#the PROBLEM IS i have never slept normal since high school!

[marigoldbaker]

have started regularly having enough food in the house instead of ?????? (i don't know what was happening before the last few weeks) so i think the next thing i would like to do is not stay up until 8am on every work day for literally no reason. thanks

[timetoletmyimaginationfly]

Promises I Intend To Keep 3

Nanami Kento x Reader

Previous Next

Song: End of Beginning by Djo

Nanami’s eyes never left the screen of his computer. He listened to the familiar footsteps inside his office. He didn’t have to look up to know it was his high school friend, Haibara Yu.

“Anything?” Nanami asked. Haibara shook his head with a frown. His frown deepened when Nanami slammed his fist on his desk hard. “It’s been 9 years!”

“We’ll find her,” he said swiftly. Nanami just nodded, eyes remaining on the chord bracelet you gave him years ago. “Are you sure she’s still in Japan though?”

“Yes,” Nanami said as the two walked to the parking garage. “She was sent up north, hours away from where we lived. My mother paid an absurd amount of money for their house.” Haibara nodded.

“Her father passed away five years ago,” he mentioned.

“He was involved in a car accident. His fault though since he was drinking. God, it was all I’ve seen him do.”

“You met the man?” Haibara asked curiously. Nanami nodded.

“He was always nice around me,” he answered. Haibara nodded and flipped through the files in hand.

“You never saw her in Todai.” Nanami shook his head. “I’ll do more investigating. Unless you need me to do something else? I think we’re caught up on schedule with meetings and what not.”

“Find her. Please.” Nanami’s voice softened at the end with vulnerability.

“I won’t disappoint. I’ll call Gojo-san and Geto-san.

“Tell Geto-san to help out when he’s done interviewing the new recruits. Have him send me the files immediately once he’s done.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Thank you, Yu.”

“No problem, Kento.”

Nanami watched Haibara leave the office first. He stared at the chord bracelet on his left wrist. He remembered you putting it on him. A night where his mother was out of town and you slept over while she was away. He checked his phone. Old photos from before that he never got rid of. Photos of you and him before you left. The smile on your face that gave him constant motivation to find you. The smile he has been longing to see for the past 9 years.

“I’ll find you, sweetheart. I promise.”

He sticks to his normal routes around Tokyo. He refuses to explore more and find a whole bunch of new restaurants and stores. He needed you around. He wanted to get lost with you like he planned to years ago. He parked at another parking garage to quickly grocery shop before he went back home.

He can’t help but to always remember the times when his mother was out on business trips and the two of you would grocery shop together. You were always determine to cook him dinner. And he was always eager to help you.

“Wait! I promise! This will taste good!” you exclaimed as you tried to add Cajun seasoning to the Alfredo sauce. Nanami laughed, gently and slowly letting you go. “Okay, a little bit at a time won’t hurt.” You gave him a small spoonful to try and Nanami nodded with approval.

“Fine, put more.”

“Told you so, Kento!”

“You’re here. I know you’re here,” he kept muttering to himself. He looked back at his phone, finding you in places that he ever thought he would see you.

He was used to the stares. It was like high school except this time it was around the world. Everyone knew who he was. A young and successful CEO of 7:3 Security at the age of 27 that he built from the ground up. A man with ambition. His goal to make it to the top so he could find you.

“Nanami-san, can we have an autograph?” Nanami gave the group of females a small smile and nodded. He signed their small note pads before giving them a bow before walking away.

He grabbed a cart, starting off in the produce section of the store. He made mental checks of everything that he needed for home. Onions. Garlic. Pepper. Potatoes. You name it. But his mind went blank. The familiar chime that he loves to hear years ago.

“That’s such great news! I think you’ll get the job, Shoko.” His ears perked. He was sure of that voice. He looked around, but the grocery store was crowded. “I mean, as long as I’m allowed to just sit around and hang out I’ll stop by every now and then. Ieiri Shoko, quit being nervous. You’ll get the job.”

He shook his head. He had to be hearing things. It was almost too easy. His eyes wandered until they landed on a woman on the phone. His eyes remained on her. He really looked at her. The features he studied everyday, there was no doubt that it was you. He abandoned his shopping cart, striding his way towards you. But he suddenly stopped when a a male of average height and dark hair approached you. He raised an eyebrow. He knew him. And you knew him. You smiled and spoke happily to him. He felt a quick and tight squeeze in his heart. But nonetheless, he approached you two.

“Higuruma-san,” Nanami called. Higuruma looked up, his aloof expression mirroring Nanami’s as he nodded in response.

“Nanami-san,” Higuruma responded. You turned to look up at Nanami. You didn’t know how to explain it. Your heart was suddenly racing while an intense feeling coursed through your body. Your mouth felt dry, your body also numb.

And Nanami saw you. He paid attention to your reaction. The dumbfounded and puzzled expression you held. He never expected it unless his appearance changed throughout the years. But he knew he didn’t change much, just like you. Softly, he called your name. And your eyes widened. You bowed deeply.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Nanami-san,” you said softly with your soft smile. His heart stopped.

Meet?

“You two know each other?” Higuruma asked. Nanami nodded but you shook your head. It only made Nanami frown.

“You’re…familiar,” you admitted slowly. You knew you did. You had a good feeling that you do know. Nanami nodded and cleared his throat. His eyes scanned you again. The golden, infinity necklace remained around your neck and the diamond ring he gave remained on your left finger. He felt a bit relieved.

“We went to the same high school,” Nanami answered. You giggled.

“We did?” Nanami nodded.

“But you moved.” You felt a hard tug on your chest and Nanami caught the split second of your pained expression. It was as if he could feel your pain. It urged him to hold you, but he knew that he couldn’t at the moment. He watched you give him a small yet soft smile.

“I heard you hired Hiromi-kun as your defense attorney,” you said brightly.

Hiromi-kun…

“Good choice, Nanami-san. He’s one of the best.” Nanami gave you a tight smile and nodded.

“Yes,” Nanami said and looked at Higuruma. He hated the affectionate look Higuruma was giving you. He respected the man, but, at this moment, he couldn’t respect him. “Top of Japan.” Higuruma nodded.

“Thank you, Nanami-san.” A phone suddenly rang. Higuruma suddenly took a step to the side and answered his call. “I’ll be right back, sweetie.” You nodded before turning back to Nanami.

Sweetie…

“You two are…?”

“Ah, h-he just calls me that,” you said nervously as you fiddled with your ring. “When I moved, he became my only friend in high school. When I came to Tokyo, he hired me on the spot as a secretary at his office.” He felt relieved. But it bugged him to not know your feelings for him. He could easily see it through Higuruma.

“Just friends?” he blurted out. He mentally winced at himself.

“Just friends,” you said reassuringly with a smile. You had a far away look, leaving Nanami mesmerized. “He reminds me of someone important. You know what? You two remind me of each other. It’s almost like a coincidence.” You giggled. Nanami softly smiled. You felt a hand on your shoulder and you turned around to see Higuruma.

“My client wants to meet right now,” he said. “You’ll be alright?” You nodded.

“I’m okay. Thank you, Hiromi-kun,” you replied. Higuruma gave you a soft smile before looking at Nanami expressionlessly.

“I’ll see you around,” Higuruma said. Nanami nodded.

“You as well,” he replied. The two of you watched him walk out of the store. You turned back to Nanami. His eyes were soft and warm, making you feel warm as well. You felt your heart race that you almost felt dizzy.

“Maybe I’ll see you again one day,” you said. You were about to walk away when he didn’t respond, but Nanami immediately reached out to you and held your arm. You inaudibly gasped. The warmth of his hand felt so familiar, warm, and safe. It made your thoughts go haywire.

How will it feel to be wrapped in his arms?

“T-The necklace and ring. They look beautiful on you.” Your cheeks turned pink. The compliment coming from him. It didn’t seem like it was said to be polite because he is the CEO.

“Thank you, Nanami-san,” you said with a soft smile. “I don’t remember who gave them to me. But, I know deep down that it’s the most important things I have. Is that strange?” Nanami felt his heart skip a beat that he smiled.

“Not at all,” he said softly. He loves the blush on your cheeks, knowing that he was the only one able give you that effect. Back then and right now. Not Hiromi Higuruma. Just Nanami Kento.

And you enjoy his presence. All you want to do is to spend more time with him.

“Want to grocery shop together?” you asked curiously. So yes, you decided to keep him around. Nanami chuckled.

“I would love to. Follow me. My cart is over there. What do you need to get?”

“Ingredients for Cajun chicken and broccoli Alfredo.” His heart skipped a beat.

“That’s my favorite.”

“Mine too! It’s one of the best meals I can cook, Nanami-san!” It bothered Nanami to no end. It felt too easy. Finding you was too easy. But as it was, he found you a challenge. Not knowing who he is just became that extra obstacle he needed to take care of.

“So…you don’t remember me?” he asked. You shook your head. “I guess since there’s a bunch of us at the high school.” You nodded.

“Ever since I got into a car accident, things have been different,” you said as you picked up items for dinner.

“Car accident?” Nanami questioned, worry evident in his voice. Again, you felt a skip of your heartbeat.

“Five years ago,” you answered. “It killed my father. It was a pretty bad accident and the doctors and nurses were surprised that I survived. I couldn’t remember anything at first, but memories were slowly coming back. But I know they’re not all back. I can feel it.”

“I’m sorry that happened.”

“And it sucks because I don’t even remember where I actually grew up. I don’t know where my mom is or where I got the jewelry. And this note. I have the most encouraging note and it makes me love the person who wrote it.” You don’t know why you were telling Nanami this. It felt so easy to tell him. “I’m sorry, I’m ranting so much about it.”

“N-No, it’s okay. I don’t mind,” he said. You gave him a shy laugh. “What made you come to Tokyo?”

“I just knew that I needed to go to Tokyo. I paid off the loans that my father owed and refused to pay, quit my job at the cafe, signed up to Todai, and got a job with Hiromi-kun before I left. I have a purpose here. I just know it.”

“If you need help, I’m willing to help.” You blushed again.

“I-I appreciate it, Nanami-san. But I should be okay.” He nodded in response. His mind was still swirling with the fact that you were right here next to him. It felt both like a dream yet a nightmare. You didn’t know him. You forgot about him.

“At least let me drive you back to your place,” he said.

“I live close by, Nanami-san.” It frustrated him, feeling useless as usual. “But, I would love one! I am pretty tired. Thank you so much.”

The car ride was quiet but you liked the silence. It felt comforting. You gave him the quick directions to your apartment building. You felt hesitant once he parked at the front. He felt compelling. It was like your body had a mind of its own that you couldn’t leave his side. Your heart was racing.

“Is everything okay?” he asked worriedly. You nodded.

“It’s just…I—Come over for dinner? Since you drove me home, it’s the least I can do. If you have the time, of course. Maybe a rain check on it? You’re a busy man and all,” you blabbered. You blushed and felt very flustered from your sudden request. You shyly stared at your lap as you rotated the ring on your finger.

“We’ll do a raincheck,” he replied softly. “I want to try that Alfredo dish you’re planning to make.” You looked at him with wide eyes. A smile appeared on your face and you nodded.

“Yeah! I can do that! I-I’ll see you soon, Nanami-san!”

You grabbed your bags from the back. With one last wave, you entered the building. He waited until he couldn’t see your figure. You were safe. You were okay. And for that, he can rest easy for now. Immediately, he pulled his phone out. He dialed Haibara’s number.

“I need hospital information from her five years ago,” Nanami ordered.

“Yes boss. Geto-san sent you the files of the best candidates, as well.”

“Perfect. By the way, you guys don’t have to search for her.”

“Oh? Why not?” Haibara heard a soft chuckle from his end.

“I found her.”

“Kento! That’s great news!”

“It is but…she doesn’t remember me,” Nanami confessed. “She was involved in the car accident with her father. She admitted to memory loss.” He heard a sigh from his friend.

“Alright boss. I’ll get on it after dinner if that’s alright.”

“Of course. There’s no rush.” Nanami went through the files. A certain name popped up that caught his attention. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Nanami immediately dialed the number. At the same time, he watched a woman with long brunette hair, straight navy blue slacks, a blue turtle neck, and low heeled shoes stop at the front entrance.

“Nanami Kento of 7:3 Security. May I speak to Ieiri Shoko?” He mentally chuckled to see the shock on the woman’s face.

“This is her,” she said a little too quickly and excitedly.

“I would like to offer you a job at the company. You will be receiving full benefits by the time you start working. Vacation and sick time is fixed and resets every year—-“

“I would love to accept the offer, Nanami-san!” Nanami mentally chuckled.

“Perfect. You can call or text me back from this number. I will send you onboarding paperwork through email and you can email everything back to along with questions that pop up to mind.”

“Y-Yes, sir! Thank you so much! I promise you, I will not disappoint you!” Nanami softly chuckled.

“Alright. Have a goodnight, Ieiri-san.”

Shoko immediately dialed a number on her phone. The sound of your name escaped her lips rather loudly before she entered the building. Nanami smiled. Did he become biased? He didn’t care at this point.

[maaskuline]

OK SO. i wanted to go in depth about Johnny's sexuality here so i'm gonna ramble about it :]

(warning though, i am gonna talk about some lightly sexual topics here! nothing super detailed abt it tho)

as of right now, and depending on whoever he's being rp'ed with since there's no real set "canon" for this blog, Johnny currently has NO clue that he's actually gay, and genuinely believes himself to be straight. other people could potentially be able to spot it in him more easily than he himself can, and they can even bring it up and tease him for it if they want to—and i enjoy when he gets anons about it! but the thing is, the teasing of his sexuality (even if it IS in good fun and well-intentioned) is only going to make him all the more defensive about it. the more somebody tells him he's in denial, the more he's just going to bury it deep inside him. mostly bc he's stubborn and highly insecure, and if he feels like he's being laughed at for it, then he's simply not going to confront it the way he needs to.

this is also because Johnny has been bullied over this exact thing plenty of times before. it's not really all that new to him. he's more than likely had people call him gay before, particularly by high school bullies when he was younger. he's probably been called the F-slur more times than he can count, even been violently attacked—unfortunately, that's just what a lot of teenage boys do to each other. so even when a more well-intentioned person (even someone who may be queer themselves) calls him out on his own sexuality or lightheartedly teases him for it, that's only gonna bring back those memories of being harassed by school bullies, and make him deny it even more. it's just something he needs to figure out on his own terms, at his own speed.

in terms of his relations with women, though? Johnny HAS been with women before, at least like hook-ups & one-night stands and such. not so much actual committed relationships—or if he has, they're brief. it's actually confirmed by the series creator himself that Johnny DOES get women, but only off-screen bc seeing him succeed wouldn't be as funny for viewers, and that's something i wanted to explore more in my depiction of him!

so that is to say, Johnny is sexually active. and he continues to sleep with women, despite the fact that he's not actually attracted to them deep down. but to him, that lack of attraction simply does not fully register in his brain—he believes that's NORMAL. because what other reference does he have to go off of? he's never slept with another man before in his life. so he wouldn't know how much he'd actually enjoy it because he's never tried it. but he does know that if he DID, he'd likely be judged for it, and so he simply shuts that very idea out of his mind. the idea of sleeping with a man just isn't even a possibility to him for that reason alone. and so... he just settles with women instead. that's the "safer" option to him, and to some extent he's still getting his sexual / physical needs met, even if it's by people who he's not fully attracted to.

but the main problem is not so much about meeting his SEXUAL needs (although that's certainly a part of it too)—it's moreso about meeting his EMOTIONAL needs. Johnny can have as many one-night stands as he wants, but none of it really means anything to him. that's why they're one-night stands; they're just one night. and then he can just move on to the next woman.

really, Johnny is desperate to find a long-term girlfriend (or partner in general). he has all these one-night stands, and he fears commitment, but he still craves it deep down. to Johnny, flirting and sleeping around with various women all the time pretty much IS his way of seeking out a girlfriend.

but what he doesn't realize is that he's only shooting himself in the foot by doing that. it's a self-fulfilling prophecy! he'll hook up with a woman, and then move on to the next woman, and the cycle will only continue to repeat. but what kind of message do you think that sends to the women?

maybe there's SOME that won't mind his flirtatious ways too much—everyone has different preferences after all—but for those who are actually looking for a long-term connection, it's not exactly a good look when the guy you're interested in is still "keeping his options open," and moving on so easily at the drop of a hat. if a woman decides to break things off with him at any moment? he won't care that much. or if he does, he's quick to pick himself back up and move along. there's plenty of fish in the sea.

but that's not to say that it's IMPOSSIBLE for Johnny to have a real, emotional connection with a woman. for instance... he could still establish a friendship with them. it just might be harder for him, since he's typically going to resort to flirting and romance by default. general rule of thumb is: if a woman is close enough to him in age (20s - 30s), he's going to flirt with her like 90% of the time. in a way, he kinda feels like he HAS to—like that's just what is expected of him. or at least what he expects of himself, anyway. and of course, it's gonna be hard to establish a purely platonic friendship with Johnny if he's actively flirting and trying to turn it into something more. so while it's not impossible, female friends are still going to be much harder for Johnny to come by.

that said—in the instance where Johnny IS able to establish a real friendship with a woman, even that can only exacerbate the problem regarding his sexuality. after all, it's the emotional connection he's seeking deep down, right? so, if he feels like he can truly connect with a woman on a platonic basis... yeah, he's gonna feel the need to turn it into something romantic. he's gonna mistake the signs of FRIENDSHIP, as ATTRACTION—because, truthfully, he has a hard time distinguishing between the two. if a woman has the capacity to be his friend, then surely she also has the capacity to be his girlfriend, right...?

well, that's where Johnny is completely clueless—because he's never had experience with a real, long-term relationship. he doesn't really know WHAT he actually wants out of a relationship, only that he wants one. and yet, despite that desire for romance, he continues to play himself by overcompensating for his insecurities by putting on this sort of "womanizing macho man" front, and thereby pushing away the women he pursues. y'know... as if he needs to "PROVE" to others just how much he loves women... (you see what i'm getting at?)

[doublydaring]

the great thing about gender is that you can do anything at any time and there's absolutely no way to be yourself incorrectly. the point of life is trying things and seeing what makes you happy, and what makes you happy is probably going to change a lot! but also if it doesn't that's a learning experience too! sending love <3

first of all anon, bless your heart.

bizarre rant with way too much personal information below the cut. SORRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRY!

second, because at the ripe old age of zero years old i was a wise old sage with a level headed autism that put me perfectly at the intersection of considerate and above the petty worries of the world i have been telling forlorn transgenders this over the phone since day one (no joke someone I hadn't spoken to in five years called me up the other day to have me talk them through softening their transition, its okay to be nonbinary guys) but ack! sometimes its so hard to take your own advice.

I have gained some weight in the last year or so and I just can't seem to get over me looking ooooh just so slightly off, to me, like I feel like I don't look like myself. I don't know.

Testosterone's largest impact on my life was it's role as an appetite stimulant, before I started testosterone I lived in a constant state of nausea, and it basically cured me of that. It was huge instead of going to bed anxious every night that I was going to throw up I slept like a baby, it also helped me to start working through the main symptoms of my ARFID. I literally called it a miracle drug to so many people, it changed my life.

But! I don't know if I still want to be on it. It's been almost three years and I've suddenly started having problems with my dosage, I've been off and on it trying to figure things out and I don't know, it just got me thinking, what if I don't want to do this anymore.

I do look different than I used to, or at least I think I do. I feel like I don't look like myself. I don't know.

Part of me feels like I'm just giving up, because transitioning socially has been very difficult for me. Female terms feel comforting in their familiarity, masculine ones always feel deliberate and effortful. I want to be beautiful, I want to be desirable. Does going off testosterone simply represent a submission to societal pressure, to finally giving in and trying to be normal.

In my junior year of high school I had a crush on a blond man. I had no chance with him, he was tall and gorgeous and smart and rich and a senior and it just was not happening, but I sort of put a pause on my transition that year as I got to know him, and tried to be more feminine, more conventionally attractive. It didn't work. I am not that. I cannot be that. I can't! It is something that I am not capable of, it is something I have never been capable of. I feel like as soon as I hit puberty it was over for me. I got gross. And that's terrible, that's so terrible, that's a terrible thing to feel and a terrible way to think but I cannot help it because I feel like that is the input that I am receiving from the outside world. I just had this conversation with a couple of friends but it really is ethnic trauma. My mother got a nose job at 14 and extensive laser hair removal to dull her ethnic traits, traits that she then passed on to me, traits that were amplified by my dad's genetics, traits that she implicitly taught me were ugly and undesirable and needed to be changed. And then I had the nerve to be autistic too, pick a struggle, really.

WHATEVER basically I am fucking fiending for sexual validation from cis men that I am too cowardly to actually go out and get so instead I'm just going to bitch and moan on here. I am not going to detransition because their is nothing to detransition back to, I was never a girl, but so much of me wishes I could be, I want more desperately than anything to be a beautiful and desirable woman. I thought because I couldn't cut it as a girl I should try being a boy but I don't know, it feels unnatural. A bitch needs to get on estrogen or SOMETHING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[novemberdrift]

𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚙 |𝚜𝚙𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚡 𝚏𝚎𝚖 𝚗𝚘𝚗 𝚋𝚒𝚗𝚊𝚛𝚢 𝚘𝚌

authors note: you’ll notice i changed the timing of things, but i had to for it to work for the story. summary: they have a crush on one of their best friends, spider, what happens when they see spider with some chick at the festival, they spend time awkwardly avoiding him, until the party. as they run away from the cops, they hurt their ankle, and spider takes care of them. words: 4.7k

“fuck my life” rowan groaned, aggressively rolling over and pulling the blanket over their face to shield them from the sun entering through the windows. 

“ow what the hell” ant grumbled, rubbing his head after they had hit it by accident. he yawned, stretched out, before looking at his alarm clock. “it’s 8:10, rowan. we have to get up or we’ll be late for school.”

“wow okay mr responsible, since when do you care about being on time?” they joked, knowing how rebellious ant has been in the past few weeks. 

“hey, i’m responsible” he throws back, before getting up and pulling the comforter off the bed, leaving rowan curled around pillows. as he starts to get ready, changing into cleaner clothes, they finally start to wake themself up. 

“honestly, i don’t feel like going in today” rowan shrugs watching as he puts on a sweatshirt. “i really don’t want to see spider..”

ant turns around, and slouches dramatically. “dude, no way you’re going to skip school just because spider slept with some whore at the festival. and you know what? it probably meant absolutely nothing” he said comfortingly.

“i just don’t get it, one minute he’s super sweet and holding my drink so it doesn’t get spiked, then he’s pashing some slut who has her tits out.” rowan calms, feeling disappointed in themself for letting a guy get to them. they’ve never felt like this before, in all honesty it’s typically the opposite way around. 

rowan’s definitely gotten around, but to be fair it’s hard not to when you go to hartley high. i mean they’ve even slept with their own bestfriend, who happens to be right infront of them. they both agreed it didn’t mean anything, and was just some fun, but it did make them closer.

“i think you should forget about it, okay? he’s literally an idiot, and that’s coming from me” 

“but you’re also an idiot.” rowan chuckles, pulling on some black baggy jeans. they look around, and start pulling out stuff from their bag. “fuck i didn’t bring an extra shirt, can i borrow one?”

“uh of course??” ant draws out his words to make it more dramatic. he digs around in his closet, looking for one that rowan’s worn before. “hows this?” he asks, holding up the one with a sunflower and bee on it. 

“absolutely perfect!” rowan puts on the shirt, and huffs, grabbing their bag, and digging out the side pocket for their car keys. “are we stopping for breakfast orrrr?”

“i think my moms made pancakes?” he says in a questioning tone, opening his bedroom door and smelling the hallway. “yes, yes she has.” he laughs.

____

“god your mom makes the best pancakes” rowan starts moaning, causing ant to laugh which therefore makes her laugh. 

“god save it for the sex you’re going to have this term” he jokes, snickering as rowan pulls into the parking lot. 

as they get out, rowan can already see spider and dusty from here. they’re having a quick chat with one of the basketball guys. they glance around the lot, also seeing darren and quinni. 

quinni starts to jump up and down seeing rowan. they wave to eachother before she goes back to whispering with darren. quinni and rowan had been friends for a few years, meeting at the extra help room in middle school.

they’ve always had problems with adhd and focusing, making it hard to be in a class with loud and disruptive classmates. unfortunately in highschool, they just have to suck it up and wear headphones most days. 

