#it’s both good and bad cos Apple is gonna get me wanting to keep this after the free period is over 😅😅

[love-hope-faith-feels-like-a-lie]

I got Fitness+ for free for a few months and I’ve only really started using it. I’ve found out they have a few workouts to Taylor’s music and mate, this is amazing. I’m about to do the yoga one and the instructor is amazing and clearly a Taylor fan too which just makes it ten times better. Might actually workout more often now 😅

[gay-salt-amber]

May I ask for a fic of Venti dragging Scara to dance with him during a outdoor festival in Mondstadt while Diluc makes a comment from the side lines they seem closer than one assumed? Maybe with some inspo from Ed Sheeran Galway Girl or Nancy Mulligan?? And maybe with some background Childe x Lumine or whoever you ship him with???

this ones gonna be a short one but I like it

----

The Windblume festival was in full swing in Mondstadt, its archon was no stranger to the festival and loved to celebrate with his people, this year was just a tiny bit different, considering that he had a date~

“Venti, you don't have to drag me! I can walk fine on my own!” The former fatui harbinger complained

Venti laughed, “You tripped over air earlier-”

“That was a one-time thing that you agreed to never mention!” Scaramouche retorted

The bard smiled, “You said you wanted to enjoy the Windblume festival, and getting there earlier than others is a good way to start!”

Scaramouche rolled his eyes, “So you decided to prod me awake at 6 am?”

He nervously laughed, “I mean, yeah! You do live in Springvale! So it takes a while to get to the city.”

“It takes fifteen minutes.” The puppet pointed out

The two eventually made it to Mondstadt city, music was playing, people were dancing and drinks were flowing from both taverns in Mondstadt,

Venti smiled at his city's happiness, “So, what would you like to do first, ‘Mouche?”

Scaramouche shrugged, “I mean, this is your city, these are your people. You should know what's best, shouldn't you?”

The anemo archon nodded in agreement, “I mean, I suppose so…This is your first time in Mondstadt though so I want you to have fun rather than my version of fun.” Scaramouche sighed, kissing his lover on the cheek, “Being with you is all the fun I need. I don't care if it involves dancing, drinking, singing, or poetry.”

Venti blushed, “Oh, thank you! Being around you is a lot of fun too!” Venti seemed rather awkward now, not because he didn't enjoy Scaramouches affectionate words its because he wasn't very used to it.”

Venti looked around, “Well, how about we go sit down over there near the Angels Shares stall? We can sit and chat and I can get some of their wine! It's very good this time of year!”

The bard smiled, taking Scaramouches hand, “I know you’re not the biggest fan of alcohol though, so I can always get you some cider.”

Scaramouche gave Venti's hand a squeeze, “Thanks, sweetheart.” The two made it over to the Angels Shares booth and sat down at a table, Diluc, the owner of the Angel's Share, and also Dawn Winery then walked over, “You’re here rather early, Venti. I didn’t expect you to bring company.” The archon giggled, “Mhm! This is Scaramouche, my boyfriend!”

Scaramouche said nothing and just gave a quick wave to the red-headed bartender

Diluc raised an eyebrow, “That's rather surprising, isn't it?”

Venti looked confused, “How so?”

“Because he's a Fatui Harbinger, you yknow, the same group of people who took your gnosis.”

Scaramouche then butted in by saying, “I’m a former harbinger and I was never involved with taking Venti's gnosis.”

Diluc sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, “Fine. Venti, I’m assuming you want wine?”

Venti nodded, “Indeed! And ‘Mouche will have some apple cider.”

Diluc then walked off and started making the drinks, leaving Scaramouche and Venti alone at their table

“Dilucs not a bad guy, honest. He’s just wanting to keep Mondstadt safe.”

The puppet let out a soft chuckle, “Oh, I understand, that's not the part that's funny.”

Venti tilted his head, “What do you mean?”

Scaramouche pointed to a table a few feet away, “Childe is right there with his husband.” Venti's eyes widened, “Holy shit! Thats Morax! That old blockhead told me he was married but I didn't think he meant to your co-worker!”

Scaramouche smiled, “Yeah. apparently, Morax is pregnant too, I didn’t even know he could do that.”

“All archons can have babies, and I can too if you’re curious~” Venti winked, making Scaramouche light up like a Christmas tree

“I-I…uhm- I mean, I want a family with you but that was so unexpected…”

Venti laughed, “I know, I know. I just wanted to tease you.”

The two eventually got their drinks and happily sipped away and enjoyed a loving conversation. Eventually, the sky started to light up with stars and Venti looked at Scaramouche with a grin, standing up and extending his hand to him, “Will you dance with me?” Venti asked

Scaramouche blushed but grabbed Venti's hand, “Always…”

The two happily danced together for what seemed like forever, some of the other event-goers stopped and watched the couple as they danced like they were floating on air. Venti always liked to dance, either it be outside or at home, they’d always ballroom dance and it was always one of their favorite things to do together.” 

Venti rested his head on Scaramouches shoulder, “I love you more than you could ever imagine.”

Scaramouche gave him a kiss on the head, toying with his braids, “I love you too, Venti. Thank you for giving a puppet like me a heart.”

Venti reciprocated the kiss, “And thank you for warming my tired heart, you’re the first person and only person I’ve ever wanted to call mine.”

Scaramouche spoiled Venti in kisses as they continued to dance, “You’re so special to me, my dear bard, my sunshine, love of my life, my sun, my moon, my star…”

The two danced and danced with only two weak streetlights and the moon illuminating them as they waltzed.

Scaramouche got down onto one knee causing everyone there to gasp, including Venti

“My beloved, you have done so much for me, more than I deserve. You fell in love first, you confessed first, you hugged me first, you kissed me first…so, I wanted to do something first. For you.”

Scaramouche and Venti both began to have tears running down their cheeks, “Venti, will you marry me?”

Venti tackled and hugged Scaramouche, almost knocking the ring from the man's hand, “Yes! Yes! I love you so much! I’d love to marry you!”

When they stood up, Venti was helping get the dirt off of Scaramouches clothes, and then Scaramouche dipped him and kissed his lips, which made everyone, in the now relatively large crowd, cheer loudly.

The two didn't pay attention to the cheers, they were lost in their own world, and not even Celestia could destroy that world. Venti held Scaramouche tight and said,

“You know, I’ve always wanted to wear a veil.”

[bottleofscapa]

Sarah and Nick (Part 1.1)

The best friend’s little sister

This is a story I wrote together with another author, originally in German. I got their permission to publish it here. It is written from the perspective of Sarah (my co-authors part) and Nick (my Part). Please excuse any translation mistakes and sometimes less than perfect phrasing, English is my second language.

This is all fantasy.

Content warning: CNC, manipulation, age play, bimbofication, free use

Nick:

I hear a clicking sound and know, that the camera on the entry gate just turned on after I rang the bell. Shortly after, a less than enthusiastic “hello Nick” sounds from the speaker and the wide steel gate swings open.

While walking along the broad driveway, I ask myself, what I’m actually doing here. I never got along with Ben’s parents. For them I always was the working class boy, that’s a bad influence on their son and had no business being at that summer camp 16 years ago - okay, that might actually be true. The only reason I was there was, because the camp wanted to boast with a program for the less fortunate - and yes, sometimes I was a bad influence on Ben. But hey, I never brought the cocaine. Well, most of the time, I couldn’t have afforded it anyway.

I came back home eight days ago and spent my time crashing on different friends’ couches, looking for an apartment and a job. At least this time I have a little bit saved up to keep myself afloat. Finding a job turned out to be a lot harder, than expected. Of course, skilled craftsmen are highly sought after, but any boss gets suspicious - and rightly so - when they learn, that you just didn’t come back to your old job from your holiday and spent the last year as a surfing instructor in the Caribbean. Holding courses during daytime, spending evenings at the bar. Sometimes as barkeeper, sometimes as a guest.

Deep in my thoughts, I reach the front door. The garden hardly changed since I visited the last time. The only difference is the Porsche in the driveway, that I don’t know yet. Looks like Maxwell got himself yet another toy. Ben is standing in the doorway and greets me happily, but before allowing me to enter, he suddenly becomes serious: “two things, mate: I told my parents, that you’re only staying two nights. That’s all I can offer. And you are supposed to keep a low profile.” He sombrely looks at me and continues: “be careful, my mother would love to catch you pocketing something! But now, welcome!”

He opens the door, letting me enter. I throw down my duffel bag and the large military rucksack, carrying all my belongings, take off my shoes and say: “just as it used to be! You‘re gonna help me with my stuff? I already had to lug it Alltage way from the bus stop.“ Bene grabs my duffel, I pick my backpack back up and follow him upstairs.

Sarah:

Just as I’m about to walk down the stairs, I hear my brother talking to someone. Your voice sounds familiar, but i can’t place it right away. Arriving at the bottom of the stairwell, I can’t believe who I’m seeing. But before I can welcome you, my brother snaps at: “no way you are going to leave the house like that, young lady!“ I’m wearing white shorts, a tight top, spotting a deep cleavage, as well as white and dark yellow stripes. But since it’s over 30 degrees outside, most people will be clad this way.

“Calm down, Benny“, I answer mockingly and give him a quick kiss on the cheek in passing. “And welcome back, Nick”, I add, while quickly checking you out. You look good, but you always did that. Your dark blonde hair is longer, than I remember and your skin is more tanned. Your white shirt seems washed out and your shoes walked through.

Then both of you pass me and vanish upstairs. Just as I’m about to grab an apple from the fruit bowl in the kitchen, I hear my mother: “Sarah, darling, don’t forget your tennis lesson today”

How could I? For more than ten years, I got a private tennis lesson, each Monday and Thursday. “Of course not”, I answer with a forced smile, grab the convertible’s key and get on my way to a friend. But the entire drive, my thoughts circle around you. What did you do while being away for so long? And your smile…..even back then, it meant trouble. I highly doubt, that changed, even though both of you got more responsible with time.

[justice-maul]

Platonic King x Titan Male Reader Headcanons

Keep in mind English isn’t my first language I hope you enjoy this!

What you look like:

When King accidentally summons you for the first time, let’s just say everyone is terrified and gets into a fighting position thinking your gonna hurt King

When they realize you are not a threat, the questions come in “Who, are you? What do you want? What are you?”

And when you announce that you are a titan and Kings brother they’re all more confused and now have more questions 😅

They let you stay over for the night but they are still very cautious of you King is more excited than them but Eda warns him that you might be dangerous

The next day is filled with interrogation and you are pretty calm throughout it but King decides to tell them all to stop

And says that he wants to know if you related when you answer yes they’re all surprised, to say the least, but King is also a little excited

So the next few days you willingly stay with your brother and his adopted family who happens to be a witch and a human

The more King starts to spend time with you asking you a ton of questions about your family and you the more comfortable he gets around you so he’s very willing to sleep near you

Eventually, you and king start to really see each other as family and talk about life and how it feels to be a titan

But if anyone does try to mess with King you are always somehow nearby I mean let’s be honest a powerless witch and a human in the boiling isles is not that scary, but a titan? 1000%

This brings me to my next point. It’ll be much easier to take down Belos with you there considering the fact that you don’t have to hide the fact that you are a titan cause your powerful

So you can prove all of his theories wrong and finally put him and the collector to an end ( so in this universe everything is fine because I’m still recovering from the ending 😭 )

The towns people may either fear you or love you and worship you or maybe even both but the family knows your good (unless you don’t want to be)

Oh and try to stay away from Lilith she goes all abandonment and attachment issues on you and starts worshipping you and trying to get others to do the same but you quickly stop her and say you need no such thing ( but that doesn’t really stop her )

And don’t even get me started on Hunter after losing Belos and his meaning his whole world turned upside down and all though he had made real friends he stilled missed the old life too so when you showed up he felt meaning to his life again

He basically made himself your personal golden guard and would constantly ask you questions and you felt bad so you told him that you were no god but you could be a friend although it did hurt him a bit, having a titan friend is still pretty cool to him

Living in the boiling isles when you’ve been somewhere else your entire life is hard especially if you do not like Luz but she helps you around the place and introduces you to her friends

Eda and you are like platonic co-parents best duo ever you share the same headaches I swear, and she’s a good friend to talk to ( she convinced you to drink apple juice)

The rest of the boiling isles see you kind of as a god or a new emperor of sorts so everything is cheap to you but you still give them a lot of money back (because where not horrible here people)

At first, you weren’t sure about being there but after a week you were sure you were meant to be here so you stayed with them and claimed them as your new family and home

[muffindaddystyles]

18, 19, and 40 please?🥺 maybe some smut if possible💕

19. “Take a breath honey, yes princess just like that.”

18. “Squeeze my hand if you could hear me baby.”

40. “I love you, pet. So much of it, come back, please??”

A/N: Girliessss, theysss and themsss. Sorry for being inactive :(( Missed you all so much!! Here's a blurb from mafia!h x soft subby.

Y/N had never been this bratty. She had her occasional time-outs where Harry refused to touch her for days till she broke through her ice and begged him with a drool-y sweet mouth and honeyed puppy eyes.

She knows the drill and loves the adrenaline that seeps to her toes when Harry glowers at her across the room with bolting dark intensity -- his hook of thumb in a demand to have her in his lap is enough to excite her, the punishments makes her insides shrill and makes her fall in love with her daddy more and the best part of all of it's that she wants to cherish again and again’s how adorably caring he’s once fucking her raw.

At the moment though. She isn’t being a brat on purpose. They came for a dinner (with one of the Harry's business people) and it’s all business talk, rich dicks everywhere, hush hush voices that Y/N despises and the piqued ogle of the wife on her that makes her squirmy in her seat.

She zones out into her own lil bubble for a second, imagining herself back in their cosy home comfy in Harry’s humungous overly worn hoodie, snuggling him and smooching him, pecking all those softish spots where he has runs his fingers through the night and she wants to have a delicious pizza all to herself because the food here’s the amount of worm and leaf of spinach on a worm.

She didn’t even realise that she was slipping into her subby state until she was getting all fussy about her surrounds and plucked her lipstick out smudging the crimson tip against a tissue and slides it atop Harry’s thigh from under the table,

Daddy, home?

His flicker of gaze alters from the little needy note towards his girl who’s being choosy in eating her veggies and rolling them around in boredom.

Her head perks up cutesly at the feeling of his attention on her and he suckles his wine layered lip upon the sight of her doe-blown out pupils and glossy eyes indicating him like a train's horn that she’s submerging into her submissiveness at dangerous rate when she goes all squeamish and pink cheeks at the mere touch of his knuckles against her elbow.

“Daddy, please.” She whispers into his ear impatiently squeezing his knee. About to write another note to him to stay persistent but her lipstick breaks and she flinches when it rolls under the lady’s shoe leaving a bright stain on floor.

“Behave.” Was all he muttered gruffly before throwing a nonchalant dismissive glance her way and that was the last straw for her.

It’s been hours!! All she wanted was to get home and cuddle! Is that too much too ask!?

That’s why she acted like a grump and didn’t even bid them goodbyes, waited at the lobby for him eagerly and couldn’t help but to sway with her hands clasped back and grin at the greedy thought that once he steps outside she will leap on him like an affection starved kitten.

Her wish remains a wish nevertheless when Harry passes by her with a stoic face and snaps his fingers at her, the single gesture’s enough to bead tension on her forehead.

“In the car. Right now.” He glares her sternly plucking his black leather glove to reveal his jewelled pretty hand as he reaches for the handle of the backseat door.

Y/N has decided that today she’s gonna hold her grounds and be as naughty as she possibly could to get her kisses of the day.

Sheepishly she slips inside and gives him a toothy smile whilst trying to scramble up towards to reach within the sweet distance for his lips.

The trinkets of her shiny dress makes a noise as Harry splays his calloused palm up her silken thigh, glides it all the way up her hip and keeps his grip on her to stop her from moving.

“What?” She pouts knocking her nose against his's in attempt to plant her lips atop his’s, all grabby hands for him, “You’re not havin’ any of me kisses.” He tuts, eyes dark and murky.

“But why!!?” She whines trying to cup his cheeks and just squish them awful good but he gives her a pointed look and doubles back, away from her.

“You know why, little one.” At that she gives him a nasty narrow squint of her peepers and mutters grouchily, “I hate you.”

“What did ye' just say?” He pushes her closer with one tug that elicits tiny gasp from her, his lip thin in annoyance, “I said I hate you!” She huffs crossing her arms and it makes her breast appear more plump.

In all reality, she’s too stubborn to tell him that she’s feeling terribly needy.

“Say tha’ again, I dare you.” Harry demands with tinge of surprise in his growl and she hisses in frustration adjusting the loose heavy shoulder of her dress, “I said, I hate you and this dress, ‘s so itchy. just w’na go home —-,” Her blabbing fades into a squeaky gasp upon the sharp sting of Harry’s hand against her bottom.

“What happened Sugar? Did cat caught ye’ tongue?” He grits wrapping his warm hand around her throat wanting to choke the battiness out of her, but rather it turns her into a melty puddle of a softie.

“Over my lap.” He says firmly.

“No.”

He doesn’t give her time and positions her himself horizontally on his thighs, elbows pressed into seat and raises her bum with the support of his knee, pinching her cheek teasingly to warn her.

He tries not to coo as she looks ethereal in the glittery dress that's now bunched in Harry’s fist atop her spine to expose her itty bittys and she mewls prettily when Harry spanks her asscheek watching it jiggle then does it again and again, on her last count she’s dripping down her thighs stickily.

“What a filthy little brat,” He groans adam apple bobbing from the vigour of heat spreading in his body as he inspects her wet holes with middle finger making her squirmy and whiny from his feathery touches, “Proper soaked just from gettin' spanked.” He traces the lace delicates of her panties and presses his thumb against her bundle of nerves to feel the throb from his touch.

He pulls her back up and squishes her cheeks to pucker her rosy lips, pecks it heartily, “Knows why you’re gettin’ punished baby?” His tone gentler now. Realising that she shouldn’t slip too deep before they reach home.

She snuggles into the crook of his neck and hums, guiding his hand to her sore bum to make him rub the burn he left on her ass.

“Uhmm. ‘cos didn’t behave nice, acted bad ...” Her voice slurry from desire and yearn. If it wouldn’t be for his grasp on her waist she’d have gotten off on his meaty thigh long gone, “And?” He arches his brow sceptically drawing soothing circles on her flesh.

“And that I said, I hate daddy ‘n the dress he gifted me ....” His heart thumps a bit from the statement but the rational part in him assures him that she was just bumbled about him being too distant from her.

“And what do bad girls get?”

“Punished.” She mumbles into his throat and he nods, kisses her hair and cups the nape of her neck to give it a tender squeeze.

How much she acts like a spoiled brat sometimes; he still always makes sure she’s in her comfort zone and knows why she’s getting treated that way.

“I love you, baby sweets. But .... it doesn’t mean you’d not get your punishment.” She was about to protest and throw a tantrum but the car comes to an halt right infront of the large dark doors of mansion.

Tranquil air fills with her giggly shrieks when Harry gets outside and throws her over his shoulder with an ease, his grin wicked as she squeals out “No's" grabbing onto one of the door-frames in the hallway but it’s all vain since he’s way stronger than her little grip.

Once in their room, he’s flipping her into heaps of pillows and catches her calf when she tries to crawl away in hurry.

Her eyes widen and she looks down with a pout upon hearing the rip of her dress, “Liked it.” She mummers sadly.

“Thought it was too itchy,” Harry shrugs pushing her up towards the bedhead and ducks down to speck soft kisses against her collarbones, mouth foaming at the sight of her tits spilling out of her lingerie.

“No! Was just —.. fuck ...” She keens out a moan bucking her core to grind against his thigh when he nooks his knuckle between her sloppy pussy lips and twists her panties pushing them up scruffily into her mound feeling the flutter of her clitoris, the sheer fabric of it giving the right amount of friction to get her to an orgasm.

Her wet gasps and moans fogs into Harry’s mouth as he kisses her with unyielding roughness, hot bubbles popping in her belly ready to spread the nice feeling inside her, holding her down when he knows what he’s gonna do next will turn her into batshit crazy.

He pulls back. Both. His hand and his mouth away from her.

She blinks, with a lazy smile first then the realization dawns upon her and she’s grappling for his sides but he takes her wrists and pins them down.

“Daddy no!” She growls a whine and he just sits on his heels and admires the mess he created out of her, flustered and sheened in sweat, all soft and pudging to litter her skin with marks and bites, his cock warming up in his pants, “Please daddy I want you.” The whites of her eyes enviable and glassy from the frustrated tears that are collecting at her waterline.

Though, Harry stays adamant because those innocent coy eyes are her best weapon and ties her wrists to the bedpost without saying a word to her.

“You brought this on y'self, baby.” He tugs the bound to make sure it’s not too tight and moves back to get rid of his pants, his prick bloated and throbbing from ridges, slaps against his lower belly it’s head coated with precum.

“Now you’re g'na watch me jerk myself off and cover ye' pretty tummy with my cum, might lick it off from you.” She shivers at his words. Toes curling as she silently pleads with a parted mouth and barely open eyelids.

His nostrils flares, howling groan slipping through his lips as he spits in his palm and wraps it around his fat girth slicking his fist up and all the way down to give some relief to his balls.

He dips down and sucks onto her lower lip, “Knows your safe word right?” He asks shoulders jolting when he slops the bulbous crown of his prick against her clit in slow circles.

“Yes, yellow.” She breathes out delicately hoping he slips into her soon but Harry has other plans as he squeezes himself more, swiping the dollops of white thickness from the crown of his prick and brings his thumb to stuff her mouth shut with that.

“What a greedy kitten.” He tuts in mock when she eagerly swirls her tongue around his thumb creating soft sucking noises, she gags around his digit, eyeballs rolling to her skull when Harry slides her damp panties away and strokes his cock against her drippy hole.

“Hmm. Feels good.” He husks pushing into her, but not stuffing her full and that makes her whimper. She glides her feet around his spine to push him into her and her squishy sloppy walls tries to swallow him whole.

Everything just feels too hot and overwhelming. Him fondling his shaft from where he isn’t soaked into her warmth and her tiny whines and whimpers as he teases and edges her.

“Daddy ‘m sorry!” She squeaks out breathlessly clamping down onto him, “I bet you’re.” He moans out, that one sweaty curl dangling and tickling her forehead.

“That’s the most prettiest sound I’ve heard.” At his praise she just turns into a puddle and wiggles for more.

“You’re g'na make me cum.” He kisses his teeth and she digs her feet into his back not knowing if she’s allowed to come too and not having a voice to ask for his permission.

She gulps. Eyelids fluttering. Her cheeks blushy and peachy, listening to his deep moans that whirls within the pit of his chest as he fills her pussy with warm ribbons of cum that sticks to her already soppy walls and then pulls out to empty himself on her tummy as he promised.

Moments later the room echoes with her treacly yearning whimpers and blubbers of Harry’s name as he licks her juices off and the his own cum that oozes out of her whenever he pushes his middle finger inside her cunt.

..

“No!” That’s why they’ve discussed it before hand, her safe word. Harry knows his baby girl and that she gives up too early, gets too overwhelmed before she could actually enjoy the good part all of it although she has a potential to be more bearing than that.

They’ve lost the count of her orgasms.

The overestimation thingy.

Harry thinks it could be the best punishment for her.

She cramps her thighs around his wrist to make him stop but he spreads them wider apart, “You could gimme another one princess, knows y’could.” He curls his fingers to caress that spongey button inside her that makes her writhe like a leaf and it definitely did.

“Shit.” Eventually she gives into him basking in the pleasure of it -- sinking down on his fingers and grinds her clit against his knuckles, her cum from her previous orgasms glistening on his skin.

“Fuck already squirting.” She didn’t realize that, too floaty in her subspace and the ecstasy until she feels his fingers rubbing inside her again.

“Daddy no, no, no ... too sensitive!” She cries out cramming her legs around his waist and pushes his chest away with her knees but Harry keeps pummelling them deeper, scissoring them and adding two more, her thighs shakes terribly a burn spreads in her limbs as the sensational craving envelopes her once again.

“Yes, yes, yes. Don’t stop, please!” She shouts out whimperishly making Harry smile and he smooches a kiss to her forehead, pressing his chest flushed to hers and cradles her jaw to make her look at him, “Cum fo’ me. You’re me good fuckin' girl – g'na come right?” She bobs her head quickly fresh tears gliding down her cheeks and Harry wipes them away immediately.

She’s flying high like a kite. Wanting him all. His hands. His touch. His cock. His cum anything she could get out of him.

His love. His attention. His constant assurances and praises, affection, tenderness and his kisses and loads ‘n loads of tiny kisses She’s always needy for that.

“’M your good girl!” She sobs out in high pitch grappling onto restraints and Harry feels this dire urge to protect his little one at all costs, “Yes you’re.” He coos brushing her hair away from her eyes and let her hide her face into his neck as she turns stiff like an arrow and creampies around his fingers, lips smushed against his cheek.

“Take a breath, honey. Yes princess just like that.” He massages her shoulder and pecks it to calm her down upon feeling her heartbeat go wild after she comes.

She shakes in his arms whilst Harry showers her in kisses lining himself against her entrance and sheathes into her in a slick, their moans melting as he buries himself deep till her belly and cum spurts out from her cunt with his each hard thrust and it drips down her bum and onto already splotched sheets.

White dots wafts past her eyelids, arms shaking and lip wobbling as she feels it hit like a train. Getting pooled into utter bliss of many orgasms, feeling a rupturing dose of euphoria cocooning her.

She feels like she’s on paradise and somebody’s calling her through the white noise but she’s unable to respond all she could do’s blabber nonsense while trying to stop squirming.

Then she gets familiar to that gentle voice, the cosiness of that hand holding onto her free ones now and the softness of those lips against her forehead.

“Squeeze my hand if you could hear me baby.” He gets anxious a little bit when she stays droopy and unresponsive like a sunflower at nights.

A huge grin adorns his after climax blissed out features when she obeys him and gives a lil squish to his palm, “There y’go baby sugar. Y'alright honey?” He kisses the tip of her nose when she just blinks up at him weepily.

“Daddy.” Her voice scratchy and awfully feeble from all of the screaming and moaning.

“No daddy. ‘S just Harry, I love you pet. So much of it come back to me, please?” He almost pleads corking his mind to think what would bring her back from her fragile state since she has never slipped past from him this deep ever.

She whines at the hollowness she feels in her tummy when he pulls out catefully from her with a squelching noise and hisses even when the sheets rustles against her folds, “So sensitive.” Harry murmurs trailing honeyed kisses into the softest flesh of her thighs.

“Yes daddy, but want you!” Harry’s brows shoots up into shock and he slips his forearm under her to hug her tight, “’M right her bubba.” She cuddles into him and yawns fumbling with his sides listening to his pacific breathing.

“Guess we gotta give this little one a sleepy bath.” He mutters into her hair, nails scratching soothingly up her neck and twirling her downsy baby curls.

“I love you.” She rasps out rubbing the sleepiness in her eyes with the back of her hand, “I love you too -- would you like if I lit up some candles in the bathroom? Y’favourite ones?” He thinks it might help her get out of her subby state.

“No. Just you.” She pouts battling the sleepiness away and clings to him when he walks them to bathroom and sits them into the cold tub, he wrapped her around him in a way she doesn’t come in contact with the coldness of it as they wait for it fill with bubbling water (Y/N was too sensitive and clingy that he knew if he’d away parted away she’d have cried endlessly.)

No words were exchanged as she almost slept on his chest and drooled all over him.

“Cutie.” Harry giggles softly pecking her parted snoring lips and cleans himself and her gently.

Gets his most worn out clothes, the one that could tell another person in a beat that she belongs to him from the smell alone.

She slings her thigh around his waist and smashes her face under his chin, canoodling into him with a little tired purr.

He was petting her head and running his hand over her back that when she mumbled into her sleep, rubbing her cheek up and down his chest, Harry stopped and ducked down to kiss her forehead feeling love bursting through his insides.

“I love you, Harry.” Was what she mumbled. He's just too much in love with his soft little button.

[nishisun]

best part ☁️/ 002. first breakfast together

masterlist | previous | next

Kuroo places his phone on the side next to him and stretches his arms a bit, noticing that your head is placed softly in his chest. She’d kill me if she woke up like this right now.

He can’t help but stare at your sleeping figure, admiring the way you’re sleeping so peacefully. His arms are placed awkwardly by his sides on the bed, scared that you may wake up if he places any arms around you. He doesn’t want this moment to end.

He knows he’s the reason why you two aren’t together and yes, he does regret it. He regrets it so much. He’s never one to do something so impulsive but with the way things ended for the both of you, he’s just grateful you’re even talking to him again. Lord knows he wouldn’t be as kind as you have been with him.

He knows he’s the reason why you two aren’t together and yes, he does regret it. He regrets it so much. He’s never one to do something so impulsive but with the way things ended for the both of you, he’s just grateful you’re even talking to him again. Lord knows he wouldn’t be as kind as you have been with him.

He knows he’s the reason why you two aren’t together and yes, he does regret it. He regrets it so much. He’s never one to do something so impulsive but with the way things ended for the both of you, he’s just grateful you’re even talking to him again. Lord knows he wouldn’t be as kind as you have been with him.

He wants this moment to last forever.

But, the truth hurts, and so does reality because when he feels you shift, his heart nearly stops.

Not only do you shift, you’re awake now, barely awake until you look around and realize you were sleeping on Kuroo. You look up at him and he already knows he’s a dead man.

You’re glaring at him now, he’s trying to muster up the courage to even explain himself because your death stare has that much of an effect.

“You pervert!” you nearly screech.

“I woke up and this is how you were! I didn’t want to bother you. I know you had a long day yesterday!” Kuroo raises both of his hands up in defensive, and you roll your eyes at him before rolling to the side of the bed so you were finally off of him and laying down facing his opposite direction.

“Okay.”

“Okay? You’re not mad..?”

“What time is it?”you ask, still facing the opposite direction. He glances at you before reaching for his phone to check the time.

“It’s 7:04”

“Perfect. I need to make Takeru breakfast before he wakes up.”

“Why does he eat so early?”

“Kuroo, what does that even mean?”

“Smells good in here,” Kuroo walks in the kitchen, a towel draped on his shoulders with slightly damp hair caused from sweat. He walks over and hugs you behind the waist, it would’ve been a romantic gesture if you were actually together, but you’re not, and you nearly screech at him.

“My God, go take a bath.” you mutter, he doesn’t ignore the way your cheeks are turning into a bright shade of pink. “Where’d you go anyway?”

“I see you’re still acting cold towards me.” You glare at him, and he raises his hands up before laughing. “I’m kidding, I went for a run.” He shrugs, grabbing a piece a banana. “You live in a pretty nice neighborhood, so that’s good for the kid.”

“What do you even know about kids?” you scoff.

“To be honest, absolutely nothing. I know they need food and shelter. And clothing too, I guess.” he looks over at you and notices you’re scrambling eggs and he admires how you look so concentrated even when doing the simplest task. “But I wanna learn more about kids, more about Takeru. He seems like a nice kid.”

“Oh, he is. I raised him right.”

“I mean, of course. It is you we’re talking about.” He agrees, he doesn’t even know how much of an effect that had on you. “While I was running this one lady stopped me and asked for a photo so she could send it to her son.”

“I always forget you’re famous.” you huff a laugh as you continue to fry the eggs.

“Well, not famous, just rich.” you roll your eyes, “To others, I’m a young and successful CEO, but to you and friends and family, I’m just regular Tetsuro.” He takes a bite into his banana. “Remember that one time in college, when we planned on majoring in the same subject just so we could have the same job?” You immediately chuckle, remembering the event.

“We were so naive.” It’s Kuroo’s turn to chuckle, he looks over to you and grins when he sees you smiling to yourself. It’s the first time in a while he’s seen you even let out a laugh in front of him. You usually keep to yourself. “Things were different, back then.”

“They were,” He crosses his arms with the banana still in his hand. “Hey, what do you do now, by the way?”

“Well, I’m a finance manager for a museum. I just file reports and long-term financial goals and other stuff.”

“Holy shit, that’s amazing, Y/N! Heard they pay really well.” He sounds so genuine, you can’t even look him in the eye.

“Yeah, it’s nothing really.” You shrug off, but you can’t help the way your heart swells. He’s always been so supportive.

“Are you kidding me? That’s literally like boss girl shit. You’re literally bad ass.” You laugh at the nickname and he joins in with you. You look up at him and smile again, about to thank him until you hear a small pair of footsteps walking down the halls.

It was Takeru, he was rubbing both of his eyes while walking, which was blocking his vision, He’s just about to run into a box, thankfully Kuroo swiftly picks him up and places him in his feeding chair.

“Woah there, bud! You gotta be more careful, okay?” The boy nods shyly, still very unfamiliar with Kuroo. Kuroo grins at the toddler brightly and Takeru smiles back and you could’ve sworn right then and there your heart melted. You turn your head quickly, acting as if you didn’t just witness the scene that has just made you soft.

This man is going to be the death of you. It’s been less than a day and you’re already softening to him.

“Good morning, baby. How was your night?” You coo, walking towards your son with his plate of scrambled eggs and toast with sliced apples on the side. You had cut up the bread into small pieces and didn’t put any spread on it because Takeru is a picky eater.

“Good!” He nods aggressively, rubbing his hands together in excitement. “Thanks for the food, mama!”

