#grumpy sunshine

[reidswrld]

me & you together song.

❛ i’ve been in love with her for ages, and i can’t seem to get it right. ❜

spencer reid x reader.

summary: you’ve always assumed spencer reid’s love language was acts of service. flowers left at your desk. notes written only to you. every tuesday, he gave you your favorite bagel from downtown. you knew he was like this with the rest of the team, too. you didn’t sweat it. you were focused on your job, and your job only. but when multiple instances occur over the course of a case, it’s hard to ignore both of your feelings for each other.

tags: grumpy fem!character x sunshine!spencer reid, friends to lovers, everyone knows but them, the bau literally bets when they’ll get together, no use of y/n, afab character, found family if you squint hard enough, spencer’s obsessed with her but won’t admit it to the public (the public is morgan), based on me & you together song by the 1975 btw, i wrote this while eating a doritos loco taco

word count: 2k

notes: i asked my best friends to give me a character and a trope. happy first post!

When you first landed the job as an agent at the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI, you first told yourself not to get too attached. This was a job, after all. A career. A high risk one, that could end in fatalities and wounds that might never heal, cuts that will always bleed for the rest of eternity. Once you made it clear to yourself that you were to be civil with your coworkers —close enough to be friendly, but not enough to go out for drinks on Saturday nights— and most important of all, do your job, and do it damn well, you poured yourself a glass of wine and watched the rest of the season of the sitcom you’ve been meaning to finish.

However, with all of the ups and downs your job gave you, it could not have allowed for you to expect the boisterous chaos that were your coworkers. They welcomed you in not only with open arms, but open minds. They respected your boundaries, your ideas, everything about you. Your attempt at remaining just civil became useless after months, but looking back, how could you have tried any longer? Penelope gave you a big kiss on the cheek every week, exclaiming that she loved your outfits and needed to go shopping with you right that minute. Morgan ruffled your hair whenever he brought you coffee (despite your incessant dismay that now you needed to brush it again). Hotch, though not a fan of public displays, would murmur a reassuring, you’re doing well every time he returned a file back to you. And then there was Reid.

Spencer Reid.

Well, what was there to say about him?

Over time, you’ve assumed that his love language must be acts of service. He brought you a bagel every week, sometimes more, from your favorite bagel shop downtown. Every Tuesday, a poppy seed bagel with extra plain cream cheese, extra toasted, cut in half so you could eat the middle dollop of cream cheese first. He made you mugs of tea whenever it grew past five pm because you told him that you had trouble falling asleep once months ago. Sometimes, small bouquets of wild grown flowers were left on your desk. At first, you thought it was Penelope being extra kind to you, or even Morgan playing a small joke on you. Both denied, but still giggled as you walked away. Whatever that meant. Behind your back, they secretly slipped each other five dollar bills.

You were sure he did the same for the rest of his coworkers, too. You’ve seen him refill coffee pots whenever Emily mentioned starting a new brew, and work extra hard on his reports in his free time to make sure Hotch or JJ didn’t stay too late. You were on the same page, anyway. Friends. Civil. It didn’t matter.

You huffed as you walked into the BAU, which was deemed more of a half jog, half marathon sprint. You hadn’t bothered to check the weather before leaving, and on the walk from the subway station to the office, it had started downpouring. The sudden drops of cold from the sky had caused you to drop your half empty cup of coffee, and you had forgotten to grab the breakfast you made yourself the night before in the fridge. Not even Harry Styles’ album blaring in your ears could have stopped you from turning the morning around. You grumbled simple good morning’s to everyone as you shook off your coat. Expecting to see your desk surrounded with papers that you were too tired to file in their intended drawers yesterday, you instead found a clean one; the papers were stashed in their designated places (in alphabetical order), the pens were compiled in the pouch you bought at Daiso years ago and cherished, even the trash under your desk was taken out. The only thing left to be seen on the wooden desk was a small brown bag that smelled of heaven and happiness and a folded piece of paper. You reached inside to find your usual poppy seed bagel the same as it always was. To make your Tuesday better. For you, always, the note read. You didn’t need to decipher whose scribbles those belonged to. You forgot it was Tuesday.

“Where’s my bagel, lover boy?” Morgan’s voice boomed as the man sat on top of your desk, snatching the bag with a grin. Spencer only swiftly passed by the desk with ease, choosing to make eye contact with the carpet.

“Good morning, Dr. Reid. Happy Tuesday.” Spencer’s eyes divert to yours quickly. He only nods, responding with the same greeting. Happy Tuesday, honey.

Morgan’s laugh carried throughout the room, swinging his legs as he spoke. “You two make me sick, that’s for sure. Can I have some of your bagel?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You furrowed your brow in annoyance, which only made Morgan smile widely.

“Do you need to get your glasses checked again? You know, there’s an optometrist across the street—”

As you started to speak, Hotch walked from his office, announcing a new case and to meet in the room immediately. You got up swiftly, grabbing your bagel from Morgan’s hands with a muttered asshole falling from your lips. It only made Morgan cackle loudly. You remind yourself to write a psych evaluation on Morgan after the case is over with.

On the first day of the case, you realized it was going to be a more difficult one than usual. You didn’t panic. You never do. The second day, you worked harder than ever only to see little to no result. You continued not to sleep. It was like clockwork. Work, coffee, repeat. After three days, the case was far from settled. In fact, it seemed to only be getting worse with no ending in sight. Everyone was continuing to work in hopes that they would be home for the weekend. The fourth day, though, seemed to be the worst. The killer was getting more spontaneous with their kills, and the team seemed to keep showing up minutes after the kill had occurred. You were running on little to no sleep and were getting more frustrated with each move the killer made in silence. Near the end of the day, as you stared aimlessly at the wall in front of you, hoping it would make some sort of answer appear in front of your eyes, Hotch put a hand on your shoulder, You jumped slightly, trance be gone, when he told you to get back to the hotel immediately.

Immediately, you persisted. “I’m fine. I’ve almost got something. I’m sure of something.”

“I’m not asking you.”

“Hotch—”

“I’m ordering you, not only as your boss, but mostly as your friend. Your dark circles are getting concerning.” You tried to budge once more, but as Hotch gave one of his stern glares, you knew you were done with work for the day. “I’ll get someone to drive you back. Wait here.”

Within seconds, Spencer appeared, replacing the previous figure of Hotch. Gently tapping your shoulder, he signaled for you to get up. With a flick of a wrist and a soft grin, he spun around a set of keys around his fingers. “Hotch is letting me drive.”

You smiled. “Don’t want Morgan to ‘vibe it?’”

“His definition of ‘vibing it’ is just turning on the sirens when he doesn’t want to stop at a red light.” You walked side by side to the car. Your shoulders brushed ever so slightly due to Spencer’s hands in his pockets, but you didn’t mind. You welcomed the warmth.

“Your definition is turning the volume up to 13 and calling it loud.”

“I would like to be able to hear when I’m old, thank you very much. Any decibel over eighty and poof. Hearing. Out the window.”

“I really don’t think playing Queen at any volume above 13 will kill you, Spence.”

“You never know, honey.” Spencer opened the door for you, ushering you in before closing the door and getting in on the driver’s side. He pulled a cassette tape from his bag and pushed it in the radio; it started to softly play Queen while Spencer messed with the volume, setting it at 13 before driving away. It made a soft smile appear on your lips as your head leaned against the cool glass. Between the constant, soothing movement of the car or the way Spencer’s lips mouthed the lyrics of Good Old Fashioned Boy, it was hard to tell when the lines blurred and sleep drifted you away. The only thing you recognized before falling asleep were the unmistakable words that left Spencer’s mouth.

“Good night, honey. Love you.”

You woke up with a start the next morning. You had no idea how you got back into your hotel room, or how you were wearing your favorite sports shirt that you find comfort in sleeping in all of these years, though your mind directed each question back to the same person, of course. Your mind wandered to the night before; it was the most relaxed you had been all week, even if it was just the simple act of driving with Spencer. You had done it before in past cases —even driven him back to his hotel at times— but this time felt different. Maybe it was the words that left his mouth.

“Oh, good. You’re awake.” Spencer suddenly walked in, holding bags in his arms. He set them down on the table, pulling out various assortments of breakfast foods and handing them to you. “No bagel shops around here, but I did find some good pancakes if you want to eat now.”

“Spence.” You suddenly sat up straight, as if a revelation hit you.

“What? No pancakes? It came with hashbrowns, too.”

“Spencer.” You emphasized, getting him to look at you.

“Yeah?”

“Why do you do all of this for me?”

“What?” His head cocked to the side, not understanding.

“Why do you… I mean… you go out of your way to do things for me. Unnecessary things. I need to know why.”

“Unnecessary…?”

“You… you leave me flowers that are like, hand picked from a garden or the forest, or something not from the city. You clean my desk for me when I’ve left it too messy. You make me my favorite tea when I’m at the office too late. You write me notes that are alluding but you won’t say what. I mean, Spence, you get me my favorite bagel every Tuesday. Why?”

His face suddenly turned serious as he sat next to you on the bed. “You want to know why?” He repeated.

“I know you do these things for the rest of our team, but I just, I just don’t get it.”

“Because I’m in love with you.” Spencer stared at you. “I’ve been in love with you. I think I’ll always be at least a little in love with you, if I’m being honest. I thought you’d catch on by now.”

“…What?”

“Yeah, honey. I thought I was pretty obvious.”

“So you meant what you said last night, then?” You said softly.

“I didn’t mean for you to hear that. Really. I would’ve said it better if I had known you were awake.”

“But I did.” Your face grew closer to his. “And I’m not upset about it. Because I’m in love with you, too.”

Just as your lips began to brush, Spencer began to smile. “You know what day it is, honey? It’s our day.”

You smiled, too. “Happy Tuesday.”

You both tried to be subtle about it for the rest of the case. Weeks had passed by without the team knowing, but one slip up of a kiss on the cheek from Spencer on a Tuesday morning had led to an entire office full of chaos (and a meeting on workplace romance and consent from Hotch). You two didn’t mind, though. It was bound to happen. Until Penelope turned to Morgan and yelled at him to cough up the fifty dollars he owed her, of course.

Happy Tuesday.

[mads-hemmo]

It’s Nice to Have A Friend - Jschlatt

Part 1

Reader has been lonely their whole life. They have never been in a relationship. They don’t understand why no one will love them but their best friend, Schlatt has always been in love with them.

Masterlist

From a young age, you have always been a hopeless romantic. Your favorite content always revolves around romance of some sort. You even have had your wedding planned since you went to your first wedding at merely six years old. Your plans are forever cemented on a Pinterest board that you continue to add to about monthly. I mean your taste has changed since 2015, but some things still remain true.

The only problem is that you haven’t got to experience romance yourself. At the ripe old age of 25, you have never been in a relationship. You have had your first kiss, but it wasn’t magical. You only did it because you hated being the college kid who had never kissed anyone. You slightly regret it, but at least it was out of the way.

The only good thing is that at least you have a best friend who you made a marriage pact with. You and your best friend Schlatt, met in middle school. When you were both sad and single in high school, you made a pact that if neither of you were married by 40, you would get married. It was just a silly thing that you both constantly laugh about.

