#not without fully separating myself from what used to be my safe space!! AND EVEN OUTSIDE OF THAT. AT WORK.

[authenticcadence18]

I miss the days when I didn’t know the very silly thing that has wreaked havoc on my mental health existed🫠

[mommyownsmee]

I can feel it deep inside of my soul, an almost primal longing, one that transcends the physical need for proximity.

I need your touch.

It's a desire to connect, not just with our bodies, but with the essence of what is just you.

Your touch can speak when words fall short. It carries comfort, understanding, and affection that no conversation could ever capture, like an invisible thread that pulls us closer despite distance.

It’s almost mind wrecking how much I crave it. I crave you, the touch of your fingertips against the heat of my skin. The feeling of your hands wandering across my body, teasing and pinching and caressing just the way you know I enjoy. Your fingers pushing past any barrier that keeps us from being fully connected and finally feeling you so very deep inside of me, caressing my insides in a soothing rhythm.

Oh I need your touch.

Your touch lingers like a memory, whispering across my skin even when you’re not near. It’s an echo that resonates long after you’re gone, a phantom sensation that refuses to fade. It’s not just the brush of your fingertips or the press of your body against mine—it’s the warmth of your very existence that fills the spaces I didn’t even realize were empty. You are more than a presence; you are a force, an energy that seeps into my bones and takes root in my soul. The echo of your fingertips haunts me, a ghostly reminder of how desperately I need you, how deeply I crave you, how impossible it is to forget you.

When the distance between us grows, it’s not just miles that separate us; it’s the ache of absence, the slow suffocation of longing. I feel it like a weight pressing down on my chest, an invisible tether pulling me toward you even when you’re out of reach. My pulse quickens at the mere thought of you—your breath, your scent, the warmth of your skin against mine. The craving is relentless, a hunger that gnaws at the edges of my sanity, turning into an ache so raw, so primal, that no words could ever truly satisfy it. Nothing but you will ever be enough.

I long for the heat of your breath against my neck, for the delicate, lingering touch of your lips tracing patterns only you know—silent sonnets written in warmth, in desire, in love. Your hands know me in ways no one else ever could, as if they were sculpted just to hold me, just to explore every curve, every hollow, every unspoken secret my body holds. You leave no part of me untouched, no part of me unloved, and in that sacred, intimate knowing, you awaken something in me that only you have ever reached.

I crave the weight of your gaze, the way your eyes strip me bare, peeling away the layers I’ve built around myself until there is nothing left but truth. In that moment, I am unguarded, exposed, yet never afraid—because your touch is more than physical. It is a promise, a vow spoken without words, a silent declaration that I am seen, that I am wanted, that I am yours.

When your fingertips trace the outline of my body, it’s not just my skin that shivers beneath your touch—it’s something deeper, something unnameable. It’s as if you are mapping the very contours of my heart, memorizing the places where I break, where I bloom, where I come alive in your hands. Each caress is a conversation, a confession of vulnerability wrapped in the language of touch. You know my weaknesses, my fears, my deepest desires, and with every gentle press of your hand, you tell me what words never could: that I am safe. That I am needed. That I am wanted.

The anticipation of your touch is electric, a slow-burning fire that crackles in the space between us, setting the air alive with an unspoken need. I want to drown in the sensation of you, to lose myself in the way you make me feel—wild and free, reckless and whole. The simple brush of your fingers against my skin is enough to set my soul ablaze, to ignite a passion that only you can tame, only you can quench.

I want you pressed against me, your heartbeat merging with mine until there is no space left between us, no separation between where I end and you begin. Your hands, moving with a hunger that mirrors my own, grasping, holding, claiming me as if you, too, cannot bear the thought of letting go. In your arms, there is no past, no future—only this moment, this connection, this intoxicating, undeniable truth.

Every caress speaks louder than any promise. You are more than a touch—you are my lifeline, my anchor, the force that pulls me back from the abyss of longing and reminds me what it means to be alive. You shatter the emptiness with the simple press of your skin against mine, with the unspoken vow that lingers in every touch, every glance, every breath we share.

I need you. Not just the way your touch sets me on fire, but the way your presence soothes the storm inside me. I need the way you make me feel—cherished, known, unraveled and put back together in the same heartbeat. It’s not just a desire for your body, but a craving for the connection that binds us, electric and undeniable, written into my very existence.

And when you finally pull me close, erasing the distance between us, I feel it—wholeness. Completion. The sensation of every broken, aching part of me being healed in your arms. Your touch doesn’t just satisfy my longing—it restores me, piece by piece, breath by breath. In your arms, I am not just loved.

I am home.

[nonstandardrepertoire]

as a Jewish transsexual, the Jewish ethno-nationalist¹ sales pitch has always left me cold.² over and over again, i've heard people plugging the State of Israel offer some form of the following: "history teaches that we can never fully trust non-Jews with political power to protect Jews; the only way to make sure Jewish people are always safe is to create and maintain a state where Jewish people have the political power, so we can look out for ourselves"

but the thing is, the worst transphobic harassment i've experienced in my life has come from Jews. i don't think this says anything about the relative transphobia of Jews vs non-Jews, anymore than the fact that most of my birthday presents come from New Yorkers says anything about the relative generosity of Californians, but still. the people who followed me out of the subway filming me while yelling transphobic abuse were Jewish. two of the most relentless boosters of the current wave of transphobia in the US — Ben Shapiro and Chaya Raichik — are Jewish. i should be safe in a state run by such people?

and the obvious response is to say that, well, this is about keeping me safe as a Jew, not necessarily as an anything else. it's a bulwark against anti-Jewish violence, not every other -ism under the sun.³ but the thing is, i'm not a potato-head person. you can't just snap off the trans part of me and the Jewish part of me and say the latter part is safe even when the first isn't. i'm 100% Jewish and 100% trans; if i'm not safe as a transsexual, i'm not safe as a Jew. and if i'm going to be having to fight transphobia anyway, what difference does it make if the people passing bills stripping my rights are Jews or not?⁴

if you really lean into the logic at play here — "no one outside a vulnerable demographic can be trusted to care about people in that demographic" — it's easy to wind up in absurdity. because if i can't trust goyim to have my back as a Jew and also can't trust cis people to have my back as a transsexual, perhaps i need a state run by and for Jewish transsexuals. but wait! white Jewish transsexuals are certainly regularly horrible to, eg, Black Jewish transsexuals, so we probably shouldn't be in the same state together, to say nothing of separating out the poor, the disabled, those without college degrees . . . and before you know it, you're committed to the idea that the only just world is one where we're each a state unto ourselves, perfectly safe in absolute isolation from one another — no society, no coming together across difference to lighten the burden of living, just infinite atomization, the perfect unending unwinnable war of all against all

and this, i think, reveals the fundamental futility of the project. as a transsexual, i don't think my safety will ultimately come from removing myself from people not like me. safety, i think, comes not from cutting ties, but from building them. i will only really be safe in a society that accepts difference, multiplicity, strangeness, variety. i will only be truly safe in a society where we come together — across the gulfs that separate us — to take care of one another

i think there are illuminating parallels with feminist/lesbian separatism here. in its most extreme versions, such separatism abandons the demand that women be safe around men and instead attempts the task of building a space without men for women to inhabit. similarly, it seems to me that Jewish ethno-nationalism abandons the demand that Jewish people be safe around goyim and instead attempts to build a space without goyim for Jewish people to inhabit.⁵ i think Jews can and must be safe among goyim. i think women can and must be safe among men. i think trans people can and must be safe among cis people. that is the kind of world i am committed to fighting for, not one where we give in to fear and retreat into gardens walled by suspicion and hostility⁶

i'm not going to pretend that that's an easy world to build.⁷ i'm not going to pretend i can point to a bunch of stable, just, pluralistic societies and go "eh, just do what they did!" (altho there's no shortage of societies i can point to that went the "this place is for us and only us" route and wound up producing dystopian nightmares⁸). i'm not even going to pretend that i think building a just world from where we are now is inevitable, or even that i always think it is possible. there are days it is very hard to believe. but i always think it's worth striving for. if a just world that guarantees a good life to all isn't worth striving for, what is? if we are to suffer defeat, let it be a slow defeat, a long defeat, a fighting defeat. i am not willing to give up on my neighbors. i am not willing to abandon the charge of seeking the good for those not like me. i am not willing to abandon the hope that will seek the good for me despite my strangeness to them. and i reject any philosophy or politics that asks me to do so

_________________________________________________

¹i'm using "Jewish ethno-nationalist" here because i think it's been subject to less semantic dilution than "Zionist", and i want to avoid semantic arguments here as much as possible. whatever prescriptivist arguments you want to marshal that this or that term should mean X, i think it's clear that the descriptivist ship has long since set sail when it comes to "Zionism". (when pushed for specifics, i've seen self-professed Zionists and anti-Zionists outline essentially identical political programs, which certainly makes it seem to me that these terms are of minimal utility at best)

²obviously, what's happening on the ground is very bad. but critiquing what's happening on the ground often runs into severe questions of evidential reliability and can also leave the impression that Jewish ethno-nationalism is a good idea implemented badly, which is why i want to take aim at this level here

³given the European origins of this movement in its modern incarnation, i think it's unsurprising who gets imagined as "just a Jew" and not any other marked category. and from there, i think it's also unsurprising (if depressing) how various Jews who do exist in other marked categories have been and are treated by the "Jewish State" — the promised safety turns out to be predicated on all the usual axes of whiteness, wealth, ability, and so on

⁴indeed, i have often found that groups predicated on the idea that "we're all in alignment here" are often much more resistant to acknowledging members' various bigotries than groups not predicated on that assumption

⁵and, similarly, this attempt to cleave the world along one axis of hierarchy invariably reveals the inadequacy of one-identity-only frameworks for tackling the full complexity of the world. among other things, feminist/lesbian separatism has come under sustained critique from Black feminists like Barbara Smith for sundering ties of solidarity that are critical for fighting racism. victimhood and oppression are not fixed, ontological states, but fluid, shifting, contextual relationships. we cannot undo the snarlingly intertwined systems of oppression by replicating them in miniature

⁶the fear is certainly a real emotion; it is one i have felt at times myself. sometimes it is even based on an accurate perception of the world! but also: sometimes not. my fear of kitchen knives spontaneously levitating and flying around the room certainly feels real to me, but it's not a thing that can actually happen. one of the really hard things to do in the world, i've found, is parsing out the fears that are just feelings i'm having from the fears that tell me actual actionable information about the world and then striking a livable balance between reasonable precaution and paranoia. precautions against danger often come with their own set of risks: locking a door to keep out potential thieves ups the odds of being trapped in a building fire; using a different complex password for every site raises the risk of forgetting one and having a critical account shut down; the medications that drastically cut the frequency of debilitating migraines can raise the likelihood of other adverse health effects. more broadly, viewing neighbors with suspicion, fear, and distrust has a corrosive effect on the social fabric, and makes it harder to structure society to make sure everyone has food, clothes, housing, healthcare — all the things a society is supposed to do. (it's hard to convince people to take care of people they're afraid of, especially if they believe (rightly or wrongly) that they will have to give up something they care about (usually money, but also convenience, prestige, power) for that to happen.) and that corrosive effect can get very extreme — when fascism wants to recruit you to its cause, the sales pitch is usually less "hey, do you want to unleash horrific violence against those folks over there?" and more "hey, aren't you tired of being ~afraid~? don't you want to feel ~safe~? isn't it about time you had all the wealth, respect, and power that's rightfully yours and that's been kept from you for so long?". fear isn't the only way that horrors get unleashed, but it's a very potent one. (i don't think there's a formula for striking the right balance here. as with so many balancing acts, too much comes down to context and the specifics of all those involved, not least because the scale and nature of threats can vary so wildly. i believe that everyone deserves to be safe (insofar as any of us mostly hairless apes clinging to a thin crust of dirt on an iron ball whirling thru the cosmic void around a sphere of nuclear fire can be safe from loss, grief, accident, disaster, or misfortune...), but being and feeling are different matters, and pursuing the feeling of safety without limit can easily lead to logics of annihilation.) (and indeed, i am not the first to be struck by the fact that in many ways it is in the interests of the State of Israel, as a state, if Jews feel unsafe in the rest of the world, because that feeling of unsafety is so easily leveraged to both increase political support for the State of Israel and encourage Jewish people to leave the Diaspora and move to the State of Israel. which, unnervingly, is where you sometimes find the State of Israel and its agents taking the position that Jews don't belong anywhere that isn't the immediate environs of Jerusalem, a position that is ultimately indistinguishable from any number of dime-store Judeophobias)

⁷indeed, i think this is one of many places where it's easier to identify the problem than it is to solve it. many middle schoolers can explain the problem of Fermat's Last Theorem; barely a handful of professional mathematicians in the world could explain the proof. my cat can figure out how to break a vase even tho he can't reliably find a toy he's just been playing with when he's sitting directly on top of it (it's fine, he doesn't follow me on here, i can say that about him); in some cases, a skilled artisan can repair the vase so it functions again; no one in the world can turn back time so that the vase was never broken to begin with. it's easy to invent chessboard solutions to entrenched societal conflicts — move this border here, enact this constitution there, change this societal attitude for all involved, and hey presto!, utopia. but the world is not a game of chess. education, advocacy, activism, political organization, even wildcat direct action — these are all slow, effortful, uncertain processes, and everyone with a different vision of the future is also exercising their agency to change the course of events. i think societies are easy to break and hard to repair. in many cases, i don't really know how we go from here, the real world as it actually is with all its shattered bones and aching wounds and long-festering resentments, to there, a world of true justice. but i think it's worth trying. i think it's worth imagining. i hope you do too

⁸like, idk what even to say if "Germany for the Germans" doesn't set off alarm bells. even if they raised up a brand new continent from the ocean floor, i still think i'd be wary of the political project of building a ~Jewish state for the Jews~. i don't trust nationalism of any flavor. i think the Diasporic notion of feeling kinship with and responsibility for people all around the world regardless of borders, flags, kings, bureaucracies is beautiful and worth cherishing and protecting. i don't dream of finally being on top of the hierarchy; i dream of there not being a hierarchy to begin with

[snarltoothed]

Its pathetic how you're trans exclusionary and also bisexual & agender. Do you think that if transphobia continues they're not coming for you next? You think you're safe from being called a freak or a pedophile or from being accused of invading other people's spaces? From legislation and the dominant social paradigm othering you and making your life hell? You think throwing others under the bus will save you? You're a fucking coward and I hope you get a sense of reality.

i totally forgot that you even sent this ask because guilt-tripping from random strangers really doesn’t faze me — sorry!

anyways, umm, it’s pathetic how you’re sending random feminists hate mail over something that is literally not even true! i fully include trans and nonbinary people within my feminism — just not transwomen and nonbinary males because i believe female people of any gender still face challenges, discrimination, and oppression directly related to the sex we were born as!

…which wait, before you tell me intersex people exist, i know that! but intersex disorders are medically sex-specific and binary, and in the extremely rare case that a chromosomal male was born and grew up with entirely female external genitalia (usually as a result of Sweyer syndrome), i’m fully open to nuance when it comes to their inclusion within the radical feminist movement, especially given that the trans/qu**r movement has repeatedly ignored the requests of both individual intersex people and intersex organizations to stop equating the trans and intersex experience. it’s not like they can turn to you guys for any actual understanding or compassion.

in my LGB advocacy, trans people are also not excluded based on their gender identity! the only people excluded from my LGB advocacy are heterosexuals — which yes, i’m sorry, i do live in the real world where sexuality is based on actual physical sex, so yeah… “transbians” and “gay transmascs” are generally excluded (those open to or exclusively T4T aside) on the basis that they do not experience same sex attraction. but if you’re not straight, congratulations! my LGB advocacy is also for you.

the “agender woman” in my bio is also mostly a joke, “agender” more as in “atheist” — i do not subscribe to the belief system of gender. although, if i did, that’s probably still how i would describe myself because even if i thought that innate gender identity was a thing for other people, i don’t have one. i don’t identify with femininity. i do identify with my lived experience of being female. idk how else i would explain that in your community without being scalped, lol. and it’s poking a little bit of fun at my teenage self for actually genuinely telling the more micro-label oriented of my peers that the best i could describe myself was as a “demibisexual agender girl”.

if anything, though, the people standing in my way of being freely truly agender and living as a woman are BOTH conservatives and the trans/qu**r movement, because i really don’t want to have to have an ideological argument with either of you about what the fuck my leg hair means, i don’t want to be assigned a non-woman for having body hair and not being extremely feminine by EITHER of you! you are both supporting a dominant social paradigm which others me and women like me, it’s only the way in which you shame me and make me feel like a freak that differs.

i’m fully aware how the American political parties have lumped very separate issues into the same bills and are practicing other nefarious political schemes to remove womens’, childrens’, and LBG peoples’ rights by using the decrease in public support of the trans/qu**r movement to pass bills and laws that otherwise wouldn’t be passed… because y’all keep supporting fucking pedophiles? maybe stop doing that or if you personally aren’t, tell your buddies that trans people can be horrific criminals, just like any other subset of people, because all individuals are different, and murderers and rapists and pedophiles don’t deserve public support even if they’re trans. the fact that the most vocal of the trans community keep defending and supporting convincted pedophiles, rapists, and other dangerous violent criminals simply on the basis that they are trans is a large part of WHY many of us “cis” LGB people are publicly separating ourselves from the TQ+, we know how bad that shit looks and have historically condemned the members of our own communities who have been revealed to be pedophiles and rapists. not to mention the fact that the heterosexual TQs are like, wildly homophobic.

pretending outright that trans people cannot be violent criminals is something that can and rightfully should be criticized — i would criticize the assertion that any protected minority class status makes a person immune to any sort of violent criminology, or otherwise not deserving of facing consequences for committing violent crime, especially sexual violence against children, including the minority classes i belong to. i’m certainly not against trans people recieving proper legal defense, and i believe trans people deserve the same presumption of innocence as anyone else until proven guilty in a court of law… and while i do not believe males belong in female prisons (as inmates OR staff, tbh), i do believe that prisons in general are in desperate need of reform and that that reform should be considerate of the needs of vulnerable male populations such as transwomen and gay men for safety from other men while also maintaining female-only prisons.

i don’t know what you expect me, a poor & disabled woman living in a northern democrat-controlled state, to do about the shady shit happening in Florida and elsewhere in the American south. i’m not even in a position to vote on anything that could be considered “throwing other people under the bus”. the biggest things i’ve voted for were keeping the state democratic, legalizing weed, and protecting the right to abortion. i’m sooo politically evil and throwing so many people under the bus and totally perpetuating a genocide… which i guess if you’re a conservative you could say about the fetuses, but, since you’re barking up my tree for siding with conservatives, i’m hoping that you’re at least fucking pro-choice.

I’m not trying to be mean here, but you kinda came up in my inbox being mean first… so frankly I think you’re the coward for not thinking independently and for needing to harass women who do, and I hope YOU gain some sense of reality, as well as empathy and nuance.

[izzyiswizzy]

It’s been 2 years since it was last updated, yet I’m here again!

Tumblr always was a safe space for me and I guess it will remain the same, even with the passage of time. Something about the idea that people you know and care about are unlikely to find your page and read your posts seems borderline appealing to me. Okay, let’s make a little update on my life, rewind and think bout how we got here.

First of all, I’m 20 now. On January 2022, here I posted a story of how I tried to get my shit together and pass IELTS exam without adequate prep, well I ended up scoring 7.0 even tho I could do at least 7.5 but 10 days of prep prolly weren’t enough and that’s totally ok, I was still so excited and grateful and then the uni application season began! I applied to several schools, Anglo-American uni in Prague, KIMEP in Almaty, some public uni in village-like town in Poland the name of which I don’t even recall, even freaking community colleges in the States, then I return to my hometown and my mum proposes an offer to go to Istanbul to see some unis there. I was like, why not, cause at the time I was fully confused and not ready to deal with emotional separation and the idea to go and live overseas and to catch a cold there felt diabolical and scared the shut out of me. Istanbul seemed like the smartest option with convenient flights that last 2-3h and pretty normal prices (almost the same as most European ones as I found out later). So, we get there 2-3 days later, land there, check in, fall asleep to the sound of chaos and wake up to go shopping. The day after we go to Medipol university, our first location, to see what even unis are in Ist. We took the bus, the ride was kinda exhausting cause your girl was using bus for like 3rd time in her life but it was so worth it. Me, my dad and mum enter the uni, it was an open house day, strangely enough. Then I see that uni and I’m like: “Seems like it was designed in a sophisticating manner and even has Starbucks on the entrance floor, I’m in.” That’s it. Starbucks was a normal coffee shop for me at the time, the whole Palestinian thing hasn’t started yet and times were more or less peaceful.

A week later we come back to Atyrau, Kz and I start preparing all the documents required for application. Then I get in. Then we buy tickets and the remaining month before leaving for studying I spend in my hometown, mostly by taking care of myself, working on my hobbies and hanging out with my local friends. It was August, or September, now I don’t know, when me and my friend were supposed to meet in a cafe near my place and I was a bit late so I walked there and when I entered the cafe I saw someone sitting across from my friend. We greeted each other with my friend and he introduced me to this guy who was acting really nonchalant and chill, even apathetic in some way. Then, I don’t know how but we became really good friends. I guess it was that my original friend texted me after they drove me home and said that this guy asked for my number. I was like yeah, why not. After that, we started hanging out more and there were periods when I was ghosting him and we stopped talking for many months, but even now we talk. That’s also a lesson, people you meet, you meet them randomly, maybe the moment you were in a rush getting ready to have a chat and an iced latte is the moment this guy bumped into your friend and decided to go to the cafe with him and this exact moment was just meant to be without you guys realising. I do believe in fate, I do believe in chance, so I guess it was just it. And I adore this mf!

Also, when I was 18, I first started dating a guy. No, not the one I met in a cafe. I will not dive into details cause it’s kinda pointless but basically it was a positive experience. I would even rate it, as if I used ordinal data, very good. Why not excellent? Cause we weren’t meant to be, that’s the missing point. This guy is kinda older tho, wanted to marry, when I say marry I mean quickly, he wanted me to be this traditional woman which I kinda am but without being too into it lmao. Like, ok man, I do adore traditional values and want men to be gentlemen and open doors for women and go to war and build architectural wonders and women be nurturing mothers and drive their children to the kindergarten, educate them and be a soft and loving wife but BRO I was 18 at the time. Why will you even tell me that. 2 years do make a difference and that’s the best thing. I want a career, I mean, I’m working on it. But I do believe that being a mother is beautiful and it’s like a natural function that you do experience if you consent and it’s fucking beautiful. And ofc, it ruins your health to some extent, depending on many factors, so you need to rest and not work your 9 to 5 in the office or with some toxic bitches. So yeah, I guess after all years of reevaluating my beliefs I came to the conclusion, I’m a traditional woman, for Fuck’s Sake.

Also, my fingers are tired of typing so I guess it’s time to wrap up. Let’s call it a day for today. I’m really happy that I started using this page again cause honestly, I love to talk about my life just like everyone does. So, if someone is even reading it, wishing you peaceful time full of positive energy and success. Be good to yourself and to others, bye!

[tiffanytoms]

Now that I know you like to play...inviting you to the partyyyyyyy : D

🤔 Writing often involves personal reflection and self-exploration. How do you navigate the line between memoir and fiction in your work?

❤️💜🧡💛💚💙

Thank you ☺️ I’ll be sure to answer them all over the next few days!

This is a very interesting question, bc I definitely have noticed that this is not everyone’s outlook, and thinking this way has gotten me in trouble, but I personally see reality and fan fiction stories as entirely separate entities. I like writing things that are complicated, and messy, or sometimes even toxic! I find those things fascinating, even if I know I don’t want them in my real life. What you write and read does not have to reflect what you’re into or even what you want the world to look like. No way! Otherwise there would only be happy fluff books being written, and that would be very boring. An example I love to use is I love reading and writing rough sex. I think that’s a fun fantasy! Does that mean I actually like doing it? Hell no, but my fantasy can stay right there, in the land of make believe hurting absolutely no one. And this is a notion that I will always defend wholeheartedly: fan fiction should be a safe space for ppl to explore whatever topics and subjects they want to! That’s exactly the point bc it isn’t real! Like I know that some ppl must think that I’m secretly in a BDSM relationship bc I wrote one and that tickles me 😅 (And would tickle anyone who knew me IRL, as I really do have a prudish reputation 🤷‍♀️)

That being said, do I sometimes use lines from my life, or put my characters in scenarios I myself may have experienced? Absolutely! I don’t think of that as ‘memoir-esque’ though bc I see my version** of these characters so clearly in my head, that how they react to those words or the situation is vastly different than I would/did. It’s how I try to make my stories have realistic aspects without feeling like I’m actually telling a bunch of strangers on the internet my actual story 😉 But, in that same vein, it actually blew my mind when I said I sometimes use my husband’s best lines in my dialogue, and I got a response saying something along the lines of “isn’t it weird we’re all falling in love with your husband?” bc no! You’re not! You don’t even know my husband and having Lily say one line he once did, in an entirely different context, in a completely different relationship, at a different age, in a magical school, doesn’t suddenly make her my husband! Fiction!!! 🤣

Ha. Sorry, you probably didn’t want such a long answer, but this is something I think of a lot and find it pretty fascinating how different ppl think about these fun little stories we write.

**I said my version of these characters bc it’s actually a pet peeve of mine when someone says “so and so character wouldn’t do that” about 2 characters who were dead for an entire book series. James and Lily are SO fully open to interpretation, and another author’s interpretation and mine could both be vastly different, but they could both be right 🤷‍♀️ Like, we’ll honestly never know. So I don’t like it when ppl take ownership of them, bc none of us own them. We can only write them the way we want to 😊

And don’t get me started on how ppl can interpret them the same way, but how the circumstances in the story have changed how they react to things… like there are just so many factors that go into how someone behaves, and I just really love exploring that 😁

[vvitchering]

32. “I think I’m in love with you and I’m terrified.” for bobadin?

This is my first time writing for this ship and my second time writing Boba so I am FEAR (TM) but I think I actually like the way this came out?????

~ It’s been a month and a half since the beroya had come to stay at the palace. Six since the loss of his child and his creed. Boba doesn’t like to think about what Din had been doing to himself in the time between handing his son over to the jetii and when Boba had finally managed to track him down halfway across the galaxy. He hadn’t known Din long at that point, but anyone could have seen the defeat and hopelessness in his posture and demeanor. 

If Boba had taken any longer to find him, he isn’t sure there would have been much left to find.

Given purpose once again as a hunter and personal guard for the usurper king of Tattooine, Din is flourishing. Now, Boba counts on him almost as much as he does on Shand. She may be his right hand, but Din is as close to clan, aliit, as either of them are going to get and that means something to Boba. They’re both orphans, survivors from a scattered culture; and in every word of mando’a they speak to each other, every nostalgic smile, every instance of innate understanding, they grow a little closer. 

Things have been going well, possibly too well, suspiciously well. So while it isn’t a complete shock when Din begins to pull away again, it still hurts. They haven’t shared a meal in days. The mats laid out for combat practice have gone unused. Din hovers at the edge of Boba’s vision when he absolutely must make an appearance and he all but evaporates like a desert breeze the second he’s no longer needed. 

Din begins to stay out on hunts for longer stretches of time. He reports the relevant details on his return and disappears again until he’s summoned. His absence burns like acid but Boba tries to give him his space. He doesn’t know what he’s done to offend the man, but it’s clear there’s been a shift in their relationship and if he doesn’t want to lose the wayward beroya yet again, he’s going to have to do something soon.

He gets his chance one afternoon after he’s yelled at his court to disperse and he’s made his way to the chambers they use for exercise and weapon storage. Din is already there, moving through his forms, beskar spear in hand. His movements grow stiff and unnatural the moment he realizes he has company and Boba feels the last of his restraint snap.

“Do you have some issue with me all of a sudden?” he asks. Din flinches like he’s been struck. 

“Have I offended you in some way? Made you feel uncomfortable or unwelcome?”

Din fidgets with the spear and shifts his weight from foot to foot as if he’s debating making a break for it. Boba frowns. He’s never pressured Din to go helmetless, he knows he finds a certain kind of comfort and familiarity in keeping that part of himself intact, but he finds himself wishing for the umpteenth time that Din trusted him enough to remove it in his company. 

Right now, it feels like just another impenetrable barrier between them.

“No, it’s not that.” Din finally responds, tilting his head as he speaks in that curious way of his.

Boba moves closer, motioning for Din to continue. They’re having this discussion, no matter how much Din looks like he’d rather take off running. Whatever he’s hiding, it’s hurting them both and Boba can’t, won’t, stand for it any longer. He’s come to value Din’s companionship in a way he’s quickly realizing is frighteningly irreplaceable. The thought of losing it permanently sends cold shivers up and down his spine in a way nothing else ever has. 

Boba sets his jaw. Despite the avoidance techniques Din has been favoring lately, he is still Mandalorian, as is Boba. They will clean the air as their kind have done for centuries. 

Boba lunges. 

