#if we don’t get season 3 I’ll cry real tears

[thanks--for--listening]

just finished sweet tooth season 2……Aimee Eden you will always be famous 🫡🫡

[formulapookie]

!!!

under the cut on tumblr, here on Ao3 <3 chapter 2

Moonlight kisses ch.1 bezzetti 2.1k words

He wakes up to the most beautiful sight everyday, he’s been doing that for quite a while now.

Curly hair sprawled over the pillow, an arm around his chest, protective, and his head on his chest.

Cele feels like he’s the luckiest person on earth, having Marco by his side, being able to live his love so freely.

Their friends had all cheered when they had come out as a couple one year ago, Pecco just saying he was glad the two of them had finally understood they had been mutually pining for years now.

He smiles thinking about it, and feels a hand stroking his hair slightly, tilting up his head and meeting eyes with his boyfriend.

“Buongiorno amore” he smiles and to Cele everything seems perfect when Bez smiles.

So perfect he never fears something could go wrong.

“Buongiorno” he smiles back, sitting up on the bed to press a soft kiss on his lips, the quiet of Bez’s home interrupted only by Rubik barking in the kitchen for food.

“Ugh gotta feed him, you coming for breakfast?” “Yeah yeah let me just get dressed” “I don’t mind if you want to walk around the house naked eh” “Marco!” “What? You weren’t this shy last night you know? Especially when you-“ “shut up shut up go feed the dog and i’ll be there in a minute”

Bez gets up smiling, putting on a pair of boxers and a shirt scattered on the floor.

Cele does the same, taking a clean pair of underwear and one of Bez’s shirts from the closet.

“What’s for breakfast?” Cele says in a sleepy voice that makes Bez’s heart melt. “I could have you and be satisfied” “Marco, can you not think about sex for one minute or are you 16?” “It’s not my fault amore, you are just too beautiful, especially with my shirt on”

They share a kiss, deep but loving, Bez’s hands on his hips.

“I seriously am hungry Marco, can we eat?” “Yeah yeah I bought brioches yesterday, yes I took the nutella one for you, yes the cream one for me, yes you can have a bite”

Cele thinks Bez is perfect right now. It’s corny, stupidly teenage-love like, but it’s true, when he’s with Bez everything seems so smooth and true, real, it seems right.

And for Bez it’s the same. Or well, it was perfect.

Not that he doesn’t love Cele god no, he would run to the ends of the earth for him, bring him the moon and the stars, write poems and songs for him.

It’s not Cele, it’s him.

Since the beginning of the season, and the horrible outcome of the races after Jerez he’s been spiraling more and more in a situation where he feels helpless and unworthy.

Unworthy of the team, of Vale, the Academy but most of all unworthy of Cele.

The boy looks like a ball of sunshine, always so glad to have him near, and he feels like a black hole swallowing whatever light Cele has in him.

He fears he’s draining his lover, dragging him with him when he’s down.

He’s scared this will affect Cele too, that this -thing- dragging him down will take Cele too.

And he can’t allow that, he can’t have Cele’s mind filled with the same ugliness rotting in his brain, he loves him too much.

So he’s begun to stop talking about his issues to Cele, to everyone to be fair, hiding it like the plague.

And stupidly enough everyone believed he was still sunny and happy Bez.

Bez was everything but that at this moment.

Looking at Cele playing with Rubik in his kitchen, dressed in his clothes, still smelling like him from the night before, has his heart clenching and his throat closing, suffocating.

He wants to cry, hold onto Cele until every tear has fallen and feel the boy’s arms tight around him, telling him everything is ok, believing everything is ok.

But he can’t place this burden on Cele’s shoulders, he can’t actually have Cele know all his problems and worries, because he knows Cele would internalize some of them, and it would hurt him.

He snaps from his trance when Cele places a bit of cream from the brioche on his lips and licks it away, smiling at him.

“Want some?”

Bez nods, reaching for the pastry, when Cele takes it and holds it above his head.

“Nuh uh you gotta tell me something before having this”

“I love you baby, now, can I have my brioche or do you want to stay there all day?” “Once more and it’s yours” “I love you I love you I love you” “For this many times you can have a reward after breakfast”

Cele is smirking, biting his lip. He looks divine, Bez thinks.

“Couldn’t ask for anything better, no? Brioche and sex with you in the morning? I’ve hit jackpot”

Cele laughs, passing him his breakfast, which they both consume really fast, they’re barely finished and Bez is already dragging him back to their room, almost tripping on a pair of shoes left there yesterday in the rush of getting to bed after coming back home from the party.

“Woah calm down cowboy I am not going anywhere”

Bez laughs at the joke, having him sit in his lap, lips crushing against his.

“You may be more of a cowboy now than me, no? After all you were the one ridi-“ “Marco! Come on stop you know I get embarrassed” “And that’s why I do it, you look so cute all blushing like this”

It only makes Cele blush more, Bez bites his lip before kissing his boyfriend again, pulling him more on his lap, both can feel the other is hard, and need to get out their briefs immediately.

“I love you too” and Bez wants to cry, he’s so perfect he wants to cry, but instead he stays blissed as Cele climbs down his lap and removes his briefs, going to remove the shirt too, but Bez is quicker.

“No its hot, leave it on, I need to fuck you in it” “You are stupid when you’re horny you know that?” “I’m stupid always, with you it just doubles because i’m always horny”

Cele laughs and it feels simple, to love him as Bez does, he’s sure anyone would love Cele, because he deserves love more than anyone else in the world.

“You think you can fuck me with your clothes on or?”

Bez slaps his thigh lightly, taking off his shirt and boxers, laying Cele on the bed, opening his legs so he can fit in between them, blindly reaching for the lube as he leaves kisses all over Cele’s neck, stopping once or twice to leave purple bruises on it.

One of the boy’s hands finds its place tugging at Bez’s curls, the other around his neck, he’s already breathing deeply, he wants more.

“Bez fucks sake how long does it take for you to - fuckk” “you were saying?” he speaks against his throat, kissing his neck once more before moving to his lips.

He’s already stretched from the night before, but Bez always makes sure to work him open every time, even if they went not more than seven or eight hours ago, two fingers slipping in easily, the third as well, brushing on his prostate making Cele whimper.

“You sound so good amore”

Cele whines as Bez removes his fingers, begging for him to fuck him.

“And I was the needy one? You have a strange concept of eager” “I swear Marco if you don’t fuck me right this second I’m not sucking your dick for a month”

And Bez is pretty sure he could die if Cele actually did that, because he was simply amazing at it.

He pushes his dick inside his hole, welcoming, hot, wet, and has to bite back a moan not to sound pathetic. “Move please”

and he complies, he can’t say no to Cele, not when he’s like this, all blushy and hot under his fingertips.

He sets a rushed pace from the start, knows what Cele wants without even having to ask, after a year and a half being together he knows his body by heart, he mapped every single mole out and knows the most sensitive spots to tease.

“Fuck I love you Cele”

“I love you too”

Bez keeps his pace, hands on Cele’s hips as the boy wraps his arms around Bez’s neck to pull him closer, trying to fuse their bodies together.

“Don’t stop don’t stop please”

And Bez isn’t even dreaming of doing that, not with the way he can feel Cele around him and his little whimpers every time he pushes a bit deeper, hitting that sweet spot that gets Cele melting.

One of Bez’s hands moves from his boyfriend’s hip to his dick, stroking it in time with his thrusts, getting Cele a moaning mess, face red with heat and legs shaking already.

“Marco Marco I’m close Marco please” “I know amore, I’m not gonna last long either you feel so perfect right now”

Cele tries to smile at the praise but only manages to do so for two seconds before feeling Bez’s lips against his, draining the last inch of self control he still has.

He comes with a long whine, pulling Bez even closer than before, the older still stroking his dick to get out every last drop of his release, and is quick to follow, a grunt in Cele’s ear before emptying his load inside him, feeling him clench around him again at the stimulation.

They both stay still for a few moments, breathing in each other's mouth, a lazy kiss here and there, while Bez finally slips out with a groan.

“I want to stay here all day” Cele,a s always, has the will to do things of a 90 year old.

“We promised the others to go out in the afternoon for Gelato and it’s already two times we stand them up, if we do it thrice Pecco is coming for our heads”

Cele laughs, pouting a bit as he curls himself around Bez’s frame.

“And we can stay in bed until lunch, the hangout is at 5 anyway” “Ok ok, just hold me then”

Bez smiles back, stroking Cele’s hair softly. “I won’t let go even when you have to get dressed” “See? it’s you that wants to keep me in bed all day, what would you do all day in bed with me eh?” “Oh so many things tesoro, so many you wouldn’t walk out here with your own legs”

Cele laughs, Bez does too, they stay like that for a bit longer before Bez finally convinces Cele to take a bath with him and then sleep until they have to go out.

They’re in the water, warm but not too much, just the right temperature to be comfortable in, Cele’s back against Bez’s chest, the older hands around his torso and his chin resting on his shoulder. 

“We should get a new toy for Rubik, no? He broke the little rubber ball I bought him two months ago, he can’t play with a frisbee forever” “I saw a chicken shaped toy at the pet store yesterday” “I can buy it for him” “Cele you spend more for my dog than for yourself” “Yeah because I love you”

Bez wants to cry, he really does, as the water cools down and he can feel Cele relax more and more until he eventually falls asleep on him, and Bez makes sure to get him out of the tub and dress him in a comfy pair of clean underwear and a shirt and put him to bed, while putting on a pair of boxers as well and taking out rubik for a walk.

While he’s out he can’t help but get reached by those thoughts, dark and mean that have been clouding his mind lately.

He’s so scared that his problems are gonna cause Cele to feel sad and bad for him, and he can’t think of any solution, because he would eventually break down in front of him and wouldn’t know how to solve the mess if it happened.

He doesn’t know what to do, he wants to be with Cele for the rest of his life, that’s his only certainty, but how he can do that he doesn’t know.

He lets Rubik free in a dog park and sits on a bench, lighting upa cigarette and hoping the smell doesn’t stick, he knows cele doesn’t like it and he tried to stop for him, but sometimes it’s just a need.

He takes a drag and waits for the burning sensation, releasing it with a puff.

[urhoneycombwitch]

Valentine’s can be a drag especially for those of us with seasonal depression so this one goes out to YOU, my loves. Take care of yourselves and here’s a lil’ Eddie escapism.

cw: depression, fluff, r referred to as girl. also r fits into Eddie's old clothes but in my perfect world everything always fits just right! <3

___

Eddie peers through your front windows, forehead pressed to the cold glass, seeing only a shadowed living room and hoping your elderly neighbor with the yappy little dog doesn’t come out to yell at him again. This is his girlfriend’s house after all, and it’s Valentine’s Day, he’s got a right to be here- even if he looks like a stalker while doing it. 

He’s just worried about you, truth be told- he knows you’ve been feeling low lately, that bone-deep depression settling around you like a cloud you can’t seem to shake. Thing is, Eddie’s great at getting you to cheer up, so he figured when you didn’t return his calls yesterday to make Valentine’s plans he’d bring the outing to you instead. 

He raps his knuckles on your front door again, calling your name in a voice just-below a shout- “Angel, will you let me in? I’m pretty sure my left toe has frostbite, might need you to check it out-”

His ramble is interrupted when the door creaks open, and there you are, his girl- dressed in soft sweats and a thick pair of socks, one of his old band sweaters hugging your frame as you blink in surprise.

“Eddie,” you start, a little unsure, and he realizes in the span of a few seconds that he’s got it all wrong. You look so worn out, like you haven’t slept in days, even worse than when he saw you last. 

His heart twists at the same time your gaze drops to the box of chocolates and VHS tape in his hand, and your voice comes out all watery and it kills him. 

“Oh, shit, Eddie. I completely forgot. I’m so, so sorry.”

There are tears swimming in your eyes now and Eddie’s desperate for them not to spill over; mindlessly he tosses all the shit that doesn’t really matter to the porch and steps forward to wrap you in his arms. 

“Shh, sweetheart, it’s okay. Please don’t cry. You’ve got nothing to apologize for,” he soothes, running warm hands up and down your back, letting you crush your face to his chest. “I’m the one who’s a dope for the holidays, but it’s only ‘cuz I love you so much.”

“I wanted tonight to be special,” you say tearily, shuddering breaths coming too quick as Eddie tucks his chin over the crown of your head and holds you tight. “But I’ve just been so… out of it lately and I lost track of the days and I’m sorry-”

“Hey, I’m serious. No more apologies, ‘kay?” Eddie pulls back just far enough to settle his hands on either side of your face, cool rings at your cheeks as he brushes away your tears. “If you wanna be alone, I get it, babe, we can make plans another-”

“No!” You’re quick to interject, hands tightening around Eddie’s waist. “No, please stay. I can’t promise I’ll be any fun…”

Eddie scoffs at this, rolls his eyes before leaning down to give you a chaste and sweet kiss. “Liar. You’re always fun. I have fun just lookin’ at you. Fun should be your middle name.”

A half-smile pulls at your lips, and Eddie counts it as a win. He briefly extricates himself from you to scoop up the stuff he’d tossed to the porch, offering you the heart-shaped box and the VHS of Dirty Dancing. “Be my Valentine?”

He accents this request with an eyebrow wiggle, which wins him one of your real smiles, and you pull him into the house. “Okay. Only if you’ll be mine.”

Eddie shuts the door with his boot. “Got yourself a deal, princess.”

Another small smile, there and gone in a flash but still enough to make Eddie’s heart swell. You take the tape and frown at it. “Dirty Dancing? I thought you hated Patrick Swayze. Something about his hair being too much competition…”

“You’re right, I hate the guy, but I love you and I know you love this movie,” Eddie counters, shucking off his jacket and toeing off his boots.

You smile fondly, reaching to run a hand through Eddie’s mane of dark curls. “Well, for the record, Pat’s got nothin’ on you.”

Eddie gathers all the blankets in your house and makes a cozy nest for the two of you on the couch; you cuddle up in front of the TV with the box of chocolates to share, Eddie’s arm wrapped snug around your shoulders as the swell of beginning credits plays.

By the time the movie’s over, you’ve both fallen asleep in each other’s arms, Eddie with his head tipped back against the couch and you on his chest. The wind bites against the windows, cold and unforgiving, but the both of you stay warm and comfy under tattered quilts and fuzzy covers.

It’s the best sleep either of you have had in days. 

[babydollmarauders]

MEDIA MANAGEMENT — JACK HUGHES (PART THIRTEEN)

previous: twelve

next: fourteen

y/ndevils00

liked by lhughes_06, dougieham, and 127,337 others

y/ndevils00 fair warning ‼️ if you found tuesdays post sappy, you won’t wanna see tonight’s! okay! happy scrolling!

i wanna start tonight’s postgame by saying that i cannot express how proud i am of this team! my boys, my closest friends. you ended the regular season tonight by breaking the franchise record tonight for most wins in a single season! 52 wins, baby! and breaking the record for best single season turnaround in the NHL since the league switched to the 82 game schedule with a +49 point difference! you guys are the most talented, most hardworking, and most dedicated team of people that i’ve had the privilege of meeting.

we ended this game with an overtime win, 5-4! it may have been a hard start, but you turned it around in the 3rd!

we got TWO goals by uncle u-haula tonight! a tip-in by sheriff woody! and a goal by dj dougie-h! so proud of you guys!

lukey got his very first NHL point tonight with an assist on erik’s first goal of the night and i can confirm that i shed a few tears. my pretty baby also made his 98th point tonight with an assist on haulaback girl’s second goal of the night!

however, most importantly, lukey, my smush, got his very first NHL goal tonight with the game winning goal! which was the catalyst that got us that franchise record breaking 52nd win. AND he did it with an assist from his big brother, my bubs, jacky! making lil jizzy end this season with NINETY-NINE points!

i am so proud of you, smush! you played SO well tonight and i can’t wait to see you continue to take ass and kick names! i’m so proud to be your figurative (and hopefully eventually real) big sister <3

it’s been a hell of a season! let’s go to the playoffs, boys!

tagged ehaula, miles.wood44, dougieham, lhughes_06 and jackhughes

lhughes_06 thank you squishy ❤️ if i have anything to do with it, you’ll be my sister sooner rather than later

y/ndevils00 oh don’t make me cry again, i’ll get a headache!

y/ndevils00 i’m gonna cuddle you till death!

lhughes_06 i think i’d be okay with that

jackhughes i wouldn’t

y/ndevils00 @/jackhughes this isn’t about you though, is it?

jackhughes i’m so insanely proud of you little bro! can’t wait to kill it with you for many years to come!

lhughes_06 thank you jacky! it’s a dream come true to play with you!

y/ndevils00 SHUT UP STOP MAKING ME CRY! YOU ASSHOLES!

jackhughes you wanna hear something babe?

y/ndevils00 oh god what?

jackhughes @/lhughes_06 can i tell her?

lhughes_06 go for it

jackhughes so, you know luke is giving his first goal puck to our dad. but luke asked the refs if he could keep the puck he made his first assist with, so he can give it to you

y/ndevils00 what? you’re not fucking with me are you? because jack i stg if this is a joke to you, then i’m gonna start dating trevor

jackhughes not a joke, baby

trevorzegras why was i brought into this? and jack, you’re not even concerned that she threatened that? i think your girl wants me 🤪

jackhughes @/trevorzegras oh please, you guys would rip each other’s heads off within the first 10 minutes of dating

john.marino97 back to no feature on the post but i’ll accept this one for luke

y/ndevils00 yeah, yeah. ya know i said plenty of nice things about the team! it’s not all about the pictures!

y/ndevils00 besides, you didn’t even play in this game

john.marino97 still would’ve been nice to be included >:( but thank you best friend number 3, i love you

y/ndevils00 okay let’s not get carried away here!

john.marino97 you’re insufferable

y/ndevils00 i love you too, bff number 2

john.marino97 📸

y/ndevils00 damnit!

dawson1417 thank you bff 3! love you! let’s take on the playoffs!

y/ndevils00 i love you too, bff number 1! you’re gonna smash it!

john.marino97 @/y/ndevils00 why does his “i love you” come easy?!

y/ndevils00 @/john.marino97 i like to keep you on your toes 🤭

nicohischier thank you y/n/n! so glad to have you as our media manager!

y/ndevils00 awww 🫶 you still have to do the postgame interview

nicohischier fuck

jackhughes thank you sweet girl ❤️ so insanely lucky to have you in charge of our media. without you, i don’t know where i would be these past few years. thank you for being my best friend and my girlfriend (and yes, eventually my wife, i hope)

y/ndevils00 aww lil rizzy! YOU don’t have to do a postgame interview <3

jackhughes YES! suck it, hischier! @/nicohischier

y/ndevils00 i can still change my mind. don’t push your luck baby

jackhughes sorry babe, love you!

dougieham thanks y/n! it’s been an honor to work alongside you these past 2 seasons!

y/ndevils00 so glad i was given the opportunity to get you acclimated when you joined! love ya, doug!

jesperbratt thank you y/n! 😄 i’ve had lots of fun working with you!

y/ndevils00 please let me be your personal bodyguard. nobody will ever see me coming on the ice until i cross-check them for even looking at you the wrong way.

jesperbratt that’s nice! 🤍

_quinnhughes fun fact: y/n facetimed me crying after the game because “her smush won the game”. so proud of you lukey! you’re doing amazing man! keep up the great work!

y/ndevils00 that was supposed to stay between us, quinny! hope you have a good game though, fishy!