“you got this” ant whispers in their ear, while holding onto their arm as normal. ant is big into physical touch which means he’s constantly holding rowan. 

“hey guys!” he calls out, earning grins from the guys. 

“hey rowan! see you at ants tomorrow night?” dusty asks, curiously wondering if they would be there to play video games. 

“oh hell yeah, i still have to kick your ass!” they giggle.

“oh? is that ant’s shirt?” he points out, giving you a face. spider finally snapped out of his staring at the ground. his eyebrow raised, as he inspected their outfit. “are you sure you aren’t sleeping together?” dusty wonders outloud.

“n- we are” ant shakes his head as he speaks, throwing his arms up like he’s been caught. 

spiders eyes widen. “what? really?”

“no idiot. we’re friends. i love this fucker but i’d never sleep with him a second time” now that confession makes his eyes widen even more. he quickly shakes his head, and calms himself.

“wow, knew you were a slut, but your best friend? damnn” spider snickers, before realizing that sounded less like a joke and more like an incredibly rude insult. 

ant’s jaw drops, and dusty looks like he’s unsure whether or not to laugh. 

“well aren’t you sweet.” rowan says scoffing, before adjusting her backpack and walking off, towards quinni and darren. 

“bro, that is totally not how you get rowan to like you.” dusty slaps the back of spiders head out of disappointment. 

“no really, that is not cool, even for you.” ant says, rolling his eyes.

“i didn’t mean to.” the blonde shrugged, “thought it was a funny joke.”

“don’t lie, you’re just jealous.” ant walks off in rowans direction.

all of a sudden, his thoughts are interrupted by a younger student. “OI! there’s a fully-gacked sex map in the old stairwell!!”

“what?”

“sex map?”

all of a sudden, everyone is rushing towards the stairwell, completely disregarding that class was starting in a few minutes. spider finds himself running at a quicker speed then most.

all he can hear is screaming, heavy footsteps and panting as other people find their way to the map. “oh shit” he lets out, his eyes wandering to his own name first. quinni, saska and suzie cho. two of those weren’t true, he had made those up to his mates almost 7 months ago, and suzie cho was only a blowie. he groaned internally now knowing that they would know that he was lying.

“what in the kids helpline?” darren looks bewildered.

“no!!”

“a wristy!”

“everyone whos fucked everyone”

“couldn’t walk for three days, that’s true” spider laughs, watching as ant dabs up dusty.

“cum queen!”

“jenny got fisted, holy shit” spiders eyes wander more and more.

“oh shit, darren jerked you off? nice bro, you into dudes now? spider questions. 

rowan turns in his direction, and pushes back spider a bit, feeling offended for darren. “who says i’m a dude?” “why didn’t you tell us?”

he laughs it off, then faltering. he sees rowan in black sparkly letters, then he notices the lines connecting to their name, all of the lines. 

sasha, zoe clarke, nathan white, ant, cash, tilly, and suzie cho. wait, he bent down to look at the small writing under their name. and two private school boys.

he felt a turn in his stomach, having to clutch it. something about knowing everyone they’ve had sex with, hurt him. he saw them go closer to the wall, finger running against the lines of the people connected to them. “what the fuck” rowan let out, before then standing on a stool that they dragged out from the corner.

 “this is not true!” they shout, pointing at the line connecting them to cash. they grabbed a marker from their backpack and drew over it. cash and rowan were in a hidden relationship for around 5 months but things just weren’t working out, tons of communication issues. rowan still loved him, platonically, almost like a brother in a way. 

after drawing over the line, rowan steps back, walking into spider on accident. they take a deep breath, and suddenly in seconds, there’s tears welling in their eyes. “guess you’re right. i’m just a slut”

____

“can the following students please meet at classroom 5D. Amerie Wadia, Harper McLean, Sasha So, Missy Beckett, Dustin Reid, Spencer White, Anthony Vaughn and Rowan Yearwood, Darren Rivers, Quinn Gallagher-John, Douglas Piggott, Malakai Mitchell.”

“welcome, welcome” rowan walks by the principal entering the class. there’s multiple tables scattered around the room, and suddenly they see ant waving them over. 

“what the fuck is this” rowan questions, seeing everyone come in and sit down. 

“punishment probably” dusty shrugs.

“map bitch!” spider shouts towards amerie. 

“so.. cemetery tonight?” rowan asks, looking towards the guys.

“yeah boy”

“hell yeah”

“oi, uh whats the cemetery?” darren asks.

“well it’s-” 

“none ya biz, bongwater.” spider spits, looking them up and down.

“it’s just a party thing.” they clarified, sending a gentle smile towards darren, before ignoring spider. 

“okay, settle down. thank you.” ms woodsy’s attempt to silence everyone wasn’t working very well.

the woman standing at the front takes a deep breath. “hi, everyone. i’m miss joesphine obah, but you can call me jojo. it’s kind of like yo-yo but j.” she chuckled, before clearing her throat. “i’m an english teacher, so i know some of you.” she nodded in rowan’s direction.

“but i’m sure you’re all wondering why you’re here.. well your names were on the map in the stairwell. the one that’s out of bounds.”

a boy up front sitting next to amerie raises his hand out of confusion. and finally rowan begins to question who he is. they whisper in ants direction, asking if he’s seen him before. 

“uhm, what map?” the new kid asks.

“okay, very funny, look peeps, we’re not dumb. we know a lot of you are sexually active, but we’re concerned this map demonstrates a real lack of respect for one another when it comes to sexual relationships. so we want to address it head on..”

the new teacher, miss josephine went on about the new class and how it aims to give the students information about sex and intimacy. rowan wasn’t paying much attention, they were looking at spider, still upset about the comment he made to them earlier. how could he say something like that? did he really think it was some funny joke?

he then stood ontop of the table and started chanting “sluts, sluts, sluts” thrusting himself near ant.

“oh brother.” rowan shook their head, and started focusing on the teachers again. 

“i think we should do the handshake game.”

“that’s not the best one to start with”

“all right everybody.. up!” woodsy shouted. “okay now clear these tables to the side please. thank you, now i want you all to start walking around the room. come onn, walking!!”

rowan started walking, listening to everyones chatter. “now i want you to choose three other people to start shaking hands with.. shaking, shake, good, you know how to shake.”

rowan first shook hands with ant, it sort of became a bro hug, then they walked past dusty, making sure to give a good shake with him too. spider came around them and held his hand out with a gentle smile, almost as a way to apologize. 

rowan scoffed, and shook hands with quinni. 

“and, stop.” everyone stood straight up, and still. “spencer, you have genital crabs.” people started laughing at that. 

“checks out.” darren shrugged. “yeah i’m not surprised, he is a bit of a slut” rowan added on avoiding spiders eyes. more laughter.

“not in real life, thank you darren and rowan for the purposes of this game.” “put your hand up spencer, hand up, spencer, now!” “now everyone that shook hands with spencer, hands up.”

dusty, and ants hands raised up high. “now, shook hands with them.” rowans hand went up too, followed by more people, then more. “you all have genital warts.”

rowan snickered, as malakai spoke. “i thought it was crabs.”

a little while later, the bell rung and rowan went to go sit on the rocks near the edge of the school, eating their lunch that ant’s mom had made for them. veggies, fruit, and a sandwich. cash came by and they talked a bit, about the map, until it got a bit serious. 

“i did something really bad.” he admits, grimacing already. 

“what did chook make you do.” were the first words out of rowans mouth.

“okay-well, i technically didn’t do anything myself, but that’s the problem..”

“oh god cash, just tell me.” rowan pleaded, scared for one of their best friends.

“i-i, i was driving a car.. after the festival and-d in the back, chook was groping someone.. she was so drunk and i think he drugged her.”

“holy shit.” rowans eyes widened.  “is she okay now? was she underage? who was it?” they began to panic. 

“...harper.” cash’s voice wavers. “i don’t know why i didn’t help sooner, all i did was unlock the car door when we were at the gas station. i tried to talk to her after slts, but she told me to fuck off. i don’t know what to do.” his eyes began to well. 

rowan took a few deep breaths, before grabbing him tightly, and pulling him into a hug. “fuck man.. you need to distance yourself from them.. but i’m proud of you okay? you probably just saved that girl from being raped.” they took a second. “i’d avoid her for a bit, she could think you’re just as bad as them, maybe even scared of you.”

he nodded along. “okay, okay.” 

“maybe i’ll try and talk to her.” rowan shrugs, knowing that harper could probably use some comfort, especially considering the weird girl fight happening between her and amerie. 

“thank you, rowan.” cash hugs them tight, trying not to cry.

“hey, hey, it’s okay cashy.” feeling him tremble, starts to make them cry as well.

fucking spider.

spider, dusty and ant walk out of the gymnasium laughing about the basketball practice. spider had absolutely kicked ass, and the new kid was on the floor, holding his ankle. 

“i knew he was shit.” spider snickered, getting a highfive from dusty. 

ant checked his phone, seeing no message from rowan. they were all a bit surprised when they hadn’t shown up to watch practice, it was a normal thing they did together. “have you guys talked to rowan in the last little bit? they haven’t replied to my messages.” ant frowned.

“nope.” dusty said, popping the ‘p’. spider scratched the back of his neck. 

“is she-” “sorry, are they, still upset at me? they wouldn’t shake my hand when we were in sex jail.”

“i mean what you said was pretty fucking rude.” ant glares at him. “like, jeez, glad they returned the favour and called you a slut infront of everyone.” 

spider threw his hands in the air. “i’m such a fucking idiot.” with mutual agreements from the other boys. “can’t believe i fucked everything up because.. ugh.” he groaned.

“because you were jealous at the thought of me and rowan boning.” ant jokingly smirked. “but really, it meant nothing, we were just drunk and thought it would be funny.” “that was awhile ago too, we’re like practically family.”

“ew, you’d fuck your family?” dustin made fake gagging sounds. 

“pfftt shut up, don’t be gross.” ant winced at him. “but like i said spider, no feelings, at. all.”

spider let out a deep breath, fully relieved. “thank fuck.” he ran his fingers through his hair. “how do i make it up to them?”

“confess your feels, bro.” dusty shrugged. 

“or just be not a complete asshole to them? show you care or like actually respect them.” ant said, like it was obvious to the guy. 

it wasn’t. which may be surprising to some people, to normal people. he wasn’t normal. he’s never done the whole ‘crush’ or ‘liking’ someone thing. infact he’s not really experienced in sex either. everyone thinks he’s some sex machine but in reality he’s just a virgin, whos gotten a few blowies. he tried having sex with some girl a few months ago but he couldn’t get it up. in general he just doesn’t understand vaginas. ‘stupid things’ ‘lazy kebabs’

“make it up to her at the party or something!” ant suggests, before catching a glance of rowan and cash sitting by the rocks. “i’ve found them!” he shouts, running and flailing his arms in their direction. 

rowan wipes their eyes, seeing ant in the distance running towards them. “oh god.” they giggle. 

the next few classes were absolutely boring and went by almost too quickly. the only thing rowan could think of was, what to wear at the cemetery. 

once school had ended, as usual rowan and ant met up by their car, chatting a bit before getting in and taking off. “so, how was the rest of your day?” they asked ant, curious.

“ugh full of spider talking about you.” he yawned dramatically. “gets tiring after awhile.”

“wait really?” they question, looking to him. 

“yeahh he felt really bad about earlier, said he wanted to make it up to you, he’ll probably be allllllll over you at the party.” ant said, as they pulled up to his house. he started to get out, but before he did, rowan grabbed his arm.

“okay so i’m gonna go home, get ready and i’ll come by at 9? is that all good?”

“9? party starts at 11.” ant clarifies. 

“yeah but i wanna get high before we go.” rowan smiles, laughing before they push ant back out the car. 

“i’m cool with that, see you then, row!” ant calls out, walking off to his house. 

rowan got home, and made sure to get upstairs quickly to avoid their mother. bit of an asshole she was. after their fathers suicide, their mom was never the same, drinking, taking drugs, beating on them and their younger brother. they hadn’t seen him in awhile. he was temporarily re-homed for his safety. they had taken him to the emergency room once night after their mom had an episode. 

thankfully the department of social services got involved, and he’s safe now, with a loving normal family. rowan wishes they would’ve taken them too but, something about their age made it complicated. 

they foraged through their closet, trying to find something that would make them look attractive. they wanted to get some attention, hoping it would make them feel better about the spider situation. they had liked him for years, since middle school. it only made it harder when they became friends, and when they became the second bassist for the guys’ band. 

pulling out a plain black tank top, and throwing it on the bed, rowan was then looking for some jewerly, planning on wearing the pants they were already in. they decided on a black choker and dangly silver earrings, along with studs for the rest of their piercings. they re-adjusted their septum, and looked at themself in the mirror. ‘hmmm jacket.. jacket..’

they grabbed a plain red sweater, and reached for their doc martens. “hell yeah” they nodded at themself, wondering if they should do any makeup. 

after a few minutes, they decided on just a light red smokey eye. they were about to start on their hair, when quinni started ringing. 

“hey girl, what’s up?” rowan asked.

“hiii!!” darren gently pushed quinni so they could see the phone. “woah, okay sexy. will we see you at the cemetery?” 

“obviously, can’t you tell by this-” rowan cuts themself off and does a spin. “outfit.” 

“you look gorgeous.” a different voice is heard, and suddenly amerie is on screen too. “i don’t think we’ve properly met.” she said.

“well, talk to me at the party, and we can.” rowan smiled, before looking at the time. “i gotta get going guys but i’ll talk later.”

and just like that, rowan was on their way to ants. 

____

“fuckk, this is some good shit.” rowan says, while breathing out smoke, from the joint between their fingers, while watching the road. 

ant took over driving while rowan decided to get high before the little get together. “you look really cool.” he said, looking over to them.

“thanks! i tried a new makeup look.” rowan smiled. “i’m so excited, can’t wait to get fucked up.”

“me too, however i am missing the responsible you. don’t let the spider thing get to you okay?” ant nodded. 

“i’m trying not to, i feel a lot better now then before.” 

“good. also i heard dusty saying to park the cars by his house so it doesn’t look suspicious to the cops.” 

“ohh yeah, good idea.” rowan agreed, and watched as ant pulled into dustys driveway. “its like a 10 minute walk right?”

“yeah about i think.” 

rowan groaned as they began walking, feeling the tiniest bit dizzy. “told you, you shouldn’t of smoked!” ant laughed, watching them walk.

“whatever.” rowan kept going, walking up the hill, before seeing the firepit. there was only like 6 or so people there so far. spider, dusty, malakai and some strangers they didn’t know.

“hey!” spider called out, seeing rowan. he quickly grabbed an extra beer and popped it open, before passing it over to them.

“oh, thanks.” they replied, nodding along to the music awkwardly. dusty walked up to them and checked them out. 

“you look nice.” dustin said, touching their shoulder.

“yeah.” spider agreed, nodding along, as dusty went back to ant. it was silent for a few minutes. “so-”

“i’m sorry.” he blurted out, rubbing the back of his neck. “i want you to know that what i said was really dumb and i didn’t mean it. you’re really cool and i have no place to judge your sex life.”

“wow, spider apologizing?” rowan jokes. “i appreciate it though, thanks spencer.” his heart immediately softens at his name, his real name. it sounds like the most amazing thing ever hearing his name out of their mouth.

he watches as their eyes flicker, before they lean in and give him a side hug. ‘holy fucking shit’ he thinks to himself, putting his arm around them. 

“well.” they smiled, before seeing other people begin to arrive. “thanks for the beer, i’ll see you around, yeah?” 

“yeah.. yeah i’d like that.” he watches rowan walk away, and suddenly two bodies are next to him, patting his back.

“oooo, rowan and spider sitting in a tree-” dustin starts.

“fuck off.” spider shrugs him off and gives him the finger, before laughing and going back to talking with other people.

soon, the group gets bigger and the music is louder, people are dancing and it’s like an actual party. rowan sees cash out of the corner of their eye. “hey!” they smile, giving him a friendly hug, before whispering in his ear. “you got anything?”

“obviously.” he rolls his eyes, pulls out a small tin and passes it over to rowan. they open it and take a few edibles. “so, hows the spider thing going?”

“hmm it’s better.” they shrugged. “he gave me an actual apology and we hugged.”

“he apologized to you? holy, what have you done to spider.” cash snickers. rowan takes his hand and sits on the hill with him. 

“you think he could like me back?” 

“you’re joking right. it feels like it’s obvious.” rowan looks surprised. “he’s always looking at you during classes, and he’s so friendly to you.” rowan thinks for a moment. 

“there’s no way, he’s literally an asshole to me half the time.”

“because he likes you!” cash exclaims, fed up with having to explain it over and over.

“but-”

“rowan!! stop talking to mr eshay, and come have fun!!” rowan gave a smile that looked more like a grimace to say ‘sorry’. suddenly they were being pulled away by ant, and dragged onto the dance floor. 

“woo!” they exclaimed, dancing their heart out. “this is awesome!” the music was loud, and it just took control of them, everything was floating away. they slowly turned the other way to dance into more people, seeing quinni and darren. 

“hell yeah! how you guys liking the party?” rowan asked, before they started jumping up and down to the beat of the music. 

“it’s sick!” darren says, grooving. 

“very loud.. but i confronted spider about my lazy kebab flaps!” quinni grinned, making rowan chuckle. 

“awesome!” the sky got darker, and eventually it was only the city lights and buildings keeping the party a lit.

it felt like seconds, but in reality it was minutes of dancing, minutes of thrashing around, hair whipping, and bouncing, and soon rowan began getting tired, and the effects of the alcohol really started hitting. the dance moves got sloppy, and rowan, dizzy. 

they felt a hand on their waist, almost as support. “aaa helpp” they slurred, pushing off the hand not knowing who it was. they felt the person get closer, and felt something by their ear. 

“rowan” 

spider.

“rowan, hey it’s me, i think it’s time to get you home.” he said softly, very gently attempting to drag them away from the dance floor. 

“nooo, dancing..” they mumbled

“rowan, hey, you can barely stand, okay? if you don’t want to go home, atleast drink some water.” he handed them a plastic water bottle. 

“need. need to sit down.” they said, before dramatically plopping onto the ground in the middle of the dance floor, people surrounding them with dance. it was almost like they were the only two present.

he snickered at them. “too much to drink?”

“maybe..” they leaned onto him for support, clinging to his orange overshirt, for warmth.

“you cold?” rowan nodded to the question. “i know it’s not much but here.” he passes over the shirt before realizing they can’t do it themself. he moves positions to help put it on for them. “there.” he smiles.

“spence.. i..” they, and everyone else at the party was cut off by police sirens in the distance, and quickly there was cars pulling up. 

“cops! cops!” ant shouted.

“oh fuck.” they screamed, holding onto spider as he got up.

“a bit shit that we’re littering.” sasha squeaks. 

everyone split up except for spencer, rowan, ant, dusty, sasha and harper.

“fuck, fuck, fuck.” rowan muttered, running as fast as possible.

“oi get back here!”

they ran towards a large gate. it was triple the height of any of them, spider was about to jump but looked towards rowan. he got down, and grabbed their waist, suspending them over the gate. of course being incredibly drunk, they don’t stick their landing and they end up fucking their ankle up.

they swore out of pain and started limping, spider threw himself over the gate and held rowan up. “i’m so sorry, are you okay?” he asks, holding their head.

“little ouchie, my ankles fucked, you should run, i can hide behind a bush or something.” they suggested. 

“what, fuck no.” spider scoffed, before pausing to think. “can i carry you?” he asked, looking into their eyes.

“get back here!” a cop shouted, getting closer to the gate.

“yes, yes, hurry!” they shrieked. and soon enough they were in spiders arms, as he ran. it was a wild feeling, being held by him like this, being held so tightly.

“thank you spider.” they spoke, muffled into his chest as he ran. 

“don’t worry about it ro.” he smiled, it was crazy, feeling them curl up in his arms. 

“fuck!” they heard a cop shout, stuck behind the gate. 

after about 10 minutes, he had stopped sprinting, and was now carrying them back to his place, knowing how far theirs were. “you okay?” he wondered.

“mhms.” 

he gushed at them, they were so cute. 

once he got to his house, he quietly rushed upstairs, hiding them from anyone in the house. he set them on his bed. “i’ll make a bed on the floor, you stay comfy up there, alright?”

“noo, please stay with me.” they beg, pouting. “don’t wanna be alone.”

spider sighs, shuffling into the bed and putting an arm around them. he watched as they fell asleep, cuddling into his chest. “god, i love you.” he mumbled, pulling them closer.

“m love you too.” they mumble back.

[kiss-my-freckle]

Anna was described as a stalker towards Jeremy but Stefan was never described as one towards Elena. In season 6 Alaric and Jeremy joked that Damon was stalking Elena for wanting to see her after he came back alive. Also I've seen people use the "You're overage and it's kind of creepy," line after Damon discouraged her from drinking at the school line to slam Delena even if they ship age gap pairings like Elejah and Klaroline. Besides Elijah being physically the same age as Damon those same fans say Elijah grabbing Elena in 2x15 when she was 17 meant he was sexually attracted to her while blindly hating on Delena. Caroline declined daydrinking publicly at the Grill when Klaus offered to get her a drink since she was under drinking age and added there were too many prying eyes and that she didn't want to be a high school cautionary tale at the next PTA meeting, to which Klaus smirked while saying that it's great the high school part is nearly over but he isn't viewed as a creep. I saw a Klaroline fan argue that Caroline was 18 (while claiming Stefan is 17 to only slam Damon as a creep and Caroline turned at 17) and falsely claim that Klaus is physically 20 so age appropriate for Caroline even though he's not and is physically 23; Kol is physically 20. Klaus doesn't even pass for that age and has always carried himself like an adult past that stage of life instead of pretending like Stefan. Klarotrash fans also claim that Alaric is a bigger creep than Klaus for being into Caroline since Klaus gew up in a time where a man of his age being interested in a 17 year old (since he met Caroline 6 episodes before her 18th and said she was pretty before then) was normal. Even though I hate Calaric and think they have no chemistry I hate how most fans of this show get carried away with their emotional bias in interpreting this show that they hate other fans who won't forcefully accept their demented logic where they slam one couple for age. Many Stelena fans ship Bangel even though Angel first saw Buffy when she was 15 and he's physically 26 and slept with her when she was 17 but use that dialogue of Elena's to hate on Delena.

Stelena has a lot in common with the Jeremy/Anna ship. That's why I love Ghost World for its symbolism. Stefan stalking Elena for the sake of entering her life and dating her is a lot different than Damon wanting to see his girlfriend after returning from the prison world. The writers pulled a triple with Katherine, Stefan, and Damon. That's why I love their soundtrack in 2x1, Come Home by OneRepublic. It's all-inclusive.

Fans can say what they want, but humanity Elena defended Damon's relationship with Caroline despite their age, and Caroline is the same age as Elena. Their 18th birthdays are ten episodes apart. Their drinking scenes are according to their ages because by law, drinking age is 21. Like Elena, Carol didn't have a problem with Damon dating Caroline. Liz and Bonnie were the only two people that did. Alaric and Damon chat about the drinking at Elena's birthday party because none of them are 21. No one had a problem with Damon dating Elena because she was 18 when they technically started dating. While considered adult age, she wasn't old enough to drink, but she was old enough to choose her own boyfriend no matter his age. Fans get extremely carried away with their emotional bias. While drinking is a legal issue, some adults allow their teens to drink. Is Alaric really gonna stop everyone from drinking at Elena's birthday party, and if not, isn't it better for them to drink with him there so that he's able to stop them from driving under the influence?

[billconrad]

Run What You Brung

    One of my core traits is hoarding junk and using it creatively to solve problems inexpensively. I have been doing this since I could walk, and a good example is my fishing tackle box. It was a birthday gift when I was eight, and I packed it with tiny light bulbs. When I needed one, I would open my carefully organized box and select the perfect bulb for an electronics project.

    Around age fifteen, we took a driving trip, and I packed my tackle box with candy to select the perfect sweet for each location. Later, I used this box for screws and then switches. By high school, this box was falling apart, and I needed to use a screw to hold it shut. By then, I had a new interest in technical drawings, and I packed this box with templates, erasers, pens, mechanical pencils, lead, ink, and colored pencils.

