#i love you all — new friends and old. quiet and loud. whoever you want to be here with me ! i am happy for it ! you are more than welcome !

[willowser]

i do want to say that — when going on this lil hiatus, i fully and completely was expecting to lose like half of you LOL like i legitimately made myself okay with the idea of losing most of my followers, and told myself, "they'll come back — probably — when you start posting again !" and not only have i continuously gained followers, but i have also just passed another milestone 💀 willow brain tiny; cannot process 😌✨️

[meanbossart]

How does post-tadpole DU drow feel about his past self? Does he even see himself as the same guy, or is it more "that was another person"? I love how all of us get to interpret how the amnesia affects Durge's sense of identity and I'm curious how the drow in the present feels about this past version of him once he has full context. Does he fear accountability for what the Old Him did or does it not really cross his mind? How do his friends deal with the revelation that Gortash drops on them at the coronation (re: you used to be Bhaal's Chosen).

This is a great question!

He definitely divorces himself entirely from the person he used to be, and you could say he's right to do so. The man DU drow was between becoming Bhaal's chosen and being betrayed was a very specific, tailored persona - He was boisterous, he was loud, he was talkative, he concerned himself with how his hair looked, how his clothes fit and how they were made, he liked to be noticed for his achievements and he was a proud and self-titled extension of Bhaal's body who denied himself individuality to the point of abstaining from ever being named.

If Gortash, or anyone else, happened to disclose even a third of this and his prior life to him, DU drow must have scoffed in their face and understandably come to the conclusion that it weren't only his memories that had been wiped - his whole personality had.

He doesn't care about vanity! Except for his body and build, but that's because he needs to stay in shape to survive out there, of course. He's not loud or demanding - well, except when he has to be to get what he wants. And of course, he's his own man now - whoever that man might be - with a stubbornly strong sense of individuality and bound only to his own whims - which just so happen to be to fulfill Astarion's every desire (or what he assumes his desires to be).

Then there's the teenager who arrived at the temple. Quiet, distrusting, borderline feral with a desperate need for comfort and companionship that he had no understanding of. The kind of person that he would have later laughed at as the Chosen for being primitive and clueless.

It's honestly very funny how he has grown to be a perfect mixture of those two individuals and has fooled himself into thinking he is a brand new being instead. He thinks he is not to be accounted for for any of his previous actions or life choices - not even in a "I didn't know any better" type of way; literally it's as if they weren't his doing at all. He sleeps great at night, besides the nightmares.

As far for how the others reacted, I think Shadowheart feels surprisingly similar about it. Whoever he once was, he isn't anymore - and he has kept whatever this thing is under control enough not to gut them, night after night, so clearly he is trying to fight it. Having no memories of the past herself helps, as well as having disavowed her own previous identity - not only in sympathizing with him but also in the sense that she doesn't recall whatever havoc the bhaalists spread across the Sword Coast prior.

Astarion feels like Astarion feels. His reactions as a romanced companion felt very sufficient and fleshed out to me. He's known something has been wrong from the start, he has nearly fallen victim to it himself and watched DU drow trash and struggle with it while gagged and bound. Things simply fell into place after the revelation and while it was more than he had bargained for, he had gotten into the water with both feet at that point. He probably proceeded to go home and weight his options ("PROS AND CONS OF DATING A MURDER PRINCE - PRO: FAMILY RICHES AND POLITICAL INFLUENCE? - CON: MIGHT MURDER ME REAL BAD) but he would have stuck to DU drow's side whatever he chose to do and made the best out of it.

And of course, he understands what it is like to do bad things against your will. He also understands that that doesn't really apply to DU drow.

Gale! Ohhh Gale. I think given the experience Gale had had thus far (being antagonized, mocked, made to beg for donations that would keep him from exploding like an egg in a microwave, having his heart lightly broken for a second time) he was in self preservation mode - express the due shock, then say it's fine, and that he'll get through it (you do not believe he will) play along until you can get the crown and then whatever happens, it simply won't matter anymore to you.

[jackiequick]

Coyote got some Sugar today | Top Gun Maverick Fic 🍬

Top Gun Maverick AU Series

Pairing: Javy "Coyote" Machado x Carmen ‘Sugar’ Lopez

Summary: What happens when you fall for the new co-teacher, who just happens to be an old crush of yours?

~~~

Poor Coyote, he was surrounded by lovebirds every single day of week. His friends, his officers and even his own students at TOP GUN every few weeks, were discussing the very topic of love. Javy was never one to chase after love or anything related in his life but it surprised him, maybe because it was Spring time or something, he didn't understand.

Currently he sat in the lobby reviewing paperwork for his older student, Frankie's reports of the planes metrics when he heard Fanboy sitting behind him on the blue comfy couch. "Hey man." Said Mickey, removing his sunglasses.

"Hey." He replied with a soft smile, pushing the paperwork away for a moment, "Tired?"

"Yeah, you?"

"Not yet. Just been thinking."

"Thinking about what?"

"My life, I'm 28, a great pilot with kick ass friends and roommates with Hangman. But no—you know."

"Girlfriend? Seriously dude, the right girl will come around eventually."

"Says the one who's also single! Rooster got Jen, Jake got Amber and now Bob got a cute nurse. Oh! I bet even Phoenix has girlfriend, she's not telling us about. When is it my turn?"

"No girl is gonna fall out of the sky and into your lap, Coyote! You gotta find her."

"Mhmm we will see. I just want a nice girl who loves singing, cooking and is okay with being silly every once in a while..like I do."

"Dream girl, huh?"

"Yup."

~~~~~

After a while, Coyote back to his classroom that was also used as a spare office for break time. He stood in front of the door, maybe to open it when he heard a sound as alerts built in his head. He took a breath, ready to talk to whoever was inside with a stern face and pushed the door forward only to be met with a back turned to him.

His eyes were trained on the silhouette, her curves gentle but sharp due to outline of her blue jeans, white kitten heels to match. His gaze lifted to notice a blue-purple pattern was laced onto the short sleeve shirt and her caramel highlighted hair framed the top of her head. He can only see the back of her but once her face whipped around to face, Javy Machado became starstruck.

It was like he was sent back to flight school all over again, seeing the previous gentle smile he would see down the hallways while being partnered up with Hangman on assignments. The room was spinning for him. Her brown eyes and rich skin were the same as he remembered. His heart grew 3 sizes too big by just seeing her and his brown eyes popped out, as goofy lovestruck smile laced his face.

She smiled at him, with a small laughter backing up her sweet candy like energy. She giggled, "Coyote right?"

'She remembers my name?!' Thought Javy as all he can do is nod at her questioned. He only met her maybe twice in flight school and didn't believed that she remembered him at all.

"I'm Sugar." She added, stepping forward to politely shake his hand. The girl smiled brightly at him, taking in his goofy grin and flustered body language as a sign of something good. Of course she remembered the cute loud guy from class, she wasn't interested him back then, but maybe now she is?

Finally he snapped out of it, shaking her hand and Coyote spoke, "Yeah, I know. I mean—ugh! Hi Sugar, nice to meet you..again?"

Sugar laughed, "You remember me? I thought you wouldn't. I was the sweet quiet girl in Flight School."

"Of course I remember you! What are you doing here?"

"I was assigned to teach here soon. Bob Floyd recommend me to come visit North Island and uh, here I am! I was told that I would be your co-teacher?"

Coyote pauses to think, he remember getting an email from Amber saying that there would a few new recruits as teachers and other officials, coming to North Island for work. For no one can be surprised if they randomly see officer, captains, commanders and fellow lieutenants ramming the hallways. "Co-teacher? You're gonna work with me?" He asked, grinning again.

"I-if that's okay with you? I was told, I would be helping everyone." She said with a smile, looking down at her phone that held her notes for today, "If not, my next stop would be Payback or Fanboy."

"No, no I'm more than happy to work with you! It would be an honor to work with a nice pilot like you."

"Alrighty then!"

~~~

Carmen stayed nearby Javy’s side the rest of the day. She can see the difference between the Coyote, she met back then versus the one she sees now. Back then he was a loudmouth idiot who took risks with his flying, now he’s more careful than ever while being a lot less loud. Both two things stayed the same how much a sweetheart and silly he can be. She was a bit shy around people like him but as the years went by, she grew out of her shell.

Believe or not, she shared the same interesting as Coyote. She noticed them as they taught classes today. The two were honest, always willing to listen and even act a bit silly in the skies. At one moment Sugar was flying to get a better scope of the field, she tapped the side of her plane humming ‘Take My Breath Away’ when suddenly she heard it.

“Take my breath away! Watching every motion in this foolish lover's game…” Coyote sang with such goofy passion into his radio, looking over at her every now and then doing barrel rolls in the sky.

“Haunted by the notion somewhere there's a love in flames! Turning and returning to some secret place inside…” She sang back matching his energy perfectly, picking up speedy feeling such calm and happiness in the air.

“Watching in slow motion as you turn my way and say…Take my breath away!”

“My love, take my breath away.”

“My love, take my breath away.”

“My love, take my breath away…”

The two laughed and grinned ever so brightly, flying around and above the very clouds that looked like cotton candy, so close you can touch it. The two flew and discussed tips for teaching. Coyote decided to take a bold move and said, “First one to make it to the landing zone, buys the other the drink?"

Sugar raised an eyebrow and said, "Like a date?"

"Maybe. You want it be a date?"

"I don't mind, d-do you?"

"I'm cool, a date with you would sound nice."

"..okay. Sure, but let's see who wins first!"

"Oh you're on!"

Without a second to spare, Coyote speeded up and flew past Sugar practically leaving a ball, he was determined to win. They didn't call him Coyote for nothing but sure enough, he decided to take a left turn and wait it out. He knew she wouldn't catch up to him, he sat in his cockpit and his eyes almost pinned to the jet. Sugar flew past him with a giggle in her tone, "What happened? Didn't think I can catch up?"

"I-i...how-?!" Coyote said with a huge grin, impressed flying nearby and picking up speed.

"I flew with a few pilots that said if they're cocky, they will wait and you can eventually surprise them."

"I'm cocky?!"

"...maybe?"

"Maybe?!"

"A little.."

"A little?!"

She just giggled and flew down towards the landing zone with Coyote on her tail. It felt like a mini race against time, one thing that our fly pilot had that Sugar didn't, is that he flew with Maverick.

~~~~

So with a swift turn and a flip to the left, Coyote landed first onto the tarmac in ease. He removed his helmet once he was safely out of the cockpit and waited for her. He saw Fanboy appear in the wing holding his own helmet, he had a small smile on his face. "What you smiling at?" Asked Mickey.

"I think I got a new friend." Javy said with a matching smile as his eyebrows bounced.

"Oooh who's the friend?"

"Sugar Lopez."

"Wait, wasn't she in your flight school with Bob?"

"SHE WAS?!"

"You didn't know? She moved down to Lemoore midway though flight school, Bob was her WSO for training."

"How do you know this information and I don't?"

"Bob told me. She recommended her to come here, they weren't just friends, they were flight buddies for a bit. How do you know her?"

"In flight school, she was my crush! Hangman teased me for a bit, after that I moved to a different state for training."

"I was your crush..?" Said the voice of the young Latina they were speaking about, with a slight smirk laced on her lips. She held her helmet and walked over to the boys.

~~~

Coyote froze. And he never freeze. Sugar wasn't supposed to know that little secret, but it was too late. She knew. Fanboy watched his friend and stepped up to the plate. He sticked his hand out politely and smiled, "Hi, I'm Mickey."

"Carmen. Nice to meet you." She said with a smile, shaking the other latino's hand.

"Welcome to Top Gun. I heard you were being recruited to help the main teachers, huh?"

"Yeah, I was trusted in Coyote's care today. I think next week, I'm paired with you."

"Really? We're gonna have some fun together. Speaking of Coyote, he's a nice guy and I'm glad you enjoyed your time with him."

"He is. I liked flying with him and teaching today too."

Coyote perked up and smiled with a slight rose blush on his cheeks. He chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly he was kinda shy about this. He waited for a moment and spoke, "I'm glad you liked flying with me..and hopefully not mad I flew past you?"

"Oh no, that's totally fine! I'm used to it." Sugar smiled and shrugged looking between the boys, "I'm gonna go change. Maybe we can all get drinks letter?"

"It's a date!"

Fanboy smiled, "I'll be there!"

Once she walked away, Javy turned his friend with a thankful look on his face. He was grateful to him with there and couldn't be happier to have Mickey has a friend. "Thank you for saving my ass..." Javy admitted with a chuckle.

"No problem! Lopez is nice and we just scored drinks today." Mickey replied with a soft chuckle.

~~~

Later that afternoon, the sun was going down and everyone was at the Hard Deck drinking and having fun. Since Coyote won, he had to buy everyone the first round of drinks and Sugar offered to buy them all snacks.

Bob and Fanboy introduced Sugar to the gang while Phoenix, Coyote and Hangman talked. Rooster was on the piano with the few of the ladies calling the others over. Everyone was enjoying themselves, dancing and drinking, sharing a few laughs. Coyote sat nearby the pool table as Sugar brought him another beer.

"Thank.." He asked, taking a breath bringing the refreshing drink up to his lips, "You alright?"

"A little tired from work, I usually don't stay after hours with co-workers this long. But you guys seem nice." She said honestly.

"We are nice people, when you get to know us. I can walk you home instead?"

"Nahh, I'll stay here a little long. But I do wanna ask you something...I-it's silly..."

"Shoot."

"I um...Uh wow..was I really your crush?"

"Uh..y-yeah you were. I mean..you still kinda are."

"Why didn't you say anything back then...? Sorry for being so upfront, but I just wanna know..."

"Cause I thought you didn't like me..."

"I liked you, but not in that way...but now I kinda do like you that way..you know what I mean?"

"Y-yeah I know what you mean. But I wouldn't go a date right away or anything!"

"Oh no of course not! I rather take things slow and..get to know you first."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"Me too."

