#and i fucking know every therapy practice under the sun and i think it made me feel a bit better the first time i learnt everything but

[9othkin9]

i wish upon a wretched star that medication or therapy ever would actually fucking work on me

[televised-goose]

Drabbles from a valgrace fic that will hopefully be done before the heat death of the universe.

This fic is in development, so constructive criticism is totally accepted.

Prompt by the great @demigod-shenanigans

○●○●○●○●○

Jason thinks he liked to draw as a kid. He has vague memories of a secret sketch book and drawing random pieces of architecture, but just like everything else, it's blurry. He does like it, though. It's like writing, but it doesn't have to make sense. All of his emotions can leave him and be transferred into the paper. Its his own fucked up therapy. No humans needed.

He only started again when he saw Leo draw. He seemed so focused and enthused when making his schematics. It was like he fused with the paper. So he watched Leo draw a lot. Because it was nice to see him calm and the drawings were amazing. That's it. 

He ended up trying it out, and his brain seemed to remember his style even without that memory of the practice. It was like his hands were moving without him thinking of what each movement really meant. His first drawing was Leo, of course. It was only because he was right there and his best friend. 

After figuring out he could apparently draw pretty well he tried everything under the sun, even stealing one of Annabeth’s sketch books and hiding it under his bunk just like he thinks he did as a kid. The book was filled with whatever he could think of, the bow of the ship, his crewmates, fantastical landscapes and architecture, monsters, his nightmares, and even just skribbles making up how he felt. 

But most of the book was filled with Leo. He was so interesting to look at. His rugged charm and his messy appearance made him so unique to draw. He had such intense emotions, making him the caricature of every single one. Some people might think that means he has a crush, but he doesn't. His friend is simply something he enjoys looking at that's not that weird. It's not like he remembers everything he does.

(He hasn't memorized Leo's determined quirk of his brow as he sketches a curve like a compass, not the little sigh he would release when a blueprint was done, not the cross-hatching perfectly aligned and segmented showing his prowess, not his smirk whe-)

He thinks before he focused more on things instead of people, but everything about Leo needs to be documented to him. It's all so perfect that he can't forget it. 

He doesn't draw in front of anyone because it feels too personal to share. These are his true raw emotions and those stay right next to him and his heart. If people saw him draw they might see him weak and he needs to be a leader for them. This is an escape from the pressure and the pain and the fear. He knows it's dumb, and he knows no one will make fun of him, but it still scares him.

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Was it shit? Tell me! I'm still thinking about plot, I'm think it could be a 5+1 of Jace opening up to people and finding out that drawing isn't that fucking stupid. It's really cool, I may be biased to be fair.

[indecentpause]

Find the Word Tag

tagged by @oh-no-another-idea to find the words celebration, proud, listen, jaw, and height! thank!

from The Black & Blues:

celebration:

You cradle the phone against your cheek like it’s a precious artifact, like if you’re not careful the voicemail will disappear, the job offer along with it. Oh man. Oh man! You got the job! You take a moment to jump around the room in celebration, then you call her back. “Student center, Elizabeth speaking.” “Hi! I mean, hello. This is Meara Ryanne calling back about your voicemail? I’d like to accept the job offer.”

proud:

You can do this. You have to do this. You’ve worked so hard to get here. So you muster up every drop of fury and energy and sound that’s been buried deep in your chest from the moment you heard that first Green Day album when you were eleven, every lonely day at school and every night you cried yourself to sleep and every time your mother hit you and your father called you a faggot, and you force it out, and fuck, you do it. And it sounds awesome, even if two of your fingers are bleeding and you feel like you’re going to collapse by the end. David makes multiple copies of the session for you. One for each you, Danny, and Jaisyn, so you each have a physical backup of the electronic copy. One he keeps in the studio in case your computer crashes or your dorm burns down. The sun is painfully bright when you get back outside, but all your friends are so hyped, and even though you’re exhausted, you’ve never been so proud to be a musician. And you are going to sleep for the rest of the weekend.

listen:

“Do you really think [therapy] would help?” Josephine offers an encouraging smile. “I think the right one would.” “What if it’s not the right one?” Because that’s what scares you. That they’ll think you’re not doing enough. That they want you to quit the band because they think it’s too much stress. Worse, that they’d be homophobic. “Then you talk to your social worker or whoever’s in charge and tell them it’s not a good match and you need someone else,” Kris says. “If the clinic is a safe one to be at, they’ll listen. And I know without insurance it’s a lot harder, but if it ends up not being safe, we’ll help you find somewhere that is.” You rub at your nose with the back of your hand and sniffle a little, but you don’t cry. Finally, you nod, once, firmly and a little aggressively. “Okay,” you say. “Okay, I’ll do it. I’ll try it.”

jaw:

Monika smiles, bright, genuine. “That’s great! And you’ll be okay with the crowds?” Your brow furrows a little, but it’s a genuine question. “No, that’s not the kind of thing that triggers them. It’s… it’s having too much quiet. It’s getting stuck in my own head that causes most of the problems.” “So keeping busy is what helps most?” You nod. “Hm.” She taps her finger against her jaw a moment and says, “I know you work a lot, and that with the night shifts, it’s hard to get out during the day. But what if you had a standing meet up outside band practice? With a friend, with Josselin, with a group. Volunteering somewhere? Maybe having that to look forward to could help. What do you think?”

height:

For the first time in your life, you’re grateful Dicky taught you how to throw a punch. You storm up behind them, trying to ignore the fact that you’re skinny as hell and hope that having the lucky genes that made you taller than average is enough to scare them off. The scariest things about you other than your height are your battle jacket and the black and chrome studded bracelet you wear. You never got into dyeing your hair or piercings like Dicky and the others. First it was because you had to stay under the radar. Now it’s because you’re happy with how you look. “Hey!” you bark. The bullies turn around and the kid looks up. “The fuck is your problem?” you snap. One of the bullies holds his hands up and says, “Whoa, man, nothing’s going on. Chill.” “If nothing’s going on, you won’t mind leaving, will you?” “We–” “Will you?” you press.

tagging @winterandwords @frostedlemonwriter @abalonetea @albatris

@mecharose @bluejay-in-write

to find the words lose, wait, dance, and float!

[comfyswitcherblanketfort]

Grunge-Metal Geralt 3

its finally time 😂 after months of staring at an empty google doc i finally had a useful idea - also y’all, go listen to ‘Brighter Side of Grey’ by Five Finger Death Punch bc that’s the song i based this on and its fire and i love it also all of ffdp is one whole witchery mood

Warnging: vague discussion of a car crash where Geralt was severely injured, big emotionaly vulnerability, swearing?, listen to the song then you’ll get the vibes i promise

__________________

“Give them a break, guys,” Eskel sighed as he wrote down his coffee order, “They had a close call. It’s not like they’re always this…”

“Gross. Skel. The word you’re looking for is gross.” Lambert snatched the paper out of his brother’s hand and stalked out of the room with Aiden in tow. 

Jaskier scrunched his nose and called from where he was tucked under Geralt’s chin, “Did we drive them away? I can get up if it’s too much.” Even as he spoke, neither he nor Geralt so much as twitched to make good on the offer. 

“Doesn’t bother me,” Eskel shrugged. 

Lambert and Aiden, mainly Lambert, were getting fed up with Geralt and Jaskier cuddling and cooing and doing general new couple bullshit. Especially since they’d been together three years now. They were recording a collaboration song, meaning everyone had to be there, but it seemed the two vocalists only really cared about each other. Jaskier sat on Geralt’s lap, played with his hair, stole kisses whenever he could… at one point Lambert caught Geralt tracing Jaskier’s lips and forced a coughing fit to get his attention. He probably thought it was subtle, even if no one else did. So to take a break and get some of what he called ‘patience juice’ (coffee), Lambert ran to their favorite coffee shop while Eskel laid down his bass line. 

It’s not that they were intentionally this annoying, not all the time at least. After the car crash, especially once Geralt started doing well in his physical therapy, the couple just couldn’t keep their hands off each other. Not to say that was the only relationship Geralt was suddenly extra involved in, it was just the most noticeable. 

Finally, after tea and coffee was distributed to everyone it was time for Geralt and Jaskier to, well, do their jobs. Jaskier was fidgeting and humming little scales, doing anything to calm the sudden nerves he felt bubbling up in his stomach. 

“You alright?” Geralt purred, nudging him with his elbow as they stood side by side at their respective microphones. When Jaskier only shrugged he continued, “What's wrong?” 

“I’m just not used to so many people being here while I…” Jaskier motioned to the mic before glancing around him and taking a deep breath, “it’s a vulnerable song…” 

Geralt’s worry lines in his forehead melted as he pulled Jaskier into his arms, “I can kick them out if you want?” he whispered. 

Shaking his head and inhaling Geralt’s scent deeply, something Jaskier had learned not to take for granted, he steeled his nerves, “I’ll be fine. Maybe a little weepy, but fine.”

As they were about to start, listening to the instrumental track and humming their parts of the song, Lambert brought Jaskier a bottle of water and set it on his music stand. He gave him a quick side hug and kissed his hair, offering a small “sorry” for all his teasing. Jaskier just giggled in response, the kind that only bubbles over from too much anticipation. He missed it, but Geralt mouthed a small ‘thank you’ to Lambert as he sat back down on the other side of the glass. 

Jaskier hooked his pinky around Geralt’s as the guitar intro started, needing that little bit of contact for the first line. When they’d written it it felt perfect. The audience knew exactly what kind of song they were about  to hear and Geralt really hadn’t known if he would pull through. It took Jaskier right back to the dimly lit hospital room where he scrawled and scratched out lyrics to keep Geralt distracted from his upcoming surgery. The fear, the desperation, the little pockets of joy when they forgot where they were, the overwhelming love that Jaskier thought he’d never be able to fully give to Geralt all crept back up his throat as he took a breath for that stupid fucking first line. 

His voice cracked partway through as he sang, making him fully grip Geralt’s hand, “I’m writing this in case I’m gone tomorrow,” By some miracle, he found his support for the next line, “I’m writing this in case I’ve moved along,”

For a moment he thought he’d gotten over the worst of it. A couple lines passed in relative ease, emotional but not so much it interfered with his craft. If he focused on looking at his microphone and keeping his breath supported he might make it through. Then Geralt joined him for the chorus. 

“When the lights go down, Know that I am never far away. When the sun burns out, I’ll be waiting on the brighter side of grey.” 

His harmony faltered and he involuntarily heaved a broken gasp in the middle of a line, desperately trying to focus on the mic that was now warped by the tears in his eyes. 

Geralt broke off after the first word of his verse, turning to Jaskier and pulling him in again, “You alright, love?”

“I’m fine. I’m sorry,” Jaskier groaned in embarrassment as he clung to Geralt’s frame, “I’m being a baby. I wasn’t even the one hurt.” 

“No you’re not,” Geralt argued, running his knuckles over Jaskier’s cheeks to wipe away his tears, “Here,” he moved their mics and stands close enough that they were shoulder to shoulder and their fingers could comfortably lace together. 

Jaskier squeezed his hand gently and gave him a brave smile, “From the top?” 

“From the top.”

This time Jaskier tried watching Geralt as they sang. He made it through the first chorus and got to just watch as Geralt sang his verse. The pang of emotion in his chest was still ever present, but it was manageable. Until he noticed Geralt having trouble. 

On “All you get to keep is what you’ve shared,” Geralt squeezed his eyes closed and his grip on Jaskier’s hand tightened. The folk singer prepared, relaxed, readied himself to take a breath in. He was expecting that one to hurt after how much Geralt insisted upon it. How he threatened to get out of that hospital bed and scribble the line himself if Jaskier didn’t put it in. He wasn’t expecting the last line of the stanza to hurt. It had been comforting to the both of them at the time.

Geralt’s lip quivered and his voice was almost pinched as he sang out, “Remember no one ever really dies.”

Even being the one to write the melody, Jaskier missed the first three notes of the chorus, “Fuck. Shit. I’m so sorry.”

“No, that was on me,” Geralt sniffed and chuckled, “I knew you’d lose it if I did.”

“How do you do this?!” Jaskier exclaimed, chugging half the water bottle to keep the breakdown at bay. 

Aiden’s voice came over their headphones, “Half our songs are his trauma and another quarter are group trauma. He’s got practice sweetheart.”

They tried a couple more times, even got through the whole song once with only minimal tears and one tasteful cracked note. But it was still a struggle for Jaskier to keep it together, and the more they sang, the more Geralt lost his iron grip on his composure. 

“Look at me,” Jaskier instructed, moving Geralt to face him and adjusting their mics so they could sing to each other, “Just like when we wrote it. Except a little less pain.” 

The joke earned a snort out of Geralt, exactly what Jaskier was aiming for, “This is supposed to be easier?”

“We can try?”

Jaskier did wonderfully for his verse, singing to Geralt was familiar and safe, even if the subject matter was terrifying. The chorus went well, but as soon as Geralt started to sing, Jaskier couldn’t exhale and it was all he could do not to sniff and ruin the take. 

“If you’re hearing this I know you’re probly scared,” had tears falling down his cheeks again and Geralt’s voice cracked as his eyes welled up, “Nope,” he choked, “that’s worse. Much worse.”

“Fuck,” Jaskier gave a watery giggle as he wrapped his arms around Geralt’s middle, “Why did we decide to do this again?”

Geralt pressed a kiss to Jaskier’s hair, sniffling and holding him tight, “I think we’re sadists.”

“Back to back,” Eskel’s voice crackled in their ears, “Try it back to back.” 

Leaning back to watch Jaskier’s reaction, Geralt hummed, “Do you want to? Or do you need a break?”

“Fuck it,” Jaskier shrugged, spinning Geralt around and following suit as he moved his equipment. 

As they stood waiting for the tech to start the audio, Jaskier felt like he could really inhale for the first time all day. Geralt was there, he could feel his ribs expand against his back and his fingers tapping like a metronome on Jaskier’s palms. This is what they were missing when they wrote the damn song. The comfort of knowing someone is always at your back, that they’ll be there when it’s hard and even when you’re separated. 

A warmth spread through Jaskier as the intro started and he felt ready. He still pressed back into Geralt on the harder lines, reminding himself he was still there, but they both made it through two full takes. 

On the final one, as the recording of the softly picked guitar faded out, Jaskier couldn’t help but repeat two more lines, “When the lights go down, Know that I am never far away.”

His voice hung in the air for a beat, the sense of finality reverberating through the studio and bringing everything else to a stand still. 

Geralt was the first to breathe, “Shit, we made it.”

“We fuckin made it,” Jaskier huffed, emotionally drained but immensely satisfied as he turned to hug Geralt from behind and press his cheek to his spine, “I love you.”

“I love you too. Let’s get a snack?”

“Yeah.”

When the sound tech played the potential mix for the first time, he tacked on an echoing, distant sounding recording of their conversation. Everyone looked at each other and nodded, goosebumps on their arms and that feral sparkle in their eyes that every artist gets when they’ve stumbled on something really exciting. They re-recorded some guitar and drums, but they kept the vocals exactly the same. 

For the album art they wrote “I love you” on the tattered hospital stationary that had the lyrics and chords written on it and took a picture. Jaskier had the original framed and hung in their house as a little reminder. 

[plaidbooks]

Cabin Life - Whittling Roses

A/N: Hello, I have lost complete control of myself and just keep writing this AU. I blame @berniesilvas, but I also love her and this AU so much. For now, this was all the concrete ideas I had--everything else is vague ideas that I don’t have a fic plotted for yet. I hope you all enjoy!

Tags: just fluff, the briefest mention of smut (only one line), and a little bit of a make-out session

Words: 1857

Taglist: @witches-unruly-heart  @beccabarba  @thatesqcrush @itsjustmyfantasyroom @permanentlydizzy @ben-c-group-therapy  @infiniteoddball @glowingmess @whimsicallymad @lv7867 @storiesofsvu @cycat4077 @alwaysachorusgirl  @glimmerglittergirl  @reading--mermaid  @averyhotchner  @mrsrafaelbarba @detective-giggles @crowleysqueenofhell @dreamlover31

As predicted, the snowstorm blocked off contact between you and Sonny for most of the winter months. As soon as the snow started to melt, it would snow again, causing a bigger buildup. He texted you when he could—when the cells had connection—but otherwise, he was confined to his cabin, as you were to yours.

He never once stopped thinking about you, especially when he was huddled in a pile of your blankets, the fireplace happily crackling in front of him. He remembered the night he made love to you right there on the floor, and he wished he could do it again, in his bed this time. Even the thought of your body in his embrace, your warmth and scent surrounding him, was enough to make his body flush with desire.

To help take his mind off you…well, to help control his thoughts—there was no “not thinking” about you—he took a block of wood inside, his whittling blade in hand. When he looked at that block of unimpressive, plain wood, he could clearly see what he wanted to make. But even with his skill, it was a complicated task. At least he had months to work on it.

He spent most of his time whittling. He only took a break to cook, eat, maybe watch tv if he could get a signal in the blizzard. He also brought in a separate piece of wood, to practice different techniques on; he wanted his gift to you to be perfect, to show his love for you.

Sonny let his mind wander as he whittled—as long as he paid attention to the details. His mind irrevocably went back to you every time. He wanted to ask how you felt about kids; though you had mentioned wanting them before, he wanted to see if that was still true.

Eventually, his mind wandered to him marrying you. He wanted to propose, with rings and everything, have both your families there. Maybe he could build an archway to go in that meadow or something, cover it with flowers. He was already building a bridge to go across that creek by his place. An archway shouldn’t be too hard.

Then he smiled as a thought struck him; what if he whittled the wedding rings? He’d have to get better, perfect his craft before he even attempted at something so important. He’d have to talk to you about that, too, make sure you were okay with it. He had enough money to buy a traditional ring, if that’s what you wanted.

 ***********************

About a month into his project, he finished the first of what he hoped would be a dozen roses. He gazed intently at the bud, the petals. Then, his eyes travelled down the stem to the leaf, the veins carved into it. Was it the best rose ever made? Absolutely not. But it was a rose, and it would be perfect for you.

It had taken him much longer than he had anticipated to make one rose. He had stopped frequently to practice petals and veins, though, which had taken up time. Still, he was afraid he wouldn’t finish them quick enough; he had never spent a winter in the cabin, and he didn’t know how long the storms lasted (he had to make a call to the Willis’s for how to cover his gardens). So, while he felt jubilation at finishing one rose, he didn’t celebrate, instead getting right back to it.

The second rose only took him two weeks, and the third, a week. Now that the stems were done, he was getting faster at doing the petals and leaves. He still took his time, made sure he didn’t mess them up, but he was improving. Some of them, he left as bulbs, the petals just opening, while others were in full bloom. He debated painting them, but he wanted to make his own dyes, and he had no idea how to do that. Plus, he kind of liked the light, wooden color.

Once he finished, he fought the urge to continue working on them. He did go back and fix up some details in the first flower that he learned to deal with by the tenth. Now came the question of what to put them in. Does he get a fancy ribbon and tie the stems together for a bouquet? Or should he whittle a vase for them? It’s not like they needed water.

Outside, the blizzard raged on. So, Sonny figured he could make a vase, and if he didn’t like it, he could toss it in the fireplace. Taking yet another block of wood, he got to work. This project, he had a little less of a vision than before. He thought about it as he pulled the roses together, measuring how big of an opening he needed on top.

Slowly, a shape began to form in his mind’s eye, and he started cutting. He wanted a long, skinny neck on top, and a wider base. He wouldn’t have to hollow the inside, only the top part enough to hold the roses. Still, he was doing it by hand, and it took him another month to have just the basic shape done. But he wanted to add details.

Taking his smallest whittling tool, he went to work on the design. Maybe it was corny, but Sonny was a corny guy. He carved apples and his best attempt at lavender flowers, the two things that drew you both together. And in the middle, he carved out a heart, both of your initials inside. He smiled when he was done, knowing that you’d love it regardless; it came from him.

He collected all the wooden roses and rearranged them in the vase until they were how he wanted them. He smiled proudly at the sight, and he wished the snow would stop so he could give them to you now.

 **********************

He only had to wait another two weeks before the snow finally let up enough for him to visit you. The sky was a bright blue, the sun making the fallen snow blinding. Sonny texted you that he was coming over, asking if you wanted to go with him to the local shops to restock on some food. You agreed, and he was instantly on his ATV, the roses zipped up protectively in his jacket.

Sonny parked, then came up to your front door, vase in hand. He knocked and then was suddenly worried that you’d hate the roses, that you’d think him childish. You had given him blankets, something useful, while all he made was wooden flowers—

You opened the door, smiling brightly when you saw Sonny standing there. You had missed him deeply, and you were happy to see his hair and beard longer. Then your eyes flicked down to the wooden vase clutched in his hand.

“What’s this?” you asked, voice hushed in awe at the bouquet.

He swallowed hard. “I, uh, I made ya these fer ya…. I thought, ya know, that I should get ya flowers. But they always wilt and die, so I thought if I made them outta wood, then….”

“You—you made these?” Your eyes tore from the roses to lock to his blues.

He slowly extended his arm, holding the vase out to you, and you took it, marveling at the details in the leaves and petals, then the vase itself. You chuckled as you recognized the apples and lavender, and you had to blink away tears when you saw the heart.