“You’re welcome, honey.” you give him a quick peck on the cheek. You turn to Kuroo, who’s gives you a smile and you smile back. “I made pancakes and kept them in the oven so they’d be warm.”

“Why oven?” he laughs and you playfully hit him on his chest.

“Because, Kuroo. I read it somewhere. And,” you open the oven lifting the pan from the oven to reveal the pancakes, which were still steaming hot. “It obviously worked.”

“I’m impressed, you used to suck at cooking.”

Now all settled at the dining table, it’s quiet, Takeru speaks up every now and then to ask you a question to which you reply to and it’s as if he’s completely ignoring Kuroo’s presence. Kuroo has already texted you, asking why Takeru wasn’t asking Kuroo any questions and you simply explained that he’ll come around since he’s a shy kid.

“You should come stay at my place. The both of you.” He says suddenly, you nearly choke on your food, shaking your head in disapproval before Kuroo interrupts you. “Wait, let me explain.”

“I’m listening.”

“I feel like it would be more convenient, you know? You have to drive an hour to your job, which is literally like a 10 minute drive from mine, I’m literally always home, so I could watch Takeru, so it would be son and father bond—“

You cut him off with a loud cough, and motion your head towards Takeru, who cocks his head to the side and Kuroo silently apologizes.

“I need to be there when you’re with him.” you state, taking a bite of your eggs.

“Why?”

“Do you trust yourself with kids?”

He opens he mouth to say something, but then closes it.

“Exactly.”

“So.. You’re gonna move in?”

“Can you not word it like that.. and no, That’s too fast. Not to mention, it’s weird. I work at home aswell, Kuroo. I only go for meetings once or twice a week, so it just doesn’t make sense.”

“Okay,” He swallows the food in his mouth “Who babysits Takeru?

“Kenma, when he can. It’s either that or I hire a babysitter.”

“A babysitter? You don’t have like.. one who’s long-term?”

You glance at Takeru for a brief second and then sigh “No, there’s not many of those types of babysitters near us.” you mutter.

“Perfect! See? Another reason why you should just move in. It’s nothing more than two parents co-parenting.”

“Kuroo, I understand your intentions, but it’s just not going to work.. I can’t.” you sigh once again and Takeru looks up at you with concern and you smile reassuringly at him. “That’s too much..”

“Well, I don’t see what the problem is here.”

“This,” You motioned your hands between you and Kuroo “This is the problem. I’ve been taking care of Takeru by myself, and I’m not saying I don’t want you guys to have a bond, but it’s not a smart idea for me and Takeru to practically move in with you. I honestly don’t feel comfortable doing that. Besides, I love it here. I worked hard for this house.”

“Right, I’m sorry.” Kuroo looks at you in awe before giving you a small nod.

“It’s fine, I know you just want to get closer with him, but it’s gonna take time. We can’t rush things. So let’s take things slow between the two of you, okay?”

“Okay.”

taglist: @coconut-dreamz @maadaaaa @mkkhaikyuu @tekushiii @callmekda @samkysnks @wild-strawberry-fields @crazysocklovingfangirl @jesstetsuro @xo-lovelyreign-xo @lilith412426 @erensnubs @syaziahvg @tsukkiswifeey @ysatrap @candybabey @rinsangel @elianetsantana @calumsfringe @rintarovibes @emsdesu @sailorstrawberi @its-the-aerieljeane @succulentmom @heroesfan101 @moonhere @geektastic84 @emiyummy @bakudummy @schleepyflocci

[wonderwomanfantasy]

Sub Tsukishima

as much as I do love pegging this does not make an appearance this one unfortunately. also two tsuki posts in a row whoops

Tsukishima x Fem! Reader

Warnings: Grunge, public sex, shower sex, thigh fucking, Fem dom, brat taming, cum play, cream pie, this is rancid 😌

Word count: 1,700 (about)

Summary: Mud volleyball leads to shower sex leads to sub tsukishima

You could hardly recognize Tsukishima he was so caked in mud. only his glasses remained clean. 

“I hate you, I’m never doing this again,” he snapped. running a dirty hand through his equally mucked up hair. 

“Oh fuck off you had fun,” you said. you were just as dirty as him. sure, maybe mud volleyball wasn’t the cleanest sport, and yeah the water was freezing but it sure was exhilarating. you caught the collar of his jersey and pulled him down kissing him, and spreading a little bit of of mud on his face. 

“you’re disgusting,” he scoffed but you could see the blush on his cheeks. 

“you love me,” you cooed and he didn’t deny it. 

“Love you or not there is no way I’m letting you get mud all over my car, we’ll have to hose you down like a dog,” he snickered, making you roll your eyes. 

“Oh and I suppose it’s fine if you muddy up the car is it? come take a shower with me jack ass,” and you tugged him to the locker room. 

Technically the showers were coed, and the two of you were alone and Tsuki had seen you naked before. But a blush still creeped up his neck and colored his cheeks when you stripped your shirt and sports bra off. you reached into one of the stalls and turned the water on stepping back to let it heat up. 

“Are you just going to stand there staring like a pervert Tsuki or are you going to take a shower? you teased stripping off your spandex shorts so you were completely naked in front of him. 

“shut up,” he snapped, too distracted by your bare body to come up with anything more biting. 

“Oh I get it you want to shower with me but you’re too embarrassed to say so, is that it?” you teased pulling back the curtain a second time and stepping into the small shower stall beckoning him in. Tsukishima didn’t bother to argue stripping off his own clothes and joining you. 

The shower wasn’t built for two people, not that you minded clinging close to your boyfriend. 

“Stay close so I can see you,” he murmured taking you in his arms. 

“you’re filthy,” he sighed his hands trailing over your arms scraping the mud and grit off of you. you smiled and kissed him again. The water cascaded over both of your bodies warming you. 

You ghosted your hands over his pecs teasing his nipples with your nails drawing a small moan from his lips.

“Careful Kei someone might hear then we’ll get in trouble,” you teased, It was true, it was likely someone else could walk in any minute and interrupt anything nasty the two of you did. 

“shut up it’s your fault for getting me all riled up,” he complained, you looked down and saw his hardening cock 

“awe baby you got hard from just a little kissing?” you asked sweetly.

“It’s you’re fault, I can’t help myself,” he growled his hands going to your hips and pulling you so you were flush against him. 

“of course I get hard when a pretty girl touches me,” he sighed against your neck. 

“like I couldn’t make you cum hands free,” you scoffed. Kei smirked 

“is that a promise baby?” while he was distracted you pushed him up against the linoleum wall catching his wrists behind his back and pinning him in place. 

“if you behave,” you threatened Tsuki smirked

“I love it when you try to dom me,” he teased, you didn’t bother responding, you knew he’d be begging for you any second, like the big brat he was. 

with one hand you grabbed his throat keeping him in place with the other you reached for the showerhead. 

it was one of the detachable ones, you took it off the handle and adjusted the setting so the water came out in one continuous stream.  and lowered the showerhead to his throbbing length making him gasp. You clamped your hand down around his throat and his knees buckled. 

“awe dose that feel good baby?” you teased teasing his cock head with the nozzle. he clenched his jaw his hips bucking involuntarily precum leaking from the head and down his shaft.

You moved your hand from his neck to his hair tugging on the short blond hair that was still dirty with mud. you pulled hard making his eyes rolls back in his head a deep guttural moan ripping from his throat sending a rush of heat to your core. 

“you’re such a fucking slut,” you laughed, tugging on his hair again.

“Still think I can’t make you cum like this?” you teased, 

“fuck (y/n)-” he moaned 

“That wasn’t an answer Kei, do you want me to keep teasing you like this until you cum or do you want me to really fuck you, baby? I need you to say it,” you demanded taking the showerhead away from his sex. his eyes went wide and he groaned at the lack of friction. 

“you didn’t make me cum,” he pointed out, breathing heavily, his cheeks flushed. 

“You didn’t ask permission,” you shot back. you shifted closer closing your thighs around his cock shifting jerking him off with the fat of your legs, and hooked the shower head back in place freeing up both hands. 

“f-fuck,” he moaned, and just like that his resolve crumbled  “Jesus (y/n) I want you to fuck me I want to cum,” he whined. He could be so polite when he wanted to be.  you pulled back submerging yourself fully in the shower’s stream and leaving Tsukishima alone pressed against the wall, a pained look on his face.

“I don’t know baby, sure you begged once but you’ve been a real brat the rest of the time, and I don’t think you’ve earned it,” you said squeezing out some of the provided soap and running it through your hair casually, after all you did need a shower you were filthy, the translucent arousal slipping down your thighs not withstanding. 

Tsukishima knew he could pounce on you and take what he wanted, you probably wouldn’t even mind if he bit his way up your neck and shoved his cock deep inside your wet cunt over and over again until he came. But it wouldn’t be as good that way. 

Hot shame bubbled up in his throat as he tried to speak, his eyes fixated on the dirt cascading off of your perfect body. He wanted you so bad but he wanted you to take him. it was embarrassing to say but some how he managed. 

“p-please?”

you smiled “theres my good boy,”

Tsuki went to your arms kissing you feverishly, getting called a good boy was like fucking cocaine. You took his dick in his hand pumping it slowly.

“Please,” he moaned again as you kissed his Adam's apple. the word was getting easier to say, and more importantly, it was making you do what he wanted you hooked one leg over his hip and slid his cock inside of you easily. he moaned at the feeling. Tsuki knew that if he weren’t queit someone would hear but he couldn’t stop the jolts of sound that left him with each thrust of your hips, your cunt always felt so good around him.

You stuffed two, clean, fingers into his mouth gagging him. Tsukishima was only too happy to suck. 

“You feel so good Tsuki, you fuck me so good,” you priased quietly your free hand running through his hair shaking loose some mud. 

“god you’re fucking filthy I can’t belive I let such a dirty boy have his way with my pussy,” you sighed kissing his neck again, you could feel his cock throb inside of you, it didn’t seem to matter if you were condemning him or praising him your voice was enough to send him closer to the edge. 

“But you’re going to be a good boy about it aren’t you? yeah you’re gonna wait for me to tell you it’s alright to cum then your going to lick my pussy clean because you love me and you’re so fucken desperate to cum you’re willing to do anything I say isn’t that right baby?” you demanded and he said a muffled yes around your fingers wich made you smile

“your cock is so hard it’s fucking throbbing Kei, you’re going to cum if I keep this up aren’t you?” another slurred yes. 

“it’s okay baby go ahead and cum I want to feel it,” 

No sooner than the words had left your mouth he bucked forward nearly knocking you off your feet and you felt his orgasm hit his semen filled you, before dripping down your thighs when he pulled out and being washed away by the still-warm spray of water. 

Tsukishima’s legs gave out and he had to catch himself against the wall as he tried to steady his breathing. you went back to washing yourself waiting for the Bratty Tsuki to return. 

“I cannot belive we fucked in a public locker room,” he said sounding disgusted. 

“would you have preferred it if i rode you in the mud pit?” you teased, you examined yourself and found you were mostly clean, you couldn’t say the same for your boyfriend however. Mud still caked his arms and thighs it was stuck in his blonde hair and there was even a bit on his ear.

“get out,” he ordered and with a giggle you complied wrapping your towel around yourself as you left the shower leaving him alone. 

“after I get out of this shower this never happened,” he said shutting the curtain, you rolled your eyes and started digging through your gym bag for the clean clothes you’d brought. Just then a thin river of semen ran down from your cunt to your knee. Guess you weren’t as clean as you thought. 

[imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl]

Love On-Set (Pt. 09 of 10)

Pairing: Dacre Montgomery X Reader

Word count: 2.9 K

Summary: You knew acting on Stranger Things season 3 would be a challenge, and you also knew, from the start, you'd have to work closely with Dacre Montgomery. But is wasn't a big deal for you, since this is your job and you're determined to act professionally. You had it all figured out, or so you thought, until the moment you were out face to face with Dacre. Then, this job became a lot harder than it was supposed to be, since you can't seem to focus whenever you're around Dacre. And you'll have to be around him a lot until the end of production.

<- Previous part (08)

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{Dacre Montgomery Masterlist}

{Stranger Things Masterlist}

×

The Heart Is A Wild Creature

The good part is that you passed out more from exhaustion than from the metal bar hitting your face, and the wound on the apple of your cheek is small. The bad part is that you have a concussion, and the doctor said you have to rest for ten days. Which means the shooting will be frozen for all this time. You tried telling them you're fine, because you feel fine putting aside the headache, but James said he won't put you through all the stress of shooting at the risk of getting you more hurt than you are now.

So there's nothing else to do. After you shower and change out of Amy's outfit, you head out of the dressing room happy to find only Dacre by the door and not everyone else. They were pretty worried, talking all at the same time and pissing off the doctor more than once. Giving Dacre a small smile, you watch as he takes the bag from your hand.

“How are you feeling?” He asks, a hand on the small of your back as he guides you through the set.

“The headache is fading thanks to the painkillers but every now and then I feel dizzy.” Shrugging your shoulders, you touch the small wound on your cheek. “Who would guess such a small thing would give me a freaking concussion.“

“James said someone miscalculated something.” You can see your trailer at a distance, and you brace yourself when a cold wind blows. “He was mad. It could get someone badly hurt, maybe even killed.”

“I bet he fired the guy.”

“On the spot.”

When you get to your trailer, you go straight to the bed, resisting the urge to just throw yourself on it, and instead just lying down carefully. “A freaking concussion. Can you believe that?” Hugging a pillow, you lie on your stomach. Dacre soon joins you, lying on his side so he can look at you.

“You scared the hell out of me,” Dacre says, and you move to be on your side too. In the last two weeks or so, you've been sharing his hotel room, as well as his bed. So you're used to this proximity, but it doesn't mean you don't feel a little nervous.

“I got pretty scared too.” You mutter, looking at your hands. “Ten days off. It's way too much.”

“Yeah, I was kinda hoping the shootings would be over soon.” His tone changes and you furrow your eyebrows. You want it to end too, to get some well-deserved vacation after these rough months. You don't even know if you'll be called for the next season, since Amy's ending is still a mystery. James won't tell until you have to shoot the scene. The same goes for Billy.

“Why? I mean, I want some vacation too, but... It sounds like you have some other reason.” It might be sleep overwhelming you, or the trailer that decided to spin around, but you move closer to him, hiding your face on the crook of his neck. “You're warm.”

“Let me...” Trying not to move too much, Dacre pulls the blankets, wrapping them around both of you. “I just want us to go back to LA. So we could have, Uhm... A normal life, you know. Go out on dates without worrying about rushing back to a hotel.”

He's right. Going out now is always a mess. You barely have time, and you're either rushing to get to set or to the hotel and somehow manage to get some sleep and be well-rested for the next day. “It would be nice, but...” You can't help but think about it. What you have with Dacre is good, is amazing, but it's not official. People on the internet are talking about it since there are new pictures of you two together being posted on Instagram on a daily basis. But that's them, and this is you. Two different things entirely.

“What?” He mutters, and you wonder how long it'll take until you fall asleep.

“I was just thinking that... We're... You know...” Your cheeks are burning, and you're thankful he can't see it now.

“You know you can tell me everything.” His voice sounds distant now, and you only mutter something in response, your head spinning a little as you breathe in deeply, sleep overcoming you.

“Yeah... We should be dating by now, but that's ok.” Whispering, you lazily pull the blankets closer. “But I'll get some sleep now. Love you.” Then you let your body sink into a peaceful, calming sleep.

•••

You're aware of the sunlight, coming through the window and making you close your eyes tighter. You don't want to wake up yet, and since the first thing that comes to your mind was that metal thing hitting you in the face, you know you won't be shooting anything today. So why bother? It's probably pretty early yet. Pulling the blanket over your head, some undistinguished chattering fills your ears, and you furrow your eyebrows. Who's being so loud this early in the morning? And why are they hanging around so close to your trailer?

“Oh, my.” A low voice says, and it is very, very close. But it can't be Dacre. Dacre hasn't even moved yet.

Slowly, you push the blanket away, raising your head from Dacre's chest just to check what's going on. But when you see a bunch of people by the end of the bed, standing like a small crowd of idiots, you're suddenly wide awake, sitting up straight, a yell caught up on your throat as your sleepy brain struggles to process what's going on. “What. The hell!” You shout at your co-stars, who also seem to be a little surprised. Joe and Gaten have their eyes wide, Natalia is just smirking, and Noah and Charlie are exchanging a glance. You're still working on why they have this stupid look on their faces when the mattress moves as Dacre sits up as well. Then you already know.

“I knew something was going on but... Guys...” Joe mumbles and your eyes get when Noah picks up his phone, turning the camera at you.

“Gimme that!” You yell, crawling through the bed and grabbing Noah's phone as he tries to set it free from your hands. It doesn't take much until you're both laughing, trying to make each other fall.

“Hey, hey. Both of you.” Dacre raises his voice, and soon enough he's separating the two of you, but you smile victoriously since Noah's phone ends up in your possession. “You can't move like that. You have a concussion, remember?”

“I'm alright.” As you say it, you feel yourself losing balance. Holding on to Dacre, you shrug your shoulders. “A little dizzy, but besides that, I'm ok.” Quickly, you go through Noah's camera, happily noticing he didn't have time to take any pictures. “Here. Better luck next time.”

“I'll be ready.” He says with a smile.

“Hey, my people. The van is waiting.” Millie shouts and moving to the side a little, you see as she opens the door and comes in. So that's how they got in. You didn't lock the door last night.

“Millie you're not gonna believe it.” Noah starts, running off, away from where you could reach.

“Well, we just came to say that the van is ready to take us back to the hotel.” Joe, being the idiot he always is, teasing the hell out of you, says in a fake, mean voice. “You're very welcome.”

Rolling your eyes, you wait for them to leave before gathering your stuff. You decide to take it all back to the hotel since it'll be ten days until you have to get back here. You also wait for Dacre to do the same, and you're happy to know that nobody noticed his things are here too. Then you head to the van, holding on his arm because he basically forced you too, despite you feeling completely well. You both take the usual sit, on the back, ignoring people's stare. Well, you're ignoring and blushing, trying not to let them see it.

But something is off. All the way to the hotel, Dacre is silent, thoughtful. When you're nearby, just about to enter the parking lot, you lightly elbow him. “Hey... Is everything alright?”

He nods, giving you a small smile. “Yes, it's just... Remember when I said you talk in your sleep?”

“Remember when I told you not to listen?” You feel relieved when he giggles.

“Well, it's more like when you're almost falling asleep. It's cute, actually.” As he speaks, the van stops and you move to get out. “But you said something important and we need to talk about it.”

“Ok.” Swallowing hard, you nervously run a hand through your hair.

In the elevator, you keep up with the small talk, managing even to make sassy comments at Francesca. But when you get to the hotel room, you can't help but try to remember what you might have said, but nothing comes to your head. Biting your lip and taking a deep breath, you leave your luggage on the hall that leads to the bedroom and moves to sit on the couch. Dacre joins you soon after, and when he opens his mouth to speak, your phone starts ringing.

“Sorry. I'll just hang up.”

“It's alright. You can answer it.”

“Are you sure?” Holding your phone towards him so he can see it's Natalia. Whenever Natalia calls, it's not just to say something.

“Yeah.”

Squinting your eyes at his expression, you answer the call, bringing the phone to your ear. “Hey, Nat. What's up?”

“Where the hell are you?” She basically yells, and there's a laughing Millie on the background, saying something you can't understand. “We knocked on your door and this completely random person showed up.”

“Oh...” You haven't told them yet, but you probably should. Giving Dacre a glance, he furrows his eyebrows, a question on his eyes. “I... I kinda checked out of my room and then checked in to another room.” The sentence sounds a little confusing, and you roll your eyes at Dacre's fun expression.

“And why haven't you said anything? Where are you?”

“Uhm...” Looking down, you feel the heat spreading through your cheeks. “Do I really have to say...?”

There's a moment of silence before Natalia takes a deep breath. “She's in Dacre's room.” She mutters, probably to Millie before hanging up. They won't let this go. Ever.

“I think they're coming here.”

“You think? I'm sure.”

“Dacre, I–”

“Hey, relax, alright.” He cuts you short, leaning closer to place a sweet kiss on your lips. “I promise what I want to talk about isn't bad.” You breathe out, relieved. “So let's see what they want and we can talk later. We kinda have a lot of time in the next ten days.”

“Alright.” Taking a deep breath you move to get the door, and when you open it, Natalia, Millie, and Sadie are coming from the elevator. “Hey, girls.”

“I can't believe you let me knock on someone else's door.” Natalia starts as Millie gives you a meaningful stare before just walking inside with Sadie.

“I didn't know they'd give my room to someone so quickly.”

“Since when you've been sleeping here?”

“A while...” When you try to remember exactly when, your head starts pounding a little harder, so you just give up.

“Look, I was promised a group reunion, movie night, and room service.” Sadie raises her voice from the inside, and both you and Nat move to the living room. “Can we get this going?”

Sadie got what she was promised. A few moments later everyone is here, fighting about which movies you'll be watching and then fighting over what you'll eat. Dacre has to tell them to keep it low every time someone's voice starts rising, but you wouldn't mind if it wasn't for the headache.

Hours later, after three movies already, Gaten joins Millie on an Instagram live. And of course, since you're the newest couple, even though you're not official, she turns the camera at you and Dacre, seated on the couch with his arm around your shoulders. She talks about the accident and how Dacre, apparently too far from you, ran like a lightning bolt when he saw the metal bar hitting you. And you really hope her phone camera won't get that you're blushing.

“Alright, people. I love you, but I gotta go...” She waves at the camera, smiling and spinning around so everyone has a chance to wave too. “But let's end this with a kiss from our OTP. What do you think?”

It doesn't take a genius to know who she's talking about. “If we do this, it'll become public so we should just–”

“Look at them. So cozy together.” She sing-songs, gesturing for you to get it done. “C'mon. Kiss the girl.”

You were just about to protest, to say anything to make her let it go when Dacre's hand come to your chin, pulling you close until his lips connect to yours. You weren't planning on kissing him right back, since it'd be better to just keep it simple, but it's stronger than you. And there's this thing in your head that turns everything off the moment Dacre's lips touch yours. So you're quickly deepening the kiss, a hand holding the collar of his shirt.

“Uhm... Alright, alright.” Millie says, and it makes you pull away with your cheeks burning. “That was even better than I thought, so... Goodbye, everyone.” When she ends the live, she gives you a stare and a smirk, to which you roll your eyes. “When are the two of you becoming official? I expect a formal announcement.”

“You're very nosy, did you know that?” Dacre says and Millie shows off her tongue. “Well, I don't know if you guys have any plans for tonight, but I do, so...”

“Are you kicking us out?” Gaten asks, crossing his arms.

“Good to know you got it.”

“They're planning a romantic night, that's so cute,” Sadie adds, making everyone mutter something stupid at the two of you.

Even so, it takes half an hour for the last conversations to end and for the whole group to leave. When you close the door after saying goodbye to Noah and Finn, you make your way back to the living room.

“Alright. I'm dying over here so let's just talk. What did I say?”

“You said you love me.” Dacre just bursts out from his place, standing by the coffee table.

You don't know what to say. It's too early for that... Right? Even though you have this feeling, it's way too early to let him know that. Biting your lip, you look down, unable to sustain his stare. “Oh...” Nervously, you run a hand through your hair. “I'm sorry. I know it's too early for this, I just–”

“Do you?” He cuts you off, sitting beside you.

“Do I what?” It's a stupid question, but it comes out anyway.

“Do you love me?” With his index finger under your chin, Dacre lifts up your head until you're staring into this amazing ocean blue eyes.

There's no other possible answer, just the truth. The overwhelming, crushing truth. You've been trying to hold back your feelings, but the heart is a wild creature, or so they say, and it wants what it wants. It loves who it loves, and nobody can control it. “Yes.” You mutter, voice weak and low because wild hearts can also be broken, and that's the last thing you want. “I know it's too early to say that, but when I'm sleepy the words just come out and I can't control them.”

A laugh escapes his lips. “I've been telling myself to hold back. That it was too early to call it love but I guess it's just how it's supposed to be with us.”

“What... What do you mean?”

“I'm completely, wholeheartedly in love with you and I never thought it was even possible to love someone this much.” Dacre cups your cheeks, placing a delicate kiss on your nose. “I know it happened fast, and quite unusual if you ask me, but it was perfect. The truth is that the only reason why I went to talk to you on your first day on set was because I couldn't stop thinking about you since we shoot that scene for season 2.” As he speaks, a smile comes to your lips. Not in a million years you'd think you'd catch Dacre's eyes. “It took a hell of a long time, and that love at first sight thing was wearing off but when I saw you again... It came back like an avalanche. So I had to go and talk to you and ever since... You're everything I can think about.”

“So...” Biting back a smile, you wrap your arms around his neck. “What happens when two people are in love with each other?”

“Correct me if I'm wrong but they start dating.”

“They start dating.” You repeat, standing on your toes.

“So it's official now.” He states. “We can change our Facebook status.”

“Dacre, we don't have a Facebook account.” Giggling, you remind him, your lips brushing on his.

“Then I'll make one just so I can update my status.”

“Or you can just kiss me already and be done with it.” You suggest, smiling victoriously when his arms encircle your waist, pulling you even closer to his body.

×

@baker151910 @shinydixon @dreamin-of-dacre @hanoi15 @lickmymelaninn @foccus @multific @uncookspaget @kellysimagines @peakascum @thisbreakableheaven @nope-thanks

[teamfreewill2pointo]

Sam’s Emotional Arc 1/3

I hated the finale immediately, but I’ve spent some time with it and talked to friends who loved it. I can see now what it was about, and I’ve come to appreciate the story they were trying to tell, even if I think it didn’t land right.

I’ve been told that my meta on this has helped other people come to terms with the finale, so I thought I’d compile it in one place from across various discord channels and twitter posts. If you are struggling with the finale, I hope it helps you.

Part of this actually started with a shit post. I was making a joke about Sam being psychic since he was scared of clowns when Dean died by one. I realized that may have been deliberate. I dug into the story more and now I’m convinced it was. Then I came across some excellent meta that fit with the themes I was finding and opened up the series even more for me.

Happiness isn’t in the having, it’s in just being. It’s in just saying it.

Cas said it. Dean accepted it. Sam lived it. First, Sam’s journey. 

Clowns pop up in s15 before the barn scene. In 15.01, which was written by Dabb, Sam is injured by a clown. Castiel is able to save Sam and heal his injury. The clown keeps coming after Sam, with Sam having fight scenes with the clown, while others attack the other ghosts. The clown is kicking the shit out of Sam again, and Castiel saves him once more. Sam is unable to fight off the clown on his own both times.

They run until they are able to escape outside a magical barrier. Sam turns to the clown and says, “shut up”. 

This is literally Sam running from his fears. On top of that, this isn’t just any clown, but the ghost of John Wayne Gacy, from an episode also written by Dabb.

Dean: A serial killer clown. I mean, this is, like, the best/worst thing that’s ever happened to you, you know, ‘cause you love serial killers, but – but you hate clowns.

Sam gets nervous and struggles with the lighter before he’s able to get rid of the clown, for now.

I believe this is a metaphor for hunting in general: it’s both the best of Sam’s life and also the worst. The clowns symbolize his relationship with Dean.

Plucky Pennywhistle's Magical Menagerie was co-written by Dabb (see the pattern?). Sam’s fear of clowns was known since season 2. In season 7, Dabb explored where this fear came from.

On the surface, Sam’s fear is just because he found them creepy, but the episode explains that they actually come from Sam’s fear of being left behind by Dean.

This episode comes directly after an episode where Sam worried that Dean would get himself killed

Sam: Look... Dean, the thing is, tonight... It almost got you killed. Now, I don't care how you deal. I really, really don't. But just don't – don't get killed. Dean: I'll do what I can. Sam: Well, what's that supposed to mean? Dean: It means I'll do what I can. All right? You can shut up about it.

Sam is dealing with Hallucifer at this moment, but Hallucifer doesn’t really scare him. Losing Dean does.

Sam has a conversation with an employee about greatest fears.

Recognize the actress? She came back for s15 in 15.06. I don’t believe this was a coincidence. 15.06 featured Castiel helping a parent find their lost child in a season that features Castiel worried about losing Jack. Through his experience with her, Castiel confronts his fears and doubts and then returns to join in the fight against God. [I’ll touch on Castiel’s journey more in his chapter]

Sam’s greatest fear is losing Dean. There’s a lot in the series about how Sam felt lonely and abandoned for much of his childhood. A whole episode, Just My Imagination, centers around this. Sam hated when Dean went off on hunts without him.

source In The Chitters, Sam tells Dean how his fear of losing his family paralyzed him as child. It’s a story where an older brother dies and the younger brother never recovers from it until he’s able to lay him to rest (sound familiar???)

Sam: You know, whenever you and Dad used to leave me to go hunting, and I-and I wouldn’t hear from y’all for a while, I, um, I was always sure that some vamp or rugaru, or take your pick, I always figured one of them finally got ya. I tried to think what to do, you know, the next step to take. I was just lost. Dean: We came back, though, every time.

You might naturally think, “Wait a minute! Sam left Dean multiple times!” Honestly, this was something I had a huge issue with when watching through the show the first time. I didn’t understand Sam and hated him leaving Dean in s8. I was completely on Dean’s side at first. But, on multiple rewatches and talking to others, I’ve realized that when Sam left Dean, he was running from his fear. In this TV Guide interview, Jared perfectly sums up why Sam left in season 1; he couldn’t stand to see his family die. Dabb wrote Dark Side of the Moon along with a comic that explains why Sam left in detail. While the comic isn’t official canon, it shows Dabb’s thought process. In it, Sam sees his family as running towards a horrible end and can’t handle dealing with that.

Dean: So what are you gonna do? You're just gonna live some normal, apple pie life? Is that it? Sam: No. Not normal. Safe.

There are many more points in the series where we learn about Sam’s fear of Dean dying. This would be 3948573945 pages long if I wrote them all out, so I’m going to focus on the key moments that loop back to this ending, but there’s so much more there.

If you are struggling with this and need more, please let me know and I can do a deeper dive into that subject. We first see Sam’s inability to let Dean go in season 1 when Sam refuses to let Dean die in Faith.

Dean: You're not gonna let me die in peace, are you? Sam: I'm not gonna let you die, period. We're going.

Sam’s whole arc in s3 is him being unable to handle Dean dying. He wants to save Dean, but Dean won’t let himself be saved. This was what Gabriel was trying to teach him in Mystery Spot.

Trickster: This obsession to save Dean? The way you two keep sacrificing yourselves for each other? Nothing good comes out of it. Just blood and pain. Dean's your weakness. And the bad guys know it, too. It's gonna be the death of you, Sam. Sometimes you just gotta let people go.

This is how Ruby gets under Sam’s skin and what gets him to start working with her. Everything Sam did was to save Dean. In s4, Sam’s arc is about him sacrificing himself in order to save Dean. He’s gutted from being unable to save Dean. In 4.12, Sam decides to drink demon blood in order to save Dean

Dean: [says that they will die early] Sam: Maybe we'll be different, Dean. Dean: What kind of Kool-Aid you drinking, man? Sammy, it ends bloody or sad. That's just the life. Sam: What if we could win?Dean: "Win"?Sam: If there was a way we could just...put an end to all of it.

When Sam breaks out of the panic room, he’s suicidal. He’s determined to save Dean with his life as the cost he’s willing to pay. He didn’t think he would survive killing Lilith. He was committing suicide in that moment. The reason why Sam is so willing to sacrifice himself in s5 is because he has low self esteem. He blames himself for everything that goes wrong. In Sam, Interrupted 5.11, also by Dabb, Sam has a breakdown under the weight of his guilt. He hates himself and he feels his rage is out of control. In season 6, we see soulless Sam and, unlike souled Sam, he has no rage. Yes, he’ll kill when necessary, but he’s not angry. It was Sam’s fear driving his rage. He felt out of control of his life and let it lead him down a dark path. In season 7, he sees Dean heading down a dark path and he feels helpless to stop it. He worries about dragging Dean down and tells Dean to let him go. But, at the same time, he’s developing coping techniques. He’s starting to face his fears. 

And then Dean disappears and Sam completely falls apart. Sam didn’t have a healthy relationship with Amelia. They were two broken people clinging to each other. Sam and Dean struggle to reconnect after their time apart. There’s a lot of text addressing the horror of a partner dying and people trying to escape from it.

Mrs Holmes: He could see the end of my days were at hand, and... He had lived centuries all alone, but I don't think he could bear the thought of life without me. That's why he drove off that bridge. You must think I'm a monster.

In Hunteri Heroica written by GUESS WHO!?!? Sam finally acknowledges that he was living in a dream world with Amelia. He was running from his past. We see a flash back with Sam pressing on his scar, which he did to help himself distinguish fantasy from reality.

The episode is about a man refusing to engage in reality and harming those around him. Sam has a big confrontation with him

Sam: Look, it can be nice living in a dream world. It can be great. I know that. And you can hide, and you can pretend... all the crap out there doesn't exist, but you can't do it forever because... eventually, whatever it is you're running from – it'll find you. [CASTIEL appears to be taking Sam’s words to heart.] It'll come along, and it'll punch you in the gut. And then... then you got to wake up, because if you don't, then trying to keep that dream alive will destroy you! It'll destroy everything!

