#And he’s gonna have to avoid the Paps for the rest of his life

[shiftingwithmars]

God, I feel so deeply for Bear

[hangovercurse]

The Things We Can’t Tell Pete About iii

Colson takes you on your first date.

Colson x Reader

Warnings: Cursing, teeth-rotting fluff

Word Count: 2721

| i | ii | iv | v |

Friday couldn’t come soon enough, even though it was only 5 days after your encounter at Pete’s house. You had been texting each other all week, he would send you pictures of him in the studio and you would tell him of the various artists you were working with.

And you were both avoiding Pete like the plague.

You felt bad, you really did. You loved your older brother, a lot. But if you were around him you wouldn’t be able to stop yourself from telling him about the date. You told him everything, and it was already hard enough not to tell him when you weren’t around him.

You were so nervous about hiding the date beforehand that you never stopped to consider what would happen afterwards. On one hand if it went really well, there would most likely be more, and if it went really bad, you’d have to explain to Pete why you didn’t want to be around the guy you’d gotten along so well with.

None of that crossed your mind. What did cross your mind, however, was that you had no idea where you were going. You had been asking Colson all week, trying to plan an outfit, but he wouldn’t tell you.

You’ll find out on Friday.

Okay but that still doesn’t help me

You’ll look amazing in whatever you wear

I will end you -_-

I would let you

You smiled a bit too wide when you read that, a blush coming to your cheeks.

Just wear something casual 😊

“JuSt WeAr SoMeThInG cAsUaL”

I mean you could just show up naked…

-_-

Just saying ;p

Watch yourself Kelly

I’d rather watch you

 Friday came along, and you were looking at the clock every 5 minutes. Lea, a new artist that you had been writing with for the past few months, took notice. “Someone’s got a big date tonight.”

You tilted your head and sent a joking glare to the girl. “I’m just saying, you’re looking at the clock like it’s gonna explode.” She smiled as you sighed.

“I haven’t been on a date in so fucking long, Lea.” You whined, throwing your head back, “I’m so excited.”

She chuckled, “who’s the lucky guy?” She shook her shoulders and you let out a giggle.

“I technically can’t tell you that.”

Her eyes went wide, “what’s that supposed to mean?”

You smiled widely, “technically speaking I’m not supposed to be going on a date with him. He’s kind of my brother’s best friend.”

Her jaw dropped, hands spreading on the table, “you’re joking!” You laughed loudly, shaking your head. “Y/N that’s against sibling law!”

“I know, I know. But it’s not my fault he’s the most attractive man I’ve ever seen and he’s into me. What was I supposed to do?” You frowned and she sighed.

“What does he look like?”

“I would show you a picture but then you would know who he is, but I can tell you he’s hot as fuck.”

Lia pouted, the wheels spinning in her head. “Wait, so he’s famous?” You bit your lip, giving her her answer. “Holy shit, Y/N! What if the press catches you guys out together? Pete’s definitely gonna see then.”

You groaned, throwing your head into your hands, “I know, but it’s just one date. And he promised it would be somewhere secluded.”

“Ohhh.” She dragged out the last sound, her voice getting higher. “Secluded, huh?”

You rolled your eyes, “you’re paying me to write songs for you, not tell you about my love life.” You giggled and she sighed.

“Fine, but if you don’t write a song about all this, I’m gonna be very upset.”

“Whatever you say, Lea.”

 I’m outside

Your heart skipped a beat when you got his text, checking yourself out in the mirror once more. “Fuck it, here goes nothing.” You mumbled to yourself before walking out of your apartment, locking the door behind you. You had told Colson to pick you up behind the building, so that if there were any paps on the street, they wouldn’t see you.

You walked out to find him leaning against his car, a smirk coming to your lips as you drank him in. He looked even hotter than that first night, and you knew you were in for trouble. When he saw you, he bit his bottom lip, a smile on his face as he checked you out.

“Hey.” You said once you got close to him. “I’m supposed to be going on this date tonight with this really hot Rockstar, have you seen him?” You tilted your head slightly.

He raised an eyebrow at you before deciding to follow along. “A hot Rockstar? Hm, no, I don’t think I have.”

“Bummer, I was really excited.” You let out a dramatic sigh.

He chuckled, “sounds like an asshole, if you ask me.”

“Oh, he totally was.” You giggle, scrunching your nose, “but the coolest asshole I’ve ever met.”

“I mean, I’m not hot asshole Rockstar but I do have a car. I could take you out instead?” You tilted your head, pretending to think about it.

“Hmmmm, I don’t know…” You trailed off, a smirk still on your lips.

He rolled his eyes, grabbing your hand and leading you to the passenger side seat as he spoke. “Oh my god just get in the car.”

You chuckled as you sat down, him joining you a few moments later. You looked over at him as he started the car, still half convinced you were dreaming. He caught you staring, sending you a glance before he pulled from where the car was. “What?”

“Nothing.” You smiled, not looking away from him.

“If you keep looking at me like that, I am going to crash this car.” He chuckled, a blush coming to his cheeks as he paid attention to the road in front of him, trying to ignore your gaze.

You giggled, turning to face forward. “I can’t help it,” you started, “you’re nice to look at.”

He rolled his eyes, “well I could’ve told you that.”

You leaned your head back, letting out a dry laugh. “And not conceited at all.”

He bit his tongue, both of you grinning like idiots as you drove down the streets of New York. You continued to bother him about where he was taking you, but he wouldn’t budge, telling you that you would find out when you got there.

He pulled into a small dirt parking lot next to an expanse of trees. There were only two other cars in the lot, and the forest seemed secluded. He turned the car off, getting out and walking over to open your door, helping you up. “This is cute.” You said, taking in the scenery around you. It wasn’t very often you got to be around nature without a lot of people crowding the wildlife.

Colson smiled as he opened the trunk, pulling out a literal picnic basket and blanket. “Yeah, well, you’re cute. So, I thought it would be fitting.” You blushed, reaching out to try and take the blanket from his hand but he moved it out of your reach.

You pouted, “well I was gonna try and hold your hand but both of your hands are full so I guess I’ll just have to suffer.”

Colson rolled his eyes, shifting so that the blanket rested on top of the basket all in one hand, grabbing yours with the other. You intertwined your fingers with his, the feeling very natural. You had never been this straight-forward with a guy, especially one you just met, but it just came so easily with Colson. “All you had to do was ask, princess.”

Your cheeks turned red at the nickname, so you turned your head away from him slightly. He chuckled at the movement and you pouted. Colson swung your arms as you walked onto a trail leading through the forest. “This is really cheesy, you know that, right?” You asked, looking up at him.

He nodded, meeting your eyes, “Yeah, I know.”

“Very un-Rockstar-like.” You commented. “If anyone found out you were a hopeless romantic your reputation would be ruined.”

“No one would believe you if you told anyone.” He laughed, “but you have to admit, this is gonna be the best first date you’ve ever been on.”

You were too distracted by his blue eyes to notice the scenery around you, the beautiful trees swaying with the slight breeze, the sound of water rushing in the distance. “I guess we’ll see.” You smirked; your tongue pressed against your bottom teeth.

“You are mean.” He muttered, shaking his head. You giggled, finally taking your eyes off his and finding the shoreline a few hundred feet in front of you. Your smile widened at the sight and you squeezed his hand.

“You really are a hopeless romantic.” You giggled as your feet hit the sand and Colson groaned at your words. “I like it!”

He grinned at you as you grabbed the blanket from his arm, spreading it out. “Well, we couldn’t exactly go out to the city without risking being seen and you deserve better than my house. So, you get a picnic on the beach.”

You rolled your eyes as he set the picnic basket down, sitting on the blanket and pulling you down next to him. “Just say you thought it would be romantic.”

“I never said I didn’t!” He opened the basket, pulling out various dishes and setting them onto the blanket in front of you. He then pulled out a bottle of red wine and two glasses.

You raised your eyebrow, “didn’t take you as a wine drinker.” You giggled

His eyes went wide, “just let me have this, woman.”

“I wasn’t complaining, I just think it’s kind of funny.” He rolled his eyes as you leaned into him, his arm wrapping around you. “Seriously, though, this is really sweet. No one has ever taken me on a picnic date.” You leaned your head against his shoulder, smile never leaving you.

“If you tell anyone I did this I’ll kill you.” He mumbled and you hid your laugh.

“I thought no one would believe me?” You looked up to his face, taking in his sharp jawline. You wanted to lean up and press your lips to it, but you resisted the temptation. You felt his chest move as he laughed silently, pulling you even closer to him.

The rest of the night passed just as easily, conversation flowing naturally between you and Colson. He told you all about his daughter, his friends, and the movie that he and Pete had wrapped. You talked about your music and the people you were writing for. It was easy to just exist around him, something that didn’t happen with very many people. Colson was real and open and made everything else seem to just disappear. You could understand why Pete had taken such a liking to him.

You two had stayed long after the food was gone and the sun had set. Colson brought out two candles and lit them, making you swoon even further. It was like a fairytale, and you never wanted to leave.

Throughout the night there were moments when you almost grabbed his face and kissed him, and you were sure he felt the same way. But you didn’t want to mess up what was going so well by moving too fast. And you still hadn’t discussed the not-so-small challenge of your relationship, Pete.

Eventually, when you had almost fallen asleep in his tattooed arms, Colson decided you guys had best be leaving. You packed up the food and candles, making jokes and basking in each other’s presence. Once Colson had placed everything back in the trunk, he made his way over to the passenger side door that you were leaning against.

He placed his hands against the car on either side of you, leaning down to be as level as possible with you. “I had a lot of fun tonight.” You said, softly.

His face was dangerously close to yours, the intimacy taking your breath away. “I did too.” His voice matched yours. His eyes wandered your face, occasionally drifting down to your lips before pulling away.

“I really like you, Colson.”

He smiled widely; his eyes gleaming. “I really like you too, Y/N.” He mimicked your phrasing. “What would you say if I said I wanted to take you out again?”

Your tongue peeked out between your lips slightly, “I guess you’ll have to ask and find out.”

He let out a sigh, “you are not gonna go easy on me, are you?” You shook your head, your smirk reaching your eyes. “Good.” He whispered, leaning in closer to you. You could move forward and close the gap between your lips, but you weren’t going to be the one to make the first move. “Will you go out with me again? Soon?”

You smiled at his eagerness, “I would love to. How soon?”

“Does Sunday make me sound too eager?”

You tilted your head, humming. “Nah, Sunday’s perfect.”

“Would it make this night better or worse if I kissed you right now?” His words made your heart flutter, your arms moving up his chest to rest lazily on his shoulders.

“I guess you’ll have to find out.” He chuckled at that, glancing up.

“What have I gotten myself into?” He whispered but the smile on his face screamed volumes.

You giggled softly, “are you gonna kiss me or not?”

His smile widened before he leaned in to meet your lips. His hands moved to your waist as you pulled him closer to you by his neck. This kiss was different from the first ones you shared, it was soft and sweet. You weren’t hungry for each other, dancing in the dark to hide from your brother and taking the few moments you could get, you were just two people kissing for the sake of it.

He pulled away slowly, his nose still touching your own. You both stood there for a while, enjoying the feeling of the other and the breeze that blew between you. Finally, he mumbled, “We should probably get going.” Despite his words, he didn’t move.

You nodded in agreement against him but also made no effort to get in the car. Instead, you leaned forward and captured his lips in yours again. It was small and quick, but just as sweet. “Fuck I’m already so far gone.” Colson mumbled before pushing himself off of you, his eyes locked on yours.

You blushed, leaning off the car and finding the handle. “You aren’t the only one.”

 Your hand was intertwined with his the entire way home, both of you grinning like idiots as music played quietly on the radio. “I don’t want to be the one to bring it up, but what are we gonna tell your brother?” He asked, his eyes on the road.

You sighed, looking out the window, “I don’t know yet. I don’t wanna hide anything from him but at the same time if we told him he’d freak out.”

“But why would it bother him that much?” Colson asked, and you frowned.

“I don’t know, I think he’s worried about what happens if we break up. He doesn’t have many close friends and he seems to really like you, so he doesn’t want to have to choose between us or feel awkward around us if things end badly.”

Colson nodded, thinking. “But he wouldn’t pick me over you, ever. I wouldn’t let him.”

“Yeah, and he knows that but it doesn’t make it any easier for him.” You sighed. “I don’t know, maybe I’ll try and bring up the idea and see how he reacts.”

“It’s your decision. And if you decide that you don’t wanna do this with me because of Pete, I’d completely understand.” You smiled at his words, your heart melting at his thoughtfulness.

You squeezed his hand, “You are so much sweeter than you let people think, you know that?” He nodded, a soft smile on his features. “I’m not giving up on this.” You whispered.

“I won’t either.” He glanced over at you, briefly taking in your angelic appearance before turning his eyes back to the road.

[hufflepuffhollander]

5 times it didn’t, 1 time it did: tom holland imagine

a/n | this is my first submission for @hollandsrecs​ 1k bingo event! the prompt was “5 times, 1 time”, a concept you’ll soon understand! I really enjoyed writing this and got really in my Feelings™ listening to Mean it by Gracie Abrams (give it a listen). 

summary: Tom keeps missing his chance to make things right with you after rumors spread about an affair with one of his costars. 

tom x fem reader | contains angst for days, language, and resolution fluff | word count: 2.2k | enjoy!

“I can’t believe you.”

“What, what can’t you believe?”

“You told me you’d never let the tabloids come in between our relationship.”

“As far as I’m concerned, they haven’t. You’re still sitting here, aren’t you?”

“In our apartment? Seriously?”

“What do you want from me?”

“To call your publicist or your manager or whoever the hell will be able to shut all this shit down.”

“It’s the internet, y/n. You can’t ‘shut it down’. What’s out there is out there.”

“Why are you being so apathetic about this?”

“Why is it such a big deal?”

“Half the country thinks you’re dating your costar and that I’m a desperate sidepiece.”

“You know you’re not.”

“But they don’t.”

“So?”

“Is it so hard to come out and say that it’s not true?”

“People will think what they want regardless of what I say.”

“You know what, fuck this.”

You got off the couch, throwing your hands up in defeat.

“I don’t know why I have to try so hard to convince you to make this relationship a priority.”

Tom sighed heavily, starting to get off the couch and follow you out of the room, but receded and stayed planted. He wanted to say something that would make you turn around and come back, something to figure it out. To tell you that you were a priority, really his first one. But he didn’t know how to say that, and he stayed silent.

He could’ve apologized, and he didn’t. This was the first time you’d ever walked out of an argument without resolving the problem and ending it with a hug and mutual I-love-you’s. It took all of your gathered strength to keep facing forward and walk further and further away from him, instead of running back, folding into his arms and seeking out the comfort that was his body heat. It epically sucked that he had the power to make you both the angriest and happiest you ever knew how to feel.

You and Tom went to sleep that night silently, staying a hundred feet apart in your queen sized bed, backs turned towards each other. You hated feeling the draft between your loose shirt and bare back — he hated not being able to fall asleep inhaling your shampoo with his head against the back of yours. You stayed awake listening to the silence, hoping he’d speak. Hoping he’d say he was sorry, that he’d fix it. But all he did was yawn, or sigh, or stretch out and pull his hand back like it had been burned when he accidentally grazed your arm. You were both miserable, but he still didn’t apologize, second opportunity to fix things passing by as soon as it had come.

The next morning, you woke up later than you meant to and couldn’t avoid Tom waking up next to you, making inevitable eye contact as you’d naturally shuffled closer together in your sleep, like your bodies were ready for a closure your minds weren’t ready to come to.

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

Your phone buzzed and you made the mistake of checking it. More and more notifications poured in from friends asking if you and Tom were still together, “who this costar bitch thought she was”, seeing how you were handling it. You realized still nothing had been done about it, and the same nasty feelings from the day before resurfaced anew. Tom saw your face drop and rolled onto his back, pretending to be interested in the ceiling.

“Plans today?” he asked.

“Just doing damage control and convincing infinite circles of friends that I’m not suddenly single and in a downward spiral behind closed doors,” you responded, sounding harsher than you meant to.

He put his hands over his face.  “If they really were your friends they wouldn’t have to ask,” he said bluntly. Your belly filled with a dull fire.

“Is that really the angle you’re gonna take right now?” you said, trying to ignore the tears preemptively pinpricking the corners of your eyes. Tom realized he had played the asshole card when he turned to see your face painted with hurt, and again, tried to spit out the words that he was sorry. But he didn’t, and his third chance flew out the open window. You shivered at the draft, and Tom went to instinctively wrap his arms around you, but stopped himself when you looked at him puzzled, as he couldn’t handle doing really anything when he saw how gray your eyes looked.

“y/n, I think this has gotten-“

“Save it,” you said, swiftly getting out of bed. You didn’t care to be insulted another time before 9 am, or feel your attachment to the love of your life sever a little more before you’d even brewed your coffee. You threw on the first thing you found, tied your hair up, grabbed your bag and then your keys.

“I’ll see you before the interview later.”

Truthfully, Tom’s talk show interview tonight was hours and hours away, but you wanted to avoid another emotional hit from him as long as possible.

Tom felt his chest sink as he heard the lock click after you. Why couldn’t he just apologize? Was it that hard? Sure, he didn’t agree with you. The tabloids always blew any gossip they could create out of proportion, turning every friendly hug between friends into a lover’s affair. But addressing it to the public only ever just fanned the fire. He didn’t want to give in to the pressure, but could see how it was starting to break you.

You walked into your flat with barely enough time to get ready after a long, tiring day of thinking and overthinking, wanting nothing more than to come home and be with your best friend, to cry to him about your problems and let him kiss and cuddle the pain away. Never before had he actually been the problem, though. That was uncharted territory, and you were afraid to see him tonight and face either inevitable fighting or excruciating silence. You met at the car and got in wordlessly. Only once you’d pulled onto the highway did Tom decide to speak.

“I think we need to talk about what’s been going on, yeah?”

“I guess so.”

“I just want you to understand that my not saying anything publicly doesn’t mean I’m not denying the rumors being spread. Staying silent is taking a stand, in a way.”

“In a way,” you said quietly. You really didn’t want to ruin your makeup before the show and hoped staying soft would keep the emotional floodgates from breaking open.

“I’m trying not to add fuel to the fire, love,” he said, placing a hand on your thigh. You stared down at that hand you loved and didn’t respond.

“I feel like I have no dignity left.”

He exhaled and frowned.

“Do you know what people are saying about me?” you squeaked without meaning to.

“I’ve told you to stop reading all those articles.”

“Right, because that’s the problem.” You rolled your eyes and moved your leg away from under his hand. He awkwardly placed it on the gear shift and didn’t dare to look at you for fear of breaking down himself.

“I just wish you’d stand up for me.”

“I’m doing it in my own way,” he trailed off. But that wasn’t good enough for you.

“And you can’t see that maybe that’s not enough?”

“I-“ He was about to say sorry — you could’ve sworn you hear the first syllable. But a car in front changed lanes and cut him off.

“Fucker.” 

After that wise remark, silence. Fourth chance to apologize up in smoke. You looked out the window and said nothing until you pulled up to the studio entrance. You saw lines of flashing bulbs of cameras, news trucks and reporters. Why did everything have to be such a thing? Tom cleared his throat and turned to you.

“y/n, love, go ahead and get out here and I’ll meet you inside.”

You looked back at Tom blankly.

“We’re not going in together?”

“I don’t want to subject us to all the paps out there,” he said, refusing to make eye contact. “If you go alone, my security team can cover you. They can’t cover us both.”

Your whole body felt cold. “Are...are you serious?”

It looked like telling you to face the crowd without him was the hardest thing he’d ever had to do. So why was he doing it?

“I’ll meet you inside-“

You cut him off by loudly undoing your seatbelt and putting your heels on, shooting daggers at him the whole time.

“I should’ve stayed home.” You opened the car door and got out.

“y/n, I’m-” You slammed the door shut before you could hear the rest of his words. Five chances he had to make it right, five times he absolutely blew it. You weren’t sure this was something you even wanted anymore. How could you clearly mean so little to him when he was your everything?

~

“...and give it up for Tom Holland!” the audience cheered wildly at the sight of your boyfriend walking out on stage, shaking the host’s hand and waving with a bright-eyed and cheery smile at the crowd. You’d chosen a smart seat in the back so as to hide from anyone who might recognize you — you were not in the mood to socialize, and frankly, if Tom didn’t currently have the only set of car keys, you would’ve driven yourself home. You could see him scanning the audience until his eyes landed on you, and you stared at him with an expression completely unfeeling, blinking slowly until he turned away. 

He continued to woo the host and the crowd with his heartfelt answers and funny anecdotes, but even you were immune to his charm tonight. You felt detached, alone. You wondered how you’d spent so long with this boy who had no respect for you or how you felt.

“So, not to put you on the spot, but-”

“Uh oh,” Tom laughed, the audience along with him.

“No, no, bear with me,” the host chuckled. “I’m sure you’re no stranger to all the rumors going around about this relationship you’ve gotten into with your costar in the new Spiderman movie coming out next year, can you give us any inside scoop on that?”

Tom shuffled in his chair looking uneasy, running a hand through his already messy hair, a telltale sign that he was nervous. You hated how well you knew him.

“I mean, I don’t like to give into all the gossip,” he said, trying to play it off. “But if you want to talk about the movie-”

“We will, we will! But you know what we all really care about...” the host laughed, pushing Tom to keep talking.

“Look, we’ve all grown close on set, like a little family. And I can’t believe I even have to say this, but no, I’m not an item with any one of my costars, or fellow actors, or anyone famous for that matter,” his face started to splotch pink, and you sat up in your seat. What was he doing?

“Well sorry to pry-” the host started, but Tom kept talking, now faster, lips not able to keep up with his brain.

“The amount of stress all the rumors have put on me and the people I care about is insane and unfair, and nobody has taken it harder than my actual girlfriend, who is right there in the audience,” he said, and you cursed him for causing a hundred chairs to squeak as heads swiveled towards you. “It all has her constantly feeling hated and unimportant and questioning our relationship, which I can’t stand, because I love her more than anything, I do, and I hate to see her so upset when there’s just nothing I can do about people gossiping.” You hear scattered “aww”s come from around you.

“I’ve been quiet for too long about it, which I thought was the right thing to do. But I was wrong. She deserves to hear me tell the world that I am with her, and only her, and that’s not changing,” he says, finally taking a breath. Tom looks at you, eyes watery, and sighs, as the audience coos and applauds. He mouths a clear “I’m sorry” that only you see, and you feel that cold draft start to melt, letting yourself give him a small smile in return. He finishes the interview and you meet him backstage at the end.

When he sees you walking towards him, Tom picks up speed and pulls you into a hug immediately, both arms underneath yours, almost picking you up off the ground. You hate to admit it, but it feels so good to be back where you rightfully belong. You lean into his body and hug him back. He kisses your cheek and rests his face against yours. “You know how much I love you, right?”

“I know. You finally apologized.”

“I know.”

“Took you long enough.”

He pulled back and smiled at you, leaning in and kissing you softly. He cupped your face with both of his hands and wiped away a small tear that was harbored between your eyelashes.

“I’ll go on a million more talk shows and do it again if it means you’ll forgive me.”

“That’s a start,” you both giggle and he kisses you again. “Can we go home?”

“Of course, love.”

[noladyme]

La Cuervo - Chapter 2

She is used to the biker-life, having grown into a woman in the familiar embrace of SAMCRO. A bad decision and a gun-shot later, she gets whisked off to Santo Padre, and put under the protection of another club. What is supposed to be a short stint in the Mayan headquarters just north of the border to Mexico, turns into something more; when la quervo begins to develop feelings for el angel - and he seems to return them in kind...

TW: violence, blood, drug use, alcohol, smut, fluff, angst

In the spirit of "The Crown Princess of Charming", this is a story about O.C. Nina and Angel Reyes. It is obviously non-canon, as characters who have passed on on Mayans M.C. are present in it, and others have been excluded completely. Nina is written as a cis-female, but I have tried to keep her race and looks as ambigous as possible. Should you find any of this story offensive, please let me know.

2.

