#if this just proves to be me finding an excuse to spend money on silly cute things and doesnt work i will probably drop out

[nrdmssgs]

Little things, they do 2 (Price, Ghost, Gaz) (headcannons)

Masterlist

Part 1 (Alex, Soap, König) here

Little things, they do, that get you every time. Silly, warm, heart-melting, wholesome things.

Captain John Price

Knuckle kisses. That's it.

Praises you not only when you succeed, but also when you fail. “I know, you tried so hard, love. This doesn't make you lesser. You don't have to prove anything to me. I'm proud of you. You're enough.”

Compliments you at the most random times. You've just woken up with an absolute mess on your head, or you walk around the house in old faded sweatpants and a dirty T-shirt because the rest of the clothes are being washed? John takes your hand, brings it to his lips and whispers "You are incredibly beautiful." or “How did an old git like me ended up with the most gorgeous, hottest  human being out there?”

He has this habit of going behind your back and leaning close to your very ear while telling you something. Maybe he just likes to feel you close and uses it as an excuse, maybe he wants to “envelop” you in a way, hide you from the whole world, sharing his knowledge, feeling, how interested you are in a topic.

One of those people to actually use paper and envelopes, that some hotel still provide their rooms with. You get these long 3-5 page letters from different corners of earth every now and then. They can be absolutely platonic - he can literally describe, what he's seen or overheard on the streets lately or rant about how he wants to hear seabirds voices, but they are interrupted by the unceasing roar of engines and roadworks here… But you see it: every line screams “I love you. I freaking love you so much, it's almost 4 am here, and I'm still wide awake, because I need to write to you, to communicate in any way that will be safe for you.” 

Simon Ghost Riley

He is no stranger to triggered stress or panic. So if you have any phobia, and he finds out about it - he starts protecting you from its triggers. Let's say, you're scared of spiders and scorpions. Even a picture of one can absolutely freak you out. Simon goes above and beyond to shield you from any type of appearance of these creatures in your life. In summer, he'll escort and even tiniest spider out of your apartment, before you see it.

He even shares a googledoc with trigger warning time codes for every piece of media, you wanted to see. Even if it's a long series - he just checks every episode of it on a fast rewind and writes you, if it's fully safe to watch or not. 

Ghost has a wealth of experience in dealing with insomnia and is willing to help you, if you come across this issue. Just don't hesitate to ask - he is ready to spend all the night helping you out. Will definitely start with pressing your back to his chest and guiding you through a breathing exercise.

If you had a bad day and dropped him a message - he`d surely call you as soon as he can to talk you through everything that happened and soothe you. 

“I`m always there for you, you know?” “I know, Simon…” “No, thats not the way, we do that.” “...” “Come on. Say it.” “I remember, ok?” “Say. it. I need you say it out loud.” “You are always there for me, no matter what.” “And?” “... and I can call or text you any time and you'll reach back asap.” “Good job. I'll call you again before you go to sleep.”

Despite his ascetic way of life, he likes nice things and gradually accustoms you to the same preferences. 

It all starts with tea. One day, you go grocery shopping together. You walk between the rows of shelves while Simon stays by your cart. Returning to the cart, you find him skeptically examining the box of tea you dropped into the cart earlier. "What is this?" "It's tea, Simon, stop pretending you can't read." Ghosts gaze eloquently demonstrates his attitude towards this product. "It's trash." He pulls out a simple but elegant box from the top shelf. "This is tea." You try to convince him that with the money spent on that "good" box, you could drink tea all year, but he is relentless. Simon ends up buying the tea himself and brewing it at your place. When you first try it and roll your eyes in pleasure - he smiles contentedly. “Told you.”

Kyle Gaz Garrick

“Babe this is delicious, wanna try it?” - say yes and firstly he will kiss you. You absolutely need to try that ice cream, his tongue is just a nice bonus. Ofc shares his food with you afterward.

One of the most supportive human beings out there. Encourages every your hobby, hella proud of you and not shy to demonstrate it. “Have you heard her singing? RNs got a voice of a songbird!” “Kyle, please, I just went to a few vocal lessons and learned like… 2 songs.” “Those are my favorite ones from now on, love.”

If you work from home, he'll walk into your room randomly (but only when he is 100% sure, you're not on the call), sit beside you and just stare silently at you. Ask him, what's up, and he'll give you a quick kiss on the forehead and walk away grinning. 

Slow dances with you on streets, when you two pass by street musicians. Doesn't care if everybody looking, even if someone pulls out a phone and starts filming this wholesome scene. It's only you in Kyles hands, that matter right now to him. 

If you have a pet - he definitely becomes its new dad. When Kyle is around - your four-legged friend absolutely forgets about your existence, because Gaz is an expert in best scratches!

By the way, your pets birthday is now Kyles official holiday!

[bisexualbard-writes]

I’ll send you one of my fave tropes and one of my least fave tropes for variety 😂. You can pick which one you wanna talk about

Fave trope: childhood friends-to-lovers

Least fave trope: whatever you call the flower shop owner X tattoo shop owner thing (i don’t like this trope because it usually very boring. Like there’s usually little to no plot besides the flower shop owner character going “oooo the neighbor has tattoos 😳” and a cringey overuse of flower language and I just don’t understand the appeal)

OKAY, so I already have an outline for childhood friends-to-lovers kimchay which I'll dig up later, so lets talk about flower shop x tattoo shop owner aus. My original thought was: Chay is the sunshine that runs the flowershop, Kim is the moody one who runs the tattoo parlor, Chay is all ohh ahh the neighbor has tattoos 😳, Kim is like ooh ahh the neighbor is very cute let me find an excuse to keep going over there and buy flowers. This would be a cute fic! But WHAT IF we flip the script and INSTEAD: Kim runs the flower shop. It's a front for money laundering because people are often paying in cash and flowers wilt unpredictably, so it's easy to mismanage the books. It's also a front for Kim, family assassin, to import and process poisonous flowers for the family. Chay runs the tattoo parlor next door - he specializes in whimsical tattoos. Most of his designs are puns: bees on your knees, cartoons of potted plants saying "leaf me alone". The kinds of things your parents would miserably ask you why you would get it if it doesn't even have meaning. Kim has a tattoo of a vine he's been adding to since he was a teenager. It started at his ankle, and has been working its way up his leg, thigh, and back. Each time he kills someone he adds a flower onto the vine, either representing the poison he used to kill them or something in flower language about why they deserved to die. His normal artist moved, died or otherwise became unavailable, so he goes to Chay's place. At first he decides it's not the right place for him to get this super meaningful tattoo, but Chay's art is beautiful and he proves he can do serious material as well.

So he goes in regularly to get murder tattoo added to, and slowly over the course of their sessions Kim begins to relax and fall in love with the way Chay laughs. Kim opens up about how he wanted to do something other than his current career. He once wanted to spend his life adding beauty to the world. He stops making poisons, he stops working assassination jobs. He starts singing again as he makes the bouquets in his shop. He still goes to see Chay, but he doesn't add any flowers to his tattoo. Instead he lets Chay doodle whatever comes to mind. Kim gets a cat on his ankle and stars on his neck, and lots of other things that are meaningless and silly and dumb, but really they're beautiful and they make him smile, so they're the most meaningful.

(send me a trope, maybe one you hate, and I'll tell you how I'll kimchay it)

[r0semirages]

So. I made an RTC swap au!!

It started just with an idea of John Doe!Ricky that I had for a pretty long time, but recently I decided to turn it into something cooler, so I made this whole thing. Maybe I'll sketch their designs later (or at least make picrews of them), but idk how much time it will take. I haven't change some things, like the relationships between some characters, because I thought it wouldn't work very well. But, this isn't fully finished yet, so there's some moments that may be changed in the future.

I imagine this AU more like a play, than a musical and honestly I really don't think that it'll become something serious, cause I'm not that good at writing and creating full stories, so, at least at the moment, it's just for fun. Also, the designs are based on the 2016 cast, but feel free to make your own interpretations with your favorite cast. And maybe someday I'll make them too, we'll see. Anyway, hope y'all enjoy it!! (Pls excuse me if there are any mistakes, english isn't my first language, blah blah blah. Also there are a lot of spoilers for rtc, so if you plan to watch it — don't read further!)

So, first is Penny — the most imaginative girl in town. She's super silly, sometimes awkward and doesn't really have any friends because most people think she's weird. Penny often gets left out or bullied, and she uses escapism to cope with this + all the stuff with her parents, who she didn't get enough love from. Her fantasies is a bit different from the original Ricky's: they don't have a lore, she just makes up random stories to escape from reality and writes them out sometimes. She *definetely* writes fanfiction and probably posts it online. For some reason people find it cool, but no one in the choir knows about it. She's still a Seven-Up fan and she plays the ukulele (that will be used in the new birthday song for Ricky)

I changed her design just a bit, now she wears a lot of accessories, mostly pins (bc I headcanon the og Ricky having them) and it's mostly based on Emily Rohm's Penny, while her personality is more like legoland Penny's.

The next is Ocean — the angriest girl in town. Like the og Mischa, she hates her parents (but in this case they aren't adoptive) and their lifestyle, but instead of becoming the most succesful to prove that she's different from them, this Ocean just becomes a total mess and starts hating everyone. Idk if I will make her like shitty rap about money in autotune, but she definetely has a history of stealing stuff from stores, lol.

Design changes: messy hair; she doesn't have a headband and a tie, her shirt isn't fully buttoned up. She wears a sweater vest over it with a short skirt (a dress, actually).

Then we have Constance — the most succesful girl in town. She's a big nerd and spends a lot of her time studying because she wants to be the best. In general she behaves just like original Ocean and treats Noel like Ocean would treat her in the og musical (they're besties, but not really). She's pretty mean and very ambitious. This Constance doesn't have as much love for her town as the og one and she plans to move out (and become a premier minister of Canada, maybe :p) She's the one to make the final vote in this AU and of course she will choose John Doe/Ricky.

I haven't change a lot of things in the design, but her hair isn't dyed anymore, buns are down, she has a tie and maybe some hairpins. In general she looks a bit more tidy

Next one: Noel — the nicest boy in town. A complete opposite to the og Noel, he doesn't want to change anything in his life and enjoys living in Uranium. He's still super homosexual and has a big crush on Mischa, and, as I've said before he's "best friends" with Constance who treats him like shit and makes jokes about how he's never gonna breed👍🏻 /ref

He's really insecure about himself, but very friendly with everyone else (especially Mischa). He still enjoys all the french stuff, but you know, in a less... horny... way. And his mother is a baker and Noel often helps her in their cafe

He now has a short-sleeved shirt, round glasses and half of his hair is purple (it's also a bit more messy). In general I didn't change a lot in his design, but I made him such an UwU softie boy /j

Then, Mischa — the most romantic boy in town (ah yes, this one is for you, Mischa simps). He's still in love with Talia and his backstory is the same, but instead of becoming an angry rapper, he became a sad romantic guy, who dreams about moving to Ukraine with his (probably non-existing) internet fiancé. He just wants to be happy :(

Design changes: his clothes and hair aren't that messy anymore and he has a black jacket (like the one chance theatre Noel had). Also his nails are usually black or any other dark shade!!

And! Finally! My best creation yet — John Doe!Ricky. Perhaps, the rest of the choir doesn't remember him (well, in fact they do remember him, but it's a different theory and I don't want to bring it here) because he couldn't talk and no one really noticed him. The only person he was pretty close with was Penny, but still, they weren't even friends, they just standed close to each other while the choir was performing and both sat in the back of a rollercoaster when the accident happened. There will be a role-swapped version of the Savannah scene, but I don't know what name should I use instead of Savannah yet (if you have any ideas, please drop them in the comments!! I'll be very grateful)

When he gets choosen by Constance he'll came back to life as Ricky and yes, he WILL remain disabled because I'm a very big Ricky fan + a very big ableism hater, don't expect that shit from me👎🏻👎🏻👎🏻 Also he will still have 14 cats because. Why not. I love cats.

The only thing that will change is the fact that he's a little happier now?? People around him treat him better and he doesn't have to fantasize about fucking cat-people from Zolar to be happy lol. Oh man I'm writing a bit too much about him sorry I just love this guy a lot. Bless his little heart

Finally, about his design: honestly he's just a yassified version of this picture /hj

↓

Okay, so he has a head stolen from some super swag dressed in a Bowie-like style doll that for some reason was in the warehouse. He has a big purple star around one of his eyes and some parts of his hair are also colorful (purple/blue/pink). His clothes isn't very different, but maybe I'll add some more accesories

Well, that's all atm. I will try my best to make some content for this and keep developing this idea and I really really hope you will like it!

Reblogs/comments/likes are VERY appreciated and again, if you have any recommendations for improving this au I'll be really glad to hear them or just any of your thoughts!!!

Ty for reading (⁠◍⁠•⁠ᴗ⁠•⁠◍⁠)⁠✧⁠*⁠。

[gourdkeeper]

Omg, I fell in love with your Jamie x reader stories, if it doesn't bother you at all, could you do a HC where Reader is Juri's younger sister? Then one day he ends up bumping into her fighting Luke and ends up kind of taking an interest in her?

It was hard to come up with headcanons ngl but I hope this pleases you!! Thank you for supporting me <3

As asked the reader (you) is portrayed as Juri's younger sister who is almost as sadistic as her, but with a little soft spot reserved only for a few special people

You've met Jamie one day while training with Luke. You weren't even intending on training with him truth be told, you just wanted an excuse to beat someone up and nothing better than an excitable happy go lucky moron with a wish to spar, god he was ridiculous, kind of cute tho;

This Jamie guy seemed to get his kicks off of seeing Luke getting his shit rocked and getting K.O.'d over and over;

You challenged him to a fight as well, maybe he'd be a better challenge, he agreed, in hopes he'd show off in front of his Rival by beating someone he lost to with ease;

Big mistake, sure, he proved to be a worthier oponent but nothing you couldn't win against, he ended up underneath you, breathless and defeated, yet he had a certain sparkle to his eye;

Since then you'd been seeing him more often as he "accidentally" bumps into you, pfft yeah right, what an accident;

He puts up this silly act of being Oh So Great and better than everyone else and one day you decide to beat him up in the middle of the street to put him in his place;

You don't go too hard on him, just enough to have him beat, and there it is again, he looks at you as if he adores you? What is it? Love? Does he like getting beat up? Weirdo;

His actions later that day confirmed it, he gave you his phone number and tried to woo you and suggest taking you out for dinner all while still claiming that he flirts with no one. Right;

You obviously accepted it, you get a free meal, maybe he even spends more money on you? And maybe you can beat his sorry ass again. Come to think of it, maybe you took a liking to fighting him as well, after all, he is kind of cute;

You often find yourself thinking of hurting him for your entertainment, until, the thoughts are less and less vile, romantic even, ugh.;

All it took was a week for you to be a couple, you're happy though, but you don't like showing it. Jamie however, showers you in love constantly even if what he gets in return is a playful elbow to the gut.

[tenthgrove]

aaaa i've been waiting for this so excuse me if i make another request haha. so one of my favorite scenes from "the new batman adventures": https://youtu.be/3a77anCmsLg from 1:52 to 2:38

may i request something like that for la squadra? i would love to see a member and reader argue about gas lmao

Beginner’s Error

La Squadra x Reader (GN), Romantic, SFW

Description for those unwilling/unable to watch the video: Harley Quinn and the Joker are fleeing from Batman and Batgirl by car after a heist. The car breaks down and the Joker angrily tells Harley he thought he told her to get gas. Harley justifies they're too broke to be buying gas. This argument continues for a while until Batman catches up, causing the Joker to flee as Harley is apprehended.

Formaggio- Look, if it can be in any way considered a chore, it goes into one of Formaggio's ears and out the other. Formaggio may be one of the members with his own car but it's basically running on fumes and that's largely due to Formaggio's poor maintenance of it. The cops come round the corner and find you arguing about Formaggio's poor responsibility, and why you can never go on long trips without borrowing one of the other cars as a result. They're so perplexed they completely miss the miniature bomb Formaggio chucks at them during the distraction.

Illuso- The most dangerous thing about Illuso is that he considers himself a responsible person. If you tell him to get gas he'll mix up his memories and assume he's done it even if he hasn't, because he would never be so stupid as to just forget. And no, he's not going to back down on that point, even as you sit in the broken down car, the fuel indicator right in front of him proving him wrong even as he insists he got gas. Well, the good news is that you are in a car after all, so Illuso pulls you both in through the side mirror when he spots the police coming. You can continue this argument in the mirror world.

Prosciutto- Okay if one of you forgot to get gas, we're going to have a problem because when you're with Prosciutto, literally every chore is timetabled out for who agreed to do it and when. If it was your responsibility, there's no getting out of taking the fall. If it's his, no it isn't. Prosciutto isn't skipping chores if it kills him. As you try your line about being broke Prosciutto asks how that came to be about. The only thing more specific than his chore timetable is his monthly budget, so if you're out of money for gas, that means you've been spending money you shouldn't. You're almost glad for the police interrogation after they catch you, because it's nowhere near as bad as the one you just got from Pros.

Pesci- Even if it is entirely your fault, Pesci's not gonna push an argument about it, saying it isn't on you that he forgot to remind you. If Pesci was the one to forget, he'll be even more apologetic. Unfortunately, this leads to a completely different back-and-forth with each of you trying to accept blame for yourselves. So at the end of the day, you're still sitting in the car and not running as the police speed after you. You get a whole knew round of apologies in the police van as Pesci babbles about how sorry he is for not thinking faster. Next time, you think you'll just leave a reminder on your phone to go to the petrol station.

Melone- Melone isn't the worst with chores but going out to get things is a different matter. He's so glued to his screen he tends to put off leaving the house more and more until eventually it's too late in the day. There'll be no surprises if he forgets to buy petrol. Melone owns up to his mistake but downplays there severity. It's fine! He can just grab his bike from the back and escape like that, he says, making no attempt to do so. Eventually you just have to wrench his phone from his hands to stop his texting and tell him to fucking RUN! It's still too late though. Better hope Melone already made that junior because otherwise you're going to the jailhouse.

Ghiaccio- Oh dear god you better hold on to your hat, otherwise he might scream so loud it falls off. Ghiaccio's not exactly renowned for staying calm when a mission goes wrong and if it's because of a mistake on your part, ooh boy. He's never going to let you live this down. Don't expect to get away with saying you're broke either, because the squad keeps money aside for stuff like that if you knew the car would be needed for missions. You have no excuse, and you're going to sit here and take it as Ghiaccio tells you how irresponsible you are until- oh shit is that the police? You're lucky Ghiaccio has White Album and doesn't care about potential witnesses. The bad news is that Risotto does.

Risotto- If you've gotten to this point, it means that Risotto is so black-out tired that he didn't check the fuel meter as he got into the car. Unlikely, but possible. He has had a lot on lately. With Risotto there is no arguing, he just scoops you up, activates invisibility, and runs. No way he's letting the police catch you over a silly mistake like that. But then you go and start arguing with him as you're running. The police turn a corner and find two ethereal voices bickering over gas. Two of them quit on the spot.

Sorbet and Gelato- Three people in a relationship and you all forgot to buy petrol. Yep, sounds about right. It's usually Sorbet who's tasked with stuff like this, but you and Gel did agree to sort it while he was busy preparing for the mission, so it's all on you. Gelato, the fucker, completely lets you take the fall, so now it's a three-way argument. As the police show up, Gelato even shouts at them to give you a minute to finish this before they intervene. Then, he and Sorbet proceed to completely slaughter them all. Par for the course.

[tellthemeerkatsitsfine]

I’ve finished watching Meet the Richardsons, and it’s made me look again at a couple of other things that I’d previously decided not to look at, which annoys me because I’m opposed to cross-promotion as a concept. But also, it’s silly to miss out on something just on those grounds.

I’d previously avoided watching the Jon Richardson Grows Up series (3 episodes, all on YouTube, if anyone else is interested in this thing that I haven’t seen yet so I can’t actually recommend), which is a documentary-type-thing he did with Matt Forde in 2014 about how to become a proper adult. I did not want to watch that because I liked the Jon who was not a proper adult, seeing him made me feel better about my own case of not being a proper adult, and if I watch a documentary about him becoming a proper adult then what excuse will I have? I mean, it’s great that Jon Richardson the real person is becoming a proper adult and getting all the things he wanted. As one person to another, I wish him the best. But as a consumer of media and the two-dimensional personas that famous people release into said media, I liked the old version.

Watching Meet the Richardsons has convinced me that the “married with a kid” version of Jon is close enough to that older (older as in further in the past, but actually I mean younger as he was in his twenties rather than thirties) version for me to still enjoy watching him and find him very funny, so I can probably also enjoy the “recently found a lasting relationship and is working on becoming the sort of person who could be married with a kid”, which is the iteration of Jon that’s featured in the Grows Up episodes. Also, it helps that I’ve now had some time since finishing those radio show episodes, enough to get over my completely unreasonable and unjustifiable resentment of Matt Forde for the crime of not being Russell Howard (I mean, I never disliked him and have always appreciated how delightful his excitable comedic nature can be, but there was an underlying simmer of “come on, you can’t just swap Russell out for another guy and think this will still work”, that’s had time to cool down now).

The second thing is Jon’s book, which annoys me even more that I’m looking at it again because of things they said about it on the show, because I’ll actually spend money on that one and that’ll really prove that product placement has worked. But one episode of the show talked about a book Lucy Beaumont has written (which I’m sure is a good book, but it’s about how to be a mother to a young child, and that is not a subject that made me interested in seeking that book out), and also did some talking about the book Jon wrote years ago. They described it differently than I remembered, based on having read descriptions of it, so I went back and read some of those descriptions again.

I think I initially got too caught up in the tagline. The synopsis says: “I have spent my entire adult life getting things the way I want them and all I want now is someone to give it all up for.” I don’t want to read about Jon Richardson looking for someone to give it all up for. I want to read about Jon Richardson neurotically getting everything exactly the way it’s supposed to be so I can say things like, “Ah yes, I have experienced this as well and therefore really see and enjoy the humour in jokes that are made from this perspective,” and, “Oh cool, it’s not just me.”

Looking at it again and reading some of the reviews, I think that one tagline was more of a joke than I’d initially realized. Apparently it isn’t really about him trying to give everything up. It’s just him writing about his own issues and occasionally saying it would be cool if this could be reconciled with a relationship but here are all the reasons why that would not work. Which is exactly the sort of thing I want to read.

I’m heartened by the top review from Canada, which has one star and says: “I find Jon reasonably unfunny. Thought this book might be different. Lived up to nothing inspired by the title and introduction.” Great! The title and introduction (or at least the synopsis) suggest this is a relationship self-help guide, and what I’m hoping is that those are ironic and don’t really accurately describe it. So I’m pleased to see someone say it does not live up to the title or the introduction. I’ve also found a number of other reviews complaining that it’s too negative for a book by a comedian, just depressing venting from a person whose issues extend beyond cute quirkiness and into making him a genuinely off putting person so it’s irritating to read his thoughts. Which is great! That is exactly the version of Jon Richardson that I want to read about! Here’s my favourite:

I was pretty disappointed by this book - if this is how Jon lives his life then he really needs therapy. There are only so many times that you can read about how this might go wrong and that might not go so well. I finally finished the book but it was hard going. I did not really find anything about it amusing - more of an insight into how his "perfectionism" takes over his life and the trouble it can get him into. I had read the reviews prior to purchasing - however I thought that, as I enjoy his dry wit on TV, it might be OK. His dry wit comes through but just makes him appear to be a thoroughly irritating person. Not for me but others might enjoy it more.

