#the joke is that I actually am sick and I still debated not calling in

[midoriiya]

calling in sick to work as a treat

[catbountry]

This is the third time I am writing this post because I feel like the idea I'm trying to convey keeps slipping away from me as I keep piling on context, and really, all it is... is just making excuses. I held transmed beliefs and questioned the validity of nonbinary gender identities back on Kiwi Farms. Now, I feel like if circumstances were slightly different, I probably would identify as enby.

Honestly.

The only reason I don't is because my feelings towards being a woman are pretty neutral. All of my problems I had in regards to gender growing up was not so much being a girl, but being constantly told by other girls and older women that I was being a girl wrong. Being a woman is perfectly fine with me; it's the sexism and policing of what is acceptable gender expression I have a problem with.

I don't think I can fully identify as queer, even though most of my friends are and I feel like they get me, so I feel perfectly at home. At the end of the day, I am fine with being a woman, and I am exclusively attracted to men. And I hate to say it, but it's cis men and maybe AMAB enbies who are okay with presenting more masculine. I just really, really like dicks. I don't really like vaginas, even though I imagine most people who would look at me and how I dress myself would assume that I am. And I know this, because I have been called homophobic slurs in public.

Is simply being gender nonconforming enough to be queer? I'm not sure, because I don't know if I'd ever be in a relationship that would be in danger because of legislation being passed. I could, however, see myself getting shit for my gender presentation, because I get people trying to clock me as either a trans man at the start of their transition or genderqueer. I'm in a pretty blue state, in a college town, surrounded by a lot of people younger than me who are overall much more accepting than I had been at their age, though, so realistically, I'm probably not in danger of being targeted for possibly being queer. Would that make me queer adjacent, though? I don't fucking know, but at the same time... I feel at home hanging around a bunch of queer folks. One of my friends joked that I'm straight, but I'm pretty gay about it. There are a lot of times where I will feel like one of the only cishet people in a group. Maybe it's because I've refused to give up the general subculture aesthetic and have been wearing graphic tees, ripped jeans and Chuck Taylors since high school, and I'm not going to stop anytime soon. I still get mistaken for being in my 20's so I am going to ride that shit into the ground, baby.

Things have changed a lot. Culture has changed. The internet has changed. I've changed. Everybody's on the goddamn internet now, including a lot of people who seem utterly clueless about its culture and history. I don't have anybody in my circles of friends that would ever identify as "anti-SJW" anymore. There is no debate in any of the circles I'm in on the validity of trans people at all, or nonbinary people. I look to those who I might have either associated with loosely or engaged with their content, and they just seem like they spiraled into increasing extremism, and for many of them, it doesn't seem like it's just to keep the grift going. They're true believers. And a part of me finds it kind of sad, actually, because they're going to just be miserable fucks for the rest of their lives if they keep their current trajectory. The momentum of the trans rights movement is not going to stop. Normies are getting sick of politicians focusing on transgender people. And within the trans community itself, the infighting has pretty much stopped because of just how tight the screws are being turned as conservatives go all out on the last socially acceptable group they can go against. They're being much more blatant about their bigotry in a way that's so flagrant, it would have been unthinkable ten years ago. We've got bigger problems.

Why am I even writing all of this out? I don't know. It's not like these posts are going to show up on Google when people look me up and see "callout" after my username in the suggestions. But it's important to me to map out these thoughts, I suppose, because actually changing means a lot more than grovelling and saying sorry to be accepted by people who wouldn't be willing to hear me out in the first place. I don't even think I fully regret being on Kiwi Farms; I more regret sticking around as long as I did, and if you've been paying attention to me posting about major life events I've been dealing with recently, you may have noticed I kind of have a problem with sticking around toxic people or places out of some misplaced sense of loyalty.

I guess I'm just stubborn.

TL;DR I feel pretty bad about not believing nonbinary identities weren't valid because I feel like I almost kind of sort of feel that? Also trans rights forever and ever,

[signedeclipse]

Hi there! Since your requests are open can I request a matchup?

Preferably male demon/slayer B)

I'm 20 year old agender person and I use all pronous

I'm 5'9 feet tall, green eyes, medium brown hair to my shoulders with blonde ends and I am slightly chubby. I mostly wear masculine clothing with some punkish/metalhead accents like spiky bracelets and edgy t shirts.

My hobbies are mostly drawing, going out with friends, gaming and occasionally partying.

When it comes to my personality I'm very cold at first but I get comfortable and extroverted really fast. I am loud Overdramatic overtalker who likes to argue and debate from time to time (ENTP). I have slight anger problem and I am brutally honest which means I can be unlikeable when you first meet me. Im very cheerful and a "funny friend" to my loved ones, will protect them with my heart and hold grudges to anyone who makes them somehow upset. I also make a lot of dark humor jokes and I tease my friends which sometimes pisses them off.

My love language is mostly quality time/ physical touch but only with really close people to me

I'm demisexual which means I have to get an emotional connection with a Person before anything happens

Yo I hope it's enough info haha

I hope im not late

Take care :3

You got…Hantengu!

Honestly, your punk style looked very scary to him at first, you seemed like someone who would intimidate others or be generally unkind, but he was very surprised when you just called out to him asking if he needed help because he was shaking.

Later he found out in the late night you thought he was a lost old man, and not a demon, but the kindness of the action was still very touching after the many decades he had faced being 'attacked' by everyone around him.

You are very rough around the edges, but Hantengu appreciates that it isn't most often towards him. Even after you found out he was a demon, you seemed to just think it was cool more than bothersome and continued hanging around him when he wasn't on a mission.

It didn't take long to meet his clones, of which were far more akin to you. Karaku thought your style was 'sick as fuck' and would probably steal a spiked collar from you. Urogi enjoys your jokes and dark humour, which he shares very deeply and will sometimes get into contests with you about who can make the darkest joke.

Sekido and you tend to sit in deafening silence until he tries to speak which usually ends with you mocking him and him taking it seriously and ending up in a heated debate with you. He thinks you are very passionate, and on a few times has actually lost to you.

Aizetsu is much like Hantengu in that he appreciates when you stand up for him when the other clones poke at him, though he has gotten sombre if you ever aim your harsh words at him, he knows you don't mean it and tries to poke back the best he can.

They have all the time in the world to give you, and you can expect large cuddle piles with the group. You won't see the clones often, but Hantengu makes sure to take good care of you in their absence.

Authors Note - Hantengu is one of those characters I have a hard time matching people up with, btu when I read yours I knew INSTANTLY so I hope that says something! I get sad because I like Hantengu and his clones but so many ppl leave to ol;d guy out so I hope you like him as I do :[ Thank you for requesting!

[delicatebluebirdruins]

if I ever say that RE9 should be about people other than Mia and Rose taking down the connections assume I'm sick... or kidnapped or hacked

apparently some people some where debated if village (youtuber called Darkness mentioned it in one of his RE4 livestreams i think it was the first PS5 video he did or the 2nd not sure i could google it but I am tired of seeing people hate on ethan and mia) was going to be revelations 3 instead of village and considering we had the connections in 7 and then they were randomly dropped for the lords? and the possible origins of umbrella?

its the Winters saga resident evil comes in threes 1-3 static 4-6 more action orientated and genre whiplash at times so to say Shadows of Rose is the end of their story with Rose getting to know her powers and her fucking dad when its 7, 8 and dlc is rubbish and i don't believe a word of it

ramble under the cut but it kinda falls with RE9

I'm still on this train of Evie was very powerful, they knew she was easily made unstable (dire state of affairs "w/o the treatments she's deteriotating") they were moving her to keep her safe from competitiors/ bsaa. So why did they only send two (2) people? like I know they wanted to be under the raidar but again only two? and those two people only knew enough to make the serum for themselves or others? but not the treaments to actually prevent Evie going off the rails?

the more i think about the more sure I am that Evie getting out on the ship was a godsend to the connections to see how their weapon does in conditions of no control (I am only lowkey joking when I say that someone working for them was eating popcorn saying oh no someone should have done something)

and then there's Lucas and who he was on the phone with because he was sendning them some data and had already been in contact with them because he betrayed the connections and he was made lead of the dulvey kru (he was under no desire to take out Evie despite being given the tool to do so its a file in not a hero called the eveline observation log)

[pelicanoctopus]

During a conversation with my partner a while ago, I compared different social media sites to different bodies of water, and the concept has been stuck in my head ever since. I need to write it out to move on, so, here goes:

The basic premise of the metaphor is that the "water" in each of these bodies of water (websites) = the thoughts and feelings people share on there. This is materially distinct from Content, which, depending on the nature of said Content, can be carried by the water, or sink beneath it, or be destroyed by it, or be dissolved into it.

The universal constant, here, is that if something goes into the water, whether it's Content or an actual person, it's going to get wet. If you put anything - works of art, advertisements, memes, dad jokes, research papers, newspaper articles - out into a social media website, people are going to have thoughts and feelings about it. The effect these thoughts and feelings will have on the Content itself is entirely dependent on the nature of said Content, just as an actual literal body of water will have different effects on a glass bottle than it will on a plastic bottle, or a milk carton, or a loaf of bread.

Likewise, the effect that visiting any given social media website will have on particular people varies widely, based on things like age, media literacy, familiarity with the platform, and past trauma, as well as more variable factors like whether the person in question has had enough food and rest lately. Some people only ever swim in swimming pools. Some people do open water triathlons. But even people who are trained in open water swimming know it can be dangerously overwhelming if they are tired, or sick, or injured.

With me so far? Okay. Moving on to the rest of the metaphor - the actual bodies of water (websites) themselves:

Twitter (I refuse to call it X): used to be a really nice river full of wildlife and other interesting things to look at. The water was pretty nice to swim in, though if you spent too long in the water, swimming against the strong current would exhaust even the strongest swimmers. Now? The whole place is so polluted and full of actual garbage that it makes me sad to even look at it, so I don't. Most of the cool people I used to spend time with at the river have stopped visiting. I worry about the health of people who still have to navigate the river as part of their job, and I am extremely judgemental of people who still choose to swim in it out of their own free will.

Facebook: an extremely overdeveloped river with boardwalks down the entire length of it. It's polluted, but only with the kind of pollution that's hard to see, because the businesses along the riverwalk won't tolerate garbage piling up. It's not really a river for swimming in, and if you try to swim anyway, people will think you're weird. I don't really have much reason to go there for my own sake, but I have friends and relatives who I can only see if I go there, so I visit sometimes and don't complain about the rotting-fish-and-petrochemical smell while I'm there, because it's not like the people I'm visiting have any control over that.

Cohost (in my experience so far): a pretty normal river, though it's not as deep or as wide as the rivers I'm used to. It's small enough that people debate about whether it's even a river at all, or just a creek. The smaller size is a good thing; if I can see the bottom, I'm not as likely to slip and fall all the way in when I was only trying to wade around a bit.

Tumblr: some kind of very very deep caldera lake. Pretty scenery and neat birds exist in abundance, but unless you go to the lake with people you already know, it can feel kind of lonely. Creatures that live nowhere else in the entire world live in the deepest parts of this lake. There are piles of rocks all over the shoreline, and I'm never sure if I'm supposed to leave them standing or knock them over.

Discord: a directory of backyard pools. Some are open to the public, but most of them are private. Some are big, some are small. Some are nice in-ground installations, and some came out of a box. Some have pleasant landscaping around them, and some are surrounded only by concrete, or gravel. Some are lovingly maintained. Some are only cleaned up when the owners are about to have a party. Others are never cleaned at all, and have become objectively disgusting. It all depends on which pool you visit, and whose backyard it's in.

Reddit: the ocean. It's so vast that it is impossible to visit every part of it in one lifetime. Truly bizarre things wash up on the shore all the time. The water is kind of nasty in most places, but let's be honest: most people don't go to the beach to swim, they go to the beach to be at the beach. Great for people-watching, even if people-watching at most beaches does wind up making you despair for humanity in general.

[ultimateloserboy]

what ??? the fuck??? are you literally talking about?????? how the fuck am i acephohic now im literally demi???? WHERE DID I BRING UP CLOTHING????

dude youre reaching soooo hard its insane. most of what youre saying i literally never said. at all. i never brought up clothes, i went out of my way to say nobody was a zoo or something and yet youre still saying i compared it even tho i literally WENT OUT OF MY WAY TO CLARIFY I DIDNT MEAN THAT !! BECAUSE I DISAGREE AND THINK THATS CRAZY TO SAY!!!

i genuinely dont understand what youre talking about dude. im not joking i actually do not know how you got any of this. my post wasnt written the best but a lot of the stuff youre saying i never said or even implied?

what youre accusing me of saying is making me genuinely sick to my stomach. “you wouldnt be saying this if he talked” dude thats vile???? what the fuck?? again, why are you trying to make me ableist??

did you take this all as a personal attack? you know this wasnt about you right? at all? i dont even know you?? “i was like him once” ok?? but youre not though, so me talking about him doesnt mean im talking about you!

i tried to hear you out because, again, if you read my replies youd see i was calming down and talking to people and having a discussion— but since you dont want to do that ill leave this off here!

that post was never meant to be about the fandom individually or people with crushes or whatever the fuck— it was about sellout game devs and actual weirdos intruding on every space. it was never meant to be a personal attack on random people, but now it is so!

this might sound very mean, and in your own words, “you can block me i dont care” but youre an online titty baby who wants to make everything about yourself!! you want to call me a vile, ableist, acephobic monster over fucking BATIM?? Go fuck yourself.

Go tell your mommy you won the online fight over the kids mascot horror game! im sure she’ll give you a star sticker and hang your accusations of ableism on the fridge! you must be real fucking fun to talk to!!!! i hope nobody gets upset about something around you, because lord knows little jimmys gonna take it personally!! fucking king of debate club over here folks!!

leave me the fuck alone now, please! genuinely! im genuinely sorry for being so harsh in my og post, but that doesnt excuse anything you fucking said about or to me!!

i really hate talking to any individual person like this but god, man! fuck you!! i was just upset and now im suddenly all this fucked up shit!!!

ok you know what im gonna say it with my full chest. literally nobody talks about bendy (the character) like who he actually is and ive been tired of it since the old game ended. i think hes genuinely one of the most incorrectly fanonized characters like ever at this point. and i genuinely believe it changed the actual canon and it bothers me a lot.

as for the physical version of him/ the ink demon— in the original batim game there was literally a whole plot point about bendy being non-human and how he came out of the machine physically and mentally sloppy compared to the other creations. hes not a fully fledged-out person and that’s LITERALLY an entire section of the original game. he has no human soul or mind, hes sentient but about as much as a gorilla. he attacks like a zombie or an animal with instinct and not like an angry human being. he cant speak because his mouth is fake and he cant walk properly because his limbs are liquid sludge— hes literally an abomination— a mockery of actual human life. its crazy to even call him the “villain” of the story because he doesnt have the thinking ability to genuinely be malicious. its like calling zombies the villains of zombie movies, they cant be because they dont have the brain function to be.

a lot of people ignored the obvious fact that he isnt human-like so they could sexualize him, which isnt as bad as sexualizing an actual animal— im not claiming that— but what bothers me is how the creators made him MORE HUMAN to lean towards these people and ill never think otherwise. yall can argue with me or call me chronically online, but bendy WASNT able to speak or was human-like at all until the dark revival, which was so obviously fan service its not even funny.

im not claiming that people who sexualize bendy are zoos or something— thats too far. what im claiming tho is that this genuinely interesting character was given consciousness and the ability to speak after previously not ever having those things JUST so booktok ass teenagers could swoon over him like they do venom, taking away the interest of his original character. he wasnt fully sentient until it made money for the creators and then suddenly hes speaking poetry in a deep sexy man voice with a fucking 8 pack. how does that not bother anyone? im not even trying to say its morally weird— im just saying its bad writing in general!!! like why do yall let these games ruin characters for fan service and not even give a fuck, and then have the balls to ask why newer ones are so poorly written?? no fucking shot EVERY one of yall was ok with them retconning his entire existence like HES THE MAIN CHARACTER???? DO YALL REALLY WANNA SEXUALIZE EVERYTHING //THAT// BAD TO THE POINT ITS OK TO REWRITE THE ENTIRE MAIN CHARACTER AS LONG AS IT MEANS YOU CAN FINALLY SEXUALIZE HIM CANONICALLY??????

and before people say anything— no i dont think its wrong for bendy to develop a voice or to become more human over time— BUT COME ON DUDE ARE YALL DENSE?? IVE SEEN LESS FAN-SERVICE STARING AT MY GOD DAMN AIR CONDITIONER!!!! they didnt “develop” bendy more— they retconned him to please freaks online!!! surely ONE of yall had to have noticed like… when tdr dropped the sexualization was so bad i genuinely didnt have fun with the series anymore. and I CANT because its justified now! the creators retconned him to be more sexyman so now you cant even argue against it!! literally why cant we have ONE thing online without people wanting to pound every single fucking character??

im sorry if this sounds mean but ive been upset about this for YEARS!! bendy was my favorite character as a kid and NOBODY gives him justice NOT EVEN HIS OWN CREATORS. it would be one thing if there was just a small portion that treated him like this but now its literally everyone and the games lean into it and i just want to explode and die at this point fr.

it genuinely makes me a little ill knowing he was once just a confused, soulless being fighting and killing out of the confusion, rage and fear that his cruel existence caused him to feel, but now hes just a deep voiced venom-ripoff villain whose just a big meanie and hunts you for sport or some stupid shit.

[waitimcomingtoo]

Evans

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Synopsis: Tom gets jealous after he witnesses a moment between you and Chris Evans

Masterlist

As much as you loved filming the movies, your favorite part about being in the MCU was going to the conventions.

You loved getting on stage with your cast mates and answering questions. You especially loved when you got to attend the conventions with your best friend Tom. Your fondest memories with him were made during nights following a convention. You’d always get a joint hotel room and stay up late, too buzzed on adrenaline from the panel to fall asleep.

Going to conventions with Tom usually opened up a whole new debate on the nature of your relationship. Snap chats and Instagram stories made from the same hotel room always set off more theories that you were dating. You weren’t, but you didn’t mind the theories.

The current panel you were at was no different from the others. The whole cast stood in a line, with you sandwiched between Tom and Mackie. You listened along to all the questions asked until you heard your name.

“Chris, you and Y/n worked together in the past on Scott Pilgrim vs The World, where you played one of her evil ex boyfriends.” The journalist said to Chris Evans. “How did you react when you heard she was joining the MCU cast?

“I was really happy about it.” Chris said into his mic. “I’ll admit, I had a bit of a crush on Y/n when we were filming Scott Pilgrim so I was very excited when she got added to the cast.”

Tom felt his ears turn pink when he heard Chris’s confession. It was no secret that he liked you, but he had no idea Chris liked you too. He looked to you to see your reaction, mouth going dry when he saw the shocked smile on your face.

“Are you serious?” You laughed in surprise. “I had a crush on you too.”

Tom turned away a little, suddenly feeling a sick feeling in his stomach. He didn’t like where this conversation was going.

“What?” He raised his eyebrows. “How did I not know?”

“Because I was awkward and shy and didn’t know how to talk to you.” You said sheepishly as you pressed a cold hand to your face. “But I swear, I told Michael and Anna all about it.”

Tom lowered his microphone so the crowd couldn’t hear him gulp. He didn’t know why it bothered him as much as it did to know you and Chris had feelings for each other. You had filmed Scott Pilgrim a few years back, so the feelings were long gone by now. Still, it sent a white hot jealously through Toms veins as he watched you and Chris smile at each other.

“I can’t believe you never told me.” Chris chuckled. “I actually remember being upset that we didn’t have a kiss in the movie. I was like, how am I playing one of her boyfriends but we don’t get to kiss?”

“Aw.” Tom forced a laugh. “Poor you.”

The audience laughed at his joke, but you never took your eyes off Chris.

“I was genuinely upset about it at the time.” Chris continued. “I think I called my mom to complain.”

Tom watched with a tight jaw as you held your hand over your heart and beamed. You were obviously loving the attention from Chris while Tom was hating it.