The two smiled and kept talking, getting to slowly know one another. They found out that they shared a love for cooking and music, also how different they were. With Coyote being a morning person and Sugar being a night person. One liked to stay in sometimes while the other liked to go out certain nights. It was cute and they liked the chill and silly vibes that surround them in such a interesting bar setting.

~~~~

-> Thank you for reading! Can't wait to see your reactions and hopefully stick around for more fics in the future.

Tags: @topgun-imagines @gaminggirlsstuff @mandylove1000 @t-nd-rfoot @rooster-84 @morgan108 @ohgodnotagainn @staesthete @starkleila @sherloquestea @happilycameron @bradshawseresinbabe @hanlueluver @msrochelleromanofffelton @gcthvile and the list goe on!

[umnitsa]

As an elder (I feel like an internet elder by now), it makes me sad to see the state of internet now (at least for fandoms). It's so damn toxic, and I see how people use anon to shit on other people...

First fandom I entered, I barely wrote in English (it is my second language - cherished as fuck, tbh, what a beautiful language), and I was so welcome and those people allowed me to learn and develop.

I've read so many awesome stories; and everywhere. Before smartphones my friends would print and bring me fanfic to cheer me up in the hospital when I had a big surgery. These people and these works are gone now, gone from the hobby and the works gone from the internet... I still love them and cherish the time we spent together.

Fandom made me a better writer through quiet joint plotting and loud discussion, and while we discussed, I didn't feel the heavy moralization of our interests that we have now. We shared writing tips and curiously checked each other's fetishes, trying to understand what made them sexy so we could replicate the feelings.

Art (even fanfic, it's art!) is made to explore the human condition, in good and bad ways. And fanfic explores these limits like nothing else. You can experiment with the good in evil and the evil in good. You can explore what ifs and construct new lives for cherished characters. You can play with development arcs and see the plot you wanna see. You can explore intimate moments of these characters, see (and make them) vulnerable.

Fanfic is a transformative art, but not only for the original work. It transforms us too in this process of exposing and hiding ourselves through writing.

I read many things I didn't like or didn't enjoy in my fandom life (that is more than 30years old now). Never once left a scathing critique, or judged a writer for enjoying something.

In the end it's important to consider the facts: fanfic (and in special erotica) is about desire. We all know where it comes from and it comes from a place of unbridled pleasure.

You don't read or watch fiction because you want those things to happen to you. You read and watch fiction to consider your stances and live vicariously through characters, no matter what they go through, good or bad. No matter who they are and what they do.

So I'm sad to see my friends, and writers I love step back. I'm so thankful for reading them, and I understand it can be too much.

(That's why my fanfiction isn't all catalogued, easy to find and browse and I don't look for followers, honestly. I love whoever reads me, I would love some feedback from readers but opening that door may bring assholes in and I'm too old for assholes, tbh *sighs*)

sometimes it feels like this fandom is going to destroy itself. people are so fucking mean, cruel and hateful. it is tumblr. everyone here just wants to be a nerd and enjoy themselves, people need to stop making it so miserable.

[books-and-catears]

Welp, since I’m a regular now; I’mma just park my chair here and spin the idea wheel. And so the idea wheel has decided!

Let’s have the Brothers and Undatables react to MC just barging in unexpectedly while they’re busy doing whatever. Everyone’s just vibing together at Diavolo’s talking about things, playing games, and all dat jazz and suddenly MC comes in with a blank face before they get a sad expression (they’re this close 👌🏾 to having a breakdown, it’s so sad).

MC:....Can I have a hug? 🥺 *says weakly as they were seconds away from crying*

Bby needs comfort! (Let’s just say they recently lost a loved one and they want some affection)

My first ever regular. You have no idea how much I cherish you. Thank you for the funniest and angstiest asks ever. This hits too close to home. I've lost two very close people to disease and suicide in the last few years and the feeling is horrible. So this might end up being a bit self indulgent... apologies.

Please if any of your friends seem not okay, check up on them regularly. Even the adults in your life. And most importantly check up on yourself. Take care okay?

I will do my best to do this justice too. Sorry if it's a little late college and extra classes are a pain sometimes.

It was not news you were prepared to receive. Not that day. It was supposed to be a day of celebration.

Lord Diavolo had announced a small party just for Council and the exchange students. Asmo had taken hours to get you ready. Everyone was excited and in good spirits, clinking their glasses and cheering for a joyous reunion. There was music, dancing and laughter so loud, it felt like it was echoing all across Devildom.

And yet here you were in the bathroom, bent over a sink, staring at yourself in disbelief. You had received horrible news from the human world.

A last message an old friend had left for you.

"Hey MC, thanks for being kind to me. Although we have a long and sweet history, it felt good to reconnect and feel wanted in my last few days. Thanks for the last hug, MC. It was the best one I've ever had."

What kind of bittersweet message was this? What was the point of making them feel wanted if they still left anyway?

No you must keep your composure, you think. The laughter keeps echoing louder. While internal screams creep up your throat. You have to go back before they start worrying about you.

The doors to the ballroom feel heavy as you push through. "Hey look! MC's back! Now we-- MC...?"

You don't know what face you were making, but everyone went quiet. Some looked horrified, some worried and some panicked. You felt your head go dizzy with the pain, tears stinging the corners it your eyes.

Looking directly at one of them, you croaked out the first thing that came into mind.

"C-could I have a hug?"

Lucifer

This man isn't a hugger. But for you he'd make an exception every day.

Especially when you asked for it so desperately.

Walk up to you swiftly, holding the back of your head and pressing it to his chest, while his other arm wraps around you.

"Would you prefer to spend some time in private?" He whispers as you break into soft sobs in his arms and nod.

"Excuse us. We'll be back shortly. Anyone who follows us will face consequences. MC needs some time alone." He calls out to the rest and whisks you away to his room.

Makes you sit in his lap as he cradles you while you cry. Keeps telling you it's not your fault and you tried your best.

Mammon

Someone save this boy, he is a mess himself.

He feels guilty already. He can't stand to see you this way. What couldn't he protect you from??

Aren't you the one who rushes to give people hugs?

He returns the favour. Sprinting towards you and engulfing you instantly in his arms.

He feels your shaky breath as you cling on to him and goes bezerk.

"Oi. I'm taking MC home." It's the most serious he has ever been.

Doesn't hesitate to bring out his wings and fly you home as soon as possible. He cups your face as you cry, his fingers wiping down each tear. His eyes are pained looking at you like this, it wasn't even your fault. You tried till the end didn't you?

Leviathan

This man's protective trigger has been switched. Who dare be the cause of this?

You're his cheery best friend. He simply won't stand to see you like this.

Runs towards you and hugs you as tight as he can, like you've done for him so many times. Embarassment be damned.

You asked for a hug, he will definitely give you one. You grab onto his jacket with trembling fingers and lean into him.

"MC would you like to go home ?" He asks softly, patting your head. You nod softly.

Takes you home as fast as possible, and lays you down in his tub. When start crying violently he starts to tear up alongside you. Losing a friend isn't easy afterall.

Satan

His first instinct was violence. His fist tightening, about to murder whoever did this to you.

But the moment you raised your arms, asking for a hug in that small voice, it was like looking at a helpless kitten in pain.

Another one who sprints towards you to hold you close. His hug feels gentle yet urgent at the same time.

He cupped your cheek, and stared as your eyes grew misty. "Don't worry we're getting out this instant." Slammed the doors behind him as he left. A subtle message to leave them be.

He took you to common room, near the fireplace to warm you up, one of his arms always around you, as you wailed and choked on your tears. He presses kisses on your head too and tells you how kind you were. You did your part. You weren't responsible for someone else's actions.

Asmodeus

He is gasping and tearing up at the sight of you. Oh you poor thing who dare hurt you?!

How could he ever say no to your hugs? Especially now when you needed him most?

He comes at you with such speed that you both almost topple over. He rubs your back and arms trying to calm you down with his touch as he hugs you.

"Would you like to be alone with me MC?" The moment you nod, his wings are out and you're soaring through the air until you find yourself in his bath.

You lean against him and cry your heart out, he holds you from behind, pressing kisses on your head whispering it's okay.

Beelzebub

Baby boy is heartbroken. Why do you look like that? Where are you hurt?

He immediately hates that look on your face. He must do something to fix it immediately.

Runs and lifts you up in his arms and holds you so close to himself, his arms providing endless protection.

"MC will food make it better?" You shake your head so he takes off. He doesn't care about the feast he missed, he just wants you to be okay.

Flies you into his room and gives you plushies to hold onto while he gets you all your favourite food. Will hold you tight as you sob into his chest and will feed you later on cause he knows how exhausting crying can be.

Belphegor

He knows that face. And he knows the pain behind it. And now he's feeling it too.

Who did this? Who dared? Tell him their name and they're gone.

A hug, huh? He's ready to give you much more than that if you ask.

Walks towards you and wraps you up in his jacket and then his arms. His hug is so warm and soft you could fall asleep right there.

"Let's go lie down together." He will take you home and put you down in his bed, bundled up in his blanket, his soft pillow under your head. Pulls you flush against him as you sob and scream into his pillow.

Solomon

He is human. Of course he knows the face of ultimate pain. He's been through it so many times he's made himself immune.

But he wasn't immune to yours. Your ever smiling face - that was what he liked. This irked him, made him restless.

He's next to you in the blink of an eye, wrapping his arms around you, cloak and all, his mouth pressing down on your head.

"Let's take it to the sky shall we? Don't worry I've got you." He says softly. You nod, your fingers grasping at his shirt.

And in mere seconds you are soaring above the clouds, the gentle air cooling your burning heart as you cry into the wind. He holds you close and whispering to make you feel better.

Diavolo

He has seen this face only once before. When Lucifer came to him Lilith dying in his arms.

He saw the look on yours and he was determined to help you however he could. And if it started with a hug so be it.

Takes big strides and hoists you up in his arms, as you wrap your shaking arms around his neck and press your face into his jacket.

"The party is over. MC shall stay with me tonight I'll send them back when they feel better." Gone was his usual cheery tone. He seemed distraught, angry almost.

Took you to his bedroom and laid you down softly, still holding onto you tightly, keeping you from falling apart as you sob into his arms. Takes the next days off to be next to you.

Simeon

His emotions mirror your own. Seeing you in such pain, makes him feel the same.

His heart is breaking seeing you this way. He can't hold you fast enough.

He swiftly runs to hold your hands first. He feels them tremble in his own and he wraps himself around Immediately, cradling your head delicately.

"Let's get you away. You'd like that won't you?" He says running his fingers through your hair. You let you a breathy yes and he's off.

You land in Purgatory hall, curled up into him on the couch, freshly brewed flower tea on the table. He holds you close as you cry into his arms. Tells you that your friend is in a better place because you healed their soul before they left.

Barbatos

You made the usually composed demon crack. Even if for a moment, he felt the need to do something extreme.

What was causing you this much discomfort? He was ready to eliminate it.

A mere hug? Is that what would make you feel better? He is ready to deliver.

He's there before you know it, holding you like delicate royalty. You could crumble at how soft he was for you.

"Would you prefer somwhere more quiet?" He asks. You only need to nod once and he's already sweeping you off your feet and into his chambers. Picks the most calming teas for you as he sits by your side holding your hand.

Luke

He knew the demons were no good. Of course it was a matter of time before MC got hurt again.

He was about to cry looking at you, ready to throw hands at the whoever caused this.

A hug? A hug will help? YES OF COURSE.

He flies straight into, wrapping his little arms around your neck. Like a baby brother comforting a distraught older sibling.

"Come on MC! Let's get away from here!" He says and flies you off to purgatory hall. He brings you to the kitchen and starts whipping up your favourite desserts to cheer you up.

[dameronology]

figure it out {din djarin x reader}

summary: din djarin doesn’t usually get jealous. not until he met you, at least {for the lovely and wonderful @stargazingcarol​} - 2.5k words 

warnings: swearing 

this is completely spoiler free!! just some good old jealousy and some antics with the kid. enjoy.

- jamie

You had a complicated relationship with the Mandalorian. 

On one hand, you were colleagues…of sorts. He’d spent two years coming to your outpost on Corellia when he needed his ship fixing – and after becoming fed up of traipsing back and forth, he offered you the job full time. It was a mutually beneficial situation. You’d been desperate to get out the city for years, and you were also the only mechanic he trusted. The prospect of a job that would take you all over the galaxy was exciting, even if it meant tiptoeing around one another in the cramped hull of the Razor Crest (and that was before the addition of the Child). But, when you spent days and days in hyperspace with nobody else to talk to, it was only natural that you became friends. It had felt a little awkward at first, as though you were trying to force conversation with a man who just didn’t want to talk -- but then the Mandalorian’s barriers broke down, and things began to change.

You couldn’t quite pinpoint when. It had probably been a few months in, not long after he’d saved your ass from a bounty who had thrown a punch in your direction. You hadn’t expected the Mandalorian to be so protective - and frankly, neither had he. It was after that he found himself doing things without realising; lingering touches on your back when he passed, his hands brushing your thigh whenever you were sat in the cockpit next to him. Then, you became unintentional adoptive parents to a weird, green creature - a bond between you that only seemed progressed naturally, as though you had no control over it.

One night, not long after you took the Child in, you’d both collapsed beside one another on the tiny bed in hull of the Crest. Usually, you would argue for a while about who got to take it, but on that night, neither of you’d had the energy. Under the covers of the dark and with the baby finally asleep, you were muttering amongst yourself - you couldn’t remember the conversation entirely, but it was sleepy, tired gibberish. Din found himself reaching to take the helmet off; he could hear you easier that way, and your voice was comforting enough to lull him off to sleep. In the quiet of the moment, and with the conversation between you reaching a natural stopping point, he’d gently closed the gap between you. It was simple; his lips on yours, only for a brief moment. Then, as though the Child had sensed that everything was no longer about him, he’d opened his mouth and let out a cry for attention.

You began to kiss more often after that; every night before bed, actually. As soon as the lights were off, Din would take the helmet off, give you a gentle kiss and then he’d drift off, holding you tightly to his chest. It was always that, followed by a good night, cyar'ika. Then the morning would come, and it would be good morning, cyar'ika followed by another soft kiss, before the helmet went back on and you both went about your days.

After a few months of that, you’d fallen into an easy routine. Neither of you had quite established what your relationship was, but it didn’t feel like you needed to. It’s not like there was anyone else around for you to have to worry about, or anyone else who would force you to define it. But that didn’t mean it wasn’t frustrating; Din Djarin had never been the type of person to plan ahead, and you knew that more than anyone. The idea of becoming attached to him, only to lose him or get hurt was enough for you to at least want to try and work it out. You weren’t expecting a deep conversation, or even one that you could walk away from knowing whatever the hell was going on between you two. 

It was just that with the addition of the Child, and the two of you growing closer each day, you wanted an answer. You wanted to know if you were wasting your time; if this was simply a pit-stop on your way to finding a more permanent settlement, or if this was it. Though you’d never admit it, you wanted it to be the latter. Din was reliable, and he cared about you. He was sweet in his own way and he’d have gone to the ends of the galaxy to look after you. He was protective in a way that let you fight your own battles, but not in a way you’d ever have to do it alone. You felt safe with him - as though you’d found everything you were looking for, except neither of you had been looking at all.

You brought the question up on a slow morning. The Mandalorian was between bounties, and you’d briefly landed in a dusty outpost on a thick jungle planet to refuel and find some food. The kid was snoring away in his pod a few feet away, clearly feeding off of the relaxed atmosphere that you’d managed to create. You were laying beside him, the lights still off and your head buried in his neck. Both of Din’s arms were wrapped tightly around you, gripping onto you as though you might slip away into the darkness of the vast galaxy. 

‘What are we?’ You asked quietly.

‘Humans.’ Right, there was the dry sense of humour.

‘Din.’ You grumbled. ‘I’m serious.’

‘What’s making you bring it up now, cyar'ika?’ He asked. ‘It’s early.’

‘I was just thinking.’ You sat up, pulling the covers with you. ‘We’ve been doing this thing for months but neither of us have actually worked out what the hell is it is.’

‘We don’t have to.’ He replied. 

‘Right.’ You murmured. 

‘It’s just-’

As though the little bugger had sensed a sudden onset of tenseness in the room, the Child let out a loud cry. You immediately recognised it: he was hungry. Even if you were ready to throttle anyone who dared come near him, you didn’t have a hard time admitting that he had a penchant for the worst timing. With that said, the fact he’d slept through the whole night without waking once certainly helped the fact.

‘Hey, buddy! It’s okay!’ You heard the mechanical click of Din’s helmet as he turned on the lights, allowing you to leap out of bed and stumble to the baby. ‘We’ll get you some food.’

That wasn’t the first time that something had magically changed the subject whenever you tried to bring up the status of your relationship with Din. If the kid didn’t decide to pull your attention away, it was the Mandalorian himself who veered away from the conversation. He always had to check on a bounty, or rush off to see if the ship was on the right route. It didn’t take a genius to work out that he was avoiding the subject entirely and you were starting to become frustrated.

After almost three weeks of trying to challenge him about it, you were close to giving in entirely. What if you were wasting your time? What if you were going to let yourself fall in love with him, only to find out you weren’t a permanent part of his plan? Fuck, did he even have a plan? Was that the life you wanted -

- it was at that point that your train of thought had stopped, because the Child sensed you were upset, and started bawling. Again.

A few hours after your fourth or fifth try at the conversation - once again to have it ended by the kid tossing a frog at you in an attempt to steal the attention back - the three of you ended up in a bar. It was a little cantina a few hours outside of Mos Eisley; it was much cleaner than the other bars you’d seen, and if it weren’t for your foul mood, you might have even enjoyed it. 

‘What’s up with you?’ Din asked quietly. 

‘Nothing.’ You murmured. ‘I’m fine.’

‘Your tone is off, cyar'ika.’

‘Leave it.’ You snapped. ‘I’m getting another drink.’

You moved the baby off your lap, placing him on Din’s instead. After digging around in your pocket for some credits, you quickly stood up and sauntered over to the other side of the bar, leaning against the wooden counter as you waited for your turn to be served. It wasn’t too busy - there were a few people floating about. Locals, you figured. It was a slightly fancier part of Tatooine, and you could see the difference in the people who were frequenting the establishment.

You were trying not to think about Din, or the fact he still refused to talk about what was going on between the two of you. You’d long surpassed the point of no return for your friendship - no, you were too invested now. Either he had to prove he was in it for the long run, or you had to walk away. Was that an unfair ultimatum? Not really. He’d started it, after all. 

‘What’s a pretty thing like you doing waiting for a drink?’

You glanced up to see a man beside you, a half-empty flagon of beer in his hand. He was tall, dark and handsome; the type you used to briefly date back on Corellia. He smelt of expensive aftershave, and his clothes gave the impression he was quite well-off. 

‘I could ask you the same.’ You replied. 

‘So you think I’m pretty?’ The man quirked an eyebrow at you.