“Sonny, I love them. Thank you so much,” you breathed, smiling up at him.

He grinned nervously, shifting from foot to foot. “Ya do? I was afraid that they weren’t useful—”

“Of course, they’re useful,” you replied, and he tilted his head, brow furrowed. “They show me how much you love me, even when you’re not here to tell me yourself.”

The brightness of his smile could match that of the sun. “Plus, they’ll never die, like my love for you.”

“You sap,” you said, giggling. With your free hand, you grabbed his jacket and pulled him to you for a sweet kiss. His nose and lips were chilled from the wind outside, but you didn’t care. Besides, his lips warmed quickly enough against yours.

“Come on; let’s head to the market so I can get ya home ‘fore the snow starts back up,” Sonny muttered against your lips.

You snuck another kiss. “Why bring me home? Why not just take me to your place? I know we could keep each other warm”

He let out a low growl, kissing you deeper, his tongue in your mouth. Your bodies were magnetic, drawing each other closer. It was a struggle to pull away long enough to place the roses on a table before you were back, body melding to his, hand going to his hair. He pushed you against the doorjamb, hands exploring under the hem of your jacket.

Your father cleared his throat from inside the house, and Sonny sprung off you as if you had shocked him. “S—sorry, sir—” he stammered, face turning a bright red.

Your father crossed his arms, giving him a hard look. “Just close the door; you’re letting the heat out.”

You gave Sonny a sheepish grin as he came inside, closing the door behind him. You told him you needed to pack some things, and you took the vase, heading for your room, leaving Sonny and your father alone.

The latter studied Sonny intently, gazing at him from over his spectacles, and Sonny tried not to fidget under his scrutiny.

“I intend to marry your daughter,” he blurted out. He winced internally; why the fuck did he say that?! But now that it was out there, he was prepared to defend it to the death. He kept his face a mask of stone, not letting your father see his fear.

He continued staring at Sonny, weighing his words. “Does she know that?”

“She does; I told her last time she was over. From the moment I saw her, I knew that I wanted nothin’ more than to marry her.”

He nodded lightly; just a jut of his chin. “Have you proposed? Do you have a ring?”

“It’s only been a few months; I wanted to wait a lil, make sure it’s what she wants, too,” Sonny explained.

“Just don’t wait too long; I don’t want you leading her on or hurting her.”

Sonny’s eyes widened in offense. “I would never—”

You came back right then, a duffle bag in your hand, and glancing nervously between the two men. “Whatcha talkin’ about?” you asked uncertainly.

“Nothing dear. Have fun and stay safe,” your father said, and he came over, kissing your cheek, then headed to a different room.

You cocked an eyebrow at Sonny, but he just shook his head, moving to hold the door open for you. Confused at the tension, you went out into the crisp, winter air, taking a deep breath. You were sure Sonny would tell you the whole story later.

[sorry-i-ship-drarry]

36. Angel

prompt used - Lifting the other one up | fluff | mentions of f*cking | to @drarry-is-my-therapy because she's an angel and it's her birthday. Happy Birthday love.

The drowning sun reflected over the stagnant waters, making it glow in red and yellow, the soft breeze humming in their ears as they Walked barefoot with their shoes in their hands intensely conversing about the movie they had watched a week ago. It was in a faint hesitation harry spoke up to the silver boy glowing in golden.

" think we should try to recreate that scene where he picks the girl up in the air, for fun "

" oh yes, golden boy, as if it's that easy "

" it seemed easy" harry shrugged.

Draco contemplated for a moment, he would be lying to himself if he said that he didn't wanted to try it out but it seemed far too risky

" it wasn't "

And yet somehow harry with his amazing pursuing skills had convinced draco to recreate that specific dance scene from dirty dancing.

" I can't believe you're making me do this " draco shook his head as his rubbed his palms together as if he was getting ready.

" just run alright, I'll catch you. Just trust me " harry motioned his hands in a gesture to indicate draco to run towards him

" that's the problem, I trust you too much " and with that Draco ran forward towards Harry and just when it came for harry to catch him, he stepped aside, making him fall on face over the beach sand.

" what the fuck was that for?" Draco looked up from the ground at harry

" I'm sorry, I just got scared. It suddenly seemed scary, I'm sorry , fuck I should've said something-"

" damn right you should've said something " draco groaned, half wet from falling over the sand and his hair covered in sand itself.

" I'm sorry, I really am " harry nervously said as draco flipped so he was facing harry

" you bloody idiot " draco grimaced

" sorry " harry pressed his lips in a thin line and offered his hand for draco to take, which obviously in his pride he didn't take and swatted Harry's hand away.

"fuck " and just in the moment harry immediately grabbed onto draco's waist and helped him stand

" are you alright ?" Harry asked concerned

" I think- I sprained my ankle you dimwit " draco grimaced in pain

" let's get you to hospital" and with that harry grabbed all his thing's and apparated them to a muggle hospital nearby.

" well, whatever happened, the sprain is a bit more severe, not that it's a fracture but it will take a few days to recover. So try not to walk too much and apply these ointments " the doctor with spectacles said

Draco shot harry a threatening glare before thanking the doctor and leaving with harry.

" I said I'm sorry " harry rolled his eyes at Draco, taking away the bag of ointments from him and his jacket too, leaving draco to carry nothing

" that doesn't change this sprain harry " draco rolled his eyes. Just as they stepped outside the doors of the clinic, draco winced.

" maybe we shouldn't apparate. I wouldn't want you to have any splinching " harry suggested

" I can't walk " draco responded.

" well, there's not much option-"

" carry me " draco smuggly said as if he was waiting to say this for a long time

" what?" Harry questioned, somewhat shocked at such a proposal

" yes carry me. It will compensate for you causing this injury and we'll go home too. It's not that far anyway " draco frowned trying to explain harry how it wasn't such a bad idea.

" I- well it only makes sense though " harry pouted looking at the road ahead, thinking about how far he'd had to go.

" you've not more options. Give me a piggy back ride. I'm sure the flirtatious doctor would appreciate it "

" one,he wasn't flirting with me and second you're very demanding "

" you wanna fight me ?" Draco raised his eyebrows in a threatening way

Harry chuckled " Darling, I think you'd definitely lose. Now hop on" he kneeled onto the ground for draco to cling his arms and legs around him.

" don't drop me " draco said as he finally put his arms around Harry's neck. In a Swift move, harry put his arms under draco's thighs and got up.

" wow, you weigh too much. Draco I think you're getting fat " harry teased as he hopped draco a little to get a good grip then finally started walking

" I have not " draco hit Harry's head Playfully, adjusting his face in Harry's neck, breathing into it

" are you sure, because I think otherwise"

" please I work out. Have you seen yourself ?"

" you mean being fit and having a good physique, thank you very much "

As much as draco wanted to deny that, he didn't because God knows why he had Always adored Harry's body. Well adore is a bit too smooth of a word for saying he had always found himself staring at harry if he ever got a chance. It was so finely carved with all the curves and abs at the right places, the toned muscles, the slightly broad shoulders with perfectly not too much toned arms and a perfect arse. Draco every once in a while allowed himself to gawk like an owl at harry, but never would he ever admit that harry was considerably hot, especially whenever harry wore draco's sweater.

" whatever " draco rolled his eyes hoping he had not blushed.

They talked on their way over, giggling about things, making jokes about each other, discussing celebrity crushes. Harry felt odd with draco breathing on his neck. He had never felt this way before, the way draco's giggles in his ears sounded so soft and his breathing down his neck causing shivers and the smile he'd feel over his neck caused a fluttering effect in his stomach, like butterflies and the way draco just seemed to talk today was so different that harry wondered how had he never admired his voice before, of his hands, or his fingers or his laughter, everything about him but whatever it was, harry enjoyed feeling it. It was new and Harry was a sucker for new things.

Just as they reached draco's flat, harry first helped him get waters, then taking him to his bedroom while harry fetched the ointments he left at the kitchen table top. When harry returned to his room, he only found draco standing with his sprained leg spread out, without a shirt. He did work out, and it seemed pretty hot..

" what ?" Draco asked when he saw harry simply staring at him

"you're fat " Harry lied blushing, keeping the ointments on the bed

" well, thank you harry for thinking I'm hot " Draco smirked, putting on a new shirt. Harry allowed himself to stare at his soft chest, the left part of his chest covered with a phoenix tattoo, the v line disappearing under his pants and his abs glowing softly in the dim room light and the way draco was putting on a shirt, Harry only wondered why ?

But before could notice harry practically lusting over him, he had moved his eyes to the opposite side of the room, much to draco's disappointment.

" well, I'd come back later?" Harry asked

Draco thought for a moment before nodding " you're going to be at that get together at Ron's place, right " harry nodded " right, so pick me up. I don't think I'd be able to drive or apparate till then "

Harry nodded again before telling him when would be come to pick him up and finally going home with such eruptions of feelings he had once felt for Ginny, but something completely different. Harry didn't think much about it.

Over the next few days as harry spent picking up draco and helping him with regular things, he found it hard to resist himself from feeling things for him. Even if so he wanted to ignore them, he'd just find draco fondly looking at him and harry would blush like a flower and simply turn away, inappropriate thoughts rushing into his mind. The truth as harry spent thinking about in night was that, harry might've always liked draco in some way but right now, the way he felt just made him want to do things he could only possibly think of. But having learnt about heartbreak ages ago, he found himself Afraid of such feelings. He promised himself that he wouldn't fall for anyone who was just, ordinary but then again, draco wasn't ordinary.

The night finally came for the get together at Ron's place before he left for a 6 month mission to southern Europe and would not return until it's done. Despite the fact that it was a normal get together, everyone invited for forced not to dress too casual nor too formal, something harry never quite understood. Voila, comes the fashion king into his mind, draco. He had irrevocably amazing fashion sense and nobody could deny that so he picked up a few shirts, pants and jeans and drove to draco's place an hour early.

" you're early " Draco frowned as he opened the door wider for harry to come in

" fashion advice " and without a doubt draco understood what he meant..

They moved into the living room, draco settling down on the couch with harry standing in front of him with a bunch of clothes.

" what the hell not too casual and not too formal Is supposed to mean ?" Harry rolled his eyes as he dropped everything onto the chair.

" well technically it means the event is special but with close people. I have dibs on how maybe he's going to propose Hermione "

" you know what, I thought soo too " harry gossiped

" anyways, I think you should go with a nice pants and a button down shirt " draco suggested

" that's what I'm standing in " harry said with a as a matter of factedly face

" well- that's right. Show me what you got " draco ordered and one by one harry started showing him everything he could bring only for all of it to be rejected by him.

" well, we've run out of clothes " harry said as he looked down at the pile of shirts and pants on the other chair.

" that is true- you know what. I have a shirt for you, I bought it sometime ago but it's a bit lose and you can just pair it up with any of the black pants "

" what are you waiting for then. Show me " harry excitedly said

" well a fractured man can only walk so fast "

" you don't have a fracture "

" but I can take the advantage of saying that " Draco's voice echoed as he walked down the hallway into his bedroom, fetched the shirt and came back.

" I've got to admit you're quite dramatic. I'm pretty sure the sprain is fine by now. It doesn't even have a swelling " harry said as he took the shirt from draco's hands

" what do you know " draco narrowed his eyes at harry before settling down in the couch before harry.

Harry placed the blood red shirt over his chest, frowning at how good it looked

" didn't know you liked red now ?"

" rare occasions. Wear it. I've got to get ready too "

And with that Draco departed into his room to get ready. Harry had just began to put on his shirt when draco walked into the living room asking for something.

" oh " Draco's Throat echoed as he saw harry shirtless

" what ?"

" I didn't know you were- well undressed " draco blushed

" not like you haven't seen me this way before" Harry shrugged putting on the shirt.

Why, god, why, draco's inner voice screamed in lust.

" anyway- which one is better ?" Draco asked still blushing

" both are good draco. You've got a nice dressing sense "

" don't flatter me. I can't wear both, choose one " draco asked again. Harry scanned both the shirts.

" the light blue satin shirt. Makes your skin- eyes look good " harry Blushed.

Draco wondered what the fuck was harry blushing for when he was the one complimented with one of the finest compliments.

" I did not know that " draco said lowly

" well now you do " harry smiled. Draco nodded before walking away, the glimpse of harry rolling his sleeves invading his senses.

After about half an hour, they both were fully dressed and ready to go.

" you look good " harry complimented

" so do you " draco smiled in returned

" shall we ?" Harry as he pointed the door.

When Draco finally nodded, they both departed to Ron's place, realising the get together was at the roof top.

Half-way through the party, harry sensed Draco was probably right and was still finding it hard to not see Draco from all the way across the room. There was no men finer in the entire room other than him and harry hated it as much as he loved it. It was excruciating to find someone so attractive who was your best friend who you had no chance with but the desire to want him was longingly growing inside his chest.. he was so desirable across the entire room, bunched about with a few people, laughing and smiling over something harry couldn't possibly decipher. His thoughts ran in his head like an endless loop until the boy in Harry's desirable dreams saw him and paused his ongoing conversation and made his way towards harry. Caught in the act he tried to busy himself with the bottom of his shirt until the other man cleared his throat.

" oh, didn't see you there draco "

" right, so you were looking at ..."

" pansy. She looks good in that dress "

" Pansy isn't even here harry " draco chuckled, blocking Harry's line of sight.

" oh"

Draco genuinely smiled at harry knowing exactly that he wasn't the only boy caught in the loop of desiring the other.

" so you want to pretend that you weren't looking at me for half the party, not to mention with an admirable gaze " draco smirked crossing his arms in front of him

" that would be nice " harry frowned lightly

" well then I have to pretend that I wasn't checking you out back at the flat almost as admirably as you were " Draco smugly said as he shifted besides harry, standing against the railing..

" as long as we're pretending then I think I'll pretend I didn't check you out a couple of days ago when you were changing " harry replies smiling, almost liking this pretend game.

" okay then, I'll pretend that I haven't checked you out everytime you're shirtless, or everytime you wear one of my sweater or when you ruffle your hair " draco smirked. Harry raised an eyebrow at Draco, slightly amused

" then I'll pretend that I didn't enjoy carrying you on mu back a few days ago because I got to be close with you " harry smirked

" then I'll pretend that I don't like being this close to you " draco said as he stepped forward..

" then I'll pretend that I don't have these fluttering feelings for you which seems to invade all my senses "

" I'll pretend that I haven't liked you for almost forever "

" then I'll pretend that I don't want to take you home right now "

" I'll pretend I didn't agree "

______________________________

" I knew you bought that shirt for me " harry lazily smiled as he softly grazed draco's naked arms spread over his chest covered on blankets

" don't flatter yourself potter " draco rolled his eyes as he snuggled further into harry

" fine I won't but doesn't stop me from teasing you about how you let me fuck almost 5 times last night alone " harry grinned cheekily as if it was proud achievement

" If you do it again, you are going to regret it " Draco softly threatened

" well you did let me, not once, not twice, not thrice, not fou- what's the word- four times , five times-"

" you're an asshole " draco rolled his eyes

" well I'd like to be your asshole, if you want me to be ?" Harry asked, worried if he had ruined the conversation by bringing this up.

" if you don't shut up and let me sleep, I won't let you be my asshole but if you do, I'd let you be so much more " draco yawned, tired from all the activities from last night.

Harry chuckled at the lightness of the tone before kissing the top of draco's forehead.

" sweet dreams angel "

And draco hummed, falling fast asleep again in Harry's arm..

Unedited

Day 35 - every inch of you | Day 37- you're my home, draco

[cafedanslanuit]

♡   f l u f f v e m b e r   2 0 2 0   ♡ 

♡  week three  —  kuroo tetsurou   |   first date

♡  summary  —   it was just a boba date, what could go wrong? apparently, everything or highschool student kuroo tetsurou finds a way to epically mess up his first date with you

♡  masterlist  ♡

It was Kuroo’s first date.

No, scratch that. He had had dates before. But it was the first time he had ever asked someone out. Kuroo had managed not to stumble over his own words as he invited the libero from the girls’ volleyball team to a boba date. Kuroo waited for you after class and walked you to the gym, as your team was using the space that day. He noticed the blush on your cheeks as you agreed, trying to play it cool. He couldn’t blame you as he was trying to do just the same (he did wish he was doing a better job, though). You gave him your number and waved him off as you joined practice.

“What do you think about them?” he asked Kenma, as he walked him home after school. He hadn’t stopped talking about you in the past few weeks, bothering his friend about this joke you had made or the way he caught you staring in awe at a stray cat on the street. ‘Ask them out’, had been Kenma’s only advice (and a not-so-direct manner to shut him up). He then had watched Kuroo rehearse the question about whatever a boba date was in front of his mirror for a long time while he played with his Switch.

Kenma let out a long sigh, his eyes darting to the sky.

“They’re okay.”

“Just okay?”

“They offered me their notes one day I missed class,” Kenma remembered. Kuroo smiled and kept walking, hands in his pockets.

Tomorrow was going to be easy. He would meet you near the park and you would walk to this boba store he had found out was very popular on Instagram. You would walk around town, it would get cold and he would offer his jacket. Yes, Kuroo Tetsurou had it all planned and he was confident it was going to be a date to remember.

He really wished he had chosen his words more carefully.

Kuroo was already at the park when he realized he had forgotten his leather jacket. He cursed under his breath as he sat on one of the park’s benches. It’s going to be fine, he told himself. So what if you can’t lend her your jacket? That doesn’t mean anything. You both can still have a good time. He sighed and passed a hand across his face.

Keep it together.

He looked up at the sky and saw the grey clouds from that morning still lurking around. It had been raining for a couple of hours, but it had thankfully stopped before ruining his date. The air was cold, but it was nothing he couldn’t handle. He just had to focus on being himself, relaxing and having a good time.

“Hey!”

Kuroo turned around and saw you walking to him. It felt unreal to see you without your uniform, but he had to admit he liked it. It was like getting to know another part of yourself, a bit of what you liked and the knowledge you had dressed up knowing you were going to meet him. Still, you looked comfortable and he greeted you with a smile. He didn’t fail to notice the sweater you were carrying on one arm. Of course.

“Hey,” he replied, standing up and going to meet you. “Should we go?”

The walk to the boba store was filled with small talk and your laugh as he cracked a joke or two. He remembered why he asked you out in the first place, how your sole presence could brighten up even the grey clouds above both of you and make him forget all about the forgotten jacket. He watched you stare at the menu board and hum to yourself as you picked your order and told the girl behind the bar something he didn’t pay attention to.

“And you?”

Your voice brought him back from his daydreaming, and he finally looked at the board above both of you. His eyebrows furrowed as he noticed the different combination and options shown there. Four steps? Thirty five flavours? Wait-- did he read correctly? Thirty-five? Kuroo was convinced it would be like going to Starbucks and just now he was realizing his mistake. Who invites someone over for boba tea when they don’t know anything about those stores themselves?

“Do you like mango?” you asked, once again bringing him back to reality. “The matcha mango one is really good and kind of sweet. I think you’ll like it,” you said, offering him a smile.

“Sure, that sounds good,” he said, his eyes darting to the other options on the board. “And also a couple of chocolate chip cookies,” he told the cashier, who added it to the list.

“Oh, I love those,” you muttered to yourself, and he grinned at your excited expression. Kuroo took his wallet out to pay for your drinks.

A chill ran down his spine as he found his card slot empty. Scared, he looked in every compartment of his wallet, and then inside his jeans pockets. Nothing. A vague memory of him needing some cash and taking out the card from his wallet to go to the ATM the day before crossed his mind. Of course. He hadn’t put the card back to his pocket when he returned home.

He couldn’t face you now. Who the hell takes someone to a boba store, not only not knowing anything about boba, but also forgets his money? He counted the cash he had and realized it wasn’t enough to cover for everything. Fuck. Fuck.

“I’m so sorry, I left my card at my house,” he said, his eyes fixed on his almost empty wallet.

“Oh, it’s okay,” you say, taking out your wallet and handing your card to the girl in front of you.

“I’ll pay you back, I’m actually so sorry”, he apologized, masking his deep embarrassment with a smile. You smiled sweetly at him while shaking your head and he managed to feel even worse than before.

As you waited for your orders, you looked at how nervous Kuroo looked. He didn’t look like the confident guy who you had been talking to the past few weeks, who always had a funny remark or proud smirk when he won a debate. You nudged your shoulder at him, forcing him to look at you again.

“Hey, did you manage to talk to the science teacher about that problem he got wrong?” you asked, trying to take his mind out of it. His eyes lit up, and he started rambling about the chemistry problem he noticed the teacher had been wrong about.

You kept listening to Kuroo as he picked up your order and looked for an empty table to sit with you. He found one at the back of the store and led you there. Kuroo sat in front of you and you watched him take special care in popping the lid of his drink with the straw, as if he was scared of somehow messing it up. You hid your smile and poked the lid of your own drink, taking a sip and humming at the known flavour.

“Had you come here before?” he asked.

“No, I usually go to one that is next to my house, but this is really good. The thirty-five flavours plus the toppins really gives you a lot to choose from,” you smiled, taking another sip and munching on one of the pearls. “How is practice going?”

