Tumgik
#i have a very fucked up soft spot for hateful marriages that turn into weird codependent partnerships that just are so delicious
alicuntismswrites · 2 years
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i’ll slither from eden back home to her a mr. & mrs. malcolm neil foxworth story
rating: E word count: 5,184
after burying mrs. steiner, malcolm foxworth leans forward and presses a dry kiss to olivia's mouth.
an au ending for that night.
read on ao3!
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loudsuitlover · 3 years
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Bad mom
A/N: Doctor Harry’s Blurb again. I’m doing different things here and now the narrative is going to change. I feel like writing like this now. Hope you feel like reading like this too! 
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He still holds her close in bed even after eight years of marriage. Who would have thought that he’d be such a cuddler? But then again he couldn’t possibly know for before he wouldn’t want to sleep with anybody else but now, fourteen years later, he gets a shiver if he thinks of not having the shape of her body marked on their mattress. 
She was already asleep when he got home and he would chop his own finger off before he woke her up these days so he checked on the kids, silently, just because he missed their chubby hands and the way they would stink his white shirts every time and how Hughie would say daddy and Dylan would always prefer his mum. They were both fast asleep on their matching beds, one on each far wall of the room and their room was a little messy so a small smile crept onto his lips for he reminds Blue telling him kids are just kids, babe, and they are messy and so is your wife, so you gotta get used to it. 
Baby Ana’s deep breaths soothe his heart as he watches his youngest baby’s cherry mouth opened buried under thick, pink lips just like her mum’s. Harry thinks she looks so much like Blue when she’s asleep but then she’d open her eyes and they would be a light green, just like his, and he never even dreamt about making someone so gorgeous. 
It might look weird from the outside, a man getting home after 16 hours of duty and watching his family sleep one by one but he’s so used to it he doesn’t question it anymore. If he gets home at night, he’d check on his sleeping babies and then he’d undress and get to bed next to his calm. 
She’s wearing one of his t-shirts and has her hands under her chin and looks like a little spoon even if the space behind her as remained unoccupied when she fell asleep. He smiles because that’s his spot and he feels his heart fluttering before he finally feels the soft mattress under his heavy lengs and he rests his head on the pillow, inhaling her scent through her soft natural hair and he gently places a hand on her waist, not wanting to disturb her, but in a second her hand find his and she takes them to her chest so he’s fully holding her. He smiles behind her, he’s not sure whether she’s awake or not, so he just presses a kiss against her cotton covered shoulder and let sleep take over him. 
He doesn’t know how long he’s been asleep for when he hears his youngest whimpering from her nursery but Blue’s already not in bed. Her spot is still warm though. He sinks his head on the pillow and stares at the ceiling only illuminated by the white moonlight coming in through the window and he waits for some minutes but when she doesn’t settle, he gets up and makes his way down the hall and towards his daughter’s nursery. 
His wife is holding her and she’s rocking her and whispering sweet nothings but the little one doesn’t stop crying so he notices, his wife is crying too. 
“Come on, lovie.” Her voice croaks. “I don’t know what you want...” 
Her hand cups her daughter’s cheek as she rocks and shushes her but she wonders why does it seem so hard for them to get along. She’s raised two boys already and even though they were indeed allergic to sleep at some points, she always calmed them down... With Ana though, she doesn’t seem to get it. 
“I don’t know what you want...” She repeats. “You’re not sick.” She whispers. 
Harry places a hand on her shoulder and she flinches scared. 
“Sorry” He whispers. 
She gives him a small smile and shakes her head. He won’t say he likes seeing her crying because he doesn’t, he hates it, but he likes that she’s not afraid to do that in front of him. His hand caress her shoulder warmly and she rests her head on his chest as she keeps rocking the fussy little one. 
“I’m sorry we woke you.” She whispers. “I just... I can’t settle her, Harry.” She cries too. “I don’t know what she needs, I... It took me forever to put her down last night and now...”
Her husband shushes her. He presses a kiss on her forehead and takes the baby from her and her cries become louder so he tells his wife to go back to bed. She needs to get out of there, she needs to stop watching her baby cry like that because it breaks her heart; it breaks her heart to think she might be in pain or hungry or scared and she can’t help her. Her baby girl doesn’t seem to find calmness on the arms of her own mother so she can’t help but feel like a failure. 
She makes her way inside the bathroom and she washes her desperate tears off with warm water before she has a look at herself in the mirror. She looks exhausted and she hasn’t played as much as she’d like with her boys today. She sent Hughie into the playroom earlier, right after dinner, because she just wanted to have a second of quiet and she feels terrible for that. She didn’t really listened to Dylan talking about that book he’s reading either, she pretended she did, but really she was thinking about the groceries she needed to get the following day; and God, she wished she would have listened to him. 
She wishes she was better. She knows they deserver better. All of them. The boys, the baby and her husband. She turns to the side so she can have a look at herself in the mirror. She hasn’t worked out in months and her belly hasn’t looked flat in more than a year and her hair is frizzy and her skin is dry and she has the darkest dark eyes she has ever even seen; and she’s a doctor, so that’s saying a lot. 
Tomorrow will be another day and she can plan everything again and she can have a schedule. She thinks Harry’s day off is tomorrow too so maybe he can take the children to Gemma’s and she can sign up at the gym or she can wake up at five, yeah, and have a run before the day starts. She doesn’t need time to read either, she probably spends too much time reading anyway, and instead she can actually play with her kids. She feels like she never really plays with them. 
She’s tiptoing along the thin line between sleep and reality when the door of their room half-shuts and her husband silently walks in. She doesn’t remember exactly when baby Ana had settled, but she knows it was him who calmed her down. She’s embarrassed but her hazel eyes meet his green ones and he’s giving her a warm smile despite the evident tiresome on his eyes. He’s been at the hospital working for more than 12 hours and she gets home to this... 
He leans closer to her and she wonders how he even has the will to do such a thing when she’s disguting and probably smells of milk, for her breasts still leak sometimes, and is the farthest thing from appealing she can think of. But he stills leans in and captures her dry lips with his on an innocent peck. He looks so good, he’s always had, and that two-days stubble look so good and she wants to cry again. 
“Go back to sleep, m’love.” He whispers. “Baby’s asleep too.” 
Her heart draws in. He put her down, she can’t even manage to calm her down. 
“Do you think I’m a bad mum?” 
Her hazel eyes bore into his and his heart breaks when he realizes she’s seriously waiting for an answer. So she really doesn’t know? She really thinks he might think that? 
“What are you talking about?” He frowns. “Where’s this coming from?” 
She turns her body so she’s facing the ceiling instead and her back is resting against the mattress. 
“Hughie said he liked daddy’s porridge better this morning” she starts “and I didn’t even know what he meant. I thought we did it the exact same way... And then Dylan was so excited telling me about his book and I didn’t pay attention to him” she sobs “and baby Ana, I think she just doesn’t like me.” She shrugs. 
“You’re her Mum.” Harry whispers. “Of course she likes you. She shushes faster with me because she can’t smell the milk but she wouldn’t go a day without you, I know that.” His fingers gather his wife’s tears as he keeps talking. “And Hughie just meant cinnamon because the other day we ran out of honey so I added cinnamon instead and he loved it. I must have forgotten to mentioned it to you. And about Dylan... Dylan tells you every little thing that comes to his mind, it’s normal that sometimes you disconnect, baby.” He chuckles and despite her tears she chuckles along. 
“He’s a very smart boy.” She says. “He thinks a lot and he’s pretty imaginative.” 
“I wonder who he got that from...” He jokes and she smiles at him. 
“I’m sorry.” She confesses. “I’m sorry that you get home to a wife who looks like she doesn’t know where the mirror is and who can’t manage to calm her own freaking baby and who... doesn’t even let you sleep at night with her senseless drama.” She rolls her eyes. 
“Hey” his fingers gently grip her chin and he makes her look into his eyes “I love you” he reassures her “like crazy and every hour I’m just counting how much longer until I get to be with you, okay? So don’t think that. Please. I love you, Blue and I’m so fucking glad and lucky for having you and the family we’ve made together. I wouldn’t change a thing.” 
“Not even my muffin top?” She pinches her belly and he chuckles. 
“Not even. I think your body is perfect.”
“No, you don’t.” She laughs. “I’m chubby.”
He rolls his eyes before he hovers her and pins her against the mattress. His lips smash against hers in an almost teenage way and she feels that same fire on the pit of her stomach, much like she did fourteen years ago and he feels like a hormoned boy, despite his forty-one years of life and he thinks he’ll always feel vulnerable and desperate for her. 
“I thought we were past this, love.” He whispers against her lips. “You’re the sexiest woman on Earth.” 
His hand moves down to her ass and he squeezes her flesh making her smile. 
“And you say you never lie.” 
“That’s right.” He kisses her again. “I don’t.” 
“I love you.” She says against her lips. 
“I love you too.” 
He aligns his hips with hers. His right hand supports his weight on the mattress next to her head while the other squeezes her flesh on her ass and hips. He’s never been able to understand why or how she could ever get insecure and during their time together, it’s true she’s gotten a lot better, but she has still sometimes been insecure about her body and he’s hated every time. 
But they understand each other; they’ve had for years and he’s never stopped wanting to be close to her. Ever. His hand moves down to her belly and he slips his fingers under the hem of her sweatpants and her knickers, feeling how wet she is on his fingertips. 
“Mhm, baby” He hums against her lips. 
“Yeah, embarrasingly wet, I know” she giggles “you’re so hot, H, there’s nothing I can do.” 
He laughs against her mouth. Is that what she really thinks? Well, he attracts female’s attention, he’s not an idiot, he notices that; but he’s getting some grey hairs now too and she’s still six years younger, like she’s always been, and she really is the most beautiful woman he knows. He’s seen his coworkers staring at her and her own students whispering about it when she gets a male one in practice. But somehow, she sleeps in his bed every night and she could leave but she doesn’t so she must feel the same way. 
His fingers thrust inside her and she arches her back and moans. He keeps kissing her and is amazed at how in these moments, it feels like time haven’t passed. She’s the same Blue and he’s the same Harry but they’ve moved in together, they’ve gotten married, they’ve done surgeries together, they’ve had three kids, they’ve bought a house, he’s been sick and she’s taken care of him; she’s been sick and he’s taken care of her; and he wouldn’t change her or anything they have together for anything in the world. 
It’s in these moments too, when Blue doesn’t feel like she has to be better or like she’s not doing enough; she is enough. She’s more than that. She’s what he wants and she’s what she wants too and everything is fine. She’s lucky, she’s so damn lucky for the family she has and for the husband she married and for everything else. 
His fingers speed up and she sinks her head on the pillow so his mouth attacks her neck and she moans louder. 
“Baby, we’re gonna wake Anie up.” 
“Then be quiet.” He whispers on her ear. 
She giggles at that and his teeth skim her skin as he grins but his fingers keep moving in and out of her and he’s touching just that place she loves and she needs him so bad. She loves him and she wants him and she so desperately wants to feel him stretching her like every other time he’s had her before. 
“Baby” she moans “if we wake her up...”
“We won’t.” He whispers. 
“It’s so hard to put her down...”
“Yeah, I know, it really is hard to put this down.” 
She giggles again and he chuckles at his own joke but his fingers keep bringing her to the edge and her nipples are getting harder as she bites her bottom lip. 
“Do you want me to stop?” He smirks, already knowing the answer. 
“No” She gasps “but you should.” 
“There’s something down here that doesn’t agree.”
He chuckles as her walls start throbbing around his fingers and her back arches as she feels her mind leaving her body and strong waves pushing all her stress out of her too. 
Harry smiles and rests his forehead against hers. 
“Better?” 
She nods. 
“Is there anything else I can do for you?” 
She nods again and her hands cup his jaw as she kisses him deeply. He’s a sucker for these kisses, when her tongue pushes inside his mouth and she lets him know how much he means to her. 
“But we might wake Anie up...” He grins. 
“Oh, shut up and fuck me.” 
He laughs. 
He takes her sweatpants and knickers off and she does the same with his white boxers. His hard lenght springs free and hits her wetness and he circles his hips so she can feel him adding pressure on her. His hands grip her waist and she knows he’s seconds away from thrusting inside her so she takes a deep breath and gets ready to take him and like that his manhood slips inside her inch by inch and she throws her head back and sighs.
He pushes in and out of her slowly and her hands stick to his shoulders and his biceps as she pulls him closer. Her soft fingers tangle on his hair and she pulls from it so his mouth covers hers and he bites on her full bottom lip. 
“Is this what you wanted?” He whispers and despite the years, he sounds so sexy to her, he always does when he wants to. 
“Yes.” She gasps. “But I want more.” 
She feels him smiling against her mouth and supporting his weight on her waist, he threads her onto him again harder and faster and her head spins until she’s afraid it might turn molten. She feels her own bowels bouncing inside her and the screams get stuck on her throat as he keeps pushing in and pulling out of her. 
“Don’t stop, Harry, don’t stop.” 
“Fuck.” 
Her low moans mix with his grunts and her hands travel across his skin, almost marking him when he hits the right spot and his hands hold her waist as he pushes inside her. He only feels like this when he’s fucking her and that’s why he’s addicted to her because this is the best feeling in the world, when his heart flutters and he can feel his pulse on his temples and his skin is covered in sweat and goosebumps and he can feel the urge to cum on his spine. He loves her. He loves this woman with everything he has and everything he doesn’t. 
“That’s it, love.” She whispers on his earshell. “Fuck me, I needed this so bad. I fucking love you, H.” 
“Fuck” he grunts “I love you.” 
She holds his shoulders close to her chest and they gasp into each other’s mouths as he keeps pounding inside her. She can feel the weight of overwhelming pleasure falling over her and she can think of nothing other than him and the way he sounds and the way he smells and how he’s touching her inside. Her legs tremble around his hips. 
“Come on, baby” He whispers “Cum for me.” 
He’s close. He’s so fucking close, he’s not sure he can hold it in anymore. Yet he wants to feel her. He knows she needs this but he needs her just as much. 
“Cum with me, baby.” 
She does and she feels his hot, sticky cum filling her and a wide smile draws on her face and she sinks her head on the pillow but he pulls from her chin so he can kiss her and he does it deeply and slowly and she can feel it, how much he loves her, and she just loves him back. 
They don’t say anything else until they fall asleep tangled up on one another. 
The four of them are awake when she wakes up and as she makes her way to the kitchen, she can’t help the little smirk on her face. Harry made sure she could sleep in and that alone warms her heart so walking inside the kitchen and finding her little smurfs sitting on the table helping their daddy make breakfast drives her crazy from love. 
Baby Anie jumps on Harry’s hip and stretches her arms out for her and she feels her heart about to explode with love for the little angel. It seems like they’re back to being friends. Harry gives the baby a look before his eyes meet with hers. They smile, sharing the secret of what happened hours ago in their bed, and she mouths a silent thank you and he mouths back love you. 
She takes the baby from his hip and pecks his lips swiftly and her boys look up from the pancakes and smile at her. 
“Morning, mummy!” Dylan hugs her waist and her fingers caress his dark straight hair as she hugs him close. 
“Morning, dear. Morning, Hughie.” 
“Morning, mummy!” Hughie grins. “We made pancakes!”
“Yeah, they smell awesome! Thank you, boys!”
“And read, read what we wrote on them!” Dylan cheers. 
“Dy wrote it!” Hughie explains with evident proud on his voice and she smiles down at him. 
On the pancakes, on wobbly Nutella 5-years-old boy’s handwriting, can be read “Best mummy ever” and a heart and her eyes get teary because she hasn’t been feeling that lately. She gives Harry a look as if saying don’t do this to me in front of the kids but he just grins and shrugs as if he hadn’t orchestrate the whole thing. 
“I drawed the heart!” Hughie catches her attention and she smiles at him. 
“It’s drew, Hugh” Dylan corrects him “you drew the heart.” 
“Yes, I did.” He smiles. “Chopsy mixed the flour.” 
He had come up with that nickname for his baby sister on his own and his mum had grown to love it, sometimes calling her Chopsy herself. 
“You did such a great job, my lovely.” Her voice almost croaks. 
And Dylan, being the oldest of them three, even if he was just five years old, tilted his neck up so he can look into his mum’s eyes. She gives him a smile but he can somehow see it, even if he doesn’t fully understands, he kind of knows so his small hand rests on top of hers.
“You really are.” He whispers. “The best mummy ever.” 
Her lip trembles and she has to chuckle so she doesn’t freak the little boy out when she wipes her tears away. 
“Thank you, baby.” She kisses his cheeks and his little arm wraps around her shoulder. 
Baby Anie’s hand gently slaps her brother and he shuts his eyes when their mum starts laughing. 
“I love you.”
Blue kisses her boys’ foreheads and they both start eating while she sets Anie on her high chair. Her husband is moving around the kitchen, setting his and his wife’s forks and their cups of coffee, when she presses her hands on his chest and stops him. 
“And you too.” She smiles. “I love you so much.” 
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akemiiiii · 3 years
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Like waves crashing.
[before anything else, i know i only put my art here, but I do write from time to time hehe, so I'm sharing this one with you all, much love! I hope you enjoy it!]
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“What the fuck?”
The first thing that Iwaizumi registers in his sleep-addled mind is that the bed is too soft. It did not feel like the firm mattress he always sleeps on in his apartment.
The second thing he registers is the soft scent of bergamot and pine which reminds him of Oikawa.
Which was definitely weird because Oikawa isn’t anywhere remotely near him at the moment, in fact, he clearly remembers he was 6 thousand miles away.
His eyes open to see a white ceiling, a grey duvet cover, and the king-sized bed he was currently on.
”What the fuck?”
Iwaizumi was thoroughly confused. He doesn’t remember anything that would sufficiently explain where he was.
The last thing he does remember was his sleep-deprived thoughts of missing Tooru because they’d yet to see each other for a year now and a pixelated face on a screen does not count.
And now here he is on a soft mattress that does wonders for his body, a room he does not recognize, and a scent that reminds him so much of his best friend.
“Did I die from missing Tooru so much?” Iwa anxiously gets up from the bed and heads to what he assumes is the cabinet. Right now, the idea of lying half-naked on a stranger’s bed did not seem appealing.
The thought leaves a bitter taste in his mouth for reasons unknown to him. But as Iwaizumi scrambles to open the cabinet, his sight lands on two very conspicuous shirts.
Hanging isolated on the right end of the closet was a black shirt that housed a small Japanese flag right above where a heart would be when worn. Besides the black shirt is a blue jersey, a huge ‘13’ smack right in the middle with an Argentine flag on the corner.
For the 3rd time that day, Iwaizumi curses.
Was Tooru already 1st string on his team? Was he already playing for Argentina? Wait, no, that’d be impossible Tooru would have to be an Argentine citizen for that ti happen.
Thoughts beeline in his brain, too fast for him to process. While Iwa was trying to understand what he was seeing, voices past the door of the room catch his attention.
Iwa stands still, eyes wide, fearing he’d be caught. Any hopes of these people leaving burn to dust as the knob turns slightly.
Then his eyes meet the soft brown burned and buried into his heart.
“Tooru?” Iwaizumi doesn’t take notice of the fact that Oikawa’s taller, bulkier, and more tanned. He was too happy to finally see his best friend after a year of not having him near that he barrels past the unfamiliar room to crush said man into a fierce hug.
“...Iwa-chan?” Oikawa squeaks out
“Tooru! Gods, I missed your stupid face, how are you here? Why are you here?” at this Iwa moves back to glare at the man “You better not have skipped out on your practices dumbass, you know better than to…”
“What the fuck?” The fourth curse surprisingly does not come from Iwaizumi. Well, not from the one who just bear-hugged Oikawa.
Iwa’s eyes move from Oikawa’s wide-blown eyes, past his shoulder, to see his own face staring back at him. A more muscled, more robust, maybe slightly taller version of himself.
Iwa curses for the fifth time.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Wait, wait, wait, you mean to say it is currently 2024?” Iwaizumi asks this supposedly adult Tooru.
“Yeah! We’re like, 30 now, Iwa-chan!” For the most part, Tooru looks extremely amused at what was happening that he couldn’t stop looking back and forth between the younger Iwa and the older.
“Damn, Iwa-chan, look at all the wrinkles you’ve accumulated, I told you all that scowling was gonna stay.” Oikawa chatters on excitedly
“Shut up ‘kawa” On the other hand, Iwa’s older counterpart now looks on calmly, as if this mind-blowing event was a normal part of his everyday life.
“Wait, you said we’re in Japan? And we’re...living together?? What about Argentina? Did you come back to Japan after all? But that wouldn’t explain the jersey…” There was so much Iwa wanted to ask about, but these were his topmost concerns.
“Hmmm, how much am I allowed to say? Will this affect the past? How did you even get here?” Oikawa directs the first 2 questions to the Iwaizumi closer to him (the adult one) and directs the last one to the Iwa sitting in front of them.
“I suppose you can say the condition we’re in now. But not the major ones.” The adult Iwaizumi offers
“But Iwa-chan! How am I supposed to know which ones are ‘major’ ones?!” Oikawa whines out, dramatically air quoting his statement.
The older Iwa heaves a sigh and faces his counterpart, “Yeah, we’re living together, we’re in Japan, as for Argentina, you’ll know in time.”
“...Huh.” Younger Iwa just huffs at that, but living together wasn’t really a big issue, in the back of his mind, Iwa thinks he knew all along that they would end up like that anyway.
Living with your best friend doesn’t really pose any much problem for him, plus he’d get to spend the days with Oikawa at his side and take care of his dumbass, so it’d be a win-win.
Younger Iwa still doesn’t realize why exactly he was very much pleased with the information that he and Oikawa living together was a great thing.
“Wait, I wanna know how old you are though Iwa-chan, you look almost the same as I remember when we were high school, but with major eye-bags.” Oikawa shifts closer, and younger Iwa stares at the freckles prominent on his face, the wide smile, and something in him clicks.
The one difference that he couldn’t pin, the one thing that made him believe that this Tooru really wasn’t his Tooru. This Tooru exuded happiness. Exuded contentedness.
He must’ve stared too long because Oikawa’s clearing of the throat makes snaps him out of whatever he was trying to comprehend.
“..Ah. well you aren’t exactly wrong, its been a year or so after we graduated as seniors. I’m at the end of the 2nd sem of college,” Iwa explains
“Holy fuck, that’d make you 19, ah youth! You’re so young let me pinch your cheeks!” Oikawa doesn’t wait for the go before both hands grab at younger Iwa’s chubby cheeks.
“Ha-ji-me~~ your baby fats are all still here! How wonderful!”
The sudden use of first name leaves Iwa blushing in Oikawa’s hands, panicked eyes seek help from the man beside Oikawa but adult him just laughed at his plight.
“Oi, ‘Kawa stop, he’ll combust.”
“You mean, you’ll combust?” Oikawa turns his head to face his Iwaizumi and wiggles his eyebrows. Younger Iwa doesn’t miss the gleam of affection that passes his eyes, and suddenly he is very aware of the lack of insults these two were trading.
If they were them, in the future, surely they’d have the same amount of banter he and Oikawa have, right? the roughhousing and all that, right?
But the only thing Iwa sees are casual touches here and there.
Like a switch, Iwa realizes a lot of things.
The apartment seemed to only have one master bedroom. In that room was a king-sized bed. With two pillows. The closet seems to house both of their clothes.
Oikawa was leaning into adult Iwa’s space more than the usual Oikawa would have been to younger Iwa.
There was a lot of gentle and almost, Iwa daresay, loving affectionate stares the two in front of him kept having in this hour alone.
And the most glaring, most shocking, most unbelievable thing Iwa has finally, finally noticed: The shining, demanding gleam of two matching rings.
“Are you married?” Iwa blurts out, the need to know suddenly engulfing him in ways he can’t fathom. How? Why? Since when?
The two in front of him exchange glances. And as an answer, both lace their fingers together. It is the older him that speaks softly, “Yeah.”
The word silences him. Once again, thoughts swim in his mind furiously crashing back and forth like waves.
How? Did he actually love Tooru all this time or did he come to fall in love with him? Was it when they were separated??
Why? Was this a need or a want or a what? What exactly could be the reason that they’d end up married???
Since when? When did they fall in love, when did they decide on marriage, when did they realize that the other was the one person they wanted to spend their entire lives with?