“Hey, I didn’t write the script.” You shrugged. “I definitely would’ve thrown one in there if I had.”

“I think the movie is perfect as it is.” Tom cut in, earning a few laughs. “I don’t think there needed to be a kiss. Kisses are stupid anyway.”

“Wait a minute, we almost kissed in the last movie too.” Chris remembered. “To like hide our faces from HYDRA agents or something.”

“That’s right.” You gasped. “They took it out before we ever shot it.”

“Such a shame.” Chris clicked his tongue as he shook his head. “Missed you twice now.”

The reaction from the audience made you hide your face in embarrassment, feeling your face hot to the touch.

“I promise, you’re not missing much.” You laughed shyly.

“Yeah, well.” Chris rubbed the back of his neck. “I bet I was.”

Just when Tom thought it couldn’t get any worse, he saw an idea pop into your head.

“Wait, hold my mic.” You said as you handed your microphone to Anthony.

Tom could only watch as you walked across the stage and put your hands on either side of Chris’s face before pulling him into a kiss. The audience was deafening as Chris kissed you back. It didn’t last long, but it was long enough to make all the color drain from Toms face. You both pulled away laughing, Chris with his signature hand over his left side. You clapped your hands as you laughed before walking back to your spot.

“Well damn.” Anthony said into his microphone. “I didn’t get to kiss her either.”

“Yeah.” Sebastian teased. “Do we all get some of that?”

“Shut up.” You laughed shyly as you fixed your hair. “There. Now you got your kiss.”

“Thank you.” Chris laughed into his microphone. “I was not expecting that.”

“Neither was I.” Tom mumbled, his microphone hanging limply at his side. The rest of the panel went by without any further flirtations, but Tom wouldn’t have known if there had been. He had completely zoned out, too upset with what he had seen to focus.

~

You unlocked the door to your shared hotel room and saw Tom sitting at the kitchen table. His face was buried in his phone and he skimmed through the endless amount of tweets about the kiss from earlier. It was only making him more angry to see thousands of gifs and pictures of it, as well as all the messages from fans saying what a cute couple you and Chris made, but he couldn’t stop. He was too busy scrolling to hear you come in.

“Hey.” You smiled at him as you set your stuff down. “You did such a good job out there. I swear, you always get the most laughs. It’s not fair.”

“Hm.” Tom nodded, keeping his eyes on his phone. “Thanks.”

“Is everything okay?” You frowned when you noticed his standoffish behavior. You walked over to him and reached out to touch him, but he moved away.

“Yeah.” He shrugged unconvincingly. “It’s fine. We’re fine.”

“I didn’t ask if we were fine.” You furrowed your eyebrows. “Are we not fine?”

“I said we were fine.” He held up his hands in annoyance. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Okay.” You rolled your eyes a little. “Sorry I asked.”

Tom gave you a sarcastic smile and went back to his phone, completely ignoring you now. You didn’t know what his problem was, but you knew you didn’t want to fight.

“Do you want to watch a movie or something? You can pick this time.” You offered, trying to offer an olive branch.

“Actually, I’m kinda tired.” He said faintly. “I think I’m just gonna turn in.”

“Really? It’s so early.” You checked your phone and saw it was only 8 pm. “And I’m bored.”

“Yeah?” He finally looked up at you. “Then why don’t you go see what Evans is up to? I’m sure he’d love to finish what you started on stage today.”

You jutted your head back in surprise, not expecting that to come out of his mouth. He looked partial to guilty for snapping at you, but his anger was the most prominent emotion.

“What?” You laughed in shock. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about you kissing Evans in front of all those people.” He snapped. “I didn’t even know you liked him like that.”

You laughed again, thinking he had to be joking. You never said it out loud, but you assumed Tom knew you liked him. After all, you were the only cast mates sharing a hotel room.

“I don’t.” You said, unsure where that accusation came from.

“Yeah?” He cocked his head. “Cause it kinda looked like you did.”

“I don’t.” You repeated. “I used to when we were filming Scott Pilgrim a few years ago but I stopped before we even wrapped.”

“Then why did you kiss him?” Tom asked, his voice wearing thin.

“I don’t know. We were joking around.” You shrugged it off. “It was for the fans, if anything. You know how much they love that stuff.”

“They would’ve loved it just as much if you had just blown him a kiss.” Tom said. “You didn’t have to kiss him.”

“Who cares?” You asked. “Everyone loved it.”

“Not everyone.” He stated, keeping his eyes on the ground. You looked at him for a moment, realizing you had never seen him act like this.

“Why are you getting so upset about this?” You asked calmly, still not understanding.

“Because what you did upset me.” He shouted as he gestured to himself.

“Why?” You raised your voice as well now. “It was just a stupid joke. It had nothing to do with you.”

“It wasn’t a joke to me.” He shook his head. “Watching you practically run across the stage to kiss him in front of all those people was not a joke.”

“I didn’t run across the stage.” You said, starting to get annoyed. “I walked to him and kissed him. That’s it. It’s not a big deal.”

“Did you like it?” He asked with an unreadable expression.

“What?”

“Did you like kissing him?” He repeated as he let out a shaky breath.

“You know how it feels to kiss other actors.” You shrugged. “It just felt like lips on lips.”

“You must have some sort of feelings for him to kiss him like that.” He said, his eyes looking glassy.

“So what if I do?” You retorted, angry with him now for yelling at you.

“What?” His voice came out in a whisper. “Do you?”

“Are you listening to anything I’m saying? I don’t have feelings for Evans. But if I did, it wouldn’t be any of your business. Because maybe you haven’t realized this yet, but you’re not my boyfriend.” You yelled, making him retreat into himself.

The silence that followed was deafening, making you feel guilty for what you said. You felt like you popped the happy bubble that you and Tom lived in, the one where you never confronted your feelings for each other but understood that they were there. Tom sucked in a sharp breath and let out a long sigh as he looked you in the eyes. He gave you a sad smile and nodded his head as if he was reluctantly agreeing with you. You opened your mouth to speak, but Tom was already moving past you. His shoulder brushed yours as he walked out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

You stood there in shock, unsure of what just happened. You felt like you had just broken up with someone you were never actually with. You covered your mouth with your hand, ashamed with what you had said to him. You hit him where you knew it would hurt him and now he was gone.

~

Despite sharing a hotel room, you didn’t see Tom until the next morning. He was eating breakfast at the kitchen counter, not looking at you as you made coffee. You sighed and sat down next to him, knowing you had to make things right before you went out to do press. You didn’t want to spend a full day doing interviews with him without resolving the fight.

“I’m sorry I yelled at you yesterday.” You began as you watched his face for his reaction. “It was mean of me to tell you you weren’t my boyfriend like that.”

“It’s okay.” He mumbled as he stirred his tea. “You don’t have to apologize. You were right. I’m not your boyfriend.”

“We need to talk about yesterday.” You said softly as you looked at him. You could tell he was still bitter about the kiss.

“I don’t want-“

“We have to.” You cut him off. “We had a fight and now we need to talk about it.”

He sighed and rubbed his eyes before slumping in his seat.

“You start.” You said as you put your folded hands on the table.

“I don’t know where to start.” He mumbled.

“Just tell me how you feel.” You suggested. Tom sighed as he put his words together in his mind, wanting to make things right just as much as you did.

“I didn’t like it even you kissed Chris.” He said softly, keeping his eyes on the table.

“I got that part.” You tried to joke. “Why?”

“Because he’s older and taller and bigger than me.” Tom listed off.

“And?” You were confused.

“And I can’t compete.” Tom whispered, hanging his head in shame. The fragility in his voice made your heart break and you realized he was never angry with you.

He was heartbroken.

“Tommy, you don’t have to compete with anyone.” You said softly as you stroked his cheek with your thumb.

“I didn’t think I had to.” He continued. “I thought I had you. I know we don’t really talk about…us, but I thought we had an unspoken agreement that we liked each other. I know I liked you and I thought you liked me back until you…”

“Until I what?” You asked.

“Kissed another boy.” He laughed sadly. “Sorry. A man. Captain freaking America.”

“You were jealous.” You realized, trying to fight back a smile. “That’s why you threw your little tantrum.”

“How could I not be?” He looked up. “Have you seen how broad his shoulders are?”

You had to laugh, which made him crack a smile. The tension had disappeared and you had entered new territory, so you decided to keep going.

“And have you seen the way I look at you?” You teased him. “Or the way I immediately go to you in a crowded room? Have you seen how I’m always finding a way to touch you? Does any of that sound familiar?”

“Yeah.” Tom smiled sheepishly. “It does.”

“I like you too.” You admitted. “Of course I like you too. But I already told you, that kiss was just a joke. It was just for the fans.”

“I know.” He sighed and rubbed his face. “It just shook my confidence, you know? I figured if he wanted you too, I didn’t stand a chance.”

“I don’t want him.” You assured him. “I want you.”

Toms lips curved into a smile, a proud look coming across his face. He reached over and put his hand on top of yours, rubbing small circles with his thumb.

“I never should have yelled at you.” He said quietly as he stared at your hands. “I just hated that he got to kiss you before I did.”

“I get that.” You nodded. “But you can’t flip out and yell at me when you get a little jealous. You have to be okay with me being close to other people.”

“I know. I’m sorry that I got so jealous.” He shook his head at himself. “I’m not that guy. I don’t want you thinking that’s who I am.”

“I know who you are.” You leaned over the table and tilted his chin so he would look at you. “Why do you think I like you as much as I do?”

“I like hearing you say that.” He mumbled, keeping his eyes on your lips.

“I like saying it.” You smirked at him as you began to lean in.

Before your lips could touch, his phone buzzed, making both of you jump. Tom sighed and picked up his phone to see what the interruption was.

“Shoot. That’s Rachel.” He frowned. “She wants me down at hair and makeup. Can we talk about this later? This is really important to me and I don’t want to rush it.”

“Of course.” You nodded. “Go get your hair done. We’ll talk later.”

Tom gave you an apologetic smile before getting up and putting his cup in the sink. He moved to the door but you stood up.

“Tom, wait.” You called, quickly walking to where he was. You put your hands on his shoulders and pressed a kiss to his cheek, letting it linger until you felt his cheeks heat up.

“I’ll see you soon, okay?” You told him, making him feel better about missing out on the kiss. He smiled softly and nodded before leaving the hotel room. You left to get your own hair and makeup done, an idea forming in your mind as you sat in your chair.

~

After getting hair and makeup done, you walked down to the lobby and went into one of the conference rooms. You saw the rest of the cast standing in a circle and went up to to them.

“There she is.” Anthony clapped as you walked up to the group. “Mrs. Evans.”

“Don’t start with that. You’re just mad it wasn’t you I was kissing out there.” You teased him, making him laugh.

“Maybe. I have a feeling I know who else is mad.” He said as he nodded his head to gesture to something behind you. You turned around and saw Tom approaching, a smile taking over your features at the sight of him. He gave you a knowing look and stood next to you as he joined the group.

“Hey guys.” He greeted, shooting Chris a quick look.

“There you are.” You smiled a little before grabbing him by the shirt and pulling him into a kiss. You felt his wide eyes flutter shut, eyelashes tickling you as he closed his eyes. He stepped forward to get closer to you before bringing his hand to face. The cast exchanged knowing looks right before you pulled away, a smile on both of your faces.

“Woah. When did that happen?” Scarlett nudged you.

“I thought it’d been happening for a while.” Anthony snorted. “Was I the only one?”

“No, I definitely saw something there. That’s why I was so surprised about yesterday.” Chris chuckled. You felt Tom tense up when he mentioned it, so you gave him a look. He relaxed and nodded, reminding himself he had nothing to be jealous of.

“I was surprised too.” He said, keeping his tone playful. “So don’t let it happen again.”

“I won’t.” Chris held up his hands. “Dodger and I are very happen on our own. He’s not willing to share me with anyone.”

“He and I have that in common then.” Tom said as draped his arm around your shoulders.

“Whats that?” You asked as you looked at Tom. He gave you a soft smile before pulling you closer to kiss your forehead.

“I don’t like to share.”

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[oopsimbug]

in which... y/n is just trying to put on eyeliner and harry is bored pt. two

a/n: when she’s back from a six month hiatus after making only ONE fic. wow, do i suck. for anyone who cares, school has been pretty rough. i’m actually procrastinating studying for an exam to finally upload this. it’s been pretty hard to balance both school and writing but oh well. anywho, here it finally is. it took so long to write because i wasn’t feeling very inspired by this. a lot of people asked for a part two and even though i kinda wanted to leave it on a sad note, i am a sucker for giving the people what they want, so sorry if this is a bit shit- i definitely don’t like this one myself. i guess i’m not one for fluffy endings. well, at least for this one i wasn’t. i really hope you enjoy it! more stuff to come, if school doesn’t mind fucking off for a little while (or maybe just forever?) xox -(a) bug

pairing: best friend! harry styles x reader

summary: Harry is worried about Y/n. Y/n is worried about Harry. Harry is solving it by thinking of ways to check on her, while Y/n uses cheesy pasta and the Fresh Prince of Bel Air as an excuse to not think. But what will happen when someone is at her door, and it’s not her delivery man?

warnings: angst, swearing, y/n and harry being idiotos, fluffy end, kissing

word count: 5.3k

It had been a week.

One gruelling, painfully long week.

Harry was biting his nails, staring up at the ceiling as he laid in his bed, worrying about her.

About how he fucked up.

He didn’t think that she would be upset for this long. He thought she would scream at him and then text him the following day, wanting to hang out- a silent “I forgive you”, he supposed.

But after two days of radio silence on her end, he decided to call her. The only problem was that her last words to him were “leave”. She wanted space. She needed to think things through- what things? Harry had no clue. But he had to respect her and her choice to not want him around. So with that, he put down the phone.

But a small part of him (okay fine, a big part of him), wanted her to just show up at his house so they could cuddle again, talking about the stupidest of things while they made cupcakes in his kitchen. They would be listening to groovy music and now and then, they’d stop mixing bowls and sifting flour to dance- well, they were horrible dancers, so more so just wave their hands, hips and shoulders around. It would be fun and would always end up with them laughing at one another. He would lick the batter and she would berate him, telling him that “one of these days, you are going to get salmonella and I’ll just laugh at your stupid ass” and he would retort with something witty and a bit flirty like “don’t worry darling, we both know you would be right at my side if I got sick. I know you can’t stand being apart from me” with a wink and a cheeky smirk. He just wants to see her in her oversized Space Jam hoodie and little basketball shorts. Or her short flower shirt and his sweatpants that she has to cuff at the bottoms because they’re too long. Or even-

He’s gotta stop thinking about her, or his brain will soon explode. But he just can’t stop. He tries to think of the happier moments, like her showing him a tour of her very healthy houseplants that she prides herself in, but every time he closes his eyes, all he can see is her teary face telling him to leave. So no, if he was given the choice to think of her flailing her arms around in his kitchen to dancehall tunes while making sweet treats or crying at something that he provoked, you bet your ass he’d choose the former.

But after the seventh day, he knew that something wasn’t right. This was too much “thinking time”. For all he knew, she could be fine, but she could also be positively bawling. She could be living for this free time, but she also could be waiting for him to make the first move. She could be wanting Harry out of her life for her benefit forever, but she also could be feeling lonely and counting the seconds for their makeup, just like he was.

That was it. He had to go see her and make sure his best friend was okay.

He practised what he was going to say to her in his car on the way to her apartment. “Y/n, I’m so sorry for how I acted. I didn’t stop to think about how you were feeling and didn’t take your emotions into account which was unbelievably wrong of me. I’m truly sorry. It’s just that I really care about you and you’re my best friend and I can’t see you choose a tinder fuck over me and if I saw him in the street I would knock his lights out and I just want to kiss you, can I kiss you, oh god please let me kiss you I just want to-“

Fuck, what was wrong with him? Why was he so upset? He had been on plenty of dates with other celebrities and models and she was always on the sidelines, cheering him on. So why was he getting so touchy-feely about a single tinder date? Maybe he was just in desperate need of attention. He hadn’t had a girlfriend for almost one year and casual fuck arounds also stopped about four months ago, so maybe he just needed to fuck someone quick. That would explain why he sees his best friend’s kindness and natural flirty nature as something more romantic. Every laugh at his jokes, every look in her eyes, every graze of her hand on his thighs as she leans over him to get her drink on the side table next to him, he becomes more switched on and awake. She leaves him feeling giddy and excited at every conversation. “This can’t just be because I’m horny right?” he cannot believe he would ever be that horny. What the hell was he going to do?

*

This is pathetic she thought.

I’m pathetic.

She let out a huge sigh before shoving another forkful of cheesy pasta into her mouth.

What am I doing?

The answer?

Eating carbs upon carbs upon carbs, lounging on her comfy sofa in the most comfortable, yet daggiest pair of pyjamas ever while watching reruns of The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air for the fiftieth time, actively avoiding all commitments, housework and jobs that involve moving further than to the kitchen, which even then was an embarrassingly burdening trek on its own.

But she let it slide. How could she not? She was upset and this was how she coped. That’s what she kept reminding herself as she boiled more and more pasta watching the days pass her by without realisation, but now, she’s beginning to question if this was the best idea. Pushing all thoughts of him out of her mind by not looking at her phone just in case he called or texted. But she was beginning to struggle.

It wasn’t his fault. He didn’t know what inner turmoil she was facing. He seemed genuinely hurt when she snapped at him. He truly didn’t understand why she took so much offence to the playground ribbing, it seemed. And she had to go be a dick and ignore him. He was probably worried sick. How many times would he have called to check up on her? 10? 15? The more she thought about it, the more she wanted this stupid feud to be over and just be in his arms again, even if it’s just as a friend. So she caved. Turned on her phone, expecting there to be at least a call or a text asking if she was still alive or not. And although she did receive a message of that likeness, it wasn’t from Harry, no. It was from her daily water tracking app, pleading her to fill in her daily intake of water so as to not die of dehydration after she was suspected to have not drunk any for the entire week when in reality, she was just too in her head to open her stupid phone and log her water.

Wow, she thought.

Now not only has Harry chosen to not speak to you, but you also look like a huge idiot right now. Of course, he wouldn’t want to talk to you! You got pissed at him for absolutely no reason and now he hates you. He’s gonna ask for his cardigan and track pants that he keeps at your house in case he wanted to sleepover. He’s going to take back all of his little knick-knacks that he leaves over, like the cute diffuser that he leaves because he knows you need it for your constant hay-fever that blocks your nose and then he’s going to declare that you aren’t friends anymore and then you will never get the chance to tell him how you feel and then-

Her panicky brooding is interrupted by a knock on the door.

“Who the hell could that be?”, she thinks. It was too late for it to be the postman with her package containing her entire Amazon wish list that she bought on the third day of mourning to make herself feel better. But it couldn’t be Mrs Xiao asking her if she had any holes in her shirts that needed stitching. The sweet old lady fell asleep at 8:37 pm sharp after her medicine that she’d take at 8:30 pm would kick in (which she learnt after spending nights over at her apartment where her niece, Mei, took care of her. Y/n would learn traditional recipes like baozi and watch movies with her two friends all the time). It couldn’t be Mei either, she was always in online uni lectures from 8:30-10:30 pm, locked away in her little study, so as to not bother or be bothered. So now, a little panicked, Y/n wondered who was truly at her door?

