#him which totally understandable i have issues with second movie and I didn’t have the heart to tell her he dies in the movie so I let her

[0celesteisthebest0]

AHH THE PAIN THE PAINNN(I’m being partially dramatic)

[gebediahhhhhhh]

I’ve seen a lot of people analyzing Lydia’s behavior in BJBJ, not only on tumblr. And a lot of posts about Lydia’s anxiety being illogical miss one certain point: anxiety IS illogical. As someone who spent enough time treating my depression and anxiety issues (and also abusing my medicine at some point) I can totally get her behavior. Let me explain.

WARNING: I’m not an expert in anything I’m talking about, this is just for fun and based on my own experience with mental issues. Also I’m very sleepy and English is not my first language.

When people analyze Lydia’s behavior, they usually have 2 points:

1. Lydia is afraid of ghosts in general; she’s getting anxious because she can see dead people.

2. Lydia is afraid of Beetlejuice specifically.

While the first one is more logically understandable, I don’t think it’s the thing. To me it was obvious that she was afraid of BJ and her panic attacks happened only when she saw him. The second one, though, makes less sense considering the events of the second movie, when Lydia summons BJ and she’s just like… annoyed. She looks at him and goes ew. I didn’t see panic. Which could be just her being calm and collected in the face of danger, but I don’t believe Lyds is like that, sorry 😭

So that leaves us with her reactions being kinda… inconsistent. Yeah! So let me introduce you to my hot takes:

- Lydia is mentally unstable and has big anxiety issues which lead her to panic spiraling about certain topics.

- Lydia is NOT afraid of ghosts in general (at least consciously), but seeing them still messes her up.

- Lydia’s only human and her memory of the first movie events is not perfect.

Let’s talk about this.

In the first movie we clearly see Lydia being depressed and suicidal. Here everything’s clear, I think. Depression at a young age can mess your brain big time and I doubt she got it medicated until she was a whole ass adult.

In the same first movie Lydia obviously doesn’t feel distressed around ghosts (except for BJ, because he’s a weirdo). She willingly spends time with Maitlands and dances with football players and in general she’s okay with ghosts.

From the second movie we get that she can see any ghost because of her gift. I can only imagine how many ghosts she’s met during these 36 years. Probably even before her show started, she would always randomly see dead people in all kinds of places. Some guy killed himself in this building 50 years ago? Yep, Lydia can see him haunting the place. This ability surely doesn’t bring comfort to one’s life, especially after you grow out of your teenage years and talking to dead people is no more considered a quirky thing.

Now back to her fear of Beetlejuice. In the first movie, he terrorized the Deetzes, but didn’t do anything harmful to Lydia specifically. The whole wedding thing must’ve been pretty scary though, I don’t think many people acknowledge that. In her place I would absolutely be terrified. But at the end she seems fine and cheerful, which could be a sign that she isn’t traumatized but all this ghostly stuff that much. So what could’ve happened for her to react to BJ like this?

What I’m thinking is, human memory is not perfect. It tends to blur some things, especially uncomfortable ones. And depression is known for causing memory issues as well. I, personally, barely remember my teen years. And I’m definitely younger than Lydia and saw far less shit in my life. So I’m just thinking that, for the past 36 years, her memory of encountering Beetlejuice might’ve gotten more vague and kinda replaced with… Maitlands’ stories about him.

We don’t know when exactly did the Maitlands leave, but I assume Lydia did spend with them enough time. I already saw a very good in-depth post about Lydia’s fear of Beetlejuice being fueled by the Maitlands’ experience of him being a pervy freak and whatnot. Yes, I agree!!! They absolutely did tell Lydia about all their afterlife experiences, including their first time summoning Beetlejuice. So Lydia must’ve known about him being extremely fucking weird.

Now, imagine: you’re a woman with many mental issues. Your job includes regularly seeing dead people who might look really disturbing and behave in a potentially dangerous way. You have many relationships issues as well and now… You start seeing a freaky ghost from your teenage years. What do you remember about him? Oh, not much:

- he hurt your dad and scared your family (which might have been funny when you’re 16, you do start seeing things differently when you grow up).

- he was acting absolutely disgusting towards your friend.

- he tried to marry you.

I don’t blame Lydia for freaking out. And considering she has anxiety, I can totally imagine her brain going different directions with thoughts how Beetlejuice might hurt her specifically. Been there, done that. I believe her seeing him at the studio wasn’t the first time, and her reactions just kept escalating because she kept thinking about him being a supernatural entity who can murder her, rape her, hurt her daughter, hurt her parents, etc.

But then she summons him and he’s… normal. I mean, relatively normal. You know that feeling when you’re afraid to make this really scary phone call, but when you finally do, it turns out to be not that scary? I imagine that what Lydia experienced, just ten times more intense lmao.

[napoleondidthat]

Final thoughts on Napoleon, Ridley Scott

As I said yesterday, the movie as a whole falls because it tries to fit too much into a movie. You have to do a Cliff notes version of a life to achieve that. This may change if the 4 hour version is released. It won’t correct some of the creative choices made of course. I appreciate the effort and don’t envy anyone who has to write a movie screenplay of Napoleon’s life. And as much as we’d all love to probably sit and watch Napoleon go over the Napoleonic Code, or peace negotiations, I know that the public at large could not care less.

So let’s talk actors here.

I didn’t hate Phoenix’s Napoleon completely. There were times where he did very well in the scenes. There were a couple issues though:

1. Napoleon isn’t really just a figment of imagination character and because he’s an historical figure that means to me you have less wiggle room. I appreciate actors who have played Napoleon and have taken the effort and read biographies on Napoleon, like Assante did. It’s obvious Phoenix didn’t. And that comes through. I’d even say that Phoenix doesn’t really get Napoleon or understand the figure and really doesn’t know what to do with it. Is he a demon? A psycho? A war-monger? A petulant child?

The main problem for Phoenix is the same that faces Clavier, he’s too damn old for the part.

I know a lot of praise has been heaped on Comer for her Josephine but I wasn’t that blown away by it. She was fine, she did fine, she just wasn’t Josephine. She played her so lifeless and dead-pan. If Napoleon is the heavy, Josephine was the opposite.

Whoever played Madame Mere did fine but she was way too mom like and jovial. Madame Mere always strikes me as an austere figure.

Strangely who I thought did very well was the actor who played Barras. He was quite compelling and it’s probably the best and most air time I’ve ever seen given to Barras. The other was the portrayal of Talleyrand which surprised me. He didn’t look the part really and when no first saw the photos I wasn’t impressed. But it worked and he did very well in the role. Extra points for showing Talleyrand with a brace on his leg though they never explained it.

The other perks of the movie, the cinematography I thought was really done well. The sets were beautiful even if they weren’t very French. The costumes were also very impressive.

The other fails was the score. This is a mystery to me why they did this sweeping epic on a $200 million budget and didn’t hire someone to do a score. Every Napoleon movie before this has a score and it’s like they forgot completely. I have read that they used the Pride and Prejudice score and it’s lovely but it feels borrowed, which it is. The beginning of the movie is merely French folk music type music. Interesting choice but it still felt off.

Lastly, like I said I really dislike that they did so much name card flashing on characters as they were introduced. At the end they did the same fade to black cards telling the audience that Napoleon died May 5, 1821 after six years of exile on St. Helena. They then give the famous supposed last words. Then fade to black and up comes a scorecard of Napoleon’s battles and how many died in each battle with a line showing the total dead being 3 million. First, I rather hate this argument that Napoleon is the only person solely responsible for the deaths during a very tumultuous time in history. That is almost giving him too much power. Second, what are you trying to say Scott?

If you are trying to show Napoleon is a war monger evil doer, fine. I disagree with that interpretation, but it’s one that some hold. Problem is that it falls because Phoenix never played Napoleon as a wild eyed war monger. Phoenix plays Napoleon all over the place so at the end you can’t even really believe his Napoleon was capable of the responsibility of all this death.

The problem is that the movie lacks vision and coherency. Napoleon is a genius on the matters of war but we are never shown that. Napoleon had men die for him but here you can’t really understand why anyone would listen to Phoenix’s Napoleon let alone follow him. He and Josephine have a toxic but passionate relationship but it’s never shown. You don’t really know why Josephine cares about losing Napoleon since they never seem to say one kind word to each other when together, she seems bored as Empress and every love scene has her looking bored off into the distance while Napoleon pants behind her. Yet in the end voice over Josephine waxes on about her great love for her tortured sweet Emperor.

No actor gets Napoleon right completely. No movie gets it right completely. I find every movie touches on certain things that are perfect that another movie dropped the ball on. Every actor does one or two aspects of Napoleon very well and fails on others. If we could somehow merge all the things the actors and the movies do right we might come close to a perfect movie.

[hunter-sylvester]

Hi! I’m the anon who wrote the ask about Hunter’s parental issues and about his attachment to Kevin. Thank you for answering my asks, I absolutely love the way you write and how you explain everything! You’re extremely talented!🫶

I honestly didn’t notice how in love Hunter was with Kevin until I watched the movie a second time. It’s crazy how you can literally see all feeling in Hunter’s eyes when he looks at Kevin. I also loved how you said that their relationship fits a BDSM bratting dynamic, because I totally see it.

[and as someone who has ADHD and deals with RSD on a regular, I completely understand him. It sucks.]

Hey 🤘 [prev ask for context] Yeah I obviously couldn’t be 100% sure they were from the same person but it definitely makes the most sense lol

Thank you so much! I’m really glad you enjoy my rambling thoughts about Hunter as a character <3

If you do like my writing, I’m tempted to sheepishly gesture over to my actual Metal Lords fics over on Ao3 if you haven’t checked them out, even tho it makes me feel like a bit of a dick to do so 😅 (They are mostly locked to registered users, blame AI data scraping. The only Metal Lords fic not locked rn is a tiny ficlet. An Ao3 account is free tho 👀)

In any case, I really appreciate that you pushed me to do a bit of analysis again. Because sometimes I tend to forget that all the stuff that lives in my head as “obvious” isn’t always stuff I’ve said out loud on here lmao

There’s a lot to pull from the film if you’re willing to be a bit mentally ill about it.

And you’re absolutely right about the way he looks at Kevin, I mean, it happened enough for me to make a whole ass gifset of it lmao

Look at him. The boy is smitten. Clueless, of course. But smitten.

Which I credit basically entirely to Adrian Greensmith, as it was a vision he had for the character. I really can’t imagine Hunter having been played by anyone else as he brought so much to the role. (Fun fact, if I remember correctly: Noah Urrea, who plays Clay, originally auditioned for Hunter. No harm but I'm very glad he didn't get that. He makes a good Clay and Hunter just needed to be played by Adrian.)

One of the key things Adrian brought to the role also being, probably accidentally, his anxiety.

"I spent a lot of Metal Lords feeling a bit anxious [...] and in hindsight I wonder if some of that was just a sign that Hunter was quite an anxious character [...] I mean his body's so tense all the time." - Adrian Greensmith.

I shortened that quite a bit so I'm including a slightly longer clip of the interview audio for more context. (I can upload a subtitled video clip if anyone wants that as well as link the video on yt but I'd have to do a bit of a search for that)

Aside: If I had to guess I'd say he's probably referring to Peter Sollett who directed Metal Lords when he mentions a 'Pete'.

And yeah the bratting thing was a little bit of a joke but mostly not a joke. Without going absolutely off the deep end, the mentality behind bratting is something I really see in Hunter.

Evie Lupine has a wonderful video about bratting and why people would be interested in it (and why some people hate it) but a short snippet that always spoke to me from that is the following:

"The motivations behind bratting are pretty varied. I think one of the main ones would be a sense of security and comfort. This is when the acting out is sort of a way to be reassured that even when you, break rules, even when you push at things, the partner that you're with is not going to abandon you." - Evie Lupine

Obviously, with Hunter's fear of abandonment, it's easy to see why this would appeal to him.

He also just...idk he has brat energy - sincerely, a brat.

And Kevin does just play out the counterpart to that. He doesn't always have Hunter under control but he tries to.

And he does mostly act as that safe person to brat against, which again amplifies the impact it has when Hunter starts to think he's actually losing Kevin, destroying that feeling of safety.

Aside: I obviously don't think that these characters, in universe, negotiated for a bratting dynamic. In universe it'd be something that just sort of organically developed within their friendship/relationship. But even more than that it's an archetype of a dynamic that we as the audience can easily read into their interactions if that makes sense.

Can you believe the shit they will accidentally put in movies? lmao

And yeah, I have ADHD as well. And RSD is something that affects me pretty fucking severely. I've only really become more aware of it in the past year or so as my partner has pointed it out more and more.

So it's definitely something that I then noticed more and more in Hunter too.

Obviously this is all just my take on the character, and other people might have totally different interpretations. That's the beauty of art, we all get to find what we need in it and read it in our own ways, influenced by our own life experiences.

Thank you again for asking, Anon 🤘 (if you want to use a nickname or smth to identify that you're the same Anon, let me know. If not, that's totally okay too, but I might not always know it's you)

[elzifelzi]

Been in a huge avatar tla mood so here are my few avatar takes.

Avatar is a show that can be done perfectly in live action as long as the people working on it are fans of the show and do their research. Shyamalan was clearly not and thats one of the main reasons the live action movie was bad.

The movie while awful had good cg for it's time and the elements themselves looked good the main issue with that was the fact that they did not pay attention to which martial arts the bending styles were based off of and just did whatever they wanted.

Despite the whole "losing past lives" thing Korra wasn't a bad avatar and she's far from the worst(Roku holds that title)

However she was a very unlikable character for a vast majority of the first and second season so i understand why people have their issues with her she genuinely has alot of writing flaws that make her hard to enjoy.

Usually when i express my feelings about Korra people always respond with "you only hate her because she's a bisexual female avatar" and i then have to point out that my favorite avatar is Kyoshi who aside from being an absolute unit is also a bisexual female avatar.

Kyoshi is the best avatar and deserves her own series.

Was neat seeing Avatar Wan in LOK but i personally would’ve preferred having a mini series with him instead just of the 2 episodes. we got.

Zutara is an awful ship and is only popular because of the tired tropes of opposites attract/fire water/good girl bad guy/enemies to lovers. Despite the voice actors pushing it Zuko and Katara have a total of 2 moments together on screen that mean anything one of them is katara realizing that zuko has also suffered because of the war and the other is katara forgiving him for betrayal neither of which are romantic in any way.(I also simply do not like the enemies to lovers trope in general and the only time i feel it works is when the enemy in question is just on the opposing faction and hasn't actually hurt the other character directly.

Sokka not having kids and having an ambiguous fate has to be one of the weirdest decisions ever made by the writers.

The Live action show will be good.

Iroh deserves his own series

Bumi is the most interesting out of all of Aang and Kataras children.

Korrasami is a dope ass relationship that didn’t get the development needed to be great.

Korra not having her past lives anymore makes the concept of the avatar kinda dumb and only works best with Wan since he is Literally the first.

The biggest flaw of the LOK is how the most exciting moments of the show don't come from Korra but from Aang and his team avatar and their kids.

Kataang isn't an amazing ship at all but The people who shit on shit simply refuse to understand the reason why they work so well

[lioncunt]

Lestat for the character impressions!!

fjdjsksk ok buckle in this is gonna be long

first impression: just like with armand it was the movie as a high school freshman, and i was immediately extremely obsessed with him. that kind of lovable antagonist has always been my favorite archetype, like spike from buffy etc, so it was very easy to become attached to him, especially in CONTRAST to movielouis who sucks. when he “died” i was very surprised and disappointed, which i think then colored my initial viewing of the second half of the story lmao i was like where the fuck is lestat why is antonio banderas here. after i watched the movie i looked up the books, and when i realized he was the protagonist for the rest of the series i was like oh ok i’m gonna read them now. i really did start reading them exclusively for him. when i read the book, i was taken aback by how he was much more of an abusive piece of shit, because i think the movie skips past a lot of his more cruel acts with louis and claudia and boils it down to claudia just growing up and louis being sad for no reason. (i have issues with the movie.) (the musical does this to an even more ridiculous degree.) anyway i was like wow he actually really sucks but that made me even more obsessed with him because it made him much more interesting to me, a real multifaceted dynamic character! and once the ending scene with him and louis occurred i was so struck by the entire tragedy of the book and how there wasn’t a true villain in the end. anyway then i read tvl and i lost my mind

impression now: i have a whole other post that i think encapsulates all my bookstat feelings so i won’t type it all out again. as for showstat, he’s less of my best friend who i have to berate for being a fucking idiot and more of my favorite science experiment, something thrilling and terrifying that i’m enamored with and am dying to dissect until i understand every inch of what he’s made of. it was very much a rollercoaster for me watching it week to week because i was never totally sure where they were going with him, but now that the dust has settled i think they made some really fantastic choices with him. they didn’t shy away from his horrific acts of abuse like anne did in the movie and musical, while also keeping the thread of tvl lestat. it’s interesting, because while bookstat also commits absolutely heinous, unforgivable crimes, most of them are from his point of view, so we have a much clearer idea of why he’s committing those crimes. with showstat, we get no explanations, no internal monologue, no perspective, which makes my brain burst from all the different ways one can interpret him. i love showstat with all my heart and soul but i viscerally hate him but he is also my girlfriend so there’s that to contend with as well

favorite moment: wolfkiller. idk the book started with that and i giggled and kicked my feet “wow you killed a pack of them wowww” just call me nicki de lenfent. for showstat “this CHARLATAN” he looks like he has rabies <3

idea for a story: i wanna see him go back to acting and he’s in a soap opera and he has joey tribbiani’s storyline from friends

unpopular opinion: i do think showstat loved claudia despite everything, that one interview sam had where he said he was proud of her gave me enough energy to power a small town. for bookstat i think he deserved to be the main character of the book series even though i wish that didn’t mean anne lobotomized everyone else. but like he’s written specifically for my enjoyment so i’m glad that i have a wealth of text of widely varying quality to enjoy him from lmao

favorite relationship: romantic relationship is loustat both in the books and the show, nothing will ever compare to them i want them trapped in a jar on my shelf for eternity. non-romantic relationship is him and claudia “my dark child, my love, evil of my evil, claudia broke my heart” what if i killed myself

favorite headcanon: he loves the phantom of the opera. i think he actually mentions it in memnoch, they’re playing something from it in the background. anyway he’s pro phantom/christine

[sagehqs]

Seeing that damn look on Owen’s face made them want to do nothing more than kiss him all over. It was just everything about the way he held himself, the way he bantered, the way he just existed that drove Sage wild, and getting closer to him hadn’t halted that in the slighted. With an exasperated sigh they slumped their shoulders before signing, “I’ve never met a single person that likes making decisions, have you? Guess we’re fucked on this front.” As she watched his hands with bright eyes, she giggled and nodded as she replied back, “We can make a system, for sure. This will not be an issue, we’re smart and we know how to problem-solve.” With a grin on her face at the statement, which she definitely took as a challenge, an eyebrow cocked. “I’ll have you know, I’m pretty lucky at rock paper scissors, if you can handle that.”

“Hold me to it,” Sage quickly quipped, fully okay with being held accountable to this specific promise. At the question and laugh, they moved to lay their forehead against his arm, dramatically feigning defeat. After a moment she looked up and shrugged, “We might actually never pick a movie. We’re going to spend our time talking about what to pick, then it’s going to get too late.” That wasn’t the worst concept to her, but she did have a certain affinity for the concept of cuddling with him. Thinking for a moment they chewed on the inside of their lip, a foot tapping a little against her flooring. Finally, she gasped and started moving her hands again, “To start, we could make lists of each of our favorite movies from different genres and then just slowly make our way through the list. I want to know and learn your favorite things, movies included, so this would be an excellent way to begin.” Sure, it might be a little ambitious, but they didn’t really care.

At the bump on her shoulder, she carefully bumped him back and grinned as he complimented her. “I’m really, really trying – plus I think the classes have helped give me a lot of confidence. Like, you, too, but I already know I’m not going to be as fluent as you are, so I feel more chill around you rather than a class that’s looking at me for the signs. You know what I mean?” They didn’t know how to explain it, but they just truly felt like they could learn it at their own pace with Owen, he never minded when they fumbled and didn’t know a sign, he helped her out; but she couldn’t exactly do that with a class, even if it were low stakes like at the library. Noting his blush, she leaned up and kissed his cheek quickly, making sure to catch anything else he had to sign. At the statement of past relationships, she pouted a little; not understanding in the slightest why someone wouldn’t want to learn to sign with him. It wasn’t even a second thought in Sage’s head when they were friends, so for his past partners to end a relationship with him because of ASL blew their mind completely. “Sure, it gets really complicated sometimes, but like… it’s just practice and respect. I practice it because I respect who you are and want to be able to have these conversations with you. I’ll literally throat chop the next person who tells you it’s ‘too hard’ to learn.” Simple as that, Sage would.

At the poke on her side, she jumped a little and laughed, “Owen, don’t you dare jinx us!” They would do everything they could to prevent a fire, but now it was a small worry that something might happen. She shook the thought away and laughed at his reaction. Leaning against her kitchen counter, she just watched him, fully smitten as he slid the apron on. If her pupils could have been hearts like in cartoons, it would have happened as he spun and grinned – it was an almost child-like wonder that was written on his face, and it was the purest thing they might have ever seen before. “I’ve kind of got too many for my own good, you can totally have that one if you want it. Even if you might not cook a lot, it’ll help, right?” As he washed his hands, they took the lull to grab an apron themselves and put it on. “Someone is ready for their food handler’s card.” They smiled brightly, watching him as they carefully moved to wash their own hands. After doing so they moved to the fridge to start getting everything out, after a moment she stopped, looked up to Owen, and laughed. “First is prep, which is ultimately the most important part. How’re your knife skills?” Keeping her attention on him, she grabbed the last few things from the fridge and splayed them on the counter. “Potatoes need to be peeled and cut, scallions need to be chopped, and the pork chops need to be sliced.” Getting slightly frustrated with herself and needing to talk and sign at the same time, she huffed, “Apparently I need to practice more with kitchen words.” With a small huff, they moved to grab their cast iron and throw it in the oven, quickly turning it on to get the pan hot.