_quinnhughes thanks, sis!

y/ndevils00 @/jackhughes HE CALLED ME SIS! DID YOU SEE THAT? DID YOU SEE THAT?!

jackhughes i did, love! i see it! so happy for you!

lhughes_06 thanks bro! love ya!

[athetos]

It still doesn’t feel real that my brother died. I keep hearing my mom’s voice over the phone saying he died and the awful sob as she said that last word, “died”, the most broken noise. And she is on vacation and won’t be able to get home until Sunday night. I don’t have any tears left to cry. He turned 26 last month. Nobody expected this. He was a partier but he had gotten a lot better. He died presumably in his sleep after 4th of July. He was with his friends but he got home early before midnight. It’s not right. I don’t know what autopsy will say or when that will even be. He didn’t want to die. He had plans for after the weekend he was working a few hours away for the state and had a new job lined up too. I highly doubt there’s foul play but I wish there was so I would have somebody to blame. But there’s nobody to blame.

My roommate is out of state so I’m by myself. At least I fly home tomorrow and I get to meet my parents at their house. My mom is so strong and I love her so much. I know her heart is breaking far worse than mine. It’s going to be different now. I’m going to text her every day and call her often. My brother traveled for work but he lived with them and I know the house must feel so lonely and empty. I’m glad my stepfather is there for her, I know his heart is breaking too because he saw my brother and I as his kids even though we were teens when he started seeing my mom. My brother’s gone. I wish I lived closer to home but there’s directly flights now so I can be there in 2 hours but they only leave certain days of the week. I bought a ticket there but not one back yet. I’ll probably stay a week. I don’t know. I don’t care about work my boss said I have bereavement it’s 3 or 5 days but I don’t care about that either fuck it if I don’t get paid. I want to see the dogs and I wonder if they understand what happened or not. I even want to see my father for once. I talked to my mom but didn’t call the others because I didn’t know what to say and I feel kind of helpless that I can’t do anything and I don’t want to hear them cry when I can’t be there to hug them. But they understand and we’ve been texting and I’ll see them tomorrow. Idk it’s like… it doesn’t make sense I guess why this even happened he was 26 but there isn’t a reason things just happen but now we have to live with it and if I expected either of us to die it would probably be me because god knows I tried but I’m in a good place now and this happens and it just isn’t right.

I’m going to be okay I’m going to take it easy and go to the library to return my book and get another for the flight so I don’t stare out the window and cry the whole time and I’ll get lunch too because I don’t want to cook but I need to eat. And then I’ll rest and pack and call a friend or two and then I’ll try to sleep. I dreamt there was a second futurama movie I don’t remember anything else but it was on directv and my brother and I watched like the first 6 seasons of futurama together on Netflix when we were teens and I have fond memories of the show and laughing with him. At least I hugged him and told him I loved him last time I saw him in December so he knows that at least.

[sstwins]

Femslash Feb Day 2 - Sunflowers - Ymir/Historia

ok i thought this was going to be so hard for me but once i got the ground under my feet i actually LOVED IT

i think it was something i needed to write in a way. that closure

kinda spoilers but also like. spoilers from season 3 and it doesn’t say a whole lot just like you need to know that she dies. uhoh i might have just broke the news to you 

Brief Summary: It was funny. Just as Ymir was dying, she saw herself in a field of sunflowers.

Word Count: 804

Request by @miss-ali-lawliet

I’m still accepting ships for femslash feb!!! Send me your fave fem pairs and I’ll write you a fic sometime this month!! (13 spots left)

It was funny. Just as Ymir was dying, she saw herself in a field of sunflowers. All the world faded away… the chains tying her down, the hot breath of a titan about to eat her. And then the world was yellow.

“Come on, Ymir. It’s going to get late.”

Startled, Ymir looked down at her side to see a smaller girl with beautiful blonde hair. It was Historia, here, after all. She felt her eyes well up uncontrollably. Historia’s brow furrowed as she looked into the other girl’s eyes.

“Are you ok? Did I make you sad?” The girl covered her mouth. “Oh gosh. Maybe I was being too forward, having us come all the way out here alone. It’s ok if you want to go back.”

Ymir glanced down. Historia’s hands were tightly clenched around the handle of a picnic basket. The sight made her chuckle a little, wiping away a tear. “I should be the one asking you if you wanna go home. That basket’s looking awfully heavy for you.”

Historia huffed. “I told you I could handle it. This whole thing was my idea anyways.” She glanced up the path a short ways. “I was thinking we could stop on that hill. It has a beautiful view.”

What the hell. Why not go out in style. “Lead the way, princess.” Ymir bowed a little, making Historia even more disgruntled. She whipped around and started walking, and Ymir followed behind her, soaking in the view of the girl she loved more than anyone else. She would have given anything for her. In some ways, she guessed she had.

The view from the top really was gorgeous. All around them was a field of flowers, stretching out farther than Ymir would have thought possible within the walls. Historia put down her basket, taking out and unfurling a red and white checkered cloth.

“Let’s put that on the path,” Ymir directed her, “so we don’t squish anything.”

Historia cracked a smile. “That’s thoughtful,” she said, arranging everything. The picnic had fresh fruit, potatoes (of course), and…

“Meat?” Ymir questioned, looking down at its glistening bloodiness. “Where did you get your hands on that?”

“Oh you know.” Historia puffed up her chest. “I have my ways. Now come on. The sun’s going to go down soon. We need to get back before we’re missed.”

Ymir settled down next to the other girl. Slowly, they both began to eat, settling into the quiet peace of chewing. When Ymir reached for an apple, her hand brushed across Historia’s, and they both blushed. But soon, Ymir’s appetite slowed.

“This isn’t real, is it?” she asked, looking over at Historia. “You’re not really here.”

“It can be as real as you want it to be.” Historia smiled warmly at her. “I’m here as long as you need me. Until you’re ready to move on.”

And again, Ymir found herself starting to cry. “I shouldn’t have left you,” she whispered, scrubbing at her eyes. She tried to not show weakness usually, but Historia always brought out her vulnerability. “Not for those dumbass boys. I don’t know why I did that. I’m sorry.”

“Oh, Ymir.” Historia placed a hand on her knee. “It’s ok. I understand. And I forgive you.”

Now Ymir was really crying, more than she’d cried in years. “I’m going to miss you so much,” she choked out, grabbing Historia’s hands in her own. “I don’t know what I’ll do without you.”

Historia gave her a comforting squeeze. “You’ll figure it out. I know it. You’re tough. And neither of us know what’s waiting for you now. If anything, you should worry about me. I’ll have to keep going without you for years.”

“Yeah, I guess that’s true.” Ymir sniffed, the tears finally running out. “Can I get a hug before I go?”

“Oh, more than that.” Historia leaned up, grabbing Ymir’s face. She met her lips in a kiss that was everything Ymir had hoped it would be. Soft, and warm, and full of the love that she’d never thought she’d deserve. But it couldn’t last. And as Historia pulled away, Ymir knew it was time. 

“I guess this is it,” she said, gazing off towards the horizon. She could hear a dull roar in her head. Reality trying to pull her back. “Promise you’ll never forget me, okay?”

“I could never.” Historia said, giving her hand one final squeeze. “Now go and be the brave girl I know you are.”

Ymir smiled one final time as the tender scene was ripped away from her. The real world met her with gnashing teeth and a mouth open wide in front of her.

No one would ever know it, least of all Historia herself. But when Ymir died, she still had that faint smile on her face.

[zima74824]

Spoilers for season 3 of the bad batch

Zima and crosshair angst fic

Zima noticed that crosshairs hands were shaking

Zima : crosshair what’s the matter?

Crosshair: I don’t think I’m going to make it out alive

Zima took his hands and held them*

Zima : crosshair please don’t talk like that babe you’re gonna be ok I promise you that you will be alright please don’t give up on me babe …..i need you….

Crosshair: I….i don’t know what to say that’ll make you happy….you said you’d eventually take me back home….

Zima : I will! But the squad is struggling a lot right now

Crosshair was in tears he was broken from the trauma he suffered from being kept with hemlock *

Crosshair : I wanna go back home but omegas not gonna help us get out she’s gonna make things worse….

Zima : we have to try babe it’s either that or giving up completely and I know you don’t wanna stay here anymore

*suddenly hemlock said*

Hemlock : I don’t think either of you will be going anywhere

Crosshair: kriff….

Zima stood up as hemlock grabs her by the wrist *

Zima : hey! Let go!

Hemlock kicked her stomach *

Crosshair: zima! Leave her alone!!!

Crosshair said trying to fight hemlock as hemlock took her away *

Crosshair : no!!! Zima !!! Fuckfuckfuckfuck! This is really bad!

Crosshair paced around in circles *

Omega : crosshair I -

Crosshair: omega! Listen to me very carefully ok? Hemlock took zima I want you to sneak into the vents a see what he’s doing to her without getting caught do you understand????

Omega : I’m on it *she said going inside the vents as she heard screaming she gasped as she sees that zimas arm was broken due to hemlock pulling and twisting it *

Omega ran to crosshair *

Omega : crosshair ! It’s zima she’s injured! Hemlock broke her arm

Crosshair was fuled of anger as he goes to her*

Zima was silently sobbing as crosshair ran to her side *

Crosshair: zima! Oh my god! What did he do to you???? That sick FUCK!!!

Zima : crosshair….it hurts really bad….

Crosshair: shhhh shhh I know it does let’s get you fixed up ….

Crosshair grabs some bandages

Crosshair: alright hold still for me

Zima winced and whimpered as he popped the bone back in place *

Crosshair: shhhhh….shhh I know ….

Crosshair puts a cast on her arm*

Crosshair injects her with anesthetic he found in the kit*

Zima winced a little *

Crosshair grabs his phone *

Crosshair: do you wanna call wrecker so he can get you home?

Zima nods *

Crosshair called him

Wrecker: crosshair? Why’re you callin- oh it’s just you zima

Zima : wrecker I wanna come home please! Hemlock broke my arm!

Wrecker gasps as he sees the cast*

Zima sobbed *

Wrecker: don’t cry baby it’ll be alright I’m on the way now find a way to get outside without getting caught ok???

Zima nods as she hung up *

Zima : I-I’m sorry I gotta go….

Crosshair: all I care about is your safety I’ll be fine I’ll text you if I need anything just….get better soon ok?

Zima : ok…

*zima left and waited outside in the cold *

Zima was shivering *

Zima : cmoooon wrecker please hurry…….

Wrecker: hunter I’m goin out

Hunter : where do you think you’re going???

Wrecker: zima needs me she’s hurt real bad she’s waiting for me outside

Hunter : it could be a trap wrecker

Wrecker: she called me through crosshairs phone!! I’m telling you she needs me!

Hunter : fine we will get her but if anything happens….

Wrecker: I’ve got this sarge

Zima sees a ship landing *

Wrecker walked out and saw her

Zima : WRECKER!!!!!

Wrecker: zima!!! Oh my sweet angel !

Wrecker said picking her up and hugging her gently *

Wrecker: Im sorry crosshair but we will come get you next time i promise

Crosshair: I know you will….just take care of her

Wrecker carried zima into the ship*

Wrecker: what exactly happened????

Zima explained the entire situation as his eyes softened *

Wrecker: well….at least you’re safe now……cmon let’s go home we will come back for these two later

[scarlettriot]

Stood Up

Pairing: Sero/F!Reader

Summary: When you find your dating making out with someone else at a Halloween party, Hanta swoops in and reclaims your evening, rekindling an old flame.

Contains: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Demisexual Reader, Astronomy/Greek Lore Nerd Sero, Old flame

Warnings: 18+ Below the cut, Minors DNI! Swearing, Demi Problems, Praise/Smidge of Degradation, Name-calling (slut & whore), Pet names (Love, good girl, pretty girl), Car Sex, F Masturbation, Oral M Receiving (Road Head) I think that's everything

A/N: This took me much longer than I expected. It's also my first time writing Sero. Given the season, I decided to add a touch of Halloween and costumes to this one.

If you'd like to read other's in the Stood Up series, here are the links:

Stood Up - Bakugo - WC 3,502

Stood Up - Kirishima - WC 3,612

Stood Up - Kaminari - WC 2,461

Word Count Starting Below: 3,494

Denki Kaminari's annual Halloween bash was in full swing by the time Hanta had arrived. He'd come straight from patrol, wrapping himself up in his own tape making a half assed mummy costume for himself. Not like anyone would notice with the flashing colored lights, loud music, and abundance of liquor.

However, Hanta didn't even make it up to the double glass front doors of Denki's home. Not before doing a double take at the very familiar pirate that ran by him.

"Y/N?" You stopped allowing him the chance to catch up to you, "Holy shit, it is you, when the hell did you get back?"

Three years you'd been gone, working in America. Time differences and busy schedules made it so the two of you barely kept in touch. It was a shame, Hanta thought, considering how close the two of you used to be.

"I- uh- just a few weeks now. I heard you were helping out with the disaster relief after that storm."

It had to be his eyes playing tricks on him, the funny colors of the dancing lights were what made your cheeks look wet, right? Those couldn't have been tears.

"I was, yeah, but I got back yesterday. I didn't know-"

"Get the hell outta here!" His head snapped back towards the front of the house, just in time to see Eijiro, dressed in an impressive werewolf costume, literally throw someone out of the party. The guy drunkenly stumbled off, Eijiro walking over towards where Hanta was standing with you. "Y/N, you good?"

You nodded while Hanta tried to piece together what'd happened. "Sorry, it took me a second to find the bastard. Do ya wanna come back in? I'll make sure he leaves."

"No, Eijiro, thanks though. I'm just gonna head home."

The wolfman frowned but understood. "We'll have a smaller party for ya! Just the gang as a welcome home! You know Denki will look for any excuse to throw a party." He turned his gaze on Hanta. "A mummy, really?"

"You've been a damn werewolf for the last two years! You don't get to give me crap."

Eijiro poked the fuzzy pointed red ears carefully set into his spiky hair. "Mina and I worked real hard on this costume... seemed like a waste to only wear it once."

"We both know you haven't just worn those once, big man."

That got a chuckle out of you while all Eijiro could do was shrug and try to hide a shit-eating grin.

He asked you again if you'd like to stay and once more you said you were going to just head home. It was when you specifically said you were going to be walking home that Hanta spoke up offering to drive you back to your home since it was Halloween and people were creeps.

You were a damn pro hero but he still didn't feel right about just letting you walk home alone.

When you agreed he told Eijiro he'd be back soon and walked over with you to his car.

>>><<<

A part of you missed the old station wagon Hanta used to drive, not that this BMW he now drove wasn't absolutely amazing, you just sort of missed the comfort of the old car.

He waited until he'd reached the end of Denki's long, winding driveway to finally speak. "So, you wanna tell me what happened back there, or am I just supposed to pretend like Kiri didn't kick someone out on your behalf?"

"You could probably just ask Kiri and he'd tell you."

"I could, but, I'd like to hear it from you."

You knew you could tell him, there was nothing you couldn't tell Hanta. There was once a time when the man knew every single detail about your life. Sure, time and distance had put a strain on that relationship but you were back now. There was no reason why you couldn't at least start rebuilding what you and Hanta once had.

"Y/N, if you don't wanna say anything-"

"I was just casually seeing this guy. You know me and dating, how we don't always work out." You said abruptly and he quit talking, "And so, we weren't like official but we said we'd go to this party together. Well, I got here and went looking for him and found him making out with one of Hawks' sidekicks. I got a little upset when he noticed me and, well, he just said he found someone better."

Hanta actually stopped the car, pulled off to the side of the road, threw it in park, and looked right at you because he knew what found someone better meant exactly. You'd used those words in high school when that guy from Shiketsu that you'd been seeing got pissed off that you wouldn't put out and ended it with you. You went to his dorm crying because he 'found someone better', is what you told him. It took him a few hours to get the truth out of you.

You'd always been the kind of person to love with your entire heart but sexually, you'd confessed that you felt different from all the other kids your age back then. Not having the same urges and desires that everyone else seemed stricken with.

"Hanta, it's fine, really. Kiri heard the whole thing and, well, you saw what happened."

"Doesn't make it right! So, you went on a couple dates with a guy, that doesn't mean he just gets to expect you to put out for him! Even if you weren't demi, no one gets to just assume they deserve sex."

His lips were pressed in a narrow line, nostrils flared once in annoyance. He was usually so calm and laid back that you thought it rather cute when he got overprotective. "It's alright, Hants, really."

He still gave you a look that said he disagreed but then shook his head, dropping the subject for now at least.

"Still like those late-night drives?"

"I love them."

"Good."

Hanta waited for a car to pass and whipped the car in the other direction.

It wasn't long before he had the windows rolled down, conversations filling in the blanks of lost time, in between belting out choruses of your favorite songs. Minutes slipped by the further he drove, you lost track of both time and kilometers, letting him tell you all about the ridiculous antics the group had been up to.

Eventually, you caught the scent of salty air and even in the dark, you had a pretty good idea where Hanta was going. He followed a winding road, making two left turns and then a right leaving you on a stretch of road that paralleled the ocean.

You let your head fall against the seat, eyes falling shut and inhaling that wonderful smell you missed so much. Hanta had just one hand lazily on the wheel, his elbow resting out the open window, a relaxed smile was illuminated in soft orange lights off his dash.

You let your head roll onto his shoulder, not as easily done without the bench seat in his station wagon but it worked nonetheless. "Thanks."

His free hand came to rest on your knee, "Anytime."

He turned the wheel, pulling over and parking in front of a small beach access that you guys had found at 3 in the morning five years prior. Hanta kicked off his shoes, leaving them in the car to avoid them being sand-filled and you did the same with the knee-high boots purely because you longed to feel the sand between your toes.

