#not that people wouldn’t notice but that they’d be too deep in their feels

[heyclickadee]

Slightly unhinged Tech theories brought to you by:

1. How stupidly open Star Wars canon is.

2. An extremely stubborn form of optimism.

3. That red herrings only work if the real answer is more satisfying than the distraction, and the fact is that not only did we not get any answer AT ALL, but no one involved will actually straight up say it was a misdirect or what we were being misdirected from or even acknowledge there being any direction at all, meaning it was either the world’s most badly executed red herring, or it wasn’t a red herring at all/we just don’t have the actual answer yet.

4. The fact that Tech isn’t a real person, he’s an idea, meaning I don’t have to accept jack shit. Especially when canon has done so little to actually convince me he’s gone for good and it’s so markedly different than every other loss in the show.

[b3ach-bunn7]

READ YOUR MIND

You're roommate and her boyfriend are incredibly loud, so you decide to spend the night at your hot friend Jason's house.

fluff, college!au, confessions, one bed trope

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It takes about twenty minutes of internal conflict before you find yourself outside Jason’s dorm room. 

You feel stupid. It’s not like you haven’t been in Jason’s room before. You guys were friends. He’d slept on your couch after a movie night gone too long, you’d stayed up for hours writing essays together on his bedroom floor. This was nothing weird, nothing new. 

But for whatever reason, today it feels different. 

It might be the fact that you’re seeing him differently. You’re not sure when, but the line between friend and something else has started to blur. You don’t know how you didn’t notice the strong slope of his jaw, the fact that he was probably strong and muscular enough to throw you over his shoulder. How funny he was, how kind he was. The fact he studied English, how smart he was at it. It’s really no one's fault but his own. You’re surprised you’d lasted this long without crushing on him, anyway. And maybe the way his eyes lingered a little too long on your own. Innocent touches felt like something else, a hand holding your hips as he stepped behind you, a thigh against your own as you sat in impossibly tight lecture halls.

Whatever. There’s no point looking at it like that. You love your friendship with him too much to let a little crush ruin it. 

If you were in any other situation, you wouldn’t be here. But it’s late and you know of all your friends Jason’s the most likely to be awake. You don’t want to bother him but you can't spend another night third-wheeling with your roommate and her boyfriend. That, and the fact that it gets particularly loud whenever you come to sleep. 

After a deep breath to steel yourself, you knock on the door. It takes only a few seconds before it swings wide open. 

And God, you take back everything you just said. Because he's wearing a pair of grey sweats, and an old band shirt that is showing off his delicious arms, and you don’t know if you can blame the fact it’s nearly midnight on the thoughts running through your head. His movements are slow, sleepy, as he blinks at you confused.

He pushes his glasses up his head, tufts of brown hair falling over his face. “Oh. Hey. Is- Are you okay?”

“Oh god, did I wake you?”

“Nah, you’re good.” He leans against the doorframe, crossing his arms.

It takes a second before the words come out of your mouth. “I- Lily. She has- She has her boyfriend round, and I don’t sleep very well when he’s there.” You laugh awkwardly, scratching your arm.

You hold up the books and paper you brought with you. “You mind if I crash here tonight? I bought stuff to keep me busy, so I’ll be out of your hair.”

Jason smiles easily, pushing the door open further. “Of course, yeah.” 

You step in, thanking him as he grabs the stuff out of your hand and puts them on his front table. His dorm is so boyish. Him and his roommate, an eccentric boy everybody called Gar, were not the best at interior design. Their couches are dark grey with red pillows, jarring against the white carpet you’d bought them as a housewarming gift. The kitchen was an amalgamation of whatever plates and mugs they’d found at thrift stores, their fridge filled with pictures from Gar’s old polaroid camera. It was cute and very them, and a warm place to sleep that wasn’t accompanied by the sound of your roommate and her boyfriend doing whatever the hell they got up to alone.

“Thanks again. I can’t stand another night with those two.”

Jason snorts a laugh, sitting down on the couch. “It can’t be that bad. They’re nice people.”

“Yeah, sure. But all they do is remind me of how painfully single I am.” You huff, sitting beside him.

He’s close enough that you can smell the expensive cologne he wears. He’s shown you it once, a fancy glass bottle. He’s spritzed it on your wrist and the smell lasted all day. He nods at your words, and you turn your head towards the TV to avoid his gaze.

“That guy you saw last week didn’t work out?” 

Your eyebrows furrow. Honestly, the date had been crap, and you’d forgotten about him the second you’d gone home. You’re surprised he remembers. You tell Jason about all of your romantic adventures, hoping it will have some effect on your feelings for him. It hasn't been very successful so far. And while Jason looks disinterested as he asks you, eyes focused on the movie on screen, his leg taps up and down, and he looks a little restless. You think about lying for a split second, but you can’t bring yourself to do it.

You scoff. “I haven’t spoken to him since. He was boring. And stupid.”

Jason laughs, his eyes crinkling. “That’s rude!”

“He couldn’t hold one conversation with me! Like, I asked him what his favourite book was and he said Diary of a Wimpy Kid. We are nineteen years old!” You whine, hands covering your face as Jason cackles next to you.

“So that’s all women want. A man who reads?” There's a teasing lilt to his voice and you roll your eyes.

“Well, duh. I am studying English after all. I’d like to be able to hold a conversation with him about what I do.”

“That’s a fair dealbreaker, I'll be honest.” Jason hums, resting his arm on the back of the couch, brushing your back slightly. “Is that all you’re looking for in a man?”

The TV blares quietly in the background. Some random show on the food network where the contestant currently on screen looks like they're about to drop the tiered cake in their hands. His question rings out in the room, and you know you only have a few seconds before your silence is considered awkward. But you can’t help but think his question is so suggestive. Does he want to know why out of innocent curiosity? Or does he want to know out of something else?

“Well. Obviously not.” You finally say, bringing your knees up to your chest. “But English comprehension would be nice.”

Jason snorts a laugh. “That being said. He has to be funny. And tall, at least taller than me. And he needs to be smart. And fit. Like, physically.”

Jason watches you with a small smile on his face, nodding, like he knows you're just trying to describe him in a roundabout way. You laugh, a little nervous under his gaze. You reach across the couch and grab the remote.Your arm brushes against his leg and the contact is fleeting but it makes your skin burn.

“And all these guys at uni, and you haven’t found one who fits?” 

His voice is lower when he speaks again, and when you look at him he’s looking at you so intensely. And it’s then you notice that the two of you are sitting quite close on the couch, considering it's one big enough to fit about four people. 

“Well. Yes. I- Maybe.”

He just nods again. You take a quick breath in, quickly grabbing your book from the table. “Did you finish the essay for next week?” 

Jason groans, leaning his head back on the couch. “Fuck. No. I completely forgot.”

You wave your own essay in the air. “Well. I was gonna ask you to read over mine, but. Nevermind then.” You sigh dramatically.

“Shut up. Lemme read.” He takes it out of your hand, slipping his glasses back on his face. They’re thick rimmed lenses that make him look older than he is and you love them.

You watch him as he reads, fingers playing with his bottom lip as his eyes skim over your work. Some part of you feels the tiniest bit self-conscious, because he is a hundred times smarter than you, but you know he’d never make it feel that way. Jason suddenly looks up and his eyes meet yours. You smile, face heating, as he raises an eyebrow.

“Enjoying the view, sweetheart?”

“Shut up.”

You tap the edge of your paper. “Good?”

“Great. Can you write mine too?”

You snort. “You wish.” Jason pouts and drops your paper back on the table.

“It’s fine. I’ll do it tomorrow. Right now I’m hungry.”

You sit up immediately at that. “Yes. Let’s order food.”

Jason looks back at his kitchen. “I shouldn’t. I’ve eaten takeaway every night this week, I think. It’s also,” he quickly glances at his watch, “barely half twelve. What’s even open right now?”

You groan, shaking his shoulder. “Jason, don’t be responsible! I’m here, this is like a sleepover. We need to eat something junk-foody.”

Jason just frowns. You flick the centre of his glasses and he tuts. “Hey.”

“I’ll even pay! It’s on me.” You nod and pull out your phone. You’re opening UberEats before he can protest again.

“See. Burger King is open. We love Burger King!”

“We do?”

“Yes. What do you want?”

“A whopper.”

You spend the next ten minutes deciding and then the next thirty waiting anxiously for your food. The thing with Jason, and probably the reason you like him the most, is that you can talk to him about anything. Tonight, it’s his brother Dick’s birthday party. He leans in to show you the picture on his phone, and you try not to laugh at how unhappy he looks to be photographed.

When the doorbell rings Jason runs to grab the food, before bringing it back to the two of you. It takes another twenty minutes for the two of you to finish eating, old episodes of Friends humming in the background. Sleep circles your limbs and you yawn, sipping on blue slushy that had come with your order. It’s entirely too sweet and stains your tongue blue but you keep drinking it anyway.

“I don’t know. Bruce is always asking me to come over, but. Things are still weird.”

You nod. “Yeah, I get it. But it’s good you’re trying. I-“

You're cut off suddenly by Jason yelling and pointing at your arm. You screech, dropping your slush and shooting off the couch.

“What! Oh my god, what is it?” You yell, hands rubbing at your sleeves.

“You-“ Jason tries to speak but his words are cut off by a laugh. “It was just a little bug.” 

“Jason. That is not funny! You freaked me out, look!” You whine, pointing at the now spilt slushy all over your hoodie.

“Ah, shit. Sorry, sorry.” 

He gets up and grabs some tissues and you furiously dab at your hoodie. The couch is also now blue, and you frown. “There goes my bed, too. Guess I’m sleeping on your bedroom floor today.” 

Jason perks up where he’s blotting the couch. He frowns, thinking for a moment. “You’re not sleeping on the floor, what? Take my bed.”

Your hands drop to your sides. “Well what about you?” 

“I’ll take the floor. It’s my fault you split this, anyway.” 

“It’s your bed. I’m not gonna make you sleep on the floor.”

“Well, it’s my dorm so. I think I’ll have the final say, sweetheart.” He teases. 

You bite your bottom lip, thinking, and toss the used tissues on the table. “Why don’t we just sleep together?”

The tips of Jason’s ears turn a dark red and he looks a little shell-shocked at your words, before it’s replaced by a smirk. Your face flushes too, and you quickly shake your head.

“I- Not like that, I meant- Stop laughing.” You snap. But the sight of him laughing behind his hand makes you giggle a little too.

“I just mean, like. I don’t mind sleeping in the bed with you. I just- I don’t think there’s any point in one of us sleeping on the floor, if there’s a perfectly good bed that can fit us both, you know?”

You’re well aware that you’re rambling, and the way he tilts his head and smiles at you is not helping. He gives the couch one last wipe and stands.

“Alright. That’s cool with me if it’s cool with you.  I can also get you something else to wear.” He gestures at your now blue hoodie and you smile gratefully.

You’ve been in Jason’s room once or twice, to grab something or take a call. But this time it’s different, because you’re looking at his bed and you’re going to be in it in about five minutes. You ignore the band posters plastered on his walls, the messy stacks of books all over his floor. You sit gingerly on the edge of the mattress and wait. He comes in only a moment later. He starts rummaging through his drawers and you just watch. He glances at you over his shoulder and shakes his head, huffing a laugh.

“Stop staring. You’re making me nervous.” He whispers.

“Man up.”

He throws a hoodie at you and you catch it. “You know where the bathroom is.”

You walk into the toilet and quickly get changed. You leave your old hoodie in the hamper. Jason’s one is bigger and smells like him, and you don’t see yourself giving this back anytime soon. You give yourself a quick once over in the mirror, fixing your hair and wiping mascara from under your eyes, before you head back to Jason’s room.

When you come back, Jason’s already in bed, doing something on his phone. You linger in the doorway and he looks up.

“You want a formal invitation?”

You roll your eyes and shuffle your way over. You gingerly lift up the sheets and climb in. You are so painfully aware of how close he is, your shoulders brushing as he puts his phone to the side and lays down properly. The room is silent other than the two of you breathing. Just when you're about to speak, he beats you to it.

“Night.” He whispers.

“Goodnight.”

You’re not crazy, right? This is weird. Maybe if it was Victor’s room. A boy friend who was completely platonic, it wouldn't mean anything. But you’ve felt the tension between you and Jason, the subtle flirting, the lingering touches. You know that whatever is happening between you guys is not just friendship. And you have no idea if it's just you, because Jason is breathing so evenly you think he’s fallen asleep already. 

You shuffle a little in the sheets, uncomfortable. They smell like Jason and it’s not helping to calm your thoughts down. You turn around to lay on your side, and when you do, you’re met with a face right in front of you, looking back. 

It doesn’t take long for your eyes to adjust to the darkness and this close, you can make out the spattering of freckles on the bridge of his nose, the grey hairs he’s growing at 20 that he always complains about. His eyelashes are so long, and you smile sleepily.

“Hi.” 

He smiles too. “Hi.”

“I can’t sleep.” You mumble, eyes fluttering shut. “Those burgers woke me up.”

Silence. You don't get a reply. You open your eyes again and Jason is just staring.

“Is there another bug on my face?” You joke. But he doesn't laugh.

“No. You just look so pretty right now.”

Your mouth opens to speak, but no words come out. Jason looks like he’s telling you the time of day, so casual. He lifts up his hand slightly, and brushes a strand of your hair from out your face.

“I- Thank you.”

He doesn’t say anything again. You don’t know what to say. A silence settles over the room again. The two of you just look at each other. And just when you’re about to break it, he sits up so fast it makes you jump.

“Jason, what-”

“I can’t do this, I-”

You eyebrows furrow and you sit up, watching Jason flick on the lamp on his bedside table. The room is enveloped in a soft warm light, and his hair is tousled a little, his shirt wrinkled from how quickly he got up.

“What is going on right now?” “Did you know Gar isn’t home?” He says.

You say yes, because the fact you can’t hear him yelling at COD or something else, and the fcat he didn’t come say hi, is enough clue that he’s not home. 

“Right, so. When I made you spill your slushy, which was an accident by the way, I could’ve easily just let you stay in there. He wouldn’t care.”

“Okay.” You say slowly.

“And. I didn’t. Because I knew that you wouldn’t let me sleep on the floor and i wouldn’t either, and then we’d be in this position, and I’d finally get the chance to fucking tell you how i feel.”

“How- How you feel?”

“Yes. And then I pussied out and I just said goodnight, and. And then you looked at me, and, fuck. I can’t take it anymore.”

And then Jason turns to look at you, and he looks so desperate as he grabs your hands, his skin calloused as he tightens his grip. 

“I like you. A lot. And, you know, I’d like to think I'm pretty smart, but I know I am horrible when it comes to people, at feelings. So I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to say that.”

This is a dream. There’s no way this is real, that the Jason Todd, biceps and all, is confessing to you on his bed. You want to pinch yourself because the way his thumb is rubbing soothing circles on the back of your hand is making your heart squeeze in your chest.

You watch those pretty brown eyes furrow slightly at your silence. 

“I- If you don’t feel the same way, I-”

You don’t think before you reach forward, palms grabbing his jaw and pulling him forward so you can press a kiss to his lips. And he barely waits a second before his eyes flutter closed, hands tangling in your hair to pull you impossibly closer. Your arms slide down to curve around his neck and you toy with the hair on the nape of his neck, and he groans. You finally let go and he leans his forehead on yours, kissing your nose, your cheek.

“I like you too, by the way. If the kiss wasn’t tell enough.”

He grins, boyish and handsome, and you want to kiss him again.

He sighs happily, hands slipping up the edge of his hoodie, eyes waiting for your nod of approval. When he gets it, he smiles again, pressing a kiss to your jaw.

“God, thank fuck for Lily and her boyfriend

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nia try not to write a college au mission impossible... I LOVEE JASON TODD! In my head any alternate universe hes not emo so i write him nice and cute.

thanks to all who voted in the poll! im gonna make my way through all the guys on that list so look out for it! next up will be shinsou because of a very nice commenter ;P i hope u all enjoy this, leave any fic ideas in my ask box!

[princesssmars]

abby who definitely doesn’t have a thing for showing you off. nsfw.

you remember a certain night a while when you had started dating abby, both curled up on her couch and cozied under a blanket while watching one of your comfort movies. the man on screen was getting jealous at someone hitting on his girlfriend in a bar, and you’d passively asked her if she’d do the same for you.

“ok, be honest. if someone bc was hitting on me in front of you, how would you react?”

“i’d hope as soon as they saw me they’d stop. but i’d probably just tell them to leave you alone unless they escalate.”

“aww, you’re so cordial. so you wouldn’t punch someone in the face for me?”

“of course, but i’m definitely not throwing the first one. i like you but a night in jail is a little too extreme for me.”

you’d laughed together and averted your attention back to the movie, cuddling up closer to her side. at this point the couple had returned to their home, the man pressing the woman up into the wall as he left a collage of love bites over her neck and shoulders.

“what about that? would you do that to me?”

you could feel the woman next to you as she slightly shifted her body, suddenly jittery in her position.

“what like…leave marks on you? for other people to see?”

“yeah, then everyone would already know i’m taken. would save you some time instead of yelling at pervs.”

she let out a stunted little chuckle when you pressed a small kiss to her cheek and grabbed her hand to hold in yours. you noticed the way her eyes locked into the screen when the couples actions started getting heated, the way her chest started to stutter with her breathing.

really, you didn’t have any choice but to take advantage of her clear excitement over the prospect.

the next time you were planned to head out with your girlfriends you wore a top you knew she wouldn’t be able to resist you in, low cut with plenty of your skin on display. it was almost comical the way her eyes became the size of dinner plates when you walked out of the bedroom, strutting over to the woman who sat on the couch and was gripping her thighs so aggressively you thought she might rip her pants.

it was no surprise that only a few minutes later she had you pressed into the cushions under her, lips kissing and biting marks from your neck down to your breasts and stomach. a firm hand gripped the meat of your thigh and bringing it up to wrap around her waist, the other pushed up into your skirt and rubbing you through the fabric of your panties.

your head feels fuzzy as she grinds her fingers up into your clit the same time she bites a deep mark into the special spot on your neck, body and voice involuntarily reacting and pleading for more. you know she wants to give it to you, can tell by the way her whines reverberate each time she finds a new spot on your chest to mark and how her hips grind themselves into her arm to push herself against you even harder.

but still, she pulls away. you’re both breathing heavily, droopy eyed and ogling each other when she quickly stands up and yanks your arm to bring you to a standing position. her hands place themselves on your upper arms when your legs slightly falter and she bites her lip when you look up at her with a whine, not able to come up with the words to ask her why she’d leave you so close to the edge.

wordlessly she grabs your purse and places it in yours hands l, guiding you to the doorway before pressing a lingering kiss on your forehead. you pout before making your way to your car, plopping down in the drivers seat and gasping when you catch a glimpse of your neck and chest in the rear view mirror, shades of reds pinks and purples dusting your skin.

you aren’t given the chance to ask about it before your phone is dinging with an message from abby, the words lighting up the top of your screen.

“let everyone at the club see those, huh?”

[areyouwell]

Logan x angel!reader where the reader had to get medical treatment after a mission because her angel wings (that are apart of her mutation) were burned and partially damaged after battle, and Logan comes in to check up on her?

Tattered

Pairing: Logan Howlett x F!Mutant!Reader

Word count: 10K

A/N: first request! so i definitely took some creative license with this... i sort of just kept adding scenes and ideas but this concept was so fierce boots i couldn't help myself. hope this is what you have in mind <3 i have also elected, from now onwards, not to use warnings on my fics unless there's explicit content in which case it will simply just have MDNI in red.

I don't have a taglist for like, oneshots or requests rn so lmk if anyone would like to be added :)

“Watch your six, Icarus!” Scott’s voice crackled from your earpiece as you swooped over the battlefield, the feathers in your wings fluttering in the wind. Glancing behind back, you realised why Scott had alerted you, three drones tailed you with six red dots seeking out your presence. Fuck, this wasn’t good. Why did nothing ever go right? Why were there always fucking complications?

You tucked your wings in tight against your back as you joined the rest of the team inside the Blackbird. You’d always been conscious of how much room you often took up, and whilst your mutation was your pride and joy, it was a common occurrence to feel a little self conscious when trying to cram multiple people into a tight space. You never occupied any of the seats in the cockpit, your wings wouldn’t allow it, and it was never comfortable for you anyway, the way they would shift and bend at unnatural angles meant you’d constantly be shuffling around to stop the awkward ache in your shoulder blades.

Icarus. That was your name. Well, not your name, but that’s what they called you on account of your gleaming golden feathers. You thought it was a little mean, to be honest. You had no intention of flying too close to the sun anytime soon, but alas, you were stuck with it, and over time, you’d come to appreciate it. They weren’t far off anyway. You did have grand ideals, and dreams to become something more than just a freedom fighter. You wanted to change the world and make it a safer place where humans and mutants could live in harmony. You knew a lot of the hard graft was political, and Hank was doing wonders for mutant reputation, but you still would like to contribute something other than stopping mutant slave trades and taking down illegal, anti-mutant organisations. 

That was the mission today. Some hate-crazed fuck had been building some kind of drone that could target the mutant gene. Kind of like the sentinels from years ago, but they’d been discontinued.

Thank fuck. 

The muscles in your shoulders tensed slightly as Ororo and Logan finally joined the rest of you, deep in conversation about the inevitable upcoming battle. You tucked yourself further into the wall, cursing lowly as you hit your head against the steel. 

Your relationship with Logan was… complicated, to say the least. The two of you instantly clicked when you met, finding yourself at ease with his gruff, surprisingly playful demeanour. You guessed he must have felt the same, since you noticed he would often seek you out during breaktimes, or take the seat next to you during meetings, sending you looks whenever Scott said something particularly leader-ish. You’d have to bite back a smile and attempt to keep your serious composure, lest anyone would think you weren’t taking the meeting seriously. 

And then there was the night things shifted between you. It was late, possibly early hours of the morning. Your muscles ached from being unable to find a comfortable position to sleep in, the beds not exactly being tailored to suit those with extra limbs, and with a huff of irritation, you’d given up to head downstairs and fix yourself an Irish coffee. And whilst there was a serious lack of Irish whiskey in the school, you knew Logan had a bottle of bourbon hiding somewhere in the cupboards, out of reach for most of the younger kids. 

You’d managed to clamber up onto the counter, perched precariously on the edge as you rifled around the top shelf, pulling down various unused cooking equipment before you finally came across the liquid gold. With a triumphant smile, you reached in further to wrap your fingers around the neck of the bottle, delicately pulling it from the depths of the cupboard. Only, it was stuck. 

The screw top kept scraping against the top of the cupboard, and you grit your teeth as your fruitless yanking sent pots and pans clattering against each other. You seriously didn’t want to wake anyone only to have them come down and find you up on your knees, balancing on the thin space of the counter, elbow deep in the top cupboard and frantically pulling at a bottle of whiskey. Fuck knows what kind of an impression that would give, but it certainly wouldn’t have been the correct one. 

Flaring your wings for balance, you completely misjudged the tips of your wingspan, knocking over an empty can of baked beans and sending it rolling onto the floor with a loud, deafening clang. You froze, attempting to quiet your breathing whilst you waited for the telltale sound of footsteps or the annoyed slam of a bedroom door. But your intense listening found nothing, the halls of the school blissfully quiet as you loosened your held breath. 

Nothing. Everyone was still asleep.

You turned your attention back to the stubborn bottle, this time trying to gently manoeuvre it around the baking bowls and saucepans, teasing it from the small little hiding place like you would a scared child. 

“Come… on.” You hissed with effort, finally freeing your vice from its trap with a final, harsh tug. Only, it was a little harsher than you’d have liked it to be. You grabbed the handle of the cupboard to your left to hold your balance, only for the door to swing open and provide absolutely no stability whatsoever. 

You felt yourself fall backwards with a frantic, whispered curse, swinging with the cupboard door, and resigned yourself to the sore back you’d get from falling to the floor. Or, at least, you would have fallen to the floor, if it hadn’t been for the sudden appearance of a warm palm at the centre of your spine. 

“Rough–” 

You yelped at the unexpected voice behind you, you entire body jumping as if you were shocked by a socket. 

“Stop screaming, it’s me,” Logan soothed with no small degree of subdued amusement. “Rough night?”

It wasn’t like he was asleep, more like dozing when he heard the soft padding of footsteps pass his door and head down the stairs. Knowing it was you, he assumed you’d just woken up thirsty and were heading down for a glass of water. His assumption proved incorrect when the clattering of pans and the clang of something hitting the floor broke the steady silence, and curiosity won over when he decided to investigate just exactly what it was you were doing. 

What he wasn’t expecting was to find you clinging onto the cupboards for dear life, his bottle of whiskey clutched in one stubborn hand and your other gripping the open door of the shelf next to you. And it was pure instinct to lunge forward and steady you before you fell to the floor, though in the following moments, he convinced himself it was purely because he didn’t want you to wake up anyone else.

“What?” You asked in bewilderment, turning your head to see his brow raise at the bottle you had in your white knuckle grip. How the hell hadn’t you heard him? You’d stayed silent for at least five minutes before resuming your attempts to pull the bottle out. How the hell had he managed to still creep up on you?

“It’s two in the mornin’ and you’re makin’ a grab for whiskey. So, rough night?” He asked again, moving his hands from your back to your waist, steadying you as you clambered down from the countertop, and he did his best to ignore the feeling of your warm skin seeping through the thin nightshirt you were wearing. At least you were wearing shorts. Though, he counted that as both a blessing and a curse. 

He liked you. Despite trying to gaslight himself otherwise, there were times when he truly couldn’t deny it. And this time was one of them. You looked a little dishevelled, hair slightly frizzy and out of place from tossing and turning, and it was one of the rare times he’d seen you without any makeup on. You never wore a lot, just enough to accent your already glowing features and cover any blemishes he thought you had no reason to feel self-conscious about. 

You were so perfectly yourself, it was tricky for him not to fall in love with you.

Not that he had, of course. This was just a surface-level crush…

Yeah. Totally.

“You uh, yeah, you could say that. One of those nights, ya know?” You offered a small, slightly dejected smile, and his heart bled slightly. He knew. More than he could say, he knew exactly what you were talking about.

