#joint noises are not fun i would like not to have joint noises yet please

[deeisace]

I got up to do yoga for the first time in. possibly years.

cs my brain is a hellscape that won't let me do actual work

my sewing is right there and i'm not fucking doing it. why.

anyway warrior pose made every one of my joints crunch

maybe i should start doing yoga again huh

[knightjpg]

Brick by Brick

And like a dog who's learned a new trick Simon rings your bell the next day. Wasn't happy with how he left it, and wasn't that faucet leaking? He's got plenty of spare wood in his shed, don't you worry. What's that about the boiler making a weird noise? He'll take a look at it, might have something for the draft in the hallway too. Pay him? What are you talking about, he does stuff like this for fun. Don't sweat it, love. Just hand him that wrench.

tags: construction worker simon/neighbour reader

part 1 | part 2

Summer is the worst time of year for construction work outside. Up early before the birds are awake to try and beat the heat, arriving on site at six or earlier with bleary eyes and creaky joints from the day before. It means coming home at four or five with lots of day left to get through yet without the will or energy to do anything beside shower, eat, watch some telly, and sleep. 

The pay is good and it beats sitting in a cramped office all day, but when Simon gets home with aching knees and the thrum of a headache at the back of his skull it's hard to remember why on Earth he chose the career he's in. He's drenched in sweat, large dark patches adorning his pits and back. 

It's one of those days where very little can make him stray from his commute straight to home to collapse into his big falling-apart chair, but today it's not really up to him. A large moving truck blocks his driveway. The faded company logo against dirty white overtakes the entire view of his windshield, though Simon can see the back doors are still swung open. No one to attend to it, though. 

Simon noticed the FOR SALE! sign had gone, of course. Remembers feeling vaguely pleased, even, that the home next to his wouldn't be empty anymore, because he of all people knows exactly how quickly places can fall apart without anyone tending to it. But right now all he feels is tired, and hot, and really fucking annoyed. Just when he's clicked his belt loose to get out of the car and see if the dolt belonging to the truck is anywhere to be found, voices carry from the open front door. 

“...last. I'm afraid it's a little heavy, though, so maybe we should get the boxes out first?” 

And out steps the sweetest little thing he's ever seen. Hair tied up, tight little top, and shorts that give him ample view of your legs.  

Maybe summer's not so bad after all. 

You're talking to a bloke wearing a uniform that matches the moving truck and who looks flushed in the face from exertion. As soon as you clock Simon's car, though, you stop mid-sentence in surprise, and then quickly walk to him, brows furrowed apologetically. 

“Oh, I'm so sorry—you're trying to get past us, aren't you?” Simon gives you a nod, and you turn back to the mover. “Would you mind moving the truck up a little? I don't want it to be in the way.” 

There's precious little parking space ahead, so Simon rolls down his window and calls out to you, “Jus’ backing up a few yards s’fine.” He gestures to his driveway so you know that's where he's headed, and you flash him a smile and a thumbs-up in understanding. 

The truck is moved, Simon parks his car, and you pull another heavy-looking box from the cube. You never reach your new doorstep with it; Simon steps in and lifts it from your hands. You blink up at him, lashes fluttering sweetly with surprise. “Oh—are you sure? It's heavy...!” 

One corner of Simon's mouth tugs up. Tired as he is it weighs next to nothing, and he can't resist holding it with one arm, holding out the other. 

“Can take ‘nother if you need.” 

You laugh and assure him this is quite enough, then jog back to the truck while Simon pushes past the half-open door to his new neighbour's home. 

It's a mess, of course. Piles of boxes, scattered furniture, rolled-up carpets. Simon puts the box down in the living room, then saunters back outside to lift another from your hands. He does the same with the couch; the mover is struggling and Simon doesn't trust him not to let it fall and crash. And you're such a little thing. Just doesn't feel right, watching you rush around and struggle without stepping in. 

With Simon's help it's quick work. The mover thanks Simon before driving off, but he's not really listening. There's much more important things to pay attention to. 

You're pretty. Cheeks flushed from exertion, breathing hard, flyaway hairs from your ponytail sticking up in odd directions. Simon has to suppress the urge to smooth them away. 

"Thanks so much for the help,” you tell him earnestly. “I'm sorry we were in the way—we thought we'd have a little more time before people started coming home from work.” 

“S’alright,” Simon says. It's nearing evening, now, the sky above you glowing in pale pink and oranges hues. The little smatter of trees across from you rustles with a gust of summer wind.  

You introduce yourself and insist on giving Simon your number “in case there's ever anything you need.” Simon's more concerned about a young woman living all on her own but takes your number all the same, watching your pretty little fingers tap it in on his phone. 

“I mostly work from home, but I'm very quiet and boring,” you tell him with a smile. “You don't have to worry about noise.” 

For some reason that isn't the selling point it should be. When Simon stands inside his hallway, house empty and dark and quiet, he wishes he still lived in a shitty apartment with thin walls on the bad side of Manchester. Maybe then he'd hear your footsteps, or better yet, your voice. Instead the only thing waiting for him at home is silence. Heavy and thick, where he's ripped away from sweet sunshine and plunged underwater. 

-

Simon is halfway to falling asleep on the couch when the bell rings. He groans, drags a hand over his face, and glances up at the TV. The football match is still going. The camera pans over a cheering crowd, their cries distant and quiet. 

He mutes the thing entirely and heaves himself up to open the door. Swear to God, if this is the fucking salesman again... 

“Hi there.” 

You give Simon a little finger wave, your other hand cradling a round oven dish. When you shift on your feet the protective foil on top rustles noisily. 

You look a little more put together than you did yesterday—rested, showered, fed. Just as pretty. 

Although, speaking of fed... 

“Alright?” Simon asks, eyes on the oven pan. He's only catching a faint whiff of something, but whatever it is smells really fucking good. His stomach reminds him that the only thing in his fridge are a couple cans of beer.  

You nod and lift the dish with a shy little grin. “Yeah. Um. I wanted to say thanks again, for yesterday. And I wanted to test out my oven, so...” 

You hold the dish out for him to take. Simon's fingers brush yours, large meaty paws easily twice the size of your own. When he peels back the foil you add, “Shepherd's pie. I thought about cookies, but I wasn't sure if you'd like those.” 

The scent hits him, then, rich and hearty and buttery smooth. The dish is still a little warm. 

Fuck. When was the last time he ate something homemade? 

“No, I'll eat anything,” he says, suddenly feeling a little self-conscious. He hasn't showered yet. Must look a nightmare. Does he stink? “Thanks.” 

Your whole face lights up, and Simon's neck feels hot. He averts his eyes to avoid your gaze and pretends to inspect the pie instead. Jesus, what is he, twelve? “I'm glad. I'll leave you to it, then.” 

D’you want to come in for a drink?  

It's on the tip of his tongue, but he can't get the words out quite right and gives you a brusque nod, watching you walk back to your own home before closing his door all the way. 

He eats at his kitchen table and finishes the whole thing in one go. Chases bits of flakey crust with his finger, licks up every leftover crumb. The meat is tender and juicy and for a while after the only things he smells is golden-brown potatoes seasoned with rosemary. 

He mourns it when it's gone, of course. Has half a mind to go over right now and ask if your cooking is for hire—Simon can't remember the last time he felt satisfied. When he ate not just for the sake of fuel or convenience but because someone wanted him to have something nice, something special. Is it special? Is he special? Are you going around the neighbourhood handing out cookies and pies to just anyone? 

Simon's sigh is loud in the silence and sticks to the kitchen walls. 

The pre-made frozen meals are fine, of course. Empty plastic containers fill up the rubbish bin. They're easy and cheap and most days Simon's glad just to have something warm in his stomach.  

And yet. 

The next day Simon stands at your door at six in the evening sharp, holding the clean dish in his hands. You invite him in for a cup of tea, because unlike him you have good manners, and you sheepishly apologise for the stacks of boxes everywhere. 

“S’alright,” Simon says, carefully manoeuvring around a large pile of books. “I don't mind.” 

And he doesn't, though he does feel like a bull in a china shop. Large and much too coarse for the little tea cup you hand him while the kettle whistles on the stove. 

“I'm afraid I don't have much to go with it,” you say with a flutter of your hands. “Do you like ginger snaps? I think I've got a pack somewhere.” 

You don't wait for his answer and pry open one of the cupboards. First come the ginger snaps, then the box of Earl Grey, which you hold up to him with a triumphant smile. “Unpacked the important stuff first.” 

Simon frowns and jerks his chin to the cupboard. “S’it stuck?” 

“Oh—yeah. They all are.” You give the wood a little knock. “It'll take me some time to get to fixing everything. The house went for a good price, but only ‘cause it needs some love.” You give him a rueful smile and get up, wiping your hands on your thighs. “I'm not all that handy, so I'll have to take it bit by bit.” 

Simon rises before you finish your sentence. "Let me see.” 

“Oh, no, it's okay. It's not a big deal, really—” 

Simon crouches down, slowly, to spare his knees, and tests the hinges. The wood is rotten in certain places, the hinges old and rusted. Rather than fixing it up it should be replaced entirely. You really better had gotten this place for good money, because this will take more than a bit of elbow grease to repair. He prods at the hinges, tuts, and looks up at you. 

“Ready to fall apart, this one. You said they're all like this?” 

You nod, worry creasing your brow. “I—yes. Well, the kitchen is. The bathroom seems alright. Is it worse than I thought?” 

“Might be. You have anyone look at this?” 

You shake your head. “I'm starting to feel silly about it now, but I was going to look up how to do it myself.” 

Simon straightens. “I'll go get my kit.” 

-

It's not as bad as he feared. Two cabinets need tearing down completely, but the others are worth saving. Simon warns you the repair job will fuck the wood, but you tell him it's no problem; you'll paint over it anyway. 

You feed him tea and ginger snaps while he works, asking him several times if he wouldn't like a break, hasn't he done a lot already? You feel terrible about having him work on his day off. Didn't he say he worked construction? He must be so tired, poor man. You insist he stay for dinner. “You've been so helpful—it's the least I could do.” 

Simon takes a breather to watch you cook. Chicken, pasta, summer salad. The sun sinks lower and hits you straight on from the kitchen window, painting the edges of you a dazed red-gold. An angel's halo. 

“You big on reading, then?” 

You turn down the heat and put a lid over the pan to join him at the table. Simon's eyeing the many books strewn about on top of boxes that say “pans” and “kitchen supplies”. Le Morte D’Arthur. Histories of the Kings of Britain. Beowulf. There's even one that prompts a vague, long-forgotten memory from his school days— The Canterbury Tales.  

“I am. Always have been.” You nod to the books. “I teach at university—medieval literature. But I'm working on my own research on the side.” 

Simon lets out a low whistle. His pretty bird is a clever one. Smarter than him, that's for sure. He might be big and strong but he's got bricks for brains. 

That's what his dad always used to say, anyway—that he's stupid. Those always were his kinder moments. 

“That explains all the books y’got.” 

“There sure are a lot of them, aren't there? I swear moving really makes you realise just how much stuff you own...” You shake your head. “I'll have to get a bigger bookcase.” 

“Think it's impressive.” 

Your eyes crinkle with a smile. “Not as impressive as knowing how to fix my cabinets! I don't know how I would've managed by myself.” You hop up from your seat to check the food, then ask over your shoulder, “Is that something you do a lot for work, too? Carpentry and the like?” 

Simon shakes his head. “We do the heavy lifting. Clearing a place out, laying the foundation. Johnny—my coworker, he's mostly on machinery. Kyle does transport and plumbing. I do the heavier handiwork.” 

You hum and start plating the food while asking him more questions. Is the pay good? Is his boss fair? Are his coworkers nice? 

Price's fairly strict is what he is, Simon answers, and you laugh again. He likes that. Likes that he gets you to do that. 

He wolfs down a plate of his pasta and devours the chicken. It's fragrant, roasted with lemon and thyme, bursts between his teeth. He tells you more about Johnny, that he's a cocky bastard who likes playing with electricity way too much, but that he's also a loyal friend. That he's a hard worker—that all of them are. 

When his plate is empty and he's eyeing what's left in the pans you push them closer without saying anything, and prompt him to tell you about that time a plumbing line exploded and Kyle got soaked from tip to toe in disgusting gunk. He smelt like sewage water for weeks. 

Simon doesn't even realise how much he's talked until his throat starts feeling rougher than usual. You make it easy somehow. If he'd thought you would look down on him because of your own job he needn't have worried. You're not at all like what he imagines when he thinks of professors, none of the stuffy superiority complex he's used to weathering when people find out all he does all day is chafe his fingers on hard cement.  

Maybe you're just good at faking it, but he doubts it. The sparkle in your eyes when you listen to him so intently has to be real. 

You send him home with a warm thanks and dessert, and Simon feels something in his chest lurch when you peer up at him through your lashes in the doorway, smiling and sweet. Can't remember the last time he went out for dates. Can't remember having the time or energy for it. 

And like a dog who's learned a new trick Simon rings your bell the next day. Wasn't happy with how he left it, and wasn't that faucet leaking? He's got plenty of spare wood in his shed, don't you worry. What's that about the boiler making a weird noise? He'll take a look at it, might have something for the draft in the hallway too. 

Pay him? What are you talking about, he does stuff like this for fun. Don't sweat it, love. Just hand him that wrench. 

There are days when it's hard, of course. Simon is only human, and spending days and days on sizzling hard concrete would wring anyone dry. The project is coming along nicely, but at the height of summer there's plenty of times when even the promise of your smile isn't enough to keep him from falling asleep on his couch—often on an empty stomach. 

But during the weekends he rings your bell dutifully. Six o’clock becomes something sacred in his mind, sweet relief after praying on his knees for hours smoothing out cement. It gets to the point where he turns down Friday drinks with the guys more than once because he's got something to go home for now, his pretty little bird that's never once mentioned a boyfriend of any kind. 

“You really should let me pay you.” 

Simon gives you a look before pushing his large shoulders further into the cabinet under the bathroom sink. “Should be the one payin’ you. I know I'm doubling your grocery bill.” 

He eats more at your place than his own these days. It gives him incentive to rush through a shower, dress like something resembling a human, then wait at your doorstep to be let in. Wagging tail and everything. 

Your cheeks darken and you duck your head. “No, um... It makes me happy. To see you eat my cooking, I mean,” you confess a little shyly. “I feel like I'm the one getting everything out of this. I hope I'm not keeping you from—from spending time at home, or with your family.” 

“S’just me, love.” Simon pauses, pretends to inspect the pipes. “Less you don't want me coming ‘round anymore.” 

“No, no,” you say hastily. “No, I like—I like the company. Really.” Your voice softens. “And I'm not just saying that because I appreciate the help.” 

Simon exhales, shifts a little to accommodate the strain in his boxers, and holds his hand out for the screwdriver. 

[fourmoony]

Hi love, I had a request. I’m gonna do pumpkin patch date with Remus lupin x reader and haunted house please.

Love your writing by the way!❤️

thank you for requesting! you're too kind! ♡︎

634 words | cw: mentions of being scared via jumpscare

Remus wouldn't consider himself as old, per se. But with his fragile joints and bones, he definitely feels old, sometimes. Which is why, when Sirius suggested you go as a group to the haunted house in town, his initial response was "I'm too old for that shit".

Sirius had looked at him funny, and James like he'd grown a second head. But you - you'd looked at him like you understood. But there was a little deflation in there, somewhere. You've never been to a proper haunted house. You'd lamented just two minutes prior to Remus' statement how fun it would be. How excited you were. So the guilt washes over him like a cold shower. It's the only reason he eventually agrees. Because, whether he likes it or not, he'd do anything to make you happy.

Though, you don't seem happy right now. You're terrified, body rigid as you cling to Remus' arm like a life line, peeking around corners with the same vigour someone would in a horror movie. He'd had his suspicions this might happen - you can barely watch The Nightmare Before Christmas and you're always talking about how the Grinch makes your flight or fight response kick in.

Sirius and James are well ahead, ever the mischief makers, and are on a mission to scare the actors right back. So Remus doesn't feel ashamed about holding you that little bit tighter. Doesn't get embarrassed about the way he presses his lips to the crown of your head when some sort of zombie jumps out of the wall at you both and you turn right back into his chest with a scream.

He's never felt particularly macho. But right now, he feels like the top dog. He likes that you're turning to him to keep you safe, to calm you.

The exit is just ahead, so Remus knows it's likely something big is going to happen. When the hallway fills with smoke, your hand becomes a vice grip on his wrist. He holds you closer, murmurs that he's got you. Your steps are tiny, hesitant. He follows along, breath bated because every time you jump he tenses, and he's awaiting the tinge in his hip when that happens. Not that he minds. At all.

People jump from the walls, a massive spider falls to the centre of the floor, and you go ramrod straight with a scream. Remus grips you tight, continues to usher you towards the door. You follow, head tucked into his shoulder. Remus feels bitter sweet about reaching the end. He's glad for the noise to stop, but sad to lose the excuse to be close to you.

He pushes the door open, only for James and Sirius to jump at you both from either side. With your guard down, your reaction is worse. James and Sirius dissolve into a puddle of laughter, stumbling off a little to lean on each other whilst wiping tears. You turn completely into Remus, breathing rigid. He wraps his arms around your shoulders and presses his lips to your head.

"They're tossers." He speaks.

You chuckle in his arms, head tilting back to look up at him. You smile warily. "This wasn't my best idea, was it?" You ask, yet to let him go.

Remus' smile widens, "No. Not at all."

James and Sirius yell at you both to hurry up and Remus feels his heart sink. He doesn't have an excuse to do this anymore. But you don't seem to notice that as you turn, tucked under one arm, and continue on towards your troublemaking friends.

You stay close to Remus all night, even without the threat of zombies or vampires jumping out at you. It feels nice. But more than nice, Remus can't help but notice it feels right.

[pullhisteeth]

say it with your hands | eddie munson

okay so please forgive me for writing yet another taylor-based fic (I have another one in the works too lol so consider this one a little fluffy filler for you). blame miss swift for writing criminally good songs.

summary a fluffy, warm (stoned) evening with Eddie. [1.1k]

contains fluff to the extreme. no smut but 18+ anyway. weed, kissing, fem!reader, complete indulgence.

-

put your lips close to mine / as long as they don't touch / out of focus, eye to eye / til the gravity's too much / and I'll do anything you say / if you say it with your hands / and I'd be smart to walk away / but you're quicksand

-

Eddie's room is warm.

Warm is the most obvious thing you're feeling right now. It coats your arms in a thick lick of paint, heat blooming from the bend in your knees and crawling up your back. You're kneeling on the bed with your hands on his shoulders and your head in the clouds. It's all fuzzy, burning a bright wash of light behind your eyes.

Eddie's kneeling, too, his knees bumping yours as they settle on the comforter. His hands are on your waist and for a moment you think, with your eyes closed, about all the fairytales you read as a child, princes and princesses caught in a waltz across the page. Is this what it would have felt like, if a boy had asked you to prom?

This dance you're doing, whatever it is, is sending you both funny, bubbling with giggles and brush stroke kisses across jaws and cheeks.

Well, you like to think it's the dance; maybe it's the weed.

It's a Friday evening, and instead of joining your friends at the sole bar in Hawkins, you'd lingered on Eddie's bed, precisely where you are right now, calling out at him to stay behind with you. We go every week, you'd said. I'm tired, you got that new stuff in. Wanna stay here and get high?

Eddie is many things, but capable of saying no to you is not one of them. He'd hovered in the doorway, on his way out to get his boots, and looked back at you with your wide eyes and stubborn disposition. As soon as he'd taken a step back into the room you'd giggled and flung yourself onto your back, head in his pillows, blabbering pretty things about how much you love him.

Of course, if you were to ask Eddie what his idea of the perfect evening is, it's this: the two of you, alone at home, a little stoned but blissfully happy.

How you got into this position, though - knees to knees, half-standing in a kind of slow dance - you're not sure. Along the way there'd been intoxicated teases of don't you dare kiss me and if you do I'll throw the guitar out of the window, an empty threat but taken by Eddie to be as serious as anything, because where's the fun in denying you?

So he'd indulged it, helped you up onto your knees and put the stub of the joint in the ashtray. Your faces are so close now that you can barely see him, and yet your field of vision is consumed by him. Your world has become a blurry likeness of Eddie's face, his hair a fuzzy brown curtain. And all he can see are your pretty eyes, or at least the the flare of your irises, flitting back and forth as you try your hardest to take him in. He's listening to your giggles, pleasant noises crawling up your throat. Perhaps some of them are his fault - having his hands around your waist is too tempting. He has to make you squeal, it's his job.

The proximity is almost unbearable because you can feel his breath all over your face and god, the temptation to kiss him is so real, like a trapped bird inside your chest, desperate to break free.

"You're getting too close," you whisper, and he feels it, the heat of your words and the brush of your lips on his, and he can't help the sly smile that creeps up on him. "There! I felt that, you're too close-"

You squeeze his shoulder as punishment, earning a yelp from him as he quirks his head to the side and attempts to dodge you, shifting to the left. You're too quick for him, though, doubling down when he moves away. Your giggles have become laughs, swallowed whole by your barks of excitement.

"Shit, fuck you," he gasps as you squeeze. Soon he slips free of your biting hand and ducks, and with a force that knocks you backwards he brings his arms around your waist and pushes you so you're lying back on his bed again. He hovers over you, hair falling in your face, pulling all the giggles he can from you.

He's not sure when it happened, but sometime fairly soon after meeting you, he realised that, maybe, this is all he was ever meant to do. Nothing in the world - no drug, no stage-high - has ever made him feel the way making you laugh does.

"Hey!" you cry, gasping for air as he digs his fingers into your side again, watching with glee as you squirm beneath him. "Eddie, Eds, c'mon- hey!"

He relents, your movement too quick for his heavy brain to process. Instead he collapses on top of you, pushing the air out of your lungs and cutting your laughs off with an umph.

"You," you squeeze out, "are so fucking heavy-"

You make to push him off but he remains. You bear his weight begrudgingly as he noses at your neck, where it meets your shoulder, leaving hot, budding kisses and the odd bruise. He feels you become more uncomfortable so he gives in, relinquishing his right to dote on your bare skin, rolling over to lie beside you.

"Are you gonna stay?" he asks.

You roll over to face him and meet his eyes with yours, finding them wide with want and hesitation.

"I have to," you say with a smile. "If I go home smelling of weed, I'll be out on my ass."

He makes a short, happy sound, a huff of air through his nose. You both know I have to is code for yes, of course I'm going to stay, you're never getting rid of me.

You're lying face to face, a mirror image to the way you were minutes ago, on your knees for one another. His eyes are so close and everything's a bit too dark, but you can see them well enough.

How he held his resolve before he's not sure, because being this close is too much. He dips his head just a bit, enough to meet you with a kiss. It's quick and kind, more than you think you deserve, but you chase him anyway. You move against him, enjoying the familiar feeling of his hands around your back and down your thigh, hiking your leg up over his own.

Panting, you part, heaving heavy breaths and nudging your forehead against his.

"Can we order pizza?" you ask him, voice so quiet he nearly misses it.

"'Course we can," he tells you.

-

[cibeeorsomeshit]

Day Seven: Sun Moon Stars/Magic (Ao3)

Your sort-of boyfriend was going to do his full moon magic shit and he didn’t sound very enthusiastic about it. So you said you would be there to take care of him when he was done. And so you did.

