#but like realized in a HOLY SHIT I AM IN MY LATE TWENTIES AND I HAVE A MULLET

[buggy-mars]

I just woke up from the brain fog and realized I have a fucking mullet

[sarcasm-and-stiles]

Hi I saw that you were wanting requests, I’ve been having this idea in my mind since I’ve read something similar in a Spencer fic, but instead of working for Penelope she works for Hotch as an intern. So the concept is the reader would be a new intern for something but she hangs around with Penelope a lot so she starts answering phone calls from Hotch in a similar way that Pen does for Derek and the first time it happens the reader gets all flustered but as time goes on the reader gets more confident. Possibly leading into Hotch asking the reader out? Just a bunch of fluff. (Please let me know if this idea is not good or can’t be used)

A/N: Oh my god thank you so much for this request anon! This was the first thing I’ve written in a while and it was a lot of fun. I took some liberties with the prompt but I tried to stay loyal to the request. This is my first Aaron fic so I hope you guys like it :)

Word count: 1.7K (holy shit I’ve never written anything this long)

Aaron Hotchner x intern!reader

age gap

Hotch is in his 40s and reader is in mid to late 20s

Working for the FBI was itself a demanding job, but being Unit Chief Aaron Hotchner’s intern? That was a whole other story. Obtaining a Masters in psychology was great and all but the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit was always my end goal, so getting to intern was a dream come true and I was determined not to blow it. Unfortunately, while working at the BAU I discovered another dream of mine, Aaron Hotchner. As I was nearing the end of my twenties and more concerned with academics and my career, it meant that there wasn’t much room for a love life, but a girl can dream can’t she?

I’m broken out of my reverie as I enter the bullpen.

“Morgan, have you seen Hotch yet this morning? I have those case files he was looking for.” I asked as I sidled up next to his desk.

“Sorry pretty girl I haven’t—never mind.” I look at Morgan with confusion written on my face.

“Sorry, I was running late.”

I tighten up a little before turning to address Hotch.

“Morning boss! No need to worry. I think that you’re allowed to be late every once in a while.” I say with a small smile. ‘Late to work’ isn’t in Aaron “punctuality” Hotchner’s vocabulary, so for him to show up late meant that something must have sent his morning off kilter.

Hotch started towards his office and I followed him, determined to finish the task set before me. He opens the door and holds it for me. I follow him through letting it close behind me to give us some privacy.

“Is everything alright with you this morning Aaron? You seem a little off.”

Hotch struggled to meet my eyes before replying, “What? Oh. Yes I’m fine. Jack woke up with a fever, so I had to wait on Jess to stay with him before I could leave the house.”

“Aw poor Jack,” I say as I place the files on an unoccupied area of Hotch’s desk.

“Thank you Y/N. Could you go and get Garcia, it’s time to start briefing the team.” I nod and exit his office closing the door shut behind me.

I walk to Penelope’s lair and let myself in. Since I’m only an intern, and have no field training, I am confined to the office. This means that I spend most of the time that Hotch is on a case with Penelope. This also means that Penelope is aware of my tiny monumental crush on our boss

“Ah good morning my dove! What brings you to me this beautiful morning?” Penelope’s sunshine demeanor is contagious bringing a smile to my face.

“Hello! Unfortunately I am here on business not pleasure, Aaron wants to start the briefing.”

“We must be on our way then. We can’t leave Aaron waiting, can we?” Penelope said while wiggling her eyebrows at me.

I blush realizing that she caught my mistake. “Hotch. Hotch wants to start the briefing.” I sigh knowing that my attempt to cover up my mistake was in vain. I quicken my pace to catch up with Garcia as she enters the conference room. When we walk in most everyone is already in their seats chatting comfortably. I look around and notice that the only available chair is the one next to Hotch and I steel my face as to not clue him in on my recent and obvious casualty surrounding my feelings for him. When I sit down he sends me a soft smile before calling everyone’s attention to the newest case that would be taking them to Nashville.

——

The team had landed safely in Tennessee, and by the next day I was out of things to do so I decided that the best way to spend my time was doing whatever I could to help the team by aiding Penelope.

I knock on the door before letting myself in announcing my entrance, “Good morning beautiful! How can I be of assistance to technical genius Penelope Garcia today?”

Garcia turned to look at me quickly before facing her computer once again. “Hello my lovely! Grab a seat and I’m sure I can find something for you.” As I’m settling myself in at the desk I hear the phone ring.

“Can you answer that for me love?” I nod and pick up the phone.

“Hey babygirl, how’s miss smart and sexy today?”

“Sorry to disappoint you Morgan, but I don’t think I’m the girl you’re looking for.”

“You’re never a disappointment y/l/n, although Garcia’s expertise may be more helpful in this situation.”

“Roger that. Passing you along.”

As I heard Penelope and Derek’s flirty phone banter, I couldn’t help but think about what it would be like to do the same thing with Hotch.

———

I had been combing through files for helpful information for the past couple of hours. My eyes were sore and my heart was heavy, nothing seemed to be of much use. I leaned back from the files and let out a sigh.

“Is everything alright my precious flower?”

I crack a small smile before responding, “Yeah yeah everything’s fine, just a lot on my mind.”

“Anything you want to talk about love?” I let out another small sigh.

“I was just thinking about my love life, or lack thereof.”

“You’re a catch hot stuff! You just need to put yourself out there. Anybody would be lucky to call themselves yours.”

“Just put myself out there. Easier said than done.”

I spent the next few hours thinking about what Penelope said while continuing my work.

Put myself out there, I can do that. What’s the worst that could happen? Flirting with your boss never has serious consequences. No. Yes. I can’t keep hiding my feelings, sooner or later someone is going to realize. It’s not like I’m subtle.

After forming my plan, all I could do was wait for the right time. Luckily I didn’t have to wait long.

Ring Ring Ring

I check the caller I.D. to see Hotch’s name flash up at me, and I flip open my phone. “Speak and I will obey.”

There was a pregnant pause making me second guess jumping straight into the deep end.

“Y/N, I need you to get an old file for me. It’s in the filing cabinet in my office. Once you have that I need to to send it to me ASAP.”

“Yes sir. Your wish is my command.”

I can hear him hesitate before answering, “…Thank you.”

——

The next time I’m in contact with Aaron is when the team returns from the case the next day. Everyone is cleaning up their workspaces getting ready to head home. I’m chatting with Reid about a new book that he had read when I hear Aaron’s voice call for me.

“Y/N, could I see you in my office.”

My mouth opens and closes slightly before I nod and walk up the few steps to his office. I step inside on uneasy feet. I couldn’t help but shake the nervousness around me.

“Shut the door and have a seat.” I do as I’m told. I begin twiddling my thumbs and it seems like hours before he talks again although it has only been a few moments. “I wanted to talk to you about yesterday.��

“Oh my god I’m so sorry. You’re gonna fire me aren’t you? I wouldn’t blame you. Oh my god-“

“Y/L/N.”

“I’m so stupid.”

“Y/N stop talking.” I look up quickly and shut up. “I’m not firing you. I’m just - I’m just a little confused. Yesterday seemed a little out of character for you.”

I let out a shuddered sigh, “I was- I was putting myself out there.”

“Putting yourself out there?”

I look him in the eyes before saying, “I guess I’m going all in. I know you’re my boss and I know it’s inappropriate for me to even be saying this but…I like you Aaron—romantically. You don’t have to respond…I know I’m putting you in an awkward position but I just couldn’t keep it to myself anymore.” After finishing my speech I have to shift my eyes to my lap, his analyzing stare too much for me to take.

“You’re right, it is inappropriate.”

I nod my head too ashamed to look him in the eyes as my own welled with tears. I stand up to let myself out of his office.

“I’ll uh…I’ll be…goodnight sir.” He lets me walk out the door without protest. By now the team has gone home which kept me from more embarrassment. I gather my belongings and rush towards the elevator. When I finally make it to the elevator and the doors begin to close I let my tears quietly fall. But a hand pushes itself between the closing doors, forcing them open. I rush to wipe my tears and look up. When I do I’m face to face with the man who had caused my tears. As quickly as he had gotten into the elevator he pressed the button closing the doors and leaving us alone together.

“Y/N.”

I refused to turn and look at him.

“Y/N, please.”

“What? What more do you have to say. I get it. I’ll get over it I just need some time.”

“I-I have feelings for you too.”

I look up at him, “What?”

“I have feelings for you too, and when you told me I didn’t know what to do. I-Ive never been in a situation like this before.”

“You do?”

“You’re very intelligent. Always trying to help others and you give your all no matter the task. And although it is not the main reason I find you so intriguing, you are beautiful. I know that we will have to learn to navigate this situation, but if it’s something you would want, I would like to take you out to dinner.”

It takes me a moment to respond, but when I do it’s with a wide smile on my face “I would like that very much Hotch.”

“Please, not Hotch. I love hearing you say my name.”

“I would like that very much Aaron.”

He takes a small step closer and reaches out to my face, wiping away a few stray tears before he cups my face.

“Can I kiss you?”

I look into Aaron’s eyes before saying, “Yes.”

[bilbosmom-belladonna]

Wiggly Worm Wednesday 🧠🪱

Thank you for the tag, @endlessmusings1801! I am SO behind on tag games but this one comes with a deadline so I'm gonna roll with it.

Fall is coming to the northern hemisphere, and with it the inevitable arrival of All Things Halloween, which has got me thinking: if there was any kind of professional haunted house/forest/hayride/corn maze/whatever in Hawkins, Indiana, YOU KNOW Eddie Munson was working there every October.

I mean, it combines his three favorite things: theatrical performances, spooky shit, and terrifying normal people! You cannot tell me Eddie wasn't working late every night, jump-scaring assholes from high school or cackling maniacally at the suburban moms that sneer at him in the grocery store.

There's a LOT of fun ways this could go in my mind, both in the 80s and in a modern AU. I am stirring it around in my head like a big gooey cauldron of possibility.

With that in mind, here's a quick little modern AU meet-ugly, based off of a real interaction I saw at a haunted forest many years ago.

Steve scoffed, but didn't let go of his hand. "No, he didn't. You were the one who screamed!" They could see the lights of the parking lot up ahead of them, the wide mulched path leading them out of the trees and away from the haunted forest.

🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃

"Okay but the mad scientist totally scared the shit out of you," Tommy said, laughing meanly.

"It was a manly scream," Tommy insisted, pouting. "Like, to let him know I meant business."

Steve laughed and rolled his eyes. He hadn't thought much of Tommy's choice for their first date, but he had had more fun than he thought. He had promised himself there would only be one date—Tommy had whined at him long enough to get that—but maybe he could be convinced to try another one. It hadn't been that bad, especially because they had spent most of it screaming and not actually talking. Not even in Steve's top five worst dates.

...maybe the top twenty though.

Tommy started describing the horrors of the werewolf den in detail, as if Steve hadn't been there too, when suddenly from behind them there came the rumbling sound of a chainsaw.

Steve looked over his shoulder and saw a man in a hockey mask barreling down on them, running full-speed with a chainsaw held in front of him, revving it menacingly. On instinct he started running, pelting along the path toward the parking lot.

Tommy was right beside him running until Steve tripped and went down, his ankle twisting painfully under him. Tommy instantly dropped his hand and kept running.

"Tommy!" Steve cried, but Tommy was already too far ahead, racing full-speed for the safety of the cars.

Steve grimaced and tried to stand, pushing up onto his knees but faltering when he tried to put weight on his ankle. Behind him, he heard the chainsaw revving. He turned to see the man in the hockey mask stalking toward him.

It was an actor, of course—Steve felt stupid for not realizing it, a last-minute scare when they thought they were finally safe. He looked back down and tried to get up again, but fell back with a cry when his ankle couldn't take it.

"Holy shit, dude," came a muffled voice. Steve looked up to see the man in the hockey mask—the actor, he supposed—standing above him, hand outstretched.

"You okay?" the man asked.

Steve made a face and grabbed his hand to pull himself up, managing to stand awkwardly on one foot and lean on the man's arm.

"Think I twisted it," he gritted out.

"Shit," Hockey Mask said. He clipped his chainsaw—his fake chainsaw—to his belt and pulled the mask up, revealing messy curls and big brown eyes. "You, uh, you want me to find your date?"

"Fuck him," Steve said immediately. "I'll call a rideshare."

Tommy had just landed himself in the number one spot of Steve's "worst dates" list.

"Yeah, what an asshole," Hockey Mask agreed. He wrapped an arm around Steve's shoulders. "Come on, I'll walk you over to where they pick up."

"Thanks," Steve said gratefully, leaning into his warm side and trying not to wince as he hobbled.

"I'm Eddie," Hockey Mask said with a smile as he walked slowly along. "Sorry about your ankle."

Steve huffed a laugh. "I'm Steve," he replied, "sorry for making you, uh, break character or whatever."

Eddie smiled, his bright eyes reflecting the flickering torches that lined the path. "Nah, don't worry about it. I got plenty of good scares in tonight. Though your boyfriend might take the cake."

"Not my boyfriend," Steve said emphatically. "And he's not even getting a second date."

They reached the edge of the parking lot, where a couple of benches were set up for people waiting for rides. Steve gratefully collapsed onto one. He gingerly tried putting some weight on his ankle and found it a little more stable. Eddie hovered awkwardly over him.

"Thanks," Steve said with a grateful smile. "I'll be okay here, don't want you to get in trouble for slacking off," he added reluctantly. Eddie, he thought, had a really nice smile.

"Look, um," Eddie stammered. "I—uh, I get off in about twenty minutes anyway. If you want I could, um. I could drive you home? Make sure you get there safe?" He twisted his hands in front of him, looking awkward and hopeful despite the fake blood spattered all over his shirt.

Cute, Steve thought.

"Hmmm, I dunno," Steve said slowly. "Wouldn't want to let an actual serial killer drive me home to my apartment." He smirked up at Eddie.

"The mask and the chainsaw are company property," Eddie said quickly. He spread his hands wide. "It would just be little ol' me."

"Okay, well, as long as you're not gonna murder me, I guess it's okay," Steve grinned. "I'll just wait here then."

Eddie's eyes went wide, then he grinned so far his cheeks stretched all the way out. "Okay!" he agreed. He dropped his hockey mask back over his face and picked up his chainsaw, revving it again. "Back to the grind," he growled from behind the mask. Then he was stalking back across the parking lot, terrorizing a group of girls who were huddled by the apple cider stand.

Steve shook his head and carefully lifted his leg up onto the bench. Maybe this first date was salvageable after all.

👑🎸🎃

I will tag @itcanbepalped @soaringornithopter @mojowitchcraft

Looking forward to whatever you've got cooking!

[syrikif]

Gamer Etiquette

Kodzuken x Streamer!Y/N

Pairing: Kenma Kozume x Fem!Reader

Genre: SMAU, Written Elements, Strangers to Lovers, Romance, Fluff, Humor, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Streamer/Youtuber AU

Upcoming content creator/streamer, Y/N, has gone viral for lots of things. Her infamous dumb moments, her blended cookie recipe (which tastes better than it sounds), the way she rages at her friends during games, and about a hundred more.

But her most recent viral moment? Accidentally knocking famous streamer, Kodzuken, off the Bedwars map and making him lose his two year winning streak.

Now with more attention (and hate) than she ever asked for, her only option left is to go to the source: the man himself, Kenma Kozume.

Previous | Masterlist | Next

Chapter 2 (a): Bedwars

Word Count: 2171

“Hey guys,” you smile at your webcam, “How’s everyone’s night been so far?” You adjust to get just a bit more comfortable, wrapping your favorite blanket around your legs as you observe their responses in chat. 

“Oh my god you had sushi for dinner? That sounds so good.” You lean forward to get a closer look, “Awe thank you. I tried so hard to do my makeup today,” you inform everyone when you see a compliment fly past. “It took me like four business days to finish my eyeliner,” you roll your eyes at the memory. 

You start humming softly as you read through chat, prompting everyone to start spamming for music and making you smile. “Okay okay, I get it guys I’ll put some music on.” 

You pull open Spotify, selecting one of your favorite non-copyrighted playlists, “Is that loud enough? Oh- too loud?” You turn it down by about twenty percent, “Is that better?”

You grin, letting yourself relax against the back of your chair. “I don’t really have a plan for the stream; I just wanted to kind of chat for a little bit, explain why I was in the hospital and stuff.” 

YOU WERE IN THE HOSPITAL????

You laugh when you see the message, realizing too late that you’d probably just dropped a bomb on everyone who doesn’t follow you on any of your other social media. “Oh yeah, sorry guys.” You suddenly snort, “Did someone just say I was in hospice for being dumb?” 

You shake your head subconsciously, “Even funnier though is that they’re kind of right.” 

You reach forward to grab the bottle of water resting on your desk, “Don’t worry it’s not anything serious. Like at all.” You pause to take a brief sip of the iced liquid, cringing at how cold it is when it enters your mouth. “Holy shit,” you shudder, “That was so fucking cold.” 

You take a deep breath to regain your composure.

“Anyways, so basically I fell and hit my head yesterday and my friends just wanted to take me to the hospital to make sure I didn’t get a concussion or anything. And then it turned out that I was actually - like - super dehydrated so they wanted to give me an IV drip to get some fluids in me.” You lift your water bottle pointedly, “Hence the new addition to the stream.” 

Normally you’d rarely ever have water during a stream, and if you did it was kept in a much smaller bottle. It’s different now though (your roommate made sure of that) since your current water bottle is big enough to cover your entire face if you were to hold it up. 

“But now I am a-okay and in perfect condition. Well, mostly anyways.” 

You spend some time just singing along to the music and responding to some of the messages you see in chat. You feel yourself relaxing as you talk with everyone, your tense shoulders loosening and your voice growing just a bit louder as you get more comfortable. 

You’re always nervous to stream at first, despite having done it hundreds of times by now. You don’t think you’ll ever not be nervous to be completely honest. It was such a surreal experience, to be able to be so closely connected with so many different people from so many different places, that you were terrified of ever losing it. 

“Oh my god you guys. So I made some pumpkin muffins with chocolate chips in them the other day and they are literally like the best thing I’ve probably ever baked in my life.” 

Better than your blended cookies?

You roll your eyes, “Oh ha ha; you guys act like you’ve tried it. I promise you all that it’s literally ten times better than it sounds. I’ll have to post the recipe at some point because I genuinely think a lot of you would love them.” 

I can attest to that ✋

“Sho,” you excitedly exclaim as you see your friend’s username. “You guys know Shoyo right?” You feel your head tilt, watching the varying responses flood your chat box. “Well if you don’t know who he is, he’s literally - like - famous for playing volleyball.” 

I love Hinata! I met him once and he was so nice.

You nod rapidly in agreement, “Yes! He’s seriously gotta be the nicest person I’ve ever met.” 

“Do you want to get on call with me?” You direct the question towards your close friend, subconsciously biting your lip as you await his answer. 

Still at practice unfortunately 🙁

You pout, “Oh no.” With a small sigh, “I just don’t know what to do now. You got any suggestions, chat?”

You read as many messages as you can, eyebrows furrowing further the longer you sit there. 

“I’m seeing a lot of minecraft; do we wanna play a bit of minecraft?” You hum in thought, swaying in your chair as you consider the idea. “How about Bedwars?”

Chat practically erupts at your words, capitalized letters and emotes flying by so fast that you don’t get any chance to read a single one. “Okay okay,” you laugh, “I get it.” 

