#happy birthday to the boy who has always given every inch of himself again and again and again

[autisticlancemcclain]

happy birthday to the boy with the biggest bleeding heart in the universe. keith kogane i love you

[reinerispretty]

rotations. (zuko x f!reader) pt21

hello and welcome back! i hope you are having a very good day :)

pt1

pt20

pt22

It was a rainy day at the palace when Mai had interrupted (Y/N’s) meeting with the newer war generals. They were young, but had moved up in the Fire Nation army rather quickly and were more open to change than their older counterparts. (Y/N) paused her speech to stare at me. “Oh, hello,” She said. 

“What happened?” Zuko demanded as they sat with the doctor. The poor man was wearing a nightcap and gown, but whatever the Fire Lord needed, he got. (Y/N) was very appreciative of the old man who was currently stitching up the cut on her arm and she gave him a smile before turning to Zuko and narrowing her eyes. 

“What do you mean, ‘What happened?’ I couldn’t exactly ask the details while I was fighting for my life!” Zuko opened his mouth to speak, then shut it and turned his head away from her. (Y/N) sighed. “I’m sorry, I’m still on edge. They didn’t tell me who they were or what they wanted. They just said that they were sent to punish me for crimes against the Fire Nation.” 

“What crimes?” Zuko asked. (Y/N) shrugged, wincing as the doctor stitched into her skin. 

“None that I can think of, unless trying to right your country’s wrongs is considered a crime.” 

“That has to be it. The people who are still loyal to my father...they must have sent someone after you.” Zuko turned to the guards standing watch at the door. “I want guards permanently placed outside of her rooms at all times. I want every inch of this palace watched.” 

“Yes sir,” One of the guards said, bowing and then leaving to go inform the others. 

“It’s not me they should be protecting,” (Y/N) said. “They’ll start coming for you next.” 

And (Y/N) was right, as she tended to be. Over the course of the next year, as she and Zuko tried their hardest to bring peace back into the world and make up for the hundred years of war their nation had caused, five attempts on both of their lives had been made. (Y/N) tried her best to remain strong, but she feared going to sleep at night, not knowing if she would wake up the next morning. 

Zuko’s seventeenth birthday came and went. Their friends could not pull away from their work of helping those who had been affected by the war and Uncle Iroh’s tea shop was taking off, leaving him little time to do much else. They all still sent Zuko gifts to show how much they cared, but she wasn’t sure if that was enough. (Y/N) had proposed the idea of a birthday dinner for Zuko, but he dismissed the idea with a wave of his hand. “We’re far too busy to worry about my birthday this year,” he had said as he signed scrolls at his desk. “I might just go to Mai’s house and have a small dinner with her.” 

“If that’s what you want,” (Y/N) said with a smile, but it really felt like a punch to the gut. The last birthday she had spent with Zuko was his thirteenth. It was so many years ago that she was looking forward to doing something special with him. But she supposed she couldn’t blame him for wanting to spend his birthday with his girlfriend. (Y/N) was the one who distanced herself from him, after all. Still, she gave him the best birthday present she could come up with: a portrait of him and his mother. It had sat in the catacombs of the palace, untouched for years. Ozai had probably ordered it thrown out after Ursa’s banishment. She left it in front of his bedroom while he was out with Mai. 

(Y/N) expected her sixteenth birthday to go somewhat similarly. She was pleasantly surprised to wake up that morning to find that her friends had sent her birthday gifts from areas they had traveled. Sokka sent her a whale-bone comb from the water tribe. Aang and Katara sent her a lovely portrait of her and her friends, complete with big smiles and goofy faces. Toph had sent a letter (with Katara’s help) stating that when they reunited, she’d buy her a birthday gift that (Y/N) picked out, since Toph was blind. (Y/N) giggled as she read that. From Iroh, she received dried tea leaves that made “the best tea in all of Ba Sing Se!” as his letter said. 

Each of her gifts made her smile widely, but Zuko’s gifts had surprised her the most. A warm fruit tart was left outside of her door, along with a servant informing her that she had the day off to do what she liked and that all the costs would be covered by the Fire Lord. Then, she and Zuko would have a private dinner that night. (Y/N) thought it was a pretty sweet gift from the busiest person in the entire Fire Nation. 

Her day had gone great. She bought all of the things she had had her eye on in the market for a while, and even bought the servants and guards who accompanied her a few things that she had noticed them looking at. The royal family was beyond beyond wealthy, so (Y/N) thought a few hundred gold pieces spent on the people who made their lives easier was a manageable expense. 

When she returned to the palace, she readied herself for dinner and joined Zuko in the dining room. A feast had been prepared for the two of them, complete with all of their favorite things they used to eat as children. (Y/N) and Zuko dug into the meal, leaving little time for conversation, but they enjoyed each other’s company just the same. For the first time in a while, (Y/N) felt like she was just spending time with her old friend again. 

That was, until a guard came in and whispered into Zuko’s ear. He looked at (Y/N) apologetically. “Fire Lord stuff, I have to go. I’m so sorry, (Y/N), it’s very urgent.” 

“Oh,” She said, swallowing her noodles. “Do you need me to come?” 

“No, no, I gave you the day off. Enjoy it.” He walked to her seat and bent down, wrapping his arms around her shoulders. “Happy birthday, (Y/N).” 

“Thanks,” she mumbled, before watching him be led away by the guards. (Y/N) had known for her entire life that Zuko would become Fire Lord, yet there was nothing she could do to prepare herself for it. She ate the rest of her birthday dinner alone, and then retired to bed at an early hour. 

---

The sixth assassination attempt was the final straw for Zuko. He kept the assassin prisoner and interrogated them for information. This interrogation led him out of the Fire Nation and to the Earth Kingdom colony of Yu Dao. All of his decisions were made in a split second, including the one where he left (Y/N) in charge of the entire Fire Nation. 

“You can’t possibly be serious,” One of his other advisors said, “Leaving this girl in charge of your country while you are gone.” 

“This girl helped save the entire world from destruction, so I suggest you start listening to her. Besides, as soon as I walk out these doors, she might choose to fire you, and I’d absolutely back her up, no questions asks.” Zuko raised his eyebrow at the advisor, who immediately kept his words to himself. 

(Y/N) approached Zuko and tugged on his robes. “If I’m interim Fire Lord, do I get to wear the thing?” 

“The thing?” Zuko asked. She put her hand behind her topknot and waved her fingers around like a flame. “You mean the Fire Lord crown?” Zuko laughed heartily for the first time in a while. “Yeah, you can wear the Fire Lord crown.” 

“Yes!” (Y/N) said quietly to herself. It wasn’t so much that she wanted the power of being temporary Fire Lord, but she had always thought the crown looked really cool. 

Zuko took the crown from his own topknot and placed it in hers. “There. Don’t go burning the city down.” (Y/N) scoffed. 

“That runs in your family, not mine.” She walked away with her head held high, already giving her fellow advisors briefings about what decisions she and Zuko had come up with for the nation. Zuko watched as the old men begrudgingly listened to the young girl’s orders before departing to the Earth Kingdom. 

Zuko made some very questionable decisions while he was away. He had sent a messenger hawk to (Y/N) informing her that the Fire Nation was now pulling out of the Harmony Restoration Movement. He had learned that some of the families within the colonies where blended mixtures of fire and earthbenders. He explained to her how he didn’t feel right separating families or making people leave their homes, so that was why he no longer wanted to back the movement. (Y/N) was nervous about this decision, because everyone else in the world was for the movement, but Zuko had essentially given an order. He was the Fire Lord and he was trying to do what was best for his nation. She had to remind that little voice in the back of her head that Zuko was not Ozai. He was not the person he was before. So, she informed the advisors of the order and planned for the repercussions accordingly. 

It was a rainy day at the palace when Mai had interrupted (Y/N’s) meeting with the newer war generals. They were young, but had moved up in the Fire Nation army rather quickly and were more open to change than their older counterparts. (Y/N) paused her speech to stare at her. “Oh, hello,” She said. 

“Could I speak to you for a moment?” Mai asked. (Y/N) nodded and left the table, promising that she would return shortly. She and Mai stepped outside the room. 

“What’s up?” She asked. 

“I’ve been worried about you and Zuko.” 

“Me and Zuko? Why?” 

“Because of all the assassination attempts?” (Y/N) nodded. 

“Right, those. Forgot about those.” 

“Listen, I asked Ty Lee if she and the Kyoshi Warriors would mind keeping an eye on the place, since the guards obviously aren’t doing great. I wanted to double check that it was okay with you.” 

That honestly surprised (Y/N). She had never had anything against Mai, except that she had tried to kill her on multiple occasions (but at this point, very few of her friends hadn’t) and was dating the boy she loved. They had grown up together but she had never really considered themselves to be friends; moreso acquaintances who had a lot of mutual friends. So, the fact that Mai was asking for her permission to bring in the Kyoshi Warriors because she was worried about her meant a lot. 

“That’s completely fine by me,” (Y/N) said with a smile. “Thanks for thinking of it.” 

Mai shrugged. “Both you and Zuko are way too busy to have to worry about keeping yourselves alive.” She leaned in close to (Y/N). “By the way, I’m pretty sure all of those boys in there are completely in love with you.” 

(Y/N) laughed. “Makes my job of getting them to do what I want easier.” Mai gave her a small, very Mai-like smile before walking away. (Y/N) wondered if maybe Mai was soft on the inside like she was. 

---

Tag List!

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[phantom-curve]

45 from the prompt list please for juke, happy Birthday to you!!!

Thank you! I clearly have not tortured these two enough so please enjoy this angsty Juke whump that ultimately has a happy ending because what other type of ending is there?! Set in a post-canon AU where Julie brings the boys back to life.

#45: feeling their temperature

Julie had been learning a lot about how to deal with various phantom related issues in the last few months. She had learned that the boys needed constant touch and reassurance that they were somehow solid to her, mostly in the form of Luke pulling her into a hug at the end of practice or Reggie throwing himself on top of her while she was sprawled out on the couch doing homework or Alex’s fingers just gently running across the back of her shoulders or the skin of her elbow when she would walk past him at any given time. She had learned that Luke missed meatball subs more than anything, and that Reggie was still sad that that one pizza place on the pier had shut down, and Alex secretly wished he could eat cheese one last time despite the way it had always made him sick when he was alive. She had learned that in the aftermath of their literal magical hug the boys had started getting tired enough to occasionally sleep again and sometimes they didn’t quite phase through things the way they used to and for some reason their poofing had become a touch unreliable.

She was trying to roll with it as much as she could, which was actually a lot given she’d kinda just been rolling with it ever since they appeared in her mom’s studio and turned her life upside down in the best way. But something she hadn’t planned for was illness.

It didn’t make sense, after all. They were ghosts. There was no reason they should get sick, especially given the fact that they weren’t, ya know, real physical entities unless she was touching them. So, it didn’t make sense that they were able to get fevers or sore throats or be congested. She hadn’t planned for it, had written it off as a definite impossibility. Until Reggie half-poofed into her bedroom, flickering in and out slightly so she only caught every other word.

“Julie! ...quick...Luke...not...good...need...help...please!”

And she went immediately, racing down the steps and out the back door to the studio before Reggie had a chance to appear in her bedroom again.

The boys looked absolutely exhausted as she crashed into the studio, Reggie collapsed in one of the chairs breathing heavily and Alex pacing so fast she was sure he was going to wear a groove into the concrete floor. Luke was stretched out along the couch, his face red and sweaty, and he was the only one that looked unhappy at her arrival.

“Julie, thank God,” Alex breathed out, his steps slowing ever so slightly as he made eye contact. “Luke is...sick? Do ghosts get sick? Is that possible? I tried to poof up to you but...it wouldn’t work. Why wouldn’t it work? Reggie said he kept flickering? Did you understand him, or did he just disappear? Oh God, why doesn’t the afterlife come with rule books!?!”

Reggie, bless him, tried to fill in some of the gaps.

“I dunno how much I was actually able to say up there, but something is wrong with Luke. We’re pretty sure he’s sick.”

“Am not!” Luke tried to yell from his spot on the couch, but he barely managed to get the two words out before he was doubled over gasping for air. As if any of them were actually breathing.

“He’s been like this all day.”

It didn’t take a genius or supernatural expert to see that Luke was not his normal bouncy self. Julie approached him slowly, not wanting to make things worse but desperate to affirm for herself that he was still here with her and would be okay at the end of whatever this was. Obviously, none of them actually knew if he would be, but at least if she was touching him, she would have the physical reassurance of his presence. She lowered herself next to his head, resting on her knees beside the couch. He turned glassy eyes her way, groaning and twisting over on his side so he was as curled into her space as he could be while still on the couch.

“Luke...?”

She tried desperately to keep the fear from her voice. The last thing the boys needed was for her to lose it, but she wasn’t sure she managed it. Losing the boys, losing Luke, was her number one fear since she had realized how much they all meant to her. It was a fear that had become even more real when she had watched them be nearly jolted from existence thanks to Caleb, her touch somehow being the one thing that had managed to save them. As if spurred on by that memory, she reached out to let one hand trail across Luke’s forehead and down to rest against his cheek. His skin was like fire beneath her touch.

“You’re burning up. Have you been hot like this all day?”

One side of his mouth tipped up, a half-hearted smirk curving his lips.

“I’m always hot, Jules. Didn’t think you’d ever notice.”

It took everything in her not to roll her eyes. But then Luke gasped and coughed, the sound deep and throaty in a way she hadn’t experienced since the time Carlos got pneumonia when he was little. She fluttered her fingers above him, not sure where her touch would be helpful or comforting. Luke reached up to snag her hands within his own, pulling them close against his chest. Julie tried not to focus on the way his skin seemed to be boiling beneath her.

“That cough doesn’t sound good. Have you taken anything? Ibuprofen, Tylenol, ice cold water??”

She was grasping at straws here. Whatever was going on with Luke was completely out of her wheelhouse, but she would be damned if she let some weak human virus or bacterial infection be his downfall. She had saved him from a goddamn demon’s curse, she could save him from this.

“No, Julie, I’m fine. I swear.”

His promise was cut off by another hacking cough. Julie tried to pull her hands back, if only so that she could use them for something other than just grasping onto Luke’s, but his grip held firm.

“Luke,” she tried again, pushing the tears she felt clogging her throat back, “you’re not fine. Please, I just...I need...there has to be something I can do.”

Their eyes met and held. She watched the way the emotions swimming in the sea of Luke’s gaze shifted and changed. Felt it deep within her soul when he decided to give up the façade and let her in.

“I don’t...it doesn’t feel right, Jules. It’s not like I’m sick, not like...”

Not like when he was human. The words hung unspoken between them. Julie felt her heart dive straight into her toes.

“Can we just...can you just...hold me?”

Luke’s voice came out in broken starts and stops, like the request was being dragged from his bones in a last-ditch attempt at satisfying a final craving before the very end. Julie thought her heart might explode, especially when her eyes searched his face and found nothing but longing and love etched into the pained lines there. It hit her then. He didn’t think this was something survivable. He didn’t think he was going to come back from this. Luke was facing the end, the actual end, and he wanted her at his side and in his arms when he went to meet his maker. The very idea ripped her soul in two.

“No, no, no. No, Luke, no. This isn’t...you’re not...no. You don’t get to do this to me. Not now. Not after...no.”

Julie felt the tears well up and spill over, wet tracks inching down her cheeks in the worst kind of betrayal. Not after everything she had done to save him. Not after she realized she loved him. It wasn’t fair. Luke didn’t get to just leave her like this. She wouldn’t allow it. Luke’s own eyes flooded, the two of them so in tune that when she blinked again her tears traced down her face in the same pattern that his did.

“Julie...please...”

He was pulling on her then, using their conjoined hands and his superior upper body strength to drag her up and onto the couch. Julie did her best to wedge herself into the space beside him, but Luke was having none of that, dropping her hands so he could twist his fingertips into her belt loops and haul her body on top of his. It was the kind of intimate cuddling she had been dreaming about for months, even before she had been able to touch him. Her head was tucked securely beneath his chin, cheek resting above the space his heart had once occupied. His arms were locked around her waist, hands solid and reassuring against the small of her back. She let her hands slip past the worn cotton of his cut-up band tee to rest against his ribs, the tears flowing fast and hot from her eyes to soak the material beneath her head.

She wasn’t sure Luke would even notice the difference. His temperature had to be sky high, every inch of his body where it pressed against hers engulfed in flames. Without realizing it, she began to hum the chorus to Edge of Great. She had been using it recently as a way to hype herself up when she started doubting something, the song never failing to remind her of Luke’s unbreakable belief in her. She felt it when Luke smiled, his head leaning down to rest against her own, voice blending with hers in a perfect harmony.

“We were pretty great, huh?” Luke’s voice was hushed as his lips moved across her scalp. “The band...the boys...us. We went right over the edge together, didn’t we? We’re just one dream, away from who we’re meant to be.”

Julie lost the melody as her quiet cries shifted to sobs. This couldn’t be it. They hadn’t even achieved half of the things they were meant to. Luke’s hum picked up where hers had dropped off, shifting slowly into the bridge of Finally Free.

“You’ll always be a part of me. Now ‘til eternity.”

Luke’s words were quiet and soft, melodic, as if he was still following the lines of the song in his head. There was a kind of peace to them that Julie hadn’t heard before, not since that awful night where he had stood before her and said there was no music without her. Not since the last time he thought she was going to have to watch him die. Not since the last time he had tried to say goodbye.

She couldn’t let him go like this. She had to fight, somehow, some way, to keep him where he belonged, right here next to her. She didn’t know what was happening, didn’t know how to fix it, but she could give him this. She could tell him how much he meant to her. She could hope that it would maybe be enough. Just like last time.

“Luke...I can’t...I’m not...” Her chest constricted, cutting off her words. God, how did it already hurt so much? “I’m not ready to lose you. I can’t lose you. I love you.”

Luke convulsed slightly underneath her, the movement moving from the tip of his head all the way down to his toes. Julie hugged him close, terrified. She wasn’t sure if that type of reaction was a good thing or a bad thing, and she wasn’t fully ready to find out. Beneath her, Luke’s body began to rapidly cool. That had to be a bad sign, right? A fever like that wouldn’t just suddenly break, not unless...not unless...Julie couldn’t even make herself think it. She pulled herself tighter against Luke’s chest, leveraged every inch she could get against him as her hands flexed against his back. A strange noise sounded from deep within his chest.

“Luke? Please, Luke, no. Please don’t leave me.”

Julie clutched herself as close as possible, the feeling of Luke’s arms slackening on her back twisting her stomach. Her sobs were borderline uncontrollable now, breaths coming in painful gasps as she pushed her face deeper and deeper into the fabric of Luke’s shirt. I love you, I love you, I love you. Her mouth formed the words over and over again until she felt them stitch themselves into the lining of her soul.

The noise sounded again, louder this time, directly underneath the spot where her cheek rested against his left pectoral muscle. And then she heard it again, and again, and again, slowly repeating until it picked up a slight rhythm. Slow at first and then explosively fast all the sudden. It sounded...like a heartbeat.

“Luke, oh my God, Luke, please, please, oh my God, please.”

Julie had no idea what she was even pleading for. A sign, a glimmer of hope to hold on to, another miracle that would save the boy she loved and bring him back to her, fully this time. It was too much to ask for, right? Too much to put faith into. The sound, the heartbeat, within Luke’s chest began to echo even louder. Julie forced herself to be brave. Forced herself to lift her head and look at Luke’s face. She told herself she could handle it. She told herself she had to do it.

Luke’s eyes were open above her. He looked just as bewildered as she felt, but his eyes were open and she could see his nostrils flaring as he sucked in a breath, and she felt the lungs in his chest expand beneath her and he was alive. He had to be alive, right? That was the only explanation here.

“Julie...?”

“Are you...?”

“I feel...”

“Alive.”

They said it at the same time, voices blending together the same way they did on stage, perfectly matched as if the universe itself had made it so. Julie pressed one hand against his cheek, his normal temperature cheek, and the other against his chest, directly above his heart. She felt the steady thump of muscle against her palm, felt Luke’s lips stretch into the widest grin she had ever seen. His own arms tightened around her waist again, forcing her to collapse against him as he squeezed. His heartbeat, his heartbeat!, roared strong and steady beneath her. His lips were in her hair, the only part of him that was still hot, moving against her curls in a way she didn’t have to hear to understand. I love you, I love you, I love you. Tying them together, heart to heart, the knowledge of that truth undeniable and overwhelming. He was alive. He was alive. Luke was alive, at her side, alive alive alive.

“Hey guys?”

Reggie’s voice, strained and aching. Julie had forgotten about the other boys completely. She turned her head, new tears overflowing when she caught sight of them. They looked like Luke had when she entered the studio. But instead of feeling scared, an immense wave of relief crashed over her. She could do this. She loved them. She could bring them back. Julie disentangled herself from Luke, crossing the room to pull the other boys close. Luke followed, his arms encompassing hers, Reggie and Alex safe within a never-ending circle of love. They burned hot and quick, fevers rising and crashing in a wave faster than Luke’s, heartbeats returning just as swiftly. They all cried, limbs overlapping in a heap on the floor. And when Julie met Luke’s eyes above the backs of the other boys, a moment passed between them. A moment that promised a lifetime together, every day beginning and ending with love and them.

“Now that we’re alive again, can we please get something to eat?”

Luke pulled Reggie into a noogie, but Julie just laughed, her heart soaring high as she thought about the endless future stretched out in front of them. A lifetime of forevers, starting that very day.

[moonlightjinko-kun]

Best Gift (Happy Bday Atsushi 2021!)

This is for my cinnamonroll who’s a beaming ray of sunshine, hehe ily atsushi

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Genre: Fluff

Pairing: Atsukyou // Atsushi x Kyouka

Words: 960+

Summary: After a long day of work and a birthday party thrown by the ADA members, Atsushi and Kyouka finally get to spend some alone time to celebrate Atsushi's (first) birthday as a couple.

Read it on AO3!

A/N 1:  HAPPY BIRTHDAY ATSUSHI! I LOVE YOU SO MUCH! THIS IS THE HAPPINESS YOU DESERVE HEHE another year another bday fic :) since I had written about the Agency throwing him a party last year, I thought it'd be fun to do atsukyou celebrating atsushi's first birthday together this year!

5 May, 8:07pm

“Finally home!” Atsushi sinks into the sofa,letting out a contented sigh. He hears his girlfriend busying herself in the kitchen, the clinks and occasional thuds the only sounds in the apartment.

“Kyouka-chan?” He calls softly. The noise stops momentarily and he hears her soft “yeah”.

“Can you come here first?”

“Mm, one minute.”

Atsushi pushes himself off the sofa. Kyouka’s soft humming fills the little space between them, pulling him toward her, a note by a note. He reaches her and in a swift and gentle motion, wraps his arms around her waist. So close to the nape of her neck, he inhales the sweet floral scent that she always wears - the perfume that he had given her for Valentine’s Day. He feels her relaxing into his embrace, and the bento boxes she has been washing slip to the bottom of the sink.

“I’ll do it for you later. Take off the gloves and come with me.”

Kyouka lets out a small chuckle and turns her head slightly to look at him. “I can’t make the birthday boy do this. I’ll come over soon, just be patient.”

At her words, Atsushi rests his head on her shoulder. “Please?” He turns his puppy eyes on her, hoping she would soften and give in.

Kyouka purses her lip, insistent. With a small “hmm”, he releases his hold around her and slips his hand into the gloves. He entwines his fingers with hers, a cheeky grin on his face.  Atsushi turns his puppy eyes on her again and finally, after a few minutes, she relents. Her rosy pink lips part in a sweet smile and taking her hint, he slips his right hand out to pull off the gloves.

With her fingers out of the gloves, she wove his fingers into his. A grin tugs the corner of his lips at the gentle squeeze of her hands, as she leads him to the sofa. He follows after her, his eyes following the sway of her hips as she waltzes through the room on the balls of her feet. A laugh bubbles out of her as their eyes meet, before he hurriedly turns away with a blush creeping up his face.

Atsushi feels her tender touch on his face, and her hands move ever so gently to turn his face back to her. She has pulled herself close to him; the silence and grace that she moves with always catching him off guard. Standing on tiptoes, her lips are just inches away from his.

There is a subtle tease to the way Kyouka’s lips move, the breath that comes from her a brush on his cheeks, painting them a rosy pink.

Did she drink too much at the birthday party just now? I thought she only had a bit...

His face crumpled into a confused expression at the wide grin on her face.

“Kyouka-chan?”

“Mm-hmm?”

“You’re … are you okay?”

Kyouka nods before narrowing her eyes at him. “Why?”

“Nothing.” Huh, okay.

Kyouka holds her stare for another moment before turning away. He follows after her, letting her lead him back to the sofa. The slight tugs from her pulls him to move faster and closer to her.

Atsushi sits next to her and pulls her close to him, leaving his arm loose around her waist. She rests her head against his chest, her eyes half-closed. Her fingers curl around his, the warmth of her hand radiating into him.

“I wish we had both taken the time off today.” Atsushi blurts out.

A giggle escapes her. “Me too.” She replies, in between giggles. “At least we have four hours together now.”

Atsushi lets out a small sigh. How’s that enough?

“You sound like a whiny child.” Her hands are on his cheeks, pushing his cheeks into a pout. “Maybe that’s why your birthday is on Children’s Day.” She teases.

He blinks, before realising that he’s voiced out his own thoughts. He gives her a sheepish grin and averts his gaze.

When he was a child, he used to hate his birthday. He hated the fact that he was born on Children’s Day and he’d thought it was the biggest irony in his life. That he was the loneliest child on Children’s Day, all chained up in the basement, spending the day wishing he was never born. But now, looking at how Kyouka is patting him, her face aglow with love and affection, he finds himself loving his birthday and wanting to spend every single birthday with her.

“What are you thinking about, Atsushi?” Kyouka asks, her eyes alight with curiosity.

“Mm, you.”

Kyouka tilts her head, a puzzled expression on her face.

“Kyouka-chan, can you make me a promise?”

Shs nods.

“Can you… promise… to always spend my birthday with me?”

With the words out of him, he realises how selfish he sounds. Yet, he still longs to hear her say “yes”. Moments later, she raises her pinky with a gentle smile on her face. Atsushi hooks his pinky around hers and bends his thumb to reach hers.

“There, Atsushi. No matter how busy or tired I am, we’ll always celebrate your birthday together.” She leans in and gently presses her lips to his. A blush brightens her cheeks. She quickly lets go of his pinky and nestles her head into the hollow of his chest.

Atsushi’s heart drums to a faster beat in his chest. He wraps his arm tight around her waist and laces his fingers through hers.

“Thank you,” he whispers into her ear. Thank you for the best gift ever.

With his free arm, he lifts her chin and kisses her tenderly on the lips.

“Happy birthday, Atsushi,” she mouths, her voice a soft whisper against his lips.

A/N 2:  As always, thank you for reading to the end and I hope you’d enjoyed this super short bday fic! I didn't have much time to do a super detailed/complex fic this year, since work has been busy, but this has been a very fun piece to write! >< Comments, reblogs and any form of feedback are always appreciated, thank you!

[palbabor-writes]

can I have a shoto todoroki x reader where the reader is giving him the silent treatment for some reason (he hurt her feelings on accident or forgot something important, like a date or something, whatever you come up with (: ) and he’s freaking out about it wondering what he did wrong? tysm 😌

hello, hello! apologies for making you wait so long, but at long last, here is poor Shōto, trying his best to work his way through this unfortunate predicament he’s landed himself in. 

warnings: none, rated o for oblivious 

You’d been a little quiet lately. 

But, on the whole, that wasn’t too unusual. Everyone needs time to themselves, Shōto knows that and he respects the lull in your texts, the absence of your afternoon phone calls. You’re a busy side-kick and he’s got his own hectic rotations of hero work to shuffle through, too. 

Sure, he tells himself, trying to resist peering at his phone for the millionth time, you’re just busy or you’re feeling overwhelmed. He gets that. 

He doesn’t want to pester you, so he lets the radio silence linger, even though it’s starting to make him feel a little on edge. The two of you have been dating since he graduated from UA. And, what does that make it now, a little over a year? Yeah, that sounds about right. He really likes you, enough to bring you over to meet his sister and his older brother. You’d made a great impression on them and Fuyumi kept asking him when he was going to introduce you to their father. 

Soon, he lied, ducking from her bright smile. 

It’s not that he thinks you’d mesh poorly with his father, no, you’d be wonderful, like you always are, he’s just not wanting to go to the trouble. Not with him. 

Deep down he knows it’s just because he doesn’t want to make Endeavor think he’s giving him a fucking inch. He couldn’t care less what his old man thought about you. Besides, it’s not like he doesn’t know about the two of you. He’s a pro hero, he’s got connections everywhere. So, no. Shōto doesn’t want to introduce you to his father. Endeavor knows you exist and he knows his youngest son his dating you. Yeah, that’s more than enough acknowledgement to go around, and it’s more than Endeavor deserves. 

Shōto knows he has your support and affection and, for now, that’s all the approval he needs. It’s all he’s ever needed, really.  

Things have been going so well, but he can’t shake that ominous feeling that keeps creeping over him. 

It’s like there’s something he’s missed. His troubled mood doesn’t fit with the beauty of the spring that’s broken over Japan. No, it’s too gloomy, too dark without you by his side. He can remember the day he’d given you his number and asked you out. It had been under this sprawling cherry tree and you’d looked so happy. It made him ache a little bit, to see you like that. Crazy it’s already been a year, time really does fly when you’re with someone you like.  

Wait. 

He forgot to clock out. Eh, he can just send a message to one of the other sidekicks at his father’s agency. They know he can be a bit forgetful, so they’ll understand. 

Now, let’s see if you’ll answer a text. He’s famished. He’s worked another 12 hour shift and put in some extra training, so he’s praying you’ll get back to him before he has to resort to going to a soba stand. Not that he’d mind getting some cold soba, but food always seems to taste better when he can share it with you. 

After he sends you that text, he paces around one of the local parks, talking with a few locals and signing some autographs. Even though he’s making waves of his own now, his biggest claim to fame is being Endeavor’s son. He tries to not let the annoyance of his birthright bother him, but it does get frustrating when that’s the main comment he hears. 