“You plannin’ on drinking yourself to sleep?” He asked with wry suspicion as you leaned against the counter, placing his bottle next to the kettle you still needed to flip on. 

“The opposite, actually. Wanted to fix myself an Irish coffee. Seeing as I’m not sleeping tonight, might as well stay up.” You shrugged, finding the willpower to turn away from him and grab the ground coffee from the lower cupboard. Thankfully, it didn’t put up the same kind of fight as the bottle. 

It was getting increasingly difficult to ignore the electricity humming from where his hands were still against your waist, though his grip was lighter than when he’d helped you down. It truly wasn’t decent to detail the things you were thinking at that moment, and you had to force yourself to think of unsexy things. 

“We have a mission in two days and you’re pullin’ an all-nighter?” He asked, his brows pinching in badly concealed concern. Your heavy sigh did nothing to quench his worry.

“What’m I supposed to do? You try sleeping in a bed that’s too small with wings that stretch to either side of the room,” You huffed, flicking down the switch on the kettle and spooning a good two heaps of coffee grounds into the cafetiere. “Doesn’t matter what position. On my back or my side, shit’s so fucking uncomfortable it almost hurts.” 

“Why not sleep on your front?”

You snapped back to look at him, eyes hardening to steel. “No. Never sleep on my front.”

You’d said it with so much force he almost reeled back. There was a story there, there had to be, for you to clap back at him with such a bite there was no way it was just a personal preference. You hadn’t really told anyone about your life before the school, but from the bare snippets he’d heard from Charles, it wasn’t exactly how anyone would describe as happy. And there was fear behind that steel. Vulnerability. 

Logan sighed, leaning across you to flip the switch back up, stopping the kettle from boiling. You gaped indignantly, and before you could ask him just what the hell he thought he was doing, he spoke before you.

“Sleep with me.”

You choked, eyes blowing wide with shock. “I… what?”

Logan rolled his eyes, unable to tame the crooked curl of his lips at your complete one-eighty from irritation to stupefaction, even the feathers of your wings had puffed out slightly. “Not like that, freak,” although I wouldn’t be opposed. “Just… for company. Might help, s’all.” He offered quietly, and a blanket of realisation settled in your chest. He was awake too. It had only just occurred to you. He hadn’t been sleeping. He didn’t even look like he’d been sleeping. And it made more sense in your head for him to offer if it was something that could benefit both of you. 

It seemed highly unlikely he was offering just for you. Right?

“You sure? Don’t wanna like, intrude on your space or anything…” 

“Not intrudin’ if I offer,” he reasoned, and you guessed you couldn’t argue with that. With a heavy sigh, you looked back to the bottle of whiskey you’d fought wars to obtain, realising now that the whole cupboard situation had been for nothing. 

“All that effort,” you pouted comically, and Logan huffed a smile.

“I’ll put it somewhere easier next time. C’mon.” He nudged you before grabbing the bottle and returning it to the top shelf. You cursed his stupid height and the fact that he wasn’t down earlier. He could have retrieved it for you with so much less effort. But at the same time… if he had…

You wouldn’t be where you are now. 

You followed him back up the stairs, taking a left to the door only a few down from your own. You didn’t quite know how sleeping in the presence of someone else would help, but you were not about to say no to sleeping by his side. It wasn’t like this was something you’d thought about. At great length. And in great detail.

And this certainly wasn’t a scenario he’d entertained far too many times to count. 

Though upon seeing the double bed, that same self-conscious feeling reared its ugly head. There was no way you weren’t going to disturb him. You could barely find comfort in your own bed of the same size, let alone trying to sleep with someone else taking up space. You hesitated in the doorway, and Logan turned back to you, his head quirking to the side. 

“You ‘kay?”

“Yeah… s’just– are you sure I’m not gonna disturb you? Don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I take up a bit more room than other people…” you extended your wings in emphasis, barely able to stretch them to half their wingspan before the side of the closet and the wall stopped you. Logan breathed a soft smile, and you felt yourself shrink slightly. 

“I’ll be fine, just get in.”

You huffed in resignation, tucking the feathers close into your back and crossing to the other side of the bed, unable to stop thinking about how ridiculous this was. You really should just get the fuck over yourself and go back to your room. How tricky was sleeping on your front anyway? Maybe this time you wouldn’t wake up with a panic attack and you were just being dramatic this whole time. You were fine. It really wasn’t that deep. You didn’t want to disturb him just because you couldn’t get over some stupid fucking fear. This was–

“Christ, I’m not even a telepath and I can hear ya thinkin’. It’s fine, sweetheart. You’re fine.” He implored, throwing back the covers for you to take up the space next to him, but you continued to hesitate. “You want a written invitation or somethin’? Get your ass in bed.”

“Alright, jeez…” you pursed your lips to stop yourself from smiling at his smartass comment, keeping your wings firmly against your back as you shuffled beneath the covers by his side, careful not to take up too much room. Your shoulder started to cramp up slightly, but there was no way you were about to release the tension in your muscles until you were sure he was asleep. 

Pulling the covers up to your neck as best you could, you scooted down until your head hit the pillow, shifting in yet another attempt to ease the ache in your back. You hadn’t noticed he’d turned on his side to face you until you looked back ahead and were suddenly met with his flat look of exasperation.

“Seriously?”

“What?” Your voice raised into a pitch of innocence, and Logan barely managed to suppress his eye roll of sarcasm. 

“The point was for you to be comfortable.”

“I am comfortable!”

“As comfortable as someone would be whilst constantly tensing, yeah?”

“Logan, if I don’t, you’ll wake up with feathers in your nose.”

He snorted a laugh, and you giggled slightly along with him. “You look ridiculous.”

You gaped in mock offence. “Hey!”

“Come ‘ere…” in one swift movement, you were dragged from your position on your side, and he turned the both of you until you were settled on his chest. Panic swirled in your mind as your back was exposed to the room, until a steady hand soothed your racing pulse against your spine, in the space between your wings. You felt comfort dampen your anxiety, breathing deeply into the dip between his collarbone and neck, exhaling a shaky breath. You let the seconds tick by, expecting yourself to start gasping rapidly at any moment. But the longer your heart stayed settled, the more you realised this might actually work. “Y’okay?” He asked quietly, and you nodded against his chest.

“Yeah… just surprised. Usually, I’d be thinking I’m about to die by this point,” you half-joked, and though you couldn’t see him, Logan’s brows pinched in empathy. What the hell had happened to you before joining the team? Finding the school? His fingers slowly grazed through the short, fluffy feathers at the base of your wings, carding through the stiff joints. He watched in mild amusement as you shivered slightly, those feathers puffing out and shuddering at his touch. He lightly dug his fingers into the hard muscles around the joint, and you had to clamp your mouth shut to stop yourself from sighing in release. You hadn’t realised just how much strain it was to constantly keep them tight against your back, and whilst it had proven useful to build up the muscle, it had also resulted in some nasty knots. 

Achingly slowly, your wings started to relax, heavy, hollow bones coming to rest across his body, wingtips grazing the floors on either side of the bed as you blanketed the both of you in a soft, warm embrace. Your eyes started to grow tired, lids drooping with each gentle caress of his fingers across your back. 

“Sleep, angel. ‘M here. You’re safe.” He whispered, and you didn’t have the energy to contemplate the fact he’d just used two new pet names for you. If you weren’t so damn tired, your insides would have exploded with butterflies by now, but the siren call of sleep lulled you into a sense of security, and with his steady heartbeat your lullaby, you gave in to the soft pull of rest. 

That was the night things changed between you. The day after he would barely leave your side, sticking by you throughout the morning, taking the seat next to you in the pre-mission meeting that same evening, sending you quick glances that he’d cut short whenever your eyes met. And it was the same when he entered the Blackbird, with you tucked tight against the wall. His eyes found you instantly, lips carving into a gentle smile, his hand falling to your shoulder as he walked past you. You savoured the touch, missing the contact when his hand fell back to his side, still deep in conversation with Ororo. 

“Do you want to fly above us, Icarus? Might be more comfortable,” Scott asked from where he’d taken his seat at the front of the jet, his head turning back to look at you through his glasses. You knew what he meant. There was only so much room in the Blackbird, and despite your best efforts, you were taking up a considerable amount. You took a moment to think, weighing up your options. And whilst you loved the freedom of flying, you couldn’t help but think it was a backhanded way of asking you to stop taking up so much room. He may not have meant it that way, but that’s just how it felt. 

“Uh, sure. Yeah, might be better…” You mumbled with a shrug, trying in vain to stop the hot shame from flushing your cheeks. 

Logan’s jaw tensed, his teeth grinding together, the sound resonating through his skull. He’d been trying so damn hard to get you to loosen up about your wings. And whilst he found it difficult to properly articulate just how gorgeous he thought they were, he thought he was finally making some progress after the last two days. So the way Scott insensitively asked you to fly instead of taking the jet wound him up. 

“Only if it would be better for you. Don’t do it just cuz ya think it’ll be more comfortable for everyone else,” he ground out with a pointed look to Scott, whose brows furrowed in brief confusion before his mouth fell open in horror.

“Shit, no that’s not what I meant! I just thought–”

“It’s fine, Scott,” you tried placating the panicking Cyclops. “I need to stretch them out before the mission anyway.” You smiled a liar's smile, hoping he wouldn’t see through the façade and into your genuine hurt before turning on your heel to head back down the ramp. You managed to make it roughly halfway before a hand caught your arm, stopping you short. 

“You’re not doin’ this cuz of these, right?” Logan asked, gesturing to your wings with his head, his eyes searching your expression as if he was looking to peer right through you. You offered him the same smile you gave Scott, and whilst it worked to settle Cyclops, it only served to broaden Logan’s concern. 

“Nah, I really do need to stretch them out, feeling kinda stiff today so it’s not a problem.” You said brazenly, shrugging off his concerns with faux confidence. You knew it didn’t work when his expression didn’t shift, his hand tightening slightly around your arm. You sighed, defeated. “It’s fine, Logan. Everyone’ll be more comfortable like this anyway, myself included. I won’t feel like I’m–”

“If you finish that sentence with ‘in the way’ I’ll throw you off the jet myself.” He borderline growled, and you tensed your jaw in slight irritation. Couldn’t he just let you have this? Couldn’t he just let you do this one thing to make everyone’s lives more comfortable? Why did he have to be so damn stubborn?

“Just… drop it, yeah? I’ll see you guys when we get there.” You bit, almost snatching your arm from his grip and continuing down the ramp, crouching low when you reached the bottom and launching into the skies, your wings beating hard as cold wind whipped your face. All Logan could do was watch you go, regret piercing his chest as the sound of your wings receded into the night sky. 

And that was how you found yourself already airborne when Scott’s voice crackled through your earpiece, the low hum of those three drones on your tail like the toll of death, the rapid beeping of target systems an accompaniment to the symphony. Tucking one of your wings in tight, you fell into a sharp stoop, panic rising in your chest as they followed you down. The hissing release of metal combined with the sudden roar of a rocket told you at least one of them had fired on you. You flared your wings, catching the air like a feathered parachute as you levelled out quickly, the missile shooting past you and into the ground below. The heat from the explosion fanned your face as you whipped around the wreckage of a building, those three drones still hot on your trail.

Logan looked up as you soared above, his claws drenched in blood as he yanked them out the helmet of some unfortunate soldier who’d made the mistake of thinking he could take on The Wolverine. His heart raced in his throat as those six dots wouldn’t stray from your body, drones expertly following your manoeuvres, mimicking every duck and dive, narrowly missing the corners of buildings and rising flames. Ororo’s voice crackled in his own earpiece, her tone frantic. 

“Icarus you gotta shake them!”

“NO SHIT!”

He almost winced at the panic in your voice, snapping back at Storm in a way he’d never heard you do before. Casting a quick glance to his surroundings, he saw Scott with his fingers braced on his glasses, beams of white-hot energy streaking the battlefield as he picked off one guard after another. 

“Scott!” He called, his legs pounding the ground as he ran over, slicing through the gut of a nameless, faceless soldier who stood in his way before he jogged to a stop. “Think you can get a clear shot?” He asked, his words rushed as his gaze returned to the skies, another explosion booming bright before you raced around the corner of the main building. 

“They’re moving too fast and it’s too much of a risk.” Scott called back over the din of battle, the crackle and boom of thunder overhead striking the earth with expert precision as Storm unleashed yet another bolt from the clouds above. A little too close to you for comfort. 

Logan’s breath caught in his throat as you levelled out, those tenacious six red dots still focused solely on your racing form, your wings beating and dipping with every expert manoeuvre as you once again swooped from sight. But it still wasn’t enough. 

“Lead the shot.”

“What?”

“Lead the damn shot, Scott. She’ll be comin’ back round, it’s a pattern. Just do it.” He almost pleaded, his voice cracking slightly. He knew you only had precious seconds before those missiles would fire again, and you couldn’t outrun them forever.

You crested back around the ruins of the facility, and it was only due to his enhanced sight could he see your confidence wavering, your jaw tense with concentration, though your eyes were blown wide with panic. 

The beep of the target systems increased rapidly, before blending into one long note. And it was like time came to a slow crawl. A puff of silver gas erupted from the base of the drone, a pinpoint missile dropping from the small hold to hone in on your location before Scott had a chance to take it out. 

Switching targets, Scott moved his head to the side slightly, leading the shot as Logan had said, the beam of pure, red and white hot energy shot from his glasses, quick as a blink. And for one, blissfully ignorant moment, Logan thought they’d succeeded.

But the missile was too close. The moment the pure energy collided with the steel casing, a ball of furnace orange flame and thick black smoke lit the sky. Before you had time to think, searing agony jolted your back, hellfire burning your shoulders and wings as you were thrust forward, losing control of your trajectory. Panic gripped your heart as you tried in vain to regain your altitude, but your wings weren’t responding. The stench of burning feathers and flesh singed your nose as you went down, caught up in the explosion between Scott’s beam and the missile. 

Wind roared in your ears, whipping your hair as you descended, flailing and spiralling, to the ground, trees and ruin rising to bring your fall, and your life, to a sharp end. 

“STORM!”

“ICARUS!”

Two indistinguishable voices exploded in your ears, deafening you over the din of death. You knew this was most likely it. This was most likely the end, but you felt numb peace as the wind kept you company, wrapping around you almost like a blanket as you braced your arms against your chest, pain splitting your body and mind as the open rooftop of a ruined house ripped through your suit and flesh as you struck the ground, knowing nothing more than darkness.

“No…” Logan whispered, his entire world coming to an abrupt halt as you descended past his line of vision, a cloud of black dust rolling from the wreckage of a home. You weren’t dead. You couldn’t be dead. He was moving before he’d even registered it, racing across blackened bodies and charred remains of structures. His throat tore with repeated cries of your name, pushing past collapsed beams and splinters of wood, shoving aside wrecked furniture and broken decor before he saw you.

Lifeless.

In a pool of your own blood. 

Your leg lay in an unnatural angle, your wings charred and broken, your wrist twisted in a way he knew it really shouldn’t be. His blood turned to ice in his veins, face blanching as he couldn’t see the rise and fall of your chest beneath the shrapnel and dust covering you. A jagged wooden spike protruded from the dip between your shoulder and your chest, the entry wound somewhere on your back.

He had to check if you were still alive, but he couldn't move, finding himself frozen in place. He couldn't lose you. Not when he was finally putting the foundations down for your relationship. He couldn't lose you now… 

But seeing your body broken like this… there was no way you could have survived that fall, even with Ororo’s help. She tried to slow your descent too late, a gust of wind appearing from nowhere to catch you just a second after she should have. Maybe you’d still be alive if she'd succeeded. Maybe you’d still be here if he hadn't asked Scott to shoot those fucking drones.

Maybe…

“Fuck! Icarus! Icarus can you hear me?” Storm rushed past him, followed by a horrified Cyclops, and if Logan could focus on anything other than your twisted limbs, he'd see the overwhelming sense of guilt on his face. 

Ororo pushes off the splinters of wood and debris from your body, her movements hurried yet careful, terrified of moving you too much. She placed two trembling fingers against the side of your neck and waited. 

And waited. 

And waited…

Logan thought the moment would never end, silence blanketing the ruined room as the three of them could do nothing but watch, Jean quietly placing a hand on Scott's shoulder. 

“There's a pulse!” Storm cried, a sob of relief erupting from her throat as Jean rushed forward, her hands ghosting the top of your body. 

You were alive. Alive. How the fuck had you survived that? There was no way you could have survived that. You fell from over two hundred feet, how the fuck–

“We need to stabilise her. She's lost a lot of blood and it hasn't stopped. Can you tell what the damage is?” Storm turned to Jean, hoping her telekinesis could find something, anything that would provide more information. 

“Broken ribs, her lung is punctured, I think she's bleeding internally and we can’t remove this or she’ll bleed out… I can't do shit out here, we need to get her back to the school. Now.” Jean's voice took on a tone of authority, spurring Scott back into action, but Logan was still paralysed. It was only two nights ago you were sound asleep on his chest, only yesterday he couldn’t stand being further than two feet from you. 

Logan…

You were alive, but how long for? Was he just given false hope, only to lose you on the way? On the operating table? How much longer did you have? How much longer did he have?

“Logan…”

He wanted to blame Scott. Fuck, he wished he could blame Scott. But the truth was, he asked him to take them out. He was the one who asked if he had a shot. He was the one who coerced him to take it. Would you have been okay? Would you have been able to shake them on your own? Had he single-handedly brought on your fall?

“LOGAN!”

Logan blinked rapidly, eyes burning from how long he was staring, unblinkingly, at your broken body. Numbly, he tore his gaze from you and over to Ororo, and though her brows were pinched in concern, her eyes were hard with determination. 

“I know, but if we wait any longer, we’ll lose her. Think you can clear Jean a path?” She glanced pointedly to the rubble somewhat blocking the doorway, and it took him another second before forcing his body to move, nodding wordlessly to Ororo’s orders. He wasn’t usually one to just mindlessly obey, but he wasn’t able to think straight at the moment and was honestly thankful for the others taking charge. 

He was strong at the best of times, but self-hatred fuelled his arms to work overtime, shoving away impossibly large beams and collapsed part of the wall before there was a clear path for Jean to levitate you through. Your smouldering wings dragged along the ground, tattered and torn, gathering dust and grime along the bloodied tips. Only now had could he get a glimpse of your back, the worst of the damage caking your shoulders and wing joints in blackened crimson. Feathers had burned away, leaving your mutation raw and weeping. You didn’t know what he was talking to Ororo about on the walk to the jet. You didn’t know he was asking her if you had a favourite food, or colour, or flower. You had no idea he’d planned to officially ask you out after the mission. 

Now you might never know.

Scott slowly approached him, looking as if he were in a state of complete shock, replaying what went wrong over and over again in his head. All it took was one glance, and Logan didn’t even need to see his eyes to know they were buried in remorse. He wanted to be furious at him, but he couldn’t. He wanted to be beside himself with desperate anger, but there was nothing to be angry at him for. This wasn’t Scott’s fault…

It was his. 

The ride back to the mansion took days and also five seconds, Jean doing her best to keep you stable whilst Ororo took the pilot’s seat, Scott being in no shape to fly anything. Logan found himself too terrified to touch you as if the slightest movement could worsen your condition. In the silence of the ship, he could hear your haunting, rasped breaths, slow and shallow. The stench of charred flesh and boiled blood made his stomach clench, but not as much as the wounds across your body. He forced himself to look at them. To look at what he’d done to you because of his choices. Forced himself to sear every weeping burn, every broken bone, every blood-soaked bandage into his memory. Your wings, which once held so much majesty and beauty, now lay in tatters, and he had no idea if they would grow back. Would you ever be able to fly again? Logan didn’t know if he’d be able to look himself in the mirror if he’d taken that from you too. 

“She’s going to be okay, Logan. She’s stabilised for now and the Professor already knows the situation. Hank’s on standby and Charles has called in a favour from a surgeon. She’ll be in the best hands possible when we get there.” Jean attempted to comfort him, all the while focussed on keeping you stable from any turbulence and making sure your wounds didn’t worsen. 

“I did this…” he whispered, uttering the first words since watching you fall. Speaking his thoughts into the thick silence, the rest of the team cast glances at each other, Scott running a hand through his hair.

“No… I should have trusted your judgment. I hesitated. Fired too late. You can’t blame yourself for this…” He hissed, dragging the hand from his hair down the side of his face. 

“You both did what you could,” Ororo offered from the cockpit, her eyes still focused on the clouds ahead. “If you hadn’t done anything, she’d be dead by now. Those drones weren’t going to give up and she couldn’t shake them. She’s still here because of what happened, not despite it.” 

Logan couldn’t find the self-compassion to believe her. His eyes still trained on the scattering of feathers beneath where Jean suspended you from the ground. He wearily raised his head when the redhead called his name, her features soft with understanding. 

“Come here,” she gesture him over with a nod of her head, her hands still hovering over your body. Logan hesitated before rising from his seat, to stand by your side, across from Jean. “Place two fingers against the side of her neck,” she instructed, and his breath hitched, eyes darting from your unconscious face to Jean. “You won’t hurt her, just do it.”

Inhaling sharply, Logan softly brushed your hair back from your neck, gently placing two fingers against your pulse point. There he felt the slight, slow thump of your heart still beating. The realisation was enough to bring him to his knees, not caring about the sharp bark of pain as he struck the steel floor. He knew you were alive. Ororo had said as much, but to actually feel you, to feel the evidence of you’re still beating heart, broke through the dam of self-hatred.

His hand cautiously skirted up your jaw to rest against the side of your cheek as he pressed his forehead into your hair, his breath shuddering with the effort to keep himself from falling apart. He didn’t care that he could taste blood and dirt when he softly kissed the side of your head. Didn’t care that now everyone knew how he felt about you. His thumb lightly caressed your cheekbone, smoothing the grimy skin beneath your eye. 

You hadn’t left him yet. You were still here. 

“She’s alive, Logan. And we’re gonna keep her that way,” the conviction in Jean’s eyes was almost enough to settle his heart, but he knew the twisting worry wouldn’t loosen until he saw you open your eyes, your wounds healing, your wings bright again.

Everything ached. Everything. You felt as if you’d been hit by a bus, only for the bus to reverse back over your body, and hit you again. Your wrist barked with sharp pain when you tried to shift, your eyes still closed against the bright lights behind your lids. Something tight was almost cutting off the circulation to your left leg, and inhaling too deeply caused your chest to convulse in agony. The steady beep of a heart rate monitor helped you count roughly how many seconds you’d been conscious. You tried to think back to what could have happened, only to find the last thing you remembered was stooping in a low dive with three drones tailing you. There was an explosion at your back and–

You were falling. 

You’d fallen.

So much for not living up to your name…

With a hissing wince, you cracked your eyes open, only to instantly screw them shut at the sharp burn of bright lights unfamiliar to your retinas. How long have you been out? How did the mission go? Was everybody okay? Was Logan okay? 

With renewed determination, you attempted to open your eyes again, gritting your teeth as you blinked through the burn of adjustment. You knew this ceiling. You knew this table. From your first ever visit to the school, you’d been taken care of in this very room. You groaned slightly, exhaustion already taking its

 toll on your weary bones. Any attempt to move yourself resulted in agony spiking up your spine, white-hot pain cresting through your shoulder blades. Panic gripped your heart as you attempted to move your wings, only to find resistance. Turning your head with a sharp gasp, your eyes welled up with new tears seeing your torn, tattered feathers bound in bandages, held suspended by a sling from the ceiling. They were still attached, so there was that, you supposed, but it had been a long, long time since you’d seen them in this condition. 

You glanced down the bed to find your leg wrapped in a cast, held aloft from the mattress. Your wrist too seemed to be encased in white. You turned your neck to the other side with the intention of gauging the damage to your other wing, before your eyes widened at who you saw, head bowed asleep, in the chair next to your bed. 

Despite yourself and your situation, you couldn’t stop your lips from pulling into a fond, soft smile as Logan snored lightly. He looked truly exhausted, his hair mussed from how many times he’d run his hands through it. You didn’t think it was possible to adore him any more than you already did, but here you were, finding your heart growing three sizes at the sight. 

The doors opposite you slid open, Jean striding through with a clipboard and a thin pair of glasses perched on her nose. She stopped dead when she looked up from her notes, almost dropping her pen to the floor when she registered the fact you were awake. Silently, you placed a finger to your lips, before pointing over to the exhausted Logan in the chair. She smiled with a fond nod, 

Keeping her footsteps light, she crossed the medical bay to take a look at the readings on the screen, before crouching down next to your bed, her eyes focusing on the bandages across the bend of your wing. 

“He hasn’t slept since we got back. Storm had to force him to eat something yesterday. And he hasn’t stepped foot outside this room.” Jean explained, keeping her voice to a low whisper.

“How long’ve I been here…?” you asked, unable to raise your voice louder than a low whisper. Your throat scratched with every word, and you hadn’t realised just how thirsty you were until now. 

“A week and three days. I’m going to slowly reintroduce food into your stomach before taking out the IV, okay?” 

You barely heard the rest of her sentence. A week and three days? That was a little longer than you were expecting, to be honest. 

“Wait… Logan hasn’t slept in over a week?” You managed to rasp a little louder, your chest lurching with concern. That wasn’t healthy for anyone, even someone who could regenerate as fast as he could. No wonder he was utterly spent. 

And it was as if your voice were like an alarm clock. One moment your hushed tones were accompanied by the soft snores of the man in the chair, the next his eyes shot open, your whispered name the first words on his lips. 

Turning your head back to him, your breath caught in your throat. There was a hurricane of emotions swirling in his hazel eyes. Relief, guilt, fear, joy, remorse. A cocktail of feelings clouded his eyes and you wished you had the energy to cup the side of his face and reassure him you were alright. 

Logan’s exhausted haze cleared instantly upon hearing your voice, seeing your eyes open for the first time since he watched you plummet to the ground, and it took a moment for him to realise he wasn’t dreaming. Because he had dreams of this. In the rare moments he physically couldn’t keep his eyes open, his mind would either take him back to your fall or fabricate the moment you woke up. But wherever his dreams took him, he would always wake up with the tight ache of guilt constricting his chest. His waking moments he would spend thinking about what he would say to you if you woke up, planning out a meticulously crafted apology, but everything he wanted to say instantly flew out the window upon actually seeing you awake. 