    I do all my technical work on a computer, but these drawing tools are still contained and organized in that same fishing tackle box, ready for immediate use. This core hoarding value is improving with age as I constantly find new uses for my junk.

    This value also extends to writing, and I rely upon life experiences, English knowledge, and what I see around me to create engaging stories. My trait reminds me of a phrase that violates some grammar rules, “Run What You Brung.” It means do your best with what you have, and I rely on all my wisdom to write.

    An example is a scene I created in my second book, where I described what it was like to be in a relationship. I have had three long ones and recalled the most relevant moments from each to create the following paragraph:

     “Good relationships are hard, really hard,” Gabe continued. “They require a lot of effort just to stay at a normal level, never mind being happy with the person you’re with. In the beginning, everything is wonderful, new, and exciting. I know when I am in love because every song on the radio is the best one ever. But those feeling fades. A long-term relationship involves commitment, hard work, sacrifice, and adapting yourself to your partner. Also, dating a person and living with a person are completely different. For example, the first time I slept with my girlfriend, I knocked her out of bed, reaching for the darn alarm clock.”

    That paragraph was honest, direct, and amusing, but that is not quite what I wanted to discuss. It is the humble word “run.” What is so special about that word? It’s simple with three letters, super-easy to pronounce and understand.

    It turns out that the word has multiple meanings and uses. This article claims the words to be the most complex word in the English language, with 645 Oxford English Dictionary definitions:

    That article was eye-opening, and I looked up the word run for myself:

    Not quite 645 definitions, but a staggering 143 definitions. I had no idea there were so many, but I knew that more than one usage was possible. Like running a program, running late, a runny nose, run a business, runny eggs, run out of fuel, engine stopped running, and a movie runs for an hour. Yet there were many more.

    From dictionary.com: The salmon are running, the ship ran aground, let the water run before you drink it, the river ran into the sea, wax ran down the burning candle, materials that run when washed, cars run on gasoline, the well ran dry, the bill ran to $100, the easement runs with the land, shelves ran from floor to ceiling, a thought ran through his mind, she ran her fingers over the keyboard, run an errand, he ran out of breath, run home in my car, run guns across the border, ran the presses 24 hours, run the car motor, run the water for a bath, he ran a large monthly tab, run a line through a word, this watch runs $30, the car repair will run you a couple of hundred, she took a five-minute run, to take a run up to New York, the plane took a strafing run, a long run on Broadway, a run of salmon, to run through a fortune, she ran into an old friend at the party, his speech ran over the time limit, please run off 500 copies, run along, my watch has run down, he ran away from home three times, running up huge debts, and he ran off with the money.

    Wow, so many uses that I was unaware of. What is the tie-in? The word is a perfect example of gaining and storing writing knowledge for future applications. I can now apply the word run better, resulting in improved sentences with fewer mistakes. So, I guess what I am saying is, “I brung more to the party.”

life experiences

    You’re the best -Bill

    February 26, 2025

    Hey, book lovers, I published four. Please check them out:

    Interviewing Immortality. A dramatic first-person psychological thriller that weaves a tale of intrigue, suspense, and self-confrontation.

    Pushed to the Edge of Survival. A drama, romance, and science fiction story about two unlikely people surviving a shipwreck and living with the consequences.

    Cable Ties. A slow-burn political thriller that reflects the realities of modern intelligence, law enforcement, department cooperation, and international politics.

    Saving Immortality. Continuing in the first-person psychological thriller genre, James Kimble searches for his former captor to answer his life’s questions.

    These books are available in softcover on Amazon and in eBook format everywhere.

[strawberryspeachy]

Its really difficult being a romantic that just wants someone to kiss and cuddle with and live regular life with

And being a straight woman who enjoys sex with cis men

But with high standards

I hate hair anywhere but on the top of the head and eyebrows. On me as well. I shave everywhere. I want a man who does the same

I don’t sweat easily and i dont stink. When i do i take care of that fast. I want a man like that too. I get so grossed out by men sweating profusely

I also get creeped out by short dude. Feels bad but it makes me genuinely feel like a child is grabbing me and makes me wanna throw up.

I hate kissing guys with soft squishy lips. Immediately makes me hate kissing which is something i fucking love

I hate when guys drool. Back to the body fluids and me being a germaphobe. Im gross out and turned off

On that note. Unfortunately i have slept with a lot of guys. And i get grossed out by the one to precum a lot. Why are you so wet. And usually it smells really bad when they are like that. The best guys ive been with don’t have that happen so… idk makes me not want to touch them or for them to touch me. Makes me want to immediately shower and run home

And this guy i met. Who i immediately fell head over heals for - was so perfect in bed. Not only that

He wanted everything i want…. I didnt like that he seems to like a lot of people and is friendly. But other than that he seemed perfect

Obviously he wasnt because actually he lied to me and cheated on his ex constantly and now i feel like fucking shit

But i let him sleep with me without a condom because while he was sitting there telling me he hates me and im a terrible and shit person i realized im literally never going to find someone and i wanted to know what it was like

Cause i realized something ive been pushing down in hopes that i wont be alone forever. And also why ive liked dating in japan over America

I hate sports. I hate having to listen to dudes obsess over sports. I dont want that on my tv. I dont want to hear about ANYTHING having to deal with your stupid fucking team. Its so common in the west like something you have to tolerate to date someone. There a lot of Japanese guys that aren’t like that. I love it because i hate sports

I like men who take care of themselves and dress up

I hate the way to young generation speaks in the west. Its annoyed me since i was in high school. Why do you try to sound and stupid and aloof as possible. Why do you all use the same dumb words over and over like you never evolved past being a 12 year old

So go for the nerds of course. UGH NO - same shit

I HATE D&D. I dont want to be with someone who wastes time playing or planning or talking about it. The conversations you have to overhear about that shit. Im bored and disturbed out of my fucking mind.

Playing videos games day and night. I say this as someone whose best friends play video games all the time and who also enjoys them. I dont hate video games. But i hate men whos entire lives revolve around video games.

Every other country doesn’t shame people for drinking often and going out. Why do we shame that in american society?! Everything i mentioned above is considered normal and healthy but going out and meeting new people and drinking and dancing is only for kids and means your a problem. Traveling a lot means your pretentious

Those are the things i like. I want someone who likes them too. I want to enjoy them together.

I spent my whole life convincing myself that ill have to date one of those people above and id be their wild childish gf THEY have to tolerate taking to a bar once in a while or being embarrassed when i ask them to dance with me

I dont want that. I hate that.

I just wish this guy i met who was also beautiful and my type in every way would just get over his need for validation of random stupid girls

Im prettier than them anyway

Why cant i have my happily ever after

I tried to complain to my friend about this and she basically just told me the gross nerd guys are fine. She doesnt even have the drive to want a man. You don’t fucking get it. No one gets it. Just like the women who think dating ugly men is fine. Thats why youre miserable and mad all the time despite “having what you want”. Why would i want to roll over and see a monster next to me. And have to deal with that touching me. My vibrator is better

I hate this world where men get to chase after women they find beautiful and perfect but to be a girl and do that is asking for too much. Men can shit talk whatever archetype of girl doesn’t match society’s standard but be a girl and say you dont like short men and god for fucking bid

:( I’m just heartbroken. I didn’t chase this guy and get rejected. He approached me. He asked me out. He took me out and promised me so much. He pushed when i pulled away based on seeing signs he was a fuckboy and he swore he liked me. My heart hurts.

[gl00mxstar]

I think I'm getting better now

I don't feel like shit this much right after waking up and when I do sometimes it goes away on it's own a bit quicker

my 'seemingly out of nowhere or from stress and physical activity pains' are less painful that what they used to be in the past few years and even tho I still can't do that much it's way better than I thought I could get

since I both dropped out of high school (and apprenticeship too) and it was literally too late to do anything bc it was almost end of school year I'm not 'obliged' to see people or go to place where stress anxiety and fatigue eat me alive

with 3 above comes better sleep too I can go to sleep and wake up whenever I want without a worry so it helped a lot too I also can sleep less and feel better (I realize how ridicilous it sounds but I always felt like shit when sleeping '8h like a normal person' but when I slept for only few hours I felt really good energetic and refreshed)

I'm more energetic and feel actual motivation to do stuff get better and rather than 'I wanna have bare minimum of living conditions to survive and not go insane' it's 'I wanna make my life better to actually live and enjoy it'

I've managed to take better care of my emotions and even open up more to 'right people' and not bottle them up or turn them into just self depricating jokes like I always did I even vented 2 times (first time 5h and second around 3/3,5h I swear I would have never thought I'll ever do it and for such a long time too I know I def wouldn't manage to when I was younger) also treating tumblr as my personal diary and venting helped too I don't really care if haters or someone I know irl sees my posts if they see this and are gonna have a problem with that it means we just never meant to be friends honestly it's better this way since from that I'm gonna have an easy way of getting to know this

for the one above thank you friends I've made in the past few years also to dca fandom and furry community ya'll have one of the most welcoming people there it's hard to feel uncomfortable and bottle up the emotions around you don't change ever 🫶 (ig it's easy to see someone's struggling when you have first hand experience sobs /hj)

after years of struggling to understand 'what is wrong with me' in everyday life and school I realized I have autism and adhd (thank you reddit tons of articles online and friends with autism 🤝) unfortunately the healthcare sucks where I live especially the mental so I can get a proper diagnosis but I'm 100% sure it's that and knowing what is 'wrong' with me takes away a lot of weight off my shoulders and I finally don't feel bad abt having stuff like sensory issues and problems with understanding certain social norms etc

I learned to go out to buy groceries without being on the brink of a panic attack again so now it's the same as it was when I was younger while I don't like doing it at least I can actually go and buy something

I can now bake again without being reminded of the time I was stuck as an apprentice in horrible work environment were even faint smell of dough or vanilla sugar outside of the workplace were enough to be triggering

I'm finally getting back my 'bad mouth and attitude' as others liked to say when I disagreed with something when they thought they were the smartest person in the room while being wrong so I can now say what I really think and not cry while literally just defending myself and my personal opinions so again going back to how I was when I was younger

I'm a bit less worried abt my cats since the vet clinic was opened in my village (the one where there are actual ppl working here and not just pretending I still don't get it how they were making any money since they weren't open most of the time) and even though I still don't have money for the vet at the very least once I get enough I'll have it close to get them to one

I have way less suicidal thoughts now I hope one day I can get it to 0 or at the very least to 'random thought of remembering the bad past'

I'm trying to speak english outloud to try and learn the right pronunciation (I know what the word is supposed to sound like but I have problems with speaking even in my native language) also I'll try to make phone calls and leave voice messages once I feel more brave to do so I also have in plans trying to read some fics or books to get both my spoken english and reading skills better at the same time since I'm terrible at reading outloud too

I managed to switch from traditional art to digital decently quickly imo and now that I even draw a lot faster than I used to the thought of actually making a living from art seems way less insane now

I've made few good friends both irl and online that I have common interests with and that I'm vibing with hopefully once the weather gets less intense and my health get better and I'll have some money to go out we'll meet

I have one of them keep asking me to go out she's so sweet 😭💕

[beerecordings]

hey I was cleaning up some old files and found that I have a lot more of this story written. not in order, mostly, but the next chapter was all written, so I figured I'd post it. let me know if you enjoy! Idk if I have any Mark ego fans around these days but here ya go

.

On June 11, seven A.M., he wakes up and does his rounds, as he always does.

He ambles through his own house first. In the kitchen, Ippy is half-asleep over a cup of coffee at the dining room table, and Google grabs a carton of milk and a box of cereal from the cupboard to set before him. Walking away from the doctor's yawned-out “thank you,” he heads upstairs and checks that Bim is still a quiet, sleeping form in his dark room. He'll sleep til the afternoon. Google decides to ignore the mess of weapons and police scanners in one corner of the room, but frowns at the half-uneaten plate of dinner left on his bedside table.

Host, for his part, calls a greeting in the third-person before Google even bothers to knock. He's bent over his desk and Google can tell he hasn't slept. His bandages are slicked in blood. Google changes them himself, drawing no response from the rambling narrator, and then spends twenty minutes talking him out of a trance and forcing him into his bed. The key, he's found, is convincing him to go to sleep before he fully returns to awareness and becomes irritable.

So it's a normal day.

Until he opens the door and finds the twins perched on his porch.

“Hi,” they say in unity, smiling up at him.

“Hi, little disasters,” he sighs, pausing only to give a tug to one ear each on the both of them before heading toward their house, a big blue building to the left of his. The sun is pouring clear from the sky and there's a cuckoo kicking up a racket in the trees. The twins are both smiling and sun-tanned, trailing through the grass behind him. “What do you want, then?”

“Oh, Internet Jim, it is very good news.”

“Good news – about the news.”

The last 'good news' they had was that they had finally managed to trap the wolverine they'd spotted around the east side of the forest in their laundry basket, so Google doesn't have high hopes. “Just tell me.”

They exchange glances, a mirthful sort of – hell, is that pride? – in their eyes. And then the first steps back slightly, smiling at his brother, and Jim proclaims, “I'm going to be on the real news!”

Google is stopped short between the three houses, staring the twin down.

Is this what it feels like to be... flabbergasted? Maybe?

“What do you mean?” he asks, and he thinks there might be a problem with his vocalizer, because there's a sudden stammer to his voice. “Did you just say 'I?'”

Jim is smiling, big and warm.

“I,” he says proudly, standing up straight. “Am going to be on the real news.”

And the twins exchange grins, proud, and wait for him to reply.

“Explain,” Google finally manages.

The twins have had jobs for about four months now, ever since they qualified for service coordination and work assistance from the state. Through different programs, the first interviewed for and was accepted into a program at the zoo, where he delights in taking good care of the animals in the petting zoo. The other spent several weeks trying to find any work at all at a real news station. As far as Google knows, he mostly shadows and helps with some of the computer programs and cameras, but he's never been on the air.

“Mr. Sanchez came to talk to me today,” says Jim, his eyes sparkling with tears. “And he said I do a really good job at my job – and he wants to do a piece on a the special ed program at the school – and he said, if I want to, I can be the assistant anchor, because I have real experience and I do a really good job, he said, he said I do a really good job at my job, and then if that goes well, maybe – ”

“Jim,” sighs Google. “Jim. You – you know why we can't do that.”

They stand in the shadow of the house with the orange tree outside. Google, quite suddenly, cannot meet their twin gazes.

“Why not?” they ask in sync. “Jim wants to.”

“Boys, you know we stay hidden here. You know that. Discreet, without discord. Yes? You have heard this many times. Don't I often tell you?”

“Oh, but, but Internet Jim,” gasps the one, reaching out to pet at the back of his own neck, distressed. “It's the news, Internet Jim. It's – it's the news.”

And fuck, Google knows how badly he's wanted this, and for how long, like it was the only thing he was ever created for, and moreover the only thing he's ever wanted, the thing that he's chosen, but Google has creation orders too, and he needs to be objective.

“Your face is too much like Mark's,” says Google. “People could find out about us. It's not safe. And the darkness wouldn't...”

He glances up at the shadowed house. He wonders if the darkness is listening.

“Darkness wouldn't like it,” whimpers the other Jim, reaching out to take his twin's hands. The second has begun to cry quietly, hot tears dripping snottily down his face.

“Don't cry,” Google says, a little more snappily than he'd intended. “Don't cry, come on. I'll call Mr. Sanchez if you want and explain that you can't.”

“No,” whimpers Jim, backing away. “No, Jim will tell him himself.”

“Boys,” says Google, and then nothing else, rubbing at his face.

They are already moving away from him, their eyes wet, snuffling weepily.

So that.... doesn't feel great.

Or it would, if he could feel –

Goddamn it, he hisses to himself, closing his eyes and turning back towards the second house. Who am I lying to anymore? I feel all of this. I feel so much. I feel like I'm breaking down.

And this, this, more than any secret his family hides from the world, is the secret he must keep from the darkness.

He is not ready to be thrown out.

He's slow to the rest of the rounds, functioning at 34% decreased efficiency per the norm.

.

The summer is a busy, happy time for most of them, and the houses are often quiet. Wilford's often traveling, King is working on his nut collection, Bing spends all his time outside, and the twins have so much footage of the forest they could make a documentary based on shaky pictures of rocks and overexcited commentary alone. The doctor's working on a new job in town, Eric's planting a garden, and the Darkness, lazy with heat and perfectly in control, curls around the corners of the house like a self-important cat, rarely summoning his body from its resting place in the unreality.

And Bim?

Bim's stealing.

“What is it today, Trimmer?” asks Google, leaning against the side of his car as Bim dives into the trunk, his white teeth flashing.

“Oh, you're going to want to check this out, Blue.” Bim hefts a box in his arm, stepping back and winking at the android, his black eyes flashing like a bird's. He's in a suit and tie despite the triple-digit heat and he knows he looks good, his hair styled neatly back and his glasses gleaming.

“Don't call me Blue,” growls Google.

Bim laughs. His canines are .73 cm longer and 60 degrees sharper than Mark's are. “Come on, look. You might be interested in this. It's tech.”

“Tech,” Google repeats, and moves aside the lid of the box. “Oh – data chips?”

“Yeah, I'm spying on the government.”

“Where'd you get these?”

“Pretended to be negotiating with the man who stole them and then stole them myself.”

“You leave any evidence?”

“Do you think I'm a fucking novice?”

“This is dangerous stuff. You should let me look at it.”

“I'll pass, darling, but thank you.”

They meet each other's eyes. Bim smiles sugar-sweet and Google straightens up, his eyes narrow.

The pair of them have a long history of fighting for dominance. Bim's unconcerned with the way Google, on the darkness' orders, maintains control of the house, but he listens to the authority of no one but the demon himself.

Google had tried for some time to bring Trimmer under his heel. His catty opponent endured it only long enough to enact a plan of revenge. Google had retched blue blood for a week solid, stretched out licking his wounds in his room, but worse than that – it was the only day in his life he'd ever felt humiliation.

Or stimulated humiliation, anyway. It was unpleasant. And as much as he wants to make Bim pay and suffer and beg, he also doesn't want to repeat the experience.

“Fine,” he says, backing away. “But if you ever leave the slightest hint to lead cops or the mob back here – ”

“Dark will devour me spine and all!” Bim finishes cheerily, hefting his box in his arms and heading towards the house. “Don't worry your pretty little head, cheri. I'm always careful.”

It's true. Google remembers how easy it had been to underestimate him. He has no aura of red-blue hatred, no super-human strength, no bafflingly endless collection of handguns. But he does have one thing that no one else can hope to beat him in: showmanship.

A certain creative violence.

It makes him more dangerous than the vivid flesh of a frog or the slow-moving writhe of an over-sized snake, and Google has learned not to assume that his sharp teeth are unbiting.

“And anyway,” Bim calls back, winking. “You and I both know you're not going to try anything with him watching.”

Him. Google turns. Eric is behind them, watering the hanging baskets on the front of the house that he and Bing and the twins share.

“You're getting soft on us, Blue,” Bim sings, and disappears back into the house like the puffed-up little hedgehog he is. Google swears and kicks the side of the car, leaving a dent above the tire, and then he curses himself too, for the temper he should not have.

There's an aching pain in his head too, though he doesn't know why.

“Google!”

He turns his head and the newcomer is darting towards him, setting the watering can down, looking so childish in khaki shorts and a slightly undersized button-up shirt with roses printed across the sleeves. He always looks so childish. He twitches and pushes at his little round glasses and shifts his weight side to side, side to side.

“Eric,” Google replies, and his voice has something in it that it has for no one else.

Completely comfortable with Google's presence, Eric hooks their arms together and beams across at him, his cheeks pink with excitement. He has anxiety about many things, but Google is no longer one of them. This was as much of an adjustment for Google as for Eric at first. No one else has ever treated him like this. Like they expect him to be friendly. But he's never done the newcomer any harm, or even let him bear witness to the great deal of harm Google has done in his existence, so he supposes he should have expected this.

Most of the others have seen him murder, or at least maim, and so Google is a killing machine that restrains itself from destroying the rest of them on the orders of the darkness alone. Ippy has forgiven him for this, but Bim still looks at him like he's planning what to do on the day Google snaps free of the leash he wears, Host seems to be watching his narrative path to villainy unravel every time he turns his head to the sound of him, and Google has not set eyes on King for longer than ten minutes in several months due to the little fool's complete terror of him. Dark knows he is just a weapon. Wilford rarely remembers him, but always seems to recognize that he is not human, and sometimes ignores his presence altogether.

It does not bother Google. Well. King doesn't, at least. And Bim is an ass, so who cares? And the rest, well. It's fine. It doesn't bother Google.

It never used to bother Google.

In any case, he thinks, shaking his connections mentally, Eric has no fear of him.

“Ready to fight?” asks Eric cheerfully.

“If you are,” he replies, and grabs him by the shoulders, sweeping his leg behind Eric's prostheses and throwing him instantly to the ground – catching him with his grip on him before he can hit the ground too hard.

“Google!” yelps Eric. “You have to give me some warning.”

His voice is high and whiny and it makes Google snort, dropping him onto the grass, his headache fading again as Bim disappears into the house.

“Oh, sorry, are your attackers going to give you some warning before they tackle you in a back-alley and steal your wallet?”

“Well, they might. Like maybe they drop their flashlights or something.”

“Their flashlights?”

“If we're wandering around in back-alleys we should have flashlights! You think our city is spending the municipal budget on lighting? They barely light the roads!”

Such a nerd. Such a nerdy, passionate, anxious, kind little man.

Google does not like humans.

And yet...

“Get up, Derekson,” he taunts, shoving at his chest. “Let's check on your progress. Maybe today, you can even get a hit on me.”

“Oh, you're on, you hunk of... what are you made of?”

Google sweeps his prostheses out from under him again.

“Oh, come on!”

But Eric is laughing. They spar for an hour in the lawn like they've been doing every Wednesday and Saturday, because the newcomer is working on feeling in control of his life, and Google wants him to be safe.

That's his job.

That's all this is.

His objective: prevent discord in the household.

Keep the others safe.

On the porch, Bim is watching with a smirk on his face, fanning himself and drinking lemonade, and Google can feel the cold shiver that his gaze wants to leave on his skin.

.

If he's being completely honest with himself, Bim might be right. He is developing something of a soft spot for Eric – and maybe the twins too. They're just so helpless and afraid, like ugly little birds fallen out of their nests, squawking for attention, and he's been invested in their lives by order of the darkness for so long now that maybe he's actually becoming attached to certain members of the human race he despises. Yes, if he's being completely honest with himself, he's often angry or jealous or confused or afraid, and the way he plays with his hair and his glasses is a twitch he was not programmed with, and he doesn't know why he likes the smell of pine trees but hates the smell of that pretentious white gardenia lotion Bim wears, because machines do not distinguish between right and wrong and if he's not a machine, what is he?

But he tries not to be completely honest with himself these days. He can't bring himself to admit that he is broken. Google is a proud creature, and it's difficult for him to know that there is something melting in the center of his frame. At night, he lays awake and stares at the stars until his battery hits 20% and he closes his eyes, and lets himself charge.

He didn't realize he could dream until he started dreaming about the stars.

Ursa Minor, Ursa Major, Cassiopeia, the Triangulum, Scorpio, Cygnus, Draco –

He knows where they sit in the sky on any given night and he could view a thousand pictures of each constellation, of each star, could splice himself into NASA's database if he really wanted to see up close, could hold all the information known to humanity in the center of his cognitive cortex if he wanted to, so why, why, why, can't he stop looking at the stars?

Pointless, useless, unnecessary, emotional.

What am I becoming? What am I become?

On June 11th, eleven P.M., he buries his face in the pillows of his couch, and he prays that Dark can't hear his thoughts. Broken machines are thrown out, and he is not ready to be discarded.

In the next room over, Bim is playing with machines of his own – but Google is distracted, and it will be a long time before he finds that out.

The last time I wrote fic for Mark’s egos was that Eric Derekson ‘the Newcomer’ fic like two years ago where he made friends with everyone lol. But here is the first part of what might be a little Google-centric fic. I tried posting it once and then deleted it but I wanted to try again. so lemme know what you think :)

The Soldier - Part 1

Summer makes the birds sing and the insects chatter in the bulrushes that grow across the banks of the swollen rushing river that lives beside their home.