His phone vibrates and he excuses himself from a conversation with an older pro he’d run into, tugging his phone from his back pocket. It’s a text and it’s from you.

Shōto swipes across the screen and smiles at your answer. You had some time and you’d love to get some food. Perfect.

The restaurant he’d picked is quiet and tucked away from the main streets, but they had some killer courses, so he’s hoping you’ll like it. He’s already sitting at a back booth when you arrive. You give him a quiet smile and step toward him, a small gift bag in your hand. Huh, that’s odd, he thinks, scooting over so you can slip in beside him. 

The two of you chat for a bit, going over your day and letting him softly retell a recent capture he’d done a few days before. He can’t believe he hasn’t had a chance to tell you yet. The time you two have spent apart has been long, too long, if he’s honest and he doesn’t like that he let it drag on. Anyway, it was one of his first successful solo missions and he’s so pleased by the proud grin you gift him. He likes to make you smile and he would love to see another one, but something still seems to be bothering you. 

“You ok?” Shōto asks, his eyes tracing over the contours of your face, looking for some kinda clue.

“Sure,” you reply, but your voice still has that little hiccup, that shading of irritation. 

“Do you not like the food? Or, did something else happen today? I know it’s been awhile since we’ve had a chance to get some dinner together, or to talk much, but my schedule should change next month, so that’ll give us some extra time.” He’s grasping at straws, at anything, but that arched brow of yours makes him prattle on, his uncertainty mounting. 

“Um, are you worried about that team up? You mentioned it a few weeks ago, but I haven’t had a chance to look into that agency. At least, not that way I want to. No? Er, Fuyumi said she might reach out to you again. She asked if you had anything planned. She didn’t want to, um, give it away when we were talking. Whatever it is. I didn’t know what she meant, but I figured the two of you-”

“You really don’t remember, huh?”

Your voice has dropped the edge and you’re shaking your head, lowering your chopsticks and fixing him with a pointed stare.

“Remember? Remember what?” Shōto questions, tilting his head so the snowy side of his hair trails against his shoulder. Was there something you’d told him to do? He can’t recall anything. You’d said something about celebrating, a few days ago, before all the communication had broken down, but he wasn’t sure if you were meaning celebrating something with him, or if there was an event at your agency. You’d been there for a year. He knew they’d gotten you a cake. What...

You’re still looking at him and he ducks his head, fiddling with his food, trying to rack his overworked brain for some kinda clue. Ok. It’s springtime. That means it’s not your birthday, not yet. It’s not his birthday, that passed in January. So what...

His eyes land on that bag you’d carried in. It’s a nice green color and the tissue paper is white and crisp. Does someone else have a birthday? 

“Oh my God,” you say, a laugh bursting from your lips. “Shōto, really? I mean, I guess I should be happy you just forgot. Honestly, I was thinking you didn’t want to acknowledge it, or something. I know it’s just been a year, but it kinda hurt my feelings when you didn’t even mention it. You’d taken me to meet your siblings and then you’d mentioned me in that interview, so I was thinking that you were going to plan something for it. But I guess...God, Shōto, has it really not clicked yet?”

You don’t sound angry, a little disappointed maybe, but he’s glad he’s not upset you too badly. He needs to slow down and think. It’s springtime and you’re here with him, talking about milestones in your relationship and you have a gift and...

Oh.

“It’s our anniversary. Well, it was. I missed it,” he says, ducking his head and clenching his fingers into his palms. Damn it, damn it, damn it. How could he forget that? All day, hell, all week, he’s been thinking about you, about how you’d met. How could he be so dense?

“Awe,” you smile, leaning toward him and giving him a peck on the cheek, “there it is. God, you’re lucky I like you so much. I still can’t believe it took you this--”

Shōto doesn’t let you finish that thought, lifting your lips up to his and kissing you until you can’t breathe, trying to pour all of his apologies and embarrassment into the caress. He could have lost you, he thinks, sucking on your lower lip and slotting you against him, not caring who sees the two of you. He’s never, ever going to make this mistake again. No, he’s going to engrave that date on every surface until all he can think about is you and him. 

Notes: He’s such a goober and I love how dense that boy is. Honestly, it’s not his fault, since he was kinda raised under an Endeavor shaped boulder and I adore his awkwardness. I could see him totally doing something like this, too.      

Anywoo, sorry this took so, so long ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ

[hanawrites404]

Wynne’s Birthday Diary - Lunie Laurenze

"I really hope they make it here on time. But the chances seem to be so thin of them even arriving considering our relationship is...... convoluted" I sighed, placing the cookies inside. I was really regretting why did I even plan this for her. And why am I stressing out so much because of it. All of this was fucking frustrating and tiring to me.

"Chillax, Winnie. Lunie will definitely come. Her sister promised me that" The brown haired man propped his legs on the table in front of him and relaxingly leaned behind the couch.

I sighed, turning to the laid-back person with crossed arms. "Lunie can force her mind onto Ink very easily. Sad thing is that even after you literally bribed Ink with shiny sparkling feathers to bring her sister here, who knows if she would succeed" I coolly replied.

"You.....You saw that?!!" Nathan (@utopia-t) stiffened, and there was a pink tint on his umber cheeks.

"Yes I did. Very disgusting of you to greed a child like that" I teased him, a smirk on my lips. Nathan turned even more pink by my mockery, but then he scrunched his nose and growled and slammed his fist on my poor couch.

"Hey! First of all, I am older than you. I know what is right and what is wrong more than you. And two, bribing is not wrong. It's just like business. You just get extra good stuff out of them just like that. And Ink surely deserves some spoiling" he defended himself.

I chuckled and went over him to sit beside him, patting his shoulder. "Relax, Dear. Of course there is nothing wrong in spoiling kids over good jobs done. Just don't make it so frequent. You would then owe them a lot that you won't be able to even repay".

"Ugh jeez Wynne. Of course I know my limits. I practically raised two kids by myself, come on!!" He threw his hands while I rolled my eyes.

"Right right. And also let one of them almost choke in the quicksand" I smirked at him even more, and just like I expected, Nathan turned even more pink and speechless. I then started laughing heartily and wipe the tears of joy from the corner of my eyes.

"Stop, Damnit. Stop teasing me" he snarled. He has his fist balled up again and I could see his veins pulsating in his arm. Though it was far from scaring me, I obliged to his request.

"There there, calm your nerves down. We don't want you smashing my lovely table on someone's birthday, you know" With a wide threatening smile I rubbed his shoulders.

"Tch whatever, Woman" he punched my shoulder lightly, earning a laugh from me. Salette was really lucky to have a brother whom you can tease 24/7 but won't lift a finger on you. The only difference is that I on the other side was in a bit danger, but that's alright. It's not that I am scared of his mindless threats. Also I heard that he likes to charm women?? Hmmm....how am I not surprised haha!!

"Ugh you should be lucky that you are cute. Otherwise I would not have hesitated to destroy your fancy expensive house" Nathan huffed. I raised my eyebrow, glancing at him as he rested his head on the couch and behind his arms.

"Pardon me. Cute???" I asked from minor bewilderment.

"Ummm yeah. That's what I said" he replied.

I stayed silent, still not opening my mouth. Nathan clearly noticed it as he clicked his tongue, annoyed.

"Oh come on. You heard me nicely. You have clear ears" he elaborated. But still that didn't solve my problem.

Nathan then being the stubborn impatient kind grabbed my shoulders and pulled me closer to him. My hands landed on his chest with a thud and my eyes jerked up, a gasp escaped my lips.

"So you don't believe me huh, Blueberry?" His crimson eyes looked directly into mine. Oh no.........

"E-Excuse me?? But what do I have to believe??" The confusion was still on my face. But then it all got sorted when he lifted my chin up, our noses touching and our lips just inches away.

"Want me to tell you?" His whisper, huskily reached my ears. This just made me even more nervous than before.

I gulped, adjusting my position, but he was holding onto me by my waist now. He had a stern grip. It seemed impossible to withdraw.

Nathan closed up to me, our lips were almost going to meet. I wasn't ready for it, but didn't hesitate to close my eyes as well and brace for the kiss. The tension was hot, it was hitting my skin and arousing goosebumps on me. Nathan looked like it wasn't affecting him, because of how he still had his hold on me and his hands weren't shaking like mine.

I was not scared, I was rather bubbling from anticipation of what would Nathan do, but my expectations were destroyed when we were interrupted by the tingling classic London chime.

Of the doorbell.

"Oh fucking goddamnit!!" Nathan cursed, letting go of me and slumping back on the couch. While I just blinked twice, trying to get my system back, and then got up to walk to the door.

"Excuse me Dear" I simply sighed. Poor Nathan. I actually felt bad for him. I promise to compensate his disappointment later.

But nonetheless, I opened the door, and being half-surprised to look at the visitor, I greeted both of them.

"Well Good Evening Ink, Lunie" I said. Lunie (@boiling-potato), as usual, dismissed my salutation and looked away with a 'hmph', but her sister on the other hand, happily returned the hello.

"Good Evening Wynne! It's really good to see you. And you are looking really nice today ^w^" said said. This lit up a smile, as I let both of them com inside my house.

"Why thank you Dear. It's lovely to hear from you too" I grinned back, closing the door. Hmmm....it was kind of warm outside. Maybe due to spring change.

"So....why are we here again??" Lunie crossed her arms and looked around. She sounded as if she was forced to arrive here. Nothing out of unusual at all, actually.

"We are here to celebrate your birthday, Lunie! Wynne and Nathan organised it for you ÒwÓ" Ink replied. Lunie was unamused, as she just sat on one of the couches and kept her head on her hand, disinterested.

"Whatever" she said. I didn't even care actually, because I had already given up and tired. Jeez, edgy kids these days.

But suddenly Nathan appeared behind her and placed his hands on her shoulders. He had a bright smile on his face.

"Hey come on now. It's your birthday! Birthdays are nice! You get to party, have fun with friends, get drunk and might even find a nice boy to-"

Before he could even say anything further, I slapped his mouth shut. Seriously this man bitch doesn't even know how to talk to children sometimes. Ugh Stupid Human.

"And do what?? What do we do with a nice boy OwO?" The ravenette asked. Oh shit, here we go again. Come on Wynne, think of something.

"W-We just greet him a good night, that's all haha!" I smiled at her, but on the inside was boiling from pique.

"Oh! Ok! ^w^" Ink thankfully didn't question it further and settled down. I then let Nathan go, glaring at him for a second, before I went to the kitchen to get the cake. I knew Lunie didn't want to stay here much because of how much we both pissed each other, so I wanted this to get over with quick.

Meanwhile I kept hearing Nathan talking with both Lunie and Ink. He kept entertaining them with chats and jokes, and was doing surprisingly well. That was good. Looks like it was a nice idea to bring him over. Otherwise it would have been pretty awkward if I was by myself.

"What's a cat's favourite colour??"

"What? -_-"

"Ooooooh what OwO??"

"Purr-ple!!"

"ರ_ರ"

"HAHAHAHAHAHHAA nice one, Nathan (≧▽≦)"

Hah......dorks...................

Soon the cake was brought on the table, and the birthday girl was settled right in front of the spongy dessert. The cake had the flavour of chocolate cookies and sugary cream, and it was adorned with dark chocolate musical notes. The cake was white and dark brown, and it had seventeen blue candles on it.

"........The cake looks good" For the first time I heard Lunie saying one positive thing for the whole day. It brightened my mood quite a lot, and so with Nathan. Since we both were the ones who made the cake, and our star for tonight was satisfied. And nothing else could have fulfilled us more.

"We are glad you liked it" I replied. "Thanks Lunie! I hope you would love how it tastes too!!" Nathan beamed. Ink was amazed by the cake, her eyes were literally sparkling. It was adorable to watch. Lunie just nodded to us, as she closed her eyes next, ready to make her wish.

"Let's get this over with" and then she blew the candles.

Happy birthday to you~

Happy birthday to you~

Happy birthday Dear Lunie~

Happy birthday to you 💙💙💙💙💙~

The cake was cut, and was shared. We all enjoyed the dessert. It was pleasantly sweet, not too sugary and not too bland. It was perfect with the soft cream and cookie crunch.

Ink was the happiest one among us all. No surprise again. She loved the cake and the other food me and Nathan had prepared. And she had a lot of fun during games and the present time.

And speaking about presents, Nathan gifted Lunie a recipe book of making different types of desserts. So that she could be self-reliant and learn how to bake what she loves. I actually knew the book, because my father used to have it. Obviously he never followed it, and even if he did, something always went wrong. Lunie seemed pleased though, and that's all that mattered.

At last it was my turn to gift her. And for my part I had given her a navy blue oversized shirt with white musical notes. Come on. Fashion is how I roll, and considering Lunie loved baggy clothing, I had to create one for her with every love I can put into it. And to be candid, I had much delectation with weaving every fibre of it, and truly hoped that she would love to wear it once.

Lunie might be unnecessarily audacious, however she was still relatable to me because she somewhat felt like myself. Those broody eyes, that lethargic expression, the introverted testy approach, reminded me of me. All I had to say was, Lunie is like my sister too. No matter how much we hated each other's guts.

But the most surprising thing for today was how Lunie actually enjoyed the occasion. She said that it wasn't too loud or crowded, and it was rather diverting and a nice distraction from annoyance. This was of course a compliment, even though Nathan didn't look really satisfied by it haha!

But I had fun. And so did the others. The rest of the night went well, with all of us chilling and talking about the early days and future nights. At the very present. All of it together.

[clean-bands-dirty-stories]

The Best Things ~ J.V. (Part 10)

A/n: What, thought I was done with this series. HA NO!! I still have a playlist for this shit and it fuels me. Just, slowly.

Word Count: 5000+

PLAYLIST

Masterlist

"Parents will never admit to this, but they always have a favorite." Jerome looked at Jeremiah as he lounged on his chair. "Right, brother?" Harley felt eyes on him so he looked over, only to look directly in Bruce's eyes. There was something there that spoke to Harley what both boys knew- this wasn't about Bruce. The younger boy seemed to be trying to reason or apologize without words, but Harley just looked away. It was far too late for that bullshit. "The one who cleans their room. Does their homework." Every word was a twist of a knife Harley didn't realize was buried in his chest. He was maybe the one who understood Jerome the most. Maybe that's why they'd gotten this far with each other. "Who doesn't try to kill everybody." Harley smiled. "Little Mr. Perfect here? Yeah. He was that guy. He was adopted by rich folks. Went to the top schools, then a top college." Harley suddenly felt angry. Angry at Jerome's family. At everyone in Jerome's past, in fact. Especially at Jeremiah Valeska. And you know what... at Bruce Wayne too. "Meanwhile, I got dragged through the circus by my depressed, alcoholic mother. Forced to clean up elephant dung every day."

"Who cares?" Someone in the crowd shouted. People began to speak up in agreement.

Harley stepped forward. "Don't interrupt the man!" He hefted his bat and the crowd suddenly went silent.

Jerome looked pleased, but his smile died quickly as he returned to his little rant. Harley moved behind him, running his free hand through Jerome's hair every once in a while. "Do you know how big those things are?" He was completely calm, but in a sort of empty way as his eyes searched out people in the crowd. Harley recognized the plea. For understanding. For pity. For anything. Someone to get him and not judge him and tell him that he was right to be doing what he was doing. Everyone's disapproval didn't stop him, but he yearned for someone to love him and it was so very clear to Harley now more than ever that it upset him. Why were people always so cruel? "But I know something mommy and daddy," Jerome continued. "They never knew. You’re as crazy as I am." Jerome dropped the mic, standing. "It's in your DNA." He turned to Jeremiah, Harley right next to him, still brandishing his bat as he watched Jerome's back. "See, we got the same blood running through us. We are practically identical. You are a killer." He had a knife and he moved close to Jeremiah, obviously trying to put him on edge. "It's in your nature. Stop trying to fight it." He cut Jeremiah's ties and there was a pause. "Take your best shot."

"What?" Harley demanded, turning around. He found his body stiff with panic. Hard to move and respond with. Jeremiah was holding the knife Jerome had been a few seconds before. He went to step forward to stop this, but Jerome held up a hand. Harley looked at Jerome with rage. "Jerome-" Jerome shushed him.

Perhaps the man still could take Harley by surprise.

Jeremiah looked at his brother, his features slowly twisting with more and more anger until he screamed, trying to tackle Jerome to the ground but failing. Jerome giggled as he kicked Jeremiah and Harley frowned. He stepped away, irritated that Jerome hadn't at least cued him in on this part of the plan. At least given him a head's up or something... As he looked away, he noticed Bruce. This time the boy was looking at Jeremiah, his face twisted in pain and anger. Harley rose an eyebrow. He'd seen Bruce be pissed by injustice before, but there wasn't just his sense of right or wrong driving him to these emotions. There was a sort of protectiveness in the way his hands curled into fists. He'd only seen it when someone had gotten a little too rough with Y/n back in the days, or when Selina had been in danger those few times Harley had seen Bruce get protective of her.

What were the odds that Harley wasn't the only Wayne that had a crush of some kind on a Valeska?

From the way he struggled against his ropes, Harley was starting to think they were getting more probable by the second.

Everything was cut short as gun fire went off on the rooftops, diverting Jerome's attention just long enough to be shot in the shoulder by Jim Gordon. Bruce escaped, Jerome's trigger didn't work, and everyone was scattering as a giant blimp began to inch across the sky. Harley moved to Jerome, slinging Jerome's arm around his shoulders. Jerome pulled away though. "What's up?" Harley demanded, desperate to escape in the chaos.

Jerome groaned. "I have an idea. But we need to go up." Harley hesitated but then nodded, both of the men running to a nearby building and up the flight of stairs to the roof. Harley hid just out of sight when Jerome told him to. Jim busted onto the scene moments later and Harley ducked out of sight, moving so he could still see even if he couldn't quite hear. Words, at least. The gun shots he heard clearly. One to Jerome's hand, knocking the phone away. Another to his stomach, and Jerome was falling. Back. Off the ledge and over.

Harley almost threw up. He was stunned, eyes wide as he watched Gordon scramble forward. He only got comfort when he heard talking over the side and saw Jim reach down a hand... Harley rushed forward, hitting the back of Jim's head with the bat he still had. The officer crumbled.

"Gordon?"

Harley leaned over the side to see Jerome barely dangling by a pole. "You idiot." Only now did Harley realize he was crying. He reached down but Jerome just frowned, not taking it. Something then dawned on Harley and the boy paled. "You weren't going to take his hand either, were you?"

Jerome grunted, rolling his eyes. "This is the end of the line for me, Harley."

"No the fuck it isn't," Harley snapped back. "You promised me we'd talk about us later." He shook his hand, offering it again. "You've been driven by hate and loneliness and spite your entire life. You didn't think past that night you killed your mom, did you?” Something changed in Jerome’s face, but Harley was too angry to stop. “You barely tried to hide it, and you made minimal effort to get away with it. Then after, you stayed in Gotham to, what? Destroy your brother?" Harley scoffed. "I'm tired of this Jerome. Damnit, I'm tired of watching people suffer." He sniffed and Jerome's face seemed to relax as he actually listened. "We can kill whoever you want, I don't care. But my brother and your brother have a crush on each other and it's hilarious and I need you here to laugh with me about it, okay?" He choked up. "I need you to rule this stupid town with me. Or to not to. Maybe we could stay lowkey or leave. Maybe we could hide out somewhere and just go missing or fake our deaths and never show our faces again so no one knows we're around to even find us. Maybe..." He shrugged. "You can take me to whatever hell you want to Jerome. Let's blow more things up and kiss over dead bodies. You don't have to ruin your brother just because he ruined you. Or maybe you do. Whatever. Just come back with me, okay? Please." Harley stretched out his hand more and Jerome got a new look on his face.

He took Harley's hand, and Harley hauled him up, struggling only minority. The second he was standing, Harley grabbed his face and kissed him. Jerome hooked his good arm around Harley's waist, keeping them close. "You love me."

Harley held tightly to Jerome, closing his eyes as he tried to let go of the mental image his brain was trying to create of Jerome being flattened on the street below. "More than I even love myself," Harley confirmed. "It's probably why I've stuck around, really."

Jerome hummed. "Our brothers have a thing for each other, huh?"

Harley laughed. He leaned back and Jerome reached up, wiping the tears away. "Maybe we could just let them be." Harley shrugged again, struggling to come up with the words to explain how he was feeling. "If they really do like each other..."

"My brother is as messed up as I am," Jerome warned. "I'm at least fun- he's just manipulative."

Harley nodded. "Then what better way to break them than have them break each other, hm?" Harley nudged him. "And if he does end up being total shit, then we can turn him crazy just like you want to with that gas of yours." Harley sighed. "Just, I don't know, my brother deserves to be happy. He's lost his parents and now his brother and his whole world is on its head and-" he stopped cold, sucking in a sharp breath. "It's his birthday today." The day occurred to him suddenly and he looked up at Jerome, pleading. "Would it be too much to ask for?"

Jerome pursed his lips. "When he hurts him-"

"You can kill him, and I'll help you."

A smile finally grew on Jerome's lips. He knew this was a win-win. Either he was wrong about his brother and they all got somewhat of a happy ending, or he was going to see some actual fun. Either way, it was going to be entertaining. "Fine." He sighed. "We have to get to his little base quick then, though." His smile grew and Harley felt himself get excited.

-

"Hey Handsome."

Jeremiah jumped at the sound of Harley's voice. He went tense, looking around for his brother who usually accompanied the boy in front of him. No sign. "What are you doing here?"

Harley shrugged. He was pretty amicable so Jeremiah calmed even if he didn't totally relax. "I killed Jerome."

That seemed to take Jeremiah by surprise. Understandable. He wanted to doubt Harley, but the boy's expression was open and honest. Even vulnerable, like he was apologizing. "Why?" He asked instead of voicing doubts that were slipping away. Harley was wearing a casual t-shirt and jeans now, different from the little fancy get up he'd been wearing while with Jerome. There was something different about the boy in front of him as well. Something distinctively different than the Harley that had flirted with him a foot away from Jeremiah's brother, who was presumably also Harley's boyfriend.

"He tried to kill Bruce." Harley sighed, leaning against the wall behind him. "We had an agreement that Bruce was untouchable. If he died accidentally because he was being an idiot, fine. But Jerome sought him out specifically. And on his birthday." Harley clicked his tongue, shaking his head back and forth. "Bruce can hate me. He has every right to. But he's still my younger brother." He looked away. "He means everything to me, you know. We used to be best friends." He smiled softly but then looked back at Jeremiah, clearing his throat. "Sorry. I'm sure you're not wanting to hear that after I've told you your own brother is dead."

"No,"Jeremiah reassured. "It's actually quite a relief." Harley nodded as if he understood. "Wait but why did you come here? Just to...tell me that?" Harley held up a purple package with a huge silver ribbon. Only then did Jeremiah realize the boy had been holding it at all. "And what's that?"

"Jerome came up with a gas. Had Scarecrow make it himself. Kind of like fear gas, but it makes you..." Harley tilted his head back and forth as he searched for the word. "More like Jerome, to put it nicely. Unhinged." Jeremiah stepped back from the box, curling into himself. "I didn't want his plan to succeed, so I'm here to step in."

Jeremiah looked at Harley, confused again. "Why would you care what happened to me?"

A smile rose to Harley's face, soft and rather attractive. Jeremiah had already come to terms with the fact that he was attracted to Harley Quinn. He was also attracted to Bruce Wayne, so maybe it was just that the Wayne bloodline produced very good looking men. Whatever it was, Harley seemed much more welcoming and friendly now compared to his flirting the last time they'd had an extended conversation. One where Harley had stood up for Jerome and seemed to hate Jeremiah. One that had left an impression to someone who was quite opposite of the man standing in front of Jeremiah now. "I see the way my brother looks at you."

Jeremiah felt his heart pick up. "You- what?"

Harley giggled. "I don't think even he knows yet, but he does have some feeling toward you. I figure he's lost enough people. Had far too many opportunities for something he deserved pass him by. He's sacrificed enough." Harley stepped forward, closer to Jeremiah. "I guess I want to get you guys together. Maybe one relationship between a Valeska and Wayne can actually work out." Harley's smile was strained here and Jeremiah felt pity for the boy. "So what do you say? You couldn't tell him I was around, of course, but I'm sure you'd do a lot better with a bit of help."

Excitement rose up in Jeremiah's features. "You can stay here if you want. I have a free room I could make into somewhere you can sleep."

Harley grinned. "How sweet. I actually would appreciate that, if you don't mind." He stepped away. "I have to dispose of this, but... you know, I think we're gonna be good friends." He nodded in a silent farewell and Jeremiah smiled in return. Harley found his way out himself. Jeremiah didn't think anything of it as he was far too excited thinking about the possibility that Bruce Wayne could return his feelings on any level, as well as the possibility of having a real guy friend his age. Ecco was cool, but branching out a bit wouldn't hurt.

It took five minutes for Harley to find his way out. He skipped to the waiting car then got in the driver's seat, starting it up and taking off. Jerome grinned from the passenger seat. "How is it that you got around without that little blonde girl following you?"

Harley scoffed cockily. "If you and him think the same, then I can just as easily figure out that maze of his as you can. The same way I assume Ecco has it down as well. She knows Jeremiah like the back of her hand. The same way that I know you." He shot a wink at Jerome who smirked, leaning back in his seat.

"So you're my little secret weapon, eh?"

Harley giggled as he pulled to a stop at the building they'd been hiding out in since escaping Arkham. "Something like that."

Jerome leaned over, catching Harley's chin in his fingers, and then Harley's lips with his own. The kiss was slow and deep and purposeful, and it made all of Harley's insides light on fire. "You know, I love you too." Harley's head was spinning and he couldn't wrap his mind around that kiss let alone the words that had followed it. Jerome had never kissed him like that.

"What a joker," Harley croaked. It had become a bit of a running gag  to call Jerome that. "Cute but totally rude."

Jerome's hold on Harley's face tightened. He looked angry. Maybe Harley had offended him. But how could he have? “You know Harley, I show you every time I've been genuine. You've seen me afraid. You've seen me sad. You've seen me confused. You've seen me have many other emotions beside just amusement and anger which is what most people see. You've seen me about to jump off a building and end it all for god's sake." Harley swallowed, trying not to let that exact instance come back to him as a memory in his already muddled state. "Do I look like I'm joking to you?"

Harley wet his lips. "Why me?"

Jerome smiled, giggling softly. "Because you're just like me, and you accept that. You thrive off of it. I don't have to bend and twist to get it out- you wear your crazy like a badge. You walk through fire to be with me just because I've asked you to. Because you love me, and I like it, even though I’ve despised the thought of love... until now. You're probably the only person in my life who's ever loved me." His hold loosened in favor of caressing Harley's face. "You were right, you know." He snorted, as if amused by the sentence. He must not have said it a lot. "You can't just belong to me. And you don't. I belong to you too. I really would do anything for you." Smiling, Harley leaned forward and kissed him again.

There was a certain excitement in the moment. Jerome loved him.

There was also a sense of dread. A sense of being locked up, in a sense. Jerome had never been loved before. Had never loved anyone more than he loved himself before. He wouldn't handle it well if Harley was hurt or left him. Harley couldn't imagine wanting to leave Jerome after everything they've been through, but normal relationships always had the recognition that it might happen, right? You dreaded that moment and hoped it never happened... By the look in Jerome's eyes, Harley knew that wasn't a possibility. They were stuck together forever now. It was Jerome's Harley and Harley's little Joker. Forever.

Or, at least, until death do them part.

-

"Hey Lovebird," Harley greeted brightly one morning.

Jeremiah scoffed, but he was smiling so Harley knew no harm had been done. "Good morning Harley."

Harley waved at Ecco who nodded at him in return, a small smile on her face. "Any plans today?" Harley asked, setting himself down next to Jeremiah.

A little coy curve of his lips was answer enough, but Jeremiah explained anyway. "Bruce is coming over today to see the new prototypes." Here he got excited, going into full nerd mode. Harley and Jeremiah had begun to get close. It was kind of wild to see a sane version of Jerome. Boring though. Harley could never bring himself to spend too much time with Jeremiah before he needed to visit his boyfriend again.

His boyfriend. Jerome had finally made it official and had picked up the pet names again. Harley was weak over it. He didn't think he'd ever have a boyfriend, let alone one who was so unapologetically proud of being with him. Someone who really loved him and encouraged him to be himself. It was exhilarating.

Ecco brushed her fingers along the back of Harley's head. The boy knocked out of his thoughts and looked up to see Jeremiah looking expectantly. "Oh sorry." Harley blushed, embarrassed. "What did you say?"

Jeremiah shook his head, but he still had that amused smirk on his face. A teasing expression. Lighthearted. "I was saying that I was thinking about maybe asking him on a date after. If... if you think it's not too early to do that? Or if he won't totally shoot me down?" He got nervous.

It seemed that Jeremiah had gotten into the habit of ignoring little odd things Harley did. He still hadn't asked how Harley so easily found his way through the maze, nor did he question little moments like just now. What could Harley be so happy about? Maybe he wrote it all down to Harley's time with Jerome and his excitement for the possibility of his brother being happy or something. I think Jeremiah was basking in the feeling of watching two brothers really care about each other- something he never experienced but undoubtedly had wanted in some way or another. Harley was curious but couldn't ask, himself. All the odd things he was doing didn't need to be brought to light in favor of exposing the little odd things Jeremiah was doing. And Ecco seemed to trust Harley enough, as long as he made no move to hurt Jeremiah in any way. So for now, it was fine. I guess.

"I don't really know," Harley relented. "The only relationship I've ever been in wasn't exactly... normal."

Jeremiah suddenly got very serious. "Of course, sorry."

"No worries," Harley dismissed. "I just mean I would probably be a bad gauge of timing. I think you should go for it though. Maybe try to be subtle, but definitely drop some hints and give it a try." He smiled and Jeremiah mirrored the expression, relaxing as he daydreamed just a little bit about things that might happen if this whole thing went well. "Until then," Harley continued, flicking Jeremiah's shoulder to get his attention back. Jeremiah blushed, making Ecco smirk and roll her eyes. "Let's make some dinner. Nothing will get him to stay like some good food, and knowing him, he'll probably have skipped a meal again while still unsure if Jerome is alive or not." Harley looked at his hands.