You set your water bottle back down, adjusting your keyboard to sit properly before grabbing your mouse. “Let’s play some Bedwars I guess.” 

~~~

“Fuck you!” 

You groan as you release your mouse, throwing your head back in annoyance as you die yet once again. 

“How the fuck do I keep on dying? Literally what the fuck!” You chance a glance at your chat, hiding a smile at their reaction to your raging. You’ll admit it, while you are actually frustrated with the game, you’re definitely playing it up just a little bit for your audience. 

You don’t wait for the round to end after you die, leaving the game and immediately running to join another one. You’ve been playing in teams of three, hoping that having the extra assistance would help you stay alive longer. 

So far it’s proved to be completely futile. 

“We’re definitely gonna win this one you guys,” you say just as the round begins. “Me-,” you pause to look at your teammate’s usernames, “PinkyFluff_22 and Kodzuken are going to absolutely demolish everyone else.” 

What did she just sayyyyyyy 😳

I’m sorry you and WHO????

No way she’s playing with who I think she’s playing with

One in a million chance lol

Wtf

“What is everyone freaking out about?” You question as you patiently wait to collect some iron and gold, watching one of your teammates begin to cover the bed with a measly defense of red wool. “Kodzuken?”

You buy some wood and Endstone from the villager before purchasing a slightly better sword than the wooden one you were given. “Oh they stream?”

Girl 💀

How do you not know who he is?????

“Bro I don’t know,” you shrug, “I just work here okay.” 

You sprint over to the bed, breaking the wool to replace it with the Endstone, layering the wood on top, and then finally placing the wool around it again. “I guess I’ll be bed defense then,” you say as you notice that you’re the only person left on the island. 

“Oh shit someone’s coming!” You duck behind the giant cube of wool, watching the name tag get progressively closer to your island. You jump out as soon as you feel like they’re close enough, attacking the unaware oncomer and knocking them off the island within a few easy hits. 

“Fuck yeah!” You jump around excitedly, proud of the way your plan was actually successful this time. “See that? I told you I’m not bad!” 

You abruptly flinch as your character turns and comes face to face with another player. “Holy shit!” You release a sigh of relief as you realize it’s only your teammate, Kodzuken. “That scared me so bad. Oh my god,” you release your mouse briefly to place your hand on your chest. 

While you’re distracted trying to calm your heartbeat, Kodzuken suddenly stops before you. “What is he doing?” But before you even have time to be suspicious he suddenly drops a pile of diamonds and emeralds on the ground. 

You blink.

“Huh?” He looks pointedly at the gems then back up at you and back down, lightly tapping the block they’re floating on. “Is he giving them to me?” 

You glance over at your chat, your character finally going into motion when you realize they’re all screaming at you to go pick them up. “Jesus, sorry. I got them, see? Look, I’m picking them up right now.” 

You collect everything on the ground, crouching and un-crouching multiple times as a way to thank him. “Oh- shit,” you pause as a popup suddenly appears, “Stupid sticky keys!” 

By the time you manage to exit out of the window, Kodzuken is nowhere to be found. “Well,” you look at your webcam, “That was unexpected.” 

You quickly open game chat to send him a private message as fast as you possibly can. 

“Thanks :)”

It’s the best you can do with the little time you have but you hope he appreciates it nonetheless. 

“Okay, I’m gonna up our bed defense.” You repeat the earlier process all over again, only this time you add obsidian and make the outer layer made of wood. “Now that’s like literally impenetrable.” 

You upgrade your sword to a bow and arrows before purchasing some TNT and fireballs and buying the Miner’s Fatigue trap. “Now the real question is whether I try to attack the bases next to us or not.” 

Attackkkkkk

You’re gonna die

Kill them

We believe in you

“I guess it’s decided then,” you quickly shake out your hands. “Okay,” your voice fades as you run across the bridge you could only assume one of your teammate’s made. 

You’re extremely quiet as you make your way across, keeping your eyes on the island next to you and turning back every now and then to check on your own. You’re biting your lip as you slowly make your way across the rival team’s bridge, crouching the entire time to hide your name. 

You’re roughly twenty blocks away when you take the next step. Still crouching, you aim a fireball at their seemingly wool covered bed. “Yes!” You cheer as it makes its mark, blowing up the wool and revealing wood below it. 

You know that you’ve alerted the players at this point (there’s no way you haven’t) so all you can do is run into the fire. 

You’re panicking as you place some TNT around the bed, running away and into a player from the enemy team as it explodes. You use your mediocre sword to hit them away from you, mentally sighing as they get hit back enough for you to run away. “Oh my god oh my god oh my god,” you sprint towards the now revealed blue bed. 

“Blue Bed was destroyed by Soft_Paws!”

You squeal out of both fear and excitement, adrenaline racing through you as you’re attacked by two of the blue players at once. You throw a fireball at them, shouting for joy when one of them is successfully knocked off the island. 

“Holy shit!”

The next player is harder to kill, your health rapidly deteriorating as you battle with nothing but a stone sword and your adrenaline. 

You have one heart left when it finally happens.

“Ecstasy.png was killed by Soft_Paws”

“Yes!” You kick your feet out, jumping up from your chair with your excitement before remembering that you’re still in a game. “Holy fuck I did it. I actually did it, you guys!” 

She’s CRACKED

LETS GOOOO

WOOOOO

YEEEEESSSSSS

~~~

Roughly five minutes later, you’re still in the round. Everyone’s bed has been broken at this point but there are still three teams that are yet to be eliminated, yours included. 

You’re sort of just hiding at the base, watching the chaos from afar as your one and only teammate left (Kodzuken) goes on a murder spree. 

He’s running back to the team’s island when the incident occurs.

All you see is yellow leather armor and a yellow name tag, sprinting on the bridge connecting your base to the emerald island. You don’t even consider the fact that they’re currently being chased down by your teammate, you just aim. 

Your aim is exceptionally good, so good in fact that the explosion knocks off both the yellow player and Kodzuken. 

You freeze at the realization, your mouth falling open in complete horror as you piece together what you’d just done.

“I did not just do that,” you whisper, mostly to yourself as the events replay in your mind. “Oh my god,” you facepalm - forgetting (once again) that you’re still actually alive and participating in the game - and completely missing the person running towards you on the other bridge. 

You hear the sound of something being attacked, echoing through your headphones and making your eyebrows furrow with confusion. 

You abruptly gasp, but by then it’s too late. 

You’re dead. And your team has lost.

Taglist: @crazy-people-are-here, @existential-traveller, @peachesncats, @royalz658

Any names in bold are unable to be tagged.

[i-luv-carl-grimes]

A light that never goes out

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ 𖤓 ☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

-

Au: alright so some ppl actually likes this so far so here pt.2 and as promised I'll go more in detail with this part as well as go deeper into the story line ENJOY!!

-

Word spread with wild fire that someone was being "required" on task force 141 which was wrong but was also right. I spent my night at the shooting range when I should've been gathering my things, then I saw someone walk in. A strong looking man, maybe in his late twenties. He had a... Interesting hair style, one of which was a mohawk. He also had the British flag on his vest... Odd... A brit all the way in Texas? That's odd. Enough with the questions (Y/n) you came here to clear your mind. So do it.

I looked back down at my bandaged hand and noticed that the blister wounds had reopened and were now bleeding through the thin gauze. I ignored it and continued shooting. Not realizing the man had approach me.

"Hey there Girly" ....girly...? "Uh.., ya-?" can't people just LEAVE ME ALONE! "How long have you been at it?" he question... He didn't look like a higher up so I don't gotta be polite do I? "I'm busy, go bother someone else" I said and looked back at the targets then continued shooting. "Man aren't you snappy, and a dam good shot at that" why is he here and why is he talking to me? "I'm lookin' for a girl... Price said her name was (Y/n)-" "Rain, it's Rain to you" I snapped and he put up his hands. "My bad kid, I'm Soap" he let out a hand, I didn't wanna be completely rude so I let out mine... Forgetting about my now blood soaked bandages. "Bloody hell- what have you been up to? You shouldn't over to do" yeah okay dad. "What do you want" I said not enjoying how this interaction was holding up. "I'm pickin' you up" he said and I turned. "Excuse me?" he grinned and looked down at me. "You heard me Rookie now get your bags were leaving" he said once more wirhout giving me a real answer. I just decided to go along with it and I walked into the sleeping quarters, "Soap" was following behind he causing everyone else to whisper and stair. Why did HE have to come along? I walked into my section and the other girls lifted there head up and looked at me and Soap. "No fucking way.... They recruited you!?" a girl named Madie said. I didn't respond just grabbed my things and put them in a duffle bag. "Let's get going Private" wait... Private...HE WAS A HIGHER RANK!? god dammit. That still doesn't clear up who he is.

I was lead out of the camp and over to a large truck, standing next to it was Captain Price. "Rain, glad you could make it" he said and placed a hand on my shoulder. "This is soap, he's a field commander, you'll be working with him and the others for the next few weeks" he continued... The others? Holy shit... I really am gonna be working with the best. "Yes sir," he paused for a moment. "And (Y/n). I know your capable of this... Don't make me question your skill" he patted my shoulder then stepped aside inviting me to go into the truck. I climbed in and immediately force...

Sitting around me were two other extremely well built men. One specificly was wearing a skull mask, he looked to be the biggest in the group... And a little intimating... "Everyone, this is Rain. She'll be joining us on our next mission," Soap said. "Don't be dick heads, introduce yourselfs" he snapped and a man got up and walked over to me then let out his hand. "Gaz" he said... He seemed rather quiet I went to shake his hand then cringed when I felt the pressure against my wounds. "Ghost don't be a-" "she's gonna get killed" the man in the skull mask said and everyone went silent. "Price said shes better then anyone else in her group. She's one helleva shot too, saw it myself" Soap said, he was quick to my defense I appreciated that. "Yeah but he's a rookie, she doesn't have any real experience" this ghost guy was seriously pissing me off. "Give 'er a chance Ghost" he just rolled his black out eyes and I took a seat next to Gaz and soap as the truck started moving. It was quiet... And awkward till Soap started talking.

"How long have ya' been training?" Soap asked and I shrugged. "A few months, maybe 3 or 4" Soap and Gaz were nice and chill.... I cant say the same for the fuck head other there though (ghost)

"What's the mission about?" I looked over at Soap. "Hold your horses kid, it's your first day calm it would ya?" he replied and Gaz snorted. "And here let me see your hand" he took out some new gauze. "I got it" I said trying to take it from him but he pulled back. I then swiped it away from him quicker. "I said I got it" I looked at him through the corner of my eye. "Yes Ma'am" he let out a chuckle. I took off the old bloody bandages off. "How'd ya do that?" Gaz asked and I shrugged. "One two many round I guess, it doesn't hurt though" I threw the bloody ones away and put on the new ones. Gaz and Soap went back to talking while Ghost just sat there not moving a inch... What a weirdo. Wait... These are the solders on task force 141? Hell this WAS task force 141...mohawk guy, a dude in a mask and Gaz.... Interesting....

It was gonna be a while till we reached the UK so I grabbed a book I brought from home and opened it to turn part I last left off on.

-

Au: enemies to lovers??? (My fave trope)

-

[becauseplot]

ok so i couldn't watch ordem paranormal quarentena live yesterday but im rotating it in my head at supersonic speeds. here have the reactions and notes i was taking while watching the VODs. i figured i'd just make it all one post since i'm super late to the party and i didn't rly feel like "lag"-blogging. (i am. so tired rn lmao)

Quackity will find a way to play the “asshole” character in every universe.

Luis: “My name is Luis Miguel….Kennedy :))” Cellbit, breaking character, pinching the bridge of his nose: “…Did you put ‘Kennedy’ in your name and you didn’t tell me?” (Honestly one of my favorite parts of the whole session HIS FACE)

Lucie IMMEDIATELY starting beef with the ten year old (good for her)

Wait did that doctor try to do a Schrödinger's cat demonstration with the cardboard box and poisoned tuna??? Aw that would've been so cool. I mean not for the cat but for me, personally. I would've found it cool. Man :(

Jeffery pulling a second box of pizza out of the aether to put over the smoke grenade. Loony toons ass motherfuckers.

Jeffery panic throwing the keys at Luis (Honestly same dude)

WALLACE!!

Holy FUCK the reveal of the blood covered corridor?? THE WAY CELLBIT INTRODUCED THE MONSTER?? Genuinely had me tensing up hooooo it was so good!! (Cellbit: “You can’t explain why…but you don’t want to look at what’s coming around the corner.” Me, with a hand over the screen: “Oh bestie you have no idea 😀”)

THE CHASE SEQUENCE RASHASHSHSRAAHAHHH <-me shaking it around in my mouth like a chew toy

Also all the sounds Cellbit makes? The acting of showing how the infecteds' bodies move?? He's so into it AUGHH he's such a good storyteller I'm going nuts.

Luis: “OMA CULERO BOOOOM!” *fucking decks the monster* (THIS PART HAD ME ROLLING OH MY GOD ROIER)

Baghera’s playstyle!! She always tries to go for the non obvious answer or a third option instead of whatever Cellbit throws at them. (Checking the metal pannel with the wires, trying to put out the boiler fire, going to check Luis’ wounds.) I bet it has something to do with the fact that she’s played rpg before, and MAN I love it.

Cellbit: “You reach behind you and you realize you don’t have your backpack.” Diego: “No, no, mi vida!!… Ohhh we’re all gonna die 0(-(“

Cellbit: “So Jeffery what’re you doing?” Jeffery: “Houghhhggh I’m throwin up, man.”

Benito isn’t an actual doctor?? The fuck lmao???

Benito: *cuts off Michael’s arm* “Ohhhhh you fucking dumbass I’m gonna keep this as a memory.” BENITO???????

Jeffery constantly throwing things at the wall when he’s upset fhdjkdkd 

Lucie climbing the FUCKING walls. YEAHH!! GET ON TOP OF THAT COMPUTER GO GO GO!!

Ohhhhhhh the killing the animal who's suffering question. Luis with the gun. And the suffering doctor.. And he said he'd end the animal's suffering. Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhh

Update: Benito also has beef with the same ten year old

They are playing hot potato with an infected fetus. They threw it at the little girl. Loony toons ass motherfuckers. (Again.)

These dumbasses are SO awful with kids lmao

Lucie the MVP LETSGO she's so smart I love her (a fucking twenty NINE dude holy SHIT she is carrying she is the moment she has the only functioning braincell in this entire facility)

RAHFDHGGAGHSARHGAH CHASE SEQUENCE PART TWO!!!

Character development ! Benito is willing to throw his phone :D (he doesn't though)

Luis I love you but I think you killed Lucie. A for effort though.

NEVERMIND Diego is the best he's helping Lucie I love him smmm

JEFFERY NOOOO YOU CANT DIE NOOOOOOOO

YEAHHHHH DIEGO LETSGOOOO

MICHAEL????????? MICHAEL WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU SAYING RIGHT NOW?????????????

WHAT THE FUCK THEYRE GOIGN RTO BRAZILTHEYRHGOIENG TO BRASIXIZNGL WHATHHTHAHHHHTAWHAT

Wait what the fuck happened to Amy is she just like. Still sitting there. In the energy room. Crying. Oh my god they're so bad with kids.

[mairen-marionette]

✨🌼🌺❤️ for the oc asks?

Neo thank you so much for the ask I appreciate it so much! I like talking about my ideas honestly, I need to do it more.

✨- How did you come up with the OC’s name?

Okay so for Mirena, she is a character I have had some variations of for years now in my head for my own original work, (very long story that needs its own post or two), but the name itself is one I came up with some time ago and turned out to actually be a name in Latin, and I've kept it for this iteration of the character. Her nickname is Mira.

As for Miah, that is actually a nickname I came up with and figured out an actual name not long after. His full first name is Jeremiah, btw.

Miah and Mira, the Nälkän and the low-level reality bender both unwillingly employed by the Foundation and essentially playing one of the most stressful irl games of Among Us possible. And then more of their colleagues figure it out-

🌼 - How old are they? (Or approximate age range)

Still working it out along with the timeline. Both are about early to mid-twenties, a bit young for researchers but then again so are other colleagues at this point. A lot of odd and desperate circumstances and very hard work have gone into getting to where they are today, as well as a lot of luck.

🌺- Do they have any love interest(s)?

Neo I am so glad you asked! This is actually one thing I have developed a lot, I just need to write it out more.

Mirena has a girlfriend, Shannon, a shining Mobile Task Force newbie who ends up turning traitor to join the Chaos Insurgency- and despite everything, the love is still there. Shannon wants Mira to join her, Mira both cannot leave and absolutely will not join the Chaos Insurgency. Shannon is forced to flee, and Mira's left to deal with the aftermath. How fun.

And then they just keep encountering each other after that, and it is a whole thing that I have a lot of fun with and need to actually write out.

As for Miah, things are messier and to start with, here is the very abridged version of the man we call Miah's wretched traitor ex: Miah's a research assistant to a doctor and while working under this very shady man he ends up meeting a very nice site security guard who also happens to be relatively new to the whole working for the Foundation thing and they hit it off!

It's sweet, things are lovely, Miah trusts this guy and loves him so very much and tells him oh so many things- and then shit finally hits the fan all at once and in the chaos, boyfriend's true allegiances are revealed as he is in actuality a mole and Miah is unfortunately in the way and loose ends must be tied up, with overkill since he knows Miah is a fleshcrafter and those types are infamously hard to kill. Needless to say, Miah survived, with begrudging thanks to his now late boss who was all too happy to at last put his illicit research into action before he 'terminated his employment' on his own terms.

Needless to say, Miah is still very, very mad at his ex for that stunt and while he is fine with never seeing the wretch again, he would be all too happy to finally confront him and

It's not the only romantic relationship I have in mind for him, mind you, but it is a fairly major one that has had its impact.

❤️ - What is one of your OC’s best memories?

Okay, that is hard to say but I have thought about this before, actually. At least for Miah.

For Miah, one of the memories he holds closest is from not long after he came of age, when he was more formally initiated into the faith he had converted to all those years ago. It is one of the proudest moments of his life, and he remembers it well- the makeshift ceremony in the forest on the night of one of the High Holy Days, the pride in his teacher's eyes and voice, and the pride swelling in his own chest, the happiness.

As for Mira, it takes the form of when she finally realized that she was in fact very much love with the bright, wild, lively woman sprawled next to her on the grass, staring wide-eyed at Shannon as she laughed and laughed. And then Shannon finally looks at her, grinning that signature wild grin of hers, and the researcher feels as if she is drowning, as she's had so many times.

Anyhow, thank you for the ask Neo, sorry it took so long for me to finish answering it! Hope you like it, friend. Sorry if it's too long.

[casspurrjoybell-26]

Too Old For This - Chapter 11 - Part 2

*Warning Adult Content*  

"We'll grab stuff you like but that's still in line with your diet."    

Zachary nibbled his bottom lip.

He would probably have more food than he needed this month if Leroy also helped him do shopping but it wasn't like food couldn't be frozen and carried over to the next month...    

"I'm supposed to do groceries too, so I might as well accompany you," Leroy added, making Zachary scratch the back of his neck as he thought about it.      

"How do we get there?" Zachary mumbled, realizing a flaw in the arrangement.

He could take public transport but doing so in a wheelchair was also a hassle and he just didn't want to.

All the staring and confusion at a relatively young, able-bodied-looking person using the handicapped sitting spaces was not something he was willing to go through for fresh Bok choy and root vegetables.  

"I'll drive us."      

"You drive?" Maybe Leroy had mentioned that before somewhere but Zachary couldn't remember for the life of him.

He'd never seen Leroy do anything but walk.  

"Yes. I do have my license," Leroy said, laughing a bit.

"Surprise, I know. I'm not the best driver,but I won't kill us. I've just not seen the point of driving around when I could walk or take the bus. Cars are also expensive and I don't see myself affording insurance, not to talk of a car note..." Leroy rambled, folding his legs.

"I have a car I can borrow."      

"Oh, I see..." Zachary trailed, not having anything to add.

"How about next week?"      

Leroy smiled, nodding his head.

"The weekend works for me. Just let me know when."  

Zach nodded, raising his body from the bed a bit with his arms as leverage.

"Hey," he said, looking up at Leroy.

"Are you going home today?" he asked, bringing up the elephant in the room.

It was late... almost twelve in the morning now and Leroy had walked here.  

Leroy's brows knitted together as he squinted out the window.

"Holy shit," he mumbled.

"I didn't notice how dark it got."      

The younger man grabbed his cell-phone from the table against the bed before going through it and sighing.

"Fuck my life. I didn't charge my phone either, so I can't even rely on the flashlight."    

Zachary was a bit taken aback.

Flashlight or no flashlight, he wouldn't walk outside at night at this time.

"You should stay," he said, making Leroy, who was now panicking as he looked for a charging port pause.

"Huh?" 

"Stay," Zachary repeated.

"We're pretty much already sharing a bed. You can just sleep here until tomorrow morning and just walk back..." the older man trailed, unable to maintain eye contact with Leroy.

He stared down at his mattress, picking at the little seams as he waited for Leroy to respond.  

"You're okay with that?"      

Zachary shrugged.

"I am but I mean, if you snore, feel free to change my mind."    

Leroy laughed and Zachary felt the faintest of smiles grace his lips.

Leroy made him feel like he was effortlessly funny.

He'd never had that... well, anyone to talk to who wasn't constantly worrying that he would break twenty bones laughing too hard or standing up.

Leroy made him feel... normal.

Well, as normal as he could feel.  

"I'll stay," Leroy said as he laid back down on the bed.

"As long as you're okay with it," he added, turning to face Zachary.      

The older man nodded, blinking, before looking away.

"I am," he mumbled.

His heart was going to be beating through his chest like a drum all night but he didn't mind being next to Leroy at all.

He preferred that he was safe where he could see him, instead of wandering around in the dark for twenty minutes until he got home.

[sunbeamstress]

i struggled for a very long time to understand why i didn't want to make art.

it was such a mystery! some blind spot in my psyche i couldn't get a fix on.

"why haven't i drawn in months?"

"why am i sitting here playing video games? i still can barely draw hands"

"why don't i post my work online?"