While templo – church, as Nina knew it – was in session, the clubhouse filled up with scantily female hangaraounds and a few men. Celebrations were in order for a successful gun-run, and Nina recognized the look on the faces of every woman there. They were all ready to leave their inhibitions at the door, and get down with an outlaw biker. She was used to Filip and the rest of them doing their best to keep anything leather-clad far away from her, and her bed; keeping their promises to Jax. From what had happened in her life recently, she was beginning to understand why, even if she’d always found it immensely annoying. But, as it was, her own bed was far away from here, and none of SAMCRO was there to play babysitter.

When the door to templo opened, it was like a race for the women to find a neck to throw their arms around. She couldn’t help but laugh to herself, and when she looked at EZ behind the bar, she saw him rolling his eyes at her. He thought it was as funny as she did. Letty was about to put her lips to a beer, when Coco nabbed it from her, and gestured for her to get out. He gave her a light peck on the forehead before she went. She waved at Nina, and left the clubhouse.

Nina settled on a chair at an empty table, and observed the scene. A brawny bald Mayan found a curly-haired beauty to give his attention; Coco planted himself on a couch, letting a pretty redhead swing her legs over his lap; and the same pattern continued among the other Mayans. An eager looking, blonde girl greeted Angel by the door to templo. She tugged at his cut, and he gave her a slight smile, avoiding her arm, as she went to put it around his waist. He looked out the corner of his eyes at Nina, who pretended not to notice.

EZ sat down next to her, after having made sure everyone who wanted one, had a beer. He began pointing out the members of the club. “You know Bishop and Taza. Gilly… Tranq… Coco you rode in with… Riz… That’s Creeper… Angel doesn’t need another introduction, obviously”. They both looked towards his brother, who was now seated at the bar; doing his best impression of a slip-and-slide, to avoid letting the blonde settle on his lap. “Yeah, he’s a character", Nina laughed. EZ nodded with a smile.

Tranq and Creeper joined them at the table; the latter carrying a bottle of tequila, and making a couple of lewd remarks about superglue. Trying to ignore the looks Angel was sending her way, while his wannabe paramour whispered something in his ear; Nina took a round of shots with the men at her table. It felt almost homely, with the smell of cigarette-smoke and music sounding over laughs and conversations. She was feeling the alcohol go to her head; but she was in a good mood, and it merely put a comfortable haze over her situation – made everything seem less serious than it was. Three shots later, they were discussing tattoos, and Tranq – Hank, as he’d reiterated to her – was examining the one Nina had on the back of her arm. “Shit, speaking of ink… I gotta finish Gilly’s back”, he said, and went to stand. “Man, how many shots have you had? You sure you wanna do that now?”, Creeper asked. “I work better with a buzz”, Tranq said; and immediately stumbled over his own feet. Creeper laughed, and helped his friend move over to his tattoo-corner. Gilly, with the curly-haired woman under his arm, went over to get settled in the chair. He gave the woman a deep kiss, before sitting down.

“You don’t have a date tonight?”, Nina asked EZ. “No, I’m, uh… I’m kind of seeing someone”. He seemed to blush. “Special enough to steer clear of these lovely ladies?”, Nina asked. “Yeah… Gabby is… special”, EZ said, his voice warm. “I just threw up in my mouth a little”. Angel had arrived at the table, a beer in each hand. “Beat it, prospect. We don’t need you anymore tonight. Go settle in at pap’s”. EZ chuckled, and got up to stand. “See you later, Nina”, he said, and left them to it. Angel looked at his brother as he went, his expression a mix of pride and love.

Nina looked at the beers in Angel’s hands. “Is one of those for me?”, she said. He held both bottles up in the air. “Nah, I just believe in a balanced diet”, he teased, before setting one of them down on the table in front of her. He sat down on the chair EZ had formerly occupied; moving it closer to her. The scent of his cologne hit her nose, and Nina had to chew her lip to keep from smiling at the delightful shivers it was sending through her body. “How are you doing, cuervo?”. Nina frowned at him. “Why do you keep calling me crow?”, she asked. “You are, aren’t you?”, he grinned. “La Cuervo from Charming. Sounds like a movie”. She took a sip of her beer, and smirked at him. “What kind of movie?”. He met her smirk with one of his own, making her heart skip a beat. “The good kind…”.

The girl Angel had seemingly dismissed was still standing by the bar. “Is that your old lady?”, she asked, and took a sip of her beer. Angel looked confused. “The blonde”. “Nah, she ain’t my girl…”, he declared. The woman in question was starring daggers at them from the bar. “Did you tell her that?”, Nina muttered. Angel shrugged. “Don’t worry about it. You settling in ok?”. “Yeah”, she replied. “Your brother moved his stuff out of the trailer to make room for me. He left a pile of books behind, though”. Angel winced. “Yeah, he does that. I’ll tell him to get rid of them for you”. His eyes widened when he saw her expression. “Unless you like that shit… Books, I mean”. He grabbed a pack of smokes from his cut-pocket, and held it out to her. She took a cigarette, and let him light it for her. “Yeah, I like to read”, she said, and took a huff. One of her hands was resting on the table, and Angel placed his own next to it; letting their fingertips brush against each other. “So, you’re one of them smart girls… Probably got an education, and everything”, he smiled, with a mischievous look in his eyes. Nina shrugged to confirm his words. “I did a couple of years in school…”, she said, and took another huff. We gotta keep your ass out of CaraCara, Jax had said, as he’d given her a wad of cash to help pay for her first semester. He’d been pissed when she dropped out. Angel settled his one knee between hers. “Tell me, what’s a smart girl doing in a place like this? Or with SOA for that matter? Doesn’t seem like the obvious choice of friends for someone with a bright future ahead of her”. “Who says it was bright?”, Nina asked. Angel didn’t seem to know how to reply. “I felt more at home with the club, than I ever did at school. It’s my place, you know? Family”. He nodded knowingly at her statement. Angel felt the same about his own club.

“I’m sorry about the helmet. Didn’t know it was special”, he finally muttered. She chewed her lips for a moment. “It’s fine. I guess I wear it as a tribute… or a fuck you. I’m not sure”. “Who’d it belong to?”, Angel asked, and took a swig of his beer. His rings made small clinks against the glass. She looked down. “Someone dead…”, she said. “Makes sense, since you called it an heirloom”. He hooked his pinky under hers, and tugged at it a bit. “I just worry about you. It looks a bit banged up. Wouldn’t want your pretty head injured on a ride”. “You don’t know me well enough to worry about me”, Nina smirked. “I’d like to…”, Angel replied with a shrug. He moved his hand to her knee, and squeezed it. It was like electricity from his hand to Nina’s groin, and she let out a short breath.

She noticed Bishop – who was deep in conversation with Taza – looking at her and Angel. He frowned for a second, before moving to walk over to them. There was a shattering of glass, as someone threw a beer at the wall; as Creeper and one of the hangarounds got into a fistfight. Bishop and Taza rushed over to pull the two men apart, and Nina took this as her que. “I’m gonna go shower. I wanna wash the road off”, she said, and handed Angel her cigarette. He sighed, and took a lungful from it, before narrowing his eyes at her; as she got up to stand. “The shower in the trailer is shit… You’re welcome to come round mine. I got good pressure”. There was no mistaking his meaning. Feeling the corner of her lips tug upwards, her eyes met his. It was like swimming in a sea of onyx – overwhelmingly sexy onyx. Nina took a deep breath, and made up her mind. “Yeah… ok”. Licking his lips, Angel got up to stand; towering over her. He hooked his pinky with hers again, and leaned down to her ear. “Let’s go”.

They managed to leave the clubhouse without too much notice. Only Coco looked up from his feast of ginger cleavage, and shook his head at Angel with a grin; as he pulled Nina through the crowd of people, with determined steps. While Nina nabbed her helmet and jacket from the trailer, Angel had rolled out his bike; and she got settled behind him. His seat was longer than the one on Coco’s bike, giving her plenty of room; but she decided to scoot as close to him as she could, anyway. She waved at Chucky, as he closed the gate to the yard behind them, and they took to the street.

Angel seemed to aim for every pothole, and Nina suspected it was to get her to hold on tighter to him. At an especially large bump in the road, it felt like they took flight for a second. Nina felt a rush go through her, and couldn’t help but crack a smile, and laugh a little, as butterflies began forming in her stomach. She felt Angel’s chest rumble, and suspected he was holding back a laugh himself. “You good back there?”, he asked, taking one hand of the handlebars, to put on her knee. “Yeah, perfect”, Nina grinned. She thought for a moment, before speaking again. “Don’t your arms get tired?”. “From what?”. “Your handlebars. They’re so high”. Angel laughed heartily. “Sometimes…”. He let go of with his other hand, and spread out his arms in the air, as they rode. Nina squealed. “Angel! No!”. She grabbed on to his cut, and hid her face against his back. “It’s ok, baby. I got you…”, Angel laughed, and put his hands back on the handlebars. “Dick!”, Nina growled, unable to stifle a grin. “Coming right up!”.

He sped up the bike, and they continued in anticipatory silence.

---

They pulled up at a modest, wooden bungalow. Angel held out his hand to help Nina get off the bike, and tilted his head to check out her butt, while she took off her helmet. He grabbed her hip as he stood up, and pulled her closer to him. “This is me”, he said, and nodded his head towards the house. “Has it got an inside?”, Nina smiled, and tugged at his cut. “Uh huh…”, Angel said, and leaned down, as if to kiss her; before pulling back, and walking towards the front door. “Wanna see it?”. “Tease”, Nina called after him. “Yeah”, Angel grinned.

He opened the door, and held it for her to step inside. The room was dimly lit, and smelled like pure Angel – cologne, beer and man. It was delicious. As she admired the collection of empty bottles on the coffee-table, she felt a pair of hands on her waist; spinning her around to bring her nose to chest with an almost hungry-looking Angel. He leaned down and brushed his nose against hers. “What about my shower?”, Nina whispered. He grabbed her helmet from her hand, and placed it on the couch. “After…”, he said, put his hand to the back of her neck; and kissed her.

Angel’s lips were even softer than she’d imagined. He was greedy in his kiss, gently devouring her lips; before demanding access to her tongue, which she gave willingly – her body on fire and wanting more. Getting up on her toes, she put her arms around his neck, and sighed into Angel’s mouth. As she pressed against him, Angel let out a slight growl. “Fuck, crow-girl… Let’s at least make it to the bed”, he said, and pushed her jacket down her shoulders, letting it drop to the floor. He looked confused for a second, at the sound of the thump it made, when it landed. Nina distracted him, by tugging at his beard. “Lead the way”, she smiled against his lips. Angel instantly shed his cut, and threw it on the couch; making it land on top of her helmet. He spun her around again, and smacked her butt; pointing towards a doorway. “Go”, he commanded.

Angel hadn’t made the bed when he left his house that morning, but Nina didn’t mind. They’d just mess it up in a minute, anyway. She didn’t know if the alcohol in her bloodstream, or just pure lust; but at the moment, all she could think about was getting herself and him as naked as possible. She toed off her shoes, while Angel removed his shirt, never breaking eye contact. Angel was built to brawl, and was well aware of how good he looked without his shirt; his smirk made that clear. After running her nails down his chest and stomach, Nina reached towards his belt, and began unbuckling it. “Nah, your turn”, Angel said, and raised her arms in the air, to pull off her tank-top. With greedy hands, he palmed her breasts over her bra, and invaded her mouth again for a long second, before pushing her to fall back on the bed; making her giggle as she landed with a bump.

He stood over her for a moment, licking his lips, and admiring her form; as she leaned back on her elbows. “They grow them well in Charming…”, he said, and crouched down to open her jeans. Lifting her bottom, Nina let Angel pull her jeans off. He snatched her socks while he was at it; and threw them somewhere behind him. A shiver went through her body, and she let out a soft oh, as Angel brushed his fingertips up her bare thighs and left a soft kiss on the inside of her knee. Suddenly, he was on top of her, and pressed his jean-clad leg between hers. He grabbed her wrists, and put them around his neck, to pull her upwards; granting him access to the clasp of her bra – which he made short work of opening. He let her fall back on the bed, and pulled the bra off her roughly. “Careful, I like that one”, Nina said. Angel threw it into a corner. “I’ll give it back later”, he said, and latched on to her right nipple; nibbling at it slightly. It was like there was a direct line of connection between her breast and her vagina; which only intensified the pleasure as Angel pressed against her core with his thigh.

Nina pulled Angels head up to let their lips meet again. She scratched her nails down his back, and let her fingers travel underneath his boxers, which were peeking up over the waistband of his jeans. She thrust her hips towards his. “Greedy girl”, Angel breathed. “Something wrong with that?”, Nina asked, and flicked her tongue over his lips. “Oh no. That’s good”, he said. He pecked at her lips, before getting up and shrugging off his jeans as quickly as possible. When he laid back down on top of her, Nina felt his warm and clearly well-endowed hardness pressing against her thigh. There was no doubt in her mind that her panties were ruined, but as it was, she couldn’t care less.

They kissed again – tongues dancing against each other wantonly. Nina hooked her leg around Angel’s hips, and he thrusted against her, letting out soft groans, as their groins pressed together. “You have a condom?”, Nina panted. Angel quickly leaned over to the bedside table, franticly searching the drawer. “Fuck!”, he growled, coming up short. Nina groaned in disappointment. Angel got off her, and laid back on the bed. He muttered another curse below his breath, before turning his head to look at her. “Look, I’m clean; I swear. But I get it if you don’t wanna do this”. She sighed deeply. Her whole body was screaming to continue; her vagina literally throbbing from want. “Shit, this is so stupid”, she said, before turning over, and straddling Angel’s hips. He looked at her cautiously. “What about you?”, he said. “Clean”, she replied, and leaned down to tug at his lower lip with her teeth. “Yeah, I figured. But…”. “On the pill. I won’t make you a daddy, don’t worry”, she smiled. Angel raised a brow at her and smirked. His hands found her bottom, and squeezed. “I don’t mind if you call me papi, though…”, he shrugged. She let out a giggle, which turned in to a yelp, as Angel smacked her butt and flipped them over.

Getting up to stand again, Angel began pulling down his boxers; letting his penis spring out. It was a mouthwatering sight, standing proudly from a well-trimmed forest of dark hair. Nina quickly got on all fours, and took a hold of her new best friend; gently tugging and stroking it. She gazed up at Angel, and kept eye-contact as she ran the tip of her tongue up the slit at the head of his cock. He let out a soft gasp, as she opened her mouth, and wrapped her lips around him. “Holy… fuck…”, he groaned. Hollowing her cheeks, Nina sucked him in deeper; relishing in his taste. He was warm, and his skin felt like velvet. A slight moan left her, as she released him with a small pop of her lips. “Again?”, she smiled, and licked her lips. “Shit, mami…”, Angel breathed, and put his hands on each side of her face; leaning down for a deep kiss, before getting up again, and pushing her head towards his groin.

Nina latched on to him again, this time cupping his balls with a gentle hand. She massaged them, and bobbed her head back and forth. Angel held one hand on the top of her head, and looked up at the ceiling, trying to control himself. The sight made Nina chuckle around his erection. “This funny to you? It’s like being sucked off by a vacuum-cleaner. A really hot, wet va… holy shit!”. He gasped loudly as Nina took him in as far as she could, and made swallowing movements. “Nina, you gotta stop, or I won’t last”.

She sat back on her heels, and smiled up at Angel. He shook his head, and grinned, while he ran a hand through his hair. Nina grabbed his free hand, for him to join her on the bed. She crawled backwards, and Angel leaned down to kiss a trail up the inside of her leg. He hooked his fingers into the sides of her panties, and made quick work of removing them. Placing a hand on each of her knees, he spread her legs; and with a smirk, he dove down between them. His flattened tongue enveloped her lower lips, and he suckled at her clit; making her cry out from the sensation. Two of his fingers entered her, and Angel scissored them; pressing against her front wall.

Nina grabbed a hold of his head, and pulled him up to face her. “Just… please!”, she mewled, and grabbed for his penis. “I gotta get you ready, though”, Angel chuckled, and thrust his fingers upwards. “Fuck it. I’m ready”, Nina pleaded. With a grin, Angel removed his fingers, and settled between her legs. He removed her hand from his cock, took a hold of it himself, and looked down. He stroked himself a few times, and ran the head up and down her folds. Nina whimpered, and tried to move against him, to get him inside her. “Yeah?”, Angel asked, his eyes looking for her go-ahead. Nina nodded, and suddenly he entered her.

The stretch was perfect. Angel made a loud groan, and buried his face in the crook of her neck. “Fuck, that’s tight…”, he gasped, and grabbed her thigh hard; for sure leaving marks. He sucked and nibbled at her pulse point, and Nina found it hard to keep her moans stifled. “It’s ok. You can be as loud as you want, mami”. “Don’t stop…”, Nina whimpered. For a good while, they moved together like this; couldn’t get close enough to each other. It was soft and sweet, but glancing in to each other’s eyes, it was obvious that they both craved something else at the moment. Angel lifted Nina’s legs, so her knees rested over his shoulders; making him brush against her sweet spot, at each thrust. Nina cried out when she felt her muscles begin to clench around him. Trying to leave her own mark on Angel, she dug her nails into his biceps. He thrusted harder into her, and put his thumb to her clit; stroking it in circles. “Angel…”, Nina whimpered. “I’m gonna… fuck!”. “Yeah, you are”, Angel said, and sped up his movements. He thrusted hard in to her, and added pressure against her clit; and soon, white, hot fire spread throughout Nina’s body. She arched her back, and cried out in ecstasy as she came.

Angel smiled down at her, and moved the hair out of her face, before releasing her legs, and letting them drop down to the bed. He leaned in and pressed his lips to hers, once again making her feel like he was literally devouring her very soul with his kiss. “Turn around”, he demanded, and pulled out of her. Nina turned onto her stomach, and got on all fours. Angel lined himself up, and entered her with a swift movement of his hips. Holding on to her hips, Angel pistoned in to Nina with determined thrusts. The noises in the room were obscene at this point; slick moving against slick, and skin hitting skin. Nina was whimpering, and Angel was panting like a freight-train, as he chased his own high. Trying to help him, Nina spent the last of her energy clenching her muscles hard around him; internally thanking the kegel-gods. Angel let out a guttural moan, and thrusted fast a few more times, before pulling out, and spilling himself on her back.

Nina collapsed on the bed, sated and exhausted. Angel grabbed his shirt of the floor, and used it to wipe her off. “Sorry…”, he muttered; his expression one of an embarrassed schoolboy. “I forgot you’re on the pill”. “It’s ok”, Nina yawned. “Sorry…”, she said, and they chuckled at each other. Angel scratched his head. “If you wanna take that shower now, the bathroom’s through there”, he said, and gestured towards a door. Nina gingerly got off the bed, and moved towards where he’d pointed. There was an awkward silence in the room, before Angel grabbed her wrist, and pulled her against him, and kissed her gently.

“That was… nice”, he said. “Yeah…”, Nina agreed, and went to take her long anticipated shower.

---

Proclaiming that he was beat, Angel suggested that he wait until the next day to take Nina back to the scrap yard. She suspected that he was fishing for round two in the morning; but as she wasn’t against that idea – and liked the thought of sleeping in an actual bed, in a house instead of a hard cot in a trailer – she agreed to his suggestion.

She slept soundly, with no nightmares for the first time in weeks, only waking at the sound of Angels phone buzzing. Opening her eyes, she saw that his arm was draped over her, and his hand was holding on to her breast. He squeezed it for a moment, and a smile ghosted his face, before he squinted his eyes open, and met hers. His smile widened, but turned in to a frown, when his phone buzzed again. He reached over her body, to grab it from his jeans-pocket. He picked up the call, and laid back on the bed. “Yeah… Shit, bro. What time is it…?”. He looked at Nina for a second. “Yeah, she’s here… Fuck. Ok, I’m on my way”. Angel sat up on the bed, and ran a hand down his face. “We need to go”, he said. Nina sat up, and reached for her clothes. “Something wrong?”, she asked. “I don’t know”, Angel replied, and got off the bed to find some clothes to wear. Nina tried not to admire the view of his naked form too much; but ultimately had to distract herself, by going in search of her panties.

In the living room, after they were dressed, Angel picked up Nina’s jacket from the floor. “What do you keep in this thing? Rocks?”, he chuckled, as he handed it to her. “My inhaler and my gun”, Nina replied, deadpan. Angel shook his head in disbelief, and went to get his cut. Revealing her helmet, he picked it up gingerly, and handed it to her. When she took it, he leaned down, and gave her a short kiss. His beard tickled her skin deliciously, and Nina felt her cheeks burning slightly; as the awkwardness of the situation waned.

A few minutes later, they were on their way back to the scrap yard.

---

[shyneanon]

I don't know what type of prompts you're looking for, but this idea has been on my mind for a while: swap MfSans and Princess. Where Sans is the one who's sick of mafia life and wants to leave, but his bro won't let him. On top of that, this flirty human woman won't leave him alone, even though he's told her a hundred times his bro will kill her if he finds her hitting on Sans.

Ahhhh an AU of my AU fanfic, that sounds so fun! I’ve been wanting to write this but was having a hard time thinking of the details, but I finally have something done. They’re not completely swapped in personalities or anything, mostly just in their roles in the story, but I hope you enjoy it.

---

Sans didn’t like going for walks.

But it was something Paps insisted on. Several times he’d tried shortcutting to cheat, but Paps always caught him. He was smart. So eventually Sans had given up.

Instead, he would head for the park on evenings when he wasn’t on the job (so to speak), sit there awhile, and then come back. Paps always thought he’d been walking all that time. Sometimes he even got nice cream, and Paps was none the wiser.

As usual, he found a park bench— one that he took up most of the room of— and sat. It was nice to be alone with his thoughts for a while. The park was a lot emptier and quieter at night. No kids. Most people at home with their families.

Their peace-loving, law-abiding families.

Sans did more thinking than most people realized. He had a lot of thoughts and opinions on things, he just… wasn’t very good at expressing them. He didn’t like talking— not even with his brother. Sometimes Paps didn’t really listen to him. That was particularly the case with Sans’ suggestions about how they could get out of the mob. He’d hatched several plans, but Paps told him they were too risky. It was best, he said, that they stay where they had money and power and could live comfortably.

Sans didn’t find the mob life particularly comfortable.

Quite the opposite— it felt stifling. And Paps wasn’t helping. He tried to stop Sans from talking to women— or, fun women, at least— because he had his own idea of what kind of girls Sans should be talking to. Girls in the mob, who were raised to be boring and submissive, and to lie through their teeth to avoid bothering their boyfriends. Being with someone who’d basically been trained like a dog to only do what would make him happy would just make him feel like trash.

Besides, if he married some mob boss’s girl, then there would only be more incentive for them to stay. And he didn’t want incentive to stay.

“Sans?”

Oh shit.

Sans would recognize that voice anywhere. It was so… silky. He looked over and sure enough, there you were, a shopping bag in your hand. Probably having bought a dress for one of those fancy parties folks in the mob loved so much.

Sans hated you.

Well, he hated you because he liked you. You were exactly the kind of girl he didn’t want, and yet at the same time, you were everything he wanted in one… really sexy package.

Talking to you was a really bad idea. So he just tipped the brim of his hat slightly, looking away in an attempt to look uninterested. “Heya, doll.”

Much to his dismay, you sat next to him on the bench and smiled. The way you moved drew attention to your curves…. Were you doing it on purpose?

“It’s good to see you,” you told him. A playful smile. “I was feeling bonely.”

Sans tried— and failed— to stop himself from laughing a bit. Fuck, you were funny too….

“So?” You batted your lashes-- it was clearly playful, but it still made his soul flutter slightly, and he inwardly cursed himself for it. “How are you?”

You were smirking. He was pretty sure you reveled in driving him insane.

“Not as good now that you’re here,” he returned, and you snickered. Why was it cute?

“Aww,” you said. “I’m hurt.”

Sans didn’t reply, just forced himself to look away, despite how much he enjoyed looking at you.

“Hey.”

He turned just a little, raising a brow. You had a massive grin on your face.

“Knock knock.”