Iwa’s mind was a mess, but honestly, he knew every answer. He was probably in love with his best friend. No, not probably. Definitely. He started the moment they met and never stopped.
He loved Tooru. Loved his stupid collection of alien merch, loved the way his eyes lit up when they were on call, loved the way he took the spot next to Iwa as if that was where he was always supposed to be.
Iwaizumi loved and hated the way he was separated from Tooru, because of the space it left and because of the growth it pushed in them.
In the back of his mind, Iwaizumi hoped, wished, and knew that whatever their future may be, he’d always be beside Tooru, even if they were physically apart.
He’d known for years now that his future would have been with Tooru because the only future he pictured himself happy was with Tooru.
Fuck, he was in love with his best friend.
“Holy shit.” Iwa breathes out.
“Yep. Hard to swallow that you’re in love with this ass right?” Older him chuckles out, nudging Oikawa’s shoulder
“Hey! I’m a fine piece of ass. You’re lucky enough you got me!” Oikawa shoves back, the smile evident behind his pouting face.
“I really am.” The casual confidence in which his adult self replies to this is another blow to Iwa.
He fell in love with his best friend.
He gets to live with his best friend.
He gets to marry his best friend.
He gets to spend the rest of his life loving the person who has always made his soul feel alive.
“I love that I’m getting to see firsthand your reaction to realizing you’re in love with me.” Oikawa pinches the younger Iwa’s cheek with his free hand, and all pleasant thoughts of Tooru fly away, getting replaced with irritation at his smug smile.
“Well, knowing me, you have no other option but to fall in love with me Iwa-chan. I mean really, did you really think you’d get rid of me that easily?? My bi realization happened in junior high, you shit!”
Oikawa’s hold on his cheek strengthens, as he forcefully wiggles Iwa’s face right and left. Adult Iwa was apparently finding it amusing.
“Like what the hell! You were up in my room all shirtless in summer when it’s hot! And sweat!! And you had the fucking gall to play wrestle me without even knowing the internal turmoil I was having!”
Oikawa finally lets go of his abused cheeks, it was probably beet red from the amount of force he used to pinch, but also because of the words Oikawa was spewing.
“To be fair, ‘kawa, you liked the play wrestles because you said it gave you a reason to touch the developing muscles I had.” adult Iwa smooths over.
“It was still unfair because up until we were seniors I was literally dropping hints left and right and the entire fuckin’ team knew, and you were still there being the slowest idiot I have ever encountered in my life. Even your parents knew, how slow can you be Iwa-chan?”
Oikawa’s glare was directed at older Iwa, but it could have also been aimed at him from the amount of mortification he had. So that was why Oikawa loved holding hands when going home back then.
“Ah, the sweet taste of knowing the exact moment you realized you love me. Can’t believe it took for you to meet the future us to fucken know. Iwa-chan, you a rare breed.” Oikawa winks at him.
Older Iwa snorts, “Oh my god, never use that phrase again Tooru, what the fuck” He shoves him playfully, while Oikawa just wiggles his eyebrow back at him, prompting older Iwa’s fuller laugh.
And seeing this domestic scene in front of him somehow calms Iwaizumi enough to the point that everything in the world rearranges itself because he has found the answer that settles his very core.
“Ah. Times up.” Older Iwa says, looking straight at him. He dons a secretive smile, and for some reason, Iwa understands that he’s probably going to go back to the past now.
“Wait, last thing, are we happy? together?” Iwa frantically asks. Because no matter how he wants what this future paints, he wants what makes Oikawa happiest the most.
Adult Oikawa moves closer to him, leaving a lingering kiss on his forehead. “Ah, my Iwa-chan, I was never, will never be not happy when I’m with you. Now off you go! Don’t make things too hard for me, ‘kay?”
A last caress is what Iwa feels before he wakes up back in his shitty apartment with clustered notes and dirty laundry. It was currently afternoon, which means Tooru would be lounging in his own bed, probably reading.
Iwaizumi picks up his phone to ring him immediately. It’s answered in less than a minute, and the fluffy cocoon blanket of Tooru is what greets him first, before the scrunched-up nose of his best friend.
“You’re late Iwa-chan! Did you forget about lil’ ol’ me?” He pouts, and even though he was just with Tooru a second ago, he missed this Tooru still.
“Never. Hey Tooru.” The first name surprises Tooru, a blush rising, and before he would’ve just waved that off, but now that Iwa knows what he knows, he can easily see the pleased and happy gleam Tooru feels.
“Hey Hajime. So, how was your day?”
Iwa opens his mouth to tell him what he had just experienced, but adult Oikawa’s last words ring in his mind. It wouldn’t be fun at all if Hajime makes it known that he knows Tooru likes him, and him vice versa would it?
He closes his mouth and hides a grin. Nope. Not fun at all. Guess he’ll let things flow for now and keep Tooru at his feet. Someones gotta have to, right?
“Nothing much, I just woke up late, anyways tell me that gossip you had with your Abuela.”
“Oh yeah!! Iwa-chan you won’t believe what's happened, Juan’s partner got…”
Really, Iwaizumi muses that he should have realized long ago that he can’t imagine anybody else’s voice filling up his days in the future.
[Ok omg, tell me what you think, I know there're probably a lot of errors in grammar, hshshs, i'm still trying to get a hang of writing :D, I really hope you enjoyed reading this !!]
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your-eternal-muse · 4 years
Text
To hold on, To let go.
Heather Bonus Chapter.
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Summery: In which you get to sneak a peek into the life of Dr. Spencer Reid, and one Aaron Hotchner.
Words: 1.7k because I have absolutely no self control
Warnings: Mentions of cheating, light swearing, and the fruition of an opinion of mine that is kinda controversial in the fandom, but I said what I said, and I ain’t backing down from it
A/N: Hi. So, I thought I would have both this chapter and chapter 9 ready to go to post at relatively  the same time, but I was up for 18 hours straight and crashed before I could. I woke up because I was hungry and decided to finish this. That being said, hopefully, I can get chapter 9 up for you guys at some point tomorrow. I’ve just been really tired is all, but I’ll push through because I love this series so much. Anyway, enjoy! Oh, also, I didn’t name this one after a lyric because it didn’t really fit, but its a bonus so its fine.
~~~~~
45% of marriages end in divorce.
Spencer knew this.
He knew the odds of his marriage to Heather ending badly.
He just didn’t think it would be this soon.
He had expected it to be years down the road, when his hair was turning gray and his time at the B.A.U was in the past.  
He hadn’t expected it to fail in mere months.
He expected it to be because of his job, or the fact that no matter how hard Heather tried, she never could quite get him to open up about the demons residing in his head.
Not because she had been cheating on him.
He felt like an idiot.
The signs were all there.
The sudden disappearances, the nervous tics whenever he asked a question she could never quite answer.
What kind of profiler was he if he couldn’t even tell that his wife was cheating on him?
He sat at his desk, alone in the bullpen, the only noise in the room coming from the video playing on his phone before him.
He couldn’t stop playing it, even though it killed him to watch.
He paused and played back the very beginning over and over again, watching her kiss that man in a way he thought was only meant for him.
He felt sick.
Knowing her lips had been on that man's hours before coming home and kissing him.
Knowing they had sex, and than having her come home and beg to be fucked by him.
He started the video again, watching Heather, the way her hands balled into his shirt, the sound of her laugh at the person behind her. 
Then, his eyes start to drift.
He starts it again, this time watching the anger radiate off of y/n.
It was almost palpable.
He couldn’t help the warmth swarm his chest, circling his heart before squeezing tightly.
She was fiery.
The way the words came from her chest, how her shoulders were straight and her chin was raised, filled his stomach with a sense of pride.
When she said she loved him, she meant it.
“I found your letter. I was right about you.”
His eyes shift to the card currently laying on top of the stack of divorce papers laying on his desk.
He knows he should have hidden it better.
Stuffed it in a thick book and placed it on a high shelf, somewhere she never would have thought to look.
He shouldn’t have even kept it.
With his memory, he could read it over and over again in his head, and Heather would be none the wiser.
But there was something about tracing his fingertips over the ink, feeling the indents of her words in the paper.
It was physical evidence, that after all these years of thinking she didn’t feel the same, that he was wrong.
She loves him, as he loves her.
Yes, loves.
Not loved.
Spencer Reid, is in love with y/n y/l/n.
However, he can’t say he doesn’t love Heather.
He had convinced himself that y/n hadn’t felt the same, and had all but given up hope. So when a pretty girl offered her number to him one morning at a coffee shop, he accepted, forcing himself to move on.
And for a while, he believed that he was happy.
But it doesn’t work like that.
There were too many sleepless nights, too many words unsaid that kept him from fully committing to Heather, even if on paper it looked like he worshiped the ground she walked on.
He shouldn’t have proposed.
He had hoped y/n would say something, call him a fool, be selfish and kiss him in the middle of the banquet hall, not caring about what other people thought because it was only them existing at that moment in time.
But she didn’t.
So he did.
It was selfish of him. 
To want another girl, while one who had claimed to love him hung on his arm. 
He shouldn’t have danced with her.
He should have just smiled and thanked her for coming, ignoring the pain registering in her eyes. 
She was intoxicating though. 
And even though it was his wedding, he needed to let her know. 
Let her know that he loved her, and that even if he didn’t have a choice, he would always choose her. 
He would go and catch her without a thought's hesitation.
Last week, he found out she understood.
God, this is a mess.
He rubs his face, resting his chin on his hand as he reads through the papers again. Should he sign them? Should he give themselves another chance? Or should he say fuck it? Heather had her chance, and in the process broke him. He didn’t think it was worth it.
A door above him opens.
“Reid, can I speak with you?”
It wasn’t weird for Hotch to stay late.
It was for Spencer.
But he didn’t want to go home, where Heather would be inevitably waiting to try and plead with him to not go through it, where another fight is waiting to be fought, and going to the one place he truly wanted to, felt wrong. 
It would put y/n in a position he never wants to put her.
So he stayed, and rewatched the video, and reread the papers, until he felt his eyes droop, and his heart rate slow.
Hotch had spent the last few nights watching him.
He could relate to how Spencer was probably feeling, and he wasn’t about to stand back and watch like he did y/n. He was going to help before it got to the extreme.
So Spencer set down the papers, put his phone in his pocket and walked up to meet Hotch in his office. 
When he enters, Hotch motions for him to take a seat.
Spencer sits, curious and kind of anxious about the conversation that was about to be had.
“I just wanted to let you know, that I know what you’re going through. And that I sympathize with what you’re feeling. If you need to take any personal time, any at all, you can.”
The next statement pops out of Spencer's mouth before he can even think.
“You didn’t.”
Hotch doesn’t even blink, not the least bit fazed by the observation.
“I should have. And I wish I did.”
He takes a breath.
“I loved Haley. A part of me still does, and will always love her, even now. But I want you to know that I sympathize with how you feel on more than just the divorce.”
Spencer furrows his brow.
What?
Hotch had wanted to keep this from the team for a very personal reason.
He didn’t want anyone judging him for continuing to love her, even after she hurt him. 
He didn’t want them to hate her after her passing.
He didn’t want Jack to grow up to despise his mother.
“I didn’t realize it at first. I’m sure my line of work didn’t help much. I was gone often, and for long periods of time, during which I have no clue what she did.”
Spencer couldn’t believe what he was hearing. 
Haley cheated on Hotch?
“But when I was home, she was distant. I again blamed it on the rift my job created, which I think is what drove her to do it in the first place.”
Hotch has never really talked about it out loud before now.
Was it bad, that he felt a little relieved, to finally get it out into the air?
“How did you find out?” Spencer's voice was soft, quite. He was afraid that if he spoke too loud, Hotch would back down, stop telling the story.
Hotch takes another deep breath, bringing forth the painful memory.
“It was a rare night where I was home. We had been arguing over an offer I had gotten here. It would have given me a 9-5 schedule, allowed me to be home for dinner and on the weekends, a shorter commute. She wanted me to take it, said it was a no brainer. I told her it was more complicated than that.”
Spencer is leaning forward onto his knees, hanging on to every word.
“We were talking about it, when our landline rang. When I picked it up, no one answered, so I hung up. Not ten seconds after, her cell phone started ringing.”
Why hadn’t Hotch told anyone?
Spencer was beginning to realize they had more in common than he thought.
“But what solidified it for me, was the fear in her eyes. She was petrified. I stared at her as her phone rang, and while she didn’t make a move to grab it, she crossed her arms, subconsciously telling me not to ask.”
He rubs his nose, and looks down at the files on his desk. “I did a little more research after that and found that I was correct.”
He folds his hands in front of him, the words becoming harder to say as he continues. 
“What I’m trying to say, is that even when I loved her, even when I wanted it to work out, it didn’t.”
He was hoping Spencer would understand what he was implying. Hotch knew he was smart. It was getting to do something for himself that was the hard part. 
Spencer’s head felt clear for the first time that week. 
It had helped, hearing Hotch's own experience. 
Hotch fought because he loved Haley, and he wanted to hang on to that as long as he could.
Spencer couldn’t wait to let go. That was the difference between the similarities.
Spencer nods, moving to stand up, his mind picking up speed as he did. 
“If you ever need to talk about anything, and I mean anything, Spencer, please don’t hesitate to call me.”
A small smile graces Spencer’s lips. “I won’t.” He walks towards the door before pausing, and turning back around. “And Hotch,”
Hotch looks up from his paperwork.
“Thank you.”
Hotch smiles, soft and rare. “You’re welcome.”
Spencer makes his way back to his desk, sitting down, picking up the papers once again, digging a pen out of his satchel.
He flips through the papers, finding where x marks the spot.
He signs his name.
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feverinfeveroutfic · 3 years
Text
chapter eleven: the end of the world
The next morning was a cold, gray, and soggy one, but Sam had no intention on returning to Louie's apartment for another round that day: she had already packed her things in the back seat and she nestled down in the front seat with her arms folded across her chest and the lapels of her jacket pulled up to her ears. She had no hood or something to cover her head but she wished for one. She didn't want to be seen. Louie himself meanwhile, locked the door behind him and he headed down the steps. She looked on at him as he rounded the front end of the car and opened the door. She sighed through her nose as he climbed into the front seat.
“You okay?” he asked her in a low voice, and she nodded her head.
“Look—I was thinking about this last night before I fell asleep, too,” he started, “neither of us mean to inflame or kick up any old wounds with anyone. We're just—fooling around, messing around, you know?”
She gazed out the window right as he said that. She had nothing to say to that.
“If either of us made you uncomfortable—and I can tell we did—we didn't mean to. I didn't mean to, and I know Alex didn't mean to, either. And for that, I want to personally apologize to you for it.”
Sam never moved from her spot in the seat next to him. She couldn't hardly stop thinking about any of what went down the night before, such that it almost brought a tear to her eye.
“Also—I, uh—” he stammered and then he cleared his throat, “—hate to tell you this, but I'm kinda out of money.”
She turned her attention over to him and frowned.
“What do you mean you're out of money?” she demanded.
“I'm out of money,” he repeated, “well, for now anyway. Remember what I said yesterday, I had enough for breakfast and a cab?”
“Oh, right, right.” She hesitated. “So what's this mean?”
“Well, I have a full tank of fuel to start with,” he stated, to which she frowned and scoffed at that.
“Louie, we're not driving back to Elsinore from here—it's too far.” She was scorn.
“But the train already left, though,” he pointed out. “It's kind of overkill to fly on down to Elsinore, too.”
She sighed through her nose again.
“Don't really feel like driving through the valley, either,” he added.
“Yeah, it's boring as hell,” she said in a soft voice.
“Boring as hell and still hot as fuck, too,” he said, “at least here we have a bit of leeway with the San Francisco fog. Seven hours of nothin'.” He paused for a second. “We could take the coast.”
“That's longer, though,” she pointed out.
“Nicer, though,” he insisted.
“True. It's way nicer, actually.”
“Bet you've missed the Pacific Coast, too,” he said.
“I have—it's one of the many things I haven't been able to do like at all. Especially when I was growing up out here.”
“Really?” Louie was genuinely taken aback by that.
“Yeah.”
“Well, let's—” He set his hand on the ignition key and turned it. “Let's.”
Sam strapped herself in and Louie shook his head of hair about a bit.
“One thing I really wanted to do with Zelda,” he started again as he pulled on the parking lever, “when we were together was go on a road trip with her somewhere. I always considered driving from Providence down to some place like D.C., or go all the way down to like West Virginia. The two of us on a trip together and just hanging out together.”
“What kept you from doing it?” she asked him.
“Touring and making albums—and dealing with record company horse shit in her case—and in my case it was living a double life. There was no way I could do it, not with my other life in full swing.”
They pulled ahead and began up the block, around the cemetery and towards the block on the other side.
“So—I haven't really taken the Pacific Coast Highway much from my place so just kind of—like—bear with me here,” he sputtered.
“It's okay, it's okay.”
Louie glanced over at her at one point as they rolled up to a stoplight.
“You know—and I'm being perfectly honest with you here, Sam—I'm a little intimidated by you,” he confessed.
“You?” she asked him.
“Yeah.”
“Why?”
“I dunno,” he replied with a shake of his head, “but there's just something about you that completely intimidates me. Like it's hard for me to maintain composure when I'm near you.”
“There's no reason to be, though,” she promised him.
“But I feel it anyways, though. It could be because you made a bold move in moving across the country and back again, but I can't really say for sure.”
“Funny you say that 'cause you did that,” she pointed out.
“True. But see, you weren't living a double life like I was.”
“I mean, I kinda am now,” she assured him.
“How so?”
“Joey doesn't know about Bill. He also doesn't know that I'm hanging out with you guys, either. For the record, Bill doesn't know that I'm hanging out with you guys, either. It's like a triangle of sorts with me come to think of it.”
“A delta,” said Louie.
“A delta?”
“Yeah. You know the Greek letter delta?”
“Oh, yeah, yeah!”
“Apparently in the realm of science, it's symbolic of change. Like change in temperature or heat.”
“How do you know that?”
“I dunno if she's shown you this but Morgan—you know, Morgan from the Cherry Suicides—has this old chemistry textbook back at her place. She found it in the garbage believe it or not.”
“Something wrong about that,” Sam declared.
“Oh, yeah. Unless it's actually trash, books do not belong in the trash. But yeah, she found it and I just happened to prop it open one day, and I read a tidbit in a chapter about equations at one point.”
“Huh. Bill has a bunch of old books at his place—mostly old literature, but it's worth a peek, though. I keep meaning to crack them open but I'm not sure where to begin.”
The light turned green and Louie lunged ahead on the street. The clouds hung even lower over them as he merged lanes and they headed for the 880 Freeway. To the right of them was the stretch of gray waters that made up the very Bay itself.
“If you ever come back up here this way,” he started again, “you know you're in a car on the P.C.H., you've got to cross the Golden Gate Bridge at some point. There's just—something majestic about it, even if you've lived here your whole life like the five of us. Well, four of us, anyway, unless Chuck was telling a fib about where he was born. This will take us right by Santa Clara and down to the interchange in San Jose, which'll in turn take us all the way down the coastline to the City of Angels.”
Sam nodded her head and she peered out the windshield to the gray overhead. To think that the assumption with the California coast was all bright sunshine and infinite beaches: it made her laugh the more in which she thought about it.
“What's even the deal with him, anyway?” Louie asked her out of the blue.
“Who, Bill?” She looked over at him with her eyebrows knitted together and he took a glimpse over at her.
“Yeah.”
“Well,” she began, “I mean, you were sitting right there when I called Chuck and told him what was going on.”
“Pff, how could I forget? But what I'm asking is—is there like a time limit with him? Like you signed a marriage contract plus a prenup but surely someone over at the school has to figure that out at some point because it's totally illegal. Setting you up like that and forcing you into something that you had no desire to get into and then threatening a whole bunch of bullshit with you like locking you in your room and forbidding you from going out and visiting people.”
“Well, when I first came out here and I spoke to Marla over the phone—you know, she's been trying to get a job and she finally did with Belinda up in Albany. But she went to the school and she told them that he was still on the payroll. He got fired, Louie, but there was some weird glitch of some sort so he still got paid and he got paid a lot of money, too. So he was able to afford that large house and care for his daughters, such that he enlisted them in a private school.”
“So he loses his paycheck, he's fucked, basically,” he followed along.
“Yeah. Unless he got something to help him out when we weren't looking, he's probably got to pull the girls out of school and sell the house.”
“And what happens to you if and when that happens?” he asked her.
“I—” She froze. Louie glanced over at her with his eyebrows raised. “I—don't know. Oh, wait!” She snapped her fingers.
“What's that?”
“My mom's moving down to the Southland soon. Where exactly is another question, though. She might be going out to Catalina or she might be going to San Pedro, I dunno.”
“Or you can go back to Joey,” he pointed out. “You know, make things easier on your mom. It's another cross country, for sure, but I feel it'd be more beneficial to take that risk again and go with him rather than put extra pressure on your mom like that. But that's my opinion, though. You do whatever you want.”
“There should be a way to null it, too,” she added.
“Yeah, being in a car with another dude,” he joked, and that brought a laugh out of her.
Within time, signs for the interchange came into their view and Louie took the next exit which looped around and met up with the Pacific Coast Highway. Right as they matched up with the pavement, the clouds over them swirled about like the old feathers or the wisps of paint mixed into the wash for a watercolor project. She looked out to the low hills off to the right, all of them different shades of green and yellow. All of them still that rich green despite the late summer. All of them still rich dark green despite the yellow dead grass everywhere. The clouds overhead beckoned rain but at the same time waned away from the coast line.
Such a strange position to be in as was the state of California, but that pocket there, the hills that followed her and Louie all along the highway on that lengthy seven hour drive, reminded her of that special place.
The quiet place. The spot that she and Charlie had found together and the place where she and Joey visited during their final days together.
“This is almost like the precious part of California,” she noted aloud.
“Nah, the eastern Sierra is the precious part of California in my opinion,” he said. “There's something lonely and ancient about the eastern Sierra Nevadas.”
“This whole area here reminds me of a place that Charlie and I found together when they were making the Stormtroopers of Death album,” she followed up.
“Really?”
“It was like this little nook in the trees down the street from the studio,” she explained as she returned her attention to him. “We called it 'the quiet place' because you go in there and it's like completely untouched in comparison to everything else. You walk down the street and you have to duck underneath the trees as you're going in there.”
“Sounds like something you keep a secret,” he remarked.
“I told Joey about it, though,” she told him. “I imagine upstate being covered in places like that.”
“Places you go to that no one else knows about,” he followed along. “This part of California and the eastern Sierra is like that, too. Lots of nooks and crannies and what have you. Like there's a place outside of Salinas—I'll have to show it to you when we get there. It's closer to Monterey Bay, though, which means we'll have to leave this highway, though.”
“It's okay—it'll get us over to the ocean.”
“The ocean makes everything better,” he remarked.
The highway took them down past Morgan Hill and then Gilroy: at one point the road turned towards Monterey Bay; off in the distance loomed those cold dark gray waters that seemed to stretch on forever. The view enlarged as they came closer and closer to the next turn off and the 156: Louie told her it would take them to Highway 1, which would in turn take them to the place he had in mind. At that point, the clouds increased and everything grew dark despite it being almost ten o'clock in the morning.
“While we're over here, you don't mind spending a little money for breakfast, do you?” he asked her at one point.
“Not at all. I was just gonna ask you if you're hungry at all.”
He showed her a grin in response, and then he pointed out the windshield to the next sign up ahead: the town of Castroville as well as the turn off to Highway 1.
“So anyway, this place—it's over by the Salinas River, which eventually heads out to the ocean,” he explained. “When I first met Zelda, and I was waffling on if I wanted to go with her or stay with my concurrent girlfriend and our baby, I always came here. It always helped me clear my head to drive down here when the baby fell asleep and Zelda was back in Rhode Island. I remember staying down here for a full afternoon once. Like I didn't get back home until well after the sun went down. Needless to say, I almost got in trouble for that.”
She laughed at that, and he gave his long smooth hair a little toss back from his face and the side of his neck.
“And the highway will take us all the way down the coastline, too. Take us down to Big Sur and all around the coast, all the way down to San Simeon and Cambria, and then Morro Bay, and then that'll take us over to San Luis Obispo and that's where we meet up with 101 again.”