The wooden planks were worn, parts buried beneath the sand until eventually, none remained. Breaking waves flooded your ears and you made a run for them! Before you could reach the lapping water though, tape had wound around your middle and yanked you backward.

"Not happening!" Hanta said firmly. "Last time I let you talk me into late-night swimming we didn't have a change of clothes either and we both got so sick! I think I might have actually died without Bakugo's soup!"

You chuckled, remembering being nineteen and curled up with Hanta on the sofa in the living room of the apartment you all shared for nearly a week. The sniffles didn't cease for almost three weeks.

"Okay, okay, no swimming." You flopped back down into the sand, his tape still attached meaning the cellophane hero was pulled down with you. "Tell me about the stars then, Hants. Who's out tonight?"

Astronomy was a hobby of Hanta's you learned about after moving into the dorms your first year. It wasn't uncommon to find him out on the roof most nights, laying on his back and looking up into the clear night sky littered with twinkling stars, usually with a joint pressed between his lips. It became almost a habit for him to grab you on his way up, pulling you along because you were more than happy listening to him tell you about each constellation and the stories behind them.

It was around this time of year, in your final year of high school; somewhere between him recalling the greek mythos of Aries and Sagittarius that you noticed your heart beating a little faster. You realized something had shifted between the two of you, and, holy shit, was this what it felt like to have a crush! When the hell did that happen?

You'd entrusted everything to Hanta back then, and now, laying in the sand shoulder to shoulder while he talked about Draco, that familiar feeling stirred again. You remembered what it was supposed to be like when you weren't forcing it for some random guy. How simple it was supposed to be.

You inclined on an elbow and he stopped mid-sentence. "Eh, everything alright?" You nodded but he looked anything but convinced, mirroring your position and asking you again.

It was easy for you to lean forward, to brush your lips against his for the first time in three years. And, when you pulled away, he looked about as shocked as he had the night you'd done it when you were eighteen.

"You- you still like me?"

When you left for America, you'd both agreed to put a pause on your sort of relationship. Free to date and screw whomever you pleased because three years was a long time and it just seemed like a fair decision to make. The realization that he might now have someone else special in his life dawned on you...

"Yeah but I totally understand if things are different now and I shoulda asked- oof!"

He kissed you so hard you toppled back into the sand, quick pecks, one right after another, ending them with a long one that nearly left you breathless.

"I didn't know how to bring it up. I didn't want to make you feel awkward about things or make you think I expected something. I thought that maybe since we didn't talk for a while your feelings might have changed."

"I can say with confidence they haven't."

"Thank fuck." He groaned and captured your lips in another searing kiss.

It was easy to lift his shirt off, the shreds of tape that remained were now covered with gritty sand that clung to your fingers as you traced the chest and torso you knew so well. Gliding over defined muscles, lingering on old scars and mapping out new ones he'd collected in your time apart.

His own hands were busy flicking open the brass fastenings of your corset, huffing about it being so much more difficult to get to your chest and something about it being very unfair.

By the time he'd undone the last one, bright headlights shown across the beach. "Shit."

Giggling ensued from the walkway and you both sighed, at least it wasn't the police or a hero patrol. Hanta gathered his shirt and ran back to his car with his hand in yours.

"I thought our days of being caught were over."

"At least it wasn't Mr. Aizawa this time."

A chill ran down your spine remembering the night and the lecture you'd received when your teacher had caught Hanta sneaking out of your room early one morning.

"So, uh, do you still plan on going to Denki's party?" You asked innocently enough but Hanta knew you far too well.

"I think I'm gonna miss it this year." His hand found a home on your upper thigh. "Apparently, you and I have a lot of catching up to do. Lost time to make up for and all that."

"Too bad you don't have that old station wagon anymore. If you did, we wouldn't have to wait to get back."

Dark eyes glanced over at you not so subtly parting your legs.

"I dunno. It's not too often I travel in the backseat of my own car but I've been told it's pretty roomy. Lots of legroom."

Your hand ran over your legs, dipping down to lightly brush your more sensitive parts, thankful you opted for the thin pair of black leggings rather than the dark skinny jeans. Your fingers danced again and this time you let a soft moan pass your lips. "Eyes on the road, Hants."

"That's a little hard to do when I've got you spread out in the passenger's seat." He grabbed your free hand and pressed it against the bulge in his pants. "You've got me distracted, filthy little woman."

You appreciated him testing the waters, a subtle way of checking if you liked those nicknames he used only in private with you, giving you a chance to protest if your likes had changed. They were one's that only felt right coming from him and you were eager to hear more.

Forgoing your own high, you leaned over the center console as best you could, undoing his belt first, followed quickly by his zipper letting his strained cock be free.

His grip tightened on your leg when you kissed the tip of him. "Just like old times, huh?"

A chuckle turned quickly into a moan, taking him in your mouth, pushing yourself further on his cock, fighting your gag reflex to get him down your throat. Hanta reclined his seat further, giving you more room to work with.

Your legs clenched tighter with every groan you pulled from him, wiggling your hips in the seat, letting a hand fall back between your own legs. There was an attempt of a moan around his cock when his fingers coiled in your hair. "Such a good slut. Keep fuckin' goin'." He let you continue at your own speed, needing to focus as best he could on the road rather than what you were doing but, damn, you were making that increasingly difficult.

He wasn't stopping you though. He rarely did. You'd sucked him off on countless drives before and only stopped when- "That's it." He lifted you off him by your hair at the same time he pulled off the road. There was a convenient turn-off, hidden by overgrown brush you noticed before he shut off the headlights.

Hanta took you by the chin, smearing drool. "Backseat, pretty girl." He reached into the glove box and pulled out a foil wrapper, "What do you say we test out that legroom?"

He wait to watch your smile grow wide before crawling into the back because he had to be the first to go if this had any chance of working. Once situated, pants under his thighs, he patted his lap for you to climb over.

You slid easily onto his lap, hands traveling up and over his shoulders, kissing hard while you rocked your hips against impossibly hard length.

There was so much comfort in the familiarity of him. It wasn't awkward to fall back into rhythm with Hanta, to remember that he loved the feeling of your nails dragging down his chest. And he was just as eager to get your shirt off, reach your breasts he'd missed so much, and get his tongue on your nipples.

Your head tipped backward, loving the pace he set, hips bouncing creating the perfect tug on your nipples between his teeth.

"Love, if I promise to buy you a new pair, can I rip these damn leggings? They're just so thin and-"

"Please." Your breathy moan had him smirking and with a single grunt the leggings were ruined, cool air from the vents had only a moment to touch your bare ass before Hanta's hands reclaimed it.

There was no way he hadn't felt your arousal before ripping your clothes off, you soaked through your panties and leggings, you knew that, but that didn't stop him from commenting on how soaked you were now on his fingers. "Want me inside you, whore? I think you do."

You nodded with a whimper and he slipped a finger in. "Hants, noo- I- I want your cock, please."

"You're gonna take my fingers like a good little slut first." You clenched at the words falling from his mouth. "So fuckin' tight you can barely take a finger. How'm I supposed to fit in here if you can even take a single finger? Need you to loosen up, alright." He pushed another finger in, scissoring the two inside you.

"This gonna make you cum? You need this bad, don't you? Tell me. Tell me how bad you need to cum."

"I want it. Please, please, I need it. I'm so close," You babbled and ripped the foil open with his teeth, rolling it with one hand on his cock. In an instant, his fingers had been replaced with this dick. Sticky fingers on your ass helping you ease down on him with a hiss.

"Fuck," Hanta let out a throaty chuckle, "You still fuckin' feel the absolute best." He dropped a kiss between your breasts, letting you adjust to his girth. "Perfect. Good girl. Such a fuckin' good little slut."

He wasn't about to last long. Not once you started bouncing up and down on him, your tits right in front of his face.

"Couldn't even wait for me to get you home, had to fucking tease me in the damn car." He held onto the fat of your ass, pulling you along him and slamming you down hard.

"Kinda pathetic how desperate you are. Fuck. Kinda hot too."

When the top of your head bumped the roof of the car, he scooted lower, trying to give you as much room to ride him however you pleased.

"What do you need? You wanna cum, don't you, pretty girl, what do you need?"

"Faster, faster please."

Hanta shifted even lower, making you grab onto the two headrests while he thrust his hips up into you at a rapid speed. His thumb on your clit was the additional stimulation you needed to fall over the edge. Nails clawing at the black leather as he continued to moan below you now chasing his own release.

You stayed poised above him, using every last bit of strength to stay upright until his mouth was rambling and his cock pulsed inside of you. Fingers bruising your skin before holding your pelvis snuggly against his.

He was bent in a way that looked entirely uncomfortable and yet he still smiled so widely. Reaching up to brush hair out of your eyes, "You okay?"

"Perfects, Hants. A little sore but I'm sure you are too." He moved off his lap, letting him slip out of you with a groan, "Is your neck gonna be okay?"

"I'll be fine. Having you back, love, is more than worth a little bit of a neck cramp."

As he tied a knot in the condom, depositing it into a plastic bag he had tucked away under his seat, Hanta raised a brow, "Love, really, are you alright? Please, tell me if I hurt you at all."

"No! I'm good, why?"

"You're sitting silly."

You were sitting a little odd, perched on your knees rather than sitting on your ass because the leather was chilly and you told Hanta as much making him laugh. "Wait, I think I can help." He leaned back to the front of the car, flicking a button making it glow. Once he tucked himself back in his pants he hopped out of the car and you could see him rummaging in his trunk through the rear window.

"I keep forgetting to take this out from our camping trip a couple months ago. Guess it turned out to be a good thing." He laid the blanket down over the passenger's seat, declaring that should help a bit.

You wrapped the now toasty warm blanket around your bottom half while Hanta drove back towards the city, your head on his shoulder, his hand on your thigh.

"So, shopping tomorrow? I believe I owe you a pair of leggings..."

"It's a date."

[huntingforsatisfaction]

Pink Promise

Pairing: Dean Winchester X younger sibling reader(not in an incest way)

Summary: Dean is there to help his younger sibling after they have a nightmare 

Words: 2211

Warnings: fairly angsty, but still very very fluffy, a detailed nightmare, mentions of John Winchester’s parenting style, bad writing?, like one cuss word, a tiny tiny bit of gore

Note about characters: in the present scenes the reader is 16 and in the flashbacks they’re 6 and the reader and Dean have like a 13/14 year age gap so he’s like 19/20 in the flashbacks, there isn’t any gendered terms for the reader so it’s neutral(unless you count hair being braided as a gendered term, but boys can have braided hair cause gender isn’t real), and finally this takes place in season 5

Dean woke up, not for any purpose, just one of those weird moments where you randomly wake up in the middle of the night. He shook his head and began fluffing his pillow, stopping when he heard soft crying.

“(Y/N)?” He softly called out.

You were laying with your back facing out and your face squished into the musty cushions of the small motel room couch, a failed attempt at muffling your cries.

“Y-Yeah Dean? Something wrong?” You tried to play it off.

“I was gonna ask you the same thing. Were you crying?”

When you guys first got your room Dean cursed the streetlight right outside the window, but now he watched how it illuminated you as you dropped your head down.

“Nightmare?”

You looked up and made eye contact before slowly nodding a yes.

“Think you’re gonna be able to go back to sleep?”

You dropped your gaze again as your face screwed up and you could feel new tears form on your lash line.

“No.” You softly croaked out, barely audible over Sam’s snores.

                                                   ~Flashback~

You couldn’t breathe, too focused on staying quiet to risk opening your mouth. Once the sting in your eyes and the back of your throat calmed down you went back to sleep.

“Sammy?”

You screamed out running through an old grey house.

“No no no please no!” You heard him scream somewhere you couldn’t find.

“Sammy!” You huffed before taking off running down the hall you came from.

As you ran around the house you felt small and helpless, like when you got separated from your brothers in the corn maze at the pumpkin patch in Iowa, the one Dean took you to without your dad knowing.

“Dean?” You desperately called for your brother as your feet pounded against the floor. 

Completely unaware of your surroundings you ran, the only thing on your mind was finding your brother. Not paying attention to your surroundings you tripped, your heart raced knowing how your dad always got on you for that. You got up and looked down to see what sent you flying to the cracked floorboards.

“Dean!” You screamed

You woke up again, heart pounding in your head and toes. You stopped gasping for air when you felt your dad roll over next to you, holding it in again to stay quiet. Collecting your moose and your blanket, the one you got in Oregon when you were 3 and have refused to sleep without ever since, you slipped off of the bed as silently as possible. Your dad and Dean were fumigating a house in a fancy neighborhood so the only hotel available was a little nicer than your usual moldy motels. The vinyl floorboards stayed quiet as you snuck over to the door that joined your brothers’ room to you and your dad’s. You glanced at your brothers sleeping in their beds before moving their jackets off of the chair that sat in the corner. Dropping your blanket on the floor you traded it for the two flannels that were under their jackets and curled up into the chair. Once you were comfortable you finally let the tears flow, crying softly at first and burying your face into Mort the moose as your chest heaved more and more with the weight of your cries. 

 “(Y/N)?” You heard Dean call out in confusion as he shut the drawer of his nightstand. 

 “S-sorry for waking you up.” You tossed off the flannels and picked up your blanket, heading back to your proper room.

 “No, no, hey, hey, come here.” Dean moved over in his bed and opened his arms, lightly flicking his wrist to call you over to him. 

You gingerly padded over to his bed and with a little effort jumped up.

 “I’m gonna guess it wasn’t growing pains that woke you up.” Dean chuckled. 

 “Ok, I’m sorry, bad timing. Now come on peanut, stop giving me that face and come in closer.” He said shifting so he could comfortably open up his arms for you. 

You still continued to pout, but scooted into his embrace until your body felt lighter. 

“Sorry.” You quietly mumbled, it came out kind of funny because of how your cheek was squished against your brother’s chest. 

Dean pulled back and nudged your chin up, signaling you to make eye contact  with him before resting his hand on your shoulder. His comforting softness melted away as he turned dead serious. 

“Listen to me, do not ever and I mean ever apologize to someone because you’re upset. Ok?” He searched your eyes waiting for an answer, which you gave him with a nod. 

“Now tell me why someone broke into my room and stole my favorite flannel.” And just like that Dean pulled you back into him and your softy of a brother was back.

“Dad yells at me when I don’t sleep and when I cry and when I ask him questions, so I came in here to cry” Even your big brother’s arms couldn’t shield you from the sadness that entered your body.

“Well I’m not dad, neither is Mort the moose, and neither is Sammy.” Dean started.

“Sammy snores now, he’s old.” You shot Sam a dirty look even though he was dead asleep.

“Yeah Sammy is old now, he drools too.” Dean joined you in giving his younger brother the stink eye. “Now tell me, what has my peanut so upset?”

“Nightmare.” 

“Nightmare? Do you wanna talk about it?” Dean began playing with your hair as he awaited your response.

Staring up at your older brother’s face you thought about it. 

“No.” You wanted to say what happened, to get it out of your mind, but you didn’t want to tell him about how you saw his still body covered in blood with his stomach in shreds. 

“No? That’s okay.” 

You guys sat quietly listening to the traffic outside and Sam’s snores. After a while Dean assumed you had fallen asleep, but just as he shut his own eyes your little voice stirred him.

“D?”

“Mm, yeah (Y/N)?’

“Are monsters real?”

                                                       ~Present~

Dean watched you hang your head again before scooting to the side and opening up his covers.

“Wanna talk about it kid?”

Even in your sad and scared state a genuine smile broke out across your face, it was small, but still genuine. Without responding to your brother you kicked off the soft blanket that you had fought Sam for and walked over to Dean’s bed. Since motel beds are always oddly tall you had to do a little jump to get onto it, shooting a quick glare at Dean for being clearly amused at your struggle. Tentatively Dean opened up his arms to you and you awkwardly shuffled in until your head hit his shoulder and you instantly melted. The both of you sat there without a word, wondering what the other was thinking, unaware that you were both thinking the same thing. You thought about how long it had been since you two laid like this, both of you becoming aware of how long it had really been since you showed each other affection and comfort, and how after all of these years you two felt so natural. Neither of you took into account how the other’s muscles softened, how the past few years of Azazel, the door to Hell, your dad’s death, Sam’s death, Dean’s death, demons, vampires, and vengeful spirits all released from your guys’ bodies. For the first time in months neither of you cared about Lucifer or Michael or any other dick with wings. 

“Hey Dean.” You finally broke the near silence.

“Yeah?” Your ear being pressed to Dean’s chest made his voice sound deeper and you could feel his jaw move against the top of your head. 

“Do you remember when I was super young and we were staying at that nice hotel in Seattle and I had that really bad nightmare?” You slipped the comforter under your brother’s arm so you could fidget with it.

“Yeah I do actually, but how the hell do you remember it? You were like what, six? So that means it was ten whole years ago.” 

“I don’t think I would remember it if it wasn’t the start of the recurring nightmare I always have.” The first part was a lie. That night had been the first time you ever truly felt like you had a family, the first time you had felt comfort in your life. You could never forget that. 

“Oh.” Dean began to play with your hair, taking three small pieces and trying to see if he could still remember how to braid, something he learned because you hated how John would always cut your hair. 

“This dream,” you started, “it’s bad. It’s always the same house, this weird grey one with cracked floors and for some reason the walls are cement. It’s weird. But in the dream I can never find my way, it’s like a labyrinth and every time I get more and more lost the hallways get darker and darker. It always starts with me screaming for Sammy and he doesn’t respond, but I can hear him. I can hear him.”, Your voice begins to break, “I can hear him screaming no over and over again, like he’s getting attacked and then when I call out for him again he’s silent. So I’ll start running to find him, I guess I’ve always had a hunter's instinct. Then when I’m running around I trip and every time I trip I always get this feeling of fear about dad yelling at me for always being clumsy. But then when I. '' You stop, dropping your head and gaze so far down that all you can see is your own chest. Dean drops the chunk of hair he was twisting in his fingers and looks down at you.

“It’s okay.” He whispers, lightly squeezing your arm to ground you, something he always does when you’re upset. 

His encouragement only made things worse as tears began to fall again. Closing your eyes you take a quick deep breath.

“When I look down to see what I tripped over it’s you. You’re dead. Bloody with your stomach all ripped up, I never see the monster, but it must be something with claws. Then it just ends there. Tonight was kind of different though. Our ages are always different in the dream. Sammy’s voice always sounds like it did when he was 16 so I don’t think he changes, but sometimes I’m a kid and you’re a teenager like when I first had it or we’re both teenagers or we’re the ages we are now or sometimes I’m a kid and you’re an adult. But tonight, tonight I was 16 like I am now and you were a little kid.”

