Word count: Approx 2100

Masterlist

500 FOLLOWERS... WHAT?! I can’t believe 500 people want read my little stories, but thank you for the all of the lovely support! I’ve made a few friends on here since I started posting and seeing the regular readers on my blog kinda melts my heart because you like my writing enough to keep coming back and saying cute things and my heart is just aHHH.

Please don’t hesitate to leave suggestions or thoughts! TAG LISTS ARE OPEN! (Permanent and His Second Chance lists)

_____________________________

Knock, knock, knock. 

What an odd time for someone to be visiting your room. It was ten o’clock at night. You got up from your computer, your videogame paused as you padded across the floor in nothing but a large woollen jumper, your underwear and a pair of frilly socks. You weren’t too concerned about people seeing you in so few clothes, you’d changed into your combat gear in front of nearly everyone at least once, so it wasn’t like none of them had seen you in your underwear. You opened the door. Except for him.

 Bucky stood, surprised eyes trailing up and down your figure for a moment, his deep blue eyes were much less harsh and cold than they had been in the first couple of days and were much softer now. Perhaps you were just used to Bucky now, but he didn’t seem so intimidating anymore.

 Holy shit. Is she wearing anything under that jumper? Bucky almost gawked at the sight of your soft, bare legs. He so desperately wanted to reach out and touch your smooth skin, squeeze your thighs a little, feel them in his hands. No, stop it, stop Barnes. Control. Yourself. “Is there something wrong? Did I forget to shave a spot?” You wondered out loud, looking down at your legs, tilting your whole body at the middle to look, your beautiful hair cascading down. Bucky almost smiled at how cute you were, but he contained the smile, maintaining an inside smile. “N-no, sorry.” Bucky managed to get out. Stop fucking staring, my god!

 “Um, could you show me how to- I don’t know how to.” Bucky huffed at himself as he held up a DVD. “You want me to show you how to load that up?” You ask, pointing at the Star Wars DVD case he held in his hand. Bucky nodded, a bit more enthusiastically than intended. “Come on, I’ll show you.” You smiled, up at him, quickly bounding over to your PC to save your game just in case.

 Oh. My. Good fucking lord. Bucky found himself completely frozen as you sat on the floor in front of him, butt in the air, pretty red panties caught slightly between your cheeks, your jumper lifting just enough that Bucky had a slight view of your butt as you fiddled with the cables in the TV stand. You had no idea he could see, thinking your jumper covered it well enough. You should stop looking. No, look, it’s beautiful, she’s beautiful- no, Christ Barnes, cool it. Deeeep breath, she wouldn’t want you looking, it’s not fair. “Here we go!” You grinned over your shoulder, Bucky’s eyes immediately flicking to yours, hoping that you didn’t just catch him staring at your behind.

 “Did you want to try sitting on the sofa?” You asked, pointing at it as you got to your feet, bouncing a little. “Uh, yeah.” No, should’ve said no thank you. He nodded, stepping back so the backs of his knees were pressed against the sofa. “Okay, so this button pauses it, that one turns it off, oh and this changes the volume.” You pointed at the TV remote buttons. Bucky barely took in anything you said as he stared at you, the image of your pretty little butt in the air was well engrained in his mind and he wasn’t sure he’d be able to concentrate on the movie now. “Will you watch it with me?” He blurted out as you started to walk away. Bucky didn’t look you in the eyes as you spun on your heels to look at him, a huge grin making it’s way onto your lips. “You sure you want me to watch with you?” You asked, just to make sure. Bucky nodded, shifting awkwardly in his step. “Alright, let me get some cushions and blankets.” You beamed up at him before bounding off to find what you needed.

 You were cuddly, there was no doubt about that, but you were especially cuddly during movies and you didn’t want to make Bucky uncomfortable, so you opted to bring a whole host of cushions from your room for you to snuggle up to instead. By the time you came back to the living room, Bucky was still standing completely still in front of the sofa and you paused. “Do you want to try sitting, Buck? Or should I get you a dining chair?” You asked, glancing over at the dining table through the open archway on the other side of the room. Bucky shook his head, you weren’t sure if that was a no to sitting or a no to the dining chair, so you stood and waited for a moment.

 Come on, you did it with the dining chair, you can do it with the sofa. You saw how happy she was when you sat on the chair, if you sit on the sofa you might get to see that fucking adorable smile again. Bucky coaxed himself into it, finally, he dropped himself onto the sofa. He was as stiff as a board as he stared blankly ahead. Ooh this feels weird, so weird. Bucky looked over to see you absolutely brimming with excitement, a huge goofy, sweet grin on your lips as you bounced on the balls of your feet a little. How is she so happy for your small achievements? Is this even an achievement? She barely knows you and she’s all excited about you sitting on a goddamn sofa.

 “Is this okay?” You asked, collapsing down close to him, but not so close that you were touching. “Mhm.” Bucky nodded. No, I wish you were closer. “Want a blanket?” You offered, holding up the corner of a bright purple soft blanket. “No, thanks.” He shook his head. Bucky watched as you draped the blanket over yourself and cuddled up to your cushions. He watched as you shuffled and struggled to get comfortable as the beginning of the film started. More of his attention was on you than the film as he watched you try to get comfy. His eyes widened when you held one of your cushions close to your chest and stuffed another one between your legs. Damn cushions why aren’t I between her-. Bucky cleared his throat, making you glance at him. Why am I not one of those cushions? Cool it with the dirty thoughts Barnes.

 You got to about a third of the way into the movie, Bucky was fully engrossed at this point, but you were falling asleep. Bucky felt a little flutter on his arm and he froze up, stiffening and clenching all of his muscles. You’d accidentally touched his arm in your sleepy haze and Bucky immediately sat up in a bit of a panic, waking you up in the process. You quickly realised your hand was on his arm and you quickly retracted it. Shit, shit, shit. “I’m so sorry.” You breathed out. Bucky looked angry, his piercing glare fixed on you as if he was about to push you away or get angry at you. The way his eyes darkened and glared at you absolutely terrified you. He’s mad at you, shit he’s really mad, you fucked up. He’s gonna shout at you or shut you out or something. Panic bubbled in your chest and you felt your cheeks burn bright red, your breathing becoming uneven as you quickly sat up. “I’m so sorry.” You stressed, uttering apologies under your breath before bolting out of the room.

 Bucky’s heart broke seeing you so panicked. What had he done? Was it the way he looked at you? He wasn’t sure, but he knew he didn’t want you to go away. His heart sank as he sat back on the sofa. He really didn’t want you to go. He promised himself he wouldn’t stiffen up like that when you next touched him, he couldn’t because it scared you. Because he scared you.

 “Whoa!” Steve exclaimed as you practically threw yourself at him in the corridor, Steve letting his water bottle he was going to refill drop to the floor to embrace you. “I touched Bucky by accident and now he’s mad and- and.” You blurted out. Little did you know that Bucky could hear you from the living room. Oh… She thinks you were mad at her. He didn’t think he could ever be mad at you. Bucky listened to your panicked state. Well you really fucked that one up, the poor girl’s panicking to Steve because she thinks you were mad at her. Great job Barnes.

 “It’s alright, it was an accident, you didn’t mean to.” Steve tried to calm you, his voice soothing you and Bucky could only imagine the way that Steve was holding you. Maybe swaying you gently from side to side. He wanted to do that. “I’m sure he wasn’t really mad at you.” Steve continued. Listen to Steve, (Y/n), he’s right. Before Bucky could even think about what he was doing, he abandoned the movie and began walking down the hallway towards you both.

 Can’t back out now, Steve’s clocked you, (Y/n) can probably hear you too. Steve looked over at Bucky, he knew he hadn’t meant to seem angry; Bucky had shown on more than one occasion that he obviously liked you. He seemed to respond so well to your efforts, unlike Steve who he was still quite stubborn with, despite being closer to him. Steve just wasn’t sure if Bucky had taken to you because of your sweet personality or because you were undeniably beautiful, perhaps a bit of both.

 Bucky couldn’t quite find the right words, his mouth stayed dropped open, little stutters making their way out of his throat as he stood behind you, his gaze softening as you stayed glued to Steve. “I’m sorry Bucky.” Your voice was muffled. “I didn’t mean to.” You said into Steve’s chest. Please don’t be upset, please. Bucky didn’t know what to say and before he could even stop himself, his hand reached out slowly and rested on your shoulder. Steve looked at him surprised, but Bucky didn’t see it, he only saw the way you froze for a moment, realising that Bucky was touching you.