There was a craze in Stolas’ eyes he wasn’t used to during the first time he was allowed — maybe more precisely, allowed himself — to see what Stolas actually needed the book on the full moon for. Blitzø thought it would be like Stolas’ usual works, looking through the giant telescope, mumbling to himself and taking notes. Grinding herbs into paste and straining them through oil, putting this one in glass tubes and that one in brass jars or another one in cast iron pots, before sending them off to different royals for who knew what. Blitzø joked about Stolas being a witch, and Stolas gleefully conjured an accurate witch hat and a not so accurate slutty witch outfit. That was fun and all, but seeing Stolas during his full moon duty made it extremely clear how instead of the witch, Stolas was the kind of demon that witches worshiped for. 

Blitzø never stayed past the set up stage. He never had reasons to. The whole thing took hours at an unholy time and Blitzø wasn’t about to drive his ass home himself when he was dead tired. Now, though, he could slip into Stolas’ bed without feeling like he was a discarded dildo, he could stay as long as he wanted. 

Stolas was hesitant, and told Blitzø not to push himself, please don’t feel like he needed to stay.

“I won’t disturb your weird ritual, don’t worry.” Blitzø curled up on the small (for Goeita’s standard) settee up against the cold stonewall of the astronomy tower. Stolas stood under the oculus that saw the night sky, waiting for the moon to reach the top. 

Stolas raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t think you would.”

“So what’s the deal?”

“I just think you might be more comfortable in our bed, that’s all.”

Our bed. It was a wonder Blitzø didn’t die on the spot with how hard his heart jumped at that. It had been three weeks since it became their bed. Just like the balcony was their spot, and Silkworm was their horse.

“Whatever, I want to be here,” Blitzø said. “I said I was gonna take you back to bed after you're done so I’m gonna.”

Stolas did not mention how rough Blitzø’s voice sounded, but he did walk over to kiss Blitzø’s horns, and then his lips, because they couldn't help it.

“It’s almost time.” Stolas said when they parted. No shit, Blitzø didn’t say, the tinge of mania in Stolas’ eyes and the red glow to his talons said it all. 

“Go do your thing.” Blitzø waved him away like someone would a child refusing school. Stolas seemed to find it amusing, and Blitzø quickly realized why he was gently warned he could leave if he wanted to.

The chalk-written runes and sigils beneath Stolas glowed from the moonlight shining in through the oculus. The grimoire unraveled itself, pages split from the spin with sickening tearing noise, rearranging themselves around Stolas as though he was the eye in a storm. 

Weird, but who was weirded out by these shits anymore? Certainly not Blitzø. No, what made him realize he might be out of his element was when he had to check if his head was still attached to his body, then also checking if his hands were still attached to his arms, because he felt like he was coming apart at the seams too, and he was seeing Stolas from everywhere, the front, the back the sides. A droning silence enveloped the tower. A pulsating void that messed with Blitzø’s brain in the way he would never admit to Stolas later that yeah, he probably should have just fucking gone to bed.

“Satan’s rotting anus,” Blitzø said out loud and yet somehow no noise hit the air even though he could feel his throat muscles move. He burrowed underneath the settee cushions and thought really hard  about the fat joint he was going to need after all of this.

He didn’t know how long it lasted, but he did know the exact moment it ended. Sounds that normally Blitzø never registered (the faint buzzing of city lights, airflow going in and out of gaps in the wall, his own breathing) was all at once alarmingly present. But there was only one sound he cared about: the clicks of talons finally resting on the stone floor, and the slump of a hollow-boned body. 

Blitzø disentangled himself from the cushions and was at Stolas’ side in a second. The whole reason Blitzø insisted on staying was because of this. Because weeks ago Stolas made a throwaway remark about how “dreadful” he always felt after the ritual. “Dreadful” was Stolas-speak for “fucking shit out of whack,” so sue him if Blitzø was feeling too tenderhearted after sleeping without nightmares for weeks straight, and just couldn’t stand the thought of Stolas alone and miserable. 

And Stolas did look miserable, laying there like he wanted to rot into the ground. At least he wasn’t alone. 

“Hey,” Blitzø called. Moving Stolas now would probably cause him to throw up, so their bed would have to wait. Instead he gently placed Stolas’ head on his knees, claws running through head feathers that still crackled with electricity. “Hey, pretty bird.”

Stolas mumbled at the pet name, one in four eyes blinking open slightly. “You’re here.” 

“I said I was gonna stay.”

“I thought it might be too uncomfortable for you.” Stolas was slurring his words like how Blitzø texted.

“You saying I’m weak or some shit?”

Stolas chuckled. “No. Though I suppose I should have known better.” 

“Damn right you should.”

Stolas finally managed to peel open all his eyes, and they immediately focused on Blitzø. The mania was still there, faintly, but pushed to the side by the L-word Stolas somehow knew how to say through gazes alone. 

“It’s so easy.” Stolas said, apropos of nothing.

“What?”

“This has never been easy for me.” Stolas continued. He turned and snuggled into Blitzø’s stomach. “But you’re here, and suddenly it’s easy. Even — fulfilling, like being rewarded after a job well done.”

Blitzø’s movement nearly halted at that. He never made something easy for someone. He never was a reward for a tired lover. If he was scared of love before, he had no idea how much more terrible it would feel to be scared of losing it. 

It was a good feeling. 

Blitzø gathered Stolas in his arms, tucking all of him in like they were already in bed, like how Stolas tucked him in when Blitzø showed up all those full moons ago and slept in what was now their bed for the first time without sex. It was his turn now.

“Let me take you to bed.” Blitzø said. 

And Stolas knew, Blitzø was really saying the L-word.

(Day Five&Six) ←

[hash-driveway]

The Hurt/Comfort Alphabet (Julian x Reader edition)

prompt created by: @thathcwriter

this ended up being a bit more esoteric than the prompt may have intended. these are so fun!

A: Alleviate - How do they go about relieving persistent physical pain?

Julian would offer you a massage if you were feeling sore, since he'd usually notice your demeanor changing when you're in pain. If you suffer from chronic pain, he'd do his best to make sure you were comfortable when he could. He'd roll you joints and smoke with you.

However, if he is the one in pain, the situation is different. He tries his best to be the strong, silent type, but his guard comes down with you. He'd try to ignore it at first, but eventually you'd ask him if he needed to be taken care of, and he'd crack. While he would be hesitant to admit it, he loves it when you take care of him.

B: Bedridden - How do they behave when they’re sick?

Julian tries to push through sickness as much as he can, which ends in him feeling worse and needing to take it easy for a few days. He doesn't mind though, since the two of you can hunker down and watch movies on the couch whenever you please.

C: Cling - Whose physical touch is considered most welcome in their minds when they are in need? Is there a specific type of touch they respond well to?

When he's stressed, a comforting rub on his back from you is all that he needs. When Julian is upset, anxious, or triggered, your warm embrace calms him down. He has abandonment issues because of his father, so he definitely needs your reassurance when he's feeling bad. He'll wrap his big arms around you and squeeze, like he can't get you close enough.

D: Deathbed - How would they react if they realized they may not recover from their injuries?

He's been shot more than he cares for, but there has only been a few times where his injuries were extreme. When it dawned on him that he might be really fucked up from the wound, he panicked. This couldn't be happening, not now, not before he retired and started a family with you. Not before he gave you the life you deserved.

E: Emergency - What is their gut reaction when someone they care about is hurt?

Rage. He'll see red if you're ever hurt by someone, and do anything it takes to protect you. Then, guilt. There must have been something that he could have done to keep this from happening.

F: Fight - Are there circumstances under which they would not accept treatment or care? If so, what are they?

If he spirals into his guilt, it can be hard for him to accept affection or reassurance. This is tricky because he could end up snapping at you. Miscommunication often leads to arguments, but they usually end up being resolved with the two of you promising to be better.

G: Ghosts - How has their past shaped the kind of comfort they respond to best?

Julian's love language is Words of Affirmation, because they are what he never got from his father. He responds best to you reassuring him when he is feeling stressed. He highly values communication.

H: Home - What things (objects, sensations or people) remind them they’re safe after a scary situation?

If he doesn't have either you or a rum and coke in his hand, he could go crazy.

I: Isolation - How do they soothe themselves when no one is around to soothe them?

He needs time alone. The chaos and noise of the trailer park gets to him sometimes, so he'll find an excuse to retreat to his trailer and try to calm himself down.

J: Joy - When was the first time they were truly happy after going through something terrible?

Julian met you after a rough patch of failed schemes and mounting legal trouble, which stressed him to no end. Meeting you on that day was so unexpected, yet so perfect, that he found himself forgetting all of his troubles after seeing you for the first time.

K: Kindness - Do they believe they deserve the comfort they receive? Why or why not?

Not usually. It takes a while for him to get used to you showing him genuine kindness.

L: Levity - What or who helps them take their mind off of the circumstances?

Julian has a self-help book for most situations. He goes to them when he feels uncertain, often looking for answers to questions that he doesn't even know how to ask. The endless digging usually ends up calming him down regardless.

M: Music - Is there a song that comforts them? Why is it comforting to them?

"Hey, ain't life wonderful?" -- I feel like this song would make him feel seen.

N: Nostalgia - What things that comforted them as a kid still work today? Does anyone know that?

It's no secret that his grandmother is who introduced him to the comforts of rum, but sometimes what he really needs is a quiet night with a blanket and a good book.

O: Overworked - Who or what tells them to stop working and take care of themselves?

You're the only person that he will actually listen to when you tell him to take a breather. Whenever anyone else tries to get him to see reason, he brushes them off, thinking that they have no idea what he can (or cannot) handle. You're different, though. He's never allowed himself to be known by anyone on the level that you do.

P: Please - Have they ever begged for someone to comfort or stay with them? What was that incident like?

Not really. He's the type of person to let someone leave if they want to, but there’s no doubt that he’ll fight for you. He'll definitely ask for comfort if he needs it, but only if he feels comfortable enough with the person to do so.

Q: Questions - Are they eager to talk about what or why they’re hurting? Why or why not?

At first, he is hesitant because he is so used to playing the role of the strong one, the protector of the park. But once he allows his walls to come down, he becomes an open book.

R: Relief - How do they react to the realization that they will soon be fully recovered?

I don't want to do this one. so i'm not going to. lol

S: Scared - What would it take for them to admit that they’re scared?

It would take a situation that could shake him to his core in order for him to admit that he's scared. Julian is tough, and can handle a lot, but there are a few things that he can break his composure. He has anxiety about money, of course. Being able to live the life that he wants, to be able to retire and live a peaceful, quiet life in Sunnyvale without having to worry about being locked up ever again. When that goal is threatened, he'll eventually admit his fear.

T: Time - How long does it take for them to feel better after an ordeal or illness? Do they tend to lie about how soon they feel better?

Julian knows how important rest is, especially if he is physically hurt. He'll do as much as he can to take the time to recover, but the needs of the people around him do tend to get in the way sometimes. In that case, he'll lie to avoid people worrying about him.

U: Ugly - What part of their recovery process are they ashamed of, if any?

When he's in pain, he can get snippy and aggravated. He also relies on drinking more than usual during these times, so that can become an issue.

V: Valiant - Has anyone told them they were brave for facing what they did? How would they react if someone did?

No. If you ever told him that, he would most likely brush it off, but it would be emotionally overwhelming for him. Nobody really shows him much appreciation.

W: Why? - How did they process what happened to them?

He journals. It’s his private haven to write down his thoughts without feeling any pressure.

X: Xenas - Do they see anyone as an inspiration in their recovery? Does their inspiration know about this?

His grandmother definitely saved him from his father's wrath. Her headstrong attitude inspires him to be who he is.

Y: Yearn - What gesture, person or thing do they desperately want, but would never actually ask for?

He really, really, really wants to get married. Have a kid or two, and just live a normal life. Be a good dad. He doesn't know how to ask for this. He doesn't think he's good enough for it.

Z: Zero - What is the best way to comfort them without touching them?

Sometimes he just needs you by his side, silently supporting him by simply being present in his life. He values consistency, craves it, since he doesn't see it anywhere else except in his relationship with you.

[cas-skz]

Party Buddies*

Pairing: chan x fem!reader Word Count: 1,269 Genre: partying, smoking, flirting Summary: at a friends birthday/soccer team celebration, you join a spicy game & end the night questioning your once innocent friendship. Warning: 18+ please!!! smoking weed, drinking, partying, making out?, petname - kitten yeshello frined. i haven't written in a very very long time. please be nice. also i did not spell or grammar check lmao feel free to xx

PART TWO PART THREE

“No! No way that is happening!” your voice is slightly slurred, effected by the alcohol you had consumed throughout the night. Unbeknownst to you, your words came out, louder than expected, causing your friend to jump up and cover your mouth with a loud giggle.

Your bestfriend Jaclyn had brought you along to her boyfriends birthday party, something you had gotten used to at this point, because you swear, she couldn’t go anywhere without you and you felt the exact same way. You liked her boyfriend Jisung, and even kind of got along with his soccer team friends, which was how the two of you ended up at yet another team party together. Tonight it was not only Jisung’s birthday but also the teams championship win.

Silly antics and party games had taken over the large rented Air BnB, and you found yourself caught in one of the more inappropriate games taking place on the second floor. “You can’t say no, Y/n! It’s part of the game!” Sex truth or dare, that was and it was just starting to heat up. “There has to be an alternative, like take a shot or something” you plead, cheeks rosey from not only the alcohol but the dare which you had rolled. “Besides—— Where am I even going to get a remote vibrator at this hour? It’s not like there’s any 24/7 sex shops near by.” Yup, you had rolled what was one of the more ‘vanilla’ dares; allow a partner of your choice to control a hands free vibrator for the next few hours.

Your hazy eyes glanced up at the circle that had formed in the large hall way, joints being passed around and shots being downed. This was one of the more fun and interesting parties, typically the parties end by 11 and end with you, Jaclyn and Jisung drunkly cleaning before he calls an Uber for you, ensuring you get home safely. Filling the hallway was a handful of members of the soccer team, a couple of girls from a frat down the street and a few others that Jaclyn had invited from class. By now your turn had gone to the back of everyone’s mind, and the game had already turned into a pairing off make out session. Good, your clue to escape. Quickly bringing yourself to your feet, the loud music of downstairs was starting to tone down, setting a more relaxing mood over the home. “Hey! I’m calling taxi’s and fucking Ubers, just chill for a bit man, I’ll get you home!” Jisung was so loud when he was drinking, but he always made sure everyone was safe. You shook your head with a laugh, stabling your self before turning and basically hitting a wall - or a strong male chest actually.

“Easy there shortie, don’t need you falling down again” his thick Australia accent canceled out the rest of the noise immediately and your eyes glanced up at the taller, browned haired boy. Chan was the teams goalie and one of the guys you actually got along with, and usually the one who would babysit you if you got to drunk for Jaclyn to handle. Your hand easily slaps his chest, a light laugh slipping through your lips. “One time, one time that happened and you never let me live it down.” Which was true, you had fallen drunkly on ice during one of your first encounters with Chan. “Hey, I told you before, I’ll carry your heels and make sure you’re home, but I am not holding your hair while you puke” he teased, gently tugging your wrist to follow him.

“Oi! Bin! Have a good night mate! Text me when you get home ya?” Chan yelled from the balcony you two had hidden out on while the party died down. “Ah- he’s got someone with him..” chan trailed, backing into the chair he had risen from, handing you the joint that was being shared. “Probably got gonna hear from him” he chuckled, grabbing another pre roll and taking his time to light it as you finish the first. This was typically how the two of you finished the night off, after finding out your similar love for getting high before passing out. The next half an hour was silent, the noise of cars coming, going and countless ‘goodbyes and I love yous’ all while you and Chan started at the night sky, littered with bright stars.

“Do you believe in aliens?” Chan randomly mumbles out, his red eyes glossed meeting yours. Giggles erupted, not completely realizing how effect you were by the weed. “Well-“ you start, sliding yourself up in the chair, repositioning yourself in the blanket you had grabbed on the way out. “There was this one time when I was a kid, I fucking swore I saw a bright light in the sky outside my window. I ran to my brothers room to show up, but by the time we made it back to my room, it was gone. Andrew just told me I was dreaming and went off to bed, but I swear I saw it! I swear!” Your laugh, throwing your head back as your eyes return to the sky. “There’s so much out there, we don’t even know the half of it. The world, space. It’s all crazy.” Before you realize it, you’ve gone into one of your stoned, no filter rants. Minutes had passed by before your head fell down and eyes locked with Chans. He had phone his in his hand, screen lit and by the expression on his face, you knew something was up.

To your surprise, Chan makes no effort to hide his phone and chooses to explain why he was searching for sex stores near by. “Listen, I was curious” he starts, running his hand through his hair, adjusting forward and setting his phone on the table causing a slight illumination to his face. “What are you even talking about?” You questioned. Yes you had in fact forgotten all about the riské game the two of you had been playing earlier in the evening. Now your eyes were locked on his screen, and he was roaring up a storm across from you. “You’re cute” he breathed, slowly catching his breath. There hadn’t been any hints of flirting since your friendship had begun, in fact Chan was one of the most gentleman like guys you had ever met but now you questioned this new side of him. Without noticing, he had inched closer across the small table, moving a piece of your hair from your face to gently brush it behind your ear. “Don’t you think it could be fun?” He asked, voice low and slow. His hand worked it’s way to your chin, pulling your body in his direction and locking eyes.

Shit. Shit. You were flushed red, not even able to catch a breathe before he leans forward, placing the most gently kiss upon the edge of your lips, “Don’t you think it would be fun to be my little play toy?” His words and quiet, but start screaming repeatedly in your head. What the fuck. Before you can even reply, he swiftly stands to his feet, adjusting his quite obvious bulge in his pants. “You let me know kitten. You have my number” chan smirked down at you, gently patting your head before taking off back into the house. Usually you would be swatting his hand away or flipping him off, but now he has you stunned, sitting with a world win of wild thoughts in your head.

TAG UR ON IT

@littleforeignaffairs

[twst-drabbles]

Antas and Valenio 1

Summary: You set off into the woods simply for the fun traveling. Valenio follows because he wants to pick a specific flower for his upcoming opera performance. And Antas tags along presumably for the sake of keeping you company.

(Ah, been a while since I've looked at my creations! Have at them and give them plenty of compliments please.)

It wasn’t really something you planned, this hiking trip.

“So,” you jumped over a big root only to have your pants snag on a branch, “woah!”

Luckily, Valenio caught you by the shoulder, though the strength in his hand made your joint creak a bit. He helped you down on the other side, muttering a deep, “Careful.”

“I told you that you should’ve gotten some hiking boots,” tutted Antas as he floated right over your head, facing towards the foliage covered sky with his arms behind his head, as though in a private pool, “Little humans with their little ground bound selves are going to trip over nature’s biological chaos.”

It’s odd to you, really, to see him wear the face of Crowley and yet none of his usual clothing. It was a simple ruffle front shirt with the dark pants of his uniform and thigh high boots. Barely any of his usual effort, as though this really was just relaxing at home.

Meanwhile you and Valenio were pretty much sweating through your clothes. Well, more Valenio than you. It seems he’s still not used to the warmer temperatures of the surface world, especially compared to the deep sea.

“Yeah yeah, I hear you,” you waved, dismissing him as you check the damage on your pants. Nothing wrong, just a loose thread. Yes, it was dumb of you to travel this far into the woods but to fair, you were going in a straight line. And Valenio’s with you so it’s not as if you’re alone. “Anyways, Valenio, mind telling me more about the flower you’re looking for?”

“Rude,” Antas scoffed, but you can hear the amusement in his voice and feel his carapace hands patting your head. You didn’t stop him and kept walking.

Valenio hummed and reached into his bag. He pulled out a worn journal with an odd bone pen sticking out from the pages. “It’s called the Lucretia’s Wine Glass. Named not for its peculiar shape that gathers its nectar in, but after a winemaker woman that shared a glass of her most precious wine with her lover. Supposedly the drops spilled gave birth to this flower.”

“Oh my, how romantic,” Antas flipped in the air, now on his stomach, his legs swinging about as he propped up his chin, “And familiar. Isn’t that story the subject of your next performance, dear Valenio?”

“Oh so that’s the theme,” Valenio didn’t really tell you much beyond the date, “how cute. Why didn’t you tell me?”

Valenio coughed into his hand, “It’s… overly sentimental. And… I didn’t want to give a wrong impression.”

“There’s nothing wrong with choosing a romantic opera piece, though,” you said with a light touch of laughter.

Antas flew down and whispered, “he likely thought you wouldn’t like it. Tell me, how many students in this college would be willing to sit down and listen to something as overly sappy as The Winemaker’s Glass Gift?”

Not many. Not many at all.

“Don’t whisper as though I can’t hear you. Even with all the noise, I’ve learned to distinguish them just fine.” Valenio sighed out as he slide down a rock structure.

“Whoops, sorry.”

“So,” you gestured in front of you, “why the flower hunt?”

“Because…” Valenio paused and you stopped as well. Poor man had a hand pressed against the tree. He reached into his bag, pulled out a flask and poured its contents all over his head, “That’s better. Because, the story is about love, dedication, and devotion. It’s a beautiful piece, and I feel it would bring me closer to this song if I had this flower to perform with.”

Well then, no wonder so many Pomefiore students both admire him, despite this barely concealed fear.

“Well, I hope you find that flower then,” you looked up, “though, what about you? Why are you here?”

An aura of glittering butterfly scales lapsed into view, rendering the woods still for just a moment before the winds brushed past you all once more. Antas was smiling, as one would towards a threat that had no chance of touching them.

“Think of me as your invitation, Prefect, Valenio,” finally, as though tired of being in the air, Antas let his heel click on a stone protrusion, “Can’t very well have those close me be stolen away because they forgot that woods aren’t ever truly untouched.”

…you know what, that’s on you for forgetting that faeries exist in just about every part of the world. You really should curb your habit of just wandering into places. It’ll probably get you killed one day.

[distressednoise]

WIP ask meme

I got tagged in this by sweet summer child @notasapleasure, who has not yet realised that rather than ever "finishing" "fic" I just endlessly rearrange outlines in gdocs and resent myself.

Most of the things I laughingly call WIPs are about a hockey pairing that peaked ten years ago, because I am current and cool and fun, BUT let's say these the two (brassian in the balerics, 197 cabin fic) are real and will be written haha

I am bad at tagging but if you have read any of this please consider yourself tagged! I am ALWAYS down to have a sneak peek of a WIP and do some cheerleading, and also to explain the fics I will not write at great length, so feel free to comment, ask, etc etc etc

Veo Veo (aka the Brassian Magaluf AU, because Cassian is a terrible tourist in every timeline)

So this is a scene from after we meet Cinta and Vel, who are having a far more functional holiday romance than Cassian could ever conscience, and I will probably ditch this version of it for one with different geography and fewer references to masturbating over the queen.

Rich people don’t have any fucking manners, Brasso thinks, as the noises from the bedroom pick up. Or any fucking fears. Vel and Cinta are in there having sex, in front of each and every one of Pegla’s nan’s crocheted donkeys, even the French one whose eyes follow you round the room.

