#fitz really decided to go for the throat

[alaydabug2]

Yeah so I decided to take a happy song and make it sad again 🙂

Enjoy ☺️

(Keefe pov)

"Come on," Ro groaned. "Are you really not going to tell her?"

"No! Stop bugging me." Keefe turned around in his chair. "She's with Fitz. She's happy. If she wants him, who am I to tell her otherwise?"

"Don't you think you should at least let her know that she has another option."

"No. I'm not going to do that to her. That's going to complicate things, and I can't lose her."

Keefe sighed and went back to trying to draw the scene he was working on. It was when he had pranked his father the other day, covering him with goo.

"You've already lost her," Ro muttered. "She's with Captain Perfect."

"Ok and? That's none of my business. I need to stay out of it."

She rolled her eyes and stalked off.

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

"I can't believe it!" Keefe faked his smile. "I'm proud of you, dude. Finally manned up and proposed."

The war was over. It had been for quite a few years now. Sophie and Fitz had stayed together through it all. He didn't want his friends to hurt, but that small, extremely selfish part of him hoped that they'd break up. Give one more chance for him to shoot his shot. It never came.

"Thanks." Fitz's grin was so elated and genuine, Keefe felt awful for being jealous. Not that he'd ever tell him that.

He was happy for his friends. He truly was. But the emotional turmoil in his heart...

But... he was too late. And he knew that. The only thing he could do now was grit his teeth through it all and pretend he didn't feel his heart breaking apart every time he saw them together. Keep his tears in until he was safe in his room and cry himself to sleep.

It was torture. But he could do it. He'd been doing it for fifteen years at that point.

No, he couldn't....

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

Day of the wedding came. Ro had come to visit for it. Instead of the gloating he was expecting for never saying anything, there was a soft look on her face.

"You alright?" She asked.

Keefe shrugged. He adjusted his tie. "I'm ok," he lied.

"No, you're not."

"I'm happy for them," he insisted.

"That's not what I asked." She moved closer. "I asked if you were alright."

He cleared the thickness from his throat. "I have to be. I'm the best man."

Ro pursed her lips. She let out a sigh. "Ok, then. If you say so."

He played off the water in his eyes during the ceremony as tears of joy. They were anything but. He forced his lips into a smile. He had to make it through the ceremony. He couldn't have a breakdown at his best friend's wedding over the girl he was marrying because he loved her.

Gosh, he loved her. It physically hurt to watch. A constant beating to his heartstrings.

Then, it was announced for the bride and groom to kiss. Oh, he couldn't watch. It made him feel sick.

He had to, though. Had to pretend it was all alright. Cause he couldn't let all that hard work of pretending for years go down the drain. Two very important friendships depended on it.

He still couldn't stomach it, though.

The reception was next. He found a quiet table to sit at far off in the corner. In the distance, Sophie and Fitz were having their first dance. He could feel the waves of joy coming off of Sophie from where he was sitting.

They were happy.

That's what he had to keep reminding himself to keep him sane. They were happy.

He picked one of the dandelions out of the vase on the table. He gently blew on it. He stopped himself when he was about to make his wish.

For so many years, he would wish for Sophie to miraculously change her mind. But... that ship had sailed. It was hopeless now.

Instead, he wished he could get over his feelings. But he knew there was no hope for that either.

He could feel his composure breaking. A stray tear fell down his cheek. He smudged it away and fled to the bathroom.

He could only make it to lock himself in a stall before breaking out into heavy sobs.

All hope was gone. The girl he loved was with his best friend and he couldn't do anything to change that.

[epic-kotlc-crossover]

Suffering & Different Beast 2.0

heyyyy enjoy this slightly better version of the thunder saga~

@thesfromhms @sombrathedragon @myfairkatiecat @imnotskyguy-remake @bookwormgirl123

@ham-cheese-toastie @justalunaticfangirl

Many weeks after leaving the Underworld, on a calm day of travels, Fitz heard a splash from the side of his ship. He held up his hand to signal the crew. Stop. 

“Fitz? Is that you?” a voice called from the water. It couldn’t be…

For a moment, almost sounded like his first mate, Keefe. But surely he was imagining it. “Sophie?” Fitz’s voice cracked as he raced to the side of the boat. He leaned over and saw his wife sitting on a rock jutting out of the waves. Her long golden hair billowed out behind her in the salty ocean wind.

“Fitz, after all these years, don��t you miss me?” She asked, hurt in her striking brown eyes.

“Of course I do.” His voice shook as he reached out to her. 

“Then jump in the water and kiss me,” she said, smiling playfully.

“Sophie, I’ve told you so many times: I’m afraid of the water.”

“Oh, darling, I’ll make sure you remain safe. Now come play with me and our son!” Sophie laughed. Fitz couldn’t remember the last time he’d heard that sound. It was amazing.

“I really would love to, but you know I’d prefer my feet on solid ground.”

“I would keep you from suffering,” Sophie reassured, her brown eyes flashing with reassurance.

“I don’t doubt that you would.”

“Then come into the water!” Fitz heard the urgency of Sophie’s voice.

“Okay, fine. But first, can you answer a few questions?”

Sophie batted her lashes. “Of course.”

Fitz sighed in relief. “Okay, so, let’s pretend I was on the run from Poseidon. And let’s say he blocked the way home with massive storms and giant waves. Which route should I take to avoid him? How do I get home?”

Sophie’s face fell. “The only way home is through a place he’d never dare to go… It’s through the lair of Scylla.”

“No,” Fitz whispered, leaning back in shock.

“It’s your only way.”

“But.. Scylla has a cost.” Fitz's mind was whirling. Scylla, Scylla, Scylla. Greet the world with open arms, Fitz. The last voice was Dex. His friend, his brother in arms… He shoved the thought away.

“Well, you asked me and now you know, so jump in the water!”

“Sophie, you know I would die for you, but can’t you let me stay dry on the boat?” 

“Just, please,” she pleaded, “come into the water.”

Fitz sighed and straightened his back, shaking his head. “The things I do for you, Sophie.” 

Just as he was about to jump, he stopped, a glare marring his features. 

“Let’s cut this charade, you aren’t my wife! You’ve been trying to kill me this whole time. I know underwater there are more of you hiding. That’s right, I know you’re a Siren.” He spat the last word with disgust.

“How do you know that?” Sophie asked, fear making its way onto her face. But that wasn’t all… her entire body was changing, growing horrible bat wings, her hands sprouting into claws. She had fangs too, perfect for dragging sailors into the deep.

“Well, for starters, my real wife knows that I’m not scared of the water. And my real wife knows I don’t have a son!” Fitz shouted. Already more sirens were emerging from the depths of the inky black ocean, fangs bared.

“And,” Fitz added with a smirk, “while we were chatting, you didn’t notice your friends got captured.”

“WHAT?” The siren yelled. She whipped her head to the side, eyes widening as she noticed the empty waters beside her. 

“Since the Underworld, I’ve decided: I’m done suffering.” He gestured to his crew behind him, and then added, “We are a different beast now. No more of us will die because of you. We are men made into monsters.” He finished in a low snarl.

Keefe stepped forward and handed Fitz his bow and arrow. When Fitz took it, his fingers brushed his first mate’s hand. Keefe cleared his throat and said, “Captain, what are your orders?”

“Kill them all.”

Screams rose from the waters as his crew murdered the packs of sirens ruthlessly. Fitz helped, aiming his arrows at the siren disguised as his wife. She dodged, hissing and splashing salty water at his eyes. 

While she was frantically dodging his arrows, Fitz said, “When we were trying to escape Poseidon, we found a ship with no crew and figured out it must be sirens. We put beeswax in our ears and I played along when you pretended to be my wife. I read your lips and you were very helpful, but now that I know how to get back to Ithica, we don’t need you anymore.” He grinned evilly as the siren gasped. He used her momentary distraction to aim an arrow right between her ribs.

Aim.

Pull back. 

Fire. 

One of Athena’s many mantras from his years of training rang through his ears as blood spilled from the siren. Her scream was drowned out by all the others.

All I hear are screams.

[oliversrarebooks]

Prompt: Fitz using his vampire mind control powers for the first time and perhaps having PTSD flashbacks to Lily brainwashing him.

It really isn't Lily that Fitz has PTSD flashbacks to - at least not primarily. Which means that instead of Fitz's first time using his powers, I decided to write about a somewhat later time when Fitz's fears plagued him...

Masterlist

September 1910

TW: mind control, blood drinking, PTSD, self-loathing, mentions of blood

It was a bad night even before the puppets showed up.

In fact, it was destined to be a bad night ever since Fitz had happened to glance at the calendar and realize that it was the anniversary of the day he'd been taken from Lex. He immediately tried to push that sordid knowledge from his mind, knowing that it would result in nothing but a lot of pointless anxiety. 

The thin scars lining his hands itched and ached regardless.

And that was before he realized that the act booked to go on before him was a fucking puppet show of all things. As he waited in the wings, peeking out the curtain, he watched as the near-life-size wooden puppets twitched and danced. 

He tried not to feel the strings tightening around his own wrists and neck, forcing sore, tired limbs to move against his will. He tried to fight the urge for his own feet to twitch in uncontrollable rhythm. He tried not to hear the cruel whisper in his ear, pouring cold terror into his unresisting mind as his Master listed every trivial mistake.

One of the puppets was a ballerina, twirling in a graceful pirouette. Some of his fellow thralls had been ballerinas, too, delicate feet bleeding on the dance floor.

A sick dizziness washed over him. He felt detached from reality as he fought the urge to sink to his knees and grovel to his Master for a leniency that was rarely granted. The words were bubbling up in his rapidly tightening throat as he swayed and gripped a curtain to remain upright.

"Mr. Fitz?"

"Master," he murmured. "Master, please, I'm trying --"

"Mr. Fitz, hey. Are you okay, mate?"

The stage fell back into place around Fitz as he snapped out of the self-inflicted trance he'd been in. One of the stagehands, a scrawny boy of no more than nineteen, was pulling on his sleeve. "You look pale as the dead, mister," he said, with innocent concern. "Are you all right? You're going to need to go on in a few."

"I'm fine, I'm fine," he said, mustering up a smile that he was sure looked ghastly. The show needed to go on, after all.

---

Fitz somehow managed to hold himself together for an entire act. From the audience's delighted reaction, they didn't suspect a thing wrong. They couldn't hear the whispered memories tugging at Fitz's mind every time his focus slipped an inch, and thank the devil for that.

He slouched in his dressing room chair. What the hell was wrong with him? He had no reason to be so irrationally frightened of a threat that was an ocean away and several years removed. This time, when he criticized himself, it was his own voice and not the Maestro's --

Pull it together. God, you're fucking useless. Getting turned didn't cure you of that, now did it?

There was a soft knock on the door. "Come in," said Fitz, putting his smile back on, happy to have any distraction from his own wretched thoughts.

A young man in a stylish blue suit slipped in the doorway. He had big, dark eyes, the kind you could lose yourself in, and a gentle smile. A handsome man, one of Fitz's favorite sorts of distraction.

"It's nice to meet you, Mr. Fitz," said the young man. "My name is Charlie, and I'm a big fan of magic. I really enjoyed your act this evening, and the stagehand told me I could come backstage to meet you."

Bless the innocent stagehand and his excellent instincts. Not only was the man handsome, but he also smelled like a treat. A bit of blood would do wonders for healing his addled mind. 

"Yes, of course. Excellent taste!" said Fitz with a grin and a wink. "Have a seat. I appreciate the company, especially from a fan like yourself."

Fitz turned his vampiric charm on a low hum, not enough to exert any real control, just enough to set the man at ease and draw him in. He'd been a natural at it right off the bat, as soon as he'd recovered from the turning and the injuries inflicted upon him. He could already see the relaxed smile spreading across Charlie's face, the way he leaned in closer to Fitz as he sat.

"Can I ask how you do any of your tricks, or do you never reveal your secrets?" Charlie asked. "Especially the one with the two chairs."

"Oh, it's a secret," said Fitz, leaning in closer himself. "I can give you a hint -- only one of the chairs has a real back to it."

"Oh yeah?" 

"Mmmhmm. What else did you like about my act? I'm always eager to hear some praise, you know."

"I liked the part with the fishtanks. It was very suspenseful. And the bit where you escaped the handcuffs..." Charlie's eyes were going a little glassy. Perfect.

Fitz reached in and touched the man's hair, meeting with no resistance. Such an easy mark. "Very good," he said, physical contact allowing him to weave his real power around the man's mind, soothing him and promoting feelings of blissful pleasure.

"Very good," Charlie agreed, slowly nodding, losing himself in it already.

Fitz's treacherous, anxious mind supplied him with a vision a backstage dressing room years ago, the one where Lily had mesmerized him and sealed his fate. How it had felt to be helpless against a vampire's power.

Annoyed, he pushed it aside. This wasn't like that. He was the vampire now and he was fully in control. He wasn't packing this man off to one of those nasty auction houses, he was just taking a little taste. Charlie clearly had plenty of blood he wouldn't miss.

"Tell me, Charlie," Fitz said with a wicked grin that he knew would make his fangs obvious. "If you're such a devoted fan, would you mind parting with a bit of your blood? Just enough for a little snack, nothing that will do you any harm."

There was only the briefest of resistance before Charlie's head bobbed in an eager nod. "Sure, Mr. Fitz, that'd be just... perfect..."

Perfect.

The word rang through Fitz's head.

I'm trying! I'm trying, Master, please, I'm trying!

If you were actually trying, it would be perfect.

The puppet string tightened around his neck, his old scars feeling like they were on fire.

"No," he whispered, pushing the stranger away and falling to the floor, his stool overturning. "No, no, please, Master, I can't do it any more, I can't -- "

The stranger blinked and looked down at Fitz in confusion. "Are you all right? There might be something in the air here, I was feeling so strange --"

"Go," said Fitz, pushing the stranger away with the same force he'd used to draw him closer. "Leave me!"

The stranger couldn't scramble out of the dressing room fast enough, leaving Fitz to curl up in a miserable, pathetic heap on the floor, cowering before a Master that only existed in his head. He could feel the dank chill of the Maestro's practice room, the scrapes on his knees as he groveled on the floor, the sharp cuts where the fine, cruel silver knife had marred his skin --

Feeling desperate and pitiful, there was only a brief argument in his mind before he relented and sought out Lex. His mind traversed the familiar connection between sire and sireling, the one Lex was so careful never to abuse. Fitz hated leaning on his old love to soothe his troubled mind, but on a really bad night like this --

The connection was always weak from the sireling's end, so all he could send was feelings and vague impressions. Puppets. Knives. Fear.

The response was immediate. Are you okay? What's happening? Didn't you have a show tonight?

Fitz swallowed and tried to convey that he was fine in the practical sense, just having terrible waking nightmares.

He was rewarded when his mind was flooded with a cool, soothing calm, washing away his fear and pain. His muscles unclenched. His shaking subsided. He was able to sit up, leaning against the wall, drinking in the comfort Lex was providing him from afar.

He hated to do it. After all, this situation was largely his fault, no matter how much Lex tried to convince him it wasn't. He should be the one comforting his love. But he was weak. Even as a vampire, he was so fucking weak.

Masterlist

@d-cs @latenightcupsofcoffee @thecyrulik @dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night @wanderinggoblin @whumpyourdamnpears @only-shadows-dwell-where-we-are @pressedpenn @pigeonwhumps @amusedmuralist @snakebites-and-ink @xx-adam-xx @ivycloak @irregular-book @whumpsoda @mj-or-say10 @pokemaniacgemini @whumpshaped @whumpsday @morning-star-whump @shinyotachi @silly-scroimblo-skrunkl @steh-lar-uh-nuhs @pirefyrelight @theauthorintraining-blog @whump-me-all-night-long @anonfromcanada @typewrittenfangs @tessellated-sunl1ght @cleverinsidejoke @abirbable

[the-way-astray]

ok so I know you don't like Keefe but I wonder what your extensive thoughts on Sophie are (if you have any)

i do, anon! all thoughts that follow are almost 100% subjective, etc. etc. etc. it starts out negative, because i want to end on a positive note :) this will be long

alright i will start by saying: i love sophie. but when i started reading the series, i was very much a sophie hater. actually, that's a bit strong. i was a sophie . . . non-enjoyer. while part of it was definitely the fact that i was exposed only to people that hated on sophie, i also did think by myself that sophie was a tad annoying, to put it mildly.

i've talked extensively about how much i dislike keefe, as you've mentioned, and part of that isn't really about keefe at all, so much as it is the way the narrative frames keefe. and the narrative is . . . mostly sophie herself. surprising exactly nobody, i'm not a fan of the way she lets keefe walk all over her, and the way she's kind of a doormat when it comes to him. she lets him off the hook all the time, justifies the crap out of his behavior, and even when you can tell she feels something negative from whatever toxic trait he's exhibiting this time, she never says anything about it, except for once or twice (i've talked about the nightfall scene at length before, and how it results in zero character development for keefe, just the illusion of it, and same with the legacy thing). it would be incredibly satisfying to have sophie tell keefe something like "hey, if you keep ruining all our plans because you're too stupid/arrogant to let the plan go according to plan, then we won't be able to include you. sorry not sorry". yet she doesn't. and she doesn't even have a good reason most of the time. like in legacy, when she went to tell him that his mom had ordered tam to kill him, after tam had specifically told her not to do that, because they both know keefe makes atrocious decisions when it comes to his mom. and yet sophie still goes straight to him and decides to tell him!!!! and it's like why the fuck would you do that???? keefe needs to be put in his place, and unfortunately, it seems like sophie is the only person that has the power to do that. it annoys the fuck out of me that the fact that keefe is constantly shitty to her doesn't seem to affect their relationship in the slightest. she somehow still trusts him the same after all the shit he's put her through, she still thinks him smart despite evidence to the contrary, and in general, when it comes to keefe she's excruciatingly irrational and lenient. and it annoys me. like she's so logical everywhere else, why can't she be the same with keefe? it makes her character ridiculously inconsistent, to me at least. i won't talk about this any more than this because i've already ranted about it at length but: the answer to that is basically that shannon needs to keep shoving sokeefe and keefe loving sophie and sophie needing keefe down the audience's throats. it's very fan-service-y, but i'll leave it at that for now.

here's where i may make some people mad, so i would like to say that this is all what i used to think. i've since matured, so i don't really think this anymore. but her crush on fitz. oh, boy. when i first read the series i found it the epitome of annoying. i was basically screaming at her (mentally, i did read most of this series in school lmfao) to get it together the entire time. i was just like. sophie. just. stop being so weird around him! he's just a guy! there's no need to act like an idiot and a half every time you interact with him to the point where everyone around you can tell what's up! it gave me a ridiculous amount of secondhand embarrassment. i was like . . . sophie . . . you can have a crush . . . but you don't have to be so obvious and embarrassing about it. anyway. i've since realized i'm aro and also apparently somewhat emotionally repressed so i think i'm just not like sophie. but because i couldn't understand why the fuck she was letting the stupid crush drag her through the mud, socially speaking, i found it excruciating. although i now understand why sophie acts the way she does, even to this day when i read those scenes where keefe or biana or dex makes a comment that implies they know exactly what's up with sophie and fitz it makes me so embarrassed (secondhandedly speaking), like come on, sophie, can't you make your crush just a tad less obvious???? but i also get that that's just how sophie is. again, this is entirely a personal taste thing.

legacy sophie annoyed the crap out of me, not gonna lie. it was excruciating. keefe consistently told her, again and again, to reach out to fitz, to confide in fitz, to lean on fitz. and then! she doesn't!!!! the thing is i can't even necessarily be mad because she fully acknowledges herself that she was a bad girlfriend. but also it's like could you not have gone to fitz just once instead of keefe. just once!!!! he literally told you he'd go at your pace!!!! even after he knows about the matchmaking thing, he's still willing to be with her, and he also wants to help her search for her parents, something she has interest in at that point. just. watching sophie make a mess out of her relationship with fitz was so annoying to me. i would put around 90% of the blame of sophitz falling apart on sophie, because she's the one who consistently ignored him, despite being told not to do that exact thing by both himself and keefe. and it's like!!!! i get it!!!! it can't be easy knowing you're dating a guy who literally cannot be in a bad match after being told you're going to be a bad match. i get the perspective. but it was still hella annoying to read. i wanted sophie to properly communicate with fitz just once, just once, and the miscommunication grated on me the entire time. the miscommunication trope is one of my least favorites and god, i just wanted sophie to be a good girlfriend to fitz just once!!!! just once!!!! like you have fitz over here, doing literally everything he can to try to meet sophie halfway, beyond halfway, even, and then you have sophie, spitting in the fact of his efforts. it's hard not to get frustrated reading that.

there's also this small moment at the beginning of legacy where she gets super butthurt that keefe left her out of one of his personal projects that has nil to do with her, then tries to like . . . guilt keefe into telling her? almost? and it's the same thing keefe's always doing with her, and it's very shady. no, sophie, you do not have a right to know everything keefe knows just because you're his friend!!!! back off!!!! that same scene she flips through one of his personal notebooks without his permission while he looks visibly uncomfortable, too. stop it!!!! that's not yours!!!! keep your hands to yourself!!!!

and my least favorite thing sophie has ever done in the entire series happens in legacy too: hijacking fitz's project and letting alvar go. oh my goodness. i cannot even begin to describe how much that single (hmm maybe not single, but they're connected) action pissed me off. she knew for the entire book how hard fitz was working to find alvar! keefe explicitly states that he was feeling a mix of some very negative emotions, which is how he nailed down that him working on his dad's memories was about alvar. she knew he was dealing with keefe's ass dad for the sole purpose of trying to find alvar after the shitshow that went down in flashback, and she knew exactly what he was going through in that book as well!!!! and then!!!! she fucking hijacks his project, doesn't even have the decency to tell him, and tries to justify it with some bullshit "oh, your dad's gotten too good at pushing fitz around" stuff. like sophie. that's very talk-down-y to fitz. like he's not a little kid!!!! let him make decisions for himself!!!! stop taking his choice away!!!! and i don't like it. and then, when she succeeds at fitz's project, she doesn't even have the decency to tell him then!!!! like, girl, i don't know how i can continue to defend this!!!!