 You slowly turned, letting go of Steve, who took a few steps away from you both, still on the side if you needed him, but away enough that he wasn’t involved in your interaction. Bucky’s hand remained on your shoulder, your warmth under his palm soothed him. Touch was strange for him, at the same time as it feeling nice, he expected it to hurt and he had to force himself not to move away like you’d burned him. The fear and pain quickly subsided as you both locked eyes, staring at each other. “M’not mad.” Bucky mumbled, eyes soft and full of worry. Please believe me. Bucky’s heart was beating fast in his chest, he was sure Steve could hear it from where he was standing. “Can I touch you?” You squeaked out, Bucky nodded and took his hand off your shoulder.

 You slowly reached out with your delicate fingers; eyes trained on his flesh hand. Bucky stayed still, but calm as you extended your arm, fingers curling slightly as your hand neared his. Your fingertips gently grazed the back of his hand and you paused, looking up at him to check if it was okay. He gave you a little nod of approval and you gently slipped your fingers around his hand, going slowly until you were holding his hand properly. Bucky slowly closed his fingers around yours, on the inside he was screaming, but the outside was as void and as plain as usual.

 You hadn’t even noticed that Steve had left the two of you alone in the hallway while you shared your moment together. “Thank you for trusting me.” You whispered and you paused for a moment, seeing the edges of his lips twitch up into a smile that lasted only for a split second. Did Bucky just smile? Bucky just smiled. And it was because of you.

Bucky trusted you and it was the greatest feeling.

 You’re not ready for this, you idiot. Bucky felt like his skin was on fire while you touched him. You were so soft, so gentle, he wanted to enjoy it, god, he really fucking did, but he just couldn’t. The way your face lit up was addictive to him, he just wanted to see you happy, even if it meant sacrificing his own comfort. Seeing him try made you happy, even if it wasn’t what he wanted, but he’d never tell you that.

He couldn’t.

______________________________

Permanent Tag List:

@shygirl-00 @swanlakemikey @scuzmunkie @paintballkid711 @lovelylilia @mapreza1 @love-bucky-3000 @cals-cigarette @scarlett-berserker @2407zzz @mercurybarnes @mywinterwolf

His Second Chance Tag List:

@socialheartbreak @whatsupbucky @yesno18 @just-a-littlebit-of-everything @crystallstaircase @megantje123 @fantua @lady-x-red

#bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky fluff #bucky fanfic #bucky x you #sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x you #sebby stan #steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #chris evans #chris evans x reader #sam wilson #the avengers #avengers #avengers x reader #mcu #mcu fic #winter solider fanfiction #winter soldier #fanfic #fanfiction #series #fic series #marvel #marvel mcu

[nightunite]

I'm the soft sibling but... A-all of them??

I’ve been waiting, my sibster...

1. Who was the last person you held hands with?

Probably @safetyfirstbiatch

 2. Are you outgoing or shy? 

Shy in the beginning, outgoing afterwards!

3. Who are you looking forward to seeing? 

@safetyfirstbiatch @tricksandmagix

4. Are you easy to get along with? 

Sometimes

5. If you were drunk would the person you like take care of you? 

Probably not

6. What kind of people are you attracted to? 

Loyal, funny, can tease me like I tease them, won’t mock my anxiety, etc.

7. Do you think you’ll be in a relationship two months from now? 

Nope

8. Who from the opposite gender is on your mind? 

Gonna say Bucky Barnes

9. Does talking about sex make you uncomfortable? 

Nah

10. Who was the last person you had a deep conversation with? 

@binkysteebnpewter @breadgenie892 @fuzzy-cloud-head-queen @andyl394

11. What does the most recent text that you sent say? 

“I might post this on tumblr”

12. What are your 5 favorite songs right now? 

Blink-182: Black rain

Halsey&Marina Mashup: Gasoline and Savages

Saweetie: My type

Dermot Kennedy: Power Over You

chillpill: Fuck the Club

13. Do you like it when people play with your hair? 

Nope

14. Do you believe in luck and miracles? 

Yep

15. What good thing happened this summer? 

SHAVED ICE AND THE FAM

16. Would you kiss the last person you kissed again? 

Nah

17. Do you think there is life on other planets? 

Yes

18. Do you still talk to your first crush? 

Nah

19. Do you like bubble baths? 

Yes

20. Do you like your neighbors? 

Nah

21. What are you bad habits? 

Impulsive, loud, awkward, dont like vacuuming

22. Where would you like to travel? 

Yes

23. Do you have trust issues? 

Yes

24. Favorite part of your daily routine? 

Nap time

25. What part of your body are you most uncomfortable with? 

Thighs

26. What do you do when you wake up? 

Play Animal Crossing

27. Do you wish your skin was lighter or darker? 

No but I wish it was healthy

28. Who are you most comfortable around? 

@safetyfirstbiatch

29. Have any of your ex’s told you they regret breaking up? 

Yup

30. Do you ever want to get married? 

Sure

31. If your hair long enough for a pony tail? 

It’s always up so yeah

32. Which celebrities would you have a threesome with?

None?

 33. Spell your name with your chin. 

(Cant attempt this tbh I have a big ol hormone zit about ready to pop)

34. Do you play sports? What sports? 

Nope

35. Would you rather live without TV or music? 

Without TV

36. Have you ever liked someone and never told them? 

Of course!

37. What do you say during awkward silences?

Some stupid joke or story

 38. Describe your dream girl/guy? 

I’ve answered this in previous asks but see #6

39. What are your favorite stores to shop in? 

Lush, Barnes&Noble, Candy Stores

40. What do you want to do after high school? 

I’m already a college graduate, but lab work

41. Do you believe everyone deserves a second chance? 

No

42. If your being extremely quiet what does it mean? 

I’m either busy, sleeping, or anxious

43. Do you smile at strangers? 

Sometimes

44. Trip to outer space or bottom of the ocean?

Outer space

 45. What makes you get out of bed in the morning? 

Animal Crossing and food

46. What are you paranoid about?

Everything tbh anxiety sucks 

47. Have you ever been high? 

No

48. Have you ever been drunk? 

No

49. Have you done anything recently that you hope nobody finds out about? 

No but I’ve been hella simping

50. What was the colour of the last hoodie you wore? 

Grey and yellow, my hufflepuff hoodie

51. Ever wished you were someone else?

Nah

 52. One thing you wish you could change about yourself? 

Have healthier skin aka no genetic issues

53. Favourite makeup brand?

Dont wear any

 54. Favourite store? 

Barnes&Noble

55. Favourite blog? 

@bunjywunjy

56. Favourite colour? 

Periwinkle

57. Favourite food? 

I’m a slut for pretzel bites right now

58. Last thing you ate? 

Cheese ravioli

59. First thing you ate this morning?

Sour cream&onion chips

 60. Ever won a competition? For what? 

Won a ribbon for a literary contest

61. Been suspended/expelled? For what? 

Nah

62. Been arrested? For what? 

Nah

63. Ever been in love? 

Don’t know tbh

64. Tell us the story of your first kiss? 

Already answered this on previous asks, but it was after a movie in his car

65. Are you hungry right now? 

Nah

66. Do you like your tumblr friends more than your real friends? 

Nah, they’re equal

67. Facebook or Twitter? 

Twitter

68. Twitter or Tumblr? 

Tumblr

69. Are you watching tv right now? 

Nah

70. Names of your bestfriends? 

@safetyfirstbiatch @tricksandmagix

71. Craving something? What? 

Shaved ice, blue raspberry and lime flavor

72. What colour are your towels? 

Salmon pink and mold green, got em real ugly

72. How many pillows do you sleep with? 

2, one under my head and one against my side

73. Do you sleep with stuffed animals? 

Yup a Totodile

74. How many stuffed animals do you think you have? 

Like 80+

75. Favourite animal? 

Frogs

76. What colour is your underwear? 

Black

77. Chocolate or Vanilla? 

Chocolate

78. Favourite ice cream flavour? 

Chocolate

79. What colour shirt are you wearing? 

Black

80. What colour pants? 

Black

81. Favourite tv show? 

Masterchef

82. Favourite movie? 

James and the Giant Peach

83. Mean Girls or Mean Girls 2? 

Mean Girls

84. Mean Girls or 21 Jump Street? 

Mean Girls

85. Favourite character from Mean Girls? 

Janis

86. Favourite character from Finding Nemo? 

Dory

87. First person you talked to today? 

The fam

88. Last person you talked to today? 

The fam

89. Name a person you hate? 

Trump

90. Name a person you love? 

@safetyfirstbiatch

91. Is there anyone you want to punch in the face right now? 

Anti-vaxxers

92. In a fight with someone? 

Nah

93. How many sweatpants do you have? 

2 pairs

94. How many sweaters/hoodies do you have? 

like 6

95. Last movie you watched? 

Sky High (I regret nothing)

96. Favourite actress? 

Zendaya

97. Favourite actor? 

Sebastian Stan

98. Do you tan a lot? 

Nope

99. Have any pets? 

A cat and a corgi

100. How are you feeling? 

Pretty alright

101. Do you type fast? 

Yup!