“Are they having sex?” Cassian asks. “They’re having sex.” He’s skinning up, compressing the last of Vel’s weed into one of his tight, neat little joints. 

“Bit rude.”

Cassian shrugs, lights, inhales, exhales on a laugh when one of the girls swears. “At least they’re paying the tax,” he points out, taking another hit and then handing the joint over to Brasso. Cassian’s fingers are blunt and thick and bitten-nailed and have no business producing the kind of neurotically compacted, weirdly uniform joints he always rolls. They look too small for his hands. They look lost in Brasso’s, who finds himself holding the joint with slow, exaggerated carefulness and thinking maybe he’s smoked enough already.  But then there’s a high, thin noise from the other room, and perhaps he hasn’t.

He inhales and lets himself slide down to the floor, eyes closed, and tries to astral project into a universe where he regularly said things like no Cassian and that’s not my problem Cassian, rather than this one, where he has to say - 

“If you’re wanking when I open my eyes I will punch you.”

“No you won’t.”

“It’s grim, Cass.”

“They started it! If we’re all having sex - ”

“We're clearly not.”

“And whose fault is that?”

"The one who said we should talk to the lesbians, probably." Brasso doesn't let himself think about Cassian's reaction to that bit of news, the way he'd leant heavily back into their booth, somehow managed to find his way under Brasso's arm. It didn't mean anything. “You can’t rub one out behind the door like some kind of grubby -”

“I’m not anywhere near the door.” Cassian kicks at his ankle, hooks a leg over Brasso’s. He’s made it to the floor too, then. “I can’t even see it.” Shuffling, clinking. Not the sounds of a man not preparing help himself out. “All I’ve got is you and the queen.”

“As long as you come on the right one,” Brasso mutters. Things next door have really hit their stride, if the knocking is anything to go by. “This is grim.”

“Queen’s loving it.” Brasso cracks open one eye to reassure himself that the china plate with the queen’s face on it remains a safe distance away and instead sees Cassian, hand on his dick and eyes firmly on. Well. The only other person there.

the amount of work is the same (aka the endless Brent Seabrook/Jonathan Toews/Jonathan Toews' collection of chronic illnesses fic)

This would probably be the opening, if I ever actually finished anything!

The summer he was 21, Jonny spent most of his time feeling sickly and tired, drooping miserably along his friends’ lakeside properties and fidgeting his way around the decks of their newly tricked-out fishing boats, too wired to sit still and too tired to sleep, until Seabs had eventually snapped and railed him into unconsciousness during an otherwise disappointing fishing trip on Lake Comox. 

The thing with Seabs had turned out to be a bright spot in a confusingly miserable year; one during which he was handed everything he’d ever wanted and while somehow feeling the worst he’d ever felt.

It was shocking, really, how little things had changed. 

He owned the boat now, he supposed. They were on a different lake. But Seabs was still an excellent fuck and Jonny’s body was still a traitorous sack of shit, and -

He felt the sharp red sting of the slap before he even registered that Seabs had moved. 

“I’m not doing this on my own, Jonny,” Seabs said, squeezing almost painfully at Jonny’s dick. “Get your fucking head in the game.” 

So Jonny blinked his eyes open, focused on Seabs’ face, inches from his and so intent he looked furious, and let Seabs hook two fingers into his mouth and jerk his chin down so he could see between them to where Seabs’ hand was wrapped around both their cocks. 

“Wander off again and you’ll regret it,” Seabs told him, and Jonny, stuck between the promise of feeling anything and the horror of letting yet another person down, bit down on Seabs’ fingers and came. 

That still worked, at least.

[kittywildegrrl]

MAMACAT AND THE FINE FINE VERY FINE TRIP TO ATLANTA

Here I sit, ensconced in CatCora’s Kitchen on Concourse A, two hours till boarding, Bloody Mary Pre-Flight Tranquilizer Beverage in place, and lunch yet to come. They’re rocking excellent tunes up in here. I was singing along earlier to “What’s So Funny (‘Bout Peace Love and Understanding”) earlier, because really, what is so funny about it?

This great big huge amazing airport is absolutely thronged on this Monday afternoon.  There are the usual vacationers, reluctant-looking business travelers, folks like me returning from conventions, and myriads who were stranded due to the crazy weather the last couple of days. This joint is jumpin’. And for this little wanderer, the noises & voices of all those people and the high energy make everything just right. Travel is Life!! Danny Rojas!!

Yes, fellow Ted Lasso fans, as usual, I am simultaneously excited about the trip and concerned about my carbon footprint. Well whaddaya gonna do… OK, I’ll tell you later about one thing. Right now I want to wear the #HattitudeOfGratitude for a minute.

MamaCat is wearing the #HattitudeOfGratitude for the past five days and all the adventures. This was one of the best trips ever. It was my second VOAtlanta, and this time, NO FOOD POISONING! Also, this time, more people that I knew! Plus more fun! And that may seem counterintuitive to you, that I should raise the banner of fun over what is essentially a business convention. But only if you’re not a member of the voiceover community. The Businessier we get, the Funner we are. And yes, we all know those aren’t real words.

A year ago, I decided to just go see what this here VOAtlanta thingy was all about and what had happened to Voiceover Itself in the years since I was focused on it. Well, a LOT, I found out! And the Audio Monster in my soul was well pleased. Everything I had missed about radio broadcasting, daily production, funny smart humans, the madnesses of commercial copy; had all evolved while I was off doing theatre and being in a couple of films and whatnot. I was so pulled into all of it. Even when I wasn’t feeling all that hot, I had gained so much from it that I did the only thing I could possibly do: I went home and started for real creating that basement production room I had wanted to build since Analog days.

And I don’t know how the other old people feel about things, but I for one am super glad that we’ve time-traveled into the age of the internet. Because that’s when this got insane. When the pandemic shut us away from one another, and everybody was getting into jigsaw puzzles, genealogy, and Zoom calls, the professional voiceover industry went online too.

WE INTERRUPT THIS BLOG POST FOR THE FOLLOWING IMPORTANT ANNOUNCEMENT: When at Hartsfield Jackson, it’s all about the Grilled Avocado Salad with Shrimp at CatCora’s Kitchen, gate A-25. DO it! You’ll thank me later.

And now, back to our regularly-scheduled MamaCat blog, already in progress…

So now it’s totally a cult. That’s the punchline. Voiceover is a cult. ONE OF US ONE OF US ONE OF US.

No, silly, it’s an industry, and one with high professional standards. My #HattitudeOfGratitude is on, and it's looking tall ‘n’ flashy, cats and kittens, because apparently the industry will let me play too. SO grateful. This was one of those trips where something immensely personal went immensely wrong right before I had to leave, and so instead of sailing out the door with confidence and swagger, there was big sorrow. I’d meant to be off and free as a bird and ready to give, but instead I was more defeated and needy. It was a bit of a rough go. But nothing would have been solved by staying, there were a lot of non-malleable trip details in place, and so to Atlanta, me little droogies!

So if last year was about trying to get some good out of a weekend plagued with intestinal sadness, this year was about showing up when Life Itself has taken a bite out of your resilience and you aren’t certain that you can. In fact, it may wind up being a story in a presentation I find myself working on. I stood up Saturday in an “X-Session” and announced (when it was my turn to intro myself), “I am a disruptive influence and a complete fraud! I have literally failed at everything!” and that’s the moment I realized that among my other weirdass karma, it falls to me to be an example of re-invention and revival. My good old friend, the Phoenix bird, serves me well here.

As it was, I was far more needy these past few days than I had originally anticipated. Emotionally close to the surface. A wee bit less steady-on than one likes to be. And there they were. The hugs, and the huggers. And the waffles.

No, I did not eat delicious waffles on this trip, even though there was a Waffle House full of 'em between my hotel and the conference location. Waffles are sometimes people.  There’s the most wonderful Clubhouse on the ap, called “The Working VO Actor,” filled with some of the brightest pros in the industry, and while I am not certain that the Origin Story of how waffles and voiceover came to be associated one with the other will ever be fully known to humankind, I can nevertheless confirm that such a relationship, the people, the waffles, and the hugs all do, in fact, Exist. Can confirm. And they were among the many who fed me, the hungriest bee, all weekend long.

Oh, I also accomplished the basics: meet people, get to know folks, nourish existing relationships, start new ones, attend exhaustingly brilliant classes and panels, and get to the head-is-spinning stage. But mainly, what I experienced was Love. Everywhere I turned, there was someone to hug, someone who wanted to listen, someone who wanted me to listen to them; there was family.

Don’t get MamaCat wrong; I actually did industry things. I laughed and made others laugh. Food and drink and music occurred. But wow. That Love thing. The ability to call strangers “family” and have it be believed and honored. Yikes, cats & kittens. Not every industry is gonna give ya that.

Geeeez, the flight is SO delayed. But that salad was heaven and the drinky is almost finished.

Meow, darlings.

😉🎧🎙️🍸😎😸

[zannadu]

Now nobody asked for this but I’m going to do it anyway.

Includes: Katsuki Bakugou, Eijiro Kirishima, Denki Kaminari, Hanta Sero, and Mina Ashido

Warnings: fluff, mentions of sex, mentions of oral sex, kissing, and just dumb funny shit

MHA as Stoners

Katsuki Bakugou

It varies how fast he gets high, but his favorite way to smoke is with a simple joint

Okay this man will refuse to do any at first

But eventually will give in after the rest of the Bakusquad convinces him

(Though he will say “whatever I’ll do it”)

After the first smoke sesh with the squad he began to enjoy it more so he now does it more often.

If you are with him, he will either have a hard time being around her or will want to be next to you the whole time.

If you hold him he will act nonchalant but inside he will be exploding (no pun intended)

He will do his best to cuddle without making you uncomfortable.

He will get the munchies bad and insist you come with him to get more snacks every thirty minutes

He is much more open with his feelings and willing to talk more without yelling

He calms down a lot

He will show much more affection to you around people than he normally does.

Cuddling, kissing, squeezing, biting the whole PDA shabang.

He will not give two shits what everyone else thinks.

And when he finally has you alone, that’s when it gets a little hot and heavy. 👀

And he doesn’t even mean to.

Not that you’re complaining. ✌️

—————————————

Katsuki’s hands snaked their way around your waist and his face found a home in the crook of your neck.

“You know, if you want to cuddle, you could just say so,” you stated, resting your hand on his locked arms. He let out a soft groan against your skin. His breathing was slow and his eyes foggy. He squeezed you tighter and moved his hands to intertwine them with yours. His heavy eyes looked up and around the room meeting with everyone else’s eyes.

“You're touchy tonight,” Sero snickered, taking another hit off the joint that currently sat, squished in between his fingers.

Katsuki did nothing but roll his eyes and squeezed your fingers. He placed his mouth closer to your ear, his breath just tickling your ear lobe. Suddenly his teeth began to nibble on your ear, sending shivers down your arms, evident with the goosebumps now arise on your delicate skin.

“What do you say that we go to my room, I want you, ” his voice was low and husky. His fingers released from yours and fiddled the hem of your clothing and caressed your soft skin. His teeth began to but harder, causing you to gasp. He then continued to nibble slowly moving to your neck. How could you say no?

Eijiro Kirishima

It doesn't take very much to get him high so his favorite way to smoke is with a dab pen

Now usually this baby boy is sweet and manly

But when he's been smoking he gets VERY hungry

Like he will eat the entire kitchen.

He will space out a lot but will still listen to you if you're trying to talk to him

(or he will try to)

“Wait, what did you say?”

He isn't afraid of PDA either however he will wait till he's in private with you.

(as he should, he's respectful)

You might need to help him to his room

And try not to let him hug you until you're in bed because he will NOT let go until morning.

He is very sentimental and will give the BEST advice

“Babe, will you come to get food with me please🥺?”

“Kiri, you have a whole pint of ice cream, three bags of chips, AND meat buns. You don't need anything else😂”

He would pout omg.

He would fall asleep if you play with his hair in an instant

—————————————

Kirishima laid in your lap, and you picked up each piece of his hair and gently let it fall. He had showered and decided on no gel, therefore his hair is silky soft.

“Babe, why did you let me eat so much?” he groaned looking up at you. All you could do was laugh, being high just made everything funnier. He began to pout which ceased your laughter.

“I tried to stop you, but you wouldn't listen, ” you almost began to laugh again. He groaned and held his stomach.

“Next time, don't let me eat so much, ” he squeezed his eyes so much. You continued playing with his hair and smiled at the tired boy.

His eyes began to close and he looked up at you and soon he was out cold.

Denki Kaminari

His favorite way to smoke it with a pipe. Just makes him feel cool and the glass is trippy

Denki is usually very goofy and doesn't take things seriously, but when he's high he gets very philosophical

Like this man will talk about how space is so big and how a fish finds its way home.

Anything that will make you question your existence

He won't even realize what he's talking about until he looks at the rest of the group who is just starting wide-eyed and thinking about their whole existence on earth.

For some reason, he seems smarter than he lets people believe.

If he's with you he will be resting his head in your lap

He will have deep conversations sigh you

He will unknowingly rub small circles on your thighs while he's lost in thought💕

Continues to pick on Bakugou and how he's much different stoned

Usually wants alone time with you afterward, he feels safer when you sleep with him

He likes to be the little spoon

—————————————

Denki sat on the bed and leaned against the wall. His eyes studied the ceiling, his mouth slightly agape in a soft smile as he got even more lost in his thoughts. His eyes were almost entirely closed. The hushed murders from the other teens seemed to entirely disappear. The soft music that was also playing just took his mind further into the abyss.

“Hey do you guys think it's crazy that one muscle in your body is the reason you are alive, and if it just decides to quit one day you will just topple over and die?” Denki continued to stare up at the ceiling. The entire room went silent, the only noise was the light music.

“Dude what the fuck, ” sero looked at home from down on the floor. Denki shifted his head to look at the rest of the gang who were all just staring at him.

“What, I'm just saying, ” he shrugged his shoulders. You just looked at him and laughed. That was the most random thing to say and he probably would do it again soon.

“C’mon baby let's get you to bed, ” you grabbed his hand and went out of the room making sure to say goodnight to everyone. One thing was for sure, Denki could not WAIT to be cuddled.

Sero Hanta

This man's the og stoner and will hit a bong over everything else.

When Sero is stoned he makes sure everyone else is having fun

He makes sure everyone is comfortable with what they are doing

If someone doesn't know how to do something, like hit a bong, he will gladly show them

He is a weed mom

The best kind of mom honestly

If someone is paranoid or worried about an adult finding out or getting in trouble, he will try his darn hardest to calm them down

Has the necessities

Carries gum, eye drops, perfume or cologne on him at all times.

Has a pipe on him always

Provides the goods 🌿

Now let me tell you, this man gets HELLA horny when he's stoned

If everyone is settled in and comfortable he will turn his attention to you.

He doesn't even hide it.

“Mi amor, you look beautiful right now”

He will make you so flustered you will have to leave the room.

—————————————

“Sero, what are you doing?” you ask as me scoots over to you across the floor. You can't help but laugh. The cheesy grin on his face was everything at the moment. It seemed like you were the only two in the room.

“Just coming over to check on you, mi amor, ”he purred as he placed his finger under your chin to make you look into his eyes. His eyelids were heavy, the red tint covered by a foggy gloss, just made him that much hotter. He blinked slowly and began to inch closer to your lips.

“Sero, ” you breathed out right before gently placed his lips on yours, moving to pull your body impossibly closer to his. His lips worked over yours as you found your rhythm. He pulled away looking up at your eyes from your lips.

He leaned forward again, this time next to your ear so no one else could hear but you.

“I can't wait till everyone leaves so I can finally find out how good you taste.”

Mina Ashido

This girl's favorite way to smoke is a simple joint

She is great at rolling

(cuz she's good with her fingers if you know what I mean)

She is definitely in charge of the music and the vibes it puts off

But will also try and get everyone to go out and do stuff like getting food or to annoy Aizawa.

She also is the person laughing the most

She will laugh at literally anything

Kirishima making jokes about food or how hungry he is, Denki just acting dumb, or getting a rise outta Bakugou, whatever it is she will be laughing

This girl is part of the alphabet mafia and you can't change my mind🏳️‍🌈

Now she's is a cutie when it comes to relationships

She won't act inappropriately in front of everyone else out of respect for you

However, when she gets you alone that's a whole other story

—————————————

“C’mon y/n, let's go to my room. I have something to show you, ” Mina smirked at you and squeezed your hand in hers. You had no other choice to follow her as you were already headed out of Sero’s room and straight to her room. You didn't even get a chance to say goodbye to everyone.

You finally made it to her room and she closed the door behind you.

“What did you want to show me?” you asked sitting on her bed. You look around the very pink room and back to her standing in front of you. Mina looked you up and down and reached out to grab your cheeks gently with her hands. She leaned down and kissed you gently, working for her hands down to the hem of your shirt, eager to get it off. Her eyes glazed over and watched your every movement as you striped your clothes. Her fingers grazed over the sides of your arms and you went back in for a kiss. She pushed you farther back onto the bed, straddling her legs around your waist.

“This is going to be fun, ” she said breathlessly and pulled you in yet again for another lustful kiss.

Asks are open!!! This is my first official post on here, advice would be fantastic, or if you have any ideas that would be awesome! Thank you for reading😁❤️

[smellsfaintlyofvanilla]

SPOILERS! SORRY i wanna request another annie x reader, this includes spoilers like season 4 episode 8, and when annie comes out of her crystal in the manga so feel free to ignore! basically, reader was in sasha’s place and ended up dying when gabi shot her. after annie comes out of her crystal, the scouts explain to her what happened to reader. when annie and the scouts see gabi again, annie has a breakdown and screams at gabi how much reader meant to her? <3 tysm!!

You guys are sending me on an Annie brainrot, I’m not even kidding...

Also, the part where Annie comes out of the crystal hasn’t been animated yet (I already knew it happened cause of spoilers don’t worry), so I kinda just looked it up really quickly, so it might not be super accurate but ya know.

ALSO I LISTENED TO “I love you” BY BILLIE EILISH WHILE WRITING THIS AND IT HONESTLY ADDS TO THE MOOD SO MUCH BUT IT’S MAKING ME SAD

Tragedies of War

(Annie Leonhart x Reader)

AU: Canon (Somewhat non-compliant)

Warnings: Slight violence, season 4 spoilers

Category: Angst

Summary: After coming out of the crystal, Annie searches for her s/o, and when she receives news of your passing, she searches for the one who ended their life in order to get closure.

Words: 5.0K

The sun shined harshly onto the parched dirt below your feet, and a swift pivot of your foot kicked a small cloud of dust into the space that surrounded your legs. You had dodged Annie’s punch flawlessly, and you held your hands up to your head defensively, just as she had taught you.

For a moment, a smile graced her lips. She was proud of how quickly you were catching up to her technique. She had taken up the task of teaching you basic martial arts and hand-to-hand combat after you expressed your dismay at being so inept at it.

Her fists raised to her face once again, signifying her readiness to continue.

You slowly approached her, preparing to land a strong hit, and hoping to get the upper hand against the experienced blonde girl.

Once you were in range, she swung her right fist swiftly towards your face, but a quick shift of your head to the right managed to have her arm swing right into the air above your shoulder. You acted quickly, not giving her the chance to recoil her arm or regain her stance, and delivered a harsh uppercut to the underside of her jaw with your idle right hand.

She stumbled backwards in a mixture of shock and slight pain. She had to admit, the late night training the two of you had been partaking in for the past few weeks was starting to pay off. Your uppercut was stronger than it had ever been, and a dull aching pain spread rapidly through her whole jaw, rocking her usually tense form ever so slightly. She brought her left hand up to rub her jaw, trying to sooth the pain as she winced.

“Impressive.” She muttered through her clenched teeth. Outwardly, she seemed annoyed, but inside, she was pleased at your performance. “You’re improving Y/n. Sooner or later, I might have to start to actually try against you.”

You chuckled nervously, reminded of how many levels above you Annie was. Still, a spur of confidence surged through you at the successful hit, and you raised your hands once again. You let out a satisfied huff.

“Well then, let’s see it!” You smiled confidently, high off of the delusion that you could possibly beat Annie’s master level combat skills.

You charged at her more recklessly this time, and reused your previous uppercut in attempt to catch her off guard once again. In response, she arched her back, tilting her head away from your fist effortlessly. Before you even had the time to acknowledge that you had missed, her left hand struck your stomach fiercely, and as you buckled over in pain, she placed her hands on the back of your head, and drove your face to her kneecap unrestrained.

You sunk down into a heap onto the dirt, clutching at your stomach in pain. You coughed dryly, trying to regain the breath that had just been knocked out of your chest oh so mercifully.

“O-Owww... That was... A little rough, Annie...” You choked out between pants.

“Well, you seemed confident. I needed to knock you down a peg.” She stared at you, unamused.

She waited a moment for you to stand up so the two of you could resume training, but you stayed hunched over on the dirt as crimson started to drip slowly from your nose. The small whimper of pain that left your lips ignited a twinge of sympathy in the girl, and she knelt down next to you to grab your hands and cautiously lift you up.

Her attention shifted to the blood that leaked from your nose, and she averted her eyes. It was training, you were bound to get hurt no matter what, but that didn’t stop her from feeling guilty over your minor injury.

She walked over to the small pile of towels she had set aside, originally there in case one or both of you got too sweaty and needed a break. She picked up one from the top of the pile and brought it to your nose to try and prevent the blood from leaving stains on your clothes. After all, you only had so many shirts, and they were seldom washed to remove stains.

“Maybe I was a little rough there... sorry...” She murmured, embarrassed at how soft the whole situation was making her feel.

An adorable giggle left your lips, and Annie looked at you in confusion. What is she laughing about? What’s so funny?

Her look of confusion didn’t help you keep your composure, as you started full blown laughing.

“Y/n??” Annie asked, accidentally bringing the towel away from your face. “What it is??”

Your laughter died down, and after letting out one final chuckle, you spoke up. “You’re just really cute, especially when you’re worried.”

She blushed at that, still not used to the verbal affection that you were so fond of giving her.

Flustered, she tilted her head down to rest her head longingly on your shoulder. You grinned once again as you felt a gentle smile curve upwards on her lips.

“Take it back...” Her voice faltered. She was deeply conflicted between accepting the compliment or insisting that she wasn’t cute.

You only chuckled once again. Her inability to think of anything to do in response to affection was even cuter.

You grabbed her wrist, and brought it up to your face. You started gently and endearingly ghosting kisses along her skin, starting at the wrist and moving wordlessly up her arm. You stopped for a moment though, just to hug her arm into your chest lovingly.

“I love you Annie...”

“...”

“I love you too...”

*CRASH*

Cold. That’s all it felt like. Cold.

Something was... wrong... very wrong... but she couldn’t place her finger on what.

Her eyes peeled open slowly, and the first coherent thought she would have after four years started to form in her mind.

Oh... I’m on the floor...

She sat up slowly, her tense joints and muscles refusing to give her an easy time of it. Once she stood up on her unsteady, almost shaky legs, she stretched, surveying the room around her.

Small fragments of icy crystalline shards lay scattered at her feet. It took one bewildered look behind her for her scatterbrained mind to form together an understanding of what was going on.

I... I’m free from the crystal...? Why?

She glanced around, confused and desperate for any indication of why she was free. There were no MPs in the room, nor any scouts or Marleyan soldiers. Clearly, no one was intentionally trying to set her free.