and then!!!! it gets fucking worse!!!! because she actively stops fitz from achieving the one goal he's been trying to achieve for the entire book (about three weeks, for context, it's actually the shortest kotlc book timeline-wise besides unlocked): trying to capture alvar. like, sophie. come on. and i do feel bad for keefe in this scene, i truly do. it's like the telling-sophie-to-confide-in-fitz thing, he's doing so much to try to keep their relationship together, and then when sophie's out here with a baseball bat fucking smashing it to pieces and he's just standing there watching it, you're like. okay, that must be painful. anyway, back to sophie. her reasoning is shit, this decision is shit, the fact that keefe is the one that tells fitz she let alvar go is shit, everything about this scene fucking sucks. as fitz said, not only is sophie more powerful than the average telepath, but she and fitz are cognates. there's pretty much no way they couldn't have gotten the secret from alvar, even if he supposedly knows how to hide the real story from the fakes. and!!!! that doesn't even consider the fact that sophie and keefe could've just backstabbed alvar. he was weak, and the deal was they'd let him go if he told them, right? well they could've just. not let him go!!!! that was a valid option!!!! it pisses me off that they didn't do that. the second sophie saw alvar, she should've been thinking about how fitz was looking for him and how she was going to capture him so fitz didn't go down a very dark path, the same thing she'd be thinking if it was gisela and keefe. but no!!!! she doesn't even consider capturing alvar a priority in the slightest, if not for the sake of capturing alvar itself, then at least for the sake of supporting her boyfriend. and that pisses me off.

i do agree that fitz's . . . method of communication . . . was not the greatest. that's why i think he deserves 10% of the blame. but everything he says was perfectly logical. he just says it very emotionally so it's difficult for sophie to think about anything other than the fact that he's yelling at her. but his points were valid.

and what actually pisses me off isn't that in and of itself, it's just how quickly the narrative just . . . lets sophie get away with it. when fitz and sophie do their shoddy little make-up at the end of legacy, there's never an implication that fitz feels some resentment toward sophie for stopping him from achieving his goal. like he just drops it instantly???? and he's the one apologizing, which he needed to, but sophie owed him an even bigger apology, like what she did to him could be considered some form of betrayal???? like sophie. you were wrong. you were wrong. when is the narrative going to let sophie be wrong, and not villainize the person saying she is???? she should've been apologizing to fitz for the shit she put him through this entire book, yet she did not. when fitz shows up she sighs and goes "is this about alvar" and fitz is like "no, of course not!!!! i would never!!!!" and i was like. this should be about alvar. stop making it out to be that fitz would be in the wrong for making it about alvar, he deserves to call sophie's ass out for that instantly!!!! sophie should be villainized for that action. but instead fitz drops it and it never comes up again. now i am truly pissed at sophie. just because she's the main character doesn't mean everything has to bend to her whims. she's allowed to learn and grow like everyone else.

basically, if keefe is the main reason i don't ship sokeefe, then sophie is the main reason i don't ship sophitz. that comparison will make sense to people who have read my anti keefe stuff, but if you haven't, ignore that.

moving onto unlocked sophie! i don't know what happened to sophie in these later books but i don't like it. there's one specific moment that really grates on me in unlocked, except that moment then expands over like four or something chapters. which for a sixteen-chapter-novella is . . . a lot. when keefe decides, in an uncharacteristically logical manner, to stay away from sophie because she seems to be making his abilities go out of control, she gets so butthurt and at this point i'm just sitting here rolling my eyes because i don't even know how to defend this anymore. she somehow manages to twist it in her head to make it out to be like, "keefe doesn't want me around!!!!" and then gets super butthurt at something . . . that isn't happening. in the slightest. and it's not even a logical conclusion to jump to!!!! she just fucking does!!!! and then!!!! the narrative supports this view by having keefe apologize to her in an incredibly forced scene for something . . . he didn't do. his offense was *checks notes* trying not to harm anyone with his new, dangerous ability by keeping someone who basically acts as an amplifier away. i can only assume shannon put this in here because she loves her forced consolation sokeefe scenes, whichever direction they may be in, because it makes no sense whatsoever and is just about the dumbest thing to have to make up over.

and burning the archetype pissed me off. to be clear: totally chill with her burning down the storehouse. but the archetype???? and then later she justifies it by saying "well, gisela hasn't come looking for it so it's probably not important". like no???? gisela tells sophie and keefe in nightfall that she has a photographic memory and has the entire thing memorized . . . please . . . can you tell i hate it when. stupid characters. i hate this!!!! it's not even like an understandable stupid decision! sophie makes tons of those throughout the series and they make sense! but they're still stupid (see: reading king dimitar's mind). this was straight up stupid stupid. it was so bad . . . so bad . . . ugh. she tells flori to keep the archetype safe, then like five seconds later changes her mind completely???? i can only assume shannon did this because the archetype would ruin the story (make it too easy if the crew got their hands on it), but then she didn't have to write the archetype into that scene at all!!!! done! i don't understand the decision here . . . it was so utterly stupid it scares me.

i don't like stellarlune sophie. i don't like stellarlune in general, but stellarlune sophie feels like a hyper-girlbossed caricature of sophie. kotlc has a major girlbosses-instead-of-proper-female-characters problem, and nothing illustrates that more than stellarlune sophie. if the elves were to make a movie out of sophie after this is all over that parades her around as a hero, they would characterize her as something close to stellarlune sophie. absolutely despise sophie's personality in that book (and the books leading up to it, legacy and unlocked). everyone's constantly telling sophie to her face how she's not that little girl anymore and how she's so grown up and how she doesn't take anyone's shit anymore (false, see: keefe) and how she has this badass new personality now and how they're a fan of her snark and this and that and the other and it makes me want to scream (because one, it's terrible writing, and two, it's just not true). one of shannon's worst examples of tell-not-show. i don't know how to describe stellarlune's entire vibe aside from "desperate". currently on lodestar in my reread (well, if my computer lets me back into the ebook) and i just. like sophie so much more in this book. she has good plans, she has some fight, she has somewhat of a sense of humor and the narrative isn't constantly spoonfeeding how cool she is at the reader. you're allowed to form your own opinions on her.

which is a good way to start talking about the things i like about sophie! i love sophie in books one through seven. there's a conversation in flashback with mr. forkle (blech) where he tells sophie that she may be ready for more responsibility in black swan, and it feels infinitely more natural than the weird spoonfeeding we get in the later books about how grown up sophie is, because you can feel that sophie in flashback is very different than sophie in keeper, and not in a weird over-the-top forced girlboss-ish way. i genuinely liked that scene, despite forkle (yucky).

okay, the storehouse fire. i liked it, as i mentioned earlier. it was a fantastic character moment for sophie. but what i like even more than that is that sophie faces a ton of opposition for it, both rational and irrational (irrational being the shit like "you just started a war" . . . to which i say, hello, where have to been for the last eight books, as well as the rational stuff like forkle saying that she didn't think before she started the fire, as well as the mid arguments of like "now the neverseen are going to be extra motivated to get revenge, and it's your fault, sophie"). because that's realistic! when you do anything bold like what sophie did, you are going to be met with lots of illogical and logical arguments for both sides. it's a lot to navigate, and it's a lesson in nuance. sophie now has to navigate this, and she does, for pretty much the rest of the book. in the end, you're sort of forced to sit with the fact that sophie's action wasn't perfect, nor was it horrible. it had bad sides (she did it somewhat recklessly) but it also had good sides (she did take out their soporidine stores and retrieve the caches). and that nuance is a fantastic addition to the story.

i like the concept behind sophie. outside kotlc tumblr, one of the main criticisms you'll see of sophie is that she's too overpowered . . . and it's like . . . yeah . . . nice job, you have successfully nailed down the premise of the series. do you want a cookie for this marvelous achievement. literally the point of the story is that sophie cannot defeat the neverseen with her numerous, powerful abilities alone. she can't. they have been planning this for years and unless she puts some serious thought and good planning into it, she will never be able to catch up. it doesn't matter how powerful she is, the neverseen are smarter. so what's the solution then? well, she has to sit down and come up with a solid plan to take them down. she has to go on the offensive instead of just defending herself and her loved ones. and you see her take that step in stellarlune. and most importantly, she has to stop being so reckless. this is the thing. sophie has shown throughout the series that she has a knack for being reckless. you see it with king dimitar, you see it with several other things. but the thing is that that's a flaw. it puts herself and others in danger and if she wants to take the neverseen down for good, she needs to work on that. in that way, the fact that sophie is so overpowered serves as a vehicle for character development: at one point she'll realize that it's just not enough. and she'll have to change accordingly.

i think sophie being faced with the fact that she'll likely end up having to kill a neverseen member is a good thread to introduce. i wish it had been done before stellarlune, because this series is gloriously repetitive, but better late than never, i suppose. i like that she knows that one day she may have to go there, and she's dealing with that beforehand and trying to stomach it before she can get there. i'm curious to see where this will go, and i'm not entirely certain it will go anywhere, since shannon has a tendency to drop random plot/character threads, but that will be interesting to see unfold (if it does).

sophie's character is about perspective. a change of perspective in a world that desperately needs it. and i like that. it's easy to see how the elves might carry on thinking their world is perfect, because that's all everyone talks about or verbalizes. like we know our world isn't perfect, only because we are taught the appropriate history and we have exposure to several resources that show us the sneaky (and not-so-sneaky) ways people are exploited. but the elves don't have that. if you are talentless or otherwise affected, it's like, well. you shut up, and i think you're even almost gaslighted into thinking yourself that the world is perfect because that's what everyone says. there is nobody to tell the elves to check their internal biases, there is nobody to show them all the ways their society is wrong. so sophie is valuable there. on top of that, people pay attention to her. this makes her perspective all the more valuable, because people will actually listen. and i think that concept is incredibly fascinating. i want to see a scene where sophie calls everyone out in a really bold way, where it's undeniable that she's poking holes through society's weak spots. so far, we haven't really seen her make any bold statements, just her checking her friends' biases every so often. but i hope that's where her story is going, and why shannon seems so obsessed with spoonfeeding us how bold sophie's getting.

obviously, as a reader, i'm dead curious about who her bio parents are. but i think it makes a lot of sense that sophie herself doesn't want to know unless provided with an incentive (matchmaking/fitz). it makes her even more fleshed out, because it sort of reminds you that sophie doesn't like any of this. given the choice she probably wouldn't even be a noble. she wants to be as detached from project moonlark as possible, because she doesn't like the spotlight. she doesn't want to know things because she's curious, she only wants to know them so that the neverseen can be defeated. and you see a sort of attitude of trying to be as detached from project moonlark as possible while still insisting that she's the moonlark, meaning she was designed to be a part of everything that's going on. that's really interesting to me. the relationship between sophie and project moonlark, and how it distorts her perception of herself. she doesn't like being the moonlark, yet she's obsessed with being a perfect one, she's obsessed with filling the role she tells herself she needs to fill. you can see how that leads to conversations like the ones where black swan members are telling her she wasn't really made for anything other than to be herself, and you see her grapple with that for the series.

tldr: i like the themes and general direction that sophie's arc and story appear to be going in, but there are a few things she does that i feel the narrative lets her off the hook far too easily for.

[bookwyrminspiration]

Do you have any thoughts on the amount of italics in Legacy? I haven’t really seen anyone talk about this, which makes sense because who wants to have a conversation about italics but the sheer amount of italics in Legacy made it a bit more of a distressing reading experience for me. (Also for clarification, this isn’t against Shannon or anything. I don’t think having a lot of italics is necessarily a bad thing, it’s just someone’s writing style.) Keeper does frequently use italics generally, but Legacy seemed to have far more than the previous books, at least to me. It felt like every other sentence had a word italicized for emphasis, and I don’t know why but that just made dialogue so confusing to read for me. Often italicized words can change the meaning/tone of a sentence, but it‘s sometimes difficult to identify what exactly it’s representing when it’s used in so many different ways so frequently. (Not even including telepathic convos here.) Like is it italicized because it’s sarcastic? Because the word’s being drawn out? Because the character is shouting? That word has more emotion than the rest of the sentence? And I’d often have to reread the sentences multiple times to try to understand what‘s going on because it doesn’t make sense that they’d be sarcastic here, so is it emotional? But this isn’t an emotional conversation is it? Just to give a quick example of what I mean, I’m going to put a snippet from legacy here. Since I don’t know how to do italics on anon, the words that were italicized will be in caps instead, so this is a warning to people who are sensitive to that.

”’If I were in your position, I’d DREAD having to talk to him and stall doing it for as long as I could. THAT’S why I want to help. I can save your from the hard parts- AND get stuff taken care of faster.‘“

((Kinda spoiler in this next one-))

“’SERIOUSLY?’ Fitz’s eyes narrowed when Keefe nodded. ‘Wow, you really hate Tam THAT much? Because he’s the one who’ll pay the price if you’re not there- you get that RIGHT?‘ ’He’s also the one who told Keefe to stay away,’ Sophie argued. ‘TWICE.’”

((Also am I the only person who completely forgot that convo happened? Fitz was really hitting where it hurts my goodness.))

I always have thoughts, nonsie. It's a burden and a curse. Wait. That's not how the saying goes but it's too funny to take back. But I'd love to have a conversation about italics! They're an interesting but difficult part of writing to utilize, as they add stress to the sentence in a way that completely changes their meaning! But also you have to be careful with them because they're so powerful!

I know there's been times when I've been writing and I've wanted to emphasize something but I already used italics earlier in the sentence/paragraph and I have to decide if the emphasis is actually worth it or realistic. Because while I want to bring attention to that specific word, the character might not! But on to what you're talking about!

You make an excellent conversation! A sentence has its basic meaning, and then adding an italicized word changes that! But there are so many ways that it can change it that it takes a bit more energy to figure out. You're trying to determine how it was changed, maybe reading the line again or saying it really exaggerated in you head to get the full effect. And when a book has that a lot, all those moments start to add up. Personally, it can go so far as to break my immersion in a story because I'm trying so hard to figure out what the sentence means.

Keeper definitely does have it's share of traits--well, Shannon has her writing traits! And italics is one of them. Another one people might notice is her tendency to use the word "corrected" as a tag after dialogue (like said, mumbled, laughed, asked, offered, etc). It's as common as Edward chuckling in Twilight! Used with telepathy just separates it as a type of dialogue without using the quotation marks that indicate its being said out loud, so I won't comment on that.

But you're definitely right. Legacy used a lot of italics. An overwhelming amount. Especially those lines you mentioned! At that point the italics are taking over the sentence and aren't contributing to it anymore. I'd probably rewrite the first one to have a dialogue tag after "seriously?" to convey the tone, and just get rid of the emphasis on "right" but that's my preference.

Okay just to confirm (not that I don't believe you, but to find even more evidence) I've got my copy of Legacy next to me and am flipping to random pages. it is. A lot of italics. I flipped to five random pages and of those five, each one had something italicized. I don't think all of them are necessary. All the italics change the sentences as that is their purpose, but I don't think they're all enough to warrant use of italics and that it's really repetitive in the story.

I wonder what Shannon's reasoning was. I found the quote you mentioned (the second one, on page 700-701) and it's an emotionally charged conversation and that would explain the emphasis, but then again it really disrupts the flow of conversation. At least for me it does. I can reasonably understand Sophie's "Twice." In response because she's matching Fitz's energy, but it's Fitz that stands out here. Perhaps this was to try and showcase some of the anger he'd been working on and how it's manifesting through slightly aggressive speech instead of flat out blaming people like he did in Exile.

It's also entirely possible Shannon's in the middle of an italics phase! Writer's go through phases all the time as writing develops, getting attached to words and manners of speaking, something that can even be tracked to an extent. In my experience this usually happens when you're trying really hard to avoid something else and lean too heavily into a new thing, which then becomes the new thing to avoid and it's a whole cycle--hence the phases! For example, I've been using the words "just" and "simply" a lot in the past few weeks/months and I don't know where it came from but it's coming up a lot more so I'm trying to avoid it, but I don't know what's gonna take it's place as I try to get around those words. She could be using italics to avoid a dialogue tag she'd been overusing or perhaps her editors thought there wasn't enough variation on the page.

Whatever the reason is for the increase in italics, you're 100% right that's its unusual and new and makes it harder to read. it's not a bad thing, like you said, but it is noticeable! Writing is very difficult and it's really easy to rely on certain words/phrases, so I think that's my main guess for why it's happening, but no way to know for certain!

[georgiaheartsdilfs]

i was thinking about you | goodguyfitz x reader

my masterlist ↪M A S T E R L I S T

warnings / other notes ↪ both povs included and will be clearly noted (y/n's & Camerons pov) ↪ based on the recent road trip video ↪ y/n is from New Zealand ↪ this is very bad

prompt - kinda long prompt ↪ A couple of months ago, you and Fitz broke up after mutually deciding that the love between you two had been lost and was redirected to your careers. You moved away to America whilst he remained in Australia. When you arrive back in Australia you try your best to avoid him until Eric spots you and drags you back to the Misfit's House.

Fitz's / Cameron's POV

"hey chat!" I greeted my twitch followers, this would be my first stream in a few months. The followers kept joining and greeting me with their weird fucking unique names. "hey, Fitz from Finland", I repeat a comment, "where the fuck is Finland near the north of Europe or something, well Hi." I laugh to myself, watching everyone continue to join.

I brought a mug up from the desk, showing them what was inside "we have some fucking hot chocolate, it's cold outside." even though it was clearly sunny outside it was cold inside our house and I couldn't fucking stand it.

Sitting patiently, I grab my guitar and start playing a calming rhythm, my fingers gently touching the strings.

"where is y/u/n?" I looked into my chat, and the chat was filled with questions about y/n? Why?

"Uhm? America?" I scoff, what were they trying to say. They didn't know about our break up but they knew something was off when she moved away. My eyes remain glued to the chat while my fingers play the same melody from the guitar strings.

@chrislestoorr194: she's in australia again! meet up. @MEMEEEENPC: america my ass you know she's back. @ALSOoverkill: why would he know? they are so broken up.

My face remained still, unsure of what to say to them. "how's everyone been?" I try to change the topic but the chat wouldn't budge. shit. Y/N's POV

I had only been in Australia for a couple of days but it made me think of him. Cameron. Sure, we had broken up because we didn't love each other anymore but I had some good memories with him. It didn't help that I came back to Melbourne too out of all places.

A couple of fans had seen me and taken photos of me asking where he was, I think that's why he was on my mind. I was so used to walking these streets with him that it felt weird to walk them without him.

"where is fitz?" someone runs up to me "uhm, I have no clue. I haven't spoken to him." I smile to the person that had asked me as he smiles and runs off.

I wasn't worried about where he was, or who he was going home to if he had someone. I was really only thinking about him.

Getting in my rental car, a guy knocks on my window "y/n!" the man says I turn my head to see Eric without his mask. Winding my window down my jaw drops to see how much he had changed over these past few months "eric?" I say confused, and he nods "don't tell me you forgot this face." he says.

"no of course I didn't I just, didn't expect to see you." I clear my throat "your voice is so American, in just a couple of months what the fuck!" he laughs "do you need a ride?" I ask him and he shrugs "sure" he gets in the passenger side.

"drive me home?" he asks and I clear my throat uncomfortably, I hadn't been there in a while but I still remember how to get there, even with my eyes closed. I nod.

Fitz's / Cameron's POV

"this is an inescapable topic isn't it" I laughed to the audience who continued raving on about y/n, my hot chocolate was well gone so I couldn't try to change the topic for the hundredth time.

"look, y/n and i haven't talked in like fucking months. I had no clue she was in Australia, so I wouldn't know where she is." I put my hands up defensively, trying not to trigger the weird crazed stans that loved mine and y/n's relationship when it was at its peak.

"but who knows, maybe i'll see her. I doubt it but nobody knows." my lips touch each other once more as silence overcomes the stream even though the chat was going crazy.

I was thinking about her, not about where she is or who she was even going home to these days, I was only thinking about her. And it wasn't me who prompted those thoughts, it was the fans, now they had me thinking about her.

Even when I hadn't thought about her since a month after she left, I never even cared to think about her, but now she was all I could think about.

Then I heard the front door open, Eric must've been back from his outing. "Yeah well I suppose that's just how things go in America." a female voice says.

I lift part of my headphones off of my ear to hear the voice clearer, did Eric get a friend from America? A Girlfriend? I shrug, thinking nothing of it to check who it was.

Continuing on with my stream.

@haryyballs23: why did he just lift of his headphones? who the fuck-

"no it was nothing, swagger had just come back I think." I clear my throat leaning back.

Two hours passed and the stream eventually ended, the chat was sceptical the whole time.

Getting out of my chair, I stand up to stretch my long limbs, grab my dirty dishes that were once filled with food and walk out of to the kitchen to hear laughing.

Y/N's POV

Eric had left to go get something from his room and I must have been laughing loud at my phone because someone walked in, and my head turned to see him.

"i was thinking about you." his voice sounded as calm as pattering rain "I was thinking about you too" I said breathless, I never thought I could miss someone as much as I missed him.

Even though in the past few months I hadn't thought about him once, it made me miss him even more.

His hair had grown out and he finally had grown a beard like he said he was going to do, he still had the same fashion sense and even though he looked tired he still looked as good as the day I first saw him.

My eyes never left his as he walked over to the counter placed his dishes down, walked towards me and placed his hands on my cheeks "you're real." he whispered with a smile and I kiss him, without hesitation my lips smashed against his.

I kissed him like it was my first kiss like I had been longing for this kiss for years and years.

"i'm real." I smile pulling away, someone clears their throat as Cameron turns around to see Eric with his jaw on the floor "didn't think that would happen..." he says shocked, he then slowly retreated back to wherever he came from.

Cameron turned back to me and I laugh quietly my head falling onto his chest.

"did you really stop loving me?" I ask him biting my lip and he smiled shaking his head "Nah."

[just-living-in-a-marvel-world]

Casual Clothes

Bus Kids x Reader

Summary: Reader is a field agent who is always in a suit just like Coulson. When the team has a day off, the bus kids are shocked to see her wearing comfy clothes.