102. Do you regret anything from your past? 

A couple things, time I wish I had listened better

103. Can you spell well? 

Decently

104. Do you miss anyone from your past? 

Not really

105. Ever been to a bonfire party? 

Nope!

106. Ever broken someone’s heart? 

Probably but I was never told

107. Have you ever been on a horse? 

Nope

108. What should you be doing? 

Sleeping

109. Is something irritating you right now? 

My back

110. Have you ever liked someone so much it hurt? 

Yup!

111. Do you have trust issues?

Of course

 112. Who was the last person you cried in front of? 

@safetyfirstbiatch while laughing I’m pretty sure

113. What was your childhood nickname? 

‘Hey you’

114. Have you ever been out of your province/state? 

Yes, been to several other states and the Bahamas

115. Do you play the Wii? 

I used, played so much Harvest Moon Animal Parade

116. Are you listening to music right now? 

Yup, mothra’s theme

117. Do you like chicken noodle soup? 

Nope

118. Do you like Chinese food? 

Nope

119. Favourite book? 

The Serpent King is one of my favorites

120. Are you afraid of the dark?

Nah

 121. Are you mean? 

Sometimes

122. Is cheating ever okay? 

In extreme extenuating circumstances like ‘You refuse to let me out of this marriage despite knowing we don’t even like each other’

123. Can you keep white shoes clean? 

Somewhat yeah

124. Do you believe in love at first sight? 

Yeah

125. Do you believe in true love?

Yeah

 126. Are you currently bored? 

Nah

127. What makes you happy? 

Little things; rain, smell of a new book, soft sheets.

128. Would you change your name? 

Nah

129. What your zodiac sign? 

Leo

130. Do you like subway? 

Nah

131. Your bestfriend of the opposite sex likes you, what do you do? 

Either let em down easy or see if it works

132. Who’s the last person you had a deep conversation with? 

The fam

133. Favourite lyrics right now? 

Dont have any honestly

134. Can you count to one million? 

Sure but it takes a while

135. Dumbest lie you ever told?

‘Can’t go, Mom needs me to watch the dog’ -Dog is in fact being taken to daycare in plain view of person

 136. Do you sleep with your doors open or closed? 

Open a crack

137. How tall are you?

5′6

 138. Curly or Straight hair? 

Wavy

139. Brunette or Blonde? 

Brunette

140. Summer or Winter? 

Fuck both, Fall

141. Night or Day? 

Night

142. Favourite month? 

July

143. Are you a vegetarian?

Nope

 144. Dark, milk or white chocolate?

Milk

 145. Tea or Coffee? 

Neither, soda

146. Was today a good day?

Yeah it was pretty great

147. Mars or Snickers?

Snickers even though I have a peanut sensitivity

 148. What’s your favourite quote?

Don’t have one, sorry

 149. Do you believe in ghosts? 

Yup! 

150. Get the closest book next to you, open it to page 42, what’s the first line on that page? 

“This is madness” - Sorcery of Thorns

[hadirtybubble]

I Wrote This Because I Watched Underworld Pt. 2

Close your eyes.

What do you see?

Do you see memories?

Dreams?

Hopes?

When I close my eyes, I see the dark.

I see my fears.  

I see my daydreams that scare me into sleep.

1

Happily ever after doesn’t exist. I’ve always known this, even as a child. That never stopped me from hoping, though. It would be so nice if it were true. 

Too bad, I think as I walk down the street toward my apartment. It’s a cloudy, warm day and the street is bustling with people. It’s almost time for the fall festival that they have every year. I’ve never understood why it was thing. Games, dancing, music, all this work and for what? To hope for a good harvest before the winter killed everything? Seems like too much work for me. 

I stop to watch as Mrs. Gilligan puts a banner over her shop’s door. She’s a short, older woman, maybe in her late 60’s. Her dark gray hair is in a tight bun with a flower in the middle. She’s nice enough, but very serious about everything. I would go help her with putting that stupid thing up, if I didn’t know that the moment I tried, she would shoo me away saying that she is more than capable to do it herself. Her husband is holding the ladder for her. He is a thin, tall man with a smile as mischievous as the Cheshire cat. You can tell that he got into quite a bit of shenanigans back in the day. He seems as carefree as his wife is serious. Quite the pair those two make. 

Mr. Gilligan helps his wife down the ladder and before she reaches the last step, he picks her up and swings her around in his arms before planting a very loving kiss on her lips. She tips her head back and laughs like a teenage girl on her first date. She’s very pretty when she smiles. 

I start walking down the street again. I see a lot of people I know the names of. Dennis Magner, the owner of the bakery three doors down, is setting up a table outside of his shop. Probably going to sell some of his goods. I hope he sets out his brownies. They are absolutely heavenly and probably my favorite thing that he makes. His daughter, Anna, is standing by the front door, waiting for instructions that probably will never come. Dennis would rather do everything himself, naturally. He’s a bit of a headstrong man, with the demeanor of a rebel. Even has the fitting tattoos on his arms and neck that would usually make the timid people of this town scurry off into the sunset. He’s made a name for himself, though, so most people don’t pay any mind to it anymore. Anna isn’t any different from her father. Tattoos up her arms with blue hair that goes just past the middle of her back. Personally, I like the look of them. However, I doubt my opinion would be worth much to their proud family. 

Aiden Berger, the daughter of the owner of the pub on the corner, is walking toward the park at the end of the street. Probably to put up flyers of some kind. Her style just as much a rebel as Anna Magner is, only with the half shaved head and gauges to match. She is nowhere as nice as Anna is, though. Her face is in a constant scowl that only ever lets up when she sees a cat. I think I’ve only ever heard her say one sentence that wasn’t condescending or nasty in nature. Not that I mind. It’s pretty entertaining to watch her at the pub. Her being blessed with the body of a goddess does cause quite a few people, men and women alike, to want a piece of that. Watching her shut them down in the rudest way possible can be the highlight of my day. I’m quite fond of her, even though she could probably kill me with one look. 

Ioan Pearce is following after Aiden. He’s basically a puppy dog that has imprinted onto her. He’s dressed in his typical frat boy shorts and a white T-shirt. His blonde hair is shorter than it was last week, with the sides shaved almost to the skin and the top long enough to go past his ears. His whole presence had a very frat boy feel to it. I’m not sure what he hopes to gain by pursuing her, but it’s his funeral. He walks past me as he catches up to her. I stop to check my phone when he finally catches up to her. 

“A, why won’t you talk to me? Was it something I did?” Ioan says a little too loudly as he places his hand on her shoulder. As soon as it makes contact, Aiden grabs his wrist and twists his arm behind his back as gracefully as a martial arts master. He cries out in surprise as she pushes him against a wall. “Ow! Aiden, what the hell!?” 

“I’ve told you not to touch me,” Aiden growls at him. “What the hell do you want?”

“I just wanted to know why you seem mad at me. You haven’t talked to me in three days.” Aiden let go of his arm and he turned around. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing that concerns you, Ioan.”

“Nothing that concerns me? Why would you say that? I don’t understand what’s happening. I thought you liked me.”

“I do, but that doesn’t matter.” Aiden looks a little sad when she says this. “This can’t happen.” At this point, quite a few people (myself included) have stopped to watch the spectacle. Ioan looked hurt and ready to cry. Aiden looked close to the same, but still firm. Her blue eyes are looking at Ioan with a mixture of regret and pain, but didn’t say anymore. She turned away from him and continued down the street as Ioan leaned against the wall to a shop. I stepped closer to him and put my hand on his shoulder. Before I could say anything, he shrugged it off while saying, “Don’t touch me, crow.” He ran back down the street from where he originally came. 

