#Gonna take some independent days of play I think. Turn off notifications.

[tottymatsuno]

Last night I had a big panic attack break down bc i mentally wrote out a giant plot that would have made contextual sense, would have intricately tied together up lots of themes and honestly would have been a great ending for an ongoing overarching plot.

But it involved totty rejecting me and saying he didn't love me and like, I legit freaked out about the possibility bc literally I wrote it and he'd be aware I wrote it, and it was ridiculously meta, and I kept thinking why is it hurting me so much, it's not real

So I spiraled for a long time, none of my normal coping mechs worked either. I was too scared to actually look at him, or like read any of my other works and I started freaking out more because have I written anything where he's just wholly nice and in love with me, or have I been writing him as if he's just tolerating me?

Anyways the whole thing felt stupid, and I felt stupid, and I was already in a cycle of mentally berating myself all night long anyways. It was a bad relapse because I haven't done something like that in years. I haven't just sat down and dissociated enough to tell myself how much I hate myself and the things about me, and I've literally never used him as the vehicle to do it.

I turned on my sunlamps, I got in the bed, I ate candy, I kept telling myself it's summer right now and I'm in the window and everything feels peaceful, I'm safe.

And it didn't work. I just kept crying, and I guess I'm thankful I didn't start hallucinating or having incoherent thoughts, but idk. I didn't know how to reach out to anyone either, it felt like if someone didn't reply within that minute an hour had gone by and they were indirectly telling me how annoying I was.

Which then fueled more self derogatory thoughts. I think I finally snapped out of it by reading other stuff I'd written that wasn't ososan or todo related until I calmed down enough to go to sleep.

I guess I'm writing all of this out rn when I should be getting ready for work and eating breakfast is to say something. I'm not sure what yet. I'm having a lot of issues this winter and I'm positive if I had the mental energy i could put all the pieces together and explain it.

But these days I keep thinking about how much I want to be alone, but how much I care about my friends. I don't want to be alone, I want to hang out with my friends. But I do. It's almost as if they have to live without me, or if there's moments where I can't reach them I'd rather run away. Idk.

I think I just need to go offline for a while.

[spookysmujer]

Or Nah, O. Diaz

Summary: You spend the night teasing Oscar and he ends up putting you in your place.

warning: s m u t (18+) 🥵, bratty!Reader

word count: 2k

requested by: @aneitii

A/N: I am so happy to be getting more and more requests, that y’all believe in me to bring to life your fantasies! SO REQUESTS ARE OPEN! I am getting back into the grove of writing fanfic again, on this blog and slowly on my @losolvidad0s blog. I hope you enjoy this babes! Please consider following this blog, heart/comment/reblog my content as well turning on the notifs for when I post!

taglist: @clemmingstylins0n @fairygardenss @firebenderwolf​ @spookysnena​ @princesstiffxoxo​ @mbaku-babygirl​ @chellybear98​ @multiyfandomgirl40​ @i-just-wanna-live-gc​ (please let me know if you wanna be added or removed!)

(Gif belongs to @merakiaes 💫)

Nothing can beat a Friday night and good company. Especially when it’s those two things at the Santos house. The usuals have filled the backyard and the music is bumping. Everyone is having a good time, everyone except you.

The night didn’t start this way but as Oscar spent more time giving his attention to his compas rather than you it began to irritate you beyond belief. Granted, you can be a bit a brat when it comes to having his attention, tonight he knows that he’s upsetting you with it. And two can play at that game. 

“Hey, I’m gonna be right back. It’s way too hot for these jeans.” You excuse yourself from the group of ladies you were drinking with to head into the house. The mischievous grin spreading across your face like a Cheshire cat.

You dig through the drawer you have as yours in Oscar’s dresser. Shuffling through the stack of bottoms to find what you were looking for and when you spot it, you internally squeal.

A perfect ploy to get your man’s attention and keep it on you, and you only.

The air is cooler as you step back out into the bustling backyard and immediate eyes are set on you. The pencil skirt, tight and short on your thighs and doing nothing but good things for your behind.

“Damn mama!” If everyone’s attention wasn’t on you then, Joker saying something has got it now. He holds a fist to his mouth and inhales at the sight of your smooth legs exposed.

Oscar’s eyes land on you and he can’t deny the twitch he felt in his pants especially when you had your back to him. He clears his throat loudly which signals everyone to take their eyes off you. Everyone knows how territorial Oscar is when it comes to you.

You walk pass Oscar, his eyes trained on you the entire time despite the people around him trying to strike up conversation. “Man, that is much better. Does it look okay?” The girls hype you up with oh’s and ah’s especially when you turn to show them your plump behind, looking over your shoulder to get a look yourself and you don’t miss the look Oscar is giving you, has been giving you.

He isn’t the type of guy to slip away to go fuck when he is hosting a party, which is why you are enjoying every second of this. Looking this nice in the skimpy outfit knowing that it will rile him up until everyone is gone.

After some conversation with a few people, Oscar whistles to get your attention. You look over at him and he tips his head for you to make your way over to him, you tilt your head to the side and mouth ‘no’ to him.

Oscar’s face contorts to irritation as you just smile and walk further away from him. The game you’re playing is a dangerous one and you know it too. Once you came across a post on IG saying, ‘Piss him off now, so he can fuck you harder later.’ The post circulating in your mind.

You start to think how rough he’ll be with you. How he’ll feel every inch of your body and kiss all the visible skin leaving marks to let his homies who you belong to. Despite your headstrong nature of independence, it’s something about belonging to someone that turns you on. The thoughts going right to your heat and you squeeze your thighs together. 

As the party begins to die down and more people leave, you begin to feel the excitement course through your veins. Your eyes scan the backyard for Oscar but you can’t find him until you turn and bump into a body.

“Homies starting to leave.” He states the obvious and you pretend to look around like you haven’t noticed, “And you’ve been a brat tonight. You know exactly what you were doing putting that on, sucia.” He dips his head down until his mouth is next to your ear when he whispers that last word, breath hitting the side of your neck.

Your eyes close for a brief moment as you feel his body heat move away from you. He smirks as he stretches with his arms above his head and his skin peeps through below his flannel, his happy trail poking out and oh, you can’t explain how much you love to see it.

Oscar wipes his hand over his mouth and looks around before closing the space between you. Your face nearly against his chest as his moves his hand between your nearly touching bodies. It moves at the bottom of your skirt and his fingers brush against the lace fabric of your underwear.

When you feel the feather touches you recoil and grab his hand to move away. Oscar is never one for public displays of affection, always said that was for little kids like his brother and girlfriend. He hums when you look up at him.

“If your ass isn’t on the bed in 5, I’ll make you watch another hyna suck me off while you’re tied down to the bed.” You’re breathless as he spews out the filthy words.

It’s almost like the speed of sound that you are entering the bedroom. You step in slowly as you see the light of the conjoined bathroom shine under the door. A huff from your nose as you crawl on the bed, waiting for the unknown.

Oscar comes out with a towel dangerously low around his hips. You lay back with your knees up, swaying side to side and a finger between your teeth. He’s standing at the foot of the bed, as he leans forwards to rest his now balled up fist on top the sheets. His muscles bulging as well.

You open your legs, letting the skirt rise up towards your hips. The finger in your mouth now being suckled on like a ice pop on a hot day. With it coated with your saliva you bring it between your legs and into your panties that now sport a wet spot. “Mhmm,” You moan as you fingers begin to assault the swollen bud, so sensitive and yearning for Oscar’s touch.

He grabs your ankles to pull you to the bottom of the bed roughly, a little squeal escaping you. He keeps his hold on you as he pushes your legs apart, looking down at your wet, but clothed pussy. Oscar licks his lips as he pulls your panties to side, running his finger through your glistening slit. The feeling immensely pleasurable.

“This what I had to look forward to all night?” 

Oscar’s eyes darken as they meet yours. This is the Oscar you want in the bed, the relentless one. The one who runs shit just as Spooky does. He lets your ankles go and grabs your hips roughly, lifting you off the bed and over on your stomach. Before you can push yourself up on all fours, he pushes your head down into the bed.  

His hard member covered by the towel pressing against your ass, you giggle as your wiggle your hips. Oscar pushes your skirt up and your panties down  around your knees. Your ass high up in the air, face down into the bed. Buzzing with excitement to be filled to the hilt with his delicious cock but your met with his mouth instead.

His tongue running from your clit all the way to your anus. You moan as he licks every inch of your bottom, tongue penetrating into your entrance. “O-oh, yes. That’s what I’m fucking talking about. Eat my fucking ass, babe.”

Oscar lets you call the shots for a second as he feels your body getting ready for a release. You’re a moaning mess as he attacks your nub, your kitty dripping with arousal and his saliva. The suddenly it stops just as you feel the knot forming.

You groan in frustration which makes Oscar chuckle. “What? You didn’t get to cum? Tough shit. See what happens when you be tease all night. I can tease too.” Oscar has a smug look on his face as you roll onto your back and fly a pillow towards him which he dodges.

The towel that was on his waist has since fallen off and his hard cock is standing and looking oh so ready to ruin you but Oscar is deciding to play this tease game with you.

“Uh, just fuck me!” You groan and cross your arms, legs crossed to get some kind of friction. And despite wanting to drag this tease game along, Oscar couldn’t resist you long. He loved how your body ached for him and how impatient you got wanting him.

He smiles at you and climbs in between your legs, dipping his head low to plant kisses on your shoulder then to your neck. Suckling at the skin and sinking his body into yours.

“Too much clothes, nena.” You let him pull you shirt over your head but he grasps it tightly around your wrists. He uses one of his hands as extra restraint to keep your arms pinned above you.

He pulls your underwear off your legs and wastes no time to push his member into your aching pussy. The gasp from you only adds to his neediness for a release. You’re beginning to squirm under him. You want to dig your nails into his skin and mark him up.

Oscar moves his hips slowly at first and at an angle, hitting the spot that sends a tingle through your entire body. Then his pace picks up and your skins are slapping together. “Fuuuuck, pussy so fuckin’ good.” 

He is melting right into you, pace quick like a piston. You’re panting as he penetrates deeper with every thrust. You begin to squeeze your muscles when he fills you to the hilt.

You look at him and try to break from his grasp but he only holds you down tighter. He brings his hand between your bodies and begins to rub your throbbing clit, adding to the pleasure and nearly tipping you over the edge. This fuels you, “I wanna ride.”

He smirks and releases his hold on your wrists. You quickly shake off your top that he left to bond your wrists together quickly and you push him off you. He falls to your side and you pull your bandeau off, letting your breast bounce out.

You climb on top and reach back to guide his cock enough to let you sink back on it. Now bringing your hands to plant on his chest, you hips begin to move in circular motions then you start to bounce, the feeling so good, your creamy arousal is running down his shaft.

“I ain’t lasting long like this.”

“Me either.”

Your head falls back and you move your hips front to back, side to side on top him. The pace faster and faster as each second goes by. Oscar sees how into it you are. He takes the opportunity to overtake you.

He pushes his knees up to hit your ass and causes you to be taken by surprise and fall over forward onto his chest. His arms wind behind you to pin you down when his hips buck up at a mind blowing pace. His cock ramming up into you. Oscar is beginning to moan louder.

You bite his shoulder to suppress the overwhelming feeling that is soon to explode in you. The knot forming to breaking as you orgasm, “Fuck,papi, Keep going, cum inside me.”

“You know I will, I’m gonna fill you up, put a baby in you.”

Oscar grips you tighter and groans loudly as his hot seed spurts in you, his thrust not stopping and his cum beginning to drip down his shaft and onto his balls. You are withering mess now. His pace finally slowing down.

You’re unable to move, your skins glued together by sweat and lust.

“Jesus, babe.” You finally muster the energy to fall off him, you’re both laying there trying to catch your breaths. He only laughs and brings his hand to cup your mound, rubbing your clit to tease you. Your legs automatically close at the sensitivity

He keeps his hand there, “What are you doing down there?”

“Making sure my cum stays inside, I told you I’m giving you a baby and I meant it, bebecita.”

[qingxintea]

➼ chongyun || hiraeth

tw: mention of knives (no violence), kidnapping, explosion _______

you angled your camera to catch your face and upper body correctly and adjusted your blinds for the correct lighting. you put thin pieces of yellow and pink paper over your lamp to give off a sunset lighting sort of aesthetic in your minimalist room. your tiny cacao tree sat in the corner of your room, setting some sort of simple beach vibe.

then, you began to stream.

you watched as majority of your followers came to view as you sat in your rolly gaming chair. the greetings came rushing in and you noticed two of your friends had came along too, xingqiu and chongyun.

"hey gang, it's kingexplosionmurder here with your weekly sunday stream," you smiled and watched as comments came in asking you to notice them. beginning to select randomly, you flicked a short strand of hair behind your ear. "you have been noticed, yourlocalsugardaddy," you blessed them. and you swore you chose randomly.

on the other side of the screen, chongyun's face slightly flushed before eating his popsicle again. yes, that was his username, selected by xingqiu after the guhua heir was somehow able to trick him into selecting so. the situation must've been that he accidentally consumed some jueyun chili's, that was also xingqiu's doing.

he watched you smile as you explained your schedule for this stream, when he noticed you suddenly began laughing. it sounded genuine, he wanted to believe it was genuine, but there was a trace of disappointment in it. he observed your face, noticing you were looking at the chat box. "i agree too, scarymoose."

scarymoose: this streamer's kinda dog shit ngl 😐

by instinct, his fingers grazed over the keyboard as he analyzed the tone. this kid wasn't joking around with himself, he was really out to bring you down. he exhaled, shaking his head, wondering how you would deal in the situation.

yourlocalsugardaddy: miss karen this isn't yelp 🙄

he wasn't content with that yet, things could've gone onto more serious matters, but he knew you liked to keep your chat clean and peaceful. you went to the farther extents to keep that from happening, agreeing with rude comments yourself as a said joke, but actually have it sometimes harming you.

so chongyun tried his best to keep you happy.

redrumreaper: yo moose chill 😳

he recognized his friend xingqiu also trying to calm the situation as you just laughed it off and attempted to continue, sooner enough just beginning to ignore all his comments. some other viewers came up to your defense but in all honesty, you wanted to move on.

"s-so, i found some silk flowers outside of wangshuu inn yesterday, aren't they pretty?" you took a tiny bouquet of the said silk flowers and presented it to your viewers, holding it next to your cheek. the pink tone of the flowers matched the color of your cheeks and made for a nice picture. chongyun would've screenshotted it, but he respected your privacy.

yourlocaldumba$$: yes they're so pretty we love you 😍

13lue13erry: yes ong ong 💕 thiccer than my granny

Straw13erry: don't bring madame ping into this 💀💀

colino: are you sure it's alright to take from someone's legally owned property ?? much less from their garden

Straw13erry: u mean ur neighbors don't harvest ur flowers every day? 🙄 privilege spoke 🤚

yourlocalsugardaddy: vv pretty 😳

redrumreaper: simp 💀

you slightly choked over on your side and xingqiu calling chongyun a simp, for you. quickly clearing your throat, you regained your composure. your viewers could see that your cheeks had been dusted with a darker shade now.

13lue13erry: 👀

Straw13erry: 👀

yourlocaldumba$$: 👀

redrumreaper: 👀

sireluck: 💀

bazinga: 👀

dandelionn: 👀

poetichoe: 👀

"okay- anyways," you pushed that aside, watching the chain of 👀's coming in. you weren't too sure at what they were referring to, but just assumed that they were interested in xingqiu exposing chongyun. but, there was no way chongyun really felt like that, right? it was just a friendly compliment from what you believed. "just a tiny flex but y'all guys, i am so cracked at apex, not gonna lie. for all the new followers out there," you randomly commented. 'and to change the subject.'

"actually, you know what? fuck the schedule, let's go to trolling little eight year old kids posting selfies on instagram. due to certain reasons i'm just not gonna be blurring their usernames out, but please don't spam these people, i don't wanna be cancelled 💗" you sweetly smiled as you pulled up instagram and started streaming on your phone.

of course your sus notifications ruined it 🤡🤡

because xingqiu took advantage of the situation, sending messages to your discord. nothing mentioning your romantic life because he knew better than that, but just trolling. 'HEY GANG. ITS ME, TONY, AND TODAY WE'RE GONNA SEE IF IM FASTER THAN THIS MOUSE TRAP.' 'TURNS OUT, I AM NOT FASTER THAN THIS MOUSE TRAP.' 'AN UPDATE, IT HURTS. ALRIGHT. BYE GUYS.' you tried hard to contain your laughter, but certain giggles came out in the end, giggles that made chongyun's heart flutter.

xingqiu just kept spamming without a stop, to the point that you accidentally clicked into the notification instead of someone's username on a selfie post. so now everyone could see your group chat with xingqiu, chongyun, and a few other viewers that were actually your other friends.

13lue13erry: oh no 🤡

Straw13erry: 🗿

yourlocaldumba$$: HAHAHAHA WE'RE EXPOSED 🤡👌

just water support boy 😔: image.png

oh my god he's sending chongyun catboy edits. you made this concerning noise, glad no one really seemed to know who chongyun really was on twitch. you went back to instagram, beginning to dm a random kid, ignoring the situation that had just happened.

chongyun choked, slight heat running to his cheeks. what the fuck was xingqiu doing- how did he even get those pictures? maybe it was that one time xingqiu forced him to go to a furry con, but how did he ever get the time to photograph these? he nervously fidgeted and played with his fingers.

13lue13erry: 🤡

Straw13erry: 🤡

yourlocaldumba$$: 🤡

redrumreaper: 🤡

<— oraoraoraor

kingexplosionmurder: chav check

oraoraoraor: what

kingexplosionmurder: chav: check 😹😹

oraoraoraor: bruh

oraoraoraor: who tf are you

kingexplosionmurder: hope you like baddies cause i'm bad at everything 💗

oraoraoraor: bruh ok i'm blocking

kingexplosionmurder: stop dming me

oraoraoraor: 😐

kingexplosionmurder: stop dming me

oraoraoraor: wtf

kingexplosionmurder: stop dming me

oraoraoraor: wait wait UR that one twitch streamer?

kingexplosionmurder: stop dming me

oraoraoraor: ig ur fans gonna be so disappointed in you

kingexplosionmurder: stop dming me

oraoraoraor: hahaha wtf i'm gonna post this and tag you

kingexplosionmurder: stop dming me

afterwards you sent a barrage of really cursed images and left the person on read when they tried to complain and get a reaction out of you. you chuckled, extremely satisfied with yourself. this is what your viewers followed you for. you went on hunting for another user, "GO Y/N GO" filling up your chat.

you were just about to dm this other kid until you heard a ring from your doorbell. "oh what the fuck, i didn't invite anyone. but you know what, i'll pull something up to entertain y'all guys while i'm afk." searching on youtube, you typed in 'banana fish ep. 1' and clicked on the longest video you saw. then you got up from your chair, making your way to the front door.

you didn't mute yourself before because you thought there was really no need to, and you underestimated your mic sensitivity. god did you wish that you could go back and time and do just that.

twisting the doorknob, you opened your door and was met with... a certain, someone.

someone that you recognized and has caused you so much pain, and it was all so fun and games before they had to come along. "bruh. aight what you here for fam?" you played it super chill, though you were really sick and tired of this person's shit.

"(y/n). we need to talk," her stern voice made you flinch as you just stared straight into her eyes. you simply nodded your head and crossed your arms, shifting your weight onto your right leg. "we're thinking of taking you back home."

your froze, your breath hitching as you just stood there, waiting for her to go on. clenching your fists and looking down, you stayed silent for a little moment and questioned, "...why?"

"well, you have a stable income source, right?" she asked, putting her hands on her hips. "you can finally be of use to us," she clasped her hands together, a bright smile on her face. your finger twitched, awaiting an explanation. "you're a streamer, yeah? so you can be a useful asset to our family name."

"...you only want me to come back so i can make you all seem... good?"

and here you thought, just for a second, that you would be accepted back into the place where you really belonged. your shoulders slumped, as small tears began to well up in your eyes. "and for our profitable gain of course, it would be a shame to not acquire that from you."

you composed yourself and looked up. "im afraid my profit can only cover for one person, and it would be myself that i focus to make a suitable and independent living out of. you've kicked me out ever since i've graduated from college and had me fend for myself, now inviting me back once i have a stable job?" you breathed, fiddling with the sleeves of your black hoodie.

"oh, not inviting, dear. taking."

confused by her words, you let your guard down as she suddenly pushed a warm cloth over your mouth as you let out a constrained scream. you tried to break free of her grasp, reaching for the switchblade in your pocket, but the drowsing chemicals from the cloth took control of you and you felt disoriented. "you... bitch..."

your head hit the floor.

》●✿ time ● skip ✿●

silence.

thats all you heard when you awoke.

pure, unfiltered silence that overwhelmed you as you were completely lost. what was happening?

you tried turning to the other side of your childhood bed, the moon casting light shadows into your 'room'. there was a rope around your wrists you noticed, so you brought them up to your lips and starting gnawing on them until it broke apart. (guys we feral its not a furry instinct ok?/ ??  ?)

the material had irritated your skin, but you put that aside for now. escape- thats what you really needed to do. it was fairly dark, but you didn't have a good estimate of time. the analog clock was broken and set to a different time that displayed 11AM. you sat up, your fingers running along the frame of the window next to you.

for a moment, you stopped, thoughts rushing into your head. what if you could start a whole other life here where things could finally be peaceful, what if you didn't have to feel so isolated anymore, what if you could- ...

no. (y/n), get yourself together. what has happened will anyways stay there, and there is no healing scars. ...still, you couldn't shake off the feeling of missing this home so much when you had an amazing childhood, though full of fake actors who had manipulated you.

opening all the cabinets silently, you grabbed things that you assumed would come to your aid. a tiny backpack, which you then stuffed with other things around it. a first aid kit, a spare knife just in case, along with a clean oversized sweater and a couple dollar bills. all that, along with a compass.

you turned towards your window, stepping on your bed.

pushing open the sides of your window, your stepped on, the brown coldness of the frame coming in contact with your feet. you shivered just a little bit before stopping to think. what would you do once you were out of here? you barely knew your way here. and not to mention, your devices were still left at your other house, so there was no way of contact.

...

did your stream ever end? even if it did, had you muted yourself before leaving? no, you didn't, and you could remember in precise detail. someone out there, anyone, would be willing to help, right? you couldn't possibly be here forever, not when you're basically blown up all over your socials?

your friends, yes, your friends! xingqiu and chongyun were watching the stream and had made obvious interaction in doing so, and they'd be willing to protect you. if they just had a lead...

but... what lead was there? all they heard was the woman's voice and, that was probably it, wasn't it? only a voice with no other clear features that could identify her. it looked like you were doing this on your own.

you came in contact with the blades of grass tickling your feet and conveniently found a pair of sneakers outside. it definitely wasn't yours, and it smelled like the scent of your old room. most likely, it belonged to someone from inside your house, lavender and mint, but who inside there was in the age range to wear modern day sneakers..?

brushing that question aside, you unhesitatingly laced them on and they were just a bit too big, but you could manage.

you breathed, inhaling the freedom intertwined air, a much needed factor of bringing you back to your lost sense of happiness. then, the fear struck you once again, because you needed to improvise now. you needed to run, but which direction? you barely knew this place at all.

you dug around your pocket for the compass you had and it was pointing east. you remember that stepping out of your house was facing west, so you were going the right way... but who knows how messy the path was? it couldn't have been an exact pathway, but going directly ahead was your simplest option.

you heard a pair of footsteps coming from inside the house, probably a few seconds away to opening the door. you sucked in your breath and ran, ran as far as your legs could take you. your intimidating speed and played into your advantage, and taking one last look, you saw the lights on, before continuing.

a few minutes into it, you felt some elemental energy. it was a sense you learned to develop since you were young, giving you the upper hand in a variety of situations. you followed the trail of glowing lines, the air starting to get colder and colder. you shuddered, the crisp coldness nipping at your skin.

you sat below a tree, taking your backpack off your shoulder and took out the oversized sweater. you put it on over your black tee and light blue skinny jeans, its nostalgic aroma filling your sense of smell.

it was... warm.

it shouldn't be warm.

the warmth proved as a sign that someone had worn it before, but this size was from what you knew, too small to fit the woman you came across again, and you absolutely did not recall any other beings within the house. it was a small household.

suddenly, you remembered what she said.

we're thinking of taking you back home. you can finally be of use to us.

plural. you should've noticed it before and you shook your head, slightly disappointed in yourself. you didn't remember any other birth siblings. could it be the fact that during the time, they had, in a way, replaced you?

you sat up, then suddenly went drowsy. your eyelids were getting heavy as your back hit the same tree. ah, that clever bitch. you chuckled to yourself, but still unsatisfied how this was gonna end. reaching inside your pocket, you grabbed a bomb that a little kid gave you, and threw it as far as you could. it wasn't as far as you hoped, but it was exceptionally far considered your sleepy state.

in a few couple seconds or so, it was going to explode. you did that to divert the attention of her and slowly ran as far as you could. a few seconds in, you gave in, hoping that your efforts were enough. 》●✿ perspective ● shift ✿●

chongyun heard an explosion.

he raised his head in the direction smoke was coming from, and made a run for it, then stopping to think. no, you're smarter than this. he gathered his shit together and remembered that one day klee gave you a bomb. he deducted that you had used it as a diversion, and began to search around the area.

and finally, he came across your sleeping body. to ensure your living state, he crouched down and let two fingers travel across your neck, searching for a pulse, and was relieved when he found one, pulsing at a normal rate.

he then carried you on his back, picking up the pace since he deducted someone was out for you, would you need a distraction. he remembered some details of the woman, she had ended your stream with your sleeping form in her hands, a dirty smirk coming across her lips. she had dark hair with some natural highlights, but that was all he saw because the rest was concealed by a cloak.

a few minutes, maybe half an hour later, you began to stir. chongyun decided that he ventured far enough to liyue and slowed down for your comfort. he wanted you to get some well deserved rest. but slowly, you woke up, but only the tiniest movement was made. your eyes were still droopy and you wanted to return to sleep.

but the sight of pastel blue hair kept you from doing so.

you felt the familiar silk coming in contact with your arms as he kept on trudging forward at a more consistent and smooth pace. "..chongyun?" you muttered out weakly, earning a small smile from the male. he hummed in response, continuing forward.

your mind was cloudy, unable to interpret the language of the world. but softly, words effortlessly escaped your lips, "... did i do the right... thing?" blinking multiple times, you awaited his answer.