“Hi…” you whispered, voice still raspy from disuse. And it was your weary, worn smile that tore at the chains around his soul. He couldn’t respond, as if he were the one who’d been lying unconscious for the last two weeks. 

Jean, sensing the tension in the room, stood from her crouched position by your wing, clearing her throat a little before tucking the clipboard flat against the crook of her elbow. 

“I’ll be back in a bit to check up on you and bring you some food.” She murmured, but you barely acknowledged her exit, too fixated on Logan’s expression of disbelief. 

The doors closed as Jean took her leave, blanketing the two of you in a charged silence, the both of you waiting for the other to talk first. 

“Logan I–”

“I’m so sorry, it–”

So naturally, of course, you both spoke at the same time, before falling into another equally uncomfortable silence, once again stuck in the purgatory of waiting for the other. You held your tongue this time, nodding to him with the smallest movement of your head. 

“You’re okay…” he breathed, almost to himself, as if having to remind himself again that this wasn’t in fact a dream. You were awake. You were talking. You weren’t lying lifeless with only the steady beeping of medical equipment to keep him company. Your eyes were open, looking at him with something he was struggling to discern through his addled mind. 

“I’m okay,” you responded softly, watching his features morph from self-hatred to pure relief. He shifted in his seat, head hanging low between his shoulders as he took a shaky breath, and you could see the slight shudder of his shoulders.

“I–” he started, before cutting himself off with a sharp inhale, clamping his teeth together as he struggled to raise his head again. “I thought I lost you.”

Whilst it was nothing but the softest admission, you felt spiderwebs crack through your heart, wanting nothing more than to reach for him, if only your bones didn’t feel like lead. He continued to keep his head low, his hands wringing together between his knees. “It was ’my fault. I didn’t know what to do. You couldn’t shake em and they were closin’ in and Scott wasn’t fuckin’ listenin’ an’–”

“Logan,” you interrupted as loud as you could, your throat tearing at the sudden strain on your voice, causing you to wince slightly. Your hiss of discomfort finally prompted him to raise his head, half standing from his seat to instantly be by your side should you need anything. “I’m okay. Or, I will be. My wings’ve seen worse, and my body will heal with time. I’m okay.”

He searched your face for any sign of deception, any indication that you were just saying this to spare his feelings, or stop him from spiralling into the well of self-hatred once again. He knew it wasn’t the time to ask, but his mind subconsciously filed away that nugget of your past for a later conversation, too focused on the fact his search came up short of anything he was looking for. 

“You’re okay…” he repeated, settling back into the chair by your bed. His eyes fell to your twitching hand, and with a gentleness only reserved for you, his fingers intertwined with yours, bringing your knuckles to his lips. “You’re okay.”

Your heart skipped a beat or several, and you were mildly concerned about setting off the heart rate monitor your abdomen was connected to. You don’t think you’d ever had this many wires connected to your body in your life, not even when Charles first found you. Nobody knows what had happened that day apart from him, and you refused to speak of it. 

“What do you remember?” Logan asked, pressing the back of your hand against the scruff of his cheek, as if desperate to feel you. Your brows furrowed for a moment, your quick trip down trauma lane before you opened your eyes yielding nothing of much use.

“I remember the drones and the targeting dots. I remember one… fired, I think, and missed,” you struggled, screwing your eyes shut in a vain attempt to jog your own memory.  “Uh– then there were two more? One missed and the other exploded before it hit me, but I was caught up in the blast radius. I remember falling and I remember the pain, but that’s about it…” You opened your eyes to find Logan’s expression have shifted once again back to remorse. He really thought it was his fault… didn’t he? “I couldn’t get them off me, Lo’.” You offered quietly.

“I know.”

“I wouldn’t be here if Scott hadn’t fired.”

“I… I know.”

“Logan, you saved my life.”

He placed your hand back on the bed, and you instantly missed the warmth of his palm. “I almost got you killed. I almost lost you. We could have worked somethin’ else out. Storm could’ve–”

“And what if she couldn’t?” You prompted gently, your brows creasing with empathy as you watched him try to wade through the implications of your question. 

“That’s not– I almost–”

“Almost, Logan. Almost. But you didn’t. I’m here. So please stop acting like I’m dead because I might start believing you.” You tried to sound as stern as you could whilst being physically and emotionally drained, and whilst it may have sounded a little weak, Logan knew what you were trying to do. 

He ran a hand through his messy hair which was in desperate need of a wash. Although so were you, you could only imagine. “I didn’t want our last conversation to be an argument.” He murmured, and you sighed as heavily as you could whilst not being able to inhale very deeply. 

“So melodramatic,” you joked with a half-smile, and it took a moment of his eyes scanning your face before his shoulders slumped, huffing a singular laugh through crooked lips. 

“Maybe a little…” he looked up at you through lidded eyes. “Fear doesn’t come naturally t’me. But I don’t think I’ve been more scared than when I was watchin’ you fall, knowin’ I could do nothin’.” 

You finally mustered the strength to reach for him, and he clasped your outstretched hand between both of his like a prayer. You considered for a moment what you would have done had your roles been swapped. If you were so helpless to save him from almost certain death. If you were forced to watch in nearly slow motion as the object of your heart was being ripped away from you and you were powerless against it. Because this was something more than a crush, more than admiration. You loved him. It wasn’t a sudden lightbulb moment, but rather a slow realisation of admission. You loved him. Irrevocably. Possibly irresponsibly. But certainly undeniably. 

“You don’t have to be scared anymore. I’m not dead. I’m not going to die. It’s gonna take time, but I’m okay. And I’m going to be okay.” You implored, and you could almost watch the cogs turning in his head, working on believing you and realising the truth of the situation. 

You. Were. Alive.

He nodded silently, finally accepting what everyone had been trying to tell him for almost a week and a half now. His thumb grazed the tendons of your wrist, the delicate caress sending shivers down your scarred spine. 

“How’re you feeling?” He asked though he couldn’t help thinking it was the most stupid question in the world. 

“Like I just fell over two hundred feet after being blown up.” You responded dryly. Ask obvious questions, get obvious answers. 

Obviously. 

“That checks out.”

“Thank you, Doctor Wolverine.”

How you’d managed to almost die and yet maintain your humour was a mystery to Logan, but it simply added to all the reasons he was completely taken with you. You were easily one of the strongest people he knew, in spite of your own self-consciousness. The way you felt about your wings had already proven that. They were the greatest source of your diffidence, and yet you often said how incomplete you would feel without them. He saw how you battled, every day, between loving and hating them. Not many people did, but he did. 

Perhaps that was because, to him, you were the focal point of every conversation. The spotlight in the room. The brightest star in the sky. Not only did he see you, but he saw you. 

That was when he remembered your words from earlier. ‘My wings’ve seen worse…’   

“What did you mean?”

“When?”

“When you said your wings have been worse. What did you mean?” 

Logan knew he’d struck a nerve when your wry humour dissolved from your face, and he watched you withdraw back into your own mind, another silence creating a barrier between you. It was another mental battle. He could see it. And he could only hazard a guess that you were struggling between opening yourself up to whatever traumas you’d experienced in the past, or staying closed and comfortable. 

“This world is cruel and cold to people like us…” your voice was barely audible, and despite his enhanced hearing, Logan found himself shifting closer, drawn in by your siren’s whisper. “I was always jealous of people who could hide their mutation. Or mutations that didn’t take on a physical appearance, anyway. Because hiding something like phasing or shapeshifting is easy. Hiding a pair of giant fucking wings? Get’s a little harder when not everyone around you is very accepting…” you were being vague on purpose. Taking yourself back to the day Charles found you was never easy, and it was this exact reason why you kept this to yourself. Only he knew what happened, and Jean was the only other one who’d seen your condition. 

Logan fought the urge to run his fingers through your feathers, slightly worried it would hurt you more than it would soothe you, since most of your secondary feathers had been burned away or torn off, and the exposed ligaments had been covered in bandages. You took a breath before you continued. “The neighbourhood where I lived wasn’t exactly high-end, and less than welcoming to mutants. I used to listen to a lot of music when I left my apartment, it helped to drown out the insults and hatred but uh, it also prevented me from hearing anyone following me.

“It was stupid. I was tired and forgot to lock my fucking door before I fell asleep that night. Such an idiot. And I paid the price. I can’t really remember exactly when it happened, and it’s all sort of a blur to be honest. I never saw their faces either, and I only knew they were there when they shoved a gag between my teeth and held me down, jeering about me being a disgusting mutant, the usual bullshit…” you trailed off, your words sticking to your throat like molasses as you recounted possibly the most traumatic moment of your life. Narrowly holding the top spot after recent events. “They uh, tried to sever them. My wings. Used a carving knife or a paring knife, hell it could have been a butter knife for all I knew. But it hurt. And I couldn’t fight them off. I probably still have the scars. They were barely attached by the time they were startled by something and took off.”

Logan placed his hand against your cheek, gently smoothing away the stray tear sliding down the side of your face with the pad of his thumb. 

“That’s why you don’t sleep on your front?”

“That’s why I don’t sleep on my front,” You affirmed with a timid nod, and Logan felt his heart clench painfully. He always wondered where your intense passion for making the world a safer place came from. “At least,” you continued quietly. “Until you.”

His eyes widened a fraction, and it wasn’t hard to piece together what you meant. The night, two days before the mission. That was the first time you’d slept on your front since Charles and Jean found you all those years ago. That was why you mentioned it. That was why you were so adamant about it. 

Your vulnerability was taken advantage of and used to further the cycle of hatred and violence. 

“Sweetheart…” 

You couldn’t bear to hear the slight break in his voice, the horrified empathy creasing his brows. “So yeah. That’s what I meant. When I said they’ve been through worse. So actually, this really isn’t all that bad. They’ll recover. They did last time. Might be a while before I can fly again but I think I’m okay with that for a while, not sure I want to–” your rambling was cut short by the sudden decrease of proximity between the two of you. Was he always this close? Or had he shifted? Had you simply not noticed? Too lost in your second trip down trauma lane in the space of twenty minutes? You could feel his steady breaths fanning your cheeks.

“You’re safe. With me. An’ nothin’ like that will ever happen again. ‘M gonna look after you, angel. Promise.” His eyes flickered from your gaze, down to your lips, and back up in a silent request, and your body answered for you. Your eyes fluttered closed, heart igniting at the first graze of his soft lips against yours, the pain in your back forgotten as your skin prickled with shivers. 

The moment he felt you lean up into him as much as you could, Logan gasped through his nose, his fingers skirting up the side of your neck, pausing to feel your pulse before continuing to brace his palm against your jaw. He wanted to feel you, in any way he could and in any way you would let him, your lips dancing with his languidly. And through the salves and disinfectant, through the blood and the grease, the smoke clinging to your hair, he could just smell you. Amber and wood oak swirled through his senses, and he didn’t think it fair that you smelled like a fucking autumnal forest. 

You tried to push yourself up further toward him, a fresh wave of yearning hitting you like a fall from over two hundred feet, but your ribs barked in sharp protest, and you flinched back with a harsh hiss, your features scrunching in pain.

“Easy there, angel. ‘M not goin’ anywhere.” He breathed, and whilst you could detect genuine concern in his tone, there was also a hint of smug satisfaction.

“Sorry… got kinda carried away.” You clamped your lips together at his soft chuckle, finding immeasurable comfort in the way his thumb smoothed along your under-eye.”

“Been wantin’ to do that for a while…” He murmured against your lips, and you drew back as far as you could without jostling your back too much.

“Really? How long?”

“Round a year or so.”

You blanched. “A year!?”

“Give or take a few months,” he shrugged, unable to tame the delicious grin pulling at his lips. 

“And you didn’t think to do anything?” You asked incredulously, eyes flicking between his, unable to decide just where they wanted to settle. 

“Inappropriate in the workplace.” He shrugged nonchalantly, and your eyes widened further. 

“We live under the same roof! This isn’t just a workplace.”

“Potato pot-ah-to.”

“No! Potato potato. It’s the same thing!”

He raised a sly brow. “Didn’t see ya pull back, angel. How long’ve you wanted this then?”

You clamped your lips shut, your face a picture of false irritation as he turned your own accusations back onto you, a triumphant glint dancing in his eye. “Thought s’much.”

A huff brushed his chin, though you couldn’t tame your guilty smile for long. Yes, he was absolutely right. You’d wanted to do that for far longer than you cared to admit. And the phrase ‘good things come to those who wait’ couldn’t ring more true. Though you couldn’t help thinking they should change the phrase slightly. 

‘Good things come to those who nearly die’. Yeah, that sounded more accurate. 

Your head lulled against his hand, a tugging wave of exhaustion pulling at your mind, your eyes feeling heavy with sleep. It was strange. Usually, you found it so difficult to find rest, tossing and turning until you simply couldn’t take it anymore. But not in his presence. Not when Logan was with you. 

He hummed a soft, fond smile of understanding, pulling the chair closer to the bed so he could still be near you. Pressing his lips to your forehead, you sighed in contentment, your hand holding his arm in a soft grip, silently asking him not to go anywhere. But you didn’t need to. He had no plans on leaving you anytime soon. 

“Sleep, angel. ‘M here. You’re safe.”

[hotyanderedaddies]

Yandere Jock wants Nerdy You... Badly

🦦: Hi, it's my first time requesting without anon, so please excuse any awkwardness.

Can I request maybe yandere jock/bully x  extremely anxious male reader with an oral fixation? Only if you want, though.

A/N: I decided to go with jock since I haven’t written that yet. Hope you like it!

[Yandere! Jock x Anxious! GN! Reader]

·゜·:.。..。.:·☆·゜·:.。..。.:·☆

Chase is the captain of the baseball team, and he’s helped lead the team to several victories. He’s an all-star athlete and has scores of girls (and some guys) throwing themselves at his feet. As if his position at the top of the school sports hierarchy wasn’t enough, the young man was also blessed with a pretty impressive body too— muscles for days and coming in well over six feet tall.

And he loves you so much!

But you don’t pay too much attention to Chase because you’re too busy hiding away from everyone due to your extreme social anxiety.

It feels like a curse, really. The mere thought of being trapped in a building (a.k.a. school, *shudder) with a whole bunch of other people who all stare at you and talk about you behind your back is torture!

Hence, you try your best to blend into the crowd and not stand out.

After reading a tip in a mental health article, you resulted to sucking on hard candy when you get stressed out. Your nerves start to climb? You pop a little mint into your mouth and suck on it.

It helps.

And it also garnered the attention of a certain jock.

The mere millisecond that Chase had first seen you popping a piece of candy into your mouth and sucking on it as if your life depended on it, he swore his heart had skipped a beat.

“So cute,” he’d whispered to himself as his eyes honed in on you— focusing on his cute little darling.

He has something else for you to suck on.

And from that moment on, Chase knew you are his.

You just didn’t know it yet. He just had to court you.

Unfortunately, with your social anxiety, that proved to be a little challenge to the lovesick jock.

Chase would frequently wait by your locker for you, trying to strike up a simple conversation that would lead to him asking you out. However, every time you’d see the big guy, you would turn bright red and pop a candy into your mouth, turning around and heading straight for your class instead.

Chase tried to offer you a ride home so that you wouldn’t have to ride the bus— but the idea of one-on-one time in a cramped car with a guy sent shivers down you spine, and you’d barely had time to blurt out, “No thanks!” before sprinting to the bus.

Chase even “surprisingly” transferred into some of your classes. And with one glare at the students sitting next to you, they’d fled, allowing him to take any seat that was closest to yours… but you would refuse to look up from your textbooks, your jaw clenched as you sucked on some hard candy.

But Chase is persistent.

One day, as you’re leaving English class, Chase utilizes his impressive bulk to block the classroom exit from you.

“Hey, Y/N,” he said in his deep voice, trying to act all nonchalant, yet his Adam’s apple quivered when he noticed you sucking on something.

“Oh,” you muttered, your face already growing cherry red, “h-hi Chase.” The exaggerated size difference between you and the jock was striking. He completely towered over you and was at least twice as wide with solid muscle. It really made your heart beat faster, both from fear and a little because you thought it was hot.

You sucked on your candy even harder.

Chase casually leaned against the door jam, crossing his big arms in front of his beefy chest. “So, I was wonderin’ if you’d come see me play tonight?” he asked, playfully flexing his massive biceps, the muscle curling out of his short sleeves with the action.

Your eyes widened, but still, the idea of being in the crowded bleachers with a bunch of screaming, rowdy people wasn’t something you looked forward to.

“Um…” you began, trying to think up an excuse to turn Chase down.

Chase could sense your hesitation, and before you could put two and two together, the large jock reached out and snatched you up. He easily tossed you over his broad shoulder, as if you weighed absolutely nothing.

Chase felt on top of the world carrying you, like this was where you belonged: in his arms.

You were stunned silent, unable to move a muscle while in the strong grip of the large jock, who carried you off towards where you assumed would be the gym…

But Chase passed the gym, and even exited the school, heading towards the parking lot.

“Um, wh-where are we going?” you asked. “I thought you had a game?”

Chase puffed out his chest with pride.

He has you! He finally has you! And he’s not going to let go.

Chase stopped in front of his car, practically tossing you inside.

He quickly ran to the driver’s side, starting up the car and speeding off, taking you, his Darling, home with him so that he can really see your sucking skills in action!

[finelinefae]

birdy [Pilot!harry x teacher!y/n]

synopsis: it’s the 1950s. harry's had a hard life and y/n just wants the truth

word count: 12.3k

contains: fluff, angst, childhood trauma, nightmares, abusive father, neglectful parents, grovelling, smut (size kink, tiny praise kink, breeding kink, oral m receiving)

this is part 3 of the aviator read part 2 here

this could have gone one of two ways...

. . .

Y/N was convinced that returning to the airbase took only half as much time as the journey to reach the campsite. She hated hiking, even more so after this trip, but she had places to be so she charged down the trail all the way back to the airbase. The clouds overhead seemed to mirror her anger, morphing into shades of grey, empathising with her mood. 

“Y/N, Harry went back earlier this morning. We came back from the bonfire and he was hyperventilating and shit. Thought he was gonna pass out so me and Pat went to get him some water but when we got back he was gone.” Sonny had told her when she had asked why Harry was missing. 

Y/N’s mind instantly went to the night she had woken up to one of Harry’s nightmares. She wondered whether or not that had something to do with his sudden disappearance. However, it didn't seem to cool the anger she felt that seemingly continued to grow with every fueled step she took back towards Offutt. 

As she made it out of the clearing, she noticed a figure sitting under a tree in the distance. She paused, squinting her eyes and immediately recognising those broad shoulders and that head full of brunette curls. Now that she could finally see him, she wondered if it would be better to just let him sit and wallow in whatever guilt he may or may not be feeling but she considered confronting things like this as self-care and she wouldn’t allow herself to return home without knowing why she had woken up alone this morning. 

She ignored the droplets of rain that began to fall slowly from the sky. Instead, she trudged through the slightly muddy grass. Y/N caught his head turn as though he sensed her incoming. He shot up, standing tall and began to walk towards her. 

Harry couldn’t even react when he saw the anger radiating from her face. He knew what he had done and there was no good reason for it, “Y/N-”

When she was finally in front of him, Y/N took a deep breath to steady herself. “Don’t ever disrespect me like that again,” she said firmly, her voice carrying her emotions. Then, turning away, she began to walk away from him. 

She felt a hand wrap around her wrist but she tugged it, breaking free from his grip, “No,” She turned around to face him, “You walk away from me, I walk away from you.” It’s what she planned to do all along, make him realise how much it hurt to have someone turn their back on you.

Harry’s heart seemed to crack as her voice trembled, “Y/N,” 

“Why?” Her bottom lip wobbled but she held her breath, trying to be stronger than him, “Why would you do that? Y’know, I’ve put a lot of faith in you Harry, I trusted you. People labelled you so many things and I always backed you up but that was just…Mean. You are being mean.” 

“I know, I know,” Harry said, which only fuelled her anger even more. He had no idea what it felt like to wake up alone, especially after admitting something so honest. 

“You have no idea,” Her voice raised, “You have no idea what that felt like because you will always be the person who leaves.” 

Harry couldn’t seem to find the words. She was right and finally seeing him how he saw himself. There was nothing good about him and he had been told that his entire life by all the people he cared about. Everything he loved as a child was taken away from him with claw marks all over them. He had been forced to grow up, leave home and raise three kids. He knew one day that they too would be taken away from him- they’d find better people, a happier life -  and he would be left with nothing because it was all that he had known and all that he had deserved. 

Y/N couldn’t seem to fathom how he stood there in complete silence. The silence seemed to birth a new feeling inside her, another seed planted in her slow-burning heartbreak. 

Until His voice murmured something, barely audible to her ear, "It was you."

She stilled, “What?” 

His head lifted and she finally got to see him through the fog of anger. His cheeks were tear stained, his eyes red-rimmed and tired like he had barely slept. His hair looked as though he had run his fingers through them one too many times. “In my nightmare, it was you.” He confessed. 

Y/N was struggling to breathe, “What are you talking about?” She whispered, her eyes glassy.

“I haven’t experienced it that way in so long, I-I thought I was okay now.” Harry's chest rose and fell with each heavy breath.

“What did they do to you?” Y/N took a step forward. 

“I thought I was at home. I-I was in my room in my own body and my pops was there sitting in his armchair. He wouldn’t stop laughing at me and then I looked down and saw y’ on the floor,” Harry inhaled sharply like he was picturing the moment as he was re-calling it, “I tried to wake y’ up but you wouldn’t reply, y’ wouldn’t wake up and he was just sat there laughing and laughing. I was calling for help but no one could hear me and t-then he started saying I did it.”

Y/N couldn’t hold back her tears anymore as Harry began to cry. She wanted to reach out for him, to remove every bad thing that had ever happened to him and replace them with good. 

“He said it was me who hurt you,” He cried, “I tried to save you Y/N but I couldn’t and he was just laughing.” 

“Harry,” Y/N whispered, grabbing his hand and feeling him grip her fingers so tightly she thought it would cut off the circulation.

“I woke up outside,” He murmured, sniffling, “I was sitting out somewhere in the morning and Sonny and Patsy found me. I could hardly catch m’breath and they went off to get something that’d help but I was too ashamed. I couldn’t face them and I couldn’t face you either.” 

"Why?" Y/N couldn't help but ask, despite all the times she had promised him she would be there for him.

Harry's gaze fell to the ground as he struggled to find the words. “Because,” He huffed, trying to smile but he just looked broken, “What’s a girl like you doing with someone like me? God, I love you so much Y/N. I’ve never loved anybody in m’ whole life and the only thing I know about it is that y’ give the people y’ love what they are most deserving of and you deserve so much more than what I can give.” 

Y/N’s lips parted but he continued, “I have nothing. I am nobody. Outside of this place, I have nothing. I come from a family of nobodies and you…you are everything.” 

Y/N’s heart ached with every word he spoke and the vulnerability and pain on his face. She felt as though he was cutting himself open and he had nothing more he could hide away from her, “Harry, you are changing that.” She whispered, her voice filled with conviction.

He frowned, puzzled by her words, uncertain of their meaning. “The way you are with your brothers and Elise, what you’ve given them, it is the biggest example of love I have ever seen. This life you’ve shown them here comes from your love Harry.” She said, a smile breaking through her tears as his expression softened. She reaches up to cup his cheek in her hand, “I don’t want you to give me something better, I want you to give me you and the love I have seen you give to the people you care about. And I want to give you love too because I love you more than words can even comprehend and you are so deserving of it.” 

Harry’s eyes close softly as if he can’t quite believe the words he’s hearing and he’s trying to absorb it all. Y/N pulls his head down so their foreheads are pressed against each other, “Maybe you thought you had nothing but you always had love and if this is your nothing then I want all of it. That is what I want you to give to me.” She whispers. 

There's a pause, a moment of silent understanding between them, as Harry processes her words. His eyes slowly flutter open, revealing a depth of emotion that takes her breath away. She sees in his gaze a mixture of disbelief and gratitude as if her words have unlocked something within him that he never thought possible.

And then, as if drawn by an invisible force, Harry's hands find their way to her face, his touch gentle yet firm. It's as if he's trying to memorise every contour, every line, every curve as if he's afraid that this moment might slip away if he doesn't hold on tight enough.

"There is nothing in this world that means more to me than you," he whispers, his voice barely above a breath. "Thank you," he adds, his words filled with sincerity and love.

Y/N smiles softly, her eyes reflecting warmth and understanding. "That's okay," she says gently.

The rain pours around them as they stand underneath the shelter of the tree. Harry doesn’t even ask for permission, too eager to, as he presses his lips to hers. Y/N squeaks in surprise but melts into him when she allows herself to feel all the things he can’t communicate, put into every motion of his lips.

Harry feels new like the burden of his childhood is eased from his shoulders as the light from her kiss injects itself into his body. He wonders how he could ever allow himself to walk away from this, “I’m so sorry Y/N.” He says against her lips, “I love you, I’m sorry.” 

Y/N sighs, “We’ll learn,” She says, “We’ll get better and we’ll both learn.” 

It’s more than just words of forgiveness, it’s a promise and the start of something new. 

When they finish kissing, they both look up at the sky and see how hard the rain is pouring, “I think I’m over this trip now.” Y/N sighs, “I don’t think I ever want to go camping again.”

“Oh c’mon it was fun,” Harry teases with a sniffle but then sees her deadpan expression, “Okay it could have been better but at least we’re together now.” 

Y/N takes her hand away from him and crosses her arms, “Who decided that?” 

Harry’s face drops, “I-I thought-.” 

She quirks a brow, “I haven’t forgiven you for leaving me yet. That was just cruel and you should know better!”

Harry looked at her apologetically “I know baby-“ He reached for her hand but she swiftly moved away, stepping out into the rain and walking back towards the trail. 

“I won’t be letting you off so easily.” Harry’s shoulders slumped as he stayed glued to the floor, watching her walk away from him. 

He tried not to smile as she stumbled over the uneven ground, her clothes getting wet from the rain. He cupped his mouth and yelled, “But y’ still love me right?” 