“It’s good. We’ve actually invited some schools over next week for practice matches, so it should be fun. How is your knee going?”

You blinked at him in surprise.

“Hey, you remembered,” you said, a smile drawing on your lips.

“Of course I did,” Kuroo said, rolling his eyes playfully. “I’m a nice person.”

“No doubt there,” you chuckled. “I’m actually feeling a lot better. I still have another appointment with the physical therapist tomorrow and--”

You proceeded to explain about how your therapy was doing and Kuroo listened to you, all his senses focused on no one but the person in front of him. He wondered if you knew about the little mannerisms you had when you talked and daydreamed about telling you all about them, only this time you would be resting in his arms. He thought about taking the hand that was resting on the table but forced the thought out of his head. No, maybe in a while. It was too soon.

Kuroo has been on dates before, sure. But it was the first time he was the one who asked someone out. His previous dates had been fun, but they had also felt like he was talking to any other friend, hence why there never was a second date. So, this newfound nervousness was tearing him apart, forcing his confident self into unknown territory. He took a sip of his drink and noticed a combination of citrus and sweetness. Somehow, knowing you had picked it made it even better. You laughed at your own joke and he smiled back, entranced by your spontaneity, being thankful you had agreed to go out with him. Maybe--

Kuroo coughed.

You kept talking, unbothered.

He coughed again.

It took a couple of seconds for you to realize he was choking.

“Oh no, water? Do I bring you water?” you asked in fear. He saw you standing up, attempting to go ask for some water, but he tapped the table, making you look back at him. Kuroo shook his head and patted his chest with force twice. He coughed inside his hand a couple more times and finally he felt the damn pearl travelling down his esophagus and the air entering his lungs once again.

You took his drink and moved the straw up, making sure he only drank liquid and handed it to him, trying to soothe him. He didn’t look at you as he drank a few more sips, mentally kicking himself for being so entranced in watching you he forgot about the damn pearls in his drink. You waited for him to take a deep breath and continued your conversation.

(You didn’t mis the way Kuroo was way more wary whenever he brought the straw to his lips).

Almost an hour later, you decided to walk around town, finding a small volleyball court behind an Elementary School. You convinced him into joining some kids playing volleyball there, who were in need of someone to set for them. He watched in awe how you laughed, even if both you and him were not used to setting for someone. By the end, the sun was setting and you said goodbye to them, getting lost in the streets of Tokyo as the night started.

The signs from the stores shined brightly against your skin, making you look even prettier than before, Kuroo noticed. He knew it was almost time to let you go, but he had to admit he didn’t want to. Still, he was thankful he had gotten over the initial awkwardness. Spending the afternoon had only taught him more things about you to like, and he wished there was a way both of you didn’t have to go back home that night.

As you were both waiting to cross the street, he thought about holding your hand again. It was a small gesture, but he thought it was enough to let you know how he felt about you, in case you had wondered about the nature of the date. There wasn’t an inch of him that wasn’t intoxicated in your existance, the sound of your laugh, the way you talked with the kids as you played volleyball with them or the way you handed him his drink after he choked. Kuroo was falling, and he was falling hard. Honestly, if he didn’t end up kissing you by the end of the night, it would only be because he wanted to take his time and do things right by you.

The traffic light changed from green to yellow and Kuroo noticed a car speeding up. He put his arm in front of you and pushed you slightly backwards, shielding you, as the car passed in front of both of you.

Immediately followed by a big splash of water staining his white shirt.

Of course. It had been raining earlier after all.

The light turned red and the rest of the people started crossing the street, a couple of people looking back at the highschool student with the wet shirt.

Okay, it was a sign. Maybe it just wasn’t a good day to go out.

Kuroo let you move him aside and grab the hem on his shirt, squeezing it and trying to get rid of all the excess water. He watched you as you did, knowing there was no point. Even if it magically dried, the water was dirty and had already left an ugly grey stain.

It was time to call off the date.

“I’m so sorry,” you whispered, squeezing his shirt as much as you could. Kuroo shook his head and gently guided your hands down. That wasn’t the way he expected to touch your hands for the first time.

“No need to be sorry, it wasn’t your fault,” he assured you, forcing a smile. “I’ll just throw this to the washing machine and it’ll be as good as new. But, um-- probably should head back now. Can’t get sick when we have those practice matches next week,” he explained, with a small shrug.

You nodded, slightly biting your lip. Before he could talk again, you took the sweater you had been holding under your arm and offered it to him.

“It’s over-sized, so it will fit you just fine,” you say, holding the sweater in front of him. You noticed the doubt in his eyes. “C’mon, I don’t want you to get sick either. And it isn’t really cold anymore, so I’ll be fine.”

Kuroo took your sweater and put it on. You had been right, it was big so it fit him nicely. Not to mention your scent was now even closer to him, a lovely mix of flowers and a bit of sweetness filling his senses. He looked at you, who were smiling softly at him and wished this date had turned out different.

“I’ll give it back to you Monday,” he promised, but you waved your hand.

“Don’t worry about it, take your time. Kind of looks nice on you,” you joked, pinching the hem of your sweater.

Why were you so sweet? You were trying for him not to feel as bad as he felt in that moment. It was probably one of the most laughable dates you had been in, he thought.

Forcing another smile, he offered to walk you to the station, to which you said it was fine. He should hurry and get home, so he didn’t catch a cold due to his wet shirt. Right. It was understandable you would want to finish the date soon.

Kuroo said his goodbyes and turned on his heel, the fake smile dropping from his face as soon as he did. He hadn’t taken more than two steps when he felt someone gripping on the sleeve of the sweater, forcing him to stop.

“Kuroo!” you called. He turned around again and faced you, his right eyebrow raising questioningly. “We should keep going back until we try all the thirty five flavours,” you said, a small smile playing on your lips.

He couldn’t stop himself from laughing, but this time, it was different. Despite everything that had happened, your eyes were still looking kindly at him, your lips slightly parted after basically asking him out on a second date.

And there wasn’t anything in the world Kuroo wanted more than that.

Before he could stop himself, he leaned down and pressed his lips against your forehead. He heard a small gasp eliciting from you, but then felt your hands closing on the sweater he was wearing. When he looked down at you again, he noticed how red your face was, all the remains of the confidence you had just shown him gone.

Kuroo smiled again. He could get used to seeing you like that.

“We should,” he agreed with a small nod.

In the middle of a busy street in Tokyo, no one paid attention to the tall highschool boy threading his fingers on your hair, but you could have sworn the whole world stopped every time Kuroo Tetsurou set his golden eyes on yours.

[finn-ray-nal-beads]

I JUST GOT HOME FROM WORK AND SAW YOUR POST SO I HOPE I SENT THIS IN IN TIME, BUT DADDY!CLYDE TRAINING HIS BABYGIRL TO LACTATE WITHOUT BEING PREGNANT (BECAUSE THAT IS 100% A CLYDE KINK) AND BEING SO PROUD OF HER WHEN SHE FINALLY STARTS PRODUCING AND HE CANT STOP SUCKING ON HER TITS. OKAY LOVE YOU BYEEE!!❤️❤️

@clydesfavoritegirl SO, I HAVE BEEN WRACKING MY BRAIN ABOUT THIS AND I HAVE A WIERD THOT ABOUT IT. 

So, little fun facts about Sara, I have had a baby (she’s five now), I breastfed for about a year (very hard to keep up), and I have also donated my eggs for other people to have babies in the future. All of this mentioned above is not easy to accomplish and requires patience and willpower to do. 

Any way you have a child is valid no matter which avenue you are given in life. If you want kids by all means have them, if you don’t that’s totally and completely fine. If you want to use formula to feed them, do it queen all the power to you, the same goes for breastfeeding. Adoption is just as important as shooting baby out yourself and surrogates are true angels in my eyes. I had not considered this lactation thing until I did research on it, because I really wanted to know if it was possible to accomplish, and it is. 

Upon my research I saw that it takes months and months of hormone therapy to produce milk without being pregnant and even then, doctors prescribe it for couples adopting and or trying surrogacy for new babies coming into the family. SO, that being said, I can twist this into maybe Clyde and yourself looking at adopting or using a surrogate for a child, and you want to try to breastfeed them because you want to bond with your new baby. And of course Clyde is ALL about it because anything that makes you happy and comfortable!

PLEASE INDULGE MY THOTS ON OUR SOUTHERN BELL CLYDE AND HIS INEVITABLE LACTATION KINK.... 

**I’m gonna put warnings on here because it mentions some heavy stuff (plz don’t read if you are triggered by any of this): Infertility, hormone therapy, angst, depression, adoption, and surrogacy**

“Baby girl?” Clyde calls from the living room, his nose deep in the baby books you both had purchased over the months of trying to start your big happy family, fumbling though his phone at the same time.

“What’s goin’ on big bear?” you chime, busy fixing yourself up in the mirror after a relaxing shower to wash the sex from your skin after a session with big daddy. 

Adjusting you hair, wincing as you lifted your arms, “Jesus,” groaning out, feeling the soreness from your heaving breasts as they felt like concrete on your chest. 

_______________

Ever since you'd begun the injections and pills, your body was hating life. The raging hormone cocktails running through your bloodstream causing every single emotion to emit from your body at once. 

You’d be happy and cheery one second, followed by crying in your shared bed under the sheets in the fetal position, and finally raging about the fact that the TV was turned too damn loud in the other room, when it all actuality it was the same level you’d always kept it at. 

No matter the tears and agony, Clyde and yourself took all of this one day at a time, just as you had when you found out that children may not be a possibility when it came to the old fashion way of doin’ it. The pain was so hard to bear that day. You cried and cried, locking yourself away from the world as you cursed whomever was in charge of your fate, feeling like less of a woman the more the days droned on. 

It took a few months for you to smile again, Clyde painstakingly trying to solve your problems with everything under the sun, reading books, catering to your needs, holding you when you sobbed yourself to sleep over your vacancy. 

Cradling you when you felt like less of a person for not being able to accomplish one simple thing you’d both hoped for in the future. He’d hush your tears away, forcing you into him as he felt you shudder during the night, silent tears falling from his face as he prayed for some kind of sign or solution to all of this. 

Then it all fell into place one day. Clyde was working his ass off during the nights, leaving you to stew about things at home, which inevitably led you to the internet. 

You looked up all kinds of solutions, message boards talking about infertility, therapies, injections, adoption, and surrogacy. All of them possible in your eyes if it played out like it had for the folks at the various agencies you’d looked up. Finally, a glimmer of hope in this shit-storm of uncertainty, as you glanced over the testimonials and pictures of various families, so happy with their children healthy and happy. 

“This is it,” you had muttered under your breath, a flutter from deep in your stomach causing tears to well up in your eyes as you thought about Clyde and you taking home a sweet new addition. 

You’d brought it up to him immediately upon entering the house at and ungodly hour, to which you were scolded by your big bear after you’d made your sales pitch to him. 

“I think it sounds perfect baby girl,” he cooed as you both laid in bed that night, caressing your sweat sheened skin after a good punishing from his cock, “if ya want ta do it, m’ happy with anything ya want,” whispering as he felt you sink into him to relax for the first time in months. 

“I jus’ wanna make ya happy to big bear,” kissing his thick chest as you inhaled his musk, “I think this is the way we can have that family we want,” ghosting your lips up his sternum as he sighed into your touch. 

“Mhmm,” he embraced you further, “I’ll adopt as many babies as ya want honey. Yer jus’ gonna be the best momma regardless,” hearing your light cries in the quiet of the darkened bedroom. 

“T-thank you big bear,” you strained out, still hiding in his neck as the tears spilled, “I can’t wait ta make ya a real daddy finally,” gripping the back of his neck as you fell into another chorus of cries. 

_____________

“What’s up?” your v-neck t-shirt straining on your heaving tits, the bra you’d picked certainly not fitting you as the days went on and on. 

“I think I found the pump ya were wantin’,” he gulped, seeing the peaches poking through your top half as you bent forward to look at the contraption he’d found. 

“Oh ya!” you jumped slightly, your tits bouncing in a ripple at your excitement, causing Clyde to salivate at the sight. 

“Thank ya big bear!” jumping into his lap as you pulled him to you, kissing his cheeks as he buried his face in your pillows, running his thick hands over your sweatpants. 

“A-anythin’ fer ma baby girl,” he panted, burying his prominent nose deeper into your rock hard tits, “Gah damn yer so juicy darlin’,” lifting his head to place pecks all over the tops of them. 

“Ya like ma milky titties baby?” biting your lip as he started sucking a mark over the soft skin, “ya wanna taste a mama’s milk?” cooing in his ear as he moaned into his make out session with your chest, rubbing his head to press it further in the valley of them. 

“Ya think they’re finally full baby girl?” he glanced up, his eyes glimmering with love and lust in the same gaze. You pet his precious face, the hopeful look only making this more special as he’d been helping you with your injections since you’d gotten the go ahead from the doctor and the agency. 

“I think so daddy,” feeling them tense up at your words, the soreness pulsing all the way to both nipples as you tried to avoid making faces in front of him. He helped you remove your fresh top, exposing your lacy bra, the skin popping out with colored veins, gravid from the fullness of them. 

“Fuck me,” he drooled, reaching behind to undo the clasp, eyes widening even further when he saw them perked up out of their hiding spot. The nipples taut and ready for his lips to suck on at his leisure. 

“Ya look so damn perty baby girl,” raising his hand to grip the skin, feeling how heavy they were on your chest, “ya want daddy ta see if they’re ready ta go?” practically begging as he ran a thumb over the sensitive nipple. 

You reared your head back at the slight touches he made, “please daddy,” whining as he watched you fall apart from his motions, “suck on my tits big bear,” shoving your chest closer to his waiting mouth as he inhaled deep, a growl brewing as he went to latch his pink lips on your areola. 

“Mother fuck!” you cried out, the pleasure releasing from your throat as he sealed himself on your tit, massaging the sore skin as he coaxed the sweet liquid to fall from it. 

He vacuum sealed his lips, sucking lightly at first, feeling you writhe and find the back of his to grip his mane, pushing him further into your warm skin. 

“O-oh g-god baby,” you moaned out, feeling a burning feeling build in your boob that felt both uncomfortable and welcoming as he sped up his jaw on your nipple. 

“Mhmmmm,” he whined out, feeling the body temperature liquid seep from your tit, coating the insides of his mouth in a warm embrace as he sucked more and more. 

Just then, you felt your other tit release a trickle of fluid, the stream of white beautiful in contrast to your skin as you glanced down in awe and pleasure. The cement block feeling escaping as Clyde sucked down your sweet nectar. 

“Oh f-fuck d-daddy,” you gasped, a mixture of elation leaving your body, “I-I’m l-leakin’,” you winced out, feeling Clyde let up on your boob, picking his head up to reveal a white sheen covering his lips and part of his mustache. 

“That ya are darlin’,” he eyes completely dilated as he looked over at your stream sliding down the underside of your neglected tit, making its way down your stomach in a perfect line, “yer doin’ such a good job baby girl.” 

Gripping the other tit in his large hand, coaxing the nipple into his mouth sucking your sweetness down in a frenzy. Your hand massaging the back of his head as you arched your back into his motions, feeling a huge relief as he emptied your other aching tit. 

He lifted his head in a gasp, wiping his mouth from the mess he’d made, watching as your sultry eyes bored into him. The both of you panting and elated at the hard work it had taken to accomplish this huge step. 

“Ya perfect, baby girl,” inching his lips to yours as you tasted your milk in his mouth, sighing into his tongue wrapping around yours. 

He pulled away for a moment, the noticeable bulge in his jeans ever present as he fulfilled his fantasies he’d had since he’d met you, “I don’t think m’ gonna be able ta keep up with these tits though as much as I’d like ta suck on ‘em fer every damn meal,” giggling as he lowered his mouth to your neck, sucking more marks on the skin as you mewled under him. 

“Don’t worry big bear,” you purred, gripping his hair again, arching yourself into his lips, “ya can help me when I get that pump we saw,” feeling him smirk under your neck at the prospect of him watching that show. 

“But fer now,” you lifted him by the ears to gaze into his precious eyes, “I think mama needs ta take care a daddy,” gesturing to his now tented erection. 

“Please mama,” he begged, watching you get up from your spot to curl and index finger as you backed into your bedroom again for round two. 

___________

God I hope I did this ask alright for you honey! Thank you for sending it in so I could learn something from it, as well as indulge in this juicy Clyde thot!

oneshot taglist: @maybe-your-left, @safarigirlsp, @clydesfavoritegirl, @emeraldsiren20, @thepalaceofmelanie, @bpdbensoloblog, @hopeamarsu, @caillea

🖤,

ray-nal-beads 

[enkelimagnus]

Delacroix

Bucky Barnes Gen, 2565 words, rated T

Jewish Bucky Barnes, The Falcon and the Winter Soldier: Episode 5 Truth

Bucky spends a few days in Delacroix with Sam and his family. On one evening, as they both have a beer before dinner, watching the sun set, they have a conversation about life, about therapy, about work.

TW: US healthcare system and the military industrial complex, mental health

Read on AO3

Part 33 of Making a Home - the Jewish Bucky series

--------------

Sam’s family house is more of a home than anything Bucky’s lived in since he was deployed.

It’s warm and luminous, with big windows and light paint on the wood and the walls. There’s a poarch where they all end up sitting at the end of the day, when the sun sets over the bayou. The walls outside are blue and the roof is red. There are crayon drawings stuck with magnets to the fridge and mismatched furniture and containers. It’s been lived in, loved in.

A few days after his surprise arrival, Bucky stops feeling like a blood stain on the tapestry of life of the Wilson home.

Sarah’s nice and warm. He immediately takes a liking to her, and her to him, and he can see how much that infuriates Sam. What can he say? She’s a gorgeous woman, funny and bright and caring and her smile is honestly the kind that probably stopped a few hearts in her lifetime. Yes, she’s his sister, but he still has eyes, and he’ll be damned if he doesn’t at least show appreciation. Besides, she seems to enjoy it. He’d stop the second he’d sense uncomfort.

He hasn't gotten to flirt and be comfortable with flirting in a really long time. It seems to be the same for her. What if they’re just… enjoying the flirtation? And enjoying infuriating Sam? Bucky considers it his duty as Sam’s friend.

Delacroix is unlike anywhere he’s ever been. It’s half an island and half a town. It’s relaxing. And the food… Bucky doesn’t think he’s eaten as much seafood in his life as he had in the past week.

It’s a slow end of day in Louisiana when Bucky and Sam find themselves sitting on the plastic chairs out back, with beers, watching the surface of the water. There’s music playing in the house, the kids are doing their homework.

It’s simple. Bucky breathes in and out, unobstructed.

He hears Sam’s intake of breath and knows a hard conversation is coming from that alone. No, that’s a lie. Sam’s shifted, ten seconds ago. He’s looked between his beer and the water four times in the past minute.

“We haven’t had time to talk about Madripoor,” Sam starts and Bucky immediately tenses.

He’d almost forgotten he’d told Sam they’d talk about that later. Because still, he’s not ready to talk about it. He’s not ready to talk about that part of his past. It’s still an infected wound in him. It’s still hurting. He can’t do it. He’s about to say that when Sam holds up his hand.

“We don’t have to talk about it,” he says, surprisingly. “I don’t need to know shit if you’re not ready to tell.”

Bucky goes back to breathing. It’s a reprieve. Even if one day, Sam might expect him to be ready… it’s extra time. He’s so thankful for it.

“I’ll tell you though,” Sam keeps going. “You need a new therapist. Because if I know one thing, after everything, and what I saw in that precinct? it’s that Raynor’s not working for you. You need better. You deserve better.”

Bucky looks up at him then. Sam is looking at the water, but there is that look on his face. The look of determination, of drive, the look that Bucky knows… there’s no use in trying to go against what he is saying now.

No one has ever told him he deserved better.

He’s told himself that a few times, in the few moments where the clouds parted and he didn’t feel like the worst person in the world.

But he doesn’t think anyone has ever told him that. Even Steve. There was a couple ‘you deserved better’, but they were all in the past tense, all regarding Hydra, not Bucky’s current situation. Because his current situation is good. It’s great, compared to the past seventy years. Maybe even compared to what was there before. Because he doesn’t break his back in the factory during the day and in the docks at night anymore.

He’s so silent and shocked Sam just keeps going.

“And don’t give me bullshit about not needing help or whatever. I know your generation didn’t do therapy but that ain’t gonna fly with me. You deserve a therapist suited to your needs, and I know that’s gonna be hard to find, with your trunkload of decades of trauma, but we’ll find them.”

He says it with such determination, like it’s his new personal mission. He has much better to do than try to help Bucky more than he already has, and yet… Sam looks at him finally, for a long moment.

“Raynor’s not a bad doctor,” he says. “She’s just not the right fit. And that’s not uncommon. We just need to find you someone that’s better. And someone that’s not me. Because I can’t be your friend and your therapist, man. And out of the two, I’d much rather be your friend.”

Bucky’s still staring. He doesn’t know how to handle this. Nowhere in his databank of social interactions is there something that prepares him for this. He’s had long talks with people before, hell, even with fucking Zemo, but this is entirely different and he has no idea how to handle it.