“And that'll take us all the way back to L.A., too.”
He nodded his head at that, and then Sam cleared her throat.
“I don't think I get Alex,” she confessed.
“A lot of people don't,” he assured her with a straight face.
“It's funny, he said the exact same thing to me,” she recalled. “Word for word.”
“Well, because it's true! A lot of people don't get Alex. That kid is a bundle of contradictions, many of which are not for the faint of heart. I've only known him for a few years but can confirm that, though. And what's mind blowing to me is he's completely aware of it, too. I remember the first time I got into an in-depth conversation with him a few years ago when Testament first formed and we were still Legacy. Sam, I never had such a worse headache.”
“Well, like. For example, when we were in Germany and he and I spent a whole day together—”
“And he missed the train?” he finished for her. “Chuck told me.”
“Yeah, he missed the train and he got upset with me when I tried to grab his attention and get him to come onboard. Then the fireball happened and he realized the error of his ways and we patched it up. And then, you know last night, he opened up the wound over Cliff with me.”
“The fireball happened and what exactly did he do there?”
“I put my arms around him and held him close to me,” she explained. “Wept like a baby right into my chest.”
“He probably liked to feel your chest,” he pointed out.
“What makes you think that?”
“Sam—he's nineteen, soon to be twenty. When I was nineteen, that was all I ever thought about were touching and feeling boobs and clits. We're horny bastards at that age, and I would imagine that he is especially, too. Alex is bit of a nerd—it's the whole thing about how girls don't really talk to nerds.”
“But he's a guitar player, though. I would imagine the girls getting all hot and bothered to guitar players.”
“Not Alex and not our crowds, no. He's like the thinking man's guitarist. I'm sure you've seen him before a television.”
“Oh, yeah, he's all over news reports whenever they come on. Well, I was with you guys in Boston and he and Greg were right before the TV in the room there.”
“Oh, yeah, that's right! But still—at the end of the day, even with his large brain and social scientist parents, he's still a guy. And he probably wanted to feel something soft and warm and comfy.” Louie glimpsed over at her. “You said he was scared, right?”
“Yeah. It was right when that big fireball went up. He just—came over to me and burst into tears at the sight of it. I held him so close to me and I let him weep into my chest.”
“Well—if you see him next time, really pay attention to his behavior towards you,” he advised her. “If he's actually sincere with you, then it's probably because he's confused and his inexperience is showing. If not, like if he gets close to you again, then don't bother with him for a second longer.”
“What do you mean?”
“What I'm saying is he either wants you for you or he's using you,” he explained. “I wish I could tell you more about it, but I'm not Alex, though. I can only tell you what I know from being in between two women for a couple of years.” He shook his hair again and then raked his fingers through one side: outside, the signs for Castroville emerged from the scraggly shrubs on either side of the road.
“I imagine him being soft and sweet, though,” he confessed in a low voice, such that it took her aback to hear that.
“Is—there something about him that you see with him?” she sputtered out as she took a glimpse over at him with a bewildered look on her face. Louie bowed his head and cleared his throat.
“Let me ask you a question,” he said as he leaned his head closer to her.
“Okay.”
“Does it bother you at all—” She could tell that he chose his words with care. “—when a guy finds another guy attractive and it's obvious he's not gay at all?”
She opened her mouth to say something to that, but no sound came out.
“Take as much time as you need to answer that, too,” he assured her, “—I asked Zelda this once and she really had to think about it.”
She thought of all the times that she made art while in class, and she thought of the time that she drew Marla in her journal. It wasn't until she really got to know Marla as well as Belinda when she began to see them as a couple of beautiful women. Indeed, as she thought about their willingness to help her out even while she had posted up out on the West Coast, the more she wondered if the whole thing extended further than their smooth New Yorker skin. Further than Marla's colorful hair and further than Belinda's soft doll like features. There was something more to Alex, much like there was something more to Louie in the seat there next to her, and there had to be something more to herself as well. More to them all, and the fact that she and Louie both had a quiet place, a place where they went that fell on blind eyes, was enough to give her a clue.
The hidden spots and everything in between. It was only the beginning.
And thus it only made sense to her to realize that it resided with everyone, including Alex himself.
“No,” she replied after a long while. “No, it doesn't bother me at all.”
“Okay,” Louie proclaimed as they rolled into Castroville. “Sometimes I look at Alex and I think, 'god, he's a really beautiful boy. I imagine being the perfect cuddler, like he must be adept to snuggling and feeling soft underneath a bunch of blankets.' Not necessarily sexy, although he does have a nice chest and thighs.”
“Nice arms, too,” she said in a soft voice.
“Yeah, he's got those really lanky strong guitar player arms.”
“Hey, you've got nice arms, too, Lewis,” she declared.
“Drummer arms.” He shook his right elbow about: his muscles were tight and sinewy.
“Reminds me of Joey's arms,” she said.
“Oh, yeah, that's right! He's a drummer, too.”
“Drummer and a hockey player.”
Louie took the first exit off into that small town and Sam volunteered to buy the both of them cups of coffee and a couple of scones for themselves: she took a chocolate one where he took a peach one for himself.
Within time, they climbed back into the car and Louie guided her over to the spot in question, right down by the Salinas River and where it widened out before it reached the ocean in small narrow fashion. It was there that the shades of yellow that followed them out of the Bay Area returned to that rich dark green that reminded her of New York. The space in the forest outside of the studio where she and Charlie ventured to together, and then she and Joey visited under a blanket of pure white snow.
“We all have a quiet place,” she declared.
“We really do,” Louie said as he sipped on his coffee.
“We all have a house and a home, even if it isn't physical,” she said.
“Yeah, we all have an attic. We all have secrets. We all have things that we show to everyone.”
“We all have things that we've buried—skeletons in the closet,” she muttered.
“And we all have a quiet place,” he added with a raise of his eyebrows.
He took the next right turn, one that brought them down the Salinas River and away from civilization. All the while, the ponderosa pines stretched high up into the sky around them, all up into those low dark swirling clouds that enveloped them in a blanket of coziness. Soon, the pavement gave way to gravel and broken pieces of pavement itself; and every so often, Sam spotted a series of shrubs all over the places, shrubs with little light pink and pearly white flowers.
“The rhododendrons are still in bloom I see,” Louie remarked.
“I don't think I've actually seen those before,” she confessed; the whole scenery made her think of the hole in the wall back in Ithaca. “They only grow here on the coast and in northern Nevada, we have all manner of pines and trees but nothing like this, though. Nothing as delicate and fluffy as those, though.”
“You guys get oleanders down in the Southland. I've seen those a number of times, they're quite lovely.”
“Oh, yeah. Only drawback with oleanders is they grow like weeds down there. Which is absolutely amazing to me because they're very poisonous.”
“At least it's not strychnine,” he told her. “Strychnine or—better yet deadly nightshade.” And Joey entered her mind right as that final word left his lips. “I don't even know if strychnine grows out here,” he continued.
“Yeah, I don't know, either...” Her voice trailed off at that. She thought about Joey and what he was doing right at that moment. They were still touring over in Europe and they were about to drop their brand new album in the meantime as well. If nothing else when she got back to Lake Elsinore, she had to pick up a copy of that.
She would have to search about for that familiar lettering: she knew it when she saw it.
“There should be a garden somewhere,” he continued, “one full of poison plants.”
“The most dangerous garden in the world,” she declared.
“We should literally call it that.”
“'We'?”
“'They', I should say,” he corrected himself; before them, the little road led to that wide part of the river. Big lush ponderosas as well as oak trees with large wide green leaves the size of dinner plates and tall narrow trees with high canopies surrounded them.
“I was just gonna say—do you really wanna go there, Louie?”
“Unless you wanna.” He tugged on the parking lever and switched off the car. “I ain't gonna do it unless you want to do it.”
“We gotta be careful, though,” she pointed out.
“Oh, absolutely. That's something that's just not for the faint of heart. The quintessential declaration of 'you can look but don't touch'. Might wanna throw in a 'for the love of god' in there, too. 'You can look but for the love of god, do not touch.'”
“'Welcome to Shelley and Clemente's poison garden,'” she declared with a gesture of her hand, “the most dangerous garden on Earth. We've got everything from strychnine to belladonna to oleanders to—whatever else we can find. Have it all together under one umbrella. You and me—we could retire off the profits.”
“You think people would actually pay money to see that?” he asked her, stunned.
“Yeah. People pay money to see the weirdest shit, Louie.”
“Case in point!” He gestured to himself.
“You guys aren't weird,” she assured him.
“Yes, we are. We're as weird as weird can possibly be.” He sipped on his coffee a bit more and then he unbuckled his seat belt. “Anyways, this is where I come to clear my head. I call this place 'the end of the world' 'cause it's far removed away from anything. It's only ten miles back to Castroville but—still.”
They both climbed out of there in unison; Sam peered up to the gray sky overhead and she took in the smell of the salt as it filtered in through the trees before them. The Salinas River flowed right next to the small stretch of gravel and partially collapsed pavement.
“This is like the perfect place for a poison garden,” she told him as he led her to the soft dark river bank.
“Oh, yeah, this lush soil here. Look up the plants and see what kind of environment they thrive in.”
“I do know oleanders like heat,” she told him, “it's why they're everywhere in the L.A. area and in the south, too.”
“Have a special greenhouse for those guys,” he continued as he held his cup of coffee close to his chest. “Kinda clean up the pavement behind us a bit so—Skolnick can drive around on it on his—golf—cart.”
“Shelley and Clemente's poison garden—featuring Alex Skolnick's golf cart.” She laughed at that and he laughed with her.
“Can you imagine Alex on a golf cart?” he asked her, and then he held out his arms, “'oh! Oh god! Oh god here we go!'” And he lowered his voice to where he almost matched Alex's tone.
“Four wheelin' on a golf cart,” she laughed some more.
“Hey, Alex! Take it easy, little man!” Louie lowered his voice to a near whisper. “There's stuff in here that'll kill you faster than you can say your middle name!” He shook his head and chuckled some more, and then he took another sip of his coffee.
“So what's the quiet place like?” he asked her as they neared the river's edge.
“In upstate?”
“Yeah.”
“It's about like this, without the river, of course. There was another spot that Joey and I went to when Stormtroopers were in Ithaca a few summers ago—right by the water's edge at the one lake—one of the Finger Lakes that's there. It kind of reminds me of that, like I'm getting the same feeling as that.”
They stopped at the water's edge and Sam leaned out a little bit for a view beyond the trees. The stretch of rich black and gray that was the Pacific Ocean, a mere stone's throw up ahead of them. Even though Louie had a different opinion, Sam couldn't help but feel that there was something prehistoric about this part of the river; something precious and untouched.
“Sometimes, when it's a bit sunnier out,” he started again, “I'll kneel down to the waters here and search around for insects and rocks and stuff. There's a lot of bizarre life here that's endemic only to this part of the river and as far as I know, the whole state.”
“Kind of like a 'keep it forever' sort of thing,” she noted.
“Exactly, right. Keep this whole place hidden away from the world so as to protect it from everything and everyone. Eastern Sierra is the same way. Exact same way.” He sipped on his coffee once again.
“C'mon, I think it's gonna rain—I feel it.”
They returned to the car and sure enough, as Louie fired it up again and they made a turn back at the dead end and proceeded back up the pavement, the first large drops of rain pattered on the roof and the windshield. It would be some time before they reached the Highway 1 once again, but once they did, Sam wondered as to how far they could go without seeing another sliver of civilization between Monterey Bay and the next spot on the coast.
To the left of them stood the high sea cliffs in all their withered and eroded glory, strong and high over their heads, much stronger and higher than the buildings back in New York City or Los Angeles or even San Francisco itself. To the right stood the ocean: the gray and black waters that went on forever into the horizon. Empty and cold, and cradled by the clouds over them. Everything gray and black.
Every so often, Sam peered down to the waves down below as they crashed on the rocks. She looked to the left once again: every so often in the cliffs, a minute ponderosa jutted out from the cracks as if it gasped for the fresh oceanic air. The coast line seemed to stretch on for infinity before them. She glanced over at Louie and the serene expression on his face.
He was her drummer in that moment.
She turned her attention back out to the ocean beyond them as they went around a corner. Maybe it was the lack of anything discernible on the cliffs or the fact that the ocean appearead so endless beyond them, but something about all of this made her squirm in her seat.
Louie's occasional peers down to the gages behind the steering wheel didn't help, either.
An eternity in such a small pocket of the coastline. They really were at the end of the world.
A sign emerged on the side of the road but she had no idea what it read.
“We probably should've stopped for gas in Castroville,” he told her at one point.
“Why, are we low?” she asked him as her heart skipped a beat.
“Sorta. I hope. I don't really know the economy on this thing—I don't really pay attention to that sort of thing.”
They rounded another corner and Louie drummed his fingers on the steering wheel: that time they had a full view of the ocean. The grand view of the waves as they welcomed her to the end of the world, and they were about to run out of gas as far as she knew right then.
Another sign emerged from behind the guard rail and that time she saw that they were ten miles from the central part of the coast.
“Mother fucker!” he spat under his breath.
“It's okay—we're almost to San Simeon,” she told him.
“Yeah, I know—I'm still kicking myself, though. We'll probably gonna coast there the rate we're going at right at the moment.”
“Seriously?” she demanded, shocked.
“Yeah!”
She closed her eyes and she thought of Joey over in Europe. The only thing that seemed worse than losing Cliff to a bus accident that was far beyond her control was her being stranded on the Central California coast and not being able to tell anyone. But then again, they were close to the next piece of civilization.
“As long as we don't drive into the ocean, I think we'll be fine,” she told him.
“We don't drive into a—poison garden,” he muttered as they went around yet another bend in the road: the cliffs soon began to lower away to the sight of more ponderosas and scraggly shrubs.
“There's no poison gardens here,” she assured him.
“You sure? 'Cause like—there's a bend here—and another here—it's like this.”
They rounded a corner as it wound around the coastline: the road dipped inward into a gentle curve and they doubled back to the next crevice in the landscape.
“Sit—” He pointed to the left. “—down—” He pointed to the right. “—sit—down—sit—down—poison garden.” He pointed straight ahead at that last part and she chuckled at that.
Sure enough, the car sputtered a bit right outside of San Simeon: Hearst Castle rose up off in the distance but they had no time to visit right at that moment.
“Told ya we'd have to coast,” he told her as he guided the car to the gas station right there at the edge of town. The engine sputtered again and died right as they coasted into the first spot near the driveway. He let out a low whistle and leaned back in his seat.
“That was close,” she remarked.
“Yeah, I'll say,” he breathed, and then he turned his attention to her. “A twenty'll get us to the heart of Lost Angles and it'll get me up the Grapevine and into the Central Valley.”
“You're not gonna hang out there with me?”
“I can't,” he told her. “We're supposed to make a new album ourselves.”
“Oh, yeah, that's right!” She handed him a twenty dollar bill, followed by another which would ensure him a ride back home to the Bay Area.
Once they were filled up, they returned to the road.
“I don't know if Hearst Castle is even open,” Louie confessed.
“I don't, either. It's getting kind of late in the day, too.”
“Yeah, exactly!”
Some more coastline and they found their way down into Solvang and then San Luis Obispo where they were met with the Pacific Coast Highway yet again, and they moved away from the end of the world. So much that she wanted to show to Joey. And so much that she wished Cliff could see again, especially that one stretch of the highway where everything felt so finite and endless at the same time.
They wound their way through the low foothills and yet another unknown pocket of California, until they skirted the outside of Santa Barbara followed by Carpinteria.
The waves down below thrashed even more as they wound along the cliffs towards Ventura. At that point, the sky began to darken with the setting sun on the other side of the blanket of clouds overhead.
“Part of me wants to go down to the beaches here,” Louie confessed to her. “Like—take a walk on one of the beaches here. Yet another thing I wanted to do with Zelda when we were together.”
“We don't have towels, though,” she pointed out.
“And it's cold, too!”
“Right!”
The highway led them into Camarillo and then the heart of Los Angeles, where it ended and became the 210. At that point, night was about to fall over them, and the feeling of dread washed over Sam herself. She knew that Bill would be furious by the mere sight of her walking through that front door without any sort of explanation.
Louie drove them down to Corona and then the hills which cradled Lake Elsinore away from the rest of the region. The clouds had finally dissipated and gave way to a violet and orange sky overhead. Such a great length of time to be in that car with him and a part of her wished they had more time.
More time together. More time to relish over the idea of the poison garden.
But that time was all they had right then and there, much like that stretch of highway that overlooked the ocean.
She guided him to the house by the lake and within time, she recognized the neighborhood in question.
He pulled up to the curb and she sighed through her nose at the realization. Her head spun a bit from having driven such a great distance but at least they could come to a stop on a steady piece of ground. She looked on at the house, with its windows dark and the shades pulled despite the fact that it wasn't that late in the evening.
“Do you need any help?” he offered her, to which she shook her head. Instead, she sighed through her nose again and she climbed out to fetch her things out of the back seat. She decided to give her mother a ring later that night when Bill and the girls had gone to bed, that is if they already did. She hoisted her overnight bag over her shoulder and she held her purse close to her body as she reached the driver's side window. He rolled it down so she could speak to him one last time.
“Louie?”
He leaned closer to the window with his eyebrows raised.
“Thank you,” she said to him in a soft voice, and he showed her a sweet smile.
“It's my pleasure,” he told her with a wink. “Poison garden.”
“Poison garden,” she echoed him with a smile on her face.
“Also—”
She stopped and he gestured for her to come on closer to him.
“Don't worry, I'll—I'll talk to him,” he vowed to her.
“Who?”
“You know. The little man.”
“Oh, him!” She stopped right in her tracks. “What for?”
“Just to see if he's alright. One thing I've noticed about him when he fucks up something—he's real hard on himself. So if it's kinda messed between the two of you, I'll check in on him. I'll check in on him anyways.”
“Good plan,” she told him. “You be safe going back up, alright?”
“You be safe, too. Poison garden!”
Sam stepped away from the car and she turned back to the house, still in one place. Louie drove away right then and he disappeared around the corner. Another seven hours and he'd be back up there. She returned to the front door of the house and she opened it with ease. Silence.
She knew that he wouldn't do it. Sam shook her head and she bowed upstairs to her room.
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muertawrites · 4 years
Text
Two Halves - Chapter Ten (Zuko x Reader)
Part Nine
Word Count: 2,750
Author’s Note: We’ve had enough sad. Like, in general. So I wrote some happy for this week’s update. This chapter was originally going to be longer, but I decided to save the rest of it for next week since it ended pretty nicely where it is.
I feel like now is a good time to mention that I haven’t read the comics (I didn’t even know there were comics until like two months ago) so if you’ve been wondering why this story diverges so much from them, that’s why. I see the canon and I think it’s great, but it’s just so much more fun to write my own interpretations of what happened to everybody after the war. Sorry not sorry. 
I’m slowly getting back into the swing of things. I felt pretty okay yesterday, and I’m starting to not immediately hate everything I produce and am remembering how to talk myself up again after forgetting that anxiety and depression don’t rule my thoughts when it comes to my creativity. Things are still gonna be weird for a while, but we’ll be fine eventually. That’s how the human condition is - we always swing back at some point. 
~ Muerta
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“What do you know about Fire Nation prisons?” 
You expect Rina to falter at the question. She doesn't even flinch, continuing to dress you as if you asked her what she’d had for breakfast. 
“What do you want to know?” she wonders in return. 
You gaze off, allowing your mind to roam as you consider her question. 
Since your return to the Fire Nation, Zuko’s attentive attitude hasn't changed, and your fondness for him has grown in ways you never expected it would. During council meetings, it’s become a habit to hold his hand under the table where your advisors can't see (though Yong has caught you once or twice, smirking as if you were two school children passing love notes during class). You spend more time together in the evenings before bed, and some nights you invite Zuko to sleep beside you, missing his presence since returning to separate rooms - he’s always gone before sunrise to discourage any scandal (despite the fact that you're married), never leaving without a kiss to your forehead and a murmur of, “See you soon.” It’s also become routine to meet him by the turtle duck pond when you each have a moment to spare, the little creatures getting so used to your presence that many of them freely approach you, pecking at your palms in the chance you have a treat for them. 
“My mother and I used to do this,” Zuko confides during one of your breaks; it's the first cool afternoon since the beginning of summer, a few leaves from the overhanging maple tree floating on the pond’s placid surface. “I remember throwing a rock at one of the ducklings when I was a kid. Its mother bit me.” 
You giggle, opening your hand so a young male can nibble at the apple peel you hold out to him; you attempt to scratch his head while he eats, and he squawks at you. 
“Good for her,” you jeer. “Serves you right for being a dick.” 
Zuko chuckles, the curl of his lips framing a hazy sadness in his eyes. 
“Azula did stuff like that all the time,” he sighs. “I always felt… bad. Our mother knew what she was when she was really young. I was the one who got all her kindness. Sometimes… I think it's my fault Azula ended up the way she did.” 
“It isn't,” you assure him. You tuck your hand into his. “Your parents played favorites. It wasn't fair.”
Zuko hums absently, his gaze drawn out across the courtyard. After a moment, he’s pulled back to you, a playful grin tugging at his mouth.
“You remind me of a turtle duck,” he states. “You look harmless. You're cute. But you could really fuck someone up if they provoked you.” 
You laugh, slipping your hand from his to teasingly shove his shoulder; the turtle ducks around you scatter as he mirrors your reaction, doing little to defend himself against your loving attack. 
“Did you just call me ‘cute’?” you tease, reaching to pinch at his cheek - he grimaces, taking your hand away from his face by recapturing it in his. “Are you going soft on me, Hothead?” 
He chuckles, mirthfully flicking an apple peel into your hair. You notice the blush that colors his neck, unable to deny your own.
“Oh, Turtleduck,” he says with mock pity. “Is Sokka so bad at flirting that you never learned to pick up on it?” 
He's used his new pet name for you almost every day since he coined it; every time he does, your heart soars out of your throat and into the clouds. 
Through your bedroom window, you can see Zuko on the porch behind your chambers, leaned casually against the railing as he chats with Aang. 
Aang says something that makes the older man laugh; your innards seem to melt as the lines around the corners of Zuko’s eyes and lips wrinkle like folds in a bedsheet. Something in the scene riles you - you’ll slit a hundred men’s throats to protect that smile and the feeling it gives you. 
“This is about Azula,” Rina observes. 
One thing you've learned in your short time with her is that you can't keep secrets from her - chances are she already knows all of them. 
“I just want to know what her living situation is like,” you tell her, “how powerful she could actually be from inside a prison cell.” 
“You have a merciful husband,” Rina sighs, somewhat dreamily . “Azula doesn't live in a prison; he put her in a compound in the Si Wong desert. She's heavily guarded and follows strict schedules and rules, but he didn't want her to live the rest of her life in a cage.” 
“What about Ozai?” you ask. 
“He’s in a prison. I said your husband was merciful, not that he doesn't hold a grudge.” 
You smirk, momentarily eased from the worry that strains your mind. 
“Do either of them have access to the outside world?” you press. 
Rina shakes her head. 
“Azula has very little; the last she heard of anything outside the compound was your marriage announcement. Ozai has absolutely none. All the guards that keep both of them are from the unoccupied Earth Kingdom, so they have no allegiance to them, and only a select few guards are allowed to speak to Azula.” 
“So… there's no way they could be the masterminds of any of this?” 
Rina lifts her gaze from the sash she cinches at your waist, her dark, round eyes meeting yours; her expression is blank, but she speaks in a determined hush. 
“I can't say for certain. But Azula’s intelligence is violent and cunning; she sees things from a different perspective that isn't entirely human. She has insights that more empathetic people would never consider.” 
You nod slowly, understanding. 
“I'll talk to Aang.”
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Katara arrives from the Southern Tribe a few hours before the banquet you're hosting in Aang’s honor is scheduled to begin. You accompany her husband and yours to the imperial docks, a massive grin breaking across your cheeks the moment you spot her on the ship’s deck; she sends you a large, sweeping wave, catching you in her arms as soon as she's close enough to do so. 
“I'm so glad you're okay,” she cries into your ear. “How do you feel?” 
You nod, holding her by the waist as she pulls away. Her grip doesn't loosen, her arms still coiled around yours in an affectionate embrace. 