Owen knew that she was right, Lady would indeed be the first one they would be meeting. But he also knew that at some point, he wanted Sage to meet his dads as well. The three most important in his life under one roof? It would be incredible. Never before had he taken someone home to meet them but there was no doubt in his mind that he wanted to do just that with Sage. The banter between them came so easy, felt so right, and so Owen returned his own dramatic look at the mention of the cornbread once more. Doing his best to keep a straight face and not smirk, though he knew he was failing greatly. "This is going to be bad. I was really hoping that you'd say that you love making decision." Owen moved his hands, shaking his head as he did so. "We are so going to need some kind of system- honestly, I would trust google to make a choice for us. Though-" He raised his eyebrows some. "Wouldn't say no to a good old game of rock paper scissors for making decisions either."

There had been a part of Owen that had been worried, that them going from close friends to partners might make things awkward. Might make things weird between them in some way but he was so glad to see that brief worry had beyond wrong. Being with Sage, with their hands tangled together, he knew that this was what was meant to be. They got along so well that the shift seemed to come natural- still able to be his goofy self with them, just now kissing and being close was involved. This is what he had always wanted in his past relationships, someone he seemed to just click with. Being with Sage felt so easy, felt like this is where he was meant to be, where he belonged. And it was by far the best feeling in the world. "I'm holding you to that promise-" It would be the perfect way to finish up their night, curled up on the couch with Sage, watching whatever movie they decided on... He raised an eyebrow some as he looked back over at them. "How the hell are we ever going to decide on a movie to watch?" Owen asked, laughing as he did so.

A wide grin stretching along his features once more. "The one good reason to learn to sign one handed, so we can keep holding hands." Bumping playfully against their shoulder. "You can really tell, your signs are starting to looking more-" He paused, thinking of the word he wanted to use. "Fluid. If that makes sense. Like you're more sure of how you want to move your hands." Owen paused for a moment, a light blush already lining the bridge of his nose. "I know I've said it a hundred times before but you have no idea how much it means to me- you learning my language." There was a slight pause, debating if he wanted to elaborate a bit more as to why it meant so much. But if there was anyone to be open with, it was Sage. "A lot of my past relationships, they basically didn’t want to learn to sign. Because it was 'too hard' for them to learn. A lot of why I've never had much luck dating." His fingers moving without a second thought. "so you taking the time to learn sign language, that’s why it means so much to me." Never having really opened up to someone before about this or explaining why he was always over the moon when friends, or in this case Sage, had learnt ASL.

Glad when the mood switched as he followed after them to the kitchen, excitement now replacing the moment of somber truth that he had told her about. "You know, there's always a first time for starting a fire in your kitchen." He joked, reaching over to playfully poke Sage in their side some. He looked to where they waved, letting out a laugh at the sight of the aprons before he turned back around to look at Sage. "I'm so wearing one." Owen moved over to where they were, rubbing his chin in deep thought as he took in the shades of gingham before grabbing for one, slipping it over his head and tying it around his waist. Spinning back around to face Sage, a look of absolute joy across his features as he did so. Giving his hips a little wiggle, watching the apron move some, nose wrinkling in amusement. "You have no idea how excited I am at the fact you own these." Another laugh tumbling from him as he moved over towards the sink, washing his hands like he would for a shift on the floor at the hospital before he turned back around. "Figured that had to at least be a step in cooking- if it applies at work, feel like it applies here too." His eyes shining bright, absolutely thrilled to be cooking with Sage. "Alright- I'm beyond ready for this. What do we need to do first?"

[wallflowerimagines]

*TW PERIOD MENTION*

If you're comfortable with this, could you do some hcs for the lords (but mainly moreau) with an s/o who gets HORRIBLE period cramps? Like they're literally writhing in pain and even after they take pain meds it's still miserable. Only do this if you feel comfortable of course, I totally understand if you dont want to do it❤

Hi, sorry folks, I bumped this to the top of the list, cuz I don't know if it's time sensitive for you, hope it brings comfort❤️ (Moreau's will have some extra)

TW: Period Mention, Reader is still Gender Neutral

Alcina Dimitrescu

Ah, she remembers those. She hasn't had to deal with one in a long while, due to her mutation, but even for her the experience was not pleasant.

This, however, looks very different.

Alcina cannot imagine the pain you must be in. You are curled into yourself on the couch, humming in an attempt to distract yourself from the pain, and you might try to hide them but she can see the tear tracks on your face.

Alcina takes care of you. Any of her day to day tasks can and will wait-- you are far more important. She doesn't leave the room unless you ask her to, and the Maids aren't let into the room unless it is to bring HER the things she needs to take care of you.

She will do whatever you need from her, no question. Cuddles, heated blankets, she will even read aloud to you as a distraction. Pro tip--her hands can get pretty chilly, and if you're someone who does well with ice packs, her hands work 100% better to cool off your skin.

Don't worry about her loosing control at the smell of blood--you are obviously in pain and she has far too much self control to let a little bit of blood bother her. (But depending on how hungry her daughters are, they might not be let in the room unless they have fed recently)

She will also use her contact with the Duke to find you a proper doctor. It's not normal for you to be in this much pain. Dearest, it doesn't matter if someone else has said there's nothing more to be done-- she's getting you a competent Doctor to get a second opinion.

Donna Beneviento

Donna is panicking.

Lady Beneviento is stressed the hell out by seeing you in pain--she hates it. You're lying in a pile of blankets on the floor, unable to be even the slightest bit comfortable because of the pain, and in such obvious agony that your hands are shaking.

Still, she's more than ready to make you feel better. Other than pain pills and more traditional treatment, Donna firmly believes in the power of distraction.

She will use books, movies, heck with your permission she might even use the pollen to craft a hallucination for you to help take the pain away.

(Ethan's encounter with the demon fetus was able to cause him enough harm that he felt it, Donna would definitely try to see if she could use her powers to trick your brain into not feeling as much pain)

She will also be attached to you at the hip, if you need space or can't be touched during your period, you need to tell her up front. She'll be very clingy when you are this miserable.

A little self indulgence here: while Donna does like her tea, she makes a KILLER hot chocolate. If chocolate brings you joy during your period, she has a constant, steady supply of it sent up to your room.

Salvatore Moreau

Salvatore engages Doctor mode immediately. For you to be in this much pain is both not normal and completely unacceptable. He's going to do his best to help.

This man absolutely used to be the Village doctor before his mutation, and as a result does Know His Shit. His siblings and mother may infantilize him to a certain degree, but that is mainly because Moreau's main issues are short term memory problems and his obsessive devotion to Mother Miranda that can make him regress. He's still competent as a doctor, and if he needs to reference anything, he still has some copies of medical textbooks.

He was also a Small Town Doctor, meaning he knows how to treat pain without access to traditional medicine, since often times he didn't have access to it.

It doesn't matter if you're not a tea person, you're still getting tea, made with herbs you don't know the name of and couldn't pronounce even if you did.

He doubles this up with more traditional pain relief methods like extra strength ibuprofen and heated compresses on the area. He might even talk you into doing a few exercises--it can help a lot with pain relief.

Still, when he's caring for you, sometimes he has to leave the room. He uses getting you a glass of water or another blanket as an excuse, but it's really so he can take a deep breath and center himself. Moreau is an empathetic man who loves you to pieces, and watching you cry silently into a pillow just...hurts.

Salvatore also does his best to distract you with anything he has on hand, mostly movies. While you two might normally playfully argue about which ones to watch, he will absolutely defer to you. I would recommend taking this time to watch a scary movie if you're a horror fan, there's literally no other time where Moreau would let you get away with it.

He is at your side constantly, and will only give you space if you ask for it. Even then, he will pop back in every few hours to check in.

Now for Fluff stuff: If you're not careful and watch him like he watches you, Moreau will run himself ragged trying to keep you comfortable.

The best solution to preventing this is coaxing him into bed with you. He might let out a couple of token protests, but one look at your pleading face takes all the fight right out of him.

He will cuddle up to you as close as possible and rub little circles into your back or stomach, whatever feels best. If you two are face to face, you can start to feel yourself relax in time with his breathing, and both of you slowly drift off to sleep together.

It's the best you've felt in days ❤️

Karl Heisenberg

Magnet Man is just... So lost...

You are writhing in agony in your bed, sobbing into a pillow, and so obviously suffering. He HATES to see you like this, because you're hurting and he doesn't know how to fix it.

Karl wants to hurt the things that hurt you, but when it's your own body rebelling against you and causing you pain...He wants to make it better for you but he can't.

He swallowed his pride IMMEDIATELY and called Moreau to the factory. Heisenberg might consider The Lord of the Reservoir to be a little slow in the head, but he used to be a doctor, and Karl is taking zero chances with your health.

He also pops by the Duke to pick up any kind of pain relief possible--Karl literally brings back 8 different brands of acetaminophen, hot water bottles, cocaine, opium, and enough alcohol to give an elephant a blackout. (Maybe he can get you to pass out long enough that you'll sleep through the worst of it?)

You will have to ask directly for cuddles if you want them--as handsy and clingy as Heisenberg is, he is so Bad At Feelings that he will just hover in the corner and work on projects to keep his hands busy. He doesn't know if you want to be touched, and is afraid to ask...but he really wants to keep an eye on you anyway.

[adoringhaikyuu]

you’re horny on your period 

characters: aone + atsumu + kageyama + kenma + (gn!reader) 

request: hey babes, can i request hq boys (of ur choice, but with tsumu on it pls) with a fem s/o whos on her period and very horny? lol, if ur uncomfortable with it i'll totally understand • by anonymous

warnings: horny tings, suggestive tings, period sex mentions but nothing actually happens <3

notes: everyone is 18+ in this !! the reader has their period obviously but there are no pronouns used so technically it’s gn :) i actually rly like this one!

aone 

you tried to get over it, but it was no use

it’d been an hour and you were still needy, an unsatisfied ache in the pit of your stomach and between your legs, not just because of your cramps

you were debating telling aone because you didn’t to bother him and period sex could be messy and some might even say gross

but of course, like the observant boyfriend he is, he noticed something was bothering you

aone walked into your bedroom, immediately sensing your discomfort. he stopped in front of the bed where you were sitting. his voice was gentle, despite his serious exterior but you could tell he was worried. “cramps?” 

you paused, deciding to speak before you changed your mind. “yeah, but that’s not really what’s bothering me...” 

he raised his brows, silently asking you to explain so he could help you.

“i...” you rubbed your thighs together, shuffling on the bed nervously as you focused your eyes on the sheets rather than his curious eyes. “i’m just feeling kind of needy?”

he stayed standing, “oh...would you like me to help?”

“yes–no?” you looked up to see him tilting his head at you, confused. “i just know some people find it gross and it can be messy, you know? don’t wanna be a bother.” 

“your issue is the mess?” 

you nodded and he hummed before leaving without another word. you sunk down a bit. you were fully prepared for it to go either way, but the rejection still kinda hurt a bit. you were about to go to the shower to take care of yourself when aone came back into the room, a towel and wipes in his hand. 

you looked up at him shocked, “what––”

he put the towel down and set the wipes aside, “for the mess.”

you immediately got up and pulled him in for a kiss, making his eyes widen slightly before he gave in, holding you by the waist. you mumbled against his lips, “i love you so much.” when you pulled away, you noticed the light blush and subtle smile on his face.

he licked his lips. “i love you too.” 

atsumu

normally when you were on your period, you wouldn’t let tsumu touch you tbh

period sex was a hassle

and normally you could control yourself or just take care of yourself on your own time in the shower or while he was out

but today for some reason, you needed him 

well you knew the reason actually––

as soon as atsumu came home, drenched in sweat from the gym, his grey tank top practically glued to his torso. you could see his neck shining and even his hair was wet, which you saw once he took off his cap. 

he set things down and immediately ran over to you on the couch to give you a quick kiss. “hey babe,” he grinned and stood up straight, stretching his arms behind his head, which wasn’t helping you at all. “damn that workout was intense, i’m beat. i’m gonna head to the shower, okay? then we can cuddle.” 

you opened your mouth but didn’t say anything, nodding instead. he smiled and headed towards the bathroom but he only made it about three steps before you stopped him with a call of his name, the sight of his back only furthering the feelings you had.

he turned back, “yeah?” 

you paused, “i um...” you sighed, “i need you.”

you could see a smile forming it’s way onto his face slowly, not wanting to get his hopes up too soon. he always wanted to help you out on your period but you’d never let him. 

“like need me need me?” 

you nodded “but we’ll only do it in the shower!” 

the smile finally burst on in his face. he made his way over to you again and planted a big kiss on your lips, groaning happily when you moaned lightly. 

“on second thought another workout doesn’t sound too bad.” he winked and smiled cheekily before throwing you over his shoulder and running to the bathroom, ignoring your yelp. 

“what got you so worked up anyway?” he asked casually, stepping into the bathroom. 

he set you down and you looked up at him sheepishly, “you...”

he grinned smugly, his hands reaching for your shirt. “oh i am so blowing your back out–”

kageyama

you tried to ignore what you were feeling, not wanting to ruin the moment since you and kageyama loved to do this every week

have a movie night and just relax

and you now he’d been working really hard lately so he deserved some rest

but you had a problem

you kept fidgeting in your seat next to him, trying to either relieve yourself slightly or make it go away, you weren’t too sure

and to be honest you weren’t really paying attention to it and kageyama could tell

after twenty minutes or so into the movie, he asked you what was wrong but you waved him off, assuring him it was nothing

but you couldn’t help but focus on him, the sharp cut of his jawline, the curve of his lips

then he put his hand on your thigh and you got to thinking of the feeling of his hands on you

and that sent you down a tunnel of unholy thoughts

kageyama felt your fingertips tracing the veins in his hands and tried to ignore it at first, keeping his eyes trained on the tv. but when you let your fingers trail up along his arm as well, his hand subconsciously squeezed your thigh and his eyes widened when you let out a quiet moan.

you both paused and kageyama turned his head slowly, eyes wide and looked at you, his lips parted. “are you–” he swallowed, trying to calm himself down. “okay?” 

you looked over at him, trying to act innocent. “mhm. just tickled, that’s all.” 

he nodded and turned back to the screen, and you tried to as well, but you kept glancing back at him, debating with yourself about whether or not you should say something. you didn’t want to be selfish and disrupt the movie, but you also couldn’t ignore what you were feeling, it was too intense. 

it lasted about five minutes before he looked at you from the corner of his eye. “you know i can see you watching me, right?” 

you felt your cheeks heat up and you huffed. “i’m sorry i just...” he turned to face you fully, curious and a bit concerned. his hand trailed up to your inner thigh, completely innocently and that’s when you decided you couldn’t hide it anymore. 

“i’m horny tobio.” 

his eyes brightened and he stuttered for a bit, “o–oh. well––do you want me to help?” he started to move closer but you looked to the side and he stopped. 

“it’s just––i’m on my period.” when he didn’t say anything for a few seconds you looked back to find him staring at you blankly.

he tilted his head and looked from side to side. “and?” 

you opened your mouth and closed it. “well...i’m, you know...bleeding...doesn’t that bother you? it’ll take more like effort and i know you’re tired––”

he cut you off, placing a hand under your chin, a shy smile on his face. “i don’t care about that. plus wouldn’t it help with your cramps?” 

you nodded, “well, only if you make me cum.” 

his brows furrowed, offended. “i always make you!” 

“yeah you do.” you laughed, taking his hand in yours, making him smile at you. “but are you sure you want to do this now? it might get messy.”

he leaned in and kissed your cheek before pulling back to look at you earnestly, his eyes a shade darker. “i don’t care.” he kissed you on the lips, “all i care about,” his hand tilted your head and pulled you closer, whispering against your lips. “is making you feel better.” 

kenma

kenma could tell something was off about you

he knew you were on your period but there was something else that he couldn’t figure out

he was waiting for you to tell him but you never did

the thing is, you’d just moved in together a few months ago and while you’ve had a couple periods in the same house 

(which he’s totally normal about) 

you haven’t done anything while you were on your period

normally you’d take care of yourself, but you felt a little self conscious about doing it in your shared house for some reason 

and kenma like never left the house

sure, he had his headphones on a lot but still––

so you were a little tense and though you thought he was distracted, he definitely noticed

kenma stepped into your room and you smiled up at him before going back to your phone, thinking he was switching from the ps4 to the pc set up in your bedroom. but he didn’t, he came and stood next to your side of the bed, making you look up at him in surprise. 

“oh hey ken,” you sat up, your legs pressed tightly together. “what’s up?”

he looked at you for a moment before speaking up. “nothing...what’s wrong with you?”

your brows furrowed, “what do you mean?”

he sighed. “i can tell something’s wrong...” he looked down, a bit shy. “i was waiting for you to come to me about it but you never did. was it something i did?”

your eyes widened, he’d noticed? “no––no you didn’t do anything wrong babe.”

“oh.” he nodded, crouching down beside you, resting his chin on the mattress. “then what is it? i can tell it’s not nothing.” 

you swallowed and set your phone down before looking down at him. “i just...” you sighed, “i’m kind of worked up...and i was too nervous to do something about it.” 

his eyes widened this time. “oh––”

you looked away. “yeah.” 

“well you don’t have to be nervous about that.” he stood up, a small smile on his face. “that’s perfectly fine.” 

you looked up at him, “oh, really?”

he nodded, “of course.”

you smiled, “oh thank you. so how long are you staying out for?”

his brows furrowed, “what? why would i leave the house––”

“wait you wanna stay?––” you paused, “well can you at least put your headphones on and close the bedroom door on your way out?” 

he blinked at you. “how can i help you if i’m not in the room?” 

you blinked back. “you want to help me?” 

he blushed and nodded sheepishly, “yeah...why wouldn’t i?” 

you stuttered a bit, “well i just––you know i’m bleeding, that could get messy...” 

he paused and glanced around the room seemingly in thought, and you figured that he was rethinking the whole situation until he spoke up again. “well i want you to be comfortable and the shower isn’t the best place for that...so how about i just get a towel to put here instead?” 

you stared at him for a few seconds, “each day i fall more and more in love with you.” 

he blushed even deeper and tried to hide his smile as he turned around, “shut up––i’m going to get the towel.” 

[vendettaparker]

Peanut Butter and Extra Jelly [T.H]

Summary: Tom’s long time crush on you becomes painful when you and Harrison are cast as love interests in a movie. 

Paring: Tom Holland x Actress!Reader 

Word Count: 5.8k

Warning: Suggestive themes, fake smut (very light), jealousy, probably some typos, swearing 

a/n: i have no idea how filming a movie, or auditioning for one actually goes so don’t crucify me for this. i’m pretty happy with how this turned out, especially considering that this is the most i’ve ever written for a fic. also, Burt Kreisher is one of my fav comedians in real life, he has 3 shows on neflix and a mini series.  

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     Tom was not a jealous person. At least, that's what he always told himself. He prided himself in thinking he was a very level headed individual who didn’t let his emotions get the best of him. That worked best for his job anyways; always being able to control his emotions and not get in his own head. That simple, pacifistic mindset seemed to change when it came to you. 

      You were one of the many actors Tom got the pleasure to help hone their technique and work closely with. You were new to the lifestyle of Hollywood and the only roles you had before were in small indie films that never garnered too much attention. The first major role that you landed, which also happened to help kickstart your career, was in the MCU. You played the secondary villain in the third Spider-man movie. 

     Meeting the cast was a dream come true; they were all extremely helpful and they provided tons of tips and tricks in navigating the hectic schedule required for such a huge production. By the time filming wrapped up, you were considered part of their little Spider-man family. 

     Tom was easily the most helpful. Whenever he saw you struggling with anything, he offered to help. You two spent hours upon hours together in his trailer, ordering take out and practicing lines. Some nights you two planned to work through your script, but inevitably ended up falling asleep binge watching The Office, and laughing about crazy shit that happened on set that day. 

     When the movie wrapped up and you went home for a month before the press tour, you were completely unsure and nervous about what direction your career was going in. You auditioned for a few new movies, but had yet to hear from any of the directors about casting decisions. You kept in touch Tom during the month you were apart and expressed your concerns. 

     “I don’t know, Tom. I’m just so sick of waiting around and hoping that some director out there throws me a bone, ya know’?” You said on facetime, while making cookies. 

     “Yeah, I totally understand that, (Y/N/N). I had that issue a couple years ago before the Marvel movies. Trust me, you did outstanding in that role and once it gets noticed I’m positive you’ll have directors calling you, begging for you to audition.” Tom smiled warmly into the camera as he walked around his apartment in London. 

      “Yeah, easy for you to say, movie-star.” You giggled, turning your face away from the camera in hopes that Tom wouldn’t notice the blush his compliments painted onto your cheeks 

     “I’m serious! You were outstanding! Like in that one scene where you—” 

      “Tom! Tessa chewed a hole in my trousers again!” A voice came from outside of the frame, “Mate, you gotta get her to stop doing that somehow.” 

     Tom sighed, and waved his hand dismissively at the figure, “Okay, sure. I’m busy right now.” Tom looked back to the camera, “anyways, as I was saying, don’t stress about not having a new project yet, (Y/N)—” 

     “(Y/N)?” The other voice whisper-yelled. “Let me say hi!”, suddenly the phone was yanked out of Tom's hands and the video shook around a bit as Tom wrestled to get it back. Finally, the camera stilled and Harrison was on the other end smiling. “Hi, (Y/N)!” 