"yes, yes you did," his soft voice reached your ears, making you smile a bit. you nuzzled deeper into his shoulder, clinging onto him tighter, unwilling to let go.

"thank you," you whispered.

he chuckled a bit before responding, "anything for you."

_____

bro ending is a little off because i'm wrote this at 2:53AM and so my brain has went ⬇️⬇️ also i'm just hungry

copy and pasted from my wattpad,, @ppeachtea_

[pinencurls]

“I could just hold you and listen to your voice all night long.”

Hiii so this is my entry to @stellarboystyles‘s three year anniversary fic challenge! I’ve been busy with getting ready for classes starting and balancing other stuff so I wrote it on and off for a week and a bit but I hope you all enjoy! Feedback is so so encouraged and appreciated <3 

Here’s my masterlist of some other stuff I’ve written x 

Enemies (more like friends but oops) to lovers, prompt 9 “I could just hold you and listen to your voice all night long.”

14k+ :) Not read through sorry! pls let me know of any mistakes and I’ll correct them <3 (also i k n o w the title's bad but i couldn’t think of anything, pls feel free to leave any recs.)

- - - - 

It isn’t that I hate Harry. He just makes me feel...insecure. He’s never said or done anything directly but it’s hard to feel good about yourself when all your closest confidants seem to compare you to somebody else, somebody they so clearly hold higher above you. There wasn’t a single day I could meet a mutual friend of mine and Harry’s and not have them sing his praises, and apparently everyone was a mutual friend. I’ve known Julia and Theo for years, we all met in uni when they first started going out but it wasn’t until a year ago that I somehow ended up finding myself a regular within the friendship group they’d formed when they both went into the music and fashion industries. They had ties everywhere and after a pure coincidence of running into them and their circle at a pub, almost all my weekends were spent in various art galleries or new restaurants owned by somebody’s cousin or the guy they met last night at a Fleetwood Mac concert. 

I’d met Harry about five months into hanging out with the group. He’d known them a lot longer than I had, weaving his way into the little pockets of interesting people for years since the x factor. I was busy with work the first few times he was in town but after a while, Nick, the persistent party planner of the group who always managed to wrangle us together, insisted that I just had to meet him.                  . . . . . 

Eleanor’s house is huge and buzzing with hundreds of strangers. I cling to Julia and Theo’s side, Nick and Eleanor are nowhere in sight - most likely playing host or drinking too much chardonnay in another corner of the house. These four are the only people I can say I really know here, sure there are a few familiar faces on the dance floor, either from having met them at any of Eleanor's past elaborate parties or just because of they’re not so subtle fame. That’s another thing, all the people sipping wine and dancing around me are fairly...well known. Either just within the industry or to the general public too, they’d all gain fairly high status. It was a fluke really that I got on so well with Julia when we first met on a fashion course in uni. 

Julia had big goals, all of which she was on track to fulfil, that conflicted slightly with mine. Her goals consisted of runway show models clad in designer brands she might one day contribute to whereas mine were more...anti, that whole world. It took a few years to find a steady footing but eventually, I was proud of where I’d ended up: a comfortable little cubby in the fashion and sustainability columns of a handful of independent magazines. After a few nights out with Julia, I was pleasantly surprised to find her shared interests and solidarity in my work and ambitions of her own within the same ideology. But whilst that’s all well and good, I’m still very much the small indie journalist that slips through the cracks when it comes to small talk at these kinds of events. It became apparent pretty quickly that my latest articles on how fast fashion had begun its destruction of a liveable environment in developing countries weren’t as relevant or interesting to the people promoting Prada and Calvin Klein as the next met gala theme. 

“Do you want another drink?” Theo asks from beside me, pulling my focus from my scan of the room. 

“No thanks..I’m good.” I murmur, debating how long I have to stay before I can slip out and feel a little less awkward around all the people I have no clue how to talk to. “Think I’m gonna head off actually..”

“Look I know you hate networking, but this is just a chill get-together yeah?” Theo chuckles, squeezing my shoulder before taking another sip from his gin and tonic. “We’re in the same boat about these snooty things but tonight’s not like that, relax a bit will ya.” 

Theo works mostly with small-time music artists, producing debut albums and such so we share the same deep discomfort for the many events we often find ourselves at. It’s how we got close really, week after week we’d trail behind Julia as she strikes up conversations with Hollywood elite...and he always makes getting piss drunk in someone’s pool house exceptionally fun. 

Before I can further any excuses about getting home to start on the legitimate and ever-growing pile of work deadlines on my desk, a tall man in far too much Gucci to belong anywhere but in a room full of models and artists makes a beeline straight from the bar to our awkward party. 

“Harry!” Theo shouts, embracing the slightly tipsy man in a hug he reciprocates. 

“It’s been too long mate, how ‘ave you been?” Harry cheers, leaning back from the hug and grinning down at his friend. 

“I’ve been good - busy, enjoying the free bar as always.” Theo jokes, motioning between his and my matching G and T’s. Harry’s eyes wander up from the drink, realisation dawning on his face as he smiles again.

“Ah and you must be the famous Olivia,” He reaches his hand out to mine and shakes it lightly. “Sorry I didn’t introduce myself, ‘m Harry, it’s good to finally meet you, love.”  

“Likewise.” I smile, trying to suppress the blush his words of endearment tease. I can’t deny the natural charm and charisma everyone always talks about now that it’s hitting me straight on. There’s something about the way he doesn’t hesitate to hold eye contact just that little bit longer that makes the room go still for just a second. He’d got it down to a T.

“Aww I see you two have finally met!” Nick interrupts. My hand falls from Harry’s grip as he’s welcomed into another hug. “About fucking time as well, been trying get this one to take a night off for weeks!”

“I literally came out with you last Thursday!” I counter, not missing the smirk setting on Harry’s face as he watches Nick and I’s back and forth. “And the Saturday before, come to think of it I’m always out with you Nicky.” 

“Not when Harry’s in town though n’ that’s a different kinda night.” Nick laughs, his beer sloshing slightly in his free hand as his other remains draped over Harry’s shoulders. 

That was maybe the first sign of my slight resentment for Harry. All night I wandered around with Theo hearing little bits of conversations, all surrounding the star of the party. I understood this wasn’t his doing, his humility was clear in every one of his bashful attempts to turn the conversation away from his growing achievements and onto literally anything else. He was, however, a self-proclaimed narcissist. Every time somebody would swoon over him and insist he stay the topic of conversation, a smirk tugged at his lips and stayed there as he consumed the endless and animated praise from almost all the party guests. 

I’d expected some of his qualities to be untrue, learning from the past never to believe blindly of someone’s pure character when you didn’t truly know them. Especially when they frequented the gossip columns. But it wasn’t him so much, he was true to his motto of kindness and courteous even as people fawned over him, it was more the attention that surrounded him. As the night went on it became clear what Nick meant even if he didn’t know it himself. A night out with Harry was different because everyone made sure to capitalize off how different he made them feel.

. . . . .

“Can I get you anything else M’am?” The young waitress asks as she clears up my empty mug and saucer. My eyes falter a little as they adjust from the blue light of my laptop I’ve been staring at for the last twenty minutes. 

“Um- oh please could I just get a refill?” I ask. 

“Sure thing - mint tea right?” She smiles, adjusting the mug in her hands to make a quick note. 

 “Yeah..s’perfect - thank you.” She’s gone before she hears my delayed gratitudes, definitely used to the throngs of bemused writers tapping away at their laptops for hours. 

I turn back to my open google doc. So far it’s written in two parts I have no idea how to connect and my senseless rereading hasn’t resulted in any legitimate progress in almost an hour. I’d accept the rut I’m stuck in and work on something else for the day if I didn’t only have the day. Last night had been filled with plans of settling in early and finishing the last two thousand words on an upcoming sustainable clothing brand. That all went out the window of course as my phone buzzed off the kitchen counter with Nick’s insistence of yet another night out to celebrate ending the work week - his was quite different to mine. It was easy to ignore the persistent beeping of my phone as new texts and call notifications popped up every three minutes, but less so when the rhythmic bursts of noise were replaced by knocks on my front door. 

Within 40 minutes of opening it to Nick in a silk shirt and jeans too skinny for someone pushing thirty, I was two drinks in and dancing to Blue DeTiger with a pair of hands on my waist that I didn’t entirely recognise. It was just the six of us: Me, Nick, Ellie, Theo, Julia and Harry.

He was hard to ignore, not that I was trying particularly hard. On the drive over, the limited backseat space in Nick’s car and close proximity had practically forced me into his lap. Even with thighs pressed tightly against each other, we hardly talked, a few polite hellos here and there and then silence as we listened to Eleanor recall her latest night with whichever blonde bassist was her ‘soulmate’ that week. The whole ride over, Harry kept his hands on the thigh closest to the door and leant his shoulders the same way as to touch me as little as possible - which was still quite a lot considering the packed five seater pushing seven passengers. It was fairly common knowledge we weren’t close and I got the feeling he wasn’t too keen on me, but he could at least not act like touching me would be the worst thing ever. 

As the night went on he clung to Theo, ever the cuddly drunk, and I stayed more to the pleasant stranger I’d found on the dance floor.

No meanest was ever intended between us but I couldn’t help but watch the kindergarten like bitterness grow as everyone just loved him. We couldn’t go anywhere without a crying fan or two approaching the sweet and smiling man who always answered their questions affectionately and hugged them goodbye. The times he was out of town were always filled with comments about his absence, as if none of us were good enough without his added presence. I couldn’t help but wonder why they even bothered to bring me into their little group. The lack of closeness between Harry and I felt almost like a lack of closeness to the group as a whole, despite how much my individual friendships with everyone advanced. 

Just as I thank the waitress - Alice, her name tag read, and take the first sip of my third tea (I had to switch after a particularly strong starter coffee) I notice a familiar man out the corner of my eye looking just as rough as me. Of course he’s wearing it better than I am. 

Harry collects a drink from the counter and bows his head slightly in thanks, turning and catching my eye just as he’s on his way out. He waves with his free hand and shoots me a candid smile before making a quick change in direction towards my small table. 

“Long time no see,” He pulls the chair opposite me out a little as he chuckles at his own joke. He perches lightly, temporarily. “How’ve you been?”

“A little hungover, I won’t lie..” I laugh, surprised by the whole encounter. “You?” 

“Same, I might have had a shot or two too many,” I nod knowingly and shut my laptop softly. He sips what smells like coffee before going on. “Are ya workin? Sorry to interrupt.” 

“Oh no- I mean I am but it doesn’t matter really, ‘ve kinda hit a dead end.” His eyes hover, waiting for me to go on. “I was gonna get it done last night but Nick had other plans..” 

“Yeah Nick’ll do that to you,” He laughs, “What’re you writing ‘bout?” 

He leans slightly forwards, holding eye contact and shuffling comfortably into his chair. 

“Oh just this promotional piece on a new company, they’re hiring young women and training them to make these handmade clothes. They’re paying them above minimum wage and focusing on sustainability so this editor I’ve written for before offered me it.” I’m not really sure how sincere he is in his curiosity, he always seems to have time to listen when Julia has a new design plan or Theo’s found a new artist but that’s different really. I stop before I start to ramble, just in case. 

“That’s so cool, what kinda stuff are they making?” He prompts, resting his chin on his fist, imitating the posture of an eager little kid. 

“They've started stocking stuff by other independent artists but mostly dungarees and these cool cord trousers, they’d suit you actually, even got some 70s style ones.” Now that the two worlds are colliding in my head, I can’t help but imagine Harry in a pair of their forest green cords, the wide legs would almost bury his vans but a part of me is pretty sure he’d love them. 

“Thanks, if they come at your recommendation I might have to get my hands on a pair,” He smiles, his tone’s a lot different to the usual polite cheer, it’s difficult to place where it’s landed before he’s talking again. “Reminds me of that show you took us to with the upcycled clothes, all those dungarees made of old quilts - remember?” 

It’d been a small exhibit just outside of London I’d mentioned offhandedly and somehow ended up showing everyone around. It was nice to have them all in my world for an evening. Marcus, a friend of mine from college, had put it together and created a lot of the pieces. He and the others I’d met through my work were fairly shocked to say the least when Harry Styles came traipsing through the doors behind me. All night he quietly asked Nick questions, to which Nick only responded by motioning towards me and wandering off to the bar. 

“I do - I’m surprised you do to be honest.” It slips before I can decide if it sounds passive aggressive or not. To be fair, it had been a surprise to me, meeting everyone at the train station and watching Harry and Nick scramble out a taxi and run towards us. He’d been dressed in proper gallery attire and seemed genuinely thrilled to be joining in on the rare night I actually played host. 

“Course I do, it was a good night...I’d choose it over Nick’s tequila Tuesdays anyday.” His phone buzzes on the table, a text popping up in green. “Oh I- my manager’s waiting sorry.” 

A sheepish smile is accompanied by a loose arm movement towards the door where, out on the street, I see Jeff. He’s shaking his head and motioning for Harry to hurry up. Had Harry sat down to talk to me whilst his manager had been waiting this whole time? 

“It was good running into you, good luck with it all,” He stands. “See you friday yeah?” 

I’d totally forgotten about his “Whenever I’m in town Friday film night.” until he mentioned it. I’d been twice in the past and stayed quietly to my corner of the sofa, only watching as everyone else laughed at whatever romcom had been chosen that night. 

“I-maybe.” He shakes his head as I smile, not quite ready to commit a whole evening to watching Nick raid Harry’s wine cellar. 

“You better, I’m gonna need to hear more ‘bout those cords.” He points his hand in a kind of joking reprimand/wave before he’s gone back down the aisle of tables to the door where Jeff ruffles a hand through his hair and laughs when his hands fly to fix the now birdnest of brown curls. 

I open my laptop back up, skimming over the last few lines I wrote to get myself back on track. I take a sip and my tea’s gone cold. 

. . . . .

“Are you coming to Harry’s tonight?” Eleanor asks down the phone, her voice chipper as she no doubt raids her closet. 

“Maybe, I don’t know..I’ve got this deadline Monday morning that I’m nowhere near meeting.” 

“Come on Liv, we haven’t seen you all properly together since last month, and last week doesn’t count it was too loud to actually talk!” She chimes in, the sound of clothes being tossed to the floor clear in the distant background. “Have you got a problem with Harry or something?” 

“No Elle, of course I don’t-” 

“Then why do you guys never talk? You hardly come with us when he’s around and when you do you barely even say hello.” Eleanor complains, she’s mentioned it in the past but it’s been easy to blow off with excuses of how busy he usually was making his way around the room to greet everyone or how we just hadn’t known each other that long and weren't particularly close yet. 

“I just...I don’t know, I don’t think he likes me very much.” I pause. I still haven't decided what last Saturday was in the cafe. “We’re not really close and I’d prefer not to spend another night listening to people tell him - and everyone else - how great he is.” 

“You’re saying that like he’s some arrogant twit, if you came out with us more you’d see what he’s really like around his friends. Or you know, you could actually talk to him when we’re together and see that he’s not a dick?” 

It was a fair point. I haven’t made much of an effort over the past year to spend any time with him outside of larger gatherings or to have genuine conversations with him that went past the weather or a new jacket one of us had on. Maybe he really is a good guy away from all the pretentious crowds and watchful eyes he usually called to our group. He’d certainly seemed different in the quiet Saturday surroundings of Blondies Coffee Roasters in between sips of coffee. 

“Okay, okay yeah I’ll see you there.” We hang up a couple of minutes later and I’m left alone in my kitchen again.

. . . . . 

“Hey!” Harry cheers as the door swings open to reveal him in yet another pair of flared pants that hung comfortably around his waist. “Come in, come in.” 

We all pile in through the doorway as he steps aside. Arms weaving through each other as we hang coats and jackets and Julia passes Harry the fruit platter she’d made (and scolded us all for picking at on the drive over.) 

“Oh very appropriate,” Harry laughs as he uncovers the tray to reveal an array of sliced watermelon, strawberries and grapes, He sets the fruit down on the table in the lounge for us all to eat and shakes his head lightly. I look up at Julia for an explanation but she’s too busy claiming the comfiest loveseat for the night. “I’m never telling you anything again, Jules.” 

Julia and Harry tease each other for a moment more until Theo catches my confused stares and laughs to himself. 

“Harry wrote a song ‘bout fruit- another one actually,” Theo starts, tucking himself beside Julia and letting her take over before he can finish. “S’not just about fruit though is it H?” 

Harry blushes slightly and settles his glare on Julia as he carries six wine glasses through to the table. 

“‘S about watermelon, it just has some..” He clears his throat as he fumbles for his next sentence. “Other themes to it too.” 

“As if mate,” Theo’s laughter booms, “ Basically Liv, he wrote this new song the other day all about how much he loves to-” 

“Watermelon!” Harry yells, pointing an accusatory finger at Theo. “S’all about how much I love watermelons...I’m a fruit guy.” 

“Oh are we talking about the pussy song?” 

All heads snap round to see Nick, obviously having let himself in and now chuckling softly to himself as he leans against the archway into the room. 

“Oh sorry H, were you tryna give an interview answer?” 

Harry just slaps his palm over his eyes and lets his shoulders shake for a minute before he bounces back to host mode. 

“Okay!” I can’t help but notice how flushed the tips of his ears are as he claps his hands together, desperately trying to move on from the conversation. “Who wants wine?” 

Fifteen minutes later everyone is settled onto the sofas with an array of throws between us and a layout of fruits, crisps and other mid rom com snacks that make me feel bad I left my flat in too much of a hurry to remember anything but hummus. 

“Okay - Sixteen Candles, When Harry Met Sally or Mamma Mia?” Nick calls out, waving the tv remote above his head to get everyone's attention. An outpour of votes follows - you’d think between only six of us we’d be able to sort out a process by now but still we fall into momentary anarchy as the room divides. 

“Mamma Mia is a classic!” Eleanor protests as Nick’s shaking his head. 

“And Billy Crystal isn’t?” He yells back, eyes wide and genuinely offended. 

“Colin Firth is arguably more iconic, Nick really, come on.” Theo sighs. He accepts the high fives Ellie and I reach out to him and saluts us both. 

“We’ve all seen Mamma Mia before though, we’ve never watched When Harry Met Sally all together,” Julia points out, winning a smirk and nod of approval from Nick. 

There’s a beat of silence while Nick weighs up the votes in his head. He tilts to the side slightly and eyes Harry up, our gazes following. 

“Harry?” 

“Ellie?” 

“Come on, you’ve got the last vote here, and I know how much you like Meryl.” Nick gasps a little, the mention of Meryl Streep as a wager to win Harry over to his opposing team was definitely foul play in his eyes. 

“Yeah but he loves When Harry Met Sally...and he is a narcissist..” Julia offers into the debate, a few snickers follow her comment before we all turn to look at Harry. We’re all already half a glass in but I could swear for just a moment his eyes lingered over me, fluttering down to my smile before turning back to announce his decision to Nick. 

“I’m afraid I am in the mood for a bit of Abba,” Cheers and not so subtle murmurs of frustration fill the lounge as Nick scrolls through the Romance bar on Netflix before clicking on the film of just over half of our choosing. 

Everyone goes quiet as the film starts, breaking out into bursts of song only as the cast does. From the conversation in the car, it’s pretty clear everyone has just been through a pretty tiring week. We all tended to pile our workload a little heavy so it was always nice to escape for a few hours at the weekend and relax together.

Just as Voulez-vous plays through the room, a slightly tipsy Nick leans into Harry to serenade the singer with his own rendition. The duo sway slightly, both narrowly avoiding Nick’s wild limbs before there’s a crash and Harry’s cursing. 

“Oh- H, Sorry!” 

Nick’s wine glass that’d been balanced on the coffee table in front of him moments before now lays on its side. The, luckily white, wine trickles down onto the rug but most noticeably splashes into Harry’s lap. I’m not entirely sure how he managed it, it must have flown forwards when it was knocked but Harry quickly stands to access the damage. 

“I’m so sorry Harry I-” 

“Don’t worry mate, I’m just gonna go change and toss these in the wash..could you wipe that up for me?” Nick nods, looking a little less cheerful and a lot more guilty now as Harry makes it way out the room. He calls behind him: “Keep watching I’ll only be a second!” 

Nick finishes wiping down the table and rug just as Harry jogs back into the room. I don’t mean to and I’m never one to check people out..unless very subtly, but I can’t help but let my eyes linger a little. 

He’s still in his plain tee but instead of his fancy pants he’s found some soft wash denim jeans. The whole look paired with his thick rimmed glasses and how his hair's gotten tousled about by Nick throughout the night just made him look so...ordinary. Not in any bad way, anyone who met Harry knew he could never be ordinary, no matter how casual he dressed, but something about seeing him abandon the more dressed up looks and go for the comfortable option just made him seem different. 

In a second his green eyes are complimenting the look too as he gazes down at me. 

“Hi,” He mouths, nobody’s taken much notice of his return, yet another musical number taking everyone’s attention. It’s my turn to blush a little now. I avert my eyes quickly, anywhere really, before sneaking a quick look up at him to smile back. 

Ellie had helped Nick in the “For fucksake save Harry’s rug it probably costs more than your car” mission and had stolen the seat beside him after they were done. It slipped my mind until Harry set the new bottle of wine on the table and sunk down into the space beside me, He curls one leg underneath him and slips me one more smile before turning back to the screen just as Donna and Sam start singing SOS.

. . . . . 

“Ah shit, I think I left my book!” I curse just as we make it down the road to Julia’s car. Parking was shit so by the time we found a spot we’d ended up a good 15 minutes away from Harry’s house. “You guys go on, I’m only round the corner anyway.” 

Theo and Julia were familiar with my stubbornness so let me go, yelling their goodbyes after a few hugs as they drove away, Ellie and Nick do the same as they clamber into a taxi. I turn quickly in the chilly air and make my way back down the street to Harry’s drive, punching in the familiar code at his gate before running up to the door hastily. 

It was open - as always, so I let myself in. He was probably still cleaning the lounge up after we all got a little too tipsy. 

“Hey it’s me...just left my book sorry!” I call down the hallway. It’s quiet despite the light Paul Simon playing in the distance so I make my way quickly to the sofas I’d spent most of the night on, praying to avoid an awkward run-in with Harry. 

Although we’d actually shared some light conversation throughout the night and a handful of smiles, I’m not sure we’re quite at the stage in our friendship that me more or less breaking into his house wouldn’t be awkward to run into. 

The lounge is empty when I get there. The side tables are still littered with wine glasses and tacky red rings on coasters but no Harry in sight. Or book for that matter. 

I start pulling back the cushions carefully - god knows how much they cost. Despite scouring the one spot I’d pretty much clung to the whole night -  incidentally beside Harry -  I have no luck. Nick tossed the book back to me at some point in the night after reading it by my recommendation but knowing him it could have ended up anyway. I follow the breadcrumbs of our night down another hallway as I vaguely remember Nick talking about a certain plot twist as we searched Harry’s kitchen cupboards for the wine he’d sent us off to restock. 

As I come around the white archway into his kitchen I catch a glimpse of him from around the kitchen island. He has his back turned to me but he’s leant forwards against a counter with ring covered fingers clutching the edge, a glass of amber liquid set slightly away from him. 

“Oh, sorry I was just-” He jumps a little at my voice, turning quickly to face me with his now free hands coming up to hold his chest. When his eyes finally meet mine they’re red and it takes a second for him to register the tears still streaming from them before he replies. 

“Shit, fu- what are you..are you alright?” His hands bat between tangling into his hair and wiping the tears from his cheeks, anything to avoid actually looking up at me again. 