The bed was really comfy as you slowly woke up. Looking over at your nightstand, you saw the clock read 9:00 A.M. You couldn't remember the last time you were able to sleep in and became even more grateful to Coulson for giving the team the day off. Hearing your stomach growl, you regretfully got out of bed to find some food.

Quickly, you changed out of your pajama pants and into some plain black shorts and thew a blue sweater over your tank top. As you looked in the mirror, you decided to brush your hair out instead of putting it up like you usually do.

You walk out of your bunk and make you way into the Bus kitchen. Walking in, you spot Simmons making eggs on the stove while Fitz stood at the counter cutting a banana and Sky sat beside him typing on her laptop nibbling on some bacon.

"Hey, guys," You greet as you rushed past them heading straight to the cabinet. You grab a bowl and some cereal before turning to the refrigerator to grab the milk.

"Well, good morning, Y/N! I hope you slept well last night considering how long you-" Simmons started only to stop abruptly when she turned around and saw you.

Skye looked up to say good morning to only instead her jaw dropped in shock. Without looking away, she slapped Fitz on the arm to get his attention.

"Skye! What the bloody hell was that for!? You almost caused me to cut myself!" Fitz scolded her. Skye said nothing but only pointed at you. Fitz was about to yell again only for his words to die in his throat when he finally looked at you.

All three stared at your back with their mouths open and eyes wide as you continued getting your breakfast ready.

Not noticing the sudden silence, you turned around about to eat only to freeze when you saw all eyes on you. You stared at them for a second and turned around to see if they were focused on something behind you.

Seeing nothing, you faced them again and walked over to the counter to sit down; your confusion growing as their eyes followed you. You only managed to get a few bites of your cereal when you couldn't take it anymore.

"Alright! What's going on?" You say abruptly. They quickly looked away when you broke the silence. You stared at them with furrowed eyebrows. "Did I do something to make you all uncomfortable because if I did I'm-"

"What are you wearing!?" Fitz interrupted. He looked down quickly to hide the blush he got when he realized what he said.

"Fitz!" Simmons admonished.

You looked down at yourself with a frown. "Is there something wrong with my clothes?"

"No no no. Nothing like that. It just caught us by surprise," Simmoms reassured. You snapped your head up to look at her. Seeing your confision, Simmons blushed as well and started to stuttered out an explanation. "Well, you see... I mean... We are just so used.. you know-"

"You're not wearing a suit." Skye came to Simmons rescue. You slowly realized what they where getting at but decided to keep playing along.

"It's our day off. Why would I wear a suit?" You question with a cheeky smile.

"Just cause.." Skye trailed off not really finishing her sentence or keeping eye contact with you.

"You guys didn't think I only wear a suit, did you?" You asked raising an eyebrow. When all of them looked away, you got your answer. You couldn't hold it in anymore and started laughing. All three of them blushed this time.

"Well, obviously not all the time!" Fitz defended.

"Yeah!" Simmons tried to help.

"To be completely honest, we all thought you sleep in the suit," Skye admitted with a shrug.

"Skye!" FitzSimmons yelled.

That only cause you to laugh harder. Tears were were running down your face with how hard you were laughing.

"How-" you huff through you laughter, "How come you thought that?"

"Can you blame us? That is all you wear," Simmons said sheepishly, a smile forming on her face as she watched you laugh.

"I mean, your hair is actually down instead of in a ponytail, which looks really good by the way. You should totally wear you hair like that more often." Skye laughed as she ran a hand through your hair.

You chuckled as you looked over at Fitz to see what he would say only to find him staring at the ground.

"Fitz!" You say snapping your fingers in front of his face to get him to focus. "What are you looking at?"

"I can see you feet," he plainly stated. After a beat of silence, you, Simmons, and Skye busted out laughing. Fitz tried to splutter out a response but couldn't say anything over all the laughter. Finally, he grumbled about going back to the lab, grabbed his bananas, and left.

Once you all calmed down, you looked at each other smiling. Suddenly, you smelled something that caused you to wrinkle your nose.

"Is something burning?" You asked. You saw confusion cover their faces before Simmon's turned to panic.

"The eggs!" Simmons cried as she ran back over to the stove. You and Skye both chuckled as you watched her handle the charred eggs which happened to get stuck on the pan.

"Come on," Skye said as she grabbed your hand and dragged you out of the kitchen.

"Where are we going?" You question but didn't struggle.

"Now that I know you own regular clothes, I wanna see them. Maybe we can have a mini-fashion show." Skye smiled and turned to you with a wink.

Laughing, you followed her towards the bunks while yelling at Simmons to meet you there when she's done.

[inkykeiji]

you’re like a drug to me, a luxury, my sugar and gold

character: gojou satoru

genre: smut with a sprinkle of fluff at the end

notes: aaaaah first jjk fic ever!!!! uhhh this is honestly just pure smut and punishment, satoru is a Bad Daddy, and it’s set in a curseless AU | title cred: handclap by fitz and the tantrums

warnings: 18+ minors dni, dubcon/noncon, slight size difference/size kink, belly bulge, spanking with a belt, rough sex, minimal prep, minimal aftercare (at first), toxic and unhealthy relationship (satoru is mean n a bad daddy!), daddy kink/slightly implied ddlg dynamics, praise kink, dacryphilia

words: 3.1k

synopsis:

And although you can—and do—get away with a lot, you can’t get away with everything. A little brattiness he can handle, a little brattiness he thinks is cute. But on the days when you’re really misbehaving, purposefully (or not) breaking every rule, acting out and refusing to listen, rejecting any bargain or compromise with him at all—well, he’s only human.

And he snaps.

Gojou Satoru is a bad Daddy.

He’s a sweet Daddy, a silly Daddy, a Daddy who’s almost incapable of saying no. He’s a Daddy with a massive sweet tooth, a Daddy who frequently allows both of you to have dessert before dinner—sometimes dessert for dinner—and a Daddy who gives his princess nearly everything she desires, weak to your pretty pout and puppy-dog eyes and please, Daddy?’s. He hates to deny you, aches at the thought of you being even just a teensy bit displeased, because he wants his baby happy, always.

It’s his fault, really, you’re saying, insisting, when he calls you a spoiled brat. Because, honestly, it is; Satoru is entitled—he always has been, born with a not silver, not gold, but platinum spoon in his mouth—and his little princess is entitled, too.

Because he gives you anything and everything you ask for the moment the demand leaves your mouth, dotes on you hand and foot, absolutely adores you, lavishing you in the finest silks and prettiest lace, always indulging you just as much as he indulges himself—as much as he has always been indulged, growing up filthy rich.

Because you weren’t always like this; or, at least, you weren’t always this brash about it.

But years of getting exactly what you want, exactly when you want it, has forced your attitude to change, to shift.

You haven’t changed, Satoru tells you one day, a tub full of melty ice cream in his lap as he shovels another spoonful into your mouth, waning sun bathing the penthouse terrace in translucent gold and coral, brilliant colours reflected in his crystal eyes. “I didn’t do anything—I simply revealed your true nature,” A devious little smirk spreads across his lips, eyes glinting in an almost ominous nature, and you shiver. “You’ve always been a selfish materialistic brat, haven’t you?”

Well, you guess he has a point.

And although you can—and do—get away with a lot, you can’t get away with everything. A little brattiness he can handle, a little brattiness he thinks is cute. But on the days when you’re really misbehaving, purposefully (or not) breaking every rule, acting out and refusing to listen, rejecting any bargain or compromise with him at all—well, he’s only human.

And he snaps.

It’s always something little, after a day full of disobedience, that does it, that finally lights the fuse and forces an explosion. Something that would normally be inconsequential, something he’d usually laugh off with a coo and a loving pat to your head.

Because you fought him on bedtime last night, then fought him on going to university this morning. You demanded pancakes for breakfast and when he denied them to you, because he’s got an important meeting in the afternoon and thus hasn’t the time to make them, you refused to eat anything at all—only to whine and bitch and complain about how starved you were for the entire duration of his conference. And yet, throughout it all, he was the perfect picture of patience, endlessly cool and nonchalant in his responses to your multiple tantrums.

Until you rushed into the kitchen in a famished frenzy, diving straight for the cookie jar and shoving three in your mouth.

“Sweets are not an appropriate dinner, baby,”

The words are sighed out in pure exasperation, his thumb and his forefinger pinching the bridge of his nose, lids shut tightly.

Eyebrows furrowing, you tilt your head in confusion, speaking around your mouthful. “Since when?”

His eyes snap open, blazing azure glaring at you with such an intensity it makes you flinch, cookie crumbs turning to ash in your mouth.

“Since forever,” he seethes, mask of impassivity finally beginning to break.

“What?” you laugh around the word, but it trembles. “What are you talking about? You rarely enforce that rule—especially since you don’t even follow it yourself!”

“It doesn’t matter,” he snaps, nostrils flaring with a particularly harsh exhale. “I am the boss, and what I say goes,”

“Daddy!” A sock-clad foot stomps against the marble floor as you whine out the word, arms crossing tightly over your chest. “That isn’t fair! You can’t just—”

“Enough with this attitude!” he snarls, moving like a crack of lighting as he lunges at you, lithe arms embracing you in an iron grip. “I can, and I will,”

And then he’s hauling you over his shoulder, one strong arm wrapped around you and pinning you draped over his body, delivering swift, harsh slaps to your ass every time you kick your feet or beat your fists against his back, while every whine and complaint earns you another spank in his mind, mentally tallying them up and vocalizing the thought a moment later.

“You’re being a meanie,”

“That’s twelve,” he growls.

“I don’t care!”

“Thirteen.”

“So what?”

“Fourteen.”

“That’s nothing,”

“Twenty-five.”

And that—that gets you to pause, but not to halt, not to stop, potent brattiness mixing with fury as it boils in your chest, the need to defy, to disobey, burning through your veins.

“I-I can handle that,”

“Thirty,” his voice is calm—serene, almost—and ice cold. There’s an underlying challenge sown into it, daring you to try him again, to utter another word. He’ll go higher, you can almost hear his apathetic voice floating through your mind; he’ll go as high as he needs to in order to teach such an ungrateful little brat a lesson.

Thirty it is.

The buckle of his favourite belt jingles as he undoes it, that dainty clink! forcing shivers to pebble across your naked skin, pressing your chest further into the foot of his bed, fingers curling in cashmere.

You’ve developed a love-hate relationship with that belt; it’s so fun when you get to undo it yourself, gentle fingers tugging and toying as you squirm eagerly in his lap, yet the clank and clattering of that heavy buckle as nimble fingers skillfully unfasten it and pull it from the loops of expensive trousers is almost menacing, carrying with it portentous threats it fully intends to see through.

He never warns you when the first strike is coming, reveling in the way your muscles are coiled in tension, in foreboding anticipation; basking in the surprised yelp that bubbles up in your throat.

“Relax,” he tells you with a callous chuckle, leather squealing between large, smooth hands as he folds it. “And count,”

It’s his usual response, predictable and scripted by this point, but he never seems to tire of it, notes of delight lacing his voice.

And that first blow never counts.

Gojou Satoru may be a bad Daddy by most standards, but his punishments are harsh, brutal, and cruel, and they happen to be one of the only things he takes seriously in life.

There’s rules to each of his punishments—so many rules he’s made you write them out multiple times, until your hand ached and fingers cramped and the heel of your palm was swollen, so they’d stick in that pretty empty little head of yours, so you never forget—and his spankings are no different.

You are not to move until he tells you to. You are not to speak unless spoken to. You are to count each lash, loud and clear before the next strike lands. Each mistake, each misstep and slip-up and refusal to comply, will earn you one extra slap. The tool is to be decided based on the severity of the offence.  

The belt, all rigid rawhide and sharp edges, cuts into the supple flesh of your ass with each easy, nonchalant flick of his wrist, abrasively snapping against you.

Each collision of leather against flesh sears a tingly sting into your skin, biting rapidly rising welts into your ass and sending spiky jolts of agonizing pain bolting up your spine, the pain fading to a dull throb for just a moment before another blow is delivered.

“Gorgeous,” Satoru murmurs to himself halfway through your punishment, the word nothing more than a little huff of breath. You don’t dare respond, simply crying out the next number as he lands another harsh blow to your abused skin. He doesn’t think he’s ever heard a more beautiful sound, he continues, voice appearing faint and far away, mingling with the combined symphony of the crack of leather and pathetic whimpers muffled by sheets.

“It’s incredible,” he says, louder this time, voice dripping with wonderment, as if he can’t believe he’s created such a magnificent piece—the streaks of blood staining once perfect, unblemished skin; the high-pitched whines and sharp cries of each subsequent number; the resounding slap of the belt against your bare ass that evokes it all.

The whole thing sends a surge of intense power rushing through his veins, the tingling buzz it leaves behind enthralling and invigorating. You don’t need to look at him to know this, don’t need to see the way his eyes shine with it, the way his chest heaves with it, the way his entire body trembles with it—you can feel it in the atmosphere surrounding you, can feel the shift as his ego saturates the air, as his pure superiority bleeds into it, dense and suffocating, stimulating and revitalizing.

It infects your body, seeping in through your skin and flooding your veins, re-instills the need to be submissive, the ache to be good, providing you with the strength to endure.

The punishment lasts for forty-five excruciating minutes, accumulating a total of thirty three spanks—the extra three tacked onto your original punishment of thirty, one for each time you broke a rule. He’s on you in less than a second the moment it’s over, belt dropping to the rug-covered floor with a distinct thump as soft, eager palms roam your sweaty body, lips crushed against yours, still trembling as they spill pitiful whimpers into his mouth.

The luxurious bedroom—all cream and gold and drenched in sunlight—is blanketed by backhanded praises, warning you not to be a brat and just take what he gives. He’s sadistic when he gets in moods such as these, a feral glint in crystal eyes as large hands hastily flip you over—so fast it knocks a gasp of his name from your chest—seemingly unconcerned about the fresh blood oozing from the thin swollen welts that embellish your ass staining his thousand dollar sheets.

“Daddy needs you now,” he growls when you try to protest, breathing erratic as fingers flex on your hips, squeezing and kneading before pressing down hard, a silent order to stay fucking put. “And you’re going to be a good little girl for your Daddy now, aren’t you?”

Of course. Of course, because you are a good little girl, his good little girl.

But he’s a bad Daddy.

And, like a bad Daddy, he defers aftercare—it can wait, he practically snarls as he drags you to the edge of the bed, folding your legs up on either side of your body, knees nearly nudging your jaw; and foregoes prep almost entirely—two slender fingers slipping between your slick folds, prodding your hole and deeming you wet enough to take him.

And you’d be lying if you said you didn’t absolutely love it when he gets like this, when that façade of indifference finally shatters to pieces, replaced with desperation, with urgency, with neediness.

Your head lifts from the plush mattress, neck straining a little as you watch him push his trousers down his thighs through bleary eyes, residual dewdrops of tears clinging to spidery lashes. His cock bobs a little as he kicks the pants off, and it’s just as pretty as he is, smooth and symmetrical and perfect in every way.

“This would be part of your punishment,” he pants out, speaking over your cry of discomfort as he begins to shove his cock into you, little cunt aching as it attempts to accommodate the sudden intrusion. “If you didn’t love it so much, fucking slut,”

“Daddy!” The pet name claws its way up your throat in a yelp, hands scrabbling against his shoulders, nails digging into his flesh through his Armani button-up in an effort to steady yourself, eyes squeezing shut against the severe burn that accompanies the stretch. “Gonna—Gonna tear me in half,”

“You’d think you’d be used to this by now,” Satoru muses, voice already returning to its apathetic playful lilt now that he’s half buried in your cunt, breathing already calmed. A malicious little smirk decorates his lips and he observes you as if awestruck, one of his hands moving to trace the curve of your cheek, cold fingertips soft against your scalding skin.

“So beautiful like this,” he whispers as he finally bottoms out, hips pressed flush against the back of your thighs.

And you are, fresh tears that glitter the way his eyes do in the waning sun streaming down your cheeks, leaving the prettiest streaks of salt staining your flesh; lips swollen from merciless teeth sinking into them, an attempt to silence yourself, to keep those whines and complaints of Stop, Daddy! and Hurts, Daddy! safely stored in your throat.

Your little hole flutters around him, still struggling to adjust to his girth, and his head droops forward, long tongue unfurling from his mouth to lap at the bitter water adorning your face, slow languid strokes from your jaw to your bottom lashes, replacing shimmering tears with viscous saliva.

Saccharine sugar stings your nose, sticky toffee bathed in decadent chocolate and garnished with a touch of vanilla enveloping you in a sickly sweet embrace.

Such a scent—his scent—starkly opposes the vicious snapping of his hips, setting a merciless pace from the very start, blunt nails biting deep half-crescents into your flesh as they hold you in place.

But the pain only heightens the pleasure, contradicting sensations clashing together with every one of his brutal thrusts, cashmere feeling as rough as sandpaper against your raw, wounded ass. Thorns of pain pierce through your abdomen and shoot up your spine, back arching off the bed, and the muscles in your thighs flex and clench with every slam of his cockhead against your cervix.

It’s potent and intoxicating, a heady exhilaration clouding your brain and flooding your veins, and soon there are tears leaking from your eyes again, dribbling into your mouth and mixing with strings of drool that coat the words you’re babbling out.

Blood rushes in your ears, procuring a deafening ring, and you’re not even sure what you’re saying anymore, voice vibrating indistinctly in your chest as saliva soaked mewls ooze from your mouth. Your Daddy’s staring down at you, condescension etched into his pretty features, eyes morphing from dainty crystal to the navy of a tumultuous sea, framed by strands of cream and ivory dripping with sweat.

And he’s so big, too big, stuffing you full to the hilt with each ruthless piston of his hips, mattress trembling beneath you from the sheer strength; and it’s so much, too much, you swear you can feel him in your tummy, can see the way your lower abdomen cutely bulges in synchronization with every pounding thrust.

You must say it in some way, in some shape or some form, because the patronization varnishing his features melts away, sharp smirk dissolving into a genuine grin, blue eyes lightening with pure adoration.

“Such a good girl,” you think he’s saying, through it’s hard to tell when your eyelids keep drooping, hard to hear when a symphony of broken moans and hitched whimpers and the sharp slapping of skin against skin blanket the room, reverberating off the walls of your skull. “You’re such a good, good girl for me,”

Yes, Daddy, you want to say, such a good girl for you, only for you.

“Y-Yours,” you manage instead, locking your arms around his neck and clinging to him.

“Mine,” he growls, possessiveness lacquering his eyes, brilliant and bright and shining with devotion. “That’s right, mine,”

It only takes another three thrusts before you’re gushing all over his cock, the intense spasming of your cute little cunt drawing the prettiest whines from the back of his throat as he rams into you.

“Beg for it,” he demands, and although it’s an order, it comes out more like a plead, desperation sown into his voice. “Beg for Daddy’s cum,”

You obey immediately, words spilling from your lips without a second thought, automatic and instinctual. Please, Daddy, gimme your cum? Please, please, pretty please, want your cum, Daddy, fill my belly with it, Daddy, I need it, need it so bad, please?

He gives you what you want only a moment later, cock throbbing almost violently as he fills you with thick, scalding cream—so much that you’re sure it’s dribbling out of you, trickling down your ass and onto his pristine sheets—and you roll your hips up, attempting to milk him for more.

“G-Greedy,” he pants out, but there’s a dazzling smile slapped across his face, and so much love in his eyes it’s nearly overwhelming, a fresh wave of tears casting a gleaming shield across your own.

He notices immediately, both of you wincing a little as he pulls out, a wrecked little whine escaping your mouth.

“My poor little princess,” he’s saying as he untangles his briefs—Balenciaga, this time—from his trousers, abandoned in a heap on the hardwood.

“Daddy,” you rasp, a frown marring his face, fingers encircling your ankles as he helps you unfold your stiff legs.

“I know, I know,” he’s murmuring as gentle hands pull the soft clothing up your silky thighs. “It hurts, I know baby, Daddy’s gonna make it feel better now,”

A shiver courses through your body, and he tuts, nimble fingers making quick work of the buttons on his shirt, shrugging it off before he hoists you up and drapes it over your shoulders, tenderly threading your arms through the sleeves.

It’s cozy, and warm, infused with his scent—melted sugar and expensive cologne—and you snuggle into it, weak arms pulling the material tighter around your body, swathing it in comfort. Tears prick your eyes again, blearily blinking them clear as you glance up to find him backing away. A noise of indignance sounds in the back of your throat, eyebrows knitting together as you make grabby hands for him.

“I’ll be right back, princess,” he reassures you as he laces your fingers together and allows you to pull him back towards you, voice soothing like a lullaby. Fingers trail along the curve of your cheek then trace the line of your jaw, palms smoothing hair back from your face. “Daddy’s just going to go get the first aid kit so he can clean you up, okay?”

“‘N then food?”

He coos with a little chuckle, cupping your head as he tilts it up towards him, eyes overflowing with fondness.

“Yeah, baby, and then food. Whatever you want, it’s yours,”

Gojou Satoru may be a bad Daddy, but he is also your Daddy, and that makes him the best Daddy.

[kaunis-sielu]

Sidelines: Injury

Thanks for the idea Nonny. Hope it’s okay I changed it a bit.

The Avengers score a touchdown so you move to your spot and when the music blares you do routine A7.

You love game day, you’d sent Steve a good luck text earlier, as you’ve started to do before each game. He usually sends one back wishing you luck too, something that you find more than a little sweet.

Hydra doesn’t make it to the other end of the field before there’s an interception and Steve heads back out onto the field. Watching him play is honestly so much fun, he commands the team like a general in battle and it’s obvious all of the guys respect him.

The Avengers are on their third down when they decide to go for it, you rustle your pom poms and watch as Bruce snaps the ball. Steve catches it easily but before he can let it go he gets absolutely pummeled by another player from Hydra. The whistle blows, but Steve doesn’t get up.