When you met Schlatt in middle school, the two of you immediately hit it off. You saw Schlatt sitting by himself one day and decided to sit by him. You had a few classes with him and thought he seemed like a cool dude. At first he acted like he wanted to be alone, but you learned soon after that he really didn't have many friends. The two of you learned you had a lot in common. You both loved Nintendo, especially Mario Kart as well as computer games.

The one difference is you loved all things romance whereas Schlatt only cared about gaming and baseball. The really fucked up thing about the universe is that Schlatt has had multiple relationships while you remain single. His relationships usually never lasted, but it was still strange. The universe also made you bisexual and you still somehow manage to be lonely. But at least you had your best friend, Schlatt and that stupid marriage pact.

The hardest moment for you was when Schlatt decided to move to Austin, Texas. It was the longest and farthest apart you have ever been from each other. You knew it was good for career and would help him grow his channel, but it sucked being apart for so long. Thankfully, Schlatt made the decision to come back home to New York. When he came back, it was like nothing changed. You had your best friend back and nothing could make you happier.

Most of your nights lately have been spent hanging out at Schlatt’s apartment playing Mario Kart like you did as kids. Tonight was no different. Schlatt was playing as a Villager and you were playing as Cat Peach. “I tried downloading Tinder again,” you say, randomly.

“Why?” Schlatt asked, his eyes located on the screen.

“Maybe there’s someone new. We live in New York. Who knows who might have moved here? Maybe my soulmates!”

“Toots, how many times do I have to tell you? One, your soulmate is not going to be on tinder and two, you’re better off with a true New Yorker than some new kid that wants to make it on broadway or some shit.”

You sigh. “Oh my god, but imagine they are on broadway! You know my love for musical theatre! Maybe we need to go watch a show. The lead being so into their part locks eyes with me and we realize we are truly in love like the characters on the stage.”

Schlatt lets out a small laugh while rolling his eyes. “You are ridiculous, (Y/N),” he says, looking at you.

“You’re just mad that I’m kicking your ass right now.”

“You wish, Fucker,” he says, his competitive spirit coming back.

The two of you continue playing until you both decide you're hungry, so Schlatt orders pizza from your favorite place. “You staying the night?” Schlatt asks, grabbing the Bénédictine bottle and a few solo cups.

“Might as well. It’s the weekend after all,” you say, pouring the liquor into your cup.

“The guest room is always open for you. However, the cats have made it their own, so they might sleep with you.”

“It would be nice to have someone or something laying beside me even if it is just cats. I did always say I was going to be the crazy cat person, but the tables have seemed to turn,” you joke.

“I’m a very proud cat dad. They make great content and the ladies love them,” Schlatt says, moving his eyebrows.

You laugh at him. You miss the way his smiles grow with each laugh that leaves your mouth. “Did I tell you I started a new hobby?” You ask him.

“No? How do you have the time to have another hobby? What happened to crocheting or reading or shipping random men together?”

“I’m still doing all those things and I ship people of all genders. Anyways, I started coloring.”

“Coloring? Like with crayons?” He asks, not in a malicious way, but with genuine curiosity.

“No, with alcohol markers and white gel pens to add highlights. I saw it on TikTok of course and it’s been really fun. It’s also very stress relieving.”

“Can I see some of your finished work?” He asks, his eyes not breaking contact with yours.

“Oh yeah, sure,” you say, pulling your phone out. Sometimes you find it strange how Schlatt actually cares about your hobbies and various interests. He never makes you feel bad about it. He just lightly teases you, but you know that’s just how he is.

Schlatt looks at the pictures you took of the pages you have colored. “Awe I love the little kitty. They are cute! This is really impressive, Toots. It looks like you printed these out. Maybe next time you come over, you should bring your markers and we can color together. Mine won’t be near as good as yours, but I bet it would be fun,” Schlatt says.

You hold your pinky out and Schlatt wraps his around yours. “I’m holding you to that, Big Guy.”

“You know I’d never break a pinky promise. You bring the markers and I’ll bring the Bénédictine.” The marriage pact was formed on a pinky promise and that makes your heart feel warm.

You hear the doorbell ring and realize that your pinkies are still connected. You quickly get up to go answer the door. You see a very handsome man holding the pizza boxes. “Here’s your pizza,” he says. “It’s not everyday that I deliver to someone so pretty.” He winks at you.

“You’re too nice. Hold on, let me grab your tip,” you smile, turning around. You see Schlatt and he hands you a ten dollar bill. “Thank you.”

“Sorry I didn’t realize you had a boyfriend. I couldn’t have flirted with you if I knew,” the guy apologizes.

“He’s not-“ you start.

“Don’t worry about it, dude,” Schlatt says, grabbing the pizza and handing him the money. “Have a good night.” Schlatt closes the door. He goes to the kitchen to grab plates before coming back to the living room.

“What was that?” You ask him.

“What? I just finished what you were going to say. That guy also was probably a high schooler.”

You just decide to not push it any further, knowing that Schlatt is probably right. “What movie do you want to watch?” You ask.

“As long as it’s not a musical, I don’t care what we watch. I recommend Tokyo Drift, but you’re the guest,” Schlatt says, with a piece of pizza in his mouth.

“We can watch Tokyo Drift. It’s been awhile since you picked the movie.”

Schlatt smiles at you. “Thanks Bub.” He puts the movie on.

It doesn’t take long for you to pass out. Schlatt knew it was inevitable. You usually fall asleep during a film and with liquor and pizza on your belly, it’s no surprise when he hears your soft snores. Your head makes its way on Schlatt’s shoulders. He smiles at you and he feels his heart start to race. He wishes you weren’t so hard on yourself and saw how amazing you were.

After about twenty minutes, he realized that you were pretty much out. Instead of having you sleep on the couch, he gently picks you up, bridal style and carries you to the guest bedroom. He carefully lays you down and places the blanket over you. He watches in awe as jambo cuddles beside you. When he knows you’re definitely asleep, he kisses your forehead. “I love you. Sleep tight, Toots,” he says, cleaning up the living room before going to his bed. Schlatt wishes you were laying beside him. He would hold you tight and never let you ever think you were incapable of being loved. He falls asleep, happy with the fact that you are asleep in his house and not with someone who doesn’t deserve you.

A/N: yay!! New fic!! Thank you to 🍓 anon, and everyone else who suggested this req!! Hope you enjoy the first part. Sorry I’m posting this in the middle of the night! Let me know what you know!!

[anonymityisfunwriter]

Flufftober - Mistaken Identity

Pairing - Grumpy!Bucky Barnes x Sunshine!Reader

A.N. - I'm sorry, did you guys think I was just going to sit Flufftober out? Unfortunately, I run into the same problem I run into with all prompt challenges, I've already written many of the prompts so I just won't be doing all thirty one days, but we're gonna have fun anyway! And thank you to @flufftober for keeping this tradition alive!

Grumpy Sunshine Universe | Bucky Barnes Masterlist

The moment Bucky enters your apartment, he breathes a deep sigh of relief.

It's quiet, quaint. A sanctuary for only the two of you. And after the day he battled against, his home wraps around him like a warm blanket.

He tosses his keys down onto the side table, trudging down to your warm embrace.

The entire apartment is dim with only your string lights lighting up the space.

He smiles to himself as he finds you completely huddled up underneath the thick blanket, napping on the couch.

"Hi, honey," Bucky presses a kiss through the thick blanket. He'd asked you a million times over, and he knew you said you didn't mind if he woke you, but there was something so welcoming about the sight of you so at peace. He gives your hip a gentle squeeze, tracing a gentle pattern. "Honey? You're gonna suffocate yourself with the blanket over your face."

Bucky finds it odd that you don't stir at the gentle nudging. And he'd be concerned if he couldn't see the faint rise and fall of your breathing.

"Doll?" He finally caves, gently grabbing the corner of the blanket to untuck it from your face. Except it's not you. An involuntary shout falls from his mouth as he removes his hand like he's been burned. "Ah!"

"Ah!" Sam yelps.

"Sam, what the hell?" Bucky demands. "What are you doing here?"

"What am I doing here? What the hell are you doing feeling me up!?" Sam screeches.

"I thought you were - Wait, why am I explaining myself to you?" Bucky rants, his hands frantically flailing around him. "You're in my apartment! Taking a nap on my couch!"

"I had permission!"

Just as the words leave Sam's mouth, you burst through the door, your eyes frantically taking in the scene before you. "What's going on here?! I heard screaming from down the hall!"

Sam points an accusing finger at Bucky. "Bucky was feeling me up!"

"No! I mean, not no, but context! Context is important! I thought it was you were underneath the blanket!" Bucky explains in a high pitched, shrill tone.

You clap a hand over your mouth to smother your laughter at the scene.

Bucky grimaces, "It's not funny."

"It's a little funny." You pad over to Bucky, wrapping an arm around his waist. You gently pat his chest with a smirk, "And you know, I've never been in a love triangle before."

"This is not a love triangle!" he fumes. "It's the world's worst case of mistaken identity!"

Grumpy Sunshine Series Grumpy Sunshine Drabbles

Taglist: @marianita195 @meli18gonzalez @ludicbouquetfromearth @matchat3a @famousbreadcherryblossomsstuff @valoraxx @blue786sworld @buckyandgeraltsupremacy @geminigengar @ansaturn @ecolle @lexhalstead3 @ybflkmj @mediocre-daydreams@shanye1112 @thegirlnextdoorssister @toomanyfanficsbruh @moonlightreader649 @breathtaking-cynthia @mirikusashes @beans-and-toast @niyahcoca @katiechikin @elxvrr @antiheroxsblog @infamouslyclumsy @krissydclayton93 @buckysbarne @deadheadwbedhead @qualitygiantshoepsychic @whitexwolfxx310 @getosprettyboy @matchat3a @weallhaveadestiny @mostlymarvelgirl @honeydew3064 @michealharrypotter @mrs-bucky-barnes-73 @withyoutilltheendoftheline @the-photo-hoe @rae-nna @sarachabeans1@double-shot-of-tequila @spookyparadisesheep @lunaalovesyouu @daisy-loves-bucky@roseproseposts @theoraekenslover@king814318 @maybesomedaytho @carlie-babes99 @sunshinechikin @as-white-as-snow-love @melala1030 @badasswlthafatass @armystay89 @multiversefanfics @cherrysscinema @breathlesspieceofdeath @ravenn-darkholme @bxckybxrnes24 @guiltyasreid @bellabarnes1378 @blithecapricorn @mrsnikstan

[creativepromptsforwriting]

A friendship dynamic I find interesting is golden retriever x black cat. Love them as a ship, but it's also so special as a friendship.

Excited and happy friend who loves to bring fun and positivity into their friend's life. Grumpy and stoic friend who would never let anyone else damp down their bestie's fire.

Opposites attract in friendship too and I just think they're neat.