“Of course I do you idiot!” She yelled over her shoulder.

Harry smiled, “I love you too, bigger than the whole sky Y/N.”

“Oh yeah?” Y/N yelled, “Prove it!”

Harry chuckled, running over to join her in the rain. 

. . .

To grovel actually meant to get down on your knees and beg for not only days but weeks in Y/N’s books which Harry had gradually come to realise. 

They returned from the airbase before everybody else and arrived at Y/N’s house to shower. Harry had tried to persuade Y/N to shower with him, using the classic excuse of ‘it’ll save water’ but she was too smart for that and he knew better. 

Soon, life resumed its usual rhythm after the camping trip, but there was a noticeable change in Y/N and Harry. Others noticed the absence of tension between them, seeing the love reflected in their gazes whenever they looked at each other. However, they couldn't understand why Y/N refused to acknowledge their relationship, or why Harry seemed so smitten and eager- all of a sudden walking around like he was a lovesick puppy in need of attention. 

Every day Harry would be doing something for Y/N, whether it was buying her flowers at the start of every week or walking her home during his work breaks. He’d rarely ever be seen with another woman, let alone make eye contact with them, all because he was desperate to make it up to the only woman he’d ever want for the rest of his life. 

“Y/N,” Francine, one of the nursery workers, called her name as she was washing up paint pots in the sink, “He’s here for you.”

Y/N tried to hide her smile, “Could you tell him to wait please Fran?” 

Soon Fran returned and in her arms was a giant bouquet, “He couldn’t stay very long,” She handed Y/N the roses, “But he told me to give you these.”

Y/N’s eyes widened, her hands still dripping wet as she held the red roses in her arms. She placed them on the countertop and took out the card attached to the bouquet. ‘I love you bigger than the whole sky, your Harry.’ 

Y/N bit down on her lip as she folded the small piece of paper and slid it into the front pocket of her apron. “When’s that boy gonna put a ring on y’ finger?” Loretta, one of the older nursery workers asked. 

Y/N scoffed, “Only if he can get near my hand first, Loretta.” 

Although marriage would definitely not be happening anytime soon, the picture of it in her mind made her smile. 

In the evening, Y/N had been enjoying some much-needed girl time with Molly and Patsy. Y/N hadn’t seen Nancy since the night of the bonfire. She was rarely ever home to the point where the girls wondered why she even bothered renting her room out for much longer. 

They sat around the living room in pink robes, watching a movie and reading magazines. It had been a while since Y/N had had some downtime with her housemates. So much of her time had been either working or being trapped in the whirlwind that was her relationship with Harry. 

“Can I have some of that?” Patsy asked, unable to keep her eyes off the television as she held her hand out for the bottle of wine. 

Molly passed it over but her eyes narrowed on Patsy, “Is that Sonny’s sweatshirt you’re wearing under that?” 

Patsy finally looked away, her mouth opening and closing, “N-no?” She lied, terribly. 

“Did you sleep with him?” Molly questioned.

Patsy swallowed, “No…maybe…yes.” 

Patsy's feeble attempt at denial only made Y/N and Molly laugh harder. Y/N struggled to stifle her giggles, while Molly's laughter rang out loud and clear.

"And? How was it?” Molly urged, her eyes twinkling with mischief.

Patsy’s face flushed bright red, “It was good.”

“That’s it?” Molly frowned.

“Fine,” Patsy’s shoulders slumped, “It was wonderful, Mol. The best I’ve ever had.”

“You’re lying,” 

“It’s true!” Patsy exclaimed, “There’s just something about ‘em, right Y/N? You slept with Harry already didn’t you?”

Y/N’s smile fell from her face, “Huh?”

Molly smirked, “Now you definitely cannot lie about that. Everyone knows it.”

Y/N's smile faltered, confusion flickering in her eyes. "What do you mean, everyone knows?"

Molly's smirk widened. "Come on, Y/N. It's written all over your face. You've got that look all the girls have, you know the one where they lie about being with someone when it’s clearly not the truth."

Y/N's cheeks flushed as realisation dawned on her. "Oh," she murmured, suddenly feeling self-conscious.

"So, spill it," Molly urged, leaning in with a mischievous glint in her eye. "Have you?"

“I don’t know…Maybe,” She could feel the corner of her lips tugging upwards and her hands quickly shot up to cover her face.

Her two housemates squealed, jumping up from the couch with excitement, “You have?” Molly grinned. 

“Yes!” Y/N laughed. 

“Tell us all about it!” Patsy fell to the floor and leaned in towards her. 

“O-Oh, I-” But as luck would have it, Y/N was interrupted by the doorbell ringing and then the door swinging open. 

“Patsy?” Sonny’s voice rang down the hallway as he invited himself in again. 

Molly rolled her eyes, annoyed, “What is it?”

Footsteps sounded against the hardwood floors as Sonny entered the living room. His eyes landed on the girls as they sat on the floor, “What are you doing?”

"What does it look like we're doing?" Molly retorted, crossing her arms defensively.

"Can I join in?" He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Patsy groaned, "Just tell us what you want, already."

“Oh,” Sonny shook his head as if reminding himself why he was here, “Elise is sick,”

Y/N stood up, “What? How sick?”

“George has had to bath her four times already and Harry can’t seem to get her to sleep. It’s manic in that house, y’ gotta help us out.” Sonny begged. 

"But it's girl's night," Molly said firmly, gesturing toward the girls in their gowns. "And we're not your nurses or your babysitters."

"Please?" Sonny's eyes pleaded, darting towards Y/N.

Y/N sighed, relenting. "Fine. Let me get dressed." She manoeuvred past the girls seated on the floor and headed upstairs to her room to change.

“What? Patsy, y’ can’t be serious?” Molly whined. 

“It’s Elise and Sonny’s sister.” Patsy shrugged as though it was reason enough. 

Molly huffed, knowing no matter what she said it wouldn’t be enough to persuade them to help a sick child. The girl’s night they had planned would just have to be put on hold,  “Alright,” She conceded. 

Sonny led the girls across the estate to the Styles’ household. Along the way, Y/N and Molly teased Patsy and Sonny when they noticed them holding hands inside the pocket of Sonny’s aviator coat. The closer they got to the house, the more they could hear Elise wailing from inside. 

He swung the door open, the girls following behind, “I’m back!” Sonny called as they entered the kitchen, “I bought reinforcements.”

Harry turned around when they all stepped into the room. He was shirtless, holding onto a crying Elise, her little face all scrunched up and red. His eyes immediately gravitated towards Y/N, “You’re here,” He sighed as if the sight of her had alleviated some of the stress he was feeling. 

Y/N walked straight up to him and took Elise out of his grip, “M here,” She sighed, “Oh sweet girl, it’s okay,” Y/N kissed the side of the two-year-olds head, swaying her side to side in her arms. 

“She’s been sick all afternoon, must have got it off some kid at the nursery.” Harry exclaimed, his eyes tired from taking care of his sister and being at work all day, “I’ve tried everything. Normally singing her to sleep helps but she won’t seem to settle and I’m all out of ideas.”

“Hey,” Y/N placed a hand on his shoulder, feeling his warm skin, “It’s okay, we’re here to help you.”

He relaxed beneath her touch, the sentiment making him smile, “Y’ don’t have to,” Harry murmured. 

“Harry,” Y/N gave him a stern glare, “I want to.” 

His lips curved into a grateful smile as he nodded. "Thank you."

Y/N was so ensnared by his captivating eyes she had to force herself to look away, “Go shower. We’ll clean up down here.” 

Harry saluted playfully, brushing past her but not before pressing a hasty kiss to her cheek. Y/N gasped, spinning around and seeing a hint of a smirk on his face as he ran up the stairs.

“Ha Ha,” Elise croaked, pointing at her brother. 

Y/N’s expression softened at the little girl’s tired voice, “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

As Sonny and Patsy helped clean the kitchen, Molly made a start on dinner and George and Y/N bathed Elise in the kitchen sink. Although Elise was exhausted from being sick all afternoon, everyone went about their chores whilst trying to bring a smile to her face. Whenever she giggled at George and Sonny's antics or Patsy's playful arguing with Sonny whenever he attempted to flirt with her, the group would cheer from their achievement at making her laugh. 

Once they’d put all the dishes on the table, Harry had come down from his shower. Y/N drew in a breath when he walked through the door with damp curls and a towel around his waist, “Jus’ need to grab something,” He smirked as he walked past Y/N who caught the smell of his coconut shampoo. 

As Y/N stood at the kitchen sink to get rid of Elise’s bath water, she felt his solid form come up behind her. Her lips parted, a breath of air escaping her, as he placed a hand on her shoulder and gently squeezed. With his other arm, he reached out, his hand still resting on her shoulder, to open the cupboard above her and pulled out a clean hand towel.

The warmth spreading through her body dissolved once he pulled away. She let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding when she heard his feet against the floor fade as he left the room. 

To her side, Molly and Patsy were trying not to laugh as they covered their mouths and tried to resume what they had previously been talking about before they were briefly interrupted. Y/N rolled her eyes and walked to the table to begin plating up dinner for everybody. 

Harry had returned from his shower and now sat at the end of the table with Y/N to his right and Elise beside her sitting in a high chair. She was nibbling at the food George had prepped for her, taking small bites when she felt like it.

Everyone tucked into their meal as a smooth jazz record lulled in the background. Suddenly, breaking the comfortable silence, George piped up, “So is everyone dating at this table?” 

Sonny groaned, “Why’d you bring that up?”

“Because!” George paused, cutting into his meat, “I can’t handle the tension in this room, it’s like you all want to have sex with each other.” 

“George don’t be so vulgar,” Molly snapped, her tone sharp, “But he does have a point.” 

“Well Patsy and I are together,” Sonny put an arm around Patsy’s shoulders only to receive an angry glare in return, “What?” He took his arm back, “They already figured it out!”

“Well, what about Y/N and Harry,” Patsy crossed her arms, wanting to divert the attention to something else, all heads turning to face the couple at the end of the table.

“Well, I-I-“ Y/N was all flustered, not knowing how to approach the subject until Harry stepped in.

“It’s up to Y/N,” Harry shrugged, taking a bite from his fork. Y/N’s head whipped in his direction, “I’ll do whatever she wants me to do.” 

As he spoke the words, she felt his hand land on her thigh. Y/N stilled as he squeezed her knee but instead of freezing like she always seemed to do with him, she placed her hand on top of his and flipped his hand over to intertwine their fingers wanting to show him at least some grace for his ability to speak when she couldn’t find the words. 

“Well good for Y/N. You see not all girls are easily swayed by you boys, you know.” Molly remarked.

“Ahh are you sure about that Mol? Maybe it’s just because you���re the only girl here who hasn’t tried to sleep with any of us.” George quipped with a teasing grin. 

Molly scowled, “Don’t you have to follow Nancy around or something?”

Sonny burst out laughing as George’s face fell, “Yeah yeah, you can all laugh but the other day I swear I almost got a smile outta her.” 

“Oh nice, an almost smile yeah that’s really great George.” Everyone laughed around the table.

By the time dinner was over and everyone had been ridiculed at least once, Elise was already half asleep. Harry volunteered to tuck her in, lifting her gently and carrying her upstairs to her bedroom. As the others stepped outside for a smoke break, Y/N took it upon herself to clear the empty plates and tidy up.

Before tidying, Y/N went upstairs to use the bathroom. As she climbed the steps, she noticed a partially open door. Intrigued by the humming coming from the room, she quietly peeked inside.

It was dark other than a small candle lit up in the corner of the room. Harry stood by the window with Elise in his arms. Her cheek was resting on his shoulder as her small hands fisted the sleeve of his shirt. His big hand rubbed up and down her tiny back as her eyes fluttered open and closed. She almost resembled a cherub resting on a fluffy cloud as Harry hummed her to sleep, his head turning an inch to press a soft kiss to the side of her head. 

Y/N's eyes glistened with an emotion she couldn't quite place. Her heart felt like it was trying to leap out of her chest and walk into the room to join them. The longer she stayed fixed on the two siblings, alone in one space, it seemed as if they were the only two people existing, if only for a brief moment in time.

Not wanting to disturb their peace and quiet, Y/N carefully tiptoed away from them to give them the space they needed. 

She stood at the kitchen sink and began filling it with water and soap. Her mind drifted to the image of Harry holding Elise almost as if he were her own father. Y/N’s heart had been hurting for Harry and his siblings ever since he had broken down to her on the hill. A part of her wondered if she was doing all this because she felt she had to fulfil some kind of duty to them but it never felt like work helping the Styles’ siblings, she just had a spot for them in her heart that was growing exponentially by the day. 

Y/N felt that presence that had become so familiar to her, come up behind her as she cleaned the dishes. His arms snaked around her waist, swaying them slowly to the gentle bossa nova that played over the record player, “Dance with me,” He murmured, pulling her away from the sink. 

Y/N laughed, spinning around in his arms and pressing her wet and soapy hands to his face. Harry’s face scrunches, “Have I told y’ I love y’ today?” He asked, nuzzling his cheek in her palm. 

“Hmm,” Y/N pretended to think, “I don’t think so.”

“Well I do,” He says, “I love you bigger than the whole sky, Birdy.” 

“I love you too,” Y/N replies because she always will no matter how angry she is or was with him. 

“Enough to forgive me?” He tries but his face already says he knows the answer. 

Y/N inches forward, her lips brushing his, “Almost,” 

Harry grins, pulling her in closer, “This could be our life y’know.” 

“What could?” 

“All this,” He motions to the house, “We have our own house and make our own food. Everyone is safe and we’re happy. Maybe have a couple of kids-”

Y/N scoffs, “A couple?” 

“Alright,” Harry chuckles, his head falling back, “One, five, eight or even zero, I don’t care I jus’ wanna be with you.” 

“That sounds nice,” Y/N sighed, falling in love with the image she had painted in her mind, “And we’d live here?” 

Harry kissed the top of her head, resting his cheek on it as they swayed, “We can live wherever y’ want Birdy, I go where you go.” 

Y/N can’t help but pull his neck down to kiss her. Even though they weren’t exactly together, Y/N couldn’t help but kiss him when she wanted to, which was more often than it wasn’t. She’d never tire of the way his lips felt against hers, how she’d melt in his embrace and feel his heart beating against his chest. 

“Just so we’re clear, this doesn’t mean we’re together,” Y/N mumbled against his lips.

“I know Birdy, I know.” He smiles, kissing her even harder.

Harry ends up helping Y/N clean the kitchen, drying the dishes while she washes them. It's a new experience for him, doing something domestic with the person he loves. It feels small and simple yet meant more to him than he could seem to understand.

“Since I’m tryin’ to be better, I gotta tell y’ something,” Harry pinches her sleeve, needing to touch her in some way at all times.

“What’s wrong?” Y/N asked, immediately beginning to worry. 

“Oh no it’s nothing so bad, it’s just my Mama sent us a letter a few weeks ago and I think ‘m gonna go visit her without the boys.” He shrugs, “Jus’ to check in on her y’ know?” 

Y/N knew Harry didn’t want to admit the truth about his visit. Despite the fact he never had a close relationship with his mother, he had always been her protector. Harry couldn’t stay away from his home no matter how hard he tried, too afraid that if he did, something detrimental would happen and he’d feel nothing but guilt for the rest of his life. 

“On your own?” Y/N frowned, “Y’ don’t even want George to come with you?”

“If George goes he’ll jus’ get upset. I probably won’t even tell ‘em I’m going, I jus’ wanna make sure everything is okay. Maybe if I show m’ face she’ll stop sending so many letters every weekend.” His voice carried a mix of concern and weariness.

“Well okay,” Y/N paused for a brief second, “I mean I could come with you, maybe, i-if that’s something you’d want.”

Fear flashed in Harry’s eyes, “No,” He stated firmly, “I’m not letting you anywhere near that old bastard.”

Y/N knew he was referring to his father, “I won’t let you go alone, Harry. It’s either me or one of your brother’s but I will not let you go into that house by yourself.” She wasn’t going to lie and say that she wasn’t afraid for him. She’d never met his Father or truly knew the depths to which he had gone into causing such trauma for Harry but she wasn’t going to allow it to continue. “Please, let me come with you.”

Harry opened his mouth to immediately reject her offer but paused, considering her words carefully. He saw the determination in her eyes, the fierce loyalty she held for him, and it touched something deep within him. He also knew she was stubborn and wouldn’t let up over something like this no matter how much he refused. 

After a moment of silence, he sighed, relenting. "Alright," he finally murmured, his voice laced with apprehension. "But promise me, Y/N, you'll stay close and keep your guard up. My old man... he's not an easy man to deal with. We’ll be in and out of tha’ house all in the same day.”

Y/N nodded solemnly, her resolve unwavering, “Thank you,” She said. 

. . .

With the days that passed before Harry would return to his childhood town, his fear and anxiety seemed to grow. His nightmares had continued to worsen, each one of them had turned into one about Y/N. On the nights when Y/N slept in her own bed, he found himself walking through the dimmed streets in the middle of the night to sneak into her house and crawl under the covers with her. She’d whisper soft things into his ear, promising that everything he dreamt of was simply just that, but he struggled to believe her as he held her tightly in his arms until the morning arrived. 

They took the two-hour train from the station to his home town in Wyoming on the day of the visit. Harry barely spoke a word as he held Y/N’s hand in his lap all the way there. They had decided on wearing somewhat fancy attire. Harry wore tailored trousers with a belt and a white shirt tucked into it, whilst Y/N settled on a new blouse she had yet to wear and a long skirt with kitten heels. They hadn’t spoken it aloud but part of them wanted to show without telling his parents just how well they were doing for themselves. 

“Baby,” Harry whispered, nudging Y/N awake after she dozed off on his shoulder, “We’re here now,” 

Y/N hummed, her eyes fluttering open to the window. Outside was the train station which was really just a raised platform by the train tracks with a small ticket booth nearby. The place was almost deserted, with only a few people stepping off as the train pulled in. Harry grabbed her purse and held Y/N’s hand as they exited the train and stepped onto the platform. It wasn’t long before the train was off again, leaving a bellow of smoke behind. 

Glancing around, Y/N noticed how grey Harry’s hometown was. The buildings seemed weathered, and besides the train station, there wasn't much else to see—just a row of buildings housing a grocery store, a clothing shop, and a bank. Everything became increasingly sparse and lifeless the further out of town you ventured, and Harry’s house just so happened to be situated on the outskirts. 

When they left the train station, Harry walked to a cab that was already parked outside with no other customers. He opened the door for Y/N to enter first, “Are you okay?” Y/N asked, sensing Harry’s discomfort.

“Y’ know there’s nothing more I wanna do than take y’ back to Offutt right?” His eyes were hard as he stared between the two front seats out of the windshield of the beaten-up vehicle. 

"I know," Y/N's voice was quiet, a hint of uncertainty creeping in as she wondered if she had pushed too far by insisting on accompanying him. However, before she could dwell on her thoughts further, he picked up her hand and pressed a kiss to it, reassuring her without words.

Y/N tried not to react too shocked when the vehicle stopped far outside of the town they had entered. In front of them was a house that looked as though it was made out of planks of wood hammered together. There was a front porch with a rocking chair that was rotting away and a clothesline with white sheets blowing in the breeze. 

“This is your home?” Y/N wondered, looping her arm with Harry’s when he came up beside her. 

“It’s never been m’home,” He replied, lowly. 

As they approached the front door, it creaked open before they could even knock. Standing behind it was a woman with the same green eyes Y/N had noticed in each of her children. Her hair was wispy and greying, with streaks of brunette that were a darker shade than Harry’s. She had heavy bags under her eyes and wrinkles all over her face. Her thin lips turned into a smile, her eyes watering as she opened her arms to the man beside Y/N, “My boy,” She croaked. 

Harry stiffened when he felt her arms wrap around him, “Mom,” He grumbled. 

The woman pulled away and then her eyes turned to Y/N, her smile drooping, “Who’s this?”

Harry opened his mouth to introduce herself but Y/N quickly stepped in, “I’m a friend of your son, we met on the Airbase.” She held her hand out.

Harry’s mother looked down at her hand and then back to Harry, “You’re bringing girls home now? Where are your brothers?” 

Harry’s jaw tightened, “They’re not here.”

“And Elise?” She went on. 

“She’s back home,” 

“This is her home,” His mother argued, “And I’m her mother,”

“We won’t be staying here for long,” Harry said, moving past his mother and stepping into the house. Y/N tried to offer his mother a smile but she just frowned. 

The inside of Harry’s childhood home was cold and empty, lacking any hint of life or sign of a whole family living here for well over ten years. Bits of furniture littered the house here and there, each individual piece looked battered and beaten. 

“Are you staying for dinner at least Harry? I’ve been cooking all afternoon,” His mother walked to the small kitchen and started stirring a pot that was already cooking on the stove.

Harry looked down at Y/N, “We can stay,” She told him even though she knew he didn’t like the idea, she didn’t want to let his mother’s cooking go to waste. 

“M taking Y/N to m’ room,” Harry grumbled, unwilling to wait for his mother to say anything. 

Y/N followed him to a small room near the living room. It was no bigger than an average old pantry, containing only a small, single bed and a little chair and table tucked into the corner. Above the bed hung a mobile adorned with wooden planes painted blue, dangling gently. Y/N reached out and held one of the jagged wooden planes in her palm.

The corners of her lips turned upwards as she examined it, wondering if Harry’s love for planes stemmed from a young age. Turning round to face him, she fell back onto his bed and sighed, “Come lay with me,” Her hand dangled from the bed, her fingers reaching out to brush his. 

Harry shook his head but fell onto the bed beside her, his feet dangling off the end. It was so small that Y/N had to practically lay on top of him, her chin resting on his chest as she looked up at him. She brushed some of his hair out of his face, “How are you feeling?” She checked in. 

“Strange,” He murmurs, “Seeing you in this house made me realise how foreign this place is to me now. You’re home and this is just… Something I don’t want in my life anymore.” 

Y/N’s gaze softens, “Your mom never told me her name, I don’t think she likes me very much.”

Harry’s hand slides up her back to play with the ends of her hair, “She doesn’t like anyone really but her name’s Debbie if y’ must know.”

“Debbie,” Y/N replies, her voice soft, “Hey, if things get uncomfortable we can go, just say the word.”

Harry felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude at her calming, understanding nature, “Thank you for being here.” 

“There’s nowhere else I’d rather be,” Y/N teased and Harry laughed, the sound echoing in the darkened room of his childhood. 

Despite Debbie’s cold attitude towards her, Y/N still tried to make an effort by helping set the table for dinner. In the corner of her eye, she caught Harry fussing over his mother when he saw her hands were all scathed from being outside every day as she poured stew into each bowl. The image made her eyes glisten with tears that threatened to fall until she blinked them away.

As they placed each bowl of stew on the table, a thud sounded from outside and then the squeak of the hinges on the front door as it swung open. Y/N’s heart stopped as Harry paced towards her, moving her behind him as an old man stumbled in. She grabbed Harry’s sleeve, peeking past him to see a man with hazel eyes and balding, grey hair. His face was wrinkled and scruffy, his nose red but his face gaunt. His footsteps were heavy against the wooden floorboards, with every inhale of his breath he seemed to suck out the warmth from the house. 

His eyes fell on Harry and then to Y/N, “Hello boy,” His voice sounded like gravel as he spoke. 

“Old man,” Harry’s voice was something Y/N had never heard from him before. It felt like he was trying to control all of his anger whilst also trying not to show his fear. She squeezed his arm a little, hoping it would give him some reassurance. 

“Nice to know you’ve remembered your family,” He sniffled, closing the door behind him. 

“Y’ make it hard to forget,” Harry replied. 

Debbie walked in between them like it was something she had done many times before whenever there was tension, “Jack, you’re  just in time for dinner.” She was much too cheery but it felt hollow and insincere, “Harry’s friend is joining us from that camp they’re staying at.” 

Jack glanced at Debbie with a flicker of annoyance before turning his attention back to Harry and Y/N. "Well, aren't we all just one big happy fuckin’ family," he muttered, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

Y/N felt the tension in the room thicken, a silent battle unfolding between the family members. She exchanged a knowing glance with Harry, silently urging him to stay composed.

Ignoring Jack's jab, Debbie gestured towards the dining table. "Come on, let's sit down and eat. I've made your favourite, Jack," she said. 

Sitting at the table, Jack's presence felt heavy in the room. Y/N looked at Harry, silently showing her support. She knew dinner would be tricky, but she was committed to being there for Harry. She held his hand under the table and squeezed. Harry rubbed his thumb over the pulse point on her wrist in order to relax himself. 

It was just dinner and they’d be going home straight afterwards. Home to his real family, where it was safe and he was most loved. 

Debbie came out of the kitchen with two cans of beer and placed them in front of Jack before sitting beside him. He cleared his throat as he opened both cans, “Where are y’ brothers?” 

“Not here,” Harry spoke, lowly.

“Don’t get funny with me boy, where are they?” 

“I already told you.” Y/N jumped when Jack’s hand smacked down on the table, Harry’s hand squeezing her in assurance like this was a normal reaction to have. 

“You’ve left y’ brothers at that camp and bought this random whore here?” He spat.

“Don’t call her that,” Harry said through gritted teeth. 

“I don’t even know her fuckin’ name and y’ bought her into my house?” 

Harry opened his mouth to reply but Y/N interrupted him, “My name is Y/N,” She said, her eyes hard, “And if that’s how you speak to someone you don’t know Mr Styles, I hate to see how you speak to those you do.” 

Y/N could feel all eyes on her at the dinner table but she ignored them, acting as though what she said didn’t matter, as she tucked into the stew that was in front of her. “Next time you come back here,” Jack gruffed, “Y’ bring your brother’s. Much prefer them here anyway.” 

This time it was Y/N’s turn to feel a bubble of anger rising within her, “Don’t want no more whores in my house, except y’ mother,” He chuckled, darkly, “She’s the only one allowed here.”

Harry shot up, his chair scraping against the floor, “How fuckin’ dare you,” He spat. 

“Sit down,” His Father ordered, refusing to look up at him. 

“Harry,” Debbie whispered, tugging on his hand to try and pull him down.