He blinked and did his best not to look alarmed. Goddammit, no.

Not a knock knock joke.

“You’re supposed to say ‘Who’s there,’” you teased.

Fine. He would indulge you. The joke probably wouldn’t be that funny anyway. “Who’s there?”

“Nana.”

“Nana who?”

“Nana your business.”

Before he could even try to stop himself he snorted loudly, slapping his knee a little. “That was fuckin’ stupid, doll.”

“That’s why it’s funny.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Aw, c’mon. You agree with me. Admit it.”

Your tone was so smug. Dammit, he was terrible at pretending he didn’t like you, wasn’t he?

“Besides, yours are dumber.” You nudged him. “C’mon, tell me one. You always have some.”

His face grew warm. He wasn’t used to people wanting to hear his jokes. Sure, making people groan was half the fun, but… making you laugh…

After an attempt at a nonchalant shrug, he said, “Knock knock.”

“Who’s there?”

“Cash.”

“Cash who?”

“Nah thanks, I prefer walnuts.”

You snorted and gave a giggle. Sans didn’t notice his smile soften. What he would give to make you laugh like that more often….

If only you weren’t in the mob.

He was lost enough in thought that he didn’t notice when you began to slip into his lap, only when you were about halfway in it. It wasn’t inherently sexual, but Sans’ mind was the type to go into the gutter easily, and… His face grew hot, and you raised a brow.

“Oh my, someone gets turned on a bit easily, huh?”

His face only got hotter. “S’just a blush,” he protested.

You clearly didn’t believe him, but you shrugged, still smiling. “Oh, alright. My mistake.”

“Yeah,” he said, furious that his face was still warm. “Yer mistake--”

“I’m sure you won’t mind if I do this then.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck and pressed your body against his, giving him a wink, and he could feel himself growing warm… somewhere else.

“Y’know my brother wouldn’ be happy if he saw you here like this.” He kept his own hands from touching you, holding them out so that if Paps did suddenly show up for no discernible reason, he would see that Sans was clearly not reciprocating.

“Well too bad for him.” You leaned up, getting closer. “You can make your own decisions.” With a slight purr in your voice, you added, “You’re a big boy.”

You were close enough now that Sans could hear you even when you spoke softly.

“I’m sure there’s all kinds of things a big boy like you could do to a tiny girl like me….”

Why did everything about you… your voice, your body, your eyes… have to appeal so much to his most base instincts…?

And why’d you have to be so… wonderful?

“Just one kiss?” you whispered.

Sans didn’t protest when you pressed your soft, perfect lips against his teeth. In fact, he wrapped both arms around you, returning the affection. Your hands cupped his face and the touch sent shocks of electricity through him. He growled, his more aggressive instincts beginning to surface.

“Baby,” he purred, and you kissed him again, with more fervor this time. His hands went to your waist, and his mind began to slip into an incredibly racy fantasy. “Baby, I’m gonna…”

“You’re gonna what?” you asked, clearly excited.

His mind indulged itself in some very vivid imagery and he thought of a dirty response. He let out a predatory growl again, opening his eyes so he could make eye contact…

And then he realized what he was doing. He paused.

When he didn’t respond, you breathed, “What are you going to do to me, Sans?” and the primal part of him immediately started to dive back into its very explicit daydream, but the logical part of his mind managed to reel the rest of him in.

“I’m gonna… move ya back onto the bench,” he answered lamely, gently pushing you off his lap. Your flushed face (fuck, it was hot) quickly started to return to its usual color and you blinked, looking confused. Still, you complied, and to his surprise, looked away.

“Sorry,” you said. He wanted to tell you that yes, you should be, but instead it took all of his energy not to so much as put a hand on your shoulder. As much as he didn’t want to, he did like you.

Why did he have to like you?

“I, uh… jus’ gotta go, s’all,” he said, standing up. He turned away and tipped the brim of his hat. “See ya, dollface.”

“Actually…”

He looked back over, a brow raised in suspicion, to see that your more mischievous smile had returned. Oh, what now?

“It’s getting dark,” you told him, getting up and picking up your shopping bag. “And I think that, being the small and helpless little lady I am… I could use an escort home?”

Sans felt the corner of his mouth quirk up. “Yeah? Worried for your safety?”

“Of course. The city’s big, and full of… unsavory characters.” You put a hand over your heart in mock fear. “One of them could get me, and… do things to me.” Another wink, and a sly smile. Sans struggled not to let himself slip into more fantasies. Thankfully, your mock concern was funny enough to keep him more or less grounded.

“Well,” he said, playing along with a shrug. “We can’t have that. I s’pose it would only be gentlemanly of me to take you home.”

“Yes, it would. And we both know you’re quite the gentleman.”

“Always.” His grin had returned-- in fact, he could swear he was grinning even more than usual-- and he held out his arm. “Madame?”

You locked arms with him, beaming. “Merci,” you said, and he laughed. All thoughts of avoiding you were ignored.

He was too busy having fun to care.

[1-800-roflmao]

Wash Day Delight Pt. 4

Rating:  General Audiences

WARNINGS:  None

Fandom:  Undertale (Video Game)

Relationships:  Papyrus (Undertale)/Reader, Papyrus (Undertale) & Reader,  Papyrus (Underfell) & Reader, Papyrus (FSG) & Reader, Papyrus (Swapfell) & Reader

Characters:  Papyrus (Undertale), Reader, Edge (UF Pap), and Mentions of Other AU Skeletons

Additional Tags:  Reader Is Not Frisk (Undertale), Reader Is Not Chara (Undertale), reader is poc, Reader has curly hair,  Undertale Monsters on the Surface, Friendship, Wholesome, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, I'm Bad At Summaries, Not Beta Read, Romance if you squint, Subtext, Let Papyrus be Sassy, Edge Is The Unwilling Dad Friend, Idiots in Love, Fluff and Humor, Slice of Life, Teasing Edge Is Fun, Papy is Best Boi

*Split this chapter into two. Will be posting both today. Morning thoughts and Papy has a great idea! Tried avoiding using y/n as much as I could, but had to this chapter.

PREVIOUS || FIRST || NEXT

She would say morning came too quickly, but in all honesty, this was technically her second time waking up that morning.  Somehow, in spite of the tireless workout she had been put through the night before, she had woken up at the usual time right before her alarm--that was NOT set cause she turned that off with plans to sleep in today--would have gone off.  She’d spared a single, groggy glance at her phone’s clock.  The notifications lining the screen not even registering in her mind.  No, she’d get her well earned sleep in had been and without further adieu, she had put the phone back down, rolled over, and snuggled back in for another few hours of sleep.  

    That had been earlier.  Now, she blinked awake as light from the mid-morning sun sneaked through the slim openings of the curtains just behind her bed.  Blearily, her eyes followed the rays path across her form, her bed, and eventually over the floor where it seemed to highlight her shed clothes along with the open bathroom.  Right… she had forgotten to brush her teeth in her haste to sleep.  Rolling her tongue and opening and closing her mouth, she winced as she felt her cheek move against the now very cold wet spot on her pillow.  Well, at least that second round of sleep was apparently heavy and content.  

“Eugth…” Not that it made waking up in your drool anymore pleasant.  Trying to sit up resulted in even more groans as her muscles protested.  Yup, there were those core muscles that had been oddly silent yesterday acting up today.  Her arm she had tried to push up on had not been too much trouble, but her shoulder had twinged and she had gone back down.  She had managed to at least roll on her back and away from the drool pool though.  Positives.  Focus on the positives.  For a few moments, she just let herself completely relax into the mattress and pillows, just breathing--in and out, slow and even, again and again until all her tension dispersed. 

“They really did me in,” she mumbled as she began to roll her wrists, “But I’ve got too much to get done to be lyin’ around here all day feelin’ miserable.”  Too much considering her now very awake mind realized she had forgotten to wrap her hair, but thankfully she had splurged on satin sheets and pillowcases, so it shouldn’t be too bad.  Maybe it was a blessing in disguise, she didn’t get her wrap sweaty… “Still gonna wash it.”  By now, she had started stretching and working her shoulders with careful, slow rolls and reaches.  The more she moves, the more she’ll loosen up and actually be able to function.  She just couldn’t overdue it.

As she moved onto her legs, she couldn’t stifle a little moan of discomfort as she lifted one limb at time to carefully draw her knee in towards her stomach before extending again.  It took time, but eventually she was able to push herself up into a sitting position.  Muscles in her back, abdomen, and surprising what felt like her butt that she hadn’t been aware of protested, but a few more deep breathes calmed them.  Seeing her phone laying on the sheets near her, she guessed earlier that morning she hadn’t bothered to put the phone back where it went exactly, but current her was very thankful for her sleepy self’s carelessness.

Picking up the device, she decided to take a moment to rest before continuing her war against her body.  Besides, she could remember that she had messages to reply to.  Tapping the screen, she input her pattern and tapped on the messages app.  The first one she opened was Coffee’s.  “Oooh,” she cooed as she looked over the drawing once again with fresh eyes.  Last night, she remembered thinking the hairstyle was cute, but now she could see the little details he included, like his choice of including a custom undercut design.  Could her barber achieve that?  She’d have to ask, but for now.

(to JavaBoi)

Flooffie:  Good morning! 

Flooffie:  Sorry about not replying last night

Flooffie:  This hairstyle is so cute

Flooffie:  And the undercut design is SICK!

Flooffie:  In a good way 

Flooffie:  I’d love to wear it, but I’ll have to check in with my barber about the undercut.

She waited a moment to see if he’d answer, but no little dots popped up so she guessed he was possibly still sleeping or he was busy.  Most likely the former.  Leaving that conversation, she sent a quick message to her barber asking how complicated a design he would be willing to do on an undercut.  She hadn’t expected an answer, but no sooner had she went to click the back button, his answer popped up.  His answer surmised that he had done more complicated pieces, but it all depends on the design.  “Makes sense…” she mumbled before forwarding the doodle to him.   It took him a moment longer to reply this time, but his answer had her beaming: “Sure, just get a better reference.  Bigger too.” 

(to JavaBoi)

Flooffie:  I feel like I’m spamming you.  Sorry!

Flooffie: But I got with my barber and he said he could do it

Flooffie:  Just he needs a better ref

Flooffie:  Could you draw it bigger?  

Flooffie:  I’ll treat you!

        She included some pleading and heart emojis for good measure, even though she was sure he wouldn’t mind one bit.  Moving on, she opened up a certain someone’s convo, eager to see how he reacted to her last text.  A little laugh bubbled past her smile as she saw his reply, full of exclamation marks and a little pause between two of the replies.

(11:33 PM) Papaya:  ….

(11:40 PM) Papaya:  !!!!!!!

Papaya:  TOUCHE! ALTHOUGH I HAD TO GOOGLE WHAT YOU HAD MEANT

Papaya:  MY SKILLS AT PICKING UP THESE IDIOMS IS IMPROVING

Papaya:  WHO CAME UP WITH THESE THINGS?  WHY? WHY NOT JUST SAY WHAT YOU MEAN?!

(11:45 PM) Papaya:  YOUR LACK OF RESPONSE MUST MEAN YOU HAVE FINALLY GONE TO  BED

Papaya:  GOOD

(12:01 AM) Papaya:  SWEET DREAMS, (Y/N)

    Her amusement at how Papyrus could continue a conversation with no one there was overshadowed by the warmth the last text brought.  It was such a simple little thing.  It’s not like he had even called her a pet name, but it still had her flushing and turning her face away from the phone like that would somehow ease the heat.  Maybe it was because she could see the timestamp and knew he had taken the time to pick up the phone again after setting it down for a while just to send that message.  Was it narcissistic to think she was his last thought before he fell asleep?  “It’s too early to be this flustered!” she whined, the fingers of her free hand playing with ends of one of her braids, “All over a text that might not have any deeper meaning…”     

    After her little grumble, she did her best to ignore the sting the words brought.  One more deep breath, she turned back to her phone and the texts, allowing a small smile.  There was no sense in making herself miserable.  It was still a dear friend thinking of her after all.  

    (to Papaya)

Flooffie:  Morning Papi!  Hope you had sweet dreams as well

        Before she could start her next message, she saw those little dots pop up and chuckled.  Of Course he was up already.  

Papaya:   GOOD MORNING!

Papaya:   I DO NOT REMEMBER MY DREAMS, BUT I’M SURE THEY WERE GREAT!

Flooffie:  Just like you, eh?

Papaya:   OFCOURSE!

Papaya:   UM… HOW ARE YOU FEELING THIS MORNING?

Papaya:   NOT TOO SORE I HOPE

    She snorted at that before replying.

Floofie:   Like I got hit by a 18 wheeler in the fast lane and somehow survived to regret it.

Papaya:   ….

Papaya:   APOLOGIES

Papaya:   BUT ARE YOU COMPARING YOUR PAIN TO GETTING HIT BY A SEMI?!

        She could just feel his panic and knew he would start fretting through the text.  She felt just a little guilty laughing at his reaction.  Thankfully, it wasn’t too difficult to calm him down and assure him she was simply exaggerating.  No, he didn’t need to take her to the hospital.  No, he had not broken her.  At Least as far as she knew he hadn’t.  

Throughout, she had slowly worked her way to the edge of the bed and now sat with her legs hanging off.  In between texts with Papyrus, he opened a few of the others.  One was Edge checking in with a reminder that she shouldn’t over exert herself.  She went to send a little thumbs up, but paused and instead juggled between two responses.  Which would mess with him more?  Biting her bottom lip, she finally settled on one and quickly sent it:  “Yes, Daddy~”.  Knowing Edge, he was up, but wouldn’t look at the message until he had a moment, so she closed the convo.  She could see the damage later.

More puns and jokes which she graced with appropriate responses: groans at the especially bad ones and chuckles at the ones that were actually clever.  She of course made her approval known with quick little texts and gifs; the bad ones received the same treatment.  None of it was mean and to tell the truth, it only fanned the flames for these gremlins as she had learned.  They seemed determined to dig up the worst puns they could manage.  By the time, she finished replying, she had made it to the bathroom and was finally taking care of her dental hygiene.  

Her phone now dinged instead of buzzing with each new text.  Most of which were from Papyrus she assumed.  Toothbrush in her mouth, she picked up her phone and opened the texting app again as she resumed brushing with her other hand.  She had been correct.  A line of texts from her friend popped up on the screen and they ranged from bringing up his question about idioms from last night to checking in that she was actually taking the time to rest.  She thanked the stars that her phone wasn’t on the larger side as it allowed her to hold and type with one hand.  

Flooffie:  Decided to make today wash day since people are INSISTING I rest.  Was due for one anyway.

Papaya:   WASH DAY?  YOU HAVE A DAY DEDICATED TO WASHING?

Papaya:   I THOUGHT HUMANS PRUNE IF THEY ARE IN WATER TOO LONG?

She let him get out all his ponderings and ramblings, which took a good minute, before she finally jumped in.  Although she’d love to convince him it was a secret, sacred holiday and ritual that humans have to partake in a few days a year for… reasons, she fought down her inner prankster and cursed Cash for his influence on her.  

Flooffie:  It’s nothing elaborate… kinda?

Flooffie:  It’s just that people like me tend to have a lot of hair and it takes time to properly care for it.

Flooffie:  So, we make a day of it.  Chill and relax, pamper ourselves, etc

She was a bit surprised he hadn’t replied immediately and had actually finished with her dental routine by the time he finally texted back.  

Papaya:  SO IT IS A DAY DEDICATED TO YOUR HAIR?!

Oh, she hadn’t seen this much enthusiasm from him for her hair in a good bit.  As his texts came through, she felt touched he wanted to learn more and she was happy to inform him, best she could over text anyway.  There was another long pause in between his text.  Just long enough for her to reach for her shower handle as she decided to finally take a shower and get started on her day.  Her phone dinged and Papyrus changed all her plans.

Papaya:  WHY DON’T YOU HAVE YOUR WASH DAY AT OUR HOUSE?!!

[lover-of-skellies]

For the horror fic promt how about a yandere swap papyrus?

This is a bit longer than anticipated, but eh =) hope ya like it anyway

-

You never meant for things to be this way. You'd been arguing with your parents and decided some time away from them would be best, so what better place to stay than with your two best friends, Sans and Papyrus. Sans was always cheerful and lively, and you often found yourself getting roped into helping him with the housework, and he even sometimes allowed you to help him prepare dinner, too.

Although chores weren't something you enjoyed in the slightest, you couldn't say no. Not when he looked at you with those wide, expectant sockets of his. Something about that face was cute, and you were inclined to believe that Sans was well aware of that, because he'd begun making the exact same face whenever you were hesitant to do a particular chore or run a particular errand. No matter how many times he did it, you still couldn't say no.

Papyrus, on the other hand... was a bit different. For a while, he was his laidback, casual self. Perfectly timed yet terrible puns were his speciality, and while Sans responded to them by rolling his eye lights or giving his brother a very unimpressed, almost disgusted stare, you'd almost always found the jokes pretty amusing. You would turn away from Papyrus and try to hide your smile and muffle your soft laughter, doing your very best to bite back whatever puns you could've made as a comeback of sorts.

There was no doubt in your mind that Papyrus knew you liked his jokes. He'd raise a single brow bone and grin at you, playfully winking. That look oftentimes caused a soft blush to rise to your cheeks and left you without words. He was attractive. Very attractive, and you weren't afraid to admit that.

Recently though, Papyrus had been pretty distant. Not just with you, but also with Sans. This obviously concerned Sans greatly, and he'd asked you to help him try to figure out what was going on with Pap, and why he was suddenly acting strange. As expected, Papyrus didn't feel like talking, merely ignoring the both of you as you tried to talk to him through his bedroom door. Dinner had become significantly quieter; Papyrus sat with you and Sans to eat, but then, he'd vanish again, without barely saying a word.

As you sat at the dinner table tonight, however, something felt... different. Papyrus was very gradually starting to talk more, which caused a small amount of hope and relief to blossom in your soul. As you made conversation and idly picked at your food, you happened to glance upward, very briefly locking gazes with the taller brother. Despite the eye contact lasting no longer than a fraction of a second, there was an intensity in his sockets that caused all the little hairs on the back of your neck to stand on end. It was unsettling, and you couldn't explain why. You decided to ignore it; it was probably nothing, after all.

As you consumed more of your food and drink, your eyelids started to feel heavy, and sitting upright became an increasingly difficult task. You were... sleepy. So very sleepy.

Noticing the exhaustion that was starting to overtake you, Sans gave you a questioning look and tilted his head, "HUMAN? ARE YOU FEELING ALRIGHT?... YOU DON'T LOOK TOO GOOD." Offering him a small smile, you hummed, "Yeah, I'll be alright. I'm just tired, that's all." He seemed hesitant to accept your words and frowned, "OH. IN THAT CASE, YOU SHOULD GET OFF TO BED, THEN. YOU NEED REST IN ORDER TO FEEL BETTER, AFTER ALL." You lifted a hand, rubbing your eyes and sighing, "I know... Didn't you still want me on dish duty tonight though? I can't just ditch you if you still want my help, Sans."

The shorter skeleton simply waved off your words and shook his head, "IT'S ALRIGHT, BESTEST FRIEND. IF YOU'RE TIRED, I DON'T MIND DOING THEM. JUST GO REST, OK?" You offered him another small smile, "Thanks Sans... you're the best, y'know that?" You rose from your seat, the sudden movement causing a wave of pain to pulse through your head. You tightly clutched the edge of the table with one hand while the other flew to your head, pressing your palm to one of your temples as you winced. What the...? A migraine? Since when did you?...

Sans was immediately on his feet as well, his sockets wide with concern as he took a small step toward you, his arms outstretched, "HUMAN, WHAT'S WRONG? YOU REALLY DON'T LOOK WELL NOW. HERE, YOU CAN HOLD ONTO ME IF YOU WANT. THAT WAY I CAN ESCORT YOU TO YOUR ROOM WITHOUT YOU FALLING." You wordlessly reached out to take one of his hands, taking a single step toward him before you felt a hand on your shoulder.

Looking up, you found Papyrus looking down at you, a faint smile teasing at his teeth as he addressed his younger brother, "It might not be good for them walk that far on their own, bro. How about I use a shortcut and take 'em there instead? It'll be easier that way." Although Sans looked as though he wanted to argue what Papyrus had said, he shrugged, sighing softly and frowning, "OK, BROTHER... AS LONG AS THEY DON'T FALL AND GET HURT OR ANYTHING, THEN THAT IS ALRIGHT WITH ME."