“Yeah, I just..um..left my book,” I mumble, taking a step closer to him when I notice how his hands shake as they move timidly around his face. “Harry, what’s wrong?”

“Uuuh um.” He wanders for a moment before slapping a palm lightly atop the counter and pulling out his infamous grin. “Nothing much, how bout you - find your book?” 

“-Harry..” I take another step close, “I know we’re not, ya know..close. But you can talk to me.” 

There’s a beat of silence when he keeps up the act, I’d almost believe it if it wasn’t for his bloodshot eyes and anxious fingers drumming against the tile. 

“What’s wrong?” 

He pauses for a moment, assessing whether or not to tell me whatever’s weighing so heavy on his shoulders. But the dam bursts. 

“Fuckin’ everything Love” He laughs, rubbing his palms over his face. I try to focus on the matter at hand: Harry weeping in his kitchen. But that name’s only ever left his mouth directed at me a handful of times and it’s never made my stomach flutter quite as it did just now. “Just..Fuck I’m so lonely Olivia.” 

I don’t really know any of the details but between conversation - mostly overheard, and the media frenzy, it was hard not to be aware of Harry’s break up two months ago. I can’t claim we were close enough to discuss it, having hardly ever talked beyond trivial issues, but I knew that despite them only being together two or so months, he’d been incredibly distant for the weeks that followed the break up. 

“I hear about you and Aubre..I’m really sorry it didn’t work out for you guys-” Harry laughs almost, a pained sort of chuckle that told me I was way off with this one. 

“It’s not..that isn’t why I..” He takes a deep breath before lifting his head up slightly to focus on where his fingers still tapped out a nervous beat on the counter. “I was lonely before her...and with her. I just, I can’t seem to get it right ever...feels like nobody wants to be with me for the right reasons.” 

“Hey no..what about tonight? Your house was full of so many people who love you yeah? Maybe your bougie wine collection had something to do with it but still,” He laughs at that, peeking up from behind his fringe for just a moment. “They- we love you ‘k?” 

“I know but, ‘clock hits the am and everyone leaves, it just gets...it gets so fucking lonely to see everyone in perfect pairs ya know?” 

I don’t really know what I’m doing but I’m doing it - my arms wrap over his shoulders and lock with a hand at the nape of his neck. We’ve never hugged before beyond a general greeting but anyone watching wouldn’t know it, his face burrows quickly into my shoulder and his arms cocoon over my waist, holding me tightly and slipping under the thick layers of my jacket. 

“I know exactly what you mean, H.” 

The hug lasts longer than I imagined it might. He smells of vanilla and the coffee he brought back in bulk from Jamaica. He lets out a shaky breath and melts further into me, nuzzling my neck softly with the tip of his nose. His curls are soft between my fingers and I find myself shhing him, lulling us both into a tired kind of calm. 

Another moment passes in the silence of his kitchen before Harry lets out an awkward cough and straightens up, pulling out of our hold and immediately covering his face with his palms again. 

“I..sorry Jules and Theo must be waiting for you..” Harry murmured, wiping the last of his tears away and letting his hands fall and fidget by his sides. 

“Oh no don’t worry they..um they already went I was actually just gonna walk.” I tell him, making his head perk up a bit. 

“Wha-It’s past twelve Liv it’s not safe, how far do you even live?” He clears his throat and his voice is clearer now, it feels like a whole different world to the one we were in just a minute ago. 

“It’s fine honestly, only take like thirty minutes walking - I’ve done it before-” I ramble, eager to put this situation behind me before I embarrass myself anymore. 

“No - let me drive you yeah?” Harry shakes his head, adamant. 

“Harry..we’ve been drinking all night, I think that’s more dangerous than me jus’ walking.” I laugh, holding his gaze for a second longer than I usually would - fuck, how do we usually act around each other?

Before I come to a conclusion, his eyes rest heavy on mine and I can see the cogs turning in his brain as he tries to work his way out of this one. Ever the people pleaser. 

“Then stay.” 

“Harry-”

“You said you know how it feels.” He cuts in, unwavering now as he doesn’t let my eyes fall from his. “So stay …’s safer anyway.” 

. . . . . 

“I can take the sofa, really Harry I don’t mind,” I reassure as he tosses me an old t-shirt and joggers to sleep in. “It’s comfier than my bed anyway. 

His guest bedrooms had just been painted and were still pretty fume filled so the sofa or his bed were the only options. For twenty minutes now he’s tried to convince me to take his bed and leave him on the sofa, despite the fact we both know he’s a little too tall to sleep without his feet hanging off the end. 

“But you’re my guest!” He protests again, coming up from his wardrobe to stand in front of me, hand on hips and an expression of concern on his face. 

“And you’re almost six foot!” 

“Hey, I am six foot.” He takes a deep breathe, exhaling through his nose in defeat before speaking again. “Okay, you can sleep on the sofa but if anyone asks I was the perfect host and you bullied me into this.” 

I laugh softly, this whole new side of Harry had never been directed solely at me before and it was honestly refreshing. Usually Nick or another friend was the target of his jokes and playful demeanor and I only noticed it from afar but now he was right in front of me, hauling pillows off his bed and sticking his tongue out when he caught me staring. 

“Are you sure you’ll be alright?” He asks for the third time since I agreed to stay the night. We’ve just finished setting up the sofa to sleep on and despite the duvet and many quilts far more lush than my own actual bed, he seemed unconvinced it was enough. 

“I’m sure” I sit back into the pile of blankets and pillows, tucking my feet underneath me and looking back up at Harry. “If you’re really not, just come watch a film with me and see how cozy it is.” 

The quick change in dynamic was a lot smoother than I’d imagined. Within an hour of being alone together we’d already talked more than in all our past interactions, not to mention how close we’ve gotten. He only nods his head quickly and he’s settling under a quilt beside me, rummaging around for a controller to pull up netflix again. 

“Mamma Mia two?” He asks. 

I chuckle a bit and nod. At the beginning of the evening I hadn’t quite seen it ending in a Mamma Mia marathon with just me and Harry. 

He presses play and as the opening display begins we both lean back into the sofa and pull the blankets up over us. It’s only in the quiet of the first few scenes that I notice we’re matching. We’re both dressed fully in his clothes, grey joggers and t-shirt - his rolling stones, mine fleetwood mac. And it all smells of him. I pull the blanket a little higher over my chest and the faint, but now familiar, scent of vanilla and coffee fills my lungs and for a second all I can focus on is how desperately I want to be in his arms again. 

. . . . .

“-ow” A groggy voice mumbles from above me and I feel myself being pulled forwards slightly against something hard - and warm. 

I’m a few seconds from falling straight back asleep before I feel the painful ache in the side of my neck. I reach a hand up to gauge my current situation and feel my fingers plunging into soft hair - soft hair that ends too soon to be mine. 

“Hi..” I recoil my hand quickly back to my side and push myself up so I’m sitting slightly. I look down and see Harry, half asleep still and hand still resting on my side. 

“Oh-hey sorry,” What do you say when you wake up beside the guy you barely knew but simultaneously had been incredibly vulnerable with just the night before? 

Harry seems to be waking up now and certainly more aware of our predicament as he pulls his hand away from where it was holding firmly onto the material of my - his - t-shirt and pushes himself up to sit against the arm of the sofa. 

“We must have fallen asleep..sorry I didn’t mean too, ya know…” His eyes flutter between where I sit opposite him and the “Are you still watching?” Netflix screen. 

“It’s fine, accidents happen an’ everything.” I smile, slipping out from the warm cocoon of blankets to stand. “I’m just gonna wash up quickly and I’ll be out of you hair.” 

Before I can rush off to tame my hair and hopefully find some toothpaste to rid me of my morning breath, Harry clasps his hand gently around my wrist and tugs slightly to get my attention. 

“Not in a rush Love, I’ll make us some breakfast.” He says it effortlessly, like it was a regular occurrence for us to fall asleep cuddling on his sofa. He stands, groaning as his knees pop appreciatively and lets my hand go before he’s disappearing into the kitchen.

“Okay…” I murmur to myself. “....okay.” 

. . . . .  

Alice is back at my table with my second refill before 11am. I thank her and take a gulp of the fiery ginger tea before reading over the last three paragraphs I just wrote. The spice licks my tongue as I tip the cup up for a second sip; it’s autumn after all. 

In the last two weeks September had slipped into October and all the trees in London had received the memo. I’d been busy, hoaled up in the quietest corner of Blondies the whole time with coffee filling all my senses. I haven’t seen everyone together since that night at Harry’s. I grabbed lunch with Eleanor the Monday afterwards and told her nothing, preferring to avoid the texts my phone amassed over the fortnight. I've turned down all proposed group activities and focused on work instead. To be fair, I do have a lot to get done. There were always seasonal pieces in my to do list and with the weather getting colder it was time I got to them before it was Christmas already. 

I haven’t talked to Harry either. He made us pancakes with blueberries and maple syrup in the morning and we haven’t even texted since; I’m not sure that we even have a private text between us. Eleanor and Julia have told me how much fun they’ve all had the times I’ve politely but persistently declined, I can only assume Harry’s in the mix with them all. He’s in town for awhile if I’m remembering our breakfast chatter correctly, it makes sense that they’re all hanging out together really when they don’t often get time together. Ellie’s phone calls keep me from sliding into thoughts of how easily I could fall right out of the group and not be missed, at least. I was just taking space for work. The fact that most of my afternoons at the cafe disappeared into me analysing anything I might ever have felt or said to Harry means nothing at all. 

Neither does the heightened pace of my heartbeat when he walks through the stiff wooden  doors of Blondies. 

He orders what I assume is his regular black coffee, scans the room for a second and lands directly on me. He hesitates a little to hold my gaze, turning his head to look outside before looking back at me and smiling. He thanks the server and takes a few quick steps towards me, weaving in between the packed tables to my little spot hidden away in the corner. 

“Hi,” He smiles again, although his toneos overshadowed by a slight anxious hilt. “Can I sit?” 

Nodding, I close my laptop and pull my tea closer to me to make a space for him. 

“Hi.” He repeats, smiling a little sheepishly. 

“Hi,” I wait a second, nervous to start when I’m so unsure of how this conversation has already gone in his head. But he doesn’t say anything so I push through and bite the bullet against my better judgement. “Look, about that Friday I-”

“Can I just-” He cuts me off, leaning forwards and opening his hands out as he mulls over his next few words. “I’m sorry if it was awkward at all, I didn’t mean for anything to happen and I thought we were fine an’ everything but then I haven’t seen you in two weeks and Ellie keeps saying you’re not comin’ out. Did I do something wrong?” 

“Oh god no,” I hurry, “You didn’t do anything it was just - I didn’t expect to wake up..like that...and it was just a really quick change because we’ve never really been close and suddenly it was just, us, like that.” 

He nods, pushing a loose curl back a second later that broke free in the motion. He seems understanding as he looks down before leaning his elbows against the table so only the two of us can hear what he’s about to say. 

“I know, I didn’t expect it either but, can I just tell you I’m glad that it happened?” He leaves a three second pause for me to flounder in confusion before continuing. “What I told you, ‘bout feeling lonely, it messes with my sleep all the time. I just get stuck in my own thoughts but the night you stayed over I slept fine - perfect even.”

Not sure what else to do with this new information, I nod for him to continue.

“I know we’ve never been close, but hanging out with you just really calmed me down.” He smiles, gaining confidence now in his vulnerability tucked away in our little hiding place. “Thank you for staying.” 

“I get what you mean.” I mumble, slightly anxious any of the busy customers with prying eyes could overhear my confession. “I never really know when to stop working and I think I got the best night sleep on your sofa I’ve had in awhile, which really speaks volumes about how crappy my mattress is.”  

He chuckles. Relief seems to settle in as he lets his shoulders relax and face soften. 

“I was thinking - especially now that I know it was good for you as well, maybe it could become more of a regular thing?” He asks, his forefinger and thumb pinch together and twist one of his rings a little - a nervous habit, I’m sure. 

“How do you mean?” 

“Like..when we all go out, maybe we go home together, you know - so we can sleep better.” He moves down to focus on the metal rose he’s still fumbling at. “If..if you don’t want to or you think it’d be weird it’s fi-” 

“I’d like that.” I reach forwards to comfort him, absentmindedly cupping my fingers around his. “I think it’d be nice, to get a good night's sleep I mean.” 

“I’m glad.” He beams.

“..That and you make a mean blueberry pancake.” I tease, earning a light chuckle from Harry. 

Just like our last cafe encounter, the ping of a his phone beats me to my new few words. He checks it quickly, shaking his head and glancing down the large room to the shop front where, once again, Jeff waits. He seems a little more agitated this time, waving vigorously whilst trying not to attract the attention of passersby, all  rather unsuccessfully. 

“Bollocks okay - I’ve gotta go,” Harry swears, collecting his coffee from the table and pushing his chair back quickly. “I’ll just - we can text before we go out next yeah?” 

“Cool, yeah - wait a sec, let me just give you my number.” I reach up for him to hand me his phone but he doesn’t make any effort to move, instead he blushes slightly and stares at the floor. “..What?” 

“I um, I already have it.” He fiddles with the hair at the nape of his neck before talking again. It’s hard not to remember how it felt when it was my fingers carding through his brown curls. “I got it from Theo awhile back when we were going to this thing, felt weird not having it. I hope that..okay and everythin’” 

I nod, smiling up at him. The idea of him having a part of me for this past year without me even knowing is oddly precious. The fact that he felt odd about not having my number and going to the effort of getting it from Theo was unbelievably endearing. 

“That’s fine, helpful actually.” I smile still, “Text me before we meet everyone and we’ll make a plan or somethin’” 

“Okay,” He smirks, his slight cocky nature reemerging. “Will do, Liv. See you soon?” 

“See you soon.” 

Jeff flies a hand up to his hair like before but this time is met with a grinning Harry who doesn’t seem to mind so much. 

. . . . . 

Unknown Number 

‘Hey! Is tonight good? We can slip off after drinks at the gallery. H x’ 

I look down at my phone. Caught off guard by the sudden text, I’d almost forgotten out arrangement. Julia invited us all to a gallery opening of one of her friend's new exhibits. Even as I flicked through my wardrobe for the right jacket, I hadn’t put two and two together and realised I’d be seeing Harry again for the first time since our chat at Blondies four days ago. 

I save his number and I think quickly, not wanting to leave him on read when he knew I’d be leaving to see them all any second and most likely spend the whole tube journey on my phone. 

‘Hi :) That’d work for me yh, just let me know when you want to leave and I’ll make an excuse. Liv x’ 

With another thought rushing through my head, I send a quick follow up. 

Me

‘Can we keep this between us right now? Might be a bit tricky to explain to the others.” 

Harry

‘Read my mind love.’

‘See you in a bit :)’ 

I’m still not the hugest fan of the airy feeling that rushed through my stomach as I read over the pet name. He was just from Manchester, it was normal up there to call everything by casually affectionate little names. It didn’t mean anything at all. 

. . . . . 

“Livia!” Nick calls out when he sees me scanning over the faces at the entrance to the gallery. I smile instantly and make my way over, quickly falling into his arms as he rocks us for a second. “Haven’t seen you in an age!” 

“‘Ve been working, we can’t all piss about Monday to Friday.” I giggle, smiling wide as he murmurs something under his breath and plants a big kiss on my cheek. “Is everyone here?” 

I try not to look suspicious when I peak over around us, trying to pick a certain brunette from the crowd.

“Yeah, they’re just over there with Julia’s friend.” Nick points and I see him immediately. He’s dressed just as I expected - half gucci half grandpa sweaters. “I’m gonna get us drinks, meet you there?” 

“Mhmmm” I hum, breaking out of his hold and slipping through the crowds to our small group of friends. 

“Hi!” Julia smiles brightly. She hugs me quickly before stepping aside to give Eleanor and Theo their turns. They all whisper quiet ‘Missed yous’ in my ear as if I’ve been gone for years. 

“Hey,” Harry appears by my side as everyone else turns their attention to the front of the crowd where it looks like the artist is setting up to introduce the night. “How’ve you been?” 

“In the last four days?” I chuckle, “Good. Not been sleeping great, but I’ve got a lot of work done so that’s been great.” 

He nods approvingly. A smile tugs at his lips at the mention of sleep, almost like some secret inside joke we’ve managed to form between just the two of us. 

“Me neither. Jeff’s been buggin’ me what feels like every hour with deadlines.” I find myself squeezing his hand a little under his long coat sleeves so nobody can see. “Looking forward to just collapsing tonight, if I’m honest.” 

“Me too.” I smile tiredly, tonight had been a big ask come to think of it. I've had work piled up twice my height all week and even having worked day in and day out I’ve still only made a crack in the mountain of final edits and emails to respond to.

Harry squeezes my fingers back and our hands linger in each other's hold until Nick emerges beside us and the artist begins her speech. 

. . . . .

 The comfortable chatter surrounding the booth we’d taken up a few hours ago died down as the clock ticked later and later. We’d left the gallery a while ago now in favour of the after party at a pub down the road but by now the heavy scent of beers and various gin based concoctions were giving us all headaches. 

“I think I’m gonna call it a night guys,” Harry announces, a slew of groans following from the group. “Sorry, sorry! It’s been great but it’s getting late.” 

Julia and Theo move out the way to let him out the booth. He slides across the red cushion to stand, pulling his coat over himself as he sneaks a quick look at me. 

“I think I’m gonna head off too,” I smile, waiting for Eleanour to stand and let me out as another wave of complaints flooded me. “Sorry! I’ve got work and the tube’ll be hell any later.” 

“Well if Harry’s going too couldn’t he take you home?” Julia suggests, looking between the two of us as we now stand slightly away from each other. “You drove right?” 

“Yeah, I did.” Harry turns to smile at me, amused clearly by how our plan was being unknowingly encouraged by our friends. “C’mon, I’ll drive yeh.” 

I nod, biting back a smirk. We say our goodbyes and wave as we slip out the heavy pub doors out onto the road outside. It’s started to drizzle slightly and I resent choosing the jacket without a hood. 

“I’m just over here,” Harry points a little ways off. “Hurry, think it’s about to pour.” 

We walk quickly down the street and through a metal gate into a car park when there’s a loud rumble of thunder and immediately the rain thickens. 

“Fuck!” Harry laughs as he scrambles for his keys, we match each other's paces until we’re practically sprinting to his car in the far corner of the lot. The click of the locks sounds out and his lights flash red a second before we’re both pulling the doors open and throwing ourselves inside onto warm seats. 

We catch our breath, chests rising and falling with uneven pants before our laughter settles and Harry slots the keys into the ignition. 

. . . . . 

“Do you want anything to eat?” Harry asks as he closes his front door behind us and we kick out shoes off in his hall. “I think I have some takeout menus somewhere..” 

“I’m not really hungry, thanks though,” I cut off his search as he walks through to his kitchen and starts opening draws. “Kinda just wanna go to bed now.” 

He nods and rubs a hand under his eye in silent agreement of my exhaustion.

“I’ll make us a tea, meet you up there yeah?” He calls over his shoulder, having turned quickly to retrieve various packets from his cupboards. “Chamomile okay?” 

“Yeah chamomiles good,” I hover for a second in the archway leading into the kitchen, suddenly awkward to be alone in his house again. “Where um..where is it?” 

He looks over his shoulder at me, slightly confused. His eye brows unfurrow when I motion behind me. 

“Oh- just up the stairs and third room down the hall..on the left.” He smiles, turning back to the cupboard to look through his extensive mug collection. 

I nod to myself, spinning on my heel and making my way up his stairs. I’ve never gone beyond the downstairs of his house before and even then I stuck to the kitchen, dining room and lounge. It felt odd to suddenly have access to something as intimate as his bedroom, I try not to overthink things as I push open the third door I see.

The first thing I see is his large bed, there’s probably enough room for three people on it and there’s definitely enough pillows to go around. The room as a whole is tidy, whether it’s always like that or only organised so precisely for my visit, I don’t know, but the thought makes my stomach flutter. 

I walk up to the side of the bed with no charger on it’s table and set my bag down. We hadn’t talked about the logistics of our...arrangement, but I’d brought the basics to last me through the night. I plug my charger into the wall and take out my wash bag and a set of clothes to sleep in before sliding my bag under the table. I look around for a second. Somehow I hadn’t really thought through the fact that by the end of the night, I’d be in Harry’s bed. With Harry. In a completely platonic way with the only function to soothe our mutually crappy sleeping habits. 

I hear Harry walking up the stairs just as I slip into the un suit to wash up and get changed. He’s humming a song under his breath. The clink of mugs being set down is followed by wardrobe doors opening and closing and a light thud of clothes being thrown on the bed. 

I wait a few minutes to make sure I don’t walk in on him changing. Opening the door tentatively, I step out into the room in a large sweater and pajama shorts. Harry turns to look at me, he’s in the same t-shirt he wore last time and a pair of boxer shorts and the whole situation suddenly seems so amusing. After just one night of falling asleep on the sofa together, not having ever talked before, here we are standing at our most vulnerable about to cuddle in his bed together.

“Hi.” 

“Hey,” He nods, looking down at himself. “Hope this is okay...I don’t want to make you uncomfortable or-” 

“It’s fine,” I reassure him, “I didn’t really know what to wear either.” 

His eyes flicker down my body and he smiles back up at me. He motions to the bed and we both nod a little awkwardly before making our way over to our sides. I climb in and instantly let a small groan out as my body sinks into the mattress, the pillows and duvet feel almost like a cloud as I burrow under and pull my tea up to my lips. 

Harry chuckles from beside me, I peak over the mug to seem him grinning down from where he sits slightly taller in the bed.

“Sorry, you look comfy.” He laughs a little, 

“I am, your bed’s insane.” I set my mug down and turn to him, bouncing slightly to emphasise the quality of his mattress that probably cost more than a year of my rent. “I really should start earning millions, feel like it’d suit me.” 

He returns his tea to the bedside table and copies me, turning to face me with his legs crossed. 

“It definitely would.” He smiles, bouncing a little before I let out a yawn. “Tired?” 

“Exhausted.” I mumble, hand still covering half my face. Harry reaches behind him to turn to switch the lights above his headboard off before pulling the duvet back for us to slip under.

“C’mere,” Without hesitating, I shuffle back slightly until I can feel his chest behind me and an arm come up to rest around my hip. “‘This okay?” 

“Mhmmm,” I hum, “What about our teeth?”

“We’ll brush ‘em in the morning,” I nod, groaning again as all the aches in my body subside as I sink into his arms and the foam mattress. “You okay?” 

“Yeah,” I mumble, embarrassed to have let myself go so easily around him. “Your mattress is just unbelievable. Might have to make this a regular thing.” 

I speak before I think, mind clouded with sleep and my eyes already fighting to stay open. 

“That’s the plan, love.” 

. . . . . 

When I wake up, Harry’s arms are tight around my middle and his body’s like a furnace behind me. I vaguely recall pulling my sweater off in the night to cool down as I lay now only in a vest and shorts. I slept better than I have in months though, despite the warm breaths on my neck turning my cheeks flushed. 

The mix of Harry’s company and his safe haven of a mattress made for the perfect night sleep. I push back slightly into his chest and feel his arms tighten around me and a low murmur of his voice in my ear. The clock on my bedside table reads 6:30. It’s a Saturday and I can quite easily imagine spending the rest of my day - weekend even, exactly like this. 

I slip back to sleep for a little awhile before I’m woken up to a low groan behind me. Harry shifts slightly, burying his face in the base of my neck and squeezing around my waist again. He must still be half asleep to be this comfortable with me. 

I’m proven right when it takes another fifteen minutes for him to poke his head up over my shoulder and mumble: 

“Breakfast?” 

. . . . . 

Our routine works smoothly for weeks. After sleeping so well the first few times, it became a given that we’d pile into Harry’s car after every night out with our friends and go back to his. Sometimes we’d get takeout or watch a film, but it wasn’t so rare that we’d just stumble out of his car, or a taxi - depending what the night had entailed, and walk with eyes almost closed straight to bed. 

I stopped bringing things every night about two weeks in when a new toothbrush appeared next to Harrys and an oversized t-shirt of Harrys found its way onto my side of the bed. We also ditched the awkward pleasantries. Spending two or three nights a week in his house, I’d become pretty familiar with it all. I sometimes brought us breakfast if it was a weekend, or left a coffee beside the bed for him if I left for work first, We had very easily slipped into an oddly familiar sense of domesticity. It was strange to never mention any of it to our friends, it made it special though. We helped each other, and it was all just between the two of us. Nobody else knew Harry taught me how to make coffee just the way he likes it, or that we share his lavender shampoo sometimes. 

“Ols?” Harry calls up the stairs to me. We’re running late to Julia and Theos anniversary dinner. 

“Coming!” I yell back, reaching into his wardrobe to snatch a jacket before running down the stares. 

“Oi! Slow down love, you’re gonna fall,” He complains, holding his hands out at the bottom of the stairs to catch me as I skid a little on the wooden floors of his hallway. “Hey! This’s mine!” 