Awesome. Fucking perfect. I would like to apologize to myself for not having bought this book sooner, as it appears to be exactly what I wanted and I just never took the time to read the one- and two-star reviews that would tell me that. So I do think I’m going to buy this book. I could pirate it out of a desire to relentlessly stick to my principles about not rewarding product placement – that’s the sort of thing Jon Richardson might do. But I have also gotten enough hours of free entertainment out of him to be willing to spend a small amount of money, a tiny amount of money compared to all those hours, to compensate him for that.

So based on watching Meet the Richardsons I’ve decided I want more of Jon; I’ve downloaded Jon Richardson Grows Up and I’m looking at buying his book. But that is where I draw the line. I categorically refuse to even try that Channel Hopping show, which looks absolutely terrible.

[amjustagirl]

Chapters: one. ~ two. ~ three. ~ four. ~ five. ~ six. ~ seven.

Wordcount: 2.3k

Summary: Akaashi Keiji catches glimpses of another life in his dreams. He dreams of fields of endless gold, of constellation of stars that light up the night sky. He hears echoes of the birdsong in her laugher, the songs of the gods in the wind. 

(Loosely inspired by ‘Your Name’, aka Kimi No Nawa, featuring Haikyuu’s own pretty Tokyo boy)

Wordcount: 3.5k

Masterlist here

AO3 Link here

Author’s note: This fic is a little different from my usual work, so I’m a little nervous about publishing it. If you do like it, would love if you leave a comment / reblog / anything!

If you’d like to be included in the taglist, do drop me a msg/ask!

‘It’s rare to see young men like you buying flowers for their mother’, the florist comments offhand as she wraps his order of yellow chrysanthemums in paper. 

Akaashi smiles, accustomed to the friendly florist by now. ‘I guess I’ve always had a partiality for flowers’, waving to the florist as he leaves to head to Shibuya to meet Bokuto for Izakaya. He’s running late, but Bokuto doesn't mind, hooting good naturedly at the comedy show playing on the television in the rundown bar. 

‘Agaaaashi, you made it!’ Bokuto rises from his seat to give him a jovial fist bump. 

‘Of course I did’, he responds dryly. ‘Wild horses wouldn’t keep me from my appointment with you’. He spends most of dinner listening to Bokuto’s recent exploits both with the national team and MSBY. Excitement still sparkles in the older man’s eyes as he recounts each and every match he’s played in, and Akaashi idly wonders how it is that Bokuto seems to have managed to pack on even more muscle in the short span of a month, the last time they met up was to see Bokuto off at the airport for the World Cup. 

‘You should have continued playing volleyball in university’, Bokuto crows in between mouthfuls of yakiniku and beer and Akaashi shakes his head at the refrain he’s so used to hearing from his senpai.

‘I wouldn’t be able to maintain my grades if I wanted to take volleyball seriously in university, plus there’s no guarantee I’d even get off the bench’, he answers self-effacingly. 

‘But you have the best tosses, Akaaaaaashi!!’ Bokuto declares, his words slightly slurred, and Akaashi wonders if he should start to inch Bokuto’s beer away from him. After consuming far too much barbecued meat (Bokuto took the liberty of ordering twice of what Akaashi would normally order, waving his protests off by stating grandly that he’ll take care of the bill, he’s the one working after all!), Bokuto slips into a food-drunk stupor, happy to listen to his anecdotes of university life, and he takes the chance to ramble on about his advanced Japanese classical literature course that he finds far more fascinating than his class on modern literature to his best friend. 

They stumble out of the izakaya when the line outside grows far too long to be ignored, Bokuto draping a heavy arm over Akaashi’s shoulder, the red tint on the tips of his ears betraying his slightly tipsy state. As they stand at the traffic light patiently waiting for the light to change from red to green, Bokuto turns to him and grasps his shoulders in his large, warm hands. 

‘I’m really proud to have you as a friend, Akaashi’, Bokuto tells him seriously. ‘And I’m going to prove to you that I can be the best ace so you can be proud of me too’. The molten gold glimmering in Bokuto’s gaze fills him with far more warmth than any alcohol could possibly achieve. 

‘I’m already proud of you, Bokuto-san’, he answers, his earnestness resounding in every word of his short declaration. Bokuto beams at him in response and bounds across the pedestrian walkway in approximately three strides, ignoring Akaashi’s chiding to ‘look before you cross the road, even if you have the right of way!’

Many things may have changed since high school, but some things still stay the same.  

His dreams take a strange turn that night.

He’s back in the Fukurodani gym with his teammates, but it’s not accurate to say he’s with them - rather, he’s watching his past self from afar, seated on the bench, a wrist guard on his right arm. He doesn’t remember ever injuring himself enough to warrant a wrist guard at any point during his high school volleyball career, but it’s probably just another oddity of being in a dream.  

‘I wish your wrist was feeling better, Akaashi. I miss your tosses already’, the pout in Bokuto’s voice pronounced.

‘It’s just for a while - I’ll be right as rain tomorrow!’ he hears himself say cheerfully - but that doesn’t make sense either. No one in their right mind has ever described the way he speaks as cheerful, and the rest of his teammates glance over at him curiously. Then his past self awkwardly tucks his legs under the bench, ankles crossed almost as if he’d like nothing better than to fold himself away with all the cloth vests they use for practice – but that doesn’t make sense either, he doesn’t even know why he’s behaving like some fish out of water. While volleyball doesn’t come naturally to him as it does to someone like Bokuto-san, and there are times he feels like he’s struggling to swim upstream, his fingers still itch to toss a ball up into the sky in a perfect arc even now. 

‘I told you, I don’t get what you insist on waxing lyrical on him being a star you can’t help but follow,’ he hears her voice chime in his consciousness, inexplicable though her presence in this scene may be, he hears himself answer - ‘just be patient and watch’. 

Anahori, their substitute setter tosses the ball up in the air and it’s a good toss, he will give him that, but it’s still not quite as high a toss that Bokuto likes. Bokuto runs right up to the net to leap into the air, back arching to slam the ball to the ground with such force that it’s a commanding full stop punctuating any doubts about his place on the team as its captain and ace. 

‘You see! When he plays well, he's like a supernova, shining with a light so bright it almost blinds my eyes.’

‘Waxing lyrical again, Keiji-kun?’ He can hear her tease him gently. ‘Go on, carry on with your celestial metaphors’.

‘How about a shooting star then’, he replies, amused. ‘If a shooting star shot up from the earth instead of falling from the sky.’ 

‘You sound like you like the guy. Are you sure you don’t?’ She asks. ‘You sure sound like you do.’

What?!

His legs are tangled in his sheets when he thrashes awake, mouth open in a gasp for air. That was a new twist in his collection of dreams, the first time he’s dreamt of something other than that phantom girl’s life in months, but even when the dreamscape doesn’t even feature her, she still manages to invade his dream. 

Worse - his dreams are now edging into territory he hasn’t mapped out in years. His teenage infatuation with Bokuto-san died a natural death after he realised that he’d mistaken his admiration for the ace for romantic feelings. Besides, there was no way Bokuto-san would ever be in love with him, not when he’d chosen to devote the next decade of his life to his sport. So why are his dreams dragging him deeper into a labyrinth of memories that aren’t even his own?

‘Why are you squandering my pocket money in a maid café of all things’ he says, sounding uncharacteristically put out. But then again he would be annoyed if anyone managed to drag him into the pink and white monstrosity his dream has deposited him into.

Bokuto’s happily seated across from him (or rather, his past self), exclaiming ‘ooh - isn’t the ketchup art on this omurice amazing, Akaashi? They managed to capture my hair so well!’, and to his horror his past self nods encouragingly and only laughs when Bokuto whines about not wanting to destroy this ‘piece of art the maids took so much time to create’ by eating the damn omurice. 

‘Don’t be such a killjoy, Keiji-kun’, she giggles. ‘Look at him, he’s having such fun, and besides, your day will reset so your money won’t be wasted anyway!’. 

Bokuto, distracted by the catchy beat of the J-pop song blasting over the speakers, is cajoled by a trio of pretty maids to join them on stage to dance along with them. He pops his hips to the beat of the music, throwing up cheesy hand signals with such gusto that it makes him (yes, present day Keiji) want to smile. 

But his past self evidently hasn’t lightened up yet, because he hears himself say crossly – ‘You do realise this is a waste of time when we could be doing something more useful like homework, especially since  Bokuto-san and I already spend most of our time training?’

‘Oh Keiji-kun, life is too short to be spent worrying like that. Because before you know it, you’ll grow into an old man who doesn’t know how to have any fun’.

‘I have fun’, he says petulantly, a faint sulk in his voice. 

‘Oh really? Then stop worrying and live a little. Maybe you should take a leaf out of your beloved Bokuto-san’s book – look how much fun he’s having!’

Bokuto clearly seems to be having the time of his life because now he’s prancing around the stage playing some silly game with the maids. 

‘I told you, I don’t think of him that way.’

‘And I’ve told you I’ve borrowed your skin for far too long to know when you’re not telling me the whole truth, Keiji-kun’, she sing-songs. ‘You wished for more time with him, didn’t you, so aren’t I doing a good deed by helping you figure out what Bokuto might like to do with you?’

‘Bokuto-san doesn’t have spare time on these things – and you’re just making an excuse to explore cafes in Tokyo at my expense!’ 

‘Two birds, one stone. Don’t be pedantic, Keiji-kun!’ 

The next time he’s back in one of those dreams, he finds his past self dressed in a blue yukata along the Sumida river, tugging Bokuto away from the takoyaki store. He remembers Bokuto dragging him away from the rest of the team on a quest to buy some snacks at the food stalls set up around the park, insisting that his stomach’s growling too loudly to wait until the fireworks display is over ‘come on, even you can hear my stomach at this rate, Akaaashi!!!’ – but that’s where the dream starts to diverge. 

‘If you queue for takoyaki, we’re going to miss the fireworks, and you don’t want to miss that, do you Bokuto-san?’ he says, hand firmly on Bokuto’s yukata sleeve. 

‘That’s right! But shouldn’t we join the rest of the team? They’ve got a spot by the river just over there!’ 

‘We won’t get there in time with this crowd – come on! If we hurry, I know the perfect spot to watch the display’, weaving his way through the crowd to shimmy up the trunk of a tree and settle himself comfortably against a large branch. 

‘Woah – Akaashi! I never knew you could climb trees!’ Bokuto calls, sounding impressed.

‘Well, don’t stand there, come join me!’ 

The tree creaks ominously as the larger boy scales its trunk, branches already heavy with red lanterns groaning in protest as he settles himself in the branch opposite Akaashi. And not a moment too soon, because a collective gasp ripples through the crowd along the river as the night sky explodes into rainbow hued fiery streaks.

‘It’s amazing, Akaashi!’ Bokuto hollers with his face tilted up to the sky. 

‘You’re amazing, Bokuto-san’, he says fondly, reaching over to bump Bokuto’s shoulder with his fist and the older boy beams at him, the sheer delight in his smile brighter than the fireworks in the sky. There is a sea of stars in his eyes, and Akaashi wants to shrivel in shame at the way his younger self looks like he’s mentally planning to pirate a boat to cross the straits to Bokuto’s heart. 

‘There is no way I’m going to do that’ he hears himself say, sounding mildly cross. 

‘Eh – it’s cute. ‘sides, doesn’t he look so happy’ he hears her say, sounding overly chipper. 

‘You could spend your time instead learning how to play so Bokuto-san won’t pout when you sit out of practice and you wouldn’t have to pretend you sprain your wrist every time we swap.’

‘Are you mad? Do you really think they won’t think something’s up when I can’t even do a simple serve?’ 

‘Fine. You have a point’, he answers begrudgingly. 

‘Of course I do. Come on Keiji, live a little. Enjoy your time with the lodestar of your life’.

‘Can you not say things like that?’ he says dryly. 

‘It’s your fault for reading so much Shakespeare to me!’ she replies with a grin in her voice.

He texts Bokuto the minute he wakes up. ‘Bokuto-san, apologies if this seems weird, but do you remember if we ever climbed a tree when we watched fireworks with our team?’ 

Bokuto takes a while to respond, but that’s to be expected, it’s his mornings are usually filled with practice and conditioning. But when he does respond, his text makes Akaashi’s brow curl. ‘Nope, but sounds fun! What’s up Akaashi!!’ 

Akaashi drops his head in his palms. Good to know he’s not losing his grip on reality at least. 

But his sleep for the following weeks continues to be filled with dreams in the same vein. 

He dreams of scenes that have never taken place in real life - him challenging Bokuto-san to ramen eating competition, the older boy winning handily of course, crowing like a child when he slurps the last mouthful of tonkatsu broth - ‘eh Akaashi, eat faster!’, him dragging Bokuto-san to the arcade near school, demolishing middle schoolers in endless games of dance dance revolution (there is no way he is actually able to move like that in real life) and losing far too much money in claw games - ‘Akaashi I really want that toy pleaseeee’ - and even he would admit it’s absolutely adorable if not for the fact that he can’t explain why these dreams keep invading his head like a wildfire that refuses to die. 

‘I honestly don’t understand you’, she says and again, why on earth is she in this set of dreams - she doesn’t belong in them -

‘What exactly do you not understand?��

‘If you like him that much, why aren’t you jumping at the chance to hang out with him? All you do is nag me about how I’m wasting his time, I’m wasting your time, but I don’t understand -  isn’t time meant to be spent on the people you love? Unless you’re confusing love with admiration, because yes, I get that you admire his talent, but you don’t seem to have all that much patience for spending time with him outside of school.’ 

‘I suppose I do like him, but…’

‘Finally you admit it, but I don’t like the sound of that word.’ 

‘It’s nothing’, he finally says, and she huffs in annoyance, clearly wanting him to explain but he stubbornly refuses to say another word. 

His past self is skidding down the hallway with Bokuto hot on his heels yelling ‘Akaaashiii you owe me a Yakisoba bunnnnn’ when he hears an almighty crash behind him. As he spins around, Bokuto’s sprawled on the floor, papers and books scattered around him. The older boy grimaces as he sits up, grabbing at his ankle in pain. 

‘Bokuto-san, are you ok?’ he cries, running back towards the older boy. 

‘I might have twisted my ankle. Argh this is bad - prelims are just next week!’ Bokuto groans, clutching at his ankle desperately. 

‘Don’t worry. You’ll be fine tomorrow, trust me’, his past self says with complete certainty, and flags down a passing student to call for a teacher. 

‘Look what you’ve done now. Are you happy with yourself?’ he hears himself say accusingly. ‘Everything might reset tomorrow, but look - he’s hurt himself today. Is this what you’ve been trying to prove to me?’ 

‘I’m sorry, Keiji’ he hears her say, her voice watery. ‘I didn’t think -’ 

‘Of course you didn’t, you never think about the consequences of your actions, do you?’ he says, glass shards in his words. 

His dream fades to black. He never hears her answer. 

His sleep remains relatively undisturbed for the next fortnight, just in time for his mid-term exams which he aces, even his course on classical Japanese literature. He’s relieved of course, because his final year grades matter most when it comes to recruitment, yet there’s a part of him that’s buried deep between ventricles and pumping flesh that childishly wonders what his dreams are going to show him next.

His wish is answered when he opens his eyes to an ocean of stars, white pinpricks of light against the vast tapestry of the purple night sky. His head is pillowed on tufts of grass and the wind whispers against his feet.

The sight takes his breath away. 

He’s a born and bred city boy, and he knows from experience it’s near impossible to see stars in the city sky amidst light pollution and masquerading satellites.  

‘Is this your way of apologising?’ he asks, his voice wry. 

‘Is it working yet?’ he hears her ask, an uncharacteristically timid note in her voice. He laughs, a fond sound, and he can hear her huff a breath through her mouth. ‘I am sorry though, Keiji. I never meant to hurt him’. 

‘It’s fine, no damage done. Besides, I was thinking about what you said.’

‘Me? About what? I know I’ve said plenty to you so far’, she says curiously. 

‘About Bokuto-san’, he supplies, and she stays silent, waiting for him to go on. The stars twinkle down at him, and if he closes his eyes, he can imagine the galaxy reaching down to lend him its infinite strength. ‘You were right about how…I felt about Bokuto-san. I thought what I felt for him was something more than it really was - now I’m starting to realise I just admire his strength, and I don’t see our paths ever converging, especially if he’s going to chase his dreams of going pro all the way’. 

‘You don’t have to chase someone else’s light when you’re brilliant in your own right’, she says gently. 

‘Thanks’, he answers thickly, as if the word feels a little awkward in his mouth. 

‘So -’ she pipes up, and he can tell she’s trying her best to paper over the sudden lapse of silence. ‘Will you tell me stories about the stars, Keiji?’

He laughs fondly, raising a hand to catch the stardust from the sparkling constellations overhead. ‘I could tell you the story of Andromeda, chained to rocks as a sacrifice to satisfy the cruel demands of the sea monster?’ 

‘Ugh no gory stories, I want a happy ending!’ 

‘It has a happy ending, I promise. Just be patient and listen, okay?’ 

Akaashi wakes up before his past self can finish telling the tale of Persues’ rescue of Andromeda from the jaws of defeat. It’s barely three in the morning, but he knows it’s futile to try to go back to sleep. He wanders to the window, and wonders whether the lone star hanging in the cloudy sky is merely a satellite in disguise. 

Against his better judgment, he dials Bokuto’s number. 

‘What’s up, Akaashi!’ he hears the older man mumble sleepily, sheets rustling. 

‘Was it obvious I had a crush on you in high school?’ he asks plainly. If seeking closure is what he needs to end this slew of dreams, then he’s going to do it, never mind the embarrassment thick in the blood in his veins.

‘Huh?’ 

Akaashi’s pretty sure he can hear Bokuto blink rapidly. ‘A crush on you’, he repeats, and for good measure he adds - ‘sometime in your third year of high school’. 

‘Ehhhh…’ Bokuto’s voice trails off over the phone. ‘You did?’ 

The sigh that trips out of Akaashi’s mouth is worn, weary. ‘I did’, he confirms, embarrassment writhing in his belly. 

‘But you stopped right? Just before I graduated? You started becoming distracted after Spring High and I thought you were just worrying about university entrance exams.’

‘I suppose.’ And Akaashi should really get a grip on himself but his dreams have been doing a number on him so to his horror, he starts to ramble. ’ It’s probably the lack of sleep, but look - this sounds really stupid but I was having a lot of really weird dreams and I don’t understand what’s happening but I’m hoping getting this off my chest helps me get some more sleep and I hope you don’t think I’m completely weird and don’t mind still being my friend -’

‘Woah, ‘kaashi, slow down! You’re overthinking again - what, you think I’m not going to be your friend anymore?’ Bokuto booms, laughing widely. 

‘Uh. I don’t know?’ 

‘Relax! I’m flattered, but I think it’s a good thing we never went out! You were already so stressed dealing with me in high school Washio used to joke about your hair falling out, but I’ve changed! Now I’m just an ordinary ace!’ 

‘Bokuto-san, I don’t think anyone would call you ordinary’, Akaashi interjects, rubbing circles against his temple. 

‘You know what I mean!’ Bokuto laughs, the sound so round and boisterous that it makes Akaashi quirk his lips up in affection. 

‘Yes, Bokuto-san. Anyway, sorry for disturbing your sleep.’ 

‘Anytime, Akaashi!’ They bid each other goodnight, and the relief he feels after the call settles on his chest like a blanket, and he falls back to sleep. 

Taglist: 

@1tooru @kageyamakock @animeflower26 @underrated-fruit-tarts-official

[p---ink]

Stark Contrasts: Chapter Two

Author’s Note: Hey guys, an anon asked for angst, so I gave them a bunch of drama with this chapter. Though I personally wouldn’t classify this as angst, im gonna tag it that way. I think angst is more like a story with a depressing tone, but this is more so dramatic if anything.  But don’t worry I sprinkled in a bit of fluff and some smut to lighten it up a bit. This is a sequel to Stark Contrasts, which I recommend reading first in order to get a background of what led to this chapter. Caution, I used google translate, to add in some French. If any French readers find it offensive or wrong, let me know so I can take it out or edit it. I really hope you enjoy reading this chapter, it took me over a week to write due to writer’s block, but I am pretty happy with the outcome. Once again PLEASE DON’T REPOST MY WORK! 

Summary: Edward Stark realizes the errors of his ways towards the reader, and tries to woo her in order to save their relationship.

Warnings: Smut, Angst, cheating, age gap, daddy kink, etc. 

Song: From Eden by Hozier for the first half, and Run by Hozier for the second. 

Word Count: 11.2k.

Parts: one | two | three | four | five

Chapter Title: Daddy Issues. 

So much had changed since your night with Tony. For one, the entire dynamics of your relationship. Long gone were the unsure lovers with unresolved sexual tension. You two were more confident in your affections now, and this made you reach a new level of comfort within each other and within yourselves. Through the eyes of a stranger, the description would be that of an old—in love, married couple. 

Though he was much older, you were the more mature one. Tony enjoyed doing things just to annoy you. He found your irritation both adorable and sexy. You would get so pouty, and your voice would go up at least three octaves. If he really did his job right, you would end up banging your small fists against his chest, which he thought was the cutest shit in the world. He took pleasure in poking the sides of your stomach, when you were performing tasks that took your attention away from him. “Kitten,” he’d whine when you were entranced in a book, “put that down, and come and play with me.” Then he would lay his head in your lap and talk about absolutely nothing until you noticed him. He only ever drew the line in his endeavors when you were studying. He preferred his head attached to his neck, rather than rolling on the ground. 

Besides always trying to piss you off, he religiously spoiled you rotten. That extravagant lace pale blue body con dress that you saw in your favorite shop? Better believe you’d find it on your bed the next day after Edward left for work and you were getting ready for classes. He would place expensive Cartier bracelets around your breakfast muffins, and bvlgari necklaces around the necks of gifted stuffed animals. He loved buying you luxurious gifts, ranging from earrings to bags. But besides your pleading for him to stop, he knew you struggled to find ways to hide it. If he happened to notice it, explaining to Edward where you got the money to pay for diamond encrusted rings would prove difficult. You were only able to wear your shiny new gifts when you were out with Tony; he found other ways to spoil you however. There were many days, where you had nothing planned, and he’d surprise you with a day at the spa, or a night on the sky in his private helicopter. If it had been up to him, everyone in the world would know you were his, but he just couldn’t risk being seen with you. Because of this fact, he had to become creative with the ways he treated you. From the rooftop dates in secluded towns to the lavish wine tastings alone in Napa, you had experienced more with Tony than you had in your entire life. When he could arrange bullshit business events for Edward to attend, he gave you bullshit reasons to fly with him to Paris, Italy, Greece, and everywhere in between. While Edward had his trips, the two of you had your own. 

Of course you always felt it was too much when he would do all of this. However, no matter how much you begged him to stop spending money on you, he never listened; it was like second nature for him to give you the world and more. He felt it necessary for someone he believed created the moon and stars. 

Most who knew him closely thought he was an asshole. He would often over-talk, dismiss, and challenge others. They always pinpointed on his shortcomings, forgetting that he was a good man in the process. He was a genius billionaire philanthropist, for fuck-sake, who many a time sacrificed his own desires for the wellbeing of others. This is why he always felt guilty. The one thing he kept to himself, the one thing he was not willing to give up, was you, even though you belonged to someone else. 

He just wouldn’t give you up though. Tony adored you. When the rest of the world felt like pollution in his lungs, you were his breath of fresh air. He was intoxicated by you. Enamored in your existence. He saw you as perfect which he knew was impossible in a world full of imperfections. 

He became obsessed with your hair, curious as to how it could defy gravity some days, then dance on your shoulders the next. He needed to know the secret on why the sun resided in your skin, giving it a mahogany glow, with golden undertones.  Your soft full lips, coffee-colored with a tint of pink, were his eternal bliss. It didn’t matter if you smelled of his sex the morning after or if your tired eyes were baggy from a night of studying, he knew you were the most beautiful person he laid eyes on. It was just as simple as that.