Feeling your strength rapidly fading, you leaned back against Papyrus, unable to keep your eyes open anymore. The last thing you felt before passing out was Papyrus lifting you up into his arms. You'd breathed in what seemed to be a mix of scents, consisting of cigarette smoke, honey, and some odd metal twang, and then the world went black.

~~~

When you finally came to, you groaned softly, slowly cracking your eyes open to look around. This wasn't your room, and this most certainly wasn't your bed that you were currently lying in. This wasn't Sans or Papyrus' room, either. In fact, you'd never actually seen this place before. You slowly sat up, confusion tugging at your mind at what sounded like metal against wood. Your questions were answered as you looked down, noticing the handcuffs that were keeping you bound to the bed, and you furrowed your brows, testing the strength of the cuffs by giving a few more experimental tugs. And then the door opened, light flooding into the room.

Your movement came to a halt as you looked up to see Papyrus cross the threshold, entering the room and carelessly kicking the door shut behind himself. In his hands was a bag, and judging by the smell that seemed to flood your senses, the bag contained food. The lanky skeleton smiled at you, slipping off his shoes and sitting on the edge of the bed, "Well good morning, angel. I was wondering when you'd wake up." You raised an eyebrow, "Pap?... What's going on? Where are we?" Plopping the bag of food down beside you, he shrugged, nonchalantly dragging his eye lights up and down your frame, "Oh, right. I forgot, you don't know yet. This is where we'll be starting our new life together, honey."

You stared at him, visibly confused, "Wait a minute, what? 'Starting our new life together'? What's that supposed to mean?" Papyrus hummed, leaning back onto his elbows as he watched you, "Exactly what you think it does. You're gonna stay here with me. From now on, it'll be just the two of us. No more of your parents, no more Sans, no more of those nosey little pests you called friends. Just us. You and me," he paused, reaching out to rest a hand on your thigh, "And soon enough, our children."

Your eyes widened and you began to squirm, shaking your head, "Pap, stoppit. Whatever kinda joke this is, it's not funny. You need to let me go, right now." He only sighed softly, vaguely disappointed, "That's not gonna happen... I know you're confused right now, maybe even a little scared, but if you give it time, I promise you'll be happy here." Your anxiety spiked as he moved closer to you, cupping your face with a boney hand as he continued, "I love you... so much more than anyone else ever could. I can't lose you, sweetheart... you're mine. I'm all the friend you'll ever need, and I'm the only one who can truly make you happy."

You leaned back away from his touch and frowned, fear flickering in your eyes, "Oh my god... please tell me you don't seriously think all that." He hummed, his sockets half lidded as he drawled, "I do. Why?... Is it too weird? I found this place, and I made it perfect. I made it the best I could, for you. And your nosey friends? Even though they tried to get between us and keep us apart, I let them go. I... I know you'd be upset if they got hurt, so I just talked to them and made sure they knew not to bother us again. Sans. I left Sans, my own brother, behind. I left everything behind, and I did it for you."

Your breath hitched and you tried to scoot away from him, shaking your head, "You're... You're out of your mind. People will come looking for me, just you wait." He smiled at you, making your blood run cold, "Honey... did you think I didn't plan ahead? I know they will, which is why I'll have to kill them when they do." You opened your mouth, floundering for the right words to say, but were abrupty cut off as he pressed his teeth to your lips, an arm snaking around you to hold the back of your head in place. You let out a muffled scream, and without thinking, you raised a hand, striking him as hard as you could.

Both of you froze, and then he pulled back, lifting a hand to touch his face and appearing stunned. Your cheeks burned bright red as you watched him with wide eyes, a single tear running down your face. Refocusing his attention to you again, his eye lights shifted into heart shapes and he chuckled lowly, leaning closer to trail the tip of his orange, brightly glowing ecto tongue up your cheek and tasting your tears. You whimpered, tightly closing your eyes to avoid looking at him, and he hummed, "Your skin is so soft, and your tears... I've never tasted anything like them before. Give me more, honey. I need more... please." You shook your head and peeked at him, having felt the bed shift. He tilted your head to the side, burying his face in the crook of your neck and inhaling deeply, groaning at your scent. You began to tremble, letting out a yelp as he sharply nipped at your skin, drawing a small amount of blood. He seemed to bask in the combination of your scent and the taste of your blood, only being brought back to reality when you spoke, "Papyrus, listen to me. I don't want this. I don't want you, not this way. I don't love you, and I don't wanna stay here. I wanna go home. Please. If you let me go, I won't tell anyone and we can pretend this never happened, ok? I promise. You just have to let me go though."

The skeleton hummed, his voice slightly muffled, "I'm sorry, sweetheart... I just can't do that. There's too many people out there that could hurt you, and too many others that want you for themselves. As long as you're here with me, you're safe." Understanding now that you wouldn't be able to talk reason into him, you began to thrash wildly, pulling as hard as you could against the handcuffs. You let out a single scream, and found his magic abruptly silencing you.

He pressed a finger over your lips, softly shushing you, "Shhh... don't worry, honey, it'll be ok. Papyrus is here to protect you. I'll do whatever it takes to keep you safe, 'cause that's how much I love you."

[agapaic]

tianshan drabble. 💞 on behalf of an anonymous donation to the BLMUK organisation, this was created (with permission) for Eylül @eed752. if you would like to donate to an organisation supporting black lives in return for a drabble, please see here for more information. 🌸

tags: chef!guan shan, media exec! he tian, reality TV. tw: non-consensual kissing

///

‘I don’t need your fuckin’ help,’ Guan Shan says, teeth gritted. ‘I didn’t ask for it.’

On the other side of the resaurant’s foyer, Zhengxi lowers the camera. He’s familiar with Guan Shan’s belligerence, and he knows when to stop rolling without waiting for anyone’s call. He turns to He Tian, who’s already making his way over to Guan Shan while he rolls up the cuffs on his shirt sleeves. His smile is tight.

‘Do you want to say that off camera, hm?’ he says quietly, when he’s only a few feet away. There’s something sharp beneath his words that makes Guan Shan’s spine straighten. ‘Stop being a prima donna because you don’t want to follow my suggestions. You and I both know you couldn’t do this without the show.’

Guan Shan looks away. This. His father’s old restaurant had been an empty husk until he bought it, the inside like walking into a warzone. There was graffitti on the walls, smashed crockery covering the floor, burst pipes in the bathrooms and kitchen, some scene from an apocalypse movie. 

The PAP had done nothing with it since they seized the property fifteen years ago; when it came to auction, Guan Shan bought it without thinking, emptying the savings he’d been stockpiling from his job as a waiter. He’d planned to give half to his mom and pay off her mortgage.

He doesn’t have the money to rennovate now, or to repair. He barely has the strength not to revisit the memory of the raid each time he walks through the restaurant doors, bile burning his throat, nausea rolling through him as if he’s at sea. Sometimes, it feels like it, the earth unsteady beneath his feet, his surroundings beginning to spin, a high-pitched ringing starting to keen in his ears—

‘Hey,’ He Tian says, brows drawn in. ‘Hey, did you hear me?’

Guan Shan mumbles something, and his expression must throw He Tian enough because he calls out for a break in the shooting. The crew lower their cameras and mic booms—Take five! someone shouts—and a caterers rolls out a trolley with cans of soft drinks and snacks. 

Guan Shan doesn’t go to it; nor does he collapse into the fold-up chair that has his name printed across the back. Instead, He Tian grips him by the elbow and steers him, not ungently, out of the main restaurant and towards the kitchen.

It’s a building site still, most everything covered in sheets of plastic and a dusty layer of concrete residue. They’ll start filming this part of the show in a couple of weeks, and use a demo kitchen for now while they work on the recipes for the menu. It’s the nature of the show—Overhaul, it’s called, building someone’s business quite literally from the ground up. 

You couldn’t do this without the show, He Tian had said. He’s right. Guan Shan couldn’t have afforded anything on the scale that He Tian is giving him. That’s the whole point of this fucking venture. The furniture, the esteemed clientelle, a Shanghai-based HR agency to find the staff. Some chef from SHIC will help him with the menu, and his contract promises the review of a Black Pearl critic who will visit a year after opening. The restaurant will be a success, by default of He Tian’s purview. He’ll allow nothing else to damage his name.

When the kitchen doors swing to a close behind them, He Tian releases Guan Shan and leans against an old counter with his arms folded. He’s frowning. In here, with the dust and the absence of windows, Guan Shan finds it difficult to breathe. He rubs at his chest, easing a pressure that refuses to dissipate. He’s trying to imagine himself running this place one day, cooking in here, where his father used to—and he fails. 

‘You asked for my help,’ says He Tian, slowly. ‘You went to Jian Yi, who came to me. You signed the contract. You agreed to this.’

‘I know what I fuckin’ agreed to,’ Guan Shan mutters.

He Tian is unimpressed, and Guan Shan realises he hasn’t brought him away from the eyes of the crew because he pities him. He’s just making an attempt not to air any dirty laundry. He’s being professional. 

He says, ‘Then you can stop with the chip on your shoulder and stop being a bitch to the rest of the crew. They’re not your enemy. Neither am I.’

‘I’m not—’

‘If you want sympathy, then play it up. Start crying. I don’t give a damn—the audience will love it.’ He Tian stares at him flatly. ‘Maybe at the end we can have a father-son reunion—’

‘Don’t you fuckin’ dare,’ Guan Shan growls. The thought sickens him. Already, he knows that his father might see this in the papers, or have access to the show on the prison’s communal TV’s. Guan Shan hasn’t told him. He hasn’t visited in over a year. By the time the show airs, He Tian’s name will be emblazoned in lights; it wasn’t written in the contract, but the restaurant will become He Tian’s has much as it has ever belonged to the Mos. 

‘You’re in the entertainment business, Mo Guan Shan,’ He Tian reminds him coldly. ‘You should take what you can get and don’t stop.’

‘Is that what you’ve done?’ Guan Shan sneers.

‘Isn’t it obvious? Look at me.’

Guan Shan is looking. He’s spent two months looking, and he could spend even longer doing so, if only for the fact that he doesn’t want to. His preocuppation with the looks of a pretentious media executive worth millions is really fucking unfortunate. He hates himself for it. 

Granted, sometimes things are good. Sometimes they joke with each other and have moments off-camera that make Guan Shan’s spine tingle. Sometimes he thinks He Tian’s hand touches him when it shouldn’t, and sometimes Guan Shan’s eyes linger longer when they shouldn’t, too. There have been no sordid, insidious rumours staining He Tian’s name as with other media execs in the industry, but that means nothing. He Tian has the money and charm to keep it quiet. Probably, He Tian plays this game with all his entreupeneurs. Probably, Guan Shan is being fucking stupid. He hates himself for that, too.

‘I don’t wanna be like you,’ Guan Shan tells him eventually. ‘You look at people like they’re ratings.’

‘Spare me,’ He Tian remarks dryly. ‘If you had enough of a moral backbone you wouldn’t be using me at all for this. You would’ve worked and worked until you had what it took to make this place work.’ He smiles, almost tenderly. ‘And even then it wouldn’t be enough.’

‘Fuck you.’

‘No, fuck you, Mo Guan Shan. You’re going to be whatever the camera makes tries to make you.’

‘You mean what you make—’

‘Shut up. Do you want to be the arrogant, angry chef with an overruling passion for food? The kid from a broken home with too-high dreams of running a business? Is this all some grand venture to repair your paternal relationship? Or maybe something else entirely. You have the opportunity of a life time. If I were you, I’d think about taking it.’

Guan Shan opens his mouth to argue, and He Tian swears—in frustration, in anger, in bemused disbelief that Guan Shan still won’t back down from the fight when he knows he’s lost. The outcome was pre-determined, and Guan Shan’s still wincing at new bruises and spitting blood onto the tarpaulin of the derelict kitchen. 

He can only stare as He Tian marches forward, and he only thinks to take a step back when He Tian is a few feet from him— In front of him now—  Grabbing his shoulders with two hands—

He Tian’s kissing him. 

He Tian doesn’t wait for Guan Shan’s too-slow reaction. He takes what he wants, pillaging the intimacy, tongue forcing itself between Guan Shan’s lips—and lets him go. Immediately after, He Tian staggers back slightly, narrowly avoiding the fist that swings in his direction. 

Guan Shan heaves. He doesn’t have the energy to try a second time. ‘You—’

‘There,’ He Tian says thickly. ‘File for harrassment. Put my name down in the mud and rebuild yourself from the ashes.’

‘You fuckin’... You...’ Words fail him. His head is reeling.

He Tian lifts his hand as if to wipe his mouth with the back of his hand, but his fingertips linger on his lips. His face is slightly flushed. 

‘I’m giving you power over me.’ 

He says it like an apology.

‘I’d never win,’ Guan Shan chokes out. ‘Me against you in court? I’m nothin’.’

‘I’d agree with your story. If nothing else, I’ll pay out a settlement fee and you can do this whole thing yourself.’

Guan Shan shakes his head. His mouth feels bruised. The worst part is that he’d imagined this before. Different. Better. He’d wanted it. No, the worst part is that he wants it still.

‘Still dirty money,’ he whispers.

‘It doesn’t have to be,’ says He Tian. Guan Shan realises he sounds a little shocked—as if he hadn’t had control over his actions. As if he hadn’t expected its consequences. Guan Shan realises: He Tian hadn’t done this with the others. ‘Make your choice, Mo Guan Shan. You can quit, you can file a claim—or we can carry on and get this thing finished.’

‘Shit,’ Guan Shan breathes, dragging a shaking hand over his face. ‘How the fuck am I gonna just... carry on after you...’

He looks to He Tian, expecting some cool answer, something stemmed from exploitative experience, but He Tian only grimaces and says, ‘The same way I’ll have to.’

///

🌸 in the footsteps of @nightfayre’s wonderful initiative, i’m filling any drabble requests following a donation to causes in support of black lives. please read here if you would like more information! ✨

[mashtonasfuck]

(Moodboard by @pxrxmoore, title card by me!)

This is part of the writers collab organised by @maluminspace and @h0tsos! The entire masterlist of everyone’s work can be found here. 

Pairing: Luke Hemmings x Ashton Irwin

Prompts: 

Lashton Coffee Shop

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I have no idea what I’m doing. I almost never do.”

Warnings: references to mental illness, sexual references

Word Count: 2.3K

A note from Lucy: This piece was largely inspired by this post that Beth sent me. A big thank you to the writers GC for helping me when I got stuck. Shout out to Beth for reading every draft, and helping me work out where I was going with this piece.

My masterlist can be found here

This work must not be reposted anywhere - I do not give my permission for it to appear anywhere other than on my blog, or on my ao3 page.

——————————————————————————

Luke’s phone pinged, drawing his attention away from the cooking show he was watching.

> Wanna go and grab a coffee?

> Sure :) Alfred’s?

> Meet you there in 20?

> :)

Luke pulled himself off the sofa, humming quietly as he gathered his wallet and keys. A coffee message from Ashton usually meant that something was bothering him, even if he didn’t know it yet. Luke’s phone pinging again broke him out of his musings - Ashton had tagged him in a post on Instagram. Swiping the notification open, Luke was met with a photo of the two of them, smiling as he tapped the like button. His eyes drifted down to the caption, smile turning into a frown:

Today I am feeling nostalgic about how much time I spent picking this man's brain whilst making Youngblood. We nurtured each other out of a very lonely and dark place. I am happy we made it out of those times. Love you @Luke5SOS. We are fighters.

There was definitely something bothering Ashton, and Luke was determined to find out what it was.

—

Luke saw Ashton sat outside as he approached the coffee shop, fingers drumming on the tabletop, leg bouncing. His stomach twisted uncomfortably as he took in the sight of the other man - Ashton was anxious about something. Luke slid into the seat opposite him, but the older man didn’t even notice his presence. He cleared his throat and Ashton looked up at him startled. 

“You okay there, Ash?” 

The older man chuckled quietly pushing Luke’s coffee towards him.

“Was lost in my thoughts, sorry man. How are you?”

Luke took the lid off the coffee cup and looked at Ashton. The older man looked tired, his smile not quite meeting his eyes. Luke took a sip of his coffee before replying,

“Cut the crap, Ash, what’s wrong?”

“What d’you -”

Luke cut him off with a wave of his hand.

“Ash, I’ve known you long enough to know that something is bothering you. You only message me about coffee if there’s something you want to talk about, but don’t want Calum to know.” Luke ran a hand through his hair before continuing, “After everything we’ve both been through, you don’t have to keep up appearances for me. Just tell me what’s wrong, please.”

Ashton let out a breath and brought his coffee up to his lips, avoiding Luke’s gaze. The younger man was right - there was something bothering him - he just didn’t know how to tell him. Ashton knew he was being ridiculous. The last year and a half had really strengthened his bond with the blonde man, and Luke knew things about him that Michael and Calum still didn’t. They’d pull each other up when the other was falling, both seeing each other at some of their lowest moments. Ashton was grateful for Luke’s presence in his life - he was grateful for all three of his bandmates - but his relationship with Luke had shifted whilst they were writing Youngblood. Ashton knew that Luke had saved him from making some stupid life-choices, and he knew that Luke felt the same. He looked up at Luke, the younger man watching him patiently, blue eyes full of concern. Ashton sucked in a breath, it was now or never.

“Luke, I -” movement behind Luke’s left shoulder cut him off, gaze landing on the paparazzo that was making his way towards them. Ashton swore - why could they never leave them the fuck alone? He sighed heavily, motioning for a bemused Luke to stand and follow him into the safety of the coffee shop. Ashton scanned the room for an empty table, groaning when he couldn’t find one. Why was the universe playing him like this today?

“Hey, Ashton?” His gaze fell on one of the girls behind the counter, “We have an upstairs that I can open up for you if you want?” 

He opened his mouth to reply, Luke cutting him off - 

“That would be great, Kasey, thank you.” 

Ashton raised an eyebrow at Luke being on first name terms with the barista, the younger man just shaking his head and pushing past Ashton to follow her up the stairs. 

—

“You gonna tell me what that was about?” Luke asked Ashton once they’d sat themselves down in one of the booths.

“Paps,” Ashton muttered. 

Luke huffed in annoyance before resting his elbows on the table, waiting for Ashton to speak. He knew better than to push him to talk - the older man sometimes struggled to articulate his feelings, and Luke could tell that this was one of those times. He rested his chin on his left hand, bringing his coffee up to take a sip. The flavour danced on his tongue and he hummed quietly at the vanilla coming through against the bitter coffee. He met Ashton’s gaze as he lowered the cup, the older man looking at him with a soft smile on his face. Luke stuck his tongue out at Ashton, earning a chuckle from the other man. 

“I love you, Luke.” The younger man smirked at Ashton’s words and rolled his eyes.

“Love you too, Ash, you know that.” 

Ashton shifted in his seat, looking at the blonde man in front of him. Why was this so hard?

“No, Lu, I -” Ashton sucked in a breath, here goes nothing, “I think I’m in love with you.”

Ashton’s voice was barely a whisper, but he knew that Luke had heard him from the way his eyes widened at his confession. It hung in the air between them, and Ashton wondered if he should have just kept it to himself. He looked away from Luke, closing his eyes and bringing his hands up to rub his temples. He knew he shouldn’t have said anything, and now Luke was going to hate him, and it was going to ruin the band, and - 

“Well, that’s good considering I think I’m in love with you too.” Ashton’s eyes flew open and he looked up at Luke. The younger man smiled at him lazily before continuing, “Mike kept saying that I should just tell you, but I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“Cal said the same thing when I told him how I felt about you.” Ashton admitted, a smile on his face.

“Those assholes, they clearly spoke to each other.” 

Ashton laughed at Luke’s outburst, making a mental note to pull them up on it later. He moved his hand across the table towards Luke, the younger man entwining their fingers eagerly. They sat in comfortable silence as they finished their drinks, Luke absentmindedly rubbing small circles on the side of Ashton’s thumb, earning him a hum of appreciation from the drummer. Luke blushed, glancing at the man opposite - Ashton was looking at him intently. 

“Hey, um, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I have no idea what I’m doing. I almost never do.” 

Luke frowned at Ashton’s words, the older man continuing quickly as he sensed Luke’s confusion. 

“What I mean is - fuck, why is this so hard?” Ashton ran a hand through his hair as he looked at Luke, “you know me better than anyone else, Lu, and I really don’t want to mess this up. You’ve seen me at my worst, and somehow you’re still sticking around and I have no idea why.”

“Ash, it’s because I know all those things about you.” Luke smiled softly at the frown that appeared on the drummer’s face. “You were there for me too, remember? I basically had a breakdown, Ash, and you were there through it all. You saved me. You’re one of the kindest people I’ve ever met.”

Ashton squeezed Luke’s hand, the singer laughing quietly and squeezing back. He knew that he didn’t have to use words for Luke to know how he felt. The drummer leaned across the table and tucked a strand of Luke’s hair behind his ear, the younger man leaning into his touch. Ashton hummed quietly as he rubbed the side of Luke’s jaw, eyes glancing down at the other man’s lips. Luke smiled softly, shifting forward on his chair to bring his face closer to Ashton’s. Ashton swallowed the lump in his throat, wetting his lips as Luke moved to close the gap between them.

Ashton’s phone vibrated loudly on the table, causing both men to jump back from each other in shock. Ashton swore quietly, Calum’s face showing up on the screen as the phone continued vibrating on the tabletop. He sighed, shooting Luke an apologetic glance before picking it up and swiping to answer the call.

“Hey Cal, what’s up?”

Luke could vaguely hear Calum saying something about taking Duke out and Ashton groaned.

“Sorry man, I totally forgot - m’actually out with Luke at the moment.” Ashton gave Luke a soft smile, reaching back across the table to thread their fingers together.

“Yeah, we just grabbed a coffee, we’re at Alfred’s. Wha- hang on a minute Cal.”

Michael’s ringtone blared out of Luke’s pocket, the singer pulling his hand out of Ashton’s to grab the phone before bringing it up to his ear.

“Hi Mike. M’out with Ash at the moment, can I call you back?” Ashton shook his head furiously at Luke’s words, the younger man raising an eyebrow as Ashton smirked. “Actually Mike, hold on a sec.”

“Cal, I’m just gonna put you on speaker for a bit - Luke has Michael on the phone, and we need to talk to you about something.” Ashton grinned at Luke as he put Calum on speaker, the blonde man frowning slightly as he did the same with Michael. 

“You’re on speaker with Ash and Cal, Mike.”

“We need to talk to you both.” Ashton explained, the grin on his face growing wider at the confused look on Luke’s face. 

Calum and Michael both said that they were listening, Ashton smirking at Luke before speaking.

“So, Luke and I discovered something very interesting just now. It seems like you’ve both been speaking to each other about us behind our backs - anything to say?”

There was silence from both phones for a second, before Michael finally spoke.

“It was Calum’s fault!”

“Michael what the fuck, man?!”

“Shut up Cal - look guys, Calum told me that Ashton had been talking to him about something, and all I said was that hypothetically you’d said something similar Luke, so I didn’t tell him exactly -” Calum started to protest, Luke and Ashton glancing at each other in amusement.

“Boys, please!” Ashton spoke over them both, the phones going silent again. “Luke and I talked and… well we decided we’re just better off as friends.” 

The singer’s mouth fell open at Ashton’s words, the drummer just rolling his eyes and intertwining their fingers again. Luke looked down at their joined hands, then back at Ashton, understanding finally hitting him. He stuck his tongue out at Ashton before speaking.

“Yeah, we don’t think it’ll work out honestly.”

The silence from both phones made Ashton check they were both still connected, both clearly trying to process what had just been said.

Calum was the first to speak, expressing his disappointment, but if they’d decided it was best then he supported them either way. Michael agreed with the bassist, telling Luke he’d call him later before they both disconnected their calls. 

Luke burst out laughing after both phones disconnected, tugging Ashton back across the table towards him and finally pressing their lips together. Ashton hummed quietly, threading his fingers in the singer’s hair as they broke apart, resting their foreheads together as he spoke quietly.

“Wanna come back to mine?” 

Luke hummed in response, before pulling himself out of Ashton’s hold and placing his phone back in his pocket.

“I need to go and let Petunia out first, that okay?” 

Ashton nodded, standing up from his chair and gathering their empty coffee cups. 

“Let’s go and let that giant dog of yours out, and then we can order food for dinner maybe?”

“Sounds like a plan, Ash.”

—

Calum let himself into Ashton’s house, dinner in one arm and Duke in the other - he figured that Ashton would probably want company after an awkward conversation with Luke. He walked into the kitchen placing the food on the side and made his way towards the living room with Duke whining to get free from his hold.

“In a sec, Duke, just wanna check -”

Calum stopped dead in the doorway, taking in the sight on the couch before him.

“Are you kidding me?!”

Luke yelped as he heard Calum’s voice, pushing Ashton off him and scrambling to pull the blanket off the back of the couch.

“Lu, what -” Ashton saw Calum standing in the doorway and he groaned. “Uh, hi Cal - what’re you doing here?”

Calum smirked at his bandmates before pulling his phone out of his pocket and pressing it to his ear, letting Duke out into the garden as he waited for the call to connect.

“Hey Mike - you owe me $200.”

Luke groaned at Calum’s words, hiding his face in Ashton’s shoulder. Ashton pressed his lips to the top of Luke’s head as Calum continued speaking to Michael.

“Mmhmm, I just walked into the living room and Ashton had Luke’s dick down his throat. Was kinda hot actually - never thought Ash was a bottom.”

Ashton grabbed the TV remote off the coffee table and launched it at Calum.

——————————————————————————

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[dlwritings]

Firecracker Soul | Dean Winchester

Chapter 22 - Sorry

pairing - mob!Dean x teacher!ofc

word count - 3,950

warnings - language, oral (f receiving), fingering, unprotected sex (cover your stump before you hump), daddy kink

additional notes at the end

(previous)