"why haven't i started a webcomic yet? i wanted to over a decade ago"

why? why? why?

why was i torturing myself? all i could see in the back of my mind was my mother, seated in her armchair, the dated old phone stretching across the living room with her at the center of its web. she would always couch the phone against her cheek and shoulder and lay her knuckles against it for stability; her left hand - the one i use, myself - would reach for a pen and fill page after page of doodles into a notepad.

i remember beautiful filigree designs and landscapes and pretty flowers and sometimes an instance of something lovely in the faces of her husband or her children, captured on paper without her even having to think about it. entire worlds spilling out of her fingertips while her mind was occupied with other things.

but she stopped.

she can't draw, now. she no longer has the talent. she used to beg me to sing because my voice was a gift to god, but she had a gift from god and she left it in a dumpster. these days i don't believe in god, and i don't believe in my mother, either.

in a circumspect way i'm grateful to her for this. i'd think about her every time i picked up a pencil. this unforgivable act of waste, in my eyes, was a fire under my ass that kept my hand moving. it gives me pleasure to admit, with honesty, that while i rarely sketch or paint, i only ever seem to get better at it. to this day, i'm not half bad. in my late thirties, i'm at a skill level that i was seeing out of the very most gifted artists in their mid-twenties.

but isn't that a silly way of looking at it? "i'm 37, and i draw at least as well as a really good 24 year old". what nonsense is this? this is the sort of invasive thing that likes to run amok in my head. what sense does it make to compare myself like we're talking shonen manga power levels? why am i racing other artists? why do i have to compete?

it took me a very long time to realize that Competition Itself had supplanted what i loved about art. it wasn't something i did consciously; it just sort of happened when i was in my late teens, my early adult years, and the internet's artistic community had exploded, a detailed landscape peppered with talented people, all with their own gifts from god, gleaming and gilded and razor-edged. they were doing things i'd never imagined. they were making comics and putting their work in indie video games. they were doing animations in flash. holy shit - they were making porn! this might sound quaint to you, O reader, but by internet standards i'm what you call an "old-ass bitch" and in those days, this was pretty novel.

god, i wanted what they had so bad. i wanted a webcomic. i was going to call it "Absolute Vertigo", whatever that meant, and it would have been garbage, but i didn't care. i wanted "Absolute Vertigo by <SCREEN NAME>" at the top of a kitschy website and i wanted people to gush about how cool it was and put it into their RSS feeds and--

this was the beginning of the end, in many ways. i really wasn't cut out for competition. it would take a really long time to figure this out. my peers were putting out improbably cool stuff and i felt like i was flagging. i didn't realize it yet, but the internal language i was using to talk to myself about art was changing. suddenly i was "worse" or "better" than other artists. suddenly they were "doing more" or being more "successful" than me.

art had become a commodity.

it's wild how this sort of mindset can take a mind of its own, can build its own character, can work its way deeper into your brain. at first art was discouraging - it was this thing my mother was good at but neglected. it was this thing i felt like i was worse at than everyone else. but then it became depressing. Art, this platonic ideal of it, this idea of it in the abstract, was turning into a weapon i was using to torture myself. reader, you have no idea how many nights i couldn't sleep. to merely ideate failure was to hurl myself back through time, back to the moment i realized my mother had given up.

"why haven't i drawn in months?"

"why am i sitting here playing video games? i still can barely draw hands"

"why don't i post my work online?"

"why haven't i started a webcomic yet? i wanted to over a decade ago"

i didn't have an answer for these questions, but still they were there. they weren't important or meaningful questions, they were tools i used to torture myself. i was supposed to improve for the sake of improvement, and to enjoy art as an act of pure creation, but instead it was a hammer i would hit myself over the head with because i wasn't doing it good enough. crazy how you can talk about your own talent the way you can talk about a dead-end job.

looking back now, it's astounding that i didn't understand all of this. it seems to make so much more sense. i've always had stories and characters floating around in my head - it's literally my favorite pastime - but it took me a very long, very painful time to realize that having stories and having characters doesn't mean you're a failure if you don't immediately march to the nearest sketchbook and jot them down.

the gift of art does not obligate you to produce it. if you cast it aside, the world isn't made better or worse.

your art exists for you. it should please you, should bring a smile to your face or evoke feelings you don't dare face on your own. art should help you work through trauma. it should express when you're happy. art is a frame for the picture of you.

it should even be okay to let it go.

it's going to take me a long time to forgive my mother. but i think i understand her a little better.

[josiebelladonna]

“No one will ever love you the way that I have loved you.”

there’s a lot from fever that i still think about to this day, but that line in particular always makes me stop and think.

sam says it out loud to a sketch of alex resting on her car seat before she’s in the accident that puts her in the hospital for three months, and then she thinks it constantly until she finally gains the courage to do so.

i came up with this line after i made my very first drawing of alex in february 2021, when we were all still in quarantine, and i remember watching him on ig live right before valentine’s day. i don’t even know what came over me but he was taking questions and i kind of blurted it out: “boxers or briefs?” (i think i also asked him “coke or pepsi” but i can’t really remember). i also told him he’s cute when he rants (this was back when that big cold snap struck texas) and i remember him giggling at me when he picked up this acoustic guitar and it felt like i was down in front and his eyes were on me. i really do not have the best track record of flirting—if anything, i’ve always sucked at it—but i remember going to bed that night realizing, “holy shit, i just flirted with and teased a boy tonight, didn’t i?” i already found the vibe of the whole thing sensual as is (late at night, it’s snowing, i’m cozied up in bed in my underwear). it was from that point forward, my crush on him developed and yet, i lacked the courage to share those crushing feelings outside of fic: they were always rare with me and when i did feel them, i was always wary of talking about them because crushes, especially on a guy like him, are not taken seriously, especially when you’re young and you have youthful energy like i do—i’m as much an emotional person as i am a cerebral one, too, capable of going from very soft to full-on rage. but they are real, and they are torrid, and with him, they’ve only deepened and intensified. it’s really weird, too, because my crushes usually don’t last very long, like a year or so. but he still tickles me like that night when i asked him about underwear and soda. he gives me chills and butterflies. he makes me moist, especially when i know he’s watching me. i smile when i see his name.

one time on stories, i told him i am in love with his voice—i really am, too, it’s kinda sexy after a while, and i’m always going to think about how husky it gets whenever he talks to me on live. i’ve joked about poking or patting his belly and i can’t explain it but i just have this feeling that he loves it, like a lot (i once made a joke about blowing raspberries on his chubby belly on testament’s page and it made the page admins laugh). i’m not even touching on the comments i’ve left on his page and he’s come back to like them after the fact when no one’s looking. i feel it with him, even though he won’t say it out loud—i get it completely. the one time someone told me they had a crush on me it was well after the fact. i’m emotional and intense: people find me intimidating, and when he shared my drawing i made for him for valentine’s, he said he was humbled by it. there’s the pressure he feels, too: mr. guitarist with a stout following and when he and i started #feelingit, the whole dave ellefson thing blew up (i’m in my late twenties, mind, but the fact that happened at the same time as the white pony drawings needs to be highlighted). i also feel like i’m crossing some lines with him, too, lines i don’t really feel comfortable saying, even late at night.

“No one will ever love you the way that I have loved you” reminds me of the intensity that i feel. there’s something possessive about it, but it also isn’t when you think about it. alex has flings with other girls, namely zelda, but he always finds his way back to sam because the way she treats him is unique to her and he finds his way back to it out of comfort, and she sees it. she says it because she knows he’s always going to come back to her.

…her “porchlight is always on”, if you will…

iirc, i actually wrote it in response to the whole “not like other girls” horseshit, like it’s meant to give the finger to that—i didn’t mention this in my little nuclear bomb to the green druidess but that mindset is utterly rife in her writing, namely like loving the dead, like it’s actually surreal when you place it in junction with what she supposedly believes in. i can’t stand it because aside from it being genuinely misogynistic, it’s just canned and super on the nose, like… you know, we’re all different from each other: there’s no need to hammer it home.

when taken from an artistic standpoint, it loses its possessiveness and turns into a statement from an artist. there won’t be anyone who will draw you like i have. there won’t be anyone who will treat you so well through her art like i have. there will be good drawings, there will be great drawings… but they won’t be me. (so, there’s something meta about it, too.)

in sum, pay attention to what your body is telling you. pay attention to your heart and also your he(art). you may not realize it but your flesh carries a lot of wisdom. behold, the flesh and the power it holds.

[rhymingtree]

Me realizing I'm a month late to these updates:

Anyways I'm here now :) Let's see if I can finish a whole chapter in one sitting (I probably won't but shhh)

Also I'm going to ake it a Christmas season tradition to and react to a chapter while sitting in a public place so I can risk crying to the tune of Mariah Carey.

I almost forgot how I do this, it's been so long 😭

Also I am ashamed to admit that I cant remember what happened in ch97 and I am too lazy to go back and read it

And Raffa was coordinating with other medics on the Alliance, just in case things went south. Which, knowing your track record, would happen more likely than not.

How many medics do they have at this point

How south can they go that they need more than Raffa

I forgot what was supposed to be happening where the fuck are they

And, if you succeeded, there was a high chance that you’d still manage to lose everything you’d fought for. You’d lose him.

Let's not jump to conclusions like that while I'm sitting in a public area, I might get thrown out of here for disturbing the peace or some shit

The dog tags the fucking dog tags

oh speakof the god damn devil

Mariah Carey's here

fUck

He hummed a low laugh, coming to a stop before sitting beside you, “I didn’t say anything.” “You didn’t have to.” You smirked, dropping your gaze to the ground, “You have a look.” “Very funny.” 

I love them and their little moments.

I really missed Duke holy shit

I've been gone a month and I almost forgot how much these shitheads kept me sane.

But there was so much more to life than just surviving.

You didn’t have time for it. Maybe you would eventually but that wasn’t an option. Not yet.

Little bits of poetry within the prose that I just love

I know it isn't technically poetry but it feels like it. The kind that people read in books and highlight and write down in notebooks, and post on tiktok. The kind that just really hit good in audiobook form, when you hear it and it just makes you freeze.

Ok where the fuck were we

All you had to do was stay on your feet long enough to do it.

Bitch you've been on your feet since the year started. It's fucking november. At this point your feet are gonna quit your body and run away from you, sue you for labor abuse or some shit.

See now I don't remember what they're meant to be doing but I remember being really excited about it when I finished reading 97.

"New York has been briefed, he’ll catch the others up to speed."

Can I be briefed too... it's been a month you guys I'm so lost

It had been twenty-four hours since you’d reared your head in the city. Twenty-four hours since you’d made your final appearance as the villain in Ollie’s story. Twenty-four hours since Ollie found you.

This is begging for a Hamilton joke

Hehe she's the Aaron Burr to his Hamilton

Is the world wide enough for both Wraith and Ghost

ok I'll stop

What the shit is nitramene

Dude I just finished doing chemistry homework my brain can't handle stuff like this

Ok I just googled what it is. Ok. I gets it now.

“It’s just like hotwiring a car.” “Except this one explodes if you do it wrong.” “It’ll be fine.”

I love my reckless babies

— “Let’s get you outta here, girlie.” —

ooooh careful now

I'm in public. If I get bamboozled again and throw this laptop out the fucking window...

Fucking christmas songs ruining my moment

“Checking in on you,” he said simply, folding his hands in his lap with a small smile, “Before we both descend into hell.”

“Aw, we’re already there, Johnson,” you hummed, “We swan-dived in a long time ago.”

“Then where we headed?”

“Dunno.”

He chuckled, his smile tired and his voice gruff, “At least we’re in it together, right?”

You paused, looking over him for a moment before you nodded slowly, “Together.”

Damnit

DAMN FUCKIN FLASHBACKS EVERYWHERE

Ohhhh tension i likey

I also don't want Ghost to keep him alive if that's any comfort to her :>

LAST CHRISTMAS BY WHAM IS PLAYING AND I DON'T KNOW WHY BUT IT IS DRIVING ME INSANE

“Make him go quiet.”

That's my mark. I'm gonna go have a dinner break and then dive back in.

I'm stressed

Also stride for stride would be a great song title for when Ghost and Ollie's main themes merge together.

Dinner break turned into I went home and took a shower break but am back now 😀 And I dont have to get embarassed by my zoomies anymore

“Blast radius 500 feet but, in Hydra's hands, who knows how they could modify it.” And it would be glorious.

The fact that this thought is coming from the one who doesn'thave stories of blowing up chem labs in high school is jarring to me.

Maybe Ollie is just that goth kid from Toy Story that experimented with his toys and he's just really fucking sadistic.

But, if he couldn’t use them against her, then he’d use her precious Avengers. Her friends. Her…Soldier Boy.

Oh thank fuck I went home before I read this part. I'm literally vibrating in my seat.

BUCKYYYY I MISSED YOUUUU

This was the last time they were going to go after her before Walsh took control of the entire situation. This was his last chance to bring her in. His last chance to bring her home. And he was going to do it. Even if it meant that he had to put down Wraith himself. And even if it meant he had to fight off Walsh and Aftermath and Stark and the Avengers. (F/N) was coming home with him.

You forget, Bucky, that Darke has the reins

And I have no fuckin' idea what this woman's got planned for you

Is it gonna be a happy ending? Dunno. But is it gonna be entertaining? Fuck yeah.

I love it when Steve and Bucky are angry

My hormones are raging again

Cuffs? And not the fun kind!?

>:(

Oh, Peter...

If (F/N) really was the bad guy, why was she trying to protect him? Did she really just like him that much?

Is it just me or have I been watching a bunch of these guys miss the clues for a whole year?

“Mr. Stark, listen.” “No,”

As genuinely sad and frustrating this is, I laughed. I'm sorry, Pete

Is literally no one going to ask why Peter is practically limping!?

HELLO

CHILD INJURED

I get that everyone's busy but HELLOOOO

OLIVER

NO

WHAT

WHA—

NO

ay susmaryosep lord save my soul

Not to mention, you didn’t have an earpiece. For the first time in a long time, you didn’t have any voices in your ears. Or your head. It left you in silence. Alone.

Is it weird that I miss Jekyll and Hyde

their back and forths were so much fun

oooh cinematic red lights how fun

OHHHH TIME FOR THE FUN STUFF

THEY GONNA TUSSLE

Clint was well aware of what your plan was and he had no intention of getting in your way. But he couldn’t let Natasha know that. You couldn’t let Natasha know.

I just know these guys would be amazing at planning surprise birthday parties.

Romanoff was practically on top of you by the time you got your bearings.

I want her to be on top of me for real

“Cuffs? Really?” you hummed, holding her fist steadily in your hand before you reached up to snap the Widow’s Bite from her wrist, “That’s pretty kinky, Romanoff.”

If only that was what they were there for

god that would be a very different night... a really good night

I really am just so glad I'm not reacting to this in a public area anymore... my thoughts are everywhere they shouldn't be

I love Clint being a team player

“C’mon, Toucan-Sam. Where are—Fuck!” — “No, no, no. I’m not just any bird, I am the Falcon!” he exclaimed as you began helping him unstrap from his harness. — — “Whatever you say, Toucan-Sam.” —

Ah, the good old days

Oh, I'm loving the back-to-back fights, and how emotionally charged everyone is

I love how theyre all asking her to come quietly

Bucky would have her coming, but it definitely won't be quiet

But, in the chaos, he found a source of calm.

I'll call Oliver whatever I like (i.e., a piece of shit rat-faced dweeb) but the man is poetic. His inner monologues are honestly amazing.

This isn't even the best example it's just the most recent one. Whenever I stumble on one of these gems in his POVs I just go damn. My english teacher would love that.

Damn... that fight was... woah

Darke... that fight was amazing 😭

I wanna see that on-screen so fucking bad

How do you go from like the most enthralling dramatic fight scene to Peter just panicking his way through the night

(F/N) had him pinned to the floor, the two of them had stopped what they were doing the instant he’d arrived. “Am I interrupting something?”

I told myself I wouldn't let my thoughts go there with these two but PETER JUST HAD TO SAY SOMETHING

I mean if you looked at it one way or another, you could almost call their verbal back-and-forth flirtatious

Before he knew what was happening, (F/N) shifted her grip on him and the next thing he knew, Peter had been flung through a window and back out into the night.

What is it with Ollie and Ghost, and throwing people out of windows? First Bucky in Hong Kong, now Peter...

Oh no

“Run away with me.”

YOU SAID THIS WOULDN'T MAKE ME CRY

“You and me. Together. We could go anywhere. Everywhere.”

DARKE

And then a cold band of metal around your wrist kept you out of it.

This is hurt.

Ow.

No.

Don't.

Why am I pleading there are already two chapters after this

I can't with you

“Yeah.” Steve agreed but he made no move to hand her over, “But you're not with Aftermath. Are you?”

WOAH

WOAHWOAHWOAHWOAHWOAH

WOAH

WHAT

WHAT

DARKE

WHAT

WAIT

IS THIS THE RIGHT TIME TO HYPERVENTIALE AM I GETTING AHEAD OF MYSELF WHAT'S HAPPENING

WHAT

WHAT

“I’m not giving her to you because you’re not with Aftermath,” Steve said, shifting his gaze from (F/N) to Walsh, “Are you, Wraith?”

STOP IT RIGHT FUCKING NOW

oh wait you just did that was the last line

NO

WHAT

DARKE

DARKE WHAT THE FUCK

I

THE COFFE QAO A MISTAKE IT WAS A MITAKE

i need to go to bed

i cant go to bed after that what in the shit

CHAPTER 98: SCORCHED EARTH

To all my live reactors,

Please, please, please, hide your reactions under a Read More cut. I don’t want any spoilers floating around. 

&

To all my Anonymous Avengers, 

If you want to react in my asks, feel free. However, I won’t be answering any of them until at least Wednesday if they contain spoilers. 

Thank you,

Darke

┍━━━━━━━━ ★ ━━━━━━━━┑

“I think I’d rather just kill you.”

“Then?”

“Kill them.” He nodded to the door, “Pave the way for Hydra to rise again.”

“And Barnes?”

“They broke him once. They can do it again,” he said lowly, a snarl itching at the back of his throat, “Then again, he broke you once too. Maybe you will survive through the night. You’ll be right at home with the Doctor once again.”

“You know, it’s funny,” (F/N) scoffed, “He and I were talking…”

He blinked, the smile on his face dropping instantly, “What? What did you just say?”

“He came to me in Warsaw,” she said as a smile twisted to her face, “He had a job for me. Said he wants you dead.”

“Did he?” he asked through gritted teeth, “And you took it?”

“I didn’t say I did—”

“Why didn’t you kill him?”

“I—”

A manic chuckle echoed through the building as he ran his fingers through his hair in disbelief, “You couldn’t do it, could you? What was it? Curiosity? Stupidity?”

┕━━━━━━━━ ★ ━━━━━━━━┙

CHAPTER 98: SCORCHED EARTH

✪ Bᴀᴛᴛʟᴇ Sᴄᴀʀʀᴇᴅ : Aғᴛᴇʀᴍᴀᴛʜ

♜♠ Tʜᴇ Sᴏʟᴅɪᴇʀ & Tʜᴇ Sᴘʏ

⧗ Tʜᴇ Rᴇᴅ Rᴏᴏᴍ

☞ Bᴀᴛᴛʟᴇ Sᴄᴀʀʀᴇᴅ: Oʀɪɢɪɴs

»Jᴏɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴀʀᴋᴇ sɪᴅᴇ Tᴀɢʟɪsᴛ

TAGLIST BELOW

@thexbookxnerdx // @fadingbakeryfarmoperator // @rhymingtree // @itsmeatballworld // @kippykasey // @turtleedovee // @onewithnomightypowers // @pixviee // @riahmcq // @thequeenofthefallen // @jesuswasnotawhiteman // @fnnshelbys // @knowyourworth-sellyoursoul // @banbananas // @oikawasblueearbud // @itsarussian // @mrsbarnesinmyimagination // @oopsiedoopsie23 // @luhuhzy // @heyimjustlaura12 // @moonlightreader649 // @sighmurderbot // @useless-creature-213 // @xiyouchan // @bookfeen // @afraidofshrimp // @yjck121 // @born-a-sinner-die-a-martyr // @comfortzonequeen // @aftermatharchives

[localcryptideli]

Just saw a post where one of the tags was "gluten free people are worse than vegans" and I am here blinking like... what's next, "people with peanut allergy are annoying"? Like sorry for not sucking it up and then going through physical and psychological discomfort by eating wheat because I get an autoimmune response, but I'd rather have people think I am annoying (which is big for me) than go through that again.