Likewise, when Sam was with Jessica, he wasn’t honest about himself. He was hiding from his family and his past. Running to avoid pain. Sam is avoidant in general. Not just in his relationship with Dean. When he talks with Rowena in 13.12 Various & Sundry Villains about his fears of Lucifer, he admits that he could talk about it with Dean, but he can’t bring himself to.

Sam: I’ve seen it too. What he really looks like behind – behind whatever vessel. It… Yeah, still keeps me up at night. Rowena: How do you deal with it? Sam: I guess I don’t deal with it. Not really. I mean, I pushed it down and, um, the world kept almost ending, so I keep pushing it down, and I don’t know. [stammering] I really don’t talk about it, not even with Dean. I mean, I could. You know, he’d listen, but… That’s not something I really know how to share.

In 15.20, Sam’s past is front and center. Literally. I know a lot of people found the Winchester family portrait odd and upsetting, but it symbolizes something I’ll get to in a bit. Instead of trying to avoid his grief, Sam has moments where he lets it wash over him. He goes and sits in the car. He’s no longer avoidant. He’s no longer running away. He’s letting his grief move through him. He’s literally sitting with it.

Soulless Puppy pointed out that the characters emotional arcs is similar to DBT. Please look through their awesome meta here.

Personally, I see them as similar to the therapy I do called ACT. Both are forms of therapy where instead of fighting against them, you accept painful emotions and allow yourself to feel them. If you don’t do that work, then you can’t stop feeling them and your fears/ghosts will always haunt you.  In Swan Song, Chuck tells us that “Dean didn't want Cas to save him. Every part of him, every fiber he's got, wants to die, or find a way to bring Sam back. But he isn't gonna do either. Because he made a promise.”  In 15.20, Sam initially didn’t want to let Dean go. He’s been refusing to do this since season 1. When he’s separated from Dean he lives a fake life or destroys himself/the world trying to get Dean back. There’s a moment in 15.20 where Sam looks at Dean’s guns. He wants to commit suicide, but he makes the choice to live. For the time in Sam’s life, he let Dean go and lived with his pain. He no longer ran from it. After Swan Song, Dean was unable to let Sam go. He wanted him back. After Carry On, Sam is able to do what Dean couldn’t do. He lives a life outside of Dean. What’s more, Sam has reconciled himself with his past and his family. It’s clumsy and I wish it were better shown, but having the family portrait and their parents in heaven isn’t meant to excuse the way Sam and Dean were raised. In order to move past the trauma of his relationship with his parents, Sam fully integrates them into his life. In Lebanon, Sam was able to confront and forgive his father. In doing so, he can also forgive himself. Mary asks for forgiveness too, and he grants it to her. He doesn’t forget what happened, but he’s able to move forward and leave the intergenerational cycle of violence. He’s able to raise his son, Dean, the way his brother should have been raised.

Happiness isn’t in the having, it’s in just being. It’s in just saying it.

Cas said it. Dean accepted it. Sam lived it.

I can see why people see Sam’s life after Dean as unhappy. I hated it so much because I saw it as horrible and sad the first time through. I had to sit with myself and my emotions first. I think it’s because we’ve been told by society that we have to get rid of our grief in order to be happy. The finale was showing us that it’s possible to do the opposite. [Personally I think it would’ve been better had they showed more overtly happy memories, but many of my friends saw this straight away] When I began therapy, one of the first things I learned was that there aren’t “negative” emotions. When working with our kids, we call them Big emotions. In DBT/ACT, all emotions are treated as normal and natural. Grief, anger, sadness, etc, these are all normal parts of the human existence. We don’t need to run from them in order to have happiness. We can live with them. As interstitial said in our chats, “you can't change the past, you can only change your relationship to it. To accept that your past contained both love and heartache, to miss it, but also know you can do better; that's actual recovery, as good as it gets.” As Soulless-Puppy explained to me, Sam lived in duality. Dean was dead, but Sam lived. Sam was happy, but he grieved. Dean was with him in the watch and the car and his son, but Dean also waited for him in heaven. I hated the finale the first time I saw it, then next watched it with my boyfriend who loved it. As we were watching together and discussing it, I realized that Dean’s death scene wasn’t just about him, but about the show itself. 

Dean promising Sam that he will be with Sam in Sam’s heart is also the show promising us that they will never leave it. That’s why Alex kept posting “The end has no end.” Just as Sam carried Dean with him in his heart, we will carry the show with us. I hope this helps. It’s a terrible thing to feel upset about an ending and thinking of the show this way, recognizing these patterns, is bringing me peace. I still have issues with how it was written, but now that I see what they were doing, I wish all the more that they had the chance to do it right. Please share your thoughts and experiences. I love hearing different opinions. Next up, Dean. Then Castiel.

[mcwriting]

The Marriage Project (10)

Hellooooo! For 300 followers, I decided to drop chapter 10! Please enjoy!

Masterlist

Word Count: 2202

Warnings: maybe some language? 

% approximately the last weekend of october %

By the time everyone and their families had gotten to the city and eaten dinner, it was around 8:30 pm, so you and Tom decided to try and knock out your project work.

You sat in the breakfast lounge next to each other at a table as other team members and families conversed. You noticed Nikki and your parents talking and gave Tom a glance.

Since this was your last ever volleyball tournament (at least for high school), your parents had come and you were getting to stay in their hotel room instead of a team room.

You mostly worked silently when you and Tom overheard some people talking about homecoming.

“Who’re you taking to homecoming?” he asked casually. “And don’t say Paddy or Harry.”

You laughed at that one.

“Uhh, no one. I don’t really have anyone to take so guess I’m flying solo with the girls again. Why? Who were you gonna go with?”

“Eh, nobody. The guys brought it up earlier to me and I was just curious.”

“Oh, really? I thought you had girls lined up at your feet. And a couple guys, too.”

“I’m pretty sure I could say the same about you. And you mean freshmen? Yeah right. I’m not about to catch a case, not that I’m remotely attracted to any of them.”

That comment made you laugh again.

“Yeah, well, those same freshmen are the ones spreading rumors about us. It’s stupid. We oughta stick it to them somehow.”

“What are you getting at..?” he trailed, suspicion in his voice.

“I don’t know… What if we just went to the dance together? I mean, we’re already on homecoming court and are most likely gonna win, so what if we just showed up together to annoy them? It’s not like we have to make it some big deal or anything.”

He looked at you for a minute, like he was doing calculations.

“So… you and me, no matter whether we win or not, go together? You don’t think that’s just gonna make things worse?”

“I’m pretty sure anything we do will keep causing rumors so long as we’re doing this project. We don’t have to, I just thought it would be funny to see everyone’s reactions.”

“You know what, let’s do it. There’s nothing for us to lose. Let’s just not tell people we’re going together and then just show up there. If anyone asks just say we’re going solo?” He suggested.

“That’s not going to work completely… what if you came to dinner with me and my friends beforehand? We can surprise them all and then the rest of the school at the dance. It would be really sus if I bailed on dinner and I’d like for your mom to take some pre-dance pictures.”

You decided to shake on it and get back to work, but your stomach was doing the same fluttering it had been the past couple weeks. By the time you two finished, it was just past 10 pm and most of the parents and even some of the team had gone to their rooms. 

The only people you knew nearby were Sam and Julia, who were sitting on a chair together watching something on her phone, and of course Tom, who was watching snap videos from friends at the Halloween party that had just started.

“I think I’m gonna head upstairs. Even though top seed doesn’t play the first round, I have to be up kinda early,” you explained as you stood, gripping your laptop across your chest.

“What’s your room number, I’ll walk you up. Some of the people here have been giving me weird vibes.”

“Umm, let me check,” you pulled out your phone with the text your mom had sent earlier. “415.”

“Oh that’s perfect. We’re in 416. Just across the hall.”

You said goodnight to Sam and Julia as you passed and went to the elevator. As you waited, a young couple, probably in their mid twenties came up, obviously drunk. They were dressed up for the holiday, and you were surprised that they were seeming to cut the night short. 

“Oh my God babe, look, they’re like younger us!” the girl attempted to whisper, giggling. Your face burned as you glanced at Tom, who looked as uncomfortable as you.

“That’s so dope! How long have you been with this little lady?” the guy said directed to Tom, giving you a once over, as all four of you entered and pressed the buttons to your floor.

“Oh we’re no-” you began when Tom interjected.

“‘Bout a year, man,” he smiled, tossing his arm over your shoulder and pulling you in tight. The elevator doors closed.

You simultaneously wanted to push him away and fall into his tight, warm grip. You decided to play along as you continued to hold on to your computer. 

“Best year ever!” you exclaimed, leaning up to give him a peck on the cheek.

“Oh come on! You can do better than that! Kiss him! Kiss him!” the girl egged on. You both chuckled nervously and gave each other a look. There seemed to be a silent consensus to just do it for the bit.

Tom moved his arm to your waist and lightly pressed his lips against yours, smiling as he pulled away. You were left a little stunned as the inebriated couple clapped and cheered.

You could tell they were going to say more when the doors opened on the fourth floor.

“Well here’s our stop. Nice talking to you. Come on, princess,” Tom said, the both of you rushing out of the elevator, his arm still around you. 

Once the door closed, you both let out a sigh as you turned down the hall towards your rooms.

“Well that was...  weird,” you stated, the both of you walking pretty slowly. You were keenly aware of the way his hand tightly cupped your side as you clumsily knocked into him a few times.

“Couldn’t have said it better myself. Sorry about that. I didn’t know what they were gonna do and that guy had creepo vibes and I panicked.”

“I get it. We are married, after all,” you said quietly, wiggling your left hand. “Well, here’s my room. Thanks for keeping an eye out. See you tomorrow?”

“Yeah, see you at breakfast. You’re gonna kill it tomorrow,” he said softly, squeezing you in a side hug one last time before letting you go. Your side tingled from where his warm body was no longer touching as you entered the hotel room.

It wasn’t long before you were also saying goodnight to your parents and laying in the dark room, reflecting on the wild day that was Friday. 

You knew that back home everyone was still partying, as you’d received pictures and videos of your friends dressed as Guy Fieri, but you’d had a whole different kind of experience, unsure if it was a good or bad one.

Tom’s lips were kinda soft though

And his big hands around my waist fit nicely

You pushed the thoughts away as you finally fell into deep slumber.

%

You headed to breakfast wearing sweats, a baggy tee, and a pair of socks and slides. Looks were not a priority right now. While you waited on your waffle to finish cooking, someone appeared next to you, yawning.

“Morning, princess,” he muttered, stretching and rubbing his eyes.

“You really aren’t a morning person, are you?”

“Nope. Now how much longer are you gonna be here because I’m in need of a waffle,” he asked, nudging your sides. It seemed as though you were both pretending the previous night had never happened.

Once you both built your plates, you went to sit with some of the team when Tom plopped into the seat next to you. He immediately began digging in, but paused when he realized the whole table was starting at him.

“What’s wrong, you want me to bless the food or something?” he looked to you.

“No it’s just surprising that you’d come sit with us is all,” one sophomore said. “I mean, you’re like the most popular guy in school.”

“Yeah well the real legend is this bit-” your glare stopped him in his tracks, “...I won’t call you that word, but anyways y/n ranks above me. If anything, she’s the intimidating one.”

The girls giggled and went back to their conversations, occasionally looking at Tom still. 

“Sorry I almost called you a bitch. I meant it the good way,” he whispered into your ear.

You stared at him for a few seconds as you finished chewing a bite of apple.

“I’m just confused as to why you came over here with all the girls.”

“Well it might come as a shock to say that you’re the only person here that I’m friends with other than Sam, and he’s on thin ice after hogging the bed sheets last night,” he explained, shooting a glare to his younger brother, who was obliviously eating with Julia and his mom.

“Today’s gonna get real boring then if I’m your only friend.”

“Hey, remember our conversation Monday? Cute uniforms?” 

You slapped him on the chest for that one.

%

A long, hard day of games had led up to this moment. A whole season. A big portion of your life.

It was probably between 7 and 8 pm. You weren’t sure. All you knew was that the scoreboard said 24-23 your team. Meaning, one point for you equaled a final win.

You wiped the sweat from your brow as you stood on the back line of the court, nervous and determined.

There were cheers from all sides of the gym as you prepared to serve one last time, hopefully for the better.

The upper ref blew her whistle and motioned her hand for you to serve.

One

Two

Three

bounces on the gym floor. A toss in the air. A slap to the ball.

The ball passed the net and sunk right to the gym floor without a single person touching it.

It took you a second after the whistle blew and the scoreboard changed to realize that you had won the game. You were snapped back to reality by the loud cheers of your teammates and supporters.

The team came and congratulated you, slapping your butt and squeezing your shoulders. They pushed you to the front of the line to shake hands with the other team and refs under the net.

You didn’t realize until the team went into a huddle that there were tears slipping down your cheeks and everyone reached out to love on you and Anna. All those years working for this moment and it had finally ended. 

Coach made her speech short and sweet, because you could tell she was holding back tears as she looked between you and your co captain.

The two of you led one last cheer for your team. A tournament official came to hand the team the trophy, give you another tournament MVP medal and both you and Anna all tournament and all state awards. You hung them on your neck proudly, happy to feel their weight.

Upon turning around, the first person you saw was Tom, who had a big smile on your face. You immediately rushed to hug him, jumping a little into his arms.

“Told you you could do it!” he exclaimed, wrapping his arms over your sweaty frame. You pulled away, arms still loosely holding each other.  He casually brushed the residual tears from your cheeks.

“And what’s this? Some new ice?” he asked, grabbing all three medals in one hand. He raised one up pretending to bite it.

“My drip is just too clean,” you joked, flipping your ponytail over your shoulder. You heard someone clear their throat behind you. It was your dad.

You went and hugged your parents and talked for a few minutes, then were called over for Nikki to take team pictures. 

Everyone showed off their fiery hair ribbons (you had stayed true to your joking promise) and got pictures with the trophy. You and Anna also took some biting your medals and alone with the large award.

You finally headed to the locker room, changing and packing up your volleyball bag one last time. 

The end of an era was a sad one to say the least.

You said goodbye to everyone as your parents got the car ready. Tom came up.

“Hey. Good job once again. I’m proud of you. See you Monday?”

You felt yourself blush as your stomach flip flopped.

“Thank you, Tom. I’m glad you were here this weekend, especially last night. See you then.”

You gave one last side hug before getting in the car and preparing for the long ride home. You were sitting still for a while reflecting on the day when your phone lit up.

“How’s the ride so far?” Tom asked over text.

“It’s been 20 minutes, Tom.”

“Well if I’m going to be stuck third wheeling Julia and Sam I’m gonna need someone to talk to.”

You rolled your eyes and smiled, continuing the conversation all the way home until you were falling asleep in bed.

%

A/N: ahhh thank you all again for 300 followers! I genuinely can’t believe that there are that many people who are so interested in my writing! Especially those of you who have been around since the beginning, when my writing was especially bad haha. Love you all!

Send a message or ask if you’d like to be added to my permanent or series taglists so I can verify you’ve been added!

Story tag list: @jackiehollanderr, @one-big-fangirl, @l0lmk, @primadonnasdream, @bookworm06, @thenoddingbunny-blog, @agentnataliahofferson, @spider-babe, @stxfxniexreads, @justafangirlduh, @supraveng,

[angrylizardjacket]

dirtbags // 2: Lola

Summary: High school AU, 1984, Winter. It’s hard to make friends when you’re the new kid starting halfway through Junior year, but slowly Lola seems to be making a few. It’s much easier to have a rumour started about you, especially when you tend to make questionable choices at parties, but that’s much less fun.

A/N: 8173 words. Lola’s dad is the MVP, trust me. i meant to put this out a week ago whoops!! also im allowed to reference my own Queen oc as a treat. @bluehourmotel, @misscharlottelee and again, interludes are A Softer World quotes.

[ m a s t e r p o s t ]

the best revenge is living well. the second best revenge is fire ants.

The fact that after being in town for a total of two weeks, Lola’s closest friend is the gas station attendant a full fifteen minute drive away from her house is kind of sad. Not that she’s disappointed to be Mick’s friend, he’s got a dry sense of humor but a good heart and he’s refreshing honesty, but she’s been at this new school for about a week and a half, has already made out with at least one person, has possibly convinced said-person’s cousin that she’s trying to corrupt him, and started to make a name for herself - whether it’s good or bad is yet to be seen -, and yet Mick Mars, nineteen-year-old gas station attendant, apprentice electrician, and aspiring guitar player is her closest friend. 

But she’s always been kind of terrible at making friends her own age.

“You have lost all respect from me,” Mick told her on Monday morning after the party, over the counter of the gas station as he’s ringing her up for her smokes and iced coffee before she went to school, “you could have picked anyone to mack on at that party, and you chose Tommy fuckin’ Lee?”

“He was nice to me, what was I meant to do?” Lola declared, realizing too late that that statement revealed absolutely too much about herself to a near stranger. Mick, however, just gives her a flat look.

“You need higher standards.” He doesn’t seem too phased by her. Lola takes this in stride, and nods, agreeing with a sigh. 

“What time do you finish work?” She asks, changing the subjects quickly as she’s pulling out a bill from her back pocket, “dad said he’s happy to let you have a look at that weird light switch that doesn’t do anything that I was telling you about.” 

“I finish at ten tonight, I’m working a double,” he groans at the very thought of it. Lola gives him a sympathetic look, and tells him to only come around if he’s up to it, otherwise leaving it for another day.

That’s the day that Lola realises the whole school knows about her and Tommy at the party, that she has Art with Charlotte before lunch, and also that Charlotte can’t look her in the eye.

Tuesday the school realises that she’s not just Lola Who Gives It Up For Free At Parties, but that she’s Lola The New Girl and that they don’t know anything about her beyond that. There’s a guy in her wood working class with long black hair and a dangerous smile that winks at her; she flips him off, knowing all he cared about was knowing if the rumours were true. She’s got AP French last period with that ginger from the party who wouldn’t stop laughing, Eileen; she’s a lot more serious, sober. The cheerleader, Heather, won’t stop giving her these weird, calculating looks.

Wednesday there’s a new rumour, that she was expelled from her last school. The population of the school hasn’t decided what exactly they think she was expelled for yet. Turns out she has English with that guy from her woodworking class, he just hadn’t turned up for their lesson on Monday; he sits at the back like Lola, in the other corner, and the teacher calls him Nikki in a tone like she’s already disappointed. Lola can see why, he fell asleep at his desk. Art last period with Charlotte; she still barely looks at Lola. 

Thursday. Heather asks in AP French if Lola’s heard what everyone’s saying about her; her tone is sweet and dangerous in equal measure and Lola doesn’t trust what’s about to come out of her mouth. The new rumour is that Lola was expelled for sleeping with a teacher; something about the glint in Heather’s eye is cruel, and Lola asks her sweetly if she’s more jealous of Lola or the teacher. That shuts Heather up fast, and Eileen’s cough behind them sounds more like she’s trying to hide a laugh. But it still gets to her; Lola focuses so hard on ignoring the girls gossiping loudly about her at their station behind her in Home Economics that she burns the apple danishes she was attempting, and she throws the burnt pastries, and the tray they’d been cooking on, into the bin until she realises her mistake and sulkily fishes the tray out again. Thankfully, the teacher didn’t notice.

Friday, and Lola hasn’t paid much attention to Vince, whose house she’s been to but who she hadn’t properly met until their classes had P.E at the same time; he’s in the year below her, but still manages to sidle up to her while they’re both waiting for their teachers to prepare the field for whatever torture they’re masquerading as physical exercise today. She tells him to fuck off; there’s something about the way he conducts himself that she doesn’t like, like he’s putting on a show of being shallow and vain and the life of the party. Instead, Vince’s voice goes quiet and he tells her that Tommy’s a good kid with a good heart -

“You give this speech to everyone you caught making out at your parties, or just me, ‘cos you think I’m a bitch and I’m gonna hurt one of ‘your bros’?” She snapped, lip curling, and Vince’s brow creases into a frown, “I’m not his fucking girlfriend, we made out a little, you don’t have to act like I’m going to break his heart, so piss off.”

A moment passes, and he appears to don his shallow, playboy mask when he asks her slyly if the rumours are true. She shoves him hard enough that he skitters back a few feet, and Lola earns her first after school detention.

The thing is, she and Tommy are already on the same page about this, it was a what happens while drunk at a party stays at that party. Or at least, it’s meant to. Either way, Charlotte’s protectiveness, and Vince’s... attempt at protectiveness was unwarranted. Maybe it’s because Tommy, for whatever reason, has started hanging around Lola at lunch.

She doesn’t sit in the cafeteria like the rest of them, or even on that little section of the roof the intimidating pack of punks, rockers, and smokers have found a way to get to. Lola sits against the fence near the science building, close to the carpark that’s always open for some stupid reason, as though she’s contemplating bolting.

“Don’t you have friends?” Lola’s tone is kind of hard, and perhaps her words are on the nose, and a little cruel, but it’s Wednesday, and this is the third day in a row he’s found her and spent the entirety of lunch with her. They don’t speak much, Lola smokes and picks apart whatever her dad’s latest cooking experiment is before she eats it, and Tommy practices twirling his drumsticks. 

“I have friends, do you?” Tommy responds, more than a little defensive, rubbing at his brow where he’d just managed to hit himself mid-drumstick-twirl, taken aback by her question. Lola gives him a flat look. “Someone told me you were expelled from your last school,” Tommy’s gaze shifts to the carpark, to the last car and it’s telltale rocking and fogged up windows.

“They say why?”

“Nah,” Tommy shakes his head, scowl softening as he gets back to practicing, “it true?” Lola’s picking out and eating the apple chunks from the slice of pie her father had packed for the day, still watching the car with the mildest of interest. She shakes her head. Tommy hums noncommittally. They spend the rest of lunch in silence.

“He keeps hanging out with me!” The following afternoon, Lola gripes to Mick on his smoke break after she gets out of school for the afternoon.

“You keep hanging out with me,” Mick points out, peeling the label off of a bottle of soda.

“And?”

“I don’t tell you to fuck off.”

“Yeah? So?”

“Because,” and Mick heaves a heavy sigh, like it pains him to admit, “we’re friends, Lola,” but he pauses and amends, “God knows why.”

“Fuck you, I’m a delight,” Lola huffs, and pulls her oversized denim jacket tighter around herself to ward off the chill of the afternoon breeze. If this were pretty much any other state, they’d be knee-deep in snow; thank God for LA, snow’s pretty for five minutes before it’s a pain.

“Do you tell him to fuck off?” Mick asks pointedly, as if exhausted that he has to spell it out for her. Lola’s quiet, but her answer’s clear. Mick clears his throat with a cough. Lola’s scowl deepens. 

She brings it up to her father that night. 

“Do you reckon Tommy’s trying to be my friend?” She asked, gaze intense as she focuses on slicing apples into little cubes. Leo, her father, who was kneeding a blend of spices into a ball of dough that would end up being a pie crust, paused.

“The kid who has been hanging out with you at lunch?” He thought for a moment, “the one from the party?”

“I told him it was nothing serious-” Lola tried, exasperatedly cutting the apples a little rougher, but her father’s warm, gentle laugh cut her off.

“Yes, I think he’s trying to be your friend,” he told her, which Lola hadn’t exactly wanted to hear, but the information was easier to digest coming from him than it was coming from Mick, “he obviously likes you -”

“But I told him -”

“I know, you told him it wasn’t serious, but dear, that doesn’t mean he likes you less as a person - you’re a very cool cat, I can see why he’d want to be your friend,” he gives her finger guns, and Lola can’t help but laugh softly at his attempt to be hip. 

“Christ, dad,” Lola huffs, smiling fondly, but he’d managed to cheer her spirits considerably. 

“I burnt my danishes today,” Lola’s voice goes quiet as she goes back to focusing on her task, and her dad makes a noise of intrigue, “got distracted and crisped the whole tray.”

“You’ll get ‘em next time; just fifteen minutes, remember?”

“Fifteen minutes, no distractions,” Lola agreed, almost by rote, thankful that he doesn’t ask about what had distracted her. She can still hear the whispered gossip and giggles that had come from the cooking station behind her in Home Economics.

Her dad knows that her peers think she was expelled from her last school, but she keeps her mouth shut about the fact that today they’d decided it was because she had relations with a teacher; he knows almost everything about her, but he didn’t need to know about a whole school calling her a slut. He’d blow it out of proportion, and it isn’t getting to her since she knew for a fact it wasn’t true. 

They finish the apple pie with it’s rosemary and lemongrass crust in good spirits. The flavours don’t go together as well as Leo had hoped, but it’s another step closer to the perfect apple pie he’d been trying for. Leo packs her two of the leftover slices for lunch, as a not-so-subtle hint. 

On Friday, Lola hands Tommy a plastic container with a piece of apple pie, with a rosemary and lemongrass crust in it.

“Is it poison?” He asks. Lola doesn’t look at him, picking the individual apple pieces out and eating them one at a time.

“The crust tastes weird if you eat it with the filling,” Lola’s voice is flat as she explains instead of answering, “but the apples are sweet.” She eats another cube of apple, then breaks off a corner of the golden, perfectly cooked crust, now cold and stiff from spending the night in the refrigerator. 

“Why are you giving me this?” 

“Eat it or don’t, I don’t care,” Lola tells him, hunching further in on herself; like this, she can’t see the way Tommy’s expression has broken out into a smile.

“Thanks Lola,” but the smile is evident in his voice, confirming all of her suspicions at once. Tommy took her at her word when she said the rumours weren’t true, even if the rest of the school believed them, so Lola supposes she’s actually okay with the fact that her second ever friend in the entirety of California is the marching band geek in the year below her who she made out with at a party once. 

Also maybe she’s just kind of terrible at making friends.

you and me baby! we are the future! and the future is bleak.

“Wait, you’ve never met Nikki Sixx?” Tommy asked, sitting patiently with his back against the fence, his hand resting on her knee as she fills in the the nails of his left hand with black sharpie, “didn’t you go to his gig the other week?”

“I didn’t know anyone,” Lola pointed out, and Tommy makes a thoughtful noise.

“You’d love him, he’s so fucking cool,” he assured her, which made Lola give pause; Tommy also thinks Vince is fucking cool, and she wants to throw Vince out a window, “he was the one on bass.” 

“The one in the leather pants?” Lola couldn’t help but smile at the memory; she’d appreciated it at the time, and could appreciate it now. Tommy, however, rolled his eyes.

“The girls love the leather pants,” he gave a quiet sigh, before adding, almost to himself, “wish I had leather pants.” 

“Leather pants would look good on you,” Lola pinches at his thigh for a moment, and goes back to filling in his nails. missing Tommy’s pleased, flustered little smile. 

“You know Freddie paints his nails like this,” Tommy says instead, changing the topic of conversation.

“Freddie?”

“Mercury. From Queen; you know Queen, right?” And he sounds kind of skeptical, like if she doesn’t know them, they can’t be friends anymore. Lola pauses again, her hand soft on Tommy’s where she’s filling in around his ring finger’s cuticle.

“I wanna climb John Deacon like a fucking tree,” she mutters, which startles a laugh out of Tommy, his hand jerking up to cover his mouth, making Lola leave a black line against his knee, through the rip in his jeans. When she looks up at him, however, her eyes are shining with mirth, “come on, man, you must have seen the video of them performing in Montreal last year!” And she licks her lips, watching Tommy’s blush grow steadily darker. After a beat, Lola bursts out laughing, shattering the tension and shifting to sit beside him, idly doodling on her own hand with the marker as Tommy shakes his head with amusement.

Lola starts humming Back Chat to herself, and Tommy leans his head back against the wire of the fence, listening for a moment.

“You and Charlie would get along great too,” he considers, and Lola doesn’t stop humming, nor does she look to him, “she likes Roger, but probably just because she thinks he’s pretty.” Lola can hear his eyeroll without even seeing it, and she’s not sure why, but she files that information away in the back of her mind; she’d never gotten an especially shallow vibe from Charlotte, but there was a uncertain undeniable appeal to Roger Taylor’s pretty-boy charm.

“Didn’t his girlfriend leave him for Bowie?” Lola asks mildly, barely pausing to speak between humming notes.

“Rocket Mercury?”

“Her name’s Rocket?” Lola snorts, finally looking at him, and Tommy’s lips twisted into an amused grin. 

“Her name’s Ash, but everyone calls her Rocket,” he says, like he’s in the know, and Lola stays quiet, nodding and trying not to laugh, “and yeah, I think so, she’s been with a few people since him I think; Bowie, this girl from this English band Hawkwind, Elton John maybe? Or someone around him I think.” Tommy nods, and Lola’s kind of intrigued as to why he knows so much about Queen’s drummer’s partner, but something else has caught her attention.

“A girl from Hawkwind?” Tommy doesn’t seem to notice the way Lola’s voice has softened, or how her expression has dropped to something carefully neutral. She’s drawing a little flower on the knuckle of her thumb.

“One of their dancers, Stacy, maybe?” Tommy’s own tone is light, like he doesn’t even realise Lola’s hanging onto his every word regarding this one little detail about a woman she doesn’t even know, “was kind of a scandal, but it was years ago; she’s Freddie’s sister after all, maybe it’s genetic.”

“Genetic?”

“Liking girls and guys, you know?” And he pauses. Lola’s frozen beside him, the marker pressed hard against her skin, breath caught in her throat. He throws it out so casually, so easily. Her hands are shaking. The words so kind when he says them, so unlike what she’s used to hearing. Tommy’s already moved on to the next thought. “actually, I’m not sure if Freddie’s like, legit her brother, but anyways, she and Roger are back together; I’m glad.” As if a sixteen-year-old’s opinion on a rock legend’s love life mattered, “he seems happier with her, all his best live shows were when they were together.”

“I’d kill to play half as well as him,” it’s almost wistful when Tommy says it, interrupting Lola’s thoughts, his gaze trained on the sky, as if imagining he’s on stage himself. Lola lets out a long, quiet breath, recentering herself as she looks to him.

“You wanna play drums?” 

“I can play drums,” Tommy tells her like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, “but not nearly as good as Roger Fucking Taylor, can you imagine?” But Lola’s more focused on the -

“I thought you just played in the marching band, can you play, like, full -” and she sits forward, gesturing like she’s tapping on a full drumkit, eyes shinning. Suddenly, in the face of her rare, unrestrained smile, Tommy feels himself growing nervous, like he’ll let her down if he’s not actually as good as he thinks he is.

“I’ve got a kit in my garage,” he admits, and Lola pauses, letting her excitement simmer, as though realising it had gotten the best of her, breaking her cool and aloof facade.

“That’s cool as hell,” she does add, however, and Tommy beams.

“Thanks,” he mumbles, all flustered at even the slightest praise, “man, you’d really like Charlie, I know she looks all fancy and intimidating, but she’s a real softie inside.”

“You are really pushing hard for me to be friends with your cousin,” Lola notes, giving him a sidelong glance, and Tommy’s nose scrunches up, caught out.

“She thinks you’re trying to corrupt me,” he grumbles, “but if you guys met she’d know you’re not.”

“I am corrupting you,” Lola smirks, “next week I plan on peer pressuring you into smoking.”

“I’ve smoked before!” Tommy’s up in arms, like the implication that he hasn’t done something as low-level cool as smoking offends him.

“Dude I was kidding, I gave you half my cigarette yesterday,” Lola reminds him, and the bell rings.

While Lola was more than happy to let sleeping dogs lie, it appeared that Charlotte was not, and less than two days after her conversation with Tommy, Lola finds herself sitting by Charlotte’s side in their shared art class.

It’s the last class of the day, and Charlotte’s the one who sits by Lola. There’s no preamble, barely acknowledging the decision, just opening her notebook and focusing on the theory the teacher had already started to jot down on the whiteboard.

When they’re given free time, however, to work on personal projects, Charlotte opens her sketchbook and sharpens her pencil, and without looking at Lola, begins speaking quietly.

“Tommy thinks we’d get along,” Charlotte sounds completely innocent and perfectly harmless, but Lola remember how Charlotte had looked at her, part deer-in-the-headlights startled at the realisation, and knee-jerk protective fury, at Vince’s party when she realised who Lola had been kissing. 

“So I’ve heard,” Lola doesn’t look up, but Charlotte’s pencil stills on her paper. After a beat, Lola turns to see Charlotte giving her a curious look. Propping her head up on her hand, Lola gives a thin, amused smile, “he also thinks I’d be good friends with Nikki Sixx; was he the one you yelled at, at the gig?”

Instead of being flustered or going red at the mention of the moment, Charlotte’s expression lights up, as if the idea somehow delights her, and slowly she’s nodding. All her earlier reservations and hostility was quickly leaving her.

“Yeah, actually I told Nikki you reminded me of him, actually -”

“I remind you of Nikki?” Lola’s grin widened, and she shifted to face Charlotte further. 

“He’s kind of a tool -” Charlotte blurted after a moment of contemplation, and Lola’s eyebrows raised in amused surprise. Charlotte’s quick to backtrack, “I mean, I’m not saying you are- well, I don’t know you, but I mean, Tommy -” Charlotte frowns at that, expression falling as she considered quietly, “actually, I mean, I love him, but he’s not the greatest judge of character; he thinks Nikki hangs the stars, despite never really speaking to him,” she pauses and heaves a sigh of realisation, “that probably why he thinks so highly of him -”

“I thought they were friends,” Lola’s genuinely surprised, given how kindly Tommy had spoken of him.