Tony wasn’t the only one to change. One could argue you became more bold. Where he showed his love through gifts and adoration, you showed yours through care and touch. “Tony, you’re working too hard. Come to bed now," you’d urge when you’d find him in his study hunched over a stack of papers at his desk. If he had too much on his hands, you would happily take over to help him get done sooner. You were surprisingly stubborn, and would stand firm in your attempts to get him to take care of himself. Though Tony loved annoying you, he hated when you were worried. If he was sick, you’d drop everything to tend to his needs. Whether it was making homemade soup, or driving halfway across town to get a specific type of medicine; you would do it for him no hesitation. It got the point that whenever he wasn’t feeling well, he tried to hide it. In a way being ill made him feel insecure and old. You couldn’t give a shit about those silly worries of his though, because if he needed to be taken care of, that’s what would happen. When nameless idiots over the internet spoke bad on his name, you were the first to draw your sword to defend him. You could never tell him that, but the screen name Tonysbitch99 wasn’t really fooling anyone; how could it when the anonymous face behind the name would say exactly what you would? To you, your love felt minuscule in comparison to his. It’s the reason you hated when he spoiled you. Tony however, appreciated your gestures, and felt that he was the one that was lacking. In reality your love language complemented each other perfectly. His love for you was loud and vocal, whereas yours moved silently. He needed you to ground him, while you needed him to drown out any shadow of a doubt that his actions were genuine. Besides, what could you possibly do for a man that had everything in the world?

Among other things that were now different was the constant sex. You two fucked like rabbits. He once cleared out an entire store just so he could fuck you in your dressing room. Your favorite times were when he didn’t clear the store at all. “Daddy, someone might hear us” you’d moan into his skin while he thrusted into you against a wall. “I want them to.” He would counter, before picking up the pace to build your reaction. On the way home from dining out, you would often ride him in the backseat of his car, the two of you clawing at each others skin desperate to get closer. When you just couldn’t wait to get home from your outings, he would start fingering you underneath the restaurant table while whispering sweet-nothings into your ear; this usually resulted into you getting dragged to the nearest bathroom stall. On nights where Edward was home, he would come up with any excuse to get you alone so he could bury himself into you. The two of you were playing a dangerous game, but Tony was an addict and he didn’t plan on stopping any time soon. 

Perhaps the person to change the most though, was Edward. Whether it was because he learned to work hard for the things he desired in life, or the fact that said things could be taken away from him in an instant, he was changing. Most importantly, he saw that you were changing. Tony and you may have thought him to be a self-absorbed idiot, but he saw the fading love marks that littered your neck. He saw the expensive shopping bags filled with shoes and high-end lace, carefully tucked away in your shared closet as if it was meant to be hidden. The new housekeeper bought your hand-stitched lingerie in with the laundry, smiling to him relishing in how lucky he was. But you didn’t wear that for him. He saw the way you bounced around without a care in the world, even though he had not done right by you for the entirety of your relationship. Who was all of this for? Whose texts were you chuckling at while you laid in bed so late at night? Whose scent was embedded in your bedroom sheets? Whose hickeys bruised the surface of your skin? Who was all of this for? 

It was true that he was somewhat of a different man now. Edward in the past would have accused you of being the biggest slut in the world. This Edward however, knew that he had no room for anger. He had absolutely no room for judgement. He had cheated on you since the genesis of it all. That didn’t change the fact that he loved you. He meant it when he said you were his forever girl, and that you were the best thing to ever happen to him. How could he be so foolish and let you give his love away?

“Dad,” he started, looking up to observe the older man. He and Tony were currently sitting opposite in their breakfast nook. Tony with his legs folded, newspaper in hand, orange juice in the other, hadn’t even looked up to acknowledge him. All that could be heard was a barely audible “Hmm?” 

“I think maybe I need some time off from the company” He stated.

Expecting his father to just be okay with that, he was slightly taken aback when Tony replied, “Why is that?” briefly meeting his eyes before returning to the words on his paper. 

“Well, its actually about Y/N” at this, he had his full attention. 

“What’s wrong with Y/N? Is she sick?” Slight panic dripping in his words.

“Well no but…” he began, trying to find the words to say. 

“But what Edward? Use your words, kid!” He demanded, tone a few notes away from a shout. He saw the surprise in his son’s face, so he straightened himself and said “Sorry. It's just you know how close we are. She’s my best friend.” He wanted to say you were his girlfriend, but best friend reigned true as well. 

“Well,” Edward began again “Our relationship is in shambles. I’m pretty sure she’s cheating on me and I don’t want to lose her. She might be the only woman who’s gonna put up with my shit. And I know she’s genuine because she doesn’t ask for my money. I feel like if I’m here more, I have a chance of rekindling our connection” Edward stated, confiding in his father, hoping to find some sense of relief. He hadn’t realized how hurt he was. Is this how he made you feel? Tony almost felt guilty. But protectiveness over you soon clouded his sense of remorse. Who was he to try and take you away from him? 

He examined his son. The younger boy looked like he hit copy paste on his mother’s genes. They shared the same facial features, down to her high cheek bones, only Edward had raven black hair and dark brown eyes. He was more compared to Robert Pattinson than he was to his own father, even though he looked nothing like either of them. Man, genes were a funny thing. 

Tony thought about his words. It was true that you were humble and any other woman with an ounce of self-respect would have hit the door running the minute they found out how sleazy Edward had been. You almost did, until you met his father.

He put down his newspaper, turned to Edward and took in a sharp breath before saying, “She is taken care of, so you have nothing to worry about. There isn’t any unknown man coming in from off the street sniffing around your woman.” Tony chose his words carefully. They were cautiously crafted so that he technically told the truth. He was many things, but he hated to be called a liar. 

He read the uncertainty in Edward’s face, then continued his case. “In all honesty, Ed, you know I need you at your desk. You wanted this, are you really gonna let your insecurities get in the way of that? If so, maybe I should find someone better to take your—” 

Quickly interrupting his rambles, “No dad, listen. I don’t want to give up my seat. I’ll just have to find some other way to solve our issues.” 

“Exactly what issues do you have?” Tony pressed, eyebrows knitting together. 

“Don’t ask me how I know, but she’s cheating on me. I’m sure of it.” He confirmed, staring blankly into his father’s eyes. What does know? Tony thought to himself. Does he know it’s me? “Besides why are you getting so defensive?” Edward challenged. “It almost sounds as if you’re mad.”

“It’s just I know what kind of girl she is.” He defended, throwing his hands up and sitting back in his seat a bit. “She wouldn’t cheat on the man she loves. And I’m sure she cares about what you think.” Taking in his words after a moment, Edward chuckled to himself. His dad was right, you had to care about him. Why else would you still be here despite how much he had put you through. 

“Thanks dad. I think I was worried about nothing for a second there.” In the back of his mind, he still knew you were sleeping around, but now he was certain that it was all done as a cry for help. You just wanted his attention. He felt silly. He smiled to himself, then to his father. Tony returned a weak smile; the rest of his face couldn’t fake the empty sentiment. Fortunately, or rather unfortunately, you came in to distract them. You came bounding down the staircase on your way to make some breakfast before your trek to school. Both of the men instantly averted their attention away from each other, to instead lay it onto you. 

It was a cool fall day, so you were wearing a cropped white turtleneck that you paired with a pleated floral skirt. Long tan thigh high boots hugged your brown legs in just the right way, and you wore a simple (but expensive) necklace that Tony purchased for you. You used to care, but now you thought nothing of it since you knew Edward never paid any attention to you. Today happened to be one of those days that you were wrong. While Edward silently fumed over your choice of jewelry, Tony thought of new ways to violate you. With your consent, of course. 

Focused on the iPad in your hands, you failed to notice anyone else in the room until you heard the creak of a wooden chair. Looking up from your device, you were greeted by the men of the house eyeing you meticulously. “Oh sorry. Good morning” you smile, shy from the sudden attention.

“Good morning sweetheart” “–Morning babe.” Tony and Edward say simultaneously, surprising each other, and surprising you. As they say it,  their necks snap towards each other for just a second and their expressions match; furrowed brows and clenched jaws. Your eyes widen for a second before you continue on with your business. 

Before swallowing the awkward silence, Tony begins, “You’re down here pretty early. Do you have something important to do?” 

“I don’t have anything planned, I just wanted to wake up early to get some things done before class.” You returned, searching the cupboards.  

Upon hearing your plans to do nothing, Edward sparked up an idea. He cleared his throat, and rose from his seat to hesitantly trudge over to you. At the moment, you were standing on your toes trying to reach your favorite coffee mug in the top of the cupboard. Tony always placed it there to watch you struggle, just like he was doing right now. While taking pleasure in how cute you looked bouncing up and down, he hadn’t noticed Edward leave from his seat until he blocked his view. He shadowed your form to place a hand over yours bringing down your mug. Slightly startled, by his touch, you dropped it. It fell into his hand before it could shatter on the floor. “I’m sorry for scaring you.” He chortled, turning his lips into his famous sexy grin. It did nothing but repulse you. 

“Its fine.” As you take your mug and turn away from him to pour your coffee, Edward wraps his hands around your hips to turn your body towards him. You were now facing Tony, but even if you weren’t you would be able to sense the daggers he was throwing into Edward’s back. His orange juice glass was on the verge of shattering, and the wood on the table threatened to splinter his fingers, from the grip he had on it. He wasn’t supposed to touch you. 

“So I was thinking” Edward began, dragging his thoughts out. “Since you don’t have any plans, I’m taking you out tonight.” You mentally cursed yourself for going into detail about your day in front of him. Mouth agape in utter disgust, you were at a loss for words. Tony could think of a few he wanted to say; however, but he stayed silent. Edward took your silence as surprise. In his eyes, you were happy to finally be spending some time with him. Everyone just stared at each other. Edward at you, you at Edward, and Tony back and forth between the both of you. “I can tell you’re happy.” His hands began to roam up and down your sides as he spoke. He drew a line up your spine, and pressed his lips to your ear before whispering, “Make sure to wear something sexy—”

“Edward sweetie, as the boss, don’t you think you should be at work bright and early.” Tony advised. Saving both you, and Edward. He worked very hard to ensure his words didn’t fall through gritted teeth.

Without taking his eyes off of you, Edward rolled them and smirked at you, as if you too were frustrated with Tony for cock-blocking. He quickly pecked your lips and went to grab his workbag. Your eyes followed his movement about the room. Just before exiting the house, he turned back to you to say “Be ready at seven” and then he turned the knob to leave.  

You, Tony, and silence were all alone together. You didn’t dare look at him, but the side of your face was burning from the glare he had on it. Acting as if nothing happened, you turn back around to prepare your day.  

Still staring in your direction, it was now Tony’s turn to get up. He leaped from his seat to take long strides towards you. He stopped just short of where you were standing, waiting for you to acknowledge him. You tried to busy your hands with your current task, cracking eggs into a bowl, waiting for him to break the silence; he was waiting for you to do the same. The sound of egg yolks hitting the surface of the bowl, followed by the stirring of a whisk were the only noises to be heard in the kitchen. 

“Yes, my love?” You ask after a few moments, the quiet becoming too unbearable. 

“Why aren’t you looking at me?” He replied, eyes boring into the side of your head. 

“Tony what are you talking about. I’m busy.” You sigh, growing annoyed. 

“Well fine, if you won’t look me in the eyes, can you at least answer me this? What. The Fuck. Was That?” He asked, soaking his words in drama. He placed his hand flat onto the counter awaiting an answer.

“I honestly don’t know.” You answer truthfully, still whisking your eggs. 

“Well did you two make up?” Tony pressed.

“No, I guess—”

“Well then why did he kiss you?”

“Tony, I don’t know wh—”

“Well then why don’t you know?”

“Could you let me finish!” You shouted before giving him your undivided attention. Your outburst both surprised and shut him up. “I don’t know why he kissed me. I don’t know why he asked me out on a date. We did not make up, because as usual we don’t say a word to each other. Fucking hell, this has been the first time in a year since we’ve been in the same room for longer than a minute, besides when we’re asleep.” You end your rant with this “All that I know is this, I don’t care. I’m not going on that date because I would rather spend the night with you. To be completely frank, I think I’d rather spend the night in a closet with murderous clowns, than go on a date with your shitty son.” With that, you walk away to aggressively click on the stove to begin cooking your breakfast. 

“Well,” Tony began, only slightly taken aback. “I know he’s shitty, but you didn’t have to say it. He is still my son, so I’m the only one who reserves the right to call him a shitty.” He chuckled, leaning opposite to you against the counter, looking down to observe your actions. 

“And to that I say, when you do a piss-poor job at raising a man to respect women, then anyone reserves the right to call them shitty.” You comment, meeting his eyes with a small smile before turning back to your  cooking. 

Tony smirked at your remark. “Blame his mom, because I’m a total feminist.” He grasped your chin to turn it towards him, bringing his face down to kiss yours before abruptly stopping. He took a paper towel from the bar, and began wiping your lips, earning a glare from you, that soon turned into a fit of laughter. His smirk only grew wider at his successful attempt to diminish your anger. 

“You make me sick.” You roared, calming down from your fit, before wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him in for a deep kiss. When you were ready to let go, Tony wasn’t. Ignoring his needy looks, you turned back around to your task at hand. Like that, the mood changed from light-hearted, to serious in an instant. Unsatisfied, Tony moved from his spot at the counter to wrap his arms around your middle, pulling you flush against his chest. 

“You know I could get used to you yelling at me. It really turns me on” he said, rocking from side to side which made you sway in his arms. 

“Babe.”

“Hmm.” He hummed, rubbing a finger down your spine the same way Edward did earlier, only this time instead of chills and shivers, you felt warm tingles. 

Not now.” You warned, already knowing where this was going. He pushed a bang behind your ear to admire your neck.

“Why not. Can’t you skip school for just one day?” Tony responds, fanning his lips over your ear.

“ No. No I cannot.” You reply, trying to overlook the kisses he planted against your neckline, and the traveling hands against your curves. 

“Then just be a little late.” He said, palming your chest, taking his time to massage the fleshy mounds. You lose your composure as he brings a hand down your sternum to dip underneath your skirt. You both groaned, him at how wet you were, and you at how good his hands felt. “Besides I know you wanna stay a little longer.” His voice was shaky and husky, and he was about to snap, which made your knees like jelly. 

“Tony, please.” You were going for stern, but your demands came out in labored pants. You felt his hardened member pressed against your ass and back, and you knew if you didn’t stop him now, there was no way you were leaving the house any time soon. You unfastened his hands from your waist, and pushed him away from you before continuing your cooking. You cleared your throat to say “Maybe later.”

Seemingly defeated, Tony started with a sigh “Fine. No more teasing. But I’m hungry.” 

“I have time to make you some French toast or pancakes.” You respond, placing your cooked breakfast on a plate and turning the stove off. 

“I think I’ll have you instead.” He says, before planting one more kiss beneath your ear.

“No thanks love.” You chuckle. 

“I wasn’t asking,” he retorted, before hoisting you up by your knees and placing you on the island away from the stove. You laugh in the process, knowing that this was inevitable. Upon sitting you down, his lips were on yours in an instant. Hurried sloppy kisses, covered your mouth and jaw as he explored your body with his fingers. As he traced his the index along your collarbone he realized he found new things to worship every time. His lips were hot and wet on your skin, both burning and soothing everything in their path. Breaking the kiss for just a moment, he brushed passed your shoulder  to push everything that was on the kitchen-top’s surface to the ground. 

“You’re cleaning that up this time.” You exhaled, before grabbing his face to bite his bottom lip, something you knew drove him crazy. 

“Fuck it princess, it’s worth it.” He groaned, before roughly pushing you down, while being careful enough to not injure your head. He reached up your thighs and under your skirt, to pull your panties down your legs and over your boots. 

“Let me take these off” you suggest, lifting the band to your shoes, but he raised his hand up to stop you, eyeing you through his tousled brown locks. 

“I like them on.” He pressed a gentle kiss against your exposed skin, before saying “I’m keeping these by the way.” in reference to your lacy black underwear, before stuffing them in his back pocket. He bent down to pepper love-marks along each leg before lifting your skirt to place a soft kiss against your entrance. There was no time for him to be a tease, so he quickly dived his tongue between your folds, and he began writing his full name into your lips. The name Anthony Edward Stark felt both long and short, as it was being etched into your core. Shocks of what felt like electricity rippled through your spine, as your pussy purred to his beckoning. You were a fucking mess. He let a string of spit fall from his lips and onto yours, before flattening his tongue to gather the mixture, slurping and suckling in the process . Your eyes started to roll to the back of your head, until Tony pinched your clit. This became his favorite signal for you to give him your attention, the jolt always conflicted your pain and pleasure receptors. You loved and hated eye contact. That feeling of vulnerability sent your mind into a frenzy. But Tony refused to let you look away; he was obsessed with the way your face looked when you came undone. He began making the lewdest sounds against your cunt, tonguing it in the same way he’d do your mouth. You made a mess of his face. Your juices were dripping down your folds and in between your cheeks; what his tongue didn’t catch spilled onto the island. With his face buried in your box, his nose would lightly brush your clit, sending you straight into ecstasy. 

You slightly squeezed around his head, only to have him pry your legs open. His tongue fucked your hole, making you clench around it.  You were already so close, but Tony wanted this to last—that way, you’d be bursting at the seems by the time he was finished with you. “Someone wants to be fucked senseless, doesn’t she?” He asked as he raised up, licking his lips. Smirking down at you, he lifted your sweater up to your chin, in order reveal your happy breasts. He then pulled your bra under them to get a full view of the spread.  

Dragging you closer to the edge, he massaged his fingers into your pussy, running them through your lips, while watching you squirm underneath his touch. He placed a hand between your thigh, kneading the immediate area with his thumb. He was enjoying the view, but knew that he only had a few minutes left; so, he pulled his pants down, coated his length with the hand he previously used to massage you with, and sunk into you no warning. 

You took in a sharp breath, tears welling in your eyes and chest rising and falling. As many times as you had been with him, you still weren’t used to his size. “Shit, kitten. I’m sorry, I thought you were ready for me” he swore, grunting at the feel of you. Despite the overwhelming pleasure, he wouldn’t move until you said it was okay. 

When the pain subsided pleasure quickly took over. You looked him in his eyes to say “Please wreck me baby.” He crooked his neck to look at you sideways for a second as if to ask ‘are you sure?’, dick twitching inside of it. You were more than sure. Then, before you were able to comprehend he snapped his hips forward, drilling into you at a brutal pace. Your moans and pants turned into screams, and you braced your hands against his abs. He grabbed your wrists to steady himself, so that he could thrust deeper into you. He loved this shit. The way your chest bounced. Your broken moans and cries. Even the expressions you wore, were enough to spur him on. 

“I can do this all day!” He growled, relentlessly hammering into you. He thought your tight little cunt was euphoria. At this point you felt like he was in your stomach, threatening to go further. You felt your dam about to break once more, but he was a step ahead of you. 

He sat you up and pulled you off the counter, quickly turning you around, ridding you of your orgasm again. Frustrated, you wiggled your ass, and pressed it against him, desperate for his touch. This earned you a harsh slap against the cheek. “Don’t play that game with me, unless you don’t wanna walk for a week” he warned before digging his nails into your skin. Within a second after that, his cock vanished behind your walls, instantly hitting your g-spot. You yelped throwing your hands back to cushion the slaps between his thighs and your own. Tony grabbed them, and like before,  used them to pull you back onto him. “No, no princess. Take all of me baby. I want you to feel it all.” He growled, slamming his frustrations into you. The cabinet doors below you were shaking from the impact of your thighs. Your nipples, slid across the cool countertops as Tony stroked in and out you. You laid your head down on the counter, strength leaving you as he rocked you back and forth.

To reach a better angle, he grabbed one of your knees, lifting it to lay beside your hip against the counter. He then leaned over, so that your back was against his chest. “This pussy is mine, do you understand?”

“Yes daddy.” You whimper. 

“I’m sorry what was that?” He challenges, grabbing a fistful of curls to yank, lifting you both back up.

“I said yes daddy” you shout, approaching your orgasm once more. 

Tony roughly grabs your chin to turn it towards him, pressing his forehead against yours. “I can tell you’re close princess. I can feel you getting tighter around me. But good girls always ask before they cum. Beg for it.” He whispered. 

You knew he wasn’t joking, but you wore your worried expression on your face. “Don’t be shy kitten. It’s just you and me.” He assured, lightly kissing your lips as he spoke. 

“Please let me cum Tony.” 

“Do you think you deserve to?” He questioned, suddenly ticked off from Edward’s bold gestures earlier. His lips ghosted over yours and he began slowing his moments, to really pound himself into your core. “You’re a filthy little slut for letting another man touch you.” On any other occasion, his words would have pissed you off, but in this moment they just made you wetter. 

“I only want you to touch me daddy, I’m sorry” You whine, throwing your ass back onto his cock, determined to take your orgasm, but wary of the consequences if you do. 

He gripped your neck with one hand, and grabbed a tit with the other. He fondled and massaged the breast, while applying pressure with the hand on your neck. He places his face to the side of yours, chin hairs tickling your cheek.“Do you promise to never let that happen again? Hmm?’” He presses, squeezing your breast and tweaking your nipple. All of this was happening while he was continuing his movements in and out of you.

“I promise baby, please just let me cum.” You screamed. You were losing your composure, and your vision was becoming blurry from tears. He had denied you one too many times, and you didn’t know if you could hang on any longer. You were pleading with him at this point. 

“Cum” was all he said, as you coated his dick in your juices. Tony followed you not a second after, shooting his load up, feeling it come oozing down his member. He bit into your shoulder-blade to suppress his moans. You however lets yours come out in an almost embarrassing shriek. You had no shame though, Tony had brung you out of your shell many, many orgasms ago. 

Now a sweaty mess, he unsheathed himself, and leaned down to place a kiss on your back before readjusting your sweater and skirt. He then turned to readjust himself. 

“I know you’re gonna hate what I am about to say,” he warned, buckling his belt and bracing himself for your reaction, “but you should go on the date.”

“What, why?” You questioned, turning to face him, confused by his suggestion. Was he tired of this? Was he tired of you?

“I just don’t want this to end. So…to not raise any suspicion, you should go out, and have fun.” He stated before averting his gaze. He clearly didn’t want you to, but he knew you needed to. 

“Tony I’m not going.” You stated, fixing your hair and walking away to collect your items for school. “He didn’t even ask me, he told me. So I don’t want to do this.” You pout. 

Trailing behind you slowly, he asked this question “So if he had asked you, would you have been more willing to go.” You were kneeling down to adjust the straps on your school bag at the moment, but you stopped to survey him. His hands were buried in his pockets, and his shoulders were squared. He wasn’t the usual sure of himself cocky man you’d come to know, for a minute he seemed insecure. 

“Tony, I wouldn’t want to go period.” You confirmed, raising up to stand at his level. You unplanted his hands from his pockets, and clasped them to your own, stroking his knuckles. 

“Sweetheart,” he started. He let go of your hands to so that he could cup your cheeks. “I think you have to baby.”

“Ugh.” You loudly scoffed, letting his hands go to walk back into the kitchen and grab your breakfast. Your eggs were cold now, so you searched for an apple and a granola bar instead,  as Tony continued his case. 

“Listen, Edward knows about us. Well, not us specifically, but he knows you’re with someone. Without him, there is relatively no reason for us to continue…us. It would look bad if we still remained close with each other if your relationship with him ended.”

“Tony I’ve been living here for over a year now. I think it would be even weirder if I just cut off ties with you completely” you sneered, violently flinging the refrigerator door open in search for the string cheese. Tony mirrored your movements, and slammed the door back. 