[sunflowervolvimp3]

changes (best friend!harry)

Warnings: language, nsfw content, drugs (marijuana) and alcohol

Pairing: best friend!Harry x reader

Word Count: 17k (holy shit)

A/N: So this started as two requests I had in my inbox that I got way too into and then it became this. this may be the longest stand-alone fic I’ve ever written, and it, like watermelon sugar, is dedicated to touching!!!! I spent so long on this so as always. feedback is appreciated. and if you like it, please reblog it!!! reblogging is the best way to show fic writers your appreciation <3

{masterlist}

Unless she’s reminded otherwise, Y/N always thinks of herself as a teenager.

This, of course, isn’t true. She turned twenty-six a month ago, works as a media producer for an online clothing company, and lives alone in a one bedroom apartment in London.  However, unless she physically has something in front of her to remind her of her real age and the passing of time, Y/N disregards this information.

Usually, the reminder is a bill in the mail, or a phone call to remind her that she needs to book an appointment with her doctor.  Usually, the reminder is an ache in her back, her glasses prescription getting worse, or realizing that she has no idea what her teenage cousins are talking about when she sees them at Christmas.  Usually, the reminder is enough to give her pause, but not enough to throw her for a loop.

This time, however, the reminder is her childhood best friend naked in her bathroom.

Y/N and Harry had been friends since they were in primary school, after Y/N had moved to London with her mother.  Their new house just happened to be next to Harry’s, and Anne and Y/N’s mother had quickly hit it off.  Anne had been quick to volunteer her son to be Y/N’s tour guide at school, and despite not being enthusiastic about each other in the beginning, the two began to grow closer by the end of Y/N’s first week there.  Within a month, the two were inseparable, and that didn’t change as they entered their teen years, started secondary school, and Harry left London to become a member of the most famous boyband in the world.  Just typical teen things.

However, despite their distance, Y/N and Harry had remained as close as ever.  They constantly texted, called, and video chatted with each other, and Y/N even joined Harry on tour a few times (with permission from her mother).  Although both of them had been worried when Harry left, their worries and fears never came to fruition.  Just as they balanced each other in personality, they balanced each other in lifestyle—when Y/N needed a break from high school and university, Harry brought her to shows, award ceremonies, and parties, and when Harry felt like his fame was overwhelming, Y/N sent him reminders of home, hosted countless movie nights for him, and told him story after story of university life.

They were so perfectly matched that, when they were younger, many people—and tabloids—suspected that they were dating.  Even their mothers had asked them, on occasion, if one of them had any interest in the other.  However, their answers were always the same.  Y/N and Harry were best friends, and nothing more.  Sure, they were touchy, affectionate, called each other pet names, and had even kissed on a few occasions during truth or dare at parties, but none of it actually meant anything.  Y/N had watched Harry grow from a cute kid to an awkward teen to a self-assured man, and her feelings for him had never changed, and an attraction to him had never developed.

Until now.

Harry’s facing away from her, his towel in his hand as he dries his chest.  His entire body glistens with water from the shower.  Y/N can’t stop herself from letting her eyes canvas over every inch of his smooth arms, toned back, down lower to his—

Her breath catches in her throat.  Yeah. His ass is toned, too, she thinks to herself, and only has another moment to think that she shouldn’t be looking before Harry glances over his shoulder, alarmed by the small sound she had made.

“Y/N—” His eyes widen a bit, but he doesn’t make an effort to cover himself with his towel very quickly.

Her eyes automatically follow his movement for a moment before she realizes what she’s about to see. “Sorry!” Y/N turns around quickly, her face heated. “Sorry, I—the door was unlocked, I didn’t realize you were—”

“It’s fine.” Harry fixes his towel around his waist. “Don’t worry about—”

Y/N leaves the bathroom before he can finish his sentence, walking to her bedroom quickly and shutting the door tightly behind her.

Harry, it seems, is today’s reminder that she’s no longer a teenager, because his body is that of a man.

It’s not like you haven’t seen him shirtless before, she tells herself, walking to her dresser to pick out a change of clothes.  Y/N’s seen him half naked countless times.  The whole world has seen Harry half naked countless times.  But she’s never seen him like that.

When did Harry grow up? Somehow, between movie nights and pool parties and going away to school, Y/N had failed to notice that her childhood best friend is no longer a child.  Harry had grown into his features, developed muscles in his arms and chest, tattooed designs all over his skin, and had become an incredibly attractive adult without her noticing.

Y/N pulls her pajamas off quickly, stopping to glance at herself in her full length mirror.  She, like Harry, is also no longer a child. She had grown into her features like he had, had gotten a few tattoos, made her share of mistakes, and became an adult the same way he did.  Neither her nor Harry’s growth had happened overnight.

As she runs her hand between her chest, down her stomach, brushing her hip, Y/N can’t help but wonder: has Harry noticed that they’ve grown up?  Does he still look at her and see the shy little girl, the developing teenager, or does he look at her and see a grown woman?  Is she the only one who’s been late to the party?

Y/N feels a flutter in the pit of her stomach.  Is it possible that, at some point, Harry looked at her and had the same realization that she had a moment ago?  That not only had she grown into a woman, but that she had grown into an attractive woman?

The sound of the bathroom door opening distracts Y/N from her thoughts, and she hurries to finish getting dressed.  Her shirt, she finds when she pulls it on, smells a bit like Harry’s cologne, as she had set it on the side of the bed that he slept on the night before.  She likes it more than she should.

After she’s dressed, she debates just staying in her bedroom to avoid facing Harry again for a bit longer. However, she can hear him working her coffee maker in the kitchen, and knows she can’t hide in her bedroom like a child.  She isn’t a child.

Neither is he, she thinks to herself as she touches her bedroom doorknob. Which is the problem.

Still, Y/N shakes herself from her thoughts and walks out to her kitchen.

Harry, now dressed in wide leg jeans and a plain white t-shirt, is leaning against her kitchen counter, a cup of coffee in his hand.  His hair is still wet from his shower, but other than that, he looks normal. Completely normal.

And yet, Y/N can’t manage to meet his eyes.

“Good morning.” Harry’s voice is low, a bit of amusement in it as he notices her demeanor. “How did you sleep?”

“Fine.” Y/N hates how tight her voice is as she grabs a mug from the kitchen cabinet. “I slept fine. Did you?”

Harry nods, his eyes still tracing her every move as her own eyes avoid him. “I did.  Woke up a bit early, though.  Thought I’d shower before brunch.”

Right.  Brunch.  They’re having brunch that day with a few old friends, at a place just down the street from Y/N’s apartment, which is why Harry had stayed over the night before.  Y/N was going to have to act normal around their other friends, which means she can’t avoid looking at him for much longer.

“I’m sorry.” She says as she pours a cup of coffee. “I am, I—I should’ve knocked.  I forgot you slept over, and—”

“It’s fine, Y/N.  I should’ve locked the door.” Harry says easily, the corner of his lips tugging up. “It’s not a big deal.  Besides, it’s not like you haven’t seen me naked before.”

At that comment, Y/N pauses. “Except…I haven’t seen you naked before?”

Harry shakes his head adamantly. “No.  You have. There’s no way we’ve been friends for almost twenty years, and you haven’t.”

“Harry, believe me. I’ve seen you in a lot of weird positions over the years, but I’ve never seen you completely nude.” Y/N feels her regular ease with him begin to return, just a little bit. “I would remember that.”

“Would you?” Harry cocks an eyebrow, his coffee cup half raised to his lips.

The bit of ease that returned disappears immediately. “I—” Y/N’s cheeks heat up again. “Shut up, you know what I meant.”

Harry tries to hide his laugh behind his coffee, but fails. “I’m just teasing you, love.  It’s fine, promise.  I don’t mind that you saw.  I’m very comfortable in my body.”

Y/N rolls her eyes. “Too comfortable, I think.”

“Is there such a thing as being too comfortable in your body?” Harry asks in a teasing voice, crossing his arms.

“When your best friend walks in on you naked and you don’t bother to cover yourself?” Despite the blush on her cheeks, Y/N manages to laugh. “Yes.  There is.”

“I don’t know…” Harry finishes his coffee and sets the mug in the kitchen sink. “It sounds like there’s issues with your comfort, not mine.”

Before Y/N can form a reply, Harry shoots her a smirk and walks out of the kitchen.

For the rest of the day, Y/N does her best not to think about that morning’s awkward encounter. Brunch with her friends is normal, and she just lets herself enjoy having Harry home, and catching up with everyone.  The afternoon also passes in an unremarkable way, as does that night.  Over the next few days, however, things begin to change.

Within two weeks, the atmosphere of the country has shifted.  There’s a virus that’s highly contagious and can be fatal, Y/N’s work tells her to work from home, and soon the entire country is being told to stay home to avoid catching Coronavirus.

And then Harry texts her two days later, without any warning or leeway for her to disagree.

I’m on the last flight back to London.  Pack a bag and bring some groceries to my place, so we can isolate together.  You’ll go crazy alone in your flat.

Y/N tries to reply that it’s not necessary, but her message doesn’t go through.  Harry’s already on the plane.  So she does what he says, and packs a bag of clothes, her work bag, some alcohol, and her favourite snacks, and drives over to his house.

Letting herself in with her key, Y/N begins to bring the house back to life.  She lights Harry’s candles and orders some dinner, as well as groceries for the next couple weeks.  She makes sure she gets his favourite foods, and the weird snacks that only he likes.  She calls her mum to tell her she’ll be with Harry, and Anne, to tell her the same thing. And then she waits.

When Harry finally walks through the front door, he looks more like the tired seventeen year old on his first tour than the grown man she had seen a few weeks ago.  The bags under his eyes are evidence of his jetlag and stress, his jacket is rumpled from the plane, his hair just as messy, and he looks like he could collapse the second the door closes behind him.

“H.” Y/N walks towards him and gives him a tight hug.  One hand goes to his back and the other to his hair, playing with it as she always does. “Are you alright?”

“Long flight.” Harry mutters in reply, eyes closed as he holds her tight. “Everyone’s going insane in the States.  I’m lucky I got a flight back to London.”

“Why did you?” Y/N pulls back, brushing his messy hair from his eyes. “You could’ve stayed in LA.”

“Yeah, but…” Harry shrugs a bit. “I knew you’d be alone.  And I wanted to be with you.”

Y/N can’t help the soft smile that creeps onto her face. “C’mon.  I have dinner ready.”

Harry barely makes it through dinner with his eyes open, but still insists on watching a movie after. Y/N tries to tell him that he should just go to sleep, but he won’t hear it.

“We can watch it in my bed, like we used to when we were little.” Harry gives her his best puppy dog eyes. “Please?”

Y/N shoves his shoulder. “You’re twenty-six.  Stop pouting to get what you want.”

“I’ll stop pouting when it stops working.”

Y/N laughs in spite of herself. “Fine, but shower first.  You smell like a plane.”

Of course, as predicted, Harry starts to drift to sleep within the first half hour of the movie. He slips down in the bed more and more, until his head is in Y/N’s lap completely.  Out of habit, Y/N begins to play with his damp curls, running her fingers through them at a steady pace as she watches the movie.

Harry’s breathing begins to even out as she does, and Y/N begins to pay more attention to him than the TV.  When they spend the night with each other, Y/N always falls asleep first.  It’s rare she gets to see him completely relaxed.

As much as she loves his green eyes, his eyelashes may be a close second.  They’re so long and dark that they almost make Y/N jealous.  And his cheeks…she brings one hand up to gently touch them.  They’re stubbled from his long day of travel, but the skin underneath feels soft. Despite having lost his baby fat years ago, there’s still a layer of tenderness in his body.

Y/N is so distracted by him that she doesn’t realize that she’s stopped playing with his hair, not until Harry speaks up.

“Why’d you stop?” His voice is groggy with exhaustion, lower, with a thicker accent.  His words slur together as well

“Hm?” Y/N hums in her throat in response. “I thought you were asleep.”

“Not really.” Harry’s eyes stay closed as he shifts his position a bit. “Will you play with my hair a bit longer?  Feels nice.”

The movie credits roll in the background as Y/N does what he says.  Harry sighs contently, relaxing back into her again.

Y/N turns the TV off, so the only light in the room comes from the moon through the open curtains. It shines over half of Harry’s face, catching the ends of his eyelashes.  Somehow, the moonlight makes his cheeks and lips even more pink.  

“You’re really pretty, y’know that?” Y/N says it absentmindedly, her fingers still combing through Harry’s curls.

“Thanks.” He has just enough energy to mumble a response. “’M, not as pretty as you, though.”

Y/N’s stomach flutters when he says it, so quiet that she’s not even certain she heard him correctly. “Liar.”

“’S true.” Harry’s reply is even less audible than before. “So pretty.”

If Harry was awake and more present in the conversation, Y/N might tease him.  She might try to make him blush, or roll his eyes, or laugh. Maybe, just maybe, she’d even ask him to elaborate, just enough that she could figure out what the fluttering in her stomach means.

But Harry is hardly awake right now.  And it wouldn’t be fair.

“Go to sleep, H,” is all Y/N says, shifting to lay down a bit more without pausing the movement of her fingers.

…

It takes Harry a few days to readjust to London time.  While Y/N spends her weekdays working from the kitchen table, Harry naps and fiddles with his guitar and journal.  While she can tell he’s working on something, Y/N can also tell that he’s not making much process.

A week after coming back from LA, Harry half stomps into the kitchen during the afternoon, frustration clear on his face as he opens the fridge and grabs an apple.  He bites into it angrily and leans against the counter, the irritation still on his face.

Y/N glances at him from behind her laptop. “Everything alright?”

Harry gives half a shrug. “Trying to write.”

“And how’s that going?”

“Fucking sucks.” Harry takes another bite of the apple. “I thought I’d feel more inspired, being at home and not having deadlines, but I can’t get anything out.  Not anything good, anyways.”

“I know the feeling.” Y/N sighs as she closes her laptop. “There’s been a huge surge in online orders, and my boss wants me to create more promo material, but it’s hard to focus on anything right now.”

Harry nods and glances out the window. “Doesn’t help that it’s a beautiful day, but we can’t go out.”

“We can go out.  We just can’t leave the property.” Y/N replies. “You have a giant backyard.  Why don’t you use it?”

“Yeah.  Maybe I’ll go for a swim.” Harry takes another bite of his apple. “You want to come?”

Y/N laughs a bit. “Unlike you, H, I have a real nine to five job.  I’m on the clock for another two hours.”

“After, then.” Harry tosses his apple core in the compost and gives her a grin. “I hope you packed that yellow bikini.”

Y/N crumples a piece of scrap paper in her hand and throws it at him. “Piss off.”

Y/N did, in fact, pack her yellow bikini.  However, when she’s changing from her clothes into a swimsuit, she chooses her blue bikini instead, just to have a bit of agency.  Every instinct in her is telling her to wear what Harry said to, and it’s a little concerning.  She’s never cared about dressing for him before, and she isn’t prepared to start.

Despite the different colour, Harry still grins from the edge of the pool when he sees her walk out. “Look at you.  Should’ve put you in the Watermelon Sugar music video.”

“Shut up.” Y/N sits on the edge of the pool, dangling her lets in the water.  Harry rests his head on his arms, his cheeky grin still on his face as he looks up at her.

“I’m serious.” He says innocently. “It was a fun day.  You really would’ve liked it.”

“Of course you thought it was fun; you had a bunch of beautiful girls fawning over you and feeding you fruit.” Y/N rolls her eyes from behind her sunglasses. “You’re such a narcissist.”

“All musicians are narcissists, love.  At least, the best ones are.” Harry’s grin grows as he pushes away from the ledge. “Are you going to just sit there and look pretty, or are you actually going to swim?”

“I’m going to tan.” Y/N leans her head back, enjoying the feeling of the warm sun.

Harry shakes his head. “No, sorry.  The pool is for swimming only.”

“Says who?”

“Says me.”

In hindsight, Y/N should’ve known what Harry was about to do.  She’s been friends with him long enough that she knows how his brain works. However, Y/N is enjoying the sun so much that she lets her guard down for one moment, and that one moment is all Harry needs.

She feels his hands grip her legs, and before she can stop him, he pulls her into the pool.  Her entire body submerges, and when she finally rises, gasping for air, the only thing she can hear is Harry’s snickering.

“You’re such an ass!” Y/N hits his shoulder hard, not caring about leaving a mark on him. “That’s not funny!”

“The pool is for swimming only.  I told you.” Harry can’t stop laughing long enough to make it through his sentence clearly. “Them’s the rules.”

“Them’s the rules.” Y/N repeats in a mocking voice, hitting him one more time. “You’re the worst.”

“Maybe, but you’re stuck with me.” Harry runs a hand through his wet hair. “At least until quarantine is done.”

“I should’ve stayed alone in my apartment.” Y/N mutters, tossing her wet sunglasses on the pool ledge. “Would’ve been so much more peaceful.”

“And boring.” Harry points out. “And you wouldn’t get to take relaxing swims like this!”

“Right.  Relaxing.” Y/N splashes him playfully. “Jerk.”

Harry just grins at you.

…

“Want one?”

Y/N glances at Harry as he packs loose marijuana into a wrapper, concentration clear on his face as he rolls it.

“You learn how to roll those in LA?” Y/N asks, taking a sip of her wine.

Harry chuckles lightly, his skin illuminated by the fire burning in front of them and the moon above them. “Yeah.  I’m not very good, though.  Usually I have somebody else to roll them for me.”

“So high maintenance.”

Another low laugh rolls out of Harry’s mouth. “Ha.  High maintenance.”

Y/N rolls her eyes, but an endearing smile is on her face. “It’s still illegal in the U.K., you know.”

“I doubt the police are going to break social distancing rules to arrest me for it.” Harry’s tongue pokes out of his mouth as he tries his best to roll the joint tightly.

Y/N watches as Harry brings the wrapper to his mouth, licking it lightly.  To her dismay, her attraction to Harry had yet to fade, and spending every moment of the day together wasn’t helping.

“I’m not an eighteen year old girl on your tour bus anymore, Harry.” Y/N raises her wine glass. “I drink red wine now.  I’m sophisticated.”

Harry snorts, his eyes flickering to her before looking back down at the joint. “Sophisticated, right. Like you didn’t do body shots off the bartender at your birthday party this year.”

Y/N’s cheeks burn. “Birthdays don’t count.”

“Neither did tour buses, and neither does my backyard in the middle of a pandemic.” Harry seals the joint as best he can. “You may have a fancy job now, but you’re still my Y/N.”

His Y/N.  That phrase ignites the now familiar flutter in her stomach and, over the last few days, her core.  Something about Harry identifying her as his drives Y/N insane, even if it’s nothing new.

“And what exactly does your Y/N do?” She manages to say after a moment.

“She doesn’t take shit from anyone.  She gets drunk fast and high faster.  She’s always down for a laugh.  And, although she won’t admit it, she has a tendency to make bad decisions that she tries to suppress, but can’t always manage to do so.” Harry sparks his lighter and sticks the joint between his lips, lighting it and puffing it quickly.

“Then you should know that your Y/N can’t have a joint of her own.” Y/N steals the joint from Harry’s lips, taking a few puffs of her own from it before handing it back.

The smoke curls in her lungs, forcing a few coughs from her.

“Alright?” Harry asks, concern in his eyes.

Y/N nods, her hand pressed to her chest like she can stop the burn. “Yeah.  Just haven’t done that in a while.”

“You always cough so much. It would be cute if it wasn’t so bloody concerning.” Harry says casually, lifting the joint to his lips and inhaling.

Y/N watches as he exhales smoke slowly.  She wonders if she looks as attractive as he does when she blows out smoke.

Harry grins at her with just the corner of his mouth, like there’s a secret tugging at the edge of his lips.

Y/N really doubts it.

“Here.” Harry places the joint between her lips. “Inhale slowly.”

Y/N does as he says, doing her best to keep from coughing until the joint and his hand is away from her face.  Her eyes burn a bit, both from the smoke and the oncoming high that’s starting to twist through her body.

“That’s a good girl.” Harry praises her before leaning back, placing the joint back between his own lips. “You’ve gotten better at that.  Thought you were going to pass out the first time we smoked, remember?”

“I remember I almost did.” Y/N giggles to herself as she settles down into the couch more. “I coughed so much that I thought I was going to die on that tour bus.”

“Niall was certain you had.” Harry laughs too, and Y/N known they’re both playing back the same memory. “Wasn’t quite sure how we were going to explain that one to Paul.  Neither was I, honestly.”

“You don’t give me enough credit.” Despite the feeling coming over her, YN still takes another sip of her wine. “I was fine.”

Harry nods as he finishes the joint, setting the butt down into his ash tray. “Still…we had some fun nights on the bus when you were there.”

“That was a fun summer.” Y/N agrees, her eyes fixed on the fire before them. “Lots of good memories.”

As Y/N watches the fire, Harry watches her.  He lets another moment or two pass before speaking again.

“When you were on tour with us that summer…” He rubs his lips absentmindedly. “You and Niall.  Did you two ever…?”