Another two knocks come, echoing off the walls of her little apartment as she turns down the volume of the program she was watching. She stares at the door from her couch, debating whether she should risk getting stabbed by a possible murderer or not, before ultimately deciding that life was too short. She was also getting sick and tired of the knocks that kept arriving in threes. She swings her legs off the couch and onto the floor, pushing them into her slippers so that her feet wouldn’t touch the cold floor, waddling her way to the door before shyly opening it, peeking at who it could be through the tiny crack in the opening, hoping whoever it was wouldn’t mind her current state: belly filled with pasta, hair knotty, giant shirt with sweatpants on and Harry’s patchwork cardigan hanging off her shoulders- which she had been wearing all day, cherishing the pretty piece of clothing and his scent imbedded in it, taking it all in just in case he asks for it back. She peeps at the torso of this mystery person, realising that Harry owns the jumper worn by them, before looking up and locking eyes with a worn out and tired eyed Harry, one hand in the pocket of the familiar hoodie and another extended out near the door, ready to knock again before freezing when it opens up all the way to show herself to her best friend. He doesn’t eye her up and down cheekily like he normally does when she is wearing pyjamas, wolf-whistling at her relaxed state, claiming that “You look runway-ready, my love! Do a twirl for the crowd, will you?”. Instead, he stares her right in the eyes with what looks like almost relief, before smiling a weak and broken smile.

One of them needed to break the silence or both would have just stared at each other in her doorway until the world exploded. So she starts.

“Hi.” her voice hovers a tinge above a whisper, almost as though if she dared to speak louder, this probable illusion of the one she loves would fade away. He lights up a little bit, probably relieved that she started the conversation.

“Hey,” his soft voice matched her volume and tone as if he too didn’t want this to be a dream. “May I come in?” The words sound awkward to her coming out of his mouth. Harry never had to ask for permission to be invited in- he usually just strolled in without so much as a holler to indicate he was present, finding amusement in scaring her instead while she was doing whatever she was doing, whether that be reading, watching a movie, cooking or napping. They were the best of friends and never had to inquire about entry to each other’s domains, along with other small things like if they had anything in their kitchens to eat or if they could sit somewhere, so hearing it was a little disheartening and provoked Y/n to think about how serious this situation was.

“Okay”, she replied after the pause of contemplation, opening the door fully so that the lanky boy could follow along behind her, like a little puppy. She didn’t like how awkward the situation was. She just wanted things to go back to what they were.

But then you wouldn’t be able to tell him you love him... her inner voice argued. And she agreed. She knew that yes, this will be awkward, but it’s an opportunity for him to listen to her and know that she isn’t joking.

“Would you like some tea?” She enquires. They’ll need to handle this like proper grown-ups (which in all honesty, isn’t their dynamic- it’s more like first-year uni students who are mature enough to have deep conversations but still laugh at dad jokes and anything remotely serious, like a painting with boobs), and from what she knows, or has seen in movies when the characters are being serious, is that you need tea or a drink of that sort and a sit down on the couch where you talk stuff out. So that’s exactly what she does.

“Yes please,” Harry’s soft voice replies as he toes off his boots that most definitely cost more than her apartment. Y/n nods and heads to the small kitchenette and flips the switch on the electric kettle before going into her cupboard that housed the mugs. Harry stood awkwardly near the sofas, and to save him the embarrassment of waiting while standing, Y/n invites him to sit with a small, “You can take a seat,” and a quick glance at him before returning her gaze to the mugs to make herself look busy. She didn’t want to look him in the eyes for more than three seconds in fear of bursting into tears and the worn out and tired sight of him. She shakes the thought out of her head and begins to prepare the mugs.

Y/n put two teabags in her mug while putting one in Harry’s. She was raised in a household of avid tea drinkers and she inherited her strong tea quirk from her father who would always keep two teabags with only a dash of milk, and the only difference between her tea and her fathers was that Y/n wasn’t strong enough to take her tea without sugar, unlike her father, who thought that drinking unbelievably concentrated leaf juice with milk was a fun and relaxing time. On the other hand, Harry liked to keep one tea bag in his mug while he drank it, but just like her father, he too took little to no sugar with his cup, being the health freak he was. And early in their friendship, when she mentioned it to him, Harry chuckled and chirped, “Your father is a smart man. He has to be for raising amazing and talented people like your siblings. I’m not sure what went wrong with you though...” while booping her nose as they laid together under a tree for a little picnic. And though she rolled her eyes at him and punched his shoulder for the sly dig at her, she was practically beaming at the fact that he thought her family was smart. Harry had no idea how much that meant to her. Y/n loved her entire family, and she was unbelievably close to them, so it made her entire week to know that Harry, someone she respected and loved so much, recognised how talented and smart each of her family members were. Don’t get her wrong, she didn’t need the validation to know that her family was amazing, but she felt so special knowing he took the time to notice. He did that a lot though. Doing things that meant a lot to her without batting an eye. Saying things that only a person as observant as he could notice, like complimenting her eye colour in the light and asking her to read for him because he constantly mentions how much he loves her voice.

Y/n looked over to the same sweet guy she fell head over heels for, who was sitting on her couch, fidgety as ever, and wondered if they would ever be the same after the very next moments to come. She didn’t want things to change between them, but she was dying inside knowing that he wasn’t hers. And getting over him was not in the question, after the fiasco that happened last week. She just wished she could get inside his head to sate her painful curiosity.

What is he thinking about?

**

What is she thinking about?

It’s the million-dollar question running through his mind. What was she pondering over as she made them tea? Did she want to talk to him? Was she mad that it took him so long to find the balls to face her? Was she as nervous as he was? Was she worried that they would never be the same again like he was?

He was going into panic mode, questioning everything, while probably looking stupid as ever. As much as he regretted how awkward things were now, and the fact that he instigated her to lash out at him a week ago, he was realising that he was not regretting the fact that he did it. He didn’t want her to go out with someone else, and she didn’t. And yes, of course, he feels bad-beyond bad, in fact- for making her cry, and wishes he could take it all back, he also sees this as an opportunity to tell her how he feels about her. He could finally tell her that he thinks about her all the time. About her soft smile, her bright eyes, her melodic laugh, her speaking voice that brings butterflies to his stomach. He could tell her about how he loses himself at work, the grocery store, fuck- even at events- thinking about what she was doing at her house. Was she under her blankets on her couch, watching some corny tv show? Was she baking her signature choc chip cookies that taste like the gods blessed every single biscuit on the tray before they were put in the oven? Was she knitting her cat, Chesnut, another rug to plonk herself down on, with her feet up on the ottoman as she listened to the 7 o’clock news on the radio? Was she writing a paper for another deadline? Something so sophisticated, like the exploration of white and male privilege and how it is ingrained in our society? Something that Harry tried to understand and research so that he could stay in the loop with his smart girl’s interests, but he always struggled with.

It was a huge insecurity of his. Not that his best friend was smarter than he was, no way. He treasured the fact that she could and would whip his ass at a debate on things like the state of the world, or human rights. She could school him on global politics, languages, maths, science, history and literally anything else, and he would be cheering her on. What he was insecure about was her realising that he was probably slowing her down in life. Y/n was well within her rights to kick him out of her life for being nothing but a freeloader and stopping her from reaching her full potential, what with him constantly stopping her from her own life to help him go through shit happening in his. Whenever he was sad, or confused, or upset, Y/n was the first person he would talk to and he feared that she would realise that he was probably taking advantage of her and stop talking to him. And that scared him. It scared him because he knew that she didn't need him at all, but he needed her to do anything in life. Every major and minor decision in his life has been approved by Y/n first, and not because she was a controlling friend who didn’t trust him with his own life, but because Harry needed her validation. Harry Styles, a world-famous superstar, had girls, guys and non-binaries at his feet, following his every beck and call. Harry Styles, who was on the cover of every magazine, known by every celebrity, dated only the most perfect of women, required validation from Y/n, a psychology major at a small university. Y/n, who liked to plan her day out on a to-do list, end up not doing anything on that to-do list and cry about it afterwards. Y/n, who breaks it down to “Murder She Wrote” by Chaka Demus & Pliers like it’s her last 4 minutes and 5 seconds alive on this Earth while making pancakes. Y/n, who cries more when she’s laughing while watching Tik Toks than she does during sad movies.

To celebrities, Y/n was nothing but a regular. But to Harry, she was all. She was the warmth of a sweater that you toss in the dryer for a few minutes to make it extra toasty. She was the pad of butter that you spread onto your pumpkin sourdough toast and it ends up being exactly the amount you wanted. She was the feeling when you are driving home from a long day of interviews and premiers, and you’re on the freeway and the windows down and you just… exist. She is the feeling you get when you watch Pride and Prejudice, and the relief of when you find the perfect word to end a lyric. She is when your shoes fit perfectly, and when you finish a book so utterly fulfilling that you lie there in a trance, looking up at your ceiling at 3 am, wondering how you could have been so lucky to be able to be blessed with an ending like the one you just read. Y/n was all those things and more.

And that’s why he had to tell her he loved her. No matter how scared he was.

***

The electric kettle is finished boiling the tea all too quickly as the bubbling comes to an end and the distinct click of the switch turning back off echoes around the silent apartment. Y/n had poured the scalding hot water into the two cups she had prepared stared into them.

It was time. She had tried to avoid this for as long as possible, but now it was the moment to face the music. She picked up the two mugs of tea and brought them to her lounge where Harry was sitting on her worn in green sofa, staring at her coffee table, eyebrows scrunched, pouted lips, deep in thought, before looking up at her with wide green eyes, and followed her to where she stood in front of him. She passed his mug to him before sitting on the comfy chair a few feet away from the sofa and from him, putting some distance in between them for her sake, so that she wouldn’t try to hug him and say sorry without saying what she needed to say first. Which she needed to start talking about now, so as not to sit in the awkward silence created by the two.

Say something!!

“So…’

Jesus fuck…. was that all you could think of? Wow. I am going to lose my best friend.

Y/n was choking.

“I am so sorry,” Harry’s voice intercepts, raspy from the lack of use, looking up from the coffee table he seemed so interested in. “I am so fucking sorry Y/n. I have no excuse as to why I was making fun of you that day. I pushed too far and I am a shit friend for not noticing that you were already on edge. It was so wrong of me and I am so sorry.” He stopped himself before he started to ramble, looking at her with eyes filled with an emotion she couldn’t decipher.

Y/n felt… unsatisfied. Why did she feel this way? He apologised, right? So why does she feel unfulfilled? Why does she want him to say more? He hit all of the points he had to for a standard apology, so why did she think he hadn’t done enough? Was it that little optimist in her brain hoping he would maybe reveal a slight attraction to her? Maybe tell her that he loves her, and has loved her forever and ever? Confess that she has bewitched him, body and soul so that she didn’t have to? God, was she an idiot. But a lovestruck idiot at that. She bites her tongue and replies.

“Harry, I forgive you. Although you were annoying as ever,” She rolls her eyes and smirks, while he lets out a breathy, half-assed chuckle, showing his acknowledgement at her attempt to ease the lowered yet still prevalent tension. She continues. “ I understand that you were just trying to have fun. I guess I was the one who irrationally lashed out . I am always okay with you poking fun at me, but I was just frustrated and tired and I took it out on you. I’m sorry for the improper communication and I’m sorry for pushing you away when we should’ve just talked…”

“I forgive you too. I think this was just miscommunication on both parts.” He stared into her eyes, almost as if he could sense the discontent in her, but chose to ignore it.

“I guess so.” She halfheartedly answered, not really knowing where to take the conversation next. They had both apologised, but evidently still had things to say. Well, Y/n had things to say, that’s for sure, but she was pretty sure that Harry wanted to say something too. He had that look on his face where he wanted to say something but was forcing himself not to.

What does he want to say? Why can’t he say it to my face? I mean, sure, I’m also hiding shit I wanna say, but I have an excuse. This could ruin our friendship. What does he have to say?

“Great,” Harry replies, trying to fill the awkward pauses and conversation that is being held. He still looked like he had something to say, but seemed like he was not budging.

Well, if he’s not saying anything, I’m not either. Why do I have to confess my feelings and put our friendship on the line if he isn’t even going to say what’s on his mind?

“So, are we good?”

“I don’t know. Are we? I mean, I forgive you and you forgive me, right?”

“Right… No yeah, we’re alright. We’re completely fine!” Y/n replies quickly. Why the fuck would you say that? You’re not fine.

There is a pregnant pause and Y/n has half a better mind to just get up, walk to the bathroom again with her head down and lock herself in there till he leaves again, because she cannot take this awkward conversation. Not with him. She shifts, ready to stand up to get some water, when Harry looks at her, confusion and slight panic setting into his face.

“Wait. I don’t think I’m fine…” She looks up at the boy sitting in front of her, reading the words from her mind like they were scribed on a piece of paper in the blackest of ink, permanent and bold. Her heart stuttered. What else did he want?

“Is everything okay, H?” she tentatively asks. He loses eye contact with her, gaze lowering towards the table in front of him

“I-” he pauses, trying to collect his thoughts while simultaneously trying to explain to her why he wasn’t okay. “I just- fuck” his head falls down, his face inches away from the hot tea in his hands, the humid steam billowing out of the mug and warming his elegant face as he takes a deep breath and tries once more to convey his thoughts. “I don’t want us to be friends again.”

Her heart stops. This could go one of two ways. He could either be confessing his hatred or his adoration for her, and either one would probably end with her imploding. She tries to take a neutral tone when she replies.

“What does that mean, H?”

He looks at her once more. “It’s not enough, Y/n... “

“What?” She is confused. Her friendship isn’t enough? How is she supposed to reply to that?

“I want more. I don’t want us to just be friends. I want to be more with you. I want to do more with you. I want to do things that friends… they shouldn’t do together…”

Is he trying to confess he likes her? Why, in all the ways you could speak, would he choose to speak like that?! She has had enough of him dawdling around his feelings. “Harry, stop being cryptic and fucking tell me what’s going on?!”

“I love you, Y/n! I fucking love you, Y/n. So much. And it is eating me from the inside out. I hate that we can’t be normal anymore, and I hate that you don’t love me the way I love you, but I cannot sit here and pretend everything is fine, because I love you.”

Y/n is stunned. Frozen in her spot. Can’t move, can’t speak, can’t breathe. Stuck in space, and stuck in time.

Holy fucking shit… he loves me…

While Y/n processes the life changing knowledge that her best friend loves her, her best friend conveniently sits next to her, wishing that he was dead for the letdown he was about to receive.

“Say something… please, for the love of God, say something!”

****

She looks up at Harry. Not Harry Styles, playboy, whore, singer, millionaire, but instead; Harry, her best friend of five years, reddened face out of embarrassment. She sees the mortality in his eyes. Feels his presence so heavily in the moment. She is in awe. True awe of him, and his ability to love her. And with that awe- and that stupid look on her face, she reaches up and cradles his face in her hands, brushing her thumbs softly over his plush pink lips. He stands just as still as her, barely breathing, as if it would shatter the fantasy to stardust and he would wake up in his bed, cold shivers running down his spine, as has happened previously whenever he thought of this moment, staring up at his ceiling at 3:40AM wondering why he thought of his best friend in such a way. She creeped closer to his face before stopping a breath away from him, and whispered.

“Is this okay?”

She looked into his eyes, and he looked into hers, both never feeling so alive before. He wishes to tell her that she needn’t ask for his permission, and that he wants to kiss her forever. Eternally locked in an embrace that holds their souls together. But all he can muster is a weak and broken whisper back.

“Please,”

She can hold it for no longer, and leans in the rest of the way, their lips moulding together, for the very first time, eyes fluttering close, as his hands reach to grab her by the hips to straddle him, deepening the kiss even further. And when they part for breath, panting for air with slightly moist lips, they touch foreheads, eyes still closed. Words needn’t be exchanged- everything that yearned to be said was useless, as it could never describe how they truly felt for each other. So hopelessly besotted with one another, that all they could do was breathe together before kissing once more, hoping that their actions could provide even an iota of an idea of how much they love one another.

Two best friends, turned lovers forevermore.

[allywritesforfun]

{Behind the Glasses} c!Eret x Fem!Reader

summary: you are about to get married to Eret, but you still don't know what he's trying to hide from you. you have to find out before you commit

pronouns: she/her

word count: 1569

trigger warning: kind of angsty

masterlist

The days in the castle were always fun. Eret was a great king and to be honest, he didn't do much except build. No one really needed his help and he tried to stay out of every fight on the server after his betrayal.

Shortly after he became King, you two met. It was really a ‘love at first sight’ moment. You just knew that you had to go talk to him. And now here you are, years later as his Queen in waiting.

Today was an alright day. You and Eret didn't do much except walk around, sit by the lake, and you did do a little cleaning. It was night time now. You started the fireplace while he got into his night wear.

“Eret, love,” You called out. “Are you hungry or anything? I can make some potatoes.”

Eret appeared from the hallway, “No, I’m alright. I should be able to make it through the night. I think I just wanna stay in here and snuggle.”

You smiled, “Okay, I like the sound of that.”

Eret brought in a blanket and a few pillows and placed them on the ground. You ended up pushing them a little further back to make sure that they didn't catch on fire. You were always nervous about fires and explosions. The server was so unpredictable in nature. You always feared of messing up. If something ever got destroyed or broken while you were just with Eret, everyone would accuse you of being a traitor. And you couldn't blame. If you were anyone else you would think the same.

Eret noticed a while back how careful you were. Almost everything that you did outside was staged. The people had no reason to trust you. You don't have any huge or interesting backstory. You just kinda joined and started living your life. You could understand why they might’ve thought that you were strange and wanted to avoid you. 

You trusted Eret with your life. You knew that he was ready to burn empires to the ground if they tried to hurt you. But you never really knew much about Eret. Well you knew a lot, but it all came from stories of others, not himself. You tried not to look too far into it, but it lurked in the back of your mind.

Eret sat down next to you, getting as close as possible that he could without squishing you. He took his cape and placed it over both of your shoulders.

You two stared at the fire. You always wondered how it looked to him. Those glasses are all darkened out. If you couldn't see into them, how was he supposed to see out?

“You know we’re inside right?” You asked.

Eret awkwardly chuckled, “Well yeah, we’ve been inside for a while now.”

“There’s no sun in here,” You pointed out. “You can take off those glasses.”

He backed away from you, “Absolutely not.”

No one has ever told you why he wears the glasses 24/7. It was frustrating to you. Whenever you tried to ask him about it, he would distance himself and go all quiet for the rest of the day. You tried asking other people, but they never told you anything. ‘It’s just best if he tells you,’ they all would say.

You were sick of being denied. You had to know. And it was going to be today whether he liked it or not. You guys are gonna get married soon. You had to know every part of him before you could make the full commitment.

“Eret,” You lowered your voice. “It feels like everyone else knows about the glasses except me. No one will tell me what they’re about. It's not fair. I’m supposed to be the one that knows everything about you, but people know secrets about you that I don't know.”

“Good,” Eret said. “They listen to orders well.”

“What?”

“You heard me,” Eret told you. “I told them not to tell you otherwise there would be a punishment.”

You looked at him astonished. You always felt like an outsider. You assumed it was because of Eret and people just didn't want to get close to you, but it wasn't about that. You could have friends right now if it wasn't for Eret. You could belong to something more than the throne, “You’re joking right?”

Eret shook his head, “It's better this way.”

“No, it's not,” You argued. “I have no friends. I have you and that's all. I could be living an actual life right now, but no. You had to go threaten the people for what? For glasses? That's ridiculous.”

You stood up and started pacing around. When you're mad you pace, it was the best way to get your energy out in a nonviolent way.

“Sit back down,” Eret urged. “Just don't worry about it. Come here and snuggle.”

You shook your head, at this point you couldn't even look at him, “No, I'm leaving.”

“Leaving?” Eret repeated. “Don't leave. It's not that big of a deal. I won't keep them on forever.”

“Not a big deal?” You asked. “It's big enough of a deal to threaten everyone! To isolate me!”

“I didn’t think people would avoid you!” Eret stood up. “I really didn't mean for that to happen, that was a consequence. I’m really sorry about that, I really am.”

“Tell me what the glasses are for. You take them off when I’m asleep and when you know you’re going to be alone, that’s it. Tell me what they’re hiding.”

He shook his head, “I-I ca-”

You cut him off, “Then we’re done. If I don't know who you are, then I can't trust you. And if you can't trust me to know, then it's not worth it.”

Eret tried to walk closer to you but you backed away, “Don't do this.”

You nodded, “I'm knowing right now or I’m leaving the Greater SMP all together. You won't see me ever again.”