Alice didn't sleep at all the night after the Ben Platt concert. Part of her wished she hadn't blown up at Dean, but another part of her was still frustrated and hurt. Why did Dean have to be so complicated? Why did she have to get involved with someone who made such simple things so difficult?

She made herself a cup of tea and headed out to her balcony. It was small -nothing compared to Dean's- but it was hers, and she liked it. She wrapped a blanket around her shoulders and sat on the outdoor chair. With her legs tucked under her, she brought her mug to her lips. She wasn't even slightly tired, and it was after midnight. She was usually fast asleep by then. Her mind just kept running in circles. She liked Dean. She really did. She just couldn't stay in a relationship with someone who didn't understand how relationships worked. Was it her job to teach him? Was she making all of this more complicated than she needed to?

Naturally, when she met Christine for breakfast, she asked her.

"He thinks I overuse the word normal," she told her. "Like there's no such thing as normal. But there is. I think I deserve to be in a normal relationship at least once in my life. Greg definitely wasn't normal, and I guess I thought Dean was."

"You thought he would be normal even after he told you he was a mob boss?" Christine asked. "You still thought he might be normal?"

"I guess I did," she said with a sigh. She yawned and took another sip of her coffee.

"No offense," Christine said, "but you look awful."

"I didn't sleep last night," she answered.

"At all?"

"No," Alice said with another sigh. "Just couldn't. Couldn't turn my mind off."

"Alice," Christine sighed. "Don't start this."

"Start what?" she said.

"You gotta take care of yourself," she said. "When everything started with Greg, you did this same thing. You would call me constantly at, like, 2AM."

"I know," she said. "It's just hard."

Christine nodded. "Do you want to forgive him?"

"Of course I do," she said. "I just want him to be sorry. To actually be sorry. You know, I don't even think he said the words yesterday. He just, like, paid me off." Christine was quiet. She licked her lips and looked down at her coffee cup. "What're you thinking?" Alice asked. "You have that look."

Christine sighed. "I know I only met him once, but from what you say of him, it really seems like he cares about you. I think he just doesn't know how to express it."

"God," Alice mumbled, rubbing her temples. "Jess said the same thing."

"Do you not agree?" Christine asked.

"I don't know," she groaned. "I'm just trying to weigh if he's worth the effort I'm putting into this."

"What's your gut telling you?" she asked. Alice raised her eyebrows.

"My gut?" she repeated.

"Yeah," she said. "You know, you've got to feel this in your stomach. Is he worth it, or is he not?"

"I don't know," Alice said, shaking her head. "I don't know, okay?"

"It's because you're thinking too much," Christine said. "Don't think, just say it. Is he worth it, yes or no?"

"Yes!" she blurted out. Christine smirked and folded her arms across her chest, leaning back in her seat. "Wow," Alice said, impressed. "Where'd you learn that?"

"The Office," Christine said.

"Of course," Alice said. "Of course that's where you learned it."

-

Family dinner was at Cas and Hannah's on Saturday, and Dean wished he could skip it. Still, he knew the rules. Only sickness could excuse a family dinner absence, and he couldn't fake that. He supposed he just had too much of a conscience. So, he showed up to dinner with store bought cookies and greeted everyone half heartedly.

As Dean made his way to the alcohol, he missed the looks everyone shared behind his back. Everyone expected things to have been better between Dean and Alice by then. Hannah even got a plate out for her. They knew he planned to apologize to her on Friday, so what had gone so wrong?

Dean avoided the topic of Alice all throughout dinner, and he had no intention of sticking around for the usual after-meal drinks to talk it out. The others, of course, noticed, and weren't going to let him go that easy.

"Nah, nah," Sam said, waving his hand at Dean. "Sit down."

"I've got things to do," Dean said.

"Bullshit," Sam said. "Talk to your family about your problems."

"You can't not bring her and not expect us to ask why," Cas said.

"You guys were hot and heavy for, like, two months straight," Jess said. "And now you're not talking? I thought you were apologizing yesterday."

"I did!" he said, plopping back down on the seat in annoyance. "You know what I did? I got her favorite singer to come perform for us on the terrace. Do you know how much that cost me? A lot. It cost me a lot. And the whole time, I thought things were better, but she was still mad. What more could I have done?"

"Wait, are you being serious?" Hannah asked. Dean furrowed his eyebrows, shook his head, and shrugged.

"Yeah?" he said.

"Dean," Jess said with a laugh of disbelief, "you're really shit at problem solving, you know that?" He was genuinely confused as he looked at her. "You can't just buy her things and expect everything to be better," she said. "Not everything needs a big, grand gesture. Sometimes, all she wants is for you to say I'm sorry."

"I did say I'm sorry," he said.

"Did you?" Sam asked. Dean opened his mouth, but no words came out.

"Yes?" he finally said.

"Dude," Sam said with a laugh. "Come on."

"I'm sure I apologized after our fight when she fell in the pool," he said. "And that was after I brought flowers to her work. So what did I do wrong there? She was mad about that too."

"It's like I said," Jess said, "not everything needs a grand gesture. Apologies like that seem like they're more about you looking good than you actually being sorry."

"They look ingenuine," Hannah simplified.

"What, so you think she doesn't even think I'm sorry?" he asked. The others were quiet, and Jess shrugged. Dean groaned in annoyance and ran his hands through his hair. "Fuck," he muttered. "Why are relationships so complicated? Nothing was this hard with Lisa."

"You can't compare relationships," Sam said as the others made various expressions of agreement.

"That's a rabbit hole you cannot go down," Jess said. "No two relationships are the same because no two women are the same." Dean groaned and downed the rest of his whiskey.

"So how the fuck am I suppose to fix this?" he said.

"Do you want to fix this?" Sam asked.

"Of course I do," Dean said. "I like her. It's just that every time I do anything, it only makes everything worse. It's not that I'm not trying. I just don't think I know how to do this right."

"Well," Cas said, "there's this thing called talking. That might be a good way to start."

"Fuck off," Dean said, rubbing his temples.

"He's right," Hannah said. "Just talk to her."

"How?" Dean said. "It's not like she's gonna answer my calls." Everyone was quiet for a moment.

"Okay," Jess said with a sigh, "normally I wouldn't condone this, but there is a way to balance a grand gesture and a normal conversation."

"And you think that's what I should do?" he said. Jess looked at the others as if searching for their agreement. She must've gotten the response she wanted.

"Here's what I think you should do."

-

A few weeks passed, and Alice was on her way to her eight-week prenatal appointment. It was a Friday, so she decided to take the whole day off, even though the appointment was in the late afternoon. She knew she wouldn't be able to have a good day or do anything productive when she'd be thinking about the appointment all day.

She met up with Jess before the appointment for lunch at Panera. "How're you doing?" Jess asked as soon as they sat at their table.

"Nervous," she admitted. "But kind of excited too."

"Good," Jess said. "You should be. This is an exciting time. They'll even do an ultrasound today. You'll get your first little glimpse at the baby."

"I know," Alice said. "I googled a bunch of stuff."

When they got to the appointment, everything went as she expected: a general health exam, urine test, bloodwork, genetic carrier screening, STD tests, pap smear, and a blood sugar test. Based on the information Alice shared with Dr. Montgomery, she was able to estimate a due date. "So, this little kiddo is going to be due on June 30, 2021."

"That feels so far away," Alice said, putting her hands on her stomach.

"It'll go by before you know it," Dr. Montgomery said. "Should we do an ultrasound?"

Alice nodded, and Jess squeezed her hand as Dr. Montgomery began the process. The jelly was cold on her stomach, and she couldn't help but jump. Everyone chuckled, and Alice sighed and laid her head back on the medical chair. A few minutes went by, and Dr. Montgomery turned the screen to face Alice and Jess. "That right there," she said, pointing to the blurry blob in the middle of her uterus, "is little Baby Berkley."

"Really?" Alice whispered, tears blurring her eyes.

"Yup," Dr. Montgomery said. "It's about half an inch long. No bigger than a raspberry."

"It's perfect," she said, tears flowing from her eyes. "It's so beautiful."

"Beautiful and healthy," Dr. Montgomery added. "Things are looking good."

They chatted for a while more about what Alice was to expect during the pregnancy and after. By the time the appointment was done, Alice was exhausted. Her brain was overloaded with information, and she felt like every time she exhaled she would lose some of it. Once again, she was glad she had Jess. "Thank you for coming," Alice said, "again."

"Of course," Jess said. "Like I told you, I'll be with you this whole way."

"I appreciate it," she said. "Do you want to come over for a bit? Hannah and Christine can come too. We can watch some movies or-"

"Oh, I would love to," Jess said, "but Sam and I already made dinner plans."

"Oh," Alice said, trying not to sound too disappointed. "Of course."

"Seriously though," Jess said quickly, "we should do that sometime. That sounds like fun." Alice nodded, and the two got into their cars and parted ways.

Alice walked into her apartment and kicked her shoes off. Her feet were killing her, and she was hungry, but she didn't want to take the time to make anything. Seemed like it'd be a night of ramen noodles and whatever cheap wine she had on hand. She hadn't had a night like that since she started dating Dean. God. What had her life become?

When she got into her room, she let out a shriek and covered her mouth with her hand.

"Dean," she breathed out. "You scared the crap out of me."

Once the shock wore off, she took in the scene in front of her. Dean was wearing sweats and a t-shirt and was sitting on a blanket that he laid out on the floor. There was a box of pizza from her favorite pizza place and a plate of chocolate covered strawberries. She could feel tears pooling in her eyes. "What's all this?" she asked.

"Shit, shit," Dean said, standing up and stepping over to her. "Fuck, you're crying. Did I get the wrong pizza? Is it-"

"No, no," she said, wiping the tears from her eyes. "I just-" She let out a soft laugh. "What's going on?" Dean scratched the back of his neck.

"I wanted to say I'm sorry," he said. "For everything. For getting that man killed, for when I blew up about Lisa, for dealing with Brent without talking to you first, and for what I did at the party. And I'm sorry I try to make things better with money and sex and violence instead of with words. You're right. I'm not good at this, and I'm not normal. I don't know how to be in a real relationship, because I haven't been in one in a really long time. I know I can be possessive and disrespectful, and I am so sorry. I do stupid shit because I don't know how to handle the way I feel about you sometimes, and I just worry. I-" He hesitated. "I lost my cool at the party. And I'm honestly, truly sorry."

"S'okay," she mumbled, hanging her head. Dean sighed, shook his head, and closed the space between them in a few steps. He looked down at her and lifted her chin.

"I know I've been hurting you," he said. "And I know I scared you at the party. And I'm so, so sorry for that. I need to learn to talk instead of just act on all my feelings. But I'm gonna learn, okay? I'm gonna make this better." She smiled at him, and he wiped away a tear that had fallen from her eye. "You know, I may not be wise," he said, "and I won't always save the day."

She couldn't help but giggle at the way he managed to fit a Ben Platt lyric into the conversation like a dork. He smiled softly. God, he missed that sound.

"But I won't run away," he whispered. "And I won't let you run away either."

"I don't want to run away," she said, putting her hands on his cheeks. "I really like you, Dean. And I appreciate all of this. It means so, so much."

"Yeah?" he said.

"Yeah," she repeated. "Thank you for this."

"Of course," he said. He pinched her chin lightly. "Can I kiss you?"

Alice giggled. "Yeah. Yeah, you can kiss me."

Dean smiled, tilted his head down, and pressed his lips to hers. She kissed him softly back. The kiss didn't last very long, and when they pulled away, Alice looked down at the mini picnic Dean had set up. "This looks great," she said. "You got my favorite pizza."

"Yeah," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "I was hoping I got it right."

"You did," she said. "I want to change out of this outfit first." Dean nodded, so she went into her drawers to get some comfier clothes. She grabbed a pair of pajama bottoms and the Zeppelin t-shirt she stole from Dean and didn't bother going into the bathroom to change. Dean swallowed thickly and forced himself to look away from her. Not everything was about sex.

When she sat down beside him, she reached for a slice of pizza. Dean smiled and did the same. "So," she said, turning to face him and crossing her legs, "what's up?"

"What's up?" he repeated with a chuckle.

"Yeah," she said. "I miss you."

"I'm right here," he said.

"Shut up," she giggled, rolling her eyes at him. "I just mean we didn't talk for a while, and I want to know how you are. How's Jack doing? Or can you not talk about it?"

He shrugged and took another bite of his pizza. "I don't get to talk to him that much," he said, "for obvious reasons. He calls from a payphone to a different burner phone of mine as often as he can. So far, he's just trying to blend in. We have the location of his base -like, his equivalent to our bunker- which is awesome."

"Seriously?" she said.

"Mhm," he hummed, wiping his mouth on a napkin.

"Are you gonna go there?" she asked.

"No," Dean said. "We don't want to ambush the whole place. We just want to get him."

"If you get him, does his family fall apart?" she asked.

"No," Dean said again, this time with a sigh. "His underboss will take over."

"So why don't you just take out his whole family?" she said.

Dean chuckled. "Because then we'd be talking mass murder, and I don't think we really want to do that."

"So what's the point of taking out Lucifer?" she asked. "If someone else takes over, don't you just think the next boss will have it out for you? If you take out a boss, you'll start a war." He looked at her in amusement.

"Where'd you hear that?" he asked.

She shrugged. "I might've watched Goodfellas to learn about your career."

"Alice!" Dean laughed.

"It was very violent!"

"Yeah, it is," he said, shaking his head in disbelief. "You're such a dork. You could've just asked me, you know."

"I know," she said. "But I wanted to randomly share some mob knowledge and impress you." She paused and fluttered her eyelashes. "Did it work?"

"Oh yeah," Dean said. "I'm very impressed." Alice giggled and reached out to scratch her nails across his beard. Dean hummed and leaned into her touch. He grabbed her hand and kissed her palm. "I missed you," he muttered against her hand.

She smiled. "I missed you too, Dean." When he smiled back at her, she stood up from the ground and stuck her hand out to him. He furrowed his eyebrows but took it and got up from the ground. Barely giving him a chance to get his balance, Alice stood on her tip-toes and pressed her lips to his. He wrapped his arms around her and held her close, then lifted her thighs and wrapped them around his waist. He walked them over to the bed and dropped her onto it. She giggled as she bounced on the mattress, and he laughed as well and pulled his shirt over his head.

Dean licked his lips and scratched his beard, letting his eyes rake over Alice's body. Her cheeks flushed, and she held her arms out to him. "C'mere," she said. He smiled and crawled over to her, and she moved her hands to his cheeks to bring him down for a kiss. She kissed across his cheek and to his ear, nibbling his earlobe.

Alright, if Dean was going to try and communicate better in their relationship, so could she.

"I want you inside me, Dean," she whispered.

"Fuck," he breathed out, hanging his head with a smile of disbelief. "I think that's the hottest thing you've ever said to me." She smiled as she kissed his neck.

"Please, daddy," she whispered. He groaned as she sucked a mark onto his skin. He pulled away and made her sit up so he could pull her shirt over her head. She had taken off her bra when she came home, so her tits were bare to him.

"I could look at you all day," he muttered, licking his lips and running his hands up her torso to her tits, gripping them in his hands and pinching her nipples. A whine rose up the back of her throat as she arched her back against his hands.

"Dean," she whispered.

"I'm gonna eat your pretty pussy first, okay?" he said, kissing down her neck and across her chest. He trapped her nipple between his lips, sucking it until it was hard, then he moved onto the other. He kissed down her torso and to the waistband of her pajama pants. Once they were off, he captured her panties between his teeth and tugged them down her legs. He tossed them aside and pushed her legs apart, then kissed up her thighs. "God," he muttered, "I missed this pussy." She put her arms over her face when he spoke, and then sighed when he dipped his tongue past her folds.

He always knew exactly what ways to move to make her toes curl. Between slow, kitten licks and swirling circles around her clit, she was gripping his hair in her fists in no time. When his finger started teasing her opening, she lifted her hips to get closer to him. "So needy for daddy," he teased. She just nodded, and he smiled and pushed his finger inside her. He moved it in and out of her slowly, bringing his mouth to her clit. He sucked it between his lips, letting his tongue flick at it as he eased another finger inside her.

"Dean," she said for the second time. "I wanna cum."

"I know, sweetheart," he said. "You're right there. Let go. Cum for daddy." She nodded and felt her breath catch in her throat as she tilted her head into the pillow and came around Dean's fingers. He kept moving them, slowing down so she could come down from her high. "So pretty when you cum," he said, kissing up her body again until he reached her lips. She kissed him back, her teeth clashing with his. "Hey, hey, slow down," Dean said with a chuckle, pulling away. She kept her eyes closed until Dean put his hand on her chin. "I'm not going anywhere, sweetheart," he said. "We can take this nice and slow."

"I know," she whispered. "I know. I just-" She sighed and licked her lips. "Dean, I missed you. I want you."

A smile grew on his lips again. "Okay."

He sat back on his heels and tugged his sweats off, letting his boxers follow. When his cock sprang up, Alice bit her lip, which made Dean smile as he gripped his cock. He pumped it before rubbing the head across her folds. Every time it brushed against her clit, she would jump and dig her nails into his shoulder. Dean took the not-so-subtle hint and slid into her. He hesitated a moment, giving her time to adjust before moving his hips back and thrusting into her again. Her lips parted as she tilted her head back into the pillow again. He grabbed her hand and laced his fingers with hers before leaning down to kiss her lips. He was always able to maintain a steady, back-arching rhythm with her that hit in all the right places. He was so big, and the drag of his cock against her walls made her whimper against his lips. She wrapped her legs around his waist and pressed her heels into his lower back. She wanted him closer. Deeper.

So she decided to take control.

She used all her strength to turn her and Dean over so he was on his back. He sat up, and she situated herself on his cock, wrapping her whole body around his. She could feel his cock in the deepest part of her, and his pelvic bone brushed against her clit. She gripped onto him like her life depended on it, burying her face in his shoulder. Dean put his hands on her waist and helped her move against his cock, grinding in the most pleasurable motion. Her breath caught in her throat as her nails ran deep scratches up his back. When his cock hit her g-spot one final time, she came around him with a loud moan, only slightly muffled by her mouth resting against his skin. Dean came right after, shooting his load inside her.

They stayed wrapped in each other's arms again, Alice kissing his shoulder. "I'm glad you're back, sweetheart," Dean whispered.

"Mm," she hummed, kissing his skin again. "I'm glad you're back."

Dean chuckled. "And I'm not going anywhere ever again."

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

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[skeletorific]

man i bet it's super odd for the ancestor trolls to be putting out pale feels on anyone, much less a human. I can just see the most frustrated lil ball of horns and teeth trying to figure out if theres, ya know, *room* in a human's life for moirailegence with this whole platonic structure called a family and the only-one-romance-a-hooman standard/stigma and. they need a pap just tryin to figure it out! If you wouldn't mind, i'd love to hear your take on how psiionic darkleer, n dualscar would do

Me skating the fuck in to answer Ancestors requests. (I’m assuming this is in reference to my Ancestors live on Earth C timeline, but the headcanons themselves will work for just a general human interaction, I promise)

So, a note about Earth C and quad: I really can’t imagine that troll, human, and carapacian concepts of romance wouldn’t start to mingle, at least to a certain extent. After all, the three species come up at the same time, right alongside each other.

Quadrants aren’t exactly the norms for humans even there. Our reproductive needs are different, for one-thing. Additionally, I have to imagine that even without the social coding of Earth-A, a good chunk of humans would probably still tend to be fairly monogamous, especially if one of the primary texts left behind was written by a human woman raised on human monogamy who took only one lover herself. However, there’s probably a healthy chunk of humans who go by quadrants, trolls who go by human romance, and some who mix and match (for instance, “This is Ben, my significant other, and this is Meryll, my kismesis”). Its something most people figure out as they get older.

However, that doesn’t necessarily mean that the ancestors have cottoned on to the nuances of it all. Getting the idea of human monogamy through their heads was hard enough, and once it happens, of course THEN they have to catch pale feelings for one of the squishy fucks!

The Psiionic: So, unlike the other two on this list, Captor has actually had some experience with relationships that are a little more....fluid. Vantas and Leijon’s relationship always fell squarely in the middle of the chart, borrowing elements from all and none. Hell, his OWN relationship with the two of them tiptoed pitch, pale, ashen, and flushed depending on the day of the week. So, while he does still broadly conceive of things like an Alternian, its not necessarily an insurmountable barrier for him.

How he proceeds depends a lot on whether or not the human already has an s/o. If you do, he ultimately just bites the bullet and asks to talk to both of you (bringing Vantas and Leijon along for emotional support). He doesn’t want to move in where he’s not welcome and he’s got no designs on your flushed relationship. He’s quiet and his voice is shaking a bit as he struggles to keep his nerves (and by extent, his psiionics) under controll. But he’s never seen the point in fucking around the pricklefrond. Either you feel the same, or you don’t.  

If you don’t have an s/o, though, he just sort of carefully allows himself to become a feature in your life. He’s a little shakey socially but he puts the effort in to be around you. Captor’s never gonna be the most effusive emotionally, but he does make a point to give the occasional genuine compliment as to how he appreciates who you are, and what you do. When you’re having trouble he has a tendency to just sort of materialize in the background to offer his help. Pale flirting is all about trust, both engendering it, and demonstrating it for each other. No matter how oblivious you are, its hard not to notice that his walls are usually so high for others, yet they seem to come down around you.

Despite aforementioned not-fucking-around-the-pricklefrond, its possible he won’t ever use the word moirail for you unless you ask him about it. You’re human, and he doesn’t see the need to regale you with the complexities of troll romance if you’re both happy with the current arrangement. One way or another, though, Vantas runs at the mouth and spills the beans to you, and you have a good long talk about it.

Executor Darkleer: This guy, on the other hand, is a staunch traditionalist, paired with the fact that he ultimately thinks he’s somehow unworthy of love in any form. 

Years of social conditioning don’t just fall away because you and your former empress shop for box wine at the same liquor store now. As an expatriate, Zahhak was literally forbidden from contributing to the filial slurry, and was far too isolated to acquire a moirail. The best he had was the occasional frustrated shoosh-pap from Mindfang just to snap him out of his moods for a bit. Now, the old empire may have fallen away, but he’s still to some extent punishing himself. As a result, as soon as he figures out he’s catching pale feelings for a human, he starts avoiding you at all costs. He can’t allow himself to fall into any kind of temptation. The very qualities that attract him to you are the same reason he’s convinced you deserve something better.

Fortunately, there was no way you were friends with Darkleer in the first place if you were the type to let social avoidance turn you off. After a couple of weeks of not hearing from him (and a few confusingly smug texts from Mindfang when you ask her if he’s doing alright and her only response was “Go find out. I’m sure he’ll 8e more than alr8 ;;;;)”), you show up at his hive and bang on the door until he finally lets you in.

If you were hoping for a big confession, you’ll probably be a little disappointed: he’s not the type. But he does let you chastise him for withdrawing like that, finally extracting a promise that he won’t do it again. All the while him thinking that this, too, could be part of his penance. To let the human stay with by your side....but not allow yourself the luxury of what you truly want....why its almost scandalous-

Yup. He’s pale edging himself, and will continue to do so until you finally break down and demand he explain why he’s being so weird. Or until Mindfang loses her patience and tells you herself, if only to get him to stop leaving soliloquies in her DMs. Either way.

Dualscar: Another traditionalist, but he’s never really been lucky enough in love to be that picky about the system he falls under. The last proper, long-lasting quadrant relationship he had was his kismesis with Mindfang, and well.....kind of a funny story how that one went, honestly.

Assuming you’re single, his way forward is pretty easy. He reads up on human romance for 48 hours straight and presumes he knows what the fuck is up. Honestly its not terribly different from moirallegiance in some respects. You’re supposed to uplift your partner, and plenty of sources recommend that your s/o should be your “best friend”. Conversations involving your feelings are a norm, and humans even have the concept of a “fated match”, something pretty integral to Alternian moirallegiance. As for the rest, well, he can lean into some of the redder aspects of his feelings, pull out the old Ampora charm, and leave the rest in Lady Luck’s hands, right?

Right?

Well....for the first few months it works fine. You’ve always been close with Dualscar, felt like you got each other on some level, and to some degree a romantic relationship felt like a natural extension of that. He can be sweet, showers you with gifts, and is good at listening to your problems and letting you bitch without making you feel like you’re burdening him. He’s funny, in a bitchy dad kind of way, and frankly kind of dashing. 

But something’s off. You notice he seems to shrink down a little bit when you try to get a bit more physical with him. Not like he dislikes it, necessarily, more like he’s...confused. While you feel closer with him than ever, there’s none of those flowery declarations you find tucked in his journal, dedicated to great loves in his past. Even on your end, you feel like you still just think of him as like.....a best friend, but more so somehow? Being romantic with him as you would be with a human feels...wrong, You reflect each other so well and so closely that its like you’re a piece of each other, and calling him your boyfriend feels like trying to call yourself your own boyfriend.