He tugs playfully on the opening of his jacket. I pull the fabric from his grasp and smile up at him. 

“Not anymore…” He scrunches his nose up and pulls me towards him. The sudden movement pushed the air from my lungs suddenly. “-Fine! Just for tonight...nobody’ll notice anyway, you only just got his one.” 

He shakes his head, bringing his fingers up to tickles across my stomach quickly before letting me go and clapping his hands. 

“Shoes now!” He points down at my sock clad feet, “Come on we’re late already.” 

I sling my bag over my shoulder and slip my boots on before trailing after him to the front door. He’s pulled his large green coat off the hangar before he’s looking back down at me, brows pulled together in confusion. 

“What’ve got yeh bag for?” 

“Ah see Harry, I tend not to leave my stuff places I don’t actually live.” I laugh.

“You’re not coming back tonight?” The confusion’s not joined by a hint of sadness as his hands fall from the door knob and he turns to face front on. 

“Oh I..hadn’t thought ‘bout that. I’ve gotta water my plants.” I haven't been home in two days, I spent the whole day at Blondies yesterday then headed to Harry's after a few drinks with him and Nick. We’ve hung out around his house all day, sleeping in and finishing our last few bits of work for the week. “I can let them go a little dry I guess-” 

“Can I come to yours?” Harry cuts me off to ask. “It’s just, I haven’t ever seen it..and that way your plant’ll be fine.” 

I stay quiet for a second. Our world of sleepovers and movie marathons and home made curries for dinner existed within his house. My flat was small in comparisons to the homes of our friends, who were all, delicately put, pretty well off. Not that I wasn’t, I’d just gone into a lower paying area of my industry. I lived alone anyway so there wasn’t much point paying thousands in rent when I didn’t need much space. 

“It’s fine it you want a night to yourself I can just-” 

“It’s not that, H, I just didn't really think about how we only ever come here.” I mumble the last part, “Come back to mine, I don’t feel like going back on my own anyways.” 

I smile a little, unsure of where we stand on the whole admitting we’d grown pretty dependent on each other’s presence, front. He smiles back, twisting the door open and holding it for me as I slip under his arm. 

The car clicks unlocked and I settle into my seat. I reach over to push my seat belt in as Harry pulls his door shut and the car rumbles to a start. 

“Can’t believe Jules and T have been together so long.” He sighs as we pull out onto the main road. 

“Tell me about it,” I gaze out the window as rain dribbles lightly. “Feels like the year just went straight by.”

“They seem so happy still, like they’re still honeymooning,” Harry hums. 

“I remember when they just started going out in Uni, even then it was obvious they’d end up together.” 

“I like those kinds of people. The ones who make each other just completely themselves, ya know?” He glances over at me before turning back to the road. 

“Yeah...they’re proper soulmates aren’t they.” 

. . . . . 

“Okay but seriously, what the fuck is up with you and Harry?” Eleanor bursts out as soon as we reach the bar. We’ve been sent off to get the third round whilst the others stayed at our favourite booth of the pub we frequented. 

“Wait what?” I yell over the loud chatter of the pub, “What do you mean?” 

“You know what I mean!” She’s still waving her hand out for the bartender when she glances down at me again. “You’re tryna say you’re suddenly so close and nothing’s happened between you?” 

“We’re not that close.” I quip, “We’ve just talked a bit more lately, I guess.”

“And nothing’s happened?”  She raised a brow at me suspiciously. “You guys have left together every night for the past few weeks, just admit you have feelings for each other.” 

“No, nothing’s happened.” I sigh, unsure if I sound convincing or not. “We just live close and it’s too cold now to get the tube back so late, he’s just being nice. You know Harry...he’s like that with everyone.” 

Eleanor laughs a little, shaking her head. She places our order with the bartender when he makes his way to our side of the bar before turning back to me with her arms crossed. 

“He’s nice to everyone, but he’s not just being nice to you.” She smirks, “And he usually doesn't give just anybody his clothes.” 

She reaches out and rubs the fabric of my - Harrys - jacket between her thumb and forefinger. She looks up and quirks her brows up a little again. Before I can splutter out an explanation our drinks are being laid out on the counter beside us and Eleanor is pointing to the ones for me to carry and turning back to our booth. 

A surge of anxiety washes over me as I follow Eleanor back to the group. My breaths feel unsteady and I can’t help but dart my eyes to get a quick glance at Harry to see if he’s experiencing the same kind of interrogation. He seems fine though, laughing at something Nicks said. 

Soon we’re at the booth, slipping back into our seats and setting the drinks out in front of everyone. Harry’s eyes hover on me for a few seconds, brows raised a little in question. I smile and shake my head - everything’s fine. 

I don’t miss how Eleanor glances between us throughout the whole night. Especially not when a different two get up for the next round and Harry and I are pushed next to each other when they climb back into the available seats. Harry seems a little suspicious too. He clearly hasn’t noticed Eleanor’s strange behaviour - or doesn’t care - because he’s kept gazing down at me every now and then since we came back with drinks hours ago. When I stop looking up at him, nervous Eleanor might question me about his constant and slightly nervous glances when we’re alone, he reaches his hand under the tables and pulls mine into his lap. He squeezes our hands every now and then. He’s always a touchy, cuddly drunk. Normally it’s a bit more obvious; he’ll wrap his arms around one of us on the dance floor or lap his head on a shoulder, nothing too intimate. Just friendly. But now he’s stroking his thumb over my knuckles and tapping out the beat of the current song playing with his foot, his knee bumping mine. 

Julia and Theo are the first to go. Relief settles in me at the idea of not being the first two to leave for once. There’s no way Eleanor wouldn't’ve have noticed me and Harry sneaking the other a glance like we usually do to signal we’re ready to go, without some kind of distraction. 

“It was so lovely guys, feels like we haven’t just sat down and talked in so long!” Julia smiles, leaning into Theos side tiredly as they say their goodbyes. 

“I think I’m gonna head off too, it’s getting pretty late,” I smile, waiting for Harry to speak when Theo pipes up before him. 

“Livs, you want a lift?” Theo looks down at me. 

“Oh Olivia, that’s a good idea, you were just saying how it’s too cold for the tube.” Eleanor beams, smiling cheekily as she knows I’m the only one who’ll understand her subtle teasing. 

“Oh I-” I stutter before Harry’s squeezing my hand again and looks up at Theo. 

“I was actually gonna take her home, we’re only 10 minutes apart so it’s just easier.” He smiles politely, if I couldn’t feel his foot hooking over mine I’d believe he was just being nice and helping out a friend. 

“Yeah but you’re gonna stay a little while aren’t you?” Julia countered, “We’re pretty close, it’s fine really.” 

I nod, motioning to slide out of the booth. Harry lets me by, dropping my hand before anyone else could see. Julia, Theo and I say goodbye quickly and head out to the car park. As soon as we’re all strapped into their car, I pull out my phone and click Harry’s contact. 

Me 

Meet me at mine x

Harry 

Okay - what was that about? 

Me 

I’ll explain when u get here, just something w Eleanor

U might have been right about the jacket :/ 

Theo pulls up outside my flat and I jump out the car, thanking them quickly and waving them off. I climb the stairs of my building and click the keys in my door, pushing it open and kicking my shoes off the second I get in. After a fifteen minute frantic clean, the place is looking slightly better. There’s no time to perfect it as I hear my phone buzzing on the counter, a dorky photo of Harry in one of his infamous sweaters all sprawled out on the sofa and sticking his tongue out at me flashes the screen. 

“Hello?” 

“Hey, I’m just outside,” He talks softly, “What number are you?” 

“24, wait a sec and I’ll buzz you up.” 

I tread quickly to the button by my front door and let him up, hearing a quiet thanks over the phone and a “See you in a sec”  before the line goes dead. 

A minute later there’s a quiet knock at my door. I open it and see Harry, he looks a little more tired than when I left him forty minutes ago, he rubs his knuckles under his eyes and sighs softly. 

“Hey, come in.” I pull the door a little wider, stepping aside to let him inside. He walks past me, eyes watching the floor whilst I lock the up behind us and turn to face him. There's an awkward tension in the air that I haven’t experienced with Harry before, maybe a little that first night when I walked in on him in his kitchen, but nothing like this since we’ve gotten closer.  

“What happened?” He asks quietly, lifting his head with an uncertain look on his face.”You barely even looked at me. 

“I..” I stumble over what to say, I’ve been thinking I could just explain what Eleanor had said and have it done with but now I know we’re not going to be able to just leave this. If somebody’s going to find out about our arrangement then something would have to change. “Ellie thinks there’s something going on with us and she kept staring all night. I just, I couldn’t give her anything to be suspicious about.” 

“S’that what you mean about the jacket?” I nod, “What did she say?” 

“Just that we seemed closer, talk more I guess.” I sigh, “She didn’t believe anything I said.” 

“What did you say?” He presses. His tone is unclear, he seems less hurt now and more focussed on getting answers from me. 

“I just, I told her nothing’s happened.” I mumble, “She asked about us leaving together and I told her it was just because we lived close and it’s easier than the tube.” 

Harry bobs his head a little, taking in what I’ve just told him before laughing a little. He shakes his head and brings his palms up to his face, cursing under his breath. We stand in the quiet of my hallway before he speaks up again.

“Can we still do this?” That catches me off guard. Of course I knew we’d have to stop sometime when one of us started dating or a friend found out, I just hadn’t thought seriously about it happening anytime soon. “If she does find out, would that be the worst thing in the world?”

I shake my head, taking a step towards him to close the gap between us that’d been building my nerves throughout this whole exchange. 

“I don’t wanna stop hanging out.” I confess. Harry quirks his lips up a little, obviously relieved as he pulls me to his chest. He wraps his arms around my shoulders and rests his chin on my head as we breathe together for a moment. All the while we’ve been spending nights at his, there’s been no serious moments like this. We’ve opened up about vulnerable subjects and confessed more than we probably should have to each other, but never anything like this. There’d never been a  time I thought I could lose him. 

“What if something did happen.” He whispers into my hair. 

“Like what?” I murmur, voice a little muffled by his jacket. 

“Like..” He trails off a little and I’m pretty sure I hear him inhale a little and smell my hair. “Like what if I kissed you..or something.” 

“Or something?” My chest tightens, stomach fluttering suddenly. 

“Mmhhhmm,” He hums, “What would happen then?” 

“Eleanor would have a field day.” 

Harry laughs, shoulders shaking a little as he giggles above me. He loosens his grip on my and pushes away to create a little space to see me again. 

“Oh yeah?” He teases. 

“Uh huh,” I smile, “She’d never let us forget it if she knew she was right.” 

“And what would she be right about?” Harry lifts his hand to cup my face, tilting it slightly to make sure I’m staring right up at him. 

“..Something..happening.” I whisper, “Having feelings for eachother.” 

Harry grins, cheeks a soft rosy between the outside cold and the new blush. He strokes the pad of his thumb against my cheek and beams down at me. 

“Oh yeah?” 

“Uh huh…” 

“Really..she’d be right about that?” 

“I’m pretty sure-” 

Before I can tease anymore, Harry’s leaning down to press his lips against mine. I inhale sharply, closing my eyes and looping my arms around the back of his neck to hold us in place. His hand still holds my face firmly, thumb fluttering over my cheek a couple times before he pulls away and we both breathe in deep. 

“She’s definitely right.” He smiles, tone turning serious for a moment. “I really like you Olivia.” 

Butterflies surge through my stomach for the millionth time since he walked through my door. Blushing and happy, I tighten my arms and push my face back into his shoulder. 

“I like you too H….just a little bit.” 

“We don’t have to tell anyone, just want this to be ours for a little while.” I can hear the smile in his voice as he leans back down to whisper into my ear. 

“I want this to be ours forever.” I hum, words quiet and part of me hoping he doesn't hear my honest confession. 

A comforting quiet settles over us. I remember how tired I really am as I melt further into Harry’s body, breathing in the sweet cinnamon and vanilla scent. His breathing lulls me half to sleep as I let my eyes flutter shut and bury my head further into his neck. I feel him lifting me up as my body relaxes against his and I catch his last few words before I he’s shifting me into his arms and walking us up the stairs. 

“I could hold you ‘n listen to your voice all night long, love.” 

. . . . .    

“Oh my god!” Julia yells out, unravelling a long shawl from pristine white tissue paper. “Okay whoever got me, thank you so much!” 

She continues to squeal a little as he wraps it over her shoulders and presses the end to her nose, inhaling the lavender scent of her favourite designer brand. 

I’d only spent one Christmas with the whole group before but it was clear secret Santa was a bit of a tradition. Between the six of us we all had other friends, family and mostly, relationships. Organising a secret santa within our group just relieved some of the stress of present buying - and it was fun. 

We’re all sitting around Harry’s living room, it felt the homiest  to us after all. The kiddy advent calendar I bought for him hung by the fireplace reading December 21st. We’ve all finished our egg nogs, meaning it was officially present time. Over the next few days we’ll all be driving up and down the country to visit family, meaning today’s the last day most of us will be seeing each other. Harry had whined about me leaving, begging me to stay another day with him or better yet - spend christmas with his family up north. 

It was when I told him my own parents were spending the holidays visiting my sister and her kids in New York that his campaign started. We kissed almost three months ago now and have been on a slew of dates since. Between all the secret dinners out, brunches and farmers market trips, we haven’t found time for the talk. We had no official title. I’ve heard Harry refer to me as “m’girl” a couple times when I’ve wandered into the kitchen and overheard him on the phone to mitch, but nothing he’s told me himself. Despite this, he still insists I have to come and spend christmas with him and his close family. The idea of me hanging out with my young cousins and distant relatives apparently doesn’t satisfy him. 

“Are you serious!” Eleanor gasps as she unwraps her own present. Everyone had picked the perfect gifts for each other this year. In a pure coincidence, I ended up with Harry’s name after Nick made me trade because he’d already bought Julia’s present for her. I’ve been nervous about it all evening, I was sure he’d like it, a little too sure. That was the problem. One night, wrapped up in Harry’s bed, he’d recalled his latest tragedy to me: He’d taken shroom with Mitch on his last trip to LA and subsequently decided to skinny dip in the sea, losing his favourite mustard cords in the process. The only times we’ve seen everyone else has been with the both of us present and , to my knowledge, he hasn’t mentioned this to anyone else. The brown paper package that sat on the coffee table could invite a few more questions that I was prepared to answer. 

“Harry, you’re next!” Ellie grinned, hugging her present to her chest. 

Thanks to our early secrecy, there’s been no opportunity to tell our friends we were dating. Eleanor hasn’t stopped her constant questioning but we’ve kept up a pretty good front of excuses. It was still freezing out so it made sense for us both to climb into his car together at the end of the night. Nobody had to know we would be going home to the same house where we’d climb into the same heavenly bed and scramble eggs together in the morning. 

“I’m going, I’m going!” Harry laughs as Ellie tries to hurry him up, playing perfectly into her role as the youngest in our group. 

He pulls the first fold of paper back with his ringed fingers and immediately looks up at me as the mustard fabric shines up at him. He grins wide, beaming back at me before pulling the rest of the paper back and laying the trousers out in front of him. 

“No babe...where did you find them?” He’s running his fingers down the cord, in awe to have his favorite trousers back - or at least a copy. 

I don’t miss how Eleanor and Nick’s heads turn to share a look of shock as the pet name tumbles out. Before I can put anything together, Harry’s standing and leaning over the coffee table. He wraps his arms around my shoulders, pulling me into a hug and whispering his thanks in my ear. 

“Wait I dont - how did you know it was h-” Julia pipes up, before she can finish she’s cut off by the joint gasps of Nick and Ellie as Harry plants a wet kiss to my cheek - then my lips, and laughs at our friends reaction. 

“I knew it!” Ellie yells, pointing frantically between the two of us, Harry now having stepped over the table and come to sit next to me, pulling me into his side.

“What was-” Julia stammers, “Since when!” 

Harry’s eyes flutter down to my face. He giggles quietly when he catches on to my glare. This wasn’t exactly how I’d imagined the evening going. 

“Have you just been lying to my face for the past three months?” Ellie asks, crossing her arms over her chest and pouting her lips. 

“Five,” Harry mumbles, almost just as an inside joke for the both of us to enjoy. I slap my hand against his shoulder to shut him up but the damage is already done. 

“Five months!” Even Theo’s joining in now. “How didn’t we know?” 

“It didn’t start out like this honestly, we would’ve told you.” I try and explain, eager for this to quiet down so we could get to the roast dinner waiting for us in the oven. 

“How did it start?” Nick pokes, drawing Julia and Ellie’s attention as the same puzzled expressions adorn their faces. 

“Unimportant,” Harry brushes off, standing up to tower over us all and reaching a hand back for my own. “We better get dinner, we wouldn't want burnt potatoes.” 

Harry pulls on my arm gently, leading me out the room before anyone can object. 

In the kitchen, he picks up a tea towel and starts to check on the food, prodding at the parsnips. I roll my eyes as he ties his lavender apron around his waist and tentatively pulls the potato tray from the oven. 

“Harry..” I sigh, trying not to laugh as he turn to face me, spatula in hand. 

“Yes dear?”  

“What was that?” 

“Oh - You’ve gotta shimmy a little spatula under the potatoes or they’ll break apart-” 

“No, obviously not that,” He makes it so hard so stay stern, a giggle leaks out as he lifts a hand to rest on his hip. “Why did you do that?” 

“I want them to know.” drops his utensils, tone sincere as he takes another step towards me. “I want our friends to know how much I love you already, and you remember about my mustard cords so..it felt like the perfect time.” 

“What?” I stutter, looking up at him from where he’s pulled me into his chest. His hands rest on my waist, rings a little hold against my exposed skin. 

“You remembered the trousers I lost last month in LA -”

“You love me?” 

His eyes go a little wide, a smile peaking through as the sides of his mouth quirk upwards. Realising what he just said, he lifts a hand from my waist to rest it against my face and lean down a little. 

“Of course I love you.” He whispers, his voice a little croaky and I can see tiny droplets gathering in his eyes that make my heart flutter. 

“Love you too..” I mumble. I wipe a thumb over his cheek before pulling him down into a kiss. I feel his smile against my own, and everything’s perfect for just a second. 

“So you’ll come to Christmas with me?” 

. . . . .

Hiii I hate the ending :)

Tysm for reading !! pls leave a like or reblog (it rlly helps <3) if you enjoyed it x

[darker-soft-starker]

 Starker High School AU, Pt. 4 (Pt.1, Pt.2, Pt.3, Pt.5)

---

The last bell of the day sounds and Peter doesn’t know if he’s thankful or reproachful.

On one hand, no more classes. 

On the other: giving up an afternoon of Robotics to spend time with the modern embodiment of the antichrist.

To add insult to injury, it had been one of those long, arduous days that never seemed to end. The hours stretched themselves into impossibly bloated milliseconds as he watched the clock - and it still wasn’t over.

Dread filled him in anticipation of the afternoon and before first period he accidentally smacked himself in the forehead trying to get his locker open. It hurt and he was sure it would bruise. But if he was looking for sympathy, there was none to be found. Bucky and Nat weren’t speaking and in result their friends seemed wary and divided amongst themselves. 

It made for a rather awkward day.

His efforts to be neutral ground and to bridge the gap were met with vexation and were brushed off, so he ate lunch alone again in the library Bucky and Nat were fiery and fiercely independent, so not unexpected, but it was in his nature to want to mend the rift.

Ben used to tell him not everything was up to Peter to fix.

Easy for him to say.

Nonetheless he does his best to keep that notion in mind as he goes through the day, but everything seems off kilter. No one is talking to each other, he was so busy and caught up with all of the internal discord and schoolwork that he hadn’t eaten since breakfast. 

And May was acting super weird this morning. 

Worry gnawed at him in a way that had him forgetting about eating, whether it was about May and Thursday’s match, about the giant pimple that bloomed on his chin overnight -- or whatever inevitable torment that Stark had cooked up for them this afternoon.

It’s still a few minutes before they’re due to meet but Peter isn’t dragging his feet.

He isn’t. 

Sure, the hallways are vacant of any other students. 

And maybe he is feeling just a little petty for the time Tony kept him waiting despite his own plea not to -- besides, he still has a couple of minutes before he’s due, he’s not going to turn up early for goodness sake, as much as the part of him that says if you’re not early you’re late begs him to quicken his footsteps. 

Maybe he does stretch it to the last minute just to see Tony looking frustrated by his vintage ‘69 Mustang, the line of his mouth unmistakably displeased as the cars in the lot around him gradually disperse.

He knows the moment that Tony notices him, leant against his car, sunglasses slipping down his nose to properly glower at him. 

“This is why you’re an asshole,” Tony points a finger at him as he arrives. “I should leave you here.”

“Sorry,” Peter apologises airily, “I was trying to be anywhere but here. I’m not late though, so?”

Tony rounds the car to the drivers side, still pointing at Peter. “Don’t push your luck, Parker. Get in.”

Snickering quietly to himself, Peter heads to the other side. 

The engine growls loudly, a deep rumbling that goes through Peter’s entire body. Buckling himself in quickly, he peers around curiously while Tony reverses out of the lot. He’s reluctantly surprised. For an old car that belongs to a teenager behind at least two school fires it’s in impeccable condition. 

“Nice car,” he says quietly, mostly to himself as his gaze roams the interior with interest. 

It’s difficult to associate Tony Stark with the words nice or neat even, but that’s exactly what the car is. The interior is unscuffed, squeaky clean, the leather seats are comfortable, not a sprinkle of cigarette ash to be seen.

It really is spectacular - when the engine roars and the seats vibrate under him, Peter gets a sense of wonder and curiosity, like that one time he fell in love with DeLoreans after watching Back To The Future with Ben.

Curious, he opens the glove compartment and finds a generous stash of snacks and chocolate bars inside.

“Don’t touch anything,” Tony scowls, smacking Peter’s hands from the dash. “That’s rule number one. The interior is original and my girl is sensitive to your residue.”

Residue, he scoffs, tempted to reach out and touch more just to be contrarian.

“You got a sweet tooth or somethin’?” Peter asks instead, gesturing to the glove compartment. 

“No.”

“Can I have some?”

“No.”

“Are you gonna say anything else to me on this trip?”

“No,” Tony smiles sardonically, turning up the radio louder until the riffs of Queen’s Somebody To Love drown them both out.

True to his word, Tony remains silent over the course of the drive. It suits Peter fine, it’s not a quiet that is uncomfortable or awkward, not with the radio playing loudly from an oldies station, the wind whistling through the windows and the echoes of traffic around them. 

He thought it might be a stiff and uncomfortable drive, however the longer nothing goes unsaid between them, the more Peter feels himself relax in his chair, warmed by the heater and his limbs loosening until they feel boneless after the day he’s had.

And to his credit, Tony doesn’t appear overly tense or uneasy in having Peter in his space - in fact, he looks as chilled out as Peter has ever seen him. 

The perpetual strain around his jaw and shoulders seems eased, his posture open and casual as he drives with one hand, shifting gears with the other, sometimes tapping out a tune on the steering wheel. And whenever a song he particularly likes comes on the radio he turns up the volume, and if Peter looks over at the right moment he sees him smile privately to himself, a pleased little quirk of his lips.

Sometimes Tony speeds and puts his fingers out the window to card them through the wind, and his smile grows.

Although the amicable vibe has little to do with him, it’s probably the first time that they’ve spent more than five minutes together without hurling insults at each other. 

It’s weird.

Too wary of shattering the peace, Peter doesn’t mention it.

By the time they’re on the Queensboro Bridge the Eurythmics are playing one of May’s favorite songs. Without realising he’s doing it, he’s bobbing his head along to the tune, whispering the words under his breath, suddenly reminded of dancing in the kitchen with her and Ben, nine years old, using wooden spoons as microphones.

He’s smiling before he can stop himself, head tilted back against the seat, eyes unfocused on the skyline. It smells like Tony’s cologne and engine oil, like being enveloped in an old memory. He can see Tony looking at him from the corner of his eye but neither of them say anything.

The volume is turned up.

---

They arrive at the realtor with just minutes to spare before their appointment is due to commence. 

The traffic had built incrementally during the drive to Long Island City, the roads becoming more congested as they went. The tension in Tony’s shoulders returned as the minutes ticked closer to four-thirty, his tapping on the steering wheel out of impatience rather than good-cheer. 

Peter actually does feel a little bad now. 

Not that the five minutes he could’ve spared would have made much of a difference, but still, guilt whispers vehemently. 

It’s for that reason that he politely doesn’t say anything that could be perceived as inflammatory when Tony pockets his sunglasses and buttons up his dress shirt, checking his reflection in the rear-view mirror. Even if he’s dying to tell him that he looks like a damn nerd.

Not that he can talk. 

Heeding Tony’s words, he’d dressed similarly in his okay-est pair of jeans, a clean shirt and a cardigan. In class, MJ laughed and told him he looked like Napoleon Dynamite.

They head in, a bell above the door signalling their arrival. It’s a chain realtor, not the one they rent their apartment through, but Peter thinks there is an office right near his building. Inside, a middle-aged woman at the front desk greets them.