Reluctantly, Harry lowered himself to his seat. His jaw clenched as he stole a glance at Y/N, silently grateful for her unwavering support in the face of his family's hostility. He’d refuse to open his mouth for the rest of the dinner, in hopes it would speed things up and they could leave. He was filled with regret that he had allowed Y/N to come to this Hellscape, even more so for even considering it in the first place. 

It fell silent- nothing but the scraping of cutlery against plates- until Y/N decided to speak, her anger too much to withhold any longer, “I’d appreciate it if you’d stop calling me that Mr Styles,” Harry must have gotten whiplash from how quickly his head whipped around to look at Y/N as she spoke. 

“Say that again,” Jack replied, lowly.

“I said I would appreciate it if you’d stop calling me a whore, it’s rather distasteful.” Y/N dared to look up at him, meeting his lifeless eyes when she did. She felt Harry’s fingers squeeze hers but she refused to break eye contact with the only man who she had ever hated before even meeting him. 

“Distasteful? What are y’ a slut from Preston?” 

“No,” Y/N continued, “I’m not a whore or a slut from Preston and if you knew me or your own son, you’d know he wouldn’t dare bring someone with the likes of you home with him.”

Rage flashed in Jack’s eye, “Why you little-” 

Harry rose to his feet as Jack raised his hand in the air, bracing himself for the impending blow. But before Jack could strike, Y/N intervened. "The fact that you assume so little about me, Mr. Styles, is your first mistake," Y/N declared, her voice unwavering. "Truthfully, I know people. Put a hand on me, and I'll go straight to my father. He's a doctor, you see—a very important one who knows a lot of important people. One of his patients just so happens to be the Governor. Do you know the Governor, Mrs. Styles?" Y/N directed a smile at the timid lady sitting opposite her, who blinked in response and quickly nodded her head.

"As much as I hate throwing around big names, sometimes it pays to know people more powerful than those who assume they have it all," Y/N continued, her gaze steady on Jack. "Wouldn't you say, Mr. Styles?"

Y/N stood up from the table as Jack’s jaw clenched, biting his tongue to stop from speaking. She grabbed Harry’s hand and intertwined their fingers, “To answer your question, your sons are at Offutt Air Base not camp. It’s their home where their older brother raised them along with that little girl you both abandoned. You can assume I’m a whore or a slut or whatever you think I am however much you like Mr Styles but I will not let you sit there and strip all of the love your son has shown to your children when you weren’t willing to give them anything.” 

“Thank you for the dinner Mrs Styles but we’re leaving,” Y/N looked up at Harry who was already looking at her with nothing but pride all over his face, “I’m sorry Harry but I can’t stay here anymore.”

He nodded, following her out of the house but stopping when his father stood in front of him. Y/N gasped when Harry raised his arm and punched his father straight across the face. Jack groaned, cupping his nose as blood began to drip from it. Harry gripped his shirt in a fist, “Call my wife a whore again and I’ll fucking end you.” He spat, pushing him away. 

Y/N and Harry ignored his mother as she fretted about his now injured Father, walking out of the house. 

As soon as they stepped off the porch, Harry pulled Y/N to the side of the house where they were shielded from view and pressed her against the wall. His lips met hers eagerly, his hands cradling her face as her eyes fluttered shut. "You called me your wife," she breathed between kisses.

"Easy mistake," he replied quickly before his lips seeked hers once more. 

Once they pulled away, their chests heaving and Harry’s lips tinged pink from Y/N’s lipstick, the biggest grin stretched across his face, his eyes sparkling more than she had ever seen before, “I didn’t think I could love you any more than I did.”

Y/N’s eyes watered, a mixture of love and the come down from the adrenaline that had fueled her in the last few moments all began to hit her at once, “You are everything to me,” He murmured, “Everything.” 

"I love you too, Harry.” Y/N leapt into his arms, wrapping herself around him and refusing to let go. 

After leaving the house, it felt as if a heavy weight had been lifted, as though a burdensome weed had been plucked from their lives. The air seemed lighter, and even the moon appeared to shine a bit brighter overhead. As they walked, Y/N couldn't help but notice the peace reflected in Harry's eyes whenever he glanced up at the sky.

Though it wasn't the end, it felt like the first step towards releasing the things that brought no good into Harry's life. With Harry's arm lazily draped over her shoulder and hers around his waist, they stumbled down the street, unable to find a taxi or any passing vehicles to take them back to the train station. To outsiders, they might have seemed like a drunken couple, but in reality, they were simply two people deeply in love and, for that moment, they felt truly free—and that feeling was even better.

They boarded the last train back to Offutt that night, and Harry was adamant about keeping Y/N close. Despite the empty carriage, he insisted she sit with him, to the point where she was practically sitting on his lap.

As Y/N grew tired, Harry allowed her to rest her head in his lap while she stretched out across the seats. He gently played with her hair and traced the contours of her face. "Can I show you something when we get back?" he whispered. Although exhausted, and longing to simply fall asleep with him in her bed, she nodded in agreement.

Y/N giggled as Harry skipped ahead, the smile on his face had yet to be replaced as he led her to the warehouses at the airbase. “C’mon slowpoke,” Harry called much too loudly for this time of night. 

“Alright, alright, I’m coming,” Y/N shook her head, her cheeks aching from smiling so much.

Keys jangled in his back pocket as he pulled out a chain that had too many keys for Y/N to count dangling from it. He plucked one out and put it into the padlock that was keeping a lock on the large, metal doors to one of the hangars where the planes were kept. 

The doors clanked open as Harry pulled them apart enough for them to walk through. The light from the moon slipped through the gap, creating a dim light within the hangar. Harry switched on the lights in the panel on the side and the whole room lit up. Y/N followed Harry as he took her to the back of the warehouse where some of the planes which needed fixing up were kept. 

He stopped in front of a single-engine propellor aeroplane, painted blue with white stripes. It had a cockpit with a glass canopy and seated two people inside. Y/N frowned, “Is this what you wanted to show me?” Living on an airbase, she’d obviously seen plenty of planes that were different variations of the one in front of her so she was unsure what she was meant to be looking at that had got Harry so excited.  

Harry rolled his eyes playfully. He came up behind her and placed both his hands over her eyes to cover them. She stumbled as he nudged her forwards towards the side of the plane, “We’ve been working on this for a while and me and the boys have been struggling to give it a name. It was only until I met you that I realised what the perfect name for it was.” Harry removed his hands from her eyes, Y/N’s eyes squinting to adjust to the light until they focused on a word written in yellow on the side of the plane. 

Birdy. 

Y/N’s lips parted, walking up to touch the yellow font to see if it was real. She turned on her heel, eyes watering, “You named a plane after me?”

Harry bit back a grin, eyes twinkling, “Of course I did,” He whispered, “Need you with me all the time, now I can have you in the air too.” 

“Oh Harry,” She sobbed, wrapping her arms around his neck, “It’s wonderful,” 

“Yeah? Y’ like it darling?” He kissed the top of her head. 

“I love it,” She sighed, her eyes darting to the cockpit, “Can we sit in it?”

“Course,” Harry helped her up the little ladder and into the cockpit, before sitting in the spot next to her. “The electrics aren’t on so if y’ touch anything it won’t move.” Y/N’s hands pressed some of the buttons, still unable to believe she had a plane named after her. 

Harry smiled watching her and then leaned in to kiss her. Y/N ran her fingers through his hair, pulling him closer. Their lips met in a passionate kiss, and Harry deepened it, his tongue sliding into her mouth and his teeth nipping at her bottom lip. “Harry,” Y/N breathed, her eyes fluttering shut as he began to kiss down her neck. 

“This is for you baby. There ain’t nobody else for me,” He whispered, “and I don’t want anybody else.” 

His fingers brushed down the skin of her arms as her head rolled to the side. He kissed the base of the column of her neck, “You love me?” He asks, voice raspy. 

“I do,” Y/N hums, her hands all over his clothed torso gripping the fabric in tight fists. 

“How much,” Y/N gasped as his fingers played with the buttons of her blouse before he slowly undid the first one. He pressed his lips to her collarbones as he continued on the next button. 

Y/N’s hands fell to the buckle of his belt, tugging on the metal to pull him closer. With every inch of skin that was revealed, Harry would place a small kiss there like he was worshipping every inch. Y/N could feel his breath fan over the top of her breasts as he got to the middle button, “C’mon baby, how much?” He taunted. 

His hand slid up her back under her shirt to the clasp of her bra, “Tell me how much y’ love me and I’ll make y’ feel good hmm? Is that what y’ want birdy?” 

Y/N nodded, “So much Harry, so much.”

“What?” Harry grinned, “Y’ love me so much or y’ want me so much?” 

“Both,” Y/N gasped, “Please,” 

Harry’s lips mould with hers as he uses both hands to remove her blouse, the buttons flying everywhere. Y/N’s hands fumble to remove his belt as Harry tugs his own shirt off hurriedly. His hands are hot against her body as he unclips the clasp of her bra, “So beautiful,” He says, in awe. 

Y/N’s cheeks heat at the compliment. His hand splays across her bag, his pinky finger digging into the hem of her skirt as he continues to kiss her deeply. “Harry, I-” Her face feels hot as she stops herself, feeling too embarrassed to ask the question.

“What is it darling?” He cups her cheek in his hand, brushing his thumb over her cheekbone.

She looks up at him, her eyes round and full of lust, she cups the bulge of his dick through his trousers in her hand, “Please?” She whines.

“Y’ wanna suck on m’ cock sweet girl?” He smirks, seeing her get all flustered as she nods quickly. She’s already trying to unbuckle his belt before he has time to say anything else. Her eyes widened when his cock springs out of his boxers, she still couldn’t get over how big he was as she wrapped two hands around the thick girth and pumped up and down. 

Harry groaned, feeling her hands wrapped around him. She pulled away to sit up on her knees in the seat, tucking her hair behind her ears and bending forward. Harry’s head falls back against the headrest as she puts one hand at the base of his cock and kisses the tip. “So big,” She murmurs. 

“Gonna take it in y’ pretty mouth baby?” Harry taunts in a playful tone.

Y/N sucks on the tip, her eyes closing as she tastes him for the first time. Gradually she takes him deeper, inch by inch, her tongue sliding against the thick vein of his cock as she does. “Good girl,” Harry praises her, grabbing her hair and holding it in a fist. 

She stops when the tip hits the back of her throat, using her hand to jerk off what she couldn’t take in her mouth. Harry groans when Y/N gags and pulls away to catch her breath, “Careful baby,” He squeezes her cheeks together and forces her to look at him. Seeing her red, glossy lips and hazy eyes, drool falling from the corner of her mouth from how big he was, almost made him cum right there. He wiped his thumb over her chin and kissed her, “Doing so good my girl,” He murmured against her lips. 

As she goes back to mouthing at his cock, he can’t help but run a hand down her back and squeeze her ass beneath her skirt. Y/N makes a sound that sends vibrations down his cock and he knew she’d have to stop before he came down her throat, “Need to be inside y’ baby,' ' Harry spoke. 

Y/N’s pops him out of her mouth, “Are y’ gonna fuck me now?” Her big doe eyes look up at him. She almost looked innocent if it weren’t for his cock in her fist. 

“Yeah darling girl, M gonna love on y’ now.” He tucked a loose piece of hair behind her ear. 

Y/N's hands tangled in his curls as she adjusted herself to lay back on the seats. Harry’s lips parted as he looked down at her, her chest heaving and her nipples pebbling under his gaze. He ran a hand through his hair, the glass canopy around them fogging up with their breaths. 

Harry swallowed, moving on top of her and holding himself up with his hands pressed into the plush seat beneath. Y/N’s legs parted for him to rest between them, her hands going to his back, fingers digging into the hard muscle. 

“Are y’ okay?” Harry murmured, brushing some of the hair from her face.

Y/N smiled, “I’m fine,” 

Y/N could feel his hardened length on the inside of her thigh as he pulled her skirt up and revealed her white panties. Harry tutted, “Did sucking me off make y’ this wet baby?” He asked, his fingers moving her panties to the side to reveal her dripping cunt. 

Harry’s fingers dipped between her folds, brushing over her clit to collect some of her wetness before smearing it all over her pussy. His hand travelled down, smearing her juices over the tip of his cock before he lined himself up with her. 

“Y’know, I don’t think I ever apologised properly for what I did that day,” He pressed open mouthed kisses a long her jawline as the tip of his cock teased her entrance, “What do y’ say darling girl? Y’gonna let me be good and fuck my apology into you?”

Y/N’s hips bucked into him, “Mhmm,” 

Looping her arms around his neck, Y/N’s lips parted as Harry eased himself into her. She was suddenly reminded of just how big he was as he moved further and further inside of her until he bottomed out and she could feel every inch of him as she clamped around him,  “S’ good,” She hummed, her eyes fluttering open and closed. 

“Yeah?” Harry chuckled, kissing her quickly, “M nice and snug? Can y’ feel me in y’ baby?”

Y/N nodded, grabbing his hand and spreading out his fingers to press them against her tummy, “Feel you here,” She sighed.

Harry kissed her forehead, “Y’ like that?” 

“The best,” She smiled, lazily. 

“Made just f’ me that’s why,” Harry smirked.

Slowly, Harry began to slide in and out of her, taking his time knowing this moment was different to their first time. It was softer- gentle even. Y/N whines, feeling all of him against the walls of her pussy. Harry groans when he sees her stomach bulge when he moves back in her - a sight he could never overcome no matter how hard he tried. 

“Y’ fucking perfect Y/N. Feels so good.” Harry’s voice wavered as he felt himself get lost in the feeling of her.

As his hips moved faster, the closer he was to his release. He held her hips, glancing down to see his cock moving in and out of her. He feels her pussy clenching tightly around him, signifying she was close to her release too. 

“Am I making my girl feel good? Hmmm?” He presses his nose against her cheek as her head falls to the side. “M’ best girl, lovin’ me the way you do, how’d I get so lucky?”  Y/N couldn’t seem to find the words to reply, her body writhing beneath him. 

Harry pressed his hand down on her tummy, the added pressure making her groan, “Y’ gonna have my babies in there one day?” 

“Yes,” Y/N gasps as he fucks her harder. 

“Yeah? Gonna have all my kids and be a pretty little housewife?” Y/N whimpers, her hands scratching down his back. “I love y’ so much.” He whispers. 

“Love you,” Y/N slurred. 

Harry’s hand begins to rub at her clit, the added sense of pleasure filling her entire body with heat that only continued to build the more he pumped his heavy dick inside of her. Y/N feverishly craned her neck to kiss him, needing that extra physical touch. 

“Y’ gonna let me cum in you, darling girl?” Harry murmured, his voice shaking. 

“Please cum in me Harry,” Y/N’s eyes blurred as the bubble of heat burst in her belly. 

With a final thrust, Harry released a heavy groan as his cock filled her insides with his cum. Y/N’s back arched into him as her breath caught in her throat, her eyes rolling back when she came around him at the same time. 

Harry fell on top of Y/N, his sweaty forehead against her chest. She lazily moved her hand to his hair, running her fingers through his soft curls. Harry puckered his lips to press a kiss right where her heart was beating erratically. 

A silence fell around them as they tried to catch their breaths, “Have y’ forgiven me yet?” Harry murmured, his hands tracing patterns on her hip.

"I think I forgave you ages ago; I just wanted to punish you a little," Y/N admitted, a truth she had realised for a while now.

"I deserved it," Harry agreed.

"You did," Y/N acknowledged.

“But I’ll be better. For you, I’ll be anything but I’ll always try to be better,” He looked up.

Y/N cupped his face, “I don’t need you to be anything but you.” 

Harry kissed her palm, “Thank you… For it all.”

. . .

“Are you nervous?” Patsy asked as the girls sat on top of the hill on a picnic blanket. 

“A little,” Y/N lied, she had hardly been able to sit still since this morning. 

“Hey,” Molly smoked a cigarette, “These boys have done this plenty of times, I’m sure he’ll be fine.”

“I just hope it all goes well, they’ve been working months on this.” Y/N’s eyes darted around to see if she could spot him. 

Elise sat on the picnic blanket in a diaper, chewing on her fingers and making noises. Molly swooped her up in her arms as she stood, “What do you think Elise? Will your brothers actually do something smart?” Molly cooed. 

Patsy hit her shoulder lightly, “Don’t be so mean,” 

Y/N’s ears pricked as she heard the sound of an engine in the distance. She removed her sunglasses, trying to see where the source of the sound was coming from. “Look!” Patsy pointed towards the thing moving in the blue sky. 

Y/N’s caught sight of the blue plane flying in the air, if she squinted enough she could see the yellow spelling of her nickname on the side, “He’s there!” Y/N laughed in disbelief, “He’s there!”

The plane flew closer and Y/N could make out Harry sitting in the cockpit with George beside him. All the girls waved, Elise giggling as they jumped up and down. Y/N took her hat off and started waving it around to try and catch Harry’s attention.

His head turned and a huge grin spread across his face as he saw her wearing a red dress just like she had told him she would after he told her they’d be flight testing the plane again and he wanted her to be there to watch. 

“Will you be able to see me on the ground?” Y/N asked as she sat atop his worktop whilst he worked on the plane, her legs swinging backwards and forwards. 

“It depends on how close y’ are. I can’t really see that well when ‘m flying high up.” He tells her.

“Hmm,” Y/N thinks, “What if I wear something colourful? Will y’ be able to see me then?”

Harry bites back a smile, “Maybe,” He shrugs, coming up to stand between her legs. He leans forward to kiss her, “Why? Y’ planning on wearing something special for me Birdy?” 

Y/N bites her lip, her eyes sparkling, “Possibly.”

“C’mon,” Patsy snatched the blanket off the grass, “They’re going to land soon,”

The girls headed back to the runway where the plane would land. They could already see Sonny looking through his bicolours. Patsy waved, running towards him and falling into his arms. “Did y’ see?” He looked down at her, happiness all over his face. 

“It’s great baby,” Patsy kissed him. 

Y/N watched as the plane descended, growing bigger against the sky. With a rumble, the wheels made contact with the ground, the plane gradually slowing down as it ran down the runway. Everyone ran towards the plane as Harry lifted the glass chamber and hopped out with George coming round the other side.

Cheers sounded through the air from everybody. Harry’s eyes immediately met Y/N’s, his hands reaching out to catch her in his arms. She leapt into his embrace, moulding her lips against his, “That was incredible!” She squealed when they pulled away. 

“Yeah?” Harry was trying to remain calm but she could tell he was proud of what he and his brothers had achieved today, “Y’ proud of me?” 

“So unbelievably proud,” Y/N spoke, her eyes radiating the truth in her words. 

“Ha, Ha!” Elise squealed for her brother.

Harry’s smile widened into a grin as Molly placed Elise into his arms, “Did you see that Elise?” He kissed her chubby cheek, “Did y’ see your brother flying?” 

Elise just babbled in response. 

Y/N wrapped her arms around Harry and Elise, joining in the embrace. At that moment, surrounded by the people he cared about most, Harry knew that he was exactly where he was meant to be. With a contented smile, he squeezed Y/N's hand, silently thanking her for always believing in him.

“Hey have any of you seen-” George glanced around before his eyes landed on someone in the distance, “There she is,” He murmured to himself. 

Everyone watched as he ran towards a woman standing by the entrance of the warehouse, “Is that Nancy?” Molly held a hand over her eyes to block the sun so she could get a better look at them.

“Hey, I think it is,” Patsy agreed, her eyebrows furrowing. 

Y/N looked up at Harry who just shrugged. 

. . . 

The same evening, the Styles’ house was filled to the brim with people who had come over for their house party, celebrating the success of today. Elise was staying at a family’s house since the party would most definitely be going on well into the night. 

Y/N observed Harry from across the room as he engaged in conversation with his pilot friends as she sipped on a cocktail Patsy had given her. She had no idea what was in it but she drank it anyway, knowing it was probably better not to ask. Every so often, their eyes would meet, and a smile would pass between them as they communicated in a language only they knew. 

She noticed his lips were still tinged red from the lipstick she had kissed him with as they got ready for the house party. Y/N had offered to wipe it away for him but he liked the idea of people knowing he had been kissing you just by looking at the colour of his lips and yours.

Y/N’s heart felt so at peace as she glanced around the room and spotted each member of her found family. Her life had been so grey and mundane until she came to Offutt where everything changed and love had given her a whole new palette of colours. 

It had been hard and full of ups and downs but it was worth it, every second of time was worth it. 

She felt a presence come up beside her and turned expecting to see Molly or Patsy but was surprised to see Nancy standing there, leaning against the wall next to her. “It’s funny, I’ve been here longer than you and I don’t think I’ve seen anyone look at somebody the way Harry looks at you.” 

Y/N’s eyebrows furrowed, “Thank you? I’m not-”

“Listen,” Nancy turned to face her, “I’m sorry.”

Y/N’s eyes widened, “W-what?”

“Please don’t make me say it again,” Nancy turned away again, “I was a bitch and I liked Harry but not for the same reasons you do. I should have stood up for you and him the night of the bonfire when that asshole came and spoke to you but once again I was a bitch and quite honestly I probably still am a bitch but I’ve met someone who I really like and I’m trying to be better.” 

Y/N’s eyes softened, “Nancy-”

“I totally get it if you hate me and I don’t expect to be friends with you but George is Harry’s brother so we’re probably going to be seeing more of each other and-”

“Nancy,” Y/N interrupted her rambling, “It’s okay,” 

Nancy’s shoulders dropped, “Really? You don’t hate me?”

“I’ve never hated you, I just haven’t particularly liked you but I think that could change if we truly got to know each other.” Y/N shrugged. 

Nancy's eyes widened with surprise, hope flickering in them. "You mean that?" she asked, her voice tentative.

Y/N nodded, offering a small smile. “If you're George’s sister then one day we might be sister-in-laws and that would make things awfully strange if we didn’t get on, don’t you think?” 

“Yeah,” Nancy huffed, “Those boys sure do need a break from family drama. I mean there’s some serious daddy issues in that family.”

Y/N laughed, it was the first thing they both had ever agreed on, “You can say that again.”

Nancy's face lit up with relief and gratitude. "Thank you," she breathed, her voice trembling with emotion, “I-I’ve never been good at having friends and I truly am sorry for being so horrible. If it helps, I guess you managed to prove me wrong, I think I even proved myself wrong with the way things are now.” 

Y/N reached out and squeezed Nancy's hand reassuringly, “It’s all okay.” 

Nancy and Y/N spoke for a little longer. Giggling as they compared their boyfriend’s habits with one another until George came over and whisked Nancy away. 

A hand snaked around Y/N’s waist, her gaze falling on those ring-clad fingers. She turned to look up at those beautiful, green eyes, “Hi Harry,” 

“Hi Birdy,” He whispered, his eyes darting from her eyes to her lips and then back up again. “Y making friends?”

“I’m trying,” She grinned. 

“Good to know,” He smirked and then held out his hand, sliding his fingers to thread with hers, “Y wanna dance with me?” 

“M not very good you know,” She had told him plenty of times before.

“S just swaying,” He repeated the words he said to her the first time they danced together. 

Y/N laughed softly as Harry pulled her closer, their bodies swaying gently to the smooth jazz music filling the room. She rested her head against his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. With a contented sigh, Y/N relaxed into his embrace, letting the music wash over them. In that moment, as they moved together, there was nowhere else she'd rather be than in the arms of the pilot she pictured spending the rest of her life with. 

"What are you thinking in there?" Harry tapped the side of her head with the pad of his finger.

Y/N hummed, "I'm just happy,"

"Yeah? You are?"

"Yeah," Y/N sighed, resting her head against his heart, “I love you, Harry, so much,” Y/N murmured. 

“I love you too Birdy,” Harry leaned down to brush his lips with hers, “Bigger than the whole sky.”

taglist:

@ribbonknives @scorpiotulipicon @hermionelove @champagnepronlemsxxxx @n0vaj3an @roxyfan14-blog @avasbeanie @idontcareforausernamesblog @tpwksummer  @celesterry @love-letters-to-uranus @boredhsblog @tpwk-harry-styles @groupieloveclub @estaticheart @unknownkii @royaler1999 @lovebittenbyevans  @harryscherri @emsma11 @fairytale07 @psciostyles @hannah9921 @junhuisworld @fandomxo00

[nathaslosthershit]

Media Interrogation [Part 2] (LN4)

(Read part 1 here!)

Summary: He had prayed the media would leave his newfound ‘friend’ out of their questions, only focusing on the race. But Lando Norris would soon see he wasn't so lucky.  A/N: I don't know how Twitch works so excuse the poorly explained streaming things.

A little less than two weeks after Lando had met his new neighbor, they had spent any time they could together, and any time they couldn’t they were texting and calling. It was exciting, they weren’t dating per se, still trying to get to know each other before they jumped into anything, but this newfound friendship had been great for both of them. Slowly, Lando had been introducing her to some of his friends, and with all the new faces, she didn’t feel half as lonely as she used to. 

It was wonderful.

He had warned her about the stream, leaving the details of him turning bright red, giggling, and Max admitting that Lando had called her his “cute neighbor” out. But, of course, after she spent far to long going through the #landonorris tag on various social media sites, she had found a clip of the interaction. Seeing how giddy he was about it, even after meeting her for only a minute, made her giddy as well, happy to know that it seems her feelings weren’t one sided.

He had invited her to the race, being as it was at Silverstone, but the thought of going there and meeting new people and being seen by the media so soon after her and Lando just met made her nervous, so she politely declined. 

Although he was a bit upset, he understood her reasoning. 

Before the race, Lando was with Oscar giving various interviews, with mostly race related questions. ‘How was the car feeling?’, ‘you think you guys can give Max a run for his money this weekend?’, etc. It was easy and he wasn’t worried about intrusive questions.

Until they opened it up to the fans.

When they said they’d take fan questions, Lando began to sweat. Beside him, Oscar let out a laugh, knowing what the first question was bound to be.

“Lando, it seems you made friends with you “cute neighbor” while streaming, have you guys talked more?” one of the fans asked.

Shit.

He probably should have warned her this would happen but, maybe it was wishful thinking, he hadn’t expected to be asked about it. And maybe his cute neighbor wasn’t even watching. 