Fitz and Simmons the trainers come jogging onto the field and your heart is in your throat as you jog into the end zone with the rest of the team to draw some attention from what’s going on on the field. You plaster a smile on your face and tell yourself to focus on dance B2 and that he’ll be fine. When they bring the cart out onto the field you’re sure you’re going to throw up, he’s hardly moved since he was hit.

You do dance A9 and B3 before they have him off of the field. Fitz Simmons take Steve immediately to the locker room and all you want to do is follow him and check in.

“Hey,” Wanda says softly drawing your attention, “he’s gonna be fine.”

“Yea, I know.” You lie, you don’t know and you don’t love the fact that he hasn’t come back onto the field.

The game finishes and Steve isn’t back out on the field.

“Do you think it would be weird if I went to check on him?” You ask Nat as you change back into your street clothes.

“I mean it might blow your really bad act of not basically being a thing.”

“We’re just friends.”

“Right. Friends who are totally into one another and just need to bang and get it over with.”

“Nat!” You hiss and she laughs that deep throaty laugh of hers.

“Maybe I’ll just text him.”

“Or,” Monica mutters from her locker on the other side of Nat, “you could just wait until she’s gone and go see him.” You watch, moving slowly, as Peggy finishes getting ready and heads out with her best friend and cousin Sharon.

You give it another five minutes before you move out of the locker room and down to the trainer’s room. The door is open and Steve is laying on the table alone, so you gently tap on the doorframe. His eyes pop open and he gives you a little smile.

“Hey,” you feel like you’re intruding as you stand in the doorway.

“You can come in. Maybe shut the door too, the cheerleaders keep looking in here at me with pity.” You step into the room and close the door.

“How are you feeling?”

“Eh,” he says as he slowly sits up wincing slightly.

“Should you be sitting up?” You ask moving further into the room.

“You worried about me?” He teases but you respond seriously.

“Yes. I don’t like it when someone I care about is hurt.”

“It’s just a sprain, I’ll be good in a couple weeks.” You stop at the side of the table, “Sorry if it messes up your fantasy team.”

“I don’t have you on my roster.”

“Ouch.”

“I didn’t get first draft!” You protest and he chuckles.

“Who got that honor?”

“Frank. I’m still convinced he cheated.” You grumble, Steve tucks some of your hair back behind your ear and you’re fairly certain that you stop breathing.

“Would you have picked me if you had first pick?”

“Probably, Peter Parker is a safe bet too.” He chuckles softly.

“I like that you’re a straight shooter. I don’t have to guess what’s going on in that head of yours unless it comes to us.”

“Us?” you breathe and he nods. Before he can say anything else the door opens and Simmons comes bustling in with a wrap in her hands.

“Oh! Sorry!” She says and you move out of her way.

“Its good, I should get going.”

“He’s going to need a ride home.” She tells you and before he can stop you you nod and agree,

“Yea. I can take you.”

“Wheelchair or crutches?”

“Sweetheart Bucky can take me home.” Sweetheart?

“Doesn’t Bucky live on the other side of town?��

“Yea, it’s not a big deal though.”

“Don’t be silly. I can bring you.”

“You’re ready to go though, I still have to shower and change and everything.” You plop down in the seat and stare at him practically daring him to tell you to leave again.

“Steve?” Simmons says as he opens his mouth to argue with you. “Wheelchair or crutches?”

“Crutches.” She nods then grabs them out of the closet.

“Make sure he stays off it for the next couple of days.”

“Oh, we’re not, I’m not, we’re friends.” You stammer and Jemma smiles.

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell the Carter’s.”

“Um-“ is all you get out before she disappears again.

“I’ll be quick.” Steve promises and you just nod at him before pulling your phone out of your pocket.

Fifteen minutes later you hear him, it’s not like crutches are particularly quiet. You stand up and when he tries to be a gentleman and let you out the door first you glare at him and point. Steve chuckles then crutches through the doorway.

You drive him home in his truck, you’re tired but grateful you don’t have to go back to the stadium because you’d hitched a ride with Sarah and could just Lyft home.

“You can stay here.” Steve offers as a wave of exhaustion washes over you. “I have a spare room you can sleep in and you can call someone to come get you in the morning.”

“I really shouldn’t.”

“If I’m honest it would make me feel better if you didn’t ride home alone this late on a Saturday.” You study him for a moment then cave. This man.

Steve brings you up to the spare room then offers you a pair of sweats and a tee to sleep in. You’re asleep just seconds after you head hits the pillow.

🏈🏈🏈

This story is a series of one shots. They do not go in order. If you have any ideas for Steve and Cat please send them in.

Tag list:

@abschaffer2 @dsakita @dramadreamer14 @thesassmisstress @eralen @sophham @andahugaroundtheneck @loving-life-my-way @thefridgeismybestie @killcomet @dumblani @im-just-another-monster @mywinterwolf @scuzmunkie @biskwitmamaw @geeksareunique @paintballkid711 @lumar014 @also-fangirlinsweden @connie326 @inkedaztec @valsworldofcreativity @dontbescaredtosingalong

[epic-kotlc-crossover]

Charybdis

this has been stuck in my head for days

enjoy :))))

@thesfromhms @myfairkatiecat @bookwormgirl123 @ham-cheese-toastie @sombrathedragon

@justalunaticfangirl

Fitz must’ve been rowing for days on end, and he was honestly getting sick of only seeing the sea. Endless water, water, rocking, and more water. He squinted into the distance, trying and hoping to see Ithaca.

Nothing. Fitz sighed. There had been nothing for ages, and doubt was growing in the back of his mind that—wait.

In the distance—was that Ithaca? Ignoring his screaming arms, Fitz rowed faster and faster. Full speed ahead, he told himself. You’re so close. He could hardly keep a wide grin off of his face. Twenty years.. Twenty years and he was home. 

As Fitz neared the island, he noticed something really weird. Instead of slowly making out beaches and people and ships, the mass stayed dark. In fact, it almost looked…

Animal. 

All of Fitz’s excitement disappeared in one fell swoop, and he quickly stopped rowing, hoping it hadn’t noticed him.

For a few tense minutes, he waited with his breath stuck in his throat before deciding to start moving again. He couldn’t afford to go around and lose track of the direction he’d been moving in. The sun was just peaking in the sky; it would be hours before he could see the north star again and who knows how far off track he’d be by then? 

As he grew closer, the creature noticed him, and lifted its head up, revealing a large, circular, mouth with thousands upon thousands of teeth. 

Charybdis. “You must be who Hermes mentioned!” Fitz called out. “A monster here to block my way.” It let out a roar, and dived into the water, narrowly missing Fitz. 

Row, row, row. He gritted his teeth, heart pounding, and yelled again, “Bring it on!” As it lifted its head out of the water and aimed to strike again, Fitz rowed and pushed because he could not die now. Not when Sophie was so close. Not when Marella was right there.

“I know your tactics,” Fitz knew that talking out loud made him seem insane, but there was no one here to judge and it was honestly the only thing keeping him together. “When you swallow, you create whirlpools that attract your prey. But,” Charybdis slammed into the water once more, a little too close to comfort for Fitz. Shit. 

“If I avoid you for long enough, you’ll need to spit out all that water or it will destroy you!”

Whirlpool after whirlpool after whirlpool came and went, and Fitz could feel a bout of nausea coming up. Charybdis let out one last scream and a geyser of water shot out of its mouth. It collapsed into the water, drenching Fitz and his boat.

He collapsed, finally, into his boat and laughter bubbled out of him. He dragged his hands over his face, the salt stinging his eyes. He was done. Fitz could go home.

Fitz braced himself on his elbows, and looked over the sea. In the distance..

There was an island. There was Ithaca. He could go home.

[neovisioned]

♡ꜜ out of my league﹫mark lee

out of my league - fitz and the tantrums

pairing : mark x reader (f)

genre : tiny angst, fluff, smut with some plot, bestfriend!mark, college!au, best friends to lovers.

warnings : weed, making out, fingering, unprotected sex, praising.

word count : +4k

synopsis : your best friend Mark Lee tells you all the things he believed, you were always out of his league.

Mark Lee has been in love with the same person for as long as he could remember. It's something he took some time to understand, days to wrap his head around. 

Where do you draw the line between deep friendship, platonic love between friends and a connection running deeper, a love that seeks more than the label "friends" ?

Laying on your bed, his right hand throws a tennis ball in the air, easily catching it while his left hand hold the rolled up paper between two fingers.

It's a shame, the smoke he's blowing out of his lungs is probably sticking to your bed sheets, ones he noticed you washed the moment he dropped his body on your bed.

Soft rose fragrance, traces of an exotic fruit he can not pin point, though Mark is sure he could recognise the perfume of your detergent between thousands of others.

Heavy sigh, smoke escaping his lips like a dragon dissolving in the air, heavy eyelids closing in front of his brown irises. He really should stop smoking, Mark thinks. It's a black hole in his wallet, it is not that good for his health and fuck, does it makes his mind wonder.

Correction, Mark should stop smoking around you. Because, whenever he does, his mind might search in the deepest, darkest folds of his brain for a new topic, he'll always, forever, come back to you.

Mark Lee has been in love with you for as long as he can remember.

It's something he's been aware of for some years now. It's crazy how he can pinpoint the moment his mind clicked, the moment he put two and two together. He can still visualise the moment his heart went from a friendship he'd die for to a love he'd die for, one so strong he, himself, was dumbfounded by his years long blindness. 

It happened right before prom, second to last year of high school. Mark Lee remembers when you stepped out of your father's car (he doesn't trust any other boy but Mark, he insisted on driving you to your school's dance).

Pretty deep blue dress, it's his favourite colour on his favourite person. You did not do anything special to your hair, only added a bit more makeup. Though, it's not your appearance that made everything click, you've always been pretty, it wasn't the first time your friend noticed.

Rather, it's when your date shows up. It's when one of the school's popular kid shows up and makes you dance that he understands. He wants it to be him so bad. He wants to make you twirl, he wants to make you laugh.

Mark understands it isn't just him being mad that you're not answering your phone, it's love. Jealousy, green monster eating away at his heart when he wonders if you're still with him, it's a hand tightly wrapping around the muscle when he wonders if you're going to fall into someone else's arms.

Mark remembers it, it was five years ago. Late summer night where he stayed on his phone for too long, love sick kid scrolling through pictures and pictures of his prom waiting for a text from his best friend.

He didn't say anything, maybe Mark was a bit of a coward, and you were out of his league.

“Mark ?”

From all the things you best friend loves about you, if he had to pick, it'd be the way you say his name. No matter the intonation, no matter the context, the men loves the way it sounds coming out of your lips.

He thinks he won't ever get enough of it, it's intoxicating, makes him think he has the prettiest name after your own. 

Eyelids slowly open, tired smile stretching his lips. You're steading in front of your bed, freshly showered, hand turning your small projector on. 

“Hm ?”, he doesn't bother answering with words, humming softly. His head turns to the side, following your movements around the bedroom he knows like the back of his hand.

“This one or...That one ?”, you ask, playing with your remote to show your best friend two animation movies you both saw too many times.

“First one.” You've noticed over time, his voice always gets deeper when he smokes, brown eyes always get a shade darker. 

“Alright, baby chose.”

Ah, correction. If there's one thing that Mark loves, it's the pet names you give him. So natural, honey filled, he wished you meant them. 

Baby, babe, darling. He loves it all, he wants it all, he wants you all. 

Unaware of his thoughts, you finally crawl up next to him, the shirt you're wearing as your pyjamas riding up, Mark takes another hit at that. 

Familiar sound of Netflix resonates in your room as you take yet another remote and turn your lights off, before gesturing towards your friend. You're not an avide smoker but, you infale the smoke a few times before giving the rolled up paper back to the brunette. 

Mark knows what's about to happen, whenever your movie night has a bit of green, the movie gets long lost behind while you two would rather speak about anything and everything. After years of friendship, you'd think you two would've took and turned every subject under the pale moon but, Mark definitely did not expect this. 

Hands free, he crushes the cigarette on the special painted bowl you have for him, Mark also loves the way you have some things for him on your house as if he lives with you. 

Your right hand is quick to find his left hand, an old habit your have. Your fingers stretch against his own, comparing sizes like kids flirting, swinging your hands from left to right. Your arm easily gets tired by holding your hand up in the air like this, but the warmth of Mark's hand and the way his fingertips rough by his guitar strings brush against your palm every now and then feels like home. 

“How do you know when you're in love ?”, your voice's soft, mindlessly humming to the song in the animation movie Mark chose. Is that the topic you decided to bring up...? Mark's hand stays still for a moment, following your own hand's movement as he thinks for a while. 

“Don't give me that “You just know” bullshit.”, you mumble when he stays quiet for a bit too long. 

“But I think you do, just know. I think it's different for everyone.”, he starts, speech slightly altered by the green herb intoxicating his mind. 

“How is it... For you ?”, you ask. See, you know Mark had some crushes here and there, but you don't think he has ever been in love or, at least, he never told you. 

“It's... Loving the way they say your name, wanting to be with them as much as possible. It's... Craving to be as close as possible.” and unconsciously, his fingers wrap around yours. 

“It's finding happiness in their joy, sharing their sadness. It's small things like memorising the perfume they wear and what food they dislike.”

The brunette stays quiet for a moment, heavy eyes look upon your locked hands in the darkness, chest light, mind foggy. 

“It's them feeling like home.”, he finally says. 

Mark smiles to himself, you do feel like home, you make everything feel like home. From the way you have a pillow and the way you keep a toothbrush for him, to the way you always feel so warm and safe. 

Thankfully for you, the lack of light hides the small blush creeping on your cheeks. 

Mark doesn't know, you've been in love with him for years, though you've been aware for a bit longer. His confession takes your breathe away with a heavy sigh, you squeeze his hand. 

“I was in love with you.”

Was, you take the safe route as the words fly out of your mouth before you can even understand. Even if he's shocked, you can play the past card. 

“I was in love with you too.”, silence doesn't last long as Mark let's out as well, eyes on the movie even though he isn't paying any attention : his favourite line just played and he didn't even let a giggle out. 

The words make your ears ring, skin burn red, heart beat against your ribcage. He was too...? He was. He isn't anymore. 

“Why didn't you tell me ?”, you breath out, turning to the side. You use an elbow to support your body, you dare look at your best friend's face. 

It's crazy how he still have the still has the same baby face you've always known, the same pretty eyes and the same smile, his jaw got sharper with years and voice deeper and yet, he's still the same. He's home. 

Mark, him, doesn't dare look at you for a second. Before he does, soft eyes looking directly into yours. Why didn't he tell you ? He knows why, he has a list of reasons why and another list of reasons why he should've told you he'd rather not think about right in this moment. 

“You're out of my league.”, he breathes out. You can read your best friend like a book, you know he is not joking when he tells you so. And yet, you can't wrap your head around the idea. 

“I— What, no !”, you're almost whispering and screaming at him at the same time, getting up to sit on your knees. He was out of your league, he has always been, you never—.

“You were—. You are out of mine.”, you tell him, almost dumbfounded. For a split second, it feels like someone's finally giving you the dream you've always wanted and, the moment it touches your hands, it slips through your fingers. 

Can you be nostalgic of something you've never even experienced ? And yet, your mind grabs onto a single thing. Present tense, you're still out of his league, he still thinks so. 

In his semi-high state, the brunette chuckles out, as dumbfounded. 

You wonder if there are feelings still unknown to humans because this, the pull you're feeling at the strings of your heart and the lump in your throat combined to the angering heat taking over your body aren't emotions you're used to feeling at the same time. 

“Hey, what's wrong ?”, your best friend asks, an arm wrapping around your neck to pull you closer. You're sure it's supposed to be for hug, one you'd happily accept if you weren't in this very situation. Both forearms stop your body from colliding against his, Mark frowns. 

In another situation, he'd be able to read you like an open book and, maybe he's thankful he isn't completely sober right now. If he wasn't slightly high, he'd be as red. 

“Are you...Are you still in love with me ?”, you ask. It's almost a whisper, one Mark is sure he would've caught if it wasn't for the almost silent scene going on in the long forgotten movie. 

Is he still in love with you ? Yes. His mind screams a loud, obnoxious yes. His body screams another loud and obnoxious yes and yet. Yet, Mark stays silent for what feels like minutes. He knows he is, he's sure of it, he doesn't know if he should say it. 

Yes, yes, yes. 

“Yeah.”

To be in love with your best friend, to confess your love after years, decades, even. 

Such a simple word and yet, it hangs in the air, you can almost make it out in the slight darkness of the room. When Mark has the ability to put words on how he feels, you can't put anything on what goes on in your brain and body when he says the simple truth. You think your heart might fall out right into your best friend's hand, if he did not already have it. Your mind twist the word again and again just to find a fault, a break, a rupture. 

There isn't none, he's in love with you. 

There's another few seconds where you stay silent. You decide actions speak louder than words. Where Mark pulled you into a hug, you pull him into a kiss you've been craving for years. 

Carnal need sleeping deep in both your minds, it doesn't need much to be awakened, burning a fire louder than hell's. Your lips touch his. Its shy, hesitant but, when Mark's arm tighten around your neck, no words need to be spoken. 

The sweet, innocent, childlike kiss turns desperate in matter of seconds. Your best friend pulls you closer, closer, closer. He catches your leg between his, pushes your chest against his to the point where you can feel his heart hammering.

Lips move in harmony, common rhythm is quickly found and, you whine the moment he pulls away.

“Tell me.”, he breathes out against your lips, it's a desperate plea for something he had been waiting to hear, something he thought he'd never hear. “Say it.”, it's demanding, greedy. You give in easily.

“I'm in love with you.”

There's a weight pulled out of your chest, you'd chant it again and again if you could. You'd scream in if you could, you'd breathe it against his skin.

The brunette pulls you into a bruising kiss, he pours his soul out, hand cupping the back of your neck.

If this is a dream, Mark is determined to not let it go. Using his body at his advantage, positions are reversed, the brunette quickly towards over you. You switched you could turn the light back on but, the colourful lights of the movie dance against his jawline and shine against his wet lips, you decide your best friend looks like a painter's muse.

“There hasn't been a single day where I haven't thought about you.”, he breathes pretty words against your skin, taking his lips from your mouth to your jaw. It's loving, deep kisses, each to mean something.

“There hasn't been a single day where I haven't thought about being more to you, wished we were more.”

More, more, more. You want more too, you need more too. You refuse to let go now.

“We can be, we can.”, it's frantic. You cup his face with your hands, bringing him closer. “Spent nights thinking about what we could be.”

It makes flowers bloom in his chest, he isn't able to take his lips away from your skin. The tip of his nose digs in your cheek, he inhales deeply. Oh, how he loves the soap you use.

“What did you see ?”, he asks, lips peppering kisses down your neck, hand gripping your shirt. You're quick to pull it up above your hips. First wanting to completely pull it off your body, it seems the brunette isn't patient enough.

His lips leave your neck to your tummy, butterfly kisses here and there until he stops to your panties.

“Us. Together. Living tog—.”

Your sentence's quickly cut off by your best friend, maybe a lot more now, pressing his tongue flat against the fabric of your panties.

If you weren't aware of how wet you were getting, you sure were now.

“Living together, yeah ?”, he asks, bringing his face closer to yours again right after disregarding his shirt somewhere. There's a few seconds where you pose, shamelessly taking in the men's figure. 

Forehead against yours, his digits run along the line of your underwear. He's as nervous as you are, as shaken up as you are yet, you two have never been more certain of one thing that doesn't need to be said anymore.

Mark bites down on his lip, you almost hear tje mechanism in his head twisting and turning to find the right way to ask you.

You beat him at it anyways, nodding as your arms wrap around his neck.

There's one thing you'll never tell him, you spent night dreaming about a future and other were filled with thoughts of his fingers.

The guitar player had pretty hands, even prettier when they wrapped around the neck of his guitar or when he picked as some strings.

“'was too scared to tell you.”, he says and, you'd tell him you know. You know exactly how it feels, the fear of rejection by the one you've know you're entire life. You'd tell him it doesn't matter now that you now if you could. 

His fingers stop you from articulating right, index and middle finger greedily collecting the wetness between your folds, the brunette doesn't wait much longer before pushing two digits in. 

“I—Mark.”, there it is, a moan of his name that intoxicates Mark more than any other drug. Pupils grow wide, ears greedy to hear more. It's him, him managing to make you moan so softly in the dead of the night, him that has you wrapped around his finger. 

“Fuck, say my name again.”, it's another desperate plea, say his name again so he knows it isn't a vivid dream he's going to wake up from, say his name until it's the only thing rolling out of your tongue. 

You easily oblige when he starts moving his fingers, slowly yet, in a way that quickly had you gasping for air.

There's nothing rough in his actions, expect from the way his teeth gaze at the skin of your neck before softly biting down just to sooth to spot with his tongue afterwards. 

It's agonising, like he wants to make sure he maps out your body to remember it perfectly after tonight. His fingers curl and drag against your walls, he remembers how and where. 

His free hand creeps under your raised shirt, quickly finding your chest as his mouth finds your again. 

There, he catches every sweet sound you make like he doesn't want any body else to hear them, tongue tastes yours as they lazily battle. 

“Shit, baby. Just like that, god.”, when you think Mark couldn't get any better, his fingertips brush against a spot that has your hips raising up, slowly rocking against his hand. 

“Right there ?”, you nod frantically as he does it again and again, lazily fingering you whilst he lets your hips grind against his digits. 

“So fucking pretty.”, it's a murmur once he detaches his lips from your own, wet and red by the exchange. 

It's not the first time Mark calls you pretty but at this very moment, it's different. 

His wrist twist the right way just as he's about to pick the pace up and the familiar feeling grows alongside the flower blooming in your chest as Mark whisperes sweet nothings into your ear. 

He can feel it, the way your walls clench around his fingers, it has his cock throbbing in his sweats. Carnal desire to feel you wrapped around him as his fingers speed up until you come undone around them. 

It's a mess of his name and profanities you hope your neighbours aren't hearing. 

“Want more, want you.”, you babble once you come down from your high, sweat collecting around your hairline, chest irregularly raising up and down. 

When Mark seems to take too long to process your words, you take matters into your own hand. 

A moment, Mark struggles to find his words and the other, his back hits the bed with a soft gasp. 