“Uh... we have an appointment with Kate Price” Tony gestures between them. “Appointment for Tony Stark?”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” the woman apologises in a heavily Welsh accent, “you should have gotten a notification, she’s unwell and taken the day off.” 

“Oh, um --”

“That’s okay though, I’m free, I can help you if you’d like.”

“Are you sure?” Peter queries, sharing a look with Tony who appears just as uncertain. “We’d really appreciate it.”

“Absolutely. It’s quiet anyhow. Come,” she beckons them down a narrow hallway to a set of cubicles and L-shaped desks. There doesn’t seem to be anybody else in the office, he notes, as the two are directed to sit before a desk while the woman types away at a computer. 

“I’m Miranda,” she introduces herself, holding out her hand for both of them to shake. “The appointment notes say you’re after a nearby rental?”

“Sort of, we’re just looking at some pricing. Nothing serious, we just need to take some notes, get a feel for it.”

Miranda’s glasses slide down her nose as she observes them.

“You’re a wee bit young to be moving out of home, aren’t you?”

“Oh! No,” Peter stutters, waving his hands, “we’re not actually --”

Miranda waves at him dismissively. 

“Not that I can judge. My husband and I were living together and married by nineteen, ‘course he’s dead now. We had a good run though. Anyway, good for you. Young love, it’s so sweet.”

“Young what,” Peter says.

Miranda, typing away cheerily at her computer, clearly didn’t get the memo about the school project like Kate must have.

Peter turns to Tony, who is just as wide-eyed as he is.

What the fuck, he mouths, slinking down in his chair.

I don’t know, Tony mouths back, stupefied.

“So, what are we thinking - a studio if it’s just the two of you? Something cozy?”

“Uh, well, we’re looking to grow,” Tony says, hand slapped over his mouth. He shares a bewildered, wide-eyed stare with Peter.

“Right, well, nothing wrong with knowing what you want. What’s the budget? Let me see what I can find for you.”

“Ah,” Peter shifts in his seat, trying to communicate wordlessly with Tony as their research angle quickly becomes derailed.

He tries to communicate the need for an urgent exit in a stare that he hopes is prolonged and meaningful, but is only met with equally panicked blinking from the other boy. There’s a moment spent blinking undecipherable messages at each other and before he knows it the silence has stretched on far too long.

“Well, we were thinking sixteen-hundred a month. Right... Tony?”

“Right,” he nods slowly, eyes darting between the two. “Single income, see. Parker - uh, Peter is still in school.”

“Oh, bless,” she says spiritedly, typing away at her keyboard. “It’s not easy, I know, been there. What do you do for work, young man?”

“Me?” Tony asks, gesturing to himself, shooting Peter a desperate look. “I’m... a mechanic...apprentice.”

Peter has to disguise his snort with a cough, the horse so far out of the gate there is no catching up to it.

“Good for you, darling,” she says distractedly as she busies herself with the monitor, missing the heated glare Tony sends him. “Let’s see, might be tight, but we may have something for you. One bed, one bath, a living room that can be converted to a second bedroom.”

“Great,” Peter nods hesitantly. “Where?”

“Across the street, actually,” she swivels the monitor on its stand to show them a set of blurry photos of a small apartment. “And it’s currently vacant - we can do an inspection right now, if you’d like?”

There’s a pregnant pause.

“One moment,” Tony smiles at her, holding up a finger.

There’s a screech as Tony pulls Peter’s chair across the linoleum with a single hand.

“This is getting out of hand,” Peter whisper-hisses, ducking his head.

“I know, I know, I know,” Tony squeezes his eyes shut, making placating motions with his hands that do little to appease Peter’s rising apprehension. “It’s alright, it’s under control. Listen, hear me out, we go to the inspection, have a look at the place --”

“You can’t be serious, dude, we’re sixteen.”

“We’re not going to actually fill out an application, numbnuts, listen; we go, we take some pictures, get some details about the property, add it to our report and bam, who needs a reference? Think about it! Who else is going to have this level of detail in their report?”

“I’m not exactly sure this is what Miss Ahn meant by field research.”

Tony pokes him in the forehead. 

“Think outside the box, precious. Rise above the urge to do the bare minimum and we might just get a good grade.”

Peter sneaks a glance at Miranda. “Fine,” he pokes Tony back in the chest. “But you do all the talking, smartass.”

“Fine with me.”

“Good.”

“Great.”

Tony turns back to Miranda and offers her a charming smile. 

“We’d love to. Lead the way.”

---

They door sticks when Miranda turns the key into the dead-lock.

She struggles with it momentarily, smiling assuredly at the two boys as she twists the doorknob back and forth, pressing her shoulder against the peeling wood, forcing it open with a bang.

“Here we are,” Miranda announces brightly.

The two follow her inside, sharing a reluctant look with each other as she leads them into what must be a living room, the click-clack of her heels echoing off the scuffed floorboards and bare walls.

The first thing that Peter notices is that the room, while void of furniture, seems impossibly small, even by New York standards.

With the three of them spread thinly throughout it, there are but a few inches of space between them. Barely any room for a couple of armchairs, let alone a full sofa or a coffee table.

At a glance, he takes stock of the cracks in the ceiling, the discoloured patches in the plaster and the splintered wood of the front door frame where it appears it has been forced open from the outside. The chain-lock is broken.

Tony is over by the far corner, wiping a finger through a layer of dust on the window sill. 

There’s a loud bang from upstairs.

“So, this is the living area,” Miranda says with a flourish of her wrists. “And if you follow me, this down here,” she leads them around the corner, “is the kitchen.”

The kitchen is comprised of a small formica bench, a stained backsplash and several cupboards missing their handles.

While Miranda continues to point out and inform them all of the ‘cosy’ and ‘quaint’ features, Tony slips his phone from his pocket and with a nod of acceptance, lingers back a few steps to take photographs of the apartment. 

While he’s doing so, Peter busies himself by inspecting the kitchen, toying with the dials of the oven and the two-burner stove top, testing the swing of the cupboard doors. 

Inside one of them is a dirty tea-cup and a dead cockroach.

“-- and as you can see, plenty of room for a dining table, maybe you might like to have friends over --”

He follows them into the bathroom, which is just as compact as the rest of the apartment. He tests the faucet, noting that the tiles are cracked, as is the bathtub. 

Most worryingly are the speckled spots of black spores along the higher walls and the ceiling. 

“-- it’s a big old tub, plenty of room,” she pats Tony on the stomach, “could fit two in a squeeze if you suck it in, aye? Now, this way please boys, let me show you the pièce de résistance --”

Tony guards his stomach with his hands, pouting as Miranda leads them to the adjacent room.

“This is the main bedroom,” she beams, flicking on the light. “Perfect, isn’t it?”

The two young men stall in the doorway, peering inside. 

The space, probably equipped to handle a solitary king-single and a drawer at best, isn’t particularly generous by any means. The flickering bright yellow globe seems to only highlight the blistering wallpaper and the suspiciously stained carpet.

It smells like weed and cat pee. 

“So as you can see, plenty of privacy for you two, the living room can be converted into a second bedroom if need be -- or if one of you needs to sleep on the couch,” she winks at them.

“Right,” Tony says slowly, nudging the other with his elbow. “What do you think...honey?”

“I don’t know, dear,” Peter says, elbowing him back. “What do you think?”

“I think I just threw up in my mouth a little.”

“Bless,” Miranda cuts in, leaning on the doorframe while she observes them. “You’re just adorable, you must be high-school sweethearts.”

There’s a beat of silence.

“...Y-Yes,” Tony says after a moment, voice croaky. His hand snakes out to awkwardly pat Peter on the shoulder. “...we are.”

“So, what do you think?”

“About him?” Tony points to Peter.

“About the apartment,” she laughs. “What do you think, do you like it?”

“Oh, um, I have a few questions actually,” Peter mentions, following them back into the kitchen area, ignoring the odd look that Tony sends him. “If that’s okay?”

What are you doing, Tony mouths, back turned to the realtor as he clears his throat. 

Peter holds a finger up to request a minute. There’s a struggle to each convey their message silently, however, Tony reluctantly concedes, spreading his hands wide in a theatrical approval to proceed.

He paces the room, shuffling at the bubbling linoleum that he’d narrowly tripped on coming in, bending down to inspect it.

“Do you know how long the apartment’s been vacant?” He directs his question to the realtor.

“Oh, not long,” she replies vaguely, flipping through her file. “Couple of days or weeks, I think. I’d have to check.”

Peter nods, glancing between the three, standing. 

“Umm, I noticed that the oven doesn’t heat up. I thought that maybe the gas was turned off but the stove works? Also, um, in the living room there’s a section of floorboard that’s rotting with because there’s a water leak from the ceiling?”

Miranda’s smile freezes. “Oh, is there? That must be new.”

Peter wrings his hands together, glancing at Tony, stomach swooping at his own boldness. “And, uh, I noticed that the windows stick; the water pressure is funny, too?”

“I can get that checked --”

“There’s black mold in some of the rooms. I think because there isn’t temperature control, the windows are west-facing, so it must get pretty humid in the summer.” 

Peter looks to the other boy in what he hopes seems heartfelt. “I don’t mind, I only mention it because Tony’s... well, he’s got asthma.”

Tony coughs, catching on. 

“Yes, that’s right.”

Miranda’s posture crumples at that, her professional veneer instantly wiped from her face. 

“You’re right, this place is a dump,” she admits, kicking at the floor, spreading her arms out wide. “Look at it, it’s vile. I wouldn’t let my wretched old mother-in-law live here, the old bag. I’m sorry, boys.”

“Well, actually,” Peter says, gesturing between himself and Tony, stepping closer to him. “We’d be happy to do all the repairs and look the other way about the safety violations if there’s any wriggle room on the rent?”

Miranda flicks through the papers she’s holding, adjusting her glasses as she reads through it. The adjacent neighbors can be heard yelling through the thin walls.

“We do have a margin to drop it from sixteen-fifty to... fifteen-hundred a month for the right tenants. Not going to lie, the landlord is pretty desperate. Would you like an application?”

Tony clamps his hand on Peter’s shoulder, squeezing it. “We’ll think about it. Could we get all of those terms in writing, pretty please?”

Peter grins.

---

“I can’t tell if that was genius or crazy,” Tony says after they’ve departed ways with Miranda, headed back towards the Mustang on the other side of the road. “Seriously can’t say I expected that.”

The pair jog across the road once there is a gap in traffic.

After Ben passed, Peter and May moved twice. As a young child Peter saw another apartment as just that - another place to set down his duffle of second-hand clothes and thrift store toys. But May was smart. Savvy. She calls it the Parker Discount. 

Peter shrugs when they reach the car.

“Well, just because our report is meant to focus on budget against costs, doesn’t mean we can’t find ways to save money and maximise it. Not when you consider insurance, bills, food. It all adds up.”

“I’m still trying to pick my jaw up from the floor. Didn’t know you had that in you, Parker.”

“Yeah well, you don’t know anything about me,” Peter says to the ground, kicking at the pavement, “so.”

He tries not to squirm under the weight of Tony’s considering gaze, like a vice tight on the back of his neck. He feels the moment something shifts, as if a pin pricks the wall between them, easier to breathe.

“Look, whatever you think about me, I don’t care, but you probably couldn’t find a better partner for this project. I know more about this than you do.”

“Alright, no need to crow about it, I just said I was impressed. Don’t let it get to your head.”

Peter’s stomach growls loudly over the evening traffic before he can respond. 

“Sorry,” he says, cursing the timing of his body, “haven’t had anything since breakfast.”

Tony nods to a diner across the road.

“You wanna?”

“Oh,” he objects, worried about his bone-dry bank balance, “I’m not --”

“C’mon, dickweed, my treat. Don’t leave a guy hanging, it’s not polite.”

Tony waits patiently, crossing his arms over his chest. He’s sure it’s a look that many have fallen for. A crooked, wry smile and a self-confident air that one might confuse between charm and indolence. 

He feels out of his depth for once, and isn’t sure if he likes it. But his stomach growls again and he’s got nothing to lose except for his appetite. 

“Okay,” he says, nodding. “Sure.”

---

It’s the most surreal experience he’s ever had.

He pinches himself to believe that it’s real, that he’s dining out on a Tuesday evening in the boroughs with Tony Stark. The same guy he thought might murder him just last week.

He’s still not so sure that’s out of the question, to be honest. It would be the most normal thing about this entire day.

The silence is definitely awkward this time, sat at a table outside under a weather-protective canvass while they wait for their meal. A woman with a large doberman sits nearby, giving them odd looks every so often as she speaks loudly on her phone.

Peter’s nursing a giant glass of cola. The only sounds between them since they ordered have been the clinking of ice cubes from his glass and the sound of bubbles as he blew through the straw for a lack of better things to do.

From the daggers he’s getting from Tony, he’d wage that he’s annoying him - hence the probable murder - but he’s spared by their waitress returning with their meals.

A truly monstrous pile of fries is placed before Tony, along with a burger, a sundae and a milkshake. He takes off his dress shirt to reveal a black undershirt, as if in preparation to sweat through the meal.

Big meal for a big mouth, Peter thinks, as his own BLT is set before him. 

It’s weird.

Tony is weird.

This whole damn thing is weird.

“Don’t you think this is weird?” he asks, idly picking a seed from his crust and nibbling on it.

“Yeah,” Tony sighs. 

“I don’t like it.”

“Me neither. What was I thinking?”

“Dunno,” Peter says.

It’s quiet again after that. And it’s weird. Sitting down with over a civil meal with Stark or any of his cohorts wasn’t particularly on his bucket list for junior year, but here he was, picking at his crusts, dying to pee.

Tony takes three fries from the pile and dips them into his sundae, then the milkshake before eating them.

“Dude, gross.”

Tony looks at him oddly. “Uh, no it’s not. Have you never dipped your fries in ice cream before?”

“Is that a metaphor for sex?”

“What? No, you weirdo,” Tony shakes his head. “Are you serious? You’ve never -- god, that explains everything,” he slides his fries across the table a few inches. “Though it truly nauseates me to share with you, I can’t let this stand. Try it.”

“Ew, not after you’ve touched them --”

Tony slides his milkshake closer.

“Try it, butthole. You won’t totally hate it, promise. Well, you might, but if you do it’s just gonna confirm that your taste is garbage, which is what I already think about you. Anyway. C’mon, try it.”

Peter, while staring at Tony, begrudgingly accepting a fry from the peak of the pile and scooping it in ice cream from Tony’s sundae.  

He waits for the moment the combination of textures will make his stomach turn while he hesitantly chews, but instead is pleasantly surprised that the sweet salty flavours compliment one another so well.

“Not the worst, is it?” Tony grins knowingly, placing another fry in his mouth in the same manner. “I’m right, aren’t I? It’s good. Say it. I’m right.”

“It’s alright,” Peter says, stealing another fry to make sure. “Don’t let it go to your already inflated cranium.”

The self-satisfied smirk on Tony’s lips tells him it already has.

Quiet fills the space between them again, more charged than before in a manner that Peter can’t really describe. Like as if there was a soft buzz in the air, like he would get be struck with static electricity were he to touch it. 

Not keen on getting stung, he continues eating his sandwich.

Tony on the other hand, has other ideas.

“So, Peter Parker, now that I know you’re not a total dumbass, tell me this,” he takes a deep breath, his expression grim, “ -- do you wear glasses for the aesthetic or what?”

Peter stares at him.

“C’mon. Are you aiming for nerd chic? You shouldn’t, it’s very 2012.”

“Dude, no. I know glasses are like a thing or whatever but I actually do need them to see. I’m like, blind as fuck.” 

“How blind is blind as fuck?”

“Pretty blind.”

He takes off his glasses and twirls a finger in the direction the smudge of colour that he assumes is Tony.

“Can’t see you, like at all,” he squints. “You’re just a blur. Which is the best you’ve ever looked.”

Tony takes the glasses from his outstretched hand, and he has a hysterical moment where he thinks that Tony might go so low as to steal them, but is quickly realizes he’s just trying them on. He whistles before handing them back to Peter.

“Yup, those are prescription alright. The fuck? Why don’t you wear contacts?”

Peter shrugs, slipping his glasses back on. Stark comes back in perfect clarity. 

“They’re super expensive,” he’s alright with admitting to Tony at this point. “I have some I use for matches, or for special occasions, but I dunno, I’m used to glasses.”

“Do you have to clean them all the time?”

“Yes.”

In fact, there’s smudge from where Tony has inadvertently touched the lens.

“Have you ever stepped on your glasses accidentally?”

“Yep.”

He’s done it more than once but he’ll never forget the first time, how upset he was in the moment or how he fruitlessly tried to hide his face from Ben and May so they wouldn’t see the cracks in the lenses. He cried when they found out. 

That first time was just weeks after his parents had died, and he’d already been laden with thoughts of being a bother and a financial burden on the couple. They never stopped trying to prove that he wasn’t a hardship to care for. Sometimes, on mornings like the one he had, he still can’t help but wonder how much better off they might have been without him.

They eat in contemplative silence afterwards. While he finishes his sandwich he watches as Tony surreptitiously feeds his fries to the doberman under the table, unbeknownst to the owner. He has to eat quickly to conceal the smile taking over his lips when the dog slowly shuffles closer to their table with purpose, looking at Tony with big, soulful eyes. 

Once he’s finished eating and there’s nothing left to hide his amusement, he resumes their conversation.

Clearing his throat, he points towards the Mustang once he has Tony’s attention. “Okay, your turn. What’s with the deal with the old girl?”

"My car?”

"Yeah. Explain the whole greaser vibe.”

The other boy is quiet for a moment, his gaze searching Petter contemplatively, a napkin being twisted between his hands.

“She was a hunk’a junk when I bought her, mostly scrap metal. I bought all the spare parts and got her up to scratch. I dunno, I just like cars, tinkering with them or whatever.”

“You restored her by yourself?” Peter asks, reluctantly impressed. 

He looks at the car again, trying to picture it.

It wasn’t hard to imagine Tony Stark getting his hands dirty, being the prized pig that he was, but having the wherewithal and competence to rebuild a vintage vehicle at sixteen? It would explain the whole Danny Zuko, T-Bird look, but with his bank balance, he could have easily bought a Mustang in mint condition without having to lift a finger. It would explain the streaks of oil from the other day.

Tony shrugs, twisting a napkin between his hands.

“Sorta. Anyway, quit your judging, four-eyes.”

“Not judging,” Peter holds his hands up in innocence. “I just didn’t expect that about you.”

“Yeah, well. I’m exceptional, I know.”

"That’s not the word I would use,” Peter allows. “But you’re not the worst.”

A flash of surprise briefly crosses the other boys face before it disappears. 

“High praise,” he says wryly, resting his chin on his hand. He looks Peter up and down slowly, his big, curious eyes made warm by the dying sunlight. 

“I’m as shocked as you are.”

“...You’re not the worst either, I guess,” Tony sighs like it pains him to admit it. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, we could never be friends -”

“Definitely not -”

“ - but you’re not completely intolerable. God, never thought I’d say that. Maybe I’m growing as a person.”

“Am I still a neanderthal?”

Sipping his milkshake through the straw, Tony raises his shoulders half-heartedly.

Peter kicks his foot from under the table, unwilling to take that for an answer, even if Tony kicks him back, his eyes flicking upwards briefly, his smile almost bashful. In the dying light of the sunset he almost looks soft; approachable.

“Probably shouldn’t have called you that, huh.”

“Probably not. Is that an apology?”

Tony rolls his eyes. “Don’t push it, Parker. I’m just saying you’re not completely abhorrent. Who knew.”

“I knew. I just don’t know why you’ve always hated me so much.”

He doesn’t mean for it to come out small and quiet, but he can’t take it back once the words have left his mouth.

It starts to rain.

“Sorry,” Peter says, louder to be heard over the droplets hitting the overhead umbrella heavily, immediately feeling stupid. “I shouldn’t have -- it’s not a big deal. I mean, I really don’t like you either.”

“Can I get you boys anything else?” 

Both boys turn towards the waitress who’s approached their table, lined-lips smiling down at them, a notepad in her hand.

Tony throws a fifty down on the table and stands and Peter follows suit.

“Nah,” he says, cocking his head to the door. “We’re good.”

---

“See you back at school?” Peter yells to be heard over the rain, back on the sidewalk.

“I’ll drive you back,” Tony yells back, wet hair clinging to his face.

“What?” Peter cups a hand over his ear.

“What?” Tony does the same. “I said I’ll give you a lift!”

“The station isn’t far,” he points. “I can walk!”

“Don’t make me look like an asshole! Get in, princess!”

With the rain pelting his thin shirt and thunder cracking angrily from above, he doesn’t spend his energy arguing. He gets in.

---

The short drive back is amicable, music muted, the pitter-patter of the easing rain filling the ever-growing comfortable silence between them.

With the heater going it doesn’t take long to dry off and restore the feeling back to his fingers. Heat beats from the vents beating pleasantly and along with being sated from the meal, Peter feels like he could nod off at any moment. He has to keep snapping his eyes open, although it’s difficult to adjust his focus as the sunset bleeds into a ruddy orange on the wet windshield, the lights from the cars blurring into bright long streaks of colour. 

"You’re not a total lost cause, Tony admits, slowing as they near his apartment block. It’s the first time either of them has spoken since starting the drive back. “Look, maybe it’s the fact that your face looks like a puckered asshole when you speak, I don’t know. There’s just something about you that really rubs me the wrong way."

Peter cringes as they come to a stop outside his building.

"I don't want to rub you in any way."

"And yep, here comes the mental image,” Tony’s nose scrunches, like an infant that just ate something sour. “Gross. Thanks, Parker.”

“Welcome.”

He unbuckles himself and opens the door, hesitating for a second while the moment settles between them. 

“Thanks for the grub and the ride, I guess. Text me when you get the paperwork from Miranda?”

“Aye, aye,” Tony mock salutes him. “Now get out of my car.”

Peter complies, giving him the finger by way of goodbye. 

Once the car merges and disappears into the traffic, he grins down at his hands, cheeks going warm.

It’s the thrall of finally feeling on equal-footing, he reasons, as he takes the step back up to his apartment. That’s what it is. His stomach is inexplicably still squirming as he enters ascends the floors, going over the day in his head until he arrives at his door.

It smells like tikka masala and too much ginger when he enters. He sets his backpack by the door, placing his keys on a nearby hook. 

May greets him with a sway of her spatula, sauce hitting the splashback with the motion.

“Hey bubby,” she says, gripping his shoulder as he nears and kissing his cheek.

Upon closer inspection, he finds that the kitchen is sparking clean. The floors have been mopped, the grout between the tiling is without a speck of dirt and there are faint notes of harsh disinfectant below the smell of spices.

“Oh wow,” Peter says, looking down at the chicken and bean assortment. The rice on the burner looks soggy and overcooked. “That looks great. How was work?”

She gestures vaguely but doesn’t meet his eyes.

“You hungry?”

It’s the same weird behaviour from this morning and he doesn’t have the heart to say that he’s already eaten.

Instead, he collects the cutlery and napkins, takes a stack of bowls and helps her plate up.

“Dancing With The Stars?” he asks, tilting his head towards the living room. He hip-checks her when she doesn’t reply. “C’mon, you’re not going to let me eat all alone, are ya? Tony says ‘hi’, by the way.”

He doesn’t know why he adds that last part, recalling the exchange rom the other day, but it’s worth it to see her smile.

“Alright,” she nods, scooping rice into the bowls. “How is Tony?”

Everything that happened that day bleeds away, unimportant, insignificant. 

“He’s alright, I guess.”

---

May falls asleep on the sofa hours later. 

He doesn’t want to move her, as exhausted as she is, so he covers her with an old blanket and removes the glasses from her face, placing them on the coffee table. He cleans up as quietly as he can and places her phone on charge in the living room.

On his way to bed he checks his phone for the time. Both Bucky and Tony have sent him text messages, the latter with the awaited paperwork.

Ben would be proud of him, he thinks, smiling as he reads through some of it, saving the rest of it until he’s more alert.

Maybe it wasn’t such a horrible end to the day after all.

---

*

*

---

tagging: @bylerboyfriends @ravens-starker-stuff, @starker-rays, @ironspiderstarker, @muse-of-gods, @notfor-temporaryuse, @tabbycat1220, @sugarfreecult, @rebel13lion39, @plueschpop, @spideravocados, @jellybbunny,  @booktrashme, @elfkido, @mycatislickingmybedsheets, @queerghostboyo, @disneyprincessdominatrix, @cherrygoldlove @starkerflowers @starkeristheendgame @thewolffearsher @starkersugar

[nitannichionne]

If He Was YOUR Fan Chapter 26: Come What May

CHAPTER 26: COME WHAT MAY                                         

You are not hearing this, you tell yourself, you are not hearing this! You envision the look on Henry’s face if you decide to tell him this—you have to tell him this. You shake your head, wanting to put your head over your ears as the doctor spoke. “What do you mean?” You ask the doctor. “It’s been eleven weeks, and I’m here, what’s the problem?”