The attack catches Din completely off guard and they fall to the mat covered floor with a muffled clatter. Din loses his grip on the spear and it rolls away out of his reach. He struggles under Boba’s weight in a weak attempt to avoid being pinned down, but Boba has him just where he wants him. He leans almost his full weight onto Din’s chest, keeping him down, and presses his forearm into Din’s throat. He takes care not to press too hard; he wants to subdue and restrain, not hurt. 

Din inhales raggedly but goes obligingly limp, unwilling to fight back. It’s like the fire that they’ve both worked so hard to kindle has left him again. Cold fear zings through Boba, mingling with the adrenaline from their short lived tussle and he feels sick to his stomach as he realizes this might be the last time he’s allowed this close to Din. 

“Tell me. Please.” He begs. And it is begging. How far the mighty Boba Fett has fallen, pleading with a no-name beroya from some backwater covert for forgiveness for some unknown slight. He’d fall even further if it meant he could keep Din by his side just a little longer. 

He can’t see Din’s eyes behind the dark of his visor, but he can feel the strength of his gaze. He can feel him tense again beneath him as he registers Boba’s pathetic pleading. There’s a moment of complete stillness before the world tilts and Boba gasps for breath as Din manages to swap their positions and slams him into the ground. It’s not gentle. There’s force in his movements, real intent, and Boba would sigh in relief if he hadn’t just had the air mercilessly knocked from his lungs.

“I have lost everything in my life that mattered to me,” Din begins, and his normally calm voice is edged in steel. “My home. My family, twice over. Everything I had left fit inside a storage locker in my ship and that’s gone, too.” 

“You’re not the only one who’s lost things, Din.” Boba reminds him gently.

Din laughs miserably. He’s shaking slightly, Boba can feel the tremors where Din is pressed against him. 

“Sometimes I think I’m cursed.” Din says quietly. “I never get to keep anything important. My creed, my ship, the kid, everything I loved...” He trails off, viciously biting off what sounds like the beginning of a sob.

Din’s hold on Boba loosens significantly as he falls apart and Boba takes the opportunity to grasp at Din’s wrists, gripping them lightly but securely. He’s not great with words and even less so with comfort, but he can do this at least. He can anchor Din, help him weather the storm he’s fighting through, and see him safely back to shore.

“I pulled away because I thought if I ended this myself before it turned into anything it might hurt less than waiting for something to come along and end it for me. Cut something out of my life on my own terms for once, you know? Couldn’t do it, though.”

“Din--”

“Ne’johaa, I’m not finished.”

Boba swallows his interruption and stares up at Din pointedly. 

Go on. Get to the point of all this. 

Din takes a measured breath and then lets it go. 

“I think I’m in love with you and I’m terrified. I don’t want you to be another thing I lose. I won’t survive it. Not again.”

“Oh. Is that all?”

“Is that all...Boba--”

“Now it’s your turn to shut up. C’mere.”

Boba shifts his grip to hold Din by the forearm with one hand while the other slides up over Din’s shoulder to pull him down by neck. Their helmets clink together at their foreheads and the sound echoes through the chamber. Din makes a short shocked sound and throws his free hand down beside Boba’s head to support himself but makes no attempt to pull away. 

“I’ve lived through far more than my fair share of hardship in this life. You don’t get to look like I do without having survived some absolute shit situations.”

They’re separated by the metal of their helmets, but Boba would swear he can feel Din’s warmth seeping through.

“If this is something you want to pursue,” he continues, “I’m amenable to that. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere any time soon, verd’ika.”  

Din makes a strange wheezing noise somewhere between a sob and a laugh and sniffs loudly before collapsing slowly on top of Boba in an exhausted but relieved heap. 

“Not that I’m not enjoying you sprawled out on top of me like this, but do you think we could relocate to a more comfortable surface? A training mat isn’t exactly an ideal place for a cuddle.” 

“Trying to get me into bed already? You’re shameless.” Din laughs, clear and true, and it’s the sweetest sound Boba has heard in a long time.

--

Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this, do a writer a favor and reblog! Likes are nice, but they don’t get this story out there for more people to see. I’m also toying with the idea of putting this one up on my ao3. Thoughts?

mando’a words beroya - hunter Ne’johaa - shut up verd’ika - literally “little soldier”, used here as an affectionately insulting term of endearment as its usually used for little kids

(I really like Mando’a as a language, I think its fascinating, and writing a ship that consists of two Mandalorians gives me the perfect excuse to WAY over use it because I barely ever get to. I apologize for NOTHING. I wasn’t expecting this to be so long. I’m fully planning on coming back to this when I have fresh eyes and revising and editing some parts where the pacing feels a little off!)

[helena-thessa]

Hi Helena! Big fan of your writing here🥺♥️ Your rivamika fics are my safe space 😭 (if you have time to answer) i’d love to know when you first started shipping them, why, and what made you continue to love this ship (or anything else to do with your journey as an RM shipper)? i love your characterisation of both levi and mikasa individually, but even more so, your portrayal of their dynamic as a couple, which is why i wanted to ask so badly ☺️ x

Hey anon! Oh woah, first of all, thank you so much. Second of all, oh god, you probably shouldn't have handed me the mic. heh 😅

I’m afraid to look at the word count of this response, I’m sure it’s much more than you bargained for, but I appreciate the question and enjoyed thinking through my response (: Most importantly, I’m so glad you find my stories as a safe space. It’s really an honor. Thank you for sharing with me 🖤🖤

TL; DR As a longtime reader, writer and lover of stories and story-telling, by being someone who pays attention to how stories are crafted and deliberately developed from beginning to end, I sincerely thought Isayama was setting up rivamika as an endgame relationship. So, I read into and interpreted meaning out of ALL their interactions and became deeply invested.

I don’t necessarily ship them cause of the parallels, age gap, enemies to lover trope, height difference, or some of those common reasons and/or kinks. I’m more basic and boring than that. I love the concept of them coming together as though it’s inevitable.

They both are unbelievably strong, selfless, and have suffered so much loss— so, no one else could truly understand them as well as they can understand each other. They both probably would have always settled for a stable, simple life, and been alone and lonely even without realizing it— instead, they find each other, and realize what it means to actually no longer be alone, to do more than just survive. It’s this understated bond, as opposed to a dramatic and passionate romance, that I envision in them and that I love so much.

Then, the passion, heat, the romantic "spark"— I think that’s an added bonus, the cherry on top, the perfect final puzzle piece. They’re both so physically capable, can speak through their actions, and don’t show much need or capacity for emotional/ verbal communication, so the ability to connect with each other through physical intimacy and mind-blowing sex seems like another given.

Still, at the end of the day, for me it comes back to their ability to fully depend on each other, to the inevitability. Not like some soulmate trope where they 'have no choice' in it, but like the stars aligned to prove it's right. How each of them have only one other person on the whole planet who could see and understand them, to be on par with them, to make them realize there’s more to life than settling and surviving, and they happen to find it in each other.

You asked, I rambled 😅 Here’s a breakdown of my thought process in my rivamika journey. For those who make it to the end or want to skip to the end, I'll finish with the excerpt of the very first rivamika scene I felt compelled to to write.

I've tried before to re-watch and remember the exact scenes, exact moments, that initially captured my full attention, but I guess it was all of them, the gradual and cumulative compilation of their earliest interactions.

Mikasa always appearing cool and indifferent, and paying no attention whatsoever to others fawning over, like Jean initially falling for her, but then her strongly reacting over Levi in the courtroom showed how uniquely capable he was at getting under her skin.

Of course, the scene in the forest chasing the Female Titan was a critical one. I think of that as the first time both Levi and Mikasa were truly able to see the other's strength, mental and physical. And for them, orphans and trauma survivors who have suffered extensive loss, I think that seeing strength in another person made them feel less alone. Less alone in a deep, quiet but cataclysm, life-altering sort of way, even if not a romantic one. Like they didn't know it was something they didn't have, something they didn't expect to get from life, but then found it with each other.

(Even when we found out Levi was an Ackerman, I was disappointed if it meant they were immediate relatives, but willing to accept it wouldn't be a romantic end to loneliness, it would be a familial end to loneliness. But... the author never explored that. Not once.)

In that forest scene, manga and anime, the way that Levi pauses to really look and see Mikasa and think about who she is, what she’s gone through, and how strong and dedicated she is now— that was a defining moment. It was also a visual demonstration of Levi breaking character, from aloof and ruthless, to considering and curious. I thought Yams was showing both of them do that on purpose.

Then, Levi getting hurt because of Mikasa in that scene felt like another clue. Sure, it was while saving Eren, and sure, it could have been meant to humanize super-soldier Levi, or sure, it could have been another aspect of how Mikasa rushing into things over Eren ends up hurting other people that later changes in her character development, but it felt like a very pointed statement about Mikasa being a vulnerability for Levi. And that's swoon-worthy, right? Most of us have been exposed to and conditioned by stories about how special and romantic it is to be the one and only girl who can make an otherwise disinterested or unattainable guy actually pay attention to her, and so admittedly I fall right for it.

I’m sure I’m forgetting plenty, but the opening of season 3 felt like confirmation. When Levi figures out Kenny's behind things and entrusts Mikasa with instructions to share with the others, instructions about fighting people instead of titans that ultimately everyone else besides her struggles with, and when Mikasa lets Levi hold her back from chasing after Eren, her most important way of trusting and having faith in Levi, I honestly took that as cues from the author that rivamika was endgame. I let myself get truly invested from then on. That’s that understated bond I was referring to. To me, that unspoken but undeniable trust is the most important dynamic.

Seeing them fight together or fight similarly has always been fun and powerful and fulfilling.

I'm newer to the snk club. I was originally an anime-only fan and started watching in fall 2019, I think. I wasn't on tumblr, twitter, or anything else to see fandom discourse. So, I didn't know that the rooftop scene of Mikasa fighting Levi over the serum was such a staple for our ship until much later. I love the scene just like many do for all the reasons we do, but I don't think the actual scene was pivotal for me, so much as it's aftermath. I thought it represented two things.

One, it was an important marker in Levi's characterization. Hands-down one of the most striking scenes to me is the one where Levi is in the alley, somber and alone, listening in on Eren, Armin, and Mikasa talking together. It artfully shows his longing for hope and connection. So, when Levi chose Armin for the serum, that represented Levi choosing hope. And when Mikasa ultimately gave up fighting Levi and didn't choose Armin, which Armin finds out about later on, I see that as an important marker in Mikasa's development. It puts a wedge between her and Armin/Eren [Armin, because he knows she would have let him die, and Eren, because Armin is too special to him and he couldn't look at her the same way after realizing she would have let him die]. That distance between her and her childhood friends is one I don't think could ever be healed completely, one of those painful lessons in growing up. By doing that, it then also puts a distance in Mikasa's own childhood self to her current self. I thought that matured her and separated her out in a way that was another clue toward eventual rivamika developments.

That's a whole other conversation on Mikasa, but I’ll stay on track. Her love for Armin was absolutely authentic and fierce, but at the end of the day, at the core of her being, she chose survival over hope. Meanwhile, Levi chose hope over survival. To me, that was soft, fertile ground for the reasons why eventually, if/when Mikasa found hope and chose hope, that could directly tie together with her inevitably in coming together with Levi. Again, less butterflies and fireworks, but more natural and in a way that was just a given.

I wrote Beyond the Walls before reading the manga from the Marley Arc and on, so that's why most of that story is her journey into embracing that hope. *manga spoilers* There's a lot of meta, criticism and talk about Mikasa's silent, off-screen and subtle style of character development in the Marley Arc and afterward. I won't go down that road, I'm still processing the end of the manga to be honest, but I think it's fair to say she does eventually end up choosing hope over survival when she lets go of Eren and saves humanity instead. I love the “Stay with Me” line and think it’s perfect; a simple but profound display of trust and their deep-rooted bond in a really understated way. *end manga spoilers*

Here's something I always wanted to talk about in full but haven't. It honestly reads to me like Yams was building toward rivamika, and didn’t do anything to stop that until too late. There are tools authors can use to ensure we stop shipping a pair or start shipping a new one; love triangles are commonly used in every artistic medium and we’ve all been persuaded by these tools. But Yams didn’t use these tools to make sure readers didn’t feel convinced by rivamika. For all the reasons I listed above, more I'm forgetting, and for the following:

If he wanted us to think they were family and it would be incest, he should have added in a conversation between them realizing they were (close) family and that they weren't the only ones left in their biological family like they thought. But he didn't.

If he wanted us to think it was completely inappropriate between a child-and-adult and student-and-teacher, then he could have done something to ensure Mikasa looked childish or Levi looked older, but no. They barely look ten years apart. I do think it's unacceptable and that there's a power imbalance between a child-and-adult relationship regardless of that, and that there can't be true consent when one is a superior and another a subordinate, so I personally age-up Mikasa in my head and try to handle his position of power responsibly in my writings... but the point being, by the end of canon, there's no inappropriate or non-consensual romance between them, yet there's a lot of history and chemistry that could naturally lead to an age-appropriate and consensual relationship. If Yams didn't want us to think so, he could have made it more clear that there were reasons it wouldn't happen.

The only thing that makes sense to me is the author planned on rivamika endgame but was shamed/pressured out of it (either internally or due to others) OR that the author somehow accidentally created such vibrant chemistry and an incredible dynamic between them. Like, he didn't put enough convincing substance of eremika in, didn't make Levi look old enough, didn’t have one of them do something unforgivable in the other’s eyes, etc. Those are some of those tools he could have used. Romance was never a key component in snk. And since we now know Yams planned or needed eremika endgame for sake of plot and the conclusion of the manga, I personally think he didn't know what to do with the riveting rivamika substance and chemistry being much more convincing to readers. Once he had them so well built-up, maybe the only option he felt he had was to just stop putting the characters together. We get little-to-no rivamika interaction, platonic or practical, after season 3 all the way up until the very end. But there was so much of it beforehand ?? So, it simply doesn't make sense. I think the author just straight-up cut any and all interactions out between them because it was too convincing and moving, more convincing and substantial than eremika. But, as the end of canon shows, we needed to have some eremika buy-in. It's messy writing and unskilled in the romance department, but considering for how long and how complicated snk has been in a creative process and how lackluster the eremika romance (the main and apparently pivotal romance) is developed, I think it’s plausible to say the author effed up.

As far as writing fanfiction goes, there's just so much room to explore them. In canon, we aren't given enough insight into their individual perspectives, let alone their dynamic together, so it feels like a blank canvas to work from. I think that's part of why I love to write them, and also why I don't necessarily read much of them. When I first started shipping them while watching the anime, I read a few of the classics that were canon-verse, but I haven’t really read much since. For me, exploring and discovering them as a writer is the most fun. (It's one of the reasons Naruto and Harry Potter have such large fanfiction collections. There's so much world-building and so many characters, but there's also so much left to the imagination.)

In general, I'm drawn to strong characters, especially women, who are multidimensional enough to be real, vulnerable and soft. Mikasa is the pinnacle of that. I don’t necessarily like to write about her love or infatuation with Eren, but I do respect and admire and consider it integral to her character and her amazing capacity to love. We can have strong, kickass women who falter when it comes to love but are still considered strong for it. The two don’t have to be mutually exclusive and Mikasa is a beautiful example of that.

And Levi is strong, but real and vulnerable too; he’s honestly a fantastically developed character, from Petra explaining to Eren in the beginning how he’s not the amazing hero he’s painted to be to the public, to how Levi genuinely cares for Erwin and others and chooses hope despite all he’s suffered.

The end of the manga wrecked me a bit. Kind of like Games of Thrones. You have something that was so epic and well-done for so long, a rushed ending that isn't immediately sensical and isn't fulfilling is hard to stomach. Eventually, I'll move on from the denial of that and process what I think and feel about it. The whole reason we have fanfiction is to expand on canon, but it's made me put rivamika on the back burner until I figure it out. So I'm a little less hyper-fixated on the pairing right now even though interacting with you all and asks like this remind me what brought me here in the first place. 😊

To conclude, I’ll share that the very first rivamika content I wrote was a compilation of moments I thought could be inserted into season 3. These are still moments I plan to edit and publish one day. For anyone that actually read this far, I’ll put a rough and unedited excerpt of the first scene I ever wrote about them.

Thank you again anon 🖤😊

BEGIN EXCERPT [after the rooftop fight for the serum, immediately following the ceremony where Eren touched Historia by kissing her hand]:

Part of her was embarrassed at such a flagrant act of disobedience to a superior, especially to one who saved her and countless others' lives in the past. But mostly, she was anguished by the situation Captain Levi put her in once he revoked the serum meant to save Armin and planned to use it on Commander Erwin instead. Her current ostracization and self-loathing was not entirely her own fault. Anger she felt toward herself was just as easy to wield against him.

It must have shown in the grit of her teeth or defiant tone, because he turned to look at her, more aloof than curious.

Like a flint struck to steel, it ignited the fury she felt toward him.

“I shouldn’t have hesitated. I should have just killed you,” she answered him at last, piercing him with eyes darker than the night.

He wasn’t concerned. “You’re good, but not that good.”

Her hands fell to her side, fists clenched as she stood with a single, fluid movement. Before she could let loose a threat, he sighed.

“What’s the problem, Ackerman?” He was dismissive, his shoulders relaxed and posture loose.

The fire too furious to contain, she went sailing for him with the same speed from the battlefield. Her fingers already curled, she tightened her grasp as she swung her fist into his gods-damned apathetic face.

Levi wasn’t unprepared. He easily side-stepped her, then snatched her wrist to steal her momentum. Though he tried to toss her aside, she was no less fast; Mikasa dug her heel in and spun, her other arm shoving hard into his chest.

Too graceful to stumble, Levi used the chance to hook her second arm too. He caged both her wrists in a grip so strong, she was sure it bruised her bones. Still, he only looked at her warily, almost bored.

“Shouldn’t you be grateful? I chose Armin.” If his reminder was meant to ease her anger, it had the opposite effect.

Fury and desperation gifted her additional strength. She shoved into his chest hard. Levi shifted backward, nearly forced into loosening his grip; within that split second of an opening, Mikasa slammed her elbow into his chin, rocking his head backward.

“You did,” she seethed, but as fast as the fire inside her exploded, it was doused. Her next words came out broken and damp. “But I didn’t.”

Levi remained stern and otherwise unmoving as he attempted to flex his jaw through the spasm of pain. As the momentum of the fight died down, he loosened his hold on her wrists and evaluated her distraught frame.

Mikasa immediately released her own hands and turned away from him, eyes stinging from tears she refused to shed as she focused on the stars ahead. Admitting the harsh words aloud hurt her far more than any injury she could inflict onto him.

Not only was Armin one of the only friends she had, but he’d been a steadfast one throughout almost all she could remember of her life. After the trauma of her childhood, it was Eren and Armin who embraced her, whom she learned to love. Now, though, there was a wedge between her and Armin she was not sure could ever be removed. What was worse, as deplorable and selfish as she knew it proved her to be, was the painful wedge it now put between her and Eren too.

Once again, she found Levi standing at the peripheral of her sight, close enough to see but far enough to be a blur at the edge of her watery vision.

“You almost killed me.” Levi repeated his earlier words, but he said them with an odd bite, torn between frustration and patience. “You would have killed me to save him.”

Too late, Mikasa realized he hadn’t meant these words as an accusation, but an odd form of validation. She bit her bottom lip, teeth puncturing too hard; the tang of metal was sharp on her tongue when she swallowed blood.

“You thought about letting your closest friend die,” Levi said quietly, tiredly. “But I did let mine die. I left him for dead, when I could have saved him.”

Mikasa was startled from her selfish reverie, for the first time acknowledging the sacrifice he made on that fateful afternoon. She’d been too absorbed in her own relief, and then, her own regrets to consider what the decision had done to him.

For a brief moment, she considered turning to face him, but the stark reality of the matter made her refrain. How could she feel pity for his loss, when his loss enabled her gain? An uncomfortable knot tightened in her stomach.

“Tch,” Levi sighed. He was only one notch less taciturn, but for him, that was soft. “You’ll live with your guilt, and I’ll live with mine.”

His words granted Mikasa’s tears the permission to spill. She buried her face further into her scarf, both hands trembling at the worn threads. As quietly as he arrived onto the roof, Levi disappeared from it.

.

.

It was rare for him to indulge in alcohol or celebrations, but Erwin’s absence felt more tangible than his presence ever did. Levi distracted himself with the chaos of the few remaining Scouts that Erwin had died entrusting his legacy to, and attempted to drown the pain with whatever drink Connie Springer shoved into his hands.

He found Hanji with their ale long-forgotten about on the table as they half-stood from their seat, frantic while explaining some morbid experiment in great, vivid detail to an unsuspecting and slightly horrified MP officer.

Though Levi wordlessly took the seat beside them, Hanji paused their rant to slap him hard on the back, an enthusiastic greeting flying from their drunken lips. The MP took this chance to excuse himself, a pathetic attempt at politeness, but Hanji either didn’t care or didn’t notice.

“Ah, Levi,” they smiled at his drink, though it didn’t entirely reach their one eye. “Where you been?”

Levi didn’t answer. “You know, shitty-glasses, you’re even more unbearable about your experiments when you’re drunk.”

Hanji waved dismissively and reached for their ale. Years spent in battle and command together had gifted both of them with an eased familiarity, and sometimes, genuine friendship. In the same manner he ignored their question, Hanji ignored his lack of response and went on with their original inquiry.

“Careful, Captain,” Hanji warned lightly. “Now that there’s far fewer Scouts, you having a favorite might cause some division.”

Even though Hanji meant the words, there was a glint of mischief that twinkled in their remaining eye.

“It’s not favoritism,” Levi countered bluntly, turning his vision toward the young man on the far side of the room. “Eren is simply the best chance that we have in this war.”

Hanji laughed as if he’d made a joke and Levi looked back to stare at them, unable to be surprised at their quirks or oddities any longer, but still a touch curious about what spurned this current demonstration.

“I wasn’t talking about Eren,” Hanji said at last, a pointed nod toward his injured chin.

Levi blinked. He didn’t realize he was nursing his injury with the hand not on his drink. As though it were too hot to touch, Levi dropped his hand.

Hanji was not judgmental, nor inquisitive. In a war-torn life of losing too many cadets entrusted to him, the fact that Levi found a soldier with the strength and skill to remain safe was not only rare, but worth special attention. Still, it made him too lenient.

“Sometimes I think you’d let her get away with murder,” Hanji chided halfheartedly.

When he thought of Erwin dead in his grasp, sometimes he wasn’t sure if he already had.

[mc-lukanette]

As a naga, Luka had keen senses, particularly when it came to his home. He was so used to the particular sounds, sights, and scents around the house that it was easy to tell when something was off.

It wasn't the sound of careful footsteps that woke him up, as he knew they were Marinette's, but rather the song that went with it. Whatever she was feeling, it was wrong, reminiscent of how he remembered her sounding when she was first thrust into his world.

Uncurling and pushing himself up off his stomach, he rose and went across the room, careful not to wake Juleka all the while. The divider in the room separated him and Juleka from Marinette's side of the room, giving her the privacy that humans apparently needed. Luka didn't bother peeking in, knowing that she wouldn't be there.

He went out to the main room, looking past the assorted instruments and furniture to see Marinette in the kitchen area. Though her back was facing him, the sound of a pencil to paper seemed to indicate that she was writing something on the counter.

He considered what he should do, but opted to simply approach as he realized that it was a bit rude to be watching her without saying anything. "Marinette?"

She jolted, then turned around to face him. "L-luka!" Her hand reached back, slamming down on whatever paper she'd been writing on. "W-what are you doing up?"

He refrained from pointing out that he could ask her the same thing. "I was worried about you. You used to wake up like this, but it was only for a little while after you'd come here."

"O-oh? Yeah, w-well..." She turned, presumably staring down at the paper from earlier. "It's... nothing you need to worry about. I woke myself up, that's all."

He paused, squinting a bit as he tried to place what might've been wrong. He didn't want to push her, but he had a bad feeling about going back to bed without sorting it out.

"I can't help it," he admitted. "I worry about the people I care about."

She flinched, her shoulders suddenly tense, though not in the usual cute flustered way that he liked to see so much. He slithered closer, but gave her enough space that he knew she'd be comfortable with.

She was silent at first, then let out a slow, shaky breath, her gaze dropping to the floor.

"I'm leaving, even though I don't really want to."

If he wasn't fully alert before, he was now. "Y-you—what? You're leaving?"

She didn't reply, keeping her back faced to him. He moved impulsively, possibly invading her personal bubble as he went to her side and leaned against the counter to look at her.

"You don't have to go anywhere if you don't want to, Marinette," he said, a rare desperation in his voice. He let his other hand fall upon hers, adding, "so please don't. It's dangerous out there for you, we don't know how people could react—"

"That's why," she cut in softly.

He blinked, trying to figure out what that meant on his own before giving up and asking outright, "What do you mean?"

"I'm weird. I'm not supposed to be here. This world is full of half-human creatures and I'm just... human."

She fumbled with the paper that he could now see. It was already crinkled, her hands constantly mixed between messing it up further and smoothing it out. It was indeed a farewell letter, and his heart dropped at the idea that, had he not woken up, she would've left without a proper good-bye.

He looked back at her. "None of us mind that you're human," he reminded her. "Mom thinks it's great, Jule thinks you're cool..." He paused, afraid of pushing her away by saying too much. Leaning further onto the counter, he lowered himself to try and seem as small as possible. Honesty felt like the only way forward, so he continued, "and I've never met a girl as unique and incredible as you."

Her gaze darted over at him, clearly struck by his words. Carefully, he raised his hand from hers and let it hover near her cheek, not wanting to touch it without her permission. He'd expected her to either pull away or nod, but instead, she leaned into the touch all on her own.

He forced himself to ignore the skip in his heart so he could focus on the issue at hand. "Even when you're not able to go out without covering up or putting on a disguise, you still find ways to help. Your skills at design are out of this world—" He smiled at the snort she let out from the playful joke. "—and even if you do mess up, you always find a way to turn it around." Keeping his voice firm, but low, he added, "Anyone would be lucky to have you, Marinette, and there aren't enough notes in the world for me to tell you how happy I am that you ended up here of all places."

She shuddered against his hand, her cheeks turning warm under his touch. She exhaled, turning her face into his palm in some futile attempt to hide, her own hand pressing against the back of his to keep it there (not that he'd had any intention of moving it).

Her eyes shimmered. She made a choked noise as she teared up. He was tempted to wipe her tears away, but feared that it was perhaps too intimate given that his hand was already on her cheek.

Then, she spoke, voice pained as she tearfully whispered, "I love you."

This time, he couldn't so easily ignore the skip in his heart.

"I've never felt this way about anyone before. This world isn't even mine, but I've never felt so much like I belonged somewhere than when I'm with you. I care about you too, and that's why—t-that's why I have to go. I thought about it for a long time and—it'd just cause trouble for you. You're so sweet and selfless, so I knew you wouldn't have it in you to let me leave when it's so dangerous for me, but then that just means awkwardly living in a house forever with a girl you know has a crush on you. A-and even if you liked me back, then you'd have to constantly be careful and keep me a secret forever and I can't ask you to—"

"I would."

She stopped, jarred out of her ramble. "W-what?"

Now unafraid, he rose up to be eye level with her, his other hand sliding onto her remaining cheek. "I would keep you a secret forever, happily." Smiling fondly, he asked, "Isn't that what we're already doing anyway?"

"Y-yes?" she replied, though what he was implying seemed to still be catching up with her. "B-but—a relationship—"

"Of course I'd sing it to the world if I could," he cut in. "If I knew you'd stay safe, I'd tell everyone how happy I am that the girl I love loves me back, but I don't need to."

Wiping away the streak of tears that had stopped just a little while ago, he added softly, "Because the only ones that need to know are right here: me and you. The world is my stage, but playing for them will never be as important to me as playing for you."

She choked again, relief washing over her face as the tears returned. Luka understood now why she'd asked so long ago about how nagas interact when they're a couple, and why she'd looked so despondent when he'd mentioned the linking and curling of tails.

He silently thanked his past self, however, because he'd also asked her in return how human couples interact.

He kissed her thusly, Marinette squeaking at first before wrapping her arms around his neck. It definitely wasn't perfect on his part - he'd had no prior reference - but as she shifted and kissed his back, something clicked and he was able to correct himself.

Simultaneously, he moved and curled the tip of his tail to wrap around one of her legs. She shivered, letting out a surprised gasp before quickly going back in to kiss him again.

Did it feel the same as having a naga as a romantic partner? Was it as "natural" as having a naga tail to curl around instead?

No, absolutely not, and that was just one of the reasons why he loved it.

[aphrodites-law]

A Bit of Clarity - Update

In honor of Clexmas20, Day 5: The Naughty List. We all know who’s on it.

A Bit of Clarity 🍂 (13/?) / (AO3) The visions had started last autumn, a year ago now. It had caused a bit of chaos for some, a bit of clarity for others. Two days ago, Clarke Griffin had been perfectly fine managing both her Café and her stress. But now she was curious - so deeply curious about the vision of herself entwined with the aloof Lexa Woods that it was leading her to complete distraction. 