He's quick to raise with his elbows, almost having whiplash when you sit down on his lap after taking off your ruined and soaked panties. 

“Let me help you with that.”, there's a slight shyness in your voice Mark decides he'd die for when your clumsily work on the strings of his grey sweats. 

Unspoken words, soft silence when you look into his eyes and help him push the fabric down his thighs. The air is thick, your heart beats harder and harder, your chest swells when Mark pulls you closer by your hips. 

“I've been in love with you.”, he starts as you raise, lining your core with his hard member, one your eyes lingered on before he opened his mouth. There's a pause, your lips part as to say something when you slowly sit down, but no sound comes from your mouth when Mark's leaking head pushes inside. 

“For so— so fucking long.”, he uses the last bits of air in his lungs to let it out, voice cracking when you sit inch by inch. 

You wonder how you went so long without telling him, telling him you love him feels too good to take it back or ever again. There's a slight part of you wondering where you'd be right now if you told him sooner but you're quick to push it away. 

Both hands cup his face as you bring him closer for a kiss as you fully settle on his lap, though the exchange doesn't last long. There's a beautiful groan coming from the men in front of you just as you moan out from the sensitivity, the fulness. 

Mark's red lips fall open the moment you start moving up and down on him, eyes rolling back the slightest bit like he forces himself to look at you as you ride him. But, when his groans turn into moans, the brunette hides his face in the crook of your neck, arms tightly wrapping around your waist. 

You don't think your can be any closer, chest against chest, your mouth to his ear as he mumbles about how you were made for him. 

Up and down, up and down, your legs start burning but you keep moving on top. 

“Fuck, I love you.”, it slips out when his hips meet yours halfway, not that you can say it, you swear you won't stop doing it at any given occasion. 

Mark answers my sucking on your neck, probably drawing blood as he more boldly snaps his hips against yours. 

You find the same desperation as when he was kissing you, carnal need wanting to be met, he fucks into you just like he means it, switching between deep and slow to fast and short snaps. 

For the second time, you feel it tighten, knot threatening to burst at any moment. If you aren't moaning, your mouth hands silently open and thankfully, Mark can tell you're getting close by the way you're clenching around him. 

“You're doing so good, so so good for me.”, voice almost unrecognisable, the way you can feel every vein and the way he pulse tells you he's as close, if not more.

“Come with me.” 

After years of tuning your body to his voice, it follows the command almost immediately, there's a few seconds where the brunette snaps his hips, slowly, deeply, right before letting a draw out moan against your neck. 

It's the last thing you hear, the way he moans you name breathlessly against your skin before you follow right behind, coming right around him like he hoped so. 

Moans and body against body sound abruptly stop for heavy breathing and soft whines, you blink a few times, forehead against Mark's baked shoulder. 

He smells like the apple shampoo he almost wears, he feels like home when his arms tightly wrap around your body and rock from side to side, almost lolling you to sleep. He feels safe, familiar, comfortable. 

And, right before you fall deep into sleep, you hear him slightly chuckle at his second favourite movie line. 

© NEOVISIONED l NO REPOSTING OR TRANSLATIONS ALLOWED.

[berrynarrybanana]

Me and You Together

A/N: Hello! I would like to say first of all that ^ is not my gif. I had it saved on my computer from somewhere and it just felt perfect for this. I do love my little sweet pea and frat boy Harry, but I also feel like I’ve done them dirty in this fic. I wanted to add more angst, but we all know I’m shit at that kind of stuff bc I’m soft at heart. Anywho, I really hope that you enjoy this and I just want to thank the lovely @stellarboystyles​ for putting together this little fic challenge. Congrats on 3 years babe! I hope that you like this story and that I have done this celebratory moment justice! 

Word Count: 11.9 k 

Warnings: Alcohol, smut, pining, Louis being a dickhead, a mean roommate

Trope: Best Friends to Lovers with Frat Boy Harry 

Prompt: “Just sit on my fingers. Yeah, just like that.” (this is all the way at the end tbh, just a heads up lol) 

P.s I know nothing about frat’s honestly and I just tried to avoid that the best that I could but fratboy!h lives in my mind rent free and I wanted to write it so....yeah.

September

Piper’s POV 

I rolled my head back on my neck, looking up at the ceiling as my roommate sighed. 

“Has anyone told you that you’re a selfish bitch?” Carli asked, her perfectly manicured nail resting on the cheap, wooden door of our dorm room. “I’m trying to unwind and relax after an extremely hard week and you’re ruining it for me.” 

“I live here too!” I felt my brows pull together in frustration as I adjusted my bag on my sore shoulders, shifting from foot to foot. “The least you can let me do is come in and change before you start fucking.”

“You’re killing my mood!” She groaned, holding her hand out. “Give me your fucking bag and tell me what you need.” 

“Carli-”

“Tell me what you need or I’m shutting this door in your face, I swear to god.” She snapped, her brows arching up as she wiggled her fingers at me. “You have five seconds.” 

“Fine!” I said, shrugging my bag off my tired shoulders. “I need my purse, a black t-shirt, and a jacket.” 

“Great.” 

She slammed the door in my face, flicking the lock as I brushed my hands over my face angrily. 

College was not supposed to be like this. 

The next four years of my life were meant to be spent making new friends and partaking in fun activities on campus. So far, the only person I knew was Carli and she most definitely hated my guts with a burning passion. I wasn’t sure why she hated me so much when I mainly kept to myself, hunched over my desk with headphones on for most of the night when I studied. I hardly ever talked to Carli besides the odd argument about my typing being too loud and my presence being too...obvious. I hated every second of college so far and this wasn’t helping me at all. 

I was moments away from having a breakdown, the build up creeping up my throat as I stood there in the hall, waiting for Carli as everyone else stared at my back. I tried not to let their prying eyes bother me, but I could feel the hairs standing up on the back of my neck as I crossed my arms over my chest. I tried to distract my mind, thinking about where I was going to go while Carli got her rocks off in our shared room. Maybe the library? Maybe a cafe?

Just as I started listing off cafes in my head, the door opened just a crack. 

“Here’s your stuff, don’t come home before midnight.” She stuck a hand out, her voice muffled by the door. I rolled my eyes, grabbing my things from her hands. “Bye, Pippi!”

“It’s Piper, you unbearable asshole.” I sighed, holding my stuff close to my chest as frustrated tears started to accumulate behind my eyes. “I hope you don’t have an orgasm.” 

I turned on my heels, ready to storm towards the communal bathroom so I could change and collect myself before leaving. I only made it halfway down the hall when I heard someone shouting behind me. I wasn’t sure they were actually calling out for me until I felt a hand on my shoulder. I stopped in my tracks, sniffling as I reached up to wipe at my cheeks. 

“Piper, hold on.” The girl who was calling my name stepped in front of me, letting out a shuddery breath. She only had eyeshadow on one of her perfectly shaped eyes and a makeup brush in her hand as she stopped. “I just wanted to say that I am so sorry your roommate just did that to you. You can use my room to change if you’d like? I know the communal bathroom doesn’t always offer the most privacy and my roommate is never home. I’ll stand outside and everything!” 

“You don’t have to do that.” I sniffled before offering her a forced smile. I wasn’t in the mood to deal with teasing right now. “But thank you.” 

“I insist.” Her brown eyes looked softer as she spoke, her hand falling to her side. “My name is Eleanor. I think we have Modern English together.” 

“Piper.” I said. “Are you sure you’re okay with that?” 

“Yeah.” She nodded. “I don’t mind it at all, babes.” 

Eleanor left me in her room to get dressed, politely standing outside as I collected myself. 

I took a few deep breaths, trying to compose myself as I stripped out of the blouse I had been wearing all day. I pulled my black t-shirt on, huffing when I realized that this wasn’t the one I actually needed. This one was meant for darker jeans and a pair of heeled boots. This top was meant for parties and bars, not a cafe. The criss crossed pattern was far too fancy for a late night cup of coffee and a lonely piece of cheesecake. 

When I opened the door, my old shirt bundled up in my hand, I smiled at Eleanor. 

She looked over my outfit, her eyes growing wide. 

“You look great!” She said. “Do you have plans tonight?” 

“I was just gonna go to Fitz and Co for coffee and dessert.” I gave her a nervous chuckle, clutching my old shirt in my hands. “Probably going to wander around campus after to kill time.” 

“Don’t take offense,” She gave me a sweet smile, her accent growing thicker with each word she spoke. I hadn’t noticed it all that much before when my emotions were on overdrive and my mind was swirling with anger. “But that sounds absolutely dreadful and you deserve to have a little bit of fun. It’s Friday night for fuck’s sake and we’re in Uni!”

“I don’t really know anyone on campus.” I shrugged. “I’ve not made a ton of friends yet, you know?” 

“I do, actually.” She nodded. “If I had to say, you’re the first person I’ve tried to make conversation with since I’ve been here. I’m going to a party tonight because my boyfriend’s frat is hosting it, and he’ll just text me all night if I don’t go.”

“That sounds like fun.” I said. “Thank you for helping me out and offering me your room. I really hope you have fun tonight."

“Why don’t you come with me?” She asked. “I know frat parties sound horrible after all the stuff you see in films, and a lot of them are pretty shit, but I would love to have a drinking buddy.” 

“I don’t want to impose.” I said. “I’m sure you want to spend time with your boyfriend.”

“Nonsense, he sees me everyday.” She shook her head. “I would love to have someone to chat with that isn’t one of his football friends from back home.” 

“Um, okay.’” I shrugged. “I guess that’s not too horrible and I kind of owe you one.”

“You won’t regret it.” 

                                         🥃🔸🥃🔸🥃🔸🥃🔸🥃

“So the house shouldn’t be too crowded.” Eleanor pulled her flannel tighter around her body, hunching over as the wind whipped around us. “A few of the guys are still out getting alcohol and people aren’t supposed to start showing up for another hour at least.”

“That’s good.” I nodded. “So why did you decide to come to school here?”

“Louis.” She said. “I couldn’t stomach the idea of being away from Lou and there are so many opportunities in America for both of us. He’s here on a footie scholarship and I’m here on a performing arts scholarship.”

“That’s really cool!” I exclaimed, my eyebrows raising up. “I didn’t peg you for a theatre nerd.”

“Just a tiny one.” She chuckled. “I’m more into the costumes than anything. Fashion has always owned my heart and my Mum took me to so many musicals as a girl. I figured I would combine my love for both and make it my career.”

“I admire that.” I said softly, glancing down at the sidewalk as we turned a corner. “So how long have you and Louis been together?”

“Four years.” She smiled. “We met on a holiday to London one summer and we’ve never let go of each other. Last year we went to the same University for our first year before deciding to come abroad and it was….magical.”

“He sounds lovely.” I said. “He makes you happy?” 

“He does.” She nodded, her lips pursing slightly as she tried to hide her smile. “He’s a proper gentleman, even when he’s being a bit too laddie.”

“I don’t even know what that means.” I chuckled and Eleanor joined in. “What is a laddie? Is that like Lassie, the dog?”

“Not like that dog.” She scrunched up her nose. “I think you call them ‘Bro’s’ over here.” 

“Ah, I do understand then.” 

Eleanor and I continued chatting as we walked down Frat Row. 

The houses were large, but they looked a little plain and rundown. I imagine having a group of rowdy, drunk boys living in a house without supervision didn’t do well for wear and tear on a house. Eleanor told me that the last house on frat row in the cul-de-sac belonged to pretty much the entire footy team with a few odd guys sprinkled in. 

When we arrived, my jaw nearly dropped to the ground. 

I was living in a tiny dorm room and these men were living like kings and a gigantic and modern house that looked brand new. Eleanor laughed as I took in the dark, blue-grey exterior. The shutters and the porch were both painted a dark, charcoal grey. We walked up the stairs and I continued to look around like a kid lost in a candy store. 

Maybe joining a sorority wasn’t a bad move?

“So, that is the living room and just down that first hall is the bathroom. I recommend going upstairs to Louis’ room if you want to use a clean and unoccupied bathroom.” She chuckled. “I’ll show you around upstairs later if you’d like.”

“This is the cleanest Frat house I’ve ever seen in my life.” I said slowly, looking around. “How is it so pristine?”

“A few of the guys are really obsessed with cleanliness and organization.” She chuckled. “Also I spend a lot of time over here, so I do what I can.”

“I would spend all of my time here, too.” I said. “Why are you even in a dorm if you could be here?”

“Rules.” She rolled her eyes. “Technically women aren’t allowed to be housed in a frat, which blows, but I understand it.”

“Well, I’ll pretend to be you and stay in your dorm if you want to fly under the radar and move here.” I teased, patting her shoulder. “It’s a win win for both of us.”

“I might take you up on that.” She giggled, guiding me through an open archway. “This here is the kitchen-”

“Ellie, s’that you!” 

Eleanor flinched at the booming voice from upstairs, her eyes casting up to the ceiling as she grumbled. 

“Bloody hell, these men,” She shot me a sympathetic look and I tried my best not to laugh softly at her annoyance. “Yes, Niall?”

“I need help.” This accent was slightly different than Eleanor’s and it almost reminded me of the guy on the lucky charms commercial. “I don’t know what trousers to wear, should I do these dark jeans or these plaid one’s.”

The voice was closer and closer with each word and suddenly, a half naked man appeared in the doorway, holding two pairs of pants as he looked down at them. He was wearing white boxer briefs and white socks, the rest of his pale and freckled skin on display. I had to admit that he was extremely attractive, chestnut colored hair on top of his head and a soft stomach rounded out with a matching chestnut happy trail dusting under his belly button. 

“Oh, hello.” He looked up, smiling at me with piercing blue eyes and extremely handsome features. I tried not to blush, my eyes glued to his. “Which one’s do ya think I should wear, love? Good to have an outsider’s perspective sometimes.” 

The sound of a door shutting behind us caused my head to snap around. 

This was more of a man standing at the opposite end of the kitchen, his chocolate colored curls framing his face and resting on his broad shoulders as he looked up at me. His face was perfect, adonis like features catching my attention and his bright green eyes causing my breath to catch in my throat. He offered me a small smile, his features soft as he cleared his throat. 

“Hello.” He said softly to me before his eyes darted up, looking behind me. “For fuck’s sake, Niall. Why are you nearly naked!” 

“I needed help!” I turned my head back towards Niall as his brows pulled together, his lips turning to a scowl. “I can’t decide what trousers to wear and Liam is no help!” 

“We have a guest.” The green eyed god spoke from behind me, but I didn’t dare turn my head. I was afraid that if I did, I would be stuck staring at him for the rest of the night. “Don’t be rude.”

I glanced over at Eleanor who lifted her hand to pinch the bridge of her nose. 

I tried, again, not to laugh at her misery. 

“I swear to god, Niall,” She sighed heavily. “The least you could do is introduce yourself to the poor girl before you flash her.”

“M’Niall,” He rolled his eyes, looking over at me. “What’s your name, love?” 

Harry’s POV

“My name is Piper.” 

I stared at the back of her head, trying my best not to think about running my fingers through her soft curls that nearly matched the shade of my own. I inhaled sharply as I pressed my fingertips into the marble countertop below me. I had seen this girl, Piper, around campus before. I saw her flitting from building to building with her head tilted down and her headphones tucked in her cute little ears. I had a huge crush on this girl and now she was standing in my kitchen with my half-naked roommate and my best friend’s girl. 

This wasn’t a good thing at all.

“S’nice to meet you, Piper.” Niall winked at her and I rolled my eyes, shooting him a glare over the girls head. 

His brows furrowed and I gave him a pointed look before mouthing, ‘That’s the girl’.

Niall’s brows lifted up and he shot me a cheeky grin. 

He was the only one I confided in about my girl troubles. 

He knew all about the mystery girl that I passed by every day on my way to physics class and he had suggested to me several times that bumping into her was the best way to catch her attention. I declined, rolling my eyes at his childish suggestion. I had to admit though, if she had been in my class, I would have tossed paper at the back of her head to get her attention. 

It was a trick that never failed. 

“Well, I’m gonna go get dressed then.” He cleared his throat, glancing over at Eleanor. “Lou is stuck on the phone with his Mum, babe. I think he might need some rescuing if he’s going to join the party at all tonight.”

“Oh,” Eleanor stood straighter, glancing over at Piper. “I don’t want to leave Piper-”

“I can stay with her.” I cleared my throat, reaching up to fiddle with my hair as both girls turned to look at me. “I’ve finished my part of party prep, so I don’t mind.”

“Harry, I don’t know.” Eleanor said. “I’m already afraid Niall’s neon white body is going to scare her off. I don’t need you turning on your Cheshire Charm.”

“Oi, I resent that.” I narrowed my eyes at her playfully, trying to fight off my smile as she chuckled. “I won’t be turning on any charm tonight, love. I’ve got a big match to play tomorrow, remember? Gotta save my strength and energy if I wanna do well.”

“Alright, fine.” Eleanor sighed, turning back to Piper. “Are you okay if I disappear for a few minutes? I promise I’ll be right back.” 

“It’s fine.” Piper smiled at Eleanor, gently nodding her head. “Please, go ahead. I don’t mind waiting down here.”

“You’re sure?” Eleanor asked, her face laced with concern. 

“Positive.” Piper glanced over at me. “I think I’m in good hands with ol’ Cheshire Charm back there.” 

My smile was so wide that it hurt my cheeks. 

She was funny and gorgeous.

Eleanor glanced between the two of us before saying a quick ‘be right back’.

“It’s nice to meet you.” Piper turned around, her hands pressing against the countertop as Niall wiggled his brows behind us. He disappeared behind Eleanor moments later, leaving Piper and I alone in the kitchen. “Would you like a Whiteclaw?”

“Oh, sure.” She nodded, her eyes dropping down to her hands. “I would love one.”

“You seem a bit nervous.” I said, walking towards the fridge. “Do you have a flavor preference?”

“No.” She said softly. “And yeah, I guess I am a bit nervous. I’ve had a pretty tough day and I wasn’t exactly prepared to come to a frat party.”

“Why are you here then?” I asked, my eyes scanning the shelves until I landed on the one filled with canned drinks. I reached for two lime flavored cocktails, pulling them out before I shut the door with my hip. “If you don’t mind me asking, that is.” 

“Um, Eleanor extended the invitation and I kind of owed her one.” Piper smiled, taking the drink with a soft ‘thank you’. “My roommate is a bit of a dickhead and she kicked me out so she could get laid. Eleanor saw me in the hallway on the verge of a mental breakdown and we just...hit it off, I guess.”

“Sorry your roommate was a dickhead.” I smiled, letting my eyes roam over the soft features of her face. “I’m glad you and El hit it off though. It’s nice to have a new face around here.”

I let my eyes trail over the features of her face now that she was up close and personal. 

Her eyes were hazel, a soft golden hue to her irises. Her brows were thick and wild, but perfectly shaped. There were soft freckles peeking out from under her foundation and her cheeks were a soft shade of red. Her nose was soft and rounded at the end and I couldn’t help but think of hovering over her, brushing my own nose against hers as I thrust into her. 

I hated being a man sometimes. 

She was a beautiful girl and even in my head she deserved better than to be thought of that way. She was more than just a sexual object and she didn’t need some creepy frat guy thinking dirty thoughts about her only moments after meeting her. I cleared my throat, reaching for my drink. I took a long sip as she raised her brows, offering me a sly smirk as she sipped at her own drink. 

“Eleanor is a really sweet girl.” I rested my can on the marble countertop. “She’s been having trouble making friends over here, so it’s nice that she’s found someone to hang out with besides us.” 

“I really like her.” Piper said softly. “I’ve been having trouble making friends, too. I’m not really the best at putting myself out there, you know?”

“I think you’re doing just fine.” I flashed her a reassuring smile, noticing how her cheeks turned a shade darker. “I don’t think I’ve fully introduced myself, love. I’m Harry.”

“I’m Piper.” She held her hand out and I took it, giving it a soft shake. “It’s nice to meet you, Harry.” 

Her skin was so bloody soft, her hands a little cold and damp from the can she was holding. 

“You too.” I said. “If you need anything tonight, please don’t hesitate to find me. I know how overwhelming these parties can be and I’ll be happy to keep you company or walk you out for some fresh air if you need it.” 

“Thank you.” She said softly. “The same goes for you. If you need any company tonight, I’m your girl.” 

Just like that, my mind was back in the gutter. 

All I could hear in my head was the echoes of her sweet moans, her voice chanting over and over again ‘M’your girl, Harry. Yours’. I cleared my throat, giving her a tight smile as I tried to avoid thinking about her tucked in my sheets, writhing and gasping as I licked into her. 

I was so totally fucked.

                                        🥃🔸🥃🔸🥃🔸🥃🔸🥃

“Piper, babe,” I laughed, holding her hips tightly as she swayed. “I think we should sit you down for a minute, yeah?”

“If I sit, I’ll sleep.” She whined, looking up at me with her sweet puppy dog eyes. “Where did Eleanor go?” 

“Eleanor is going upstairs with Louis.” I said softly, digging my fingers into the fleshy skin above the waistband of her jeans. “Do you want me to take you home?”

She pursed her lips, shaking her head as she pressed her hands into my shoulders. 

I knew exactly how we’d gotten here. 

The party was still going strong around us, people dancing and shouting as Piper swayed in front of me. I wanted so badly to brush her hair from her face and stroke the soft skin of her cheek, but I would never do something like that when she was this off her face. Holding onto her hips was already too intimate for my liking, but I was afraid she would topple over without some form of support. She swayed forward, her eyes face pinching up ever so slightly before she pressed one hand to her forehead. I frowned, pulling her closer as a group of guys rushed by.

If Niall hadn’t suggested we play four drinking games in a row, Piper and Eleanor might not have been off their faces within the first two hours of the party. I had to admit that I didn’t exactly mind taking care of Piper. She was a funny drunk, silly puns and snide comments slipping from her lips carelessly as she leaned against me. It was when her eyes started to drift shut and her body started to sway, that I started to worry about her. I pulled her into the kitchen alongside a giggly Eleanor, handing them both bottles of water while I quickly cooked up some pizza rolls that Niall had hidden in the freezer. Both girls ate between loud laughs, knocking into each other as I watched them with a small smile on my face.