“We cannot give you the injection until we know you are not pregnant.”

“But—”

“I know this is an inconvenience, but we took blood and urine and we see the depo provera is substantially weakened in your system and it hasn’t been twelve weeks. Come back in two weeks and test, and if you’re negative, we will give you the shot.”

You gasp. “Doctor—”

“Your injection seems to be weakening after an estimated eight weeks.”

“Eight weeks?!” your eyes fill with tears, shaking your head. “So—”

“So, you need to be careful after eight weeks instead of ten or eleven,” he nods. “I’m sorry, it’s the best we can do.”

 Stella calling your name breaks into your thoughts from earlier in the day. Your misting vision clears as you look at the ring on your hand. “Hey, you okay?”

You don’t want to talk about it. You don’t want to talk to anyone, not even Henry.

“You’re scaring me,” Stella whispers, taking your hand. “I won’t tell anybody.” She looks around and whispers even softer. “You and Henry fighting?”

We might be, you think.

“I see the way he looks at you,” Stella encourages. “I’m sure you will work it out, okay?” She smiles. “If not, we’ll beat him down with bags of potatoes!”

You hug her and she slowly brings her arms around you. “Thank you!”

“No problem,” she says slowly. “Whatever it is, it’s gonna be okay, alright?”

You nod, half believing her words. This was major.

You meet Henry at his trailer as you have every Friday for awhile now. You see him and you try to brighten.

He smiles and you smile, not quite trusting your voice yet. He kisses you in greeting and says, “Let me get my stuff. Stay here, Kal.”

“Hey, boy,” you say softly, petting him. “Hard day at the office?” You laugh softly as he licks your face in greeting.

He drives you to his home, and you sit as he starts a fire. “Did the shirts arrive today?”

“Uh, yeah, I got a notification on my phone.”

“You really want to dress for the party?” he asks, laughing softly, bringing you a glass of wine and going back into the kitchen.

“I thought it’d be fun,” you shrug. “Besides, we’re just wearing shirts, really.”

“Yeah, District 12 shirts.”

“I thought it’d be simple, and it won’t really feel like a costume, you dress up enough as it is.” You sit, thinking of the party next weekend. Would he even want to go? How is going to react--

“Okay, what’s going on?” He stands over you with a wooden tray of bread, butter and cheese with grapes.

“What?” you look up from your glass. Sometimes the man moves too quietly, you think.

“You’re remarkably quiet,” he smirks. “Everything okay?”

Your eyes drop to your lap, and your smile fades.  How do you tell him?

“Wait, you had an appointment today, right?”

You can’t look at him at first, but when you do, you regret it. He looks upset and angry and you want to melt into the floor.

He sits next to you, and looks at the glass of wine in your hands. His jaw tightens. “Okay. Start talking.”

“I have to wait two weeks to take the shot.” You stare at the fire.

“Why?”

“Because the drug weakened in my system.”

“Shit.”

“Henry—” you reach for him and he stiffens. “Henry!”

“If you knew that the damn thing didn’t work—”

“Hold it,” You raise a hand. “You think I actually knew that?”

“How could you not?”

“Easy enough,” you say. “I don’t normally do this. I don’t sleep around!”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I haven’t been in a lot of relationships, especially like we are.”

“You mean, unprotected-reckless?”

“Reckless.” You repeat. “So I’m a reckless choice?”

“I didn’t say that--” he shakes his head.

“I have my own shit, you know!” you snap. “I don’t need you-have a place of my own back home, and I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself, thank you!” Tears sprang to your eyes, ruining your declaration of independence.

“I didn’t say you couldn’t,” he says, coming close.

You back away, and he whispers your name as he extends his hand.

“I- I don’t want it like this!” You shake your head. “I want you to want me…” I hit my chest hard, making him flinch. “for me! I don’t want to be some burden, or a problem or—"

“What do you think that ring means?”

“I don’t know!” you say, wiping your tears furiously. “Stella gasped when she saw it, said she’d tell me later, but we didn’t have girl time this week—”

In two strides he has you in his arms. “I know you are not like that, alright? You don’t need me, but you want me.”

“Yes—”

He raises your hand with the ring on it. “Think, sweetheart, this is a—”

You look at it. “Triquetra.”

“Know what it means?”

“Father, Son, Holy Spirit.”

“Yes, that’s the Catholic definition.”

You take a deep breath. “Earth, sea and sky?”

“Well, that would be the pagans,” he smiles gently. “But this is a promise ring. It means you are exclusively seeing someone who loves, honors and protects you.”

“Not obey?” you joke tearfully.

He laughs. “Oh, that’s an entirely different ring!” He kisses your ring. “Whatever happens, we’ll face it together, alright?”

You look up at him hopefully. You’ve never felt so vulnerable, so wonderful, thrilled and scared.

“Come here,” he purrs, closing his arms around you. You put your head on his chest and listen to the strong and steady beat of his heart. You close your eyes. “Now, what did the doctor say?”

“Going forward we should be careful after 8 weeks.”

“Eight?!” he repeats.

“Yeah.”

He takes a deep breath and sighs, “Alright.”

“What if—”

“Let’s wait and see, alright?” he says, looking down at you.  “Whatever it is, we’ll face head on.”

You cuddle by the firelight and watch random movies, much like last weekend-plenty of kisses and hugs, but no sex. You try to be understanding, realizing that abstinence or protected sex would be the way to go until the follow up, but you miss how he feels, and at a time like this, his touch would be the ultimate comfort. He took it easy on you when you dueled and introduced archery instead, something he promised he would do, but there were mixed messages all around. Was he not touching you because he didn’t want to-because now you represented a possible change in life? Was he not touching you because you are now precious and fragile, and he wants to be sure his seed stays intact? Was he being nice until he knew for sure and planned on making you his latest liaison?

During the weekend you kept looking at the ring. He gave it to you, didn’t he?

After he falls asleep Saturday night, you lay awake. You inhale the scent of his arm, which is draped over you. You run your cheek along it, kiss his hand and close your eyes to sharpen your other senses since your sight doesn’t come into play.

Then he stirs.

You gasp softly as he turns you onto your back, and kisses you tenderly. You release a whispered cry of relief as your arms fold around him, welcoming him. Your heart aches for him. You rub your cheek against his stubbly one, and you are breathing hard. His body presses against you, his hips between your legs, his mouth at your throat, as your fingers stroke his back and neck. You want to say it, you want to, and you feel like a coward. You arch to him, tears coming to your eyes as your mouths finally meet and mate. He kisses them away.

He grinds against you and as you kiss, he unzips your hoodie and pushes it off your shoulders. You help him get his pullover and shirt off, and you return to each other’s kiss desperately. With one hand he unfastens and unzips his jeans to remove them, and before you can do it, he tugs successfully at your leggings, sliding them down your legs. You feel shy as the air feels cool between your legs, your panties already wet. He trails kisses up your legs, his fingers caressing you intimately and making you raise your hips and remove them. You spread yourself under him in offering, feeling emboldened by need, by vulnerability, by love.

He crawls over you slowly and kicks his underwear off. You hear the telltale sound of ripping packaging and feel him shift his weight. He kisses you deeply as he gently moves inside you and begins to move. He still feels so good—his whole body, every sight, feel, and scent, his touch—close as before. He will not leave you, you believe it now.

Though you appreciate his making the adjustment, you wish you could feel him again. You know how much larger the tip can be than the shaft, how he surged and glided inside you so deeply and your body clasped him even as he seemed to widen and fill you. You could feel his main vein sometimes, throbbing as he controlled it, taking you both higher till you exploded together. It held him back, held you apart, and you found his embrace tighter, his kisses and touch more passionate.

“Love, honor, protect.” He whispers against your lips before gently kissing your ringed hand. He intertwines his fingers with yours.

“Love, honor, protect,” you whisper back. You lean up to kiss him holding him with your other hand. And no matter what, you would. Come what may.

Thanks for the support! Let me know if you want to be added to the list. I look forward to your comments! 

@mistress-of-ward  @nuggsmum  @messyinsomniacbookgirl  @jencanbeyouryengeralt  @sweetdreamsofgelato  @maryann84  @omgkatinka  @the-soot-sprite  @viking-raider  @keanureevesisbae  @henryobsessed  @summersong69 @kinbhot4henners  @sunshine96love  @michelehansel  @radofrivia  @thelastsock  @michelehansel  @tumblnewby @henryobsessed @defffcc  @tenaciousneckpartypainter  @rn7rocksn @mrskikkirazz  @daydreamin83  @ruthoakenshield  @musicartmayheminmyheart  @michelehansel  @tumblnewby  @henryobsessed  @defffcc @tenaciousneckpartypainter @rn7rocksn  @mrskikkirazz  @daydreamin83 @ruthoakenshield  @musicartmayheminmyheart  @mis-lil-red @kaatelyynn  @forallthebrokenheartedthings  @alphacancrii @liquorlaughslove @designerewriterchic @sofiebstar @tamychm  @nikkilynn303 @circesgirl @aaescritora @xoxohannahlee  

[kawaii-mango]

Babysitter Blues

Surprise @kitkatzrgr8! I’m your Secret Santa! 😁

I hope you enjoy this bit of Donald bonding with his boys for @ducktalessecretsanta2020​

Fanfiction.net

Note: Mrs. Birdwell is the babysitter shown in "Woo-oo!'

Chapter 1

The delicious scent of toasted bread wafted through Donald Duck's room. Even in a deep sleep, he couldn't help but smile. The pleasant aroma brought back memories of his dad cooking breakfast, or even better, his old roommate José Carioca making tasty pão na chapa.

But a sudden "CLANG" startled Donald and he fell out of his hammock bed.

As he sat up, he groaned and grumbled about his sore back. Even over his complaints, he heard three whispering voices coming from the living area. He frowned.

Something was up.

Donald stood to his feet and removed his sleep mask, but nearly fell over once he saw how bright it was outside.

"Oh no."

He scrambled over to his nightstand to check his phone, but when he pressed the button to check the time, the "dead battery" logo flashed dimly onscreen. His heart sank.

He overslept!

"Oh no! Oh no! Oh no!" He dashed out of his room. His poor boys! They must've been starving!

Once he got to the kitchen area, the three ducklings stopped what they were doing and looked at him. Huey was sitting at the table spreading peanut butter on toast, next to him was Louie who was eating cereal, and Dewey was sitting on the floor eating a toaster pastry and playing video games.

"Good morning, Unca' Donald!" They greeted.

Before Donald could speak, Huey jumped up and ran over to him. "Look, Unca' Donald! I made breakfast for you!" He proudly held up a plate with two pieces of peanut butter toast with banana. "Don't worry, I used a plastic knife."

"Thanks, Huey." Donald said. "Boys, I-"

"C'mon sit down and eat!" Dewey hopped up and grabbed his arm to lead him to the table. Huey set down the plate and pulled out a chair and Dewey sat him down. "You've got a busy day ahead of you!"

Donald sat down. "I-"

"Don't forget the milk." Louie poured him a glass and slid it across the table, stopping just short of his plate."

Any initial guilt Donald was feeling about oversleeping was quickly being replaced by suspicion again as he looked at their smiling faces then down to his plate and back at them again.

"Okay, what's going on here?" He asked, raising a skeptical eyebrow.

"Nothing." Dewey answered, a little too quickly for Donald's liking.

Huey sighed. "Okay, Unca' Donald, you caught us." His brothers looked at him, but Huey simply shook his head causing them to back down.

"We don't want a babysitter anymore!" They said.

"Especially not one as boring as Old Mrs. Birdwell." Louie added.

"And we won't be home alone. We'll have each other!" Huey asserted.

"Yeah!" Dewey piped up. "Between the three of us, we're like 24-years-old!" The boys looked at their uncle with wide, toothy smiles; however, his expression remained unchanged.

"Sorry, boys, but no dice."

"But Unca' Don-"

"No being home alone until you get to high school, and not a moment before."

"Yes, Unca' Donald."

**********

Thankfully, the rest of breakfast proceeded without incident, and Donald returned to his room to get ready for the day. Before he began, he plugged up his phone to get some charge and sat in his hammock. He figured he could spare a few minutes to check and see what he might've missed since last night

Moments later, the phone's loading screen appeared and shortly afterwards, his lock screen. Not soon afterwards, notifications began to appear: News from Duckburg, a reminder about his phone's limited storage space, a special Cola Crash event, and finally, a voicemail from Mrs. Birdwell.

The last one puzzled Donald. Mrs. Birdwell seldom called unless it was a holiday or she was just letting him know that she would be running late (which was even more rare).

He shrugged it off. Maybe she was just checking in. This had been a busy week after all.

**********

Meanwhile, the boys sat in the living room, glaring at each other, yet avoiding the other's stare at the same time. Neither has said a word to the other since breakfast, but for Dewey, the silence was starting to become maddening.

"So what now?" He finally spoke up.

"I don't know, do you have any other bright ideas, Llewelyn?" Huey cut his eyes at his green-clad brother who responded with an equally dirty look

"You're the smart one, figure it out yourself, Hubert." Louie crossed his arms and turned away from him. Huey responded by also turning away from him in a huff.

Dewey scowled at his brothers. "Well somebody needs to come up with something!" He shouted. "I'm not about to have Old Mrs. Birdwell cramp my middle-school style!"

Louie scoffed. "Face it, Dewey, we don't have a snowball's chance of changing Unca' Donald's mind right now." He pouted and slumped down further on the couch.

"'Right now'." Huey echoed. "Hmm…" He got up and walked away. Dewey and Louie exchanged curious glances and followed him.

"Wha'cha got?" Louie asked.

"Well, it's going to take a lot more than just one day of showing Unca' Donald that we're responsible." Huey pondered. "If we're gonna get him to change his mind, we're going to need to keep this up for much longer."

"No problem!" Dewey said as Louie let out a disgusted grunt. "How much longer are you thinking? A couple of weeks? Maybe a month?"

"A year, at least."

This time Louie and Dewey let out disgusted grunts. Before Huey could speak again, Donald appeared in the hallway.

"Okay, then. Let me know what the doc-" He froze when he saw his nephews."Er, keep me posted. Bye." He ended the call and smiled at them.

"Are you ready to go, boys?" He added a nervous laugh. In response, they gave him looks that ranged between suspicious to concerned

"Unca' Donald, what's going on?" Huey asked.

Donald's grin dropped slightly. Instinctively, he wanted to tell them that nothing was wrong so that they wouldn't be worried, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. Honesty was the best policy after all, especially given the situation.

"Boys," he started, "Mrs. Birdwell has just been taken to the hospital."

Chapter 2

A heavy, almost suffocating, cloud of gloom and guilt had fallen over the unusually quiet Duck household.

The triplets had retreated to their room and Donald was left alone in the living area. To get his mind off of things, he decided to straighten up the room a bit; however, his efforts quickly proved to be fruitless.

He couldn't help but feel guilty for ruining his nephews' day. Couldn't he have just waited three seconds to finish his call before stepping out into the hallway? In fact, he could've waited to call and check on Mrs. Birdwell. If she had just gone to the hospital at that time, it would probably be a couple of hours before she knew what was going on.

Donald sat on the couch and let out a ragged sigh as he placed his head in his hands. Although he was hoping for the best now, it was a sobering reminder that Mrs. Birdwell was up in age and won't always be around.

He shook his head, took a deep breath, and exhaled.

He wasn't about to let his mind fall in a whirlwind of worries, especially when there were more important things to think about.

Like cheering up his boys.

And he knew just the thing to do it.

**********

"Hiya, boys!"

The triplets muttered some form of greeting back to their uncle as he entered their room. Donald's smile dropped at seeing his normally rambunctious kids look so down. Huey was laying on the floor halfheartedly flipping through his Junior Woodchuck Guidebook, Dewey was sitting upside down in a chair, and that lump on the bed meant that Louie was hiding under the covers.

Donald made his way through the room and sat on the bed. "So," he began, "are you all just gonna sit around here all day?"

"Mm-hmm." Huey said as he turned a page.

"Yup." Dewey responded.

"Pretty much." Louie answered from underneath the bed covers.

"Oh, I see." Donald looked down at his folded hands. "Well, I suppose that-"

Suddenly his phone rang. Huey and Dewey looked up at their uncle with concerned anticipation as he hurried to answer the phone.

"Hello?" Donald paused for the response. "Okay. … I see." By this time, Louie peeked his head from under the blanket.

"Well, are you up for talking to the boys?" Donald smirked at them as he saw their faces light up. "They were- … But I- … I didn't m- … Yes, ma'am. … Okay. … Okay, hold on a second." No sooner than Donald could remove the phone from his ear, to put it on speaker, the boys already crowded around him.

"Hi, Mrs. Birdwell!" They greeted.

"Hello, boys." Although she sounded tired, they were just glad to hear from her.

"How are you feeling?" Dewey asked.

"Much better." She replied. "But I probably won't be back for another week."

"That's okay, Mrs. Birdwell" Huey responded. "We'll miss you, but we want you to get better."

"Oh, you boys are so sweet."

"Okay, boys, I think we should let Mrs. Birdwell rest." Donald said. "We'll talk with you later."

"Bye!"

"Goodbye."

Once he hung up, Donald smiled at his nephews. "Well, you boys seem to be in better spirits." He mused.

"Yeah." Louie said, looking away.

"We're sorry about earlier, Unca' Donald." Huey said.

"Yeah, we didn't mean all of that stuff we said." Dewey added. "Well, we didn't mean to be mean about Mrs. Birdwell, but-"

"I understand, boys." Donald ruffled Dewey's hair. "You're growing up. It's only natural to want to be more independent."

"Yeah." They agreed.

"And maybe I need to step back and give you room to grow."

"Yeah!"

"And maybe we don't need to go to Funso's this afternoon."

"Yeah-wait!" The boys protested and pleaded with their uncle to reconsider that last decision.

"Okay, never mind that last one." Donald laughed. "Are you ready to go?"

"YEAH!"

Before he could get up to move, his nephews tackled him with hugs. "Thank you, Unca' Donald!' They said. Seconds later, they ran out of the room chanting the familiar slogan, "FUNSO'S FUNZONE! WHERE FUN IS IN THE ZONE!"

Donald laughed. Even though deep down he was still worried about the future, between Mrs. Birdwell and even his boys growing up, he decided to put that aside for now and just enjoy the moment.

And later on, some decent pizza at a fair price.

[you-guys--are-losers]

Celebrity AU for Spideychelle

//Ooh, I like this! I think I’m gonna make it kinda an Irondad fic as well, to justify why Peter is a celeb.  We’re gonna try a new format for this one. Hope you guys enjoy! 

michelle jones has never much liked peter parker. 

it’s not a topic she discusses often, especially out her inner circle, because the opinion is probably one of the most unpopular she could have. 

even so, as soon as it is pulled from her in confidence by a few friends, the reaction is unanimous, and mj is left on defense. 

of course she knows about all that he and his mentor, tony stark, have done with the capital that they made off of their joint film, yes, she’s aware of the amount the two actors give to charity, and she obviously isn’t against the powerful political stance they aren’t afraid to take onscreen and in interviews. she is in complete support of all of it. 

and that’s the damn problem. 

everyone in the industry loves both parker and stark. they’re supposed to be incredible to work with on a project, they stay out of trouble and involved with charity in their free time, and they have a generally warm and playful dynamic. their swarms of fans all agree that the pair of them are nothing less than perfect.

and no matter how much she wants to, mj just can’t buy into it. 

mj’s own rise to hollywood wasn’t dirty, but it wasn’t easy, either. she had to fight for every scrap of ground, audition until she wanted to drop, defend her right to take a stance on something and to not look perfect offscreen with everything she had. 

and for them, it just seems like it’s so easy. 

it doesn’t create any issues for her at first, really. mj just doesn’t bring them up in interviews, and if they’re ever mentioned she just smiles, nods, and lets someone else answer the question. the few times that peter’s brought up as an example of some of the men of hollywood, mj just responds by pointing out that she’s alright being single, thanks. 

but then she gets the call. 

it’s not a bad call, not at first; in fact, it’s a really good one. she’s got the role, she’s going to be playing her dream role in the remake of moulin rouge, and from here on out it’s going to be all sparking diamonds and love songs…

until they tell her who she’s going to be acting opposite. 

they brought him in from the outside, they tell her, and he’s apparently got a voice like a dream (because of course he can sing), and they are looking forward to the way the two will be interacting onscreen.

but all mj can think when she hears the name peter parker is shit. 

because now she’s going to be working with the one actor in hollywood she just can’t figure out. 

she manages to put it from her mind in the craze that follows her role being announced. she posts a few stories hinting at the announcement, of course, and one cryptic selfie on snapchat taken with the filter that makes her face and eyes seem to gleam. once the news breaks, her phone blows up with twitter, instagram, and snapchat notifications in a way that gives her a rush of excitement. the articles pop up minutes later, and she likes a few tweets strategically and replies to a couple comments before posting about the role to confirm it and then falling asleep. it’s a good night, and she manages not to think about it, but the little, nagging thought still lingers. 

the next morning, when mj checks her phone after checking in with her agent, the fans are already at it. 

there are already edits, conspiracy theories, and a million people commenting how good the two of them are going to look onscreen together, how well they’re going to fit their roles, and how their real-life chemistry is going to be interesting. 

mj is about to close her phone when she sees an update from him, on his instagram story. she can’t keep herself from clicking on it, no matter how much she wants to.

when his face pops up, bright and friendly as always, mj blinks. he’s outside, walking through what looks like his yard wearing a button-up that’s rolled up at the sleeves, blinking into the sun. she has to catch herself to keep a smile from creeping onto her face. she knows he’s one of the most successful people in the industry, but he honestly just looks like a dork as he squints into the camera. 

“i’m so excited to announce that i’ll be starring as christian in the 2026 remake of moulin rouge!” he exclaims in a voice that mj knows instinctively is genuine. “i can’t wait to work with so many talented people on this film, and i’m humbled to even be given the opportunity to be a part of this incredible project. i’ll probably update a ton, but i’ll let you guys know once we’ve started! thank you all so much for your support, and i can’t wait to share this amazing film with you.” 

the whole time, mj is watching for all of the markers of insincerity. she’s used to spotting them in other actors and celebrities, and at this point, she’s honestly got it down to an art. and this time should be especially easy: part of her wants him to be lying, so it should be that much easier to spot it. 

but she can’t. not a whiff of insincerity or hesitation, not a single statement that feels a bit strained, no dodgy body language. and mj knows, as she watches it play, that he means it-- every word. so, after a moment, she closes out of the app and puts away her phone for the next few hours. 

things go pretty well until the day of the read-through. mj is still buzzing with the feeling of having earned the part, and she has watched the movie at least six times (though of course she would never admit it). 

and she doesn’t even want to admit to herself that her heart stops a little bit every time she hears “your song,” because come on. no one can really have that much passion for someone else, not in real life

but when it comes to the read-through, mj knows that this is the real beginning of everything. a table read is going to show how the actors interact with one another, meaning that she’s going to have to figure out how she works with parker and with the rest of the cast-- and fast. 

when mj shows up in clothing that is slightly more dressed up than casual, she is relieved to be one of the first. she takes her seat behind the label with her name and the character name “satine” in large script and busies herself with taking out the script she has already begun memorizing, as well as reaching for her tumbler full of tea.

it's then that mj hears a voice from beside her, one that greets her, "hello. are you michelle jones?"

mj stiffens slightly, taking a deep breath. she knows that voice because it is the one that played from her phone all those days ago. mj raised her eyes to his face, but it's much different in person.

sure, he's still got brown hair and eyes and what she supposes is an attractive face, but it's not just that. in person, mj can see the slight smile lines on the edges of his eyes, the easy grin on his crooked lips that makes her feel slightly warm, and the muscular nature of the forearm that he is extending to her in hopes of a handshake. if she breathes in deeply, she can smell a scent that she thinks might be lemongrass.

mj keeps her face neutral, however, as she peers up at him, nodding with a polite smile. she returns the shake, trying not to think about how easily her hand slides into his.

"yes, i am. nice to meet you," she replies, though she knows that if she had the choice she wouldn't continue the conversation.

or at least, she'd like to think she wouldn't.

his hand lingers in her for a moment, then he takes it back, sitting next to her. "i'm peter," he introduces himself as he sets the cup of coffee in his other hand down in front of him. "peter parker."

mj holds back what might be either a laugh or a scoff, she's not sure which. of course she knows who he is-- everyone does, so why does he bother with the formalities? but something tells mj it's sincere, so, after a moment she responds, "i know." her statement is not unkind, but it's simple, leaving it to him to continue as she opens her script.

"i'm really excited to get to work on this together, i think it'll be great," peter continues. mj can hear the earnest, truthful tone in his voice, and when she hazards a glance over at him, she can see the look reflected in his eyes. it makes him appear younger than he is. "i was really glad to hear you got the part."

mj glances over at him, more hesitant than ever now. she is quiet for a moment as she processes it, and once she is sure he's not screwing with her, she replies, "oh, thank you." she pauses for a fraction of a second before blazing ahead. "do you mind if i ask why?"

mj could almost swear a rosy hue comes to his cheeks, but he doesn't look away or allow himself to appear flustered. instead, peter parker says something that catches her off guard.