Bing smiles, soaking in light and growth and flower-smell. He loves the summertime.

The trees are heavy with greenery but they breathe easy in the wind, standing soft and still as the blue sky drifts along above them. The air brushes friendly across his bare arms and everything is alive, is moving and chasing and searching for something to eat; every blade of grass sways with the wind and the bugs and the mice, every log has been marked or claimed or gnawed on, and the whole forest – the whole wide forest, warm with life and an honest sort of chaos – hums the grandest symphony in all the world.

Keep reading

[jk-unless]

Steve’s Broken Libido

Pairing: Poly!Steddie x Reader

Plot :You and Eddie are hot as hell and Steve is suffering the consequences

Sounds a lot more suggestive that it actually is.Lots of sex talk,but no actual smut.Took me forever to finish this because I’m a master procrastinator, but I hope you enjoy! xx

︶꒷꒦︶ ꒦꒷꒷꒦ ︶꒷꒦꒷︶

Steve Harrington isn’t necessarily a horny guy.Sure he used to sleep around a lot in high school,but he’s calmed down tremendously since then.Around you and the dnd playing metalhead,though?Completely different story.

You and Eddie have been going steady for a little over a year now and Steve has recently joined your relationship.Steve truly couldn’t be happier about it even if he tried.He’s be pining after you since his sophomore year (your freshman year) and his feelings for Eddie are a newer edition but just as strong.Surprised couldn’t even begin to truly express how he felt when the two of you told him that you guys felt the same way.He literally stood there mouth agape,unconsciously holding his breath,blinking like an idiot.This made you and Eddie an anxious mixture of confused and worried.Eddie cautiously put a hand out to Steve,placing it on his bicep and squeezing lightly.

“Steve?You alright-“ Without warning,he launched himself at the two of you in a bone crushing hug.It knocked the wind out of you but it made you smile so big your cheeks hurt nonetheless.That was around two months ago and everything has been going pretty smoothly.Except for the fact that everything about you two makes Steve’s pants a little too tight in the front.

It doesn’t take much at all.A little moan slips through your lips when you stretch after hunching over your desk full of homework all night.Eddie manspreads on the couch,trying to get comfortable after a long day of work.Not to mention the two of you are also constantly touching him,kissing him,and wanting his attention.It drives him insane and every touch from you two lights his skin on fire.

It could be blamed on the fact that he hasn’t sleep with literally anyone since being with Nancy.He’s tried a few times with different people since then,but it never really felt right to go past making out.He’s resulted to handling his problem by himself,but it’s hardly satisfying when the two of you are right there.

The whole situation makes Steve feel kinda sleezy.Yes,it’s completely normal to be sexually attracted to your significant other(s).That being said,your relationship is still so new.The two of you told him you loved him for the first time just a week ago!

Steve’s decided that the solution to this problem is to avoid prolonged physical contact with the both of you.Quick hugs and kisses were fine but cuddling and/or making out?Absolutely off limits.He knew this wasn’t the best way to go about things,but it was the only thing he could think of to do.

The plan was put into action the morning after he thought of it.This was immediately made more difficult by the fact that you and Eddie slept over last night and were now cuddled up nice and snug on top of his chest,shallow breathing and content faces indicating the two of you were still deep in slumber.

Steve felt like dropping the original plan right then and there.All he wanted to do was to hold the two of you tightly in his arms and kiss the both of you awake like he usually does.He instead began to very carefully move the two of you off of him so that he could head to the bathroom to get ready for work.He had successfully got out of bed,was even able to go brush teeth,wash his face,and run a hand through his hair a couple times in the bathroom mirror.He quietly returned to his room,quickly getting dressed while making as little noise as possible.He grabbed his shoes and was heading for the door when he heard his boyfriend’s incredibly hot groggy morning voice.

“Babe?” Eddie mutters while trying to wipe the sleep out of his bleary eyes.’Oh God he’s so fucking pretty’ Steve thinks.The sleepy boy’s hair is fanned across his shoulders,his bun coming out at some point during the night.Eyes and lips puffy from a long slumber.His chest is completely bare,always opting for sleeping with no shirt rather than with one.

After wiping the sleep from his eyes,Eddie realizes his flustered boyfriend has being staring at him.He smirks “Whatcha staring at,pretty boy?”Steve quickly averts his eyes when he’s questioned about it.”Nothin’.Go back to sleep babe,I’m just heading to work.”Before Eddie could say another word,Steve runs out of his room.Skipping a few steps as he ran downstairs to get to the front door quicker.Steve briefly thinks about how he’s being absolutely ridiculous.Despite this,he gets in his car and starts his route to work ten minutes early to avoid his significant others anyway.

There hasn’t been many times where Eddie was more confused than he was right at that moment.His boyfriend just quite literally booked it out of his own room,no goodbye kisses for either him or their girlfriend.You eventually realize the lack of a body in the bed.Opening your eyes, you incoherently asked Eddie where Steve was.“Off to work?” He says like he’s unsure of himself.You give him a confused look and turn to glance at the alarm clock on the bedside table.

“Ten minutes earlier than usual?With no good morning kisses?” The entire thing was a little off to you.Steve always left for work at the same time each morning,not too late and definitely not too early.Not to mention he always made sure to give you and Eddie a good morning kiss when the two of you would sleep over.

“Yeah I found it weird,too.Maybe he knows they’ll be busy today?” Eddie offers despite being as confused as you were.You huff and sink back into the covers with your eyes closed.

“I suppose.But busy day be damned,we’re going over there later and getting our morning kisses.”

“No argument here,babe.”

The two of you sleep in for another hour or so,Steve being the only one who had work that day,then eventually decided to get up,dressed,and head to Steve’s place of employment.Unbeknownst to you two,Steve was venting to Robin about how the two of you were driving him crazy.Robin stayed quiet and let him ramble on about his horniness while she stocked the shelves.Once he was finally finished,Robin simply turned to him with a deadpan expression.

“You are an absolute idiot.”

Steve sighs and rolls his eyes. “Helpful as always.God,I don’t know why I still bother telling you my problems.” He tried to walk away,but the genuine sadness in his voice made Robin feel guilty.She grabbed his arm and turned him around to face her.

“I just…don’t understand what the problem is,Steve.Like have they told you they don’t want to have sex?”

“No it’s just-our relationship is still so new,I’d hate for them to think I was trying to rush them,or that I started to date them just to get in their pants!”

Robin couldn’t help but scoff in shock. “Steve!Eddie and Y/N would be the real idiots here if they actually thought that!And besides,Y/N is one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever met and,even as a lesbian,I can admit that Eddie is pretty easy on the eyes.It’s only natural that you want to jump their bones.”

Steve takes in what his best friend is telling him then gives her an odd look.”Robin,is there something you want to tell me?”

She simply rolls her eyes and walks over to her unfinished work. “Shut up,Steven.”

As Steve smirks and walks off to find something to do,he looks towards the window to see his two significant others making their way to the shop.He curses under his breath,quickly tells Robin to cover for him,then dips into the back.

“This won’t help anything!”

“It will for now!”

Robin lets out yet another exasperated sigh and puts on a smile for the two of you.

“Hi guys!”

“Hey Robbie!We’re here for our boy.Where is he?” You greeted your best friend then began to look around for the other love of your life.

“Oh he’s um-handling some stuff in the back.Suuuper busy,unfortunately.” Robin stutters,obviously very uncomfortable.You’ve known Robin for pretty long time,so you can always immediately tell when she’s lying.Before you can question her further,though,Eddie beats you to it.

“Buckley,between just the three of us,does he seem a little off to you today?He was acting pretty weird earlier.”

“Uuuh not any weirder than he usually is.I mean,it’s Steve guys.” She laughs nervously.You and Eddie simply share a look,coming to the conclusion that Robin was hiding something and wasn’t gonna be of any help.

“Well thanks anyway,Robin.See ya later.” The two of you walk out of the store defeated and Robin couldn’t possibly feel worse.She calls for Steve to come out.Steve does so,but very carefully.

“How’d it go?”

“First off:please don’t ever make me do that again.Second:you’re making them worried,you bozo!You need to them the truth!”

Steve buries his face in his hands with a groan. “Robin I just explained to you why doing exactly that is so difficult!”

“Listen to me,dingus!It was pretty damn obvious that they know something’s up.The way you’re filling your head up with these crazy assumptions is probably exactly what they’re doing right now too!You need to clear things up before it becomes a real problem.”

Steve pondered on Robin’s words for the rest of their shift and came to the conclusion that she was right.He would hate to make the two of you think that you guys were the problem when the real problem was his hyperactive libido.Later that night after getting off work,and hanging out at Robin’s place for a while to further avoid his problems,he decided to tell the two of you what’s been going on his head.He takes a deep breath,runs a hand through his hair,then finally hop out of the car and head’s to his front door.When he enters,he finds the two of you cuddled up on the couch under a thick blanket.No tv show on or music playing,just laying there talking in hushed voices and enjoying each other’s presence.

Steve’s heart swells at the sight before him.He closes the door quietly as to not startle the two of you and ruin the moment.The two of you jump the tiniest bit anyway,easily startled after certain…events.You both lit up after realizing it was him,and suddenly having both of your attention made him nervous again.He shed his jacket then walked over to the couch,giving his significant others the kisses they had been waiting literally all day for.It was hard to focus on the serious conversation ahead of him as he settled comfortably in the middle of the two of you like he always did.You two cuddled up nice and close to him,pecking his neck and shoulders softly,having missed your favorite guy while he was away all day. The kissing and close proximity had a familiar feeling stirring up in his stomach.

Steve cursed himself and shot up at the realization of what was happening.All his partners were trying to do was have a tender moment with him and he was ruining it with his insatiability.The sudden movement startled you and Eddie to say the least,causing the two of you to share a look then bring your attention back to your obviously distressed lover.You were the first to speak up.

“Stevie…what’s been going on today,huh?You’ve been acting pretty weird.”

“Yeah,babe,you’ve been off since this morning and you’re starting to freak us out a little.Is it something we did?If so,please tell us so we can fix it.”

The sincerity in both of your voices made Steve feel like shit.This was also the moment that he truly realized he blew things way out of proportion.He was literally just horny,and for all he knew: the two of you could be more than happy to help take care of his problem.

He took a deep breath in,slowly exhaling as he sat back in his original spot.He then proceed to spill his guts about what’s been eating him.You and Eddie didn’t utter a single word the entire time,just gave him your completely undivided attention.Once Steve was finished explaining,you and Eddie simple shared a knowing look.

“Stevie, I’d really be concerned if you didn’t want to has sex with me and Y/N.I mean look at us,we’re fucking gorgeous!” Eddie exclaimed with a goofy smile and a grand sweep of his lanky arms making you chuckle.

“If it makes you feel any better,sweet boy,we feel the exact same way!We’re trying to take things nice and slow with you,but you make it real hard sometimes…no pun intended.” You say with your own little grin.

“So…” Steve reaches for one of your hands and one of Eddie’s,both of you quickly meeting him halfway “it doesn’t make you uncomfortable that I feel that…this way?” you glances at you both nervously.

“Steve we will literally fuck you on this couch right now.” Eddie says with a deadpan expression making Steve choke on his own spit.

“Eddie!” You yelled,reaching over to smack the older boy’s arm.

“It’s true though!”

“Well of course it is,but you can’t just say that!”

A/N: Ending this fic abruptly for both comedic reasons and they fact that I can’t think of any other way to

[dowhatisaynotwhatido]

1. FBT - Finding Billy and Tommy

Paring: F!Reader x Wanda Context: After Wundagore in Multiverse of Madness, Wanda finds what she has been looking for in a small town – more precisely, in you. ... This one might ring a little (lot) different. Is more of a fluff-comfort-family thing.  Warnings: just comfort, fluff, angst(?), light - grief Word Count: 2.5 Part 1 (this) | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4*

- “Are you there, Ms. Franco?” The voice echoed through your phone. You could hear the nurse loud and clear, you were just too shocked to say anything. Your brother had been on a car crash 5 days ago and were currently fighting for his life on the ICU - he had just lost the battle.

----- A couple weeks after your brother and sister-in-law passing, you were still getting use to not be alone anymore. On your 30’s, you have been living alone since after college, not even a serious relationship to keep you company. Your nephews rarely slept over, and now you had the two 6-year-old living with you. They hadn’t understood their parents’ deaths until 1 week after your brother’s funeral. Billy was the first one to miss them, but Tommy got the worst of it. For 5 days, the little kid did not sleep, crying day in and out, while Billy acted out making pranks and being loud– just as a normal grieving kid. You had to ask a leave from your work to be with them 24/7. Although your mother helped you, she simply didn’t have the energy to do more after losing her own child. You live in a small city and work as a math teacher in the only high school in town. Being a single woman in your 30’s were already hard on a small town where the gossip flew by. Being a lesbian single woman? Even harder. But when you added “mom solo” to being a single lesbian 30yo woman? The pitiful judging eyes of the whole city followed you everywhere. The market gave you priority in line. Your neighbors had the civic sense to feed you and your nephews for almost a month after the tragedy. Your coworkers no longer shoot you casual texts, but always hard and heavy “how are you”, “I know is hard, but if anyone can do it is you”. Gifts? The kids were swamp in clothing and toys. You know they were trying to help, but the intensity of it all, just made you fall even deeper in reclusion.

You opted to let the kids go to school to have some distraction, as their therapist suggested. Weeks passing by, the whole mood was getting better and lighter. Tommy no longer cried to sleep, although he still woke up to go to your bed every night. You got use to them, finally bought extra pillows and a mattress wrap – no longer a problem with the night leakages of Billy’s mind screaming for help. You grew calluses. You never had the proper time to grieve the loss of your brother and best friend, but you shrugged off any kind of fragility or overthinking. Your late nights with some stupid Netflix drama turned into Paw Patrol and some horrific YouTube channels of slimes and sticky gross toys. Your tacos Tuesdays at Amanda's? They turned into toasty bread and cheap butter you could barely afford with your only salary divided per 3. Your wine and crossword Saturday afternoons turned into puzzles, Lego and an exhausting game of chasing around kids. You were extremely pushed to your limits, but you didn't allow any self-pity, convincing yourself that you didn't have the time for it. It was mid-April when it happened. They had been with you for the best part of a year, and you always kept the idea of being their legal guardian and maintaining their parents image awoke on their minds. Tommy had gone to your bed just as usual, but this time he woke you up and asked to be cuddled. Once he was properly comfort in your big spoon, he said “Thank you, mommy”. It was sweet and spontaneous. From that day on, your little family finally found a new meaning, and you became their mom. ------ “Wanda Maximoff” – she said to herself in the mirror “You are Wanda Maximoff”. It was a grounding exercise she had learnt in Hong Kong Sanctum Sanctorum. After Mount Wundagore events, the Scarlet Witch used her last strength to teleport herself out of the mountain collapse – retracting back into Wanda’s to recharge her magic. Once Wang and Strange found Wanda wandering around the snowy mountains, she was brought back to the Sanctum where she trained to keep SW imprisoned inside.

They had tried to kill SW, to get her out of Wanda or to weaken her. Wanda tried and insisted that killing her was the only way – but SW wouldn’t let her pursue that route by herself and the Avenger's refused to go down that road after Natasha self-sacrifice. Soon they found out that Wanda and the SW where the same person, and the only person who could stop SW was exactly Wanda.

She trained day in and out, strengthening her hold on her own mind and body. After a few months, SW was no longer able to fully corrupt and possess Wanda, leaving her just a small part of her previous ability, still able to talk and get into Wanda’s mind in the days Wanda was specially distracted or exhausted. After a full year, SW simply resigned at her inner cell and stopped trying. That was when they concluded Wanda was free to live her own life out of the Sanctum. Of course, she wasn’t doomed responsible for the Westview or Wundagore accident, being obvious she wasn’t the one in control neither of the time. However, she still blamed herself and decided to retire her powers. She refused to use them for any harm or to go back to the compound; she was no longer an Avenger. The year after, she spent trying to find a little corner of the world where she could retire in a resemblance of peace. She decided to stay in the US due to the proximity to the NY Sanctum and Avenger compound in the eventuality SW got to possess her over again. After Thanos, Wanda was a celebrity and the public was fast to recognize her in every single character she tried to hide herself in. She tried to dye her hair brown, blonde, black, short, long, curly, straight, it didn’t work. She was too famous – and as the public didn’t know about Westview and the Darkhold: they saw her as a hero. The first town found out her secret in a week, and the over affection drew Wanda out of there last than a week after. The following ones were slower, they took their time to figure her out, but as soon the secret was gone, she was followed everywhere with hot meals and praises. Every damn grandma on those cities decided to cook her lasagna, cookies, and ever so sweet meat soup. At the last city, she gave up on trying hiding herself, and decided to assume her identity as a former Avenger and current history teacher. That is where she found a home. ------ Farmville, 20.000 habitants, 4 hours away from NY. After six months of your work leave, you were ready to go back to teaching. Leaving Tommy and Billy at school and going to your classes turned out to be a healthy new routine. When you got to the teacher’s lounge on the first day, you noticed something had change. Yes, your coworkers were still the same, kindly welcoming you back, but your gaze followed an imposing presence on the back of the room. There was the most beautiful woman you have ever seen. Wanda noticed the commotion in the room and spared a quick glance to see someone being hugged and kissed by the other teachers. She couldn’t decide if she was annoyed at the loud noise or interested on the new woman. You were on the pretty side of the people spectrum. Soft skin, hair held up, well-put together, nice formal clothing. Apart from the sleepless nights clear on your face, you could put a nice show. Wanda got herself staring at you more than once in that morning. You were the math teacher who had adopted your brothers’ twins. Even Wanda knew the gossip after being the history teacher on the same HS for a couple of months. She haven’t seen you around town, but it wasn’t a surprise: she kept to herself and your domestic life didn’t actually allow you to go out and be seen. You were reserved and introspective. Your lunch breaks spent in your classroom tutoring some students to get extra money. Once you got out work, you went straight to pick up your kids. You weren’t usually on the teacher’s lounge during your breaks or empty calendar, using the lazy time to grade in your classroom, run some errands or just tutor some more. Wanda got herself searching for you in the corridors, going round the square just to pass through your door and spare a quick glance. She was interested in the shy, cute and very busy woman you presented to be. Embarrassingly, she had even allowed herself to search for your thoughts during a special day where you looked more troubled than usual. Of course, you didn’t know any of that.

The gossip about the retired avenger moving into the city reached you as it did to everyone else. However, for you, it didn’t actually matter. You had your own life to sort through, too busy to be worried about some significant celebrity or superhero. At school, you quickly learned that Ms. Maximoff was a great teacher: she could keep even the most troubled student in her class, using her red magic to construct live presentations and scenarios of historic events. Even the teachers and the principal herself – a former history teacher- were caught in the interest of watching to one or two of her classes.

It was a Wednesday evening a couple weeks later, the first time you actually spoke to her. Both of you had a Parents and Teachers meeting that night, and the twins were with you mother. After your last class in the afternoon, you decided to pass the time grading and preparing your next class in the Teachers’ Lounge. When you got there, you noticed the fresh coffee scent and the red-haired sat in the only table of the room, lost in a thousand pages and books. You acknowledged her, but got silence in return.

She was concentrated, mumbling to herself while correcting what it seemed to be a particularly bad exam. Avoiding her papers and material, you sat in the far corner of the table and started to grade yourself. A few minutes later, a steamy cup of coffee was magically placed in front of you. “Black, no cream, no sugar” Wanda said with a small smile, still seated across the table, with her red eyes confirming that she was the one behind the floating Harry Pottery mug. “Thank you, Ms. Maximoff” you said shyly blushing. How could she know how you take your coffee? “Wanda, please” “Wanda. That was very thoughtful. You are the one who looks like you need a coffee, though.” You chuckled “How bad was that test?” “Bad. She just doesn’t get it.” She sighed, “I have tried everything, but she just…” “Have difficulties on an area that is not the one she is good at?” You said warmly “Who is she?” “Angela Brinks” She huffed “It is not it, she understands and pays attention- but fails every test.” “Angela? She is failing my class too. She was so good at math a year ago,” You thought going through you notes. “She is just having some trouble back home. “ Wanda slipped. She was not supposed to tell you that. She felt like invading someone’s privacy - is not like Angela told her about it. She couldn’t help: when the thoughts were too loud, too intense, or someone were just too close, sometimes their thoughts just invaded her mind and she couldn’t block it. “I just wished I could help. I am not used to be so powerless.” You smirked “Yeah, welcome to the ordinary” You said as a joke, but Wanda did not laugh or say anything about it for the pass hour. You thought it was a touchy subject so after long minutes of silence you spoke up. “I am sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude” “You weren’t.” She looked at you with a kind grin “You are a nice person, aren’t you?” You smiled shyly at the way Wanda was staring at you “Everyone has their demons, Wanda. I am as nice as anyone else” “Except that isn’t true” She dropped her pen and frowned as she tried to understand you. “See? If it is not true, then I am a liar – so, it is true. ” You winked “Plain old logical proposition” Both of you laughed.

You kept grading and making small talk until the parents meeting. You were clearly their favorite teacher, and the parents welcomed you back warmly, some brought gifts, others asked about the twins, and a few got your phone number for more tutoring lessons to their kids. After the meeting, Wanda stayed behind waiting patiently for you to finish a talk with yet another mother. “Someone is popular” She teased “Is nice to be back. I missed this” You sighed “Being a super mom isn’t enough?” Wanda said with a light tone, but she felt a sting of jealousy in her heart. You chuckled “Is definitely something. However, here I can just be me, you know? I am not their aunt, or mother, or whatever. I am not here for anyone else. Just… Y/N.” You blushed “Sorry, this sound so selfish” “There is nothing wrong with that. Being selfishly you is also part of being a mom. We need to be ourselves too” “Oh. Are you a mom too? I didn’t know” You stared at her. Did you miss that gossip? Wanda gulped. Yes, she had been. For a brief moment, she had her own set of twins and she was complete. After Westview, that feeling of nurture and love was just taken away, leaving a hollow vacuum in her chest that nothing or no one seemed to fill. You notice her eyes tearing up as she zooned out “I am sorry, I didn’t mean to pry.” “It is ok. I might tell you one of these days. Not today though.” She tight lip smiled as you reached the parking lot. “So, I hear you are giving tutoring lessons” “Yes. I need the money” You shrugged searching for your car keys in your purse “I am basically doing anything that brings me one-step farther from crippling debts” You said with a light tone. Wanda made your comfortable. Every time actually paying attention to you. It was refreshing. “I need some help on Saturday. I was just going to hire someone else, but do you want to help me?” Wanda asked. She didn’t really need any help, but she wanted you to say yes just to spend some more time with you. “Really? With what?” You asked interested, finally having found your car keys and opening the door. “Organizing” She said plainly. She had not properly taken her stuff out of the moving boxes since she got here. “I will be there at 8” You smiled getting into your car with a fresh smile and a warm heart.

Part 2 

[extrasweetcoffee]

Riddle and Cater's Friendship is Being Slept On and I Want to Ramble About Them

This has been sitting in my drafts for a bit, so I'm just gonna post it to get it off my chest since why not. This is gonna get mega TL;DR, so more under the cut. Also spoilers for TWST JP content and several personal stories.

Basically, a few ideas that almost exclusively happens in fan content with Cater angst at the forefront has been sitting at the back of my mind for a while now. Usually (but not always) it'll have: Riddle being portrayed as a mega asshole towards Cater, Riddle stealing Trey from Cater, or portray Trey as a bad/neglectful friend towards Cater when none of that very accurate, if at all.

Okay. First off, it's not impossible to have multiple best friends. Trey was already friends with Chenya before meeting Riddle, and the two are still buddies despite attending different colleges. My guy is 18; he can handle a social circle just fine.

Second, Cater is practically the second vice housewarden if you think about it. Riddle trusted him to lead a group with the unbirthday setup and management in Cater's dorm vignette, Riddle acknowledges Cater's importance as the mood-uplifter of the dorm during Halloween II, and we learn in Masquerade that Riddle trusted Cater's advice to get a better haircut (Riddle was really out there with the Rollo cut lol). There's more instances I could name, but you get the jist - Riddle isn't the kind of character to go putting this kind of faith onto some randy.