‘No, I...I mean, yeahhhh.’ You turned to face him, offering him a smile.

‘You’re here with that Mandalorian.’ He glanced over his shoulder, before leaning a little closer towards you. ‘What’s his deal?’

‘Honestly, I couldn’t tell you.’ You snorted. ‘I don’t think he knows what his deal is.’

The conversation was completely innocent - after all, you had no intention of anything happening with whoever this guy was. And even if you did, weren’t you technically single? You certainly weren’t in a relationship, at least not according to Din Djarin. He had no standing ground, nor any right to be jealous. 

Still, that didn’t stop his entire body filling with rage the minute the man put his hand on your arm, and it certainly didn’t stop him immediately packing up all your stuff to leave the bar. Even the notion of another man touching you made him want to scream - let alone the actual sight of it. It was the way your new friend leant in a little too close, and laughed a little too hard at your jokes. You were funny, but you weren’t that funny.

‘We’re leaving.’ Din declared, suddenly appearing beside you. 

‘Okay.’ You shrugged, glancing up at him. ‘I’ll meet you back on the ship later.’

‘No, I mean we’re leaving.’

You snorted. ‘I think you’ll find that I’m staying right here- oof!’

You let out a small squeak as the Mandalorian grabbed you with his free arm, tossing you over his shoulder. Before you could protest, or even apologise to the man beside you, he was marching you out of the bar and into the cool evening air of Tatooine. All meanwhile, the baby was giggling at the site of you with your legs in the air and your face planted against Din’s back. 

The ship wasn’t far - probably not more than a two minute walk. Din had been conscious of the Child’s little legs when he’d parked at the outpost; he was becoming more independent now and insisted on walking places himself. It was just that he could only walk for five minutes before getting tired, but the little sod would cry if you tried to carry him.  He was lucky he was cute.

‘What the hell was that?’ You snapped, barely catching your balance as Din planed you on the floor of the ship. 

‘That man was flirting with you.’ Din simply stated. ‘I didn’t like it.’

‘You...’ you trailed off. ‘You didn’t like it?’

‘He was overstepping his boundaries.’

‘You were jealous, weren’t you?’ You let out a derivative snort, folding your arms across your chest. 

‘You knew I could see you.’ Din was still calm. 

‘And? It’s not like we’re in a relationship, is it?’ You murmured.

‘That’s not-’

‘ - let me finish!’ You cut him off. ‘I have been trying for weeks to talk to you about it, to see where I stand with you, and you always change the subject or try to run away from it! You have no right to be jealous, or to act like I’m with you because you have made it abundantly clear that I am not. Your high horse is basically a shetland fucking pony, Din Djarin!’

There was a silence between you for a moment. It felt good to have finally said it - you just wished you’d been a bit more gentle. Din had never seen you shout before, or even come close to losing your temper. He knew it was bound to happen but he had never imagined it being at him. Then again, if you’d tried to pick him up and force him out the bar against his will, he would have been angry too. (The thought of you even trying it was rather comical).

‘I was scared.’ 

That hadn’t been the response you were expecting.

‘Of me?’ Your voice was quiet.

‘I’m in love with you.’ He said bluntly. ‘That terrifies me.’

‘I...fuck.’ You felt as though the wind had been stolen from your lungs, and replaced with whatever grey smoke the Crest spat out when the engines were broken. ‘I love you too - but why does it scare you?’

‘Because it means I can’t ever leave you.’ Din continued. ‘And I want to give you the life you deserve but I don’t know if I can. Not with my job, not with the things I’ve done.’

‘Din.’ You took a step forward, his large hands enveloping yours as you did. ‘D’you think I care about any of that?’

‘I was afraid to ask.’

‘No offence, but you can be a bit thick sometimes.’ A small chuckle escaped your lips, even if tears were forming in your eyes. ‘I don’t care where we are or where we go, as long as I’m with you, then I have the life I want. That’s why I’ve been so off these last few weeks, because I was so scared you were going to turn around and push me away.’

‘That’s not going to happen.’ He said. ‘I’m not going to leave you - you have my word. I promise.’ 

‘So why don’t we just stop being scared and start just...being together?’

He briefly stepped away, hitting the control panel to turn off the lights in the ship. His helmet hit the ground with a thud, and a moment later, his hands were on your hips as he pulled you towards him. Din crashed his lips onto yours, closing the gap between you with a desperate kiss. You’d kissed before - more times than you could even begin to count - but this one felt different. It had meaning; purpose, in fact. It was as though the last few months’ worth of feelings that the Mandalorian had been pushing aside had finally broken.

‘I love you, cyar'ika.’ He quietly murmured again. ‘And I’m sorry.’

‘Stop saying sorry.’ You tearfully smiled, forehead still pressed against his. ‘And I love you too, even if you’re a bit of a dumbass sometimes.’

‘Say it again.’

‘I love you, dumbass.’ You quietly said. 

‘Is that now your equivalent to cyar'ika?’

[miekasa]

any dad!levi hcs for father’s day today🥺🤲🏽

Absolutely!! I’ll do this I guess using the kids I have for him in my parent au? If you’ve read that, you know about Holden, but there are two more so prepare to meet them :’) happy father’s day to Levi <33

To begin with, you guys would plan to have your kids (to the best of your abilities; you were intentionally trying to have kids at a time when you both knew you were ready for them. 

Although accidents to do happen, and Levi would welcome an unplanned child all the same; that being said, if you’re both want a family, you would have discussed it beforehand (which is to a degree, is a lot about mental preparation for himself). 

In his perfect world, he’d have two daughters. They’d be equal parts him and you, and they’d be quiet and curious and lovely and life would be good. He’d spend his days with you and his two tiny daughters, raising his little family and doing all he could for his favorite girls. 

So, naturally, he does get two daughters, but also a son in between; and the latter two kids are far from easy in their own unique ways lmfao 

You might have already met Holden, and she’s the oldest in my dad Levi au, and the most like him. Levi’s dark hair, his grey eyes, his overall unimpressed visage, his knack for cleanliness and organization—down to the way she holds her sippy cups, she’s damn near Levi’s doppleganger. 

Holden is somewhere between 3.5-4 years old before you have your second kid, and in that time is when Levi confirms he thinks he was cut out to be a certified Girl Dad. 

Both Levi and Holden take quality father-daughter time very seriously. It’s impossible to change plans once they’re set: “Daddy, you promised we would go to the famer’s market on Sunday. You pinky promised.” And Levi wouldn’t dare break a pinky promise, so he makes time for it. 

Levi doesn’t play favorites with his kids, but there is something special about Holden as his first born. He’s constantly in awe of just how much she resembles him. Four years into raising her and it’s still hard to wrap his head around. 

Much to his chagrin, Hange and Eren are Holden’s favorite adults. Maybe Levi understands the admiration for Hange, but Eren... come on, Holden, you’re breaking his heart at that point. 

It’s almost out of character for your daughter to be so openly affectionate about someone outside of your immediate family, but she really loves having Eren as a babysitter; and you know she’s playing favorites, because she remains neutral on Armin, even though he and Eren always babysit as a duo. 

She doesn’t have a favorite grandparent, but Kenny spoils her the most. Levi tells him he shouldn’t, but when has Kenny ever listened to Levi. The man isn’t a fan of kids, but he thinks yours and Levi’s are pretty cool, and Holden is about the coolest 4 year old he could ever meet. 

When she was learning to walk, Levi’s favorite thing was holding her little hand and guiding her around. Even now, when she can stand perfectly fine on her own two feet, Levi loves it when she reaches for his hand; Holden is a pretty independent kid, even at 4 years old, so Levi never takes affection from her for granted. 

They’re best friends and Holden goes everywhere with him. Their favorite father-daughter activity is going to the grocery store, and Levi lets Holden point to and assess her favorite fruits and veggies while she sits happily in the shopping cart. 

Sometimes there are other parents struggling with a kid throwing a temper tantrum. Levi simply clicks his teeth, while Holden shakes her little head. “That’s pretty embarassing, daddy,” she says, looking at the poor parent with an unamused glare that rivals Levi’s. He nods and pushes the cart past the scene, “Tell me about it, kid.” 

Your second kid is a boy, and he looks more like you than Levi, but manages to have Levi’s signature hair color and pout when things aren’t going his way.

He comes as a shock to both you and Levi, because after your ultrasound, you were told you were having another girl. Turns out, they’d accidentally mixed up your files, and you were having a boy instead, which you do not find out until your mid-term check up a few months later. Cue Levi buffering like an old computer. 

Kiaan is welcomed all the same, even tho Levi is still in disbelief; he was mentally preparing to have another daughter on his hands. He puts more pressure on himself with his son; not that he wasn’t trying his best to be a parent to Holden, but any insecurities he might have about being a good come out when your son is born, because Levi has no “man of the house” example to follow from. 

You reassure him that your son will turn out to be just fine, and raising him the way you raised Holden, and would have raised another daughter is perfectly acceptable. Of course Levi rises to the occasion after the initial shock; he’s determined to be the dad to his son that he never had. 

Where Holden is more reserved, Kiaan likes to talk and babble about anything whenever and wherever he can, to whoever is around. It’s not uncommon for you or Levi to find your son completely entertained by telling a story out loud to himself while playing with his toys.

Loves to rope Levi into making his toys interact and have “conversations” with each other, and Kiaan genuinely thinks his dad is hilarious, even if he doesn’t completely understand what he’s saying. It always makes Levi smile to hear Kiaan try and copy the bass and tone of his voice when he’s mocking him. 

Kiaan loves messing with his dad, and Levi’s all talk, so of course he lets him. He’ll be on a Zoom meeting for work, and Kiaan will be sat in his lap, running little toy cars across the desk in front of him, or tugging on Levi’s hair, and Levi just lets him. It makes quite the cute sight, and Hange has definitely taken a few screen recordings. 

That being said, your son is more of a mama’s boy than anything. Kiaan loves messing with Levi, but if you’re in the room, there’s a 95% chance he’ll be on your lap or at your side shadowing whatever you’re doing. 

Kiaan is a universal copycat tho, so whatever you, Levi, or Holden say or do, he tries for himself. This makes him especially susceptible to repeating Levi’s foul language and bad habits than Holden. (“Kiaan, you can’t sleep on the chair, it’s not good for your back.” “But daddy sleeps on the chairs sometimes!” “...Alright kid, you got me there.”) 

He’s a very loving kid with his words, too, always thanking people and proclaiming his love, so he doesn’t exactly have a “favorite” adult or babysitter, but he does get particularly excited when Erwin or Farlan come around. He feels especially tall when Erwin lets him sit on his shoulders, and Farlan always entertains his story-telling. 

He’s a sucker for his grandma though, and gives Kuchel a million kisses whenever she comes around. Does not let go over her for the entire time she’s over at your house, and will sit on her lap throughout dinner. 

The most affectionate child, so where Holden only likes holding hands, Kiaan loves cuddling with you and Levi, and likes to be held whenever possible. Levi spoils him a little too much, and more often than not, if you’re walking outside for more than two hours, Kiaan will end up on Levi’s shoulders or in your arms. 

Your last kid is another girl, and, yeah she’s just a baby no older than a few months, but Levi can’t help but think she’s especially tiny, and he can’t help but to look at her and hold her whenever possible. Your baby girl also leaves Levi a little dumbstruck because she manages to look like a combination of you and his mother. 

As she grows, it becomes apparent that you’ve got another daddy’s girl on your hands. Doesn’t matter if you’re literally breast feeding her, Aria will throw a tantrum if she’s separated from Levi for more than an hour. 

The good news is, her sleep cycle is as irregular as Levi’s, so he’s got someone to keep him company when everyone else has gone to bed for the evening. Unfortunately, this also means Aria naps a lot during the day, which leaves Levi a little bored since Holden is old enough to be in school full-time, and Kiaan is gone for at least a portion of the day. 

So, he would never tell you, but sometimes he wakes Aria up from her naps just a little bit early to spend more time with her (and cure his boredom). Having an infant trying to grab at his hair with her ravioli sized baby fists while he tries to cook lunch certainly makes the task more difficult, but it also adds welcomed color to his day.

You and Levi have to hold Aria constantly when she’s awake or else she’ll cry (although, if you leave her in the arms of her siblings, she does settle down, too); that, or she’ll find her tiny baby hands somewhere they shouldn’t be. Like dipped in a jar of strawberry jam. Or peanut butter. Or both. 

Levi talks to his kids like he would any other adult, so it’s not uncommon to find him brewing tea with a baby strapped to his chest, narrating the steps to good tea-making out loud to her for her to hear. He swears she can understand him, and he attributes Holden and Kiaan’s growing vocabularies, and the early ages at which they started speaking to this. 

Aria will be in her little chest strap thing while Levi’s cooking dinner, and he’ll look down at her like, “Alright, we’re gonna julienne your carrots today. Yesterday we cubed them, but you’ve got grabby hands, so this will give you more room to work with.”

Kiaan loves holding Aria and honestly just being around her, and you and Levi think it’s adorable how he loves to play with her, and how he knows to be gentle with her. He shares a room with her, and loves sharing his bedtime story times, so you or Levi will read them to sleep together. 

Holden isn’t crazy about babies, but she’s a good older sister, and Aria seems to be obsessed with her. She crawls and scoots towards her if given the opportunity, and Holden will always look to you or Levi before attempting to hold or lift her up, as if asking permission. She’ll pat Aria’s head to get her to stop crying, or let her play with her hands. 

Levi thinks one of the best parts about being a dad is seeing the different dynamics and relationships between your kids. Holden isn’t most physically or verbally affectionate, but she’s still compassionate, and Kiaan looks up to her; and Kiaan is the perfect middle ground, knowing when it’s appropriate to bother (affectionate) Holden, and when to give her space, and curiously hovers around his baby sister, too. 

[g0ldengubler]

lunchtime ~ spencer reid

A/N: THIS IS VERY UNEDITED VERY HORRIBLE WRITING! i just wanted to get this out. this is a kink i have but never really talked about it. but i hope u still enjoy! it’s very weird so if you don’t want to read it you don’t have to :)

Category: smut (NSFW18+)

CW: rough sex, riding, doggystyle, special guests listening in

Summary: spencer reid works a lot. he’s an fbi agent, he can’t help but be a workaholic! but when you guys finally get time to yourselves, what happens when it’s risky interrupted?

Word Count: 2078

✨masterlist✨

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

having a boyfriend who works in the FBI isn’t all rainbows and sunshine. Because of his job, Dr.Spencer Reid was always either gone on a case or working on cases at home. he could be doing it in the office, but spencer was a sweet guy and made a middle ground to see his girlfriend more. he was just as passionate about her as he was with his job, calling her every night when he was away, making sure to treat her when he got back or when he was done for the day. he made sure she knew she was important to him, which wasn’t something she ever felt from a guy who was a workaholic.

today was just like every other day. spencer got to do case files at home as there was no case as of then. Y/n tried her best to take care of him while working, as a return of the favor. She made him his favorite waffles that morning and even made him a fresh cup of coffee just the way he likes it-a cup of sugar with coffee to mix. He kissed her on the forehead, convinced that he didn’t deserve her. once he was done he went straight to work. In a way, y/n pretty much worked with him as his personal Penelope Garcia, as he was an old man when it came to computers.

it was lunchtime at this point. y/n walked into his office and stood in the door frame, watching his fingers move down the page in his book as he read. his fingers made her melt, and he knew that. clouds began to form in her head as thoughts of what he could do with this fingers took hold of her. she didn’t even notice he was wanting her attention as he snapped her out of her daydreams with a snap of his fingers.

“Bubs, are you ok?” spencer asked. he was still at his desk, his finger placed at the spot he was at. you looked back at him from his finger, noticing what he was wearing and it wasn’t helping your case at all. while he was wearing his favorite maroon cardigan that he thrifted (still lux though as it was ralph lauren), he also wore a pair of grey sweatpants. clever of him for the moments he had to video chat with people.

you were quickly out of your thoughts yet again as you felt your body move without you knowing before. you walked towards him as he turned his chair to your side. you noticed he was half hard in his pants, as the imprint of himself showed through. you sat on his lap and ran your fingers through your hair, peppering kisses below his ear. he chuckled, thinking you were being cute, but you were just getting started.

“it’s lunchtime bubs.” you whispered as you softly grind against him.

spencer put his hands on your his after guiding your body to straddle him. he guides them as his lips touch yours. “good,” he said in between kisses, gently rubbing circles over your shorts in the place you wanted him most, “i’m starving.”

not only was spencer the sweetest, softest man you’ve ever met, but he was also the sexiest and dirtiest. he was rough like a wild bear but soft as a teddy bear-taking such good care of you after he ruined you to filth. no one would ever believe the things you two have done together in the past year. no one would especially believe what happened today.

as spencer’s about to slide his hand down your shorts, his phone rang. he groan softly under his breath as his right hand left your side to grab his phone. you were a little annoyed at first, but once he put the phone to his ear, an idea popped into your head.

“hey hotch...” he said. you slowly leaned down and went back to the spot below his ear, sucking and nibbling it softly.

this wasn’t something new to the both of you. it was a fun little game you’d play if either of phones rang while you were in the middle of it, seeing how long they could last at acting normal. by now, spencer had got the hang of it and made it easy for him when it was any of his coworkers. today, however, he was almost struggling.

you heard other voices on the phone as well. you could tell by how low they all sounded that it was 3 of the men on his team.

“yeah, i was um...about to have lunch.”

you decided to try and break him a little, sucking a little bit harder.

“can i call y-“ a soft moan left his lips, cutting him off his sentence. his eyes bulged out of his head as his mouth fell open. you quickly coughed in a lower tone to help him out, trying not to laugh.

“yeah, luke i’m fine,” he said, “just stubbed my toe....shut up morgan!”

you giggled softly to yourself, but not softly enough. you heard laughing from his phone and realized you were busted.

“hi boys!” you said, jokingly sounding seductive.

spencer gave you a look that said ‘are you kidding me?’ which made you giggle even more. you hear morgan on the other end say, “aww, did we interrupt your lunch?”

“yeah, you did! we were just about to get started.”

spencer placed the phone back to his ear, taking a deep breath before speaking. “look seriously can we-“

he paused, listening to whoever was talking. slowly, spencer removed the phone from his ear and covered it with his shoulder. he looked unsure of himself, as if he was trying to gather the courage to speak.

“bubs,” he said weakly, “do you um...uh..d-do you want to...have the phone on speaker?”

you thought for a moment. you were always secretly into things like this, but never told spencer because you thought he would find it weird. but seeing him look kind of into it didn’t help the puddle forming in your shorts.

“you don’t have to if you don’t want to. whatever your comfortable with!”

you thought for one more moment before taking his phone out of his hands and putting it on speaker for him, setting it down on his desk. he looks at you confused.

“let’s put on a show for your coworkers, daddy.”

“ooooo coming in with the big guns already!” said Luke.

“y/n does not play.” said Hotch.

Spencer was frozen in his tracks. he couldn’t believe the words coming out of their mouths, let alone what was going on.

“well come on then daddy, give us a show! my popcorn is getting cold.” teased morgan.

spencer rolled his eyes at morgan before his lips attacked yours. you continued your grinding on him, this time he was grinding back. you moaned through the kiss as his hands went back in your shorts, rubbing circles on your clit.

“oh wow, spencer got a girl to moan like that!” said Morgan.

“is he making you feel good, hun?” asked hotch.

“fuck yesssss!” you let out a long moan as spencer moved faster with his motions. he let out a groan and cursed under his breath. you felt his pressed under your thigh and that made you try to hold in how turned on you really were. you held on for dear life on the armrests of his chair as he leaned back a little bit.

“are you getting close, baby girl?” asked morgan.