[part 1] [part 2] [part 3] [part 4] [part 5] [part 6] [part 7] [part 8] [part 9] [part 10] [part 11] [part 12]

Though hope could be dangerous, Clarke had felt it bloom when Lexa had turned around to look up at her. She still couldn't chase it away while she waited for Lexa to reach the top of the stairs, and even less when Lexa finally appeared, breathing fast, with cheeks already slightly red from the chill of the night. Clarke wanted nothing more than to run to her, but something had her rooted in place.

Now barefoot and without her coat, she should have felt the cold floor and the chill in the corridor. Instead, all she could feel was her heart racing. Lexa seemed stunned to be back here, but in awe rather than shock. Her mouth opened and closed twice, like she was thinking too fast and reconsidering each one of her words.

Finally, Clarke couldn't take the silence any longer: "If you come any closer-"

"I know," Lexa replied immediately. "Believe me, I know."

Lexa said the last part with such yearning that Clarke had to clutch the side of her door, as if it digging her nails into it might somehow smother the fire inside her. Conscious of how desire could override good sense, at least in their shared history, she knew honesty was the only way forward:

"I don't want just tonight," she said, voice cracking at the end.

This couldn't be an impulse. It couldn't be an itch to scratch. Clarke had always known she wanted more. That if regret entered their thoughts in the morning, her heart would break. It was what her vision had told her all along: that avoiding vulnerability had kept her from a more meaningful connection. That she'd quieted a part of herself out of fear it would crush her. And she hoped Lexa was thinking the same; that she'd turn away if deep down she knew it wasn't right just yet. After all, it may have felt like an eternity since they'd decided to take their time, but the reality was quite a bit shorter.

As if answering those fears, Lexa shook her head. "When I was down there I remembered what I told you earlier: that I'm certain about us. And… I am. I am, Clarke. I want every minute you'd give me." She started walking then, her hand brushing against the wall to steady herself. "I want mornings in your kitchen; afternoons in your café." She stopped and swallowed. "And I want nights in your arms."

There was a beat - an agreement between them - that felt so similar to the one before their first kiss that Clarke knew nothing else could follow it but just that. She shot off, and Lexa did too, until they met each other in the middle of the corridor. Clarke pulled Lexa into her, and Lexa's hands went to her waist, both of them moaning in relief when they finally kissed, warm lips meeting cold ones with such force that Lexa stumbled and her back thudded against the wall.

"Sorry!" Clarke said.

Lexa smiled just then, deliriously happy, before kissing her again. She had Clarke pressed against the opposite wall in a second.

"Don't be," she said. "I like it."

Their next kiss held nothing back - not after Clarke heard such an admission - and ended only when Lexa pressed her lips against her jawline.

"I've played this out in my head so many times," Lexa breathed out shakily. "At the café I'd look at you and I'd remember how it felt to kiss you - to finally kiss you."

Clarke moaned as Lexa continued claiming her neck.

"I'd wish I could press you up against the display again and never make the mistake of pulling away. Take you right there." Her hands tightened on Clarke's waist and then inched up with a hunger written on her face. "You feel so right, Clarke. You always have. I can't even think straight when you're in the room. It's all you, all the time."

Clarke felt dizzy, unable to think coherently herself let alone form words with her mouth. She reached for Lexa's hand and brought it to her breast over her sweater, breathing hotly in the small space that separated their lips. "Then take me now," she managed to plead.

Lexa groaned before reclaiming her lips, cupping her breast at the same time their kiss deepened. Her tongue was silky soft, but her hands had a roughness to them that made Clarke throb with want. There was nothing rough or careless about Lexa herself, but weeks of thinking instead of acting had both of them on edge.

In the back of her mind, Clarke vaguely remembered they had yet to cross into her apartment, but at the forefront was Lexa's body pressed tightly against hers, Lexa's tongue in her mouth, and Lexa's hands on her breasts. She moaned loudly, and maybe it was that that spurred Lexa on. She guided Clarke toward the door, both of them clumsily trying to kiss at the same time, lips stretching into smiles when they bumped into each other.

Clarke finally opened Lexa's coat, and Lexa finally had her bra unsnapped, the move so swift that Clarke was only aware of it when Lexa slipped a hand beneath her sweater and cupped her bare breast. Her knees went weak and she stifled a cry against Lexa's neck. She was pressed against the wall again, the ache between her legs growing stronger.

"Lexa, baby, wait- inside."

Lexa nodded but made no move in that direction, instead crouching down to kiss her cleavage. She licked and nipped the exposed skin while she palmed her breast, until she couldn't help herself and ran a thumb over the stiff peak. Clarke gasped and threaded her fingers through Lexa's thick hair, so close to forgetting all about common courtesy. She had neighbors she liked. Neighbors who were also customers. Neighbors she'd want to introduce to Lexa, one day.

She searched for the door next to her and pushed it wide open, then pulled Lexa inside by the lapels of her coat. Though miffed at the interruption, Lexa recovered spectacularly well when Clarke shut the door behind them and resumed their kissing. She had Lexa pinned next to the coat rack, which rattled against the wall. Lexa's hands found her ass and squeezed.

"Fuck," Clarke breathed out. "I never thought it could be like this."

Lexa licked her bottom lip. "Like what?"

"Like…" Clarke's eyes darkened and she promptly pulled down Lexa's coat. "Wanting you so much it's painful."

In full agreement, Lexa pushed off the wall to kiss her. They moved further inside, blindly finding their way. Lexa mapped every inch of Clarke's skin she could reach, craving more. It was almost overwhelming, and perhaps the best indicator of how long it had been since she'd let passion overtake her.

"I want- I want-"

"Tell me," Clarke coaxed, desperate to get it out of her. Lexa had such a way with the written word, but Clarke needed her voice tonight.

"I feel like I'm going to starve if I don't have you now," she finally admitted as Clarke bumped into the kitchen table.

Clarke sat on it and felt a jolt of pleasure shoot through her when Lexa immediately stepped between her thighs. It was familiar and yet different from the cramped room of the café, where the thrill had been in the stolen moment. Clarke had known nothing further than kissing would happen then.

This time, Lexa cupped her cheek; and it was tender, because tenderness underlined everything Lexa did, even something as mundane as typing on her keyboard, but it was possessive too. Not possessive in a way Clarke had ever known, or at least not the kind that stemmed from dominance and jealousy. It was from something else that Clarke had felt too; this deep-seated hope that only she could satisfy Lexa. It was arrogant, she couldn't deny it, but it was true of Lexa too. No one else had ever had such a hold on her body, and no one else could satisfy her tonight - it seemed like Lexa was perhaps proudly aware of it.

"Tell me how you want me," Clarke rasped.

Lexa pressed her forehead against hers, her breathing fast and warm. Her hand slid down from her cheek to her neck, as if wanting to touch her everywhere and unsure where to finally settle.

"I want what you said before I left: my body against yours; my mouth on your thighs… my tongue inside you." Clarke shivered as Lexa looked down at her heaving chest. "Do you have any idea how many times I tormented myself with glimpses of you touching yourself? Knowing you'd seen me; us?" 

Lexa tugged at the bottom of Clarke's sweater and pulled it up, letting Clarke lift her arms before she took it off completely, her bra coming with it. Clarke's hair fell back messily and Lexa seemed to enjoy the sight, exhaling sharply before she had to crush their lips together again. The coarse fabric of Lexa's sweater rubbed against her nipples in the most pleasurable way.

"And I can't stand not knowing anymore," Lexa groaned.

While Clarke lost herself to the glorious feeling of Lexa's mouth against hers, with no end in sight for the first time, she faintly felt hands work on the buttons of her pants. Lexa grew more frenzied after they came off, hooking her fingers in her underwear to pull them down her legs.

Before she even realized it, Clarke was naked on the table while Lexa stood fully clothed, almost insufferably smug when she pinned Clarke’s wrists down. There was something about being completely at Lexa’s mercy in this moment, so utterly vulnerable and safe at the same time, that made Clarke dizzy with need.

While Lexa drank her in with a darkened stare, Clarke tried and failed to steady her breathing. Past her awkward teenage years she'd been comfortable with her body; with her full breasts and her curves, but Lexa’s noticeable desire has her feeling like a work of art. It was emboldening.

“Are you just going to stare...?” She husked.

Pulled out of her lustful reverie, Lexa let go of her hands to trail up her thighs. She felt cool against her skin, but was quickly warming up now. She kissed her throat sensually and licked over her pulse as she had after their date on the mountain.

“Now I’ve seen all of you too,” she whispered, sending a shiver down Clarke's spine.

Clarke cupped the back of her neck and kissed her desperately, squirming on the table for relief. But Lexa clearly intended to provide it, her hand inching so close to Clarke's entrance that she could feel its heat.

"I want to be inside you," she said, only pressing closer after Clarke had nodded.

Lexa's fingers were coated with her arousal as soon as they parted her folds. Clarke had wanted this for so long, and so strongly, that it was no surprise how wet she was. She'd felt her own desire for Lexa multiple times before, and it was fierce.

"I think you want that too," Lexa noted as her thumb reached up to brush over her clit.

"Don't tease me," Clarke whined, arching into Lexa's touch. "Fuck, I can't take it anymore. I can't."

Lexa hummed against her neck, two of her fingers barely dipping inside. "You can…"

The words had Clarke on the verge of tears. "No, baby, please-"

"But not tonight," Lexa said before penetrating her. 

"Oh, fuck!" Clarke moaned loudly, throwing her arm around Lexa's neck as she lied her down on the table.

"I've got you," Lexa said.

She pumped inside her, her eyes mesmerized by Clarke's face and the pleasure written on it. Clarke's mouth remained agape as she took her in, finally full. Lexa felt so good; unlike any dream or vision she could’ve conjured for herself again.

"More, Lexa- fuck-" she panted, acutely aware how close she already was.

Lexa barely waited a beat before she picked up the pace, taking her deep and hard. There would be a time for slow and sensuous, where she would caress and worship every inch of the gorgeous woman beneath her, but neither of them had the patience for it now. In this moment Clarke needed release and Lexa needed the thrill of giving it to her.

The feet of the table thumped against the floor and something fell, but the windows could have shattered and Clarke would have still pulled Lexa closer. She'd never imagined their sex like this, but god did it feel good. It was dirty and frenzied, but it was them. It wasn't something she could have done with anyone else; that she'd ever needed with anyone else.

She gasped against Lexa's neck, tasting salt when her tongue peeked out. Lexa still had her clothes on, but she was breathing so hard that Clarke knew she was starting to sweat too. The apartment felt so much hotter already; the air already smelling like them.

Lexa took a nipple in her mouth, licking and sucking while Clarke rocked her hips against her hand, chasing her release. This is what she'd missed out on, she vaguely thought. The urge to share all of herself, to give and be taken so fucking thoroughly she could barely even remember her own name. She only had Lexa on her mind; Lexa lavishing attention on her chest and curling her fingers inside her.

"Oh god, don't stop!" She cried out, her nails scratching down Lexa's back beneath her top, not hard enough to pierce skin but hard enough to hurt good.

Lexa's hips jerked forward and Clarke realized she was moving them against the table, following the in and out rhythm of her fingers to give herself some relief. It must've been only a few minutes since Clarke had finally felt Lexa inside her, but the thought of her so wound up paired with her small moans pushed Clarke over the edge. She tensed and came with a sharp cry, her orgasm crashing throughout her body in waves. Her ankles locked around Lexa's waist and she realized her fingers were still in that thick hair of hers, now wild and messy.

Lexa hummed in between kisses to her breasts and throat, anywhere she could reach as Clarke slowly unwound beneath her. She pulled out of her and drew lazy circles against her clit, not ready to pull away entirely. The smell of their mixed arousal was heady, and all she could think about was finally tasting Clarke. It was a surprise when she heard a small laugh and then saw Clarke cover her face with her hands.

"I knew I'd be fast, but…"

Lexa pressed her nose against the back of her hand. "Hm, I guess I have time to go home." 

Clarke immediately reached for her collar. "No jokes. Besides, that was a warm-up." She kissed her and then licked her bottom lip. "Just to clear my head."

"Yes, of course," Lexa played along. "A practice round?"

"Exactly."

They laughed before kissing again, laughter soon changing to moans. Clarke got off the table to pull Lexa toward the bedroom, eager for a softer surface. There'd been some truth to what she said: the orgasm did make her a little less useless, though she was rapidly feeling hot all over again.

They kissed between the quick shedding of Lexa's clothes, hands working fast to pull up her sweater and undo her shirt. The more skin was exposed, the tighter they held each other, desperate to feel skin on skin.

Clarke felt so hungry for Lexa that when their tongues met again she stuttered in her movements. Lexa's hands on her waist steadied her, but the brief halt slowed nothing down. 

By the time the back of Clarke's knees hit her bed, she was pulling an equally naked Lexa atop her. The weight of her felt like finding what she had been missing for months, for years, and when Lexa pulled back and looked at her, making sure her renewed ardor was welcome, Clarke felt like nothing could compare to being looked at like this, with so much desire she couldn't even comprehend it.

Their next kiss made Clarke's toes curl. Lexa's tongue wasn't timid against hers. Lexa's hands weren’t hesitant when they kneaded her breasts, her thumbs sweeping over her nipples to tease the hard peaks. She took one in her mouth and Clarke gasped helplessly, not sure she would ever get used to the heat of Lexa's mouth. As wound up as she was, Lexa still seemed more interested in exploring Clarke's body. She fondled and licked, checking for signs of what made Clarke tick the most - a teasing suck, a gentle bite, or a rough squeeze.

Their bodies moved together toward one common goal, yet in no rush to reach the finish line once more. Clarke's moans surprised her. She wasn't usually quiet but she wasn't extraordinarily loud either. But Lexa had awakened something inside her. She craved her so much it was almost frightening.

"Come here," Clarke pleaded as she tried tugging Lexa back up. Her thoughts filled with Lexa coming apart beneath her, but Lexa had other plans.

"I need to taste you," she breathed out while she left gentle pecks down Clarke's stomach.

When Lexa parted her thighs and finally kissed her clit, Clarke looked down and gasped. Suddenly, she thought of her vision. She saw it so clearly now that she wondered how she could've ever thought it wasn't Lexa. And yet she felt indescribable happiness when she realized it wasn't quite what she had seen either. The air was different, the smell, even the way they moved together. Her vision wasn't a one-off - she knew that clearly now. One day perhaps they would be back in her bed, and Lexa would be breathing her in, and Clarke would know she was living what she had once seen. But tonight was still wonderfully unknown. It was theirs to discover together.

Needing to feel Lexa above all, Clarke reached for her head and moaned out her name. Lexa looked up and smiled, not once looking away while she lowered her mouth and slid her tongue through her.

"Lexa - oh god - make me come…" she pleaded, the fire inside her all-consuming.

Lexa's nose pressed against her as she drew closer, finally licking inside her. Clarke's eyes squeezed shut and she writhed beneath her, hips rocking against her mouth.

Oh she was good at this, but what struck Clarke the most was how intense she was, almost to the point of greed, like Clarke was hers to please. Like she took her pleasure from giving it, spurred on the messier it was and so eager to lap it all up. And it was messy - almost to an embarrassing point, Clarke briefly thought, to be this wet and this eager to be devoured.

Lexa worked her hard and long, maddening, never once tiring. She knew where she wanted to go but she took direction too, with Clarke's hands in her hair, sometimes guiding closer, sometimes slightly to the side and oh-

"Lexa!" Clarke gasped when she felt two fingers inside her again. A third finger quickly joined and started the delicious torture of building her up.

The air around them was almost stifling, but Clarke never wanted to leave this room. She'd lost all inhibition in Lexa's arms, in this bed, and it was the most freeing feeling in the world. She'd known they had a connection - that they brought out something exhilarating and new in each other - but she hadn't dreamed of something like this. Of understanding each other so utterly fast.

"You taste so good," Lexa said before she flicked her tongue over her clit, smiling proudly when Clarke's fingers pressed against her scalp again. 

"I'm so close - so close-" Clarke's back arched and she spread her thighs wider, offering herself fully, crying out when Lexa's fingers stroked a deep spot inside her. "Right there, right there," she moaned, but any other plea was swiftly cut off.

Her orgasm had her clawing at the sheets, gripping until her knuckles went white; her heart pounding. She called out for Lexa followed by a string of expletives, her thoughts completely wiped out. For a few seconds, there was nothing else existing in this world but this very feeling.

"Oh god, fuck," she said as she regained some sense of space. "Come here, baby, please."

Lexa licked her lips before moving up her body, her senses so attuned to Clarke's taste and smell; the very feel of her beneath her fingertips.

Clarke kissed her deeply once her breathing had calmed down. It was wet and filthy, a kiss that specifically aimed to further Lexa's arousal. Once Clarke had recovered, it was no surprise that she pushed Lexa on her back and straddled her.

And while Lexa had successfully kept her mind off of her own needs so far, it was impossible now. Clarke entwined their fingers together and pinned them on each side of Lexa's head, grinning when Lexa's attention immediately went to her hanging breasts, too far for her mouth to reach.

"You want something?" Clarke coyly asked as she started grinding against her, her breasts now swaying gently with her body.

Lexa squeezed her hands in frustration. "Clarke…"

Clarke leaned down and grinned cockily when Lexa tried kissing her.

"I think you like this," she said, her mouth so close she could feel Lexa's warm breath. She could smell herself too, and even in the poor lighting from the hallway, she could see her essence on Lexa's chin.

"I think you've liked it for a long time. How we'd touch but barely; kiss but never long enough. It's how you drove me crazy for weeks. But I know I liked it, deep down." She rubbed herself against Lexa's thighs and watched her reaction closely. "How it pushed me toward the edge. How much more intense it made touching myself every night, wondering how much closer we were to a night like this."

Lexa's eyes squeezed shut for a second. "Fuck," she breathed out, to Clarke's wicked delight.

"Hmm, I know you like picturing that." She kissed her throat and then finally kissed her breasts. "Let me take care of you." She let go of her hands to palm one breast while she teased the other with her tongue, sighing when Lexa moaned lowly.

Lexa slung an arm around her middle, fingers stretched out on her back, just to feel her closer. Just to be selfish for a moment and keep this woman - this bold, extraordinary woman - all to herself. She had wanted to give so much tonight, to push Clarke over the edge and bring her back, over and over again, but beneath Clarke's mouth and hands she was unable to ignore her own desire any longer.

Her breathing stuttered as she watched her leave open-mouthed kisses down her stomach, adoring every freckle.

Maybe Clarke had seen Lexa's body before even truly knowing her, but it couldn't compare to actually feeling her. Feeling the warmth of her skin and how her muscles tensed; watching the dim light bounce on her tattoo when she flexed her arm; how her eyes darkened the more time passed. Her vision had been about her own pleasure, but Clarke found Lexa's pleasure much more exhilarating.

"What do you want?" She asked this time, stroking the inside of Lexa's thigh.

Lexa looked so taken aback for a second that Clarke wondered if she still wasn't used to being asked that. The first time Clarke had ever asked her, at night in the café, Lexa had kissed her. The second, she had implied it didn't matter. But it did, and Clarke would make sure Lexa always knew it.

Lexa gripped her hip, pulling her closer. Then, she cupped the back of her neck to kiss her, maybe as a way of stalling. Clarke couldn't imagine why she would do it, until Lexa nudged her higher up on her body again. Clarke laughed when her breasts were at eye level and Lexa licked her bottom lip.

"Well I know what to give you for Christmas now," she said.

Lexa smiled before lifting her head to nuzzle one breast. "I could stay here forever."

"Hmm, I'll see what I can do about that." Clarke reached between her legs and touched her, her knees almost buckling when she felt how wet Lexa was.

Lexa's breathing quickened and she pressed her face against Clarke's cleavage, her arm still tight around her.

"Clarke, fuck," she exhaled sharply.

It was distracting enough to have Lexa's mouth so close to her breasts again, but when she lifted her thigh ever so slightly, Clarke felt it against her center and briefly wavered. Knowing she'd be a lost cause if she started grinding down on it, she slid two fingers inside Lexa and watched as she tipped her head back.

Clarke had always known Lexa to be hard to pinpoint; reserved at times and yet so passionate at others. Detached some days and sociable on others. The vision had captured just how intense she could be, like a switch she turned on. For a long time Clarke had thought of her as a walking contradiction, but as she looked at her face now, she saw none of that. Lexa had trusted her with so much; and asked for so little in return. And while Clarke had yearned for the intimacy in her vision, she realized then they'd shared that long before shedding their clothes. Touching Lexa - finally touching Lexa - was just the culmination of it.

"You feel amazing," she whispered as she pressed inside her, amazed by Lexa's small moans and how she held her. They couldn't possibly be closer, their sweaty bodies sliding against each other, and yet it still felt like there was too much between them.

Clarke felt Lexa's thigh tense and moaned, not expecting it to feel so good against her clit. When Lexa nudged her hips and encouraged her to grind down, Clarke gave into the urge.

"Don't stop," Lexa panted, tongue flicking against Clarke's breast again.

Clarke would've never dared, the thought of pulling out almost laughable. Every cell in her body was focused on Lexa; on the sound of her fingers thrusting inside her and the quick rise and fall of her chest. She couldn't get enough of her; couldn't wait to watch her come undone.

Lexa writhed beneath her, hips rising to meet the rhythm she had set. Her eyes were closed now and there was a slight crease between her brows. It made Clarke smile, remembering too fondly how wound up Lexa had been when they had first met. It had been apparent then and it was apparent now, differently of course, only Clarke intended to make sure she found her release.

"I've got you," she echoed Lexa's earlier sentiment, remembering how it had made her feel.

While Clarke hadn't been able to quiet her moans, Lexa's impeding orgasm seemed to have the opposite effect. Her lips were parted and her hold on Clarke had tightened, but she seemed to have retreated into herself.

"Baby, look at me," Clarke gently coxed as her thrusts quickened.

Lexa looked up with shining eyes, and for a moment Clarke lost herself in them. She couldn't really explain what happened then, if their arousal was heightening everything, but she felt every bit of Lexa's trust in her, and it made her heart swell. She bent down to kiss her, and even if it was sloppy it felt like she might cry from it.

Now desperate for Lexa to feel the same way she'd made her, Clarke pulled out of her and focused on her clit, rubbing it until Lexa's fingers dug into her back and she gasped.

"Clarke- fuck, oh-" She came with a soft cry, trying to keep her eyes open until she couldn't any longer. She reached for Clarke's hand and interlaced their fingers, her way of showing she was still here, in the moment, and had no intention of leaving.

Clarke drank in every change in her expression, from her brow finally relaxing to the little twitch in her nose she could only describe as so fucking cute. Lexa was breathtaking. It felt like her chest had exploded with happiness. She couldn't put it into words yet, but she would one day - that much she knew.

With that thought, Clarke rested her head on Lexa's shoulder and grinned, just because it felt exactly like the thing to do.

* * *

Clarke woke up on her stomach to the feeling of Lexa's lips on the back of her neck and her knuckles brushing down her spine. She kept her eyes shut, the light of the morning sun already filtering through the thin drapes. Lexa must've gotten up at some point to shut them, because it certainly hadn't been a priority last night. It'd been a while since Clarke had woken up after dawn, but the café was the furthest thing from her mind today, interviews be damned.

"Hmm feels nice," she mumbled into her pillow. She stretched her arms and legs, nearly purring when she realized Lexa's naked body was pressed against her back.

"Good morning," Lexa murmured.

Clarke faced her with a shy grin. Lexa looked so stunning with her tousled hair and the soft light on her face.

"Hi," she said, her voice still scratchy. 

"How do you feel?"

Clarke snorted. "How do you think?"

Lexa smiled and bent down to kiss her, but the initial gentle press of lips soon turned into something deeper when Clarke reached out for her cheek and opened her mouth. Lexa sighed into it, her hand now resting on her ass and squeezing it when Clarke grew bolder.

"Don't start what you can't finish…" Clarke pulled away, the pulse between her legs throbbing familiarly.

"I wouldn't dare," Lexa replied confidently before straddling Clarke's legs and bending down again to kiss her shoulder blades.

"Lexa…" Clarke's breathing picked up as she guessed her intentions. She was wet, maybe wetter than she'd expected just a few minutes after waking up, but Lexa had this effect on her. She felt her shuffle back before cupping her ass with both hands.

"Raise your hips for me, baby," Lexa gently said.

Clarke did as requested, her hands gripping the sheets beneath her when she suddenly felt Lexa's tongue flat against her slit. The pillow muffled her moan. She buried her face in it, picturing Lexa positioned behind her so clearly it made her stomach tighten even more. Not seeing her made it all the more intense; a sign she trusted Lexa wholly, even at her most exposed.

Lexa tongued her clit and then dipped inside her, teasing her slowly, unlike the frantic pace they had set last night. It was purposeful though, building on the pressure Clarke already felt so strongly.

"Oh my god," she gave a low moan, helpless to do anything but hope Lexa would take pity on her fast.

She didn't. Lexa alternated between slow drags of her tongue against her entrance and gentle suction on her clit, as if exploring her anew in the morning light. Clarke groaned, thinking this might be how she would go insane. She needed so much more - Lexa deep inside her, taking her roughly until she was finally rid of the pulsing ache between her legs.

"Lexa, please-" she said, her fingers digging into the mattress.

Lexa shifted and Clarke suddenly shivered in anticipation. Yesterday had been heated and impatient, but this morning was a different kind of yearning. How far could they push and pull each other? How much could they give and take?

Taking her cue, Lexa drew unhurried circles around her clit before repositioning herself. She leaned down, her breasts against Clarke's back, though not so heavily that Clarke would crumple completely beneath her weight. Then, she pushed two fingers inside her.

"Fuck," Clarke moaned, knees pressed into the mattress.

Flashes of herself getting off like this the first time filled her mind. It had been the first time she'd thought of Lexa - at least consciously. The first time she'd needed to get off so badly that only picturing Lexa would satisfy her. And it had been enough then, but it had never been this good. If Lexa kept this going, she couldn't imagine leaving her room today.

"Like this?" Lexa asked as she filled her.

God, Lexa sure picked her moments. Clarke couldn't think straight, let alone speak!

"Faster," she managed to whimper.

Lexa hummed in acknowledgment and then sucked on her neck, moving her hips in such a way that it matched the movement of her fingers. Clarke felt like she was being mounted; taken so hard and good that she'd walk funny for days. She parted her thighs wider, lewdly, just to feel Lexa deeper.

"Harder… More…"

Lexa knew how to tease but she wasn't cruel at it, at least not this morning. She obeyed Clarke's commands smoothly, as if nothing could please her more than pleasing Clarke.

"I thought about you too," Lexa admitted quietly, like it was a dirty secret of hers. "Just like this."

Clarke's foggy mind processed the words slowly, her heart jolting when she realized what Lexa meant. Lexa shifted behind her and Clarke felt her grind against her ass, like she needed to alleviate the ache she was feeling herself before continuing.

"Thought about you spread out for me." Lexa shifted slightly to change the angle. "Hearing you say my name."

"Lexa-"

"Just like that. I thought about taking you with my tongue first - soft and gentle."

"Oh, oh," Clarke panted into the pillow.

Lexa picked up the pace. "With my fingers - hard and fast."

Clarke's mouth opened but no sound came out as her body hurtled toward release, the delicious pressure tightening with each word.

"And when I was about to come I'd think about taking you with my strap - in deep, long strokes." Lexa finally added a third finger and watched as Clarke's back arched in pleasure.

"Oh my- God, Lex- Don't stop, don't stop!" 

"Never," Lexa breathed out.

Their bodies moved together as one again, and soon Lexa found it harder to keep herself from collapsing on Clarke. She chased her own release, grinding against her, spurred on each time Clarke said her name. 

Finally Clarke's whole body tensed before she moaned loudly into the pillow, pleasure bursting within her as she reached her peak. Her toes curled and her mind went blank, wiped out by Lexa's thorough fucking. One, two, three thrusts of her hips against her ass and Lexa was crying out her name in the crook of her neck, her voice a soft rasp until all Clarke heard was their ragged breathing.

Lexa lied on her for a minute, the weight of her so warm and pleasant that Clarke wished she'd just stay there and they could fall asleep like this. Lexa reached for her hand and held it, mumbling something Clarke couldn't quite make out at first.

"You're amazing," Lexa said more clearly as she moved to the side, lying next to Clarke. "So fucking amazing."

Clarke quickly realized something. "Oh Lex…" she started giggling.

"What is it?" Lexa asked with amusement, propping herself up on her elbow and adoring Clarke's contagious laughter. "Was it too much?"

Clarke shook her head and pulled back. "Not at all. I was just thinking… we lasted about a week."

"Oh." Lexa smiled. "Well, God made the world in a week. A whole world. So I'd argue a week is an honorable amount of time to wait."

Clarke pushed Lexa on her back so she could rest her head on her chest, wanting to bask in the warmth of their bodies as her heart settled down.

"True, but I'm not sure the Bible would approve of this."

Lexa shrugged. "We just did our part fulfilling a different prophecy. Which reminds me... How did I compare?"

Clarke laughed tiredly. "No, this wasn't it."

"Really?"

"It was different."

Lexa thought about this for a beat. "How so?"

Clarke kissed the side of her breast. "Just… realer. Looking back, the vision was almost like… like I wasn't fully in my body. It's hard to explain. It can't be compared."

"Hm. Interesting."

Clarke looked up. "You're not going to include this in the Gazette, are you?"