 Seeing Eleanor happy made me happy, but seeing her happy with the girl of my dreams made me feel like I was on cloud nine. 

“Mate,” Louis’ hand clapped down on my shoulder and I turned my head as Piper’s body fell into mine. “I can take her off your hands. El told me they live in the same halls-”

“She can barely stand on her own, Lou.” I shook my head, glancing down as she rested her head on my shoulder. “Gonna go put her to bed in my room. I’ll sleep on the couch after everyone is gone.”

“Lock the door if you leave her up there.” Louis said. “I’m going back up to El in a minute, but I figured I should get some painkillers and water for the morning.”

“Bring some up for Piper?” I asked him. “I probably won’t leave her alone in there, knowing all of these jackasses are around.”

“Tell me about it.” Louis snorted out a laugh, shaking his head. “I’ll be up in five.”

I nodded, watching him disappear through the crowd of people in our living room. 

“Hey, love,” I said softly. “Gonna take you upstairs and tuck you in, okay?”

“Kay.” She mumbled, turning her head until her nose brushed against the column of my neck. 

I made a mental note to have a talk with her tomorrow about going places with strangers when she was drunk. I knew that I meant no harm, but we were still getting to know each other. It set off a level of worry that I only ever felt when it came to my Mum or Sister. It was almost a primal need to protect, my arms winding tightly around her as I guided her to the stairs. 

It was no easy feat to get her up the staircase, but when we finally made it to my room, she snapped into a more alert mode. She looked up, her tired eyes growing as wide as they could before she brushed some of her hair out of her face. She looked up at me, her eyes searching my face as I pressed my hand lightly to her lower back. 

“Thank you for taking care of me, Harry.” She said softly. “I’m really sorry I’m ruining your fun.” 

“Nonsense, love.” I shook my head. “S’just another party, there will be plenty more.” 

“Still.” She mumbled. “I don’t want to take your bed. Sleeping on the couch is bad for your back and I overheard that you have a match tomorrow.”

“S’alright.” I said. “I’ve slept on a floor before a match and still kicked ass, Piper. I don’t mind giving my bed up for a good cause.”

She let out an aggravated sigh, rolling her eyes at me. 

I tried not to smile as she grumbled under her breath, reaching for the doorknob to my bedroom door. I followed in behind her, flicking the light switch on before I shut the door behind me. Piper staggered a little and I hovered, my hands waiting to catch her should she fall. Instead, she stumbled over to my bed on bambi like legs, collapsing on the foot with a soft groan. 

“You need some help?” I asked her as she lifted her leg, struggling with her shoe. She merely waved her hand at me, shaking her head. “You want something comfy to change into? I’ve got sweats, shorts-”

“Sweats sound lovely.” She mumbled, a soft ‘aha’ falling from her lips as she finally tugged the shoelace of her boot out of a knot. “You’re a true gentleman, has anyone ever told you that?” 

“My Mum.” I chuckled, walking over to my dresser in search of comfy clothes. 

“S’good,” Piper sighed out as her boot hit the floor. “Hard to find a proper gentleman these days, Harry. I think Jude Law was the last of them.”

“I won’t argue with you there.” I shook my head, trying to contain my laughter as I sifted through my sweatpants. I settled on my favorite pair, the light grey fabric soft and worn. “Do you want a t-shirt to sleep in or a long sleeve shirt?”

“Um, t-shirt.” She mumbled. “Your room is lovely. Did you do all of the decorating yourself?”

“I did, yeah.” I nodded. “Brought a few key things from home, but I spent most of my money in Target when I got here.” 

“Amen to that.” She hiccuped softly. “I like your record player. I’ve always wanted one of those.”

“One day you’ll have to come up and listen to some records with me.” I glanced at her over my shoulder, noting how the corners of her lips ticked up into a girlish grin. “What kind of music do you like?”

“All of it.” She said simply, her voice trailing off. “I’ve always been a fan of classical music for studying. My mom calls me a psychopath.”

“They are known for indulging in the genre.” I snorted, pulling out a white t-shirt before I turned around. “I think that’s lovely, though. I’ve heard some good stuff from Bach in my music theory class and I have to say, it makes for good studying music.”

“That’s what I’m saying.” She said. “I love me some cello, mate.”

“Look at that.” I hummed out, holding the clothes out to her. “Got you talking like a proper brit now, don’t we. Didn’t even know what footy was at the start of the night.” 

“Piss off.” She grumbled, trying to hide her amusement as she mocked my accent. 

“I’m gonna run to Louis' room while you get dressed, okay?” I said. “Gonna steal you some makeup wipes from El’s overnight bag so we can take your makeup off. I want you to lock the door and don’t open it for anyone besides me. I don’t care if it’s Niall or god himself, alright?”

“Alright.” She whispered softly. “You’re really fucking nice, Harry.”

I tried to resist the urge to brush my knuckles over the soft skin of her cheek, but I couldn’t. 

I inhaled sharply as she closed her eyes, leaning into my touch with a soft hum. 

“I’ll be right back.” I said softly. “Lock the door.”

                                        🥃🔸🥃🔸🥃🔸🥃🔸🥃

Piper’s POV 

Falling in love with Harry took me all of five minutes. 

I decided that it was physically impossible not to love someone so perfect. He was a real gentleman, keeping his hands in respectful spots even when I was falling all over him, drunk off my ass. I felt a little guilty about being so touchy-feely with someone I hardly knew, but I was comfortable around him from the start. He stood by my side for most of the night, talking with Eleanor and I as we tossed shots back like water. 

I stood up from the foot of his bed, fiddling with the button on my pants. My vision was most definitely blurry and my fingers were shaking as I swayed on my feet, but I managed to pull the button from the loop before I shoved my pants down my legs. It took a bit of wiggling to get my ass settled into Harry’s sweats, an article of clothing clearly meant for a man with no….assets. 

With a soft hiccup, I worked on my shirt, tossing it to the ground before I reached behind me to take off my bra. My drunk brain didn’t care about etiquette or embarrassment anymore. That all flew out the window with my third shot of tequila that Niall handed over. When I settled the fabric of Harry’s shirt over my tired limbs, I heard a soft knock at the door. 

I stumbled over, pressing my ear against the wood to hear who was there. I was plastered, yeah, but I remembered Harry’s speech about not opening the door for anyone. 

“Who is it?” I called out, my voice breaking just a little. 

“S’me.” I heard Harry’s gruff voice. “S’Harry.” 

I flicked the lock on the door, opening it up with a soft smile. 

Harry held up some makeup wipes and a bottle of water, flashing me a cheesy grin. I laughed, shutting the door and flicking the lock behind him again as he walked into his room. When I turned around, my arms crossed over my chest, he was looking at my body with soft eyes. 

“Everything feel comfy enough to sleep in?” He asked. 

“Yeah, thanks.” I nodded. 

“Alright.” He nodded, looking up at me with glassy jade eyes. “Let’s get you tucked in, shall we?”

I smiled, walking over to his bed. 

I picked the side farthest from the door and closest to the window. 

Harry pulled back the covers, waiting for me to climb in before he rested them over my legs. He set the bottle of water on the bedside table, two painkillers falling to the wood next to the plastic bottle. He sat down next to my legs, ripping into the makeup wipes with ease. I watched him pluck a sheet out before closing the pack back up, tossing it to the nightstand with the other items. I rolled my lips in as he turned towards me, holding the cloth out. 

“Do you want me to do it?” He asked. “Just so you know it’s all gone?” 

“Yes, please.” I nodded. 

I could take my makeup off in my sleep. 

I’d done it before, actually. 

But there was something about being doted on by Harry that I wasn’t ready to give up just yet. 

I preened as he wiped the cloth over my skin with gentle strokes, swiping away concealer and highlighter with ease. I let my eyes slip shut when he asked, his index finger gently brushing at the small bit of liquid liner and shimmery shadow on my lids. When it got to my lips, he did a few quick dabs before his touch was gone from my face all together. 

“All clean.” He smiled, tossing the wipe towards the bin in the corner of the room. “Alright, I’m going to tuck you in and turn on a movie. I’ll just be on the floor next to you if you need anything at all. Bathroom is through that door right there.”

“Don’t sleep on the floor.” I rolled my eyes. “I’m okay with sharing a bed with you, Harry. Friends do that all the time, don’t they?”

“But you’re drunk.” He said softly. “And I don’t want you to feel pressured or uncomfortable-” 

“I don’t.” I said. “From the moment we met, you’ve made me feel very welcomed and comfortable. I promise that I don’t feel unsafe or pressured in any way, Harry. If you feel more comfortable sleeping on the floor, then I understand, but I’m okay with you sleeping next to me.”

Harry reached up to rustle his long strands of hair, his curls flopping about as he looked at me with a curious gaze. He inhaled sharply, nibbling on his lower lip as I stared back at him with raised brows and an amused grin. 

“I’ll put a pillow wall between us and everything.” I said. “If it makes you feel comfortable.”

“I just don’t want you to wake up in the morning and freak out.” He said softly. “You’ve had a lot to drink and if you don’t remember any of this tomorrow, it might be a little scary to wake up with a strange man in your bed.”

“Well, it’s your bed.” I said softly. “And I’ve been worse off than this and still remembered what happened the night before, Harry. I come from a very small town where drinking is considered a sport. This is a regular Tuesday for me.”

“Alright.” He whispered through a breathy laugh. “But if you change your mind at any point through the night, feel free to kick me out of bed.”

“I won’t.” I rolled my eyes. “Get ready for bed, yeah? You’ve got a big day tomorrow and I can’t have you losing a match because of me. People will think I’m bad luck.”

                                         🥃🔸🥃🔸🥃🔸🥃🔸🥃

Harry’s POV 

When I woke up in the middle of the night, our pillow wall was gone. 

Piper’s cheek was pressed into her pillow, soft puffs of air escaping her parted lips as she tightened her grip on my shirt. Her hand was resting on my tummy and her foot was hooked over my calf muscle, but she remained on her side of the bed. I lay there for a minute, watching her peaceful face as she slept. I tried to commit her features to memory, my heart squeezing in my chest as she shuffled around a bit. I rested my hand over hers, softly brushing my fingers over her knuckles as her body moved just a little closer to mine. 

The dry feeling in my mouth pulled me from my peaceful moment, urging me to go downstairs for my own bottle of water. It was silent in the house, no more music pumping through the speakers downstairs, and I felt safe enough to leave Piper on her own in my room without the doors locked. I would only be gone for a few minutes at the most, running down for water before I ran back up to curl back up next to the sleeping girl in my bed. 

When I made it downstairs, Louis was already in the kitchen.

“Hey,” I grumbled, walking over to the fridge. “What are you doing up?”

“Same as you.” He said. “Thirsty.”

“Hmm.” I nodded. “Eleanor still knocked out cold?”

“Yeah.” He chuckled. “Love that girl to death, but she snores like a bloody chainsaw.”

“That she does.” I laughed, pulling a water bottle out. “I’m glad she’s got Piper as a friend. It was nice to see her unwind tonight.”

“It was.” Louis nodded, pressing his hip into the countertop. “Piper likes you.”

I nearly choked on my water as Louis looked up at me. 

“What?” I asked. “How on earth-” 

“It’s obvious, mate.” Louis rolled his eyes, an amused grin on his lips. “She’s got a bit of a crush on you, but what girl doesn’t?”

“Lou-” I said slowly, my eyes narrowing. “Why do I feel like you’re about to give me a speech.”

“It would break my heart if Eleanor lost her as a friend, Harry.” Louis said softly. “She doesn’t have anyone over here and I at least have you and Niall, you know? If she lost Piper because you two decided to fool around and things ended badly-”

“That’s not what this is.” I said quickly. “And I don’t appreciate what you’re trying to say, either. I would never hurt Piper, or anyone, on purpose. She’s a very sweet girl and it just so happens that I’ve liked her for a while.”

“You know each other, then?” Louis brows arched up and I sighed. “Wasn’t aware.” 

“We don’t know each other, but I’ve seen her around campus.” I mumbled. “Always had my eyes on her, Lou. She’s fucking gorgeous.”

“Harry,” Louis said softly. “I’m asking you as a friend, please don’t get involved.” 

“That’s a shitty thing to ask.” My voice was hoarse. “It’s late and we’re both still pissed. I’m going to bed.” 

“Just think about it.” He said, knocking his knuckles against the countertop. 

Lucky for Louis, it was all I could think about for the rest of the night.

                                         🥃🔸🥃🔸🥃🔸🥃🔸🥃

Piper’s POV 

When I woke up the next morning, I could feel Harry’s heartbeat against my cheek.

The annoying beeping of his alarm had me groaning and turning my face into his chest. I heard him mutter a soft series of ‘sorry’s’ before it turned off. Harry’s arm draped over my back, holding me against his chest as I closed my eyes again. I let out a soft hum as he brushed his fingers up and down my back, his chest rising and falling slowly under my head. 

“I see that we’ve lost the pillow wall.” Harry’s voice was deep and raspy, causing a shiver to run up my spine. 

“Sorry.” I whispered, lifting my head up as I pressed my palm to his chest. “I guess I tossed it aside in the middle of the night.” 

“You did.” He chuckled softly. “You pushed it down with your feet and then you pulled it out and chucked it because you were trying to get comfortable.” 

“You watched me?” I asked, blinking a few times to try and focus my vision as I rested my chin on the back of my hand.

“I felt you flopping around like a fish out of water and I had to check on you.” He said slowly, his own eyes still shut. “I fell back asleep and when I woke up for a wee you were snuggled so tightly against me that I could barely pry you off.”

“I didn’t know that I was a cuddler.” I mumbled softly. “I’ve never really slept in a bed with anyone else before.”

“Well, you can tick that box off of your bucket list.” He smiled, his fingers still brushing over my back as I looked down at him. “You staring at me?” 

“A little.” I confessed, a small smile creeping up on my lips. “Think you’re pretty.”

“Love,” He let out a breathy chuckle. “Easy.”

“What?” I asked, dropping my head back to his chest. “Why can’t I say you're pretty? We spent the night together, I’m allowed to compliment you a little.”

“Do you think it’s a good idea to flirt with me?” He cleared his throat, shifting around under me. I groaned, falling back to the pillow next to him. “Do friends flirt?”

Friends.

I should have known better. 

There was no way on earth someone like Harry would want to be with someone like me.

“Friends can call each other pretty.” I said dejectedly, turning on my side. “And friends can cuddle, too.”

“Well, if it makes you feel better, you’re an amazing cuddler.” He said softly, pressing his palm to my bicep as he leaned over to kiss my temple. “You’re welcome to sleep more if you’d like, but I would love to take you out to breakfast.”

“Breakfast?” I turned my head, looking at him with furrowed brows. “I thought you had a match this morning?”

“I’ve got a few hours.” He rested his body next to mine, his head falling on the pillow next to mine lazily. “Eleanor will be at the match.”

“I know.” I whispered. 

“You should sit with her.” Harry smiled. “I would like that.”

“Okay.” I said softly as he snaked his arm underneath my own, curling it around my middle. I tried to fight off a smile. “Thought we were getting up?”

“Few more minutes.” He mumbled. “You smell nice. S’that your perfume or your shampoo?”

“Probably both.” I smiled, resting my palm over his forearm. “Both sweet pea scented.”

“Piper.” He mused. “Sweet pea.”

“What are you mumbling about?” I asked, trying to contain my giggles at his sleepy rambling. 

“Gonna call you sweet pea.” He mumbled. “Because your name starts with a P and you’re so sweet.” 

Fuck being friends. 

I liked this boy.

And no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t ignore the fluttering feeling in my stomach. 

I was truly fucked.

                                           ⚽️🔹⚽️🔹⚽️🔹⚽️

December

Piper’s POV 

There were only a few seconds left in the match and our boys were killing it. 

Eleanor gripped my hand tighter as Louis shouted to Niall across the field. Seconds later, he was kicking the ball with the side of his foot. Harry was much closer to the goal, ready to land the winning kick into the goal. I looked at him, his chest heaving and his hairline coated in a thin sheen of sweat. His face was intense and it made my thighs clench ever so slightly to see him so serious. He was always so attractive in the middle of a game, his brows pulled together and his lips pinched tightly together. I loved watching him pull his hair up before a game, twisting the long strands around before he tossed it up in a bun on top of his head. 

“He’s got this.” I said. “Come on, Lou!”

“He’s gonna pass to Harry.” She shook her head. “He has to, babe. He’ll miss from back there.”

“They have five fucking seconds.” We always got a bit snippy during games, but never at each other. “It better be a flawless fucking pass.”

Louis passed the black and white checked ball to Harry with a swift kick and I held my breath, waiting to see what would happen. Harry pushed a guy on the opposing team gently with his shoulder, sliding low until his foot collided with the ball. Just as the last second ticked down, it collided with the net behind the goal and Harry collapsed on his back as players rushed around him. 

Everyone cheered loudly, Eleanor jumping up with a loud cheer alongside the crowd. I could barely move, my heart thumping so loudly that it was all I could hear. I watched Harry’s back flat on the ground, my eyes watering as he continued to stay still. When I saw him sit up, shaking his head, I finally took a deep breath. Moments later, Louis and Niall were lifting him up on their shoulders. 

“Thank, fuck.” I whispered, standing up next to Eleanor as I clapped. 

Harry’s eyes flitted to the stands, landing on mine with a wide grin. 

He was covered in mud and dirt, but he was fine. 

Eleanor grabbed my hand, guiding me down towards the field. 

She was quick to launch on Louis when her feet hit the grass and Niall was quick to run over and scoop me up. I patted him on the back, laughing as he shook me around in his arms. 

“We won!” He cheered. “We bloody won!” 

“I know!” I chuckled, brushing my hand over the back of his head. “I’m proud of you, Ni.”

He put me on my feet, pressing a kiss to my cheek before he turned around to Harry. He grabbed his best mate by the face, kissing his forehead before he ran off shouting something that was terribly hard to make out. I rolled my eyes, steadying myself on my feet. Harry walked over to me, holding his arms out with that same wide and cheeky grin on his lips. 

“Come give your best mate a hug,” He said. “Gotta thank my good luck charm.”

“Harry, no.” I said, holding my hands up. “You’re covered in mud and grass and- Harry!” 

I squealed, taking off on the grass as Harry chased me. 

I dodged a few members of the opposing team, apologizing profusely. 

It didn’t take very long for Harry to wrap his arms around me, pulling me against his chest. 

“I deserve a bloody hug, sweet pea.” He squeezed me tight. “I won!”

“I know, but you’re gross.” I groaned, dropping my head back. “You get to shower before we go to lunch and I don’t.” 

“You could always join.” He whispered, his lips brushing against the shell of my ear. “Know you’ve been dying to see me naked, haven’t ya pea?”

“I will elbow you.” I grumbled, spinning around in his arms. “Don’t be a prick.”

“Just like watching you blush, Piper.” He reached over, pinching my cheek softly. “Where are we going for lunch today?” 

“Where do we always go for lunch?” I rolled my eyes. “Go on, get cleaned up so we can go.”

“Fine, fine.” He sighed. “I’ll see you in ten?”

“I’ll be here.”

I walked back over to Eleanor and Louis, my mind stuck on Harry’s cheeky comment. 

I hated when he did stuff like that. 

He was always toying with my emotions, pulling me to and fro like I didn’t have any feelings at all. He knew that I had a crush on him and he knew that it sucked for me to be so close, but I had the power to stop it at any time. The truth was that I couldn’t stomach the thought of being away from him like that. I wanted him in my life, no matter how I could have him. I walked towards Eleanor with a heavy sigh, crossing my arms over my chest as she kissed Louis deeply. 

Being around a couple constantly was torture when you weren’t apart of one yourself. Especially when the person you wanted to be a couple with was always around anyways. When the pair were done kissing, Louis ran off towards the stadium to take a shower in the locker room. Eleanor smiled over at me and I gave her a blank stare, my lips turning down. 

“What happened?” she asked softly. 

“He’s done it again!” I tossed my hands up. “He was all ‘you should come shower with me, I know you want to see me naked’. Isn’t he the one who keeps insisting we should just be friends?” 

“He’s an idiot.” She rolled her eyes. “I hate that he keeps doing this and I hate that you won’t let me talk to him about it.”

“I don’t want to come between you and an old friend, El.” I shook my head. “He’ll grow up eventually, I guess. If he doesn’t, I guess I’ll have to start moving on.”

“I think you two would be so perfect for each other, babe.” She sighed. “I don’t know what his deal is!”

“Has Louis said anything?” I ask softly. “I don’t want to pry but-”

“Not a word.” She said, her sympathetic grin causing my heart to sink. “He spends all of his time with you and we both know that he’s into you, but something is holding him back.”

“Yeah.” I grimaced. “I like him so much, El.”

“I know.” She frowned. “I wish I could smack some sense into that thick skull of his. I mean, men can be so daft and then they say we’re the complicated ones!”

“I know!” I exclaimed. “Anyways, you and Lou are still coming to lunch with us, right?”

“Yeah.” She nodded. “Louis is dying for a turkey apple sandwich.”

“That does sound good.” I hummed out. “I was thinking about soup, though, it’s freezing out here.”

“Oh, soup.” She groaned out. “That’s perfect,”

                                                        ⚽️🔹⚽️🔹⚽️🔹⚽️

Harry’s Pov

I wrapped my towel around my waist, letting out a heavy sigh as I turned the faucet off. 

I hated what I was doing to Piper. 

My sweet pea.

I couldn’t help but rile her up like that, watching her face flush red as I whispered in her ear. 

Part of me was certain that I was riling her up so that she would make the first move. If that was the case, maybe Louis would realize that our feelings for each other were real. 

“Mate,” Louis said. “What was that on the field?” 

“What do you mean?” I asked, my brows furrowing as I walked up to my locker. “We won, Lou.”

“I meant when you were chasing Piper.” He said. “That was flirting, Harry.”

I snapped my mouth shut. 

If he heard the things that passed between Piper and I when we were alone, he’d be livid. 