“yes yes yes fuuuck daddy please let me cum.”

“you wanna cum for me, angel?” asked spencer.

“yes omg please i’m so fucking close!”

“cum for him, princess.” said Luke.

before you could fall down the hill like on a roller coaster, you felt incomplete as he took his fingers out. you let out a little whine, letting the guys know he didn’t let you cum.

“ooooo doctor genius over there didn’t let her cum, how sad.” teased Luke.

“what are you going to do now?” asked Hotch.

“because she’s about to get fucked and really show you how much of slut she truly is. well, MY slut at least.”

spencer took his painfully hard cock out as you moved your shorts to the side. you felt the head enter you and shortly his whole length was slammed deep inside you before you even make a sound. you let out a quiet gasp before a loud moan escaped from your throat.

he let you adjust, but only for a short moment as he quickly began pounding you, holding you from your ass. you were a moaning mess at this point, letting out more dramatic, pornographic ones for the guys.

“fuck he’s really an animal isnt he?” teased Hotch.

“you like being pounded like a dirty slut?” asked Luke.

you moaned out a yes, but it wasn’t enough for them.

“use your words, baby girl.” said Morgan.

“i love being pounded like a dirty slut!”

“tell them who’s slut you are.” spencer growled.

you held onto him from behind his head and pushed his face in between your tits. “i’m you’re slut, spencer,” you moaned, “i’m daddy’s little slut!”

“you’re such a good girl, y/n.” said Hotch.

“fuck daddy can i cum? please let me cum ive been a good girl!”

“what do you think?” spencer asked.

“cum, baby girl.” said morgan

“cum for him, princess.” said Luke.

“cum hard all over his cock, baby.” said Hotch.

you finally came all over his cock, screaming as the pleasure surged through your body. spencer helped you ride out your orgasm and let you catch your breath.

“holy shit” said Luke.

“oh we’re not done yet,” said spencer, “she deserves a reward for doing so well.”

he takes you off his cock and makes you stand up, flipping you around so you were in front of him, your ass sticking out. he quickly put his cock back inside of you and luke and morgan cheered on. he pounds you harder this time, making sure you lose your voice by the time you’re done.

“youre such a dirty slut,” spencer growled, taking a handful of your hair and pulling it, “letting me fuck you over the phone with not just my friends, my coworkers. you like putting on a show for people? you want people to know how much of a fucking slut you are for me?”

your eyes rolled to the back of your head at his words. the pure filth in them almost pushing you off the edge as you squeezed around his cock. even the guys grew silent.

“fuck keep doing that angel, keep squeezing daddy’s cock like tha-shit im close. you want my cum inside you?”

“oh my god yes please, i want to be full of your cum daddy!”

hearing you say those words through him over the edge as you feel him filling you up, hearing him moan your name and cursing under his breath. he stayed inside you for a bit before he caught his breath and left to go get something to clean you up with. when he comes back he looks at you sitting in front of him, watching his cum drip out of you and onto his work chair. he wasn’t even mad about it.

“you did so good, bubs.” he says, walking over and kneeling in front you before cleaning you up.

“you were amazing, baby!” you say. he comes back up and kisses you, and it was hard to break away. but somehow you did after what felt like hours and laughed at yourselves for what you just did. you then remembered they were still on the phone. spencer grabs his phone and faces it towards them.

“well? how was the show?” you asked.

“holy-“

“fuck.” luke cut morgan off.

you had left them speechless before hotch finally spoke up.

“....we will not speak of this at work.”

[mosaicc-brokenn-heartss]

- aesthetic playlists for specific moods -

r e s e t  &  d e t o x for days where you need to clear your head, heart, mind and soul. move on. welcome the growth and treasure the warmest parts of the past. slow down and breathe.

hanging out with myself when you're on your own, in your own space, with your own thoughts and alternating between being okay with that and not.

summer lovin’ how it feels to be in love with someone in the endless days of heat.

to the seaside salt, sand, sea. you and me. the air is easier to breathe here. 

"in love with my future" for manifesting and holding onto hope for the idealised dream of being independent, happy and stable

green fingers 🌿 a playlist for gardening, planting and watering my plants... to help them grow, feel loved and safe.

what if we hold hands and lay in a field of wild flowers? (plural noun): a flower of an uncultivated variety or a flower growing freely without human intervention. // romantic picnic bitch energy - for getting lost in the long grass and making daisy chains. a blanket. a basket. a nice book. wearing a sundress. a warm breeze.

little adventures for all of life's mini adventures: supermarket trips, museums, getting lost in the countryside, taking detours, walking down quiet streets... climbing, exploring, taking it all in.

young, free and in love with your friends you'll never be this young again. you are free to be whoever you need to be. you can explore. you're filled with premature nostalgia for the moments you are currently living. you love the things and people around you with all of your being. 

your eyes meet across the room you've never seen them before and don't know their name but you want to find out every secret they've ever had. you'd spend the rest of the night at their side. the colour of their eyes is your new favourite shade.

sunset songs tunes for when the sun goes down. time to unwind and process the day.

up to the roof let's climb up as high as this city can take us and look down at the world beneath us. let's remember how small we are and find some comfort in it.

the days when the sadness is quiet it's never gone, not really, but some days your heart feels overwhelmingly lighter, you feel at ease with the hurt and it's easier to breathe. you feel back in your body, brought back to life again.

classics that make me feel something songs you can't remember actually learning the lyrics to, that set your soul on fire.

political angst make your voice heard. fight with everything you have. don’t let them stop your power.

you + me in the backseat in the backseat of the car. your soundtrack drowns out anything but your feelings. fire burns inside you.

memory lane walking hand in hand through the past. shattered fragments of your old self are lodged into your palms. reminders of things you tried to forget haunt you. the nostalgia comes in like a fog. 

not me, dissociating staring into space or back at yourself in the mirror. doubting everything you know. wondering how you'll ever have the strength to rejoin the world around you.

under the stars come sit with me. we'll trace constellations in the sky.

we’re driving and your hand is on my knee the wind is in your hair. the streets are empty. the radio is too loud. all you know is that you're in love with the person in the seat beside you. 

stay close to me for the kind of love you hope stays forever. for the kind of love you never want to put down. 

oh no, i’m in love the penny has dropped. you don’t know how to hold it in. everything feels brighter now. 

slow mornings with you warmth seeping through the curtains. knowing you have nowhere to be. before toothpaste. stillness. contentment. being with your person.

the end of the world the sun is rising over the hill for the last time. you don't have enough hands to hold everyone. all of the hate you once had doesn't matter anymore. you cling onto the memories and take a deep breath.

it’s 2am and i’m thinking about the good and bad i should probably sleep.

slow dancing in the kitchen barefoot in the kitchen, swaying with hips pressed together, noses brushing, comforted by each other's laughs, soft singing voices and declarations of happiness at being close to the other person.

goodbye to us you're unsure how or why you got here, but now it's over and you can't stop feeling. your heart aches. your head is heavy. you can't bear to move.

longing for escape take my hand. we’ve been stuck for too long. let's get out of this town. we won't look back.

rainy daze rainy days and mondays always get me down

eiffel for you a paris summer. you drink coffee and eat a pastry at a café on the seine. beautiful women and couples in love stroll by. the air is crisp and sweet.

eternal (adjective: eternal; noun: Eternal): lasting or existing forever; without end.

ethereal goddess shit 🌙 pov: you are an ethereal goddess and everything you touch and embody is magic.

academia forever for memories of university days and cathedral views.

new city, big dreams a place just for you. boxes of your past life surround you. a new life awaiting. your look out at the city. it's been waiting for you.

bookstore full of dust and secrets bibliophile (noun): a person who collects or has a great love of books.

hometown nostalgia you know every street corner. you remember everything and everyone you loved here.

i'd do it all over again a million times over without regret.

sneaking out to meet you at midnight the thrill of climbing out the window, making you way to your secret hiding place and having a person to pour all your romanticism into waiting for you. 

coffee breath you can tell a lot about a person from the way they take their coffee.

let’s drink wine and feel things 🍷 songs for late night wine drunk dancing, tears and feelings. 

touch starved for when you just really need to be touched.

seething for slamming doors and punching walls. when your blood boils. when you need to be alone.

[bubblyhoney]

sarah i have thought of another fic request or like a cute idea i guess! i didn’t have anyone in mind when i thought of it so you can write it for whoever you want honestly :)

okay so the reader is a streamer but streams games like animal crossing, standew valley, etc. then (insert who you’re writing for) says they don’t like that game, but later ends up buying it and the reader is like “i thought you said you didn’t like this game” and they’re like “well i like you” and they confuses their feelings and they end up playing the game together and reader gives them a tour of their island or farm

i feel like this request isn’t good, but the scenario seemed cute and i wanted to share it. sorry if this is confusing or just too specific cuz i know it can be hard to write requests like that! but yeah i hope it gives you inspiration and you like the request <3

new horizons

warnings: language, a Marvel reference (hint: natasha said it about tony), stupid idiots who don’t realize they like each other, use of pet names, Uno rage, Hasan Piker's presence

words: 1473

tags: sapnap x gn!reader

A/N: i’ve been trying to catch up a little on my requests (i’ve only got a couple so i’m not super overwhelmed) but school and outside life has been taking up most of my time so this one took me a while to make! tbh— ive never played animal crossing so i did google some of the game mechanics and i apologize if anything is inaccurate about the game…. but i liked relaxing and writing this cute one so thank you for requesting hails :3

requests/inbox status: open

-

“This game is trash.”

Your head quirks, fingers stopped on the screen. You’re in the process of giving your character a cute new nickname; it’s kind of hard to decide between “awkward dude” and “elderly skater”.

“Excuse me?” Your chat comes alive with emotes and ‘KEKW’s, obviously entertained by you and your almost-more-than-friends-friend.

There’s a story for that later.

Sapnap’s rough laugh comes through your headset and he audibly swallows, the sound of a water bottle dropping onto his desk echoing.

“I’m just saying—it’s boring. It’s like Minecraft but you don’t like… do anything.” The grainy image of his bearded face shifts and you see him pull out his phone.

“It’s— you can’t even compare it to Minecraft! It’s a completely different game system—you actually interact with other people live in the game.” You huff out a dramatic sigh, slumping in your chair with a pout. “Just because you go into this lucid state where all you know is ‘touch block, hit George’ doesn’t mean this game isn’t fun.” (He scoffs at your awful impression of his voice. Your viewers love it.)

“Jeez,” he mumbles, fumbling with the cap of his water bottle. “Touched a nerve there, bud.”

You roll your eyes, getting back to the village in the game.

“Don't ‘bud’ me.”

The call falls comfortably quiet, the sounds of him tapping obsessively on his phone and you clicking away filling the silence. A gentle bedroom-pop YouTube playlist remains in the background, prompting you to hum along and glance at the chat to see a flood of “check twitter” and “Y/N TWITTER!!”.

“What happened on Twitter?” You mumble, confused, and pull the website up on another monitor. Sapnap just makes a curious noise, swinging back and forth in a circle. “Oh my God,” you say to yourself, fingertips brushing your parted lips.

“What?”

“Hasan Piker just followed me and retweeted one of my not even remotely political old tweets. Like from a year ago.”

“That’s— wow. Congrats?” Sapnap’s voice cracks, and his ears flush pink the tiniest bit when you glance at his face on Discord.

“I’m gonna go on record and say that he could get it.” You shake your head in disbelief.

Sapnap falls uncharacteristically non-hyper-verbal, so you look past the frenzied chat and to his screen— wait. He muted and turned his camera off.

“Um,” you start, furiously typing question marks in your private chat. “Where’d you go?” You mute and turn screen share off for your stream, concerned that he might’ve fallen off his chair and broken his neck and needs you to call the ambulance.

The characteristic ding of a twitter notification sounds through your bedroom, and you look at your phone quickly.

“That’s where I went.”

Sapnap Tweeted: “all Y/U stans can choke on my dick”.

“Jesus, Sapnap,” you say, and rapidly refresh to read the replies. This tweet was deleted. “That’s so— that barely makes sense, bro. Why— literally what?”

His snicker floods your ears and you relax in your chair. Crisis: averted. “Don’t fucking— what’s wrong with you?”

“I thought it would be funny,” he offers, shrugging, and fiddles with the straw in his water bottle, smile fading. “And also Hasan pisses me off.”

“Why, ‘cause he wants a piece of this? Jealous?” You think back to your viewers, knowing they’re probably spamming question marks and coming to ludacris conclusions about both of your absences. No offense to them. You remember your stan days very vividly.

“I mean, kinda.” He rubs once at his nose, glancing at the camera (and what feels like you) before taking a sip from his water bottle.

“Wow.” You watch one strand of his hair fall from beneath his hat and brush against his full eyebrows. “I’m uh—I’ll get back to my stream. You coming? Or is it time for a Sapnap-snack?”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” He snorts and leans his chin onto the balance of his arm.

“That means you like to take a little snack break mid-stream and come back approximately nine hours later and you didn’t even eat.”

“You know what— fuck you.” He flicks the camera as you laugh at the look on his face.

The teasing mood is easily kept as you switch games from Animal Crossing to Uno, all the while slamming Sapnap with +4’s and skipping the newly-arrived BadBoyHalo at any chance you can get. It unironically pisses him off and he has to take a Sapnap-snack break midway through (only a fifteen minute break this time, during which you and Bad take a “What Kind of Bread Are You?” quiz). The rest of the night is filled with devious cackles (you), loud and sudden bangs that sound suspiciously like someone hitting their desk in anger (Sap) and the stupid barking of Rat, AKA Lucy (Bad). She’s cute but a menace to the sound quality of Bad’s microphone. You sign off stream around 2 a.m. with various forms of thanks and kisses blown to the camera. It’s been a refreshing night, actually; you’ve been busy organizing a partnership stream all week and all your friends have been busy filming or editing or what-not. Quackity had time for a little Roblox every couple of days, though. He’s got your back.

The next time you see Sapnap is after a two hour stream of him try-harding in Valorant and you finishing responding to an email from your partnership in the VC.

“Okay, I’m back.” You hear him shift in his chair and click a couple more times on his keyboard. You perk up in your chair, closing the email browser you’d been looking at.

“Do you want to play anything else? I’m down for anything.”

“Absolutely not Uno. You can go to hell for giving me 6 cards that one time,” he jabs. You scoff, crossing your arms and leaning back in your chair.

“Okay, the +4 was on me but it’s Bad who gave you the last two. That’s not my fault, sweetie.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he mumbles, trailing off as the clicking of his keyboard stops. “Hey, um—Guess what?”

Your heart beats loud in your ears at the tone of his voice. He sounds nervous; that’s never good.

“I’m scared to guess,” you try, playing with a little Minecraft dog figurine you have on your desk with fidgety fingers. “What?”

“I bought Animal Crossing.”

Silence. You stare at his discord icon blankly, trying to reroute the wires of your brain.

“Tell me you love it.”

“Well… I haven’t actually played it— but you said you liked it, so.”

“So,” you repeat him, ears warming but continuing on. “Is that what you tell all your friends when you buy something they like? That it's because of them?”

He seems to choose his next words carefully, pausing a beat to consider your questions.

“Well, I don’t have a crush on all of my friends.”

“You—what?” You stutter, caught off guard and stumbling. What did he just say? “Don’t tell me you mean you have a crush on me.”

“I’m almost positive I just did.” His discord icon stares right back at you, taunting.

“You know, you’re very casual for someone who just admitted they like-like me.” Your cheeks flush pink and you have to press a hand to your chest to keep your breathing sounding stable.

“Yeah, I’m kind of cool like that,” he offers, a huff of a laugh punctuating his statement. The conversation moves into a lull that you can’t help but know is because of you. He must expect you to say something about it, right?

“You are very cool, Sapnap.” You tilt back in your chair, sucking in a breath to prepare yourself for your next words. “And—Isortakindofhaveacrushonyoutoo.”

He must understand you, for you can hear the grin in his voice when he asks “Really?”

“Y-yeah.” You feel like a preteen again, all shaky and giddy in front of the boy you just asked to a middle school dance.

“Um, alright. What do we do now?”

“I don’t know,” you answer genuinely and swing in a happy little circle in your chair. “We could play Animal Crossing.”

“I’m down.”

You swear you’ve never heard more beautiful words.

He keeps his camera off for most of the time you two play, too focused on creating his island and asking you questions about how to fish to turn it on. He silently flips it on when you help him decorate his lawn, needing to show you in real-time the decorations he has bought and where you think he should put them. He looks cute. I mean, of course he does. He always does.

You tell him goodbye late in the night, eyes saying a little more than just “see you tomorrow”.

You like him. He likes you.

It’s even better when you two have matching gardens.

-

A/N: anybody and everybody (especially my precious hailey) let me know what you think!! :]

[cryptiles]

hi! could i please req a obey me matchup?

im 5'2, she/her, straight i have long black wavy/kinda curly hair, a septum piercing, blue eyes, apart of the itty bitty community lol but i make up for it in ass. im very quiet around new people (i barely speak if idk you and pretty much go mute around large groups of people idk) but once i get comfy around you I'm very sarcastic, and cracking jokes all the time. i really enjoy cooking for people i care about, watching Disney movies with my kids, spending time outdoors and smoking the devils lettuce, well i typically smoke dabs but yk what i mean. i hate soup (it is a sad chunky beverage not a meal okay?) i don't really have an ideal date, as long as im spending time with my loved one i dont care what were doing. what attracts me to someone is if they're funny, loving and make me feel safe oh and my name is ivy

•❅────────✧❅✦❅✧────────❅•

MATCH-UP FOR IVY

— details ; obey me x no stated gender! reader ; match-up based ; obey me m.list ; she/her

— requests are open as of 23/8 —> 11 match-ups left

— a/n : hello hello sorry this took so long 🏃‍♀️ but like same i only drink soup if it’s really fucking good if not it’s a fat no from me 😻 also i fucking love your username.

•❅────────✧❅✦❅✧────────❅•

and for this particular soup hater i match them with … mammon !!

• i have so many ideas okay.

• he would love your septum piercing and would impulsively go get one just to match with you.

• this man would definitely 100% smack your ass in the hallways of the house because he’s like that.

• if you’re uncomfortable with it he’ll stop immediately and start apologising and overthinking everything. [ he’ll be contemplating the meaning of life and may even drop low to pray to whoever is in the celestial realm that you don’t hate him ]

• this man is so god damn funny so its a regular that you guys will be cracking jokes and have many laughing fits.

• and they’re LOUD.

• y’all are shaking , huffing and puffing down the centuries year old house.

• and causing everyone in there headaches but to be honest y’all are comedians so they’ll probably let it slide since they overheard your jokes and had a laugh.

• of course mammon is such a family man , disney moves or any movies or any activity with you and your kids is an absolute must for him.

• he religiously drops everything he’s doing and joins y’all for movie nights.

• oh god everytime you cook for him he melts because you care about him ?? hand in marriage rn.

• he probably finds it lowkey funny that you hate soup and describe it as a sad drink.

• depending on his mood , he may or may not tell beel , if he does … well just run.

• mammon will be laughing at y’all as you try to defend your opinion on soup and beel will be arguing on how its good.

• this man is already clingy as hell since he realised his feelings so spending them with him everyday would be no problem.

• he’s always with you anyways , barging into your room , texting you every second of the day , getting you to go out with him. [ as friends according to him 😒 ]

• he may not express his love through words but through facial expressions , gifts and gestures everyone can tell he loves you so much it genuinely hurts.

• he’s constantly saying things like “ the great mammon will protect you ! “ etc etc and he shows it.