"i've always admired you," peter admits, not looking away from her. "i respect what you stand for and that you haven't allowed success to change you, and i can't imagine how difficult it must be to maintain the independence and dignity you do in this industry. i've always thought it was incredible."

mj stares at him, and for a moment she might forget to breathe, because what the hell?

peter parker, hollywood's biggest heartthrob, admires her? and not just for anything, but for her values?

what is she supposed to say to that?

luckily, mj is saved from having to respond when their new director begins to speak, but mj isn't listening to a word she's saying. the actress is far too busy making some attempt to figure out how on earth she is supposed to handle this turn of events.

after a brief interlude, they begin immediately-- it's time to get into the script, and mj is so ready. she isn't in the beginning scenes, so mj takes a chance to watch the cast perform.

they're incredible: mj can see why they were all chosen, and the chemistry between them is perfect. they are on the same wavelength, and though of course there are mistakes, there are also many moments that hint at the perfect piece they're going to create together.

but for some reason, mj can't stop watching him.

he's a young writer in the film, and it suits him perfectly. the soulful, passionate, naive character plays out perfectly through peter parker-- and he doesn't just go surface level. peter acts with such an incredibly subtlety that mj can't look away, and she's grateful when her character enters so that she can stop staring.

for a while, she gets along perfectly with the other actors who she interacts with, and she loses herself in the flow of the acting. it's not complete yet, but for a few moments here and there mj can feel satine taking control of her rather than allowing mj to continue as a pale imitation. it's a character study, and she's learning how to be someone else-- of course there's a learning curve. but it's exhilarating, and for a moment she forgets about peter parker.

until it comes to their first scene together, which begins as a comedy but continues on into a love song.

of course they're not singing together yet, but they're doing the dialogue, and that's enough. at first, it's just comedy, and watching peter's character, christian, attempt to figure out the antics of her own character is amusing. she gets a few laughs out of the rest of the crew, too.

but then things start to become more serious, and they begin to speak about love for just one sweet moment between.

and when he looks at her?

for a moment, satine falls away completely, and mj is all that is left. so it is mj who sinks into those dark brown eyes that are looking at her like she is the sun, like nothing else could possibly shine as bright.

no one in the room moves, breathes, says anything as peter and mj speak, their words weaving the scene together around them, turning chairs and tables and empty coffee cups into rich silks and shining lights and summer nights.

the moment lingers, only to be broken by the entrance of another character, and mj shakes away the spell.

and she plunges forward in order to continue, shoving down the disappointment she feels deep in her chest.

because maybe those feelings exist, but they're for another day.

and she's not ready to admit that maybe, at least when it comes to peter parker...

she could have been wrong.

[swedesarethebest]

Show Me What I’m Looking For - Brayden Point (2)

Warning: bad english (🙃) and light swearing maybe (???)

Image source: @dangerouslyaddictivethings

Enjoooooy! ☺️☺️��️

You weren’t exactly sure why you were so upset: firstly, you were disappointed in yourself, because you considered yourself a strong, independent and proud woman. The fact that you were so kind to a stranger that literally punched you in the face made you feel ashamed. You should have said something, or should have made a huge scene, but as the day passed by you realized that wasn’t you. Growing up with two brothers you were used to physical contact and you only got stronger when you started playing a sport that was more on the physical and rough end. In this case it was your pride that got more hurt, not necessarily your eye. Secondly, you were waiting for a text or a call from Brayden. It bothered you so much that he didn’t contact you after two days, that you were barely able to work. Your mind was constantly on the blue-eyed guy that punched you in the face and you simply couldn’t focus. You were checking your phone every minute without even noticing and you immediately checked every single notification the moment your screen lit up. That’s exactly what happened when your phone started ringing during your lunch break, but you were disappointed to look at your best friend’s name on the screen.

“I could be a total bitch about you leaving me at the club two days ago, but I had a fun night with one of the guys from the Lightning so you’re forgiven.” She said as soon as you answered the phone and you rolled your eyes, because that was exactly like her and you loved your best friend with all your heart.

“How did you meet a guy from the Lightning?” you asked in disbelief. You were aware that the Lightning was the hockey team in Tampa and they were quite the big deal, but you were not really into them. You liked hockey, but you were not exactly a huge fan. Your brothers, on the other hand, were die-hards and you had to go to games with them every time they visited you.

“A few of the guys were at the club that night, they were celebrating a huge win. But you owe me an explanation, why did you leave?”

“A guy punched me in the face as I was trying to break up his fight with my idiot of an ex, after that I wasn’t in the mood to stay.” You didn’t want to mention what happened outside the club, because you knew she would make a huge deal out of it, taking you out to that bar every night until you and Brayden ran into each other again.

“No way.” She screamed and you had to distance your phone from your ear. “Tell me everything about it.”

You told her everything from running into your ex to the point Brayden helped you up, skipping the part when you talked and he asked you out, and how you got home with your eye completely swollen. She listened in awe and reacted by calling you a “badass”. You heard your phone beeping, signaling that someone else was trying to call your number.

“Hey, I think a client is trying to reach out to me, so I’m gonna hang up. Talk to you later!”

“K, love you bitch!” you heard her say as you hung up on her, answering the other call.

“Hello!”

“Hey, this is Brayden! The guy that punched you in the face.” You were taken aback by his deep voice and you felt the shivers running down your spine.

“Oh hey! Didn’t expect you to actually call.” You said hitting yourself in the forehead because of how stupid you sounded.

“Yeah, I figured the least I could do after what happened was to ask you out for dinner.”

“I would like that.” You answered a huge grin forming on your face.

“Are you free tonight?”

“Yeah.”

“Can I pick you up at 7?” you nodded, but quickly realized that he couldn’t see it.

“Yeah, of course. I’ll text you my address.”

“Okay, I’ll see you tonight then.”

“K, bye.” You ended the call and started giggling. Your colleagues looked at you weirded out. You went back to work getting more and more excited as the time passed by. After you finished, you quickly drove home to have enough time to get ready. You were not girly by any means, but you wanted to impress Brayden, so you put on a nice shirt with skinny jeans and your favorite shoes. You put on light makeup and straightened your hair. You got ready 15 minutes before 7 so you sat down on your couch your dog immediately jumping on beside you and resting its head on your lap. You heard your phone going off so you got up and ran up to the device. You noticed Brayden’s name on your screen and answered with a huge smile on your face.

“Hey, I’m downstairs, do you want me to go up?”

“No, it’s not necessary. I’ll come down in a second.” You answered already getting out of your apartment and locking the door. As you left your building you immediately spotted Brayden leaning up to the side of his car. He was dressed casually and you relaxed, because you were feeling a bit anxious for not dressing up a bit more.

“Hey!” you greeted him with a small smile that he returned. He opened the door of his car and you climbed in. He shut the door and quickly got into the driver’s seat.

“You look beautiful.” He said looking into your eyes. You muttered a small “thanks” as you felt your cheeks getting redder and redder. You looked away from him, but you still felt his eyes on you. He started the car and quickly got out of your neighborhood.

“Is it okay if we go to my place? I didn’t exactly find a restaurant that had every kind of food and I didn’t exactly know what you like so I figured we could make something together.” He said looking at you at a stoplight.

“Perfect.” You said smiling. You were not exactly in the mood for a crowded restaurant so you liked the idea very much. You thought it was nice of him to take into consideration your food preferences. The rest of the ride was quiet and you were looking out the window. You noticed that you were in a really nice neighborhood close to the city center. He parked in front of a really nice building. You got out of the car before he had a chance to open your door. You thought it was a nice gesture, but you considered yourself a strong and independent woman, you didn’t want him to open your doors every single time you went out. It was simply too much for you. He opened the trunk and got some grocery bags out of it. You wanted to help, but he nicely refused and you got into the fancy apartment building. As you stepped into his apartment you were a bit shocked. It looked really nice, clean and had a beautiful view over the city. You noticed his suitcases beside the couch. He realised that you were looking at them and spoke up.

“I was away due to work for a few days. Just got back earlier on today.”

“Where did you go?” you asked looking at him. He started scratching the back of his neck looking down to his feet.

“Miami.” He answered looking up at you.

You both took your shoes of and he took you to the kitchen. He asked about your food preferences, but you were not a picky person, so you let him cook whatever he wanted to. He was making the food with great professionalism while you were sitting on the kitchen counter sipping on your wine while you both maintained a pleasant conversation. The time seemed to be flying by and you probably never felt so comfortable on a first date. He made a lot of jokes, he asked a lot about you and he was glad to talk about himself too. When the food was ready he joined you on the counter and gave you a plate of pasta which was really delicious. If an outsider looked at you at that moment they would have thought you were married for years. The whole thing was so casual and natural for both of you; you did not feel uncomfortable for a single moment. You kept talking while eating, making fun of each other and laughing together. After you finished eating you insisted on washing the dishes while he choose a movie you could watch together. As you finished the dishes you joined him in the living room and sat down beside him, keeping a small distance. It was that point when you felt a bit weirded out because you clicket so quickly, it felt like you had known him all your life. You started watching some random movie, as he got a bit closer to you and put his hands on your shoulders.

“Is this okay?” he asked looking down at you. You silently nodded and turned back to the TV with a smile on your face. After a while you started to feel tired, but you didn’t want to say anything ‘cause you didn’t want that night to end. He noticed that your blinks were getting heavier and heavier and though he wanted you to fall asleep in his arms so bad, he knew it was too soon for that.

“Hey, I’ll take you home.” He smiled and you looked at him with a sorry expression but nodded. You gathered your things and you left his apartment together. He drove you home and climbed up to your apartment with you.

“Thanks for the night, it was amazing!” you said as he smiled back at you. You embraced him in a hug as a gesture of goodbye and turned to enter your apartment, but before you could he grabbed your wrist and softly turned you around.

“I wanted to tell you something, I thought you’ll figure it out until now, but I see you have no idea who I am and I didn’t want you to find out from somewhere else. I actually play for the Tampa Bay Lightning. I hope things won’t get weird after this between us, but I wanted this off the table.” He weakly smiled at the end of his small speech. Your eyes widened a bit at the new information, but you quickly got yourself together and smiled.

“I don’t care.” You said. “I mean, I think it’s cool that you play hockey and everything, but if you’re concerned that I would look at you differently because of this, then don’t be.”

“You’re the best, Y/N!” he said hugging you again and kissing your cheek. You felt your face getting redder and redder as you said your final goodbyes, wishing him a good night. As you closed your door he was still standing in front of it smiling like an idiot. He fist-bumped the air and dancingly went down to his car. He had the best time he ever had on a date and he felt like he was on the top of the world. Both you and Brayden went to sleep happier than ever that night, knowing this was the beginning of something amazing.

[tyrus-muffins]

Loving is Easy

Word Count: 1,927

Summary: “Cyrus? Please say something.”

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6

AO3

———————————

Chapter Six: Fools 

Cyrus stood there staring at the text notification on is screen. He hasn’t talked to Reed since the party. All he really knows is Reed is the last person he wants to hear from right now. He backed up to sit on his bed for a second to think.

As soon as he put his thumb back on the screen to swipe the notification, he heard his mom call his name for the second time to come down for dinner. He squeezed his eyes shut and put his phone on the charger and set it on the nightstand before going downstairs.

Cyrus couldn’t stop thinking about the notification at the dinner table. What did Reed want? It’s been a few days since the party, why is Reed just now getting around to contacting him? Cyrus really didn’t like drama, especially when he was part of it. For some reason, it’s so much easier to solve your friends’ conflicts rather than your own.

It must have been obvious something was on Cyrus’ mind. His mother & stepdad shared a concerned look before turning their attention back to Cyrus.

“Sweetheart, are you alright? You’ve barely touched your dinner.” Leslie asked after a moment.

Cyrus sighed, “Yeah, I’m okay. I’m just not really hungry.” 

“Do you need to talk about it?” Leslie offered.

“No, mom. Actually, if it’s okay, I really need to go call somebody. May I be excused?”

“Put foil over your plate and put it in the fridge for later, okay?” She smiled softly. “If you need to talk later…” She trailed off.

He nodded, standing up and sliding his chair back under the table and doing as he was told. As soon as he finished, he rushed upstairs and took his phone off the charger. He sat on the side of his bed and took a deep breath with his eyes closed before unlocking his phone and opening his texts.

reed: cyrus, i’m so sorry about saturday night. i didn’t mean for any of that to happen. i didn’t know it was going to happen. i know you’re upset, that’s why i haven’t said anything to you for the past couple days, i figured you needed some time. i really don’t want things to end like this. ily cyrus, please call me xx

Cyrus set his phone on his bed and rubbed his temples frustratedly. So according to Reed, they weren’t broken up. Cyrus just wanted this to end. He didn’t want to talk to Reed. He has a date with TJ this weekend! As much as he didn’t want to, he knew he had to do this sooner rather than later.

Cyrus took a deep breath before tapping the the call button. With every ring, he got more anxious and more convinced to hang it up and just avoid him. But Cyrus knew that wasn’t the right thing to do. He was so caught up in his thoughts he almost didn’t hear Reed pick up, “Cyrus?”

The sudden voice almost made Cyrus jump out of his skin. “R-Reed. Hi- hey.” He said shakily.

“Listen...Cyrus, I am so sorry about everything.” His voice broke with every other word he spoke. Cyrus could tell he must have been crying. “I never wanted that to happen, I shouldn’t have smoked, I shouldn’t have said you were overreacting, I should’ve stood up for you. I am so sorry, I can’t express it enough.”

There was a silence. Cyrus just sat there with tears stinging his eyes. What is he supposed to say? He’s never broken up with anybody before! He feels so bad because Reed seems to be genuinely sorry and owning up to his mistake. But even still, Cyrus wasn’t anything like Reed’s friends. He didn’t even know what they were talking about half the time. He felt so out of place. Staying with Reed would break both of their hearts in the end and that was something Cyrus did not want.

The more Cyrus thought about it, he kind of used Reed. He likes TJ. He has this whole time. He was hoping that by dating Reed, what he once thought to be unrequited feelings would go away and he would move on. He never expected TJ would actually like him back! Sure, he hoped he would. But of course, he finds out TJ likes him back after he started dating Reed. Curse Cyrus and his oblivious gay brain!

Now he’s about to break somebody’s heart and he feels so bad. Cyrus has never broken up with somebody before. The mere thought of it gave him anxiety and filled him with guilt.  

“Cyrus? Please say something.”.

“I’m sorry, Reed. I forgive you, I really do. Thank you for apologizing. But...” He thought hard about how he was going to word what he was about to say.

He heard Reed sigh through the phone, “It’s okay, Cyrus. You don’t have to say it. I fucked up. I don’t deserve you and you deserve way better than me.”

“Reed, stop that. You’re a great guy. Sure, you made a mistake. But you’re not the only one.” Cyrus paused before continuing. If he was going to break up with Reed, he at least wanted him to know it wasn’t completely his fault. Cyrus had fault in this, too, and he wasn’t about to let Reed talk himself down and take full blame!

“I messed up too, okay? This is going to sound bad, but it’s the truth and you deserve to know. I like TJ and I have for a while now. Before me and you even started dating. I was hoping that by dating you, I’d get over TJ because I never thought he’d feel the same and I didn’t want to ruin the friendship we have by telling him how I feel. So, my decision to end things between us is not all your fault. It’s mine, too. Believe it or not, Reed, you’re the one that deserves a lot better than me.”

There was a long pause. “Hello? Crap, did I lose connection?” Cyrus sighed frustratedly, moving his phone in front of his face, only to see they were still connected.

“So, you used me?” Reed asked as more of a statement.

“Well, I mean-, n-” Cyrus stuttered. It sounded terrible, but it was the truth. “When you say it like that…” he trailed off. “But, yeah. I guess I did. And I am so sorry.”

He heard Reed sigh through the line, “It’s okay. Don’t worry about it. Like you said, we both messed up.”

“So...you and TJ, huh?” Reed laughed.

Cyrus knit his eyebrows, “Y-yeah? What about it?”

“Are you gonna tell him you like him?” Reed asked, genuinely curious.

“Oh. Well, about that.” Cyrus scratched the back of his neck. “I kind of already did. Apparently the feeling is mutual!” He chuckled.

Reed paused for a moment, “So wait...you told TJ how you felt before even breaking up with me?”

“To be fair, before I left the party I told you we were done. I think that counts as breaking up.”

“Okay, yeah, good point. I guess I was just in denial or whatever. But, not to worry. Message received.”

Cyrus was honestly surprised Reed was taking this so well. “Thank you for being so great, Reed.”

“Of course, Cy. I want you to be happy.”

“Thanks, Reed. I want you to be happy, too.”

 ———————————

 “So, everybody excited for Saturday??” Andi squeaked cheerfully.

Everyone at the lunch table nodded, making noises of excitement.

“I am so ready.” Buffy exclaimed.

“Me, too!” Marty added. “I love the cotton candy, funnel cakes and the rides. Not to mention the overpriced games! I can’t wait to win Buffy a prize.”

Buffy scoffed, “Oh, please! I don’t need a guy to win me a prize. I can win myself one!” She gasped, “In fact, I’ll do one better! I’ll win you a prize!”

“Okay, Miss Independent Woman, let’s make a deal. How about we’ll play as many games as possible and whoever wins the least amount of prizes for the other has buy them fair food of their choice to make up for the lack of prizes! Even though we’ll probably end up sharing the food.” Marty retorted.

“Bold of you to assume I would share my food.” Buffy laughed, “But sure, you’re on, 11.5!” Marty rolled his eyes playfully and went back to eating his food.

Cyrus laughed at his friends across the table. He loved their dynamic. Their banter was so cute to watch. Jonah started talking about some frisbee meeting so Cyrus turned his attention to TJ, who was sat next to him. “So, you excited for the fair?”

“Hell, yeah!” TJ grinned. “I still can’t believe I’m actually getting to go on a date with my favorite person in the entire world.”

Cyrus blushed and he nudged TJ, “Stop!” He drawled, smiling.

“It’s the truth!” TJ chuckled.

“Well, that’s good! Because you’re my favorite person in the entire world, too.”

TJ blushed and nudged Cyrus’ knee with his own. After about a minute of silence between the two, Cyrus hesitated before speaking, “I, uh...I spoke with Reed.”

TJ furrowed his brows confused, “What do you mean?”

“Well, he texted me last night. Saying we needed to talk and he wanted to apologize. I almost didn’t call him, but I’m really glad I did. We’re officially over and he took it a lot better than I expected.”

TJ looked back at the table, nodding slowly. “Well, I’m glad he took it well. I’m actually pretty surprised.”

“Me too.” He laughed. He looked at TJ with a soft smile, “He said he wanted me to be happy and I’m happy when I’m with you.” He interlocked their fingers under the lunch table.

TJ’s smile grew, if that was even possible. Cyrus found it endearing. He could say anything and TJ looked at him like he said the funniest or most interesting thing in the world. They just sat there for a few seconds staring at each other until Buffy ruined the moment.

“Sorry to break up you two practically making out,” Cyrus and TJ snapped their necks in the direction of the owner of the voice, both looking a little flustered and grinning like crazy. “But did I hear you right? You broke up with Reed? Like...officially?”

Cyrus cleared his throat, “I’m not sure how looking at each other classifies as making out, but go off!” Cyrus defended playfully, “Anyway, yeah. Last night. We both apologized, I broke things off, and that’s that!”

Buffy grinned, “Aww, Andi! Look at our boy! He’s a heartbreaker, now!”

“I’m so proud! They grow up so fast!” Andi laughed, wiping a fake tear from her cheek before scrunching her face in confusion, “Wait, you both apologized? Why did you apologize?”

He sighed, digging his face in his palms, “I’d really rather not talk about it. I feel guilty as it is. How about you, me and Buffy get baby taters after school and I’ll tell you then?” Cyrus suggested.

He really didn’t want to talk about this right now. Especially not in the cafeteria, where Reed could overhear. He didn’t want Reed to think he was talking bad or gossiping about him to his friends behind his back or something.

Buffy nodded, “I could go for some baby taters later.”

Andi agreed, “Okay! Me too.”

The bell for the next period rang and they all stood up, “See you guys later!” Cyrus exclaimed.

———————————

End Notes: sorry this chapter is pretty short and took so long to posT DKLFSKL the holigays be like that. anyway, happy new year!! it's 20biteen!!

not really a spoiler but next chapter is the fair!! i'm so excited kdfjlkf

[eerythingisshaka]

Some Weeks Are Better Than Others Pt. 1

(So That’s All You, Huh?)

Part 2 *Part 3*

M’Baku x Reader

Word Count : 3.6K

Warnings: Rudeness, couple of curse words, snippets of smut

Plot:  You and M’Baku have to be apart for a business trip you are taking.  Leaving him sucks for you both, but career is important and he supports.  But the trip is a lot more than a test of your value to your job, but to your relationship as well.

Beep Beep Beep.

Your alarm has a jarring sound that jerks you from your sweet slumber.  Blurry eyed, you reach forward push your home button to silence it.  Arm hanging over the side of the bed, you lay with your eyes closed just for a moment but you know that is too much temptation that could cost you getting to work on time. The oil diffuser purrs in the background as it pumps lemongrass and peppermint in the air, your favorite combo.    You feel his arm come around, hand resting on your belly to pull you back against him.  M’Baku growls lazily playing sleep.

“Mm-mm.  You need to turn me loose, now.  I have laid long enough.”  You say, only half convincingly.

M’Baku smacks his lips exaggeratedly, “You haven’t taken a sick day from that place all year, you can call it today if you wanted.”

Holding his hand on your tummy, you argue, “First of all, I am still trying to make a good impression.   Second of all, I have to catch a flight today.  Did you forget this was my business trip week?”

He groans out loud, “Are you joking?  When did you tell me about this?”

You turn, laying on your back, counting on your fingers, “I told you when I was first offered the opportunity a month ago, I told you every week before now, and last night.”

M’Baku props himself up on his arm looking down at you, “That’s not fair, I don’t remember any talk last night, are you sure?”

You sigh, “Yes, I am.  Between the netflix, the wine, I told you.  Then you started getting sad, quoting Titanic and kissing my neck, and after that if you forgot, well then I am insulted.”

He gives you that awesome chortle of his, “No, my darling, I remember that quite well.  I was just hoping I’d wake up and the week would be over already.  I don’t know what I’d do with myself.”  His eyes twinkle a little as he says this, you feel his sadness heavily as you hold his face.

“I feel the same way and then some.  But this will help get me a good track record within the company, leading up to a promotion, raise, all of that.  I don’t want to be under someone’s thumb forever.  Once I can lead my own way without oversight, I’ll be so good.  It starts with this.”

He takes your hand and kisses the palm of it, groaning against it his bass tickles you, “I always admired your work ethic.  Your strength is my motivation to go on, along with your beauty.”  He looks down your body, snaking his hand from your knee, up your thigh, then gently caressing your tummy, “What time do you leave?”

You take a deep breath, controlling the pulse of your center.  Turning towards him, you  pick the sleep out of his eyes.  “My flight is at 11am.  I have about 5 hours to get ready, double check my packing, and make my way…”  your voice says huskily as it trails off as your eyes travel with your hands over his sturdy shoulders, sheen with his natural oils.

M’Baku tucks his lips, mounting over you on cue with surprisingly acrobatic fashion, “I can work with that, my doll.  If your schedule permits?”

You snatch your bonnet off, heat getting too overwhelming, “Mm, you ain’t said nothing but a word, M’Bop.”

You always get yourself in a position of not having packed enough in advanced.  Everyday , you tried to set aside a couple outfits, narrow down your shoe choices, put your travel toiletries in the bag and STILL you forget things, and change your mind on others.  You sniff the air, smells like breakfast is about done and just in time as you were as well.  You put your tote over your shoulder, roll your bag out and drag it down the steps, one clunk at a time.  You hear thudding footsteps coming towards you, as he rounds the corner up the stairs.

“(Y/N), why are you putting more stress on yourself?  Why didn’t you call your man, huh?”  M’Baku kisses your cheek as he picks up the bag like it’s a disobedient child, over his shoulder and effortlessly downstairs.  

You smile to yourself, thanking him.  “I won’t be able to call on you to help me once I’m there, so I might as well get used to it.”

M’Baku at the stove, he plates the veggie omelettes, “You will not get used to that.  This is a temporary business thing, so don’t get comfortable with this single independence.  You still have a man at home waiting for you, understand?”  He coos, setting the plates down on the table spread of toast, butter and jam, fresh fruit, orange juice for him, apple for you.  He pulls the seat out for you,  pecking your neck gently as you sit before making his way to his side to sit.  A mix of excitement and sadness overcomes you as you think about how compassionate your partner is.  This isn’t the first meal he has cooked for you by far, but he had time to clock your box AND cook before your trip?  He is too good, beyond words.