“Sweetpea, could you just think about it.” He pleaded, while talking with his hands and peering down at you with his chocolate orbs. Butterflies started to flutter in your stomach, at the new pet name he assigned you. He always tried out different ones for different situations, and this one just happened to fit this one. “We always knew this was a difficult relationship. Even if you guys ended on good terms, dating me right after would not be the greatest idea. At least if you’re with Eddy, we have more time to figure things out. Please.” 

Contemplating his words, you knew he was right. But that didn’t change the fact that you hated it.  “Fine. I’ll go on this stupid ass date.” As you said it, the word date was laced in venom, venom that you wished to reserve for Edward’s veins. “How are you okay with all of this though? Whats your secret?”

He thought about it for a moment, and then replied, “I’m not” before pursing his lips and looking down at his feet.  Weirdly enough, you needed to hear that. Knowing that you both were going through this dread together oddly made you feel better. You grabbed his chin to lean in for a passionate kiss. Your taste from earlier still lingered on his tongue. 

“Everything is going to be fine.”  You assured, gazing up at him. 

“Ya, I know.” He smiled, before looking down at his watch. “Well not everything, because you’re late for class again.”

“Shit!” You screeched. He watched as you sprinted through the door after scrambling to grab your stuff, all before he could even blink. 

“I love you, Y/N.” He said to himself, as he waved at your fleeting car. 

——————————————————

“How does this one look?”

“No. No. No. That slit is entirely too high!”

“Tony, it’s literally below the knee. And you’re the one that chose it!”

“Too much skin. Next.”

“Yea well he has seen me naked before so.” You mumbled. 

“What was that? Yea maybe this whole thing was a bad idea. You were  right kid, take it off and we’ll come up with an excuse as to why you couldn’t go.” He was worried. He became worried after the first dress. Though he would never admit it, you knew when he was upset. He would place his glasses on his face and get to talking faster than normal. 

“Baby, like I said earlier, everything is going to be fine. Trust me.” You assured, as you went to get changed into the 7th dress of the night. 7:00 o’clock was approaching faster than normal. You had been home for a few hours now, so you and Tony mentally prepared yourself. He drew you both a hot bubble bath to calm your nerves, but it didn’t do much for them.  As the time got closer, it got harder to convince each other, that this was fine. At the moment, it was your turn to persuade Tony.

You came back into the room, in a flirty fit and flare dress. Though the dress was less than a foot away from your ankles, it hugged your curves perfectly. “Hell no. Are you trying to give me a heart attack?” He shouted. He had crossed and uncrossed his legs so many times at this point, you thought he’d pull a muscle. He got up to pace the room. You had never seen him worry this much. 

You met him from across the room, skipping to stand behind him. As you hugged his back, you stood on your tippy toes to press your chin on his shoulder. “Honey,” you cooed, “it might help if you told me exactly what you were afraid of.”

“I’m a grown ass man Y/N, there isn’t much that I’m afraid of.” He retorted. 

Aware of the sudden attitude, you reply “Fine, maybe afraid is the wrong word. Let’s say nervous. What’s got you so anxious?”

He placed his hands on top of yours  before sighing, “I don’t want him to steal your heart. But I also don’t want my son to be hurt. I really don’t want to lose you, but I also feel like I am being selfish towards you both.” He turned around after making his last point, entangling your fingers together. “Most of all, I don’t wanna lose you.” 

You placed your head on his chest and chuckled, the gesture sending small vibrations through him.“You said ‘I don’t wanna lose you’ like three times already.”

“Well I don’t. And you know what, who gives a fuck about me being selfish. I am that way when it comes to you. And don’t I get to be?” He asked the question more to himself than to you. 

“Yes pumpkin.”

“I know. I mean, I’ve failed him as a parent you know? If he doesn’t have the decency to appreciate someone as wonderful as you, then I have failed him. I don’t know what to do. I usually do, but I just don’t this time.” You had never seen Tony be so vulnerable before. Over the past year, he had seen you in so many compromising situations that would have made any other man run straight for the heels. But you seldom saw him in those same compromising situations. This was new, and while you always liked new, this was scary. You feared, that he saw an end to this before you could. 

“It is going to be okay.” That was all you could say. He sighed, and placed a kiss against your forehead before speaking. 

“Y/N,  I’ve been wanting to tell you,—”

“Dad! Y/N!” You heard Edward yell. You two quickly removed yourself from each other, just before he could make the room. You ran back into your bathroom to slip into another gown. When Edward came in, he was surprised to find his father in his room. “I was looking for you, but I didn’t expect to find you in here.” He began changing out of his work clothes, to freshen up. 

“Well yea, she asked me to help her pick a dress.”

“I hope you helped me out here. I am trying to get laid tonight.” He admitted, winking at his dad. Tony just stared at him blankly. Taking his expression as disapproval for his choice of word, he awkwardly laughed, “Oh come on dad, don’t get stiff on me now, you know you taught me everything I know.” He began changing into his date attire, before realizing something was missing. He went to look in your shared bathroom. 

Attempting to walk in, the door was immediately slammed back into his face. He was embarrassed that it happened in front of Tony, who was currently chuckling on your bedroom couch. Regaining his cool, he knocked on the door. “Babe, I need to get in for a sec.”

“I’m in here.” You replied, with short words and short tones. 

“Yea babe, I know you’re in there, the thing is I need to be in there too.” He was annoyed, but you were already pissed about going out with him. Especially since he interrupted his dad from earlier. What was he gonna say? You thought. 

“Well you’re gonna have to fucking wait Edward.”

“Listen, if this is about your dress, I’m gonna be happy with whatever you put on for me okay?” He assured. 

“No, Edward. This is about me not wanting you to see me naked.” You corrected. “Now you could either wait, or forget about the entire date.”

“Well, I guess that means you’re not getting laid tonight.” Tony teased, fighting the shit-eating grin, that threatened to plaster his face. It got harder when Edward looked at him with the biggest death-glare .

Why does the bastard seem happy about that? he thought to himself. “Whatever. There’s always next time.” He stated matter-of-factly, not noticing the joy that left his father’s eyes. “Do you have any cologne that I can borrow?” He was still annoyed but it was fleeting. You two were not going to ruin his night. He would have you by the end of it. 

“Uh, yea I left it in the downstairs bathroom, follow me.” Edward found it hard to read Tony at the moment. As mentioned before, the older man rarely lost his composure. Those closest to him, knew his ticks, but by no means were Tony and Edward close. Father and son, maybe, but they would never be friends. Edward always took to his mother, listening to the poison she spewed in his ears from the time he was old enough to understand. To him, Tony was a terrifying, self-entitled, know-it-all, who never granted mercy tho anyone, even those he loved.  

Up until recently, he saw that that wasn’t true, or if it had been it was in the past now. As he followed him down the staircase, they reached the bathroom where the cologne resided. Tony, trying to play nice, handed Edward a tiny glass bottle. The bottle itself probably cost over a thousand dollars, what did that say about the tawny brown liquid inside. “Thanks man.” Was all he said, as he carelessly took it. 

“Hey, you be careful with that! It cost more than your entire outfit.” 

He spritzed the liquid onto his collar and wrists before speaking “This smells really good. What is this again? I feel like I’ve smelled this before.”

“Forget about the damn cologne Edward. We need to talk about Y/N.” His demeanor turned serious, as he addressed you. 

“What is there to talk about?” He questioned, tousling with his hair in the mirror.

“She’s fragile right now, and I just don’t think you should force yourself onto her.”

“Woah, woah, woah. I’m not a rapist.”

“That’t not what I’m saying at all. The very fact that that’s the first thing your mind jumped to is alarming to say the least. Whatever, anyway, I’m saying that you can be a little aggressive with your approach. She doesn’t appreciate your selfish nature.”

“Selfish? Did she tell you that?” He stopped with his hair and eyed him through the mirror. 

“All that I am saying is that you may win more points with her, if you ask her about what she wants.” Tony didn't even know why he bothered trying to help him. In all honesty, he was just trying to to help you.

“Dad, you just let her call me selfish? I am your son, shouldn’t you care more about what I think?”

“You literally just proved her point. And shouldn’t you want to be more attentive to your girlfriend’s needs?”

“Why are you two so close? Don’t you think that’s a little weird?” He inspected his father skeptically. He turned around to slowly look him up and down before continuing “Whose side are you on?”

Tony stood firm. He made sure to show no sign of weakness. “I’m on her’s.” His eyes burned a hole through Edward, and the younger boy bit back his anger to cower his head away from his father’s menacing look.

“Let’s go, before I change my mind.” They both perked their heads up to look at you standing through the bathroom’s doorway. 

You were wearing a silk mauve spaghetti-string top, paired with pearl colored high-waisted wide-leg dress pants; those were held together by a simple Gucci belt. A chic baggy blazer that matched the pants graced your arms, and three-tier pearl earrings dangled from your lobes. Your perfectly manicured cream colored nails clutched a large white wristlet against your person. You sported a curly shoulder-length bob, and your makeup was done to look natural. On your feet were a pair of costly looking suede heels whose color resembled your top; their points were so sharp they could puncture skin. You looked more ready for a business meeting, than a date. 

“Wow babe” Edward started, eyeing you in detail. “You look great, but I thought you were gonna wear something a bit more comfortable.”

“Well Edward, you said you would be happy with whatever I chose.”

“I mean I am but—”

“You look amazing.” Tony interjected, eyeing you a little too long for Edward’s liking. 

“I mean don’t act so surprised, I am a boss ass bitch” You respond feeling shy all of a sudden. You broke eye contact to bite your bottom lip and examine your feet. How could your stomach still swarm and your face still heat up after all this time. 

He cleared his throat before saying, “Right well, you guys have a date to attend. I hope you have fun” He turned to Edward to adjust his collar, “But not too much fun.” He left it at that for a moment before adding, “Because ya know, I’m too pretty to be a granddad right now.” He patted his chest and turned him so that he could push him out of the door.

He stopped you before you could follow, to say in a hushed tone,  “You look beautiful. Hurry back please.”

“I’ll try. Don’t worry.” You gave him a small smile, before turning to leave. 

He grabbed your hand to whip you around and slam the door. He pressed you against it, hands on either side of your head. 

“Tony what the fuc—”

“Say the word and we can call it off.”

“Honey, at this point it’s too late. He’d know something is up if we did that.”

“Do you think I give a flying fuck what he thinks. Come on just say the word.”

“Tony, I am going. We won’t be long. So don’t worry.” You grabbed his cheeks to peck his lips. 

He released his hands from their spot on the door and reopened it to a confused Edward. “Sorry.” He directed towards him. “It looked like she had a gaping hole in her pant leg. Couldn’t let it ruin your date.” He was always a terrible liar, and as he said it, he watched your retreating movements to the vehicle. 

“Thanks for looking out,” Edward said sarcastically before following your steps. He tried to open it for you, but you ensured that you could open the door yourself in a cold manner.

When you got into the car, you prepped yourself for the long night before you. If you had looked back at Tony’s expression, you may have never left with Eddy. 

———————————————————————

Shit. You thought, as you pulled up to the restaurant. Of course it had to be one that you and Tony frequented a lot. Every time they saw him, they called you both by name. You should have known something was up when the drive took an hour outside the city. 

“Eddy, why don’t we go somewhere else.” You say as you slide down in your seat. “This place looks expensive.”

“I want to try this. I’ll take care of the bill.” He was being short with you now. It was due to the lack of communication during the entire drive. No matter how hard he tried he just couldn’t get more than two words out of you. You almost felt bad, but that diminished when you saw him shamelessly checking out a girl who was passing by your car. You didn’t even care about it, you were just annoyed that he did it in your presence even though it was his idea to take you out. 

“Fine.” You retort, unbuckling your seatbelt to beat him inside. You felt that if you got in before him, you could warn the staff not to mention Tony, or your being there before. Too bad Edward’s legs were way longer than yours. 

“Slow down, I’m the one who made the reservations.” He ran up to walk beside you. He sensed you sense him checking the other woman out, and took your sudden mood shift as jealousy. “Don’t worry baby, she wasn’t even that pretty.” He snaked an arm around your waist, which made you recoil away. He opened the glass doors for you, and you were immediately embraced with the familiar smell of French cuisine. The ambiance was soft and warm, and the lights were dim as golds and yellows lay in the scenery. Being here without Tony wasn’t the best, but at least you felt somewhat at home.  

As the two of you approached the maître d’s desk, the jolly man lit up at the sight of you. Samuel was the sweetest, and sassiest person you had ever come to know. The fact that he could be both was why you loved him.

“Aww ma cherré! C'est si gentil à vous de nous rejoindre ce soir!” Samuel exclaimed. He was elated to see you since it had been a while. 

“Tu m'as manqué Samuel!” You were happy to see him as well and expressed how much you missed him. 

“You two know each other?” Edward inserted, causing Samuel to focus his attention on him. 

“Well no. I just read his name tag.” You said nervously.

“Qui est-ce?” Samuel asked, trying to figure out who Edward was. He was currently sizing him up. This wasn’t his precious Tony.

“What did he say? I knew I should have gone somewhere, where they speak English” Edward complained. 

Samuel mumbled something about Edward being an entitled prick, which made it hard for you to suppress a smile. “He asked what was the reservation name under.”

“Ahh, it’s under Stark! I am the one who called ahead 3 hours ago!” Edward shouted, like the asshat he was.

“Monsieur, I understand English. I’m from New York.” Samuel stated with an attitude. “However speaking French helps set the tone for this environment. Also, if you yell at a person who you presume to speak a different language, it makes you look like an obnoxious prick.” You couldn’t suppress your smile this time. 

“Is it customary to speak like that to your guests too?” Edward challenged, making both you and Samuel’s smile falter. 

“Non monsieur.” He replied, the confidence from before had left now. 

“Yea I didn’t think so. I would like you and your staff to speak English to me for the rest of the night.” He informed, a menacing smirk playing on his face. “I should see that you take care of those who give you service.” 

“Yes sir. Allow me to lead you to your table.”  You tugged on the cuffs of his jacket to look at him with sorry eyes. “ Ahh Mrs. Y/L/N, will you be taking your usual spot on the roof—”

You looked at him with wide eyes before you said “Monsieur!” You shouted. You guys had stopped, “Could you show me to the restroom! I am sorry I cannot hold my bladder any longer.”

“But you already know—” Samuel you idiot! You thought to yourself. 

“Restroom please!”

“Okay okay, just a minute!” Your outbursts were out of character, so he was just now realizing something was wrong. “You can sit here sir. Right this way ma’am.”

When you two got  out of earshot, that’s when you tackled him with a hug. “I am so sorry he treated you like that.”

“It’s not your fault, my dear. But who is that son-of-a-bitch.”

You rolled your eyes and scoffed before saying, “That’s Tony’s son. We are dating.”

“Wait! No what happened with you and Tony!”

“Nothing, we are fine…we just met at the wrong time.” 

“Ahh, does he know that you are dating his son?” You basically just told Samuel that you were dating two people who were blood-related, and he didn’t bat an eye-lash. 

“Of course he knows! Edward doesn’t though, so if it isn’t too much to ask, please tell everyone to act as if they never met me. I would really appreciate it.”

“Anything for my favorite girl! You stupid bitch, I can't believe you didn't tell me all this juicy gossip.” He winked at you before leading you back to your table. 

You sat down in the booth and let your blazer fall from your arms. All of a sudden you felt nervous, but determined to play nice. Edward’s irritation took on a new level, and you forgot that you were supposed to be “rekindling” your relationship. All you had done this entire evening was make it worse. You almost forgot how to talk to him, being alone only made things worse. He was sitting opposite to you, examining his menu. And when he spoke it was cold. 

“I took the liberty to order us some drinks while you were off talking with that server.” So he knew you had lied about the bathroom, yet his eyes hadn’t left his menu. Maybe he was trying to decipher the French, and wasn't really worried about you.

“I don’t drink anymore.” You declared.

“So much has changed about you. Like you speak French now, when did that happen.” His voice was like liquid turned into stone. Hard but smooth at the same time. 

“I took an online class.” You lied. Tony was the one to teach you. “I have an internship in Paris that requires me to learn it.” That part was true though

“Does that internship pay you ahead of time?” He glanced up from his menu to meet your gaze.

“It doesn’t pay me at all.” Your brows furrowed. Where was he going with this? 

“Oh. You know I just thought it did, since you can afford Gucci, and what is that?” He asked referring to your wristlet “That’s a Valentino right? Oh and let’s not forget the Louboutin’s on your feet!” He was losing his cool now. 

“Eddy you’re gonna cause a scene. Lower your voice.” You hiss. 

Fortunately your waitress came over to distract him for a second. “Bonjour, je m'appelle Elise. Je serais heureux de te servir ce soir.” You knew Elise, but you had to act as if you didn’t. You hoped that when she looked away from her notepad, she wouldn’t recognize you.

“English please. I already told your host this.” He was already an ass, but now he was being plain rude. 

The peppy red-head looked up from her notes to examine him. Her doe-like eyes wide in terror that quickly turned into joy upon noticing you. 

“Y/N! It’s so nice to see you!” She looked around for a second before looking back to you, “Where is Mr Stark?” You held your breath at the mention of Tony. I guess Samual hadn’t warned Elise yet. 

“I am Mr. Stark.” Edward rudely inserted. You were relieved he didn’t realize the error, until he spoke again “Look. We’re not ready to order yet. So why don’t you come back later. Fuck off” He waved his hand in a dismissive behavior, before turning back to you.

You watched the girl bow her head before quickly retreating.“Why do you have to be such a fucking dick?” 

“What? Do you think I hurt your little friend’s feelings? Why did you act like you’ve never been here before.” His nostrils began to flare, as he sat up from his seat.

“I haven’t—.”

“Don’t fucking bullshit me Y/N. I heard him ask you about your usual spot on the roof. You must think I am an idiot.” He snarled. “I asked about it before reserving the restaurant. My point is that I know it costs more than your tiny bank account could hold. So what, did you plan on freeloading off of me and my dad, while your sugar daddy takes care of you too?”  

“Don’t speak to me like this.” You state through gritted teeth. Your eyes were starting to water from his interrogation, but you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing you cry. 

“Who pays for it? Hmm? Is it the same person who put those hickeys on your chest? Or is it the person who bought you that cheap ass bracelet.” Before you knew it, he grabbed your wrist to snatch off the Cartier bracelet Tony got you for valentine’s day. It meant the world to you, since he had the words ‘My heart belongs to you, T.S.’ engraved inside it.  You watched the jewels bounce and clatter on to the hard-wood floor. Rolling under feet and nearby tables. People were starting to look over, but you didn’t care. You also didn’t care about the tears that spilled from your eyes. 

Edward sat back in his chair, and rubbed a hand through his hair while acknowledging your tears. He coldly mocked these next words “What’s wrong. Can’t he afford to buy you a new one?” 

“Yea.” You said, voice shaking, while your eyes remained on the floor. You turned back to him to say, “Maybe if I fuck him good enough, he’ll get me an even prettier one.” His hands began to shake as you watched him go red in the face. He balled his palms into fists, knuckles turning white; a sharp contrast to his crimson fingers. He unexpectedly slammed them on the table, causing you to jump, and the conversations around you to cease. 

“Well maybe he should give you a ride back home while he’s at it, you fucking bitch!” He shouted, spit flying from his mouth. He got up to storm out of the door, pushing passed Elise who was coming back with your drinks. He left you embarrassed, without a way home, and alone. Oddly enough, you weren’t crying because of Edward. You were crying because you felt like you failed Tony.

————————————————————

You arrived home over four hours later, after hailing a taxi. You would have been home sooner, if you didn’t spend the night with Elise, Samuel, and the rest of the staff, insisting on helping them close. You partly helped to make up for the scene you and Edward had caused, and you also wanted to give Edward enough time to get home and go to bed. From the looks of it, he had made it there in just a little under an hour, because that’s when Tony started lighting your phone up. That’s why you stayed longer to wait for him to fall asleep as well. You were an even bigger idiot than Edward if you thought he would be asleep before you made it home. 

He was sitting on the staircase when you unlocked the door to come in. “Are you okay?” He asked, leaping up to stand before you. 

“Yea I’m good.” You respond, tiredly. 

“Good. Because I am fucking livid.” He said in a frantic tone. “What’s wrong with your phone?”

“Nothing. Where’s Edward?”

“He’s asleep. So why didn’t you answer you phone?”

“It died.” 

“Was that before, or after you turned it off? Because I know for a fact that’s what you did. That’s always your excuse when you don’t want to talk to someone.”

“Can we not do this tonight.” He grabbed your shoulders and bent down so that he could look you in your eyes. 

“I would prefer it if we did this now.”

“Well it’s not about what you fucking want all the time,” You snapped.

“Hey. That’s not fair.” Hurt was plastered on every inch of his face. You saw it, so you began to apologize. 

“I’m sorry.” Your voice cracked, and you were about to cry again. “Tony I can’t do this anymore. I can’t live in this house with him anymore. I can’t live this lie any. more.” The tears spilled, and you couldn’t tell who was more hurt at this point, you or Tony. 

He pulled you into his chest, which muffled your sobs. “What am I supposed to say, when you get like this? I can’t bear seeing you cry, princess. What do I do?”

“Please just hold me. Don’t let me go.” You mewled. 

He pulled back to wipe away your tears with the backs of his thumb. “Now when have you ever known me to do something stupid.”

“Everyday.” You laugh. He tapped your nose and gave it a quick kiss, while still cupping your cheeks.

“Yeah, well besides then.” 

“Never.” You whispered. He stared into your eyes lovingly. You two stayed mesmerized in each other for longer than usual. 

“I love you, Y/N. I guess that goes without saying, but I thought you should know.” He confessed. Believe it or not, it was the first time. The two of you never had to say it, because you just felt it. Just knowing it, still wouldn’t beat hearing the actual words though. He had just made it fact in your heart. 

Speaking of your heart, it was beating faster than a hummingbird’s wings, threatening to leap from your chest at any second. The butterflies he gifted you quickly turned into elephants, that threatened to trample your insides, and replace the remains with Peruvian lilies.  Your cheeks were now hot to the touch, and your mouth searched for words that came out in random incoherent spouts.

Tony, suddenly overcome with unsureness started with, “Maybe this wasn’t the right time to—”

“No!” You shouted, “I love you too.” You cried, smiling before you stood on your toes to wrap your arms around him. His arms dropped to your sides, and he pulled you in by your shirt, latching his mouth on yours. This kiss was different from the rest. They all felt good, but this one felt better than them all combined. Taking in all of you, your scent, your taste, your feel, he felt spoiled. He grabbed at the sides of your face to deepen it, while you grabbed at the back of his neck. You both tried your hardest to get closer, but it may have not even been possible, since there was no space left between you. 

You were the first to pull back for air, while Tony still pecked at your lips, stealing wet kisses, that trailed from your mouth to your forehead. He peppered them over your eyelids, nose, and cheeks, desperate to cover every perimeter of the skin. 

You fluttered your eyes open when he was done, smiling up at him though your lashes. His chocolate brown orbs danced with more joy, than you had ever seen, and his pearly whites peered through his goofy grin. He eskimo kissed you, and rest his forehead against yours. You were happier than you had ever been. 

You both snapped your necks towards the sound behind you before you heard Edward say “I should have known it was you.” He, like his dad before, sat at the bottom of the staircase watching the both of you. You two were so wrapped up in each other, you didn’t even hear him walk down.

And just like that, your happiness left the chat. 