                                                      ~Flashback~

Dean didn’t know what to do, he felt like the deer that stopped in the headlights and actually got hit. He’d been through this before with Sam, but he had been older and wasn’t already upset when they had the conversation. He had felt guilty every time he lied to Sam about monsters and didn’t want to give you that same false hope, but he resented his dad for teaching him about monsters when he was this young. 

“I’m not sure of anything, (Y/N).” It technically wasn’t a lie, while Dean was sure that monsters existed he wasn’t sure of what to tell you.

“Well actually no, I am sure of one thing. Nothing and I mean nothing, no man, no woman, no animal, and sure as hell no monsters will ever hurt you because you are strong and I will kick their butt if they even try.” Dean meant that fully, he’s meant that since the day his dad sat him and Sam down to tell them they have a little sibling.

“Pink promise?” You said looking up at Dean.

“Pink promise?” He pulled back and questioned you.

“A pink promise.” You huffed, freeing your arm out from under Dean’s and extending your pinky finger.

“Oohh, a pinky promise.” Dean held up his arm and extended his own pinky.

“No, it’s pink promise.” You pulled your hand back.

“Ok, I pink promise that nothing will ever hurt you.” And to that you guys joined pinkies.

                                                     ~Present~

You begin to quietly sob into your brother’s chest. Dean put his hand at the nape of your neck and put his cheek on the top of your head and let you cry it out, as you calmed down he pulled back and kissed your forehead.

“Hey look, peanut. Sammy and I are not going anywhere, we will always be with you, ok. A lot is going on right now and it will all be okay, we’ve gotten out of so many situations that we shouldn’t have and this one will be no different. I pink promise.” Dean raised up his arm and extended his pinky.

“Oh fuck off.” You lightly hit his hand. 

Unfazed Dean kept his hand up and smugly smiled down at you. You sigh and extend your own pinky. As your fingers wrapped around each other your annoyed façade broke, your smile was joined by a few tears.

“Pink promise.”

A/N: So hey, your local forest wench here. This is definitely different from other stuff I post. I’ve never written a fanfiction before(so basically sorry if it’s not too good and please be patient with me), but I do read a lot of of it and maladaptive daydream a lot so I always have plenty of ideas. I came up with this idea this morning and really liked it, thought that maybe other people would like it and that it would be kind of greedy to keep it to myself. I’m actually really insanely proud of this ngl. If people like this and I feel comfortable, I might even write some more in the future.

[the-only-ace]

Hey I know you are really busy with all the request and job and all that but can you do shinee's reaction to s/o stealing their t-shirts and hoodies?? You can make them one shots of you want too😁

shinee reacts: their s/o wearing their clothes

heyyy~ i really liked this request because i personally love to do this. for this request, i want to try something new since you gave me an idea with the one-shots part. so instead of describing their reactions, i'll convey it in a form of a short story. it will still be per member! i hope you will like this one (heads up though, the posts is a bit longer than my usual shinee reacts) <3

p.s. if you guys can, kindly let me know if you like this kind of format for shinee reacts. thank you!

send in your requests here!

onew / jinki: you sighed for the nth time within just 10 short minutes. you were staring and pouting in front of your closet for you can't find the perfect clothes for your brunch date with onew. it was a hot day today and you just wanted to wear something cute but comfortable. however, it seems like your wardrobe doesn't offer that kind of outfit.

your eyes slowly traveled toward onew's part of the closet. his side was full of quirky graphic tees which you always find adorable. you don't usually borrow his clothes but you can't help but to take a peek at them and take the one that caught your eyes.

it was a white oversized shirt with a cute box cartoon drawn in front of it. you tried it on and it stopped perfectly on your thighs, making it look like a cute dress. surprisingly, it even matches the pair of sneakers you were wearing.

before you can even decide whether you were keeping it on or not, onew walked into your room. his hair a bit damp and he was only wearing a towel considering that he just took a shower.

"oh, is that my shirt?" he pointed at you.

"uh... yeah. do you mind? i just wanted to wear something that is yours." you sheepishly replied.

"no problem!" he beamed his big bright smile before proceeding to get his own outfit.

you muttered a thank you then went to your vanity to finish touching up your makeup. afterward, you grabbed your phone and wallet and placed them inside your shoulder bag.

"alright, I'm ready to go..." you trailed off as you saw what he looked like. "what the hell are you wearing, lee jinki?"

"your shirt?" he raised an eyebrow, clearly feigning ignorance.

he was wearing your favorite grey t-shirt and it looked pitiful on him, it was as if it can tear at any moment. it barely covered his abdomen and was stretched to its limit.

"no shit, sherlock." you facepalmed at his usual weirdness. "what i want to know is why... why are you wearing it?"

"i thought we were doing a thing wherein we wear each other's clothes." he shrugged as if his response should be expected.

"what? no! please have mercy on my shirt and put on your own clothes." you can't help but laugh at him as you pushed him back to the dresser.

"alright, alright! i just wanted to make you laugh and look, it worked perfectly." he playfully pinched the tip of your nose before taking off the top he borrowed. "also, you should keep that shirt since it looks a hundred--no, million--times better on you."

"thanks, love," you whispered as you wrapped your arms around his waist and pulled him into a warm hug.

key / kibum:

after the long busy months, you were finally having a girl's night with your best friends. you stood in front of the full-length mirror in your room to give yourself a final check. your hair was styled into textured waves and your lips were colored with the boldest red lipstick you can find. your nude heels matched the little black dress you were wearing. your outfit looked almost perfect and you just knew what you were missing. you quickly snatched key's gold leather jacket and put it on. ah, perfection.

this was the norm for you. your boyfriend's wardrobe was beyond incredible especially his outerwear collection and you just had to wear them every chance you can get. to be honest, key was very stubborn in letting you borrow his clothes... at first. after all the compromising, begging, and crying you made, he eventually budged and gave up. of course, it does not come for free. he practically made you sign a contract that once you stained his clothes, you have to shoulder the bill of the laundry and the shop will be chosen by him. however, if you damaged or god forbid, lost his clothes, you have to replace them. you immediately said yes to all of the conditions in a heartbeat. so far you only paid for 2 incredulously expensive laundry bills.

now, you were finally ready to leave. you walked out of the bedroom and made your way down the living room. there, key was sitting on the couch watching one of his favorite tv series.

"I'll be going out now," you announced as you grab your car keys near the front door.

"hey, hey, hey!" key clicked his tongue upon seeing your clothes. he was now looking behind his shoulder and giving you a stink eye. "is that my jacket?"

"um... maybe?" you gave him an awkward smile.

"of course, it's mine." he shook his head disapprovingly. "only i can pull that off, by the way." he sassily added.

"wow, i didn't know the fashion police was here. you should have given me a head's up, babe ." you bit back with a scoff. the last time you checked, you looked damn fine in it.

"just stating facts, baby," he replied in english.

"alright, then why don't you take me shopping then? so you can buy me a new set of clothes that will satisfy your standards." you challenged and if he said yes, you were clearly the winner.

"excuse me, i do call you 'baby' but i am not your sugar daddy. go now, you'll be late." he shooed you off.

"okay bye," a playful smirk appeared on your face. "daddy."

this made key rolled his eyes before turning his back on you. he would very much rather ignore you if you keep on acting that way.

"it's bye now, for real." you giggled as you open the door. "love you!" you called out before stepping out.

"love you too, brat." key mumbled with a small smile.

minho:

winter was approaching and the air was slowly becoming colder than usual. it was the best time to stay in the comfort of your warm home and enjoy hot cocoa with your loved ones. a perfect time to wear your sweaters and hoodies indoors. however, this was not the case for minho for his favorite hoodie was missing.

"hey, babe?" he called out from the bedroom. "have you seen my black hoodie? the one with the white writings on it."

"what's that, i didn't hear you?" you went inside a few seconds later.

and there it was, his favorite hoodie being worn by his favorite person. you looked smaller while wearing it since it was way too big for you. the hem almost touched your knees and your whole arms were lost inside the sleeves. he can't help but smile at the sight.

"nothing, i was just looking for my hoodie but it looks like i found it." he gestured at the clothes you were wearing.

"oh, shoot. sorry, i didn't tell you that i borrowed it." you hit your forehead with your palm.

"it's okay. you're free to use them anytime, anyway." he patted the top of your head.

within the last few weeks, minho noticed that you sometimes wear his clothes. it was not a daily thing though and you even asked for his permission. slowly, it became every day and he would just be surprised to see you walking around the house parading his jackets and sweaters. he didn't mind it though, he was just curious about what you do to your own clothing. also, he hoped that he still had some remaining tops for himself during the cold season.

well, guess luck was not on his side.

his eyes were staring at his closet wherein there was only one jacket left, one. you followed his gaze and you promptly felt the warmth raised to your cheeks. you were surely red from embarrassment now. you were happily wearing his clothes that you didn't have the time to count how much was left.

"oh my god, i'm sorry! i didn't--" you cut yourself off as you watched him put on the lone jacket from his dresser. "i'm sorry, i didn't notice it. i just... can't help myself. your jackets are so comfortable and warm compare to mine." you tried to explain yourself. also not to mention that they all smelled just like him.

"don't worry about it." he reassured you as he placed his arm around your shoulder. "just be mindful next time. i might end up half-naked someday, you know."

"how can you be so sure that's not my goal?" you teased before sticking your tongue out.

he laughed at your silliness and then pressed a soft kiss on your warm forehead. you decided to make a cup of hot cocoa for him as a peace offering.

taemin:

it was past midnight and it was raining cats and dogs outside. you visited taemin in his apartment for a stay-at-home dinner date but a storm came before you can even go back home. taemin then convinced you to spend the night there instead. it was not a big deal anyway since you stayed over a lot of times already. you just didn't bring your sleepover bag with you and the dress you were wearing was definitely not comfortable to sleep on.

your caring boyfriend of course promised to ease your worries. the two of you shared a warm bath after dinner and he lent you his clothes for you to change to. so that was how you ended up on his couch, fighting off sleep because the show you both were watching always had a cliffhanger ending per episode. you two needed some answers before you can drift off to sleep peacefully. it was the weekend tomorrow anyway so staying up late won't hurt that much.

your head was laying on his lap while his right hand was playing on the locks of your hair and his left one was comfortably resting on the top of your hip. his hand would occasionally rub circles on the exposed skin. as much as you hate to move from your cozy spot, you had to or else you might end up dozing off right there and then. not to mention, him playing on your hair does not help at all.

you slowly got up from the sofa as you tried to stifled a yawn. "i'll just go get some cold drink." you pushed yourself up from your seat.

you then raised your arms and stretched with a satisfied groan. your shoulders and back were sore after laying down for more or less 3 hours. you can even hear your joints cracking from stretching out. also, you felt the shirt you were wearing raised up.

taemin's shirts were not overly huge for you whenever you wore them. the hem barely covered your behind and right now you were sure that a tiny portion of your buttcheeks was peeking through the white tee. you weren't conscious about it, taemin saw much more than that anyway.

suddenly, you felt a slap across your behind which made you freeze on your spot. you looked behind and saw your boyfriend confidently leaning on the couch with his legs crossed.

"did you just slap my butt?" you inquired.

"uh-huh," he nodded with a cocky grin. "want me to spank you again?"

you frowned a little as you processed the sudden change of mood. taemin won't deny it though, seeing you in his shirts always made his heart skip a bit and his breathing ragged. you always looked effortlessly sexy in them.

"sure, why not?" you replied wickedly after a few seconds of silence.

taemin processed your answer in a split second and he hastily grabbed you by the waist and threw you on his broad shoulders. he did not forget you give you another smack on the ass when he made his way toward the bedroom, the television was completely forgotten.

[razorblade180]

More Actor AU

The previous one <-

Ruby:Justice will be swift! Justice will be painful- *pie to the face* Ahhhh! Nora!

Nora:HAHAHAHAHA! I couldn’t resist!

xxxx

Yang:Do you think she thinks less of me?

Jaune:You and Ruby are sisters. You may fight but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t care.

Yang:Yeah, Ruby...

Jaune:.....Wait are you talking about Blake?

Yang:*caught of guard* Uhhhhh

Jaune:Because why would she think less of you for choosing to act like a first responder?

.......

Ren:*outside* He has a point!

Director:Stick to the script!

xxxx

Raven:Does she have it?

Qrow:You’re going to have be a little bit more specific.

Raven:*slams hand and leans* Does. Salem. Have. The Tape?

Qrow:Tape?

Raven:Yeah the sex tape, it was in the vault.

Qrow:Whaaat? Who’s on it?

Raven:*smirks* Who isn’t on it?

Qrow:Oh shit....*downs whiskey* Tai is gonna kill me!

xxxxx

Apathy:*roaming*

Ruby:Quick, the door!

Weiss:*shakes it* They’re locked!

Yang:Let me-*trips up stairs* agh! My face!

Weiss:Yang! *snickering* Oh gods, are...are you okay?

Yang:Uuuuugggghh. Imma just lie here. Guess we die. *raise head*

Weiss:Uh oh, bloody nose. Time out.

Apathy:*shuffling backwards*

Blake:*on the ground* Imagine, asking grimm just to leave?

xxxxx

Nora:Psst camera man. Pan to Penny.

Penny:*getting make up done* Yo!

Nora:Ready to die a second time!?

Penny:Hell yeah! Gonna make the people cry twice! *puts in red contacts*

xxxxx

Cinder:*chokes Raven* I’m taking what’s mine.

Raven:Last time I checked your name isn’t Tai. So get your hands off my throat. *looks off set*

Tai:*face palming*

Yang:*red* Mom!!

Raven:Someone was thinking it.

xxxxx

Fiona:*reading lines*

Robyn:She’s very focused right now. I think she’s nervous. *grabs megaphone* Cameras go live in five minutes.

Fiona:*tearing up*

Robyn:No wait! I was lying! Please dry those tears!

Fiona:Stop stressing me out! I’m new here.

Robyn:*hugging her* Ssssshhh I’ll rehearse with you.

xxxxx

[Volume 3]

Blake:*getting first aid*

Adam:*staring at camera* Funny thing about Blake Belladonna, she hates reshoots.

Blake:Do not...

Adam:She hates them so much in fact that she’ll do whatever it takes make the first take an absolute masterpiece. Blake Belladonna however also does about half of her stunts. Good stunts too. All those flips and hand to hand, that’s just her being cool. *puts hands together* I’ve worked with her since day one. I’m in most of those actions scenes. So let me tell how insane this girl is.

Blake:Oh geez...

Adam:Ten minute ago, we’re just shooting the scene where her character and my character are fighting. The plan was I “backhand” her and she falls on the ground. Now we’re not perfect. We’ve accidentally grazed each other before. But when I tell you Blake literally just sat there and watched as my hand swung at her....

Blake:Man, I don’t know what happened! *snorting* I knew it was coming, but then the next minute I had no time to go with it.

Adam:Now normally, a sane person would yell cut, but not Blake. I’m looking at her shocked as she’s staring back mouthing “roll with it.” And against judgment, I did.

Blake:It doesn’t get more authentic than that! Plus it only stung.

Yang:Until we finished the scene! We look at you and this red mark is appearing and you’re like “yeah, Adam knocked the hell out of me.”

Adam:And now I feel bad!

Blake:Nah man, perfect scene. Way to improvise.

Yang:Blake Belladonna everyone.

xxxx

Fennec: *dies*

Corsac: Corsac no!!!

Ilia:Wait, your Corsac.

Corsac:Shit, really? Damn, read the long lines all volume.

Ilia:W..wait...*smiling* d..did switch roles? Has no caught that?

Blake:N...no? *looks around* We didn’t right?

Sun:*containg laughter* Please...please tell me we haven’t mixed the roles all season? You audition for...?

Corsec:Fennec. I’m playing Fennec right? *snickering*

Blake:I...uh..how’d we-

Corsec:I’m just fucking with you.

Blake:Oh my god! Dude, I thought we messed up so much shit! My heart!

Crew:*laughing*

Blake:Y’all are jerks. I type the credits don’t scare me like that!

xxxxx

Ghira:*tears cloak off*

Tyrian and Salem: Dayuuuuuum! Look at that man!

Ghira:Pfft, god damn it. You ruined my roar! Hahaha.

xxxxx

Director:Alright Jaune. So in this scene you punch the wall because you just learned about Salem being immortal. Remember to hit hard enough get a good bang for the mic, but we don’t want you breaking your hand or anything.

Jaune:Got it!

Director:And action!

Jaune:*cracks wall*

Everyone:......

Jaune:......

Nora:Welp, he didn’t say anything about breaking the wall.

xxxxxx

Cinder:*holding sister* Diva in the building yall. Introducing mini me.

Ember:I get paid!

Cinder:Yeah you do!

Everyone:(The resemblance is uncanny.)

xxxxxx

Interviewer: Has it feel to work with distinguished talents like Tyrian.

Mercury:There isn’t a moment that man lets me rest. I could have one scene and that guy is offset staring at me and shimming or wearing a prop just throw me off-he’s doing it now! *smiles*

Tyrian:*in Salem’s costume* I don’t know what you mean Mercury? Are you...*props leg up* distracted?

Mercury:Serious doesn’t exist with that man on set.

xxxxx

Interview:Adam, how’s it feel to be the most hated character.

Adam:It’s hilarious. I go the store to get a coffee and the cashier is doing a double take as they stare at me wearing a shirt with Pumpkin Pete on it. Before they process who I am exactly I’m just like, “please tell me you have pumpkin spice?” And their perception is ruined immediately.

Interviewer:Ever get hate at events.

Adam:Oh it’s a game now! Not by my choice. This was Yang’s idea.

Yang:*pokes in* Y’all talking about the game where I make people upset? *sits in his lap* excuse me.

Adam:Against my will...*snickers* anytime I go to a convention with Yang, she enters the room from the opposite door and let the people gather to her while haters gather to me.

Yang:By the time I reach him I see about a dozen people glaring at him while my fans are following me until I get where I need to go. Right before I do, I walk up to Adam as if I didn’t know he’d be there, then jump into his arms happily. Everyone shuts up. They don’t know how to cope.

Adam:That’s with almost any hero in this show. I’m minding my own business and then they cling to me for shock value. Yang and Blake are the worst though.

Yang:I’ve sat in his lap like I am now at a Q&A before because people booed when he showed up. The beef isn’t real people! My arm is fine!

xxxxx

Jaune:*staring at Pyrrha’s statue*.....

*foot steps approach*

Jaune:*looks left* !?

Pyrrha:*holding flowers* A tragedy, this person’s death. You knew them?

Jaune:I...y...no. Just heard of her.

Pyrrha:Really? Cool. Reall strong person. Her people were heartbroken when she chose Beacon. But it was the place she dreamed of. Ashamed she died. Gone, never to be seen.

