#I never had the chance to come out to my grandparents. any of them. and part of me feels robbed

[badolmen]

I still drive my grandma’s Subaru.

I wonder sometimes - would she hate me?

Could she love me?

She never knew me; dead before I had a body I hated. Buried before I knew the word for wanting to die by my own hand.

Could she love a stranger?

A stranger who murdered her grandchild and wears their skin like a trophy?

Would she hate me? Would she hate me? Would she hate me?

And I cry - could you love me?

And I cry

Because she is crying.

Of course not.

How could I?

How could you think that I would?

[purplekiwis]

𝑲𝒊𝒔𝒔𝒂𝒃𝒍𝒆

Summary: While they're on opposite ends of the social spectrum, Y/N and Harry have been the closest of friends for years. But could it be that an all-night working session for a science project helps them break out of the friendzone?

Genre: Friends to Lovers | Nerd!Harry x Badgirl!Y/N

Warnings: SMUT | Self-Deprication | This is coming-of-age story. There's no mention of their age but both characters are in their last year of high school (just a heads up in case someone doesn't want to read because of that)

Wordcount: 10k

A/N: ok y'all, so i have made a mistake.

i was like 99% sure there was a request in my inbox asking for a blurb where harry was nerdy? i found it interesting so i started working on it... only to realize halfway into things that that was not in fact what was written in the request 😅

i figured i might as well post it anyways since i wrote it but yeah... i'm sorry, anon! i (now) know you wanted subby!harry, but all i have to give you is nerd!harry (don't worry, i made him a lil subby just for you 🤫)

also, before y'all flood my inbox with asks about the non finished fics (rightfully so) i hear you and i'm very, very sorry for the lack of updates. i had to take a break because i kept feeling like the texts i could come up with weren't good enough for the stories i wanted to tell. i still partly feel that way, but i'm hoping the lack of real harry content will inspire me to write more in the near future. thank you for reading my dumb little stories, i love you 💖

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Harry was never too fond of grocery shopping.

He really didn’t like the whole “put things inside the cart, remove things from the cart at the cashier, bag them, put them back into the cart, get them in the car, take them out of the car, bring them inside and put them away” process.

It was extremely inconvenient to him.

It was also very time-consuming, though Harry believed this particular belief of his was directly influenced by having to grocery shop with his grandparents every other day.

Naturally, they were slower than he was, so he'd just drag his feet behind them, push the cart and wait for them to ask him to grab something from the shelves that their aging pains no longer allowed them to reach.

That part was fine, what bore him the most was how easily they got sidetracked by trinkets that weren’t on the shopping list. Oh! And how they always managed to locate a random old person they knew from God knows where who engaged them in talks that appeared to stretch for hours.

Harry would try and make up reasons not to go with them sometimes, but he always felt a little guilty about it afterwards. After all, it was a very small favor for him to help his grandparents with their groceries, considering they had been the ones to provide him with a loving home after his parents failed to do so.

People always seemed to feel sorry for him when they found out he'd grown up without his “real parents” around, but he'd never had reasons to complain, really. Unlike his parents, Joe and Martha had always treated him nicely and made him feel genuinely loved.

They were a little overprotective at times, but like Y/N always said, that was probably because they watched too much TV.

Speaking of Y/N, Harry didn't hate grocery shopping with her so much. He even kind of enjoyed it as long as the space wasn't too crowded. That day it wasn’t, which he was extremely thankful for because it reduced the chances of them bumping into any familiar faces who might ask about his grandparents, or if the girl he was with was his girlfriend.

That’s another thing he detested about running into people his grandparents were friends with - they loved to pester him with indiscreet questions about his love life that made him go red-faced. It was even worse when he happened to be with Y/N during those times; fortunately, she was always a bit clueless about it. Harry guessed that the reason for that was that she was so comfortable with their friendship that she wasn't even aware of what was going on… even if she thought it a little odd that he kept introducing her as his neighbor even though they weren't neighbors anymore.

Despite the fact that they no longer lived next door to each other, Y/N was still a frequent visitor at Harry’s house. Ever since his family relocated to a different area of the city, it had become custom for her to spend the night whenever the two had group projects to do.

Their journey was always the same. As they got off the bus from school, they would head to the supermarket to stock up on frozen pizzas and late-night goodies to help them through the long hours they’d be spending working on their computers.

That day was no different. They'd just grabbed their pizzas, and were now wandering around the drinks aisle looking at the options.

“Do you think your grandma would notice if we hid one of these in your backpack?” Asked the ex-neighbor, Y/N. The smile on her face got him figuring she was up to no good… even before he noticed the bottle of whatever alcoholic beverage she was holding.

The idea startled him a little more than he'd like to admit. “Don’t start! And put it back before anyone sees you.”

The way his body jumped made Y/N laugh as she set the bottle back on its shelf. “Relax, okay? I was only messing with you... I knew you'd be too chicken to do it. But just so you know, they don't even ask for an ID most times.”

He replied to her with a headshake. “You're not as cool as you think just because you get drunk with your friends every once in a while.” She didn’t seem too pleased by his remark, but Harry figured that by now she ought to know he didn't mean most of what he said when he was annoyed. “You can get an iced tea… or a pepsi… or that weird-flavored soda you like.”

“Fine.”

Harry noticed that even after he allowed her to pick her favorite drink, Y/N still didn't seem particularly happy with him. She trailed behind him in silence while he pushed the cart around and didn't even appear to care when they walked past the shelf where her usual go-to snack was.

“Did you know that statistically, people who start drinking in their teens have a 5 times higher likelihood of becoming alcoholics than those who only start later?” Harry knew it probably wasn't the best conversation topic to get her to talk to him, but it was the only thing that came to his mind in the moment.

“Did you know that stating facts like that makes you look 1000 times more of a nerd than you already are?”

Harry snorted at her retort. “You didn't seem to mind me being a nerd when you asked me to work on the paper with you.”

“I do every paper with you, why should this be any different?”

He smirked at that. It was true. He and Y/N had attended every academic year together since they first met in elementary school, and they had managed to enroll in almost all of the same classes each time. They were currently in their senior year of high school, and their friendship was still pretty solid despite their different personalities and social interests.

Y/N was in the midst of a rebellious phase. In the beginning it all had been quite harmless, with her obsession with dyeing the ends of her hair crazy colors and pairing fishnets with knee socks. That somehow led her into starting to hang out with people Harry considered to be a little unnerving.

He wasn't sure what exactly made him annoyed about them... Maybe it was because he was a little resentful over having to “compete” for Y/N's attention and feared he would one day completely lose her to them, given that they were undoubtedly the cooler part of the equation. Perhaps part of it was also because those people reminded him of the kind who used to bully him for being a dork when he was younger. Thankfully, he wasn't being bullied as much anymore, but he still didn't have many friends.

He also barely interacted with girls, as one might expect. There were times he had crushes, but he was always afraid to talk to them, so things never really went anywhere. Thus, Y/N was really Harry's only female friend.

He confesses sometimes he was surprised she still wanted to hang out with him as much as she did. When she became popular, Harry naturally assumed she would ditch him for social status reasons, but that never happened, which was a big relief to him since he liked having her around.

They were both geeky, so they watched a lot of movies and played video games together... but when it came to other things, they were a little different. Y/N had a much better sense of style, was much more social, and enjoyed doing dumb things like smoking weed and getting drunk behind her parents’ backs.

Harry had never really understood the appeal of it. In fact, his lack of interest in participating in that stuff sometimes worried him a bit, but again... it wasn’t like he wasn’t curious.

There were a few times when he thought it would be cool if he could hang out with Y/N and her friends, go out drinking, dance, and maybe, just maybe, if he was very very lucky, even get to kiss someone on the mouth.

But then he always ended up reasoning that people like him weren't welcome at parties and that if he ever dared to step foot into one he'd probably end up being the butt of everyone’s jokes.

Even knowing so, he couldn't help fantasizing about it… especially the last part. Yes, Harry definitely thought about intimacy a lot more than he'd ever be willing to admit… and he also pondered a lot about how being practically invisible to girls sucked… and about how much he wished one would give him a chance.

He was aware of his issues, however. He knew he wasn’t exactly the hottest guy around. His haircut and clothing were out of style, mostly because he lacked the confidence to mess with his looks and follow the trends the way other people did. He’d buy new t-shirts sometimes; the only thing was that they almost always had gaming-related designs which obviously didn't do his style much good.

But it wasn’t all bad. Harry knew he had nice eyes… he just couldn't get the girls to come close enough to notice them. He figured the way he stared at the floor when he walked, along with the thick glasses he had been wearing since childhood had also taken part in preventing people from noticing how green his eyes were.

He thought Y/N had nice eyes as well, and he liked the way she accentuated them with make-up… even when her eyeliner turned out a little uneven or got smudgy because she forgot she had it on and rubbed her eyes with her fingers.

She'd been doing that a lot in the last hour they'd been working on their paper, which was making Harry feel a little bad.

Normally, by that time in the evening Y/N would already be working on her part, but as they'd started later than usual, she wasn't. Also, being the control freak he was, Harry always wanted to be the one in charge of the research portion of any papers they worked on. Leaving the final task of writing and flourishing to Y/N.

So the poor girl had been sitting next to him for hours, watching him go through articles on his laptop.

Harry could tell by the increased frequency of her yawns that her battery was running low, so he wasn't the least bit surprised when he heard her hesitantly ask, “Are you planning on staying up much longer? Aren’t you getting tired?”

“Um… not really. I found this really cool essay and want to make sure we gather all of their data.” He was so preoccupied with copying and pasting that he didn't even look away from the screen as he replied to the question. “It's a shame we don’t have any hot springs nearby... wouldn't it be cool if we could collect samples of these microbes and study them in the school lab?”

“Are you for real?” She looked at him like he was crazy as she let her back slide halfway down the bedframe. “Do you really find these stupid water microbes that interesting?”

“Not all of them, it’s just that I’d never considered that there could be some growing and thriving in actual boiling water… since, you know, that’s what’s supposed to kill them.” Due to the silence that followed, Harry realized that despite Y/N's efforts to keep him company, she was moments away from falling asleep. “Should I go get the air mattress to make your bed?”

“I can't sleep. I haven't done my part yet.”

“It's fine; we still have the entire day tomorrow to finish.”

“Don't bother with me if you’re focused on the paper. I just need to close my eyes for a bit, but I won’t fall asleep.” She promised, but Harry knew better than to believe her. “Do you mind if use your covers? Your room’s a bit chilly.”

“No, not at all.” He didn't mind it, in fact, he even found it a little exciting. Not in a pervy way, but it felt good to know that a good looking girl would be using his bed and leaving her girly scent on it. Harry tried not to dwell on those kinds of thoughts over Y/N too much, but of course he thought she was hot. He wasn’t that blind.

He hadn't always felt that way. For a long while Harry just thought of her as his best friend, but she'd grown into her curves in the last couple of years and he would be lying if he said his eyes and mind didn't occasionally wander. He felt a little bad about it, but it wasn't like he was ever going to do anything other than fantasize, so he supposed it was alright… as long as she didn’t catch on.

Truth be told, he’d always liked Y/N’s personality, but as of recently her looks and the way she dressed had also made her the type of girl he was attracted to on the outside. Yes, it was always the girls who wore alternative clothing and scowled a lot that caught his eye.

He was aware that his preference sounded extremely stereotypical coming from a shy loser like him, but it wasn’t like he could help what he was keen on.

“Is the entire chapter on Volcanic Islands really necessary?” She asked, leaning further into him so she could see the laptop screen despite being laid down.

“I'm not sure if it's necessary, but I thought we should at least mention these two islands since they keep coming up.” He could feel her sigh of defeat on his arm. “It’s already halfway done. I've already gotten all the info about Iceland… now all that's left is this tiny archipelago in Portugal.” With that, he rushed to type the final location on the Google search bar but was taken aback by Y/N's chuckling. “What are you laughing at?”

“Do you not know how to delete your browsing history?” She asked him, still laughing.

Harry's brows furrowed slightly, but he smiled along. “Huh, why? Seriously random that.”

“Random, really? I may only be half awake, but I can still see.”

“See what?”

“See Pornhub come up on your suggestions when you started typing Portugal.” Harry's face dropped instantly. Then, with a harsh slam, he shut his laptop lid. He could feel his entire body tensing up as a burning wave swept across his face, hotter than he'd ever felt before. “Harry, relax!” Y/N remarked when she saw him like that. She seemed rather worried about it as she clung to his arm and shook it. “Hey, look at me, this isn’t a bad thing. You don't have to-”

Before she could say anything else, Harry covered his face with his sheets and muttered, “Yes it is. It’s embarrassing.” Honestly, even that felt like a tame word to describe how he was feeling. This was, hands down, one of the most awkward circumstances he’d ever been in. He wasn't prepared to deal with it, so he chose to remain hidden and avoid further conversation.

He knew he'd have to come out at some point, but he couldn’t bear the thought of facing Y/N knowing that she knew he watched porn and wanked. It was making him feel all kinds of yucky, which was why he was a bit shocked by what happened right after.

Y/N ventured under the sheets after him, and eventually nestled into his side. The warmth felt nice, but being so close to her was weird. He liked it, but it also made him feel worse at the same time, given that she'd been the catalyst for his breakdown in the first place and all that. Plus, he still couldn't wrap his head around why she wanted to touch him when he felt so icky.

Despite the fact that they were right next to each other, it took a while for one of them to venture breaking the silence. By the time Harry tried, he had a dry mouth, so he had to swallow first. “I know it’s not your fault, but I'd honestly rather you hadn't said anything because knowing you saw is making me feel like shit.”

His faltering whispers seemed to stun Y/N a little, as if she'd already accepted that they wouldn't be talking for the rest of the night. “There's no need for you to feel that way… especially with me.” She returned his hushed words. “I wouldn't have said anything if I knew you'd get like this. I was just joking.”

“I know, but it still bothers me.” Harry was a little surprised by how at ease he felt speaking in quiet whispers while hiding under his covers. For some reason, talking to Y/N in this setting wasn’t as mortifying as he'd anticipated. “And just to be clear, I have no idea how that ended up in my suggestions. I always use incognito mode for that stuff.”

He couldn't see her, but he could feel her shrug. “You must have forgotten to open a new tab. It has happened to me before.”

“Oh. So. You watch it too?”

“Doesn't everybody, at least once in a while?”

“I don’t know… I suppose they must, yeah.” They both fell quiet for a bit, but not for longer than a few breaths as Harry felt the urge to clarify something. “I don't want you to think I'm a perv, though. I don't watch it all that often… not the kind of stuff that you’re probably thinking I watch, anyway.”

“What do you think I think you watch?”

“I don’t know, like… cringy, scripted porn… you know, the usual “oh no, I’m stuck!” stuff that shows up on the main page.”

“Um… I’ll be honest, you’ve always came across as more of a Hentai guy to me. And before you say anything, this isn't just me calling you a weeaboo. I've watched my share too and overall, I think it's much better than that other stuff you were talking about.”

“Yeah, fine... I'll admit that I like Hentai, but it’s not all I watch.” Harry wasn't sure why he felt so keen on sharing all of a sudden, but weirdly, he was kind of enjoying their conversation. He found the topic interesting, and he'd never had the chance to discuss it with anybody in person before so… it was fun. And, on top of that, Y/N was disclosing a bit too and he liked that he was getting to know this part of her as well. “Do you know what audio porn is?” She hummed and nodded yes. “Cool, so, there’s this category called ‘guided masturbation’ that’s basically just girls talking and like... telling you what to do. There’s no visual content really, but it has a very real feel to it that I like... almost as if you're on the phone with someone.”

“That's interesting, actually. I always thought that audio porn mostly for women, since, you know... everyone says men are visual creatures.” She shifted her weight slightly, turning towards him. “But you still find naked girls hot, right? the sight of them?”

“Well, of course. I’d be worried if that wasn’t the case.” Her question struck Harry a little, but he liked that she was acting curious and asking him things. “Honestly, I think the reason why I don't watch more regular porn is because I can't picture myself living out the fantasies. I don’t know, it’s weird to explain.”

“You can’t picture yourself in a sexy plumber costume ready to unclog a hot milf’s pipes?”

Harry snorted. “You're joking, but that's pretty much what it is.”

She hummed as she drew closer to him on the bed. This time her, placing her head into the crook of his arm. Her mouth was closer to Harry's ear in this position, although he wasn't aware of this until he heard, and felt, her whisper again. “Is that why you like to hear girls telling you what to do? because you're a bit unexperienced?”

Harry wasn't usually one to cuss, but shit. Hearing her whisper that somewhat snarky question so close to his ear struck a chord with him. It was freaking hot and kind of reminded him a bit of the audios he liked. Obviously, it wasn't as explicit, but it was better in many ways. A huge downside to the experience, however, was that it was extremely difficult to concentrate afterward. In fact, in the midst of his thoughts, Harry almost forgot to reply. “Um… I guess? I’m sorry, I kind of forgot what the question was.”

“No, it’s all good. I’m sure you must be getting tired.” With that, Y/N crawled out from under the covers. As she did so, her hand stumbled onto Harry’s toppled over laptop. “Oh, I didn’t even notice this was here. We should probably turn it off, right? Assuming you don't want to keep working after this.”

Harry also came out from hiding and sat up in a position similar to hers, with his legs partially covered by the covers. As his eyes re-acclimated to the brightness of the room, he massaged them a little. “Sure. I’ll just need a moment to, uh… make sure the file got saved properly, if that’s okay.”

Taking advantage of his temporary blindness, Y/N snatched his pillow from his side of the bed. She tucked it under herself and slid back under the sheets. “I've got a comfy bed right here so… feel free to take as much time as you need.”

He smiled at her antics as he readjusted the laptop over his legs and opened it. Turns out the file had been autosaved, but Harry still saved it once more before switching off his computer and setting it over his desk. “Yeah, that's fine. I don’t mind giving you my bed for the night and sleeping on the air mattress for a change.”

“Or you could spare yourself and sleep right there instead of worrying about which one of us will be sleeping on the floor.”

Her offer caused his eyebrows to rise, but he wasn't sure if that was a good thing to do. He liked the idea of it but was a little concerned about accidentally doing something embarrassing in the middle of the night. What if he made a toot? Or worse, had a wet dream? He hadn't had any recently, but one never knew when it might start happening again. In any case, he'd probably wake up with a stupid morning wood as usual, which was something that he could typically make go away before he got up when Y/N was around… but if she was going to sleep next to him, wasn’t there a chance she could tell? That prospect made him terrified. “Um… I'm not sure that I'm a good sleep partner; grandma says I used to move a lot in my sleep when I was small.”

“Oh. I don’t mind. I just don't feel like sleeping by myself tonight for some reason.” Y/N shrugged, leaving him unsure of what to say next. It was already difficult to say no when it wasn’t what he wanted to say, but it became nearly impossible when he looked at her and met her begging eyes.

Well then, if she was being so casual about it, he figured it must not be that common for people to do humiliating things in their sleep, contrary to what he had previously been led to believe by his insecurities. The other factor that was pushing him to say yes was that having to get up to grab the air mattress from the attic and make Y/N a bed sounded a little too demanding for how lazy he was feeling. His bed wasn't even tiny either, so they'd have plenty of room to spread out without troubling one another throughout the night. “Ok, alright. But don't grumble tomorrow about having trouble falling asleep because of me. This was entirely your idea.”  

“I don’t grumble.” He made sure to let her see his eyeroll before turning off the lights and getting into bed with a second pillow for himself. No one said anything for a bit, they were just adjusting their positions in search for the most comfortable one. Harry was still wide-awake, but he believed it wouldn't be long until Y/N fell asleep. She was already close to when they were working on the paper, so it shouldn't take long at all.

She proved him wrong, though, when she blurted out something after minutes of being quiet. “I have another question for you...”

“Oh. What’s that?”

Harry saw a shadow that he believed to be her head poking up from the pillow, propped on what should be her arm. Her voice sounded quite chirpy too, which meant he’d probably underestimated how awake and willing to chat his friend actually was. “Have you ever… like, kissed anyone?”

“That’s so random.” It was during times like these that Harry wished he could travel back in time. If he could go back and pretend to be asleep two seconds ago when Y/N asked if she could ask him a question, he wouldn’t even hesitate. Heck, he'd even pretend to snore if it meant not having to respond but alas, since Harry didn’t have any time travel abilities, that wasn’t an option. She knew he was awake and was anxiously awaiting his response. “You're quite random sometimes, Y/N...”

Her voice was hushed, yet a little taunting. “That’s not an answer.”

Harry sighed, realizing she wasn't going to let him off the hook until he participated in the discussion she wanted to have. “Alright, then… define kissing... does something like a peck qualify?”

“No, Harry. I'm talking about actual kissing. Tongue and all.”

“Oh um. I knew that, obviously.”

“And did you do it or not?”

“Yeah I, uh. I've kissed...” His words stumbled slightly. They didn't come out as cool or confident as he’d hoped, but he did try to make his statement sound plausible. “But it wasn’t with a lot of tongue... just like, a little bit.”

Y/N let out a snort at his unconvincing answer. “You’re a shit liar, but fine. I used to lie about it too when people asked me.” Rather than defending himself, Harry didn't say anything, which told his friend all she needed to know. “Is it something you think about, though? would you like to do it?”

“Well, yeah… of course I’d like to. Even some of the guys I hang out with have done it... and you’ve seen them.” Harry felt a bit mean making that remark about his friends' looks. Obviously, he wanted them to have someone who liked them, but that didn’t change the fact that none of them had much going in terms of physical appeal. “I'm not saying this to make you feel sorry for me. I know I’m the problem and that the reason why I haven’t kissed yet is because I’m not a kissable person. My only hope is that things will change once we start college. I don't know if I ever told you before, but I've been thinking about switching to contacts. I was also thinking it could be nice to exercise a bit just so clothes would fit me better. What do you think? It should help, right?”

Even in total darkness, Harry could tell that Y/N's eyebrows were deeply furrowed by her tone of voice. “Who was it that told you you weren't kissable?”

“Nobody needed to tell me. I see myself every time I look in the mirror. I dress like my grandpa and have a bit of a hunch like him too.”

“I think you're mistaking being unattractive for wearing clothes that aren’t particularly flattering. It's very different.” Harry knew she couldn't see it, but he was kissing his teeth at what she’d said. “If the reason why you want to make those changes is to feel better about yourself, then you have my full support… I do, however, have a feeling that’s not all it is, so I hope you realize that you don’t have to bend over backwards to be likable or kissable, or anything else. You already are all of those things exactly as you are.”

“I appreciate you sugarcoating things to make me feel better but if what you are saying were true, and I was fine the way I am, I wouldn't have this much trouble finding someone who saw that in me.” He sighed, a little annoyed by her efforts. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but it’s hard for me to believe you’ll ever understand what it feels like to be me. You’re like... the coolest, most kissable girl ever.”

There was a slight click, and suddenly the room got soaked in an orange light that caused Harry to squint despite his familiarity with it. His bedside table lamp was on, and Y/N was staring at him in awe. “You think I’m kissable?”