I continued walking down the street toward my apartment. I don’t know why I try to help people who want nothing to do with me or my family, but I can’t help it. It’s a compulsion, I guess. Maybe it’s because of all of the fairytales of my childhood, or my everlasting hope of some kind of connection. Either way, I doubt I’ll find someone who will want to be in my life at this point. I think of this while I walk. I eventually start to zone out and not pay attention to what’s going on around me. 

Crow, I think. What a stupid nickname. How did they even come up with that? I don’t even look like a crow. 

“Hey!” Someone yelling breaks me out of my head and I stop. I turn and see an unfamiliar person to my left. Her bright, yellow-hazel eyes take me by surprise. She was very pretty. Tall and curvy, with long, brown hair with a white streak in it. Odd, considering she couldn’t be more than twenty-five. She looked at me expectantly, like she was waiting for me to acknowledge her. 

“Yes?” I ask, hesitantly. 

“Do you know where the Berger’s pub is?” She continues staring at me with her hazel eyes with an almost permanent frown on her face. I started to wonder what her smile would look like when I remember that I’m supposed to reply. 

“Oh, uhm, it’s on that corner over there.” I said, hesitantly. 

She looked down the street to where the pub sits. She looked back at me and said, “Would you mind walking me down there? I’m not very familiar with area. I don’t want to get lost again.” 

I’m sure she can see the sign for the pub from here. It’s kind of hard to miss. “Uh, sure. No problem. Follow me.” I started walking toward the pub. She followed me while staying a few steps behind me. I looked back a few times since I couldn’t tell whether she was still there or not. Each time, she looked like she was about to kill a man. Kind of reminds me of Aiden. 

We finally reach the front of the pub and I turn toward her again. “Here you go,” I say as I start to walk back toward my apartment. 

“Wait,” she says. I turn toward her again and wait. She says nothing for a few seconds, looking at me. “What’s your name?” she finally says. 

“Ava. Ava Wefan.”

“Wefan, huh?” She looks at me very seriously. Like she was trying to calculate something.

“Uhm, yeah. Wefan.” I shuffle on my feet nervously as she looks me up and down. This was the longest conversation I’ve had in weeks and I was starting to get uncomfortable. I get like that, especially with attractive people. And she was very attractive. Her eyes are so bright and focused that I can’t look at her without getting even more nervous. 

“Interesting. Do you happen to know Aiden Berger?” 

“Yeah, I know of her. We don’t exactly talk to each other very often.” More like, we haven’t spoken to each other in nearly two years but whatever. I glanced around to see if anyone was watching us. Nope, not a soul. I look back at the woman who is still studying me. I wish she would stop. I put my hands in my jacket pockets to help with my feelings of awkwardness. 

Please stop looking at me.

“Okay,” the mysterious woman says as she turned her eyes away. “I’ll stop looking at you on one condition.” My jaw nearly falls off my face. Did she hear me!? She slowly blinks, then looks at me again. “Let me buy you a drink. As a thank you for showing me the pub.” I look straight into her eyes for the first time since meeting her. I’m still confused about the answer to my private thoughts and am not sure how to react. How was she able to hear what I was thinking? Is she able to hear everything in my head? Has she been able to hear everything I’ve been thinking since we met? What the hell??

“Sorry,” I say. “I don’t really drink.” I want to get out of this situation ASAP. This feels dangerous and I want no part of it. 

“That’s too bad,” she says while looking around. “Well, I guess I’ll see you later.” She turns toward the door, then stops and looks at me. “My name is Ria, by the way. Ria Durham.” Stare. “See ya.” Then she steps through the door and disappears into the hustle and bustle that is the pub. 

I turn back toward my apartment and run. I run as fast I can back to my safety net of isolation before someone else can talk to me. By the time I reach my home, I’m huffing and puffing like the big, bad wolf with asthma. Running, I think. Always a bad idea. I pull out my keys while still gulping down air. As soon as I turn the lock and step inside, I breathe a ragged sigh of relief. I never want to talk to another person again. I collapse against my door and try to compose myself. 

She was terrifying. I rub my hands against my face and tuck my knees to my chest. After a moment, I lean my head against the door and let my legs relax a little. I look at my ceiling and try to continue catching my breath. “Ria Durham, huh,” I say softly. I shake my head and stand up. I hear a thud from the kitchen counter and look up. It’s my cat, Sabbath. He’s a thin, black cat who is a pain in the neck if he’s hungry. His big, green eyes look at me expectantly. “Dinner time, yeah?” I scratch under his chin while I turn toward the cupboard where I keep his food and pull it out. 

“Meow!” I hear him yell. 

“I’m getting it, you noisy thing. Give me a minute.” I pulled out his food dish and filled it halfway. I turn to the cute mat where his water dish is and set down his meal. He immediately runs to it and begins gobbling it up. “Are you that hungry?” I squatted down next to him and watch him eat. “You act like I haven’t fed you in days. Dirty liar.” I stay there for a while before I smile and stand up. 

I walk to the fridge and pull out a water. I chug it while also eating an apple. Fitting dinner for me. Ha.

I walked to the bathroom and looked into the mirror. My short hair looks greasy and sticks in random places. It’s faded from a bright red to a sad, light pink. I can see my dark, brown roots peeking underneath the color. I need to redye it. 

I look at my gray eyes and study the color. Pale gray irises with specks of gold stare back at me. I never liked my eyes. They’re too noticeable. Draw too much attention. Why couldn’t they have been a common brown or even a dark blue? At least new people who see me wouldn’t stare so much. 

Like Ria. The thought caught me off guard. Her beautiful eyes flash in my mind. My heart begins to pound and my hands begin to shake. Stop thinking about her, I firmly tell myself. I had almost forgotten about the random meeting. Was she really able to hear my thoughts or did she just read my body language? I shake my head. Of course it was my body language. If I had acted any more nervous, I would have started vibrating. 

I turn on the sink and wash my face several times. I look at myself in the mirror again. I’ll forget all about it. It was just random meeting. I’ll never see her again. Quit worrying about nothing. I walk out of the bathroom toward my bedroom, determined to forget the whole encounter. I change into my pajamas and crawl into bed. Sabbath jumps on top of me and nuzzles into the curve of my stomach and legs. 

“Goodnight, Sabbath,” I say as I pet his small head. “Sweet dreams.” I turn off the side lamp and get comfortable. 

Time to forget everything from today, I think to myself. 

I close my eyes and begin to drift. 

#underworld #part 2 #pt 2 #writing #story

[arrowvengerhawkeye]

Once in A Lifetime

Summary: Normal, Clint decided a long time ago, is the wrong word to use when trying to describe his unbelievably out-of-wack life. Normal people don't have almost superhuman aim. Normal people don't have an assassin best friend to fit their own assassin lifestyle. Normal people don't run away from a shitty home life to a circus that specializes in crime. Normal people certainly don't jump across rooftops fighting evil forces with a ragtag group of Superheroes put together by a secret agency that employs his previously stated assassin lifestyle. If he was any other person he'd think it sad that being abducted from his top-notch security home was just another run-of-the-mill operation for him. Being who he is, however, he's just annoyed at the fact that he's not alone in his oh so graceful kidnapping and his partner, in this case, isn't someone who would be useful in the situation. No, it just happens to be Tony fucking Stark.

Great job Barton, let's see how this one turns out.

Pairings: IronHawk/ Clint x Tony

Warning(s)-- for entire story: PTSD, Child Abuse, Child Neglect, Torture (emotional and physical), graphic depictions of violence

AO3 

For @garcon-amoureux-rouge

Clint heaves a sigh for what feels like the millionth time that morning alone, bare chest glistening from a sheen of water. He stares himself in the eyes, the edges of the mirror still fogged from the scalding shower he’d just taken, and refuses to blink. His worn down reflection glared back with familiar cold and steely silver eyes but a part of him still expected them to fade into an almost glowing electric cerulean. Calloused fingers flexed, gripping the sides of the porcelain sink and he watched as his arms flexed and his muscles tensed. His eyes trailed along the skin of his arms and glanced at the exposed flesh of his chest. He took in every scar despite having memorized the intricate map they’d carved into his body. Some marks were ugly and knotted, raised and still pink in places despite being years old like the puckered wound on his shoulder that throbbed during especially cold winters. Others were thin, white, little things that one could overlook as if they were but an accidental slip of hand while shaving. Not him though, no, not Clint. He knew every scar, every mark, and he remembered every story no matter how old or how gruesome; he remembered.