     “Oh, hi Harrison!” You smiled back, laughing. You'd met Harrison a few times when he visited Tom on set. “How are you?” 

     The camera started moving around more as the background behind Harrsion whizzed past. You assumed Tom must’ve been chasing him to get the phone back. 

     “I’m good! I just auditioned for a new movie. You should audition too! The main female lead’s description looks just like you.” He exclaimed, running past the kitchen to his room. 

     “Oi! Give me my phone back you div!” You heard Tom yelling in the background, no doubt in hot pursuit of Harrison. 

     “I don’t know, I'm not sure I’m prepared for a lead role.” You sighed, “What’s the movie called? I’ll look into it.” 

     “It’s called ‘Collateral Damage’, it’s a spy movie.” Harrison said, shutting the door to his room, while Tom pounded on it from the other side. “Yeah, it’d be really fun working with you. Tom constantly talks about how much fun you are on set.” Harrison wheezed out, trying to catch his breath. 

      “Aw, that’s sweet of him.” You laughed. “Well I’ve got to go. Just tell Tom he can call me tomorrow or something.” You waved at the camera. “Bye!”

     “Yup, bye.” Harrison said right before the video cut out. 

      Harrison finally opened the door to a seething Tom. Tom grabbed the phone back from Harrison and noticed that the call had ended. 

     “Dude! Why would you do that?” Tom whined. 

     Harrison just patted Tom’s back, “Sorry, mate. She said she had to go, though. I was about to give the phone back.” 

     Tom huffed and sulked for a moment. “Whatever, I’ll just call her later, I guess.” 

     Harrison nodded and smirked at how whipped Tom was. “You should just ask her out if you’re so desperate for her attention.” Harrison teased. 

     “Shut up. I’m not desperate for her attention, I just like her voice and her personality, and the way she talks, and her funny sayings, and how her hair looks when she just woke up.” 

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     It was only a few days later when you received an email from the director of the movie Harrison told you about, asking for you to audition. You were ecstatic, Harrison must’ve already sent in some things about you since the director seemed adamant that you were of high interest for the role. 

     You called Tom immediately to share the good news. 

     He picked up after the third ring, “Hello, darling! How are you?” he beamed when he answered your call. He usually was the one to call you so he felt a sense of pride knowing that you were calling him for once. 

     “Tom! The director of the movie Harrison auditioned for just emailed me asking for me to audition!” You squealed excitedly. 

     “Really? That’s wonderful, love! Harrison just got the part of the lead too, so you’d be filming with him if you got it.” 

     “That’s so exciting, I’m flying to London for the audition in two days. Are you still there?” You pulled the phone away from your ear and switched it to speaker. “I’m booking the flight right now.” 

     “Yeah, I’ll be in London for another week and a half. Then we have the press tour starting in Japan.” Tom said, also switching to speaker phone to look at his calendar. “You can stay with Harrison and I while you’re here. Since we have to go to Japan together anyways.” Tom offered nervously. He really wanted you to stay in his flat with him. It’d be all cute and domestic, and maybe, just maybe, he’d spend enough time with you to not feel nervous about asking you on a date. If he was lucky, that is, but awaiting your reply he was a jittery ball of nerves. 

     “Yeah, that sounds wonderful. I won't be intruding though, right?” You said, smiling from ear to ear. Thank god you weren’t on facetime and Tom couldn’t see the stupid smile adoring your features. 

     “No, of course not. Harry will be so excited to see you. And Tessa too, she really misses you.” Tom shuffled around with his phone, shooting a quick text to Harrison letting him know you were coming to stay for a week. 

     “Ok, thanks so much, this is really thoughtful of you. I absolutely can’t wait to see you!” You gushed, finalizing your purchase of a one-way ticket to London. “K, the flight is at 2:30 pm here, it’s about 9 and a half hours, but you’re also ahead of me, so I’ll be in around..5?”

     “Yeah, that sounds right to me,” Tom chuckled, “I’ll come pick you up. I’ll wear my incognito disguise.” 

     “If you mean that stupid t-shirt you got that says ‘I’M NOT A CELEBRITY’, then maybe I’ll ask Harrison to come pick me up…”

     “That’s cold (Y/L/N).” 

     You giggled softly, “I’m sorry, Tommy. If it makes you feel better, that shirt isn’t as bad as that stupid blue beanie that you never wear correctly.”

     “How the fuck would that make me feel better? You’re killing me, (Y/N/N).” 

     You laughed at his over dramatic reaction, “Sorry that you’re a sensitive babe. I gotta go now, see you soon!” You hung up before Tom could respond with a sassy quip. Then immediately after you received a text:

Tommy: The second you get here I’m bout to 👊 

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     Tom called Harrison up after you got off the phone, he needed to make sure his best friend wouldn’t say or do anything to embarrass him in front of you. 

     “Tom, don’t you think this is a bit obsessive? I mean, she’s only staying with us for a week and you already know her so well from spending all that time filming with her.” Harrison sighed, sick of listening to Tom ramble about every possible embarrassing situation he could be put in, in the coming week. 

     “Yeah, yeah, you’re right. It's no big deal. But don’t mention that time I accidentally shit my pants at the club, or that time I got hit in the head with a golf ball ‘cus I got distracted by a flock of geese, or that time a got chased by a flock of geese, or—”

     “Geez, mate. At this point we might as well not even talk to her.” Harrison chuckled, thinking of all the stories he could bring up about Tom around the dinner table with you. Tom really was just a walking ball of embarrassing moments. 

     “Stoppp ittt,” Tom whined, “when we were on set it was usually just the cast and Harry around, but you? You could do some real fucking damage to my love life, Haz.” 

     “What love life?” Harrison barked out, laughing. 

     Tom then hung up and began praying to whatever god was out there that this week could go by without a hitch, and then you and him would be on your way, together, to Japan. 

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     The whole week spent in London actually went really well, especially the audition. Tom and Harrison both accompanied you for moral support, well Harrison actually had to be there to be your scene partner, but it was still nice knowing he supported you. 

     The director shook your hand and you went through the normal formalities before beginning your scene with Harrison. It was a quick scene with a monologue in it. The main premise of the movie was all about choosing love over work, especially in dangerous, life-threatening scenarios. The scene you used to audition with Harrison was the scene where the main character, Lincoln, and his lover interest, Mallory, were arguing, trying to push each other away to keep each other safe. The scene had a lot of raw emotion that you were able to tap into, and the directors gave your performance a standing ovation once the scene concluded. 

     They said that they’d get back to you within the next few days, but they also mentioned how the chemistry between you and Harrison was off the charts, leaving you hopeful. Tom and Harrison both gave you hugs and pats on the back. Tom had watched the whole scene unfold and he was in complete and utter awe of your talent. Part of him was annoyed that he didn’t audition for the movie and a chance as your love interest. But Harrison deserved this big break and so did you, so he was hopeful of the outcome being something that benefitted both of his best friends. 

    After the audition the rest of the week went by nearly perfectly. The real kicker was when Tom’s family invited you and Harrison to join them for dinner. Tom had not anticipated his mom asking you to come to family dinner, so he wasn’t able to stop the embarrassing anecdotes his mom told on his behalf. 

     “Tom had the cutest little tush,” Nikki exclaimed, placing the old homemade scrapbook in your lap and flipping through a couple of pages. “See look,” she happily pointed to a picture of Tom as a toddler in a bath, surrounded by bubbles, his little bum poking through them. 

     Tom sat uncomfortably on the sofa next to you, cringing at the now 21 year old photo of him. He expected you to also cringe along, or worse case scenario, get up and make a flimsy excuse to leave his crazy family, but you just chuckled along with Nikki and continued making your way through the scrapbook, making little comments here and there. 

     “Oh, and this one,” Nikki said, pointing to a photo of Tom crying and Sam holding up a superhero action figure triumphantly, “that was Tom’s favorite toy, but when Sam saw how much Tom liked it, he made an effort to always be playing with it when Tom came into the room and he wouldn’t share.”

     You giggled at the little whiny face Tom made in the picture, and turned to him, replicating it on your face, making fun of him. Tom laughed along and playfully shoved you. He adored how well you seemed to fit in with his family and his feelings for you only multiplied. 

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     The week in London was one of the best in your life. You didn’t realize how much you missed Tom until you got to the airport and he was there waiting for you, unfortunately in his stupid blue beanie, and no, it wasn’t on right, his big ears poked out of it horrendously. 

     The last day you had in London before you and Tom went to Japan, you finally received a call about the audition. The director called you to congratulate you on getting the part, and he sent you numerous emails about scheduling, where to be, and when. Harrison was elated to have a familiar face playing his love interest on screen, and Tom was over the moon excited for you, this on top of the Spider-man movie coming out, you were certainly becoming a force to be reckoned with. 

     You spent the night celebrating at a club, Harry and Sam also showed up to party with you. The night was still young and the club was already packed and in full swing. Tom ordered two shots for each of you to start off the night before he was whisked away by a few fans to sign autographs. When he didn’t return you took it upon yourself to have his shots, giving you an extra edge to help spice up your night. 

     Harrison found Tom in the corner of the club talking to some fans. But throughout his whole time taking pictures with them, he couldn’t help but glance at you every once and a while. You looked so carefree and beautiful, dancing around in your shiny silver top and leather leggings. 

      “Tom.” Harrison interrupted Tom’s gawking and directed his attention to the small group of fans Tom was with. 

     Tom nodded and finished up his pictures and autographs before wishing them all a good and safe night. Once he reached you, you engulfed him in a bone crushing hug. 

     “Thank you for such a great time in London, Tommy.” you slurred, already feeling the impact of the four shots you took. “I had the best time of my whole life.” You pecked his cheek and pulled him close to dance with you. 

                            ➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

     The following month or so on the press tour was a once in a lifetime experience. You travelled to more cities than you even knew the name of and you had all of your friends by your side. More so, you had motivation to remain approachable and well liked by fans considering that you were moving up in the industry. Some interviews were mostly for Tom, Zendaya, and Jacob. Your role in the movie was big enough for you to be needed for some interviews, and most people were genuinely interested in getting to know you, but there were also a handful of press activities that you weren’t included in, which you didn’t mind. 

     When you didn’t have anything to do for an hour or so, you would text Harrison and send him funny memes. He was quickly becoming one of your closest friends; you had already created a surplus of inside jokes with him just over the phone. 

     Tom noticed how you were always laughing at your phone or rapid fire texting. Even when you were being interviewed, Tom could faintly hear the buzz of your text message notifications going off. 

     “Tom,” you snapped in front of his eyes, “did you need something?” 

     “Huh?” Tom blinked a few times, “Uh—no, sorry.” Tom’s cheeks flushed pink, embarrassed for having been caught staring at you. He couldn’t help it though, you were dressed so pretty that day. You had your hair done up in two bubble braids and you wore his pink sweatshirt over your yellow sundress. 

     “Okay then.” You smiled at him. You went back to your phone, reading what Harrison had just texted you. “What was the name of that comedian we watched the other night?” 

     “The one on Netflix?” 

     You hummed out a yes, tapping away at your phone. 

     “Burt Kreisher, why?” Tom asked, leaning over to your chair to try and catch a glimpse of who you were texting. When he saw the contact name “Hazzy”, he couldn't stop the little angry pit of jealousy that started in his stomach. Sure, you were here with him now, not with Harrison, but when you two were apart you also texted him nonstop, and the texts seemed to all be inside jokes, which was something you also shared with him that he held near and dear.

     “I made a joke referencing him to Harrison and he didn’t get it. Fucking nerd.” You chuckled, texting Harrison a link to the skit you were referring to. 

     Tom chuckled along, but he couldn’t help but frown slightly at how bright your smile was when Harrison replied. 

                       ➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

     The press tour and premiere of the movie seemed to go by lighting fast. You’d never been to a premiere for a production this big, and your nerves for the red carpet were starting to get to you. 

     You and Zendaya were stuffed into a hotel room with both of your respective teams, both trying to rapidly get both of you ready for the event. 

     “So when do you start filming for your next project?” Zendaya asked, she sat in front of a broadway-equse mirror, bright bulbs of light giving a luminescent glow to her already near flawless complexion. She hadn’t even finished her makeup yet and she was so pretty.  

     “In a month, I have to go back to London next week.” You said, sifting through the opinions you brought for dresses. You brought three options, just in case you changed your mind after seeing yourself in the dress. “Harrison and I are going to go over the scripts together and we were also told to go out in public a few times; for press and whatnot.” 

      “That’s exciting!” Zendaya mused, she glanced at the clock and gave her hairdresser some instructions about how much time she had to do hair. “It’s a good thing you guys are already friends. I remember when I filmed ‘The Greatest Showman’ I didn’t know many of the actors personally, so we had to go out together and do press all while being almost strangers. It was a bit nerve wracking.” Zendaya smiled at you fondly, she was like an older sister to you during this whole movie-making process, she constantly had your back. 

     “Yeah, I mean I’ll probably be in a situation like that at some point, but for my first lead role it’s nice to be working opposite a friend.” You smiled back, finally deciding on the red, sequined dress. 

     You both sat and worked through the makeup process in comfortable silence. 

     “So you and Tom…” Zendaya broke the silence and looked at you with a smirk on her face. 

     “What?” You looked at her with a dumbfounded look, before nervously laughing, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

     “Don’t play dumb, (Y/N/N).” She poked your arm and laughed, “He’s literally obsessed with you.” 

     You laughed at how ridiculous that sounded. A movie star, and very famous movie star at that, obsessed with you? You? Impossible. 

     “Yeah no, sorry but you got the wrong girl, babe.” You sighed, pulling out your phone to snap and selfie with her for your instagram story. You quickly snapped a pic of the two of you, her kissing your cheek, leaving a small, faint lipstick mark. “I mean it’d be nice,” you back tracked, “but I’m sure that’s just my wishful thinking.” 

     “What wishful thinking? I thought you were a pessimist?” Zendaya chuckled, taking her own photo with you to post later. 

     “I am, but I can’t help but indulge a bit.” 

                      ➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

     Before you knew it, you were back in London, staying in a rented out flat for the next three to four months. Harrison was kind enough to come over to help you set up a work space, but he also offered you to spend most of your time at his place. Since Tom was in New York, doing interviews about the new Spider-man movie and having meetings with the Marvel Cinematic Universe team to try and gauge his future in the MCU, he wouldn’t be around for almost a month, so Harrison offered up Tom’s office when you needed to go over a scene by yourself and wanted a place that was already set up. 

     The days of filming seemed to go by in the blink of an eye. Most of your scenes were with Harrison, and he was the perfect scene partner. He rarely messed up, but if he did then he was quick to use it as an opportunity to improvise. His skills weren’t as well honed in like Tom’s, but it was obvious that their style ranged from a similar source. 

     The main thing about this movie that you were excited, but extremely nervous for, were the two sex scenes. The first one is at the beginning, where the two leads give in to each other for a night, then there's some implied stuff in between, and the last one is when the two leads part ways for the final time at the end of the movie. The first one had to be rough, fast, and needy, whereas the second one was direct to be more slow, thought out, and sensual. 

      Both were extremely stress-inducing to film. Harrison had also never done any scenes like this before, so he was on the same boat as you. Thankfully you had an amazing director and stunt coordinator to work with and with the help of other crew members, the scenes were mapped out so that it wasn’t too much improv or guessing on your part. 

                                 ➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

     The first intimate scene you shot actually happened to be the one at the end of the movie. That scene was more tame and dealt with more emotional subtexts than physical. Since you filmed that one first, you went into filming the next one with more confidence. It only took a few days to get the first scene down to perfection, so with this newfound confidence, it shouldn’t take too long to get the next one done. 

     On the days you shot intimate scenes, you only needed to wear the costume you wore before the scene and then you changed into a robe with nude underwear underneath. The bits with the outfit on before were already shot, so the director called a 30 minute break until you could begin shooting the actual sex part. 

     You were standing by the snack table, eyes scanning the table for any more muffins leftover from breakfast. The robe you wore made your skin prickle whenever a draft came onto set. 

     Just as you had found the muffin you were looking for, a pair of warm hands covered your eyes. 

     “Guess who!” An all too familiar warm, British accentuated, voice called. 

      You turned around in his arms, effectively nudging his hands from your face, and soon you were met with the warmest hazel eyes. Eyes that you missed so much this past month. 

      “Tommy!” You squealed and thrusted yourself into him in a hug. He immediately reciprocated it and wrapped your body in warmth. “What’re you doing here?” You asked once you let go of him. 

      “Harrison gave me the location so I could come watch you film. I just got home, like, two days ago.” Tom eyed you up and down, not realizing what little you had on. “Um—are you wearing anything under that?” He pointed up and down your figure. 

     “Nope, today and tomorrow we’re scheduled to film the sex scene.” You said casually, doing a silly twirl. Tom gulped. 

     “A s-sex scene?” He choked, “I didn’t know you guys had one.” 

     “Yup,” you smirked, “two actually, this is my first one ever, Haz’s too, I think. Well actually, we filmed the sex scene at the end of the movie last week.” 

     “Yeah… t-that’s cool.” Tom smiled weakly. 

     Right as you were about to continue your conversation with Tom, an arm swung over your shoulder and pulled you close. Harrison smiled at the both of you. He wore a similar robe to yours, except he left the front open. His plaid boxers on full display. 

     “Don’t listen to her, Tom. She’s a natural.” Harrison pinched your cheeks. Tom clenched his jaw at the comment. He knew Harrison hadn't meant to imply anything with it, but he couldn't help but hear the hidden meaning behind the otherwise innocent compliment. 

      You giggled and pushed his hand away, “Only ‘cus my scene partner is so darn cute.” You retaliated, poking and tickling his pecs. 

      This kind of goofy banter was normal between you and Harrison, but Tom hadn’t seen either of you in so long. He also had never seen you two interact so fluently with each other. He watched the interaction with a tight-lipped smile, nodding along and shrugging every once in a while to seem like he was paying attention. In reality though, he couldn’t pry his thoughts away from how close you were to Harrison. 

     “Ok everyone! Places! Let’s wrap this scene up and put it to rest today!” Your director called. You and Harrison smiled and waved goodbye to Tom. Harrison pointed to a chair in the room that had a nice view of the set where Tom could watch. Tom nodded and walked over to the chair, enthusiasm for watching you work completely dissipating. 

     The scene started off rough right off the bat. The second the director said ‘Action!’ you and Harrison were practically pouncing on each other. Harrison had you pressed up against the wall and you were both breathing heavily. He was leaving sloppy, wet kisses down your neck, then across your collar bones. Your moans, which Tom always imagined to sound like music to his ears, sounded too real for his liking. But no matter how much he tried to look away, his eyes were glued to the two bodies moving fluidly with one another. 

     “Cut! Cut!” The director yelled, effectively ending the scene. You and Harrison pulled apart and he gave you a peck on the cheek, as in saying ‘good job’. “That was good, but Harrison,” The blonde nodded, awaiting further instruction. “You gotta be a little rougher, hm?” 

     Harrison nodded along with the critique. “(Y/N)?” the director moved his attention to you, “would it be okay if Harrison marked you up? Just a few hickeys to really sell the illusion. We can do without, though, if you feel uncomfortable.” 

     Tom overheard the interaction and internally hoped that you were too uncomfortable for that, but deep down he knew you would do it. You were never the type to stray away from a challenge. 

     “Yeah, that’s fine.” You nodded, chest still heaving from the scene. You looked at Harrison. “Is that okay with you?” 

     Harrison nodded, a shy smile tugging at his lips. Yeah, you guys have been working at this scene for days now, but he’d never been rough enough to leave marks. He’d be lying if he said the thought didn’t invigorate him. 

     So the scene started from the top, you pressed up against the wall, all your weight shoved between the flimsy wall of the set and Harrison’s strong arms. Harrison did exactly as the director required, leaving noticeable dark spots across the top of your chest. Unlike your previous moans, which had just been for show, this new roughness in his actions tore real moans from your lips. 

     Tom sat uncomfortably in his chair, wishing he picked a different day to visit you on set. He shifted around, watching twin moans pull from both you and Harrison’s throat. He watched as you nipped at Harrison's ear as he faux thrusted into you. The jealousy that had pitted itself in his stomach soon turned to self-loathing. You looked really into the scene, he couldn’t help but feel like he was intruding. He knew you were a great actress, but he couldn’t believe that this was all acting. In his eyes, he believed that some part of you must wish that this was real. And part of you did like this scenario, but you wouldn’t have picked Harrison to be opposite you in this little fantasy. 

     Your moans and Harrisons both grew louder, leading up to the climax as scripted. Tom, not wanting to watch anymore exited the set quickly before he could watch the scene end. 

     You and Harrison finished up, gaining applause and praise afterwards from the director and crew members on set. 

     “Where’s Tom?” You asked, scrambling back into your robe and smoothing out your now roughed up hair. 

     Harrison, now noticing the absence of his best friend, began to feel a bit guilty. He knew Tom had a thing for you, maybe he should’ve told Tom not to visit set today. 

     “Um, (Y/N)?” He mumbled, pulling you aside slightly. 

     “Yeah?” You still looked around for Tom a bit, heart sinking when you realized that he must've left without saying goodbye. 

      “I shouldn’t be the one telling you this,” Harrison began, drawing your full attention, “but Tom really likes you. He always downplayed it, so I didn’t realize how much, but I think watching this scene might’ve upset him a bit.” Harrison looked towards the exit, no doubtedly where Tom left through, out into the parking lot. 

     “Oh—oh!” You gasped, feeling terribly for having put Tom in such an awkward position. “I didn’t know he felt the same.” You whispered, smiling softly to yourself. Guess Z was right after all. You pulled away from Harrison, “I’ll go talk to him.” 