It was borderline verbal sex with us sometimes, the tension so thick that it had her clamping her legs shut and me shifting in my seat. 

“Was just teasing her, Lou.” I rolled my eyes. “You’re not getting onto Niall for picking her up and kissing her face.”

“Niall means no harm.”

“And neither do I.” I shot him a glare. “Mind your mouth.”

“Why her, Harry?” He sighed. “You could have any bird or lad on campus and you want her, why?”

“Because she’s Piper.” I turned towards him. “She’s the one that I want, okay. I can’t tell you why I think about her every moment of the day or why I want to be with her, I just do. I want to be there for her and you’re stupid fucking fear for Eleanor is standing in my way.”

“You can do what you want.” Louis’ jaw tensed. “M’not standing in your fookin’ way, mate.”

“But you are!” I shouted. “You are because you know that I would never do anything to hurt you or El because you’re family to me. You asked me not to do something and I’m being respectful of that because I respect you. I can’t say that you respect me though, because you would never ask this of me if you did. Can’t you see that this is killing me?”

Louis let out a frustrated huff as I turned back to my locker. 

I grabbed my clothes, angrily pulling them on before I ran my towel over the wet strands of my hair. Piper would be pissed to see me pulling at my curls instead of properly scrunching them up with a soft t-shirt, but I couldn’t be arsed to care about that right now. I slammed my locker shut, hiking my bag onto my shoulder before I stormed out of the locker room. When I walked out onto the field, Eleanor and Piper were whispering amongst themselves. 

“I just don’t get it.” Piper let out a sad sigh. “I want-”

“I know, babe!” Eleanor interrupted her with a chipper voice, pressing her hand to Piper’s bicep with a wide smile. “I wish they still had pumpkin spice too, I already miss it.”

“You women and your pumpkin spice.” I grumbled, pressing my hand to Piper’s hip before I leaned down to kiss her cheek. “Know you miss it, Pea, but it’s peppermint season now.”

“You’re right.” She gave me a playful pout. “I guess I can survive with that for now.”

“Thatta girl.” I chuckled, pulling my hand back as she reached up to touch my hair. “What?”

“You didn’t scrunch your hair properly, H.” She sighed. “I’ve told you to take better care of these curls! They’re going to be frizzy when they dry.”

I licked over my bottom lip, resisting the urge to lean down and kiss the pout off of her lips. 

“Sweet Pea, I’m sorry.” I said softly. “I was in a little bit of a rush, yeah? Wanted to get my favorite girls to lunch.”

“In that case, I guess I can forgive you.” She mumbled. 

                                                    ☕️☕️☕️☕️

Piper’s POV 

I sipped at my peppermint latte as Harry tossed a french fry into his mouth. 

“So when are you all flying home?” I asked. “Only a few weeks left until Christmas and exams are almost over.”

“El and I are flying out next Friday.” Louis said, smiling over at his girlfriend. “I’m excited to see me Mum and sisters.”

“Me too.” Eleanor nodded. “Missed them all.”

“What about you, H?” I asked. 

“I decided to stay.” He shrugged. “I don’t want to disrupt my schedule mid year, you know? It’ll be hard for me to get back into things come January if I spend an entire three weeks vegging out with Mum and Gem.”

“Oh.” I said softly, my face falling as he cleared his throat. 

He was avoiding something and he was sad about it. 

“I’m not going home either.” I said softly. “Too expensive to fly around the holiday’s, you know? Don’t make nearly enough being a full time fan girl for the footie team.”

“Tell me about it.” Eleanor rolled her eyes playfully. “Who do I talk to about getting that raise I was promised.”

“Oh, you get plenty as it is.” Louis leaned forward, capturing her lips. “Pay you in love and other things.”

Harry let out a frustrated sigh, standing up from the table. 

“I’ve gotta go.” He pulled his wallet out, tossing twenty five dollars onto the table. “S’enough for both of us and the tip, Pea. I’ll see you later in Mcgregor Hall for our study session.”

“H-”

“Bye.” He leaned over, pressing a sloppy kiss to my forehead before doing the same to El. 

I watched him storm out with a confused look on my face. 

“Should I not have asked about Christmas?” I looked at Eleanor with soft eyes. “I can’t….El, I can’t do this anymore.”

“Babe, it’s gonna be fine.” She said softly. “He’s just a bit moody today, isn’t he? Misses his Mum a whole lot, it has nothing to do with you.” 

“What are you two on about?” Louis asked, glancing between us. “Is something going on between you and Harry?”

“No.” I shook my head. “That’s the problem.”

“They have this chemistry and Piper really likes Harry, but he told her that being friend’s was their best option.” Eleanor explained softly. “Sometimes he’s sweet on her though and it makes her sad because she wants him.”

“El.” I mumbled, my cheeks growing warm. “He doesn’t need all of the details.”

“You like that miserable sod?” Louis asked. “You’re not worried about a relationship with him ruining your friendship?” 

“Not really.” I shook my head at Louis. “Harry and I will always be friends.” 

“No, I mean,” Louis sighed. “You’re not worried about it ruining you and Eleanor’s friendship?”

“No.” I said slowly. “What are you talking about?”

“I feel like if you and Harry were to break up, you wouldn’t want to be friends with El because he’s always around.” Louis said softly. “Wouldn’t that be hard?”

“For a bit, yeah.” I shrugged. “We’re both mature, though. I think we could work through any differences and remain friends.”

“Why are you being so nosy?” Eleanor narrowed her eyes, looking at Louis. “What have you done?”

“Nothin’!” Louis exclaimed. “I’ve not done anythin’.”

“Louis!” She cried out. “You’re lying to me.”

“M’not.” He fidgeted in his seat, avoiding her gaze. “Swear I meant well.”

“Louis, what did you do?” I asked softly, my heart dropping as he avoided my gaze. “What did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything, I just…” He licked over his bottom lip, looking between Eleanor and I with wide eyes. “I just asked him to consider your friendship with Eleanor before making any moves on you. I didn’t want to see her lose her best friend, you know?”

“You’re a sodding prick, Louis Tomlinson.” Eleanor snapped. “You knew that Harry would respect that if you asked. He thinks of you as a brother and he would do anything for you.”

“I have to go.” I grabbed my bag and my coat. “I have to find Harry.”

“Go on,” Eleanor said. “I’ve got a very naughty boyfriend to deal with.”

                                           ❄️💠❄️💠❄️💠❄️

The first place I ran to was the frat house. 

Harry wasn’t there and Niall hadn’t seen him at all. 

The second place I ran was the park on the far end of campus that we often spent weekends at.

He wasn’t there either. 

When I finally found him, I was only a little shocked. 

“You just played a match, mate.” I let out a relieved sigh when he snapped his head up, his eyes softening when he saw me. “What are you doing out here?”

“Just needed to clear my head.” He said as I walked closer. “Why are you here?”

“I had to see you.” I took a deep breath, swiping the ball from between Harry’s feet with a swift kick. It landed in the goal and Harry let out an amused, but breathy chuckle. “I’m getting good.”

“You’ve got a good teacher.” He snorted out a laugh. “Everything okay, sweet pea?”

“No.” I said. “You see, I’ve got this friend and he’s having some girl trouble.”

“Oh, yeah?” He asked. “What’s his deal?”

“He really likes this girl and he flirts with her all the time, but he hasn’t made a move.” I shrugged, glancing up at Harry. “There’s this other friend of theirs that asked an impossible favor of him and he’s being loyal, which I admit is admirable, but a little daft, as you would say.”

Harry’s Adam's apple bobbed up and down softly and he looked over my head. 

“He does sound quite daft, doesn’t he?” He let out a soft laugh, closing his eyes. “Piper-”

“It makes me love him more though.” I said softly. “The fact that he’s putting aside his feelings because he’s that loyal to the people he loves. It’s stupid, but really sweet.”

“You think so?” He asked, his eyes a little watery as he looked down at me. 

“I do.” I nodded. “Why didn’t you talk to me about this, Harry? We share everything with each other and-”

“This was the one thing I couldn’t tell you, pea.” He said softly. “I never wanted to hurt you and...I knew that this would.  I didn’t want you to feel like I was choosing something over you, because that isn’t the case.” 

“Harry, it’s okay.” I said softly. “I would have understood and I also would have had a very long talk with Louis about minding his own business, darling. You’re free to be with whoever you want and no one can tell you otherwise.”

“What if I want to be with my beautiful best friend, pea?” He reached up, brushing his thumb over my chin. “What if I want to be with the girl that stole my heart the moment I saw her?”

“Then make a fucking move, Styles.” I let out a breathy laugh as he leaned closer. “She won’t wait around forever. She’s a fucking catch and-”

Harry’s lips pressed into mine, cold and wet and perfect. 

I pressed my fingers into his shoulders, gripping his coat tightly with glove covered fingers. 

He tilted his head slightly, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of my lips. 

“You’re perfect, Piper.” His breath washed over my lips as I shuffled closer, desperately seeking his body heat. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.” I said. “Just be with me, H. Be mine.”

“I’ve always been yours, Piper.” He brushed the tip of his nose over mine. “Always will be.”

When Harry’s lips pressed to mine again, something wet landed on my cheek. 

We both pulled back, looking up at the sky with wide smiles. 

“Snow.” I said softly. 

“Christmas miracle isn’t complete with snow, is it?” He teased, brushing his nose against mine. 

“Shut up and kiss me.” 

                                                 🎄❄️🎄❄️🎄❄️

Harry’s POV 

Louis looked like a child who had just been told Santa wasn’t real when Piper and I walked back into the cafe holding hands. He shot me a soft look that said ‘mate, I’m really sorry for being a dickhead’ and I gave him a tight smile in response. We still needed to have a talk about everything, but there was no use in fighting over something that was in the past now. It felt good, sitting next to Piper as her boyfriend and not just her best friend. It was sudden and my mind was still reeling, but I wouldn’t want it any other way. I walked her back to her dorm that night with a pout on my lips and our fingers tightly laced together. 

“I don’t want to say goodbye, pea.” I mumbled, my thumb brushing against her cheek softly as we stood in front of her door. “Just got you.”

“You’ve always had me.” She snorted out a soft laugh. 

“Never been able to make out with you, though.” I wiggled my brows. “Think we can finally carry through on all that sexual banter we’ve been partaking in.”

“Yeah.” She said quickly, her cheeks getting pinker. “But not tonight, H. Think we should take some time apart to think about things before we jump right in. It’s going to be a bit different now and I need to get used to the idea.” 

“Take as much time as you need.” I pressed my lips to hers in a soft kiss. “I’ll be waiting.”

I was only slightly regretting my words now. 

Everyone had left for Christmas and we had the house to ourselves. 

We were in the middle of a movie marathon in the living room, a few bottles of wine and takeout boxes scattered on the coffee table as we snuggled into each other. Piper’s head rested on my chest and her fingers rested against my stomach, slightly drumming over the bit of holiday weight I had put on over the last week or so. She looked so cute all snuggled up in my sweater and a pair of fluffy sucks, my sweatpants tucked into them carelessly. 

“You’re thinking too loud.” She whispered, lifting her head up. “What’s going on in your head, H?”

“Just thinking about how cute you are.” I smiled down at her. “You’re all snuggled up in my clothes with your pretty hair and your pretty eyes. I just can’t believe that I’m lucky enough to call you my girl.”

Her eyes searched my face as I reached up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. 

“I want you.” She said softly. “But I’m scared.”

“I wasn’t…” I trailed off. “M’not trying to get in your pants, sweet pea. I just wanted you to know that I’m so in love with you.”

“And I’m in love with you.” She sat up. “And I would really, really like to show you how much I love you.”

“When you’re ready.” I said. “I know that you didn’t have the best first time and you’re a little nervous to dive back in, but I can wait. I want you to be one hundred percent ready when the time comes.”

She inhaled sharply before giving me a soft nod. 

“I love you.” I said, brushing my thumb over her bottom lip. “Get back over ‘ere, pea. Wanna snuggle you some more.”

                                               🎄❄️🎄❄️🎄❄️

Piper’s POV 

Harry was snoring softly in my ear on the couch. 

The sun had long gone down and the credits for The Holiday were rolling on the flatscreen in Harry’s living room. With a soft groan, I flipped around in his arms, nuzzling my face into his chest as he tightened his arms around me. The scent of his cologne filled my senses, nearly lulling me back to sleep. I was moments from falling back into dreamland when I felt something firm pressing between my thighs, causing my eyes to snap open. I pulled back to look at Harry’s face, his eyes still shut as he continued to softly snore. He was still fast asleep. 

I let out a soft gasp, my walls clenching down as I shifted against his thigh. I let out a soft gasp, my fingers tightening against his sweater as I stilled my hips. I tilted my head back, looking over his face as he slept peacefully. I didn’t want to wake him, but was done waiting. I wanted him. I wanted everything with Harry and I especially wanted to indulge passion filled moments with frantic hands and desperate kisses with a christmas film playing in the background. 

“Harry.” I said his name softly, my fingers trailing up his throat to cup his cheek. “Harry, baby, wake up.”

“S’wrong?” He asked, tucking his head down. “You alright?”

“I want you.” I said it softly, my heart pounding against my chest. “I’m ready.”

“Sweet pea, s’late.” He opened his eyes. “Are you sleep talkin’?”

“No.” I shook my head. “I mean it.” 

I rolled my hips, grinding my core against his thigh to really send the message through. 

“Piper.” He gasped, his eyes wide open. “Darling, what….what’re you doing?”

“Was trying to snuggle up to you and you put your thigh between my legs, H.” I said timidly, my face heating up under his gaze. His lips were curling into a soft smile and I bit the inside of my cheek. “It felt nice.”

“S’that why you want me?” He let out a breathy laugh, shaking his head. “Needy girl.”

“Please.” I whispered. “I need you.”

“I’ve got ye’.” He leaned down, pressing a series of soft kisses to my lips. “Gonna push your pants down, okay?”

I nodded, but she shook his head. 

“If we’re doing this, I want to hear you.” He said. “I need you to say what you want.”

“Take my pants off.” I griped, tilting my head back.

“Good girl.” 

Two little words.

They sent a shockwave through my body, running straight to my core. 

I let out a soft whimper as he pushed at the waistband of my pants. 

“M’too tired to fuck you.” He said softly. “But I promise to make you feel so good, sweet pea. Gonna have you cummin’ fo’ me.”

“Please.” 

I shifted my hips as he moved the waistband of my sweats to my thighs, his hand brushing up the skin of my leg to my hip. He gave it a soft squeeze as our lips collided and I squirmed beneath him. He pulled back, brushing his nose against mine with his eyes shut tight. 

“Do you want my fingers?” He asked me softly. 

“I do.” I nodded. “My fingers are too small and I can never get the angle right when I try.”

“Fuck, pea.” He groaned, opening his eyes. “You’re killing me, my love.”

“Just want to love you.” I pouted my bottom lip out. “Wanna feel good.”

“I know, darling.” He sponged a few soft kisses over my hairline. “Let me get on my back, okay. I want you to ride my fingers.”

Harry wrapped his arms around my body, turning onto his back. I fumbled, my chest pressed tightly to his as he let one of his hands trail over my bum. I whimpered when he tucked his fingers between the crease of my bum and my thigh, brushing the pads of his fingers over my lower lips. His other hand maneuvered its way between our bodies, his thumb brushing swiftly over my clit before it dipped towards my entrance. 

“S’this okay?” He asked. “You feel comfortable?” 

“Yes.” I nodded. “I’m good.” 

He inserted his thumb, pulling it out quickly before he slipped it back up to my clit. 

He rubbed soft circles over it as his fore and middle finger brushed over my entrance in a teasing manner. 

I rolled my hips, desperate to have them inside of me. 

“Yeah, just like that.” He said gruffly. “Ride my fingers, sweet pea. Take what you want from me.”

I gasped when he pushed two fingers into me, my slick walls stretching around them as I moved my hips. I pushed down as Harry curled his fingers up, stroking over that spongy spot inside of me. I moved my hips up, his fingers sliding out slowly before I fucked back onto them. He cooed, brushing the pad of his thumb over my clit in quick circles. 

“You’re so tight, Piper.” He whispered into my hairline as I gripped onto his shoulders. “You’re clenching my fingers so tight.”

“Feels so good, Harry.” I whimpered. “Wanna cum.”

“Are you close?” He asked, a teasing lilt to his voice. “My girl is so greedy, isn’t she? Gonna cum before I properly fuck her with my fingers becuase she wants it so bad, isn’t that right?”

“Yes.” I gasped against his throat. “I need to cum, Harry. It feels so good and I can’t...I need it, baby. Please let me cum.”

“Take it.” He said, sliding his free hand up to my hip. “Take it from me, Piper. Make yourself cum for me sweet pea.”

I felt my thighs clamping as he pressed harder against my clit, my hips stilling against his hand as he stroked that spongy spot inside of me. I felt my walls clenching down around his digits, my whole body warm as my mouth fell open. It was better than any orgasm I had ever experienced on my own and it had me crying out into the skin of his neck. He brushed his hand up my back, slowly slipping my fingers out as I started to come down. 

“You’re so good.” he whispered. “That was perfect, darling. Did so well for me, didn’t you, pea?” 

“That was nice.” I mewled. “Thank you, thank you-”

“Gonna treat you so good tomorrow, darling.” He promised, a sharp edge to his voice. “Gonna spend hours with my head between those pretty thighs and then I’m gonna fuck you like you want. Gonna have you screaming for me, sweet pea.”

I whimpered into his neck, nodding. 

“I want that.” I whispered. 

My eyes felt heavy as he started to pull my pants back up. 

“I love you so much, H.” I whispered, my eyes slipping shut as he covered me up. “Love you, darling.”

“I love you more, pea.” he whispered. “Go to sleep, baby. I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

I drifted off to the sound of Harry’s voice, my face snuggling into his shirt. 

This was all I ever needed. 

[golden-web]

I finally got a little luck. Dr. Simmons wrapped me into a hug. She pulled away stopping for a bit to look at me.

“I’m so sorry Finley,” she says as she finally pulls away.

“I’m sorry you almost lost your job because of me.” I reply.

“And Id do it again, now no more apologies. We have work to do. Me and Fitz did some research and legal and other wise. And there’s some things that can change.” I nod eager to here good news. “You don’t have to see Dr. Raynor if you don’t want to.”

“I don’t.”

“Okay, that can change. You can’t completely get out of the parole situation you have.”

“Can I get back to going places and stuff that’s not government allowed like I don’t know school?”

“Yes, only if you do impatient for a week before school somewhere.” Shit, that’s not good news. “It doesn’t have to be that place Dr. Raynor told you about though. But there aren’t a lot of options. The best one would still be ran by the government, but it would be with me and my team if we can get some strings pulled.”

“Really?” That could have gone worse. I feel a smile creeping on my face.

“Baymax would have to come with and you would be seeing a therapist twice a day for meetings. But because you are powered, not typically in the way we deal with, but close enough that you can then do almost like a little training program. And then if you keep doing weekly check ins, you could return to swinging around, it would be things we dictate, at least till they forget about you and we can just sign stuff off. But it’s better then anything.”

“That sounds great, but I don’t know if I want to. It caused a lot of issues and hurt a lot of people. I’m not sure if I can do it again.” It’s the first time I’ve every really told this to anyone. That lump in my throat comes back. I glance around my apartment. My dads at work so we have it to ourselves not counting Baymax.

“And that’s okay, you wouldn’t have to. But it can be an option. It’s not ideal, and it wouldn’t be in new york, but you could call your dad every day and it’s only a week if everything goes well.”

“And if it doesn’t?” I can’t screw anything else up.

“It’s longer than a week, but after the first one you can leave at any time you just might not be able to return to everything.” I try and swallow the lump as Dr. Simmons rubs her hands together. “You don’t need to give me an answer till Monday.” I just nod. “Do you still have connection to the multiverse?” She whispers looking around again.

“Yea, I’ve talked to them, they’ve helped a bit actually.” Dr. Simmons smiles at this very pleased.

“That’s good, I’m real sorry to leave you Finley, but I need to get back. Think about it, and contact your agent when you decide okay?”

“Okay,” I say standing up with her. She touches my shoulder and swiftly moves towards the door. It closes leaving me alone with a decision.

[daisybeewrites]

Would you write Philinda with I Want You by Mitski 👀

Congrats by the way!

1. thank youuuuuu!

2. i made this kinda angsty bc,, uh,, the song felt very sad idk i listened to it on repeat. i hope you enjoy! fic below the cut>>

I want you

I hold one card

That i can’t use

“May?” Daisy said, knocking gently. Melinda didn’t speak, staying curled on her side in her bed. She just needed a few days. She had watched him die, right next to her on that beach, and then she was alone. She just needed a few days. Didn’t they get that?

She couldn’t yell because they lost him, too. Daisy lost a father, Fitzsimmons lost a mentor, Mack lost a friend. He was the team’s heart, just like Fitzsimmons was the brain and Mack was their moral compass; Daisy and Elena were the fire and May was the muscle. The team worked as a family, a single unit of limbs and eyes and bones and blood.

But May?

May lost her love.

She just needed some time.

And it’s the end of the world

We’re starting over

May clapped her hands, signaling the end of training for that day. Piper circled the cadets up, leading them while May went to shower off. Today was four months. It felt impossible.

The team had decided to visit his grave in Wisconsin. They had decided it was time to move on.

Daisy and Simmons were about to leave for space. Mack was creating STRIKE teams for future missions, trying to recruit new scientists, and focusing on studying the anomalies popping up all over the globe. Elena was throwing herself into training, trying to ignore that Mack hadn’t come out of his office for weeks. May was helping Piper, Davis, and Daisy get mission-ready while Simmons spent time with Fitz’ mother in Scotland.

It had been four months since the world ended. It was time to move on.

I love you darling

And I am done, dear

Daisy leaned her head on May’s shoulder, wrapping an arm around her waist. May would never admit it, but she was okay with it. A hug sounded nice. It pained her that a hug from Daisy or Elena wouldn’t be enough, they didn’t deserve that. But there was really only one person who could make it better, and he was gone.

When Daisy and the rest had gone back to wait in the QJ, May stayed for a while. She didn’t speak, she didn’t really think, either. She just stayed. She was trying to let go.