I get the feeling that people see that one line in Cater's gym story and roll with it without thinking more about the context behind the dialogue. In that story, Cater knew he was breaking school rules by using his magic in class to cheat. Trey probably would have told him to do his exercises normally, since it's kinda his job as a vice dorm leader to make sure his boys aren't fucking around. If it were Rook, Jamil or Lilia, I have no doubt they'd do the same with their own dorm members. Plus, Riddle already knows Cater is a habitual bullshitter, so it's not like Cater had any chance of lying to his face and getting off scot-free if even if Trey wasn't there. (I wanna say this is a problem caused with the EN's translation being a bit blunt at times, but honestly I think people would still misinterpret this scene regardless).

Yes, Trey and Riddle have the more familiar relationship so Trey may prioritize Riddle over Cater if the option arises which would hurt the latter boy's feelings. But truth be told, Cater already had attachment issues LONG before NRC; I doubt Trey being Riddle's second in command or him trying to tide over Riddle's tyranny during his tenure as housewarden was changing much of anything between them. Cater couldn't muster the courage to break his facade long enough to give his (possibly) closest friend a non-superficial wish for the Starsending, even after Trey called him out for using the same one three years in a row. Cater purposely keeps people at an arm's length, and I wouldn't call Trey a bad friend in this case for respecting Cater's boundaries. Also Trey is possibly the only person in NRC who's aware of Cater's tastes and often makes him spicy food (or uses Doodle Suit on sugary foods so Cater can stand them).

Like shit, if you think about it Riddle's friendship with Trey is probably the main reason why Riddle likes Cater and is willing to tolerate his quirks in the first place. Riddle knows Trey Clover of all people would never squad up with absolute fuckbois such as the faceless NPCs who always start shit. Trey trusting you at all is one of the strongest forms of friendship clout there is, which is probably why Rook isn't on Sage Island's sex offender registry (as far as we can tell).

While Riddle does get annoyed with Cater's easygoing habits and tendency to cut corners, it's not a behavior he exhibits exclusively towards Cater. Riddle is a man of high standards, especially when it concerns Heartslabyul's integrity. He isn't singling out Cater for shirking his responsibilities any more than he would Ace or Deuce. And like I said before, Riddle does give credit to Cater when it's due. Riddle was even willing to help Cater with his test via utilizing Cater's social media addiction (and they're probably still mutuals on MagiCam, which is a cute thought).

I'm not saying people should stop doing this exact trope. After all I'm just some rando on the internet and I certainly don't have any more right to police what people do in their own time more than anyone else. Also the ex-dorm leader Cater headcanon, which is a favorite of mine, pretty much thrives off these tropes. Really this is me airing my thoughts about this as someone who likes Riddle and Cater's companionship and eats any crumbs the game and supplemental content gives me. I guess my thesis for all this would be some characters have better relationships than is read at face value.

Anyway that's my TED talk, I hope you have a good day :)

[sikyurame]

SO ANYWAYS, I’ve been thinking about a scenario where comicverse Donald and DT Donald swap places ((basically the trope where you wake up in another person’s body 👀))

—

Both Donalds waking up and realizing something is…off.

Comic Donald wondering why is he back in a houseboat (“I haven’t lived in a boat since my early 20s!), why is he living in Scrooge’s mansion (“Last thing I want is to live with my annoying penny-pinching uncle”), and where his husband and daughter were.

DT Donald having a heart attack after waking up and finding this blonde haired chicken guy sleeping next to him, who is this guy, and why is he acting like their together?? and WHO IS THIS KID THAT SUDDENLY JUST JUMPED ON ME??

Shenanigans ensue. Both Donalds aren’t acting right, and it’s very noticeable.

Comic Donald is constantly asking about where Gyro is, and everyone’s like “He’s in his lab, probably inventing some evil sentient robot??? Why are you suddenly so interested with him???” and Donald’s like “Why wouldn’t I be???”

It hasn’t dawned on him that in this universe, he and Gyro aren’t together.

Meanwhile, in the other universe, Willow feels devastated when she tries to sign to DT Donald, but he doesn’t sign anything back and just stares at her. Hurts her deeply because her dad can always understand her, why is he having trouble now?? Bonus points, if Gyro steps in and is both comforting his daughter while also questioning Donald on his actions.

More shenanigans ensue. Arguments happen. Suspicions arise. All that good jazz.

But then somehow, someway, probably by some interdimensional scanner both Gyros invented, everyone finds out that the Donald in front of them, isn’t their Donald.

DT Gyro: “That would explain why you tried to hug me…”

Comic Gyro: “That would explain why we haven’t slept in the same bed for the past week.”

So after this discovery both parties try to figure out how to fix the problem, and it’s decided that both Gyros would start building some weird interdimensional mind swapping machine in order to revert the effects.

I like to imagine at this point of the story, everyone starts to bond with the Donald their stuck with for the time being: mainly HDL and Comic Donald / Willow and DT Donald.

Comic Donald: You boys are halfway through high school where I’m from! I’ve never been so proud of all of you :) Ha…I wish I could tell you all that, but you three are so busy nowadays…

DT Donald: *in broken sign language* I’m not your dad, but I can see why he loves you. You remind me so much of my nephews.

Idk it’s cute :> and I cry a lot at night thinking about Parent Donald Duck.

Then once the machines built, both Donalds say goodbye to the universe they met, and everything goes back to normal.

But there’s this one ending scene that I can’t stop thinking about. One where Comic Donald is back in the comicverse, and he’s sitting on the ground (a little dizzy from the after effects). Gyro runs next to him, helping him gain his bearings and confirming that it’s really his Donald. It is, and he hugs his husband tightly, almost to the point of crying.

Donald hugs him back, but he catches Willow standing to the side. She’s incredibly nervous, probably wondering if this is actually her dad. Donald smiles in her direction and signs, “Hey kiddo, sorry I was gone for awhile.”

Willow’s overjoyed, and she runs and hugs both her dads.

Yeah, that’s it. That’s all I wanted to share d:

Can I talk about a dumb fanfic idea I’ve always wanted to write but will never have the motivation to do??

[sunflowervolvimp3]

changes (best friend!harry)

Warnings: language, nsfw content, drugs (marijuana) and alcohol

Pairing: best friend!Harry x reader

Word Count: 17k (holy shit)

A/N: So this started as two requests I had in my inbox that I got way too into and then it became this. this may be the longest stand-alone fic I’ve ever written, and it, like watermelon sugar, is dedicated to touching!!!! I spent so long on this so as always. feedback is appreciated. and if you like it, please reblog it!!! reblogging is the best way to show fic writers your appreciation <3

{masterlist}

Unless she’s reminded otherwise, Y/N always thinks of herself as a teenager.

This, of course, isn’t true. She turned twenty-six a month ago, works as a media producer for an online clothing company, and lives alone in a one bedroom apartment in London.  However, unless she physically has something in front of her to remind her of her real age and the passing of time, Y/N disregards this information.

Usually, the reminder is a bill in the mail, or a phone call to remind her that she needs to book an appointment with her doctor.  Usually, the reminder is an ache in her back, her glasses prescription getting worse, or realizing that she has no idea what her teenage cousins are talking about when she sees them at Christmas.  Usually, the reminder is enough to give her pause, but not enough to throw her for a loop.

This time, however, the reminder is her childhood best friend naked in her bathroom.

Y/N and Harry had been friends since they were in primary school, after Y/N had moved to London with her mother.  Their new house just happened to be next to Harry’s, and Anne and Y/N’s mother had quickly hit it off.  Anne had been quick to volunteer her son to be Y/N’s tour guide at school, and despite not being enthusiastic about each other in the beginning, the two began to grow closer by the end of Y/N’s first week there.  Within a month, the two were inseparable, and that didn’t change as they entered their teen years, started secondary school, and Harry left London to become a member of the most famous boyband in the world.  Just typical teen things.

However, despite their distance, Y/N and Harry had remained as close as ever.  They constantly texted, called, and video chatted with each other, and Y/N even joined Harry on tour a few times (with permission from her mother).  Although both of them had been worried when Harry left, their worries and fears never came to fruition.  Just as they balanced each other in personality, they balanced each other in lifestyle—when Y/N needed a break from high school and university, Harry brought her to shows, award ceremonies, and parties, and when Harry felt like his fame was overwhelming, Y/N sent him reminders of home, hosted countless movie nights for him, and told him story after story of university life.

They were so perfectly matched that, when they were younger, many people—and tabloids—suspected that they were dating.  Even their mothers had asked them, on occasion, if one of them had any interest in the other.  However, their answers were always the same.  Y/N and Harry were best friends, and nothing more.  Sure, they were touchy, affectionate, called each other pet names, and had even kissed on a few occasions during truth or dare at parties, but none of it actually meant anything.  Y/N had watched Harry grow from a cute kid to an awkward teen to a self-assured man, and her feelings for him had never changed, and an attraction to him had never developed.

Until now.

Harry’s facing away from her, his towel in his hand as he dries his chest.  His entire body glistens with water from the shower.  Y/N can’t stop herself from letting her eyes canvas over every inch of his smooth arms, toned back, down lower to his—

Her breath catches in her throat.  Yeah. His ass is toned, too, she thinks to herself, and only has another moment to think that she shouldn’t be looking before Harry glances over his shoulder, alarmed by the small sound she had made.

“Y/N—” His eyes widen a bit, but he doesn’t make an effort to cover himself with his towel very quickly.

Her eyes automatically follow his movement for a moment before she realizes what she’s about to see. “Sorry!” Y/N turns around quickly, her face heated. “Sorry, I—the door was unlocked, I didn’t realize you were—”

“It’s fine.” Harry fixes his towel around his waist. “Don’t worry about—”

Y/N leaves the bathroom before he can finish his sentence, walking to her bedroom quickly and shutting the door tightly behind her.

Harry, it seems, is today’s reminder that she’s no longer a teenager, because his body is that of a man.

It’s not like you haven’t seen him shirtless before, she tells herself, walking to her dresser to pick out a change of clothes.  Y/N’s seen him half naked countless times.  The whole world has seen Harry half naked countless times.  But she’s never seen him like that.

When did Harry grow up? Somehow, between movie nights and pool parties and going away to school, Y/N had failed to notice that her childhood best friend is no longer a child.  Harry had grown into his features, developed muscles in his arms and chest, tattooed designs all over his skin, and had become an incredibly attractive adult without her noticing.

Y/N pulls her pajamas off quickly, stopping to glance at herself in her full length mirror.  She, like Harry, is also no longer a child. She had grown into her features like he had, had gotten a few tattoos, made her share of mistakes, and became an adult the same way he did.  Neither her nor Harry’s growth had happened overnight.

As she runs her hand between her chest, down her stomach, brushing her hip, Y/N can’t help but wonder: has Harry noticed that they’ve grown up?  Does he still look at her and see the shy little girl, the developing teenager, or does he look at her and see a grown woman?  Is she the only one who’s been late to the party?

Y/N feels a flutter in the pit of her stomach.  Is it possible that, at some point, Harry looked at her and had the same realization that she had a moment ago?  That not only had she grown into a woman, but that she had grown into an attractive woman?

The sound of the bathroom door opening distracts Y/N from her thoughts, and she hurries to finish getting dressed.  Her shirt, she finds when she pulls it on, smells a bit like Harry’s cologne, as she had set it on the side of the bed that he slept on the night before.  She likes it more than she should.

After she’s dressed, she debates just staying in her bedroom to avoid facing Harry again for a bit longer. However, she can hear him working her coffee maker in the kitchen, and knows she can’t hide in her bedroom like a child.  She isn’t a child.

Neither is he, she thinks to herself as she touches her bedroom doorknob. Which is the problem.

Still, Y/N shakes herself from her thoughts and walks out to her kitchen.

Harry, now dressed in wide leg jeans and a plain white t-shirt, is leaning against her kitchen counter, a cup of coffee in his hand.  His hair is still wet from his shower, but other than that, he looks normal. Completely normal.

And yet, Y/N can’t manage to meet his eyes.

“Good morning.” Harry’s voice is low, a bit of amusement in it as he notices her demeanor. “How did you sleep?”

“Fine.” Y/N hates how tight her voice is as she grabs a mug from the kitchen cabinet. “I slept fine. Did you?”

Harry nods, his eyes still tracing her every move as her own eyes avoid him. “I did.  Woke up a bit early, though.  Thought I’d shower before brunch.”

Right.  Brunch.  They’re having brunch that day with a few old friends, at a place just down the street from Y/N’s apartment, which is why Harry had stayed over the night before.  Y/N was going to have to act normal around their other friends, which means she can’t avoid looking at him for much longer.

“I’m sorry.” She says as she pours a cup of coffee. “I am, I—I should’ve knocked.  I forgot you slept over, and—”

“It’s fine, Y/N.  I should’ve locked the door.” Harry says easily, the corner of his lips tugging up. “It’s not a big deal.  Besides, it’s not like you haven’t seen me naked before.”

At that comment, Y/N pauses. “Except…I haven’t seen you naked before?”

Harry shakes his head adamantly. “No.  You have. There’s no way we’ve been friends for almost twenty years, and you haven’t.”

“Harry, believe me. I’ve seen you in a lot of weird positions over the years, but I’ve never seen you completely nude.” Y/N feels her regular ease with him begin to return, just a little bit. “I would remember that.”

“Would you?” Harry cocks an eyebrow, his coffee cup half raised to his lips.

The bit of ease that returned disappears immediately. “I—” Y/N’s cheeks heat up again. “Shut up, you know what I meant.”

Harry tries to hide his laugh behind his coffee, but fails. “I’m just teasing you, love.  It’s fine, promise.  I don’t mind that you saw.  I’m very comfortable in my body.”

Y/N rolls her eyes. “Too comfortable, I think.”

“Is there such a thing as being too comfortable in your body?” Harry asks in a teasing voice, crossing his arms.

“When your best friend walks in on you naked and you don’t bother to cover yourself?” Despite the blush on her cheeks, Y/N manages to laugh. “Yes.  There is.”

“I don’t know…” Harry finishes his coffee and sets the mug in the kitchen sink. “It sounds like there’s issues with your comfort, not mine.”

Before Y/N can form a reply, Harry shoots her a smirk and walks out of the kitchen.

For the rest of the day, Y/N does her best not to think about that morning’s awkward encounter. Brunch with her friends is normal, and she just lets herself enjoy having Harry home, and catching up with everyone.  The afternoon also passes in an unremarkable way, as does that night.  Over the next few days, however, things begin to change.

Within two weeks, the atmosphere of the country has shifted.  There’s a virus that’s highly contagious and can be fatal, Y/N’s work tells her to work from home, and soon the entire country is being told to stay home to avoid catching Coronavirus.

And then Harry texts her two days later, without any warning or leeway for her to disagree.

I’m on the last flight back to London.  Pack a bag and bring some groceries to my place, so we can isolate together.  You’ll go crazy alone in your flat.

Y/N tries to reply that it’s not necessary, but her message doesn’t go through.  Harry’s already on the plane.  So she does what he says, and packs a bag of clothes, her work bag, some alcohol, and her favourite snacks, and drives over to his house.

Letting herself in with her key, Y/N begins to bring the house back to life.  She lights Harry’s candles and orders some dinner, as well as groceries for the next couple weeks.  She makes sure she gets his favourite foods, and the weird snacks that only he likes.  She calls her mum to tell her she’ll be with Harry, and Anne, to tell her the same thing. And then she waits.

When Harry finally walks through the front door, he looks more like the tired seventeen year old on his first tour than the grown man she had seen a few weeks ago.  The bags under his eyes are evidence of his jetlag and stress, his jacket is rumpled from the plane, his hair just as messy, and he looks like he could collapse the second the door closes behind him.

“H.” Y/N walks towards him and gives him a tight hug.  One hand goes to his back and the other to his hair, playing with it as she always does. “Are you alright?”

“Long flight.” Harry mutters in reply, eyes closed as he holds her tight. “Everyone’s going insane in the States.  I’m lucky I got a flight back to London.”

“Why did you?” Y/N pulls back, brushing his messy hair from his eyes. “You could’ve stayed in LA.”

“Yeah, but…” Harry shrugs a bit. “I knew you’d be alone.  And I wanted to be with you.”

Y/N can’t help the soft smile that creeps onto her face. “C’mon.  I have dinner ready.”

Harry barely makes it through dinner with his eyes open, but still insists on watching a movie after. Y/N tries to tell him that he should just go to sleep, but he won’t hear it.

“We can watch it in my bed, like we used to when we were little.” Harry gives her his best puppy dog eyes. “Please?”

Y/N shoves his shoulder. “You’re twenty-six.  Stop pouting to get what you want.”

“I’ll stop pouting when it stops working.”

Y/N laughs in spite of herself. “Fine, but shower first.  You smell like a plane.”

Of course, as predicted, Harry starts to drift to sleep within the first half hour of the movie. He slips down in the bed more and more, until his head is in Y/N’s lap completely.  Out of habit, Y/N begins to play with his damp curls, running her fingers through them at a steady pace as she watches the movie.

Harry’s breathing begins to even out as she does, and Y/N begins to pay more attention to him than the TV.  When they spend the night with each other, Y/N always falls asleep first.  It’s rare she gets to see him completely relaxed.

As much as she loves his green eyes, his eyelashes may be a close second.  They’re so long and dark that they almost make Y/N jealous.  And his cheeks…she brings one hand up to gently touch them.  They’re stubbled from his long day of travel, but the skin underneath feels soft. Despite having lost his baby fat years ago, there’s still a layer of tenderness in his body.

Y/N is so distracted by him that she doesn’t realize that she’s stopped playing with his hair, not until Harry speaks up.

“Why’d you stop?” His voice is groggy with exhaustion, lower, with a thicker accent.  His words slur together as well

“Hm?” Y/N hums in her throat in response. “I thought you were asleep.”

“Not really.” Harry’s eyes stay closed as he shifts his position a bit. “Will you play with my hair a bit longer?  Feels nice.”

The movie credits roll in the background as Y/N does what he says.  Harry sighs contently, relaxing back into her again.

Y/N turns the TV off, so the only light in the room comes from the moon through the open curtains. It shines over half of Harry’s face, catching the ends of his eyelashes.  Somehow, the moonlight makes his cheeks and lips even more pink.  

“You’re really pretty, y’know that?” Y/N says it absentmindedly, her fingers still combing through Harry’s curls.

“Thanks.” He has just enough energy to mumble a response. “’M, not as pretty as you, though.”

Y/N’s stomach flutters when he says it, so quiet that she’s not even certain she heard him correctly. “Liar.”

“’S true.” Harry’s reply is even less audible than before. “So pretty.”

If Harry was awake and more present in the conversation, Y/N might tease him.  She might try to make him blush, or roll his eyes, or laugh. Maybe, just maybe, she’d even ask him to elaborate, just enough that she could figure out what the fluttering in her stomach means.

But Harry is hardly awake right now.  And it wouldn’t be fair.

“Go to sleep, H,” is all Y/N says, shifting to lay down a bit more without pausing the movement of her fingers.

…

It takes Harry a few days to readjust to London time.  While Y/N spends her weekdays working from the kitchen table, Harry naps and fiddles with his guitar and journal.  While she can tell he’s working on something, Y/N can also tell that he’s not making much process.

A week after coming back from LA, Harry half stomps into the kitchen during the afternoon, frustration clear on his face as he opens the fridge and grabs an apple.  He bites into it angrily and leans against the counter, the irritation still on his face.

Y/N glances at him from behind her laptop. “Everything alright?”

Harry gives half a shrug. “Trying to write.”

“And how’s that going?”

“Fucking sucks.” Harry takes another bite of the apple. “I thought I’d feel more inspired, being at home and not having deadlines, but I can’t get anything out.  Not anything good, anyways.”

“I know the feeling.” Y/N sighs as she closes her laptop. “There’s been a huge surge in online orders, and my boss wants me to create more promo material, but it’s hard to focus on anything right now.”

Harry nods and glances out the window. “Doesn’t help that it’s a beautiful day, but we can’t go out.”

“We can go out.  We just can’t leave the property.” Y/N replies. “You have a giant backyard.  Why don’t you use it?”

“Yeah.  Maybe I’ll go for a swim.” Harry takes another bite of his apple. “You want to come?”

Y/N laughs a bit. “Unlike you, H, I have a real nine to five job.  I’m on the clock for another two hours.”

“After, then.” Harry tosses his apple core in the compost and gives her a grin. “I hope you packed that yellow bikini.”

Y/N crumples a piece of scrap paper in her hand and throws it at him. “Piss off.”

Y/N did, in fact, pack her yellow bikini.  However, when she’s changing from her clothes into a swimsuit, she chooses her blue bikini instead, just to have a bit of agency.  Every instinct in her is telling her to wear what Harry said to, and it’s a little concerning.  She’s never cared about dressing for him before, and she isn’t prepared to start.

Despite the different colour, Harry still grins from the edge of the pool when he sees her walk out. “Look at you.  Should’ve put you in the Watermelon Sugar music video.”

“Shut up.” Y/N sits on the edge of the pool, dangling her lets in the water.  Harry rests his head on his arms, his cheeky grin still on his face as he looks up at her.

“I’m serious.” He says innocently. “It was a fun day.  You really would’ve liked it.”

“Of course you thought it was fun; you had a bunch of beautiful girls fawning over you and feeding you fruit.” Y/N rolls her eyes from behind her sunglasses. “You’re such a narcissist.”

“All musicians are narcissists, love.  At least, the best ones are.” Harry’s grin grows as he pushes away from the ledge. “Are you going to just sit there and look pretty, or are you actually going to swim?”

“I’m going to tan.” Y/N leans her head back, enjoying the feeling of the warm sun.

Harry shakes his head. “No, sorry.  The pool is for swimming only.”

“Says who?”

“Says me.”

In hindsight, Y/N should’ve known what Harry was about to do.  She’s been friends with him long enough that she knows how his brain works. However, Y/N is enjoying the sun so much that she lets her guard down for one moment, and that one moment is all Harry needs.

She feels his hands grip her legs, and before she can stop him, he pulls her into the pool.  Her entire body submerges, and when she finally rises, gasping for air, the only thing she can hear is Harry’s snickering.

“You’re such an ass!” Y/N hits his shoulder hard, not caring about leaving a mark on him. “That’s not funny!”

“The pool is for swimming only.  I told you.” Harry can’t stop laughing long enough to make it through his sentence clearly. “Them’s the rules.”

“Them’s the rules.” Y/N repeats in a mocking voice, hitting him one more time. “You’re the worst.”

“Maybe, but you’re stuck with me.” Harry runs a hand through his wet hair. “At least until quarantine is done.”

“I should’ve stayed alone in my apartment.” Y/N mutters, tossing her wet sunglasses on the pool ledge. “Would’ve been so much more peaceful.”

“And boring.” Harry points out. “And you wouldn’t get to take relaxing swims like this!”

“Right.  Relaxing.” Y/N splashes him playfully. “Jerk.”

Harry just grins at you.

…

“Want one?”

Y/N glances at Harry as he packs loose marijuana into a wrapper, concentration clear on his face as he rolls it.

“You learn how to roll those in LA?” Y/N asks, taking a sip of her wine.

Harry chuckles lightly, his skin illuminated by the fire burning in front of them and the moon above them. “Yeah.  I’m not very good, though.  Usually I have somebody else to roll them for me.”

“So high maintenance.”

Another low laugh rolls out of Harry’s mouth. “Ha.  High maintenance.”

Y/N rolls her eyes, but an endearing smile is on her face. “It’s still illegal in the U.K., you know.”

“I doubt the police are going to break social distancing rules to arrest me for it.” Harry’s tongue pokes out of his mouth as he tries his best to roll the joint tightly.

Y/N watches as Harry brings the wrapper to his mouth, licking it lightly.  To her dismay, her attraction to Harry had yet to fade, and spending every moment of the day together wasn’t helping.

“I’m not an eighteen year old girl on your tour bus anymore, Harry.” Y/N raises her wine glass. “I drink red wine now.  I’m sophisticated.”

Harry snorts, his eyes flickering to her before looking back down at the joint. “Sophisticated, right. Like you didn’t do body shots off the bartender at your birthday party this year.”

Y/N’s cheeks burn. “Birthdays don’t count.”

“Neither did tour buses, and neither does my backyard in the middle of a pandemic.” Harry seals the joint as best he can. “You may have a fancy job now, but you’re still my Y/N.”