                                 ➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

      Tom didn’t go far. He still wanted to be there to support you; he didn’t want to come off as a jealous prick, but he couldn’t keep watching that intimacy between you and his best friend. He sat on the curb outside of the building the set was built in. A few people passed him going to their designated buildings on the lot, but he didn’t pay any mind to them, too lost in his thoughts. He needed to tell you sooner rather than later how he felt. No time to be a pussy anymore. 

     “Tom?” You walked up next to his sitting figure, still only in a robe, tightly wrapped around you. He looked up to acknowledge you, mumbling a soft ��Hey.’ before looking back down, trying to collect his thoughts and courage. It’s now or never. 

     You sat beside him and rested your head on his shoulder. “Harrison told me something interesting in there,” You paused for a moment before continuing, “about you.” 

     Tom’s head shot up, and he looked at you with frantic eyes, only imagining the worse. There were too many things Harrison could’ve told you about Tom to sully your image of him. 

     “Whatever it was, he's a lying prick!” Tom rushed out. 

     You giggled, lifting your head up to look him in the eyes, his dark hazel eyes boring into yours. 

     “That’s a shame then,” You shrugged, “considering I like you too.” 

     Tom breathed out a sigh of relief, before looking back at you, doing a double take. 

    “Wait, what?” 

     “Mhm, yeah.” You said casually, standing up. “But since Harrison’s a liar then I suppose he was wrong.” You teased. 

     “No!” Tom grabbed your wrist and pulled you back next to him, but his aim was a bit off and you ended up in his lap. “He lies about a lot, but not about this.”

     You smiled at him, “I should hope not, considering I’m crazy about you.” 

     Tom couldn’t help the smile that beamed across his face, but then he noticed the marks left on you by Harrison. Remembering why he was insecure in the first place, he looked away. 

     “What about Harrison?” He asked. You looked at him utterly confused. Tom caught on and explained further. “You looked like you were really into that scene with him.” 

     You giggled and pinched Tom’s cheek, turning it red. “I’m an actress, you idiot.”

     Tom scoffed, “I know that. It’s just— I didn’t realize you could fake that kind of love.” 

     You looked at Tom’s downcast face. You leaned in and kissed his neck, just under his jaw. You nipped and sucked softly, leaving a nice, dark pink blotch that would go away in a few days under his jaw and he whimpered softly.

     “I’d never fake that kind of love with you.” You grabbed his face, holding it gently in your hands. “I’d never have to.” You whispered, pulling him in for a kiss, soft and sweet. 

     Tom pulled you closer, resting a hand on the small of your back, kissing back fervently. 

     The short make-out session being cut short by the door to the set bursting opened. Harrison rushing out, now dressed in slacks and a white button up for the next scene you needed to shoot that day. 

     “(Y/N)! Hair and makeup need you.” You lugged yourself off of Tom’s lap, promising to talk to him after you finished for the day. You went back inside, jokingly blowing a kiss to Harrison on your way. 

     Harrison stayed outside and sat next to Tom. 

     “Did she confess first?” He asked after a moment of silence. 

     “Yup.” Tom smiled happily, licking his lips, tasting the strawberry chapstick he saw you put on earlier. 

     “You owe me 10 pounds then, you wimp.” 

     “Oh, fuck off.” Tom groaned, promptly pulling ten pounds out of his wallet and handing it to Haz. 

[widow-maximov]

I'll be your knight

Pairing: Natasha x Fem Reader

Warning: Language, fluff, angst, smut.

Summary: Dealing with sexism is a real struggle but eventually a line is crossed and anger is unleashed.

A/n: This is my first time writing smut so hopefully it's good enough :3

Word count: 3.5k

⸻⸻⋙☸⋘⸻⸻

Being an Avenger isn't easy, especially for any women that join the life style of a hero. You had to put up with sexist comments all the time, most of the time it didn't really bother you but the more you heard random men talking about your best friend like she was some toy, the more it annoyed you.

The comments towards you stopped when you were recruited by Tony Stark, there was some level respect for you and you kind of liked it.

You had some issues with opening up to the team but when Wanda, showed you they are harmless, you slowly opened up more and more as you knew that they were going to be your new family from now on.

Everyone on the team warned you about the one particular redhead but you didn't listen, you wanted to be her friend, she looked scary but is an actual softie, but only around you.

It took time for the Russian to even greet you when she saw you but for you it was worth it, you respected her and always been there for her when she had no one to turn to.

She warmed up to you as she saw the security you were offering her, and you never backed down from your offer, she wasn't keen on your presence but had to learn to accept it.

Even if she didn't trust you fully, that was okay. You trusted her with everything because you knew she was a human just like you and no doubt needed someone to lean on.

⸻⸻⋙☸Flashback☸⋘⸻⸻

You walked around, exploring the place that now it was your new home, you never saw anything more fancy than this place, the room you were staying in was more than enough for 4 people.

Your own tv along with your own big walk in closet and your own bathroom, literally a five star hotel, you didn't complain at all, you were just shocked at how spacious this all was.

Each room was bigger than the other and it was starting to get all confusing, when you left the room, you would get mixed up with the way you walked in.

You loved it but at the same time you hated it, you accidently bumped into the Russian, she looked sweaty in her work out clothes and you stared at her with awkwardness.

She eyed you and cleared her throat, attempting to walk past you and continue where she was going but you stopped her "I'm sorry to disturb you but I just want to know where I can find the gym"

You rubbed your neck awkwardly "I- um- I tried searching everywhere but I'm lost"

Usually when people stutter around Natasha, it meant they were obviously attracted to her but with how you stood and looked away from her just showed her that you were afraid of her.

She didn't smile or anything "Walk straight until you reach the end of the hall and turn left"

You looked at her but she was already on her way so you shouted "Thank you!"

You made your way with her instructions of where to go, she knew how to hide her emotions but it was totally shocking for you how she never had a smile across her lips.

This was your first real conversation, not the hello's or goodbye's. It was a proper conversation, well kind of a proper but it was a start and that's what made you happy.

Second encounter with the redhead was a lot better, the two of you actually had a normal conversation in the morning, you were barely awake so coffee was your way of helping with that.

Walking into the kitchen, not really expecting anyone up early this morning, but the sight of the yawning Russian met your eyes, you smiled at her the best you could as you turned to make yourself a coffee.

"You know there is a coffee maker here?" Her naturally raspy voice spoke which caused you to look at her.

"Yeah I seen it but I have no idea how to use it" You confessed, you weren't embarrassed, you just weren't that fancy to ever own one or even be around one.

She turned around without a word and pulled out a cup, placing it underneath the little nozzle and within seconds the coffee poured out, she took the cup and placed it down as she slid it towards you.

You looked at her and then back at the coffee "Thank you Natasha"

She nodded as she sipped on her own drink "Since you are the only person who is up right now, you mind taking a look at this report, I'm not really sure what it means"

You was taken back, she was asking you for help? Shouldn't she know all of the reports like the back of her hand? She noticed your silence "Or you don't have to, I'll probably figure-"

"No, no I have nothing to do today so I don't mind helping" You smiled and took the coffee with you as you followed her into the room where she had a loads of reports laid out.

You looked at all of them "You know you can work on two reports at a time?"

She nodded "I know but the more I do within a certain time, the less I have later on"

You nodded as you sipped your warm coffee, it was very different to what you were used to, but this was definitely easier to get used to. It was the first time Natasha spent more than 2 minutes with you and you were more than happy to accept that.

So from that time, the two of you worked every morning with each other on reports, you learnt so much from her and in some way she learnt more about you rather than from you, she was impressed by your calmness with her constant questions.

To be fair you wanted to open up to the Russian, she had that safety vibe coming of her and you knew that she would never betray you or your trust that you put in her.

The mornings spent on reports also turned into evenings and soon there was movies every other day, she loved horror movies but you on the other hand loved action movies, there was plenty of action as a hero of the world but it never was enough.

She started to show herself around you more often and you really liked how you could make her laugh with simply couple words. She loved how close she gotten to you and how you trusted her with everything.

She had some doubt but you were always to reassure her, she was thankful for it each time, so in return she would ask you questions about yourself and you never hesitated for a moment to tell her.

⸻⸻⋙☸End☸⋘⸻⸻

But the problem was that not everyone saw it like that, they saw her for her body but not for her heart which is one of many reasons to why she was slow at opening up.

It angered you that people didn't want to treat her like anyone else, just because she was gorgeous didn't automatically make her less of a human.

Today was one of those days where you were busy, like busy busy, overloaded with bunch of reports that needed to be sorted before the next day, so you spent your whole day in you room, you glared at the clock on the wall.

You was doing this for 6 hours straight, no breaks so you decided to just do that. You stood up and stretched out, walking out of your room without anyone around, it did ignite curiosity in you so you walked around cautiously to see what was the deal.

Three of your teammates with two random agents were placed on the couch in the living room, trapping Natasha in between them, from her body language she didn't want to be there.

Bruce and Bucky along with Steve seem to laugh at the agents jokes, you moved closer to the door as you listened to what they were saying.

"Come on Natasha, you should do that power pose and show off that body" One of the agents spoke up as they eyed the Russian.

The other agent tried to move closer to her but hesitated, knowing she could easily tackle him "You can't let that body go to waste"

The anger was raising as words spilled out of their mouths, why didn't Steve stop them? Did he really think that as well?

"I was near to tapping that ass but you know women" Bruce made a comment as he laughed along with the agents.

"If she dyed her hair blonde, the amount of jokes we could make then" Bucky smirked as he spoke loudly.

Natasha was just taking in all of the comments, you could see across her face that she didn't enjoy it at all, so she stood up and what they did next made you finally act.

They all looked at her ass and whistled "Romanoff, you should dance for us, show off those curves"

"I am a little hungry as well, you might as well move that pretty ass of yours and make us something to eat" One of the agents spoke up as he laughed.

You walked in as you raised your brows at the 5 men sitting and eyeing Natasha as a piece of meat, you pulled her into you causing her to jump a little but relax when she realised it was you.

They all looked at you and the other agent smirked "Are yous going to put on a lesbian show for us?"

Now you wasn't just unimpressed but also pissed, you pulled yourself away from the Russian as you stepped forwards in front of Natasha "Listen here you little dick, If I hear that you even looked at Natasha in any way, I will fucking haunt you and make sure you don't live to see tomorrow"

His friend was terrified, he gulped when you looked at him "As for you, I want you to go and make her a fucking five star meal and if it's not good, I swear to god you'll regret being born"

He shook his head so fast as he stood up but you stopped him with your powers "You want a show? I will fucking give you a show"

You gripped his face, squishing his cheeks very firmly, your hand started to glow blue as you made him hallucinate that he was in pain, from the fact that he couldn't move and he felt as if his skin was being peel off he only could scream.

You looked at the 4 men who looked very terrified of you, your eyes had flames and you wasn't going to go easy, on neither of them "If any of you ever comment anything sexist or inappropriate about any woman, including Natasha. I will make your life a living hell"

"Do yous understand?"

They shook their heads and scattered away from you as fast as they could, you let go of the dude in front of you, he looked weak but he gotten up so fast that you could swear he had powers as well.

You turned towards Natasha, worried "Are you okay? Did they touch you?"

You looked her up and down as you made your way towards her, she shook her head with a small smile. You pulled her into a hug as a single tear slid down Natasha's face.

You pulled away as you wiped that tear off with your thumb "Why didn't you act Nat?"

"What's the point? It wont stop them from saying what they want Y/n/n"

The pain in your heart was strong at the words, how could any woman not be scared of what could happen if they do protest against men.

You cupped her face as you looked into her eyes "Natasha Romanoff, I promise you that I will protect you from their filthy mouths"

She smiled, this time it met her eyes which caused you to smile. You crushed on Natasha for a long time and promised yourself that when the time was right you would tell her but each time it was harder to do so.

Her and Bruce at the time were something but when she decided to break it off, you were there for her you told her she didn't need to tell you the reason to why she decided that but reassured her that it was probably a good reason to do so.

Now you are holding her face as her eyes are locked with yours, you could feel those butterflies in your stomach raise up "I will be your knight in casual clothes because armour isn't my style"

She laughed with her whole heart, causing you to laugh as well "Gosh I love you.."

You froze at her words, and so did she, her eyes widen at her words but she knew there was no way out of this so she pulled her sleeve and started to fidget with it.

Your hands were on her face but dropped at those words, you stood still trying to understand what just happened, she continued as she looked down "I hope that's okay but I love you Y/n"

You couldn't believe your ears, the woman who always had trouble opening up, right now was vulnerable with her whole heart to you and you was stuck, frozen as you stared at her.

"I never had anyone stand up for me the way to did today, I started to realise that I had feelings that one day when you were near to death on that mission" She was still fidgeting with her sleeve.

"It's okay if you don't feel the same way but you just needed to know.." She confessed, she was standing in front of you holding her heart out in her hands, offering you to take it.

You smiled whole heartily as you looked into her eyes when you pulled her face by her chin "It's more than okay Tasha"

Your hands dropped to her hips as you pulled her in closer to you "Because I love you too"

That look in her eyes, you could see that she had those butterflies too, her eyes locked with yours, she tilted her head slightly to the side and crashed her lips against yours.

Her hands were placed on the back of your neck pulling you deeper into her kiss, you slowly backed her into the wall and when her back hit the wall, she gasped which you used the opportunity to slide your tongue inside her mouth.

The kiss became heated real quick, forgetting that the two of you were still in the public place, only when someone cleared their throat, make the two of you look where the sound came from.

Natasha hid her face in the crook of your neck as she quietly laughed at how awkward that is, you pulled yourself away from her as you looked in the direction of Tony, who looked at you with pure disgust.

"As if you never done this, but sorry you had to witness..." You rolled your eyes at him at first but looked over at Natasha who was still leaning on the wall "This"

She smiled as she intertwined her hand with yours and tugged it to pull you out of the living room, the two of you made it to her room but it wasn't long before you reclaimed her lips with your own.

This time it was a little bit more gentle, you backed her up to the bed as the back of her leg hit the bed frame, before you pushed her back and claimed on top of her.

The only light was the moonlight that was shining through the blinds, you kissed her passionately and redirected your kisses down to her neck, she moved her face to the side giving you more access to her neck.

You left marks as you slightly stank your teeth in but sucked the spot right after, earning a few small moans from the redhead beneath you, she was slowly turning into a mess but she managed to slightly pull you away.

"Don't you have a lot of work?" She asked a little worried but lust was more visible.

"It can wait" You declared as you looked into her eyes "Are you sure you want this?"

She smiled at you being caring and asking for consent "I want this детка (baby)"

You smirked as you placed a soft kiss on her lips and returned to her neck, giving it a couple more kisses and slowly moving down, the only thing that stopped you was the material of her clothes.

She slightly lifted herself off as you pulled her shirt off, exposing her upper body, you looked at her in admiration, her eyes had slight doubt across them but you were quick to reassure her.

"You are beautiful Tasha" You meant every word that came out of your mouth.

There was a blush across her cheeks as she smiled at you, your hand reached for the back of her bra as you unhooked it and pulled it off her.

You took couple of seconds to admire the view before attaching your mouth to her nipple, she bit her bottom lip to prevent her from moaning.

Your free hand glued itself to the other breast, giving it the same amount of attention as your mouth did, you moved your lips to her ear as your hand kept playing with her now hard nipple.

"I want to hear you Natty" You whispered into her ear and with that Natasha moaned into your ear causing a small smirk to settle on your lips.

You continued to kiss down her body until you reached the bottom of her stomach, you looked up at her to see if she was okay, she nodded to give you the confirmation.

You pulled her shorts off along with her underwear, exposing the bottom half of her body, you could smell her arousal which only fuel you on.

You teased her as you kissed her inner thigh, leaving marks there as well, you would from time to time lock eyes with her. You moved closer to her pussy, teasing her with your tongue causing some frustrated moans to escape her mouth.

Her hips would buck as you would teasingly lick her wet folds, she looked down at you as her eyes were consumed with lust "Please Y/n! Just fuck me already"

That's all you needed to hear before you attached your mouth to her dripping pussy, giving her clit the attention first as the more louder moans escaped her mouth.

You gripped her with your hands as your tongue worked it's magic against her hard clit, she was gripping the bed sheets as moans were spilling out of her lips, not caring if anyone heard.

You moved one of your hands as you slipped one of your fingers inside her and without letting her adjust you started to thrust into her, the feeling of pleasure was building up quickly in the bottom of her stomach with each thrust.

"Oh god" Those were the only words she managed to choke out, she was soaked which stoked up your own arousal along with her moans.

Her hips were quick to match your pace as you thrusted, bringing her closer and closer, you pushed the second finger inside and this time you curled the two fingers, hitting her spot all over again.

One of her hands gripped your arm as her nails dug into your skin, the other hand was still tightly gripping the bedsheet, her head was thrown back as you came up to her face.

Your pace of your fingers never slowing down but thrusting harder and fast "Let me show you how you should be treated instead darling.."

You kissed her lips as she moaned, you moved back down as you felt her walls tighten, knowing she was about to cum. You pushed your fingers even deeper into her, her breathing was heavy letting out low and loud moans.

You watched as the orgasm consumed Natasha with your name falling freely from her lips, you slowed down your thrusts to let her ride out her orgasm, holding her steady pulling your fingers out of her as you licked her clean, and moved back up to her lips.

Kissing her as she slightly moaned at the taste of herself into the kiss, you pulled away from her as she was still breathing heavily, staring into your eyes with a smile.

"Now it's your turn" She spoke in between breathes.

You shook your head "Not today darling, today's focus is you.."

You stripped yourself naked as you pressed your warm body against Natasha, glaring at the marks you left and holding her tight in your arms as she slowly calmed down from her high.

You were sure in this moment that you wanted to hear her moan your name till the rest of your life, it was the music to your ears and you didn't want it any other way.

⸻⸻⋙☸⋘⸻⸻

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[steampunkforever]

Sleeping with other people is an interesting film inasmuch as it tackles the “will they won’t they” dynamic not through blatant miscommunication (though there’s some of that, yes) but by tracing the stories of two people who can’t get over personal hangups, be it scumbag commitment issues or the relatable “can’t stop being hung up on this mediocre person who I loved in the past.”

Alison Brie plays the perfect weird girl for that job. Though her work in Community certainly proved it, this movie had her playing the semiobsessive romantic lead in a way that certainly gave off red flags without making her hostile. When Aubrey Plaza plays a crazy ex you excuse her actions because “she’s fun and attractive” but Brie’s performance is right where it needs to be, where you clearly understand the harm of her actions but still feel enough for the character to forgive her for the antisocial behaviors exhibited. Plaza’s crazy girl characters run more in the tradition of danger as attractive, which wouldn’t have worked for this film at all. Brie was the perfect casting.

Likewise, Jason Sudekis was also the perfect casting. All in all his character is a total scumbag, where a traumatic youth and commitment issues explain the WHY of his behavior but he still functions as a basically bad person. Normally I’d be tired of this character. No matter how handsome, there’s been enough of these rom com protagonists almost permanently stuck in the “enemies” portion of enemies to lovers that putting up with them to the personal growth part of the film is such a chore. Not so with Sudekis. Even when he isn’t playing Ted Lasso this man is so dang charming that while his tendencies may be negative you can’t help but love him. Great casting on this part.

The film’s ability to entreat you to love these characters despite their very apparent flaws is its superpower. Unlike so many films where the heroine of the tale does *something* and suddenly the male lead has seen the light, the romance in this movie focuses around personal growth and moves the character development subtly if with sophistication. I didn’t expect this! It’s cute!

The second time these two characters meet they’re HORRIBLE for each other and even recognize this fact. Then we find ourselves in the third act as these two people are deeply in love and not sure what to do about it and have no idea how we got there. The movie puts you from point A to point B where the end is predictable but the route the film takes is not. Subtle character development and watching these two slowly grow as people is so much more enjoyable for that fact.

Of course the very best part of the film is Adam Scott’s antagonist character, described early on as “the Pontiac Aztek of people.” Specifically what I love about him was the design choice to give him what is essentially a “mustache twirling villain��� costume spruced up for the modern age. He looks like he should wear a monocle and have a maiden tied tie a train track. It’s incredible.

[latte-fairytaekwoon]

𝐴𝑡𝑒𝑒𝑧: 𝑆/𝑂'𝑠 𝐶ℎ𝑖𝑙𝑑 𝐶𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑠 𝑇ℎ𝑒𝑚 𝐷𝑎𝑑

♡*:.｡.𝓚𝓲𝓶 𝓗𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓳𝓸𝓸𝓷𝓰.｡.:*♡

Hongjoong had offered to look after your daughter since he knew you had an interview to go to. He didn't mind having her keep him company at the studio, he usually got very lonely that a tiny bundle of sunshine would definitely brighten up his day. Noticing she was probably bored, just as he was, he thought of something.

"Hey? Princess? Wanna play hide and seek?"

She didn't even respond, she immediately ran out the door to go hide somewhere in the company. Hongjoong giggled and began counting to 20 before scurrying off to go find her. It wasn't difficult for him to find her either, her pink bow was peeking out from the table she was hiding behind in. Hongjoong quietly crept up and peeked his head out.

"Found you!" He exclaimed, which had the little girl bursting into giggles.

"Yay daddy! You found me!"

Hongjoong's heart stopped for a moment before he ended up giggling himself.

"Yes princess. I did find you. Now go hide again so daddy can find you again."

Hongjoong watched as she ran off again, a shy smile on his face as he recalled the moment. He couldn't wait to tell you about it.

♡*:.｡.𝓟𝓪𝓻𝓴 𝓢𝓮𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓱𝔀𝓪.｡.:*♡

"Aww come on kiddo. Won't you eat your food?"

Seonghwa felt helpless as the little boy in front of him refused to eat his vegetables.