Eret shook his head. He went quiet for a couple seconds debating, “Okay. But there’s all a purpose to this okay? It doesn't affect my person at all. I'm still who I am, alright?”

You nodded, “Go on then.”

He looked at you and placed his fingers to them, he didn't move. He roughly pulled his hand away from them, “I won't let you put mirrors in here for a reason you know.”

You nodded, “Yeah, at first you didn’t want to see yourself after the betrayal. You couldn't even look at yourself. Now that I’m here you don't want me to get in my head about how I look.”

He nodded, “All of that is true. But these glasses, they hide a part of me that I don't wanna remember existed. That's the deeper reason why I won't have mirrors in here. I scare people, and sometimes I scare myself.”

You were beyond confused at this point, “Just tell me, Eret. It's alright.”

“Just don't be scared,” He begged. “Just give me a minute after to compose myself. You’re the first person to see this part of me.”

You nodded, “I'm not leaving.”

Eret took a deep breath and slowly took them off. He was right, you were scared at first, but you did your best to hide it. You froze up. His eyes, pure white looking back at you. You stood confused and panicked. You kept in mind what he said about giving him a minute. You slowly walked towards him, holding your hand out. He gently took it, pulling you closer.

“Your eyes,” You started, “I mean-obviously your eyes, but. How did this happen?”

“I was born with it,” He whispered. “I don't know much about them at all. I just know that he has them.”

You hugged Eret. You could feel that he was weak just from talking about it.

He continued on, “I’m nothing like him. I-I promise. I don't wanna hurt anyone. The betrayal... “

You cut him off. You noticed that he never said his name. You could feel that he was disappointed in himself since he was born and learned about him, “The betrayal was something that you were tricked into doing. Dream took advantage of that. L’manberg doesn’t matter anymore. It's blown up by its own founder. Really, don't worry about it. No one cares anymore.”

“I hurt people. Got them killed,” Eret said, laying his head on your shoulder.

“It’s okay, Eret,” You pulled away to look at him and smiled. “They are quite pretty, you know.”

He shook his head, “Don't flatter me. You can't even tell where I’m looking.”

You laughed, “That just makes you more interesting. I love them.”

“You’re not scared of me?”

“No,” You replied. “I have no reason to be. You haven't done a thing to me or anyone to make anyone think that you would ever come close to doing what he does. Just relax okay? Thank you for telling me. I understand if you want to wear them ins-”

“I don't want to,” He happily said. “Everything is so dark, there’s no vibrancy.” He leaned in closer to you, rubbing your cheek with his hand. “Like your eyes, they have color. Like I never got to see them because you were either sleeping or these damn glasses.”

You smiled, “Then keep them off, you look beautiful.”

[troubatrain]

truth or dare - m. barzal

a/n: so @dembenchboys​ sent me an ask about how they wanted me to write a fic about Mat eating you out for the first time and then I absolutely ran with it. So happy Saturday here’s some straight up filth that i wrote in like a night (which I haven’t been able to do in forever so that’s exciting!!)

Your roommate’s boyfriend was an absolute idiot. Anthony was about half a bottle of wine deep, his cheeks red while tears were practically streaming down his face from laughter. He barged into your apartment a few hours ago, Mat in tow, ruining your girl’s night in with Zoe. Mat was apologetic, lounging on the couch in sweats shaking his head at Anthony who didn’t take your hints that they should leave.

“I just think we should play truth or dare if it's a girl's night,” Anthony argues, waving the glass of rose he was drinking around your couch, Zoe grabbing his hand to stop him from spilling it.

“I just think you’re an idiot,” You snap back, rolling your eyes at Zoe who was trying to tame her getting-drunker-by-the-minute boyfriend.

“I’ll play,” Mat sighs, sipping his beer and sitting up from the otherside of the couch.

“I thought you were on my side here,” You tap Mat in the arm, reminding him of the secret alliance you’d made a few weeks prior.

It was silly, but after Anthony and Zoe left you with Mat in a bar, Mat was pissed. Not at you, which he made clear after he told you about fifteen times he was mad at his teammate. But, he was so upset that Anthony invited you both out but couldn’t even bother to offer you a ride home. You told him it was fine, because most of the time Anthony was actually really kind to you, but Mat didn’t believe it. After he’d driven you home, Mat made a joke about how if you were both constantly forced to third wheel your friends, you could at least have each other's backs.

“I am,” Mat assures you, waving his hand at you and leaving over to whisper to you, “Sometimes it’s just easier to let him win.”

“I’ll play one round,” You sigh, Mat’s landing on your thigh to give it a squeeze, “Don’t get too excited.”

“I am excited,” Anthony cheers, an app with a bunch of random truth or dares literally open on his phone already, “You’re going first Y/N - truth or dare?” “Truth,” You sigh, leaning back into the couch. You hear a chorus of boo’s from everyone else at your answer, “Do you want me to play or not?”

“You’re so lame,” Anthony hollers, dragging out his words, tapping his phone to shuffle a truth question, “Oh this is a good one, tell the story of the best orgasm you ever had.”

Zoe’s eyes went wide, looking at you while you choked on your drink. It wasn’t a sensitive topic, the whole never having an orgasm thing, but it definitely wasn’t something you wanted to talk about with Zoe’s drunk ass boyfriend and his insanely handsome teammate. Your past boyfriends hadn’t always been great, and considering not one of them had ever gone down on you, it wasn’t surprised you’d never had someone get you off. You could feel the heat rush to your cheeks and before a lie could come to mind, Anthony already had you read.

“You’ve never had an orgasm,” Anthony accuses, a confused look on his face. You gave it away, nodding your head and not even daring to turn to look at Mat who was sitting next to you, “Oh my-” “Beau,” Zoe stops him, grabbing his arm to remind him to be nice with whatever thing he had to say next.

“How?” Anthony asks, his jaw still practically hitting the floor, “What kind of douchebags are you dating? Or is it-” “Tito, no one’s ever gone down on me and I’ve never had an orgasm,” You start to explain, anger boiling in you that you had to explain yourself at all, “You know what? I’m going.”

You get up, grabbing your glass and a few empty plates that were littering the coffee table. You heard Anthony call your name, probably to apologize for striking a nerve, but you ignored him. You were moving around the kitchen frantically, cleaning to try and distract yourself from your own emotions. You just didn’t want to talk about it, talking about your sex life just wasn’t something you did often. You hear a few footsteps in the kitchen and you turn around quickly to spot Mat was leaning against the counter waiting for you to turn off the sick.

“Zoe drove Tito home,” Mat sighs, getting up and gently turning the knob to turn off the sink, “And I’m sorry he’s a dick.” “It’s not your fault Mat,” You take a deep breath, not breaking eye contact with the plate that was in your hand, “I shouldn’t have gotten so upset with him.”

“No you should have, he shouldn’t have questioned you,” Mat argues back, “It’s okay you know, by the way.”

“I don’t need validation from you about my lack of sexual experience just because you get laid all the time Mat,” You remind him, finally looking up at the apologetic man in front of you. Mat’s eyes were soft, with a smile that matched when you finally looked at him, “It could be just me.” “Or it’s whatever losers you’re dating who won’t go down on a girl,” Mat scoffs, running a hand through his hair. His mind had been blown from the second he realized why you didn’t answer Anthony’s question. But, Mat could believe never having an orgasm, but never having someone go down on you - that should have been a crime, “I bet I could get you off.”

“My first orgasm isn’t some prize Mat,” You say, walking past Mat to open your fridge and pull out the bottle of wine you’d opened a few hours ago.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Mat rushes out, trying to fix his mistake. He looks panicked for a moment, like the gears in his head were turning. He took a few steps forward boldly, taking the bottle out of your hand and pushing you against the counter, “I just mean I could take care of you if you’ll let me.”

Mat’s large hands were gripping your waist, and you could feel yourself practically melting under his touch. You look straight at his chest, watching the chain peeking out from under his hoodie shine against the fluorescent lighting in your kitchen. You knew you breathing was heavy, and you bit your lip debating it for just a moment. Mat was a good guy, and you were sure no one would ever  find out about this if you asked him to keep it quiet, “I’m not a pity fuck.”

“You were wearing blue the first time I met you,” Mat whispers, his lips ghosting overs, “I remember that because the first time I saw you I walked over to flirt with you and then Tito introduced us.”

You smile at the memory, the light blue top you were wearing was one of your favorites. It was the end of the summer, and you were holding onto the last few moments of warm weather before fall hit New York. Zoe dragged you out that night, insisting you met her new boyfriend and a few of his friends. You remember meeting Mat that night, but you didn’t know what his actual intentions in talking to you were, “Why didn’t you do anything about it?”

“Tito really likes Zoe, I didn’t want to make things weird,” Mat laughs, his eyes flicking down to your lips that were barely an inch away from his. You lean forward, throwing caution to the win and placing your lips on Mat’s. He smiled against your lips, grabbing your thighs and wrapping your legs around his waist.

“Please make me cum,” You breathe out, leaving a trail of kisses down Mat’s jaw while you directed him to your bedroom. He drops you on the bed, pulling his hoodie off and tossing it aside. You bit your lip, eyes raking over every muscle on Mat’s body that was drool worthy.

“You can stop me whenever you want,” Mat assures you, climbing on top of you and pulling you in for a kiss. Mat bit down on your lip gently, smirking when he heard a moan slip through your lips, “I could kiss you all day.”

“I assumed you’d get to it by now,” You admit, knowing everyone man you’d ever been with would have thrown foreplay out the door by now. Mat laughed against your neck, taking a break from the mark he was intent on leaving.

“This is why you’ve never had an orgasm,” Mat chuckles, picking his head up to look you in the eyes, “I’m taking my time with you.”

You smile, pulling Mat back down by his chain to meet his lips to yours. Mat’s hand snuck under your shirt, waiting for you to nod and give him permission before he tossed the t-shirt behind him, groaning when he realized you weren’t wearing anything underneath it. Mat pressed a kiss to your neck, making his way down between yours breasts. His tongue swirled your nipple, hands moving down your body to pull your shorts off. You arch your back, letting out a whimper when you felt Mat’s teeth against your skin. Mat kissed down your body, stopping when his lips hit just above your panties. He looked up at you, waiting for the green light to take them off.

“Go ahead Mat,” You breathe out, the anticipation practically killing you. Mat slipped his fingers under your panties, sliding them down your legs and throwing them to the side. He presses a few kisses to the inside of your thighs. You bite your lip, the sight of anyone between your thighs was new, let alone Mat. A whimper left your mouth when you felt Mat’s lips just above your clit, hot breath fanning over your pussy.

“You’re sure about this babe?” Mat asks one more time, a cautious tone to his phone. Something in your gut told you he was never this gentle, but the way he was handling you was just too sweet. You nod, watching while Mat flicked your clit gently, afraid if he went too hard too fast you’d either go into shock or you’d be too turned off to get you there. His tongue went flat, licking a stripe down your folds and teasing your entrance. Your hands landed in Mat’s hair, pulling on them gently while a moan slipped through your lips, “You like that?”

“Yes,” You whimper, a feeling you couldn’t quite describe overtaking your body. Sex never felt this good, because no one you’d ever been was bothered to pay attention to your body. Mat smirks, clearly pleased with himself for figuring out exactly what made you tick. He tossed your thighs over his shoulders, his tongue moving faster on your pussy while his nose was rubbing against your clit. You could feel it, the build up from pleasure while your moans became the only sound in your bedroom, “Mat, fuck, I think I’m going to-”

You didn’t even finish your sentence before your legs began to shake as your orgasm took over your body. Mat was gentle, his mouth still on you while you rode out your high, but not enough to overstimulate you just yet. You laid there for a minute, Mat pressing kisses into your stomach while you caught your breath. Even you could read the smile on his face, one that was clearly satisfied with the victory of finally getting you to cum, “You did so good baby.”

You could feel the heat rush to your cheeks at Mat’s praise, something you were quickly learning you really loved to hear, “Do it again.”

Mat smiles against your skin, a light laugh leaving his lips, “How?”

“With your fingers,” You whisper, biting your lip and looking down at Mat’s hands that were still wrapped around your thighs. Mat nods, freeing his grip on your thighs with one hand and letting his finger trace your folds, collecting the cum from the first time. He swipes it with his finger, sucking your cum right off it.

“You taste so fucking good,” Mat admits, and you let a breathy moan as a response. Mat’s eyebrows raise, “Do you like when I praise you?”

You nod quickly, pulling Mat up to meet your lips. Mat kisses were slow, but his finger that was slipping in you wasn’t. His thumb circled your clit while he caught your moans with his mouth, “Two.”

“Give a girl one orgasm and she’s already this demanding,” Mat jokes, tucking his head into your neck while he slipped another one of his long fingers in your, “You’re taking my fingers so well princess.”

“I’m going to cum again Mat,” You moan, your hips lifting off your mattress while Mat’s fingers move relentlessly in and out of you. Your hips sputtered, your legs shaking at the pleasure of your high. Mat finally slips them out, pressing a kiss to your forehead with a muttered good girl that left a chill up your spine. You looked down, the bulge in Mat’s gray sweats was prominent, a part of you almost felt guilty for leaving him high and dry like that, “Mat let me-”

“No,” Mat grabs your hand, entwining it with his and pulling it up to his mouth, “You don’t owe me anything.”

“What if I want you to fuck me?” You bat your eyelashes, trying to muster up the sexiest face you could while Mat’s brain short circuited from your question.

“You don’t have to get me off,” Mat makes his point clear, driving home the whole notion that he doesn’t want to push you into an uncomfortable situation, “I can do it myself and-”

Your free hand makes it way down Mat’s chest, running your fingers over his abs and stopping at the waistband on his sweats, “Mat Barzal I want you to fuck me.”

“Fuck,” Mat breathes out, watching you pull down his sweats and boxers in one motion, his cock springing freely from his pants. He’d been turned on from the moment he stepped in your bedroom, the idea of getting you off for the first time was just too hot for him to handle. You pumped his cock a few times, letting the precum on his dick spread. You rolled over, opening your drawer and fishing for a condom that you were thanking your lucky stars was actually in there. Mat grabs it, ripping the plastic open and rolling the condom onto his dick while you lightly rubbed your clit in anticipation, “You look so fucking perfect right now.”

“Mat please,” You whimper, a bold statement considering you’d never been one to be vocal in the bedroom about anything. Mat rubbed the head of his cock against you, slowly entering you.

“You’re so fucking tight,” Mat groans, the feeling of your pussy around his cock lived in his wildest fantasies, ones that he stored in the back of his mind so he could get through hanging out with you without getting a boner. Mat bottomed out, giving you a few minutes to adjust to how big he was. You whispered a small go against his shoulder, your lips against his skin while Mat pulled his hips back and started a slow pace in you. You gripped his shoulders, digging your nails into the muscles on his back. Mat looked down at you, pushing your hair out of your face and pressing his lips against your forehead, “I think my cock was made for you babe.”

“Harder Mat,” You moan, the same feeling you got the first two times building up inside of you. Mat took the hint, his hand snaking down your body and rubbing his thumb against your clit while he picked up his own pace. Your pussy flutters around him, and you ride out of your high while Mat tries to chase his own. His movements became erratic and with a loud groan he spilled into the condom.

The room was quiet, Mat laying on top of you while you both tried to catch your breath. You traced your finger down Mat’s back, “That was something.”

“Glad I could be your first, second, and third orgasm,” Mat chuckles, finally slipping out of you and tossing the condom in the garbage. He disappeared for a moment, coming back with a warm towel to clean you up. You winced at the contact, “I know you’re still sensitive babe but you’ve got to let me take care of you.”

Mat’s words were gentle, followed by a kiss on the inside of your thigh before he got up to collect his clothes that were thrown across your room, “I don’t want to go but-”

“I know Barz,” You laugh, knowing full well he had a morning skate the next day that if he was late for Trotz would have his ass, “You don’t have to explain yourself.”

“Listen, next time you're out with someone I can send him notes on how to get you off,” Mat jokes, throwing his hoodie back on and pressing a kiss to your forehead, “Or we can save the middleman and you can let me take you out.”

“Well I guess cutting out the middleman would be best,” You giggle, feeling Mat’s lips turn into a smile.

“So Saturday?”

“It’s a date Barz.”

[otp-holic]

Will this be the night? (ALSO IN A03)

A random piece of online advertising unleashes some movie memories of a Summer afternoon in 1932

1.5 Ks Fanfic + Pictures Inside. Part of the Never let us lose what we have gained series (AO3) Silly drabble born from my love of classic movies... that ended up not having anything to do with classic movies.

BROOKLYN'S KING'S THEATRE

Poster for Cary Grant's Retrospective. Printed paper 2025.

A poster for the upcoming month long celebration of the movies of Cary Grant to be held in Brooklyn.

Bucky is not expecting a vivid memory of the past to jump at him from a piece of online location-targeted promotion popping on his phone as he and Steve are wandering around the neighborhood on a random Friday.

But the 21st century works in mysterious ways and Google is kindly inviting him to check “Cary Grant: A Celebration”, a month-long chronological retrospective of all his movies taking place at a nearby hipster cinema starting… in half an hour.

He beams as a long string of memories of the both of them in different afternoons and movies plays in his head; how they counted the cents for the admission price, and how Bucky learned to sneak into the movie every time that did not add up to two full tickets.

“Buck, you’ve been smiling at your phone in silence for a whole minute,” Steve interrupts his daydreaming. “Should I be jealous? Worried?”

“Sorry,” he answers, still smiling about the memories. “I think I’m leaving you for Google, they see inside my one hundred years old soul; But I might give you another chance if you don’t mind a change of plans for the afternoon.”

“Lead the way, but can you give me some heads up?” Steve chuckles, more than used to Bucky’s ways.

He takes Steve’s hand to direct them towards the movie theatre and thinks about how much information he wants to share.

Although he is the one who still relies on the comfort of 30s and 40s movies whereas Steve keeps getting bolder with his options, Steve has always loved Cary Grant and Bucky thinks he’s going to appreciate his choice since this particular movie has a history (sad history, maybe) for them, so he debates on whether to tell him or not.

“We are going to the movies. But the real ones, not that shit on Netflix you keep choosing,” he settles for half-disclosure.

“Damn, mister life in black and white strikes again. Embrace the 21st century, Barnes, I think you’ll like it!”, Steve laughs.

“Hey, I embrace it more than you do! At least I look the part of a mid-thirties man from it instead of a fifty-year-old hiding in fucking khakis. Albeit a very hot one, I’ll give you that.”

They both laugh. It’s not the first time these remarks fly between them and having a routine, running jokes, and running pet peeves is very soothing after everything they have gone through.

They’re getting closer to the cinema now, and Bucky can already see the Billboard announcing the retrospective and a small queue forming upfront. He takes a side look at Steve to see if he has noticed and he can certainly tell that his curiosity has peaked.

“Surprise! Call it a win-win, it might be up my alley, but you used to love Cary Grant movies,” Bucky smiles as they reach their place in the queue and glance at the program for the afternoon.

‘This is the Night (1932)’, the poster says, ‘Cary Grant's feature film debut on the big screen’

Bucky is deep in nostalgia, remembering a summer day of 32 when they were waiting in line for the same film and how the evening turned out, but when he looks in search of his partner’s reaction, it’s not what he expected at all.

“Steve, you ok?” he asks, worried at seeing Steve frozen in place.

Steve nods. His whole face is deep red, but at least he is responsive. He looks ashamed and Bucky is shifting from worried to curious.

“Jesus, this movie,…” he chuckles now.

“You seem to remember, then. I thought you might.”

It was not a happy memory: Steve had felt really ill halfway through, looking white as a sheet of paper and about to die on Bucky. They had to leave the unfinished movie and run home, as per Steve’s request. But as far as Bucky remembers, nothing to be ashamed of.

“Why are you acting weird? Oh my god, Steven, are you allergic to this movie?”

The silence before Steve answers is a little too long and the queue moves forward.

“Shit, this is not easy to say and I’m sorry in advance.”