  A/N: Sooo... tell me what you think? Also, I proofread, but please let me know if you see any errors. Please like comment and share. To  @swaggysposts​ @scarletsoldierrr​ I am so sorry for posting so late, but I really hope you are still interested. Please tell me what you think!  PART 3 here 

[enviedear]

the last great american dynasty → draco malfoy

DESCRIPTION ⌙ in which y/n l/n buys an old home and quickly becomes the talk of the town

PAIRING ⌙ draco x fem!reader

WORD COUNT ⌙ 2.7k

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

pls enjoy this fic as i write my other four... its proving most difficult to keep up with all of them but i’m trying. and of course this is based off the song the last great american dynasty by taylor :)))

also here is the house i’m going to be referencing :)

when you moved to england your first task was to do as your parents suggested, stay with your distant relative, aurora sinistra. 

and you followed their advice. you tracked down her home. she just happened to be away. she had left a note saying something about how she couldn’t miss some sort of planetary alignment and would be in germany for the next week.

you had decided to explore the new territory and after an hour of walking around the town you met your soulmate, a home. and not just any home, a beautiful large piece of art made of stone. 

the huge house enticed you to climb up the large hill it was sat on. 

up closer you saw the vines and wisteria climbing up the exterior. then more details like the broad windows in need of cleaning, an old oak door, and doric columns that made you feel like you stumbled into a princess story. 

you forgot your normal manners and had entered the home without a knock, pacing slowly through the entryway, studying the decor.

“excuse me?” a voiced called.

you had turned to find a tall brunette woman holding a toddler.

“i’m so sorry! i didn’t mean to just walk up into your home. its just, very beautiful, and i saw a for sale sign by the mailbox.” you had sputtered out.

the woman seemed even more surprised after you had spoken, “are you american?”

“yes?” you had replied, confused.

“it’s just, no one comes here and now i know why you did,” she laughs a little and adjusts the little boy on her hip. “this is a family home of a dark wizard, not many people want to visit a house that has such negative connotations. but i’d love to give you tour if you’re still interested in it?” she asks.

you smile, “i’d love to. i’m y/n by the way.”

andromeda tonks had quickly taken a liking to you and offered you the home. she explained that absolutely no one else would buy it given the fact it used to belong to her sister, who had fought alongside voldemort. 

you didn’t mind the weird history that came along with the home, it was too beautiful to pass up. plus, it wasn’t unlike to you to cause a stir. you took pride in doing things out of the ordinary.

that’s how you came into the possession of the lestrange family home, or as you call it, wisteria house, after the flowers that inhabited the residence.

now, almost a year later, you’re the talk of the town. most of your pureblood neighbors found you too new. you were new money, you were apart of an american half-blood family, and you hosted parties they deemed too loud. however you knew they were tasteful.

you couldn’t care any less about what they thought of you. your home was your everything and you wouldn’t change yourself for some stuck up old families. you found it marvelous ruining everything they deemed sacred.

one of your neighbors in particular, a man named lucius malfoy, had annoyed you to no end. he hated everything about you. andromeda told you several times by now that he proclaimed you a mad woman to anyone who brought you or wisteria house up.

so today, on the fifth of june two thousand and three, you were determined to win this feud.

lucius’ home, malfoy manor was hosting a party tonight, and you were set on ruining everything.

as you entered the mansion, you absentmindedly smoothed out your tight fit gown. it hung off your shoulders and had a tasteful slit on the left side, exposing your leg.

“y/n, come sit with teddy and i!” andromeda calls from a nearby table.

you smile at the woman and take your seat beside her, giving teddy a kiss on the forehead. he in return, makes his hair your favorite color and smiles up at you.

“i didn’t think you’d actually come dear. i know how rude lucius has been to you, but i’m glad you’re being pleasant and showing off your best face.” andromeda says sarcastically, bringing her wine glass to her pointed lips.

you smirk, “lucius deserves to experience my full presence.”

the party kicks off and andromeda introduces you to many people, like harry potter, who you feel very awkward around. you can’t help it, you don’t know how to talk to someone who saved the world.

she also introduces you to lucius, who is carrying around a small poodle like it’s a handbag. he doesn’t say much to you and you don’t mind, his voice annoys you.

you decide to sneak away from andromeda’s conversation with lucius and make your way to a balcony. to the right, you spot your home. you smile to yourself and begin studying the malfoy garden. 

after a little time passes you decide it best to find andromeda again, but before you can take a step lucius’ dog is licking your exposed leg.

“well how did you get here?” you jokingly ask the animal, crouching down to pet it.

the dog leans into your touch and that’s when you have an idea.

when you attended ilvermorny you learned a spell for dyeing flags so that the opposing houses couldn’t change it. it proved a big hit given the thunderbird house liked to turn flags into theirs as a joke during quadpot games.

you could dye the dogs fur so that lucius would have a conniption. the dye was completely safe as well, and you were sure the party guests would love to see lucius attempt to change to dogs fur back.

so you dyed the dog a key-lime green, and let it run back off to its owner.

“i suppose my father was right, you are mad.” a voice says from the hall.

you furrow your brows and step further into the hallway so you can get a look at who’s speaking.

leaning against the wall is a tall, pale, blonde boy. draco. andromeda told you about him. apparently he doesn’t like his father much and to spite him, takes teddy on walks in his garden every saturday and thursday morning.

“you know, people have been saying that my home is cursed to make any woman who lives in it insane. and i must admit after finding your aunt bellatrix’s journal i might have to believe them. her sanity did begin slipping after moving into that home.” you say, raising your eyebrows.

“bella was always mad. but if you keep tormenting my father i think it’ll be him to go insane. not that i don’t enjoy your little pranks on him.” he gushes, letting a small smile creep onto his face.

“i can’t just end your dad an i’s little feud here, draco. it would make me look cowardly,” you tease, biting your lip. “i really don’t even know why he invited me to this party. come to think of it, i don’t even know what we’re celebrating.”

“i invited you. it’s my birthday party.” he replies.

“why thank you for your invitation. may i ask how old you are?” you ask.

“twenty-three at 11:37,” he looks at his pocket watch, “ten more minutes.”

you study him before saying, “you know there’s a wall at my house that shows you the way the stars look. would you like to see how the universe aligns the stars for your birthday?” 

draco runs a hand through his hair, “i’d love to. and i’ve been meaning to see what you’ve done with bella’s old house.”

the two of you quietly sneak out of malfoy manor and into wisteria house. you lead him upstairs and into the sky room. the room had an enormously tall glass ceiling, and was decorated with things aurora had given you.

on the wall furtherest from the door was a live depiction of the stars above. tonight the wall showed a vibrant blue galaxy spotted with deep orange and bright white stars.

“you’re lucky, this is one of the best ones i’ve seen this whole year. the stars must like you.” you sigh, happily.

draco laughs a bit and looks at you, “despite being the town nuisance, i find you rather enjoyable.”

“despite that compliment being backhanded, i find you rather enjoyable as well.” you tease.

draco laughs, “did you know that the sacred twenty eight pureblood families have a nickname for you?”

you shake your head asking him to explain.

“they call you the last great american dynasty because you bought this big house and have money they can’t trace.” he says.

“i cant deny, i kind of like it.” you giggle.

draco looks down to his watch, “one minute and then i’m officially twenty three,” he pauses to smirk a little, “you know this is the age my parents got married, and i suppose my mother will expect the same of me now.”

“i’ve always said the best age to get hitched is twenty three. the brain isn’t fully developed so you can still love like a teenager but have the responsibilities of an adult. i suppose by that logic, i too should be getting married this year.” you joke.

draco smiles before looking at you quizzically.

you furrow your eyebrows, “what is it?” 

“i think i have the perfect way to win your little feud with my father.” 

“and what is that?” you ask.

“let’s get engaged.” he says simply.

“draco, i’m honored but,” you pause, thinking.

what would be the harm in accepting. you could spend however long you wanted mulling over the actual wedding. lucius would have to respect you a little more. and draco seemed to be a nice person.

“you know what, this mad woman wouldn’t mind being engaged to you. so long as you don’t rush me to marry you, and we stay here, at wisteria.” you bargain.

“you’re sure? you haven’t been drinking have you? i’d hate to propose to a woman who won’t remember this in the morning.” he jokes.

“i haven’t had anything other than pumpkin juice tonight. although i can say this is extremely impulsive, i am almost certain i’d like to marry you. i mean i just saw the ways the stars looked on your birthday. that’s the most intimate thing i’ve ever done with someone.” you smile.

“that’s the most intimate-” you cut the boy off with a simple, “of course not, silly.”

the two of you talk through the rest of the night and into the early morning before draco escorts himself home.

the following months were bliss, aside from lucius’ annoyance about you and his sons engagement. draco took you all over britian. you bought some of the best ice cream you’ve ever had from a shop in diagon alley, you visited aurora at hogwarts and met the lovely headmistress named minerva who gleamed at draco every time he spoke, you took draco to meet your parents in november to celebrate thanksgiving, and the two of you did a lot of landscaping for wisteria house.

“guess what tomorrow is.” you instruct your fiancee who is tending to the small wiggentree.

draco wipes the dirt from his forehead and purses his lips in thought, “ah, it’s our engagement party.”

you wink at him and wrap your cloak around yourself more trying to get warm, “precisely. i was thinking we announce the wedding day.”

he chuckles, “why y/n, we won’t be getting married for a while. plus i’d hate to toy with mother by giving her a date she’ll have to wait anxiously for. you know that woman is practically dying to have a wedding. though, i would have thought potters’ would have quenched her thirst.”

you roll your eyes, “we’re announcing the day. march the fourth two thousand and five.”

draco’s eyes widen, “and you’re sure?”

you nod and draco barrels toward you with a hug. it knocks you back a bit but you smile and hold the boy tight against you. 

it didn’t take you long to become enraptured in everything that was draco malfoy. he loved you with a firey passion you longed to never go out.

the wedding day came quickly, but not quick enough for you and your fiancee.

“you know, i must say, this crowd has to be bigger than harry’s on his wedding day.” you say to andromeda, narcissa, and your mom.

“it’s because half of these people are a little too invested in your life. i love you but having your wedding at a former deatheater’s home isn’t exactly normal. i mean i know it’s not bella’s house anymore but the history remains. i can’t say anyone likes a home of a deatheater. no offense sissy.” andromeda says, looking out the window at the large crowd in the garden.

narcissa rolls her eyes and continues weaving the wisteria into your h/c hair. 

“i wish i was better at braiding honey, but narcissa is doing better than i ever could. you were right to have me just doing your makeup.” your mom says, eyeing your mother-in-laws’ handiwork.

“i just can’t believe the day is finally here. my little boy is getting married. i always knew he’d marry a woman who could keep up with him.” narcissa smiles.

after you and your bridesmaids (who consisted of your best friend, andromeda, and your cousin aurora) were ready, narcissa and your mother escort you all down to the venue.

the two mothers smile at you before taking their seats. 

“next time we talk you’ll be a married woman.” your best friend says, nudging your shoulder.

“isn’t it crazy?” you laugh, clutching your flowers.

she gives you a confident look before walking onto the aisle.

soon enough its your turn to walk. the long train of your white dress trails gracefully behind you and your off the shoulder long sleeves keep your arms warm.

the grey eyes at the end of the aisle look at you with such adoration you can’t help but to let out a stray tear.

draco looks regal in his light grey tux. his blonde hair is styled just like it was in a picture you found of him from his sixth year at hogwarts, and his rosy cheeks allude to his nerves.

when you reach him he holds a hand out for you and wipes the tears from your eyes.

your father is officiating the wedding and gives you a smile that only a father can give before starting his speech.

soon enough it’s time for draco to say his vows.

your lover sniffles a bit before speaking, “y/n l/n, for years this house has sat quietly on this hill, free of women with madness and bad habits until two years ago when it was bought by you. y/n, the most brilliant woman i’ve ever met. you ruined all the negativities that came with this home. your nature is unlike anyone else. you always see the best in people and things. you make a friendly competition out of anything and it never fails to amaze me at the way you push yourself. before we met i was out walking with a few old friends from school and you were outside wisteria planting lilac. i remember one of my friends referred to you as loudest woman this town has ever seen. i have to agree, your aura is impossible to escape. but i would never want to escape your madness. everything you do fills me with light. who knows if you never showed up what could have been. i’ve had a marvelous time ruining everything this home used to stand for with you, and i’d be honored to continue doing just that for the rest of my life. i adore you, y/n.” 

your heart begged to reach out and hug him.

“i love you draco malfoy.” you profess.

“i know pronounce you husband and wife, you may now kiss the bride.” your father beams.

draco leans into you and gives you a kiss full of love. all the best things in the universe couldn’t compare to this moment right now. in the end you had two soulmates, one, a home that you poured all your work into and two, a man who you poured your whole being into.

when the two of you break away you smile at your husband, knowing that this is everything you’ve ever wanted.

and the town whispered the same thing years into your marriage, “there goes the last great american dynasty.”

[kingreywrites]

With a little luck

@runningracingdancingchasing​

Fandom: Tangled

Word Count: 2308

16. “I’m trying to cheer you up.” (prompt list)

Summary: Flynn Rider didn't have bad days. He was always charming, always confident, and never ever worried about any kind of consequences. At worst, Flynn disappeared for one or two days, but no one could actually attest of any bad days being had. It was a question of reputation, and all that. Eugene wasn't so lucky, in that regard - oh, he was still charming, still confident, quite funny and dashing if you asked him but he cared.

Note: Thank you for the prompt!! I had trouble settling on one story for it but I hope you like this! Btw, this is set pre-series but post-movie, because I’ve been thinking a lot about Eugene and Rapunzel’s early relationship since i read here in this light by Hannamoon, so I can only recommand people check out this incredible fic!!

Read on ao3

Flynn Rider didn't have bad days. He was always charming, always confident, and never ever worried about any kind of consequences. At worst, Flynn disappeared for one or two days, but no one could actually attest of any bad days being had. It was a question of reputation, and all that. Eugene wasn't so lucky, in that regard - oh, he was still charming, still confident, quite funny and dashing if you asked him but he cared. A lot more than he let on to most people, but Eugene cared, it was in his nature, and Flynn had only tried to bury it. And, as such, Eugene had bad days, and he couldn't even hide out until it passed. Thankfully, along with being Eugene again, he had found a family - and he had found Rapunzel. Eugene's bad days were always better than Flynn's good days when she was here.

Didn't mean he had to like them, though.

It had started easily enough. He was bantering with Cassandra, as they always did - he had even started it himself, so really, he shouldn't be complaining - when she said something. A little jab, in the middle of so many others, nearly nothing really.

"Keep going like this and you'll end up all alone, Fitzherbert."

It had struck a nerve. Eugene had faltered, for barely a second, then had kept going as if everything was fine - and it was, really! But he couldn't get this sentence out of his head afterwards. It was silly, and he knew it - Cassandra had said worse. Come on, he had said worse to her, that was nothing!

But it wasn't.

He had talked more at lunch, because he was nervous and nervous Eugene babbled, and he saw clearly the annoyed glances that Frederic threw his way. Even Arianna, as serene as she always appeared, advised him once or twice to take a little more food, the closest she ever got to outright telling someone to shut up. The problem laid with the fact that Eugene was very good at talking with his mouth full, which garnered another scowl from Frederic, but a giggle from Rapunzel, so he kinda won anyway.

Ending up alone. As a kid, it never made sense to him how that could be a shared fear for orphans - they were already alone, weren't they? He wasn't scared of that at all, he would proudly claim to whoever was willing to listen (mostly Lance), because he never had anyone to begin with and that meant he didn't need anyone. (Except you, Lance, he would add back then.) And all his life, he had tried to prove it, had tried to show that he could do anything he wanted to without help, had dreamt of ending up alone and rich, far away from everyone on an island of his own. He had left the orphanage behind, had left Stalyan behind, had left Lance behind, because he was Flynn Rider and he- he-

Flynn Rider didn't get lonely. (But Eugene did. Eugene was vulnerable and he had hated it, hated the emotions he couldn't stop from flooding him, and his only solution had been to stifle them until he could pretend they didn't exist at all.)

After lunch, Eugene had fled the table in a haste, muttering an excuse he didn't even remember now. He knew Rapunzel still had a lot of activities scheduled, being a Princess and all, and that he had nothing else to do but mope. It was weird, to be so inactive now. As a thief, every day had been a new challenge - he had to keep moving, to keep stealing if he wanted enough money to live. Being able to stay idle was both a blessing, and an incredibly strange feeling at times. It gave him more time to mull over his feelings, in any case. More time to really live through his bad days, without any alcohol to distract himself with, for sure.

Cassandra's remark shouldn't have hurt like it did, because it was illogical. He knew he wouldn't end up alone now - Rapunzel loved him, just as much as he loved her, and- and they were each other's dream and he knew it.

He knew it.

It was simply hard to remember sometimes, because feelings didn't care about logic. He… Had experience in being abandoned, but he had thought that he was done with this feeling at 12, when he decided that he didn't want to be adopted anymore. Eugene was terrified that everything he had gained these last months, everything he had built back for himself once he let go of his life as a thief, would end up disappearing in seconds. All his life, having something meant being prepared to inevitably lose it, but he didn't want to lose this - he didn't want to lose Rapunzel.

He knew who he was when he was all alone, and he didn't want to be that person anymore.

He nearly went to hide out in the library, but he heard voices inside and he was not in the mood to speak to anyone. Especially not to another fancy person that would look at him as if he was nothing but a thief - he knew his presence in the castle wasn't accepted by everyone, but he hated being judged that way. He hated how it reminded him of the way adults would look at him when he was an orphan, hated the pity and the disgust that came with those stares, hated… hated that, at best, he was only Rapunzel's saviour, but not anyone worthy of their time for anything else.

Nowadays, Eugene knew the castle's layout by heart, always quick to remember a place just in case he needed to flee it - and stealing the crown had certainly taken a lot of preparations on its own, so really, it had no mysteries left for him. Especially one perfect, always empty and quiet spot: the roof. It didn't take long for him to go sit on his recently self-designated hideout, all of Corona seemingly under his feet. The fresh air and the silence were a welcome distraction from his thoughts, and a welcome distraction for his over dramatic reaction too - he had spent the last decades avoiding to wallow into his 'sad orphan backstory', and he had no reason to stop now.

Well. Rapunzel would want him to be honest with her about what he was feeling. But this was stupid, and she was busy with all the Princess' activities her dad had been pilling up on her recently, because of her upcoming coronation. There was no need to bother her with it, and she would totally understand that he didn't tell her - right?

Right. He could totally get over it by himself.

Keep going like this and you'll end up all alone, Fitzherbert.

"Thank you Cassandra," Eugene grumbled, kicking his feet in the empty space beneath them, "couldn't you have just insulted my nose or something?"

He would have gasped and defended himself, but at least it wouldn't have put his insecurities at the forefront of his mind. He was doing a good job of ignoring them before, thank you very much. Sighing, Eugene realised he couldn't even manage his fake-anger at her, because he was… tired. Tired of his bad day, already, even if it was barely one, tired of being scared, and tired of dwelling on something that he considered to be ridiculous. He wished he could convince himself that this new life was permanent, that Rapunzel would always love him, but it was hard. Dangling his legs, he decided to count all the houses he could see in front of him, until he was bored enough to go back inside.

He was halfway through a second round in Italian, to spice things up, when a noise on his right startled him.

"Hey," Rapunzel said, her brown hair glowing in the setting sun. He hadn't expected her to find him here, but some part of him wasn't surprised that she did anyway - because of course she would. Her hands were behind her back, and she quickly skipped over to him, always graceful.

"Sunshine," he smiled because he couldn't not, no matter his mood. "What are you doing here?"

"Well, the man I love disappeared on me, after spending lunch looking absolutely miserable," she answered gently as she sat next to him, handing him a cupcake that she had been hiding. "Of course I wanted to find you."

Eugene took the cupcake in both hands, and hoped that the blush he could feel creeping on his cheeks wasn't too noticeable, but something told him he wasn't so lucky.

"A cupcake?" he laughed.

"Hey, I'm trying to cheer you up! What better way than a cupcake?" Rapunzel said teasingly - but she also put her hand on his knee, and looked at him like he was the most precious thing in the world.

How he had ever managed the reputation of a tough guy was beyond him, Rapunzel only needed a few words to undo him completely.

"So," she said, once it was obvious that he wasn’t about to say anything else, "do you… Do you want to talk to me?"

He didn't, really. But he took her hand in his and squeezed it, hoping that she would be patient while he gathered himself. Eugene knew how comforting people was sometimes stressful on Rapunzel. At the very beginning of their relationship, he had quickly understood that her only experience with it was trying to please Gothel after an argument, which involved a lot of gifts and apologies. They had discussed it together, trying to separate what was unhealthy from what Rapunzel actually enjoyed doing - for example, gifts were one thing that she didn't want to give up on, but she was glad that it wasn't mandatory to the process. She was still anxious, though, that what she was doing was wrong, or at least not enough, and while she wouldn't ask for him to comfort her when she was trying to comfort him, he still tried to be mindful of her fears.

"I…" he tried, before cutting himself off. How could he begin to explain all the contradictory thoughts in his mind? Start from the essential. "I love you."

"I love you too, Eugene," Rapunzel answered easily, her skin warm against his.

She was close enough that he could count every freckle on her skin, even the most hidden one, sitting right under her eye, beneath her lashes. Faced with the prettiest view of Corona one could find, Eugene only had eyes for her. He loved her. And he was terrified, at the same time.

You'll end up all alone, Fitzherbert.

"Sometimes I'm scared that I'm gonna lose everything," Eugene blurted out, before cringing. "I mean, I know that you love me, of course I do but- I-"

"It feels too good to be true, somedays," Rapunzel finished softly. She lowered her eyes, and put her head on his shoulder.

"Yeah," he breathed, putting his arm around her shoulders. "A castle I could understand, but getting to be loved by the most wonderful woman in all the seven Kingdoms?"

"And getting to be loved by the most incredible man in all the seven Kingdoms?" Rapunzel echoed with a chuckle. "Impossible."

"Ludicrous."

"Oh good word."

There was a beat, and then they were both laughing, and holding onto each other.

"I love you," Rapunzel whispered again after a while, "and I know that being scared doesn't always make sense, but I promise that I'll never leave you."

Eugene's throat felt too tight after this declaration. It… It meant a lot more than he thought it would, because as much as he loathed admitting it, he was terrified of losing everything. As a kid, ending up with nothing had seemed inevitable; but he didn't want that, he didn't want to accept this future, he- he wanted to be happy. And he couldn't believe he got that chance with Rapunzel.

"I promise I won't leave you either," he answered, because he wasn't sure how to even voice the gratitude gripping him. "You're the best thing that has ever happened to me."

"Same goes for you." Rapunzel shifted, so she could take his hands in hers, and look straight at him again. "You don't have to hide from me when you're upset, I… I always want to be there for you. And as you can see," she smirked, gesturing to their predicament, "I'm not afraid to follow you in the weirdest places if I need to!"

Eugene laughed. "How did you even find me here?"

"I've got my secrets," she said playfully, "and they may involve remembering that one conversation where you talked about how we should hang out on the roof so my maids couldn't find me." Her brilliant smile made him fall in love all over again.

It also made him remember the cupcake that he had put aside. The frosting had melted a little, and he didn't look as good as earlier, but the sentiment it carried was still the same. Most of the time, he was the one bringing Rapunzel's cupcakes, but they meant as much to him as they did to her. It was one of the first things he bought after being a thief most of his life - one of the first things he bought for her. This cupcake was proof that he wasn’t the same man, that he was neither sad orphan Eugene Fitzherbert nor careless thief Flynn Rider.

He was just Eugene, and he had found a family now - he had found Rapunzel. And having bad days wasn’t so bad, when they ended with sharing a cupcake with his new dream, alone on one of the roofs overlooking the entire Kingdom of Corona, his new home.