"I want ice cream." He pointed to the freezer, knowing fully well you and Seonghwa had bought ice cream when you went grocery shopping.

"And you'll get to eat some, but first, you must finish this ok?"

The little boy huffed slightly. He picked up his fork but overall just toyed around with the food, not even taking a bite or even putting it close to his mouth. Seonghwa pouted, feeling dejected and hurt.

"Aww please try some at least. I tried really hard to make it delicious for you." He begged.

You honestly felt sorry for Seonghwa, he had really been trying so hard these days to bond with your son. The boy looked at him when he said that.

"You cooked this?" To which Seonghwa nodded.

The little boy inhaled and then surprised him by saying:

"Ok. I'll try some of daddy's food."

You dropped your own fork when he said that and Seonghwa stared at him in disbelief and then at you. You were both in shock, however the little boy just began eating as if it was the most normal thing in the world to say. Seonghwa was feeling so many things at once and immediately asked.

"Could you please just....say that one more time?"

♡*:.｡.𝓙𝓮𝓸𝓷𝓰 𝓨𝓾𝓷𝓱𝓸.｡.:*♡

"Sweetie. Get down from there. You might break something."

You felt so embarrassed, having your daughter run around the dressing room and climb on top of things with the members watching you. Yunho however didn't mind, he thought it was cute how active and playful she was.

"Y/N it's ok. We really don't mind." He assured you.

Turning his attention back to the tiny girl, he picked her up and sat her on top of one of the dressers in the room.

"Look at you! You're so tall now!" He chuckled.

The little girl smiled as she peered at Yunho's head.

"I can finally see the top of daddy's head." She blurted out.

Everyone in the room got quiet. Some of the boys were looking shocked while others were trying hard to not burst out in squeals. You felt your face grow red, your hands immediately covering your face.

Yunho began chuckling nervously and covered his face as well.

"Yes babygirl. You're now as tall as daddy."

He couldn't help himself as he picked her up and spun her around, completely unbothered that she thinks of him as her dad. He truly loves it.

♡*:.｡.𝓚𝓪𝓷𝓰 𝓨𝓮𝓸𝓼𝓪𝓷𝓰.｡.:*♡

Yeosang came into your house to find both you and your son restless.

"Everything ok? Am I interrupting?" Yeosang always made sure never to overstep boundaries and not get in the way of you parenting your son.

"No you're not. We're just having a tiny issue." You sighed.

"I wanna go on the school's field trip." The toddler said.

"I know you do honey, but I'm sorry. I have work that day and you can't go by yourself." You tried explaining for the 6th time in a row.

The little boy huffed, arms crossed over his chest. He then looked over at Yeosang and his eyes lit up.

"Well can daddy take me instead?"

You snapped your head in horror at Yeosang, watching as his eyes grew wide, his complexion somewhat turning pale. You wanted to crawl into a hole and die, thinking he was uncomfortable by what the boy said.

"Honey, I don't think Yeosang-"

"I'll take him."

Now it was your turn to be stunned as Yeosang firmly stated:

"I'll go with you on the school trip. Let's have a little bonding time together."

♡*:.｡.𝓒𝓱𝓸𝓲 𝓢𝓪𝓷.｡.:*♡

From the moment he found out you had a daughter, San was super eager to meet her, be a part of her life. He simply adored kids and loved your daughter as if she was his own.

He did, in fact, think of her as his own kid and wanted her to think of him as her dad hopefully one day in the future. He'd often joke with her and ask her to call him dad, but she'd always just look at him weird.

"Look! I got you this while I was away on tour."

San excitedly handed the box to you girl in front of him. She eyed it curiously before opening it, revealing a large plush toy that made her scream in happiness.

"I knew you'd love it! I saw it and thought of you." He was just as excited as she was.

"It's so cute!" She hugged it.

"Darling. Manners. What do you say?" You reminded her.

The girl bit her thumb as she walked up to San.

"Thank you daddy." She followed it by a kiss to his cheek.

San could hardly believe it. She actually said it and he was over the moon.

"Oh my God! You actually called me dad!"

He beamed with joy as he pulled her into his lap and peppered her tiny head with kisses.

♡*:.｡.𝓢𝓸𝓷𝓰 𝓜𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓲.｡.:*♡

When you called Mingi, asking him if he could do you a favor and pick your son up from school, he immediately got up and headed out. He enjoyed spending time with him and wanted to be as helpful as he could be since he knew raising a kid as a single parent was no easy task.

He waited outside the school gates, hoping to spot him there soon. When he saw him come out, he began waving at him, huge grin on his face, not caring if he looked like a total idiot. When your son saw him, he began jumping up and down, waving back and began racing towards him.

"Dad!" He shouted.

Mingi paused when he heard him say that. He looked around, thinking perhaps the kid's father actually showed up or something. But then he felt a tiny body attach itself to his. He looked down to find your son staring at him so purely as he hugged his legs. That's when Mingi realized he was referring to him.

"Did...did you just call me?" Mingi pointed at himself rather incredulous.

When the boy nodded, Mingi burst out into a smile. He picked up the boy and ruffled his hair. It was definitely a surprise, but he wasn't mad. It was a very touching moment for him and he felt like he was truly making an impact in the little boy's life, something he was hoping to achieve.

♡*:.｡.𝓙𝓾𝓷𝓰 𝓦𝓸𝓸𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓰.｡.:*♡

You figured that after finding out you had a daughter Wooyoung would give up trying to pursue you, but you were wrong. Although he was awkward at first, he soon got the hang of helping you out with her. He didn't mind changing diapers or getting up to attend to her when she awoke at night.

Right now he was hell bent on trying to get her to talk.

"Google says she should have been babbling her first words 2 months ago. We got work to do."

So there he was, repeating the word 'mommy' over and over again on various tones and speeds, hoping the girl would follow along.

"Look here. Moooommmyy." He drawled the word out as he pointed at you.

The little girl made several attempts, uttering a few incoherent noises. Then finally she said her first word:

"Dada." She innocently looked at Wooyoung.

Wooyoung was shook to the core and so were you. He just looked at her for a few seconds then turned to you.

"She obviously loves me better than you." He teased.

He then turned back to her and smiled. "Can you do me a favor and say 'DaDa' again?"

♡*:.｡.𝓒𝓱𝓸𝓲 𝓙𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓱𝓸.｡.:*♡

You were all settled in the living room watching a movie, Jongho and you cuddled up in the couch while your son opted for laying on the floor bundled up in his blankets. He was barely paying attention to the movie, instead playing around with some of the toys scattered around him.

Feeling hungry, he went to the kitchen and took out an apple from the fridge. He then walked up next to Jongho and tugged on his sleeve.

"Dad?" His tiny voice called out.

Jongho immediately looked at him.

"Yes buddy? What is it?"

The boy held the apple out to him. Jongho chuckled as he realized what he was asking for.

"All right don't worry. Daddy's got this."

He effortlessly split the apple open for the boy, who thanked him and then went back to his tiny fort. Jongho turned to you, not understanding why you had that look on your face.

"You do realize he called you 'dad' and you responded like nothing?" You pointed it out.

Jongho was surprised when he realized you were right. He only ended up giggling.

"It did come out so naturally right?" He wrapped his arm around you again and kissed your cheek.

"Maybe it's meant to be this way."

Gifs not mine. Credit goes to their respective owners.

[songbirdstyles]

white wedding.

summary: your estranged aunt leaves you her estate in her will with the stipulation that you have to be married to receive your inheritance. luckily, harry is more than willing to help.

pairing: best friend!harry styles x reader

warnings: fluff, smut, angst if you squint.

song inspo.: white wedding - billy idol

word count: 13.4k

You weren’t too close to your Aunt Alice for the entirety of your life - there’s a picture, you think, hung in your parents’ house of her and some of your other family members, crowding around your bassinet when you were just a baby, her face turned up into a scowl amid everyone else’s gleaming grins, and it was a lovely foreshadow into your relationship with her. She sent you $10 on your birthdays and Christmas (an amount that your father had always scoffed at when he thought you weren’t listening - ‘she’s a goddamn millionaire,’ he’d hiss to your mother, ‘and the most she can spare her only niece is $10?’)  and you could remember, when you were 9, seeing her at a family reunion where she sat at a table pressed into a back corner and nursed glasses of wine during the entire event.

It goes without saying, you suppose, that she wasn’t the kindest lady. Your mother had told you how Aunt Alice cut off your father for some reason nobody could quite discern and, so, she never held a much larger place in your life than a mere branch on your second grade family tree project -

But, still. It’s rather difficult to regard the dead in such a negative manner so you try and focus on the good parts of your late aunt. Twice, she wrote ‘love u’ in your Christmas card. And, at said family reunion, when you walked over to her table to say goodbye before you left, she delivered a sloppy, strangely wet kiss to the side of your face that smelled distinctly of chardonnay (a scent you hadn’t quite been able to place until years later.) And - 

“Are you alright?”

Harry’s voice snaps you out of your thoughts, gazing out the rain-streaked car window at the night sky with an odd air of sadness surrounding you. You had been trying to hide the slight dash of sadness you feel at the memory of your aunt by disguising it with a mask of sleepiness that has you leaning your forehead against the cold window, eyes squeezed shut. But Harry can read you like a goddamn book - like the back of his hand. It’s what best friends are for, you suppose.

“I’m fine,” you tell him, tilting your head away from the window to glance at him in the driver’s seat. And, the truth is, you are fine. It’s not as though you’re entirely too saddened with the news of Aunt Alice’s passing. She’d always had health issues, according to your parents, and you’re not sure what, exactly, has sealed her fate - you’re simply more confused by it all. “Well - when we were leaving the movies, I got a call from my dad. My aunt died.”

You can hear Harry’s sharp intake of breath and there’s a brief hesitation where you know he’s trying to gauge how you feel about it. “Oh,” he settles on, turning to look at you in the eye when the car rolls to a stop at a red light. “M’sorry, love.”

You shrug, glancing down to squint at your fingernails in the darkness of Harry’s car. You’d begun to pick at the baby blue nail polish he’d delicately applied the night before (they matched his, naturally) and it really is a nervous habit you should work on, but you can’t be bothered right now. “We weren’t close,” you admit, leaning back against the headrest. “It’s just weird, is all.”

“Are y’sad about it?”

“Not quite,” and it’s the truth. “She was wealthy, though. I think she wrote novels or plays or something - I’m not sure. And I was, apparently, her closest living relative that she didn’t despise.”

He clicks his tongue softly, making a left when the light finally switches to green, and his eyes shift back towards the road. “Left y’somethin’ in her will, did she?”

“Her countryside estate,” you confess, voice soft - it’s not the climax of your story but it certainly sounds like it should be, and you can see the confused crease in Harry’s eyebrows when you look up at him. “I looked the address up online, Har - it’s gorgeous, 6 beds and 7 bathrooms. I guess we had similar tastes in that regard.”

“Y’don’t sound too thrilled, for someone who jus’ got their dream house handed to ‘em on a platter.”

“There’s a stipulation in the will.”

“Ah.”

You smile tightly. “I’ll only inherit the house if I’m married.”

It’s something you’ll never understand. Aunt Alice never married and lived in that grand old house (your dream house) all by herself, and if you’d known about your role in her will perhaps you’d have argued it with her in person - the hypocrisy of it all, how goddamn unfair it was. And it’ll kill you - truly kill you - to see that house go to whoever her next closest living relative is who she doesn’t hate. Probably some third cousin twice removed, considering how great she was at cutting people off.

And Harry sits for a moment in silence, considering it. “Seems very - very - can’t think of the word.”

“Sexist? Unfair? Dumb?”

“All true,” he agrees, giving you a sympathetic smile, and it makes you feel the tiniest bit better, even if it’s just for a moment. “Barbaric, maybe.”

“I hate her,” you declare, crossing your arms over your hoodie-clad chest, and you most certainly don’t, but you’re angry enough to mean it in the moment. When your father had told you, you hadn’t thought about it too much - besides being confused by the entire thing, being left a house by a relative you hardly knew - but saying it out loud makes you angrier, squeezing your eyes shut. “Would you know she never married? How does that make sense?” “It doesn’t,” Harry repeats, and you glance out the window, lifting your palm to wipe at the cloudy stain your forehead had made against the glass - you’re just less a minute away from your apartment building, and you rip your phone from Harry’s charger and shove it into the pocket of your hoodie. “She left you time, right? T’get married? Tha’ seems only fair.”

You snort, ignoring the way his lips turn up into a smile at the noise. “She gave me a year. I mean, I’m 23 - I wasn’t intending on settling down for another couple of years.”

If you were less distracted, perhaps you’d see his responding silence for what it is - time to think, gears grinding in his head, as he pulls into the parking lot of your apartment building and leans over the center console to wrap you in a hug. Harry’s a talkative person and he’s only really quiet when he’s got something on his mind, but you’ve got something on yours too (probably more than he does) so you ignore it. And his soft murmur into your hair of ‘I’ll pick you up tomorrow for breakfast’ sounds every bit as distracted as you feel so you simply pay it no mind.

It’s easier that way, for now.

 --

 “I’ve been thinkin’ about your situation.”

You raise your eyebrows at Harry, bent over his plate of French toast as though he hadn’t spoken at all. His sunglasses are perched at the end of his nose so you can see his eyes - which, in your opinion, defeats the purpose of even wearing the stupid things in public. But, whenever you two go out together, he insists on wearing them, along with a grey beanie protecting his infamous head of curls from any wandering eyes, and the bizarre attempt at a disguise always makes you feel like you’re having breakfast with a burglar. 

“Not much to think about,” you shrug, popping a forkful of omelet into your mouth and chewing thoughtfully. “I was just mad about it last night, you know. Heat of the moment, sort of thing.”

“I’d be mad, too,” Harry tells you, and it’s getting more difficult to ignore the way his words send heat creeping up your neck, and you glance down at your plate of eggs with a small smile gracing your face. “Not jus’ heat of the moment, either. Really mad. S’bullshit.”

A second of silence passes, and you let his reassurance settle over you - simply having him agree with you on the stupidity of the entire situation makes you feel a thousand times better. Even if you don’t get the house (and you’ve already progressed into the last stage of grief over almost certainly losing it - acceptance) at least you’ll always have Harry, and maybe that’s enough.

But the house would be nice, too.

“What were you thinking about?” You question, lifting your eyes back up to meet his through his tinted glasses, and if there wasn’t the barrier between your gazes you’d be able to note the nearly shameful glint in his eyes as he digs into his stack of sugary sweet toast, doused with maple syrup and towered high with fruit. “About the situation, I mean.”

Harry begins to speak once more just as you reach over with your fork to nab a piece of banana, and he swats at your wrist as you pop the slice of fruit into your mouth. “Don’ steal my banana, babe,” he tells you, eyes narrowing in mock anger, and you roll your eyes at the name. “Anyway. S’not totally crazy, that you could get married in less than a year.”

Yes, it is, you want to reply back, but you can tell he’s ramping up to something important, so you rest your fork on your plate and furrow your eyebrows at him pointedly. Truthfully, even if the love of your life happened to be sitting in front of you, you’re not sure you could go through with marrying them, anyway. It’s such a heavy commitment and, God, you thought you’d have more time. Time to explore and experiment and not settle down (in your dream house) just for the sake of it.

“What if we got married?”

And that - is not what you were expecting him to say.

You’re not sure if he’s kidding or not so you give it a minute before responding in any capacity. Just stare at him, and he makes a point of hooking his pinkie in the center of his sunglasses and tugging them down his nose just a bit so you can see the absolute lack of amusement in his eyes. He’s all business, goddammit, as if he hadn’t just basically proposed to you in the middle of eating your fucking omelet.

But you can’t be sure he’s serious, and you also can’t be sure that the way your stomach flipped wasn’t because of a particularly egregious sip of chocolate milk and not the prospect of marrying your best friend. So you lean back, crossing your arms over your chest. “Are you kidding?”

Harry just shakes his head, grey beanie sliding up just a bit for one chocolate coloured lock of hair to escape the confines of the dumb hat. “M’being dead serious, babe. I’ll get down on one knee an’ prove it, too.”

“Don’t do that,” you beg him, reaching out to grab at his wrist when he makes to push himself out of his chair, and his wide grin only sends your stomach into another set of somersaults. “Jesus, Har.”

“Horrible idea?”

You don’t respond right away, grabbing your glass of chocolate milk and wrapping your lips around the straw. It’s a few seconds to process the request in all its glory - marrying your best friend, even if it’s just for show, is a lot. Sure, all you’d really have to do is head down to a courthouse (you could do it today, even - if you wanted to, and you’re not sure you do.) It’d be easier than searching hopelessly for the love of your life and arrange a wedding in less than a year, and you’d be able to walk the halls of your aunt’s gorgeous estate, decorate it how you please, and - ideally - your relationship with Harry wouldn’t quiver in the slightest.

Well, maybe that’s why you’re hesitant to begin with. Because it would quiver - or because it wouldn’t - or because it’s plain weird to marry your best friend. Even if it’s for a good cause (your dream home) and even if he suggested it in the first place, because he cares about you and wants you to be happy.

That’s sweet.

Maybe it would be a glorious fuck you to Aunt Alice in death. It isn’t as though anyone would know about the inauthenticity of the union but you would, and that’s all the revenge you need for her adding such a silly stipulation to her will, anyway. A marriage born not out of love, but out of need - sure, it’s not exactly how you wanted your life to go, but it’s better than watching the estate go to someone you’d never met before. You could get married and get divorced in the time frame she’d given you to find love in the first place and it would hardly be a blip in your life plans, and certainly not in Harry’s. It isn’t as though he’d suggest it if the marriage would ruin anything for him. 

Sure, you’d prance around family parties with him on your arm to sell your faux romance to your family. Only one or two, though, his arm around your waist, and it wasn’t as if your parents hadn’t already begun to question whether your close friendship with Harry ventured into something further. And, when it’s all said and done, when the house is officially in your name and you can begin shopping for furniture to make it your own, it’ll be easy to sell the divorce - he’s touring, you’d tearfully proclaim, and the stress was just too much on our relationship. And then you’d both be happy, right? For the most part, anyway. Still best friends with no hassle at all, and you get your house and he gets the popstar life without the settling down part.

When you’ve swallowed your gulp of chocolate milk, it’s nearly worrying how much you’ve thought about the proposal.

“It’s not a horrible idea,” you begin, eyes diverting downward to where Harry’s fingers are fiddling with a straw wrapper. “I mean, it could be pretty easy.”

“Very easy.”

“We just elope -”

“Could do it today, even -”

“I haven’t agreed yet, Mr. Styles - but we would elope, and then I’d get the house, and maybe I’d bring you to a family reunion, just to sell it, and then we’re divorced.”

He raises his eyebrows, glasses sliding further down the bridge of his nose until their purpose has been completely obliterated, and his eyes are on display for the goddamn world to see. “Unless we fall in love an’ live happily ever after - no divorce necessary, m’love.”

Bastard. Your stomach flips again but you just roll your eyes, picking up your fork and lifting a shaky bite of eggs up to your mouth. “Shut up.”

You’re almost certain you’ve made up your mind but you still make a show of thinking about it, slowly chewing on your omelet and focusing your gaze on a paper napkin resting on the ground beside Harry’s chair. It’s almost too easy, the entire process, and maybe that should make you nervous, just a little bit, that the idea of marrying him feels so relaxing. But - well - if you had to choose anyone in the world to marry in order to fulfill a stipulation in your aunt’s will, it would have to be Harry.

He’s looking at you eagerly when you look back up at him, and you’re not sure why he’s so excited about it - not like there’s anything in it for him - but it’s something you’ll think about later.

“I can’t believe I’m agreeing to this,” you tell him, watching the way his grin spreads across his face like wildfire, and you can’t help yourself from smiling, too, “but I am.”

In seconds, Harry’s reaching across the table, grabbing your hand in his larger one, and just the way your heart jumps at the feeling of your palms pressed together should certainly have you rethinking your enthusiastic yes. But then he’s picking up the straw wrapper he’d been fiddling with, and it’s twisted into a makeshift wedding ring, and he’s sliding it onto your ring finger with a wide smile like a fucking puppy -

God. You’re in too deep already, and you’ve only just agreed.

 --

 For the record, you’d rethought your decision many, many times since agreeing.

You’d drafted out the text for Harry for when you inevitably will change your mind - a block of words confessing to him that you’d reacted too quickly and you think it would be best if you simply forfeit your inheritance, but you can never quite gather the guts to do it. And every time you copy and paste the note from your notes to your text thread with your best friend, something always stops you -

The photos of the house from the real estate website you’d seen it on.

Harry’s wide grin as you accepted his offer.

FIngers delicately sliding on an engagement ring made of a paper straw wrapper, and the next day when he’d shown up at your door with an actual, real engagement ring.

Naturally, you hadn’t sent it. You’d deleted the note entirely, too, embarrassed with even looking at your words of defeat sprawled on your phone screen. Sometimes, though, you wish you had fucking sent it. Nearly two weeks after accepting the proposal that still hasn’t progressed from feeling like an absolute fever dream, you’re sitting with Harry at Aunt Alice’s funeral, his arm hooked around the back of your chair and the other clutching a glass of wine that he’s hardly taken two sips of.

You’re on your second glass already, and it’s barely been an hour. You’d signed the guestbook and hooked your arm with Harry’s and introduced him as your fiance to exactly one of your great-aunts, and you’d been so nervous that Aunt Shirley could see right through your faux-engagement that you’d practically downed your glass the second her back turned. 

“This is so weird,” you confess to Harry, shifting closer to him so no one else around you can hear. Not that there is, per se, anyone else around you - not many other people are sitting down, but you and Harry were one of the first people to arrive, so you’ve given yourselves a pass to sit down for a while. “Isn’t it weird, Har?”