After assessing the situation to ease her mind a little, she shuffled backwards and slid down the wall, taking a deep, full breath for the first time in years. The air felt great, she had to admit, and being able to move once again was certainly freeing. She hugged her knees to her chest and rested her head in her arms tranquilly. She loved feeling free once again, but she felt her heart tug, as it was yearning for something... or someone.

Her head perked up abruptly, a memory flashing through her brain. She was training with you... her girlfriend.

It had been four years since she’d seen you... she wondered what you would look like now. Had you been having fun with everyone? Did you find out the truth and escape the walls?

An anxious thought ruthlessly tore it’s way through Annie’s brain. Did something happen to you? Did you take your final breaths cold and alone while she slept like a baby in the stupid crystal? Were you devoured by a titan that her own nation sent to kill you? Did you... die hating her?

She stood up abruptly, swinging her leg back and kicking a shard of crystal across the room and letting out a huff through her clenched. Surely not. She’s an extremely strong soldier. I know her better than anyone else would. Nothing could have happened to her...

But, still, a seed of worry had already planted itself in her stomach. Still, she just had to see you again. Not only did she need to make sure that you were unharmed by this senselessness, but just to see you once more. She couldn’t care less what become of her, especially now that she had escaped. She wanted to treasure one more conversation with her lover, and to hold you and whisper sweet nothings to you. God, she was missing those little things so bad right now.

Her mind shifted to the first step towards seeing you- getting out of this shitty dungeon. The wooden door was unlocked and unguarded, at least from this side. She took quiet, strategic steps towards the door, and creaked open the door gently, as to not alert anyone outside of her presence.

A lone guard stood with their back turned to the door. One look at the short and wavy cream colored locks and she was easily identified as Hitch, her old MP roommate.

She made a quick dash, stopping behind the unaware girl and placing one hand over her mouth to prevent her from making any noise, and the other arm was wrapped tightly over Hitch’s neck. She felt the girl tense up considerably out fear in her grasp.

“Take me to the Scouts.”

---

Within the day, she had arrived at the current residence of Scouts. She had convinced some of the higher up MPs to let her see them, with much pleading of course, and on the promise that she would do absolutely no harm, and she would be under MP supervision the whole time.

She walked along the worn dirt path quickly, an MP standing to either side of her, holding both of her arms as to prevent any chance of Annie attacking. She stepped right in front of the door, and her heart filled with both excitement and anxiousness as she thought about her lover, who was most likely waiting on the other side.

An MP dully knocked on the door, and a disgruntled Levi answered.

“Military Police? What are you doing here?” He asked, unamused at the sudden presence of guests.

Peering over his shoulder from inside, Armin’s eyes widened as he recognized the anxious girl in the doorway. “Annie? What are you doing here? Why are you out of your crystal??” He started to jog to the front door, standing next to a confused Levi.

“You know her?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Yes, from our cadet years. She didn’t join the Scouts though.” His gaze shifted from Levi’s eyes to the floor, an unreadable expression painting his face. “She’s also a Marleyan Warrior.”

Annie’s eyes widened at the mention of the Warrior Program. Of course they found out...

Levi turned around to head back inside, deciding this was none of his business. “Take care of it Armin.” He let out a small chuckle before continuing. “I thought we were getting arrested again.”

Armin’s eyes followed Levi as he walked away, but he turned back to face the MPs and Annie once again. She admired him for a moment. He seemed more mature now, but at the same time, it seemed some of the childish wonder had left his eyes in place of a more hopeless, dead look in his eyes. Such was to be expected of a soldier long at war.

“What are you doing here?” Arming questioned, staring at Annie.

“I... uh...” It wasn’t until now that she considered that admitting the only reason she was here was her lovesickness would be a little embarrassing, but she had to explain. Still, she altered her motives just a little bit so she wouldn’t seem so hopelessly devoted to you. “I broke out of the crystal... somehow... and I just wanted to visit you all one more time.” Even if she wasn’t directly speaking about you, admitting that she missed any of the people from her cadet days made her fluster up a little bit.

Armin stepped out of the way, beckoning her and the MPs to come inside. She stepped inside curiously, gazing at the inside of the building. It doesn’t seem half bad in here...

The MPs followed her cautiously, and still held both of her arms securely behind her back. Armin saw this, and motioned with his hand for them to let go, before speaking calmly.

“She’s not a threat, you can release her.”

The MPs loosened their grip on Annie, allowing her arms to fall comfortably at their sides. The two officers stepped back and against the wall, deciding to stay there to observe the situation.

Annie took the time to gaze around at the soldiers surrounding her. People looked on at her with many emotions. Some were indifferent, since they didn’t know her, but many were weary of her Warrior status, and a select few stared at her with pity-filled expressions. She continued to look to see if she recognized anyone in the crowd. Most faces were unfamiliar, but certain people stood out to her from her memories. Mikasa, Eren, Connie, Jean, Sasha... she glanced around, searching for the faces of her old comrades, but more so, she was looking for you.

“Everyone has changed a lot, haven’t they?” Armin sighed, looking at the ground with a look of sad nostalgia.

After a few more seconds of searching, she failed to find your beautiful e/c eyes anywhere in the room, and the seed of worry in the pit of her stomach began to grow, her palms growing clammy with anxiety.

“Where is Y/n?” She spat out abruptly, worry evident in her voice. She couldn’t bear any small talk at this point, she just desperately wanted to see where you were.

Her eyes widened as she looked back to Armin. His mournful expression by itself answered her question clearly, but she refused to pay any attention to it.

She gazed around at the others in the room desperately. Everyone from the 104th Cadet Corps (in other words, everyone that knew about the Annie’s relationship with the h/c haired girl) had the same expression.

Their faces were all laced with the same emotion.

Pity.

The kind of pity that you see when a neighbor has to tell the little kid down the street that the family puppy got hit by a car, or the kind of pity that you have when somebody gets their life’s work stolen from them, or, in this case, the kind of pity where you are forced to tell a distraught individual that their lover died at war. That kind of pity.

She didn’t want to believe it. No, she couldn’t believe it.

She couldn’t be bothered to close her slacked jaw, or to hide the distress on her face as she waits for the possibility that she was reading the room wrong.

Armin looked to his side, averting his eyes. He truly couldn’t find it in his heart to answer the question.

It wasn’t until the distinct clacking of boots on the hardwood floor started to approach her that she snapped out of her trance.

The person approached Annie slowly, but calmly, and Annie took a moment to scan her face. The stranger was decorated with a Scout badge on her shoulder, and a shiny medal hung from their neck. They had auburn/brown hair that was tucked into a loose ponytail behind their head, and an eyepatch covering their left eye.

The person had a sorrowful look as they grabbed Annie’s limp hand and encased it in their own.

“I am Hange Zoe, commander of the Scouts.” They said courteously. They bowed her head in mourning and respect as she continued on. “It’s my displeasure to have to inform you of this, but during a semi-recent mission to the city of Liberio, Y/n was shot and killed by a Marleyan.”

All of the sudden, everything stopped.

No sound, no motion, no nothing. It had just... frozen.

She had a feeling that the person in front of her was still talking, based on the fact that their lips were still moving, but she couldn’t hear them. She couldn’t hear anything. All that enveloped her ears was ringing. Painful, painful ringing.

She had stopped shaking, and she was certain her hand had gone cold in the other person’s grasp.

She didn’t understand it at all.

“How...” A barely audible whisper ghosted from her lips, and Hange’s word stopped in their throat. “How did this happen?” She grit her teeth and spoke out shaky words of disbelief. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes and threatened to spill down her cheeks. “How did someone like her... die...?” The last word of her sentence was so light in volume, yet so heavy in emotion. It’s almost as if the blonde girl couldn’t even comprehend the word itself.

“It was a warrior candidate.” Someone spoke from the other side of the room, and both Annie and Hange turned to look. The speaker leaned against the wall with his arms crossed, a scowl adorning his features.

“Floch, now isn’t the time-” Hange quietly tried to coax the man into shutting up and letting Annie grieve, but he continued to speak.

“That little bitch- she climbed aboard the ship using stolen ODM gear, took a gun, and shot into the crowd of soldiers blindly. Hit Y/n in the chest, she dropped to the ground in seconds.” He continued to explain so nonchalantly, as if the death of a comrade was just another casualty in his eyes. His calmness made Annie want to knock him out cold, but she wanted him to finish. She desperately needed to know.

“We beat the shit out of her for a minute- her and some other little blonde kid. They’re in holding cells downstairs as we speak.” Annie’s eyes widened as she thought about her girlfriend’s killer residing in the same exact building as her. Dark thoughts of violence flashed through her mind as she imagined all the things she would do to the murderer if she just got a chance. All she needed was a few minutes.

“I wasn’t with her when she died, but Mikasa, Armin, and Connie were. I think her last words were directed to you, but I don’t remember what she said.” He folded his arms and looked away, a subtle indication that he had finished speaking.

The room was still with tense, stagnant air. No one moved, nor spoke. Annie tried desperately to gather her thoughts, to try and think rationally about all of this- but she couldn’t. Rage and sorrow flooded her mind, and any other thoughts were just a blur. She was going to go confront this person. No, she swore, she was going to kill her.

Taking advantage of the stagnant environment (and the MPs questionable devotion to their guard duties) Annie made a mad dash towards the hallway.

The tears were rolling down her cheeks unrestrained now, and she made no effort to wipe them away. Normally, she would never let anyone see her this emotional. Well, no one other than you, of course.

She ran to the end of the hallway, and found the staircase that led to where the supposed murderer was- the basement. She swore she could hear chaos filled yells from behind her, but she couldn’t pick out if they were directed to her or this “Floch” guy, and frankly, she didn’t care.

She rushed down the stairs, nearly tripping because of how hurried she was, and reached the only jail cell that remained locked.

Gazing through the bars, she was met with two figures, both sitting slumped on the beds. One had short blonde hair, with a lost and confused look in his eyes, while the other had the same auburn hair as Hange, alongside chestnut colored eyes that were swelled over in rage. They looked battered and filthy, but that was to be expected of any prisoner of the Scout Regiment.

Still, their faces ignited a twinge of sympathy in Annie’s bruised heart. They were the faces of children. Lost, confused- they hadn’t began to even sort the world out. They still had lives to live, so much opportunity ahead of them. Opportunity that was not to be found in the Warrior Program.

Regardless, nothing could stop her from getting to that child on the other side of the bars. The anger in her eyes would easily single her out as the guilty party. No one with kind eyes, like the blonde boy’s, could have done this.

The children gazed upon her, mostly with confusion, but also a mix of fear and apprehension. Despite her relatively small size, she could look pretty damn intimidating when she was pissed.

A swift, but strong kick hit the ancient rusty lock, and it snapped open easily. The forced of the kick cause the door to swing wide open, and no longer did anything separate her from the monster that just crumbled her world from all around her.

Dangerously slow steps approached the girl as she gazed on with both fear and aggressive apprehension. The blonde boy could do nothing but watch bewilderedly.

“You...” A low whisper escaped Annie’s throat, like the shriek of a ghost trying to breach the worlds between the living and the dead.

She stopped walking when she reached the bed, and she gazed at the floor silently. She wondered if this was the sympathy that lay locked in her heart. She couldn’t say she didn’t understand the girl, after all, Annie was a warrior candidate once too. She knew what it was like, the desperation to get picked and become an honorary Marleyan, and to not disappoint your family- she got it. It led you to do a lot of things, and she couldn’t help but feel bad for anyone caught up in the twisted program, especially since she was only a child, twelve at most.

The flicker of empathy that burned quietly in her chest was quickly snuffed out, however, as images of your bleeding form crying out for her, alone and in pain, floated in her mind tauntingly.

She grabbed her right arm with her other hand, and let out hushed breath, before leaning her head back and bursting into hysterical, almost maniacal, laughter.

None of this was fair at all. Why did she lose you? Why did you have to die? Why you? Why? Why why why why why why-

“WHY?!” She suddenly screamed, tugging on the front of the girl’s shirt and throwing her across the room carelessly, adrenaline flowing through her and giving her all the strength she needed.

The girl collided with the wall with a thud, and fell into a heap on the floor with a yelp. But, Annie wasn’t done. She marched over and picked up the girl by the collar and slowly raised her off of the ground. She held her against the wall with fury in her eyes, and the girl winced in pain as her feet lifted from the floor and kicked helplessly into the air.

“WHY DID YOU HAVE TO DO IT?!” Annie screamed, her eyes wide with trauma and lips frozen in a broken frown. “WHY DID IT HAVE TO BE HER, DAMMIT?! DID YOU EVER THINK BEFORE YOU CHOSE TO KILL SOMEONE?! WHAT THEY MIGHT MEAN TO SOMEONE?!”

Annie vigorously shook the terrified girl, trying desperately to get some sort of point across. Any point was lost in the translation of anger and grief, however. But for now, scaring the shit out of this girl would have to do.

“Dammit...” The tears that had been held back for so long started to flow once again. All she saw was you... your smile, your laugh, everything about you was just so perfect. She yearned to see you just one more time, and to have one final conversation with you.

“Dammit! Don’t you understand?! I was going to spend the rest of my fucking life with that girl! We were gonna get married and settle down and live a normal fucking life! That’s all I ever wanted! I was supposed to be there for her through everything, and you let her die cold and alone because of what?! What did you gain out of this?! Do you feel proud?! Satisfied?! Do you enjoy the blood on your hands?!”

Her hands stilled around the stiff fabric of the shirt that she still clenched in her hands. The girl had giving up on clawing Annie’s grip from her- Annie wouldn’t let go.

A final, lowly chuckle left her lips, her hands slowly relaxed, and the girl slowly slid down the wall, and her feet connected with the ground at last, but the girl didn’t run away. She could, if she truly wanted to, but she stayed there in the blonde girl’s grip. Perhaps guilt, or perhaps fear. Annie couldn’t tell, of course. Her vision was too blurry from tears to make out facial expressions.

Sobs started to wrack Annie’s body as she struggled to keep her composure, and one of her hands left the worn shirt to instead go up to her mouth, covering her mouth as she started to breakdown further into grief.

“I... I loved her...” She chocked out quietly. “I loved her so much... and now... I’ll never get to... see her again.” Her other hand finally let go of the cloth, and she leaned that arm against the wall for support as she leaned her trembling body onto it, her forehead meeting the cold stone.

The final realization of her lover’s death hit her like a brick as her sobs wrecked helplessly through her body, and she shut her eyes in mourning, or perhaps to pretend that nothing had even changed at all...

“I... I miss her...”

She stood there for a moment, and although she could feel the gazes of the two children on her, she didn’t care. She stood there in silence, crying silently in vain for her lover to return to her.

After what felt like hours, a gentle hand placed itself upon Annie’s shoulder. She turned around hesitantly, and was met with Armin’s saddened gaze.

“Annie, I...” He averted his eyes and gazed at the two children still inside the cell, as well as Mikasa, Connie, and Jean, who all appeared silently in front of the open prison door. “I think it’s time to go.”

---

“Her last words?” Connie questioned sorrowfully.

“Yes.” Annie leaned her back against the stone grave and gazed into the moon as it began to rise elegantly over the horizon. “What did she say?”

“Well...” His eyes darkened as he slowly started to recount the events that unfolded that day.

“When she was first shot... and I ran to her side to try and talk to her, and see how bad it was. She said your name, Annie. I thought it was a little strange at first, until she cupped my cheek and smiled at me. She lost a lot of blood, and fast, so I figure that she may have been hallucinating, and thought I was you for some reason.” He chuckled painfully at that, conflicted on whether to be sorrowful or nostalgic about that moment.

“I was screaming at her to hold on until we arrived at the island, but there was just too much bleeding. There was nothing that we could do. But, she told me something else right before she died...”

-

“Hey, Annie... Don’t be sad, okay? I promise you... w-we... will meet again sometime. Maybe another life, or in heaven... I don’t really care. I don’t really want you to forget me, but... let me go. You have your own life to live, even if mine ends... here. This is a senseless war anyways. But... if even just my sacrifice... can slowly bring... c-closure to all this fighting... than it’ll have been worth it, I promise you. So, in that regard, I don’t regret anything. Just... stay strong for me, Annie... I l-love you...”

-

Connie finished speaking, and turned his back away from Annie respectfully as the tears started to fall yet again.

“Try not to get too cold out here...” He stated bluntly before leaving.

After a few minutes, and she was sure he and anyone else was gone, she slowly shifted to lay right underneath the tombstone. The moon now shone brightly upon her, and reflected beautifully against the grave stone. She didn’t figure that this was how she would be spending her night with you, but she felt a least a little solace in being alone with you again, under the vast, unaware stars that freckled the night’s sky above.

Her mind having finally been cleared, she came up with a conclusion that she was honestly ashamed for not reaching earlier.

This was a senseless war. A war where everyone is a victim. It wasn’t Annie’s fault, nor was it yours, or Eren’s, or even Gabi’s- as she had soon learned was the girl’s name. All this fighting amounted to nothing but bloodshed and loss.

She peered around her surroundings, and pondered if every solemn gravestone belonged to someone who was loved in the same way that she loved you. She stopped to wonder, as well, about all the Scouts she had murdered during that time as the female titan. She thought back to Marco, as well. All of it was pointless. Every single person meant something to someone, and she was so cruel for ripping that away. This stupid war- she should say- is cruel for ripping it away.

War never felt so cruel until it affected her like this.

It was like your final conversation that she could ever have with you, one that she would have from beyond your grave. A conversation of ideas, and of hope for a future without bloodshed.

Truly, the reality of it started to set it. Even without you, she would do all she could to stop the bloodshed. It meant sacrifices. Sacrifices, most notably, like you. She would’ve given anything for you to be at her side- to end this conflict with her, but she sighed as she figured that it just wasn’t meant to be that way. Your death wasn’t in vain, though, as it helped her understand.

With or without you, she would fight to end this war, no matter the costs.

WHY IS THIS SO LONG HOLY-

i did this instead of maintaining a consistent posting schedule...

Still, I hope you don’t mind how unusually long and detailed this is, I may have gotten a little hooked on the prompt.

Hope you enjoyed it, after all that effort lmaooo

[feigned-happy-end]

It was already 2 o’clock in the morning. Hard rain poured down on the thin metal roof covering the sunroom in which Aki had ran into a while ago, making loud clattering noises. He couldn’t help himself. Although the evening went fairly good after he joined Tooru in building up the rest of the furniture up in his room, he suddenly had one of his extreme moodswings seemingly out of nowhere again. At first the older one didn’t even realized it since Aki told him he would go down to smoke on the terrace, which was the code for smoking a joint, but when time passed and the younger didn’t came back he went down to check on him just to find him, cowering between boxes, curled up like a ball and sobbing.

Tooru: .... what is going on, chibi? *he whispered gently but mixed with a deep sigh as he sat down to the younger*

Aki: *he picked up on that sigh, naturally his brain started playing with that, leading his thoughts directly into the direction of him being an annoyance which made him sob even harder* .............. *he couldn’t respond even if he wanted to as his grip around his legs got tighter and his body tension getting so strong that if one would have pushed him with just a finger he would have fallen to the side exactly as he sat there* 

Tooru: ......... *he observed this for a moment, trying to gather his thoughts, trying to come up with a good thing to say but as mostly, he had no idea what was even going on* ........ *he cleared his throat before he spoke in a soft, gentle tone* ... Misaki, please ...? Tell me wha-

Aki: I’m trying! *he mumbled peevishly under sobbing, interrupting the other with it before he stopped speaking again*

Tooru: *he couldn’t restrain rolling his eyes which he regretted instantly yet still, it also made him notice how thin his self control got towards situations like this. He took a deep breath and decided to stay silent for a while, was his hope that just his presence might calm the smaller one down and make him talk more after a while*

Aki: ..... you should have sent me back to brazil! *he suddenly said eerily calm, almost accusatory after some minutes of silence where nothing else was to hear but his gradually more quiet becoming sobbing and the hard rain on the metal roof*

Tooru: ... aha .. *he responded with a dry snort as he started to get a hint of what this was about*

Aki: ............ aha ..... right .... *he repeated the older in a sarcastic tone before his sobbing grew a bit more again. For him, this little word meant that he was right, for him it meant that the older agreed to it but didn’t wanted to speak it out, for him it meant, that it would have been better if he never had found him.*

Tooru: *he watched the youngers face closely* .... do you wish, i would have sent you back? *he asked dry*

Aki: What? *he asked startled about this question and for the first time in this conversation looked up*

Tooru: *he put on a soft smile yet kept silent to wait for the smallers answer*

Aki: .... *confused by gotten ripped out of his chain of thoughts that ran into a complete other direction, he kept staring puzzled at the other for some moments* .... no. *he whispered rueful*

Tooru: *his smile grew a bit bigger as it seemed he finally got the youngers attention* .... so what makes you say this?

Aki: *he instantly took a deep breath to get ready to blow out a whole chain of reasons* First of, this! *he rolled his eyes down on himself to point out that he was very aware of the scene he was making* You can’t tell me this is fun! Don’t you even dare to try! I know you try and i hope you know i appreciate it but how long will it take till you loose it yourself?! Look at you! You threw your job away, for fuck! You threw your entire life away for me! *he sputtered and was far away from being done*

Tooru: *his frown got deeper and deeper as he tried to listen to the younger. The only thing that kept him from interrupting him was the thought that it might be good to let him vent out a bit first*

Aki: *unfortunately it was one of those moments where, to let him keep speaking, was actually quiet contraproductive as it gave him the room to get more and more obsess about it* I mean?! What were you even thinking?! *he now yelled at the older*

Tooru: *which was enough for him as he couldn’t stand it to get yelled at for no valid reason. He felt some sort of anger rising up in him but he tried his best to contain it, yet his voice got clearly deeper, way more serious as he finally stepped back into the conversation* What i was thinking? Really, Ben?!

Aki: *he instantly bit his lips to stop talking as he heard the older one calling him this name. It was always the sign that the older one meant something very serious if not already grew overwhelmed*

Tooru: *he noticed the reaction of the smaller one but was already too agitated to steer back to a calmer tone* I can tell you what i was thinking back then!

Aki: *his body tensed up again, a quiet, anxious whisper was all he could get out* ... no .. you don’t ha-

Tooru: No! *he interrupted him with a angry growl* You asked for it and i will tell you, again!

Aki: *he dropped his face, trying to subdue the upcoming sob*

Tooru: I was fucking scared! *he started yelling*

Aki: *as he heard the older using the word ‘fucking’ he couldn’t hold it no more and broke back into heavy sobbing. He knew Tooru too well to know that he barely swore unless he was really on edge and it was his fault*

Tooru: How can you even doubt the decisions i made?! How can you even doubt that i want you to be here with me?!

Aki: I don’t!!! *he yelled back in a desperate tone as he looked back up, trying to take back what he just blurrted out a moment ago as he realized how hurtful it must have sounded like*

Tooru: You do!! *he yelled back*

Aki: .. please ... i don’t! *he sobbed*

Tooru: What i was thinking was that if i don’t quit and look for you on my own i would never, fucking ever see you again except in pieces in some black plastic bags! Is that what you wanna hear?!