Jeremiah swallowed. "Yeah, makes sense." He moved to Harley, nudging Harley's shoulder with his own. "Come and help me?" He was trying to be a good friend and keep Harley distracted from sad thoughts. Little did he know that Harley was simply annoyed. He just wanted to be happy with his boyfriend without his brother trying to find them both and throw them back in that hell hole Arkham.

"Fore sure," Harley responded anyway, forcing a smile. "We better hurry. Waynes have high standards for food."

-

Harley chilled in the room with all the monitors as Jeremiah showed off his prototype to Bruce. Jeremiah had moved the operation to the room to allow Harley to listen in and gauge Bruce's reaction to things. Harley couldn't help without coming out and revealing himself, but Ecco went back and forth so if Jeremiah really needed a hand he could give advice through her. Harley and Ecco together were really good at coming up with solutions and dealing with romance. They seemed to be able to find a whole braincell between them, and it worked well. It was quite impressive actually.

Bruce seemed super interested in Jeremiah's little project, but every once in a while those eyes full of light and excitement would turn from the energy thingy - Jeremiah had explained it maybe hundreds of times to Harley, but he still didn't exactly get how it worked - to Jeremiah, and his eyes would get even brighter; his smile even wider. Harley got it, honestly. Jeremiah was shy and soft spoken for the most part but get him talking about his idea for this cleaner power source and he came alive in a way that made him all levels of adorable. He used his hands to talk when he was excited, and kept looking between the project he was explaining and the boy he was explaining it to. Every time the boys' eyes met, both of them got a little pinker and it made Harley giggle.

"They're such nerds," Harley scoffed, rolling his eyes.

"They're idiots," Ecco agreed. "Which is crazy considering they're both seen as geniuses in Gotham. Especially Jeremiah." They both laughed softly before Ecco headed out again, leaving Harley alone.

Watching them took quite a while, and as time passed Harley found himself getting more sad. He wished that he could do things like that with Jerome. Flirt and geek out together and share little looks and innocent moments. Go on dates and hold hands and share long looks and dusty pink blushes. Harley wondered if Jerome had ever looked at him like that. No, such a soft look didn’t belong on Jerome’s face.

Eventually it ended and outside the compound, Jeremiah asked Bruce on a date. Obviously the boy said yes. Inside, the trio of friends celebrated as Bruce went home that night. And after they’d cheered and congratulated, Harley told Jeremiah that he needed some air and headed out.

This was another odd thing that Jeremiah was choosing to ignore. Sometimes Harley stayed the night and sometimes he didn’t. No one questioned it.

Harley headed to the hideout where Jerome was waiting for him. He was busy though, seeming distracted by a small book and lots of drawings. Harley planted himself on the couch to give Jerome some space. Whether he was planning or just musing, Jerome likes his space when doing it. Harley was willing to wait and give it to him.

In the quiet, Harley’s mind wandered back to his thoughts from earlier. He imagined just for a second, a world where Jerome’s smiles were soft. Where his smiles were warm. Where his eyes were wide and his words were honest and soothing. Where his touch was gentle. Where they were together and they cuddled in the park during lunchtime and had a picnic as Jerome rubbed his back and they both lay in peace and quiet. He imagined kisses that brushed rather than bruised. It was a sweet thought. A fantasy he’d loved as a child.

Did he still like it? Could he imagine himself in a life where he got a job and wore a suit or even a tshirt and jeans like he had been for Jeremiah? Like he had when he wasn’t Harley Quinn? Honestly, he couldn’t.

A frown took his face. He had nothing to distract him and icky feelings began to rise up, so he defaulted to habits that had yet to fail him. He went out to the store and got a drawing notebook and a pack of pencils and then colored pencils and got to work. He sat and drew as he continued to wait for Jerome, sifting through his mind.

He expected to draw that fantasy. That park and the grass and the serene expressions on his and Jerome’s faces. He couldn’t seem to bring himself to do it though and instead spent the next however long drawing memories rather than fantasy. All of them were Jerome, and there was blood everywhere. Most of them were just doodles, but the expressions he focused on. He made sure to capture the twisted enjoyment in each recall.

Only then did he divert to that sort of calm Jerome. Not Jeremiah, who was a coward and awkward and kind of annoying and paranoid and boring. A Jerome who’d grown up in a place that was loving and a world that was accepting.

This drawing took time. It was detailed and careful as Y/n drew the smiling face of a boy that had been destroyed before he even had a chance to begin. There was softness and warmth and gentleness and it made Y/n grown even more deeply.

“What’s that?”

He hadn’t realized Jerome and gotten up, but it didn’t bother him to show his boyfriend what he was doing. Harley had nothing to hide. “I’m having these thoughts. Watching Jeremiah and Bruce today...” he shrugged. “It made me think.”

Jerome hopped over the back of the couch, landing next to Harley. He tilted his head in curiosity. “Think about what?”

Harley offered a small smile. “You don’t want to hear about it.”

Raising an eyebrow, Jerome countered, “You don’t know what I want to know. Tell me!”

Sighing softly, Harley gave in. “You know every tine we have sex, it’s rough. And every time you kiss me it’s hard and desperate. Like it might be the last time. Every time you look at me there’s a heaviness in your expression. Like your affection for me is weighed down by something. By fear or anger or lust rather than love. And- I mean I don’t mind it. I like our sex.” He chuckled, rolling his eyes at himself. “I don’t know I just saw how they looked at each other today. And the awkward way that they communicated. Being coy and innocent and flirty. It was kind of cute. Made me realize I’ve never had anyone look at me like that.”

Jerome nodded as he listened. He was getting better at that as time passed. He was easily bored and antsy, but spending time with Harley seemed to ease him in some way. Just enough that the two could hold out a surprisingly functional relationship. It was why Harley spoke so honestly now- there were no more secrets between them.

Jerome tugged the book and writing utensils out of Harley’s hands, setting them on the ground before pushing him down on the couch. “Is that what you want?”

Well that wasn’t expected. “Do I want someone else? Of course not.”

“No,” Jerome corrected. His hand rose to stroke Harley’s neck. The boy shivered. “Do you want me to be gentle?”

“I-“ Yet again Jerome had somehow surprised him. “Why?”

Jerome shrugged. “You deserve the world, my dear. If you want someone to look at you like those idiots in those sappy movies, I’ll do it at least once. My motto is that you have to try everything at least once to see if you like it. It’s how I figured out I like men.”

That made Harley chuckle. He touched Jerome lovingly, humming in thought. “You don’t have to change for me, J.”

“I know.” His hips dipped and he grinded into Harley. The boy beneath him gasped, his lips parting and his head pressing into the couch as his grip fighting in Jerome’s arm and shoulder. “Do you want me to do it or not? Just so you know.”

Taking a second to regain his breath, Harley nodded. “Just as long as you’re in charge.”

Jerome grinned. “Good, because tonight I’m in the mood to make you feel really good.”

-

Male reader tag List: @sheepfather

[imaginesmai]

Mob!Tom Holland - Fawn (3)

This is inspired by  Don’t play with fire , @peaceisadirtyword. It’s an amazing Ivar fic, take a look if you have time!

Third part is here! Finally more Tom and reader, I hope you like it. I’ve decided to write an actual date of posting and the parts I’ve planned - and the link to those I’ve written - in the general summary. Click here to read the previous parts!

Plot: your second time at the club doesn’t go as expected, although it doesn’t mean it’s bad.

The make-up was much more lighter than last time, because you had insisted in doing it yourself. To Richard, it didn’t matter, because Tom had already seen you. Lisa was again talking a mile per hour by your side, trying to catch the bartender attention to make your order and hers.

With your clothes you hadn’t had that much luck. You were wearing some tight black jeans that didn’t let your breath if you bent an inch, and some loose red blouse that you had found in the back of your wardrobe by chance. You were grateful for it, because if it had been as tight as your trousers, you felt you would have shown the human float of fat that the jeans were pulling up. Still, the blouse let away enough cleavage for Richard to accept.

He was once more waiting outside with the black van, with a man you hadn’t had met yet and with the line open to talk to you. At your incessant requests and threats of not doing it, the line would always be open and ready for you in case something happened, yet you weren’t sure he would actually do anything if the situation came.

“I can’t believe you agreed to come for a second time” Lisa suddenly said, slumping on the place besides you. “The girls usually don’t go out on Monday’s, but I always want to!”

“Yeah, it was a surprise for me too” you mumbled and laughed humourless.

You had made up some story about how Richard was gone for the night and you wanted to be away for a while, because you were stressed and had had a lot of fun last time. She was so excited to go out again, that she didn’t care about what happened on Saturday, or the fact that you were with her less than five minutes.

But there were you again, with Lisa and with the same pit of dread on your stomach.

“If this keeps up, next thing we’re going to do is a wardrobe renovation” she motioned to your clothes with her chin. “This is the last time you’re seen with me so covered”

You gave her a small smile and looked forward again.

When Richard had told you the news that you had to come back, you had screamed and refused to do so. Sunday was gone between arguments and hurtful words, and Richard made everything he could think of to make you feel miserable. It wasn’t until that evening, when he had given you the pitiful look and had asked you to do it for him, that you had agreed.

The Hollands were supposed to be there too, in the VIP zone, and you had to enter somehow. You had been giving it sideway glances every now and then, but you could only see the blonde woman that had stared at you walking from one side to another. She hadn’t seen you, or you hoped so.

The drinks were slammed in the desk and you jumped, looking ahead. It was a great disappointment when the bartender wasn’t the same as the other day, but a young boy who you didn’t recognize. He had freckles all over his cheeks, a pointy noise and green eyes. He was cute, probably a few years younger than you, and Lisa was already on her way to a conversation with him.

The boy, clearly uncomfortable by the way Lisa was shoving up her breasts on the counter, left the bill and turned around to continue servicing. For a moment, you thought that Lisa might handle bad the rejection, because she turned a bit red on the tip of her ears and made a ball of the bill.

But then she smiled and took half of the drink in a big gulp.

“Well, he was too young to understand, anyway” she shrugged, and you looked at you. “Take your glass and let’s go dancing. I’m not leaving until I find someone”

“Try to go to the entrance of the VIP zone. Make sure Tom or any of his brothers see you”

You had almost forgotten that Richard was connected to your ear, and the second of surprise you gave him was enough for Lisa to take you by your arm and drag you across the floor. It would have been useless to try and redirect Lisa, because she was sure on her steps and walked until the group of boys she must have been eyeing were inches away from you.

The spot she had chosen was the farthest from the VIP class, and the closer to the DJ cabin. You were a few feet from the speakers, that made the ground shake with their volume. Space was the only thing you didn’t have close, because you were as tight as a sardine in a can. You watched as Lisa moved avoiding all the bodies close to you, while you received all the shoves by just standing still.

You hadn’t even taken your glass.

“Y/N?” Richard talked again. “Are you close to the VIP zone? Who is there?”

You looked to the VIP zone, and from that spot at least you could see a bit more of it. Since it was in a high place, you could only distinguish the heads, but the ginger curls only had one owner. The blonde girl was still coming and going around, and you noticed the other bartender with his back facing you. Apart from that, you could  hardly see anything else.

“Lisa” you called for her and leaned forward, trying to hear your own voice. She leaned in too, never stopping moving. “Could we, uh, move far from the speakers?”

“What?!”

“Can we move?!” you screamed back.

Lisa straightened up and shook her head swiftly, making her hair bounce up and down her shoulders. A hard push against your left side made you collide with the wall, and you bit back the pained whine in favour of not upsetting Richard. He had made it very clear that you couldn’t have the same attitude, although it was the one you always had.

“Well? Are you there?” Richard demanded, and there was some background noise.

The thing about the earpiece was that it felt horrible to be able to listen to it that close. You heard everything that happened there, a sneeze, a tap with the feet or even Richard’s breathing. Besides, in that moment you were getting swallowed by a mass of sounds and lights strong enough to make you feel dizzy.

Richard repeated himself, Lisa called your name, and you just turned back and ran.

-

Fresh air hit you in the face when you opened the back door, so hard that it made you stumble a little. It was more like freezing air rather than fresh, typical of the first nights of spring. The door closed behind you as you walked down the rough steps of the backdoor of the club, and silence welcomed you like a calming blanket.

You took a second to look at your surroundings, and discovered that you were on the other side of the building. Behind the club, there was a huge field with wild flowers and vegetation, where you used to take some mornings jogs early in summer. It wasn’t the dark alley you had imagined when you had discovered the door unlocked. And it was just what you needed, because as soon as you sat on the last step, you could feel everything coming back.

You had never been a fan of big crowds. Concerts, supermarkets or big parties wasn’t your type of scenario, but what you had just seen was worse than that. People were throwing themselves one to another, screaming and laughing too loud over the noise, and the music was making the walls vibrate. One thing was to experience it from the counter, where you heard the music loud.

But down there was demoniac.

“Y/N, why aren’t you answering me?” Richard, who had been talking nonstop since you came, interrupted the small peace. “The noise has stopped. Please, tell me you haven’t chickened out”

“I’m sorry” you said, sounding small and weak. The club had drained you whole. “I couldn’t –“

“Don’t come to me with the pathetic attitude” Richard snapped. “Go back inside and to the VIP zone”

“I can’t!” you tried to reason with him. “Rich, it’s horrible. There is – it’s noisy, sweaty and dark. You know I don’t do well in that places”

Richard was silent for a second, the same way he had been on Saturday’s night. He was disappointed, and you wondered if you could really go back there and walk into the VIP zone. Maybe Harry would recognize you and you could make a small conversation with him. He seemed pretty funny and outgoing, so if you talked about Lisa, maybe you could make Richard happy.

But you knew they were all empty reasons, because you couldn’t go back there without dropping on the spot. You were an interior designer, young and introverted, that spent more time reading at home that going out. No parties, no discos or pubs. Richard didn’t seem to see anything behind his job.

“Don’t wait me tonight, I’ll see you tomorrow Y/N” Richard said through the earpiece, venom dripping from every syllable. “You fucked up. Again”

The line went dead, and the small black and blue device got lost into the field when you threw it with all your might. Which wasn’t much, but it served to take him away from you.

You hid your face on your hands, curling around yourself and thinking about your possibilities. Richard had probably done the same again – leaving without you and going to spend the night drinking. The van wasn’t there anymore, Lisa wasn’t an option and you didn’t have money for calling a cab, because your purse was still inside.

At least you weren’t wearing the short dress, though the thin blouse offered you little comfort. You didn’t have more energy to cry, because you would have done that if you could. You thought about Richard and how your friends warned you about him when you started dating him. How even Lisa told you that he wasn’t a nice guy, but you didn’t listen. He had done things like that before; leaving you alone in your birthday because of the job, scorning you in front of his colleagues, and taking credits for things that were yours.

But you couldn’t leave him, because you loved him. Even if you couldn’t go back inside for him.

The door opening almost made you lost your balance, and you briefly noticed how clumsy and scared you had become the last days. Maybe, if you kept digging a hole on the floor with the tip of your boot and didn’t look to the stranger, they wouldn’t notice you. The door closed and the noise was gone again, leaving you knowing there was someone behind you that you didn’t want to acknowledge.

A faint smell you recognized from somewhere hit your nostrils when the stranger moved, and soon you felt warmer than before.

“Hey fawn”

Tom’s voice was a huge contrast with the last one you had heard. While Richard had been cold and angry, full of disappointment, Tom’s held something you couldn’t understand. He moved slowly and carefully, not wanting to startle you as he sat by your side on the third and last step of the rough stairs. A pair of black, expensive shoes appeared beside yours, looking much larger and comfortable too.

You followed their owner and faced Tom Holland for the second time in your life, who was as breath taking as the first one. His clenched jaw greeted you when you looked at his face, but he wasn’t looking at you. Tom was looking at the field in front of you, in a relaxed attitude that didn’t seem much like the mob’s leader he was.

A small half smile started to form on his lips, as one of his elbows rested on the step behind you.

“Cat got your tongue again?” Tom looked at you briefly, and you looked away. You felt your cheeks heating up. “Are you going to run off again?”

“No” you quickly answered, and you surprised yourself with the calm response you gave him. “I was – I didn’t mean to leave”

“But you did” Tom pointed out. You could feel his eyes fixed on the side of your face, but you went back to your previous foot movements. “Was I making you uncomfortable?”

You realised, that you didn’t have an answer to that. Had Tom Holland made you uncomfortable? You certainly didn’t have the best time of your life in your last encounter, but probably it had to be more with Jacob and Richard and less with him. Again, you didn’t feel uncomfortable in that moment. You pursed your lips and tried to think of something to say, because you were sure he would know if you lied again.

“I’m not a fan of this kind of place” you shrugged, and high-fived yourself. “Too much noise, and people”

“Then why it’s the second time I see you at my club?”

At his question, you turned your head to look at him. Tom’s eyes weren’t hard or threatening, they just held curiosity. For a moment, you got lost in how beautiful they looked. Richard used to say that brown eyes were the most boring thing in the world, because unlike blue or green, they didn’t say anything. Tom’s eyes weren’t boring, you thought.

“My friend Lisa” you said.

You realised when the words left your mouth that you were talking between almost whispers, in such a soft tone that it seemed almost like sharing a secret. Some cricket sounded in the distance, but you kept looking at Tom. It wasn’t like looking at Richard’s eyes when you had an argument, to see who had more power in their eyes. It was just simple gazing, like the stars.

Tom’s lips curved into a smile finally, and some wrinkles appeared around his eyes. His whole face changed when he smiled, as if he was a different person trying to break free. He moved a little and, from behind his back, took two objects that widened your eyes and let your mouth hang open.

He chuckled and extended his arm towards you. Hanging from it, stood the jacket you had brought to the club on Saturday, and that you had totally forgotten about. You hadn’t even thought about it since then. And then, on his large hand, was the small purse you had chosen for that day, that only had a bunch of pounds and your lipstick.

Still, you were extremely grateful when you took both of them and dropped the jacket around your shoulders. It had been the only thing Richard had let you choose, a thick green and soft jacket that couldn’t possibly match with any of your clothes. But he knew you would take it off inside, so he let you.

“Picked up the jacket the other day, and I noticed it was yours even if I barely caught your name” Tom commented, still looking at you. “Good thing I found the purse too”

“I did give you my name” you pointed out with a small smile, and returned to your original position to look at him.

“I know” Tom said, and his eyes widened a little for a second. The blush you had spotted on Saturday made its appearance on his cheeks, before Tom got it under control. “I mean – I remembered. I have a good memory, that’s all”

You decided that, since he hadn’t ratted you out for any of your lies although you were positive he could see past them, you decided to pass the way his voice lost his confidence. Your smiled widened even more and your shoulders slumped. Even if it was only the second time you spoke to him, you decided you liked when Tom Holland’s blush appeared. For all you know, there could be guns and knives under his clothes; but you didn’t care.

It hit you then that Tom was outside with you, but you didn’t know why. You could have sworn that he wasn’t in the VIP zone before, and that he had come outside with your jacket and purse let you know that he knew you were outside before opening the door. You let your smile drop a little, a sudden itch growing on the back of your neck.

If he knew you had been back there, he could have seen you talking to Richard.

“You’ve asked me why I was out” you asked, and the scared fawn Richard mocked you for was back. Your voice was hesitant and more of a question than an affirmation, but you kept going. “And you? Did you… follow me?”

The accusation, although it was as threatening as a bunny with a plastic stick, made Tom go rigid. He straightened his back and leaned over, so close that your shoulders brushed and your brain screamed at you. Quickly, you casted your eyes down and felt how your whole body started to tremble. Everyone knew who Tom was, so you comforted yourself saying that it was a normal reaction.

You were ready to be another corpse by the Holland’s mob or be the victim of some slaughtering. Maybe Richard would finally realize that the job was too much for you. When they showed your decomposed body to him. Or maybe he would be happy because you finally interacted with one of the Hollands.

“I was just making sure you were alright”

You looked up so quickly that for a second everything had black spots, but you managed to see Tom’s face already fixed on you. You didn’t really know when a man was lying or telling the truth, although with Richard you were becoming vaguely aware of that. The naïve girl in you was slowly turning more suspicious, and usually you caught Richard when his apologies weren’t sincere; lately, a lot of times.

You tried to convince yourself that Tom wasn’t being sincere, but the same voice who told you when Richard was lying, was then calm and quiet.

“The guy of the other day was clearly molesting you, and since you’re too good to call him out, I decided I could keep an eye on you” Tom explained. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to stalk you or –“

“Why didn’t you do anything then?” you interrupted him, but Tom didn’t seem to mind. Another rule made by Richard thrown by the window. “If you knew he was… that”

“Because you didn’t want to” Tom answered, as if it was the most obvious thing. “I don’t beat people for fun. It might seem, uh, weird. Please, don’t think it’s weird, but I don’t like seeing you upset? Honestly, it just – okay, it’s weird. You can say it”

Tom’s cheeks were more than blushed, you realized. They were coloured by a bright pink that made his nose scrunch and the tips of his ears become red. He wasn’t looking like the threatening leader Richard described you, more like someone who played scrabble and stuttered a lot.

Surprising both of you, your mouth decided to work without your brain once more.

“I don’t think it’s weird, it’s cute”

Your smile went back to normal once more, because Tom seemed loss of words and was looking adorable. He opened his mouth to say anything else, but a noise startled the both of you.

Some meters away, on the other corner of the building, were two people. Just from looking at the back of her head you could say Lisa was making out with someone, and by Tom’s groan you knew the other person was Harry. They were heavily making out against the wall, and the noise had been an empty bottle falling to the ground. Lisa was practically already fucking the twin, her tongue shoved into his throat and her hands running all over his head.

You cringed when one of his hands rose up her dress and gave away the black lace panties she was wearing, and she let out a loud moan. Still with their mouths locked, they both moved again and rolled to the other wall of the corner, from where you could still hear them.

Tom had buried his head between his arms and was mumbling some angry things about his brother, but you could appreciated the small smile.

Just then, you decided to look the clock on his wrist, and noticed that it was past three in the morning. You were aware suddenly of the way the jeans were squeezing your legs, how the boots where destroying the feet, and how your stomach was being compressed into the size of a nut. Tom raised his head, and peeked out to see if his brother was gone. When he checked so, he sighed and ran his hands through his face.

“At least he wasn’t naked yet” he said, and you gave him a full belly laugh. It was genuine, because Tom implicating that he had seen Harry naked with a girl had its fun, as both of them were gangsters. “Oh, besides talking you laugh. That’s – that’s a really nice noise”

It was as if Richard was behind you, telling you to laugh quieter because you were disturbing the show he was watching, or laugh less because his friends might think you were weird. You coughed and finally got up, gripping your purse with one hand and closing the jacket with the other.

Tom frowned and got up too. He wasn’t too tall, neither as big as some of Richard’s friends. But when he crossed his arms, through his shirt you could see the outline of a hard work every day.

“I should get going” you pointed to nowhere really. “Um, it’s late and I have to work tomorrow”

“Where is your car?” Tom asked. “Because that alley can be pretty full of people like Jacob.”

“Oh, I don’t – I’m calling a cab” you chuckled, a pang of hurt knowing you couldn’t call Richard for a ride. “Or an Uber. There must be someone close”

“None sense, let me drive you”

You wondered if that was a good idea. Richard wasn’t going to come home for the night, and besides, even if you spent most of the days together, his official apartment was on the other side of the city. If there wasn’t an Uber or a cab around, you would have to walk home; which you didn’t want to do again, because you were cold and your feet hurt.

But the idea of saying yes to Tom wasn’t appealing neither. Even if you had had your history of trusting guys who had hurt you before, you thought you had drawn the line with the mob’s one. Before you could answer, you stomach made it for you, doing an awful and embarrassing loud noise.

“We can stop to eat something first” Tom chuckled. “I know a place who is open, and has the best hamburgers in London. What do you say, fawn? Up for a night drive?”

When you were back home, alone, you were going to have a serious conversation with your pillow or mirror. Because if your mouth kept moving before your brain, you would have a lot of problems in the days to come.

“Lead the way”

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[fullsunalicia]

oh could you please write like a soulmate au for chenle? i just watched this video on yt 'chenle is an angel' and honestly its giving me major chenle feels because hes so sweet and caring and cUTE?? if its not a bother and if you arent busy hehe

pinky promise — ZCL

a long time ago, long before the symbols on your wrists appeared, chenle gave you a promise. no matter what, he’ll love you forever, whether that’s going to be in a familial sense or romantic. you would never have thought that chenle would break it.

soulmate au — when you turn eighteen, a symbol will appear on your wrist that matches the one your soulmate has.

gladly bubs! honestly this is chenle’s era, look at him go,,,, i love him so much sigh

Promises are sacred. In this friendship, they’re not shallow words that are easily spoken. Whenever Chenle and you lock pinkies, the next thing that’s going to be promised is of utmost importance.

“I promise to tell you the truth.”

“I promise to take care of myself.”

“I promise to love you forever.”

Your eighteenth birthday is supposed to be a day you get excited for, and not a day you dread. Yet, you’re the one who’s going to lock herself into the room for the next seven days, and if you want to cry on your birthday, you will do it.

Zhong Chenle has broken his word, and your heart with it.

❀ ❀ ❀

You met Chenle in kindergarten. Rosy-cheeked and a big grin on his lips, he had offered to push you on the swings. He always made sure you didn’t fall, and when you did, Chenle was always the fastest to grab some bandaids. At that age, boys tended to be disgusted by the other gender, but Chenle had always treasured you as much as any other friend. You shared sweets with him, and you already began exchanging birthday presents at age seven. Toys turned into handwritten letters and bracelets you made yourself, and flowers were replaced with real jewelry Chenle bought you with his pocket money.

At age thirteen, you bought him a proper bracelet, not one you made yourself. It wasn’t much and couldn’t compare to the ones Chenle always got for you, since your family didn’t earn as much as he did, but when you told him that you saved up your pocket money and even helped around in the neighborhood to gain some, he had burst into tears and held you close for the longest time.

It was the first and last time you ever saw Zhong Chenle cry.

He was not the type of child to spill tears; always happy, constantly loud. His good mood radiates and affects every person around him. It’s funny to watch him panic when you start bawling, since you’re a big crybaby and Chenle is a stone when it comes to feeling upset. He just doesn’t see any reason to do it. If something upsets him, he works on it.

Tears don’t get you far in life. It’s what Chenle was taught, drilled into his head since he first stood on his own two legs. Even now when the stress bursts open his temples and weighs on him as heavy as an anchor, he’s just unable to do it. He clutches to you like his own personal life ring, fingers leaving scratch marks on your arms and back as he tries to get a grip on reality. Never once do tears pool in his eyes. It’s just not him.

At age sixteen, Chenle bought you roses. He was just a little older than you, barely being able to call himself that with the few months he’s got on you. You’re younger than your shared friend Jisung, but it’s not fair he plays the ‘respect your elders’-card every time you get cheeky with him. On that day though, Chenle had given you the roses and held your hands tightly, his face unusually serious, almost scary.

“You’re younger than me, so I have to protect you. I have to show you how a boy should treat you so you’ll never let anyone trample over you.”

Pinkies interlocked, Chenle promised to never let anyone hurt you. He started showering you with presents and bouquets, even though you begged him not to waste any money on you. Your words fall on deaf ears - he doesn’t accept the ‘your friendship is the biggest present’. He has to show you. Windows are left open in the middle of the night so Chenle can climb in, because you don’t want to be alone. When your parents start fighting, he starts taking you out to do all the things they usually don’t allow you. Stay out until the sun rises. Skip town and go to a fair. Go on your first party and get a taste of alcohol, but only this sip - Chenle still deems you too young.

You don’t know when your friendship had shifted into something more, but there comes a time where Chenle stops looking at you as his baby that he has to protect and starts recognizing you’re becoming a woman. Hands start hindering you from getting to your first date; he claims your boy is nothing but trouble. Cute outfits are snatched out of your hands just so he can pull his own hoodie over your frame, because “it’ll be cold outside and I don’t want you to get sick”. Chenle stops making his friends sit on each other’s lap in a full car so you have a seat for your own and begins sitting you down on his own lap, legs spread, hands on your waist.

When you look Chenle into the eyes, you don’t see the innocent toddler that used to put Spongebob bandaids on your nose, but a grown man. Chenle, who fills out his baby face features. You still pinch his cheeks, but it’s not the same when both cheekbones and jawline are sharper than in your childhood days. Veiny, big hands that cover your own. He even thinks about going to a fitness center, but you can hinder him from that by luring him with cuddles.

The moment this boy - or man, whatever - starts gaining muscles, you’re seriously going to lose it. You have to postpone that for as long as you can. There’s still that selfish wish inside you that craves for Chenle to stay the friend you made in kindergarten, with a soft tummy and dimply cheeks. It’s childish, but you don’t want him to grow up and be noticed by even more fans who will for sure fall in love with him.

Of course you’re happy for him. You attended lots of showcases and concerts, and Chenle always laughs and says you’re the loudest one to scream. Every album is bought yourself, no matter how much he wants do it for you. Very often, you end up going with his parents to support him at an event. It seems like with every comeback, Chenle drifts out of your hold.

Age seventeen, Chenle makes you a promise that changes your friendship forever.

Surrounded by several plates of sweet and sour pork, dumplings and spring rolls, Chenle and you are seated on the ground inside your room. The window’s wide open, the nightly breeze making you shudder every once in a while. In the past few weeks, he’s been busy preparing for a comeback, and had practically jumped at the chance to have a free day. As soon as he had told you about it, you grabbed your keys, gotten some takeout and took the bus to his place. With a big grin, Chenle shared some information with you about the music video(even though he was technically not allowed to), going so far to ask you to only look at him during the music video or he’ll get jealous.

You rolled your eyes at that, but he was only halfly joking. Not that you knew that.

“How’s school going?”

You sigh. “Sucks without you, of course.” Chopsticks clatter on your plate as you let go and lay back, looking for comfort in the blanket your best friend had given you. He’s got the best view of the house - the city’s skyline is clearly seen even from your seat on the ground, the pale moonlight filling his room with a ghostly ambience. Outside, you can still hear people chattering away, even though it’s late in the evening. “But atleast I don’t have to worry about exams anymore. We’re all just waiting for summer break. It sucks to be stuck in a classroom when it’s a thousand degrees outside and we’re not even doing anything productive. Why would I go to school to watch a movie?”