"Well of course I am, this was all just a ploy to further my research."

Clarke moved to playfully nip her earlobe. "In that case I'll have to keep you in this room forever."

Lexa grinned while Clarke peppered her neck with kisses. "I'll agree to those terms in the name of research." She capture her lips and sighed into their sweet kiss, her arms right where she had wanted them for so long, around Clarke's waist.

Staying here forever had a nice ring to it.

[wanderinginksplot]

Nobody Listens to Kix

Previous | Next | Masterlist

Case 00864: Dogma

Warning: This chapter deals with the aftermath of the Umbara arc and touches on shock, PTSD, and related themes. Please skip this chapter if those things make you uncomfortable. (No grossness like the last chapter, though.)

For the first time in his life, Kix stood in the middle of the medbay and felt utterly lost. They had been picked up by the Resolute, pulled from Umbara's surface aboard General Skywalker's favorite ship, the Twilight. The medbay was filled with men from the 212th and the 501st alike, men mixed together more completely than they ever had been. They were united in one thing: they were clones.

Nothing else mattered right now, maybe nothing else would ever matter. They had been pitted together, forced to fight to the death against their own brothers, and for what? To help a corrupt Jedi prove that clones were defective? Nothing as petty as the colors painted on their armor could separate the troopers from their vode now.

The medbay was overflowing with troopers and Kix felt helpless. Most of the injuries were minor, easily treated, but the emotional trauma…

Everywhere he looked, Kix found brothers frowning, crying, raging at the injustice of it all, or looking just as lost as he felt. Every bed in the medbay was taken up and troopers still filed in. They leaned against the walls, sat eight to a bed, or just stood in the middle of the floor. Normally, the accepted procedure was to create temporary medbays in the Resolute's hangers, but Kix refused to do that. The bodies of his fallen brothers filled every hanger, and he would sooner be court-martialed than force injured or emotionally-vulnerable men to stare at the bodies of men who had died in transit.

And it was only those who had died on their way to the Resolute who were being recovered. The men who had fallen on Umbara's surface would be left there, left to become part of the planet's dark soil. The Republic didn't worry about burying the clones. The new teams who arrived to hold the planet would have orders to collect the numbers of fallen troopers. A full casualty report couldn't be made until then.

An envoy of Jedi healers was on the way to meet the Resolute, their needs deemed too severe to wait until they had docked at Coruscant. It was a surprise, but one that Kix wouldn't turn away. It seemed that, despite being seen as expendable by the Republic, there were some Jedi who felt the injustice of what the clones had undergone.

The generals were out and about, as well. General Skywalker had gone to console Captain Rex, who - according to clone gossip - had nearly destroyed his office after returning to the ship. General Kenobi and Commander Tano were circling the medbay comforting troopers. They did their best not to look hurt by the men who flinched away from them. They understood that such recent betrayal by a Jedi meant that they would not easily trust another.

Kix noted that every Jedi he had seen since they left Umbara was not wearing a lightsaber. Even Commander Tano's iconic dual hilts were missing from her crossed belts.

General Kenobi veered closer to Kix as he moved through the crowd and stopped to speak with him. "I offer my most sincere apologies, Kix. Please, if there is anything I can do to help-"

Kix had started shaking his head before the General had fully formed the question. His brothers wouldn't accept help from a Jedi just now, and it would just agitate them further. Between himself and the three medical droids, Kix knew he could keep the men in the medbay alive until the Jedi relief healers arrived. Just then, though, he had bigger concerns. "Are you all right, General?"

Kenobi looked surprised when Kix gestured at his face and raised a hand to touch the wet trails down his cheeks. "Oh. I hadn't… I just- There is a great deal of pain in this room," he finally explained without apology. "I despise seeing the men like this. I would do anything to remove the pain from them."

"You and I both, General," Kix agreed. He tried to move away in an effort to treat more of the men, but General Kenobi caught at his arm. Before he could fight the reaction, Kix gave a noticeable flinch.

With an apologetic grimace, Kenobi dropped his hand and said, "There's one man I worry about more than these. Dogma is in bad shape. I don't feel anything from him at all in the Force. It isn't a good sign. I know you're busy, but..."

"I'll check on him, sir," Kix assured him, moving away with a medic's clipped steps. At the moment, it still felt more fantasy than reality, but the need for a plan had helped him build concentration. The medbay was too full to be effective, and he needed to start moving troopers away from the area.

Kix easily found Fives and Jesse, sitting in silence in the back of the room. Having obviously decided that the beds were too crowded - or needed by other men - they had opted to sit on the floor with their backs firmly braced against the wall. "I need you both to direct some of the men out of here."

Fives shook his head. "You can't expect them to leave. They're scared."

"I know, but I can't save anyone if I can't move in here," Kix argued. "I know we've gone through a horrible tragedy, but I need them to find somewhere else. Take them to one of the barracks. They need space and quiet and sleep, if they can manage it. I'll even get the ship's mess to send food and drinks, but they need to be away from here."

Jesse's lips were pale. "I don't know if we can move them, Kix. I don't think I can do it."

Kix's temper sparked, but he kept his voice calm and supportive as he crouched down in front of the troopers. "You are both leaders in the 501st. Fives, you're an ARC trooper. Jesse, your actions back there have you in line for a promotion, I can guarantee it. The men look up to you. You've taken care of them this whole time and you'll keep taking care of them by making sure they get the food and rest that they need. Give me a second to get Captain Trapper from the 212th and you can start moving men to the barracks. Move them in small groups and make sure one of you stays at the barracks with them so they feel safe."

A few moments later, Kix led Trapper back to the others, having explained the plan to him as well. "Start with the men who seem most at ease. The nervous ones will follow once they see the others leaving. If any of the men start to show signs of illness or trauma, bring them back here and I'll take care of them."

Fives gave a decisive nod. "Right. Let's start with the men we know will come along. Jesse, get Tup, Gurr, and Strike. They're good at explaining things to people. I'll get Appo, Fledge, and Quasi. They can start convincing people to come with us."

Obviously catching on to Fives's plan, Jesse added, "We'll try to get as many men with us as we can on the first trip. That might get some of the nervous ones to follow along eventually."

"I'll get a few steady troopers from the 212th to help out," Captain Trapper agreed. "Kix, we'll take them to D-Barracks. In case anyone needs one of the men, that's where you'll find us."

Kix nodded his appreciation and the men started working. It was a surprisingly quick process. After the initial troopers had been informed of the plan and circulated the room for a few minutes, the first group left, leaving the medbay noticeably more quiet than it had been. It took a total of four trips to convince all the stragglers, but Kix was eventually left with only a few of the most drastically injured men, General Kenobi, and Commander Tano.

"Should we go to D-Barracks, too?" Ahsoka asked.

Kix gritted his teeth. "Sorry, Commander. Most of the men just aren't ready to be around the Jedi yet. They need a place they can see as being safe, a type of haven."

Open hurt flashed across the Togruta's face. "I just want to help."

"I know, sir, and the men know, too. Everything is just a little fresh right now," Kix assured her. "General, have you spoken to Commander Cody yet?"

General Kenobi sighed and tugged mournfully at his beard. "I tried, but I could sense that he didn't want me there. I cannot be upset that he blames me for the 212th's part in this tragedy. I blame myself, too."

"Sir, I have never known a commander to look up to their general more than Cody does to you. He needs some time, but he knows the only one to blame for this mess is Krell." He thought for a moment. "Can you find someone to relieve Admiral Yularen?"

"On the bridge?" Kenobi asked, surprised. "I likely could. May I ask why?"

"He isn't a clone, but he isn't a Jedi. He's a member of the GAR who many of the men look up to. His presence may help them heal. If he's willing, of course."

"Of course," General Kenobi agreed, leaving the medbay at a fast pace.

"Is there anything I can do?" Commander Tano asked.

"Can you order some of the food droids from the mess to deliver supplies to the men?" Kix asked. "They'll need food and water, but hot drinks like caf and tea will help with the shock. Admiral Yularen and the Jedi could help with the delivery side of things. It's a good reason to see and be seen by the men without making them feel invaded by the Jedi."

"I'll do that," Ahsoka told him, spinning decisively on her heel. "Thanks, Kix!"

Before she left the medbay, she paused by the doors to look back at him with her expressive face free of the typical Jedi mask. "I'm glad you're okay, Kix. I really am."

"Me too, Commander," he murmured, but she was long gone.

With a nearly empty medbay, Kix fixed his attention on Dogma. The trooper was huddled in the last bed, his wrists fastened together in front of him in a pair of well-used binders. He stared blankly ahead, giving no reaction even when Kix approached him. His normally intelligent face was slack and his right shoulder gave an occasional twitch.

"Dogma," he said softly. There was no response, and Kix repeated the trooper's name without hope of him answering.

He took a bioscan of Dogma's current state, unsurprised to find that his blood pressure and pulse were high. "Dogma, it's Kix. Can you hear me?"

After a long moment, Dogma repeated tonelessly, "...hear me?"

"Come on, vod," Kix cajoled. "I need you to come back here. Come back, Dogma. You're here, you're safe."

"...safe," Dogma echoed. His brows crinkled slightly, the minor shift seeming tremendously important with his lack of other response. "Not safe. Never safe."

"You are safe," Kix insisted. "You're safe, Dogma. You've made us all safe. No more Krell. You can come back now."

"Krell…" Dogma's eyes lit with recognition of the name and his entire face crumpled a moment later under the weight of the memories. "I killed him. I killed a Jedi."

"A traitor," Kix said firmly. "He wasn't a Jedi. No Jedi would have done what he did."

"He was a commanding officer," Dogma replied, sounding almost like his regulation-quoting self if not for the thickness in his voice. "I killed a commanding officer. The regs say I'll be court-martialed and found guilty. They'll either execute me or lock me away for the rest of my life. I'm not sure which is worse."

Kix rested a hand on Dogma's shoulder, unable to keep it from tightening as he felt the trembling in his brother's body. "You did what you had to do. Not only for us, but for all of the Republic. Krell was a traitor and he deserved to die. Should have died slower, if you ask me. You were too merciful."

Dogma gave a slight chuckle at that, though there was no joy in his eyes. "That's an interesting take on the situation. I don't think the GAR will follow your logic."

"I'll talk to whoever needs to hear me - anyone who will listen," Kix told him fiercely. "You took out a threat. That's what we're trained to do. You're a hero. You should be given a medal, not face a court-martial."

"Even the other men are avoiding me," Dogma said with a shake of his head.

Kix laughed. "Because you killed that ori'dush shabuir? Most of the men want to shake your hand."

Dogma laughed, but the sound quickly turned to stifled sobs and he began to tremble uncontrollably. When Kix was unable to get another response from Dogma and the trooper's blood pressure began soaring to dangerous levels, he administered a mild sedative and waited by the bedside until Dogma's scans showed normal levels once more.

After Dogma fell into a drug-assisted sleep, Kix moved quickly to his desk, opened a link to the holonet, and proceeded to abuse his medical access privileges.

"Kix?" Senator Amidala asked, her confused frown evident even through the unstable connection of the hololink. "Anakin told me what happened on Umbara. I am so sorry-"

"Sorry, ma'am, I don't have much time," Kix interrupted. Thankfully, the senator didn't seem offended. "I have the trooper here who finally put an end to General Krell. He's facing a court-martial and they'll most likely rule against him. I don't want to put you in an uncomfortable position, but is there anything you can do?"

Senator Amidala fell silent, and Kix appreciated that she was taking the time to fully consider his question. "The Senate and the Grand Army of the Republic don't operate jointly, but I think I can find a way to bring this to the Senate's attention since there are clone rights bills on the floor. I will need a few details and I'll warn you that it'll become a publicity circus. Is your trooper all right with that?"

"It's better than death, ma'am," Kix said firmly.

"That is true," she agreed softly. "Send me a file with as much information as you can and I'll put together something. The Senate won't meet tomorrow, but that should give me enough time to get something ready. When will you land on Coruscant?"

"A little less than a standard week from now."

"That should be plenty of time, then."

Senator Amidala's confidence was enough to ease the burden on Kix's shoulders. "Thank you, Senator. I can't tell you what this will mean to Dogma - to all of the men, really."

"It's the right thing to do, Kix," she said, voice filled with conviction. "You and your brothers deserve consideration as thinking beings as well as for the work you do in service of the Republic. We'll give Dogma the best possible chance that we can."

"I couldn't ask for anything more," Kix told her fervently.

---

A/N - Thank you for reading! Please reblog!

[punkcupcakestyles]

Love Song

Part 16

Catch up!

So, this was skinny dipping

Word count: 20k+

Rushing down the stairs was a bad idea. I knew it as soon as I stepped down into the living room. I could feel pain taking over my body and rising up my spine, and my muscles screamed at me to stop, to just give up. It wasn’t like Harry was looking for me. He hadn’t even left the room, he had let me walk away from him.

And I didn’t know if the void in my chest was because I didn’t care, or because I cared too much. It was a new kind of pain that weighed on my limbs and made my body feel heavy, and as if even breathing drained my energy. My chest burned, feeling tighter with every new breath, and I felt as if everyone around me was looking at me, pointing their fingers and watching as I had a slow meltdown. 

For a second, I thought about giving in and sitting there on the floor so I could cry all of my feelings out. I didn’t need them or had any use for them, no one to pour them out for. Sam was just confused. Harry certainly didn’t give a fuck. Maybe then, I would remember that I was just fine all by myself. And I would remember that love sucked, any-fucking-way. 

“There you are!” If only I had noticed a second before, I would’ve been able to hide, but before I knew, Diana had popped out of nowhere, and she was already making me follow her through the room, as she made her way to the pool, where the lights were brighter, and the air was cleaner. D was wearing a simple blue dress and a leather jacket, and her long blonde hair was thrown into a messy bun. She wasn’t wearing any makeup, and Jesus Christ, she didn’t need it. She looked fucking gorgeous. A tiny little fairy that would bite you if you got too close. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere! Where were you?” She asked accusingly but waved her hand dismissively before I had a chance to answer. “Y’know what? I don’t need to know. C’mon, we need to take photos for the ‘gram.” 

Usually, I would hastily pull my hand away, and roll my eyes at her so she would notice (and ignore) my annoyance, but this time, I followed meekly. Her touch felt so real, and everything else was so blurry and faded, it was almost comforting. Her hand was small and she had her nails painted a greenish-blue and I made a mental note to ask her for the shade name. 

“Are you ok?” She asked as we came to a halt, and she looked at me expectantly with those huge eyes of hers. And I considered telling the truth, I did. I considered telling her that I felt like my heart had crippled into a tiny ball and that I had a sudden, panicky and crushing feeling that I was destined to live without really knowing what it was like to be loved. But that seemed like the kind of conversation that I would rather not have. Ever. 

“Yes,“ I replied, squeezing her fingers lightly between mine, and trying to be reassuring and believable. It seemed like I had failed, cause she glared at me for a second, and opened her mouth as if she was ready to say something. She sighed, and whatever it was that she was to say hung in the air heavily. “Please, don’t say ‘gram,” I joked, as I resisted the urge to swat the air to dissipate the silence that was screaming at me. 

“I’ll think about it,” Diana smiled softly and rolled her eyes playfully, and I relaxed as a result. I was safe. “Now, pose.”

“Say please…” I teased. 

“Oh, fuck off…” That was all I got. 

I hated taking photos, there was always something to criticize, I always had to think about my smile, my hair, my left cheek which was considerably bigger than my right one and it was only noticeable in pictures. But I did as I was told, and smiled brightly at the camera when I was instructed to do so. What was the point in fighting it anyway? It was easier to sell the dream, I had a lot more to gain from it. I was a happy girl, in the middle of a party to celebrate her boyfriend, Harry Fucking Styles. This girl had her head in the clouds. 

“Good, I think I have it. Y’know what? We should go look for Harry so we can take a few with him. Do you think he’ll be up for that?” It was a good thing that Diana was distracted looking at the photos, cause then she couldn’t notice the sheer panic that crossed my face at the mention of Harry’s name.

No, let’s not look for him. 

If I saw Harry, if I spoke to him, I was going to cry, or worse, I was probably going to beg. The idea alone cut my ego like a knife. But most importantly, I already suspected what the answer was going to be, and I didn’t feel like hearing it.  

Funny enough, we both saw him at the same time. He had changed into a buttoned-down shirt and high-waisted pants, and my heart stopped as he looked in my direction, towering over the room from the middle of the stairs. I wasn’t sure if he could see me, but my knees wobbled a bit at the sight of him. Anxiety took over my body and I kept looking at both Harry and Diana, just to see if she would notice if I just ran away. 

“There he is! Jesus, you two are impossible tonight,” D exclaimed, as she started to make her way to him. I bet she didn’t expect me to grab her briskly and pull her back to me, which made her topple on her feet because her eyes went wild and a little bit murderous when she looked at me. “What?” She spat and at that very moment, I realized that I didn’t have a plan, and if I did, I had only gotten to the first part: getting the fuck out of that house. So I smiled stupidly at her, wishing that my brain worked faster. 

“I’m...I’m hungry, D…” I said. Someone had grabbed Harry for a chat, which probably gave me seconds. I had seconds to leave that house. “I want a milkshake. Can we go get one?”

“You’re on a diet, of course not,” Diana said, and she turned back around, ready to go look for Harry. But I was insistent, and my fingers wouldn’t let go of her arm, keeping her right where she was. 

‘You can lose a pound or two’ were the exact words that the producers had used before they sent me to the most in-demand trainer in the city. So sugar was out and lifting weights, doing 100 squats a day and jumping jacks were in.  

“Then, a burger,” I offered brightly. “I can ask for lettuce instead of bread!”

“You can’t eat meat, S. It makes you all bloated and you know it. What’s going on??”

I was willing to risk it. 

“Nothing, I’m just hungry,” I scowled. It didn’t matter anyway, cause I had lost my chance to leave with some of my pride still intact.

Harry seemed tired and pissed, I could feel the intense waves that rolled off his body as he looked at me. The hinges of his jaw popped up, he was clenching his teeth so hard. A chill ran down my spine and I struggled to look away from him. So our eyes met and I felt myself getting paralyzed as I looked at him getting closer to me. 

I was fully aware that I was an insufferable idiot and that nothing was going to happen. Nor Harry Styles, the singer, or Sofia Welsh-De La Rosa, the actress, could afford the scandal or the unbridled media attention. No, we preferred to control the narrative, it made us look like we had our lives together. So we would simply end the night with smiles and heart eyes on our faces, to Diana, Midge, and Jeff’s delight, and go our separate merry ways as soon as we could.

If he needed me, he could call Diana, and if I needed him...well, I was going to do everything in my power to not need him. 

I took a deep breath to steady myself and repeated mentally that everything was ok. I just needed to play the role, cause that was what everyone was expecting from me: To play the role I had been hired for. Somewhere along the way, I had forgotten that and I was the only one to blame. There was nothing more, even the nights I had spent in his bed meant nothing. I was filling empty spaces, taking a place so it wouldn’t go cold. His sweet words were meant for another girl. His touch just meant to keep him occupied. And I was playing a role, nothing more. 

So, I breathed out and smiled brightly at him, as brightly as the hole in my chest would allow. I had to remember that Harry’s girlfriend was not heartbroken, she didn’t feel the need to cry cause she had gotten her stupid hopes up. She was happy and she was loved by the man in front of her. Everything was right in her world. 

“Hi,” I whispered as Harry stood next to me, and I leaned to him, brushing my lips against his cheek. His breath was sharp and shallow and I could feel it fawning over my skin when he looked at me. It made the little hairs on the nape of my neck stand at attention. Silly me, it almost seemed as if he wanted to kiss me. 

“Can we talk?” He asked in the same whispering tone.

“No.”

“Sof…” Harry sighed, and I chose to ignore him, still smiling at him, which probably frustrated him to no end. 

“D wants to take photos of us. Do you mind?” I asked instead. 

Diana seemed like she didn’t want to get caught in the middle of it, and she cleared her throat awkwardly, looking everywhere but us. It was unlike her, because under normal circumstances, she would be tapping her foot, and crossing her arms over her chest as she impatiently pushed us into place. Right now, she stood there, looking at us and doing nothing of the sort. 

“Well, I, uh, I thought maybe I could take some pictures of you guys acting like a couple, like candids, but, uh, we don’t have to do that,” She said. “But it’s ok if you don’t want to. It seems like you guys have stuff to deal with.”

“I don’t want to,” Harry confirmed. “And Sof, please, let’s talk.”

“We’re good, Harry. We have nothing to talk about,” I said and mentally patted myself on my back for not letting my voice wobble. Harry, on the other hand, didn’t look so happy, not even as I smiled adoringly and sweetly at him. His angry stance was coming back, the kind of anger that bubbles under your skin and waits for the right moment to explode. So I was careful as I looped my arms around his neck, and swayed a bit, my eyes focusing on the small freckle next to his lip. If I leaned closer just an inch, I could kiss it. I could kiss him, slowly and sweetly. 

My knees wobbled again when Harry looked at me. 

Being so close to him was not a good idea, cause he smelled sweet and clean, and his blue shirt was soft to the touch, and for a second there, I pictured myself wearing it wide open, with only a pair of pink lace panties, while I lied on his bed. He would hover over me, pressing kisses on my supple skin as he settled himself between my legs. 

Stop. 

“Then, let me talk.”

His fingers burned little holes on my skin wherever he touched me, and I struggled to pull myself back to reality. I had nowhere to go to, he was all-encompassing, all I could breathe and see. 

“I don’t wanna hear it, Harry. I just want something to show on my Instagram feed, keep people talking.”

“Why would we do that?” Harry’s smile was sad as if he already knew the answer and he didn’t like it, not one bit. 

“Cause that’s how PR relationships work. You need promo, and so do I, so why not?”

“Don’t say that…”

“Oh, I wasn’t the one that said it.”

“Sof…”

“It’s ok. I’m not mad.” As the words rolled off my tongue, I knew I wasn’t lying. I wasn’t mad, I was something else. “But I get it if you don’t want to. I don’t want to get you in trouble with your girlfriend. So maybe I should go.”

“Don’t.”

“And maybe we should keep this as professional as we can. If you need me, you should call Diana. And, uh, yeah, I need to go.” The air was faltering, and I was not going to be able to hold back the tears that were threatening to spill down.

I noticed that Diana stopped Harry from following me, which I was incredibly thankful for. I rushed through the room, and barely made it out and into my car before the panic came. 

It was alright. Everything was just fine. 

****

Sofia Welsh died alone, leaving behind 4 ex-spouses, no kids, and 4 cats she was allergic to, Eeny, Meeny, Miney and Mo. The time and manner of her death remain unknown. A neighbor called the police after the stench coming from her house became unbearable. The myth about her cats eating her face was just that, a myth...

I was going to be a tragic story from Hollywood, wasn’t I? Ryan Murphy would lick his fingers just thinking about it. 

****

@H

Baby, are you ok?

****

@H

Sof, I’m worried, please answer. 

****

@D

Are you ok?

Please let me know if I should reschedule your training this week. 

****

@H

I know you’re mad and it’s my fault, but I can explain

Can I go to your house? It feels like you’ve never told me if I’m allowed to. 

****

@Midge

Let’s talk about your idea of going back to college. I think we can get you into a really good one if you’d like. 

Did you like the car I sent you? You haven’t said anything about it. 

****

@D

Where are you?

****

@Sam

Wanna hang out? I'm bored…

Pizza and Hocus Pocus? It is October after all.

****

@Midge

Fenty wants you for their new underwear campaign. I think it’s a good move. Let’s chat on Friday, lunch’s on me. 

****

@D

ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME, SOFIA? WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU?

DO NOT MAKE ME GO TO YOU HOUSE LOOKING FOR YOU

CAUSE I WILL

****

@Sam

I just called Cat, she told me you haven’t left your room in days, are you ok?

****

@H

I know it’s late, but I can’t fucking sleep until I talk to you.

****

Good, I couldn’t sleep either. 

I wasn’t even sad, I didn’t feel a fucking thing, but in the worst way possible, where everything hurts, but you just cannot point to what hurts the most, so I was stuck there, suffocating and gasping for air like a fucking dying fish.

I kept watching Schitt’s Creek reruns. The colors from the tv show kept blending in and I looked at it for the first time in a while, wondering how many episodes I had “watched” by now. Mostly, I had been staring at the wall, as I tried to be good and quiet, so slumber would finally come to me. And it did, a few times actually, only to be chased off by the dizzying nightmares. 

I knew I had fallen asleep cause sometimes, when I opened my eyes there was food on my bedside table, a steaming bowl of soup, mac and cheese (no milk, no butter, not too much cheese), broccoli and carrots with chicken and hummus, and every other dish that my nutritionist had previously approved. One time there was even a piece of oreo cheesecake, with the gooey chocolate sauce tempting me to eat it right away. Maybe with a scoop of ice cream. 

I didn’t know if I had eaten any of it. I probably hadn’t. 

4 days without sleep can do mean things to your brain. 

***

Sam could read my thoughts, I was sure of it. 

I opened the door to my room and smiled when I saw him, with his boyish smile that made his eyes crinkle and the stupidly deep dimples on his cheek, standing in front of me. He was wearing a nice button-down shirt, black jeans, and a pair of Air Jordans I had gotten him for his birthday, thinking he looked fly as hell. I still thought they were the ugliest shoes I had ever seen, but Sam seemed to love them. He was holding a medium-sized tube of ice cream, and a plate of freshly done and gooey dark chocolate brownies, my favorites. But it was late, and I probably shouldn’t eat any of it if I wanted to have even the smallest chance of sleeping that night

“Hey,” he whispered and I stepped to the side to let him and closed the door behind him.

“You do know I’m on a diet, right?” I asked him. Sam was already taking his shoes off and propping his feet on my bed, to make himself comfortable. 

“We don’t need to tell anyone.”

“So, the calories won’t count?”

“Of course not. They only count if you worry about them.”

“I don’t think that’s quite how it works.” The corner of my lips twisted into a smile and I made my way to sit on my side of the bed. There was a large space between us, and we both settled on, lying on a sea of pillows. Sam put his hands over his tummy and I could see them rising every time he breathed deeply. 

We stayed quiet for a while, while Sam looked for the exact movie he wanted. When he landed on Hocus Pocus, a childish grin curled up his lips and he turned to me as if he was waiting for me to approve his choice. We had watched Hocus Pocus at least 1,000 times since we were kids, just as we had watched every Halloween themed choice ever since, a tradition that we now shared with my mom and Cat.  

“You look handsome,” I told him. The smell of the brownies made my tummy grumble and I finally caved in, picking the corner of it to eat it. It was still warm, and the outside was crunchy, while the inside was gooey and soft. 

“I was supposed to have dinner with Annie.”

“Oh, what happened?” I asked, pretending that it didn’t bother me. It shouldn’t bother me. But sadness fluttered in my tummy and there was nothing I could do to stop it or understand it. 

“You didn’t answer my texts.” Sam turned to me, with a sheepish smile already on his face. “And Diana called me to ask if I had seen you, so I guessed it was serious and came to check on you.”

“Oh...I’m sorry…”

“It’s ok, Sof. At least, I wasn’t the only one you were ignoring this time.”

“I, uh, I wasn’t ignoring you, Sam.”

“Yeah, you were, but it’s alright. I’m guessing I should figure out the answer all by myself.”

“Sam, I…”

I didn’t know what I was going to say. I just started letting the words out of my lips before I could form an actual answer in my brain. But before I could do that, a crashing sound cut me off, and I was up on my feet even before the echo stopped ringing in the air. Sam followed me, running down the stairs just as fast as I was.

Anxiety had my brain working as fast as it could go, and the worst scenarios flashed in front of my eyes: fire, burglars, floodings, and even a tornado, they all took over my brain for a microsecond. So when we finally got to the end of the stairs, I thought my brain was maybe playing tricks on me. 

Harry was crouched on the floor, as he picked up the shards of a green mug. A dark liquid had spilled all over, and Cat was looking down at him, as red as she could get, while my mom muttered rushed excuses to the boy in front of her, helping him get the broken pieces before someone could get hurt.

“I’m so sorry, you don’t have to do this,” she assured him, but he just shook his head and smiled, that dashing, fucking pretty smile of his, and handed her the pieces he had collected. “It’s alright,” he said, and I felt my knees wobble at the sound of his voice. It was just as sweet and soothing as I remembered it. “It was my fault anyway, I startled Cat.”

What the fuck was going on?

“Oh, honey, there you are!!” my mom exclaimed as she finally noticed my presence. She was standing next to Harry, wearing a bright yellow cardigan over a white t-shirt and a pair of black leggings. Her hair was in one of Cat’s braids, a perfect crown around her head. She seemed happy, her cheeks were a little bit flushed and she looked at Harry with a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Look who’s here to see you,” my mom said, almost teasingly. “I was about to call you, but Cat had a little accident.”

The culprit was standing by my mom’s side, as quiet as she could be. Her face was still crimson red, and she was looking down at the floor, unwilling to look at us, especially at Harry. Cat was no longer a kid, she was getting as tall as my mom, and she even used some of my clothes, a full teen among us. But it was as if she wanted to make herself as small as she possibly could right now. 