The truth comes out when you try to break up with him and in a panic he explains himself to you. Running through a long (and somewhat incoherent) crash course on troll romance, with a special focus on moirallegiance. He’s stumbling over his words (unusual when he’s sober), half waiting for your eyes to widen in shock and for you to end things forever.

So imagine his shock when you blink a few times and say “why the hell didn’t you just say so?”

As Peixes would say later, “L-Eave it to an Ampora to mak-E s)(it way mor-E glubbin complicat-Ed t)(an it n-E-Eds to b-E.”

[malethirsty]

Californication: Reloaded [Hank Moody]

Hell-In-One

Summary: Following your one night stand with Hank, you attempt to keep your distance to minimize the impact. However a run in with the ex could cause the biggest of impacts

Warnings: M/M smut (21+), Bareback (Wrap Before You Tap!), Daddy Kink

You & Hank sat at the same table at Reublique, trying to work out the predicament you had gotten yourselves into. “At least there aren’t any press around chasing authors tonight” Hank said lightly, trying to attain a positive mood, it didn’t work. “That was a massive gamble!” You said back “I thought you were rich and could bribe the CCTV off, but the press? Hank you know they don’t care, they’d publish pics with ‘Hank Moody Seen Getting Cozy With Daughter’s Best Friend: Scandal, Shock, Intrigue!’” “I know that! If it got out, my divorce settlement would be on the rocks!” “Then why did you arrange it?” You asked “Because I don’t do things lightly in life, you need to live a little.”

You both steadied your breathing. “So what do we do now?” Hank asked “I guess we wait for a bit, step back & re evaluate our situation, see if we want to move forward.” He swallowed at your statement. “I guess so” he begrudgingly said, you partly wanted to ask ‘Well what do you think?!’ But didn’t want to run after him, so you kept it down. “So what is with your Writer’s Block that you & Becca were talking about?” Hank turned the coversation to his struggles and the matter was dropped. Two hours in and you’d only gotten a bit more forwards with his writing, however you planned to have him go from there as you decided to give him space, so he and you could relax.

A week into this and things instead of getting better, had only gotten worse. You became withdrawn from everything, not even your own songwriting could be fixed, it was as if Hank’s writers block was contagious. Hank, it had been a while since you shared as much as a conversation, yet you ached for him so much. “What’s up Y/N?” Becca’s voice asked from nowhere “The damn ceiling” you responded sardonically “Woah! What’s with the tone?” Becca responded, a bit taken aback. ‘How can I broach this with her?’ You thought ‘“I fucked your dad who could have gotten his sexcapade with me caught by the paps, his divorce pushed back, his property and cash swindled & my friendship with you broken.” How the hell could you say that?’ Luckily you didn’t have to “Did your hookup not go so well.” She inquired “Something along those lines yes.” “What happened? He had B.O.? Bad breath? No respect for you?” “What? No!” “Then what?” Becca said, crossing her arms, you knew you had to phrase this properly so to spare Hank “He’s famous Becca” her eyes widened “And?! Can you not handle someone having all the attention?” You looked scandalised “No!” “Well then, what’s so bad about being famous?” This coversation had you trapped in a whirl, but inthe face of it, you breathed in heavily & continued. “He has a reputation, a reputation he put on the line by buying out Republique. If someone had caught us, everything would have exploded.” “And that’s why you have been distant.” “Yeah, we talked and wanted time to work things out, but that’s the general gist.”

Becca thought about it for a moment and then responded “I think you’ve overreacted a bit” “ME!” You spluttered “You’re meant to be my friend, take my side!” “I am, and I would be amiss if I were to let you let a good man like that slip through your grasp. If he was prepared to do that, he must really give a shit about you. I know you want to look out for people, but I think it’s going to be a detriment in this case. You should call him and explain everything.” “Alright, I’ll do it later.” You said, desperate to avoid her staying with you & finding out the ‘Good Man’ was her dad. “Good. I’m heading out to practice with my band, if I get back & find you haven’t, I’ll call him myself.” Not wanting Becca to set you & her father up, you gulped & pleased her message sunk in, she left.

The only issue was what to say to Hank ‘I’ve changed my mind about it, please dick me down in public’ did not seem the right way to go about it. You were wondering what you could possibly say, when your phone made noise, a notification. Opening it, you grinned at seeing it from Hank, his blog had been updated for the first time in ages, he was getting over or already over his writers block. So you read from his latest post

Hank Hates You All (Blog #1):

A few things I’ve learnt in my travels, through this thing we call life are

#1: A morning of awkwardness is far better than a night of loneliness. #2: While I may not go down in history, I’ll definitely go down on your friend. #3: If you are famous and are going to fuck someone, make sure cameras aren’t going to follow you.

The last point begs the question: Why is society so quick to demonise sex?

As you read through his points, you grinned. It seemed like he had both understood what you were trying to say and was reaching out with his own words. You had bolstered confidence by the end and knew what you had to do. You raced downstairs “Hank, I need to talk to you!” Before getting an eyefull of a naked woman downstairs who was coated with black diamonds all over her breasts “Oh My God!” You yelled, covering your eyes “What? Who the hell are you!” The women equally shouted back “Y/N, Becca asked me over!” “Oh shit, I remembered her telling me, I thought you went out with her for music stuff.” “I passed, wasn’t up for it. With all these questions, can I ask why there are black diamonds on your tits?” “A Hell-In-One, the beauty parlour vajazzles diamonds onto peoples beeasts, there is a option if getting black diamonds all applied at once, all black, like a spooky theme.” “Well who are you trying to impress? Tim Burton?” You exasperatedly said “No, I asked my new boyfriend here in advance so I could fuck in my ex husband’s house, like a free living thing.” Husband? Oh no, so this must be “Karen? Y/N?” came Hank’s voice. Your vision started to blur and darken.

You woke sometime later, a familiar face above you “Hey there babe.” Came Hank’s voice “You gave us a scare then.” You groaned “That was your ex wife?” “Yeah.” Hank responded “She’s seeing a man called Bill, she’s all set to move on.” “That’s twice I’ve seen a Moody nude. If I see Becca naked, I’m gonna become Amish.” Hank laughed “I might go with you. We’d be away from the press then“ Ouch, that was a sting “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about before I ran into the ‘Hell-In-One’” you shuddered “It’s good I know you’re into men, cause otherwise that shudder could be taken for something worse.” “Well, I read your blog Hank. And I got advice about what to do. And I think that by trying to protect us from ruining things, I might actually be causing problems, cause I’ve been miserable since I wanted space. I’m not sure what it’s like for you, but I would like to give things another chance.”

Hank leant over, kissing you. “You have no fucking idea how happy I am now. I’ve tried to write, drink & watch my Cinemax porn, but I always get brought back to you.” “I shudder to ask but what was it about?” “This time it was a scientology themed one called Pussy Impossible? Talking about how difficult it could be to get laid in that place.” “Was it from David Miscaviage’s POV cause after he offed his wife, no reasonable women would go near him.” “I think you’re giving the women of that place credit they don’t have.” You both grinned and laughed at this point, the good emotions finally came flooding back, like when the power comes back on after a blackout.

“Well I guess I should let you sleep.” Hank began “No!” You said, startling him “It’s that, I really have missed you Hank, like really have, Can you fuck me?” Hank grinned at you “Well Karen’s gone & Becca is still out practicing, we have the house to ourselves and we can make all the damn noise we want.” You began to rid yourself of all the clothing you had on, Hank yanking his pants down to his feet, his cock flopping out “I usually go commando.” He explained “With a sex presence like yours, you shouldn’t even wear clothes.” You flirted. His cock hardened, it’s pink head becoming visible “God, suck daddy’s cock.” Hank groaned, you obeying almost immediately.

You spent a while sucking Hank off, making the man moan and groan as you paid attention to his head & rolled his balls, making him moan in appreciation “Keep that up & I’ll cum.” An idea forming in your head, you kept going, Hank attempted to pull you off but you stayed “Y/N, don’t you want me to fuck you? I’ll blow in a moment and it takes a-ah- a while for me to get hard again.” You nodded on his cock, humming a bit which caused Hank to throw his head back and let multiple curses and your name flow from his mouth as he shot his load down your throat. You pulled away “Taste’s like cherries daddy, must be all the alcohol.” Hank’s legs shook causing him to fall on the bed “Fuck, that’s the best head I’ve had in years!” You grinned making sure he was paying attention, you slid your finger down your face as if to clean it off which made Hank grin. “What a fucking slut you are for daddy.” He grinned, kissing you again. After a while, Hank’s cock got hard again, he sat up & pulled his shirt partly over his neck, tasing your hole “Could you picture the press snapping pics at what we’re doing right now?” “Oh fuck me already.” You groaned “You got a gag order on the writers?” “I’ll be getting a gag order on you for the rest of the week if you don’t start fucking me!” You snapped back “You are one kinky bitch” Hank groaned in lust as he finally began to fuck you. His pace was sharp & reverberated around the room, you moaning out as Hank made love to you.

“Yeah that’s it! Move back onto Daddy’s cock & take it all balls deep!” Hank moaned & you obeyed him wholeheartedly. You arched your back which allowed him to fuck more, making him groan at all the tightness he was slamming into. “Fuck, I know I’ve said it before, but FUCKING HELL you are tighter than Karen, holy shit! How are you still so tight?” “I haven’t fucked anyone since you, so I’ve had time to heal I guess.” “Well, I’ll be taking that tightness away soon, cause I’m not going that long between fucking you again!” You enthusiastically threw yourself back, causing you both to groan “Oh yeah! You’re daddy’s good boy! Fuck yourself on my cock!” The filth spewing from Hank’s mouth was never ending & you were gonna keep it that way.

Somehow stretching your legs wider, Hank got deeper, his moans becoming breathier, you could tell he wouldn’t last much longer. “Fuck, Y/N, I’m gonna come!” You nodded, breathless to say anything else. Hank wanked your cock, making you moan, eyes rolling back into your head as you shot your load “So fuckin’ good babe! You’re clenching around me so tight, I’m gonna fucking blow, OH YES!” Hank roared out as he shot his load deep into your ass. Moaning out, Hank fell right onto you, you were strong enough to toss him aside back first “Don’t crush me! Death by daddy is not how I wanna go down.” Hank laughed “Well I now know you don’t wanna go down, but I like it.” You rolled your eyes “Well I know you like-Oh!” You groaned out as Hank began to eat you out, tasting his shot load. “It really does taste like cherry, except muskier.” You laughed as Hank fell back first, needing some time before a much needed next round. You both happily groaned out a “Fuck!”

[keelywolfe]

Drabble: Last Minute Gift (baon)

Summary:  A prequel to the main series, Sans has some thoughts about the Gyftmas season.

Note: One last short for the holiday season. Warnings for Kustard and for Mature Content, plus some very slight consent issues. Red and Sans, really? This is what you give me for the holiday?

Tags:  Kustard, Pre-Spicyhoney, Angsty, Definitely before Sans finally decided to go to therapy. 

Read it on AO3

or

Read it here!

~~*~~

It was their second winter on the surface, them and the skeletons who were and weren’t them, and Sans’d gotten pretty used to his particular brand of the clone war hanging around the house. Paps wouldn’t have wanted it any other way; he took particular delight in their unexpected family and he always invited them over for all the holidays, but especially this one.

Gyftmas in Snowdin hadn’t ever been quite this crowded. All of them sitting around the tree in a nest of torn wrapping paper, sipping their eggnog and going for that holiday joy.

Well, almost all of them.

The house was loaded with happy cheer, fa la la la la, and his bro was the coolest, no question, throwing the best Gyftmas party in town and yet, Sans couldn’t exactly blame Red for needing to take a minute for himself.

For starters, even he was starting to get a little nauseated by the way Edge and Stretch kept up with the snarling flirtation, circling each other like dogs in heat. Be a relief when the two of them finally caught a clue and shacked up, but until then, it left the rest of them vicariously stuck in their mean little seduction cycle, listening to every tease disguised as an insult, every snipe that begged for a kiss.

Yeah, if that was his bro, Sans would’ve taken a smoke break, too.

All the others were getting into a loud, cheerful argument over whether to watch a holiday movie or trying again to play Pictionary, hopefully this time without any damage to home or furniture, hell, they only had three fire extinguishers. Most of ‘em were, anyway, Stretch was looking a lot like he wanted a smoke break of his own, but Blue had confiscated his ciggies after his fourth one for the night, because long-term avoidance was only allowed for the family member who was the least house-trained and might damn well bite if anyone went for his nicotine.

Couldn’t be allowed for the whole night, though, and Sans gave Red about twenty minutes before he went after him, partly to get his own minute of peace but also, if he didn’t then Edge would and that was likely to start another ‘whose a shittier brother argument’ with him and Stretch. Seriously, he’d seen enough foreplay between those two for the day, thanks.

No one gave him so much as a glance as he slipped out the front door to the strains of Bing Crosby and amicable squabbling. The cold winter air felt good against his overheated face and Sans took a minute to breathe it in before trying on his Sherlock Holmes. Not that Red was too hard to find. A lack of extra footsteps through the snow led him to the cleared area between the house and the garage, and he could see the dim glow of Red’s cigar, smell the bitter musk of the smoke.

“done hiding out here?” Sans asked. “only, i think your bro is noticing a you-shaped hole in there, might want to fill it for him.” His own cigarettes were in his pocket, but he didn’t reach for them. Only watched Red exhale a pale cloud, his gaze flicking over Sans and who knew what indecencies Red was reading off his bones; Sans could read into the souls of anyone at all except his own and maybe that’s why Red’s was inscrutable to him.

No need to think about any of that shit right now, though, was there? Nope. All he was doing was making sure his bro’s party went off without a hitch and he wasn’t gonna let Red’s shitty attitude ruin it.

Red stuck his cigar between his teeth, grinning around it, “except you’re the one who joined the search party. wassamatter, miss me already?”

“what i’ll miss is not having a steady stream of bullshit in the air,” Sans scoffed. “but it’ll keep your bro quiet and my bro happy. you can call it a late gyftmas present.”

“yeah?” Smoke was trailing from Red’s eye sockets and it only emphasized how much his eye lights burned like coals. “but you didn’t get me a present, did ya, sansy?”

“guess i forgot. should’ve gotten your list to santa a little earlier,” Sans said lightly. “but then, i got a pretty good idea of how naughty you were this year, don’t i.”

Sans was pretty sure he didn’t mean to say it like that, as an unintentional goad. A reminder of how they’d fucked around a coupla times this summer while they were overseas. Ain’t much to the story, a drunken handjob once or twice at night when they were sick to their souls of playing nice around the Human politicians. Not here, though, never here at home, that shit was for strange places and times, any bitchy port in a shitstorm. So he wasn’t expecting the hands that reached out, grabbing a vicious fistful of his hoodie to swing him around, wasn’t expecting to get slammed into the house and Red pushed hard against him, holding him face first against the siding. Instinct was to shortcut, stifled sharply enough that he felt the burn of aborted magic, tasted it raw at the back of his throat.

“maybe i’ll take my present,” Red said roughly. He crowded in against Sans’s back, heavy against him, all the layers of his thick coat and clothes meant nothing as he ground their hips together, one hand reaching between Sans’s legs and cupping his crotch with rude intensity. “maybe this’s the gift i’ve been waiting for.”

“do i get a say in this? asking for a friend, just curious if i’m allowed to say no.” Absurdly petulant, strengthless and useless, like every other fucking thing in his life. As if his cock wasn’t already throbbing like a wound, bound by frustrating layers of fabric between it and Red’s hand.

“you sayin’ it?” Hot breath against his cervical vertebrae and that hand didn’t move, holding perfectly still even as Sans’s hips got sick of waiting for permission and tried to lurch into his grip.

Yeah, about that. Sans squirmed halfheartedly against the weight hemming him in and didn’t say a damned word. Too fucking late, his body was offering a strenuous, mute protest at the very thought and he was already het up on the giddiness of risk; anyone could come out here, Edge on a mission to find his bro, Stretch sneaking off for a cig, even his own brother finally missing him. But the momentum was already skittering dangerously out of control. Maybe it had since Sans took his first step out the door.

Just because the laughter was silent didn’t mean Sans couldn’t hear it, but fuck, it was hard to hear anything over the creaking sound of his own bones, flexing hard as Red’s hand wormed through the tangle of his shorts to grip him in cold, clawed fingers. Strangling tight around his cock and it was probably the only thing that kept him from coming right then.

The freezing house siding was warming beneath his cheek bone, leaving trails of snowmelt to run down his face. Red’s hand moved on him in quick, jerky strokes and dimly Sans could hear him breathing heavily, pressed hard against his back and there was nothing but hot breath and cold air and fuck, Red jerking him like the fucking bastard he was, too good, too, too fucking good, and if there was a difference between want and need in that moment, Sans didn’t know it.

Sans groaned through his teeth as he came, too loud in the still air and a hand fumbled over his mouth, a sharp hiss by his head of “shut up!” but he couldn’t, he couldn’t. Probably didn’t last for fifteen seconds but Sans was coming hard, crashing through his floodgates, and it’d been so fucking long, not since those drunken moments last summer. Left him stunned and sagging and he would’ve fallen to his knees if Red wasn’t holding him up, would’ve had to come up with a cheap explanation for snow-wet shorts.

“yeah, that’s it,” Red whispered roughly. “that’s it, just like that.” His hand didn’t stop, still squeezing and stroking until Sans winced, pushing it away.

He was still loose-limbed and lost when Red hauled him around, shoving him roughly up against the side of the house again. But not so much that Sans couldn’t turn his head away from the kiss that tried to descend on him, the sharp grin on Red’s mouth widening like he didn’t even mind.

“okay, sansy, have it your way.” Red let him go and Sans slid down a couple inches before he caught himself, braced against the aluminum siding. Red wiped his hand on his shorts, leaving wet smears that showed no color against his dark fabric which was a good fucking thing because he didn’t want to see Red try to explain why it looked like he’d had a pen explode in his pocket. He turned towards the house, tossing back over his shoulder, “thanks for the present.”

Sans didn’t move until he heard the front door opening, the brief burst of chaotic cheer escaping, cut off as the door closed again. Only then did he reach for his cigarettes, ignoring the trembling in his hands as he lit one and took a long, deep drag.

Yeah, so, that happened.

Inside, his brother was probably still glowing with happiness of the success of his Gyftmas party and Sans wasn’t about to let anything interfere with the joy to his world. He was gonna finish his ciggie, head back in, and see what way he felt like swaying the vote for Pictionary. No rule said he had to think about this shit for any longer than necessary, was there? Nope.

Wasn’t even the worst Gyftmas present of his life, not even close, and he was gonna stop thinking about that right fucking now.

Sans stubbed out his cigarette and headed back inside and if he pointedly didn’t look at Red, or talk to him, or even get fucking near him, eh.

Of all their shared talents, the one of refusing to see what was right in front of their face seemed like a universal trait.

-finis-

[invertedfate]

Random Ask Dump - Anniversary Edition (50+ REALLY OLD ASKS!)

Going through OLD AND CRUSTY ASKS to try and chip away at the inbox. HERE WE GOOOO...

That’s an interesting idea, and I could run it by Cake, but I think it would honestly be a LOT to track from a programming perspective. Especially ‘cause killing Sans is gonna result in a “bad ending,” so to speak.

An attempt was made by Undyne to have all three hang out at the same time. Papyrus was SUPER EAGER. ...but one thing led to another and there were many messy explosions of chemicals and lots of smoke. Alphys had to step in before things got out of hand. It was all very daunting for her. Pap and Undyne are VERY LOUD, VERY AMBITIOUS PEOPLE.

I actually have some ideas of some side comics I may do at some point! :o It’s just that right now there’s a lot going on.

I need to poke Carni about that at some point. He’s just been very busy with other projects!

Clearly he’s standing on the “out to lunch” sign.

I wanna say that it’s very possible in theory. :o It probably affects them differently since monsters’ emotional state affects their magic and their physical state.

I do like little easter eggs like that, though I’m not sure where I’d fit it in atm just ‘cause I already showed Pap’s room, haha.

I made the chase theme for Mad Dummy as well as Mad Mew Mew’s battle theme. @pinewsun​ made the battle theme for Mad Dummy, and @thomasthepencil​ made the Season Dude battle theme and MD’s overworld theme. :o

That’s a really fascinating conundrum! You’re absolutely right- if IF was a standalone game, then from a writing standpoint, having more subtle implications would make sense! The reason I chose a different approach for IF is because it’s set after Flowey’s already known to be evil and I like to give different POVs rather than stick to just Frisk’s.

That’s an interesting thing, actually- both fights lean heavily on the fourth wall. Both are treated as climaxes for their given routes. It’s funny because Asriel’s fight is a lot more straightforward and less meta by comparison.

I agree! The thing with Papyrus is that he’s extremely powerful- he just doesn’t want to kill. But it’s a deliberate choice not to kill- he’s able to force his attacks to do next to no damage. He’s also pretty darn crafty, as he made the Gauntlet himself. It really is just a case of Undyne’s personal biases and concern for him.

That was a deliberate choice. :O Papyrus is very influential toward Frisk. He is best skeleboi.

Papybot loves you, anon! He just wants to feed you WHOLESOME SPAGHETTI!!!

It is possible to whistle through teeth. ...alternatively, magic. As for the music, Undertale implies that the music is heard! Maybe it’s just... a thing that exists in this world. Or it’s just meant to be a silly meta joke. I try to keep it somewhat ambiguous other than occasional nods to it. Chara’s pants are lighter because I just... felt like it, I guess? Haha. I wanted their feet and pants to stand out more from each other, so they have khaki pants. As for the Undyne fight being animated, well, this ask is old by now, but Sparks was the one who was down for it.

Well, the teaser’s been out for a long time now, but that’s the idea! It’s also why this has been in production for so long. The Determinator has some really over the top attacks (that weren’t even shown in the teaser), and Sparks animated in Photoshop. That’s how hardcore he is.

Shhhhh. Don’t give me ideas. I’m already slacking on Tem Village. :P

Sometimes I do have slumps and burnouts (see Antipode’s lengthy hiatus), but breaks lead to me being refreshed and coming back with even more enthusiasm than before!

Oh, there are a lot of these throughout the comic. For instance...

Flowey appears in a few background shots in the Ruins!

When Sans says “or maybe...” he looks at the empty flower pot. This was one of the earliest bits of foreshadowing about who created Flowey, and nobody noticed it at the time!

The MTT vending machines initially look like this but have helpful items.

And then they look like this, with an angry face and pose- Mad Dummy has possessed them!

As of Part 38, it’s been revealed that he did first meet Asgore as “Santa.” As for whether or not he knows the truth, time will tell. :o

Oh, these are excellent suggestions for calls! I’ll try to keep these in mind.

So, I believe Glyde uses the Mysterious Door motif. Jerry uses the motif in its battle theme- I believe it’s a mix of original motif and Wrong Number song?

Sans is a master of power napping. He probably gets a decent amount of sleep, though.

There are a lot of ways to interpret Pap’s lack of sleep! In IF, he can get by without it, but he also has a lot of reasons to avoid sleeping. Some reasons include productivity but also due to a looooot of heavy baggage. More on that later.

I think sleep can definitely make monsters healthier. Rest = better mental health as well as physical health, and with how important mental and emotional help is for monsters, that’s very important!

They just really like socks. Socks are warm. Socks are slinky. And googly eyes are the best. So they took on the form of a really eccentric sock puppet and sock collector. Scandalous.

It also has Alphys’ motif, as the two are the leaders of the royal guard!

I would say the lack of Asgore as an influence has left Undyne slightly less grounded? Like, she had Toriel and Gerson in her life, but her relationship with Toriel is... definitely not quite as close? Like, Toriel by that point kept people at an arm’s length due to losing multiple children (including one from old age). So, while they were on friendly terms until the aftermath of the DT experiments and the tapes’ release, it was more like mutual respect and a sorta professional relationship with Undyne admiring Toriel and wanting to spare her from more heartache.

That is a really interesting idea. While that didn’t happen, I do need to maybe revisit the grumpy dog at some point or another. He’s still a lil’ salty.

I think in terms of layout it won’t change much, but there will be new/different content for sure. :O

Mad Dummy’s base design is mostly original, but she has a wig + headband from DIO from Jojo Part 3! Fun fact: While MTT has Kamina shades, Papyrus’ goggles are loosely based on Simon from Tengen Toppa Gurren Lagann in terms of color. :O

So basically, when Asriel defeated Frisk, he had the power over the timeline to reset it as he pleased- in theory. However, that power was overwhelming for him, and due his lack of understanding OF said power and one last ditch attempt at resisting from Chara, things went wrong.

There is a track that takes some inspiration from Rage Awakened. It’s not released, and it’s not exact, but it won’t be released for a WHILE. Like until the part comes out.

I think it’s just the fact that tacos are so random. Like, my biggest beef in that regard was that OG Underswap had a lot of arbitrary replacements for things in UT and not all of them made sense. Like, if Sans was to make a foreign food, ramen would’ve made more sense due to Alphys being weeb trash, haha.

Okay, so the rough timeline iiiis... Falling: - Cyan - Green - Orange - Blue - Purple - Yellow Dying: - Cyan - Orange - Blue - Purple - Yellow - Green

You know, it’s funny because this ask is super old, but that’s basically sorta what happened. :O It became a beach-themed resort.

Never forget MTT fangirl Temmie’s pool escapades.