Aki: *his crying grew erratic at these words. He barely could breath anymore and his body trembled*

Tooru: *he hold his breath for a moment, trying to get a hold of the situation and what went on right now* ........... i .... *he looked at the smaller closely, still struggling with all the anger that came up in him but realizing that this would lead no where* ........ i am sorry .... *he sighed strained and shook his head*

Aki: *he also shook his head heavily, trying to give the older one a sign that he actually agreed and understood how the other one could get so irritated by him but he couldn’t speak for his crying*

Tooru: .......... *his frown changed from an angry one into a hurt one as he kept watching the other* ........ Misaki ... *he whispered worrying*

Aki: *he kept shaking his head, his face by now dug deep into his arms he clutched around his legs* .. no! *he sobbed loud but muffled due to his mouth being covered by his knees* .. it’s right!!! *he kept trying to speak*

Tooru: *he felt a stitch in his chest as the thought hit him that he was too harsh with the younger and did him worse than he already was* ..... no it’s not. I’m sorry.

Aki: NOOOO! *he screamed followed by a heavy choking sound as he was still struggling to breath, still his face dug*

Tooru: *he backed away a bit, startled by the scream* .... Misaki, please calm down, breath! *he said in a forced calm voice as he moved back closer to the younger. He slowly placed his hands on the arms of the smaller in an attempt to loosen his grip around his legs*

Aki: *he responded with a big shiver to the touch, making him tense up even more*

Tooru: *now his mood changed completely as he came to the conclusion that he scared the younger even more. Tears started to fill his eyes* ... Chibi ...? *he whispered as his voice was breaking but there was no change in respond of the other than the heavy, shaking sobbing that slowly started to break his heart* Misaki, please stop ... *he said as the first tear found it’s way down his cheek*

Aki: .. you will see! *he started speaking again, getting interrupted by his own attempts to breath and swallow* .. one day i’ll become too much and you will have to-

Tooru: *he rolled his eyes as he recognized the youngers record starting to play from the beginning again before he grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled him up to himself, not caring anylonger what would happen next as he himself didn’t knew what else to do anymore*

Tooru: Urusai baka no chibi! *were the last, shaky whispered words he said before he planted his lips on the smaller ones to make him stop talking this nonsense*

Aki: *he couldn’t help himself than to lean in, grabbing the olders shoulders to scooch closer into his arms as their kiss intensified*

Aki: *he wrapped his arms around the older, clinging onto him as if he was a the last straw that kept him from drifting away completely as his sobbing slowly got quieter and his breathing more steady*

Tooru: *he gently stroke over his hair as he hold him tight* Shhhhhh .... now focus on my voice and concentrate for a moment on the fact that what ever you have on your mind right now needs to take a break for just a moment, alright?

Aki: .. oh- ... okay .. *he stammered still shaking*

Tooru: *a soft smile came up on his lips as the smaller seemed to at least try to listen to him again* ... okay *he whispered soft, planted a kiss on the others head and from then on kept silent as he hold him close, softly rocking from side to side*

They sat like that for almost two hours more, just listening to the rain and feeling each others warmth, before Tooru started speaking again.

Tooru: ... hey ... did you fell asleep? *he whispered in his deep and calm voice*

Aki: .. mhm ... *he hummed agreeing with a little chuckle*

Tooru: *he had to chuckle softly himself about the smallers respond but mostly he was simply relieved things had calmed down again* ........ hey, the sun’s getting up. How about we go to bed? *he whispered gently*

Aki: Mhm-mhmmmm! *he now hummed denying, a sulky tone in his voice, as he dug his face closer against the tallers chest*

Tooru: *a dry snort leaked his throat before he raised his hand to tenderly pat the youngers cheek* .... come on, Misaki. Let’s get up.

Aki: Ngnnnn! *he moaned whiny* ... just 5 more minutes, ple- no! *he couldn’t restrain a little chuckle before he continued* - onegaaaaa~i, seeeee~npaiiiiii! *he warbled cheeky*

Tooru: *he rolled his eyes at what he heard and laughed warmly* Oh, come on now! Really?!

Aki: .. hon ...to ni? *he more asked then answered, not sure if this was even the right term*

Tooru: *he couldn’t help but chuckle again* ... wakarimashita ... watashi wa anata o hakobanakereba naranai to omoimasu ne? (... i see ... guess i gotta carry you then, huh?)

Aki: *he opened his eyes and looked confused up at the others face* ... what?

Tooru: *he laughed and shook his head*

Aki: EY!!!!! *he shouted sulky and started poking the others bare sides*

Tooru: *he kept laughing and tried to enjoy this moment of peace as he knew it could change back into something else at any time*

[party-gilmore]

...well, I managed to get to literally JUST BARELY before the actual smut starts, so please enjoy this unbetaed 2k word teaser prologue of "demi/grayace Parker doesn't feel like she's Enough for Eliot without Hardison around, so he sets the record straight."

Set during The Hurricane Job, because who gives a damn if the ep is even OUT yet, am i right? XD

“Room 236.”

“What was that?” Eliot hums. His voice is muffled beneath the heavy, sopping weight of his jacket as he tugs the damn thing over his head. His shirt peels off right along with it, so he just shucks the whole shebang in the generic direction of his luggage. He’ll have plenty of time to see to it properly tomorrow - the storm will have them trapped at least another day. With a groan, he stretches out his bad shoulder. It’s not quite dislocated again, but it’s not quite right either. Two nimble hands sneak up from behind and flit their way over the shoulder blade, one bracing against the wet neck of his white tank top while the other presses swift and hard on the joint - and ‘pop’ goes the weasel.

Eliot flashes Parker a pained but soft smile through the old dresser mirror, but it falters when he catches her eyes peeking over his shoulder. There’s a look in them he isn’t familiar with, but doesn’t think he likes.

“Park-” he starts to turn around, but she manhandles him back away from her and shoves her hand into the back pocket of his jeans. No small feat tonight, they way the rain has soaked and damn near suction cupped them to his ass. “H-hey, woah, alright there darlin’, slow it down a bit,’ he chuckles, reaching back to feel for her, but she’s already hopping back and flashing a small, colorful rectangle at him.

“Room 236,” she repeats, flipping it around her fingers like a coin. Eliot frowns. They’re in room 225, just down the hall. They’d found what the crooked cops were after with time to spare, so there was nowhere left to search. Why then, would he still have a room key for-

Oh. He reaches back and pats the offending rear pocket, flushing as he remembers Marshall Shipp’s parting flirtatious wink and accompanying gentle smack on the ass as they’d parted ways a half hour ago. He hasn’t exactly been… discouraging her interest. It's felt good that women are still interested in him even as he’s put a few more miles on, and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t like the attention - especially from someone as 'his type' as Maria.

Well, what used to be his type, at least.

He shoots a sheepish, apologetic grin at Parker. Maria’s ‘interest’ was quickly becoming ‘intent,’ and now Eliot needed to find a way to nip that in the bud sooner rather than later.

“Damn, I should’ve noticed the reverse lift,” Eliot clears his throat, toying with the edge of the pocket absentmindedly. “She must’ve slipped it to me after we completed the radio broadcast. I was uh, distracted by our success I guess.”

“Bet that’s not all she’d like to slip you,” Parker’s voice takes on a bit more of a playful tone for a moment. Cheeky, teasing. It feels like solid ground.

“Hey now,” Eliot teases back, starting to undo his belt, slow and deliberate, as he begins toeing out of his boots. “I can’t help that I still ‘got it,’ darlin’. I can think of a couple folks I know offhand that might like to, uh… 'slip me a little something' right now, 'specially since I'm properly alone with one of 'em for the first time since-” The only problem is, he forgot how damn difficult these boots are to get off on a good day, let alone when soaked through with salt water. Swearing under his breath, he abandons his attempt at being suave to sit at the end of the bed and fumble with the ties. He should know better than try to look cool for either of his partners nowadays. It never works out quite right, and he’s starting to get to the age where he doesn’t even see the use of that kind of posturing anymore himself. They’ve seen him at his worst already - mentally, physically, emotionally - so what would be the point, really? On top of that, he may make a fuss about his ‘cool points’ in front of Breanna, but he knows Hardison’s sneaky ‘dorkification’ process he's been slowly contaminating Eliot with over the last decade is almost complete. He's still drawing the line at DnD, but he doubts that'll last much-

“...or, if you wanted, you could go let her slip it to you.”

Eliot is too caught up in his own head to really register the suggestion at first. He's busy ruminating on how differently his younger self would be handling this whole situation - all smooth moves and hot edges, shucking off clothing with a kind of casual grace.

‘Yeah, those days have long passed,’ he thinks, hunched over and fighting the waterlogged leather of his boots with fumbling, aching fingers. He gets the first one yanked off his foot less than gracefully, wincing at his ankle’s unsubtle protest, before what Parker said finally processes.

Slowly, he sets his singular boot the side and shifts enough to face her. Parker’s tone didn’t hold any bitterness or bite, just nervousness and a bit of resignation. She isn’t looking at him, but out the window, arms wrapped tight around her midsection in a way he hasn’t seen her do in a while. She bounces restlessly on her heels. There’s a clear energy inside her looking to get out. The thunder rumbles lowly through the suddenly silent room, murmuring a warning through the curling reverberation in Eliot’s gut.

He starts out gentle. Easy.

“...now why would I wanna go an’ do somethin’ like that?” Sometimes it’s easiest to bring things to Parker head on, and she’ll respond in her usual stark, frank manner. Just lay it all right out in the open to be picked apart. This isn’t one of those times. Eliot can read that much in every restless tap, every rapid twitch of her eyes to some place else in the room, any place that isn’t him.

“She’s your type, isn’t she?” Parker’s voice is a higher register than it should be, but not quite into her panicking zone yet. That’s a start. “She’s badass, sexy… passionate.”

Eliot notices her leaning heavy on that last word, and frowns.

“So are you, Parker.”

“Not in the same way!” She turns a bit, still looking outside, but her arms unwrap from herself to gesture between them. “Not the same way you and Hardison are!”

It’s quiet for another beat. The white noise of the hissing rain against the window settles into the room with a steady, thrumming tension. Eliot doesn’t jump to demanding clarification like he might’ve done a decade ago, doesn’t snap and tell her to stop beating around the bush. He’s learned that Parker tucks away all the information he needs to understand in every phrase, no matter how inane or incongruent it may seem. So Eliot holds his tongue and chews on the words for a while.

“Me and Hardison, huh?” He leans forward, elbows on his knees, and rubs his jaw in a performance of pensiveness. The movement draws Parker's attention and she finally looks over to him, following the back and forth of his fingers. He presses on, carefully. “Thought we were talkin’ bout me and the marshall. What’s Alec got to do with this?”

“Because he isn’t here!” Parker breaks, not enough to falter or crumble but enough to say what's on her mind before she can overthink it. "He isn't here and it's different! I can feel it! I'm not-" she fumbles her words for a minute, just waving between them again. "-all passionate about the whole sex thing like he is!"

There's that word again. Eliot knows where to go from here, at least. It's all about that word. He stands up, albeit a little awkwardly with one foot still in an inch high boot.

"Sure it's fun and I like it sometimes, but not like you two do! Alec balanced me out, could give you what you needed! I'm not… by myself, I'm not enough for… for y-..." Parker cuts herself before she can grow any more manic, bunching her face up and looking away again like she does when trying to stave off any waterworks before they can start.

Eliot can see her closing up again as her words fail her, but that's alright. What needed to get out made it out. He can take it from here. He hobbles over in his awkward, single-socked gait until he's close enough to take her shoulders in hand, but he doesn't pull her in for the hug. Not yet.

"Now I want you to listen to me, and listen good." Eliot makes sure his tone is firm, but gentle. Parker responds the way he'd hoped - still not looking, tilting her head down, but leaning toward him. Into his space. Receptive, and ready to hear him. "Yeah, it feels different. That's cause you and me? Are different from me and Alec. We're always gonna be. 'That makes us, us,' remember? Just like that's different from you and Alec. It's all part of 'us,' yeah, but it's… we got our own thing, Parker. And sure, we might like it best when it's all three of us, just because we love him so, so much, yeah?"

He lifts one hand from her shoulder and tucks a bit of hair back behind her ear, giving her a chance to respond if she wants. Parker murmurs a quiet "yeah," and steps in a little closer. Eliot tugs her in the rest of the way now, assured that she's open to the touch. She pillows her chin on the shoulder she fixed, and Eliot lays a light kiss to the outside of her ear before continuing in a lower voice.

"So… we miss him, when he's not here, and we don't have the 'all three of us' thing right now. That doesn't make our thing, the you and me thing, any less good. It doesn't- Parker, you're so much more than just enough for me. You're who I need... especially when we don't have Hardison. Don't ever doubt that."

"I'll try," Parker turns her head and mutters it into the crook of Eliot's neck, and he loves her all the more for it. It's better than any empty promise of 'I won't,' because he knows the honesty of it. Knows it's not just an empty platitude of 'I'll do it,' but the vulnerable admission of 'I want to, but don't know if I can.'

"That's all I ask, darlin'."

Because it is. That's all Eliot ever asks of her. To try. Never demands that she change, never insists she should be thinking of herself differently or more kindly than she does. Just that she tries to.

"Now. About this whole 'passion' thing," Eliot sighs, pulling back so he can do that thing he does to Hardison that Parker loves to watch him squirm under, but likes it a lot less when it's turned on her. That thing where he ducks his neck and tilts his head and looks up at her through his hair with that serious, intimate look that makes her want to run because he for sure can see all of her secrets like this but also want to sink deep into that comforting gaze and never leave it. "I don't know where you got this idea that you're not passionate from, but-"

"Yeah, but it's not-!"

"The same?" Eliot cuts off her half-hearted attempt at argument. "Course it's not the 'same' as us, Parker! You aren't us. So, you… you don't lose yourself in it the same way me and Hardison do, okay? Him and me, how we get high off each other, the way we act... so you don't do that. That's fine! That’s only one type of passion, darlin'. You can't tell me,” he lets his hands skim down Parker’s arms until they meet her own palms. “That the way you focus so damn hard on taking us apart - taking me apart…”

Eliot brings Parker’s hands to his hips, and her fingers start to fidget with the hem of his shirt. Anchoring herself with the ribbed texture of the tank. Starting to explore up his stomach the way Eliot knows that Parker knows he likes. She’d ferreted that one out of him ages before they’d even thought up this whole ‘you and we makes three’ train. He lets his voice go a little breathy, a little raspy, makes sure she notices how she's affecting him. “-the way you always know exactly how to do it, piece by piece, single-mindedly pulling me apart like a damn puzzle, Park… you can’t tell me that ain’t some kind of passion.”

“Yeah, but that’s just the same way I steal stuff,” Parker giggles a little, the familiar flutter of Eliot’s sides under her deft fingers grounding her and soothing some of the unease. He’s right about this. How she knows what to do with him. How good she is at it. But that’s not anything special, it’s just-

“Exactly, Parker,” Eliot is trying to walk them back toward the bed, but it’s not really working out well. Between his having only the one boot on and Parker actively seeking out the ticklish bits of his belly that make his knees go all wobbly when she scrapes her nails down them, it’s comical enough to startle another giggle out of her. Or it’s a sob. Or it’s a hiccup. Or it’s some weird combination of all three, she isn’t really sure, but it doesn't seem to really matter either. The sound is whatever it was, just like she is whatever she is.

“It's just like that. Just like how you plan your next score. And that’s your Thing. Like me and food, Hardison and his nerdery... Do you realize how that makes me feel? Knowing you treat me like a heist? Like the thing that you let define you?”

“Yeah but that’s not a sex thing, it’s just a me thing.”

“It doesn’t matter that it’s not a sex thing, Parker, it’s your passion. Your Thing. Yours.” Eliot finally makes it back to the edge of the bed and drops, pulling Parker into his lap. He guides her wandering hands to his chest so she can feel the rumble in his voice as he growls.

“Darlin’, you treat me like damn masterpiece. Like I’m standing smack under a spotlight in the middle of the Louvre, and the only thing in the world that matters to you is how you’re gonna pick through my security piece by piece until all that’s left under your hands is a canvas stretched tight as it’ll go and a picture meant only for you and the people you choose to see it."

Parker’s nails scrape against the skin of Eliot’s collarbone as her fingers instinctively curl in, wanting to grip take steal hold climb, and he barely restrains himself from throwing his head back in a moan. He needs to make sure Parker’s in the right place first, before he gives himself over to his own wants.

“Wow,” she whispers, damn near reverent now as she looks down at him. There’s a dawning in her eyes that tells Eliot they’re alright. That they’re gonna be good. That it’s okay to pull her tighter and ask her to go ahead and steal him again tonight, since he knows her rigging is secure.

"I can't imagine anything more passionate than that."

“Uh-huh, ‘wow' is right,” he laughs breathlessly, and reaches up to take hold of her chin. It’s a light grip, barely any pressure where he between his thumb resting on the front and the rest of his fingers curling around under her jaw, but she lets Eliot guide her down until their lips touch. Not kissing, yet, just touching. His mouth moves against hers as he speaks, tongue briefly darting out to wet two pairs of parched lips. “-so tell me, why the fuck would I want to go to anyone else?”

“Maybe if you got some bad advice,” Parker murmurs, voice strong and confident again for the first time since they wrapped up the con. “From someone who didn’t realize she made you feel that way?”

“Hmmn, that could make sense,” Eliot hums back, resisting the urge to roll up against her in wet jeans that would only serve to chafe rather than provide any of the friction that having Parker in his lap always makes him crave. “If someone could help me get this damn boot off, maybe I could get to work making sure she’ll never forget it?”

[starsstruck]

blue dream

a getting high to lovers if you will (or stonerrry). you and harry absolutely love the time you spend together with your little smoke sessions, not being able to get enough of each other. shared pipes, hummus snacks and night time swims. 

pairing: harry x reader words: 15.4k rated: M (drug usage and sexual content)

disclaimer: i am not promoting drug use. those arrested for marijuana usage and possession should not be in incarcerated. please remember to be safe and smart, and happy smoking.

a/n: hello i am back again. this piece is just all fun, something that i think about far too often and wanted to bring to life ! i am very excited to share it with everyone and i hope you all enjoy ! as always please let me know your thoughts and happy reading ❣️                                                          

                                                           ***

“Brought us a little treat,” you sat yourself next to Harry, smiling hello to him.

He grinned down at you, having been waiting for the opportunity to speak you again and not getting the chance to earlier. “Thought I saw you come in. What have you got?”

Reaching through the bag that sat by your feet, digging through it until your fingers wrapped around the glass container. Shaking it as you pulled it out, knowing that Harry would immediately know what it was.

“Jo gave me this new strain they just got in.” You watched his eyebrows raise in interest. “It’s a hybrid of course. Join me?”

“Do you even have to ask?” Harry smiled, quickly standing to his feet, ready to head outside where the two of you always smoked. His place had a very cute backyard, you had no idea if it was him who made it that way with the little potted plants, or if it was someone else, but you loved it nonetheless.

It was a bit unspoken, that the two of you always smoked together. You weren’t too certain how the tradition started, neither of you being that close beforehand. But you always were bringing a little bit of weed with you when you went out, and somehow Harry was the only one wanting to join you.

Your good friend, Jo, had been working in a local dispensary for over a year now and she always brought home with her new strains that they would get in, or edibles, or just anything she wanted to try. The two of you had studied together in college, always indulging each other with your weed antics. Which apparently still have yet to stop.

Harry had been a friend of a friend to you. You had rarely seen him around, and when you did you barely spoke to him. For a good part of a year you saw him very sparingly, out with mutual friends or over at someone’s house for dinner.

It was only really in the past couple of months that the two of you grew much closer, both finding the other enjoying a smoke rather than a drink, and particularly enjoying each other’s company.

It had really started one night when you stopped by your friend Eli’s house one day after work, having promised him that you would bring by some weed since Jo had given you an amazing discount yet again.

Harry had been there as well, and although the original plan was to stop by to drop off the weed and then quickly be on your way home, they had ended up inviting you to stay for some dinner and maybe a little shared bowl or two.

After eating some salad rolls that they made when you got there, retreating to the little balcony at Eli’s place to give the new strain you brought over a try. You had spent very little time with Harry by this point, a casual acquaintance.

Though when Eli passed out nearly immediately from smoking, saying he had too much at once and needed a little lie down, it was really the first time you and Harry were alone together.

“He always falls asleep,” Harry laughed from across you on the balcony.

“That he does,” you hummed in agreement, your movements feeling languid and slow as you took a big sip of the water in front of you.

Harry was leaning back on a little chair, hands resting on his stomach and legs folded over each other. “I didn’t know you liked to smoke.” He spoke after a little moment in silence.

You laughed, knowing very well that all your friends always said maybe you enjoyed it a little too much. “Yeah, maybe a bit too much. I have a friend that works in a dispensary, she always gets me great stuff.”

“I love that,” Harry hummed, reaching out over the table between the two of you to fiddle with the lighter.

“Didn’t know you smoked either.”

He rubbed his hand over his face, pausing with a laugh. “Enjoy it a bit too much as well. Never really did it until my twenties, but only started smoking more often until a couple years ago. Like it better than drinking.”

“I get that,” you nodded along. “It’s just… nicer. Calmer.”

You had ended up spending a good part of an hour chatting with Harry. The next time you saw him was at Eli’s once again, the two of you deciding to end the night seated on his balcony with a joint being passed around. Since then, it had nearly become unspoken that if you both felt like it, you would go out for a little smoke or two together.

You grabbed your bag, pushing the glass door open to expose a little set up of chairs and a table. Settling into one of the cold chairs, placing your bag on the table and pulled out your little baggy you carried your grinder and pipe in. Harry settled in next to you, ever so attentive as you quickly worked your magic.

Picking up small buds of the plant between your nails, lightly ripping them apart and placing them haphazardly into the green grinder. Twisting it back and forth after closing the lid over the grinder, eyes flicking over to Harry.

“How’ve you been?” He asked, watching your hands quickly work around the grinder.

“Good,” humming, opening up the grinder and starting to fill up the small bowl of your pipe with the shredded bits of weed. “Work’s been a bit stressful lately.”

“Yeah, been a bit since I’ve seen you.” He nodded, eyes already on you when you looked over at him. “Everything’s okay though?”

“Yeah, nothing really knew. Just the same old problems,” grinning at him, knowing full well he’d heard about your issues at work over and over. You hated how much you annoyed people with your stories, you liked your job you really did, but there were just some things that never seemed to go away.

Reaching for the painted lighter on the table, bringing the end of your pipe to your mouth, flicking the lighter a couple times unsuccessfully as the wind blew kept blowing out the flame.

“Here,” Harry leant forward in his chair, body facing yours as he brought his hands up to cup around the pipe. Hands brushing against yours as you lit the plant, inhaling through the mouth of the pipe as you did so.

Cheeks hollowing, blowing some smoke from your nose as you inhaled again. The smoke heavy in your throat, moving the pipe away from your lips while Harry dropped his own hands back down. Breathing the smoke in slowly, waiting a beat until blowing it back out through parted lips.

Wordlessly passing it over to Harry, watching as he turned his body to block the wind and quickly lit the bowl, pipe against his mouth. Wrapping around the end just a bit, repeating your motions as he slowly inhaled with a puffing chest and hollowing cheeks.

Licking his lips as he pulled the pipe away, softly blowing the smoke out. You watched the smoke leaving his mouth, looking nearly orange as it caught the light coming from inside.