“It was my fault,” Harry mumbled, but his mind was elsewhere. It was on Sam and me, and the fact that we had come down the stairs together, that it was so late at night and I was just wearing pajama shorts and a loose crop top. Any other time, I would have ventured to say that he was jealous. 

“So, Sam, darling, come with me, help me with dessert,” My mom called and Sam obeyed meekly. “I’m guessing you’re staying for dinner, Harry.”

“I wouldn’t want to be a bother…” Harry smiled at my mom and she beamed right back before she looked at me pointedly. I knew exactly what I was supposed to say. 

“You won’t,” I said to her delight. “It’ll be a pleasure,” I added, just for kicks. Harry smiled at Cat and my mom and excused himself before he followed me upstairs. 

“What do you want?” I asked him as soon as we reached my room and we were out of earshot from my family. 

I had never pictured Harry standing in my room, with his graphic t-shirt and his blue jeans. But there he was, gazing around my pink duvet and lavender pillowcases. He looked at the photo on my nightstand, a picture of my mom, Cat, and I, with the Eiffel Tower shining tall behind us. I had taken us to Paris as soon as I had the money to, and we walked around like crazy, pigged out on overpriced macaroons in a fancy store on Champs Elysées, and got back to our fancy hotel rooms completely knackered every night, with our feet swollen from how much we had walked. My dad had taken us to Paris before, but this time we did it as free women...and Cat. I fucking loved that photo. 

“I was worried,” Harry said.

“You didn’t have to worry.”

“You don’t worry because you have to, you worry because you fucking do,” he shrugged. “And you didn’t answer my texts or calls. And I get you’re ignoring me, but…I just wanted to make sure that you were ok.”

“I’m fine.” I crossed my arms over my chest and sat on my bed, refusing to look at him, with that sweet smile of his, and the concerned frown that formed on his forehead. He had no fucking business looking like that. He had no right to make me feel so much. 

“I’m sorry I interrupted your date.”

“It’s ok,” I replied. I didn’t feel like correcting him, because if I did, I might have to accept the fact that I had spent my days weeping about losing him, and that was not necessary at all.

“But uh, D told me we should set a date to end things. I figured I should talk to you first.” 

Set a date. Oh.

I knew that was the logical step to take, so we could move on with our lives. That way Harry could go back to her, and I...well, I could go back to whatever the fuck I was doing before. Setting a date just made it real. 

The smart part of my brain knew that my heart couldn’t break, it couldn’t do that, not out of love. But still, I could feel it breaking into a billion pieces, and the little shards poking around my chest, so it hurt just a little bit more. 

“I think you should talk to D,” I said, short and to the point, because if I talked too much, I was probably going to cry. And by now, I was fucking tired of crying. 

“Why? I’m not in a relationship with Diana. I don’t give a fuck what she thinks.”

“Technically, you’re not in a relationship with me either,” I offered him a small smile, rubbing my hands on my side in a nervous manner. His eyes followed them and he opened up his mouth to say something, but let a sigh out instead and ran his fingers through his already messy hair. 

“Then be my girlfriend, Sof,” he said softly, just as he gazed up to me. His words caught me by surprise, and I looked at him in astonishment. My heart had lodged itself in my throat, and I had to make an effort to take a deep breath. 

“Don’t be unfair, Harry,” I muttered. I wanted to laugh, but it came out like a dry chuckle, too sad and unhappy to fool anyone. “You need to figure things out before you can ask me that.”

“No,” Harry smiled, softly and sweetly, and I felt my heart break again if that was even possible. “And I’m not being unfair, I’m just…” He stopped when he looked at me, and he bit on the corner of his lips, mulling over his words before he let out a heavy sigh. “I sleep better when I’m with you, and whenever you’re not with me, I miss you and I wanna hear your voice. And I know you do too, ‘cause I hold you tight when you’re having those bad dreams, and I wish you would just open up to me and tell me what those are about, cause I fucking worry. And I know I can’t yell or talk too loud to you, because you’ll get scared, and that you like to pretend you’re living a simple life cause you’re scared about losing everything, but you still rehearse your Oscar’s speech in the shower. And I know you will do anything for the people you love, even telling me to go back to my ex, cause you think that’ll make me happy. So, no, I don’t need to figure it out. I want you to give me a chance.”

No words would come out of my mouth. Not even a sound. I looked at Harry with scarily big eyes, I was sure of it, and remained in my spot on the bed. My fingers curled around the covers and I made a ball out of the fabric, only to smooth it out nervously.

“Sof…Look at me.” I did as I was told, looking at Harry in the eye as he got closer to me until he was standing between my legs and I noticed that there were people having sex in his shirt. He crouched in front of me, and his fingers pressed softly to my thighs, burning tiny holes in my skin. My tongue darted to my lips and I closed my eyes when he took my hands in his. His touch felt so right, so calming and lovely. “Talk to me.”

I was trapped in a vicious circle. His presence made my tummy tight, and I wished for nothing more than to kiss him, slowly, lavishly. Hold his hands and let them embrace me. I was hungry for his touch. But I was also fucking scared, so much that it was numbing. I didn’t know what to do with all of these feelings, didn’t have anyone to look up to when it came to them. If I thought about my mom, well, that wasn’t ideal, selfishness and pain, unrequited love, and a toxic relationship. Most of my life I had spent pining over Sam and even that had been a fantasy. And then came Harry, in all of his glory and all of his brightness, with his sweet kisses and the way he made me feel, and it was so easy to let myself fall. But he chose her, even when he didn’t, and I felt like a second choice secured in a transactional agreement. And it made me feel sick. 

But the thought of letting him go made me feel even worse. 

When Cat opened the door, she found us just like that, holding hands and staring at each other as I struggled to come up with words. She cleared her throat because that was the polite thing to do, and I felt relieved to have found a way out. 

What was I supposed to say? I still didn’t have an answer for that. Cause a part of me wanted to jump into his arms, but the other part, the loudest one, was so fucking scared, I wanted to protect her and tell her everything was just fine. 

“Dinner’s ready,” she said, smiling shyly as she closed the door behind her. 

Fuck. 

My mom was expecting me and my boyfriend to come to join them for dinner, even if I had never told her that Harry was my boyfriend. I wouldn’t even know how to start that conversation, if I was being honest, I had never even admitted to my mom that I liked anyone. My feelings were usually in a box, primly tucked away and safe from everyone. They didn’t matter, cause they were usually unrequited, silly and juvenile, not something to make a fuss about. This time was no different, other than the fact that I was willing to shove whatever feelings I had into the deep end of the box, unlabeled and unexplained until I could forget about them.

“Harry... Could I ask for a favor?”

“You need me to pretend everything’s fine?” He said, not missing a beat as I let his hands go to get up from the bed. I picked up the ice cream tube and the plate of brownies, trying to get myself busy so I wouldn’t have to look at him for too long. If I did, I knew that my knees would tremble. 

“Please...I know it’s weird...”

“Sure. It looks like this is the last time I’ll get to see you, so I don’t give a fuck about weird,” Harry shrugged, and his words took a moment to sink in, making me stop and turn to look at him when they finally did.  

“What do you mean?” I asked, but I didn’t need an answer. Panic was already starting to settle in my bones, making my heart pound so loudly, I could hear the beat. 

“I won’t beg, Sof,” he said simply. He wouldn’t beg and I was a fucking idiot. He didn’t need to add that last part for me to know it was true. A gigantic idiot. 

So, I did the only thing that occurred to me: I got mad. Put the plate and ice-cream down and crossed my arms over my chest as I frowned at him. I looked offended, outraged as if I had the right to be any of those things. 

“But we have a deal, Harry!” I exclaimed and Harry smiled softly at me. He was tired. I was tiring, I knew that. 

“You’re released, Sof. We don’t have to do this anymore.”

“I am a woman of my word, Harry,” I bit, haughtily. “I don’t need to be released. I know you’re in a hurry to rekindle your relationship, but…”

“Oh, fuck off, Sofia,” he cut me off, and I pretty much had to run to keep up with him, as he made his way to the kitchen, where my family was already sitting around the kitchen island. 

Dinner was already served, and plates of pasta and salad were waiting for us. We usually had dinner around the kitchen island, where we had placed six comfortable velvety blue dining chairs, just in case we had any visitors, and I sat in front of Cat and between my mom and Sam if he was around. This time, we were assigned the two seats by the end of the row, right next to Sam. Harry took the spot next to Sam and put his arm on the back of my chair, as he smiled sweetly at me. No one would ever believe that we had been arguing just a few moments before. 

“So, Harry,” my mom said, as she served herself a whole lot of salad, and put almost as much on Cat’s plate. “I’ve been told you’re a singer.”

“I am,” Harry smiled at her, sincerely and warmly. Perhaps he wasn’t used to people not knowing exactly who he was. “I used to be in a band, and now I’m doing my own thing. Have you ever been to a concert, Cat?”

My sister, who was in the middle of biting a huge piece of spinach, was completely taken by surprise by the question, and she put the fork down before gulping largely. Her cheeks were pink and she looked at me for a second, before she looked back at Harry. 

“I went to 1D’s last concert in L.A. Sam took me. Sof was supposed to come with me, but she couldn’t make it,” she said cautiously, readying herself with details in case Harry wanted to check on her story. But Harry looked at me, with a huge grin already curling up his lips. 

“I thought you didn’t know who I was. But you liked me enough to go to one of my concerts, uh?”

Well, that was not exactly what I said. 

“I told you Cat liked your music. And I got the tickets for cheap.” That was definitely not true. They were expensive as fuck, poor little me had to work two shifts forever to pay them up. 

“Oh, c’mon, baby, gimme this,” Harry chuckled and I rolled my eyes, licking my lips and sighing in feigned annoyance before I gave in. 

“I had to save a lot because back then I was a waitress, and I was trying to become an actress and go to college, so every penny counted. But, it didn’t matter, cause Cat and I wanted to go to that concert. That day, I, uh, I worked a day-long shift, cause I was taking the next day off, and I had gotten a call for a really small part in a movie, and they wanted to shoot that afternoon. They told me that I would be in and out in an hour, cause they just wanted to reshoot a small scene, and it had to be quick, but the actress was so drunk, she could barely stand, much less say her lines, so we had to do about 1,000 takes, and we were there forever. So I couldn’t make it to the concert, but, uh, the director told me I was a real champ, and she called me for her next movie, and...here I am…”

“So, I could’ve met you all those years ago,” Harry told me, a small, sweet and sincere smile spreading on his lips. 

“Oh, no, we didn’t have backstage tickets,” I shook my head and laughed, cocking my head to the side as Harry took my hand in his and laced our fingers on top of the counter. 

“I would’ve noticed you in the crowd,” Harry insisted. “You and Cat would have been the prettiest girls in the crowd, I wouldn’t have been able to take my eyes off of you, baby.”

Cat blushed up to her ears. My mom smiled delightedly. I rolled my eyes. 

I would’ve kissed him. I should have kissed him. 

“He is charming,” my mom said, reminding us that they were still there. “And he knows what to say.”

Harry didn’t let my hand go until we started eating and even then, his hand rested on my thigh, the bare skin of my legs covered with goosebumps. I forgot about everything else, about his question and my fears, and I allowed myself to enjoy dinner, and the warmth of the room, and the comfort of Harry’s touch. I felt sleepy and full, and I leaned to him, pressing my forehead to his shoulder as I sighed. He was sweet and familiar, and he was so close that I could press my lips to the curve of his neck. 

I was too satisfied, so much that I could almost ignore the scowl on Sam’s face.

“Harry, would you like to join us to watch a movie?” My mom asked as we finished eating, and after Harry insisted on helping with the dishes. Cat and I were sharing a brownie, while Sam seemed to be incredibly interested in whatever was happening on his phone. “We like to watch Halloween movies in October, and Sam and Sof were watching Hocus Pocus, but I think we could give The Witches a chance tonight. Or maybe Halloweentown.”

“I don’t think I’ve watched any of those,” Harry said, going back to his place next to me and stealing a piece of my brownie.  

“Oh, my God! How could you not have watched The Witches or Halloweentown?” I asked, appalled by the information. 

“I don’t think I have, no.”

“We can no longer be friends, Harry.” 

This made him smile mischievously, and a shiver ran up my spine as he looked at me, leaning back until I could feel his warm breath fanning over my skin. “It’s a good thing we’re not just friends, then,” Harry whispered and my skin covered with goosebumps when his lips softly brushed mine, and he kissed me lightly before he pulled away. 

I was hot red, I was sure of it, I could feel the heat surging from my face, and Harry was enjoying it. His lips were still curled in a wicked smile, which got bigger as Sam looked away from us. 

We didn’t have a proper movie room as Harry did. But we had a ridiculously big TV screen and a comfortable couch full of pillows and blankets, where we usually cuddled up to each other and watched movies and ate pizza. So we went there, and my mom offered a velvety blue blanket to Harry and me, so we could share it. Cat brought popcorn, M&M, sorted nuts, and lemonade, and settled them in the large coffee table in front of the couch, so we could serve ourselves. 

I don’t think I made it to half of the movie before I fell asleep, cuddled up to Harry’s chest, and with his arms looped around my waist. It was easy to do, much easier than when I was by myself. I was lulled by his breathing, and by the lovely warmth of his body. I could feel the rumbles of his chest whenever he talked, and the sweet brush of his lips when he pressed soft kisses on top of my head. 

So when the movie came to an end and we had to get up, my body refused to let him go, and I kept our fingers intertwined as I leaned into his hug. I made him wait until everyone went to their room, as we laid on the couch, cuddled up to each other. 

“Stay,” I whispered as soon as we were alone. I couldn’t see Harry’s face, cause my mom had a whole thing about leaving lights on, but I knew he was looking at me, his whole attention focused on that tiny word. “Please.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, we don’t have to do anything...I just...I’m having nightmares…”

“And you want me to cuddle you to chase them away?”

“Yes.”

“Then, I’ll stay,” he replied and I nodded, cause there was no need to say anything else. 

****

I didn’t have nightmares. Not one. I slept through the night. 

But this was not a typical morning with him. Usually, I would wake up to his kisses, softly pressed to my shoulders, my forehead, my nose, my lips, everywhere he could reach. Usually, he liked to play in the morning, if time allowed. 

It was different this time. He had already woken up and was on his phone. Sleep was still etched on his eyes, and he rubbed them lightly, with a little pout on his lips. He was shirtless, and the sheets were pooling around his waist, and even though I knew he had boxers on, black, tight, fucking inviting, it almost seemed like he was naked. I felt like a creepy intruder. 

“Hi,” I mumbled, bringing the sheets up to my chest as I turned to my side to look at him. Sitting like he was, I could focus on his profile, the sharp edges of his jaw, the couple of freckles that adorned his face, and the way his nostrils flared up a bit around the pointy tip. I liked it when he smiled, but that seemed like a lot to ask under the circumstances. 

“Hey,” Harry replied, putting his phone down on his lap to look down at me. “Did you get some sleep?”

“Yeah...thank you.”

“Why would you thank me?” He asked, chuckling lightly and looking at me with curiosity. 

“For staying,” I said earnestly. “You were right, I do sleep better when you’re around. How about you?”

“I hadn’t slept in 3 or 4 days. I slept through the night yesterday.”

“That’s inconvenient, isn’t it?” 

“What is?”

“That I can only sleep when I’m next to you,” I said in a low breath, lying on my back to avoid looking at him. I didn’t say ‘we’, I didn’t want to assume, or have him correct me and tell me he slept just fine without me. That he had plenty of choices, he was going to survive me. 

“It is,” Harry replied quietly. He looked at his hands for a second, remaining quiet as he gnawed on his bottom lip. “Do you want me to leave?” He asked and I didn’t even need to think about it to know the answer. No, I didn’t want him to leave. It almost looked like he belonged right there, in my room, in my bed, spending his morning with me.

“I think my mom expects you to stay for breakfast, would you mind?”

“No. But that’s not what I asked, Sof. Do you want me to stay?”

“Yes,” I replied in a low voice. Harry nodded and didn’t say another word, but he visibly relaxed and let himself sink a little bit further into the covers, getting closer to me as he did so. I relaxed as well, just now noticing how tense and stiff I was, almost as if I was holding my breath, gauging if I had to run or if I could stay. It was out of habit, the survival instinct kicking in. I wasn’t afraid, though, I knew what fear felt like. 

“So, I’m the first boy you bring home...” he said teasingly, and this time he gifted me with the hint of a mischievous smile. 

“I didn’t bring you home, you came all by yourself.”

“I needed to know you were alright, I was going a bit crazy. And you asked me to stay, and that’s kind of the same thing, innit?”

“Yes, it is. So far, you’re the only person that’s ever mattered enough.”

“So far?”

“Well, once you leave, I’m gonna have to move on, don’t you think?”

Harry rolled to his side until he was lying next to me, and if I turned my head, our noses could almost touch. The air got hotter, and the fiery tension grew around us as I looked at him. His skin looked so tan against the pastel colors of my sheets, and his wicked smile made me shiver all the way down to my curling toes. 

“I’ve already asked you to be my girlfriend, Sof. I don’t know what else you want from me. Do you want me to swear I will adore you? Cause I can do that.”

“I just want you to be happy, H,” I said. I turned my face and looked at the ceiling, just in case I would cry. “It doesn’t matter if it’s not with me. And I’m pretty sure your heart's not in it.”

“I don’t think it’s fair you get to say where my heart is, Sof.”

“I know. But I’m sure you’re gonna thank me.”

“You’re fucking impossible, Sofia,” Harry grunted and I nodded, cause there was nothing he could say to me that I hadn’t already told myself. I bit my bottom lip and grabbed his hand in mine, with barely enough pressure for him to feel my touch, but still, so he could pull it away if he wanted to. I was hoping he wouldn’t. 

“I’m sorry, Harry,” I said. “Please, don’t go. Not yet.”

****

Harry requested my presence every day that week. Most of the time, there weren’t paps around, not even one. Sometimes, we spent time in his house, or Jeff’s, and no one could see us, other than a small group of his friends or his band. 

Diana called it an organic outing, where we relied mostly on candid pictures taken by unsuspecting people. It was better, she said, because it made it seem like a real thing, and not like a desperate attempt to call attention by calling the paps on yourself. She said people could usually tell. 

Harry didn’t really need me, and that night it wasn’t any different, but there I was, smiling to his friends and sitting on a pile of pillows, while I listened to Alexa Chung as she told me about the many times she had seen him naked “by accident”.

There was plenty of food, I had made sure of it, I had put together different tapas and bowls. Whatever I could not get in Harry’s fridge, I ordered and hid the packaging away, which made it seem like I could make sushi and that Harry was enough of an adult to have enough things in his fridge to make a small plate with hummus, pita, and some olives and a really nice cheese board and even mini-sliders that I had made out of scratch (and brioche buns that I had found in a fancy bakery around Harry’s house). It wasn’t all that pretty, and I was sure my mom would be disappointed by my hosting abilities, but I managed, and that’s what matters.

I couldn’t stop stealing looks at Harry, and smile whenever I found him already looking at me. He looked like a fucking Disney prince, with dark, curly hair and emerald eyes. His tattooed arms only added to his charm, the way his ink spilled skin looked against the crispy white of his shirt. 

It had been 9 days, 13 hours, and a few minutes since we had last kissed.

His arms were probably my favorite part of his body. Or maybe it was his thighs, or his eyes and the way they glinted mischievously when they looked at me. Perhaps, my favorite part was his dimples and their simple stubbornness, shining through his cheeks even when he tried to maintain a serious expression. I was also very fond of his lips and his sweet taste when he kissed me. He was fucking glorious and he knew it. 

I had lost count on how many beers I had had already. Maybe 3, but they could easily be 5. I wasn’t much of a drinker. My vision was already blurry and I let my body sway from side to side as I watched everyone enjoy the food and the alcohol we had served. It was a birthday party but I still had no fucking idea who was I supposed to congratulate, so I just smiled stupidly at everyone, just in case. It seemed like my safest bet. 

Harry took his time to join my little group. He was happy when he did so, and he sat next to me, draping his right arm around my shoulders. I took that as an opportunity to get closer to him, leaning back to his chest as I molded myself to his body. Harry’s hand dropped to my waist and went under my shirt, the warmth of his fingertips making me smile as he pinched my skin between them. He giggled and for a second I couldn’t breathe, I liked him so much. 

Harry hadn’t asked again and I hadn’t given him an answer, and it surrounded us like a heavy fog that didn’t allow us to see any further than our own noses, not even each other. I could feel it in the last couple of days when he would barely talk to me when we were alone and most of our interactions were reserved for other people. But it felt nice to spend some time with him, and I took whatever I could get. I was the one that fucked up, anyway. 

But tonight, it almost felt real, we were us, and I could enjoy the warmth of his body and the soothing richness of his voice. 

“Alexa’s telling me about the time you went skinny-dipping in Italy,” I told him. “But I’m not sure I want to hear any more stories about her and my naked boyfriend.”

“Oh, don’t worry, Sugar,” Alexa smiled, looking at Harry and then at me as if she was confirming her statement before making it. “He’s all yours.”

Oh, Sugar had lots to worry about. Her stupidity most of all.

“You should try it,” he whispered, as his friends fell into a comfortable chat and they forgot about us. 

“Getting naked in front of other people?”

“It’s quite liberating,” Harry smiled and I turned to look at him, with narrowed eyes and a teasing smile. 

“I don’t know, it sounds like one of those things that’s a lot more fun when you’re with someone else. So, I’d have to find someone to want to get naked with me first.”

“As much as I hate to say it, I don’t think you’ll have a problem finding someone to join you,” he told me and I shook my head in response. 

“Mmmm, maybe, but I don’t want someone else,” I whispered. 

If he had something to say, I didn’t get to hear it. We looked at each other for a moment, remaining silent as we did so. We knew better than to have this conversation while surrounded by so many people.

3 hours later, we were finally alone. I was trying to tidy up around the house while Harry talked to his few last guests and walked them to their Lyfts. Once they left, and no one was able to see me, I would be free to go as well, to my empty bed and my recurring nightmares.

We weren’t spending our nights together, and I missed him terribly. 

“Sof?” I heard his voice before I could see him. He was smiling softly at me, and I stood there, in the middle of his living room, just looking at him as he made his way to me. 

“Sorry,” I said with a lopsided smile, one that gave away the slight buzz of alcohol that still ran through my veins. “I’ll leave...” But Harry was still smiling when he took my hand, and I felt the electricity that vibrated out of his skin. It felt like a game, following him around the house until we reached the pool. It was a chilly night.

Harry let my hand go as he went to take his shirt off. His tanned skin glimmered under the moonlight and I let myself enjoy his taut body, taking notice of every tattoo that adorned his skin. I was almost done counting them when Harry took his jeans off, followed by his black boxers. 

He was naked, completely so, and I could only stare at him as if it was the very first time I had seen him like that. I was drinking him, devouring his naked body with my eyes as if it were the last time I got to see it. And maybe it was. 

“Are you gonna let me get naked alone, baby?” Harry teased and I saw him as he dove into the pool, splashing around like a cannonball. It was only then that I reacted, my fingers flying to my lace shirt to pull it off over my head and letting my boyfriend jeans fall to my ankles. 

Harry stared at me from the pool, smirking as he watched me unhook my bra and pull my panties off and kick them so they joined the rest of my clothes. I was way more careful than him when I got into the pool and I waded to him, standing there with a shy smile as I shivered from the cold water. 

So this was skinny dipping. 

We didn’t talk, because doing so would mean that we would have to stop kissing, and I didn’t want that. I was the first one to give in, crashing my lips to his and hooking my legs around his hips as his hands settled on my waist. It was a fucking good kiss, one that made me shiver down my spine and sigh against his lips as the taste of them flooded my mouth. 

The water swayed us, and I could feel his naked skin against mine, my chest squeezed against him, and his cock pressed against my center. 

“I can feel your heartbeat,” Harry whispered, and his words grazed over my skin, at the same time he trailed sweet kisses down my jaw, my neck, my collarbones. If I let him go, just a bit, he would have been able to continue his way down my body, but I wanted to kiss him more, just to make up for all of the kisses I had missed already. 

So, I kissed him slowly and smiled clumsily every time Harry would kiss me harder, igniting a fire in the depths of my tummy, that made me press myself closer to him, so I could feel every inch of his body against mine.

Harry moved us easily to the end of the pool, and I huffed down as I felt the cold tiles. My nails raked over his skin and I allowed myself to break the kiss apart, only so Harry could continue kissing down my neck, licking and nibbling on my skin to his delight. The cold air of the night made me shiver and I threw my head back, as a bubble of bliss pressed tighter between my legs. 

“You’re so fucking gorgeous,” Harry smiled and I felt myself buzz with happiness. 

“You’re the fucking gorgeous one, baby,” I whispered. My fingers had nestled on the nape of his neck and I played with the wet ends of his hair, while my nose bumped against his. “Fuck me right here, would ya?”

“Are you in a hurry, Sof?” He laughed. My cheeks felt hot and I looked away, focusing on a lawn chair that was by the far end of the pool. 

“Well, I know I might regret it if we don’t do it. But you’re right, it’s probably a silly idea.”

“I never said that. Don’t let your head tell you that, baby. And by the way, I love it when you call me baby.”

We kissed some more, slowly and hungrily, because I wanted to and because we could. 

We had all the time in the world. 

Harry squeezed my ass and pressed us closer, as his hips rocked against mine, as the water swayed us. He licked and sucked on my nipples, and smirked with every new moan that elicited from my throat. 

“Now you’re just torturing me,” I said. Harry smiled. It was true. 

“I’ll behave.”

“Oh, I don’t want you to behave,” I smirked. Lust flashed in his eyes and he offered me a grin that made my tummy bubble. “Make it worth the drive home while all soaked.”

“I was hoping you’d stay. Help me sleep better tonight.”

“That’s the only reason you want me to stay?”

“I have a few others…”

“Well, as long as you need me.”

It wasn’t long before we were in the room next to the pool. His skin was cold, and little beads of water ran down our bodies. His fingers tangled in my wet hair, and I stepped closer, feeling his chest against mine as his fingers trailed down my spine. There wasn’t much space between us, so I could feel him, his hard cock pressing against my tummy. 

His eyelashes were long and a bit curled, and they fluttered for a couple of seconds as he closed his eyes, giving in to the feeling of my touch. I wondered how it felt for him, as my fingers wrapped around his cock and I squeezed it lightly.

“You’re hard,” I stated, with a mocking smile curling up my lips. He was, and he grunted deeply in acknowledgment. “What are we gonna do about that?”

“I told you, I have a couple of ideas,” Harry replied, his voice low and slow, laced with lust. “And I need you for all of them.”

Harry brushed his lips over my shoulder, pressing a soft kiss to it. My whole body was covered with goosebumps, and my smile faltered, as I became aware of his presence next to me. Everything was heightened, his fingertips running down my bare tummy while he pressed just another kiss on the curve of my neck. “You know what I want to do when we fuck?” He said. His words made me shiver, and I looked at him, drinking every word of his. 

“What?” I asked in a whisper, leaning closer to him as a fiery need grew in my tummy. I wanted to kiss him, a hungry kiss that would leave us both breathless. I wanted to bite him and lick him, just to taste him. Just that thought clouded my mind. 

Harry didn’t answer and he didn’t need to, cause his hand had found its way between my legs. I allowed him to, gasping at the coldness of his fingers against my warm skin. It felt so good. So deliciously good. 

“I always think about you sucking me off,” he said, and his finger slid down my slit, teasingly. “I love the way you look at me when you do it.” I couldn’t look away from him, at his pouty lips and the way his green eyes turned darker and darker. It was like it reflected my lust, and I could see the fire that was starting to consume my thoughts grow in his eyes. 

“Maybe I would even make you sit on my face while you suck me off, baby, would you like that?” Harry asked, pressing a soft kiss on my neck that contrasted with the deepness of his voice. It was so rich, like honey and chocolate, and it made me melt inside, slowly stripping away any doubts that held me back. 

“I would.”

I let go of my lip before it would bleed, and let my tongue soothe the sore spot. With his eyes still on me, Harry let one of his fingers slide down my entrance, seeing how wet I was starting to get for him. He dipped the tip of his finger and teased my entrance with slow circles. If I moved, if I rocked my hips at the rhythm he was dictating, he would thrust the tip of his finger in, and I felt a slight burn in my walls. 

“And then I’d lick that pretty pussy of yours, baby. Get you all wet for me.” I was wet, he could feel it. He slowly let more of his finger in, and he thrust it slowly, looking at me as I parted my lips to inhale sharply. My walls clenched around his finger and Harry smiled widely, adding the tip of a second finger to the pressure between my walls. 

“Fuck.”

“I would eat you out until you came on my tongue,” he continued as if he wasn’t doing enough already. “Would you like to cum for me, baby?”

his cock, large and throbbing, gliding between my folds, getting wet, and slick with my juices, hitting my clit with its dripping tip. I wanted to feel that pressure, my walls clenched just at the thought. 

“I want you to sit on my cock, I want to bite your neck and your tits and play with them while you ride me. You can decide how fast you want to go, baby, how deep you want me.” His voice was just as slow, a secret between the two of us. 