• pulling you close in big crowds and quickly guiding you to a less populated area , starts holding your hand in public [ despite the numerous amount of times he still has a small blush on his face ]

mini scenario !!

“ man that damn photoshoot was tiring as hell ! plus i had to stay back for extra classes , today sucked and i’m drained .. “

mammon complained plopping himself down onto the comforts of the soft couch.

he laid his head on your shoulder , usually he wouldn’t do this but today he was so drained he didn’t have the mental strength to care anymore.

“ you hungry ? “

“ starving … “

“ i could cook for you , your favourite if you want. “

you offered , mammon immediately sat up straight and gave you a raised eyebrow.

“ i don’t see you in the kitchen other than when you’re for kitchen duty. “

“ that’s because you don’t see me cook. i only cook for special people and i’m offering to cook for you now. the deal is on the table for the next minute. “

“ … wait you think i’m … special ?? “

“ yeah is that not what i implied- oh my god please don’t cry. “

“ I’M NOT CRYING ! YOU ARE ! “

“ THEN ARE YOU PISSING THROUGH YOUR EYES ? “

•❅────────✧❅✦❅✧────────❅•

© 2022 cryptiles. please do not repost / translate my work and post it to other social media websites without permission , thank you.

[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.

[smells-like-mettaton]

Rating: T (for inherent neutral ending angst)

Summary: Toriel's old house feels like a mausoleum. She will gladly ignore chisp crumbs and lumpy mattresses for a place that feels more like home.  (Queen Toriel ending fic for Soriel Week 2021.)

Word Count: 5211

XXX

The bedroom was exactly how she left it. Her bed pushed up against the gray wall. A book about snails on the wooden desk. A knit sweater with the embroidered words "Mrs. Mom Lady" in the wardrobe.

Even after all this time, she could barely look at it without her soul splitting in two.

She'd known this wouldn't be easy. She hadn't seen this house in over a century. Still, she wasn't prepared for how Asgore had sealed up her old room like a tomb, a photograph of the day that everything went terribly, horribly wrong.

At least the last child was safe. They should not have had to take a life to save their own, but she doubted Asgore had given them a choice.  Her own soul felt more numb than anything.  To her, Asgore had died a century ago.

What was done, was done. And as usual, she was too late to do anything but sweep up the dust.

She backed through the doorframe, shutting the door with a quiet click. She would have to return eventually, but for now, she yearned for a place with fewer painful memories.

"Hey, Your Majesty." A voice startled her as she attempted to escape the foyer. Luckily it was a voice she would always recognize.

"Hello, old friend." She turned and smiled at the monster leaning against the stair railing.

He was smaller than she expected, with that deep voice. Not that that was a bad thing. As for him being a skeleton, that had been apparent from the abundance of bone puns.

"You know the formality is unnecessary," she told him softly.

"Is it?" He shuffled from foot to slippered foot. 

In all her time of joking with him through the door, she had never expected him to be so cute. 

"Didn't want to assume, old lady."

He winked, and she felt a weight lift from her chest. At least one monster would still treat her like a person, and not like a mythical figure returned to save them.

"Toriel," she introduced herself for the first time. He had to have heard already, but between rushing to the palace, scattering Asgore's dust, comforting their—her people… she hadn't had time to seek out her friend.

He seemed to feel comfortable walking right into her home, though. Did he ever visit Asgore when he was here? Her friend seemed like the type of monster who went wherever he felt like, and Asgore, for all his flaws, had never turned a monster away from his home.

"Sans." He held out a bony hand. "Sans the skeleton."

"Nice to meet you, Sans," she tested out the name and clasped his hand with her paw.

A loud pthbbbbbt echoed through the empty hall. Her eyes widened.

"Wow, Toriel. That's, uh, some way to make an introduction." He winked.

She squinted down at the inflatable object in his hand, the source of the farting noise. Then she pretended to ignore it.

"It certainly is. I was not aware that skeletons were capable of flatulence."

His eyelights gutted for a moment before he burst out laughing.

"Your jokes are even better in person," he said once he composed himself.

His laugh set her soul fluttering. In all their conversations through the door, he'd never laughed like that. Maybe she should have tried fart jokes sooner.

"I am always happy to tickle your funny bone." She smiled, and his face tinged blue.

"Happy to be tickled. But, uh. I guess that's not all I'm here for?"

Her breath caught in her lungs. Of course he would not visit without a reason. 

"I suppose not. Would you like to have a seat?"

"It's nothing that serious," he assured her quickly. "I just thought you'd want an update on the kid."

"You've spoken with them? They are still here?"  She tried to keep the hysteria from her voice.

How could they have taken Asgore’s soul and not returned home?  Had the Barrier proven too powerful?

"No—geez, I'm making this sound worse." He ran a bony palm down his face. "They’re definitely gone.  Papyrus tried to call them nonstop.  Besides that, you know the big stuff. The king's dead."

Her lips drew to a thin line, pulling tight across her fangs.

"I can hardly fault them for that."

"Right." He stuck his hands back in his pockets. "I gotta be honest. The way the kid looked when I last saw them… I don't think they did it."

Her brow furrowed. She was inclined to hope that the child had not chosen violence.  They had been so sweet, so eager to talk and joke with the monsters of the Ruins, so quick to hug her even after she’d fought them.  It was hard to imagine them striking down Asgore.

"But… then what do you think happened?"

Sans shrugged. "Wish I knew. I kept watch best I could, but…"

"I could not expect you to come between them and your king." As much as she wished he could have. She had hardly expected him to agree to watch over the human at all.

“Couldn’t have even if I wanted to.  These bones aren’t as sturdy as they look.  Maybe I shoulda listened to my bro and drank more milk...” He grimaced and glanced away.  “Anyway.  Like I said, I don’t know what happened.  Just.  Be careful, okay?”

“Careful?” She blinked.

“Yeah.  You never know.” His gaze flickered to a potted golden flower on the end table next to the stairs.

“Sans.  If I did not know better, that would sound like a threat.” She crouched down, so she could better meet his eyesockets. “Is there something you are trying to tell me?”

“Man. First I rip one in front of a lady, then I threaten her.  I’m makin’ a great first impression.”  He rocked back and forth on his slippers. “Look. Toriel. I don’t wanna scare you, ‘specially since today must’ve been hard. Real hard.”

His eyelights bored into her irises. She found herself needing to look away.

“It has certainly been… interesting. Moreso than any day since I last saw this place.” She suppressed a shudder.

Change. Her life had been constant for so long.  There would be no more of that, now. Hopefully that would be for the better, but only time would tell.

“Yeah. Being flung away from everything you’re used to… don’t imagine that’s a cakewalk. Don’t want you to worry about freaks hiding in the shadows on top of that.”

Somehow, she felt he made more sense when he was on the other side of a door. Knock-knock jokes had a formula. Just another normalcy she had forfeited, she supposed.

“Please, Sans. If you believe I am in danger, you may say so.”

“Fine. So.” He grinned, and she couldn’t help a snort.

“Alright, I suppose I walked into that one.” She smiled, despite his warning. “Under normal circumstances, I would say I could handle myself. But I must admit you are more updated on the state of the kingdom than I.  Do you have any information that could help?”

“...Not really?” His grin turned sheepish.  “You look like a tough lady. I bet my bones are rattling over nothing.”

“I would still humer-us you.”

He gave her a funny look. “You’re actually taking me seriously?”

“Why would I not? You are my friend.  Perhaps… my only friend, at this point,” she admitted.  It would be foolish to ignore a warning, even if it was based on gut feeling. Or, whatever skeletons had in place of a gut.

“Well.  Uh.  If someone, something, was behind the king’s… yeah. If it wasn’t the kid, whoever else it was might still be around. So.” He coughed. “Sounds stupid when I say it like that, huh.”

“It does not.  I think it is sweet that you are worried.” He wouldn’t be able to see her blush, thankfully. It had been a long time since anyone had looked out for her.

“Geez, Toriel.” He rubbed the back of his skull. “You’re gonna ruin my reputation.”

“What reputation? Are you typically a monster with a heart of bone?” she teased.

“Nah. I just don’t worry. Too much work.”  It was difficult to tell if he was joking.  “Guess I can make an exception this once, though.”

“Why, thank you, my friend.”  She had the sudden urge to reach out and squeeze his hand.  It would be more for her own comfort than his, so she did not act on it. “To be honest, your words are a relief. I do not mind the excuse to avoid this place.”

“Oh.” He sounded surprised. “You got somewhere else you’d rather be?”

She both did, and did not. How could she explain without sounding like a clinging child?

...Perhaps that was the wrong metaphor. She would have preferred her children to be a little clingier.

“‘Cause, uh, if you don’t mind a bit of mess… my door’s always open.”

She blinked at the offer. Had he felt the thoughts stirring in her soul?

She didn’t want to be alone. Not again. And she had told him the truth: there were unlikely to be any other monsters she knew still around. Perhaps Gerson; she and Asgore had always joked that he would outlive them.

That joke seemed awfully morbid now.

“Sorry. Was that too forward? Our friendship’s built off closed doors; guess we should just take 'em one at a—"

"No," she interjected too forcefully. “No. I would love to visit your home.”

Though she had never set foot there, she already suspected it would feel more like a home than this place.

“You really—? Great.” His skull tinged the faintest blue. “Just, uh, know that it’s nothing fancy.”

Toriel smiled. “‘Nothing fancy’ sounds wonderful at the moment.”

Perhaps wherever he lived would be out of the way enough that news of her return would be delayed. If she could be lucky enough to pass for an ordinary monster… well, that was likely too much to wish for. It certainly wasn’t becoming of a queen to hide from her subjects.

Stars, there was so much to get used to. So many formalities to reacquaint herself with.  She hoped such things would wait until tomorrow.

Sans returned her smile.

“In that case, I know a shortcut.”

XXX

She handled the shortcut well for a first-timer. No stumbling on the other end, no complaints of nausea or dizziness. Of course, she was a Queen. A Boss Monster. Why would a magic trick ruin her composure?

Sans wanted to laugh. All this time, he'd been joking with the Queen. She didn't seem to mind, but she could just be “humerus”ing him.

...Nah. She had every excuse to ignore him if she really wanted to. Instead she'd actually taken him up on his offer.

He almost forgot to drop her hand once their feet landed in the soft snow. Heh. Who was he kidding? It was just nice to feel her fur under his fingers. To touch her, and know that she was real.

"Oh!" Her eyes lit up, reflecting the gyftmas lights strung haphazardly around the house's columns. "I remember this place!"

"You do?" Sans's browbone furrowed.

"I saw it while travelling from the Ruins to…" she trailed off.  To stop the kid from fighting Asgore.

Sans felt stupid for not trying to stop them himself.  Not that a kid that determined would’ve listened, anyway.  Still… he’d believed in them.  Hoped that by some miracle, they’d get ‘em out of this mess.

Heh. That was too much pressure to put on a kid, even a determined one.

"Yeah." He coughed quietly. "Guess we're hard to miss. Papyrus did something to the Gyftmas lights—even when the CORE lights go out for the night, ours stay on. Never figured out how he pulled that off."

Toriel laughed before seeming to realize something.

"I will get to meet your brother!" She clasped her hands together. "I wish it had not come about for such an unhappy reason, but I am excited nonetheless."

He chuckled. Her excitement was contagious. That was something she and Papyrus had in common already.

He pushed the door open, called out for his brother—and noticed the monster sprawled out on his couch.

"Oh." Sans blinked at Undyne, who was snoring so loudly, he should've heard it from outside. Guess he'd been a little distracted. "Uh. This is awkward."

"What is it?" Toriel hung back, her head ducking through the doorframe. "Is your brother sleeping? I would not wish to wake him. You said he rarely sleeps, did you not?"

"Nah, it's not him. Forgot his pal's house burned down. Actually, I'm sure you met her. Undyne? Captain of the Royal Guard?"

"I… yes, we met." Toriel edged inside, closing the door behind her with a soft click. "She looks far more peaceful now than she did this morning. From what I understand, my ex-husband was something of a father to her."

"Something like that." Sans nodded in agreement. There hadn't even been a Royal Guard until Asgore created the position for her. Sans wondered if Toriel would keep it around now that Asgore was gone.

Welp. It wouldn't hurt, what with his suspicions about Papyrus's friend "Flowery." 

(Maybe Sans should let Toriel sleep on the top floor rather than the couch anyway. No dirt for stray flowers to get into up there.)

"Should we be staring?" Toriel said with a soft chuckle.

Sans shook his thoughts away. "Sorry. Just thinking. I, uh…"

There wasn't room on the top floor. Sans's lumpy, crumb-dusted mattress was out of the question. That left only Papyrus's bed, which while rarely in use, had too much sentimental value to give to Toriel without asking. Where was Papyrus, anyway?

"Undyne!" His brother practically kicked in the door. "I have returned with nutritious—oh!"

Papyrus's sockets blinked at Toriel. Then at Sans. Then at Toriel again.

(Undyne let out another loud snore.)

"Sans?”  Papyrus dropped his groceries on the table next to the pet rock. “Why didn't you tell me we had another guest??"  

Because he was an idiot who hadn't planned past one impulsive offer. His face went a little blue.

"I guest you would figure it out," he managed to joke. 

Toriel let out a bleating laugh at that. The suddenness of it was enough to jolt Undyne awake.

"NGAHH!!" She tried to leap off the couch, but ended up rolling onto the floor. "I'm here, Asgore! I won't—oh."

Her single eye blinked up at Toriel. 

"Papyrus?" Undyne hissed through her teeth. "Why didn't you tell me the Queen was coming??"

"Because I didn't know!" Papyrus replied brightly. 

"I, uh, promise I'm usually more professional than this." Undyne summoned an energy spear and used it to push herself to her feet. The attack left a small char mark on the carpet. "I am at your service, Your Majesty."

Sans thought she looked real professional in a pair of Papyrus's MTT-brand crop top pajamas. Toriel didn't comment on that though, instead opting for a matronly smile.

"There is no need for that, Captain. I am not here on business, but as a friend."

That smile turned towards Sans, and he fought back a blush.

"Yeah. I was just gonna, uh, make some dinner. Y'know, welcome our queen back with some Snowdin hospitality."

"Dinner?" Papyrus squinted suspiciously. "You don't cook dinner. I cook dinner."

"First time for everything, right?" Sans winked to hide his embarrassment. 

Of course Papyrus wouldn't buy his excuse. But he really didn't want his brother and Undyne worrying on top of Toriel. Granted, it was Undyne's job to worry about security threats… but she'd tear up the house's foundation if she thought an enemy might be hiding anywhere in a five-mile radius. 

"Sans," Toriel chided him. "You do not owe me that."

"Wowie! You must be a great influence on him, Bald Asgore!"

Toriel blinked before bursting out laughing. Sans's grin widened. 

"Her name is Toriel, bro."

"Of course!! Where are my manners?" Papyrus bustled past him to shake Toriel's paws. "I am the Great Papyrus! It's an honor to meet you, Queen Toriel!"

"The honor is mine. Sans has told me so much about you," she said, and Papyrus blushed pink.

"You? Know the new queen?" Undyne whispered to Sans while Papyrus and Toriel got acquainted.

"You know me. I know everyone." He winked.

"She came out of nowhere."

"Yeah. My bro and I know what that's like."

Undyne huffed, but Sans didn't offer a more thorough explanation.

Papyrus's affronted shout signalled that Toriel had dropped her first pun.

"I take it back! This is the worst day of my life!!" 

Sans met Toriel's eyes, and they both laughed.

"I suppose I will have to help Sans in the kitchen as my pun-ishment," she said with a coy wink.

"Normally I would object to a guest cooking, but in this case I will make an exception!" Papyrus turned on his heel and grabbed Undyne's arm. "We will clean up the living room in the meantime! Try not to corrupt the queen any further, Sans!!"

"Wouldn't dream of it, bro."

He gave a quick wink to Toriel behind Papyrus's back, and they moved to the kitchen.

"Did I actually upset him…?" She asked once they were out of earshot.

"Nah. He's just dramatic like that. He'll drop three puns per sentence when he thinks I'm not listening."

He turned away, rummaging through the fridge for something edible they could cook.  Discreetly, he tucked his empty chisp bag behind Papyrus’s spaghetti-filled tupperware.

“Oh, good.  I would not want to make a bad first impression.”

“Pfft. You’d have to try real hard to do that, Tori.  My bro sees the best in everyone.”  He smiled and pulled a “pupperoni” pizza out of the freezer.  It wasn’t anything fancy, but at least it would be edible.

He turned around, pizza in hand, and found Toriel staring at him oddly.

“What?”  His sockets widened.  “Uh, you’re not vegetarian, are you?”

She shook her head quickly, her gaze skimming off of his like oil from water.

“Pizza sounds lovely.  It has been quite some time since I had one.”

Sans didn’t pry, but he couldn’t help wondering what her expression had meant.  Had he said something weird?

...Oh.  He’d called her Tori, hadn’t he?  He should know better than to use nicknames without asking.  Papyrus hated them.

“Please, allow me.”  She held out her paws, so she couldn’t be too upset.

He handed over the pizza, and he jumped when fire flared to life in her palms.  For a moment he thought the fire would scorch the pizza beyond recognition, but the flames were just pleasantly warm.  He’d never known a monster other than Grillby to have such careful control of fire magic.

“Heh.  I didn’t know you were so hot, Toriel.”

As soon as he said it, he clamped his jaw shut.  Geez, how stupid could he be?  Making bad jokes was one thing, but flirting with bad jokes?

The fire went out.  She looked up abruptly—er, looked away from the pizza.  He was still a good two feet shorter than her.

“Tori was fine,” she said, her voice soft.

“Uh,” he replied intelligently. 

She suppressed a giggle, and he was pretty sure his face burned hotter than her fire had.  He could stand to take notes from Alphys and throw himself in the trash.

“Or not.  Whatever is comfortable for you,” she reassured him.  “Now, should we eat dinner before it gets cold?”

Eating was hardly something he could screw up at.

“Sure,” then after a pause, he tested, “Tori.”

Forget her fire magic.  Her smile could’ve heated the pizza all on its own.

XXX

For once in a hundred years, dinner was a warm and energetic affair.  In addition to the pizza, Papyrus had tossed together a salad from his fresh groceries, and Sans had briefly stepped out to grab a few orders of wings and fries.  In the end there was plenty of food for four hungry monsters.

Papyrus apologized for the lack of seating, but Toriel didn’t mind sitting on the couch squeezed between Sans and Undyne, eating off of paper plates.  She couldn’t imagine anywhere she would have felt more comfortable.

Before long, though, the day’s fatigue caught up with her.  She supposed it was to be expected—she wouldn’t regain her social stamina all at once.  

Sans caught her eye, and he nodded towards the stairs as Undyne and Papyrus “owned” each other in an MTT-Brand fighting game.

“Sorry.  I know they can be a bit much.” Sans rubbed the back of his skull.  

“They’re lovely.  I wish I had the energy to keep up with them.”  She smiled.

He leaned against the banister, smiling down at them.  Papyrus had gotten the upper hand this time, and was punching the air with joy.

“Me too,” Sans said, still looking away.  “I was thinking.  If you want a place to rest for the night, my bed’s open.”

She blinked.  Her face seemed to catch fire.  That was rather more… forward than she was expecting.  Sure, she had enjoyed his lighthearted flirting, and much as she tried to deny it, feelings had been growing in her for a long time.  But to have him return those feelings? And so boldly? It was as unfathomable as it was unlikely.

“I can get ya some fresh sheets, and I’ll crash in the shed.  My bro set up an, uh, guest room there when the human was in town.”

Oh.  She rubbed the heat from her face while he wasn’t looking.  How foolish could she be, to think he would be implying…? Well.

“I would not force you out of your room,” she said.  “If your brother prepared a guest room, I am sure that would be adequate.”

He let out a quick laugh.  “Uh, you’re not used to my brother’s… decorating.  Seriously, I don’t mind.”

She sighed.  If he insisted, she supposed it would be rude to deny his hospitality.

“Alright.  Thank you very much, Sans.”

“Great.”  He smiled back at her, then went into his brother’s room.  She waited patiently, and only jumped a little when he suddenly reappeared from the right hand door.  Perhaps the two rooms were connected in the back by a bathroom.

“Hotel Sans, one vacancy.”  He winked while holding the door open.

She chuckled behind her hand.  “You really did not have to resort to this.”

“Heh, I wouldn’t call it much of a resort.  The bed’s not even queen sized.”  He rubbed the back of his skull.

The bed was smaller than she was used to, but it did have fresh sheets.  That was the only fresh thing about the room.  Chisp crumbs had been brushed under the dresser, and… that was a tornado.  A self-sustaining trash tornado.  Though at least there was a pine-scented air freshener suspended in it.

“Sorry, it’s… really not much.  Uh.  Probably kinda insulting, expecting the Queen to sleep—”

“It’s perfect.”

He blinked.  “Huh?” 

“I am no stranger to a few crumbs, Sans.”