“S’nice.” He nodded, not feeling a burn in his throat. “Smooth, if that makes sense.”

“Makes a lot of sense,” you nodded, grabbing the pipe and lighter again and taking another hit. Returning the question to him, asking how he’s been and catching up on small anecdotes since the two of you had been apart.

Harry loved his time like this with you, if anything it was all he looked forward to when you’d come over with your little bag of ‘treats’ as you called it. He had always enjoyed smoking, but just talking with you outside like this was something he couldn’t believe he used to go without.

“You know you can always let me know if you need a little smoke after work,” he offered after you told him a particular story of your stress. His high had nicely settled in, the emptied pipe sitting in front the of two of you as you chatted away.

“I’ll hold you up to that,” you hummed, playing with a ring on your finger. You had never really hung out just the two of you to smoke, this little ritual always happening when you were with your other friends and would sneak out together to get a little stoned.  

A small quiet fell over the two of you, noises from chatter inside muffled with the soft music playing was all that was heard. You silently added a bit more to the bowl, not having to ask if he wanted more as both of you usually smoked about two bowls together before deciding it was enough for the night. Plus, the high was light so far, and you wanted to see where a few more hits would get you.

“Did you want to head back inside?” Quickly finishing that second bowl, pulling the little ashtray sitting on the windowsill across from you, taping out the ash.

Harry was quiet for a second, eyes narrowing on the way you so comfortably worked with the task at hand. He remembers the first time you had both gone out to his backyard space to some, just the two of you, and how you immediately made yourself at home.

“Not really,” he finally spoke, realizing he had left your question unanswered. “Kind of rather stay out here for a bit.” Sheepish smile shot in your direction, watching you offer him a big grin. He could use the nice calm summer air as an excuse, the way he was just cozy enough in his fleece sweatshirt, but truthfully, he just wanted to spend more time with you alone.

“Me too.”

He beamed when you agreed, nodding along as he watched you bring your feet up to your chair, hugging your knees to your chest. “Did you want any snacks?”

You hummed, nodding your head lightly and furrowing your brow as if deep in thought. “Do you have any hummus?”

Harry quickly left to go grab the two of you some food, upholding the silent agreement that the two of you shared. Since you usually brought the weed, he would always have no problem in offering you food, making the trade more or less equal.

You didn’t realize you were smiling to yourself while you waited for Harry outside, noticing that he never used to have the snacks you liked on hand until this became a regular thing.

Harry soon reappeared with a box of crackers tucked under his arm, some hummus and baby carrots for the sake of being healthy although you both knew the extra salty crackers were much more desirable. In his other hand were two glasses of water, handing you one so that he could place the other down.

You loved to watch his hands, secretly in awe but just how pretty they looked. Whether they were rolling a joint, cupping the flame of a lighter, or brushing against yours as you handed the pipe back and forth, you always found yourself just the slightest bit entranced with his hands.

The muffled music from inside was enough for you, excitedly opening up the box of herb flavoured crackers. This was your favourite part, when the two of you sat side by side, snacking on whatever the mood was for the night and mindlessly chattering away.

The both of you would often space out, easily forgetting what the other one was saying and never really holding a true start to end conversation. But you liked it that way, usually remembering your half-baked ideas the next day and texting Harry about them, almost finished off the conversation that way.

“What are you doing Thursday?”

Pulling your attention back towards him, waiting for you to answer him. “I get off work at 7, why?”

“You want to do something that night? Smoke a bit?”

You found yourself immediately nodding to his question. “Yeah that sounds nice. You could come by my place if you want, I live by the water, we could walk out there.”

Harry mirrored your grin. “Stunning.”

                                                          ***

Meeting Harry out by where he parked his car on the street, tote bag swung over your shoulder and folded tapestry to sit on in hand. “Hi,” you smiled, nearly shyly. The long skirt of your dress was blowing open a bit in the wind, quickly fixing it as you joined Harry.

“You live so close to the water its amazing.” He grinned, easily falling in step with you as you led the way towards the water.

“Yeah,” you breathed out, knowing the location of your studio was a dream, although the tiny place and high rent wasn’t. “My place is really small though, but its honestly worth it.”

Harry was only carrying a jacket in his hands, seemingly dressed for the opposite weather that you were, in a baggy sweatshirt and jeans.

The walk down to the water was easy, taking less than ten minutes before you were leading Harry to a little secluded area you knew was comfortable to sit back in. The sun had just set, the sky would soon be getting even darker but a little hazy blue still remained above.

There was nearly no one by the water, only a couple other groups of people who were enjoying the cooling evening. You dropped your bag down to the ground, happy with your spot, watching Harry follow suit as he sat on the tapestry you spread out.

While you pulled out your usual bag and container that held everything you needed, Harry flipped through his music library on his phone until The Modern Lovers started playing, not too loudly. He watched as you repeated the same actions you always did, placing the pipe on the tapestry that you were sitting on, lighter next to it.

“I’ve never tried this one,” his eyes moved from your fingers to meet your gaze. “The strain I mean. Jo told me it’s one of the best she’s tried.”

“Hybrid?” He knew you usually would go for hybrids, finding the best middle ground with them. Only once did the two of you smoke a heavy indica. You had fallen asleep with your legs draped over his lap, head against the armrest of the couch.

“Of course,” you grinned, eyes flicking up to his briefly before focusing back on your task at hand. “Jo described the high as dreamy.”  

“I like the sound of that.” Harry hummed, telling himself that most highs with you were in fact, dreamy.

Quickly filling the bowl of your ever-trusty blue pipe, flicking the lighter to light the buds while you brought the mouth of the pipe to your lips.

“It’s nice,” you spoke as you exhaled, not feeling the burning in your throat that would sometimes occur. You took another quick hit, exhaling the smoke from your nose before sucking in through your lips again.

Passing the glass pipe over to him, slowly letting the smoke blow out of your mouth. Harry repeated the same motion as you, resting his elbows on his knees with his legs spread out. You followed the way his head titled back slightly to blow the smoke out up, lips puckering as it left in a quick straight line.

“Fuck,” he muttered, mostly to himself. The lighter wasn’t properly titled when he went in for another take, the flame flicking just past his thumb. Shaking his hand out at the dull pain of the burn, while rubbing his index finger over the spot.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” he hummed, moving the pipe away from his mouth and observed the red skin of his thumb. “Just a little burn.”

“Here,” you snatched the lighter from his hand. Flicking on the lighter for him, wordlessly motioning for him to take another hit.

Harry was perfectly able to do it himself, it was barely a first degree burn and it happened to everyone, even the most vetted smokers when they had to tilt their lighter down. But you had moved closer to him, turning your body to face his and your bent leg was resting right on his, so he didn’t mind.

“Thank you,” he couldn’t help the little smirk, before he went to inhale through the pipe. You rested your elbow on his bent knee, bringing your other hand to cup around the flame. His eyes were focused on yours as the two of you stilled for a second – that quick second ending when you dropped both hands away to rest on your legs.

You didn’t move from your spot so close to him until the bowl was finished, passing the pipe back and forth until it was all ash. You sat back around so that your back was leaning against the log with Harry by your side.

Although not facing each other anymore, you still sat close so that your bare arm was leaning against his covered one. The high settled in nicely, both chattering away about whatever came to mind until a small silence overtook you.

“Didn’t realize it was so dark out.” You said, head titling back against the wood behind you so that you could observe the stars. The beach had slowly emptied, the faint sounds of another group somewhere around you but not in sight.

Harry hummed. “The water looks nice.” He was right, it did. Although in the dark light, it was shimmering and it felt like every ripple on the surface was heightened.

“Didn’t really think this through,” Harry suddenly spoke from next to you, pulling your attention away from where the water hit the shore.

“Hm?”

“Not really in the right state to drive home anytime soon.” His eyes were still focused forward, watching the way the crescent moon reflected on the water in front of the two of you.

“Oh,” you paused, for what seemed like far too long but neither of you really noticed. “You could always stay at mine.”

He faced you at your words, small smile playing at his lips and heavy eyes looking into yours. “If it’s not too much trouble…”

Shaking your head slightly, not breaking his gaze as the breeze blew between the two of you. “No trouble at all.”

His eyes narrowed on the way your mouth remained slightly parted, before biting your lips together with a small smile twitching on the corners of your lips. He didn’t think about, or even care for that matter, that he was so shamelessly staring at your mouth in the moment.

Snapping himself out of his daze, small hum with a nod to confirm your invitation, turning his attention back to the scenery in front of you.

Sighing softly as you turned around as well, breeze carrying a soft smell of the water and soil around you. Maybe it was because you were the slightest bit out of your mind at the moment – it was probably due to your feeling of dehydration – but you really wanted to submerge yourself in that feeling the smell of the breeze was giving you.

Not being able to take your eyes off the water in front of you, wanting nothing more than to feel the coolness that it likely held all around you. Standing suddenly, Harry’s head spinning towards you at your fast movement.

“I want to swim.”

Taking a few steps away from Harry, tempting your way towards the water and only stopping when his voice called out from behind you. “Is that – I mean is that really the best idea?”

Turning around, seeing him rise to his feet as well but staying put with his hands on his hips, watching you from a distance. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

“Well,” his voice was slow, and you didn’t even realize he had started walking towards you. “You’re not exactly sober, darling. Plus, it’s almost too dark out.”

He was right about the last part, the only real source of light right now was coming from the moon, that had just begun its path towards becoming full and was not offering that much light. The road wasn’t too far off, street lights lining it, but much to far off to offer any real lighting.

“I’m not swimming swimming, just a little dip,” you kept your eyes on him as he moved to stand next to you, not too far off from where the water hit the land. “Join me?”

“It’s going to be cold.” He hummed, not saying no.

“That’s kind of the point, no?”

His eyes narrowed on yours for a moment, briefly wondering what could possibly be going through your mind. “Doesn’t make too much sense.”

A breathy laugh left your lips, looking away from Harry and towards the water. “It’s just…” you didn’t know how to word what seemingly clear thoughts you had moment ago. “You know that feeling when you float in water and like, you feel heavy against the water but light at the same time?”

A small “yeah” that was nearly a whisper was the only noise Harry made, a silence falling around the pair of you before speaking again. “And then the water doesn’t really feel like water, its just something that’s nearly all consuming?”

Silence fell between you again, turning to Harry. Slow nod as he briefly looked over at you, grinning once again. “Didn’t realize you liked swimming so much.”

“I don’t,” you shrugged, “I just. Really want to be in the water right now.”

He laughed at your words, a deep laugh that made you smile along, eyes slowing in on him as you watched him tug his sweatshirt off above his head. Dropping it to the ground next to him without a care, looking at you from the corner of his eye.

“You’re gonna swim with me?” Murmuring as you tugged on your own clothes, untying the knot that held the fabric of your dress in at the waist.

“’Can’t have you splashing around there in the dark alone, can we?” He couldn’t help letting his eyes fell to where your fingers were moving to undo the buttons that’s lined the front of your dress.

Pulling down his loose fit jeans in one quick motion, kicking them aside and trying his best not to look at every new inch of exposed skin that you had uncovered after letting the long dress fall to the ground.

Offering Harry a smile that could almost been seen as shy, surprisingly not feeling cold in only your underwear and flimsy bralette. Shoes had long been abandoned, and you took a breath before taking the few steps needed to get to the water.

Not stopping when the cold water hit your feet, then shins, then knees, only turning around to see Harry following you once the water was just under your hips. Unlike you, he seemed to be taking much bigger bolder steps in the water. He shot you a little smile, before lunging forward with a messy little dive and soon he disappeared under the water.

He quickly reappeared, hair flat against his head before he brought a hand up to push it off his forehead. Easily finding his footing, standing a bit out of the water. He was far enough from you that only his silhouette was really visible, but the moon caught the gleam in his eyes. “Thought you were swimming?”

Pausing for another moment, before a laugh shook through you. Your legs had warmed up as the skin got used to the temperature of the water, moving in a bit deeper before taking the literal leap like Harry did and submerging yourself in the water.

The feeling of the water all around you was exactly like you had imagined it would be, and nothing like it at all. The cold water was a bit of a shock, but once your head emerged from the water and the warm night air hit you, you felt so relaxed.

“Exactly what I needed.” Laughing as you rubbed water out of your eyes, no doubt smudging the makeup you forgot you had on.

Harry’s mind slowed, probably because of the bowl he smoked earlier, but the fact that he was even under any kind of influence evaded him. You were close enough that he could distinguish separate drops of water shining in the moonlight, running down your neck. He was close enough that if he wanted, he could reach out and stop them from sinking down over your skin. And he did want to. He didn’t realize he was staring at you without saying anything for a while until his eyes met yours, his mind really slowing like he was in a cheesy movie and they slowed down the scene.

And right on cue, you pushed your hand through the water in one quick motion, splashing water onto his face.

Taking a moment to process your action, cool water dripping from where it hit his chin at your childish action. His hand moved in a near mirroring of yours, splashing water right back to you with enough force that had you rubbing water from your eyes afterwards.

Your mouth was dropped to an O, even though you had started the attack. Your lips moved as if you were about to speak. Instead a little laugh has heard while you turned away from him.

Water of course slowing you down as you tried to run away from him, only taking three wide slow steps before his presence was felt behind you. Small gasp leaving your lips when his warm skin came in contact with yours, arms wrapping around your waist as he trapped you in against him.

Harry’s mind slowed again, arms tightening against you as he kept his footing firm, your back resting against his chest. He was certain that you’d be able to feel his heartbeat, not caring at the moment if you noticed how fast it was beating.

“Where are you going?”

His breath tickled your skin, not being able to help the shiver that ran down your spine – it could be blamed on the cool water or the night air, but it was really Harry’s presence behind you. His chin brushed over your shoulder, resting there for a moment.

It wasn’t until you turned around in his arms, leaving a tiny space between the two of you with just enough that when you breathed in your chest nearly brushed his, that Harry found himself truly lost for words. The water covering your skin was glowing in the dim moonlight, and he tried not to think too much about the few thin pieces of fabric that were separating the two of you.

“I want to try something.” You whispered, eyes flicking away from his for a moment to look up at the sky, before moving down to his again.

His breathing stopped, mind reeling with what you could possibly mean. Although slowly, he let you slip from his grasp and sink deeper into the water a bit, before pushing yourself up from the ground and laying your head back in the water as you moved to float on your back.

Your eyes focused on the stars above you, loving the clear sky and lightly disconnecting from the fact that you were floating in water, instead feeling like you were floating along those stars. You should feel cold by now, but you really didn’t. Your skin burned from where Harry’s skin had just been on yours, if anything you felt hot at the moment.

For what seemed like the thousandth time that night, Harry felt like everything was moving in slow motion. He dragged his eyes down your exposed body, the water on your skin glistening in the dim light. What little clothing you had on was slipping in the water, the swell of your breasts nearly exposed from under the thin fabric as you rested on your back.

He watched your eyes shut, a complete silence seeming to surround the two of you and he felt so completely at peace, deciding to follow suit and move to float gently on his back next to you.

Neither of you really knew how much time was past like this. It could’ve been less than a minute for all you knew, but it felt like an eternity. Like you had fallen asleep and this was your dream.

Eventually though, you woke up. Goosebumps were starting to rise on your skin, the cold of the water finally catching up to you. Moving your leg out to the direction that Harry was, lightly kicking him in the water as you wordlessly regained your footing in the water.

“Getting chilly,” you hummed, hugging your arms to your chest.

Harry truly could not help it when his eyes briefly dropped to where your chest stood out, hoping you didn’t notice or say anything, a deciding to blame his slip up on his state of mind. “Let’s get you warmed up then.”

The two of you wadding out of the water, jumping over to your discarded clothes. You were hit with the realization that all you had with you was you dress. It was long, going down to your shins but it was still sleeveless and probably wouldn’t do that much in keeping you warm, especially with wet skin.

“Did you want my sweatshirt?’ You briefly wondered if you had voiced all your thoughts out loud, as Harry handed his big sweatshirt over to you.

“What about you?”

“I brought my jacket, remember?” He grinned, reaching down to grab the light coat sitting against the sand. “It’s really no trouble,” adding afterwards, obviously noticing you were unsure.

“Okay,” you spoke slowly, realizing you were still nearly naked and quickly pulled on your dress before grabbing his sweatshirt. “Thank you.”

Your dress was sticking to you, nearly uncomfortably but you didn’t mind too much. Harry’s shirt was soft and warm, the perfect thing you needed to be wrapped in right now. You watched Harry pull on his trousers and zipping on his jacket. He looked a bit silly with a jacket and no shirt, but you were not one to comment considering that you were the reason he looked so silly.

You sat down with a sigh, shaking out your hair briefly, not caring that it was going to be a bit of a mess as it dried. Harry sat down next to you, silent for a bit as you both sat unsure of what the next move was.

“Do you want to,” looking over at him for a second, nearly nervous. “Smoke a bit more? Don’t really feel it anymore and this has been one of the nicest highs I’ve had in so long.”

“Sure,” Harry smiled, wiping his hands on his pants. “You’re right, it is really nice. It’s like,” he paused, thinking over his words. “Not completely stoned and out of it, but just relaxed. Feel like all my senses are heighted. My head is clear, but everything is a bit…slow.” Like all my senses are on fire, he wanted to say, but still found it in himself to sensor his words.

“Yeah.” The word was a small whisper from your lips, nodding along as he perfectly described how you felt.

“Plus,” he tapped his leg with yours as you pulled your small pipe from your bag. “Makes it better to get stoned with you. No one else I would float around with.”

Even in the cooler summer air, your body warmed at his words. “Same here.” That was all you could say.

He watched as you picked small buds from the container, quickly shutting your grinder and giving it a good amount of twists until you were satisfied. Nimble fingers plucking the plant from the grinder and placing them in the bowl of the pipe, making sure no ash was stuck in it. Gently placing the closed grinder on your lap, fishing your lighter from your bag and offering him the pipe for the first hit.

Hand wrapping around yours as he grabbed the pipe from you. You watched his lips pucker, bringing the pipe up, quickly flicking the lighter as he inhaled the smoke through the pipe.

There was something about watching someone look so peaceful as the exhaled smoke. Seeing Harry do it though, was always especially nice. He always tilted his head up slightly, jaw tense as he blew the smoke out from parted lips.

Passing it over to you, as you repeated his motions and he repeated yours as he watched you exhale.

Continuing in silence, passing the pipe back and forth a couple more times before you opened back up the grinder to add a few more pieces of the plant. Harry watched you light the bowl again, unable to take his eyes away from where you mouth met the pipe.

He had an idea. One he had had a while back actually, but it seemed to be a much better idea right now. It was the oldest trick in the book. A tale as old as time.

“There’s something I was always curious about,” he started, voice slow as he watched your every move. Turning to him with a lazy grin, handing him the pipe and watched as he fidgeted with the lighter.

“Have you ever shotgunned smoke?”

Your lips curved into a smile, knowing exactly where he was going. “Yeah… years ago when I was younger, like at parties.”

He hummed at your words, slowly nodding. You could practically see the wheels turning in his head, lips pressed to a line as he bit down on them. His eyes were bleary, and hair starting to dry in every direction. “I’ve never tried,” he started slowly. “Always had been curious if it really worked or not.”

You couldn’t help the small laugh, imagining the words he was going to say next. “Can’t really pinpoint if it does…”

“Well,” he shifted his body bit more towards yours. “We could try? You don’t have to of course, I’m just –”

“Curious.” You said the word for him, nodding. “Yeah I – if you want.”

“Okay,” his voice had dropped to nearly a whisper as he tried to not sound too eager. You moved towards him, so that your body was facing him a bit more, while still sitting close enough that your leg brushed his.

He brought the pipe up to his mouth, eyes stuck on yours. He slowly inhaled the smoke, cheeks hollowing and eyes briefly fluttering shut. Keeping his mouth closed as he moved the pipe away from his mouth and brought his other hand to hold a gentle grasp of your jaw.

Your tongue quickly darted out, wetting your lips and leaving them parted. His hand under your chin was warm. He knew very well this was probably some kind of line that would be crossed, but that was kind of the point, wasn’t it?

Titling his head down, mouth parting open to meet yours. His eyes shut closed, knowing this technically wasn’t a real kiss but wanting to treat it as such.

Your lips were soft and warm, and for a moment he forgot that he was supposed to be passing the smoke from his mouth to yours, and not kiss into your mouth until he couldn’t breath.

Harry was always warm around you. Being wrapped in his sweatshirt, having his hand on your jaw, and having his mouth against yours had you burning hot. You could feel him start to pull away from you after passing the smoke from his mouth to yours, and you couldn’t help but pucker your lips the slightest bit.

He was sure he imagined it. Your lips had barely moved against his, he wasn’t sure if it was real or not. It was as if you were about to kiss him, as if your lips were about to pucker and slide against his.

Instead, he moved his on yours. All very brief and very light, he kept his hand by your jaw and held you in place, just as you made no sign of moving away. Pressing just a small kiss on your parted lips, letting his mouth linger on yours before slowly moving away.

Watching you blink your eyes open as he did the same, completely unable to help the small smirk that grew on his lips. Letting out a little breath as the smoke escaped your mouth, unable to look away from Harry.

There was a moment of silence between the two of you, a moment a bit too long.

He broke the silence with a little laugh. “Did you… feel anything?”

You knew he was talking about the weed, on the surface he was anyway. But you also knew that he was so obviously hinting at something more, at that little almost kiss and you couldn’t find it in yourself to form one coherent thought.

“Yeah,” seemed to be the only thing you could utter right now, stuck in some kind of staring contest with him. His hand moved from your jaw, shifting a bit to sit back in his original position. You were a bit fucked out, more than a bit.

The high was the kind that made you feel calm, like you floated when you walked. Like you were sitting on a cloud instead of having to use your limbs. And, it was the kind of high that made every glance and touch that much more electric, every conversation that much more intimate.

And now sitting so close to Harry, neither of you speaking and seemingly stuck in this trance with each other, you felt like your entire body was on fire.

Though the longer the silence went on, the calmer you got and soon you were nearly laughing to yourself for no apparent reason. Relaxing in your seated position, leaning up against the log behind your backs.

Nearly at the same time, each of you looked down to the pipe that remained in Harry’s hand. Noticing it was mostly ash, and that you had both probably had enough to smoke, you decided to pack it all back up.

“Think I’ve had enough,” you hummed, feeling your high settle in nicely. Harry nodded, twisting his body around to knock out the ash from the pipe behind him. “Same here. Also I’m really starting to feel the cold.”

“You good to head back?” Brushing your hands on your dress, gathering everything up in your tote bag before turning over to Harry.

Nodding, suddenly remembering that he would be staying over at yours. That conversation felt like ages ago, like the two of you were two completely different people now than you were before. “That sounds good.”

The walk back was even quicker, both talking about whatever came to mind. You were aware of the way his arm kept brushing against yours, the way he would slightly pause the conversation when you would glance up at him.

Leading Harry up the steps that led to your door, relaxing once you entered your studio and immediately grabbing two glasses of water as you guys had emptied the bottles you brought.

“I think I have some clothes you could borrow.” You mused, finishing water as you watched Harry from across your kitchen. “Some baggy basketball shorts that I have.”