“Be patient, you big baby,” Chenle giggles. He stuffs his mouth with a dumpling and follows your gaze, before he looks at your face again. You may not notice it, but Chenle stares at you often. There’s something so angelic about your features, the soft slope of your throat ... When he closes his eyes, he can vividly picture you. You’re unforgettable. Born out of stardust and sunlight, you are the single most beautiful thing Chenle has ever laid eyes on.

No money in the world would ever be enough to match your worth. That’s why he will treasure you forever. It’s a silent promise, the only one he never speaks aloud.

A yawn tumbles from your lips, and you wrap yourself tighter into the blankets. Why cuddle the blanket when you can cuddle him? “Whatever,” you mumble, unknowingly answering the question he posed in his mind. “I just want to get the hell out of school and visit the ocean again.”

“You want to visit your grandmother?”

You hum. “Yeah. It’s been so long since we last went. I didn’t even get to swim that day.”

Chenle remembers. It was cold and the wind was freezing up your cheeks, almost hurtful to the touch as he had pressed his hands against them. You shared a picnic there, but your mother forbade you from entering the water. That day, he had discovered that you’re even pretty when you pout. He clears his throat. “I’ll take you,” he says then.

His heart jumps in the most lovely way when you reach for his hand. He mimics you, gripping it tightly as he inches closer to your tired body and presses your hands against his cheek. Even though the darkness casts shadows over your pretty face, the dim light makes your eyes shine like jewels. “You’re busy,” you remind him, but there’s a big, grateful smile on your lips as you take in the view infront of you. Does he make your heart skip like you do to him? What galaxies do you find in his eyes? “You can take me when you’re not busy promoting another album. I’ll go with my cousins this summer.”

“Let me take you,” he complains, but Chenle knows just as much as you that he won’t be able to. When you pull him closer, his fingers move on instinct to untangle the blankets enveloping your body so he can pull it against his own. You’re frail and precious, but that doesn’t stop him from holding you as tightly as humanly possible. When your hands bury themselves in his dyed hair, his eyes slip closed.

In moments like these, he can pretend you’re his and he’s yours and there’s not a worry in the world. Someday though, you’re going to find your soulmate and leave him forever. And he can’t even get mad about it; how could he get mad over something that makes you happy, when it’s all he wants in life?

“(y/n).” Chenle breaks free of your embrace and holds up your hand so he can lock pinkies. You follow his quick movement with your eyes, suprised about his sudden actions. “I want to promise you something.”

“Hear, hear.” You’re joking, but there’s just a slight hint of nervousity hiding in your voice. He doesn’t have the time to ponder over that.

Chenle looks you in the eyes and sees the woman he wants to marry someday. The woman he’s never going to have. “(l/n) (y/n), I promise to love you forever.”

❀ ❀ ❀

You had left Chenle’s house that evening with thousands of questions swarming your mind. After he promised you, he returned to finishing his dinner and even offered to take you home, but you had needed the fresh air and alone time to think about what he said. Why would he say something like that, when his soulmate mark already appeared? Does he want to break your heart that badly?

A summer at the seaside will help clear your head. It’s not like Chenle confessed to you - in a way, it was just like any other promise he’d made you. This isn’t the first time where he had been overly affectionate with you. You’re reminded of the last summer where Chenle was so hellbent of proving you how a real boyfriend should treat you, and you almost want to start crying again.

What guy that was in love with you would show you how another guy should do that?

When Chenle comes to help you pack your bags for Busan, he never mentions the promise. Like always, he makes fun of you and your bad habits, since you tend to pack last-minute every time. Your grandmother would be disappointed Chenle wouldn’t accompany you both, but it’s not like you can tell the guy “hey, stop being an idol for once and come chill with my grandma”.

It’s a four-hour-drive by train. Chenle insists on buying you snacks while you wait for said train to arrive at the station, and your best friend returns just before your transportation means arrive. “I’m going to miss you,” he says, and you wish he wouldn’t say that. It tugs at your heartstrings, since they’re tied around Chenle’s mere existence. Every step away you take away from him hurts. You don’t want to go without him.

But you don’t say that. Instead, you tell him: “I’ll miss you, too. I’ll show grandma your music video.”

“You better - she’s my biggest fan.” Chenle hooks an arm around your waist and pulls you close. You want to scold him not to do that in public, but his lips are already on your cheek. It’s a pretty quick way to shut you up, and he enjoys the way you blush. Unbothered, Chenle lets go and stuffs your bagpack with the many gummybears and chips he bought. “Text me when you’re there. I don’t want to find out over the news that you turned into a zombie.”

“Please leave the corny jokes to Jeno, Chenle.”

That makes him laugh. He grips your hands for a last time. When he offers you his cheek, you can’t help yourself, leaning forward to leave a peck there on instinct. It hurts. But you stay quiet.

“See you soon, (y/n)ie.”

❀ ❀ ❀

What a blatant lie.

When you reach Busan, several trends are already taken up by Chenle and the most recent scandal. You should’ve known. No, you knew you should have stopped him, and yet you selfishly decided against it because you did everything for just a slither of his attention. The place where his lips had met your skin still tingles, the effect not numbed by the tears running over them.

The public eats the rumors up; they’re all very excited to trash you for being close to their precious Chenle, and it doesn’t take long for his company to react. This is what you feared. This is what you’ve been trying to avoid for so long, and now it’s caught up with you.

He ignores all of your messages. Not a single call goes through. That evening, you’re contacted by his manager. He tries to formulate it as a plead, but you know it’s an order.

“Please refrain from meeting Chenle ever again. He has a dating ban until he finds his soulmate.”

The words are like a slap to the face. Your grandmother doesn’t question it when you leave the house to walk to the beach, at the very spot Chenle and you hang out at every time you’re there. There’s a bench in which Chenle carved in both your initials, and you can still hear yourself beg him not to do it because he’d hurt himself.

Of course that idiot cut himself several times. But it’s impossible to get mad at him when he smiles so sweetly at you and hugs you so tight you forget all about your worries.

He’s never going to hug you like that again.

The sea shells you find prick tears at your eyes, since they’re the same ones you used when you were younger to create the necklaces you gifted him. You shatter them inside your hand, matching the state your heart is currently in.

You curse the universe for giving you Chenle when he was never yours to begin with.

❀ ❀ ❀

Days stretch into weeks as you wait for any sign of life from Chenle. With every day that passes, the pain grows bigger, eating away at your heart and mind as you cry yourself to sleep. You tear out all of the birthday presents you’ve gotten from Chenle in plans of being rid of them forever, but it feels like such a betrayal to yourself that you end up cowering over them, violent sobs wrecking your body. You’ve never been away so long from Chenle, and it hurts. It hurts to reread the many letters and hear his voice whispering the words. Looking at pictures seems almost impossible when it feels like salt being strewn into a deep wound.

The closer your eighteenth birthday looms, the more you feel like vomitting.

You don’t want a soulmate if it’s not going to be Chenle. Your Chenle, who laughs so loud the entire street hears him. Chenle, who taught you how to play basketball despite you being so clumsy. Chenle, who composed a song on the guitar for you as a seventeenth birthday present. You’d rather die than look at anyone else the way you used to look at him.

You know hearts can’t physically break, but your chest hurts so much. With your best friend gone, it feels like someone ripped a huge piece out of it and left it to bleed out. And it feels disgusting.

In the last hours before your birthday, your thoughts keep drifting back to Chenle’s soulmate tattoo. You’ve never seen it, but you know it took him a longer while for it to appear. Usually, when the clock strikes twelve on your birthday, it’s supposed to already be there. It only takes longer when your soulmate lives far away, or you’re not the same age.

Despite rejecting the idea so much, you wonder how it’s going to be for you. You’ve seen several soulmate patters; the intricate lines connecting to form a heart on your parents’ wrists, or the balloons tied together on the skin of Chenle’s parents. Jisung’s small smiley, right over his pulse artery.

Your parents cheers flood your room as midnight signals the end of your seventeenth year of life, but the missing person is felt by everyone. Instead of Chenle, Jisung is the one to burst through the door to give you a present and a hug you desperately need.

It’s not the same. It’s not your childhood best friend of fourteen years, but you’ll take anything that eases the loss of him.

Your soulmate mark doesn’t appear until lunch, where your mother slides you a piece of cake over the table and promises to celebrate your birthday properly when she comes back from home. Your dad’s already long gone.

There’s another promise ringing inside your head while you stare at the dessert, but before you can cry over that, too, it knocks quietly at the door.

It’s unusual for your mom to forget anything. She’s very tidy, a born perfectionist. She never let you forget your school stuff on purpose, no much how you begged her to let it slide just this once. You swing open the door, ready to tease her for being forgetful, but your mouth falls open instead of speaking.

Chenle doesn’t let you recover from your shock. He pushes you inside, locking the door behind him. His hair is disheveled, his cheeks a fiery red - did he run here? “What the hell?” you gasp. “Chenle, what are you doing?”

“I ran several blocks to escape the dreamies and came here because I couldn’t stay away from you.” Your best friend topples over as he tries hard to catch his breath, and you turn to fetch him a glass of water. You’re stopped before you can make a single step, familiar arms wrapping around your middle to keep you there. How long has it been since you’ve last hugged him? You almost forgot his heavenly scent; the mixture of way too expensive perfume and chewing gum. Chenle raises his head to look you in the face. “I made you a promise, didn’t I?”

“You disobeyed your management just to show me your stupid soulmate tattoo? I don’t want to be the reason you get into trouble again...”

“Did yours appear?”

Your breath hitches. For a few seconds, you just continue looking at him, the familiar teddybear eyes that have watched you your entire life. Making sure you don’t trip. Watching you get home safely. “Yeah,” you finally whisper, and you let him hold your arm besides yours.

His fingers are trembling, almost as much as yours. You don’t dare hope, but it’s impossible to do so when Chenle is right here and your heart yearns for him so much, it almost jumps out of your chest. “(y/n),” he says. His voice is the remedy to the pain blooming inside your chest. “I gave you another promise. And I don’t intend going back on that. That’s why I’m telling you again, (y/n), that I love you with all my heart. You are in my heart, been there since the day you gave me that necklace you wasted all your money on even though I’ve got enough to cover us both. I’m so in love with you, in love with your flaws, your mistakes, everything that makes you you. I’ve loved you long before I even knew what love was. It doesn’t matter what’s on your wrist, (y/n), because I’ll love you for eternity. I’ll love you until I die and I’ll love you even after.”

And then he tugs down both of your sleeves.

Despite revealing the soulmate marks, you still look at each other for a long time, imprinting the other’s face into their minds for maybe the last time in long. You think about Chenle’s laughter and how easy it was to laugh with him. The sweet, dark chocolate brown color of his eyes, how you can look past them and right into his soul. And you think about how Chenle never cries, and yet the tears spill past the rims of his eyes to leave wet tracks over his milky pale cheeks.

The pattern matches. Several points, connected by thick lines. A star constellation. You can even name it - Cassiopeia, lover to King Cepheus, a love story written in the sky.

For a long time, you both don’t move. And then you jump straight into Chenle’s arms, you almost knock him over and make him slam his back straight into the door, but he still laughs and wraps his arms around you. You can’t breathe because of his tight embrace, but you don’t care, you don’t need to breathe when this is the single most happiest day in your life.

“I didn’t bring you a birthday present,” Chenle whispers, and you draw back to cup his face. Every single cell inside of you screams for you to kiss him, but first, you have to thank your soulmate.

“You’re the birthday present, Chenle.”

The universe’s apology comes in form of a sweet kiss, one that’s long overdue since the day Chenle sent you off to Busan. This time, you’ll return to your grandmother to introduce her to the love of your life.

[heyyyharry]

Chapter 1: The Princess

(from the ‘The Conman and the Maid’ series)

…in which a trip to the South changes a princess’s life forever. 

Word count: 5.4k

AU: princess!y/n, prisoner!harry, conartist!harry.

Series description: Y/N is a princess and Harry is a prisoner in her castle. With his help, she escapes from her arranged marriage and her father’s rotten kingdom in search of a happy ending, if there is one.

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PROLOGUE

Once upon a time, in a faraway land, a beautiful princess fell in love with a charming prince. It was love at first sight, and the prince risked everything and fought the evil to rescue the damsel in distress. After the victory, they ruled the kingdom in harmony and lived happily ever after...

But that was not the story you're about to read.

In this faraway land, the bad guys didn't always cloak themselves in black nor were they easy to spot. They lived among the good ones. Princes weren't always charming. But the princess didn't need a prince.