“S’only weird if you make it weird,” he murmurs back, and you would roll your eyes at how maddeningly calm he is if you weren’t desperate to keep up your pretense as loving fiance to the funeral goers whose wandering eyes may turn to you two. “And, babe, you’re makin’ it weird.”

Your lips spread into a smile and you lift your glass of wine to your lips, taking a small sip before bringing it back down to your lap. No matter how many times you scream at yourself, internally, that nobody knows you’re not engaged and to calm the fuck down, you can’t stop your leg from bouncing up and down, showcasing your nerves in the most outward way you possibly could. “Wonder when my parents are getting here - should’ve texted them and told them separately. Did you tell your mum?”

“Told her the truth,” Harry tells you, tilting his head into yours in a way that feels so natural you swear you could stay this way forever. “You’re not tellin’ your parents the truth?”

“Bless my mum,” you sigh, “but she can’t keep a secret to save her life.”

Harry exhales a soft laugh, eyes darting around the room full of people before landing back on yours, and your gazes lock for just the briefest of seconds before he’s glancing down at your lap. “Y’don’t have t’do this if you’re uncomfortable, y’know. We can jus’ say - the pressure of m’job was too much.”

“I’m not uncomfortable,” you tell him, which is true. You’re nervous, for sure, but he could never make you uncomfortable. “And, ironically enough, that’s my excuse for when we divorce.”

Your voice drops to a near breath on the last word and Harry’s head drops back with a bark of laughter that’s entirely too loud for the setting you’re at but you can’t bring yourself to reprimand him. “Always talkin’ ‘bout our divorce,” Harry breathes, tilting his head closer to yours so his mouth is close enough to your ear that you can feel his breath, hot against your skin. “What if we fall in love, babe? No divorce then. Don’ y’want us t’live happily ever after?”

“I don’t think that’s going to happen,” you roll your eyes, even if you’re almost positive you will (or already have) and shake your head at Harry’s resulting chuckle. “Been best friends for nearly five years, haven’t we? If we were going to fall in love, I reckon it would’ve happened already, Har.” 

“You’re right,” he agrees, voice oddly soft and sounding just sentimental enough for you to narrow your eyes suspiciously at him - but before you can question him further, his eyes dart down to where your leg is still frantically bouncing up and down. “Bloody hell, love - bouncin’ your leg so much. Y’look like a nervous wreck.”

“Thanks,” you begin, and whatever else you’d been meaning to say dies in your throat as Harry’s arm shifts from around the back of your chair and his hand comes down firm on your leg. His fingertips brush your knee and his palm lays soft against your thigh, just high enough to gently brush the end of your black dress and you wish you could control the way your stomach flips again and again like a fucking gymnast.

It’s to keep up appearances, you tell yourself. So people don’t think I’m so nervous. But it feels so nice, so natural in a way you hadn’t expected, feeling his hand resting on your thigh like it belongs there, fingertips drumming against your knee which most certainly isn’t bouncing anymore.

Your eyes flit up to his, narrowing them ever so slightly as if to sniff out his intentions, and out of the corner of your eye you can see two familiar figures walking in the high arched doors of Aunt Alice’s service. Your parents break off from each other nearly the second they enter, your father skirting off to greet some of his cousins and your mother’s eyes scan the room filled with relatives before landing on you and Harry.

“Mum’s here,” you tell Harry, pushing yourself to stand, and the feeling of his hand dropping off your thigh is a sensation you absolutely despise. He stands soon after you, adjusting the cuffs of his black button down shirt, and for the first time since the funeral began, you can see the beginnings of nervousness creeping upon him. A light pink flush works its way up his neck to his cheeks and he brings his hand up to run through his hair, inhaling a shaky breath. “You look nervous, Har. You’ve met my mum before.”

“S’different. Now we’re engaged.”

“Not too different.” You hook your arm with Harry’s, patting his hand with yours, and he gives you one grateful fleeting grin before you begin walking over to your mother. She’s bent over the guestbook, scribbling her name with the feather pen resting beside the log. You stop walking when you’re just a couple paces behind her, waiting for her to turn around and see you two - and your voice drops to a hushed tone as you reassure Harry. “I think she already sort of thought we were dating anyway - so she won’t care too much.”

“Wait - she did?”

“Hey, mum!”

 --

 You’re getting married in a week.

And, sure, you’d known that the entire process would move quicker than you could imagine but it still feels surreal and you still reckon you haven’t thought it through enough. It’s worsened (or, in some way, bettered) by the absolute adoration your family had immediately adopted towards Harry after meeting him just a few days ago, your aunts pulling you aside at the funeral and the repast that occurred after and whispering in your ear about what a handsome man he is! 

Well, they’ll certainly be disappointed when, in a month or two, you pop in to the next family gathering and announce that you two had gotten divorced as quickly as you’d been wed. Harry will be your ex husband and, at that point, surely people would be suspicious at the speed of which everything had happened but - hey - you’ll have your house and your best friend and that’s all you really need, isn’t it.

Yeah.

Slowly but surely, you’re coming to peace with it, and Harry’s certainly making it easier by being so zen about it all. His nerves at the funeral had been just about eradicated because your mum loves him, which you knew, and your father had seemed positively overjoyed at the news of your engagement, but they’d both seemed rather disappointed at your decision to elope instead of spending the time planning a big white wedding. And you’d expected that, but you figure that, by the time your second marriage inevitably rolls around, it’ll be real (realer than whatever you’re feeling for Harry, because you’re still not sure) and your father will walk you down the aisle and you’ll be able to go shopping for a big gorgeous wedding dress like you’d always dreamt of wearing.

You haven't even bought a dress. The one you’re wearing now, staring at yourself in the floor length mirror propped against your bedroom wall, is one you’d purchased for your college graduation to wear beneath your gown - simple and flowy, falling to just about your mid-thigh, and the only redeeming quality for even being considered a wedding dress is its white color. Still - it isn’t as though it’s a real wedding, in the traditional sense, so it doesn’t make sense for you to spend too much on a gown you’ll don for a trip to the courthouse and then get sad whenever you look at it again, post-divorce.

No, you don’t think you like it. You’d liked it for your graduation but for a wedding (your wedding) you wish you had something just a bit nicer, and you want to strip out of it and change back into your jeans but Harry’s sitting in your living room, waiting for you to model the stupid thing for him, and you’d hate to disappoint him. So you inhale softly, run your hand down the fabric, soft beneath your fingers, and reach for the door.

Harry’s on his phone when you step out of your bedroom, slowly shutting the door behind you, his body looking strangely large where he’s perched on the small loveseat in your living room. Everything in your apartment seems too small for him - or just too small in general - and it’ll be a nice change to live in a house where you can hold gatherings of more than 5 people without feeling like sardines in a can.

“Har,” you call, reaching down to tug the ends of your dress just a bit further down your thighs as you step further into the living room, bare feet padding against the plush rug your parents had gotten you as a Christmas gift the year prior. “What do you think of the dress?” You can hear the click of his phone as he turns it off, dropping it on the cushion beside him, and heat creeps up your cheeks as his gaze turns to you - you should feel self conscious, the way his eyes roll up and down your body, drinking in every bit of your dress, but you fucking love it. Love the way his lips part into a small o and upturn into a grin, how he pushes himself to stand and close the distance between you two until he’s hardly two inches away from you, how he reaches down to pick up the end of your dress as though examining the fabric.

“Do you like it?” You question as Harry drops your dress, letting the fabric fall back down around your thighs. “Wasn’t sure if I did.”

“I love it,” he tells you, immediate and forceful and you can tell he means it with his whole chest - maybe you love it, too. “Y’look beautiful.”

“You don’t think it’s too simple, do you?” Maybe you’re fishing for more compliments but you allow yourself to do it shamelessly. “It was my graduation dress - remember?”

“I do remember,” Harry grins, tugging at the bottom of your dress, and keeping his hands busy is a nervous habit of his that you’ve grown to recognize from a hundred miles away, but you can’t think of why, exactly, he’d be nervous now. “Looked so pretty, walkin’ across tha’ stage. I was so proud.”

You smile, gaze dropping down to where his fingers are fiddling with the skirt of your dress, and you think you’ll wear this dress every single goddamn day if he reacts as positively to it as he is now. “You sound like my dad.”

His nose scrunches when you look back up at him, and your heart twists inside your chest. “Don’ make it gross.” You simply shrug, bringing your fingers up to drum against his shoulders through the fabric of his Fleetwood Mac shirt, his muscles flexing ever so slightly beneath your touch. “M’being serious, though. I love the dress. Y’make the prettiest bride on the planet - m’a lucky man, aren’t I.”

From the moment you walked out of your room you’ve been feeling heat burning your cheeks but it doesn’t stop you from gently smacking his shoulder. “Stop it - you’re gonna make me blush.”

“Looks like y’already are, Mrs. Styles.”

Should that name make your stomach as topsy-turvy as it does? 

You shake your head, smoothing your palms over the front of your dress to both eradicate the wrinkles that adorn the fabric and to wipe off the sweat cropping up on your hands. You don’t think you’ve ever been so nervous around Harry before and you can’t quite place your finger on why, but it’s getting more difficult to look him in the eye with your heart pounding as fast as it is. “I’m not gonna be Mrs. Styles for another week.” 

Harry exhales softly, fingertips tapping against your hip and you hadn’t even realized how close his hands were to that spot of your body - but it feels comforting, his touch on an oddly intimate part of you. “I can’t wait,” he says, and you can’t, either. “Makin’ me a very lucky groom, babe.”

Hearing him call you babe could make you go crazy if you focus on it for too long, so you don’t - and it’s hard to focus on much other than Harry himself as his head drops down, forehead pressed to yours, and oh God you can smell his fucking gum, and if you tilt your head up ever so slightly -

Is he going to kiss you? You think your heart will explode but you’ve never wanted anything more so you tilt your head up, just a bit, grip tightening on his shoulder, and you can feel his breath growing warmer against your face -

The sound of Harry’s phone ringing in his pocket snaps you out of your haze.

“Fuck,” he mutters, hands dropping off your hips, and your head drops downwards with a soft groan. It was so close. You could feel his breath against your face and how did that fucking opportunity pass you by? - “S’my mum. Fuck - m’sorry.” And you’re not sure if he’s apologizing for the call or what had (or, rather, had not) happened but it doesn’t matter.

One glance at the phone he’s tugged out of his pocket shows that he’s right - Anne’s contact photo smiles up at you and you give Harry a small nod, faking the smile you’re not feeling, before taking a step back against your plush carpet as he turns around, back to you, phone pressed to his ear.

“I’m gonna change,” you whisper to no one in particular. Harry’s head turns just a bit so you can catch the apologetic look on his face before he’s loudly greeting Anne, and you’ve never liked eavesdropping on their calls. So you turn and head to your bedroom, shutting the door firmly behind you and turning to stare at yourself, wide-eyed, in your mirror.

He almost kissed you.

He didn’t - but would he have? If Anne hadn’t rung him - would he have leaned down, breathing shaky, like how it always is when he’s nervous, and ever so gently pressed his lips to yours? And you would’ve known exactly how it feels to be kissed by him, whether it would be as dream-like as all the times you’ve dreamt of it. His hands on your hips, yours on his shoulders, bodies slotted together until your hands are roaming and you’re pushing him on to the couch, sliding into his lap and his hands would roam to your thighs -

It doesn’t do well to think about it now. You don’t want to get yourself too worked up about it - that doesn’t do anyone much good - and you don’t want to take too long to change. So you inhale a soft breath, smooth your clammy palms back over the front of your wedding dress, and you allow yourself one final glance in the mirror at the attire you’ll be donning in a week’s time before reaching around to your back, fiddling with the zipper until you can begin to tug it down.

 --

 You and Harry haven’t talked too much since you showed him your dress, and it’s probably not very great etiquette for an engaged couple, but you two have never been normal anyway.

He sent you a picture of the suit he’s wearing and it’s as every bit unconventional as your excuse of a wedding dress, and you told him that - how you would be a pair for the books, the opposite of what a regular married couple looks like. And you texted him just yesterday and asked if he would make you two a reservation at your favourite restaurant for dinner after the elopement (he always tended to get the nicer tables, and you don’t pretend not to know why) and he sent you back two thumbs-up emojis in response.

You’re getting married in three days, though. It would probably be best to talk about it with him before you cross that bridge but it’s never been one of your stronger areas, so you leave it be for now.

“Are you alright?” Your friend questions, tilting her head in so you can hear her against the thumping music of the club. Your friends had insisted on dragging you out for a bachelorette party the second they hard of your engagement and it would be out of character for you to refuse a night of drinks on them - even if you’d rather stay home and think about Harry and all the things you should’ve done when he was at your apartment. Getting drunk out of your mind does seem preferable to wallowing, though, now that you’re out and about and well on your way to getting smashed - so you turn to Olivia and nod once, a simple jerk of your head.

“I’m fine,” you tell her, reaching over to grab the cocktail Amy had gotten for you and bringing the straw to your lips. “Just thinking about Harry.”

Amy snorts from her spot across the booth, dipping her finger into her empty shot glass and licking up the droplet she collected. “Can’t believe it took you two so long to get together.”

“And I can’t believe you didn’t tell us about it,” interjects Olivia, reaching over to grab your glass out of your hand and taking a sip of your drink. “How long have you two been together again?”

Fuck. You’re in the grey area between being tipsy and being drunk and you can’t remember how long you and Harry had claimed to be together. Was it a year or two years? You think it’s a year - you’d wanted to go as low as possible with your answer. Did we say six months? That seems too low. “I’ve liked him since I’ve known him,” you answer instead, which is absolutely the truth, and Amy and Olivia are both too drunk to ponder about your evasion of the question. “Loved him, even.”

Your fingers brush against your phone, sitting on the table face down, as your friends playfully swoon - the last time you’d texted Harry was to tell him you were going to the club, and you hadn’t checked to see if he responded. It’s always been a habit between the two of you to text where you’re going, in case something happens, which seems oddly barbaric at times but you’ve always appreciated it.

“You’re so lucky,” Amy informs you, reaching across the booth to intertwine your fingers. She gets sappy when she’s drunk and you can tell from the distinct crack in her voice that she’s mere seconds away from bursting into tears and professing how much she loves you and Olivia - you don’t ever quite enjoy being around to see that. “I mean, really. You and Harry - we always knew it would happen -”

“I should call him real quick,” you mumble, watching as her eyes water over, and Olivia rolls her eyes with a grin as she scoots around the other side of the booth so Amy can throw her arms around her. You grab your phone and push yourself out of the booth, maneuvering through the crowd of people until you’ve reached the bathroom.

It's a single stall and the club is small enough that you only have to wait a minute or two before a thoroughly shitfaced woman stumbles out of the bathroom, a piece of toilet paper stuck to the bottom of her shoes, but she’s gone before you can point it out to her. You brush it off with a shrug and shut the door behind you once you’re inside the bathroom - it smells like Febreze and mint soap, and the scent of the mint reminds you of Harry’s breath and you really need to call him, don’t you.

You’re scrolling through your call log before you can wonder if calling your best friend who you’re in love with while you may be quite drunk is a bad idea - the phone is ringing just as you begin to - and he’s picked it up just when you realize you’ve made a mistake.

“Hey, babe,” Harry says from the other end, voice crackling with the poor reception in the club. He sounds groggy and raspy and you can tell you’ve either woken him up or he’s trying to go to sleep, and you don’t actually know what time it is, you realize. “What’re you up to?”

“I’m at a club,” you tell him, and you can hear his soft exhale of air and you can practically picture the slow smile spreading across his lips. “I’m out with Amy and Olivia - they wanted to take me out for a bachelorette party or something - s’kinda dumb, I dunno -”

“Are y’drunk? S’just, you’re slurrin’ a lot -”

“I’m tipsy,” as you sit back on the closed toilet seat, fingernails digging into your thigh. You don’t actually know what you’d called him to say but four days without talking to Harry seems like it’s setting some sort of record and you hate it. “Just wanted to call because - um - well, I miss you.”

For a second you think the call may have broken up - you can’t hear much beside his soft breathing, and you pull the phone away to check if it’s still connected. But then he sighs softly, and you’re quick to press your phone back to your ear. “I miss y’too, m’love - ‘course I do.”

“That’s sweet.” You hum softly, kicking your toes against the tiled bathroom floor. “I thought you might be mad at me.”

“Why would I be mad?”

“Dunno,” you shrug. “That’s why I was confused. But you haven’t texted me much.”

You can fucking sense him rolling his eyes. “Well, y’didn’t text me either. I thought you were mad at me -”

“I’ve been thinkin’ about what happened the other day,” you interject, and you know you wouldn’t be telling him this if you weren’t teetering more towards being drunk instead of tipsy, “and I really wanted to kiss you, you know. I mean, I thought you were going to - and then it didn’t happen.”

“Well, m’mum called.”

“Would you have done it if she didn’t?”

There’s a pause for only the briefest of seconds before Harry says, “‘Course I would have.”

Your heart flutters inside your chest and you lean your head back against the wall, nails digging further into your thigh and it’s difficult to hold back the grin that threatens to split your goddamn face in two. God, he would have. He would have kissed you - does he love you like how you love him? It seems fucking unreal, like something you’d dream up in your deepest sleep. You’d never thought Harry would ever feel the same way, even as you got a fucking marriage license together and planned out the dinner you’d eat after your elopement and -

You can’t think of a single other one of your friends who would fucking marry you for any reason, house or no house, life or death. And who would you do it for? Not Amy, not Olivia, even if they asked you nicely. It’s a commitment - a huge one - one that you wouldn’t be willing to do for anyone.

But you’d do it for Harry, in a heartbeat. You know you would. You’d have the fucking dress on before he could finish asking, and isn’t that what you had done, really? He hadn’t had to convince you much at all. You’d been willing from the get-go.

“Really?” Your voice is barely a breath, a soft exhale of air, reeking of the giddy joy you’re feeling at his proclamation. “Don’t lie to me.”

“Y’know I never lie to you.” Harry sounds nearly offended at the mere idea. “You are m’fiance. Comes with a code of conduct.”

You roll your eyes, and just then there’s a loud knock against the door - you jump violently, phone nearly slipping from your grasp. For a minute you’d forgotten you’re in a club bathroom and you know you’ve been here far too long to be appropriate - you’ll give yourself just one more minute to talk to Harry. “What about when we get divorced? Gonna lie to me then?”

“Always talkin’ about the divorce,” he murmurs, and his voice sounds so full of adoration that you’re nearly overwhelmed by it. “D’you have such little confidence about the strength of our relationship?”

If it were up to you, you’d be with Harry forever - but you can’t tell him that, not yet. “It’s not as though it’s a traditional relationship, you know. I don’t think most marriages that began for the sake of a house inheritance last too long,” you smile, feeling heat burning up your face even if he can’t see you. “Just generally speaking.”

“Hope y’got the statistics t’back that one up -”

Another louder knock shakes you again, and you jump up as though someone had set you aflame. Your phone nearly slips out of your clammy grasp once more and you clear your throat, lowering the device to your shoulder and calling, “Just a second!” to whoever’s waiting impatiently outside. You raise your phone back to your ear and clear your throat again. “I’ve gotta go, Har. I’m in the bathroom at the club - been in here a bit too long.”

“Aright,” Harry says, and you can hear soft shuffling from the other end, audio still crackled by the reception. “Breakfast tomorrow?”

You tilt your head to the side, scrunching your nose up before remembering he can’t see you. “I think it’s tradition for the bride and groom not to see each other before the wedding, isn’t it?”

“Now you’re a stickler for tradition?”

“I’ll see you at the courthouse, Har,” you tell him, before pulling the phone from your ear and hanging up. For a second you can’t move, staring down at Harry’s contact in your phone with a giddy grin that surely makes you look like some child in a candy store - and, in a way, you are - and it’s only a third knock at the bathroom door that has you scrambling out the door, giving an apologetic grin to the girl waiting impatiently.

 --

 Being married - for the record - doesn’t feel too much different than before.

There’s a shiny ring on your finger that Harry had bought, and when you glance across the table where he’s sitting, clutching his menu, you can see the similar wedding ring on his left hand - it’s simplistic and small and contrasts with the rest of his clunky rings and it makes you feel strangely warm inside when you spend too long looking at it. And, even after you and Harry had talked at the club, your ‘post-elopement’ dinner doesn’t feel entirely different than all of the other dinner dates you’d shared before the entire situation began. It’s familiar and sweet and his ankle is hooked around yours under the table, forcing a permanent heat onto your cheeks.

Harry rests his menu on the table, fingertips drumming against the laminated paper, and you similarly drop yours to look at him. “Think m’gonna get the spaghetti.”

It’s a testament to the slight air of awkwardness surrounding you both that the only thing he can think to talk about is the food he’s getting - but you’ll play along. “I like the raviolis,” you tell him. “Think I’ll get those.”

He hums softly, pushing his menu further into the table. “Can y’believe tha’ we’re married? I can’t. Seems so weird.”

“Doesn’t feel that different,” you disagree, toes tapping against his ankle beneath the table. “It’s not like we didn’t go out for dinner together before we got hitched.”

“We’re playin’ footsies under the table, babe.”

You grin down at your napkin, resting on your lap on top of your wedding dress. “Be careful or I’ll kick you, Har.”

His ankle tightens just a bit around yours beneath the table and you could watch that small smile spreading across his face for the rest of your life. “Y’wouldn’t dare - don’t y’love me?”

Yes, you do, so you resist the urge to unhook your ankle from around his and deliver a swift kick to his calf - just rest your palms on the table, scratching lightly at the rustic wood of the table. It’s hard for you to even pretend to be mad at him when all you can think about is how much you want to climb over the table and straddle him - as his wife you suppose it isn’t an insane thought, and you’re nearly certain he’s feeling the same way. Hadn’t he told you he would have kissed you if he hadn’t been called by Anne? Maybe you’ll get a chance to do it again - later. You’ll never give up the opportunity again.