Crap. Had he really blurted it out that way? He couldn't recall the precise words he had used, but it seemed unlikely that Y/N was asking him that for no reason. She looked very taken aback by what she’d heard, and Harry, who still hadn't a clue how he’d managed to put his foot in it yet again, felt his face turn red and his tongue stutter once more. “Not in a weird way! Maybe I phrased it in a way that made it seem like I was being weird, but it was just a form of expression. Not that what I said isn’t true, but I would never say it like that. Even if I wanted to kiss you, which has never crossed my mind, really.”

“Hm.” Y/N’s gaze was drawn to her hands as he finished. Harry observed that she was picking at her nail polish, which was rather unusual for her unless she was nervous. “Is it really that ridiculous? I mean, if you wanted to, I wouldn't mind...”

His forehead wrinkled. “Why? Because you feel sorry for me?”

“No Harry, because I'd like to.”

“Me? You’d like to kiss me? Why?”

Y/N shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t know.” Her tone was a little hesitant, but she carried on. “Aff, okay… screw it. I might as well tell you since we’re talking about it. So, I, uh. I have a bit of a thing for you. I’ve had it for a while, but it was never serious… since well, I never really felt like there was a real possibility that it could be reciprocated. That’s why I didn’t tell you sooner, that and because I wasn't sure how things would turn out if you rejected me so… I figured it would be best not to say anything.” She shrugged once more, as a small smile formed on her lips. “You’ve also never mentioned having any crushes or being into anyone, so I thought maybe you weren't interested in that type of stuff much.”

“Yeah, right.” Harry rolled over in bed, facing away from her. It wasn’t unusual of Y/N to play practical jokes on him from time to time, but this one did not go over well with him. It seriously screwed with his self-esteem and since it was her, he could have easily been tricked into admitting something he'd end up regretting. “I know you’re taking the piss and I don't think it's funny, like, at all.”

“Why would I be taking the piss? Do you really think I'd joke about something like this? And look at me when I'm speaking to you!” She pulled on his shoulder, compelling him to lie onto his back so she could at least see his face.

Harry complied with her, but not without a groan. “I'm serious Y/N. If you’re trolling, this is your one chance to say so ‘cause If I find out later that you were doing this to see me make a fool of myself or to get me flustered, I'm going to get really, really angry at you.”

“I may play a lot of dumb jokes, but I don't play with people's feelings like that… let alone my friends' feelings. I'm dead serious, Harry. It's really not that hard to see it if you think a little.” She huffed, upset that he wasn’t taking her seriously. She'd guessed he’d act a little wary at first but hadn't expected him to think she was pulling a prank on him. How could he have missed that she had a thing for him anyway, with how touchy she was when they were alone together? With her acting so eager to be his first kiss? She'd been shit at hiding it for years. It was so clear. “Do you remember when we were kids... my parents took us to a fancy playground by a lake and... there was a girl there who had a Nintendo but wouldn't let me play with it, she would only let you, so I snatched it away?”

"Yeah, I remember.” As he replied, Harry was unable to stop himself from letting out small laugh at the memory. “And then you threw it in the water because you'd heard from someone that Nintendo’s were waterproof. Your parents got so mad, and she wouldn't stop crying. It was awful.”

“Yeah, that. Except, I never really thought that they were waterproof. I did it because she was nasty... and it made me upset that you’d left me to play on the slide alone.” Y/N admitted, also laughing and shaking her head a bit at her childish antics. “I didn't know back then what being jealous was, but I think about that day sometimes... it makes me feel embarrassed obviously, but it also makes me realize that I've always been really possessive of you. I think if you'd turn out to have many girlfriends I would have realized much sooner that my feelings for you weren't just friendly ones.”

“Wow. Was that really what that was?” Harry was stupefied and Y/N couldn't not giggle at his open mouthed reaction. “I’m sorry, it’s just… this whole thing is really confusing. My head is spinning a bit and... being completely honest, part of me still thinks that you’re joking but at the same time, you seem serious enough so I’m gonna choose to believe you. Even if I have no idea why you'd like me that way, other than maybe ‘cause I'm tall.

“The hair too. Don't forget your fluffy hair.” She added playfully. “No but, even though I like those things, they aren’t the reason why I like you. I just do. There’s no logical explanation for it.”

“Yeah, um. That makes sense. I mean, not really but I think I understand that feeling you were describing and… I can kind of relate to it too since I've kind of had a small crush too since last year… or well, I've realized last year... back when you were dating that Joshua guy. It made me jealous. I’ve always thought it was silly though, so I tried not to think about it too much.” Harry acknowledged, albeit doing it with more trepidation and delay than Y/N had. “I've had other crushes too, but they were on girls I never talked to so... they didn’t last too long.”

“Wait so… you’ve had a crush too? since that long?”

“I- uh.. I have. Yeah.”

“You must be really good at hiding your feelings then, because I never noticed anything that suggested that, much less that you were jealous. Trust me, if I had any inkling I would’ve had this conversation with you last year instead of doing what I did. I didn’t even like Joshua much… I just wanted to have someone.” She pursed her lips in a mournful smile before reaching out for Harry's hand. It wasn’t the first time that their hands had brushed, but this time something in Harry's chest was sparked by her touch, making him feel both ecstatic and stiff at the same time. “It's nice that you've had other crushes, though. I think I'd be more upset if I found out you'd been caught up on me all this time and I'd just been completely unaware of it. With that said, I don't want you thinking about other girls now. Only me.”

“Yeah, okay. Just you. I like how that sounds a lot.” Harry had no idea what had possessed him, but he felt compelled to bring her hand to his mouth and kiss it. His gesture made her giggle, but he got somewhat self-conscious afterwards. “Was that lame? Probably, right?”

“No, it was cute. I liked it.” She reciprocated by lifting his hand to her mouth and placing a kiss over his knuckles. “Is there anywhere else you’d like me to kiss?”

With a tentative smile, he gave her a direct glance before nodding. Y/N scooted a bit closer to him but as they got closer, Harry's body tightened a little. He couldn't take his eyes off her lips, yet the sight of the rosy, fluffy cushions was giving him pause. “I’m sorry if I’m not… uh… if I don’t know how to...”

She gave his cheek a comforting caress. “That’s fine, but are you okay? You’re shaking a bit.”

Harry laughed, feeling rather frustrated with himself. “Yeah, um… sorry about that. I'm just really nervous.”

“It can wait if you're not ready.” Y/N made a point of assuring him, even though she had a feeling that waiting wasn't what Harry wanted. He was just nervous, which was totally normal for someone who was about to get their first kiss. The most she could do was try to make him a bit calmer. “Is there anything specific that you're worried about?”

“No, I’m ready. It's just a bit overwhelming. This is all so alien to me… it’s a lot for my nervous system to handle.” Y/N couldn’t not frown a bit at how adorable he was as she listened. “I- I'm also a little in over my head, thinking I probably won’t be as good as the boys you've kissed before.”

“You don't have to worry about that, really. Trying stuff until you figure out what makes the other person melt is the most fun part.” She assured, before giving his hand another kiss. “We’ll learn that from one another, okay?”

Harry nodded. “Yeah, okay.”

Upon his approval, Y/N pulled herself closer and higher, until her face was barely above his. They both smiled as she rubbed her nose against his... once, twice, and then it happened. She dropped her head just enough for their lips to touch.

Her tenderness and Harry's stomach-bursting butterflies were in stark contrast, making for a bizarre, yet fascinating combination of sensations.

They weren't quite in time with one another's lips but their kiss was free flowing. And it felt flawless, akin to a Vivaldi concerto or a Michelangelo masterpiece. There was something alarming about it too, however. Suddenly, Harry could feel the relatively insignificant seed of love that Y/N had planted in his heart blossom into a giant sequoia tree. And he couldn't, for the life of him, fathom the possibility of having shared a moment as nice with anyone else.

He was truly loving whatever love spell she was casting on his body with her kissing, which is why he couldn't help but let out a low whimper when he felt their lips unglue from her pulling away. “Why did you- why did you stop?”

“Your glasses are getting in the way.” She explained as she carefully started pulling them off his face. “Here, much better.” As soon as she was done placing his glasses over the nightstand, she raised her leg and straddled him. Well, sort of. It was more of an embrace; except she was laying on top of him. “This is okay, right? Not too much pressure?”

“Mh-mm. Better. Thank you.” Harry's face was flushed, and he couldn't stop smiling as he stared at her. She was so pretty, and her body over his felt so cozy. It was still hard to believe he had kissed her, but the tingle on his lips confirmed it was real, despite how uncanny it all felt. “I like this a lot, being this close to you.”

“Me too.” She ran her fingertips across his blushing skin. “You're so cute like this. I should’ve kissed you way sooner. You seem to like it too, don't you?”

“Mh-mm. I really do.” Harry desperately wanted more kisses from her, but he was still a little too unsure of himself to initiate. Besides, he’d really liked when she took initiative earlier and led the way so that’s what he wanted to happen again. “I’d like to do it some more, if that’s okay...”

Y/N smiled at his request, but wasted no time before she leaned in to taste his lips again.

It was mostly just smooches that they were trading, but that didn’t keep her from taking a nibble here and there. Harry was very responsive to her nibbles, which she appreciated. She’d never been with a boy who got whimpery and breathy just from making out before, but she found it to be incredibly encouraging and arousing.

What made it extra hot was knowing he wasn't doing it on purpose because he knew girls liked stuff like that. It was just how his body was reacting to her. She was also well aware that her kisses had gotten him bricked up instantaneously. His warm stiffness was palpable between her thighs, despite being covered by his pajama bottoms.

If it had been any of the boys she’d kissed before, the erection would have freaked her out a bit, but as it was Harry she thought it was cute that he was so excited. He wasn't the only one feeling this way though. The damp panties she had on served as a casual reminder that she was getting quite excited as well.

Despite her wants, Y/N had been doing a great job of controlling herself… only that task became much more challenging when Harry started getting more comfortable, more intuitive, and by default, touchier. At some point in the course of their kissing, he’d started sliding his hands up her back and, on occasion, giving her hips a squeeze. He'd noticed she was pleased by this, so he worked up the nerve to lower his hands to her bum and squeeze her there too.

“Not feeling so shy anymore, are you?” Y/N playfully teased, to which Harry responded by smiling and hiding his face by pulling her in for a hug. It hadn't been her intention to rub up on him, but he’d drew her in so close that their bellies were flush together, so when she shifted next he felt it on his crotch… and moaned, all deep and throaty. They stared at each other, until Y/N turned her mouth to Harry's ear and asked, “Do you want this? want me to do it again?”

His nodding was quick. “Just don't go too fast, ‘cause uh... might feel too good.”

“Okay, got it.” She said, then held onto the pillow under Harry’s head, nails digging into fabric as she began to move slowly on top of him. Rolling her hips to press down on the bulge in his pants. The pressure on her clit was both a blessing and a curse. On the one hand, it was a relief to finally have a way to sooth some of the built-up tension, but on the other, it made her yearn for more friction.

She could feel his heavy, strained breathing against her skin. “Mm, it's too much, feels… too good. Ah-” He moaned again, once her fingers gripped at the roots of his hair.

“Shh, quiet.” Y/N covered his mouth and smiled. “I love your moans, but we have to keep it quiet.” She said, before removing her hand from his mouth and putting her lips in its place.

“I know, sorry.” Harry replied once she broke their kiss. “If I get loud again, you can repeat that hand thing if you want… it was hot.”

“Hmm, was it?” She returned her hand to his lips, but this time she allowed two fingers to go inside and prod into his mouth, that he was keeping slightly ajar for her. “That’s good, Harry. You're a natural at this, I think.” She had been straddling him with her body leaning over his, but she sat upright for a moment to appreciate how adorable he looked with her fingers in his mouth from farther away. As soon as he saw her eyes fixed on him, his lips encircled her fingers, and his tongue began to softly wriggle between them. “Mh-m... that's it. Just like that.”

As she started moving her hips again, Harry's hands shot to her waist, to hold her as she rutted against him. This gave her more balance, so she ramped up the pace, rubbing harder and faster to create the desired friction for her. The change caught up with Harry quickly, who began groan restlessly into her fingers in response. She pulled them off to let him speak. “S-slow... please go slower. If you don't, I'll-”

“Make a mess. I know. Give me your hands.” As per Y/N’s request, Harry slid his hands away from her waist and held them up between their bodies. Y/N took them, entwined their fingers together and then without warning, allowed her weight to fall forward, successfully pinning him to the bed. “I know you want to, but you're ashamed about doing it in your underwear. So, I was thinking… if I keep you like this and force it out of you, maybe you won't feel so bad about wanting it anymore. What do you say?”

“I just don't want to get you dirty, that's all. I thought I could keep it under control a little better, but I can't. It feels so much better than my hand.” Harry acknowledged, smiling shyly. “That sounds hot, though… the idea of you forcing it.”

“I know but don't worry about getting me dirty. I brought extra pjs.” She gave him a reassuring smile and squeezed his hands. “So…you want to do it, then? Since you think it’s hot…”

A delaying groan rumbled in his throat before his lips parted into a broad smile, the kind of smile you make when you’re on the verge of breaking into laugher. “I’m going be so embarrassed about this tomorrow, but yeah. I want to.”

Y/N shook her head at him, grinning. “Don't. I've always wanted to do this. It's a bit of a fantasy of mine, I guess.” She didn’t give him a chance to react to her confession, as she started rutting against his cock again. This time she wasn’t being gentle or avoiding any harsh friction. Her movements were quicker and jerkier than they had been before, and she tightened her hold on his hands as well. She had a hunch Harry liked the feeling of being held down and used, so that's what she was doing.

He was shivering beneath her, taking fast breaths through his mouth as he looked her in the eyes. The poor baby couldn’t stay quiet for the life of him, either. His whimpers and groans were unrelenting, so she was bound to muffle him once more.

His now-free hand joined hers over his mouth, but it didn’t linger there for long since he took hold of her wrist and started guiding it downward. “My neck,” He pleaded lowly, his voice trembling. “…want your hand on my neck.”

She gave him a devilish smirk before grabbing his throat. She only needed to hold him still; there was no need to squeeze or do anything else. “And I want your cum,” she told him, hoping that slipping in a few dirty words in combination with her movements would make him snap. “…want to get all wet from it.”

Harry’s legs jerked beneath her. “Close,” He warned, a little startled. “So, so close…” The fact that she could not only hear him but also feel his words on his throat as he spoke was incredibly arousing. “Please…” He pled sweetly, what triggered a sudden desire in Y/N's chest to be closer. She released her hold on his throat and hugged him tight as she drove her hips into his, rutting violently to make him orgasm.

It worked.

Between her thighs, Y/N could feel his warm juices seeping through the material of their pajamas. So she kept rutting, wanting to make sure she had extracted every last drop of them.

Harry returned her tight hug all the way through his climax, and he didn’t let go after either. They remained in that position for a while, holding each other close regardless of the slightly unpleasant wetness that was binding them together. “We should probably change right?” Y/N asked after a beat, despite her lack of want to wrest away from him.

“M-hm. I’m all gross and sticky.” Harry laughed. “I’m gonna need another shower in the morning, but for now, I think I'll just wipe it off and put on new boxers. I mean if you don't mind that I don't wear pants to bed…”

“No, I don't mind. I'm gonna take mine off too.”

“Oh. That's a great idea. Sounds perfect to me.” Harry playfully quipped, before he got out of bed and started opening drawers. “Also, um… I don't know how to ask without being weird, but could you close your eyes for a moment? so I can take care of myself real quick?” Y/N said yes and turned away to give him privacy while he cleaned himself and changed. She was a tiny bit surprised that he hadn't wanted to use the restroom for that, but she figured that since it was closer to his grandparents' bedroom at the end of the corridor, he probably didn't want to risk going and waking them up. “Okay… you can look now.”

When Y/N looked at him next, the first thing she noticed was that he had on a pair of tight, black boxers. The next thing she noticed was that Harry was looking at her legs, since, as he’d probably seen when he turned, she had also stripped off her pants in the interim, leaving just her grey panties on. “What?” He smiled in response to her curious gaze.

She wouldn’t bring it up, but she could see he had grown a little hard in his boxers just from seeing her sprawled in bed with no pants on. “Nothing, you’re cute.”

Harry snorted at that. “Thanks, but you're much cuter.” He wandered across the room to where the supermarket bags were. “Are you thirsty? Do you want water or a snack? ”

“Hmm, just water if that’s okay.”

Harry handed her the water bottle and sat down on the bed next to her while she drank from it. “You didn’t cum…” he pointed out after a moment of pause.

“Oh um… yeah. I didn’t. It’s okay though.” Y/N laughed, shrugged, and took another sip of her water.

“Hmm.” Harry hummed, before scooting a little closer to her. “It must be a bit of an unpleasant feeling, no? and hard to sleep like that.”

“It is a little until it goes away but nothing that I can't handle.”

“Hm.” He hummed again, before Y/N cocked her head to kiss his lips. She’d only meant to give him a peck, but Harry changed her plans when he leaned in to kiss her deeper. He seemed really eager to continue kissing and well, she wasn't about to say no to him. Especially when he went so far as to nibble on her lip, which he hadn’t done before. He was also getting handsy with her, and she loved it. He was touching her more and focusing on the spots he'd learned she liked.

“That,” She blurted, as she paused to catch her breath. “That feels really nice.”

“M-hm.” He murmured against her lips as he kissed her again. His hand continued to grab at her as they kissed, to the point where Y/N couldn’t take it anymore. She hadn’t meant to but ended up moving her knees apart out of desperation. Being so blatant almost made her feel ashamed, but she didn't because she felt Harry's palm wrap over her crotch. In response to his touch, she moaned into his mouth, and he moaned back, surprised at how her moisture had soaked through her panties. “Teach me.” He asked, softly. “I want to learn. I- um, want to make you go to sleep happy.”

“That’s so nice, Harry, really. I, um-” She smiled while wiping the tears forming in her eyes. “I’m already happy.” She didn’t know what was making her so overwhelmed with joy all of sudden. She’d always known Harry was boyfriend material, but it was still nice to see how much he gave thought to her needs and happiness. And she was happy. So, so happy to finally have him like this, all to herself. “Do you want me to show you how to touch?”

“Yes please. To make you feel good.”

“Okay.” She placed her hand on top of his. “Here,” she explained once she’d guided his fingers to the spot of her panties right above her clit. “Circular motions with your fingers feel really nice, so does pressure. You don't have to focus on just that spot though… the nicest feeling is when you rub there but also all over.” She glanced at him, then bit her lip and asked, “Wanna try?”

“Yeah, alright.” Harry responded, adjusting his position slightly so that Y/N could get more comfortable. They decided to have her sit between his legs, facing away from him since that would make it easier for her to lead him. Once they’d both settled, Harry began to touch her in the way she had showed him, moving his hand broadly enough to reach a little bit everywhere in between her legs. “Am I doing it right?”

“Mm-hmm, you're doing really good.” Y/N was still holding his hand while he touched her, and she was fascinated by the size difference between their hands. “Your hands are really big, which... makes it feel extra good.”

“Really? That’s nice. I'm definitely grateful for that.” He said while looking down as well. “Should I put more pressure, or is it okay as it is?”

“It’s fine but I wouldn’t mind a little more...” She could tell he was afraid of hurting her, and that’s why he was being so careful and gentle in his touching. She wasn’t planning on rushing him or constantly give him directions though, so instead she simply relaxed against his chest and let him probe at his own pace. Because, after all, even though he was playing safe, she was still thoroughly enjoying herself.

It took Harry a few minutes to figure out how much pressure and speed he should be using, but eventually he pressed and swirled his fingers around her sensitive nub in a way that felt just right. When Y/N’s breath faltered he glanced at her worriedly, what made her chuckle. “No, don't worry. You didn't hurt me. Keep going like that.”

Harry smiled at that. He’d had a feeling he was starting to get the hang of it due to the way Y/N’s breathing had become more erratic and she'd begun to quiver against him on occasion but hearing it from her mouth that he was doing a good job was much, much better. He was really looking forward to making her cum. She looked so good like this, flushed and a little out of breath. She'd been staring at his face a lot from over her shoulder in the last couple of minutes, biting her lip and letting out little gasps of pleasure to let him know he was making her feel good.

“Like that. Don’t stop.” Those quiet, whispered words snapped him out of his reverie. He knew what they meant, even before she told him, “I’m really, really close.”

He'd learnt from a meme he saw once that when girls said that, boys weren't meant to speed up or change what they were doing in the slightest. So he merely focused on adding a bit more pressure, since that was something he knew she liked, and trying to keep his hand's tempo.

Despite how hot he found it, Harry wasn't very comfortable with dirty talk, but seeing her like this and recalling the perfect, filthy words she'd said to him just before making him cum, he felt compelled to give it a shot. “I can feel how wet your panties are, it’s so hot.” He whispered into her hair. “I can smell it too and it makes me want to eat you so bad. I've never done it before, but I can't stop thinking about doing it to you.” Rather than trying to sound hot, he was simply stating facts about how she was making him feel, and somehow it was working. “I wanna make you cum like this first though. From rubbing it this way, like you taught me to.”

Harry's words, paired with the precise movements of his fingertips around her pussy got Y/N right at the edge. She trembled, clutched his wrist, and strained to keep her legs open.

“Please, please, please...” She started begging out loud right before the warm pleasure bubble on her belly popped, so Harry did the same thing she’d done to him and muffled her by putting his free hand over her mouth.

He hadn't anticipated being able to feel when a girl orgasmed, but he was. He could feel the strong pulse under his fingers as soon as Y/N started to cum, and it was one of the hottest things he’d ever experienced. He could also feel the damp spot on her panties becoming even wetter as he rubbed her through it and God, the smell… it was making his mouth water.

If she didn’t look so exhausted, Harry would have begged her to let him take off her panties and lick her clean, but those puffy, glossy eyes didn't permit his mind to stray any further. If there was one thing Harry understood about Y/N, it was how she looked just before falling asleep, and that was exactly how she was getting.

So he helped her into bed and laid down beside her, but his heart wouldn't let him fall asleep before he asked, “You’re staying for the entire weekend, right?” and his ears picked up a faint “M-hm” in return.

This was going to be the best weekend ever.

**

[jakexneytiri]

Hi, I can request dad! neteyam x reader, where we kiss children very much and for a long time (as we do our pets, cats are cool) hehe

hii!! yes you cannn 🥰

i want to preface this by explaining what pillow kisses are:

pillow kisses are when the parent sits beside their child, grabs both sides of the pillow that their head is resting on, and lifts it up enough so they can kiss the child’s forehead, then gently places them back down. it is a repeated motion, for as many letters as there are in the child’s name, or how many years old they are, the parent can choose.

pillow kisses

⊱✿⊰ ⊱✿⊰ ⊱✿⊰ ⊱✿⊰ ⊱✿⊰ ⊱✿⊰ ⊱✿⊰ ⊱✿⊰ ⊱✿⊰ ⊱✿⊰

“txonuk! nima! come. time to get out of the water.” neteyam states, standing at the edge of the water with you, se’ayl, and tsantu.

neither of them move, still treading in the shoulder-deep water, giggling to themselves.