With a shake of his head he snapped himself from his thoughts and pushed himself away from the sink. It was one of those days where he woke up feeling off. A spark of discontent in his chest from the moment he woke up and old memories from however long ago haunting him at the edge of his thoughts. Usually Natasha would be there to snap him out of it and bring him back, stage him and his mind in a reality he couldn’t ignore, but she wasn’t here right now. She was on an uncover mission in a classified location (classified meaning she told him the moment she knew), gathering intel and had been for almost a week now. They’d both known he was long overdue for one of these contemplative remembrance spells-- he refused to call them existential-- but neither of them mentioned it. He was a big boy, he could take care of himself.

He left the bathroom without a second glance at the mirror, unease blooming in his stomach at the idea of looking at himself again and possibly glancing at a blue that had only ever truly been there once. He made quick work of getting dressed, feeling goosebumps rise on his naked skin as he left the heat of the bathroom and entered the air conditioned bedroom attached. He grabbed the underwear laid on top of the clothes set out on his already pristinely made bed and tugged them on before sliding on the dark jeans underneath. He kept his room almost outrageously cold, the AC almost always running even in the winter months, but it was an odd comfort for him that no one questioned and Natasha understood. He sat on the edge of the bed and pulled on his socks followed quickly by his oldest pair of steel-toed combat boots, S.H.I.E.L.D issue and practically falling apart but simultaneously comfortable and practical thanks to their worn down state and constant use. He could already feel the warmth seeping back into his skin, cloth soaking up any remainder of water left on his body. With yet another sigh he grabbed the shirt from his designated clothing pile, black and short-sleeved, and tugged it on over his head before stretching out an arm to grab the multipurpose hearing aids settled on his nightstand so he could put them in.

Dressed enough to be decent with recently activated hearing Clint leaned back and fell onto the mattress, folding his arms comfortably underneath his head and staring at the high ceiling for a moment. He just needed to take a moment to take a breath. Not too long ago he was practically living on the Helicarrier with a rogue, run-down apartment he hadn’t spent any time in before Lucky, who had now been snuck into the tower with promise from J.A.R.V.I.S of telling no one. Now he lived on his own floor, with almost complete privacy if he so desired, in a tower filled with superheroes on a team he was a part of. It was a drastic change, going from unknown assassin to hidden Avenger. It was only thanks to S.H.I.E.L.D that his and Natasha’s faces were almost entirely undisclosed so they could continue their more stealth based line of work. It was an interesting life, certainly, but it was a good one. Clint thought it suited him well.

“Agent Barton,” JARVIS’, no one referred to the A.I like the acronym he was, it just felt wrong, voice springing to life without so much as a whir, “It is approaching six a.m.” The A.I reported dutifully in his ever-so-polite British accent. Clint always wondered why JARVIS had such an accent but he’d never actually gotten around to asking the resident genius. Maybe if he got the chance today, before he forgot once again thanks to the interesting quality of their lives.

“Thank you, JARVIS.” Clint responded, pushing himself up and snatching the old leather jacket laying next to him and standing as he shrugged it on. Clint had a rule to be out of his room on weekends by o’ six hundred on the dot so he could hit the communal kitchen before anyone else was awake, except Natasha, and get a head start on the day. None of them used their personal kitchens anyway. He wasn’t used to sleeping a lot, always something to do or missions to finish so it worked out for him. He had to stay on his toes, never too comfortable and always alert.

“Of course, Agent Barton.” JARVIS assured, leaving Clint to only the near silent hum of the air conditioning. When he opened the door leading from the room portion of his floor a golden lump laying in front of his door like a roadblock hopped up and immediately began darting around his feet, practically falling against his legs.

Clint snorted and kneeled, smiling like a mad man as he ran his fingers through the dark caramel fur of the retriever and ruffling the mound of fluff as he scratched behind the dog’s floppy ears. Lucky blinked his single big brown eye at Clint and let out a soft whine before butting his head against the archer’s slowing hands, tail wagging a mile a minute when the man continued scratching with vigor. Clint laughed, tilting Lucky’s head up and gently bumping their foreheads together, “I’m sorry buddy,” he said with a particularly aggressive shake of the dog’s ruff, “I passed out as soon as I got back and I guess I didn’t notice you weren’t in the room with me.” Was it weird Clint took Lucky’s onslaught of slobbery licks as a reassurance? Probably, but Clint wasn’t really a normal guy anyway.

The dog, seeming to accept Clint’s apology without fault, turned and bolted excitedly down the small corridor leading to the large open space of the floor complete with living area and attached open kitchen along with more closets then any single person should need. Lucky made a b-line for the two dog bowls against the base of the breakfast bar separating said kitchen from said living area and gave Clint this sad, pleading look that only a dog could give. It didn’t matter how well fed Lucky was or how long ago the dog had eaten, one look at that superb little face and Clint would give Lucky anything. Natasha found it both adorable and pathetic how easily he could withstand various torture methods and then turn around and cave instantly at any mutt’s begging.

He agreed wholeheartedly, but he’d never tell her that.

Clint was quick to fill Lucky’s bowl with dog food before filling a stray cup with water from the fridge and tipping off the water dish. Lucky dug into the kibble like he was starving, tail swaying lazily as Clint ran a steady hand down the length of his spine. It was top of the line food, real meat and everything. Not Clint’s choice, but JARVIS had insisted that Tony said he’d care for their needs and that included, apparently, feeding his secret pet. It’s not like Tony would notice the charge of dog food on his receipts and JARVIS was sworn to secrecy so there was no reason to decline the offer. That means that Lucky was now eating better than he ever had, but if Clint was being honest the dog still had a diet mostly consisting of Pizza.

“Alright Luck, I’ll be back.” Clint gave the shaggy retriever one last affectionate scratch, “You and I both know the best coffee pot is on the communal level so you’ll have to eat alone today.” Lucky lifted his muzzle from the bowl for a moment and looked at Clint before turning back and lapping up some of the water. Clint huffed out an amused breath and stood, making for the elevator next to the door leading to the stairs with a vague wave towards the audibly crunching Lucky signifying the dog once again eating away.

The trip down to the communal levels was short and sweet, the elevator sliding down without interruption as usual and opening to the familiar setting of the neutral zone. What wasn’t familiar was the sight of Tony Stark lounging on one of the couches looking for the most part asleep. If Clint was Clint he would’ve bought it.

“So, where are the others?” Clint asked as he exited the elevator, making a b-line for the kitchen to his right and grabbing the pot from the coffee machine. He took a swig from the almost empty container and turned to look over the breakfast bar at the figure of Tony Stark taking up the length of the couch. He knew, of course, where Natasha was, and Thor was off with his girlfriend somewhere, but Steve and Banner had still been in the tower when he’d retreated to his floor the night before. Usually, Clint could here Steve getting ready this early and Banner was usually wherever Stark was. Considering Stark was here and he hadn’t heard Steve preparing for his morning run, the two weren’t around.

Stark grunted, removing the arm that was tossed carelessly over his eyes to tilt his head up and glare at Clint, “It’s too early for questions, come back later.” The arm was then re-situated over Tony’s face and the genius made a show of tilting his entire body away from the kitchen and therefore the archer inside.

“It’s no one’s fault but yours that you didn’t sleep last night, Stark,” Clint downed the rest of the pot and slid it back onto its stand before opening the fridge and grabbing an apple from the lower drawer. “JARVIS, can you tell me where Steve and Banner are?” He requested, taking a loud bite from the fruit in his hand and relishing in the way Tony cringed from his place in the room over.

“Captain Rogers and Dr. Banner were called away to S.H.I.E.L.D at exactly four-thirty a.m, Agent Barton.” JARVIS’ soothing British tone filtered down from the ceiling, “And may I apologize for Sir’s behavior, he may have ingested too much alcohol for a normal night.” Clint raised an eyebrow, gazing at the billionaire almost expectantly waiting for the man to dignify the A.I’s confession with some snarky response. Instead, all Clint heard was an oddly dejected sigh.