“I’m sure you’re a great therapist,” Bucky says quietly after a moment, before he takes a big swig of a beer.

Sam chuckles, shaking his head. “You do realize I ain’t a therapist right? I’m a counselor.”

“You’ll have to give me the difference on that because we were still using alienist the last time I heard about psychoanalysis,” Bucky points out.

“There isn’t much of one. I guess I’m more about… finding practical solutions for people to deal with their trauma than really knowing the root cause of it. Probably because, since I worked with the VA, I knew what the root was.”

Bucky hums, nodding. That makes sense to him. More than the ‘how does that make you feel’s. “Either way, I’m still sure you’re a great counselor.”

“It ain’t difficult, with your experience,” Sam shrugs, watching him. “You don’t know better, old man.”

Bucky snorts at that, watching the water again. Sometimes, his eyes catch motion, but he’s never sure if it’s wildlife under the surface or just a trick of the light.

AJ and Cass seem to be debating with their mother whether they can finish their homework later, after dinner. Bucky barely knows them, but he already knows it won’t actually get done if they follow their plan. Kids are kids. Bucky’s sisters could never finish their homework after the radio show either. Too distracted, too tired.

He turns his attention back on Sam after a moment.

“Walker is in a bad shape,” Bucky says quietly. “Now, and before Hoskins died too. The second we saw him in Germany, I felt it. That guy didn’t get help.”

Sam sighs heavily. “Yeah. Not enough of them do, when they come back. You wouldn’t, if you weren’t forced to.”

Bucky can’t deny it. “Yeah, but I’m 107.”

If Sam noticed the year added to his age, he doesn’t mention it. At least for now.

“Some of it hasn’t changed that much,” Sam explains. “The army… You know that culture of toughness, right? Gotta be strong, gotta be a man. Can’t cry, can’t show you’re struggling. I’m sure they had that shit too, in your day, probably even worse.”

He’s not wrong. There were a lot of issues in his day but that was part of things. Emotional outbursts that weren’t from anger were frowned upon. Once they got to the war, it was even worse at first, until it started really getting hard. And then there were two options. Either you fucking cry with your buddies, or you end badly. Bucky had Steve, and the Howlies.

“Men like Walker… Because they’re these tough white guys, they’re encouraged to be like that. Aggressive, emotionally-closed off, fight-hungry. They’re the ones that shove you and call you a pussy for not laughing at their frankly horrible offensive jokes. It’s like they think the trauma we all face just won’t touch them. Or that they can’t show anyone it touched them. So they keep it all in. And the only way they get to be… emotional is in combat.”

Bucky nods quietly. They’re worse off than he thought.

It wasn’t good in his day either, but it just feels worse now. It churned and churned and got bigger with every spin, and now it’s all a giant fucked up stick of trauma cotton candy, all twisted in itself and sticking to itself.

“When I work for the SRT… Sometimes I see these kids,” Bucky mumbles. “They’re what? 22? And I ask them why they’re here, you know, try to pass time. And they tell me they enlisted for college. Or healthcare. And it’s…” He closes his eyes. “It’s been eighty fucking years…”

He takes a swig of the beer again, shaking his head. “When the crash hit, in the 30s, things were bad. No one could afford shit, there was polio, there was syphilis… It was really bad. And they made plans. They tried to get healthcare on the way, and they half succeeded. And more than like… two thirds of the population was for it too. And we had basically none of the resources we have now.”

He looks up at Sam for a moment. “It hurts to see… that it’s still… We’re still here. At least on that issue. On other stuff… Rights and all, that’s getting better.” He finishes. “But healthcare… and college…” He shakes his head. “It’s criminal. That’s what it is. It feels criminal.”

Sam bumps his shoulder with his fist, chuckling. “Don’t say shit like that next to journalists, they’ll say the Soviets put communism in your brain along with the murdering.”

Bucky chuckles at that. “Nah. That was all America. Living in it. Dying for it.”

Behind them, AJ and Cass have lost their battle of wits with their mother.

“You happy with what you’re doing?” Sam asks after a moment.

Bucky takes a deep breath. The answer is easy. “No,” he mutters. “But I don’t have a say in the matter. Until they decide I’ve done enough to undo the damage I perpetrated as the Soldier… I’m gonna be clearing Hydra safehouses. And after the shit I pulled with Zemo, I’m gonna be at it for a while longer, I think. But… I was expecting that.”

He can feel Sam’s eyes on him. “You knew what would happen.”

“Yep. On all accounts. With the Dora Milaje, with you, with Walker, with the U.S. government, and the GRC, and everything… Still did it.”

Sam huffs loudly. “Stubborn ass.” He shakes his head. He’s smiling, beautifully, brightly.

Bucky smiles at that. “You know it. Wouldn’t be alive without it.”

The sun is starting to set over the bayou. Every evening, Bucky finds himself thinking he’s never seen anything quite like it before.

“Whatever happens,” Sam points out after a moment, looking down at his empty beer bottle. “You got a couch here. Somewhere to crash. Somewhere to rest. I don’t know what your situation is, up north.”

Bucky sighs a little. “I got a house,” he answers, looking back at him. “A townhouse, in Brooklyn.”

Sam’s eyebrows rise up to meet the descending sun. “Well excuse us, mister.” He teases.

Bucky shakes his head. “It’s not like that,” he starts. Sam looks even less like he takes him seriously. “It’s a former Hydra safehouse,” he adds, and now his friend’s eyes get a little sadder, a little darker. “The army got tired of me taking space in their housing, so the second we raided a place within proper commute distance, they handed it over to me.”

Said like that, it sounds even worse than it actually was.

“It wasn’t like.. Full of Nazi or Hydra shit, or anything. It was just a house. They got rid of the bodies.”

The emotional journey on Sam’s face as he talks is worth a good dozen of sunrises.

“And you live there?” Sam asks. He’s struggling not to let his bewilderment and horror show, but he’s failing.

It makes sense. It sounds like an absolutely terrible situation to be in. It is an absolutely terrible situation to be in. As much as owning a townhouse in Brooklyn can be terrible.

It’s been about four months now since he signed those papers and moved his bag of things into that pretty house with the marks in the doorways and the basement he still hasn’t stepped foot in. And now that he’s been away long enough…

He guesses he kinda misses it.

He doesn’t miss the house in itself, much. He does miss… everything else though. Charlie, Miriam, the neighbor whose name he still doesn’t know, the familiar commute, the Chinese place he gets a lot of very late night food at, the proximity to his childhood streets, the way life feels there. He misses his night jogs in the relative quiet. He misses the weather, and the oven he baked kugel in for the first time.

Brooklyn has become familiar again, in all of its differences with his memories.

And he didn’t even realize it was happening.

“You should come, one of these days,” Bucky shrugs. “I have a couple guest bedrooms.”

Sam punches him lightly in the shoulder. “Fancy ass ‘couple of guest bedrooms’.” He teases and Bucky smiles. “So I’m guessing I should try and find some good therapists for you in New York then,” he adds.

Bucky shrugs lightly. “I feel like… I have some stuff tethering me there.”

Sam’s expression shifts for an instant. “Like the SRT?”

Bucky shakes his head. “Nah. Like my childhood congregation, that somehow still exists, and has a shul not too far from where I live.” He points out.

“Shul?” Sam asks.

Bucky smiles lightly when he looks up at him. A few days ago, Sam spoke of his teetee and Bucky probably made the same face Sam’s making now.

“Synagogue,” Bucky explains. “Jewish temples. Shul’s yiddish.”

Sam makes a small ‘ah’ sound and nods. For a moment, they’re silent again. The noises of the world around them aren’t threatening to overwhelm them though, they’re… comforting. A warm tapestry in the background.  

“You’re Jewish, I take it?”

“No, I’m Mormon,” Bucky replies with the straightest face he can muster before chuckling.

Sam punches him again, a little harder this time. “Come on, dude.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m Jewish.”

That’s the first time he says that out loud in… He’s never said it like that ever. This is the first time in his life that he says it that way. The first time he’s not afraid of the outcome of such an admission.

It’s a heady, wonderful feeling. He never thought he’d ever be comfortable enough to do that. Somehow, he might have Zemo to thank for that. Zemo and his fucking questioning. Not that he’s going to be asking much more questions from the Raft.

He’s Jewish. That’s a truth that doesn’t deserve to be hidden right now. Not when he can carry it. Not when he is strong enough to bear it proudly. He feels like his heart is going to burst with something he cannot name.

“Did Steve know?”

Bucky bursts out laughing.

[moldisgoodforyou]

give a little: chapter three (college!jj maybank x oc)

MASTERLIST

pairing: jj maybank x oc

synopsis: charlotte “charlie” walker is a rising senior at the university of south carolina, an exercise science major, a kappa, and is back in the outer banks for the summer. she’s stubborn as hell, isn’t rich enough to be a kook or poor enough to be a pogue, and is used to being in the background. she and jj both go to USC, her sorority and his frat (beta) running in the same social circles but the two rarely speak at school. things change when they run into each other at the boneyard in the summer.

warnings: drinking, creepy guy hinting at non-consent, swearing, mentions of sex, all characters are 21+

wordcount: 3.5k

_______________________________________________________________________

“Um, JJ’s number, Pope passed it on,” Charlie shrugged. “I’m probably not gonna do anything with it but I thought I’d keep it just in case.” 

Grace reached over and plucked it out of her hands, promptly ripping it into pieces despite Charlie’s feeble protest. “We went over this, I told you that boy’s no good for you. Will you let me do your makeup and pick out an outfit?”

“Why’d you have to - ugh, yeah, sure. Whatever makes you happy,” she teased. 

Grace clapped together her hands in excitement. “We’re gonna get you laaaiddd!” She sang, making Charlie blush again and whine in response. 

“I hate you.” 

Grace laughed. “No you don’t. You love me.” 

It was an evening ritual of Charlie’s to head to the ocean after work and unwind. She had her board on top of her car at all times and her wetsuit in the back, just in case. As soon as the clock hit 4pm and she traded spots with the high schoolers that manned the evening shifts, she drove straight to the beach. It was one of those days where the humidity felt so thick you were swimming through it and she forgoed her wetsuit for her bikini she wore under her work uniform. As she shimmied her jean shorts down her legs, JJ came around the corner with his board tucked under his arm. 

Charlie groaned quietly and stepped back behind her car, but not before JJ noticed her. 

“Walker, hey!” He waved, jogging over to her. 

She raised her eyebrows, caught off guard. “Walker?” She questioned with a small smile. 

JJ grinned, pleased with her reaction. “Yeah, since you refuse to use my name, I figured I ought to do the same.” 

She laughed. “Shame. I like the sound of my name on your lips.”

He beamed at the approval. “Here, let me help you with your board.” He set his own down and stepped up close to her, reaching over her to pull her surfboard down from the top of the car. 

Charlie swore her heart stopped beating for a second, her cheeks going red. She put her free hand on his bare chest to steady herself. 

“Charlie?” 

“Yeah?” She looked up, making eye contact. 

“Is this just a game to you?” He questioned. 

“Is what just a game?”

“Come on, you can’t tell me you don’t know exactly what you’re doing.” 

“Believe it or not, I don’t exist just to mess with you, Maybank.” She took her board from him and walked toward the water.  

JJ just watched her for a second, then jogged to catch up. “Do you surf often? I don’t remember seeing you on the water much in high school. And most Kappas I know are too prissy for that anyways,” he remarked as the two walked out to the water. 

She didn’t miss his gaze trailing down her body, but chose to ignore it as well. “We’re not prissy. But no, I picked it up last summer when I had an internship down in Florida. I’m okay,” she understated. After dealing with a shitty boss, she turned to surfing as her therapy and ended up finding time almost every single day to surf that summer. She was no amateur. 

They kept casual conversation as they both paddled out past the waves. “Oh, I’m sure you’re not that bad. Let’s see,” JJ gestured to an upcoming wave, letting her take the first ride. 

“What a gentleman,” Charlie grinned, paddling out toward the wave. She caught it with ease, standing over the swell and riding it into shore. 

Back in the ocean, JJ’s jaw dropped as he watched her take control of the wave. “Holy shit,” he murmured to himself before coming to his senses and catching a wave after her. 

He caught up to her on shore, grinning ear to ear. “What the fuck was that?!” JJ cried out. 

Charlie smirked and shrugged. “Like I said. I’m okay.” 

“If that’s just okay, then I’m just okay.” He bragged. “Seriously, Walker, I didn’t think you could rip like that.” 

Charlie just winked. “Race ya!” She yelled over her shoulder, taking off with a head start. 

He laughed and chased her into the waves, paddling out and keeping pace with her. They kept taking turns, one after another for a while, until they both grew tired. 

“I can’t keep up anymore,” JJ groaned. 

“Okay, okay, last one. It’s big, we can both catch it,” Charlie pointed out. 

“Deal.” JJ spit into his hand, force of habit with the Pogues, and went to shake Charlie’s hand. She just looked at him in disgust, wrinkling her nose. 

“You’re gross.” 

He retracted his hand, embarrassed and dipped it in the water. “I was just kidding!” 

Charlie just shook her head and started paddling out in sync with JJ, concentrating on the wave. Unlucky for her, he was concentrated on the curve of her ass instead. As they both stood, he got distracted and crashed the end of his board into hers, tossing both of them into the waves. It took an extra beat for Charlie to surface, her leash wrapped around her leg. 

She came up with a big inhale, sputtering. “What the fuck, Maybank?” She demanded. Charlie held onto her board for support, coughing up water. 

Uncharacteristically, he was bright red, not able to tell her the real reason why he made them wipe out. “Sorry, I, uh, wasn’t paying attention. Are you okay?” He steadied her board for her, coming closer to help her on. 

Charlie maneuvered her board away from him, pissed off. “I’m fine, no thanks to you.” 

“Shit, Charlie, I really didn’t mean to. Here, I can help you back to shore, check your leg out.” He offered apologetically, starting to paddle in with her. 

The last thing she wanted at the moment was his help, but her leg was stinging and that was never a good sign. “I thought you were supposed to be good at this, Maybank.” 

Her tone didn’t slip past him and he took her board from her immediately as they got to shore, ignoring her whine of protest. “I don’t know, I’m off my game, I guess.” He saw a trail of blood dripping down her leg and winced. “Stay here, I’ll go grab something for that.” 

Charlie glanced down at the scrape on her leg and groaned, flopping back into the sand and shielding her eyes from the sun with her arm. 

JJ returned quickly and knelt down in front of her as she propped herself up on her elbows. “I think it’s just a scrape but my board got you pretty good. I’m really sorry, Walker,” he apologized. 

“That’s Charlie Walker to you.” She retorted dryly. 

He laughed a little, then realized she wasn’t kidding around. JJ carefully dabbed the area with his shirt, wiping the sand away, then covered it in what was probably expired Neosporin and an old bandage. After a few too many falls, Kie made all of them put a tiny first aid kit in their cars ‘just in case.’ 

“Hey, at least it’s not as bad as when you sprained your ankle at the Clemson tailgate,” he joked to ease the mood. 

She shot him a glare. “That was your stupid pledge brother’s fault for running into me.” 

He dropped the smile. “Right. Not the beer bong you did beforehand?”  

She scowled. “Watch yourself, Maybank.” 

“That’s JJ Maybank to you.” He said, testing a smile with her. 

When she just rolled her eyes, he gave up. “I think I got you all fixed up, though. I’m sorry. Again.” He ran his hand through his hair, messing with it as a nervous habit. 

“It’s whatever. Thanks for the bandaid.” Charlie got up, ignoring his extended hand to help. She grabbed her board and stormed off. It probably was an honest accident, but she was still pissed. Plus, now she had an honest excuse to ignore the boy that had been living in her head rent-free since the first kegger. 

_______________________________________________________________________

JJ watched her stomp away and groaned once she was out of earshot. He brought the first-aid kit and his board back to the car, then grabbed his phone and texted the Pogues. 

~POGUE LIFE~ 

JJ: I fucked up

Kie: u ok??? 

Pope: What did you do 

John B: I’m with Sarah is it important

JJ: was surfing with Charlie and I busted her wave 

Pope: That’s it? 

JJ: no it was bad 

JJ: no chance of being friends now

Kie: i’m sure it’s not that bad, you’re such a drama queen 

Kie: is she ok? 

JJ: yeah I cleaned her up but she’s pissed 

Pope: She’ll get over it, I think she likes you  

Pope: Has she texted you yet

JJ: no and no thanks to you 

John B: well your stuttering in the ice cream shop didn’t help

Kie: play nice boys

_______________________________________________________________________

Friday rolled around, the day Charlie had been dreading. The last thing she wanted to do was go to a party and have a chance of running into JJ again. Normally an accident like that wouldn’t have pissed her off as much as it did, but there was something about the blonde boy that just irritated her to no end. She sat in Grace’s room as her friend practically tore her closet apart, looking for just the right outfit for Charlie. Charlie’s typical beach uniform of choice was just a tank top and jean shorts, but Grace had different plans. 

“Try this one on,” she said as she tossed a shirt at Charlie. 

Charlie held the garment up with one finger, eyeing it skeptically. “This thing? You can practically see your nipples when you wear it.” 

Grace rolled her eyes. “That’s the whole fucking point, Charlie, we’re trying to show you off here. How else do you think I hooked up with the quarterback?” 

Charlie gasped, genuinely surprised. “Grace Evans! You did not!” 

Grace grinned. “Did I forget to tell you about that one? It was after the Georgia win. Someone had to congratulate him,” she teased, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively. 

The real reason Grace kept lecturing Charlie to stay away from JJ? She knew his game way too well - because she was practically the female version herself. She even made it onto the Beta composite last year when she was voted fraternity sweetheart. Sleeping with the president will get you to the top pretty quickly. 

“You are too damn much.” Charlie laughed, but pulled on the shirt anyway. Her chest was smaller than Grace’s and the crop top, while still low-cut, flattered her chest in just the right way. “Huh. It’s not too bad.” 

Grace beamed. “Then I know the perfect skirt.” She tossed a floral smocked skirt in Charlie’s direction. “I know it’s not your style, but trust me on this. No one will be able to resist you tonight.” 

Charlie obliged and pulled it on. “I just need to drink enough to not remember the guy’s name and I’ll be set.” 

“That’s my girl!” Grace grinned. “Let’s go, now we’re fashionably late.” 

_______________________________________________________________________

It was only an hour into the party before Charlie was tugging at her crop top to stay up and her skirt to stay down to an appropriate length. She was five White Claws deep (thanks to a pregame at Grace’s house) and definitely feeling it. She had seen JJ the second she walked in, but slipped in through the crowd and got away without him noticing. Focusing hard on walking in a straight line, she kept her eyes trained on the ground as she walked toward the keg - and straight into a Touron’s chest. 

The guy smiled and reached out to steady her, his glance going south to her chest. “Whoa there, don’t fall for me before we’ve even talked,” he said. 

She laughed, cheeks going red. “Hi, sorry, I was just trying to find more drinks.” 

He nodded. “Let’s go find more drinks then. I’m Scott.” He placed a hand on the small of her back to guide her through the party. 

Normally she would tell him to fuck off and get the drinks on her own, but after a second glance and deciding he was cute enough, she let it happen. “I’m Charlie. Nice to meet you,” she offered. 

“Pleasure’s mine, darling.” 

She laughed as they entered the kitchen. “You must be from the south.” 

He chuckled, pointing to the Alabama logo on his polo. “Guilty. Roll tide.” 

Charlie wrinkled her nose. “Ugh. That’s unfortunate.” 

He laughed and leaned over her to grab her a canned Smirnoff mixer out of the cooler, along with the last beer for him. 

Charlie squinted to read the 8% on the can and shook her head, knowing it was a bad idea, but then reminded herself of the reason she came out tonight and popped the tab with a sigh. 

“Let me guess, you go to North Carolina?” Scott questioned. 

“No.” Charlie was already bored. 

“Duke, then. All the pretty girls end up there.” 

She shook her head. “Ugh, no. I go to SC.” 

He nodded in recognition. “Ahh, an SEC girl! You must know how to party then.” 

Charlie shrugged, letting him carry the bulk of the conversation. “Guess so.”  

Behind her, JJ had spotted Charlie following the Touron into the beach house and made his way toward her. Before he got too close, he felt a small hand on his wrist pull him backward. 

“Hey - oh. Hi, Grace,” JJ muttered unenthusiastically. She hung around the Beta house far too often last year for him to not recognize her instantly. 

She gave him a look, crossing her arms to set the tone. “What are you doing?” 

“Uh...just getting more drinks?” JJ tried. 

Grace gave him a short laugh. “Don’t humor me, Maybank. I saw you watch Charlie go in there.” 

He relented quickly. “Look, I just wanted to say hi, that’s all. I got her leg scratched up earlier this week and thought I’d check in on her.” 

Grace scoffed. “Yeah. I heard. I don’t trust you.” 

JJ crossed his arms back, annoyed. “Okay, I’ll bite. Why don’t you trust me, Grace Evans?” 

Grace pointed two fingers at her eyes, then back at his. “Because I know exactly how you play your game, JJ Maybank, and you’re not playing it with my Charlie. She’s not gonna get hurt because of you.” 