[wolvietxt]

⋆𐙚₊˚ grumpy x sunshine prompts!

mornings: grumpy is always irritable in the mornings, dragging themselves out of bed with a scowl, sunshine brings them coffee, teasing them with a bright smile until grumpy finally mumbles a soft 'thanks,' mood slightly lifted

teasing comfort: grumpy has been snapping all day, frustration boiling over. sunshine, unfazed, starts playfully teasing them until, despite themselves, grumpy lets out a small smile, the tension easing away

unexpected compliment: grumpy accidentally gives sunshine a rare compliment, leaving them glowing with happiness. grumpy tries to act annoyed at sunshine’s excitement but ends up flustered by how much it clearly meant to them

forced proximity: stuck in a small space together, sunshine talks nonstop, trying to make the best of it. grumpy pretends to be irritated but secretly enjoys sunshine’s company more than they’ll admit

protective: when sunshine gets hurt, grumpy’s usually calm exterior cracks, and they jump into action, fiercely protective. sunshine is surprised but touched by how much grumpy really cares

[purplecoffee13]

Mr. Sunshine - Part Four* (final part)

Summary: “You take Harry back to your dorm, things go down, and confessions are made.”

Wc: 2.5k

Tropes: grumpy!MC x sunshine!Harry

Warnings: SMUT, dirty talk, praise kink, overstimulation, gentle dom!harry

A/N: Happy Friday loves! I finished writing the last part of Mr. Sunshine today, and I wanted to share it right away! I loved writing this story line so much and I’ll definitely do check-ups on Sunshine!Harry. This chapter is shorter than the previous ones, but I almost cried while writing it. (this may also have to do with hormones, but oh well) enjoy!!!

Series Masterlist

General Masterlist

From the moment you and Harry are inside your room and the door shuts, his lips are on yours again. Your lips are tingling with how much they had missed Harry's in the short moment that you opened your front door. But now you were inside, walking backwards until Harry pushed you onto your bed, slowly climbing over you.

Your roommate had gone to her parents' house for the weekend, as it was her mom's birthday, so you had the room all to yourself tonight.

You let out the smallest fraction of a whine at the feel of Harry's fingers tracing up and down your body, feeling every last bit of you in the process. You feel the way Harry's lips cockily curls up before engulfing you into an even deeper kiss, with that sparking an even louder sound of pleasure from your mouth.

"Fuck. Such pretty sounds you make, sunshine." Harry says breathlessly in between kisses, his mouth leaving yours and latching onto your neck, kissing his way down. Your heat is on fire, at least it feels like that. Harry's touch is so familiar and it felt like it belongs on your skin.

"Harry..." you roll your eyes as he sucked on a sensitive spot on your neck, fondling your breast with his free hand. You wrap your legs around him in an attempt to bring him closer. You need him as close as he can get; you need him inside you.

"Talk to me, sunshine, what do you need?" He asks in a soft, teasing tone. You let out a whimper, your head too fuzzy to create any real sentences right now. When he senses that you aren't going to answer any time soon, he decides to taunt you some more. "I can't give you anything if you don't tell me what you need."

He lets another few seconds go by, and when still no answer fall from your lips, he starts to pull away. And just like clockwork, you break.

"No!" You yelp, propping yourself up on tour elbows. Your eyes widen at the sound of your own sudden desperation. You spot the amused glint in Harry's eyes, and sigh.

"I—... I need you."

The words leave your mouth in an irritated mumble, and it's when Harry realizes he's got you right where you've got him ever since that first project.

"C'mon sunshine, you can do better than that. Say it like you mean it." He demands, grinning from ear to ear as he leans over you again. You let yourself lay back on the mattress, and breathe. With his scent above you and in your memory, you allow yourself to let it all go. Let the pressure and the pride flow away.

"I need you, Harry. I need you so bad. Don't be mean, don't keep me empty... please?" You go against your own rationality, instead doing something that you've secretly longed your life to do, let someone else take control. Harry just stares at you, eyes nearly popping out of his sockets at your sly words. He swallows.

"Holy fuck... Of course, baby, I'll give you everything you need. Everything I have." He says, hiking up your dress and taking off your panties. Harry sits back, watching your wet cunt all spread out for him. He cannot believe you are here, lying in front of him with a hunger in your eyes that he only believed him to be capable of.

His thumb traces over your clit, slightly rubbing it. You gasp at the contact, it sending a shiver down your spine. With lazy eyes, you stare up at him, waiting for his next move. You squirm, the tender touch not being enough in the slightest. Harry laughs, tutting you as he shakes his head.

"Desperate little thing." He murmurs before sticking a finger inside your slick pussy. A strangled moan escapes your lips, your eyes falling shut at the feel of his long finger — and soon fingers, because he is quick to add another — pumping in and out of you. A string of sounds come from you as Harry keeps on digging his fingers in and out of you. He leans forward, his breath fanning against you ear.

"Is this good for you, sunshine?" He asks rhetorically, because the way you are crumbling under him is indication enough. He seems to know so too. "That's what I thought, baby. Just needed someone to take care of you, didn't you? Well, I'm here now. I'm not going anywhere."

His digits drive deeper into you, and you bit your lips to contain your moans at the combination of his fingers and his filthy words.

"Is that it, hmm? Need someone to take control? Take your mind off everything other than cumming over and over again?" Harry asks further, and you let out a strangled 'yes'. He chuckles lowly before leaning back, instead paying full attention to your pussy.

You let out somewhat of a scream when Harry's lips plant themselves onto your clit, your back arching from the sudden rush of pressure. Your orgasm is nearing, and Harry's lips will only have you riding out your high in no time.

"Oh my god... I'm going to cum—" but before you can even finish your sentence, Harry intensifies the suction on your clit, and soon you are coming all over his fingers. He makes sure to pump out your high, then softly taking his fingers out of you. You nearly come again at the sight of him sticking his own fingers into his mouth to taste your cum.

In a flash, you are reaching for his pants. You unbuckle his seatbelt and lower his pants and underpants, letting his cock spring free. You are about to return the favor he just gave you, but Harry puts your hands away.

"No foreplay for me, I just want to get inside of you." He says in a husky tone that has you melting for him. "Do you have a condom?"

Fuck.

"No." You say, your voice sounding strained as the word leaves your mouth. No! You can't believe you don't have a condom. Actually you can, because you didn't hook up with anyone in a really long time. But you couldn't not do this. You needed Harry inside of you. When he pulls away from you, you start to panic.

"No! Wait, no. Just get inside me. We can do it raw. I'm clean. I'll take the morning after pill." You start to plead, but it dies down when you see Harry grab his wallet and pull a condom out of it.

"You— you had a condom in your wallet?" You ask him hesitantly . He shakes his head.

"I have condoms in my car. I took some with me when you invited me in." He shrugs, wrapping the condom around his hard shaft. He leans over you once again, lining himself up with your slick cunt.

"You're sure about this?" He asks, the faintest hint of a smirk on his face, because at this point he is just making you suffer.

"Harry, stop teasing. I can't wait any longer, I need you so bad— ah!" You interrupt yourself with a loud moan when Harry pushes himself into you. He lets out an equal volume groan at the feel of his cock buried inside your pussy. He's been dreaming about this since forever. He never dared to dream he'd ram inside you after you begged for his cock. It strokes his ego in a way that nothing else ever had.

Harry begins pounding into you harshly, your whole body and bed moving along with his violent thrusts. You try to hold onto his arms for steadiness, but Harry has a different idea. He pulls up your dress over your head, but leaves it around your arms, forcing them to stay above your head. It restricts you from having further authority of how your body bounces around, and you are now completely at his mercy.

"This is it, huh? What you needed? Getting fucked so hard until the only thing your pretty mind can remember is my name?" Harry growls, throwing a leg over your shoulder so he can dive deeper into you. He succeeds at doing it, and his rewarded with a loud 'yes!' from you. "Just needed me to take the reins, right? So bratty for me during the day, but you just want to give all that control to me in between the sheets, don't you?"

You don't want to answer, and even if you did, you can't. Harry has been fucking you completely dumb for the past minutes and even the thought of a coherent sentence can't be processed right now. Harry laughs at the way you lay there,

"Don't try and deny it. The way you begged for my raw cock proves enough. Poor baby was nearly gonna cry at the thought of not getting my cock." Harry's thrusts become harder, having you nearly flying off the bed if it isn't for him holding you down by your hips. Your tits shake along and the sight of it is more than he can bare.

"Well you don't have to worry, sunshine. I'll  give it you whatever you want. Although, I'm sure that you'll be satisfied with whatever I choose to give you. You'll just lay there and take it, won't you?"

That's what does it for you. It takes you over the edge. Your eyes fall shut as you scream out Harry's name, and even the way he keeps on hammering into you fades for a second as the high hits you. By the time you see clearly again, you notice that Harry's pace hasn't faltered, and he is even circling your clit with his thumb.

With your jaw slack, you try to protest against the overstimulation, but every sound that comes out sounds like you are in total agreement with it. And you are, but you just haven't felt this much... ever.

"You need to cum with me, baby. I have to feel it." Harry orders. You scream out at the harshness of the circles he is rubbing, but the slight pain only inches you closer to the edge you had visited only a minute ago.

"G—gonna cum again, ah fuck!" You tell him, slowly opening your eyes to find his. "Come for me, come inside me. Please, please."

Harry's pupils dilate at the way you are begging for him. It is more than he can handle. His thrusts become sloppy as he lets out a string of curse words, hot spurts of cum spurting into the condom as he groans out your name. He lets himself fall forward, steadying himself with his arms, that lean against the bed on both sides of your body.

He leans forward, planting his lips against yours. The kiss is smooth and tender, filled with the love that has been pouring out since he saw you for the first time.

"I can't believe you're mine." Harry smiles at you like a fool as you run your hand through his soft hair. You cock an eyebrow, playfully.

"I wasn't aware we had established such labels yet." You argue, and Harry shakes his head, laughing at your need to have control over everything.

"I think that the fact that I'm still inside of you counts for establishment, does it not?" Harry counters with a smirk, leaving you speechless. Your silence soon turns into a chuckle, and you shut your eyes at how ridiculous this all is. Harry joins you in your laughter.

After a while, he pulls himself out of you carefully, studying your face to see if he is not accidentally hurting you. You hiss at the loss of the feel of him anyway, and it might hurt more mentally than physically to not have him fill you up anymore. It feels strangely empty. It is as that thought crosses your mind, you realize: you are utterly fucked. Literally and figuratively.

If you miss someone whose chest is still pressed against you, it is the result of the failure of your coping mechanism, and the success of years of trying. You look at Harry, who is now lying next to you, with big eyes.

"How did you do that?" You ask, scanning over his face.

"What?"

"Make love seem so easy." You blurt out before you can even become aware of what you just said. Your cheeks turn bright red once it dawns on you, and while you are sure your eyes radiate panic, his face is as calm and secure as ever.

"Because loving you is easy, sunshine." Harry answers simply. As if it isn't a big deal. As if he hasn't just confessed that he loves you. For some reason, he can't find it in himself to worry about you running away. It wouldn't have mattered if you did, he would have still said it. He just needed you to know.

Your eyes begin to water, and your ears are ringing in the aftermath of hearing a sentence you had always feared to be untrue. These past two years you had done nothing but keep your distance, from anything and everything, to the very point where you feared you could never change your mind if you wanted to. You were too far, and the wall around you was too tall for anyone to brave, including yourself.

And now you are lying next to someone who built a door between those bricks and waltzed through it as if entering his own house. How lucky you are to have someone change the construct of your mind's constraints and tell you it didn't feel hard, or difficult, or exhausting.