You pick up your fork, taking a couple bites, “Mm, I know I won’t get this good of food on the road.  What you gonna do while I’m gone?”

He takes a deep breath as he chews as big as his jaw is able without actually opening his mouth.  “I might have some of the guys over sometime.  Redecorate maybe.  Bring back my bear rug for old times sake.”

You clink your fork down, folding your hands in front of your face, “I told you to toss that thing out, M’Baku.  And the other Jabari better not be up in here to mess up my couch, touch my food, and you are cleaning the guest bathroom when all is said and done.  Go over their house with all that!”  You say with an annoyed wave of your hand.

“My, my, my love.  Has travel plans got you on edge?”  He reaches his hand over, you lay yours in it;  warm and rough, but gentle in pressure as he rubs the back of yours.  “My people know how to respect my home.  You saw them in their own habitat, of course they are foolish then.  But don’t worry about our abode, it will remain in tact.  Unlike my heart, that is aching at the thought of you leaving.  No amount of company could fill that void, I just hoped it would serve as an adequate distraction.”

Your face falls with his in that moment.  Getting up, you walk over to him and sit onto his tempurpedic thighs.  Caressing his beard, you study his face.  His big brown eyes that pull you in like Narcissus,  he looks at you heavy lidded.  “I have half a mind to keep accepting these trips if it gives me this much favor from my man.”  you say in jest.  

He squeezes your sides, causing you to fold over in ticklish agony, “You know what happens when you provoke a Jabari, huh?  I won’t hold back, and I’ll be forced to put down my staff to remind you what you need to come back home for.”

Between giggles you say, “Your staff, huh?  Is that what we’re calling it now, M’Bop?  It’s just as much mine as it is yours now, I won’t be intimidated.”  He gives a belly laugh as he rests against your bosom, holding your bottom and thighs while you clutch his head under your chin. 

“Your heartbeat is my favorite lullaby.”  He moans into your chest.

 M’Baku is a towering man in height and stature, but he is a kitten when it comes to you.

You get a notification bell on your phone, indicating your ride is waiting.  M’Baku lets out a whine that sounds like chewbacca.  

“It's time baby, let me up,” You give him a pat on his back as he slowly unravels from around you. You head out the door as he carries your bag, loading it into the backseat.

“You seem heavily packed for a few days by the way.” He looks at your curiously, tucking his hands in his pockets.

“I need options M’Bop. Plus that's just plenty more laundry for you to do for me when I'm back. I know you looove it.” you say teasingly, getting in his face.

“You think you have me domesticated, that's adorable.  Let me find out you're spreading these lies in the streets, you won't handle my fury.” He warns, wagging a finger at you.

You playfully whack it away, reaching around his neck. He grabs around your waist, holding you tightly against him.  You looked from his bright, round eyes to his smooth, beckoning lips.  Controlled by an invisible force, you both lean towards each other until your mouths are intertwined.  Soon as M’baku begins to open his mouth against yours, his hands gravitate toward your ass, slowly squeezing…

HONK HONK

The driver has gotten impatient with waiting or sick of the PDA. You don't blame them either way. You still have to snap M’Baku out of it as he continues to lean with his lips puckered, like a Looney tunes cartoon. Opening the door for you, you step inside as he leans on the door over you.  

“Call when you've landed and settled.  Work hard though; don't let me be a distraction.”

“I will, love. Leaving me with that kiss, all I'll be thinking about is you.”

M’Baku smiles broadly, “and so it should be.  No goodbyes, just know I will see you soon.”

“See you soon. Love you, M’Bop.”

“All my love, (Y/N).”

The driver pulls off as you look back at M’Baku, waving, slowly getting tinier and out of sight.  You turn away and start to look for your headphones to listen to a podcast, anything to keep the tears from spilling out of your eyes.  It's only a week, stop acting silly, you gas yourself.

“Woooowee! So that's all you, huh?”

You look at the rearview mirror at the driver. She had to be bout 50 sum, has large gold hoops with words in the middle that you can't make out, a red trucker hat that says “America was never great”, smacking on some gum.  

You say a little shyly, “Yeah, that's all me alright.”

“Oooh,  GIRL!  I would burn the midnight oil for him in the middle of the afternoon, I tell you!  What’s his name? I’m sorry if I’m being nosy.”

She sure the hell was, “No biggie. M’Baku is his name.”

“Aw nah, girl. You got you a African?? I'm surprised he ain't wheel you out in a chair.  Honey no wonder he looking better than fresh baked manna from heaven.  You been with him a while?”

She worst than your aunties when they first met him, “Yeah a little over three years.”

“Good, hold tight to that. You know how many ladies I pick up and they man is watching them while they load up? And they had waaaay more stuff than you got there.   Gentlemen are hard to find, and in an exotic negro, THAT fine?? Biiiitch, excuse my language, i don't mean you, but biiiiitch, I wouldn't be driving right now if that was at my house.”

You laugh at her antics, co-signing with the usual sister-to-sister phrases.  It was a good distraction to draw you out of your funk for the week ahead -- at least for now.

Finally, you arrive to the airport, checking your bag, and popping a seat that was miraculous to find in the crowded waiting area.  Headphones in to drown out the tired toddlers that are weighing down their parent’s patience, you look through your social feeds.  A notification pops up, it’s him.  

You open up the message, it’s a picture of the kitchen and underneath it says, ‘I don’t appreciate the amount of dishes you left me to clean up after you :P’  

You cover your face, laughing to yourself.  This guy, you think.  Texting back, you tell him, ‘Thank you, love.  It was delicious.  I promise I’ll make it up to you later ;) ’

Then you get the call that it is time to board.  Your phone goes off again and it says, ‘Well I hope I will get a preview later…….’

You stop there, biting your lip.  You guys have never done anything long distance before, maybe a little electronic play could happen between you all.  You decide to leave him on read; sure you were busy boarding, but also, you want him to be real ready to hear from you again later.

The flight was only a couple hours, but it was dreadful.  The babies would not quit crying, the flight attendant skipped you for a drink order, and the person next to you could NOT stop getting up for the bathroom to save their life.  When the plane began descending, it was an answer to your prayers.

Heading to baggage claim, you check your phone, more out of habit than anything, nothing new, but a change in the song playing in your earbuds. You wanted to wait until you were in your hotel room before you texted him that you made it.  Standing by the conveyor belt, you watch all the bags loop around; more added, some taken, until the bags become more scarce and the crowd around you is almost dispersed completely.  

Suddenly you feel a sense of dread, you walk, not seeing any more bags being added through the drop-down.  This can’t be it, you think.  You were standing there the whole time, how could you miss it?

There are some bags in the middle of the floor, but none of them are yours.  You look around for the customer service area, when all of a sudden, you see it.  Some woman has it, walking away with her family that has one of them screaming babies.  Your heartbeat is hella elevated, but you try to keep a cool script in your head as you jog over to her.  

“Ma’am…..Ma’am!” you yell.

The woman has her phone to her ear, yelling at her child to stop running and stay with her until her father comes.  You tap her on her shoulder, making the woman spin with a speed you almost missed if you blinked.

“The hell you want?!” She says with all due disrespect.

“Sorry, but my b-”

“Nah, mom I ain’t talking to you.  This little girl tryna say somthin to me.”

Little girl? You think to yourself, but letting it slide as to not waste time, you continue, “You have my b-”

“Mama, I know, but she don’t look like a sex pimp or nothin.  I wouldn’t get caught up in that I ain’t dumb, ‘specially with my baby with me.”  She looks down and around her, “KAYLA!”

Then you feel the sensation of little hands on the backs of your knees.  You look behind to see her child giggling at her mom trying to hide.  

You step over to reveal her.  “Are you trying to take my baby?!  Mama, imma call you back, this girl finna get it.”  

As she hangs up you take the open opportunity, “Sis, I don’t want your daughter!  That bag you have is mine!”

“I’m giving you 2 seconds to step away from my girl.  Kayla get over here NOW!”  The girl runs back in her mother’s direction, not necessarily to her.

You look up taking a deep breath, but the amount of calm left in you is draining fast, “She came over to me!  I didn’t even mess with her!  But ma’am, the bag!  That’s not yours!”

She takes a step toward you, leaning with her hands in prayer position, “And now you tryna steal MY shit!  You got fucking nerve, thinking you cute up here, walking up on me and my child, the fuck--”

Suddenly a male voice enters the mix.  “What’s going on here, Shay?”

You assume this is her man lookin like a Tyler Perry extra but unfortunately his wack braids aren’t a wig.  But at this point you don’t give a fuck cuz she still has your damn bag.

“Man, she got my bag, but she keeps getting stuck on other shit that we ain’t even able to rectify this!”

“Don’t talk to him like you brazy, bitch!”  She shrieks.

This sent you over.  Clapping, “WHO YOU CALLIN CRAZY, you need to control your light skinned ass attitude and your bad ass baby and run me my bag back!”

“Ok, but I got my man here with me if you wanna try it.  Where the fuck yours, ugly ass--”

“Aye aye AYE!  Aight now!  Airport fights ain’t what’s hot in here.  Shay, come on, we don’t need another strike.  You almost made the no-fly.  And that ain’t your damn bag.”

She looked down at it like she snapped out a trance.  She looked at you with anger then at him, “Then where the hell my damn bag, Carl!  You got the damn things!”

“There it is Mommy!”  Kayla smarter than her own damn mother.

Shay looks up at you as she walks past, barely missing brushing you, which is all you would’ve needed to steal on her, but Jesus makes a way.

Kayla has ran back to Carl, who picks her up, “Sorry…” he starts to say before Shay bellows, “COME GET THIS BAG CARL!”

He purses his mouth to trot over to Shay.  A wave of relief covers you as the stress from the scene dissipates.  You grab the handle of your bag and make way to the exit, hailing your cab, and praying this isn’t an omen for the entirety of your trip.  

Pulling up to the hotel, you unload, thankful for a non-communicative cabbie this time.  Making your way up the steps to the hotel, you are greeted.

“Welcome!  Are you checking in today?”  The perky blonde behind the counter quipped.  

“I have a room for the leader’s conference this week, my name is (Y/N).”

She looks at the computer screen, tapping away at the keys.  “Hmm, I don’t see it…”

You look at her blankly.  No way you have come all this way, with the day you had, and not have a room.

She continues to tap, asking you to spell your name.  As you do, she finds it, “Ah!  Thanks, sorry about that.  Ethnic names always give me a rough time.”  She laughs way too hard at that, and you don’t offer her anything in response.

“Do you have my key?” You say deadpan.

The blonde, oblivious to your discontent, hands it to you. “Yes, sweetie, here you go!  And enjoy your stay!”  She says it with a neck roll on the last set of words that gave you complete racial indigestion.  You roll your eyes and walk on up, thinking about how far you have made it, and how bad you just want a bath.

Getting in your room, you lay the bag down and swan dive onto the bed.  Your  body pulsates with pain in your back, feet and head: the unholy trinity.  In the peace and tranquility of your room, you were ready to fall asleep there, but you felt disgusting so you drug yourself off the bed to the bathroom to start the shower up.  

Disrobing, you step into the shower, feeling the cool water cover your body.  Summer has not been a kind season so far with the humidity wreaking havoc on you and your hair follicles, so the streams hitting your body made for a great escape from the world.  It sent a shiver down you, making you arch with pleasure into the sensation.  Each droplet massages the aches in your back, making your scalp tingle involuntarily.  Turning around you angle the head, letting the streams beat against your lower region, almost bidet style.

A tongue runs down your back, as if your soaked copper skin were melted chocolate, stopping right before the crack of your ass.  Two broad hands find either side of your hips, thumbs massaging the small of your back.  He spreads your cheeks apart, smacking one side.  The wetness of your backside from the shower gives a stereo effect in the shower, causing the sound to reverberate.  You gasp, biting down on your lips to keep peaceful.  A growling voice commands your attention.  “Now, you better hold still, or you won’t get clean properly…” he demands of you, his loyal subject.  Ok, you say barely above a whisper.  “What was that?  Speak up, girl! Closed lips can never be fed...”  He said in a villainous tone, teasing you with possibility. I said that’s fi--, you start but nothing but unintelligible gurgles come from you as his tongue find your sweet spot.  Even his nose tickles you as he buries face beautiful face deep between your crevice,  gripping your sides to keep you from arching away like a frightened cat.  Fuck!  I’m going to cum all over you if you don’t stop, shit!  He stands up at the warning,  “Well doll, that’s the plan, right?  But just so you know, we aren’t done, until I say,”  he growls as he massages your breasts from behind, rubbing his length against your folds causes a jolt through your body with every brush against your clitoris.  You are a bundle of electric passion on the verge of combustion, but not one to turn down a challenge.  Well bring your fat ass on then… you say through gritted teeth.  He guffaws right before inching in...

You hands gripped the walls as the thought fell into your mind.  You hadn’t texted M’Baku yet and it was a little later than you anticipated getting back.  That fat ass would make for a great comfort to you but a FaceTime will have to do.  You step out, toweling down and wrapping a robe around you.  You sit on the bed, grabbing your phone up, and going to his name.  It rings, and rings, which is odd because you thought he would be nipping at the bit to get in touch with you by now.  You get a text then, ‘Hang on.  I’ll call you right back’

Part 2

Since I do fanfics about as often as a humpback whale procreates, sorry if you’re wondering who the hell this is tagging, but you guys asked for it!  And hopefully those I missed will find this  

Tags: @sweetpeachjones  @hairhattedghooligan  @scrumptiouslytenaciouscrusade @groovybbyyy

Other Works:

King Kil’mawalls

N’Jadaka’s Helpful Hands

T’akia

Commencement Day

[nightsspentthinking]

Until Then - C. B.

A/N: Yeah, hi, I’m here but I’m not alive cause the EP killed me :))) Okay, I was so happy when I got this request ‘cause I never get requests for Corbyn like why are y’all sleeping on him? I really love the concept of this with women being independent and not caring about gender roles and I hope I did it justice (although I doubt it). I couldn’t stop myself from sneaking in a little pun, I hope you figure out what I mean ;) Requested: by @noodleswdw

It was the last day before the guys were leaving for tour. You wanted to do something special for Corbyn, after all you wouldn’t see him for at least 4 weeks. 4 weeks…how am I gonna survive? The guys had actually asked you to come on tour with them but you had to decline since you had school and college applications to worry about. Corbyn wasn’t too happy about the fact but he knew how important your education was to you and he would never want to get in the way of that.

You had been planning this date for a while now, the reason for that being that you had made a reservation in one of the nicest restaurants in the city. Only telling your boyfriend to dress fancy, you left him to figure things out on his own. Normally, the two of you preferred to go on adventurous or casual dates rather than romantic dinners but tonight was different.

Living in the same house as Corbyn made it difficult to get ready without him coming in every two seconds, trying to catch a glimpse of your outfit. After an hour which was spent on hair, make-up and your outfit but mostly jamming out to every song in your playlist you walked out of the bedroom and down the stairs where you heard all the boys talking. Stepping into the room you felt eyes on you and looked up to see everyone staring at you. Jonah wolf-whistled which earned him a slap from your boyfriend and some chuckles from the rest of the boys. They all hummed in agreement, telling you how good you looked and asking you if that dress wasn’t a bit too short. You just rolled your eyes at them and they took it as their cue to leave, making Corbyn finally come over to were you were standing.

Stopping a metre in front of you he looked you up and down, not even trying to be subtle about it. You were currently wearing a rosé silk dress with black heels, your make-up kept natural and your hair curled to perfection. You knew you looked good and from the look on Corbyn’s face you guessed he thought so too. You took the opportunity to check him out too. He was wearing some black skinny jeans, a white button-up with the sleeves rolled up, black boots and his hair messy, just the way you liked it. You smiled at each other, Corbyn pulling you in for a kiss and resting his forehead against yours afterwards “You look breath-taking” you looked down, trying to hide the blush on your cheeks. You couldn’t believe the effect his words had on you, even after all these months. “You clean up pretty nicely too” He just kept staring at you, smiling.

You two spent the next fifteen minutes having a little photoshoot while waiting for your uber to arrive. You took a lot of pictures doing weird facial expressions while wearing – you guessed it – his famous glasses but also some nice ones since you knew how obsessed your boyfriend was when it came to his Instagram feed. That boy would go to crazy extents just to get the perfect shot.

As soon as the uber pulled up you made your way inside, you typing in the address for the driver, not wanting to ruin the surprise for your boyfriend. 20 minutes and a small jam out session later the car came to a stop, signalling that you had arrived at your destination. You got out, Corbyn right behind you and you turned to him. Shock was written all over his face when he saw were you had brought him. He turned to you with wide eyes “How long have you been planning this? Oh my god, do you know how hard it is to get a table at this place, babe? Well, of course you know cause you somehow managed to do so.” You just laughed at his rant and took his hand in yours, leading him to the front door. “I might have asked a friend of mine to put me on the list. That saved me about four months of waiting.” Corbyn let out a chuckle, admiring your independence.

After telling the waiter your name, you were showed to your table where you quickly decided on your orders. The night went by in a blur, the two of you talking, laughing and enjoying the amazing food. It felt good to spend some time together, just the two of you. You even took a break from social media, limiting your snapchat updates to a cute post of each other and a meme-worthy snap of the two of you which earned you lots of screenshots from the fans. As the dinner slowly came to an end you grew anxious, thinking about the one thing you still had in store for your boyfriend.

Corbyn must have noticed your mood changing, taking your hand in his and looking at you with a worried expression. It’s now or never. Giving him a small smile you whispered, “Here goes nothing” and reached into your purse, pulling out a little box and practically shoving it into Corbyn’s hand. He eyed it for a second before looking at you again “(Y/N), you know I’m all for women being independent and confident, making the first move and all but don’t you think it’s a little too early for proposing to me?  I mean, I’m only eighteen and you’re still in school…” You burst out laughing, chocking out a “I’m not proposing, you headass, just open the box” He winked at you and opened the box, his grin fading, replaced by a surprised expression. He took out the little item, twisting and turning it in his hands. Getting nervous again, you looked down, playing with your fingers “It’s a promise ring. I wanted you to have a piece of me with you when you’re away. So you never forget that I’m waiting for you to come back to me” Corbyn quickly slipped on the ring and you lifted your hand, showing off the one you had bought to match his. Upon seeing that, he flashed you one of his beautiful smiles and leaned over to plant a kiss on your lips.

The guys were leaving early in the morning. You had stayed over, wanting to spend the last hours with all of them. While Corbyn was in the bathroom you quickly went into his room and slipped the envelope you were holding into his backpack. Next came the goodbyes. You hugged all the guys, telling them how much you’d miss them and how proud you were. The tears were already flowing by the time you made your way to Corbyn. He pulled you into a hug and you nuzzled your head into his chest, enjoying the comfort it brought you. You stayed like that for a few more minutes and after exchanging I love yous he gave you a kiss and finally got into the car. You waved at them, watching as the car turned around the corner and disappeared. You took out your phone and sent Corbyn a quick text: Might wanna check your backpack for a little something ;)

Corbyn’s phone buzzed in his pocket and he took it out, furrowing his brows when he realized it was from (Y/N). After reading through it, he searched through his bag, eager to see what his girlfriend was talking about. Taking out the envelope he immediately recognized her handwriting.

Hey Corbs,

I know this is super cliché and I’m normally not one for big, romantic gestures but you make me want to do all these things that are so out of my comfort zone. I wrote you this letter so you always have something to read when you miss me. You’re going to be busy and talking will be hard, especially because of the time difference. Corbyn, I’m beyond proud of you and the guys and I couldn’t be happier for you. You get to live your dream and I’m right by your side through it all. Remember I’ll always wait for you. I know that just like a boomerang, you’ll come back to me ;))

One day, I’ll be lucky enough to put a ring on you but until then these will have to do. I love you forever and always.

(Y/N)

Your phone went off like crazy, dozens of notifications pouring in. You opened Instagram and saw that Corbyn had tagged you in a post. You clicked on his recent upload and couldn’t contain your smile. The picture showed his hand – the one with the promise ring -  holding your letter. But the caption made your heart melt. Just like a boomerang, I’ll come back to you.

[asmolbirb]

i like you answer all the ice cream asks please and thank you

bless you anon

also omg omg omg thank you for liking me!! ilu~!

under a cut, it’s gonna get long

to people who just got a notif that u were tagged in this post…. one of the questions was “favorite blogs?” and i mentioned you in that category. no need to read this whole mess trying to figure out why you were tagged ^_^

french vanilla: how old are you? 

18

cotton candy: three places you want to travel to?

korea, japan, england

i know this is vague af lol but my travel dreams are also vague af at this point

strawberry: a language you wish you could speak?

korean

coffee: favorite cosmetic brands?

i’m not really a big fan of cosmetics?

does nail polish count? because if so, sinful colors

mint chocolate chip: indoors or outdoors?

outdoors

cookie dough: do you play any instruments?

yeah i play piano

rocky road: favorite songs at the moment?

bts - spring day

bts - not today

seventeen - highlight

bigbang - fxxk it

butter pecan: favorite songs for life?

bts - intro: never mind

bts - let me know

bts - tomorrow

exo - promise

exo - peter pan

cheesecake: what’s your zodiac sign?

aries

toasted coconut: the beach or the pool?

pool

sand is the worst

chocolate chip: what’s your most popular post?

i think it’s still that stupid lotr post? it peaked at about 140k 

bubblegum: books or movies?

books

pistachio: manga or anime?

anime

salted caramel: favorite movies?

a single man

arrival

tangled

birthday cake: favorite books?

the host

battle royale

the princess bride

the giver

moose tracks: favorites for manga?

death note

bleach

liar game

orange sherbet: favorites for anime?

death note

bleach

sword art online

peanut butter: favorite academic subject?

fiction writing 

followed, surprisingly, by organic chemistry

black raspberry: do you have any pets?

no

mango: when and why did you start your blog?

like 5 years ago

my original blog (not this one) was gonna be a place where i logged my thoughts (like a diary) somewhere my parents wouldn’t see

then a friend asked to follow me and i didn’t want her seeing my online diary so i made the blog that i have now

mocha: ideal weather conditions?

like mid 60s 

light breeze

sun but with clouds

no pollen in the breeze

black cherry: four words that describe you?

UMM??

ambitious

artistic

determined

independent

neapolitan: things that stress you out?

change and uncertainty

time crunches

unexpected high stakes events

the possibility of rejection

raspberry truffle: favorite kind of music?

i’m a big fan of lyrical rap

i also really really love songs with heavy thumping bass lines. like, the type you blast in your car with the bass turned high so you can feel it thrumming through your body.

chocolate marshmallow: favorite brands of candy?

ghirardelli

hershey

lindt

ferrero rocher

toffee: a card game that you’re good at?

ers/egyptian rat screw/slapjack/sandwich

whatever you call it

lemon custard: do you eat breakfast?

….no

dark chocolate: turn ons?

LITERALLY SO MANY

guys in button ups/tight shirts with the sleeves rolled up to their elbows

firm hugs (from guys)

rubbing/scratching my back

some nsfw stuff

fudge: turn offs?

man buns

neckbeards

a lot of kinds of facial hair, tbh

facial hair is hard to do well

hypermasculinity

peach: how do you relax?

headphones: in

phone: silenced

dick: out

praline: a popular book you haven’t read yet?

eleanor and park by rainbow rowell

superman: do you like sweaters?

eh ://

cherry: do you drink tea or coffee?

coffee sometimes

dulce de leche: an instrument you wish you could play?

guitar

blackberry: have you ever laughed so hard you cried?

all the time, i’m glad to say

ginger: a new feature you wish tumblr could have?

telling you when someone changes their url, and what someone’s old urls used to be (or at least their most recent url)

blueberry lemon: favorite blogs?

D: i wanted to say @elementary-mydearlaufeyson but they seem to have either deactivated or changed urls and idk what their new url is because?? we never talked even though we were mutuals but i admired them a lot and….anyway i’m sad now but they were really great

@inkskinned​

@academla​

@fiftyshadesofselfdestruction​

a few bts and seventeen blogs that are??? really great???????

almond: favorite mean girls quote?

uM

get in loser we’re going shopping

butterscotch: what color are your nails right now?

currently no color buT they were pink until this morning

cinnamon: have you ever been confessed to?

yes

blue moon: have you ever had a crush on someone?

lol

LOL

L O L

L O L

cappuccino crunch: do you take naps?

LMAO all the fucking time

depression naps are my favorite pastime

mint: the most embarrassing thing you’ve ever done?

in high school, i wanted to be friends with a really cool kid, didn’t know how to talk to him, eventually told him i was going to ? stalk him on facebook??? to find out more about him?????? yIKES @ HIGH SCHOOL ME WHO EVEN WERE YOU

he thought i was fucking insane

and i don’t blame him tbh

i’m sorry friend 

brownie batter: do you like sushi?

hell yeah

key lime: where do you want to be right now?

in my bf’s arms

but i don’t have a bf

so

red velvet: do you wear prescription glasses?

yes

(fuck contacts)

green tea: favorite flavors of ice cream?

rocky road