I think Forgespring for me because I had to make the tileset myself (it took a few months, I think?), but Aquarius was definitely in the works for a while. But once I had the tileset from Fours, the rooms were very easy to design!

That woulda been pretty rad! Maybe I can find another spot for it one day, haha.

I think for Dohj, I’d have to check with Fours, but I’m certainly not opposed at some point? Right now, the following chars can take questions: - Frisk - Papyrus - Sans - Undyne - Alphys - Napstablook - Mettaton - Asgore - Chara - Flowey

Cyan appears in Part 45! :O No answer about orange for now, tho.

I do have vague ideas for Tem village. I just haven’t had time to go back and do it.

Stay tuned and you may find out! :O

Hmmmm... I had a lot of fun with MTT SPIRAL and the Determinator, tbh. They were both very time consuming, but I love how they came out! Also, buff Jerry.

Turnabout Storm. :)

It’s a really awesome fan crossover that works way better than it should. :P

None taken! We know that with headcanons, everyone is gonna have their own interpretations. These are just the voices we liked for Fireglobe Production, but everyone has their right to their favored interpretations!

Yeah, Knight Knight is one of the coolest CORE mercs in the original game. It was fun to repurpose them for Inverted Fate as royal guards. :o It made room for unique encounters in the CORE in the form of them robots- as Undyne would rather use machines than other monsters to do her work.

Personally, I see it as an Asriel motif, but I also acknowledge that at one point it WAS gonna be an Asgore motif. Toby has a habit of just using whatever music works for a scene (see sans. at the snail farm.)

I do have a few ideas, though I won’t say for what yet. :o

He’s likely made blueprints for that train. :P

It probably would just have different flavor text/progression!

So basically, I treat the starting motif for BAaTH/Power of NEO is just a “true hero” motif.

MTT is definitely major in IF! As for whether or not he’ll have a hangout, time will tell. There’s definitely more to resolve with him, though.

I’m gonna remake at least a few of the older tracks, including Regret. My goal is just to bring the OST to a similar standard of quality.

So, animated parts coming up: Part 47, Part 49, Part 50. There may be some other parts, but we’re gonna wanna scale things back for a little bit for the sake of all our sanities.

I go with both. ;)

Honestly, probably fairly similar to the bully fight in the Ruins- which is why I ultimately decided not to do one. Both fill similar archetypes, though I think if I did do a battle, I woulda still had Flowey interrupt at the end and scare them off.

It’s a very emotional scene. Far more tragic than her geno death, IMO.

Well, the main goal in that regard is the remasters (Part 9 is in progress). Otherwise, I do think these hiatuses are good for working ahead. I’ve still gotta do more work, though, because my buffer this time around is a lot smaller from the trial-hiatus buffer. Alas!

Honestly, the website is the best thing to happen to IF. It’s allowed us to do so much with the comic’s presentation that would be impossible with imgur. NORIX IS THE BEST...

[hes-writer]

Just A Little Bit of Your Heart (2)

Summary: Harry and Y/N are in an open relationship

Warnings: angst and a teensy bit of smut?

Word Count: 4870 words

A/N: unedited cause it’s late at night but I wanna post it now so I could read your guys’ comments tomorrow morning :)

Y/N woke up with no indents of Harry’s body creased on the navy blue sheets of their bed, indicating that he didn’t come home last night and probably spent the rest of the evening at some lesser known hotel to avoid the attention. She sighed, already used to it but the stabbing pain in her chest didn’t come any softer. She had just woken up and her mood was ruined, but she knew she couldn’t let this affect her for the whole day.

Y/N slipped her feet into the fuzzy slippers by her side of the bed, feet shuffling lazily on the hardwood flooring leading to the bathroom where she freshened up for the day. Grabbing her towel, she hung it on the rack before sliding the glass door of the standing shower to the side to let her hand in through the crack and turn the water knob on. The stream of water took her by surprise, jumping a few centimeters off the ground. Y/N waited until it was warm enough for her liking before stripping off of her pajamas, leaving it huddled on the marble floor.

The hot jets massaged her sore muscles and wiped off the excess makeup that the makeup remover and night wash couldn’t get off. It was relieving, to say the least, and she slowly felt her body relax against the open air of the shower space. While cleaning her body with soap, she was taken by surprise when a gruff voice cut off her slightly off time singing and cold arms wrapping themselves around her body.

“Hey love,” Harry murmured against the name of her neck.

She turned around to face him, her breath meeting the expanse of his tanned chest. Y/N inspected his face; glowing and bright. Although she was happy that his skin was thriving, the reasoning behind as to why that was was something that Y/N wasn’t ready to proclaim.

“When did you get home?” Y/N littered small kisses on his jawline, feeling the rough stubble of his five o’clock shadow.

“Couple of minutes ago,” He answered, tilting his head up to catch the water on his mop of hair, getting the strands wet and damp.

Y/N caught sight of the dark hickeys dotted on his neck–and chest–to which she hadn’t seen earlier because of his unexpected arrival. The lighting glimmered a new area of his skin where marks of infidelity decorated him. Some of them were bruised while others were a light shading of red—but all of them proved that Harry did shag the woman in the red dress last night. Somehow, Y/N had convinced herself to always see the good in Harry and that meant creating scenarios where he rejects any women who weren’t her in their advances. She was sadly disproven once again.

Harry looked down at her when he felt her fingers tracing the bruises, hissing slightly when she tapped a bit harsher than usual. In an odd way, Y/N felt a sense of smugness knowing that he was hurting. She saw it as a way of punishing him for being away from her for another night. Another lonely time laying in bed where she wondered what she could’ve done better.

“Ouch!” He wheezed, wincing at the pain when she pressed on the purple one by his left pec.

Y/N ignored his complaint, advising him to turn around so she could clean his back off the sweat and brine that must’ve built up in the span of twenty-four hours. What she saw made her gasp; completely horrified by the scarlet lacerated marks striping his back muscles.

“Is it that bad?” His head glanced over his shoulder, trying to catch a glimpse of the traces that caused a dull pain on his back. He knew they were there ever since he woke up this morning with a sore torso. The cab driver he hitched a ride for stared at him from the mirror when Harry jolted his back upright as soon as it rubbed against the leather seat, laughing sarcastically at his pain.

——

“I know who you are,” The driver uttered, eyes catching his green ones once in a while. “Does your lady know about this?”

Harry fumed as he was not ready for the mimicry this early in the morning, “Please keep quiet. I’m paying you for your service,”

——

Yes, it was pretty bad. If anything, it looked like a rabid cat scratched its claws deep into his soft skin and ripped the first surface, resulting in welts. Y/N thought that some of them were even bleeding.

“Very bad,”

Harry and YN dried themselves off a few minutes later. Harry carefully patting his body dry to not irritate the swollen skin.

Y/N instructed him to lay down on the bed so that she could rub some ointment on the welt marks. “I hate this,”

Harry hummed in response, completely clueless as to what she was talking about. “What do you hate?”

“The marks, the hickeys and the scratches, H” She spoke mindlessly, her fingertip acquiring a penny sized amount.

“Are you saying you want to end this?” This, as in, the open relationship they’d placed upon them self. Either one of them could stop it at any time but Y/N couldn’t bring herself to hold her ground. They’ve not been like a normal couple in ages and if they did stop this, it would be difficult to act all sweetly—like they didn’t just love on another body weeks previous.  “Y/N?”

She shook her head, “N-no I don’t” and she hated herself for being so weak–despite what the media made her out to be–because she was hurting twofold but seeing Harry take full advantage of their agreement made her feel guilty for taking away something that he enjoyed in his life. “I just don’t like how they leave marks on you,”

Harry scoffed, “Sorry, some of them like it rough,”

She pinched his skin between her fingers causing him to groan in pain.

“I don’t even know who they are but they always find a way to make themselves known,” Y/N said sadly.

She wasn’t stupid—of course, he was seeing people behind her back (and right in front of her) but if she didn’t know their name or saw how they looked like—she could pretend that they weren’t real and it made her feel a bit better; delusional, but better. But seeing his skin tainted with their wake left her astonished at how gradually pieces of Harry was being taken from her hold. His heart was still hers—as far as she was concerned—but his body was being metaphorically split between women that she didn’t know. Y/N was sharing her love with people who mostly only slept with him for the sake of it—because of who he was and not because they shared the intimate affections that her and Harry once gave to each other.

———-

It was a stupid idea; emphasis on stupid. Looking back in retrospect, there were better ways to handle what had happened between the two of them. Y/N came home one day tired from shooting scenes for her new movie. One click to her phone downed her mood even more because of the news that Harry had been papped with Kendall at a club. Now, of course, they’ve had talks about who to and not trust but the pictures spoke for themselves.

“What is this?” She said sternly as soon as Harry entered the doorway of their bedroom.

“I’m guessing you saw,”

“Of course I did,” Y/N crossed her arms across her chest, standing up from her having her legs crossed. “Care to explain yourself?”

“I didn’t cheat on you,” He noted right away.

She nodded, a small breath of relief made its way out of her mouth, “That’s good to know,”

“I almost did, though” Harry admitted, eyes searching hers for some sort of emotion that he could use to justify his actions. Just like that, the weight on her shoulders dropped heavily.

“Y-you what?”

He sighed, closing the gap between them and taking her hands into his large palms. “I’m not gonna lie to you, Y/N. I almost kissed Kendall today, plenty of times actually, but I didn’t.”

Y/N rolled her eyes at him, “So what? Should I be grateful that you didn’t kiss her?”

“That’s not what I’m saying,” He answered, voice deepening in a tenor note, “I thought about it long and hard on the way home,” She cocked an eyebrow at him to continue. “I think it’s better if we break it off,”

“Break it off?” Y/N repeated, annunciating his words. No matter how infuriated she was at him, she didn’t think she could handle breaking up with Harry.

He gulped, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat, “If I was having thoughts about kissing another girl, then maybe … maybe it would be best if we broke up,” Harry explain his thoughts briefly, “I wouldn’t want to cheat on you either,”

“Do you like her?”

Harry’s curls bounced when he shook his head, “Do you still love me?” He nodded, “Then why are you leaving me?”

His palm glossed over his angelic features, “I just wanted to try kissing her,”

“That’s absolutely ridiculous,” Y/N concluded. What kind of sick joke was he playing at?

“I know it’s crazy but please try to understand. I’m trying to figure this out too,”

And from then, she briefly remembered her old self suggesting an open relationship. Her friend had talked about it once before, indicating that it was the best decision she’d ever made in her life. Both partners were free to fuck and kiss any other person but their hearts were still loyal to each other. Y/N found it quite concerning as she believed that if two people really loved each other—then they would give everything in exchange, even their bodies and not just their hearts. However, it also gave both parties freedom and liberation to explore something that their current partners might not be into—it was something that greatly defined Y/N and causes her to shiver in disgust. Sure, she preferred as others would call ‘vanilla’ sex most of the time, but that was only because she would like to be cared for in her most vulnerable moments; she didn’t know that it would be the cause of a massive downfall in her and Harry’s relationship.

They were both busy and it was pretty accurate. Y/N didn’t have enough time for Harry and Harry certainly didn’t make her feel any special in the few months leading up to their decision of such a relationship. So it was no surprise that Harry jumped at the opportunity when she suggested it. His eyes twinkled in delight and his smile held a certain degree of mischief that would soon be expressed in rough fucking the next day. Needless to say, YN had to sit through the story of how Harry absolutely ruined Kendall (in terms of orgasms). She didn’t ask, but he was too excited to thank her for her suggestion. The marks on his hips confirmed his words and truth to be told, she almost gagged while Y/N was riding him.

She felt absolutely used and dirty knowing that another woman had touched him the way she was doing it right now and he didn’t even seem bothered! The bliss on his face kept her going, hoping that he would cease his actions right at the beginning and realize that he didn’t need other women because Y/N was there for him—in more ways than one.

Obviously, it didn’t.

——

As soon as pictures of Shawn and Y/N were released on the Internet, there was no doubt that Harry’s blood boiled upon seeing it.  His eyes widened at the phone screen and he gaped at Y/N getting dressed at one corner of the room while sat back the bed with his legs stretched out. Of course, they were going to be leaving with each other; Harry saw the looks they gave one another. How dare she lecture him about the marks on his body when she herself was getting tainted?

He was agitated, to say the least—nostrils flaring wild with thoughts building on top of one another and he couldn’t help but say, “How was Shawn last night?”

Y/N paused all her actions, slowly turning around with a confused face, “What do you mean?”

“Oh come on, Y/N,” Harry chuckled sarcastically. “He fucked you last night, didn’t he? Was he good?”

“Harry, wha–? He took me home because he saw that you left and–,”

“No need to lie. I saw the pictures,” Rolling his eyes, he fumbled with his phone to turn the brightness up, “I always tell you about my escapades, why don’t you tell me any of yours?” He questioned, leaning over to show her the pictures dating from last night.

Because I don’t have any ‘escapades’, she thought.

“It’s because I haven’t slept with anyone,”

Harry furrowed his brows, forehead scrunching, “In a while?”

She shook her head, stammering a bit from her unplanned confession, “N-no, in ever,” Her fingers twist the button of her jeans, tightening the fabric around her waist, the blouse she’d picked for today matched the black denim; everything went well the dark jeans. “I haven’t slept with anyone except you,”

He gasped incredulously, “Really?” He then doubled over in cackling laughter, “That’s a funny joke, now tell me the truth. How many has it been? 3? 5?” He muttered while counting on his fingers, “I know mine is at least 23, plus last night would be 24,”

Y/N shifted her soles uncomfortably in her socks. She definitely didn’t need to know how many women Harry had fooled around with, she didn’t even need to see him recount every one of them in perfect memory as if they all did something memorable to him.

—-

Harry was taken aback at her confession. He figured that Y/N must’ve fooled around with somebody else at least once. Now he didn’t know if she was lying about the number of her flings to make him feel guilty because he had taken full advantage of what this relationship had to offer.

Deep inside, he knew that if she did begin to talk about other men like he did with women–he wouldn’t be able to handle the jealousy bubbling inside of him. It’s not like he could control what he says any better either; it would be a big mess. All in all, he was glad that she avoided talking about men in front of him.

He can always claim to love her–he does, by the way–but at times he gets antsy in his pants because she could walk in the door at any time and break it off with him. Even though his body was not entirely hers, his heart was a piece of him that she will forever carry in her dainty hands. He had decided long ago that nobody took better care of him other than Y/N, and he was eternally grateful for her ability to withstand his mistakes and misfortunes.

Harry didn’t like the idea of his girl hanging around with other guys and he was aware that Y/N wasn’t too fond of him being around various women often. However, both of them were too coward to actually say something to each other. They knew each other very well, but not at this topic. This topic was blurry and foggy, and they had no sense of what to do to stop this. Both of them would probably project their feelings and ideas to one another, and it would only create an even bigger mess because their pride was too huge to push aside.

The fact the Y/N doesn’t share about her experiences caused Harry to think of the worst, that being that her tendency to not make him a part of it meant that she must be doing it secretly– as if he was doing it behind his back, times two. If Y/N did go out with another guy, she was doing it very sneakily as the press hadn’t caught her and her arm candy. She must be going out on dates when he was out of the house. Maybe she even brought them back in their home and fucked them on the marble kitchen counter. Not once had she called about canceling dinner plans or meetings so she must be doing it while Harry was off fucking the brains out of some random chick whom he’d have to force to sign an NDA later on.

It worried him sometimes if the person she was with treated her right. Y/N wasn’t the type of girl that you hump and dump; if the articles were right about something, it would be that she was the kindest, most humble woman in the business that you would probably feel physically sick if you made a frown etched on her face. He knew he had no right to swipe left on who she wanted to see, much like how he preferred for her to stay out of his decisions on who take home at night.

—-

It was the third day in a row where Harry forgot to pick up Y/N on set. He was on a break from writing and basically everything so it shouldn’t be too much of a problem to get a sense of time and pick up his girlfriend from her filming location. She was sitting at the black leather seats at the front lobby of the building, dressed in the outfit she left in earlier this morning. Her hair was done up in the ’70s do to get the vibe of the part she was supposed to play. All Y/N wanted was to wash the hairspray off of her hair and wipe the makeup from her face, but she couldn’t do that unless she was home. There were already some fans outside the tinted glass windows who caught wind of her whereabouts and she had already interacted with them.

Still no Harry.

“Hey Y/N. Sorry, I’m late,” Harry huffed, his hair wildly curly for it to be the work of the spring breeze. There were marks on his neck and his pupils were blown wild. Of course.

As much as she felt repulsed at his audacity to show up late looking he had just had the best fuck of his life, all Y/N really wanted to do was eat some dinner and cuddle with him–after he had taken a shower.

“It’s fine,” She muttered quietly, voice a little hoarse from how much she had to rehearse to get her lines accurate. “‘M tired.” Burying her head on his chest was a giant mistake because as soon as she was in proper distance from him, a sweet scent hit her nostrils and her earlier suspicion was confirmed.

“Aw bub, how about we go home, hmm?” He felt her head nodding against his shirt causing him to look down at her in admiration. She was such a hard-working woman who was determined to achieve greatness. “Let’s go,”

Upon settling in Harry’s car, Y/N lazily buckled in her safety belt and sat patiently while Harry rounded the front of the vehicle to get to the other side. He opened the door and got comfortable as well before starting the roar of the engine and shifted the gear to reverse, pulling out of his parking space.

“So I was thinking maybe we could cook dinner together,” She started. “We’ll cook your favorite, then we can watch a movie in bed while cuddling like we used to.” Y/N’s eyes softened at the thought of being affectionate with Harry. “What do you say, H?”

He hummed in response, not saying much else. Y/N assumed it was because of the heavy traffic that kept his attention on the road. She didn’t mind though, just knowing that his presence with near her made her feel warm and fuzzy on the inside. They hadn’t been together much, not even at nights where it should be reserved. He was always off staying at some lady’s chateau and as much as she was glad that he was safe; she wished and preferred that he would–one day–pick their home as a safe haven.

Y/N must’ve taken a bit of nap because she was woken up with a slight shake to her shoulder. Harry smiled at her gently, informing her that they were home. She adjusted her eyes to the bright space of their house, lights guiding the way to the cobblestone pathway to the front door. She grasped the handle of the car, pulling it towards her while using her other hand to push the entrapment in order to exit. Y/N was about to swing her legs over the seat when she realized that Harry was entitled to his phone which was buzzing repeatedly in his hand.

“H?” Y/N called out but to no avail. He was biting his lip, tearing the skin slightly. “Harry?” She questioned again but all she received was the soft purr of the engine. “Harry!”

The rising volume of her voice snapped him out of his electronic trance, “Yeah?”

Y/N scoffed to herself, rolling her eyes minutely before asking: “What do you say about dinner?”

“Oh, uhm, I think it would be a great idea but–,”

“Great! Then we can pick a movie and cuddle afterward, yeah?” She interrupted, feeling excitement vibrating through her bones.

“Actually, I’m busy tonight,” He admitted sheepishly, dimple popping in a slight indent. “Maybe some other time?”

His answer got Y/N speechless and her mouth was dropping open and closed in a matter of seconds. “Where are you going? Is there something wrong?” The concern in her voice was enough to make him feel a bit guilty.

“No actually– I uh–,” The buzz of his phone distracted his train of thought and his eyes widened when his thumbprint unlocked his cell. Harry whispered a breathy ‘fuck’, not meaning for Y/N to hear it.

Y/N shifted her hand to rest on the cushion of the car seat, reaching over to grab Harry’s phone from his clutch. She could see his fingers trying to grasp on the air where his phone used to be, his eyes growing wide when he witnessed his girlfriend glance down at the white screen illuminating her face.

It showcased a conversation between him and a girl named Chloe. Y/N inspected the messages they had sent each other in the past minute and she almost gagged.

***

You think you can sneak away for a bit? Y/N gets to spend almost every day with you! Come on, I can cook you dinner and offer a show…

She rolled her eyes at the atrocity of the message the woman sent, but it wasn’t anything compared to Harry’s reply.

Mm, you definitely know how to persuade someone into giving you what you want. I’ll make something up. I expect you to be waiting for me in an hour or so.

The show would be even better if you wore the white panties you were wearing yesterday

It was a simple request that caused Y/N’s heart to pound for attention to be soothed, yet she couldn’t do anything else but let her thumb scroll down further. A part of her wanted to blow up, throw the phone on the ground and watch it shatter in pieces; much like how her heart felt after comprehending the filthy messages. Another, more sensible, part of her wanted to calmly return his pain-inducing device calmly and not give him the satisfaction of seeing her eyes well up with tears.

Of course, I bought them as per your request. I know white lingerie is your favorite.

It is when I take it off your body,

I need you Harry

Im coming. I expect you to be naked.

Her throat was dry and she still had a bit of trouble understanding the lengths he was willing to go through just to fuck some girl. He was planning on blatantly lying to her about his plans for the evening and showed no hesitation of leaving dear Y/N once again for the umpteenth time.

“I guess I’ll be spending tonight with just me,” Y/N chuckled bitterly, having half the mind on locking his phone to try to erase the messages somehow before handing it back to him. Harry stared at the phone as if it would burn his skin if it touched him; it felt like it to Y/N, too.

She proceeded with her previous actions, stepping off the vehicle and slamming the door shut before Harry could say anything. Y/N fumbled with the keys on the walk over to the front door, rushing to find the right one.  

“Y/N, wait!” Harry pulled on her arm, making her face him. “I-i, you weren’t supposed to see that,” His tone was demeaning as if it was her fault that she was hurt.

“Obviously I wasn’t. What did I expect asking you for dinner and a movie?” She admitted, attitude going down in the dumps and a little sourer. “Guess I’m always last on the list, huh?”

He shook his head fast that it was dizzying, “No you’re not,” She lifted a hand to silence him from his unprepared excuses, “Save it. Just go.”

And with that, Harry was left immobilized on the gravel while Y/N skipped towards the front door. She made eye contact with him before shutting the door against the frame.

—-

Y/N was disheartened that her long and tiring day only sought to be more disappointing than she had expected. How could she ever think Harry would be able to deliver with her request? He was busy pleasing other woman and to even think of satisfying Y/N was swirling down the drain.

She huffed, annoyed at his ability to piss her off every twenty minutes. This was who they were behind closed doors. The speculations of their fans and the prying articles of news outlets could have never guessed that precious Y/N and Harry were not as innocent as they appeared to be. This had been their scenario for the past couple of months. This was them now; this is Harry …

But this isn’t Y/N and maybe it’s time for a change.

As YN picked up the light case of her phone, she tapped unto her contact list and found the name she’d been searching for. He had frequented in dropping hints about how he found her attractive, but of course, Y/N never felt objectified because his charm glazed him with an ability to soften the tough barricades of her heart. He was respectful to her and to Harry and kept his distance away from Y/N even though he was looking at her with lustful eyes during the Nolan premier. His self-control was amazing, Y/N gave him that. The way he focused on her with such an intense gaze made her squirm in her seat and partly wished that it was Harry who couldn’t keep his eyes off her.

There had always been sexual tension present in the air between them, but neither parties acted upon it because of who they were. Not only would it cause a big scandal, but they were afraid that it would ruin their friendship with each other. Y/N cared too much and he would rather have her as a friend if he couldn’t have her as a significant other.

Y/N’s fingers tapped on the keyboard with fresh speed; a sentence that she had never thought should, or be able to type.

“Come over and fuck me.”

She waited until the text was titled ‘sent’, before taking a quick shower and slipping into some white lace lingerie that complimented the curves of her body. Y/N popped the cork of a wine bottle as well, setting it on the bedside table and grabbed to clear glasses in the kitchen. After some time, the doorbell rang and she had sprinted down the stairs, walking the last few meters to catch her breath and swung the door open.

Y/N scanned the man in front of her, dressed in a simple white tee and grey sweats that showed off his bulge that she had wondered about frequently. The shared a small smile with each other, a twinkle in their eyes.

“Hey Shawn,” Y/N greeted before feeling a pair of lips pressed against her own. Her chest landing on his broad pane. Somewhere in the distance, the front door slammed shut and her body got pinned on the wood. He groaned lightly against her mouth when she traced a finger on his neck, grazing over the generic soft spot, feeling him shiver with delight and her lashes flutter on her cheeks.

She should’ve done this sooner.

—-