“Half the school is terrified of Nikki, half seems to be in love with him; Tommy’s in the second half.”

“And which half are you?”

“I’m the only person who seems to think he’s just kind of a pest,” Charlotte’s response is surprisingly mild, as if she doesn’t quite believe what she’s saying.

“He’s talented, though,” Lola offers, and Charlotte looks back to her, as if brought from her own thoughts. There’s a pause, a lull. Lola puts down her pen, and turns more fully to Charlotte, stretching her arm out over the desk, and resting her head fully on it, like a particularly smug cat stretching out in the sun. Charlotte is slower to put down her pencil, but does so after another moment, pristine fingernails drumming against her sketchbook for a moment. 

“He was talented,” Charlotte agreed, thought it sounds like she doesn’t quite want to, “my ex actually got me into his kind of music, he was a fan of Nikki’s too; I’d tell Nikki I enjoy his music but it’d go straight to his ego,” and she casts Lola a sidelong look, lips stretched into a smirk, which Lola returns. 

“I am a little bit of a tool,” Lola finally admits with a self deprecating grin, and Charlotte shakes her head.

“You’d fucking love him,” Charlotte tells her, with a strained, sort of resigned huff of laughter, like the concept of them meeting was a little bit horrifying, and already exhausting.

“You like his kind of music,” Lola circled back around to quickly, “never pictured you as a hard rocker, you’re very...” and she trails down, looking at Charlotte’s pristine cheerleading uniform, and thick, black tights, the only thing protecting her legs from the Winter air. The blonde shifts a little uncomfortably under the scrutiny, brow furrowing.

“I know,” Charlotte says flatly, crossing her ankles, far too self aware in the moment, “you expect me to just be listening to nothing but Abba and Madonna all day?” She sneers, suddenly haughty again, and Lola licks her lips, intrigued; she can tell she’s pushed a button, and debates for a moment if she wants to press it further. 

“Not all the time,” Lola said, sitting back up slowly, “but I mean, I’m kind of partial to Does Your Mother Know, there’s no shame in loving Abba,” she shrugs, and Charlotte lets herself visibly relax. 

“Never pictured you as an Abba fan,” Charlotte actually grins.

There’s a distinct lack of hostility in the air between the two girls by the time the class ends, after spending the entire class gushing over various bands across a surprising range of genres, and Lola quickly finds she appreciates how wrong her initial impression of Charlotte had been.

As they’re leaving for the day, or well, Lola’s leaving, and Charlotte’s heading to cheer practice, the conversation lulls as Charlotte grows thoughtful.

“Hey, just... Tommy’s kind of a hopeless romantic,” and even as she speaks, she knows Lola’s growing irate at Charlotte’s hesitant tone, “and honestly, the girls he goes for usually don’t... they don’t usually give him the time of day, and he obviously thinks the world of you, I just don’t want you to -”

“I’ve told him that I don’t want to date him; he’s the one who keeps hanging around me,” Lola’s own tone appears to surprise Charlotte, now that she understands the root of the other girl’s protectiveness, “we’re...” and the word catches in Lola’s throat for a moment, knowing that speaking it makes it true, “friends.” 

Lola glances at Charlotte out the corner of her eye, and sees the way Charlotte’s lips twist into a pleased little smirk.

“I was just making sure.”

love is stupid. happiness is admitting we aren’t better than stupid.

Leo Fields, thirty-nine years old, owner of soon-to-be-named Leo Diner’s in suburban LA, a graduate of the Culinary Institute of America, who worked in the luxurious Parker House restaurant in Boston and quit after ten years there, including three years as Sous Chef and one year as Head Chef, only to open his own 50s style diner a mere ten minutes away in Salem, has and will always claim his favourite food is Easy Cheese.

Once, a long time ago, Lola had asked him why.

She’s asked him a lot of things, why he’d left his high-end restaurant to essentially flip burgers, why he kept his hair long, what his tattoos meant -

Lola’s eight, sitting on the counter and swinging her legs while Leo was crushing garlic to add to their dinner, his hair tied back into a large bun atop his head.

“People will try and tell you that just because something is expensive, fancy, or higher class,” Leo had rolled his eyes exaggeratedly at that, putting on a voice to make his daughter laugh, “that it’s better; they are wrong. If something brings you joy, it is better than all things that do not bring you joy, no matter how fancy the things you don’t like are,” he’d told her very seriously, “better is not real, better is what you believe; better for you means healthier, and that’s real, but when people use better to mean good, they mean that it’s good in their mind, and maybe you agree, but maybe you won’t.” And he scrapes the garlic into the pan and oil cooking on low as he then began dicing onions.

“I use all my fancy training and knowledge to make foods I think are better, but now I get to also serve them with a smile, and I get to talk to the people I’m giving the food to, get to know them, let them know they’re welcome here,” he tries to smile while his eyes are watering from the onions, almost finished cutting them. “People in my old fancy restaurant didn’t want that, they wanted you to think they were better than you, and if you thought their food wasn’t good, that’s because you’re not fancy enough, and you’re not welcome here.” 

“But that’s wrong,” Lola said with a slight frown, looking to her father for confirmation, and after he wiped his eyes with the back of his hands, he beamed.

“Exactly,” he nodded and scraped the diced onions into the pan too, moving easily about the kitchen to pull mince from the refrigerator, “people liking something different to you is actually great; if everyone in the world liked Easy Cheese, we’d never be able to buy it!” And Lola laughed at that, the example making it easy for her to understand his point, “but making them feel bad for liking those things, that’s bad; that’s why I have my hair long, why I have my tattoos, they’re part of who I am, they’re part of my family’s history and where I come from, and I like them. If someone else is rude to me because of them, then I know right away that’s not someone I want in my life. People like to think they’re better than other people for stupid reasons sometimes.”

“Like if they’re fancy or not?” Lola asks, and Leo gives her a fond smile and nod.

“Like if they’re fancy or not.”

Leo’s not sure if Lola even remembers this, but he does. So when Lola, seventeen years old, standing in the kitchen, eating a ham and Easy Cheese sandwich after school, tells him that Charlotte, the girl in her art class, Tommy-from-the-party’s cousin, complimented her jacket, the pin-and-patch-covered, black, denim, proto-crust-punk, heirloom he’d loaned to her since she’d asked to wear it when starting a new school, and had barely gone a day without it, he can read into her smile even when it’s hidden behind her sandwich.

“Sounds like she has good taste,” Leo leans his hip against the counter top, legs feeling the warmth of the oven where he’s got a loaf of herb and garlic bread baking away. 

Lola spends a full twenty minutes enthusing about Charlotte’s taste in music, eyes bright and tone animated. He only interrupts her to hand her a packet of prosciutto and a bundle of asparagus, so she could help him prepare for dinner, but it doesn’t slow her down, hands working quickly, while Leo boiled potatoes and simmered some garlic in butter on a low heat. 

Both Lola and Leo know why Lola’s been so hesitant to make friends since moving, and she knows he’d never push her into friendship, but Lola also knows it hurts him to see her lonely.

“Hey dad, I’ve been meaning to ask you,” Lola says after a long pause, finally taking a breath after she’s finished recounting her day to him, “you know Queen, right?”

“Do I know Queen?” Leo jokingly scoffed, “Lola, I’m the one who introduced you to Queen.” He reminded, and Lola gave a small smile, but her heart wasn’t in it; she wasn’t usually nervous, but talking about this sort of thing still made her heart race a little. Seeing her hesitant expression, Leo’s own softens, and he turns down the potatoes to turn his full attention to her, “what about Queen?”

“I didn’t know Freddie’s sister was with the drummer,” Lola starts, fiddling with the final piece of asparagus. She’s quick to follow it up before she can chicken out, “and I didn’t know... she’s like Bowie, and Fred, and... and me, you know?” Lola finally wraps up the final vegetable and places it on the glass baking tray with the rest, before she looks to her father who was watching her pensively, hoping he understands what she’s trying to say.

“That’s little Rocket Mercury you’re talking about, isn’t it?” He asked as a smile stretched across his lips, “I heard that about her, I always thought she was so cool, she worked on Spinal Tap, you remember I took you to see Spinal Tap a few months ago?” 

Lola’s heart eases in her chest at his words, his warmth, the way he seems to reflect positively on the news. While Lola knew she didn’t have anything to worry about, since the whole reason Leo had taken her and moved across the country was her mother’s less-than-kind reaction to the news of Lola dating a girl, the memory of it all still made her nervous.

Leo’s entire face lights up, and he makes a loud exclamation, like suddenly remembering some vital information, snapping Lola out of her dwelling.

“How have I never played you any Dusty Springfield?” He announces, picking up the glass tray from the table and placing it to the side, “I’ve got some of her records in my collection,” the oven timer goes off and he asks Lola to watch the potatoes so they don’t overboil while he takes out the bread and puts the asparagus in, “Dusty’s like you too; she’s a pop-star from the sixties, lovely voice, told the Evening Standard she liked girls and boys all the way back in nineteen-seventy.” He says as he sets the timer for the asparagus, and Lola wraps her arms around him from behind, if only to hide how wide she’s smiling.

“She pretty?” Lola asked, grinning against his soft, woolen sweater. Leo gently pet her hands where they were wrapped around his middle, giving a warm laugh.

“Very; it’s no wonder girls and boys liked her too.”

Lola had never seen her father flinch in the face of change, and for that she would always be grateful for him. The only time she’d ever seen him lose his cool was when he’d come to her defense against her mother’s bigotted views; apart from that, she’d never known anyone more willing to go with the flow.

Take last week, for instance, Mick had taken Saturday off from the gas station to go look at the fixture Lola had mentioned not seemingly connected to anything. Leo had finally had the red and white, checkered floor installed earlier that week, and the booths had been reupholstered over Thursday and Friday in a shiny, inviting, deep peach, to compliment the warm aesthetic completed by the pleasantly sunny walls. 

One of the many things about Lola is that she know when people look at her father, they never expect him to be the embodiment of sunshine; six-foot-something, built like a tank from doing a majority of the manual labor around his diners on his own. His traditional, Hawaiian tattoos were on full display today, across his chest, arms, and legs, wearing a singlet and shorts despite it being the middle of winter, after spending all morning hauling an industrial freezer into the kitchen, with what little help Lola could offer. He wears his long, wavy black hair in a ponytail down his back; the only thing that ever betrayed the warmth of his personality was the crows feet by his eyes, the laugh lines around his mouth, and the kindness in his eyes themselves.

Leo Fields, teddy-bear in the body of a GI Joe, took one look at Mick Mars, the weary, rather scrawny teenager with barely any face visible for his long, shaggy, dyed black hair, and gave him a bright smile, ushering him inside. He introduces himself, and immediate asks what kind of music Mick listened to.

“I fucking hate Kiss,” Mick had said immediately, knee-jerk hostility, the way he was shifting his weight from one foot to the other being the only giveaway to how intimidated he felt.

“They can be a lot some times,” Leo had shrugged, gesturing to the jukebox, “I’ve already put a few of my favourites in, you wanna see if anything catches your eye?” Mick moves quietly, as if afraid to make a noise, even stepping in combat boots he barely makes a sound, and Leo makes mention that he’s going to freshen up, and that Lola knows what switch needs to be looked at. 

“Hendrix?” Mick says with a hint of pleased surprise, right before Leo leaves, and Lola’s father gives a nod.

“Put it on, man, turn it up loud; it’s Electric Ladyland in there, right?” And at Leo’s question, Mick nods. Leo gives a delighted thumbs up, and heads upstairs to the flat above the diner.

“That’s your dad?” Mick asks, voice low after Leo’s disappeared, hitting play on the Jimi Hendrix record. Lola’s sitting on the counter, swinging her legs; she knows looks like him, same face, same long, dark hair, same copper complexion, it’s usually the staggering difference in their respective physicalities that seemed to trip people up, so his confusion wasn’t a surprise.

“That’s my dad,” Lola agrees, with a slight nod, looking around the warm and inviting diner that still smelled like new vinyl from the seats. She’d light a candle or two later. 

Lola knows the rumours going around town about the diner, about how it’s owner was a chef, about how it’s hopefully going to serve better food than the last owners, but also how everyone knew very little about the new owner beyond that. It made her giddy, like she had a secret, to know that her father was capable of blowing their expectations out of the water with his food alone. Back in Salem, Leo’s was known for restaurant-quality food at, well, diner prices. All the fries were hand cut, there was always home made pie or slice or cookies on sale, the beef patties were made with real mince and mixed with Leo’s special blend of herbs and spices, and fish was delivered fresh, daily. 

Lola knew her father knew what it was like to be discriminated against based on his looks, and how hard he’d fought to prove his skills as a chef, so in turn, he hired based on attitude and experience, and trying to give those who may not have had a fair shot an opportunity. Leo had always paid well, treated his workers with kindness, and tried to give everyone the benefit of the doubt. The diner had only ever made a modest profit, despite it’s popularity, but it had never been about the money for her father.

Back at Lola’s old high school, if you were popular, you looked for a job at the mall, but if you were an outcast, a loner, or a stoner, you applied for Leo’s; her dad had the ability to bring out the best in people, no-one wanted to disappoint Leo.

Her dad would never go anything as gauche as brag, but he has always prided himself on the quality of his diner and his food, glad to be putting his years of training and experience to use for people who’s appreciate it. 

Mick clears his throat, snapping Lola out of her thoughts.

“Light switch?”

Mick thinks the switch probably connected to an exhaust fan the previous owner had removed, which baffled both Lola and Leo, seeing as how they’d had several exhaust fans installed, and the idea that this place had it’s one removed is unthinkable; how had they ever gotten the smell out?

After, Leo invites Mick up to have a look through his record collection, to recommend some for the jukebox, while he attempted a maple and walnut soufflé. 

The moment Mick mentions he wants to join a band, Leo lights up, peppers him with questions, what type of music he likes to play, his influences, what type of band he’d like to form. Seemingly unused to the overwhelming interest and positivity regarding his aspirations, Mick is almost startled into being forthcoming, and quickly warms to Lola’s dad.

While the soufflé’s in the oven, the three of them sit on the roof and smoke, while Leo reminisces about seeing Cream live, a few months after Lola was born, and how he’d swaddled her in his concert shirt, only for her to take a liking to it, and had used it as a blanket up until she started daycare. At hearing this, Lola ducks her head to hide her smile, knowing she still had that shirt, though it was more hole than shirt at this point, hanging in her cupboard. 

Occasionally, when she looks to him, Lola sees Mick regarding her with confusion, and okay, maybe she can understand why; he knows her to be reserved and dry, but with Leo, she’s outgoing and talkative and smiles so wide he can see her teeth. There’s barely a hint of her aloof façade around her father, and as Mick spends more time with him, it’s clear he can see why.

“Mick’s cool,” Leo announces with a grin when Mick himself has left, putting foil over the leftover soufflé for later, while Lola washes the few dishes and is more than happy to agree with him.

They spend Sunday decorating the diner, making it look less sparse with photos and hanging and various bits of music and pop culture memorabilia, while the jukebox blared rock and roll. A few people pass by in time to see Lola and Leo in an air guitar competition, but neither of them really care. Leo’s looks more like home by the time the sun goes down. 

there will always be someone better than you. but on the bright side, who cares?

Eileen sits next to her in AP French during the entire last week of school for the semester. Everything she does seems so perfectly calculated, this change in seating included, but she refuses to acknowledge it. Heather clicks her tongue, clearly annoyed that Eileen had taken the seat she had previously vacated the day Lola staked her own next to it, and judging by Eileen’s innocent little smile, that alone made it worth it.

Lola tries not to pay too much attention to Heather, pretty, mean, and popular, almost the exact stereotype Lola had assumed Charlotte to be before she’d actually befriended her. They only have French together, but Heather keeps watching her, Lola sees it out of the corner of her eye, but her glare has become more speculative, more thoughtful as the weeks have passed, and Lola’s not quite sure what to make of it. Whatever scathing personal attack Heather’s probably working on is her business, she doesn’t know shit about Lola, so Lola tries not to care.

Once Eileen sits next to Lola, the glare comes back in full force anyhow.

On Thursday, the last AP French lesson for the semester, Eileen offers Lola a stick of spearmint gum, and it feels kind of like a test. Lola takes the gum anyways, and Eileen smiles at her, surprisingly genuine. 

“You’re Charlotte’s friend,” Lola says, and Eileen’s smile widens.

“You’re the girl who kissed her cousin,” she says. Lola’s whole expression falls, mouth flattening into a thin, unamused line, ready to go on the defensive. 

“And?”

Eileen shrugs, says nothing more on the subject, instead, glancing at Lola’s hands.

“My mom would kill me for wearing black nail polish, but it looks so cool on you,” She says, and Lola bites back a jaded response about her own mother, looking to her own hands, and the fresh and shiny coat of polished she’d applied the night before. 

“Your mom kind of sounds like an asshole, if black nail polish is enough to get her riled up,” Lola says, without even thinking about how harsh the words sounded, but once the words are out, she adds, “and I know from asshole moms,” for good measure. Internally, she’s berating herself; if she talks about her mom, she’s terrified that she’s eventually going to answer questions about her mom, like where she was, and why Lola hates her.

“She’s just a perfectionist, and I don’t think black would suit me anyhow, so it’s not really an issue,” Eileen responds, as if she barely cares that Lola implied her mother was an asshole, and Lola lets herself relax a little, “I’m partial to a french tip,” Eileen holds out her hands to show her own manicure, the pale pink and white practically gleaming, obviously salon done. 

“I coloured Tommy’s nails with sharpie,” Lola says while looking at Eileen’s elegant fingers, and Eileen actually huffs a laugh at that.

“I saw; he’s very proud of them.” 

Something in Lola’s chest tightens at that; Charlotte seemed to be a good enough judge of character, and she liked Eileen well enough, so that, for now, was good enough for Lola.

Perhaps that’s why Lola had taken so long to actually speak to Nikki Sixx, despite both Charlotte and Tommy being adamant they’d get along, Charlotte’s proclamation that Nikki was kind of a tool held her back.

It’s not that she doesn’t know who he is; she’s figured out the guy who sleeps through her English classes, is trying to make an acoustic guitar in shop, and who is part of her music classes - once she’d decided to show up to those - is the same person she’d seen on stage in leather pants back at the pub. The guy who Charlotte had yelled at. A tool. Apart from the week the rumours had started circulating about her, he never paid her much attention, so she never felt the need to introduce herself. If he was a tool, she could leave him well enough alone.

Until the first day of the Winter break, apparently. Though for the record, he was the one who spoke to her.

There were technically two music shops in the local mall, a ten minute walk from Lola’s flat above the diner; she’s glad to be close to the CBD, but it also means she can’t justify asking her dad for a ride when it would take her less time to walk than it would for him to find parking. 

But Monday, December 27th, was absolutely fucking freezing. 

The mall itself is teeming with people looking to spend the money they’d gotten over the holiday period, and the workers had already taken down the gaudy Christmas Tree that had sat in the middle of the food court. 

Lola was there at her father’s behest, sticking up and handing out flyers announcing New Year’s Day as Leo’s grand opening, and that they were hiring. She gives everyone at the food court a flyer, sticks up several in various locations, and thinks about heading back to the food court for a second round, to catch any newcomers, or anyone she may have missed, when she spots the music shops.

Bass and Treble were owned by the same people, however Treble seemed to be geared towards more classical music, with pianos and violins and flutes and all manor of orchestra-esque instruments available, while Bass seemed to be committed to rock and roll. 

Nikki Sixx finds Lola crouched in front of the display of sheet music on sale in Bass. 

“Lola, right?”

Lola stands so fast at his voice that her head spins, but she tries not to let it show. She’s on alert when she looks at him, tense, already scowling, which only deepens when she sees who it is.

“Nikki Sixx,” his name is not a question when it leaves her lips, but he seems pleased rather than concerned, that his reputation apparently preceded him. He nods, and looks over at what she’d been examining. 

“Anything good?” He asked, and Lola looks over her shoulder at the display. She’d been seriously considering a book of Elton John’s hits for piano before he’d come along. 

“Still deciding; why?”

“No reason,” he shrugged, taking his time to look nonchalantly at the various amps nearby, “you look like you’d be into this sort of thing,” he notes, acting all smug and coy and weird; Lola rolled her eyes, but didn’t answer.

“You were at my gig, we’re you? Hanging out with that guy from the gas station, right? Mick?” Something about his tone had Lola on edge and defensive.

“You guys were okay,” she says flatly, making it clear as she can that that’s barely a compliment; Nikki, however, smile widely.

“Glowing review, I’ll add it to our poster,” he smirks, before he finally looks her over, gaze zeroing in on the flyers in her hands, “speaking of -” and he snatches one, not that she’s protesting, that’s another one she doesn’t have to get rid of. Nikki’s reading the flyer and frowning, while Lola lets her attention wander to the various keyboards they have on display.

“Where’s this?” Nikki pipes up, sounding genuinely interested, while Lola’s idly playing scales with one hand on the closest, off keyboard.

“A few blocks away,” Lola still hasn’t quite gotten the hang of the town’s geography, “across the road from The Kings Hotel, where I saw you play -”

“The old MacCready place?”

“It’s Leo’s now,” Lola says, arms crossed, sitting low in her hips as she regards Nikki, and the way he’s going over every little detail of the poster, “Charlotte says you’re a tool.”

“Charlotte just hates that she likes me so much,” Nikki doesn’t even miss a beat before answering, and when he looks up to catch Lola’s reaction, his grin is all teeth. Lola can’t help the slight smile she wears as she takes in his response.

“I can see why,” Lola’s not quite sure what she’s going for with her own response, but it comes out more teasing than cutting, and there’s something in Nikki’s eye, or in his smile, or maybe it’s in his easy laughter, that has her heart beating weird in her chest.

A moment passes between them, a shift in the tone, the energy of the interaction as Lola drops her immediate hostility; she’s been doing that a lot lately, but she tries not to dwell on it. It’s now she gets a proper look at him, at his ripped jeans and all black, leather jacket, hair sprayed to high heavens like he’s about to join Poison; he looks unkempt and mean, and Lola’s kind of really into it.

They’re checking each other out, sizing each other up, and they both seem to find something in the other they like, because Nikki’s grinning at Lola when gaze meets hers again, and she’s smirking right back.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” she tells him, hip cocked for a moment before she saunters past him, knocking into him with her shoulder purposefully. When Nikki stumbles back, he huffs a laugh, and Lola calls over her shoulder, “Leo’s is hiring by the way, Leo himself would probably love a fucker like you.”

[bevioletskies]

how sweet it is (to be loved by you)

summary: Although he would never admit it, Apollo really wants to impress Klavier by making dessert from scratch for their first date at his apartment, despite his complete lack of baking experience. With the help of his overenthusiastic sister (and no help from his mischievous cat), Apollo thinks he just might be able to pull it off.

word count: 4.8k | read on ao3

a/n: For @klapollo-week, day four of seven (prompt: "cooking"). All seven of my fics take place in the same continuity! However, each can be read as a stand-alone, with the exception of day seven being a sequel to day five.

This fic takes place at some distant point in time after Spirit of Justice where Apollo and Trucy have learned that they’re siblings, but doesn’t reference any specific plotlines otherwise. Fic title is from the song How Sweet It Is (To Be Loved By You) by Marvin Gaye.

“Don’t look at me like that, okay? I can feel you judging me, and I don’t appreciate it. I swear, I-I know what I’m doing! But it doesn’t help with you staring at me like you just know I’m gonna screw up!”

Mikeko blinked. “Mreow.”

“Polly, are you talking to your cat again?” Apollo turned to see Trucy walking towards him with huge bags of flour and sugar in her arms.

“Just a reminder - his name is Mikeko, and he’s an asshole,” Apollo grouched, hurrying over to help before she could drop everything on the floor. The last thing he needed was to get white powder stuck in his kitchen tile grout, again. There was a reason Ema wasn’t allowed to bring her forensics kit to his place anymore. “He peed on my rug the other day. I thought he was sick so I took him to the vet, and nothing. He’s an asshole.”

“You talk about your cat like you talk about your boyfriend, and I dunno which one’s worse,” Trucy mused, elbowing him playfully. “Though obviously, you love ‘em both, since that cat tree over there looks like it costs more than your TV. And, y’know, the fact that you asked me to help you bake for him! Er, your boyfriend, not your cat.”

“You don’t say,” Apollo said dryly, hoisting the bags onto the kitchen counter. “Klavier has an insatiable sweet tooth for a guy with a six-pack. I blame his parents and their baking habits.”

“C’mon, you love his parents,” Trucy giggled. She hopped onto the counter, nearly knocking the flour over in the process. Apollo shot her a dirty look that she blatantly ignored. “So, what’re we making? I’m surprised you asked me to help and then didn’t tell me what we were gonna do!”

“Sorry, sorry,” Apollo sighed, smoothing out the wrinkles in his apron. “We’re making, uh...bienenstich, or bee sting cake. It’s one of his childhood favorites, apparently; it’s got vanilla cream and…” He paused to glance down at the recipe on his phone. “...‘a crunchy caramelized almond topping’.”

“Sounds yummy!” Trucy replied, idly swinging her legs back and forth. Mikeko seemed very interested in chasing her untied shoelaces. “Seriously, though, why did you ask me? I mean, when I first started living with Daddy, I learned how to cook pretty fast, but I never really learned how to bake.”

Apollo softened. “I just wanted to hang out with you, Truce. That’s all.”

Trucy folded her hands over her heart. “Aww, Polly!” She then grinned devilishly. “Of course you did.”

“Now you’re an asshole, too,” Apollo informed her, kissing her cheek before turning back to the other side of the kitchen. He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw Mikeko, sitting in his sink, lounging lazily across every last mixing bowl he’d just washed. “Mik, what the hell - you were just on the floor a second ago, you - ”

“Meow,” Mikeko interrupted, his tail swishing nonchalantly through the air.

“...cool, cool.” Apollo wiped his hands, then proceeded to lift Mikeko right out of the sink and deposit him onto his cat tree. His paws were still damp; he mewled in protest. “Well, this is going about as well as I expected.”

“I’m excited,” Trucy offered, still beaming. “Let’s go!”

_____

Once Trucy found the appropriate playlist to blast on her phone (“Any performer worth their salt knows they need good background music, Polly!” “But...this isn’t a performance. Also, this is more Maroon 5 than I’m comfortable with.”), she got to work on re-washing the dishes Mikeko had ruined while Apollo shuffled around the kitchen, grabbing the rest of the ingredients. He’d bought quite a few items he didn’t usually have in stock, having next to no experience with baking. The recipe claimed bienenstich was easy to make, though he had his doubts when it came to his abilities - and his luck.

“So, how’ve you and Klavier been?” Trucy asked, drying the last of the spatulas. “Things must be pretty good if you’re baking for him.”

“Good, definitely good,” Apollo replied. “We’ve had a couple of hiccups, but nothing we’ve had to worry about, y’know?”

“Gee, how romantic,” Trucy drawled. “I was hoping for something juicier than that, Polly! Have you had any fun dates lately? Cute moments? Nice gifts? It sure was nice of his mom to send more apple strudels to the agency the other day!”

“Are you my sister, or a tabloid reporter?” Apollo flicked a spray of flour onto the front of her apron, ducking before she could retaliate. “Well, we had a good time at his parents’ house the other day. I made pretzels with his mom, and his dad had a ton of podcast recommendations for like, nerd stuff. We, uh...we even talked about Mom for a bit. They wanna meet her someday.”

Trucy’s eyes widened. “Really? When’s that gonna happen?”

“Not sure,” Apollo admitted. “But hey, do you wanna join us when it does? They’ve been dying to meet you, too.”

“Like you have to ask!” Trucy said brightly. She took a moment to methodically spread out all of their equipment across the kitchen counter, smiling in satisfaction when she was done. “There - we’re ready to go. What’s the actual first step?”

“The dough, it says,” Apollo said, turning back to the recipe. “We’re s’posed to mix the dry ingredients and wet ingredients separately. Although I guess the actual actual first step is measuring the ingredients.”

“I’ll do dry, you do wet,” Trucy replied, passing him one of the mixing bowls. “Y’know…‘cos you're such a wet blanket and all.”

Apollo blinked. “...okay, wow. We’re here to bake a cake, not roast me.” Trucy giggled mischievously, then got to work on measuring out the flour, sugar, yeast, and salt. Apollo, meanwhile, started with pouring the milk - easy enough - then stared at the egg carton and sticks of butter sitting in front of him. He’d never been intimidated by either before, but right now, he found them oddly daunting.

“Polly, are you trying to perceive the ingredients or somethin’?” Trucy asked, rapping her knuckles against the side of his head a little too sharply for his liking. “The cake isn’t a lie, you know.”

Once again, Apollo found himself looking at her incredulously. “Wha - th-that joke is older than you are!” Then, a brief swish of movement over Trucy’s shoulder caught his eye. “Wait…” Sitting on the opposite counter was Mikeko, who was innocently sniffing the bag of sliced almonds. “Mik - ”

“Mrrh,” Mikeko purred, his tail perking up at the sound of his name. He then flopped onto his side, rolling over to present his belly. “Mrrh?”

“Don’t ‘mrrh’ me, get away from there,” Apollo huffed, flapping his hands in Mikeko’s direction. He seemed unmoved. “Do you want me to lock you in my bedroom? Really? Is that what we have to do?” Sighing, Mikeko got up and hopped down from the counter, sauntering off to the living room with a sulky grimace. “Thank you.”

“You really do act like he’s human,” Trucy commented, watching Mikeko go. “Mr. Edgeworth’s like that with Pess, only he’s way nicer to her than you are to Mikeko.”

“Probably because Pess doesn’t sit on his chest in the middle of the night while he's sleeping and make him think he’s having a heart attack,” Apollo said wryly, reaching for the sticks of butter. If he let them sit out for too long, they were going to start melting. “How’s that whole...thing going, anyway? I feel like Mr. Edgeworth’s been visiting the agency a lot lately...only, nothing ever seems to happen.”

“Story of their lives, according to Ema and Aunt Maya,” Trucy said, rolling her eyes exasperatedly. “At this rate, I’m gonna get married before Daddy does!” She then smirked. “Or should I say, you’re gonna get - ”

“Hey, l-let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Apollo protested, his cheeks reddening. “How’s it going with the dry ingredients?”

“All done!” Trucy chirped, tilting her bowl slightly so he could see. “Wait, you still haven’t done the butter or eggs yet? Apollo!”

“Yeah, yeah, I was kinda busy dealing with that jerk over there.” Trucy glanced across the way to the living room; she could’ve sworn Mikeko was sticking his tongue out at them. Apollo then pushed the butter towards her. “Here - you do the butter, I’ll take care of the eggs.” The two of them worked in silence for a minute or so, the only sounds in the apartment being the crinkle of the butter’s parchment paper and the tap-tap of the eggs against the mixing bowl. It didn’t take long before their silence was broken. “...shit.”

“Eggshell?” Trucy guessed without looking up. “Sheesh, you really did need help. Here, give it to me!”

Apollo nudged the bowl in her direction, defeated, then wiped the sweat off his brow. “Damn, I didn’t think I was gonna be this bad! I made bread and pretzels with Klavier’s mom, and that went pretty well.”

“I bet it’s ‘cos she did most of the work,” Trucy teased. “Wait - Apollo, there’s more eggshell in here than actual egg!”

“I…” Apollo paused. “...have no excuses.” He then groaned. “Ugh, we still have so much left to do! This cake better be worth it.”

“It’s more like if you think your boyfriend’s worth it, and he is, isn’t he?” Trucy finished fishing out the last of the eggshells, then poked Apollo’s side with her yolk-covered finger. “So c’mon, let’s keep going. We mix them together, right?”

Apollo smiled softly. “Yeah. And hey, I’m...I’m really glad you’re here, Trucy. Thanks for helping me out.”

“It’s just baking, Polly, you don’t hafta be so dramatic,” Trucy said, though she was beaming regardless. “Now move it, or this cake’s still gonna be in the oven when he gets here!”

_____

A little over two hours later, Apollo jumped up from his couch at the sound of his doorbell. His face brightened when he saw Klavier on the other side of the door, dressed casually in an oversized hoodie and joggers. Klavier had been so particular about how he’d dressed for their first few dates that Apollo was always happy to see him in more relaxed attire. “Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?”

Klavier raised an eyebrow. “You always greet me in the strangest ways, schatz. Did something happen, are you okay?”

Apollo let out an internal sigh of relief; Klavier had yet to notice anything off-putting at all. “No, no, I-I’m fine, just - i-it’s been a long day, and it’s good to see you. I mean, it’s always good to see you - usually good to see you, depending on what’s going on, ‘cos not gonna lie, you still pull the most inane crap in the courtroom, but, uh. It’s good that you’re here. Hi.”

Klavier’s eyebrows remained raised. “...hi. Anyway, I brought dinner and dessert.” He lifted the two bags he was carrying so Apollo could see. “As it turns out, our favorite Taiwanese place was having a promotion. Spend thirty dollars or more, we get free tofu pudding. Achtung, I love a good deal!”

“That’s not what your bank account says,” Apollo teased. “And, er, that’s great, and we should definitely eat it while it’s fresh, but I actually made dessert for us, too.”

“Really?” Apollo was starting to think Klavier’s eyebrows were never going to come back down. “What did you make?”

“No spoilers,” Apollo said, tugging on Klavier’s sleeve. “C’mon, get in here before my neighbors spot you. I swear, I heard one of them blasting Love With No Chance Of Parole the other night. If they find out you’re my boyfriend, I’m never gonna hear the end of it.”