[welllpthisishappening]

Feeling As Good As Love

Emma is excited about this weekend.

It's always good — this thing they do, with the house and the ocean and the friendship that seems to stand the test of time. But now, there's an added bonus. Because this year she and Killian aren't just coming to the house on the beach with that friendship moniker hanging over them. They're coming as a couple.

A real couple. That kisses. Regularly. And Emma's excited about that too.

She just didn't expect her friends not to believe her.

----

Rating: Teen, with kissing and some friendship-type swearing Word Count: 5.8 K AN: Listen, this is absolutely the fault of @shireness-says​​ who I realize I keep blaming for things, but she keeps sending me prompts and like...it’s her fault. So basically the prompt was “Okay but like what about a reverse fake dating trope? Like, two people who are together and go home to their families at Christmas but can’t convince anyone that they’re really a couple & everyone thinks it’s a joke.” It’s not Christmas, because it is May right now, but no one believes Emma and Killian want to kiss each other right on the mouth. At all times. I’m me, so naturally they set out to prove otherwise. 

And I think this puts Panic! At the Disco in the lead for lyrics as titles. 

Also on Ao3 if that’s how you roll

----

“You know, you don’t actually have to do this.”

Emma doesn’t let go of the plate in her hand, but her eyebrows furrow slightly and Mary Margaret actually has the gall to blush. There are soap suds on her elbow. “Wash the dishes?” Emma quips. “Nuh uh, I’m totally doing this, then I won’t have to do it the rest of the weekend.”

It’s a thing, this annual thing they do — renting a house out East, after Memorial Day, but a few weeks before the tourists descend on the Hamptons and the beaches and the vineyards on the North Fork. And it’s fun, it’s always been fun, college friends and an almost ridiculous amount of alcohol, although none of it ever comes from those vineyards on the North Fork because they’re not actually made of money. 

It’s also the first time Emma has brought someone with her. 

Kind of. 

Killian always comes with them, has been part of the group for as long as she can remember, because he’s been friends with David for as long as she can remember, but this not-so-annual thing the two of them are doing, is pretty new and even more exciting and she might actually be in—

They’ll get there, she’s sure. Presumably after she finishes washing the dishes. 

And once Mary Margaret stops staring at her like that.

“Ok,” Emma sighs, shaking her hair off her shoulder for fear of her own issues with soap suds. “What’s your damage?” “Are you quoting things at me?” “Yes, because I don’t understand what’s happening and when I am confused I fall back on tried and true movie quotes. So, c’mon Winona Ryder, what’s your damage?” “Her name wasn’t actually Winona Ryder in the movie,” Mary Margaret points out. 

Emma rolls her eyes. With her whole head. “I know you’re not drunk yet,” she says, “because Scarlet and Phillip aren’t back from the liquor store yet—” “—Them having to go to the liquor store at all seems to suggest that we’ve already blasted through our liquor supply. Which, you know, that’s kind of troubling. For us, as people.” “Did you say blasted?” Emma asks, and whatever sound she makes is less a laugh and more like general misunderstanding. Maybe Mary Margaret has been body-snatched. “Like that’s a genuine word you used in this real-life conversation. That the two of us are having.” “Yeah, speaking of two of us…” “Were we?” Mary Margaret grabs a glass. With maybe a bit more force than absolutely necessary, all but yanking the towel off her shoulder, and Emma’s not moving so it’s almost impressive when it feels like her mind trips over itself a bit. While trying to figure out what the hell is going on. 

There are footsteps coming towards them. 

“Ah,” Ruby says, leaning against the kitchen door frame. “Are we doing this then?”

Emma’s jaw cracks when it drops open. 

Mary Margaret grits her teeth. 

She’s totally going to break that glass. 

And that will inevitably piss off Regina. She’s the one who booked this house. AirBnB, whatever. All Emma knows is that she made sure both her and Killian’s payments were Venmo’ed to Regina almost on time and that her nearly-serious boyfriend who she might genuinely be in—whatever with has a habit of over packing socks. 

Killian brought no less than twenty-four pairs of socks with him. For one weekend. Four days, three nights. With her. In one room. 

It’s the first time they’ve ever been away together. And now this is happening. Whatever this is.

“That’s not an answer,” Ruby continues, five steps  and one jump until she’s perched on the edge of what may actually be a marble counter. “He’s playing some stupid video game with David, anyway, so it’s not like we’re going to be interrupted.” “What video game?” Mary Margaret asks. Neither she nor Ruby flinch when Emma throws her hands in the air. 

Soap suds land on several different cabinet doors. 

There are an obscene number of cabinets in his house. 

“They’re really serious about Mario Party,” Emma says, like it’s obvious. It kind of is. She knows for a fact that David had texted Killian about bringing his DS with him that weekend, mostly because she was lying next to him when he got the text. “And seriously—what is going on with you guys? Was this conversation preordained?” Ruby clicks her teeth. “More like a discussion was had in passing, but—” She cuts herself off when Mary Margaret’s cheeks flames. “Look at you,” Ruby accuses, “you’re not helping at all. Emma is going to think we were gossiping.” “Weren’t we?” Mary Margaret counters. 

“I mean—well, gossip is such a dirty word and this...Em, you don’t have to fake on our behalf.”

Emma blinks. Once. Then does it again. She flutters her fingers, which only leaves a bit of moisture clinging to her pants, and that’s a little annoying. Not as annoying as the prospect of her two best friends gossiping about something she still doesn’t understand, but that’s neither here nor there. 

“Say words,” she demands. “In something vaguely resembling a sentence.”

Ruby squeezes one eye shut. “It’s just—ok, we know that there are couples up here and Regina and Locksley are in the middle of full-on wedding plans, which is—you know, it’s annoying and opulent. Is that a good word?” Emma lifts her eyebrows. 

Mary Margaret’s cheeks look like they’re half a second from combusting, they’re that red. 

And Ruby isn’t done. 

“Plus, y’know me and Dor are obviously pretty fucking cute and M’s and David stare longingly at each other every moment of every day.” “That’s not true,” Mary Margaret objects, but both Ruby and Emma make near-identical sounds of disagreement and she suddenly seems very preoccupied with her feet. 

“All we’re saying,” Ruby adds, “is that we get it if you felt like you had to show up with—you know, someone special. But...this is—” “—Silly,” Mary Margaret finishes. 

Emma can’t move her eyebrows any more. If she does her actual eyes are liable to fall out, and then Regina won’t get her deposit back and that will only end badly. 

Eyeballs on the kitchen floor presumably aren’t covered in incidentals. 

“What” Emma breathes, “are you talking about?”

Ruby scrunches her nose that time. “It’s just—you and Jones? Really? Like, c’mon, if you were going to pick someone to play boyfriend, there had to be someone better.” Emma is going to have to write Regina a check for damages done to this house. Whatever rushes down her spine is a mix of sudden and rather jarring anger and complete disbelief at what she’s just heard, the words bouncing around her brain like they’ll be able to find a more legitimate order that way. 

Head on a swivel, Emma gapes at the two other people in the kitchen, dimly aware of what sounds like an exceptionally competitive round of Mario Party. 

“You can’t be serious,” Emma says, voice low and, she hopes, as threatening as possible. 

Ruby shrugs. She’s running the gamut of bodily-movement reactions, it seems. “You guys have known each other forever and now you’re going to date? You hated each other when you first met. When’s the last time you and Jones spent time together alone?” “When I spend the night at his apartment. Like last night.”

“Nah, c’mon, who do you think we are, Em? Idiots?” “Apparently,” she shouts, and there goes any sense of threat. Now she just sounds a little unhinged, the word practically snapping out of her and Mary Margaret visibly recoils. Emma pinches the bridge of her nose. “So, wait, wait, wait, let me get this straight. The two of you,” she waves an aggressive hand between them, “legitimately believe that Killian and I are faking our relationship because I feel bad that Robin and Regina are disgustingly in love?”

Mary Margaret lets out a breath, even as her eyes flit towards Ruby. “Not just them,” she reasons. “Everyone’s always kind of paired off here and you’re…” “Oh my God.” “We’re not trying to be insulting.” “And yet,” Emma grumbles, tugging her hands down either one of her cheeks and no doubt leaving angry red streaks in her wake. That’s good. She’s angry. And confused. And angry. And she’d kind of like to make out with her boyfriend. 

This was supposed to be the weekend she got to make out with her boyfriend. And tell her friends that she and Killian had been dating for months. 

There’d been a plan. 

They'd talked about it. 

Nowhere in that plan did either one of them expect their friends to think they were lying. 

That’s a confusing sentence. Emma is very confused. 

Maybe she’d been onto something with the body-snatching idea before. 

“This is insane,” she mutters, mostly to herself and at some point she’s started pacing. “This is—you know Killian and I have been dating for like..a really long time. It’s not like we’ve tried to hide it. You guys are just unobservant.” Ruby doesn’t look convinced. “Name one date you have been on.” “Excuse me?” “One date. Name one date that you have been on with Killian.” “I don’t have to prove myself to you! Or my relationship.” “And yet,” Ruby echoes, expression turning particularly pleased. Emma resists the very real urge to knock her off the counter. 

Emma screws her mouth shut, mind racing to find something really good, but she hadn’t been entirely prepared for show-and-tell and the noises in the living room are actually starting to get very loud. 

Ruby makes a pitying noise in the back of her throat. 

“No, no, no,” Emma stammers, gaping at her and a still-flushed Mary Margaret. “I just—ok, ok, I had that police officer’s dinner. Two weekends ago. Fancy dress and ties were required and all that? Killian came with me.” “As a date?” Mary Margaret asks. “What else would he come as?” “Your friend,” she suggests. “Like he’s done for the last three years.” “Yeah, but there was no ripping off of each other’s clothes those other years! It was—passionate! Heated, even. No, God—Ruby stop laughing, this isn’t funny.”

Ruby holds up a hand in what Emma can only assume is surrender, but then she notices just how much her shoulders are shaking and she’s definitely trying not to laugh so, like, game on or whatever. “No, no, definitely not funny,” Ruby agrees. The words wobble out of her. “But like—heated, honestly. You and Jones?” “We can be heated! We can be hot! For each other, specifically.” “Em, this is almost getting embarrassing.”

“I will kick you,” Emma warns. “Like, really hard.” Mary Margaret rests a hand on Emma’s shoulder before she can take another step forward, an expression that’s in the realm of motherly and comforting and it might be the worst thing in the world. At least on Long Island. Possibly the Tri-State area. 

“This is not embarrassing,” Mary Margaret promises. “That’s not a word we agreed on.” Emma growls. “So it was preordained?” “We just want to make sure you’re happy. And that you and Killian don’t feel like you need to—” Another shrug. One of them is going to dislocate a shoulder sooner or later. “Put on airs for us. It’s just us. No judging.” “Say that again,” Emma challenges.

Mary Margaret exhales. “We’re not judging. We only have your best interests at heart, both of you. And it’s not as if you two have ever really showed you were interested.” Of all the things that could possibly be the last straw in this conversation, Emma is almost pleasantly surprised to realize it’s that particular sentence. 

She rolls Mary Margaret’s hand off her. 

“We are constantly touching each other,” she hisses, a little concerned by the red that’s started to cloud the edge of her vision. “He is always putting his arm around me. I sat on his leg when we were drinking before!” “But that’s just normal,” Ruby argues, and Emma genuinely has no idea what she does at that. It hurts, at least, the sound that races out of her and the burst of heat in her chest, which can’t be healthy and presumably is what, finally, draws Killian to the kitchen. 

His eyes sweep the scene as soon as he steps on the linoleum floor, one side of his mouth ticking up when he meets Emma’s gaze. 

“You ok, love?” “No,” she sneers. “Can you tell these idiots that we’re into each other?” “Wait, what?” Emma waves both her hands again, snarling at her friends. Ruby barely blinks. “We were only telling Emma that we, uh—” “—They don’t think we’re dating,” Emma finishes. Killian freezes. From the top of his head to his obviously sock-covered feet. 

He stops and stares and stares some more and then—

He laughs. Loudly. Uproariously. Head thrown back and shoulders heaving, desperately trying to catch his breath while the laughter bounces off the kitchen walls and settles into Emma’s soul, which is admittedly a little melodramatic, but this has been the strangest fifteen minutes of her life and she still really wants to kiss her boyfriend. 

It’s nice to know she still has her priorities straight, at least. 

“What is happening right now?” Mary Margaret murmurs, as Killian wipes away the tears that have fallen on his cheeks. 

“Sucks not to know, doesn’t it?” Emma snaps. “Wait, wait,” Ruby says quickly, “is this laughter at our question or at the prospect of dating Emma, because if it's the second one, that kind of seems like a dick move, Jones.” Killian scoffs, and it only takes three more steps for him to be in Emma’s space with his arm around her shoulder and his lips ghosting over the top of her hair. She widens her eyes at Ruby. “It is not laughter at the prospect of dating my girlfriend, no,” Killian drawls. “Are you double checking on us, Lucas?” “You guys can’t be dating.” “Says who?” “Us,” Ruby cries, nearly falling off the counter when her limbs flail several different directions. “That’s—M’s you’ve got to back me up on this! It’s weird.” “Weird,” Killian echoes. “That I’m dating the person I like?” “When did you start liking Emma?” “I don’t think I have to tell you that.” Ruby lets out a triumphant sound, like she’s won something and Emma can’t imagine what the prize is in this situation, but it might be the genuinely ridiculous amount of alcohol Will and Phillip have seemingly just gotten back with. 

“Where is everyone?” Will yells, what looks like an actual crate propped up on his hip. He narrows his eyes when he takes in the kitchen and the half-finished dishes, gaze darting Ruby’s direction. 

She curses. Loudly. 

“Not exactly subtle, is he?” Killian mutters, mostly to Emma. She turns into his side, curling both arms around his middle, so he’ll kiss the top of her hair again, but maybe to prove a point and Mary Margaret may never stop looking at her feet. 

“You guys going to be weird about this?” Will asks. “Now that we know you’re faking?” “No one is faking anything,” Emma objects. “Sure you’re not. Did you come up with a relationship backstory on your way up her? That’s kind of rom-com, don’t you think, Em?” “We didn’t have to come up with anything! We are living the rom-com.” “You and Jones?” “Me and Killian.” “You know you guys only have one bed in your room,” Ruby chips in, apparently missing some form of self-preservation. “Is that going to be a problem?” Killian shakes his head. “We’re definitely going to use that one bed. Thoroughly.” “My brother is here,” Emma mumbles. He smirks at her. “But,” she adds, “we’re definitely going to use that bed. With the condoms that we brought.” Mary Margaret makes a strangled noise, Will chuckling while Ruby continues to curse and David demands to know why isn’t anyone giving me something to drink so I can fuck up Wario right now?  

“He brings up a very good point, Swan,” Killian grins, and Mary Margaret sounds like she’s choking now. Serves her right. 

Emma hums. “Is that even how the game works?” “Only one way to find out, right?” “Something like that, for sure.” He flashes another smile, eyes bright enough that for half a second Emma forgets everything that’s happened in that kitchen and she still has dishes to watch, pressing up on her toes as soon as Killian ducks his head. 

Their friends boo. 

She flips them all off. 

And it’s honestly not bad for the rest of the night — there are more discussions of how to properly play Mario Party and an almost alarming amount of alcohol, most of it horribly mixed by Aurora and Ruby, but no one mentions fake dating again, and Emma’s grateful for that. Until they all traipse upstairs to go to bed and there’s really only one bed and both Regina and Mary Margaret stare just a little too long before Emma closes the door behind her. 

It takes her about fourteen seconds to get mad again. “Go ahead,” Killian chuckles, dropping onto the edge of that one bed so he can tug off his socks. She seriously cannot cope with his socks. 

“I’m sorry, what?” “I know you’ve been waiting to curse them up one side and down the other, so let’s have your worst.” “It’s stupid that you know that.” 

He nods, lips pursed as he crooks a finger at her. Emma huffs, but moves into the space between his legs almost immediately, Killian’s hands on her hips and hers on his shoulders and she takes far too much joy in how quickly his eyelashes start to flutter. His head falls to her stomach. Top-tier, peak relationship status. 

“I know everything,” Killian mumbles, mostly into her shirt. “And I know that it’s ridiculous they think we aren’t in—” She doesn’t dare breathe when he cuts himself off, both of them dancing around something big and important and it’s almost an appropriate amount of time, but Emma is Emma and she doesn’t want to fuck this up and maybe that was why she’d been so nervous to admit that Killian Jones is ridiculously good looking. 

Like almost painfully good looking. 

She cards her fingers through his hair. 

“I have an idea,” he says. 

“Yeah?” “I think we should go all in. All those romantic comedy tropes Scarlet was talking about. Lean in to every single one of them.” “How many tropes could there possibly be?” Killian makes a noncommittal noise, glancing up which is really unfair because his eyelashes are almost offensively long. “We’ll make a list.” “Just like that?” “Just like that,” he repeats. “Why? You have other things to do tonight?” “Oh, you’re a menace.” He nips at her hip, Emma jumping and possibly giggling. Killian’s eyes are definitely getting bluer. Maybe it’s the lighting in that room. Their room. Together. 

She can’t believe he brought so many socks. 

“That will be thing number one, I think,” Killian said. “Blatant and obvious flirting.” “You don’t think we flirt enough?” “Not constantly because we’re not animals, but—you know, could probably do with a bit more. Tell you that I think you’re stunning? Regularly?” Emma gags. Killian keeps going. “Bewitching? That I’m fairly certain your hair has magical properties? Regarding its ability to reflect light?” “Oh, yeah, use that one,” she laughs, and it’s not very hard to get him to lay next to her on the bed. Which may actually be made of feathers, if its overall level of comfort is any indication. “What else, then?” “Endearments, naturally.” “Naturally.” “And, uh—” He clicks his tongue, eyebrows shifting in a way that undoubtedly defies the laws of gravity. “PDA.”

“Say PDA again,” Emma challenges. Killian blushes better than Mary Margaret, she thinks. Presumably because she wants to kiss Killian more than she wants to kiss Mary Margaret. 

There’s been a disappointing lack of kissing so far. 

“Public displays of affection,” Killian says, pausing between every word until Emma’s whole body shakes with the force of her laughter. “I’m going to constantly touch you.” “Could be worse.” “Oh yeah?” “I mean—” Emma drags her fingers up his side, shifting his shirt until she reaches skin and the plane of his stomach and— “Shit, stop that,” Killian grumbles. “It tickles.” Emma’s eyes widen. In perfect tandem with what feels like a rather large expansion of her heart, another burst of heat that isn’t quite as jarring as it was in the kitchen. And Killian shifts half an inch backwards. “Don’t,” he warns, but Emma swipes her tongue across her teeth. “Swan, c’mon, that’s—” Pouncing is a very ugly word, but Emma is way too busy discovering other areas of her boyfriend's body and Killian stops talking rather quickly. As soon as her tongue is in his mouth. 

And they do make a list. An actual physical list, with bullet points and a plan, that Killian keeps in his pocket because Emma doesn’t have pockets in her dresses and it’s easier for his hand to squeeze her knee if she wears dresses. 

That’s bullet point number six. 

There are seventeen. 

It becomes something of a game for them — Killian making sure to call Emma love at the end of what seems like every sentence, while she alternates between babe and sweetheart, but that second one kind of sets her teeth on edge and, one time, on Saturday afternoon while they’re picking badminton teams because that’s something they do on this weekend, he calls her—

“C’mon, darling,” Killian says, slinging an arm around Emma’s shoulders. “We’re going to absolutely destroy Nolan and Nolan.”

Every one of their friends groan. 

Emma very nearly passes out. 

The word ricochets off her soul, or something less ridiculous. Even after Killian and David finish debating the proper terminology for the shuttle-thing. She’s never been a darling before. Darling is for committed relationships and longevity and happily ever after and her racquet nearly flies out of her hand when she tries to return Mary Margaret’s serve. 

“You ok, Swan?” Killian asks, and good that’s good. A much-needed return to normal. 

Emma nods. She can’t seem to do much else. 

Somehow they win the match. David decrees it’s called a match. 

And Killian seems to take the public displays of affection fairly seriously — pulling Emma onto his legs when they sit around the fire on Saturday night, nosing at the back of her neck or that one spot just above her shoulder blade that makes her shiver. She almost constantly has her fingers in his hair, tracing idle patterns with her nails. There are absent-minded kisses and kisses that make her toes curl, standing on sand or in the hallway or...well, anywhere really.

It’s something almost close to wonderful, which isn’t really a change of pace for Emma and Killian as a couple, but this level of couple’dom is—

“You’re laughing,” he accuses, but the words get lost between their mouths and there's not much space between their mouths. 

Emma shakes her head. “I’m having fun.” “That was the point of this weekend. It always is.”

“Yeah, but I mean—” She grits her teeth, neves creeping up her spine and taking root in the back of her skull, and she hates that it happens. Emma is the worst kind of pessimist. Or, rather the best kind, depending on how you look at it. 

“I like you too,” Killian says.

“Presumptuous.” “Tell me that’s now how the sentence was going to end, then.” “Well, ok yeah, but—this is just...being full-on relationship, it’s been good, right?” “Are you double checking?” “A little,” Emma admits. “I—this was the plan, and I know it was the plan. That we were going to stop trying to hide and—”

“—I really don’t think we were ever good at hiding it.” “Tell that to the rest of our friends. Mary Margaret and Ruby staged an intervention. It’s...I guess what I’m trying to say is that I’m glad you were willing to prove how stupid into me you are.”

Killian barks out a laugh, tongue finding the corner of his mouth. “Yeah, that’s totally what I am.” “I knew it.”

Those same friends, however, don’t seem to get the memo. 

Maybe they need new friends. 

“I don’t know,” Will says, halfway through a Sunday afternoon BBQ that could feed a small army. “I’m still calling shenanigans.” “Shenanigans,” Emma echoes. 

“You heard me the first time. It seems like you’re trying too hard.” “To be in a relationship?” “Yuh huh,” Will nods, flipping more than one burgers at the same time. “You see that? That was impressive as fuck.” “You’re a poet,” Killian mutters. He must have some kind of Emma-focused sixth sense too, because she feels an arm curl around her middle before she can get into any sort of pacing groove, grunting when he pulls her back against his chest. 

And kisses behind her ear. 

Regina quirks an eyebrow. “I don’t know, actually. There has been a pretty good amount of eye making, even before we got here.”

“I don’t make eyes,” Emma argues. “No, but he does.” Killian’s cheek brushes the side of Emma’s head when he nods. “That’s true, I’ve been making eyes for quite some time.”

“See,” Regina says, “This is—if this is fake, it’s a serious commitment to the cause.” “The cause of kissing my boyfriend?” Emma challenges.

“Yeah, that one. Ok, pop quiz. Killian, when was your first kiss with Emma?” He doesn’t tense. He doesn’t flinch. His hand might tighten a little, but Emma chooses to believe that’s actually a positive and she’s very glad for it. If only because that’s the main reason she stays upright. 

“Junior year of college,” Killian replies.

Will drops the tongs. It’s patently absurd. 

“Hold on, when?” David demands. He’s already half standing when Mary Margaret levels him with a look, flopping back into the plastic chair with enough force it nearly breaks. “Junior year of college. I thought you started dating a few months ago.” “Yeah, we did.” “And?”

“And,” Killian repeats. “We’d gone out, you and Mary Margaret left early. So I walked Emma back to her apartment, it was raining. We hit all of those rom-com tropes. She even had my jacket on.” Emma can’t catch her breath. Which is really ridiculous since she’s not moving, but she was always fairly positive she was the only one counting this as their first kiss and—

“You were drunk,” she cries. “You can’t possibly remember this!” Mary Margaret audibly gasps. That’s more ridiculous than Emma’s breathing issues. 