“What?  Fuck?” The weed and the alcohol take away the careful tone of Y/N’s regular speech, leaving honesty and bluntness behind.

Harry laughs once. “I was going to say date, but yeah.  I guess so.”

“We didn’t date. We fooled around a few times.” Y/N shrugs, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “He was fun.  But we both knew it wasn’t anything serious, just something to do while I was on tour with you.”

Harry nods a bit, reaching for his own drink and taking a sip.  Y/N watches the movement with heavy lidded eyes.  His arm muscles flex underneath his tattooed skin when he moves, and the way his fingers wrap around his glass is fascinating to her.

“I figured he would have told you.” Y/N pulls her sweater around her tighter.  Now that the sun has set completely, a chill has appeared. “You guys always talked about girls together.”

“No, he didn’t tell me. And I didn’t ask.” Harry keeps his glass in his hand, looking down at it with an unreadable expression. “I thought you might tell me, but you didn’t, either.”

The substances in Y/N’s system are clouding her mind, but she does her best to focus on Harry’s words. As a way to ground herself, she pulls her sweater away from her body, hoping that the cold air will help.

“I’m sorry.” She says slowly, like it takes all her effort to get the words out. “I didn’t mean to…hurt your feelings.”

“You didn’t.”

“Oh.” Confusion fogs Y/N’s mind. “Then…why is it bothering you?”

“It’s not bothering me.” Harry denies, finishing off his drink. “I was just wondering why.  You usually tell me everything.  You always have.”

Y/N bites her lip. “I don’t tell you about every person I sleep with.”

Harry hums low in the back of his throat, but offers no other response.

After a few minutes, Y/N stands up. “I think I’m going to head to bed.”

Twisting his empty glass around in his hands, Harry nods. “Alright.  I’ll be up in a little bit.”

“You know, you have a guest room.” Y/N pauses, fiddling with the bottom of her sweater.  Her skin feels unsettled, and the fabric against it isn’t helping. “I should probably start using it.  Social distancing, and all that.”

Harry looks up at her, a stubborn look reflecting in his eyes. “No.  I sleep better with you beside me.”

When Harry finally comes up to bed an hour later, Y/N is still awake, eyes closed, with her back away from the door and head toward the wall.  She doesn’t turn over when she hears the door creak open, and instead just listens to the rustling sounds of Harry changing, going to the bathroom, washing his hands, and returning to the bedroom.

Y/N feels his weight on the bed, but doesn’t hear him slide in next to her.  Instead, she does her best to stay completely relaxed when she feels his fingers brush against her hairline, pushing back a few loose strands.

Staying completely relaxed, it turns out, is easier thought than done.  The moment Harry touches her, Y/N feels the nerves in her face burst to life. It’s like electricity, like nothing she’s ever felt before from any previous touches from Harry.  Behind her closed eyes, Y/N feels her head spinning, but she’s certain it must be the weed and the alcohol in her system.

Finally, the sheets are pulled back, and Harry gets under the covers.  He pulls Y/N back against him, and Y/N can feel the hot skin of his chest pressed against her shoulders.  Harry takes a moment to adjust before sighing, almost in content, and then he presses a gentle kiss to the back of her shoulder.

The tender action leaves Y/N speechless.  The action itself isn’t new; they had always been very physically affectionate with each other.  But there’s something about the moment that Y/N can’t quite place a finger on. Perhaps she would be able to if she was sober, or less tired, but with her brain in its current state, the words she needs are lost, and she’s certain she won’t remember the feeling in the morning.

Harry inhales deeply, his nose buried in her hair, and sighs again.  Y/N can feel him relaxing back against her, but his arms stay wrapped around her tightly.  It’s a comforting embrace, and makes it easy for Y/N’s mind to finally quiet and drift off.

…

“You’re still working?”

Y/N looks up from her laptop to see Harry standing above her, sweaty from his workout.  His hair is tied up in a little ponytail on top of his head, and he has a towel wrapped around his shoulders that he uses to wipe sweat from his face.  His body is literally glistening in the sunlight, and Y/N suddenly finds it very hard to focus on her work.

“I am.” She says finally, closing the lid of her laptop and stretching out on the beach chair. “Or I was. I’m done for today.”

“Good.” Harry sits down on the chair next to her. “I’m going to have a shower, but I was thinking we should try baking something later.”

Y/N raises an eyebrow. “Why?”

“Because I want cupcakes, and homemade are way better than store bought.” Harry says easily, stealing Y/N’s water and taking a gulp from it.

Y/N watches his throat move as he swallows the water, how his Adam’s apple bobs, how he licks his lips when he finally pulls the glass away from his mouth.

Y/N’s own mouth suddenly feels very dry.

“Alright, yeah.” Y/N nods weakly. “We can bake something later.  It’ll be fun.”

…

“It’ll be fun.” Y/N shakes her head in disbelief. “God, I can’t believe I said that.”

“It was fun!” Harry argues, holding up a red velvet cupcake. “And we did it!”

“And we made a mess.” Y/N gestures to the kitchen around them, which looks like a warzone.  Flour, powdered sugar, and cocoa powder cover every counter surface.  There are broken eggshells on the counter, splatters of batter everywhere, and both Y/N and Harry have dyed red hands from food colouring.

“It could be worse.” Harry shrugs, clearly untroubled. “C’mon.  Try a cupcake.”

Y/N reaches for one, but Harry simply lifts the one in his hand to her mouth.  She locks eyes with him as she takes a bite, the icing smearing across her top lip.

Y/N chews slowly and swallows hard. “Yeah.  They’re good.”

Harry extends a hand, and his finger runs along her lip, collecting the icing.  He pops it into his mouth, sucking for a moment before humming in agreement. “Yeah.  Sweet.”

The cupcakes, it turns out, pair well with watermelon cocktails, and soon Y/N and Harry are sitting on the couch, takeout and cupcakes in front of them and drinks in their hands as they giggle and talk.  They’re intoxicated, but not just from the alcohol in the strong drinks that Harry makes.

“Honestly, working from home isn’t ideal, but it’s not that bad.” Y/N pops a bite of food into her mouth, chewing thoughtfully. “Definitely not the worst part of quarantine.”

“Yeah?” Harry leans back on the couch. “What’s the worst part?”

Y/N shrugs. “It sucks being away from people, cooped up inside.”

Harry nods, but his face looks wistful. “I miss sex.”

Y/N laughs, but she nods in agreement as well. “Fuck, I know.  I miss sex so much.”

“It’s nice, you know? A good way to burn some energy…always sleep so well after…” Harry sighs, taking a sip of his drink between his phrases. “I feel like I’m back on a tour bus again, with no one around but my hand.”

A giggle escapes Y/N’s mouth. “How tragic.” She also takes a sip of her drink, and tries to stop herself from making a face.  Harry really does make them strong. “I just miss touching.  I haven’t been this touch starved since I was seventeen.”

Harry makes a scoffing noise in the back of his throat. “We touch.”

“That’s different.” Y/N finishes her drink. “That’s friendly touching.  It’s not what I meant.”

“What did you mean, then?” Harry challenges her, a glint in his eyes that Y/N’s come to recognize as a sign of trouble.

She refuses to take the bait. “You know what I meant.”

“I don’t.” Harry says it innocently, and he reaches forward to take her glass from her. “How about I get us some refills while you think of how to say it?”

Y/N lets him take the glass (she loves his drinks, despite how strong they are), but shakes her head. “Stop being an ass.  You know exactly what I meant.”

A low laugh rolls out of Harry as he walks to the built-in bar he has in the lounge.  He begins to recreate the drinks, muddling this, adding a splash of that.  If Harry wasn’t already a rock star, she’d suggest he become a mixologist.

“Maybe I do know what you meant.” Harry shakes the cocktail shaker with ease before straining the liquid out over their glasses, which he’s filled with fresh ice. “But I want to hear you say it.”

Y/N runs a hand through her hair.  She feels warm from the alcohol, and the lit candles around them aren’t helping.  The food and cupcakes sit on the table, all but forgotten in their new conversation. “Say what?”

Harry’s lips pull up in a smirk, but his eyes show something else.  He walks back over and hands her the drink before taking a seat next to her again. “The kind of touching you miss.”

Their fingers touch as Y/N takes the glass from him, and suddenly the warmth of the room feels ten times hotter. “You want me to say it?”

Harry lifts his glass to his lips, but keeps his eyes on her. “I do.”

“I…” Y/N takes a sip of the drink (which is stronger than the one before) and then presses the cold glass to her cheek. “I miss touching.  Intimate touching.  And…being touched intimately.”  

Harry inhales deeply, stretching out his shoulders before responding. “Yeah.  I miss that too.  Holding hands, touching someone’s stomach, chest, legs…having them play with my hair…”

“I play with your hair.” Y/N says defensively, a crease appearing between her eyebrows.

Harry laughs once. “Right, but like you said…that’s different.”

Y/N clears her throat. “Right.”

Harry takes a long sip from his drink. “’S still nice, though.” Harry adds after a moment, licking his lips. “I love when you play with my hair.  You know that.”

Nodding softly, Y/N begins to trail a finger over the rim of her glass.  Whenever she begins to get tipsy, she begins to fidget more, and feel freer in her actions.  And when Y/N glances back at Harry, she can tell he recognizes the sign as well.

“What about you?” He asks, bringing her back from her thoughts. “What do you miss having people do?”

Y/N drinks again, pulling her knees to her chest as she leans against the couch’s armrest. “I miss…having my hair played with, too.  That’s always nice.  I miss having my fingers played with…neck kisses…I like when people, like, rub my arms or thighs, just absentmindedly…” She leans her head against her arm. “Your turn.”

“My turn?” Harry rubs his nose lightly, and Y/N can tell he’s feeling the alcohol, too. “What’s my turn?”

“Tell me what else you like.” Y/N smiles softly, a small laugh just barely bubbling out from her. “We’ve never actually talked about it, H.  Isn’t that strange?”

Harry turns to face her more, pausing to think for a moment. “I suppose we’ve never been specific before, yeah.” He taps his thumb against his H ring. “I like being in control, usually. Telling them what to do, where to touch me…” His eyes get a faraway look in them. “But sometimes it’s nice to give up control.  Have someone else…”

“Decide.” Y/N finishes his sentence for him when he trails off. “Yeah.  I’m more like that, I think.  I usually let someone else decide.  But I like the in-between, too.  Like…both exploring each other.”

“What do you mean?” Harry cocks his head to the side curiously.

Y/N shrugs loosely, her finger still tracing her glass. “’S hard to explain.”

Harry’s voice is low when he replies, almost like he’s somewhere else. “Try.”

“Well…” Y/N takes a drink before setting her glass down. “It’s like…do you remember your first time?”

Harry blinks, surprised at the question, but nods. “Yeah.  I do.”

“And remember how nervous you were?”

“Yeah.”

“And like…” Y/N plays with her fingers as she ponders her next words. “You were nervous, yeah, but there was also this excitement in you.  Kind of like…a breathlessness.  And you looked at the other person and knew they…”

Harry closes his eyes for a moment. “Felt the same.”

“Yeah.” Y/N tucks her hair behind her ears. “And just, like, being comfortable with them, and knowing you could both explore, and ask questions, and you were both together…” Y/N feels heat rise to her cheeks as she trails off. “I don’t know.  I feel like that’s rare, but I—it’s nice.  I like it.”

“Yeah.” Harry rubs his thumb over his lip as he shifts his position on the couch. “It’s nice, yeah. Rare, usually.  But nice.”

“I think it’s rare, because, like—” The alcohol makes it harder for Y/N to gather her thoughts, but also harder to sensor them. “I don’t know, I feel like when I was younger, and hadn’t had sex yet, I took more time with, like, finding the right person? Like I wanted it to be with someone who loved me for the first time, and someone I was comfortable with, and it was. And then after, the love part didn’t matter so much for me.” Y/N glances at Harry, who seems to be hanging on her every word. “Which, like, was fine.  What mattered to me the most was that whoever I had sex with respected me. And they did, so that was…good. But it’s different.” Y/N rubs her arms. “I don’t know if that makes sense…”

“It does.” Harry assures her, placing a light hand on her knee.  He begins to rub small circles. “Keep going.”

“I just think that, like, that in-between, breathless, exploring each other kind of thing…the comfort…that’s rare because it only really happens with someone you love.” Y/N murmurs. “At least, that’s how it is for me.  And I haven’t really been in love much in my life.”

“I’ve been in love probably too much.” Harry admits, his hand still on Y/N’s knee. “Too much to be good for me.”

Y/N shakes her head adamantly. “No, H.  That’s good. That’s…brave.  You’re not afraid of how you feel.  Most people are.”

“Maybe.” Harry finishes his drink again with one long gulp.  

Y/N watches as he does, seeing a little drip of liquid slip from the corner of his mouth.  She can’t stop herself from leaning forward and wiping it away with her thumb, feeling the stubble of Harry’s chin scratch against her.

Harry watches her with hooded eyes as she leans back to her previous position.  His hand slips a bit higher, from her knee to her lower thigh, but she doesn’t say anything.

“Who have you been in love with?” He asks.  His words are slurred a bit, and his accent seems thicker.

“My first boyfriend, Parker. You remember him.” Y/N sighs, closing her eyes as she herself remembers. “And…Christian, from university.  We were together for two years.  That’s it, I think.”

Despite the alcohol, Harry’s face still shows some surprise. “Really?  No one else?  No one since Christian?”

Y/N shrugs. “I’ve dated, yeah, and had relationships, but…I don’t know.  I didn’t love any of them.  I was…infatuated.  But I never…it was intense, but like—intense like a spark.  Nothing prolonged.”

Harry hums in response. “Thought you were going to say Niall for a moment.  He was pretty torn up when you went back to school after that summer.”

Y/N’s face mimics Harry’s surprise from a moment ago. “Was he?”

“Yeah.  Moped around a bit, spent time by himself, on his phone every two minutes…” Harry’s expression shows the difficulty it’s taking him to think back eight years while drunk. “I knew it was because you left.  Thought you two had an…agreement, or something.”

“An agreement?” A giggle escapes Y/N. “This isn’t a Jane Austen book, Harry.  We didn’t have an agreement.” Once she gets her laughter out, she sighs. “He was that upset?”

“Yeah.” Harry scratches the back of his neck. “So I thought…he must be in love with you.  And you were…”

“No, I wasn’t.” Y/N says softly. “He was so upset that you thought he was in love with me?”

“Yeah.”

Y/N bites her lip. “Was he more upset than you?”

Harry takes a moment to reply, looking at her with a serious expression.  His lips are so red, and his eyes are so green, and both of them are so drunk that neither of them can sense the meaning behind what they’re saying.

“No.” Harry finally responds. “He wasn’t.”

…

“Good morning.”

“Shhh.” Y/N covers her eyes with her arm. “Don’t yell in my ear.”

“I whispered.” Harry counters, but his voice is a bit quieter this time. “Do you have a headache?”

“I didn’t know something flavoured with watermelon could make me feel so shitty.” Y/N groans a bit, shifting on the bed without opening her eyes. “What did you do to me?”

When Harry laughs, it’s not audible, but Y/N can feel it through his chest pressed against her side.

“How are you completely fine right now?” She asks, rubbing her eyes.

“I’m used to it.  I’ve always been way better with hangovers than you.” Harry presses a small kiss to her shoulder before getting up. “How does breakfast in bed sound?”

“Normally amazing, but I can’t eat right now.” Y/N mutters. “How about coffee in bed?”

“Sure.” Harry smiles a bit. “You look cute like this.”

“Shut up.”

Harry returns ten minutes later with a tray of coffee, toast, and eggs, of which he manages to coax Y/N to take a few bites.  She doesn’t really want it, but she knows it’s easier to do as he says instead of arguing.

“How about we have a movie day today?” Harry suggests after breakfast. “In bed, since it seems like you won’t be moving anytime soon.”

“And who’s fault is that?” Y/N glares at him from the top of her coffee cup.

Harry raises his hands in defense. “Hey, I didn’t make you drink.  You chose to.”

“I know, but it’s easier to blame you.”

Harry rolls his eyes. “Is that why you’ve been doing it for twenty years?”

“Exactly.”

Harry carefully lifts the empty tray to the ground before holding up the remote. “You can pick the movies.”

Y/N bites her lip. “If we watch Titanic, will you make fun of me when I cry?”

“Of course not.  I’ll even cry with you out of solidarity.”

“Alright.” Y/N settles back into the blankets. “Put it on, then.”

It’s easy for them to be like this, Y/N thinks, as Harry pulls her into his arms when the movie starts. It’s always been so natural for them to be physical and affectionate with each other.  They’ve never acted any other way.

Except this doesn’t feel like any other way.

Yes, Y/N has watched countless movies while cuddling in bed with Harry.  But has he ever whispered in her ear like that before?  Has he ever rubbed her sides so carefully before? Has he ever let his lips rest on the bare skin of her shoulder, almost at the base of her neck?

Y/N can’t recall. However, she’s certain that if he had, it hasn’t felt so electric.

“Look at them.  Look at how Jack watches her.” Harry murmurs his words directly in Y/N’s ear as they watch Jack draw Rose.  Y/N can feel his lips brushing against her, and the heat of his breath and tone of his voice makes her shiver.

“She’s very pretty.” Y/N nods, shifting in Harry’s arms.  She likes how warm he feels.

“I suppose, but that’s not what I meant.” Harry traces shapes on her arm. “I meant look at how he looks at her.  Do you think they have the kind of love you talked about last night?”

Y/N glances over her shoulder at him, surprised he remembers their conversation. “I think so.  Do you?”

“Yeah.” Harry says in a low voice.  He says no more, so Y/N turns back to face the television.

They continue to watch in silence, gripping each other a bit tighter as the Titanic begins to sink. As they watch a mother reading to her two young children in bed, Y/N begins to lose her composure, like always. Tears well in her eyes, and she lets out a quiet hitched breath, a single sniffle.

“It’s alright, love.” Harry’s hands move to her stomach, holding her tighter to comfort her. “Don’t cry.”

Y/N can hear the tears in his voice, just as they’re in her own. “Can’t help it.  This part and the band and the old couple in bed—they always get me.”

“I know.” Harry rubs his thumb along your side.

Y/N reaches behind her without turning around, threading her fingers through Harry’s messy curls.  She plays with them absentmindedly as she watches, and tries to ignore how right it feels to be close to him like this.  She wonders if he notices it, too.

Harry presses a chaste kiss to her shoulder.

…

The day they hit the one month mark of quarantine, Harry sits across from Y/N at breakfast with a determined look on his face.

“I have a proposition for you.”

Y/N glances up at him, her attention barely shifting from her book. “A proposition?”

“Yeah.”

“What kind of proposition?” Y/N tilts her head to the side.  What she first thought was just determination on Harry’s face, she realizes, is actually determination and mischief, and she knows it won’t end well.

“I haven’t had a tattoo in a while.” Harry steals a strawberry from Y/N’s plate. “And I have a machine here, so I was thinking you could give me one.”

Y/N stares at Harry incredulously as he pops the strawberry in his mouth. “Are you out of your mind?”

“Probably.”

“I’m a terrible artist, Harry.  You know that.” Y/N shakes her head. “And even if I wasn’t, I have no idea how to tattoo someone!”

“You can watch a YouTube tutorial, or read a WikiHow.” Harry sighs loudly. “I’m so bored in isolation!”

“What do you even want tattooed?” Y/N eyes the intricate tattoos on his arms suspiciously. “I doubt I could do something like your ship.”

“Something simple.” He shrugs. “Probably lettering.”

“Probably?” Y/N says suspiciously.

“That’s why I want you to do it.  I want it in your handwriting.”

Harry’s tone is easy, but it makes her breathing shallow.

“You do?”

“Yeah.  I was thinking of something to remind me of this time, because of how weird it is.”

Despite her increased heartbeat, Y/N laughs. “What, do you want me to tattoo COVID-19 on you?”

“No.  Be a little more creative than that.” Harry scoffs.

“Why do I have to be creative?”

“Because I want you to decide what I get.”

Y/N’s eyes widen. “You’re not serious.”

“I am!  Why is that so hard to believe?” Harry asks. “I trust you. And you’re good with words.”

“No.  Absolutely not.”

…

“Make sure my drink has two shots in it.” Y/N calls to Harry as she looks over the tattoo supplies on the living room table.

Harry laughs. “I’m not sure I want my tattoo artist to be drunk.”

“The only way I’ll even be your tattoo artist is if I’m drunk.” She counters. “I still think this is an awful idea.”

Harry hands Y/N a tall glass with a light pink liquid in it. “Drink this, and you’ll change your mind.”

Y/N takes the glass and takes a large gulp, not focusing on the taste of the mixers, but the liquid courage behind them.

Harry grins, lifting his own glass. “Cheers.”

“Shut up and sit down.” Y/N mutters.  She ties her hair back before grabbing the disinfectant wipes. “Where do you want this?”