“Uhhh” he said as he let out an awkward laugh, “Yeah, we have talked a bit more. The cookies were really good so I’ve been trying to get the recipe.” Lies, he hadn’t asked for the recipe, he just wanted her to make the cookies for him again.

“Is she your girlfriend?” Another fan yelled out.

There was a beat of silence from Lando, causing fans to laugh at his awkwardness around the situation. Oscar, now feeling bad for his teammate, jumped in.

“He shared some of the cookies with me too. He wasn’t kidding when he said they were really good. Might have to ask her to make me a batch.” Oscar jokes. 

Seeing as he wasn’t going to answer the girlfriend question, which wasn’t even a proper question as the fan just yelled it out instead of waiting to be picked, the interviewer moved on. 

He really hoped she wasn’t watching this.

She was totally watching this and enjoying every second.

It felt nice to see Lando blushing so profusely at the mention of her, which made her feel better for also blushing profusely when he talked about her.

Since she saw the stream, she had noticed he definitely had a bit of a crush on her, but she didn’t know how deep it went. If it was a tiny crush that was bound to fade as they became closer, or if this closeness was going to lead to an even bigger crush. Only a few weeks into their friendship though, and she had already fallen fast and hard.

She couldn’t do anything. She'd never do anything, even though she so badly wanted to. All her new friends were Lando’s, if he wasn’t as serious as she hoped about his feelings, it would crush her. She wouldn’t be able to stay friends with him and in turn would lose all the new friends she had made. 

So she vowed to not make the first move.

Eventually, three months had gone by and the pair only became more inseparable. Instead of planning mini vacations and trips between races, Lando always tried to get home so he could see his favorite neighbor, who he now knew he had massive feelings for.

She had started work and it was going great! Her worries about being alone if she lost Lando went away as she made more non-Norris-acquired friends. 

The two had also graduated to an even deeper level of intimacy. They weren’t sleeping together, or straight up kissing. But holding hands, cuddling, kisses on the cheek or forehead, were all normal for the pair. Sure it seemed so childish to dance around their feelings at their grown age but it's all they could do for now.

Baking had become a new hobby as well. Before moving, she couldn’t really say she was much of a baker, only doing it when it came to birthdays or bake sales. But with Lando becoming increasingly more obsessed with her cookies, she had started to branch out with other flavors, even throwing in muffins or a pie. 

She had just finished a new recipe her mom sent her, which were divine, when she knocked on Lando’s door, flashbacks to the first time they met those few months ago going through her head.

Lando, also like those few months ago, had been streaming when he got a knock on his door. Smiling to himself as he already knew who it would be, which the fans most certainly caught, he quickly excused himself to go open it. When he saw her there, he immediately pulled her into a hug.

“I’ve missed you.” He mumbled into her neck.

“You saw me yesterday.” She laughed, happy to know he missed her as much as she did him.

“Can’t blame me for wanting to see my favorite girl all the time.” He replied.

“Favorite girl, huh? It's an honor. I don’t know what I did to deserve such a title.” She teased.

“Your cookies, of course!” He said as he pulled back, when she shot him a look, he continued, “and your wonderful personality, and how great of company you are.”

“That's more like it. Speaking of, I tried a new recipe and, not to toot my own horn, these are the best yet.” She said as she grabbed the container of cookies from her bag.

“Yes! Thank goodness I was beginning to experience withdrawal. I am streaming right now, they are always asking about you since the- anyway, could I do a taste test? You can join me, I think the chat would love it. I would love it. But you don’t have to if-” He began to ramble, clearly feeling awkward at almost admitting just how much she is brought up on his streams.

“No, that sounds great! I definitely join.” She immediately regretted the words the moment they left her mouth but the look on Lando’s face stopped her from taking it back. He has lit up in a way she hadn’t seen and all she wanted to do was forever make him light up that way.

He quickly pulled her to his streaming room, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek before pulling her onto the screen. “I’ve returned with cookies, oh and of course a special guest. Guys, please don’t be weird. Be normal or I'll end the stream.” He joked, but also prayed that his fans would for once listen and try not to embarrass him for their own entertainment. He knew they wouldn’t listen though.

Immediately after saying that, someone donated and got their message read out loud,

‘Are you the cute girl that gave him cookies?’

“Uh I don’t know. That depends. How many cute girls give you cookies, Lan?” She teased.

“Oh hundreds, I am constantly drowning in sweet baked goods. My trainer hates me now.” He teased back.

“Then I guess I should take these back, don’t want to make your trainer even more mad.”

“Over my dead body. Seriously, you’d have to pry these out of my cold dead hands. Anyway, this is a taste test of a new recipe, as was explained to me ‘it's the best yet’. You guys can’t eat them obviously so I’ll try to be descriptive.” 

After one bite, Lando started moaning in a way that was uncomfortable for everyone except him. Her face had never felt hotter at the sounds he was making and she was far too scared to check to see if her face was as red as it felt.

Do you hear him make those noises a lot?

“Alright! I told you if you guys made it weird I’d end it, so you lost your privileges. Goodbye everyone, think about what you did.” Lando was kidding, his fans knew it, but it was a pretty crazy question to ask. Not that the chat cared.

“Wow, I wasn’t expecting all that.” She said once he turned off the stream.

“I know, I’m sorry they get like that.” He replied, feeling bad that he hadn’t explained well enough what she should expect. 

“No, I thought they would be worse to be honest, I meant the moans you were making from my cookies.” “Oh come on they weren’t that crazy, and the cookie was amazing, I had to.”

“Lando, those noises were nothing short of erotic, I was worried how far you were going to go if you had another bite.” She teased.

They both laughed and after a few seconds, a beat of silence fell over them. As they looked into each other’s eyes, the energy in the room shifted. Finally, Lando spoke up.

“Can I kiss you?” He asked.

“Please,” She replied.

Explosions, fireworks, sparks, whatever you want to call it, they felt it. It was so cheesy but it was so electric, they couldn’t help but feel like they did in the movies.

After a much needed breather, before going in for more, Lando asked, “Let me take you out, properly, please? Like an actual date.”

“Only if it's not a seafood place, I’m allergic to fish.” 

“Good God, I’m gonna fall in love with you.”

[tarotwithlucien]

What compliments do people say behind your back? | PICK A PILE

₊˚๑ How to choose: Close your eyes, take a deep breath and choose the image that caught your attention. ₊˚๑ Disclaimer: All readings are done for entertainment only, don't use my readings as a replacement for legitimate advice. This is a general reading, so take what resonates and leave what doesn't.

₊‧ʚ・︵︵ ₊˚๑ masterist | tip jar ₊ ︵︵・₊﹆ɞ‧₊

🥐 ⊹ ꒱ PILE ONE ᨦ ♡

⊹ ︶⏝⭒ ⊹ ⭒⏝︶ ⊹

Hey, pile one! You’ve got this unforgettable presence that makes people remember you, even if they usually struggle with faces or names – but with you, it’s different. When people meet you, they can’t seem to forget your face or who you are. If they were in a crowded room full of people, they wouldn’t waste time talking to anyone else – they’d be drawn to you. Even if they don’t know much about you, there’s this mystery around you that keeps them intrigued and wanting to know more. You’re genuinely one-of-a-kind, almost like a muse in people’s eyes, and some might even say you’re the type of person an artist would write songs about.

People also talk about your hair, how soft it looks and how it flows perfectly in the wind. On top of that, they think you’re super photogenic – you always seem to come out looking great in photos. A lot of people assume you’ve got a good, stable life going on – even if you don’t always feel that way, from the outside, it seems like you’re chasing your dreams and achieving your goals. But there’s another side to this – if you’ve ever let an opportunity slip through your fingers, people might say, "you had your chance, and it’s on you for not taking it." They see you as someone who’s tough, knows their worth, and usually gets what they want.

People think you follow your heart, maybe even a bit too much sometimes, but they know you’re reliable and that they can count on you. Lately, though, some have noticed you might be going through something, even if you’re not saying it out loud. They see you as ambitious, always striving for more – sometimes even to the point of overindulging, like spending too much on clothes or accessories. You’re someone who doesn’t like hearing “no” and keeps pushing until you get that “yes.” That’s a strength, no doubt, because you’re persistent and don’t give up easily. But at the same time, some people might see it as a downside, viewing you as a bit selfish or spoiled because of how hard you push for what you want.

🥐 ⊹ ꒱ PILE TWO ᨦ ♡

⊹ ︶⏝⭒ ⊹ ⭒⏝︶ ⊹

Hello, pile two! So, one of the first things people say about you behind your back is how sweet-hearted you are, and they absolutely love that about you. They also talk about how much stronger you are than you think, even though you might feel totally wrecked inside sometimes, lol. People see so much potential in you, like you’re capable of achieving everything you want and living the life you dream of. But here’s the catch — sometimes you might end up just talking about it or daydreaming without actually taking action, and yeah, that’s not helping you much.

Another thing people admire is how well you hide your emotions, especially when you’re going through tough times. It’s like no one around you can really tell when you’re down, which can actually be a huge advantage if you’re surrounded by toxic people. Not giving them the chance to use your insecurities against you? That’s a power move. People also respect how you don’t just let anyone into your life to mess things up. You set boundaries, and they see that. Some might take it the wrong way though — like, they could think you’re arrogant or selfish just because you don’t bend to their will or things didn’t go their way. But honestly, don’t even worry about them, lol.

Another thing people admire about you is your independence. You handle your own problems, and it’s not like you’re out there looking for comfort or validation from others. You’ve got this "I can handle it myself" energy, and that’s something people definitely notice. On top of all that, they also see how you know how to chill and have fun after a long day, whether it’s at work, school, or whatever. You’ve got that perfect balance of working hard and knowing when to relax.

🥐 ⊹ ꒱ PILE THREE ᨦ ♡

⊹ ︶⏝⭒ ⊹ ⭒⏝︶ ⊹

Hello, pile three! One of the first things they compliment is that you’re an amazing friend to those around you. You have this way of calming people down when they’re nervous, making them feel better, helping them take a deep breath, and just relax. Even though you're great at being there for others and supporting them when they need it, people have noticed that you’re not the type to ask for comfort when you’re feeling low. When you're down, people really miss your positive, high-energy vibe — some of you in this pile are even a little sassy and people love that about you, lol.

They also admire your "I don’t need anyone" vibe, but little do they know, you act that way because you’re afraid of being vulnerable and getting hurt in relationships. Still, when you do get close to someone — whether it’s a friendship or something more — you’re all in. You want them to be there for you just like you’re there for them, but you don’t let on about your fear of being abandoned. You’ve got this energy of "you’re either with me or you’re not."

Another thing people say is that you’ve got the potential to be brilliant. You don’t give up easily, no matter how tough things get, and that inspires the people around you to do the same. People also really respect how much you care about justice and equality – it seriously bothers you to see unfairness in the world, like people going hungry on the streets or religious hypocrisy. Some of you reading this are atheists, and it drives you nuts when people use religion to justify their shady actions. You’ve got a way of surprising people, whether it’s through your actions, your thoughts, or just how you handle things – people honestly never know what to expect from you, but in a good way.

© tarotwithlucien - don't copy, redistribute or edit my content | moodboard

[nanaminsmoon]

e.jaegar x shynailtech!reader. mdni. 18+

wc: 1761.

a/n: the girlies wanted another eren fic and i need to clear my drafts so here we are😁

eren had ended up on your doorstep, hands in his pockets and checking his shoes, via a trusty recommendation courtesy of mikasa. being arguably your best and most loyal client, mikasa had notified you about his visit a week before your appointment. but, though you had been expecting the brunette, you hadn’t expected him to be as good-looking as he was; brown locks in a loose bun, grey tech under his black moncler coat and white af1s on his feet. and his good looks weren’t the only thing she had failed to mention, because eren seemingly had a staring problem.

those jades hadn’t left you since eren had crossed the threshold separating your studio and the outside world. it was hard not to notice, because he was practically burning two holes into the top of your head as you worked. yet you wouldn’t mention it, because you assumed it was due to novelty. because, as put-together as he was—well-groomed, and smelling of a knee-weakening herby mix of woody cologne and faint weed—it was very much possible that it was his first time getting his nails done. so it was only natural for him to thoroughly assess his surroundings, as well as the people in it. it just so happened that, unluckily for you, you were the only person in those surroundings.

while most clients would pull their phones out, some even going as far as to put their airpods in while making small conversation, eren found all his entertainment in you; your steady breathing as you poured all your attention into your craft, the way you’d pull back from his fingertips and ask him for his approval, and the way his calloused hands felt in your delicate ones. their grip was firm, yet very gentle, and he felt sick for even imagining how they’d feel wrapped around his dick. just two seconds of quiet was enough time for his brain to generate different versions of one particular image: those nails of yours, that he figured you had done yourself, decorating his hard length—your thumb occasionally swiping over his leaking tip. though just a daydream, the feeling was so visceral that a small shudder travelled down his spine, forcing a deep breath to leave eren’s mouth without his permission. and that would be the thing to make him shake himself out of his reveries before you noticed.

“you’re good at this. i see why mikasa is here all the time”, he'd comment, and your small laugh would be covered by the back of your hand as you muttered out a timid ‘thanks’. and though he tried to fight it, those perverse thoughts he had quelled rose back again because of that simple reaction.

‘curiosity’ was the name of the debauched hand twisting every single one of eren’s thoughts, and its fuel was the question of how far your shy demeanour extended. during the few moments his eyes weren’t locked on you, they would be fixed on a random spot in the room as he entertained the idea of burying your hard work deep inside of you—slender digits moving in and out of you with haste, as his other hand rested on the back of your neck to pull your lips onto his. eren pondered whether or not your hand would still cover your mouth even as he curled his fingers in a way that made your back arch off your work chair. would that coy act still try to override the fact that your walls told him what your abashed mouth refused to say? and, as his arousal made him shift in his chair, eren’s mind couldn’t help but ask him if you'd grab onto his arm as your lips told him it was too much, but your eyes pleaded for him to keep going. luckily for his inquisitive mind, eren would soon find the answers to all his questions.

“but you can take it, can't you ma?”, eren’s breath slid past the shell of your ear as he spoke into it. his words reeked of artificial sympathy, because there was not an ounce of pity in his digits as they pumped in and out of you—a rogue thumb even moving to rub at your clit.

most people would be bothered by someone staring them, many would even ask them what their problem was, but you had remained silent—knees pushed together as you tried to soothe the effects of eren’s glare, underneath the table. even when he’d move a little closer, purposely making sure you were aware that it was you he was looking at and not whatever was being illuminated by the bright led lights on your table, all you’d do was push your head further down to narrow your vision on the task at hand—making eren scoff in amusement.

“y'know...”, he'd finally speak up, to no proper response, “it's okay to come up for air every once in a while”, eren would remark and, from where he was looking, he’d see your eyebrows crease in confusion.

“you ain't gotta be scareda me. eye contact is good. customer service and whatnot”, he’d shrug, and you’d nod back. and that’s all you could do. because everything he was saying was right; his glower had burned through you, leaving behind a cowardly pile of ashes.

“yeah, but i gotta do my job. so i kinda have to look at ‘em”, you’d explain.

“the nails are fine.”, he'd quip, pulling his hand from your grasp to leave you just staring at the table, “and so are you. so lemme see your face”, he'd say, and you'd freeze.

“need me to ask you again, or do i gotta move you myself?”, he'd ask with a sly smirk, that you’d only see when you faced him. once he could meet your shaking eyes, he'd sigh in contentment,

“there she is”, he'd joke.

and now she was about to cum on his fingers so he'd quickly pull them out of you, earning him a look of aroused outrage from yourself.

“think imma do allat and not see how this pussy feel?”, a light chuckle carried eren’s question out of his mouth, and his hands would be preoccupied with pulling his joggers and boxers down. eren wanted all that shyness gone, so he'd get you to take the initiative and move yourself back on him—fucking yourself on his dick, with your hard work sandwiched between your tongue and the roof of your mouth as you sucked all the arousal off his middle fingers. it only took a few minutes, but the shy woman he had met had all but disappeared as soon as eren's dick had entered her, and that amused him. maybe you had been shy because you feared looking at him would lead you to this very position, and you weren't ready to face that reality. but eren had enough courage for the both of you; he had been brave on your behalf, so you could get to the point where his dick was so deep inside you, he was making your legs shake,

“eren, i’m cumming”, you spoke out quietly, and he grabbed your jaw and turned you to face him.

“i can’t hear you. say it again”, he ordered through clenched teeth, and you whined, “just speak up for me, ma”, he kissed your cheek.

“i’m cumming, eren”, you said louder, and he’d smile to himself before holding onto you and fucking into you himself. you came almost instantaneously, your voice the loudest he’d heard you. there weren’t many words you could string together because your brain was too busy trying to will your limbs to keep you upright. but it would be enough encouragement for eren, and it’d move his hips faster as he continued fucking into you.

the feeling of you tightening around him had switched your roles; it had rendered eren speechless, while you were straining your vocal cords to tell him how good he felt—all the while, neglecting the fact that you were about to snap a fingernail with how hard you were gripping onto your work surface. if his curling toes didn’t have him busy fighting a foot cramp, eren might’ve had time to be surprised by the fact that you cut him off as he was about to speak.

“nut in it, eren”, you’d plead with him, and your words must’ve skipped over his ears and gone straight to his dick, because those five syllables would be enough for him to still and fill you with his seed—his lips connected to your neck to barely stifle his moans. there’d be a slight pause as you both stood, catching your breath and recovering from a high that wasn’t ready to come down yet. when you’d reluctantly try to pull away from him, you’d be thankful his fingernails were trimmed because they’d be digging into your hips and, as expected, his eyes were stuck to your face. even with his curiosity quenched, eren wouldn’t stop studying you; the rise and fall of your chest as your breathing regulated again, the stray hairs adhered to your forehead by sweat, and the small pout formed by you holding back your frustrations,

“the fuck’s your problem?”, you’d finally ask, and eren would be taken aback by your curt words.

“what, i can’t look at you?”, he’d ask through a low chuckle, kissing your cheeks and rubbing circles on your exposed hips.

“yeah, but chill—ffuck”, each time you moved off him, eren’s hands would halt you and the friction was tightening the knot in your stomach that he had loosened not too long ago, “i’m not going nowhere, you ain’t gotta stare like that”, your laboured words fought against the moans threatening to escape your mouth.

“you’re just pretty, that’s all”, eren’s hand would once again be on your jaw, stilling your movements so his lips could resume their kissing on your neck and the space behind your ears, while his hips restarted their movements, “but you right; i ain’t done with you, so you not going nowhere til i am.”

©2023 nanaminsmooninc. All rights reserved. You may not copy, reproduce, or modify works without permission.

[thunderbump]

Lesson in Labor

Disclaimer: Hi everyone i know i posted one story and vanished but life got busy. I kinda through this one together but if people like it might make a part two. Enjoy :)

Mrs. Thompson stood at the front of her classroom, hands resting lightly on her enormous belly, a practiced habit she’d developed over the last few months. At eight and a half months pregnant, she looked ready to pop any day now. In truth, she’d started showing early, much earlier than anyone expected. By the end of her first trimester, her small frame had begun to round out, her baby bump impossible to hide from the students who whispered excitedly among themselves.

"Mrs. T is gonna have her baby any day now!" one of them had said during lunch last week. The class laughed, but Mrs. Thompson smiled politely, brushing off the comment. Little did they know how right they were.

As she continued her lesson, explaining the intricacies of Shakespeare's *Macbeth*, a sudden, sharp pain shot through her abdomen. She flinched but quickly disguised it as a cough. Her eyes darted toward the clock. It was only 10:15 AM. An hour had already passed, the day would be over in no time. At least, that’s what she kept telling herself.

Taking a deep breath, Mrs. Thompson continued speaking, but her words came out more strained now. She shifted from one foot to the other, trying to ease the building pressure that was quickly becoming difficult to ignore. Another contraction rippled through her, stronger this time, and her free hand gripped the desk behind her.

"Are you okay, Mrs. T?" a student in the front row asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh, I’m fine, Jamie. Just a little...tired," she said, trying to smile through the discomfort. She wasn't about to admit that she was, in fact, having contractions. There was no way she was going to give birth in the middle of her classroom. Not in front of her students.

But her belly—round and large, the size of a beach ball under her flowing dress—was tightening again. She felt the unmistakable, rhythmic tightening, and she knew deep down that this wasn’t just some random Braxton Hicks. This was the real thing. Her baby was coming.

She glanced at the classroom door. She could make an excuse and leave. But then what? Her classroom was on the second floor, and the teachers’ lounge, where her phone sat, was all the way at the other end of the building. The idea of walking that far in her condition made her wince. Besides, if she suddenly bolted for the door, she’d draw attention. The last thing she wanted was to cause a scene.

“Now, can anyone explain Lady Macbeth’s role in the murder of Duncan?” she asked, her voice tight as another contraction hit. She bent slightly at the waist, hoping the class wouldn’t notice. Her enormous belly was pulling her forward, making her feel heavy, slow, and increasingly uncomfortable.

A few students raised their hands, but Mrs. Thompson’s focus was rapidly dwindling. Sweat began to bead on her forehead, and she wiped it away quickly, trying to maintain her composure. The pressure in her belly grew more intense, and she couldn’t help but place both hands on her stomach, feeling the strong kick of her baby—who was apparently eager to make an entrance.

"Uh, okay, Melissa, go ahead," she said, pointing to one of the students, her voice wavering.

As Melissa rambled on about the play, Mrs. Thompson barely heard a word. She was too busy counting in her head, timing the contractions. Five minutes apart. Maybe a little less. She swallowed hard, determined to make it through the next hour until lunch.

The next contraction came hard, and Mrs. Thompson had to turn her back to the class, pretending to adjust something on the board. Her breath caught in her throat, and she gripped the edge of the chalk tray for support. She was huge now, her belly straining against her dress, every movement reminding her of how close she was. Her students couldn’t know. They’d freak out, and she refused to be remembered as the teacher who went into labor during *Macbeth*.

But her body had other plans. She felt a deep pressure low in her abdomen, a sign she couldn’t ignore any longer. Time was running out.

She straightened up and turned back to the class, plastering on a smile she hoped looked convincing. “Class,” she said, her voice slightly higher than usual, “I think I need to step out for a moment. You can work on your study guides for the next ten minutes.”

She barely waited for them to respond before making her way, carefully and slowly, to the door. The moment she stepped into the hallway, her face crumpled with relief. She leaned against the wall, breathing deeply. Her water hadn’t broken yet, but she knew it wouldn’t be long. The contractions were relentless now, and her belly, huge and tight, seemed to be doing all the work of pushing her forward, one excruciating step at a time.

Each step was agony, and by the time she reached the teachers’ lounge, she was panting, her face pale and clammy. She managed to grab her phone, dialing her husband’s number with trembling hands.

“David, it’s happening,” she gasped, sinking into a chair as another contraction hit, “I tried to hide it, but…I think the baby’s coming now.”

There was a long pause on the other end of the line before her husband replied, “I’m on my way. Hang in there.”

Mrs. Thompson hung up and sat back, rubbing her enormous belly. She glanced out the window, knowing she was about to meet the little one she had been carrying for so long. But first, she had to make it through labor—hopefully, without causing too much chaos in the school.

[s1utlvr]

I know places ↟

Clarisse La rue X reader

a/n: I DONT KNOW WHAT IM DOING?? But I’m yeah here’s this heavily Taylor swift inspired some heated making out but nothing more cliffhanger enjoy or don’t idk man

ᨒ↟ ⋆｡° ᨒ↟ ⋆｡° ᨒ↟ ⋆｡° ᨒ↟ ⋆｡° ᨒ↟ ⋆｡° ᨒ↟ ⋆｡° ᨒ

Dating Clarisse La rue was a bad idea.

It’s all anyone could tell you the moment you fell for her, even Clarisse herself tried to talk you out dating her.

But there was nothing she could do or say that could make you not want her.

The way her lips felt against yours, the way her hands brushed against your body, the way she made you felt when it was just you and her, no amount of rumors could change the way you felt about her.

“Loose lips sink ships all the damn time, but not this time.”

Tonight was a night like any other, you were at the bonfire grabbing a drink your girlfriends hands on your waistline and like always the vultures that were your fellow campers had some things to say.

They’d never say anything not to your faces atleast everyone was too scared of Clarisse, but the way they stared made it seem like you two were monsters begging to be hunted. You tried not to care but that part just always seemed to infuriate you.

“Wandering eyes?” Your girlfriend whispered into your ear noticing your expression.

You nodded rolling your eyes and then moving your eyes back onto your girlfriend.

“Hey you wanna go somewhere?” You asked sipping at your drink trying to get rid of the feeling that you were prey to your peers.

“Is it that bad?” She asked her hand moving and making its way to cup your cheek.

“No it’s just-gods it pisses me off like it’s been months and this shit is still happening” you said a bit of frustration in your voice. Clarisse hated seeing you like this but she had to admit, you’re hot when you’re angry.

“Where’d you have in mind?”

“I know places”

“After you then” Clarrise smirked chucking your cup into the trash before following closely behind you into the forest.

You had discovered this spot your first day at camp while trying to find your way around for the first time. What you thought was a shortcut turned out to be a path straight to a creek deep into the forest, you were lost for two hours until your protector found you. The creek was calming, secluded, even when your were lost. And since that day had been your spot. Once you and clarisse got together you were more than glad to share it with her. Sure you had plenty of spots but this was your favorite, you knew no one could ever get to you here.

You sat down against a rock by the water clarisse following next to you as you watched the moonlights reflection on the water.

“I thought people would’ve moved on by now” you said as you shifted to look at your girlfriend resting your head on her shoulder.

“I wouldn’t stop talking about you either” She teased.

“You know what I mean” you scoffed. “Why do people have to care so much about who I date?”

“Well it’s hard not to be obsessed with you” Clarisse said pulling you closer so you were on top of her.

“You’re impossible” you chuckled as you rolled your eyes at her, her hands resting comfortably on your waist.

“Ouch?” She said as she dramatically clutched her heart. “You sound just like them”

“Well most of the rumors are true aren’t they?” You laughed as she pulled you in the feeling of your lips pressed together sending electricity through your body before she pulled away, her breath heavy as she spoke.

“Please you know wouldn’t trade this for the world, it’s always gonna be me.”