She remembered days that bled into weeks that bled into months.  Months where she couldn’t bring herself to clean, could hardly bring herself to care at all.  Months that had grown fewer and farther between since she’d met a friendly voice behind a door.

“I would’ve vacuumed,” he said sheepishly, “but I suck at it.”

More embarrassingly loud laughter burst from her.  In front of Sans, though, she didn’t feel the need to curtail her joy.

“Thank you.” She poured as much sincerity as she could into her voice.  

“‘S no problem, Tori.”  A light blue tinge warmed his cheekbones.  How could he possibly look so adorable? “Bathroom’s down the hall if you wanna wash up or anything.  And Undyne’ll be on the couch, so this is probably the safest place in the Underground right now.”

Her brow furrowed.  Sure enough, there was no bathroom door inside the room—he must have used one of his “shortcuts” to move from his brother’s room to here.

“So, uh.  I’ll be in the shed—uh, guest room if you need me.”  He flashed one more tense grin before turning to leave.

“Wait.” She stepped towards him without thinking.  

He looked up, one brow ridge raised.  She found herself biting her lip, wondering if she dared ask what her soul wanted.  It was silly, really.  She’d been on her own for years, decades.

Maybe that was why she was so hesitant to lose this one taste of companionship.

“I would feel… safer, if you would stay too.”  Her face burned beneath her fur, but she projected her usual composure.

“...Welp. Can’t say no to that, huh?”

She was about to reassure him that he could say no—that she was asking as his friend, not as his queen—but the soft smile on his face told her he already knew.  

He briefly left to grab a few things, then returned with a few pillows and, for some reason, a dog bed.

“You are not going to sleep on that,” she said in disbelief.

He flopped the dog bed in the middle of the floor and started fluffing it.  “Why not?  Gotta throw a dog bed a bone, right?”

“Sans.”  

The outdoor lights dimmed, as if at her command.  Only the colored Gyftmas lights outside and one dim indoor bulb lit the room.

Her confidence waned with the light.  What had she expected him to do?  She’d asked him to stay.  Unless she wanted to…

Oh, to hell with it.  She was too old to be so shy about these things.

“If you are not opposed,” she swallowed, “we could… share this mattress.”

When he looked up, she couldn’t make out his eyelights at all.  Their glow returned slowly, like the rising of the sun from her memories.

“Heh… you sure?  You don’t even know if I snore.”

She laughed and sat on the bed, patting the space beside her.  “You do not know if I snore, either.”

“Fair enough, Tori.”

They took turns cleaning up in the bathroom—she was imposing on Sans enough without adding the smell of dirty fur to his bed.  Then she did her best to ignore the flutterings in her soul as he slipped off his hoodie and climbed up onto the mattress.  She insisted he stay under the sheets; her fur would keep her warm enough with just the light blanket on top.  

The sheets were a barrier in name only.  There was only so much space on the mattress, so no matter how he adjusted and apologized, she could still feel the curve of his spine against hers.

It felt amazing.  It felt terrifying.  It felt like a mistake.  It felt like the only thing she’d ever done right.

The one saving grace of the whole situation was that it didn’t stir memories of Asgore.  Her royal beds had been triple the size of Sans’s lumpy mattress. She and her ex-husband had rarely slept back to back, and if they had, the feeling would have much different.

“...Tori?” Sans’s voice was just above a whisper.  “You, uh, still awake?”

As if she could sleep while enduring the wonderful agony of friendly touch for the first time in a century.

“Yes,” she replied softly.  “Am I taking up too much space?”

“No, ‘course not. I was just, uh… geez.” He sounded embarrassed.

Risking their precarious balance, she rolled over to face him.  Or to face the back of his skull, at least.

“Are you alright?” she asked.

“Doin’ sans-sational.” He chuckled to himself.  “Sorry.  Never got to use that one with you before.”

She would have laughed, had she not worried about shaking the whole mattress.

“It was sans-tastic,” she joked back, and he laughed again.

Then abruptly, his laughter cut off.

“Thanks, Tori,” he said in a quiet but firm voice.

“What for?” She wished she could take his hand, see his face, learn what thoughts were passing through his skull.  Instead she gave him as much space as physically possible… which still was not much.

A long, silent moment passed.  Had he fallen asleep?

“I know it’s not how you wanted,” he finally said, “but I’m glad I got to meet you.  So.  Thanks.”

Warmth spread outward from her soul to fill her whole body.  Sans could probably feel it radiating from her.

“Thank you, Sans.  If I had to return, knowing no one…”

He rolled to face her.  His eyelights were mere inches from her pupils.

“You would’ve been fine.  All you had to do was tell a few of your amazing jokes, and the whole Underground would’ve been linin’ up to be your pals.”

She suppressed a laugh.  “I hardly think that would be appropriate, under the circumstances.”

“Eh.”  He shrugged.  “Plenty of monsters in town cope with jokes.  You’d just be relating to the common folk.”

She stared into his sockets a little too intently.  At this distance, it easily made her dizzy.

“Would you be included in that demographic?” she couldn’t help asking.

“When I first met you?  For sure.” His gaze darted away.  “But it’s crazy.  Between you and the kid… I’m startin’ to think there’s more to life than good food and bad laughs.”

“Really?”  She and the child had made such an impact on him?

“I know.  Don’t tell Papyrus.  He wouldn’t believe you, anyway.” He winked.

“My lips are sealed.” She smiled.

Silence hung between them.  It should have felt awkward, but she couldn’t bring herself to turn away.  In the end it was Sans who yawned in her face and then hurriedly flipped back onto his other side.

She laughed, and clearly she was exhausted too, because she pressed a kiss to the back of his skull without thinking.

He froze.  She froze.  There was no way to play that off gracefully.  And there was no way she could fall asleep and pretend that it had not happened.

“Heh… those didn’t feel very sealed to me,” he finally rasped out.

It took her a moment to process what he meant.  Meanwhile her embarrassment only burned hotter.

“I am so sorry—”

“I’m not.” When he rolled back to face her, his face was bright blue.  “You’ll still be here when I wake up, right?”

His question was tinged with desperation.

“Of course,” she answered automatically, despite the many responsibilities that she would have to attend to in the morning.  She was the Queen once more.  If she had to, she could adjust the schedule of meetings and speeches to accommodate… this.

Whatever this was to be.

“Remind me in the morning,” he squeezed her hand, “that this is real.”

His hand quickly went limp.  She was worried for a moment, before she heard the faint snore escape his nasal cavity.

She gave him a fond smile, and allowed her own eyes to close.  She did not know if sleep would come or not.  She did not know what challenges the new day would bring, or what old challenges would continue to rear their heads.

But she did know that she was not alone.  For tonight, that was enough.

[bxcketbarnes]

Off to War

Pairing: 40's!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Words: 3000+

Author's Note: I finally got an idea for 40's Bucky and I'm so happy with how this came out. This man is plaguing my brain and I'm so okay with it. I hope you guys enjoy and let me know what you think. 🥰

"I wish you didn't have to leave," you whisper to the tall brunette, your eyes glued to Bucky's hand that's resting on your lap.

Bucky hums in response and grabs your hand, lacing your fingers together before gently squeezing. "I wish I didn't have to leave either. I never wanted this life," he mumbles and you frown as your thumb gently strokes the back of his hand. "I mean, what are you and Steve going to do without me? I won't be here to protect you."

Your heart flutters at his words, always loving the caring side of him. A side only you and Steve knew about. Bucky's a bit of a player, always has been since he was in high school. He's the most gorgeous man you've ever seen, and you happen to be hopelessly in love with him.

"Steve and I can try to take care of ourselves. My older brother has been teaching me how to defend myself. I've got some skill now," you wink and earn a chuckle from the twenty-six-year-old.

"Yeah, but the thing is you shouldn't have to. You're a woman for God's sake. No man should be treating you the way you've been treated," Bucky argues and you nod your head slightly, agreeing with him. "If I could take you with me, I would. I'd keep you safe, doll."

Your cheeks flush at the compliments pouring from his lips, looking away from the brunette. "Bucky…" you trail off and your eyes meet his blue ones, seeing an emotion you've hardly seen in them before.

"Can I just-" he cuts himself off to lean in closer, feeling his nose brush against yours. "Just this once."

You clear your throat as Bucky moves his hand down your sides and rests on your hips. Your eyes flutter shut as you feel his lips grazing against yours, your breath catching in your throat. "Kiss me," you whisper and Bucky immediately captures your lips with his.

You're wrapping your arms around his neck, running your hands through his hair as you kiss him back feverishly. Butterflies swirl around your stomach as Bucky pushes you back, laying you against the cushions of your couch.

He hovers over you as his fingertips graze along the length of your neck. Bucky pulls away from you, both of you breathing heavily as your faces are still close. "Now, I definitely don't want to leave," Bucky sighs while resting his forehead against yours.

Your heart pounds against your chest and hums in reply, combing your fingers through his hair. "That's- Jesus," you stumble over your words, causing your best friend to laugh.

"Cat got your tongue, doll?" He smirks and you roll your eyes playfully as Bucky sits back up.

Before you can say anything your front door opens, both of you glancing towards it to see Steve walking into the place. His blue eyes dance between you and Bucky, an inquisitive look on his face.

"Everything okay?" Steve asks while moving to sit in one of the recliners. You and Bucky nod your head simultaneously, eyes glancing at one another's for a quick second.

"Yeah, just gonna miss you guys," Bucky states as his hand squeezes yours.

-

You couldn't believe the Peggy Carter wants to recruit you for her medic team. You've heard a lot about her through your letters from Steve and from various people you've talked to on the streets of Brooklyn.

One thing you wish is for Bucky to send you something… literally anything. You haven't heard from him in months and you're not going to lie- you're worried about him.

So, here you are, on the frontlines in Germany. You're nervous about being this close to the war, but you'd do almost anything to help your country out. Plus, Peggy mentioned that Steve's going to be here as well.

You jump at the sound of gunfire in the distance, releasing a deep breath as Peggy leads you towards the tent you'll be staying in. "Nervous, Miss L/N?" She asks you and you let out a small chuckle.

"Is it obvious?" You laugh while running a hand through your hair.

Peggy gives you a soft smile and lays a hand on your shoulder. "Don't fret. This is one of the safest camps along the frontlines," she reassures you and you nod your head in response. "So, have you known Steve for long?"

"Oh, since middle school. It's where I met both him and Bucky," you inform her with a smile and her face falls a bit. You notice the look on her face and furrow your eyebrows. "What is it?"

"You should probably know about James," she uses his first name and your heart drops. You swallow the lump in your throat as you nod your head for her to continue. "He was captured by the Nazis about a month ago."

All the air leaves your body, leaving you gasping for breath at the news. You place a hand on her shoulder to keep your body from collapsing. "D-Does Steve know?" You ask in a whisper and Peggy nods in reply. "Is he here now?"

"Yeah, I'll tell him where to find you," she mentions while leading you into the tent you're staying in. Once Peggy leaves your tent you break down, falling to your knees as tears pool in your eyes.

The memory of yours and Bucky's kiss flash through your mind, your heart clenching at the thought of him dead. Your lip trembles and you fully sit on the ground, leaning against your cot before hugging your knees.

He could still be alive… right? You think to yourself as a quiet knock is heard right outside your tent. "Y/N?" Steve's voice softly calls out and you pick your head up.

"Come in," you whisper loud enough for him to hear. A short gasp leaves your lips as Steve walks into your tent. "Steve?"

A chuckle leaves his lips and the blonde nods his head. "It's me, Y/N," he grins and you slowly stand up. "You must have been living under a rock. I've been like this for a few months."

"Wh-What happened? How?" You ask in astonishment while walking closer to him.

You suddenly wrap your arms around his waist, your heart heavy as you can feel the tears coming back. "Super soldier serum. I was the test subject. You knew how much I wanted to help," he explains and you nod your head. "Listen, about Bucky-"

"Is he alive?" You ask, cutting him off and Steve sighs. You rest your forehead against his chest as sobs escape your lips, the image of seeing his dead body plaguing your mind. "I-I never got to tell him about my feelings."

Steve's brows furrow together and rest his hands on your shoulders, pushing you back a bit. "What feelings?" He questions and you sigh while wiping the tears from your face.

"I'm in love with James Buchanan Barnes," you tell him and his blue eyes widen, shock written across his face.

"Since when?!" Steve asks and you let out a chuckle, scratching the back of your neck.

"Probably since high school," you inform him and you're amused that Steve never figured it out, especially since he was around you a lot. You move to sit on your cot, inviting him to sit next to you and he does. "You know the night before Bucky left?"

Steve nods his head, resting his hands on his thighs. "Yeah, you and Bucky were acting strange when I finally made it to your place…" he trails off and you snort, giving him a look. "No way. You two did something?"

A laugh leaves your lips as you lean your chin against the palm of your hand, sighing heavily. "To be fair, we only kissed," you explain to him, gazing at the super-soldier for a few seconds, "but, it was the best kiss I've ever had."

Steve rests a hand on your upper back, rubbing gently. "I'm going to find him. I'm taking our men out tomorrow to find him and everyone else they captured. I'm bringing him home," he tells you, and your eyes well up with tears, nodding your head to what he's saying.

-

"Medic! We've got wounded," someone shouts and your head snaps up before scurrying out of your cot.

You throw on your medic jacket and rush out of your tent, running straight to the med-tent. "Where are they?" You ask one of the other nurses, seeing the empty spaces in front of you.

"Guys from the 107th are bringing them in now," she informs you and you nod your head.

The flap of your tent opens up and about nine people hobble their way inside. You order the men holding them up to place the wounded on the cots as you start examining the one closest to you.

It doesn't take you long to patch the men up and thankfully there's not that much damage on them either. They all thank you and you grin to yourself, absorbing the validation. "Just doing my part," you tell them while patting the shoulder of the last man you attend to.

Steve walks into the tent and your eyes dance towards him. "There's something you need to see," he mumbles, and your heart pounds against your chest.

"I can't if he's…" you trail off and Steve shakes his head. A smile comes to the blonde's lips and you let out a small sob, stumbling towards him. "He's- he's alive?!"

"C'mon," he motions for you to follow and you glance towards the nurse, a pleading look in your eyes.

The brunette laughs and nods her head. "Go see whoever it is you need to see," she grins and you thank you quietly before running after Steve.

You fiddle with your fingers as your friend leads you towards Bucky’s tent. "Does he know I'm here?" You ask him and Steve shakes his head.

A deep breath leaves your lips as he stops you from going in. You look up at the six-foot man and he tells you to wait a minute. You nod your head and watch as Steve walks into the tent, hearing him tell Bucky that he's got a surprise for him.

"Come on in, Y/N," Steve calls out and Bucky's head snaps up at the sound of your name.

No way. There just happens to be another woman here with that name. It's not- Bucky's thoughts get cut off as he watches you walk into the tent, a nervous look on your face.

"Bucky," you breathe out and the twenty-six-year-old stands up from his cot before rushing towards you.

Tears come to your eyes as he wraps his arms around your shoulders, hugging you tightly. "Holy shit, you're-"

"I'm here," you whisper and wrap your arms around his waist, gripping his shirt tightly. "I'm so glad you're okay."

Bucky glances towards Steve and the blonde nods his head before leaving the two of you alone. You pull away from your best friend, sniffling as you bring your hand up to his face.

His blue eyes look you over as he feels your thumb gently strokes his cheek. "What are you doing here?" Bucky whispers and you giggle softly.

"Peggy recruited me to help out," you tell him and Bucky leans into your touch before kissing the palm of your hand.

Your heart flutters in your chest, smiling softly at the man before resting your head on his chest. Bucky wraps his arms around you once more as the two of you stand in silence.

-

"Oh come on. Come with me," you beg Peggy, not wanting to go into a bar filled with men by yourself. "It'll make me feel much safer, at least until I reach Steve and Bucky."

You run your hands over the black material, your dress looking very similar to Peggy's except hers is red. "Fine," she sighs and stands up from her seat, her eyes meeting yours. "I have to talk to Steve anyway."

"Oh?" You question with a slight tease in your voice, nudging her shoulder with yours. "We happen to fancy a certain blonde hair, blue-eyed man?"

Peggy scoffs and shakes her head, clutching her purse. "Absolutely not. Howard has new equipment for him to try," she informs you and you chuckle in response. "Are you finally going to tell James about your feelings?"

Your chuckle dies off at her words and you clear your throat, gliding your fingertips along the smooth dress. "I- Don't know what you're talking about," you tell her, and she gives you a knowing smirk as the two of you get closer to the bar.

"Oh, come on, Y/N. Steve blurted out that you're in love with the man, and it's not that hard to figure out," Peggy teases you now and you scoff, crossing your arms over your chest.

"I don't know. Maybe I'll have enough liquid courage to tell him. We'll see how it plays out," you mention and she nods her head, glad that you'll attempt to reveal your feelings.

The singing in the bar dies down as the Howling Commandos spot the two of you. Your cheeks flush at all the attention and tuck some hair behind your ear as you follow Peggy. "Miss L/N, you look fantastic," one of the men comments and you thank him quietly.

You notice both Bucky and Steve lean back in their chairs as the bar suddenly becomes silent, the two men standing up when you and Peggy approach them. "Captain," Peggy greets Steve and you smile, knowing that the two have some sort of unspoken thing happening.

"Agent Carter," Steve nods, and your eyes move to Bucky, who's currently checking her out and your heart clenches in your chest.

Well… you move around them and head towards the bar, ordering yourself a drink. "I see your top squad is prepping for duty," Peggy tells Steve.

Bucky grins and shoves his hands into his pockets. "You don't like music?" He asks. The bartender places your drink down in front of you and you thank him politely before paying.

"I do, actually," she says, not looking away from Steve for even a second. "I might even, when all of this is over, go dancing."

"Then what are we waiting for?" Bucky flirts and you roll your eyes before taking a large gulp of your drink, already wanting to leave.

So much for him feeling the same way, huh? You think to yourself as you hear Peggy tell him that she's waiting for the right partner. She bids them goodbye before giving you a wave. You nod your head as the two men watch her walk away before Bucky turns to face Steve.

"I'm invisible. I'm turning into you, it's like a horrible dream," he laughs and moves to sit back down in his spot.

Steve claps him on the shoulder as his eyes meet yours. "Maybe she has a friend," he mentions and tilts his head in your direction.

Bucky's eyes find yours as you sit on the barstool, fiddling with the glass in your hands. The brunette finishes the drink he has before glancing towards Steve. "How long has she been sitting there?" He asks and Steve frowns a bit.

"She came in with Peggy," he informs him and Bucky begins to feel a bit guilty for not noticing you.

"Shit," he whispers and watches you order another drink. "I'll see you later."

Steve pats Bucky on the back once more with a smile on his lips. "Go get 'er, tiger," he laughs causing Bucky to roll his eyes.

You smile at the bartender and go to pay him for the drink when someone lays a five-dollar bill on the table. "This one's on me," Bucky says, causing you to look up at the man. "Hey."

"Hi," you mumble as he sits down beside you.

"I'm… I'm sorry," Bucky apologizes immediately and you furrow your brows, wondering what he's apologizing for. "I should've noticed you with Agent Carter, but I didn't. I'm sorry."

A slight scoff leaves your lips and you shake your head, taking a sip of the Brandy. "It's fine, Bucky. You can do whatever you want," you tell him and Bucky frowns before taking your hand in his.

"The night before I left," he starts and your eyes glance towards his blue ones, feeling his thumb stroke the back of your hand, "when I asked to kiss you. Do you know why I did it?"

You swallow thickly as you think about it, wanting to assume it's because he liked you. "Because that chick left you at that car show? I assumed it was because you're lonely," you mumble, your heart breaking at the expression on Bucky's face.

"I kissed you because I didn't know if I was ever going to see you again. I kissed you because I wanted to know what it'd feel like in case I died over here. It was the best kiss of my life," he mumbles and your heart begins to pound against your chest.

"But, I'm here," you whisper to him and Bucky smiles softly, squeezing your hand.