“Finally starting to recognize my songs, are you?” Klavier chuckled, stepping into Apollo’s apartment. “I’ll make a Gavinners fan out of you yet, baby.” He then looked around, curious, as he took off his shoes. “Your place doesn’t look nearly as bad as you made it sound. It’s...charming.”

“Real diplomatic way of saying it looks like crap,” Apollo said wryly, closing the door behind him. He was well aware of his peeling wallpaper and cat-scratched furniture, his dusty windows and his water-damaged ceiling. “Wait until you have to use my bathroom. I swear the sink is haunted.”

“How comforting.” Klavier’s eyes lit up at the sound of tiny little feet padding over in his direction; he crouched down so he could be at eye level, one hand outstretched to beckon him closer. “Why, guten tag, kätzchen! I’m so glad I finally get to meet you.” Mikeko stopped dead in his tracks, eyeing Klavier up and down warily. Then, without another sound, he turned and walked away, tail swishing pointedly in the air. Klavier looked up at Apollo dejectedly. “Ach, what did I do?”

“Mikeko only likes me and tolerates Trucy,” Apollo shrugged, trying not to laugh at Klavier’s miserable expression. “I wouldn’t take it personally. C’mon, let’s eat!”

“I’m going to take it a little personally,” Klavier muttered under his breath, following Apollo across the open living space. It wasn’t long before they were set up at the dining table, working their way through their Taiwanese beef noodles, fried chicken, and scallion pancakes. Apollo hummed happily as he ate; he hadn’t realized how hungry he was or how difficult baking could be until now. “So, how was your day?”

“Didn’t do much,” Apollo said, shrugging. “Since it’s my day off, I just kinda - y’know, played video games, watched some TV. Re-organized my bookshelf for the millionth time. I still haven’t decided if my brain likes it organized by author, title, genre, or color.”

“You also made dessert, apparently,” Klavier replied. “Are you really not going to tell me what it is?”

“Curiosity killed the cat, and even though my cat’s an asshole, I prefer him alive,” Apollo said, playfully nudging Klavier’s leg with his foot. “You can wait thirty minutes, can’t you?”

“Ach, the suspense,” Klavier laughed. “Fine, fine. Can I at least ask why you decided to bake for us?”

“It’s the first time you’ve been to my place, so I figured I’d do something nice,” Apollo said, sniffing very slightly. The smell of burnt sugar was starting to waft into his nose; he crossed his fingers underneath the table in the hopes that Klavier couldn’t smell it, too.

“Er - are you okay, Apollo?” Klavier asked, lowering his chopsticks. “You’re...sniffling. I didn’t accidentally bring some pollen in here, did I?”

“Sniffing, not sniffling,” Apollo corrected. “There’s a difference. And nah, it’s nothing. Just wasn’t sure if Mik might’ve peed somewhere...as he does.”

“Ah, cats,” Klavier said, nodding sagely. “Don’t tell your kätzchen I’m more of a dog person, bitte. We’re already off to a bad start as it is.”

“Brave of you, saying that out loud,” Apollo remarked. “If Mik comes after you in your sleep tonight, don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Klavier turned to look at Mikeko, who was currently on the kitchen counter, scarfing down his dinner. He lifted his head to make direct eye contact, chewing menacingly all the while. Klavier shuddered. “How about you, what were you up to today?”

“The most boring prosecutor’s office meeting ever, not that that’s anything new,” Klavier sighed, turning back to face Apollo. “And I had no cases to prosecute, so I spent my day wishing I was here instead. Even if you and Mikeko weren’t around, I’d rather watch your wallpaper die a slow death than listen to Herr Payne whine about his life while we’re all waiting for the coffee maker. I don’t see how it’s my or Herr Blackquill’s fault that he hasn’t had a raise in over ten years. If all he can brag about is making new defense attorneys cry instead of actually doing his job, then he should be grateful he still has a career to begin with, ach.”

Apollo blinked. “...huh. I guess I never really thought about the kind of office politics you have to deal with. Meanwhile, the only thing I’ve had to deal with lately is Athena nearly breaking Trucy’s finger during an arm-wrestling match.”

Klavier winced, popping a piece of chicken in his mouth. “Is that something that happens often?”

“More often than it should,” Apollo replied sagely. Klavier wasn’t sure whether to be impressed or slightly terrified.

After they finished dinner, Klavier insisted on helping Apollo with the dishes, seeing as how there was a huge pile of them in the sink, almost none of them from their dinner. Some were splattered with cake batter, others with vanilla cream. Thankfully, Apollo had already rinsed all the pans and utensils he’d used to make the topping, or else the sliced almonds would’ve given him away entirely.

“No peeking in the fridge or you’re not getting any,” Apollo warned, waving a spatula in his face.

“Are we talking about dessert, or...something else?” Klavier blinked innocently when Apollo continued to glare. “Ja, ja, I hear you.” He then paused. “Can I at least speculate? I have an educated guess.”

“You have zero patience sometimes,” Apollo complained, knocking his hip against Klavier’s, though with their height difference, it was more like his hip against Klavier’s thigh. “Let’s finish up here so you have nothing to complain about, alright?”

As they puttered around the kitchen together, Apollo had to subtly, but constantly direct Klavier away from the oven before he could see the remnants of a burnt pan still left on one of the stovetop elements; he hadn’t had enough time to completely scrub them away, though he had gotten rid of the worst of it. For once, he was grateful Klavier favored heavy scents, which seemed to be masking the smell for him.

“Mrrp.” Just as Klavier was drying the last of the plates, he felt something weaving between his ankles. “Mreow?”

“Have you changed your mind about me, kätzchen?” he asked, delighted. Mikeko aggressively smushed his face against Klavier’s calf in response. Apollo watched them both in amazement. “Is that a ja or a nein?”

“Mrrh,” Mikeko rumbled.

“Oh, this is definitely a trap,” Apollo warned. “He probably wants something from you, so don’t fall for it, Klav.”

“You talk about him like he’s an unruly witness on the witness stand,” Klavier said, amused. “He’s just a sweet little kätzchen, what could he possibly - ” Mikeko sneezed, violently.

“There it is,” Apollo sighed.

Klavier winced at the wet spot Mikeko had left behind on his sweatpants. “Achtung, gesundheit!” He then chuckled, shaking his head as Mikeko wandered off, clearly pretending nothing had happened. Either that, or he was embarrassed, though Apollo suspected it was more the former than the latter. “Like human, like cat, I see; it’s allergy season all around. Is it my cologne, do you think?”

“Might be,” Apollo shrugged, wiping his hands. “Okay, you big baby, are you ready for dessert now?”

“You’re acting like I’ve talked about nothing else,” Klavier protested, wrapping his arms around Apollo from behind and burying his face against Apollo’s neck. He then began pressing slow, deliberate kisses along the length of Apollo’s throat. His nose was momentarily filled with the scent of Klavier’s aforementioned cologne, the scent of sandalwood instead of burnt sugar. “I would love to have dessert, baby.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “Then we can eat what you made after.”

“Why am I dating you,” Apollo groaned, lightly shoving him away. Klavier snickered, hopping up onto the kitchen counter. “Sheesh, you’re like a cheap Hallmark card and a bad pick-up artist at the same time.”

“Is there such a thing as a good pick-up artist?” Klavier mused, still grinning. “Anyway, I’m serious. Let’s see what you made for us, liebe.” Apollo felt oddly nervous as he opened his refrigerator and carefully pulled out the covered tray from the top shelf. He set it down on the counter, right beside Klavier, then went to grab plates, forks, and a decent-sized knife. “Ah, a knife! Was my prediction correct?”

“Can you let me live for two seconds, please?” Apollo grumbled, softening when Klavier leaned down to kiss him on the cheek. “Okay, okay, careful around the guy with the knife in his hand. I-I’m gonna take off the cover now.”

They both held their breaths just as Apollo lifted the tray cover, as overly dramatic as it sounded. The sensation was stupidly similar to how they felt during a particularly stressful trial. Klavier’s eyes widened at the sight before him. “...bienenstich?”

“Wait…” Apollo leaned closer. “...what happened?!”

The state of his bienenstich was...questionable, to say the least. To start, the caramelized almond topping, which had hardened nicely in the refrigerator earlier, now looked like it had been through an earthquake, full of little holes and fissures. The thick layer of vanilla cream between the two layers of cake was oozing out the sides, having somehow melted since Apollo put it in the fridge over an hour ago. Finally, most of the bottom layer of cake was soggy and crumbling apart, clearly thanks to the melting cream.

“You gotta be kidding me!” Apollo exclaimed, setting the knife aside and hurriedly digging his phone out of his pocket. “Here, I took a picture earlier, i-it - it looked perfect, I-I made sure of it - ”

“I’m sure it did, Apollo,” Klavier said gently, rubbing his shoulders in sympathy. “Let’s see your picture, then.”

Groaning, Apollo held his phone up to Klavier’s face. “Seriously, look. I took so many photos, I was gonna send ‘em to your parents and thank them for teaching me the basics...I even made the topping three times ‘cos I burnt the first two attempts!”

“Is that what that smell was?” Klavier shrunk at Apollo’s venomous expression. “Sorry, baby, I just - I didn’t want to say anything in case it was, you know, a weird apartment smell.” He then perked up. “But if you ask me...looks have nothing to do with taste. That goes for both food and people, apropos, though I consider myself blessed that you’re the very best of both.”

“Har, har...also, ew,” Apollo added, wrinkling his nose. “Well, let’s hope you’re right.” With renewed vigor, he picked up the knife once more and carefully cut two modest-sized pieces, transferring them to their respective plates. He passed one plate to Klavier, then, after they exchanged nervous looks, they both took their first tentative bites. “...oh.”

“See? It’s just as I said!” Klavier declared, grinning victoriously. “I’m not going to pretend it’s the most perfect bienenstich I’ve ever had, but - it’s good, Apollo. It’s really, really good. I wouldn’t have known it was your first attempt if I hadn’t seen it. Even then, it’s hardly a disaster. Just a bit, ah, lopsided.”

Apollo was quiet for another moment or so, letting the taste linger on his tongue. The texture was a bit odd, thanks to the half-melted cream and the soggy cake, but it was just as sweet and satisfying as he’d been hoping it would be. “...huh. So I guess we didn’t accidentally swap the salt and sugar like I thought we might’ve done.”

“We?” Klavier echoed as he took another bite, more generous in size this time.

“Yeah, Trucy came over to help me. Guess I forgot to mention that,” Apollo added. “We haven’t had much time to hang out outside of work stuff lately, so...I thought it’d be a fun afternoon thing. Kinda turned into a nightmare instead? Like, the smell of burnt sugar is everywhere for a reason. Don’t look inside my oven, please.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t,” Klavier laughed, delighted. “I can only imagine what went on before I got here, achtung.” It wasn’t long before he was scraping his plate clean; he was still eyeing the rest of the cake hungrily. He turned when Apollo made a mild noise of disgust. “Ah - what happened?”

“What always happens around here.” Apollo plucked a tiny, but obvious cat hair from the end of his fork. “At least I didn’t eat this one. I think I’ve consumed more cat hairs than I’ve had paying clients.” He then looked at Klavier with raised eyebrows. “You’re not expecting another piece right now, are you?”

“I like bienenstich, okay?” Klavier said defensively, though he finally got down from the kitchen counter so he could put his fork and plate in the sink, dropping a sticky-sweet kiss on Apollo’s cheek on his way over. “Danke, baby, that was really good. Can I take some back with me, bitte?”

“Of course, babe. I’m certainly not eating the rest of it by myself,” Apollo snorted, finishing off his own piece. He put his dishes in the sink, taking a moment to rinse off his and Klavier’s plates, then let out a relieved sigh. “Well, at least it tasted good, even if it looked like crap.”

“I know it’s pointless, saying this to you, but - don’t worry so much, hm?” Klavier wrapped his arms around Apollo’s midsection; before Apollo knew it, he was being lifted and set down onto the counter, right where Klavier had been. He rolled his eyes good-naturedly, bringing his hands to rest on Klavier’s shoulders, his legs wrapped loosely around Klavier’s waist. “I’m impressed, liebling, I mean it. I know Mama’s been teaching you how to bake, but for you to do it on your own time for us to enjoy...I should really step up my game here, don’t you think?”

“Hardly,” Apollo said, dropping his head to Klavier’s shoulder, pressing a kiss to Klavier’s neck. “Thanks, Klav. Glad you liked it.”

“Bitte schön,” Klavier replied, gently lifting Apollo’s chin so he could kiss him properly. They both tasted like vanilla and honey; Apollo pushed Klavier’s hair out of his face so it wouldn't run the risk of getting sticky. Mere seconds later, they were interrupted by a tiny, impudent meow. Sighing, Klavier reluctantly broke away so he could stare down at the culprit by his feet. “Can I help you, kätzchen? I thought we were cool...until you used my sweatpants as a tissue, that is. These are Moncler, I’ll have you know.”

“Mreow,” Mikeko trilled, tail thrashing violently against Klavier’s leg. Shaking his head in amusement, Apollo got down from the counter so he could pick him up and cradle him, rocking him back and forth like a baby. “Mrrp.”

“I’m kinda curious to see if he’ll let you pet him,” Apollo said. “You wanna try?” Klavier lifted a cautious hand, then slowly began petting Mikeko, taking care not to disturb the sleekness of his long, thick fur. Klavier let out a soft laugh when Mikeko began to purr, his eyes closing contentedly as he smushed his face against Klavier’s hand, just like he’d done to his leg earlier. “Hey, would you look at that - it’s a not-Christmas miracle!”

“I feel as if I’ve been blessed,” Klavier chuckled, rubbing Mikeko’s ears for good measure. “Have I passed your secret test somehow, kätzchen? Am I a good partner for your papa?” Mikeko mewled happily.

“I can’t believe you didn’t even do anything and he already likes you,” Apollo sighed. “Mik, I thought you were smarter than this.”

“I can’t tell if you want him to like me or not,” Klavier said dryly, dropping a kiss to the top of Mikeko’s forehead. Mikeko’s purr only seemed to intensify. Apollo rolled his eyes; now Klavier was just showing off. “So now that all of our bienenstich excitement is over, should we put a movie on, maybe try a small bite of that tofu pudding? I have a desperate need to cuddle after the day I’ve had.”

“Day you had?” Apollo echoed, neatly depositing Mikeko back onto his cat tree. “You said you had a boring meeting and no trials. How bad could it have been?”

“I had to listen to Herr Payne gush about his wife that definitely exists,” Klavier bemoaned, lifting the back of his hand to his forehead as if he were about to faint. Apollo was sure if he rolled his eyes any harder, he would sprain something. “Herr Debeste kept asking to borrow a pencil for some reason. I’m serious, baby, don’t laugh at me, he kept knocking on my door every thirty minutes - ”

“The only baby I see around here is you, baby,” Apollo teased, prodding Klavier in the chest. “But fine, fine, I hear you. You go sulk on the couch and pick out a movie while you wait. I'm gonna put the bienenstich back in the fridge and send your mom my pre-disaster pictures. Maybe she’ll have some advice for my next attempt.”

Klavier perked up. “Next attempt? You mean you’re going to make it again? Ah, ich liebe dich, mein schatz, mein süßer, mein - ”

“Oh my god,” Apollo groaned, sighing. “Maybe, okay? Maybe. I’m not making any promises, I don’t want my apartment to permanently smell like burnt sugar hell.” Still, Apollo found himself biting back a smile, kissing Klavier briefly before lightly nudging him in the direction of his living room. “...and I love you, too. Dork.”

_____

a/n: Welcome to my fourth entry for Klapollo Week 2021! Continuity-wise, this is the sixth of seven fics, but again, there is no need to read the others to follow each fic on its own. Mikeko being a jerk who only likes maybe three people at a time is one of my favorite random headcanons! I know I set a lot of my fics in Apollo's apartment (or Klavier's), but one of the main reasons that I do is for Mikeko and Mikeko alone. If you're looking for a Mikeko-centric fic (kind of), if you could read my mind is one of my favorite short-ish fics that I've ever written.

Thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoyed! Likes and reblogs would be much appreciated. Hoping you’re all safe and healthy and doing well ❤️

[chipsfics]

Part 1 - Introduction/Invitation

Part one of my currently-unnamed Inanimate Insanity fanfiction :)! Feat. Tissues and Yinyang. Some shipping but not a whole lot ;)

Rated: PG (A few heavy themes)

Hope you enjoy and much more to come !! :D

~~~~

Unlike Tissues, Yinyang knew he was going to be eliminated. Yin did, at least. He figured after a certain amount of time, the viewers just saw him as... Annoying. He had used up his entertainment value- Inanimate Insanity had packaged and squeezed dry his "quirks" of any and all comedy until they were just problems again. He was sure his other half knew elimination was at least a possibility- He was probably too preoccupied with his own thoughts, which sometimes blended together with Yin's. A lot of... "Everyone here hates me," and "I hate everyone here." Seemed like the situation was stressing them both out.

Weeks later, After they were all freed from the closet, Yinyang watched the episode where he was eliminated. Yinyang cried, not because he lost, but something kind of got tangled in his brain watching the way he acted. He was grinding his teeth watching the playback, Yang holding back tears and Yin letting them flow freely. If only, if only, if only. Needless to say, he didn't really remember a lot about what happened cooped up in that tiny closet. He mostly hid in the corner and tried not to grind his teeth down to his gums. Tissues, on the other hand, barely knew what was going on. One place to another, off a plane, rushing from iceberg to dodgeball court, grass field to bleachers- Next thing he knew he sneezed himself through a portal and ended up cooped up in a closet. Once the dizzy feeling cleared and he ended up face down, alone, in an empty closet with a locked door- One thing was abundantly clear: He lost. As usual. When another contestant stepped through the portal, the relief he felt was overwhelming- and as the closet filled up with eliminated contestants, the sense of relief he felt was replaced by self loathing and shame- Everyone else pretty much all hated him. As usual.

When they finally got a breath of fresh air, space to move around, personal rooms and even a breakfast juice bar- After everyone who came in contact with him was thoroughly sprayed down by Soap, nobody hated him anymore. They just didn't talk to him. Although, when he walked in the hallway, Soap would follow a safe distance behind him and clean where he last stepped with disinfectant. That didn't really help his self-esteem.

One quiet afternoon, everyone was still trying to settle into their new (but much nicer) living situations, Tissues got paired with the roommate who hated him the most. One Trophy horseplay, who was the one who stomped his face in more than a couple times while stuck in the closet. Of course, due to the technological advancements of melife, Mephone brought him back immediately after he got the death notification- bzz-ding, Tissues died again, to Trophy's frustration. Living with Trophy, he tried to keep all of his stuff in one corner- And he was kind of being shoved over by Trophy's ever-growing collection of sports equipment. Apparently he had nowhere to put it except for cluttering up their shared bedroom. He didn't have much things anyway- and he spent most of his time in the front game room. Tissues, Yinyang, and a few wanderers in and out every day in that same room, that same dinky game system, the same 4 outdated platforming games. He didn't remember the names of those old things, and he wasn't great at them anyway- It'd surprise you, but he didn't have the best hand-eye-coordination. 

Yinyang was also bad at them. He'd argue and curse and throw the controller and tug at the wires, Tissues would follow slowly behind him in co-op play. It was fun to play with someone who had the same skill level as he did, and it seemed like Yinyang had mellowed out a little from his appearance on the show- Having a bit more freedom and alone time seemed to make Yang calm down and Yin become cheerier and more friendly. If Tissues could say one Inanimate Insanity contestant was his friend- It was Yinyang. They had something big and terrifying in common- They were both freaks. The unlovable tend to find a way to love each other.

~~~~

Yaaaawn. Tissues stretched and looked at the clock- 11:30, about 3 hours earlier than when he usually woke up. He wiped the drool off his face, got up and feverishly brushed his teeth. He realized the breakfast bar was still open for another 30 minutes- More like 25 now that he'd dragged himself out of bed. OJ wasn't the world's most attentive hotel owner, but the breakfast bar seemed like something he was passionate about. There were rumors that he refilled the cereal dispensers by himself and doesn't let anyone else do it. Soap always threw a fit when someone else did the chores for her, although she seemed to have a quiet respect for OJ's breakfast bar. Tissues took the elevator down- He didn't trust himself to go down the stairs because of his vertigo. Lo and behold, someone else bumped into his hand reaching for the down arrow. It was Yinyang! 

"O-oh, go ahead, you first," Tissues said bashfully. 

"No, you first!" Yin chirped. "I assume we're both going down?" 

"Yeah, I'm gonna try and catch the last wave of breakfast, guyse. I'm not usually up this... SNIFF. Early," Tissues said, and jammed his finger into the down button, which started to glow a faint yellow.

"Wait, is the free breakfast thing still open?" Yinyang said, "The one where you can make waffles with the little do-it-yourself waffle iron?" 

"Is that what that is? I thought it was just a weird smoothie dispenser. I thought the stuff that came out of it tasted like waffle batter," He sniffed.

Yinyang laughed. Tissues would have been peeved, but it didn't seem like Yinyang was laughing AT him. That, or just the fact that his laugh was crisp and clear as a ringing bell. Tissues didn't think he heard him genuinely laugh a whole ton of times. It was nice. 

As they waited for the elevator to come up, Tissues noticed one of Yinyang's eyes blinking and drooping. Yang's side seemed to be sleepier than Yin's- His body lagging to one side until he had to jerk back into a standing position. Was it possible for one half to fall asleep and the other half to stay awake? DING. Tissues' train of thoughts was interrupted by the elevator door sliding open. They stepped in, and for the entire ride down Tissues fought as hard as he could not to sneeze- In a closed place like an elevator, that could be very annoying. More annoying than usual. The elevator ride was mostly silent and awkward- It seemed that Yang almost tried to fight on what button to press, but he was too tired and hungry to cause any trouble this early. It was a Saturday after all, the slowest days in the hotel, and once they made it downstairs to the breakfast bar, there didn't seem to be many contestants looking for something to eat so late. Tissues grabbed a paper plate and put a blueberry muffin on it, and got a small paper cup of orange juice. He noticed Yin and Yang were having some sort of quiet argument about what to get for a drink. Tissues couldn't help but overhear-

"Coffee." Yang spoke in a harsh whisper. "Not today, Water." Yin replied. "Coffee." "Juice, then." "Ok, Fine." "Apple juice." "I want orange." "Not today. Apple Juice feels more..." "Pure?" "Yeah." "Bull." "Let's just get our food, I'm too tired to argue." "..." "..." "Me too." 

Tissues seemed distracted, until Yinyang moved down the line and bumped him further down. He looked away, face flushed, and moved to the couch, flicking on the TV- He felt like he had just intruded on Yinyang's privacy, but Yinyang didn't seem to care. He'd grabbed apple juice and a pastry of some kind, filled with cream cheese. Yinyang and Tissues ate together, Tissues sitting on the carpet and Yinyang on the couch close by, both staring at the gameshow program that was playing on TV- something that aired often, it was starting to get old. That and the fact that the episodes are hard to tell apart. Same host every time, same backdrop, same formula. Because of this, Tissues' mind couldn't help but wander, and so did his eyes. Yinyang was focused intently on the tv, one hand, Yin's, tapping the sides of the paper cup and the other, Yang's, lifting the pastry to his mouth and taking a bite. They seemed to have figured out a good way to eat without arguing. 

"So," Tissues said, breaking the silence.

"Yes?" Yin said politely. 

"Can i sit next to you guyse?" Tissues asked. Yinyang looked a bit puzzled.

"Sure. Why not?" Yinyang said, "Just try not to get any of your germs on me." Yang grumbled. Yin pinched his arm. "Don't be rude," Yang growled, but once Tissues got up and hopped up onto the couch cushion next to him, Yang seemed to have forgotten about it. Tissues was so short he had to put in a lot of effort to get onto the couch- It was almost comical. Because of that, he preferred to sit on the ground. People seemed to prefer him down there anyway. It was kind of nice, up there, though, and honestly the only thing he felt different was... More comfortable, and taller. It was nice. He hadn't even noticed the TV program changing from the game show to an ad break- some kind of infomercial on chairs. 

"Sooo.... Do you want to go and check out the pool today? I've heard that there's like, complimentary towels. I haven't actually been there yet," Tissues said.

"Are you... asking us to hang out with you?" Yinyang said curiously. 

"Well sure," Tissues smiled. "We're friends, right?"

"Umm..." Yinyang's face flushed a bright red. "Of course!" Yin chimed. 

"Whatever." Yang added, clenching his jaw and slightly baring his sharp teeth.

"I just didn't wanna show up alone. Can you swim?" He asked. Yinyang looked away.

"Not really," He said, embarrassed. "It takes a lot of coordination, and Yin hates listening." Yang said aggresively. Yin glared at his other half. 

"Ohhh thats cool. I can't either," Tissues replied. "I was just planning on sitting by the side. Maybe putting my feet in- Its just nice to have like... uhh. SNIFF. Change of scenery... I like the chlorine smell." 

"Well that sounds nice!" Yinyang said. "But we need to go back to our room first, Right?" Yang sounded like he was directing the question less towards Tissues and more towards Yin. 