“I’m sure it’ll do,” Harry laughed, suddenly remembering how uncomfortable he was in his current clothes. His boxers had dried since your swim, but his pants still felt damp and sticky to his skin, and he wasn’t about to sleep in just his jacket. Or even his sweatshirt, but he was more than fine leaving that with you if that’s what you wanted.

You disappeared around a corner, no doubt going to look for the shorts in question. You had easily found them, happy to be true to your word, and grabbed a shirt and shorts for yourself to change into.

“Hope they fit,” you hummed, oddly aware by how quiet your apartment was. “Did you want to shower or anything?”

He shook his head, big smiling still playing on his lips. “I probably should, but I honestly really don’t feel like a shower right now.”

“I get that,” you agreed with a laugh. “The washroom is right over there. Towels in the cupboard under the sink if you need one, feel free to use anything in there.”

He only smiled over at you again, before heading to the direction that you pointed him to. You knew that you always felt a bit uneasy when you were staying over at someone’s house unplanned, especially if you had never stayed at their house before. You hoped Harry felt comfortable.

While he was in the washroom, you cleaned up the clothes that were haphazardly thrown across your floor by your bed, making sure there were enough pillows and blankets. He quickly reappeared, in nothing but that pair of your shorts.

They fit him okay, clearly a bit snug on him but you pretended not to notice. Placing his clothes on your counter, watching as you stood back up to face him. His hair was sticking up all around his face, very much unstyled after getting wet and drying outside.

“So, my couch is obviously really small,” you murmured. “It’s easiest to just share the bed, if that’s good with you.”

“Yeah of course,” he couldn’t help the smile at the thought of sharing a bed with you all night long. You nodded, telling him to make himself comfortable as you went to change in the washroom. You didn’t realize how high you were in that moment until you caught sight of yourself in the mirror.

Your eyes heavy and red, hair a mess, looking a bit silly in a long dress and big sweatshirt. Unable to help the laugh that overtook your body, washing your face and teeth before changing. You blinked slowly in the mirror, unable to focus on any aspect of your face as you always thought it was so weird when you were faced with your appearance under the influence.

Shaking any odd thought out of your head, and leaving the washroom to find Harry already made at home in your bed. He was off to one side, phone in hand and under the blanket.

Harry’s eyes jumped to you as the bathroom door swung open. You looked warm, even in a teeshirt and shorts, but you looked calm and relaxed and it made him ease onto your mattress as bit more. You sent him a smile, turning off the light by your washroom but keeping your bedside lamps on. He noticed you had quite a few lamps though your place, oddly placed around where your bed was.

“Did you want a snack, or want to watch something or…?” You trailed off, ever the host even if you couldn’t fully process your thoughts.

“I’m okay, just kinda nice to sit back y’know?” He acted as if he was tired, although oddly feeling the most awake he’d been all day.

You slid into the sheets next to him with a little nod, glad he agreed with you. Although, you felt like it was quiet, so quiet. Didn’t you usually talk more? You couldn’t remember. Being stoned with Harry was something that had happened countless times, and you were always comfortable with him, but right now you couldn’t help feel the slightest bit nervous.

The bed was soft around you, the faint smell of sandalwood incense lingering in the air. As soon as you settled in next to Harry, leaving a gap, you felt slightly more intoxicated. You knew you weren’t, that it was just the fact that you were finally lying down without any distractions (except for the man next to you), that the weed made its full affect known to you.

Making yourself comfortable on your mattress, completely in your own head.

Your nervousness was fully realized, when the feeling of the dull ache building between your thighs made itself completely known. Something that happened after smoking and was very much not helped by the memory of Harry’s lips pressed against yours, and apparently as soon as you fully relaxed next to him it, made itself known.

The subtle throbbing was overly distracting, attempting to squeeze your thighs together subtly and trying not to think about it. Realizing you hadn’t said anything in a bit, only readjusting yourself and squirming in the bed next to Harry.

“Are you okay?”

Harry’s voice was low and if anything, it made you feel even more antsy.

“Yeah,” muttering, as you shifted on the bed again and moved onto your side with the pillow pressing against your cheek. “Its just kind of… hot.”

If he caught the double meaning in your words, he didn’t say anything. Instead, he mentally paused for a second before his hand moved without his mind. He shifted a bit so that he could fully face you, as he brought his hand over to you and brushed his fingertips along your cheek.

“Burning hot,” he whispered, eyes focused on yours as he watched every reaction you had to him. You blinked quickly at his touch, just as he shifted on the mattress as well to lay facing you.

He trailed his fingers away from your face and down to your shoulder. Rubbing small little circles over your arm, moving along any line and curve in skin and muscle that was exposed to him.

“Feel’s nice,” you murmured, eyes shutting gently. Not so much in exhaust but in content. And although the feeling of his skin on yours was sending continuous little jolts through and under your skin, you didn’t want him to stop. It definitely wasn’t helping with the ache between your thighs, praying he didn’t notice at the way you shifted slightly to squeeze your legs together.

His fingers trailed along your folded arm, moving down to your hand that was resting by your face on the mattress. No words were shared, but you moved your palm to face upwards and let him play with your hand.

Mindlessly playing with each others fingers, your eyes peaking open as you grabbed his fingers in your hand, lightly tracing lines up his palm. Flipping his hand around in yours, tracing around and playing with the rings that he was still wearing.

Index finger trailing over his individual digits, your lip slipping between your teeth. You always noticed his hands, always working quickly when rolling joints, holding you warmly, and now toying with yours mindlessly as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

“What are you thinking?” Harry apparently knew you better than you realized, and maybe it had been slightly odd that you were completely silent. He could see your eyes flick over his skin, narrowing and brow furrowing every once and a while.

Your bleary eyes jumped up to his own, pausing as you registered his question. “I – it’s nothing.”

“Seems like its something,” he murmured, hand squeezing your own.

“It’s a secret,” weakly stated, watching Harry’s lips twitch with a smile at your feeble words.

“I’ll tell you one if you tell me yours,” he muttered, eyes flicking away from yours for a moment. You laughed lightly at the juvenile nature of his words, finding yourself agreeing to him.  

“Okay…”

Your hesitation only made him more curious. His eyes narrowed on you, anticipating your answer and watching every thought run across your features. “I – the high, the weed, it made me a bit… hot.”

“Y’already said that.” Harry was surprised by how hoarse his voice came out, mind jumping to conclusions about what you meant (even though he was right).

“I mean,” you couldn’t hold his intense eyes anymore. “Hot. You know… randy.”

He spluttered a laugh at your choice of words. “Randy?”

Your hand left his, covering half of your face with it instead with a little laugh. “It’s embarrassing.”

Although it really wasn’t. And you would be way more embarrassed if it wasn’t for your state of intoxication, and if it wasn’t for the fact that you were fairly sure Harry was feeling the same way.

And he was. Had been all night in fact, had been every time the two of you shared a bowl and you sat just a little too close to him, or stared at his mouth just a little too long.

“You said you had a secret too.” Your voice broke Harry out of his reverie. You were barely peaking up at him, and Harry once again felt like he was living in a movie, scenes unfolding in front of his eyes in slow motion.

“I can’t stop thinking about your lips.”

He propped himself up on his elbow a bit, able to fully glance down at you. You blinked quickly at his words, rolling over to your back seemingly deep in thought. You looked perfectly fucked out, eyes heavy and a big lazy smile lining your lips. “And what about it?”

He wanted to wipe that stupid smirk from your mouth. “Need to kiss you again.”

Suddenly your hand was behind his neck, prompting him to lower his face down until his mouth gently slotted over yours. His mouth was just as warm as it was before, softly kissing onto your top lip as he leant his body over yours.

You rolled towards him a bit, as his chest covered yours, legs lying next to yours on the mattress. The hand that wasn’t holding him up came down to your cheek, thumb brushing over your skin. Lips sliding over his, letting his tongue lazily brush against your mouth.

Sigh making its way from the back of his throat, reveling in the way you felt against him. Unable to get this out of his head since he shotgunned that smoke, since the beginning of the night, since the past couple of months in fact, finally happy to have under him with your lips pressed together.

Your fingers were weaving through his hair, other hand grabbing at his arm and tracing blind drawings on his skin. Kisses were growing deeper from soft sucking lips, grazing into each other mouths. He was sweet, like a raspberry, not too sugary and just sour enough to make you want more.

You didn’t realize you were gasping for air until he briefly pulled away, eyes fluttering open and lips curving to a lazy smile while peering down at you. His breath was heavy against yours, body sliding over a bit more so that his leg pushed its away between yours, not completely crushing you.

Another second passed, before you were chasing his mouth again. Easily falling back into the heavy kisses you were sharing, pulling more and more out of each other until soft whimpers were being shared between your mouths.

You don’t know if it was the weed or just Harry – probably a bit of both – but every touch on your skin was like a little jolt of hypersensitivity. His hand had moved down your arm again, grabbing at your waist, your hip, until his fingertips were just pushing up under your shirt and gently rubbing into the skin at your side. His bare legs were tangled with yours, not yet brushing where you were burning for him but making you feel like your legs ended and his began, not a single ounce of distance between your bodies.

And his mouth, his pretty mouth that you so often watched wrap around the butt of a joint, or the end of a pipe, was making you feel like you were in a dream. Moistened lips never leaving yours, experimenting with you as they pushed and pulled on your own. Teeth nipping you bottom lip, quickly peppering small kisses against your mouth before licking deeply into your mouth again; it felt like you might pass out from the overwhelming sense of his kisses.

You marveled in the way he grunted when you pulled on his hair, or whined when you moved your lips away form his for even a second. He was so enamoured with the way you pushed your chest up with a little back arch as his fingers gripped your particularly tight, and the soft woodsy scent of your room mingled with your sweet perfume.

He felt completely woozy with every sensation of you.

Just as he was running out of breath once again, he felt your hand snake up from his arm up to his shoulder. “Wait,” you breathed out against Harry, patting his shoulder. He quickly retreated from your mouth, eyes flicking between yours.

“Sorry I –” he cut himself off at your breathy giggle and wide smile.

You smacked your lips together, accentuating your point. “My mouth feels really dry.”

“Oh,” Harry breathed out a little giggle, head dipping down slightly. “Mine too.”

“I’ll grab us some water.” You patted his chest again, wordlessly telling him to move off of you. He complied easily, rolling over to his side and watched you slowly push yourself off the mattress, feet hitting the floor.

Your hair was untamed from your dip in the water earlier, eyes glazed over and lips kissed even darker. Harry watched the fabric of your shorts ride up your thighs, exposing just the slightest bit of your backside and his mind whirled with the memory of you nearly naked with him in the water.

Taking a second before pushing himself up from the bed, following to where you stood in the kitchen filling up two glasses of water. Silently handing him one of them, keeping his gaze with a little smile dancing on your lips while you brought the glass up to your mouth.

Tipping the glass back, he mirrored your motion and watched as you quickly finished up the water. Bringing the back of your hand to wipe at the water on the corner of your mouth, Harry didn’t know why the small and mundane move made even more blood rush to his bulge.

Refilling your cup, finishing off your second glass before turning back to Harry. His hair was sticking out every direction, eyes a bit red and small smile permanently etched on his lips. He reached out a hand across the kitchen, silently asking for you to place your own hand in his.

He pulled you towards him, laughing as you spun on your feet a bit until he had both his arms around you again. His bum hitting the counter behind him as he leant against it, pulling you close into his chest as you mirrored his actions and wrapped your arms around his middle.

“Feel better?” Chest vibrated against yours as he spoke.

“Yeah,” your voice was a whisper. “Mouth feels… wet.”

“Wet?” His eyebrows shot up, dimples on full display at his wide smile. “I like the sound of that.”

It was very apparent to you that he liked the sound of that, his hard bulge very obvious in the too small shorts you gave him, and even more apparent when his pressed his hips against your thigh. You only hummed at his words, reveling in your closeness as your nails dug into the bare skin of his back.

His lips quickly found yours again, wanting to pick up right where you left off. You weren’t giving him back the same fervour, pressing smaller pecks to his mouth and letting him chase your mouth. His lips brushed over yours but you tilted your head away as soon as he leaned it for more, hushed giggled leaving your parted lips.

A little groan building in the back of Harry’s throat at your teasing, seeking out your mouth. Growing impatient, he held you tight and in one motion spun you around so that you were now the one against the counter, trapped in by Harry’s body.

“Much better,” he muttered against your lips, catching the little smirk that he had every intention of kissing away.

You sighed beautifully against him, pressing your hips against his own and feeling the very prominent bulge that had been growing in his pants ever since your little dip in the water. Every inch of him that was on you was sending a new wave of heat under your skin. Unable to distinguish what was real and what was an effect of the weed making you feel like Kissing Harry was the only thing to keep you alive.

And then he was kissing you again. One hand still gripped at your hip, while the other moved to cup your face and tilt it towards his. His lips slid against yours slowly, kiss growing in fervour very quickly. Your hands found their way back to his hair, tugging and scratching your nails along his scalp.

Pitched whine was pulled from your mouth, his warm chest pressed against you, kiss a bit frenzied as hands seemed unable to rest on one spot on your body. Grabbing at your hip, sliding over to your ass with a little squeeze and prompted you to push your hips against his.

Other hand sliding up under your thin shirt, fingers rubbing into the skin of your tummy. His lips moved to press kisses along your cheek, urging your head to tilt back until he was licking and biting at the sensitive skin of your neck. His mouth was hot on you, whispers of your name while you whined up at the ceiling. Head dipping down until his mouth met the collar of your shirt, taking his sweet time to memorize the sweet smell of your skin and every spot that made you whimper his name.

Suddenly stepping back from you, your eyes fluttered open as if in a haze while you searched for his touch again. He was standing just a couple inches away from you, hands still resting at your sides under your shirt.

“Let’s get this off of you, baby.” He whispered, pulling tightly on the fabric of your shirt.

Lifting your arms up in the air a bit, surprised by how heavy they felt, you tilted your head at him. “Help me?”

He didn’t need to be asked twice. Hands slowly pushing up under your shirt, bunching up the fabric while he exposed more of your skin. Brushing over the swell of your breasts, lifting your arms a bit higher to allow him to pull the garment over you completely.

Shirt ending up on the counter next to you, forgotten completely when Harry’s eyes roamed over your skin. The bralette that you were swimming in already left little to the imagination, but no daydream or fantasy could do you justice.

“You are,” he sighed, closing the little gap once again as his thumbs ran over the underside of your breasts. “A dream.”

His hands palmed over your chest while he kissed you, your teeth clashing as you whispered your name against him.

Taking your time kissing him, hand sliding over the expanse of his back before you reached the small curls hanging above his neck, tugging on them between your fingers. He was licking into your mouth, pulling soft sighs from the back of your throat while he kept you pinned against the counter with his hips.

Hand on the band of the shorts he was borrowing, you slid a finger underneath and quickly released it to snap the elastic against his skin. “Come back to bed?”

You had caught him slightly off guard, pushing against his chest so that he took a step back and you slid out from between him and the counter, pulling at the waistband of his shorts again.

Shooting him one more glance over your shoulder, starting to walk the short distance back to the bed. He quickly followed suit, pitched gasp leaving your lips as he took you by surprise, arms gripping you tight and pulling you onto the bed with him.

Falling on the mattress on top of him, readjusting yourself so that you had a leg on either side of his waist, your bare chests pressed against one another.

“Quite like you like this,” Harry hummed, as your lips kissed at his jaw. Leaving small bites on the side of his neck, moaning at the way his hand moved to grab your ass, giving it a light smack.

Clothed core rolling against his crotch when he repeated the action, spurring you on while your mouth kept working on the skin under his jaw. “Like you like this very much.”

You had nearly forgotten about your state of intoxication, until Harry wrapped his arms tight around your waist and sat up. You shifted down bit on him, straddling his lap as the two of you sat so closely intertwined. You didn’t even register the movement until seconds later, your mind needing to slow down from the quick movement.

“You good?” You face must’ve expressed your dazed mind, while Harry’s quiet voice broke you out of your reverie.

“Yes,” you said, unable to help the little laugh the accompanied your every word. “The weed is just… this is such a nice high.”

“It really is,” Harry hummed, while you dipped your head down and ghosted your lips over his shoulder.

“Do you remember that time I got so spaced out, couldn’t hold a conversation?” You giggled, lips brushing his neck as you moved your head away and kept you arms wrapped around his shoulders.

Shifting on his lap a bit, chest resting against his as you couldn’t help the laugh that was building at the memory. His thumbs rubbed parallel circles in the spot above your hips, lips smoothing over your hairline. “Which time?” He was quite frankly finding it hard to think of anything else at this moment.

“There were a few,” you nodded, head moving away from the crook of his neck. “But with those edibles, those chocolate cookies remember? There were walnuts or something in them.”

You shifted on him, lifting yourself up for a second to straighten out your legs, completely sitting on his lap and wrapping your legs around his hips to have the two of you sitting pressed against the other. Harry sucked his lips in between his teeth, as you moved over just where he wanted you to.

“Those one’s yes,” his shoulders shook with a laugh. “I’d never seen you so out of it, was a bit worried.”

Tightening your thighs around him, squeezing him lightly. “I fell asleep practically on top of you,” murmuring softly, recalling when he had let you have his bed since you weren’t having a good high.

Your laughter had more or less died down, smile hadn’t left your lips all night and it was the last thing he saw before his eyes fluttered shut when you moved in to kiss him again. You hummed softly against him, Harry’s hands rubbing up and down your bare sides, before sliding all the way down and dug his fingertips into the skin of your bum.

Grinding your centre over his bulge, soft moan building in Harry’s throat at the tight pressure. The only way you could be any closer to him in this moment was if the two thin layers of clothing were removed, which you were promptly working on.

Your legs wrapped all the way around him, hips rolling against his as his hands guided you over him. You were sighing into his mouth, teeth biting into his top lip before he dipped his head down to kiss under your jaw.

And suddenly, hands that let go of your skin pushed you back against the mattress. You blinked in your daze, eyes trailing up over Harry as he sat up on his knees, before swiftly hovering back over you. Lips finding their place on your neck once again, humming against you.

Whimpering as his mouth moved down over your chest, lips circling around your nipple with a harsh suck. Your hands flew to his shoulders, fingertips trailing up to play with his hair while his mouth moved over are your exposed skin.

Warm and wet kisses followed suit, open mouth lightly biting down on your skin. He was whispering mindless things against you, just making out small praises.

Your hips were lifting against nothing in the air, urging him to pull off the little shorts as his lips trailed over your stomach. Large hand grabbing at your thigh, pushing it out as his head moved past right where you wanted him and his lips kissed up your thigh instead.

“Harry,” his name was a whine leaving your lips.

His eyes flitted up to your face for a second, mentally kicking himself for not doing it sooner. Your bottom lip was firmly lodged between your teeth, eyes barely open but a little smile still playing at your lips. He thought you looked fucked out before, but this was something completely new.

“What do you want?” Open mouth biting down at your thigh, quickly licking over the spot as your hips jolted again.

“You. Please,” you propped yourself up a bit on an elbow. “Touch me.”

Harry didn’t need to be told twice. He hooked his thumbs in the band of your shorts, your hips quickly jolting up to help him pull them over your hips. Quickly pulling them down, flicking them aside without a care once they were pulled over your feet.

“Truly a dream,” Harry’s mouth dropped, shamelessly dragging his eyes over every inch of your body. Hand quickly back on you, pushing your legs apart until your knees hit the mattress. “A dream,” he repeated, leaning back down towards you. His lips on your inner most sensitive skin of your thigh, hands holding your hips tightly.

One of your hands smoothed over your own stomach, fingertips just over where you wanted to feel him. You could feel his breath hitting your skin, a sharp inhale as your middle finger teased yourself just above your clit. “What exactly are you doing?”

“Just,” your voice was a moan. “Showing you what I want.”

“Christ,” the word came deep from the back of his throat, prompting you to lift yourself up a bit and watch him. He didn’t move from his spot between your thighs, cheek resting just on your sensitive inner leg with his palms spread over your hips, watching your fingers move down through your folds.

“Is this what you do after we smoke together?” His voice was slow, deep – dark eyes unwavering from you. You felt his breath hit your skin, hips jolting a bit as you tugged harsher circles onto your clit. “Can’t wait to fall into bed with your fingers under your dress?”

You could only moan at his words, feeling the heat of his chest on your legs and his fingers brush against your thighs, but nothing more. “Tell me, do you ever think about me?”

“Yes,” the word was a quick pant, answering him truthfully. His finger gripped you tighter at your answer, barley audible swear to himself.

Middle finger slowly dipping down, feeling how slick you were before moving back up to circle around your clit. You jolted at the feeling, falling back against the mattress with your eyes fluttering shut and Harry’s name on your lips.

“And what do you think about?” His voice was slow, the smirk on his lips nearly audible. “Tell me baby.”

“How you would feel,” you spoke in one long breath. “You – your fingers, your mouth.”

It wasn’t until you slowly pushed your finger into where you were aching, that he grabbed hold of your wrist. “Let me do that,” he hissed, pulling your hand away from yourself and slipping his mouth around the finger that had been playing with yourself.

He hummed around it, getting his first taste of you and only wanting more.

Soon that hand was weaved through his hair, as his tongue pushed through where your finger had been and he circled his lips around your clit. “That’s it,” you gasped, when his teeth just grazed over the sensitive bud, tongue smoothing over it.

“Could do this all day,” Harry’s voice was muffled, getting nearly as much out of this as you were. “You were right about being wet.” Soon his fingers joined his mouth, soaking in your wetness before pushing through your core. Every whine was laced with his name, spurring him on at your praise.

He only hummed against you, just as his lips circled around your swollen clit eliciting a sharp cry at the end of your praise. Fingers pulling tightly in his already messy locks, not caring about the roughness of your actions in the moment. All you could focus on was how you felt completely on fire by the way Harry touched you

Sucking harshly around your clit, hand that was trialing up your thigh joining his tongue as it pushed through your folds, finger slowly pushing into you. He reveled in the way you were slick around him, clenching around him at the new contact. “Oh… !”

Single finger quickly curling up and hitting that spot that made your eyes squeeze shut, noticing the way you reacted right away. “That’s it, yeah? Is it good?”

“So good.” Your hips bucked with his hand. But you wanted more, his finger wasn’t enough inside of you and you were certain he would feel so thick and heavy inside of you. Gently nudging his head up, calling his name over.

“Can we,” you panted, “I mean – I want to fuck you.”

That caught his attention. He blinked slowly, your words circling around his head. “I –” he found himself speechless. “Yes, I want you.”

Scrambling up to his knees, as you sat up as well, both breathless and wordlessly facing each other for a second. “I don’t have a condom.”

His expression faltered at your words, quickly realizing he also didn’t have one. “Me neither…”

“I have an implant. I’m checked out I’m good… I – want to feel you.”

“Fuck me, darling you…” this for sure had to be a dream. “Are you sure?”

Your hands slid up his sides, resting at his shoulders as you pulled him in for a heavy kiss. “Yes.”

It was your turn to push him back, hands immediately reaching for the band of the tight shorts and pulling them down. Throwing them aside with your own shorts, watching his length fall free. Your mouth was probably hanging open, you didn’t care. He was a dream.

You didn’t even realize you were moving your hands towards him until you saw them wrap around him, thumb brushing over his bulging red tip as you smoothed over the bit of precum. Harry couldn’t take his eyes off of you, watching in awe while you slowly pumped your hand around him.