JJ frowned. “I just want to check up on her, god!” He raised his eyebrows. “You know, I could do that if you just gave me her number…” 

She laughed. “Nice try, stupid. Leave her alone, she’s trying to get laid.” 

JJ had just taken a sip of his beer and choked on the drink. He grinned. “Well I could help her with that.” 

Grace glared. “Go find some other Touron to pick up tonight, JJ, leave her alone. You’re trouble.” With that, she walked away. JJ turned back to look into the beach house, but Charlie was nowhere in sight. He sighed, walking back to his friends with slumped shoulders. 

Pope gave him a sympathetic smile. “No luck?” 

JJ shook his head, draining the rest of his beer. “No, I got intercepted by her friend. John B, remember Grace Evans?” 

The tips of John B’s ears turned red and his grip around Sarah’s shoulders got a little tighter. “Uh...no?” He tried. 

Sarah looked up curiously. “Didn’t she go to your school?” 

JJ laughed, lightly punching John B’s arm. “Ohh...of course you remember Grace Evans, you crushed on her for a whole summer until -” 

John B’s eyes went wide, telling him to shut up. 

Sarah turned to her boyfriend, arms crossed. “Until what, John B?” 

John B flipped JJ off. “Thanks a lot.” 

Sarah turned back to JJ. “No, go on, I really want to hear this.” 

JJ shook his head. “No can do, Cameron,” and walked away before he had to deal with hearing the argument he probably just started. 

JJ made his way toward the beach and saw Charlie and the Touron, Scott, sitting out on the sand together. Alone. His brow furrowed and he walked closer til he could hear their conversation. 

“We should get out of here,” Scott offered, helping her up from the sand. 

Charlie blinked a couple times. “Huh? Honestly...I just wanna go to bed. I’m fuckin’ tired.” 

Scott smiled. “Come on, I’ll find you a place to sleep.” His arm went around her waist and trailed along the hem of her crop top. 

JJ frowned and jogged over, taking the drink from Charlie’s hand. “Hey, everything okay here?” 

Scott nodded. “We were just -” 

JJ crossed his arms and straightened up so he had a few inches on him, stepping toward Scott. “I wasn’t asking you. I was asking Charlie.” 

Charlie looked between the two of them. “I dunno. I think we’re gonna go take a nap?” 

JJ frowned deeper. “With this guy you don’t know?” 

Scott dropped his arm from Charlie’s waist and stepped up til he was face-to-face with JJ. “I got her man, don’t worry about it.” 

JJ shoved his chest. “Fuck that. You can leave.” 

Scott shoved his shoulder back and turned to Charlie, taking her hand. “Charlie, doll, you don’t want me to leave, do you?” 

JJ gritted his teeth and stepped in between the two of them, putting Charlie behind him protectively. 

Charlie reached up and tapped JJ’s shoulder. “Don’t fight, JJ, please?” 

JJ softened at the sound of his name and looked back to Scott. “You heard her. Fuck off.” 

Scott rolled his eyes. “Whatever. She’s boring anyway.” He walked back to the party and JJ kept an eye on him til he was out of sight. 

Seeing Charlie sway, JJ put his arm around Charlie’s shoulders to support her. “Careful, Walker, I got you.” 

She leaned into JJ. “I’m not boring, am I, Maybank?” 

JJ laughed quietly. “Anything but.” 

Charlie nodded, satisfied. “JJ...I’m drunk. Grace is gonna be mad at me.” 

He smiled. “Yeah? I’m almost drunk too. Why is Grace going to be mad at you?” 

She pouted, sticking out her bottom lip. “Because she let me borrow her clothes so I could get laid.” 

JJ grinned, amused. “I heard. And you look great. But why are you so set on getting laid? I mean, no judgment, just seems like you had a very set plan.” 

Charlie shrugged, resting her head on JJ’s chest. “My ex cheated on me and I need to move on. A good fuck usually helps with that.” 

JJ cleared his throat in surprise, moving his hands to her shoulders and carefully sitting her down. “I’m sorry. You don’t deserve that. I-uh, um, yeah. Sleeping with someone can help. Sometimes.” He sat next to her but made sure to keep distance between them. 

“I mean, you would know, right? You’ve had your fair share of fucking around.” Charlie asked pointedly and scooted closer. 

JJ laughed loudly in response. “I guess so?” 

She turned to him, a thought occurring and her eyebrows rising. “Oh! Is the thing about the handcuffs true?” 

JJ looked at her in shock. “The handcuffs? What thing about the handcuffs?” 

Charlie grinned. “You know. With Jenna Gray? She said you two hooked up after the Florida tailgate and you had handcuffs.” 

JJ ran a hand over his face, groaning. “Dear god. Now I can see where you’re coming from, talking about my “reputation,” He said, putting the last word in finger quotes. “I never hooked up with Jenna Gray, we kissed at the tailgate and then she puked in our bathroom and I called her an Uber home.” 

Charlie sat back, thinking. “Oh. Huh. I wonder how many stories I’ve heard are true, then.” 

JJ shook his head. “We’re gonna have to review those together when I’m not as drunk.” 

Charlie extended her pinky toward him. “Deal.” 

JJ smiled and locked his pinky with hers, then brought it to his lips and kissed it before letting go. “Deal.” 

They both turned as they heard voices from a boy and a girl heading their way. Charlie bit her lip as she saw Rafe come into view, hand-in-hand with the girl she had caught him cheating on her with. She weighed her decision, looking back and forth hurriedly between JJ and Rafe walking closer. 

“Are you okay, Charlie?” JJ asked, concerned. 

“I’m fine, um..” She glanced over just as Rafe seemed to recognize her and turned back toward JJ. 

“Oh, fuck it,” she muttered under her breath. Taking JJ by surprise, Charlie leaned over and her lips met his. 

He didn’t hesitate to kiss back, threading his fingers through her hair as she pushed him gently back into the sand. JJ took control instantly, flipping them over so he was on top. He broke off the passionate kiss reluctantly, hovering over her as Rafe walked away. 

The blonde choked out a laugh. “I’m not complaining, believe me I’m not. But what was that?” 

tags: @booksandshish​ @jiaraendgame​

[kitty-cat-is-back]

What Am I Doing with My Life? Chapter 2

Pairing: Sero Hanta x Reader

Word Count: 1.6k

A/N: Holy moly guys! I know I said this is another post, but I am still in shock about how well recieved the first chapter was! Thank you so so much everyone! Now, I just want to say before anyone asks, I have no idea how long this will be. I’m basically just writing as I go, but I do know how I want it to end! Hopefully you guys will stick around til the end! Also, let me know if I should do a taglist for this! Anywho, I hope you guys enjoy this chapter!

Chapter 1

Warnings: signs of depression, angst (I guess), a bit of cursing

‘How did I end up here?’

You sat stiffly at a wobbly table in the corner of the cafe, staring down at your lap intensely. Honestly, this just seemed like a dream. Or a nightmare. You hadn’t quite figured out which one it was yet. You hesitantly glanced up to see Hanta at the counter, chatting up the barista with his usual big smile. He hadn’t changed at all. Well… That wasn’t necessarily true. Actually, he had changed quite a lot. His once lanky body had filled out quite nicely with age, starting at the top with broad shoulders and going down to what you would assume was a muscled abdomen, or at least that was what the tight heather grey t-shirt was telling you. Your gaze traveled back up to his face, noticing his strong jawline and how well it complemented his features. You realize you might’ve been staring a bit too long when you notice him staring back at you, amusement in his eyes, and a cunning grin. Your eyes widen a bit before promptly looking back down at your lap, your face burning with embarrassment.

Hanta grabbed both of your drinks and came back to the table, taking the seat across from yours, “Here you go! A nice, tasty water,” he teased, “Are you sure you don’t want something else? I really don’t mind paying to get you something better,” he said, taking a sip of his coffee.

You cleared your throat and grabbed the water, “No, this is fine. Thank you though…” you replied softly, taking a quick drink in hopes it would smooth out all of your awkwardness.

Sero hummed in acknowledgment and kept his focus on you, “Well, anyways… How have you been? I don’t think anyone’s heard from you since graduation!”

‘Why is he being so nice to me?’

You adjusted uncomfortably in your seat and gave a small shrug of your shoulders, “Oh, y’know… I’ve been good. Moved here to go to school, got my masters in psych, and now I’m working as a therapist essentially.”

Hanta’s eyes lit up with interest, “Wow, really!? That’s so cool! You’re basically like a doctor! You were always pretty smart back then, so that actually shouldn’t surprise me all that much… Not to mention moving all the way to Chicago straight out of high school. That must’ve been a pretty tough challenge…”

‘He’s talking as if nothing happened…’

You laughed awkwardly, scratching your cheek in discomfort, “Well, I’m not a doctor! I think that’s offensive to actual doctors who did the extra schooling. I can’t prescribe any medication, but I do provide them with therapy and advice… And I guess the move was a little challenging, but after eight years I think I’m used to it. B-But enough about me! My life isn’t all that interesting, what about you?”

Hanta quirked an eyebrow, “Me? Well… I tried community college for a semester, but pretty quickly decided I wasn’t ready to take on four more years of schooling. So I dropped out and started job hunting. Had an office job for a while, but I wasn’t very happy doing that either. It wasn’t until one night when I was out with the squad that we all, drunkenly, of course, decided that we all hated our nine to fives and wanted to work for ourselves! So we made our own company! So now we get to work on our own time, make good money, and actually have fun doing it! Plus, we get to do cool things like going on a trip to Chicago with the excuse of it being ‘marketing research,’” he stated with air quotes.

‘His life sounds great, so why is he talking to me?’

“Wow, that takes a lot of guts, but at least it all turned out for the best. Finding happiness in life and job fulfillment is something a lot of people struggle with…” you noted, briefly pondering your own work-life balance, “But you said you’re on a business trip? For how long?”

“Yea, it’s for about two weeks. We wanted to make the most out of our vacation! But… We actually have to do a little bit of work. Katsuki would kill us if we didn’t!”

“...We?”

“Oh, yea! I came with Kaminari, which was probably a terrible idea in hindsight… Actually, I was just with him walking around the city and that’s when I saw you! I thought it was you that I walked past and I just had to be sure! Thank God it was you, otherwise, I would’ve just been a crazy person yelling in the streets,” he said with a cheery laugh.

“So… You just abandoned Kaminari.”

“...More or less, yes.”

‘How can he be so carefree?’

You couldn’t help but let out a breathy laugh. You couldn’t tell if it was from actual amusement or disbelief. You felt like you had been transported back to a time when you were… happy. You felt something you hadn’t felt in years and… you didn’t feel like you deserved to feel this.

Hanta could feel something uncertain left in the silence between you, “Speaking of this, I’m sorry if you’re uncomfortable by all this. That wasn’t my intention! I just happened to see you out in the street and my legs started moving to you before I even had a chance to think of what I was going to say if I got to you. I missed you, y’know?”

‘...what…?’

At those last words, your throat clenched and your eyes began to burn with tears. You’ve kept everything locked up so tightly all these years, not letting anything get to you. How was it that a few words were able to crack your walls? The shaky breath that you released along followed by a sniffle became an instant giveaway to your current state.

‘He missed me…?’

Hanta’s eyes practically bulged out of his head when he realized what was going on, “Oh shit, I’m so sorry! I’ve made you uncomfortable, haven’t I!? Fuck, I didn’t mean to make you upset…”

‘He missed me…’

You turned your face away from him and desperately started trying to cover up your blunder, “No, no! I’m fine! Don’t apologize! I um… There must be a cold breeze that’s blowing on me. Yea, the air is just making my eyes water… I’m n-not crying! I-” you paused when you felt a warm hand placed on top of your own. Your head snapped back and met Hanta’s eyes, shocked to find a loving and gentle look in them.

“Y/N… What’s wrong?”

You couldn’t hold back anymore. Tears streamed down your cheeks for the first time in years. When was the last time you cried? You don’t even think you could remember. You choked back a sob and lowered your head.

‘Everything.’

“Nothing,” you started.

Hanta squeezed your hand while gently caressing his thumb over the top of it, “Don’t act like I don’t know you. We might have gotten older, but you’re still exactly as I remember you. Bottling everything up until you burst. If this is about back then, I’m just going to set the record straight and tell you outright that I don’t care. That’s in the past and I wouldn’t have chased after you today if I was mad at you. Please… Just talk to me.”

You squeezed your eyes shut as you tried to get yourself under control, but it was no use. Hanta had made a large crack in your wall and you couldn’t patch it up. You weren’t ready to bring that up just yet, but you knew he wouldn’t just let this slide. You had to come up with something…

You shook your head, “No… It’s just-” you paused and swallowed thickly, “It’s… my apartment.”

Hanta narrowed his eyes, searching for any trace of lies, “...Your apartment?”

You nodded and sniffled, using your free hand to wipe away some of your tears, “Uh-huh… It’s um… There’s no light in my apartment. I have windows, but they face a brick wall of another building. Every morning I wake up in a dark apartment and just stare at the brick wall, hoping one day it’ll just turn into a nice backyard in the suburbs, like back at home. Most mornings, I don’t even want to get out of bed, knowing that even when I leave my apartment, it’s still dark outside. I thought when I moved here every day would be a fun adventure in the big city. But… Even when the sun is shining, it still feels… dark,” you finish, realizing even despite yourself, you still opened up. Just maybe not in the way he wanted.

Hanta stayed silent for a moment, processing everything you had said. It seemed real to him, but he knew there was so much more wrong than just where you lived, “Do you even want to live here anymore?”

“It was always my dream to live in a big city…”

“Well, what’s your dream now?”

You didn’t answer.

Hanta nodded, knowing that’s all he was going to be able to get out of you for now, “So… Your apartment, huh? Well, let’s go check it out! I’ve always wanted to see what a lavish big city apartment looks like anyways!”

Your head snapped back towards him, “Wait, what? No, Hanta, I don’t think that-”

“Besides, I consider myself to be a gentleman. If something is distressing you, I have to try and fix it, right? I think that’s written in the gentlemen’s code, right?” he retorted quickly, not giving you the chance to tell him no. He had a newfound mission and he only had two weeks to do it. He stood with conviction and pulled you up by the hand he was still holding, “Well, lead the way!”

‘Not again…’

[perseusjackson-jasongrace]

His Blood Runs Gold III

Percy is a God: Part III

Here’s my masterlist for the next part and my other stuff

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they made you into a weapon

and told you to find peace.

They travelled for hours by the light of the moon. Conversation was sparse and restricted to the quest, made clear only by Jason’s refusal to answer anything beyond that.

“I don’t know how long to follow the star for,” The demigod was mumbling, staring into the skies.

“Leave it to a prophecy to be as vague as possible.”

“Can’t you use your godly-hood to help?”

“You know it doesn’t work like that.” Percy frowned.

“Yea I know but it was worth the shot,” Jason sighed.

“What do the arrows look like?”

“Hah, you should know the lovely divine would never tell us such helpful details.”

He laughed, “I remember frantically searching for Zeus’ lightning bolt on my first quest. We didn’t know how it would appear and then suddenly it was in my backpack while we faced the God of the Underworld. Fear had never tasted so deadly before.”

“Tell me about it. Trying to slay that damn Trojan monster felt like a one-way ticket to the end of the road.”

Percy shuddered as moments from various quests reeled through his mind.

“Guess nothing much changes, hey?” Jason huffed. “I’m still going on fatal quests for spoiled Gods.”

“At least this time you have one of those Gods by your side,” He joked

“Are you admitting that you’re spoilt?”

“Am I?”

“I don’t know Percy Jackson, are you?”

He turned his head, to see blue eyes piercing into him. “This is a pointless conversation.”

Jason mumbled something under his breath before turning forward again.

“What have you been doing these last years?”

“I’m sure Reyna has kept you updated.” The bite in those words tore at Percy’s gut.

“She just told me you were volunteering for every quest or burying yourself in camp activities.”

“Yea well it’s a good distraction from the flaming pool of horror that is my life.”

“What?”

Ignoring the question, the blonde gestured to the land below them, “You think you can use your godliness to find the arrows, so I don’t have to do this?”

“If I knew I would have gone to get them myself.”

“Well what’s the point then?” Lightning flickered in those eyes.

“What’s the point of… me?”

“Yes.” Jason glared, “What is the point of you Percy?”

“You asked me to protect you?”

“I asked you,” The demigod gritted, “To guide me.”

Percy swallowed the snap of pain, “What was the prophecy?”

Jason gave him a look, but recited the words:

Go north and follow the brightest star

Retrieve the arrow of foe but gain a scar

When you move on to the land of old

Find what you seek in a heart of gold

Indeed Son of Jupiter and Child of Greece

When this is over you will find peace

“That actually seems nice. It says you’ll find peace.”

“When does the prophecy ever say something it actually means?”

“Well I don’t know what else that could mean?” He frowned, confused.

“It probably, most definitely means I’m gonna die, but fuck it right? There’s not much to live for these days anyway.”

“Jason what are you talking about? This isn’t like you at all.”

“Yea well I stopped being like me three years ago when my best friend faked his death, and my other best friend left me to become a god, and my girlfriend admitted she didn’t ‘love me that way’ and she ‘needed space’,”

Percy reeled back in shock as blow after blow was delivered.

“So I’m sorry I’m not really ‘up to life’ these days. Forgive me.”

“Why didn’t you ever tell me any of this?” He asked softly, willing Zarya to move forward.

“How could I have told you I was breaking apart when you were finally starting to stitch yourself back together? You had just become a God, and you and Annabeth were so– so happy.” Bitter was a horrid taste.

The Son of Jupiter turned to face the God once more, “You guys were even going to therapy together. You seemed care-free for once and I didn’t want to ruin that. It just seemed better to drift away, to keep myself.” Tears pooled and spilled over golden cheeks.

“Oh Jase,” Percy whispered, and with half a gallop the demigod was in his arms.

“I can’t believe you’ve felt so alone all this time. I’m sorry you thought you couldn’t come to me. I– I should have been a better friend.”

At this the sobs increased, wracking his whole body.

It may have been seconds, or minutes, or hours while the two sat on their mounts, embracing each other, pulling themselves together.

When they broke apart, it was Jason who gave a watery smile, “Thank you.”

“I missed you Grace.”

“I missed you too Jackson.”

And as the sun came up the half-blood and the God used those rays of light to fill in the cracks of their friendship.

When Jason lolled forward in exhaustion Percy picked him up and with a nod to Tempest and Zarya, descended to the earth once more.

From what he could tell they were still in the North Atlantic Ocean but fast heading towards the South. If he had to guess, they would reach the equator within another night’s travel and Polaris– the North Star– would disappear.

If his hunch was correct, they would find Eros’ arrow at the place that separates the earth’s hemispheres; and the half-blood in his arms, who was born for the skies might dismay that it rests between the African and South American coasts. Percy would think on it all tomorrow. For now, he formed a bubble around Jason and dropped him into the sea before diving after him.

He didn’t need to rest really, not anymore, so he kept watch as his friend slept. He spent the time talking to the creatures that passed; helped a little seal who had got caught in a fishermen’s net, and munched on some ambrosia. It was weird to not have to monitor how much of the godly food he was eating– weird that the burning sensation after eating more than one small piece didn’t race up his throat.

He didn’t have to eat as much unless he was expending power. He supposed it was convenient that he really only needed these golden squares to survive, but he missed gorging himself on cheeseburgers after a fight and washing everything down with coke.

With a sigh, he tucked the rest of the ambrosia into the folds of the waves, and watched as it disappeared. He knew it floated in the between, waiting to be summoned once more, as with everything he had but didn’t need. It reminded him of the tool-belt Leo Valdez wore.

Percy smiled softly as he remembered his reunion with Leo. The demigod had knocked on the door of Sally’s apartment, Calypso in tow, and demanded to know why Percy hadn’t been at camp-half blood or SPQR for almost six months. When his mom had explained that he was a god Leo had burst into flames because he was so excited. Percy popped in just in time, pulling water from the kitchen taps and dousing the demigod and the plants that had caught alight. After a long and bruising hug, the two had talked for hours.

He was surprised to find that seeing Calypso again wasn’t awkward. In fact, after they had gotten teary catch-ups and soft squeezes out the way, her and Sally had disappeared to the garden leaving him and Leo to tackle the enchiladas his mom had been making for lunch.

Over the next years Percy often found himself walking into his mom’s house only to see Leo, and most times Calypso, sitting around the kitchen table or on the couch playing with Estelle. Sally had practically adopted the two, claiming that having Leo around reminded her of Percy when he was young- so full of buzzing energy and always busy, busy, busy with his hands. Paul, who by now could see through the mist relatively well, was fascinated by Leo’s power and Calypso’s extensive knowledge of history so he was happy to have them there too.

It was entirely ludicrous that fire and water could become such good friends but there was something about Leo that made Percy feel energized, awake, alive. in the rare moments that Percy had more than a few days on his hands, the two would get lost in video games, egging each other one, and creating general chaos in his mom’s house. It helped that the demigod made a mean plate of tacos and used his power to make the cheese all melty.

He was grateful, beyond grateful, that he had found someone who reminded him of his old life. Who kept him tied to the fun, child-like wonder he had so long possessed. He feared if he ever lost that, he would truly be a spoilt god indeed.