“we’re going make a quick stop to visit grandma and grandpa!” you say, trying to convince them to get out of the creek. jake and neytiri’s marui was on the way for you, and the children never missed an opportunity to see their grandparents.

nima gasps, but remains in the water, smiling to herself.

txonuk remains unphased, apart from treading in place.

“don’t make me come get you two.” neteyam says, in a slightly threatening tone.

keeping her lips just below the water, nima giggles, her laughter bubbling to the surface.

txonuk dares to even tread backwards, floating along the surface.

“very well.” neteyam wades into the water, disappearing below the surface.

nima squeals, frantically splashing now, looking around for her father in the water.

suddenly, txonuk screams, as neteyam resurfaces, grabbing and throwing him over his shoulder.

nima screams too, trying to swim away to the edge of the water, but neteyam scoops her up in his arms, walking both of them out of the water on his shoulders.

“daddy, downnn!” nima giggles, her laughter infectious.

“you had your chance, my mischievous children.” neteyam uses the hand supporting each child to begin tickling them, causing them both to erupt in a fit of laughter, squirming in your mates’ arms.

you take se’ayl and tsantu’s hands, as you walk the short distance to jake and neytiri’s marui.

swinging your childrens’ hands in yours, you approach the outside of your in-laws' humble abode.

“grandma!!” se’ayl shouts, letting go of your hand, running to her grandmother’s side.

neytiri turns, smiling as she crouches down to hold her arms out. “my sweet grandchildren, what a nice surprise.” she says warmly, kissing the top of se’ayl and tsantu’s heads, wrapping her arms around them.

“we went swimming at the creek!” tsantu says, happily.

neteyam sets both nima and txonuk down, who run to hug jake’s legs.

“the creek, huh?” jake asks, tousling txonuk’s hair and picking up nima.

“gwampa!!” nima squeals, wrapping her tiny arms around jake’s neck.

he chuckles, running his palm up and down her small back. “hi babygirl. look atcha, you’re gettin so big! ” he lightly tosses her in the air, which she loves.

“again, again!!” nima squeals, clapping her hands together.

“dad? momma?” txonuk questions, grabbing each of your hands, swinging them back and forth.

“yes, my son?” you both answer in sync.

“can we spend tomorrow with grandma and grandpa?” he asks, before yawning, rubbing a small fist against his eye.

you and your mate exchange a glance, before neteyam answers.

“i’m not sure, txonuk. grandma and grandpa are very busy, i-”

“of course they can.” neytiri cuts her son off, smiling at her grandchildren.

tsantu yawns, leaning his forehead against your leg. “mama, i’m sleepy.”

“this one’s gonna be out like a light any second.” jake chuckles, gently rubbing nima’s back, who’s eyes are struggling to stay open.

“we’d better get them home for a good nights sleep, then.” you smile and pick up tsantu gently, caressing the back of his head. you didn’t care that he was fully capable of walking himself, he was still your first born, and your baby.

neteyam takes nima from jake, gently removing her arms from around his neck.

kissing your in laws goodbye, you and neteyam lead your children home for the night.

entering your own marui, your children pile in, plopping on the mat where you all sleep, exhausted.

“mamaaa?” se’ayl yawns, grabbing her pillow.

“yes, my little love?” you say, kneeling to lay tsantu down.

“can you do pillow kisses tonight, please?”

you smile down at your daughter, tucking baby hairs behind her ear. “of course i can.”

“me tooo! i want kisses too!!” txonuk says, grabbing his own pillow.

neteyam settles beside you, his tail tickling your lower back. grabbing both sides of txonuk’s pillow, he raises his son’s forehead to his lips.

“t *kiss* x *kiss* o *kiss* n *kiss* u *kiss* k.” *kiss*

txonuk giggles the entire time, and neteyam joins, finding his son’s laughter contagious.

“goodnight, my little warrior. i love you.”

“night, dad. love you” txonuk yawns, closing his eyes.

you raise se’ayl’s pillow up, gently pressing your lips to her forehead.

“s *kiss* e *kiss* a *kiss* y *kiss* l.” *kiss*

se’ayl smiles, resting her hand on your cheek as she yawns, saying

“goodnight, mama. thank you for the pillow kisses.”

“goodnight, my little flower. i love you”

“love you.” she mumbles, half asleep.

moving to sit beside tsantu, you repeat the process.

“t *kiss* s *kiss* a *kiss* n *kiss* t *kiss* u.” *kiss*

tsantu raises his hands to your face then, pressing his lips to your forehead.

“goodnight, mama. i love you.”

“goodnight, my little warrior. i love you more.”

neteyam gently raises nima’s pillow up, as she’s already asleep, quietly whispering

“n *kiss* i *kiss* m *kiss* a.” *kiss*

and gently sets her back down, rubbing his thumb against her cheek.

“goodnight my little flower, i love you. sweet dreams.”

finally, settling in for the night, you lay down next to your mate, trailing your fingers down his chest to his hip bone, and back up.

you lean over then, placing a plump kiss to his lips. he reaches up, cupping your cheek as he quickly deepens the kiss. before it grows to anything too intense, he pulls away, smirking before whispering “i can’t wait to have you all to myself tomorrow.”

“mmmmm. g’night. i love you.” you mumble against his chest, as the sound of his heartbeat slowly lulls you to sleep.

“goodnight, my love. i love you more.” he wraps his arms around you, before drifting off to sleep himself.

[lynzishell]

The Present 🤍 San Myshuno

Prev // Next

Transcript below the cut:

Phoenix: Hey. Dawn: [sniffles] Hey. Phoenix: Why are you sitting in the dark? Dawn: [shrugs]

Dawn: I was worried you wouldn’t come back. Phoenix: I just needed some time to cool down. I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that, I’m sorry. Dawn: It’s okay. You were mad. I don’t blame you. Phoenix: It’s not okay. I should’ve stepped away sooner. It won’t happen again, I promise.

Dawn: [nods] Are you still angry? Phoenix: Yes. But mostly, I’m hurt. And confused. Dawn: I’m so sorry. For everything. You have to believe me; I’d take it all back if I could.

Phoenix: I know. I just… I don’t understand why. I’m racking my brain, but I can’t make sense of any of it. Why did you do it? Dawn: I don’t know. I just… when I read the letter, and I learned about his life and his son, it felt important to… I couldn’t just disregard it, throw it away.

Phoenix: Okay. But why contact him? Dawn: I knew you weren’t ready to talk to him, but I hoped one day you would be. I guess it was just a way to leave that door open… just in case. Phoenix: But you knew that’s not what I wanted. It’s never been what I wanted. That’s not going to change.

Dawn: Well maybe it’s not just about you. Phoenix: What?

Dawn: What about Aspen? Doesn’t she deserve the opportunity to know her grandfather and her uncle? Phoenix: Aspen is fine. She’s surrounded by family. Megan and Alex, Atlas and Asher, they all love her, and they’re all here for her, and for us. Dawn: Megan and Alex aren’t her grandparents. Joseph is. And she deserves to know him. I couldn’t just turn my back on that. Why can’t you give him a chance? For her.

Phoenix: Dawn, I’m protecting her. Why would I allow that man into her life? Dawn: I really believe he’s changed.

Phoenix: Why? Because he said so? How many times did he tell my mother that he’d changed, only to show up wasted and belligerent? Hell, even Julian had to cut him off eventually. The man is full of shit. Why would I believe this time is any different? Why would I risk it when I have you and Aspen to think about? I don’t want her anywhere near him. Or your parents for that matter. What if it was them who’d reached out? You think the fact that they’re her “real” grandparents is reason to let those awful people into her life?

Dawn: Well, you don’t have to worry about that because they’d never care enough to bother! At least your dad cares enough to try! Do you know what I would give… [voice cracks] Phoenix: What?

Dawn: All I’ve ever wanted is for them to love me the way they’re supposed to. To care about me and my life, be there for the important moments. But no. Ash’s mom had to step in and do all the things MY mother should’ve been there to do. And I had to put a smile on my face and be happy about it because anything less would be ungrateful. And now what? They’re supposed to step in and pretend to be Aspen’s grandparents because her own don’t give a shit?

Phoenix: Dawn… Dawn: And then the one thing I’ve spent my entire life wishing for shows up out of nowhere in an envelope with your name on it, and you just want to toss it away like it means nothing.

Dawn: [crying] I’m sorry.

[clarisse0o]

Camp Wiegman-Part 32

Lucy Bronze x Ona Batlle

Alternative Universe : Military School

Words : 5k

Masterlist

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Friday, January 8; 12:45 PM - Ona and Alexia's Room.

I'm packing my suitcase while Alexia watches. The latest news has lifted my spirits. I've got the green light everywhere. Wiegman is allowing me to leave after my clean week. I was on time every day and didn’t snap back at any of my teachers when they provoked me for talking too much. Classes have become dull since we returned, as we're nearing the end, and there's nothing left to do. In two weeks, we'll finally change classes, and to my surprise, I got accepted into my first choice. Lucy couldn't resist filling me in on what went down in the meeting. It seems I barely made it, thanks to the support from Wiegman and my homeroom teacher, who found my efforts more than impressive. I managed to raise my average from six to twelve in just two weeks. That was proof enough for them of my hard work. I can't wait to find out about my new class and schedule now. Alexia, meanwhile, got into sports with her sister and Laia. As for me, I learned that I'll be with Leah, Alessia and Lotte. I'm pretty happy. At least I won't be alone.

- "What are you planning to do this weekend?" Ale asks me.

- "Nothing special. And you?"

- "I don't know yet. I really want to see Jenni, but I'm going to my grandparents' place."

I give her a sad smile. I feel sorry for her that she can't stay. I don't dare tell her that, unlike her, I won't be bored. Lucy is hosting me at her place this weekend. I've never been this excited, even though I try to hide it to avoid drawing attention. I'll finally get to see where my mentor lives. It’s a big deal.

- "Isn't Bronze coming to see you today?"

Oh, screw it. I'm tired of keeping secrets from her.

- "I'm going to her place..." I mumble quickly.

- "What?" she asks, her eyes wide.

- "Sorry... I know I should have told you earlier, but after your last reactions about her, I didn’t dare..." I say, biting my lip.

- "You could have told me! You know I'm not the one to criticize your relationship with Bronze."

- "Whoa, hold on. Our relationship doesn't go beyond friendship... At least, I think so. That's what she said we are..."

She chuckles at my nervousness. I playfully shove her, which makes her laugh even more.

- "You seem awfully nervous for a simple 'friendship,'" she teases.

- "It's Mapi and you who make me feel this way. I feel like we're doing something wrong. I assure you, I'm not interested in her the way you think."

- "Don't take it that way," she smiles. "I wasn't even talking about that kind of relationship. Anyway, I'm happy for you, or rather, for you. She never offered me friendship, so enjoy it."

- "I wanted to ask her about your relationship to see what she had against it, but I haven't had the chance."

- "Oh no, don't do that. The reasons don't matter to me. Besides, since you've been around, I feel like she appreciates me a bit more than before. But still, I've always wondered how you got close to her."

I sigh in resignation. Looks like it's time to explain everything to her. Mapi had already advised me to do so before she left — more like forced me. She argued that Alexia has a right to know if I trust her. I won't get a better opportunity to bring it up. I just hope Lucy never finds out...

- "To be honest, I confide in her about my past. She helps me deal with my demons, and that’s what brought us closer."

- "Oh," she says, surprised. "So she knows more than I do?"

- "She knows even more than Mapi," I chuckle at her expression. "I don’t know... Lucy has this way of making it easier to talk. It's like she understands my situation and has all the answers to my problems."

- "That's good, then. As long as it helps you, that's what's important, but be careful not to get lost in your feelings, because that can happen fast in situations like this."

- "Yeah... I know," I say with a small smile. "Well, I have to go. She's waiting for me outside."

- "Yep," she says, checking her watch. "I have to leave too. By the way, did you tell her about your nights?"

- "No."

- "You promised me you would," she scolds.

- "I know, but nothing's happened since then, so I didn't."

She gives me a stern look, showing her disappointment, as I expected. I can’t help it if she's naive enough to believe me. I've already got Lucy on my case about so many things. I don’t need her on this too.

- "It won’t come back to bite you, I promise."

- "Yeah, right. I wonder who knows her better between the two of us."

- "I'll take responsibility if she finds out. But I really have to go now. She'll scold me for taking too long."

- "Hmm... Have a good weekend," she grumbles.

I hug her and wish her a good weekend in return. Then I leave the room with my suitcase and backpack. Now that I’m out of sight, I smile with excitement. I reach Lucy's car, which she parked in the same spot as last time. I leave school without any regret. She might have refused to let me go back to Miami, but at least she didn’t stop me from leaving school. I told my mom that I’m staying with friends in Seattle using Alexia's phone. I also told Mapi the truth. I wanted at least one person to know what's going on. I’m not sure if Lucy has seen me yet. I assume she has when she opens the trunk from inside. Yet, when I join her up front, I find her on her phone. I give her one of my brightest smiles, expressing my current joy.

- "Hey," I say.

- "You're late," she reprimands, raising an eyebrow.

- "Sorry, Ale held me up."

- "Hmm."

- "Grumpy!"

- "No, that's you," she retorts with a wink.

I laugh as she drives off. She’s not wrong. Between the two of us, I’m the grumpy one. I always voice what’s wrong out loud. She tells me we need to stop by the supermarket to get some groceries first. It reminds me that she lives at school just as much as I do. It's strange doing something so mundane with her. I’m not used to seeing her outside of school. As usual, I watch the scenery go by, humming along to the music playing from the car speakers. After the second song by the same artist, I realize Lana Del Rey  is playing.

- "I didn’t know you liked this kind of music."

- "Now you do. You don't?"

- "Oh, I do. I like it, even if I don't listen to it often."

- "I didn’t either at first," she laughs. "I ended up liking it."

I smile as she sings the chorus. It’s the first time I’ve heard her sing, and I enjoy her voice. I turn back to the window. I can’t tell where we are. I imagine she’s heading towards her neighborhood. We arrive at the supermarket she mentioned earlier. She hands me a token to get a cart. This scene is a déjà vu moment from a few months ago. Without complaining this time, I fetch the cart and join her at the store entrance.

- "Anything particular you want for tonight or the rest of the weekend?" she asks as we go down the aisles.

- "Are you planning on cooking every day?" I ask, surprised.

- "There’s more to life than fast food, in case you didn’t know," she laughs.

- "No, my question was more about whether you know how to cook... You’re not planning on poisoning me, are you?"

- "Now that you mention it, that’s a tempting idea."

- "Ha, ha, ha! You’re really sadistic when you want to be."

- "I know," she smiles. "And yes, I can cook."

- "I can’t wait to see your cooking skills then. I might even compare you to Sam."

- "What I didn’t tell you is that you're going to help me."

- "Oh... Well, it’s up to you if you want your kitchen on fire," I joke. "Sam doesn’t trust me enough to let me help."

- "You’ll help, and I promise to make sure you don’t burn anything," she teases, stopping at the butcher's counter. "But seriously, what do you want to eat?"

I glance at the perfectly displayed meat. At least it looks appetizing. I choose chicken cutlets, and she picks up some other things that I don’t pay attention to. We continue down other aisles as she gradually fills the cart while I follow her.

- "You really can’t cook?" she asks, picking up the conversation again.

- "I never had the chance to learn. When we moved to Barcelona, Sam was always there. And in Portugal, I used to bake with my grandmother sometimes, but that’s it. I tried cooking with Mapi once, but it was a disaster. Sam really scolded us that day when he saw the state of his kitchen," I laugh, remembering.

- "You must not be very good," she laughs. "I wouldn’t mind teaching you a few things this weekend if you’re up for it."

Her offer surprises me. No one has ever asked me if I wanted to learn how to cook, not even Sam. I smile and nod. I like the idea. I’ve always wanted to learn deep down.

- "Why not. How did you learn?"

- "I’ve been living alone for several years now, so I picked it up over time. I was like you at first," she admits. "So you’re not a lost cause, I promise," she says, ruffling my hair.

- "Can you tell me more about yourself...?"

- "Why?"

- "I don’t know, I’d like to get to know you... The real you, outside of school. You know a lot about me, so I thought... Maybe it could be mutual now."

- "We’ll see. You might learn a few things about me this weekend."

My eyes light up. It’s the first time she hasn’t flatly refused this request. I was expecting her to brush me off. Our shopping comes to an end. At the checkout, she confirms that we’ll be going out with her friends tomorrow night. She asked me about it yesterday, and I was pretty excited. I’m curious to see what kind of people she hangs out with. Although I was hesitant about not knowing anyone, she reassured me by saying Ingrid and Jenni would be there. Once done, we head back to the car where we load the groceries in the back seat since the trunk is full of our stuff. I bombard her with questions until we arrive at her place, such as, "Are we in your neighborhood now?" and "How long have you lived in Manchester ?" She surprises me by answering everything. I learned that she’s been living here since her college years and moved here with Jenni. I gathered that their friendship and bond go way back and that they’re both from Portugal. Their friendship seems similar to the one I have with Mapi, though theirs probably goes back much further. She told me they were roommates in Jenni’s apartment before she got one of her own after they both started dating. Since then, she’s been living in the apartment she’s in now. This conversation kept us occupied until we arrived in front of a building. From what I can see, it’s a quiet, upscale neighborhood. The building’s exterior is inviting. I thought she would park outside, but she pulls into an underground garage with multiple parking spots and garages. I’m not sure if she has a garage, but she parks in a space.

- "Please tell me... Either you live on the ground floor or have an elevator, because I'm not climbing all those stairs with all our stuff."

- "What? Aren’t you in need of some exercise?" she teases. "Oh, right. You don’t like jogging.

"- "Ah, ah, ah! You told me we’d pick it back up when the weather was better outside!"

- "You pick it back up," she corrects me. "I never stopped. Come on, Miss Lazy, let’s move. We’ve got an elevator waiting."

I don’t hide my relief. I quickly follow her outside to help with our suitcases and the grocery bags. It’s a good thing there’s an elevator with all the stuff we have to carry. I learn as we press the elevator button that she lives on the seventh and second-to-last floor.

- "Thanks again for having me."

- "No problem. I hope you’ll like it."

- "I’m sure I will. It can’t be worse than school."

The elevator dings, and Lucy lets me exit first, pointing to her apartment door. She sets the grocery bag down to unlock the door. Once again, she lets me enter first. I step in hesitantly, taking in her apartment. I’m left speechless just seeing the living room. I didn’t expect something so beautiful and... my style. She gives me a gentle nudge so she can pass by and head toward the kitchen while I explore the space. It’s a large open-concept living area that stretches horizontally. I move towards the kitchen, which is in the back right corner. Everything is new. It’s a true American-style kitchen, just the way I love. It’s separated from the rest by a bar that hides the countertop. There are high stools in front, just like in my kitchen in Miami. A large light-wood dining table sits just in front of the bar, with black chairs that contrast with the brightness of the room. Most of the furniture matches the table’s color. When I look the other way, I notice that all the walls are white except for the left one, which is covered in dark gray brick. It blends harmoniously with the rest. A TV is mounted on that wall, with a large sectional sofa and a small wooden table. The two spaces are clearly defined. I don’t know where I’ll be sleeping, but even if she offers me the couch, I think I wouldn’t mind since it looks so comfortable. It’s probably more comfortable than my small bed at school. I only have one word: Wow. It’s a dream apartment!

- "Do you like my apartment?" she asks with a playful grin.

- "If you ever think about selling it... You’ll think of me, right?"

- "I’m not planning on selling it," she chuckles.

- "In that case, can you take me as a roommate? I promise I’ll be quiet on the couch!"

She laughs, saying she’s glad I like it so much, but unfortunately, she’s not looking for a roommate. I finally take off my jacket and help her unpack the groceries. I’m not much help since I don’t know where most things go, but she shows me where everything belongs. All her cupboards and the fridge were empty, proof that she’s hardly ever home.

- "Why get an apartment on your own when you’re almost never here?"

- "I wasn’t alone at first. I just kept it because I needed a place to go outside of work. Plus, you said it yourself... how could I give up an apartment like this?"

- "True, but still!"

I put away the last item in my hand, then settle on one of the high stools as she offers me a drink from the other side of the bar. I accept when I see her pouring herself something. She places it in front of me before leaning on the counter.

- "Why stay at the camp when you have an apartment like this? Seriously, if I were you, I’d come back every night."

- "It’s mandatory to stay... well," she corrects herself, "I volunteered to stay at first, and it just stuck."

- "But you never do night patrols."

- "Other instructors handle night surveillance."

- "Really? How many are there?"

- "Six. One per floor on both sides."

- "Still, your job really isn’t conducive to a normal life. You can’t even have a family life! Doesn’t that bother you? Well, I guess it wouldn’t if you don’t want a wife and kids."

- "Of course I’d like a relationship and maybe even a family if the person I’m with wanted that."

- "Then why don’t you leave the camp?"

- "I don’t plan on staying there forever. I have plans."

- "Really? You never told me. You’re not going to abandon me in the middle of the year, are you?"

- "No. If I leave, it’ll be at the end of the school year."

I sigh with relief. I can’t imagine finishing the year without her. She smiles at me before downing her drink in one go.

- "Come on. I’ll show you your room."

- "I’m not sleeping on the couch?"

- "Why, do you want to?"

- "It already looks more comfortable than my bed at camp. It’d be fine by me."

- "It is, but I also have a second bedroom. Which do you prefer?" she teases.

- "I think the bedroom will do," I say, making her laugh.

We grab our suitcases, and I follow her to the double doors in the middle of the living room, between the kitchen and the living room. She opens them to reveal a hallway with five doors. She skips the first two and opens the second one on the right.

- "Here’s your room. Mine is right across."

- "Thanks for welcoming me like this. You didn’t have to."

- "No problem," she smiles softly. "Well, I’m going to put my things away. Make yourself at home. The bathroom is there if you need it," she points to the door between the two bedrooms.

I nod, and she disappears into the room opposite mine. We leave our doors open, but I quickly lose sight of her. The room she’s offering me for two days is cozy and modern. I have a large double bed where I’ll likely sleep very well tonight. There’s also a desk and a chair that complete the room, along with two large lamps as decoration. For storage, there’s a large built-in wardrobe near the window with three large sliding doors, one of which is a floor-to-ceiling mirror. I love this type of wardrobe. They don’t take up much space and are very practical. The walls are white, but the dark furniture contrasts again. I put my suitcase down without unpacking. I don’t plan to impose myself by using the wardrobe. I don’t even know if there’s anything inside, and I don’t want to find out. I leave everything in place and go to join Lucy, leaning against her bedroom doorframe. I watch her put her things away in the same wardrobe as the one in my room. Her room is just as large as the other. There are just more personal items, and the desk is replaced by a small couch facing a small TV on a matching stand.