He had stopped moving his fingers in me, and focused instead on my clit, spreading my folds as his thumb drew circles on the little bud. My fingers were trembling, just as my tummy was, as I stroked his cock between them. I could feel him in all of his fucking glory. It was selfish of me, cause I wanted his attention on me, even when I knew he needed me. His throbbing cock told me as much.  

“I wanna taste you,” I whispered. “Can I? Please.”

Harry kissed me before he said anything else, his hot mouth demanding everything I had, he wanted it all for himself. So I kissed him back, cause that was all I wanted to do. Because even if I repeated to myself that I would get over him, deep in my soul, I knew that I would always want more. Just like him, I wanted it all. 

I went faster, pumping him in my hand and letting my fingers brush over his swollen tip every time. Harry grunted, and kissed me harder, sucking on my bottom lip until I moaned, loud enough for it to echo down my body. 

I wanted to get on my knees right there, but he had a different idea and guided us blindly to the bed, where he sat and I stood between his legs, being observed by him with a devilish smile. 

“Go on, then,” he said. 

I got on my knees, pressing my fingers to his bare thigh before I grabbed his cock in my hand, holding him while I licked a bold stripe from his base to his tip and let my tongue swirl around his tip before I sucked lightly on it. Harry whimpered, at the same time that my eyes met his. Just for him to see, I kissed his length with soft, slow, and wet kisses, my tongue licking on the skin sloppily.

A sharp breath got caught in his throat when I took him in my mouth and pressed my tongue to the shaft of his cock, bobbing my head down as I tried to take as much as I could of him. Harry was thick, even I could tell that, and he felt deliciously heavy on my tongue, his sweet taste almost exhilarating. 

“Fuck, baby, get on the bed.”

I almost refused, cause it all felt so fucking good, but I obeyed, popping him out of my mouth long enough for me to climb on the bed and kneel beside him. Harry didn’t waste any time. His lips attached to my nipple, sucking on it while his hand gripped to the back of my thigh, sliding up until he could brush his fingertips over my soaked slit. Harry licked the other nipple, at the same time his fingers slid between my folds and he thrust two of them in, while his thumb pressed to my clit. 

He was distracting me, to say the least, and heat pooled in my lower tummy, pulsing quickly as Harry pumped his fingers inside me and massaged my throbbing clit. My hand went to the back of his head, and I tangled my fingers in his hair, while the other tried blindly to grab his cock. 

“Harry, please,” I begged. My breaths were shallow, and my stomach quivered quickly, feeling tight as the pressure between my legs grew to a pulsing fire. “I wanna suck you off, baby. I want you to cum in my mouth, yeah?”

I could feel him smile against my skin, and he let my nipple go, peering up to me to offer me a smirk. Go on, his eyes said, and I bent down and sucked lightly on the tip of his cock. It was swollen pink, and I could taste the salty drops that gathered there. I wrapped my fingers around his base, and I squeezed a little, before I started to pump his cock in my hand, as I sucked on his tip and let my tongue press flat to his shaft to bob down just slightly. 

If I looked up, I could see his bleary eyes and the way his mouth hung slightly open. Our eyes met and it was then that he started to work his fingers again on me, thrusting his fingers in my wet center slowly, while his thumb played lazily with my clit. 

I closed my eyes, cause my walls were clenching and my stomach quivered, deliciously, blissfully. You surrender control over your own body for just a couple of seconds, letting the other person tip you over the edge, as they please. 

“Fuck,” I whimpered. It was the only thing I managed to say, because Harry put his free hand on the back of my head, and pushed my face down lightly, so I would take more of him. 

“Fuck, baby…” Harry moaned in a strangled whisper. “Fuck, Sof…”

I didn’t know what I was doing, so I chose to be sloppy, to moan and show him just how much I was enjoying it. Harry’s hips bucked up and I gagged a little bit, digging my nails in the meaty part of his thighs as he rocked them and his fingers went faster and rougher on me. I could feel that edge coming, the bliss that started in the lower part of my stomach and pushed down to my legs, so everything felt tighter every time my walls clenched, and that took over my legs and ran down to my feet to make my toes curl. I was unable to talk, my body could barely keep focused enough for me to keep touching him, 

Harry’s stomach tensed, and the muscles of his legs flexed and he tipped his head back as his high hit him. I could feel his taste flooding my senses, and I kept sucking the tip of his cock and stroked him with a tight hold, helping him ride his pleasure for a little longer. His bliss came in waves, and he smiled as he pulled my hair back, the thrust of his fingers becoming just as lazy and slow as the rocking of his hips into my mouth. 

Harry dropped to the bed when he came down from his high. His hot skin was clammy and his breaths heaved on his chest, but he looked at peace and happy, and he barely opened his eyes when I straddled him and kissed his neck softly. I looked him in the eyes and felt the heat of his skin against mine. His fingertips were brushing my leg, making their way up to the round of my ass to settle there. I kissed him once more, on the lips this time, and shuffled away from him, ready to leave the room and pick up my clothes that were still bunched up in a pile next to the pool. 

“Love?” Harry said and I turned to look at him, still lying on the bed. “Come back to bed.”

****

Nashville was certainly a new city to add to my ever-growing list of cities I should come back to later and give myself a chance to know. But it was all a whirlwind, we went from the airport to the hotel, so Harry wouldn’t be seen. It was a surprise, after all. 

Harry had asked me to come with him to Nashville, or well, he had asked Diana, who had agreed for both of us. He had a few meetings there, and he was planning to join his friend Kacey Musgraves in closing her concert in the Bridgestone Arena. I had no idea what that was, and I was pretty sure I had never heard any of her songs before, but it felt like a big thing, but I found it very exciting. It was the first time I had an actual chance to see Harry do his own thing. 

But if I felt as if we had gone back to normal, I was sorely mistaken. 

I had gone back to my house after that night because it felt like the safest thing to do and because Sam had called me, to let me know that my mom had one of her migraines after she had seen someone had been lurking around the house. She was sure it was my dad. She was now in her room, he said, feeling indisposed. I didn’t tell Harry that, he didn’t need to know, I just rushed home after talking to Sam. 

Harry hadn’t asked me to stay or tried to contact me in any way. He hadn’t even taken my calls. I wondered if he was expecting me to make a grand gesture. Or maybe, he was bored the night of the party and had gotten his fun already. I wasn’t sure of which one was it, and so the fear was paralyzing. 

“You hungry?” Diana asked on our way to the hotel. We were all riding in the same car, Jeff, Harry, Diana and I, and Diana was sandwiched between the two of us. She was asking me, but I took my time to answer, wondering how long it had been since I had a full meal. The last one I could remember was having lunch with Harry on a Friday, the same day his Lights Up video came out. We ate burgers because I was about to start my diet, and I needed to say a proper goodbye to food.

I had barely eaten after that day. I had barely slept. It was hard to do any of those things when you’re empty inside. 

“No.”

Harry looked at me for what felt like the first time that day. Maybe he was now just remembering that I had told him I wasn’t hungry when he offered to make breakfast for the two of us, or that I hadn’t eaten anything while we were with his friends. 

I looked away from him and to the city that was in front of us. 

It was almost night already, and I knew I couldn’t go out to walk around because that would mean potentially ruining Harry’s surprise. Harry and I were supposed to share a room, but it didn’t seem like he was willing to share his bed with me, so I was mentally ready to sleep on the couch (he was the one that needed a good night rest after all), and watch The Crown all night long. If Harry came out, I could pretend to be asleep.

We couldn’t get fast enough to the hotel, I felt like I was suffocating in the car.

I was wearing a black hoodie, a bit large on me, with the letters TPWK embroidered in rainbow colors over the left side, a pair of leggings, and red converses. I had makeup on, a light beat consisting of tinted moisturizer, cream blush, cream highlighter, mascara, and sheer gloss over a pink nude lipstick, that Diana had insisted on putting on during the flight. My eyebrows were done, and I had even gone through the effort of putting an array of fake freckles on my face. This way, if someone saw me, I was officially wearing Harry’s merch, looking flawless and effortless, as if I was born looking like that. 

My hair, on the other hand, needed Jesus, so I had put it in a tight bun that was surely going to give me a headache. 

Harry and I got ahead, getting to the elevator as Diana and Jeff stayed behind, discussing our remaining outings before we ended things. By early January Harry would be a free man, free to get with whoever he wanted. 

That didn’t hurt, not at all. 

The ride in the elevator was silent. Harry leaned the weight of his body against the mirror wall, looking at his phone and biting his bottom lip as he did so. I twisted my fingers and waited impatiently for us to reach our floor. 

I was suffocating. 

On the tenth floor, the elevator opened its doors and two girls looked wide-eyed at us. They were frozen and their eyes jumped from Harry to me, and I was sure they wanted to pinch us, just to see if we were real. I stepped to Harry’s side and beckoned them to get in. My fingers brushed Harry’s hand and heat ran down my body. I peered up at him, but it didn’t seem like the same had happened to him. The girls snickered and kept throwing obvious glances at us, which felt a lot better than straight-up ogling. It had happened to me. It was never nice. 

We finally got to our floor and we flashed a smile to the girls before hopping out of it. The screams rang in the air as soon as the doors closed behind us, and I prayed that they wouldn’t jump in there, but honestly, they probably did. 

Harry opened the door to a large suite, with window walls that allowed us to see the city. The room had a large grey-blue couch, filled with blue and white pillows, a guest bathroom, and a small studio area, with a white desk and a hanging lamp over it. On top of it, there was a small library, with a few books about the city’s music and food. There was a door to the room, and I peeked into it when Harry opened it, and I got to see the king-sized bed and a blue velvet armchair. The door to the inner bathroom was opened and I could see that there was a large tub in it, as well as a ridiculously big shower. 

I put my things on the couch and sat on it looking out at the city as Harry went into the room. What should I watch on Netflix? Maybe I should just browse Amazon Prime, I was going to be one of their stars pretty soon. I picked one of the pillows on the couch and pursed my lips in disappointment when I realized it was a bit too stiff. I already knew I wasn’t going to sleep that night, but that didn’t mean that I didn’t want to be comfortable. I also needed at least one blanket. So I got up and went to the room, as Harry went into the bathroom. He had pulled some clothes out, a pair of jeans, black boxers, and a lace shirt, and placed them over the bed. I stared at them and my feet only agreed to move when I heard Harry’s footsteps coming into the room. I bolted to the head of the bed, picking one pillow and pressing it to my chest before I looked at him. 

“What are you doing?” He asked and I blushed in response. 

“I, uh, I need a pillow. Are you going out?”

“Yeah, I’m having dinner with Kace.”

“Oh…”

He wasn’t inviting me, why would he? Everything went so well just a few nights ago, what had happened? How had he got tired of me so fast?

“Why would you need a pillow?” Harry asked, being kind enough to ignore my bleary eyes. It wasn’t intentional, and I looked away, shuffling between the sheets as I pretended that I was looking for something else. 

“It’s cold in the living room,” I explained. 

“So?”

“I’m sleeping there. You have a big day tomorrow, and I have nightmares. Don’t wanna be a bother.”

Harry rolled his eyes but didn’t say anything. He picked up the clothes from the bed and walked to the bathroom, leaving me alone in the room. I rushed to get the blanket and got out. 

Now I wasn’t just suffocating, it hurt to breathe and tears spilled out of my eyes without my permission. I cleaned them off my face, and sat on the couch, turning the TV on as loud as I could so Harry wouldn’t hear me struggle to breathe. 

I don’t know what I was expecting or why I had agreed to come. I had my answer: He was bored and ready to get rid of me. 

Silly heart, don’t worry, it’ll get better. Someday. It had to. I could stop planning my big confession, there was no need for it. 

Harry smelled fresh and clean when he got out of the room, and his perfume lingered in the air. I barely lifted my eyes to look at him, pretending to be too focused on the movie I had on. I didn’t know which one it was, but it was noisy, and that checked all of the boxes I needed right then. 

“Don’t wait up,” Harry said on his way out, and I nodded. I was thankful for the numbness. “And Sof? You should eat something. Please.”

“I’m not hungry,” I said, looking up at him. He looked gorgeous. So fucking gorgeous. His hair was swept back, which didn’t mean much, cause as soon as it had the opportunity, it was going to fall over his forehead. There was a white shirt under the lace one, and I could see the wing of the sparrow. Harry nodded and pursed his lips, but said nothing, closing the door behind him as he left. 

I wasn’t hungry. 

I had confirmed I had lost him about a week ago, before the birthday party. I wasn’t stupid. Something had shifted between us. So, every day, after I got home, I told my mom I had already eaten, and got to my bedroom, staring at the wall while I hoped to sleep that night. Every time, I woke up in the middle of the night, after just a few hours, or even minutes of rest, with my mouth open and my heart racing, screaming internally, after I violently shifted in my bed. The nightmares were many, some of them about my past, and some about my future. In two weeks, I had only slept twice through the night, both when Harry was in my bed. 

Tonight wasn’t going to be any different, so there was no point in trying. 

****

@FionaB @harrystyles is the most charming man I’ve ever met! 

He just asked me to join him for a drink and if I was staying in a nearby hotel! 

@ThisisHanna For real? You’re so lucky!

@commonclown Wait, isn’t he dating @sofwelshdlr?

@FionaB @commonclown is he? He didn’t seem to remember, lol

@juliawhite @sofwelshdlr look at this!

@TracyB oh, please, girl, you’re lying 🤥 

@brokendoll pics or it didn’t happen.

@FionaB @brokendoll of course I didn’t take pics! I was too busy flirting with Harry Styles!! 🤣

****

Harry got back at 1:46 in the morning and I pretended to be asleep when he checked on me. He turned the tv off, and took my phone out of my hands to put it on the coffee table, and rearranged the blanket around me, to tuck me in better. I could feel the beer and the vodka in his breath. 

He went to his bedroom and closed the door. 

****

I slept from around 4:35 to 6:07 am, when I sat on the couch and stared at the city. I had taken my shirt off, and was in a sports bra and a pair of black shorts, with fuzzy socks that didn’t match anything. I had a cup of coffee in my hands, black with sugar, and I enjoyed the warmth of it against my fingers. It felt nice. 

“You do know coffee does not replace breakfast, right?” Harry asked, I turned to look at him, he was shirtless and wearing a pair of gray sweatpants, that hung a little too low on his hips. His hair was messy and his lips were pouty, still swollen from sleep. 

“I’ve been told.”

“We should eat waffles and fried chicken,” he offered with a smile, serving himself a cup of coffee that I had left for him. 

“I’m not…”

“Hungry, I know.” He said, too tired to have that conversation. I almost felt like apologizing. Harry sat on the couch, holding his cup of coffee as he looked at me. It wasn’t a lustful look or even a charming one. He was inspecting me. I looked awful, he shouldn’t do that. “Why are you up so early?”

“I wanted to talk to my mom before she started her shift at the hospital. She didn’t answer.”

“How is your family? Your mom, Cat, Sam?”

There was an edge in his voice as he mentioned Sam’s name, but I chose to let it go, shrugging my shoulders as I replied with a laconic “They’re fine.” I was too focused on the way he was looking at me, and I sat on the couch to stop him from staring at me any further. 

“Can I go to rehearsals with you?” I asked, redirecting the conversation to a better place. I was hoping to spend the day with him, maybe even watch him eat the damn waffles and fried chicken. 

“Yeah, I’d like that. And Kace wants to meet you, she wants to know if Chris Evans is a good kisser,” he said and I smiled brightly, like a child that had had her wish come true. So easy to please. 

My phone buzzed right next to Harry, and he looked down at it as I went to pick it up. He probably noticed Sam’s name flashing on the screen. I jumped up on my feet and avoided Harry’s eyes as I answered the call, turning to the window to continue looking at the city. 

“Hey, Sam,” I said. 

“Hi, sorry to call you so early,” I heard him say. There was a nervous hint on his voice, too bright and smiley, even miles away. It made me nervous, heightened my senses as I waited for the blow. “Did I wake you up?”

“No.”

“The nightmares?”

“I didn’t let them come.”

“Oh, yes, that is a very sensible solution, not sleeping at all.” 

“Sam…”

“I’m sorry,” he smiled. I could see him, blushing and looking down at the floor as he realized he was rambling. He always did so when he didn’t want to deliver bad news. “It’s just that...well, remember that man I told you about? The one that was lurking around your house?”

Fuck. 

“Yes, I do.” My heart had already stopped, knowing what was to come. 

“Well, it was your dad. He came last night, your mom opened the door.”

“Oh.” Fuck, fuck, fuck!

“Cat told me she paralyzed, Sof, I’m sorry. He told them that he was going to ask for Cat’s full custody. Your mom has been in her room ever since, and Cat asked me to come and spend the night, just in case.”

He couldn’t. He wouldn’t.

“Ok,” I said in a calm voice, even though I was fully panicking inside. “So, what do you think?”

“That you need to move.”

“Ok, so we’ll look for a house when I get back. We can move as soon as we find one,” I told Sam. I was already running scenarios in my mind, picturing a fully armed guard posted by my door 24/7. Too harsh? Maybe. Unnecessary? I wasn’t sure. Electric wiring came to mind as well. 

“Yes, that sounds like a great plan. And I’m really sorry, Sof.”

“Thank you, Sam, for everything,” I whispered. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

I hung up and sighed, inhaling deeply and closing my eyes for a second before I turned around. My family was safe, I was safe. Everything was ok.

I turned to look at Harry, who had gotten up from the couch and gone to stand by the little “kitchen” counter. One couldn’t cook in there, but there were a coffee machine and cups and little plates, and Harry’s cup was already on it. He was looking at me, with such visceral eyes that I shuddered. 

“I was thinking…” he said. “Maybe it’s not a good idea for you to come to rehearsal.”

“Oh,” was all I could say. I didn’t have enough energy to even ask why. The air was too heavy and I could suddenly feel it weighing down my shoulders. I didn’t feel like being alone all morning. I needed Harry more than I had ever needed him before. “It’s ok. Can I still go to the concert? I was looking forward to seeing you perform.”

“Whatever you want,” Harry shrugged in response.

****

The venue was packed. I don’t know why that surprised me. 

The room was vibrating with excitement, and joyful chatter and I bobbed my head to the sound of the music. Kacey was already on stage, and I could see her in a little monitor, looking gorgeous with her pink outfit. It was pretty much like a movie set, people running around and shouting while she performed as if everything was perfect. 

Harry was getting ready, but he had barely acknowledged my presence since I got there, so it wasn’t like he was going to talk to me anyway. 

Once Harry walked to the stage, I was supposed to sit in a VIP booth, secluded from the crowd, but visible enough so people would notice me. 

I had considered the possibility of not coming. I had spent most of the day by myself, walking around the vicinity of the hotel, so I wouldn’t drive myself crazy. So I wouldn’t have to think about Harry, or my dad, or my mom, or the way that everything in my life seemed to be imploding. 

I walked until my feet hurt and I knew that I was gonna be in pain the next day. The hours that I still had before the concert I burned playing with makeup I had bought and listening to heartbreak songs. 

But even if I decided not to go, Diana would have never allowed me to. She knocked on my door when it was time and waited impatiently by my side as I finished putting my makeup on. I was taking my time, my lips were red and my eyes smoked out pink, cause tonight I didn’t feel like being discreet. I had put on a pair of black jeans, and a leather jacket, and a soft pink top, and my hair was in a loose braid that would not survive to the end of the night.

So, there I was, staring at Kacey Musgraves on a tiny monitor, while Harry ignored me. 

“Harry, you’re up in 5!” Someone yelled and my heart raced at the idea of finally seeing him. I turned, smiling brightly despite myself, and walked to him to wish him luck.

He looked stunning. His black pants reached his waist and the open chest of his shirt accentuated his tan skin. I stopped, waiting for the crowd around him to dissipate, but that didn’t happen, because they dragged him out to the stage before I even got close. 

Harry looked back, right before stepping out of the doors, and I smiled when our eyes met. Then, he was gone. 

If the crowd was expecting Harry, they hid it well. The arena roared as soon as the lights went out and Harry came into the stage mid-song. The energy electrified the air and I got goosebumps, looking at him singing along with his Kacey. The crowd sang along with them, and I wished I knew the lyrics, smiling widely when he sang and waved at the crowd, and even laughed at his Yeeehaw scream. It lasted less than 5 minutes, but I was probably going to remember that night for the rest of my life. 

It was the night when I finally accepted that I lost him, and the night where I had seen him shine as bright as only he could. 

“Can I stay here?” I asked Diana, as I saw her getting ready to go backstage. “I want to see the rest of the concert.” 

She narrowed her eyes and looked at me, licking her pink lips as she leaned closer so no one would hear her. 

“Why? You don’t even like country music.”

She was right. I also didn’t like feeling small. 

“Please.”

Diana nodded and got back to her spot, begrudgingly staying to enjoy the show. There was whiskey in her breath, which they kept offering us backstage, calling it Tennessee Whiskey with a wink on their faces. I had no idea what it meant. I had a couple of drinks anyway. 

I didn’t leave until Kacey did, and I stayed behind while everyone in the room clapped for her. Harry was already wearing a white cotton shirt and he smiled sweetly at his friend and hugged her tightly, whispering words to her ear. 

“Oh! So she’s the famous Sof!!” She exclaimed when I approached and she opened up her arms to me, smiling as she waited for my hug. “Jesus, the camera doesn’t make you justice.” She rubbed my back and pulled me close, and I hugged her back. 

“It was a lovely concert,” I smiled when she let me go. “Thanks for having me.”

“It’s alright, Sugar, I couldn’t wait to meet you.” she looked at her friend and smiled mischievously. “Harry’s smitten.”

“Good,” I said, looking at Harry as I did. A small smile curled at the corner of his lips, gone so fast that I could have easily missed it if I blinked. “So am I.”

“Disgustingly cute. Are you coming to the party, babe?” She asked, already looking somewhere else, she was being called. 

“I…”

“Sof’s tired, Kace, she can’t come,” Harry interrupted me and I looked at him with eyes wide with surprise. I was not, I was full of energy and I was hoping I would get to spend some time with Harry, even if it was just looking at him from afar. It took me a second to recover, to understand what was going on, and I smiled at Harry and Kacey, just as another piece of my heart broke. 

“Oh, are you sure?” Kacey pouted. 

“Yes, I uh, I spent the night reading new projects.”

“Oh, well, that’s the life of an artist for ya. You don’t mind if Harry comes for a little while, do ya?”

“Oh, no, please, have fun! I’ll just, I’m heading back to the hotel.”

“Next time you’re in Nashville, you and I will party until the sun rises the next day, promise?”

“Absolutely, as a matter of fact, we should schedule it right now!”

Kacey laughed and waved us away before she walked and made her way to a different group of friends. 

“Can I say something before I leave?” I asked Harry, who was actively avoiding my eyes. I wondered how we must look, standing awkwardly by each other’s side while no one looked the other in the eyes. “I think you were fantastic. I liked the duet.”

“You did?”

“Yes! I hope I get to see you at a concert someday when this is all over. I’ll probably skip next tour, tho.”

“Why?”

“‘Cause, it will take me a while to get over you. But don’t worry, I’ll be ok.” A smile broke on my face, cause I knew I wasn’t lying. It might take me some time to lick my wounds, but I was gonna make it. I always did. And someday, I was gonna try again. 

****

I texted Diana to let her know that I had gotten my own room and that I was going home on the first flight in the morning. I had already bought the tickets. I didn’t know if she was going to read it, because she was already dizzy and drunk when I left for the hotel, but I felt better letting her know. I also significantly decreased my chances of being murdered that night. 

There was one perk of being famous: you could get things you usually wouldn’t. Like a fried chicken sandwich, with cheese and bacon, fries, and a chocolate milkshake with a cherry on top, when the kitchen was already closed. Even if you’re not going to eat it. 

My new room was on a lower floor, so I didn’t have the same view Harry did, but I was still sitting by the window, with the TV as background, as I read a thriller book on my iPad. It was called The Last Mrs. Parrish, and maybe it was not the ideal book for my already sour mood, but I was in a rush to finish it, cause I had a hunch it would be a perfect drama series for me to become a producer. It was an idea that had started to run my mind in one of my sleepless nights, feverish, and fuzzy. This night was just as good as any to start shaping my idea up. I was supposed to spend 2 more days in Nashville, as Harry had a few meetings, and he wanted to see if he could visit some friends, so I was wondering if I should just stay, and finish the book there. But I had already booked my flight, 7 am the next day, and my poor heart was not up for anymore hurting. 

There was a knock on the door and I was tempted to ignore it. I continued reading for a few more seconds, hoping that they went away. I was pretty damn comfortable and cozy under my blanket, and if I moved just an inch, I would never get back to being as comfy. There was a second knock, and I grunted, scrambling to get up and walk to the door to open it up. 

It shouldn’t have surprised me when I saw Harry, leaning into the door frame with one hand, while the other was resting over his hips. He had just showered, his hair was still wet, and he was wearing a simple white shirt with grey sweatpants as if he had gotten ready to sleep when he remembered I was supposed to be sharing the room with him. I was about to close the door on him when I noticed two girls staring at us, trying to hide behind a large plant in a far corner. So I stepped to the side and allowed him in without saying a word. 

“Diana told me you had asked for your room,” he said. 

“I did,” I nodded. Harry followed as I made my way back to the window, and sat down on the floor, right next to me. I pulled the blanket over my legs and picked the iPad to prop it on my lap, as Harry picked one of the cold fries and bit into it. He made a sour face, before he put half of it back, and leaned over the plate to inspect the food. My heart raced as he picked up the orange bottle with the white cap, filled with white little pills. He looked at the label and then, turned to me with a deep frown etched between his eyebrows. 

“Did you order this and didn’t eat it?” He asked, which was the safest question I could get. 

“I ordered and then realized I didn’t want it.”

“Have you eaten something today?” Harry pressed. 

“I ate something,” I shrugged. “And don’t worry, you don’t have to pretend you care anymore.”

“What are you talking about, Sof??”

“I’ve realized that I’ve been selfish,” I started, licking my lips as I tried to organize my thoughts and remember the words that I had practiced and repeated a billion times since I left the concert venue. “And that I should’ve let you end things that night at my place. So, I’m doing that, you’re released. And now, you don’t have to pretend you worry if I don’t eat.”

“Or if you take sleeping pills.”

“I bought that on my way to the hotel and then decided against it,” I explained despite myself. “But, no, you don’t have to worry about that either.” 

Harry looked at me for what it felt like an eternity. There was a pang of sadness in his green eyes, and I had to restrain myself to not kiss his cheek and tell him that it’d be alright. He looked like a lost kid.  

“I have a request,” I said, following the script I had set for myself. If Harry just followed it, it would be amazing.  

“What?” He said, and I smiled at his unintentional good behavior. 

“Can you wait for a little bit before you officially get back with your ex? I mean, publicly. I know it’s not fair, but I…I don’t think I can handle that.”

“Would you do the same?” Harry asked and I almost laughed.  

“I’m not worth all the trouble I am, and I’m not getting in a PR relationship again, so…” I shrugged. Harry was too serious, looking at me with concern and sadness and I couldn’t bear it. “You don’t have to worry about me.”

“Don’t say you’re not worth the trouble.”

“Jesus, I’m not,” I rolled my eyes, as Harry got closer and his fingers brushed over mine before he pulled them away. Maybe he remembered that we weren’t supposed to be doing anything like that. “Can I tell you a story?” I asked, and I put the iPad down to turn to him. This was not a part of my plan, but I wanted to tell him this, let him know what he meant to me before he went away. 

“Please, so I don’t have to go to my room so soon.”

“Ok, so when I was little, my aunt Laura, she was my mom’s little sister and my favorite person in the entire world, she usually told me “don’t just settle for any man, love should be special” and stuff like that,” I was smiling at the memory, and I could see the little dimples on Harry’s cheeks as he looked at me. “She never got married and she couldn’t stand my dad, so she wasn’t allowed at my house. But she went anyway, it was our little secret. One day, my dad got home earlier and he found her there, so she took me to my room and went back down to talk to my mom and dad. Before she left, she told me to go to my special place.” There was so much I didn’t notice back then. So much I could’ve done. I could’ve screamed. I could’ve told. 

“You had a special place?”

“It was my closet. My mom put pillows and a lantern in there, so I could read. I was supposed to be safe there,” I explained, rolling my lips into my teeth and inhaling deeply before I let out a big sigh. “So, that night, I hid in my special place, and I brought with me a pen and a pink notebook, ‘cause if love was supposed to be so special, well, I needed to fall in love with someone special, right?”

“Sure,” Harry smiled, nodding solemnly. 

“So I started to draft my list of things a boy should be before I allowed myself to fall in love with him. I was obsessed with the movie Practical Magic, so of course, my special boy had to have a green and a blue eye, and stupid stuff like that. You think I’m crazy yet?”

“Not because of this, no,” Harry grinned and I rolled my eyes, laughing when I pushed him lightly. But he took my hand and pressed it to his chest, and I could feel his heartbeat under my fingertips. “Keep going,” Harry said. 