“When d’you get t’move into the house?” Harry questions, leaning in just a bit in his seat. 

“A few months, I think.” You shrug. “Reckon I’ll start redecorating before then, though. I’m already looking at furniture - I’ve gotta save up for most of it, though. Might sell my apartment before then.” There’s a pause, and then you shrug once more, picking at a crack in the table. “I’ll probably move back in with my parents.”

Harry’s eyebrows are raised when you glance up at him, fingers paused in their drumming on the menu. “Are y’kidding? We’re married. You can move in wit’ me.”

“I can’t ask you to do that -”

“Not asking, are you? Even if we didn’t just elope at a courthouse, you’re still m’best friend. Can’t have you moving in t’your mum’s basement.”

You smile softly, flattening your palms against the table and craning your neck to examine the ring - proof that it had really happened, that you’re really married. It still doesn’t feel quite real, no matter how many times you and Harry casually talk about it. “Was gonna live in her attic, actually.”

Harry rolls his eyes. “I’ll pay f’the furniture, too. Don’t look at me like tha’ - s’our house. Needs t’be ready f’when we move in.”

You hesitate, trying poorly to conceal the way your grin is arching further upwards at the mere prospect of what he’s hinting at. Living with Harry? Jesus, even if you weren’t in love with him, living with him sounds like an absolute dream, only made better by your feelings for him. And picturing walking through an Ikea, searching for furniture, feeling his arm around your shoulders as you two look online for decorations - if heaven were a place on Earth, it would be your Aunt Alice’s estate, soon inhabited by you and your husband. “Well, we’ll talk about it, alright?” you land on as your response. 

For a moment, neither of you say anything, and the silence isn’t as stifling with awkwardness as it had been before. Then Harry reaches over, resting his hand overtop of yours, fingers instinctively intertwining, and your heart nearly splits itself in two - he initiated it, holding your hand, and maybe you shouldn’t feel so surprised but you can’t fucking help it. Your scalp is tingling and you swear your eyes are going to bubble over and his hand feels just as soft and beautiful as you’d expected - as you’d always dreamed of.

You’re not sure when, exactly, there would ever be a better time to tell him than now, so you clear your throat and squeeze his hand and confess, “I’ve liked you for a really long time, Har.”

Sharing your feelings isn’t necessarily your strongest spot but you’re feeling egged on by absolutely everything, and the way Harry brushes his thumb against your palm encourages you to continue. “I mean - since we met, basically - but I never told you. Never thought you would like me back.”

“I did,” he interjects, and you look up at him with furrowed brows. “Liked you back, I mean. Clearly - hope y’didn’t think I’d run off an’ marry anybody this fast.”

“I just thought you were being nice.”

“You’re silly, then.”

“A real idiot,” you proclaim, rubbing soft circles into the back of Harry’s hand, and you swear you’ll never let go unless someone fucking rips you away. “Guess I should’ve figured it out, then - seems like we did everything in the wrong order, right?”

Harry snorts, a noise that draws the slightest attention from an older couple sitting at a table beside you, but neither of you pay them any attention. “Get married first, fall in love second.”

“I was already in love,” and you’re not sure why, exactly, you had said that but it feels right and true falling off your tongue so you decide, pointedly, not to regret it.

There’s no hesitation when Harry responds, voice laced with the authenticity you’re so desperately craving - “Reckon I was, too.” You barely get a minute to process that and how it’s making your stomach do flips and turns like an Olympic medalist before he’s standing up, fingers still interlocked with yours to pull you up with him. “How d’you feel ‘bout a sleepover tonight?”

“A sleepover?”

He barely looks at you as he fishes through the pocket of his dress pants to pull out his wallet. “Not like we haven’t had them before.”

That’s true - you’ve slept over at Harry’s house so many times, it’s like a second home to you - but you have a distinct idea that, based off of your previous conversation and the wedding rings shining on both of your fingers, this sleepover will be just a bit different. 

“Skipping out on the reservation, then?” you question, squeezing Harry’s hand as he tosses a $50 onto the table - a significant overkill for your lemonade and his Coke but you suppose he’s feeling rather generous today. “I am rather hungry.”

“We’ll eat at my house,” he insists, leading you through the maze of tables with a grip that’s so tight, you wonder if he’s having the same qualms as you are about never letting go. “Y’like pizza, don’t you?”

 --

 You’ve been in Harry’s house more times than you can count, but it’s never been like this.

His hand is still firm in yours and it’s a feeling you adore - even if his palm has gotten clammier with every second, every step you took closer to his front door, and you can practically smell the nervousness rolling off of him. It’s not unlike the worry that’s overtaken you because you’re not quite sure what he’s expecting - only know what you want to happen and you pray to any god above that your desires align with his.

The sound of Harry shutting the door is the only crack of noise burning through the otherwise thick silence surrounding you. Neither of you had known what to say and the car ride was taken in comfortable silence, hands clasped and heads bobbing to soft music playing on the radio, but being in his house is different - there’s no music, no excuse for Harry to keep his eyes off of you, nowhere to lean your head and pretend to be resting your eyes while your heart uncontrollably thumps against your chest.

In ways, it’s better. Most ways, in fact.

Slowly, you turn to face Harry, fingers drumming against the back of his hand. His breathing is heavy and his eyes never leave yours, and you’re reminded remarkably of trying on your dress for the first time in front of him and your position hadn’t been too unlike this one - maybe now you can do it right.

It feels entirely natural, tilting your head up until you can easily slot your lips to Harry’s. They’re soft and plump and he kisses you back with a vigor you hadn’t quite expected - deepening it before you have the chance to react, his free hand that’s not clutching yours roaming to your neck and you can’t ignore the way your stomach flips at the feeling of his hand on your throat. But then his hand keeps moving up, palm pressing to your cheek in such a sweet gesture that doesn’t at all match the intensity with which he’s slipping his tongue into your mouth - your hand lands on his waist, gripping the flowy material of his dress shirt, pulling his body as close to yours as you can get.

You only pull away to catch your breath, grip tightening on his shirt to ensure he won’t move away - you need him close to you, need to feel his body against yours - the bulge near his thigh that you can feel against your pelvis, hardening with every second that passes.

“Why’d you move?” Harry questions, voice soft and vulnerable and you can’t help but lean up and land another kiss to his mouth. 

“Had to breathe, Har,” you murmur, smoothing your hands against his waist and the wrinkles you’ve surely created in the fabric. His fingers brush the edge of your jawline and you can feel your skin growing goosebumps beneath his touch.

He simply hums in response, ducking his head down to kiss you again. It’s sweeter this time, soft and fluffy but you don’t want that now - God, you want his hand around your neck and his knee between your thighs but perhaps that’ll have to wait for another time. You’re needy for just about anything you can get and if that’s sugary sweet kisses, a touch so gentle you could trick yourself into believing it isn’t there, then you’re more than grateful.

Harry’s teeth dig into your bottom lip, hard enough to have you moaning into his mouth and your nails dig into his through his shirt - the resulting whine into your mouth has you smirking against his lips, pushing your hips further into his. It’s the clearest way you can think of to tell him that you need him beyond kisses and touches.

“Jesus,” he breathes and you can feel his cock, twitching against your thigh and it’s a sensation you never thought you’d be able to experience outside of your deepest dreams - it feels twice as good as you’d imagined. “Gonna make me go crazy, babe.”

That’s exactly what you want.

“Hey,” and you pull away from him, his forehead dropping against yours, his breath still hot on your face, “don’t we have to fulfill the tradition of consummating the marriage?”

He laughs, a loud exhalation of air rather than his true barking laugh, but you smile anyway at the sound. “S’not the middle ages - no one’s expecting us to, if y’don’t want to.”

“Of course I want to.” Harry’s hand slides backwards into your hair, pulling the strands into a ponytail and tugging and your resulting moan has him smirking like a smug bastard against your lips. “God, Har. I really want to.”

It seems that that was the exact response he’d wanted - you get one last lingering kiss to your lips before Harry’s pulling away, hand falling away from your hair and other still interlocked with your own. You don’t have a second to question where, exactly, he’s leading you but then he’s tugging you through the foyer and down the halls and up the staircase you’ve grown to know so well - the trek to his bedroom has never seemed so viciously long until now, but by the time Harry swings open the door, you feel as though you’ve been walking for hours instead of barely a minute.

“On the bed, babe,” he directs you, all raspy tone and dominance lacing every last syllable and you can’t ignore the gush of arousal you can feel rushing straight to your core. It’s the stuff that makes up dreams, really, his fucking voice, and you know just the four simple words would be enough to get you off for years from now. “C’mon.”

You wouldn’t dream of disobeying - your footsteps are nearly completely silent on the carpet as you walk over to the end of Harry’s bed, pushing yourself up to sit on the plush duvet, sinking into the mattress that feels like an absolute cloud compared to the rock you’re used to sleeping on. For a brief second, he doesn’t move - just stands and stares at you, chest heaving through the baby blue dress shirt that your needy grasp had wrinkled. Then he moves, shutting the door with a barely perceptible click before making his way over to you, gazing up at him with heat blazing in your eyes.

Perhaps you’re expecting him to push you onto the bed, to fulfill the dominant tone he’d held before, so it is a bit of a surprise to see your best friend (your husband) dropping to his knees before you, fingertips ever so gently trailing up and down your calves.

The bedroom is so silent, save for your panting breaths and Harry’s shaky ones and you reckon he may be more nervous than you are - you’d expected him to handle all of the confidence between you two but his fingers are shaking as he pulls off your heels, resting them side by side on the carpet at the end of the bed. Chills crop up over your skin as his gentle touch roams up your legs, landing on your knee, and your breath hitches in your throat as the man you’ve loved for nearly 5 years leans in, lips landing a soft kiss to the top of your calf.

This isn’t what you had expected - him fucking worshipping you, on his knees - you’d never pictured it in a million years. And maybe it’s proof of the difference between him and the other guys you’d been with - your ex-boyfriends and flings had always been worried about their pleasure, never paying you any attention, and Harry couldn’t be closer to the end of the spectrum. Your entire body feels warm beneath his watchful gaze and touch, how he brings one hand up to snap firmly when your eyes flutter shut. 

“Look at me,” Harry directs, and despite the slight strain in his actions, his words still hold a never-faltering dominance that he’d had before. “C’mon, babe. I don’ want you to look away from me - can y’do that?”

It’s a task that’s easier said than done, but you nod anyway, swallowing thickly as Harry redirects his attention back to your legs. His hand, resting delicately on your left knee as though you’d break if he put too much pressure, slides down the length of your leg until he’s grasping your ankle, kneading the soft skin in his grasp while his lips linger at the top of your knee.

Using his grip on your ankle, Harry hoists your leg up onto the bed without warning, your toes digging into the end of the bed - uses his other hand to push your thigh outward so you’re on display for him like a goddamn feast and his smug grin proves that he can see just how wet you are, soaking through the white lace panties you’d chosen for the occasion. Heat blooms up your cheeks as he presses an open mouthed kiss to your thigh, teeth grazing your soft skin, and then he gives a dramatic inhale and - that’s -

You reach down, bracing both palms on the side of his face and forcing your husband (husband!) to look at you in the eye. He looks confused by your interjection and apologetic and that isn’t what you were going for but you hadn’t expected him to want to eat you out - most guys didn’t.

“You don’t have to do that, Har,” you murmur, giving a pointed glance to your lap that he’s been eyeing like it’s his dessert. “I won’t be mad.”

And Harry looks almost offended by the prospect of not wanting to, like you’d insulted him - “I want to. D’you not want me to?”

“Yes,” you reply, your voice hardly above a breath, and when he begins to pull away you continue. “No! I mean - yes, I want you to.”

He grins, wide and toothy and reminding you of exactly why you’d fallen for him in the first place, and you settle back into your spot on the bed with your nerves almost completely eradicated. He wants to - he’s not doing it because he feels obligated - it’s already a step up from any other guy you’d ever been with.

Fingers trail up your thighs as Harry’s lips close around the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, cheeks hollowing as he sucks a deep purple hickey, and you lift your hips just a bit so he can hook his fingers in the waistband of your panties and begin to tug them down. The crotch area is practically dripping with your arousal and it takes a bit more force to tug it away from your cunt but once they’re gone, Harry grabs your ankle again and straightens out your leg, making it easier for him to tug the offending material down your body and toss them away from the bed before resting your foot back on the edge.

You can hear his shaky breathing as he pulls his lips away from your thigh, thumb smoothing over the mark he’d left as if to prove it exists. You’d get it fucking tattooed if you could - to forever commemorate this experience - his mark in such a secretive place, just a breath away from where you need him most.

“Jus’ - jus’ tell me if y’want me t’stop,” Harry tells you, eyes interlocking with yours once more, and you jerk your head up and down once. “Lean back f’me, then - not too far, jus’ a bit - still need t’see you.”

So you lean back, propping yourself up on your arms, a barely reclined position from how you’d been sitting before. It’s easier to see him as he grabs the hem of your dress, tugs it up just a bit, but when you lift your hips so he can pull it out from under your ass he doesn’t comply - well, perhaps he has other plans with it, doesn’t want the dress to come off just yet, and you can respect that.

The time it takes for Harry to duck his head beneath your dress, tongue flicking against your overly sensitive folds, seems like fucking years even if it’s hardly a second, but when he does your hips instinctively jerk forward into his mouth. His eyes are flashing when he looks up at you and you breathe out a stream of apologies, heart thumping in your chest, fingernails digging into the comforter beneath you. “Don’ move,” he directs, and you nod again and again and you don’t stop until his lips close in around your clit.

Your head drops back with a low moan as Harry’s teeth graze your clit, cheeks hollowing as he sucks the sensitive nub like it’s what he was born to do. The bottom of your dress covers the top of his head so you can’t see what he’s doing - you have no idea what his next move is and it makes the pleasure rolling through your body that much better.

“Fuck - fuck, Har -” the only two words you can think to moan roll off your tongue like a mantra, your back arching upwards despite his warning not to move but he doesn’t mention it - just drags one hand up, fingertips light and dancing on your thighs until he can splay his forearm across your lower stomach, effectively pinning you to the bed. Your hand moves from digging into the sheets to digging into his scalp, tugging at the loose strands of hair that smell ever so slightly of gel and it makes your heart swell to imagine him putting product in his hair for the elopement - but before you have time to dwell on the sweetness of the sentiment, that talented tongue is licking a thin stripe up your folds before flicking your clit and you’re brought back to reality. “Fuck.”

“Feel good?” Harry mumbles, muffled where his face is pressed firm to your pussy and the vibrations of his words reverberate against your clit, sending a chill up your spine, and you let out a low whine at the sensation. 

“Yes,” you breathe in return, tugging at his hair just a bit, the strands forming a makeshift ponytail like he’d done to you before. “Feels so good, Harry, god -”

His head pulls back just a bit, hem of your dress dropping to just the tip of his nose so you can see his eyes - smug and glinting and you’re sure that, if you could see his mouth, those lips would be upturned into a smirk and practically dripping with your arousal - but he goes back in just as soon as he’d pulled out, burying his face in the apex of your thighs and you collapse back against the bed with a shout.

Whatever order he’d given you to maintain eye contact disappears. It isn’t as though you can see his eyes anyway, and you couldn’t stop yours from rolling back into your head if you tried. Ecstasy rolls through your body and, God, you know you’re close already, thighs tensing under where Harry’s palm kneads the soft skin, hard enough that you’re sure you’ll see bruises tomorrow. Your cunt clenches and flutters around the emptiness you’re yearning to get rid of and your back arches up again, Harry’s restraint on your torso not enough to stop it now, and you’re so fucking close.

“Harry -” you moan, digging your fingernails into Harry’s scalp and relishing in his responding moan to your clit - “gonna cum, Har -”

He doesn’t say anything - but you can feel his tongue continuing its work, up and down your folds and circling your clit and that’s response enough. Your hips jerk into his face, back arching as you grasp his hair tight enough that it has to fucking hurt but then you’re cumming and -

“Oh, fuck!”

Your voice is high pitched, cracked with a desperate sob right in the middle of your words before you’re holding Harry’s head to your pussy, his tongue working your clit like he was born for it, his low moans muffled against you. The hand previously holding down your torso slides up your body until he can shove his hand into the top of your dress, tugging it down so your chest is. He plucks at your nipple before grasping your tit, full in his palm, and the added stimulation prolongs your orgasm, hips rolling against Harry’s working mouth.

You can’t see straight when Harry pulls his head out from the bottom of your chest but when your vision focuses you’re beyond thankful. His chin is glistening with your arousal, tongue poking out to lap at the moisture on his lips and he dons that shit-eating grin you’ve grown to know so well. You usually see it when he wins a board game or when you’re celebrating something - seeing it on his face after he’s finished giving you the best orgasm you’ve ever gotten is certainly different but not unwelcome by anyone’s standards.

There’s a second where all you do is lie back and catch your breath - staring up at the ceiling above you, chest heaving as the aftershocks race through your body. Harry, meanwhile, pushes himself to his feet, muttering a small groan about God, m’fuckin knees and gettin’ too old for this, aren’t I?

Lazily you hold your hand out towards him, wiggling your fingers, and he reaches out to interlock your fingers again. “How was that?” he questions, voice soft and almost insecure and it’s a sharp contrast from the dominance he held before, but you know it’ll come back.

“I think you’re a natural at that, Mr. Styles,” you tell him, squeezing his hand in reassurance as you pull him closer to you until his knees hit the bed and he’s forced to collapse on top of you, grin cracking onto his face. “Gonna undress me?”

“‘Course,” Harry murmurs, leaning down to place a brief kiss to your lips, but before you can lift your head to deepen it he’s rolling off of you, shifting onto his side and shuffling upwards so his head rests on the stack of pillows. You raise your eyebrows at him - it isn’t as though he can take your dress off from that position - but, as though he can read your mind, he raises his hand and pats his lower stomach pointedly. “Climb up, babe.”

For what seems like the millionth time today, you can feel heat pulsing in your cheeks but you hope it doesn’t show - just sit up, swing your legs around so you’re straddling Harry, hands on his chest and gazing down at him like the God he seems to be. His hair is splayed out on the pillows beneath him, bottom lip tugged between his teeth, and you can’t help yourself - lean down to land your lips to his again, and this time both of you allow it to deepen. His hand starts at your cheek like it had before but you reach for it, fingers wrapping around his wrist and maneuvering it downwards until his palm is wrapped around the column of your throat, and he squeezes once experimentally.

You moan softly, hips rolling against the pointed bulge in his dress pants, and Harry’s eyebrows raise. “No fuckin’ way,” he breathes, squeezing again just to hear the way your breath catches. “Gonna be th’fuckin’ death f’me.”

You’re fine with that, and you reckon he is too.

You reach behind you, tapping along your back until you can reach the zipper. You’ve only tugged it down an inch or two before Harry’s free hand replaces yours, dragging the zipper down as far as it can go before reaching for the bottom of the dress. It’s gone in an instant - tossed off the edge of the bed, to be worried about later - and you can feel his fingers fumbling with the clasp of your bra before it comes undone, and then you’re naked.

You’d expected yourself to feel more embarrassed, or perhaps just nervous, and maybe it’s the effects of your previous orgasm but you’re feeling surprisingly calm - or maybe it’s how Harry looks up at you like you’re some sort of goddess sent from above, as though he’s never seen anything more beautiful.

It does wonders for your self esteem, truthfully.

“Gonna undress me, then?” Harry questions, hands smoothing up and down your thighs, eyes drinking in every bit of your exposed body on top of him.

You hum softly, pinching at the soft material of his shirt. “I don’t think so - want you to fuck me in your fancy clothes.”

“Well, if I’d known tha’ was an option -”

“Do you want me to put the dress back on?”

“No!”

You grin down at him before rolling your hips over his again, and it’s the last thing you manage to do before his grip lands on your hips and he’s flipping you over - your head lands dangerously close to hitting the headboard but it’s worth it, seeing him above you, fully clothed, pupils lust-blown and wide.

It hardly takes a second for Harry to undo the button to his pants and the sound of the zipper being undone is like music to your fucking ears - you spread your legs, letting him slot his body between them and oh, you can feel the tip of his fucking cock it’s right there and -

The first movement, Harry pushing himself inside of you, has you throwing your head back against the pillow, the moan coming from your throat mixing with a cry. He’s big - certainly bigger than you’d ever expected and bigger than any guy you’d been with - feels like he could split you in half if he wanted to but he stops, hands smoothing up and down your body, and you make a point of reaching for his hand and interlocking your fingers.

You’ll never grow tired of holding his hand, you think. Not for a while, anyway.

“How’re you doin’?” he questions, voice strained, and when your eyes shift back to him you can see the droplets of sweat beaded on his face. “Jus’ - jus’ tell me when, alright?”

“When,” you breathe almost immediately. You hadn’t needed too much time to adjust but you need him to move - you’re so pent up and you know it won’t take long to take you to your second orgasm but, God, he needs to fucking move. “Please, Har - please, fuck me.”

It doesn’t seem he needed much more encouragement than that. With one final move of wrapping his free hand firm around your neck and giving another small squeeze, Harry pulls out agonizingly slowly until just the tip of his cock remains in your heat. Just as you open your mouth to beg him to move again he slams back in with a force you hadn’t anticipated, your body rocking backwards of its own accord with the weight behind the thrust.