“Duly noted, but could you try to explain? I’m lost and I didn’t expect a full-on confession of something to be sorry about when I decided to follow Google’s intelligent advice to an unfinished movie. I just thought it was a good excuse for a change of plans. And kind of closure.”

Steve takes a breath and starts talking.

“I wasn’t honest with you, Buck. Back then…” he stops, searching for words, nervously musing on his beard. “Ah, I cannot believe this hasn’t come up at some point, but there it goes. I absolutely lied to you that day: I wasn’t sick or half dying and I am very very guilty of using my poor health to run away from that place and that movie, but I did the only thingI could think of.”

Bucky is at a loss for words, he’s still deciding if he is angry, curious, or somewhere in between.

“But… but you were feverish and white as a ghost and you said you had palpitations!”

Steve seems to think for a moment again and the bastard laughs so loud they get a curious look from the people behind. And taking advantage of the queue moving up again, he gets really really close to Bucky who honestly thinks he’s going to try to kiss himself out of the situation since it’s a bulletproof strategy.

But he doesn’t: He goes for Bucky’s ear instead, and whispers.

“I had a boner like you wouldn’t believe.”

Bucky gasps loudly totally taken aback while Steve takes a step back and looks at him in the eye more amused and hungry than ashamed, but still blushing.

“But hey, not all lies! I was somehow sick. And pale since my blood was… otherwise occupied. And I was barely 14!”

Bucky laughs at the dork. His dork. But the information is still making its way into his brain.

“Oh my God,” he exclaims as it starts to settle, “You piece of shit, you pulled the poor sick child card when you were just plain horny. I was worried to my bones as we run to your home. Shame on you Rogers!”

“Me? It was your fucking fault! Yours and Cary Grant’s and your stupid grins and stupid chins, those clefts!” he’s screaming in whispers so Steve Rogers’ teenage boner doesn’t make it to the news, but he’s talking as if he was pronouncing an important speech to the UN, “What was a 14-year-old in the fucking 30s popping one upon seeing an actor who kind of looked like a very tall version of his very male best friend to do?”

He is about to say something, but Steve literally covers his mouth with one hand giving Bucky no other option but to stick his tongue and lick the palm.

“Gross, Buck. I’m not done!”, he dries his hand on Buckys’ shirt before he goes on. “I’m not done because as I was still processing all that, you kept brushing your goddamned hand with mine when you went for popcorn! Over and over and over. It was torture. I have palpitations now just thinking about it.”

Bucky full-on laughs. One of those real ones that come more and more lately and that he honestly thought he would never get to experience again.

They have reached the box office, so he doesn’t push it further. For now.

“Two tickets for `This is the Night´, please.” Bucky smiles at the box-office guy. “He is paying, tho. I paid last time we tried to see this one and he didn’t have the decency to stay until the end.”

He actually feels like a teen as Steve takes his hand into the theatre, as he very intentionally buys popcorn to share, and as they start full-on making out on their seats during the commercials once the lights are out.

“Wanna know another secret, Buck?” Steve whispers a few minutes later, eyes on the starting movie as he brushes Bucky’s hand with intention over the popcorn bucket. His flustered face and recently kissed lips bathed by dancing lights and shadows coming from the screen. “It’s a good thing we were already together in ‘38 when “Bringing up baby” came out because I was able to plan ahead and lure you into that memorable window fuck at our old apartment before the show, or we would have totally missed one of our favorite movies, too.”

Bucky hates Steve with the force of the universe. Or maybe not, but he’s not playing clean.

“Raincheck on the movie?” he manages to whisper back as he drives Steve’s hand to his already noticeable hard-on. Two can play this game.

“Oh, poor Buck. Do you have palpitations” Steve chuckles, lips wet on Bucky’s ear and gripping harder on his bulge instead of letting go. “Was that the memory of the window fuck? Or all the making out? Tell me so I don’t do it again.”

“You are a punk, Steve Rogers,” Bucky answers before standing up to leave, closely followed by a smiling Steve.

Argh, sorry for deleting and uploading again, but i had technical issues with this.... so here it goes again. I need to free myself from this one!

[kerie-prince]

daisy cafe

Harry Potter x Muggle!reader

not a request

warnings: mentions of death, ptsd?? (in the form of nightmares)

summary: Harry starts his healing journey after the Battle, and a rainy night after a counseling session brought him into your café

a/n: hope y'all like this random imagine i wrote <3 i was meant to post it last night but i got into a heated debate about ww84 and i don't queue posts so here's this. no lie, i had a hard time writing this lol it's a whole 4k long imagine (whoops) also, when i say 'football' in this fic, i mean soccer lol

(gif cred)

The Battle of Hogwarts.

There was a lot to say about that day. So many perspectives and interpretations from different people. And today, Harry would talk to his counselor about his. At first, he opposed the idea of having a counselor but Hermione insisted that he talks to a professional. Well, insisted probably isn't the word. If anything, Hermione probably forced him into it and made the appointment herself.

So here he sat in the waiting room, sitting awkwardly in an uncomfortable chair. Even the chairs in the Hogwarts classrooms were more comfortable than these. The room was small and had tacky sunflower wallpaper. Harry sat by himself and internally cursed his best friends for just leaving him there and drove off. ‘Call me when it's over!’ Hermione had yelled out through the window.

“Mr. Harry Potter?” a young man called out for him. Harry followed him into the counselors office, noticing that the room was much nicer than the waiting room and the chairs looked more comfortable. And if he was going to be stuck here for over an hour, he better not walk out with back pain.

Harry sat patiently as he waited for the counselor to come. He noticed the golden name plate on the desk with a name written in black letters. Jon Osborne. Harry’s leg was unconsciously bouncing in rhythm with the ticking of the clock on the wall. He didn't think he'd be nervous about it as he was now. He immediately stood up as he heard Dr. Osborne come in. “Mr. Potter, it’s an honor to meet you,” he stretched his hand out to greet Harry.

“Pleasure’s all mine, sir,” Harry said with a shy smile. Once they sat down, Dr. Osborne went straight into it, “So tell me, Mr. Potter, how have you been?”

“Great. I've been busy planning a wedding,” Harry stated like it was a normal conversation. “Congratulations. Yours, I'm assuming?”

“No, it's for my two best mates,” Harry corrected. “They're getting married pretty soon and I offered to help pay for it. Not really doing much of decoration planning, Hermione thinks Ron and I would pick something stupid,” Harry wasn't looking at Dr. Osborne directly, but he had a faint smile as he explained the details. “And are you with anyone?” Dr. Osborne asked.

It made the young wizard think. Ron and Hermione were getting married, Neville and Luna were having fun on small dates, and Ginny was still going back and forth with Dean. “No, I'm not with anyone at the moment.”

His counselor wrote something down quickly before going forward with the next question. “Do you think about it often?” Harry knew what he was insinuating. His breath hitched a bit. Harry certainly didn’t expect to be asked this question so early on. From Hermione’s explanation, he wasn’t expecting to talk about the Battle for maybe another couple sessions. And that was if Harry even wanted to do other sessions.

“You don’t think you need to be here,” it was like he read Harry’s mind. And it was true. “Well, I do have a pretty solid support group. We all went through it together.” Harry rubbed the palms of his unusually sweaty hands against his pants.

“So because you and your friends went through it together, you're okay? Nothing about it bothers you?” had Dr. Osborne’s tone altered just a bit, he would've sounded condescending. He sounded a bit empathetic. It made Harry actually want to talk. “Do you and your friends actually talk about it?”

The answer was clear to Harry. No. If he was being honest, he didn't think there's even a reason to talk about it. The worst had been over, and now that him and his friends and family – and by family, he meant the Weasleys – were finally in peace, Harry figured that he wouldn't have to think about it again.

But the nightmares were relentless. It wasn't like the ones he had when Voldemort was in his mind and showing him things he wanted to show Harry. These nightmares were worse. They consisted of the worst that could have happened that day. Watching his friends die, his professors, his peers. The worst of the worst. And there's one that he hated the most. Being in Voldemort's point of view and killing Harry successfully and for good this time.

Hermione tried to get Harry to talk, but he's too stubborn. So she figured the only way to get him to talk was to schedule this appointment. He was promised confidentiality and listening ears with no judgement. Harry accepted because he knew that even though Hermione would always be there, she would probably say something like ‘You're not alone in this, we're all here for you and with you.’ Ron would listen to the whole thing and suggest getting a drink and food. Harry loves his friends, but it's hard to talk about such things when they've gone through it too. He wondered if they felt the same.

—

Harry was leaving his fourth session with Dr. Osborne. Unexpectedly, he enjoyed these meetings. It felt good to talk to someone outside of his friends. Hermione noticed how he was returning to his old self, joking around and enjoying playing quidditch at the Burrow.

Harry decided on taking a small walk around the Muggle London street before calling Hermione and Ron to pick him up. After ten minutes, though, sprinkles of rain were falling down. And sprinkles turned into hard falls. Harry covered his head with his hands and looked around for someplace to run in. Next to him was a dental office, but to his luck the door was locked. He kept looking and looking for some place to stay inside until finally, he saw a building across the street with a lit up ‘Open’ sign.

Harry looked both sides of the street before running across. He was getting soaked by the second and when he ran inside, his jacket was dripping onto the mat. The place was warm and smelled lovely. Harry took his glasses off and wiped it with the driest part of his shirt. The cafe looked as warm as it felt. There weren’t any guests inside and he didn't find anyone working there. Harry saw the bell on the bread display and pressed on it a few times. After a couple of minutes, a girl came to the front. “Sorry for taking so long, how can I help– oh are you alright?” You saw the puddles of water that were splattered all around the floor. But your worry was with the stranger that was most likely freezing. “D-do you happen to have a phone around?” Harry asked you. He was shaking where he stood and all he wanted was to go home and get into some warm clothes. You nodded your head and went in the back to get the phone. Harry wanted to sit down, but he didn't want to make more of a mess than he’s already done. You came back quickly with a phone and a few rags so he could dry himself.

Harry dialed Hermione’s number and waited for her to answer. She didn't answer the first or second time which made Harry frustrated. They better not be in the middle of it right now. Finally, she answered on his third call. “Hello?”

“Hermione, what the bloody hell have you been doing?” Harry sassed. When he looked up, he saw how you stood awkwardly to the side, surprised that in contrast to his sweet demeanor, he sounded like the opposite. But that was just your assumption.

“Harry? Is that you? Why are you calling from this number?” In the background, he could hear Teddy joyful coos. “I was just giving Teddy a bath, I couldn't hear the phone.”

“Oh. Well, it’s raining really hard, can you come pick me up?” Harry felt your eyes on him still and he smiled awkwardly.

“Of course, are you still in the office?”

“No, I’m– hold on” he stopped mid-sentence and lowered the phone down, “where am I?” It took you a couple seconds to process that he was talking to you now, “Oh, uh, Daisy Cafe.”

“Daisy Cafe,” Harry repeated back to Hermione. “Alright, I’ll be right there.” And she hung up. Harry handed the phone back to you, “Thanks.”

Your hand was warm against his, a warmth he wished he had instead of the cold that enveloped his body. Harry’s legs were getting tired from standing so long and you noticed the shift in his position. “Please, take a seat,” you had gestured to a table. Harry insisted that he didn't want to ruin the chairs, but you didn't mind.

You checked the time on your wristwatch and ran to the back leaving Harry alone. He wondered what you were doing until he saw you come back slowly dragging a large heating machine. Harry stood from his seat and rushed to help you, “Where did you want this?”

“I was going to put this in front of the table so you can warm up. Don’t want you to get sick,” you spoke softly. You felt yourself warm up on your cheeks, somehow shy in this moment. On a daily basis, you talk to loads of strangers and some of them were quite attractive. But something about this stranger felt different.

Harry blinked with an indescribable look in his eyes as he stuttered a ‘thank you’. You turned on the large heater after Harry sat back down and slightly shifted his chair so he could be in range of the heaters’ direction.

You grabbed your keys from your back pants pocket to lock the door and turned the ‘Open’ sign off. “Would you like some coffee?” you offered him. Harry nodded and searched his pockets for his wallet before you stopped him, “Don't worry! It's on the house.”

There was a pot of coffee that was still hot on the warmer and you grabbed a tray, filling it with a mug, creamer, sugar, and a small plate of assorted biscuits in case he was hungry as well. You walked to his table and sat them down. He was in awe of all the things you brought out for him and felt grateful that you would do this for a stranger. “Thank you,” he nodded his head at you with a genuine smile.

“It’s no trouble,” you smiled back. You sat across from him with a mug of your own and sipped on the hot beverage you made. Harry took a sip of the coffee he finished preparing and nearly sighed at the feeling of it warming him up inside. Mixed with the heat that was coming from the heater, he felt brilliant as he usually says.

“Do you live around here?” You started small chat to get out of the awkward silence.

“No, I live just outside Ottery St. Catchpole.” Harry stated. He noticed the confused look on your face, you had probably had no idea where that was. “It’s kind of in the middle of nowhere.”

You nodded in response. Harry then asked if you lived around. After a while, you had gotten to know each other pretty well. He learned about your two cats that are always fighting, you learned about his friends always pulling pranks on each other in the house. As Harry waited for Hermione to pick him up, he was enjoying talking and laughing with you. You two were having such a good time getting to know each other in what felt like thirty minutes, but was actually an hour.

Once Hermione was in front of the cafe and beeped the horn of the car, Harry felt a bit disappointed to leave. This was probably the first conversation he had with someone who he didn't already live with or paid to listen. And it was a bonus that he found you quite attractive. “That’s for me. Thank you… for letting me stay.”

“Oh it’s no trouble. Safe travels on your way home! I hope you don’t get sick,” you waved off as you opened the door for him. Harry ran through the hard rain to get into his friend's car, but once he opened the door to the front seat, he turned back to you. “I never got your name!” Harry yelled out.

“Y/N! What’s yours?” You voiced with the same energy.

“Harry!” You smiled and waved one last time before closing the door and got yourself ready to go home. Harry fastened his seatbelt and held a small smile nearly the entire ride home. Hermione cleared her throat to get her friends’ attention. “How was the session today?”

Harry nodded ‘yes’ in an attempt to not have to talk. Not because he was gloomy, but distracted. He then processed what she said and replied back to the bushy haired woman, “Oh, i-it went fine. Good, great.” Harry was stuttering over his words. It was something that Hermione instantly noticed what was going on. The last time he was like this was when he first met Cho in fourth year. It was nice, she thought, that Harry was not only getting back to normal, but was also focused on something - or rather someone - other than his nightmares.

—

Harry goes to your cafe now after every session with Dr. Osborne. He finally went for his drivers license so he didn't have to depend on Hermione anymore. Ron and Hermione apparate to work anyway, so it granted him more access to the car.

Every Monday and Thursday, you would wait for him to walk through your doors. You would set aside a small box of warm biscuits for him that he seemed to enjoy and remembered how he took his coffee. After a couple of weeks, the people you worked with would give you a smirk and tease you with ‘He’s here~’. One of them, Jo, would constantly ask you if Harry has asked you out yet. And every time, you'd say ‘No.’ only for him to reply back ‘Well, why don’t you ask him out?’

You’ve definitely thought about it, but you didn't know how to ask him. There would be times that you thought Harry would do it before he left, but he’d just be a stuttering mess and leave. So, tonight before he leaves, you planned to just be straight with him and ask him to dinner.

Harry came later than usual today. After he stepped out of the counselors’ office, he checked his hair in the mirror he saw in the hallways. Tonight, he was also planning on asking you out. He likes you and he was pretty sure you liked him too. Once he stepped outside, he saw a flower cart in front of a local bank. Harry debated whether or not to buy you some, but opted out. What if she says no? What do I do with them at that point?

After an hour of having a mental pep talk, he entered Daisy Cafe. He didn't see you behind the bread display like he always had. Jo had recognized him immediately and watched as Harry looked around the small cafe for you. “She’s in the back, would you like for me to get her?”

“I-I can wait. She’s probably busy,” Harry stuttered. He didn't know whether it was a good thing or bad thing that your co-worker instantly knew what he was there for. Is it really obvious? Harry thought. He saw as Jo walked to the back anyway, probably announcing his presence to you. As it turned out, you were in the back checking yourself out in the small mirror that was hung on the inside of your locker. You ran out as soon as Jo said "He’s here" and dusted the flour off onto your apron.

“Hi, Harry,” you greeted.

“Hi,” Harry greeted back. “How are you?”

“I’m doing good, just cleaning up. Did you have a good day?” you asked. Harry nodded his head. He was about to order before you stopped him, “Your usual today?” He gave a sheepish smile and scratched the back of his head, “I come in that often, don't I?” You chuckled and began making his coffee. “It’s alright, I enjoy your company.” The both of you blushed, more so you after the sudden confession.

You couldn't see him, but Jo was listening to your conversation and wanted to laugh. You looked at Harry for any signs of possible rejection and just as quickly looked away to finish his order. Jo came out from the back with his bag and keys in his hand, “I’ve counted the safe for you. Have a good night, I’ll head out.” You nodded your head and thanked god for the interruption, “Thanks hun, see you tomorrow.” He winked at Harry once you looked away as to say ‘Good luck’ and walked out.

Harry became nervous and thought about just grabbing his coffee and going home. He hadn't dated anyone in a long time and didn't know where to even start. Merlin, he didn't even know what to do in a relationship. And especially with a muggle. Harry nearly forgot what it was like to be around muggles after the Dursley's left their home on Privet Drive and Harry moved in the Weasley’s in the Burrow. He certainly couldn't bring you there anytime soon. Especially when Arthur would ask you loads of questions. Wait, I’m getting ahead of myself.

Neither of you knew how to get a conversation going. You took your time stirring his coffee and grabbing the small box of biscuits before turning back to him. You made yourself tea instead, having drank too much coffee throughout the day to calm your nerves. He took the styrofoam cup and box from your hands and purposely brushed his fingers against yours but made it seem like an accident. Your neck stiffened at the sudden physical contact and pulled your hands back. He felt electric and if he let you, you'd grab his hands and keep them intertwined with yours.

It’s now or never you thought. “Do you want to go to dinner sometime–”

“Would you like to go out with me–” you and Harry spoke at the same time. You hadn't processed what he said so you questioned, “Huh? What was that?” Harry thought he heard you correctly, but he asked you again, “Would you like to go out with me? For dinner, maybe?”

YES, YES, YES you chanted in your head. Your heart was warm and you felt a butterfly flutter about inside you. On the outside, you were cool and collected. But your smile could have spoken for you. “Yes, I’d love that.”

—

Hermione helped Harry with looking for nice places in muggle London. George offered his best suit to the raven-haired boy, but Harry declined because he was significantly smaller in stature than the tall ginger, and also because he feared that George would have hexed the suit to either squirt out water, or have random objects falling out the sleeves.

George, Ginny and Ron would tease Harry about finally having a girlfriend, only to get scolded by both Hermione and Molly to stop. “Harry is a perfectly handsome young boy, he should be dating as much as he can,” Molly would defend.

“Ah, but mum, Harry isn't a boy anymore,” George joked. Molly hit her sons’ head with a cleaning rag and returned to what she was doing. Harry had picked a small restaurant that Hermione recommended that was inexpensive but not shabby. He never really liked expensive places or things even though he can absolutely afford them. She suggested that she helped him pick out something to wear, but he stopped her right there. “I can dress myself, thanks,” Harry sassed.

“The one you should be helping is my hopeless brother,” Ginny joked about Ron. He didn't find it all funny as Ron had a sour look on his face and whispered under his breath, “Bloody menace.”

“What did you say?” Ginny stood straight up from the couch and chased Ron throughout the house. She may be the youngest in the house, but it didn't make her any less scary when mad. George laughed at the sight of his siblings fighting while Molly yelled at them to be careful.

Harry finally put everything together – but if he was honest, he was putting together whatever Hermione said – and went to his room. There was still a couple days until the date, but he was nervous. He’s never really gone on a date. There was the night with Patil at the Yule Ball, but that didn't end well. There were a couple hang outs with Cho in the library, but never an actual date. So he hoped that this would turn out well.