- "Already done?"

- "I just dropped off my suitcase. Your room is cool."

- "Thanks. You can come in, you know," she invites me.

I step timidly into the room and decide to sit on the bed, watching her put her things away.

- "Is yours okay for you?"

- "It’s perfect. Nothing could be worse than the one at camp anyway."

- "True," she chuckles. "And the one at home?"

- "Slightly bigger than this one."

- "You mean twice the size, I imagine."

- "Well... yeah," I laugh. "I can’t help it if my mom has money."

- "Oh, I didn’t say anything."

- "Your apartment would be perfect for me. It’s really nice."

- "Glad you think so. Do you want to go out tonight?"

- "Honestly? I’d rather stay here and do something low-key if you don’t mind."

- "Not at all. I was just suggesting. I’d rather stay in too. You could use some rest. You’ve had dark circles under your eyes lately."

- "Movie night?" I suggest to change the subject.

- "Why not. We could make a pizza to eat in front of the TV. And maybe some popcorn for dessert."

- "I love that plan. You know I adore you, right?"

- "Doesn’t take much, does it?" she laughs.

- "It’s nice to have a normal evening in a normal apartment."

She offers me a sympathetic smile. A comfortable silence falls as she finishes unpacking her things. She lives the life I’d like to have. I sincerely hope to get there someday.

- "Can I take a shower before all that?"

- "Sure, of course. You can go now. The bathroom is next to your room."

- "Okay, thanks."

I go to grab my bath things and pajamas from my suitcase. I step out of the room at the same time as Lucy. She decides to accompany me to show me how her shower works and to make sure I have everything I need. I doubt her instructions are necessary when I see how modern the bathroom is. She has a walk-in shower and even a clawfoot tub right next to it. It makes me feel like her apartment is huge. She has storage under the sink and a column next to it. There are also shelves where her towels are stored. She places a large and a small towel beside the sink for me. The last thing she does before giving me space is show me where the essentials, like the hairdryer, are. I put my things where there’s room, then undress to step into the shower. I close my eyes to enjoy the soothing hot water. I don’t stay too long, remembering I’m not at home. When I get out, I wrap myself in the large towel and do the same with the small one for my hair. I dry off quickly to put on my pajamas, which consist of an oversized T-shirt and shorts. She’s seen me in worse, so I shouldn’t feel self-conscious. Before returning to the living room, I dry my hair a bit more and make sure to tidy up and fold my clothes. I smile when I see her behind the bar, cooking. The environment feels strange, but it’s very pleasant. She smiles immediately when she sees me. I blush when I catch her eyeing me with surprise. She quickly regains her composure. For the first time, I see a hint of embarrassment on her cheeks.

- "Sorry, I didn’t expect you to come out dressed like that."

- "No worries... I thought it wouldn’t be a problem."

- "It’s not," she reassures me.

- "Do you need any help?"

- "No, it’s fine, I’m almost done."

I sit back on the bar stool I used earlier. I watch her sprinkle a handful of grated cheese over the freshly made pizza. I’m a bit disappointed she didn’t wait for me to make it.

- "It looks good."

- "You can tell me what you think when you taste it," she says with a small smile. "Can you keep an eye on it to make sure it doesn’t burn while I take a shower?"

- "Yep," I reply as she puts it in the oven. "Can I make myself useful in the meantime? Set the table, for instance?"

-«  If you want. You can bring everything over to the small table. »

She points out the cupboards and drawers before disappearing into the hallway. It's funny how easily we manage to coexist. I could easily get used to this. I take advantage of her absence to bring everything over to the small table in the living room, as she instructed. The TV is already on a music channel. I allow myself to sit on the couch and flip through channels to find something interesting. I realize it's been ages since I’ve done something so ordinary. My moment is interrupted when I hear the bathroom door open. Lucy’s return leaves me speechless. I fully understand the effect she had earlier. Unlike me, she’s wearing a tank top that flatters her perfectly, and her hair is pulled up in a messy bun that makes her look very cute. I can't stop staring at her. But she ignores me and checks the pizza in the oven. For the first time, I notice a tattoo on her arm. I didn’t even know she had one. I quickly turn away when she finally glances at me.

- "Caught staring, Batlle."

I blush furiously. I'm glad she can't see me right now. I don’t remember ever seeing her this undressed before. She must have been like this in front of me during my withdrawal, but I don’t recall. It has more of an effect on me than seeing her in her regular clothes instead of her uniform. I jump when her hand touches my shoulder.

- "I’m talking to you, Ona."

- "Sorry, I wasn’t listening. What were you saying?" I ask, mustering the courage to turn around.

- "I was asking if you’ve already picked a movie? Or maybe even a show?"

- "Hmm, I’m not sure," I say, thinking. "Harry Potter?"

- "Harry Potter?" She raises an eyebrow.

- "I’ve seen them all, but never in order. If you don’t want to watch them, I’ll do it alone when I have the time."

- "No, no, that works for me."

- "If you don’t like—"

- "I like the series," she chuckles. "I was just surprised by your choice. »

I smile and nod eagerly. I get up to retrieve it at her direction. When I return to the living room, Lucy has put the pizza on the small table and is sitting on the couch. I smile when I notice she’s serving us.

- "What do you want to drink?"

- "Water, please.

Lucy is already using the remote to find the first Harry Potter movie. This is even better than the evening I imagined. I take a sip of my drink as she starts the movie. I shift to find a more comfortable position. I groan when I realize I forgot to get my plate. Lucy laughs, understanding my dilemma, and brings it over to me.

- "Thank you," I whisper.

- "Go ahead, give it a taste."

She says this before taking her first bite. I had set out utensils, but it seems she doesn’t plan on using them. One thing is for sure: it looks delicious. I don’t waste any time digging in, making sure to keep my plate under my chin to avoid messing up her furniture. I moan in pleasure as the pizza’s flavors hit my taste buds.

- "Oh, damn. This is amazing!"

Lucy laughs at me. This pizza could be compared to one of the seven wonders of the world, and I mean that.

- "How did you manage to hide your culinary talents for so long?"

- "It’s just a pizza, you know," she laughs.

- "Exactly! I can’t imagine what it would be like if you made a proper dish. Sam has made me pizzas before, but they were never as good as this one."

- "We’ll see how yours turns out when you make one for me someday."

- "I already told you I’m a walking disaster. Sam even banned me from using his kitchen when he’s not around."

- "I’m not surprised," she laughs. "You seem close to him."

- "Yeah, he’s become a close friend. He’s really cool. I really should introduce you to all of them sometime."

- "That’ll be hard."

- "Not if we keep in touch after the school year ends..."

- "We’ll see," she smiles.

Our evening continues with various conversations while we enjoy her pizza. The movie serves as background noise. I don’t mind. The first Harry Potter is probably the one I know best from watching it so often. We waited until it ended before putting our plates in the dishwasher and making popcorn. We moved on to the second and then the third movie before deciding we’d had enough for the night. We were both exhausted from our week—especially me—so we decided to head to bed. I was more than happy to crawl into a comfortable, cozy bed where I had no trouble falling asleep.

Saturday, January 9th, 03:20 AM - At Lucy’s place.

I sit up in a panic, realizing that I’m trembling. I look around to remind myself where I am, which only makes me more anxious. I hope I didn’t scream or anything, but I quickly realize my hopes are in vain when the bedroom door flies open to reveal a worried Lucy. I try to hide my shaking, but it’s impossible as it worsens. Lucy quickly understands what’s happening and grabs my cheeks to make me look at her. I see her lips moving, but no words reach my ears. She pulls me into her chest. I resist at first, but eventually, I collapse into her embrace, desperately clinging to her shirt. It takes five minutes or maybe more for her voice to finally reach my ears. My senses slowly return. I bury myself deeper into her when I feel her fingers gently running through my hair.

- "It’s going to be okay. I’m here now."

- "I’m sorry. I’m so sorry," I repeat over and over between breaths.

- "It’s nothing, just a nightmare."

Tears stream down my face ever since she arrived. I’m sticky with sweat, but that doesn’t stop Lucy from holding me close.

- "I-I should have... I should have told you... Ale told me to."

- "Shh, calm down. I already know."

- "W-What?"

- "Alexia came to talk to me. I already know. I asked her not to tell you so you’d come to me yourself, so calm down."

She gently rocks me. It’s soothing, but not enough. Especially after what she just revealed. I panic when she tries to pull away from me. It only makes me cling to her tighter.

- "Hey, I’m not going anywhere."

At those words, I allow myself to pull back. Fear flashes in my eyes the second she gets up from my bed. She smiles at me tenderly.

- "Relax, I’m not going far. Do you want to sleep with me?"

I look at her in surprise. I didn’t expect her to ask that.

- "You don’t mind?" I ask, lowering my head. "Isn’t that crossing the line for a student-instructor relationship...?"

- "I suppose we can overlook that detail in this situation, and besides, we’ve moved past that point a long time ago... Come on, go lie down in my bed, I’ll get you some water, okay? I won’t be long."

- "Thank you..."

She helps me out of bed, and we leave the room. I walk straight ahead while she heads to the living room. The little light is on in the room. At least I won’t bump into any walls or furniture. I slip under the covers, choosing the spot near the wall. I think I picked the right spot, feeling the coldness set in. I pull the blanket up to my chin, clutching it tightly to find warmth. Lucy wasn’t lying when she said she’d be back quickly. She brought me a glass of water, just as promised. I sit up to drink it all in one go before handing it back to her. She places it on her nightstand and then lies down beside me. I immediately feel her warmth.

- "I didn’t know which side to take..." I say timidly.

- "You chose well," she reassures me. "Do you feel better?"

I nod, though it’s not entirely true. Her presence is comforting, that’s all. She gives me one last smile before turning off the light. I feel her shifting to get comfortable. Not sure how to react, I lie on my back, staring into the darkness. I jump when her arm drapes over my stomach.

- "Relax, Ona. Turn around."

I do as she says and turn my back to her. I’m not sure if this is the position she wanted, but it’s the one I want to avoid facing her. She doesn’t say anything, simply pressing her chest against my back. Her hand rests on my stomach, gently stroking it. She’s so close that I can feel her breath against my hair. I feel strangely safe. It’s as if my panic attack never happened.

- "Thank you..." I whisper.

She closes the small gap between us in response. Before I fall asleep, I let my hand rest on hers, as if to make sure she won’t leave.

[scary-grace]

Enough to Go By (Chapter 4) - a Shigaraki x f!Reader fic

Your best friend vanished on the same night his family was murdered, and even though the world forgot about him, you never did. When a chance encounter brings you back into contact with Shimura Tenko, you'll do anything to make sure you don't lose him again. Keep his secrets? Sure. Aid the League of Villains? Of course. Sacrifice everything? You would - but as the battle between the League of Villains and hero society unfolds, it becomes clear that everything is far more than you or anyone else imagined it would be. (cross-posted to Ao3)

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8

Chapter 4

You think about Tenko more now, but you’re allowed to – he’s your patient, and if he was your patient at the clinic, you’d expect to see him for a follow-up on the four gunshot wounds you cleaned and dressed. You’re allowed to think about him, so you think about him. You think about him a lot.

The thoughts take two directions. One is just wondering about him – how he’s feeling, how he spends his days, what he’s thinking about, what he thinks of you, whether he’s thought about you at all. The other is thinking about the situation he’s in. His parents and grandparents and his sister are dead. He’s been missing for fifteen years. He’s got a quirk and he’s a villain, ambitious and strategic enough to target UA High and escape alive, albeit badly injured. His guardian is a cloud of mist in a suit with some kind of split personality. And there’s someone else in his world – two someone elses. The doctor he referenced, who wouldn’t help him, and the one he calls Sensei, who gave him his new name and a hand to wear over his face and set him up to fail.

You think about Tenko a lot, but you can’t think about him all the time, because now that you’re a nurse, you’re twice as busy as you were before. The doctors expect more of you, and so do the other nurses – and so do the MAs and CNAs and high school students who are starting their apprenticeships, since you now have three years’ experience to go with your reputation for smoothing things over with difficult patients. Your friends keep you busy, too. They might call Kazuo to find out if something’s wrong with them, but they call you to find out what to do about it.

“You need to get a scan,” you say to Yoshimi for probably the fifth time. “I know you don’t want to –”

“It’s weird!”

“Not any weirder than whatever Yoji does when the two of you are at second base,” you say, and in the background of the call, someone snickers. If you had to guess, you’d say it’s Mitsuko – she has the guts to bully Yoshimi into making the call, combined with the brass balls to feel comfortable eavesdropping. “It’s called a mammogram. You’d have to start getting them at some point anyway, just like we all do. It’s just to make sure there’s nothing weird going on.”

“Stop it. You’re freaking her out for no reason.” Yoji’s there, too. “It’s probably just an STD.”

You’re stunned into silence for a second by the sheer classlessness of saying that about one’s own girlfriend, but you bounce back fast. “First of all, they’re called STIs, genius. Secondly, there’s not an STI on the planet that gives you nipple discharge. Yoshimi, get the scan. I’ll go with you if you want. Just get it done.”

“Can I do it at your clinic?”

“Uh –” You glance at the Imaging queue. Things look quiet, but you can’t count on that to last – but if you report Yoshimi’s symptoms, which include soreness, nipple discharge, and what she describes as a weird rash, you’re pretty sure the doctor on call will bump her to the head of the line. “Yeah, come in now. I can’t stick around after my shift, though. I have stuff to do tonight.”

“Ooh, stuff. Let me see –” There’s some rustling, which you can only assume is Mitsuko grabbing the phone. “Is stuff tall, dark, handsome, way too serious, and currently working as a sidekick?”

“That would be stuff,” you admit. “It’s not a big deal. We’re just grabbing a drink after our shifts.”

For the first time since you and Kazuo broke up, you have a date, and it’s Kazuo’s fault. Or maybe it’s you and your friends’ fault, because you decided to throw Kazuo a twentieth birthday party and invited a few of his friends from UA. One of those friends is Sugimura Hiroki, who fits perfectly with your type of dark-haired boys who want to be heroes and who’s so painfully shy that it took him six beers and the entire party to talk to you. You were sort of weirded out by that. You’re not very intimidating, and you spent the first half of the conversation trying to figure out if he knew you were quirkless, since you learned the hard way that it’s something you need to disclose up front. But the two of you eventually worked your way around to the point, which was that Sugimura wants to get to know you better, and he tripped over his tongue so badly that you finally just asked him out to end the suspense.

It’s taken you a while to actually schedule the date, but tonight’s the night, and you’re sort of anxious about it. Luckily, work is busy enough to keep you distracted. Your lunch break ends while Mitsuko is still going into increasingly nasty speculations about Sugimura’s physical attributes, and you hang up the phone without saying goodbye.

There’s a message waiting for you on your computer, from the front desk. FOF. Can you take him?

It’s not Tenko. You know Tenko wouldn’t come here again. You send the same message you did when it was him. How F are we talking?

Jumpy, talking to himself, chainsmoking. He’s in costume.

“In costume” could literally mean that the patient’s wearing a costume, but it’s also code for when the front desk thinks the patient’s a villain. You’re used to dealing with villains by now. Send him back.

When the knock on the door comes, you’re ready and waiting, and the CNA ushers in a tall man in a black-and-grey bodysuit – so “in costume” was literal this time around – and a paper bag over his head. You’re momentarily transfixed by the paper bag, and more so when you realize that he’s bringing a lighted cigarette to his mouth while wearing something highly flammable on his face. The CNA shuts the door and bolts. You face your patient and introduce yourself. “Have a seat if you feel comfortable doing so. What brings you in today?”

“I’m not – whole.”

That’s concerning. “Are you injured?” Your concern grows when he gestures at his face. “It would really help if I could see the injury. Can you take the bag off?”

He shakes his head. Instead he reaches into his pocket and produces a torn full-face mask. You look at him, then at him, putting the pieces together. “How do you feel right now?”

He doesn’t answer – maybe can’t answer – so you default to the face chart you use when little kids aren’t able to express how they feel in words. Your patient points to scared, stressed, anxious, angry. Then he throws in happy, possibly to mess with you, or to distract you from the fact that the first four emotions indicate that he’s ready to snap at any second. “How about this?” you ask, after thinking it over. “I can ask the doctor to give you something that will help you calm down –”

“Please!” The patient bursts out. Drug-seeking? “No, I don’t need it, sister! I’m so calm it’s hard to believe.”

“Okay, then we’ll just have it here in case you decide you want it. As an option,” you say, keeping your voice smooth and calm. “Either way, this is a quiet place to wait. You’re safe in here with me. And if you want, I can sew up your mask for you. Would that help?”

“You can do that?”

“Easily,” you say. “Can I see it for a second? I need to make sure I grab the right thread.”

The patient hands the mask over, which is a good sign. You’ve established at least a little bit of trust. You examine the mask and decide that you’ll need the thinnest-gauge needle and thread you have. “I can definitely fix this,” you tell the patient. “It might look a little rough, but it’ll cover you up like it did before. And it should last until you get where you’re going.”

The patient nods. You stand up. “I’m going to get some supplies, and a little anxiety medication if you decide you want it. I’ll be right back, okay? Just wait here.”

The patient nods again. Given how labile his mood is, you need to be fast about this, and get back before he gets upset or decides to leave. You step out the door and shut it behind you, heading for the supply closet, but you’re waylaid on the way there by one of the doctors. “We need you up front. Now.”

“I can’t. I have a patient, and he’s –”

“I don’t care. We’ve got a hero coming to visit, and we need somebody to keep things calm,” the doctor says. Shit. “Figure out what they want, get them as little of it as you can get away with, and get them out of here.”

“Which hero?”

The doctor shakes his head. Great. “Just hurry.”

You can’t go just yet. “My patient’s got a lot of anxiety and he’s in costume. I need him to stay calm. Can you –”

“2mg diazepam. I’ll put it in the chart.” The doctor unlocks one of the medicine cabinets, extracts a prefilled dosage cup, and hands it to you. “Go.”

Diazepam is long-acting. Hopefully long-acting enough to keep your patient quiet while you get rid of the hero. You skitter back down the hall with the dosage cup and hand it over to the patient, along with a tiny bottle of water to wash it down. “I’ll be right back. Just finding the right thread.”

The patient downs the pill dry, which is both good and bad for you. You shut the door again and head for the lobby. You don’t make it there. A cloud of black mist boils up around you, swallowing you whole.

By the time your feet hit the familiar wooden floor of the bar, you’re already out of patience. “No. Send me back right now.”

“Shigaraki Tomura has need of you. You will assist him.”

“Not right now I won’t. You snatched me from work,” you say. You’re facing the wall and the All Might poster again, and you don’t want to turn around. If you see Tenko, it’ll make it harder to say no. “If I go missing, people will notice. Is he dying?”

“No,” Kurogiri says.

“Is he in imminent danger of dying?”

“No.”

“Then send me back,” you say. If Tenko’s asked Kurogiri to get you, it means he needs medical assistance – or follow-up. You’ve needed to follow up anyway. “I can come back later.”

“No, I need you right now!”

“How much later?” Kurogiri asks, ignoring Tenko’s protest.

You think it over. You can dispense with the hero situation quickly, stitch your patient’s mask, and sneak out of work early. They’ll have to give you the emergency time off. You’ve never asked before in three years of working there. “Ninety minutes.”

“That’s too long. Kurogiri, don’t let her leave!”

“Ninety minutes. I’ll be in the alley behind the clinic.” You ignore Tenko, too, in favor of focusing on Kurogiri. He’s the one who decides if you leave or not. “All right?”

The mist wells up around you again, which counts as a yes. You land on your feet in the hallway, reorient yourself, and head for the lobby again. Tenko wants you again – needs you, your stupid brain corrects – but he’s going to have to wait for you to sort this out.

The hero in the lobby is Uwabami, the Snake Hero, and she’s got two sidekicks with her. No, students. You recognize one of them from your limited viewing of the UA Sports Festival and feel a spike of guilt run through you. She’s from Class 1-A. The same class Tenko tried to kill.

You don’t need to think about that, and you don’t need to feel guilty, because you didn’t do anything to her. You force yourself to focus. Uwabami wouldn’t have brought high school students here if she was doing any kind of investigating, which means your patient and any others who might be nervous around law enforcement are probably safe. The question of why she’s here still remains. You step forward. “Welcome to Yokohama Free Clinic South. What can we help you with today?”

“We’re on patrol,” Uwabami says. “My interns gave some feedback that our patrol involved a little too much publicity –”

The students look unrepentant. Good for them. “So we’re engaging in some down-to-earth patrolling,” Uwabami continues. “Tell us about how heroes support your clinic.”

Heroes don’t support your clinic. Most heroes strongly dislike the free clinic network, and the feeling is mutual, for a bunch of reasons you’re more than willing to articulate. Then you think better of it. Picking a fight with a hero in front of hero students is a bad move if you want to get out of here any time soon, and if you’re going to keep helping Tenko, you need to stay completely off the heroic radar. You focus on the students instead. “You’re on internships, right? They’re supposed to show you what life will be like as a hero.”

“Yes,” the girl who’s not from 1-A says. “They’re supposed to.”

“We have a program like that here, too,” you say. You gesture for them to come forward, and they desert their supervising hero at high speed. “A lot of our nurses and techs started working here in high school. Let me introduce you.”

You’re on much more solid ground talking about this. This clinic and this program saved your ass – without their sponsorship, you’d never have been able to get around your quirklessness as a barrier to nursing school, and you started getting on-the-job clinical training while most other nursing students were stuck in the classroom. You catch yourself evangelizing a little bit, but you don’t think it’s the worst thing in the world to do. You’re proud of the work you do as part of the clinic. It’s nice to get to talk about it.

You clear the hero students out in half an hour, hoping you’ve impressed them even a little bit, then hurry back to your patient. The diazepam’s kicked in nicely, and he chatters away to you while you stitch the tear in his mask. You learn that his name is Jin, or Bubaigawara, or Twice, which you’d guess are his first name, his family name, and his villain name, in that order. He doesn’t say how his mask got torn and you don’t ask, but you send him on his way in a better mood than before. “Thanks, sister,” he says on his way out the door. “You could be worse. You’re a saint!”

Different tone, different pitch, completely different meaning between the first sentence and the second. It reminds you of Kurogiri. You know enough villains now that you can compare them to one another. You shake your head, bemused, then head back inside. Time to guilt-trip your boss into letting you leave two hours early.

Your guilt-trip is successful, mostly because of how you handled the hero situation, but as you’re trying to sneak out, Yoshimi arrives for her scan. After you cajoled her into the office, you can’t abandon her to some random tech. You do abandon Mitsuko in the waiting room, though – she says the words “nipple discharge” as loudly as possible, then starts picking on the scant amount of makeup you did for your date. You don’t feel bad at all for leaving her behind.