She twists against Killian’s chest, meeting his steady gaze with something that can only be described as ever-increasing and seemingly inevitable insanity. He smirks. 

The bastard. 

“Trust me,” he says, “I’ve spent way longer than I’d be willing to admit remembering just that. You took your shoes off as soon as we got into the lobby.” “Because they hurt my feet.” “Mmhm.” “What happened after that?” Aurora asks sharply, elbows on her knees and chin on her hands and no one has noticed that some of the hot dogs are starting to burn. 

“She’s a very good kisser,” Killian replies. Easy as that. Emma’s back to not breathing. “Told me it was nice that I walked her home, I said I probably deserved some kind of reward, she glared at me, I waited very patiently and she—” Emma remembers the rest. She doesn't need to hear it. She reenacts it, instead. Her hands fly to his shirt, fingers curling into fabric that’s different than it was when they were twenty and buzzed on alcohol that was only marginally worse than what they’ve spent all weekend drinking and Killian is absolutely smiling when she kisses him.

The bastard. 

Part two. 

And she resolutely refuses to acknowledge any sounds from the peanut gallery, pushing up on bare feet so it’s easier to sling an arm over his shoulder and push her fingers into his hair. He tilts his head, lets his tongue sweep along her lips and she might sigh, but he might also groan and he definitely closes his eyes. 

Emma’s always liked that about him. Killian closes his eyes when he kisses her — like he’s uninterested in anything else, like anything else means less than nothing when he can nose at Emma’s cheek or drop his mouth along the curve of her jaw. It also gives her half a second to stare at the overall length of his eyelashes, so it’s kind of a win-win for her. 

He’s just as out of breath as she is when they pull apart, color in his cheeks and Emma’s heart threatens to burst out of her ribcage. 

That’s probably not covered under incidentals either. 

She’s got to stop thinking so violently. Especially about her own body. 

Will whistles. 

“You guys suck,” Emma announces, and that’s not the first thing she planned on saying, but nothing has really gone according to plan that weekend and she has thoughts on that. 

Patent pending. 

“First of all,” she says, holding up one finger. Will is trying very hard not to laugh. Ruby isn’t trying. “Killian and I have been dating for months. Genuinely months. And, ok, yeah we kissed one time in college, but we didn’t start dating for awhile, and that—” 

Emma is still holding up her finger when she turns again. Killian’s smirk is going to stay permanently etched on his face. “That was kind of stupid, wasn’t it?” “Your words, not mine,” he chuckles. 

“I definitely thought you were good looking in college.” “I desperately wanted to date you in college.” “No shit.” “What is happening right now?” Phillip yells. Emma doesn’t have an answer for that. It’s less disappointing than it was on Friday night. 

“No shit,” Killian repeats. “You were—I don’t know, this force of nature. But you were also David’s sister and—” “—She’s still my sister,” David interrupts. Regina throws something at him. It might honestly be her sandal.

Emma doesn’t bother double checking. She’s rather busy swooning, after all.

Killian kisses the bridge of her nose before he continues. “You never take anyone’s garbage, love. Mine included and that wasn’t really why I was stupid into you, but it was a big part at the start, and then we kept hanging out and you’re—” She doesn’t mind when he shrugs. Probably because of the previously discussed swooning. Honestly, Emma is swooning so bad. “You’re the smartest person I know. And stronger than anyone else, on some existential level.” God, she hopes she doesn’t start to cry. 

That’d be kind of lame. 

And, somehow, there is more. 

“I worry about you, you know. Every time you leave my apartment and go save someone. It’s—I count minutes from when you text me that you’re on the train until I hear the lock click. It’s insane. Might be affecting my blood pressure, really.” “She has a key,” Ruby whispers. Not very well, but something about the thought Emma assumes. “She really has a key?” “I really have a key,” Emma answers. “I wasn’t kidding about spending multiple nights a week at his apartment.” “We could probably do something about that,” Killian adds. Will whistles again. 

Emma’s jaw drops. That’s kind of disappointing, really. She wishes she had some kind of sweeping something to respond with — romance on another level of romantic-type expectations, but she’s still her and she’s still a little pissed they haven’t been dating since their junior year in college. 

“Em, Em,” Ruby presses, “I’m pretty sure he’s asking you to move in with him.” Killian hums. “She’s annoying, but she’s right.” Ruby sticks her tongue out. “But, but,” Emma stammers, “that wasn’t on the list.” “You guys made a list?” Regina balks. “None of you believed us! Which, honestly friendship demerits. Negative friendship standing. We are a good couple, and we like hanging out and we’d been hanging out forever, and this just kind of...happened. It should have happened before, maybe, but our first date was getting ice cream in the Village because none of you will go to the Village with me and I—Killian always will.” “That’s kind of how boyfriend’ing works,” he chuckles. “Is that a word?” “Absolutely not,” Mary Margaret says. “Should we apologize now?” “Probably,” Emma sighs. “Because it’s—none of this has been fake, and we’ve been on relationship overdrive for the last forty-eight hours and I mean...is it so shocking that we could be in a relationship?”

Silence. 

None of them answer, and Killian is still staring at Emma because, she realizes rather belatedly, she hasn’t actually told him she wants to move into his apartment with a bed that’s even more comfortable than the one here or that she also counts down the minutes because she sleeps better with him than she has in years, so naturally she tilts her head up and—

“I love you,” Emma says. Killian’s eyes bug. “And I think I have for a really long time, but we were always friends and—” “—That’s not going to change, love.” “Well, yeah, that’s how good relationships work. Are you just going to gloss over the sentiment?” “Absolutely not,” Killian mumbles, gruffer than usual. And probably because half of the letters get lost in more kissing, a distinct arch to Emma’s back when he actually dips her like some goddamn romantic comedy. 

Mary Margaret might take a picture. 

Emma kind of hopes she does. It’d look good in a frame on the wall. Their wall. 

“I’d like to move into your apartment,” Emma says, and she definitely giggles that time. There’s no way around it, not when Killian’s lips drag along the side of her neck and pepper every inch of her face. 

Several people awwww out loud. 

As they should, really. 

“I love you too,” Killian says. 

“Ok, good.” “Good.”

There’s more kissing after that. As there should be, really. Part two. “So, uh,” Will says, and he’s picked up the tongs at some point, “you guys want celebratory hamburgers or…” “If you don’t put cheese on my burger, I’ll throw your fucking tongues in the ocean,” Emma guarantees. 

Killian crows. Or something. It’s nice, and that’s really all she cares about. “That’s my girlfriend.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Ruby groans. “We’ve heard. Do we toast to the happy couple?” “Absolutely,” David says, reaching into the cooler to grab wine coolers. Like they’re juniors in college. They toast several times. 

And Emma doesn’t sleep much that night, but that’s something she’s willing to concede. Especially when Killian lets her pick the music on the drive back the next morning. 

Like any good relationship. 

[shining-red-diamond]

Keep the Change (Part 1)

Words: 2.1k

Pairing: Jisung x Sunhee (OC) (feat. NCT DREAM and OCs)

Rating: PG-13

Genre: fluff, some angst, comedy

Warnings: violence, fighting, language, brief character death, mentions of vandalism, illness, and robbery

Summary: Being the youngest of twenty-three members, Jisung can get into trouble. He loves his members, but he feels as if everyone else, except for his girlfriend Sunhee, push him around at times. However, the morning after a fight with a member, he realizes that he’s been accidentally left behind. Although he has temporary freedom until his members return, there’s also trouble around the neighborhood caused by two thieves targeting wealthy families’ homes like Sunhee’s. Inspired by the holiday classic Home Alone. (Part of the NEOHOLIDAY event)

-

December 22

“Go finish packing,” Taeyong commanded for the last time.

Jisung obeyed and exited the room, infuriated with being denied just even sitting in the same room with someone. He was all packed for the trip to Paris he, the other NCT members, and some of their wives and girlfriends were going on for the holidays. Jisung just wanted some time to spend with the people he was closest to, but they were busy packing, playing video games, or tending to their small children.

“Dude,” Mark scoffed as he walked by, his large suitcase in his hands, “you’re like eighteen. Tattling is for six year olds. That should have died out for you twelve years ago.”

“Who said I was tattling?” the younger male defended as he followed Mark into his room, “I was expressing how I was being left out.”

“By going to Taeyong to call Johnny a jerk without saying it to his face?”

Jisung just crossed his arms and huffed. “I’m just tired of being treated like a baby around here.”

Mark patted his shoulder. “Then, don’t act like one, and Johnny was messing with you.”

That reply earned him an eye roll. He meant well, but Mark didn’t always say the right thing correctly.

“By the way,” the older boy added, “since Sierra and Alex are coming, you’ve been assigned to bunk with Alex for tonight.”

“I’m aware,” Jisung shrugged.

“You didn’t let me finish. Alex is scared of the dark, and knowing you don’t have a nightlight for him, don’t be surprised if he wakes up screaming and crying.”

Mark walked off without another word to go help another member to pack.

“Pizza’s here!” Jaehyun called from the kitchen.

Immediately, everyone dropped what they were doing and headed towards the kitchen, Jisung trailing behind them as he was still moody from his members rejecting them. He loved them dearly, but being the youngest of twenty-three members proved to be wrong sometimes. The only two members closest to his age were Sungchan and Chenle, but even they weren’t babied as much as he was.

As he crossed the front entryway, he noticed a cop by the door somewhat taking a look around the house and wanting someone to speak to. No one robbed them as far as he knew, but he really couldn’t be bothered.

Most of the members had sat down to eat already, plates full of two or three slices of their favorite kind. Despite having eaten some ramen earlier out of frustration from not being able to see his girlfriend Sunhee, Jisung grabbed a plate and anticipated having just a slice of cheese.

“Daddy, what time are we leaving tomorrow?” Alex asked Johnny.

“Early,” he replied, “we’re leaving at eight in the morning.”

“Sweetheart, the pizza boy needs 133000 won,” Taeyong’s wife Savannah told him as she was feeding Hayden some bite-sized beef slices.

“For pizza?” he replied as he was getting some milk.

“Ten pizzas times 12000 won.”

“You want us to pay for it?” Johnny offered.

“Nope, we’ve got it,” Taeyong shook his head as he searched his wallet.

Jisung opened a few boxes of pizzas, but couldn’t find any cheese. The boxes were either empty or had some sort of topping.

“Did anyone get a plain cheese?” he asked.

Lucas, who was standing by and shoving slices into his mouth, smirked and said, “Well, yeah, we did. But if you want any, someone’s gonna have to barf it all up.”

If anyone knew how to mess around with people, it was Lucas, but it was always out of love. He had a younger brother himself, so he was somewhat of an expert on picking and poking at people. However, he had no knowledge of Jisung’s frustration, yet it was no excuse for the joke he was pulling on the maknae.

“Jisung,” Lucas cried as he made a shocked face, “quick grab a plate!” He slumped over mockingly and made gagging sounds before chuckling at his own joke.

This, mixed with the worry of Alex’s midnight banshee screams and being left out all day, triggered Jisung’s anger and pushed him over the edge. In one swift motion, he balled up his fist and punched the older boy in his face. Hard.

Lucas ended up stumbling backwards, his elbows hit the cups filled with sodas and water; and it all spilled onto the-

“Passports!” Taeil cried as he and Johnny worked quickly to rescue them.

The other members helped with drying them, and Kun and Jeno pulled the fighting boys apart. Lucas’s nose was bleeding, but thankfully it wasn’t broken. Alex was startled by the chaos and started crying, and Sierra took him out the kitchen to calm him down.

Taeyong, in full dad mode now, finally stepped in and raised his voice at Jisung. “What is the matter with you?”

“He started it!” Jisung snapped. “He knows I don’t like the other toppings.”

The maknae knew it wasn’t just Lucas’s antics that made him lash out, but rather everything from that day. However, there would still be consequences to his actions.

“Look what you did, dummy!” Ten snapped as he was trying to dry his soda-stained jeans.

Jisung looked around at his members. It was all silence, except for Alex’s sniffles in the next room. Everyone else just had a look of disappointment on their faces as they stared back at him.

“Jisung, just go to your room,” Taeyong finally sighed.

“Why?”

With a huff, Taeyong pulled the maknae by his elbow. He complied and Taeyong was able to let go of him as he knew that Jisung wasn’t Alex’s age.

“Why do I always get treated like trash?” Jisung demanded.

The police officer and pizza boy were still standing by the door.

“I’m sorry,” the leader chuckled as he pulled out the money for the delivery boy. “With so many people going on a trip, it’s a little crazy. Some of our members have young children, so the chaos escalates a bit. It’s just nuts.”

He paid the pizza boy, and the young man wished them a Merry Christmas before walking out of the door.

“Having a reunion or something?” the officer asked.

“No,” Taeyong replied. “The group has some time off for the holidays, and some of us have families of our own, so we want to spend Christmas and New Year’s with them. Paris is where we’re heading.”

“To Paris, you say?”

“Yeah, We hope to leave tomorrow morning.”

“Excellent.”

Jisung just rolled his eyes. Why was the officer here in the first place?

“If you’ll excuse me, this one’s out of sorts. I’ll be right back.”

Taeyong guided the maknae by the shoulder, and the officer called to them, “Don’t worry about me. I spoke to your wife already. And don’t worry about your home. It’s in good hands.”

NCT’s leader marched the boy up the stairs as the man left the premises. “There are twenty-three members in our group, and you’re the only one who has to make trouble.”

“I’m the only one getting dumped on,” Jisung shot back.

“You’re the only one acting up. Now, get in the room.”

He had led them to the guest room instead of Jisung’s bedroom.

“The guest room?”

“Go.”

“It’s scary in there.”

Taeyong didn’t buy his guilt trip. “Don’t be silly. Alex will be up in a little while.”

“I’m not sharing a room with Alex. You know about him. He screams in the middle of the night.”

The leader sighed and massaged his temples. “Fine. We’ll put Alex somewhere. Just get in there and cool off.”

Jisung had already chilled out by now. He tried to apologize, but Taeyong shook his had and said, “It’s too late. Go.” If a frustrated huff, he stomped into the room.

“I don’t want to see you again until tomorrow morning,” the leader said just before closing the door.

Plopping face down on the bed, he pulled out his phone and texted Sunhee, who wasn’t able to join the group due to her having plans with her family for Christmas. She was quick to respond. Sunhee was one of the sweetest people anyone could ever meet, and Jisung was happy she was his. His career did make it difficult to see her sometimes, but he always tried to make time for her. It was just as frustrating for her as she was about to graduate high school and working hard to stay on top of homework and final projects. Jisung ranted about how he felt he was being pushed around by everyone and just wanted to stop being treated like a baby, as he was eighteen years old. Sunhee was very understanding as she was one of the youngest of her cousins, but she said something similar to Mark in a much more kind manner. He knew they were right, but it somehow stuck with him more than the way the older boy had said it.

After they talked, Jisung put his phone down and got ready for bed.

-

Silence.

The only sound Jisung woke up to was silence. Not a word, a child’s babbling, or even a footstep could be heard from outside the bedroom. Maybe everyone was in the kitchen eating breakfast before heading to the airport. He didn’t bother checking his phone before stepping out into the hallway.

The lights were on, so that was a good sign, at least. Some of the doors were open, some were closed. He peeked into a few of them, but they were empty with piles of mess of some sort in each room.

“Taeyong?” he called out as he made his way to the kitchen. “Taeyong? Mark? Johnny? Lucas? Savannah? Sierra?”

He continued calling out everyone’s names, even the ones who were just starting to talk. After calling for Jeno, he gave up. Was he alone in the house? He sat down at the table and remembered everything he had been jabbed with the night before.

“Tattling is for six year olds. That should have died out for you twelve years ago.”

“…if you want any, someone’s gonna have to barf it all up.”

“There are twenty-three members in our group, and you’re the only one who has to make trouble.”

“Look what you did, dummy!”

Now, Jisung didn’t feel so bad. He realized that the members had left and possibly forgotten him, but now he had some freedom for a while before they could realize anything. Soon, he was dressed, danced whatever choreo around the house to whatever music he desired, and even went through the other members’ personal stuff as well.

Lucas’s, however, was a gold mine. He had some things from his family such as a letter from his parents and a picture of him and his younger brother, and a white Louis Vuitton purse with Sydni’s (his girlfriend) name tagged on it, which must have been a Christmas gift for her. What hit the jackpot was some firecrackers hidden beneath some magazines. Jisung wasn’t sure how Lucas sneaked them in, but there they were.

Once they were placed in his room for the time being, Jisung decided to make a huge ice cream sundae for himself with a side of snacks. He put in an old drama titled Filthy Souled Angels. A mafia piece, he thought. Interesting.

The drama began with a man in a trench coat and fedora entering an office of some sort.

“It’s me, Weasel,” the man told an older gentleman sitting at a desk. “I got the stuff.”

“Leave it on the doorstep,” the older man shouted at him, “and get the hell out of here.”

“All right, Junseo, but what about my money?”

“What money?”

“Acey said you had some for me.”

“Is that a fact? How much do I owe you?”

“Acey said 10%.”

The older man, Junseo, smirked. “Too bad Acey ain’t in charge no more.”

As he watched and snacked in the living room, he called out, “Guys, I’m eating junk and watching a mafia drama. You better come out and stop me.”

“He’ll call when he gets out of prison,” Junseo continued, Weasel looking defeated. “Hey, I’ll tell you what I’m going to give you, Weasel’ –Junseo pulled out a rifle from under his desk and aimed it at Weasel- “I’m going to give you to the count of ten to get your ugly, yellow no-good ass off my property before I pump your guts full of lead.”

“All right, Junseo, I’m sorry,” Weasel backed up. “I’m going.”

“1, 2, 10.” Junseo opened fire at the Weasel, cackling as the man dropped to his knees and died on the spot.

This surprised Jisung, and he was quick to cover his eyes as it scared him so bad. He kept his eyes covered until the last bullet was fired and Junseo said, “Keep the change, you filthy animal.”

Jisung turned it off, and switched it to classic Christmas movies for a while. Once he caught his breath, he cleaned up the kitchen and living room, and then returned to the couch. He fell asleep during How the Grinch Stole Christmas.

[druddigoon]

hi here’s some bederia scraps i’m dying 

ye be spoilers

-

> soulmate au that never came into fruition, where soulmates involuntarily shared each other’s memories through dreams

Bede had his first soul-dream when he was twelve. 

It was uncommon to get them that early, but not unusual; most came and went whenever they pleased, snippets of another’s life that flickered just beyond memory. Until you met your soulmate, you had no control over what got sent and what got received. All you could do was face it. 

He remembered it like this: sun-flecked meadows green at summer’s peak, soft breeze fresh with new discovery. There was someone else with him, whose face was blank but hands were warm and calloused as they enveloped his, who talked in a rumbling baritone so low it was like the earth itself was singing him a lullaby. He picked Bede up and swung him like a merry-go-round, and for once there was no fear, just weightless laughter tethered by clasped hands and belonging. 

When he woke on stiff orphanage mattresses, he woke with an aching deeper than anything he’d known for a while.

-

> self-indulgent gloria sketch about bede getting to know each of her pokemon. never finished

"No, go away," Bede says to the monster hovering near his heels. "Bad, nasty bug. Go away."

Durant gives no indication that it hears him except for the little tilt of its head. It gingerly noses his pant leg, then, with mandibles that can snap his entire calf, nibbles at his ankles. Bede blanches. 

"Gloria, get your metal death machine away from me."

"Hmm?" Gloria's head peeks out from behind a steaming curry pot. "Awww, he likes you! Durant always wants to be everybody's friend. He wouldn't harm anyone outside of battles."

"I've seen him--" Bede bites back a wince as Durant digs its claws into his leg, trying to haul itself up. "--bring back huge sticks, only to snap them clean in half, accidentally, and sit down to whine over them. He's a hazard."

"Face it, you're only bitter because he one-shots your entire team. Relax, I've been training him to better control his strength, so you shouldn't have any unfortunate accidents." She leaves her curry to simmer as she makes her way towards him, disentangling the ant pokemon from his pants to carry like a doll. Durant nibbles at her chin, and Bede has a split-second panic attack at how his partner's face is held between its shearing jaws.

"Gloria, I love you, but..."

"Here." She grasps his hand and guides it to Durant, holding it still as antennae feel around. With a trill, Durant lifts its head to expose its neck. "Scratch him here, on the junction between the head and thorax. It's his favorite spot."

He does.

 The "chin area" is sleek and strangely warm. Durant's abdomen shakes almost like a wagging tail as it leans into his palm. 

Hard to believe something that can so mercilessly tear down battles with iron head and rock slide would be coming back for scritches. Gloria's watching the two of them with a small smile on her face, and suddenly he understands. Like pokemon, like trainer.

-

> from silent storm, sundering -- brief description of bede’s battling style from gloria i liked, before i scrapped the scene and rewrote it in bede’s point of view 

Bede fights as if his pokemon are an extension of his mind and soul. You’ve encountered it before, the unpolished beginnings of his style in the mines and more recently in the Wyndon semifinals, but under Opal’s tutelage it’s been honed into something unspoken, innate in how his hatterene moves before he’s given the gesture, attacks mirroring the rise of his voice or the rhythm of his words in perfect synchrony.

-

> from keep them in your mason jars -- original idea was for bede to accompany gloria to postwick after her mother died from a heart attack. had to change it because the idea proved to be too much of a challenge for a simple, short prompt

“They said she had a heart attack. Young for her age, might’ve been prevented if they rushed her to the hospital in time.” Gloria dips her head, hiding her face out of view. “Except the nearest ER is a couple hours hike from here a-and they d-didn’t find her right away. She was g-g-gone before they got there.” 

He didn’t have anything to say to that, so he ended up sliding her mug full of chamomile across the table, where she cupped it with trembling hands. 

“I t-told her it was okay to rent an ap-apar—room in Wyndon. Had enough m-money now. But she didn’t want to. S-said she like this place b-better.” 

-

> from keep them in your mason jars -- starts right after gloria leaves, went off the deep end lmao rip

“What’s being gym leader like? I’ve never really followed the circuit until my Glory became champion.” 

Didn’t he rehearse something like this for his inauguration? He wracks his brain for the eloquent, well-written speech that moved a town, but the only thing he could remember was it being too cold outside for a ceremony. 

“Oh, it’s. It’s essentially leading a gym; Ballonlea is largely self-sufficient, but since the gym. Is part of a interregional circuit, part of my job there has become—”

“Mum!” 

A patter of footsteps can be heard before Gloria’s head pops out from another room. She’s holding a box, bound meticulously in ribbon and wrapping paper and still shiny despite the overall dustiness of the house. “Why was this in my room?” 

“Oh, I—” She fumbles with the kettle and hisses quietly as the steel burns her hand. 

“Mum!” Before Bede could even react, Gloria has already dropped the box and is crouched beside her mother, cradling her burnt hand. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you, I’m-I’m..”

“Nonsense, you didn’t do anything. I got too jumpy after spending a few months all by myself.” Gloria’s mother smiled, sliding her hands out of Gloria’s grasp and running them under the tap water. “That was a present for your seventeenth birthday I’d saved as compensation, since you were away for your birthday. As a surprise. Didn’t expect you to find it so quickly; silly of me to plan it as a big reveal and set it on your bed. Sorry for ruining the surprise Glory, happy very late birthday.” 

Gloria wordlessly reaches out, and the two meet in an awkward hug. 

The kettle, knocked on its side on the counter, spills boiling water onto the tiled floor below.

Piles of plastic bags bursting with second-hand toys, more than he’s held in his life. A tiny hatenna, who’d opened her eyes and telepathically asked Bede where her trainer was. His parents had swept him up in a hug, told him stay inside go to sleep on time eat all your food in the fridge yes even the gross ones, before they fled the region and left him for law enforcement to find. 