“I'm good,” you assure her. “I'm tough.” 
She smiles, pulling you in to kiss your cheek before turning to Zuko, greeting him with a warm hug. When she reaches Aang, her gestures are much slower, more tender. He takes her chin between two fingers and kisses her gently, his other hand positioned low on her waist as it presses her tightly against him; the action is so out of character for the two - typically so lively and averse to such kinds of public affection - that you and Zuko share an instinctive, curious glance. 
“Did we forget their anniversary or something?” you whisper, fear jolting through you when a look of panic crosses his features. 
“... I don't think so,” he says after a pause. “Maybe… he just missed her?” 
The confusion on his face is endearing - he's more emotionally intelligent than most people, but he's the last person who knows it. 
“Could be,” you agree. “This is the longest they've been apart in years.” 
The two of you watch as Aang assists Katara into Appa’s saddle, another strange behavior considering how used to flying Katara is. Neither of them seem to notice your staring, Aang leaning in for another lingering kiss before taking his place at the reins.
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You return to the palace and are met with commotion, servants and high-level diplomats scrambling this way and that in a flustered frenzy. Everyone immediately alerts, prepared for yet another catastrophe. 
“What's going on?” Zuko demands as Rina approaches you; she doesn't hide her sneer at his brash tone, and you smirk as he apologetically shrinks back. 
“You have visitors, come to give their congratulations for your marriage,” Rina explains. 
“Who?” Zuko wonders. 
“Sun Warriors. They're waiting for you in the throne room.” 
Zuko and Aang exchange a look of shock. As you're ushered through the halls of the administrative wing and into the throne room, you take Aang by the arm, pulling him close so you can whisper to him. 
“Who are the Sun Warriors?” you ask. 
“They were the first fire benders,” Aang tells you. “They were supposedly wiped out, but Zuko and I met them when we visited their island at the beginning of my fire bending training. Their existence is supposed to be a secret.” 
“Then why would they come here?” 
“Your guess is as good as mine.” 
The throne room is silent - empty save for your entourage and guests - but a constant, electric buzz seems to hang in the air. Zuko falls into step beside you, taking your arm in his as you approach the group of visitors gathered before the throne; their clothing suggests Fire Nation, but from a different world, ancient to the point of almost primal. Each person present is decorated in baroque jewelry, glimmering gold and laced with vibrantly colored beads placed in intricate, deliberate patterns. Their faces are painted in stark lines of red and white, some across their noses and cheeks and under their eyes, others over their chins and foreheads; the makeup is so similar to Water Tribe markings that your eyes widen, unable to stop yourself from leaning in as you attempt to get a better look while also remaining dignified. The warriors are also much more robust than their mainland counterparts, with stocky builds and robust features - they remind you of your own people, leaving you in awe. 
“Chief Sunan,” Zuko addresses the leader of the group, bowing low as he speaks; you follow suit, leveling your gaze with the floor. “To what do we owe the honor of your visit?” 
The chief smiles faintly, warmly at the two of you, bowing in return. 
“We are not so cut off from the outside world that we have not heard of your marriage,” he says. “News has traveled to us of the strength of your union, and the tenacity of your bride. As Firelord, you have protected us, and made strides to restore the ancient ways of the element - we have come to give you our thanks, and offer our blessings to the both of you.” 
Chief Sunan steps aside then, making way for a man and woman carrying a basket between them; they lower it at your feet, bowing as they step back to rejoin their people. 
“A gift,” the chief proclaims. His muted grin morphs into something more knowing, almost mirthful as he watches Zuko approach the offering. 
You rest a supportive hand on Zuko’s back as he leans forward, lifting the lid of the basket to reveal its contents; he raises a bundle of blankets from the vessel, his eyes growing wide as he peels the fabric back. 
Inside the package is a dragon, just small enough to be cradled in his arms. Its scales are a gorgeous crimson, glinting and shifting between hues of gold and turquoise in the light cast from Zuko’s bended fire that surrounds his empty throne. The little beast peers up at its new parent with amber eyes that mirror your husband’s. Zuko lets out an astonished breath, raising his gaze to meet Chief Sunan’s. 
“I can’t accept this,” he states, so quietly that only you and the chief can make out the words. 
“You must,” Chief Sunan counters, his smile never faltering. “The masters insisted.” 
Under your palm, you feel Zuko’s body tense. He nods, cautiously settling the tiny dragon into your arms; you hold the bundle tightly, reaching in to stroke gently at the baby’s nose. It purs appreciatively, and your heart swells. 
Zuko bows, lowering himself to the floor in the ultimate display of respect. 
“Thank you,” he says. “I vow to protect him with my life.” 
When he once again stands, he looks to Rina. 
“Accommodate them however they need,” he commands. “Send a group of our Kyoshi Warriors to the island to guard it from outsiders.” 
Rina nods, scurrying off immediately to delegate the tasks. Chief Sunan then approaches you, resting a hand on your shoulder; you meet his eyes with slight fear, but find only kindness looking back at you. 
“We are grateful our bloodlines will merge once again,” he tells you. “The origin of our people is a history that has been lost to time, long before the war was even a speck on the horizon. You see, the Sun Warriors are descendents of migrant peoples from the earliest ancestors of the Southern Water Tribe as well as the Fire Nation - what our mothers and fathers knew of water bending shaped our understanding of fire. Your union brings our people together once again, as they should be.” 
Zuko wraps an arm around your waist, proudly pulling you against his side. You draw in a shaky breath, leaning into him as you nod, tears pooling along the lines of your lower eyelids. 
“It’s an honor to finally meet you,” you say. “I’ll do everything to make sure we regain our lost history. I promise.” 
Chief Sunan smiles temperately and nods, his fingers contracting around your shoulder in an appreciative grasp. 
“Thank you,” he whispers. “We are proud to call you our queen.” 
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You invite the Warriors to stay for the night, Aang eagerly informing them of the banquet you have planned; by the time your reception of the unexpected visitors is finished, there's little more than an hour before it begins. 
Zuko brings your new ward back to your quarters, keeping him tucked protectively under his arms until you shut the sitting room door securely behind you. He then unravels the blankets the little creature is wrapped in, allowing him to explore his new home. 
“I thought dragons were extinct,” you marvel, watching as the fabled reptile twists and turns his body around every piece of furniture he encounters, inspecting everything he sees with humanlike interest. You smile, endeared by his wonder. 
“There are two still living,” Zuko explains. He kneels down beside the dragon, offering him a bit of a rice cracker from the box you keep in a side table for your nightly tea. “Three, now, I guess. The other two are the fire bending masters Aang and I had to seek approval from after I joined their team. Honestly, I thought they were both males.” 
“You must have made a good impression for them to trust you with their kid,” you remark, stifling a bit of laughter at his confession. “Maybe this’ll get Yong to stop bugging us about getting me knocked up.” 
Zuko chuckles, glancing up at you with an impish grin; the suggestive expression makes you blush, and you try to not admit to yourself that the excitement it sparks isn't unwelcome. 
The baby dragon lets out a mewling growl as he wraps himself around Zuko’s shoulders. He blows a minuscule jet of flame into the Firelord’s face, which Zuko mimics. You feel like squealing. 
“What should we call him?” you ask, lowering yourself onto the floor beside your husband. You hold a finger out to the dragon, which he curiously takes into one of his clawed hands. 
“Druk,” Zuko answers. “He looks like a Druk, doesn’t he?” 
You nod, your cheeks pinkened by the smile that’s plastered itself across your face; Zuko’s eyes meet yours with the same joyed expression. He maneuvers himself closer to you, resting his hand atop yours in your lap. As his fingers curl around your palm, you become achingly aware of just how near to you he is, and in a way that’s no longer friendly - the tension is heavier now, strained under the weight of a giddy, fluttering mania that leaves you dizzy. You don’t have to wonder if he feels the same. 
“Guess we’re parents now,” Zuko jokes, his voice barely above a breath. 
You giggle, taking the chance of leaning in to brush your lips to his. Your skin hardly touches; you’re too nervous to dive in and taste him, and for a moment after you pull away, you fear you may have imagined the glancing kiss. The fire that flares across Zuko’s cheeks tells you you didn’t. 
“Yeah,” you smirk, speaking in a murmur. “Guess we are.” 
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Text
Song Challenge ~ SoonChan Campfire
"Chan? So why are you taking me on your family weekend? I mean, I love it, don't get me wrong, I always loved it. But doesn't this spot belong to Joshua now?" Soonyoung wondered as he put the last bags in to his car. Chan shrugged, "you always came with us. My family knows you, and you know them, I uhm, I don't think Joshua would like something like this." They both got in the car, Soonyoung in the drivers seat, Chan next to him, ready to drive to Chan's family cabin in the woods, out of town. "But don't you think its about time that Joshua should meet the rest of your family? I know atleast your mom is very find of him." Chan let out a sigh, "he wasn't ready, Soon." Was the last thing Chan said as he turned up the music, avoiding any further questions.
Once at the cabin, Chan's family happily greeted both of them. "Channie, my dear. Where is Joshua?" Chan' s mom asked as she pecked his cheeks. "He couldn't make it, sorry mom." She turned to greet Soonyoung with a warm hug, "its great to see you, dear. Its always a pleasure to have you here." Soonyoung smiled, "thank you for having me, miss. Lee."
After Soonyoung and Chan had moved their bags from the car to the cabin, they helped out with making dinner and setting the table. Chan had started to move around nervously, the first dinner at the cabin, always meant one, or more people came with big news. Everyone always waiting for Chan's father to open the dinner with a toast. "Chan, what's wrong? Why are you acting so weird? You know, you can still call Joshua, if you rather have him here then me, i'm sure he would change his mind." Chan shook his head, "no, Soonyoung. Its fine, I'll see him later, okay? Now, if we can focus on dinner? Father will be here soon." Soonyoung shrugged and quietly went on with preparing things for dinner.
"I am glad that everyone is here, and in perfect health. Ofcourse, I already heard some whispers going around about announcements. So come on, spill!" Chan's dad chanted friendly. Chan's cousin and her fiancée went first, they were expecting their first baby, everyone went around to wish them well. Some talk later, Chan's dad looked at Chan, "come on, son. I know you have some big news, you can tell." Chan shook his head, he already knew what his dad was refering to, but there was no big news to share. "Well, Chan. I know Joshua couldn't be here this weekend, but that doesn't mean you can't share the news." All eyes were on Chan, who was pretty sure all the colour had left his cheeks as he stared in to nowhere. "Chan, my boy. If you're too shy, I will share it. Everyone, my one and only son, Chan, is getting married! The gentleman came to ask for Chan's hand in marriage, and ofcourse, I gave him my blessing. I can only imagine how good he is for my son. So lets toast, to our family growing bigger in many different ways!" As he lifted his glass, Soonyoung was looking at Chan in disbelieve, upset that Chan didn't tell him about the engagement, but Chan felt like he was going to get sick, right at that moment. Quickly, Chan shove his plate away from him as he got up and stormed outside, eager for fresh air. Soonyoung excused himself as he quickly followed Chan outside.
"Chan, hey! Channie!" Soonyoung yelled as he got hold of Chan's arm. "You're getting married? Why didn't you tell me?" Chan tried to catch his breath as he shook his head. "Come on, Chan. Say something.." Chan didn't say anything, as he continued walking towards the open field, where they had already prepared a fire for later that weekend. "Chan.." Soonyoung whispered, but still no response. Chan started the fire, sitting close to it, so he could feel fhe heath. "You know that you can tell me anything, right? No judgement here." He sat down close to Chan, but not too close. "Soonyoung," Chan finally started. "You know, the reason why Joshua isn't here? Its because we are not together anymore." Soonyoung raised his eyebrows, many questions came to his mind, but he just looked at Chan, waiting for him to continue. "Look, my father didn't lie, okay? Joshua proposed to me. And yes, it was romantic and all, but I couldn't do it, Soon. I just couldn't." In his mind, Soonyoung was impatient, he wanted to know everything. He knew Joshua was a good guy, but truely, he had always felt slightly jealous towards him, because he too, was in love with Chan, but never dared to make a move. "He was so sweet, Soon. I hate myself, I fucking hate myself. I broke his heart." Chan was fully in tears by now, his face hiding in his arms, on his knees. "Channie.." Soonyoung moved closer, wrapping an arm around the younger, trying to comfort him. Chan tried to reject him and move away, only to lean in to the touch again and hug Soonyoung tightly. "Shh, hey. Its okay, Chan. Its gonna be okay." Soonyoung petted his back, moving small circles, as Chan was trying to calm down. "He was s-so upset and angry. He looked so broken. Soonyoung, I broke him. It would have all been better if I never got together with him in the first place." Chan slowly moved away from Soonyoung, looking at the fire again. "But you didn't do anything wrong, Chan. If you weren't ready, then its best to be honest about it." Chan sniffed, trying to hold back the tears that kept coming. "Its not that I wasn't ready, Soon. Its because I am in love with someone else. I broke his heart because I am in love with someone else. How fucking selfish is that?" Soonyoung took hold of Chan's hand, "Chan, hey. Look, would you rather have said yes, and be unhappy in a marriage because you're not fully commited to it, only because you want to protect Joshua's heart? Because I think you did the right thing. Yes, he's hurting now. But Joshua is a strong man, okay? He will eventually be alright again. But maybe you should reach out to that other person? Don't you want to find out if it was worth it? That you left Joshua, because you might have a shot with them?" Chan shook his head, "no, Soonyoung. I don't want to do that. I left Joshua because it didn't feel right to stay because of my feelings for someone else. But that doesn't mean I want to act on these feelings." Soonyoung nodded, understanding Chan and giving him space.
They sat it silence, both looking at the fire that was dancing in all directions. At one point, Chan's mother came to check up on them, knowing very well where her son went when he wasn't feeling well. Soonyoung had told her that Chan was feeling a bit under the weather, and that they just needed some time to talk about things before heading back. As she went back to the cabin, Chan felt even more guilty then before, but he stayed at the exact same spot.
After a while, Chan burst in to tears again, Soonyoung sat down next to him, wrapping his arms around him tightly, assuring him that it would be fine. "But Soonyoung, I-I'm such a fool.. Even thinking for a second that this person would have feelings for me too.." Soonyoung shook his head, "don't say that, little one. Whoever gets to spend the rest of their life with you, should consider themself the most lucky person walking around this earth, okay? And ofcourse, you take your time, whether or not you eventually want to tell them. But if I were them, I would definitly feel like the luckiest person in the universe." Chan looked up, looking in to Soonyoung's eyes, struggling with the words he wanted to say. "Maybe.. M-maybe you should consider yourself t-the luckiest person in the universe.." It took Soonyoung a moment to take in Chan's words, who went from having red cheeks from all the crying, to white as snow, as if he had seen a ghost. "Chan.. What are you saying?.." Soonyoung bit down on his bottom lip, if anything, he didn't want to misunderstand the situation. "That I'm in love with you, Soon.. I told you it was stupid.." Chan wanted to get up and walk away, but Soonyoung was quick to get hold of Chan's arm and make him turn around to face him again. Looking in to each others eyes, suddenly felt different then before, Chan felt nervous and wanted to run away and never look back, as Soonyoung felt like he had just won the lottery. Soonyoung was still holding on to Chan's arm, but he was lost for words, Chan felt like he could fall down any second, but something was keeping him from falling. That something being Soonyoung's lips against his own, soft, gentle, and a little unsure for both of them. But Chan finally relaxed under the touch and Soonyoung noticed, wrapping his arms around Chan's neck, not breaking the kiss for even a second. Chan had his arms around Soonyoung's waist, he could feel that a few tears still tried to escape his eyes. When they finally parted to catch some air again, Chan rested his head against Soonyoung's chest, while Soonyoung drew small circles on Chan's back.
They stood like that for a while, both wondering if what just happend, was in fact, real and not a dream. No words were needed, as the look in their eyes already said enough. They sat down again, Soonyoung had one arm around Chan, who rested calmly against Soonyoung. "Hey Chan-," Soonyoung started, but was immedeatly interrupted by Chan's lips against his, moving smoothly, as Chan made Soonyoung lay on his back, Chan resting right above Soonyoung's chest, as they kept kissing, deeper and more passionate then before. Their body's temparture rising, not only by their touches, but from the fire that was right next to them. They removed their shirts, immedeatly finding each others lips again, chest against chest, hands traveling up and down each others bodies, exploring each other like there was no tomorrow. Breaths were getting heavier as they both became super needy for each other, untill Chan pulled back slightly, making eye contact with the older. "Soonyoung, I-I'm sorry, I-," Soonyoung pushed himself up, kissing Chan gently, "its fine, I understand." Chan smiled, relieved, but couldn't help but tear up, once again. "Hey, its fine, okay? It really is." Soonyoung rested with one arm on the ground, as with his other hand, he wiped Chan's tears away. "I understand. You don't have to be sorry. Come on, lets get you dressed again before you catch a cold, okay?" Chan nodded slowly, getting off of Soonyoung, who collected their clothes so they could get dressed again. "Do you want to go back to the cabin?" Chan shook his head, "no, I'm not ready yet. I want to stay here a little longer, with you." Soonyoung smiled lightly, as he took the younger in to his arms, making sure he couldn't get cold. "Whatever you want, little one. I'm not leaving your side ever again." They shared a short kiss, Soonyoung wrapped his arms around Chan's waist as he leaned his head on Chan's shoulder. Chan leaning back in to the touch, leaning against Soonyoung's chest.
The next morning, they woke up from the sun brightly shining on them, as the fire had almost gone out by itself. "Shit, we were here the whole night?" Chan immedeatly sat up, Soonyoung following slowly. "Hey, calm down. Your mom knows we're here, its fine. Hey, look." Soonyoung pointed towards a paper bag that was sitting close to them. Chan went to grab the bag, "There are sandwiches in here and two bottles of juice. And a little note, -I know, its okay. We will tell father later. Love, mom.-" Chan smiled at the note as he sat down again. "See, it will be fine, there is no rush." Soonyoung said as he left a soft kiss on Chan's cheek. "No rush." Chan repeated, as he pressed their lips together, before they started eating their little breakfast.
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forkanna · 3 years
Link
[AO3] [WATTPAD]
WARNING: Another NSFW chapter, though this one contains more plot.
NOTE: I apologise for taking nearly a month off from posting. Just haven't been in a writing mood. I'll be trying to get back to our regularly scheduled programme soon!
                                                  ~ o ~
The appointed hour had arrived. Rise watched Ai's face carefully as it was screwed up in concentration, trying to ignore the anxious flutter in the pit of her stomach. This situation was life-or-death, because if it went in a direction she didn't like she would probably want to throw herself off the nearest bridge.
"Well…?"
"Hmm… it's like… a shiny flower… butterfly… thing."
"What?!"
Huffing, Ai pushed up on her elbows a little more. "Well, what do you want me to say?! That's what it looks like, spread open like that!"
"Ughh, you don't have to make me feel like my body is weird! I'm doing this for you, remember?"
"Yes, and I appreciate it, of course," she conceded with a roll of her eyes. "But don't act like I don't have a point; that is what it reminds me of. I'm just being honest."
Now all Rise wanted to do was close her legs. But she had to ask one more question. "Does… does that mean you don't like it?"
"What? No way, don't be an idiot!" Crawling forward to look straight into her eyes, she whispered, "You're the hottest chick at Yasogami. Well, besides me." They both smirked. "And every part of you is beautiful, do you hear me?"
"Okay, okay," she muttered glumly, trying not to pout. "Sorry."
"No, no, I get it. Suddenly I'm the bitch whose opinion matters a lot because my body is the only one that gets really close to yours. Like, you're obviously going to be worried that I'm not into your body as much as you're clearly into mine."
"Geez, you don't have to put it like that, Ebi-chan. I'm not a pervert! I just… I really like my girlfriend, it's normal! Well… not that liking girls is."
Ai shrugged as she reached down to pet her fingers up and down over Rise's abdomen. They were on the tatami in the middle of their hotel room, the setting sun barely lighting up the walls, and Ai was still fully dressed whereas her girlfriend had fully disrobed, to give her the chance to examine her body at her leisure. It was a little weird, and she felt like a lab experiment, but she knew Ai had probably felt much the same when she was sniffing around her dick before. Fair was fair.
"I think it's pretty normal," Ai protested as her flawlessly-buffed fingernails teased through Rise's well-trimmed strip of pubic hair. Why was that not just hot, but somehow yet hotter because they were such delicate fingers?
"Mmhhh… well, I… I feel so guilty, still. Like we're sneaking around and doing something naughty."
Her lips quirked into another smirk. "Oh, we're definitely naughty. But sneaking around? It's kind of a social media blitz for you or whatever, so… either we're not doing that at all, or we are amazingly shitty at it."
"Shut up," she snorted, bopping Ai on the ear with her knee. It was the easiest thing to reach. "But um… I guess that's true."
"Everything's completely fine, girl," she told her in that extremely rare tone of gentleness that made Rise's heart pound double-time. "We're golden — it's Golden Week. Loosen up."
Snorting, she shot back, "I could have said that to you this morning." Ai rolled her eyes. "Y'know, when my finger was in y-"
"Yes, I get it, I get it." Her head tilted to one side, honey-hued locks pooling on the floor. "Did you like that?"
"Well… it was weird, and kinda gross at first. But!" she protested when Ai started to grimace. "I'd do it just to make you happy, even if it was horrible. And it wasn't, okay? I even…"
When Rise still hadn't finished that sentence after a few seconds, Ai wound up prompting her, "You even… liked it? Hated it? Give me something to go on here."
"No. It's too weird."
"Come on, it's just us. You gotta get used to trusting me sometime. Or don't, I guess."
"Are you… guilting me?"
"See? You already don't trust me." But when Rise pouted, she snorted and poked her in the tummy. "Just playing with you… but maybe also making a point. I know I'm kind of a bitch, but I'm trying to trust you despite almost outing me to the entire school. Can it start cutting both ways?"
Thoroughly chagrined, she whispered, "Well… that's not exactly what this is. But I get it. I'm just embarrassed and you know that, but I'll try to open up… if you do."
"Oh yeah?"
"Yeah. So if I admit I thought it was pretty hot, watching you get all squirmy… will you admit that you liked me slipping a finger up there?"
Stalemate. Both of them were staring into each other's eyes, trying not to give ground. A perfect example that both of them were correct in their estimations of what areas they needed to work on. Eventually Ai took a breath and sighed, "Okay, okay, you're right. I just… it's almost like admitting weakness. Which is so dumb that I care, we should both be getting more comfortable with each other."
"Okay. Just this time, even though you didn't say it, I'll accept that as you admitting you liked it," Rise said in a slight sing-song. When her girlfriend pouted, she went on, "And I thought it was hot. Like, not the butt part exactly? But fingering you…" She could feel her cheeks heating up from having to put it into words.
"Yeah. I mean, I get that. Just because it's… where it is, doesn't mean you didn't fuck me right."
"EBI-CHAN!" she hissed in a scandalised tone.
"What? You did. I mean, now that we're being honest…" Ai still had to clear her throat, even if she was doing a better job of keeping an even tone of voice. "Your finger started hitting really deep — hit my spot, and it was all over. I've never, ever felt like that before. It was like my fingers and toes and nose and tits were all orgasming with me."
Rise had been gaping at her until the very end, when she let out a weak little laugh. "Nose and toes, huh? Wow. But I'm really happy I could help; I just wanted to make you feel good, and find out if that was one way we could do that."
"Definitely. Like, now that I'm past trying to pretend I don't need it." Ai squirmed a little. "Uhh…"
She sat up a little more, petting through her hair. And she leaned into the touch. Had she ever done that before? "Do you want me to do it again? Not right now!" she reassured her, and Ai relaxed a little. "But just, um, just in the future."
"I think so. Is that weird? You're my girlfriend, you shouldn't have to fuck me in the ass like a dude."
"Mm. Well, then I'll fuck you in the ass like a lady."
Ai giggled a little, crawling up to curl around her body. "I don't know exactly what that means, but I'm there. I'll offer you the same anytime you want."
"Oh, I think I'll be okay," she laughed easily. "I've never had any interest in that. Before! Before now. Wait — no, I still don't have any interest in having mine… d-do we really have to keep discussing this?"