His Y/N.  That phrase ignites the now familiar flutter in her stomach and, over the last few days, her core.  Something about Harry identifying her as his drives Y/N insane, even if it’s nothing new.

“And what exactly does your Y/N do?” She manages to say after a moment.

“She doesn’t take shit from anyone.  She gets drunk fast and high faster.  She’s always down for a laugh.  And, although she won’t admit it, she has a tendency to make bad decisions that she tries to suppress, but can’t always manage to do so.” Harry sparks his lighter and sticks the joint between his lips, lighting it and puffing it quickly.

“Then you should know that your Y/N can’t have a joint of her own.” Y/N steals the joint from Harry’s lips, taking a few puffs of her own from it before handing it back.

The smoke curls in her lungs, forcing a few coughs from her.

“Alright?” Harry asks, concern in his eyes.

Y/N nods, her hand pressed to her chest like she can stop the burn. “Yeah.  Just haven’t done that in a while.”

“You always cough so much. It would be cute if it wasn’t so bloody concerning.” Harry says casually, lifting the joint to his lips and inhaling.

Y/N watches as he exhales smoke slowly.  She wonders if she looks as attractive as he does when she blows out smoke.

Harry grins at her with just the corner of his mouth, like there’s a secret tugging at the edge of his lips.

Y/N really doubts it.

“Here.” Harry places the joint between her lips. “Inhale slowly.”

Y/N does as he says, doing her best to keep from coughing until the joint and his hand is away from her face.  Her eyes burn a bit, both from the smoke and the oncoming high that’s starting to twist through her body.

“That’s a good girl.” Harry praises her before leaning back, placing the joint back between his own lips. “You’ve gotten better at that.  Thought you were going to pass out the first time we smoked, remember?”

“I remember I almost did.” Y/N giggles to herself as she settles down into the couch more. “I coughed so much that I thought I was going to die on that tour bus.”

“Niall was certain you had.” Harry laughs too, and Y/N known they’re both playing back the same memory. “Wasn’t quite sure how we were going to explain that one to Paul.  Neither was I, honestly.”

“You don’t give me enough credit.” Despite the feeling coming over her, YN still takes another sip of her wine. “I was fine.”

Harry nods as he finishes the joint, setting the butt down into his ash tray. “Still…we had some fun nights on the bus when you were there.”

“That was a fun summer.” Y/N agrees, her eyes fixed on the fire before them. “Lots of good memories.”

As Y/N watches the fire, Harry watches her.  He lets another moment or two pass before speaking again.

“When you were on tour with us that summer…” He rubs his lips absentmindedly. “You and Niall.  Did you two ever…?”

“What?  Fuck?” The weed and the alcohol take away the careful tone of Y/N’s regular speech, leaving honesty and bluntness behind.

Harry laughs once. “I was going to say date, but yeah.  I guess so.”

“We didn’t date. We fooled around a few times.” Y/N shrugs, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “He was fun.  But we both knew it wasn’t anything serious, just something to do while I was on tour with you.”

Harry nods a bit, reaching for his own drink and taking a sip.  Y/N watches the movement with heavy lidded eyes.  His arm muscles flex underneath his tattooed skin when he moves, and the way his fingers wrap around his glass is fascinating to her.

“I figured he would have told you.” Y/N pulls her sweater around her tighter.  Now that the sun has set completely, a chill has appeared. “You guys always talked about girls together.”

“No, he didn’t tell me. And I didn’t ask.” Harry keeps his glass in his hand, looking down at it with an unreadable expression. “I thought you might tell me, but you didn’t, either.”

The substances in Y/N’s system are clouding her mind, but she does her best to focus on Harry’s words. As a way to ground herself, she pulls her sweater away from her body, hoping that the cold air will help.

“I’m sorry.” She says slowly, like it takes all her effort to get the words out. “I didn’t mean to…hurt your feelings.”

“You didn’t.”

“Oh.” Confusion fogs Y/N’s mind. “Then…why is it bothering you?”

“It’s not bothering me.” Harry denies, finishing off his drink. “I was just wondering why.  You usually tell me everything.  You always have.”

Y/N bites her lip. “I don’t tell you about every person I sleep with.”

Harry hums low in the back of his throat, but offers no other response.

After a few minutes, Y/N stands up. “I think I’m going to head to bed.”

Twisting his empty glass around in his hands, Harry nods. “Alright.  I’ll be up in a little bit.”

“You know, you have a guest room.” Y/N pauses, fiddling with the bottom of her sweater.  Her skin feels unsettled, and the fabric against it isn’t helping. “I should probably start using it.  Social distancing, and all that.”

Harry looks up at her, a stubborn look reflecting in his eyes. “No.  I sleep better with you beside me.”

When Harry finally comes up to bed an hour later, Y/N is still awake, eyes closed, with her back away from the door and head toward the wall.  She doesn’t turn over when she hears the door creak open, and instead just listens to the rustling sounds of Harry changing, going to the bathroom, washing his hands, and returning to the bedroom.

Y/N feels his weight on the bed, but doesn’t hear him slide in next to her.  Instead, she does her best to stay completely relaxed when she feels his fingers brush against her hairline, pushing back a few loose strands.

Staying completely relaxed, it turns out, is easier thought than done.  The moment Harry touches her, Y/N feels the nerves in her face burst to life. It’s like electricity, like nothing she’s ever felt before from any previous touches from Harry.  Behind her closed eyes, Y/N feels her head spinning, but she’s certain it must be the weed and the alcohol in her system.

Finally, the sheets are pulled back, and Harry gets under the covers.  He pulls Y/N back against him, and Y/N can feel the hot skin of his chest pressed against her shoulders.  Harry takes a moment to adjust before sighing, almost in content, and then he presses a gentle kiss to the back of her shoulder.

The tender action leaves Y/N speechless.  The action itself isn’t new; they had always been very physically affectionate with each other.  But there’s something about the moment that Y/N can’t quite place a finger on. Perhaps she would be able to if she was sober, or less tired, but with her brain in its current state, the words she needs are lost, and she’s certain she won’t remember the feeling in the morning.

Harry inhales deeply, his nose buried in her hair, and sighs again.  Y/N can feel him relaxing back against her, but his arms stay wrapped around her tightly.  It’s a comforting embrace, and makes it easy for Y/N’s mind to finally quiet and drift off.

…

“You’re still working?”

Y/N looks up from her laptop to see Harry standing above her, sweaty from his workout.  His hair is tied up in a little ponytail on top of his head, and he has a towel wrapped around his shoulders that he uses to wipe sweat from his face.  His body is literally glistening in the sunlight, and Y/N suddenly finds it very hard to focus on her work.

“I am.” She says finally, closing the lid of her laptop and stretching out on the beach chair. “Or I was. I’m done for today.”

“Good.” Harry sits down on the chair next to her. “I’m going to have a shower, but I was thinking we should try baking something later.”

Y/N raises an eyebrow. “Why?”

“Because I want cupcakes, and homemade are way better than store bought.” Harry says easily, stealing Y/N’s water and taking a gulp from it.

Y/N watches his throat move as he swallows the water, how his Adam’s apple bobs, how he licks his lips when he finally pulls the glass away from his mouth.

Y/N’s own mouth suddenly feels very dry.

“Alright, yeah.” Y/N nods weakly. “We can bake something later.  It’ll be fun.”

…

“It’ll be fun.” Y/N shakes her head in disbelief. “God, I can’t believe I said that.”

“It was fun!” Harry argues, holding up a red velvet cupcake. “And we did it!”

“And we made a mess.” Y/N gestures to the kitchen around them, which looks like a warzone.  Flour, powdered sugar, and cocoa powder cover every counter surface.  There are broken eggshells on the counter, splatters of batter everywhere, and both Y/N and Harry have dyed red hands from food colouring.

“It could be worse.” Harry shrugs, clearly untroubled. “C’mon.  Try a cupcake.”

Y/N reaches for one, but Harry simply lifts the one in his hand to her mouth.  She locks eyes with him as she takes a bite, the icing smearing across her top lip.

Y/N chews slowly and swallows hard. “Yeah.  They’re good.”

Harry extends a hand, and his finger runs along her lip, collecting the icing.  He pops it into his mouth, sucking for a moment before humming in agreement. “Yeah.  Sweet.”

The cupcakes, it turns out, pair well with watermelon cocktails, and soon Y/N and Harry are sitting on the couch, takeout and cupcakes in front of them and drinks in their hands as they giggle and talk.  They’re intoxicated, but not just from the alcohol in the strong drinks that Harry makes.

“Honestly, working from home isn’t ideal, but it’s not that bad.” Y/N pops a bite of food into her mouth, chewing thoughtfully. “Definitely not the worst part of quarantine.”

“Yeah?” Harry leans back on the couch. “What’s the worst part?”

Y/N shrugs. “It sucks being away from people, cooped up inside.”

Harry nods, but his face looks wistful. “I miss sex.”

Y/N laughs, but she nods in agreement as well. “Fuck, I know.  I miss sex so much.”

“It’s nice, you know? A good way to burn some energy…always sleep so well after…” Harry sighs, taking a sip of his drink between his phrases. “I feel like I’m back on a tour bus again, with no one around but my hand.”

A giggle escapes Y/N’s mouth. “How tragic.” She also takes a sip of her drink, and tries to stop herself from making a face.  Harry really does make them strong. “I just miss touching.  I haven’t been this touch starved since I was seventeen.”

Harry makes a scoffing noise in the back of his throat. “We touch.”

“That’s different.” Y/N finishes her drink. “That’s friendly touching.  It’s not what I meant.”

“What did you mean, then?” Harry challenges her, a glint in his eyes that Y/N’s come to recognize as a sign of trouble.

She refuses to take the bait. “You know what I meant.”

“I don’t.” Harry says it innocently, and he reaches forward to take her glass from her. “How about I get us some refills while you think of how to say it?”

Y/N lets him take the glass (she loves his drinks, despite how strong they are), but shakes her head. “Stop being an ass.  You know exactly what I meant.”

A low laugh rolls out of Harry as he walks to the built-in bar he has in the lounge.  He begins to recreate the drinks, muddling this, adding a splash of that.  If Harry wasn’t already a rock star, she’d suggest he become a mixologist.

“Maybe I do know what you meant.” Harry shakes the cocktail shaker with ease before straining the liquid out over their glasses, which he’s filled with fresh ice. “But I want to hear you say it.”

Y/N runs a hand through her hair.  She feels warm from the alcohol, and the lit candles around them aren’t helping.  The food and cupcakes sit on the table, all but forgotten in their new conversation. “Say what?”

Harry’s lips pull up in a smirk, but his eyes show something else.  He walks back over and hands her the drink before taking a seat next to her again. “The kind of touching you miss.”

Their fingers touch as Y/N takes the glass from him, and suddenly the warmth of the room feels ten times hotter. “You want me to say it?”

Harry lifts his glass to his lips, but keeps his eyes on her. “I do.”

“I…” Y/N takes a sip of the drink (which is stronger than the one before) and then presses the cold glass to her cheek. “I miss touching.  Intimate touching.  And…being touched intimately.”  

Harry inhales deeply, stretching out his shoulders before responding. “Yeah.  I miss that too.  Holding hands, touching someone’s stomach, chest, legs…having them play with my hair…”

“I play with your hair.” Y/N says defensively, a crease appearing between her eyebrows.

Harry laughs once. “Right, but like you said…that’s different.”

Y/N clears her throat. “Right.”

Harry takes a long sip from his drink. “’S still nice, though.” Harry adds after a moment, licking his lips. “I love when you play with my hair.  You know that.”

Nodding softly, Y/N begins to trail a finger over the rim of her glass.  Whenever she begins to get tipsy, she begins to fidget more, and feel freer in her actions.  And when Y/N glances back at Harry, she can tell he recognizes the sign as well.

“What about you?” He asks, bringing her back from her thoughts. “What do you miss having people do?”

Y/N drinks again, pulling her knees to her chest as she leans against the couch’s armrest. “I miss…having my hair played with, too.  That’s always nice.  I miss having my fingers played with…neck kisses…I like when people, like, rub my arms or thighs, just absentmindedly…” She leans her head against her arm. “Your turn.”

“My turn?” Harry rubs his nose lightly, and Y/N can tell he’s feeling the alcohol, too. “What’s my turn?”

“Tell me what else you like.” Y/N smiles softly, a small laugh just barely bubbling out from her. “We’ve never actually talked about it, H.  Isn’t that strange?”

Harry turns to face her more, pausing to think for a moment. “I suppose we’ve never been specific before, yeah.” He taps his thumb against his H ring. “I like being in control, usually. Telling them what to do, where to touch me…” His eyes get a faraway look in them. “But sometimes it’s nice to give up control.  Have someone else…”

“Decide.” Y/N finishes his sentence for him when he trails off. “Yeah.  I’m more like that, I think.  I usually let someone else decide.  But I like the in-between, too.  Like…both exploring each other.”

“What do you mean?” Harry cocks his head to the side curiously.

Y/N shrugs loosely, her finger still tracing her glass. “’S hard to explain.”

Harry’s voice is low when he replies, almost like he’s somewhere else. “Try.”

“Well…” Y/N takes a drink before setting her glass down. “It’s like…do you remember your first time?”

Harry blinks, surprised at the question, but nods. “Yeah.  I do.”

“And remember how nervous you were?”

“Yeah.”

“And like…” Y/N plays with her fingers as she ponders her next words. “You were nervous, yeah, but there was also this excitement in you.  Kind of like…a breathlessness.  And you looked at the other person and knew they…”

Harry closes his eyes for a moment. “Felt the same.”

“Yeah.” Y/N tucks her hair behind her ears. “And just, like, being comfortable with them, and knowing you could both explore, and ask questions, and you were both together…” Y/N feels heat rise to her cheeks as she trails off. “I don’t know.  I feel like that’s rare, but I—it’s nice.  I like it.”

“Yeah.” Harry rubs his thumb over his lip as he shifts his position on the couch. “It’s nice, yeah. Rare, usually.  But nice.”

“I think it’s rare, because, like—” The alcohol makes it harder for Y/N to gather her thoughts, but also harder to sensor them. “I don’t know, I feel like when I was younger, and hadn’t had sex yet, I took more time with, like, finding the right person? Like I wanted it to be with someone who loved me for the first time, and someone I was comfortable with, and it was. And then after, the love part didn’t matter so much for me.” Y/N glances at Harry, who seems to be hanging on her every word. “Which, like, was fine.  What mattered to me the most was that whoever I had sex with respected me. And they did, so that was…good. But it’s different.” Y/N rubs her arms. “I don’t know if that makes sense…”

“It does.” Harry assures her, placing a light hand on her knee.  He begins to rub small circles. “Keep going.”

“I just think that, like, that in-between, breathless, exploring each other kind of thing…the comfort…that’s rare because it only really happens with someone you love.” Y/N murmurs. “At least, that’s how it is for me.  And I haven’t really been in love much in my life.”

“I’ve been in love probably too much.” Harry admits, his hand still on Y/N’s knee. “Too much to be good for me.”

Y/N shakes her head adamantly. “No, H.  That’s good. That’s…brave.  You’re not afraid of how you feel.  Most people are.”

“Maybe.” Harry finishes his drink again with one long gulp.  

Y/N watches as he does, seeing a little drip of liquid slip from the corner of his mouth.  She can’t stop herself from leaning forward and wiping it away with her thumb, feeling the stubble of Harry’s chin scratch against her.

Harry watches her with hooded eyes as she leans back to her previous position.  His hand slips a bit higher, from her knee to her lower thigh, but she doesn’t say anything.

“Who have you been in love with?” He asks.  His words are slurred a bit, and his accent seems thicker.

“My first boyfriend, Parker. You remember him.” Y/N sighs, closing her eyes as she herself remembers. “And…Christian, from university.  We were together for two years.  That’s it, I think.”

Despite the alcohol, Harry’s face still shows some surprise. “Really?  No one else?  No one since Christian?”

Y/N shrugs. “I’ve dated, yeah, and had relationships, but…I don’t know.  I didn’t love any of them.  I was…infatuated.  But I never…it was intense, but like—intense like a spark.  Nothing prolonged.”

Harry hums in response. “Thought you were going to say Niall for a moment.  He was pretty torn up when you went back to school after that summer.”

Y/N’s face mimics Harry’s surprise from a moment ago. “Was he?”

“Yeah.  Moped around a bit, spent time by himself, on his phone every two minutes…” Harry’s expression shows the difficulty it’s taking him to think back eight years while drunk. “I knew it was because you left.  Thought you two had an…agreement, or something.”

“An agreement?” A giggle escapes Y/N. “This isn’t a Jane Austen book, Harry.  We didn’t have an agreement.” Once she gets her laughter out, she sighs. “He was that upset?”

“Yeah.” Harry scratches the back of his neck. “So I thought…he must be in love with you.  And you were…”

“No, I wasn’t.” Y/N says softly. “He was so upset that you thought he was in love with me?”

“Yeah.”

Y/N bites her lip. “Was he more upset than you?”

Harry takes a moment to reply, looking at her with a serious expression.  His lips are so red, and his eyes are so green, and both of them are so drunk that neither of them can sense the meaning behind what they’re saying.

“No.” Harry finally responds. “He wasn’t.”

…

“Good morning.”

“Shhh.” Y/N covers her eyes with her arm. “Don’t yell in my ear.”

“I whispered.” Harry counters, but his voice is a bit quieter this time. “Do you have a headache?”

“I didn’t know something flavoured with watermelon could make me feel so shitty.” Y/N groans a bit, shifting on the bed without opening her eyes. “What did you do to me?”

When Harry laughs, it’s not audible, but Y/N can feel it through his chest pressed against her side.

“How are you completely fine right now?” She asks, rubbing her eyes.

“I’m used to it.  I’ve always been way better with hangovers than you.” Harry presses a small kiss to her shoulder before getting up. “How does breakfast in bed sound?”

“Normally amazing, but I can’t eat right now.” Y/N mutters. “How about coffee in bed?”

“Sure.” Harry smiles a bit. “You look cute like this.”

“Shut up.”

Harry returns ten minutes later with a tray of coffee, toast, and eggs, of which he manages to coax Y/N to take a few bites.  She doesn’t really want it, but she knows it’s easier to do as he says instead of arguing.

“How about we have a movie day today?” Harry suggests after breakfast. “In bed, since it seems like you won’t be moving anytime soon.”

“And who’s fault is that?” Y/N glares at him from the top of her coffee cup.

Harry raises his hands in defense. “Hey, I didn’t make you drink.  You chose to.”

“I know, but it’s easier to blame you.”

Harry rolls his eyes. “Is that why you’ve been doing it for twenty years?”

“Exactly.”

Harry carefully lifts the empty tray to the ground before holding up the remote. “You can pick the movies.”

Y/N bites her lip. “If we watch Titanic, will you make fun of me when I cry?”

“Of course not.  I’ll even cry with you out of solidarity.”

“Alright.” Y/N settles back into the blankets. “Put it on, then.”

It’s easy for them to be like this, Y/N thinks, as Harry pulls her into his arms when the movie starts. It’s always been so natural for them to be physical and affectionate with each other.  They’ve never acted any other way.

Except this doesn’t feel like any other way.

Yes, Y/N has watched countless movies while cuddling in bed with Harry.  But has he ever whispered in her ear like that before?  Has he ever rubbed her sides so carefully before? Has he ever let his lips rest on the bare skin of her shoulder, almost at the base of her neck?

Y/N can’t recall. However, she’s certain that if he had, it hasn’t felt so electric.

“Look at them.  Look at how Jack watches her.” Harry murmurs his words directly in Y/N’s ear as they watch Jack draw Rose.  Y/N can feel his lips brushing against her, and the heat of his breath and tone of his voice makes her shiver.

“She’s very pretty.” Y/N nods, shifting in Harry’s arms.  She likes how warm he feels.

“I suppose, but that’s not what I meant.” Harry traces shapes on her arm. “I meant look at how he looks at her.  Do you think they have the kind of love you talked about last night?”

Y/N glances over her shoulder at him, surprised he remembers their conversation. “I think so.  Do you?”

“Yeah.” Harry says in a low voice.  He says no more, so Y/N turns back to face the television.

They continue to watch in silence, gripping each other a bit tighter as the Titanic begins to sink. As they watch a mother reading to her two young children in bed, Y/N begins to lose her composure, like always. Tears well in her eyes, and she lets out a quiet hitched breath, a single sniffle.

“It’s alright, love.” Harry’s hands move to her stomach, holding her tighter to comfort her. “Don’t cry.”

Y/N can hear the tears in his voice, just as they’re in her own. “Can’t help it.  This part and the band and the old couple in bed—they always get me.”

“I know.” Harry rubs his thumb along your side.

Y/N reaches behind her without turning around, threading her fingers through Harry’s messy curls.  She plays with them absentmindedly as she watches, and tries to ignore how right it feels to be close to him like this.  She wonders if he notices it, too.

Harry presses a chaste kiss to her shoulder.

…

The day they hit the one month mark of quarantine, Harry sits across from Y/N at breakfast with a determined look on his face.

“I have a proposition for you.”

Y/N glances up at him, her attention barely shifting from her book. “A proposition?”

“Yeah.”

“What kind of proposition?” Y/N tilts her head to the side.  What she first thought was just determination on Harry’s face, she realizes, is actually determination and mischief, and she knows it won’t end well.

“I haven’t had a tattoo in a while.” Harry steals a strawberry from Y/N’s plate. “And I have a machine here, so I was thinking you could give me one.”

Y/N stares at Harry incredulously as he pops the strawberry in his mouth. “Are you out of your mind?”

“Probably.”

“I’m a terrible artist, Harry.  You know that.” Y/N shakes her head. “And even if I wasn’t, I have no idea how to tattoo someone!”

“You can watch a YouTube tutorial, or read a WikiHow.” Harry sighs loudly. “I’m so bored in isolation!”

“What do you even want tattooed?” Y/N eyes the intricate tattoos on his arms suspiciously. “I doubt I could do something like your ship.”

“Something simple.” He shrugs. “Probably lettering.”

“Probably?” Y/N says suspiciously.

“That’s why I want you to do it.  I want it in your handwriting.”

Harry’s tone is easy, but it makes her breathing shallow.

“You do?”

“Yeah.  I was thinking of something to remind me of this time, because of how weird it is.”

Despite her increased heartbeat, Y/N laughs. “What, do you want me to tattoo COVID-19 on you?”

“No.  Be a little more creative than that.” Harry scoffs.

“Why do I have to be creative?”

“Because I want you to decide what I get.”

Y/N’s eyes widen. “You’re not serious.”

“I am!  Why is that so hard to believe?” Harry asks. “I trust you. And you’re good with words.”

“No.  Absolutely not.”

…

“Make sure my drink has two shots in it.” Y/N calls to Harry as she looks over the tattoo supplies on the living room table.

Harry laughs. “I’m not sure I want my tattoo artist to be drunk.”

“The only way I’ll even be your tattoo artist is if I’m drunk.” She counters. “I still think this is an awful idea.”

Harry hands Y/N a tall glass with a light pink liquid in it. “Drink this, and you’ll change your mind.”

Y/N takes the glass and takes a large gulp, not focusing on the taste of the mixers, but the liquid courage behind them.

Harry grins, lifting his own glass. “Cheers.”

“Shut up and sit down.” Y/N mutters.  She ties her hair back before grabbing the disinfectant wipes. “Where do you want this?”

“My upper inner arm. I already shaved it for you.” Harry smirks as he points to the area, which is easily exposed in his loose tank top.

“And you’re sure I can write it with pen?” Y/N asks nervously as she disinfects the area.

“Mhmm.” Harry leans back comfortably in his chair. “What did you decide on?”

“It’s a secret.” Y/N uncaps the pen, getting closer to him.

“So I can’t know until after it’s on me permanently?”

“Is that a problem?” Y/N asks innocently. “I thought you trusted me?”

Harry chuckles. “I did say that, didn’t I?”

“Also that I’m good with words.” Y/N makes sure Harry’s head is turned away before she carefully writes the phrase she chose.  Then she snaps on gloves and starts the machine like she watched in videos early that day.

“You’re fine, love.” Harry assures her, seeing the nervous look on her face. “It’s a small tattoo. It’ll only take a few minutes.”

“Quiet.” Y/N mutters. “I need to focus.”