It was true. You’d hide from the world for the rest of your life if you could feel like this forever.

Her hand moved up to your waist as she pulled you back in continuing to kiss you. You could tell she was desperate, needy, she wanted to shut everyone out just as much as you did.

It was cause of this that it came as a surprise when she pulled away abruptly.

“Did you hear that?” She whispered panically

“Hear what-?”

The sound of leaves crunching filled the forest.

Shit.shit shit shit. was all could think as you tried to get off of her. Was it an animal? Was it a monster? Was it a person? How long had it been there?

The sound of leaves got closer.

“Come on” she whispered looking behind the rock you two were sitting against.

“Where?” You asked frantically.

“Just grab my hand and don’t ever drop it.”

[wintersera]

hii what do u think of giselle and yunjin fucking you???🥲🥲🥲 i feel like they'd just be big bullies to you and degrade you all the time

cw: dubcon, degredation, drugging, somnophilia, blackmail, i made them assholes in this im sorry 🫠🫠

okay my bad i haven’t answered this (holy shit i’m so sorry) but anyways. when it comes to me theres no normal vanilla thoughts about this, because let me tell you… i want these two women in a way that will cause the second coming of jesus christ—

also i felt like making this a drabble even though i said i wouldn’t do requests or asks my bad guys… brain rot!

bully!aeri and bully!yunjin being very well known for bullying people left right and centre. them having a few lackeys that would run their errands. unfortunately you were one of their little targets to fuck around with quite literally you weren’t a lackey or anything, they just liked to poke fun at you time to time. do that thing that bullies often do and just shove you into a locker, pour water or some drink over your head during lunch breaks, call you a few names here and there, take really humiliating pictures of you and say that they’re not gonna post it anywhere, maybe they have posted it. but anyways, you know, the usual shit.

they thought it would be so funny to invite you over for funsies and not explain why they want you over. so really, who were you to deny their request? quite obviously they could just blackmail you to come running over.

aeri is kind of an enabler to yunjins behaviour- like she knows what she’s doing is horrible and thats why she doesn’t do it normally, but this time is kinda different. aeri is all like “it’ll be fun c’monnnn. you find y/n kinda cute anyways. i know you think she looks so cute when she’s crying… plus, i think she’s cute too. just wanna fuck around with her you know”

and so the day comes. you’re standing in the middle of their room,,, shit you’re so awkard, but that’s to be expected. in what situation would your bullies invite you to one of their houses?

they’d tell you to relax “don’t worry, we just wanted to hang out” for all you know they’re making snacks in the kitchen giggling to eachother while you awkwardly make yourself comfy, sinking yourself on the couch. eventually they brought over the drinks they made specifically for you and handing it over, watching as you sip the drink hesitantly.

“hmm this is kinda good… anyways what am i doing he-“

BITCH?? it only takes you few seconds and you’ve blacked the fuck out. you’re extremely vulnerable infront of both of your bullies, you’re kinda fucked.

oh noooo what ever shall they do to you

you’d wake up to yunjin between your legs with a playful smirk on her face, lapping at your clit, making sure that you definitely feel her tongue flat against it.

oh and aeri? she’s standing behind yunjin taking a video, snickering as you wake up from a good 30 min knock out nap “what the f-fuck?” were the only words that came out of your mouth before yunjin shoved two of her fingers knuckles deep into your cunt.

in panic, you looked up to aeri who was fixated on keeping you in frame while you were being fucked rough. her eyes were glued onto the screen, keeping in a laugh that was in her throat. she noticed you staring at the camera. she laughed “god you look so pathetic. did you really think that we would want to hang out normally? especially with you? hmmm… what would your mom think if she found out that her precious daughter was a slut”

yunjin just chuckled. she kept sucking on your clit while she was so so deep inside of you. i mean hell you were out of it??? your head banging from the spiked drink, and your bully was going down on you? shit was so confusing, but it was all welcomed. aeri and yunjin obviously didnt know that you were getting off to this, so they just carried on with the thought of messing you up beyond your capabilities.

yeah, yunjin wasn’t as mean as aeri was, but the way you writhed your hips on her face whenever she circled her tongue around your clit, made her act harsher. yunjin’s nails dug into your thighs making you hiss at the feeling. you felt more needier, more desperate for her tongue.

at this point they both got that you were whoring yourself out for them “aeri, do you think this little slut deserves to cum?” which gets you panicking a bit

“i don’t think so” aeri responds back with a playful tone “i think i should have a go with our toy before she gets to cum, don’t you think? yeah no they definitely found out….

before you could figure out what they were gonna do, aeri had already switched places with yunjin, disregarding her phone. at a agonisingly slow pace, aeri toyed with your clit “you really do enjoy this, fucking whore- oh i can’t wait to use this against you” yunjin picking up her own phone and snapping a few pics before ripping open your shirt “everyone thinks you’re the sweetest little thing, so cute, so vulnerable, so easy to fool. it’s so funny, no one else but us knows that you’re just a pathetic slut that was waiting for this to happen to you” a few more pics of you shirtless with aeri in between your thighs were taken.

aeri signalled for yunjin to come closer, telling her that it was completely fine to mark you up and leave bruises for all she cares!! no one would really give a fuck anyway- now if it wasn’t aeri’s or yunjin’s marks they’d probably gaf because well… they’d most likely corner you and ask if you were whoring around 😭

besides the point, yunjins trailed across your neck and collarbone, leaving as many hickeys as she can while aeri began fucking you with her fingers relentlessly.

time passes and you’re calling out their names simultaneously, “yun— fu…fuck aeri, can’t- can’t take it anymore” yeah they really dont care, not slowing down at all LIKE AT ALL— aeri fucking you so deep, so rough and so fast that it makes you feel so overstimulated, and with yunjin fondling your breasts and biting at your neck, it makes sense that it made you fall unconscious for a split second. gripping onto the sheets tightly once you come back to reality, screaming their names as they witness you cum all over aeris fingers.

oh and also, for extra measures, they take another pic of you. this time your legs spread wide for the camera— yeah no they’re asshole my bad

so yeah— moral of the story… um i think that bully!aeri and bully!yunjin nghfnfhnfnnhfnfnffnfbfb FUCJ I NEED THEM IN AN UNHOLY WAY 😤😤😤

[lemoncrushh]

Ruin the Friendship

Summary: It's Ella's birthday, and her best friend Harry plans to tell her how he feels about her.

Warnings: None, just sweet, sugary fluff

Word Count: 5.2k+

A/N: Uni!Harry x OC, AU, friends to lovers one shot written in third person, originally from 2019. I think my first plan back then was to include some smut, but as I was writing, I decided it was not needed. I think you'll see why and agree. Also, Liam and Niall are in this one :).

Ella was his best friend. Some people would say Niall was Harry’s best mate, and while he considered that to be true for the most part, if anyone was to ask, he’d proudly declare that Ella took the title. They’d only known each other since the first year of uni, but in that time they’d grown very close, and if Harry was honest, there were things they shared that he didn’t share with the lads.

Not things like details about girls he fancied or the head he’d gotten that one time from Marla Lemons. He could only talk shit like that with his mates, and he reckoned Ella wouldn’t wanna hear about it anyway. But they could have deep conversations well into the night about nothing and anything, musing about life and death and what it all really meant. He’d known Niall for nearly a decade, and while he could chat him up about complete random shit, he wasn’t the type to talk about things like that.

Sometimes it was nice to have a friend to just chat about nothing with.

One thing he’d never been able to tell Ella, however, was that he secretly wanted to be more than friends. He’d never made a move, and other than holding her hand when she was scared at the haunted house or wiping her tears when she’d cried about an exam she’d failed, he’d barely touched her. Something had happened that first year at university that had put them in the friend zone, and he eventually accepted that was just how it was meant to be. At least for a while. But this last year had been different. Something had shifted, and he couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

Harry stood in the kitchen, his hand around a red cup filled with some sort of concoction that smelled entirely too sweet. He didn’t really want to get shit-faced tonight, that wasn’t his plan. Not that he really had a plan. But it was Ella’s birthday, and if he had anything to say about it, it would be her best one yet. The last three had been fun as far as he could recall, except for the time some girl Niall had been dating...Lena? Lorna?...had gotten so wasted she threw up on the rug. Ella, being the kind soul she was, insisted on cleaning up, holding her nose with a clothespin until Harry finally pulled her away, yelling at Niall that he should clean up his own girlfriend’s puke. Later that night, sat with Ella up on the roof, Harry had thought about confessing his feelings to her. But it just hadn’t felt like the right time, and given that he was still pretty drunk himself, he was afraid Ella would simply blame it on that and not take him seriously.

So the friendship continued.

“Hey mate, you gonna drink that or are you trying to read your future in it?”

Lifting his head, Harry saw his friend Liam enter the kitchen, walking up to the counter beside him and pouring himself a cup of the same pink liquid.

“What’s in this?” Harry asked.

“Hell if I know,” Liam shrugged before taking a large gulp. “Mmm, tastes like bubblegum.”

“Blech!” Harry sounded after taking his own sip, making a face of disgust. “Nah man, where’s the good stuff?”

“Right here, mate!” exclaimed Niall as he strutted into the kitchen with a case of beer in each hand. Two more lads followed him in, carrying the same. Leave it to Niall.

“Not what I meant,” muttered Harry, walking around them to the living room.

The front door opened then, and another handful of people entered, some he knew, some he didn’t. He recognized Vickie, Ella’s roommate among them and when she spotted Harry she smiled.

“Birthday girl’s on her way,” she announced, setting a bag on the counter. Harry noticed the clinking sound it made which made his ears perk up.

“Harry!” Liam called as Vickie pulled out the bottles of both brown and clear liquor. “I think this is what you were looking for!”

Turning back to the kitchen, Harry eyed the bottles and was about to make a decision when a commotion started behind him. It wasn’t a surprise party, but it seemed every girl in the house had run to the front door to greet Ella when she arrived. Harry stood back, his hands in his pockets as he watched her beautiful smile, the pink in her cheeks when her friends hugged her or wished her a happy birthday.

He contemplated stepping forward to give her his own wishes, but soon thought better of it, deciding he’d give her time with her girlfriends first. Instead he made himself a drink, a proper strong one. At least one, he told himself. He didn’t need to get hammered, but he’d need the liquid courage if this was to finally be the night he told her how he felt about her. While he was at it, he reckoned he’d make a drink for Ella as well. He knew what she liked.

“Happy Birthday Ella!” he heard Liam exclaim over the loud music.

Harry looked up from his drink to see that the lad had beat him to the punch as he offered Ella a red cup of what he could only assume was the disgusting pink shit. He chuckled when he saw her make a face and shake her head.

“Um, no thanks, darling,” she said. “I think I’ll see if Harry has something more to my liking at the bar.”

He felt a warmth ooze throughout his body at both the mention of his name and the fact that she called the simple kitchen island with a handful of liquor bottles a bar. He watched as she took a couple strides through the living room and met him with a smile.

“What’ve we got here, bartender?” she asked.

Harry raised a brow. “Oh am I bartender? No one told me.”

“I’m joking,” she giggled, placing a hand on his bicep. “But can you make me something? I am the birthday girl, after all.”

With a smirk, Harry handed her the drink he’d mixed. “Just so happens I already did.”

A wide smile spread across Ella’s face as she took the cup. “See, this is why we’re besties.”

Harry’s face fell, but he quickly tried to compose himself. Clearing his throat, he nodded. “Yeah. You bet.”

Besties. Right.

“Hey, Ells Bells!” they suddenly heard behind them. They both turned to see Niall rushing towards Ella, nearly knocking her drink out of her hand when he enveloped her in a hug.

Harry rolled his eyes. He hated Niall’s stupid nickname for her. He suspected Ella wasn’t too keen on it either, especially when Harry’d slipped up once and called her that himself. She’d told him it was Niall’s name and she’d rather just leave it at that.

“Hello, Niall,” she greeted graciously, kissing him on either cheek.

“Who’s up for a game?” he asked.

Harry grimaced, knowing what kind of game Niall had in mind. But if Ella wanted to play…

“No thanks,” she shook her head. “I think I’ll sit it out this year, love, if it’s all the same.”

Niall shrugged. “Suit yourself. ‘s your birthday.”

“Besides,” Ella added with a cheeky grin, “I don’t want to end up like dear Lorna.”

Harry covered his mouth with his hand, nearly spewing out its contents. When he swallowed, he let out a loud guffaw, causing Niall’s cheeks to redden.

“Eat shit, the both o’ ya,” Niall spat before grabbing another beer from the cooler.

When he’d joined the group in the living room, the majority of them cheering at the prospect of a drinking game, Ella turned to Harry, her face flushed from laughing.

“You’re not gonna play?” she inquired.

“Nah, I’d rather not.”

“Wow. Harry Styles is not interested in getting smashed at a party?” she mocked. “Is the sky falling? Did I miss something?”

“No,” he replied with a shake of his head. “Just don’t feel like it tonight. I mean, I’m still drinking. Just...responsibly.”

“Uh huh. We’ll see how you are in an hour or two.”

“Oh we will?” he quirked a brow.

“Yeah. I’ll check in on you, but don’t expect me to hold your hair back when you’re retching in the toilet.”

He chuckled at their playful banter. He enjoyed taking the piss and teasing each other, even if Ella only thought of it as a friend thing. She didn’t need to know it gave him a boner sometimes.

“Styles, you’re not playing?” Liam called from the living room where a large group had gathered around the coffee table.

Harry simply held up his hands.

“It’s early yet,” Ella winked.

Early, indeed, Harry thought. Too early. He wanted this night to be over already, or at least get past the first part so he could possibly get a chance alone with her to give her his gift. He didn’t want her to open in front of everyone else. It was too personal, and if by chance she didn’t react to it the way he hoped, at least he’d only get his ego bruised a bit and not have to suffer a full embarrassment.

Vickie came up to Ella then, along with another girl who’s name Harry had forgotten. They chatted amongst themselves for a bit before Ella turned to Harry, her hand on his arm. Touch number two, he noted.

“Harry, we’ll be right back, Vickie wants to show me something.”

With a nod, Harry raised his now almost empty cup and drained the rest of his drink. He considered making a second, but reckoned he should pace himself if he didn’t want to hear Ella say ‘I told you so.’

He decided to wander into the living room and watch the others playing the drinking game. Sat on the couch, he laughed when Liam had to take a shot, then Ella’s friend Melissa had to take three in a row. Poor girl, Harry thought until she declared she could hold her own.

After a while, he got bored so he walked down the hall, wondering where Ella had gone. He couldn’t imagine there was anything in the house Vickie had wanted to show her. They’d probably gone outside or to her car. The music drifted down the hall as he made it to his room and sat on the bed. He was definitely not himself tonight. Normally he’d be the first one sat on the floor for a game, or at least by now he’d have a light buzz. He just wanted a clear head, he’d told himself. But it definitely wasn’t clear. All he could think about was her and what he was going to say, if he got the chance to say it.

Running his hands down his face, he took a deep breath and let it out. He stared at the floor for a good while, replaying in his mind the scenario he’d conjured up a couple years ago, edited and tweaked over time.

“Hey, what are you doing in here?”

He jumped when he heard her voice. Lifting his head, he saw her standing in the doorway, her gorgeous eyes wide with wonder.

“Hey,” he muttered softly. “Nothing, I’m just…”

Ella stepped into his room. She’d been in there several times, but this time as she sat on the bed, Harry felt himself tremble.

“Something wrong?” she asked. “Did one of those stupid prats out there give you a hard time? Because you know, that’s my job.”

She nudged Harry’s shoulder with her own, trying to lighten the mood. He laughed lightly under his breath, but said nothing.

“Hey. Harry. I’ve never seen you like this. What gives?”

She turned on the bed to face him, her legs criss crossed. Harry picked at his bottom lip. He wondered if this was it. If this was the moment he was supposed to take action. But how? Was he supposed to give her a long speech about how he’d pined for her for years, or was he supposed to just grab her and kiss her? 

“This is probably a shitty thing to say,” Ella continued, “but I’m not sure I like this Harry. Not that you’re only fun when you’re drunk, I don’t mean that. But you’re so serious and quiet. It kinda scares me.”

“Sorry,” he said a little too quickly. “Don’t mean to scare you.”

“Something on your mind?” she tugged at his shirt. “You can tell me, you know. I’m your best friend.”

“I got something for you,” Harry finally said.

“Yeah?” Ella beamed. She bounced on the bed excitedly. “What did ya get me?”

“Um…”

“Ella!” the sound was deafening, coming from the living room. “Hey birthday girl! It’s time for cake and presents!”

“Oh!” she eyed Harry who merely shrugged. “Well, you can give me your present now.”

Harry shook his head. “I’ll wait. Til later. It’s…”

“Oh,” Ella mouthed again, her voice a whisper this time. “Okay.”

Ella rose from the bed, pulling Harry by the arm. They joined the party in the living room, the drinking game seemingly at a pause. The cake sat in the middle of the coffee table, pink roses and candles atop, Ella’s name in the center.

“Thank you so much,” Ella blushed, her hands by her chest. “I’m gonna cry.”

“You say that every year,” Niall quipped.

“Hush, you!” Ella poked at him.

Vickie lit the candles and a chorus of ‘Happy Birthday’ began. Though he sang along, Harry was mesmerized by how beautiful Ella looked in the candle light. His stomach was in knots now, and he knew he had to tell her.

Ella opened her gifts next, giving sincere thanks and hugs to each guest. When it was time to cut the cake, however, Melissa made it known that Harry hadn’t given her a gift.

“What’s with that, Harry?” she slurred, obviously drunk from the game. “You’re her best friend, where’s yours?”

Harry shifted uncomfortably in his seat until Ella spoke up.

“He’s saving it for later,” she winked at him.

Good god, how many times was she going to wink at him tonight? Had she done that before? He didn’t remember.

“Ooh,” voiced Melissa in a sarcastic tone. “Excuse me.”

Noticing Vickie could probably use some help, Harry rose from his chair and joined her in the kitchen where she was dividing slices of cake onto plates.

“Oh, thanks Harry,” she said, handing him two plates that were ready to be served.

“I should be doing this anyway,” he offered. “Seeing as I’m her best friend and all that.”

He hadn’t meant for his comment to sound sarcastic, but he certainly noticed it came out that way. When he turned the corner, however, he heard a snort from Vickie, followed by a “yeah, sure”.

“What was that?” he asked.

“Nothing.”

“No, what was that sound for?”

“Go,” Vickie shooed at him. “Serve the cake.”

With a frown, Harry made for the living room where he handed Ella a slice of cake, making sure it had a rose on it, and gave the other to Melissa, despite the scowl on her face.

“What did you mean by ‘yeah, sure’?” Harry hounded Vickie when he returned.

“Oh for fuck’s sake, Harry, I didn’t mean anything by it.”

“You’re lying.”

“God, don’t be so sensitive,” she scoffed. Deciding Harry wasn’t moving fast enough, she brought more cake to the living room herself.

“Please tell me,” he urged when she came back to grab the last pieces. “Do you not think I’m her best friend?”

“Oh, certainly, Harry. You are.” Then she lowered her voice before completing her thought. “But you want to be more.”

Harry glared at her, his eyes wide. “What?”

“Oh c’mon, Harry! Everybody knows it.”

“Everybody?!”

Vickie giggled. “Don’t get so bent out of shape. Maybe I exaggerated. But Niall told me about your present.”

What the...too much was going on now, Harry’s mind was in a whirl.

“How does Niall know? I didn’t show him.”

“He found it in your room. Was looking for some shorts or something.”

“Jesus,” Harry mumbled with a sigh.

“Don’t worry, I didn’t tell anyone else. I have no idea who Niall told, but I reckon it was just me.”

“What the fuck…” Harry dropped his head. It suddenly felt too heavy for his neck. His entire body felt drained, and he thought he might be sick.

“Hey,” Vickie said low, “if it’s any consolation...Ella’s never confided in me about you or anything...but if you were to make a move, I don’t think she’d reject you.”

Biting his lip, he lifted his head. He was afraid to ask, but at this point he had nothing to lose.

“How do you know?”

“Well, I don’t know. But she literally talks about you all the time. I notice how she looks at you. It’s possible it’s just a friend-like fondness because she really does love and adore you. But I swear they look like heart eyes to me.”

With another sigh, his shoulders dropped. He admitted he felt a little relieved. But he was still extremely nervous.

“Thanks, Vickie,” he said.

“Here,” she grinned, “have some cake.”

“Nah. I think I’ll make another drink.” Harry grabbed a bottle and a new cup, filling it with ice.

“Whatever works for you, darling.”

Vickie joined the group in the living room while Harry nursed his cocktail for a bit. He watched Ella with her other friends, her head falling back as she laughed. Taking her final bite of cake, she looked up and their eyes locked. She tilted her head in question before rising from the couch.

“Here we go again,” she smiled as she leant against the counter. “Are you gonna tell me what’s wrong or not?”

“Not,” he managed a grin. “‘Cause nothing’s wrong.”

“Then why are you over here by yourself? Are you secretly getting drunk so I won’t notice?”

“Nope.”

“Hmm. So...how about that present?”

“I told you, I’ll give it to you later.” he replied, hoping his tone was light and playful.

“You’re being mean,” she pouted, resting her chin in her hand.

Harry chuckled. “No, ‘m not!”

“Well, you’re being weird then.”

“Sorry,” he muttered before taking a drink. “I just...wanna give it to you with no one else around.”

“Ooh. I’m intrigued.”

Harry noticed how her bum stuck out and she wiggled it just slightly. It almost seemed like she was keeping time with the music playing, but he wasn’t sure. Whatever the reason, he felt his blood rush to his crotch and he had to take another gulp from his cup.

“Make me one of those?” she asked, her eyelashes fluttering.

Harry obliged, pouring the liquor over ice and adding soda. When he handed it to her and she took a sip, her eyes widened.

“Is this what you’re drinking?”

“Yeah,” Harry laughed.

“This is way stronger than the first one you made me,” Ella claimed.

“Well, you gotta start off slow.” This time it was his turn to wink.

“Bloody hell, Styles, maybe I am getting drunk tonight.”

Ella rarely called him by his last name unless she was scolding him. With her hand on his arm as she took another drink, he suddenly decided he liked it.

The moment was short-lived, however, when his reverie was interrupted by the noise of half the party joining them in the kitchen. Apparently it was refill time, and they all began to freshen their cups or grab beers. They all chatted for a bit, and before long the whole gang was singing a chorus of “Smells Like Teen Spirit”. Harry realized he was enjoying himself, and was remembering it was a party and started to loosen up.

“Feeling better?” Ella asked, her doe eyes smiling up at him as she placed another hand on his arm. How many times was that now? He’d lost count.

He grinned, looking down at his now empty cup.

“Sorry I’ve been…” he didn’t know how to complete the sentence.

“No worries, darling,” sang Ella. “I just like it best when you’re like this. Happy and smiling. You have a dynamite smile.”

Before Harry could respond, her hand dropped from his arm and he suddenly felt a chill.

“Going to the loo,” she whispered in his ear. “Make me another?”

Harry watched her walk away before he refilled both of their cups with ice and made the same drink as last time.

“So did you tell her yet?”

Harry lifted his gaze to see Melissa standing across from him, a cheeky grin spread across her face.

“Tell who what?” he asked.

“Ella,” she rolled her eyes. “That you’re in love with her.”

Harry’s jaw dropped just as Liam and his footie pal Derek gasped.

“Wait...whoa...what?”

Harry searched the faces in the kitchen before landing on Vickie’s who simply shrugged. Then he glared at Niall.

“Don’t look at me, mate,” he held up his hands.

“It’s my fault,” Melissa admitted. “I saw the letter you typed on your laptop.”

“Letter?” Harry asked incredulously.

“Oh my God, there’s a letter?” Niall brought his fist to his mouth.

Harry thought he might be sick right there on the kitchen tile. Rounding the island, Melissa looked at him.

“Honestly Harry, I thought everyone knew. It’s rather obvious, don’t you think?”

“I didn’t think,” conveyed Liam.

“I might’ve suspected,” said Derek.

“I didn’t really know,” added Niall with a shrug. “Until I saw the box in your wardrobe.”

“What box?” piped Liam.

“I only told Vickie about it, I swear,” Niall continued. “I was wondering if maybe there was already something going on and no one told me.”

“You didn’t think to just ask me?” Harry scoffed, his jaw set. “And what were you doing in my room anyway?”

“Bloody hell, Harry!” exclaimed Melissa when he stepped closer to Niall like he was going to clock him. “What’s the big deal? It’s not like she hasn’t been in love with you for years anyway!”

“What?”

All was silent then, except for Ariana Grande who sang from the speakers in the living room as everyone turned to see Ella stood by the kitchen, her face full of shock, bewilderment and disbelief.

“Ohh shit,” someone muttered low.

“What’s going on?” Ella asked, her eyes wide and her fists at her sides. She appeared to be breathing heavily, her chest rising and falling rapidly. It was Harry’s instinct to pull her away from the crowd and hold her forever, but his feet seemed to be nailed to the ground.

The others in the kitchen quickly busied themselves, the beer and disgustingly sweet punch somehow suddenly the topic of conversation.

“Ella, the birthday girl!” cheered Liam. “What can I get you to drink, love?”

“Melissa?” Ella called, ignoring Liam’s attempt at distraction. “What did you just say?”

“Um...nothing um...important,” her friend stumbled. “I was just reminding Harry here what great friends you are and how it’s a wonder you’ve...never...become...more.”

Blinking, Ella looked from Melissa to Harry. He seemed to be in the same state of shock she was in, his adam’s apple bobbing up and down each time he swallowed.

“Ella…” he breathed, unable to spit out any other word.

“Um...guys…” offered Vickie, coming around the counter with her arms open. “Now might be a good time to open that present.”

She eyed Harry strongly, giving a slow nod of her head. Her hands on each of their backs, she ushered them towards the hallway and into Harry’s room. Without a word, she closed the door behind her, leaving Ella and Harry alone.

They stood in the center of the bedroom, staring at each other and waiting for the other to speak until Harry finally broke the silence.

“Is it true?”