He nods his head and scoots his chair closer to yours, his leg brushing against yours. "You are. Although, I don't like that you're this close to the enemy I'm really glad you're here," Bucky mumbles as the distance between your faces begins to diminish. 

Your breath hitches in your throat as Bucky's lips meet yours. You place your hand on his neck as his rests on your hips. Wolf whistles echo off the walls, causing the two of you to pull apart. You look over Bucky's shoulder to see Steve and the rest of the Howling Commandos standing there with grins on their faces.

"We seem to have an audience," you giggle and Bucky looks over his shoulder before sighing.

"Do you wanna get out of here?" He asks you and you nod your head.

Bucky laces his fingers with yours before leading you out of the bar, ignoring the cheers coming from his fellow soldiers. You press your face against his arm as the two of you walk together, his thumb rubbing against the back of your hand.

"I love you, James," you blurt out and Bucky looks down at you, squeezing your hand.

"I love you too, Y/N."

-

Taglist: @jessalyn-jpeg​ @bumblebet-20​ @queen-of-mischief​

[britishth0t]

Hyperactive (With slight homicide)

This is my first post on Tumblr (not my first post overall as I have Wattpad, but I'll post my username here when I've added my Klarion one-shots on there unless people want it lmao

You grabbed his interest when you were hanging out with your friends near the old cinema.

He seemed intrigued at first when even Teekl became slightly amused by your hyper personality.

Klarion may or may not have stalked you for a bit because of that

Eventually, Klarion did admit you seemed fun to Teekl, and wanted to get to you know you better in person.

Both of you finally met each other when you were walking around the harbour, taking photos of the sea and the horizon even if you knew you would delete them later.

Teekl thought this would be a great time for Klarion to introduce himself to you.

She half prayed that Klarion wouldn't freak you out, and the other half wanting you to not make Klarion too annoyed.

Somehow, it went really well.... A bit too well, as you two then talked as if you had known each other for years

Lets just say, you're both extremely hyper. I mean, it's Klarion.

You being a hyperactive person and him having chaos magic while also wanting mischief? It's a perfect yet dangerous match.

Teekl rethinks her choice about you two being together, as she now has to deal with two children and not one.

This also means that the Light have to deal with another 'kid' as well, since Klarion will definitely bring you to at least one meeting.

They're a bit cautious about you on first impression, not too sure if you're using Klarion to get information about the Light

But after a while, they see how much you deal with when you're with Klarion, and figure out that no one can put up a façade for that long

Yeah, even the Light know that you're one hyper son-of-a-b*tch

I wouldn't say you're obnoxiously loud, it's just being in a Light meeting no one is really talking except you, so it's dead quiet other than that. Nevertheless, you can be extremely deafening without realising it

Klarion's magical powers gives you a lot more freedom when being with him. Like, a lot more freedom, he's a lord of Chaos, you basically have no limits.

You can now do all the crazy sh*t you've ever wanted to do with Klarion by your side, and he's more than willing to join you in whatever ideas you have

A couple of times Teekl has to warn him that you're still a mortal, so he does lay off a bit from time to time to avoid getting you seriously injured

If you do get hurt, Klarion is gunna freak tf out, trying to play it off cool but failing

All adventures go out the window if you get hurt. And if you try to get up saying "I'm fine", he'll magically trap you in your bed to rest.

Don't test him, he will do it

A lot of things may break, and it's whether or not Klarion will fix it with his powers or not after... Probably not, it's not like either of you really care

If the Young Justice team do meet you, it's because you were in a forest with Klarion, messing around while climbing from branch to branch in the trees while Klarion floated next to you

The two of you were ambushed by the team, as Zatanna had sensed Klarion's power in that area while the team were nearby

They would have saved you, but you're surprisingly very good at climbing trees for any of them to grab hold of you, something that actually made them impressed

Klarion was very unhappy, so unhappy that you had to mention about going back home to hang out there to calm him down

Couple of times you'd wander off too far that Klarion isn't able to find you and would have to teleport you to him in order to know where you are, the only big thing that does get him slightly annoyed.

^ If you can make Klarion take responsibility (other than over Teekl) and act like a parent, my respect goes to you

You two don't have any rules apart from when you're injured, although there is one thing that bugs you both

2 hyper devils + "Calm down"= Death stare with Klarion hexing whoever said that

No one is allowed to tell you guys to calm down

Klarion x homicidal hyper reader ⚠️Mentions death⚠️

You met each other like the first one, except that you seemed more wanting to go into danger and edge your friends into doing bad things than actually have fun

This time, Klarion was intrigued before Teekl

He noticed your cold yet intense gaze on everyone that was near you

Something about you was odd. Klarion knew that but he didn't know what was making you seem so odd

It's not until you become best friends that he finally realises your love for murder

While you got along with Klarion before him knowing this, wow he's ecstatic that he finally knows what seemed off with you

He tempts you into murder as well, seeing that you showed to be very refrained from not doing anything about your homicidal thoughts

Catches on very quickly how manipulative you can be with your friends, friends that Klarion now wants to be your first kills

Unsurprisingly, it doesn't take that much convincing from Klarion to make you agree to killing your soon-to-be-dead mates

He helps of course, trapping them all and giving you all sorts of weapons to use on them

It's like a holiday for both of you

You even asked Klarion at one point to make their screams quieter since they were annoying you

And after you had finishing butchering your friends, Klarion realised that he like-liked you and confessed right there

Yep, Klarion did just admit to liking you while standing in the middle of dead bodies scattered around at your feet

Soon after that, you both start doing more destruction together

Limits? F*ck no

Hell, if you asked for half of the moon to be destroyed, Klarion would snap his fingers and bam, moon gone.

One time you asked Klarion to give you powers like superman, just so you could fly and mess around in the city

It started off as just throwing cars as far as you could, not exactly caring if people were inside or not

Which then turned into full blown 'lemme jump/crash into one sky scrapper to another', looking like a monkey swinging from vines in a jungle

While the heroes didn't enjoy your hyper and destructive personality nor Klarion, the news loved you. The amount of reports you and Klarion got in the news just boosted both of your ego's

"Double trouble strikes again!" "Witch boy causes havoc with anonymous villain" "League fail to stop villains, have they met their match?" "Criminals cause devastating downfall on the city" "61 lives lost in under an hour" You felt prideful in the last one, a new record in your books

If you two ever go out to have dates, it'll 100% always end with something, mostly a building, being completely destroyed

Whenever the 'kiddie' team as Klarion calls them, or the Justice League come; they're always too late to stop you two

Even if Batman claims they were so close to stopping you, he's wrong. The heroes don't even manage to get you two to notice them arriving, already going off to have some fun somewhere else

You've mentioned about wanting to kill at least one of the heroes out of spite and because you felt like it on multiple occasions

Klarion would love to snap his fingers to have every hero there for you to choose from, yet he couldn't do that because of Vandal wanting some of them alive. Especially Lex with Superboy.

You get along nicely with the Light, as they trust you enough to know that you can calm Klarion down and that you're classed as a criminal

Occasionally, you have unnerved them with the gory deaths about some of your kills, Klarion kissing your cheek out of pure happiness from hearing the defined details

Teekl doesn't really care about it as long as you get the blood off her fur if you get any on her later.

A lot of lives are lost when you two are together... Which is all the time

(Secretly, the young justice team have envied how much freedom you get when with Klarion-> This is after they have to tidy up the mess you two make)

Sorry if this isn't very good, literally made this and posted it the same day. I've loved Klarion's character for quite a long time now and saw that, although the fanfics are good, there isn't a lot of them. I'm down for requests, but right now I don't think I can do many. You can send me stuff and I'll write it down, just don't be upset if I don't post it in the next week or two. If this isn't up to your standards then srry aha, I realise I don't add much fluff and focus more on the storyline, but there's always room for improvement tho✌️

[suchalonelysunflower]

You Said Forever (c.h)

Pairing: Calum Hood x Reader

Requested: Yes!

Summary: Based on the song “Driver’s License” by Olivia Rodrigo. You did everything you could to get over him, you talked to friends, went on long drives and even wrote him a song. Why cant you just let him go?

Warnings: Angst. Language. Mentions of alcohol. Some grammar mistakes? (English is not my first language, I’m sorry)

Word count: 6.7 k

Author’s Note: I’m so excited someone requested this! I highly recommend listening to the song before you read, references are in the text and dialogs. Please remember that Reblogs, Coments, Feedback and Likes are more than welcome and encouraged! You don’t know how much they help me 💕 Hope you like it and Happy reading 🦋

Fic of the week // My Materialist // wanna be part of my tag list?

@rime-warrior : Hey love! Has anyone requested an imagine for Calum based on the song “Drivers license” by Olivia Rodrigo yet? I think you’re the only one who would be able to do it any justice 😭💕

“I still see your face in the white cars, front yards

Can't drive past the places we used to go to

'Cause I still fucking love you, babe”

You could hear the doorbell ring over the thunderous storm raging outside. It was late, probably closer to midnight than you imagined. Who could possibly be outside right now? especially in this kind of weather?

After four consecutive rings, you decided to get up from your spot on the bed and walk up to the door. It must be something very important for someone to startle you that way.

Once you got closer to the door you could also distinguish some strong bangs coming from the other side accompanied by the endless ringing “Okay, okay! I’m coming!” You called, but whoever was standing opposite to you mustn’t have heard you as they continued to disrupt the peace of a stormy night.

A shiver ran down your spine before you could reach the doorknob, almost like the ghost of a feeling, a warning for you not to open the door. Despite your common sense, you decided to open the door, already being too late to go back.

“Calum?”

He was standing in front of you, completely drenched from head to toes. His breathing was uneven, almost like he ran all the way over here, but his eyes were set on yours, unmoving as you both tried to take each other in.

“Calum-what is?-” Your words got stuck in your mouth as he pushed himself forward, grabbing your face delicately as he clashed his lips with yours.

You felt yourself melt into the kiss, making it everything you ever wished for. You wrapped your arms around his neck and deepened the kiss as you brought him closer to you. He was here, he was finally here with you. It all feels like a dream.

Your alarm clock marked 6 AM when you jumped from your dreams into reality. You should’ve known, everything was too good to be true.

You brought one hand to your face, trying to wipe away the tiredness of your eyes, but you found your cheeks were humid due to tears you didn’t even know you shed through the night, damping your pillow sheets once again.

It was always the same dream: Calum coming back to you. Night after night your mind drifted to another reality where you’d meet again, sometimes it was at a concert, other at the local café of your neighborhood that you used to love so much, but tonight was the first night where he appeared at your house. Which was funny considering that he hasn’t stepped foot in this place for almost a year.

You pushed your thoughts away as you tried to go back to sleep. And you did try, but the tossing and turning made you restless, you cursed your mind as the only thing you could see when you closed your eyes was Calum, standing at your door and asking for a kind of forgiveness you weren’t sure you could give. Although, who were you kidding?

Checking the clock once again you realized it was 20 past 6, still too early to go back to real life, but not too early to start and try to live a little.

Pushing yourself off the bed, you grabbed a big hoodie and some pair of sweatpants before putting on your running shoes and hopping into the bathroom to brush your teeth and clean your face before grabbing your keys and getting out of the house.

You sat on the driver’s seat, just like you did a thousand times, taking a big breath before starting the engine.

“You do know you have a perfectly good car in your driveway, right?”

You smiled at him and greeted him with a hug and a kiss as you climbed into the passenger's seat.

It was your usual morning routine. Ever since you met and he found out you lived nearby the studio he always volunteered to carpool with you. Since then, your mornings were filled with hugs, good coffee and stolen kisses you gave each other as the road to the studio became longer and longer thanks to all the detours you took.

“Hello, Calum. I’m very good, thank you for asking, how are you?”

Calum rolled his eyes and gave you a little peck on your lips “I would’ve been on time if I hadn’t had to pick your ass from the other side of town”

You lightly punched him in the arm “You know you love me” He smiled.

“That I do, darling. But I would love you more if you drove us from time to time”

“You know I don’t have a car!” Calum turned to you and pointed to the classic mustang sitting in front of your house, raising his eyebrows as if to ask if you were stupid “That’s my dad’s car!”

“That he kindly gave to you when he helped you move to LA so you could pursue your dream of becoming the next new sensation of music,” He said mocking a dreamy voice to try imitating you “He said it was yours, so it's yours! And honestly, it’s a pretty cool car if you ask me. A real chick magnet”

You mocked a gag at his old reference of movies from the 50’s “Sexist much?” You both laughed as he started the car and started driving “Anyways, he only gave me the car because mom was threatening to sell it on eBay if he didn’t get rid of it soon enough, so he could still come and get it whenever he wants to” You shrugged.

Calum started sniffing the air, “What?” You asked, sniffing as well in case there was something wrong.

“Do you smell that?” He asked with a concerned face.

“Smell what?”

He leaned closer to you and sniffed harder before whispering “The bullshit”

You scoffed and pushed him back “Haha very funny”

You waited until he stopped laughing, you never told him the truth, well two truths actually.

One: That you enjoyed the drives you had with him, it was a special time for the two of you to be yourselves without anyone to judge. You would laugh, sing, talk for hours as you sat in traffic under the city lights. It was the little moments that matter for the two of you, these were your little moments and you didn’t want to give them up just yet.

It was not easy being in a “relationship” that no one knew about, not even his bandmates, although you knew they were suspecting something. All the sneaking away while amid a recording session, hanging out in each other’s rooms, how adamant he was to carpool with you every day, even when he didn’t need to go to the studio… It was an easy tell, but it was also your private life.

You told yourself that it was for the best, that you shouldn’t mix work and personal life, especially when your personal life included Calum. He was adamant to keep whatever you had out of the public eye “What we have is good” He said, “Why ruin it with labels?” And you agreed, knowing that making everything official could just mess everything up. Calum was your best friend, after all, you would be damn if you lose him.

And for the second truth:

“I don’t know how to drive”

Just in time, the traffic light turned red. Calum turned to you in disbelief “Bluff” You shook your head, not looking at him just yet “Bluff! That can’t be right! Y/N how old are you?”

You shrugged again “I never needed to! I always enjoyed walking plus,” You said nudging your arm on Calum’s “I have the best driver right here!” You pecked his cheek with a kiss and saw how quickly they blushed, making you celebrate this tiny victory inside your head. You loved making him blush, it gave you some kind of security that he felt the same way.

Calum stared at you for a moment too long, making you self-conscious under his eyes. You could tell the gears were running inside his head “What if I teach you how to drive?”

You chuckled “Now I call your bluff”

“I’m serious!” He said, not taking his eyes from you “We have time before the tour starts, and that way you could drive us somewhere for once! You know? Picking me out and going on a date?”

Your eyes were set on him with an alarming tone, a what now? Was he serious? “You would do that for me?” You asked shyly, not wanting to fall into another of his pranks, but he seemed serious enough.

“Of course!” He said with a chuckle that accentuated all his dimples “Let’s get you your driver’s license, Y/N!”

Calum grabbed your hand and intertwined it with his, shaking it as a victory celebration and then placing a kiss on your knuckles. You laughed and reminded him where you were “Eyes on the road, Hood” even though the light was still red, you would rather him not noticing the red that tinted your cheeks and the loud beating of your heart.

You saw how the sun was starting to illuminate the coast as you drove by. Everything was so quiet this early in the morning and you were thankful, you needed this quiet so you could be alone with your thoughts once again. And, just like every day, that just meant you were thinking of Calum.

Could you blame him? Possibly, your friends said you should. But could you live with yourself knowing that you are holding a grudge towards someone who is probably unaware of it? Not in the slightest.

You were never official, not to the public at least, but in your heart, you knew he was the only one who could make you feel like this. He was the only one capable of making you laugh as hard as you did, cry the way that you did, and enjoy yourself to the fullest. You were your best when you were with him and now… How are you now?

Would he care?

You knew he loved you, he said so himself. The only thing you didn’t know was in what way. Did he love you like a lover? or just like a friend who he’d get to kiss and make love to from time to time?

The lump in your throat became stronger as you remember the last moments you had with him and all the promises he couldn’t keep. You tried to distract yourself, crying behind the wheel could be dangerous and you weren’t going to risk your life for him, not yet at least.

You turned on the radio in hopes that it would call your mind, at this point even the commercials would make you feel better if they made you think about anything but him.

“And now, Laurie. We have the hottest single of the year!” Said the radio host with the most cheerful tone a person could mutter this early “This up-and-coming artist debuted this single almost a month ago and it is still top of the charts in almost 34 countries all over the world!”

Now the lump in your throat came back but this time with a knot on your stomach as well. The first time you heard the song play on the radio you felt excited, after all this is why you came to LA in the first place. Yet the feeling became bittersweet in no time.

“My girls, boys, and non-binary folks; if you are in your car right now get ready to sing this at the top of your lungs with all the feelings you could muster and send a fuck you to your ex. This is ‘Driver’s License’ by Y/N L/N”

“I got my driver’s license last week, just like we always -”

You turned off the music and kept driving in silence.

You knew it was a bad idea to release the song you wrote about him. Maybe it was a petty move on your part, but… didn’t you have the right to be petty this time?

Either way is not like people would realize it was about him. It was your little secret, yours and Calum’s if he ever heard it, although you believe that if he did then he would’ve said something to you by now. Yet his silence was similar to the one in your car; deafening and heartbreaking.

“I don’t know Calum,” You said as you stared at your car parked in front of you “Is it safe to do it here?”

Calum was leaning on top of the hood, rolling his eyes at your indecision “Would you rather do it on the PCA?” You shot your eyes at him with a deathly glare, he just chuckled “I promise is okay, this parking lot is big enough and there are no cars left that you could accidentally hit”

You were both standing in the middle of the studio’s parking lot late at night. Calum insisted that this was the day you learned how to drive, so he spent the night at your place and today he drove you in your car, that way there would be no excuses left for you not to do it.

However, you were still hesitant. This was technically your father’s car, his other baby, and if you ever crash it you wouldn't know what you’ll do. Calum noticed your doubt and took a step closer to you, grabbing your hand in his to give you some sort of encouragement.

“Look, babe. It’s okay if you don’t want to do it. I won’t pressure you” He said softly “I just thought this could be fun for the both of us” He smiled “Fun and educational for that matter. But if you’re not ready then we can go home and-”

“I want to do it, Cal,” You said, “I just- I don’t know where to even begin!”

He chuckled and placed a kiss on your forehead, making all the butterflies in your stomach take flight.

“Tell you what,” Calum said confidently “You get behind the wheel and I’ll put us some inspirational music”