Yoshimi’s scan goes quickly, and just like you feared, it nets her a follow-up appointment at the main branch of the free clinic tomorrow. Tomorrow’s your day off. You promise her you’ll go with her – you, and not Mitsuko or Yoji – then talk the doctor into sending her home with a dose of a different anti-anxiety medication than the one you got for Twice. Then you check your phone for the time. Almost ninety minutes exactly. You race out to the alley.

The mist engulfs you almost the instant you set foot in the alley, and you’re in the bar a moment later, facing Kurogiri. Tenko’s nowhere to be found, and before you can ask the question, Kurogiri turns and sets off through a doorway, deeper into the recesses of the building. You follow him, wondering if this counts as being taken to a secondary location. Or maybe the bar counts as the secondary location, even though you’ve been here before. Either way, you’ve listened to way too many of Mitsuru’s true-crime podcasts.

Kurogiri leads you into an absolutely filthy room. The floor is covered – empty wrappers, empty cans, old newspapers and magazines, plastic cases for game disks and chips. You have a bad feeling about who lives here, and when Kurogiri clears his throat and speaks up, you’re proven right. “Shigaraki Tomura. I have brought the girl.”

The only semi-organized spot in the room is a desk with two monitors on it, a keyboard in front of it, and Tenko slumped down with his head pillowed on one arm. He looks up, and for a split second, you can see that he’s happy even behind the hand. Then his face turns bright red and his expression twists into a snarl. “I told you not to bring her in here! Get out!”

You don’t need to be told twice. You duck out the door and retreat about twenty feet down the hallway, listening as Kurogiri tries to placate Tenko. “You asked for her to be brought to you immediately, not for me to summon you when she arrived. I followed your orders to the letter.”

“I didn’t want –” Tenko breaks off, swears. Then he mumbles something, and Kurogiri chuckles. “Don’t laugh at me!”

You check your phone. You aren’t supposed to meet Sugimura until eight, but you’ve got no idea how long this particular encounter is going to run. You might need to tell him you’re running late. You’ve just sent the text and tucked your phone away when Kurogiri reappears. “We will return to the bar,” he says. “Shigaraki Tomura awaits you there.”

So Kurogiri warped him to the bar. You wonder what that was all about. Was Tenko embarrassed that you saw how filthy his room was, or just embarrassed that you saw his room at all? Or did he change his mind about wanting you here? The last thought upsets you. You follow Kurogiri back into the bar and find Tenko sitting at the counter. It’s an improvement from the last time you saw him, when he was sprawled out and bleeding from four gunshot wounds, but this time he’s got his arms crossed, clearly pissed about something. His face is still red behind the hand. There’s a bloodstained bandage taped to his right shoulder.

A pile of supplies appears on the bar as you come closer. “What happened this time?”

“It wouldn’t stop bleeding.” Tenko uncrosses his left arm to gesture at the wound. “This is the fourth one I’ve used.”

If he’s gone through four bandages, it must be pretty deep. “How long ago did it happen?”

“Two hours,” Kurogiri says. “Shigaraki Tomura sent me to retrieve you immediately.”

“Can you fix it or not?” Tenko snaps.

“I need to see it first,” you say. You come a few steps closer, sit down facing Tenko on the barstool next to his, and reach for the bandage. He doesn’t stop you from unwrapping it, and you detour to glove up before you start peeling the fabric of his shirt back from the wound. It’s oozing blood rapidly. It’s jagged at the edges, and deep – if you suctioned the blood away, you’d be looking at exposed muscle, and you’re so horrified by the fact that Tenko’s been badly hurt again that you ask a question you shouldn’t. “How did this happen?”

“Hero Killer,” Tenko says, and your stomach lurches. “I thought he might be useful, but he’s just like the rest of them. Obsessed with the precious Symbol of Peace.”

You don’t know very much about the Hero Killer, except that he kills or cripples heroes and he’s not in Yokohama any longer. Tenko’s still ranting. “Why can’t anybody shut up about All Might? Don’t they know –”

“That he’s not gonna fuck them?” you interrupt, and Tenko nearly chokes. “I guess they can dream.”

Tenko’s expression is contorting behind the hand. You’re pretty sure it’s not the result of your explorations of the wound, because you’re not touching it. You watch, concerned, as his shoulders shake and his mouth twitches, until awkward, rusty laughter finally issues from his mouth.

You always try to make people laugh. You’ve been in the habit since you were little. It’s an effective strategy for defusing tension, whether the joke is funny or not, and your jokes are usually at least kind of funny. But you always liked making Tenko laugh when you were kids. You were always just a little prouder of that than you were with other people. Tenko made people smile all the time. He deserved for somebody to make him laugh, too.

Tenko’s laughter is brief and uneven, because he’s trying to get it under control. “Stop it,” he finally snaps at you. His mouth is still twitching. “It’s serious.”

“Right,” you agree. But you can’t resist another joke. “It would be a novel strategy. If you can’t beat the Symbol of Peace, make him unfuckable instead.”

“I can beat him,” Tenko says, but his voice is strained to the point of snapping, and his shoulders are shaking again. “Can you fix my arm or not?”

“I can fix it,” you say, “but I’ll need a suture kit. And I’ll either need to cut your sleeve or you’ll need to take your shirt off.”

“I’m not taking my shirt off.” Tenko’s face is red again. “It’s ruined anyway. Just cut it.”

You cut his sleeve open from the neckline and peel it back, then go looking through the medical supplies. Kurogiri took your advice about additions to their supplies, and nothing turned up missing at work, which means they honored your request to steal from someone else. You’ve got local anesthetic this time, which is good, because you need it. You start numbing the edges of the wound, asking every so often if Tenko can feel what you’re doing. When he stops saying yes, you open the suture kit.

It’s a bit weird, but putting stitches in is one of your favorite parts of the job. You can get in the zone with it, even when the patient wants to talk. Tenko wants to talk. “People talk about the League of Villains out there. Don’t they?” he asks. You nod. “What do they say?”

“Um –” You’re not sure this is an answer Tenko wants to hear. “They’re wondering why the attack on UA happened.”

“What do you mean, why?”

“Like, if there was a message behind it,” you elaborate. You need to be careful, with the stitches and with this line of thought. “More than just killing All Might, because lots of villains want to do that. If there was a message, it didn’t get out. The police and UA haven’t shared much information – not even how the breach happened in the first place.”

Tenko scoffs. “They don’t have a clue. They won’t see it coming the next time we hit them, either.”

He’s planning something else. Your blood runs cold, and for a moment you’re torn about whether or not to ask. Tenko makes the decision for you. “What else do they say about the League?”

“Not very much, otherwise,” you say, and Tenko swears. “There are a lot of villains, just like there are a lot of heroes. People talk about the ones they see the most of.”

“Which heroes do you talk about?”

“I don’t really talk about heroes.” You tie off a stitch, trim the thread to the appropriate length, and take another. “One of my friends has this nasty crush on Endeavor, so we talk about him sometimes, but otherwise – no.”

“Your friend has a crush on Endeavor,” Tenko repeats.

“Like I said. Nasty.”

You’re conscious of Tenko staring at you, and you will your face not to heat up under his gaze. You don’t even know why he’s staring, and you’ve got stitches to do, so it doesn’t matter. Your phone buzzes in your pocket – probably Sugimura, probably confirming your date. A date you’re not sure you want to go on anymore. Did you ever really want to go on it? Or did you just say yes because –

“You look weird.”

You look up from the stitches, startled. “Huh?”

“You look weird,” Tenko repeats. “Your clothes are different and you’ve got stuff on your face.”

Tenko and Mitsuko feel the same about your makeup skills, apparently. “Sorry.”

“Why do you look like that?” Tenko presses. You tie off his next stitch. “Are you going on a date or something?”

You answer without thinking about whether it’s the smart thing to do. “Yes.”

It’s quiet for a long stretch of seconds. “Go on your date, then,” Tenko says. His voice is flat. “I don’t need you.”

It stings. You don’t want it to, but it does, and you look down at the cut on his shoulder so he won’t see it on your face. “You still need a few more stitches. At least let me finish them.”

“No. Get out.” Tenko jerks out of your grip. You barely have enough time to cut the hanging thread on your last stitch. “I don’t want you here. Kurogiri –”

“Shigaraki Tomura, I’m not sure that’s wise.”

“I didn’t ask you!” Tenko swats at you open-handed and you leap backwards. “Get out! I don’t –”

You don’t hear the end of that sentence. Kurogiri warps you away too fast, and possibly saves your life. He drops you back in the alley behind the clinic, holding half a suture kit and still wearing bloodstained gloves. You peel them off and dump them into the garbage, furious with yourself. You shouldn’t have said that. You shouldn’t have talked about your life at all, and above all else, you should have remembered that you were talking to a villain, not your best friend – that whatever’s left of your best friend isn’t enough. He’s angry with you, and he’s been having you followed. Just how angry is he? Angry enough to hurt you? Or angry enough to never talk to you again?

You’re sickened and more than a little scared to realize that you’re more frightened of the latter possibility than the former. It’s entirely possible that you’ve never been in less of a mood to go on a date.

But you do go on the date, because you said you would, and it’s – fine. There’s nothing to complain about, but there’s nothing to be excited about, either. You and Sugimura hug to say goodbye, and you promise to text each other about setting up another one, and then you walk home. Mitsuko texts you, wanting details, or DETAILS, but you’ve got nothing to share. It was just a date, and no matter how many times you try to tell yourself otherwise, you’re angry about it.

Not because of Sugimura asking you out, not because you agreed, not because you went. Because you told Tenko and gave him a reason to get rid of you. Why does this keep happening? Why do you keep finding him and losing him, over and over again? What is it going to take for you to hold on?

“So how was the date?”

The voice emanates from the alleyway on your right and you nearly jump out of your skin. Tenko’s there, hand down from over his face, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest. He hasn’t changed his shirt. “I didn’t think heroes were your type.”

“They aren’t.”

“Then why were you on a date with one?”

“He asked.”

“And you just go with whoever asks?” Tenko looks half-incredulous, half-disgusted. You shake your head. “Forget it. Come with me.”

You shake your head again and take a step back – away from the alley, closer to the street. Tenko looks frustrated. “Come with me,” he repeats.

“What, so you can kill me?” You take another step back, well into the glow of a streetlight. You see shock flicker across Tenko’s face. “I don’t have a death wish.”

“Well, I don’t want to kill you,” Tenko fires back. He looks surprised at himself for saying it, but only for a moment – then he repeats himself, with more conviction. “I don’t want to kill you. You’re supposed to be my sidekick.”

Your jaw drops. “You remember?”

“I don’t remember everything.” Tenko takes the hand called Father out of the back pocket of his pants and studies it for a moment. Then he puts it away. “I remember that.”

Some kids played a different game every day. You and Tenko always played the same one, with a rotating cast of classmates at your side. All the heroes in the world were working together to fight one big villain, the worst villain the world had ever seen, and Tenko could never decide which hero he liked best, so he played a different one every day. But no matter which hero he played, no matter who else was playing with the two of you, you were always his sidekick. You reminded him every day that you didn’t have a quirk, and he always said the same thing in response, no matter which hero he was pretending to be that day, even though he didn’t have a quirk, either: You don’t need a quirk to be on my side. My quirk’s enough for both of us.

“Come on,” Tenko says again. He holds out his hand, three fingers and his thumb folded down, his pinky finger extended towards you. “Are you coming or what?”

You’ve never seen the world in black and white, but some things are unmistakable: There’s a line here, not visible to others but clear as day to you. On one side of it is Tenko and the darkness that’s swallowed him, the evil that surrounds him, the terrible things he’s done and is planning to do. On the other side is everything else – your dreams, your friends, your family that’s always loved you but used you anyway, a world that’s punished you time and time again for being born without a quirk, the knowledge that the world is so much crueler to so many others. You don’t think Tenko’s planning to kidnap you, to never let you leave. You’ll come back here, physically. You’ll go home and go to sleep and wake up early on your day off to take Yoshimi to her appointment at the main clinic, but you know instinctively that if you cross this line within yourself, there’s no coming back. Tenko was your best friend when you were five years old. Is he worth it?

You hate yourself for asking the question. You leave the light behind and link your finger with Tenko’s. “Where are we going?”

The black mist rises and wells up around you both. “You’ll see,” Tenko says, and for the first time since you found him again, he smiles.

[dreamerinthemoonlight]

Lisichka

Request: Hii ! I hope it's okay to request Tartaglia and (a very shy) childhood!reader reuniting after many years and pining for one another? Reader knows him very well so they're not rlly shy around him...until they developed a crush on him. Which makes them timid and mildly awkward around him, and it really shows more and more. I had a thought of what if Tartaglia also has a crush on them around the same time? I hope this is okay and have a good one! ♡

Summary: Tartaglia returns home after fighting the narwhal. You try to avoid him, unwilling to face your crush after so many years, but he manages to meet with you anyway.

Note: Lisichka means little fox

cw: none

Word Count: 1081

Tartaglia x gn!reader

“Have you heard? Ajax is back.”

You’re walking around the local market when you catch wind of the first rumors. The speaker--one of the old women who spend every market day discussing everything from local drama to the contents of this month's delivery of various newspapers--speaks in a hushed voice.

“That’s only news, Marya. My husband has already been to Lev and Anya’s place. Ajax looked pretty beat up.”

If Marya’s question hadn’t caught your attention, the second speaker would have. 

You lift your groceries and approach Marya and Elizaveta.

“Ajax is back?”

Elizaveta gives you a measuring look. “I’m surprised you didn’t know. You spent so much time with the boy before Lev sent him off to join the Fatui.”

“You mean until they started avoiding him.?”

“Yes, yes. And blushing like---”

“I’ve been helping around my grandparent’s house,” you blurt. “So no, I hadn’t heard.”

Elizaveta chuckles. “In that case, yes, Ajax has come home. You should go visit him. I’m sure you’ll make his day.”

“I’m not sure he’d remember me.”

“Nonsense. I’d put money on the opposite being true.”

You sigh and tighten your scarf around your neck. “I’ll think about it. But I still have shopping to do. Have a good day, Mrs. Marya, Mrs. Elizaveta.”

Several days later, you walk up the path to Ajax’s home, a heavily wrapped pot of soup cradled in your arms.

A boy with a shock of red hair sits on the porch with a toy ruin guard in hand.

“Good day, Teucer. Is your mother around?”

Teucer looks up and grins. “Big Brother! Y/N is here!”

“Teucer,” you groan, “I’m not here to see Ajax. In fact, please give this to your mother. Tell her Katia sends her regards and that we hope Ajax gets well soon.”

You place the soup next to Teucer and hurries back down the path.

This was such a bad idea, you think to yourself. I can’t ever keep a straight face when he’s concerned.

Ajax steps out of the house, smiling into the collar of his thick, woolen coat.

Unbeknownst to you, the young harbinger watched the entire thing.

He picks up the soup and looks down at Teucer. “Did you say thank you?”

“I didn’t have a chance,” Teucer pouts. “Why are they acting so weird?”

Tartaglia laughs. “You’ll understand when you’re older.”

A few days later, you find yourself sitting on the bank of a lake. 

You keep your eyes trained on the hole you made and the line disappearing into the water.

This is the only place in town where there aren’t curious looks and questions about Ajax’s health. It’s the one place where you don;t have to be reminded that after so many years of being his friend, you’re now too cowardly to meet him face to face.

You’re so caught up in your thoughts that you don’t hear the snow crunch behind you, though the footsteps are soft enough that it could be any small animal.

“Lisichka, Lisichka. Are you done running from me?”

The familiar nickname startles you out of your reverie.

You turn, ever so slowly, to find a pair of bright blue eyes twinkling at you.

“I never ran from you.”

Ajax sits next to you. “Are you sure about that, Lisichka? I recall that before I left to join Fatui, you wouldn’t look me in the eye. And I saw you run from my house the other day.”

“I---”

“Got a bite yet?” Ajax changes the topic of conversation, much to your relief.

“No. Not yet. Though I might not, now that your pretty face is here.”

“If a pretty face is all it takes to scare off the fish, you must never catch a thing.”

You open your mind to reply, only for your brain to finally register your words and his reply.

“I--- How are you feeling, Ajax? I heard you were hurt.”

This time you’re the one to change topics, though you’re certain he’s aware that it’s a desperate attempt to keep from addressing the proverbial bear in the room.

Tartaglia holds out a hand and you frown at the clear tremor. “Fontaine was a little rough,” he admits. “I don’t recommend fighting a whale for a couple months.”

“A whale? How do you fight a whale?”

“Not easily. And I lost miserably. I don’t like Fontaine’s Iudex--though I want to fight him again one day---, but I’m not sure I’d have survived if he and the traveler hadn’t intervened.”

“You were never careful with yourself,” you comment. “Even less so after your three day disappearance.”

Ajax huffs. “This wasn’t my fault. There was a lot of weird stuff going on.”

“Uh-huh. I’m sure. You know you go looking for trouble and when you aren’t it has a habit of finding you.”

“You know me so well, my Lisichka.”

“I thought we were too old for pet names like that, Ajax.”

“Says who? You were my Lisichka when we were kids. Why can’t you be now?” 

You raise your eyes to the sky, where the constellations lay hidden.

“Because if you keep using pet names like that, I’m going to get the impression that you’re not just a childhood friend.”

Ajax reaches over and cups your cheek, turning your face so that your eyes meet his. “If you did I would be awfully happy. I’ve been trying to get your attention for years.”

“You mean…”

“Silly fox, I have liked you for a while now.”

“I bet I’ve liked you longer.”

“You wanna bet?”

Tartaglia tosses your fishing rod to the side and opens his arms to you. “Will you be mine?”

You let him pull you close, brows furrowing when the movement makes him stiffen. You rest a hand on his shoulder, feeling the bandages that deform his sweater.

“Of course, but please, please be more careful.”

“I love you, Lisichka, but I can’t make that promise.”

“I know. It was worth asking.”

As you start to doze in the safety, you can’t help but ask, “Why Lisichka?”

Ajax laughs, smiling into your hair. “Because, a teenage me had no other way to flirt with his best friend and you looked so cute playing in the snow.”

You join him in laughter. “I guess you win.”

“Oh?”

“I started running from you because I realized that I wanted it to be more.”

You yawn, eyes fluttering shut.

“Sleep, Lisichka. I will be here when you wake.”

[lisbeth-kk]

May Prompts (16) Experiment

The Luckiest Girl in the World (chapter 16) This chapter will make little sense if you haven't read chapter 15.

Summar: John tells the residents in 221B, Liwia included, what he experienced at work that day. Sherlock can barely keep his hands off John when he tells the tale...

Sixteen Years Old

It was clever of Liwia to turn to us for help the summer her grandparents visited London. After only a couple of days at home, she texted me one late evening that she couldn’t stand another minute in the presence of her prejudice family members. I told her to bring her belongings to school the next day, and that she could come to Baker Street with me that afternoon.

Papa’s reaction when I told him and Dad that Liwia was coming to stay later that day, earned him a stern look and rebuke from Dad.

“A bit not good, Sherlock!”

“What? It is an experiment having an outsider living with us. It’s never happened before. How will the dynamic change? Do we have to provide different kinds of food? Is she allergic? How’s her sleeping patterns? It’s fascinating, John!”

Dad threw his arms in the air and gave up further pestering, while I tried to hide my smile, quite unsuccessful.

***

It all turned out just fine, though. Dad and Papa welcomed Liwia warmly, and I was thankful that they didn’t add fuel to the fire by telling her about their own experiences with bigotry, but instead asked about school, her lacrosse matches, Polish food, travelling and her girlfriend, Bella. Liwia wisely declined the proposal of a game of Cluedo. 

(I must ask her someday if she’s still traumatised after witnessing me and Dad fighting over Scrabble.)

***

When the tables turned, Dad was in the middle of it by just being his wonderful self. He was at work and had said his goodbyes to his last patient for the day when he heard raised voices from the waiting area. A male voice sounded threatening, or maybe accusatory. It worried him that Sarah was alone out there, so he stepped out of his office to investigate.

An elderly man, holding his left arm to his chest with his other arm, was crimson in the face with anger and pain. He was accompanied by a familiar man Dad realised was Liwia’s father. The latter tried to reason with the man, who only could be Liwia’s grandfather, in Polish, but he was brusquely cut off with what sounded like a command. Dad recognised a military man when he saw one, straightened his back and went into battle like the brave man he was.

“What seems to be the problem, Sarah?” Dad inquired and looked sharply at the two men in front of her.

A relieved sigh escaped her, and she breathed his name reverently.

“John, this gentleman…”

Said “gentleman” interrupted angrily.

“No woman. Want real doctor. Man,” the elderly man spat.

It was time to bring in the heavy artillery, Dad thought. 

“Rank?” he commanded.

“Kapral,” the man said instinctively.

“Corporal, I am Captain John H. Watson, also a real doctor. My office. Now!” he ordered, turned on his heel after the other man had saluted him, not without effort due to his injured arm, and marched back to his office with a satisfied smirk on his face.

***

“Get a grip, Papa,” I scoffed after Dad had told us the story.

He all but drooled and I could see his fingers itched to grab on to Dad to snog him senseless. For once, he had the decency to refrain, presumably out of courtesy for our guest.

“You gave Dziadek a lecture in why women are as capable and valuable as men?” Liwia asked incredulously.

“I did,” Dad said matter-of-factly. “Asked him what his mother would’ve thought of his behaviour towards Sarah, linking it to you while I was at it. I took a chance there, but quite a few men of his generation, put their mothers on a pedestal, and they’re also terrified of them, which proved to be correct.”

“You’re a wonder, John,” Papa beamed and couldn’t resist any longer, but gave Dad a searing kiss.

I rolled my eyes, but Liwia just looked dreamily at the two men. She told me later that she was in awe over how freely they showed their love for each other.

***

The next day, we were all in for quite the surprise. Nana called upstairs that we had visitors. Liwia and I were watching Pride and Prejudice, Papa was tidying up the kitchen table after an experiment, and Dad was in the shower.  

When Liwia’s father and grandfather stood in the doorway, she froze, I stopped the film, and Papa emerged from the kitchen to greet our visitors.

“What are you doing here?” Liwia whispered to her father.

“Your Dziadek wants to apologise,” he retorted. “And to meet Rosie and…”

“Dzień dobry,” Papa greeted in Polish and extended his hand to the elderly man.

He looked sceptically up at Papa, who towered over the smaller man. Eventually his good manners won, and he shook Papa’s hand. Papa and Liwia’s father shook hands as well, and that’s when Dad turned up.

“Hello, again,” he said casually, as if it was a frequent occurrence to have his former patients visiting.

“Captain. Doctor,” Liwia’s grandfather stuttered quite bewildered. “Who sick?”

“No one, I hope,” Dad answered and snaked his hand around Papa’s waist. “I live here.”

***

Miracle of miracles; that encounter changed everything, so in the autumn of my sixteenth year, Liwia and I went to Poland with her parents to visit her grandparents. They apparently considered me family now. 