Leg swinging around his to straddled him, wet core grinding down over him. You leant to trap Harry’s mouth in a kiss, while his hands gripped your sides tightly before sliding down to your hips. One hand still around him, glancing down as you lifted your hips.

Both of you were watching the way that you sank down around him, slowly but surely taking every inch in. “Baby I –” Harry hissed, restraining himself from bucking up into you.

The pressure burned, but not in a bad way. Maybe if you were sober you would need a bit more time to get use to him, but right now you just needed more of him. “Oh my god,” your voice was pitched, eyes shut as you felt him twitch inside of you.

Bottoming out, you felt him deep in your stomach as he hit spots you didn’t know were possible. “God, ‘s full.”

His hands found their place on your bum, squeezing tightly when you made your move on top of him, slowly rolling your hips around him. Your own hands were flat on his stomach, giving yourself leverage as you started to move up on him.

“That’s it,” he hissed, watching you sink back down, slowly getting a feel for him. You were circling your hips, grinding and rolling on him. It felt too good he forced his eyes to stay open, not wanting to miss a second of the sight in front of him.

Watching the way he disappeared underneath you, the way your breasts moved, the way your head was titled back slightly. He knew it was impossible but he wanted to keep you in this moment forever.

It was when he bucked up into you that your eyes rolled back with a moan. Repeating the action at your reaction, holding onto you tightly as he thrusted upwards into, while you rolled against him. Managing to hit inside of you so wonderfully, feeling yourself stretch out just for him. “Fuck Harry.”

The pressure he was creating in the pit of your stomach was already building, your hips moving together as you both felt on fire from every touch, every whimper, every moan of the others name. “My name – y’sound so good saying my name.” His words were strangled, you weren’t even sure you were hearing him correctly.

“Harry,” whining as a hand smoothed over your ass, urging you on top of him while his other hand grasped at your chest.

Low moan breaking the noise of your pants, your walls fluttering around Harry as you quickly found yourself being pushed closer and closer to your orgasm. Unabashedly chasing the high, the burn between your legs stronger than you think you’d ever felt it.

You knew part of that was from the drug previously smoked, but another big part of that was from the man lying under you. Harry fit so perfectly with you, fucking you so well you couldn’t even begin to think about it.

Hovering down over him, open mouth pressing messy kisses up his jaw until your mouth was on his, slowing down your motions of your hips for a moment as the two of you got lost against each other’s lips.

Harry’s thrust nearly stopping, the slow roll of your hips being the only source of friction while you tasted him for the thousandth time that night, still not finding yourself getting enough.

It was when his hand on your ass smacked your skin lightly, that he started to spur you on again. Teeth clashing with yours as he spoke against your mouth, praising you endlessly. “Look so fucking good around me baby.”

Moaning into his mouth, rising yourself up with your hands played out over his chest, rising your hips up and down over him again until your heart rate sped up again and you couldn’t help but pant.

Harry couldn’t believe the sight before his eyes. Every noise you made was music to his ears, as his fingertips dug into your skin and thrusted his hips against yours, looking for the spot that made you curl around him.

He knew you were close, and he wanted more than anything than to see you completely thrown back on top of him. Moving one of his hands around your hip, smoothing over the bottom of your stomach, sliding his fingertips over your skin until they made contact with your clit.

You were already so worked up from the way his mouth had moved against your cunt, from even before then when the two of you lay close together in bed, from even before then when the two of you swam together.

One of his hands sliding around your hips from your ass to your stomach, pressing tightly onto your lower abdomen until his hands cupped over you. Fingers finding your clit easily once again, your chest jolting forward at the sharp jolt of pleasure the new contact made you feel.

“Want you to come.” His words were hoarse, slick fingers pushing rough circles around your clit until you dropped down a bit against him, arms shaking by your sides. “Please baby.”

And then your eyes were peering into his, red and bleary with your skin burning hot. “Harry I –” mouth falling agape, not being able to find any words at the moment, when yours and Harry’s hips moved in sync, the tip of his cock hitting inside of you so perfectly and his fingers on your clit giving you just the extra push you needed.

His other hand was gripping the skin of you ass, fingertips digging crescent shaped marks into the skin as he rocked your hips with his. Lips were ghosting over your neck, with your own not far away, nearly biting down into his shoulder.

And soon you were shaking on top of him, whimpering his name unashamedly as your walls fluttered around him. Your thighs clenched him tight, vision going dark and you didn’t realize at first that it was because your eyes were squeezed shut.

Harry was muttering into the skin of your shoulder, sweet words of praise. “Look so fucking good, you are a dream,” moaning your name deeply, holding you tight against him as both your motions slowed a bit while you rode out your high.

Eyes reopening after a beat, lifting your head to look down at him. His fingers were still working slow circles on your clit, skin far too sensitive as you jolted against him. You wanted to say so much to him, yet found not ability to think of what to say or even how to speak.

So instead, your open mouth slid over his, messy kisses shared before you hoisted yourself back up so that he was hitting so deeply inside of you, knees digging into the mattress to start to move against him again.

“Fuck me so well,” Harry’s head was pushed back into the pillows behind him, skin clammy and shining, tattoos looking even better in the dim light. His hair was sprawled out and around his face messily, his lips kissed deep raspberry. Truly something out of a fantasy.

He moved slower with you than earlier, hips just rising from the mattress to meet your thrusts in languid motions. There surely should be a cramping feeling in your knees, but you didn’t feel it, or more so couldn’t. All you could focus on was the way your walls fluttered tightly around Harry, already feeling the dull burning of a second orgasm.

“’s sensitive,” you moaned as his fingers never stopped on your clit, urging you along with him as he knew his own orgasm would not be far behind.

“Take me in so well baby, wish you could see yourself,” his eyes glued to every inch of your skin, especially where he was so intimately connected to you, cock disappearing into you. “How do you feel?”

“Too good,” you cried, overly sensitive but still finding yourself wanted more and more and more from Harry.

“Want you to cum again.”

“Harry…” the feeling was overwhelming; you didn’t know if you even could.

“Feel so good cumming around me, please,” his voice was unbelievably hoarse, lips tight between his teeth.

The deep fire was building in you again, even stronger this time and Harry was very aware of it by the way to you clenched tightly around him. He wanted to see you come undone so badly, sucking in his breath and doing everything in his power to slow down his own release.

You lifted yourself on him, pace quickening a bit as he pressed you on. He was rubbing so tightly in you, the two of you truly finding your grove as he repeatedly hit the spongy spot that made you see stars.

“Cum for me,” he said, as if it was a chant. “Need you to.”

You were so overstimulated; you didn’t even know what to do. “I don’t know if – fuck Harry it’s so much.”

Falling back onto his chest slightly, hitting a new angle inside that made you move quick short thrusts on top of him.

His lips quickly found your skin, sucking and biting onto your neck as he wanted nothing more than to have you come undone around him for the second time. Your name sounded heavenly as he moaned it.

You knew he was not far behind, his motions getting more and more sporadic, sound of slapping skin filling the room as his chest heaved. “Please.”

And then you were pushed over the edge again, jolting so quickly against him it nearly scared him. You fell completely against him, bare chest pressed tight onto his it trapped his arm. The moan that came from deep in your chest was barely human, breathy and loud and Harry knew it would be playing on replay in his head for the rest of his life.

“Thank you thank you thank you.” Harry’s orgasm followed suit quickly after yours, not being able to hold back when you clenched to tightly around him he could barely move. Slow thrusts he released inside of you, feeling his cock twitch with every drop.

He slid his hand from between your body’s, falling to his side on the mattress as neither of you made another move, chests moving quickly as you tried to catch your breath. You could’ve passed out right then and there, completely content with Harry as close as he could possibly be.

Slowly blinking your eyes open, head moving up to gaze down at Harry. Teary eyes blurring your vision slightly, offering him a sly smile as you shifted off a him with a heavy sigh.

“That was…” Harry’s voice cracked as he turned his head towards you, unable to take his eyes off of you “Better than I could’ve dreamt.”

                                                           ***

The first thing you felt when you woke up was the same grogginess you always had after a restful night sleep. That, along with a strong arm wrapped around your middle, some breaths gracing your neck.

The second thing you felt was a slight panic of not knowing what time it was.

Fearing maybe you had overslept and might be running late for work, you scrambled up in bed while you tried to figure out whether or not there was a shift to get to.

Your sudden action had stirred Harry in his sleep, groggy eyes peeking open at your from where he laid next to you on the bed.

“Wha’s wrong?”

Deep voice pulled your attention away from your confused thoughts about which day was it really, feeling the mattress shift as Harry rose to a seated position.

You felt his breath hit your shoulder, an arm circling around you and lips on the nape of your neck. “I have to get to work.”

“You do?” His lips trailed across your neck, chest pressing against your back as he his craned around to rest his chin on your shoulder.

“Yes – fuck.” You sprang up suddenly, catching sight of the mainly decorative clock that you had hanging up on the opposite side of your studio.

Rising to your feet, Harry’s arms falling down to the mattress as the two of you lost contact. It wasn’t out of nowhere that you’d smoke on a night before you had to get up and get ready for work, after all it was a half day shift today but you were usually in bed and fast asleep not too late.

“I’m really sorry,” you called out from behind you, as you quickly dug through your drawers to look for a new pair of underwear. “I completely forgot…”

“Don’t worry about it,” Harry spoke softly from where he sat on the bed. He didn’t voice it of course, but he really did wish you could crawl back in bed with him. By the looks of the hazy orange sky, the day was just starting and he’d much rather start it with his arms wrapped around you.

It really was no worries, you couldn’t do anything about the fact that you had to get to work. Rising up to his feet, watching you half naked scurry around your studio in search of clothes to wear, pulling them on and then quickly off against as you seemed to change your ideas about your outfit.

You rushed off to the washroom, mentally scolding yourself for not showring last night, at least to get refreshed. Realizing that your hair was what it was, not able or having the time to tame it all that much and did what you could.

Quickly going through your routine, brushing your teeth and dotting on some makeup, re-emerging from the washroom to find Harry dressed and helping himself to some water.

“I’m sorry,” you repeated, as he turned to face you at the noise of the washroom door opening.

He beamed at you, quickly placing his glass back down on the counter. “Don’t be, really no need to apologize. Can I drop you off or anything?”

You paused, returning his smile. “Yeah that’d be great actually! Thank you.”

And soon you were sitting in the passenger seat of his car, giving him directions to you work. You wished your morning hadn’t started like this, you wished that you could stay in bed and have some coffee with Harry, but instead you were a disaster rushing off to work.

He got you there in record time, even with a few minutes to spare, just before 8. Bag in hand, facing Harry with a sheepish smile. “I’m sorry again…”

“Stop apologizing, darling.” And although he was ever so accommodating to rushing you off to work, he still missed you touch on his.

Just as you were reaching for the door handle of the car, his hand gripped your forearm. “Wait! Just –”

And he was leaning over the center console, other hand cup your jaw and was pulling your lips to his. “Just wanted another taste.”

Leaving a short sweet kiss to your lips, breaking away with a grin and the minty taste of your toothpaste. “I’ll see you soon.” Returning his sentiment, the image of his wide grin etched into your brain for the rest of the day.

Thinking over the previous night; the smoking, the swimming, the sex.

It all seemed too good to be true, but the left over feeling of Harry’s lips on yours very much reminded you that it was real, and you really couldn’t help the little smile that grew at the thought of it.

The ghost feeling of his body underneath yours, his hands gripping your tightly and his lips moving all over your skin. It was something you had secretly thought about before, usually in an inebriated state after sharing a pipe with Harry, and you were truly hoping Harry felt the same.

                                                          ***

You didn’t get that confirmation until nine days later, both finding time in your schedules to head back to that little beach by your place.

He greeted you on the sidewalk in front of your apartment like last time, sunglasses on and big smile adorning his lips. “Hey,” extending an arm out, inviting you in for a little hug.

“You look nice,” he muttered into your hair, as you circled your arm around him.

“Thank you,” you hummed, both starting the small walk that led to the water from your street. You easily fell into conversation, catching up over small things like how work was going and anecdotes about your mutual friends.

The both of you made yourselves comfortable at that same spot you had last time, laying out the tapestry to sit on.

“I brought snacks,” you reached over to your back, pulling out a couple containers – some filled with fruits and another one with crackers and hummus. “

“Stunning,” Harry reached for the food you had pulled out, reaching for the cut orange slices.

“Did you want to smoke, or…?” Harry’s expression didn’t change as you asked him. You didn’t know why you felt nearly nervous, as if this wasn’t the first time the two of you spent time alone together.

“Not really,” he finally said, leaning back on his elbows and extended his legs out, looking out in front of him. “You go ahead, I just…”

He never finished his sentence, and you just hummed in agreement, deciding not to smoke either. Quiet music filled the little silence, before you guys once again easily feel into conversation while you snacked away.

It was comfortable, and you liked the way he sat so close to you, your legs resting on his. The sun was still out and shining, small breeze keeping you cool, filled with the warm smell of the air around you.

Eventually you were both lying back on the blanket, you on your back and Harry on his stomach right next to you. The only sound between the two of you was the music coming from Harry’s phone. He had his arms next to yours, aimlessly trailing fingertips along your skin just as he had the last time you were together.

Arms hanging by your sides, fingers moving from your arms to trace patterns over the fabric of your shirt. He lifted his head for a moment, mouth opening as if to say something but no words came out.

You didn’t notice at first, but by the third breathy sigh coming from his lips, you realized he was tempting to say something. “What’s up?”

“Nothing really, just thinking.”

“What about?” Moving up a bit on your elbows so that you could sit up, watching his hands fall down from your body and onto the towel under the two of you.

“I just –” he paused, head turning away from yours for a second before meeting your eyes again. “I really like spending time with you, you know that right?”

You warmed at his words. “I think I do, yeah.”

Just making out the smile that played on his lips, before he turned his head away from your, resting on his opposite cheek. You kept your eyes on him, feeling as though he had more to say but instead mindlessly played with a thread that was fraying from the blanket.

“Was that all?” You eventually spoke up, nudging his back with your arm. He shifted his head, taking a second before he faced you again.

“What?”

“Was that all you wanted to say?” You knew you were teasing him, watching a red blush splatter across his cheeks.

He shifted again, rolling over from his stomach to his back, bringing a hand up to his forehead to block out the sun while he kept his gaze locked up towards the sky. Mouth falling open, taking another beat before he spoke.

“Seemed kind of inevitable, didn’t it?”

“What?” You had no idea what he was talking about. Sitting up, slightly, resting on your folded elbows to hold your upper body up.

“I just mean…” he sighed, head rolling over to look at you. “Us. Seemed a bit inevitable no?”

Your smile grew. “What do you mean inevitable?”

His cheeks grew even redder. “You know what I mean. Smoking together and all, could never get enough of you.”

It was your turn to warm at his words as he kept speaking. “And I do like smoking with you, and spending time with you, and…” he trailed off, silently saying that he really liked being intimate with you.

“And?”

He lifted himself up with a laugh, leaning over you to press a small kiss to your shoulder. “And had extra fun spending time with you that night.”

“So did I,” your voice dropped down to a whisper, his face close to yours once again.

“And,” he continued, eyes gleaming. “I like not smoking with you too. I just,” he paused again. “Like being with you.”

He had the widest grin you’d seen on him, and you were sure that your face was mirroring his expression. Bring a hand up to his neck, pushing some hair that was hanging a bit lower through your fingers, before pulling him in for a slow kiss.

Lips naturally slotting over yours, encompassing your mouth with his as he sighed against you. “I like being with you too,” you hummed, pulling and nearly feeling intoxicated all over again with out even having to touch a drug.

Harry’s mind slowed, watching your lips curve into a smile before meeting your eyes again. He loved the little laugh that laced your words, the same one you had when you smoked too much and couldn’t form a sentence due to your own laughing. Better than any dream.

[fruitcoops]

if you are still taking request I think that it would be so cute if lily convinced remus to go to the nail salon with her, and he was going to just get like a manicure and clear coat, and he changes his mind and comes home with his nails done sirius' favorite color as a surprise and sirius is just like dumbstruck by how much the little things remus does makes him fall even more in love with him and fluffy cuteness ensues

This is adorable! Enjoy some Loops and Lily, ft. fluffy Coops on this lovely Monday. SW credit goes to @lumosinlove!

“Remind me why I’m coming with you again?” Remus sighed as they turned the corner. “It’s just going to chip off in two days anyway.”

“Because you had a shitty weekend and deserve a hand massage,” Lily said briskly. She looped her arm through his and tucked her hand into her pocket, tilting her face up toward the sun and trusting him to guide her along the sidewalk. “You don’t have to choose colors if you don’t want to.”

“If I have to go, I’m not going to half-ass it.”

She grinned and cracked one eye open. “There’s my Remus.”

A gentle bell jingled above his head as they ducked into the shop—Lily called it a ‘salon’, which he didn’t really understand, but it sounded fancy. One woman looked up from a client’s nails and waved, then pointed to the far wall. “Pick whatever colors you’d like! I’ll be with you in a few.”

Remus stopped in his tracks. “That’s…a lot.”

Lily rolled her eyes and dragged him closer. “You’re not chickening out on me over some colors, Lupin. Which one do you like?”

“I don’t know! There’s too many!”

“There’s green,” Lily huffed, planting him in front of about three dozen different shades. “Go nuts.”

“I’m not putting green on my nails. It’ll look weird.”

“Then do red and gold!”

“That’s lame. Can’t I just watch you get yours done?”

“No,” Lily groaned. It wasn’t the first time he had asked, and likely wouldn’t be the last. “It’s about the experience, Re. If you want just a clear coat, that’s fine, but you said you—”

“—didn’t want to half-ass it, I know,” he finished with a grumble. Colors. Colors aren’t that difficult. Green would be odd, orange would be worse…

His eyes caught on a little bottle near the base of the racks. It was a plain, pretty blue; nothing special, yet calming. Sea You Later! the base read when he picked it up. Lily made an approving noise over his shoulder. “That’s cute.”

“It’s not bad.”

“Looks like Sirius’ shirt, actually. The one with the dogs on it?”

Remus rolled the bottle around for a moment. “It really does, now that you mention it. Huh.”

She patted his hip and went back to the shiny, shimmery ones on the right. “You should give it a shot.”

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

Painting nails took a really, really long time. Much longer than Remus was anticipating when he hesitantly rested his hands on the towel and tried not to think about how much bigger they were than Lily’s. He felt awkward in a place like this, where everyone seemed so put-together and comfortable.

His worries were quickly dispelled when the nail artist began rubbing the tension from his joints with peony-scented lotion; he immediately relaxed into her touch, letting the calluses from sticks and weights be soothed. Judging from her pleased hum when she inspected his nails, he hadn’t accidentally been butchering them his whole life—the scrape of the nail file made him grimace, but she didn’t have to do much before a coat of clear polish went on.

“It’s a protector,” Lily said at his confused look. “So your nails stay healthy and don’t turn yellow.”

“This is a lot more complicated than I thought it would be,” Remus muttered as he stuck his hands underneath the miniature fan.

The nail artist laughed as she rolled her chair to Lily’s station. “First time?”

“Yeah. I can’t imagine you get a lot of guys in here.”

She shrugged. “More than you’d think, I bet. There’s nothing wrong with wanting your hands to look nice, and a pop of color never hurt anybody.”

“Good point.”

The clear polish—base coat, Lily said with a teasing smile—dried quickly, and soon two perfect layers of blue shone under the bright lamp. Lily’s design was much more complex than his own, with shimmery bits and spiraled paint, but he liked the simplicity. It even matched his socks.

Lily and the nail artist chatted the whole time, swapping stories about summer activities and everything that had happened since she last visited; Remus waited patiently with his fingertips under the fan and people-watched as the sun grew higher in the sky.

After an hour, they were finally done, and Remus couldn’t stop rubbing his hands together as they headed back outside until Lily smacked his arm. “Stop it, you look like a Disney villain.”

“I’m sorry, they’re just so soft!” He brought his hands to his face and breathed in the soft floral scent. “Here, feel.”

“I’m not going to feel your hands.”

“Feel them.” When she shook her head and kept walking, he jogged ahead and held them out, palms-up. “Lily! Feel my hands!”

“Alright, fine!” she laughed, grabbing them both. Her eyebrows rose. “Damn, they are soft.”

“Told you so.”

“That color looks really good on you, too.”

“Yeah?” Remus looked down at the polish again, smiling to himself. There was just something about them that made him happy. “They match my socks.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Nope.” He reached down and pulled his pantleg up, startling a snort out of Lily.

“You’re ridiculous,” she said as she linked their arms again. “Did you have fun?”

“It was nice,” Remus said with a shrug. “I don’t know if I’ll go back a lot, but I had a good time listening to you two talk.”

Lily nodded, looking quite self-satisfied. “Good. I bet Sirius will get a kick out of them.”

“You think so?”

“For sure. He always likes mine.”

Remus thought back to the many, many times Lily had displayed her freshly-done nails to them with great pride; Sirius did have a penchant for colorful and sparkly things, after all. Why should his ordinary blue nails be any different?

Lily made sure to take an obligatory Instagram photo of their hands before they entered the house, then immediately laid out in front of the fan by the back door while she uploaded it. “Hey, Lily, it’s good to see you, too,” Sirius said drily as he came in from the backyard. “I’m good, thanks for asking. It’s pretty hot out there, but—”

“Shut up,” she laughed, grabbing the back of his ankle when he stepped over her. “Where’s my lover?”

“Your husband is tormenting my dog,” he called over his shoulder before winding his arms around Remus’ waist for a kiss. “Bonjour, mon amour.”

“Hey, you.” Remus bumped their noses together with a grin he could never even try to hold down. “You know how I never half-ass things?”

“Mhmm.”

He held his fingers up. “Ta-da!”

“Oh, pretty.” Sirius’ eyes went wide as he took one of Remus’ hands. “Your hands are so soft!”

“I know, right?”

“He made me feel them!” Lily groaned from the floor. “It was so weird.”

“You love it!” Remus shot back before leaning onto his tiptoes to kiss Sirius’ forehead. “I figured you’d like the blue.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t do green.”

Heat rose to his cheeks, and it had nothing to do with the sunshine. “It’s your favorite color, right? Not too green, not too purple. Reminded me of you.”

Sirius’ eyes grew impossibly soft and he cupped Remus’ jaw, pulling him in for an unhurried kiss that melted his brain into his toes. “Je t’aime.”

“Love you, too,” he breathed. His face was definitely redder than a fire engine by that point, but he hardly cared.

There was a light squeeze around his hand. “These look really nice.”

A spark of joy lit in Remus’ chest. “I’m glad you like it.”

“Ugh, love,” Lily scoffed, despite the fact that James was pressing a million and one kisses to her neck as he hugged her from behind. 6

Sirius thumped his forehead on Remus’ collarbone. “You are the worst sister-in-law of all time.”

“I know,” she said with a smug smile, tilting her head to kiss James’ cheek. “Hi, lover.”

“Hi. Your nails are so beautiful.”

“I didn’t get them in your favorite color. Sorry.”

“I’ll never recover,” James sighed. “Well, at least we’re not a terrible rom-com cliché.”

Remus flipped him off over Sirius’ shoulder; the nail polish gave the gesture a little extra oomph that certainly canceled out the grin that made his whole face ache.