Pulling himself from his memories he turned to check on Jason and sighed softly at the peaceful look in the half-blood’s face. It was times like this, when he was surrounded by sea with only his thoughts to keep him company, that he felt most godly; strange he knew. But something about currents matched the constant push and pull of his mind. He became more ocean than being.

So Percy Jackson, God of protection and guidance, floated in the blue Atlantic waters and waited for his protégé to rest.

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Let me have it??? How are you feeling about this????????

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[petersasteria]

Anger Issues - Harry Holland

Requested? Nope. I’ve been meaning to write this for so long and decided “fuck it” whether ppl will read it or not lmao what’s important is I finally release some decent content and I like it and that’s important.

Pairing: Harry x Reader

Words: 4,307

Masterlist 

* * * *

"Please wait here and the doctor will call you when it's your turn." the assistant tells you before leaving the waiting room. You look around and see two guys there. One of them had his hands in his pockets, his hood up, and his head nodding along to the music going through his earphones. In short, he looks like your average everyday mysterious emo guy from high school. The other guy looks the total opposite. He was like the guy everyone liked, but not exactly popular. He was on his phone, chuckling from time to time. He was wearing a blue sweater and some worn out jeans.

You sit across from them and the two guys look at you. You give them a tight-lipped smile. Emo guys rolled his eyes, but the guy next to him smiles back at you. It wasn't a fake smile either. It was a genuine smile.

'Seems like a nice guy.' you thought to yourself.

The less emo guy puts his phone in his pocket and starts up a conversation, "I've never seen you around here before and we're here every week. What-"

"Can you just shut the fuck up, Thomas? Why do you have to talk all the fucking time?? You're so fucking annoying. Maybe that's why your girlfriend left you for that other guy." emo guy snaps.

You and 'Thomas' look at him. While you were shocked at his mini outburst, 'Thomas' looked like he was used to it, though. "You don't have to speak like that whenever you're annoyed at someone, Harry." Thomas tells him in a soft and comforting voice.

"Wow. Look at you being a big brother for once!" Harry says sarcastically. "And the brother of the year award goes to...Thomas Stanley Holland! Give it up for him everybody!" He claps his hands. At this point, you and Thomas are beginning to feel uncomfortable. Especially you; you've never met these people before.

Thomas looks at you with a sorry expression, "I'm sorry about Harry. Anyway, I assume you heard my name already-"

"Of course she did. She has ears, dipshit." Harry mutters under his breath before taking his phone out of his pocket and scrolling through it.

"You can call me 'Tom'." Tom smiles, ignoring Harry. "What's your name?"

"Y/N." you tell him. Tom nods before looking at Harry then at you. He gets up from his seat and immediately sits next to you. You were a bit... scared. A stranger suddenly sits next to you after his brother shouts at him in anger isn't exactly an ideal way of meeting and getting to know someone.

Tom seems to notice your change of demeanor and chuckles, "I won't do anything, don't worry. It's just nice to see someone else in this place on a Saturday morning. It's usually just me and him and sometimes Sam, our brother, tags along too. But most of the time, just me and him."

You nod and feel yourself getting comfortable with Tom. "So, why are you alone? It's hard seeing a psychiatrist alone for the first time. I mean, it's not Harry's first time here, that's for sure. But if I were in your place, coming here with someone closest to me would make me feel less scared and nervous. Even if they don't go inside the room with you, it's nice to know that there's someone in the waiting room who's waiting for you and who's there for you every step of the way." Tom rambles.

"My parents dropped me off and then they said that they'll come back for me when I text them as soon as I finish here." you tell him truthfully.

"Well, they're shitty parents." Tom crosses his arms, "No offense."

"None taken." you chuckle. "They are shitty parents, though." Tom laughs and shakes his head.

The door opens and the current patient quickly in tears. The patient practically ran, not giving you a chance to see if it were a girl or boy. You look at the direction they came from and see the psychiatrist standing there. You look at the psychiatrist in fear.

You turn to Tom and whisper, "Why the fuck was that patient crying? Is this lady batshit crazy? Does she always make them cry??"

"Of course not." Tom whispers. "All I know about that last patient is that they're always here three times a week. I know, because I've asked before."

"Harry, you can come in now." the psychiatrist smiles at him. Harry rolls his eyes and stands up, getting his backpack (which needed to be washed) from the floor.

"You'll get through this today, Harry! I'm right here." Tom smiles at him, cheering him on as if Harry were to compete at something. Harry looks at him, gives him a fake smile, and the middle finger before entering the room, the 'click' of the door being closed was heard immediately after he went in.

"Now it's just you and me." Tom says. "What do you usually do here when you're alone waiting for Harry?" you ask curiously, obviously bored out of your mind.

"I just go on my phone. Sometimes I bring my homework and do it here. But since I don't have homework at the moment, I'm as free as a bird." Tom answers. "Speaking of phone, let's exchange numbers! It'll be so much fun having a new friend!"

Thomas Stanley Holland was too bubbly for your liking. But you exchanged numbers anyway. Even social media usernames.

After two hours of chatting with Tom, you come to realize that he's genuinely a nice and friendly guy. You really had fun talking to him. Harry emerges from the room with the same mysterious emo look on his face. "Let's go, Thomas."

"Hey champ! How was it?" Tom smiles.

"Are you fucking mocking me?" Harry asks, his temper slightly rising.

Judging by the little time you've known Harry, you've come to conclusion that he's in therapy for his anger issues. You notice that the little things seem to tick him off. The dude's a fucking time bomb.

"Harry, I was just asking nicely. I didn't mean to offend you. Please don't get mad at me." Tom says in that comforting and soft voice.

An outsider would think that they're complete strangers who are fighting, because at this point, it's hard to believe that they're siblings.

"I wouldn't have gotten mad if you just followed me when I said that we should go home. I wouldn't have gotten mad if you didn't open your fucking mouth." Harry said in sort of a Draco Malfoy tone.

Tom looks at you and quietly says, "I'll text you." He stands up and follows his brother on his way out.

"Y/N, it's your turn." the psychiatrist says.

"Welp, here goes nothing." you say to yourself before going in the room and closing the door.

"Hello Y/N. I'm Dr. Joanne Moore. But you can call me Joanne, so that it's less intimidating." Joanne smiles. "Please take a seat and make yourself comfortable."

Joanne motions for you to sit on the couch while she sits across from you on the spinning office chair everyone loves. You do as she says and you let yourself relax as your gaze wanders around the room. The room was neither small nor large and the only light source was the sun shining outside; its rays coming through the window.

"I understand that you're new here. Where are you from?" Joanne asks.

"New York." you reply. Joanne hums and nods, "Why did you move here?"

"My father is English and my mother is American. My mom told my dad that maybe it'd be best to move to a new environment. She's basically sick of New York. Around the time she said that, my dad got offered a new job here with a salary higher than what he was paid back home. Then, the rest is history." you respond. You've been repeating the same response to your neighbors and to everyone you meet, so you completely memorize it like the back of your hand. You can say shit in your sleep.

"I see. Welcome to London." Joanne smiles. You mutter a small 'thank you' before leaning back on the couch.

"Would you like to tell me why you're here?" Joanne asks.

"I thought you'd never ask." you lightly chuckle.

-

"Y/N, is that you?!" you hear a familiar voice from your left side. You turn your head and see Tom with a smile on his face, "Oh my god, it is you! I didn't know we had the same school. Why didn't you tell me?"

"Um, I didn't think it was necessary?" your answer came out more like a question.

"Of course, it's necessary. We're best friends now!" Tom grins. He looks behind him and says, "Guys, come here!" A group of guys walk in your direction with Harry following behind them.

"Guys, this is Y/N the girl from therapy." Tom introduces. "Y/N, this is the gang: Harrison, Sam, Jacob, and of course you know Harry."

"Hi everyone." you smile politely.

"Hey you don't have an accent too!" Jacob smiles. "I'm from Hawaii. What about you?"

"New York." you smile proudly. You were beginning to feel homesick and talking about New York would make you feel much better.

"That's so awesome! I've been there once. It was family vacation and I had so much fun there! Maybe there was a slight chance we bumped into each other while I was there or something." Jacob tells.

"Are we going to class or are we going to stand here all day while Jacob tells his New York escapade?" a voice from the back startles everyone even though they knew who it belonged to. The five of you look at Harry and mutter apologies to which Harry replied with "whatever" and rolling his eyes before leaving the group.

"My twin has left, lady and gentlemen." Sam says to all of you.

"Wait, he's your twin?" you ask in shock.

"Yup." Sam confirms. "Hard to take in, right?"

You nod in agreement. "Let's go to class. I don't want to be late on my first day." you chuckle nervously.

"You'll be fine! We'll probably have classes with you." Harrison says, calming your nerves a bit. "Good luck if you have a class with Harry, though. He's hard to work with. He kind of wants to do his own thing, but he helps even though he's like that."

Harrison's heads up about Harry made you not want to share a class with him.

Luck wasn't on your side, however. As soon as you enter your first class, which is history, the only empty seat was next to Harry. You take a deep breath before walking to the empty seat next to him.

"Oh great." Harry mumbles. Understanding his issues, you bite back a reply and just take in everything that's happening. Everyone is talking to each other except for you and Harry despite the fact that you know each other. To be fair, you aren't close with him. You're closer with Tom, so you didn't know what Harry liked to talk about.

Just then, the teacher arrives and everyone went to their proper seats. The teacher looked like she was in her mid 30s. She looked nice.

"Before we start, we have a new student from New York." she smiles at you. "Please, introduce yourself to everyone."

Harry turns to you and sees your shocked face. Upon seeing that, he chuckles and shakes his head, "Just get it over with." Hearing Harry being normal sounded so foreign to you, but you took his advice and went on to introduce yourself.

"You don't have to stay here in front. Just stand up and tell us about yourself." the teacher says.

"Okay, um, my name is Y/N Y/L/N and I'm from New York. I just moved here, like, a week ago. So yeah...that's it I guess." you awkwardly say and you sit down.

"Welcome Y/N! I hope you enjoy your stay. My name is Mrs. Smith and I'll be your history teacher." Mrs. Smith says. "Speaking of history, let's get started."

Mrs. Smith began to discuss for the rest of the time. Five minutes before the class ends, Mrs. Smith tells everyone that they'll have a project that'll be done in pairs. You didn't know anyone in class except for Harry and Harrison's warning is at the back of your head. So to say that you didn't know what to do would be an understatement.

"I already have a list of pairs and I'll dictate it." Mrs. Smith says.

'Thank god.' you mutter under your breath.

'Fucking hell.' Harry rolls his eyes.

"Y/N you'll be paired with Harry." Mrs. Smith smiles, before continuing. You look at Harry and he looks at you unimpressed.

"I don't usually allow anyone to work with me, but since you're new and you're practically best friends with my brother, I'll give you a chance. That's as far as I can go with being nice to someone." Harry tells you. You just nod, still kind of intimidated by him. "Also," he says again, "back the fuck off when we're out together. I don't like it when people invade my space." Harry fakes a smile and puts his stuff in his bag. You just stay quiet and do the same.

When Mrs. Smith dismisses the class, Harry immediately left. Of course, you followed. You didn't want to be alone in a room with people you didn't know. You'd much rather be stuck with Tom even though he talks too much and is too bubbly. You'd also prefer if you were stuck with Harry and even though he gets angry all the time and he hardly says anything to you, at least he's someone you know.

As soon as you leave the room, Tom and the rest were there to greet you. "Hey!!!" they all greet cheerfully.

"Oh my god what the fuck did I get myself into?" you ask yourself, putting on a smile for them nonetheless.

"Congrats! You survived your first class in your new school." Jacob says. "Are you ready to go through the rest of the day?"

"As ready as I'll ever be." you respond. It wasn't even at least half of the day and you were already tired. Tom and his friends seem to have a lot of energy and seeing them really energized makes you tired.

-

Saturday comes around again and you're back at therapy. You walk in the waiting room and see Harry there. Now, it's awkward. Like last week, you sit across from Harry and begin to mind your own business. 'He did say "back the fuck off", right?' you think to yourself.

"Tom has a dentist appointment in case you're wondering." Harry's voice startles you. You look up from your phone and see him already looking at you. "It's just me today. Sam is at his part time job and I don't want to bring my youngest brother, Paddy to this depressing place. I don't want him to end up mentally messed up. He doesn't deserve that."

How the fuck are you going to respond to that?

"Oh, I see." you says, still not sure what to reply. "Thanks for telling me, I guess."

"What'll you do after this?" Harry asks curiously.

"I'll probably just walk around or go sight seeing. My parents are on a business trip and all my siblings have their own lives now, because they're older than me." you tell him truthfully. He nods and says, "I have nothing going on at my place at the moment and I want to get away."

You shrug, "Go ahead, then. No one's stopping you."

Harry just stares at you and it's beginning to freak you out, because you don't know if he's going to burst or not. Finally, after almost a minute of silence and staring at each other Harry speaks up, "Do you have money on you?"

"Excuse me?"

Harry rolls his eyes, "Do you have cash right now? I have some stashed in my backpack right now."

"Um, is that even importa-"

"Just answer the fucking question, Becky." Harry says, clearly starting to get annoyed. "Yeah, I do. Why does it matter?" you gulp.

"Good." Harry says. "We'll talk later after your session. It's my turn now." As if on cue, the door opens and the patient from last week quickly runs past you and Harry. He stands up, grabs his backpack and enters the room.

To say you were confused was an understatement. Why was he suddenly talking to you? You decided to text Tom about it.

To: Tom

Hey man hope the dentist thing is going well for u. Harry just said the weirdest shit and idk what to say or feel. Send help xo

You didn't expect a reply, so you went on Instagram and just scrolled through it until it was your turn.

-

After your session, you were surprised to see Harry waiting for you. He looks up from his phone, takes out one of his earphones and asks, "Ready to go? I'm starving." You just nod and off you two went.

Both of you end up at a sandwich shop far from the building. You both eat in silence and it's beginning to feel awkward; for you at least. Harry seemed fine.

"Let's leave London." Harry says all of a sudden, making you choke on your sandwich. "Jesus, are you okay?" he asks with no concern, whatsoever. He's more worried about both of you causing a scene.

You finally calm down and nod, "Now I'm okay. Where are we going?"

Harry shrugs, "Anywhere we set our mind to. I haven't been outside of London for years. Maybe we could go somewhere to experience a new environment or whatever."

"...London is my new environment." you explain to him.

"I know, dipshit." Harry rolls his eyes, "but you wanted to go sight seeing, don't you?"

"Yeah, around London not outside London."

"What's wrong with going outside of London?!"

"Why're you pushing for us to go outside of London?!" you rebutt.

"BECAUSE I HATE THIS PLACE!!" Harry yells causing everyone in the shop to look at both of you. You flinch at his words and you didn't know what to say. Harry angrily stands up, kicks the chair, and leaves the shop. All of the customers and employees look at you with pity.

"Poor thing." one customer said.

"Wow, worst boyfriend of the year award goes to that guy." the other said.

You gather yours and Harry's belongings and run out of the shop, hoping you're not too late to catch Harry. After looking left and right, you see him standing not too far away and you approach him.

"Hey," you say softly, "you know what? Let's go outside London." You decided that maybe Harry hasn't been getting what he wanted that's why he's always angry, so you'll give him a chance. You also started using the same tactic as Tom: speaking softly which is quite difficult and tiring, but if Tom can do it, so can you.

Harry looks at you and nods. Without saying a word, he grabs his bag from you and walks to the train station. Not wanting to get lost on your second week in London, you rush to follow him before you lose him in the crowd.

-

"So where are we?" you ask Harry.

"Dorset." Harry responds. "It's probably my favorite place. I don't know why, but it calms me down. I usually go here alone, but I don't want to be alone at the moment." You nod, you understand the feeling.

You and Harry walk around and he shows you the different spots he likes to stay and relax at and somehow, both of you end up on top of a hill. The view was remarkable. It was different from your view in New York and different from your view in your room back in London. This view gave you peace and you're starting to understand why Harry likes it there so much.

You both sit on the grass and sit in silence. Taking in the smell of the sea while your hair was following in the direction the wind is blowing. "How long do you usually stay here?" you ask Harry almost in a whisper.

"Until it gets dark." Harry responds. "Sometimes I don't go home at all. Not like anyone would care anyway. It's boring back at home to the point where it doesn't feel like home anymore. Back in London I just live in a house with three brothers, a set of parents, and a dog named Tessa. Being with them doesn't feel like home."

You nod, "Is that why you go to therapy?" You knew it wasn't your business to ask, but he's starting open up to you about the things he's feeling.

"I think you already know why I go to therapy. I had an episode at the sandwich shop." Harry laughs bitterly. "Maybe the question should be asking me is how I ended up like this."

"I wasn't always like this, you know. Believe it or not, I was like Tom." Harry admits. You didn't say anything, though. You wanted to, but you figured he needed to let it all out.

"It happened two years ago. Kevin, my best friend, and I were walking home from school. We didn't know the bullies from school followed us, but when we noticed them it was too late. For some reason, I was an easy target. So they took my money and taunted me and all that shit. I was used to it, but Kevin had enough. He punched one of the bullies and soon, they were nearly killing each other. I tried to stop them, but two of them held me back while I watched how the 'leader' of the group punched the life out of Kevin. Maybe someone saw what was happening, because the police came. The 'leader' threw one last punch and pushed Kevin before running. The two guys who held me back pushed me forward and ran away too." Harry tells you, his voice becoming shaky.

"I immediately went to check on Kevin and panicked when I didn't feel a pulse. One of the policemen called an ambulance. Then we arrived at the hospital and he," Harry takes a deep breath, tears falling freely down his cheeks, "he was dead on arrival. I guess he got pushed really hard and his head collided on the concrete with so much force. Lethal damage."

"Ever since then, I never forgave myself. I could've done something; anything. But I was just there, watching as my best friend die right in front me." Harry sniffs. "I can't help, but blame myself. He intervened to save me. If I only knew that saving me would lead to his death, I wouldn't have let him. I would've just gave the bullies what they wanted so they can leave him alone. He was the only one who understood me and he knew my secrets."

"I lived with that guilt every day ever since that happened. I could never forgive myself. My family tried to help me move on, but I couldn't. Every time they helped, I pushed them away. Then I started to get irritated with everything they did, like, why can't they leave me the fuck alone?! My parents decided it would be best for me to go to therapy seeing as I won't let them help me. Tom went with me the first time, because I was irritated with him the most. He kept bugging me. And of course, up to this day he still accompanies me." Harry says, wiping his tears.

"So," Harry chuckles lightly, "that's my story. What's yours?"

You chuckle too, "There's nothing special about it, really. My parents just think that there's something wrong with me, but that's not true. At least I think it's not true." Harry just nods for you to continue.

"I'm the youngest in my family. I have three older siblings and they're all married now. My parents are obviously so happy. In fact, they're so happy that they forget about me...all the time. Every time we have this little family lunch or dinner, my parents always ask about how my siblings are doing and shit like that. I've tried, you know? I've tried to push myself to talk to them, but whenever I do, my parents dismiss me and they tell me they're busy or they tell me to shut up, because one of my siblings are talking and it'd be rude to interrupt. I got tired and I just didn't try anymore." you tell him.

"It sucks, man. I have no one to turn to when things get tough. I have no one to be excited for me whenever I have good news. I feel so alone. I only had three friends back in New York and to be honest with you, they weren't even near the level of becoming my best friends. Sure, we hung out and stuff, but I was always their last choice to hang out with. If everyone else is busy, they call me and my stupid ass would answer immediately. Thank god we moved here. New environment is good." you sigh. "I'm really glad I met you guys, though. Tom talks too much, but he's alright. I now have one best friend; how cool is that!"

Harry laughs lightly, "Well, now you have two."

You look at him and give him a small smile, "Are you sure? I'm no Kevin, but I'll try."

"I don't need a new Kevin. Just be you." Harry says, nudging you slightly. "It's nearly getting dark. Should we head back?"

"Sure." you smile. Both of you stood up and grabbed your things before leaving. From that moment on, something told you that you wouldn't be alone anymore and it felt great to finally have someone by your side.

* * * *

Feedback please?

Tagging my mutuals: @sweetdespairbarnes @myblueleatherbag @fanficparker @tommysparker @lcvelyparkers + @justasmisunderstoodasloki (bc this person is nice to me sksks)

Want to contact me? 

[coeurdastronaute]

Essays in Existentialism: Kiwi 10

previously on Kiwi

As grueling of a schedule as it was, there was a bit of normalcy to the routine of it all that was an almost welcomed addition to her life. Each day had an itinerary, had a designated time for everything, nearly down to bathroom breaks and time to think. The entire operation was efficient and orchestrated a year in advance. At a very very recent point in her life, Lexa didn’t like the sanctity of the routine and often balked under the weight of it, rejecting regularity for sleepless nights and people who broke her, and for too much manufactured joy that came at the end of a straw or bottom of a glass. Strung out and hung over, she performed without remember, and found herself missing the joy of it all, digging a deeper pit into her own body and soul that she could ever fill up. 

But she was finding a way to make up for it. 