—

Harry's breath was taken away when he saw you. You looked absolutely beautiful in the sundress you wore. Looking ethereal, you hadn't noticed Harry across the street parking the car. For a split second, he almost rear ended the car in front of him.

He walked towards slowly after taking a deep breath and held a single daisy in one hand. Hermione said roses were ideal, but he figured he should come up with at least one thing on his own. Your e/c eyes met his green ones and your heart did somersaults in your chest. Once he stood in front of you, you both said ‘Hi’ at the same time. Harry handed you the daisy and you were flattered by the gesture. It was a beautiful flower and you couldn't wait to put it in a small vase and display it at the cafe.

“Shall we go inside?” Harry had one of his hands pointed towards the door of the restaurant. You nodded and walked into the place with Harry holding the door open for you and another elderly couple behind him. He’s so sweet you thought.

The night was perfect; Harry had felt comfortable in your presence. Much like the first night you had met and the times after, you both spent the dinner talking and laughing. This was the most normal, but also best Harry had felt in a long time. He hadn't realized how he never really got to be a young person due to all the insane things he’d gone through his six years at Hogwarts and then before with his aunt and uncle. But here he was with you, doing the most normal thing. Harry’s troubles were lifted off of his shoulders. There was no threat of Death Eaters terrorizing the streets, there was no Dark Lord out to get him; it was just him sitting down and having dinner with a woman that he really liked.

He learned more about you tonight. For one, you were also an only child. Other than your cats, you also liked dogs. And you occasionally played football with some of your cousins. Harry had never played football, but if it was anything like quidditch, he was sure that he'd love it as well.

At the end of the date, he took you to your underground tube station. You walked side by side, hands slightly brushing against another. You walked a bit faster to stop in your tracks right in front of him. “I had a lot of fun,” you confessed.

“Me too,” Harry expressed. You looked down at your fiddling hands while Harry couldn't take his eyes off of you. He was about to say ‘good night’ before you built up the courage and kissed him on the cheek. “Night, Harry,” you beamed at him. Harry was turned into a blubbering, love-struck fool as he saw you walk further and further away. Finally, he yelled out, “I’ll see you on Monday!”

Before turning away into the tube, you waved and repeated his words back at him, “See you Monday!”

—

“Well you're certainly in a bright mood today, Mr. Potter,” Dr. Osborne observed Harry from his seat. Since the date, he’s been talking a bit brighter and his smile is more genuine than when he first came in. “Could it be because you’re seeing someone after you leave?” All Harry could do was smile. “Well I’m very happy that you now have a companion aside from your friends.”

Harry nodded before he replied back, “Thank you, sir.”

“No need to thank me, Mr. Potter. You did this on your own,” Dr. Osborne stated. “Will you bring her to the wedding?”

“No, I don't think we’re ready for that,” Harry informed. This wedding would definitely include magic and you hadn't been close to any exposure of it. “Of course.” Dr, Osborne added. There was a bit of silence after that, which gave the counselor an opportune moment to ask about some of the things that were the reason for his weekly visits. “Do you still have the nightmares?”

Harry’s smile lowered. “Yeah, I do. But not as frequent as I used to have them.” It was true, it went down from him having them about nearly everyday to only get them once every couple weeks. He thanked Merlin you were kept out of his nightmares. He didn't need to see something traumatizing.

Dr. Osborne took notes and set his notepad down. “Well, Mr. Potter. I have seen excellent progress since day one. I think we can move down to just one session per week and work our way down to once every few weeks. I'll see you next Monday.” He opened the door for Harry and shook his hand as Harry left. Harry went to your cafe right after. The daisy he gifted you was on display above the glass bread display in a small, white vase. He hoped that you regularly watered and fed it so you wouldn't notice that Harry actually hexed the flower to never die. You were currently helping someone out when Harry stood in line. Once the customer you were with left, you noticed your boyfriend – at least you assumed he was, now – standing behind a couple of people. He waved at you, and you pointed to the usual table he sat at. It was almost like you reserved the table only for him. He nodded and sat down, patiently waiting for you to finish the line of customers.

Harry was mesmerized watching you work, the beautiful, kind smile you had when talking to customers. Some of them were obviously regulars as you asked one elderly man how his grandchildren were. Once she finished helping everyone, she started working on the usual coffees and tray on biscuits for the two of you.

Harry loved hearing about your day and he wished he could tell you more beyond what happens at home that didn't include magic. He didn't know when he'd tell you about him being a wizard. Ron and Hermione told him that if he were to tell you, you're more than welcome to attend their wedding which was still a few months away now that they have all the time in the world to plan it. He didn't know what to say, but there was one thing he was sure about. He really liked, maybe even loved, how comfortable he felt around you. He liked the way your hands felt in his, your eyes shying away when you looked at him for too long. And he loved the feeling of your warm, soft lips against his at the end of the night when you had just locked the doors and he just went for it. Because in that moment, he wasn't the famous Harry Potter who saved the wizarding world, he wasn't Harry Potter who was recovering from the aftermath of the Battle. He was just Harry, and he really liked being your boyfriend.

At least he assumed he was.

—

requests open!

[birdbrain90]

Raindrops on Roses - A Sylki Fanfic

@swinging-stars-from-satellites (DAMMIT I told you it would make me write Sylki fic xD . This is what I came up with. I didn't do that "I end up in your bed" prompt correctly at ALL, but creative liberties are a thing. This is what I tell myself. It's not TERRIBLE for a 24 hour fic, at any rate. LOL) BASED ON THIS TROPE/PROMPT - "there were two beds but in the middle of the night, you still slip into mine and i don’t complain because you’re sick with a cold/fever because we were running away from the authorities last night and it was pouring rain, and i wake up the next morning and we’re not cuddling or anything, although i wish we were, but we’re facing each other and oh my god, you’re still asleep and i can see every strand of disheveled hair, every freckle, every eyelash, every single detail of your face, illuminated by the 6 am sunrise from the molding motel window behind you, is this love?" The rain hadn't ceased all day, and they wondered if it ever would. Loki and Sylvie had been running all morning and afternoon, trying to cover as much ground as possible before their next jump. They had taken to apocalypse hopping, because two Lokis, separate entities fulfilling the same cosmic role, could not exist together on the timeline. Neither of them found themselves satisfied with that answer, so they ran, and ran, and ran some more.

This time though, neither was alone. It had become fun for both of them, ducking and dodging order while chaos ensued around them. It wasn't much of a permanent life, but it fit somehow.

Finally they came upon a motel. It didn't take long for Sylvie to enchant the receptionist, procuring a room for the night.

"Some day you will have to teach me how to do it." Muttered Loki as he peeled his sopping wet jacket off.

"It's freezing. This weather is absolute shit." Looking like a drowned rat indeed, Loki smiled and waved his wrist, conjuring sleeping clothes for both of them. "Thanks. I'm going to take a shower."

There was an odd pause before she left. She wanted to ask if he wanted to join, and he wanted to ask if she wanted company. Neither had the courage, so the moment was lost on both.

When Sylvie emerged from the shower, her cheeks were blazing red. She flopped down on her bed, looking over at Loki who laid on his bed reading a book.

"My turn?" He muttered, not looking up from the pages. Eventually he got up and headed to do the same thing. When he also emerged clean and dry, he spied Sylvie asleep on her bed. Smiling, he raised his hands, grunting a little as a green glow lit his hands, and an unseen force lifted her into the air, while the same force prepared her bed, tucking her gently into it. "Goodnight, Sylvie darling." He smiled, secretly terrified that she might hear that last part.

Sylvie awoke some time later, shivering so hard her teeth were chattering. She was...cold? That was unusual enough on its own. Every movement seemed to make her colder. She sat up and looked over at Loki, sound asleep in the bed next to hers. He didn't seem to be in any sort of distress. There was no way someone as sturdy as her would fall ill, but that's certainly how she felt. Maybe it was from being soaking wet all day…

Sylvie continued shivering in bed, debating going and taking another shower when something disrupted her thoughts.

"Sylvie…" came a whisper from the bed next to her. She rolled over and stood, throwing her shivering legs over the side of the bed.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you. I can’t sleep.” When she received no response, she stood and padded over to his bed. He was very clearly still sleeping. Why was he whispering her name in his sleep? “Loki…?” She called.

“Hmm?” Came his groggy reply. His eyes didn’t open, and she honestly wondered whether the oaf was even conscious or not.

“Loki I’m freezing. I can’t sleep. I dunno what’s wrong.” She shivered, immediately missing her blankets.

Loki said nothing, and his eyes still did not open. He took a sharp breath in through his nose, and clumsily peeled back the blanket, wordlessly inviting her into his bed. Sylvie faltered, not knowing what to think, but also not wanting to wait long enough for him to actually wake up and see her embarrassment if he was indeed still sleeping. Slowly, she climbed into the bed next to him and pulled the covers back up over herself. Immediately she was greeted with the smell of his skin. Sweet and spicy all at once. She was frustrated by how intoxicating it all was.

They’d grown close over the time they’d been running, but they were both too cripplingly shy to make any sort of advance. Sylvie didn’t understand it at all. She was no stranger to seducing in order to get what she wanted. Information, a drink or ten, relief from needs, it all came easily to her. Yet somehow here, in front of this beautiful man who had stolen her heart, it was way too real, and she felt reduced to a stuttering teenager. She huffed, rolling away from him in an attempt to forget his sleeping face. She had also completely forgotten the fact that she had been shivering from head to toe just minutes prior. Her quaking had ceased, in favor of warm, restful sleep.

The word “cozy” wasn’t a word Loki normally included in his vocabulary. He’d grown up surrounded by princely comforts, with more brought to him if only he asked. But cozy? That was a new one, and when he awoke the following morning it was certainly at the forefront of his mind. He hummed, stretching lazily and extending his arm. His entire body stiffened in fear when his arm rested on top of something soft and curvy. His breath halted in his throat, and he feared he might choke on it as his eyelids flew open to reveal Sylvie sleeping peacefully next to him. His eyes darted under the blanket, relieved and somehow disappointed at the same time when he saw they were both still clothed. When had she moved into his bed? He certainly remembered falling asleep separately last night. Having to consciously breathe in and out, he tried to relieve himself of some of the rigidity in his body, save for the painfully obvious spot.

Shaking his head, he steeled his nerves. He wasn’t sure exactly when he’d been reduced to a terrified teenager. He looked over at the woman lying near him, his mouth falling open in quiet reverence when a sunbeam poked through the window and illuminated her face. Every gentle crease in her face, the swell of her lips, the long lashes that concealed the eyes he found himself staring into for way too long, it was all too much. He gasped, averting his eyes for fear his heart would leap right out of his chest. He stiffened again when he felt her shift, inching barely closer to him. He wanted to reach out and caress her face, the fear of waking her and ruining this moment overpowering his desires in that moment.

Loki wasn’t sure how long he had laid there, attempting to commit her sleeping face to memory. Her face while she was awake was its own kind of beautiful. He loved the way her nose would scrunch up at certain jokes, the way she would roll her eyes at him throughout the day. When they would get into trouble, her almost inhuman snarl set his blood aflame. He felt he could do anything while the heat of her battle rage encompassed him. Sleeping, though, she was completely different. Her face was peaceful, something he suspected she hadn’t had much of while she was awake. That thought, combined with the tranquility of the moment brought tears to his eyes. He wanted to give her a life of peace. Of stability. But he feared they might never get that chance.

Sniffling quietly, he decided to damn the consequences, and he reached out and brought a hand to her cheek. She did not move under his ghostly touch. He drew his thumb down the bridge of her nose, gliding it under her eyes, memorizing every hill and valley on her face. Moving a bit closer to her, he continued, his desire for her to know how he felt only increasing with physical contact. He removed his hand from her face, sliding it down her arm and eventually resting on her hip. Loki would never be able to explain where his sudden hubris came from, but he decided he would risk the angry palm that would surely fly at his face before too long. Butterfly kisses. Feather light touches of his lips that he was sure would wake her when she felt his quivering breaths on her face. He began at her forehead, kissing as much of her face as he could cover, before finally resting on her lips. He lingered there a bit longer, savoring the feeling. They had kissed before, in the citadel, and hadn’t seemed to find time for it since. He had been able to sneak a kiss on her cheek, or her knuckles every so often, but they hadn’t been able to find time to lay together and explore each other properly.

His heart bounced into his throat when he saw her eyelids bunch up, and finally flutter open. As soon as they did, she gasped and lurched backward.

“Loki! I-I… Uh….”

“Shh…” He crooned, stretching his hand out. “It’s okay. It’s only me, after all.”

“I-I… I was really cold last night. You pulled back the blanket so I… I just…”

“I have no memory of that.” He chuckled, before his face dissolved into concern. “But you? Cold? Are you okay?” He reached out a hand, pressing the back of it to her forehead. He shrugged, feeling no difference in her normal temperature. “You feel okay now. Likely from being out in the rain all day.

“Yeah…” She laid back down, still facing him. Loki followed suit, letting his head hit the pillow once more. They stared awkwardly for a while, fumbling around in their own heads and letting their cheeks darken several shades before someone spoke again. It was Sylvie who spoke first, looking down and counting the wrinkles in the sheets. Anything but meeting his eyes. “Loki…?”

“Yes?”

“We’re in a bed.” Oh that was dumb. Of all the things she’d ever said in her life, that had to be the dumbest.

“Okay? Yes. Yes we are.” She heard him chuckle, ending with a snort that made her want to reach out and smack him. “Brilliant observation, darling.” That word slipped out, and she saw fear creep into his eyes for a brief moment. What he didn’t know is how that one word flipped her stomach and filled it with butterflies.

“Idiot. That’s not what I mean. I mean…” What did she mean? She had no idea. “I want…”

“Yes…?”

“I want it to be like this. Just like this. Default. You and me.” The shit eating grin had not left his face, and she wasn’t sure if she wanted to jump on him and strangle it off, or kiss it off. Maybe both. She wondered if he’d be into both.

“Of course. Next time, enchant the receptionist into giving us a key to a room with only one bed.” He laughed, grunting as she finally decided to reach out and shove his chest. He did notice, however, that after she was done shoving him, her hand lingered. He took the opportunity to place his hand over hers, urging her to feel the heart that beat only for her. “I’m teasing you. No need to get violent.” He smiled, his face melting into lovesickness. “I would love nothing more than to wake up with you in my arms every morning, wherever we are, at the end of a thousand worlds I only want to feel your skin and your heart entwined with mine. I lo-....” He froze, the phrase that threatened to leave his lips and the possibility that she might reject it cooled the flame in his gut. “Wh-what I mean to say is I…Um….Y-you see, I’ve thought about this quite a bit... I-I lov-...” He sighed, frustrated. “Can I just kiss you instead? Words are hard when they’re all for you.”

She nodded. His heart sang at her quiet acceptance as he joined his lips with hers. Eventually as their clothing began to fall away piece by piece, the drab motel around them became a luminous place of worship. The world could have ended around them and neither would have cared. This was enough, it was glorious, and it was all their own. Whatever came their way, they’d figure it out somehow, and they’d figure it out together. (This will be cross posted on my Archive of our Own account, Wonderchild90. So if you happen to see it there, that's me! It's not stolen. Oh but also if you enjoy sickening fanfics for these two dumb demigods, come have a look! Shameless self plugging. LOL.)

[fallingforunrealisticromance]

Stay with me - tony stark x fem!reader

A/N: I've re entered my marvel phase once again and I'm not mad about it! I'm so desperate to see Black Widow it looks so good! Anyway enjoy this. The details about panic attacks are based on my personal experiences but they can effect different people in different ways.

Warnings: Panic attacks, swearing

***= Time Skip

Word Count: 2680

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Guys I’m going to be fine. I always am. It was a one-time thing, I promise” I sighed as Nat, Steve and Bruce followed me into the kitchen of the avengers compound.

“We just want you to be okay, it didn’t exactly look like you enjoyed the experience.” Nat said sitting opposite me.

“You almost passed out. That happening while your out is the last thing any of us want for you.” Bruce added. I sipped my drink, not wanting to continue this conversation. The team had becoming increasingly cautious around me since I had a really bad panic attack last week. The truth is I’ve been dealing with them since I was a kid, before I’d even met any of the avengers, I just learnt how to hide them. But last week, things got too much, and I lost control. I don’t remember much but evidently everyone found out. They thought this was a new thing to me and were now trying to wrap me up like some sort of fragile object.

“I’ll be fine. I’m going to be with Casey, and I’m literally just going to be sat in an office all day. The hardest thing I will have to do is battle her shitty coffee machine” I joked, trying to get them to drop the subject. My best friend Casey had asked me to come into work with her to sort through a bunch of files that her boss had dumped on her after she broke up with him. I have no clue what she actual does but she was apparently ‘up to her tits’ in paperwork so I figured it wouldn’t hurt to join her. Just then my phone rang.

“Hey Case, I’m just about to leave. Yeah I’ll meet you at the station. Okay cool. Bye” I hung up and grabbed my bag. “Well, this has been fun, but I have a train to catch so I’ll see you all later.” As I turned to leave I felt someone grab my arm, pulling me back.

“You’re not getting the train. Get happy to take you.” Steve said causing me to roll my eyes.

“Steve I’m not a child, I’m capable of getting a train. Plus, it’s not Happy’s job to chauffeur me around, he has tony for that.” I replied.

“Who has me for what?” Tony piped up walking in.

“Nothing, I have to go.” I said before once again turning to leave.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y call happy and tell him to get the car ready.” Tony said not looking up from his phone.

“Right away Mr Stark”

I groaned. “Are you kidding me?”

“Hey for once I agree with capsicle. We don’t need you dying on a train now do we?”

“I hate you.”

“Ouch my heart.”

It was starting to piss me off at how the were treating me. I get that they just wanted to look out for me, but it was just making me feel even more pathetic than I already did. I slumped down onto the sofa irritated. Suddenly I felt a light tap on my shoulder. Looking up I saw Nat leaning again the back of the sofa, looking down at me.

“I know it might feel like we’re being unfair or irrational, but we just want you to be safe. We need you.” I smiled slightly at her words.

“Thanks Nat.” She nodded at me before walking off.

“Miss Y/L/N. Happy is ready for you.”

“Thanks F.R.I.D.A.Y” I grabbed my stuff, yelling a quick goodbye to everyone before making my way downstairs and into the back of the black Mercedes parked outside the compound.

*******************************************************************

“Seriously did you have to dump him 2 weeks before you were due to leave? There’s so much crap here.” I groaned jokingly, sifting through the many papers laid out in front of me.

“It’s not my fault he was boring. I just couldn’t hack it anymore” Casey replied chuckling.

“Why did I agree to this?” I said leaning back in my chair.

“Because you love and care about me.” She said smiling at me

“Hmm that’s debatable.” I joked, causing her to swat my arm with the file she was holding. Thankfully, there was a small knock at the door that saved me from any further attacks.

“Excuse me Casey, boss man needs you in his office. He didn’t sound too happy.”

“Okay thanks, I’ll come now.” She replied. As she left the room she shot me an anxious look to which I responded a very supportive thumbs up. I know, I’m great.

*******************************************************************

I don’t know how long Casey had been gone but I’d suddenly began to feel a trickle of anxiety wash through my bones. I’d felt uneasy as soon as she’d left but I tried to push the feeling away and throw myself back into the paperwork. But every time I looked at the page, my eyes couldn’t focus. All the words were merging together in front of me.

“Please not now.” I mumbled to myself. I could feel my heart hammering a mile a minute against my ribcage as my hands began to shake uncontrollably. My throat felt as if it was collapsing in on itself as I tried my best to get oxygen into my lungs. I wanted to get up, to run outside, but I felt like if I moved I was going to be sick everywhere. So, I stayed there, trapped, with my head in my hands praying for this to be over. After what felt like a lifetime, the feeling began to dissipate – only to be replaced with an overwhelming sense of tiredness. Physically unable to hold myself up any longer, I let my head fall against the desk. I felt so drained, so weak I wasn’t sure how I would get home at this point. Where the hell was Casey?