"Loving you sure is easier than tutoring you, Mr. Sunshine." You stifled out a laugh as your welled up eyes let a couple of tears roll over your face. Harry's mouth creeps up into a crooked smile, alike yours. He grabs your hips and pulls you on top of him.

"Mr. Sunshine, huh? Is that the title we are establishing?" He asks, stealing your answer away by interrupting you with a kiss. You let his lips run over yours, tongues dancing around each other, already having memorized each other's favorite steps. You lean back, nodding at him.

"You have always been more sunshine than me, anyway." You shrug, your fingers tracing over his chest. Harry's eyes analyze every bit of you, before locking with yours.

"Mr and Mrs. Sunshine, I like that." He hums in approval, his hands gliding up and down your upper thighs. You smile, leaning forward and letting yourself lay on top of him, head tucked in between his neck. Harry's hand immediately digs into your hair, toying with the strands as you take a deep breath. A full one, a safe one, a whole one. Harry's head shifts so his mouth his by your ear, and he whispers:

"I'll have you know that you are the biggest light of a person I know. You're not just Mrs. Sunshine, you are the sun, okay?"

You nod into his neck. "Okay."

[wonderlanddreamer]

The Rook

— Chapter One

Summary: Reeling from a recent loss and seeing no light at the end of the tunnel, Tommy drives with no end in sight. But what happens when he accidentally happens upon a quiet little pub and a barmaid with a smile like sunshine?

The biting wind whipped at Tommy Shelby’s coat, offering little protection against the icy despair that gnawed at his soul. Birmingham, usually a city pulsating with his ambition, felt suffocating. The weight of his decisions, the ghosts of his past, pressed down with the force of a collapsing mine shaft. He’d stared into the abyss, and it had stared back, promising oblivion – a welcome respite from the ceaseless turmoil.

He’d almost taken it. Almost yielded to the seductive whisper of darkness. The pistol, cold and heavy in his pocket, was a dreary reminder of how close he’d come. He’d driven aimlessly until the city lights faded, replaced by the inky blackness of the countryside.

Then, a single, flickering light emerged – a small, unassuming pub nestled beside a winding road. Its sign, barely visible in the gloom, read: The Rook. Curiosity, or perhaps a perverse instinct for self-preservation, compelled him to stop.

The building was low-slung and weathered, its stone walls stained by time. Mismatched window panes, steamed with condensation, hinted at warmth within, a contrast to the chill that permeated his bones. He hesitated, his hand instinctively resting on the pistol. The thought of seeking solace, of finding even a fleeting moment of peace, felt anomalous.

But bone-deep weariness, the crushing weight of his burdens, finally won. He pushed open the heavy oak door, the bell above it jingling a discordant welcome. The air inside was thick with the scent of stale beer, wood smoke, and something else… something indefinitely comforting.

A single barmaid, wiping down the counter with an expert hand, looked up. Rosemary King, with warm brown eyes and a kind smile that crinkled the corners of her eyes, her name was embroidered on her apron in faded script. The bar itself was a rich, dark wood, polished to a high sheen, but cluttered with personal touches – a small vase of wildflowers, a framed sepia photograph weighted down by a miniature porcelain cat. Everything felt carefully tended, cherished, and loved.

The pub itself was small, cosy, radiating warmth and a sense of belonging. Mismatched chairs, some worn leather, others sturdy wood, were grouped around small, round tables, each bearing a unique chipped teacup or a faded photograph tucked into a cracked frame. The walls, painted a comforting cream, were adorned with family portraits – generations of smiling faces peering down from faded frames, a tapestry of lives lived and loved within these walls. A grandfather clock in the corner, its pendulum swinging rhythmically, ticked away the seconds. The scent wasn't just of woodsmoke and damp earth; a hint of baking bread and something sweet, perhaps apple pie, also lingered, enhancing the homely atmosphere. It felt less like a public house and more like a haven; a family's carefully kept secret.

Tommy pulled up a stool at the bar, the worn leather surprisingly soft beneath him, and stared straight forwards. He didn’t order anything, just sat, lost in the shadowy depths of his own thoughts, the warmth of the fire a meagre counterpoint to the storm raging within him.

“Evening,” the barmaid greeted, her voice as welcoming as her smile. “What can I get for you?”

“Whiskey. Neat,” Tommy replied gruffly, his tone sharper than intended. He wasn’t here for pleasantries.

She didn’t flinch at his brusqueness. Instead, she nodded and turned to retrieve a glass, her movements graceful and unhurried. “Coming right up,” she said, pouring the amber liquid with an expert hand. As she slid the glass towards him, she added, “Not many find their way to The Rook. You must be looking for some solace.”

Her perceptiveness startled Tommy. It was as if she saw right through the hardened exterior he wore like armour. “Something like that,” he muttered, taking a sip of the whiskey. It burned, but it was a welcome sensation—a reminder that he was still here, still feeling, despite the darkness that lingered at the edges of his mind.

Rosemary leaned against the bar, her demeanour open and unassuming, exuding a warmth that seemed to soften the sharp edges of the world. “Well, you’ve come to the right place. We’re not much for noise around here.”

For reasons he couldn’t quite grasp, Tommy found himself unwinding, if only slightly. Her presence was soothing, a gentle balm on his troubled mind. She seemed to offer a refuge, however temporary, from the turmoil within. “You been here long?” he asked, more to keep the conversation going than out of genuine curiosity.

“Long enough to know the regulars and their stories,” she replied with a soft laugh. “But you’re new. What’s your story?”

He looked at her, really looked at her, and saw no judgement in her gaze—only an earnest interest that was both unnerving and oddly comforting. In her eyes, he saw a flicker of understanding, as if she recognized the weight he carried. “Just passing through,” he said, deflecting, as was his habit.

“Well, Mr. Passing Through, I hope you find whatever it is you’re looking for,” Rosemary said, a hint of playfulness in her tone. There was no pressure in her words, only a gentle encouragement, as if she truly wished for his peace. She straightened up and moved to attend to another customer, leaving Tommy alone with his thoughts and the unexpected warmth of her smile lingering in the air.

He sat for a long while, nursing his whiskey, the silence of The Rook a balm to his turbulent thoughts. Rosemary had checked on him twice, her kind smile a silent reassurance. He hadn't spoken much, but her presence, her quiet efficiency, had woven a thread of calm through the chaos within him. He couldn't articulate why, only that the pub's warmth had invaded him, a welcome intrusion he knew he'd need regularly.

He pushed himself up from his chair, the worn leather creaking a soft protest. He felt…lighter. The weight hadn’t vanished entirely, the ghosts of his past still whispered, but their voices were muted, dulled by the warmth he’d found within those four walls. The pistol, still heavy in his pocket, felt less like a solution and more like a forgotten burden.

He approached the bar, and Rosemary looked up, her brown eyes questioning. He gave a small, almost imperceptible nod, the gesture acknowledging her unspoken kindness. He placed a couple of shillings on the counter, more than the drink cost.

"Thank you," he rasped, his voice rough from disuse.

Rosemary smiled, a genuine, heartfelt smile that effortlessly reached her eyes. "Anytime."

Tommy stepped back out into the night, the cold air no longer biting, but bracing. The city lights in the distance no longer felt suffocating, but beckoned. He walked to his car, the decision to go home solidifying with each step. The Rook, and the unexpected peace he’d found there, had given him the strength he so desperately needed. He wasn't cured, not by a long shot, but the abyss had receded, at least for now, replaced by a faint, flickering hope. The drive home was quiet, the night a canvas of unshed shadows. He would face his problems; for tonight, home was enough.

[the-forest-library]

Look at the super fun reading trope teas I got for my birthday

[danii-issad]

[theladyofshalott1989]

"In Which There's a Spooky Surprise": A Sebastian Sallow x MC 🎃 All Hallow's Eve One-Shot

Summary: Married!Sebastian Sallow is in for a spooky surprise at Sirona's yearly All Hallow's Eve masquerade.

Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x Male MC (Damien Evans)

Word Count: 1,900

SFW

Note: You can also read this one-shot on AO3! If you enjoy it, please feel free to give it a kudo, a comment, or whatever floats your boat! (Please and thank you.) [ AO3 Link ]

Sebastian adjusted the mask on his face as he glanced around The Three Broomsticks, searching for his dashing husband. In theory, he should be able to spot Damien easily. But in practice, it didn’t quite pan out.

Firstly, he couldn’t very much wear his glasses over his mask, so the world was a bit blurrier than usual. Then, on top of that, Sebastian and Damien had agreed to not divulge their costumes to each other before meeting at Sirona’s All Hallow’s Eve masquerade event. 

All Hallow’s Eve, which also happened to be Sebastian and Anne’s birthday, was still a handful of days away, but Sebastian always enjoyed the holiday. Mostly because Damien loved to play dress up, which usually led to another—more sensual—experience. Obviously, that wasn’t likely to occur at Sirona’s esteemed establishment, but perhaps later, when they returned home. Oh yes, that would be positively glorious. Sebastian would trust the events of the night, wherever they may lead. 

At the time they’d decided to keep their costumes a secret, Sebastian had found the idea enticing. But past-Sebastian hadn’t known that he would have two errant potions explode in his face this afternoon. The clean-up had been exasperating, to put it kindly, and the subsequent scolding he’d given to his students for being so careless with their ingredients had set him in a sour mood. 

So, here he was, dressed as a “vampire.” Sebastian had thrown something together with very little thought: black trousers, a black shirt, black, leather gloves, and—yes, you guessed it!—a long black coat and boots. He didn’t bother with fangs. He'd debated adding a dab of strawberry jam just below his bottom lip, but he knew it wouldn’t be there long, especially if he ever found Damien. His husband simply adored everything sweet; it was a wonder he’d ended up married to Sebastian, as grumpy and irascible as he could be. But, to be fair, Damien often brought out Sebastian’s agreeable side. Not that Sebastian would ever admit that out loud. 

And then, of course, there was this damned mask, which was currently pinching his nose. He adjusted it again with a sigh.

“Hm,” a woman in a gaudy purple dress with long trailing coattails said as she appeared before Sebastian. Her mask was designed in the shape of a giant orange bow tie. 

Sebastian chuckled quietly to himself. It was clearly Sirona. Only Sirona would dare to don Peeves's garish attire. And, since she was the host of this party, she must be greeting everyone upon their arrival.

“Let me guess,” she continued, inspecting him up and down. “Death! No, no, wait! A crow.”

Sebastian released a hearty chuckle. “Not even close. I’m—”

Mirabel, her long red hair a conspicuous giveaway, swooped in, cutting Sirona off with a recitation delivered in a shockingly accurate Transylvanian accent: “Listen to them, the children of the night. What music they make!"

Sebastian’s eyebrows shot up. “Mirabel, you know Dracula?” 

"I re-read it every year!" she exclaimed, beaming under her green mask adorned with what seemed to be actual vines. She must be a Shakespearean character. Perhaps Queen Titania? Or wait... no, Puck seemed more her style.

He gave it a try. "Lord, what fools these mortals be!"

Mirabel clapped deliriously. "Oh, well done! Well done, Sebastian!"

Sirona started tapping her foot on the floor. "I’m waiting."

Sebastian rubbed his chin in mock contemplation. He wracked his brain for one of Peeves’s more well-known phrases, settling on, "Naughty, naughty, you’ll get caught-y."