"No," Ai told her with a slight smirk as she leaned in to kiss her cheek so tenderly that Rise briefly forgot that she was even nervous about the topic of conversation. "We could go back to talking about that phone call."
A brief pause. "So about my butt…"
"Come on, it can't have been that bad," she challenged her with a little snort. "You're just gonna keep being your fabulous self, and so will I, and Japan will join the fucking twenty-first century."
"Yeah, I just… talking about it… I'd rather focus on you, on us. On Okinawa! This is one of our last little flings — especially for you, senpai."
Clearly, that hint wasn't lost on her. She sighed and cuddled a little closer. "You're right. We should enjoy it while we can."
"Mmm, it feels like somebody already is."
"That's- it's an involuntary reaction! I was literally staring down the barrel of your pussy two seconds ago — anybody with one of these would have theirs sticking straight up, too!"
Voice the tiniest bit haughty, she said, "Well. I'm not going to assume anything, okay? I know you don't want me to… give you a little kiss down there… or caress with my fingers… or-"
"What a goddamn tease," she muttered.
"You love it." When Ai didn't answer, she grinned and pressed a soft kiss to her lips, pulling her in yet closer. They didn't really need any words anymore. As hard as it was to ignore that firm presence, given how unfamiliar Rise was with such things, she just tried to keep her focus on those sweet lips pressing against her own, on the warm back beneath her palms. On the woman she wanted to spend the rest of her life with.
That realisation bowled her over. Even though they had been trending in that direction, she had yet to truly think about their future together. Sure, they would have to list Ai as male in order to get a marriage certificate… or would they? Maybe they really shouldn't worry about it. Not being able to enjoy the same status as her straight friends would be frustrating, yes, but it wasn't the end of the world. As long as she could live with her lover and share their lives, that was good enough.
By the time they finally parted, Ai managed to breathe, "I want you so bad…"
Careful to keep her tone neutral, she whispered, "How?"
"Any way I can have you. I… shit, what the hell did you turn me into?"
"Then I'm all yours. You can… have my mouth again, if that's what you like. Or did you wanna go, um… go all the way?"
"I don't know!" she groused as she pulled at her hair. Not that this minor crisis was reducing her arousal any; it was still grinding into Rise's hip and driving her up a wall. "UGH! I want to be as close to you as I can, and that seems like the way, but I also don't want to be the 'boy', you know?"
Drawing her in for another brief kiss, she whispered, "You won't be. Not to me; you'll always just be Ai. My cute little Ebi-chan. I… do you want me to use my finger on you again? I'd love to! I wanna do anything that makes you happy!"
"I… kind of? But no, not right now. I want to make you happy this time."
"Oh." Rise felt another flush of shame, trying not to remember the very obvious fact that she didn't have a stitch of clothing on her person. "Well, um… I want what you want." Did she just give her permission?!
"Good. Then let me try, um… with my mouth. I'll probably suck, but hey, no time like the present to start practicing. Especially if I ever want to be able to do this right."
"Sure! Yeah, that's… that's the same thing I was thinking while doing it for you." With a slight squirm, she then lowered her voice to barely a whisper, "I'm just… I'm sorry if it tastes, or smells… you know…"
Ai lifted a hand to waft away such thoughts. "You'll be fine. It's you. I mean, even if you weren't the sweetest girl in the universe, you're still Risette; that label of yours wouldn't let you have some stanky puss."
Bright red. Like a stoplight. Even though Ai was saying hers wouldn't be so aromatic, the very idea of it meriting a word such as "stanky" made her want to take a bath with a toaster. "U-uhm… thanks?"
"Anytime, girl."
And that seemed to be all the warning she got before Ai was kissing her way down her chest toward a clear goal. This was it; she was finally going to get as good as she gave. Unless she thought of some legitimate reason to ask the teen queen to pull back… but her mind was a blank. All she could think about was those perfect lips dimpling the skin of her abdomen, the lusty gaze being shot up in her direction as she moved lower, and lower…
Lowest. She felt a kiss in her hairs and she couldn't entirely suppress an anxious squeak. Her eyes slid closed as one leg moved up to drape over her girlfriend's back, hoping that would somehow encourage her — prove that she was ready. Even if she wasn't.
"This alright?"
Oh no. Ai was calling her bluff; it was glaringly obvious how high her nerves were running. "Y-yeah… it's just really, um, new?"
"I get that."
Then Ai moved again, and Rise almost curled into a ball. "WOW! That's- you kissed my…"
There was a slight sheen on Ai's smirk when she raised up to look at her properly. "You are soaking fucking wet, Kujikawa. How bad have you been needing it?"
"I haven't been! Honestly, I'm- NNH, how are you doing this?!"
"Pretty easy," she shot back before leaving a long lick along the entirety of her vulnerable flesh. Rise reached down instinctively to grip the hair attached to that head that was giving her so much pleasure it was overloading her system. Did everybody experience this? Was she oversensitive, or was it normal to feel like every inch of her skin was on fire, like she was losing all control?
"God, this is getting me so hard," Ai breathed before diving back in. Which didn't help matters in the slightest; Rise already felt like she was losing her mind, and knowing her girlfriend was nearly as bad off only heightened her pleasure, making her want to roll over and rut on her face. Or…
Or go further. Ai wasn't ready, and she would respect that, but if just her lips and tongue were making her feel this phenomenal, what would it be like for them to really go for it? Uniting their bodies had to be just as good as taking care of each other in turn, if not better.
"NH!" she finally burst out when she felt the pleasure rising. "I'm… I'm about to- it's gonna happen!"
"Yeah?" Ai panted as she used her thumb to caress that tortured flesh, gazing up at her with glazed eyes. "That mean… should I finish you off?"
The volume at which the word "YES!" ripped from her throat left their ears ringing. Rise would feel embarrassed about that — later. When she had time. Right now, she was too busy literally dragging Ai's head back down to devour her anew, moaning as her hips rolled up into their point of union. A little more — and the way her tongue was hitting her clit was spurring her on faster, making it-
Ai brought her to the hardest climax she had ever experienced. Feeling this one made her realise she had been only getting close to a real orgasm all those years since she first began to awaken sexually; a real orgasm blew those pretenders to the throne out of the water so easily. Guess that was what she got for never truly masturbating, or finding anybody who could take care of it for her.
Once the most intense of those sensations began to fade, Rise started coming back to her senses. A few things surprised her: she felt the tatami suddenly pressing into her back, because she had lifted herself upward. Ai's shirt moved when she started pulling her leg back, because her toes had clenched so hard in the fabric. The same was true of her hair — which she let go of first, feeling a few strands come away with her fingers with a little flare of guilt that she hadn't been gentler. Her mind had literally gone somewhere else while the ecstasy overwhelmed. It was almost scary, but mostly just… damn.
"Whoa," Ai breathed simply. The whole experience had left both of them speechless. After swallowing and clearing her throat, she licked her lips before wiping them on the back of her hand and crawling up to hover above her girlfriend. "You okay?"
"Hmnah!" was the best she could do. Ai giggled, so she tried to do better this time. "Yeah!"
Grinning, she pressed her face into Rise's neck. "Yeah. I can handle that review, I guess. Still wanna know if I did anything stupid, though; like, this was my first attempt, I can't have been perfect."
"Oh… you… close to… heaven." She hadn't meant to say 'heaven', it just slipped out.
"Really? Well… good, that's good." Ai was kissing her neck a little more firmly, more frequently. It suddenly occurred to Rise that she could feel that bulge digging into her hip; poor Ai hadn't gotten off since that morning, even if she did get there twice.
"You… want help?"
"Huh? Oh, naw, I can ignore it. Don't even trip."
"But you… I wanna… I like your friend." She took a couple of breaths, finally beginning to fully recover. "What can I call her?"
"Annoying," she snorted, and Rise rolled her eyes while she grinned into her hair. "Bitch that won't leave the party."
Nodding, she kissed into her scalp and earned herself a little sigh of appreciation in return. "I like her. That doesn't mean you have to, or like… that you have to keep her or like her for my sake. But just so you know, we get along pretty well. I mean, for a girl and an, um, appendage."
"Dork. But thanks. And it makes me mad that we have to have this conversation… but I appreciate that you get it. That you can really, uh, want my D without forgetting that I don't want it at all."
"Yeah, of course. I might have been dumb when we first started out but I learn fast."
"You do," she agreed with a little squeeze. Rise wrapped her arms more tightly around her girlfriend, appreciating their warmth, their connection. "It's honestly refreshing. Like, I got so much hate when I came out… even from my own family. I had started to believe it was impossible to expect people to get me. Then here comes this prissy famous bitch."
Rise smacked her on the arm, which only earned a harsh chuckle. "Who's the bitch here, really?" But then she moved her hand down to her bulge. "Let me take care of this. Like, it doesn't have to be anything special, or… not unless you want more."
"Mmhh… annoying." But Ai looked away, biting her lower lip. Again, Rise questioned why she found watching that to be so hot but she tried to relegate that question to the back of her mind for the time being.
"What is it?"
"Your mouth is so good… fuck, I'm sorry. Like, that's a lot to ask, twice in one d-"
"You got it." When Ai just blinked at her, she shrugged bashfully. "I'd do that. I'd use my finger again, I'll give you whatever you want. As long as you're okay with me figuring out how to do it as I go, I don't mind! It's nice that we can help each other out."
Though it took her a second, she started to nod with a slight smile. "It is really nice. Weird, but like, I guess it's not since we're dating."
"Yeah," Rise giggled. "We're just not used to dating, right?"
"Mm. You're sure I didn't mess up while muff diving?"
"While WHAT?! Excuse me? You can't call it that!"
Smirking a little as she sat up and started to disrobe, she purred, "I can call it whatever I want, Risette. Now perform for me. Maybe I'll just jerk off onto your butt."
"NO! Ew, why would you do that when I- that's gonna be all sticky, we'd have to take another bath!"
"So what? The last one turned out to be a real event…"
"Yeah, for you! And you were definitely writhing and squealing all over the place!"
"Y-yeah, well, that was your fault!" she shot back as that ready-and-willing cock bounced out into the open air. "Maybe I'll take you up on your mouth just so you can't say mean things to me."
Rise pursed her lips for a moment before saying, "Maybe I won't be as careful with my teeth this time."
"Hey, don't joke like that," Ai said with a shiver. "I might not want to keep her but that is NOT how I wanna lose her."
"Then behave," she purred as she crawled toward her lap, rubbing her cheek against the warm length. "And I'll behave exactly the way you want."
Ai complied. She complied for the following ten minutes, and got exactly what the doctor ordered — because the alluring Nurse Rise was tending her every need. Five star service.
                                               To Be Continued…
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gyllenhaalstories · 3 years
Note
imagine taking rapper jake home to meet your parents.
i’m so sorry for the delay, anon! <3 buckle up, it got long and i’m emo!!!!! lil jakey jakes meeting your parents was not something i thought i’d cry about right now but here i am. i listened to nothing’s gonna hurt you baby by cigarettes after sex if you want to vibe with me!
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<3
jake swore he was about to shit his pants when you reminded him of the dinner with your parents.
he ran all over his house, searching for nothing and everything at oncel. one second it was his tie, the next his phone and after that his keys. he was just so terrified. he wanted to leave a good impression.
he dressed up like he was going to the oscars. he put on a suit, a new one he got tailored to his body just for the occasion. he covered all of his tattoos, with those long sleeves. he hid his chain under the color of the shirt you buttoned lovingly. he went to the barbershop too, he got a fresh cut and his beard neat. he looked like a movie star and even if this was not the man with whom you fell in love, you still loved this new persona.
“you’re so stressed that i’m stressed” you’d scream at him while he paced around the bedroom as you put on a simple outfit, some jeans and a button up shirt too. dresses felt too formal. it was your parents, not the pope. “we’re not going. i’m calling them and i’ll say i’m sick”.
jake stopped moving and protested. “if i wanna ask your father for your hand, i better know how he looks like first. if he likes golf, i’m out”.
the joke was unexpected, but it made both of you laugh. he kept bringing up marriage. it was like a running gag, but it felt more and more real. one day you would be called mrs gyllenhaal. and this day would not happen if you died from a heart attack because you couldn’t face the judgement of your parents.
so jake waited for you in the car. he picked a black jaguar, he didn’t want to be too obnoxious. he had the head lights shining bright and blinked them so you pretended to walk like a model and twirl in front of the car before you sat on the passenger seat. “so fuckin’ gorgeous.” jake said and noticed you, too, wore the chain he got you for your birthday. he stretched his arm out to play with it lightly and then proceeded to drive to your parents’ house.
he stopped in the drive way. it was a tiny home, very old with a bunch of flower pots that were wrapped up for the winter. it was lovely already. jake stopped the car and took deep breaths.
“you sound like you’re about to get into labor”
“it’s a neat trick you’ll have to try it”
and you both breathed fast like two freaks in the car while the music was playing in the background. some U2 song. it calmed the two of you down. when you got out of the car, jake immediately grabbed your hand. he needed the comfort.
you were about to ring the door bell when your mother slammed the door open and wrapped you in a tight hug.
jake smiled and looked behind her. he waved at your father.
“mom, dad, this is my boyfriend, jake. jake, this is my mom and dad.”
“hi mom, hi dad” jake replied and it made the two of them laugh.
jake wanted to bring champagne and flowers, but you convinced him to not do too much. your parents were simple people. they would be happy as long as jake didn’t tease you from under the table (the jeans were definitely a good option) or mentioned politics. 
“our daughter has told us a lot about you” your mother said “yeah, we heard you are a singer? isn’t that the dream” your father added
“yeah.” jake smiled awkwardly and took a sip from the glass of water you both shared. you were sitting on his lap, on the love seat of the small living room. your parents asked him tons of questions. he answered them genuinely. he asked them questions too. he was relieved to find out your father preferred hockey to golf.
you sat around the table. it was weird that the fourth chair of the dining table was finally used.
none of your previous relationships lasted long enough to reach this level of intimacy. sex was one thing, but meeting your parents? that was a HUGE deal.
jake behaved like the best man in the world. he complimented the food. it was just simple spaghetti and storebought garlic bread. but it tasted like love and home. he asked for two other plates. your mom even reached to wipe his chin from the tomato sauce.
it filled him with joy. he had a tough relationship with his own family and he felt like he fit right in with yours.
you watched jake with heart eyes. he was so happy to explain his art and craft to your father who kept asking him if he had met blake shelton or the backstreet boys. you know, hip people. jake laughed and shook his head. he didn’t bother explaining that he sang about filthy things the two of you did. he was happy they considered his job as valid. he was not a carpenter or a doctor. but he was happy to spoil you nonetheless.
“you’re doing great” you’d whisper to jake.
everything was fine. until your mom pulled out the baby photos albums. THE SHAME.
“look at that tiny baby booty!” jake pointed and melted. “toohtless! that gums only look, can’t wait to see it again when we’re old and grumpy.” he pulled out a photo. you were wearing matching ugly yellow zipped hoodie and plaid pants. you were holding a teddy bear of the same colour as the one he got you for your birthday. behind the photography it was written happy y/n at the park with her best friend. he asked if he could keep it. your parents agreed. (it was his phone home screen from now on, your lock screen being a post sex glow photo when he could see a tiny drop of cum at the corner of your eye, it was still cute to him). “so she’s always been bad at cooking?” he said and laughed when you found a picture of you and your grandparents where you held a plate of burnt cookies. “hey, not cool! i was only seven!” you pushed him gently. “look at you now, you burn bread in the toaster”. your parents were the ones who melted now.
“so, jacob...”
jake insisted that it was fine your father called him by his full name.
the two of you were so stressed out. the tone of your father’s voice was suddenly heavy and scary.
“yeah?”
“does it hurt to get tattoos?”
jake squinted and you coughed loud enough to cover the whispered what the fuck that came out of his open mouth. his sleeves were rolled up and exposing the ink. “i mean, yeah, it hurts a lot. it’s worth it though. i feel like an art collector.”
“in my young days, i’ve always wanted a tattoo. i got the concept. this lovely lady as a pin up girl, quite impressive, huh?.” he winked at your mom who blushed while you tried everything you could not to throw up.
jake rolled his sleeve a little higher and pointed at a spot near the veins of the inside of his arm, close to the elbow. he got the outline of a heart tattooed. you noticed how wobbly the lines were, that’s because it was the heart you always drew at the end of your notes that you left him when you were gone or when he was out working. “that’s my favourite.”
THE WAY YOU JUST BURST INTO TEARS and your mom shouted “time for dessert!”
great timing.
“our daughter told us you loved m&m’s”.
jake turned to look at you. you shrugged.
your mother came back with chocolate cake on which she had sprinked crushed m&m pieces on the frosting.
jake asked to get the biggest slice. “that’s the best fuckin’ cake i’ve had in my whole life.” (which was a lie because the best cake was your ass but details) he said, his mouth full. your mother laughed and your father agreed. they began talking about hockey when your mother asked for your help in the kitchen.
“if we learned anything from you,” she started and handed you a plate to dry. you hated to do the dishes, especially if you were to be lectured like a child. “it’s to never judge people by their covers. we love jake. he’s good to you. you’re good to him.”
you hugged your mom and the two of you cried so loudly that jake dropped his spoon. he thought something bad happened. that you cut yourself with the butter knife or something.
“welcome to the family, jake.” your father squeezed jake’s shoulder as you walked back to him to press a kiss on his cheek.
it was now time to leave, after hours and hours of anecdotes from your childhood or from the time you were convinced you’d marry brad pitt or when you put eyeshadow in your hair to act like you dyed them to be punk but it was raining that day and you came back looking like a sad frosty rainbow.
“you’re my favourite person.” jake told you when he gave you his vest as a coat. it was chilly outside.
you all hugged and shook hands, promising to come back soon for brunch. jake told them he’d make his famous pancakes.
“hold on!” jake exclaimed and pulled you by the arm. you followed him back in the kitchen and he fed you a spoon of the cake. you fed him one in return again. “tastes almost as good as your pussy” he whispered in your ear and kissed your chocolate covered lips.
you finally left the house, waving from the car at your parents who stood on the porch. they seemed satisfied. and you? you had never been more in love.
“can’t wait to rip those tight jeans off your body and fuck you like a bitch.” jake winked and started to drive away. “i’m looking forward to the toothless viagra boosted blowjobs too, that’s gonna feel divine.” 
you slapped his thigh and he moaned in pain. you rested your hand there and he brought it to his lips, planting a soft kiss.
“welcome to the family.” you repeated.
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let-it-raines · 4 years
Text
another kind of green (10/10)
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Emma Swan spends her days in pretty white dresses and heavy layers of makeup. Day after day and dress after dress, she poses for pictures and acts like she’s in love and having the happiest day of her life with the man standing next to her.
It’s not. This is all a gig, and at the end of the day, she’s no longer the girl in the pretty dress who’s faking getting married for a magazine cover or a wedding convention. Instead, she’s the girl who probably never wants to get married.
Little does she know, she already is.
Rating: Mature
a/n: I’m going to post this a few days early per a few requests, and I hope you all enjoy the ending! To those who were waiting to binge read the entire thing, now’s your opportunity! haha. 
Thanks to @xemmaloveskillianx​ choosing | forgotten first meeting + accidentally married | as her fic giveaway choice! It was difficult to figure out at first, but I had a great time writing it for you 💚 
ao3: beginning | current
Tumblr: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10
-/-
“So,” he starts as Emma clasps her bra and adjusts the straps until they’re in place, “that was – ”
“A one-time thing,” she quickly says, not allowing him to finish. “I’m not interested in anything more.” “Aye, neither am I.”
It’s been awhile since a had a one-night stand. They used to be more common for him, even if they did usually turn into month-long flings, but not so much lately. Tonight is an outlier, a what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas kind of cliché, and no matter how much he’d like to pull Emma back into bed with him for another round, she seems ready to go.
Good. That’s likely for the best for both of them.
No strings attached.
“Good. We’re in agreement then. Thanks for the – ”
“The best orgasm of your life?” 
Emma throws her head back with laughter, her tangled hair cascading down, and she quickly brushes through it with her fingers. God, her hair was soft. “Don’t flatter yourself. It was good, but I’m not giving you the best title.”
She reaches down and grabs her leggings, and he decides he should get dressed, too, pulling his jeans back on. “You going to give me another chance to try to take that top spot?”
“Huh. You wish.”
“I obviously do.”
She’s got to be one more cheeky statement away from slapping him.
They both keep getting dressed, falling silent in their conversation, and then all of the sudden they’re standing in front of his hotel room door. When did they move? Maybe the champagne affected him a little more than he thought if time is blurring together like that.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Emma rasps.
“Going down to the casino.”
“You can’t go to the casino. I’m going to the casino.”
“It’s a big city, love. I imagine we can both go. There is quite the selection of casinos.”
“I’m going to this one, though. I do not want to have to go to another hotel when I have a bed here.”
“Well, then, I guess we’ll have to manage to share the same space. We’ve been sharing a rather close space for the past hour, so I think we’ll be right as rain.”
Her eyes roll, and she quickly turns away, grabbing the rest of her belongings and opening his door. Killian follows, keeping his distance behind her, but they easily fall in step with each other. It’s weird walking with her now, hostility running between the two of them in the very hallway where she practically had her hand down his pants an hour ago. Killian tries not to think about it, to think about how damn good that felt and how frustrating it is to have Emma be so put off by him now.
This woman doesn’t make any sense.
Then again, who spends time together after a one-night stand? You either get up and leave right afterward, sneak away in the middle of the night, or have awkward conversation in the morning. Or possibly morning sex, but that’s the best case scenario.
They’re having awkward conversation right now. He should have stayed in the room. Instead he’s standing in an elevator with the woman he just fucked, and he’s never felt quite so claustrophobic.
As soon as the doors open, he’s going in the opposite direction of her. That’ll fix all of these problems.
“Hey,” someone yells when the doors open, “you two got married earlier!”
“Wrong people,” Emma mumbles as she steps out of the elevator.
“No, no, it was the two of you,” another girl says. It’s an entire group of them, all in matching outfits. Bloody hell. It’s a bachelorette party. Why do women insist on dressing alike when someone is getting married? “You had on the most gorgeous dress. It made me want to throw out my dress and buy a new one.”
“Oh, don’t say that. Your dress is gorgeous.”
“But it wasn’t like hers!”
“Yours is better. No offence.”
“None taken,” Emma laughs, looking over at him and smiling before quickly turning away and crossing her arms over her chest. Well, at least she smiled. “I’m sure your dress is gorgeous.”
“Thank you. I’m Anna, by the way. Can we buy you two some drinks? We’ve got a package with the hotel, and I’d just love to hear a little about the wedding.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Emma begins, nibbling on her lip. “I, we – ”
“That sounds great, Anna,” he interrupts. “Emma and I would love that.”
He knows Emma is shooting daggers at him with her eyes, and honestly, he doesn’t blame her. He’s just roped them into spending more time together as well as spending time with an overenthusiastic bachelorette party. If the woman didn’t already dislike him for everything outside of sex, she’d hate him now.
But honestly, it’s not bad. The women are nice, if not a bit loud, and he and Emma manage to string together some kind of fake story about their wedding and their courtship. Neither of them discussed actually telling them the truth, but he has a feeling they would all be absolutely devastated if they learned the truth. They’re very much a group who are in love with love, and if the drinks they’re getting weren’t so damn strong, he’d be bitter about it and say something about being engaged not being all it’s cracked up to be.
He couldn’t tell anyone what marriage is like. But engagement? He knows enough about that, and his certainly wasn’t like this.
“Do you want another one?” Emma asks him.
“Aye.”
She raises her hand over the bar, her sweater rising to show off her toned stomach, and orders them two more drinks. They might as well take advantage of the free drinks while they’re here.
“So, how long are we going to keep telling these women that we’re married?” she asks as she takes another sip of her drink. It’s mostly ice now, but she can’t seem to stop. “As long as we’re getting free drinks? Does that make us horrible people?”
“It makes us opportunists.”
Her eyes roll. “If it wasn’t one in the morning, I would probably protest.”
“It’s a good thing it’s one in the morning then, isn’t it, love?”
The drinks keep flowing as they move away from the bar and move toward the casino, spreading out to slot machines and poker tables. It’s been awhile since he played. Liam used to love the game, and everything Killian knows about it is from him. That’s a good thing when Killian starts winning a little money. It’s not such a great thing when security comes over because they suspect he might be counting cards.