It’s exactly what you’d needed, though - fast and rough and his hand, cutting off your airflow just a bit, just enough to have you quivering beneath him. The low groan that rips out of his throat, reverberating through the humid bedroom has you pushing your hips up to his, trying to deepen where he’s buried inside of you to the hilt but you’re not sure how much deeper he could get. Feels like he could split you in half with every desperate thrust, every rut of his hips into yours and yours back into his.

“Oh - god - m’fuckin’ good girl, so tight around m’cock -”

Another rush of arousal gushes straight to your core with his filthy words and your head falls back into the pillow with a high whine, nails digging into the back of his hand as his other one tightens grip around your neck. It makes every desperate moan and cry that much airier and you can tell Harry likes it, staring down at you as his hips pound yours with absolutely no mercy and you don’t want any, anyway. It’s the subject of every single fantasy you’ve ever had about him, rough and hard and the sound of skin slapping skin overpowering your needy noises.

You’d never dreamt it would feel so good.

“Oh god, Harry!” Your eyes are rolling back into your head as your free hand trails down your stomach, shaking fingers focusing on your ignored clit and beginning tight circles around the nub. The jolts of pleasure that run through your body are - god, fucking amazing and you know you’re close, hardly need anything else to tip you over the edge. “Gonna - gonna cum, Har -”

It’s a testament to, perhaps, the long-growing tension between the two of you that his head drops backwards with a cry of me, too in a tone that’s so desperately vulnerable and it’s exactly what you’d needed - the reminder, in the midst of the rough thrusts and desperate moans, that this isn’t a one time thing. If you both allow it, it’s the rest of your life, just like this - and, God, you’ll allow it.

Your cunt clenches around your cock as you cum, eyes rolling back into your head and body spasming beneath him. In the midst of it Harry pulls out and you don’t get a second to question the sudden emptiness before you feel a familiar warmth hitting your lower stomach, and you open your eyes in time to see your husband, hand working at his cock as ribbons of cum spurt onto your stomach.

(You think you could cum again just from the sight but - well, you’ll hold back.)

His breathing is choppy and desperate, broken occasionally by a needy moan until he’s finished and he collapses on his back beside you, hands still intertwined with no intention of letting go. Nothing needs to be said - not yet - not for a little while, where you’ll talk about it more. 

A little while ends up merely being a minute or two before Harry swings his legs over the edge of the bed, hand still clasped in yours, and makes to stand up - it’s only your tightening grasp on his hand that forces him to stop, glancing behind him to look at you.

“Don’t,” you plead, throat already feeling sore and voice raspy. “Just - another minute, alright? Then clean up.”

He hums softly but you know he won’t resist the prospect of just a brief cuddle - one of the few things you hadn’t done often when you were just friends, because you knew that, if Harry held you as close to him as he is now, lips pressed to your forehead, you wouldn’t be able to resist telling him how you felt about him.

Doesn’t matter now, though. And his arms feel so warm around you, clammy palm still pressed to yours like a fucking couple in middle school but you wouldn’t dream of letting go. It’s all so - so peaceful, lying with him and listening to his heartbeat as you rest your head to his chest, listening to his heartbeat thumping as fast and hard as yours is.

And - well. Barely a month ago you were convinced your Aunt Alice was the worst woman in the world - a hypocrite and an asshole, set out to taunt you by lording your dream home over you and snatching it away when you couldn’t find a husband in time. But now? Feeling Harry, landing soft kisses again and again to your forehead, you figure she’s not so bad, after all.

[immaturityofthomasastruc]

IOTA Reviews: Rocketear

The Rocketeer is a 1991 Disney movie set in 1930's America where a test pilot gets a jetpack and uses it to fight Nazis and— Wait, what? “Rocketear”? Oh, damn it!

Let's get into the eleventh (chronologically the seventeenth) episode of Miraculous Ladybug's fourth season: Rocketear.

We start off with Carapace and Cat Noir struggling to hold back some T-Rexes brought back to life by a scientist Jurassic Park style. Seriously, they reference the movie in the same scene.

Why wasn't this the plot of the episode again?

After managing to tame the dinosaurs with a whistle of all things, Ladybug notices something's wrong with Nino after he gives the Turtle Miraculous back to her. Apparently, he's wondering why Rena Rouge (who he knows is Alya) wasn't recruited with him today. Ladybug tells him that he was the only help she needed today. In reality, it's because Alya has adjusted to her new role of supporting Ladybug behind the scenes in her new form, Rena Furtive.

And I'm not a fan of the new form. I get the camo, but it doesn't really help her blend in when her suit is bright blue. I think it's based off the arctic fox, but that animal is able to camouflage itself because it's fur matches the snowy environment. I'm sure a bright blue jumpsuit won't stand out when she tries to blend in at all. Also, the fact that Alya can just change her hero form gives even less excuses as to why Ladybug's new form is only when she uses her Lucky Charm.

Alya is struggling to keep this a secret from Nino because they don't have a lot of secrets in their relationship. Marinette says she can kind of get it because she had to keep her identity a secret from her friend and has to keep keeping her identity a secret from everyone else. Basically, she's telling Alya to suck it up because this is what being a superhero is.

So the next time she sees Nino, Alya tells him she's no longer Rena Rouge, but not about Rena Furtive, which troubles her. The very next scene shows Alya showing Marinette pictures she took of her new costume and asking her which version looks better.

You could always try reviewing Akuma fights. I heard there's one blog that does it when they're not criticizing the famous director Thomas Astruc on social media.

Yeah, in case you can't tell, Alya was only able to rent her brain for a few episodes because she really doesn't seem as understanding about being a superhero as she was in earlier episodes. In episodes like “Optigami” and “Sentibubbler”, we saw Alya use more strategy and show discretion as Rena Rouge, seemingly taking her job more seriously, but then this episode just had to go and piss it all away. I also love how the first time the animators made Alya's skin the same when she's transformed is in a single frame for a joke.

Alya thankfully deletes the picture, but Nino overhears her talking about struggling to find more content for the Ladyblog, and decides to go to the movies with her to help take her mind off things. Nino, in turn, proceeds to give the same reaction to the in-universe Ladybug movie that Astruc gives to the PV.

Apparently, that movie's already getting a sequel and it has a teaser. So was the sequel animated at the same time as the original like Back to the Future Part II and Back to the Future Part III?

Nino gets pissed the next movie in the Ladybug Cinematic Universe will feature Rena Rouge and not Carapace... even though Rena Rouge debuted first. The teaser then shows Rena Rouge falling for Cat Noir (yet another creative liberty taken by the writers or something Astruc's self-insert threw in himself), and takes it like it's the real thing. Dude, the first movie said Ladybug was afraid of cats, and the director yelled at the person it was based on for judging it. He clearly has a hard time distinguishing fiction from reality.

Alya leaves Nino early so she can go on patrol, but Nino sees Cat Noir heading out as well. He then watches a video on the Ladyblog where Alya praises Cat Noir which is totally not Astruc projecting or anything.

I don't know what your definition of a prince is, Alya, and I honestly don't want to know.

So Nino takes this as evidence that Alya is in love with Cat Noir and decides to tell Adrien, who naturally laughs him off. And just before you think we have an episode where Adrien plays the straight man, Adrien decides to visit Alya because he's afraid he accidentally charmed Alya.

Yes, because Cat Noir is so charming, girls are just fighting over him, aren't they?

We then cut to a black and white film noir monologue by Nino (dressed like a detective with a fake mustache), who decides to spy on Alya. When Cat Noir asks Alya if she is attracted to him, she naturally laughs him off, though Cat Noir is thankfully a good sport about it, even giving her a hug to apologize. Unfortunately, Nino took this the wrong way.

The next day at school, Nino takes Adrien into his “office” (it's really an excuse to reuse the boiler room setpiece), and shows him the picture of the hug. Adrien says that Alya would never fall for Cat Noir because she's always dedicated to finding out the truth and telling her boyfriend everything. What's Nino's retort?

Okay, several problems with this bit. First of all, why would Nino even tell Adrien any of this? What would it accomplish? Why not say all this to Alya while confronting her about her alleged unfaithfulness? Second, Ladybug didn't give Nino and Alya their Miraculous at the same time until it was an absolute emergency. She outright said in “Hero's Day” that she didn't have time to recruit Nino and Alya separately.

Ladybug: I'm sorry for what I'm about to do. I know I'm revealing your secret identities but I don't have time to find a good excuse to give them to you separately. Rena Rouge and Carapace, I need you both!

Nino and Alya kept their identities secret from each other until then, with Alya even keeping the fact she knew who Carapace was a secret as well. Nino didn't find out because “they don't hide anything from each other” (which I plan to talk about later).

Other than that, I actually liked Adrien in this scene. It was really investing to see him try to justify the whole secret identities rule while Nino blatantly said there was an exception. This is the kind of stuff I wanted to see when it came to Adrien doubting Ladybug, not him destroying things in his anger.

While Nino rants about how Cat Noir “stole” Alya from him, Shadowmoth sends an Akuma his way, turning him into Rocketear.

And the design he has is just boring. It's just a blue jumpsuit with some black spots that look like teardrops, a teardrop-shaped head and a visor. I think the reason this season's been relying more on past Akumas and using more Sentimonsters is because DQ is terrible at character designs. I mean, compare this suit with Aigraon from Zyuden Sentai Kyoryuger (his Power Rangers counterpart is Wrench from Dino Charge).

The design does so much more with the teardrop motif, giving him a perpetually miserable face with tear lines going all over his body. Add that to a more diverse color scheme, and you have a much more visually stunning design. And this was created in real life, not rendered on a computer. I'm not sure if this is a budget thing or a laziness thing, but if it's the former, you really need to do better, animators.

The powers are meh, giving Nino the ability to fling explosive tears at enemies. It's a clever idea, and it makes sense he gets a power that parallels Cat Noir's, but I think maybe it would have been more interesting if he couldn't control the tears at all. Like, imagine if he was constantly crying like Blue Diamond, and with every tear he shed, Rocketeer could send it at whoever he felt was causing him misery, mainly Cat Noir, all while serving as a metaphor for people who blame others for their own personal issues. Better yet, make him look like the detective outfit Nino wore for the second act. It would have made him more unpredictable instead of making his tears generic projectile weapons.

Marinette and Alya see the fight and transform into Ladybug and Rena Furtive respectively, the former summoning her Lucky Charm, a projector. Is it just me, or has this been happening with Ladybug a lot recently?

Back to Rocketear, we get a good moment where Cat Noir intentionally lets the Akuma hit him so he can get a chance to resolve things diplomatically. See, this is a moment where Cat Noir's self-sacrificing nature feels heroic and not selfish like when he does it without Ladybug's permission to spite her. Unfortunately, it doesn't really go anywhere as Ladybug shows up and plays the recording Nino took (Alya found his phone earlier), while Rena Furtive uses her Mirage to give the audio to what actually happened that night.

Rena transforms back into Alya and embraces Rocketear, who apologizes to her for his behavior. And then he just... rejects Shadowmoth's power while looking like it wasn't that much effort.

At least when Chloe and Alya did it, we saw them struggling for a little longer. I guess maybe it's because Nino is motivated by his love for Alya, but I think it should have been fleshed out more. So Ladybug purifies the Akuma, gives Nino a Magical Charm, and Cat Noir is still unsure about his feelings for Ladybug at the moment, though they still pound it.

Back in his room, Adrien ponders why Alya and Nino get to know their identities while he and Ladybug can't, but Plagg points out it's because she's the Guardian. It's brief, but I do like seeing Adrien start to doubt Ladybug's judgment, and it looks like it'll foreshadow future episodes. This is a problem I've had since “Hero's Day”, and I'm glad the writers are finally acknowledging this double standard. I just hope they don't end up blaming Marinette for whatever happens later on.

Marinette, of course, apologizes for what happened between Alya and Nino, and I have to say... yeah, no. It's obviously Nino's fault here.

Nino really pushed personal boundaries in this episode, much like Marinette's friends in “Gang of Secrets”. Yes, honesty is a valuable trait, but sometimes, people have secrets they want to keep to themselves. Nino's idea of “not hiding anything from each other” is somewhat controlling, like he's demanding Alya tell him everything whether she wants to or not. The fact that he immediately assumed Alya was cheating on him without giving her freedom to make her own choices doesn't make him look good. Let's be honest, a more realistic outcome would be Alya choosing to break things off with Nino or at least lecture him about how she can do what she wants and keep the secrets she wants. But instead...

And that's how the episode ends.

Okay, Marinette just said she trusted Alya to make the right decision, but I highly doubt she meant this. Marinette strictly said Alya had to keep Rena Furtive a secret, and now she's telling Nino this despite the risk? The whole reason Marinette and Luka broke up was because Marinette had to keep her secrets from Luka, but now it's okay for Alya to be completely honest? How is this not a double standard?

This episode was just dull, and there’s not even much I can really say about it.. There were a handful of standout moments, and the stuff with Adrien was somewhat compelling, but Nino's behavior was just insufferable and dragged the episode down. The Akuma fight was weak, only lasting about four minutes at most, and while the Lucky Charm was more creative this time, the plot was just frustrating. It's really one of the weaker episodes this season.

Now if you'll excuse me, I'm off to watch the better Rocketeer.

[taeilskitty]

Hii

I noticed your request is open

I'd like to request celibate doyoung smut with arranged marriage au!

Would appreciate it if you could add a lot of nipple play!

Thanks!

Thank you so much for the request!! I really enjoyed writing this so I hope it was good enough. Enjoy love <33

You hadn’t known Doyoung for long.

He was nice enough, he was respectful and pretty funny, good company too. It wasn’t such an issue that you were going to have to be together for, well, ever.

Forever is a long time. In all honesty you’d always dreaded your wedding day because you knew there was no chance of marrying someone you actually loved; that’s a fantasy you knew you’d just have to live out in your next life. But the first time you were introduced to your future husband, you realised that maybe, just maybe, you could make the most of it.

You weren’t best friends by any means, let alone lovers, but at least you were on the same boat. Both living with parents who had a plan since before you were even born, a prophecy they’d already written out for you. Whatever.

Maybe the knowledge of your fate was the reason for it, but you were never overly concerned with love. Of course you wanted it, but you’d learned to be your own person too. And that was great. Doyoung had once admitted that he was relieved about that; “I was worried you’d be disappointed,” he’d told you, “because I can’t do… any of that.”

It sort of warmed your heart. He was fairly open with you, and for that reason was sure not to cross any of your boundaries. You liked that about him. You could certainly get used to seeing his face everyday. And honestly it helped that he was… really fucking hot.

Your wedding was actually really nice, what with all things considered. You made the most of the celebrations and he seemed really calm as opposed to you who was frankly scared shitless. His family liked you, your family liked him, and most importantly you liked each other - or at the very least you tolerated each other.

“I can’t believe you’re my husband,” you laughed once it was all over. “Thank you for making the day a little less scary.”

“The pleasure’s all mine, Y/N. Honestly.”

You smiled at Doyoung and looked back out across the moonlit sky. It was proving to be an emotional night, a surreal one at that.

“Before we met I was scared you’d be some creep, like, a total weirdo.”

“You seriously think your parents would let someone treat their kid like shit?” Now he was the one laughing; you both knew your parents were a lot of things, but they’d never want to see you get hurt.

“Okay, fair,” you agreed, and turned back to face him. “I’m surprised they didn’t dump me with someone crazy ugly though.”

Doyoung smirked. “Oh?” His eyes darted away momentarily. “So you do like me. Huh.”

Something told you he was only half kidding, but the giddiness in your gut made you wonder if this was the feeling all the blockbuster romance movies tried to convey. You weren’t in love. But you sure were glad it was him next to you right then.

“Don’t get so cocky.” He gasped sarcastically in response to your playful rejection. “I’ll put up with you.”

“I give it a week before you’re head over heels in love with me.”

Standing up, he looked back sort of expectantly.

“You wish. I think you just want me to be in love with you.”

“You’re married to me,” Doyoung scoffed. “C’mon. Let’s head inside.”

You stood up and looked at him for a moment. He still had that glint in his eye that suggests something isn’t quite right, like he’s waiting for something.

His beauty is… almost unfair. There’s no way your parents’ taste in men was this good, especially when picking some guy out for you. It made no sense - how was he so attractive? You knew it wasn’t just the light because, let’s face it, anyone can see how hot he is.

You sighed, and you shook your head when he asked if something’s wrong.

Doyoung placed a hand on your shoulder. He seemed far more nervous than he did before, particularly when you stepped in just a little closer. He could practically feel your breath mixing with his; your lips almost brushing against each other.

“What?” You ask when he breaks eye contact. “Never kissed anyone before?”

“Actually, no…” He let out a nervous chuckle. “I wanted to wait till I was married. It just feels weird that now I am…”

You weren’t sure why this shocked you, but it kind of made sense. Of course he’d waited, he was so angelic. Not even necessarily innocent by any means, and honestly it wouldn’t have bothered you if he’d slept with 1 or 100 people before. But somehow this made him… cuter?

You vowed not to laugh. You wanted to, not because it was funny or anything, but because it was just kind of endearing. You smiled at him.

“That’s okay, I’m no expert at it.”

Doyoung was silent for a second, but he looked back down at you with confidence in his eyes.

“My parents made a good choice with you.”

The space between your lips finally closed.

-

Despite having no experience, Doyoung knew how to draw whines out of you and kiss you in a way that sent butterflies to your stomach. He tugged on your bottom lip and held you with just enough force to make you feel the perfect amount of helplessness. It came naturally. The kissing, the touching, the clothes coming off. He even took the time to admire your body. How the fuck did he get so perfect?

“You’re really gorgeous, Y/N…” he muttered against the skin of your neck, your hands wandering into his hair. “I’m so glad we found each other.”

“Mmh-” A gentle moan escaped you when he grazed his teeth over your sweet spot. “You’re - you’re so hot.”

Doyoung chuckled a little bit and lay back on your now-shared bed. You’d clambered on top of him nervously, adrenaline coursing through your body, excitement chasing after it. He couldn’t hide how hard he was, not in those boxers - and there was no way you could ignore how big his cock felt strained against you.

“I - are you okay with this?” He asked, pulling away for a moment. The look in his eyes was sincere.

You nod. “God yes.”

That’s when he pulls you back into the depths of his kisses and hisses when your hand tugs at his boxers. He’d waited so long for this moment, and it was happening with someone he couldn’t believe he was so lucky to marry. The pair of you were nervous of course, but the mutual understanding you had was enough. The fact that Doyoung had already asked if you were comfortable made you want him even more for some reason.

“Ride me,” he breathed. “Please.”

Doyoung’s cock felt so fucking good. It stretched you perfectly, which hurt a little more than you’d like to admit but the feeling of him inside you just felt… wow. He threw his head back as you moved on him slowly.

“God, fuck, keep doing that baby,” he moaned.

Baby. The pet name sounded incredible coming from him.

“Yes sir,” You mocked, but the way he cursed under his breath when you said that told you he was into it. “Oh you want me to call you that, don’t you?”

“Shut up.” He was blushing just a little, and brought your lips to his again. “Don’t try and tease me, I can’t take it. Not this time. Seriously.”

Something in Doyoung’s voice sounded desperate. You wanted to taunt him so badly, but despite the fact that he’d never done this before, it made you wince with pleasure to think of all the things he could do to you when you get more comfortable with sex. He wrapped his arms around your waist and kissed up and down your collarbones, bucking his hips up into you. He mentioned how tight you were, how good you felt around his cock and how bad he wanted to cum in you. The rasp in his voice sent you reeling, and you tried to reply but when he took your nipple into his mouth you almost started crying with pleasure.

“F-fuck!!”

It was one of the most incredible sensations, his tongue lolling around the bud paired with his cock deep inside you. The way his teeth nipped against the sensitive skin was enough to make you both cum. You felt… amazing. Clenching around his cock, you dug your nails into his back and whined far louder than you intended; a hand began to play with your other hardened bud and sent your mind into oblivion.

“So good…” He moaned, kissing along the width of your chest to switch sides. The sudden cold air against your spit-sodden nipple made you shudder but the coolness was a part of what made it feel so much better. Doyoung’s tongue flicked and played with you to an unconscious rhythm played by the fingers opposite, not at all in tune with his hips now snapping against you but fuck it felt good. He sort of whimpered, not in a submissive way but in a way that sounded overwhelmed with pleasure. He was clearly enjoying what he was doing, his cock buried in your hole and his mouth on your chest; it was like he’d dreamt of this moment. He’d never admit that he had, not yet anyway, but the anticipation leading up to him finally getting to fuck was a lot for him. As for you… you were no stranger to fantasising. You’d wanted sex for a long time. It felt so much better than you could have hoped; it sure helped that Doyoung actually took the time to focus on how you felt too, but really you were perfectly happy grinding on his huge cock alone.

It slowly built up. The friction was unbearably good. The sensation of his mouth against your chest, his hand gripping your waist for dear life, his cock sliding in and out of you -

“Fuck, fuck--”

You came, hard, clenching and panting and grabbing fistfuls of his hair as you did so. “That’s it,” Doyoung breathed, “cum for me baby.”

You rode your orgasm out on him and tried so hard not to let your entire body jerk with each thrust he made after you came, until finally he followed suit. He moaned into your skin and god, he sounded perfect. The noises that came from the man’s mouth were nothing short of beautiful. This was heaven, or at the very least Earth’s closest replica to it.

“Ah,” he panted, still inside you, allowing the both of you to come down from your high. “Thank you, love…”

“No, thank you,” you laughed. “That - I didn’t think it would feel so good.”

The smug look on his face was pretty hard for him to hide. “Hah. Well. Me neither, to be honest.”

The two of you looked into each other’s eyes once more and you just felt so comfortable. A kiss came so naturally once again, and you realised that maybe, just maybe, spending the foreseeable future together wouldn’t be so bad.

You hadn’t known Doyoung for long.

But it would be a lie if you said you couldn’t see yourself falling for him.