Sirona quirked a smile, patted Sebastian on the back, and before departing—her arm looped through Mirabel’s—whispered in his ear, "Damien's upstairs, haunting the corridors."

Damien was a ghost then, Sebastian mused to himself. That costume should be easy enough to find. 

It turned out Sebastian was sorely mistaken. He downed the final dregs of his Butterbeer. Damien was still nowhere to be found. Damien wasn’t avoiding him, was he? They hadn’t had an argument lately… Had Sebastian forgotten something? No, their anniversary was last month. He’d given Damien a beautiful hardback edition of his favorite novel, The Picture of Dorian Gray. So, if Damien wasn’t cross with him, where was he? 

Sebastian deftly maneuvered past a few other partygoers, weaving back and forth through the buzzing crowd. He couldn't recall ever seeing the inn this packed, but he supposed it was good for business. Sebastian had already indulged in three Butterbeers within the past half hour, and he was now debating when—if at all—it would be acceptable to have another without appearing overly eager.

As Sebastian made his way up the stairs, his mind wandered, until something caught his attention: a shadow, barely visible, drifting past the edge of his vision. He froze, eyes narrowing as he focused on a figure up ahead wrapped in what appeared to be a long, flowing white sheet, gliding soundlessly down the hallway and into a room. A chill crept up his spine, but curiosity overpowered caution. Without thinking, Sebastian hurried forward.

The hallway seemed to stretch unnaturally as he approached, the friendly chatter from the crowded stairwell and the room below replaced by a suffocating silence that pressed against his ears. He slipped into the room after the mysterious figure, but found it... empty. Completely and unnervingly empty. Had he imagined the haunting apparition? The stillness of the room was stifling, as if the very air itself was holding its breath.

Before Sebastian could fully process the strangeness of it all, the door behind him slammed shut with a deafening thud. The sound echoed through the hollow room. Sebastian’s heart lurched into his throat. He spun around, but the door remained still, shadowed and menacing, as if it were mocking him. His unease deepened, crawling up his skin like long, spindly spider legs. He shuddered. 

With a shaky breath, Sebastian approached the door, hand trembling as it hovered over the handle. He twisted the knob, then pushed. The door creaked open easily. Too easily. Was he expecting it to be locked, trapping him here? He chuckled quietly to himself. Of course not! The door must have slammed shut due to a breeze from the window. He glanced back over his shoulder to confirm his theory. 

The solitary window in the room stared back at him. It was closed. There was no breeze. There was no reason for the door to have shut in such a forceful manner. There was no reason for the door to have shut at all. How peculiar. A cold sweat beaded on Sebastian's forehead, and despite his best efforts, he couldn’t shrug off the tension growing in his shoulders.

After one last long glimpse, Sebastian exited the room, swallowing his unease. Damien wasn’t here, and lingering any longer seemed... unwise.

But as he stepped into the hallway and back down the stairs, something seemed terribly wrong. The once bustling stairwell, crammed with people, had become a yawning void. Not a single soul remained. Where did everyone go? 

“Hello?” he called out, his voice cracking. No answer came. Only a vast, unsettling silence.

His steps grew quicker, but the sound of his footsteps seemed too loud, too isolated in the emptiness. He descended the last few steps, his heart pounding louder with each tread, until he reached the bottom. 

And then: a chorus of voices. Too loud, too synchronized, as if they’d been waiting for him all along.

"SURPRISE!"

Sebastian stumbled backward as someone cast Lumos and the room flickered to life, revealing dozens of unmasked familiar faces gathered before him. Damien stood at the forefront, a white sheet draped over his shoulder, a mischievous grin on his face as he held up a massive birthday cake—chocolate, of course—adorned with candles, also now lit.

"Happy birthday, Bash!" Damien exclaimed, signaling to the assembled guests with a nod of his head, his hands currently occupied. "Did we surprise you?”

Sebastian nearly collapsed from relief. “It’s not my birthday until next week,” he stammered back, clutching his chest. 

“The better to surprise you with, my dear." Damien leaped forward and pecked Sebastian gently on the lips, somehow managing to not drop the cake or set Sebastian on fire in the process. Placing the cake on a table, he allowed Sebastian to snuff out the candles, then conjured a serving knife. “Who wants a slice?” he asked amid the crowd breaking out into scattered conversations. 

Sebastian took three deep breaths in succession. 

Unsurprisingly, Damien noticed Sebastian’s sorry attempt at a recovery. “Alright, love?” he asked, brow furrowed. 

“Alright now,” Sebastian replied, waving off Damien’s concern. It wouldn't do to spoil Damien's romantic gesture. 

Damien’s gaze lingered on Sebastian for a moment, scrutinizing his face. Sebastian must have schooled his expression well enough—the mask, which he was still wearing, may have helped a little—to convince Damien he was telling the truth, for only a few seconds passed before Damien nodded, then resumed cutting the cake.

Sebastian glanced around the busy room to take in the throng of people. The only loved ones missing appeared to be Anne and Ominis. Sebastian presumed they were at home with Leigh and Albert. The other week, Ominis had confided in him that Al, barely a year old now, was having a rough streak of sleepless nights. If Anne and Ominis needed to stay home to get some rest, so be it. Sebastian didn’t blame them. They could always have a smaller, more intimate birthday celebration later. 

Once everyone had a slice of cake—Damien cutting the largest slice for Sebastian, but stealing a bite or two when he thought Sebastian wasn’t looking—Sebastian finally mustered the strength to smile. His shoulders relaxed.

Damien met his gaze, his mouth full of cake. 

“Thank you,” Sebastian said.

Damien swallowed. “Of course,” he replied. “Anything for my brilliant husband.”

“Maybe not so brilliant.” He let out a nervous laugh. “Did you know, I nearly sent myself on a wild goose chase?”

“Oh?”

“I thought I saw someone enter a room upstairs, but it was just my imagination.”

“No, that was me," Damien said through a chuckle, rubbing at his stubbled chin. 

“What?” Sebastian shoved him lightly. “Be serious, D. It was terrifying.” Damien had never been much for stealth; he lit up a room far too effortlessly.

“Terrifying? Little old me?” Damien's eyes sparkled; he looked far too pleased with himself. It was both delightful and infuriating. He continued: “I had to cause a diversion so everyone could hide!” 

Sebastian blinked, taken aback. “How did you ever manage?” 

“I Disillusioned myself, of course,” Damien said, smirking devilishly. “Had to, really. I’m rather conspicuous, you see.” He grabbed his belly and shook it, releasing a hearty laugh. “Especially lately.” 

Sebastian grinned. “I wouldn’t have it any other way. And good thing you learned that spell from me.” He mussed Damien’s hair in an affectionate manner. “You’re welcome.”

“You old softie,” Damien teased, his cheeks turning a rosy shade of pink. He grabbed Sebastian’s hand and planted a soft kiss on the back of it. “Thank you, my love.” 

Sebastian pulled Damien in for a real kiss, not this hand-kissing nonsense. “I positively adore you, my own personal ghost-husband,” he murmured against Damien’s lips.

“Love you too, my…” he trailed off, inspecting Sebastian with narrowed eyes, “vampire?” he finished, one eyebrow raised. 

“I knew you’d get it.” Sebastian smiled, leaned forward, and gently nipped Damien’s neck. “You’re mine now. Eternally.”

Damien burst into an infectious peal of laughter. “I’m not so sure the mechanics of that works with ghosts, but I catch your drift.” He flicked Sebastian’s nose. “Eternity sounds perfect.”

[ AO3 Link ]

[ Read the whole series ]

Happy Halloween!

[merleneish]

My favourite romance trope is reversed grumpy sunshine/sun moon dynamic, where the fmc is the smart loner and the mmc is the caring, cheerful person. There can be a lot of variations on those two and being the sunshine doesn't mean you gotta be caring and cheerful, the same for moon.

The reason I like it sm is bc when it's done right, the fmc isn't exactly feminine and the mmc is if that makes sense? And it's nice to see bc every fmc I see is feminine and it's good to be feminine, I love femininity and it's such an important quality for everyone to have, but that's the thing why are only the women feminine?

It's nice when we see a mood fmc that acts exactly like a mood mmc would act and the same for the sunshine character. Ofc there are differences in the way people act because of the way society effects them, but those experiences can be acknowledged while also treating people as just humans Yk? Don't write the fmc as a moon fmc, write her as a moon character that happens to be female, and has struggled that reflect that too.

I hope I explained myself well lol

Also when grumpy/moon is soft for sunshine. My favourite thing ever. And he actually appreciates it bc they're not usually like that and it's kinda like I have everyone but you trope as well but not in an engsty teen way but in an Introverted person that has a hard time with emotions that happens to be a girl, that cares for someone deeply that's usually caring and sweet and soft that happens to be a guy

[mads-hemmo]

It’s Nice to Have a Friend - Jschlatt

Part 3

Reader has been lonely their whole life. They have never been in a relationship. They don’t understand why no one will love them but their best friend, Schlatt has always been in love with them.

Masterlist

Schlatt lets you both in. “What are you doing here?” He asks Ted.

“I’ve been on a roadtrip with Tucker and I just dropped him off. I thought while I was in New York, I would come visit my buddy, Schlatt,” Ted says.

“Why didn’t you at least call first?” Schlatt asks.

“I wanted it to be a surprise. I just didn’t think you would be having company.” Ted turns to look at you.

“Oh I can go home, so you two can spend some time together,” you say. You are still wearing your backpack full of your sleepover necessities, so it would be easy to just leave.

“Nonsense. We can all hang out together. What did you crazy kids have planned anyways?”

Schlatt gives you a look like he wants to keep some things between you two. That thing being the coloring books in your backpack. “We were going to order some sushi. Not sure what else,” you tell Ted.

Ted nods. “That sounds great. I’m just excited to get to know Schlatt’s best friend.”

“Let’s go to the living room,” Schlatt says. The three of you take a seat on his couch while he orders the sushi on DoorDash.

“So (Y/N), what do you do for work?” Ted asks you.

“I’m a hairdresser.”

“Oh cool. Did you dye your own hair? I like the blue tips.”

“Oh yeah I did. Thank you. I have a pretty lenient schedule. Gives me more time to do my various hobbies.”

“What are your various hobbies then?” Ted asks, focusing on you.

“Oh god. I have so many. I crochet, I read, I play piano and I recently started coloring,” you tell him.

“Interesting. How do you have time to do all that?”

“I create my own schedule so I can work as many or as little hours as I choose. I’ve been at my shop for a while so they let me do what I want,” you tell Ted.

“That’s one thing I like about YouTube. I can pretty much work whenever I please.”

“Yeah it’s good for you since you barely upload,” Schlatt replies.

You let out a laugh. Ted looks between the two of you. “I upload. I just don’t want to spoil my viewers and make them get bored of the incredible content I make.”

“I must admit. As one of your viewers, it’s a little treat when you actually post,” you tell him.

He gives you a big smile. “Thank you. I’m glad to know I have such good looking viewers,” Ted winks at you.

Schlatt narrows his eyes at Ted as you blush a bit. “So Ted, how was your road trip?” Schlatt asks, getting the attention off of you.

“It was really fun. Tucker and I just drove around the US, exploring random places. Have you ever taken a road trip?” Ted asks you.