Jaune:She may be gone, but I know she had no regrets. Pyrrha was a huntress through and through, and I believe she fought like one until the end.

Pyrrha:*nods* Yeah, I think so too. *containg joy*

.........

Pyrrha:This isn’t the real scene by the way.

Jaune:I was about to say! Like, what the hell is happening!? I read the script and missed this part!

Pyrrha:Hahahaha! Good improvising. *claps* way to roll with the nonsense. I can’t believe you said no though! That’s how you get haunted.

Jaune:*laughing* I thought I was! Ghost Pyrrha walking with flowers saying “oh you know her?” I thought I did until you showed up!

Ren:We just shoot random scenes of you talking to Pyrrha and never address it. Jaune is just crazy now.

Pyrrha:I’m down for that!

Director:No! Well....no! Stop trying to get more lines!

Pyrrha:Awww.

xxxxxx

Ozpin:You know originally I brought my kid here so we can bond and he was like “awesome!”

Cameraman pans over to Oscar and Penny sitting on a bench eating together, laughing.

Ozpin:*smirking* I was played, but I respect it.

xxxxxx

[Volume 6]

Jaune:*walks up to Ruby* Promise that you’ll meet us there.

Ruby:I promise. *smiles*

..... *both lean in*

Ruby:......*kisses him*

Everyone:!?!?

Nora:Woah! Cut!

Ruby:Huh? What’s up?

Nora:There’s no kiss!

Ruby:Really? Feels like a kiss should be here. Huh, my bad. Thought it was written in.

xxxxxx

Ruby:*posed up in chair* They had to cut out me kissing Jaune. That’s fine, still kissed him.

xxxxxx

Nora:All I’m saying is maybe I should get a kiss with him.

Director:Nora, just ask him out on your own time.

Nora:Pffft what? Me, into Jaune? No..... I just think it would make good narrative sense.

Director:How!?

Nora:......*walks away* It just would!

[bcdwhcre]

Could you do a sad reiner x reader fanfic? Like the reader finds out reiner is a titan shifter but they both fell in love with each other so now reiner has to make a hard decision

“Decisions,” Reiner x Reader

Summary: having a romantic relationship with Reiner, you found out that he’s a Titan shifter which led to him having to make hard decisions.

Warnings: none just season 2-3 Reiner

pls don’t comment any spoilers or any of that for the sake of me and other people. Ty❤️

.

.

.

Your eyes had grown wide, watching the bright light shining around Reiner and suddenly a Titan stood in front of you on the wall.

You didn’t want to believe what you were seeing, you wish you could pinch yourself and wake up but this was a harsh reality you were coming face to face with.

-

You had met Reiner during the training corps and instantly you two had clicked and became great friends. You two had a lot in common, the pain and the suffering you both went through- it had only brought you close.

It wasn’t long after you two joined the scouts that you both have been spending more time together. He had helped you with training late at night and helped you when you felt at your lowest.

He picked you up with ease and was quick to make you smile and that’s when everything had suddenly fell into place.

You had randomly kissed him after a late night of him helping you train better, helping you become more good on defending yourself. The whole time you had desperately wanted to tell him about your feelings, tell him that you were in love with him and instead of using words, you used actions and quickly pressed your lips on his.

He had gladly accepted the kiss, the way his heart would race every time he would see you and the way you always made him full and happy- you made him completely forget about his mission at times.

But as he laid in bed, you tucked beside, it had made his heart break. The pain he was putting you through without you realizing it was hard for him to deal with.

He knew deep down he would have to leave you soon once the mission is successful but he didn’t want to leave you, he wanted to take you with him. Was that even a possibility?

His eyes had stared at you, the way you peacefully slept with your arm hung over his stomach and the way half of your face was squished against his left side- he loved you deeply.

Nights would pass by and he would be in bed, wide awake, watching you sleep as the guilt weighed heavier and heavier on his chest.

His fingers would brush through your hair as he tried to savor each moment with you, knowing eventually he probably won’t see you ever again.

One day in particular, he stood outside and even tried to convince Bertholdt to take you with him, he didn’t want to leave you but you were no more than a human. You wouldn’t last.

“We can’t take her, Reiner! I’m sorry.” Bertholdt had tried to knock it in his skull that he would have to leave his lover here all alone.

“I just can’t leave her, I don’t think I’ll be the same if I do.”

“We didn’t come here to fall in love and have a perfect happily ever after. We’re here for one thing and you need to set your priorities straight before you end up getting her killed. She’s better off alive here.” Bertholdt was furious, the way his best friend had the nerve to fall in love with you, it was sickening.

But Reiner had continued to think and think and think, all about whether he was prepared to leave you behind or risk taking you with him. He needed you, desperately.

After thinking, he had decided to write you a letter. A long one at that, just incase he wasn’t able to tell you or see you again. He wanted it to be meaningful, he wanted you to remember the fact that he was so in love with you and never wanted to hurt you.

When he finished up the letter, he made sure to tuck it somewhere safe until it was ready to be left for you.

-

Now the time had come and Eren had called him out, it was hard for him to look at you. This wasn’t the time he wanted to shift, this wasn’t the time he wanted to snatch Eren up and leave but it was rushed.

The way Bertholdt had shifted, sending you flying back trying to hold on to the wall but Reiner was quick to catch you after he shifted, the way his heart had constantly ripped apart as the look of terror on your face as you watched him pick you up.

“Reiner?!” You screamed up at him, you didn’t want to believe it, you didn’t want to accept the fact your boyfriend was a Titan shifter.

He had set you down to safety, not being able to hold back the tears as they both had fought and ended up running off with Eren and Ymir. You were left speechless, the way he had ripped your heart out and left running with it, it was too much to handle.

When the scouts had made it back to the base, you locking yourself in the room you two would occasionally share- you had finally let your weak sobs fall from your lips.

You sat on the floor for hours, crying into your hands and the aching feeling of emptiness and betrayal had lingered over you like a dark rainy cloud.

After you managed to get up, you had decided to grab his things and the urge to throw it away was edging you on but you stopped when you threw his coat and a envelope had fallen out, your name beautifully written on the top.

Y/N,

I hate for the time you’ll have to read this letter but it might be for the best, it all depends on my decision whether or not I want to leave you alone here or take you with me.

The first day I laid my eyes on you, you were like a beautiful ray of sunshine that shined down on my sad pathetic life. The way I had fallen in love with you so easily was intoxicating. I’m so addicted to you, your touch and your love.

You’re my weakness.

I hate for our relationship to end because of this stupid mission I’m doing. I would hate to leave you all alone and I don’t want you to feel as if I betrayed you because it’s the exact opposite.

All my feelings and love for you are more than real. I want to marry you, live a happy long life with you. I want all of that but as a Titan shifter, it’s not that easy- I don’t have a lot of years left on my clock.

I hope you can forgive me for what I’ve done and what I continue to do. You’ll forever be on my mind and in my heart. I will never forget you and one day I hope to be back in your arms.

I wish you nothing but love and happiness.

Love, Reiner.

Your tears had managed to come out again, reading the small letter and tucking it back in the envelope before hiding it under your pillow.

The emptiness you felt was indescribable, you were in pain and you couldn’t help but lay in the bed with his coat and sobbed again.

You wanted him here, as bad as that sounded- you wanted Reiner here. You wanted to hold him and love and accept him for who he is but you knew he was gone.

Deep down you wish he had taken you with him, it was horrible to think about. He’s a traitor, he’s a Titan, you shouldn’t want him anywhere near you but the love you had for him was so beyond more than anyone could know.

You just wanted him.

.

.

.

Painnnnnn

• Main Masterlist •

• AOT Masterlist •

[papers4me]

Fruits Basket Manga Review , ch 112 & 113 (part 2)

I hate that this chapter is cut... mainly cuz it deals with the most “ horribly presented” theme in furuba anime.... grief.

-The shame of grieving: “ Rarely discussed theme in Literature”:

When a love one dies... ppl differ in how they deal with it. Some cry their hearts out, some become depressed & painfully lonely, others get angry or cynical, some might deny it, some move on quickly, others move on but years after the realization crushes them, others stay still... Above all, you feel ashamed of yourself if you didn’t move on or if you DID move on.. “ Sometimes ppl around you judge you for it... for your grief”

The later is the theme of these two chapters. Rarely discussed themes & it saddens me that it is cut. You see, Furuba anime doesn’t get grief  at all. To them, it’s a small part of the generic protagonist after she finishes her job of nurturing the real main protagonist. Mothers are strong, they help us cross the bridge between childhood & adulthood. Tohru, the show’s mom, did it so thoroughly & in slow visual & narrative details for yuki. Afterwards, the anime brushed whatever is left of her character, which the anime viewed as sheer suspenseful drama, & collected it thro 3rd person story-telling techniques in one ep “ se3, ep6″ & excessive monologue for 10 minutes in se3, ep9.

In this chapter, Kakeru, a side character, sheds light into this theme. Kakeru didn’t lose a parent by death, didn’t grieve, has no dependent familial bonds with either dead parents “ kyoko & komaki’s dad”. Yet, kakeru stood & judged tohru on how she “ should” grieve. Harshly tearing her down while she’s standing there lonely, trying to hide her shock at the loss of her only pillar in life, broken & traumatized, dealing with the pushed down traumatic feelings from her past where her mom abandoned her as a child..now her mom did it again, this time thro death.. & kakeru, rightfully not knowing all that, but wrongfully lecturing her on how to behave... kakeru isn’t a monster, but he only saw what he wanted: komaki & how the world should grieve with his lover, how he should be the hero protecting her. So self-centered, insensitive, horribly cruel & unbelievably conceited, but above all... what he did is so sadly common... it hurts.

-Judging Grieving People:

As I said many times.. grief is so personal, so unique to the person & as common as it is, so misunderstood. According to kakeru & many ppl I’ve sopken to lately, tohru should have acknowledged komaki. Komaki, the not-traumatized version of tohru, did the right “ tohru-like” thing. Not only felt sadness at the loss of her own dad, but found it in her heart to visit the other orphan, tohru, & give condolences & respect to the dead mother. Such kindness & purity. Very deserving of applaud: To not only see your pain but others’ as well. Tohru has always done the “ right, kind” thing to other ppl. When she can’t now, the author brought another “ tohru” to do the “ right, kind” thing.

Kakeru is so many ppl. During my brother’s funeral. I’ve heard so many gossip on how my mom should’ve stood tall & greeted the visitors.” Being silent , emotionless & non-responsive is not how you show visitors you value their kind words”, they said. How his widow should’ve collected herself & acted properly, respected his memory by taking proper care of herself & her kids. “Being a broken mess is not how you “ honor” loved one”, they said. Kakeru is indeed many ppl & that’s how you discuss a theme by creating characters who sin, screw up & be cruel, even if momentarily.

Kakeru is wrong. There is no “ you should have” in grief. There is no ounce of truth in his demeaning lecture to tohru & I respect komaki for her reaction to him so much. Kakeru did learn & grew from it, apologized to tohru even if he didn’t actually sought her to do so & even if she herself started the apology. But you see, these two chapters are 90% focused on kakeru as a character, his growth, thoughts, the mini focus on his relationship with komaki as an example of healthy relationship & all that is another lesson for yuki to observe & learn. He learned abt tohru’s past, kakeru’s personality & growth & got to observe another example of romantic relationship so yuki can grow as a man & approach machi healthily. But then again... nothing at all stops yuki/machi from being healthy, no past issues, no contradicting personalities “ they’re quite similar” & yuki is the only furuba character that doesn’t screw up big. He learns & teaches. He’s the personification of the author.

-Tohru.. stays a “ tohru”:

Tohru’s part is 10% of the this chapter which is fine as I think/hope it will lead into more tohru depth in the following chapters. But It is for this reason I’m glad this chapter was cut in the 13 eps season of furuba anime, cuz tohru doesnt have much depth in the anime due to the quick wrap up & the la~~~~st  thing I want is another 3rd person story-telling flashback abt tohru in the anime. Honestly, one of the most frustrating aspect to me of the anime & I’ll hold judgement abt manga- tohru till I reach its end. So far~~~ Tohru’s depth & character exploration gets better one chapter, then regress the next one, then moves on, the... it’s a fluctuating process. It has nothing to do with tohtu’s feelings.

you’ see ... kyo himself as a character with issues fluctuates a lot, he does sth good, then does sth bad, chooses right words, then makes a horrible mistake & chooses wrong! which is one of the most well-done aspects of character exploration that is rarely attempted by authors! I highly respect Takaya-san for what she’s doing with kyo in the manga so far. Other authors show us a character doing one big mistake & then he/she learns from it in a dramatic way. But Takaya-san, nope! she decided to approach it in a very human way, making us be frustrated with kyo’s repeated mistakes yet understands where he’s coming from! kudos to her!!

But I’m not yet satisfied with how tohru is portrayed in the manga & this has nothing to do with tohru’s character. Takaya-san is discussing rare themes thro tohru’s character. But what I mean is how tohru is approached thro the viewers/readers eyes. I wont judge until the last chapter. but this is the part that is frustrating to me.

Side Notes:

The flow of the 2 chapters is little off. We go back & forth between the past & the present, between yuki-machi & komaki-kakeru. Again, I’m so glad the anime cut it cuz, nope! they can’t handle such narrative. they’ll reorder it in a such heavily monologing way & insert the comedy abruptly to lighten the mood. Just look at how the comedy is inserted in momiji’s se03 ep!

Komaki is such a tohru with a sprinkle of kagura’s very softened outbursts. lol. she’s fun!

I’m liking yuki-machi interactions a lot. no drama, which is why the anime cut it -_-’, but it progresses healthily. Machi is yuki’s third-stage growth after (1) leaving tohru’s nest (baby yuki), (b) making friends with kakeru/someone who gets him (young boy yuki), (3) finding romantic love (being a man). The anime was so interested in the 2 stages above cuz that’s where the drama is & cut the third. Honestly, the anime didn’t have to include everything as there is never a space in 13 eps, but they certainly could’ve squeezed few panels or even made brand new very short yuki-machi scenes. but the anime weirdly decided after yuki “ saved” machi from her trauma by talking with her in her apartment, he should just marry her.... lol.. that’s why next scene is ep 5 momiji’s ep intro montage where yuki was abt to confess!!! making yuki-machi the least developed couple in the anime!

I love all furuba’s characters, but yuki, tohru, kyo & akito carry the big themes, therefore, I not only analyze their characters, but how the themes are presented thro them & how their presentation affects such themes. This might make it sound as I hate them or am harsh on them. not at all. It is the anime director/ manga author that I’m positively or negatively criticizing most times. Most importantly, my criticism is not the law. It’s just my perspective & my consumption of the material. Feel free to differ with me. I dont mind it. It brings interesting discussions!

When it comes to tohru’s issues... his chapter introduced nothing new. We have seen/read in canon repeatedly that tohru hides her pain behind a smile (heck! even kisa knows that & told us), that she cant stand up for herself much, that she smiles for other ppl not for herself. All this was presented thro so many characters already, which is why I understand the anime’s decision to cut it. What’s new? that yuki didn know tohru’s smile is mostly a mask & that kakleru has depth.

I love this chapter for the grieving themes it discussed that are rarely touched upon in literature, but since such themes are rarely presented, the anime’s decision to cut it, ironically proves my point! lol . They don’t get grief & so, they reduced it to se03 content & two eps worth. sad.. but expected. The anime is indeed another form of “past” kakeru: seeing one side of grieving person. The happy side.

[universalistotalis]

Chance

Hinata Shoyo (Timeskip!) x Female Reader

Masterlist!

You might as well just shit in your pants.

Of all the times that the gods decided to play with your life, why did it have to be now? WHY THE FUCK?!

This day was supposed to be a lazy day since it’s a rare break from work. It was supposed to be a relaxed grocery shopping and a relaxed trip back home with the face masks and candles and snacks that you bought. But NO! The universe had other plans!

You closed your eyes and looked up as your fingers grabbed the door handle leading to the passenger seat of his car. You sighed for the nth time since meeting with those striking eyes that you’ve missed so much and after a couple of seconds, you decided to open the car and let yourself in.

What's the worst that could happen right?!

The interior of the car was sleek and the welcoming scent was of fresh pine with a hint of him. You ignored the erratic beating of your heart as you reached for the seatbelt to secure yourself in.

“All set, y/n?” Hinata asked and the engine roared to life.

“Yep.” You smiled and nodded, just looking straight ahead.

“Lead the way, alright?” He said with a gentle voice and you both zoom to the highway.

“Y/n… Can I talk to you for a moment?” You were faced with a blushing Hinata Shoyo, fresh from the win of another game. Maybe it was the adrenaline that still pumped in his veins or maybe it was the certainty of his feelings for you after so many years of admiration. But one thing was for sure…

He knew he had to tell you.

“Sure, Shoyo!” You said cheerfully, pride radiating from your figure as the volleyball team that you’ve been an assistant of, won the match of the season! That’ll secure them a spot in the olympics! Yes, being the volleyball assistant of the National Team was a job that you never thought you’d be in but then you enjoyed the duties, the thrill, the environment… mostly everything about it.

His strong hands wrapped around your wrist and led you to the locker room where there were no eyes scorching your every move. Hinata wanted to have the privacy that you both needed for his confession.

You were beginning to worry about his lack of cheerful outbursts after the win. Usually, he’d be jumping with his team mates and screaming at the top of his lungs but now… he was quiet as the wind. You have come to know all his moves too well over years of friendship. Actually, you consider him as one of your best friends since he often is the first person that you think of sharing your stories to. (Okay, fine a little bit more than a friend but he didn't need to know.)

“H-hey, Shoyo. Are you alright?” You asked, your steps faltering on the hallway near the locker room. “Is there something wrong? You’re not like your usual self.”

He turned around to face you slowly. His usual straightened back was slightly hunching and his other hand grabbed his nape for scratching. And you knew in that moment, that he was nervous. But for what?

You saw his adam’s apple bob up and down his throat before your eyes landed on his. A breath hitches and before you know it, he was centimeters away from your face.

Surely it’s a dream right? The guy that you’ve been crushing on, ever since the day that you laid your eyes on him, was merely staring at your lips and tightening his grip on your wrists.

“Shoyo…” You whispered, still in a daze of the situation.

His damned eyes looked up to yours and it filled with the warmth that you were so used to seeing. It was the same pair of eyes that silently comforted you when your day had been exhaustingly slow. It was the same ones that silently pushed you to move forward when you felt the world was against you. It was him beside you, all those excruciating but unforgettable years.