True to Harry’s word, the small tattoo only takes a few minutes to finish.  When it’s done, Y/N gives it one final wipe before setting the machine down and taking off her gloves.

“Alright.” She picks up her glass and drains it completely. “You can look.”

Harry peers at his arm, curiosity clear on his face.  There, in Y/N’s loopy handwriting is the phrase “touch me.”

“It looks so fucking good, Y/N.” Harry grins at her. “You did amazing!”

“I didn’t fuck it up?” She asks, chewing on her lip anxiously. “Is it alright?”

“You did a lovely job.” Harry smiles. “Wrap it for me?”

Y/N does as he asks, carefully wrapping the fresh tattoo in plastic wrap and taping it to his arm. “I think I’ll accept my tip in the form of another drink.”

Harry snickers. “Coming right up.”

Two drinks later, they’re both back in the honest and loose headspace that they’ve grown familiar with. It’s not enough that they’re unaware of their actions, but both Y/N and Harry know that their lips are looser because of the liquor in their systems.

They’ve migrated to the bedroom to get comfier, but took a few items from the bar with them.  It’s with these items that Harry tops up Y/N’s glass again as he speaks.

“So tell me…” He sets the cocktail shaker on his bedside table. “Why ‘touch me’?”

“You said you wanted something to remind you of isolation.” Y/N takes a long sip of her drink. “And that’s what we both miss the most, right?  Being touched?”

Harry nods slowly, his rings clinking against his glass. “Yeah.  I’m probably going to go straight to the bars after this is all done.  Find someone there.”

He laughs lightly, showing that what he says it half a joke, but Y/N sighs wistfully and shakes her head in disagreement. “I won’t.”

“You won’t?” Harry is surprised, his laughter fading. “Why not?”

Her shrug almost causes her to spill her drink on the bed. “I don’t know.” Y/N sighs again. “I don’t really—I’m not a hookup fan.  Not right now, at least.  It’s not what I…want.”

“What do you want, then?” Harry finishes his drink, but sets the glass down instead of refilling it. “If not sex?”

“I want sex.” Y/N says defensively. “But I want—I don’t want it to be someone random.  I want sex, but I want to be…intimate.  Like, I want to know that person cares about me, and I care about them.”

Harry licks the last of his drink from his lips. “Like that breathless feeling?”

“No.  It would be nice, but no.  That takes time.” Y/N brushes her hair behind her ear. “Just…someone who cares.  I don’t want a quick fuck, I just—”

“You want to be touched. Intimately touched.” Harry takes the empty glass from Y/N’s hand and sets it down on the table next to the bed.

Y/N nods gently, her limbs feeling loose. “Yeah.  Intimately touched.”

“You know, I could…” Harry trails off, pursing his lips. “We could…do that.”

The alcohol makes Y/N slow to recognize the meaning of his words. “What?”

“I’ve noticed you…the way you look at me, it’s…different than it was.” Harry says carefully, his eyes gauging her reaction. “For the last few weeks.  And I—I know that I’m…attracted to you, too.”

“We…” Y/N struggles to think of what to say as she finally registers what’s happening. “We’re friends.”

“I know, but that doesn’t mean I can’t see you as attractive.” Harry looks down at his hands. “Don’t you…?  I mean…”

“I—yeah.  I think you’re—” Y/N laughs a bit nervously. “You’re attractive, H, you know that.  We’ve just never…discussed it.”

“I’m not saying we have to fuck, or—we don’t have to do anything.” Harry straightens his shoulders and looks you in the eye. “Just—when we touch, it’s mild.  If you want to be touched intimately, we could…”

“Like, a hand job?” Y/N says slowly, her words blunt with confusion.

Harry goes a bit red, but he shakes his head quickly. “No, Christ, that’s not what I meant, I—just—can I show you?”

“Um,” Y/N swallows hard. “Sure.”

“Okay.” Harry nods slightly, taking carefully measured breaths. “If this feels weird, or anything seems wrong, just tell me to stop, alright?”

Y/N replies faintly. “Alright.”

Nodding again, Harry moves closer on the bed, sitting on his knees so he can get closer to Y/N, who sits cross-legged.  His hands rest lightly on her bare thighs, and his rings are a cool contrast to his warm skin.

Harry begins to rub his hands up and down her thighs slowly.  His movements are measured, and he watches Y/N’s reaction carefully for a sign of her disliking his actions.  However, what he finds is a nervous but interested girl staring back at him.

“Like this.  Like, what you like.” Harry says lowly.  His hands move more to her inner thighs, but they don’t creep higher. “And…”

“And…?” Y/N asks, her heart rate increasing even more.

Harry moves one hand to the hem of Y/N’s tank top, pushing it up a bit so his hand can rest on her waist. He rubs over her warm skin, marvelling in how smooth and soft it is to his touch.  His fingers graze the lace of her bra, but he goes no higher.

“How—how’s that?” Harry asks quietly.

“It’s, um, it’s good.” Y/N replies as she struggles to keep her voice normal. “Yeah.  Good.  But, um, can you…” Harry’s movements pause at her words, and Y/N feels her cheeks get even warmer. “Maybe touch my, uh, my neck.  If you’d like.”

Harry nods, and the hand on her thigh moves to her neck.  He traces his fingers across her shoulder and over her collarbone, delighting in feeling the curves of her body.  Y/N’s breath hitches when his fingers travel up her neck, and Harry swears he can feel her pulse increase under his fingers.

Y/N’s not sure if it’s the fact that she’s touch starved from self isolating that makes Harry’s touches feel so good, or if it’s the fact that it’s Harry touching her, but she doesn’t dwell on it.  Instead, she closes her eyes and tilts her head back, allowing him better access.

She feels Harry’s breath before she feels his lips, but she’s still surprised when she feels him begin to sponge light kisses across her neck.

“H…”

“Is this alright?” He asks the question right below her ear, and yet she can barely hear him because he’s so quiet.

“Yes.” Y/N breathes. “Yeah.”

“Good.” Harry returns to pressing light kisses to her skin, his hands still rubbing over her sides and hips.

For the first time since seeing Harry naked in her bathroom, Y/N can’t deny or explain away her attraction to him.  She can’t convince herself that she doesn’t want him to touch her, because she does, and she can’t tell herself that she doesn’t need him, because she does. Every fibre of her being is telling her that she needs Harry, and she needs him now.  Her heart is pounding, her skin is on fire, and her core feels like she’d going to explode if he doesn’t do something.  And yet, Y/N can’t tell him to touch her more.  She’s frozen, mind blank, and she can only register what Harry is doing at the moment as what she wants.

Harry continues to kiss her neck, never lingering too long in one spot, never sucking too hard. Every kiss is gentle and chaste, except the few rare ones that include the tip of his tongue running over her skin.

After what feels like an eternity, Harry pulls away from her neck, face flushed.  Despite his hands still on her body, Y/N makes an involuntary sound in the back of her throat.

“Is that better?” He asks lowly, rubbing his thumb against your hip.

“I—kind of.” Y/N says softly.  If anything, she thinks, it’s worse.  She needs to satisfy the burn inside her, but she doesn’t know how.

“Good.” Harry replies, but he doesn’t take his hands off her.

Y/N’s own hands have been sitting at her sides as his moved over her body, but she raises one now, as hesitant as Harry was.  She extends it towards his arm, but pauses with her fingers right over his skin.

“Is it okay if I…?”

The corner of Harry’s lips lifts up, just barely. “Yeah, love.  Go ahead.”

Harry’s skin is warm beneath her touch.  Y/N traces the outline of his mermaid tattoo carefully before moving onto others.  She loves how his arm curves under her touch, how he stays still and lets her explore.  She appreciates it, thinking that if Harry made any sudden movements, she’d force herself to pull away.

Soon, her fingers move from tracing his tattoos to tracing the lines of his muscles.  She moves down his forearm to his hand, running her fingers over the veins that show through his tan skin, over his knuckles, down the tips of his calloused fingers and back.  

Harry sucks in a breath, and Y/N’s trance flickers for a moment as her eyes move to his face to see what’s wrong.

“Sorry, just—surprised me.” Harry says, voice low yet sheepish.  He nods down to his thigh, where Y/N realizes her own hand is resting.

“Oh—” She moves to pull her hand away, but Harry places his own on top.

“It’s fine.” He says quickly. “Keep going.”

Y/N bites her lip as she turns her attention back to his arm.  Her fingers move slowly and carefully back up his forearm to his upper arm. She traces over his tattoos while she rubs her thumb gently against the muscle, and stops her fingers at the edge of his t-shirt sleeve.  With a quick glance at Harry, she pushes the sleeve up, tucking it up on his shoulder so she can run her fingers over his ship tattoo, which is one of her favourites.

“Feels nice.” Harry murmurs, his eyes following her movements.

Y/N glances back at his face, taking in his appearance.  His lips are red from the time he spent kissing her neck, and his cheeks are still flushed.  His eyes are darker than usual, and she’s not certain if it’s the candlelight or something else causing it.  There’s a light sheen of sweat on his forehead, with a few loose curls hanging down. Out of reflex, Y/N reaches up and pushes his hair back out of his eyes.

Before she can return her hand to his arm, Harry captures it in his own.  Y/N watches as he brings it to his lips, inhaling as her wrist passes underneath his nose.  Although she’s not sure why, there’s something about seeing how much smaller her hand is in Harry’s that delights her.

Harry presses a soft kiss to her wrist, following it up with another on her palm.  Y/N’s eyelids flutter at the tender sensation.

“It’s my turn to touch you.” She says softly, her voice strained.

Harry hums in reply. “I know.” He kisses your wrist once more before looking at you. “I’ll help.”

Lifting his hand from his thigh (your hand, which was underneath, stays where it is), he pulls up his shirt just enough that he can sneak your hand underneath.  He rests it on his lower chest, and even though his shirt is still partially covering him, Y/N knows she’s touching his butterfly tattoo.

“I like to be touched here.” Harry says in the same low voice.

“Okay.” Y/N bites her lip, her head swimming with alcohol and the smell of the candles and Harry’s cologne and Harry. “It…would be easier without your shirt.”

Without breaking eye contact, save for the moment fabric covers him, Harry pulls his shirt over his head and tosses it to the side. “Better?”

Y/N’s eyes drift down to his tanned stomach.  His body is familiar and a stranger to her all at once.  She knows his tattoos, scars, every mark on his skin from a distance, but seeing it like this—touching it like this—makes her feel like she’s never truly seen him before.

“Better.” She manages to say, her hand brushing across his ribs.

Y/N spends a while exploring the planes of his stomach, the contours of his body.  When she gets to his v-lines, and runs her fingers over the ferns tattooed there, Harry shivers a bit, his hand gripping her knee tighter.

Y/N massages his thigh gently. “Alright?”

“Yeah.” Harry clears his throat. “I’m good.”

“Okay.” Y/N nods, but moves her hand further up again, over his chest and over his collar bones.  She takes a moment to trace the lines of his neck, feel the beat if his pulse underneath her fingers, and then tangles her fingers in his hair.  She uses the leverage to tilt his head back a bit, and presses her lips to the base of his neck.

Harry’s cologne smells better up close, and Y/N adores the heat of his skin on her sensitive lips. She presses small kisses over the curve of his neck, pausing over his jugular.  Her tongue darts out and she carefully licks along it before ending the motion with a kiss.

“Christ…” Harry exhales slowly, the tips of his fingers digging into her knee slightly.

Y/N knows they’re crossing the threshold of just touching each other for the sake of touching.  She can feel herself dripping in her panties, and when her eyes flicker down, she can see the outline of Harry’s half hard cock in his shorts.  Together, they’ve reached the border of friends helping each other out, and she’s certain that she wants to cross it with him.  However, she’s not sure if they should.

Pulling back enough to look Harry in the eyes, Y/N clears her throat. “H, we—what are we doing?”

Harry waits a moment to answer. “I…I don’t know.  I have no fucking clue.”

“This isn’t friendly anymore.” Y/N’s voice drops to a whisper. “It’s not just—it’s intimate, yeah, but it’s more…” Her eyes move to the outline of his hardening cock once more before looking back up at his face. “It’s more.”

“Yeah.  It’s more.” Harry moves his hand further up her thigh again, rubbing slow circles. “But I don’t want to stop.”

Y/N sucks in a breath. “You don’t?”

“It’s been so long since…” Harry trails off, his gaze drifting down to your lips before returning to your eyes. “And it’s you.  I’ve always wondered if—we—”

“I’ve wondered, too.” Y/N admits, her voice filled with nerves.  Are they really discussing this? “Especially since that day, in the bathroom—”

“I wondered if you looked then.” Harry’s voice drops lower (which Y/N didn’t think was possible). “I thought about it later that day.  I—fuck, I wanted you to look.”

A small noise escapes the back of Y/N’s throat. “This—we’ve been drinking, and—it’s the alcohol, H. Neither of us is thinking straight.”

“This isn’t the alcohol talking.  I’ve thought about—when we’re in the pool, when we cuddle, when we flirt, I—I can’t help it.” Harry closes his eyes for a brief moment, like he’s collecting himself. “I need you.  And I think…I think you need me too.”

“I do.  I need you.” Y/N touches his stubbled jaw with careful fingers. “But we’re friends.  This is going to change that.”

“We don’t know that.” Harry leans into her touch. “You said before that you wanted someone you’re comfortable with, something intimate, something breathless.  You and I are comfortable, and intimate, and—I don’t know.  All I know for sure is that I want you.”

Y/N isn’t sure if he means he wants her in a purely physical way or something more, and while she knows she should clarify that, all she can focus on is his voice and the way it’s going straight to her core.

“I want you, too.” She says simply.

Harry brings his hand to Y/N’s hip. “Can I kiss you?”

Y/N nods.  She’s not sure she’s capable of giving a verbal response.

Harry takes it upon himself to lean closer, his fingertips digging into Y/N’s skin in a way she adores. He pauses, hovering just above her lips for a moment, as if to give her time to pull away.  Instead, Y/N just waits in anticipation, delighting in the feeling of his breath running over her skin.

When he kisses her, Y/N tastes alcohol, mint, and what she swears is her own heart in the back of her throat.

Any previous kisses she’s shared with Harry have been half kisses, given in teenage games of truth or dare and in a friend’s parent’s basement.  Those kisses were safe, guarded, and an obligation.  This kiss is the exact opposite.

Although it starts chaste, it quickly grows more passionate.  Y/N can’t stop herself from tugging on Harry’s hair more than she imagines Harry can stop himself from rucking up the hem of her tank top.  His fingers dip under the band of her lace bralette as she nips at his lip, tugging slightly, delighted when a strangled sound echoes from the back of his throat.

Within minutes, Y/N’s allowed Harry to pull her to straddle his lap, his hands grabbing at her hips with a neediness she’s never seen him exhibit before.  Of course, she feels the same way, and she lets her hand run down his chest over and over, using her nails a little more each time.  Although there’s no one around to see, no party to return to, nowhere to go, Y/N wants to leave a mark.  She wants anyone who sees his chest to know that he belongs to her.

Harry breaks away from her, lips red, eyes frenzied, and breathing heavy. “Can I—?” His hands tug on the hem of her top, tugging in question.

Y/N lifts her arms in response, letting him pull it off and toss it to the side.  Harry moves back in to kiss her again, but she keeps her arms up, giving him a long look.

“You’re not done.” She says simply.

He understands right away, and his fingers find the band of her bralette again.  This time, however, he removes it slower, almost as if the removal is ritual itself, and his hands are less frantic when they return to your skin.

Harry looks at Y/Nu with wide eyes, and she understands the meaning in them: this is so much more than just touching, and so much more than two friends using each other for mutual pleasure.  With every touch, they further cross a line, and neither of them can stop.  

With this realization, Harry’s movements become more cautious.  His hands come to rest on her sides, his thumbs just brushing the side of her breast.

“You’re fine.” Y/N assures him in a soothing voice. “Keep going.”

“Are you fine?” He counters, his voice an equal mix of concern and need.

“H.” Y/N takes his hands in her own and places them over her breasts. “Like that.  Touch me like that.”

Harry sucks in a short breath as she manipulates his hands, showing him how to rub her and touch her. After a few moments, she lets her hands move to his neck, pulling him in for another kiss.

Y/N begins to grind against him, desperate for a bit of friction.  Their kisses are soon accented with their moans as they each pull the other closer in lust and need.

Still, underneath the physical desires, there’s a current running between them.  Y/N knows it’s been there for the last few weeks, humming quietly in the back of her mind, but being here, now, with Harry touching her, it’s come alive like an electric fence.  She can’t turn it off, and she doesn’t want to.  She doesn’t want to in the slightest.

Harry begins to kiss down her neck like before, but this time his kisses are anything but chaste. When he reaches her breast, he kisses around them before taking one of her nipples into his mouth.

“Oh fuck—” Y/N arches her back, fingers tangling in his hair to pull him closer. “Harry…”

He hums against her, and his spare hand rubs her back like he does when they get ready to sleep.  Usually, the motion is calming, but right now, Y/N feels anything but calm.

Harry continues until he’s satisfied with his work, and then he kisses his way to her other breast, wrapping his lips against her other nipple.  He spends just as much time on that one, letting his teeth graze it ever so slightly before soothing the action with his tongue.

When he pulls back, there’s a little line of spit connecting Harry’s mouth to her nipple, and Y/N whimpers at the sight.

“H…” She runs her finger through the line before gripping his chin with her thumb and forefinger.  The need inside her builds, as does her fondness for the man in front of her. “God…”

Harry tweaks her hard nipple with his finger, gentle enough so as not to hurt her, but enough to make a gasp fall from her mouth.  He offers no response in the form of words, but the hungry look in his eyes has only increased.

“Let me…” Y/N climbs off of his lap, gently pushing him to lay back on the bed. “Yeah?”

Harry runs a hand through his messy curls, nodding quickly. “You want that?”

“Yeah.” Y/N nods too, pressing a wet kiss to his swollen lips. “So bad.  Yeah.”

Her hands move to the waistband of his shorts, and Harry lifts his hips off the bed.  Y/N tugs down his boxers in the same movement, and tosses both articles of clothing to the side before looking back at him.

Harry’s cock is just as beautiful as she remembers it being the morning she accidentally walked in on him. Even more so, she thinks, because now he’s hard, and the head is the most appetizing shade of pink, with drops of precum pearling at the top.  When Y/N wraps her hand around his girth, she adores the heat that she feels.  

“So pretty…” She says the words almost to herself, and strokes him lightly to get used to the feeling of him in her hand. “I just want to…”

Y/N leans down and flicks her tongue over his tip, collecting the precum gathered there.  In return, a strangled moan leaves Harry’s throat as his arm moves to cover his eyes for a moment.

Y/N presses a kiss to the head of his cock before she continues licking, reveling in the sounds Harry makes.  She had no doubt, with a voice as angelic as his, that his moans and whines and whimpers would be just as beautiful.

When she wraps her lips around the head and sucks, she feels Harry’s hand move to her hair.  She looks up at him without lifting off of his cock, staring him in the eye as she takes more and more of him into her mouth.

“Fuck—” Another moan leaves Harry’s lips, more strained than the last. “That’s it…” He tugs on her hair, but doesn’t push her down.  Even when lost in pleasure, he’s careful with her.

Y/N loves him for it.

Pacing herself, she takes more and more of him into her mouth until her nose is pressed to the base of his stomach, brushing against his (neatly trimmed) pubic hair.  She stays down for just a moment before pulling up completely to breathe, but keeps her hand on him, stroking him slowly.

“You look so good.” Harry mutters, running his hands over her hair in a soothing motion. “I imagined it, but didn’t think…so much better…”

Y/N moves to push her head back down, but Harry stops her, bringing her up for a kiss instead.

“I want to taste you, now.” He tells her, laying her down on the pillows. “Is that alright?”

Y/N nods desperately, feeling even more heat rush to her core and pool there. “Mhmm.”

Harry kisses his way down her body again, slipping his fingers into the waistband of her shorts. He leaves her panties on as he pulls the shorts down, and lets out a low groan at the sight of her pink Calvin Klein panties, and more specifically, the dark pink spot that’s apparent on them.

“You’re soaked…” He presses a kiss to her sensitive inner thigh before brushing a finger over the wet spot.

Y/N jumps a bit, making a sound in the back of her throat. “Harry!”

“Sorry.” He kisses her thigh again. “I’m sorry.  Just relax, yeah?  It’s just me. I got you.”

Harry continues to kiss along her inner thighs, moving closer and closer to the thin cloth covering her center.  When he presses his first kiss to the fabric, Y/N grasps the sheets in her hands.

“God…” She whispers, fists clenched.

Harry reaches up and takes one of her hands, placing it in his hair wordlessly before kissing over her again, his tongue peaking out just a bit.

The torture continues for what feels like forever, with Harry teasing her over the soaked fabric of her panties.  Finally, Y/N sighs in relief as she feels his hands grip the fabric, and she lifts her hips eagerly as he tugs the article of clothing down.

The first thing she feels is his hot breath hitting her core, which is enough to make her legs reflexively close with pleasure.  Harry’s hand grips her leg, pushing them back open as he takes in the sight of her dripping cunt before him.

“Fuck…” He inhales deeply, committing her scent to memory. “Your pussy is so gorgeous.”

Y/N whimpers at his words and tugs on his curls. “Please, H…I need you.”

“Need me?” Harry asks in a husky voice, his finger touching her outer lips just barely.

“Yes!” Y/N whines, not caring how she sounds. “Never needed anything more…”

Harry runs his finger over her slit, collecting the wetness dripping from her.  YN moans loudly at the contact, not fully relieved but grateful for the light touch.

“So fucking wet.” Harry’s voice sounds not completely his own. “Fuck, Y/N, how are you so wet?”

Y/N feels heat rush to her cheeks, and she mumbles her reply in what’s almost an embarrassed voice. “You know exactly how.”

“Don’t even know what to do first.” Harry ignores her reply, lost in his own world as he continues stroking her slit. “Just want…”

He presses into her without warning, and Y/N arches her back off the bed as Harry’s finger slips into her cunt.  His cold rings touch the top of her entrance as Harry pauses inside her, his eyes heavy with lust.

“And so tight.” He moans, biting his lip hard enough to leave a mark. “Oh my God…”

He curves his finger inside her, wanting to feel every inch of her that he can.  Y/N continues to whimper above him.

“More.” She begs him, pushing back against his finger. “I can take more, Harry, please.”

Harry easily slips enough finger in, repeating his motion as she pushes back on him.  However, the pressure building inside Y/N disappears abruptly as his fingers do, and she’s just about to get angry at him when she feels his tongue replace his fingers.

“Fuck!” She exclaims loudly, her eyes closing as she throws her head back. “Harry—!”

Harry moves his tongue in and out of her, loving the taste of her juices in his mouth.  He moves further up to her clit, licking and sucking over the sensitive bundle of nerves as Y/N writhes above him.

“Taste so good.” He growls from between her thighs. “Fuck, Y/N…you’re going to cum for me, yeah?” He asks as he reaches up and grips her hands in his, interlocking their fingers. “Tell me you’re going to cum for me.”

Another strangled moan leaves Y/N’s mouth as he speaks. “I-I’m so close, Harry. Keep going, please.”

“Tell me.” He demands, licking over her clit again. “Tell me you’re going to cum for me.”

Y/N grinds against his tongue as she grips his hands tighter. “I’m going—fuck—I’m going to cum for you, H.  I’m going—”

Harry sucks hard on her clit, and Y/N throws her head back as an orgasm hits her harder than ever before.  Her thighs clench shut, trapping Harry’s head between them, but he just continues to lap at the juices flowing from her cunt while making the most obscene sounds Y/N has ever heard.

Harry doesn’t pull back until Y/N unclenches her thighs, and before he does, he presses one last kiss to her clit, making her flinch.  

Y/N is so exhausted she can barely open her eyes.  Once she does, however, and sees Harry, she feels all the exhaustion fade.

Harry’s lips are, somehow, even more red than before, and his whole chin is slick with her wetness.  He keeps licking his lips, like he can’t get enough of the taste, and Y/N feels like her whole body is on fire.

“Harry…” She whispers, squeezing his hand again.  She doesn’t know what else to say.

Harry lifts himself over her body, which is still shaking from her orgasm, and kisses her gently.  She can taste herself on his mouth, and she adores it.

“You taste so fucking good.” He murmurs, pressing his sweaty forehead against hers. “Like candy.”