“Unless you count me helping Schlatt move back to New York. Not really. I’ve never really had the time or the money to do so,” you admit. Schlatt had promised you a trip to Japan at some point. However, you told him you wanted to raise the money yourself. You knew Schlatt would pay for everything, but you didn’t want to use him.

“You should go on one! They are a lot of fun! You could join me on my next one. I’ll even let Schlatt come along,”

“They don’t want to ride in your old truck. They might fall through the hole in the passage seat,” Schlatt chimes in.

“I’m not that tiny,” you pout.

“And I’m not huge, Toots,” Schlatt says. You flip him off.

The doorbell rings, alerting you all that the sushi had finally arrived. Schlatt gets up to answer the door. Ted turns to face you. “My truck does not have a huge hole and you’re welcome to ride in it any time,” he tells you, loud enough for Schlatt to still hear him.

Schlatt returns and places the sushi on the coffee table. “I got a lot of different rolls so we can all just share. That’s usually what (Y/N) and I do anyways,” he says.

“Awesome. Thanks Schlatt,” Ted says. “What was Schlatt like as a kid?”

“Not much different than he is now. He has always been quiet, but also Incredibly funny. He also was just as loyal and dependable as he is now. I have always been proud to call him my best friend,” you admit. Even though it may be sappy, you never pass up the opportunity to brag on your best friend. You had said similar things to Paige at work. You hated being single some days, but you hated Schlatt being single even more. He’s such a great guy who deserves to be loved by someone.

“Wow, don't get all soft, Toots. Don’t let them lie to you, I’ve always been an asshole. They’re the one who’s all those things and so much more,” Schlatt says, making your heart skip a beat. When he says things like this, it makes you jealous of his future partner. You know he’s going to be such a great husband to his spouse.

“You do seem really great (Y/N). I’m glad I got to meet you tonight,” Ted tells you. You feel your cheeks getting redder. Ted is obviously flirting with you right? You weren’t the best at judging if people were flirting, but you felt like he was. Ted is a very good looking guy and one of Schlatt’s friends so maybe you should flirt back.

“You seem really great yourself, Ted. Glad that you interrupted our hangout,” you tell him.

“Ted, were you planning on staying the night?” Schlatt asks.

“I was hoping I could. I have my bags in the car,” Ted says.

“That’s fine. It’s just (Y/N) was going to spend the night and they usually sleep in the guest bed.”

“I can sleep on the couch. I am tiny after all,” you say. Schlatt’s couch is comfortable and you don’t mind.

“You’re not sleeping on the couch. Ted can sleep on the couch.”

“How about Ted takes the guest room and we can share your bed? We used to do it all the time when we were kids. I always stay on my side of the bed so it won't be an issue,” you offer.

Schlatt doesn’t look convinced. “Or we can share the guest bed,” Ted says to you.

“(Y/N), that’s a great idea. We did it all the time as kids. Why not as adults? What’s the worst that could happen?” Schlatt says.

The three of you decide to watch a movie. Schlatt lets you choose and Ted agrees. That is how you end up watching Tangled. Even though you don’t know Ted very well, you don’t let that stop you from singing along. You smile to yourself when you hear Schlatt humming to himself. The singing keeps you awake. A few times during the movie, your hand accidentally touches Ted’s as you both grab for some sushi. He lets you have it every time.

After the movie, you all get ready for bed. “Night Schlatt, Night (Y/N), sleep tight,” Ted says, before going to the guest room.

“Good night, Ted. It was nice meeting you,” you tell him, going to Schlatt’s room.

“Ted’s single right?” You ask Schlatt, while washing your face in his on suite bathroom.

“Yeah, why?” He asks.

“Just wondering. Did you see how he was flirting with me tonight? Maybe he was just being nice, but it really seemed like he was flirting with me.”

“I think he was just being nice, Bub. He has a flirty personality.”

You sigh. “You’re probably right. I just thought maybe. He’s your friend, so he’s obviously a good guy. He’s also pretty attractive.”

Schlatt just looks at you. “He lives way too far away. You don’t want your first boyfriend living across the country. You need someone who you can go on dates with and that will spoil you here.”

You just nod. “You’re right. I was just being optimistic. Thank you for always looking out for me.” You kiss him on the cheek as you walk back into his room. You miss the way his entire face turns red and the way he stays paralyzed for a second.

He takes a deep breath and walks into the room. You have already tucked yourself in. You have unintentionally put yourself on the opposite side that Schlatt usually sleeps. He makes his way into the bed and lays beside you.

“You know you can take your shirt off. It’s not like it’s nothing I haven’t seen before,” you tell him. He nods, before pulling his shirt off. “Comfy?”

“Yeah,” he lets out.

“Awesome. I sleep like a rock, so don’t worry about me cuddling you in the middle of the night. Also sorry if I snore,” you tell him.

He laughs slightly. “It’s okay. I’m sure I snore as well.”

“Night Jay.”

“Night Toots,” he says. After a little while when he thinks you are asleep, he mutters softly, “I love you.” Before pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head.

You lay still, pretending to be asleep. Surely he means it in a friendly way, right? You choose to ignore it and drift off to sleep.

A/N: ahhh I love writing this story!! Parts might start being not as frequent as I have to go back to work next week. Boo!! Anyways thank you so much for enjoying this! Let me know what you think!

[anonymityisfunwriter]

Flufftober - Only One Bed

Pairing - Grumpy!Bucky Barnes x Sunshine!Reader A.N. - You know, I’ve been in a bit of a writing slump lately and like writing fluffy drabbles just scratches the right part of my brain. Can someone tell me the science behind that? @flufftober

Grumpy Sunshine Universe | Bucky Barnes Masterlist

"James," you gasp, gripping Bucky's arm as you enter the designated safe house for the night.

His eyes immediately begin darting around the room, looking for the source of panic. "What?"

"There's only one bed!"

His eye flash over to you, immediately relaxing from his panic. There's a part of him that really wants to be annoyed with you for scaring him, but he can't help the unwitting smirk that tugs at the corner of his mouth. "We live together. We sleep in the same bed every night."

"Well, forgive me for trying to keep things interesting."

He runs his tongue over his teeth, forcing a half hearted, mostly affectionate, grimace, “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

Grumpy Sunshine Series Grumpy Sunshine Drabbles

Taglist: @marianita195 @meli18gonzalez @ludicbouquetfromearth @matchat3a @famousbreadcherryblossomsstuff @valoraxx @blue786sworld @buckyandgeraltsupremacy @geminigengar @ansaturn @ecolle @lexhalstead3 @ybflkmj @mediocre-daydreams@shanye1112 @thegirlnextdoorssister @toomanyfanficsbruh @moonlightreader649 @breathtaking-cynthia @mirikusashes @beans-and-toast @niyahcoca @katiechikin @elxvrr @antiheroxsblog @infamouslyclumsy @krissydclayton93 @buckysbarne @deadheadwbedhead @qualitygiantshoepsychic @whitexwolfxx310 @getosprettyboy @matchat3a @weallhaveadestiny @mostlymarvelgirl @honeydew3064 @michealharrypotter @mrs-bucky-barnes-73 @withyoutilltheendoftheline @the-photo-hoe @rae-nna @sarachabeans1@double-shot-of-tequila @spookyparadisesheep @lunaalovesyouu @daisy-loves-bucky@roseproseposts @theoraekenslover@king814318 @maybesomedaytho @carlie-babes99 @sunshinechikin @as-white-as-snow-love @melala1030 @badasswlthafatass @armystay89 @multiversefanfics @cherrysscinema @breathlesspieceofdeath @ravenn-darkholme @bxckybxrnes24 @guiltyasreid @bellabarnes1378 @blithecapricorn @mrsnikstan @marvelatthem

[museandquill]

Bingo!

Thank you @kaylinalexanderbooks here

Rules: fill out the bingo card for your WIP/OC, then use this bingo site to create your own!

I couldn’t find the link for the website so here’s a fantasy Bingo from Writer Writes

Tagging: @aster-wright-writes @reginakoilos @thecomfywriter

[wolvietxt]

⋆𐙚₊˚ grumpy x sunshine prompts!

overprotective: sunshine is about to do something a little reckless, and grumpy steps in with a stern look, insisting they’ll go first because there’s no way they’re letting sunshine get hurt

secret talent: sunshine finds out grumpy has a hidden skill, like playing an instrument or drawing. sunshine keeps encouraging them to show it off, and grumpy tries to act like it’s no big deal but secretly enjoys the praise

comforting silence: sunshine is unusually quiet, and grumpy notices something is wrong. without pushing for an explanation, grumpy sits close by, providing silent support until sunshine is ready to talk

last-minute save: sunshine almost misses an important event because they forgot or were running late. grumpy shows up just in time to help them out, grumbling about sunshine's lack of planning while making sure everything goes smoothly

unexpected laughter: grumpy is having a rough day, but sunshine tells a ridiculous joke or does something silly, and to everyone’s surprise, grumpy actually laughs - loud and genuine - despite trying to stay serious

[purplecoffee13]

Mr Sunshine - Part Three

Summary: “Harry takes you somewhere to celebrate, and it leads to some clarifying revelations.”

Wc: 5k (I’m guessing)

Tropes: grumpy!mc x sunshine!H

Warnings: talks about being drugged, SA, trauma

A/N: Hi! I’m back😎. Here’s the new sunshine chapter and the next one will be coming soon (and will be steamy! Be prepared!)

Series Masterlist

General Masterlist

************************************************

On Saturday evening, at 3:34 p.m. to be exact, Harry calls you. You aren’t quite sure why you remembered the exact minute. Perhaps it has to do with the fact that you rarely ever received calls from anyone that wasn’t your family. You had never thought it to be pathetic, but knowing the exact time at which he called made you realize that maybe it was.

You stare at your phone with a frown on your face. What on earth could Harry be calling you for? Once out of your state of shock, you scramble to grab your phone and answer his call.

“Hello?” You say, in a rather confused tone. For a second you wonder if something terrible has happened. Maybe he is in the hospital!

“Guess what.” Harry says from the other side of the line in his usual chipper tone. You roll your eyes and let yourself fall back onto your bed. You guess you’re glad he isn’t dying, but what on earth could he be calling you for then? And now you had to guess it? This guy could never just cut to the chase.

“What?” You huff.

“You have to guess, otherwise it’s not fun.” He insists, a breathy chuckle escaping his throat. “So… guess!”

“The world is ending.” You reply in your staple, monotone voice, laced with a thick layer of sarcasm. A sigh sounded from the other end of the phone.

“Is there not an ounce of positivity in your entire body?”

“What?” You faked your offense, trying to get on his nerves for once. “You told me to guess.”

“But why is it that something sinister like imminent doom is the first thing that comes to your mind?” He asks, sounding genuinely puzzled about it. You fight your lips from quirking up.

“I mean, it’s bound to happen eventually.” You shrug, even though he can’t see you. “I figure, if I guessing it, one day I ought to be right.”

“I will never be asking you to guess anything ever again.”

“Smart boy.” You praise him. “Now are you gonna tell me what’s up?”

“Right, yes.” Harry takes a deep breathe. “I passed— the test, I mean. I got an A.”

You smile, but try your hardest not to let it show in the way you talk. “I told you you were gonna ace it, dumb ass.