His laugh sliced through the silence and the tension between the both of you and he caught your cheeks in his hands. Your own laughter bubbled in your chest as his was contagious.

“I have no idea if what I’m doing is right but I need you to know…” He took a deep breath, reddening at his words. “I like you, y/n. I really really really REALLY like you.”

“You can stop here.” You whispered at the quiet humming of the radio. “I’ll just take a bus from here.”

“I can take you to where you live, no problem.” He whispered back.

It was mostly 20? 30? You don’t know how many minutes you were in his car but you knew you had to get out.

“Hinata…”

“You used to call me Shoyo.” He deadpanned, purposely going faster when he passed the bus stop you were referring to. “You used to tell me everything. You used to be my best friend. And you said you liked me back…”

You looked away at his face that was glazed and clearly stuck in the past as you were.

“So why’d you leave?” You didn’t mistake the pain in his voice because as you looked back on his side profile, he had a look of genuine agony.

You were shocked at his revelation. He was Hinata Shoyo. The worldwide volleyball sensation who everybody loved and idolized. The man haunting you everywhere because of countless billboards and posters. You didn’t dare believe that he would be caught up with someone like you.

Your eyes just stared at his figure at the driver’s seat. Thoughts flooding your mind of the things to say yet still say nothing.

You wanted to tell him that YES, you were still hopelessly in love with him. And that YES, you tried to date other guys but they weren’t as genuine and passionate as he was. And that YES, you regretted leaving without any trace, without any goodbyes. He was one of the most important persons in your life and you made it look like he was trash, disposed like he was nothing.

But then you also wanted to tell him that you’re scared of a relationship. You’re scared to not be enough for him. You're scared when you heard people talk when you held hands in public. You’re scared of being left alone. And so you decided it was better to be alone.

“There, just by the flowerbed.” You pointed stiffly as he maneuvered his automobile to the front of your house.

He helped you get your groceries from his trunk like the real gentleman that he is but the silence was definitely deafening both your ears.

But Shoyo knew better than to push you for answers. He was the only one stuck on the maybe’s of the two of you. Perhaps, it was just pure luck that he found you in that grocery store. Perhaps, the universe was playing a prank on him to stab the knife a little deeper.

“Thanks for the ride.” He heard your sweet voice and replied with a smile that would hopefully look happy to you. He was nowhere near happy now, just full- on frustrated with himself, with the world, with the—

“Shoyo.” You called.

His entire body froze at the way you said his name.

“I have no idea if what I’m doing is right but I need you to know…” His head snapped so fast at your words… the very same ones he said when he confessed. “I like you Shoyo. I still do.”

Tears were brimming your eyes now. “I let fear control me and blind me. I chickened out when I heard comments about us. I was so scared that I wouldn’t be enough for you. I was so scared that you’ll eventually leave. So scared of how much I loved you that it would break me to lose you. You’re the best-est friend I could ever ask for and I’m so sorry if I ran away like that.”

“HOLD ON.” He held his hand in air. “You said LOVED. Y-you love me?”

A surprised giggle left your mouth. Of all the things you said!

“I do.” You nodded, still amused by his child- like reaction. “I do, Shoyo. I understand if you don’t feel the same way and if you want this to be the last time we see each other but… if you would give me another chance… I won’t let that fear lead the way and I promise to love you with my whole heart.”

With your statement, he closed the distance between the two of you and caged your head in a kiss. He wanted to cry at the contact because he just missed you so much!

"You don't have to be scared of anything or anyone, alright? I'll protect you from now on."

Hinata Shoyo made so many rash and bad decisions. But he also made good ones. And the best one he did, was to give you your chance that day. Now, he knows what true love really is like.

--

I keep making them longer than intended! Hahaha anw, have you been tuning in to the olympics lately? I'm cheering hard for the Japan Volleyball Team and I hope to god they win!

Reblogs are appreciateeeed! <3

[permanentcrossfics]

Blurred Lines: A Different Christmas // h.s.

How do we write Christmas fics in a really weird year? I’m still not sure, but I tried to string together a bit of relief for the end of December. I’m shutting myself up now, even though there’s lots I want to say. This is for anyone who wants it, anyone who needs it, anyone who enjoys it (or hates it!) silently and vocally alike. My Christmas gift is the happy and unexpected bonus of anyone reading what I have so much selfish fun thinking of and spinning out. Happy and Merry Christmas if you celebrate it, and a happy and merry end of December if you don’t and are just doing you! x

9.1k

It was the big Christmas tree you’d dragged back home by yourself on top of a rickety shopping cart all the way from a place on Second Avenue that had been your breaking point. Picking it had its own bittersweet undertones, but the smell of fresh pine tickling your nose even through a mask had kept you afloat as you struggled to get it off and onto curbs before traffic pancaked you in the middle of the road. It wasn’t until you were back inside, still wrapped in your coat and struggling to get it upright in the stand the correct way that you burst into a torrent of hot, selfish tears and bowed your head, kneeling next to the mass of needles and branches. He should be here! He should be helping you. He should’ve helped anchor lights in windows, he should’ve had an opinion on the scented candles, he should’ve made you go back for decorations you just weren’t sure of because you wanted them regardless of what he thought, and he should’ve helped pick, and carry, and set up the tree. The whole reason you’d gone out to get a fresh tree – something real in a year that had felt anything but – was to lift your spirits, but instead you were sobbing next to it and it all felt a little dramatically pointless. It was everything you’d avoided last year by flying off to England but that you couldn’t escape this time. What was the point? What was the point of pretending?

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“You coming home with me this year?” 

Again. He asked the same question you’ve been dodging for weeks since plans had started to look uncertain again, not because he was pestering you, but because somehow, some way, you were both hoping for an answer with a loophole. 

“I can’t,” you said softly, regretfully, holding your phone close to your face with one arm as you curled up under the duvet of a bed in an apartment that had somehow become yours together instead of his alone throughout the course of a very new, very different, very unsettling year. “For a few reasons.” 

And he knew that. 

Harry’s deep breath crackled and he dragged his hand down his face, holding it there as he shook his head, the thought processes you’d learned to read so well hidden from view. 

You’d liked going home with him last year -- loved it, even. You’d hardly had time to look forward to a repeat when the world had flipped in the first quarter or sooner, and the sand had just kept slipping through the hourglass until all time for hope of a new and normal Christmas was gone and sucked away into the void of the year. 

So many plans. So many memories that lived only as memories of daydreams now. So much else, so much more important, devastating, and tragic you couldn’t even put it into words and, frankly, didn’t want to. Not now -- you spent too much time thinking about it to think about it now, too.

“Filming’s done soon,” he said from behind his hand. “I can book my flight to New York--”

“Harry--”

“And then go to Manchester after Christmas -- after the New Year, we always take a bit of a longer break. Mum won’t mind--”

“Your mother’s barely seen you since last Christmas,” you said. “Your sister, too, and there’s not enough time to--”

“Course there is!”

“Two weeks quarantine in each?” you asked. “That’s a month of staying put, let alone--”

A split second glance at his face was all you saw before the screen went black and you bit your tongue. He hadn’t hung up, because you’d heard the soft thud when his phone collided with his chest, and you could hear him breathing now, so you waited, suppressing your own urge to snap as he had his. Despite having spent the better part of the year together, it was frustrating to think about not being together for the season. All you wanted was him, though you knew better than to voice it out loud. He’d do it -- for you, he’d do it if you asked him to -- and you’d have to live with the guilt of taking him away from his family at the time of year where family should be together most, if it mattered to them. And you’d been weirdly lucky enough to have him most of the year between carefully navigated business trips. He was only one man with one body. It didn’t -- couldn’t -- matter that you wanted him, too. 

That you wanted to be with the man you loved. 

When he picked up the phone again, his face was drawn, tired, and not just from filming, you suspected. 

“Go home,” you urged, swallowing the break in your voice. “You miss home, and home misses you. I’ll have fun decorating and send you all the pictures you won’t be able to do anything about.” 

His throat bobbed hard, audibly, and his eyes looked dangerously shiny. 

“Next year I’ll go home with you,” you said, burrowing half your face into your pillow. “London and Holmes Chapel both.”

“Next year,” he said eventually, voice raspy. “We’ll have Christmas at home next year.” 

You nodded, forcing the lump rising up, up, and up back down. “You should go to sleep,” you said. “It’s late and you have to be up early.”

“Later for you,” he said and you sighed, noting the 3:08 timestamp at the top of your screen. 

“Let’s go,” you said. “Call me when you can.” 

“I will.” Sad, but resigned. You wanted to reach through the screen and touch the downturned corners of his mouth to push them back upright again. “Sleep well, and I love you.” 

Taking a deep breath, you murmured, “I love you, too,” before hanging up the call and the room descended into darkness and you into a fitful sleep. 

***

At first, you were determined to make the most of it. Your studio had always been small, cozy, and Christmasy to the best of your abilities, but his -- your -- apartment had so many more possibilities. Candles were the first to be set out, with strategic clusters of red, green, and gold-colored wax placed all about and nestled in fake holly wreaths. String lights that cast a pretty glow lined windows even in the bedroom for some last minute holiday cheer, and despite the urge to drive him up a wall, you did your best to only pick out other decorations that you’d both like and want to use in the future. Because as much as you might avoid talking about it in many certain terms the longer the relationship went on (it still felt so funny to think that a one night stand had turned into a relationship), there was a future. He was your future. It wasn’t your first Christmas together, but it might be your last one apart. 

It was the big Christmas tree you’d dragged back home by yourself on top of a rickety shopping cart all the way from a place on Second Avenue that had been your breaking point. Picking it had its own bittersweet undertones, but the smell of fresh pine tickling your nose even through a mask had kept you afloat as you struggled to get it off and onto curbs before traffic pancaked you in the middle of the road. It wasn’t until you were back inside, still wrapped in your coat and struggling to get it upright in the stand the correct way that you burst into a torrent of hot, selfish tears and bowed your head, kneeling next to the mass of needles and branches. 

He should be here! He should be helping you. He should’ve helped anchor lights in windows, he should’ve had an opinion on the scented candles, he should’ve made you go back for decorations you just weren’t sure of because you wanted them regardless of what he thought, and he should’ve helped pick, and carry, and set up the tree. The whole reason you’d gone out to get a fresh tree -- something real in a year that had felt anything but -- was to lift your spirits, but instead you were sobbing next to it and it all felt a little dramatically pointless. It was everything you’d avoided last year by flying off to England but that you couldn’t escape this time. What was the point? What was the point of pretending? 

Wiping your nose, you stood, eyes heavy, swollen, and itchy. With your coat gone, you heaved the tree up until it was sitting securely in its stand, needles scattered in its wake but branches full and outstretched, enveloping you in the warm smell of Christmas in a way the cedar- and balsam-scented candles couldn’t. Stepping back with your hands on your hips, you looked up at it, the swell of your anxiety simmering, thanks partly to your crying fit and partly to succeeding at the task. You’d decorate it bit by bit to draw the season out, and then on Christmas Eve, you’d call him and you’d both sit by your own trees and talk until it was Christmas Day for him. It was just for now -- this wasn’t the way of all ways for all time. 

Click.

You nearly passed out cold from the rush of fearful adrenaline shooting through you when the lock on the door clicked. In three seconds, you ran through whether or not you’d locked the door, determined that you had but then had forgotten, and figured out that somehow, someone had gotten in and they weren’t supposed to. You spun, frozen, brain zooming to determine if you dove behind a sofa or if you charged, but you didn’t get the chance before the door opened. 

A duffle bag, a foot, a body, in that order, and then a pair of wide, green eyes rimmed with circles just above a cloth mask.

“You do not get to be mad at me,” he said, voice muffled. He grunted and pushed the door open wider to bring in the rest of his luggage as you stood there, as equally speechless as you were breathless. “I tested before I came here,” he said, speaking with a loud if exhausted sort of authority, like he was trying to get the words out before you could protest. “But I’ll take the guest room, and I’ll get my own food, and we’ll keep out of each other’s space until the two weeks are up.” 

He brought his bags in the rest of the way, and it was only when he was halfway by you that he stopped in his tracks. “Y’haven’t moved,” he said, eyebrows furrowing as he narrowed his eyes on you. “Are you all right?” 

Lightheaded, you nodded. 

“O… kay,” he said, stilted, still eyeing you. “M’just gonna go get settled and showered, then.” 

“What are you doing here?” you asked, the words finally forcing themselves from you. 

“S’Christmas.”

“You’re supposed to--”

“Mum knows,” he interrupted. “M’taking Christmas here this year. Gem’ll have Christmas with her and I’ll go along after. She’s excited about having two. ‘Scuse me….” 

Nodding, you waved him away to hurry, shoo, because you could feel the emotions rising in you again and your confusion wasn’t enough to quell them. Fifteen minutes ago, you’d been kneeling on the floor with aching knees, crying, and now here he was. 

You’d wrestle with the confliction of doing what was right and doing what you wanted… later. Later, when you could wrap your head around it and the choice he’d made. 

Two weeks. That would put you just on Christmas Day, basically. Just two weeks.

***

Dodging him around the apartment was a lot more difficult than you would’ve guessed for how big it was. More than once you nearly slammed into him in the kitchen, and someone was always in the favored bathroom. For his part, he’d taken to wearing a mask when he roamed, and even though you told him he didn’t have to do that, all he did was hum behind it. You got it -- the positive result from the crewperson on set had spooked everyone, and he was being safe. You both were being safe, but for as mindful as you’d been throughout, all you wanted to do was hold him, hug him, kiss him. Video calls were ridiculous when you were in the same house and you could hear his laugh through the walls. But you got it, and if you kicked too much he’d book a hotel to quarantine away from you, so you’d rather have him here, as selfish and risky as it was. 

It was three days into your little bubble that he finally dared to get within arm’s reach of you. You were mulling over where to put the chimney sweep ornament when he shuffled over to the foot of the ladder you were leaning on, and you raised an eyebrow, arm outstretched.

“Can I help you?” you asked.

He shook his head, the lights from the tree reflected in his eyes. “Just watching,” he said from behind his mask. 

“You’re standing a little close, aren’t you?” you teased. Jokes were all you had -- all anyone had this year, if they were lucky. 

Immediately, he scowled -- how funny you could tell what his face looked like so clearly even with the cloth stretched firmly across it -- and you giggled. “Watch what you’re doing,” he said, taking his hands from his sweatshirt pocket to grab the ladder legs, and with his support, you held on tightly and leaned over to place it on the prime branch. 

“Thank you,” you said. “Do you want to pass me that box?” 

He did so and you murmured your thanks, resting it on the top step as you pulled ornaments out to hang them. 

“Not there,” he said before you could drop a hook over a branch with a snowflake. “Give it… thank you.” He took it carefully from you and placed it on a different one closer to him, lower than where you were placing it but slightly higher than you could reach without a ladder. 

“Thank you.” 

Together, slowly, ornaments were hooked and rehooked (and rehooked yet again when one of you noticed the other had moved them from a spot you each thought was perfect) until the tree was trimmed, each branch heavily laden, bearing the weight of ornaments and of providing joy after the year behind. 

“How’d you get this home?” he asked, looking up at it with you once you were off the ladder. 

“Carefully,” you said dryly. “Oh! The top.” You turned, but he cut across your path.

“I’ve got it,” he said, grabbing the box from the precarious stack next to the coffee table. 

“I want to,” you whined and he snorted.

“You’ve done the whole bloody thing,” he said without venom. “Let me do just the one.” With it in hand, he climbed the ladder as you held it steady, and he set it on the topmost branch, prodding it until it was tall and straight up, all five points outstretched and shining. 

“That’s perfect,” you said under your breath, resting your head on his leg, and he patted the top of your head gently. You stayed like that for a minute, two, three, and more, with your arm curling around his calf, embracing as much physical contact as he’d allowed since he came home. “How many more days?”

“Eleven.” He sounded thoughtful, resentful, and exhausted all in one go. You squeezed his leg and kissed his knee through his joggers. 

“Then it’s Christmas,” you said.

He exhaled slowly, still patting your head. “Christmas morning.” 

***

Eleven. Whole. Days. 

Eleven days of more of the same. He’d eased up, thankfully, and dared to venture a little closer with a mask on, because, as you’d reminded him, he had tested negative. You sat on opposite ends of the couch, enjoying the Christmas tree and decorations together, laughing, talking, planning, and exchanging stories about everything that had happened while you were apart. His, of course, were wildly more interesting, but he somehow managed to hang onto every word of even your most droll and mundane ones, and always with the right questions and supportive murmurs of agreement as necessary. 

Eleven days of saying goodnight and crawling into a bed that was too big for one when two was next door. 

Eleven days of not being able to share meals properly or touch each other -- sex aside -- and eleven days of Hell.

“It’s your fault,” you said one night from your end of the couch, scowling with your arms crossed. The tree twinkled happily despite your sour mood, and music that was too merry and bright played from the television. 

“Me?” he asked indignantly. 

“Yes! You had to do that stupid film.” 

“It’s not stupid.”

“You’re wearing a mask in our home,” you said, burrowing into the cushions. “If I want to call it stupid, I will.” 

He groaned, dropping his head forward. “Baby….”

You grunted. 

“It’s only a couple more days. A couple more days, and then it’s Christmas. Think of it like a present you’re waiting for.”

Despite yourself, you snorted. 

“I’m all you want for Christmas, aren’t--?”

“Shut up,” you said, kicking his thigh with your extended leg. He snickered, eyes crinkled and full of light all their own. 

“Couple more days,” he said, patting your ankle. “Couple more days, and then you won’t even be able to get rid of me. We’ll be in bed all weekend.”

“I’m not calling your mother from bed.”

He waggled his brows with some exaggeration and you rolled your eyes. 

That had been around day five, maybe six. Suffice it to say, by Christmas Eve, you were done. 

“It’s one day!” you said over breakfast in the kitchen. “One day, Harry!” 

“We made it this long,” he said, pouring hot coffee into a mug that had his face printed onto the head of dancing elf -- a gift from his mother shipped along with a matching one for you that she insisted you both open ahead of time to enjoy for as long as possible. “We can make it a couple more hours.”

“If I stripped naked, what would you do? Stand there and watch me?” 

He froze and looked at you over his mask, the heated warning pinning you in place. Huffing, you pushed the stool away from the counter and hopped off it.

“Where are you--?”

“Out,” you said. “I’m going to get--” You floundered. “Coffee.” 

A beat passed and his eyes dropped to the mug in his hand.

“We literally have--”

“I’m going out!” you said, wrapping your neck and half your face up in a scarf to keep warm. You were going out, because you were mad, and the tantrum was burgeoning. That poor man had seen more unreasonable tantrums from you this year than he had in the entire two and a half you’d reciprocally acknowledged each other’s presence, and you hated it. But he’d hate it, too, if you’d gone on a trip for work and come back and things were off.