It started with her sister, as most things seemed to always. It started with apologizing and promising and fixing a lot of things she once thought to be irreparable. And once that was mended and blossoming, Lexa watered different parts of herself, allowing a small bit of her own forgiveness and honesty to shine through. 

There was rehab and therapy, of course. And more apologizing and promising and setting realistic goals and avoiding stressors and things that would make her weak. But from that was a kind of strength, and people saw it, the improvement, the urge and need to be good, to be an artist. That was what saved Lexa’s life, at the end of the day, her overwhelming urge to create and interpret and give back something to the world. 

Tour was debated hotly for an entire month before it could be completely agreed upon between the bandmates, but in the end, it was the absolutely gruelling schedule that Anya decided truly was the best way for her to keep an eye on her sister. She couldn’t do drugs if she didn’t have time. 

And even though Lexa found herself missing someone, something she hadn’t originally planned on experiencing, she welcomed the road life with open arms, hitting meetings in every town almost, and talking to a girl on the other side of the country almost non-stop. When she wasn’t bugging Clarke, she was writing, practicing, working out, or performing, and in the end, those were almost the only things that truly mattered. 

Deftly, Lexa’s fingers moved along the frets of her favorite guitar as she lounged on the couch in her suite. She knew she was in Texas, but not entirely sure which city, and she didn’t mind. She had the sunset and she had a great view. In a month she’d be in Europe before festival rounds, and then back on the second half of her tour until the fall. There was a schedule. 

Without noticing her sister approaching, she hummed along to a melody she’d been stuck thinking about but not sure what to do with entirely. The album they were touring on was heartbreak and pain and partying. It was some of her favorite things because she loved seeing those who understood her and the words. But it scared her to write something different and new. And as many times as she promised an ode to Clarke’s ass, she was afraid to write something so loving. So she strummed along and already felt a different kind of grit sneak into her words. She sang a few lines and wrote in her notebook, pausing and reworking and thinking out loud. She recorded a few bars on her phone before putting it together somewhat. 

No one would say she was unprofessional when it came to her work. It was important that she got things out, and she came with a full idea, formed and ready to be put together, a concrete idea that she was always eager to capture. Her words got a little better and the process got a little easier when she was sober, something she feared at first, if she was being honest. She didn’t need the crutch. Her entire last album was a way to heal. 

“Sounds good,” Anya finally offered, pushing herself from the wall where she leaned. “Different,b ut good.” 

“I thought we discussed your lurking.” 

“I lurk out of love.” 

“Hm,” Lexa grunted, tossing her pencil down on the notebook. She kept working on the guitar though, trying to get it right. 

Anya took a seat on the coffee table her sister’s feet were propped up on, and she grabbed the notebook, carefully skimming through the words jotted there in a deceptively neat hand despite how quickly they were laid upon the page. 

“I like this a lot, actually. Powerful.” 

“I don’t want to wri--”

“I know, I know. The basics. Universal human emotion with killer guitar. Nothing personal, blah blah,” the drummer muttered, hunching over as she flipped a page and looked at another idea, waving away the inevitable diatribe she’d already heard. 

“I don’t want to write sad songs anymore,” Lexa shrugged. “At least… I don’t know. I can’t say never. I just-- singing these songs, it’s been heavy. I kind of want to bring back some fun. Remember our EP?” 

“A lifetime ago.” 

“Yeah, but like pure rock’n’roll right? Like gritty guitar, quick fucks, bad drinks, having fun. Dirty but something to sing along to.”

“Except you don’t do any of that.” 

“No, but I miss… Do you miss having fun up there?” 

“I always have fun,” Anya shook her head, pushing aside her mane of hair as it fell in her face. “I have fun playing with you.” 

“I do too, I just… Clarke said something-- before you complain,” she interjected as Anya began to roll her eyes, “She said that she could see me enjoy certain songs more, and a lot has to do with who they were about.” 

“You’re afraid to write about Clarke.” 

“No… yeah, I mean. No one tells you that when you write about people, you’re stuck with the song, even when they’re not around.” 

Lexa sulked slightly as she fiddled with her strings and looked away from her sister with the confession. 

“You like her a lot,” Anya observed after a few moments of quiet and flipping through the pages until she caught something she liked. 

“Yeah, obviously.” 

“Good. I like her too.” 

“I think I might invite her out again before we head to Europe.” 

“You should.” 

“Is this…” Lexa took a deep breath and stilled her movements, almost a complete statue as she tried to formulate the proper words. “Is this what it feels like to exist, like normal?” 

“Relatively, yeah, probably,” her sister snorted a laugh and smiled as Lexa’s face twisted slightly. “You’re so used to living at extremes, but what you don’t realize is that life is exceptionally average most of the time, and my favorite things are moments of beauty in the most mundane spaces. Aiden smiling at me when he pulls my hair and bites my chin because that’s how he kisses. You, holding him. You and me on stage when we are perfectly in sync and the world is right. The best bite of a piece of pizza. Watching you the past few months, come alive. Fighting with Luke about not having enough wipes in the diaper bag. There is nothing wrong with feeling those moments and realizing they’re enough.” 

Lexa grit her jaw and nodded, still unflinching and unwavering, afraid to move an inch because she was certain the dream would end, and perhaps this was one of those moments, because the sun was setting, and her sister looked beautiful and alive and not like she was ready to commit her, but like she actually enjoyed being her sister again. 

Anya didn’t mean to say as much, but she closed her mouth and looked down at Lexa’s notebook again. 

“Invite Clarke for a few days. Let her get a feel of your life here. She won’t break your heart.” 

“You’re psychic now?” 

“No, but I think she couldn’t hurt to offer you a muse, even if you don’t want that.” 

“I can’t write about her.” 

“I think you already are.” 

“Nah,” Lexa disagreed, back to plucking the strings haphazardly. 

With a victorious smile, Anya picked one she liked the most and read it a few more times, attempting to hear what her sister had beneath it all. 

“I like this one,” she finally offered, handing over the page, bookmarked and dogeared in a way she knew would piss of her sister. “Tell me how to hear it.” 

Lexa took her time, looking at the page and debating as her sister looked on expectantly. This would be the moment, she was certain, that they began the next album in earnest. That alone was a journey that made her wary, which was why she hadn’t approached her sister with anything finished yet. 

“Low and singular at first, up to the first bridge and then BAM you come in, hard and heavy, just a beat, a heartbeat. I want it to be a blast, a catharsis, an unleashing.” 

“Fitting,” Anya agreed and nodded as she read, dashing a note here and there, drawing lines to indicate the swelling. 

“See, I can write songs not about girls.” 

“You can, I just think you want to write about a girl. So just let yourself.”

“It’s hard, being away and stuff. Kind of a weird time to start a relationship.” 

“When have you ever done anything the easy way?” 

As much as she wanted to argue, Lexa stopped herself and agreed. It didn’t matter. She knew her sister was right, and maybe that was okay this time. 

XXXXXXXXXX

Even though it was nearing the end of her shift, the bar still felt full of people in a way that weighed on her. She was hoping to leave at a mildly reasonable hour to crawl into bed and get a reasonable amount of sleep for the first time in a long time. The universe didn’t seem aware of that plan as she tried to re-read the letter left in her letterbox the day before. 

“You going to grab that order at the end?” Raven interrupted her thoughts. 

“Why fucking not.”

Struck by her sour demeanor the entire night, Raven debated how to handle Clarke. There were different moods for her that required different responses. She wasn’t quite sure which kind of friend she had to be for the evening. 

Even though she couldn’t admit it yet, Raven saw that Clarke seemed oddly different after meeting Lexa Woods. She was driven and happy and doing more. She was content and afraid of the future, but for different reasons. 

“Are you being a little crabby because you miss your girlfriend?” Raven sang, clearly aware that she was annoying her friend. 

“She’s not my… well maybe-- no wait. That’s not why I’m-- And I’m not crabby,” a flustered bar tender shook her head, processing all of the words and how wrong they all were. 

“You miss her.” 

“How can I miss someone I never had?” 

“Oh, you have her,” Raven rolled her eyes and crossed her arms as she watched her friend huff and be annoyed at the common knowledge. “She’s flying you out again to see her, for a few days and two different cities of tour dates. You’re dating Lexa Woods.” 

“I think I would know if I was.” 

“I’m honestly not sure you’d know.” 

For the rest of the evening, they worked and waited until the bar cleared out and they could wrap up the hard part. Raven poured them both a drink when the door was finally locked and sat down across from her friend, unperturbed by the sticky bartop or the cleaning they were about to do. 

With a flick of her head, Clarke took the shot and hissed against the feeling of the painful liquid on her throat. 

“They’re tearing down my building,” Clarke sighed. “I’ve got a month.” 

“No wonder you’re in a snit,” Raven nodded. 

“And I haven’t gotten laid in a few weeks.” 

“Yeah, I can tell.” 

“It’s just… It’s just… It’s just... “ she sighed and shook her head before pausing to pour herself another drink and taking it back. “I think I’m getting ahead, right? Like if life is broke up into categories, love, money, job, happiness-- and I can’t get all of them to be okay at the same time. It’s exhausting.” 

As she spoke, Raven finished counting the cash and carefully handed over the split from the tips, handing a pile over to the barback that wiped down the tables while they stood there, veterans and exhausted by the night, no longer excited to keep drinking and stay up until about four. Clarke braced herself on the counter and stared at the empty shot glass, watching a droplet drip down the side slowly then all at once. 

“So what do you have together now?” 

“Hm?” 

“Out of those things, what is working for you now?” Raven asked. “I mean. You’re dating a rock star. You have a great internship and you are somewhat decent at it. You have to move and that’s it.” 

“It’s a pretty shitty thing. I can barely afford the shitbox I live in now, let alone another place.” 

“Come live with me.” 

“In your studio? No thanks. We’re close, but I don’t think we can be that close without killing each other.”

“Why don’t--”

“I’ll figure it out,” Clarke sighed. “I can’t think of solutions tonight.” 

“We can drink, if you want.” 

“Yes please.” 

“And,” her friend grinned, complete and utter mischief and nothing good at all as she dug behind the counter and pulled out a magazine. “We can read all about a sexy singer and a mysterious blonde she’s been seen with.” 

“Are you kidding me? Where did you get that!” 

Even though she moved as quickly as possible, Raven dodged Clarke’s advance, wiggling her eyebrows as she surveyed the pictures and laughed, enjoying her friend’s discomfort. Stretch as she might, Clarke couldn’t grab the offending image and she groaned, growing agitated in a way that her friend enjoyed. 

“I’ve just been saving this to enjoy when I had a free moment. Thinking about how much I could make by telling them who the cute blonde sucking on Lexa’s Woods’ neck is.” 

“I wasn’t-- They didn’t-- We weren’t--”

“Hmmm interesting,” Raven mused as she opened the magazine and Clarke got a glimpse of the front cover for the first time. 

Completely mortified, she blanched, the blood disappearing from her ears and face as she saw a grainy image of the two of them out to a lovely late dinner post-concert last time she visited. It was a good night and she thought they were alone. She also just really liked to kiss Lexa and she didn’t want to wait. 

“When aked about the new friend, the singer simply smiled coyly and said she was very happy,” the bartender read before flipping another page. “And my horoscope is trash.” 

“Give me that,” Clarke finally snatched the paper, flipping through the rag before coming face to face with herself. 

There was no way for anyone else to know it was her, at least not really, but Raven knew as she slipped her beer and started sorting the receipts. She knew and she knew the right thing to say most of the time, too. It only took a few moments of flipping for Clarke to toss the magazine back ont eh counter and shake her head before pouring another shot. 

“You’re going to be fine, Griffin,” Raven promised. “You’re ready to be happy.” 

“I don’t know how to be happy.” 

It wasn’t quiet in volume, but it was hones and quiet in its purpose. Clarke took the shot and slumped slightly under the weight of the honest and the feeling of maybe trying to believe how her friend’s suggestion could be real. 

“You do.” 

XXXXXXXXXX

Defeated by the rain and the past week, Clarke adjusted the bag that hung on her shoulder and leaned slightly against her large suitcase in the lobby the chic high rise. No one else was around save for the attendant at the desk who casually watched her without actually looking, keeping an eye on the happenings for very important people lived in his building, and he took his job very seriously. 

It was an act of utter failure and somewhat dependence that Clarke despised above all else. She never wanted to need anyone, and she never wanted to be a burden. When it came down to the fact that she needed help, she recognized a kind of guilt and shame that made her rile against herself, as if her own bones were bending and getting smaller. 

With an uncoordinated effort, she made her way to the elevator when it arrived in the lobby, and she tried not to think too much, instead looking forward to a good bath and a good sleep to get her head back on straight. 

She was going to make short business of needing someone’s help. She wasn’t keen on being given charity, and she certainly wasn’t ready to make Lexa feel like she was being used. That scared Clarke more than anything. 

As soon as Clarke stepped into Lexa’s empty place, she was afraid she’d gone into the wrong place because it was not actually empty, but rather warm and alive. The warm lights and candles glowed against the dark of the windows, while a sound of sizzling and the smell of garlic came from the kitchen. A record scratched in the corner. 

“Hey, I was wondering when you’d get in,” Lexa smiled and reached to grab the bottle of wine. “I was afraid you’d be later and it’d get cold.” 

The bags dropped. 

“What are you-- Wh-- How?” Clarke furrowed and shook her head. “You’re supposed to be in Philadelphia.” 

“I play there tomorrow. I thought you were a real fan.” 

She was putting the finishing touches on the small dinner prepared and plated on the dinging room table, but Lexa was every bit comfortable, as if she hadn’t been on tour for the past three months and not anywhere close to New York. 

“But what are you doing here, now?” 

“Came to welcome you to my place, well, your place, our place? No, your place.”

“It’s your place, Lex.” 

“Yeah, but it’s yours when I’m not here, so tonight it’s ours, I guess.” 

Happy and cozy, bare feet moving around and finally standing in front of her girlfriend, Lexa smiled and towered there in Clarke’s confusion. 

“Did you miss me?” Lexa grinned, and despite all of the feelings and the anger and the self-hatred, Clarke melted at it. 

“Why are you here?” Clarke shook her head, feeling bad still. “I didn’t--”

“I wanted to make you feel welcome. Nothing less welcome than a dark place, with no food. I wasn’t even sure I’d left the heat on to be honest, and it’s been cold the pas--”

Without meaning to do it, Clarke lurched forward and hugged her girlfriend tightly. She buried her face in her neck, making them both wobble slightly but leaving her undeterred. 

“I got you a key made,” Lexa whispered, surprised by the outburst. “I want you to be comfortable here. I like… I like the idea of you being in my bed.” 

“Even if you’re not here.” 

“I’ve never had someone to come home to.”

It was quiet and honest and even though dinner was on the table, and even though the record was done on its side and it stopped, creating a silence that prevailed the many tired thoughts that possessed both, they stood there. 

“You’ve been having a rough time. I know I can’t be physically here that much, I want to be around for you,” Lexa whispered. “I made you room in the closet.” 

“I won’t be here long.” 

“You can stay as long as you want. I mean it.” 

“It’s been a real shit month.” 

“Yeah, I know.” 

“Aren’t you tired? Weren’t you in DC last night?” 

“So you are a real fan.” 

Clarke laughed even though she didn’t want to. Lexa’s arms stayed around her as she pulled away and she sighed because she had no other alternative-- there were too many feelings and thoughts that left her frazzled and she needed to hide all of that to savor this moment, regardless of the fact that she’d lost her home and was desperately missing the girl that cooked for her. 

“Want to come to my show tomorrow?” Lexa asked. “You can come up with me for the night and we could have two consecutive days together.” 

“Two? Wow, you must like me.” 

“I don’t just let every Tinder hook up house sit for me.”

NEXT

[miss-tc-nova]

The Cat’s Meow - Jumin Han x Fem!Reader Pt 17-Finale

Okay, look, I know the first half of this is kind of...Anyway! Maybe not my best ending, but I giggled writing it so there. I promise that the bonus chapter coming out tomorrow will be better. 

Part 17: Thank You/Finale

                Grumbling, I flop into the chair and let my head fall onto the table. The chair beside me moves and, with a grumble, Saeran sits and lets his forehead meet the table as well.

                Things went a little crazy in the hospital following the incident with Rika. Out of it came Saeran, Luciel’s, or rather, Saeyoung’s brother who’d been manipulated by Rika. He’d caused havoc his first night at the hospital, but had come around to understand Luciel’s true intentions and Rika’s misdirection. He came to apologize to me the following day and we actually get along pretty well, taking on the suffering together in cynicism. We’re only a week in, with the doctor stating it may not even be the halfway mark.

                “You too, huh?” I mumble, feeling the deep-set ache in my muscles.

                “I considered cocaine today,” he groans. “But Saeyoung said I had to find it myself and I’m too tired for that shit.”

                I laugh a bit, turning my head to look at him. “Jumin’s making every employee remove all cigarettes and medications from the C&R building. I think he’s even put all his wine in storage.”

                Saeran lets his head fall to the side, giving me a suspicious look. “...None of that would work for our withdrawals.”

                “I know...”

                “Aww, look at our little druggies sulking together!” Saeyoung teases, sitting across from us. He’s also become a bit brighter since everyone’s been working to get him out of his secret agent job.

                “_____, are you okay? Do you need anything?” Jumin asks, resting a hand on my back.

                “Mmmeth.”

                Saeran starts snickering.

                Jumin replies in a warning tone, “_____.”

                Giggling, I push myself off the table. “I know. Meth is expensive.”

                “_____, get your facts straight. Cocaine is the expensive one,” Saeran says, earning a frown from Jumin.            

                “It’s not that price that’s the problem,” Jumin states.

                Still chuckling, I play with the end of his sleeve and look up at him. “I’m just kidding. I could really use a water though.”

                His stern expression softens and the heir leans in to kiss my forehead. “Very well.”

                We quietly watch him go before Saeyoung adds, “You know he’d probably find you meth if you were truly desperate for it.”

                “Noooo...Couple months ago, maybe. But definitely not now.”

                “But we have withdrawals now,” whines Saeran.

                Reaching out, I half-heartedly take his hand in comfort. “Be strong, Sae! We will overcome this!”

                He’s not impressed. “I hate you so fucking much right now.” Even he can’t keep a straight face through his insult.

                “I see non-druggie Sae likes to swear.”

                “He has no respect for my innocent ears!” Saeyoung complains.

                “You were watching porn last night!” shouts Saeran.

                Saeyoung points a finger at his brother. “It was holy porn.”

                “Holy porn, my ass!”

                By now, I’m lying on the table crying from laughing so hard. That’s when the rest of the group finally enters the room.

                “Hey guys!” Yoosung greets. “Oh wow, you guys look awful.”

                “Shut it, blondie,” I retort, sitting up and wiping my eyes. Jumin passes me a water bottle. “Thanks sweetheart.”

                “Hello Saeyoung, Saeran, _____,” V greets, Zen pushing him in a wheelchair. Not only was he still miraculously recovering from the gunshot, but also the eye surgery Jumin finally convinced him to have.

                Now the situation with V was much more strenuous than making friends with Saeran; I had killed the woman he loved. Honestly, the moment I could walk on my own and was allowed to see him, I fell to pieces, sobbing and begging for his forgiveness. The man assured me multiple times that it wasn’t my fault but I know it still hurts him. Still, even if I will always feel the guilt, he doesn’t outwardly hold it against me.

                He pushes a tray onto the table. “I brought treats for everyone.”

                Saeran apparently hasn’t had enough of our shenanigans. “Is it drugs?”

                Poor V is so confused. “I-...What?”

                “Sae! No one is going to bring you cocaine!” I exclaim, slamming a hand on the table.

                The room is silent for a minute before Saeran breaks, laughing. “I hate you so much.”

                I lean back heavily in my chair, staring at V. “But seriously, what’dyu bring?”

                “Uh, I brought cookies.”

                “Yay,” I whisper loudly.

                Saeran and I are the first to partake. Cravings and increased appetite are withdrawal symptoms; that combined with the fact that Saeran and I both naturally have a sweet tooth, we’re sugar monsters.

                Jaehee sits down, looking concerned. “Though you two do seem to be suffering from serious withdrawals. Are you going to be alright? Are you going to therapy or counseling or anything? I read somewhere that people suffering from withdrawals often relapse without secondary treatment.”

                “Dis is mah ferapy,” Sae replies through half a cookie.

                Saeyoung speaks up, “He’s meeting someone on Friday.”

                Jumin folds his arms. “And _____ has an appointment next week.”

                I huff. “I’m telling you, I don’t need a therapist. My addiction didn’t come from voluntary use so what’s a therapist gonna do? Tell me not to take any more drugs? That’s great ‘cause Sae won’t make me any anyway!” I glare when my boyfriend takes my cookie away.

                “Don’t look at me,” Saeran growls. “I wasn’t part of the group that made the elixir. The bathtub would be full if I knew how to make it. We’d probably just poison ourselves trying to replicate the stuff.”

                I grumble, “So, much to our dismay, Saeran and I will not be relapsing.” I reach for another cookie. “We are, however, scouting new substances to abuseTHAT’S MY COOKIE!” I snap at Jumin, who’s taken the fourth from me.