---AT THE AVENGERS COMPOUND(third person pov)---

“Mr Stark. You told me to alert you when Miss Y/L/N’s heart rate began to climb. It has rapidly increased over the past few minutes and does not appear to be settling” F.R.I.D.A.Y said. Tony rushed over to the screen that was currently displaying Y/N’s heart rate.

“Oh shit.” He said to himself, running his fingers through his hair. A moment later, Steve entered the lab.

“Everything alright stark?” He asked leaning against one of the desks.

“Not at all. Y/N’s having another panic attack right now.” Tony explained, visibly stressed.

“What?” Steve said standing up straight.

“I have to go get her.” Tony said pulling his jacket on. Before Steve could even reply, Tony headed for the door.

---BACK AT THE OFFICE(first person pov)---

I’d been able to prop my head up in my hands once again, but I was barely able to keep my eyes open. All I wanted was to go home. Suddenly I heard the door open.

“Oh my god Y/N. What happened? Are you okay?” Casey said rushing to my side, clearly noticing my dilemma.

“N-no” I stuttered. My voice came out as a sort of broken whisper. I’d never felt more drained. I heard the door open once more.

“Casey?-“

“Not now, I’m busy”

“No seriously-“

“Did you not hear me? Go away john”

“But Tony stark is looking for you.” He spat out. Relief spread throughout me at the mention of his name. Casey jumped up and ran out, soon retuning with Tony.

“Thank god” I breathed. Tony knelt down beside me in an instant.

“Hey you.” He said softly. “Let’s get you home okay?” He smiled at me sympathetically. I nodded and went to reach for my stuff.

“I’ll get that, put your jacket on.”

“Didn’t bring one.” I mumbled.

“Of course, you didn’t” He said sarcastically as he pulled his off and wrapped it around my shoulders. I slipped my arms in and hugged it tight to me, enjoying the heat it was providing.

“Come on then.” I felt Tony slip his arm around my waist as he pulled me to my feet. I wrapped one of my arms around his shoulders as the other fell by my side. “You okay?” He asked.

“Just get me home.” I whispered.

“Why do you think I’m here?” He joked. We made our way down the hall, tony taking the most of my weight.

“Thank you for coming.” I said as we got into the elevator.

“Anytime gorgeous.” He replied with his signature grin.

“How come you are here though? How did you know I needed you?” I asked.

“I have a sixth sense. Like peter, expect I sense panic attacks” he said chuckling.

“Seriously tony. I didn’t even call you.” I pressed. He fidgeted uncomfortably next to me.

“Okay don’t be mad at me. Because if you think about it if I hadn’t done it I wouldn’t have known you were freaking out and you’d probably still be stuck there, and I know that that’s the last thing you would want so technically I-“

“Just spit it out stark”

“I tracked you.”

I starred at him. “You tracked me?” He nodded sheepishly. “Wha- How?” I stuttered.

“You know I gave you that new watch? Well, I may have changed some things” He said avoiding my eyes.

“What things?”

“Well, I just made sure it would be able to give me your location. A-and if your heartrate reached a certain point, F.R.I.D.A.Y would let me know.” He explained. I didn’t say anything. I wasn’t even mad, but I like the fact he thought I was. “Look before you have a go at me I just wanted to keep you safe.” I smiled at his words.

“I know. I’m not mad.”

“Oh, thank god.”

********************************************************************

The journey home was harmless. The fresh air had done me the world of good. Even those I was still worn out; I was feeling a lot more human. When we pulled up to the compound, Tony rushed to my side to open the door and help me stand.

“I’m okay tony you can relax now” I chuckled.

“I just don’t need you passing out on my watch, Steve won’t let me hear the end of it” He joked.

“Nice to know you care about me.” I replied. As soon as we walked in, I saw Steve talking anxiously with Nat and Wanda.

“Y/N thank god.” Nat rushed over to me, pulling me in for a hug.

“I’m alive guys false alarm.” I said light-heartedly, letting her go.

“Do you know why this keeps happening to you all of a sudden?” Wanda asked. Before I could answer she gasped slightly. “Oh…” Shit. I forgot she could read minds. She’d figured it out.

“What is it Wanda?” Steve asked. Wanda starred at me for a moment. I really didn’t know if she was going to tell them so I cut her off before she could.

“Casey was having an affair with her boss.” I blurted out, causing them all to look at me. “That’s why I went in with her today, she broke up with him and to get back at her he’s been giving her a shit ton of paperwork for no reason. While I was there he called her into his office, leaving me alone. I guess I was just so stressed about what they were talking about I worked myself up.” I lied. Wanda nodded in agreement with me, but the look she gave me made me think that this conversation definitely wasn’t over.

“Okay well I’m going to get this one into bed, see you guys later” Tony said coming up behind me, placing his hand on my back. We made our way up to my room where I promptly flopped onto my bed, gladly expecting the comfort it provided.

“Nope come on get up.” Tony said tugging my leg.

“What? I thought we came up here so I could sleep? I’ve had a long day tony.” I groaned.

“Yes but you need to change. I’m not having you sleep in jeans. The thought of it alone is enough to give me nightmares.” He replied, pulling me so I was sitting upright. “You stay there, don’t fall asleep.” He said before quickly dashing out of the room. I sighed, leaning back on my elbows. Tony was my best friend, sure, but that didn’t stop him being a massive pain in the arse. He soon returned, holding what looked like pyjamas.

“Why have you brought those? I have my own clothes you know.” “No shit sherlock. But I know that you like to wear these when your ill so I figured you might want some comfort after what happened today.” He said setting them down beside me. His words caused me to stare at him for a second. The genuine care in his voice was enough to make my stomach flip. The fact that he’d even thought of something like that caused a few tears to come to the surface.

“Stop starring at me, it’s creepy” He said with a chuckle. When he looked over at me, his face dropped. “Y/N? Are you okay? Why are you crying?” He knelt down in front of me, taking my hand in his.

“I just- Thank you. For the clothes. The fact that you noticed that means the world to me.” I said softly, gazing at our hands.

“I always notice” He mumbled. I looked at him fondly, a strange feeling growing inside of me. We settled in a comfortable silence for a moment. For some reason, my view on tony shifted. That one gestured made my entire opinion of him change. I’d always known I cared for him deeply, more so than myself. And I won’t sit here and tell you I’ve been in love with him since I first met him, because that sure as hell isn’t the case. We’d been friends. Nothing more, nothing less. But now, seeing this side of him, maybe there was a possibility for us to be something more. Whatever that was we didn’t need to figure out right now. But I wanted him with me.

“I’ll leave you to get changed.” His voice snapped me from my thoughts as he dropped my hand from his.

“No, wait don’t go.” I said hurriedly going to pull him back.

“I’ll just be on the other side of the door.” He chuckled. I let him go and went about changing. He’d left me one of his old Metallica t shirts. It wasn’t too big for me, but big enough to be comfortable. I paired with a pair of basketball shorts I’d bought him a couple years ago for Christmas. Not that he actually played basketball, I just thought they were cool. I went over to the door and opened it, not expecting tony to fall back onto my feet. I laughed as he scrambled to stand up right.

“You could’ve knocked or something.” He said straightening his shirt.

“I didn’t expect you to be on the floor” I laughed.

“Whatever” He rolled his eyes, sitting at the edge of my bed. Once I’d calmed myself down, I sat down next to him and rested my head on his shoulder. He moved so his arm was round my shoulder, allowing me to move closer.

“I like this.” I said softly.

“Like what?” “

This. Being with you.”

“So do I” He whispered.

I closed my eyes, enjoying the silence.

“No, you’re not falling asleep like this. Lie down” Tony said shrugging me off his shoulder. I didn’t even have the effort to argue as I slid back and pulled the covers over me.

“You’re coming to.” I stated, looking expectantly at him. He rolled his eyes before climbing in beside me. I curled into him, placing my head on his chest as I wrapped my arms around him. I felt him place his arm around my waist, pulling me closer to him. After the shit show I’d been through earlier, this was the exact peace I’d been craving. No matter where things went from here, Tony would always be my rock. And I couldn’t ask for anyone better.

[alirhi]

...goddess help me...

This fucking episode. *deep breath* This... This episode is where I'm expecting to get some serious hate. Let me just get this out of the way right up front:

I. Hate. Zemo.

I do not find him sympathetic, or funny, or charming. I find him creepy and annoying. I did not like him in CA:CW and I do not like him in TFATWS. If you are pro-Zemo, you are not going to like my version of this show from here on out. Just find something else to read and don't bother me about it. You've got the actual canon, so go enjoy that.

Got it? Good. Now, on to the main event!

Episode 3: The Power Broker

First of all, Sam doesn't let Bucky walk in there alone. No matter Bucky's (flimsy and nonsensical) argument, Sam's like "hell no. I go in with you, or you don't go in." The main reason for this isn't to keep Bucky from breaking Zemo out of prison (with decent writing, he would never do that) - it's so that Sam witnesses Zemo taunting Bucky with/about the trigger words. because Zemo is a piece of shit.

Since he doesn't know the full story, Sam is confused, but he files this interaction away to ask Bucky about later. He's listening to Zemo acknowledging that Bucky was "not conscious for most of [his] imprisonment" (which, yes, clearly refers to the time he spent frozen, but can also mean while he was under their control as TWS/"The Asset" - also, key word: imprisonment) and when he calls Bucky a means to an end, Sam scowls, looking ready to go off on him, but he waits. They've got more important issues.

Neither of them entertains the thought of breaking Zemo out for even a nanosecond. He does that shit himself. And literally the only reason I'm sticking with him getting out at all is because I want to address some truly egregious moments linked directly to him in the show. Zemo makes them think he's setting them on the trail when really he's just sending them to his motor pool. Bucky and Sam are confused until they see Zemo in his stolen guard uniform, then they're both angry and want to ship him right back to prison, but he strikes a deal with them: "My help for my temporary freedom. Creating super soldiers cannot be allowed to continue; let me finish my work, and then do with me as you will." He has no intention of going quietly back to prison, obviously, and they're not stupid enough to believe otherwise, but they believe they can keep him on a short leash, so they agree for now. Anything to bring down the Flag Smashers and whoever created them.

After the title, we cut to Raynor on the phone in her office. She's agitated, fiddling with things on her desk. "No, sir," she's practically growling, "it was disrupted. - Walker did! - It's not my fault your new attack dog got off-leash!" She pauses, huffs, and says more calmly, "No. Of course not. I'm sorry. - Well, I don't see how, with the new Cap strutting around barking orders! - What am I supposed to do? Tell Captain America in front of a dozen witnesses that he can't have his predecessor's favorite pet because we're not done reprogramming him? I didn't see that going over too well. I made a call. - No. No, no, no, we can still use him. The work's not finished, but he still trusts me. He'll be back." A pause as she listens. Angry again, she snaps, "What do you want me to do, shove a tracker up his ass? He'll be back, and we'll pick right back up where we left off! - Don't worry, sir, the Asset will be fully compliant and ready to use soon. I'll make sure of it. - Yes, sir. You, too." She hangs up and tosses her phone on the couch, grumbling, "Dick."

Cut back to Sam, Bucky, and Zemo getting going on their trip to Madripoor. On the plane, Sam wants to talk to Bucky about what he's learned so far, but doesn't want to bring it up in front of Zemo... until the notebook incident reminds him that Zemo already knows more about Bucky than he does.

After Zemo's line about the list, Sam angrily corrects him: "You mean people HYDRA used The Winter Soldier to hurt." When Zemo shrugs and his response is basically along the lines of "what's the difference" Sam is like "oh hell no."

"Those words you were reciting at him," he reminds Zemo, "what were they, Russian? They clearly meant something. They were supposed to do something. What are they?" "Sam, let it go," Bucky pleads, unable to look at either of them. "It's nothing." "You wanna drown in your guilt, that's fine," Sam snaps, "but make sure it's for the right reasons." He turns back to Zemo, who's smiling at this exchange because he's a monster and thinks Bucky's suffering is fucking funny. "I asked you a question, Zemo. What did those words do?" "They activate the Winter Soldier programming," Bucky grudgingly admits. He doesn't want to talk about it, but he's sure as hell not going to let Zemo speak for him. "Or, they did, before the Wakandans got all that shit out of my head." "It's a shame," Zemo says with a smirk. "Imagine the possibilities that come with perfect obedience." "I think you mean 'slavery'," Sam growls, "and I think you're in the wrong crowd to be looking so pleased about it. Remember that we can send your ass back to prison any time." "Of course," Zemo agrees, but with an arrogant smile that shows he doesn't believe for a second that these two have any real power over him. Still, he bides his time and sits back quietly, watching Bucky fidget with the notebook. Sam turns back to Bucky, seeing his discomfort; he won't let the topic go, though, not yet. He just softens his tone. "So, they 'activated the Winter Soldier'? What exactly does that mean?" Bucky shrugs, still not looking up. "Pretty much what he said - perfect obedience. What little consciousness they left me between cryo and the chair was squashed down, locked away. And I did whatever I was told, exactly the way they told me to." It finally clicks. He'd had his suspicions before, of course, but now Sam gets it. Visibly horrified, he stares at this quiet, broken man, and finally sees the truth of what he'd been through for 70 years: "They stripped away your autonomy. Shit, Bucky, they didn't even let you be a person. That's..." He swallows, looking like he'll be sick any minute. "That's awful, man. I'm so sorry." When Bucky tries to shrug it off and downplay it again, Sam gets angry. "Look at me!" He waits; it takes a few seconds, but Bucky reluctantly looks up and is surprised to see just how upset Sam is on his behalf. "It wasn't your fault. None of it. When Steve said you didn't have a choice, I had no idea... You really, truly had no choice; not even the ability to choose. That's horrifying." "I doubt it would make much difference to the people he's killed," Zemo points out snidely. "Or their families. Let's ask Tony Stark, shall we?" "You shut the hell up," Sam growls. He watches Bucky flinch and make that face - the face he's starting to really fucking hate - that says he agrees with Zemo. Bucky still can't see things the way Sam does; he still feels the guilt and shame, and even when he himself pointed out his lack of agency under HYDRA, it didn't click for him that Sam is right, not Zemo.

It's too much, too soon. Sam sees that and decides to change the subject, to give Bucky some time to process. He nods at the notebook, and they have their little Marvin Gaye debate, where Sam is over the top about it on purpose, because Bucky needs the distraction.

Of course, Zemo ruins it by opening his big mouth again and reminding Bucky of more trauma: his time fighting in WWII. That's why Sam latches onto the bit about Madripoor; to keep the focus not only on the task at hand, but off of Bucky's past that he clearly still can't cope with.

"James... You will have to become someone you claim is gone." Sam is officially ready to throw Zemo out a window. 😂 The only reason he doesn't jump to Bucky's defense again and basically tell Zemo to fuck himself (in a PG-13 way 🙄) is because Bucky's, as Sam pointed out in ep2, a grown-ass man, and because he's just learned how few decisions this poor man has been able to make in his life. Sam doesn't want to come across as another "handler," deciding everything for him, even if he does think this plan is stupid and needlessly cruel.

At the bar, when asked if he wants "the usual", Sam just casually waves the bartender off like "nah". Zemo already said they had business to attend to, so it's not like anyone would be suspicious that now's probably not a good time to be doing weird shots lol. (wtf even was that? I'm not sure I want to know, but...what part of the snake did he drop into that drink?)

Sam's not an idiot (I'm really so sick of this trend of turning intelligent characters into morons because the writers can't think of any other way to move their plot along) so his cell phone has been off this whole time. No sudden call from Sarah to put them all in danger. There was really no point to that, anyway; Sharon likely would have killed Selby for talking about Nagle with or without the excuse of "saving" Sam and Bucky. I mean, it's not like they know who fired that shot, ever.

"They cleared the Bionic Staring Machine," Sam still jokes, but he follows it with, "and they think he's a mass-murderer." "They think?" Sharon stares at him incredulously. "Didn't he kill pretty much everyone he's ever met?" "Wow." Sam glances back at Bucky. "She really is awful now." To Sharon, he adds, "You met Steve; do you really think he'd have defied 117 countries to protect someone evil?" "He did it for Bucky," she points out. "Let's face it - Bucky could blow up half the planet, and Steve's loyal-to-a-fault ass would still take a bullet for him." "You know I'm sitting right here, right? I can hear you." "Look, I don't think you're evil, Bucky," Sharon assures him. "But I know you killed a lot of people for HYDRA." "I'm not denying it." "He didn't have a choice," Sam snaps, glaring at them both. "But we're not getting into that right now. My point is, the government's afraid of Bucky, and they still pardoned him. All you did was steal something. I'm sure they can be persuaded to see reason." "The day the US government sees reason," Sharon quips, rolling her eyes, "is the day I sprout real wings and fly off into the sunset." "Careful, Icarus," Bucky mocks with a smirk, "the sun and brand new wings don't exactly go together." Then he shrugs and glances at Sam. "But she's not wrong."

At the party that night, it takes a few minutes (grumpy old man Bucky's not sure how to feel about the music lol) but a peek of pre-war Bucky comes out to play: they were told to "blend in", so he dances. At first he's just bobbing around alone looking stoic and out of place, but soon he's smiling and dancing between two attractive people - one male, one female. Sam is surprised, but before he can tease him for it, Sharon comes to get them all. Even she's a little "wait what?" at Bucky having a little fun lol. (recovery is not linear, guys. trauma doesn't mean "perpetually miserable, no fun, doesn't even know how to smile." in my TFATWS, Bucky gets his lighter moments; real ones, not humor at his expense)

When they find Nagle, Bucky's the one who notices and opens the secret door, while Sam keeps an eye on Zemo. Bucky catches Zemo trying to grab that gun; closes the drawer on his hand before opening it and taking the gun away. "Nice try." Nagle tries to get away while there's only one person watching him, but Sam catches him and forces him back into his seat. With a bruising grip on the back of Zemo's neck, Bucky drags him back over to where he and Sam can both keep an eye on him. Nagle is killed in the shootout as they're trying to escape; Zemo still runs off, blows shit up, and comes back with the stolen car so he's not totally useless.

I had no problem with Zemo being the one to kill Nagle; Nagle was the worst and def had to die, and Zemo has never had an issue killing anyone. Where I took issue with this scene was Bucky and Sam being dumb enough to let Zemo wander and get his hands on a gun. Nope. Not happening.

Anyway, shootout! Explosions! Funny banter! The seat thing, which is my favorite nod to CW ever lol... And then the conversation on the plane...

"You okay?" "Yeah." Sam sighs. "Just thinking." "About how to get Sharon that pardon you dangled in front of her?" He shakes his head. "About how Nagle referred to 'The Winter Soldier Program" like it was some kind of after school club; like you weren't standing right there. And 'the American test subject' like... Like Isaiah wasn't even a real person." He turns to face Bucky, looking angry and weary. "Makes me wonder how many times... How many times are we gonna run around in the same circles before people learn? And how many people need to get crushed underfoot in the meantime?" "Did you really just equate me with Isaiah?" Bucky frowns, not sure how to react to that. "That man is a hero." Sam opens his mouth to say something, but his phone goes off and Zemo approaches at the same time, effectively cutting off their conversation.

When they get to Riga and Zemo tries to guilt trip them over Sokovia, Bucky deadpan reminds him, "Neither of us were involved in that fight." "I doubt you'd have been much help if you were." He shrugs. "Probably not. But I like to save my guilt for events I was actually present for. It's a thing." Zemo laughs. "Fair enough."

Bucky goes on his walk, and meets up with Ayo.

[bqstqnbruin]

I hate the way you’re always right

Hey y’all, here’s the next part! Sorry it’s been a hot minute, but I hope you like this! Here’s a little bit of soft smut again ??? idk who knows.

As always, this is unedited and probably riddled with types so point em out, leave em be, I’ll probably edit this tomorrow once I’m out of class knowing me but hey, somethings never change.