"Oh. Well that's ok. I'm here all day," Tissues said, pulling his mouth into a goofy half-smile. Yinyang finished off his apple juice and got up, silently turned and smiled towards Tissues, and walked away. Tissues wondered what he was thinking about. 

~~~~

[buckybeardreams]

Loss

Chapters: 1/16

Fandom: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe

Rating: Mature

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Brock Rumlow/Sam Wilson, Clint Barton/Brock Rumlow/Sam Wilson

Characters: Clint Barton, Sam Wilson (Marvel), Brock Rumlow, Steve Rogers, Tony Stark, James "Bucky" Barnes, Lila Barton, Cooper Barton, Nathaniel Pietro Barton, Kate Bishop, Harley Keener, Darcy Lewis, Rebecca Barnes Proctor

Additional Tags: Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Minor Steve Rogers/Tony Stark, Minor Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers/Tony Stark, Past Clint Barton/Laura Barton, Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Sappy, Happy Ending, Kid Fic, Grief/Mourning, Depression, brief alcohol abuse, Brief suicidal thoughts, Separation Anxiety, Insecurity, Misunderstandings, Protective Brock Rumlow, Sam Wilson is a Saint, non-sexual nudity, Soulmates, Mates, Non-Explicit Sex, Anal Fingering, References to Knotting, Bonding, Claiming, Claiming Bites, Wordcount: 10.000-30.000, Breastfeeding, Co-Sleeping

Summary:

After Clint lost his soulmate he didn't think he'd ever love again, then he started to hook up with Brock. At first it was just a nice distraction but after a while he thought that maybe it could be something more, that is until Brock met his own soulmate. Clint was sure that would be the end of things, but now Sam and Brock both are flirting with him and he doesn't know what to do with that.

This is the 2nd part in a 3 part series, second chances, but they can be read as stand alone fics so it's not necessary to read the first one to enjoy this one.

You can find part 1 on tumblr or on ao3.

I'm not gonna be posting the full chapters for this fic here after this one, but you can read them on ao3. I'll be updating every Mon, Wed, and Fri.

Words: 1,890

Tony grinned when Brock opened the door, Harley strapped to his back and a bottle of sparkling apple cider in his hand.

"I brought non-alcoholic beverages!"

Brock laughed and pulled him in for a hug.

"You still doing that attachment parenting thing," Brock teased.

"Yeah, you?"

Brock nodded.

"Yeah, Sam's got Sonny right now. He took him for a walk in the park so I wouldn't strangle him."

"Oh no, is it teething?"

Brock raised a brow.

"What? No, not Sonny. Sam. He's driving me crazy. Sonny's a perfect little angel. He gets that from me."

"Uh-huh, sure," Tony indulged, passing the sparkling cider to Brock and following him into the kitchen.

"How's the restaurant? Running smoothly?"

"Smooth enough anyway. Running a business is no easy task, but I manage."

"I'd hope so, seeing as you are the manager," Brock teased as he grabbed the bottle opener and opened the cider before pouring it into glasses.

Tony rolled his eyes at the lame joke.

"At least the transition from a bar into a family restaurant by day, bar by night went smoothly. Everything else is just icing on top now. With the renovations done and the remodeling out of the way, now all we have to do is manage the staff. Well, then there's the paperwork and finances and whatnot, but Steve handles all of that."

"Yeah, I gotta admit, as much as I love hanging out with your baby daddy, I do miss you at all the mommy and baby classes."

Tony hummed, shrugging.

"Not really my thing, but Steve says Harley loves the baby ASL. He's not a fan of the swim lessons though."

Brock nodded in understanding.

"Sonny hated those ones at first too. He doesn't really care too much about the ASL, but the messy arts class is right up his alley. Sam says it's because I insist on having a sparkly clean home. He acts like it's a bad thing. A home can't be too clean."

Tony just hummed, because his Alpha had a similar need to keep things spotless and Tony definitely didn't care for it. At least Steve was willing to do all the chores for him, because Tony would definitely object if he had to do the cleaning. A place could definitely be too clean, but he wasn't about to open that can of worms with Brock. 

"Yeah, Steve was disappointed that Harley wasn't more into the art classes. He just doesn't like getting messy. He takes after Steve like that, kind of a neat freak, and yet Steve loves painting, which I really don't get. His paintings are fabulous though and his studio is a mess. The rest of the house though? Spotless."

Brock laughed and they headed to the couch to sip their sparkling cider.

Harley started to squirm when his feet touched the cushions and Tony set his glass down, standing back up to remove him from the carrier.

"Hi, pretty baby! Look at you! You're so pretty!" Tony cooed at him.

Harley just giggled and reached out to grab at his curls. Tony scrunched up his face and pried his grabby hands out of his hair.

"Okay, enough of that. Mommy likes his hair too much to let you pull it all out."

Tony set Harley down in a large octagon-shaped playpen. It had pillows and toys in it that Harley immediately made a beeline for. It's what Brock liked to call a yes zone, because pretty much everywhere else in their apartment he had to say no to Sonny constantly, but in his playpen everything was a yes.

"How are things going with you and Sam?" Tony asked, sitting back down.

Brock groaned.

"I'm not sure."

"Uh-oh," Tony said and Harley looked around like he was trying to figure out what was an uh-oh. "Trouble in paradise?"

"I don't know. Maybe? Things aren't bad or anything. Actually Sam's kinda annoyingly perfect. Sometimes I feel like it's hard to live up to that."

"Aw, Brock, I don't think Sam cares so much about that."

"I know he doesn't," Brock groaned. "Because he's freaking perfect and I'm a lost cause."

"No, you're not. You just need to give yourself a break. Trying to be perfect is just going to leave you feeling like you're not good enough."

Brock narrowed his eyes at him.

"When did you get to be so wise?"

"When my firstborn turned one," Tony teased, nudging him with his shoulder. "No, seriously though. Don't worry so much about trying to keep the house perfect and all sparkly clean and worry more about living your life. Spend more time with Sam."

"I spend almost all of my time with Sam."

"Yeah, but Sonny's there too. There's nothing wrong with family time, but when was the last time you went on a date night?"

Brock wasn't even sure. It had been months.

"You need to get yourself a babysitter, or drop Sonny off with us, and then spend some time alone. Remember why you became mates in the first place. It wasn't because you wanted a baby. It was because you loved each other and you fell in love at first sight. So spend some time looking at each other again and maybe you'll find that spark you used to have."

Brock sighed and downed the rest of his cider.

"God, I wish there was alcohol in this."

"Don't we all?"

They could hear the sound of keys in the door before it opened and Sam came in, Sonny strapped to his belly. Brock got up when the baby started saying mamamamama and pulled him out of the carrier.

"Hi, angel, look at how big you are? You want to go see Tony? Show him your new skills?" Brock cooed at his son, setting him down on his feet. "Go get him!"

"Come here, Sonny! You gonna walk to me?"

Sonny took a few wobbly steps before he got close enough for Tony to reach out and snag him up.

"Woah, you're so big! Such a big walker, huh?" Tony praised the baby. "Did you see that, Harley? Did you see how big your friend is? Walking up on his feet like a big boy? You're gonna be doing that soon too."

Harley was already pulling himself up and walking around while holding onto things, so he probably would be walking soon. He was only a month behind Sonny in age, so they played really well together, for the most part at least. Sharing wasn't any baby's strong suit.

Tony set Sonny down in the playpen after they cooed over him for a few minutes and Harley immediately crawled up to him and tried to crawl on him. Sonny shoved him off, but Harley wasn't offended. He just giggled and rolled over onto his belly, so he could push back up and go after the ring stacker. Sam came over somewhat hesitantly. Brock had been pretty irritated this morning, so he wasn't sure if he should give him space or not.

"Hey, Tony! It's good to see you!"

"You too! Always happy to come over and eat all of your food."

Sam laughed.

"You doing good, babe?" Sam asked Brock carefully.

Brock nodded, biting his lip. He had been pretty distant and irritable the last few weeks and he felt bad about it. Sam didn't deserve that. He was such a good Alpha and a good dad.

"Yeah, I'm good, Alpha," Brock said, licking his lips.

He patted the cushion next to him.

"Wanna sit with me?"

Sam looked surprised for a moment, then he smiled softly and sat down, looking like he'd just been given the best gift ever when Brock curled into his side and rested his head on his shoulder.

"I've missed you," Sam murmured in his ear.

"Missed you too, Alpha."

 *****

Brock was trying to make more of an effort and Sam definitely didn't miss the signs. He was more affectionate and he even got Sam a gift. It was important to point out that while Sam had felt the strain on their relationship, he hadn't really been upset at Brock about it. It was just one of those things where he assumed Brock would come around eventually and, well, he wasn't wrong.

"What is this?" Sam asked when Brock tossed a water bottle at him.

He caught it thanks to his great reflexes, not because Brock had given him any warning before throwing the metal cylinder his way. Brock rolled his eyes.

"What does it look like? It's a water bottle, Sam."

"Yeah, but why?"

"I got it for you," Brock said with a shrug.

Sam's heart fluttered at the thought of Brock getting him something, but his brows furrowed in confusion.

"I already have a water bottle."

"No, you don't. I threw it away."

Sam pursed his lips.

"May I ask why?"

"No, you may not," Brock said plopping down on the couch.

Sam raised his brow at him and Brock ignored him for a moment, flicking on the TV before glancing back at Sam with a groan.

"Fine, I got you a new one, because I read that the owner of Hydra Flask is an asshole who doesn't support Omega rights. I can't have my Alpha running around sporting that logo on his bottle, now can I? People might think you're a traditionalist. God forbid."

Sam blinked at him for a moment before a fond look fell over his features and he sat down next to Brock, pulling his Omega into his side. Brock blushed when Sam pressed a kiss to his cheek.

"Thank you, love."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Brock grunted, but he leaned into Sam's side, turning to press his face into Sam's neck and hide a small smile.

Sam could feel it against his neck, but he didn't comment on it. He just ran his fingers through Brock's hair until his Omega yawned and made a sleepy little whimper.

"Come on, baby. Let's go to bed," Sam said softly.

Brock grunted, but didn't protest when Sam scooped him up off the couch and carried him off to bed. His back hit the mattress and his hands shot out to grab Sam's shirt, whining when Sam gently pried his fingers off of him.

"Shh, you're okay. Just let me undress you, then I'll cuddle with you."

Brock pouted, but let his Alpha do what he wanted. When Sam climbed into the bed he was wearing only his boxers and Brock had on only his shirt. Brock usually liked to sleep naked, but he had whined when Sam asked him to sit up, so Sam had just rolled his eyes, pressed a kiss to his forehead and left his shirt on. 

Sonny usually slept with them, even though he technically had a crib in the nursery, but tonight was one of those rare nights that he actually was using that crib that usually stood around empty like a decorative piece. Brock rubbed at his eyes, turning to press his face into Sam's neck and Sam smiled softly, wrapping his arms around him.

"Night, baby," Sam whispered softly.

"Night, Alpha, love you."

"Love you too, Omega."

Things weren't perfect between Sam and Brock, but that didn't mean they didn't love each other. Just because something isn't perfect, doesn't mean it's wrong.

[muffindaddystyles]

DENTIST THE BAD BOI (PART2)

Word Count: 17k.

A/N: Heavily inspired from 90's rom-coms, so if your heart swoons out of loneliness it's not on me sistas -- doctor Harry my fav.

Summary: Y/N's much tolerable when less grumpy then more kissable, more loveable and cuddleable and Harry wants to be more than just fuck buddies that he ends up giving Y/N a tooth ache.

Pairing: Dentist Harry × Artist reader, Frenemies to bestfriends to lovers, platonic affection and loads of bestie fluff, smut and domestic love.

MASTERLIST | REQUEST FOR BLURBS FROM THIS FIC ARE OPEN | PART 1

“Yes. I want you to stay.” She doesn’t hesitate this time. Her words honest and full of plead, she needs him, she wants him, she wants to have him.

Harry’s lips quirks up into a loopish smile at that and he hoists his knee up and above, sinking his palms into her soft mattress besides her temple and blocks the mellow sunshine that peeks through her lace curtains. Her heart squeezes out of her rib-bones and turns gooey somewhere within her insides as her lungs fill with his minty and warm ardour and if she'd be not this flushed and throbbing between her sticky thighs she'd have cracked a dentist joke.

“Y’want me to lick y'cookie f'ye?” He gives her a bunny grin and his fingertips tickles her shoulder; milky skin twinkling at him from the neckline of her shirt that’s barely sitting there and she pouts raising her hands to smack his chest, but he grabs them and tugs her forward, tutting sternly, “I want an answer.” His foresty pupils darkens around rims and her throat turns scratchy. So, she bobs her head up and down eagerly, feeling the metal around his fingers smouldering into her wrist and the thought of it on her clit makes her mewl.

It dings his adam apple sexily and his eyes turn soft and cheeks rosy, Harry doesn’t know what she likes or not so he’s gonna start tentative and careful and gradually ease her into taking big things after, letting her drip onto sheets for hours if she’d like him edging and teasing her.

She watches him with doe-innocent eyes and Harry almost ruts his hips against the mattress from the way his cock twitches weepily -- sensitive against the fabric of his joggers.

He keeps their intense eye contact while sliding back down between her legs and cares his calloused warm palms under the back of her cushiony fleshy thighs and bends her knees up, his eyes flicker towards her tummy that exposes to him when she stretches out gracefully in reaction to his tingling touch.

Making sure she’s alright, his nimble taps her ankle and when she breathes out a whiny “yes.”,

He gropes the insides of her thighs and spreads them apart and presses them down letting her make puny noises when the cool air teases her folds, she smells so good for him, “Already such a puddle, Muffy. G'na gimme a sugar rush from ye'sweetness.” He darts his pink tongue out to moisturize his petal lip and his grunt pleased and heavy upon seeing her gush more arousal just from listening him talk.

He spreads her swollen pussylips apart with his middle and pointer finger and her chin tips towards the ceiling, mouth apart around a gasp when he glints a smirk towards her all while poking his tongue out and flattening it against her clenching entrance and licks her juices up.

“Does it feel good?” He hums nonchalantly nosing at her little button and paints his lips with her wetness. She stays a bit stiff. Not making any move and staying put in her position. Harry takes her clit between his teeth when she whimpers out and her body turns taut, her hands balling at her sides.

“Y've t’use y’words with me, moppet. It works two ways, always.” His hands reaches blindly for her wrists and he puts them over his poof of hair but it remains fisted and he rubs his big hands up and down where her thighs meets her sweet cunt, “Try t’ relax. Can y'do that fo'me, pet?”

His brows pinches together into a frown. His glistening lips from her turning into a grumpy pout when she doesn’t respond — was he unable to make her feel hot and excited? she should tell him if she didn’t like it.

“Y/N ...” He raises his head slowly from between her thighs and his jaw goes slack, his eyes bursting wide seeing her holding her breath and hiding her face underneath her forearm, ���Shit. Shit. Y/N!” He’s quickly crawling towards her and sliding his hand under her back, brings her to his chest with his fingers wrapped around the nook of her elbow.

“Breathe, Sweetheart. ‘s okay.” Is this what she was talking about? Is this why she has specific days for touching herself? Poor bambi. He massages her back with tender circles and sighs in relief when he feels her chest calming down back to normal.

“Y/N ...” He pushes her away from shoulders to look down at her sternly and takes her hair into his grasp and slinks them to side, “What’s happenin’ with ye'muffy?” He gives her a downturn of lips and quirk of brow indicating her that there isn’t any escape for this time.

For fuck’s sake! He’s her bestfriend. He should know atleast that she’s alright!

He gauges for her eyes when she presses her palms into his knees and lifts her bum a tad from the sheets, shy embarrassment turning the tips of her ears pink, manipulating her toffee lip in her mouth and Harry pushes back the hair that are falling in her eyes.

She’s feeling hell load giddy and humiliated to tell him this.

Harry startles back, blinking rapidly when she squeaks out in one breath, “’M scared to hurt you!” He pulls her forward with his hand wrapped around the nape of her neck and frowns.

His touch with her tender and un-conceit, when usually he’s a domineering in bed and riles them enough for them to beg and moan pathetically for him.

“What? Scared ---.. hurt?” He tries to piece what she said together but it doesn’t make any sense. So, he guesses that he'd have to pry some more from her, “What're ye' talkin' bout muffy?” He sighs noticing the way she clenches the hem of her shirt and mumbles something but Harry’s giving her a piercing glare and it makes her ramble anxiously.

His hand affixed at her skimmed from under her shirt and his thumb keeps on circling her hip-bone.

“’M afraid that I’ll get all horny ‘n loose all my senses and be all rough with you, ending up hurtin'y and I’ll be too engulfed in pleasure that you wouldn’t be able to stop me ....” She fiddles her fingers vigorously in Harry’s hand and he's cutting her with a tut, “That’s the point silly girl.” He chuckles amused at her and she shakes her head whining up at him with a surly expression. The corners of her eyes pinkish and watery from forcing herself to feel the pleasure Harry’s tongue was devoting her.

“But, Harry ‘m not some insatiable monster!!” His heart thuds at the concerned worrisome look on her angelic features and he’s cupping her cheeks, he curses out internally to whoever told her this and his lip grouches up, “You’re not some insatiable monster. Who the fuck fed you this bullshit?” He scolds her and it makes her fleet her gaze away from him.

“You’re not —-... what the fuck, Y/N. Tell me their name so I could break their jaw.” He gasps in shock and he spits in venom. Knuckling at her chin to prop it high infront of him and doesn’t break the cogent eye contact -– his eyes full of hatred and loath for the person.

That damn person who made his Bambi, so insecure and conscious and self-degrading about herself.

“The guy –,” She stutters. He gives her an encouraging hum and she plays with his rings, she knows that he’ll never make fun of her about it and mighty be understanding.

He has always been.

But sometimes he laughs at the worst moments. Not his fault. She has adopted that habit too from living with him.

Right now though. He looks very serious and furious, it creeps heat up her throat.

“The guy I lost my virginity to. He said – he ... umm said that I hurt him when I flipped him underneath me and was being selfish asking him to you know ...?” She mumbles, uncertain if she’s putting it out right and Harry runs his fingers through his curls gripping at the roots and groans in annoyance, properly vexed.

“Firstly muffy. Virginity isn’t a thing. It’s a term made by egoistic men like that prick of a guy, secondly did he make you cum?” His voice tones down gentle and caring. He lays her down and settles her head on the pillow and she's still fisting his shirt in her hands.

He grimaces when she shakes her head, her eyes owlish and glossy pointing down, “Everything was so dry that I wasn’t able to enjoy it ...” She winces remembering it and Harry cradles her face cooing delicately, “Oh Bambi. It was, ‘cos ye' weren’t aroused enough.” But, she’s now. With Harry ontop of her and being all warm and lovey and handling her as if she’s fine china, she could feel gooey wetness sticked to her thighs.

For first time in her life. She feels relaxed and light headed talking about it.

So, she continues, “ .. and it was bit disgusting, he came all over my tummy ‘cos he didn’t have a condom.” At this he grumps, his nostrils flares and pinches the bridge of his nose to keep him sane, “What a cheap bastard!” She giggles at his outrage and he just gives a fluttery smile to her shaking his curls.

He pets the sheen on her cheek away and gazes her sincerely, “You shouldn’t trust everyone and anyone, pet. ‘S a cruel world out there.” The fact that if he’d have came inside her boils Harry’s blood -- she'd have gotten the worst thing happen to her.

He just feels so protective of her. If he’d be able to keep her safe under his shield to scare away bastards like that guy he gladly will.

“Now, hear me Bambi eyed. We never have unprotected sex with strangers and never let ‘em make y’feel bad fo' wantin’ t’be pleasured .. if two people consent fo' it then both ‘ve to fulfil eachother’s desire. Am I clear?” His tone gruff and firm. She suckles her lower lip inside her mouth and nods quickly.

Something about him commanding and lecturing her making a fire fuse in the pit of her tummy and it makes her salivate down a whimper, which sure didn’t go unnoticed by Harry’s side and his lips are quirking into vivacious grin.

He’s retreating back between her legs keeping a cautious gaze on her as if she’s a prey and one move will wither her away, “’N fo’ being rough. I like it rough. Y'could d'all of that with me without being embarrassed.” His smirk dripping with wickedness and Y/N’s head jerks back at the thought of him seeing forward to do more of this with her.

His palm lays sturdy and pressed to her belly, his puckering lips against the inside of her thigh parts around a silent groan when he feels her belly quiver.

He embeds slobbery kisses to where she’s clenched impatiently for him and he pushes his fingers against her clit and slides them up and down between her puffy folds, love creating soppy filthy noises and gives a kitten lap to her then attaches his lip to her smudgy hole murmuring against her breathily to make her feel the electricity till her core.

“Will love havin' ye'tiny fingers pullin' at me hair with a swimy brain. Buckin'y hips into my mouth begging me to ruin yer cunt with my tongue and ‘ave me dancin' on y'palm, extractin’ out glutinous grunty moans within me chest -- it’ll not be just moans, no! —- a viscous toe curlin' sound that’d rumble savagely in my throat a warning fo’ you to keep these gorgeous thighs open fo' me to eat you out as I wish and my large hands will belt ‘round y'waist digging my nails into your dimples when you'll scratch my back ‘n it’ll leave angry marks behind — a reminder fo’ you how much I fuckin' loved you being horny as the deepest burnin' of hells.” She’s panting and sobbing for a cusp of breath manoeuvring her fingers in the tufts of his silky mess of curls and tugs at it and shoves her cunt, grinding against his chin. The softness of his cheeks glittering her bones and she’s falling wider apart from him, and he grins.

Noses at her throbbing clit and sucks it in her mouth and massages her pussy with her own lubrication and how much he picks it on his tongue she’s ready to give him more and he’s moaning with fierce ruby lips wrapping around her fluttering pussy folds, moving his mouth every where and it elicits a choppy whine from her.

“Fuck. Look at'y ... s'innocent but such a dirty little girl fo' me.” He dips his fingers merely into her and swipes up a cardinal push against her spongey wall and treats it back.

It’s too much for, Y/N. Everything. His wanton words better than those audios, his warm tongue on her and the strength of his arms holding her down, his flushed out cheeks and the teasing and teetering he's doing to give her an orgasm that sprays cosmic stars into her fogginess and she doesn’t even know that cloy moans of, “yes.yes.yes.” are dripping from her and he’s boring his face back into her when he latches away from her sweet pussy with the help of his elbow.

“I want you to say it.” There’s pause in the string of her racing heart and her brows hitches in confusion, though he doesn’t give her enough time and moves her pussylips apart letting his nails graze at them gently.

She’s squealing in surprise and jolting up with exhilarating sensation when he spits at her and watches it trickle down her bum, thick and honeyed with lust-fond eyes.

She’s erupting into startled moans when he grunts spitting again and makes her little cunt the messiest thing, “Say it. Say that yer dirty little —-,” She cuts him with a sharp and whiny yawp and plunges her nails into his shoulder making him hiss through his teeth.

“I’m a dirty little girl, f'you. Just you. Just you. Just you ....” Her voice tones down into coy whispers stuffed to the pillow as her body anchors stintingly from her bed and Harry’s hand slides from her torso down her ass and gropes at it keeping her coupled to his mouth as she coats his chin and his lips and his cheeks with her cum and his own spit and he’s murmuring grittily, “Yeah moppet. Mhmp. Come in me mouth. Fill it all, such a good girl.” He nips and tucks at her making her satiate through her high and places a kiss to her clit for the last time when she thrashes from sensitiveness before moving away.

“Sensitive lil thing ye'r.” He murmurs rubbing her thighs to coax her down and feels goosebumps prick on her skin, glances up and finds her a beautiful colour of pink and peach and her hair nested as a halo on the pillow.

She’s just so beautiful in many ways, it aches his heart.

He’s flopping to her side and poking her cheek earning a tick of ravenous smile and he watches as her irises moves under her closed lids.

“That was ... hmm.” She hums sluggishly knuckling at her eyes and Harry muses out a chuckle, before she could come up with a dentist joke he's cracking it himself sensing her gears working in that tiny head of hers, “Very filling?” That makes her hide her face into his neck and giggle.

“Yeah. Could say that.” She rests her chin on his shoulder and poses her brows questioningly when his stuffy pocket pokes at her thigh, “What’s that?” He didn’t realise he was too swamped in admiring the specks of her hazelness pouring with sunlight and he’s blinking back to re-start himself.

“Oh! This ..?” He’s taking out it slowly and she’s whining and shaking him to hurry up and he’s giggling at how impatient she could get when curious.

She holds it infront of her and it’s a cute green beanie with a little gucci embroidered at where it gets folded and her smile dejects when Harry speaks, “One of my colleagues gifted me this as a birthday present.” Why didn’t she thought about gifting him this for his birthday? Not that she has money for Gucci but they've been celebrating for three years and not once she didn’t get an idea that he wears beanies alot and mighty would like it?

Anyway, it’s far better than the painting of snowy and a mason jar filled with candy wrappers having her appreciations and dentist jokes written to their backside she gifted him, Y/N pouts thinking how she could’ve get him something useful.

Harry doesn’t care about materialistic things. He says that you could buy them anytime and that money is just the murk of your palm, it goes away in one wash -- the little shows of affection always are by your side in hard times.

“Hey Muffy...” He's yawning nudging her side noticing how she zones out and away from him, “D'ya have some chamomile tea?” Her chin slips from her shoulder at the sudden rasp.

“What? Why?” She gazes him. His body slumpy and tired over her and his mouth ajar cutely, she scratches his scalp lightly and swears that he let out the softest purr.

“Was in the operation theatre fo' hours now, just came from there -- emergency case. It was bad.” He emphasizes it getting a lisp a bit and she sits up closer to him.

“What happened to the person? She asks hoping they’re okay and have any hopes for recovery.

He just fiddles away the beanie from her grip and covers her head with it folding and adjusting it over her ears, “Not tellin' ya ...” He murmurs rubbing his nose into her arm and sniffs her saccharine scent. He knows that she doesn’t take the stories from his workplace well and it keeps her awake at nights, then she’s visiting the patient herself and Harry have to drag her out of his hospital every damn time.

She cares too much. Even for strangers. She’s too kind for her own sake and Harry thinks sometimes being selfish should be the latter option.

He squints open his one eye feeling her gaze fixated on him and huffs a lil, his little stubborn bambi, she wouldn’t let it go, “Fine. They were comin' back from a party and were high maybe -- car crashed badly dentin' towards the passenger’s side ‘n totally dislocated her jaw, now y’promise me you aren’t gettin' too worrisome ‘bout her because she’s okay.” Saying this he's cuddling back into her and she smiles a bit petting his back.

“Whatever, you say Dr. Styles.” He didn’t even need a tranquilizing tea anymore. Her warmth and squishiness was more than enough to lull him into a peaceful slumber.

..

It’s an otiose Saturday morning. Harry and Y/N just gobbled down oatmeal she made (topped with kiwis, mangoes and strawberries Harry brought from market and threw the bag in her lap) it had too much of coconut and sugar layer than necessary, according to Harry.

While she cleaned the countertops Harry fed and kissed the crowns of each one of their cat, yet again they were left with nothing to do —- that's how Y/N ended up straddling his waist, his jaw fit in her palm and his eyes half-open funnily as she applies a liner at his lid with her pink tongue poked out in concentration.

“Stop movin’,” She snits out in a huff and the skirts of his lips alleviates up into a cheeky evil grin, his hands pawing at her hips and his intentionally dirty gaze flitters down where her nipples are perking from the flimsy shirt and almost presses to his throat, “How'm supposed to when y’tits are ready to lactate me mouth?” Blush creeps up at her cheeks at his overweening and she wanted to give out an “Oh.” Instead grips his baby curls and steadies him, squishing his cheek in doing so as if he’s her toy.

“You better shut up, or ‘m gonna shove my feet up that smug mouth of yours.” She grumps to her own self when her fingers begins to twitch feeling her ear fill with hotness, “And what makes y’think ‘m not into that?” He rockets his brows priggishly with a grin that just screams he’s about to have a upper hand in this banter of their.

“Harry you disgraceful, man!” She whines trying to pull his face upright – he’s doing it on purpose trying to push her buttons and his eyes widens in feign hurt, “’M a very holy man!” His one eye adorned with charcoal coloured liner making him look adorable.

He’s far from any of that. They both know it. He’s a nerd slut if Y/N could put into words correctly.

“Yeah. Holy piece of a shit.” She grumbles pressing her bent knee into his side and quips a happy “Tada!!” grabbing the little from beside him and almost shoves it in his face demanding him to look at himself.

Harry brings his lips together and whistles looking at himself, “My murals should be painted everywhere in the city,” Y/N rolls her eyes. Nibbling down a scoff at his narcissism desperate to jump out and points at herself with a shrug of shoulders -- silently trying to telepath with him.

“What?” He murmurs nonchalantly angling his face to have a better look at him.

“Where’s the praise for artist?”

“Why need't when y'know ‘m an art myself.” His rims shine shamelessly and he nips the flesh of his cheek to stifle down a bashful cackle at her retort.

“You’re being too bold for a person who combusts in his pants just by getting his back scratched.” She arches her brow pruriently at him and he shakes his head, brushing the belly of his nose with his knuckle and when he gazes back at her -- she knows that she’s fucked fucked.

“Says who. The dirty little girl who's sitting on her bestfriend’s cock in her panties and shirt that’s doin’ nothin' but makin'y nipples button out shamelessly.” He tuts carnally, sinking into the plush cushions and man-spreads himself so wide Y/N could feel him pressing between her folds. His smirk rottenly sinful and evil and Y/N's palm automatically jams against his torso with a weepy mewl forehead falling against his clavicles.

She wanted to argue that he’s clad in boxers too but all of her sanity went out of the window when he teasingly grinded their crotches together.

“Y'want t'be treated like a bunny, who loves to hop on dick and fucked till you’re just a soft mush -- don't ya?” His hoarse drawl makes her bob her head eagerly making him chuckle and she’s tightening her thick thighs around his waist, hiding her face into the dive of his nice warm smelling neck and keeps her lips sponged to his skin making him grip on her hips with brutal force.

She’s just so sweet to Harry. A hot pink puddle at his mere touch and all clingy to him, shrinking into him with shyness and all of this just stirs his cock angrily sensitive.

He’s always getting a stiffy thinking about her and her honeyed taste he got to lap on and he's always smelling one of his pillows that has her fragrance loaded on it, while cupping his balls and stroking his cock lazily and hard, with other.

Though his assertive words wavers into a whimperish groan when Y/N takes her face out and gazes him with doe-warm eyes, “I w'na make you feel good.” Harry throbs under her and fattens against his own belly and feels her soaking against his boxers.

“Y'do? ‘s okay —.” His chest heaves with ragged breathes from anticipation and yearn and he knows that taking care of himself would be a torture if she’d tell him a, “no.” But then he isn’t that of a prick and is awfully happy to get what he’s getting, their infinite proximity.

His head teeters back and his pelvis buckles up when she clutched the hem of his sweatshirt and uttered a poutsih, “please..” She’s nourishing a breath and gazing up at him with glossy chocolate eyes blabbering while swivelling herself slowly ontop of him, “You’re looking s' pretty and cato eyes -—.. and you’re stuffed against me s'good. I want –- I want to make y'feel amazing.” Harry’s choking a growlish moan and the urge to just throw her on couch and snug his large cock deep within her.

Her brows pinches together and she has him grabbed from shoulders while she looks between them, listening to his purry hisses and lewd moans, it makes her redden her lip –- she could see his bulbous sherbet coloured tip coated in his own arousal wrestling out of his boxers as the fabric bunches and loosens down with each stroke of her cunt against him.

“Y'want to make me feel, amazin'? Fuck. You’re devastatin' me love -- yeah, mhmph hump me prick moppet.” Her eyelids lust filled and she moans against his chin as he breathes out a euphoric smile and Y/N gains a new confidence pushing herself down on his cock harder and firmer and faster.

The fabric of his boxers tickling his wet slit and he’s smushing his cheek into her soft chest, hugging and murmuring nonsense against her when Y/N sneaks her hand down and fills her hands with his heavy cum loaded balls and Harry doesn’t know how she was able to press him under the pad of her pinky in a span of minute.

Because he’s begging all for her mercy.

He howls a whine when she sucks his earlobe wetly and grazes it to speak in the sweetest yet licentious seductiveness and Harry’s almost naked under her, “Jeez. Hmm. Yes, just like that –- Bambi. My Bambi. Makes me feel — oh fuck!” His knuckles white from where he's groping the cheek of her ass and guiding her where her mound nudges him more good and drafts him straight to heaven.

“Tell me, huh. Who’s the dirty one now?” She smirks squeezing his balls yanking the sweaty ringlets on the base of his neck and they’ve their bodies on eachother, their hands on eachother and Y/N had an audacity to compete.

He’s trashing his spine into a curve and pulling her back down on his dick. She squeals when his cock grazes her pantie line and slips up and down against her cushiony thigh slobbering it with his pre-come.

“Me, me! Fuck .. pet, ‘s me ...” His hand tightens around her ribs and his hand tightens around her ribs and he’s dragging her back and forth -- socked toes curling and teeth gnawing at the pudding of her cheek. His thighs quaking and his strong forearms brings her closer to his chest, as the pressure coils in his stomach and the gentle caress and guttural bite on the slop of his collarbone was enough to burst spurts of cum in his boxers and it quenches onto his tummy and to the inside of her thighs making a sloppy mess.

“Shit.” He mutters through a chuckle. His chin butted atop her head and she giggles moving away.

Her shirt ridden up, her panties bunched up into her ass-cheeks and Harry admires her with a celestial flush on his skin and she circles her fingers together.

She just rode his prick dry and looks like she did the most innocent thing in the world.

“’M g'na go clean myself.” Harry smiles at her squealing pitch and then realization dawns upon him, she’s talking about his jizz on her tickling her skin getting flustered and knackered feeling it. Though, it’s not only his jizz but her panties are drenched into her own salvation making it see through and her wet pussy on display.

He just gulps and nod, like an atta puppy.

..

Lavish green leaves rustles together, the soil of green-belt moist and watered recently, early morning sky swirls of blues and it’s beautiful it really is the weather isn’t too sunny – the silence in his car is comforting too and the rum of his breath makes her feel nostalgic.

But, she wanted to sleep her arse off on Sunday and do nothing and be proud of being idle whole day. Harry had different plans though –- he was jumping on her bed making her wobble on it in her sleepy state and dragged her to washroom how much she whined and fought with him.

“Oh. C’mon now, muffin .. it’ll be fun, Ni would be there too.” He tries to reason her and she just brings her knees up into her and closes her eyes, muttering in monotone.

“Nothing’s fun about golfing, Harry.” It’s little get together of his colleagues and the doctors from his hospital and Harry thought he'd die from boredom if he wouldn’t bring her with him, he isn’t one bit of interested into old men talking about how their third wife drools over them – he isn’t very fond of lies.

“Not even me? How could y’say no to me?” He gasps dramatically. Scrunched his nose and twitches his lips in fake offend.

She opens her eyes for a moment and stares at him, “Just like that,” Pinches his elbow and shrugs nonchalantly.

“Harry, no.”

“Yeah, Whatever.” He rolls his lips between his fingers and takes a turn and when they reach he's putting sunglasses on the bridge of her nose, unfolding her arms that are wrapped around herself and nudges her to be less grumpy.

“’Ve a reputation yeah .. be less frumpy.” She pokes her tongue out and Harry lurches his hand forward scaring her that he'd grab it.

“Those dilfs already kisses the tips of my shoes.” She hops out of the car and clasps her hands atop of her head stretches out and yawns out loudly.

Harry’s head perks up alarmingly at that from the boot of his car and he swings the golfing kit on his shoulder and rolls his eyes from under his sunnies, pushing her forward with a small hand on her back.

“Yeah, more like grandpas.” The thought just makes him feel icky and utterly gross – imagining those old doctors —- no he completely wants to brain wash himself.

“Bet, their willies would need heavy assistance —-,” He’s grinning abrasively down at her and she winced swatting his chest, “Harry!” She’s wiggling out of his hold and striding towards where Niall is waving them in utter excitement.

Harry pouts and stomps behind her, calling out for her to slow down and scowls when a grin makes a way at her face as Niall hugs her.