                “Substance of choice? Sugar,” hums Saeyoung.

                “You’re going to that appointment. And you’ll just complain later if you keep eating all these sweets,” Jumin replies, not bothered at all.

                Grumbling, I fold my arms. “I’m complaining now.”

                “Also, it’s polite to share and Saeran has already taken the extras.” He passes off the cookie to Yoosung while pointing out the pile Sae is hoarding. The former-cultist pulls his stash closer to his seat when he catches me staring. We glare.

                “Dammit.”

                V clears his throat. “Alright, sugar and withdrawals aside, I’d like to begin the first official meeting of…of…Did we ever decide on a new name?”

                “We did not,” Jaehee replies.

                “Oh, well then I guess that’s the agenda of our first meeting. Would anyone like to make any suggestions?”

                Jumin raises his hand. “Jumin Han, we are not naming the new organization after me,” I growl. He puts his hand down before raising it again. “Or either of the cats.” Hand goes down.

                From there, the brainstorming goes on and on until it comes down to Sunrise Charity, mostly because V didn’t want it to be called VFA, which is fair enough. After discussing some dates for the inaugural charity party, we end the meeting there and Jumin takes me home, and I mean my home.

                “Mako, I’m home!” I sing. The fold comes padding out to greet us with his chirping. Jumin kneels down to scratch behind his ears. “That took longer than I thought it would. I should start working on dinner.”

                “I could have something ordered,” offers Jumin.

                “No. I’m a big girl. I can cook for myself.” I eye him for a minute. “Can you even make anything edible?”

                He thinks for a moment. “Pancakes.”

                I gasp, hanging against him with my arm around his neck. “You should make me pancakes in the morning.”

                An embrace that brings comfort engulfs me. “Is that what you want?”

                “Yes. Also, maybe…” Supporting myself, I trace the pattern on his tie. “You could spend the night?”

                I’ll admit it, since the incident, being alone has been a bit distressing. I’ve gotten over a lot of my withdrawal symptoms while recovering in the hospital, but there are a few that still plague me. My first night home, I woke up in a sweat my first night home and didn’t go back to sleep. Jumin made a point of staying on the phone with me until I fell asleep after that.

                “Do you think we’re ready for that?” He’s concerned.

                I scrunch my nose at him. “Afraid you won’t be able to resist me in my sloppy pajamas and bed-head?”

                “Yes.”

                My shoulders droop. “Wow. Okay. Maybe we aren’t ready for that.”

                Jumin’s forehead rests against mine. “If it’s what you want, I’ll spend the night. It might be tough, but I’ll practice my restraint.”

                I sigh. “I don’t want to push it.”

                “Perhaps we should. How will we ever get anywhere if we don’t try?” He chuckles. “Besides, even if I do end up pushing it too far, you’ll just threaten me with a knife.”

                I hide my face in his chest. “You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?”

                “You threatened the life of a high-profile corporate heir.” A gentle hand beneath my chin encourages me to look up. ���I promise; I’ll keep myself under control. Do you still want me to stay?”

                “Please?”

                I receive a kiss to my brow. “Very well. But first I need to run to the office to sign some documents and stop by my home for some things.”

                “Okay. I’ll have dinner ready when you get back.”

                With a kiss goodbye, Jumin heads out and I change into sweats and a t-shirt before I prepare food. Before long, he returns with a small bag.

                “How was the office?” I ask, stirring the pasta.

                “It was fine. Just needed a signature so we can begin analysis on the coffee chain tomorrow.”

                “Ew…”

                “Yes. Ew.”

                I giggle. “Well dinner’s almost done. You should go change.”

                He glances at the suit he didn’t change out of. “You want me to change?”

                “Yes! Look at this!” I pick up a magazine from ages ago that had a page of Jumin lounging in the sun in a t-shirt with a blue over shirt. “I know you own normal clothes and I demand you wear them more!”

                A corner of his mouth quirks. “Demand, huh?”

                “Yes! Especially if you’re going to be lazy with me!”

                Apparently, I amuse him. “I see.”

                “And I swear to god, if your pajamas are some ridiculous matched set they wear in comedy family movies, I’m going to have to seriously reconsider this relationship!”

                A hand feebly covers up the laugh he’s trying to contain. “So…*ahem* So I should probably go then?”

                “Are you serious?! What are you, twelve?!”

                “I sincerely hope not or you’re at serious risk of going to prison for romancing a minor.” I glare. “Also, can we discuss why you have a magazine from last year with that page dog-eared?”

                I turn back to the stove in an attempt to hide my blush. “Shut up and go get ready for dinner.”

                Sure of his victory, Jumin ambles away. With two bowls in hand, I get comfortable in the living room when in walks that man in a gray t-shirt and sweats. The bit of water in my mouth goes right back out.

                “Where did you get those?!” I shout, temperature rising.

                His smirk signals that he’s still playing with me. “I’ve had these for a while now.”

                “And yet you lounge around in slacks and a dress shirt?” I retort, picking up my bowl. “I’m going to corrupt you with my laziness.”

                “We’ll see.”

                Throughout dinner, I can’t help my wandering gaze every time I let up the reins on my brain; I begin zoning out and my eyes immediately drift to Jumin. Not only am I very much addicted to how he looks being casual for once, but the fact he’s here to spend time with me as my boyfriend is a nice thought.

                “Are you okay?” he’s caught me.

                “Uh, yeah. I’m fine.”

                His brows furrow. “Are your hands numb again?”

                The question draws my attention to my hands that I’ve been flexing mindlessly, trying to work through the pins and needles. This is part of my recovery, part of the withdrawal. “Yeah, but it’ll pass.”

                Jumin takes a hand and beings gently massaging my palm with his thumbs. He’s been doing things like this since I woke up. The nausea was terrible the first few days and he was there to endure it with me. The lights and volume were turned down when they became too much. He even fed me a few times when my hands would shake so much I couldn’t do it myself. I hate it but at the same time, I’m so thankful to have someone here looking after me.

                “How’s that?” he asks.

                I test my movement. Most of the foreign sensation is gone. “A lot better. Thanks.” Jumin suddenly pulls me against him and leans against me until I collapse onto the sofa. “What are you doing?”

                Jumin hovers over me, grazing his nose against mine. “I wanted to cuddle with my girlfriend.”I’m positive he can feel the heat radiating from my face. “Am I making you uncomfortable?” his deep voice rumbles.

                “No,” I say softly.

                “Good.” The man wedges his hands beneath me before relaxing on top of me, his head resting against my chest. Once he’s comfortable, he gives a very satisfied, content sigh. Adjusting to my cuddly partner, I settle in to watch the movie while running my fingers through his soft hair. It doesn’t take long for me to hear a deep, steady breathing. Seeing this man, whose entire wardrobe consists ninety percent of suits, who’s known for living high class, who’s always been the ever-vigilant business man; seeing him here in my tiny home, in a t-shirt, and fast asleep upsets the butterflies in my stomach.

                The movie ends and I have to come to terms with the fact that I need to use the bathroom and that requires disturbing Jumin. I savor the sight for just a moment longer before attempting to wake him.

                “Jumin. Sweetheart, get up.”Groaning, he tightens his grip. “Jumin, stop! I need to pee!”

                Flinching, the man props himself up. “What? What’s wrong?” he grumbles.

                “I need to use the bathroom, but maybe you should go to bed if you’re so tired.”

                Jumin sits up, rubbing at his eyes. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

                I slip off the sofa and reach out to brush some hair from his eyes. “It’s fine. It is getting late though; you should go to bed.”

                The man stands up too. “Only if you join me.”

                Rolling my eyes, I let a smile pull at my lips. “Alright. Let me shut everything down. Go on; go get ready for bed.”

                Once the bathroom problem is solved, I shut down the movie and clean up a bit. Ambling into the bedroom, I find my boyfriend sitting on the bed, providing Mako with enough ear scritches to get the motor running. Interrupting the bonding, I sneak my way onto Jumin’s lap, wrapping my arms around his neck and planting a kiss on his cheek. The response is a soft, reverent kiss in return that puts me under his spell almost immediately. For a while, I bask in the comfort of Jumin’s presence and the love he emits. My muscles ache, my head is full of dull pain, sometimes pins and needles overtake my hands, and sometimes I can’t sleep, but right here I get complete solace.

                Jumin groans and breaks the kiss. “You’re tempting me, love,” he says lowly, and I can see the lust alight in his eyes.

                “Says the man who made it much easier for me to strip him down,” I hum, slipping a hand beneath the hem of his shirt against his abs. I immediately notice the pink bleed across his face and the passion flare up. I nearly tear his shirt trying to rip my hand out. “No! Wait! I take it back!”

                He sighs, pinching at the bridge of his nose. “How cruel you are.”

                “Eheh, sorry. We should go to sleep now.”

                I flip the lights and sneak under the covers with Jumin. An arm snakes around my waist, pulling me flush against him. With a bit of a giggle, I hook a leg over his waist and latch onto him. The musky sweet scent accompanied by the warmth of his presence quickly envelopes me and I feel like I could just melt.

                It’s been only a couple years since I met Jumin Han, and my life since then has been everything except perfect, but all the seems so far away now. The tears, fears, worries, none of that matters now. I have the love of my life in my arms; we struggled and suffered so much to get here, but we can finally be happy. I can finally give him everything without getting in my own way. The relief is so overwhelming I could cry, but instead I just revel in the peace.

                On the exhale, I hum.

                “What’s wrong?” he asks.

                “Nothing. I’m just…happy,” I reply, resting my forehead against his chest. “Thank you for staying. And thank you for taking care of me.”

                His arms tighten briefly. “I already told you, I would do anything for you,” he murmurs into my hair.

                “I love you.”

                “I love you too.”

[harley-sunday]

10 Things I Hate About You [02]

Summary: Based on the RomCom ‘10 Things I Hate About You’ we follow the reader as she tries to win over Bucky Barnes so his best friend can finally go on a date.Entry for @arrowsandmixtapes​ RomCom Challenge

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader (f) & Steve Rogers x Maria Hill

Warnings: Language

Word Count: 2.5k

AN: This was a fun chapter to write, hope it’s a fun chapter to read as well. Please let me know what you think :) ♥

Masterlist

You find the gym empty, which is weird for this time of day, but honestly right now it suits you just fine. You have twenty minutes before Barnes will join you for your training session and you want to get this out of your system before then. No need for him to see you like this. Although you're sure he already knows. Privacy is hard to come by here.

Setting up the target, you don’t bother replacing the Iron Man outline he must have used the last time he was here, because this time you might share whatever it is Barnes has against him. You grab the bag of knives you brought from the supply room before you make your way to the other end of the room and dump them on the floor unceremoniously by tipping the bag over. You take as many as you can hold into your hand and clear your mind, focusing on what you're about to do. There’s at least twenty feet between you and the target now, and while it takes you a few throws to get into the right rhythm, after a short while you’re hitting it throw after throw, more knives finding their way into the bull’s eye than during last week’s session. 

You’d like to say it’s because you’ve been practicing, or simply because you’ve found out you’re a natural, but the truth of the matter is that you’re pissed off and anger has always been a good motivator for you.  

Barnes comes in early and so you’re still working through your anger when he joins you, your throws becoming more and more frantic, and a sheen of sweat covering your body. Must be quite the sight, you think, but at least he’s smart enough not to comment on it. The last knife finds its way a little off center as it flies towards the target, and like his did last week, it hits the handle of one of the knives already there before it bounces off and lands on the ground.

Using your shirt you wipe some of the sweat off your face and set out to collect your knives so you can start your training session, when suddenly you feel his hand on your arm, holding you in place. 

“You ok?” 

You let your eyes fall to his hand before you look up at him. People have told you you tend to look like you’re about to hurt someone on average but you guess you really must be shooting daggers now, because he actually lets go of you and takes a step back. 

His hands go up in defense, but he actually looks worried, “That bad, huh?”

Some of your anger resolves then, because fuck, this is Barnes, the guy’s lived through enough to not have to bear the brunt of your anger, and so you shake your head, “Not really.” Then, as an afterthought, “Don’t worry about it, Barnes.”

“Bucky,”

“What?”

“Barnes is reserved for when I’m at work,” he grins, “just call me Bucky.” 

You’re about to tell him, “Ok,” but there’s a group of recruits coming in then, talking loudly until they spot you, their voices quieting down almost instantly, and so you keep quiet too. You throw them what you hope is a look that tells them to mind their own fucking business. You have a reputation to uphold after all. 

He just stares at them from over your shoulder, shaking his head before he looks back at you. “Come on,” he says then, motioning for you to follow him as he walks towards the target and collects the knives, dropping the bag off at the locker room door, muttering something about getting that later. 

As you throw one last look over your shoulder you see Nat coming in, who winks at you before she tells the recruits to stop glaring and get into position. You smile back at her before you follow him to one of the side doors that leads directly outside. The sunlight has you blinking as you try to adjust your eyes, the warmth of the afternoon sun a welcome change from the cold temperature in the gym. 

He turns around and asks you the same question again, “You ok?”

You nod this time, because you feel a bit better already, “Getting there.” 

He motions for you to sit down on the grass and when you do he joins you, sitting down so he’s facing you, pulling his knees up and letting his wrists rest on top of them, his hands playing with a dandelion he picked just moments earlier. He looks at you then, “Does this have anything to do with Steve having to join you on your next mission?”

“Babysitting me, you mean?” 

He chuckles, “Yeah.” 

Part of you doesn’t want to talk about it any more than that, because this moping around feels safe and at least no one bothers you when you’re in one of your ‘moods’, as Nat likes to call them. Bucky seems genuinely worried about you though and so you start, “Tony and I have this deal,” you look up at him and see him nod, taking this as your cue to continue, “technically I’m part of the team, but I only do solo missions.”

“Because of Padua, right?”

“Right,” you reply. He must have heard what happened, and if he hasn’t he doesn’t ask about it so you don’t bother to explain any further. “Then this morning I get assigned a new mission only to find out in the briefing room that Tony wants Steve to fucking chaperone me!” You scoff, “Gave me some bullshit excuse about quality control, that they want to know if I’m still carrying out my missions to the set standard.” You curse quietly. 

“Why?” Bucky seems as surprised as you are.

You sigh. “Last week I was on a mission to extract some files that supposedly link HYDRA to funding the 2016 presidential campaign,” you clear your throat, “I used explosives to draw my target out of his hiding place but apparently Tony thinks I blew up a civilian car just for shits and giggles, allowing my target to escape and causing substantial damage to a few public buildings while I was at it.”

“I know I made a mistake, ok? It’s not like I’ll do it again next time.” You sit up, “but now I don’t get to go on any solo missions until I prove my worth again.” You tut, “Fuck. Don’t get me wrong, I like really Steve, but I don’t need someone tagging along, watching my every move and then tell me what to do when I’ve been going at it alone for the last few years.”  

“Welcome to my world,” Bucky counters almost immediately and in such a deadpan manner you can’t help but laugh.  

“I’m working on it, Maria, ok?” you tell her before she even has a chance to say anything. She’s found you in the kitchen where you’re unloading the dishwasher rather aggressively because it’s your fucking turn today and God forbid you forget to do one of your chores around here. Thor, surprisingly, has already lectured you about the importance of taking your responsibilities seriously twice before, and that was just because you forgot to clean the lint out of the dryer after you used it, and you’re not sure you can make it through a third time without losing your damn mind. 

She holds her hands up in defense, “Not what I was going to ask, but sure.”

“Sorry,” you try to smile at her, “rough day.” 

“I know,” she replies. She leans against the counter, “I was just coming to see how you’re doing.” 

She and Steve were in the briefing room with you when Tony told you about his plan and so she got to witness firsthand how you react when you feel betrayed by the two men you trust most. Tony likened it to a tantrum unprecedented by anything a two-year old has ever thrown. Steve never said anything but looked genuinely scared of you. So to say you’re surprised Maria’s even talking to you now is an understatement.

“I’m ok,” you admit, “my training session with Bucky turned into somewhat of a therapy session, so I got most of my anger out.”

She doesn’t say anything, just smiles.

“What?”

“Nothing,” she shakes her head and starts to walk away. Then she turns around, a mischievous grin playing on her lips, “But I guess Steve’s not the only one who gets to call him Bucky anymore.”

The mission was supposed to be simple. Fly in, gain access to the main server of the facility without making too many casualties, extract the files needed, and be back before dinner. On your own it would probably take around four hours on site and so you figured now that you’re with Steve you could get the job done in just under two. You might be wrong. 

“Rogers?” you try again, pressing the comms unit into your ear a little more, “Rogers, report.” Nothing but static fills the air and you’re starting to get worried. He’s been silent for at least five minutes, and even though you agreed to split up so you could cover more ground faster, right now you wish you hadn’t. You decide to retract to your last shared location, but not before you try again, “Rogers, I have what we came for. Can you please report?”

Still nothing. 

You let out a frustrated groan. Protocol says you should go back to the Quinjet, call for backup, and then wait it out until they arrive. Of course, you think to yourself, Captain fucking America could be dead by then but at least you’ll have followed protocol. Tony would be so proud. You check your gun, confirming what you already knew, still fifteen rounds left and so you make a quick decision, muttering a quiet, “Fuck protocol.” before you set off to where you last saw Steve.

“Language.” 

“I’ll let Tony know you’re perfectly capable of going out on your own,” Steve says as he turns to you after he’s put the Quinjet on autopilot.

“Thank you,” you reply. There's venom dripping through your voice and even though it really isn’t aimed at him you can see Steve physically recoil. Great. Now you’ve upset Captain America. This might be worse than getting him killed. 

Besides Nat, Steve is the one you’re closest too, not in the least because he’s the one who convinced you to join all those years ago on his first ever recruitment mission. And while Nat was the one who got him up to speed with modern technology after he got defrosted, you were the one who supplied him with endless lists. Lists of what movies to watch, which albums to listen to, and books you thought he’d like to read. Then, for every year he missed you made a recap, collecting them all in a binder that you handed him on his first birthday after he came out of the ice. 

And while Nat always bears the brunt of your moods in stride, up until now you’ve always been careful not to be too bad-tempered around Steve. It’s hard to pinpoint why, but you guess it’s because he’s so sweet-natured that you’d feel embarrassed if he’d ever did see you lose it, even though he did get a taste of it in the conference room earlier this week, you remind yourself. Woo, boy. Not good.

“Sorry about that,” you say, your voice much softer now. 

“It’s ok,” he says, because of course he does. 

“It’s just-” you sigh. You don’t want to sound like a whiny brat, but it still upsets you you’re being supervised, “I don’t know. It feels like Tony has it out for me for some reason.” 

“Listen, don’t be too hard on Tony, ok?” Steve turns towards you with an apologetic smile. “Ross has been watching our every move for a while now, accusing us that we’re taking unnecessary risks and Tony just doesn’t want to take any chances.”

“Noted,” you reply with nod. You lean back in your chair, watching Steve out of the corner of your eye. He really is one of the good guys, you think, determined then to do whatever you can to make sure Maria can ask him out on a date. They both deserve some happiness, you decide. 

You don’t see Bucky until next Monday, the mission you went on with Steve having interfered with your Thursday session. By now you’ve moved on to actual hand-to-hand combat after you passed some sort of knife-throwing exam he had you go through at the start of the afternoon. 

“Alright,” he says as he gathers his hair and ties it into a loose bun at the base of his neck. “We’ll run through it together. Half-speed, ok?”

“Ok.” You resume your position, back towards him so he can attack you from behind after he’s explained exactly what you’re supposed to do to actually block his attack this time. Taking deep breaths to prepare you for the inevitable even though you know what’s coming he still surprises you when he suddenly grabs you. 

Remembering what he’s told you, you grab a hold of the hand that’s holding your neck, while at the same time you turn around, mimicking a punch with your other hand, before your almost kick him in the goods. 

“Good,” he says with a grin. “We’re going to try that again, but full-speed and no holding back this time, ok?”

“You sure?” you counter with a sly smile, eyeing the loose sweatpants he’s wearing. 

“Very,”

You shrug, “Alright, let’s do it.”

He has you walking from one end of the gym to the other, so the attack will even be more of a surprise and you’re almost at the halfway point when you feel his hand on your neck. His grip is tighter than it was before, letting you know you’re playing for keeps now. 

You repeat the motions you’ve come to memorize, actually punching him this time, but hesitate when you lift your foot up to kick him. 

He takes advantage of your momentary distraction and hooks his leg behind yours, taking you down in one swift move. You’re on your back before you know it, his arm across your chest to hold you in place. There’s a gleam in his eye when he says, “Should have gone for the goods, sweetheart.” 

“Speaking about goods,” you say with a wink, letting your eyes drop to where his arm is draped across your chest before you look back up at him again, “you just skipped first base and went straight to second, Barnes. I’d say you owe me a drink for that.” 

“Oh shit,” he mutters, quickly pushing himself off. His cheeks are slightly more red when he holds out his hand to you to help you to your feet. “I’m sorry-”

“It’s ok,” you reassure him, because you can tell he’s genuinely upset. He still doesn’t look convinced so you try again, “Really, Bucky, don’t worry about it.”

He smiles then before he gently pushes you towards the locker room, “Let me at least buy you that drink some time then.”