“So, uhm…” Lost, I was lost. “So, I met Sam, and I knew as soon as I did that he was always going to see me as his little sister. So I added him to my ‘special boy’ list. So he had to be kind and always be there for me, and like soccer, but be really bad at it. And Cat had to like him, cause she followed Sam around as if he was made out of light and she was his little moth. And he had to...he had to protect me, he had to be willing to leave town on a rainy night, with my crying little sister on his backseat,” I shook my head as if that would chase the memories away, but no, nothing could ever do that. “So we moved to LA, and I met all of these guys and I was never even interested, ‘cause Sam was the one for me.” Harry squeezed my fingers softly and I looked at him, suddenly aware of how close he was, and how familiar his body felt next to mine. I had never told anyone any of this, and I wasn’t sure why I was telling him, but I kept going because I didn’t want him to go to his room. 

“And then I met you, and that day in D’s office, my heart went ‘oh, fuck’,” I laughed. “And I was sure you were never going to say yes, but you did. And then you kissed, and I knew I was fucked, even when we were surrounded by cameras. When I heard about your ex, I knew you were never going to love me back, you were never going to be mine, but I still kept adding things to my list: the boy has to make me go to bed with a smile, and hold me tight when I have nightmares. And the butterflies, man I really love those fucking butterflies... And he has to be a little bit smug and cocky, just because he knows who he is and what he has to offer, and he has to make me just a little bit dizzy when he looks at me.” I found myself smiling at nothing, and I slowly came back to reality, looking at Harry and clearing my throat as I did so. “So, yes, I’ll just have to wait a little longer and I’m sure I’ll just keep adding things to that list...but, someday…”

Harry kissed me before I could even realize what was going on. I gasped sharply into the kiss and scrunched my eyes closed as I shifted to him, getting to my knees to straddle him, and push him back against the couch. Harry smiled at my sudden enthusiasm, and he let his hands fall to my hips and his fingertips dig on the meaty curves of my ass when I sat on his lap. I took the opportunity to push my fingers into the wet ends of his hair, and tilt my head so we could deepen the kiss, and his tongue swept across my bottom lip before he did as I wished. 

“You were fantastic in the show,” I whispered as we broke the kiss apart, and I pressed my forehead to his. Harry chuckled and the warm puffs of his breath made my skin fill with little goosebumps. 

“I couldn’t stop looking at you, Sof.”

“Then why didn’t you let me come to the party?”

“‘Cuz I was scared, and really fucking angry at you, at myself.”

I kissed him, softly and slowly, little kisses pressed to his lips as he smiled so much that he forgot to kiss me back for a moment. But when he did, he kissed me hard, parting my lips to play with my tongue. His hands spread over my ass, pushing me closer to his bulge. I hummed at the feeling and kissed him with just as much urgency. My body came alive with his touch, a fire that traveled from the tip of my head to my toes. Everything felt heightened, the way he brushed his fingertips under my shirt, and the little kisses he trailed over my jawline and down to my neck. I could feel the bit of stubble on his face and the curling pressure of his fingers as he tried to close the little space between us. 

“Get up,” Harry whispered against my lips. 

“Are you leaving?”

“No, baby,” Harry replied, a soft chuckle escaping his lips. “I just want us to go to the room, is that ok with you?”

I nodded, ‘cause there was nothing better I could imagine, even if I tried, even if my mind weren’t all fogged up and fiery. 

Although, the couch would’ve worked too. 

Harry didn’t let me think. He helped me up on my feet and took my hand in his to guide me to the room. The butterflies fluttered tightly in my tummy and my heart seemed ready to send out the fireworks. 

“We can just kiss,” Harry smiled and I had to wonder if he could feel my heartbeat in my fingertips. 

“Yes, I’d like that.”

The corner of his lips got trapped between his lips and he looked at me. Sadness was long gone and now something like happiness danced in his green eyes, which made the butterflies stop for a second and go Eeeep. I felt like I had forgotten what it was like to look at him and wait for his touch and it was all coming back in crashing waves. 

When we kissed, I let him know how much I missed him and needed him, how afraid I was to lose him. I let him guide us, soft and slow at the start, as we both tried to memorize the taste of our kiss. Harry licked my lips and let himself get lost in me, with his arm looped around my waist while the other was pressed to the back of my neck. His kiss was maddening, making me feel like I was the only thing he could think of at that very moment. My whole body itched to have him. 

Harry seemed to get it, cause he allowed his fingers to travel under my shirt, pushing the fabric up until we had to break the kiss so he could take it off. I was braless already, and I held my breath as Harry stared at me as if it was the very first time he saw me like this. My fingers trembled as I hooked them around the waistband of my jammies, but I stopped as Harry shook his head and smiled. 

“Lemme see you, baby. Turn around and push them down.”

“You’ve been watching a lot of porn, haven’t you?”

“I’ve been thinking about this a lot,” he admitted shamelessly. “So, let me sit, so I can see you, yeah?”

I watched him sit on the bed and his hand go to his crotch, as he palmed himself over the gray fabric of his sweatpants. The sight made a rush of adrenaline run down from my lower to my legs and a pulsing pressure settled between my thighs. I did as he asked me to, and turned around to allow him to see as I slowly bent down and pushed my jammies down my hips and my legs until I reached my ankles. 

“Fuck,” I gasped at the cold feeling of Harry’s tongue on my center. He was sloppy as he trapped my clit between his lips and his fingers dug on my asscheeks to spread me apart. “Fuck.”

A blissful wave rolled down my tummy, and I shifted on my feet just slightly, to allow Harry to let his tongue run down my slit and lap around my center. The tip of his tongue slid between my folds, barely pushing in before he went back to play with my clit, sucking and lapping on it as if I was a fucking delicious ice cream and he was decided to devour me. I could feel his warm breath, fanning over my slick pussy and making me shiver and laugh breathlessly, the unexpected touch already pushing me to a delicious edge. 

I didn’t know what to do, where to put my hands or if I could rock my hips as I wanted to, so I dug my nails on the palm of my hand, and my breath heaved as Harry continued to work to drive me crazy.

“C’mere, baby,” Harry commanded as he stopped, and I almost wanted to tell him to get back on his knees and finish me off, but I turned to look at him, just like he had said, and saw his glistening lips as he smiled at me. If I let my eyes travel down I could see his hard cock in all of its glory, and his fingers pressing up to it to tease himself.

“Can I suck you off?” I asked, but Harry shook his head no, and sat down on the bed, on the same spot I had left him just a couple of minutes ago. I went to him, taking short and slow steps so he could see my every move, and stood between his legs as I helped him take his shirt off. My hands pressed to his shoulders and I pushed him down to the bed, straddling him so he couldn’t even think about going anywhere. 

I wanted to trace every tattoo on his body with my lips. I started on his collarbones, trailing tiny little kisses and licking his soft skin, I made my way down his body. I kissed the sparrows and the butterfly and I hummed as I reached the ferns, my fingers curling up the waistband of his sweatpants to push it off. 

Harry propped himself up on his elbows and looked at me as I took the remaining of his clothes off. I was clumsy and laughed shyly, but he didn’t seem to mind, his eyes followed my every move, even when my hand wrapped around his cock, and I climbed on the bed to start sucking him off. I just wanted his taste in my mouth, to hear the little gasp of pleasure he let out when I dropped a ball of spit on his cock, and spread it over with quick, tight movements. I just wanted to see his tummy quiver when my tongue ran over his swollen tip and licked the salty beads of precum that spilled on it and as I sucked it sloppily, just like he liked him. 

Harry laughed, but it was delirious, blissful. His head tipped back and he grunted out a moan that echoed down my body and rose little goosebumps on my skin. It was all I wanted, to make him feel good. 

“Sof,” he breathed. “Come sit on my face.”

I popped his cock out of my mouth and looked at him, smiling mischievously as I lapped my tongue over his tip one last time. There was lust in his eyes, full and pure, the usual bright green had disappeared, and they were as dark as they could be. 

“You like ordering me around, don’t you?” I asked him, but I was already making my way to him because just the thought of his tongue on me made my stomach tighten. 

“And you’re usually such a good girl, baby. Come and spit on your hand so you can play with my cock.”

I straddled Harry’s face, and sat back down carefully, shivering when I felt Harry’s tongue flick over my clit. I was still pretty sensitive from before, so it was pretty damn easy for him to get a moan out of me. His hands were on each of my thighs, pulling me closer to his face as he licked and sucked and played with my swollen clit. I was drenched, so fucking wet it was ridiculous, and Harry smiled when I tangled my fingers in his hair, so I had something to hold on to as I rolled my hips. 

It took me a moment to remember that I was supposed to play with his cock. I leaned my body back and grabbed him with trembling fingers as Harry held me by my thighs. Harry grunted as I did, and bucked his hips up as I started to pump him. This new position made him go deeper and faster, and his tongue slid down my slit until it reached my center and thrust it in once and again. 

Each of Harry’s moans added to the fire that had settled in my tummy, and it was becoming harder to keep up, to sit straight and not give up to the pleasure that was pushing down to take over my body. He didn’t seem to notice, though. His tongue swirled around my needy clit and I felt like my whole body was burning. 

“You’re fucking dripping,” Harry whispered, placing a kiss on my thigh to let me take a break.

“Please, don’t stop, please…

My walls were clenching around his tongue as soon as he started again, and I pulled his hair between my fingers, my only anchor to reality at that very moment. It wasn’t enough, cause soon I was grinding my hips on his face, losing control over myself as the world around me became blurry. He trapped my clit between his lips and sucked on it lightly, sending me over the edge of bliss as his name escaped my lips like a prayer. 

I was exhausted and shaky when I fell on the bed, and my peripheral vision had become fuzzy. When Harry’s weight pressed down to my body, I laughed, shifting down to feel him better against myself. 

“You’re ok?” He asked me but I didn’t answer. I kissed him instead, hungrily and needy, with my tongue lapping around his mouth and tasting myself on it. I licked his lips and sucked on the tip of his tongue and moaned when he sank his teeth on my bottom lip and pulled on it. 

My walls were still clenched and my stomach quivered as my high kept rolling in. 

“I’ve never been better,” I smiled as I laid back down, which Harry took as an opportunity to kiss down my jaw and trail his kisses down my neck and my collarbones. He reached my chest and his tongue felt cold against my clammy skin and I shivered when he licked my nipple and sucked and nibbled it lightly. 

But as I calmed down, I realized it wasn’t enough. I wanted it all, I was craving it. My legs hooked around his hips and I pulled him closer to me. I could feel his cock dragging up and down my slit, gliding between my folds as we both started to grind our hips. I was so wet that it was easy to coat him with my juices, and when he twitched, his little grunt echoed in the air. 

“Fuck me,” I begged, just as I had done before, but this time, I was gonna get my wish. 

“Ask nicely,” He grinned, and suddenly, his hips came to a stop, and I moaned, more in despair and need than anything else.

“Please, fuck me,”

It was delirious. Fucking delicious. His swollen tip burned lightly as he aligned himself to my entrance and he let it slide in, just barely, enough to open me up and make me bunch the fabric of the sheets between my fingers. His cock felt bigger and thicker than his fingers or his fingers or his tongue, and I clenched my walls around it, reacting to the foreign feeling, and trapping him there. 

“Fuck, Sof,” He moaned. My senses were heightened and I couldn’t tear my eyes away from him, even if I wanted to. I watched him as he let a ball of spit fall down to my pussy and gasped at the feeling of his fingers rubbing it on my clit. 

“God…” I gasped. As I adjusted to him, Harry thrust a little harder, until he was all in and my walls stretched around his cock to mold to it. 

We kissed again, this time a little more feverishly, and my hands pressed to his back, feeling his muscles work as he rocked his hips. I was aware of every inch of his cock as he thrust it slowly, and I didn’t know what to do with myself, hiding my face onto the crook of his neck and pressing sloppy kisses to his skin as he fucked me. 

“You feel so fucking good, Sof,” Harry whispered to my ear and the butterflies fluttered freely and wildly in my stomach. I forgot about everything that wasn’t him. My moans were strangled and shy, and my walls clenched around his cock with every new thrust. Harry went faster and deeper and I could feel him in my stomach if that was even possible. His eyes were closed, and the cold metal of his cross dragged up my skin with every new roll of his hips. 

“Kiss me, would ya?” I said, and that was enough to make him kiss me, sloppily and deeply, with every moan of his dying on my lips. My fingers tangled in his hair and I pulled on it, just to get a reaction out of him. His breath heaved and his hands went to my hips, to push me down and closer as went just a little rougher. 

It was too much, the weight of his body on top of mine, his kisses, the way his cock pushed between my walls, the fire that spread down all over my body. I felt blissful, aware of every inch of my body for the first time ever. I could get addicted to it. 

He was closer than he would like to admit, I could feel it in the way he scrunched his eyes closed and how he struggled to breathe. It was a shame that I wasn’t too sure of what to do to push him over the edge, but I tightened the grip of my legs around his hips and clenched my walls with every new thrust. He seemed to like it, cause he pinned me down to the bed, and groaned between his rough thrust, just as the muscles of his tummy and legs stiffened and he let out a warm laugh, that mixed with the quivers that rolled on his stomach.

“Fuck,” I heard him say, but I was too focused on the warmth that was filling me up, the juices that were dripping down his twitching cock as I tightened my walls around him. I laughed too, kissing him fully and deeply, as I brushed my fingertips down his spine. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he whispered against my lips, making me feel giddy all over. 

“You should’ve told me what I was missing,” I laughed. 

“Wanna go again? Maybe a couple more times?”

“How many?”

“Like 5?”

“I don’t think I can handle that, baby. We need to build up to it.”

“It’s alright, we have time.”

[fandom-blackhole]

Hayloft- Ezra x Reader P.6 Final

AN: Well here we are guys.... I really want to thank everyone who has given this story a chance. I know I'm not a the best writer but it really is one of my passions and with all of the support I've gotten for Hayloft especially, I am hoping to continue writing and maybe even complete my childhood dream of being a published author (though that will be way in the future)! If you enjoyed this, you should go show some love to my sister, @space-nerd2005​​, because without her this story either wouldn’t have been even written/published or would have only been a one-shot! For now I just want everyone to know that I'm really happy that you're all here and you've supported me! 💕💕💕 (Also Happy Valentines Day!)

Masterlist

Words: 3.8k!

Warnings: sex mentioned but not really described, the father talks again so berating and abusive language, fighting, running bc that needs a warning

Sneaking back into the house after that first night in the barn was difficult. Neither Ezra nor I wanted to separate, and we had stalled until it had almost been too late. But, in the end, we didn’t get caught again. Our nighttime visits resumed again after that night, though now I was sneaking out to see him almost every night, not able to stand being away from him any longer. Gone also were the nights of being apart from each other in any way. While not every night was filled with passionate touches and pleasure, each night was spent holding each other and trying to soothe the aches of being apart all day. 

Sleep soon became the least of my priorities and it showed during the day. I was constantly tired and it made the days seem to drag on. Nights on the other hand always seemed to pass too quickly as I tried in vain to grasp and hold onto the stolen moments that Ezra and I were able to share. I noticed that Ezra was also being affected by the lack of sleep, when I worked with them in the field I noticed him yawning in the middle of sentences, but when I would bring it up at night when we were alone he would always look scared and pull me closer saying he was fine and then ask me not to leave. 

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Shortly after the nightly visits to the barn started, and about a month away from when Ezra’s ship would arrive to take him away, as I climbed my way into the hayloft and faced Ezra, I was met with a sight I hadn’t seen in what felt like forever. Ezra was sitting against the far wall of the loft with the lantern on, his shirt off, and my Edgar Allan Poe book held in his hand. I had not thought of my books until that moment, my mind too distracted with other thoughts to think to wonder where they had disappeared to after the confrontation that had happened in that small spare bedroom. 

Walking over to Ezra now though, I could see that he had all of them, except for the one he was holding, tucked away into his small bag, keeping them safe. Looking up at what I assume to be the sound of my footsteps, Ezra smiled and motioned for me to sit down next to him, and once I had settled, with my head on his shoulder, I spoke softly. “I feel somewhat ashamed. I had not even realized that my books were missing until just a few seconds ago when I saw you with Poe.”

Turning and pressing a kiss to my forehead Ezra answered just as softly, “No need to be ashamed, my delicate and beautiful flower. Your mind has been preoccupied with things that have taken you far from worrying about our shared writing friends. Not to worry though, I have kept them safe and away from anything that could harm their precious pages. I believe that when your brother was gathering my things to bring out here to me he saw the books and assumed they were mine. I didn’t say anything, and selfishly kept them, when I should have returned them to you, but those lonely nights without you were hard on my old soul and these books that held a small portion of you brought me solace. Especially, our dear friend Poe who brought us together. Whenever I missed you most I would find my aching fingers turning to the poem I recited for you that first day and I would read it over and over until I fell into my fitful and aching slumber.”

Looking at the book now, I noticed that he was once again staring at the page that held the poem. It was obvious that this page had been visited more often than naught, as the page showed signs of wear and a few crinkles where the page most likely creased when he fell asleep with it in his hand. Lifting my head to look at Ezra, and already finding him watching me with what I hoped to be love in his eyes, I gave him a smile and bit my lip before opening my mouth and reciting the poem back to him.

“In visions of the dark night

I have dreamed of joy departed;

But a waking dream of life and light

Hath left me broken-hearted.

Ah! what is not a dream by day

To him whose eyes are cast

On things around him, with a ray

Turned back upon the past?

That holy dream, that holy dream,

While all the world was chiding,

Hath cheered me as a lovely beam

A lonely spirit guiding.

What though that light, thro’ storm and night,

So trembled from afar―

What could there be more purely bright

In Truth’s day-star?”

As I watched his face while speaking the same lines he had spoken to me what feels like decades ago at this point, though only a few short months ago, his face morphed into a loving smile. I watched as the soft smile he had turned wider, and the crinkles next to his eyes deepened, and his dimple peeked out beneath his facial hair deepened. After I finished, I blushed and turned away from his gaze.

“I, um...I read that poem almost nightly after we first walked back here to the farm together. I couldn’t bring myself to read past that poem either, it was always just that one, and I always only heard your voice echoing it in my head as my eyes read along the lines. That was all before we started meeting at night….”

After my admission, Ezra had set the book aside, carefully placing it with the others. Then he carefully picked up my hand kissed my palm before sliding my hand to rest on his cheek as he pulled me into his lap. As soon as I was close enough he started kissing me, starting with small soft pecks on the corners of my mouth before moving on to full kissing my lips. He slowly worked the kisses from soft to passionate. 

That night we sat against the wall and as Ezra held me and made love to me, he continuously whispered and recited our poem. For once he didn’t drawl on about this or that, only softly and huskily reciting those words over and over into my ear in between kisses and nips and moans of my name.

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The days were counting down too quickly for my taste. I was scared, in all honesty. I felt as if I had finally gotten Ezra, but I still hadn’t fully gotten him in the way that I longed for. I wanted to be able to spend every waking moment with him. I wanted to be able to feel his touch whenever without worrying about my father. I want to be able to walk up and kiss him. I want to be able to make love with him in a bed for once. I want so much, still, and time is running out. Even as I sit close to Ezra and listen to him speak about just whatever is going through his mind, I can’t help but worry about what is going to happen in only a few week’s time. Will I have to watch as the man I have come to love walks away from me forever? Will he decide to stay with me and settle down on K-5? Or will he take me with him and into that big ship that comes for him, taking me with him on every adventure following?

“...lower? Darling? Are you back with me yet,” coming back to the present I am met with Ezra’s soft smile and teasing eyes, as he rubs the palm of my hand with his thumb. “What has taken you away from me, flower? For your eyes seemed to be a million miles away from here, and I must say I am slightly worried that you may have finally grown tired of my endless drawl. Tell me, please?”

Shaking my head with a small laugh, I returned his smile. “I’m sorry, Ez. I can assure you that I am far from tired of listening to you talk. I always look forward to getting to listen to you…”

“Then what is stealing your attention from me, flower? I can tell that something is bothering you, and it has me slightly worried. You can talk to me about anything, I promise you no harsh judgments, I could never think or speak anything unsavory when it comes to you, my lovely flower.”

As he speaks, Ezra reaches over to me and pulls my bottom lip free from my teeth as he has done so many times before. We sit in silence for a few moments, before I take a deep breath and quietly whisper, “What is going to happen in the next few weeks? After the harvest is done, and the ship comes for you?”

Watching Ezra’s eyes as I spoke, I saw them get a sad hue to them. I watched as Ezra swallowed and he said in a solemn tone, “I cannot stay flower. I must leave with that ship….but I don’t have to leave alone. Flower, you could come with me, I would more than love to take care of you out there, and show you the universe that you have only seen through stories...That is of course if that is what you want. I will not push you into leaving your family, or your planet, but know that leaving without you by my side will break me. I know that what we have hasn’t lasted long but I know for certain that this is special. I know without a shadow of doubt that I have fallen completely for you. And, if I were to leave you behind, I would end up leaving my heart and soul along with you. I love you, flower…”

Crying, I move my hands to hold Ezra’s face and I press my forehead to his own. For a few seconds, we sit like this and as I run my thumbs across his cheeks, Ezra wraps his arm around my waist.

“You honestly think that I’m going to stay on this Kevva forsaken planet when the man that holds my heart and soul is leaving? If you will have me, I am coming with you. I love you, Ezra, and if you left me here, I fear that I would waste away from the heartbreak.”

“I swear flower, you make me the happiest man in the known universe. If you had said anything about not coming with me I think I would have left this mortal body from the sadness alone. I don’t think I could ever be far from you again.”

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After we both agreed that we would be leaving K-5 together when the time came in the following weeks, we started planning how exactly we were going to accomplish running away with each other. We both knew that my father would try and stop us, so we couldn’t risk him finding out any part of our plans. And as much as I hated it, I had decided to leave Anthony in the dark as well. I knew that, yes, in the past few months the two of us had gotten closer, but I still didn’t know how he would react if I told him. I still remember what he had said to me in the kitchen and I planned to keep that promise, but I couldn’t find it in me to tell him, still too scared that he might tell my father and dash all hope of me getting off this planet.

Ezra and I’s plan was simple, really. The plan was to have everything packed and ready to go the night before the ship would make its way to town. After my father goes to bed I would go to Anthony, say my goodbyes, and grab the money that was owed to Ezra for his work before going to the hayloft, with my packed things. That night Ezra and I would stay together and in the early morning light, we would leave for town. If everything went well, we both should be loaded onto the ship and gone before my father noticed that I hadn’t just gone on my usual Saturday morning supply run. Simple, as long as everything went accordingly.

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The weeks and days ticked by quickly, and my anxiety continuously rose. Ezra tried to calm me, giving me soft words and holding me at night, but I could tell that he himself was getting anxious as well. As the last week came, each night we would greet each other and do just about anything to distract ourselves from the looming escape. And as Friday came, I found that my bottom lip was chewed raw from the anxiety and anticipation for what was to come, but I couldn’t stop myself from continuing the bad habit, only wincing when I brushed over an especially sore spot on my lip.

The day itself was rather uneventful. I once again was doing laundry away from the other three, as they pulled in the last of the harvest. Before I had even realized it, it was time for dinner and as we all sat down for dinner, we ate in silence for the first time in what felt like forever. Surprisingly enough it was my father who broke that silence as we were all finishing up our food.

“You’re quiet for once in your life it seems. It almost seems suspicious,” my father spoke watching Ezra with careful eyes. To which Ezra just gave him an easy smile, and replied, “No reason to be suspicious, I assure you. I am just tired and the food was just too good to take breaks for speaking.”

“Hmmm, well I hope you enjoyed it because it’s gonna be your last meal here, I’ll have your money waiting outside in the morning and I want you gone by first light. If you’re not, well, only having one arm is gonna be the least of your problems.”

With that said, my father left the table and went straight to his bedroom. Looking back to Ezra, I found him looking down at his plate with a blank expression, his face neutral to whatever emotion was running through him at that moment. Glancing over at Anthony I found him watching me, and watched him open his mouth before speaking quietly.

“Listen, I don’t know what you two have planned, but dad has something planned as well. If you are leaving, I hope it’s gonna be before he has had a chance to even get up in the morning.”

Looking back to Ezra, I only saw him nod before he left the table as well. I watched as he grabbed his folded clothes, looked back at me with a small smile, and then walked out the back door. After he was gone, Anthony helped me clear the table and do the dishes, him drying as I cleaned, per our newer routine. And, after we had finished and before he could walk out of the kitchen, I wrapped my arms around him. 

“We are leaving in the morning. We hope to be gone by the time dad figures out I am not coming back from doing the shopping…”

“So this is goodbye, then?”

“Yeah, this is goodbye…”

With a hug and a kiss on my forehead, Anthony smiled at me and then left the kitchen, going upstairs to his room. Once again, I found myself standing in the kitchen losing track of time as I thought about what had just happened between Anthony and I. After I came back to the present though, I went and found the money my father had for Ezra, before making my way up to my room. 

Once in my room, I pulled the sack of belongings I had packed from underneath my bed where I had kept them hidden. Setting the bag on my bed I stashed the money away in one of the pockets before slinging the bag over my shoulder. Once again, I found myself stopping and looking around my room, taking everything in for one last time. When I found myself close to tears, I knew that it was time to leave, before the what ifs started to float around my head.

Making a quick and quiet escape out to the barn. Within minutes I was in the hayloft I found myself immediately being pulled into Ezra’s embrace. And, once I was in his arm, I felt a little bit of the stress that had built up this past month finally fade as I clutched him tightly.

“I am sorry for how my father has spoken to you these last few months. Nobody deserves to be treated the way he has treated you.”

“I would live through his constant torment and degradation of my character every day, if it meant that I could be with you. Flower, I do not care what he says to me, while his words may hurt, at the end of the day I still have you and you still have me no matter what he says or does. I love you so much, flower.”

“I love you too, Ezra.”

With that said Ezra lead me to the spot where he had been spending his nights. As we both laid down, Ezra held me close and whispered in my ear, as his hand trailed up my shirt. “Just one more time, for memory’s sake, flower?” And with my nodded consent Ezra brought me slow soft pleasure in the hayloft of my family’s barn before we drifted off to sleep for the first time holding each other. 

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When I awoke the next morning, it was still dark out, and it was to Ezra’s soft kisses all over my face. Smiling, I moved one of my hands to cradle his face and pull him into a kiss, before whispering him a good morning feeling his smile grow across my lips.

“I don’t think I will ever get used to the feeling of waking up with you next to me. I am not completely sure that I have not left the mortal realm in my sleep and have awakened to an angel in what many have called heaven.”

Laughing I nuzzled my nose into his neck and pressed a kiss to the hollow of his throat. “And I do not think I will ever get used to being woken up by a waxing poet every morning.”

Feeling Ezra's laugh, I pulled away from him and got up from the makeshift bed to pull the clothes that had been thrown from my body the night before back on. Hearing movement behind me, I knew that Ezra was doing the same, and when I turned around, I smiled softly as I found him pulling on one of the shirts I had gifted him, the pants already covering his beautifully strong legs. Catching me looking, Ezra smirked. 

“See something you like, flower? Because I know I do.” Moving over to where I stand with a blindingly wide smile, Ezra leans down and gives me a chaste kiss before walking over to our bags, as I followed behind. Grabbing mine and handing it to me, I slid it on as Ezra turned and grabbed his own. Once both bags were secure Ezra turned back to me, this time looking slightly unsure. “Are you ready, flower?”

“I’ve never been more ready for anything in my life. Ezra,” I say, and take his hand and hold his face. “Take me far away from here. Show me the universe and every secret you know.”

Leaning in, Ezra and I share one last passionate kiss before we made our way down the ladder and into the main portion of the barn. Once, we were both safely there, we both reached for the other’s hand as we walked to the barn door.

Right before we reached the doors, I was struck by the feeling that something was wrong. Before I could say anything, we reached the opening of the barn and I immediately realize why I felt that way, and judging by the way Ezra’s hand tightened in my own, he noticed as well. In the house the kitchen lights were on, and in the back doorway, there was the silhouette of my father holding what could only be his thrower rifle that he had stashed in the house. 

With the soft light of the rising sun, there was no way that my father didn’t see us standing there with our hands linked together. The three of us stood there, no one daring to move and inch, until my father moved the thrower and pointed it towards what I could only assume to be Ezra. He didn’t fire, but he did yell from the doorway, “I told you that there would be consequences, and I told you to stay away from my daughter. But all you do is talk so why did I expect you to know how to listen? Leave. Now. Before I decide to blow your brains out.”

Looking to Ezra with panic written across my face I only found him with a scowl on his face, as he held my hand tighter. And just as I went to whisper his name, Ezra spoke up and yelled back across to my father, “I was leaving right when you interrupted our departure. Now just lower the gun and we’ll be on our merry way. Out of your hair forever-”

“Like hell I am letting you take her. She’s staying right here and you are walking to town and leaving forever.”

Scared and on the verge of crying, I looked back towards my father, only to notice movement behind him. Ezra must have noticed as well because he laced his fingers with mine and whispered, get ready to run, before yelling back to my father. “I think you’ll find that she isn’t inclined to stay on this planet a day longer. She is leaving with me.”

(Thank you all again, you guys have made the last couple of months really amazing for me! I'm always looking for some interaction so please come say hi! I am planning out two more things coming in the future, a one-shot and another multipart fic! I am also always open to expanding this fic so if you have questions I would LOVE to answer them! As always likes, comments, and especially reblogs are super appreciated! I always love your guys’ feedback!)