A big party was planned because of our visit, and their flat was filled to the brim with people. In the kitchen, Liwia’s grandmother, her sisters and Liwia’s mother cooked all sorts of Polish delicacies. They were loud and cheerful and constantly made me taste the different sauces, ragus and soups. I just knew a few words in Polish, but it didn’t seem to bother them that I was unable to understand most of what they were telling me.

The entire affair was casual, chaotic, and vibrant. It was the next best party I’d ever been too. Dad and Papa’s wedding topped that list obviously.

***

Our visit to Auschwitz and Birkenau the next day, stood in stark contrast to that joyous day, but that’s life for you. Filled with all sorts of different emotions and experiences.

Also available on AO3

@calaisreno @totallysilvergirl @keirgreeneyes @helloliriels @raina-at

Further tags in the replies

[sissylittlefeather]

Blue Moon: a Pacer Burton Story

A/N: I've been wanting to write a Pacer (from Flaming Star) fic for a long time because I love him so much. Then he started appearing everywhere in my face and it felt like a sign that it was time. This also has hints of @pebbles403's fabulous Pacer AI, so I have to give a shoutout there. If you like this fic, you'll like that character! Oh, also, reader is half Native, but looks Native, so use your imagination if that's not you.

As always, thanks to @ccab for listening to me whine and cuss as I write 😂

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, although this one is pretty tame, kissing, p in v penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie, both characters are virgins, so mentions of pain during sex, also references to racism

Word count: ~4.1k

When the half-Kiowa man came through your village to declare his loyalty to Buffalo Horn, you knew you were supposed to look away. But you couldn't. You couldn't tear your eyes away from the only person you'd ever seen who was like you: half-white, half-Kiowa.

Your Kiowa father had married your white mother in a ceremony that was both hopeful and condemned. It was hopeful because your grandparents believed they might be a bridge that would help both sides learn to live in peace. It was condemned because that was never going to happen. As the war continued to rage, their union became more and more of a problem. The white people rejected your mother and the Kiowa people began to question your father's decision. This was especially true after you were born. No one knew what to expect when your mother was pregnant. Would you look like her? Would you look like your father? Or would you be a blend? Your mother's family was beyond disappointed when you were born with your father's dark hair, dark eyes, and dark skin. Nothing of her blood won out in the battle inside you. And your father's people would never quite get over how you looked like one of them, but weren't one of them, just enough to make them wonder about you.

So you grew up on the outside, never knowing what it would feel like to be a part of any group. Although you lived among your father's people, they laughed and jeered and called you "white-face princess" despite your skin tone that matched their own. And the one time your mother took you home to her people, your aunt refused to acknowledge you and your uncle called you a "filthy little half-breed".

You had no people, no place. All you had were the judgmental stares and mocking whispers of everyone who knew where they belonged, as if you had any choice in where you came from.

So when Pacer Burton rode into your town on horseback, you couldn't help but be drawn to him. You had a burning desire to ask him if he knew how you felt, a never-ending buzzing in your soul that needed to hear his experience.

But he was busy with Buffalo Horn and the war. You had seen him before when he would come with his mother, always carrying himself like a white man, not quite embracing who he was as a Kiowa. This time, though, he came to your father's people as one of them. Everything about him had changed and for the first time you felt like he might actually listen if you spoke.

Still, there was no time for women's business in the midst of the battle that raged between both halves of you.

When he came back again to fight your father's people, caught in the rage of what had happened to his father and brother, you knew this would not end well for him. So you ran away. You took supplies and a horse and left for one of the houses that the white people had once lived in. You followed him as he left for the white village, convinced he was going to die. And then, when he fell off of his horse some miles outside of there, you knew this was your chance.

******

Pacer is awoken by the sound of dishes rattling and the smell of something cooking. When he sits up in the bed, he's shocked to find that he's still alive. He checks his body and finds that he's been bandaged in several places, the smell of healing herbs strong in the cotton strips. These scents are familiar to him and they remind him of his mother. There is a pang in his heart when he remembers that she's dead and it couldn't have been her who patched him up. He stands cautiously and makes his way to the kitchen area carefully. He's taken aback by the sight of you by the hearth, stirring a pot of something.

Before you notice he's standing there, his eyes run over you, from your long black braids, to your tanned angelic face, and all the way down to the moccasins on your feet. You feel familiar to him, but he can't quite place you. As he stands there trying to come up with something to say, you see him in the doorway and stand up.

"You're awake."

"Yes. Who are you? Where am I?"

"It's not important. How do you feel?"

"Like I've been beaten in a war, but I'm still alive."

"That's not so far from the truth." You go back to stirring the pot and he walks into the kitchen, taking a seat at the table.

"I say it is important. Who are you and where am I?"

"I'll start with your second question first. You are in a safe place. The whites won't come looking for you here because this is Kiowa land now. The Kiowa won't come looking for you here either."

"You're Kiowa."

"Yes and no."

"What does that mean?"

"I am like you. With a foot in each world but never belonging to either."

"You're half."

"My father is a Kiowa warrior. My mother is the white daughter of a prominent man in your town." He looks down at his hands.

"It's not my town."

"No, of course not. Where do you belong, Pacer?" He looks up at you suddenly when you use his name. You turn away from the pot and stand again.

"I don't belong anywhere. How do you know me?"

"I've seen you come into my father's village many times."

"Why have I never noticed you before?"

"Were you looking for a Kiowa girl?" He looks down again, ashamed almost.

"No. I'm sorry."

"No need. I understand what I am." He looks back up at you.

"But you said you're like me. Why don't you look like me?"

"My father's blood won out in the battle for how I look. There is very little of my mother in me."

"There was no battle in me. There's just a balance of each that keeps me different enough to not fit in anywhere." He looks straight ahead, clenching his jaw and his fists.

"You fit in here with me." He relaxes and looks up into your face again. He sees the pain of a person who has lived in loneliness their whole life. He knows that look and that pain.

"And if I decide to leave?"

"I cannot stop you. I don't expect you to stay beyond the time it takes for you to heal." You turn back to the stove and try not to let him see the tears that have gathered in your eyes. You want him to stay, need him to stay even. But you know you can't force him.

"Why do you expect me to leave?" He cocks his head to the side and watches you curiously as you cook.

"I know you will not love me. And that's the only reason you would stay." You look up and will the tears not to fall.

"How do you know?"

"Know what?"

"That I won't love you."

"I know what I am and I know what you wanted. I'm not the pretty little white girls you went to school with." You wipe away a rogue teardrop and try to refocus on your cooking.

"You don't know what I want. Hell, I don't know what I want. And besides, I'm pretty sure you wouldn't want me either, looking like this." You turn to him and he gestures to his eyes. "I have the eyes of a white man."

"Oh, Pacer." You stand and walk to him, kneeling down next to his chair. "You are a Kiowa with eyes like the sky. Why would I not want you?"

You look at each other in silence and there's a moment of understanding between you. Then you go back to the pot of food. He feels like you have cracked him wide open and he's never experienced a person quite like you before.

"And if I stay?" Your heart skips, but you continue to stare at the pot you're stirring.

"Then I would take care of you in the best way I know how. And at least you wouldn't be alone." You turn back to him.

He looks at you again, and really looks this time. He's captivated by the way your raven-black braids sit on your shoulders and your dark eyes seem to sparkle like the night sky. You are stunning, even in your domesticity, and he never knew he could find a Kiowa girl so attractive. You awaken something deep inside him that even he doesn't recognize.

"I'll stay. For now." You smile at him softly and it almost takes his breath away. Even if you can only have him for a little while, you'll take it.

"Good. Now, eat your stew. You need strength to heal." You stand and place a bowl in front of him and he immediately knows it as something his mother used to make. He inhales deeply and closes his eyes. "You don't like it?"

"No, I do. It just reminds me of my mother."

"I was sorry to hear about your mother. She was good friends with my father's sister when they were young. We mourned like family when we heard." Something about that warms his heart and makes him feel a little more at home here with you. He's glad he decided to stay, even just for a little while.

******

After he eats, the exhaustion of his injuries becomes obvious. He looks around the tiny cabin and realizes something.

"There's only one bed. Where have you been sleeping?" You blush a little and he almost smiles.

"Next to you. I wanted to make sure you were still breathing." You also loved the feeling of being so close to him, but you can't tell him that part. "But I can sleep on the floor tonight, now that you are well enough."

"No, I'll sleep on the floor-"

"Pacer, you are not fully healed. You need good rest. You will sleep in the bed."

"Then you'll sleep next to me again. It doesn't change anything that I know about it now. The bed is plenty big enough for both of us." He doesn't waste any time climbing into the bed and laying on one side. He pats the bed beside him as if to tell you to lay down. You look around shyly and then crawl in beside him. The bed is big enough for both of you, but not big enough for you to have much space between you. "I haven't thanked you for taking care of me."

"It's not necessary. I was happy to-"

"Thank you." He doesn't have to lean far to place the soft kiss on your cheek. You feel like the air has been knocked out of you and you wish he would kiss you again. But he doesn't. Instead, he settles in and is asleep quickly. You roll onto your side and look at him as his breathing becomes even. He's so beautiful when he sleeps. Something about watching him calms you and before you know it, you drift off too.

******

In the morning you wake up first. You're surprised to find him wrapped around you with his face in your chest. You're on your sides facing each other, so you pull back and look down at him. You try to decide if you should move away from him before he wakes up, but you wait too long and he stirs. When his eyes open, he looks at you confused. Then, he realizes the position you're in and rolls away from you quickly onto his back. You roll onto your back as well.

"I'm sorry. I-" He starts but you interrupt him.

"It's okay. You were asleep. I know it didn't mean anything." He closes his eyes and thinks to himself that it sure felt like it meant something.

You desperately wish that it meant something.

Still, you get out of bed and begin to make breakfast. He follows close behind you and sits at the table patiently.

"You didn't tell me your name."

"Oh, it's y/n."

"It's not a Kiowa name?"

"My mother named me. My father's people call me Khoam Khote. It means strong wind. They hoped I would be a force for change. Instead, I became a force for destruction."

"I don't think you're a force for destruction. You saved my life. That's not very destructive." He looks at you sheepishly and a warm smile spreads across your face.

"Thank you, Pacer." You walk to him at the table and kiss his cheek. He looks into your eyes.

"I'm going to call you y/n." You lean forward and press your lips to his gently. Then you pull back quickly and stand up.

"I'm sorry. I didn't-"

"It's okay, y/n." He smiles for the first time and you feel like you could melt into the floor.

"I won't do it again." His smile falls a little and he nods. He wouldn't mind if you did it again. He wouldn't mind if you did it over and over. But he understands why you might not want to. No one has ever wanted him before. Why would that change now?

******

Several weeks pass by with the two of you in this kind of polite limbo. After you kiss him, you try to keep your distance, despite sleeping in the same bed. And despite the fact that you always wake up with him wrapped around you.

You do get more comfortable with each other as you live and work. He hunts and fixes up the house and you go into your father's village to gather more supplies periodically. You plant a vegetable garden and hope he'll still be around when it's time to collect your harvest. He doesn't seem to show any signs of leaving, though, even after his wounds heal.

Truth be told, he's in heaven living this domestic dream with you. You're all the company he needs and he lives for the nights when he gets to touch you like he wants to under the guise of being asleep. Sometimes when you fall asleep first, he watches you and kisses your forehead or cheeks. He traces the outline of your lips or the line of your nose with his fingertips. He's not sure why you won't let him love you, but maybe he was right when he said you wouldn't want him.

One morning he wakes up earlier than normal and realizes that you're not in the bed. He panics a little and gets up quickly. You're not anywhere to be found in the little house. He walks outside and calls your name in the wind. The air is warm and he decides to walk to the small creek nearby to cool off. As he approaches, though, he sees someone in the creek. He hides behind a bush and then tries to see who it might be.

It's you.

And you're naked.

What he didn't know is that every other day or so you sneak out from under his arms and walk to the creek early to bathe. Then, you slide back into bed and pretend like you're just waking up. He never notices that your braids are wet.

But today, he notices you. He can't take his eyes off of you as you bathe in the cool water. He's completely captivated by your tawny skin glistening in the sunlight, the curvature of your hips, and the fullness of your breasts. He's never seen anything so beautiful. The physical response is undeniable and he wishes desperately that he could go to you and touch you. He needs to put his mouth on every inch of your skin and feel you pressed against him. He's never been with a woman like that before, but here as he watches you, it's the only thing he wants in the world.

He sighs deeply and turns away from you. The last thing he needs is to be caught watching you bathe. Instead, he makes his way back to the cabin. Once he's inside, he sits on the side of the bed and waits for you to come back. But as he waits, he just can't get rid of his erection. He can't stop thinking about you in the water and his cock is so hard it hurts. He stands and walks to the window. You're not anywhere to be seen, so he assumes he has some time before you'll be back. Something has to happen, so he unbuckles his belt and sits on the edge of the bed. He takes his pants off and wraps his hand around his throbbing dick. As he thinks about your body in the sunlight, he begins to stroke himself. He thinks of your slightly hardened nipples and the patch of hair between your legs hiding the place he wants to see most of all. He imagines what it would be like to touch you, to run his hands over your skin and feel all the soft parts of you. He pumps his cock harder and faster as he thinks about your mouth wrapped around him, your pussy on him as he fills you up. He's never had such dirty thoughts about a woman before but he needs you with a new kind of hunger.

A moan escapes his lips just as the door opens and you walk in quietly, fully intending to crawl into bed with him as he sleeps. But he's not asleep. Your mouth pops open at the sight in front of you: Pacer stroking his cock and moaning your name.

"Pacer?"

"Oh God!" He sees you and tries to hide himself frantically. He blushes a deep red and you can tell he wants to sink into the floor and disappear. "God, y/n, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"Pacer." You walk over and stand directly in front of him. "Look at me."

You swiftly untie your nightgown, slip it down over your shoulders, and let it fall to the ground at your feet. You aren't wearing anything underneath it, so once it's on the floor, you're standing in front of him fully naked. His eyes widen and he looks at you with desperation. He's dying to reach out and touch you.

You walk towards him and pull the blanket that he used to cover himself off and toss it to the side. His mouth is partially open as you step forward and unbutton his shirt, pushing it down his shoulders and off.

"Y/n, I..." You're so close to him now that you can feel his breath on your body.

"Is this what you want, Pacer?" His eyes move from your body up to your face. You pray that you've judged the situation correctly and he won't reject you.

"Yes. God, yes." You take him in as he sits on the edge of the bed naked. His body is just as beautiful as you thought it would be. His tanned skin matches yours and there's the slightest patch of hair on his chest. Your eyes drift even further down and you see his dick, it's long and hard and straight and for some reason it makes your mouth water. You've never been with a man like this, but right now it's the only thing you need. He's the only thing you need.

In a gesture of boldness that shocks even you, you crawl onto his lap and straddle him, your dripping center rubbing against his cock. He whimpers as you take your place on his lap.

"Pacer, touch me." His eyes drift back up to meet yours. And then he carefully reaches out and grabs your hips. He runs his hands up to your breasts and drags his thumbs across your nipples. You throw your head back at the sensation of his hands on you. He kisses one of your breasts and then your neck and you lean into him and kiss him fully on the mouth. He parts your lips with his and slides his tongue in to dance against yours. When he comes up out of the kiss for air, he pulls back and looks you in the eye, his hands resting on your hips again.

"I've never..."

"Me neither."

"I want to... I want to try..."

"Me too." The passion overtakes him and he puts a hand on your neck and pulls you back into kissing him. You slowly roll your hips forward and he groans. You back out of the kiss and whisper.

"I think you need to be on top of me."

"Yeah, that's what Clint told me." He gently and deliberately picks you up and flips you so that you're on your back. He leans in and kisses you deeply again. When he pulls back from the kiss, he looks into your night-sky eyes and is overcome with affection for you. "You're so beautiful."

You feel like you could cry, but you don't. Instead, you reach up and push his hair back out of his face where it's fallen into his eyes.

"Do you mean that, Pacer?"

"I do. You might be the most beautiful woman I've ever seen." He kisses your cheek gently and takes a deep breath.

"Are you ready for me?"

You nod and he lines himself up with your entrance. You tremble a little at the thought of him pushing inside you.

"Will it hurt?"

"Maybe a little, I think? If it does, tell me and I'll stop." You nod again and he slowly starts to press into you. He gets the tip into you and you grimace.

"Should I stop? Does it hurt?"

"Not bad. Please don't stop."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, Pacer, please."

"Okay." He pushes into you some more and it stings for a moment and then the pain gives way to something else. After a few more seconds, he's fully inside you and he grunts and lays his head on your shoulder. "That feels so good. Can I? Are you okay?"

"Yes. I'm ready." He begins to slowly pump in and out of you. You inhale sharply at the sensation and he stops moving.

"Does... does it hurt?"

"No, it feels good!" He smiles down at you and goes back to sliding in and out. You moan quietly and instinctively wrap your legs around his waist. He whimpers again and kisses your shoulder.

"It's so good, y/n. It's so so good." He begins to move a little faster, slamming his hips into yours passionately.

"Yes, Pacer!" Something is building inside of you, but you have no idea what it is. When it explodes, you feel like you might die with the sensation of electricity running through you. You moan loudly and grab him and hold him close to your body. He feels your walls pulse and stops moving for a second.

"What was that?" He asks incredulously.

"I don't know, but it was amazing. Don't stop!" He kisses your cheek and then resumes his rhythm of pounding into you. His cock slides in and out of you a few more times before he grunts.

"I think I'm gonna..." But he doesn't get the rest of his sentence out. Instead he slams into you one last time and shoots you full of something warm. "Oh, god, y/n, yes!"

He pumps weakly a few more times and then pulls out and lays next to you on the bed. You both lie there in silence, sweating and breathing heavily. After what feels like an eternity, he speaks.

"Remember when you said I wouldn't love you?" He turns his head to look at you.

"I do."

"You were wrong." He rolls onto his side and grabs your hand, kissing your fingers.

"Pacer, you're only saying that because-"

"No. I've known it for weeks. We belong together. I love you." You feel like your heart might explode with joy. You smile softly and he melts.

"Will you stay here with me?"

"Y/n, I will stay with you for as long as you'll have me." He presses his lips to your palm.

"Forever, then?"

"Forever." He wraps you in his arms and kisses you deeply. You are what he's been looking for his whole life. He's found a home in you, just as you've found one in him.

From then on you're a tribe of two, until the children come along. All four of them are beautiful, with dark hair and dark skin and their daddy's eyes like the sky. You build a life for yourselves beyond the borders of the war. It will continue to rage for a while longer. Eventually, the white man will win and the Kiowa will be driven from their own lands. But for now, for now you have Pacer, and that's more than you could've ever hoped for.

******

The End

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Taglist:

@ccab @elvisfatass @aliypop @your-nanas-house @rjmartin11 @tacozebra051 @joshuntildawn13 @deniseinmn @pebbles403 @lookingforrainbows @60svintage @louisejoy86 @littlehoneyposts @epthedream69 @from-memphis-with-love

[blu3-j]

Welcome...Home..?

Overworked! GN! Reader X Welcome Home Crew

Chapter 1

TW: none

The beginning of a grand new friendship, and a bunch of new adventures yet to come. It appears as though our main character has yet to see just what they're about to go through. Such a busy bee!

Chapter 1 l Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 l Chapter 4

You slowly trudged up the steps of your porch, completely exhausted. Work has been awfully busy lately, with customers constantly coming in and out and being...."fun", as your boss put it. Not only that, but the workload your college classes have been putting on you lately has been overbearing! You've barely had any time to yourself. You haven't had time to indulge in your favorite hobbies, talk to any of your friends, or even look much at social media. It was a constant race to get things done and keep that money you so desperately needed rolling in.

You slid the key in the keyhole and turned. The door clicked open and a dark, dusty house welcomed you. An exasperated sigh sounded from you. Unfortunately, with your busy schedule, you also haven't had much time to clean your house.

You had been passed down your house from your great grandparents, who had both passed away a few years back. It was completely paid off, and even had some forest property to go along with it! Unfortunately, it was also pretty far in the forest, so you had to get up a bit extra early to make it anywhere on time. It also took up quite a bit of gas to get anywhere from there. You would move in with somebody to make it easier on yourself, but you didn't have many friends that lived in town anymore. None of the ones that did wanted or needed a roommate. Additionally, being a skeptic and cautious person led to not trusting many people on the internet. There was always a chance they would screw you over or possibly even murder you. You never knew.

Thud!

You dropped your heavy bag on the floor and your stomach, quick to catch the cue, growled. There was barely a thing in the fridge for ready-made food, and all of your dishes were dirty and disgusting. Even the thought of taking the time to wash them all made you feel more exhausted than you already were. The pantry didn't have much, either, but there was one thing that you could make in a few minutes without any extra work needed. Instant noodle cups.

"I really do play into the broke, tired college kid stereotype, huh?" You grumbled as you grabbed a cup from the pantry. It only took a few minutes, but you decided upon waiting for it to finish cooking to turn to the living room. The tv was dusty and rarely used, but you figured with the little free time you had you would watch something. "Anything to get my mind off of those Susans and Karens I have to face at work." The remote sat lonely in its spot on the tv stand as you walked over and picked it up. The screen was full of static for a moment, then to a news broadcast station. Humming, you flicked through the various stations, eventually settling on the most colorful one of them all.

A children's cartoon had just ended, and the colorful characters were saying their final goodbyes to the viewers.

"Maybe something simple will let me veg out for a bit. I don't need anything complicated right now." A small ding from the kitchen caught your attention. "Sounds like the noodles are done." One last mumble came from you as you turned your back to the tv and walked away. "My brain is already fried enough as is." When you got back and plopped down on your couch, a new cartoon had popped up. You figured it was a cartoon, anyway, from the extremely colorful title card. "Welcome Home" it read. "Must be a new show."

The colorful title card faded away and the camera panned down to a live set. The colorful scene caught your attention in full, and you felt yourself almost entranced. A house in the middle of a small neighborhood with eyes stared the viewer down with a supposedly friendly gaze. It waved with a window shutter before opening the door to the viewer as the camera wandered in. Inside, sitting at a canvas and easel was a small yellow puppet. He was humming away the show's friendly tune, slowly squeezing paint onto his palette. Finally, he noticed the viewer.

"Oh, hello, neighbor!" He waved to the viewer. His voice was gentle and slightly monotone. Strange, as he seems to be the main character. "Don't they usually have the main character of children's shows as more extraverted and full of energy and emotion?" "I was just about to start painting a lovely new painting for my friend Barnaby." He hummed and grabbed a brush, but hesitated upon moving to dip it in the paints. His gaze went back to the viewer, and he laughed. It was just as monotone as his usual voice, but what was even more off-putting was it being almost robotic in nature. "Oh, no. Thinking about it, I actually don't know what to paint." The handle tip of the brush was put against his cheek as the small puppet thought. "Say, neighbor," He looked back at the viewer. The small puppet's gaze distracted you from your food.

"That's weird...why does it feel...?" "As though he's looking directly at me?"