His fists are clenched tight underneath the table, nails digging hard into the meat of his palm. 

This is normal. Expected of a healthy family. He should be happy for Gloria, should be happy he’s part of this, please don’t ruin this please don’t ruin this—

You always ruin everything, don’t you? 

(His parents were fine until he came along.)

“Excuse me,” he says, chokes out with the last breath of air left in his chest, as his chair wails a banshee screech when he stands up. The outside greets him in a shuddering lungful of cool forest air. Rapidash, grazing in the pastures, raises his head as he passes. 

The gate clicks shut behind him with a click.  It’s Gloria who finds him, sitting on moss-worn drystack and watching Rapidash sniff the wooloo. He hears the scuff of her feet on loose gravel—knows it’s her without looking, with a resolve that has him wondering when he’s learned—as the silence echoes like an oncoming storm. 

"I'll book a ticket back to Motostoke today," he says, "Doubt your mum would let me inside her house after what I did."

“At least apologize to her, she deserves that much. She’s worried that she’s made a bad impression on you. After you left, she kept talking about her clumsiness scared the guest away.” 

He scuffs his feet on the stones, avoiding her gaze. She takes his lack of answer as an invitation, hefting herself onto the drystack beside him with the ease of honed muscle memory, balanced, arms outstretched. 

[sourbat]

For the kiss prompts, 20 or 33 with Magnus and Toki? But only if you wanna. :)

Nothing like a daily dose of Magtok :)

An unexpected kiss that shocks the one receiving it. Kissing in a stairwell, giving them an artificial height difference.

Enjoy!

When Toki suggested they visit the largest bookstore in the city, it was done more as an act of kindness towards Magnus, and less because he was genuinely curious to peruse three floors worth of dusty, old books. He barely read as it was, and only brought it up because Magnus let him pick what movie they were going to see when they visited the theater, and was super patient when he took him over to one of the few remaining music stores left in the state. Toki was surprised he even remembered the name, but Magnus shined at the idea, mentioning he could go for a few new reads. 

Toki stood on his toes, peering over a row of dusty novels bearing forgettable names, wondering if he might accidentally stumble upon mouse, a spider’s web or perhaps some long-forgotten token–a keychain, a piece of jewelry or hidden note–left behind by some hypothetical being who also made the mistake of taking their boyfriend to a boring bookstore. He honestly had hoped that a massive bookstore would contain more than just…books. Sure, there was the obligatory magazine and music section tucked deep in the corner of the first floor, and it was one of the more louder sections, too; however, it proved only a brief reprieve from the impending boredom that had now consumed Toki’s soul.

The bookstore, despite its multiple levels, fancy lighting and pillars, recycled books sculpted into long tunnels and fancy designs, decorative art that covered the walls and filled the building with a warm, comforting glow, and the entire third floor dedicated to the arts, was still just a bookstore. Nothing changed the fact that the air tasted dry, that most of the books Toki picked up were boring and contained no captivating pictures, and that he had to maintain an “inside voice” while he waited for Magnus to sort through an ever-changing collection of novels.

Toki left the fantasy cubicle where he had sequestered himself in, turned a corner and, remaining partly hidden, viewed Magnus some several feet away. He sat on the floor, two books resting on top each leg, and silently analyzed each one, trying to determine the lucky cover that he’d take home. Toki had already attempted to use some of his allowance, but was immediately rejected, with Magnus reminding him Toki already spent money on tickets and several records, and didn’t want their manager hounding him for unnecessary spending again. A shame, because Toki just wanted to leave and return to the bustling streets. Hollywood was literally right around the corner, and Toki was spending its eve in a store he wasn’t even allowed to run around in, toss yarn, touch the paintings, or have fun.

Still, whether Toki wanted to admit it or not, there was something nice about seeing Magnus struggle over something as mundane as picking a silly book. Watching Magnus unconsciously nipping at his own lip, bringing a leg up to chest once he picked up a book, or playing with his own hair was a peculiar, but welcoming sight to behold. If only Toki hadn’t already spent nearly… forty-three minutes in this blasted store, he might have considered sneaking a photo of Magnus’ intense resolve as he discarded one book in favor of picking up a new title.

Instead, Toki just about had the right mind to call Abigail and ask if he could afford to buy the whole bookstore; that way, Magnus wouldn’t have to worry about having to decide anything! 

It was a nice little fantasy, but even Toki couldn’t excuse such an extreme purchase, and over something as stupid as literature. Instead, he pulled himself off from the corner, and decided to try yet another secluded section of the expansive store and see if there might be anything to keep him sane for a few minutes longer. 

He ended up in the early sci-fi section, and although Toki had no intent on reading anything, did find some solace in viewing the covers. The pictures of pale, big-headed aliens exiting long, phallic-like spaceships provided some amusement.

Toki was busy staring at a cover of some stereotypical American hero ogling a purple-skinned, but otherwise pretty alien, when a finger prodded his side. Toki squirmed, stumbling back as he recoiled from the surprise attack, and bumped right into Magnus.

An arm grappled around Toki. “What are you looking at?” Magnus asked, giving Toki a firm shake before setting him free. 

Giggling, Toki rubbed his side and answered, “Nothins.” He noticed three books stowed under Magnus’ arm. “Oh, you founds somethins?”  he asked, feigning innocence, and trying desperately to not sound too helpful.

“Yeah, I did,” Magnus replied. The answer alone was a huge relief, but Magnus’ enthusiasm filled the otherwise still and stuffy atmosphere, and for a moment Toki didn’t think the store was too bad. If Magnus could find something worthwhile and smile at him like that, then perhaps the trip wasn’t a bust. “You find anything?” 

Toki pulled a holographic bookmark from his pocket. “Just this books-mark.”

“I’ll take that,” Magnus said, snatching it up and stowing it into one of the book’s pages. “C’mon, let’s go.”

Never had such a plain statement sounded so sweet. “Alrights,” Toki said. He let Magnus take the lead, smiling at the way while Magnus talked about the ingenuity behind one of the author’s work, how literary theorists were still actively writing about the other, and although he hated the third, didn’t mind getting the book because it was second-hand. They descended the stair, and Toki kept nodding his head, not quite understanding what the heck Magnus was talking about, but was still pleased to see how excited Magnus got when talking about the cultural impact a book could have on society. 

“Hey, stop for a second.”

“Hmm?” 

Magnus remained put, three steps in front of Toki. Moreover, he was three steps beneath Toki, and with their current position, Toki hovered over Magnus by a good couple of inches.

Magnus pulled out his phone. “Here, get behind me,” he said, gesturing to Toki to move with the sway of his device. Confused, Toki rubbed the back of his head. The ends of Magnus’ mouth lifted in a sly smirk. “C’mon,” he said, “you’re telling me we’re about to go through an entire store decorated with sorta of crap without you stopping me for one of your selfies?”

The remark warranted a quick snort of the nose, and Toki humbly breaking into an embarrassed, but happily little smile. The bookstore did have a few locations that merited a snapshot, a romantic pose between partners, but Toki had been so bored he hadn’t really noticed until Magnus waved that glowing screen, calling him to position.

Bookstore or not, Toki wasn’t going to pass on the chance of having Magnus be the one to take a picture of them together. Toki stood behind Magnus, hands cupping his pointed shoulder before kneeling just a little so that their heads were aligned. To his continued pleasure, Magnus rubbed his cheek against his, scratching the side of his face with a rough tickle, then raised the phone, adjusting it accordingly so that it captured both their likeness.

“On the count of three,” Magnus slowly announced, and Toki’s already cheeky grin extended up to his ears as he prepared for Magnus’s index finger to snap the photo. “One…two...”  

Toki held his breath, ready for the photo, when he felt that same scruff rub his face again, only this time it changed, going from rough to soft as Magnus turned, planting a sudden kiss on Toki’s unprepared cheek. His eyes widened, detecting that sudden transition, but not making complete sense of it until Magnus lips pushed against his skin, sending a surprise flutter of delight across Toki right as the camera took the photo. 

Magnus removed himself from Toki before he had the chance to react. “Nice,” he announced, grinning smugly at Toki. His finger and thumb rolled over the photo, enlarging it and earning a somewhat cruel chuckle from the man. “How cute,” he said, then offered up the photo to Toki.

Fingers brushing over his cheek, Toki glanced at the picture, at himself and Magnus kissing him.

“Oh,” he said, voice turning a little faint. He took the phone in his hands, bringing it close to get a better look at it. It was slightly off, and when Magnus had turned to kiss him, must’ve shook the phone a little, because the surrounding lights had a mild blur to them. Still, Toki’s fingers tenderly brushed over the screen, thumb grazing over past-Magnus kissing his round cheeks, and past-Toki’s expression capturing that tickle, the simple pleasure of being an object of affection, reaching his heart. “Oh. Wowee.”

“A little gift for you, for being so patient with me,” he heard Magnus say.

Toki snapped up, feeling his heart tremble upon realizing he’d been caught. “Oh,” he said, voice dropping as he nervously shuffled in place. “Uhm…”

Magnus chuckled again, and if Toki didn’t know any better, was sure he saw the start of a blush before Magnus turned his back on him . “Don’t worry, I’ll still buy you the bookmark.”

[chdatz9000]

“Rescue” Drabble

[I hope you enjoy this small drabble. it kinda coincides with today’s KorrAsami week prompt. But, I hope you enjoy it!]

Why is it every time I have these meetings it always turns into complaining about money?? Asami thought, as it approached hour four in the fifth consecutive meeting she had this week on the same topic.

“...the projected costs will exceed our and your own companies estimates! There’s no way that we can agree….”

She swore she could shorten these meetings down to 20 minutes if everyone just wouldn’t complain about every little yuan. 

“....I think we can save 3% of freight costs if we just….”

Asami could pretend as much as she could to pay attention while the other eight companies “discussed” helping rebuild the city. Honestly, she thought,  If they thought one second on the actual people in the city, 3% means nothing to them. These meetings always derailed on saving money rather than different ways to help the thousands of people who lost their homes and jobs. Asami, fortunately for her, sat near the door to the meeting room. She could excuse herself if she really wanted to, but as the person who seemed to be more focused on people than the spending of the project, she opted to stay and wait until the topic of people or Future Industries to actually join the discussion. 

Each representative came with their own assistants to help them manage their respective business during these lengthy times, however there would be times that the assistants would have to interrupt the meeting due to situations that require more attention. Asami was always delighted to hear a knock on the door, just so she could try to figure out a way to get the meeting back on track to it’s true purpose. She failed more times than not as prospects of saving money seemed to be the favored subject. 

Asami’s assistant, however, rarely knocked as she was more than capable to help Asami with her day to day obligations. Asami jokingly cursed her for being too good at her job and just needed to talk about anything else besides projections, costs, freights, additional spendages, and quarter deadlines.Coincidentally, there was a knock at the door and in walked in Asami’s assistant. Asami tried to hide a surprised gasp when she walked through the entryway. 

“Pardon the interruption everyone, Miss. Sato, I have a priority note for you.”

Asami was taken back, “A priority note?”Highly unusual” she said as she took the note. The assistant gave her boss a quick wide-eyed look while she handed the piece of paper to Asami, who just briefly raised a quick eyebrow back to her assistant. Unfolding the letter she began to recognize the handwriting, it was her assistants and...Korra’s! The paper itself was filled with notes that obviously belonged to the assistant and was clearly the first piece of paper Korra saw and wrote on. 

“Meet in bathroom

I have a surprise!

IT’S IMPORTANT!!!”

Asami took a second to secure her composure before folding the paper back up. While the other representatives were focused on their previous discussions, Asami studied the room, trying to find any excuse to leave. Although it probably wouldn’t be too hard to disappear unnoticed, she still had to save face. 

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Asami interrupted the group, only waited briefly for the room to quiet down before continuing. “...respectful representatives, I believe we have diverged too far from our true topic. As we all have our finances in mind, we have to remember that this isn’t squarely for profit alone. This for Republic City and for the entire world, let us not forget that. I suggest a 20 minute recess to refocus our priorities and finalize our proposals”

Most of the room nodded in agreement, while a head or two remained still. With only a small moment passed, Asami stood up, grabbed her note, and walked out the door. She turned to her assistant and returned her scrap piece of paper. 

“She refused to leave.”  The assistant exhaustively informed.

Asami could only chuckle, “I’m sorry!” Is all that she could say with a sincere smile as she walked into her office. She bee lined to the bathroom, opened the door and saw her girlfriend standing there, with one one of the biggest grin on her face. Before she could ask why Korra was there, she stated her purpose just as the door closed.

“I’m here to rescue you!” There was a slight pause but Asami couldn’t help but start smiling wider.

“I need rescuing?” Asamily playfully asked as she stepped closer to her dorky girlfriend.

“Of course!” Korra placed her arms on her waist. “You’ve been having this meeting all week! And I can tell by your face that you’re exhausted and haven’t been taking good care of yourself! Have you even eaten today? She leaned in closer, trying to prove her point that she knew Asami well. She does, of course, and Asami couldn’t argue against her point. Asami could only huffed playfully in response, she couldn’t find any reasons to retort. “That’s what I thought!” Korra then procured a lunch bag that she brought in front of Asami’s face, who started to giggle slightly.

“Thank you, Korra.” Asami gently said into Korra’s ear as she hugged her. 

“You’re welcome.” Korra said softly, speaking in her normal inflections. “I can tell how stressed you are. I knew you could’ve used a laugh.” She said as she nuzzled her face into Asami’s shoulder. Asami returned the affection by kissing her head. 

“I love you, Korra.” She said slowly. There was a small moment before she spoke again, “I am hungry.” she chuckled.

Korra slowly released her, “I love you, too.” She responded as she looked into Asami’s eyes. There was a pause before she leaned up to kiss her. Korra let go of Asami, “You probably don’t have a lot more time left, so I’ll let you eat that in peace. But, I’ll be waiting for you here when you’re done” She placed her finger in front of Asami’s mouth before she could object, “I don’t care how long it’ll take, I’ll be here!” Asami let her, sometimes overzealous, girlfriend do what she wanted, spirits only knew how much she really needed it. “And…” Korra continued, “I’ll make sure to keep the door closed and keep quiet.” 

They both shared a laugh as they both knew previous visits from the Avatar, and having her waiting, has not always led to quiet events. Asami finally grabbed the take out dinner with one hand and grabbed Korra’s hand with the other. They finally walked out of the bathroom, together. She walked them to her desk and she began to eat, as she didn’t have much time left. How much time has it been since they were able to just enjoy each other’s company? Asami was constantly in meetings to help rebuild and redesign the city. Korra, on the other hand, was too busy dealing with power hungry individuals across the world. There were some exceptions where Asami could come along, but restructuring Republic City was taking months just to get started. 

It wasn’t often that Korra acted this silly around Asami, most times it was just so she could get what she wanted. It was still a definite breath of fresh air from the mundane, repetitive meetings Asami was forced to deal with. Asami wondered if Korra had made plans for them this evening or if she was just bored. In truth, it was the mix of the two. Korra had general plans for the night, but she had one goal: make Asami relax. There’d been a lot more of Asami helping others, so Korra wanted to make sure Asami was able to feel the same way she made others felt, tenfold, tonight.

Asami finished up her meal and placed the containers in the trash and faced Korra. They wrapped their arms around each other and touched foreheads. They stood there in that moment with their minds on each other. It felt like it wasn’t as long as they needed before Asami took a deep breath, Korra frowned. They slowly released each other, each still longing for the other’s touch, and Asami just smiled at Korra.

“Knock ‘em dead this time!” Korra said with a smirk and a raised eyebrow.

Asami pressed her lips together and looked up, seemingly planning something, “Give me an hour, tops!”

“You better!”

Asami turned around and walked out the door, closing it behind her. The representatives were all down the hall, a few started to make their way back to the meeting room. Got to keep it punctual, she thought to herself as she made her way to her assistant.

“She gave her word she won’t make a noise.” She informed the assistant while keeping her focus on the group standing down the hall.

“She better. It won’t look good tonight.” The assistant genuinely stated. 

Asami turned her head to face her and had a small smile on her face, “I know. She does have my best interest in mind.” She took a deep breath and began walking to the door.

“Miss Sato.”

“Hm?” Asami paused.

“Go get them.”

Knock them dead, she thought as she walked into the room, now going back into her serious demeanor. I only got an hour.

Korra, now alone once more, sat down on one of Asami’s couches in the office. She exhaled slowly and just stared at the door. She wasn’t sure how successful Asami would be in closing the deal in less than an hour, but she promised her that she would be here when she got out. She heard Asami’s voice through the walls, and it sounded like she started off aggressive. So, Korra thought the only good thing she could do while she waited was to figure out what pose she should be in to make sure Asami could forget about the meeting as quickly as possible and...without making a sound.

[i really enjoyed writing this one!]

[yvaquietdays]

On giving up on all your unrealistic dreams.

There’s a rumour going around that I’m gonna give it all up. 

The rumour is only in my head. But still.

Entirely expectedly at this time of year, I’ve been experiencing some introspective anxiety. Namely, noticing that when I think about my music, my anxiety starts peaking. Ugh, I know. So boring. The streams of panic, sending whirly moments of fear through my gut; I’m not good enough, I haven’t done enough, I don’t want to do enough. If I don’t want to do enough, then I mustn’t want this.  I’m going to escape, move to New Zealand, sell books.  You see where I’m going with this.  The slow, maddening, endless descent into spiralling negative thoughts. Let me just lie down.

Firstly, I have to be very careful that I don’t take my reluctance to do something as a sign from the universe that I’m on the wrong track. The universe, sometimes, doesn’t know shit about it. I put too much stock in the universe and all its power at the dawning of 2019 and look where that got me. Alright, all the way out to LA, but I came back, didn’t I? Quite clearly something (that I’m not going to talk about, because it doesn’t actually matter, honest) didn’t pan out as it was supposed to.

But I set my intentions! I rode the wave of acceptance! I was grateful! 

Come off it. Nah. Sometimes shit doesn’t pan out and you either fall hard or get on with it. In the end, I was glad that thing didn’t pan out, because I felt like I’d been freed. Freed from an industry that felt fake and vacuous, freed on my own trudgey path, to do whatever I want on it. I could kick some stones for a while, make some moves. Or, as it happens, stand completely still. But here’s the rub. I’ve been entertaining thoughts of doing other things. I wrote a book a year ago and sat on it for another year, picking it apart, editing, sending to my beta readers. It reawakened a very simple, undemanding love for reading and writing. It doesn’t always make me feel bad when I do it. It is a pure and unadulterated mode escapism. Excuse me while I jump off the world for a sec. Of course, there are days I have no ideas, I can’t pull together any words, and on those days, I feel like a steaming hot pile of turd. But generally, I lie awake at night imagining scenes, characters. I’ve realised I see the world through a writers eyes, always creating stories for people, craving seeing inside someone else’s life, figure out their quirks. Everyone I meet is a character I analyse and flesh out in my head.  I couldn’t quite believe I’d buried this part of me for so long. I challenged myself to finish a novel in a year, and I did it. I finished the thing, just to prove to myself that I had it in me. I can’t tell you how freeing this is. So I started wondering if music had led me down a certain path, because from a young age, I had also craved attention and being on the stage, to perform. In my head, I imagined myself on red carpets and at award shows, even though I learned in my late teens how childish and silly this was. But in the back of my mind, always, I had pictured my life playing out away from Newcastle, away from London even. I guess I existed in a different world than the one I knew, even the one that looked real. It meant if I didn’t make music, or get played on Radio 1, or play the big festivals with the other big guys, or be the one to watch... I would fail. There was nothing else. It was this, or nothing. 

Obviously that mindset had repercussions in the end. So. I’ve given up on all those unrealistic dreams. 

I have no desire to be part of the music industry. Not now, after everything. It’s like I can see through the veil, and on the other side, all I see is poor mental health. I honestly love my life, my little flat, a hot brew after hot bowl food, wasting my life on Netflix but being held by a person I love. That’s all there is for me. Everything else is a bonus. I’m not giving up. I’m just, sort of, giving in. Letting go of the things that don’t make me happy. That includes those dreams, those expectations. The way I see it is, we live in a world that tells us to want more, get more, be endlessly unsatisfied and in a perpetual state of craving. I have wanted this idea for as long as I remember, but the reality is, the idea doesn’t exist.  It’s kind of like planning for a holiday. You’ve booked the flights, the transfers, you know you can get by with the bikinis you already own, but in the back of your mind you’re thinking, I could do with a very specific vest top or skirt or shorts for this holiday, otherwise I’ll be really annoyed not wearing the right thing when you’re climbing the steps from GoT in Dubrovnik, and you’ll have to look back on those pictures knowing that vest top was cropped when you didn’t want it to be. Or you’ve suddenly got a long list of items you need for this holiday, even though you know deep down, it’s about the memories and the respite of being on the actual bloody holiday, not the new travel wallet you bought from Liberties because Marie Claire told you it was a must-have for the holiday season. We’re always being sold stuff, only valuing ourselves through the lens of how everyone else perceives us, and what’s worse is that social media knows exactly what we’re thinking, what we’re tempted by. Instagram reinforces the need for a new cross-body bag for the holiday because you googled it or searched or it on ASOS. So you think, yeah, you know, I do need all that stuff. I need to fulfill my dream version of the holiday otherwise it won’t count.

That’s life. If you boil it right down to a lovely little jus, and drip it down on your unrealistic expectations, you’ll realise you’ve been spending years berating yourself by wanting more, wanting the goal, even wanting more while you have it, while doing everything to forget to be grateful or appreciative to yourself for the work you’ve put in to achieving it already. You’re missing it all while you set your sights ahead.  Dreams about how your life is going to look are a waste of time. Dreams are full of stuff we don’t need. Spend your days with your head in the clouds and you forget how to walk in the street without being hit by a cyclist.

Look, if I can release music and write a book, while being able to go to the pub for a pint and a game of Monopoly cards, and think about the possibility of having a family one day, then I’m happy. Family, people, connections, meaning, that’s what human beings need. It’s what I need, anyway. 

I don’t want the guilt that comes with never quite achieving that perfect version of my life. My life is perfect. It might not look like how I imagined it when I first got my passport, imagining where I’d be in ten years time, but if I spend one more day looking years ahead to that perfect moment, I’d completely miss it. Miss now. I’d miss the fact that my actual life, today, right now, is better than I could have imagined. 

So fuck that, pet.

I’m still recording, and I’m releasing very, very soon. But I’m just going along with it. I’m nervous about playing live, about the music world opening it’s doors to me again. Not sure if I want to step through. I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it. But what I’ve realised recently is that I can, as a woman, as a person, have it all. I can make my own music, release it, perform it live. I can do session work, I can tour the world with Nitin Sawhney and perform to crowds of thousands, and I can clock out. I can write a book, I can work on a second. I can work in a coffee shop and enjoy it. I can audition for shows. I can stay at home on the PS4 on New Years Eve with my love and have the best time, and not think about how there was no huge monumental moment for me at the end of the decade, only the realisation that I have all I could ever really need. 

There isn’t one line that I have to follow. There isn’t one line you have to follow! Do what makes you happy, and remember what you really need to be so.

Thinking that music was the only thing that I was permitted to do was the worst mistake I’ve ever made. I felt that trying my hand at anything else was pushing my luck. Nobody would take me seriously if I spread myself too thin. Jack of all trades, and that. I didn’t even let myself explore to find out how good I am at any of it. I told myself no. I allowed myself to cradle that silly dream of making it (I honestly don’t know what this means any more), for years, and it held me back. There is no making it. There is only work, and today. 

And, anyway, I really don’t make enough money in one of those fields to warrant me only trudging through one. At this point, I have to think realistically, financially. 

I have to hike through them all.