Could be worse, you reminded yourself. It could be so very, very much worse.

“I love you,” you said, calmly, firmly. “I’ll be back. I’m only going around the block. Take that--” You waved at his mask, “--off. I’ll let you know when I’m on my way in..” 

When you returned, he was in the guest room, but a fresh cup of coffee in your own dancing elf mug rested on a mug warming plate. The last of your frustrations that hadn’t melted with the walk deflated and you picked it up, enjoying the aroma before taking a deep sip. 

He always made it better. And the coffee was nice, too. 

His mother called in the afternoon and you hardly noticed he was at your side until the phone was in front of your face and you gave a startled hello. 

“Has he been wearing that the whole time he’s been home with you?” she asked, her gleaming eyes and wide, genuine smile matching her son’s own warmth. 

Home. With you. 

“He has,” you said. 

“S’posed to be proud of me,” Harry said and Anne laughed.

“Of course, sweetheart. We’re still calling tomorrow?” she asked you. 

“Yeah,” you said. “We’ll be here.”

“Next year will be different, won’t it?” she all but clucked. “Did you like your mugs? I got one for me, Gemma, and Michal, too.” 

“Used them just this morning,” he said, squeezing your hip and wandering away. “Won’t be posting them anywhere for people to see, though….” 

Eventually -- finally -- the day drew to a close, and you crawled into bed with the knowledge that it was just one more night. One more night, and then in the morning you could say hello like you wanted to. One more night and you wouldn’t want to bite his head off. One more night and you wouldn’t feel so mental, as he would put it. 

And yet, lying there, the minutes dragged. Ten? No, just one. Fifteen? Five. 

It felt like Christmas, though. As much as this was pure torture, this was what Christmas was supposed to feel like -- like it used to feel when you were a kid and you’d wait for weeks tingling anticipation, counting down, hoping that you’d find what you wanted under the tree, bursting with more energy than any amount of sugar could give you. Except instead of presents, or money, or sweets, you were waiting for the man who’d been under your nose for two weeks by this point. You got to kiss your boyfriend tomorrow. You got to see your boyfriend, hold your boyfriend, and celebrate Christmas with your boyfriend. 

Twenty minutes? Two. 

12:02.

Two minutes after midnight.

Christmas.

Fourteen days. 

Oh!

You sprang from the bed before you could think about the matter and darted to the door over the cold wooden floor, but when you rounded the corner in the hallway, out of nowhere, something all but slammed into you. Sucking in a sharp breath with a screwed up face, you squeaked when you collided with a very warm, very sturdy frame. Belatedly, two arms shot out to grab you by yours to steady you. “Oh my God, I--”

Hair, forehead, eyes, nose, and mouth, too. No mask. 

“Are you o--?”

He didn’t get to finish his question. You clapped your hands over his cheeks and kissed him soundly before he could kiss you first. Under ordinary circumstances, he’d laugh -- you both would -- but rather than that, he locked both his arms around you tightly and spun you, teetering precariously with you in tow until you got to the guest bed. Tackle was an apt word for how he delivered you to it, but you were the farthest thing from upset at finally having not even an inch of space between you. The bed smelled like him and it was warm, he was warm, and you were kissing again, and again, and again, cold noses smushing together as you found new angles. 

“Christmas,” he mumbled between them.

“Mmhm,” you returned against his mouth, legs interlocking with his. “I missed you,” you whispered.

“Missed you, too.” 

Shivering, you both pulled the duvet up over your shoulders, and you curled up against him. Cologne, skin, and laundry detergent, with a bit of his minty toothpaste. There was no scented candle for that. You pressed your fingers against his chest and scratched lightly through the smattering of hair there. “We could go to our bed,” you reminded him, but he shook his head.

“Y’here now,” he rasped, leaning in to press his lips comfortably to your hairline, one arm draped over your back. “Let’s stay here tonight and we can change things later.” 

“Were you coming to get me?” you asked, voice shaking as the last of the shivers left your bones. 

“Yeah,” he admitted. You laughed, teeth chattering, and he pulled you closer. “Don’t laugh!” he said, rubbing your back and warming you. “S’been two weeks for me, hasn’t it?”

“For you!”

“You try bein’ home with you for that long,” he mumbled. 

Shaking again, but less than before, you kissed the underside of his chin. “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas, darling.” 

***

When you woke up, his back was to you, and his one shoulder was rising and falling with the rhythm of his sputtery, wheezy snores. You smiled, closing your eyes, and snuggled into the pillow. Better -- much better. You dozed on for an unknown amount of time, and you were walking the line between sleep and consciousness when featherlight kisses across your brow startled you and you jerked awake.

“Sorry,” Harry mumbled, only sounding slightly truthful. You made a noise and stretched, shaking from head to toe before curling up into a tight little ball next to him and opening your eyes fully. His own were puffy with sleep, but he grinned radiantly as if he’d been awake for a while.

“What?” you asked in a croak.

“Nothing,” he said. “Mum’s gonna call soon.”

Groaning, you halfheartedly turned your head to look over your shoulder. “What time is it?” you asked, straining to see the window and get a gauge. 

“S’ten,” he said. “So about three for them. Sure you don’t want to call from bed?” 

You glowered at him and his lip twitched. “I’ll put the coffee on.” 

When you finally managed to leave the warm nest of the bed, the living room had been transformed. The tree was on, twinkling under the streams of light pouring in through the windows, and he’d lit the fireplace, too, flames licking up and up behind the glass. Soft, melodic Christmas music floated from the far corners of the room, and the smell of coffee tickled your nose. 

“So,” he said from his spot at the island as he unwrapped cheeses and opened jars of olives, and jams, and honeys, and other goodies. “What time do we pop the bubbly?” 

Laughing softly, you shuffled over. “It’s ten.”

“Little after ten now,” he said, lips pressed tightly together and arms flexed until the lid popped. “And somewhere in the world it’s five o’clock.” 

You pulled a grape off the bunch lying on the counter and popped it into your mouth, chewing not so delicately but enjoying the sweet burst of freshness. You’d no sooner swallowed than his phone started buzzing and you grabbed it, sliding your finger to answer the call from the incoming Mum and pointing it at him.

“Happy Christmas, honey.” Anne’s voice was warm even through the phone, and Harry’s head whipped up.

“Wh-- Happy Christmas-- didn’t know you were-- ‘scuse the mess,” he said as you giggled behind the phone. 

“Having a good morning so far?” 

“Goin’ ok, yeah,” he said. “Just getting started, heating up the coffee.”

“Where’s your better half gotten off to?” 

Trying not to melt, you waved your hand in front of the camera. 

“Hello, love,” she said. “Happy Christmas.” 

“Happy Christmas, Anne.”

“Are we going to get to see you today?”

“Fair’s fair,” Harry chimed in. “Turn that thing around, why don’t you?” 

Rolling your eyes, you flipped the phone and waved, sliding around the counter to stand next to him. 

“That’s better,” Anne said with a firm nod. She had a red top on with a festive, sparkly necklace, and looked a good deal more put together than either one of you.

“Where’s Gem?” Harry asked, taking the phone from you so you could unbox the crackers. 

“Upstairs napping off the morning,” she said. “She’ll want to call again later.” 

And that was how the morning went, with each of you passing his mother back and forth while you carried plates and trays full of snacks to the coffee table and couch in front of the tree to nibble while tearing into gifts on camera, including a box full of chocolates for you, Branston pickle for him, and Christmas crackers for both of you to have, “A little bit of home this year.”

“Thank you,” you said, clutching your sweets close. “And thank you for--” Unbidden, you choked up, and Harry glanced at you sharply, his inquisition vanishing with his understanding. For sharing him -- allowing you to steal him away during the holidays in a year where everyone needed family, either by blood or choice. He squeezed your shoulders and his mother, as adept as he was at redirecting a conversation, piped up. 

“Promise you’ll come see us again next year,” Anne said. “It’s been too long.”

“It has been,” you agreed, resting your cheek on his shoulder. 

“Maybe sooner.” Harry looked down at you. “If things ease up?” 

You nodded. “Summer in London,” you mused. “That would be nice.”

“And then a bit of time back home. We could go before things pick up in August.”

Summer in London. A beacon of hope you couldn’t erect just yet, but a beacon nevertheless. A bit of time with him before he, hopefully, went back to work and you got to revisit adjusted and postponed plans. 

The rest of your Christmas Day was quiet -- different from the year before when you’d been overwhelmed with names, faces, screeches of Uncle Harry, and not being sure how to break your way in. You kept trays of cheese, crackers, and other snacks within an arm’s reach, and by the early afternoon both of you had a comfortably steady buzz from the bubbly he was good at topping off both your glasses with -- never sloppily drunk, but enough to be warm in your fingers and toes and to seek out cuddles from him under the blanket you were snuggled in on the sofa with paper crowns on both your heads. 

“Can I tell you something?” you asked, ribs crunched from how far you’d slid down on the sofa to nestle into his side, all but eye-level with his chest. “And have it not be as awful as it sounds?” 

You felt his laugh before you heard it. “Sure,” he drawled. “What is it?” 

Squeezing his wrist, you turned your mouth into his forearm, eyes on the television as a snowman leapt and bounded over a wide, snowy plain before jumping into the air. “I like this Christmas,” you admitted into his skin. 

Harry snorted. “S’not awful, s’the point -- Christmas is supposed to be likeable.”  

“You know what I mean,” you said, sighing. “I know it’s just us and there’s no family or anyone around, but… I dunno… it’s not all bad, is it?” 

“Like having me to yourself?” 

You groaned and rolled your eyes, shaking your head. “Shut up,” you mumbled. 

He kissed the top of your head, crown crunching under it, and you grunted. “S’not so bad,” he said into your hair. “Like having you all to myself, too, y’know.” 

“You’re just saying that because you have to because you’re stuck with me,” you said and he laughed with another smacking kiss. 

“Not stuck with me yet,” he crooned. “Can leave any time you want.” 

“Maybe I will….”

“Oi!”

Giggling, you untangled yourself from him and squirmed out from underneath the blanket. “More bubbly?” 

***

Boxing Day was a Christmas redux, with more cheese, sparkling wine, music, and calls with family and friends. Long distance versions of old favorite games were adapted and adopted, and you snickered quietly from the corner of the couch, staying out of his way when he shouted about how he had hit the button, it was his trackpad that hadn’t worked. 

The late afternoon and on, though, was yours together and alone with the time difference breaking up the party earlier than it normally would be. The bittersweet cloud vanished, though, when you at some point you separated even further into your own activities -- him with his stack of new books and you with a film you played quietly on your laptop. Able to be near each other without having to be wrapped up and begging with your bodies for sorely missed attention, it finally, really, felt like home again. 

“It’s so pretty out,” you murmured, nose pressed to the windowpane to see as much of the light-lined streets as you could. It got dark earlier and earlier these days, and yet later than it had even a few days ago. “I love Christmas in New York. I wish--” You caught yourself ahead of finishing the sentence, thinking better. 

You wished it was a normal year -- for many reasons -- so you two could go out and see the city. So you could show him your favorite places, so you could make memories together like you had with him last year. It wasn’t anything life altering or new, but it was different when you were with someone you loved. You wanted him to know you -- all of you, even the unknowable parts. 

“Y’know,” he said next to your ear, hand on the back of your neck as he slunk up behind you, “it’s getting pretty late.”

You turned your head slightly, looking at him in the reflection of the glass. “Do you want to go to bed?” 

Too early for sleep. Was he asking for sex? 

Harry hummed and shook his head. “How ‘bout you get your coat on?” he murmured. “Let’s have that Boxing Day walk we didn’t get last year.”

“Now?”

“When else?” he said. “Haven’t been out yet, and it’s late. Streets’ll be empty. We can go wherever, do whatever, see whatever.” 

“You’re serious?” 

Nodding, he pulled you by the arm and you stumbled with him, still processing it even as you pulled beanies on with masks and (winter) gloves.

“Where are we going?” you asked.

He shrugged, calling the elevator. “Dunno,” he said. “Figured you’d lead the way. Show me your favorite bits. Seem t’remember summat about Bryant Park last year.” 

There were sobering realities at the street level, too. Gates were down on storefronts that hadn’t been pulled up since March, awnings above them tattered from months of neglect and ‘For Rent’ signs flapping against them in the wind. The usual post-holiday influx of tourists was thinned, with hardly a white sneaker in sight, and everything was just a little quieter than it should be and would be in a usual year.

But there were lights. Broadway’s may have dimmed for the time being, but endless, endless displays of lights, brighter without the ambient light pouring from storefronts diminishing their power, offered beacons of hope -- literal lighthouses in a storm of a year -- and led you uptown like a trail of breadcrumbs. 

You pulled him this way and that way, weaving through side streets to look at any display that looked bright enough from a distance, fingers locked tightly with his in a way they never were outside of the house. As bittersweet as it was no one was out, it afforded you a level of privacy you never had, anywhere. Not even Holmes Chapel. You couldn’t remember a time where you’d ever held his hand for this long at one time, if you were honest, and while you didn’t need it, you enjoyed the option. 

In between zigs and zags, he mumbled stories to you about this time, and another time, and a time after that, pointing at buildings, venues, restaurants, and hotels, and you listened half in awe and half in earnest. It was a whole other life he’d lived without you before, and you’d only been aware of the surface of it. Nobody knew what he was telling you except the people he’d lived it with, and you didn’t think you’d ever get over or be able to thank him for trusting you to be someone he chose to share it with. 

“I love Sixth,” you said, sighing as you walked past giant red Christmas ornaments three times the size of you both, the reflection of the string lights wrapped around tree branches bouncing off their shiny surfaces. Radio City’s electric red script beamed at you both from a distance, and traffic lights winked and waved in the wind up and down the avenue. “They do a lot with it.” 

“It’s pretty,” he said, squeezing your hand. “Tree’s this way, isn’t it?” he asked. 

You raised your eyebrows. “Yeah,” you said. 

He jerked his head and you blinked. 

“You want to?” you asked. 

“Just a bit,” he said. “Let’s go.” 

“There’s people!” you warned him, because even from here you could see the trickle of people with the same thought. “And I saw online they have a schedule--”

“We don’t have to get close,” he said, pulling you firmly. “S’big enough we don’t need to, just wanna take a peek.” 

He was so certain, but you were less so, because all you needed was someone to see him to break the serene bubble you’d blown around yourselves. Despite that, you shuffled with him until the tree was visible, a bright, glowing ball of multi-colored lights stretching towards the sky. “Wow,” you whispered under your breath. 

“S’nice,” he said and you nodded your agreement. It was nice -- despite the sad press it had gotten, the tree had turned out very nice at the end of it all, tall and impossibly beating all odds. What a metaphor for the year.

“It’s beautiful,” you murmured, squeezing him around the middle. 

“Come here,” Harry said next to your ear.

“Hmm?” Reluctantly tearing your eyes from the tree, you gasped when he pulled your mask down first and then his own in two swift tugs, revealing a cheeky grin with a face cradled by the fabric. “What are you doing?” you asked, eyes darting around. 

“Getting a kiss by the tree with my girlfriend,” he said. “Now, come here,” he repeated. This time, you obliged and allowed him to steal one, two, three kisses, each one of them smashed against your lips with a palpable sort of eagerness that made you think he would drink you if he could. This felt… normal. Normal, safe, and free. 

You couldn’t remember the last time you’d felt like that. 

When you broke and burrowed against his neck, he covered the back of your head and wrapped his other arm around your back, cocooning you in the shell of the most protective embrace he could give. Just a man -- any man, a regular man -- holding the person he loved, and, after his decision to stay with you through Christmas and New Years, he arguably loved you most. 

Through the thick knit of your beanie, you felt him kissing your head, and you nuzzled into his scarf. “Thank you,” you said, face safely out of sight. “For coming here.” 

“Not mad a’me for it?” he mumbled and you shook your head. “‘Kay, good.” 

Shivering, you huddled closer and he tightened his arms, shielding you from the brisk wind. 

“People will see,” you said, but despite that you held him closer. 

“Who cares?”

He did, despite his quiet rasp. He did, and you knew why he did, but right then, you could pretend that it didn’t matter at all. 

***

It was simultaneously the longest and shortest week of your life. 

The longest, because time didn’t exist, much like it hadn’t for most of the year. Days, afternoons, evenings, and nights blended together, blurred by a happy holiday haze onset by too much of everything good -- sleep, sustenance, and spirits. The weird, if nice, part of all the extra time was having the chance to do things you’d enjoyed over the course of the year all over again. Nine times out of ten, when the two of you were together, it was rushed even on the long layovers. You’d watch one series or a film the whole way through, and next time you’d have to be on to the next one you’d agreed to hold off on until the other was there, but after having spent most of the year under the same roof, the typical race to the next one was paused. Instead, you settled in for old Christmas films and other ones you hadn’t seen since you first started properly dating, lending a timeless sort of quality to the week. 

The shortest, because he’d only just gotten there. How had it been three weeks since he’d walked in the front door with a mask on and a warning? Three weeks, two of them masked, and now it was over and done. The whole year was over and done, with 2020 coming to a slow close after feeling simultaneously like it never would and like it was moving much, much too fast. Who would’ve known this would be how it would turn out after kicking it off in the back of his car with a paper plate full of snacks and the countdown on his phone? You’d made it through another year, together. 

“Do you know what I just realized?” you asked as you unpacked the bag from El Diablito at the kitchen counter. In the background, the low hum of commentators on the TV remarking about how different this year was provided a steady buzz amidst familiar scenery of lights in different cities. Berlin had gone first, then London, and now, gradually, the new year on the east coast was gliding ever closer. 

“What?” he asked over the noise of him unfurling the bag of tortilla chips. 

“This was our first year together,” you said. “Full--” you drew an arc through the air-- “year, I mean. Saying it and all that.” 

He didn’t say anything, but when you looked at him the corner of his mouth was lifted up slightly. “S’pose it is, yeah. Feels like longer.” He fished a chip out with his index and middle fingers before crunching into it noisily. 

“Almost three years of everything else,” you murmured, unwrapping a taco to inspect it. “This one’s yours.” 

“‘Everything else’?” he teased, snickering when you slid the taco across the counter to him. “Watch it, it’ll fall apart….” 

“Shut up and eat,” you said and he barked a laugh, grin permanent and eyes sparkling as he unwrapped it to peek.

“In a minute,” he said, setting down his food, satisfied it looked right. “Come here,” he said.

“Why?” you asked, smiling slightly though you eyed him suspiciously. “What do you want?”