She needed a sword.

~~~

The snow fell weightlessly downward from the pure white sky, like colourless confetti in a wintry ballroom. It alighted on Y/N's face as softly as her mother's kisses, but it was cold, very cold. Her tiny gloveless hands were numb as she tightened her fingers around the grip of the wooden sword, trying to keep balance on her two awkward legs. Her mother had told her time and time again never to go outside without her gloves. But the little princess would rather lose her fingers than lose her weapon during a fight.

Her brother Egon stood a few feet away with his sword in his hand, mirroring her fighting stance, ready to attack. Egon was ten and she was eight. He was strong and fast, and their father — the King, was very proud of Egon's sword skills. Y/N knew there was no way she could beat him. She couldn't do that indoors let alone outside while she was freezing like this. Still, she didn't want to give up, so she hoped she would last longer this time.

"On guard!" Egon shouted and charged straight at her like a swift arrow. She managed to swing her sword and shielded her head from his wooden blade, but he continued hitting and she could only defend herself while stumbling backwards. One hit in the stomach and she was sent to the snow-covered ground.

"This is why a girl should not hold a weapon," Egon said with a smirk as the tip of his sword was just an inch away from the tip of her nose. "You can't fight, little sister. You only get yourself hurt."

Y/N propped herself up on her elbows and watched her brother lower his weapon and turn away, content with his victory.

"Can I try again when we get back?" she asked.

Egon looked over his shoulder, a corner of his mouth quirked up when he saw Y/N struggling to get up as her feet were sinking into the snow.

"Sure, dear sister," he said. "Then I can beat you up again and mother can't say anything about it."

Watching Egon race back to the castle, Y/N heaved a sigh and came to pick up her sword. The cold that had seemed mild at first was now almost unbearable so she must return home before she began to freeze, or worse, her father realized she had left her chamber.

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"Y/N! You are late!"

"I'm so sorry, mother. I was—"

"Fighting again?" King Willem raised his voice and the distinct chattering of his men faded to silence. All they could hear now was the desperate howling of the wind through the portcullis. Everyone was looking at the little princess, for whom they had been waiting in the awful cold.

Y/N fidgeted with the fur on her white coat, her eyes were glued to her feet. She was too afraid to look up into her father's eyes.

"Please forgive me. It won't happen again," she pleaded, despite believing she'd done nothing wrong.

If she hadn't had to take a bath, change into a dress and wait until the maids finished braiding her hair, she wouldn't have shown up late. But she knew every word she said now would only get her into more trouble. It was better if she stayed quiet, like a lady should.

Meanwhile, Egon was sitting in his carriage with a mischievous smirk on his face. She knew it was him who had told their father where she'd been. Of course, he must have purposely forgotten to mention that he'd been with her the whole time. But even if she'd told the truth, her father would rather believe she was lying than punish his perfect son.

"Get the horses ready."

Willem turned away and the crowd of guards and servants scattered at his command.

The cold that was spreading across Y/N's skin was nothing compared to the look her father had given her as he headed to his carriage. If it hadn't been for her mother's sympathetic smile, she would probably have burst into tears.

Queen Meira kneeled down in front of Y/N and held her tiny face between her palms. The gloves felt so warm against the princess' cold flushed cheeks, which put a smile back on her face.

"Remember what I said, darling?"

"A princess should always be punctual." Y/N sighed, nodding her head. "I know, mother. It won't happen again."

Despite knowing she would break that promise one way or another, Meira still let Y/N get away with it and stood up, squeezing her daughter's gloveless hand.

"Come, my dear. Let's not give your father more reasons to be angry."

.

.

.

Every year, King Willem and his court would travel to the kingdom of Theros in the South to attend the annual summer festival. Edgar Connell was Queen Meira's younger brother and also the king of Theros. It was he who had taught Y/N how to fight with a sword and he was probably the only one who loved her more than Egon. In fact, her uncle Edgar didn't even like Egon, and that was another reason for Y/N to love visiting him. Egon couldn't lay a finger on her during their stay in their uncle's castle. Besides, the South was so much better than the North.

In the South, Y/N could stand under the sun and feel the warmth of those brilliant rays of light. She could also dance on a cushion of green while watching the strands of grass move in the breeze as easily as her hair.

Here in Isolde, it snowed all year round. Winter, spring, summer, fall, no matter what season it was, it was always snowing. Y/N guessed as you lived too long in the cold, your hearts would begin to freeze until it reached a point where you could feel nothing at all. That was why most of the people in this kingdom were so dull and sad.

Thanks to the Gods, she was blessed with a warm heart like her mother, a true Southerner.

Queen Meira had grown up in Theros, and it was only until she was married to Willem that she moved to Isolde. She had always said Y/N was more like her, while Egon was a Northern man like their father. That, and being a boy, had made life so much easier for Egon. He could go anywhere with his sword and fight anyone he wanted. But of course, Y/N didn't want to be like him and hurt innocent people for no reason. She just thought it was unfair that he was praised for violence while she couldn't even be seen anywhere near a toy weapon.

There was this one time her father caught her fighting imaginary enemies with a stick, so he broke the stick and locked her up in her chamber for two days. If her mother hadn't convinced him to change his mind, who knew how much longer she would've been punished? Nevertheless, Y/N didn't think she was wrong. It wasn't her fault that her father had never shown affection for her. He probably wouldn't have treated Egon the same way if Egon hadn't been a boy.

Y/N had overheard some servants in the castle call him a heartless monster who only loved the crown on his head and himself. And even though she understood why they had said something so cruel about her father, she knew for a fact that it wasn't true.

The one thing King Willem loved the most wasn't the crown or even himself. It was the woman who had been by his side ever since they were children.

"It was love at first sight," the queen had told Y/N. "He was everything I'd ever wanted. He was kind and patient and prudent. But to put on that crown, he had to leave so many things behind, one of which was that young boy I fell in love with. I love him very much, and yet, sometimes, I still miss the person he used to be. That's the price one has to pay to wear the crown, Y/N."

It was a lot for an eight-year-old to take in and Y/N supposed she would get it when she was older. Even if she didn't, it wouldn't matter. It was Egon who would be on the throne one day, not her.

.

.

.

It took about a month to travel from Isolde to Theros because the king and his court had made a few stops here and there before arriving in the South. Willem hated delays. But for every annual trip to Theros, he allowed one more stop by the Vidarr river right outside the castle. That was where he had met Meira for the first time.

It had been fate. They were supposed to meet in the castle, but Prince Willem had decided to explore the foreign land alone on that beautiful summer afternoon, and Princess Meira had decided to go to the river and pick some flowers for her mother's birthday. Their love story was almost perfect.

Y/N knew one day she would marry a prince as well, so hopefully, it would be someone who was just as madly in love with her as her father was with her mother. And of course, she would make sure that her husband stayed kind even after becoming king, the one thing her mother had failed to do.

Hopping off the carriage, Y/N turned a blind eye to the judging look her lady-in-waiting was giving her, and stretched her limbs like she'd normally do before a fight. Then, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. This was the smell they didn't have back home. The smell of flowers, of fresh dewy grass, of mud, of freedom, of summer. Real summer. So while her parents were lost in their own romantic world and reliving the good old days, Y/N snuck away from her lady-in-waiting and followed Egon into the forest. The children raced along the riverbank until they found a large tree and were far enough to be the only two there.

The water was green this season, darker in the shadows and more pale in the light, but still green. Y/N got down on her knees and flicked it with her hand to watch droplets scattering over the surface like rain, another thing that didn't exist in the North, just like snow in the South.

Just like her mother, Y/N loved the rain. It rained a lot in the summer in Theros so she got to see it every year. Meanwhile, many people in her father's kingdom had lived their entire life not knowing what rain was. And Y/N felt very lucky to be born with such a great privilege, which she always had to remind herself every time her brother made her feel miserable.

"What are you doing?" Y/N asked when she saw Egon stripping off his shoes and stepping into the river. "You cannot swim, brother. Neither can I. I won't be able to save you if you fall into the deep end."

"Does this look deep to you?" asked the young prince as he spread his arms, his knees hadn't even gone beneath the surface. "Join me, little sister."

Y/N shook her head without a second thought. "We should probably get back."

"Get back?" Egon snorted. "Go ahead. You're such a girl."

Those four words were all it took for Y/N to kick off her shoes and stand barefoot on the sun-warmed grass like a "girl" she should be. Maybe this wasn't a bad idea after all, she thought before holding up her dress and taking careful steps into the river. Once the water was flowing around her limbs and drinking away her body heat, she thought she could just stand there all day long.

But then, the princess felt something soft and mushy around her ankle. She tried to brush it off with her other foot but—Was it...moving?!

A loud scream tore through her tiny body as it collided with the surface and sank deep into the dark green water. Her arms and legs kicked out desperately as she tried to swim up but she couldn't. The water swirled around her, trapping her. Her head was throbbing and her lungs felt like they'd been set on fire. Where was Egon? Why hadn't he pulled her up? Those were the only questions she could ask herself before she felt a hand clasped around her wrist, dragging her upward to the daylight above.

It took a moment for her vision to clear, and a shadow towered over her, blocking the blinding southern sun.

"Can you hear me?" the stranger asked, his voice echoing in her head. And when she felt the warmth and softness of the grass beneath her body, she realized she was still alive and jolted right up, her forehead bumped into the other person's, both gasped in pain.

It was a boy. A kid, just like her.

"There, there," he said while rubbing her back as she coughed uncontrollably and spat out the water she'd involuntarily drunk. "Why did you go swimming when you couldn't swim?"

The little princess wiped her mouth and shot the boy a spiteful glare. "I didn't. I fell into the water. There was a snake!"

She expected him to be scared or at least shocked, but he only laughed and said, "there's no snake in this river. Maybe it was a fish."

Embarrassed, Y/N decided to ignore him as she pushed herself up and looked around, trying to recall which path would take her back to her family.

"Well, a 'thank you' would be nice?" said the boy as he jumped to his feet and wrung excess water out of the dirty old shirt he was wearing.

Y/N almost told him to get lost and stop wasting her time, but after taking a whole second to eye him up, she mumbled, "thank you."

She wasn't a monster. She felt very bad for how miserable he looked because of her, but she supposed she didn't look any better. She was drenched, her dress was stained, and her hair was once again an unruly mess. She didn't look like a princess anymore. She looked like...him.

With a smile, the green-eyed boy brushed his wet brown curls out of his face and extended a hand for her to shake. She only stared at it, and then at his face.

"Not a handshake person then?" he joked, yet she only responded with a shrug.

Normally people would bow when they met her or at least kiss her hand. This boy didn't know she was the princess so she couldn't blame him, but it didn't mean she wasn't slightly offended.

"What's your name, peasant boy?"

"Peasant boy? I just saved your life!" The boy chuckled, shaking his head. "I'm not telling you my name. You sound like that crazy lady in my village."

His comment made her roll her eyes. "How old are you then?"

"Ten. I don't know what you could do with that information but—"

"So you're the same age as my brother Egon," she said, giving him a once-over.

This boy was taller than her so she had expected him to be older. What surprised her was how he was nothing like her brother at all. He talked differently and behaved differently, and he had just saved her life when her brother had left her to drown. So it was true then. Not every boy was the same.

"I'm eight," she finally told him. "And you are very strange."

"Me? Strange?" He pointed a finger to himself, looking quite amused and surprised. "Have you heard everything that came out of your mouth?"

The princess gave a slight shrug and ducked past him to follow the path she had recognized.

"Leave me alone. My family won't be so happy to see you."

"Why? I saved you, didn't I?"

"Yes, now it'd be nice if you saved my time by leaving me alone."

"That was uncalled for," said the boy, but he kept on walking with her anyway. "And I'm not following you. I'm playing hide and seek with my best friend."

"Hide and seek?" Y/N stopped immediately. The look on her face as she turned around made the boy cackle.

"What? You've never played hide and seek before?"

She had, with the maids, who were all older than her and always let her win. Egon had never played and would never play this game with her, for he believed it was made for the girls. So, no. The princess had never played hide and seek, not properly at least.

"Of course I have! All the time!" she lied and waved him off. "Now leave me alone and get back to your friend. He must be worried."

"She. Her name is Kenny. She's pretty like you, but much nicer."

"Your friend is a girl?"

"Well, she looks like one," he said, trying not to laugh, but his snarky remark went right over her head.

"Is she your betrothed?"

"What is a betrothed?"

"Someone you'll marry when you're older."

"I don't know." The boy shrugged, pursing his lips. "Maybe. If we both want to."

"If you want to?"

"Why should you marry someone you don't want to marry? It doesn't make sense."

Y/N didn't know that. She had always thought everyone was betrothed to someone when they were small and eventually fell in love with this person their parents had picked out for them. So it didn't work this way then. Interesting...

"Crow! Where are you?!"

The voice from the distance made both kids turn their heads.

"Oh, that's Kenny! I have to go!"

"Crow?" Y/N smirked. "Your name is Crow?"

"No."

With that one-word answer, the boy ran away without a goodbye, shouting, "I'm coming, Kenny!" and then, he was gone.

Y/N thought she was insane for even considering asking to come along. He might have been slightly annoying, but she really wanted to play hide and seek like a normal child for once. But then the thought of her angry father reminded her that she must get back immediately; otherwise, there would be severe consequences.

"Oh, hello there."

Y/N gasped, completely blanched at the stranger she'd bumped into. It was a woman, young and beautiful like her mother, with piercing grey eyes and icy silver hair. Her face was white, corpse-like white, and her lips were as dark as the color of her cloak. As she flashed a smile, her gold front tooth turned Y/N to stone. The princess took a step back when the smile on the woman's face slowly disappeared.

"Are you lost, Your Majesty?"

"Wait, how do you—"

Y/N didn't get to finish her question when a loud piercing scream tore through the serenity of the forest. The strange lady now stepped aside to make way for her.

"You should get back before it's too late," she said, smiling again.

Frightened and confused, Y/N started running. She sprinted as fast as she could, following the scream which she had recognised. It only got louder as she got closer, and by the time she'd made it back to her family, it was already too late.

She knew there would be consequences, but this was even worse than she'd imagined. Her legs gave in as she watched the whip crack down on the maiden's back. The princess' lady-in-waiting was screaming and begging the king to spare her life, but King Willem just kept on whipping until her light blue dress was stained with fresh blood.

"Y/N!"

The whipping stopped.

The whole scene sank into silence as Meira dropped down to her knees and pulled her daughter close. Willem finally dropped the leather whip in his hand, catching his breath and told the guards to take the maid out of his sight. She was unresponsive when two men dragged her away.

"Is she...is she dead, mother?" Y/N asked, tears were streaming down her face and she was shaking in her mother's arms.

"No, she just...she just fainted..." said the queen, yet she sounded just as afraid.

"Where have you been?"

"Willem—"

"WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?!"

"I-I fell into the river, father!" Y/N cried out while clinging onto her mother in fear of being dragged away just like the maid. "Egon was there! He left me there to drown!"

"She's lying!" Egon pushed past the guards and rushed to the front. "I was looking for her but I couldn't find her so I came back to tell you, father!"

Willem put a hand up to silence the boy and glowered at Y/N, who was sobbing into her mother's chest.

"The princess will stay in her chamber for the rest of our stay. No one is allowed to speak to her except for the maid who brings her food."

"Father, no!"

"Willem, please..."

"And you." He turned to the queen and his voice started to break. "If you say one more word to defend her, you'll be locked up as well."

When he stormed off, Y/N looked up at the queen. That was the first time she'd seen her mother cry.

.

.

.

"Crow! Why are you wet?!"

Now, where could Harry begin?

He could tell his friend that he'd just saved a girl from drowning in the river, or he could make something up and save himself from hearing Kenny's same old lesson. But when the little girl gave him that worrying look with her big shiny eyes, he couldn't help it. He panicked. And whenever he panicked, he tend to mess up what he actually wanted to say.

"I met a girl."

"A girl?" Kenny arched both eyebrows in shock. "In the forest?"

"Yes. She was lost. I helped her get back to her family."

"That doesn't explain why you're wet though."

"Right..." The boy chuckled as he combed his fingers through his hair which had dried from staying out too long in the sun. "She...she splashed water on me."

"She splashed water on you?" Kenny gasped, her eyes only grew bigger. Harry knew he was going nowhere with this lie and he should back out while he still could.

"Just forget about her. She's gone now." He gave his hand a wave before reaching for hers to pull her along, but she didn't move. She shot him an angry look instead.

"Promise me you won't scare me like that again," she said, frowning.

Harry was left with no choice but to give her a nod and pull her into a tight hug. "Never again, I swear."

Everyone in their village knew about what had happened to Kenny's father last year. One day he was wandering to that same river and he never made it back. They found his body washed up on the bank a few days later. There had been many different rumours about how he'd died, but nobody actually knew what had happened. And since that day, Kenny had never come near a river or a lake again.

"Come on, let's get back to help your mum!" Harry said cheerfully with an arm around her shoulder. He felt like a weight was lifted from his chest when she plastered a smile on her face.

"You're only eager to help so you can attend the king's festival dinner tomorrow night!"

"Well, that's not...wrong," he said and they both laughed. "One day, Kenny, I'll become a lord, and the king will invite me to his festival dinner every year. I won't have to help in his kitchen to be able to attend."

"Will you take me with you?"

"To the king's dinner?"

"Yes!"

"Anything for you, my lady." With a smile, he took her hand and gave it a kiss.

He knew if he'd told anyone else about his dream, they would've laughed and made fun of him. But Kenny was different. She believed in him, and she always made his unrealistic dreams feel a little more achievable.

Ever since Harry could remember, he had fantasised about living the life of a prince even though he'd never even set foot near the portcullis before. That forest was the closest he'd ever been to the castle. As he climbed to the top of the tallest tree, he could see almost everything on the outside.

The walls stood mute as grey stones rose from the ground, defying entrance and protecting what had been entrusted to their care. Someday, he swore he would stand where knights stood and see what kings and dukes saw. Someday he would look through the window on one of those highest towers and the rest of the world — this forest, this river, would be so tiny.

But today, his place was in the kitchen.

His family was poor but Kenny's was not, relatively. Her mother worked in a kitchen of the castle which was quite a big deal for someone from their village. The Rowleys didn't like him very much. In fact, Patricia Rowley had bigger plans for her youngest daughter than being friends with a poor boy like him. Harry's father was a blacksmith, his mother was always ill, so his sister had to take care of most of the housework. He had no future at all. The Rowleys would never want him to be Kenny's—

What was that word the crazy girl had told him again?

Right, betrothed.

They would never want him to be her betrothed. But did he want that? What about her? Did she want that?

A smack on the head made Harry jump out of his daydream. He looked up and saw Patricia frowning at him. "You are here to work! Go out there and help Kennedy!"

Frightened, the boy hurriedly picked up the tray and carried the food out of the kitchen, to the tables at the back of the dining hall. They didn't let servants go anywhere near the royal family or their royal guests, but to see them from a distance was also a dream come true for him.

"That's the king of Isolde," Kenny told him as they hid behind the curtain at the very back to enjoy some fruits they had stolen from a drunk gentleman.

"Why is that seat empty?" Harry asked, pointing to the chair next to the Northern king.

"The princess couldn't make it. I heard that she was sick."

"Maybe it's too hot for her here," Harry joked, making Kenny laugh. He loved it when he made her laugh, even if it was unintentional.

"Maybe," she said with a nod. "The queen is very beautiful."

"Indeed. Do you think she's beautiful as well?"

"The princess?"

"Yes. I've never seen a princess before. I think she should be the most beautiful girl in her kingdom."

"What would you do if you could talk to her?"

"Oh, I would ask her to dance!"

Kenny didn't comment on Harry's answer, but as she stormed out, he realised it wasn't what she wanted to hear.

"Kenny, wait—"

Chasing after the girl, Harry accidentally bumped into a stranger at the entrance. His heart almost flew out of his chest when the beautiful woman flashed him a shiny smile and headed straight toward the king's table. Just like everyone else in the room, he couldn't take his eyes off her.

While all the guests were wearing the most colourful clothes, she was dressed all in black. Her skin was so pale it didn't look any warmer in the candlelight and her footsteps were so light it seemed as if she was floating. She looked like a ghost. A beautiful one.

Then, something else caught Harry's attention. He spotted a gold hairpin under the royal guests' table which he supposed someone had dropped, and nobody else had seen it because he was the shortest person in the room. The first thing that came to his mind was how pretty it would look on Kenny's hair. He had to get it for her, no matter the cost.

As King Edgar rose from his chair to welcome the mysterious lady to his castle, everyone was too busy paying attention to her to notice the little servant crawling under the tables.

"This is Madam Maggie," Edgar said. "She's a prophet, the most powerful one in the land."

"So she's a witch?"

"You can say that," Maggie smiled, unbothered by Willem's cynical remark.

"She communicates with the gods, and she can foresee the future," Edgar said, turning to the king from the North. "Willem, my brother. Would you like to see?"

"How?"

"I can read your palm and tell you about the future of your kingdom, my lord," Maggie said and there was already chattering in the background.

Willem was probably the least superstitious man in the room, so he just laughed it off and told her, "how about you read my son's palm to see what a great king he will be?"

Excited, the prince gave Maggie his left hand.

"The left hand represents your inborn fate while the right hand represents your destiny affected by different decisions and outcomes," said the prophet. "People's fates are governed by God while fortune is created by themselves. So which would you prefer, my lord?"

"Tell me about his destiny," Willem said after a moment of thinking.

"All right, my lord." Maggie gave a nod and stepped closer to take the prince's hand. The whole table fell to silence as she observed the palm closely and ran her fingertips across its lines. "You have two beautiful children. May I ask where the princess is?"

Edgar cracked a smile when he saw the looks of shock on his sister's and Willem's face and others'.

"The princess doesn't feel well so she cannot join us tonight," the queen said. And look on Maggie's face made her tremble.

"Is that so?" said the prophet as she turned to Egon. "If this boy becomes king, and he will—"

Egon sat up straight and fixed the crowd on his head as his father and mother smiled proudly at him.

"—your entire dynasty will go down in flames."

"Nonsense!" Willem roared as Egon withdrew his hand immediately. The whisperings of the other guests got louder as fear was etched on Willem's face, but Maggie still looked as serene as when she first arrived.

"This woman is mad! Guards!"

"Willem!" the queen cried out, but Edgar had already put up his hand to stop the guards before they could get to Maggie.

He turned to Willem with a stern look on his face. "Remember that Madam Maggie is my guest and so are you. A guest cannot request another guest to leave."

Willem was just about to reply when Maggie suddenly spoke, "the little princess, however."

"What about her?" asked Queen Meira.

"Princess Y/N is your only hope."

Maggie's short answer sent the whole table into chaos. While the other guests were discussing what the answer meant, the Northern family was frozen in their seats.

"Have a lovely evening, my lords and lady."

Bobbing a curtsy, Maggie turned away, and suddenly a tiny human jumped out of nowhere and dashed out of the nearest exit before anyone could figure out who it was. When they turned back, baffled and fearful, the lady in black had disappeared without a trace.

.

.

.

"Kenny! Guess what just happened in there!" Harry called out as he ran across the courtyard to where his best friend was sitting on the doorsteps.

She didn't look so thrilled when she asked, "is it about the princess?"

"Yes, it's—"

"Do you like her?"

Surprised by the question, Harry took a step back when Kenny got up and closed the distance between them.

"I haven't even seen her face!" he said, making her frown.

"You don't have to see her face to like her. Everyone knows she's beautiful!"

"She's a girl I don't know, Kenny."

"What about the girl in the forest? The one you do know." Kenny crossed her arms, her nose stuck up.

"She probably returned to her family already, and I won't ever see her again," Harry said and blew out his cheeks. "What is this all about, Kenny?"

The girl fidgeted with the hem of her dress for a moment before she could finally close her eyes and blurt out, "I like you."

"I like you, too," he said innocently.

She stared at him with wide eyes and mouth agape for a moment, but then realised he didn't get it so she waved him off and turned away. "You know what? Forget it."

"Wait, I got you something!" Quickly, he grabbed her by the arm and put the golden hairpin into her hand.

Kenny's eyes popped out when she realised she was holding actual gold.

"Did you steal it?!" she exclaimed, making him laugh.

"No, someone dropped it. Do you like it?"

"We must give it back, Crow!"

"We don't know who it belongs to," he reasons, giving a half-shrug. "Even if we did and returned it, they would probably think we stole it. I mean, look at us! Look at me!"

The way he humorously overreacted put a smile on the girl's face.

"Right," she agreed and pinned the hairpin on her hair. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," Harry mumbled as his dimples popped up.

The children stared at each other for a long moment, and Harry believed his heart had never beaten so hard and fast. Before he could stop himself, the question just slipped right out, "do you want to be my betrothed?"

"What is a betrothed?" Kenny squinted her eyes and gave him the same look he'd given the crazy girl at the river.

"Someone...someone you'll marry when you're older."

"Oh...okay, then..." Kenny sucked in a breath, trying not to smile so wide. "Of course, Crow. I'll be your betrothed."

[craftypeaceturtle]

Our Influence

Summary: AU where when the sides touch they exchange a small influence. So how did the dark sides interact...

Note: Not written as overly shippy but read either way I guess! This is a part two but I feel like you can read this without having read the first (read here). Not entirely happy with how this is written by hey ho! 

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“Hey Fear! Get over here...” Remus cried out without turning around from his creation. It was another attempt at a monster, perfectly designed for hiding in Thomas’ closet. Tendrils and beady eyes stared lifelessly back. 

“I do actually have other stuff to do y’know...” Fear muttered before leaning completely on top of Remus, his arms awkwardly dangling from where he flung them over his shoulders. Fear closed his eyes immediately with a peaceful sigh.

“Yeah yeah...” Remus scoffed as he scooped up Fear’s hand. He closed his eyes and let the feeling wash over him. An understanding flowing gently through him. He ignored his own insecurities coming to light and focused on the beast. It was like seeing through someone else’s eyes. The monster now seemed almost terrifying. Its eyes were like a lizard’s, constantly staring with an intense look despite not seeming to focus on anything. The tendrils were the perfect length for grabbing feet that stuck out from the covers. But, it moved too normally. It moved just like anything else. Not anxiety inducing enough... Remus experimentally twitched and threw his head around before making the creature copy the movements. Twitchy snaps that made it look even more reptilian. “What do you think?” 

“I hate it,” He chuckled, “I like how you remembered the eye thing!” Virgil demonstrated bugging his eyes out while Remus simply laughed him off.

“Yeah, at first I thought that would be boring but it really is the blood splatter on the corpse!”

“Ew!” 

“Are you two finished yet!” Deceit suddenly snapped as he stormed into the room. “We don’t have much time, his mum has already left!” 

The three sides instantly jumped into action. Deceit made sure to cuddle the both of them under his arm so to keep their focus on the task at hand. His influence blocking any other thoughts or doubts. After some rushed bickering, they settled for the creature to materialise out of the jacket that was hanging on Thomas’ closet. Once it was in place, they appeared around Thomas’ bed in a tight huddle; invisible to the boy but their thoughts seemed to ring around his head. 

“Oh Thomas, I’m sure you’re perfectly safe...” Deceit whispered with a fake joyfulness, he almost sounded like Morality. Remus giggled frantically before Fear slapped a hand over his mouth. 

“But what if you’re not! Anyone can break in at any time!” 

“Oh it definitely wants to eat you! But what if it’s like a spider and slowly melts you first! Ooh! Or or... what if it uses those tendrils to throw you out the window.”

Once Thomas started snivelling, they all excitedly squealed before rushing to sink down. Once they all rose up again, Remus cackled joyously and grabbed them both into a tight hug before they could even orientate themselves.

It wasn’t often that they carried out a massive plans like this but Deceit had specifically asked for it for his birthday. It was fun and all, planning out all these nightmares, but it was nothing compared to the adrenalin of actually doing it. Seeing how far they could go before Logic stepped in. Deceit had a massive grin as Remus pressed him tightly into shoulder, despite Deceit being so much taller. Virgil rolled his eyes at the antics while stifling his own giggles into Remus’ outfit. As they all caught their breaths, they all snuggled deeper into the others. Deceit’s influence flowed through them, making it harder and harder to focus on anything but the excitement of doing that! Any thoughts on how Thomas might be upset seemed like whispers behind a shouting glee of ‘oh did you see Thomas’ face’.

The dark sides had always been close. Their influences to each other was what kept them sane and allowed them to do their best. They had to be close! They were the rejects. Where would they be if they started turning their backs on each other? 

Remus needed Fear’s understanding on negative emotions so he could better create terrifying nightmares. Although he wouldn’t admit for many years, it also turned his own fears and storm of ideas into a calmed puppy rather than a roaring beast. Deceit also helped him to keep his mind on track. Virgil calmed the storm and Deceit’s influence helped him find the very best idea out of them all. There was no way he would be able to scare Thomas without either of them.

Fear thrived off of Deceit’s influence. The ability to calm his mind and forget his worries was the only reason he could practically stand most days. Without him felt like hiding from a hurricane without any clothes on. It just wasn’t worth even trying. With Remus as well, he was like an actually functional side! He had ideas and could see whether an idea would work. He knew that he would be nothing without either of them.

Deceit loved Remus’ influence the most, despite how unfair that felt to say. Ideas and scenarios swam gently through his mind. How could he get better at lying? What lies would work in this scenario? Why didn’t this work like last time? He recognised that he could turn to Roman for the same influence but of course that would require being able to get close to him. 

Then there was Fear’s influence. 

A headache would slam against his skull, his brain feeling squished, every time Virgil sadly nuzzled further into his arm. Deceit wasn’t even sure he actually felt Virgil’s influence. All he ever felt was the resounding pain and exhaustion every time they touched. It got worse the older they got. He remembered being aware of it when they were maybe six years old, but then it was only like getting pins and needles. Not painful, totally manageable. But now it felt like a needle pressing through his skull. Until now, Deceit managed through it knowing just how much Virgil needed this. Until now.

Deceit sighed. His mind screamed ‘stop’ but he wasn’t stupid enough to keep going through this. Thomas was nine and therefore they were only nine years old too. But Deceit’s mind was settled. Scraps of plans were scattered around him like some sort of halo. This was for the best. It had to be... He would just talk to him and hopefully limit or stop exchanging their influences. 

They had just finished dinner and he waited carefully until he knew Remus wouldn’t be leaving the imagination any time soon. Bless him, he still thought that it was a secret that he met Roman in there. Fear was tucked into his side as usual. He snickered beneath his breath. Surely that was a given. Not worth pointing out! Where else would he possibly be. “Fear, can I talk to you?” He spoke, slowly pushing Fear into sitting on his own. 

“Uh...” 

“There’s no nice way to word this,” Deceit lied, “Your influence can sometimes be a bit much.”

“What do you mean...” Virgil had paused before responding. He melted into Deceit’s side just as he always would. Something even vaguely uncertain and he’d burrow away. Deceit’s influence made everything so sluggish, Virgil frowned trying to decipher what he could mean. The only thought slipping through Deceit’s denial influence was confusion. 

“Well,” Deceit sighed but his stomach clenched painfully, “That is just who you are! You are Fear. So naturally your influence is unpleasant. Well, unpleasant is a strong word. But you get the point...”

“Okay... But what if I’m... okay that’s fair but I’m not sure... Um I... Okay.” Deceit snapped to look at him. His face slacking and his jaw falling open. 

“Do you think that you are something other than Fear?” 

“W-what! No! No way! Of course not! W-where on earth did you get such a... s-silly idea? Deceit... oh y- No.” Fear didn’t move. 

“You want to try again.”

“Maybe? For a little bit now...” Fear awkwardly made eye contact but the room seemed stifling, “I’m thinking I’m Anxiety? Or maybe something similar and I just don’t know the word yet. Heh... I mean I thought I was Paranoia for awhile there but I- I mean I worry about real stuff too. I’m not strong enough to be Fear. I’m pretty sure I’m Anxiety.” The side was whimpering and his eyes nervously spanned across the room. All his inner thoughts and worries just spilling from him without any control. He wasn’t even sure who he was but now he had told someone! Now he had to be sure. He curled tighter and tighter. 

Deceit sat back for a second. This wasn’t at all in any of his plans. There was no reasonable way he could’ve predicted this. Was his influence so strong that he forced him into denial about who he truly is? Years spent under a name that didn’t suit him? No... Deceit breathed. He started this conversation for a reason, “Right. I’m glad you’ve figured this out. At least a little. But this does raise a good point. So you’re Anxiety...” He trailed off. 

“Uh... sure,” He stammered.

“Does Anxiety sound like a good thing to spread to others?”

The other side’s chin was starting to wobble and he tried to inch further away from him yet never actually moving away from his touch. He sighed. He looked positively pathetic like this. Tears made his eyes look somehow even bigger, his hands nervously clasped under his chin and even his black hoody now seemed too big and scary for such a side. He cupped the back of his head and pulled him tightly into a hug. Surely, he could wait a few more days to tell him. “If it makes you feel any better, I think I’ve finally chosen a name. Don’t worry about what I said. Just... dear old Janus being silly.” 

Janus hated himself for backing out. But Anxiety was like his brother. Maybe he could just keep going on. The influence wasn’t exactly like a headache, just more like an intense tiredness. Nothing bad! Surely it wasn’t worth this upset. If it ever did get too much then he can just actually talk to him again.

Anxiety’s identity crisis seemed to slow after a few weeks, longer than anyone expected, but it seemed like he was glowing now. He was so much more energetic but obviously that still was partially from him and Remus. To be expected. This time though, Janus took a different approach, “Hey Remus. Do you mind talking?” Janus asked as he settled down on Remus’ bed. He was sitting at the desk with his eyes bulging as he tried to manipulate whatever daydream was forming. He waited patiently by examining just how filthy his bed was today- not that bad considering. At least that means he should be in a good mood.

“Yeah, what you wanna talk about?” Remus finally seemed to process Janus’ words and snapped up unnaturally. 

Deceit looked up, “Well, this might seem like a bizarre question, but do you like Anxiety’s influence?”

“What? Of course I do! He’s the only reason why I know about Thomas’ fear of spiders!”

“No! I meant... more in general. The feeling.” 