A blush rose in Ella’s already pink cheeks as she bit her bottom lip and nodded. Harry wasted no time erasing the space between them, taking her face in his hands and planting a soft kiss on her mouth.

Startled at first, Ella froze, her hands in the air. Then she soon relaxed, letting her hands fall on Harry’s arms as she kissed him back.

“Ella…” he breathed again when he broke the kiss, his lips nearly still attached to hers. “I’ve...I’ve been in love with you for years too.”

“Since when?” Ella looked up at him with her big beautiful eyes.

“Since...I met you?”

“Liar,” she quipped, stepping back as she tugged on the hem of his shirt.

“Well…” Harry chuckled nervously. “Soon after...I reckon it was that day after the footie game when we were walking back and you asked if I was enjoying school so far.”

Ella glared at Harry, her brows raised. “First year? I don’t think I even remember that.”

“I do,” said Harry. “Very well. You had your hair back in a plait, but the sides were falling down. The sun was starting to set, and I just thought you were the sweetest thing I’d ever seen. I wanted to kiss you so bad.”

Ella hummed softly as she ran her hands up his chest.

“Kiss me again,” she pleaded. “Just like you wanted to then.”

Cupping her face again, Harry tilted his head and brought his mouth to hers. Ella felt the tingles right to her toes, a tiny squeak of a moan escaping her throat. That was music to Harry’s ears, and he eagerly slipped his tongue between her lips, meeting hers with a jolt of electricity. They kissed each other like they meant it, like it was everything they’d ever wanted. When Ella repeated her sound of pleasure, Harry lifted her by her bum and carried her to the bed.

“Your lips are so soft,” he declared, his body pressed against hers.

“Yours too.”

His hand on Ella’s waist, he lifted her shirt slightly until he touched skin. The connection was like fire, an explosion of all the senses. He began to kiss her neck then, feeling her pant beneath his lips, sending his blood rushing throughout his entire body.

“Oh my God, Harry,” Ella moaned. “I’ve wanted this for so long.”

“Yeah?” Harry asked with a smirk. “Me too.”

“Really?

“Fuck yes.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked.

“Why didn’t you?”

“Because…” Ella hesitated. “I didn’t wanna ruin the friendship.”

“Me neither,” said Harry.

“So what do we do now?” Ella looked at him with equal parts desire and apprehension.

“Ruin the friendship.”

Ella giggled, causing Harry’s chest to tickle and his smile to widen.

“I guess...if both of us feel the same,” she remarked, “it’s not really ruining it, is it?”

“I suspect not.”

After a few more kisses, Harry rested his forehead against hers as he listened to both of their breathing.

“I should stop,” he groaned.

“No. Why?”

Lifting his head, Harry looked Ella in the eye. She was so beautiful, her pouty lips already swollen from his kisses, her gaze questioning. There were so many things he wanted to do to her, with her. But they’d only just confessed how they felt. Actually, they hadn’t really fully done that. Someone else had let the cat out of the bag.

“Um...let me...give you your present,” he said, sliding off the bed.

“Okay.”

Ella sat up, pushing her hair from her face as Harry rummaged through his wardrobe and pulled out a small box. Setting it on the bed, he cleared his throat.

“So um...there’s a letter that’s supposed to go with it. I was going to read it while you open the gift. It kind of explains it all. But...since you already know, I reckon it’s pointless.”

“No, I’d like to hear the letter,” Ella smiled sweetly.

“Right then,” Harry chuckled nervously while he pulled out a folded sheet of paper from his back pocket. Clearing his throat again, he began to read…

Dear Ella,

Four years ago, we met in Lit class. While I didn’t make the best marks, I felt as though I aced it because you were sat next to me. Your love for literature was infectious, and I always left class with a smile on my face. I also began to enjoy your company at football games. It was obvious to me that despite the fact that you weren’t a massive fan of the sport, you came along to cheer on your friends, and I thought that was just a kind thing to do. You’ve always had a compassionate heart and a kind soul, and I reckon that’s why I began to have deeper feelings for you.

As the years have gone by, I’ve tried my best to convince myself that we’re just meant to be friends. I consider you my best friend, and I cherish our friendship more than anything. Many times I’ve wanted to tell you how I really felt, but the timing was just off, or I was chicken shit. I worried that you didn’t think of me in any other way, and being just your friend was better than nothing at all.

I still feel that way, but tonight, on your birthday, I’m putting myself out there and taking that risk. You have my heart, Ella. I want you to be mine, both my friend and my lover. I want to kiss you better than you’ve ever been kissed. I want to hold you in my arms and tell you every day how in love with you I am. You deserve the moon and the stars, the heavens and the entire universe...and I want to be the one to give it all to you.

I pray that you’ll have me as more than a friend, and accept my heart as I hand it over to you.

Yours eternally,

Harry

Dropping the paper, Harry noticed Ella was in tears, her cheeks wet as she tried desperately to wipe them.

“That was the most beautiful letter,” she whispered.

Laying the letter on the bed, Harry sat down next to it and handed Ella the box.

“I hope you like it,” he said.

It was a simple white box, unwrapped but a pink bow adorned the top. When Ella lifted the lid, she gasped. Inside sat a silver charm bracelet containing six delicate charms. She fingered each one before looking up at Harry, waiting for his explanation.

“Here, may I?” he asked, lifting the bracelet from the box.

Ella nodded and Harry unlatched the clasp and wrapped it around her delicate wrist. Ella watched his mouth as he began to describe each charm.

“A book,” he said, touching the first one. “For your love of literature. A football, for all the games you went to.”

Ella smiled, recalling all the great memories she had of watching Harry and his team.

“Two hearts…” he added. “One for your big, kind heart. And one for mine which you now own.”

Without hesitation, Ella lifted her other hand to Harry’s cheek. He smiled back at her.

“And...the moon and the stars…” he finished. “Because you deserve them.”

“Harry…” Ella murmured softly, more tears threatening to fall from her eyes. “I don’t know what to say.”

Dropping his hands to her waist, Harry pulled her closer.

“Say you feel the same, Ella,” he whispered. “Say you love me too.”

“I do,” she declared. “I so very much do.”

Hope you enjoyed!

Please like, comment, reblog or send me a msg!

MASTERLIST | KO-FI | FEEDBACK

[2knightt]

Heyyy!!! Could i please get The gang with a reader they were never romantically interested in, just friends with, getting a glow up? And the gang slowly realizes they have feelings for them? And reader used to have a crush on them? Angsty please 🤧🙏🏽

୧ ׅ𖥔 ۫ tastes like she might be the one. ⋄ 𓍯

REQUESTED…the gang realizes what they lost a little too late.

tags/warnings: shitty angst, gn!reader, reader isn’t forgiving, EVERYONE is toxic, story-focused, i made reader and the gang stop being friends cuz rejection is awkward.

ೃauthor notes⁀➷ i seen this req and started maliciously laughing to myself while rubbing my hands

—

johnny cade

falling in love with your best friend. it’s a common troupe in tv shows, but have you ever noticed it never works out in real life?

you watched from a distance as johnny walked around the whole east-side with ponyboy. your ‘best friend’ was hanging out with someone else after telling you, ‘he was busy.’

a sudden feeling of disappointment washed over you. it was no longer the usual sadness you felt after seeing johnny hang out with his other friends after bailing on you.

you were almost numb to it.

the ball in your throat you’d usually get as tears swelled in your eyes evolved into thoughts of what was for dinner.

before, you’d drop hints that you’d like him. all johnny would do is brush them off. you know he’s not stupid and that he knew what you meant, he just didn’t feel the same.

now, you’re avoiding him. which was easier than you think as it still seemed he was uncomfortable around you.

eventually, you just stopped talking. people would ask why you guys don’t hang out anymore or they’d ask where johnny was. all you’d do was shrug your shoulders.

why should you care?

a significant amount of time had passed since johnny last seen you face-to-face. obviously, he was mature enough to admit that it was his fault. but, he can’t stand being awkward around you.

until one fateful and unfortunate day.

“ow! jesus, man—watch where you’re going.”

“yea.”

johnny mumbled, watching the random, rather pretty person, rub their head. you looked up instead of looking down at the concrete, only to meet johnny cade’s eyes.

“johnny?”

“wait-y/n?”

his eyes scanned you up and down, shock settings in. how were you the same person he’d giggle with about the latest comic?

“uh, yeah. tha’s me.”

you mumbled, feeling a little bit awkward from it all. i mean, who wouldn’t? he’s looking at you like you’re a model from the magazine’s two-bit steals.

“…wow. you, uhm—look amazing.”

“yeah, thanks.”

you two muttered amongst yourselves, looking like the epitome of awkward teens. johnny was rubbing the back of his neck as you picked at your nails.

“so,”

johnny started, his voice already shaking and unstable.

“what’re you doing this week?”

“gonna be busy. sorry.”

you waved off his question before saying a sorry excuse for a goodbye.

johnny stood there, feeling slight deja vu as you walked past him. he used to tell you he was gonna be busy to stay away.

and now here you are, doing the same.

the ball in this throat wouldn’t go away no matter how hard he tried to swallow it back, no matter how hard he tried to blink the tears away.

a familiar feeling of sadness washed over him

dallas winston

“it’s not like i’d ever date you, anyhow.”

sure, he was drunk when he said it as you carried him out of the drive-in. but, you know the saying. drunk words are sober thoughts.

you liked dallas. like, a lot. many might’ve said he wasn’t worthy of you—you disagreed each time. but, it was clear he didn’t feel the same.

he treated you like a friend. which, you two were friends, but it’s hard to watch someone you love treat you like the same guys he puts into headlocks.

after that, you distanced yourself. you knew he was cursing you deep down for ignoring him, fuelling his belief that every person was out for him.

but, you couldn’t look at him without feeling like crying while angrily punching him.

a few months went passed and you, somehow, managed to steer clear of dallas winston for the time being.

until one slip-up.

you and your new-found-friends all watched the drag race with giggles and cheers filling the air.

a tap on your shoulder pulled you out of the trance, turning your head only to be greeted with dallas’ cold, dark eyes.

“i thought that was you, y’know. where the hell have you been?”

everyone got awkward. you avoided his gaze whilst your friends went silent, whispering to each other.

“around.”

“so, you go ‘round and change up your whole look?”

“exactly.”

you answered, an obvious attitude in your voice as you held back an eye roll.

“well, you look good. if that’s what you wanna hear.”

“i know. now go away, dallas.”

you spat before turning your attention back to the track, quickly talking your friends back into their excited mood.

dallas watched as you acted like he didn’t exist. he clenched his jaw as he walked away, his hands in a fist while walking into an abandoned alleyway.

a crack was heard from his knuckles, followed by a groan. his skin was red, fresh wounds opening before he punched the brick wall again.

the seconds felt like minutes and the minutes felt like hours as dallas trashed the alleyway, making it look like a tornado had rushed through only the narrow path.

anger was the only thing he felt. for you embarrassing him and for allowing you to slip through his fingers.

ponyboy curtis

“i don’t see myself datin’ you. you know that, right?”

he snapped after you, not so subtly, hinted that you liked him. ponyboy was always one for brutal honesty, but at a time like this, it wasn’t needed.

the longer and longer you thought about it, you seemed to create this idea of ponyboy. the one that would take you out, not ignore your feelings, step up when he had to, and most importantly—actually like you.

delusional is what you’d call it. psycho is what ponyboy told his friends as you sat across the street with yours.

over summer break, it was only natural you’d mature and grow into your looks. you were always beautiful, but the change was enough to knock anyone out of their seat.

especially when it was your ex-crush slash ex-best friend.

you sat out on a bench by the lot, chin tilted up to look at the stars that twinkled. the concept of ‘vampire stars,’ always amazed you.

things so beautiful were still able to suck the lives out of the ones closest to them. the shining dots in the black ink of the sky still resembled the humans below.

“y/n..? why are you out so late?”

you heard a groggy voice come from behind you after a tap on your shoulder. unfortunately for you, you immediately recognized the voice.

“i was jus’ about to go home, ponyboy.”

you mumbled in response, quick to gather your things. panic washed over pony as he seen you getting ready to leave. his hand grabbed your wrist, loosening his grip as he realized how weird it was.

“can’t you stay a little longer and talk?”

“not really, i don’t see myself talking to you anytime soon. good night, ponyboy.”

you answered rather bluntly as you yanked your wrist out of his hold. you walked away without bothering to look behind you.

ponyboy stood there, dumbfounded. he was always one to read between the lines—so when you told him, “anytime soon,” he took that as, “i’ll talk to you, just not right now.”

call it delusion or insanity, but in his head, he was just seeing someone who is still getting over the crush they had on him.

maybe you’ll like him back soon.

sodapop curtis

“i like someone else, y/n. ‘m real sorry.”

even when he’s rejecting you, he still treated you better than any other guy you’d dated. that’s why you could never say you hated sodapop curtis, he’s too sweet for such a word.

although, he wasn’t all that sweet if he was avoiding you. soda said he’d forget like the whole confession thing happened, but he clearly didn’t even bother trying.

you longed for him to even wave at you. for his eyes to meet yours. you just wanted his attention. desperation was truly a shameful thing.

he was so quick to go and date sandy. maybe it was a blessing in disguise. it helped you move on quicker. slower than most, yes, but quicker than you ever thought.

you had met a rather cute guy awhile back. made you feel like a little girl again with how special he treated you. he made you forget all about soda.

you waved goodbye to your boyfriend as he kissed you on the cheek before you closed the car door. he dropped you off at home, so it wasn’t a far walk. any farther and sodapop, who was sitting inside, would’ve went crazy.

your mom had let him in, pushing your old history aside and offered him a hot cup of tea. he sipped on it while holding back tears.

once the click of the lock was heard, soda’s eyes began to water.

“y/n, sandy she-“

he mumbled as he seemed to lunge at you, his arms already wrapped around you. you felt his tears hit the crown of your head like bullets.

despite your morals, you pushed him away, wriggling yourself out of your grasp.

“dude, you can’t just do that.”

“why not? i thought we were best friends.”

“were, soda. we were friends.”

you said flatly, no emotion past disappointment in your voice when you spoke while you took your shoes off.

“and don’t touch me. i have a boyfriend.”

“you what?”

“yeah. i don’t like you anymore and we aren’t friends. you can go home now.”

soda stood there with a broken expression on his face, he was nothing more than a defeated and an empty man in a house that was no longer comforting.

he watched as you walked around the corner, not even sparing a glance toward him.

a small part of him hoped you would. you’d gotten prettier since he’d last saw you. your eyes shinned brighter, your smile was wider, and you stood with more confidence.

he really, really wanted you to look at him.

darry curtis

“look, y/n. i like you and all, but i needa focus on myself and my football.”

two years ago, before you guys graduated, you confessed. you immediately regretted it.

you looked a fool as darry curtis nervously rubbed the back of his head. all you did was nod and let out a small, ‘okay,’ before walking off.

you went to the college that was the farthest away from tulsa. being in the city reminded you of the embarrassment.

as you studied, you obviously matured. both mentally and physically. you no longer held the silly grudge against darry, even when you had to go back to visit family.

but all it took was a small wave toward darry for all the memories to go rushing back. but, not to you. to him.

seeing you giggle as you played with your younger cousins made him regret telling you he wanted to focus on football.

he envisioned the life you two could’ve had.

you helping ponyboy with his schoolwork, comforting soda when sandy had left him, and making him a home cooked meal when he went home.

but that’s all behind him now. it was just a fantasy.

you two are older. and even then, it’s not like you’d give him a chance. you still think he’s the biggest football star.

steve randle

“i don’t like you. i’m sorry, y/n. i jus’ don’t.”

and he left it off at that. of course, you never out right said you liked him. steve randle wasn’t stupid, however.

he knows how to read between the lines. and you know when to leave someone alone. and steve clearly didn’t want to be around you.

you watched longingly from afar when you seen him in any casual setting. you’d do anything to take the confession back—to go back to normal.

as the weeks and months passed, you never even seen steve. it seemed your obsessive staring and the need to check up on him constantly ended.

the habit, or rather the addiction, finally stopped.

it didn’t stop for steve. he seen you at the DX for the first time in awhile, smiling and giggling with your friends.

you’d only smile like that with him. he grasped the wrench harder as he clenched his jaw.

while paying, steve made sure to walk through the front doors so you’d see him.

“oh. hey, y/n.”

“…hey.”

you muttered with your brows pinched together, looking at him like he was the girls you used to gossip about him with.

“so, uh—you look nice.”

“thanks.”

your boring answer made it seem like you wanted a way out. and steve knew when to let go of a conversation, he wasn’t dumb.

you walked past him and out the door, your friends glaring at him. his eyes never left your figure as you walked away.

he wished he could take back the words he said. maybe if he wasn’t so rude, you’d be back beside him.

two-bit mathews

“you’re funny, y/n.”

funny. funny was what he thought about your feelings. you loving him was funny.

fine. you’d show him funny. let’s see if him being without you was ‘funny.’

you avoided him, ignoring him when he tried to call you over. this would help you move on and show him what was fucking ‘funny.’

the next, ‘hey, y/n,’ should be the last. you couldn’t stand to look at the dumb curl from his brunette hair that rested on his forehead. you couldn’t stand his laugh.

two-bit had gotten the hint. he left you alone even though it felt weird walking around town without you.

he hadn’t seen you in weeks, until at the bar. he heard your giggle and suddenly his heart raced like never before.

maybe it was jealousy or dislike.

two-bit found you sitting on a bar stool, a shot in hand. out of instinct and habit, he wrapped an arm around your shoulders.

“two-bit?”

“why’ve you been ignoring me, dude?”

the humour in his voice was no longer there as he felt nothing was funny in you ignoring him.

“that’s funny, two. go bother dallas or somethin’.”

you grumbled with your jaw clenched, pushing him off you. two-bit muttered something under his breath as he pushed the exit.

he cannot stand the way your hands were still soft or how your lips were still parted when you focused in on the conversation.

[roronoacherries]

Imagine one piece characters going through your room and finding one of those nsfw figures 🗣️🗣️

thank you for this request 🙏🏽

𝐡𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐬 | zoro, nami, & sanji

you keep it tucked away in a little box under your bed, taking it out to admire it from time to time — the craftsmanship is amazing! you reason. it’s not like you’re wondering whether they really look like this… wondering what it’d feel like to run your hands along their skin.

you keep it wrapped in a cloth for extra measure. that box is the same place you keep your toys, those magazines, and the filthy romance novels you don’t want anyone to see…

it’s a safe little storage place, that’s all. no one has stumbled upon it; not until you’re knuckles deep in your cunt and hear a knock on your door. you think you’re ok when you manage to get to the door and act like you weren’t just on the edge of a beautiful orgasm. you’d stuffed the magazine you’d had beside you in the box, too.

they wouldn’t notice, would they? but when you turned to find what they’d come to ask you for, the hastily closed box caught their attention. and you could only hold your breath and think at least that was still under wraps.

𝐫𝐨𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐨𝐚 𝐳𝐨𝐫𝐨

“what’s this?”

you stood frozen. “it’s nothing.”

you hadn’t closed the magazine properly and zoro’s gaze was studying the image of the man, muscular with golden skin, shimmering with sweat, a katana in one hand and his length in the other.

the only thing keeping you from dying of embarrassment is the relief that he hasn’t found that figure. you have every right to pleasure yourself, after all.

but it’s not enough for the swordsman, apparently, to find that you’ve been fucking yourself to the picture of a man who appears eerily similar to him, he has to rummage through the box, hands grazing the toys you’ve buried in your cunt before, painting a picture in his mind of you whimpering helplessly (and he thinks to himself that he could make you feel so much more pleasure with his hands alone).

no, he has to take that figure, wrapped carefully in a black cloth he could swear is the bandana he lost months ago, and uncover its contents.

you take it from his hands before he can get a good look at it, holding it behind your back. “you shouldn’t go through people’s things.”

but the damage has been done and the smirk on his lips is enough indication of that. “i’m bigger than that.”

and your face turns red, out of shame, anger, or lust you’re not sure.

“wanna see?”

𝐜𝐚𝐭 𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐠𝐥𝐚𝐫 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐢

“my boobs look better than this,” is all she says before a smirk turns her lips. “don’t you think?”

you look down at her chest, covered only by a lacy top you could swear is a size too small, before averting your eyes. “of course,” you say, your voice almost a whisper.

nami laughs and your cheeks burn red. the navigator has a way of making you feel small that makes your pussy throb. “you can look. it’s okay,” she coos. “free of charge.”

“i only got it because i didn’t think you’d want some pervert to…” but your eyes steal another look at her pretty, perfect breasts anyway.

“you can touch them, too.” nami says, her voice beckoning you closer, ignoring your excuses. when you don’t move, she takes it upon herself to step closer to you, reaching for your hand and guiding it to her chest.

and you can’t help but stare now, feeling her soft hand over yours, wondering what it’d be like to press your lips there.

you don’t notice her hand sneaking under your oversized shirt — you hadn’t bothered to put your panties back on, thinking you’d be back in your bed soon enough — until her finger touches the slick, rubbing lightly back and forth until your eyes flutter and a moan escapes your lips, your hand giving her chest an involuntary squeeze.

“sorry if i interrupted you…” she pulls her finger away, giving it a slow lick. “don’t worry. i’ll pay you back.”

her hand disappears behind her back, smoothly untying the straps of her top, letting it fall to the ground, gently pushing you back with her other hand until you’re lying back on the bed. “i have to thank you for keeping me out of those dirty perverts’ minds, after all.”

𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐥𝐞���� 𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐣𝐢

he doesn’t mean to look, but the box was open and he thought he’d recognized some of the covers of those filthy magazines. he thought his eyes had played tricks on him; a sweet angel like you couldn’t be looking at something like that. and it had to be a coincidence that those specific issues were the ones that had gone missing from his own collection.

he couldn’t blame you; there were some beautiful images in those pages… of men and women alike. and he wondered which ones you’d bunny-eared.

he thought about reaching for it to check — your back was still turned to him, you wouldn’t know — but something else had caught his eye.

“is this… me?”

when you’d noticed it’d been too late. you’d been a fool and hadn’t wrapped it well enough, of course he’d see it.

“sanji, i swear it’s not what it looks like-”

you panic trying to think of a lie. trying to convince him that you don’t drool at the thought of sucking him off, helping him destress on those days when he can’t seem to get out of the kitchen.

“fuck, angel,” he tuts, his voice deep and breathy. “haven’t i told you that if you want anything from me, all you have to do is ask?”

you nod, your thighs squeezing together at the change in his demeanor. you notice his hand already gently kneading himself through his pants.

“so tell me what you need, princess.”

─────────────────────────────

tags: @idiotlittleme @zoros-4th-sword @i8hyuka @gaby-chwan @dimimyth @zoronnoa @tinkywinky27 @lyriczhou @maaarshieee @zorobraun @trafalgardvivi

masterlist | taglist

[save-the-villainous-cat]

One bed trope but angsty????

“That’s quite a mess,” the villain noticed. They stared at the once clean sink. Now, there was blood everywhere, along with bandages and a bottle of vodka. Ultimately, their eyes wandered back to the hero who had taken the liberty to claim the bed. They looked exhausted and deep down, the villain was a little angry at the both of them for not acting sooner.

For being so reckless.

“Didn’t have the energy to clean up,” the hero admitted. They’d been crying and the villain was fully aware of how awful their…partner must’ve felt.

“Is the bullet still in your shoulder?” the villain asked. Back then, the hero’s wellbeing had been all the villain could think about. It had been a sharpshooter. And the villain hadn’t acted soon enough.

The hero had been in shock, hadn’t felt anything and the villain wasn’t really too keen on instructing them to get back to the hotel on their own.

“No, it’s in the sink.” Their voice was flat, emotionless even. “Don’t worry, I’ll take the floor in a minute, I just need to…”

“No, stay there.” They closed the bathroom door and sat down on the bed. “Any pain?”

“Took a bunch of painkillers. It’ll be fine.”

The villain had never had great conversational skills and whenever they tried to be encouraging, their words got stuck in their throat. Often, they felt like it would be best to say nothing at all.

“Why would that sharpshooter miss my head?” the hero asked. About an hour ago, the hero had been shot. They had managed to get back to the hotel without getting spotted which (in itself) was already a miracle. And the villain had followed them once the gunshots had stopped.

They had a theory. The hero seemed to know the answer already.

“I don’t know,” the villain said. Most of the time, the villain couldn’t tell what the hero was feeling. They supposed that years of training, hell, a decade even, had shaped them into something flawless that refused to show imperfections. Especially emotions. “Let’s not worry about that. We should get you to a medic. Maybe you know someone who might help us?”

The hero shook their head.

“The only ones who come to mind are at the academy.”

And that was a sensitive topic. After all, those people had tried to take out the hero in the first place. The sheer thought of those people made the villain’s blood boil but they knew two angry people wouldn’t get anywhere.

Suddenly, the hero was close to tears and the villain saw how their bottom lip shook. They hid their face in a pillow but the villain wasn’t going to watch them suffer like that.

“We’ll find a solution to this, I promise. We will get you to a doctor first. I may know a few people. And then we will prove your innocence, okay?” the villain asked. They tilted their head and pushed a loose strand out of the hero’s eyes. “You will get your old life back, I promise. Everything will be fine.”

“But they don’t even want me there,” the hero whispered. “The academy accused me. They had fake proof and convinced everyone: other heroes, citizens, even my friends, I—”

“Hey, it’ll be fine. And even if they don’t want you back, then we’ll just bomb the entire place.” The villain really didn’t know what to do, so they went through the hero’s hair with their fingers. They remembered it from their childhood; it was something distant, something soothing that had always calmed them down. “Deep breaths, okay?”

The hero obeyed and slowly, their face softened.

“You’re insane,” they said with only the tiniest hint of a smile on their face. They made a little bit of room for the villain and admittedly, considering the villain’s own tiredness, they couldn’t refuse. They slipped under the blanket before the hero could change their mind.

“In a good way.”

“Not necessarily.”

Silence. The villain could just stare at the hero, a little broken and definitely at the end of their rope.

“You know, real friends wouldn’t believe those lies. And true friends wouldn’t shoot at you,” the villain said. “Even if they missed your head on purpose.”

“…I know,” the hero said. “Maybe that’s why I came to you.”

The villain thought about that sentence until they fell asleep.