"Do you have any ideas? I'm sure there's some great ones in that head of yours!" His grin widened. Is that even possible for a puppet? You decided to remain quiet and stare back at him, completely entranced by the dark pools of his eyes. One minute went by. Then two. It wasn't until a third went by when you realized he hadn't gone back to painting. He was still staring, quiet and patient. "Neighbor?" The monotone voice caught you off gaurd, and you jumped in your seat. The puppet laughed and his gaze fell away from you for a moment. Just one. "Oh, no! I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you!" You felt your blood run cold as he spoke once again, his voice even more gentle and ominous than before. Are you just that tired? Are you dreaming? You must be! "I can see you, you know." There it was again. That same, monotone laugh. His voice went back to normal. "That's okay if you don't want to answer me! It must be so strange for you. That I can see you. That I'm talking to you. But you don't have to worry! I won't hurt you!" The yellow puppet's eyes went wide. "Oh! I have an idea, now! You gave me the perfect idea, neighbor! I'll paint you!"

A breath left your lungs as you watched him turn his attention back to his canvas and start painting. One you hadn't realized you'd been holding. He hummed the show's tune once more as he went to painting on his canvas. It would be comforting, if it wasn't for the fact he was indeed painting your unlit living room.

"It's nice to have a new neighbor." He mumbled out just loud enough for you to hear. "Not many come to visit anymore." He glanced back at you for a moment before he went back to painting. "Oh, silly me, I forgot to introduce myself! I was too excited...I'm Wally. Wally Darling." The puppet, as you now knew as Wally, went silent. Not even a theme song played in the background. Just the silence of his livingroom...and his occasional humming.

Time rolled by. After a while, it almost felt like normal. Like you two had known each other for a while and were just on some sort of quiet camera call. Your tense shoulders eventually relaxed, and although you were still too cautious to speak to the puppet, your eyelids slowly, ever so slowly, shut. Overworking yourself had gotten to you, and no longer could your body continue to stay awake. A small, gentle, monotone voice called to you. So small, you barely noticed. So gentle, it sealed the final nail in you falling into the deep depths of dreams.

"Goodnight, neighbor."

[igot-sarang-ggg]

Jolyne's Teacher Pt. 1 (Teacher reader x Jotaro)

Masterlist | Chapter 2- Panic

Small Summary: It's a new school year, you're a third grade teacher at an elementary school in Florida with Jolyne Cujoh being in your class. You thought most of the teacher reports regarding Jolyne were lies or jokes but they turned out to be true. Jolyne likes to do things on her own even showing up to the schools annual Open house by herself. Seeing as she was by herself you take back to her house and meet Mr Cujoh for the first time. You and Mr. Cujoh seem to hit if off after a few months of talking… but you can't help but notice some bizarre things keep happening around the Cujoh's

Small mentions: SPOILERS, Jotaro gets divorced sooner then what is stated in manga

Chapter 1- Open House

A new school year had just begun which means new students and new names to learn. We had a meeting on Friday since school starts again on Monday. "Did you get Malcolm Sanchez this year?" A lot of the teachers were asking who they got this year and how lucky they were that they didn't have so and so students. I normally keep to myself when it comes to that talk, but, "Hey Y/n did you get Jolyne Cujoh this year? I had her for second grade."

"I do, why?" A few teachers that were listening chuckled and laughed, "Jolyne is quite the hand full."

"Be careful with her."

"I heard she starts fights with other kids for no reason."

They started to gossip about her and her family, "The father is a good for nothing husband that's why his wife left him-" I decided to walk out and not listen to them. You never know a family's circumstances so you can't judge them so quickly. If Jolyne is the type to do those things then it might be for a reason.

**A month later**

"And that is how you divide..." I turned around to look at the rest of the class, "Any questions?" A few students raised their hands, and I called out to them and answered their questions. I'm a third-grade teacher for room 203, "I'll be doing separate tutoring at the table in the back tomorrow if any of you are still having trouble with math. The bell is about to ring. Please make sure to pack all of your things away and take your math packet with you today so you can practice at home."

They all got up from their seats and grabbed their belongings from the cubbies, "Ah I almost forgot. Alright, class listen up." I clapped my hands to get their attention, "Remember today is Open house at 6 pm at the school. It's a chance for your parent to meet your new teacher. When you come to the school go through the main office and then come to my classroom. I can't wait to see you all later tonight." The bell finally rang, "Have a great rest of your day class! Those of you who are taking the bus can go and those that are getting picked up, stand in line in front of the door and wait for me."

I noticed one of my students Jolyne Cujoh looked upset as she stood in line she was in the back of the line. "Morgan start opening the door! Jolyne is something wrong?"

"I can't come to the open House today... my dad is busy working." She looked upset about not being able to go. I locked the door to the classroom. "It's okay if you're not able to come... Trust me nothing special ever happens at an open house." I chuckled, "I know but... you're one of the best teachers I've had so far and I want to be there today."

"Okay... well, do you have any other realities that can take you?... What about your mom or grandparents?" I looked at Jolyne who was looking down at the ground as we walked to the car pick area. She went quiet, did I ask the wrong question? "My grandparents live in Japan and New York, plus... my mom and dad aren't together anymore." Shit, what do I say now? "I'm sorry to hear that Jolyne... Well, maybe Annie's parents can take you tonight. You two live near each other so maybe you could go together." Jolyne lit up at the idea I gave her.

"I'll go ask her parents! Thank you Ms. L/N." She waved goodbye and entered the car with Annie I waved back to them and made my way to my car.

I forgot the other teachers had spoken about Jolyne's parents being separated due to the father working so much that he doesn't have time for them. But instead of taking Jolyne with her, she left Jolyne with her father, and he doesn't have time a lot of time to spend with her. I feel bad for her she probably spends most of her time alone at home or at a friend's house. Poor Jolyne.

I went home changed my cloth and got ready for the meeting. As I arrived at the school I saw someone sitting in front of the classroom door, "Jolyne, what are you doing here? Where's your father?" She was sitting alone, "He couldn't come he got stuck at work."

"Did Annie's parents take you here?" Please tell me they did! "No... I came here by myself." I blinked a few times trying to understand the situation at hand, on the inside I was screaming and panicking. A child walked alone to school and probably no one knows where she is... great... and its raining to it off... just what I needed to start the open house, "Okay, Jolyne I want you to stay by my side for the night. If anyone offers to take you home you tell them no, okay?" She nodded, "Good, let's go inside the others should be coming soon."

As the other students and parents entered the room I kept calling Mr. Cujoh's number, but no answer. I'll have to leave a voice mail since it's already six pm and I need to start the meeting, "Hello Mr. Cujoh this is Y/N L/N I'm Jolyne's Third-grade teacher. It appears Jolyne had made her way to the school to open house. She is here with me in the classroom at the moment. When you can please call back at this number." I hung up taking a deep breath, hopefully, he gets back to me soon. "Welcome to today's open house, I'm Ms. L/n, it's nice to meet you all..."

After speaking and presenting myself to the parents, I made sure Jolyne stayed within eyesight she sat at her desk and was drawing while I talked to some parents and answered any of their questions. Some of the parents gave me their contact information and then left. Now it was just me and Jolyne in the class. "Jolyne, this is your father's phone number, correct?" I showed her the phone number, "Yeah, that's his number." I might have to drive her home if no one calls or comes within the next ten minutes. Luckily I live nearby so it's not much of a hassle.

I called his number again, "Hello Mr. Cujoh, It's Y/N L/N Jolyne's teacher again. The open house is over and I can't stay any longer in the school since the main office is closing soon. I'll be taking Jolyne home, hopefully, we can talk by then, See you soon." I was about to hang up when Jolyne took the phone from my hand, "Jolyne!" She started laughing, "I'm okay dad, Ms. L/n is really nice and she'll make sure I get home safely! Bye, dad! He's gonna be so mad when I get home!" I chuckled taking the phone from her and hanging up. "Alright, let's go to your house."

Pulling up to the driveway there was a car that was parked, that must be Mr. Cujoh's car. We both got out and walked to the front door. I held an umbrella covering us both. I felt something touch my hand, it was Jolyne she held onto my hand as footsteps can be heard from inside. The door swung up and a tall man stood in front wearing a white sleeveless turtleneck, his hair looked a bit messy, "What is it?" His voice sound upset and angry, he looked so intimidating that I didn't know what to say to him. Our eyes meet causing me to flinch and look at Jolyne, "Jolyne!" He bent down hugging Jolyne in his arm and then let go. "Where have you been?! Do you have any idea what time it is?!" He took a deep breath, "Go to your room, we'll talk later."

Jolyne waved goodbye as she walked in. Her father watched as she left us alone. "Thank you for bringing her here... Ms..."

"L/n, Y/n L/N. It's a pleasure to meet you Mr. Cujoh I'm Jolyne's teacher. She came to the school's open house today." His eyes widen, "I'm so sorry about that... please come inside it's raining you could get sick." He moved to the side allowing me to enter, "Thank you." I walked into his house, he closed the door. Taking a look around there were quite a few pictures of Mr. Cujoh and marine animals. "I'll have to repay you for today. I'm so sorry for all of this." I could tell he felt embarrassed by this even though the tone of his voice says otherwise. "It's fine... It's actually the first time I've ever had a student do that. It's sweet seeing a student to support their teacher." I smiled to myself as I followed behind him.

"Still, I can't thank you enough. Jolyne... She's very special... to me." As we walked in there were a few pictures of him when he was younger with a group of friends and pictures with Jolyne. "Here," I was busy looking at the pictures in the house that I didn't notice we were in his office room. I looked down at his hands he had two twenty-dollar bills. "This is for gas money and as a thanks." I lightly pushed his hand away, he looked at me confused, "Don't worry about it Mr. Cujoh. I live near the area so it was no trouble at all." He put the money away.

"Well do you drink? I can take you out for drinks this weekend if you'd like." Is he asking me out?... No, he's just being nice. "I'm not much of a drinker... how about some coffee, I know this nice coffee place nearby. We can meet there on Saturday morning."

"Yeah, sure. I'll pay for your coffee then. Maybe you could tell about how Jolyne is doing in class." I smiled at him, "Yeah, defiantly." He cleared his throat, "It's getting late you should be heading home, I bet your partner is worried about you." I showed him my hands, "I'm not married... Divorced."

"Sorry, I didn-" I cut him off, "Don't worry about it. Anyway, let me give you my personal number. The number I was calling you with before is actually my work number." He gave me a pen and paper, and I began writing my number and name down. "Call me on Friday night so we can make plans for the time we'll meet."

"I'll call you Friday then." We walked over to the door, "Were you calling my phone before?" I was about to leave, "I did but you didn't answer." He sighed, "My phone ran out of battery, and star... Never mind. I'll see you on Saturday then." He opened the door for me, "Drive carefully and get home safely."

"Will do. Bye, Mr. Cujoh." We said our goodbye and I headed home. If today's event I just wanted to sleep it off.

Series Masterlist

[matan4il]

THISTHISTHIS!!!

Like, I personally don't consider myself a "Zionist" in the modern sense. I have several disputes with the secular Herzli-esque Zionist movement (both political and theological), but I certainly wouldn't consider myself an anti-Zionist. I have a lot of respect for much of what the Tzionim have accomplished for the sake of Jews, and for Israel, even if we might disagree over correct methods and motivations.

And I definitely associate myself with the traditional Zion-loving Jewish beliefs (what you called the "Zionist nature of Judaism"). Of course I do. These are core tenants of Judaism that have been around since the days of Avraham, and they're so central that I don't really understand how any Jew couldn't believe them. Wherever in the world we might reside, the piece of land now known as Israel has always been Home.

 אם אשכחך ירושלים תשכח ימיני

Hi, lovely to meet you! ^u^

I wanna reinforce your last paragraph SO MUCH. Judaism is so fundamentally tied to the Land of Israel, to Jews loving it, to sanctifying our bond with this place, and I have always felt exactly that: when I'm abroad, I'm never quite at peace, not until I'm back on Israel's soil, and have that sense of I'm home. And it always makes me so happy whenever I hear from non-Israeli Jews, that they feel something similar when they come to visit Israel. It's what I believe all native people feel when they get to experience standing on their ancestral land, whether they live there or not. It's something that allows us to feel connected, not just to the earth beneath our feet, but also to our ancestors who lived here, and to generations upon generations of our people who yearned to return here.

As for the modern political movement that is Zionism, maybe I'll just mention my personal story. I was born in Communist Romania, at a time when the financial situation was incredibly dire, food was rationed, and generally speaking, the regime had control over everything. Its power over the citizens was limitless, and quite a few people who were a part of this regime, were antisemitic. They used that limitless power to persecute Jews, even as Communism supposedly vowed all its citizens would be treated equally. Some of what was done to my family was actually described by my great uncle, Norman Manea, in his memoir, The Hooligan's Return. My life was in danger at one point. At the time, no citizen of a communist country could leave for a western one, which Israel was. Jews could be jailed for simply expressing the desire to leave for Israel (officially recognized here as "prisoners of Zion"). But in Romania, there was a unique agreement achieved thanks to the chief rabbi of Romanian Jews at the time, Rabbi Rosen (who my grandfather and his brother worked with, so he was also the rabbi who married my parents). Israel paid Communist Romania for every Jew allowed to make aliyah. IDK how much Israel had to pay for my parents, for my grandparents, and for baby me, but I know Romania demanded a higher price for people with higher education, which all of the adults in my family had. Most importantly, being brought to Israel, and getting here proper medical and nutritional care after the regime's antisemitic abuse, saved my life. I celebrate my aliyah day every year as my second birthday, because I got a second chance at life on that day.

And at the end of the day, that's what informs my personal view of Zionism, this personal experience. It leads me to feel that if Zionism saved even one Jewish person, it's the right thing to support it. And Zionism actually saved so many more than that, Jews and non-Jews. It still is! We don't talk about it enough, but when Assad regime in Syria butchered its citizens during the Civil War there, Israel got the last of the Syrian Jews out. When the war between Ukraine and Russia broke out, Israel helped to get out Jews from the war zones in Ukraine, as well as Israeli non-Jews (and even a few Arab friends, including from enemy countries, of Israeli Arabs, who the latter asked for Israel to save), as well as the families of Ukrainian Righteous Among the Nations (non-Jews who risked themselves to save Jewish people during the Holocaust). And when the Houthis, the Yemenite terrorist group funded by Iran, endangered Jews in Yemen, Israel got them out.

No political movement is without fault, obviously. But I think all of the above makes Zionism worthy of support. At least mine.

You said, "These are core tenants of Judaism that have been around since the days of Avraham, and they're so central that I don't really understand how any Jew couldn't believe them."

I agree so much! To remove the many Zionist elements of Judaism, right down to its holy language being Hebrew, which is tied to Israel, is to distort it so much, that it's no longer Judaism.

Whenever I come across an anti-Zionist Jew, I try to keep in mind the following things:

They might be pretending to be Jewish. I've seen more than one anti-Zionist online, claiming they can't be antisemitic, because they're Jewish themselves. Beyond the fact that as a statement, that's NOT true (someone can be gay with internalized homophobia, a woman with internalized misogyny, and in the same way, a Jew who has internalized an antisemitic narrative), it turned out in some cases, it was also factually untrue, as the person was eventually exposed as lying about being Jewish.

This phenomenon has also made it into the news at least twice relatively recently, once when high profile anti-Zionist "Jews" from Germany were exposed as non-Jews.

Another is connected to the Twitter account of "Jewish Voice for Peace," an organization that, despite its title, doesn't actually require its members to be Jewish, but uses its title to present itself as a Jewish organization.

A member who operates the Twitter account of JVP accidentally tweeted from his personal account, and so ended up exposing himself as a Muslim tweeting, "As Jews..."

2. Those who actually are anti-Zionist Jews often turn out to be very disconnected from their Jewish identity, except in order to use it to lend their anti-Zionist statements "more weight." (as if a gay man's homophobia should be listened to more, or be more acceptable, just because it's not homophobia coming from a straight person) A really funny example is Ariel Gold, who keeps trying to flaunt her "Judaism" as meaningful to her identity, but in doing so, keeps accidentally exposing how ignorant she is regarding some really basic Jewish concepts. Like that time she was in Iran, and gushed over a picture she took of a menorah... except she didn't know that a menorah wouldn't have 19 branches. She was just gushing over a random, Iranian candelabra.

3. And then to some anti-Zionist Jews, their Jewish identity does matter, but... the sad thing is, they're either very ignorant over what it entails (so they buy into the antisemitic anti-Zionist narrative without knowing better), or they just don't feel they personally need Israel, so they have no issue being anti-Zionists, to be "good Jews." In this context, I always think about this documentary I saw called "Gay Republicans," where they interviewed an openly gay man, living with his boyfriend, who didn't wanna be a dad himself, so he had no issue insisting that gay people shouldn't be allowed to become parents. I guess some fellow straight republicans would say he's a "good gay."

There's probably more to be said about this, but I think this kind of covers a big part of the people I've come across online. But here's the thing: I believe in the value of Jewish solidarity, I know how many Holocaust survivors talked about how that's what saved them back then, and I am gonna stand by that value, and care so much about the safety and well being of groups 2 and 3, even if they don't give a shit about mine.

Take care, and feel free to write me again, if you feel like chatting some more on this. Chag Sameach and Am Yisrael Chai! xoxox

(for all of my updates and ask replies regarding Israel, click here)

[myauditionfordrphil]

My neighbors recently moved out and I feel that my childhood is ending because they were much more than just neighbors, they were our family. Their father came to live with my grandparents for studies like 40 years ago when he was 6 or something (They were literally here since before my aunt was even born) and since then they've grown here, bought the upper floor of our house and made their home here. They have a daughter of my age whose literally my soul sister and one of the closest person in my life, we've literally been best friends since the day I was born. Their son whose 2 years younger than me never made me feel that I don't have a brother because of the constant irritation and trouble he put me through. The youngest a 12 year old boy was the reason for half of the noise of our house. We grew up together, playing together and living in each other's house more than ours. My grandparents regarded them as their own and their parents always bought extra ice cream and sweets for me. We had treats every Sunday, random midnight coffees, played and watched cricket and saw every phase of each other's lives. And now they're all gone. Not that we don't talk, my grandparents raised their father like their own child and we're all very close but there's no more constant chaos, shouts of my name at any hour to tell me something utterly useless through the balcony, no cricket balls hitting the washing machine, no more "wait I'll come upstairs and tell you", no random borrowing of things, extra portions of food being exchanged and no hanging out in each other's home till 1 am and ending up sleeping there only. We used to be 9 kids here, living so close that our roofs were literally connected. One was older than me, one of my age, one 2 years younger and the rest were kids. We gathered at the terrace every evening to play badminton or cricket, there's barely any core childhood memory without atleast one of them. Now the oldest has moved to a different city for college and visits only on holidays, two of the kiddos shifted earlier this year, the three who were the closest to me have shifted and I may move to a different city for education. I know it's not much and I maybe exaggerating but all of it is literally coming to an end. The best friend who used to run into each other's room to cry, laugh or gossip at ungodly hours are now crying over voicemails. I'm missing the boy who I used to fight with at any possible chance. The upper floor is all dark. There are no voices and shouts. My childhood has ended.

[moonstruckloverwritings]

What would dating Sean Diaz (LiS 2) include? :0 if you wanna do that one! I bet he’d use a lot of Spanish nicknames for female s/o LOL

Dating Sean Diaz Would Include..

Authors note: I was definitely planning to do lots of life is strange posts so no worries! And you’re completely right on that one. He definitely would! Anyway, I hope you enjoy it!

Sean’s song to Reader:

Intro:

Ok so I think Sean would be very chill and at the same time very open and gentle in his way of loving someone.

Some things depend on if when you’re dating it’s before the events of Seattle or after. Or if you’re with them and seeing his character development for yourself.

I do think he would be very protective no matter which version of that is.

He’d want to be there in every way. If it’s protecting you from someone or something else or even from your own thoughts. Cause let’s be honest we all have our moments when we aren’t as kind to ourselves as we should be. And he’d be right there! Hence the song

Would most definitely call you “Mi vida” meaning “My life”

Before the incident:

If you’re dating before the events of Seattle then I see so many movie nights with popcorn and snuggly blankets. Daniel would always want to be right in the middle 😁 Sean would try to send him away unless you told him different. Sean’s dad, Esteban, would walk by making teasing comments every so often but all in good fun.

If you guys went to parties he’s definitely the show off type when it comes to you. Introducing you to everyone that talks to him. You’ll probably never really talk to these people again after the party and he knows that, it’s just a way for him to say “I love this person and no one else!” to people so they don’t get any ideas.

100% loves to draw you. You are his muse whether you realize he’s drawing you or not. (You know he’s drawing you but he doesn’t always know that you know. He thinks it’s genuine when you pretend to be surprised as he hands it to you.)

Laying on his bed sharing earbuds and listening to the music in silence is something he loves to do because just being in each other’s presence is special to him. He loves spending any kind of time with you.

After the incident:

Now if you’re dating him during/after the incident/journey to the boarder, he’s a bit different.

His protectiveness is a lot more heightened. Nothing will get past him when it comes to you or Daniel.

And as much as their dad is still their dad, he has taken on some kind of parental figure over Daniel so it would make sense that you both took on those roles.

Talking with each other about what’s the best plan of action when it comes to Daniel is a frequent conversation. Talking with you about wether they should go to their grandparents for medicine for Daniel was a big one.

You both are pretty much in a rush trying to survive and get to Mexico that it put a pause on your relationship. You were still together but there was now things that were more important and you didn’t really think about other things. That was until you both were able to settle down at the farm.

Things at the farm weren’t completely perfect but you both had the chance to feel normal again. Or at least as much as you could.

Coffee in the mornings, swimming at the lake, cuddling at the campfire with the others, playing that pirate ship game that Daniel says he out grew is a normal routine for you guys.

Also I just feel like he loves kissing your forehead/the top of your head. He does it very frequently.

He’s also a big hand holder. If you’re walking and let go of his hand, he is offended! ☝️

“What are you doing? Give me back your hand.” 🤝 “good, now let’s go.”

All in all, he’s very sweet and loves you greatly. He’d do anything for you and Daniel. Whatever it takes.

[danielfuckingricciardo]

A Family Christmas - Max Verstappen x Reader

Pairing - Max Verstappen x Reader

Word Count - 2.8k

Content Warning - None, just fluff

Synopsis - You invite your boyfriend Max to spend Christmas with your family for the first time, and hope that they don’t scare him away.

Author’s Note - First of the Christmas fics, so here’s some wholesome Max fluff for you! I had this one queued and ready to go so I didn’t accidentally forget to post this and then mess up my plans for Christmas fics for a second time!! Enjoy!

Christmas Eve, 3pm - Monaco

“Stop stressing, my love, they’re gonna love you!” You say, placing a reassuring hand on your boyfriend’s shoulder and rubbing it gently.

“You really think so?” Max says, turning to face you, a nervous smile playing on his lips.

“Of course I do. I love you, so they will. I’m more worried about them, they’re not exactly conventional.” You say, chuckling slightly.