“I mean yeah! It makes everything so much easier! Instead of feeling all gross and like I’m going to vomit, I just know I’m feeling nervous that we’re going to get caught or something. Why? Do you not like it?” Remus frowned. He looked at Janus like he was looking at him for the first time ever. His words had stilted and slowed towards the end. His eyes widening. Janus felt his gaze like a searching light. But obviously nothing had changed. Well, Anxiety wasn’t glued to his side, hiding under his capelet as he always did. Janus shrugged, hating how his own eyes were watering up, and walked over to Remus. Remus dazedly hooked his arms around Janus’ shoulders. His face stared blankly past his shoulder. “What does this mean? Are you lying to us, because you said you wouldn’t do that with important stuff! Does this mean I can’t go near Virgil? When did yo- No, have you told him? Why... What! What does this mean!” 

“I don’t know just yet... But I think you should stop worrying about Anxiety and give him space,” Janus whispered and allowed his influence to stop all those thoughts. 

Remus had loved his fifth birthday party. It was such a treasured memory. At the time, he loved finally showing Fear and Deceit his slowly growing kingdom and the entire land. The different creatures, carefully balanced to form an actually sustainable ecosystem, to the different houses made out of hollowed out trees. Everything was obviously doused in a good dose of weirdness but it all functioned in its own world. They went exploring in caves, though Fear got mad at him once he figured out he kept changing the tunnels deliberately. He loved when they made themselves bigger and attacked a village. But looking back, the best part was afterwards. The entire time they all held hands. So natural that no one even questioned and wanted both of their hands available. But it was when they came back to the mindscape and all fell asleep on the sofa. They must’ve looked like an overfilled graveyard- bodies just piled on top of each other. 

They had always been close. Remus could count the times they were completely separate on one hand probably. 

“Your influence is a bit much right now Virgil. It’s like agreeing to give myself a headache,” Janus muttered and turned away from him. Virgil deflated. That had to have been one of his worst panic attacks ever, Remus thought after he heard the gasps from Anxiety’s room. He kept asking if he was allowed to go in but Deceit kept saying that it was ‘probably the best to leave him alone’. It was such a small thing! What a cry baby! You left just because of that! He probably didn’t even mean it! It was such a small thing! Janus was so obviously just tired that day or something. Remus spent years screaming at anything that reminded him of Virgil.

Remus was older now. He wasn’t an idiot. That was simply the straw that broke a very fragile camel. Virgil had just told them that he wanted to go by a name, just like him. Imagine telling someone you’ve picked a name out for yourself and then being denied the very next day. Janus had probably already told Virgil that he didn’t like his influence but it only then just hit Virgil? Maybe... Janus of course never liked to talk about what actually happened. That one poor comment was just poor timing.

Right now, he wanted to go up to the light sides and apologise to him. Hell, he could even go to Patton if he really wanted to for tips for a good apology! But he knew that the second he saw him, all those childish accusations and anger would erupt again. His head throbbed painfully. “Ugh, what am I even worrying about! It’s not like I would actually go apologise... Heh, if only Virgil was here. Then maybe his influence would make me realise what I’m even worrying about,” Remus smiled to himself, drooping off his chair, “I guess Janus will do.”

Janus wasn’t surprised to feel Remus drape over him like the dramatic cat he was. It was like clockwork. Now barely a day passed when he didn’t have a green and black lump glued to his side. It was practically a part of his uniform now. He had to laugh. Of course it was years too late before he realised it wasn’t Virgil’s influence that bothered him, but rather his own. 

It made no sense, he kept lying to himself. It was so rare to feel your own influence or be drained by giving people your influence. Or that was what Logan’s research found. Janus resented that his experiences always left him drained. Virgil had too many constant rushing thoughts and anxieties for him to cover up. Yet, without Virgil’s influence, the Duke now has too many constant rushing thoughts and anxieties for Deceit to handle. They had all depended on each other and now they were missing a piece. A headache slammed against his skull, his brain feeling squished, as Remus sadly nuzzled further into his arm. 

Remus laughed at just how much he now depended on Janus. Surely Janus would always be there for him to burrow away in, always. He swore he would be once they realised that Virgil wasn’t coming back. His remaining constant.  

Why would he ever want to leave...

[afterhoursfic]

I haven't been able to stop thinking about feral, calm power bottom Vesemir. Like Lambert's being snarky and teasing, so Vesemir holds him down and rides him till he can't think straight. Geralt fucking him over the dining table, eskel kissing and touching him whole he demands for more. He's a bidet man, you have to be to train cubs, and that def transfers into the bedroom. He's a man who knows what's he wants, and that's to be fucked senseless by his strong cubs.

This is literally platinum tier thinking anon

They can always tell with Lambert because he gets even more unbearable, always has a bit more venom in his words, and throws around insults whilst during training he’s constantly doing bad techniques to put the others off and do a dirty trick to try and get them face down into the stone. That’s when Vesemir steps in and practically scruffs the wolf before bringing him to his chambers with the order to strip, Lambert, of course, tells him to fuck off and in a quick movement, Vesemir has him turned, arms pinned behind his back and his neck bared as he tugs at his hair. They stay like that for a moment before Lambert relaxes a little in his grip, lets out a reluctant fine before shaking free of his grip to remove his clothes, it was all part of the game though, if Lambert hadn’t wanted this he wouldn’t have so easily let himself be dragged through the keep.

It’s easy enough to get Lambert on the bed, Vesemir holding the younger witchers hands above his head as he slowly starts to ride his cock. Sure he may be old but he’s still strong and he proves that by squeezing his grip around Lambert’s wrists, lets him know that he won’t be moving soon and will have bruises which won’t disappear until the next day, and he knows Lambert feels it too by the shudder that goes through him. It’s only when he gets a rushed apology from lambert and the promise to behave that he finally gives them both some relief and eagerly starts riding the other witchers cock. Even with their stamina he had been teasing and grinding and doing a whole manner of tricks for the last couple of hours in an effort to get Lambert to beg so it could almost be embarrassing how quickly they both come. He comes first and can already hear the old man joke on Lambert’s tongue, so with a couple rolls of his hips and a trick he learned decades ago in Novigrad he has Lambert coming soon after him, a dazed expression on his face as if he can’t quite believe it either.

Thankfully it’s not long before they’re hard again and he has a couple of more rounds where he gives riding Lambert his all and has the other witcher come a handful more times before he gives Lambert a bit more control, lets him dig his feet in and thrust up into him, the kind of mindless fucking where the goal is purely to get off and now it’s Lambert’s turn to get him to come over and over until the early hours of the morning. It’s then when they’re both sweaty and frankly gross given in how covered, and in Vesemir’s case, filled with come but Vesemir content that Lambert is more subdues now rolls them over so the younger witcher’s on top, lets him have complete control as they fuck one last time that night, coming together with small groans before Lambert cleans them both. Lambert is visibly different the next morning, still sarcastic and a bit of a brat, but tolerable, hell he even apologizes to Geralt for breaking his nose the day previous.

.

Geralt is very different in that he just wants to take all the time, or at least tries to. Often he will walk up and bend Vesemir over the table, either at breakfast or when he’s making decoctions to pull his pants down enough to slip a couple of slicked fingers into him. Some mornings he gives in, lets Geralt get away with the hasty prep and the brutal fucking afterward that leaves bruises on his hip from his fingers and on his neck from sharp teeth. Most of the time though he stops Geralt, makes him slow down, and strives to pleasure Vesemir rather than just himself and at least doing something more than just getting his dick wet.

So that’s how Eskel and Lambert find them most mornings, with Vesemir bent over the table and Geralt eagerly eating him, spit trailing down his neck with his cock out, hard and leaking precome over the floor whilst Vesemir insists they eat before training. Of course, he makes sure Geralt eats too, eventually, he pulls Geralt away and sits him in a chair, quickly taking his place on his lap and sinking onto his cock.

Slowly over breakfast, he’ll ride Geralt, feeding him bits of fruit or bread and cheeses, and only when Vesemir’s happy he’s had enough will he brace himself on the table and start eagerly riding Geralt, grinding his hips every now and then but snapping his hips up and down as he drives them both to orgasm. When he has a sheen of sweat covering him will Geralt grab his waist and start fucking up into him, the other two witchers having finished and cleaning up after breakfast until with a handful more thrusts and a hand on his cock first Vesemir comes over the table, the floor, even some on Geralt’s leg, but Geralt’s quickly following after and he lets the other witcher suck another mark onto his shoulder before he pulls away. He leaves Geralt to clean up their mess whilst he cleans up and gets ready for practice, because whoever would win their little bout would likely be fucking him over lunch.

.

Eskel is different in that he is so affectionate, eager to kiss and lick and worship every inch of him before slowly making love to him, because with him it never just felt like sex, it always felt like more. Sure time with all his pups were special but Eskel he felt like the center of the universe and it was heady having that sort of power.

The first few times the almost worship had been uncomfortable, at the end of the day he was still a witcher and he’s used to people being disgusted by him, and because of his age people were even less eager than brothels to be with him, no matter how much coin he offered.

However, one night when he made out with Eskel for literal hours, the younger witchers' hands roaming his back his sides, tracing his scars and turning away to kiss along his jaw or neck, made him breathless and desperate for the other man’s touch. Often times he has to direct Eskel otherwise they’d never get to having sex, sometimes he just lets the boy do what he wants whether that’s eating him out for hours, keeping his cock warm with his mouth, or just massaging across his whole body with firm but gentle fingers only to do it all again but with his mouth.

.

There are very few times where they all fuck Vesemir together. They all have different techniques and when they’d tried in the past they constantly fought over who got to fuck him, who got to kiss him, they would criticize each other on how they fucked when Vesemir really couldn’t care less he just wanted to get railed tbh, but decides it’s for the best, there’s still time to train them later. They work better on their own for now, occasionally two of them will team up on him and being split open on both ends is always wonderful.

During winter though they each chose a random day to be their birthday, they’re far too old and have been through far too much shit to remember their actual birthday, but for one day whoever’s birthday it is is king of the keep and essentially whatever they say goes. With Vesemir it’s always easy, it’s just bringing enough food into his room and the three of them for once fucking Vesemir any and every way he wants for days because that’s what he deserves with the last day culminating in having two of them in his ass and another in his mouth, they rotate every few rounds and honestly, Vesemir has never been so blissed out. Afterward though they all need to take a few days off not just from fucking but training as well to recover their strength.

[lovely-van]

beige - van mccann

You know you're beautiful But that ain't half the gold treasure in your soul that you got 'Cause I want it all With your fingers in my mouth, I fail to see your faults So please don't let me fall So please don't let me fall...  

- Beige by Yoke Lore

word count: 12k+ (yes i know but i’m not sorry)

notes: oh my god okay i love this story so much. based on a request where you and van are friends that fall in love but both don’t think the other feels the same way. not based technically on the song beige by yoke lore but i really love the song and it’s very cute and the meaning behind it is fucking amazing (definitely look it up on genius.com). anyway i really hope you like it and lmk what you think! enjoy :))

• • •

You met Van when you were nine. 

Of course, back then, he still went by Ryan. 

He was kicking a football around in his front lawn, right across the street from your own house. You were on the sidewalk in front of your house, scribbling designs on the concrete with chalk when you noticed him. 

You’d only moved in a few weeks earlier and hadn’t realized that you had a neighbor your own age. You giggled as he nearly tripped over the ball, trying to do some fancy trick. He huffed, trying to do the trick again and failing. “You’re not very good at that, y’know.”

His head shot up at the sound of your voice, looking around in confusion. His eyes locked on you and he shrugged. “I’m trying to learn!” he shouted from across the street.  

You stood up, wiping some chalk dust from your overalls and skipped across the street. “Here, it’s not that hard. I’ll help you.” He watched, his young face concentrated, as you showed him how to bounce the ball back and forth on your knees.

After a few minutes of trying it himself, he did it successfully. A grin spread across his face, cheeks flushed and dimples showing. “Wow, thanks,” he said. “My name’s Ryan. What’s yours?”

That was how it all started. 

You and Van soon became best friends. You spent everyday together, exploring your neighborhood, climbing trees, coming up with all kinds of games that stretched every part of your imagination. He attended a different school, public versus your private school that your mother insisted you go to. But you didn’t mind because as soon as he got home, he’d come running to your front door and knock on it, waiting there with the same cheesy grin every time. 

You made other friends throughout the years, some girls from school and he had friends from his own class but you were always each other’s closest friends. In the summer, you’d grab sleeping bags and flashlights and lay under the stars in his backyard. You’d talk for hours about what you wanted to be when you were older, how you couldn’t wait until you were big enough to drive a car or have your own house. 

•

You were eleven when you realized how special Van was. 

It was a sunny afternoon on a Saturday and you and Van were climbing trees in his backyard. It was late autumn, so the air was crisp and all the leaves had fully changed colors, ready to shrivel up and float down to the grass below at any moment. 

“Alright, just grab that branch right there,” he said, pointing to a tree branch a few inches above you. He was already much higher than you and guiding you to get to where he was. You dug your feet into the branch you were standing on to make sure it was sturdy, and you reached up, fingers just grasping the bark-

And then you were falling, falling and before you could even comprehend it, you hit the ground. You landed directly on your right leg and you screamed, the pain overwhelming you immediately.  

Van flew down the tree, jumping the last few feet. “Oh my God, are you okay?”

You shook your head quickly, biting your lip as hard as you could to try and hold back the tears that were stinging your eyes. 

“Okay, don’t worry I’m gonna go get someone. It’s gonna be okay,” he said quickly, rubbing your back and then sprinting toward his house.

Turns out you’d broken your leg in two places. You had to wear a cast for at least six weeks and you were extremely bummed that you couldn’t play the rest of your fall football season. You and Van were even on the same team, always carpooling to games together and messing around during tournaments. 

The day after you got your cast, you heard a knock on your bedroom door. You were lying in bed reading a book, feeling sorry for yourself when you saw Van peep his head in. “Hi,” he said with a small smile. 

“Oh, hi. What are you doing here? Don’t you have practice?” you asked as he sat down on the bed next to you. 

He shrugged. “I quit.”

“You quit? Why?” 

“I didn’t want to play without you.” 

•

You were thirteen when you shared your first kiss. 

You were both in your old treehouse, watching the sunset through the window. 

“Van?” you repeated, pondering it. He nodded, leaning his head back on the wood, a dreamy smile on his face. “How come?”

“Ryan’s so boring. I wanna be like Van Morrison, a rockstar and all that. So, Van, which is short for Evan - it totally works.” 

You nodded, your lips curling up into a smile. The sky was turning a purple-orange hazy color, your absolute favorite. You loved sunsets more than just about anything. If you were doing homework or watching TV or something, Van would toss rocks at your window, just like in the movies, to make sure you didn’t miss it. You’d always go outside and watch the sunset with him, usually from your backyard or even his roof if you were feeling brave enough.  

“Yeah, I like it. Very cool.” It fit the aesthetic that Van had been shaping for himself recently. Since becoming an official teenager, Van had taken it upon himself to descend fully into his ‘angsty’ phase. Well, as angsty as someone with the happy go-lucky demeanor that he held could be. 

He started wearing all black and jumpers with rips in them and buying only vinyls. He’d drag you to the local record store, sifting through them for hours and buying whatever he could with the money he’d earned from cutting lawns. You didn’t mind, though You loved the relaxed aura of the store, the faint noise of whatever Mr. Brown, the owner, was currently listening to in the background. You’d flip through records, listening to Van babble on about whatever new band he’d taken a liking to, fingers running over the worn cases. It was therapeutic, almost. 

“D’you think it’s weird that neither of us has had our first kiss yet?” He asked, turning and looking at you, eyebrows furrowed. 

You leaned forward, resting your crossed arms on your knees. “Um, I dunno. I hadn’t really thought about it. Do you think it’s weird?” 

Van shrugged, carving something into the wood floor with the pocketknife his father had given him for his last birthday. “Well, Joey and Simon both had theirs last year. And Henry Williams has kissed like, three girls. I feel like we’re the only ones who haven’t done it.”

His gaze was trained on whatever design he was making, bottom lip pulled between his teeth. You scanned over his face, the freckles dusting his cheeks, the scar in his eyebrow he’d gotten from a football match last year that was finally healing. He glanced up after a moment and locked eyes with you, waiting for your response. 

“I mean, I guess,” you replied. “A few of my friends have had theirs too, but they all had boyfriends. I don’t like any boys at my school,” you said, shaking your head, cringing at the thought. 

“Yeah, me either.”

“You don’t like any boys at your school?” you teased. 

Van laughed, kicking your foot lightly with his. “C’mon, you know what I mean. I don’t really like any girls right now and I feel lame without kissing anyone.” You paused, waiting to see what he was getting at it. “Sooo,” he said dramatically, dropping his pocket knife on the wood floor and mirroring your position, pulling his knees to his chest and resting his forearms on them. “Why don’t we just kiss?”

You wrinkled your nose. “What? Gross.”

He rolled his eyes, scooting closer to you so your knees were touching. “C’mon, let’s just do it to get it over with. We’re best friends so it doesn’t really matter.” His lips were curled up at the ends, hair wild as usual and you actually debated it. He was your best friend after all, and you figured it would be better than kissing some random boy during a game of spin the bottle or something. You were going to be in year nine soon, for God’s sake. 

“Okay, fine. But promise not to let things get weird between us after?” He nodded quickly, reaching his pinkie finger out.

“Promise,” he said, curling your finger around his. 

“Alright, then. What do we do?”

He shifted so he was cross legged and you did the same, both of your bare knees pressed up against each other. The sun was just barely above the horizon, only visible to you in the reflection of his eyes. “Uh... I think we just do it,” he said, not sounding too convincing. 

You swallowed as he wet his lips and leaned in, only a few inches away from you. You could see every detail of his face, every little scratch and imperfection of teenage skin. For the first time, you realized maybe he was kind of cute, like your mother always said. “It’s those little dimples he has,” she always said with a wide smile. This was coming from the woman who was convinced that you two would fall in love and get married someday. Yeah, right. 

He stared back at you, blinking slowly and licked his lips again. You would’ve felt uncomfortable normally, if it had been anyone else this close to you but, well, it was Van. 

“Close your eyes,” he whispered, his breath fanning across your lips. 

You took one last look at him and shut your eyes, your stomach doing jumps like you were about to board a roller coaster. He cleared his throat and you felt him shift and then his lips were on yours. He just kind of kept them there, neither of you moving, unsure of what to do. It felt weird and different and you were a little surprised at how soft his lips were. Did everyone’s feel like this? This is what people in movies feel like when they have their big first kiss, right as the music swells? It didn’t seem right. 

After a few seconds, you both pulled away and opened your eyes, blinking the blurriness away. You looked at the sharpness of his nose and the curl of his eyelashes and realized he still looked like the same old Van to you. 

“Huh,” he said after a moment, scooching back to his original spot against the wall of the treehouse. By now, his face was bathed in deep red shadows that were sure to turn to blue any moment once the stubborn sun descended past the tree line. 

“Huh,” you repeated, bringing your fingers to your mouth, running them over your bottom lip. “That was...”

“Weird?” he finished.

You shrugged. “No, just like, kind of boring, I guess. I don’t really get the big deal.” 

Van scratched the back of his neck, eyebrows furrowed. “Maybe we did it wrong?”

You laughed softly at first and then started laughed even harder, stuck in a fit of giggles. “What?” he asked with a grin, which just made you laugh harder. He started laughing with you, warm and loud, just like always. You howled with laughter, both nearly rolling around on the floor of the treehouse. You laughed for so long that by the time you were done, you forgot why you started in the first place. 

•

Age fourteen came with the band. 

You weren’t really sure how it started or why even, but suddenly Van was playing with one of his friend’s older brothers in their basement. He invited you to come along most times, rambling on about how excited he was about a new song they were learning or how good he was getting with guitar. 

You’d taught him to play originally, lending him the few notes your dad had taught you when you were small. He was entranced immediately, making you guide his fingers to every note you knew on the guitar that he’d saved up for for a year. And then he ran with it, learning every variation of every chord possible and spending nearly every waking minute playing in the basement of the B&B - much to his parents dismay. They scolded him and told him it was driving customers away which is probably how he ended up jamming with Billy, slowly learning a few of The Strokes’ easier songs. 

You loved tagging along to watch him play, even though all he and Billy did was strum on their guitars and sing in the basement that had really, really shitty acoustics. You knew Van was a good singer - he always had been, even though he was in the midst of puberty and was experiencing the dreaded voice cracks and hormones that came along with it. And he absolutely loved music. Listening to him sing was your favorite part of the day. You’d lean back on the couch, listening to the way his accent slipped away a little as he sang, stumbling over words and combining bits and pieces of various songs together. You knew music and you knew that he was good. 

“You’ve got quite beautiful eyes, y’know,” Van said one night, hours after his voice had given out from singing the same song over and over again in Billy’s basement. 

You elbowed Van in the ribs, nearly knocking him over. “Shut up, would ya? Brown eyes are ugly and you know it.”

You stared up at the sky, entranced by the constellations and bright stars that were out. You were both sitting cross-legged on the grass in a field a few minutes outside of your neighborhood, far enough that the lights from the houses couldn’t reach it. 

“No, ‘m telling you, yours are all big and soft and… warm, like honey.” You turned to look at him slowly, at the crooked grin on his face. You rolled your eyes, turning your gaze back on the stars. You wondered how they all fit up there in that big sky. It didn’t even seem possible, like they could fall out of it at any second and come crashing down to Earth. 

“Says the one with blue eyes. I’ve always wanted blue eyes,” you said with a dreamy sigh.

Van shook his head and laughed softly, throwing his head back and closing his eyes. 

You looked at him, blinking, and joined in laughing with him. “What?” you asked in between giggles. 

Van shrugged, only laughing harder, which made you laugh harder, too.

“I think… I think I’m just high,” Van said with a wide smile on his face. You nodded, tilting your head back and laughing again, the air visible from your mouth in the cold.

“Me too,” You said after a moment with a giggle. “Guess it worked?”

You and Van started smoking fairly regularly after that, usually leeching off of Billy or trading him with stolen cigarettes that your father rolled himself. You’d usually settle for Billy’s basement, passing around a joint or a bowl and listening as they played the songs that Van had slowly started writing, your brain fuzzy and soaking in every bit of it. 

•

Age sixteen came with first loves. 

“Mate, you know Abby Newman?” Billy asked one night, smacking Van on the chest lightly. He blinked, eyes half shut and red around the edges. 

“Hm, she’s a year ‘bove me, I think, so year younger than you, yeah?”

Billy smirked, taking a long hit of the joint in his hands. “Heard that she fancies you.” 

You snorted and Van shot you a dirty look, shoving you lightly. “Fuck off, would ya?” he said with a laugh, then turned back to Billy. “Abby Newman, huh?”

This is what kickstarted Van’s girl crazed phase. Through his delightful charm (or so he said), he managed to score a date with Abby. Within a few weeks, they were real-life boyfriend and girlfriend, holding hands at the diner you always went to, Abby finding a spot on Billy’s couch to listen to them practice, Van telling you about how they’d gone to second base - gross. 

At first, you were a little annoyed with Abby, her extra fragrant floral perfume and thick eyeliner being just a bit much but you learned to like her. Just as you were starting to consider her one of your own close friends, she and Van broke up. He wrote a sad song about her of course, actually probably 20 songs, but within a few weeks, he had a new girl in his lyrics. 

He never dated girls for longer than a month, if that, and you were never really sure why they broke up but it made for good song content, Van pouring his emotions out into his at first cheesy but then actually decent songs. 

While Van was experiencing the whirlwind that was adolescent females, you were finding your own first love in Matt. 

Matt was a year above you, seventeen and had this smile that dove you nuts. You’d go to his football games, cheering him on from the stands, Van usually by your side scribbling in his notebook or underneath the bleachers smoking a cigarette. 

You adored Matt. He was just so cool, always working on this old car that he already knew how to drive even though he didn’t even have his license yet, and giving you mix CDs with sappy love songs that you’d fall asleep listening to every night. 

Van wasn’t a huge fan of him but you figured he was just being his usual over protective self. You forced him to put on a smile and play nice, which he did for the most part. 

Matt bought you popcorn and paid for your movie tickets, held your hand tightly during the scary parts, took you to the beach when it got a little warmer, gave you goodnight kisses at your door that left you dizzy. 

You were sixteen and in love. Or you thought you were, at least. 

“Van,” you whispered into the phone, hand covering your mouth as you walked down the street on shaky legs. 

“Hey, what is it, love? You okay?” he answered quickly, voice thick from smoking or drinking. It was the night of your school’s formal and although he didn’t attend it, Van was probably winding down from the afterparty that one of your classmates had thrown - the party you should’ve just gone to after the dance. 

Instead, you were walking down a road you didn’t even recognize, in the dress you’d been dreaming about wearing for months, tears streaming down your face. 

“Yeah, I-” your voice cracked and you let out a sob. You crouched down in the street, head on your knees and cried, snot dripping from your nose. 

“Love,” Van whispered, his heart breaking for you. “Where are you?” 

You ended up in Van’s bed, curled up under his covers, wearing a pair of his joggers and your favorite sweatshirt that you always tried to steal from him. He placed a cup of tea down for you on his bedside table with just a bit of milk, exactly how you liked it, and sat on the edge of the bed. “You wanna talk about it?” he asked softly. 

You wiped some tears with the sleeve of his sweatshirt and took a shaky breath. “Um... I guess.” He reached out and grabbed your hand, the familiar feeling of his calloused fingers against yours relaxing you a little. “So basically... Matt and I had been planning on, um, having sex for the first time tonight, after the dance. Cliche, I know,” you sniffled, glancing you at Van. You’d expected him to shake his head or at least give you a disappointed look but his soft expression hadn’t changed. “And well, his parents were gone for the weekend... so we went to his house after the dance. And we were, like kissing and stuff and I realized that I just wasn’t ready, y’know? Like I just didn’t wanna do it then. So I told him that and he got really mad, telling me that he’d been waiting for this for months and how could I just decide all of the sudden I didn’t want to?” 

Van’s hand tightened around yours and you glanced up to see his jaw clenched. You took another shaky breath. “So... then I felt really bad and ended up just doing it.” Vans eyes widened and his mouth dropped open. 

“I’m gonna fucking kill him,” he muttered, shaking his head. 

You dropped your chin to your chest, closing your eyes. “There’s more,” you whispered. “After we were done, he, um, broke up with me and basically said he was just waiting for this so he could finally dump me.” Van pulled his hand away from you and you glanced up to see him pacing around his room. 

“Oh my god,” he mumbled to himself. “Oh my fucking God. What a piece of shit. Who the fuck does he think he is, doing that to you? To you of all people?” he voice cracked at the end of the sentence and he paused, running a hand down his face. “I’m gonna fucking murder him,” he said, reaching for his boots by the door. 

“Van, stop. Please,” you whispered, pulling your knees tighter to your chest. He paused immediately and looked down at you, face softening slightly. 

“But he can’t fucking do that. Do you know how messed up that is? I literally wanna go rip his fucking head off,” he hissed. You shook your head and when he saw your lip tremble, he dropped his boot and sat down on the bed next to you carefully. “Oh, Y/N,” he whispered, wrapping an arm around you. 

You bit your lip and leaned on his chest, a sob escaping your mouth when he pulled you close to him. You cried, full on, a waterfall of tears into his chest as he stroked your hair and rubbed your back gently, keeping you tucked into him. He shushed you softly, almost rocking you like a baby as you cried and cried on him.

After you had no tears left in you, you sniffled and cleared your throat. You were both lying down now, both of Vans arms around your waist and your head in his chest, arm across his stomach. “Uh, sorry about that,” you said with a soft laugh. 

He stroked his thumb across your arm. “Don’t ever apologize for that, yeah? I’m here for you, always. If you need to cry on me, I’ll gladly wipe your tears away,” he murmured in your ear. “But I still wanna fuckin’ kill him.”

You chuckled, burying your head into his chest. “I know. But please don’t, I don’t want you going to jail on my behalf.”

“I’ll do it. I’d do anything for you,” he whispered. You closed your eyes, breathing him in. He smelled a little different than usual, his cologne and cigarette smoke mixed with alcohol and weed from the party. But it comforted you nonetheless, because it was Van. “I love you,” he said, dropping a kiss on your forehead. 

“Love you too,” you replied softly, falling asleep as you thanked God for giving you Van as a best friend. 

•

You were seventeen when you started to get jealous. 

It was well known by you and your friends that Van was, well, a ladies man. He dated a lot of girls. He was always loyal to them of course, he’d never cheat, but his relationships were always short-lived and dramatic. He still paid more attention to you than any of his girlfriends, but one night when you texted him to come watch a movie, you were disappointed by his response.

To: vannn

heyyy come watch 500 days of summer w me plz i need a rom com and snuggles

To: my bestest friend

sorry love i got a date w sophie tonight her parents are gone for the weekend ;) tomorrow? xx

You looked at your phone for a moment, color rushing to your cheeks as you snapped it shut. It’s not like this was anything new - Van hadn’t done anything wrong, he was just spending time with his girlfriend. But it bothered you for some reason.  

The next day, when Van did actually come over to watch a movie as promised, you couldn’t help but roll your eyes when he started talking about Sophie. 

“Yeah, I dunno she’s nice and dead cute, honestly, but she is a little insane,” he said, shoving a handful of popcorn in his mouth. 

Your skin was probably green with envy when he mentioned something about her being good in bed. “Van, I don’t wanna hear that,” you replied, tossing a piece of popcorn at him. 

He turned his head and stuck his bottom lip out in a pout, looking at you with raised eyebrows. “Aw, someone a little jealous that I’m spending time with another girl?” he teased, eating the popcorn that had landed in his lap. 

You scoffed, shaking your head. “No.” 

Van chuckled and leaned toward you, wrapping his arms around you in a tight hug. “It’s okay, babe, you’ll always be my number one.” 

•

You were eighteen when you realized you were in love with him. 

It was your birthday and you were at a small pub watching him perform. You were leaning against the back wall, a beer in your hand as you watched. Van and Billy had found a bassist a while back and recently had even found a decent drummer. And they were good. 

You smiled as he thrashed around on stage, nearly knocking his microphone over and putting on a hell of a good show for the small crowd of people. They’d grown a bit of a following over the years and you could tell something big was coming for them soon. 

“I just wanna give a shout to someone very special to me.” You looked up at Van who was staring right back at you, a huge grin spread across his face as he spoke into the microphone at the finality of their last song. “This girl’s been there for me since the beginning, through all my shit. She’s the best friend I could ever ask for and I dunno what I did to deserve her. So happy birthday, Y/N. And thanks for everything.” 

Color sprung to your cheeks as everyone turned and looked at you, clapping and shouting happy birthday wishes. One of Van’s guy friends who you’d gotten to know pretty well, elbowed you in the side and shot you a wide smile. “Didn’t know it was your birthday. How old are you, then?”

But you didn’t respond because you hadn’t even picked up on what he was saying. You were still staring at Van, watching as he started packing things up on stage. 

Everything around you went quiet. You watched as he tilted his head back and laughed loudly at something Bob said and it sounded like goddamn angels singing to you. 

Holy shit. I’m in love with him, you thought. I’m fucking in love with him. How did I not realize this earlier?

It was like everything else in the background faded to black and white but he was in color, his blue eyes shining brightly as he approached you, brown hair darkened with sweat. He said something to you and you had to blink a few times, bringing your focus back.

“Sorry, what?” 

He laughed, shaking his head at you. “I asked if you wanted to get out of here, go for a drive, or somethin’. I gotta give you your birthday present,” he said with a mischievous smile. 

So there you were in the passenger seat of his dad’s car, windows rolled down, arm hanging out and cutting through the wind as you drove over a bridge, music blaring, and fuck, you were in love with Van. 

The lights from the city were bright and shining in the rear view mirror as the two of you sped away, leaving everything behind you. You stuck your head out of the window, feeling the wind on your face, a little buzzed from the beer you had been drinking earlier and a little high from the joint you’d smoked a few minutes prior and you threw your head back and whooped, unable to hold in your joy. 

Van was looking over at you, one hand on the steering wheel and a wide smile on his face. “What?” he questioned you with a laugh. 

You shook your head, unable to explain how you were feeling at that moment. You felt so full and warm and just downright fucking happy. Happier than you’d felt in a while. “I’m just… happy,” you said back, sticking your arm back out the window and letting your hair whip around in the wind. 

Van laughed, rolling his own window down and screaming along to the music with you.

He pulled over eventually, onto a side road in the middle of nowhere but left the car running. He turned the music down a little and cleared his throat. You watched as he rubbed his hands down his jeans, the corners of his mouth lifting in a smile. “What’s up?” you asked, rolling the window up and tilting your head towards him. “Ooh, do I get my present now?”

A laugh escaped him as he nodded. “Yeah, guess so. Or I could make you wait even longer.” 

You frowned, crossing your arms dramatically. “But Vaaan,” you whined, “it’s almost midnight. Then my birthday’s gonna be over.” 

His eyes shone in the darkness of the car, the moonlight washing over his features gently. “Alright, alright, quit your whining. Give me a second.” Van slipped out of the car and went around to the trunk and came back with a small box wrapped in newspaper. He held it in his hands for a moment as he sat in the driver’s seat, the windows around you fogging up just a bit from your breath. 

You waited patiently, heart beating a little faster. He licked his lips before he spoke, turning his head to look at you. “So I’ve been, uh… pretty bummed lately because you’re leaving soon. I was trying to think of a way to convince you to stay here with me and just become a roadie or something but I realized that there was no way I’d let you do that,” he said with a soft laugh. “You’re so fucking smart and I just… I know you’re gonna do big things at Oxford and after, too. It sucks that we’re gonna be apart but I’m hoping I can come visit.” He looked at you expectantly, eyes wide as if you were going to object to this. 

You nodded quickly. “Of course, yeah.” 

He smiled and looked out the window for a second, turning the present around in his hands. “Good, yeah. God, this is fucking awful,” he said after a moment, eyes going to his lap. “‘M gonna miss you so much. I mean… my best friend isn’t gonna be 10 steps from my front door anymore.” You bit your lip hard, blinking fast. You weren’t one to cry over just anything but you could feel tears stinging your eyes. And you weren’t ready to leave Van in a few days at all.

You’d applied to Oxford on a whim, fully expecting to end up at one of the smaller universities near your hometown that would be within driving distance so you could still live at home.

When you got your acceptance letter, you were shocked. Van hadn’t been surprised at all, saying he knew all along that you’d get in. It took you up until the last day possible to make the decision. Ultimately, you knew you’d hate yourself if you didn’t pick Oxford. And Van would probably resent you for life if you stayed living at home. Plus, he’d dropped out of school a while ago anyway and who knew what he’d be doing once Catfish got signed. 