Niall showed her his little nips and tricks. While Harry looked at them with needy eyes from far stuck between the bunch of boring doctors and dentists and his lips visibly downturns when Niall trips and Y/N’s falling on her bum, clutching onto her side with a belly aching laugh.

Ni helps her stand back and it was when a women in pink sports short and Nike tee trudged towards them and Harry at the same moment and Y/N just stares with confusion as they hug and she’s smiling up at him brightly.

“Sorry. I lost the time check.” Harry’s parting away with a shrug, “Not tha' somethin’ special occurred.” and Y/N’s doe-curious eyes remains fixed on them and he's introducing the unknown women to her and Niall’s poking her side to revive her back to mighty world.

“Muffy? She’s one of my colleagues, Holly.” Y/N startled a bit then gives out a nervous smile forwarding her hand to shake it with her and Holly’s pony flails comically from the action.

Soon, she’s turning her attention back towards Harry and smiling up at him questioningly, “Did you rest well after leaving the hospital on Friday?” Y/N just fumbles with Harry’s rings on her knuckles -- not sure if she should go back to golfing with Niall or stay to take part in little conversation because Niall is growing very antsy.

“Yeah. I did, actually .... very well if y'ask so,” Harry's shimmering gaze lurks back on Y/N and she internally groans when he smirks remembering the event and she wants to glare him from the side of her eye.

She’s stepping aside quickly when Holly passes by them and towards the table full of breakfast and beverages.

She pours two cups of coffee and adds two teaspoon of sugar, handing one to Harry and Y/N wants to retort that he doesn’t like coffee and hell not that amount of sugar.

“And Y/N what would y'like coffee, tea?” Holly asks her and Y/N just chuckles gingerly when Harry looks ike he's about to gag when he takes the first sip.

“I don’t drink coffee.” Holly looks like she just saw the end of the world and Y/N holds back from rolling her eyes at her, she's giving her an aura that she doesn’t like Y/N even a bit.

“No? Why?”

“Guess I never needed that much caffeine, my job doesn’t require staying up late and all that ...” Holly sips on her coffee and leans against a chair raising a her brow at her and then asks.

Her style being uptight and arrogant just not sitting right with, Y/N.

“What is your profession?” This ferals Y/N into her thinking pot, is that even a profession? She doesn’t really know and she’s in her own headspace when Harry’s soft eyes worms back to his bambi and his eyes glints with ever proud and his smile toothy and bunny as he puts the cup aside speaking with a hint of fond.

“She’s an artist. A very talented one.” Holly arches her brow at him and hums then looks back at her -- as if she didn’t heard him right.

“So, you make art for living?”

“I do it beacuse I like doing it, just like you.” Y/N chips up and Harry just thinks his admiration grows terribly more every day for her -- because of the passion about anything she holds in that big heart of hers, the way her cheeks rubies up and brows sets into concentration.

That shuts Holly and her train of personal irritating questions.

“Hey! We aren’t here fo' some princess tea party -- can we please, go back to golfing!?” Niall finally bursts like a balloon from annoyance and Y/N's giggling and hooking her arm into his elbow, “You’re sucha cry baby.” She coos and tries to walk him back to pitch but then her gait stutters when Holly asks Harry in an expectant tone.

“Did you like my present?” Why does it layers her chest with mucky awful feeling, her stomach itself tottering and she just huffs thinking how that present sits in her drawer and she’s the one that wears it instead of Harry.

“Oh, I liked it, thank you.” Fucking liar. Y/N just shakes her head and chuckles ironically because he forgot about it the moment he gave it to her.

Y/N’s toes itches with an impulse to expose Harry infront of her.

Where’s that feisty Harry ready to bite anyone expect her and his little group of friends? What did this job do to him? Oh my goodness! Why Y/N is hating all of this so much, why why why!?

Y/N's completely being an over dramatic (she knows that) but she couldn’t help but be bitter about this Holly “oh I could woo Harry just by giving him some beanies from an overly expensive brand.” Gahk! Not in a millennia.

“’Kay, pet now you make yer goal.” Niall shouts squinting to get rid of sunlight in his eyes and Y/N was so engulfed in thinking of how the slight interest and undivided attention of Harry towards Holly makes her feel woozy and something that’s indescribable, until now. That’s when someone came behind her bended figure she – almost making her squeal but he’s shushing her sweetly -- the corner of his lips pressing to the side of her hairline and he takes in her fresh lilies scent.

Two soft beautiful boned structure hands comes raking from her shoulders down her wrists, jostling her almost as he wraps his hands around her sweaty ones and brings the golf club back in air.

“Let's fill those holes together,” His smooth rasp prickles the hair on her body in a most stinging way and she's subsiding down a blush, frowning and unfrowning to concentrate back on playing -- but it’s a fucking torture when his bulging member prominent from his tight little shorts lines up against her bum teasingly.

He was very aware of the big problem that stood between them and she’s turning with his arms still on either side of her -- doing a little knocking on his chest to gain his attention.

“You’ve —-... umm ..” She stammers. Cheeks peachy and her smile nervous. Harry hums in dither gazing down at her softly and that flusters her to living heavens.

Then his eyes follows where she’s staring in curiosity and gentleness and as if she’s ready to take him in her mouth right then and there.

He’s got a stiffy and that in public!

“Oh shit. Sorry, I wasn’t awa —-,” He's creating a little distance between them but she’s quick to grab the hem of his shirt and pulling him closer back to her, “No. No. ‘s okay. I could ‐—.. I could help you ....,” She mutters in a tizz with a hitchy breath and Harry’s dimples indents, cushy smile dancing on his lips and his pinky’s swiping the loose tresses behind her ear.

“If you want to...” She doesn’t know what’s making her more anxious the fact he'll brush her off or that he'll accept her help, but this latter option fills her insides with gales of mushiness and it makes her unsettle her footing.

“I’d love that.” He grins and she’s smiling up at him and Harry screams internally like a teenager at how she manages to be so tender and silken like a gorgeous doll in the most filthiest situations.

He keeps her infront of him to hide the potential tent in his shorts that appeared from no-where, he's being sly and clearly knows that where it came from --- from gawking her peach ass till it wasn’t printed in his mind and he didn’t even know when he was drooling at the thought of squishing her asscheeks and rolling his thumb against her puckering hole and imagining her cute lil whines for him to bore down his thumb into her till she feels his lion ring against her flesh, throwing her hips at him more —- shut up!

Though when the group of men stops them with their evil gazes on his little bambi and they’re smirking up at Harry in mischievousness, “Where you sneakin' Y/N too?” They hollered and Harry had to ball his hand on her hips and bite back from rolling his eyes sharply and rudely,

Because who the fuck they’re to ask? He could take her anywhere and why they do act like they fucking know Y/N from summat eternity, that makes him want to snap at these snobs and warn them not to ever take a step near her.

Ofcourse, he’s very well aware that their intentions towards his sweet bestfriend are evil and filthy -- he wants to punch each one of them at that.

“Just to show ‘er the lake behind,” He's giving them a tight lipped smile and leaving them baffled without giving them more to talk and Y/N giggles at his huffy-ness and pets his knuckles feeling his skin beginning to fume and turn hot against her neck.

Moments later, he's sitting on the bench of empty steam room carmine lips parted and plush are mooched to Y/N's upper belly, his long arms tipsy around her thighs and hair floppy caramel and his palm splays on the side of her waist under her shirt coveting his nails lightly into her pudgy skin – as her soft hand stays dipped into his shorts and she strokes him in gradual pace.

He’s jerking back hitting his head against the vertical mirror that covers the whole wall when she presses her thumb into his palpating tip of cock to coax out his white stickiness and uses it to coat and lube his dick and caress it, “’S’okay c’mere, honey. You’re okay.” She coos cupping the nape of his neck and brings him back to let him bury his face into her pulpy body and kisses his hair, sliding her hand under his jaw to soothe him.

Harry moans uncontrollably and tries to muffle them with choked sobs upon hearing her go all soft on him and he thinks, “honey” Is his new favourite word from now on coming from her mouth and he wants to be called honey from her all the time.

She doesn’t know where the confidence of sweet talking to him came from but the menace for Holly and her being overly sugary with him, just poked her in weird place and she wants to claim where he belongs.

To her.

Always her.

“Bet, your big cock was all achy and weepy for my attention.” She pouts slopping all the way down to his chubby shaft and tightens her grip jerking him speedily. Harry bobs his head vigorously and eagerly hugging her ever close and babbles wetly so she scratches his scalp and almost raises her hips into him when his happy and satisfied mewls fuses into her ears.

“Been —-.. been, fuck!” He gasps bolting shut his eyes when she widened her slick palm down and massaged his heavy taut balls – shaking them playfully with a giggle bitten down her throat, “Been thinkin' ‘bout you whole lot – yer such a doll.” He sighs and she sponges a peck to the side of his forehead.

“Yeah?” Her eyes glints with adore and meekness for him and when he nods with euphoric slipped eyes and rosy cheeks snuggling himself into her she mighty cried a lil.

“G’na cum for me? In my hand? Been treating you so good, honey. Love your cock –- always oozy and slick for me and your moans —- can y'moan fo' me? Show them on whose pinky you’re wrapped on.” She’s breathless but the tenderness and fondness in her voice never fades and Harry’s almost tomato grinding his hips on the bench fucking himself into her palm and brags his teeth together hissing through it.

“G'na cum. G’na cum fo'y and —- oh!” Guttural heavy loud moans are eliciting down his tongue and he’s groaning and whimpering and thrashing under Y/N shooting his gloopy spunk inside her palm and she doesn’t stop, coating his whole eternity with his own cum and digs out some more droplets from his tummy to soak into the pride that she’s the reason he’s this fucked up and ravenous and shaking under her.

She’s throwing her legs on either side of his thighs next and he’s gazing at her intensely from under his thick lashes with lovingness all slumped against the mirror and she’s ducking down to stitch her nose up against his nose and giving him an eskimo kiss and Harry’s lips accommodating back for a nice breather are tingling to lean in and place them on hers in a dotting heart swarming kiss but a knock's interrupting them and she’s quipping back a squeal and jumping on her toes.

Guess she'd just clean her fingers by licking them since there’s no water.

..

Y/N was painting one of her commission works and for her coming exhibition when Truggers came meowing at her and scraping onto floor, “What d'you want bub?” She asks wiping her fingers on the rag and puts the brush into water cup.

She follows Truggers to their bassinet and almost slips straining her ankle from rushing panicked towards Tum who's jerking in his sleeping position.

She hawks in shock, fear and trembling horror. Her ears deafening. She’s shouting at him and shaking him with tears in her eyes, “Tums? Tummies? Baby!! Wake up!” She cries but the cat doesn’t respond.

“No. No. No!!” She shakes her head sobbing loudly bringing her knees up to her chest and holds her head in her hand not knowing what to do, she calls Rori and she doesn’t even know how much time passed and Rori's hugging her and comforting her taking other kittens to room so they don’t see Tums.

“Call Harry! Call him, please, please, please .... Rori ....” She sobs feeble and painful into Rori's neck and she shushes Y/N. She really tries to but she knows that only Harry could manage to calm her down and she rings him many many times but he doesn’t pick up.

“Harry! I’ve been calling you for ages for fuck’s sake where are you?” So, when he's excusing himself telling that he was having lunch and Holly’s voice is booming through Rori's phone Y/N’s heart drops and shatters into gazillion pieces.

She may not be in right mind, but she’s seriously hurt because Harry never in million years ignore her calls.

Guess having lunch was far important than her or her calls.

It just makes her cry more.

“Wait. What’s happening?” Goosebumps layers on his skin when he hears Y/N crying and he walks away without telling Holly he’s heading out.

“Harry ... Tums, he died in his sleep.” Harry halts in his tracks. Staring at the parking sign blankly and his eyes fills with tears and his breath shudders as he tries to speak, “’M coming.”

..

Rori left and took Tums with her after tucking Y/N in bed and making sure she’s okay.

Her ears perks up when the door clicks softly accompanied by low sniffles and it pools more moisture in her eyes and the tears trick down her chin and onto pillow — because hearing him cry is just so agonising.

“Muffy ...” The mattress dips behind her and he’s scooching close to her planting his cheek against her shoulder.

His warmth melts her but she recoups wiping her eyes dry and wavers in a thorny voice, “Go away.” She distances herself from him and turns stiff.

“Moppet, please ...” He protests and she hampers herself from snapping at him.

“Go away, Harry. Leave!!” She's muffling her cries into pillow and when she faces him – Harry's chin wobbles because his muffy looks terrible and awfully sad and it’s breaking him weakly and perfectly.

“Why don’t y'go back to whatever you were doing with Holly!” She gasps moistly for a breather and Harry stands up, nose red and runny and eyes bloodshot.

“Jus’ say yer’ jealous.” He wants to be fierce with her about what she said but his voice barely comes out without being shaky and his heart is full of sorrow.

“And if I say I’m, then what?” She’s pathetically hiccupping (continuously) so much her neck hurts and she has never sound so uncertain and pleading and expectant to know if he might love her?

That if there’s something more between them than just providing eachother pleasure and being eachother’s missing half when they were lonely.

More, than just two bestfriends being eachother’s back of the hand.

He doesn’t respond and she shouts for him to stop and answer her and throws a cushion towards him, but he just leaves her to it.

Harry’s just worried she isn’t ready to take either of his confessions well.

..

Snowy sits in her lap. Max and Luna (Rori's girlfriend) are wrestling onto the mattress they took from Harry's bed and laid on the floor, (which he'd grump about when he'll be too pissy to move it back in the late night).

He’s been cranky and acting proper ratty with anyone and everyone he comes to interact with since that day.

He felt like his world turned upside down because now everything’s just against him, his milk gets soggy every morning and all of his socks and hoodies are at his little thief's home and snowy takes revenge from him for hurting Y/N by pissing on his shoes everytime he’s about to leave.

Cherry on creamy top!

He just couldn’t stop thinking about his bambi and might have chewed his fourty years old assistant ears with his rambling of Y/N and his endearment for her and unfortunately he just ficked up bad.

“’M so hungry. If Ni will cheat another round on me, I’ll be munching on his toes!!” Y/N exclaims huffing out and kicking Niall in shin as they were playing Mario cart and he’s been winning for an hour just by his cheating tricks.

They all got together after many days at Harry’s flat while he was at the duty and he promised them that he’d bring pizzas with him and now it’s almost 12 and they’re waiting and waiting in anticipation for him to arrive.

When the door knob jiggles everyone’s jumping up and scrambling closer to the door because they all are that hungry and Harry’s hands are piled with pizza boxes, soon their hungry excited expressions are dulling into annoyance and viscid displeasure when Holly peeks from behind Harry.

Still all of them manage to plant fake smiles and everyone’s greeting her.

“What took you guys s'long?” Y/N speaks lowly through a forced smile the one that doesn’t reaches her eyes and doesn’t make them appear as they are pools of earthly soil, “Oh .. we just stopped to buy some muffins -- Harry told me how much you like them, Bambi.” Oh fuck. There goes the pressure cooker blasting and rattling through each and every wall of this room and the tension thickens around and Luna's coughing and everyone is just treading back to their spots awkwardly and with disappointed sorry sighs for Holly because if before Y/N didn’t hold a grudge against Holly now she’d.

Because, for fuck’s sake!!! Nobody, calls her that except Harry!

It was their own intimate little sweet love name that Harry calls her and her only.

Not even their friends.

Not even Niall.

Just him.

Him.

Him.

And.

Him.

Now, she just came from out of the fucking blue and popped their bubble of intimacy and Y/N feels like one of those anime characters where they've a frown hanging on their head larger than their size and there’s fire enveloping them before she bursts out in rage and scream at Holly and Harry too.

She sighs. She’s far better than creating a scene and gladly accepts the box of muffins from Holly whose smile is overly sugar coated and this is what Harry says when he tells her he doesn’t like sugar in much amount – it’s irksome, Y/N’s talking about humans specifically.

“’s not even my favourites.” She mumbles staring at the vanilla strawberry muffins and Holly just shrugs and Harry gets tensed keeping his voice hushed while Rori and Him unboxes the pizzas in the kitchen, “Just thought a change would be good.” Y/N’s throat clogs up just at that. She finds it hard to even gulp down the piercing emotions piling up there.

Y/N just hates changes.

Holly wants to change everything about Harry and his surroundings, even this dinky flat he lives in —- he’s a dentist why’d he live here?

Holly tries not to grimace.

“You know Y/N hates changes, Harry I know that you guys might not be serious but we all are well aware that you too —-- fuck, Harry! Why are you fucking it up!” Rori whisper yells at him as they throw the empty boxes frantically and hurriedly to go back to living room and handle the situation before it gets out of hand.

“Ontop of that. Why did ya bring, Holly with you!? She isn’t ... well she isn’t much par to any of our likings.” Harry just runs his hands through his curls and he knows that it’s afflicting Y/N, his baby muffy who wouldn’t even see him in eye since that incident and he really wishes that all of this ends soon.

“What d'I do!? she’s my staff head and I’ve to play nice to her.” He squeaks out in a bit panic and he’s exhausted and tired and really running out of his Bambi's cuddles but she wouldn’t even let him set foot in her flat.

Even though how much he argued that, “Remember y’said this’s our one big home? Well I could be in me home whenever I want.”

Though when they're out with bright smiles and announcing that food is here, acting as if him and Rori didn’t just had an ASMR argument in kitchen.

Harry’s heart. The each chamber of his heart got cut up into pieces and fell somewhere in his stomach when he hands the plate to Y/N and she takes it without meeting his eyes, starving him off her sweet butterflies wooshing smile and tries to avoid from getting any physical contact between their fingertips and cuddles back into Ni's side as if she’s utterly cold.

She’s jealous and hurt and furious that Harry has mighty revealed their intimate nitty gritty details to Holly.

All of that aside. She’s very sad and lost and feels lonely all over again because she has no-idea that what are they, where they stand out of their bestfriends bubble and if whatever happened between them was fever dream?

“What happened, pet? Not hungry? Y'were ‘bout to munch us alive seconds ago.” Niall chuckles gingerly and nudges her as she just hovered her pizza on her plate and never brought it to her mouth.

Harry wipes his hand on his jeans listening that and Holly’s side eyeing him gauging for his reaction and her face hitches up into displeasure when he stands up and strides towards Y/N in two long steps.

“D'ya want another flavour? Is it cold? We could order somethin' else if you want to ....” His voice caring and antsy and he’s contemplating whether to sit beside her and coax her to eat but she’s chewing onto it and shrugging, speaking with a mouth full and yet again never sparing him a single glance.

“No, ‘m good.”

Holly judges Y/N’s battiness and locks up the urge to roll her eyes at this girl who Harry’s so whipped for -- she could ramp him under her feet (which Y/N would never – Holly’s just a mean ass who likes to think negatively about everyone) and he'd still beg her to do it all over again.

Holly just loves to be a victim in situations where she doesn’t even have a role, but still tries to fit in as a victim.

The truth is. She wants Harry bad. And, it’s all written clear on her face.

Their hang out didn’t take the route they planned for it to be and Y/N was heading out early conscious of Harry’s gaze on her all the time when Rori yelled enthusiastically with a bright proud grin, “Everyone's invited to Y/N's painting exhibition on Sunday, aren’t we Y/N!?”

Harry’s head snaps towards each of his friends like a lost puppy and when all of them are smiling and nodding their heads in agreement his eyes just brawls out and he feels like crying and throwing a tantrum because she didn’t tell him about it! and even if not, he didn’t got a chance to be the first one to tell her how proud he’s of her.

Rori winces when Harry rushes behind Y/N and the door's shutting behind leaving them in awkward silence again.

“You didn’t care t’tell me? ‘s such a big mo' fo'y.” He scowls. Folding his arms infront of his chest and Y/N grumbles stomping her feet onto floor.

“You were too busy —-..”

He knows what’s about to come next. The taunt and fight and something heartbreaking that’d slip from their tongues and hurt them brutally and part them away, “Baby.” He’s sighing rubbing the knot on his forehead and him calling her baby was enough to mush her into a candy floss.

“Yell at me. Punch me. Brake me nose. D'ye thing but pleaseee don’t gimme a silent treatment ...,” His eyes glossy and Y/N kinda feels remorseful and she might not give into him that easily but she isn’t to be blamed because she’s just so putty in his embrace and he could win her heart all over again as many times he wishes.

Though when she’s speaking to him after long period of four days and nine hours and cursing him out he’s still very thankful and gleeful grinning and scooping her up in his arms, “You’re a downright asshole you know that? One of our baby cat died and you were too busy havin' lunch with that, witch.” She isn’t hiding her hatred for Holly anymore and Harry cackles infuriatingly loud and brushes his cheek against her neck.

“’M sorry. Not g'na do tha' evea' again swear on me life.” He mumbles coherently.

“Promise?”

“Promise.” He’s hooking their pinkies together and kissing them to seal the affirmation.

..

Harry loves BDSM. Something he explored upon lurking around a sex club when he was right about to turn eighteen, of which oh so Y/N's savvy about from all those nights where she could be able to hear guys and girls howling like they got fucking murdered even sitting in the farthest cubby of her own home.

She'd not argue to him about that because of her shyness and second the music that she used to blast through speakers while painting, so they were equal.

He was quite peculiarly never interested in having romantic relationships with people -- he was just interested in what’s between their legs and sometimes their mouth.

But with Y/N. With Y/N he wants to make love to her. Lit sweet warm scenting candles that’d sheen their skins with ardour and have vases filled with flowers and cook her a dish she likes – then they share a glass of wine (optional) if they want to remember it all.

He wants to have every nice and warm thing with her, things he never got to experience.

He wants to love.

To love her.

He never really exposed himself to words like amity, adoration and intimacy. Thinks that those words are too big for his heart which’s too compact for someone to build a home in.

He hated certain stuff. On purpose. Like scrabble when his father and his friends made fun of him for liking scrabble and he kicked that shit so hard it tensiled into space — or he thinks so because he never saw it laying on his childhood floor ever after that.

Then again, Y/N came into his life and brought his scrabble back (teased him that she stole it from some kid that lives downfloor) they play whenever they could and ends up fighting everytime because, zzz isn’t a word but Harry claims it is for people who snores like they're gonna choke into their pillow next moment.

He hated interacting with people. Don’t even have an idea how he got these bunch of maniacs as his friends and then Y/N, he just thinks she’s made specially for him only carved from the cream of tenderness, beauty of love and sent upon to him like an Angel.

Harry hates sugar. But, yet again he likes no scratch that -- he loves Y/N so it doesn’t even matter.

At the moment when he’s crowded by gushing and whispering and laughing people. Praising and chatting and loving on his Bambi —- he feels like the word hate never existed in his life because all he could feel his heart is floating in copious amount of love for his Bambi as he stands in the corner letting his eyes admire her in affection.

He takes a sip of white wine from his glass and hisses when plays with his earlobe out of instinct and ends up prodding himself from where he pierced his ear two hours ago.

A smile so tiny but full of elation and lilac-ness twirls on his relaxed face upon reminiscing it – his eyes falling at her trousers and he gives himself an imaginary pat on back.

“You’re gonna repay me by ironing my trousers.” She told him standing between his parted legs and he scooted closer to the edge of counter and grabbed her teeny hands compared to his's and puts them over his thick thighs, “Whateva' y'say ma'am. ‘course now ye’re ‘bout to become a sexy artist with her own gallery ‘n all tha’.” He smirked and she rolled her eyes dabbing the cotton ball with alcohol and swapped his soft earlobe with it.

“’S not mine.” She murmurs and Harry woven his fingers with her's and tugged her forward. Lips brushing her temple and he shrugged, speaking, there’s nothing for her to be insecure about, if no one's proud of her, he is, he always gonna be, “Does it matter? Those paintings are yours. That room will be filled with your talent – ye're g'na own one soon, mark me words.” His grip tightened when she rubs her hand at his chest to warn him beforehand and he feigned that he’s scared and horrified to make her anxious about it.

“You’re sick in head you know that?” She mumbles grounding down the shakiness of her wrist as she poked the needle through his earlobe and his voice just did a lil loopy-loop as he spoke, “Yeah ... many patients tell me when I don’t give ‘em enough anaesthetic and rip their teeth out.” She blinked up at him with wide eyes and smacked him when he just slumped down against the mirror if nothing happened, his rims floaty and blown out.

Sometimes he jokes too seriously it startles, Y/N.

“You could say an ouch, atleast. Big man.” She giggled taking the needle out and puts a black cross earning after cleaning his brand new piercing, “Ouchhh!” He moaned out dramatically, fingers gliding down his skin under his eyes to reveal pink flesh and blue veins and his eyeballs.

“You’re an ass! Now go iron my trousers D’ya want me to go bottomless?” She chortled out loudly and her laugh boomed through the small washroom when Harry’s hand spanked her bum playfully, “Perhaps tha’ is what I’d never want in any case – even if I’ve to showcase me bum to everyone.”

“Harry?” She’s gazing up at him with deer eyes and tugging at his blazer to gain his attention, “Everyone’s gone?” He looks behind to get the sight of their friends laughing and chatting.

“Yeah.” Harry’s heart tweaks upon hearing her exhausted and sluggishly soft voice. She giggles into his cheek when he slings his arm around her shoulder and runs his nose up and down her head walking towards their equally tipsy friends.

“Everyone lets bunch up to give, Muffy a cuddle.” Harry drawls out. His warm breath tickling her neck and everyone just roars out gathering around them and giving them a big bear hug and Y/N's eyes turns glossier because she’s feel so loved and cared.

Just because of Harry.

When they see off their friends, Y/N isn’t rushing back to her agency’s manager to ask how much paintings she sold instead she’s snuggling into Harry’s embrace and let’s him escort them out and into the cool wind.

“You really deserve chocolate muffins, don’t ya, pet?” His chin doubles as he tries to take a look at her satisfied and relaxed face as they trod on the side of road like two penguins providing heat to eachother.

They’ve drunk quite a nice amount of bevvies. Enough that mighty would make them forget the events that are happening now and that’s nice because they could be embarrassing and cringey with having to think about it later.

“No.” Harry grabs her hand that was about to push the door of the lil bakery and she’a huffing up at him and swatting his hand away with a loud thwack, “’M an independent woman, H.” He just slides her hand away -- retorting with a smile, “And’m a gentleman.”

She squints up at him with scrunched up pouty lips and he’s mimicking her squinting her square in the eye. The clock ticks by and they break into a hand wrestling and he’s squeaking out childishly when she pinches his wrist but he’s coming back with scissor fingers demanding her to do a “stone, papers, scissors.” Fight with him.

When he’s wiggling his fingers in fire gesture she’s groaning out and throwing her arms in air, “Fire beats everything!!” He yells duckishly and spins around doing a little dance.

“Fine.” She grumps folding her arms around her torso and he’s ducking down to smooch annoying kisses to her cheeks and all over face.

Harry’s forearms remains roped around her waist and his chin rests ontop of her head, her back stays pressed to his taught warm chest whole time. Every two minutes or so she raises the muffin she’s eating to his lips and he’s taking a chunky bite out of it as they trod their way back home.

“Dun, dun dun dunnnn, do do ...” She giggles when he sways them. His chest rumbling with his deep drunk octave and she cups his cheek.

“What you singing, honey?” He just giggles clinging to her and hides his face into her neck – murmurs then takes himself out of her fragrance and shouts into the air.

“The pink panther’s song!!” She woofs out a laugh at that and he shoves his face into his palm, wheezing out cutely, “I'know y'laughin' ‘cos ‘m sayin' stupidddd things.....,”

The bunny vociferous laughs that emits from their bellies, tumbles them to the ground and the moment they look towards eachother they burst into more giggles.

Y/N scrambles towards where he’s clutching his side and rolls to face her and she crawls up his chest.

It feels good to waste time on the footpath when their hold on eachother’s this soft, warm and meaningful and full of love.

Their cheeks coral, their grins achy and their eyes gleamy ---- hands wandering and comforting eachother, cuddly and sottish and cosy laying right outside their the homes building.

He hugs her closer to him. She snuggles herself into him and worms into a touch starved shrimp and the words are on the tip of his tongue, they’ve been shown in his sentiments with zeal and passion in past and now they’re bouncing in his chest.

Though, he gulps them back.

He really couldn’t.

“I love you,” It flows away in the wind but she catches onto it and flies with it and pushes herself up on his chest blinking in perplexed rapture.

He’s breathing it out again. This time maybe slurry from inebriation but clear and audible, “oh my god baby .... I love you s'fuckin’ much.” He cradles her face in his palms and slides his forehead against hers.

“You love me?” She whispers and he giggles at her bewildered expression and bobs his head, “That’s what ‘m sayin' pet.”

She knows that she loves him too. More than anybody. Every inch of her body soaks into the word love for him.

She pauses for a moment, “How — but, I mean –- What did I do?” He just shrugs, “Dunno.” His dimples foaming deep and pretty.

“I just think we would be a good us,” At that her head perks up kitten like and she moulds her palms around his either side of neck as if he’s her warm chocolate cuppa, she smiles slowly, “We'd be a wonderful us.” Her gaze glitters on his wine moisturized pink lips and she gives him an eskimo kiss.

“Gimme a kiss then,” She demands pursuing her lips adorably but he shakes his puff of curls and pushes her face back gently, “No!” Her brows pinches together at that and she pokes his dimple pouting sadly.

“But, why?”

“I don’t wanna forget our first kiss.” He whines and paws at her hips to bring her back closer to him and she giggles muttering a silly under her breath and tries to tempt him.

“Kiss me, in this way ... we could have our firsts twice!” He gives into her mischievous offer and sighs cradling her face in his hold and murmurs against the corners of her lips, “Only ‘cos you’re cute and wouldn’t stop peskin'.” She’s grinning and pulling him with her hands and smashing her petal lips against his's, their eyelids springs close and he’s squishing her chasing to deepen the kiss and when she's parting away he’s rushing to peck her lips right back to kiss her more.

“I could really cry just by kissin' you, moppet.” He licks the spots of chocolate from her chubby bottom lip and bites it and she’s melting her mouth again over him, kissing him delicately and sweetly having a certain desire and yearn to just star into one soul that balms there tummies.

“W’na kiss you forever.”

Harry never believed into forevers.

Then Y/N wrapped him in her oh so Y/N-ish blanket and now he wants everything with her for, forever.

“Oh. Hush baby. You’re gonna gimme a tooth ache.”

..

Y/N regrets saying that. Because she’s waking up with a headache, blurry vision and churning stomach ontop of every pain the ache in her tooth came to bite her in ass and she’s hissing grabbing her cheek to soothe it down.

“Fuck my —- damn hell ...” She mutters when even the slightest of air in her mouth stings her tooth like a bitch and it dollops tears on the corners of her eyes because she has never gone through a toothache before.

She’s bargaining in Harry’s flat and into his room and he’s properly wafted, face smashed into his elbow as he wheezes through his parted mouth. She’s shaking him gently because the shrivelling drive of pain is growing after every second.

“Harry!” He’s jolting up and snapping his head in every direction instantly his sleepy gaze melts on her (a sight he'd like to have every morning) but she looks rather rotten with a nest on her head and her last night’s clothes crumbled and when she's quipping an, “It hurts Harry ....” With teary eyes, He’s immediately scurrying closer to her and holding her -- confused at first.

“What's hurtin', pet?” He mumbles groggily and she sniffs, “My tooth –- fuck.”

He sighs knuckling at his eyes and kisses her hair throwing the duvet away, “Sit here yeah? ‘m g'na wash me hands real quick and check it, hmm?” He wipes the corner of her eyes and massages her shoulder -- then unfists her hands to make her release some tension and puts them on her knees.

He’s muttering a, “Good girl.” When she nods obediently and watches his back as he trudges inside the washroom.

Coming back with towel in his hands and throws it on the bed while sitting on his knees and adjusts her between them.

“Can y'open a bit mo' f'me, darling?” He asks gently caressing her hip to loosen her up. He already knows what's about to come next and he’s afraid she’s going to be very batty about the procedure, “Aaaaa.” She practically makes the noise trying to part her jaw as far as she could while Harry’s hand remains intact around it inspecting her mouth and she’s anxious that she has a morning breath but the memories of all those time she would practically drool on his cheeks while sleeping makes her feel less awful about it,

He chuckles tapping lightly on her upper moral, “Ow!” She swats his hand away when his action physically makes her whole body go through a pang.

When she looks up at him with ticked brows and huffy pout biting the flesh of her cheek between her two morals to just do something -- anything to get rid of the pain, Harry rubs the frown away with a grimace and brings her for a hug.

“’M s' sorry baby. But, looks like it’ll need a root canal.” If his bambi wouldn’t be in such pain he indeed would have lectured her and thrown away every sweetened thing in her jars out of the window.

“Can y'endure a lil pain and wait till my last appointment? So, I could take care of you afterwards.” He asks her lovingly and his reasoning makes butterflies erupt in Y/N’s belly and she almost almost forgot about her toothache but then it pangs again and she’s hugging him tighter mumbling into him, “Sure.”

He’s making her change her clothes and made her porridge letting it cool down to a temperature where it wouldn’t stick or ache her teeth.

“Y/N ...” He glowers at her sternly when she pushes his hand away holding the painkillers and that intense ferocious glare where his soft jade eyes are turning into something very dark is enough to tell her that if she’s not taking them, there's a big scold coming and after that no leniency for an argument so she takes it without throwing another tantrum.

After making sure she’s fed well and tucked into bed he’s stroking her hair and massaging her head, adjusting her pillow as she likes, kissing the tip of her nose as he murmurs.

“Rori will be pickin’ y’up sharp at 5. Told her to wake you up gently if you’ll be sleepin’.” Her eyes are dreamily glassy and she smiles lightly and she’s already missing his touch on her skin when he stands back up ready to leave.

She really wanted to say it.

Dying to say it, infact.

But all that came from her mouth was, “I’m gonna miss you.” Earning a giggle from him in return.

“G’na miss you terribly too.”

..

Rori drove Y/N to hospital. She’s still in Harry’s clothes that he made her wear in the morning, a black galaxy sweater and wide loose pants a beanie on her head to protect her from a headache and when the receptionist waves her enthusiastically upon her arrival Y/N’s smiling but never opening her mouth knowing the bitch would be back.

“Dr. Styles went for a staff on-call. He'll be here any moment, you could go inside.” Y/N’s nodding and padding inside his room. The pain has lessened a bit and that gives her teensy energy to wander around his room admiring his lil achievements, the medal he won last year and right beside it the pen holder she gave him it that has a “HORRAY TAKE BABY STEPS BABY STEPS HONEY!!” written obnoxiously on it as if she’s screaming it to his face and she giggles at her own silly gift.

She gasps and ends up knocking her hip into his desk as Harry steps in and laughs loudly at her, tutting with a shake of his head, “Jumpy little thing you’re.” Out of habit his hands are falling at her hips and bringing her closer.

“How’re y'muffy?” He asks and she’s bobbing her head up and down dramatically but silently making him chuckle.

“’Kay get yourself comfy on the seat ‘m gonna call my assistant t’give you anesthetic.” He suppresses a smile when she worms her bum up the slippery seat and goes on pushing different buttons moving it up and down.

“How adventurous.” He snickers switching the examination lamp and she rolls her eyes. His assistant’s eyeing them with happy eyes from under her glasses and Harry’s putting his latex gloves aside as she fills the injection and Y/N's muscles tenses up in anticipation, as she tries to blink the fear away and musters up a weak smile.

Knowing she has a fear of needles. Harry rolls the stool he’s sitting on closer to her and interlaces their fingers together, he coos sweetly, “It’ll be just a pinch baby.” Though, Y/N thinks Harry’s a motherfucking liar because it apparently is not just a pinch but feels like a stick shoved up your ass.