“My upper inner arm. I already shaved it for you.” Harry smirks as he points to the area, which is easily exposed in his loose tank top.

“And you’re sure I can write it with pen?” Y/N asks nervously as she disinfects the area.

“Mhmm.” Harry leans back comfortably in his chair. “What did you decide on?”

“It’s a secret.” Y/N uncaps the pen, getting closer to him.

“So I can’t know until after it’s on me permanently?”

“Is that a problem?” Y/N asks innocently. “I thought you trusted me?”

Harry chuckles. “I did say that, didn’t I?”

“Also that I’m good with words.” Y/N makes sure Harry’s head is turned away before she carefully writes the phrase she chose.  Then she snaps on gloves and starts the machine like she watched in videos early that day.

“You’re fine, love.” Harry assures her, seeing the nervous look on her face. “It’s a small tattoo. It’ll only take a few minutes.”

“Quiet.” Y/N mutters. “I need to focus.”

True to Harry’s word, the small tattoo only takes a few minutes to finish.  When it’s done, Y/N gives it one final wipe before setting the machine down and taking off her gloves.

“Alright.” She picks up her glass and drains it completely. “You can look.”

Harry peers at his arm, curiosity clear on his face.  There, in Y/N’s loopy handwriting is the phrase “touch me.”

“It looks so fucking good, Y/N.” Harry grins at her. “You did amazing!”

“I didn’t fuck it up?” She asks, chewing on her lip anxiously. “Is it alright?”

“You did a lovely job.” Harry smiles. “Wrap it for me?”

Y/N does as he asks, carefully wrapping the fresh tattoo in plastic wrap and taping it to his arm. “I think I’ll accept my tip in the form of another drink.”

Harry snickers. “Coming right up.”

Two drinks later, they’re both back in the honest and loose headspace that they’ve grown familiar with. It’s not enough that they’re unaware of their actions, but both Y/N and Harry know that their lips are looser because of the liquor in their systems.

They’ve migrated to the bedroom to get comfier, but took a few items from the bar with them.  It’s with these items that Harry tops up Y/N’s glass again as he speaks.

“So tell me…” He sets the cocktail shaker on his bedside table. “Why ‘touch me’?”

“You said you wanted something to remind you of isolation.” Y/N takes a long sip of her drink. “And that’s what we both miss the most, right?  Being touched?”

Harry nods slowly, his rings clinking against his glass. “Yeah.  I’m probably going to go straight to the bars after this is all done.  Find someone there.”

He laughs lightly, showing that what he says it half a joke, but Y/N sighs wistfully and shakes her head in disagreement. “I won’t.”

“You won’t?” Harry is surprised, his laughter fading. “Why not?”

Her shrug almost causes her to spill her drink on the bed. “I don’t know.” Y/N sighs again. “I don’t really—I’m not a hookup fan.  Not right now, at least.  It’s not what I…want.”

“What do you want, then?” Harry finishes his drink, but sets the glass down instead of refilling it. “If not sex?”

“I want sex.” Y/N says defensively. “But I want—I don’t want it to be someone random.  I want sex, but I want to be…intimate.  Like, I want to know that person cares about me, and I care about them.”

Harry licks the last of his drink from his lips. “Like that breathless feeling?”

“No.  It would be nice, but no.  That takes time.” Y/N brushes her hair behind her ear. “Just…someone who cares.  I don’t want a quick fuck, I just—”

“You want to be touched. Intimately touched.” Harry takes the empty glass from Y/N’s hand and sets it down on the table next to the bed.

Y/N nods gently, her limbs feeling loose. “Yeah.  Intimately touched.”

“You know, I could…” Harry trails off, pursing his lips. “We could…do that.”

The alcohol makes Y/N slow to recognize the meaning of his words. “What?”

“I’ve noticed you…the way you look at me, it’s…different than it was.” Harry says carefully, his eyes gauging her reaction. “For the last few weeks.  And I—I know that I’m…attracted to you, too.”

“We…” Y/N struggles to think of what to say as she finally registers what’s happening. “We’re friends.”

“I know, but that doesn’t mean I can’t see you as attractive.” Harry looks down at his hands. “Don’t you…?  I mean…”

“I—yeah.  I think you’re—” Y/N laughs a bit nervously. “You’re attractive, H, you know that.  We’ve just never…discussed it.”

“I’m not saying we have to fuck, or—we don’t have to do anything.” Harry straightens his shoulders and looks you in the eye. “Just—when we touch, it’s mild.  If you want to be touched intimately, we could…”

“Like, a hand job?” Y/N says slowly, her words blunt with confusion.

Harry goes a bit red, but he shakes his head quickly. “No, Christ, that’s not what I meant, I—just—can I show you?”

“Um,” Y/N swallows hard. “Sure.”

“Okay.” Harry nods slightly, taking carefully measured breaths. “If this feels weird, or anything seems wrong, just tell me to stop, alright?”

Y/N replies faintly. “Alright.”

Nodding again, Harry moves closer on the bed, sitting on his knees so he can get closer to Y/N, who sits cross-legged.  His hands rest lightly on her bare thighs, and his rings are a cool contrast to his warm skin.

Harry begins to rub his hands up and down her thighs slowly.  His movements are measured, and he watches Y/N’s reaction carefully for a sign of her disliking his actions.  However, what he finds is a nervous but interested girl staring back at him.

“Like this.  Like, what you like.” Harry says lowly.  His hands move more to her inner thighs, but they don’t creep higher. “And…”

“And…?” Y/N asks, her heart rate increasing even more.

Harry moves one hand to the hem of Y/N’s tank top, pushing it up a bit so his hand can rest on her waist. He rubs over her warm skin, marvelling in how smooth and soft it is to his touch.  His fingers graze the lace of her bra, but he goes no higher.

“How—how’s that?” Harry asks quietly.

“It’s, um, it’s good.” Y/N replies as she struggles to keep her voice normal. “Yeah.  Good.  But, um, can you…” Harry’s movements pause at her words, and Y/N feels her cheeks get even warmer. “Maybe touch my, uh, my neck.  If you’d like.”

Harry nods, and the hand on her thigh moves to her neck.  He traces his fingers across her shoulder and over her collarbone, delighting in feeling the curves of her body.  Y/N’s breath hitches when his fingers travel up her neck, and Harry swears he can feel her pulse increase under his fingers.

Y/N’s not sure if it’s the fact that she’s touch starved from self isolating that makes Harry’s touches feel so good, or if it’s the fact that it’s Harry touching her, but she doesn’t dwell on it.  Instead, she closes her eyes and tilts her head back, allowing him better access.

She feels Harry’s breath before she feels his lips, but she’s still surprised when she feels him begin to sponge light kisses across her neck.

“H…”

“Is this alright?” He asks the question right below her ear, and yet she can barely hear him because he’s so quiet.

“Yes.” Y/N breathes. “Yeah.”

“Good.” Harry returns to pressing light kisses to her skin, his hands still rubbing over her sides and hips.

For the first time since seeing Harry naked in her bathroom, Y/N can’t deny or explain away her attraction to him.  She can’t convince herself that she doesn’t want him to touch her, because she does, and she can’t tell herself that she doesn’t need him, because she does. Every fibre of her being is telling her that she needs Harry, and she needs him now.  Her heart is pounding, her skin is on fire, and her core feels like she’d going to explode if he doesn’t do something.  And yet, Y/N can’t tell him to touch her more.  She’s frozen, mind blank, and she can only register what Harry is doing at the moment as what she wants.

Harry continues to kiss her neck, never lingering too long in one spot, never sucking too hard. Every kiss is gentle and chaste, except the few rare ones that include the tip of his tongue running over her skin.

After what feels like an eternity, Harry pulls away from her neck, face flushed.  Despite his hands still on her body, Y/N makes an involuntary sound in the back of her throat.

“Is that better?” He asks lowly, rubbing his thumb against your hip.

“I—kind of.” Y/N says softly.  If anything, she thinks, it’s worse.  She needs to satisfy the burn inside her, but she doesn’t know how.

“Good.” Harry replies, but he doesn’t take his hands off her.

Y/N’s own hands have been sitting at her sides as his moved over her body, but she raises one now, as hesitant as Harry was.  She extends it towards his arm, but pauses with her fingers right over his skin.

“Is it okay if I…?”

The corner of Harry’s lips lifts up, just barely. “Yeah, love.  Go ahead.”

Harry’s skin is warm beneath her touch.  Y/N traces the outline of his mermaid tattoo carefully before moving onto others.  She loves how his arm curves under her touch, how he stays still and lets her explore.  She appreciates it, thinking that if Harry made any sudden movements, she’d force herself to pull away.

Soon, her fingers move from tracing his tattoos to tracing the lines of his muscles.  She moves down his forearm to his hand, running her fingers over the veins that show through his tan skin, over his knuckles, down the tips of his calloused fingers and back.  

Harry sucks in a breath, and Y/N’s trance flickers for a moment as her eyes move to his face to see what’s wrong.

“Sorry, just—surprised me.” Harry says, voice low yet sheepish.  He nods down to his thigh, where Y/N realizes her own hand is resting.

“Oh—” She moves to pull her hand away, but Harry places his own on top.

“It’s fine.” He says quickly. “Keep going.”

Y/N bites her lip as she turns her attention back to his arm.  Her fingers move slowly and carefully back up his forearm to his upper arm. She traces over his tattoos while she rubs her thumb gently against the muscle, and stops her fingers at the edge of his t-shirt sleeve.  With a quick glance at Harry, she pushes the sleeve up, tucking it up on his shoulder so she can run her fingers over his ship tattoo, which is one of her favourites.

“Feels nice.” Harry murmurs, his eyes following her movements.

Y/N glances back at his face, taking in his appearance.  His lips are red from the time he spent kissing her neck, and his cheeks are still flushed.  His eyes are darker than usual, and she’s not certain if it’s the candlelight or something else causing it.  There’s a light sheen of sweat on his forehead, with a few loose curls hanging down. Out of reflex, Y/N reaches up and pushes his hair back out of his eyes.

Before she can return her hand to his arm, Harry captures it in his own.  Y/N watches as he brings it to his lips, inhaling as her wrist passes underneath his nose.  Although she’s not sure why, there’s something about seeing how much smaller her hand is in Harry’s that delights her.

Harry presses a soft kiss to her wrist, following it up with another on her palm.  Y/N’s eyelids flutter at the tender sensation.

“It’s my turn to touch you.” She says softly, her voice strained.

Harry hums in reply. “I know.” He kisses your wrist once more before looking at you. “I’ll help.”

Lifting his hand from his thigh (your hand, which was underneath, stays where it is), he pulls up his shirt just enough that he can sneak your hand underneath.  He rests it on his lower chest, and even though his shirt is still partially covering him, Y/N knows she’s touching his butterfly tattoo.

“I like to be touched here.” Harry says in the same low voice.

“Okay.” Y/N bites her lip, her head swimming with alcohol and the smell of the candles and Harry’s cologne and Harry. “It…would be easier without your shirt.”

Without breaking eye contact, save for the moment fabric covers him, Harry pulls his shirt over his head and tosses it to the side. “Better?”

Y/N’s eyes drift down to his tanned stomach.  His body is familiar and a stranger to her all at once.  She knows his tattoos, scars, every mark on his skin from a distance, but seeing it like this—touching it like this—makes her feel like she’s never truly seen him before.

“Better.” She manages to say, her hand brushing across his ribs.

Y/N spends a while exploring the planes of his stomach, the contours of his body.  When she gets to his v-lines, and runs her fingers over the ferns tattooed there, Harry shivers a bit, his hand gripping her knee tighter.

Y/N massages his thigh gently. “Alright?”

“Yeah.” Harry clears his throat. “I’m good.”

“Okay.” Y/N nods, but moves her hand further up again, over his chest and over his collar bones.  She takes a moment to trace the lines of his neck, feel the beat if his pulse underneath her fingers, and then tangles her fingers in his hair.  She uses the leverage to tilt his head back a bit, and presses her lips to the base of his neck.

Harry’s cologne smells better up close, and Y/N adores the heat of his skin on her sensitive lips. She presses small kisses over the curve of his neck, pausing over his jugular.  Her tongue darts out and she carefully licks along it before ending the motion with a kiss.

“Christ…” Harry exhales slowly, the tips of his fingers digging into her knee slightly.

Y/N knows they’re crossing the threshold of just touching each other for the sake of touching.  She can feel herself dripping in her panties, and when her eyes flicker down, she can see the outline of Harry’s half hard cock in his shorts.  Together, they’ve reached the border of friends helping each other out, and she’s certain that she wants to cross it with him.  However, she’s not sure if they should.

Pulling back enough to look Harry in the eyes, Y/N clears her throat. “H, we—what are we doing?”

Harry waits a moment to answer. “I…I don’t know.  I have no fucking clue.”

“This isn’t friendly anymore.” Y/N’s voice drops to a whisper. “It’s not just—it’s intimate, yeah, but it’s more…” Her eyes move to the outline of his hardening cock once more before looking back up at his face. “It’s more.”

“Yeah.  It’s more.” Harry moves his hand further up her thigh again, rubbing slow circles. “But I don’t want to stop.”

Y/N sucks in a breath. “You don’t?”

“It’s been so long since…” Harry trails off, his gaze drifting down to your lips before returning to your eyes. “And it’s you.  I’ve always wondered if—we—”

“I’ve wondered, too.” Y/N admits, her voice filled with nerves.  Are they really discussing this? “Especially since that day, in the bathroom—”

“I wondered if you looked then.” Harry’s voice drops lower (which Y/N didn’t think was possible). “I thought about it later that day.  I—fuck, I wanted you to look.”

A small noise escapes the back of Y/N’s throat. “This—we’ve been drinking, and—it’s the alcohol, H. Neither of us is thinking straight.”

“This isn’t the alcohol talking.  I’ve thought about—when we’re in the pool, when we cuddle, when we flirt, I—I can’t help it.” Harry closes his eyes for a brief moment, like he’s collecting himself. “I need you.  And I think…I think you need me too.”

“I do.  I need you.” Y/N touches his stubbled jaw with careful fingers. “But we’re friends.  This is going to change that.”

“We don’t know that.” Harry leans into her touch. “You said before that you wanted someone you’re comfortable with, something intimate, something breathless.  You and I are comfortable, and intimate, and—I don’t know.  All I know for sure is that I want you.”

Y/N isn’t sure if he means he wants her in a purely physical way or something more, and while she knows she should clarify that, all she can focus on is his voice and the way it’s going straight to her core.

“I want you, too.” She says simply.

Harry brings his hand to Y/N’s hip. “Can I kiss you?”

Y/N nods.  She’s not sure she’s capable of giving a verbal response.

Harry takes it upon himself to lean closer, his fingertips digging into Y/N’s skin in a way she adores. He pauses, hovering just above her lips for a moment, as if to give her time to pull away.  Instead, Y/N just waits in anticipation, delighting in the feeling of his breath running over her skin.

When he kisses her, Y/N tastes alcohol, mint, and what she swears is her own heart in the back of her throat.

Any previous kisses she’s shared with Harry have been half kisses, given in teenage games of truth or dare and in a friend’s parent’s basement.  Those kisses were safe, guarded, and an obligation.  This kiss is the exact opposite.

Although it starts chaste, it quickly grows more passionate.  Y/N can’t stop herself from tugging on Harry’s hair more than she imagines Harry can stop himself from rucking up the hem of her tank top.  His fingers dip under the band of her lace bralette as she nips at his lip, tugging slightly, delighted when a strangled sound echoes from the back of his throat.

Within minutes, Y/N’s allowed Harry to pull her to straddle his lap, his hands grabbing at her hips with a neediness she’s never seen him exhibit before.  Of course, she feels the same way, and she lets her hand run down his chest over and over, using her nails a little more each time.  Although there’s no one around to see, no party to return to, nowhere to go, Y/N wants to leave a mark.  She wants anyone who sees his chest to know that he belongs to her.

Harry breaks away from her, lips red, eyes frenzied, and breathing heavy. “Can I—?” His hands tug on the hem of her top, tugging in question.

Y/N lifts her arms in response, letting him pull it off and toss it to the side.  Harry moves back in to kiss her again, but she keeps her arms up, giving him a long look.

“You’re not done.” She says simply.

He understands right away, and his fingers find the band of her bralette again.  This time, however, he removes it slower, almost as if the removal is ritual itself, and his hands are less frantic when they return to your skin.

Harry looks at Y/Nu with wide eyes, and she understands the meaning in them: this is so much more than just touching, and so much more than two friends using each other for mutual pleasure.  With every touch, they further cross a line, and neither of them can stop.  

With this realization, Harry’s movements become more cautious.  His hands come to rest on her sides, his thumbs just brushing the side of her breast.

“You’re fine.” Y/N assures him in a soothing voice. “Keep going.”

“Are you fine?” He counters, his voice an equal mix of concern and need.

“H.” Y/N takes his hands in her own and places them over her breasts. “Like that.  Touch me like that.”

Harry sucks in a short breath as she manipulates his hands, showing him how to rub her and touch her. After a few moments, she lets her hands move to his neck, pulling him in for another kiss.

Y/N begins to grind against him, desperate for a bit of friction.  Their kisses are soon accented with their moans as they each pull the other closer in lust and need.

Still, underneath the physical desires, there’s a current running between them.  Y/N knows it’s been there for the last few weeks, humming quietly in the back of her mind, but being here, now, with Harry touching her, it’s come alive like an electric fence.  She can’t turn it off, and she doesn’t want to.  She doesn’t want to in the slightest.

Harry begins to kiss down her neck like before, but this time his kisses are anything but chaste. When he reaches her breast, he kisses around them before taking one of her nipples into his mouth.

“Oh fuck—” Y/N arches her back, fingers tangling in his hair to pull him closer. “Harry…”

He hums against her, and his spare hand rubs her back like he does when they get ready to sleep.  Usually, the motion is calming, but right now, Y/N feels anything but calm.

Harry continues until he’s satisfied with his work, and then he kisses his way to her other breast, wrapping his lips against her other nipple.  He spends just as much time on that one, letting his teeth graze it ever so slightly before soothing the action with his tongue.

When he pulls back, there’s a little line of spit connecting Harry’s mouth to her nipple, and Y/N whimpers at the sight.

“H…” She runs her finger through the line before gripping his chin with her thumb and forefinger.  The need inside her builds, as does her fondness for the man in front of her. “God…”

Harry tweaks her hard nipple with his finger, gentle enough so as not to hurt her, but enough to make a gasp fall from her mouth.  He offers no response in the form of words, but the hungry look in his eyes has only increased.

“Let me…” Y/N climbs off of his lap, gently pushing him to lay back on the bed. “Yeah?”

Harry runs a hand through his messy curls, nodding quickly. “You want that?”

“Yeah.” Y/N nods too, pressing a wet kiss to his swollen lips. “So bad.  Yeah.”

Her hands move to the waistband of his shorts, and Harry lifts his hips off the bed.  Y/N tugs down his boxers in the same movement, and tosses both articles of clothing to the side before looking back at him.

Harry’s cock is just as beautiful as she remembers it being the morning she accidentally walked in on him. Even more so, she thinks, because now he’s hard, and the head is the most appetizing shade of pink, with drops of precum pearling at the top.  When Y/N wraps her hand around his girth, she adores the heat that she feels.  

“So pretty…” She says the words almost to herself, and strokes him lightly to get used to the feeling of him in her hand. “I just want to…”

Y/N leans down and flicks her tongue over his tip, collecting the precum gathered there.  In return, a strangled moan leaves Harry’s throat as his arm moves to cover his eyes for a moment.

Y/N presses a kiss to the head of his cock before she continues licking, reveling in the sounds Harry makes.  She had no doubt, with a voice as angelic as his, that his moans and whines and whimpers would be just as beautiful.

When she wraps her lips around the head and sucks, she feels Harry’s hand move to her hair.  She looks up at him without lifting off of his cock, staring him in the eye as she takes more and more of him into her mouth.

“Fuck—” Another moan leaves Harry’s lips, more strained than the last. “That’s it…” He tugs on her hair, but doesn’t push her down.  Even when lost in pleasure, he’s careful with her.

Y/N loves him for it.

Pacing herself, she takes more and more of him into her mouth until her nose is pressed to the base of his stomach, brushing against his (neatly trimmed) pubic hair.  She stays down for just a moment before pulling up completely to breathe, but keeps her hand on him, stroking him slowly.

“You look so good.” Harry mutters, running his hands over her hair in a soothing motion. “I imagined it, but didn’t think…so much better…”

Y/N moves to push her head back down, but Harry stops her, bringing her up for a kiss instead.

“I want to taste you, now.” He tells her, laying her down on the pillows. “Is that alright?”