ok not gonna lie, I feel like I totally rushed this but my schedule is getting busier and busier and I didn’t wanna leave you guys yearning for more so ta-da! :D

I think the 3rd part will contain some filth?? my FIRST smut fix and sksksksk

permanent taglist;  @ynm1505 @kissme-hs @agoddamnmango @harrys-kingdom @calums-sugarbaby @queenbeestuffs @ashkuuuu @kettxo @send-me-styles @ofpeppermintbay @littledreamybeth @trustfulhaz @harrysfeastedflower @harrystxleslx @befourep @moonandstars-xo @babebenhardy @swayingnoodlelove @mendesromano @harrystylinsince1994 4 @juliassgem @miscll-fangirl @little-dragon-ate-my-heart

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​

[heyyyharry]

My Girl Series: Chapter 2 - Homeward Bound

…in which childhood friends meet again, this time, at a funeral.

Series description: Y/N falls in love with the older boy next door who doesn’t feel the same, years later they meet again at a funeral.

AU: actor!harry, older!harry, younger!y/n; (4-year age gap)

Chapter 1 - Treehouse: Y/N falls in love with the older boy next door who doesn’t feel the same.

wattpad link

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Four years had gone by, and the small town called Holmes Chapel had partly faded from Harry's memories. He had his own life now, which was more than the life of any ordinary 22-year-old, and of course, he must make room in his mind for new, bigger, and better things.

Many years ago, had anybody told him he was gonna get a massive movie contract, and turn famous before graduating from university, he would've laughed and called them crazy. Now his face was everywhere on billboards, on televisions, on the internet. People followed him around and took photos of him. He had all the money to spend, got invited to exclusive parties, and won big awards with his name on them. So there was no reason for him to come back to his little house in Holmes Chapel.

His family still lived there, but he flew his mum out to stay in London for most of the time, and his sister now had her own life with a boyfriend. The Styles hadn't sold that house because it still had emotional value to them, but they were rarely there anymore. Harry couldn't even remember most details of his childhood bedroom, let alone the treehouse in his backyard, or the girl who came there every single day, waiting for him to come back.

He did come back. But it was for a different reason, one he had never expected.

A funeral.

.

.

.

"Look at all of these paparazzi on the street."

Celine heaved a sigh as she peeked through the window curtains to take a look. The heavy silence in that living room was the opposite of the loud and intrusive crowd waiting in front of the house next door.

Eighteen-year-old Y/N was sitting on the bottom stair with her head in her hands, her eyes were red and swollen, while another girl was comforting her. The girl was Amala, Celine’s girlfriend. They had been dating since junior year, now both graduated from high school and were still together.

Even though Y/N wasn't the only special girl in Celine’s life anymore, she had never felt deserted, knowing her tiny best friend would always be by her side and she would also do the same. Now with Amala in the picture, the three of them were inseparable. Those two had been Y/N's rock since her mother's death, and she could never thank them enough for just being there for her.

"Why did he have to come back?" Y/N exhaled, fingers gripping her own hair. "I don't want all these people at my mother's funeral."

"Calm down, I'm sure they'll get tired and leave in no time," said Celine, who quickly exchanged looks with Amala, because they both knew those paps wouldn't leave until Harry did.

"Why couldn't he just stay gone?" Y/N mumbled, mostly to herself, and she really meant it. She wished he had never returned. She'd gone as far as avoiding all the news about him and she'd been doing so well in the last four years. But her mother's death seemed to be just the calm before the storm. With his unwanted return, he would bring a whole crowd of people with cameras to her mother's funeral.

"When is Blake gonna be here?" Asked Amala, but Celine shook her head fast to tell her girlfriend not to mention that name. It was too late since Y/N had already heard her.

"He's not coming," she replied, eyes glued to the floor. "We broke up."

The hurt was still etched in her voice when she talked about him. Even though she would never admit it, her two friends both knew she had really loved that boy.

Blake Roman was Y/N's first official boyfriend. He had treated her so well, and even though she'd lost her first kiss in the treehouse four years ago, Y/N had given all her other firsts to Blake. But two foolish teenagers fell in love at seventeen, what did they know? It wasn't until graduation and facing big decisions of futures and dreams that they realized it wasn't going to work. They weren't going to work.

Blake went to America to become a lawyer, but Y/N wasn't bitter or depressed because she also had plans of her own. Her mother had told her that everything happened for a reason, and that was what she chose to believe. Had they stayed together, a long distance relationship would tear them apart eventually. Take her parents as an example, they had lived under the same roof for that many years but they didn't make it still.

"Y/N..."

The girls turned their head to the kitchen doorway and found Y/N's father with hands in his pockets, dressed in a black suit and a tie. The last time he was that well-dressed was at his wedding, sadly now it was his wife's funeral. He told them it was time to go then grabbed his keys and walked out of the house without saying another word.

Once he had left, Celine asked Y/N how her father had been dealing with her mother's death, and to be honest Y/N didn't even know. She had never known the man well enough to give her best friend an answer, but there was one thing she knew for sure, it didn't hurt him as much as it did her.

.

.

.

Y/N's mother funeral was held at a funeral home in the town central, and only those who were close to the family had been invited, so it was a very small gathering.

Though a part of Y/N didn't want Harry to show up and bring in chaos, during the ceremony her eyes still searched around the room for his face. She saw his mother Anne, and his sister Gemma, but she didn't see him. Maybe for some particular reasons, he'd changed his mind and decided not to go; or maybe he couldn't get past those paparazzi to get out of the house. But without his presence on her mother's sad day, Y/N felt awfully incomplete.

After the burial, all the guests headed back to her house for a wake. There was a small dinner, and the people at the table talked about what a lovely woman Y/N's mother had been. They told stories about her, saying she'd always been wise, and kind, and tolerant, which Y/N knew were all true. But as she stole a glance at her father, who was sitting at the end of the table, focusing on his own food rather than the stories about his late wife, she felt like none of it mattered to him, and that just broke her heart.

Thankfully, dinner was over soon, but the guests stayed for a few drinks while carrying boring conversations to keep the atmosphere indoors alive. It was getting late, a few had left and Y/N couldn't wait for the rest to follow so she could call it a day. The last thing she would expect at that moment was for a new guest to show up, but as soon as her eyes turned to the left corner of the living room by accident, she spotted a familiar face. It wasn't her imagination doing tricks on her like she'd thought at first, it was really him.

Y/N swore the moment their eyes met in the crowded living room, everything else besides them immediately faded away. The background noise was muted and the living room sank to utter silence, so silent that she could hear her blood flowing through her veins and her heart beating all out of rhythm. It almost felt like a scene in those cheesy romantic films she had watched too often.

He was there in person, dressed in a simple black suit but he looked so expensive compared to all the others. His hair was much longer than the last time she saw him, all tied up in a small bun at the back of his head. That new hairstyle almost turned him into a whole different person.

There was a strange kind of familiarity as well as ignorant in that look he was giving her. Then he pressed his lips into a smile, for a second neglecting what the white-bearded man was telling him. She didn't know what to do but smile back and instantly look away as she carried on the conversation with her relatives, acting as if she wasn't bothered at all by his presence. Deep down inside, however, the girl wasn't as calm as she was pretending to be.

.

.

.

Y/N mumbled quick apologies as she grabbed Celine by her elbow and pulled her away from the unfinished conversation, to the back of the staircase.

"How did he get in here without anyone knowing?"

At first, Celine didn't know whom her friend was referring to. But a face like Harry Styles' couldn't just blend into any crowd, especially one as depressing as that. It literally took her less than a second to spot him in the far corner of the living room.

"He must've used the back door," she said, seemingly as shocked as Y/N had been. "Maybe he didn't want to cause a scene, maybe that was why he skipped the funeral."

"Maybe..." The taller girl let go of her friend's arm, keeping her stare fixed on Harry.

"Will you talk to him?" Celine asked.

"I don't know."

"What if he talks to you?"

"I...don't know," Y/N repeated the same three words, eyebrows furrowed at the boy next door.

His name was still Harry Styles, his smile still shone like the sun, and he was still the most beautiful person she had ever seen, but she didn't know him, not anymore. It had been four years since they last saw each other. She was obviously not the same fourteen-year-old girl who had begged him to be her first kiss; and he, now a famous actor, must be very different too. So instead of walking up to him and starting a conversation, Y/N chose to stay away, hoping that he would also do the same.

.

.

.

As the last few guests were heading out and so were her two best friends, Y/N came to her backyard to be alone. It was a long day after all, she needed to recharge herself by spending some time with her own thoughts, and the only place that she could come to think, was the treehouse in her neighbor's backyard.

Unlike people, it never left her.

With her feet dangling in the air as she sat on the edge of her childhood fort, the girl let her thoughts wander with the summer breezes to faraway places, but mostly to the past, to the things she couldn't change, to when her mother was alive and Harry was her friend. Then she couldn't help but wonder if he was still talking to her dad in the kitchen. Was he thinking about her too? Probably not. But a tiny part of her secretly hoped that he was.

"Bambi."

The endearing sound of that nickname got Y/N's head turned in a split second. She hadn't heard it in so long. She hadn't heard that voice in so long, and her heart felt the same warm fuzzy feeling she used to feel whenever he called her that. She rushed to the other side of the treehouse, to the entrance, one hand on her heaving chest as she looked down.

There he was, standing in the middle of his backyard, eyes on her, and the scene was all so familiar yet so foreign. He was different, she was different, and their surroundings were also different.

His garden was no longer the magical place she had always fantasized about when she was a kid. Now that nobody was taking care of it, all the flowers had wilted, the grass had grown much higher, and the sprinklers didn't come on at 6AM anymore. Somehow she felt like it represented what was left between them, absolutely nothing.

He waved his hand to get her attention as if she couldn't see him, and so she did the same, not a single word was exchanged. There was a long pause when they just stood still and stared at each other like two strangers meeting for the first time, probably to take in the new appearance of the other person. She probably had changed more than he had, so she would kill to find out what he thought of her now that she wasn't a kid anymore.

It was Harry who said the first words.

"May I join you up there?"

She hesitated. Fourteen-year-old Y/N would never.

"Uhm...S-Sure," she said at last and watched him make his way towards the tree. Harry struggled to step on the rope ladder and somehow she found it quite funny. When he heard her laugh, he shot her a playful glare, and told her that she was distracting him from his climb.

"Oh God, I'm really getting old."

The man sighed in relief once he had made it to the treehouse in one piece as he took a bow, making the girl shake her head and giggle at him. Once again, they sat side by side with their bare feet dangling in the air like the night he had left. This time, however, she was staring blankly ahead and he was looking at her. He was second-guessing what she was going to say, but she remained in silence until he was once again the first to speak.

"Bambi," he said. "Are you okay?"

She turned to look at him, flashing a single smile. She didn't need to say anything else after that, since he already knew she wasn't okay. She took a deep breath, letting it all out as her eyes turned to focus on her fingers toying with the hem of her black dress.

"Bambi's mother died in the movie too, right?"

That one question shattered Harry's heart at once. He was so used to seeing her as a happy and positive little girl. Now she wasn't little anymore, and she wasn't happy either. He used to know everything about her because she had never kept a secret from him, now he had to try and read her mind because he knew there was more than she was willing to confess.

He waited for her to tell him about her plans after graduation, which university she'd got accepted in, fill in the blanks about all the things he'd missed in the last four years. However, she gave him nothing. Maybe she didn't even trust him anymore. He couldn't blame her though. He'd been gone for too long.

"The car accident happened right before my graduation. She didn't get to hear my speech." Y/N lifted one hand to wipe the tears running down her cheek though she didn't want to cry, at least not in front of him. But the girl had been holding back for too long now and that moment was her breaking point. "Had she been there...she would...she would've been so proud of me..."

Harry quickly wrapped his arms around the girl's shoulders and pulled her close to his chest. She let him hold her, drowning her in the unfamiliar scent of his expensive cologne, which made her feel as though she was in the arms of a complete stranger. But right now she needed that hug more than anything else.

"Your mother didn't have to hear your speech to be proud of you, Bambi. She'd always been proud of you," he mumbled into her hair, one hand stroking her back.

It took Y/N a moment to quiet down and pull away a bit to look at him. They were face to face again in four years, this time, in the kissing distance. She had never sat this close to him before, and he had never looked at her that way before.

The childhood best friends held each other's gaze as if trying to recollect each memory of their past, to form the complete picture of the many years they had left behind. There was a quiet moment, followed by awkward hesitation, as they both leaned in, eyes closed. Neither was thinking when their lips attached.

This time, they were really kissing.

She felt his fingers tangled in her hair as he deepened the kiss and she kissed him back with as much passion, like she had never been kissed before, like it was their first. For a second there, she wished it had been.

The sound of his ringtone broke them apart, and it was only then that they realized what they'd done. She expected silence from him, or at least something else, but instead what she received was, "I have to take this. I'm very sorry." 

Just like that, he stood up and hurried his way back to the rope ladder. The first time they kissed, she was the one to run away. This time, it was him.

He set his feet back on the ground and picked up that call as he hurried to his house, without a second look back. Y/N was still sitting there, not sure what had happened. It didn't even feel real, though she knew it was, because she could still taste his lips on hers. She didn't know who had called, and why it was so important that he couldn't stay and give her an explanation for that moment between them.

If that was revenge for that kiss she had stolen from him four years ago, when she was only fourteen, then it just wasn't fair.

.

.

.

The next morning, Y/N came to Harry's house to talk to him, and once again, his mother said he had already gone back to London; but afterward, the kind woman gave Y/N his phone number and told her to give him a call.

Maybe Anne could see how much her son still meant to the girl, and that she needed his comfort now more than ever. Y/N wondered why Harry couldn't see that as well. Was it really because he was a boy? Or was he just denying everything he saw because he didn't want to believe it was real, that her feelings for him were real? There were too many questions needed answers, and Y/N couldn't be patient anymore.

That night she decided to call him and talk about that kiss. She wasn't gonna sit there and second guess his next moves like Rapunzel in the high tower, waiting by the window for her prince to come back on his white horse. Because this wasn't a fairytale with a happy ending, she was never a princess, even though in her eyes he'd always been the prince.

The girl started biting on her nails while her heart was beating in time with the beeps on the phone. It took a couple ones until someone finally picked up, and she didn't even hesitate.

"Hey, Harry, it's Y/N," she said. "Your mum gave me your number and—"

"Sorry? Who is this again?"

That wasn't Harry's voice. That was a woman. Y/N double-checked the number on the piece of paper Anne had given her, and as she was sure she had put in the correct one, her heart fell to the bottom of her chest.

As Y/N remained silent, the woman on the phone went on, "Harry's in the shower right now, is this urgent?"

"No..." Y/N faked a soft laugh. "I...uhm...Could you please tell Harry that...Y/N called and...please tell him to call me back when he's free?"

"Sure," said that woman, and it was a lie. Harry never got to find out about Y/N's call, but Y/N didn't know about that, so she waited. She waited for that entire week, and by the end of that week she'd made up her mind, this time, to give up on him for good.

.

.

.

(two years later)

"Hey little girl, get up."

"No...One more!"

"Enough, time to go home," said the big fat bartender as he refused to sell the girl another pint. Normally he wouldn't care if his guests got so drunk they forgot their own names, but since that girl had come to the bar every night that week, and got wasted almost every single time, he felt like it was his responsibility to stop giving her what she thought she needed.

"I'm not a little girl" Y/N grumbled, lifting a finger as she narrowed her hooded eyes at him. "I'm turning twenty next month! You're a little girl!"

The man shook his head and took the empty glass in front of her away before she drunkenly smashed it like she had before.

"Do you even have a life, kid?" He asked.

"I do!" She shouted with her eyes closed, pointing a finger to the ceiling. "I'm a...uh...a college student...and a writer..."

The big man rolled his eyes when she said 'writer' but he hadn't got time to argue with a drunk 19-year-old that owning an emo online blog (he assumed) didn't make you a writer.

"Look, kid, this is London. There are plenty of other fun places for young people to hang, you shouldn't be spending this much time here, drinking your ass off."

"But I want some more!"

"Trust me you don't."

"I do! Now give me another..." She trailed off, then cracked a weird smile at him.

The man raised an eyebrow, waiting for her to finish that sentence, but she never did. Y/N dropped her head down on the counter and just lied there like a dead body. Of course, the bartender knew she didn't die, she was still breathing. But he couldn't just leave her there because the bar was closing soon. So he asked a waitress to search for her phone in one of her pockets and called one of her emergency numbers.

That same night, Harry received a call from a bar not so far from his home in London, telling him to pick up a girl named Y/N.

.

.

.

When Y/N opened her eyes, she found herself in a room she had never seen before. At first, she thought she was dreaming, that in her dream she'd become rich and finally got a bedroom twice the size of her current flat. But everything seemed too real to be just a dream. She could actually feel the softness of the mattress she was lying on, and the pillow beneath her head was so comfortable that she didn't want to get up. But she must get up, because Y/N soon realized she wasn't dreaming and it was somebody else's bedroom.

Quickly, she kicked off the duvet, and sighed in relief to see that she was still wearing her clothes from the night before. She thought if she'd been kidnapped, then her kidnapper must be a decent man. But why would anyone want to kidnap a lonely and depressed university student, who could barely pay her own rent? If that person didn't want her or her money (which she didn't even have), what did they want?

The answer to her questions showed up at the bedroom door just as she sat up and threw her legs off the bed.

"Harry?"

Y/N blinked fast because she couldn't believe it was him. But it was, unfortunately. He was standing there, staring back at her with the same dimpled smile on his face. It'd been two years so she'd expected him to look different, yet she was still surprised. His hair was shorter and one could hardly imagine he used to have hair so long that he could put it in a man bun. Overall he still looked good, the opposite of what a mess she was at that moment.

Harry didn't wait for her to ask, he went ahead and explained the situation last night, saying he had to drive to a bar at 1:30 AM just to pick her up, and bring her to his house because she was too drunk to remember her own address. She was glad he didn't ask her why he was in her emergency contact list, because she didn't even know what had been on her mind when she put his number there. Maybe in case something bad ever happened to her, she wanted him to know as well. She just had never expected it to be like this.

"How bad was I?" She asked.

"You threw up all over my shoes." He slightly chuckled.

"I'll get you another pair, I promise!"

"It's alright. You don't have to."

"They're very expensive, aren't they?" She scoffed, and he nodded his head to confirm it was true.

"They're Gucci," Harry emphasized the brand name with a funny grimace to make her laugh, but all that he received from the girl sitting on his bed was a nervous frown. "So..." He trailed off, taking a deep breath. "Mind telling me why you drank to the point you passed out last night?"

"I don't have to tell you anything."

"You don't." He agreed. "But I'd appreciate it if you do."

The girl turned her eyes away from him and let the silence take over once again. Harry prayed that she would say something, anything. She could just start yelling at him if she wanted to, even though he knew she never would.

"Thank you for everything. But I think I should go now," Y/N finally said and rose up from the bed. But the older man didn't move out of the way for her to walk out.

"You expect me to let you go after what happened last night?" He asked, giving her a stern look as he shoved both hands into his pants pockets.

"What?" She scoffed. "So you're gonna keep me here?"

"If I must. Yes."

"Don't try to be my dad, one is enough already," said the girl as she tried to get past him, but he quickly placed both arms on the doorframe to block her path, forcing her to finally look him in the eyes.

"Bambi, talk to me," he pleaded, eyebrows knitted together, looking more serious this time.

Y/N took a step away from the older man with her head held high and her arms crossed as she told him they didn't have anything to talk about. "If you really wanted to talk, you would've done it two years ago."

Just like that, she pushed him aside to head out, but Harry was quick to grab her elbow and stop her before she left.

"I owe you an apology, I—"

To his surprise, Y/N cut him off by yanking her arm away from his grip. Then she looked up, eyes to eyes with him this time. He knew that look so well, she used to give the same one to the bigger kids who had always teased her on playground, but that was actually the first time she had ever looked at him that way.

"We don't owe each other anything. Goodbye, Harry," she said, and he knew better than to try and convince her to stay. Once Y/N had made up her mind, she wouldn't change it for anyone, not even her mother, and certainly not him.

So he had no choice but to let the girl go even though it was painful to watch her walk away like that, it hurt him even more now that he began to think about her cold look from earlier. Maybe that was the moment Harry realized the part of him in her was barely there anymore.

.

.

.

Not until Y/N had walked a pretty far distance from Harry's house did she finally stop and burst into tears. She had never got so emotional that she ended up crying in public before, but now the girl was too upset to care who might be judging her. It wasn't only Harry, it was the entire series of unfortunate events, a circle, all leading back to him.

When she saw his face again, it hurt her so much because she wanted to tell him about everything, why she had been at that bar, why she had been drinking. Y/N wanted to hear him say everything was gonna be okay, and that he would be there for her through it all. But the last time he tried to comfort her, he left a bigger hole in her heart, so maybe this time she should deal with the problem on her own.

The girl told herself to stop crying, and all of a sudden, she heard the camera sound as someone had taken a photo. Y/N looked up and saw a tall man holding his camera, she assumed he was a paparazzi and had seen her walking out of Harry Styles' house.

"Did I give you permission to take pictures of me?"

Her loud voice caught the stranger by surprise, causing him to instantly lower the camera as he apologized, and swore he was just a street photographer. He probably thought that she saw him as a creep, but he didn't seem like one at all. It wasn't just the fact that he had a pretty face, but also because the look in his eyes was genuine.

Y/N's first impression of the man was that he was tall, very tall. She guessed he was the same height as Harry, but his thin build created an illusion that he was at least two inches taller. She didn't consider herself as petite, still, she felt so small standing next to this stranger.

The man, probably just a few years older than her, had smooth, dry skin with little freckles sprinkled here and there across his nose and his cheekbones. His blonde hair looked even more golden in the sunlight. It was short and unruly, yet perfectly framed his face.

Now that Y/N had made eye-contact with him, she couldn't look away anymore. Those were the bluest eyes she had ever seen. The shade resembled a cloudless sky in the spring, full on Prince Charming kind of blue. The more she looked the more prominent they became.

Maybe it was just an illusion, but Y/N swore she could see a bit of green in them.

"This is for a small project I'm working on. I'm taking photos of random scenes and people I come across," the stranger explained as she approached him, and didn't hesitate to show her the proofs on his camera. "Here's an old man feeding the birds, a cute puppy, uhm....a lady who sells flowers on the sidewalk, a kid with his new soccer ball...and a pretty girl crying on the street."

Y/N glared at the young man for what he'd just said, but his cheeky smirk remained as he shut down the camera and introduced himself. He told her his name was Isaac, and he was a professional photographer. Since he'd already shown her those photos he'd taken that day, she could confirm that he wasn't just boasting.

"I'm sorry if I offended you, Miss..."

"My name's Y/N."

"Alright, Y/N, I'm really sorry." Isaac paused to bite his lip, waiting for the girl to speak, and when he was sure she wasn't gonna say anything else, he went on, "I could just delete the photo."

"It's okay, keep it," she said, sighing. "If you wanted to take pictures of me, all you had to do was ask nicely."

"Really?"

"Sure. Why not?"

"Okay then, Y/N." His emphasis on her name made the girl smile and roll her eyes. "May I take a few more photos of you?"

Y/N actually thought twice about that offer. She had just met the guy, for all she knew he could still be a psychopath, a very charming one if that was the case. But since she had nothing else to do on that Sunday morning, and needed a distraction from reality, getting to know a good-looking stranger didn't sound like a bad idea. If he turned out to be a real psychopath, then maybe she was just very unlucky.

"Okay." She nodded, turning her face to the right. "But only on my good side, got it?"

"Got it," Isaac said with a grin, and quickly snapped a shot of the smiling girl.