Loving Phil was painful. The loss hurt, dug deep. It dug just as deep as all their laughs, their cups of tea, and their late nights doing paperwork in his office.

She missed his cologne, and his habit of collecting cool little trinkets, and the quilt he left at the Playground that was now most likely ash.

But she was letting go. Letting go of all of it. And it felt like losing the left side of her body.

You’re in the house

And I am here in the car

“I get nothing from him.”

It can't be him. It can��t be him. It can’t be him. He died.

May walked back up into the Zephyr, still confused. Where the hell were they? Why did she feel so… blank? Who was that imposter back there?

Daisy briefed her later that night. She caught her up with her own death and how Simmons brought her back. It was terrifying. It was eery and sent chills through her veins. All she remembered was being in Izel’s realm, coming back and saving the day, then Daisy bent over her. It was all fuzzy.

She knew he was somewhere on the Zephyr, probably getting briefed as well. But it wasn’t him.

I just need a quiet place

Where I can scream

How I love you

It was too much. There were screams. The room was spinning. Elena was calling her name from another room. When did everyone leave?

Elena grabbed May’s arm, spinning her around to face her.

“May!”

May snapped out of it, the riding bile in her throat replaced by a familiar constriction of her chest. Just nerves.

This was something she could breathe through. Her immediate want was a dark room, quiet. She wanted to walk into Coulson’s office, sit in his spin-chair and pull one of his jackets over her arms. May just wanted some peace.

She wanted Coulson.

I found you

I found the door

But when I stepped through there was no floor

He was right next to her, and she couldn’t feel him. He was joking, talking and laughing. Daisy called him ‘Dad’. He was spitting out niche history facts. He seemed normal.

All May needed was a hint of emotion. Not from some angry guy on the streets of New York, not from the drunks in the bar, not from a flirty General she’d seen projected on a wall before.

She let him go. She got him back. But this wasn’t right.

We’re starting over.

“How’s world-traveling going?” Daisy asked.

May watched Coulson respond, a small smile on his face. She laughed with Fitzsimmons, making a mental note to visit and give Alya those ice skates she had bought her. Mack and Elena left, May rolled her eyes at their obvious flirting. She knew Elena was with Piper and Davis right now. She was glad Mack had asked her to teach at the Academy. Honestly, her joints were starting to scream at her the more she sparred.

Then it was just Coulson and May and Daisy left. She didn’t know what to say. I miss you? I love you? See you when you’re back from space? Ask him to visit?

The last one sounded okay.

“If you’re ever in the area, stop by and give a lecture. The kids would love that.”

So would I.

May twisted the tech on her temple, taking her back to the Academy. She sighed. She missed everything they had been through, from picking up Skye to Puerto Rico to Ghost Rider (maybe she didn’t miss the framework so much…) to Tahiti. It all came back to Phil.

The world had ended, and they were all starting over.

[jonsa101]

Max Goodwin and Randall Pearson: The Well-Meaning, Incredibly Self-Centered Leading Men We’ve Grown to Love.

Hey fam! Like I said, I’ve been writing a ton of meta lately and this is another one that’s just been sitting in my drafts. It’s basically a This Is Us and a New Amsterdam meta which is something I haven’t done before but something I want do more of. In my Game of Thrones days I used to write a lot of meta about shows and characters that had similarities so this is fun for me. I hope y’all enjoy this. ALSO THIS HAS SPOILERS FOR BOTH SHOWS!!!!!!!

Without a doubt the two most popular shows on NBC is This is Us and New Amsterdam. And what’s not to love? They’re both emotionally driven, heartfelt, shows that focus on incredibly deep and complex topics. Though one show focuses on family dynamics and the other focuses on the healthcare system, these shows are very similar in more ways than one. Case in point, Max Goodwin and Randall Pearson. The more I watch these two shows, the more I realize how these two characters are so alike!!! These two men are kind-hearted, well intentioned, individuals who genuinely want to make some sort of positive difference. They are incredibly ambitious and always have “bright ideas” and “goals” they want to accomplish and somehow they’re able to meet those goals without ever having to sacrifice their wants and needs. By every definition these men are the “main characters” or the ultimate “protagonists.” These are the folks that we are supposed to root for. At the same time, though these men have many traits to be admired, when you truly look at it both of them can be incredibly self centered and selfish especially when it pertains to their romantic partners and love interests. No matter how appealing you make these characters out to be these men clearly fall under the Behind Every Great Man trope.

The Behind Every Great Man trope has been used countless of times throughout Cinema and TV History that I’m sure that I don’t even have to explain it to you but for the sake of this meta this is how it’s defined.

“Behind Every Great Man...stands an even greater woman! Or in about a hundred variations is a Stock Phrase referring to how people rarely achieve greatness without support structures that go generally unappreciated, and said support structure is a traditionally female role via being the wife, mother, or sometimes another relation. This trope is specifically about a man who is credited with something important, but owes much of his success to the woman in his life.”

This trope usually has a negative connotation (and rightfully so) because the man who often benefits from this is an asshole and unworthy of this type of support!

For example:

Oliva and Fitz

Cristina Yang and Burke

Cookie and Lucious

Ghost and Tasha

There are countless others but these are a few of the couples that come to mind for me. Randall and Max aren’t comparable to any of these men that are listed above but they are still operating under the same trope. It just looks nicer because Max and Randall are inherently good and inspirational. They are the heroes of the story. I would even argue and say that both men fall under the Chronic Hero Syndrome trope which is defined as

“Chronic Hero Syndrome is an "affliction" of cleaner heroes where for them, every wrong within earshot must be righted, and everyone in need must be helped, preferably by Our Hero themself. While certainly admirable, this may have a few negative side-effects on the hero and those around them. Such heroes could wear themselves out in their attempts to help everyone or become distraught and blame themselves for the one time that they're unable to save the day. Spending so much time and effort saving everyone else can also put a strain on the hero's personal or dating life.”

Just because Max and Randall have these incredibly inspiring aspirations, is it fair that their wives and love interests are always expected to rise to the occasion and support them. Is it ok for their partners to continuously sacrifice their wants and needs because they love these men? 

Let’s dive into it. 

Truth be told, Beth Pearson, Helen Sharpe and Georgia Goodwin had to endure a GREAT DEAL to emotionally support the dreams and aspirations of these men while sacrificing so much of themselves in the process. In media we often see women sacrificing so much of their wants and needs out of love for these male leads and rarely do men do the same thing for their romantic partners and love interests. All three of these women clearly fall under the Act of True Love trope defined as

“The Act of True Love proves beyond doubt that you are ready to put your loved one's interests before your own, that you are truly loyal and devoted to them. Usually this involves a sacrifice on your part, at the very least a considerable effort and/or a great risk. The action must be motivated, not by morals or principle or expectation of future reward, but by sheer personal affection.When your beloved is in dire need of your help, or in great danger, and you do something, at great expense to yourself, for the sake of their safety, their welfare, or their happiness, thus proving beyond any doubt that you put their interest ahead of yours.”

Over the past few seasons we have seen all three of these women truly live up to this trope without any true consequences or accountability from the men they’re making all these sacrifices for. For example, in Beth and Randall’s marriage, how many times did Randall spring an idea on Beth without truly talking to her or considering her wants first? Everyone thinks these two are an ideal couple but she has endured A LOT for Randall.

Randall has spontaneously quit his job, moved his dying biological dad into their home, bought his biological dad’s old apartment building, fostered and adopted a child and also ran for city councilman outside of his district. In all of these decisions, Randall “consulted” Beth about it but at the same time didn’t really consult her. In a way there has always been this expectation of Beth to just go along for the ride with what Randall wants. Is anyone else exhausted from reading that list?! That’s a lot for partner to endure and lovingly support. But Beth has endured and has been Randall’s rock through it all!!! What worries me is that the one time Beth spoke out about her wants and needs of pursuing dance again, he couldn’t match the same energy she was giving him and eventually it led to world war three between them. Though things are looking up in their relationship  and he’s starting to support her more, has Randall nearly given to Beth as much as she’s given to him? Absolutely not!

Similar to Randall, Max also had a wife who was a dancer. in fact, she was a prima ballerina. Unlike Randall and Beth, Max relationship with Georgia was rocky from the start. When we were first introduced to them Max and Georgia were separated and rightfully so. Georgia was never Max’s first priority. The hospital always came first in their relationship. He couldn’t even dedicate a full night to her for their proposal. In order to “save” their marriage they decide to have a baby and they both committed to taking a step back in their careers in order to do so. The problem was Max didn’t keep his side of their commitment and took a job to become the medical director at the biggest public hospital in the U.S. She gave up her career to start a family and he totally and completely betrayed her trust. So throughout season one we see them trying to rebuild their marriage but even in the midst of trying to rebuild a marriage based on trust and mutual respect Max still keeps things from Georgia. For several episodes he didn’t tell her that he had advance stages of throat cancer. He only told her when Georgia asked him to move back home. That’s fucked up! Then throughout their pregnancy he was never fully there for Georgia because he was either to preoccupied with the hospital or himself. At the end of it all, Georgia died tragically at the beginning of season two and really had nothing to show for it in her relationship with Max other than her daughter Luna.

Now let’s bring Helen Sharpe into the fold. While all of this stuff was going on with Max and his wife in season one, Max was developing a deep friendship, borderline emotional affair with Helen. Their relationship started out with Helen being his oncologist. As the new Medical Director of New Amsterdam, he swore Helen to secrecy about his diagnosis so that he could still run the hospital. Through that secrecy they eventually formed a deep bond but as his cancer got worse his secret was let out of the bag. He realistically needed someone to step up and run the hospital when he was going through chemo and though Helen already had commitments she stepped up and became his deputy medical director. Somewhere along the lines Max and Helen started developing feelings for each other. As Helen becomes aware of those feelings, she made a choice and decides to remove herself as Max’s doctor. He BITCHES about it but eventually accepts the boundary she’s clearly trying to set. Mind you, as this is unfolding, like Max, Helen is also in a new relationship with her boyfriend Panthaki. As Max’s cancer seems to be getting worse with his new doctor, she goes back on her boundary and decides to be his doctor again. This pisses her boyfriend off because he could already peep the vibe between them and he breaks up with her. When we get into season two, Max’s wife died and Helen set him up in a clinical trail (with a doctor she previously fired) that’s helping his cancer.  Unbeknownst to Max, this doctor ends up holding his life saving treatment plan over Helen’s head and in order for his treatment to continue she gives this doctor half of her department!

Helen has sacrificed a lot for Max and now in season three she’s finally prioritizing her current wants and needs first! Like Randall, Max is starting to turn a page and is starting to support Helen and truly listen to the wants and needs that she has. All of this is good but my question is did any of these women have to sacrifice so much for the men in their lives to get a clue?

Why is it that this is a trope we see in media time and time and time again? Even if these men are good, why don’t we still keep these male characters accountable when they put their significant others in these situations that are clearly not fair? I’ve watched countless tv shows and I’ve seen a lot of tv couples but I think I have only come across one couple where the male counterpart has selflessly loved his significant other and has always put her needs above his own. 

That character my friend is none other than PACEY WITTER

I might be mistaken but I think Joey and Pacey are the most popular ship in tv history and honestly, rightfully so! This is only example I can think of where the male in the relationship so willingly puts the wants and needs of his partner first. It is a completely selfless and sacrificial love. He never wants to hold her back and he never asks her to compromise her wants or needs for him. That’s why I think so many women love Pacey because in a sea of TV relationships, Pacey Witter is a fucking unicorn.

So to wrap this up does this mean that I hate Randall Pearson or Max Goodwin? No! I adore them. I love both of their characters so much. I just think that when we see the media continuously play out the sacrificial wife/love interest for the sake of their male counterparts, it should be called out. I’m all about sacrificial and selfless love but it should come from both sides.❤️❤️❤️

Anyway I hope y’all enjoy this! As always my DMs are opening here or on Twitter @oyindaodewale

[gay-otlc]

Keepers of the Chaos (Chapter 2)

Summary: Tam, Linh, Keefe, Biana, and Fitz are part of the tiny fandom for Keeper of the Chaos, and Tam and Linh's podcast convinces some of their other friends to watch it as well. The group finds themselves strangely invested in this show, where students at Tumblr High School who work together to write about an elf named Sophia, cause incomprehensible chaos, and fight their rival Pinterest High School.

Content warnings: Cursing, food, L*ura

Word count: 2005

Notes: Check out the beautiful theme song here!

(Read on AO3)

Sophie rolls her eyes as she opens the link her girlfriend sent her and puts in her earbuds. Biana has been incessantly pestering her to watch Keepers of the Chaos for so long that Sophie half wants to watch it just to shut her up, but she's always tired, or busy, and she doesn't really like watching new things. Still, Biana asked her very nicely to listen to this one podcast, and she looked very pretty when she asked, so Sophie's dumb omni ass couldn't refuse.

"Welcome to the Twins of the Chaos podcast," it begins after loading for an obnoxiously long time. The girl speaking has a pretty voice, Sophie has to admit- sweet and melodic and vaguely amused.

Maybe listening to this podcast won't be so bad if she can listen to that girl's voice the whole time.

But another person speaks, adding "Where some chaotic twins discuss our favorite show, Keepers of the Chaos," and his voice is not as pretty. She continues listening anyway, since Biana may or may not murder her if she stops.

The two voices- whose names are Linh and Tam, apparently- start talking about Keepers of the Chaos some more, giving Sophie a summary she's heard tons of times from Biana and Fitz- though the twins explain it slightly more coherently and with less... whatever the verbal equivalent of keyboard smashing is. Biana usually starts rambling about her favorite characters, like Lynn- not "Lynn the fandom mom," but the other Lynn- and Avery, or sometimes Nora and Darwin. Sophie doesn't understand any of those names and loses track of the conversation as soon as it involves too many unfamiliar names.

But Tam and Linh are making more sense, at least for the most part, until they start mentioning specific couples. The conversation gets again comprehensive soon enough, though, and Sophie does smile at the name "The Dark Duck."

By the end, when Tam says "half of them wearing sleeping masks with teal eyes painted on and the other half watching the chaos with mild amusement," Sophie is curious enough to be mildly intrigued. She listens to their outro music, and before she can regret it, types out a text message to Biana.

Sophie: fine

Sophie: ill watch it

Biana responds instantly with an array of heart emojis. Sophie blushes.

Biana: can i come over and watch with u?

Sophie: ok!

Sophie: moms making mallowmelt

Sophie: but u cant have any

Biana: >:(

Biana: hope u like being single then

Sophie: fine u can have some mallowmelt

Biana: yayyyy!

Biana: ily

Sophie: ilyt

Sophie: now lets watch ur stupid show

Biana: on my way!!!

Sophie smiles, shaking her head. She's a little annoyed, but fine, it sounds interesting enough from the podcast. And what else would she be doing? Studying? Having US history as an alternative would make even the most horrible of shows seem good. She stuffs her textbooks into her backpack and shoves some things out of the way so her room looks a bit neater before rushing downstairs. The mallowmelt smells good enough to make her mouth water.

"Mmm..." she sighs, barely taking time to let it cool off before taking a large bite. "That's so good. Thanks, Mom."

Edaline  smiles. "You're welcome. Just save some for your father and I."

"Fine, fine. I have to share with Biana, anyway." Sophie huffs and takes another bite. "She's coming over, is that alright? We're going to watch a show together."

"Sure, just make sure to get your homework done."

Sophie rolls her eyes. "Fine."

"And keep the door open!" Grady calls. Edaline laughs as Sophie's face flames.

"I'm going back to my room," she grumbles, taking a plate of mallowmelt with her and walking up the stairs. She manages not to trip over her own feet and drop the mallowmelt, thankfully, as she grabs her laptop and opens Netflix. Sighing, she searches for Keepers of the Chaos and clicks on the show that comes up before waiting for Biana to arrive.

The doorbell rings soon, and Sophie carefully sets down her laptop and her plate on her bed before rushing down the stairs. Panting slightly, she opens the door for her girlfriend. Biana's wearing a t-shirt with the Amsterdam flag on it. Sophie has no idea why. Maybe Biana likes the country? Her girlfriend is pretty weird. "Come on in," she says, realizing she's been staring. In her defense, Biana is pretty and Sophie is very omni.

"Ready to go watch Keepers of the Chaos?" Biana asks. She bounces on her toes slightly.

"Alright," says Sophie. "I set it up on my laptop in my room."

"Awesome! You'll love it."

Sophie follows Biana up the stairs and into her room. They sit on the bed together, Sophie leaning against the wall and Biana leaning against Sophie, and Biana presses play. Somber kazoos begin playing in the background as the theme song starts.

We're on the edge of chaos

No one is straight

We're making fanart

Because L*ura we hate

And we're gonna have teal eyes in the end!

We must be weird, and we must be gay

(We must be gay!)

We will find every bit of sanity that we have

And give it all to Lynn

Ohhhh

We must be gay!

Biana dances a little along with the song, and Sophie can't help but smile. A curvy, round-faced person with short dark hair and colorful earrings plays a few notes on the piano, and then a KEEPERS OF THE CHAOS logo flashes across the screen. Then, a group of students sit in a classroom.

"Shai! Tater! Lynn! You three finally got together?" says the same person who just played piano, gesturing to a redhaed wearing a Sappho lesbian flag cape. She's holding the fingerless-gloved hand of a lanky person with brightly colored hair, and they're holding hands with a tall girl who has chin length brown hair. The rest of the class applauds the fiancees before returning to their own conversations.

"Yep! Thanks, Ink," says Tater.

Ink smiles at them and turns to a person with light brown skin and golden hoop earrings partially covered by long dark hair. "Hi, Kiri, how was your break?"

"Good! Here's to a good 2021?" Kiri turns to the person next to them. "How about you, Ref?"

Ref has short brown hair and red glasses. "Yeah, my break was dOPE," she says, leaving everyone to wonder how he did that with their voice. "oH, and happy belated Hanukkah to Shai!"

"Thanks, you too. And guess what! I didn't set my hair on fire this year!"

A short guy with strawberry blonde hair looks concerned. "Um. Congratulations?"

"Thanks, Sam!"

Sophie looks away from the screen and at Biana. "There are a lot of characters..." she mutters.

"Yeah, but you get to know them well enough eventually," says Biana. "Now shh, let's keep watching!"

A lot of other characters are introduced in various conversations, and Sophie's brain has a hard time keeping track of them all. She does remember Tara, a curvy, bored-looking girl with long sideswept bangs, and Blue, a bisexual who may or may not be an arsonist. She doesn't know either of their personalities very well yet, but she likes them so far. Lucat, a pale, blue haired asexual, who later joins the Hanukkah conversation, also seems cool.

Once quite a bit of introductions are done- Sophie lost count at around twenty something- are over, an announcement comes over the school's loudspeakers.

"Welcome back, Tumblr High School!" announces a voice. "I hope you all had a good break. Now, the Tumblr staff have an important announcement for you all. High schools in this county, like ours, Pinterest High School, and Instagram High School, will be holding a competition. All members of the winning team will receive a scholarship to AO3 college. If you are interested, meet in room 69 after school. Now, onto other announcements..."

Somber kazoos play again as the principal's droning voice fades into the background. A montage of the previously introduced characters wishing they could go to AO3 college moves across the screen. After a few minutes of them zooming through school and talking about how fucking boring it is, all of them gather in the room (some of them with more jokes than others) to discuss the competition.

A blonde woman welcomes them into the room. They wait a while to make sure no one else will arrive, but once everyone is there, the woman clears her throat. "Hello, everyone! I'm glad you're interested in joining the competition. My name is Shannon Messenger, and I'm in charge of admissions at AO3 College. My coworker L*ura and I designed this competition."

Sophie gasps and looks at Biana. "L*ura? But isn't that the person they hate? They said that in the intro!" Biana smiles at her, and she blushes as she realizes that she's kind of... maybe... invested in the show now. She decides she'll endure the "I told you so"s later and looks back at the show, trying to telepathically tell the characters not to trust this L*ura person... and perhaps not Shannon either. It's too early to tell whether Shannon will be an antagonist or not.

"All of you will be working as a team to write a story together. The main premise is that a twelve year old girl named Sophia is a telepath, but she can't tell anyone her secret. Then, she meets a teal-eyed boy named Finn, and he tells her that she's an elf. She travels back to the elf world with him, where she struggles a bit at the elf school Firefox, makes friends with some other elves, learns that she is an illegal creation of a rebel group called the Dark Duck, and another rebel group- the Rarelynoticed- tries to kidnap and kill Sophia and her friend Deck. There are other details to be included into the story, which will be given out to the participants as a packet. The object of this competition is not to determine your ability at coming up with story ideas, but your ability to work in groups and execute well developed ideas. Does anyone have any questions?"

Someone raises their hand- a short, tanned girl. "Lynn?" prompts the principal.

"Did you say the rebel group was named the Dark Duck?"

"And the Rarelynoticed?" adds another person, with rectangular glasses and a red bracelet.

"Raise your hand before speaking, Auran," scolds the principal. "But yes, those are the names."

"Alright then," Auran mutters.

"Unless anyone else has questions, we'll be sending out sign up forms for everyone interested, and then we will distribute the information packets about your story. You can talk to each other and start planning."

No one else has questions, so once they've all filled out the sign up form, they gather in small groups and flip through the packets, making sarcastic comments or mocking names ("'Rarelynoticed' though-" a stylish hijabi named Raiin sighs as they come across a page of information about the group) as they try to form some semblance of a plan. Once they all agree that they've made a lot of progress, they make plans to meet up again soon and walk back home.

Unbeknownst  to them, a pair of ominous teal eyes watch from above.

Somber kazoos play once again, and the credits roll.

"So, what'd you think?" Biana asks as Sophie closes her laptop.

Rather inaudibly, Sophie mumbles "It was good."

"What was that?"

"It was good! I liked it!"

Biana grins. "I told you so." She leans over and kisses Sophie on the cheek. "Thanks for watching it. I have to go do some homework, awesome seeing you!" As she walks out, Sophie hears her singing under her breath. "We must be gay..."