Y/N nods desperately, feeling even more heat rush to her core and pool there. “Mhmm.”

Harry kisses his way down her body again, slipping his fingers into the waistband of her shorts. He leaves her panties on as he pulls the shorts down, and lets out a low groan at the sight of her pink Calvin Klein panties, and more specifically, the dark pink spot that’s apparent on them.

“You’re soaked…” He presses a kiss to her sensitive inner thigh before brushing a finger over the wet spot.

Y/N jumps a bit, making a sound in the back of her throat. “Harry!”

“Sorry.” He kisses her thigh again. “I’m sorry.  Just relax, yeah?  It’s just me. I got you.”

Harry continues to kiss along her inner thighs, moving closer and closer to the thin cloth covering her center.  When he presses his first kiss to the fabric, Y/N grasps the sheets in her hands.

“God…” She whispers, fists clenched.

Harry reaches up and takes one of her hands, placing it in his hair wordlessly before kissing over her again, his tongue peaking out just a bit.

The torture continues for what feels like forever, with Harry teasing her over the soaked fabric of her panties.  Finally, Y/N sighs in relief as she feels his hands grip the fabric, and she lifts her hips eagerly as he tugs the article of clothing down.

The first thing she feels is his hot breath hitting her core, which is enough to make her legs reflexively close with pleasure.  Harry’s hand grips her leg, pushing them back open as he takes in the sight of her dripping cunt before him.

“Fuck…” He inhales deeply, committing her scent to memory. “Your pussy is so gorgeous.”

Y/N whimpers at his words and tugs on his curls. “Please, H…I need you.”

“Need me?” Harry asks in a husky voice, his finger touching her outer lips just barely.

“Yes!” Y/N whines, not caring how she sounds. “Never needed anything more…”

Harry runs his finger over her slit, collecting the wetness dripping from her.  YN moans loudly at the contact, not fully relieved but grateful for the light touch.

“So fucking wet.” Harry’s voice sounds not completely his own. “Fuck, Y/N, how are you so wet?”

Y/N feels heat rush to her cheeks, and she mumbles her reply in what’s almost an embarrassed voice. “You know exactly how.”

“Don’t even know what to do first.” Harry ignores her reply, lost in his own world as he continues stroking her slit. “Just want…”

He presses into her without warning, and Y/N arches her back off the bed as Harry’s finger slips into her cunt.  His cold rings touch the top of her entrance as Harry pauses inside her, his eyes heavy with lust.

“And so tight.” He moans, biting his lip hard enough to leave a mark. “Oh my God…”

He curves his finger inside her, wanting to feel every inch of her that he can.  Y/N continues to whimper above him.

“More.” She begs him, pushing back against his finger. “I can take more, Harry, please.”

Harry easily slips enough finger in, repeating his motion as she pushes back on him.  However, the pressure building inside Y/N disappears abruptly as his fingers do, and she’s just about to get angry at him when she feels his tongue replace his fingers.

“Fuck!” She exclaims loudly, her eyes closing as she throws her head back. “Harry—!”

Harry moves his tongue in and out of her, loving the taste of her juices in his mouth.  He moves further up to her clit, licking and sucking over the sensitive bundle of nerves as Y/N writhes above him.

“Taste so good.” He growls from between her thighs. “Fuck, Y/N…you’re going to cum for me, yeah?” He asks as he reaches up and grips her hands in his, interlocking their fingers. “Tell me you’re going to cum for me.”

Another strangled moan leaves Y/N’s mouth as he speaks. “I-I’m so close, Harry. Keep going, please.”

“Tell me.” He demands, licking over her clit again. “Tell me you’re going to cum for me.”

Y/N grinds against his tongue as she grips his hands tighter. “I’m going—fuck—I’m going to cum for you, H.  I’m going—”

Harry sucks hard on her clit, and Y/N throws her head back as an orgasm hits her harder than ever before.  Her thighs clench shut, trapping Harry’s head between them, but he just continues to lap at the juices flowing from her cunt while making the most obscene sounds Y/N has ever heard.

Harry doesn’t pull back until Y/N unclenches her thighs, and before he does, he presses one last kiss to her clit, making her flinch.  

Y/N is so exhausted she can barely open her eyes.  Once she does, however, and sees Harry, she feels all the exhaustion fade.

Harry’s lips are, somehow, even more red than before, and his whole chin is slick with her wetness.  He keeps licking his lips, like he can’t get enough of the taste, and Y/N feels like her whole body is on fire.

“Harry…” She whispers, squeezing his hand again.  She doesn’t know what else to say.

Harry lifts himself over her body, which is still shaking from her orgasm, and kisses her gently.  She can taste herself on his mouth, and she adores it.

“You taste so fucking good.” He murmurs, pressing his sweaty forehead against hers. “Like candy.”

Y/N swallows hard. “I haven’t—no one’s done that in a long time.”

“I’ll be glad to do it again.” Harry replies, brushing her hair back. “But right now…all I want to do is make love to you.” He looks at her with sincere eyes. “Will you let me?”

The tenderness of him asking almost brings tears to her eyes, and Y/N nods, her hands coming up to cup his rosy cheeks. “Yeah, H.  I’m…” She bites her lip as she realizes the truth of her words. “I’m yours.  Always.”

Harry inhales sharply before kissing her softly, his hands stroking her hair in a comforting fashion again. “How do you want to…?”

“I want you on top.” Y/N replies, touching his swallow tattoos. “I-I want to feel you.  Feel your weight.  Feel you close.”

With a nod, Harry positions himself over her, spreading her legs wide enough that his body can fit between.  He holds himself up with one hand and uses the other to guide his cock to Y/N’s folds, just brushing the head over them.  He’s teasing himself just as much as her.

“Harry…” Y/N leans her head back at the sensation. “Please, H…”

“I don’t—wait—” Harry pauses his movements, and Y/N can see on his face the strength and discipline it takes for him to do so. “I—a condom—”

“I’m clean, and I have an IUD.” Y/N assures him, running her hand along his shoulders. “Are you?”

Harry nods. “Yeah, I am, but—are you sure?”

As Y/N looks into his eyes, the love and concern and want written all over them, she knows she’s never been more sure of anything in her life. “I want to feel you, without anything in between.  I—” She takes a deep breath and presses a kiss to his jaw. “Yeah.  I’m sure.”

Harry presses a kiss to her forehead, and the tender action makes Y/N close her eyes as she revels in the feeling.  A moment later, Harry moves down again and puts his forehead against hers as he pushes into her.

The moment he enters her, Y/N feels a fullness she’s never experienced before.  Not only is Harry stretching her cunt in a way that feels euphoric, but she feels complete.  He’s as close to her as he’s ever been, his breath is mingling with hers, his body weight is held over her carefully, and Y/N thinks she could die in the pleasure of this moment happily.

“Y/N…baby…” The pet name seems to fall easily from Harry’s lips as he bottoms out, holding himself still to adjust to the feeling. “Oh my God…”

Y/N digs her fingernails into Harry’s shoulders, pressing kisses to his lips between gasps for breath. “Move, H, please.”

Harry begins to thrust his hips, setting a slow but deep pace before gradually speeding up.  While part of Y/N wishes he would thrust as fast as he can, a deeper part of her is grateful that Harry is taking his time with her.  This feeling, now that she has it, is better than anything she’d ever felt before, and Y/N doesn’t want it to end anytime soon.

Harry kisses Y/N again as he moves inside her.  Although they’re as close as they’ve ever been, each of them keeps pulling the other closer.  As Harry thrusts deeper, Y/N pulls more of his weight down on her.  As Y/N scratches her nails down his back, Harry kisses her jaw. Neither of them can process exactly what they’re doing, but neither of them can stop.  Each touch is tender, each kiss is passionate, and each moment brings them closer together in so many more ways than just physical.

They don’t speak except for the occasional whisper from Y/N for Harry to move faster, or the occasional moan of Y/N’s name falling from Harry’s lips. The only constant sounds in the room are of the slickness between Y/N’s thighs as Harry moves between them, the sound of his skin meeting hers, both of them panting and moaning, and a few whispers of “please” that are barely audible.  Despite the lack of speech, however, the two are in constant communication.  Kissing, biting, scratching, and squeezing have become the vocabulary of their new language.  When Harry looks into Y/N’s wet eyes, he knows that she feels something running through the very depths of her being.  When Y/N feels Harry tuck his head between her neck and her shoulder as he whimpers, she knows that he trusts her to comfort him and hold him there.

Soon, Y/N feels the waves of pleasure begin to build, and she knows that when they finally break, they’ll pull her under. “H, I—fuck—I—” She can’t manage to form the sentence she needs to.

Harry, however, can tell exactly what she’s going to say. “Please.” He pants, adoring how she buries her head into his shoulder. “Please, love, cum for me…” He kisses over the shell of her ear as he thrusts deeper. “Need you.”

Y/N whimpers, biting down on Harry’s shoulder as her orgasm rolls over her. Harry feels her walls tighten around his cock, but he doesn’t slow down, and he works her through her climax until she whines in his ear.

“So good, H…” Y/N can barely find the strength to whisper the phrase.

Hearing her sound so fucked out, feeling her cunt squeezing him, and seeing the euphoria on her face is enough to bring Harry to the edge.  He slows his thrusts, about to pull out, but Y/N presses on his back to keep him close.

Harry groans as a shiver rolls through his body. “I’m about to cum, Y/N—”

“Stay inside me.” She pleads, pressing the pads of her fingers between his shoulder blades. “I-I’m yours, Harry, I told you.  Yours.”

Y/N looks up at him with such trusting and vulnerable eyes that Harry can’t make himself argue with her.  He nods instead, his thrusts increasing in speed again until he feels himself reach the edge of pleasure.  

As he freefalls into Y/N, his hips stutter, and he presses deep inside her while her name falls from his lips over and over again.  He can’t think of anything else to say.  He can’t think of anything else worth saying.

When Harry finally manages to pull himself together enough to pull out, Y/N instantly feels the emptiness inside her.  She wishes he would stay, but knows that it’s not practical, and instead just relishes in the feeling of his cum dripping from her entrance.  It’s like he’s claimed her as his, left a physical mark of himself, and Y/N doesn’t have the strength to stop herself from loving it.

They lay in silence for a few moments, trying to catch their breath and regain a sense of where they are.  Both Harry and Y/N are sweaty, exhausted, and covered in each other in more ways than one.  The wrap on Harry’s tattoo has slipped from his arm.  Somewhere in their pleasure, Y/N has lost an earring.  And yet, the only thing each of them cares about is looking at the other.

Out of instinct, Harry pulls Y/N’s shivering body into his, wrapping his arms around her tightly.  He can’t imagine she’s cold, and Y/N can’t bring herself to tell him she’s shivering because of the feeling of being so close to him, but neither of them denies the other of the affectionate gesture.

Y/N loses track of how long they lay there until Harry breaks the silence.

“I—” His voice cracks, and he clears it quickly before trying again. “I’ll get you a cloth to—to clean you up.”

Y/N nods, and Harry gently untangles himself from her before going to the bathroom.  Y/N can hear the running of water, and turns her head to see what he’s doing, but when she spots his naked silhouette, she closes her eyes.  Despite what they just did, there’s a shyness in her still when she sees him completely stripped.

Her eyes stay closed, and she only detects his return from feeling his weight return to the bed.  He places a gentle hand on her trembling knee, pulling her open ever so slightly.

“’M just cleaning you up.” Harry says in a quiet tone. “Is that okay?”

Y/N nods again.  She’s not certain she has enough strength to say anything.

Harry wipes between her legs with a gentle touch, watching how she flinches at the slightest of pressure. “I’m sorry.” He says sincerely, kissing her knee tenderly before continuing. “You’re sensitive, I know.  Almost done.”

Once he finishes wiping away the cum dripping out of her (his cum dripping out of her), Harry tosses the cloth onto his pile of clothes on the ground, deciding it can be dealt with later.  His most pressing concern at the moment is Y/N.

He lays back down on his side so he can face her, and pushes a lock of hair away from her closed eyes.

“Y/N.” Harry murmurs, hand resting on her waist carefully. “Talk to me. Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” Her voice is rough when she answers, and Harry can hear the echo of her moans in her words. “I-I’m fine, H.  Just…tired.”

“Do you…” Harry bites his lip. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Y/N gives a slight shake of her head. “Maybe—maybe tomorrow, yeah?” She does her best to open one eye, but quickly shuts it again when she sees how Harry is looking at her. “Can’t right now.”

“Okay.” Harry lays his arm over her side as he moves closer. “Tomorrow.”

Y/N presses her head into his shoulder and commits the scent of his skin to memory.

…

The first thing Y/N registers when she wakes up is the feeling of someone touching her hair.

She doesn’t need to open her eyes to know it’s Harry.  Of course it’s Harry.  It’s always been Harry.  In every way.

Y/N sighs and readjusts her position in bed, moving a bit closer to Harry.  She shivers once from the cold, still naked from last night’s activities, and that’s the only hint Harry needs before he pulls the sheet up around her more.

“Are you awake?” He asks softly, careful in case she’s still lost deep in sleep.

Y/N moves her head in a passable nodding motion, and her voice is thick with sleep when she answers. “Mhmm.  Barely.”

A low chuckle escapes from Harry’s mouth, and the next thing Y/N feels are his warm lips against her cheek. “How are you feeling?”

“A little hungover.  A little sore.” Y/N finally opens her eyes as she speaks, and almost wishes she hadn’t.

Harry’s hair is a mess from both sex and sleep, messy and wild and haphazardly pushed out of his eyes. His cheeks are flushed, and his neck and chest are covered in marks from both Y/N’s lips and fingers.  She knows that if he turned over, his back would be the same, and it embarrasses her and delights her at the same time.  He looks completely fucked and content, and more relaxed than she’s seen him in ages.

Y/N wonders if she looks the same.  If she looks as pretty.

“Sorry.” Harry says, his tone a bit sheepish.

“It’s not your fault.” Y/N replies, shrugging a bit.

“Well…it is, actually.  I made your drinks.  And I…” He trails off, brushing his fingers down her bare hip to her thigh.

“Yeah.” Y/N feels her face get warm. “I guess it is your fault.”

Harry laughs lightly, but it fades away as he looks into her eyes. “We, uh…we should probably talk about what happened.”

Y/N purses her lips. “Yeah. We should.”

“So…first question, I guess.” Harry props his head up on his arm, but keeps running his fingers over Y/N’s hip gently. “Do you regret it?”

Y/N sits up a bit more in bed, clutching the sheet to her bare chest. “No.  I don’t.  Do you?”

“No.” Harry replies instantly. “I don’t regret it.”

“Okay.” Y/N is so aware of Harry’s eyes on her as she thinks of her question. “Did…did you enjoy it?”

A snort falls from Harry’s mouth, and he shakes his head incredulously. “Christ, Y/N, of course I enjoyed it.  It felt—you felt like heaven.”

Y/N flushes at the comment. “I’ve never…I’ve always made my partners wear condoms.  So that was a first for me.”

Harry’s fingers pause over her hip, but only for a moment.  It looks as though he’s deciding whether or not he should comment on that, but changes his mind at the last moment. “Did you enjoy it?” He asks instead, echoing your question.

“I did.”

“You said you were mine.”

Y/N swallows hard. This conversation is less incriminating than making love to him last night, but it seems infinitely more powerful. Probably because they’re both sober, she thinks.

“That—” She clears her throat. “That’s not a question.”

Harry sighs, but there’s an endeared smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “You said you were mine. Did you mean that?”

Y/N can’t look him in the eyes, so she looks down instead.  Harry’s hand lies between them, and she intertwines their fingers, playing with his rings as she carefully formulates her answer. “I’ve—I’ve always been yours, H.  Ever since we were kids, I’ve belonged to you.” She runs a finger over his H ring. “Even when you were gone.”

Harry frowns a bit at the tone of her voice. “I’ve been yours too, Y/N.  I belong to you just as much as you belong to me.”

“You’ve always been further out of reach.” Y/N pulls her hand from his, until their fingertips are just barely touching. “Always just…a little out of reach.”

Harry intertwines their fingers again. “I’m not out of reach.  Not right now.  And I’ve never—if you ever called me and said you needed me, I would’ve been on the first flight back home to you.  I would’ve dropped everything for you, Y/N.  I still would, and I always will.”

Tears prick Y/N’s eyes, and although she hurries to close them, one slips out.  Harry catches it on his finger before it can run off her cheek, and when she looks at him again, there’s a concerned look on his face.

“C’mere.” Harry mumbles, pulling Y/N into a tight hug.  He rubs her back like he always does, and the motion is so comforting that she almost forgets the vulnerable position they’re both in. “You’re my girl.  You’re always going to be my girl.” He murmurs in her ear, voice low and soothing. “Always.  Don’t you know that?”

Y/N nods, not trusting her voice at the moment.

“If this is too much for you…” Harry traces his fingers between her shoulder blades.  Y/N thinks he’s tracing words, like they used to as children, but she can’t tell what words he may be tracing. “I understand. We can just—we can pretend it didn’t happen.”

“I—” Y/N shakes her head, looking up at Harry. “I don’t want to do that.”

“Then what do you want, Y/N?” Harry asks, his tone as pleading as it was last night. “All I’ve ever tried to do is give you what you want, and usually I’m pretty good at telling what that is, but right now, I’m lost.  I don’t want things to go back to how they were, but I don’t—I can’t lose you, so just—if you just tell me what you want, I’ll do it.  I’ll make it work.  I promise that I won’t be mad, or hurt, or anything.”

Y/N sits up as best she can, her fingers combing through Harry’s messy curls on reflex, as she always does it when he gets upset. “I can’t pretend that I don’t want you, H.  I do.  I need you.  I told you that last night.”

“But you’re crying.” Harry cups her wet cheek gently, rubbing his thumb along her cheekbone. “I hate that.”

Y/N leans into his touch. “It just feels…strange.” She says after a moment. “All of this.  I spent so long trying to stop myself from thinking of you like this, and now that I am, I feel like—like it’s wrong.”

Harry tugs on his bottom lip with his teeth. “Does it feel wrong?”

His low voice makes her shiver. “No.  It feels right.  Really right.”

“I feel like…” Harry’s eyes flicker between Y/N’s own eyes and their intertwined hands. “I feel like we’re both dancing around saying it.”

Y/N sucks in a breath. “Saying what?”

“Saying…” Harry leans in and presses a soft kiss to her lips. “Saying that we’re in love with each other.”

Y/N feels breathless at the words coming from his mouth. “You’re in love with me?”

“Are you not in love with me?” He replies, moving so he’s leaning over her more. “We’ve said I love you so many times before.”

“That’s a different kind of love.” Y/N mumbles, touching the chain dangling from Harry’s neck.

“But we were both meaning something different when we were saying it.  At least, I was.” Harry inhales deeply, like he’s centering himself. “I’ve known…for a while, but I’ve felt it for longer than I’ve known it. And I thought that you might…”

“I think I do.” Y/N whispers. “But saying it feels so—so permanent.  Like we can’t go back to being friends if it blows up in our faces.”

Harry traces a finger down Y/N’s cheek, her neck, between her breasts, to her side, touching just below her ribs. “Maybe we can’t.  But I don’t think we’ll want to, Y/N.  I think we’re perfect for each other.”

Y/N’s heart pounds in her chest. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Harry nods. “This last month, it’s been like we’ve been…playing house, or something.  I’ve loved it.  I keep hearing from friends saying that they’re so sick of the person they’re living with, so tired of them, but I’ve never felt that way about you, and I don’t think I ever will.  I’ll never get sick of you.”

Y/N laughs a bit. “That’s romantic.”

“Shut up.” Harry can’t help but smile slightly. “It is romantic.”

“Yeah.  It is.” Y/N says softly, her hand rubbing over Harry’s tattooed arm. “You’re really in love with me?”

Harry nods. “I am.”

“Huh.” Y/N bites her lip. “So I guess we’ve been lying to our moms, haven’t we?”

Harry laughs loudly, collapsing on the bed next to Y/N. “Jesus, can you not mention our mums when we’re naked in bed?”

“I’m just saying!  We’ve been saying for years that you’re not in love with me, and it’s all been a lie.”

“What about when they ask if you’re in love with me?” Harry’s tone is joking, but there’s a hint of nervousness in the back of his voice. “Has that been a lie, too?”

Y/N’s heart pounds as she nods. “Yeah.  We’ll have to get them something really good for Mother’s Day this year to help make up for it.”

A grin spreads over Harry’s face, almost triumphant, as he leans down to kiss her. “Agreed.” He moves to cage himself over Y/N. “But I want to hear you say it.”

“Say what?”

“I want to hear you say that you’re in love with me.” Harry’s grin turns into a smirk.

Y/N flushes as she shakes her head. “You say it first.”

“I’ve already admitted it!”

“So have I!”

“Not as well as I have!”