His brain is not functional enough to count cards right now.
He’s definitely drunk. He knows that he is, and at some point today he should have had a little more water. This has not been his most well thought through day.
“Who knew you were such a rebel, nearly getting kicked out of a casino?” Emma asks, walking up to him and poking him in the chest after security finally lets him go. “I didn’t know you had it in you.”
“Darling, you barely know me.”
“True,” she slurs. “What do you say we get out of here since I don’t think security is going to let you keep playing?”
She stumbles, just briefly, and Killian grabs her waist, squeezing her hips. “I thought you said you didn’t want to leave the hotel.”
“Did I?”
“I think so.”
“Huh. Well, I’ve never been to Vegas. I’d like to explore. C’mon, Jones. Let’s go. It’s not like you have anything better to do.”
“No, love, I suppose I don’t.”
One minute he’s standing in the middle of the casino floor only inches away from Emma, and the next they’re walking hand in hand around the Venetian as Killian weaves some kind of story about how they’d tell Anna and her friends that they honeymooned in Italy and how they would absolutely eat that story up. He keeps thinking this isn’t real, that Emma shouldn’t still be standing next to him and that this is all a dream fueled by their sex, but she feels real.
She is definitely real.
And he’s very aware of how she’s clinging onto him in the small room that they’re in.
Wait. Weren’t they just outside? They were. They were also thinking about getting a gondola to ride, but now all of the sudden they’re in a room with the two of them, a few other people, and an Elvis impersonator.
What the fuck?
“You may now kiss your bride.”
Killian looks at Elvis before looking at Emma, and all the sudden he remembers walking into this chapel and remembers that he and Emma are getting married. She’s so pretty like this, her smile so bright, and he can’t quite believe she agreed to marry him. He thought he already had the one woman who would say yes to marrying him, but she eventually changed her mind. Now he’s got another chance.
This is a bloody brilliant idea.
Quickly, Killian bends his knees and dips his head down until his mouth is pressing against Emma’s.
-/-
Emma Swan is kissing him.
Emma. Swan. Is. Kissing. Him.
Killian knows how she kisses. He remembers how she moves her lips and how she knows how to perfectly move between aggressive and careful, and he knows that’s exactly what she’s doing right now.
The thing is, he can’t quite believe it’s real.
That she’s real.
He hasn’t seen her in two weeks. The Academy has been kicking his ass six ways to Sunday, and all he’s done is go to training, come home to eat and study, fall asleep, and then wake up and do it all again. He’s been awful at keeping up with his relationships and with his runs with Emma, and he kept meaning to call her. It was killing him that he kept blowing her off, but then he’d get called away and the thought would slip his mind.
How could Emma Swan have ever slipped his mind?
That’s something he’s been asking himself for months now as he desperately tries to remember every single detail of the day they met and the hours following. Only bits and pieces have come back after they slept together, and as much as he wants to know what happened, maybe it’s better if he never remembers.
Maybe it’s better if he leaves in the here and now because Emma is doing this particularly delicious thing with her tongue that has his heart pounding.  
This is about the last thing he ever expected to happen when he told her they were married and that they’d need an annulment.
God, they were supposed to go out to celebrate the annulment.
Emma starts to move away, her mouth fleetingly leaving his, but he doesn’t let her, wrapping one arm around her back and pulling her toward him while his other hand grabs onto her ponytail and gently tilts her head in the way that he wants to. She got to kiss him the way she wanted, and he damn well intends to get the same opportunity.
Now that the initial shock of her being here is over, now that he knows with complete certainty that this is real, he can feel the softness of her lips and the glorious way that her breasts press into his chest. He’s felt all of these things before, but it wasn’t like this. The last time was different. It was in a buzzed haze of lust and champagne, and while he feels the slightest buzz now, it’s nothing that would make him forget.
How could he ever again?
“Emma,” he whispers as he pulls back, resting his forehead against hers while they both pant, trying to catch their breaths, “what’s happening?”
And then he’s being shoved backward until he’s stumbling back into his apartment and Emma is following behind him. She’s strong, but she shouldn’t have been able to shove him backward as much as she did. Then again, showing up and kissing the holy hell out of him is the exact way to catch him off guard so that he’d stumble over practically anything.
What the hell is happening?
Now that he’s looking at her, he can see the fury in her eyes and the way that her hair is falling out of her ponytail. She’s covered in a light sheen of sweat, and when he looks down at her feet, he sees that she’s in her running shoes.
In the weirdest way, he’s missed those shoes.
She ran here.
“It takes five seconds to text,” Emma pants. His body is having a difficult time ignoring the rasp of her voice and the sweat on her skin, especially as it trickles down between her breasts. “It takes five seconds for you to tell me whatever the hell has been going on that you haven’t been able to go on our runs or get dinner or do whatever the hell it is that we do. Because do you know how it looks to me when I tell you about how shitty people have treated me only for you to practically disappear the next day? Do you know how shitty it felt to get our annulment papers and then have you disappear? Because I thought – I thought we – ”
“We did. We do.”
Her brows shoot to her hairline. “We what?”
Killian takes a step forward, close enough to grab Emma’s hand, but he doesn’t. “We were friends. Are. We are friends, love. I also thought that we might possibly be more. You kissing me kind of confirms that for me.”
Her cheeks turn the prettiest shade of red, and the corners of Killian’s lips tug up. He bets she hates herself for blushing right now. “I’ve kissed you before. You don’t know that it means something.”
Impossible. She’s absolutely impossible.
He rather likes that about her. Quite a lot actually. Definitely more than he ever expected to when he met her.
Definitely more than he ever expected to like anyone again.
“I do.”
“How?”
He braves the next step and moves closer to her, tucking a lose strand of her hair behind her ear. She doesn’t move away, and he has to hold in his exhale of relief.
“Don’t you know, Emma? It’s you. You make me sure of things I’d otherwise be unsure of, and you give me hope I haven’t felt in a long time.”
Her eyes are wider than he’s ever seen them, and unlike so many other days in his life where there’s nothing extraordinary happening, he knows that this is one that could change so much. “Your eyes are so beautiful, sweetheart. I don’t think I’ve seen anything like them before.”
“Do lines like that work on all of the girls?”
“I really only care if they work on you.” Emma huffs, and Killian dips his head down to hover his lips directly over Emma’s. He can feel her breath and the heat of her body. He can feel everything. “I’ve been having my ass kicked by training. I’m so exhausted day in and day out that I barely remember to eat. Not being able to run with you, not being able to have you take the piss out of me over my smoothie choices, has been torture. I didn’t want to leave you when the papers came in. I – ”
For the second time in five minutes, Emma slams her lips into his. She’s a force of nature, this one, and he’s not sure what to do.
Well, besides kiss her.
He’s completely blindsided by her being here, by her doing this, and somewhere in a small corner of his mind, he knows they should talk. He’s been burned enough times by physical relationships that he knows exactly how things like this go, but this isn’t that. This is a bloody confusing relationship that he couldn’t put into words if he tried.
“Are we – ”
“Yes.”
“Do you – ”
“Yes.”
Killian laughs into Emma’s mouth as she pushes him back into his apartment, his feet nearly tripping over Will’s bloody out of place shoes. “You don’t even know what I was going to ask.”
Emma stops kissing him, pulling back as he chases her lips, but he stops right before he captures them once more. “You were going to ask if we were going to have sex.”
“I was going to ask if you wanted to get dinner. A man likes to be courted.”
Her brow raises. “Are you serious?”
It’s nearly impossible for him to hold back his laugh. “Swan, there is literally nothing in the world I want more right now than to have you, but I need you to know that this isn’t going to be just sex for me, not like it was the first time. I know you now. I know the sound of your laugh and how you act when you don’t have coffee or food. I know, well, I know you more than I think either of us expected to get to know each other, and I don’t want this to be a one-time thing.”
He knows Emma well enough to know there’s a chance she’s about to walk back out his front door, but saying that was worth the risk. He doesn’t want to start something that’s going to end up hurting them both.
God, he should have found the time to call her this week. And last week. He’s got to apologize to her again.
Her chest heaves, the sweat there beginning to dry, and she opens her mouth only to snap it closed. “It’s not going to be a one-time thing. It means more to me now, too.”
“Good.”
He can’t seem to stray far from Emma, his hands running along the sides of her neck before falling down to her arms, and the way she’s working a spot on his neck is absolutely divine. She’s intoxicating, and every breath is not enough. That should terrify him. Hell, it should have him running out his own front door. This spark that runs hotly between them isn’t entirely new to him, and the last time it blew up in his face.
This has all the potential to do the same.
Or not.
“Is Will home?” Emma murmurs as they walk back toward his bedroom.
“At work.”
“Good. Wouldn’t want him walking out of his room and seeing this.” “It’d be quite the show.”
Emma pushes against his chest, but he easily grabs her waist and turns her around until he’s the one guiding her. She didn’t know where they were going anyway, was simply aimlessly guiding him until his back hit a wall and until her sweatshirt was left on the hallway floor. There’s so much happening right now that reminds him of their night in Vegas – the fumbling with clothes and heated kisses against walls as heat continues to simmer below his skin – but he knows this is different.
She knows it, too, which may be the best part of all.
A lifetime ago, he’d have despised himself for thinking things like that when a woman was undressing in front of him, but that was the past. This here and now? It’s better.
They’ve made it to his bedroom now, and his heart beats in a heavy pattern while his erection is tenting his sweatpants. It’s incredibly uncomfortable at this point, but he doesn’t intend to rush this. Not when things are so tentative and not when he’s been waiting for this moment.
“Oh my God,” Emma groans.
“Darling, I don’t think that’s the way you’re supposed to say those words in this particular situation. It’s supposed to sound a tad more…pleasant.”
“I can’t get my damn sports bra off.” “What?” Killian laughs, backing away from her to look at her as she tugs on her bra.
“I’m sweaty. Or, like, I was. I literally ran here. I can’t fucking get it off.”
His laughter keeps bubbling in his chest, mixing in with the heat between his legs and his focus on getting some kind of relief, but Emma is standing in his bedroom, half-naked, and she can’t get her damn bra off.
“I am probably the sexiest woman you’ve ever slept with, right?”
“Aye,” Killian says, completely serious. He steps forward and leans down to press his lips to her collarbone as he tugs the material of her bra up. It is stuck, but with a little willpower, he pulls it up and off of Emma until it’s falling to the ground so that she’s bare to him. “You are.”
Her cheeks flush red, and that flush moves down toward her breasts. It’s a beautiful sight with which he cannot wait to become more acquainted.  
“Shut up and get on the bed.”
“So demanding, lass.”
She rolls her eyes. “I don’t know about you, but I ran a few miles to get here, and I think I’m running on limited time before my body decides to stop working.”
“I haven’t slept more than four hours a night in two weeks.”
“So this is about to be really good sex then?”
“Aye, absolutely.”
Emma falls back onto the bed, and Killian cages her in, moving his mouth of hers and licking into her mouth while his fingers trail down her body, one hand palming her breast while the other finds the slickness between her thighs. He groans at the feeling, at knowing this is for him, and it doesn’t take long before her thighs are quivering from his ministrations. She’s very nearly there, her back arched off the bed, and this is better than any and all of his memories.
“Condom,” Emma pants. “Get a fucking condom.”
“I – ”
“Please do not make the joke I know you’re going to make.”
Killian huffs and curls his fingers inside of her once more before pulling out and leaving a soft kiss to her inner thigh, watching as her skin twitches with his touch. He quickly gets the condom from the box in his bedside drawer, rolling it on and wondering why the hell that takes so long, before he moves to hover over Emma again. She doesn’t let him, though, encouraging him to lay on his back as she straddles his hips and curls her fingers into his chest hair.
“This is a new side of you, love.”
“I’ve got a few of those.”
He arches a brow. “Really, now?”
“Hold your horses, tiger. One at a time. I’m not some kind of contortionist energizer bunny.”
He bites his cheek, a comeback on the tip of his tongue, but then Emma is guiding him into her, the warmth of her surrounding him, and all of the breath leaves his body at the feel of her.
Bloody hell.
He can already feel his release licking at his spine, but it’s too soon. There’s so much left to be done, and he’s not some teenage boy who’s going to fall apart at first touch.
Emma looks ethereal above him, even under the harsh lighting of his bedroom, and he watches as her eyelashes flutter against her cheeks and a smile curves at her lips. And then she starts moving. It’s slow and steady at first, the both of them testing each other out, but then his hands grab onto her hips and she really starts moving.
It’s like nothing he’s ever experienced before. “You’re absolutely everything,” he breathes. “Bloody magnificent.”
“Killian, I – ”
He nods and leans up to wrap his arms around her back, pulling her toward him so their chests brush together, and then he’s carefully flipping them around, slipping out of her for a moment before slamming back in. They’re both almost there, bodies shaking and breaths gone, and he’s purposeful with his thrusts and with the way he moves his hand where they’re joined until Emma sucks in a sharp breath and begins to fall, becoming more glorious by the second. He works her through it, letting her wide out the waves, but then he starts fucking her in earnest until his own release is thrumming at the base of his spine and working through him.
Killian collapses on top of her, crushing her with his weight before propping himself up on his elbows so he can look down at her and the absolutely goofy grin on her face. He’d like to see that more often.
“Better than the first time, aye?”
Emma laughs and reaches up to push his sweat-soaked hair off his forehead. “It’s not a competition, but yeah, better than the first.”
Killian huffs and falls to her side, quickly pulling off the condom and tying it before dumping it into the trash. “You should show up to my apartment more often then.”
Emma turns on the bed and reaches around to pull the comforter up over her. He grabs it and helps tug it up over both of them while Emma inches closer to him, leaning down and kissing his collarbone. He could go again if his body would let him, the adrenaline giving him more energy than he’s had in weeks, but it’s not going to last long.
“Was it really just that you were busy?” Emma asks. “It wasn’t – ”
Killian adjusts his arm under her shoulder and trails his fingers down her back while his other hand tries to smooth back some of her hair. “I should have made time for you. I wanted to. I will from now on. Love, I promise that it wasn’t because the annulment papers came in. I, well…”
“What?”
“I was happy when they came in. It felt like a weight lifted off my shoulders, but a part of me was also terrified that you’d have nothing to do with me now that we had no reason to still be talking.”
Emma’s lips fall open before snapping shut. “I felt the same way.” 
“Yeah?”
She nods her head, looking at him with a small smile, before letting her head fall back against the pillow. Their noses are so close they’re almost touching.
The freckles on her cheeks are mesmerizing.
“If you haven’t worn me out, because I definitely plan on the two of us doing that again, I will go running with you in the morning.”
“What about training? Aren’t you exhausted?”
“Aye, but I think I’ll be able to survive. I’m a survivor, Swan. I also think I owe you a smoothie.”
“You owe me about ten smoothies.”
Killian chuckles and closes his eyes before opening them back up to the brilliant shade of green of Emma’s eyes. “I think I can handle that.”
“So, Jones,” she whispers, her own lips threatening to turn into a smile far brighter than the small one she’s been keeping since they started talking in the afterglow of it all, “I think we should go on a date.”
His brow arches. He wasn’t expecting that. He should have been, but they’re all sorts of messy right now. He’s not even exactly sure what he should be expecting when it comes to Emma.
He can’t wait to find out.
“Aren’t I supposed to be the one asking you out?”
“You are so old-fashioned.”
“Now, darling, I believe I fucked you, married you, annulled that marriage, fucked you again, and then agreed to date you. In that order. What could possibly be old-fashioned about that?”
Emma chuckles and leans forward to kiss him again. He wants to get used to that. “Did you agree to me asking you out? I don’t remember hearing that.”
Her eyes roll. She’s exasperated by him, but it’s not like it was at the beginning. It’s not true annoyance. It’s something entirely different.
Better.
Definitely, definitely better.
“I’d love to go on a date with you, Emma Swan.”
“Good.”
-/-
-/-
They get married three years later.
It’s pouring down rain, a July storm coming in and surprising everyone, and Killian can barely hear David officiating the ceremony over the sound of the water hitting the ground around him and flooding into the Charles river. They wanted to do it by the damn bench that’s paint was messed up from the man sitting on wet paint all those years ago, had planned on it for a few weeks now, only to show up today and find that the city had finally fixed the bench after three years of it being messed up.
All of the signs were there for them to cancel these plans. There’s no special meaning to today, simply a date they picked on the calendar that was close enough to the day they met and fit their schedules, and they could have changed it when they found out it was going to rain.
Emma didn’t want to.
He didn’t either.
Killian’s wearing his dress uniform, and Emma has on a short, emerald green dress that hugs her curves and is driving him mad every time he looks at her. They were already dressed when it started pouring, and they both pretty much said what the hell. Why not? That’s kind of been their motto through the whole thing.  
They’re both wearing wellies.  
As are all of their friends.
They look ridiculous. He knows that they do, but he wouldn’t have it any other way when it comes to the love of his life and her happiness.
Neither of them ever wanted to legitimately get married, not after everything, but it’s funny how things change when you find the right person who’s willing to wade deep into the waters of life with you.
It’s funny how things change when you meet a woman whose eyes are another kind of green.
-/-
-/-
tag list: @xemmaloveskillianx​ @therealstartraveller776​ @stahlop @shardminds @carpedzem @captainsjedi  @galaxyzxstark @thejollyroger-writer @kmomof4 @tiganasummertree @xellewoods @idristardis @karenfrommisthaven @shireness-says @scientificapricot @captswanis4vr @a-faekindagirl @ultimiflos @jamif @dreameronarooftop15 @nikkiemms @resident-of-storybrooke  @bmbbcs4evr @onceuponaprincessworld @jennjenn615 @mayquita @teamhook @kmomof4 @ekr032-blog-blog @superchocovian @ultraluckycatnd @cs-forlife @andiirivera @qualitycoffeethings @jonirobinson64 @mariakov81 @spartanguard @snowbellewells  @onepunintendid​ @bluewildcatfanatic​
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applepiry · 3 years
Text
Fluffvember Day 6
Takes place in 3rd year around Christmas time!
All characters are 18+
!!! As this is inspired by my character Sade, while it is gender neutral, the powers “you” possess are Sade’s, and your history is hers. She is in an arranged marriage which she hates but has no control over. !!! 
Todoroki and the Bakusquad are all your best friends!
However~ Contains KirishimaxAchiya!Reader ;)
Contains: Kissing, flirting, swearing, jealousy, technically cheating? 
Word Count: 1180
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“I can’t stop a blizzard,” you say, starting to get annoyed with your two friends as they whine about the upcoming weather. “I control hurricanes. They are totally different,” you insist. 
Kaminari just glares at you, “Oh, are they!?” he says, freaking out due to the announcement that over 10 feet of snow was heading their way.
“Are you sure?” Mina whines.
“Very much so,” you tell them, chuckling a bit.
“Shut the hell up, you idiots!” Katsuki yells, trying to watch the tv.
“It’s only depressing us!” Mina whines as she crawls into your lap, you playing with her pink hair. It had been a comfort to you since you had joined UA, earlier in the year. 
Kaminari went to your other side, cuddling up into you with a whine as well. “Bakugou is yelling at us,” he sniffled. 
You used your other hand to play with his hair to comfort him. You just enjoy playing with others' hair, and had always been this way with Todoroki, your only friend before meeting the students of UA, so it was normal to you. Although, it was a sign of affection for you since you didn’t let strangers even touch you, even if they did have nice hair.
Bakugou turned around and growled at the three of you, “Well if you would SHUT IT!” he snapped, glaring at Kaminari extra hard for being cuddled up with you. Beside your left side was usually his sitting spot, and being a creature of habit, he hated when someone else took that habit away from him. 
Sero came into the common area with Jiro and Kirishima following behind him, “What’s all the commotion, amigos?” he wondered with his signature smile. 
“Yeah we heard Bakubro yelling and figured we would see what was up!” Kirishima said with a grin. Looking towards you, your eyes locked for a second before you hastily looked away. Kirishima felt jealous that Kaminari was cuddled so close to you, so casual... So, he made his way into the area before plopping down right on the floor between your legs. 
“I’m just trying to watch the fucking tv! They won’t shut up!” Bakugou yelled.
“Just turn it up,” Jiro said, rolling her eyes as Bakugou began turning it to full volume out of pure spite.
“Oh is this about the blizzard? That’s why we were told to stay inside this weekend,” Sero said with a shrug, indifferent to the weather. He came over and sat on the other side of Mina, placing his arm on the back of the couch as he relaxed. 
“Yes, Mina and Kami want me to stop it,” you reply.
“Can you do that?” Kirishima asked, looking up at you from his spot between your legs. 
“No,” you stated clearly, glancing between the pink haired girl and blond boy, “But they don’t want to listen,” you say, rubbing the back of your neck with a sigh.
“I am listening, I just want you to stop it,” Mina retorted.
You laugh a bit, loving her for this exact reason. She was so amazing, so kind to you, thinking you could do anything. “Maybe if I had a kid with Todoroki, they could control Blizzards!” you say jokingly.
Everyone stares at you, feeling the two deepest stares from Bakugou and Kirishima, knowing exactly where their gazes were boring into you. Even though both had crimson eyes, their gazes were completely different, and you could tell they were both studying your face to see if you were joking. 
“Ha! Good joke,” Jiro said, breaking the awkward silence.
Sero, Mina and Kaminari began laughing at your joke after a minute once they saw your face, which was not serious. 
Bakugou looked away when he could tell you were joking, “What a stupid joke,” he complained, deciding to change the channel, trying to find something more interesting.
Kirishima looked a bit hurt and uncertain, he wanted to assume you were joking, but were you?
“I bet your kid totally could,” Mina said with a grin and a gentle nudge, which made Kirishima frown.
“Can you imagine how powerful your kids with Todoroki would be?!” Kaminari said, thinking about how crazy it would be if the kid had all four of the quirks you two possessed.
Kirishima got up suddenly and took off towards the elevator, not wanting to be a part of this conversation anymore. 
“Was it something I said?” Kaminari wondered blankly, having gotten just a bit less dense as he grew older, but not much. 
Gently, you move Mina from your lap before getting up and going after him, feeling the glare of Bakugou on your back as you go. You didn’t care, though, Kirishima was your friend too. Sure, you and Bakugou had a weird closeness, but he couldn’t control who you hung out with. You did not let people control you… besides your parents, but you had no choice with them. Not yet. 
Slipping into the elevator before it closed, Kirishima did not even notice you until you spoke. 
“Kiri?” you ask quietly
“Oh, erm… What are you doing here?,” he said, his normally energetic voice soft and sad.
“I wanted to check on you… you seemed upset…” you say, rubbing your arm nervously. “Sorry, if I’m just bothering you.”
“No, it’s not that… You could never bother me! I just am not being manly right now!” he said, looking away again as he clenched his fists, “And I don’t want you to see this side of me…” he murmured.
Swallowing hard, you grab his shoulder and make him turn around, quickly leaning in and pressing your lips against his. Surprisingly, they’re extremely soft. But before you can melt into the kiss, he pulls away. 
“Aren’t you engaged?” he asked, pain in his voice.
“I hate them,” you say, your own voice aching, “If I become a hero on my own… I can.. Escape.. And not have to be with them!” you say, your voice shaking. You hadn’t expected to be so raw with him, right now, in the elevator. 
Suddenly, you’re in his arms and he’s holding you tightly, his body shaking. Is he crying? You wonder to yourself, but quickly push away the thought. It didn’t matter, anyway. Wrapping your arms around him, melting into his body.
“I really like you…!” he said, his voice strained from his obvious crying.
“I like you too, Eiji,” you whisper, just holding him like this until the elevator door dinged, signaling its stop and doors opening.
Quickly to make sure no one saw, he pulled you into his room, locking the door behind you two. “Can I.. hold you..?” he asked, a bit nervous.
“Yeah,” you said with a smile, going to his bed and patting your lap, to which he quickly appears, stretching out a bit with his head is in your lap. 
“Can I play with your hair…?” you wonder.
Kirishima had never been so glad he hadn’t spiked his hair up, on this very snowy day, the rest of which he got to spend alone with you.
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ashintheairlikesnow · 4 years
Text
Dad Fluff: Ohana
A followup to this very short drabble about Mina drawing a family photo! 