When the assistant leaves them to fetch something, Harry’s stroking the fringes of her hair behind with benevolent and caring eyes and smiles down at her sincerely.

“I want y'to relax, moppet. Yeah? Could y'do tha' f'me?” This time when he’s poking or prodding she isn't slapping him away and he’s grateful because that means her gums are numb properly.

He’s caressing her arm to assure her that she has nothing to be afraid about when she startles hearing the buzz of instrument that’s about to rip her poor gum apart.

Surprisingly she was easy. Because, Harry was so gentle with her and when he’s ushering her to spit in the little sink and she’s laying back with cloudy eyes and a grin Harry just knows the anaesthesia is kicking in.

It means that she’s allowed to blabber every dumb thing to him (she doesn’t need anaesthesia for it by the way), without any filter and timidness she’s about to chatter his brain alive.

Her gaze slowly rakes down his torso as if she’s undressing him with her eyes and she’s grinning -- more blood pooling in her mouth, “You look very handsome in scrubs — you know that?” Her words wobblish but full of naughtiness and Harry arranges them himself barking out a delighted laugh when she tugs at hem of his clothes perking her lips.

“I could really kiss you right now....” Her voice clear with desire but a hint of neediness and fondness for him and he’s gazing her down with gleamy endearment and snorts bringing the water cup to her lips, “Sorry Bambi but don’t like kissing a bloody mouth.” She keeps her doe eyes on him and they turn sad while she gurgles the water in her puffed up cheeks and spits it again into sink, about to protest with him but he’s shushing her and laying her back onto the seat.

“Not even me?” She grumps up at him and he’s retorting shaking his head in rejection, he's just trying to rile her up because he himself thinks that a single peck wouldn’t hurt.

“You’ll get an answer to this after we're done with you,” He muses softly when her eyes flicker with glee.

She was all over him as if she’s a small baby who needs his guidance to walk her way out and Harry was waving his staff goodbye with nervous lamblike smile while he tries to balance her against his chest.

The whole ride back he refrained from cooing and making im-a-fool-who-is-shamlessly-in-love noises. How could he not? When she looks this cute and cuddly in his clothes, head lulling every once a while as she sleeps facing him, her hand on his thigh to keep her reminded of his presence.

Harry’s grabbing it and kissing her knuckles. A jolly smile fluttering on his features and he isn’t waking her up as the reach and takes her into his flat – flumps her down on his bed gently and gets rid of her shoes and sweater.

Even skips dinner. Gets out of his work clothes and takes a glance of his sleepy girl standing from the wardrobe and the light clicks off before his gangly body is sliding under the duvets beside her.

Warm, sweet and cosy.

His all day's exhaustion fuses into nothingness when his feet comes caressing her calves and his chest presses to her shoulders and his elbows shelters around her in a protecting loving manner.

His heart hiccups a happy beat when she turns to his side and snuggles into him murmuring in haze, “Love you.”

He trips into utter shock. Staring down at her with baffled eyes but then the memories from past night comes upon crashing down at him like a crystal wave of ocean and floats him to an island where he belongs, always fated to belong.

He confessed his love for her.

She confessed it back.

They both were stupid and forgot it.

Now when she’s telling him that she loves him Harry feels like he’s rather about to pass out or squeal into pillow.

“I love you too, baby.” He's just wrapping her closer to him and lingering a wet kiss to her forehead.

..

Y/N’s moral was grinded, she keeps on swiping her tongue over it even how much Harry scolds her about it (it feels like a small plateau that got separated away because of an earthquake, y/n has made her own imagination about her tooth) and Harry let her chose the colour of filling that will be the mould of her crown, it was just an unnecessary thing to make her feel cheerful about it.

“Is Harry busy? Who’s inside?” She’s asking the old receptionist tapping her nails against the marble counter in eagerness to be done with it and that she’s about to take him to this yummy Thai place.

“Oh. He’s with his girlfriend right now.” Placid sereneness dooms over them and Y/N falls frightfully quite.

The poor assistant doesn’t know what she has uttered.

She just told her what the rumours has told her.

Her jittery smile drops into a blue scowl, her legs weakens at the thought and she nearly trips when Holly appears from inside his room.

It bitters her mouth with taste of anger and outrage.

Holly passes her a tight empathetic smile as if she knew everything from start and Y/N’s striding past her in resentment, her mind smoked with betrayal and vehemence.

“Hi. Moppet.” He rolls his stool over smiling up at her and it tightens her chest so much she chokes onto a breath.

How could he? No. No.

How dare he!?

But, there’s no need to cry over split milk now is it? She has to accept it that they could never be something more than just bestfriends.

“Hi.” She mumbles blocking her tears in the back of her eyes somewhere and Harry frowns, asking politely as she sits, “Feelin' alright?” She just nods and it takes Harry off-guard.

Where is his bubbly Muffy?

“Are you hurtin' somewhere?” He asks again pushing her upper lip to get a better look of her tooth. When she denies he lets it slide.

Though, when the assistant injects her and she’s groping Harry’s thigh because in grief everything hurts more than usual and her heart is dripping with sorrow and loneliness and grief she’s on verge of breaking into pieces right on this seat.

Harry’s brows clinches together in worry but she’s inhaling a puff of breath and giving him an etiolated smile to finish this as soon as possible and leave before she humiliates herself infront of him.

Her crown didn’t fit and he had to do a little more grinding. Meanwhile, Holly’s entering the room and Y/N shuts her eyes pretending that she isn’t there.

It hurts. Not in her tooth. Everywhere. Like a force is ripping her apart through a saw and it hurls her into deep agony and her heart almost stops functioning.

Harry was too focused and worried about her eerie behaviour that he ignored the frail hits on his thigh and Holly’s taking his name loudly making him stop.

Y/N’s jolting up and gagging into the sink beside her. Her knuckles turning white from gripping it ruthlessly.

She stares the clots of blood and mucus washing away with blurry eyes.

“Baby?” Harry quickly rubs her back anxiously and scrutinise with raucous beating heart as her hands shivers cupping the water and taking it in her mouth.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Are y'okay? Pet?” His voice drips with panic and dread that the worst happened to her because of him --– if the case's true he's never gonna touch her again.

“Y/N!?” He’s growling loudly when she doesn’t reply him and keeps on crying. His eyes turning back concerned and soft when she hiccups a weep, “It hurts Harry ....” Holly rolls her eyes, leans against the desk and puts the file she brought to Harry beside her.

“You’re not a child anymore, Y/N. Ofcourse it’s gonna hurt.” She snickers and this makes Y/N cry more – Harry’s holding her hands in his and stroking his thumb at her knuckles.

“Dunno --...– maybe –- ma —,” Harry’s emerald eyes are boring into her murky one's and it pierces her soul away from her inside.

Their heads perk up when Holly asks her rudely, “Are you doubting Harry?”

Y/N shakes her tiny defeated head vigorously, “No! Why —.. why would I?” More tears pooling in her waterline and dropping at the back of Harry’s hand. He rushes to wipe them away and shush her but Holly’s acidic laugh is echoing.

How could she even think that?

Y/N could never doubt him.

Why she has to be so mean to her everytime?

“I mean you —,” Holly opens her mouth to speak but Harry’s cutting her off sharply, “Dr. Jenner enough. I’ll appreciate it if you wait f'me outside.” His head snaps back to Y/N who’s wiggling out of his hold and gasping out -- her pupils blown out and woozy.

“I just need a breather.” Saying this she’s out before Holly leaving Harry baffled and agitated to ponder over how she was pain and he failed to realise sooner.

..

The zephyr is tranquil. Frolicking with her heart and the grass is dewy under her as she runs towards an empty bench outside where there’s barely any light and she wishes Harry never comes to look for her.

She’s such a mess.

Her chest suffocates with a sob. She’s trying to lull her breath back to normal just like he tells her to.

When she flutters her eyelids into vision a hand with a cross on it’s thumb is pressed onto the bench beside her and there’s an afflicted pause in the atmosphere before she slowly faces him and places her hand atop his hand.

Her breath shudders through a smile, the tension in between them thickening as Harry feels her so close but so distant from him.

Emotionally and mentally and even their souls feels trapped within their own bodies.

It upsets him, to see his Bambi like that,

“’M so sorry, Harry. My intention wasn’t to embarrass you.” She isn’t serious? Sometimes he wants to bang his head at nearby wall at her silliness.

“You didn’t.” He assures her gently.

“But I did. Infront of the person you love.” It pains to say it. In the end she could suffer from anything for his happiness even if it’s handing him to the wrong person if he loves them.

Harry’s eyes turn moist at that. An unbelievable sour laugh eliciting from his lungs as he shoves his palms into his sockets, rubs them harshly and grasps her wrists pulling her closer to him with one furious tug.

“Yeah because that’s you, dumbass!!” Y/N’s body turns into a stone at his stern confession and she’s staring him with a throb in her heart and sad kitten eyes.

His brows pricks together ferociously and his lips twitches up as he speaks chopped on tears, “Every Daphne I pick up from the side-grass while comin’ back home t’you, these stupid stars in sky ‘n these ...” His shoes scrapes against the grass as he tries to show her, “....these stupid stupid shoelaces I tie around me ankles,” He’s raising his wrist to show her the milk bottle tattoo he got for he’s in love with her and their cats, once they were drunk, “... this fuckin' tattoo I got —- ‘s always been you.” He let’s the tears shine on his cheeks and soak them rosy.

“Always you, Bambi.” His accent gluteus and hoarse, “You’re always gonna be my sweet Bambi. Who I adore and love so much.”

“How?” She whispers in bewilderment and when Harry’s warming his forehead against her's tickling her lips as he murmurs, “Because you thought we'd be a wonderful us.”

A sob is wrecking out of her and she’s wrapping her arms around the nape of his neck pulling him down into a bone crushing hug, as the night they first confessed and had their first kiss makes a home in her mind.

She’s glad they didn’t forget their first.

“I love you.” Harry mumbles through a squished up cheek and saturates their chests closer with his hand planted firmly over her spine.

“I love you too. So much of it.” They’re crying elated tears knowing they’ve eachother to wipe them away and he’s sponging a tender kiss to her mouth and the corner of her lip avoiding where it’s swollen and her cheek is bloated.

The metallic taste of her blood lingers on his own lips.

“I could even kiss your bloody mouth, see?” He giggles feathering back his lips to her lips and gives her a chastise peck.

“Let’s put your crown, my highness.” Harry scoops up giggles from within her and tries to cherish this moment for as long as possible.

He’s never gonna forget his first, done twice.

..

Not a days go by where they don’t make love to eachother. A string of knot that connects their souls as Harry keeps his cock warm inside her while sleeping and it fattens inside her when they’re about to wake up and Harry’s rolling his hips into her lazily and gradually getting out breathy hums and whispers of whines from her —- her ankles locks behind his back and he’s always hitting and caressing the spots inside her which she was never able to reach herself with her short fingers.

Their bath times are intimate. Not full of adrenaline and thrill that one would end up having a foot cast from tripping from their playfulness, like they used to everytime. It’s delicate touches. Soft back rubs. Foamy head massages and cuddly bubbles. Smooching wet kisses. Heated makeout sessions and then drying eachother off, brushing teeth together and going to bed wearing eachother’s mismatched clothes.

Their mornings are spent lounging in bed and sharing a little love, sweet irresistible kisses, mouth sweet with eachother's tongues and hands comforting eachother, having a satisfying brekkie together in bed and sometimes the other is too tired to go (it’s usually Harry) and they always remind them they’re gonna come back home to eachother.

Harry made, Y/N explore herself. Introduced her to the tingles of what it feels to be rough and have a good shag that sends her into her sub-space where she doesn’t stop thrashing and spasming under him and He’s always there to bring her back to him and to take care of her.

They sometime do it in his office room too. Whenever she’s visiting him and he looks to alluring that Y/N could swallow him whole and his thighs man-spread deliciously as he sits on the stool in his damn scrubs, “You c’mere.” He pats his thigh dirtily in a command for her to straddle him and ride his cock and she’s always obeying like a good bunny moaning out feeling him in her tummy.

They’ve had countless of sex in Harry’s living room which they turned into a working studio for Y/N and whenever she's painting sometimes naked to tease him, how could Harry resist when she looks ethereal with her peachy bosom and her adorable tummy rolls and her innocent eyes and her cushiony thighs —- so he just pushes her thighs that he’s oh so in love with to her chest and pins her to floor and fucks her till she isn’t satiated enough.

Shower sex and bit of striptease when Harry’s knackered out. The hot water that prattles on their toes and their sweaty skins that slaps against eachother’s makes it much filthier and nastier.

They’ve bunch of romantic sex too. Oh boy! Just loads of romance where he’s too soft and mushy and dotting with her.

Sometimes, two people have deep connection that makes seem romance trivial and it isn’t about lust everytime. It’s about their souls. About the deepest part of who they’re as a person. Who they could be for eachother when the time strikes.

Just like right now. As, the stars twinkle outside and the dark snowy wind hits the windows; checked by the occasional gust that rattles the rooftop and the wood would creak to tell it’s presence. Fragrance of scented candles that of peonies, sparkling champagne and crème almonds surrounds them.

Harry brought Y/N on a holiday at a mountain and had a warm cosy wooden cottage booked for themselves.

They’ve spent it enjoying themselves and forgetting about their life in city. Today, the layer of foamy crystal snow is more than usual and they decided to cuddle up into their own little comfy cubby.

He takes his time feeling her skin and she nuzzles her nose up in his throat and giggles when he purrs.

The fire churning infront of them is similar to the one quenching in his belly as he sneaks his hand under her slip dress and fondles her nipples in between his calloused fingers.

“I wanna make love t'you, Muffy.” He mumbles grazing his blunt teeth down her sweaty pulse and laps at it splaying his palm close to her bum when she arches up into him, “I’m all yours.” She guppies around a gasp and he’s chuckling sweetly cradling her face in his hold and brews his lips against her's in a passionate endearingly hot kiss that moists her breath and her each ravine pore fills with love for him.

Their chests burns with carnal desire as he lays them on the flumpy nest of bed they made from blankets and pillows, his mouth keeps on tasting her with ardent fever and he situates himself between her and grinds their pelvises sensing her nipples stitching under his fingers and she’s gnawing her teeth into his petalish lip when he fills his palms with her tits.

“So cute.” He quips when she gasps whining for him to smudge his cocoa-vaseline covered lips back on her's and her lips brushes against his clavicles, emitting a perfervid whimper as Harry strokes his palm to feel her arousal and juices, “Hmm. I could just give you a flyin' kiss and you’ll still end up squirting.” He's easing his middle finger inside her and gazes her with profound sweetness when she pushes her palm up against his large moth and punctuates soft kisses to his vein at the side of his neck that prominents from their intimacy.

“Fuck. You get t've me cock daily but still so snug, pet. G’na stretch y'nice ‘n good.” He grunts, trailing soppy kisses down the valley of her breasts. Slicking his mouth around her nipple and she whines hungrily unceasing her fingers in his curls and pulls at them bringing him down for more kisses, “You love my kisses baby? Hmm? My baby loves me kisses ...” He coos suckling onto her lower lip and latches back full to her mouth and perennials it into pastels of wetness.

Sips down her moans when he slithers three more fingers into her and fits them deep, cupping his palm against her pussy. Something weirdly soft about his bare ring-less fingers and he runs his hips into her, “Feels good?” He growls looking down where his fingers drives into her.

When she bobs her head hungrily. She squirms – goosebumps pebbling on her skin and the mellow glow of candles melting on her when he pecks her and pecks her again, kissing her tongue as he mumbles, “Bet. It’ll feel more good with my cock inside y’pussy. Tell me moppet, who's little cunt is this?” He asks wiggling his middle finger to nudge the walnut shaped spot inside her – tucked within her walls and his other hand’s pressing her thigh to floor as he saps his teeth into her neck and leaves love bites.

Marking her as his’s.

“Yours. Please, it’s all yours.” She sobs out ardently. Crumbling and lurking at the edge to hold this pleasing feeling for some moment in her belly.

“Right.” He affirms. Licking the maroon marks he littered on her puddy skin and he's grabbing her shivery hand that was about to cup around his cock and stroke it, “You’re mine.” He strings their fingers together and brings it to his lips to kiss the soft pads of her fingers.

“All mine to love on, to cherish, to be proud of –-- You’re my little Bambi.” His infatuated dotting words are making her strike herself into him, quivering and blabbering, eyes shut in bliss and love and he’s helping her ride the sensation out.

The moment he’s taking his fingers out he’s interlacing those sticky cum covered fingers with her other hand and stretching her arms and pinning their winded hands atop her head into floor.

They’re moaning into waxy humidity when Harry sheathes into her and her walls soaps around his girth as he sinks himself into her, his heavy balls pressed buried deep to her bum and he’s smushing his face into her breasts and almost snuggles into her knowing how much she loves to just be wrapped into him as he pounds his cock inside her.

He’s sweltering his hips. Feeling her gooey warmth and rolls himself harder and she’s crossing her arms around his shoulder – kissing his neck and caressing the curls that’ve grown out a tad under his earlobes.

“I love you,” He's nosing at her jaw to tip her mouth towards him and kisses it —- his hold on her delicate but she’s coveting crescents into his knuckles and a bow of string connects their mouths as she pecks him till she’s running out of breath, “I love you. I love you so so much.” Even though they’re taking their time but Y/N doesn’t think she could last a minute longer the way he’s thrusting languidly but deeply into her.

“Show me then, c’mon baby cum on m’cock. Soak it. G'na keep it inside you ‘n sleep like tha', mphmp makin' me so so good —- g'na cum?” He rasps out and she’s whimpering blubbering out without much mind as he stuffs her full and enough.

Her voice meek and high-pitch, “Yeah, yeah, yeah.” She’s dripping all over him and coating him with her cum. He doesn’t not stop and pumps it back inside her roughly.

“Fuck. Baby.” His howl wounded and broken as he feels his balls tighten and he leaks inside her, “S'okay honey cum inside me Harry .. love how you make me feel – how big your cock is.” She grates her teeth into the eternity of his throat and punctures her lips to suck around the fading hickey she gave him two nights prior.

His hips stutters, and he keeps himself up with his weak elbows spurting ribbons and ribbons of thick seed inside her.

She moans out when he wouldn’t stop cumming and she thrashes upward with a final twist of his push, his words sultry and drunk on libido, “Fuck. I came so much – you’ll ‘ave to squeeze tha’ all out fo’ me,” He’s smoothing their arms down to let them be on eachother and Y/N sees the gears working in his mind when he grins.

“In case you’ll want a refill.”

She rolls her eyes cheek smashed into his bicep and pinches his nipple, “Way to ruin the moment –- you libido driven slut." A noise peeps out of her when he whumps on her and looks up at her with an amused expression.

“Y'know tha' slut shaming is inappropriate?” She just shrugs smiling around a yawn.

“Is that an invitation to whore shame y'then?” He listens to her heartbeat. Tracing pattern of yellow flicker on her skin and kisses the curve of her breast.

“Will that end up me havin' yer fingers in my bum?” She creampies around him at his genuine yet naughty question and he snorts out loudly stirring his cock on purpose that’s still snug inside her, “Hmm then ‘m defo a whore.”

“Harry!” She pouts and he squishes that pout as if she’s some duckling -- an old habit he'd never get rid of.

..

“Mrs. Styles!” Holly’s head perks up at the call and she’s looking down at the five month old baby that has her bum situated on her momma’s hip and she squeals joyfully bunching her momma's shirt in her tiny chubby hands.

Holly just simpers quietly not greeting the duo and keeps on walking as Y/N enters Harry’s office room.

His face brightens up. Dimples popping awfully cute just how Y/N loves and his smile widens into a toothy one as he leaves everything and scurries towards his girls, “Oh my two Bambis!” He's greeting them with loud sloppy loving kisses all over their faces that makes them squint their eyes and giggle ticklish from the faint stubble that’s growing on his chin.

Their baby. Harry never thought he was able to love someone this purely and extremely. From a grumpy kid himself and someone who used to loose his shit at the formula chugging machines he used to call them —-- he never even imagined to own one.

But, after two years into marriage and moving into a house with the love of his life everything had a possibility for him and their one room that’d look so empty just made his stomach squeaky and yearn for a little one that he could protect and hold delicately close to his chest and lather them in his kisses and smell their baby scent and have cuddles with them,

Harry really wanted her to be a December baby -- if not particular then winters.

Because she just looks like the joy of Christmas and the sapience of homely evening.

Her frost bitten poppy nose. Her plushy warm cheeks that of running his fingers over an old sweater that holds infinite memories for him, the shimmer in her eyes that of snowflakes and those lips she got from her mother that of marshmallows melting on hot chocolate.

Harry really fucked his dream of her being a winter baby by fucking Y/N at the wrong time of the year.

She ended up coming out on the most heated month, june.

Wasn’t his fault too. Because they were trying for so long and he'd be all excited for the pregnancy tests but then they'd come out negative everytime weighing a ball of sadness in his chest and when they conceived her –-- he didn’t even remember the damn date.

The pregnancy for them wasn’t that hard. Minus the eventual tantrums that were thrown his way as daggers but he was skilled to dodge them and lure his wifey back to him with chocolate chip cookies.

The process of her birth was life taking for Y/N and Harry had short comings in his breath from the way his wife would all be jerking in pain.

She had to endure the labour pain for three days.

It’d always tear him into sobs as he'd fall into Rori's arms while everyone stayed inside with her for a moment.

It wasn’t easy to look at the love of his life, his bestfriend, his Bambi, his everything go through so much pain and he almost ended up regretting having a baby but when she’d be all snuggled up into his side after a long tiring and screaming day with her bump swollen beautifully with his bubba inside, it used to relax him a bit,

When she came out all sticky and covered in blood he realized at that moment that; she truly is his’s.

Those earthy gem eyes that didn’t cry first five minutes but rather kept on staring at him intrigued as to why the man that used to chatter her ears away in thick sleepy accent when she was in the cosy spot of her mummy’s belly is now just crying and crying.

They made her with so much love and care.

She was just so soft to touch. Just like their favourite flowers.

She was his Daphne.

He’s grabbing her from armpits and immediately putting a hand under her diaper clad bum when she huffed making grabby hands at him, “Hi Daphne bub! Missed daddy much?” He coos bouncing her a little and rumbles his lips against her cheek to create farty noises.

She squeals fisting his hair and yanks at it. That makes Y/N laugh out loudly, “Careful there, H. She’s getting quite handsy.” He just smiles convincing his baby to have some mercy on his curls.

When Y/N tells him about his routine and her nap timing Harry’s just sighing kissing her lips and patting her ass to move, “I can take care of me baby -- doin' it fo' five months, forgot?” He took a paternity leave to spend more time with Daphne and his Bambi.

To be sure that they were growing and healing well.

Y/N has to take the cats for their monthly checkup that’s why she has to leave Daphne with Harry and even though she’s not fond of her in hospitals Harry assured her that he’s heading home soon.

When Y/N leaves, Harry blows raspberries at her face and she pouts just like her mummy and he’s squishing that pout like his own little duckling.

“Da',” She grumbles and Harry kisses her cheek fondly and lovingly, “Yes Da, bubblin. Guess like we’ve got a date with Pooh and Roo at home.” He guffaws out loudly when Daphne's eyes visibly twinkles at the name of her plushies she likes to chew on and get them all soggy by the end of the day.

“You’re such a minx, baby!” Harry thinks he couldn’t be happier.

He’s complete.

His family is complete.

[hopelikethemoon]

Telenovela (Javier x Reader) {MTMF}

Title: Telenovela  Rating: PG-13 Length: 2300 Warnings: None Notes: You can find everything about Maybe Today, Maybe Forever here. Set in 1990.  Summary: Javier, Steve, and Reader have to get a motel.  

@grapemama @seawhisperer @huliabitch @pedropascalito @rogrsnbarnes @thewallpapergoesorido @twomoonstwosuns @gooddaykate @livasaurasrex @ham4arrow @plexflexico @readsalot73 @hdlynn @lokiaddicted @randomness501 @fioccodineveautunnale  @roxypeanut @snivellusim @lukesrighthand @historynerd04 @mrsparknuts @synystersilenceinblacknwhite @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @exrebelshocktrooper @awesomefandomsunited @ah-callie @swhiskeys @lady-tano @beskar-droids @space-floozy @cable-kenobi @cool-ultra-nerd @himbopoes @findhimfives @pedrosdoll @frietiemeloen @arrowswithwifi @random066 @uncomicalhumour @heather-lynn​ @domino-oh-damn @cyarikaaa @ahopelessromanticwritersworld @im-still-a-pieceofgarbage @ksgeekgirl​  @yabby-girl​ @xqueenofthecraziesx​ @punkass-potato​ @coredrive​ @pascalesque​ @theduchessofkirkcaldy​ @queenquazar​ @sabinemorans​ @buckstaposition​ @holkaskrosnou​

“Javier, do you only know where the shitty motels are in this country?” You groused, shielding your eyes from the setting sun as you stared ahead at the dilapidated motel which boasted FREE AIR CONDITIONING. That seemed highly unlikely. 

Javier took off his aviators, passing them to you as he looked to Steve in the back seat. “You willing to drive twelve hours back to the city?”

“Uh…”

“That’s what I thought,” Javier clicked his tongue against his teeth, giving you a lingering look before he climbed out of the car. “I’ll get us the rooms.” 

You arched a brow as you turned around to look at Steve. “I think we don’t have much of a choice.”

“Yeah, I got that vibe too.” He quipped as you both climbed out of the Jeep and followed Javier into the motel office. 

As you anticipated — there was no air conditioning to be found inside. Behind the older gentleman at the front desk sat no less than five fans, all running at the highest setting in an attempt to cool down the room.  

Steve folded his arms across his chest as he stared at the back of Javier’s head as he parsed things out with the motel owner. He turned towards you, “What’s going on?”

“For fuck’s sake, Murphy. Learn. Spanish.” You slapped him playfully in the arm, shaking your head. “Hang on,” You told him before you stepped forward, pulling your badge out of your back pocket and laying it on the desk for Miguel — the owner — to review. 

You turned back towards Steve then, “Unsurprisingly, he didn’t believe Javier when he said we were just three co-workers.” 

“What?” Steve questioned, before his eyes widened. “Oh.”

“Yeah.” You rolled your eyes, pocketing your badge. “Optics.” Hell, sometimes you were fairly certain there were people in the DEA that didn’t realize they had a female agent on the team. That you weren’t just a local that had got roped in to working as an informant. 

You glanced back towards Javier and Miguel, throwing in a snarky comment about Steve’s inability to speak Spanish which earned you a grin from Javi. 

Murphy was lucky he had the two of you — otherwise he’d be fucked. 

“Unfortunately,” You explained to him. “They only have one room available for tonight.”

“Fucking typical.”

Miguel filled out the reimbursement form for Javier, passing it back across the counter with two room keys. 

“Gracias!” Steve offered, before he followed you and Javier out of the office and back into the sweltering heat of the early evening. 

The motel room was about what you expected it to be. There was one bed in the center of the room, which fortunately looked like it had clean sheets. But the hideous carpet had several questionable stains, which matched the curtains that covered the window. 

“Well...” Your brows rose upwards, “I’ll sleep in the chair.” You told them as you stepped into the room. “You boys can have the bed.”

Javier scoffed, “You’re not sleeping on the chair.” 

“I’m not sleeping on the floor.” You protested. “It’s fine, Javi.” You moved towards the chair, sinking down onto it. 

It was shit. One of the legs was clearly shorter than the rest and there was no cushion to the pleather seat. 

“See.”

He glared at you, “Steve, you’re sleeping in the chair.”

Murphy gave a short laugh, “Nice try, Peña.” He crossed his arms across his chest, shaking his head. “You can sleep in the chair.”

Javier pressed his tongue to the inside of his cheek, staring Steve down. There was something unspoken that was exchanged in that look — one you weren’t privy too. “Fine.”

You rose to your feet, looking between the two of them, before your gaze fell to the bed. “It’s a King. I bet it would fit the three of us.” It would be a tight fit — but it would solve whatever this stalemate was. 

“Javier will be fine in the chair.” Steve stated firmly, scratching at the back of his neck. “Right?”

“Yeah.” He rocked his jaw slowly, before looking towards you. “You want anything from the D1?” 

“I’ll come with you.” You suggested, “Murphy can you get our shit out of the Jeep?” You questioned, passing the room key to him. 

“Yeah, sure.”

Javier raked his fingers through his hair, glaring at Steve again. “What do you want?”

“If they have any of that apple stuff…”

“Postobón?” You questioned. “I’m buying you a Spanish textbook for your next birthday.”

“I think he’s just putting on,” Javier suggested. “If he doesn’t know the language, we get to do all the hard work.”

You snorted, “Then he’d know what I said about him in the office.”

Javier grinned at you. “That was a good one.”

“Oh, I know.” You smirked, before looking back towards Steve. “No offense.”

“None taken.”

——

 The D1 was a five-minute walk down the road from the motel. The sun had nearly dipped below the horizon by the time you reached it. 

“You gonna tell me what the fuck that was about?” You questioned, shifting the basket from one hand to the other as you grabbed a couple bottles of Postobón, loading the basket.

“What was what?” Javier questioned, arching a brow as he looked at you. 

“That look between you and Steve.” You narrowed your eyes at him. “I really don’t mind sleeping in the chair.”

“It’s fine.” He shrugged a shoulder. “We’ll get a couple hours of shut-eye and hit the road at first light.”

“Alright.” You studied him as he turned back towards the shelves, grabbing a bag of chips off the shelf and stowing it in his own basket. “What? Are you afraid to sleep in a bed with Steve?” You teased lightly. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell the assholes at the embassy.”

He flipped you off.

“I’ll even promise to keep my hands to myself.” You arched a brow, a smirk playing over your lips. “Unless you’re into the alternative.”

Javier nearly dropped the bottle of lemon-flavored Postobón he’d grabbed for himself. “Fuck off.”

You rolled your eyes, “Just a suggestion.”

Something about the look he fixed you with made a shiver run down your spine. It was hard to read what the look meant, to begin with. Did he hate that suggestion that much? Usually he didn’t take much offense to the barbing comments you exchanged with each other. 

But Javier was a hard one to read on a good day, sometimes. 

 ———

You sat in between Steve and Javier on the bed, staring at the TV screen across the room. After thirty minutes of fussing with the antenna, Steve had managed to coax the television into working. 

“One of you is going to have to interpret,” He complained as he settled on a channel that was playing re-runs of Gallito Ramírez. Something that both you and Javier were willing to settle on, given that Steve wasn’t going to understand it anyways. 

“Eat your chips and hush.” You quipped as you nudged him in the ribs playfully. “If you watched more telenovelas, you’d likely learn Spanish.” 

“I know some Spanish.” He said as he ate a chip. “Is that guy’s name Javier?”

“Wow.” You snorted. 

Javier met your eyes and chuckled, “At least he knows my name.” 

“Oh, fuck you both.” Steve huffed, taking a sip of his drink. “What’s the synopsis.” 

“It’s stupid.” You answered, “Javier — Gallito — is training to become a boxer. He’s in love with Carmenza, but she’s from a wealthy family above his social class.” 

“She also wants him to quit boxing.” Javier added. 

“Yeah.” You nodded your head, looking towards Steve. “And then there’s this other woman—”

“Diana.” 

“Who he’s also in love with. She’s in the same social class as him.” You stole a chip out of Javier’s bag, taking a moment to eat it before you continued. “But he belongs with Carmenza.” 

Steve tilted his head to look at the two of you, “And you’ve both watched this?”

You nodded, “It ended back in… 1986 or 1987. It’s always on at night.” 

He arched a brow at you, “Really?”

“Get your head out of your ass, Murphy.” Javier snapped. “Neither of us sleep. And this shit’s always on.” 

“I wish I had Margarita’s hair,” You remarked as you leaned towards Javi and rested your cheek against his shoulder. 

“Well, since I don’t have a fucking clue what’s going on… I’m going to take a shower.” Steve dusted his hands off on the front of his jeans, before he moved to get out of the bed. “Javier, get your bed sorted out.”

“Real funny.” He sat his drink aside and moved to get out of the bed. You watched him as he moved towards the corner of the room, pulling the chair towards the table. 

“Are you sure you don’t mind sleeping over there?” You questioned, tucking your legs beneath you as you sat up, your eyes drifting back towards the TV as the main characters kissed. “Carlos has the best hair.” 

Javier rolled his eyes, “Yeah, I’m fine sleeping over here. It’s not so bad.” He said as he propped a pillow up on the chair. “See?” 

You looked back at him then, smiling a little. “We’ll see if you think it’s ‘not so bad’ in the morning.” You teased lightly, “Did you know they got married in real life?”

“Hmm?” 

“Carlos and Margarita.”

He pursed his lips, “Not surprised.” Javier nodded his head towards the screen. “No one can act that in love with someone and not really be.” 

“Like you know anything about love.” You scoffed as you climbed out of bed, rolling up the two bags of chips and using the hair tie on your wrist to close them up. 

You caught him staring at you as you looked back at him, but he looked away quickly, his eyes fixed on the TV again. 

Then again — what did you know about love?

———

 “How are you doing over there?” You questioned, your eyes barely able to make out the outline of Javier in the darkness of the motel room. You could hear him shuffling around in the chair, trying to find a comfortable position. 

He wasn’t going to find one.

“Go to sleep.” He grumbled, huffing again and — from what you could hear — the chair must’ve threatened to tip over on the bed leg as he tried to find a better way to sit. “Fuck.” Javier swore as something that sounded like an arm or a leg hit against the little table that was beside the chair. There was another solid thud, which sounded more like a person hitting the floor. 

“For fuck’s sake, Javier.” Steve hissed out. “What are you doing?” The bed dipped beside you a second before he turned the bedside lamp on.

You tried hard not to laugh as you took in the sight of Javier sprawled out on the floor with the table toppled over on him. “How the fuck did you do that?”

“Piece of shit chair—” He cut himself off as he hauled himself up off the floor. “Goddamn piece of shit knocked itself over.” Javier explained lamely, pushing his fingers through his hair as he looked towards the bed. “I was trying to prop my legs up.” 

“Yeah.” You pursed your lips, fighting the urge to laugh at his plight. “Javier, there’s plenty of room over here.” You gestured at the expanse of real estate between you and Steve. 

“I’m fine.” He insisted, looking towards Steve briefly. You turned to glare at Steve, catching his gaze as he sighed heavily. 

“Stephen Murphy.” You warned him, “I don’t know what your deal is. But let the poor man sleep in the bed. Otherwise we’re both going to be paying for it tomorrow.”

“Jesus Christ.” He raked his hand over his face, sinking back against the bed. “Fine, whatever. Get up here Javier.” 

“The chair isn’t—” 

“I will knock you unconscious with that chair if you don’t get over here and lay the fuck down, Javier.” You seethed. “You’re gonna sit over there, huffing and puffing all night and none of us are gonna get any sleep.”

“Technically,” Steve interrupted. “I was asleep before he fell.” 

You glared at him. “As I was saying,” You settled Javier with his own look. “Get over here and lay down and shut the fuck up. Both of you.” 

Men. The great lengths men would go to, just to avoid having to sleep in a bed with each other. Though, Javier had refused to sleep in the bed with just you too. Regardless, they were both being idiots about the situation. 

“We’re going to be twice as tired tomorrow if we don’t get some sleep and frankly, I’d really love it if you two didn’t fight like old women the entire way home back you didn’t get your beauty sleep.”

“For the record,” Javier nodded his head towards Steve. “He needs a hell of a lot more beauty sleep than I do.” 

You snorted, “Whatever helps you sleep at night.” 

Javier feigned offense as he climbed up into the middle of the bed. With both you and Steve on your sides, Javier had plenty of room between the two of you. 

“Better?” Steve asked as he shut off the bedside light, sending the room into darkness once more. 

“Much.” Javier answered him as he reached towards you and rested his hand against your back for a brief moment. “Thank you.” He added and you couldn’t help but smile to yourself. 

“Whatever.” Steve mumbled, thinking Javier was thanking him. You swore your back still burned in the wake of his touch and you had to talk yourself down from getting anywhere near that ledge. 

Javier wasn’t that guy. 

This wasn’t some cheesy telenovela.