Clint pushed away from the fridge and took another, much quieter, bite of his apple. He looked Tony over but there was nothing new to see, the man just looked exhausted. Maybe the exhaustion just ran a lot deeper than Clint first suspected. “Are you hungover?” he questioned, eyes narrowing when Tony huffed. “Am I gonna have to ask the A.I again?”

“What do you think, Hawk-ass?” Tony tried to sound casual but the words came out strained through clenched teeth.

Clint hummed softly, if only to prove that he hadn’t left while Tony wasn’t looking, and strode silently towards the couch and crossed him arms. He looked back on the last couple days trying to determine if anything had been amiss but Tony hadn’t been any extravagant kind of self-destructive recently and Clint had never been fooled by the man’s masks before. So he lifted himself carefully onto the back of the couch, skillfully unnoticed and balanced, and sat back on his haunches on the the spine. Just watching Tony now was like watching a star implode in slow motion, it was like with every breath the billionaire’s skin grew paler and his hands more clammy. He rested his arms on his knees simply for the illusion of being casual and tilted his head.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asked. Tony startled at his sudden close proximity, flailing in attempt to keep his over-the-top reaction from landing him on the floor. He gripped the dark cushions to keep himself steady and glared at Clint with frightened brown eyes. But it was more than that, there was something more than basic surprise in those eyes. There was something that made Tony afraid lingering in the back of those eyes. Clint felt himself tensing, shoulders squaring, and the urge to clench his jaw and grind his teeth snuck up on him. It’s not an unusual feeling, a kind of primal protectiveness that came with who he was and the shit he’s been through. The unusual part was that it was directed towards Tony, of all people.

“I need to get you and Romanoff bells,” Tony insisted, falling back against the arm of the couch as his heart ceased racing. It wasn’t the first time Tony’s said something like that and it sure as hell wouldn’t be the last, but the genius never acted on it. Besides, they’d just take off any jingling bobbles anyway.

“You didn’t answer my question,” Clint rumbled, voice low and cautious but tinted with the underlying concern he felt bubbling up inside of him. The look on Tony’s face and the way the man held himself made it very clear to Clint he was dealing with a wild animal.

“Not important-” Tony tried to deflect. Always deflecting; always hiding.

“Very important,” Clint interrupted gruffly, glaring daggers at the man and daring the brunette to argue. Tony, against all odds, obeyed. That was setting off even more alarms in Clint’s head. Tony never backed down on the opportunity to argue it out with him, usually a battle of wit and snark between the two. Clint’s never seen Tony be so compliant without so much as a comeback. So Clint sighed again, rolling his shoulders and doing his best to release the tension that coiled his muscles tight. He was getting tired of sighing so much. “Look, Tony, we’re on a team together and against popular belief I do give a shit about the people I work with. So can you stop bullshitting me for like fifteen minutes and tell me what’s wrong?” Not his best motivational speech by a long shot, but perhaps it’ll do.

Tony stared at him. He stared hard and long and kept his face as neutral and blank as an expressive guy like Tony could. If Clint was anyone else he wouldn’t be able to read the emotions that continued to explode in brown orbs, he wouldn’t have been able to see the pain and fear and wariness. He was shocked to see the inkling of hope, the slight dilation fighting against the fight or flight response ticking like a time bomb inside Tony’s head. Clint didn’t break eye contact and let his face relax, hoping the protective fire that shone in him was at least somewhat visible to the billionaire. He wanted Tony to know he was serious. That he wasn’t just fucking with him. He knew he could very well say it out loud if need be, but he wasn’t the best with words at the best of times let alone on one of his very own off days.

For a moment the two of them seemed locked in their own little psychic match of tug-o-war. Trying to prove which one of them had a higher will power and see which one of them would walk away first. Tony’s expression became more and more calculating as the seconds ticked by and slowly but surely the steel left his features. The world decided it was Tony’s turn to sigh, for which Clint was thankful, and the Stark practically melted into the cushions of the expensive furniture. Those haunted eyes stared at the ceiling now but to Clint it seemed more like Tony was gazing through it, off into a reality that only he could see. They were silent for a few moments more. Clint was content to wait.

“Do you know how I got this?” Tony finally broke the silence, raising an arm from where it had landed thrown over his stomach to tap the reactor in his chest. The room was filled with a soft tink tink as Tony’s nail clinked against the metal skeleton.

Another beat of silence.

“Afghanistan. A man named Yinsen helped you make it.” Clint answered in a quiet tone, not quite a whisper but a voice clearly trying not to disturb the atmosphere. Clint remembered the files perfectly, any important information he had access to regarding his team- friends- was knowledge he made himself well-acquainted with. “I’m sorry, for what happened.” He added distractedly, as an afterthought. Tony seemed shocked by the words, eyeing him carefully before returning his gaze to where it still stared through the ceiling.

“It was the first time something like that happened to me,” Tony confessed. Another beat of silence, “Guess my irresistible charm couldn’t resist the bad guys for long.” The man joked, pathetic smile pulling at chapped lips. Clint gave Tony his best unimpressed look but the flimsy smile didn’t fall. Vaguely, Clint wondered if Tony knew he’d never fallen for any of the facades the other man had ever put on. “Thing is, something like that just doesn’t leave you alone.”

Clint hummed. Turning his gaze from Tony and deciding it was time for him to stare through something. He met his own eyes in the reflection of the dark screen of the T.V and barely restrained his physical flinch, hands clenching tightly into fists where they hung between his legs, toes curling within the confines of his boots. His own gaze became unfocused, blurring the figure perching on the couch in the reflection. Clint almost thought there was a flash of blue.

“Yeah,” He muttered, low and dark and distracted. He heard Tony shift below him and he could practically see the curious expression on the man, eyes glinting with a need to know. Curiosity killed the cat, Bruce would say. Satisfaction brought it back, Stark would shoot back with that certain careless ease he was known for. Forcing himself back into the present, Clint turned to meet Tony’s eyes for the third time that night, “Somethings will haunt you. For the rest of your life, even, but you aren’t going to get better internalizing it.”

The staring started up, again, eyes locked in that same tug-o-war. It seemed gentler this time though. It was more like a battle of who deserved comfort. Who was worthy of both of their attention. Tony’s chocolate irises were glazed over with a wet sheen and the fear had retreated in Clint’s presence. It gave the archer a brutal sense of satisfaction knowing he’d chased away the bad things. They were filled with more of that spark of hope that he’d thought he’d seen earlier. The curiosity had replaced the wariness, a distraction Tony had so clearly welcomed. Clint was sure he didn’t fair much better, his brief eye contact with himself for the second time that day had left him feeling vulnerable and he was certain he was looking at Tony with a fondness and need that usually only Natasha was privy to. He was too relieved not to be alone on a day as bad as this one was turning out to be to not feel the desire to be close to Tony. Tony was a good distraction. He was an attention seeker, even when he wasn’t intentionally screaming “Look at me!” If Clint had to focus on Tony, he didn’t have to focus on himself.

They came to a crossroad in their little battle, breaking away and looking their own separate ways once again. Clint hung his head for a moment, glaring at the fists still clenched between his knees. With one more sigh he stood, watching as Tony looked at him alarmed as if he was going to leave, and proceeded to kick Tony’s legs off the end of the couch.

Tony squawked, offended beyond belief at the assault, but he didn’t fight as Clint lowered himself onto the now available cushion. Tony huffed, pouting the the only way he knew how (meaning: over the top) before he laid his legs over Clint’s lap. It was clear the man expected to be shoved away, but Clint just smirked at him and rested his arms on the man’s shins. Tony sputtered; Clint chuckled. The contact was nice, though, and oddly enough he didn’t feel invaded by Tony’s touch. It was warm and gentle, heavier than Natasha’s comforting hands and larger than her soothingly familiar weight, but it was nice. Maybe he didn’t have to deal with a bad day on his own, maybe he could use someone else on the team as a Plan B for when ‘Tasha was gone. Maybe he had more options.

Tony scoffed, drawing Clint’s attention again, but smirked back after getting over the shock of the assassin’s compliance to his utter ridiculousness.

“Movie?” Clint suggested.

Tony eyed him for another moment, something on his face that Clint didn’t bother to read. It wasn’t scrutinizing and it made the ever-so-distracting curiosity flare. Distraction is what they needed. He could handle a little not knowing.