CW: Vague references to Danny’s past torture, but nothing specific. Brief referenced to enforced malnourishment/near starvation.
“You’re officially obs-… obsessing,” Nate says softly, dropping onto the couch next to Danny, leaning over and tilting his head to try and get a better look at his face. “L-Love, talk to me. You’ve been looking at th-th-the picture she drew for… longer than can be g-good for you.”
“I wasn’t in the picture,” Danny whispers, still holding it in his hands. Looking at the stick-figure attempts to draw Nate and Mina herself and even Toto, a ball of black and brown squiggles with eyes. “I don’t know why, why she wouldn’t-”
“Danny,” Nate says seriously, taking the paper from his hands and turning it over. “You are the p-p-picture. Look at you, here.” He points, tapping his finger against the drawing with a soft crackling sound as the paper shifts in his hand. “You’re so… you are s-s-such the center of her life that she didn’t have en, enough room to draw you if you didn’t have your very own s-side.”
Danny’s lips press slowly together, and he nods, but he doesn’t look convinced. “I never drew myself in, um, in the pictures, either,” He says, finally. “I used to draw Mom and Dad and Ryan on one side, and… and, um, then myself over in the corner or on another paper, because that’s how it felt-… sometimes I didn’t draw me at all…”
“Danny.” Nate set the drawing down entirely, laying it carefully on the coffee table, taking Danny’s hands in his. “Look at me, love. Please.”
Danny’s jaw is locked but trembling as he raises his eyes, slowly, to meet Nate’s.
They’re both older, and stronger, and Nate likes to think wiser, but Danny’s eyes are still the same. Bright sparkling blue, the only time in his life Nate has seen the color blue and called it warm. His freckles have deepened with time, rather than faded, and Nate lifts one hand to cup his face, rubbing a thumb slowly over an old scar on his cheek, feeling the shift in skin texture under his touch. 
“This is n-not that family.” Nate keeps his voice gentle but firm, not quite insistent. Danny nods, but he’s scared, and the fear shows through even when he tries to hide it. He’s never been a good liar, and he’s a worse liar with Nate. “I kn-know we all bring things from our childhoods-… but we are not your parents. And Mina is not Ryan, and she isn’t y-you, either.”
“It just felt like-”
“Like you weren’t part of us,” Nate says softly, and Danny nods. Nate sighs and slides his hand down Danny’s neck, over the hints of scarring there, then curves his palm around Danny’s shoulder, pulling him close. Wavy red hair tickles against the side of his neck as Danny’s tension collapses. “This is your family, Danny. We w-worked hard to build it. We… we worked so hard to get the fucking ch-chance to build it. This is our f-family. And you’re her whole world.”
“She drew my scars. She drew them in bright red, they’re what she sees, it’s all anyone ever sees, is what h-he left on me-”
“Ssssshhhhh. I know that was h-hard to see.” Nate closes his eyes, tries to remember what he and Dr. Rosa had talked about when it came to helping Danny through his dark moments, encouraging him to keep talking, to pull himself back. “Did you h-hear what she called them?”
“My… my pretty marks,” Danny whispers, and Nate begins to run his thumb on Danny’s shoulder through his long-sleeved shirt, thinking of doing this in Alberta, feeling the shift of bones under his thumb when Danny had so little weight at all. Now there is a gentle roundness, strength he’d rebuilt in himself year by year. “She called them pretty marks.”
“There. She didn’t see them as bad, D-Danny, she just sees them as part of you. The same way she calls that weird thing on your hip your ‘blue spot’.”
“It… it is an actual blue spot on my hip, though,” Danny says doubtfully. “I stabbed myself with a marker at the last group home before Mom… It is a blue spot.”
“And your marks are p-pretty to her.”
“I just… it hurts, to see me not in the picture again, Nate.”
“I know. But she’s n-not you. She didn’t d-d-do that because she didn’t think you belonged with us, but because she c-c-couldn’t fit how important y-you were when the rest of us were in the way.” Nate’s efforts are rewarded with a nearly-silent huff of laughter from the man in his arms. “I know it’s h-hard not to bring it with you… I sometimes want to g-go to confession and I haven’t b-been Catholic since I was s-s-seventeen…”
“What’d you confess to?” Danny asks, curling more against him, and Nate sighs with a kind of relief as he pulls him closer. “Just… sucking dick?”
“Yes.”
Danny blinks and pulls back, looking up at Nate with surprise. “Did you actually? To a priest?”
Nate grins, and watches Danny’s internal battle between his need to still be sad over the injury in his mind and the idea of a sixteen-year-old Nate Vandrum talking about blowjobs in the confessional booth. “Couple of t-t-times. Some oth, other stuff, too. I was a really bad C-Catholic.”
“If you did it and still went to confession, you might actually have been a pretty good one,” Danny says, and the two of them break up into relieved laughter, Danny’s hands splaying over his face not to hide his scars but just to hide his smile.
“Danny, you are M-Mina’s family. You’re w-w-with her every day, all day-”
“-Except during Mom’s Morning Out, which, I really wish they’d change the name of that fucking group-”
“… let me finish, D-Danny. Mina wants for nothing. She is warm, and fed, and educated, and clothed, and l-l-loved.”
“I was most of those things,” Danny says, softly, but he’s coming back, Nate can tell. Pulling himself out of the spiral inside his mind, starting to feel more present, less like he slipped beneath the surface of a dark pool. 
“You were some of th-them all of the t-t-time, but you never had them all, all of the t-t-time. And she does. You were the one who brought up adoption, you are the one who taught her the alphabet, you were the one to d-d-decide we weren’t going to watch those episodes I d-d-downloaded of Mister Rogers any longer and we’d let her watch s-s-something made in the last ten years-”
“I still watch them,” Danny says, softly. At Nate’s raised eyebrows, he shrugs. “Call it my confession. Forgive me, Father, for I have watched educational children’s programming from the eighties-”
“Hey, now. Some of us recovering Catholics like the ‘Forgive me, Father’ stuff, but… I’m n-n-not one of them.”
Danny flashes him a bright smile, and Nate feels an absurd sense of victory. He wants to raise his hands in triumph. He settles for pulling Danny in for a kiss. 
“Sorry, Professor,” Danny murmurs against his mouth.
“Now, see, I l-like you calling me Professor…”
Danny laughs, softly. “Put your tie and jacket on and I’ll take it right back off you again, Professor Vandrum. But… I… I get it. She drew me bigger than everyone else because I am important. And she probably thought, since it’s the same paper, that it still counted as being all together…”
“Kids tend to d-d-draw themselves larger than they really a-are, compared to other people,” Nate says softly. “If they feel secure, and s-safe. You saw how big M-Mina drew herself.”
“Right. Bigger than you,” Danny says, blinking, looking back down at the paper. “And I was the biggest person.”
“I h-hate admitting this, but you’re the one she g-g-goes to first when she’s scared, or hurt, or has a n-nightmare or feels sick to her stomach. You’re the one she asks for juice and ah, applesauce. That’s all you, Danny. You’re not part of our family, you are our family. We built every single thing we have because of you. You chose me-”
“-… was made for you…” Danny murmurs, and then stops when Nate shakes his head.
“No, love. You chose me, and didn’t l-let go. You chose to say y-yes when I asked. You chose to agree when Mina’s birthmom liked us in our profiles. You chose Toto at the H-Humane Society, you chose every single thing we are. You built your own f-f-family, love, and she can’t picture us without seeing you as b-b-bigger than everyone else.”
Danny nods slowly, rubbing at his face, at his eyes, leaning over to rest his elbows on his knees. “Yeah… yeah, okay.”
“I know this is hard for y-you, love, and always will be, but… this is your family. You, and I, and Mina… and Toto… and, fuck, even your brother.”
Danny’s smile widens. “What do you think he’ll say if I send him a photo of what Mina drew and tell him she called them ‘pretty marks’?”
Nate shakes his head, leaning over to hold Danny’s face in one hand again, kissing his forehead, feeling the worry-wrinkles smooth under his mouth. “He’ll say, ‘it’s ab, about time someone other than Vandrum and I noticed you’re gorgeous’,” He says, softly.
Danny snorted. “He’s never called me gorgeous in my life or his.”
“Not to your face.”
Danny’s smile is infectious, and Nate pulls him in for a kiss knowing the tightrope has been walked, they’ve cleared the worst part of the shadows that threatened to sink their claws in - at least for now. 
They’ll have this conversation again, in a hundred different ways, every time something pushes Danny towards the fears and worries built by a lifetime of having to earn the love that should have been his birthright. They’ll have it every time Danny is reminded or forced to relive years spent desperately trying to earn the mercy of a man hellbent on his slow, inexorable destruction. 
But they have the foundation. They’ve laid the path, together. When one of them falters, the other holds the weight, until they can find their own way out. That is their marriage, and has always been, and will always be.
That is Danny’s family.
“It’s sm-small, and b-b-broken, but we made it ourselves,” Nate murmurs, and Danny lets out a peal of surprised laughter, loud enough that Nate shushes him, worried about waking Mina so soon after she’s fallen asleep. 
“Did you just quote Lilo and Stitch at me?”
“No.” Danny raises an eyebrow, and Nate puts his hands up in surrender. “I quoted it to m-myself!”
“No, it’s fine, I like that movie, you know I do.” Danny slides arms around his waist, holding him tightly. 
After a few beats of silence, Danny says softly, “Ohana means family, Professor Vandrum.”
“Family m-means nobody gets left behind.”
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cherrybloomn · 4 years
Text
Delicate - Chapter 3
Note: ok Chapter 3 is here. Your opinion is always welcomed (criticism included!). Its my first stoey ever so please be kind. I know I have much to work on, but I hope that it will get better and better.
I would like to thank very (VERY) much @musings-sans-muse and @shellbilee for your support, help, ideas, everything! You girls rock!!
Thank you @oddsnendsfanfics for your encouragement!
Warnings: swearing
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April 2020
 
Naomi spent the whole March shooting her show in Berlin (as there was a theatre festival) and preparing the charity event for children. She managed to schedule everything– the place (Hyde Park), the catering, the guests. Obviously, everything was cancelled due to coronavirus restrictions. Everyone was forbidden to go to the tv studio, so Naomi worked on the new scripts of the episodes, watched movies, wrote reviews of new plays, etc.
Since their last lunch, Naomi had been regularly in touch with Henry, mostly via WhatsApp. They have met a couple of times. The more she talked with him, the more she liked him. He made her laugh. But not only that. He seemed to care about others, yet had this reasonable attitude - often saying that you can’t change the world alone.
She valued him for being the voice of reason. They have known each other for only two months, yet she told him a lot about her family and difficult relationship with her father (who was a real - life spitting image of Logan Roy from The Succession), her issues with James, her weird fascinations of criminal stories about murderers and disappearances and the II World War.
One day she had just come home and put the groceries on the kitchen island, when her phone buzzed. She picked up the video call. Henry. The thought of seeing his face and talking to him always shifted her mood. “Hello boy. Give me a moment I need to wash my hands. I’ve just been out in a bad, bad store.” She giggled and headed to the bathroom with her phone, placing it next to the sink.
“Of course. I can see your tits now, by the way. No worries though, I enjoy the view.” He chuckled lightly. Naomi rolled her eyes and quickly moved the phone to the higher counter. She took a minute to study Henry’s face. Something was off. She couldn’t tell if he looked sad or tired. It was off though. She was wondering why. In this very moment she also realized that he was one of very few people, who were… important to her. Not in a romantic kind of way. No. Naomi didn’t date, she didn’t want to build a relationship with any man, not anymore. Still, he was important. 
“Helloo..” Henry waved his hand from the other side of the screen.
“I’m sorry. I thought of my round, perfect, little tits. Changing the awkward subject, how are you doing in times of isolation? You look tired. Is everything ok?” Naomi dried her hands with a towel, grabbed her phone and headed to the kitchen. She placed her phone on the kitchen island, leant on her elbows and focused on the phone screen.
“I’m fine. A bit anxious I think. Not my best day today. That’s why I’m calling. I expect to hear some entertaining story about your crazy childhood.”
She laughed, and thought for a moment. “I’m not in the mood today. You know, I almost got a role in the Moulin Rouge musical in the Old Vic. I mean I did get the part of Satine, and I was so excited, as it would be my debut after all these years. Unfortunately, they called today that due to the lockdown, the project has been entirely called off.” She shrugged “At least Netflix doesn’t disappoint. There’s the Money Heist premiere today.”
After a second she added “Join me today! Look I know it’s illegal, alright? But I can promise we will keep the two – meter distance. I can offer you good whiskey and whatever meal the chosen restaurant could provide. Except for pizza and other carbo shit. I’m on a low-carbo diet. You know I’d love to say I’m one of those women who can eat everything because they’re so cool and don’t care about their looks or have a wonderful metabolism. But unfortunately, I’m not them. My metabolism is my enemy and I do fucking care about how I look because the CEO of BBN asks about my weight like once a month.” She smiled at him “So, take it or leave it.”
“I take it. I can cook something if you want. Oh, can I take Kal with me?”
“Cooking – ok. Sounds cool. Kal – Henry, in general of course. But you need to keep in mind I’ve got two Pomeranians – and as much as they love people and small dogs, they sometimes hate the big ones. So, bring Kal with you and in case there’s war, I’ll take Marilyn and Audrey to my neighbor.”
They discussed the details about the dogs’ meeting and decided to meet at 6 pm. Naomi took her time to call her mum and friends, take her dogs for a walk and take a shower. Afterwards she applied a bit of makeup, put on her black Nike leggings and white tank top. She let her hair loose so that it could dry quickly. Just after she poured herself a glass of water, her phone buzzed and Henry informed, he’s waiting outside with Kal. Naomi called her dogs and all of them headed to the small park near her apartment. Naomi couldn’t stop laughing when she spotted Henry with the Salvador Dali mask on – a kind of tribute to Money Heist, which they were going to watch.
Unfortunately, just as Naomi thought, there was no love between Kal and Marylin. At least Audrey accepted the big bear immediately. Naomi decided to take Marylin to her neighbor, and the rest of them headed to her place.
Much to Naomi’s surprise, Henry cooked a delicious dinner, and they spent the whole evening watching five episodes of the Netflix series. Being her kittenish self, Naomi gently touched Henry’s knee with her toes from time to time. “Heey… relax.” She said with a smile. “I can tell you something nice, wanna hear?”
Henry raised his eyebrow and looked at her with a smirk “Go on, entertain me.” He gently rubbed her ankle with one hand, the other one was supported on the back of the sofa.
“Alright..” Naomi closed her eyes for a moment and enjoyed the delicate massage. Finally she looked him in the eyes. She smiled shyly and turned her face away, “Henry.. Do remind me please, is your dad a boxer?” She asked coyly.
Henry seemed a bit puzzled “No, no. Have I ever said that he was?”
“Well no...but damn, I’m asking because you’re such a knockout!”.
They both burst out with laughter.
“What a cheesy pickup line, I love it! Where do you know that from?”
Naomi started to play with her hair “Well, it happens to me all the time” she joked. “It’s nice to see you laughing.” She added after a second.
At around 3 a.m. they decided it was really late, so they were to terminate their evening with just one glass of Jack Daniels (due to her diet Naomi didn’t drink alcohol, but promised to have a goodbye drink).
Naomi brought two glasses to the living room and sat on the sofa. Henry was sitting on the opposite side. Once Naomi extended her hand and handled him a glass of whiskey, he slowly grabbed the glass with one hand and held her wrist with another. “What a massive rock!” He said, looking closely at her two - carat diamond engagement ring. He gently caressed her knuckles with his thumb. His touch, ever so gentle made Naomi shiver. Something about it felt so wrong and so right at the same time. “Has James proposed to you? I had no idea”. Henry let go of her hand and supported himself on the back of the sofa.
 “No, of course not. It’s an engagement ring I was given by my husband. I often wear it.” Naomi didn’t like to talk about her marriage with anyone. She felt very comfortable with Henry and they talked about many personal things, but she never mentioned her married life.
Henry slowly nodded. “You never talk about your marriage.” He took a sip of his drink and after a couple of seconds asked “Do you still love him?”
Naomi zoned out for a second, focusing her eyes on the floor. Her hand tried to retrace Henry’s touch on her knuckles. This touch. So delicate. It was one of the most intimate moments she’s ever experienced. Why was it so intimate - she didn’t know. She had had a lot of sex lately. Mostly with James. James never touched her this way. Why? Why had nobody ever touched her this way, she thought.
“Naomi.” Henry’s low, but soft voice snatched her out of her thoughts. She looked at him with slightly parted lips. What were they talking about? Oh, right. Her ex-husband.
“Do I love my husband? Because I wear the engagement ring? No. Not at all. I just love expensive jewellery with big diamonds.” She chuckled looking at her engagement ring. “That’s the secret. But no. I have no feelings for my ex - husband. As for why I don’t talk about my marriage, there’s just nothing to talk about. I was 20, he was 34 at that time we got married. I wanted to be an actress, he was a serious entrepreneur. I wanted to run away from my mum, who was trying to take over my whole life, and he was looking for a young woman to build a home with. At some point it didn’t work out. We had a nasty divorce and division of assets. He then moved to Moscow, and as far as I know he still lives there. The end.”
Naomi refilled Henry’s glass with whisky, Naomi willed herself to focus back on the conversation and not on the ghost of his touch that lingered on her skin. “What about your love life, Mr. One Hundred Questions to Naomi Poesy?” She asked and winked at him.
“You know how it is Naomi. It’s just hard to get involved with someone, if you have this kind of job. It’s all about either accepting my schedule and traveling with me, or building a long – distance relationship. It hardly ever works. Also…”
Naomi suddenly held her right hand up in a stop gesture. “I’m sorry, but I just have to interrupt here. That sounds like you’re trying to find a justification. I mean – and I’m really sorry for sharing my opinion unasked – but building any relationship is hard in general. Do you really think your situation is any different from a situation of CEOS or anyone who has a career, money and power? The scale may be different but the issues are all the same. I mean a CEO of a big insurance company does have the very same problems. He asks the same questions - if his new other half is with him because of his status, money, position or because she’s in love. And the schedule thing – sure it’s hard to build a relationship when you’re on the set for a couple of months and it literally consumes all of your time. Trust me though, it’s not easier if you work as a physician or a lawyer, or if you work in a big tv corporation like I do. Instead of being on the set for a couple of months, people work their asses off every day, because they have loans to pay, plans to realize. And they usually don’t have any breaks. The fact that you get back home to your other half after 9 pm does not necessarily make your relationship better. It’s just the matter of what you’re expecting from a relationship.”
Henry just nodded and added after a moment “I just want to have a family of my own.”
“Well. But this is not the answer to the question of what you are expecting from a relationship. I mean, obviously everyone wants to start a family. The question is – what does it mean to you? Some want to start a family because they hate to be lonely, some feel like they need to take care of others, and some just feel like it makes them feel complete. You know sometimes you meet the person you resonate with, you feel the great chemistry with, but it just doesn’t work because of lots of other factors like the timing, circumstances etc. So, what I mean is that you really need to know what you expect from your partner so that you can fight for it.” She thought about what she said for a minute “Hm.. it sounded much wiser in my head before I verbalized it.”
Henry laughed and looked her in the eyes licking his lips. That gentle touch. After a few seconds of glancing at each other she smiled at him and shyly turned her face away. “Ok, enough. Don’t try to charm me here.” She grabbed her phone from the coffee table. “Man, it’s 4 am! I’m not surprised I’m bubbling something half intelligent. I should be sleeping already, I have promised to help Sarah tomorrow morning. This morning. If you want to you can stay, I have a guest room and a spare toothbrush.”
“Thank you, but I guess I better get back home.” He grabbed his phone and ordered an Uber. “I just have to say” he started as they both stood up and headed towards the hall. “You are so tiny without high heels!”
She laughed “No shit Sherlock.”
“No, but seriously. I wanted to say” he stopped there and looked at Kal. It seemed like he was fighting with his thoughts whether to verbalize what he wanted to say or not. “I really like spending time with you.”
Naomi crossed her arms over her chest. “I don’t date Cavill.” She said with a smile.
Henry just nodded and leaned towards her, so close that their faces were just inches away, and said “Well, pity.” He chuckled and leaned even closer to give her a goodbye kiss on a cheek “Bye, girl. Get some sleep.” He then took a step away and called for Kal, who was already bouncing on his legs ready to go.
Naomi reached to open the front door for them, but instead of doing it, she turned towards Henry and leaned against the door. She noticed his clenched jaw, then placed her eyes on his lips and eyes. She slowly grabbed the drawstring of his hood with her right hand and wrapped it around her fingers. “Hey.. I don’t, but what would you do if I did date…?” she asked playfully. She bit her bottom lip in anticipation.
“Naomi..” Henry smiled lightly at her, and tenderly touched her cheek, moving his fingers from her cheekbone through her lips to her chin. He was slowly studying her face. Naomi looked at him stunned, her lips parted, she was not expecting that.
“I’m 37. I’m too old to play this game. Please, don’t play with me.” He stroked her cheek once more with his index finger and stepped back. He fastened Kal’s leash. In the meantime Naomi unlocked the door and moved back.
“Goodbye” He gave her a warm smile and left.
Naomi quickly closed the door and tried to understand what had just happened. She felt all the emotions at once - arousal, humiliation, sadness, anger, happiness. She brushed her fingers through her cheek. That gentle touch. She took a deep breath. In her entire life Naomi had always been the “tough guy” - first in ballet school, at home, when her mother suffered from depression, and Naomi had to take care of her mother and her brother, then drama school. Establishing her position in television was not easy either. Oh, and her marriage. She was just a girl when she got married and her older husband always knew better. The random men she fucked after she got divorced. James. They all wanted to have her, possess her. And she kind of liked it. It made her feel attractive and in charge. But that touch was somethings new.
Naomi felt the tears welling in her eyes, as if for the first time in her life, she experienced such a gentle touch. And it felt so good.
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dudeandduchess · 4 years
Text
Love Her [Shinazugawa Sanemi x F!Reader] Chapter 3
Rating: SFW Characters: Shinazugawa Sanemi x Former Pillar F!Reader Chapters: 3/5 Summary: Opposites really do attract, but that sentiment ran deeper than weird quirks and personality clashes for Sanemi and his lover. This is a collection of short stories depicting Sanemi’s life with the woman with whom his life began and ended. Word Count: 1,867 Tags: Smut, Making Out, Awkward Sexual Situations, Genya is a Cockblock, Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Soft Sanemi, Handjobs, Biting, Scratching, Caught in the Act, Heartfelt Confessions, Emotional Moments (More tags to be added soon.)
***SFW***
“Oi, you shitty dog,” Sanemi hissed irately, as his eyes narrowed at the other end of the leash he was holding.
And, as if knowing that mean man was talking to him, Taro looked up from where he was sniffing the ground, and turned his attention to Sanemi.
“Hurry the fuck up.”
Silence answered the Wind Hashira’s demand, as Taro sniffed and turned his head away from him.
Anger bubbled up within Sanemi, but he reigned it in since he knew that (Y/n) would not hesitate to throw him in the river if he hurt her precious dog. He didn’t even want to take the damn creature out for a walk, but he had no choice.
It was either he took Taro out, or he suffered through one of her soft-spoken, but extremely lengthy lectures about the proper way to wash his clothes.
He didn’t want that. Hell, he wouldn’t even subject a demon through that degree of torture.
Sanemi loved (Y/n) with all his heart, but her lectures were a lot to take it. They made him feel so guilty, that he didn’t have the heart to even get mad at her during the whole ordeal. He couldn’t refute her words, nor could he defend himself as she wrecked his whole system of doing things ‘like he had always done’.
Then again, she did have a point with her lectures. Because putting one’s clothes in a wooden basin, pouring soap and water in it, and stomping all over it did not count as a good washing method.
Plus, he liked the way his clothes smelled when (Y/n) washed them.
In fact, he liked it whenever (Y/n) stayed at his house, because she made it feel so warm and welcoming. She made it feel like a home.
So maybe it was time to finally make things official with her…
“Maybe we could leave your ass at her parents’ house,” The Hashira sneered at Taro, before snickering at the thought of his well-deserved privacy with (Y/n).
However, he knew that his fantasy was nothing but that; an idle fantasy. (Y/n) would never willingly leave Taro behind. He was sure that if it came down to it, the first thing she would grab out of a burning house was the damn dog.