You plant a quick kiss to his lips before returning to your suitcase which is laid out on the bed, clearly overfilled and destined never to zip. You sigh before closing the lid and mounting the suitcase to try and force it to close, beginning to battle with the zip.

“I wouldn’t say my family is exactly conventional, (y/n).” Max says, laughing as he watches you straddle the suitcase, an exhausted sigh escaping your lips as you finally give up and roll off the case and onto the bed.

You pat the unoccupied space on the bed beside you, and Max throws himself down onto the sheets, grabbing your hand and giving it a quick squeeze the way he always did.

“I suppose, but my family are a lot. They’re lovely, don’t get me wrong, but they’re highly unpredictable and very different to the type of people you see around here, besides, I’ve never..” You say, trailing off before your final words.

“You’ve never what?” Max asks, rolling over to face you.

You mirror his action, now facing one another, your faces practically touching as most of the bed was still occupied by your half-zipped suitcase.

“I’ve never brought a guy home for Christmas before, never mind a Formula One world champion! Previous relationships either never made it to Christmas or were too new for me to be like ‘oh, come meet my crazy family!’” You say with a sigh, and Max chuckles slightly.

“I feel privileged to be the first.” He says, and you smile.

“You won’t feel privileged when you meet them, you’ll probably be wishing that you went along with my initial plans to sack off Christmas entirely and spend two weeks in Bali.” You chuckle, and Max shakes his head.

“Now you’re the one who needs to stop stressing. If they’re anything like you, then I just know that they’re going to be lovely. Now we need to get that suitcase closed if we have any chance of making the flight.” Max says, pressing a small kiss to your lips before standing from the bed and staring intently at the suitcase.

He unzips the suitcase you had struggled so much to close, and begins digging through it, pulling out two pairs of almost identical black heels.

“Do you really need both pairs?” Max says, and you roll your eyes.

“I like the luxury of having choice. Not that you’d understand that, Mr. ‘I-only-own-one-suit’.” You say, smirking as you try and hold back your laughter.

“Hey! At least I managed to zip my case!” He says, closing your case and pressing down firmly on the lid as the zip slides around with ease.

“My shoes!” You exclaim, sitting up from the bed to see both pairs lying beside the zipped suitcase.

“There’s space in mine, if you’re so determined to bring both pairs I think I can squeeze them in.”

“Oh, I do love you, Max Verstappen.” You say, grabbing the shoes and thrusting them into his arms.

“I love you too. Now you’d better get your things together if we’re going to make the flight.” He says, and you jump off of the bed, press a quick kiss to his cheek, and disappear out of the room to make your final checks before leaving the apartment for the remainder of the festive season.

Christmas Day - 12pm - Your Home Town

Your car pulls into your grandparents’ driveway, and as Max reaches for the door handle, you reach out to top him.

“Okay, so, quick briefing before we go in. Mum has warned everyone to be on their best behaviour today, so they should be pretty normal by their standards. My uncle is very sarcastic, sometimes you can’t actually tell if he’s joking or not, but he is, I promise. My grandad will probably keep trying to feed you like he’s fattening you up for next year’s Christmas dinner, just decline, but he probably will ask you if you’re hungry every fifteen minutes. Also if he says anything offensive, just ignore him. Political correctness isn’t a term in his vocabulary, so don’t engage him in politics at all. If in doubt, talk about your job, they’ll love that. And just…” You say, trailing off when you realise you don’t exactly know what you want to say. You feel tears welling up in your eyes as you try and somehow come up with the words you needed to say.

“Just what? Please don’t cry.” Max says, taking your hand and giving it that familiar reassuring squeeze.

“They don’t have a lot, we never did. Sure, we’ve always been able to get by, but it’s been tough over the years. I’m not embarrassed or ashamed of it, if anything I’m proud of what I’ve achieved, and what I’ve been able to do for them because of it. But you just need to know that they’re not going to be like the people you grew up with, and I want you to be prepared for that.” You say, blinking away your tears.

“(Y/n), my love, if anything, that only makes me want to meet them more. You know my family, what they’re like. I always wanted to be able to have this, a normal family Christmas. Money isn’t what makes a Christmas good, it’s the people you spend it with. And I can’t think of anywhere else I’d rather be today than with you and your family, right here.” Max says, his hand finding the side of your face to wipe away a stray tear with his thumb.

“I love you so much, you know that?” You say, smiling as another tear runs down your cheek.

“I love you too.” Max says, pressing his forehead to yours and joining your lips in a quick kiss, “Now, we’d better go in, we don’t want to be late for dinner, do we?”

“No, I’m starving, and I’ve been craving my grandmother’s roast potatoes since last year.” You say, chuckling slightly as you wipe away the last remnants of a tear from your eye.

You take a deep breath before pushing the door handle, and are immediately greeted by the familiar sounds of voices and laughter, with some Christmas song you couldn’t quite identify playing in the background. The door swings open, and your mother immediately rushes towards you, her arms open to embrace you in a tight hug.

“I’ve missed you so much, sweetie, oh, Merry Christmas!” She says, wrapping her arms around you, careful not to spill the glass of Prosecco she held in one hand as she does so.

“I’ve missed you too, so much. Merry Christmas mum!” You respond, squeezing her tightly.

As you pull away, you realise everyone else has entered the kitchen where you stood, their eyes darting between you and Max, who was standing awkwardly behind you with his arms filled with bags of presents.

“Everyone, this is Max. Now, be nice, after all, he has your presents.” You say, chuckling slightly to ease the tension.

“Set those down on the table, dear, now, would you like a drink?” Your grandmother says, gesturing towards Max with a bottle of Prosecco.

“Oh, that would be great, thanks!” Max responds as he carefully sets down the presents on the table beside the neatly stacked pile already there.

“Can I have one too? I’m far too sober considering it’s already after twelve.” You laugh, setting your backpack down on the floor and kicking off your shoes. Max follows your lead and does the same, sliding his shoes carefully beside yours.

“Of course dear, might have to open another bottle soon. Your mum and auntie have been drinking me dry since breakfast.” Your grandmother laughs, passing you and Max a slender glass each with a smile.

“I’m glad you’re here, walking past that great pile of presents was agony, your dad had to keep stopping me from sneaking one from the top of the pile and sneaking off to the bathroom to unwrap it!” Your mum says, and you wander over to the present table, rubbing your hands together excitedly as you scan the pile.

“They do look tempting, I don’t blame you. We should go sit down and open them all!” You exclaim, and your dad pops his head around the kitchen door with a half-empty pint glass in his hand.

“Did someone say presents?” He says, and you grin, running over to him and wrapping your arms around him.

“Merry Christmas, dad!” You exclaim.

“Merry Christmas, love.” He says, “Now lets get these presents opened. You know, I caught your mother trying to sneak one up to the bathroom when she thought we weren’t looking?”

“Hey, stop trying to expose my present addiction! Max, love, would you help me carry some of these into the lounge?” Your mother says, placing her glass down to fill her arms with presents.

“Of course I will.” Max says, setting his own glass down and grabbing the bags you and he had brought with you.

You follow behind him, your own arms filled with presents, and he turns quickly to see you behind him and gives you a small smile. So far, so good, you think to yourself.

1pm

“Oh, I love it, (y/n), it’s beautiful! Thank you so much!” Your mother says as she passes the necklace you’d bought her to your father, who fastens the clasp around her neck.

“Actually, I can’t take credit for this one. Max picked it out when we were in Abu Dhabi.” You say, turning to your boyfriend who offers your mother a shy smile.

“A good sign for your future engagement ring.” Your uncle pipes up from the corner of the room, and you shoot him a steely glance as your auntie jabs him in the ribs with her elbow, nodding her head at you and Max with a smile.

“Okay, your turn Max dear. This one has your name on it!” Your mum says to break the silence, picking up a flat, rectangular object wrapped in shiny blue paper, adorned with a matching blue bow.

“For me? Really?” Max stutters out, standing to take the present graciously from your mother’s hands.

He unwraps the gift carefully, unfolding the ribbon and peeling away the tape to slowly slide the object out of its wrapping.

He notices the familiar backing of a photo frame and flips it over, and his eyes go wide as he looks at the image, his hand immediately moving to caress the image gently. You look up at him from your seated position on the floor and give him a reassuring pat him on the knee. He looks at you, and you notice his eyes are glassy, with tears forming in his waterlines, threatening to set themselves free.

“It’s not much, I know, but I hope you like it.” Your mum says, and Max looks up at her, smiling brightly at her.

“It’s beautiful, thank you.” He says, struggling to hold back his tears, and she smiles warmly in return.

“Show me!” You say, and Max lifts the photo frame to reveal an image of the two of you following the race in Japan, your arms wrapped around his neck and his around your waist as he kisses you sweetly.

“Oh, mum, that’s so lovely.” You say, standing to wrap your arms around Max’s shoulders and press a quick kiss to his cheek. He sniffs the tears away, and looks at you with a smile, before returning the favour, kissing you on the apple of your cheek.

2pm

“They’re really comfy, actually, how did you know my size?” Max asks your grandmother across the dinner table.

“Google, dear, you can find out anything you want on there.” She replies, and you chuckle.

“It’s a rite of passage to receive at least one terrible pair of slippers for Christmas. And I like that we match now!” You say, shuffling your feet below the table in your new Elmo slippers which matched Max’s own garishly blue Cookie Monster slippers he was wearing beside you.

“I wasn’t exactly sure what to buy you dear, (y/n) has been hiding you away from us since last year and my daughter-in-law wasn’t exactly much help.” Your grandmother says, earning a scowl from your mother and a smile from Max.

“Well I think you all bought me wonderful gifts. Honestly, I wasn’t expecting you to have bought anything for me, it was a pleasant surprise.” Max says as he pops a roast potato in his mouth.

“Why wouldn’t we buy you anything? Dear, you’re part of the family now.” Your grandmother says, and you nudge Max’s shoulder with your own, a big smile on your face.

“It’s like Hotel California, you can check out any time you like, but you can never leave. Trust me.” Your uncle says across the table, and you shake your head while laughing.

“Don’t worry sir, I don’t plan on leaving any time soon.” Max says, looking over at you. His free hand finds your own and he gives it a small squeeze.

6pm

The evening rolls around, and you find yourself cuddled up with Max on the sofa, a box of chocolates resting in your lap, and The Sound of Music playing on the TV.

Max reaches to grab a chocolate, and you turn to him, a scandalised look on your face as you realise it was one of your favourites.

“Stop eating all the best ones!” You exclaim, and Max chuckles.

“Okay, here, you can have it.” Max says, holding the chocolate to your lips. But as you go to bite it, he pulls it away and places it in his own mouth.

“You dick!” You exclaim, slapping him on the arm as he laughs through a mouthful of chocolate. “Right, that’s it, no more chocolates for you!”

“Not fair, they’re my favourites too. But here, you can have the other one.” He says, grabbing the only other identical chocolate in the box and holding it to your lips. You bite it in half, allowing the filling to ooze out of the centre and onto Max’s fingers.

“You can have the other half, because I’m not a chocolate hog like you!” You say, and Max eats the other half, sucking the dripped filling off of his fingers as he does so.

“That was really hot, you know.” You whisper in Max’s ear, and his cheeks flush a shade of red so bright you can see them even in the darkened room.

“Your family are literally in the other room, (y/n)!” Max whisper yells, turning towards the door of the room to make sure no one could hear him.

“Eh, they’re busy playing some card game.” You respond, grabbing another chocolate from the box and holding it between your teeth.

You turn to Max and bring your face closer to his, encouraging him to take a bite from the chocolate in your mouth. He bites it, tossing the confectionary back into his mouth before capturing your lips in a sweet kiss.

As you pull away for air, and to chew the chocolate in your mouth before you choke, you whisper a quiet ‘Merry Christmas Maxy.’ And he wraps his arm tightly around your shoulders.

“Merry Christmas, (y/n), today was wonderful. Your family are wonderfully weird, just like you. I couldn’t think of any other way I would have wanted to spend today.” He says, and you smile a wicked smile.

“Oh, I definitely could think of one way, involving lots of chocolate sauce, but we can always do that on New Year’s Eve.” You say, winking at Max before settling down in his arms to watch the rest of the movie, content in the knowledge that the family Christmas had been a success, and New Year’s Eve was going to be very exciting indeed.

[abandoned-anemoia]

Time of Love

☯ Pairing: Dad!San x Mom!reader ☯ Genre: fluff ☯ Word count: 2.3k ☯ Summary: You and San have an anniversary coming up but will you have time for yourselves when your son wants nothing more than your attention? ☯ Warnings: jokes about making babies, your son gets called a hurricane, San being really soft because that needs a warning in iteself ☯ A/N: Yes, I did add in the Tony Stark scene in Avengers: Endgame... Please Let me know if I need to add any warnings! ☯Disclaimer: None of my work represents any of the idols included in any way. This is merely fictional and all based on my opinion as a joke! I have nothing against any of these idols and love them all dearly.

Pt.2

Please do not copy, translate, or post as your own!

The sun splashes colors of orange and red across the sky and onto your bedroom wall as it begins to sink behind the horizon. Standing at the end of the bed, quietly folding an outfit into a night bag, you hear the door creak open and turn to see San leaning against its frame. He sends you a soft smile, eyes glistening in the remains of sunlight, "Are you excited for our little trip?"

You return the smile, heart swelling at the look of adoration on his face, and nod your head as he walks over to you, wrapping an arm around your waist and planting a kiss on your cheek. Turning your head to face him, he leaves a chaste kiss on your lips before helping you check your list for anything you may have forgotten to put in the overnight bag you are currently packing.

Your seven year wedding anniversary is tomorrow and San is determined to make it special. He told you about your vacation getaway last week but you both had one little problem: your son, Minjae, is a stage five clinger.

In his five years of living, he has never truly been away from you or at least not without the help of his grandparents. He is your world and you adore him, but the chances of this night with San falling through are very likely. There was one person who was free and willing to look after Minjae tonight—Wooyoung.

He agreed to come over and watch your son but Minjae had never been alone with Wooyoung for more than a few hours and that worried you. San seems to notice the worry written on your face, "Minjae is a sweet kid and Wooyoung does very well with kids, I'm sure they will have a great time together."

Just as San finishes his sentence, the doorbell rings and little feet can be heard quickly stomping down the hall. You both let out a short laugh before following those footsteps to the door where a tiny figure is attempting to unlock the front door. San steps next to his son and helps him unlock the door, opening it to a very happy Wooyoung.

"UNCLE WOO!" Minjae's smile reaches his eyes, which turn into crescents just like his father's do. Wooyoung is truly Minjae's favorite uncle and his presence is always welcomed.

"MJ!" As Wooyoung steps through the entrance, Minjae's small frame is launching at him hoping to be caught.

As he successfully catches Minjae's flailing body and holds him close, Wooyoung turns to the both of you with a smirk, "You guys are gonna make another one tonight, right?"

You playfully smack Wooyoung's arm as he lets out something akin to a witches cackle. San follows suit, snickering as your cheeks turn pink. Minjae looks confused but before he can ask, San leads Wooyoung into the living room and distracts Minjae with toys.

Wooyoung is quick to help San make his escape, pretending to attack Minjae with the toy dinosaur in his hand. San quickly disappears from his son's view and guides you back to the bedroom to grab your bag.

Sneaking past the entryway of the living area, you both wave to Wooyoung who is holding Minjae upside down by his ankles as he wiggles and screeches out laughter. He shoots the both of you a smile and goes back to focusing on dangling your son upside down.

San cautiously opens the door and ushers you out before carefully closing it behind the two of you. Rushing to the car, he opens the passenger side door, allowing you to enter the vehicle before closing the door behind you. He makes his way around the car and gets into the driver's side. He sets his hand on your thigh while driving the two of you to the restaurant you had made reservations at, your hand lying on top of his.  

…

Setting your things on the floor, San lies down on the stark white sheets of the queen sized bed, sprawling out in the shape of a starfish. He stares at the ceiling for a moment before raising his head to look at you, standing at the foot of the bed. Your husband sends you a goofy smile before letting his head fall back against the pillows once more. You take off your shoes, crawling over him and laying your body on top of his, your head resting on his chest.

He is quick to wrap his arms around your form, tracing shapes on your back with his finger and pressing his lips to the top of your head, "Do you wanna make another Minjae?"

Caught off guard by the question, you let out a snort, lifting your head to look him in the eyes, "Could we even handle another Minjae?"

San giggles at your question, shaking his head, "No, but I think he's worth it."

Nodding your head in agreement, you lift yourself off of him, getting undressed so you can sleep comfortably. San gazes at you, eyes glazed over with what one can only assume is pure love and admiration. Your eyes catch his, cocking your head to the side, "What?"

"I love you," he pauses, getting up from the bed and making his way over to you, "so much." He softly presses his lips to yours, pulling away slightly, breath fanning across your lips, "And I would love to share that love with another Minjae."

"Oh, so now you want to split your love into thirds?" You tease, wrapping your arms around his middle. San's love for your son is more than anyone could ever explain. You know that San would set the world on fire and watch it burn just for the two of you. And you know that he would use every second of every day loving his family, no matter how many of you there are.

He lets out a puff of air through his nose, shaking his head, "I could split my love into a thousand pieces and I still wouldn't love you any less."

San's words etch themselves into your brain. He means them and there is no denying it. It seems so effortless for him to tell you these things. His words always have the same effect on you—pulling you in like the moon does the tides.

You love him more than Nightingales love to sing. More than flowers love the rain. More than the depths of the deepest ocean. More than rivers run deep and mountains run high. Yet, no matter how much you love him, you can never express your love as well as he does.

Leaning into his body, your chin pressing against his chest, "I love you more than I can ever show you in a lifetime, Choi San."

Looking down at you, hands coming up to rest on the sides of your face, he attaches his lips to yours. It's slow and sweet, pouring all the love you have into one another. Gently pulling away, he guides you to the bed and leaves a kiss on your forehead before changing out of his own clothes.

He sends Wooyoung a quick text to check up on him and Minjae, receives a perfect report, then climbs into the bed and lies next to you. He pulls you close, tucking your head under his chin as he rubs his hand up and down your back in a soothing manner. You let out a content sigh, pressing a light kiss to his bare chest and falling asleep.

…

You wake up the next morning to an empty bed. Assuming San is in the bathroom, you lie under the sheets and bask in the morning sunlight shining through the thin white curtains that are covering the window.

Hearing a knock at the door, you rise from the bed, check your clothes to make sure you're decent, and make your way to the door. Looking through the peephole, you can see the grinning face of your loving husband, body clad in a gray sweatshirt and black sweatpants. You open the door, surprised by the fact that he had left the room, and let him inside.

"Good morning, angel." He beams at you, hands tucked securely behind his back.

"What are you hiding?" You attempt to look around him, curious as to what he had behind his back, but he successfully blocks your view.

He pouts his lips, "Can I have a kiss first?"

A smile forms on your lips before you softly press them against his. One is his hands comes out from behind his back to rest on your hip and tug you closer.

Pulling away from you, he moves his other hand in front of you. He's holding a beautiful arrangement of vibrant purple Calla Lilies, soft pink Roses, and vivid greenery, "Happy anniversary, darling."

Tears spring to your eyes as you take the flowers into your hands and wrap your arms around him. The gesture was simple but he knows it got the message across by the way you crash your lips onto his after pulling away from the hug. San walks you backwards, pulling away once you reach the edge of the bed.

You sit on the bed, San taking the flowers and setting them on the dark brown table pushed against the wall. Looking up at him, "What's the plan for today?"

"Well, I was thinking that you could put these two lips," he presses his finger to your mouth, "to these two lips," he moves his finger from your mouth to touch his own, "because I got you these tulips." He points to the flowers that lay on the desk.

"Sannie, my sweet sweet boy. The light of my life. My sun, moon, and stars. Those are not tulips, my love, they are Lilies and roses." You didn't let the pickup line slide, resulting in a very pouty San.

"I was hoping you would overlook that fact and just kiss me." He huffs, eyebrows furrowed and lips pursed.

Giggling at his antics, you stand up, moving to hold his face between your hands. You squish his cheeks together and peck his lips, "Better?"

"Better." He mimics, voice more assuring than your own.

…

The day was spent walking the streets hand-in-hand, having no particular destination. You both visited multiple shops and tried new foods before ultimately heading home.

San walks up to the door with you following closely behind, softly rapping his knuckles against the wood before entering the house. It was eerily silent, concerningly so. You call out to Wooyoung and Minjae but receive no answer. Starting to worry, you walk farther into the house.

Just when you walk past the entrance to the living room, a figure catches your eye. You and San stand in shock at the sight before you. Wooyoung is sitting on the floor, propped up against the couch, hair disheveled and clothes wrinkled. His hands are colored by what was presumably black ink and he is missing a sock. Surrounding him are scattered Legos and an assortment of toys strewn across the room. Curled up on his lap, lies a peacefully slumbering Minjae.

"Woo… are you okay?" You were a bit taken aback by the man's appearance and even the appearance of your living area.

Wooyoung sighs in relief, "I don't think I've ever been happier to see you two. I've experienced hurricane MJ and the damages are extensive… and costly."

San chuckles at his friend's disheveled state and makes his way over to where he sits. Gently lifting Minjae off of Wooyoung's lap, he presses a tender kiss to his son's head as the boy stirs, opening his eyes slightly before they spring open.

"Hey, Jae. Did you have a good nap, buddy?" Your husband coos at your son, forever willing to baby him.

Minjae nods, turning his head, beaming when he sees you, "Hi, mommy!"

"Hi, Minnie! Did you have a good time with Uncle Woo?" You smile at your son, softly brushing his hair out of his face as he nods again and begins to tell you all of the things he had done.

It didn't take long for him to wear out again. Once he is finished telling you about his day, he is laying his head back down on San's shoulder and wrapping his little arms around his neck. San, holding Minjae tightly in his arms, carries him to his room to put him to bed.

Kneeling on the floor and tucking Minjae under the soft blue sheets, that he had picked out himself, San sweeps Minjae's hair away from his forehead to place a kiss to it, "Love you tons."

Minjae's eyelids are slowly drooping and his voice is small as he responds to his father, "I love you 3000."

San stands from his kneeling position next to the bed, turning the lights off to leave the room, caught off guard by the statement, "3000? That's crazy."

Walking back into the room, San cocks his head to the side, smiling wide, "Not that it's a competition, but he loves me 3000."

"Oh, does he now?" You snort, knowing how happy the statement made San from how his smile reaches his eyes.

"You were somewhere in the low six to nine hundred range." He teases, coming to stand next to you as he wraps an arm around your shoulders.

Wooyoung looks at you, eyes pleading as his voice shakes, completely ignoring your playful squabble with San, "Y-you guys didn't make another, d-did you?"

You didn't think you would ever laugh as hard as you did when those words left Wooyoung's mouth. You are bent over, hands clamped onto your knees, wheezing as San doubles over in laughter at his friends' panicked look and wavering voice.