Another beat of silence.

“Hell yeah.” Tony smiled, snatching the remote off the glass coffee table and turning on the T.V. He winced subtly at the bright light the screen shone directly into his eyes. Clint restrained from laughing, aware the man likely had a nice headache from his hangover and he didn’t want to ruin this moment seeing as he didn’t know if there would ever be another one like it.

“JARVIS, can you dim the T.V brightness?” Clint asked smugly.

“Of course, Agent Barton.” The T.V dimmed accordingly and Tony sagged further into the cushions.

“Thanks, Legolas.” He smirked.

“Anytime, Tin Can.” Clint gave his best smile back.

#Arrowvenger Writes #Clint Barton #Tony Stark #Unedited #Hurt/comfort #Angst #//PTSD #IronHawk #mcu hawkeye #Iron Man #Tags to be got together at some point #MCU #MCU avengers #Avengers #Endgame isn't real

[byuneebuns]

Polarity (Part 1)

Yunhyeong/Hanbin x Female Reader Soulmate AU

Rated: M for Language and Eventual Smut

Tags: Angst, Slow Burn, Smut, Soulmate AU

TW: MENTIONS OF DEATH/S**CIDE (this chapter only)

Author’s Note: HI EVERYONE it’s me the author with a bunch of ongoing works, back again with a new series! I’m sorry that the introduction is so long;;;;; I hope you like it though and as always your feedback is very loved and appreciated! <3

When people think of soulmates it’s always of the star-crossed lovers. Those great romance stories, of perfection and completion, and of happy endings. Of people who’s lives scarcely mattered before they were swept off of their feet in a fated, world-shaking romance. When the soulmate gene mutation started showing up in the next generation of children it was met with the same sensationalism. 

Amazing. Incredible. A blessing from God himself. 

Those sentiments were shared by everyone until the first deaths took the world by storm.

The headlines were as lifeless as the people they were reporting about. No witticisms graced them, only shock. What was seen as a blessing only the day prior was suddenly a calamity.

The story was that a young couple had recently been married. They were happy together, successful, and expecting their first child in only a few short months. The activation of the mutated gene changed everything.

The gene itself manifested as a small counter somewhere on the body that would stop when the alleged love of your life made eye contact with you. To make matters worse, the affected area would also tingle when they were nearby and burn painfully when the deed was done and the numbers came to a halt.

The couple were out to dinner when the wife suddenly gasped, clasping her hand to her stomach. Her husband stood, rushing to her side, concerned for the welfare of their unborn son. A nearby waiter hurried over with a glass of water that shattered before it reached them. The waiter and the woman were facing each other, eyes slightly glossed over, looking as if they’d seen the sun for the first time. They were both wincing; him holding his forearm gingerly, her cradling her stomach. 

Having a fated love appear isn’t so great when you thought you’d already found the love of your life. 

The waiter had begged to be apart of her life, even casually, but she’d refused under the possessive eye of her husband. The woman tried to stay faithful to her husband and eventually fell into a deep depression. 

The story ends with the deaths of all those involved. The husband went mad with jealousy and murdered the waiter, which unbeknownst to him caused his wife an indescribable amount of pain and grief, driving her to take her own life. His soon followed by his own hand.

More stories like that one started cropping up and soon enough they were impossible to ignore.

After lengthy debates it was eventually decided that humans deserved their free will and their freedom. Top scientists and researchers immediately began looking for a way to alleviate the side effects of the soulmate gene, if not eradicate it entirely, and nearly two decades later they’d done it. 

A small injection at birth, just one vaccine among many, was all it took. 

The time counter marks were irreversible, but there was no more more tingling and no more burning. The compulsion was still there, as was the psychic link, but they were severely weakened. 

They were beatable. 

Humans were once again masters of their own romantic destiny.

Year 21xx

You hugged your bag to your chest tightly, your free hand clinging to an empty space on a nearby pole, trying your best to keep your balance on the crowded train. You could feel your hand slipping, your sleeve riding up your forearm while you struggled to maintain the grip your sweaty palm barely had on the cool metal. 

You tried to lean forward, to get closer, but the wall of bodies amassed around the pole wouldn’t budge. You felt your cheeks heat up as your sleeve slowly crept further up. You dropped your arm, pulling your sleeve back down as quickly as you could. Unfortunately the train came screeching to a halt at about the same time, sending you hurling face first into the back of a disgruntled office worker. 

You exited the train car, calling out a final apology to the person you’d nearly bulldozed, and started towards your destination with a heavy sigh. Your breath made little clouds in your face and you shivered at how cold it had gotten while you’d been in transit. You pulled back your sleeve, exposing your bare skin to the cool night air, and your mouth pulled into a tight frown.

Goosebumps covered the inky black numbers but there they were, clear as day under the night sky, still ticking against the thin skin of the inside of your left wrist. You sighed again, shaking your sleeve back into it’s place. You didn’t particularly want to meet your soulmate. Did anyone want to these days? You still couldn’t help glancing at the numbers from time to time regardless to check to see if they’d halted. You’d always felt that having them in such a prominent place was a pain. Most people tried to forget that they were cursed, you see, but you were reminded of it every time that you forgot to put on your watch.

You shook your head gently, strands of hair falling into your eyes in protest, and hunched your shoulders as you trudged through the lamp lit city streets.

You were hit by a wall of heat as the heavy door to your destination swung open.

“Welcome to Polari- oh, it’s just you.”

You stuck your tongue out at the bartender and started peeling off your extra layers of clothing and tossed them on the coat rack. Once sufficiently free of your excess winter attire you took an open stool at the bar. Bobby was already there waiting for you with a vodka soda at the ready. He slid it across the counter and rested his elbows where the glass had been moments ago, his large hands cradling his face as he observed you.

“Rough day? You’re not normally here on days off.” He commented as he watched you sip your cocktail through pursed lips.

“Oh, Bobby, I just couldn’t help myself. I can’t stay away from you.” You simpered, drawing a loud laugh from your companion.

“If only I was so lucky, huh?”

“I got stood up again.” You finally admitted with a roll of your eyes. You knew Bobby better than to think he would leave you alone without an answer.

“You have the worst luck with men. How is it possible for you to chase them away before they’ve even met you.” He laughed, dodging your playful swat with practiced dexterity.

“At this point I’m almost hoping I’ll meet my soulmate. At least I’ll know that someone out there will have to love me.” You pouted dramatically, emphasizing your sarcasm.

He frowned, shaking his head almost apologetically. He opened his mouth to speak, but before the words could leave him the door was being pulled open and a heartfelt greeting was leaving his lips instead.

“Welcome to Pola- Guys!”

A group of men that looked to be around your age were pouring into the entrance one by one. You eyed each of them in turn appraisingly and were pleasantly surprised by how attractive they all were. 

Bobby had abandoned his station behind the bar and was running over to a rather disgruntled looking man with tousled black hair that framed his face well and was shaved on the sides. He had on large aviator frame glasses, ripped jeans, a bright yellow hoodie, and sneakers that looked like they cost more than your car. His eyes were almonds under thick, wide brows, and his face was well-sculpted and indisputably manly. 

Bobby was all sunshine and smiles as he excitedly greeted his friend, but his companion looked as unmoved as ever. The former led the group to the bar top where they took seats near you. You trained your eyes on your glass, unwilling to be caught sizing up a man you’d already determined was quite good looking, when your name called you to attention.

“She’s a bartender here. This is Hanbin. He’s my closest childhood friend.”

The man called Hanbin turned slowly in his seat and examined you with a piercing stare.

“Nice to meet you.” You supplied, trying to keep your voice bright. To your humiliation the man simply quirked an eyebrow at you and turned back to Bobby. Your cheeks colored with embarrassment. 

Bobby just shook his head and shot you an apologetic glance.

“As popular with women as always, I see.” He chuckled, sliding over a glass of clear liquid that you hadn’t seen him pour.

Hanbin merely shrugged his shoulders and sipped the drink in silence.

“He seems like a grumpy old man, but I promise he’s a really great guy once you get to know him.” Bobby supplied, trying as usual to spin things in a positive light.

Tonight you just weren’t having it. You’d been insulted enough by men in one day to last you a lifetime.

You downed the rest of your glass and slid it across the counter to Bobby.

“Who says I want to get to know him?”