Read the whole series:  I hate the way you talk to me and the way you cut your hair // I hate the way you drive my car // I hate it when you stare // I hate your big dumb combat boots and the way you read my mind // I hate you so much it makes me sick, it even makes me rhyme // I hate the way you’re always right // I hate it when you lie // I hate it when you make me laugh, even worse when you make me cry // I hate it when you’re not around, and the fact that you didn’t call // But mostly I hate the way I don’t hate you, not even close, not even a little bit, not even at all

_________

“You don’t know what I mean.”

“That doesn’t even make sense.”

---------------

“On a scale of one to ten, how nervous are you?” Evelina asks, throwing herself down on your bed. The sound of the springs of your mattress makes you jump, no thanks to the nerves you didn’t want to be experiencing. 

You had been pacing your room for at least an hour, trying to figure out what to wear, how to do your hair and makeup, thinking about what was going to happen tonight. None of you should be nervous about going out with Matthew: the two of you go out together just the two of you all the time. You’re almost always with him when he’s in Calgary, give or take Evelina or Elias. So what about tonight was different?

Well, for starters, the last few times you’ve spent time alone together you were doing more than just hanging out. Why did you have to kiss him, or sleep with him, or fuck, even like him? 

“I’ll give myself a two,” you lie to her, walking to your closet to find shoes. 

She sits up, her eyebrows raised. “Babe, you’ve been walking the runway for the last hour. Gigi Hadid doesn’t strut this much but at least she gets paid for it.” 

‘Fuck her for being right,’ you think to yourself. “How’s a seven sound?” You hear her scoff, before finally sitting down next to her. “Why am I nervous?” you whine. 

She shrugs, shaking her head. “Because it’s Matthew. 

“It’s not like Matthew’s changed, though.”

“No, but you and Matthew have. You at least finally realized you like each other, and that messes with things.” 

You look down at your hands, covered with pen ink from work that day that was seemingly impossible to get off with any type of soap you had in the apartment. “What if this ruins everything?” you ask quietly, starting to feel overly emotional at the thought of losing him. 

“If you do you still have me,” she jokes, clearly not helping. “Come on. It’s Matthew. You’ve always meant the world to him. There is nothing you can do that would cause you to lose him.” 

“I hope you’re right,” you say, not looking at her. 

She pulls you up off the bed, twirling you around so she can get a full look at the dress you were in. It was one of hers, an open-backed red halter dress that came just above your knees, paired with nude heels. Simple, but elegant enough that Matthew would spend the entire night thinking about how good you look with it both on and off. “You look amazing. What time is he picking you up?”

“He should be here any minute,” you tell her, feeling yourself start to shake at how nervous you were for this. Evelina was probably right: it’s Matthew, it’s always been Matthew, and what could possibly happen that would mean you could lose him?

The two of you leave your room, grabbing your bag and your phone on your way out. You can hear the locks of the front door turning, sending a chill down your spine knowing that it was Matthew on the other side. 

“You’ll be fine,” Evelina whispers quickly as Matthew opens the door to let him in. 

Assuming you were still in your room, he starts to call, “Hey, I’m-” he cuts himself off when he lays his eyes on you. He swallows hard at the sight of you trying to find anything to say other than the “Wow,” he lets out. 

Seeing him calmed you down immediately. He had on a black button-down with black pants. It was simple, just like yours, but fuck did he look good. “Wow, yourself,” you tell him, pulling a laugh from his lips. 

He goes in to kiss you, suddenly becoming very aware that Evelina was right behind you, bouncing up and down like a child. “Ev? We’re good,” he says, hoping that it would give her the signal to leave them alone. 

“Have her home by nine, young man,” Evelina points at him, slowly backing away but refusing to break eye contact.

“Nine a.m., got it!” he says, taking you by the hand and leading you as Evelina changes course and starts to follow you.

“Wear a condom!” she yells down the hall, you and Matthew practically running away from her.

You stop in your tracks, gasping even if you were only kind of shocked that she would actually say that. “Ev!” 

“Love you!” she practically screams, slamming the door as the elevator opens.

“I can’t believe she just yelled ‘wear a condom’ down the hall! The guys next door must have loved that. Mrs. Rose is probably throwing up at the thought of premarital sex,” you start to ramble as the doors close on you and Matthew, your hands on your cheeks pulling your eyes open a little more.

He laughs, pulling you close to him, his warm hands against your back, you draping your arms on his shoulders.  “You can’t be that shocked she would say that.” He dips his head down to kiss you, finally saying hello the way he wanted to, his forehead pressed against yours as a lazy smile covers his face, “Hi, Mercury.” 

“Hi,” you whisper, wishing you had something like that to call him. Something that meant he drove you as crazy as you apparently drove him. “And no, I’m not shocked. But I guarantee that you’re going to have to wear one tonight,” you tease him.

“If that’s what you want,” he whispers, planting a kiss on the top of your head. 

Of course, that was what you wanted. He pulls away when the elevator door opens, leading you to his car. He doesn’t drop your hand until he opens the passenger side door for you. “What a gentleman,” you gush at him, half teasing him, half swooning over the simple action.

“Only for you,” he says, connecting with your lips as you try to sit down. Apparently, he couldn’t stop kissing you either. Not that you were complaining about it. You drive through the city in silence, his hand on your thigh while he drove, your hand placed over his. You stole glances at him every once in a while, the moonlight and streetlights dancing off his jawline, his eyes shining whenever light hit them. God, he looked so good. You didn’t see the glances he took at you, your enjoyment as you watched the city alive around you, watching people walk hand in hand down the street, laughing, smiling, enjoying life. 

You get to the restaurant, him rushing over to help you out of the car before you even have the chance to try to get out yourself. This was so different from the Matthew you knew a few weeks ago. 

The two of you are seated at a table in the corner, able to look at everyone around you. You sit in silence, but it’s not weird like you thought it would be. You look up from your menu to see Matthew staring at you smiling. “What?” you ask him as he reaches across the table for your hand. Why didn’t this feel weird? What about this made it feel so, you don’t know, so right?

“I’m just,” he starts, debating on whether or not he should say what he wants, “I’m just happy,” he settles on, not taking his eyes off you as a smile shows on your face, heat rushing to your cheeks. 

“Who woulda thought you’d be soft for a girl, Rat Man?” you tease him.

He runs his tongue across his upper lip, sucking in a deep breath before letting out, “Only for you, Y/N.” 

The two of you settle into mundane conversation after the waitress comes and takes your drink orders, the same sexual teasing ones that you would have with him before this whole thing started. 

“Oh, come on, you’ve always found me hot. Don’t act like you never thought about what it would be like if I pinned you against the wall every time you saw me,” he teases you.

“I think you were at your most attractive when you were far away from me.” 

“So, even when I wasn’t around you still couldn’t get me out of your mind.” 

You roll your eyes, hating that he was right. You thought about this boy a lot more than you would like to admit. “I can only think about how much I hate about you,” you say without thinking, biting the inside of your cheek.

You swear he swallows hard, taking a moment to compose himself. He hated the thought of you still writing out that list. He needed to ask Evelina how far into you were given that you had two more weeks to finish it. But he was already taking you out on a date, so is the list even worth it? Before he can send himself into a downward spiral, he says, “And yet, you’re still sitting across from me on a date.” 

He watches you look down at the table, trying to hide the smile you couldn’t help but flash. “You got me there.” 

The waitress returns with your food, both of you falling silent as you ate. Matthew couldn’t help but study your every movement, from how delicately your hands wrapped around your utensils. He couldn’t help but smile at the sight of the ink covering you, on your pinky from the way you drag your hand across the page, the random dots and streaks of ink on your nails and everywhere, probably from the way you twirled it in your fingers, knowing that you drop your pen more often than you’re able to keep in your hands the way you fidget with it. He was amazed by how he could watch you for this long without you even realizing it, so wrapped up in the scene around you while you watched with amazement. He couldn’t believe that this was finally happening, that he was there with you. 

The people around you were laughing, talking, enjoying the company of the person across from them. It felt so weird to be one of those people who could do that. You never thought you would find yourself in a situation where the person across from you would be Matthew. “Oh, I know what I wanted to tell you!” you say, breaking the silence between you, “Ev and I are going to be in LA the weekend you’re playing the Kings for a conference.” 

“So you being out with me is just a ploy to get free tickets?” he smirks. He was going to get you the tickets, even if you didn’t want them. 

“I mean, what else are you good for?” you ask as he takes your hand in his, putting it to his lips. 

You go back to eating, both of you with one hand available. You try not to go crazy when he rubs his thumb along your knuckles, tracing a circle around each one before moving to the next, back and forth across your hand. You’re interrupted in your fixation on his touch by a woman screaming with joy, the man across from her down on one knee proposing. You can’t help but smile at the happiness she was radiating, Matthew watching you instead, not realizing you were picturing yourself being proposed to at that moment. You couldn’t make out the face of the man on one knee in front of you in your mind, but something about the wild hair gave you a good idea of who it was.

Why the hell were you even thinking about that? You didn’t even think you loved this boy, let alone picturing marrying him?  

The two of you start clapping along with everyone else when she says yes, a forced smile covering your face as you try to calm yourself from the internal freakout that was manifesting. You look across the table to Matthew, his eyes wider than normal, his lips in a thin line. 

Before you can ask him what’s wrong, Matthew cuts in, “I can’t believe he just did that.” 

“What?” you ask him, slightly shocked. 

“Uh, I mean,” he starts, not sure where he was going. He could feel his face getting hot. That’s not how he would have proposed to you. ‘Wait a minute,’ he thinks to himself, ‘proposing to Y/N?’ When did he even start thinking about something like that? He could feel his breath get shorter, trying to figure out what to say. You see him getting restless, reaching over to take his hand in yours, whatever panic that was forming in him instantly going away. “It’s just weird to do it in a restaurant, you know? Surrounded by a bunch of strangers instead of the people you love.” 

You don’t know why, but your entire body tensed up at that word. Matthew keeps talking, but you don’t hear him. You look over to the couple, smiling over their news. She was crying, unable to stop herself from admiring the ring and the man she just committed her entire life to. You weren’t sure how long you had been staring, only snapping out of the trance you fixed yourself in when you felt Matthew pulling you up from the table. 

“Are you alright?” he asks you, leading you back to his car. Something in his voice had changed, the soft, sweet tone from earlier not entirely gone, but some of it was missing. 

“Yeah,” you lie to him, “I think the food is just starting to bother my stomach.”  

“Oh, uh,” he says, dropping your hand once you get to the car, his hand lingering on the handle of the passenger side door. “I guess I’ll drop you back at your place then?” he asks, running his free hand through his hair. 

You recoiled slightly at his words, not wanting to go home, but there you were. “Yeah, sure,” you say, ducking into the seat. 

The two of you ride in silence, this time uncomfortable in complete contrast to driving there. He pulls up to your building, neither of you moving from your seats. What the hell happened? Did the idea of marrying him freak you out so much that you ruined your date with him? “So, uh,” he starts, “I’ll see ya?” he asks.

You don’t pull your gaze away from your hands in your lap, biting the inside of your cheek as you nod. This was supposed to be a great night for you two. Why did that guy have to propose? It was really all his fault when you think about it. You feel Matthew’s hand grazing your jaw, his thumb tracing your cheekbone before pulling you close to him for his lips to connect with yours. You pull away, your foreheads pressed against each other, an awkward smile covering both your faces. Without another word, you get out of his car to go up to your place. 

He watches you walk away, letting out a groan. “Fucking hell,” he mutters to himself, pulling away once you get in the door.

-----------

“So it was bad?” Evelina asks, lying down on your bed next to you. You finally opened up to her about the disastrous date last night, from your freak out to ending with Matthew dropping you off at home instead of spending the night together. 

You let out a heavy sigh, your phone vibrating with texts from your boss about preparing for the conference. “Fuck, is he bothering you this much about this presentation?” you change the subject quickly. 

“Nope. Not a word from him since he said we were going. That’s not important right now.”

You let out another groan, not sure really what other noise to make. Words couldn’t describe how frustrated you were by the night you thought was going to be great. “It wasn’t,” you cut yourself off, tossing your phone aside and covering your face with your hands. “It wasn’t bad, it just wasn’t what I wanted it to be.” 

She turns over on her side, propping herself up on her elbow to look at you. “And you haven’t heard from him since last night?” Through your fingers you can see the expression she has on her face, scrunched up almost as if she was pitying you. 

Your phone buzzes, both of you lurching to see if it were him. Instead, it was your boss again. “Fuck this,” you say, throwing the phone on the floor. “I want it to be Matthew. It’s not like him not to text me all day.” 

“He left this morning for Winnipeg where they went right to practice and then to their game,” she tells you, relaying the message Elias probably gave her at some point. It still didn’t make you feel better. The game was over by now and you didn’t even know how it went. You thought he would have at least texted you, sent you a picture without context, something so you would know he didn’t hate you after last night. 

“He’ll text you. They’re probably still getting changed from the game,” Evelina tries to reassure you. “Do you want me to stay here or do you want to be alone?” 

You think about it, not sure how much good her company would do at this point. “I’m fine alone,” you decide, pulling out your laptop to find something to watch. She leaves you alone, your phone buzzing constantly with texts. After an episode of Gossip Girl, you finally check your phone to see a string of texts, all but one from your boss.

You let out a sigh of relief when you see Matthew’s message buried amongst those from your boss.

‘I’ve missed you, pretty girl. What are you up to?’

You could your heart racing for whatever reason as you tried to figure out what to respond with, your boss's name coming up again and again wondering why you weren’t answering him. ‘Moping, why?’

‘What’s wrong Mercury’

‘Work is a bitch’

You see the three dots appear and disappear from your screen. You stare at your phone, wondering why he wasn’t answering you when an incoming Facetime call shows up from him. Answering faster than you should, you felt relieved to finally see his face even if you had seen him the night before. “What happened to your cheek?” you ask immediately, referencing the noticeable gash that covered the right side of his face.

“I got the butt end of Johnny’s high stick at practice today,” he says, moving through what you assumed was his hotel.

“He probably did it on purpose, right?” you ask, a smirk on your face. You can hear his laugh echo through the hallway, the click of his door unlocking as he threw himself on his bed. “What were you doing?” 

“The guys and I were down at the bar in the lobby.”

“Oh, did you guys win today?”

He stares at you for a second, a brief moment in which you can’t read him. “You only pay attention to me when it’s convenient for you, don’t you?” he teases you, a smile growing on his face with every word. 

You let out a laugh, the memory of last night fading away. “My boss has been texting me nonstop about the work I’ve already gotten done, so I’m trying not to look at my phone.” You shift your attention away from your camera, knowing, not looking at Matthew for what you were about to say. “You know I always pay attention to you, Matthew,” you let out quietly, looking off to the side. 

He smiles at your words, letting out a sigh of relief. This list had to be over. There was no way you could still be writing it. “We did win. Shut them out. We were downstairs celebrating before we hit the road in the morning.” 

“Why aren’t you still with them! Go be with the guys!” you insist.

Matthew scoffs, shaking his head. “Nah, something was wrong with you. I had to make sure you were alright.”

“You left the guys for me?”

“I would leave anyone if it means making sure you’re ok.” You melt at his words, never thinking that he would be able to say something that would make you feel how you did. You missed him. You wished he was there with you. Before you can say anything, he starts, “I know how I can make you happy: tell me something. That always works.”

That always makes him happy.

“How about Dante’s circles of Hell so we can figure out which one my boss belongs in?” you joke, pausing the call briefly to finally respond to your boss to say that everything he had already texted you about asking you to do was finished and in his email. 

“I know about them but I like hearing you talk,” he says, a smile on his face. His end goes completely silent, no background noise, nothing, as if he had muted you. 

You try to recall the nine circles, starting to ramble in hopes it would jog your memory. “Dante Alighieri wrote the Italian poem between the years 1308 and 1320, the year before his death. It’s considered the first work written in the Italian vernacular, the Tuscan dialect, thus leading scholars to believe that this work is the reason why ‘formal Italian’ is Tuscan. He wrote it three parts, 100 cantos total, each canto with 33 lines: Inferno, Purgatorio, and Paradiso.”

You finally hear him again, his chest moving up and down rapidly, the camera shaking in his hand. “It’s so sexy when you speak in another language. Tell me about Hell,” he lets out, clearly out of breath from what you couldn’t see going on beyond the camera. 

You start, your mind suddenly flashing back to that day at the package store, roaming through the aisles of alcohol with his hands leaving a burning touch on your body. “The first circle is Limbo. It’s where the unbaptized and virtuous pagans go. It’s like having a tv and only getting a channel like C-SPAN on every station,” you tell him, waiting for his response. His mouth is open slightly, no sound coming from him. You close your eyes, thinking of his hand in your back pocket that day, the way his fingers tensed on your ass. 

You swallow hard, your breath getting slightly shallow as you continue. “The second circle is,” you stop, knowing that you would be right in this circle as you extended your free hand down. You knew exactly what he was doing the same thing, his eyes closing every now and then, the camera shaking as you thought about his body against yours the night after the charity event. “Is lust. Anyone controlled by their hormones.”

His eyes snap open, his voice shaking as you finally hear him again: “I guess we’ll go to the second circle together?” You bite your lip, nodding at him. “Third circle,” he demands, going back to his work as he thought you in the black dress, fitting your form perfectly, every thread, every stitch, waiting to be ripped off you.

“Gluttony: habitual greed or excessive eating, especially at the expense of others,” you tell him. You think about that dry-fit shirt he wore, every muscle he had accented in the fabric as your other hand moved faster. His camera was shaking, his chest moving up and down rapidly. Part of you was surprised he hadn’t gotten there yet. “Circle four is greed: hoarding money, and goods.”

  “Five,” he chokes out, a moan following that he cut off by muting himself. 

“Five was,” you say, gasping, “Five was anger, spending their time in hell waging war against each other.” Your eyes screw shut, hoping you could get through four more. “Unmute yourself,” you demand of Matthew.

His eyes practically pop out of his head. “Unmute yourself,” you tell him again, slowly, each syllable emphasized as he watched your eyes get ever so slightly darker. He nods, doing as you ask, now able to hear his heavy breathing. “Six was heresy,” you let out, low and slow.

Matthew gasps, getting up a little as a signal that he was finished, despite you having more circles to go through. “Don’t move yet,” you say to him, not wanting him to until you could. “Those in that circle believe in religions other than Dante’s: Christianity. Seven is violence, divided further into three levels: murderers, suicide victims, and blasphemers.” You can practically feel the memory of his lips as they would have been connecting with your body, right behind your ear. 

“Tell me circle eight, pretty girl,” Matthew whispers, a lazy smile on his face as you get close to your climax. The sight of him your first night together, every inch of him as he entered you for that perfect night.

“Eight is,” you try to get out. You stop, feeling nothing and everything going through your body as you practically scream out, “Fraud.” You look at him, trying to steady your breath even though he could see your chest rising and falling as rapidly as his was before, a smile covering his face. “Nine is treachery. A frozen wasteland where those doomed to that final circle spend eternity with Satan himself. 

You both sit there in silence, catching your breath. You see Matthew finally able to adjust himself, a small laugh escaping his lips at the mess that was over the once pristine sheets. He smirks, happy that you could hear each other for the last bit, neither of you guessing you were thinking of the other the entire time.  “I told you I could make you happy, huh?” 

You take in a deep breath, trying to stabilize yourself, getting up to change quickly. “I would be happier if I didn’t have to do it myself,” you tease him. 

“Trust me: I would do anything to be there with you right now.” 

You smile at him, letting out a yawn. “I’m gonna go to bed, babe,” you say, slightly recoiling at the idea of calling him babe. “Talk to you tomorrow?” 

He nods. “I-” you start to hear him say, accidentally cutting him off by hanging up just too soon. He couldn’t have been saying much, but you send him a text saying sorry for it. “Love you,” he breathes out, wishing you heard him finally say how he felt about you.