He walked back to the car to connect his phone to the speakers “You better put my song first!” You called after him as you walked towards the driver’s seat.

Calum laughed “God, I should’ve never told you that! Now your ego’s off the damn roof!” Soon enough he sat on the passenger’s seat next to you and buckled up.

“Not my fault that you think of me so often you want to put it into song” You teased, leaning in for a kiss that Calum was happy to oblige.

“Yes,” He said mid-kiss “It is completly your fault” Next thing you know ‘Kill My Time’ was playing on the radio, but Calum was not letting go of you just yet.

You wished this moment last forever, you wished every moment with Calum would last forever, but you both needed to breathe at some point “I wish I could kiss you all day long, I swear I could die on your lips and die happy” You said as you pressed your forehead to his, smiling like a fool in love.

“Soon, love,” Calum said as he crashed his lips against yours “Just wait until tour is over and then we’ll have forever to do just that”

You grinned at his words, a few days ago he promised to make your relationship publicly official once he came back from tour, that way you’ll have more time together as a fairly new couple. If he was willing to take that step, then you were more than ready to follow along. You knew you’d give everything for him if you had to and you still won’t regret it. You love him, and that was enough for you.

“Think I’m ready to start,” You said once you pulled away from him for the last time.

Calum nodded and patted his hand on your thigh “Okay, first you have to turn on the engine. Good, then you check all your mirrors and make sure your gear shift is on position-”

“My what?” You asked.

“Your gear shift, you know? The stick in-”

“Oh, you mean the PRNDL? You said, trying your hardest to stay serious, but failing to do so once you saw Calum’s face.

“You couldn't go one day without your references now, could you?” He said in amusing disbelief that had you both laughing.

The lesson was fairly simple, it just consisted of going forwards and on reverse a few times and practicing some turns in circles around the parking lot, and you were proud to say you were getting the hang of it pretty quickly. Calum turned out to be a great instructor with the patience of a god, he never got mad at you or showed that he was scared - even though it was pretty clear that he was, especially when you turned too far and almost hit a lamp post - and you appreciate him for that.

It was almost 2 AM when you decided to call it quits for the day and start back tomorrow. Calum was now behind the wheel driving you to your house so he could pick up his car and drive home.

“Cal?” You said once he parked in your driveway.

“Yes, love?”

“I’m really happy with you” You shyly admitted.

Calum’s heart beamed with love as he pulled you closer for a goodnight kiss “And I’m really happy with you”

You kissed him one more time before jumping out of the car “See you tomorrow!” He called before you watched him drive away.

The sound of a horn woke you up from your daydream memory. You didn’t know the light had just turned green until the car behind you started pounding their button and cursing at you to move.

You watched the white car from the rearview mirror as you drove away, it looked like his, all the white cars did, but you knew he couldn’t be here just yet, not until the tour was done.

A sinking feeling of hopelessness filled your inner thoughts once again. The promises he made faded like the wind in the summer once he stepped on that plane and decided that you were something he had to leave behind. It would’ve been good to know beforehand, that way you wouldn’t have wasted a year by the phone, hoping it would ring and that he’d be on the other line.

You glanced at the car’s clock one more time, it’s already too late to do anything, you’ve been driving around without a destination for hours when it only felt like minutes. Time is something you learn how to lose when you’re alone, minutes become meaningless once you realize there is no one there to share them with you, but it’s late and it was time to head home. You let out a sigh at the realization that your drive-through therapy didn’t work this time.

Deciding to take the long way home, you started to drive through the lesser-known streets of LA, hoping that you’d get lost somewhere and not knowing if anyone would care.

The dreams of running away came flashing down, more of an idea than an afterthought. Yes, you made it in LA, you have a hit song and your dreams are coming true. Why didn’t that feel like enough?

If you were gone, even just for a little bit, would anybody notice? If you just got up in your car and started driving somewhere unknown until the feeling of loneliness faded away. Could you drive your feelings away? Outrun them somehow?

You knew that if Calum could do it then so could you. It was so easy for him to just leave whatever you had behind, to leave you behind and hope that you were okay somehow. If he thought that you were okay then he maybe didn’t know you at all and you are probably better off without him, just like your friends say all the time.

But were you better off without him?

Tears started piling up in the corner of your eyes once again. No, you were not better off without him even though you want to be. And neither you are better off with him, if he ever came back to you, that is.

You swallowed a sob, trying your hardest not to break down again. It was useless, all the tears and all the songs and all the fuck him an attitude that you could muster… What was it for if not to dwell on your pain even more? You are still hurt and he still did not care.

You took a turn on the left, knowing the way like the back of your hand. You knew this path would lead you home, but you also knew it would lead you to his house as well.

The first time you did this was to practice how to find your way to Calum’s home without getting lost. You knew he wasn’t home and he wouldn’t be for many many months, but you wanted to surprise him once he got there, to pick him up and drive him to that date he promised you once he returned. Now, you avoided that road like a plague unless you had days like this, days in which missing him became everything you did, and now passing through his empty house gave you the reality check you desperately needed: He is gone. It also inspired you to write the song, it was a blessing and a curse.

You turned into the familiar street and looked to your right, you counted the houses passing by one, two, three, four… Until you spotted his old porch. Normally, that’s all you did. You would drive through his street and see the house dark and cold as his owner was out of town. But today there was a white car on his driveway.

Your breath got caught in your throat as you recognized the license plate, immediately stepping on the breaks and making the car stopped abruptly in front of the house.

That is his car… But how? You knew that Calum kept his car in Ashton’s place so they could drive up together to the airport every time they had to leave. What is it doing here? Tour didn’t end until a week from today and-

The sudden movement coming from the house pulled you from every rational thought as the front door opened. You held your breath as the person who stole all your sleepless nights came into view.

He was home.

Calum stepped out of his house with a bright smile on his face. His hair was shorter than the last time you’ve seen it, and he was less tanned, a fact that was easily noticeable thanks to the contrast of his leather jacket on his skin. But his dimples were intact as he smiled at whoever was inside the house.

A small figure came behind him, wrapping her arms around his torso as she was laughing at something he said. Her blond hair was falling down her back so elegantly, and her smile was bright as day as she hugged him, you wouldn’t have noticed that in the photos. She looked happy, but what broke you the most is that he looked happy as well.

He was home, but he was home with her.

You knew something was going on, even if there wasn’t anything official from either of them. You weren’t official, too. But seeing them was all the proof you needed to believe it. Believe that it was actually over and neither of you said goodbye.

You bit the inside of your cheek as silent tears started rolling down your face. You wanted to scream, to cry your hearts out, and let the world fuck itself over and over again. But for the love that you had on yourself, you promised that you wouldn't dignify him by making a scene. He didn’t deserve it. He didn’t deserve to know you cared.

With that in mind, you wiped your tears and floored the gas pedal, driving away from the scene.

“Hey!!!!!”

“Guess what?”

“I PASSED THE TEST!”

“I can legally drive on my own now :D!”

Read 19:05

“Calum?”

“Oh, you must be at the concert now, my bad!”

“Let me know when we can FaceTime again! I can’t wait to tell you how it went! I’m so excited we can finally switch places and let me be the one in charge of the road, lol”

Read 23:54

“Is everything alright, Cal?”

Read 04:32

“I miss you”

Read July 19th 14:49

Last week you sent your last text to him and he still hadn’t responded yet. You tossed all night waiting for at least a smoke signal from him. He was gone for two months now and he never missed one of your calls, it was so unlike him, especially when he promised you to call every day he was on tour.

You tried to distract yourself by doing everything you could think of. You watched videos, listened to music, played candy crush over and over again, and still, there was no answer.

You were starting to give up when a notification from Twitter graced your screen, it read: “Calum Hood, bassist from the band 5 Seconds of Summer, seen cozying up with a mysterious girl in a nightclub two nights ago”

You blinked twice and reread the headline, hoping that your eyes were deceiving you.

“The Australian bassist seemed to be catching up with some friends and letting it all loose at a wild night here in London after their sold-out show in the O2 Arena.

Hood was wearing-”

You skipped all that unnecessary information, scrolling down to the bottom where you knew all media kept the real gossip. A bubble of anxiety started forming inside your throat, as your fingers moved over the screen. The atmosphere became heavy while you could hear your heart thundering inside your chest, every little beat it made was hurting you, almost like it was banging your ribcages begging to be set free.

Time stood still as you looked at the pictures, not wanting to believe your eyes as they analyzed every detail of it.

There he was, hugging a blond woman from behind and resting his face on her shoulders just like he used to do with you. Even from the picture, you could tell she was gorgeous. The next picture showed her wrapping her arms around his neck and smiling at him. He had his hands cupping her cheeks, his face denoted a serious expression, but the look in his eyes was fixed on her.

He kissed her in the third picture, his hands still cupping her cheeks. It seemed like he was smiling through the kiss.

The last picture had them sitting on some kind of leather sofa. She was sitting on his lap and his hands were wandering very close to her butt, holding her close to him.

“The fans of the band wasted no time on identifying the mysterious girl. She seems to be the new tour assistant manager of the boys. Let’s hope that work and pleasure don’t get between this beautiful couple #goals<3”

The stream of tears was never-ending. You couldn’t understand what was going on, why Calum hasn’t said anything to you, why-why did he let it happen? Something was not right, and it wasn’t just your breathing getting heavy inside your lungs or your shaky hands as you typed the next text.

“We need to talk, please call me?”

You got no answers that night as you cried yourself to sleep, realizing that you had no one to comfort you cause nobody knew that you two were even together. You were utterly alone.

The next morning you woke up to no text from him, not even a call or a voicemail.

Read 08:45

You forced yourself to finish your nighttime routine. Ever since you came back home you did nothing but cry, but not of sadness, you were crying of anger.

With him being far away it almost didn’t seem real. You allowed yourself to create some sort of fantasy where he would come back to you, to start over where you left off and be together for everyone to see. How foolish.

You thought that he’ll hear your song and he’ll be running back to you to apologize, to ask if you still love him like before. But he won’t, because he is happy without you while you rot in your own pity party.

You grabbed hold onto the counter, trying to hold the tears as everything suddenly became clear as day. All the red flags you ignored were now shining as candy apples. He made a fool of you and didn’t even dignify you with at least some kind of warning or apology. He brought you down and now it was up to you to climb back up and even higher than before.

How could he?

All the memories you held close to your heart were burning in the pyre of your soul. You loved him, you knew you did. But all you meant for him was just a summer fling, something to waste time on before the real thing came along.

But he loved you…

Did he?

He spent entire days and nights next to you. He told you stories no one’s ever heard of. He sang to you to sleep and wrote you the most beautiful poems you’ve ever read. He picked you up every day and stayed with you until it was your time to leave. He made you feel welcome and there was not a day where you didn’t feel safe around his arms. He was your best friend. He taught you how to drive and what it meant to feel something real, something as important as the love you could have for someone. He loved you, he said he did, he promised he did.

Maybe love was not enough for him.

Your mind was divided, fighting over and over and over again about the same thing. Part of you cursed his name while the other part just wanted to be held by him, telling you that it will all be okay. But you couldn't even trust yourself on this one.

The doorbell rang, one, two, three times.

You were not going to answer it. One look in the mirror and you knew you couldn't answer anyone in this state. Your eyes were puffy and red, your cheeks were hollowed from not eating all day. There was nothing you could do to make you look or feel better, so whoever was behind the door will have to find another way to disturb the chaos in your mind.

However, they were persistent. With the ring of the doorbell came a few bangs. It seemed urgent.

You took one last look at yourself before deciding with a sigh to go and open the door. Whoever it was must have a good reason to come banging at your door a little past midnight.

“I’m coming!” You called, voice coming out a little hoarse from crying all night.

A shiver ran down your back and you felt like you were here before, in this exact moment where all your instincts told you to walk away. You decided to ignore them as you gently turned the doorknob and opened the door. Immediately wishing you didn’t.

“Calum?”

He stood in front of you, soaked from head to toe. Hands in the pockets of his jacket, not the leather one, but one more cozy. He was also wearing a pair of sweatpants and part of his hair was stuck on his forehead. You didn’t realize it was raining.

“Can I come in?” He asked, not even a hello.

You debated on whether or not to let him in. Part of you wanted to throw him back into the streets, but a storm was coming - much in the literal and subliminal way, and you didn’t want him to drive in this weather, you still care for him even though you shouldn’t.

With a simple nod, you opened the door wide enough so he could enter the house, a little “thank you” came out of his mouth as he stepped inside for the first time in over a year.

You closed the door and started walking into the kitchen with Calum following you like a stray dog. Your hands were shaking so you hid them behind your back as you slowly wrapped your arms around you in an attempt to comfort you throughout this whole ordeal.

Calum is standing in front of you on the other side of the island. He is not looking at you, but rather he is looking at his feet. You figured he was too scared to be the first one to talk and it broke your heart that he has suddenly become shy around you when you used to tell each other everything. ‘But whose fault is that?’ You thought.

Now you were just two strangers in a room.

“I thought you’d still be on tour,” You said, breaking the silence that has fallen upon you.

Calum looked up and he almost looked thankful that you spoke first “The last two venues canceled at the last minute due to weather conditions,” He said “So we came back earlier than expected”

You nodded and faced the other way. The fact that he was here in your home made your stomach turn and not in a good way. You always thought him coming back was going to be something joyful, but it became more painful as time went by.

“They closed café Mariannete while I was gone” He said, was he really going to talk about that right now? Did he came over here to reminisce about the café you used to have breakfast in?

“I didn’t know. I don’t go there anymore”

More awkward silence came upon you. You both knew he was bullshiting his way into the real conversation he was avoiding to have. He always used to do that and you have forgotten how much you hated it.

“Were you driving by my house today?” He asked and you froze on the spot. You didn’t think that he saw you.

“I was,” You cleared your throat “I was coming back home”

“And you didn’t say hello” It was more a statement than a question.

A sour taste filled your mouth. How dare he? “You were busy enough” You knew it was a petty answer, but what did he expect?

A flash of hurt came through Calum’s eyes as he said nothing in return. He knew you saw him with her, so he had no excuse to push the topic back to you.

The atmosphere was tense as the only thing you could hear was the ticking of the clock and the raindrops falling through your window. There was so much to say and yet none of you were brave enough to muster them.

You had every right to be mad and he had a right to explain himself, but you were not going to be the first one to cave in. Not without hearing from him first.

Eventually, Calum got restless of the silence.

“Your song is amazing,” He said, pleading for an answer that didn’t contain poison in your words “Ashton showed it to us the day it came out”

So he has heard it, you didn’t know if you should be proud or ashamed “Thanks”

“I forgot to congratulate you on your number one”

“You forgot to do a lot of things”

If there was ever a moment where you could give him the chance to redeem himself, this was it.

You saw how Calum shifted his weight from foot to foot, he had his lips pressed in a thin line and you could see how his eyes changed and fell into a deep pit of regret as tears were forming in the corner of his eye.

“I know the song’s about me-” He said.

“How did you figure that out?” You said sarcastically.

“Y/N…” He pleaded, running a hand through his face, but you were having none of that.

“Why did you do it, Calum?”

You needed an answer, something you could hold onto to eventually let go. Calum, however, was almost speechless.

The ticking of the clock became even louder as you counted the seconds until he spoke again. One, two, three…

Ten “I don’t know”

The answer cut right through you as you let a stream of tears roll down your cheek, not lifting your head to look at him in the eyes. It wasn’t what you expected, it was way worse.

Calum noticed your crying and started panicking, spilling every thought he had through his mouth “I-I don’t- I was drunk and she was there with our groups of friends and we were too drunk to even take notice of what was happening and we just kissed and- Y/N, I’m not perfect. We weren’t perfect, we weren’t even official and it was only a kiss and I thought it would be okay but then the tabloids and your message and I just- And she’s a great friend, she didn’t mean any harm but things happened and-” He stammered, unable to connect his thoughts as he desperately tried to fix something so you would stop crying.

“For me it was perfect” You cried “We were perfect in my mind, you made it perfect. God, Calum. Why didn’t you tell me? I spent months in agony trying to figure it out, to make it make sense! I beat myself up over and over again and there you were having the time of your life with a stranger!” Your voice was loud, not enough to yell, but enough to make it clear that you were fuming.

“What are you talking about?!” Calum said matching the tone of your voice “I missed you every fucking day but there was nothing I could do about it! You don’t know shit of what you’re talking about!”

You scoffed “Oh yeah! It surely seemed like you missed me! You never called me once, Calum. Not even to apologize and try to make it better”

“I didn’t know how!” He said, “I was scared that-”

“That I’d hate you?”

“That you’d forgive me,” Calum said in one breath, making you stare in shock “I-I didn’t want you to forgive me, Y/N, cause you deserve so much better. On tour I realized that I wasn’t ready for a relationship, no matter how much you mean to me and I didn’t know how to tell you that so-”

“And are you ready now? That’s why you are with her?” You interrupted, head filled with anger to even think straight.

“I’m not ready to be with either of you!”

The room felt silent once again.

You had no answer to that and you weren’t sure you wanted to hear more from him.

The rain outside your window started to calm down, only droplets of water were left as the memory of the storm that almost was.

Your legs gave out a minute later, sliding you down slowly onto the floor. Calum walked up to you and sat next to you, neither of you saying anything for what it seemed like hours.

“You said you loved me…” You said with a faint voice.

Calum sighed “I did. I do”

“And you love her too?”

He thought about it “I don’t know. I might” You closed your eyes as a tear fell down your cheek “She’s good to me, Y/N. And we really got close but-”

“I know,” You said with a soft sniffle “We weren’t perfect either”

“You do know I love you, right?” He said softly, turning his face towards you “And that everything we had was real. Every minute of it, every word in every song was true and it still is. All was real and it’s still there somewhere. I still want you in my life, Y/N, cause you make it better. I just,” He sighed “I need to figure my shit out”

“Yeah, you do” You said, making him chuckle darkly “But I can’t promise I’ll be here”

“I wouldn’t ask you to”

You sat there in silence for a few more moments, just enjoying each other's company before everything fades away.

“I love you, too” You said in a whisper, hoping that he won’t hear “I still fucking love you”

Calum sighed “I know”

“Guess that you didn’t mean what you wrote on that song about me

‘Cause you said forever now I drive alone past your street”

.

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