“Thanks… I think?” Harry replies after a few seconds of silence born out of confusion. He chuckles ever so awkwardly, shaking his head at your unusual ways. You can’t see it of course, but he is grinning from ear to ear. You are the first one he called actually. There was no one in the world he would’ve rather told first. Not even his mom, who had been drilling him about the exam for the past weeks.

“Yeah, never doubt you teacher again.” You say sarcastically, laughing along with your friend on the line.

“I won’t, I promise.” Harry assures you. “But it’s not the only reason I called you, though.”

Your swear you feel your heart stand still for a second. An overwhelming amount of anxiety takes over your body the second the sentence falls from Harry’s mouth and you find yourself beginning to sweat.

“Oh?” Is all you manage to say.

“I am also calling to tell you that you need to be ready by eight.”

“Why?”

“We are going to celebrate of course!” Harry’s voice rings through your phone and your eyes close as you let out a little sigh and mutter an ‘oh God’.

“God won’t release you from the wrath of my grip, sunshine.” You quite literally hear the smirk in his voice.

“Now who’s being sinister?” You say, shaking your head slowly.

“Well, I learned from the best, didn’t I?”

“And the brightest.” You add cheekily.

“Sure. Be ready at 8.” Harry reminds you. You give him a small ‘yes’ as a confirmation, but before you can hang up, Harry adds: “oh, and don’t bring your ego, it won’t fit in the car.”

You let out a loud sigh in response and hang up the phone, but your cheeks are burning and your mouth hurts. Weird, your mouth never hurts. You catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror and instantly relax those muscles. This is ridiculous. You will not be giggling over some guy.

“Stupid girl.” You murmur, pointing to your own reflection in the mirror.

But your confrontation with yourself does not quite stop you from counting down the hours until it is acceptable to get ready. You take a long shower and blow dry your hair, instead of letting it dry like you normally do. You also apply more make-up than you do on the regular. You would wear more make-up on a daily basis—you love to use it—but you have a tendency to oversleep.

Instead of the usual five to ten, it actually takes you fifteen minutes to pick out an outfit. There is a dress that has been hanging in your closet for far too long. And you really want to wear it, as this is the first time in almost a year that you have made concrete plans with a friend. The thought of it pains your stomach. God you have really isolated yourself ever since…

Oh well, that’s all changed now. You actually have a friend these days, or at least you think?

Nevertheless, you spend ten of the fifteen minutes wondering if the dress is not too much (it is the most casual dress you have hanging in your closet), and then you spend the remaining five actually putting the piece of clothing on your body.

It is 7:30pm by the time you give yourself one last look in the mirror. You put on a comfortable pair of high boots and wait on the couch until Harry arrives. You sent him your address after the call, and so far you haven’t gotten any messages about him being lost, so you think he’s good.

Sure enough, at 8:00pm on the dot, the bell rings. You force yourself to slowly walk to your door—you have no idea why—and take a breath before you open it up.

Upon opening the door, you are met with Harry’s wide smile—which he always wears. His hands are in his pocket and you watch his mouth slowly open—as if to say something—and close again before letting his eyes trail down your body. He looks quite surprised. You don’t blame him—you aren’t often in clothes like these.

Harry himself is dressed up a bit too. Not as much, but he doesn’t need to if he wants to look good; he just kind of does. The all black outfit works for him. The short sleeved dress shirt and the pants go perfectly together, as do the boots and belt he paired them with. You’re almost jealous of him for making such a simple outfit look so fabulous.

“You look…” Harry says, then trails off while he does a weak attempt at trying to find your eyes again. You are the most beautiful person he’s ever seen, how can that be? “Wow.”

“Wow?” You echo.

“Unexpected.”

“I look unexpected?” The corner of your mouth lifts but you hold it as best as you can.

“No— I mean yes— wait…” He frown, as lost in his words as you are, and thinks for a second before offering his final answer. “Yes, you look unexpected.”

“In a way that makes me want to say ‘thank you’ or throw the door in your face?” You tilt your head ever so slightly. Harry chuckles and shakes his head.

“I just mean to say that you always look good, and tonight you look good in an unexpected way.” You notice his cheeks turning a bit pink, and in turn so do your own. You have to bite the inside of your cheek to refrain yourself from giggling like a fucking idiot.

“Well, thank you, then.” You say. Harry murmurs a ‘your welcome’ and nods his head to the car before taking a few steps back, signaling you walk with him. You close your front door, lock it, and follow him to his car. He opens the door for you, and upon entering the car you don’t forget to tell him that he’s an ‘idiot’, but your heart flutters anyway.

Harry is mysteriously vague about where he’s planning on taking you, and he doesn’t say anything other than ‘you’ll see’ the entire drive. Your stomach drops when you finally do see.

You are parked in front of the frat house that was throwing a party tonight. You were already confused as to why you guys were driving through campus, but now you know why; it’s the quickest way to get there.

Your terror filled stare finds Harry’s face, who wears some sort of a pride filled smirk, but it fades a bit at the sight of you. You are starting to freak out. What the hell does he think he’s doing?

“Hey, it’s okay.” He says in a soft voice, but you just shake your head. Instead of saying anything else, he steps out of the car and walks to the door on your side, opening it for you. He holds out his hand, and despite the slight panic that has been ringing through your body, you take it. Harry leads you to the trunk of the car. He lets go of your hand to open it, and when he does, you’re met with three cool-boxes, all lined up in a row. When he takes off all the lids, you see what is inside.

Every cool-box has different drinks in them. The far left one has got water, sparkling water, and water with different tastes to it. The middle one has all kinds of sodas, and the one on the right is filled with juices and smoothies. Apple juice, orange juice, a mango and banana smoothie… you name it.

Your mouth hangs slightly open, taking in the view of the trunk. You want to form a full sentence but your mind can’t comprehend much right now.

“What…” You begin to say, but your mind trails off.

“You said you don’t drink at parties, at all.” Harry turns his body towards you, despite the fact that you are still staring at the cool-boxes. “I don’t know why that is—and you don’t have to tell me—but I assumed it had something to do with a bad experience. Anyway— I thought this was the perfect solution. This way we can stay hydrated and nothing can happen to the drinks because the car is locked. You can keep the car key in your purse if that makes you more comfortable.”

You don’t say anything, just stare at him with wide eyes. Harry isn’t quite certain what your take on the matter is, and it is starting to make him doubt his decisions.

“I— I’m sorry if this crosses a line. I just really wanted to bring you along and meet my friends.” He scratches the back of his neck as a nervous tic. His jaw is clenched the entire time as he looks back into your eyes. Your gaze is terrifying to him, in spite of it seeming softer than normal.

“Thank you, dork.” You say after finally being able to gather your breath. It makes you realize that you are utterly screwed. You like Harry. As more than a friend? Maybe? You don’t know, you haven’t experienced something like that before, but you know that your connection with Harry runs deeper than you had planned.

“My pleasure, sunshine.” Harry responds, and his dimples start to show. Your head turns back to the cool-boxes, hoping Harry can’t see the blood that has rushed to your cheeks. You start eyeing all the drinks, but settle on water in the end.

“Can I?” You ask ever so hesitantly. Harry gets all fuzzy the second you ask the question, and happily nods. He watches with a big smile as you reach for the water and open up the bottle, sitting against the trunk as you take a few sips.

There is no exchange of words between the two of you, only glances. But those tell you a thousand things, though. He seems to be pleased, and your eyes tell him that you are too. In a burst of spontaneity—and something else that you are not sure of what it is—you begin to confess.

“Uhm, in my first year, I went to this party at a frat house, and someone spiked my drink.” You say, and Harry’s head flies to you. He is frowning. You aren’t sure whether that is just him concentrating or actually being shocked by your statement. You decide to take your eyes off him and keep looking straightforward. “I was unconscious and then when I woke up, I was lying on a bed with this random guy over me…”

Harry’s hand is balled up into a fist, initially because of the nervousness, but now he’s hurting himself with how hard his nails press into his palm. He never really gets angry, but these are situations in which he just can’t hide his pure unfiltered rage.

“But I did scream, a—and I said no. But it was a bit slurred, I think.” You say with wide eyes, still staring into the distance. You always quick to defend yourself on this topic, even though Harry hasn’t uttered a word yet. It is kind of preventive, you assume. That way no one can ask you what you did ‘to stop it’ and you won’t have to break out in tears, because questions like those form a lump in your throat that you fear will never go away.

“He should have never gotten alone with you in the first place, sunshine. He’s the one at fault here, not you.” Harry assures you, and your gaze automatically searches for his. It doesn’t feel quite as scary anymore to look him in the eyes. You suppose it always has felt safe.

“And he is also a dead man walking, if I ever find him.”

Your eyebrows raise at his aggressive comment. Harry had never talked about anything remotely resembling to violence. It truly catches you off guard, but it also makes your heart warm to see that he is so adamant about defending you.

“Anyway…” you trail off, hoping to calm him down a bit with the positive end to your story. “two girls in the hallway heard me and they got him off me. My roommate at the time brought me to the ER, and after that I went home.”

You temporarily pause when you hear the sigh that comes from Harry’s mouth. It doesn’t sound bored or rude, rather tired. Like he feels the weight of the burden you have carried on your shoulder for so long. Besides your parents and your former roommate, no one knows this story.

“After that, I didn’t really want to drink or go anywhere anymore. Eventually I got over my fear of going to social events, but I still don’t want to drink anything. Maybe it’s paranoid, I don’t know.” You shrug, massaging your neck a bit, mainly out of awkwardness.

“It’s not paranoia’, it’s trauma.” Harry bents down to meet your eye level, making sure you see him when he says the reassuring words. The logical part of your brain knew that, but sometimes you would get frustrated. You hated how long you had let this experience rule your life for the past three years, and quite frankly you were embarrassed about it.

You felt like getting drugged that night shattered what you thought you knew about yourself, and still do. You don’t trust yourself like you did before. That night was the ultimate example of your incompetence; it showed you that you couldn’t be trusted with yourself. It took years of therapy to mend that broken view, and the destructive thinking pattern would re-enter your brain at times.

“I don’t have many friends, none actually; my past experiences made it a bit tricky.” You blurt out, and turn red when you see Harry smile at you with his furrowed brows. “I mean— what I’m trying to say is: thank you.”

“For what?” He nudges you in your waist. You shake your head at him, a faint smirk lingering on your lips from his teasing touch.

“For being a friend.” You say, and Harry’s mouth falls open.

“Did you just refer to me as a friend?!” He gasps dramatically, leaning into you as the sentence leaves his mouth. You close your eyes and let your head fall back.

“Oh god.” You mutter tiredly. Here we go.

“Can you say that again? I want to record this.” He whips out his phone and you put your hands over your face as you let out a groan.

“You know you’re basically saying you love me more than anyone else in the world right now.” He begins to annoy you, knowing damn well what he is doing. You refuse to answer him, not wanting to play into these antics of his. “I’m interpreting your silence as a yes, by the way.”

“You know what? I’m gonna walk home.” You push yourself off the trunk. You want to walk away a few steps for dramatic effect, and like you expected, Harry puts a stop to his teasing. You don’t expect him to pull you back by your waist and turn you around towards him, though. It catches you off guard and you can’t do anything but stare at him with wide eyes.