He laughed softly, clearing his throat. “But anyway, I’m so happy for ya. I’m not happy about us being three and a half hours away from each other... but I’ll live. And I guess I should finally give this to you, yeah?”

He handed the present over across the console, your fingers brushing as you took it from him. “I can see you wrapped it yourself,” you said with a chuckle, inspecting the newspaper. 

Van rolled his eyes playfully. “Alright, shut up and open it.”

You tore the paper carefully, holding your breath as you pulled the paper back to reveal a small box. You lifted the top off and peered inside to see a CD case. You pulled it out and examined the front to see a handwritten tracklist - Van’s messy script, specifically, but there were no artists listed. “Oh, you made me a mix?” you asked softly, beaming at him. 

He shook his head slightly. “Well, not exactly. Um, they’re all my songs.” You gasped, looking back at the tracks. 

“That’s amazing,” you murmured. 

“And uh, well, they’re all songs about you.” You paused, making sure you heard him correctly, and turned back to look at him. He was staring right back at you, bottom lip tugged between his teeth.

“Songs about me?” you whispered. “I didn’t know you wrote about me.”

He laughed softly, pointing at the top of the list of songs. “Of course I do. How could I not? They’re kind of… in chronological order too, like from when I first met you to now.” You pulled the CD case to your chest, leaning over and wrapping your free arm around Van’s neck. 

“Oh my God, thank you,” you mumbled as he tucked his arm around your waist, his chin on top of your head. 

“There’s more, y’know,” he said as you pulled away, pointing at the box. You lifted some tissue paper to reveal a thick stack of notebook paper that was folded together carefully in a square. When you pulled it out, something fell out of the paper. 

“Shit,” you muttered as you lifted your legs off the seat, trying to find it. You switched a light on inside the car and spread your fingers across the fabric of the seat until you felt something cold. You grabbed it carefully, placing it in your palm and you gasped upon realization. “Van,” you whispered. 

It was his father’s necklace, the one he’d worn ever since you were both small. He’d started wearing it when he was only about seven or eight, he told you. You’d never seen him without it. 

You looked over at him and sure enough, the small chain that usually adorned his neck was gone. He licked his lips, eyes scanning your face. “I… I can’t take this from you,” you said, reaching for his hand to give the necklace back to him. 

He held his hands up in defense and shook his head. “I want you to have it. So you don’t forget about me,” he said quietly. 

Your chest tightened. Forget about Van? That would be impossible. You’d spent your life watching him grow up, been there for each other through every heartbreak, every family problem, every low moment. You were in love with him, for God’s sake. How could you not be? He was the funniest, most thoughtful, kindest person you’d ever met. And he thought you’d forget about him?

“I could never forget about you,” you whispered, voice cracking. Your eyes started watering again and you looked at your lap, turning over the delicate gold chain in your hands. 

“Let me put it on you.” You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat as you handed it to him carefully and turned to face your window. He leaned over the console and brushed your hair to the side, his hands against your neck eliciting goosebumps from your skin. He unclasped it and wrapped it around your neck slowly, his fingertips nearly leaving burn marks wherever they touched. He ran a hand down your hair, smoothing it carefully and hovering there for a moment before leaning back in his seat. “Looks better on you,” he said with a small smile.

The feeling in the pit of your stomach had not dissipated. You felt incredibly nervous but also still at ease and you were trying to figure out how that was even possible. But it was because you were alone in a car in the middle of nowhere with Van, your best friend of almost a decade who you were also utterly in love with, staring at him with only the soft hum of The Shins in the background. “Also, that’s um, a letter I wrote you,” he said softly, looking at the folded up paper in your hands. You started to unfold the paper until he interrupted you. “No, no, could you just wait to read it? Like, until you get to Oxford?”

You felt dizzy at this point, only moments away from having to press your forehead against the car window and catch your breath. What was in the letter?

“Uh, yeah, sure,” you whispered, tucking the note into the pocket of your jacket. “Van, I… thank you so much. You don’t know how much all of this means to me,” you said. He was pleased by your reaction, a small smile stuck on his lips as he stared at you. 

“Of course. You deserve it,” Van responded softly. “Come ‘ere.”

You leaned forward again and wrapped both of your arms around his middle tightly, tucking your head into his chest. He slid both his arms around your neck, one going to the back of your head and holding you tightly. You sat there like that for a while, feeling how warm he was against you, breathing in his scent that never seemed to change, the cologne he’d stolen from his father when he was younger with the addition of cigarette smoke in the last couple of years. He felt so solid and safe and at that moment, you realized that leaving for Oxford was probably going to be the hardest thing you’d done so far in your life. Van stroked your hair gently, holding you so tight to him, not caring about the awkward position you were in over the center console or that The Shins CD was starting over for the third time. 

You pulled away after a few minutes, forehead pressed to his. It was so dark you couldn’t see anything but the lightness of his eyes. I’m in love with you, you wanted to say. I’m so fucking in love with you it hurts. I want to wake up to you in my bed every morning and I want to dance around the kitchen with you in the middle of the night and I want to have babies with you and grow old together. 

You couldn’t bring yourself to say any of these things. You were leaving in less than a week and then you’d be across the country from him. You didn’t want to risk losing him or fucking things up before you left. You’d just realized how you felt about him and you were pretty sure that he didn’t feel the same way about you but you’d rather just live not knowing for sure - it was less painful that way. You wanted to remember him exactly this way - warm and happy and just Van. 

“I love you,” you whispered, “and I’m gonna miss you so fucking much. But you’ll always be my best friend, y’know?” 

•

It was near the end of your first term when Van finally came to visit you. 

It was a Friday afternoon and you had your nose in a book, studying for an exam you had coming up when your phone rang. 

You flipped it open and grinned. “Van!” you yelled excitedly, slamming your book shut and jumping out of your desk chair. 

He chuckled through the phone at your excitement. “Hi, love. I think I’m here but ‘m not quite sure where to go, honestly. Can ya come find me?”

There he was, a backpack slung over one shoulder, sunglasses on his face, wearing a huge smile. You sprinted toward him and nearly knocked him over with a hug, wrapping your arms around him tightly. 

“Hi,” you said when you pulled away, beaming. 

“Hi,” he replied, giving you that infamous crooked grin. 

“So this is my friend Hallie’s room and my other friend Olivia’s room is right there and, oh that’s Charlie’s at the end of the hall,” you said, speeding down the hallway, Van trailing behind you. He seemed to be in awe of everything, mouth hung open and staring at every room you passed. “And this is my room.” You shut the door behind you and leaned against the wall, watching as he inspected the small room. “Like it?” you asked nervously.

He turned and looked at you, a smile spread across his face. “This is amazing,” he said. “This whole place is so fuckin’ cool and all of your pictures in here and your records, wow,” he murmured, scanning over the hundreds of pictures you’d taped to your walls. Of course, he was in most of them. You beamed at him, plopping down on your bed as he looked out your window, admiring the view of the city outside. 

“So did ya miss me?” he asked, sitting down next to you, bumping your shoulder with his. 

“No, I’ve been just great without you,” you said with a laugh. “Yes, of course I missed you! It’s been, like…”

“Three months?” he finished for you. 

You sighed, scanning over his face. It had been only three months but it felt like so much longer. He looked older to you, his hair a little longer and some stubble growing in. His eyes still had the same twinkle and you couldn’t help but lean forward and hug him again tightly. 

“Three months too long,” you mumbled into his chest as he chuckled, hugging you back and rubbing his hand down your back.

“I know, darlin’. But what do you have planned for me this weekend? Gotta get the whole university experience, yeah?”

Naturally, you took him to a party later that night. It wasn’t overly huge or anything, just a casual thing that your friend Hallie’s older sister was throwing at her house a few blocks away from where you lived. 

Van was thriving in the party atmosphere, of course. Girls were eyeing him up left and right, offering him drinks and touching his shoulder. He was eating it up, not used to so much attention. He was telling a group of people about the band and how they’d recently won a music competition and they were all close to drooling. 

“Your boyfriend’s so cool,” someone next to you said. You turned and looked, seeing it was a girl who lived down the hall from you but whose name you could never remember. Van looked at you through the crowd of people, shooting you a wink as you shook your head and laughed at him. 

“I know right?” you replied, not even bothering to correct her. 

“I love college. I love it!” Van shouted to no one in particular a few hours later as the two of you stumbled down the street, his arm slung around your shoulder and yours around his waist. 

You giggled, holding him tightly to make sure you didn’t trip over anything. “Van, be quiet,” you shushed as you guided him up the stairs and down the hall to your room. You rolled your eyes, laughing as he said ‘hello’ to a few people in your hall and pushed him into your room. He collapsed on your bed, lying on his back and staring at the ceiling. “I’m serious. I love this place. I could never leave,” he said, eyes wide. 

You sat down on the edge of the bed next to him, patting his chest. “I know. I love it, too.” 

Soon you were curled up in your tiny bed, limbs tangled together and fighting over blankets like you were sixteen again. His arm was around you, thumb stroking over your shoulder. “So you got a boyfriend?” he asked teasingly. 

“Ha no, no time for that yet. I’ve been so busy with school I can’t even think about finding a boyfriend,” you replied with a laugh. “What about you? How’s the girl situation?”

Van shrugged gently. “Eh, dunno. I’ve been seeing this girl Lily for a bit but I don’t really think it’ll go anywhere. She’s a bit full on.”

You’d become pretty good at hiding your jealousy, pushing it down inside of you and putting on a smile. You knew that his relationships never lasted and you really had no right to be jealous anyway but the thought of him doing anything with another girl made you sick to your stomach. 

You chatted for a while, voices hushed and words getting more drawn out until you could tell he was asleep. You laid there, head on his chest, feeling his heartbeat and listening to him breathe and you were just so fucking thankful that he was real and he was alive and here in your room. 

As you laid pressed up against him, not ready to fall asleep just yet, you thought of the letter he’d written you before you left for school. 

It took you until your third night at Oxford to read it, as you’d been so busy with unpacking and making new friends you didn’t have time. 

You’d flipped the lamp on next to your bed and unfolded the paper carefully. You read it slowly, taking in every word, every metaphor, every long description and then read it again. He really did have a way with words. You cried, of course, because it was fucking beautiful. He wrote about what your friendship meant to him and how he was so thankful he’d gotten to watch you grow over the years into the person you were now. He mentioned little details about you that you’d never even noticed and wrote about some of the bigger things you’d experienced together and what it was like from his perspective. 

The final paragraph is what really sent you over the edge. 

And now, you’re going off to do such fucking wonderful things. I can’t believe I’ve been lucky enough to know you. Just the other day I was talking to Larry about you, and how I was going to miss you and everything and he said to me “Mate, she’s special. People like that don’t come around in life twice.” And he was right. I might end up traveling around the world with the band, visiting different countries and meeting thousands of people. But none of them will compare to you. To your heart, your kindness, your passion to change the world. So I guess, I just want to thank you for being you and thank God for putting you in my life. I don’t know what I did to deserve you. 

You’re the best friend I ever could’ve asked for. I love you and I always will. 

Love, Van xx

•

You were twenty when you met Ethan. 

It was the beginning of your third year at Oxford and he was in your Calculus class. He introduced himself on the first day and whispered jokes to you about the lecturer throughout the whole class, making you burst out laughing at one point and get scolded by the girl sitting next to you. 

He followed you out of the lecture hall, asking you to coffee right away. While you were drinking coffee, he asked you to come to a party with him later that night. At the party, he asked you to dinner the next night. 

Within weeks you were inseparable. Ethan was witty and bright and kept you on your toes at all times. You studied together almost every night and it especially helped that he was a genius when it came to math. 

“So you’re just using Green’s Theorem to set up a double integral to find the area of this region,” he’d say. 

“I have to use whose what to find where?” 

He’d roll his eyes and laugh, then explain the whole thing to you again. 

You went to parties together and out to clubs sometimes, spending all night laughing and dancing together. You called your mother, giddy about your new romance and you could tell she was uncertain about Ethan. “Sweetie, are you sure about him? I mean he sounds nice and all, but… what about a certain someone back home?” 

You’d never officially told your mother about your secret love for Van but of course she knew. Ever since you were little, she constantly told you that you and Van would be perfect together and would end up married with kids someday. And when she started to pick up on your real feelings for him, that maybe you did want to be more than friends, you could tell your mother really, really wanted something to finally happen between you and Van. “Mum,” you’d scolded her over the phone, “you need to drop that, okay? I like Ethan. He’s gonna be good for me.”

When first term was over, Ethan invited you to come to his family’s house for the holidays and spend Christmas with him. You declined politely, as you hadn’t seen your parents in ages and desperately wanted to go home for a bit, enjoy the cold weather from the comfort of your childhood home. In the last few weeks, Ethan had become a little full on, as well, so you were glad to get some space from him. And maybe there were other reasons, too. 

As you rode the train home, looking out at the snow falling through the frozen window, you thought about Van. 

You hadn’t seen him in months. Catfish had recently gotten signed and they were busy recording their first EP so you rarely saw him last summer before you had to return to Oxford. You talked on the phone occasionally, but you were both so busy that you had little time to call each other. 

And fuck, did you miss him. 

Your heart ached for him when you arrived home, his house looking the exact same. You pictured him running across the street to beg you to come play hide and seek in the woods nearby or to convince you to go swimming in the lake a few blocks away. When your parents took you out to dinner, all you could see was him. Him sitting at the booth you always used to share when you had late night munchies, him waiting for the bus down the road before school, him knocking over that stop sign when he was first learning to drive. 

You thought about calling him but every time you clicked on his contact name, you couldn’t bring yourself to go through with it. What if things had changed between you? What if he was too busy with the band? 

You’d been home for three days when you heard a noise at your window. You paused, trying to figure out if you imagined it and shrugged, turning back to the book you were reading. After a moment, you heard the noise again. You folded over the corner of the page you were on and set the book down on your bedside table. You shuffled over to your window and jumped when you heard the tap again, then pulled your shades back. Through the frost, you could make out the figure of a person on the ground below. You carefully slid the window open and stuck your head out, rubbing your arms from the cold. 

“Hey!” 

It was Van, throwing rocks at your window, a smile on his face, just like when you were young.

Your heart swelled. “You wanna let me in? It’s cold as fuck out here!”

Van rubbed his hands together and blew on them, trying to warm himself up as you set a cup of tea next to him on your nightstand. “Thanks, love,” he said with a warm smile. 

“So how’ve you been? Can’t believe you guys finally have a record deal and everything. I mean you’ve been working for this for so long,” you said, pulling a blanket over both of you.

“Fuck, I know right? It’s been insane, just absolutely mad. I mean to hear my own songs actually recorded, not just on the shitty mic I have in my room? It’s fucking amazing,” Van replied, shaking his head in amazement. 

He shot into stories about their manager and the stress over which songs would go on the B side and you could tell he fucking loved it. His eyes were shining so bright, hands waving around as he spoke, a wide smile never leaving his face. Van was absolutely in love - in love with music and his band, and you realized you were in love, too. 

But not with music - you were in love with him still. 

“You glad to be home? It’s not quite as exciting as Oxford, eh?” he asked, taking a sip of his tea. 

You laughed softly, shrugging. “Maybe not as exciting but I like coming back here, especially since it’s almost Christmas. I love seeing mum and dad and it makes me… nostalgic you know. Reminds me of being little and running around with you,” you said, bumping his shoulder with yours. 

He nodded in agreement, lips curling up in a smile. “Can you believe we’re twenty now? Christ, I feel so fucking old,” he said with a laugh. 

“Oh, I know right. I feel like school is just flying by and I dunno, I have no fucking clue what I want to do when it’s over,” you replied, sighing. 

“You’ll figure it out. You always do. You’re dead smart and so passionate about so many things that I can’t imagine you’ll have any trouble finding a job after you graduate,” Van said softly. 

You looked over at him, biting your lip and wanting to cry a little. He always knew what to say. You’d been so stressed over the last year about your grades and about potentially going to medical school but you weren’t even sure if you wanted to, that Van saying this made you feel infinitely better. 

“Thanks, Van. I’ve missed you so much, y’know.”

He wrapped an arm around you, bringing you close to him and dropping a kiss on your forehead. “I missed you, too, love. It’s been hard without you.” 

You took a little satisfaction in knowing that he missed you as much as you missed him. You had your doubts of course, him being a big rock star now and you feared that maybe things had changed since you’d last seen him. 

“I was worried you’d forget about me,” you said softly, looking up at him. He blinked a few times, eyebrows furrowed. 

He shook his head and whispered, “I could never forget about you.” His flickered down to your neck and the gold chain you hadn’t taken off in years. 

You bit your lip, unable to contain the smile on your face. 

“You wanna go for a walk?” he asked after a moment. 

So though it was freezing and flurries were coming down, you found yourself walking the same streets you’d biked around on when you were young. 

You had your face buried in a scarf, hands shoved in your pockets because of course you’d forgotten your mittens, as you walked down the street with Van. 

It was dark out now, so the sky was hazy and everything was quiet from the snow. You were shivering and looked over at Van to see if he was the same, but he looked fine, no scarf, no mittens, no hat and just a light jacket on. “Aren’t you cold?” you asked, teeth chattering. 

He turned and looked at you with an eyebrow raised. “Not really. You?” You turned off the road you’d been walking on and wordlessly entered a park that you’d played at countless times. Visions of young Van sliding down the slide or swinging as high as he could flashed through your head. 

You nodded quickly, pulling your hands out of your pockets to rub them together. Van led you to a bench and sat. “Here,” he said, reaching out for your hands. You sat next to him, pressed up against each other, and he took your hands in his much larger ones, rubbing some warmth into them. He brought your hands to his mouth, blowing hot air on them. Your heart started to race and you felt like a teenager again. 

“Better?” he asked, pulling your hands away from his mouth but not letting go, resting them on his lap. 

You nodded, lips curled up in a smile. The tip of his nose was a little red and he looked adorable. 

“So your mum told me the other day that you’ve got a new boyfriend.” Oh, fuck. Since being home and especially being with Van, you’d kind of forgotten about Ethan. 

“Oh, yeah, Ethan. We’ve been together for just a couple months,” you said with a small smile. Van nodded but didn’t return your smile, turning and looking across the park, snowflakes falling and nestling onto his hair. He looked older, circles visible under his eyes probably from long nights spent perfecting songs and early mornings at the recording studio. You were positive he’d grown since you last saw him - he’d seemed like a giant when you’d been walking together. “But I dunno, I don’t really know if he’s the one, y’know?” 

When Van turned back to you, he looked nine years old again. Small and vulnerable and clueless about the world. 

He looked down at his lap, at your intertwined fingers, and licked his lips before his eyes flicked back up to yours. “Y/N… Can I tell you something?”

Your breath hitched in your throat before you nodded slowly. Van cleared his throat and turned your hand over, running his thumb along all the lines. He scratched your palm gently, just like he knew you liked, before intertwining your fingers again. “Uh, wow, I have no idea where to even start. I’ve had this planned in my head for fucking years and now it’s real and I… I don’t even know what to say,” he muttered, eyes wide as they stared into yours. 

“What do you mean?”

He laughed softly, his thumb stroking over the back of your hand. He brought your hand up to his mouth again and kissed your knuckles gently. 

“I’m in love with you.” Your ears were ringing and you blinked slowly, wanting to pinch yourself in the leg to make sure you weren’t dreaming. “I’m so fucking in love with you. And I can’t believe it’s taken me this long to say it because God, I’ve known it since I was fifteen and you fell asleep on my shoulder in Bobby’s basement one time but I was always too scared to tell you. Scared because I knew you didn’t feel the same way and I was worried you’d get weird around me which is fucking dumb because, well, you’re you and you’re the best person I know so it would’ve been fine,” he said with a soft laugh. “I wanted to tell you before you went off to Oxford, too, but I knew it was a bad idea because we were gonna be so far apart and I didn’t want it to ruin our friendship or anything, y’know? But now I hear that you have a boyfriend and I probably shouldn’t even be telling you because that’s kind of a shitty thing to do, but I dunno. I couldn’t keep it in anymore,” he finished, shrugging like he’d just said something completely minuscule to you. 

He reached up and rubbed his thumb under your eye and you didn’t even realize you’d started crying. 

Van was in love with you. He was in love with you and had been for years. All those years that you thought he didn’t feel the same, that he was just a really good friend. After you’d read his letter when you first started at Oxford, feeling a little crushed that he hadn’t confessed his love for you, you were positive that you’d never be more than friends. 

Van, your best friend of eleven years, the boy who’d grown into a man in front of your very eyes, was in love with you too. 

You couldn’t believe it. 

“Oh my God,” you mumbled. “Oh my God. This is real?” He nodded, his face full of confusion. 

You’d spent years dreaming of this. Lying on your bed at Oxford, staring at the ceiling, willing there to be some way the universe could work its magic and make Van love you back. Apparently, the universe listens. 

“Van... I’m in love with you, too.” He sighed gently, eyes locked on yours. “I have been forever. And I didn’t wanna tell you either because I thought you didn’t feel the same way,” you said with a small laugh of disbelief. “Fuck, I can’t believe this is actually happening. I spent so much time wishing you’d feel the same way as me but I honestly thought you never would. And God, I wanted to tell you so bad but I was just so scared. You’re really in love with me?” you whispered, biting your lip. 

He nodded, bringing his finger to your chin and tilting your face to look up at him. You could see every detail of his face in the soft lighting, the freckles that dusted across his nose, the ever so faint scar from that football match so long ago, the curl of his eyelashes. You thought of when you were thirteen and you had stared at him before having your first ever kiss, how much he looked like that young boy right now.

“Of course I’m in love with you. It’s always been you,” he whispered, his thumb stroking across your cheek. Your heart was beating so fast you were worried it would pop out of your chest. 

You sighed softly, scanning over Van’s face, the snowflakes that had accumulated on his hair, the sparkle in his eyes, the redness of his cheeks. He was in love with you. 

“Think we can try that whole kissing thing again?” he asked after a moment, with a small smile. “Might be better now than it was when we were kids.” 

You laughed, nodding as he leaned forward and rested his forehead on yours. You reached up and wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him close to you to make sure he was real and that this was actually happening. 

“I love you,” Van whispered, his breath ghosting across your lips, the edges of his eyes crinkled because of how hard he was smiling. 

And yeah, it was safe to say this kiss was better than the one you’d shared at age thirteen. 

•

You were twenty four when you got married. 

It was a nice autumn day, a slight chill in the air but the sun was still shining bright. 

As you waited for your cue to walk down the aisle, your heart beating faster than you knew possible, you thought of the last time you’d seen Van. It was yesterday morning, when you woke up to him pressing soft kisses on your cheeks, your nose, your forehead. 

“Van, what are you doing?” you’d groaned, not wanting to wake up. 

He scattered a few more kisses down your face and then giggled - giggled - against your neck as he brought his fingers to your sides, tickling you gently. “Van!” you squealed, opening your eyes to see him hovering above you with that crooked grin. 

“I needed to wake you up,” he said. 

You looked up at him, blinking the blurriness away, at his messy hair and sleepy eyes. It had to have been early still, dawn lighting streaming in through your window onto his face. “Why?” you asked with another groan. 

“Because I looove you and we have so much shit going on today and then we don’t get to be together tonight so I wanna enjoy the time we have this morning,” he replied softly. 

You brought your hand up to his cheek, stroking your thumb across a dimple and pulled his mouth to yours. He smiled even wider into the kiss, morning breath and teeth clinking together and all. 

You loved Van a little extra in the mornings. He was even more affectionate than usual, running his hands over every part of your body, wanting to be the little spoon, begging you to stay in bed for just a little longer. 

He snuggled on top of you, arms around your waist and head nuzzled into your neck as you scratched his scalp gently. “We’re getting married tomorrow,” he mumbled. 

You sighed softly, lips curling up in a smile. “I know. God, I’m so excited.” 

He pulled away slightly, resting his forehead on yours. You couldn’t see anything but the lightness of his eyes. “Me too,” he whispered. “Been waiting for this for a long fuckin’ time.” He kissed you gently, then rested his head on your chest, your hands going back up to tangle through his hair. 

“I love you.” 

“I love you, so fucking much.” 

As you rounded the corner, you took one last deep breath and looked up. Everyone was standing, staring at you with wide smiles and hands pressed to their hearts. The music was playing softly in the background, white twinkling lights everywhere, the flowers absolutely perfect. You were thankful your father was leading you, his arm tightly around yours because otherwise, you probably would have stopped dead in your tracks while walking down the aisle when you saw Van. 

He was waiting at the altar, looking fucking amazing in his black suit, and he was crying. Tears were streaming down his face and his hand was covering his mouth as he shook his head in awe. 

Your dad kissed your cheek and whispered that he loved you and took his seat next to your mum in the crowd.

When you reached Van, you grabbed his hands tightly, grinning at him as his eyes looked you up and down and then straight into your own eyes. His face was wet with tears and his lip was nearly bleeding from biting it so hard. 

“Hi,” you whispered, tears stinging at your own eyes. 

He laughed softly, shaking his head again in disbelief. “Hi. God, you look fucking beautiful.” 

•

You were twenty seven when you had your first child. 

You’d woken up in the middle of the night, eyes widening immediately as you shook Van awake. He had just gotten back from a short tour the night before, and he’d been absolutely exhausted. But he knew you were due soon and there was no way he was missing the birth of his first kid. 

“Hm?” he mumbled, not waking up. 

“Van,” you hissed, shaking his shoulder again. “It’s happening.” 

He opened his eyes and blinked, looking up at you. You nodded quickly, trying hard not to freak out too much. “Oh my God,” he said, shooting up and stumbling out of bed to find the bag you’d packed a while ago. “Oh my God, fuck, oh my God.”

The whole drive to the hospital, Van checked in on you constantly, making sure you weren’t in too much pain, driving as fast as possible, squeezing your hand tight. He had a playlist on his phone for this very moment - because honestly, he had a playlist for everything - and he put it on, trying to keep you relaxed as it played softly in the background. “We’re gonna have a fucking baby,” he muttered, glancing over at you in the passenger seat and laughing softly. “Christ.” You laughed too and then started to cry of course, because your hormones were a fucking disaster. “Hey, it’s gonna be okay, love. You can do this, yeah? Never been anything you can’t do.”

“She’s fucking beautiful,” Van whispered, tears running down his face as you laid in the hospital bed together later, both of you holding your new baby girl. You were exhausted and in a lot of pain, your face sticky with sweat but you didn’t care. You nodded, resting your head on Van’s shoulder as you started crying with him. “Looks just like you,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. 

“We’re parents, Van,” you said after a moment. “Holy fuck, are we ready for this?”

Van snorted, shrugging gently. “Probably not but we’ll figure it out, yeah? We always figure it out.” You sighed happily, leaning up and pressing a kiss on his lips. 

“God, I love you,” you whispered, dropping your head back to his shoulder. “Now, what are we gonna name her?”

•

You were thirty-three when you realized your mother had been right all along. 

It was a cold, snowy day in the middle of December. You were cozy in bed, still half asleep, Van’s arm tight around you as you laid on his chest, blankets pulled up over you. 

You were about to fall fully back asleep when you heard your door swing open. You heard some whispering and soft giggles and suddenly, you and Van were being attacked. 

“Wake up, wake up, wake up!” Van groaned loudly as you opened your eyes, seeing your two children jumping up and down on your bed. They giggled, launching themselves on top of you and hugging you. “Wake up, please!” they begged, Mary sitting on Van’s chest and Leo bouncing up and down on top of you. 

You rubbed your eyes, laughing softly at them. “What are you two doing?” you groaned, pulling Leo down into a hug. 

Leo laughed as he hugged you back, burying his face in your neck. “We wanna go play in the snow, please, please?” he begged in his small voice. 

Van mumbled something incoherent as Mary poked his cheek. “Daddy, wake up,” she said with a giggle. You glanced over to see Van with his arms covering his face, clearly not ready to be awake. 

“I don’t think Daddy is ready to wake up,” you said with a laugh, reaching up to press a kiss to Leo’s nose. Leo squirmed off of you and joined in the assault on Van, pulling his hands off his face and pressing his forehead to Van’s. 

“Daddy, pleeease,” he whined, giggling. Van groaned loudly again, before opening his eyes and immediately wrapping his arms around Mary and Leo, pulling them both onto his chest. 

“You’re killing me,” he mumbled, voice scratchy. “Daddy needs to sleep.” 

You laughed, squeezing up tight to your family and resting your head on Van’s shoulder. “Daddy does need his sleep. Especially after last night,” you said with a smirk. Van chuckled as Mary started tugging on his hair and Leo wiggled to get out of his grip. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” Van started to tickle both of them, making them scream with laughter as they squirmed around your bed, limbs flying everywhere as they tried to escape him. 

“Okay, okay, we’ll have breakfast and then we can go outside. You can go watch some TV while I get your Daddy up,” you said with a laugh as Mary and Leo jumped off the bed, racing into the living room. 

Van chuckled, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you onto his chest. “They’re mad,” he said, shaking his head.

“They are, yeah,” you replied with a soft laugh. “But I love ‘em.”

“Love ‘em to pieces.” Van ran his hand down your arm slowly, before reaching his hand down to your jaw and tilting your face up to look at him. His eyes were sleepy still, his hair a mess. “And I love you, Mrs. McCann,” he whispered. 

You smiled back up at him, feeling giddy as ever as he leaned down and kissed you slowly, smiling against your lips. You pulled away after a moment and stared into his eyes, wondering how the hell you got this lucky. “I love you more.” 

Turns out your mother was right all along about the whole marrying Van and having babies with him. 

You never would’ve imagined this at nine when you met him for the first time or at thirteen when you had your first kiss or even when you were eighteen and you realized you were in love with him. It seemed too good to be true.

But it was real. Van was real and you loved him more and more every day, still asking yourself how someone as perfect as him could exist. Van, who had become the best father in the world, crying to you at night sometimes because he loved his children so much and was worried about what the world would do to them. Van, who dedicated every album to you and had to call you every night while he was on tour because he couldn’t sleep without hearing your voice. Van, who made sure to send you flowers at work once a month, who you got to spend the rest of your life with, who left a note on your bedside table with a different reason why he loved you every single morning. 

And God, did you love him too.  

• • •  

[bessmarvins]

So, you guys got a preview of this thanks to the challenge that @knockoutqueenoftheunderworld tagged me in. It’s been sitting in my drafts for months almost finished and I think it’s rambly and just ajgwjaoig i’ve been debating on whether or not to even post it but I don’t want to put anymore energy into it. I just want to throw it out into the void lol so here ya are: another chapter of my lil ficlet series (first installment here) ok thank you goodnight happy belated birthday @ladylindaaa 

Nancy rubbed her eye, leaning over her case notes on the floor of Frank and Joe’s room in the sleeping car. She twirled a thin lock of her red hair around a long finger and titled her head, staring intently at the letter Lori had given her. She had to squint in the dim light of the bedside lamp, her slightly unkempt brows furrowed. She trailed her pencil across the paper, following every line, silently mouthing the letter word for word. 

Frank noticed all of these things. He noticed everything about her. He noticed the pea-sized beauty mark next to her eye, he noticed the chipped maroon polish on her nails, he noticed the way her breath sped up and slowed back down again as she tried to decode the letter. He was trying so hard to stop noticing. He couldn’t help it. Something kept his eyes glued on her, from the moment they met at Union Station.

The truth was he had noticed her long before that. He had always had a crush on Nancy, not that he’d admit it to anyone. Especially not Joe, who caught on fast and teased him mercilessly for it. He was always eager to answer her calls, excited to talk through her cases with her. He loved hearing the awe in her voice when she figured out a clue and the gratefulness in it when he and Joe (somehow) managed to be of help to her. 

She was so god damn smart. Frank could hear the gears turning in her mind over the phone. He was convinced she didn’t need him and Joe--she could have called anyone to use as a sounding board for her ideas and figured it out on her own. She usually chose to ask their opinions anyway, and Frank was more than happy to oblige.

But since they met for this case, it’s begun to feel less like just a crush. He and Nancy (and, admittedly, his brother) had formed a sort of bond. They quickly found their rhythm together working the case and Frank thoroughly enjoyed their dynamic. It was exhilarating: their first case with Nancy Drew on an old train chugging along through the Colorado desert.

Maybe being in such a dreamy atmosphere was clouding his mind. The romantic backstory of Jake and Camille certainly didn’t help. But the more time he spent exploring and investigating with Nancy, the more he gravitated toward her.

He was sure she had noticed him staring by now. He could usually keep his cool over the phone, but being here, in person with her, able to see her bright blue eyes, touch her soft arms and smell her perfume when they hugged at the train station...it was wearing him down.

They hadn’t seen each other in two years, their last encounter at Joe’s high school graduation party. He recalled their earlier meetings, in the midst of puberty, when his crush had first formed and he stumbled over his words in front of her. He felt like that 15 year old kid again, stuttering and mumbling around her, begging Joe not to embarrass them. Not much had changed.

In reality, Joe’s antics on this trip were probably charming her more than anything, and Frank was just making things awkward. 

Luckily, Nancy was just as excited to work with him-them-as he was to work with her. She was beaming when they met at the train station early that morning. She ran to them with every clue she found on the train, eager to put all of their brains together.

If Frank wasn’t so insecure he’d notice Nancy’s eyes lingering on him more than Joe when the three of them huddled in the dining car. He’d interpret her compliments on his abilities and intelligence as more than just friendly observations of a fellow detective. He’d realize she admired him in more ways than one. Nancy was usually the oblivious one, but for a semi-professional detective, he was being incredibly obtuse.

Then again, she wasn’t exactly being as upfront as she would be about anything else. Nancy was nothing if not blunt, but she couldn’t very well treat Frank like a suspect. She had no issue confronting everyone on this train, but confronting her feelings? That sounded like a nightmare.

She was also all too aware of the ethical reasons she couldn’t, or shouldn’t, tell Frank how she felt. While they weren’t exactly talking at the moment, she knew Ned was waiting for her at home. She knew he’d eventually apologize. She wasn’t even sure what he’d be apologizing for. She was always the one who needed to say sorry.