“Oh, so it’s a competition now?” Y/N scoffs. “What a wonderful start to our relationship.”

“I’m just saying, Y/N, admitting it is the first step to—”

“Are you seriously going to say that to get me to say that I love you?”

“Just—”

“You’re so irritating—”

“I’m irritating?  You—”

“You’re the worst!”

“And yet you’re in my bed with no clothes on!”

“Okay.  Nope.  Relationship over.” Y/N pushes Harry off of her and wraps the sheet around herself as she gets out of bed. “You blew it, Styles.”

“Y/N.” Laughter falls from Harry’s lips as he leans over the edge of the bed. “Love.  Come back to bed.”

“I think a minute and thirty-seven seconds may be the record for the world’s shortest relationship.” Y/N searches her bag for some clean clothes.

“Come here!”

“Another world record for Harry Styles.” Y/N calls to him without turning around. “You must be so proud—”

Her words are cut off in a shriek as Harry picks her up, throwing her over his shoulder as he brings her back to his bed.

“Harry!” She yells, hitting his arm. “Put me down!”

Harry tosses her on the bed, gentle enough so as not to hurt her, and cages himself over her sheet-covered body.  He’s still completely bare. “Take it back.”

Y/N rolls her eyes. “Fine. We’re still together.  One less record for you.”

“Good.  Now…” Harry brushes a finger over her lips. “Say you’re in love with me.”

Y/N’s laughter fades a bit as the nerves set back in. “I…”

“Please, Y/N?” Harry murmurs, leaning down to kiss her neck. “Please say it.”

“I’m—” Y/N sucks in a quick breath, and all of her protest leaves her body as she exhales. “I’m in love with you, Harry.”

She can feel Harry’s lips forming a grin against her neck. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Y/N tugs on his hair gently, just enough so she can pull his head back to look in his eyes. “Now you say it.”

“Y/N.” Harry says her name like it’s something precious. “I’m in love with you.”

A flush of pleasure crawls up Y/N’s spine at his words, but she does her best to keep her tone light-hearted. “So are you calling our moms, or am I?”

“I’ll do it.” Harry reaches for his phone on the bedside table. “And I’ll be sure to mention how it took us getting drunk and having sex to realize—”

“Harry!”

“Don’t worry, I’ll tell your mum we used a condom—”

“I’ll kill you, Styles, and I’ll make it look like an accident.” Y/N shoves his shoulder hard.

Harry grins at her. “Now that’s romantic.”

[eurazba]

Image id: A screenshot of a discord message with no paragraph breaks, just a wall of words from Squiddo reading:

It was a dark and stormy night when I decided to start the among us 10 hour challenge. I saw a post that said "why the fuck do people make 10 hour extensions of songs nobody ever listens for that long" so I decided to listen for that long. My friends who all live in america were awake at this tepid hour of 10PM on a wednesday, so I hopped in the vc with them. "I'm thinking of doing this challenge", I said, "where I listen to the among us imposter remix for 10 hours". Before I could gauge their response, I queued the music in the cc, and began my decent. For some ungodly reason, about an hour or so in, one of my friends chipped in that they were bored of the Among Us Imposter Trap Remix, so they queued the Gummy Bear Song (english) for 10 hours in stead. Unbeknownst to me, my friends were all conspiring- it was around midnight, and they had all been listening to absolutely nothing. Yes, that's right- while I had thought that they were my commerades in my effort to withstand 10 hours of gummy bear among us at the same time, they actually the bots muted the entire time. Their true goal, in fact, just to torture me. It was also around this time that my parents headed to bed, meaning that the downstairs of my house was now off limits. In this moment, I was struck with the gut-wrenching realization that I had not a single drop of water in my bottle. Not a smidgen. I was left stunned, in the realization that I would have to complete this entire challenge completely parched. My tongue began to dry at the mere thought. How could I do this? Has anyone ever done this before? I decided not to dwell on it. After all, there was still more than seven hours left. As the night grew late for my American friends, we decided a great way to pass the time would be to watch long video essays on YouTube, in the hopes that it would distract us from the concoction of dreadful noises blasting in our (my) ears. Firstly, was the defunctland video about the Disney Fast Pass. Bad idea. At first, we were laughing, joking- what a funny video! An hour and a half about the Disney Fast Pass? What is there even to say? But around half an hour, one of us began to crack. Snap, even. "The disney fast pass"- Defunctland said, again. "Holy shit stop saying fast pass" the most reserved of my companions quipped. "Right? he keeps fucking saying it it's not even like a word to me any more" another adds. Twenty more minutes pass. we have been watching a video about the Disney Fast Pass for about 50 minutes now. There's still another 50 left. It's at this time the realization dawns on me, that listening to a man I have never met prattle on about the logistics of queuing at Disney Land, is somehow making me feel more distraught than the gummy bear among us music is. I am still, at this time, blissfully unaware that my friends are not listening with me. I am completely alone. As the night goes on, I begin to forget that I actually exist. The clock reads 01:00. How many Hours are left? the music is coming from Discord bots. I can't check. The disney fast pass video drags to an end, and the five of us are left laughing in despair and agony at how long we have sat listening to that damn man say the same words over, and over. "What a joke", crosses my mind. "I've been listening to the same song over and over for at least 3 hours now". My friend loads another video essay. My eyes begin to blur. I have not tasted the sweet, refreshing flavour of pure water for maybe 10 hours now. I briefly wonder if this might not be healthy. The video essay continues. It's something about a science scandal. The man's name is Herbert Cromer. This is the very last piece of information my brain can cache, before the entire night becomes a deprived blur. my brain doesn't even register the music anymore. It's not music to me- tuned out like tinnitus, I worry I might have turned off the music, I blink. It's 8AM. The gummy bear stopped playing 3 hours ago.

A reply under the wall of text from Ashwag reading "HUH" in all caps.

[dollslayer]

Botanical Interest - Thorns

Soft!Mob!Steve Rogers x reader

Summary: After dating the notable mobster Steve Rogers for a couple months you think you’ve got him figured out. An altercation in an alley leaves you questioning whether or not that’s true. 

W/C: 1995

Warnings: Violence, angst, fluff, swearing

A/N: Holy smokes! I am completely overwhelmed by the love that the first part to this story has received. Obviously, I couldn’t help myself so I wrote a part 2 also as an entry for @stargazingfangirl18 ‘s 5k soft dark challenge! Using the Mob!Au and the dialogue prompt “Oh, Honey, you weren’t supposed to see that”.

If you want you can check out part one here and my other mob fic here! Cheers!

Botanical Interest Masterlist I Main Masterlist

______________________________ 6pm was fast approaching as you began to close up shop for the day. Steve was here to pick you up for dinner and much to your embarrassment walked in on you having a very difficult conversation argument with a very difficult customer over pricing and promotion. Having run your small business on your own for years you knew how to hold your own but you completely froze when you saw Steve enter the shop out of the corner of your eye. 

“I- listen Mr. Andersen, I appreciate all the business that your venues have given me but I can’t afford a raise in advertising prices right now. I’ve been reliable and trustworthy and I’ve always treated your venues with respect. I’ve never been an issue for you, please don’t raise the rate. Wedding season is coming up and I need the exposure.” 

You tried to bargain with him quietly, hoping the music overhead would prevent Steve from hearing but it was a low volume and a small shop. You’ve only been dating for a couple months. You didn’t want to embarrass yourself in front of him, especially not at work. 

Mr. Andersen exhaled sharply. You could tell he was annoyed at you for the pushback. “Look, I’m sorry but we can’t be making exceptions every time a business owner comes groveling.” 

Tears stung your eyes, you really did generate a lot of business through Andersen’s venues. They listed you as one of their recommended vendors to their clients, it’s been huge for you. Knowing that Steve was there made this even worse. “If I’d have known you were going to cry like this I would’ve just done it over email I mean really-”

“That’s enough.” Steve cut him off before he could humiliate you any further. He sent a quick text and shoved his phone back in his pocket before pulling himself to his gull height and squaring his shoulders. “You’ve done enough, now get out.”

A scoff from Andersen and a harsh glare directed towards you and he was on his way out of the building. Steve’s phone vibrated but he didn’t check it. Instead he walked over to you and extended his arm to rub your back. 

“Are you okay? That guy was a total fucking prick to you, you don’t deserve that.” Steve consoled you. He seemed calmer than you expected for having just witnessed something like that. You’ve seen him agitated but never upset. Maybe he was restraining himself for you but it didn’t matter, you appreciate him being there for you. 

“I’m fine, I just need to finish closing up shop and we can get to dinner. Just give me a minute” you said as you began to sweep up. 

“Alright, sweetheart. I’m double parked so I’m gonna go to the car and try to find a space.” You nodded as hummed along to the music. 

____________________________

As Steve left the shop he pulled his phone out and checked his text from Thor ‘we got him’. When Steve heard that man talk to you like that he knew you didn’t want him to threaten Andersen and make the situation worse. You were already on the verge of tears so he decided to ask one of his men to hold Andersen out back where he could have a few words with him. 

Stepping around the corner into the alley behind your shop he took off his jacket and rolled up his sleeves. He needed to be quick so you wouldn’t find out. He didn’t want to upset you further, he just wanted this guy to know that you can’t treat his girl like that. And maybe he could be talked into giving her the advertising for free.

“So you think you can talk to my girl like that huh?” He questioned. Andersen looked like Thor had already punched him once in the process of restraining him. Thor’s hold on Andersen’s arms tightened. 

Andersen was scared, but not scared enough to Steve’s liking. Before Andersen had the opportunity to answer Steve cocked his fist back and launched it directly to Andersen’s jaw. “Shit! I’m sorry, I didn’t know. We’re expanding and we need the money so I have to raise-”

Before the excuse could be finished Steve hit him again. “Stop! Please!” Andersen begged.

Steve chuckled. “No I don’t think I will. I can’t just let people go every time they grovel to me. They’d never learn.” Another punch landed. 

“You’re not gonna raise your prices for her. In fact, you’re gonna call her up in a couple days and apologize by offering her advertising free of charge for all of your venues. Do you understand?” Steve asked coolly. 

Andersen coughed up some blood. “I- I can offer her half price but I can’t just waive the cost like that!”

“Not good enough.” Steve punched him even harder, Andersen was nearly knocked out. Steve thought about the tears that slipped from his girl’s eye and couldn’t stop himself. He struck Andersen one more time with a growl and his head hung limp between his shoulders. Just then he heard the sound of shattering glass behind him and froze, hand still in a fist. 

_____________________________________

Finally done with most of your tasks all you had to do was take out the garbage and empty the vase of leftover stems from bouquets into the dumpster. You opened the back door just in time to see Steve land a brutal punch to Mr. Andersen’s cheekbone. Mr. Andersen’s head fell and it was clear he had been knocked out cold. 

You hadn’t even realized you’d dropped the vase until you felt the shards fall around your feet. You couldn’t look away when Steve looked up at you with wild eyes, you’d never seen him so angry. You felt the way you did the day you met him. Nervous and frozen in place.

His face instantly fell and through his heavy breathing said “Oh, honey, you weren’t supposed to see that.” He was trying to relax his features as he approached you but you could only take steps back and into the shop like a scared animal being cornered. 

Your heart was hammering in your chest and you couldn’t tell if you were more angry or scared. You held your hands out in front of you and stammered “I’d better.. I need to lock up shop I’ll um, I’ll go”. “Sweetheart wait!” Too late. You shut the back door and locked it behind you. 

You went to your back office and sat down, not even sure where to go from here with this. You two had talked about his work a bit, it wasn’t like it could be avoided forever, you just didn’t think he’d bring it into yours. You weren’t scared of Steve doing something like that to you, you were scared of that look in his eyes. His capability of doing something like that with little thought.

Oh, God, what does this mean for the shop? Mr. Andersen will have you blacklisted. He’ll tell every wedding planner in Brooklyn. Now your heart was hammering for a whole other set of reasons. Too busy spiraling as you thought about it all you didn’t hear the bell of the front door ring. 

A knock on your open office door pulled you out of it and you looked up to find Steve. He wore what looked like a truly regretful expression on his face. You fought the urge to yell at him. You’re an adult, you’re going to talk about this like adults. Let him say his piece. 

He had straightened up, his hands were clean and his jacket was back on. He gave a heavy sigh. “Sweetheart, I don’t even know where to begin. I’m sorry you had to see that side of me, but I want you to know I would never ever do anything like that to you or anyone close to you. I only want what’s best for you.”

“And that’s punching one of my main sources of income?” You snapped. You appreciated the apology but you were getting too worked up in anger thinking about the future of the shop.

He was a little miffed at the outburst and became defensive. “That man disrespected you, disrespected your work. No one talks like that to my girl. That’s how we settle things in my world!” 

“Well you’re not in your mob world right now you’re in mine! And things don’t get handled like that! Do you have any idea the toll that could take on my business? He’s gonna have me blacklisted by the end of the day if he wakes up.” The last words came out a bit broken as you felt more tears build. You were more worried about the business than anything. 

Steve walked around the desk to console you just like he had not twenty minutes ago. He gently put a hand on your forearm. “You’re right. It’s not my world, it wasn’t my call to make and I had no right to react like that. I didn’t even think about that. The way he was talking to you, I just.. I got so mad. You work so hard and you don’t deserve that. Sometimes I forget there’s more than one way to handle things.”

Okay, that went better than expected. This is what made Steve so interesting to you. Steve was funny and sweet and charming as hell, but beyond all that there was this tender heart. He was dangerous but he was also fiercely loyal. He was more than a mobster and he was better than the brute force he used. It’s why you were able to accept that part of him, because it wasn’t his entire life, it didn’t consume him.

“Thank you for saying that,” You said quietly. You looked up to him and could tell that he really did feel bad. “I accept your apology and I appreciate it. But you have to make things right with Mr. Andersen. I’ll pay the new rate but you have to apologize before it’s too late.”

_________________________

Steve was beginning to harbor resentment towards himself for fucking this up for you. Andersen just made him see red, he has such a hard time shutting that part of himself down. You work so hard and care so much there’s just no way he could let that stand. He just hoped to work through it and move on. He really didn’t wanna screw it up.

Steve was much more at ease knowing you accepted his apology. “I won’t like it but I can do that. It’s only fair. Can I make it up to you over dinner? We’ll make a quick stop to the hospital to set things straight with Andersen.” When you shut the door in his face in the alley he had Thor take him to the hospital. He’d call another town car to get home. 

He’ll apologize to Andersen and pay the hospital bill, but you’re not paying the increased rate. No way. Steve will pay him off enough that he won’t be telling anyone about the altercation, either. Win-win in his eyes.

You leaned your head against his shoulder in slight exhaustion and nodded. “Can we forget the reservation? I really want breakfast food right now.”

A soft chuckle escaped his lips. “Of course sweetheart, you wanna get takeout and go back to mine?” He felt you nod. “Yes, please”. 

“Let me just order a car and we’ll be on our way. I’m sorry again, sweetheart, I promise I’m gonna make it right even if that guy’s a douche.” You laughed a little bit and wiped the few tears that stayed in your eyes.

“So.... your girl, huh? Is that like some mob slang term I don’t know about? Are we official?”

A smile graced his lips. “I’d like to be, if you would.” 

You smiled back at him. “I might be persuaded with waffles.” 

[broadwayandnetflix]

Snickers Iced Coffee - Bo Burnham x Reader

Warnings: Language

Theme: FLUFFFFF

Request: how abt a fic where the reader is a barista & bo stays late at the coffeehouse while she closes bc he’s avoiding the weather (but is also using it as an excuse to chat her up)

Word Count: 1.7k

A/N: shy BO y’all. I am so sorry for the hiatus. sm shit has been going down and I’m currently in college. but more fics are coming soon. and thanks for requesting @likesthemoon

You eyed him from behind the counter with an amused expression upon your lips. His taller figure definitely making him stand out amongst everyone else.

“You do know we close in five minutes right?” you quip, your lips breaking into a slight grin.

His blue eyes widened at the prospect of being called on. It seems that he had been staring up at the chalkboard menu for quite some time now.

Besides, it wasn’t like rocket science; you worked in a small hideaway cafe in the city. The menu was simple, complete with your standard espresso drinks and teas, except for seasonal beverages.

Yet by the way he was going at it, it appeared as if mocha or caramel were life-altering decisions.

He’s lucky he’s cute, or you would be ready to kick him out the minute you neared close.

He was somewhat a regular in your shop, awkward but charming. Plus, he was tall, and Jenna, your coworker, knew how you liked taller men.

“Oh, I was just thinking about what to order.” he said, clearing his throat.

You cocked your head to the side, and he knew that you could see right through him. His eyes darting to the side, and you exhaled.

“Would you like some help?” you hum, checking your watch.

Three minutes till closing.

His blue eyes crinkled slightly as he shifted his weight to the side. It was apparent that he was anxious, of what you didn’t know.

“Oh, why not? What do you recommend?” he asked.

When it came to the world of Java, you weren’t technically an expert. However, with long event-less shifts came boredom, and thus produced experimental drinks. From the likes of Pinterest, but you’d never let anyone know that.

Now, this wasn’t no Starbucks, but you had to admit you came up with some pretty cool concoctions.

Would this man like said concoctions, you doubted it. However, it would get him a beverage, and you could shut down the cash register for the day.

“Do you like Snickers?” you said after some time.

“Like the candy?” he replied, curiosity in his brow.

“Yes, like the candy.” you deadpanned; he blushed.

“Um yeah, snickers are good.” he said quietly.

“Good, now hot or iced?” you asked as he picked an iced beverage.

Perfect, he was going to be the recipient of your snickers iced coffee. It was pretty simple actually, iced coffee complete with mocha, caramel, and hazelnut syrups. Topped off with a dash of cream, you went to work behind the espresso machine.

You stirred the coffee carefully to incorporate the syrups together, pressed a lid on top, and slid it his way.

He gave you a sheepish grin before giving it a sip.

“Holy shit that’s good.” he exclaimed before looking down at you, with a look you couldn’t quite decipher.

“I know right. I came up with it the other day, or I attempted to make it the other day. It gets boring after awhile when the rush is over.” you admitted while you typed his order into the register.

He took that as notice to pull out his wallet and slipped you a twenty. Which was entirely out of the anticipated price range of the coffee.

You kinda gaped, eyes widening at the gesture, as he gave you a nervous smile. It was definitely a bold move giving you roughly a fifteen-dollar tip for a five-dollar coffee.

“Thank-thank you.” you said, not taking your eyes off of him, obviously shocked.

“Would you wanna go out some time?” he juts out, blue eyes staring intently at you.

You clamped your mouth shut and swallowed. Now you most definitely weren’t expecting this. I mean, would you want to go out with him?

Of course.

The man was practically a nervous wreck while he asked you out. Not so much suave as he had probably hoped.

“You don’t have to- I mean. I don’t know I just think you are so pretty, and I-“the man’s words sloppy and disorganized.

You could see the sweat accumulating upon his forehead, and in a way, it was cute, endearing almost. The fact that this absolute unit of a man was so scared to ask you out.

“When?” you smirked as you opened the cash drawer to start counting for the day.

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see the way his whole face lit up. You pretended to pay no mind as you counted your sales for the day.

“Oh, I didn’t think I was gonna get this far.” he chuckles to himself sheepishly.

He stretches a hand out as if to shake yours. You look at him, trying not to pay attention as to how nicely yours fits into his grip.

Smiling sweetly while he introduces himself as Robert, but for you to call him Bo. You do the same, and his eyes sparkle upon hearing your name.

“Y/N, Y/N, Y/N.” he noted softly, almost as if he’d lose your name.

You slid the remaining bills back into their respective places during close. Eyeing the final price with a satisfied nod, and looked back to see how awful clean-up was gonna be for the day.

Not too shabby.

It almost took you a second to realize that Bo was still there and watching you. And then it hit you; the man doesn’t have your number. Or you don’t have his.

“Shit my bad.” you curse as you quickly write your number down on a stray post it.

“Thank you.” Bo breathes, but you’re already absentmindedly beginning to shut down everything.

“I’ll text you. How about tomorrow?” you suggest aloud.

“Oh god, that’s perfect actually. I swear I’m gonna leave the store. It’s just-.”

You lookup. It’s practically pouring outside, which you could only imagine was gonna be a pain to deal with later. As well as probably why he has been so hesitant to leave. Besides, you wouldn’t want the man to get soaked. Everything clicks into place, and you meet Bo’s eyes once more.

“Wanna help me close?”

“Oh, are you sure? I’m not entirely trained in barista stuff.” Bo replies.

“Oh please, you’ll be fine. Plus I wouldn’t mind getting to know you more.” you jest.

You could see a hesitant glimmer in his eyes before he gives in and joins you behind the counter. His taller statue dwarfing the station, which makes you chuckle as you edge around him.

“Good, now let’s begin.”