Tags:  @babybelou @farrvey @anatanotegami @revolution-starter @cadelinhadopedropascal @lucifurrr @coolfishoperatoreagle @pugdalorian @callsigncatfish @marydjarin @jeeperky​ (user with crossed out names I couldn’t tag, sorry!)

[flipflap-flipflap]

[Alright take-two on this damn post.  First one got eaten by post editor right as I was ready to post.  You see how long this is?  Save to drafts, kids.]

I’m here to shove a manga on you: Ookami Shounen Wa Kyou Mo Uso O Kasaneru (The Boy Who Cried Wolf Also Told a Lie Today).  It’s a gender bending romance.  Despite how awful that probably sounds, it’s actually really fucking good and I do not say that lightly. 

(No spoilers, this is all in the first chapter)  A high school boy insecure about his intimidating face, Itsuki, has fallen for a shy loner girl, Tokujira, who does not seem specifically phased by his naturally scary face.  So he takes a risk and confesses, but she turns him down brutally.  Itsuki goes to his sister to lament his insecurities about his face, which he (more or less correctly) attributes as why he can’t make connections.  To give him a new perspective on his appearance, his sister (trans btw) gives him a makeover while he’s sleeping and then kicks him to the curb of her salon - fully crossdressed.  On his way home, Itsuki (♀) ends up bumping into Tokujira, and she mistakes him for a boyish girl.  Under this misunderstanding, she asks "her” for a favor...

She has androphobia, and she has it bad.  So much so she can’t even look at men without snapping violently or becoming physically ill.  And Itsuki (♀) is just boyish enough to trigger her, but not enough to lock her down.  So she asks for “her” help, to see if she can desensitize herself to her phobia. Itsuki’s in a bind for a couple obvious reasons, not the least being the guilt of deceiving Tokujira. But nonetheless, he genuinely wants to help her.  So, he decides to continue crossdressing, diving into a lie that he soon finds he has no easy exit from.

I really recommend this manga.  I cannot say that enough times.  It is phenomenal, shattering tropes left and right in fun and interesting ways.  Do yourself a favor and give this manga a try.

Personal feelings and meta analysis below the cut.  It’s, uh, ungodly long, and will get very spoilery.  But I will flag spoilers.  And there will be pretty pictures?

(Also, no, I did not go into this planning to compare a manga about crossdressing to the abolitionist writings of Frederick Douglass, but reality deserves to be a bit absurd sometimes.)

Before you think I’m getting spoilery, with the intro I gave or anything I don’t mark as spoilers, I’m really not.  Everything outside of spoilers is right on the package at the start.  It sounds like I’m spoiling late-game stuff, right?  That’s something that was really fantastic to me: this manga doesn’t spoon feed you.  There’s no arcs of pure silent angst, even at the lowest point in the story. These kids are smart, they think and intuit on the spot, and they share what they’re feeling with each other like good friends do.  Like that next panel down there with Itsuki introspecting about his confidence level while crossdressing?  That’s from the first chapter!  These kids are smart.  And god damn that is so nice to see.

There was a lot I liked about this manga, but at the top is how compelling the protagonist and his internal conflict are.  Right from the first chapter he’s already wracked with guilt about what he’s about to do: deceive this girl by pretending to be a safe space.  But Tokujira told Itsuki (♀) she hopes to one day be able to fall in love, and Itsuki wants to ensure she can have that - even if it’s not him that gets to confess to her.  He’s fully aware of exactly how fucked up what he’s doing is, and is appropriately beating himself up over it in a really realistic way.  But although the guilt never fades, it slowly gains company in happiness. He enjoys this new, fragile life he has constructed around the two precious new friends he's made as a girl.

It was probably easy to gloss over in the synopsis, but arguably the biggest part of Itsuki (♂)’s conflict is his complex about his face.  He looks dangerous, and because of that he is afraid to even lift his head or smile in front of others.  But as Itsuki (♀), he smiles and laughs without fear.  It becomes immediately clear to him on the first day that he's a more confident person while crossdressing.  Happier in a way he can't be as a man.

Botan is easily my favorite character in the series.  She’s introduced early on, as Tokujira’s first and only friend before Itsuki (♀).  At the start she’s a dangerous third wheel, a serious threat to Itsuki’s ability to keep up his lie.  And though the situation is (thankfully) defused rather quickly, she becomes a massive source of internal conflict for Itsuki. Nonetheless, she becomes a dear friend for both Itsuki ♂ and ♀. She’s just so...*chef’s kiss*

^This face is the repository of all my love and affection.

Mark my words, this is the first and I assume last time I will ever say this: love triangle good. You know it’s inevitable in a romance genre piece, but this manga approaches the trope in a new and compelling way. [Spoiler] Needless to say, it’s between Itsuki, Tokujira, and Botan.  But...there’s two Itsukis involved, ♂ and ♀, and in the center of it all is this lie. His lie stops being about him: it's about not hurting these two girls he cares so much about. [/Spoiler]

On a more personal note, I saw so much of myself in Itsuki’s older sister, Ibuki.  She runs a salon, catering especially to crossdressers and transwomen.  She’s a self-described “Youthling”, an alien from the planet Youth, obsessed with observing the exciting and turbulent lives of the youths of earth.  For more or less for the same reasons most of us do: transpeople don’t tend to get the youths we want, if we allow ourselves to experience youth at all. So it’s nice to be able to enjoy it vicariously, through this younger generation that is able to more fearlessly pursue the lives we couldn't. 

^Incidentally, one of my favorite interactions in the manga.

Despite getting Itsuki into this crossdressing mess, she’s someone he can always return to and confide in, and get good, helpful advice from.  Her whole philosophy is to give young people agency to explore their identities and find themselves, and though she tells Itsuki the road he's taking is dangerous as soon as she learns what he's doing, she'll always support him however she can.

That, I feel, is what separates her from other, more creepy/pedophilic enabler types, like Sawako from K-On! or Lucoa from Dragon Maid. It’s a refreshingly honest and respectful portrayal of a quirky adult just trying to be a good older sister.

The last thing I want to say, and I’m not going to even mark this as a spoiler because of course it’s going to happen and if you can’t predict that then you’re not my problem, is that Itsuki of course eventually has to drop his lie.  All I’ll say about it is that it is probably going to live in my head for years. Everything about it, the lead up, the execution, the fallout, and the recovery, are all so masterfully crafted for maximum emotional impact.

That’s all I want to say exclusively about my personal feelings.  On to analysis.  There will be a lot more contextual spoilers here that, even without reading the parts I’ve specially blocked off will probably leak through.  Read at your own risk, but I would recommend revisiting after you have finished the manga.

One thing I really want to talk about is language.  That’s right, I’m going to compare a crossdressing manga to The Narrative of the Life of Frederick Douglass, the autobiography of a freed slave turned abolitionist. Douglass talks about a concept that has remained imprinted on my mind ever since I first read it: how and why slaves struggled to comprehend the concept of freedom.  This wasn’t anything to do with fear or “racial inferiority” like pro-slavers would argue, but rather with a lack of vocabulary.  They have all of these feelings and things they know to be true, but lack the words to make meaningful sense of them.  For Douglass specifically, his life completely changed when he learned the word “abolition.”  It was like a floodgate burst, as he was suddenly able to put meaning to feeling, create context from chaos.

And that’s right, we see that happen in a big way, with Tokujira.  This should be an obvious development, but as it happens late in the manga I will mark it [Spoiler].  As Tokujira and Itsuki (♀) practice things like talking, eye contact, holding hands, etc., Tokujira naturally starts to fall for Itsuki (♀).  But she doesn’t understand that.  An important part of her character is that, growing up, she focused on expanding her vocabulary as much as humanly possible in the hopes of being able to better articulate herself.  So words are very important to her.  It’s not until she sees a work of lesbian fiction on display that she finally realizes that’s the word she’s looking for.  The floodgate bursts, and all of her emotions suddenly make sense.  She realizes she loves Itsuki (♀). [/Spoiler]

And I think that is a vital and underexplored concept when discussing LGBT youth, especially in countries where even knowledge of these concepts is taboo.  The reason so many LGBT youth struggle with their identities, especially trans youth, is because we do not have the vocabulary to conceptualize our feelings.  I am always excited to see this concept play out, especially in this context.  It’s such an important thing that needs to be addressed more broadly.

Moving on, I want to talk about historical context of the genre as it relates to what the author did here.  Notably, I want to talk about a specific trope rampant in Japanese queer fiction, specifically early lesbian fiction: the idea that queerdom is a meaningless, youthful phase that children will naturally and inevitably grow out of.  It’s problematic for obvious reasons.

[HELLA HELLA SPOILERS]  My kneejerk reaction to the ending of this manga was that the author fell into this trope.  In the end, Itsuki comes to the conclusion that he does not need to crossdress.  So again, kneejerk.  But...it really wasn’t like that.  He never had any dysphoria; crossdressing was always just a necessity of his circumstance.  Nonetheless he learned to analyze and value his experience crossdressing as a woman, and because of that grew as a man.  And as part of his journey to understand his identity we, through him, see why some people crossdress.  Along with his example, we see why his sister, a bona fide post-op transsexual, has made it a permanent change to her life.  Likewise, we see Miyama, who crossdresses purely for the gender euphoria, but has no (stated) interest in going all the way.  These are all presented as valid and meaningful. [/Spoiler]

Crossdressing, and gender nonconformity in general, is portrayed not as some one-dimensional fetish like cultural taboo would depict it to be, but rather a meaningful exercise for exploring and critically analyzing your own identity.  For some, yes, it’s a phase, but an importantly transformative one when done right.  While for others, it is a gateway to a new way of experiencing and enjoying life.  Or, it’s fun just for the pragmatic reasons...

I honestly cannot recommend this manga enough.  Tragically, I cannot imagine it ever getting an official english translation, so you’ll have to settle for a  scanlation like the one I linked in the title up top (and here, again).  It’s a really good translation, though the site is predictably sketchy.  Warning for lots of NSFW ads.

Read it, and then come talk to me about it!!!  There is basically zero fan community and I need to fangirl with someone!

[cadomoisspokenfor]

Legion Rewatch Notes,

Chapter 8:

The Revolution

Aw man, how unfortunate what’s happened to Clark. I feel soooooooo bad. I mean he was just humble div 3 agent, doing his job, gaslighting marginalized individuals, participating in a genocide. How cruel of those bad bad mutants to injure him so badly. He was only actively about to kill David. What could he possibly have done to deserve any of this?

In other words, the Clark propaganda is not working on me this time. At all.

Maybe don’t participate in a genocide? Idk :/

I normally hate when people type in the passive aggressive way I have been for the past few paragraphs, but goddamn, Clark deserves it.

He’s not quite as damaged... but he’s kind’ve like old David here, from the over-medicated living with Amy timeline. Again, not quite as damaged as that though.

Clark considers mutants a “threat to democracy.” 🙄 “Moral panic” I guess?

“The second I walk outta this room, i’m going to war.” There’s that word again. Clark could just... not, and they’d probably have more time to figure out how to safely eradicate Farouk. But because he doesn’t and David busies himself with peace treaties, Farouk escapes and continues to be a problem for the next year. Clark has a family. A husband and child who love him to death. And he chooses war over them. This pattern will repeat in other character. Technically this isn’t even the start of it.

Suit change, new cane, same Clark. This really doesn’t change anything, does it? He could go through the rest of the series in the suit he wore before and it wouldn’t make difference. The valiant hero dressing for an expected victory over their long time (relatively) rival, only to be stopped immediately by an unforeseen development. This pattern will repeat... tragically.

Considering Farouk!David woulda just dusted them, it’s probably nice for his friends to see the real him is much less violent. He just stacks em like a Jenga Tower, no need for anything more.

Also, Wilhelm scream from one of the soldiers.

He’s also talking strangely. In an almost too calm voice. Measured. He talks like this a few other times, but I think those times have sadder context. Maybe they reflect on this moment. He talks like how he talked when Farouk was mind-melded with him, but his intentions aren’t evil this time around. I guess this is just his “fully in control” voice.

Clark’s literally shaking where he stands.

The zoom in to Clark’s blind eye is reminiscent to previous zoom in’s to Walter’s foggy eye. I guess Clark has taken on the role of Walter, artificially. Makes sense since he’s now the main D3 representative/antagonist like Walter was before.

“I don’t care if you save me, or the world, if you don’t save yourself.” David will eventually choose himself over the world, and Syd. And Syd will hunt him for it. Goes to show how much things change in s2.

“You know the most dangerous thing about schizophrenia?”

“You’re not-“

“The most dangerous thing is believing... you don’t have it! That’s the trick, the mind killer, your disease convinces you you don’t have it. So, for example, one day in the hospital you meet a girl and she has some friends, and they tell you you’re not sick. You have superpowers. And more than anything you wanna believe it because that means you’re not crazy! That means you can fall in love and live happily ever after. But you know if you believe it, if you surrender to the hope and you’re wrong, then... you’re never coming back.”

“I’m here. I’m real. The power is real. You gotta accept it, otherwise we can’t move on.”

“I was in Clockworks for six years. Drugged, doing nothing. Contributing nothing. And now, finally I can be useful! I can help! Don’t you get it? I am so sick of myself. This only works if it’s not about me.”

“David...”

So... that’s a lot. David believes being crazy means he’s not allowed to fall in love, or be happy. He said the same sentiment to Amy before Clockworks. This whole season and this episode especially push David into his full “I’m not insane, I won’t believe you if you tell me otherwise” mindset. At the very least that’s the stakes we’re playing with. If David fully gives into the hope, even for a moment, he believes there’s no possibility for recovery. No possibility for love or happiness. Why even try after that? It’s life or death for him. “If the choice is between life and death, I choose life.”

I know this is all already known and talked about and circulated 100’s of times over in various fan circles, but it’s probably the most important line for David’s character (the speech, not the Farouk quote). It’s very ableist, yes, but at least in the moment it’s coming from someone who’s just being too hard on themselves, and not ya know, being actively validated by the show.

2 episodes ago David talked about being worried about an “invincible” feeling. The dangers of mania.

We also know from that episode that David is more at peace in a calm, responsibilityless setting (with Syd) than he is out in the real world. David’s gonna take on a ton of responsibility, some of it’s gonna draw him away from Syd. At multiple moments throughout the show David has known his own mental health better than any of the others, and even warned them about potentially dangerous slopes he could fall down without their help. Despite this, David is pushed further down a path he tells them is dangerous and is still blamed for what happens in the end. I feel like Oliver’s line from ep4 is relevant here again, “We are the root of all our problems. Our anger, our confusion, our fear of things we don’t understand.” Everyone wants David to be something other than... David. A hero, a god, there projected image of a perfect partner. Not just... David.

Man, the more I realize about David’s self-awareness in s1 the madder I am at Syd for saying all that ableist stuff to him in s2 as if he wasn’t already down on himself 24/7. “It never occurred to you that you’re the problem not the solution?” It’s occurred to him like 5 times by now and has been shut down by you at least 3 of those times. I don’t understand.

What’s strange is... to my recollection David doesn’t believe he’s invincible at the end of s2. Or that he’s not sick.

“Saint David.”

“I’m not saying that. I make mistakes.”

“Say you’re gonna let them kill me if I don’t let them turn me into something different. Something easy. Something clean.” He sounds sinister here, but it is an indication that he knows he’s not perfect. In fact it sounds like he’s trying to appeal to Chap 1 Syd’s mentality. Your disorder is what “makes you you.”

So what’s the message here?

“We can’t just kill people. Or is that who we are now?”

“That’s who they are.”

The justification for killing here is that they’ll kill them if they don’t. Div 3 will kill Summerland if Summerland doesn’t kill Div 3, is what I meant. David has a similar justification for killing Shadow King in s2. Well, he has a LOT of justifications for it, but that’s one of them. Syd doesn’t hear it then either. She does attempt to kill David herself though. I don’t quite understand where the line is.

“He was gonna kill you, twice.”

“With that kind of thinking wars would never end.”

So... he shoulda just talked to The Shadow King when they were both powerless? Talking is what ultimately ends their fight in s3... hmm...

Cary is more humane to their POW than Melanie and Ptonomy are.

The show doesn’t necessarily say it was Cary’s fault for leaving Kerry. Either way though, Kerry needs some space.

Melanie calls David a “world breaker” and outright says now that he knows that’s what he is, div 3 doesn’t stand a chance. I suppose... knowing that... is why they so readily team with Farouk. They stood no chance otherwise. Even then, at least hide him away till after the intervention.

David’s floating meditation pose is seen more in s2 and A LOT more in s3.

He puts the onus of ending the war on Div 3. As if to say, “If things get violent again, it’ll be on you, not us.”

People keep talking about “gods” “waking up” and “realizing they don’t have to listen to us/them anymore.”

When Clark says it David’s first response is, “Isn’t that the history of the world?” But it’s a red herring (or something else) cause he follows it up with, “People of different nations, different languages, learning to live together?”

Clark is afraid if mutants gain power they won’t show humans mercy or equality. This is a common belief among fascist. The “they’ll treat us like we treat them” argument. Only it’s rarely self-aware, and it isn’t here either. Clark genuinely believes he’s not doing anything wrong. It’s all somehow in “self defense.”

Ah, so Farouk and Syd are connected psychically. He entered her mind whenever she entered David’s. He psychically affects her at multiple points throughout the series.

Syd here is convinced to help The Shadow King by The Shadow King. And while he’s wearing a mask at that. Yeah yeah, this pattern will repeat. But still, Syd gives in relatively quickly here. Perhaps she just... doesn’t fully trust Summerlands capabilities? They are legitimately trying to get rid of Farouk, but Farouk has proven time and time again how dangerous he is. Or maybe the “unmake soup” thing is just that convincing to Syd.

Clark’s still standoffish, but he’s slowly becoming more cooperative.

Syd rolled a 4 on that hero speech. She needed at least a 7.

I legitimately NEVER noticed before that Syd secretly turns on the lab camera feed for Clark to watch. They weren’t trying to show him that.

David gets a chance to look back at his whole life and recontextualize everything.

David straight up halts Farouk’s theme. If Clockworks Podcast is right and he can hear that whenever Farouk shows up, this would be evidence of it. Alternatively, he was halting Farouk, and the music halting was for the audience. A fun subversion of expectations.

David describes him and Farouk as, “The Sun and Moon.”

Division 3 sees it. The monster they saw on infrared. Clearly a separate entity from David Haller. Clearly of a different disposition than David Haller as David Haller has acted very differently and non-hostile compared to when they saw him roaming those HQ halls. The monster and David are not the same. They see who their real enemy is now.

It seems evident there was no chance of David beating Farouk on his own here. I wonder why? Was it true? Is Farouk just too ingrained in his mind? Cary said he was like a, “Computer virus. Learning his systems, bypassing his defenses.” Maybe Syd remembered that, and that’s why she believed Farouk. Cause Cary had already said something similar before.

Clark could've escaped, but he stayed, then tried to help fight Farouk.

I feel really sad Oliver got possessed. It never occurred to me before he could even tell Melanie he remembered her. Melanie’ll just go on thinking he never remembered her for a year.

And thus it’s established. There are “good mutants” and there are “bad mutants.”

No one checks on Ptonomy :(

The Lenny that’s talking to Oliver here is still just Farouk.

Did the orb go back as far as it could? Or was this time specifically chosen? If it was chosen, it was probably because it’s very soon after Farouk had been expelled from David’s head, and before the big race for his body starts.

[vampiregirl1797]

Bad Days End With Cuddles

GIF Not Mine.

 Summary: You have an argument with your father, but what else is new? You’re left feeling sad, anxious and wishing your profiler boyfriend was home. Don’t worry, he gets there eventually and when he does, cuddles are in store.

 Warnings: Some family inspired angst but it ends in fluff, I promise.

 Click Here For Masterlist.

 Word Count: 2,230.

 Spencer Reid x Reader

 Today was a bad day. There were perhaps more eloquent ways of describing it, but that’s what I was going with. It was bad. It hadn’t started out that way; the morning and most of the afternoon had actually been pretty normal. I woke around noon, had some toast for breakfast and spent most of the day watching the Big Bang Theory on Netflix. All was well, until I received that phone call from my father. He spent fifteen minutes yelling at me for a post I’d shared on Facebook with some of my thoughts added onto it. Apparently he disagreed and spent a quarter of an hour yelling his opinions, not listening to what I had to say, and telling me I had no right to be angry because it was his opinion. The phone call ended with tears forming in my eyes and a lump of despair in my gut. That was how most conversations with him ended, and I don’t know why I hoped for something different every time I picked up the phone.

Since I’d moved out four years ago, things had been better, but that just meant my interactions with him were now minimised, it didn’t have any affect on how the conversations ended, which was usually with me in tears.

 I always felt bad for even thinking it, but my life with my father in it had meant unhappiness for me. When I lived at home, I was constantly walking on eggshells, taking care with my words when it actually came to speaking to him. I was never completely relaxed whenever he was home, because I knew how quickly his temper could change. He wasn’t physically abusive, but knowing he could go from joking to furious in a three second interval prevented me from feeling comfortable in my own house. Which was why it was such a relief when I could finally afford to move out and buy an apartment of my own. It hadn’t been anything fancy, but it was big enough for me, fairly close to work, and most importantly it was mine. Somewhere I could be me; somewhere I could be completely relaxed. It was a place where I could leave the place a complete mess and decide when I wanted to clean it up, rather than living under one roof with three other people and being anxious as to whether my dad would target his anger in my direction when the messy house was suddenly unacceptable.

 It was my safe haven, and it stayed that way until I met my boyfriend a year and a half after I’d moved in. Spencer Reid, special agent for the FBI, behavioural analyst, doctor and love of my life. We’d met when he’d passed through my hometown with his team to catch a serial killer who was engraving pentagrams into his victims’ foreheads. I’d been interviewed as I’d treated one of the victim’s a few hours before his death at the ER, where I’d worked as a nurse. Something had sparked between us, and I thought I’d imagined it until he returned the following day after the unsub had been caught, to ask me for my number.

 We kept in touch as best as we could, both of us worked long hours, but him especially. But we made a point to make time for one another, whether it be a random text at any hour of the day, or a phone call that stretched from five minutes to five hours depending if we both had the time or not. And despite the distance, I had been happy to have him in my life, I looked forward to hearing his voice, or checking my phone on my break at work to be greeted by a text from him. Weekend trips were managed once a month, I went to him a few times, but usually he came to me, eager to create some distance between him and Virginia for a few days. He loved his job, but he confided that a little space to be with me and to only have to focus on me was somewhat of a reprieve for him, something he didn’t realise just how much he needed until he met me.

 This continued for six months, until I realised that my sanctuary lost its calm, its tranquillity when he left me after our weekends together. He had become my happy place, my home. So, I’d tentatively proposed the idea of me moving to Quantico so that we could be closer. He’d beamed at the idea and just as bashfully asked me to live with him instead. I’d accepted, and now here I was, at our apartment on one of my rare days off, crying, anxious, frustrated and hurt. Spence was on a case here in Virginia, which meant he was working from their home base. I briefly considered calling him, but I banished that thought before it could fully form. He needed to be fully present at work and I’d never forgive myself if my problems clouded his mind and prevented him from doing his job. He’d never blame me of course and if he knew I was thinking this way he would be quick to assure me that I can always come to him, no matter what case he’s working on. But I couldn’t be that selfish.

 So with a sigh I tossed the grey comforter I’d pulled around myself aside and headed for the bathroom. A bath with one of my bath bombs would help, at least I hoped—I planned on closing my eyes and pretending Spencer was there; assuring me everything was going to be all right. But when I reached into the wicker basket that held my bath necessities, all of my bath bombs were gone. A fresh wave of tears fell down my cheeks, perhaps an overreaction, but I already felt so low—couldn’t I just have something to make me feel better? I decided to forget the bath idea and headed into our bedroom instead, climbing into the centre of the queen-sized bed, curling up into a ball under the covers while hugging Spence’s pillow to my chest. His cologne was faint in the cotton, but it was enough to ease the ball of sadness in my gut. A small sigh fell from my lips as my eyes slipped closed, unconsciousness eager to claim me and I wasn’t about to fight the reprieve from the melancholy.

 //

 I wasn’t sure what bought me to the land of consciousness, but it bought me so gently that it took me a moment to realise that I’d actually woken up. I blinked a few times, urging the sleep out of my eyes, as a yawn worked its way up my throat. I looked around the dark room, able to see the basic outlines of furniture thanks to the slither of light shining in from the hallway. That made me pause—I’d come for a nap in the early afternoon so I hadn’t left any lights on. That meant Spencer was home. A burst of energy shot up my spine as I shimmied out of the thick duvet to look for my boyfriend. I found him in his armchair, his brow wrinkled in thought as he read over the case file in his lap. The sight warmed my heart—I loved seeing his expression of concentration, how his lips pursed and his brow furrowed—and made me hesitate. I didn’t want to disturb him if he was still working. He must have sensed that I’d joined him in the room as he looked up, his eyes beaming with happiness as he took in my sleepy, dishevelled appearance. No matter how I looked, he always stared at me with such love, adoration and bewilderment, as if he couldn’t believe I was stood here in front of him. I felt my cheeks darken, as they always did, and my smile mirrored his own as it grew on his lips.

 ‘Hey honey, are you still working?’ I asked, my voice thick with sleep. I crossed my arms over my chest as I attempted not to fidget and show just how much I needed him to hold me right now.

 ‘Not at all. Just filling in some paperwork, but that can wait, come here darling.’ He tossed the case file onto the coffee table in front of him and held his arms open by way of invitation.

 I didn’t hesitate, closing the five-steps that separated us with ease and climbing into his lap. The softness of his cardigan, his warmth and the cologne that was a lot stronger than what lingered on his pillow, made me melt into him. A long sigh left my lips as all of the tense emotions left my body, leaving behind the relaxation I only felt in his arms. I tried to hide it in his chest, but of course he wasn’t fooled, he was one of the most observant people I’d ever met, which was typical of a profiler. His hand moved up and down my spine, the touch gentle and coaxing.

 ‘Everything okay?’ his voice was soft and I appreciated it, my eyes fluttering closed as my face nuzzled into the spot in between his neck and shoulder I always sought out.

 ‘My dad called earlier, pissed about the comment I added to the post I shared on Facebook.’ I said, my tone matching his but I knew he felt the few tears that fell onto his shoulder when he held me tighter and kissed my hair.

 I didn’t need to say anything else, he knew about the relationship between my dad and I, and he never commented on it. He never advised me on what to do, and I knew he wouldn’t unless I specifically asked him, but I’d been avoiding that for a while. I had a feeling I knew what he would suggest, and I didn’t know if I was ready to terminate my relationship with my father, because that could mean I’d lose my mother too. As estranged as my relationship was with him, I was close with my mom, and I didn’t know if I could bear losing her. But I’d reached the point where I had to consider it, because I shouldn’t have to go through this when I spoke to my dad. Not every conversation ended this way, but it happened often enough that every interaction had me walking on eggshells for what had the potential to happen.

 ‘Spence… what do you think I should do? With my dad?’ I murmured into the skin of his neck, where my face was safely tucked away.

 ‘His behaviour is consistently repeated and the way he interacts with you isn’t something I see changing without conscious effort from the both of you, and I don’t think you’ll get that from him.’ He paused, kissing my hair, ‘I think you should do whatever is best for you, Y/N. Whatever makes you happy, and whatever that is, you’ll have my support.’

 It was easy to realise when he put it like that. My dad was toxic to my happiness and if I continued to allow him into my life, it would always be that way. Spence was right, it was never going to change, and I was just wasting time and putting myself through this despair in hoping that it would. And if my mother loved me like I loved her, she could continue to be in my life and hopefully respect my decision.

 I pulled back to rest my forehead against his, my eyes fluttered shut at the touch but I forced them open so he could read the emotions in my eyes: love, gratitude and adoration.

 ‘Thank you, Spence.’ I kissed his lips once, ‘you are the most wonderful, kind, considerate person I’ve ever met and I’m so grateful for you every single day. I love you.’

 His eyes softened to cinnamon, his hand caressed the side of my face and he returned the sentiment, whispering the words into the kiss as his lips once again moved with mine. We pulled apart after a few moments and I made us both a mug of camomile tea to take to bed, knowing he’d need the calming herbs to help him sleep. Once we were all snuggled in bed, the hot beverages drained and the lamps turned off, I found myself thinking about how lucky I was. It was something that often crossed my mind, and how could it not when I had someone as amazing as Spencer Reid in my life? The truth was, as tempted as I’d been to cut my father from my life over the years, it hadn’t been something I’d really considered until I had him in my life. Because he was the person who showed me what it was like to have someone you could depend on, always. To have someone whom I knew would love me, and be there for me no matter what I decided to do. To have someone who would support my decisions without judgement or question. The truth was you could face anything alone, but having someone you loved by your side, someone you knew would be by your side, holding your hand no matter what, made the battle that much more bearable.

 A/N: Don’t know where this one came from! I’ve been binge watching Criminal Minds the past few days and binge reading Spencer Reid x Reader fanfiction, so I suppose this was bound to happen. Of course it had to end in fluff, especially with this wonderful man—I have a soft spot for him—though it was mostly angsty I hope you enjoyed!