“You’re not going anywhere.” He says, voice rougher than just a few seconds ago. Your hands are still on his chest from trying to catch yourself when he spun you towards him. The proximity of it all slowly starts to get to you, and suddenly you’re aware of how good Harry smells. He always smells good, but right now it is causing a physical reaction from you. You feel yourself start to get hot, as if the temperature just rose a couple degrees.

“Let’s go inside.”

And so you do. Harry grabs your hand like it’s no big deal, and you spend the short walk to the frat house trying to convince yourself of the same. Once inside, you stay a bit closer behind Harry, holding his bicep with your free hand as he leads you through the house.

What you don’t know is that Harry is freaking out inside at how you are touching him. He can’t believe it; you are here with him and you’re holding him like he’s yours. Even though he’s not, but he is enjoying the idea for now.

You enter the backyard, and it is full of people you have seen on campus or in class. Most people don’t bat an eye at you; they are mainly focused on Harry. A few look a bit confused at the sight of Harry with a girl, but you try your best not to overthink it all. You both finally arrive at where Harry’s friends are standing, and he is quick to introduce you.

“Everyone, this is Y/N. The girl who saved my life this term.” He says proudly, and he catches his friends looking at him knowingly. They’re probably going to be a bit of a pain in the ass, but he hopes maybe it’ll make you realize that he likes you as more than just a friend.

You smile and let go of Harry’s hand when you see two of his friends glance at it. You lean closer and greet each friend individually with a handshake. The last one, Mikey, offers you a drink and you kindly refuse. So far, it’s going great.

“How come we haven’t seen you at parties before, Y/N?” Another friend of Harry asks. You fiddle with your hands a bit, nervous because you haven’t met this many people at the same time in a long time, and you haven’t cared what this many people thought about you in a long time either.

“Uhm, not really my scene, I guess.” You answer with an awkward smile. Harry’s friends ask you some more questions and you answer all of them, even cracking a joke here and there in between. It is nerve racking, especially since you are talking so much.

“Do you have a boyfriend?” One of the girls in the group—Dina, if you remember correctly—suddenly asks. You are glad that the group has divided into small sections a bit, and only another girl and guy will hear your answer.

Harry is chatting with his friends left from him, but once that one question leaves Dina’s mouth he checks out of the conversation. He knows the answer, of course, but he still wants to hear what you have to say.

“Nope.” You shake your head, and Dina nods.

“No one on the horizon?” She asks again, excessively glancing from Harry to you. The two others start to giggle and you feel the heat rising to your cheeks. Before you can respond, Dina continues talking in a slightly louder tone. “Because if not, I have a friend of mine I can set you up with. He is great! He’s somewhere around here actually, I could introduce you if you want?”

You suddenly feel a hand snake around your waist, and you already recognize who it is before you have proper time to process it. You worry about that; is it bad to be so familiar to ones’ touch?

“D’ya want to get a drink?” Harry asks, a bit more serious than you’re used to. You nod and excuse yourself from the conversation before letting Harry lead you to his car. His hand on the small of your back makes you have to restrain yourself from melting into a puddle.

You arrive at the car and wait for Harry to open the trunk. To your surprise, he lifts you up and seats you on it, before grabbing your already opened water bottle and taking off the cap. You take it from his hands and take a few big gulps, trying not to sweat profusely at the way he is looking at you, so concentrated.

“Having fun?” Harry asks you, and you look at him, nodding your head.

“Yes, you have nice friends.” You reply, your voice a bit breathy when you realize that his left hand hasn’t left your waist.

“You feeling good then?” He asks, tilting his head ever so slightly, and for a moment you feel like all the oxygen is sucked out of your lungs. He raises his brows a bit when you don’t respond to him—instead staring at him as if in a bit of a trance—and you have to regain yourself, nodding profusely.

“Yeah?”

“Yes.” You confirm again. He grins at that. You feel like you could be set on fire any second now. You hate yourself for the way you get when he’s so close like this. You haven’t really experienced this before with him, not with anyone actually.

“One of them already tried to set me up with some guy.” You say, hoping it would throw him off and grant you a little bit of space, but instead he comes closer.

“I heard.” Harry murmurs, eyes flicking from your mouth to your eyes, calculating your every reaction in case he gets any indication that you are not comfortable. But there isn’t, because you aren’t.

“Do you think that would be a good idea?” You ask in what could almost be classified as a whisper.

“Do you?” He touches your nose with his, and there is only millimeters left between your mouths. Your eyebrows furrow at the little gap there is left. You lean forward to press your lips against Harry’s but he pulls back ever so slightly, tutting you. Before you can even stop yourself, you let out the smallest whine that could almost be passed for a huff. Harry just smirks and leans in a bit closer again, brushing your lips over his. “Well…?”

“No.” You breathe out and push your lips against his, your hand around his neck, as if it would keep him even closer than he already is.

The weeks and weeks of tension between you fades away with every second that you kiss him. The way Harry’s hands have got a hold of your hips drives you absolutely crazy and you don’t think you have ever wanted something like you want him. It’s the first time your body takes over your brain and it suddenly makes sense; why people do stupid things for love.

If your crush on Harry—or however you want to define your feelings for him—already has you clamping against him as if his touch keeps you alive, you couldn’t imagine what a fool like you in love would do. But if this only feels half as good as the real thing, you aren’t so opposed to finding out.

Harry deepens the kiss and moves one of his hands to hold your face with it, and you become even more intertwined than before. Every sense of yours is occupied with him, and vice versa. Harry feels like he might have died and gone to heaven. Either that, or you are a fallen angel that he was lucky enough to encounter.

The sound of people cheering and a couple of honks breaks the both of you out of the spell you’re under. Upon pulling out from the kiss, you see the pick-up truck with all the people on it drive by as they cheer you on. And suddenly the realization hits you: you were making out with Harry in the middle of the street!

“Y/N… I—” Harry tries to get a word in but you don’t let him, because the sound of him addressing you by your name freaks you out.

“We should get back to the party.” You blurt out, trying to walk back towards the house.

“Y/N!”

You freeze at Harry’s urgent tone of voice, and the volume of it too. He has never sounded so stern before. You slowly turn around, terrified of what he’s going to say. Or maybe you are terrified because there is something you want him to say.

“We should talk about this, sunshine.”

You feel your insides twist. There is a happy surge that is waiting to make it to your brain, but that godawful, dreadful feeling gets the best of you; fear. A fear that overflows any happiness about resolving whatever is going on between the two of you. A fear that maybe this is all a game, and you can’t trust him like you want to, because you haven’t trusted yourself again from the moment you got drugged. So, instead telling Harry how you truly feel about all of this, you just shake your head in disbelief.

“I can’t do this.” You sigh a hopeless sigh, hands on your hips. You stare at the ground; there isn’t a realistic possibility in which you could look into his eyes right now.

“Do you want to go home?” He asks, and you respond with a nod. Harry shuts the trunk before walking over to the driver’s seat.

The second you step into the car, it falls silent between the two of you. You sit with your knees away from Harry, body towards the window. You listen to the radio music that is vaguely playing in the background.

Harry always puts on his own playlist, but he felt that wasn’t very fitting right now, so he just left the radio on. He tries to avoid giving into the heavy pit in his stomach, but it grows with every intersection and stoplight where once again nothing is said. It irks him that you are so silent and he would throw himself out the window if this is it. If he’s blown his chance.

Harry stops right in front of your apartment complex. You don’t even realize at first, and when you do, you feel your own body almost trying to keep you in the vehicle, urging your stupid mouth to open up to him, but you don’t. Harry does instead.

“I like you.” He blurts out before he even knows what he is doing. He feels his cheeks getting red as the sentence leaves his mouth. You freeze, and slowly turn to Harry, unsure what to make of his words.

“I like you, sunshine. As more than a friend, or a tutor, or whatever you want to call it. I have had a crush on you ever since that first project we did together.” He sighs, feeling like a big weight has already been lifted off his chest. “I’m not going to waste time by being vague or playing hard to get. So I’m telling you: I like you. You can do whatever you want the information, it’s up to you. I just needed you to know.”

You stare blankly at Harry. He feels himself getting nervous again. Did he forget to add something? No… right?

“S— so, that’s all. Have a good night, Y/N.” He adds on, looking away from her confrontational eyes and focusing on the empty road in front of him instead.

A scoff. A scoff leaves your mouth as you unbuckle your seatbelt and open the door. Harry’s heart drops; he messed this up. How did he ever think you liked him? He knew you were way out of his league. Why did he even try—

“No, you know what—” the car door slams shut and Harry looks to his right to see you sitting next to him again. Your face is on scary mode and he is quite intimidated by it, to say the least. “You don’t get to do this! You don’t get to give me coffee, and touch me and kiss me and make me all confused, and— this! And why are you suddenly calling me by my name?! You can’t just— do that!”

The faintest hint of a smirk appears on Harry’s face. He can’t think of anything else but how beautiful you look right now. That pouty, confusion filled angry face you have on.

“You’d rather have me call you sunshine?”

“That— That’s not what I meant— You are so annoying, you know that?!”

“Then what do you mean, sunshine?” Harry asks, tilting his head a bit. He is being a bit cocky; he likes seeing you struggle with this, but trying to communicate anyway. He’s proud of you. He feels like he knows you better than you think and he is aware that this is not easy at all for you.

“You— you just barge into my life with those caramel macchiato’s and flip everything I know upside down. And giving me that… nagging feeling. All the time!” You keep ranting, unaware of how amused Harry is because of it.

“Sunshine… are you trying to tell me that you like me back?” He wonders carefully. It is hurting his lips trying to fight them from forming into a smile.

“What?” You ask breathily, as if he’s caught on to you. Harry bites the inside of his lip and leans forward. There it is again, that nagging feeling.

His eyes trace down to your body and he carefully placed on of his hands on your stomach, then he looks back at you. He is almost as close as how he was before you two kissed, and your body immediately feels like it’s on fire again.

“That nagging feeling, do you feel it there? In your belly?” He asks you softly, and you could melt from just his words. You say nothing, do nothing. You just clench your jaw, unwilling to give into him. The reason why you are defying this is becoming vaguer and vaguer by the second, though…

“Because I do. I feel it all the time. Whenever you’re close, whenever you enter my mind. I’ve never longed for a stomach ache so bad in my entire life.” He explains to you, and your mind feels so clouded. You know exactly what he means.

“I know you’re scared, and I know you don’t trust this. But please, let me in. I wouldn’t think of letting you down. Ever.” Harry pleads, and your eyes flutter shut.

All you can smell now is his perfume ans all you can feel is him even though he’s not touching you all around. You lean forward, forehead against his. You both stay like that for a second or two, but when you open your eyes and his lips are the first thing you see…

You break.

Within seconds, your lips are back on his and you just know it was the right thing to do. There is nothing you love more than being close to him right now, and you are really relishing in the fact that that seems to have overshadowed your fears.

Your hands finds its way to his neck while one of his cups your jaw, keeping the both of you steady. There is so much passion in the kiss, and it feels so satisfying. It is why it’s almost impossible to pull away from him, but you do anyway.

“Do you want to come in?” You ask, out of breath. Harry’s mouth breaks into a wide smile as he nods.

“Yes, please.”

…

TO BE CONTINUED