He motioned with his hand. “C’mere a minute,” he repeated, voice light but eyes tight, and he swallowed hard. A cold wave washed down you from head to toe. You didn’t know why you were suddenly so nervous, but the nerves themselves spiked your anxiety and made your scalp prickly and your palms sweaty, and they got worse when he grabbed one of your hands -- your left hand -- to hold between his. “I’ve been wanting to talk to you about summat.” 

Oh, God. 

“Harry,” you said, but he shook his head.

“Lemme do this.” 

Five seconds. Five seconds was all it took to imagine the words coming out of his mouth, quietly, with soft, trusting eyes waiting patiently, hopefully for an answer. Five seconds was all it took for you to imagine mucking it all up with a twisted tongue, not because you weren’t sure what to say, but how to say it. No, no, no -- you didn’t want to hurt him, not even temporarily, not even by accident. 

Clearing his throat, he squeezed your hand. “I dunno how to do this,” he said, and for the first time ever, you were pretty sure he laughed without his eyes. You made a noise in your throat and curled your fingertips into his palm. “I love you,” he continued, Adam’s apple bobbing, lips trying and failing to form a smile. He was terrified, but determined, and you held his hand tighter while pressing your opposite one into his cheek.

I love you, too. You couldn’t say it, but you felt them swelling in your chest, growing your heart not two, not even three, but six times over. 

He opened and closed his mouth a few times before saying, “M’going to spend the rest of my life with you,” with a thoughtful quality in his rasp. “I think, if-- if that’s somethin’ you….”

You couldn’t breathe. You couldn’t, you were trying, but it was like sucking in helium. 

“So, m’kind of wondering if--”

“Harry--”

“I’m not,” he shook his head. “I’m not asking you anything right now, because we’re not ready.” He rubbed the back of your hand assuringly. “We’re not ready, you have… and I’m….” He exhaled sharply, dropping his head, and your hand moved from his cheek to his hair and you rubbed the back of his neck. “I just want to know,” he said, breathing heavily, with his voice muffled into his chest, talking very fast, barreling through and tripping over words, “if I’m totally off base here. Cause m’not gonna now when there’s so much shit happening, but like… I don’t want to put my foot in my mouth when-- if I do, so if I could just get an idea of what you think, because we had a talk once but now every time you cut me off at the knees and--”

He sputtered, stopping short, and you pressed your face into his short hair. 

“I want it,” you said, sounding braver than you felt admitting wants out loud. “I do. I will.” 

His shoulders fell with his slow, deep breaths, and you rubbed your fingertips into his scalp gently.

“I will,” you say. “Promise,” you added, voice cracking. “You’re not off base.”

Neither of you said anything for a while. You couldn’t -- you quite literally, physically couldn’t -- and he was gulping for air as quietly as he could. 

“Okay,” he said into his chest finally, sounding inexplicably embarrassed. “S’good to know.”

Silly, silly man. Did he really think… did he doubt…? “I love you,” you murmured. 

“I know,” he said. “I know y’do.”

“No, you don’t.” You kissed his head. “I love you, I-- you’ll never know.” 

Harry took a deep breath before straightening up, head high and curls falling over his forehead above the weariest, most agonized eyes you’d ever seen. His cheeks were bright red, and he might as well have just run a marathon for how spent and miserable he looked. 

“I promise,” you repeated. “I promise, honey.”

He nodded slightly, mouth still set in a thin, grim line, and, instinctively, you stepped in to kiss him, because no. No, that wouldn’t do. Stiff and unmoving at first under your lips, gradually he warmed and softened, releasing your hand to grab your hips and you moaned softly, hands running across his shoulders over his hoodie. You promised -- when it was right, when you both could, if he asked and it was what you both wanted? There was only one answer you’d ever give. 

The stool scraped against the floor when he stood, but he never broke the kiss, and you squeaked when you stumbled back against the counter. You opened your mouth wider when he coaxed you to, dizzy behind your closed eyes, and you let your hands wander freely, pulling him into you as the intensity behind the kiss escalated from comfort to need.

Two weeks. Two weeks -- three -- of pent up energy. Of hardly being able to touch each other, of being close but not close enough. 

“Come here,” he demanded in a mumble, the firm hold he had on your jaw to hold you in place as he kissed you the way he wanted leaving you breathless. Rarely did he ever do that; usually, he guided you into what you both wanted to build it until the bubble of tension popped. There was something thrilling about being told though -- something that reminded you of when you were new, three months instead of almost three years in. Something that was like when time was limited and you had to be efficient to learn each other and what would feel good and do good for the other and yourselves, and telling was sometimes all you had. 

Harry broke away with a wounded little noise and you blinked, dazed. “M’just….” He grabbed two tacos with one hand and threw them back into the paper bag. “M’moving these.” Tacos, nachos, and burritos all went back in, topped off with the chips, and he shoved them aside with some impatience. You laughed breathily and lifted yourself up onto the counter with his help, but it faded when he stepped between your legs and cupped your cheek and jaw and you caught a glimpse of the blown pupils and flushed cheeks that gave him a wild, primal look before your own eyes shut. 

Each and every tender sponging of his lips across your jaw and down your neck made you ache, and it was all you could do to stay upright and not collapse back, limp from how weak you were. His needy, mesmerized groans made your belly tighten, and when he tugged the hem of your shirt you nodded. 

Shirt, sweatshirt, bra, and undershirt were the first to go, and the straps had no sooner fallen down your shoulders than you let out a wordless, guttural shout from deep in your chest when Harry latched on and sucked your nipple with greedy enthusiasm, moving with you when you squirmed, his stubble scraping the soft skin of your breast. 

“Oh my God,” you gasped, eyes watering and elbow nearly buckling underneath you in your effort to hold yourself up. “Yes, please,” you said when he pulled the strings on your sweats. 

“That’s my girl,” he said, releasing with a pop and latching on again. “That’s my girl… gonna make it better for you.” He stood tall again when he pulled by the waistline, and you wriggled until they were at your knees and you could kick them off the rest of the way with your underwear as he dropped his own to his ankles. 

With nothing left between you, you shivered, shrinking into him when he stepped closer and drew his hands around your body in a circuit. Legs first, stomach, back, breasts, shoulders, arms, and repeat, each squeeze and dig of his hands and fingers just a little restrained and not as zealous as his groans and heavy breathing made him out to be -- like he was trying to be good, or patient, or….

“It’s ok,” you murmured between kisses. “You don’t have to wait.” They’d done the waiting -- more than enough of it. You just wanted him now.

“Sure?” Harry rasped and you nodded, eyes rolling up when he slipped his fingers between you both and they slipped up and down your folds. “Sure,” he confirmed under his breath. “Open a little more for me, love-- there we are, thank you.” 

You folded your arms around his neck and over his back and locked your ankles loosely just under his ass, heart racing in your chest. 

“Breathe in--” Harry murmured and you squeezed your eyes shut when he fit his head against your entrance. It slid and you laughed, kissing his jaw when he kissed your brow through his grin. “Deep breath for me.” 

Every time. He did that almost every time with you, first asking for a deep breath and then, invariably, pulling a long exhale from you when he thrust into your warm, wet cunt. “Oh, fuck,” he whispered in awe, holding still. You could feel the tremors pulling each fiber in his muscles, and when he throbbed inside you, you bit your lip. “Holy shit, you’ve got me good,” he groaned. 

You laughed once. “Yeah.” Yeah, something like that. Wincing, you rolled your hips forward and gasped softly from the stretch before tightening your arms and pressing your face against his hot skin. You nuzzled in between your own slow, lingering kisses, taking deep, grounding breaths. He was soft, and smooth, but firm, and hard, and he smelled amazing. Clean -- all soap and cologne with some detergent that smelled even more from the warmth of his skin. 

“Oh, God,” you whispered. “Oh, God, I--” You sucked in a harsh breath, abdomen tightening as you pulsed around him, feeling wetter, and you moved your face higher, nose pressed into the base of his sheared hair as you moaned quietly. “Oh my God, I love you.” Pitchy, bordering on hysteria, but you’d be hard pressed to remember a time you felt it as much as you meant it like you did right then. “I love you, I love-- I-- you feel--” Good. Better than good. No one had ever fit like he had -- too much, but just enough, physically, mentally, emotionally. 

“I love….” Harry gulped. “Shit, ok, m’gonna….” He made to pull his shoulders back, but you shook your head. 

“No, no, stay,” you begged, wrapping your arms and legs tighter. “Stay, please,” you murmured. 

“I can’t-- ok,” he panted. “Lemme….” He gripped your ass and pulled you closer and your back arched as you opened your thighs just a little more. “There we go,” he grunted, hips snapping forward as he finally moved. “That’s… fuck, that’s better now.” 

You could hear the effort you could feel between your legs -- each sharp pull of breath between his teeth, each muted grunt between his driving thrusts, and the pants he let out when he had to stop for a moment to catch his breath. “M’ok,” he said every time between labored gulps for air. “M’good, I just need to--” and he grit his teeth before he began again, and again, you gasped and whimpered, shrinking closer to him. 

You didn’t want to be anywhere else, with anyone else, now or ever. You didn’t want to be this close to anyone else again ever. This was never supposed to happen. He was never supposed to meet you, know you, fall in love with you, nor you with him, but now he had, and you were, and you couldn’t imagine it any other way. You couldn’t imagine a world in which he didn’t come home to you, for you, and where you weren’t there. Not waiting -- never waiting on a man, any man, but ready for him when he returned and ready to move forward together. 

He was yours. He was yours, and you were his, and the mere thought pulled something behind your belly button, making you groan.

“What?” he asked, kissing the side of your head. “What, darling, what?”

“I’m gonna cum,” you whispered and then whimpered, tightening your hold around his neck and in his hair. “Harry--” you choked, shuddering with your deep breaths.

“I know.” He grunted, thrusting with slightly more power. “Fuck! Tight little--”

“Don’t stop,” you begged. “Don’t stop, I’m close, I’m so-- I just need--” Faster and faster you rolled your hips against his, crying out against him when he wedged his thumb between you both to catch your clit, a stream of mumbled, “I’m gonna cum, you’re making me cum,” confessions hidden in his neck. Deep breaths. Long, slow, and deep, with your toes curling behind him until you were barely breathing in your efforts to concentrate, because you were right there. And then, you did cum, hard, convulsing and sucking in harshly as you trembled your way through whimpers of his name, immediately and thoroughly exhausted. 

Both his arms locked around you, then, all but crushing you to his torso in his efforts to hold you up, and he thrust hard, fast, deep, getting the right rhythm and stroke he needed. Barely able to keep your eyes open, your mouth moved soundlessly around the demand -- request -- to cum. Cum, Harry, cum, baby, please. Wordlessly, he sputtered through a sharp exhale, and it was the only indication before you felt the hot, wet release accompanying his groans.

“Fuck,” he choked, one of his hands landing hard on the counter to prop both of you up. You laughed, eyes rolling up, and you held on tightly through his turn to shake. 

“Happy New Year,” you said, still feeling a little punch-drunk from your orgasm.

He nodded. “H-Happy--” he gulped. “Happy New Year, darling.” His shoulders slumped. “Reckon this was the problem,” he said. “Should’ve fuckin’ rung the year in right last time, y’know?” 

“Right,” you breathed even as you shook your head, not quite caught up with what he was saying. 

“M’only sayin’,” he said. “We had sex the one time last Christmas. Should’ve had… a bit more,” he said indeterminately. 

“We haven’t had sex since you’ve been home.” 

Sighing heavily, he kissed your shoulder. “S’pose we’d better start,” he slurred. “S’not the new year yet.” 

[arsonsamruby]

sam winchester pride

i have a new fic <3 hiiiiiiiiiiiiiii

it’s s1 sam coming out to dean. was THIS close to making the ending sam ugly crying alone but even though dean Is like. microaggressions boy he’s not going to be a bitch about it all that’s out of character. i think he does try very hard to support sam. like he’s not an ally but probably because he doesn’t really know what an ally is. 

anyway wtf am i even saying.

___ Sam has a headache. Dean comes by, ruffles his hair, slouches into the couch. Sam licks his lips, looking away from the screen. It has loud, bright cartoons on it and in the prickling sense of dread he’s carrying with him, the stimulation is too much. 

Half of the headache is from a hard hit he took to the head, lingering pain. The other half is stress and dehydration. Unless beer counts as hydration, then in which- well, he’s covered. The screen of the television is cracked through; it’s playing Friends reruns. 

He stands abruptly. 

“Sammy, I swear to God, if you start pacing again-” Dean warns, throwing a pillow at him. Sam ducks it, somehow. His body takes up half the room. It’s hard to find space. 

He can’t help it. His feet get itchy, his legs pull tight, and it’s nice. Nice, to put in his earphones and walk around for a little while. “I’ll go out to the parking lot, promise. I won’t bother you.” 

He smiles slightly at Dean, but his brother isn’t much looking. 

The parking lot of the motel has the sticky feeling underfoot of summer heat on asphalt, and sweat. The crumbling pollen and flowers from the trees have made his half-present allergies flare up. As a kid, Sam would have allergy seasons that ran out of sync with everyone else’s. 

Go three years without a single cold, until one awful summer would come and he’d sneeze and sneeze and sneeze. He recalls: Oregon, in a rainy patch. It had been a relief to wash all the yellow pollen away with the weekly downpour. Another thing about Oregon, he’d had a best friend there. A girl. 

Huh. He tries to tuck his smile away, but it comes through like the sun through clouds. Sam looks dumb, doesn’t he? Some goofball pacing around a parking lot and smiling to himself. 

After about ten minutes, maybe more, his pace slows. The scenery is getting too humid. He wants to roll back into bed, into those cool sheets. 

“Sammy? Is that you?” 

Sam kicks his shoes off into the dirty corner. Dean’s left a bootprint on the floor there. If Sam was looking for a fight, he’d say something. “It’s me.” 

“You got a call. Someone left a voicemail. For you.” 

His voice is sharp, pounding hail on cement. “A call?” Sam replies dumbly.

Dean nods his head over to the answering machine. “I’ll put it on for you.” 

Sam’s heart begins to slow to a rolling stretch of highway. The cars moving across it are few and far between and his breath is short and dangerous. 

“Sammy?” The effusive warmth dies down after the nickname, realizing Dean’s heard it through. The voicemail, the nickname. “You gave me this number the other day. Outside the Jewel Osco?” 

He laughs. It crackles over the phone in a friendly way. Friendly the way he kissed tiny little butterflies onto Sam’s collarbones, the way his house was cool in the summer night. 

“I guess you’re a big-time developer and all so I’m not sure if you even care. But I have the jacket you left with me? The other night?” 

He clears his throat. “If you want it back, you can drop by.” The voicemail ends. 

“You leave your jacket at your friend’s house, Sammy? Come on, it’s just like you’re little again. You want me to pick it up for you?” 

Sam realizes two things: Dean hasn’t caught what the message means, and Sam wishes he would have. 

“Dean?” 

“Mmm?” 

Sam has never been able to cry with dry eyes. He can’t hide the shaky undercurrent to his voice. His eyelids feel like cement but he keeps staring at Dean. A flush of fear is blooming high on his cheeks. 

“Me and that guy, we’re not just friends. Or whatever.” 

Sam went calling for information, at his house. Said he was a real estate developer, even though the back of his neck went red with the obvious lie. The suit was cheap and he was young. He’d gotten the information and then this guy, his name is Jude, had kissed him. Sam left the suit jacket there. He’s glad he’s getting it back, all things considered. 

He still doesn’t know what possessed him to hand over his number after buying peanut butter and sandwich bread two days later. A crack in his self control, maybe. 

“What do you mean…” Dean isn’t making jokes, at least. Sam squints hard at the floor. His head feels like a matchbox. Being struck over and over again. His headache is back, erupting with a vengeance. 

“Sam, is it something- Dad did? Is it something I did? To make you, uh.” 

Sam shakes his head, sighing deeply. He wants to be a bitch about it and spit out something sarcastic. “What do you think you could have done?” 

Dean shakes his head. Murmurs, “I don’t know,” almost that Sam can’t hear him. “I guess you’re the type, though, Sammy.” Sam knows what he means by that. “As long as you don’t go around falling in love with some starry eyed dude. We still have to find Dad.” 

“About that. Don’t tell him.” Sam pointedly raises his eyebrows. Dean doesn’t have a great record of choosing- choosing him, his secrets that he keeps tight in his fists. He doesn’t have a record of letting any opportunity to be a good son slip by. 

“Sure, sure.” Dean frowns. “Hey, what about Jess? Did you lead some poor chick on up until-” 

“Shut the fuck up.” Sam’s hands are suddenly shaking. Dean leans back. He’s not the shrinking type, his shoulders stay up and guarded. “I’m not gay, I’m- I’m something else. Both, you know?” The inside of his cheek is bitten raw, he can taste the fleshier bits coming alive. 

“I don’t think that’s how it works, Sammy.” 

The telling was easy; now it’s muddier. Sam wades in anyway. “Who here is the expert, you or me?” The sick dread has risen in his stomach and is now lapping at his sodden brain, pulling him under. It’s hot as hell out but he pulls the blankets over his legs. 

“Sorry. Bad take.” 

“I loved her-” Dean doesn’t like hearing about Jess and Sam cuts himself off. 

“Never mind. I’m going to go get more beer.” Dean leaves. 

Sam looks between the ugly green blankets, the TV still on, the white, unearthly light seeping in through every crack. When he told Jess, she lit up with it, went on to ask him questions, run her fingers through his shower-damp hair and let him talk. 

Dean bursts through the door. “Sammy, I really do want to say- thank you for telling me. You wanna talk about it more, we can go get your girly coffee drink and we can talk about whatever.” 

The aimless tears in Sam’s eyes finally come to the surface. “Oh, come on,” Sam groans. “You don’t have to act like I’m that-” 

Dean interrupts him. “Here, Sammy. Here. The way I see it, you’re like Chandler Bing now.” 

Sam blinks at him. “Dean, he’s not-” 

“Well, maybe not in the show, but everyone knows he’s gay anyway. You’re like Chandler Bing. If you want to go with me and get a coffee, uh, tell me about the guy action you got at Stanford, I’ll be your Joey.” 

Sam swipes the back of his hand across his eyes. If tears were blood he would look like a murder victim. Dean approaches him nervously. “Seriously.” He wrestles Sam into a tight hug, holding him for a long few minutes. 

“Do we still have painkillers around? I have a headache.” The walls (brown wood and decades out of date) are no longer closing in on him under oppressive heat and thoughts of Jess. Dean isn’t mad. Just- just Dean. 

Life returns to normal.