She hadn’t seen the boy in two years--so what if her crush had resurfaced? Was it worth risking a solid relationship for a fleeting desire? She had something real, something tangible. Frank Hardy was always just a guilty pleasure of her imagination; a fantasy her mind wandered to when she wanted to get out of her own head, out of River Heights.

But wasn’t that the life she craved anyway?

Joe had fallen asleep already, his steady, quiet snoring trailing down from the top bunk. Nancy and Frank sat close on the floor below and kept quiet. Frank was leaning against the bottom bunk he had claimed, Nancy sitting cross-legged a few inches in front of him. The dim light of the lamp on the bedside table shone warm and yellow on Nancy’s skin.

About an hour had gone by without either of them uttering a word, sitting in comfortable silence together. Admittedly, Frank had spent the better half of that hour looking at or thinking about Nancy rather than the case.

“Can you make heads or tails of this?” she asked him, waving Jake’s letter at him. “I thought I cracked part of it but I might just be sleep-deprived.”

Frank yawned and took the paper from her. He stared at the old parchment paper, the fading black script swimming in front of him. Calico, Silverado, blah blah blah...He wiped his hand over his face and handed the letter back.

“Nance, it’s been a long day. I think it’s best to just look at it with a fresh set of eyes in the morning.”

Nancy looked disappointed as she took the letter back. She made no moves to get up, just resumed flipping through her notebook. As tired as Frank was, he didn’t want her to leave, so he pretended to be looking at his own notes and tried not to fall asleep. He rested his head against the bed behind him. His eyes fluttering shut. He’d just rest his eyes for a moment...then he could spend more time with Nancy...

He jolted awake when he heard himself snore. He jerked his head up and looked at Nancy, who wasn’t looking at him, but still immersed in her notes. Thank God, he thought.

He wiped the corner of his mouth surreptitiously, in case, god forbid, he had drooled during his nap. He couldn’t have been out for long, she probably didn’t even notice...

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” she said, smiling slyly as she kept her head down. Frank blushed, admittedly enjoying the sound of that coming out of her mouth.

“Sorry, it’s been a long day, I guess it just..caught up to me. I-”

“No, I’m sorry, I’m probably keeping you awake.”

“Oh, no, I mean, obviously I can fall asleep sitting straight up with you here, so...” He smiled, embarrassed.

“I just...feel a little weird in my room. It’s where Camille used to sleep, apparently, and before you say it,” Nancy looked at him pointedly. He smirked. “No, I don’t believe in ghosts now. But I think John Grey has been pulling tricks to make people think Camille’s spirit’s roaming around here, and I don’t want to be a target.”

“If you say so, Drew. Don’t worry, I won’t tell Joe you’ve suddenly become a believer.”

She shot him another look.

“I do say so. After what Lori pulled on us, who knows what else we’re in for.”

“You have a point,” he conceded.

“I always do.” Nancy smiled playfully, and Frank’s stomach knotted. He was in awe of the way they fell back into this groove every time they worked on a case together. The light teasing, bouncing ideas off one another.

“Plus, Tino said something about ‘going over our notes together,’ which I think means he just wants to see what I’ve found out so far, and I don’t want to be there if or when he knocks on my door. I’d rather just avoid him.”

“What a sleazebag.” Frank scoffed. “He’s been so condescending this whole trip, and he wants to take credit for your work. Let me know if he says anything else. I know Joe is just looking for an excuse to deck him.”

Nancy shook her head. “No no no, Frank, really, it’s okay. I can handle myself.”

Frank backtracked. “I know! I was mostly kidding. I-I wasn’t saying you couldn’t, or-”

“Besides, I really don’t want you to get kicked off of this trip.” She put her hand on his tense thigh.

Frank softened immediately. “You’re right. I wouldn’t actually hit the guy, you know. Joe might, though.” Nancy breathed out a laugh.

He kept talking to keep his mind off of her hand on his leg. “You can stay in here as long as you want. I mean...I’ll even sleep on the floor, if you want to take my bunk.”

“No, I couldn’t do that to you!”

“Nancy, please. As you can see, I’ll fall asleep anywhere.”

She stayed silent, reluctant to accept his offer, but inwardly groaning at the thought of sleeping on the floor of a train car.

“I’m not taking no for an answer.”

She smiled graciously.

She scooted over to lean against the bed next to him, her arm dangerously close to his.

“You’re the best.”

Frank cracked a toothy smile and he felt a flutter in his stomach.

“I’m so glad you invited me. I was really excited to hear from you,” Nancy gushed, but instantly cringed, wondering if she was coming on too strong.

“I’m glad you decided to come,” Frank’s deep voice and sincere tone sent a shiver down Nancy’s spine.

Their hands, propping them both up on the floor, were nearly touching. Nancy shifted hers so her pinky grazed his thumb.

“You know, I missed you guys, a lot.”

Frank turned to her when she said this to find her facing him, her nose just a few inches from his, her ice blue eyes gazing at him. He had never seen that look on her face before, and he was trying to pin down what it was when she whispered, “Especially you.”

Nancy’s lips curved slightly. She hoped he finally caught on. A girl could only drop so many hints.

Frank thought he might be imagining the signs due to fatigue, but in that moment he didn’t even care if he made a fool of himself. His eyes flitted across her face before determinedly, but slowly, leaning into her, giving her plenty of time to back away. She didn’t.

He hovered a centimetre from her, the end of his nose touching hers. They sat suspended in time, delaying the inevitable. Their eyelids slipped lower. Frank held himself there, thinking that as long as this was all that happened, they weren’t breaking any rules. There was nothing wrong with this. Nancy might have had the same thought. He dared to move a little closer.

Nancy closed her eyes but did not move, allowing Frank to capture her lips in his. Her lips tingled, the sensation traveling down her body, between her legs, down to her toes. Her breath caught.

Once she finally regained control of her body, her lips began to move in sync with his. 

Frank’s hand moved up to the side of her face, his fingers tickling her ear and just below her jaw, and another jolt ran through her. She placed a light hand on his chest, noticing his firm muscles below his soft t-shirt.

As the hand on her cheek slipped into her hair, Frank moved his other hand to her waist and leaned further into her. Her skin seared where he touched her. She broke away for a millisecond to breathe a shaky breath before reconnecting with him, leaning further into him, applying more pressure.

Her tongue had just found its way into his mouth when a particularly loud snore from Joe made them jump apart. Nancy’s eyes widened and pointed upwards where the younger Hardy boy rustled.

Frank held his breath until his brother stopped stirring, watching Nancy’s face shift from startled to embarrassed. She blushed, but had a mischievous twinkle in her eye. They caught eyes and awkwardly chuckled.

He felt like he was in high school again, almost caught by his parents on the couch in the basement with a girl. That was usually Joe, though.

Nancy bit her lip and looked at the ground. Frank cleared his throat to break the silence. The moment was gone.

“I think it might be time to get ready for bed,” Frank whispered, gesturing to his brother. 

Nancy laughed silently and pushed herself up off the floor, brushing off her soft white shorts. 

Frank grabbed his toothbrush and toothpaste and headed out of the room without a word. Nancy blew out a breath she didn’t know she was holding and sat down on the bed, leaning against the wall and trying one last time to decipher the letter. Anything to avoid thinking about what just happened.

When Frank walked back in a few moments later, Nancy forced her eyes to stay focused on the paper in front of her, but she could feel her face heating up.

Frank shuffled awkwardly, unsure what to do next. Were they supposed to talk about it? Pretend it never happened?

He was just about to ask Nancy to hand him a pillow from the bed so he could make up his sleeping arrangement on the floor when she perked up.

“Wait, I think I figured something out. Look at this,” she beckoned to Frank and he sat next to her on the bed, looking over her shoulder at the letter. 

“The oven in the dining car has some symbols on it that I saw on the scale that opened the door to Jake’s projector room. Do you think that’s what he means by a warm place?”

“It definitely could be. Either way, it sounds like the oven is significant.”

She turned over her shoulder and their eyes met. Again, Frank lost all rational thought and fought sleep away, forcing his eyes open as he grabbed his notebook again and leaned into Nancy to continue looking over the letter.

The two of them pored over the notes again in silence, this time on the small twin bed. Frank was suddenly wide awake, alert and aware of every sensation. His temperature rose every time she shifted and their arms touched, but she was clearly unruffled by the whole event. Leave it to Nancy to act like nothing had happened five minutes after the fact.

Eventually, Nancy’s eyes began to droop and her head lolled to the side, hovering above Frank’s shoulder. He shifted so her face met his arm and she could rest on him comfortably. She jumped awake at the contact.

“Ugh, now I’m falling asleep.” She smiled sheepishly at him. He chuckled.

“It’s okay, we can just go to bed and take another look in the morning. It’s late.”

Frank moved to slide off the bed when Nancy timidly grabbed his wrist.

“You don’t...have to sleep on the floor, Frank. I-I mean, it’s so uncomfortable, I don’t want you to be in pain tomorrow.”

Was she implying they could share this small bunk bed? After what had just happened? His stomach was twisting--he wanted desperately to lie down next to her, both for the comfort of an actual bed and the contact it would allow. But that would make things even murkier.

She had a boyfriend. His brother was in the room, just a few feet above them.

Frank turned to her and wished he hadn’t, because it crushed any resolve he had left in him. Her bright blue eyes were glossy with fatigue, and something else. Something he couldn’t say no to.

“Are you sure? It’s really no problem...” he said, noncommittally.

She nodded, pulling the blankets down. Swallowing hard, Frank leaned over to turn the dim lamp off and lay on his back next to her, being careful to keep his body as far from hers as possible. Although in this twin bed, even that meant he could feel the static in the space between their arms.

Nancy yawned and turned her head to the side, gazing at the outline of Frank’s profile in the dark. She resisted the urge to reach out and touch his face, to trace his hard jawline speckled with stubble. She closed her eyes and tried to just enjoy the weight of his body next to hers. In an instant, she slipped into slumber.

Despite his racing mind and pounding heart, it didn’t take long for Frank to fall asleep either.

Not much later, Frank was awoken by a sudden pressure on his chest. He opened his eyes to a mass of red tresses just under his chin, shining in the moonlight spilling through the room’s small window.

He sighed as he realized his arm had instinctively wrapped around Nancy when she sidled up next to him while they slept, her leg draped over his and her dainty hand gently lain on his collarbone. His heart sped up to the point where he was afraid it would wake her.

Slowly and carefully, Frank shimmied them both deeper under the covers and tried to slide them closer to the wall in an attempt to obscure their sleeping position should Joe wake up.

He told himself he didn’t want to remove Nancy from his chest because he didn’t want to wake her. Any other reasons, he shoved deep down. He closed his eyes tight, willing the guilt away and trying his best to ignore the warm, glowing feeling radiating from his entire body.

After another hour or so, Frank was again awoken, this time by Joe climbing down from the top bunk. Panicked, Frank turned swiftly onto his side, facing the wall, forcing Nancy onto hers and shielding her from sight. She stirred in her sleep, her hand mindlessly rubbing up and down Frank’s abdomen. 

Christ. This isn’t helping.

She didn’t wake, even when the door slammed shut behind Joe as he went, presumably, to the bathroom. By the time he came back to the room, Frank’s and Nancy’s legs had tangled further together and Nancy’s hand had slithered up onto Frank’s face, her thumb grazing his cheekbone.

She really moves a lot in her sleep. Frank’s half-conscious mind wandered. She’s probably a blanket hog, and rubs her cold feet on whoever she shares a bed with...Frank could get used to it.

Frank held his breath until he heard his brother lay back down above them, hoping he hadn’t seen the extra mass beneath his blanket. He really didn’t feel like answering Joe’s questions, or being the target of his poorly-veiled jabs in front of Nancy and everyone else for the rest of the train ride.

We’re not doing anything wrong. She needed a place to sleep. Cuddling up next to a warm body is a reflex, it just happens. We weren’t even conscious. The excuses rolled through his head on a conveyor belt. He tried not to think of whom Nancy usually cuddled with, hogged blankets from and bothered with her cold feet. He again fell into a comfortable sleep.

Frank would have been annoyed at being woken up for a third time that night, had it been anyone else. When he opened his eyes, Nancy was crawling over him, her long legs stretching carefully to avoid stepping on him. She gracefully slid onto the floor and adjusted her shorts.

A quick glance at the clock on the wall told Frank it was 6 AM--there was no way Joe was up yet. Nancy tiptoed toward the door and slowly slid it open. When she turned around to close it she locked eyes with Frank, realizing he was awake.

He felt embarrassed that he was caught watching her, but she grinned at him in a way he hadn’t seen before, like there was a secret between them. He realized the look in her eyes was the one he’d seen last night. Her gaze lingered on him a moment as he rubbed the sleep from his eye and smiled back. She slid the door shut and Frank dropped his head back onto the pillow, still feeling her warmth on the mattress next to him.

Nancy strolled back to her own room in the quiet of the morning, soft blue light flooding the train car. Too disoriented to recognize any potential consequences, she couldn’t stop smiling.

[cherrysweather]

Claudeleth Week, Day 6: birthday/fate

[Pairing: Claude von Riegan x F!Byleth]

[Genre: fluff>slight nsfw/nsfw*]

*POP*

Everyone turned to the noise of the confetti shooters when Sylvain and Raphael used them;

“Is he here?!” “Wait! Keep him out! We still have to finish with the wall decorations!” “Don’t worry, he isn’t here.” Sighed Leonie, continuing to do what she had to “Then why are you two using them?!” “We were just checking if they worked” “Of course they work you dumbasses!!” Marianne had to stop Ingrid and Hilda from killing those two.

“I heard that a birthday it’s not fun enough without a dead or two; if it’s like that, we’re at a good point” “Not you two professor” Lysithea shook her head “You should go and check on him, I don’t know if Dimitri’s gonna be able to hold him for much longer, knowing him” “You sure? Then ask someone if they help you if you want to help with the wall decorations” Byleth ran off before Lysithea could throw her something, hearing her screams anyway.

Outside, the evening was lovable: it was neither cold nor hot but a gentle wind cuddled everyone, making shiver who was most susceptible to the breeze, like Byleth; the light clouds were spread everywhere in the orange sky that became purple with some black towards the horizon. It was a perfect day for a birthday; for HIS birthday.

She luckily found both the too-grown-up-children she was looking for at the training grounds, while replacing old or broken weapons with new ones “Aren’t there people who work for these things?” Byleth picked an axe from the ground, putting it in the right box “Surely, but since you all decided to ignore me today, Dima didn’t know what to invent to keep me busy” Claude raised his eyebrow as he looked up to Byleth “It looks like we’ve been exposed, professor” “We weren’t ignoring you, avoiding is the best term” “The better I feel!” He took the box of the old weapons, moving it near the door “We’ll make it up to you!” “Who said that I’m going to forgive you?”  “Come on Claude, we all did it for good” Dimitri grabbed his shoulders and pushed him out the training grounds “Where are we going now? To groom some horses or to fix the saddles of the wyverns?” “Shut up and follow us”.

They took him for a walk until the sun went down completely to give time to others to complete preparations, speaking with him without problems even if they still didn’t wish him happy birthday to keep the surprise (but, frankly, they didn’t even hope to surprise someone like Claude). Byleth quickly checked the hall in to make sure everything was ready before they brought the birthday boy in. “Close your eyes” “So you can throw me in a hole?” Dimitri put his hands on Claude’s eyes to cut it short “Come now” As they brought him in the hall, who had them, took the confetti shooters by the string “Ok, keep your eyes closed” Byleth said as Dimitri took off his hands from his face “When you want” They waited on purpose a few moments after he opened his eyes completely before pulling the string, trying to surprise him with the noise “Happy birthday!” the names they used went from a simple “Claude” to “old man”, “old ball and chain” and so on to emphasize his increase in years; only Mercedes and Hilda used cute names like “Claudie”, just to annoy him.

Silence.

He stayed still, watching around him what his friends made for him, the only sure sign of life he gave was the reflection of the light in his eyes becoming shiny. “I-I should thank you all now, right? Sorry for the awkward silence” he laughed like always, opening his arms to hug as many people as possible. It was the first time they saw Claude with teary eyes, but they were happy, knowing that those were tears of joy. They pulled him from the arms completely inside the hall, giving him a paper crown they made for him; everyone wrote or drew something on it, as a way of saying “I’m with you too”.

The party started immediately; Raphael, Caspar and Ingrid were lost in the buffet, Ignatz was secretly looking for a perfect spot to create a painting of that evening, Hilda and Marianne were setting up the gifts on a table to create a cute composition, Mercedes and Ashe tried to convince Annette to sing something, Dedue stayed to talk with Claude as they both waited for Dimitri to come back since they were searching for him for help for the next battle and, Felix was at the training grounds. So Sylvain had to go looking for him.

Byleth tried to be everywhere for everyone, but the first time she went near Claude, he tied her up to him “Why do I think you’re behind all of this? “Do you have a problem with it?” she asked curiously, hugging Claude from the side, resting her head just below his shoulder “Not at all, it has been almost a decade from the last time I’ve had a party for my birthday, so I’m not used to surprises like this anymore” “Start to get used to it again, this is just the first” “Then isn’t it better if I don’t get used to it anymore?” “...Maybe”

Right after they started to eat the cake Mercedes made, pieces of it started flying for no reason and as soon as a piece touched Lorenz’s and Ferdinand’s clothes, DISGRACE. They were so close to the tears but they only started to kill everyone with words, keeping their finesse as nobles anyway; maybe the Almyran beer that Byleyh chose for the buffet did its dirty duty, also because Sylvain, after rescuing Felix, managed to steal him a dance without punches on the arms and kicks in the back like he always received when he tried to approach that two-legged cat.

So the evening went like that, everyone was so happy and carefree, something that at that time of the war was more unique than rare, maybe too carefree. Since, seeing a whole mountain of drunk people was a, fantastic, sight. The only sober people were Marianne, Lorenz, Linhardt; Ashe and few more. Like, three more. “So what are you all going to do? This isn’t a big dorm for drunk people you know” Byleth had to raise her voice to be heard by everyone “Next time I’ll choose only some fruit juice, you villains” she was helped by who was sober to pick up who was asleep because of the alcohol, entrusting them to who knew where their rooms were.

“Thanks for the night everyone! Take care!” “For the next party just water professor!” Everyone left apart Claude, who was still sleeping on the couch while Byleth settled everything, pinching all the candles’ fuses to turn them off, except for the one near the couch. “Claude” once she finished with the cleaning, she sat next to his exhausted body, passing a hand on his face and using the other one to shake his body, trying to wake him up “Come on, wake up old-sleepy-drunk-dumbass-Claude” she chuckled at her words as she started to poke every spot on his face, opening his eyelid without too much strength. His complaints were the proof that he had finally woke up “Leave me alone, I want to sleep-” “Then go sleep on your bed; isn’t it comfier?” “It’s too far” he just kept whining, turning and giving his back to her “Don’t you dare give me your back Claude” “Who’s Claude?” “If you don’t know, how should I know, Riegan?” “It’s Von, Riegan” he stretched and slipped on the floor in an attempt to get up “Leave me heree..” “Do you want to end your party laying on the ground?” she pulled him up by the arms, keeping a hand on his back “Isn’t it over already?” he hugged her, using her body as a support, forcing her to lean against the table so as not to fall “If you want it to be over, then yes” she patted his back, sighing softly against his chest “You smell like beer” “Does that bother you? I can go take a shower” “No, I liked this beer’s smell, and it somehow suits you” “It was Almyran after all” “If you say so”

They remained there talking for some minutes, also to give Claude some time to sober up. Byleth no longer had half a knot since Claude did nothing but pass his fingers through every strand of her hair to distract himself “Are we going to sleep or do you want to stay here all night?” “Sleep? Do you want to sleep on my birthday? I didn’t say the party’s over yet” he said, placing his hand behind Byleth’s neck to get her face closer, pressing his lips on her nose, making them then slip on hers. She shivered under his touch, keeping a hand on his chest to keep a few inches free between their bodies “The hangover always makes me so contact-seeking, I’m sorry” he tried to sound even a little bit guilty, but he failed miserably, continuing to move his lips on her body, taking off her hand from his chest to eliminate the distance between them “C-laude” she tried to cover the parts of her body that Claude kept showing the world to gain territory for his kisses “We’re still in a hall open to everyone” her attempts of reasoning with him were answered with other wet, noisy kisses “Then what? What would tell us who see us?” he looked right into her eyes with a gaze filled with desire mixed with those sinful emotions given by the alcohol that continued to circulate in his body “Maybe that we’re shameless people who perform obscene acts in public?” as she spoke, her dress flew in the air “Claud-” “We’ll deal with it” he chuckled as one of his legs made room between hers, desperately searching for friction with his lower body against her hip and thigh. After all, she let her go too, putting her hands on him and removing from her sight that piece of cloth embellished several times that this time did nothing but cover without reason that chest that she was never tired of looking at when she had the opportunity “You’re the worst” “Oh me? You also have your dirty hands on my body you know” he grabbed firmly her hips, lifting her as far as he could and throwing her on the couch in the least gentle way possible “But you’re the one who’s treating me like a sack of potatoes; with a hole, for this time” she pushed his face toward the side with a very slow and weak slap “Oh well, excuse me teach” he tried to bit her hand when it was close enough to his mouth, failing every time because of Byleth’s rapid reflexes.

Claude wedged the inside of her knee on his shoulder for easy access to her sensitive areas, filling the scars on Byleth’s legs with small kisses as she started to tremble slightly. “Since when we first met, when I was still a kid with hormonal crisis, I always asked myself what you’d be like at moments like this” he tried to keep alive the eye contact between them as he slowly went down toward her inner thigh “Silent and emotionless like always or, able to emit even the most silent of moans” he slowly rubbed his lips on her skin until he reached her panties, pulling them along the length of her legs to get rid of them. She covered her face that had never been so red in her whole life; she tried her best to keep her emotions under control but, with that man in front of her it was something impossible.  Her back arched suddenly when all that remained of his face were just his bright green eyes that did nothing but stare at her, since the rest was completely covered by her body.

Their loquacity was interrupted without warning to make way for their continuous sounds mixed between moans, imprecations or just their voices whispering each other’s names; all framed by the noise of their hands rubbing on the body of the other or their skins, as they increasingly became sweaty, clashed. Their hands knew no limits for where to touch, sensitive or non-sensitive part of the skin didn’t matter, they needed to feel one with the other; what better way than with one inside the other? Heh.

He kept his free hand that wasn’t keeping him from being completely on the inner knee of her leg not resting on his shoulder, trying to calibrate his body weight so as not to bend too much her leg. One of her hand squeezed tightly his right bicep, feeling his muscles contracting under his skin, while the other tried to hold on his back, leaving some scratches whenever she tried to not make it slip. Every time Claude pushed deeper, out of Byleth’s mouth came a moan that took the sound of Claude’s name as it fully came out. “Khalid” he says, pausing for a moment “Try with Khalid, I’m somehow getting jealous with you keeping calling Claude” he chuckled throwing her hair back from her face. She didn’t ask anything, she just tried to climb his body, using the hand on his back and let the leg that was on his shoulder slide on the couch, pushing his back straight and approaching his face to print a quick kiss on his lips  “Khalid” she said quietly, almost like a whisper, as she wrapped his torso with her arms, resuming the movement at the height of their hips, gently passing her fingers on his body hair, seeing some shivers on his skin.

He squeezed her body and tried to move with her, but every time he heard her calling him “Khalid”, he felt his legs melt completely; she noticed it, so she continued to whisper that name again and again against his hot skin, feeling his strong thighs become relaxed and soft beneath her. “B-By, move, I’m close” “Don’t want to, I’m so comfortable” she pinched his cheek with her lips “W-What? I ca-” “I couldn’t care less right now, I don’t like to squeeze lemons in half“ “We’re not talking about lemons now” she had to kiss him to shut him up, holding tightly one of his hands, without stopping her hips.

She luckily lost her stamina after they both reached their climax; she dropped all of her body weight on him, hugging him bringing her knees to his back as he too let himself fall on the sofa “I didn’t want you on me” she pouted at him, biting softly his ear to tease him “You didn’t complain when I was in you though” he sighed, avoiding her bites and starting to laugh when her hands started to beat him with that bit of energy she had left “Shut up!” she became purple from embarrassment, turning her back to him, playing the fake offended. He took one of her hands and slowly became to fill with kisses her body, starting from her head and running down her back. As he reached more or less the middle of her back, he was interrupted by a hand of her who gently took his chin, bringing him back at the height of her face, placing a kiss on his nose “Khalid?” she looked at his tired eyes, cuddling his face with her finger, fixing his messy hair and his beard, continuing to run her fingers through it even if he began to speak “It’s, a long story, but that’s my real name I guess, the name that my parents gave me when I was born” “So Claude was like a code name?” “More or less, they advised me to keep my real name hidden to avoid problems” she nodded, thinking “Where does this name come from? It sounds a lot oriental; it’s Almyra or somewhere near there?” she was curious like a child “Yes, it’s from Almyra but, I want to keep the whole discussion for a better moment” he smiled and kissed softly her lips “We have a lot of time now” “We’re still naked, in a common hall where everyone can see us” “Right!” She jumped on him, taking his shoulders with her hands to keep him down “You still have to make a wish” she looked at him with the most serious stare of them all “W-What? All of this for this senseless thing?” he laughed looking at her back  “It’s not senseless! Come on, if you don’t want to say it it’s completely ok” she sat comfortably on his lap, waiting for his answer “A wish? Mmmhh...” he thought in silence, keeping his thumb in movement on her hand “Something that I want more than material things is probably a future; with both Fòdlan and Almyra in peace, Dimitri on the throne and everyone besides him or all over the continent to rule it as it should be; a future with you.” he brought her tiny hand on his heart, keeping it safe in his “That’s what I wish for and I will fight for it, especially for the last thing” he chuckled with a wink  “Selfish, but I like the idea” she smiled and rested her lips on the knuckles of his hand “Hey just that it’s selfish” he took her cheek with two fingers, pinching it “H-Heyy” she fell beside him to avoid his fingers, sighing but still holding to his arm.

They didn't want to sleep there, but they didn't want to get up from that beautifully-heated sofa that now had their shape neither; so they stayed, hoping to have enough strength later to get up. “Is someone still here? I finished just now with the army reunion” That deep voice that came from the outside made them jump and the little wax that still kept the candle above them alive, betrayed them without problems  “Hey’a Mitya! They kept you for a bit eh?” He spoke easily like he always did with Dimitri but Byleth used his body to cover herself “A-Am I interrupting something? I still had my gift to give you but I don’t want to bother you two” Claude could see clearly the red on his cheeks even if he was in the dark “Whaaat? Nonono! I wanted to invite you too! Come here!” He sat and held out his hand to his friend

Byleth could do nothing but to sigh and hold her head; probably Claude was giving himself a gift; selfish.

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

Ok so, I finally finished this horrible piece and I know I’m REALLY. TOO. MUCH. LATE. so I’ll write the next one as soon as possible, I’m sosososososososo sorry please forgive me T-T Anyway, for this one I tried to write a serious nsfw but I think you all noticed that I didn’t wrote exactly what was happening; that is because I like to go around these things and write them in the most indirect way possible to leave to those who read the freedom to choose and imagine the scene, the expressions, the emotions and everything you want So I hope you all liked this thing even if it’s probably the most cringe thing you will read in your life and that’s also why I won’t put these kind of nsfw in the requests list, I’m sorry ;-; Again, sorry for the long wait but I had some problems but I will try to end this wonderful week as soon as I can!! Love you all!!! <3

[dokidokey]

iridescent

summary: it’s denki’s birthday and you take your favorite boy out on a picnic date to celebrate.

pairings: kaminari denki x reader

crossed off: head in their lap

genre: fluff

warnings: denki swears one time

word count: 1,577

notes: happy late birthday to my number one thunder boy! i’ve been neck deep in my kami feels lately (i have 4 wips just for my boy that aren’t entries for the event so pls help me) here’s a birthday special and my first entry for @bnhabookclub​’s bingo event!

“You look like an extension of this picnic blanket, you know?” Kaminari Denki comments offhandedly, mouth full with the sandwich you made last minute before dragging him here.

You frown at your boyfriend, looking down at your black gingham dress and the red gingham pattern of the picnic blanket you carefully laid out earlier. You flick his forehead and he cries out, pouting at you.

“That’s not nice.”

You cross your arms, glaring at him. “Saying I look like a picnic blanket isn’t nice either, Denki.”

He giggles, setting his half-eaten sandwich on the lid of the basket resting near your foot. When he nuzzles against your neck as a form of apology, whispering a delicate “I love you,” you feel red.

Bright, bright, blinding red － enough to color yourself from head to toe. You love this side of Denki. No matter what situation you’re in, Kami always finds a way to make you feel loved, makes sure you are aware that all the love he holds and all the love he can give is all for you.

You reach up to caress his head, fingers gliding up the back of his neck, raising goosebumps on your way. If Denki was a cat, you’re sure he’d be purring right now, his content sigh hovering over the skin of your jugular.

He stays there for a few seconds before slowly sliding his face down your chest, and soon he’s lying face down on your thighs. “Denki!” Your laugh rings on the open space of the grassy field. He groans against the fabric of your dress before turning around, readjusting himself to comfortably lay his head on your lap. He smiles at you once he’s settled.

Denki’s smiles makes and breaks you. You know your boyfriend isn’t the smartest tool in the shed, he’s not that strong either in terms of his combat skills, at least not yet. But your boy has been through so much. You were there during the times he was holed up in his room, absent in movie nights and missing late night board games with the gang. You were there when he looked at you, the usual light and twinkle in his eyes nowhere to be seen, unshed tears brimming at his eyes in place.

Denki is strong and there’s no denying that. In every footstep he leaves behind him and in front of you is an orange hue, a symbol for his strength and determination, his enthusiasm and success. There’s no denying the smile you always wear when looking at Kaminari, overflowing with pride. The rest of your class and Aizawa were witnesses of that.

“Dork,” you chide and you swear his smile brightens.

“You love me though.”

You shake your head, a smile mirroring his own. “That I do,” you sigh. “Unfortunately.”

“Hey!”

“What?” You laugh, bringing one hand to sift through his hair and the other one to rest on his chest, his own hand immediately laying over yours and intertwining.

He huffs. “Are you implying you’re disappointed that you love me?”

You look up as if you’re thinking just to tease him more. “Hm,” you tilt your head, “what do you think?”

Kaminari raises his free hand to flick you this time, aiming for your forehead. You laugh again, soft and airy, focusing on running your hands through his hair. Denki closes his eyes as you do, breathing out heavily before relaxing on your thighs.

This kind of serenity you only have with Denki? This is everything for you. You’ve never felt as happy as you do with him around. Kaminari Denki with his yellow hair and yellow eyes, the same color as his energy. It’s the same feeling you felt when you greeted him this morning in the dorms, too early for anybody else to be awake, sneaking in his room and silently joining him on his bed to kiss him happy birthday. When he smiled, it was like sunlight poured over you.

Though there were times when Denki was all lightning and thunders, blood boiling green, the same shade as the hair color of the boy he’d been jealous of. You’ve been paired up with Midoriya for a project due four days after it was given, along with a million other things and your hectic trainings. The interactions you had with Denki then were tired greetings and mumbled replies from how tired you were. You never imagined your boyfriend would ever think of it as a way of you slowly trying to break up with him.

“What? You like Midoriya now?” He seethed, stinging eyes hidden by the shadows casted by his thick curtains. “If you want to break up with me, Y/N, say it to my face. Don’t－ don’t leave me hanging.”

You tried to hug him as a way of comfort but when your hands came in contact with his arms, he pushed you away with a scoff, hard eyes trained on the floor.

“Denki,” you whispered his name so softly, almost like a prayer that it shook his soul. “I love you. Okay? You. There’s no Midoriya here or anybody else. It’s you and me.”

He looked at you, eyes hard. “Why have you been avoiding me then?”

You sighed, trying to reach for him once more. When he didn’t protest, you slinked your arms around him. “We’ve been finishing the project and papers due tomorrow, Denki,” you mumbled against his hair. Upon the mention of papers, he went stiff.

“What?”

“The proje－”

He pushed you away from him, diving to get ahold of his laptop. “We have papers due tomorrow!? Why didn’t anybody tell me, fuck, I haven’t started anything!”

And just like that, you got your Denki back. You helped him with the seven-page assignment for Present Mic’s class. It’s a little past midnight when you two finished and, cuddling on his bed, it was like Denki glowed blue when he tightened his hold on you as he apologized.

“Y/N.”

You hummed as a reply, eyes closed and basking in the warmth from his body.

“I’m－” You never heard the rest of it, only inaudible mumblings.

You turned in his arms to face him, eyebrows furrowed. “What? I didn’t get that.”

“I’m sorry, you know, for. . . thinking of you like that,” he whispered. Reaching up to caress his cheeks, you kissed him softly. “It’s all cool, babe,” you assured, tapping his cheeks lightly. “I’m sorry, too. I was so focused on getting school works done I kinda forgot I have a boyfriend.”

Denki’s hands that were resting on your back moved up to pinch your arms and you yelped, quickly followed by a laugh. “Hey!”

He nuzzled closer to you, nose sliding up against yours. “I love you,” he whispered.

“Hey.”

Denki’s voice brings you back to the present, his hand waving in front of your face as you came into focus once again. “Huh?”

He readjusts himself on your lap again, the sunlight reflecting on his hair, winking at you. “Penny for your thoughts?”

You hum, tightening your hold on his hand resting on his chest. “Nothing. Just love you is all.”

Denki breaks into another blinding smile, chest lightly vibrating under your hand. “God, you’re so whipped for me, man. Who would have thought?”

You gasp incredulously at his statement, shaking his hand off yours but he holds on tightly. His laughter intensifies at your action. “You aren’t denying it!”

Who are you to deny, though? You don’t even know how you came to love him this much, but you do. Something like the color violet; warm, safe and. . . full of love － the kind that you only know blooms for Kaminari Denki. There is something magical in it that you can’t explain. Like maybe the color of unicorn dust, if it even exists; the same shade as the sky when you greeted Denki happy birthday for the eighth time this morning; as soft as the color of the handful lavenders he got you on your first date and as eye-catching as the barrette he gave you just for the hell of it.

You lean down to kiss his forehead quickly, not missing the way he hummed contentedly when you did. “And what if I am whipped?” You whisper, face still inches away from his. Your hair casts a shadow over both of your faces, casting out the outside world and creating your own inside the cascade of your tresses. “You’re one to talk for someone who bought me a barrette just because it reminded me of you.”

Denki rolls his eyes at you. “And what if I am whipped,” he mocks you, shaking his head side to side on your lap. “Whatever. Come kiss me.”

And you do. You kiss him like you did the first time, full of all the things you were too scared to tell. You kiss him like you did when he cried to you that one night, full of love and pride and faith. You kiss him like you did when he thought you don’t love him anymore, brimming with all the assurances he would ever need.

Loving Denki is floating on iridescent clouds; an array of colors spread out before you. You can’t pick what color you want nor you can decide when you want it. It’s always there and will always be a part of your relationship and it’s all good because you wouldn’t love him any other way.