You were pleased to see Hanbin’s eyebrows knit together with annoyance, but before he could counterattack you were both startled by the giggles that erupted behind you.

“She’s got a point.”

You spun around in your stool and were suddenly face to face with what appeared to be...an angel. 

In stark contrast to the grumpy man seated to your left, the one at your back was all smiles. His eyes were bright and sparkly, his shapely lips stretched to show a warm, genuine smile that felt like it held the sun itself. He was dressed in a plain black turtleneck over black jeans and boots, pulling off an effortless elegance. His black hair was short and swept over his forehead with an undercut in the back. His face was boyish and yet handsome, and you found yourself smiling back at him without realizing it.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to suffer in his company. I’m Yunhyeong.” 

You scoffed, taking the full glass that you saw Bobby handing to you in your peripherals. 

“Who says I want to get to know you either?”

Yunhyeong looked scandalized.

You were surprised to hear laughter coming from your left. Hanbin’s head was tilted back, his prominent adam’s apple bobbing with every bark of laughter that escaped his pouty lips.

“Yah, don’t bully my friends.I need them to keep coming back here to keep me company when you leave me all by myself.” Bobby whined.

With that, the mood shifted and the room was now alight with warm laughter and banter, most of which was the men teasing Bobby about missing them. You turned away form the man called Yunhyeong and sat in silence, sipping the bitter drink that you always ordered more out of habit than enjoyment. You felt someone brush your thigh as they squeezed into the seat to your right. 

“You can’t really mean that you don’t want to know me?” Yunhyeong was pouting, obviously still stricken by your rejection.

Your cheeks were permanently stained red from the warmth of the liquor. You could feel the effects swirling in your brain, emboldening you.

You’d come here to avoid men (except for Bobby), and yet here they were on all sides. 

You sighed, running a hand through your hair, as you turned to face your persistent companion.

“Why would I want to?” You asked teasingly, tapping your fingers on the bar.

“Well, for one, I’m very good-looking.” He said seriously.

You laughed in earnest this time.

“And apparently I’m pretty funny too.” He finished, smiling sweetly. 

“I’ll give you that; you are pretty funny. I guess the real question then is why does someone that’s so good-looking and funny want to get to know me?”

Yunhyeong smiled again with a devilish glint in his eyes, leaning as close as the distance between your stools would allow.

He was entirely too close now, suffocating all of your senses with his presence. You didn’t even see his hand reach for your face, one strong finger tilting your chin up to face him better. He inspected you closely and you swallowed roughly. It had been so long since you’d been this close to a man, let alone one this handsome, and to say it wasn’t having a physical effect would be a lie.

“You’re beautiful, so why wouldn’t I want to know you?” He murmured, his voice velvety.

You felt your face glow like the sun as you hastily pushed his hand away and turned away from him, finishing the rest of your drink while he laughed.

“How many girls has that worked on?” You asked, praying that your flush was starting to fade.

“At least one more today,” supplied a sarcastic voice from your left.

Hanbin was watching you out of the corner of his eyes with an expression you couldn’t read.

Yunhyeong was faster than you with his retort.

“Ah, Hanbin, are you jealous that I’m paying attention to someone else?” He teased, suddenly raising his voice to address the rest of the people in the room:

“Children! Everyone! Please come and love our cute Hanbinnie that is feeling lonely!”

Without a moment’s notice five men, including Bobby, descended upon Hanbin laughing raucously, hugging him, tugging on his hoodie and trying to tickle him. To your surprise he was no longer disgruntled, but rather was laughing with them and trying to tickle them back.

“What a weird guy.” You said, more to yourself than anyone else. You jumped a little when Yunhyeong answered you.

“Hanbin is definitely a weird guy. He isn’t bad, but he doesn’t always do well when he meets new people. He’s shy.” He said, smiling again.

You raised one eyebrow in disbelief. Shy was not the word you would have chosen. You opened your mouth to quip back but at that moment Hanbin had put Bobby in a headlock and the latter was flailing his arms dangerously close to your drink. You reached out to grab it before it fell victim to the mayhem, and in that moment time stood still. The numbers on your wrist had stopped moving. 

Your breath caught in your throat. You brought your hand down under the shadow of the bar and pulled back your sleeve to confirm you hadn’t been seeing things, but sure enough they’d come to a dead halt. Panic washed over you. One of the men in this room was your soulmate...but who? When had it stopped? 

“Hey, are you okay?” A concerned voice from your right brought you back to the present.

“Yeah, no, I’m...fine. Yeah.” You said, your voice sounding hollow even in your ears. Thankfully the rest of the men were preoccupied with harassing Hanbin so the only person that bore witness to your internalized panic was Yunhyeong.

“I think I should go.” You said, mostly to yourself again. Yunhyeong must have amazing hearing.

“Can I walk you home?” He asked, concern etched into his soft features.

“No, I live close, I’m okay. I’m okay.” You repeated it, as if confirming it for yourself and stood to leave without letting him press the matter.

“See you tomorrow, Bobby!” You called, your voice still colored with the same unnatural tone, as you collected your belongings and all but ran out of the bar. 

Seven pairs of eyes watched you flee; One of them belonged to someone you were destined to fall in love with.

#hanbin smut #yunhyeong smut #ikon smut #b.i smut #b.i imagines #ikon imagines #ikon au #ikon drabbles #hanbin #b.i ikon #song yunhyeong #kim hanbim #yunhyeong ikon #hanbin ikon #song ikon #ikon yoyo #ikon fanfic #hanbin fanfic #yunhyeong fanfic #b.i fanfic #b.i x reader #hanbin x reader #song x reader #yunhyeong x reader #ikon x reader

[kae-karo]

Hi Katie! I hope you don’t mind me ranting in your inbox for a hot sec, but there’s something I’ve been thinking about a lot lately and it’s made me really frustrated. So, about a year and a half ago when I was in my gym class I ended up dislocating my knee, my teacher called the ambulance and the paramedics came and everything and they ended up having to cut my pant leg on my leggings to my knee. This day also happened to be in the middle of winter (1/2)

And I had very much not planned to be dislocating my knee and have my leggings cut up, so I had also very much not shaved the night before. And so I was laying there, my knee out of its socket, in immense pain, surrounded by paramedics, and one of the only things I was thinking about was apologizing to them about my hairy legs...THATS INSANE. And I was mad at myself for thinking it then, but the thought was still there. So ever since then I’ve been working on accepting body hair as something 2/3

And it’s really really hard! But ever since I’ve adopted that mindset, I’ve felt a whole lot better about myself. But anyway, I guess I just wanted to basically say to all my hairy ladies out there, no matter what you decide to do about your hair, ya’ll are beautiful and there is absolutely nothing you should apologize for

hello hello dear!!! oh my gosh first of all i’m so sorry you hurt your knee and had to go through that, but i’m definitely glad it turned into you realizing something you hadn’t realized before! this is 10000% right - there is literally nothing wrong with having body hair (and ofc nothing wrong with wanting to shave it, if you so choose!) and you should totally not feel bad about it! i’m so glad you’re starting to feel that yourself, even though it’s been a struggle - it’s always stupidly hard to unlearn societal ideals that get forced on you from a young age

every now and then, i think of this girl who’d been on my cheer squad in high school, and how she decided she wasn’t gonna shave her legs for 2 weeks (cause she heard it would make your legs smoother if you waited, and she wanted super smooth legs for homecoming - maybe not the right reasoning, but still!) and i remember the absolute judgment she got, not from anyone on our squad, but from the female coach! who was like, maybe in her twenties?? and she was like ‘well we can’t force you to shave but you really need to reconsider how that’s going to look and are you really sure it’s worth looking like that for two weeks’ etc etc and like...first of all, i have to say it was really empowering to have the girl then be like ‘nah i’mma still not shave tho’ and like second of all i hope that coach like.....learned. i hope she, in some way or another, came to the same conclusion that you have - that there’s nothing wrong with body hair!!!!! it’s just hair!!!!! on ur body!!!!! doin its thing!!!!! men have it too!!!!! wow!!!!! like. it’s okay. it’s perfectly normal, and it’s totally chill not to shave it! fuckin societal expectations that like,,,,,,,women have to be smooth everywhere all the time. what bullshit. if u don’t wanna shave u shouldn’t feel bad about it and fuck anyone who tells u that u should

#anon #ask #kt