He didn’t hate the thing; he just really, reallydisliked it for being a cockblock.
“Oh, what’s this?” The hairs on the back of Sanemi’s neck bristled at the lilting tone that assaulted his ears. (Y/n) had a gentle lilt to her voice as well, but it wasn’t as flakily sweet as Shinobu’s; which was good, because the Insect Hashira creeped him out. She was too nice. “Since when did you get a dog? I didn’t think-”
He then turned around to face his fellow Hashira,before narrowing his eyes at her. “One more word and I will make him eat you alive, Kochō.”
Shinobu laughed at the threat, but the unmistakable flash of hesitance shone in her eyes. She really didn’t do well with four-legged creatures; not as badly as Giyuu though. “There’s no need for that. I’m here to merely talk to (Y/n)-sanabout something.”
“What’cha want with her, huh?”
“Well, she said that she had some herbs for me,” Shinobu answered with a hesitant smile, while she raised her hands as if in surrender.
Sanemi, in response, narrowed his eyes even more at his comrade. Whenever Kochō talked to (Y/n), it always ended with her overstaying her welcome. They didn’t always see eye to eye, but even he couldn’t deny that they were very close friends.
But, close friends or not, with the initial plans that he’d had in mind for his lover, he didn’t want anyone else to even be near his house later in the evening.
“Fine. Hurry up. I’ll take you to her.” And with that, the Wind Hashira clicked his tongue so that Taro would follow him back to his house.
 ***
 “Shinobu-chan! How have you been?” (Y/n) asked excitedly the moment that she saw her petite friend. She immediately ditched her task of hanging Sanemi’s uniform up on the clothesline, to saunter towards Shinobu and wrap her in a tight hug. “Ah, I’ve missed you so much.”
“I’ve been well. What about you? Rengoku-sanmentioned something about getting married?” Shinobu asked with that ever-present smile on her face, which made Sanemi’s attention snap towards her.
To the Wind Hashira’s surprise, his lover giggled, before stepping away from their guest. “Oh yeah, we were talking about what colors would make for good wedding colors. It was a completely random discussion when he visited a few months ago; no one’s getting married.”
And, as if he agreed, Taro yipped excitedly as he turned in a happy circle; which grated on Sanemi’s nerves even more. It was as if the dog was mocking his ability— or inability— to propose marriage to (Y/n), and he didn’t appreciate that one bit.
“Shut it. You’re getting married. To me.”
“Oh, was that a proposal just now? How delightful!” Shinobu commented with an unfazed smile.
While (Y/n), to her credit, maintained her composure even though she wanted to jump for joy. It wasn’t the exact proposal that she had in mind, but it was so uniquely Sanemi’s that it made it much more special.
Though, she didn’t think that her parents would appreciate it if she told them that Sanemi basically just told her that they were going to get married.
“I’m just making sure she knows.” With a huff and a telltale blush on his cheeks, the young man turned on his heel and tugged at Taro’s leash— which made the ball of fluff trot along behind him, back to the house.
He thought that, maybe, he could bury his embarrassment beneath an entire plate ofohagi.
Once they were inside, Sanemi closed the recently-repaired shojibehind him, before unclipping Taro’s leash and padding over to where (Y/n) had placed the ohagi she’d made for him.
He didn’t even bother to sit down, nor brew a cup of tea, before taking a bite out of the sweet treat. While Taro, in turn, sat down at his feet and lightly pawed at his right leg.
He would never admit it to anyone, but he actually had a soft spot for the walking cotton ball. There was no one that liked ohagilike he did, except for Taro. And he respected the dog’s good taste in snacks.
So, with a click of his tongue, he took a small piece of the treat and fed it to the small creature at his feet.
 ***
 The last thing that Sanemi wanted was to have someone else cutting into his supposed alone time with (Y/n). But there he was, sat at the dinner table with Kochō Shinobu across from him, with a pleased expression on her face— while they dug in to the meal that his future wife had made.
He couldn’t exactly tell her to fuck off like he did Genya, since (Y/n) would have his head for that. So he had no choice but to endure another seemingly sexless night.
As the days rolled by, it became more evident to him that maybe— just maybe— the gods were conspiring against him. Because he hadn’t had sex with (Y/n) in over two weeks.
If his current predicament had anything to do with the stunt he pulled with the Kamado kid and his demon sister, then he was sure that he was going to pay for that for a while.
And when (Y/n) brought out the sakehe kept in his stash, he knew that it was definitely going to be a long and sexless night for him.
By the time that the bottle of sake had been drained, Shinobu was already face down on the table, while (Y/n) kept giggling at something that he didn’t even know. His lover was so red in the face and was evidently drunk off her ass, as she didn’t drink much.
He had tried to tell her not to drink a lot, because he knew how she got, but the silent challenge that the Insect Hashira had issued (Y/n) had goaded her into doing something dumb.
Sanemi couldn’t really get mad at her, since he was sure that she was going to regret her actions in the morning, but he didn’t have the heart to leave her on the table like he would to Kochō.
That served his comrade right for overstaying her welcome… and also getting his lover drunk.
“It’s time to go to bed, (Y/n),” He muttered gruffly, as he got up from his seat and pulled the former Hashira up by hooking his arms around her armpits.
Thankfully, the drunk woman staggered up to her feet, but fell back against her lover as her world tilted on its axis. A quiet laugh bubbled from her lips, which made the young man roll his eyes— all while the faintest of smiles pulled up at the corners of his lips.
It wasn’t often that (Y/n) let loose and got as hammered as she was at that moment; so he wasn’t that mad at her for taking on Shinobu’s unspoken challenge.
“Ara, ara,” She slurred heavily, then added, “’Nemi. I love you soooooo much.”
“I know, dumbass,” Sanemi huffed out, all while a blush tinted his cheeks.
“But you don’t know just how much I love you,” (Y/n) whined, as her lover turned her around in his arms. Instinctively, she wrapped her own arms around his neck, and buried her face against the crook where his neck and shoulder met.
And then, as if to test the Hashira’s thinning self-control, she began to pepper his skin with fleeting kisses— which steadily turned into light sucking that left love bites on his pale skin.
“You’ve told me a thousand times, (Y/n). You love me to the moon and back.”
Defiantly, the young woman shook her head. “But I need to say it more. Because when you hear it, you fight harder to come back to me. I never want to lose you, ‘Nemi.”
(Y/n)’s blatant honesty stirred something inside Sanemi’s chest, and a soft sigh passed his pursed lips. She always told him that she loved him, but she never admitted why she constantly said those words.
And now that he had found out the exact reason why, it made him love her all the more. So, as his right hand gently weaved its way up to cradle the back of her head, he whispered in her ear, “I’m sorry, (Y/n)… for always making you worry.”
He always believed that she deserved someone better than him, but he couldn’t find it in his heart to let her go; not that she would ever heed his words. She would sooner slap him unconscious— if he ever voiced that sentiment to her— rather than heed them.
But silence answered the Wind Hashira’s words, which was then followed by his lover’s light snores.
And so, with the opportunity presented to him, he finally told her the words that he’d always been too embarrassed to say to her, “You mean the world to me, (Y/n). You and Genya.”
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Note: Ahh, hello, everyone! I hope you liked this chapter. It wasn't very smutty, but I like how wholesome the ending turned out. Sanemi needs more wholesomeness in his life, okay? But ahhh, thank you so much for reading! See you in the next one. :D xx
Also, I apologize for taking so long on your other requests. Things have just been busy as of late, and I haven’t had the time (or the energy) to write more. :( But I promise I will get your requests up soon. :D
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stargazing-enby · 5 years
Text
How to Ruin the Perfect Proposal (and Still Get it Right)
A Drarry ficlet written by @drarryruinedme7 and I for Harry’s birthday! Thanks to @coriesocks for betaing 💕
Drarry | General | 2k | Fluff and Crack, Cuddles, Marriage Proposal, Background Pansmione, TW for mild blood and fainting | Read on AO3
“Draco, are you sure Harry will like this?”
Draco looked around his studio at the fireworks stacked on the desk, the wild amount of flowers dispersed all over the room, the two tickets for a Portkey to Paris, the spellbook open on ‘Create Your Own Hot-Air Balloon’, and sighed.
“Of course he will!” His voice cracked a bit in the end. He glared at Ron and shrugged. “Why do you ask?”
Ron raised an eyebrow and smirked. “I know Harry better than you and he doesn’t like big gestures for his birthday.”
Excuse me?! Stupid freckled Gryffindork, how dare he! Ready to kill, Draco replied, “I’m his boyfriend! For six years this year! I—” 
“Guys,” Hermione’s voice interrupted his rant, “stop arguing about who knows Harry better. Ron, stop ruining Draco’s plans; they’re perfect.”
Before Draco could mock Ron for being scolded, Hermione went on. “Draco, stop falling for Ron’s mockery. Dear Godric, it’s always the same with you two.”  
“She’s right, Draco. It’ll be splendid, okay? Now, hurry up or you’ll miss your Portkey,” Pansy said from her seat next to Hermione. She smiled and kissed her cheek softly, whispering in her ear, “We could go to Paris too, sometime.” 
Ron mimicked gagging and rolled his eyes. “You’re all so disgustingly sappy. Why Paris, then? It’s just a city like—”
“Out! All of you!” Draco croaked, exasperated. “I need to get ready and you’re all distracting me. Harry’s almost home. Shoo!” 
————
Finally alone, Draco fixed everything: the fireworks shrunk and in the pocket of his suit; the tickets tight in his hands; the flowers all positioned in the living room, red roses and sunflowers — Harry’s favourites. They’d be the first thing Harry saw once he crossed the threshold of their house, together with Draco in Harry’s favourite soft green jumper and their suitcases in front of him, a banner floating above them, ‘Joyeux Anniversaire, mon amour.’
Waiting for Harry to arrive, Draco started to replay the entire scene in his mind: Harry’s eyes, shining with emotion, Draco telling him he’d organised a surprise weekend for the two of them, together in Paris.
And then, the day travelling by the hot air balloon Draco now knew how to conjure, the picnic at high altitude, with Harry’s favourite wine. Landing on the top of the Tour Eiffel, Draco would declare his endless love for Harry, his speech ready in his pocket. Kneeling, giving him the ring, the sunset would surely enhance Harry’s breathtaking smile, and the answer he hoped to hear from him. ‘Yes.’ Maybe a tear or two.
Yes, everything would be perfect. What could go wrong?
————
Apparently, everything. Everything could go wrong.
Hearing Harry’s key in the lock, Draco straightened up, taking deep breaths, willing his heart to go at a slower pace, trying to control the wave of nausea that hit his stomach. 
Tickets in hand, heart furiously beating in his chest, Draco looked as Harry entered their living room. And all of Draco’s blood drained from his face in sheer horror.
Harry was completely covered in blood, from head to toe. 
“Um, Draco, love? This isn’t mine.” But before Harry’s words could reach his ears, Draco saw stars in front of his eyes and passed out, vaguely aware of Harry hurrying towards him and catching him in his arms.
“Draco…” Harry’s worried voice slowly became clearer until Draco opened his eyes to see Harry crouched next to him, softly caressing his hair. 
What a way to start the proposal weekend, really. And — fuck! The Portkey! Draco suddenly straightened up, taking in he was on their couch, and cast a quick Tempus. 8 pm. They'd missed their Portkey.
“Fuck,” Draco said. The world was spinning around him, and Harry’s hand was suddenly on his back, holding him upright.
“Not so fast, you idiot,” Harry said, rubbing his back in slow circles. “Thanks for the banner, by the way.” He smirked. “Very thoughtful.”
“No! No, no—” Draco tried to stand up, but Harry held him by the waist, locking his fingers at the height of Draco’s belly and pulling him back down—right onto his lap. “Harry, the Portkey! And—and Paris, and—” Harry had cleaned himself up, he realised. Probably with a spell, since his clothes still felt weird to the touch. “What the heck happened?”
“Explosive charm set in a park. We were called to take the civilians out before the explosion occurred, but…”
“Fucking hell.” Draco felt dizzy all over again. He turned in Harry’s arms, bringing his hands to Harry’s face; to Harry’s chest, to his head, saying, “Are you okay? Are you hurt? Are your ears hurt? Are you—”
“I’m all right, love,” Harry said, and suddenly he was hugging Draco closer, burying his face in the crook of Draco’s neck. “Glad to be home.”
Draco let himself be held, forgetting about his ruined plans for a moment. If anything had happened to Harry…fuck. He wanted to say something, something about how much he hated that stupid job of Harry’s, but he refrained. They’d had that conversation one too many times already.
“So I take it I ruined your birthday surprise for me?” Harry mumbled a moment later, burying his nose in Draco’s hair on retreat.
“You bloody well did.” Frustration quickly pooling in his chest again, Draco groaned, taking his turn in the safety of Harry’s neck. “Dammit. I need to call the hotel to cancel the reservation before it’s too late.”
“Hotel? You romantic prat, where were you taking me?”
“Paris,” Draco said with another groan. “I was going to take you to the Ritz. And—and I was taking you on a hot-air balloon, and—I have it in my pocket, you know! The hot- air balloon! And there were gonna be fireworks, and love confessions, and it was going to be perfect, and—”
“A hot-air balloon? You have a—”
“Yes!” Draco moaned, sitting up again. “It was going to be perfect, Harry!”
A smile was pulling at his boyfriend’s lips. Draco scowled. 
“Well…I guess we could still go?” Harry said, his smile widening despite his efforts. “D’you reckon the balloon could make it to Paris?”
Draco raised an eyebrow at him. Honestly, that suggestion didn’t deserve a reply. 
“What!” Harry said with a surprised laugh. “I’ve travelled by dragon, it can’t possibly get more dangerous than that!”
“I’ll tell you,” Draco said slowly, “what would happen if we were to do the imbecility that you just suggested. What would happen is we would die. In the ocean. Or worse, we’d end up stranded on a desert island filled with cannibals—”
“—there are no cannibals in the English Channel—”
“—that we’d alert when we lit up the fireworks to try and attract boats to us—”
“—there are fireworks too?”
“Or worse! The fireworks would set themselves off in my pocket while we were in the air and we’d be dead before the balloon could even hit the water! Two explosions! On your birthday! That’s what would happen, Harry,” Draco concluded. “Two explosions on your birthday.”
Harry nodded solemnly. “A very sensible conclusion. I have one of my own.” At Draco’s raised eyebrows, he said, smirk back in place, “You have a great imagination, love.”
Draco snorted, the sound turning into a whine. He roved his hands up from where they were resting on Harry’s chest, buried them in Harry’s hair, and pressed their foreheads together, sighing through his nose in frustration. “Do you at least like what I’d planned? Please lie to me even if you don’t. I don’t think I can take a defeat against the Weasel right now.”
“Pfft. When have I ever not loved your presents?” Harry said. “Don’t listen to Ron. I knew what I was signing up for when I started dating you, and I haven’t regretted it one day. Well, except for that time with the—”
“Don’t you dare bring up the spaghetti—”
“There was just so much of it!” Harry laughed. “Seriously, though. I love you.” He pulled back, pressed a kiss to Draco’s forehead. Another one to Draco’s nose. To his cheek. “Thank you. And sorry I ruined it.” A kiss to Draco’s other cheek. To the tip of his chin—Harry’s hands holding Draco’s head to angle it. “Do you know what I’d really like for my birthday?”
Draco, quickly melting in Harry’s arms, could only muster a, “Hmm?”
“You, me,” Harry said, nuzzling Draco’s jaw, the spot behind his ear, “takeaway pizza, my hands roaming under this beautiful jumper of yours…” Draco rolled his eyes at him, but Harry just smiled and finished, “and to open your gift. I know you’ve bought me something physical. You always do.”
Fuck. Oh, fuck. The ring. It was still in his pocket.
Draco jumped from the couch, muttering frantically, “Maybe I can still do it in time! Oh Merlin, yes, the ring is—”
“The what?”
In a second, Harry was standing right next to Draco, his green eyes as wide as saucers. Fuck.
“Did I… say it out loud?” Why the fuck had Draco planned this, he knew with Harry nothing went as planned, just like with the spaghetti—
“Draco… what’s happening?” Harry’s voice was only a whisper and Draco mentally cursed himself. It was time to react.
“Ok! I have this! You order the pizza and I’ll go to the bathroom—”
No wait, it was Harry’s birthday, he shouldn’t be the one providing food.
Draco shook his head, the room spinning around him again. “No! I order the pizza and you go to the bathroom—”
“But I don’t need to go to the bathroom…”
“I lit the candles, yes, it can work.”
He turned to search for the phone when Harry grabbed his elbow and cupped his cheek. “Draco, love, take a deep breath and tell me what’s going on. You’re giving yourself a heart attack.”
Draco looked into the eyes of the love of his life, knowing right now, right here, he wanted to stay with him for the rest of his life. “The ring…” he murmured and without letting Harry reply, took it out of his pocket.
He opened the box, kneeled before Harry, gently disentangling from his embrace. “Harry…”
“Oh fuck… Draco, yes!”
“Let me finish!”
“Yes, yes, yes!”
“Wait…”
“Okay, okay, sorry, you go.”
Draco took a deep breath and snorted at the eagerness in Harry’s eyes. 
“Harry, I know this isn’t Paris. There isn’t the perfect sunset and the Tour Eiffel, or the fireworks or… nothing of my perfect, perfect plan…”
“Erm, Draco it doesn—”
“Right! It doesn’t matter because it’s you and me and what’s more important than that? It’s you and me, together and this is exactly what I’d want for us for the rest of our lives. Me, you, together, forever.”
Draco stopped, feeling his chest tighten, his voice faltering away. He closed his eyes, trying to hold back tears. 
When he opened them again, Harry had kneeled in front of him, his eyes filled with tears, a big smile plastered on his face.
“Yes.” He said once more, voice shaking, breaking into a stream of sobs, his lips trembling. Draco wanted to capture them in a kiss, but…
“Wait. Just… let me say it, please?”
“I love you.”
“Harry…”
“Yes, sorry.”
“Will you marry me?”
Harry grabbed a red rose from the coffee table next to them and swirled it in the air between them. 
“The flowers are perfect.” His voice was still shaking and Draco struggled to understand him amongst his sobbing. “Everything with you is perfect. You are perfect.” He inhaled slowly. “Yes, mon amour. Yes, yes, yes, yes, and forever, yes.” 
Merlin, Harry had said yes. They were going to marry, for real. Draco felt dizzy and launched himself on Harry, kissing him, hugging him, keeping him close, making sure he was real. 
They laughed in their kiss, and kissed again, and again, and— 
“Your French pronunciation is horrible,” Draco breathed between one kiss and the other.
“Shut up!” Harry lightly shoved him back, standing up.
“I still want the pizza, you know.”
“You always want to eat. Oh no.” Draco groaned, hiding his face in his hands. “Ron will forever rub this one in my face.”
AO3
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noknockingonmydoor · 3 years
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❤ you know who @noglxry​
Dating:
Where was their first official date? I think it was a spontaneous date, like idk walking by the beach together, and once it ended even if neither of them acknowledged it they knew it had been a date
What is their favorite date location? Somewhere out in nature, away from people, where they could have all the privacy they needed.
How many dates before their first kiss? They kissed on the very first “date” I’d say
Who asked who out first? Probably Rohan, but he didn’t outright ask Brook out, just subtly kept on asking to hang out
How many dates before they considered each other a couple? I’d say it probably didn’t take much for Brook to think of them as a couple, but Rohan? He probably only realised they were a legit couple shortly before it ended 💀
Friends:
How many mutual friends do they have? If they’d met in Morioh, they’d have a few mutual friends, like Reimi and Koichi. Otherwise? None. Lol
Which one of their friends is most likely to get in between an argument between the ship? I imagine Brook’s friends would tell him to break it off whenever he talked about his problems with Rohan bc he always looked so miserable speaking of it. Does this answer that question justice, idk
Which one has more friends? Brook.
Which one has introduced the other to more people? I’m not even sure if they explicitly introduced each other to their friends... ‘cause deep down they knew this thing was gonna crash and crumble
Did they start out as friends and made their way to a couple, or were they a couple almost right away? They were quasi-friends briefly, but their attraction to each other was apparent very early on, and they acted on it too quickly probably.
Arguments:
What do they argue about the most? Brook hates how cold and dismissive and inconsiderate Rohan gets, Rohan hates how sensitive, emotional, needy Brook gets. It’s a vicious cycle.
How do they usually solve their disagreements? They don’t. Even if they try to set aside their differences, they just... can’t... and it hurts them both.
Do they argue a lot or not very often? Too much.
Who admits to being wrong more often? Usually Brook, unless he gets fed up with taking all the blame all the time and Rohan figures it’s his turn to take responsibility.
Sex:
Who is more likely to initiate sex? I’d say it’s even, maybe Brook slightly more? In the beginning, at least. Later on I imagine it starts feeling like a chore and they just stop altogether
Do they prefer to do it in a bed, or do they prefer a chair, or perhaps the shower?  Maybe other spots? In the beginning, probably everywhere they could. As time went on, probs mostly in bed
Do they practice any kind of bdsm in the bedroom at all and if so, what kinds? I’d say only some tying up and liiiiight power play
Who’s usually more dominant in the bedroom? Rohan, almost exclusively. Rohan sometimes nags Brook to try and switch it up, but it doesn’t work out for either of them.
Lights on or off? In the beginning, it doesn’t matter. Later on, dim lights. Or off.
Do they share any kinks? Both into some light bondage and wearing lingerie
Does either one have any kinks that they don’t have in common with the other? Ofc. There’s Brook’s kink for soft love and affection and romance, and Rohan’s kink for heavy rough senseless fucking
Have they ever had sex anywhere public before? Maybe tempted to in the beginning, but never went through with it
Who would be most likely to suggest bringing in a third person and who would that person be? I don’t think either of them would be into that.
Cuddling:
When are they most likely to cuddle? Just before bedtime or after waking up
Where is their favorite place to cuddle? In bed
Who’s usually the big spoon? Both? Mby Brook more because he’s much bigger and it’s easier for him to embrace Rohan than other way around
Do they cuddle often? Rohan would say too often. Brook would say not often at all.
Marriage:
Are they married?  If not, is it something that could happen between them?
If they are married, where did they get married at?  If not married, what is their dream wedding location?
If married, who proposed to who?  If not married, who would be more likely to propose to who?
If they are married, which one moved in with the other?  If not married, who would be more likely to move in with the other?
Children:
Do they have kids?  If not, would they consider having kids?
How many kids do they have?  If no kids, how many kids would they want to have?
What are the children’s names?  If no kids, what would they name their kids?
Random:
What are three random headcannons you have about the ship that are not related to romance or sex? 1. In the beginning, Rohan could listen to Brook talk for HOURS about his life, experiences, knowledge, but later on the spark is gone and their conversations get really dull and uninspiring and passive-aggressive. 2. An important character in Rohan’s manga/one-shot/something is HEAVILY, shamelessly inspired by Brook and the storyline he’s featured in is like an allegorical retelling of their relationship. 3. Rohan likes to tease Brook a lot and give him embarrassing nicknames like ‘my little orange’ but Brook actually finds it adorable. (wow, ONE WHOLE kinda cute headcanon)
Which one is more likely to suggest getting pets? Brook. Rohan's like. OK if ur gonna take care of them while I'm hyperfocusing on something
Which one eats more snack foods? Brook, and he’s always bringing apples n shit when Rohan forgets to eat
What is their favorite movie to watch together? Umm... Brokeback Mountain? BHJFBAJBFJHBDF I DUNNO
What is their favorite tabletop game to play together? Idk about tabletop but they probs played like card games
What are your three absolute favorite things about this ship? The lovey dovey perfect magical beginning, the weird rollercoaster once the honeymoon period wears off, and the EXPLOSIVE ending. Basically everything. It’s interesting.
What is one thing you don’t like about this ship? It HURTS and there’s lingering sadness in their every interaction and it can be a bummer bc they’re TRYING but they’re bringing out the worst in each other :(
If you had to rate this ship on a scale of 1-10, what would you give it? 1/10 WHAT THE HELL WHERE THEY BOTH THINKING DRAGGING THIS THING ON FOR SO LONG. HELLO??? But would ship again thank u Nori for the opportunity to indulge in shameless angst hehe
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