Y/N swallows hard. “I haven’t—no one’s done that in a long time.”

“I’ll be glad to do it again.” Harry replies, brushing her hair back. “But right now…all I want to do is make love to you.” He looks at her with sincere eyes. “Will you let me?”

The tenderness of him asking almost brings tears to her eyes, and Y/N nods, her hands coming up to cup his rosy cheeks. “Yeah, H.  I’m…” She bites her lip as she realizes the truth of her words. “I’m yours.  Always.”

Harry inhales sharply before kissing her softly, his hands stroking her hair in a comforting fashion again. “How do you want to…?”

“I want you on top.” Y/N replies, touching his swallow tattoos. “I-I want to feel you.  Feel your weight.  Feel you close.”

With a nod, Harry positions himself over her, spreading her legs wide enough that his body can fit between.  He holds himself up with one hand and uses the other to guide his cock to Y/N’s folds, just brushing the head over them.  He’s teasing himself just as much as her.

“Harry…” Y/N leans her head back at the sensation. “Please, H…”

“I don’t—wait—” Harry pauses his movements, and Y/N can see on his face the strength and discipline it takes for him to do so. “I—a condom—”

“I’m clean, and I have an IUD.” Y/N assures him, running her hand along his shoulders. “Are you?”

Harry nods. “Yeah, I am, but—are you sure?”

As Y/N looks into his eyes, the love and concern and want written all over them, she knows she’s never been more sure of anything in her life. “I want to feel you, without anything in between.  I—” She takes a deep breath and presses a kiss to his jaw. “Yeah.  I’m sure.”

Harry presses a kiss to her forehead, and the tender action makes Y/N close her eyes as she revels in the feeling.  A moment later, Harry moves down again and puts his forehead against hers as he pushes into her.

The moment he enters her, Y/N feels a fullness she’s never experienced before.  Not only is Harry stretching her cunt in a way that feels euphoric, but she feels complete.  He’s as close to her as he’s ever been, his breath is mingling with hers, his body weight is held over her carefully, and Y/N thinks she could die in the pleasure of this moment happily.

“Y/N…baby…” The pet name seems to fall easily from Harry’s lips as he bottoms out, holding himself still to adjust to the feeling. “Oh my God…”

Y/N digs her fingernails into Harry’s shoulders, pressing kisses to his lips between gasps for breath. “Move, H, please.”

Harry begins to thrust his hips, setting a slow but deep pace before gradually speeding up.  While part of Y/N wishes he would thrust as fast as he can, a deeper part of her is grateful that Harry is taking his time with her.  This feeling, now that she has it, is better than anything she’d ever felt before, and Y/N doesn’t want it to end anytime soon.

Harry kisses Y/N again as he moves inside her.  Although they’re as close as they’ve ever been, each of them keeps pulling the other closer.  As Harry thrusts deeper, Y/N pulls more of his weight down on her.  As Y/N scratches her nails down his back, Harry kisses her jaw. Neither of them can process exactly what they’re doing, but neither of them can stop.  Each touch is tender, each kiss is passionate, and each moment brings them closer together in so many more ways than just physical.

They don’t speak except for the occasional whisper from Y/N for Harry to move faster, or the occasional moan of Y/N’s name falling from Harry’s lips. The only constant sounds in the room are of the slickness between Y/N’s thighs as Harry moves between them, the sound of his skin meeting hers, both of them panting and moaning, and a few whispers of “please” that are barely audible.  Despite the lack of speech, however, the two are in constant communication.  Kissing, biting, scratching, and squeezing have become the vocabulary of their new language.  When Harry looks into Y/N’s wet eyes, he knows that she feels something running through the very depths of her being.  When Y/N feels Harry tuck his head between her neck and her shoulder as he whimpers, she knows that he trusts her to comfort him and hold him there.

Soon, Y/N feels the waves of pleasure begin to build, and she knows that when they finally break, they’ll pull her under. “H, I—fuck—I—” She can’t manage to form the sentence she needs to.

Harry, however, can tell exactly what she’s going to say. “Please.” He pants, adoring how she buries her head into his shoulder. “Please, love, cum for me…” He kisses over the shell of her ear as he thrusts deeper. “Need you.”

Y/N whimpers, biting down on Harry’s shoulder as her orgasm rolls over her. Harry feels her walls tighten around his cock, but he doesn’t slow down, and he works her through her climax until she whines in his ear.

“So good, H…” Y/N can barely find the strength to whisper the phrase.

Hearing her sound so fucked out, feeling her cunt squeezing him, and seeing the euphoria on her face is enough to bring Harry to the edge.  He slows his thrusts, about to pull out, but Y/N presses on his back to keep him close.

Harry groans as a shiver rolls through his body. “I’m about to cum, Y/N—”

“Stay inside me.” She pleads, pressing the pads of her fingers between his shoulder blades. “I-I’m yours, Harry, I told you.  Yours.”

Y/N looks up at him with such trusting and vulnerable eyes that Harry can’t make himself argue with her.  He nods instead, his thrusts increasing in speed again until he feels himself reach the edge of pleasure.  

As he freefalls into Y/N, his hips stutter, and he presses deep inside her while her name falls from his lips over and over again.  He can’t think of anything else to say.  He can’t think of anything else worth saying.

When Harry finally manages to pull himself together enough to pull out, Y/N instantly feels the emptiness inside her.  She wishes he would stay, but knows that it’s not practical, and instead just relishes in the feeling of his cum dripping from her entrance.  It’s like he’s claimed her as his, left a physical mark of himself, and Y/N doesn’t have the strength to stop herself from loving it.

They lay in silence for a few moments, trying to catch their breath and regain a sense of where they are.  Both Harry and Y/N are sweaty, exhausted, and covered in each other in more ways than one.  The wrap on Harry’s tattoo has slipped from his arm.  Somewhere in their pleasure, Y/N has lost an earring.  And yet, the only thing each of them cares about is looking at the other.

Out of instinct, Harry pulls Y/N’s shivering body into his, wrapping his arms around her tightly.  He can’t imagine she’s cold, and Y/N can’t bring herself to tell him she’s shivering because of the feeling of being so close to him, but neither of them denies the other of the affectionate gesture.

Y/N loses track of how long they lay there until Harry breaks the silence.

“I—” His voice cracks, and he clears it quickly before trying again. “I’ll get you a cloth to—to clean you up.”

Y/N nods, and Harry gently untangles himself from her before going to the bathroom.  Y/N can hear the running of water, and turns her head to see what he’s doing, but when she spots his naked silhouette, she closes her eyes.  Despite what they just did, there’s a shyness in her still when she sees him completely stripped.

Her eyes stay closed, and she only detects his return from feeling his weight return to the bed.  He places a gentle hand on her trembling knee, pulling her open ever so slightly.

“’M just cleaning you up.” Harry says in a quiet tone. “Is that okay?”

Y/N nods again.  She’s not certain she has enough strength to say anything.

Harry wipes between her legs with a gentle touch, watching how she flinches at the slightest of pressure. “I’m sorry.” He says sincerely, kissing her knee tenderly before continuing. “You’re sensitive, I know.  Almost done.”

Once he finishes wiping away the cum dripping out of her (his cum dripping out of her), Harry tosses the cloth onto his pile of clothes on the ground, deciding it can be dealt with later.  His most pressing concern at the moment is Y/N.

He lays back down on his side so he can face her, and pushes a lock of hair away from her closed eyes.

“Y/N.” Harry murmurs, hand resting on her waist carefully. “Talk to me. Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” Her voice is rough when she answers, and Harry can hear the echo of her moans in her words. “I-I’m fine, H.  Just…tired.”

“Do you…” Harry bites his lip. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Y/N gives a slight shake of her head. “Maybe—maybe tomorrow, yeah?” She does her best to open one eye, but quickly shuts it again when she sees how Harry is looking at her. “Can’t right now.”

“Okay.” Harry lays his arm over her side as he moves closer. “Tomorrow.”

Y/N presses her head into his shoulder and commits the scent of his skin to memory.

…

The first thing Y/N registers when she wakes up is the feeling of someone touching her hair.

She doesn’t need to open her eyes to know it’s Harry.  Of course it’s Harry.  It’s always been Harry.  In every way.

Y/N sighs and readjusts her position in bed, moving a bit closer to Harry.  She shivers once from the cold, still naked from last night’s activities, and that’s the only hint Harry needs before he pulls the sheet up around her more.

“Are you awake?” He asks softly, careful in case she’s still lost deep in sleep.

Y/N moves her head in a passable nodding motion, and her voice is thick with sleep when she answers. “Mhmm.  Barely.”

A low chuckle escapes from Harry’s mouth, and the next thing Y/N feels are his warm lips against her cheek. “How are you feeling?”

“A little hungover.  A little sore.” Y/N finally opens her eyes as she speaks, and almost wishes she hadn’t.

Harry’s hair is a mess from both sex and sleep, messy and wild and haphazardly pushed out of his eyes. His cheeks are flushed, and his neck and chest are covered in marks from both Y/N’s lips and fingers.  She knows that if he turned over, his back would be the same, and it embarrasses her and delights her at the same time.  He looks completely fucked and content, and more relaxed than she’s seen him in ages.

Y/N wonders if she looks the same.  If she looks as pretty.

“Sorry.” Harry says, his tone a bit sheepish.

“It’s not your fault.” Y/N replies, shrugging a bit.

“Well…it is, actually.  I made your drinks.  And I…” He trails off, brushing his fingers down her bare hip to her thigh.

“Yeah.” Y/N feels her face get warm. “I guess it is your fault.”

Harry laughs lightly, but it fades away as he looks into her eyes. “We, uh…we should probably talk about what happened.”

Y/N purses her lips. “Yeah. We should.”

“So…first question, I guess.” Harry props his head up on his arm, but keeps running his fingers over Y/N’s hip gently. “Do you regret it?”

Y/N sits up a bit more in bed, clutching the sheet to her bare chest. “No.  I don’t.  Do you?”

“No.” Harry replies instantly. “I don’t regret it.”

“Okay.” Y/N is so aware of Harry’s eyes on her as she thinks of her question. “Did…did you enjoy it?”

A snort falls from Harry’s mouth, and he shakes his head incredulously. “Christ, Y/N, of course I enjoyed it.  It felt—you felt like heaven.”

Y/N flushes at the comment. “I’ve never…I’ve always made my partners wear condoms.  So that was a first for me.”

Harry’s fingers pause over her hip, but only for a moment.  It looks as though he’s deciding whether or not he should comment on that, but changes his mind at the last moment. “Did you enjoy it?” He asks instead, echoing your question.

“I did.”

“You said you were mine.”

Y/N swallows hard. This conversation is less incriminating than making love to him last night, but it seems infinitely more powerful. Probably because they’re both sober, she thinks.

“That—” She clears her throat. “That’s not a question.”

Harry sighs, but there’s an endeared smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “You said you were mine. Did you mean that?”

Y/N can’t look him in the eyes, so she looks down instead.  Harry’s hand lies between them, and she intertwines their fingers, playing with his rings as she carefully formulates her answer. “I’ve—I’ve always been yours, H.  Ever since we were kids, I’ve belonged to you.” She runs a finger over his H ring. “Even when you were gone.”

Harry frowns a bit at the tone of her voice. “I’ve been yours too, Y/N.  I belong to you just as much as you belong to me.”

“You’ve always been further out of reach.” Y/N pulls her hand from his, until their fingertips are just barely touching. “Always just…a little out of reach.”

Harry intertwines their fingers again. “I’m not out of reach.  Not right now.  And I’ve never—if you ever called me and said you needed me, I would’ve been on the first flight back home to you.  I would’ve dropped everything for you, Y/N.  I still would, and I always will.”

Tears prick Y/N’s eyes, and although she hurries to close them, one slips out.  Harry catches it on his finger before it can run off her cheek, and when she looks at him again, there’s a concerned look on his face.

“C’mere.” Harry mumbles, pulling Y/N into a tight hug.  He rubs her back like he always does, and the motion is so comforting that she almost forgets the vulnerable position they’re both in. “You’re my girl.  You’re always going to be my girl.” He murmurs in her ear, voice low and soothing. “Always.  Don’t you know that?”

Y/N nods, not trusting her voice at the moment.

“If this is too much for you…” Harry traces his fingers between her shoulder blades.  Y/N thinks he’s tracing words, like they used to as children, but she can’t tell what words he may be tracing. “I understand. We can just—we can pretend it didn’t happen.”

“I—” Y/N shakes her head, looking up at Harry. “I don’t want to do that.”

“Then what do you want, Y/N?” Harry asks, his tone as pleading as it was last night. “All I’ve ever tried to do is give you what you want, and usually I’m pretty good at telling what that is, but right now, I’m lost.  I don’t want things to go back to how they were, but I don’t—I can’t lose you, so just—if you just tell me what you want, I’ll do it.  I’ll make it work.  I promise that I won’t be mad, or hurt, or anything.”

Y/N sits up as best she can, her fingers combing through Harry’s messy curls on reflex, as she always does it when he gets upset. “I can’t pretend that I don’t want you, H.  I do.  I need you.  I told you that last night.”

“But you’re crying.” Harry cups her wet cheek gently, rubbing his thumb along her cheekbone. “I hate that.”

Y/N leans into his touch. “It just feels…strange.” She says after a moment. “All of this.  I spent so long trying to stop myself from thinking of you like this, and now that I am, I feel like—like it’s wrong.”

Harry tugs on his bottom lip with his teeth. “Does it feel wrong?”

His low voice makes her shiver. “No.  It feels right.  Really right.”

“I feel like…” Harry’s eyes flicker between Y/N’s own eyes and their intertwined hands. “I feel like we’re both dancing around saying it.”

Y/N sucks in a breath. “Saying what?”

“Saying…” Harry leans in and presses a soft kiss to her lips. “Saying that we’re in love with each other.”

Y/N feels breathless at the words coming from his mouth. “You’re in love with me?”

“Are you not in love with me?” He replies, moving so he’s leaning over her more. “We’ve said I love you so many times before.”

“That’s a different kind of love.” Y/N mumbles, touching the chain dangling from Harry’s neck.

“But we were both meaning something different when we were saying it.  At least, I was.” Harry inhales deeply, like he’s centering himself. “I’ve known…for a while, but I’ve felt it for longer than I’ve known it. And I thought that you might…”

“I think I do.” Y/N whispers. “But saying it feels so—so permanent.  Like we can’t go back to being friends if it blows up in our faces.”

Harry traces a finger down Y/N’s cheek, her neck, between her breasts, to her side, touching just below her ribs. “Maybe we can’t.  But I don’t think we’ll want to, Y/N.  I think we’re perfect for each other.”

Y/N’s heart pounds in her chest. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Harry nods. “This last month, it’s been like we’ve been…playing house, or something.  I’ve loved it.  I keep hearing from friends saying that they’re so sick of the person they’re living with, so tired of them, but I’ve never felt that way about you, and I don’t think I ever will.  I’ll never get sick of you.”

Y/N laughs a bit. “That’s romantic.”

“Shut up.” Harry can’t help but smile slightly. “It is romantic.”

“Yeah.  It is.” Y/N says softly, her hand rubbing over Harry’s tattooed arm. “You’re really in love with me?”

Harry nods. “I am.”

“Huh.” Y/N bites her lip. “So I guess we’ve been lying to our moms, haven’t we?”

Harry laughs loudly, collapsing on the bed next to Y/N. “Jesus, can you not mention our mums when we’re naked in bed?”

“I’m just saying!  We’ve been saying for years that you’re not in love with me, and it’s all been a lie.”

“What about when they ask if you’re in love with me?” Harry’s tone is joking, but there’s a hint of nervousness in the back of his voice. “Has that been a lie, too?”

Y/N’s heart pounds as she nods. “Yeah.  We’ll have to get them something really good for Mother’s Day this year to help make up for it.”

A grin spreads over Harry’s face, almost triumphant, as he leans down to kiss her. “Agreed.” He moves to cage himself over Y/N. “But I want to hear you say it.”

“Say what?”

“I want to hear you say that you’re in love with me.” Harry’s grin turns into a smirk.

Y/N flushes as she shakes her head. “You say it first.”

“I’ve already admitted it!”

“So have I!”

“Not as well as I have!”

“Oh, so it’s a competition now?” Y/N scoffs. “What a wonderful start to our relationship.”

“I’m just saying, Y/N, admitting it is the first step to—”

“Are you seriously going to say that to get me to say that I love you?”

“Just—”

“You’re so irritating—”

“I’m irritating?  You—”

“You’re the worst!”

“And yet you’re in my bed with no clothes on!”

“Okay.  Nope.  Relationship over.” Y/N pushes Harry off of her and wraps the sheet around herself as she gets out of bed. “You blew it, Styles.”

“Y/N.” Laughter falls from Harry’s lips as he leans over the edge of the bed. “Love.  Come back to bed.”

“I think a minute and thirty-seven seconds may be the record for the world’s shortest relationship.” Y/N searches her bag for some clean clothes.

“Come here!”

“Another world record for Harry Styles.” Y/N calls to him without turning around. “You must be so proud—”

Her words are cut off in a shriek as Harry picks her up, throwing her over his shoulder as he brings her back to his bed.

“Harry!” She yells, hitting his arm. “Put me down!”

Harry tosses her on the bed, gentle enough so as not to hurt her, and cages himself over her sheet-covered body.  He’s still completely bare. “Take it back.”

Y/N rolls her eyes. “Fine. We’re still together.  One less record for you.”

“Good.  Now…” Harry brushes a finger over her lips. “Say you’re in love with me.”

Y/N’s laughter fades a bit as the nerves set back in. “I…”

“Please, Y/N?” Harry murmurs, leaning down to kiss her neck. “Please say it.”

“I’m—” Y/N sucks in a quick breath, and all of her protest leaves her body as she exhales. “I’m in love with you, Harry.”

She can feel Harry’s lips forming a grin against her neck. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Y/N tugs on his hair gently, just enough so she can pull his head back to look in his eyes. “Now you say it.”

“Y/N.” Harry says her name like it’s something precious. “I’m in love with you.”

A flush of pleasure crawls up Y/N’s spine at his words, but she does her best to keep her tone light-hearted. “So are you calling our moms, or am I?”

“I’ll do it.” Harry reaches for his phone on the bedside table. “And I’ll be sure to mention how it took us getting drunk and having sex to realize—”

“Harry!”

“Don’t worry, I’ll tell your mum we used a condom—”

“I’ll kill you, Styles, and I’ll make it look like an accident.” Y/N shoves his shoulder hard.

Harry grins at her. “Now that’s romantic.”

[luimagines]

Do time or the other links smoke? Or drink? Or do some kind of drugs? I mean when your out heroing you're going to get alot of traum

Something they all at least somewhat have to try and take the edg off or do they have other ways of coping? I am sorry if this sounds like an ask,i was more along the lines trying to get your speculation on the matter

Masterlist

I see what you're saying and I do think that some of them would have had bad habits in the past but yeah-

They do need some time to take the edge off and refocus themselves in the present, but how do they do that in a healthy and safe way?

Let's talk about that.

I don't think I have all the necessary tags so go forth at your own discretion.

Time

Time would have definitely had a drinking problem that would have started in his Termina days.

He's never really felt the need to drink though- he only found that it would have kept him from going crazy.

But as he got out of there and talked more to Malon (and have his supply cut off- (just because he knew where to get it in Termina doesn't mean he knows where to get it in Hyrule, (nor would they give it to him, even if he did))), I like to think that he would have had to find other ways to calm himself down and think rationally through his thoughts and desires.

It happens by accident.

He was working at Lon Lon Ranch when he needed to go chop some wood and he found the repetitive and strenuous work, soothing.

He felt good. Accomplished even.

And a little disappointed when he was finished.

But he started doing that whenever he could and it became his main way to not only blow off some steam but to also calm himself down.

It helps with his anxiety and his need to help feel useful even when nothing is really happening that would require his assistance.

Twilight

Twilight finds that manual labor actually makes his anxiety worse.

He can't really find it within himself to get lost in it because he's already programmed for that to be a part of his day to day life anyway. So his brain can still go on and on even as he gets his chores done.

Twilight finds that a secluded spot with little distraction works best.

He's never really dabbled in other ways to deal with it nor has it come to his mind.

All he knew one say was that everything was too much and that he needed to be in a different area entirely.

No people, no noise.

He likes to hang out by small creeks or by the lake and fish if he really needs an excuse to do something.

Bonus points if he can rest with one of his favorite goats nearby, but that's few and far in between.

It's less meditation and more taking in the moment and letting time slip by for a change.

No to do lists, no action, no survival, no need to be on the run.

Just breath.

Warrior

Warrior would have smoked during the war but I don’t think he’d actually tolerate it all that well. I feel like he’d be more inclined to drink away his problems but with shortages left and right, and all efforts going into the war, there just wouldn’t be enough to go around.

So he’d smoke and hate it.

But it worked in a pinch.

Afterwards, whether through Mask’s and Wind’s influence or the end of the war, he’d want to find a way to quit.

It wasn’t easy but I feel like Warrior would attempt to quit cold turkey. Just drop the habit completely and what does he do when he feels the need arise again?

It’s actually little said than done, but he paints.

It’s less with ink and paint and more so, just moving his hands and a brush around.

If he happens to have a canvas it’s better but again, not easy to come around.

So what Warrior ends up doing most of the time, is taking a brush and some homemade ink from berries and brushing it over his scars. His favorite spot is the massive burn covering his left arm left behind as a gift from the Dragon Knight.

It feels tingly and electric, static follows the brush and the muscles clench with energy from the contact but while it’s uncomfortable for a while, it’s also not entirely unpleasant and it’s soothing to watch and feel. And it grounds Warrior in the moment until he no longer feels the urge.

When the urge is gone, he still does it when he feel anxious and concerned. Late at night is typical time for him to do this, where no one would see him or his scars and judge him for it.

Sky

Sky in the beginning would have slept more than he did before.

He was already inclined to fall asleep easily before all of his trauma, but afterwards he seemed to lose motivation to continue with the idea that things would go back to normal. There was still a lot of expectation placed on his shoulders and it was frankly not something he wanted to deal with.

So he sleeps.

Now this turns into more of a problem with being able to stay awake and to stay concentrated. It’s hard for him to pay attention to anything beyond him and that won’t do, considering me still has to finish his schooling.

What Sky does more often than not to keep him tethered to the present moment is work with his hands. He’s already had the tools for wood whittling but he was never allowed to use them in class and it ends being a bigger mess sometimes than he’s willing to deal with in general.

Sky also has some small pockets of clay that he fidgets with to keep his hands moving and he can keep it under his desk so that it’s not that distracting in class.

It helps him focus and when he thinks about what he’s been through and what he plans to do next, it keeps him from getting overwhelmed.

Wild

I think Wild would have just gone silent and unmoving when he’s having a bad day.

Kind of similar to how he gets when’s trapped in a memory but for longer and he doesn’t eat or sleep. It could last days at a time. He doesn’t even move unless he’s prompted or dragged to the spot.

The lights are on but no one’s home you know.

There’s not a lot he can do when it happens. Everyone just has to wait for it to pass and hope that it passes quickly.

But Wild gets better with time to know the signs when of one of those days is coming.

It’s not much, but Wild like to hop on the back of his horse and just take off.

Feel the rushing wind on his face and through his hair. He’s a full gallop for a while until the poor horse gets tired. At that point he just goes to the nearest stable and exchanges horses to do the whole thing over again.

Sometimes, when that’s not enough, he’ll go base jumping from as high as he can get even using Revali’s Gale to get higher and free fall. Wild is pretty good at catching himself with his paraglider at the last moment and he likes to see all of Hyrule when as he reaches the ground again.

It reminds him that he’s done a lot of good, that he’s capable of doing more good and that life isn’t over just one ended.

Four

Unsurprisingly, sometimes Four gets too lost in his own for his own good.

He’s got a lot to think about and very little way to get it out.

Four would actually throw himself into his work to try and distract himself from the memories, the anxiety, and the guilt of not being enough time and time again even if he saved the day in the end.

This doesn’t help.

He gets so lost into it, in his attempt to stop thinking all together that he completely goes into autopilot and over works himself. Not in the sense that he pulls a muscle and has to take it easy  or end up sore and tired and regrets it. No, no. What I mean is that he’ll keep working for days on end.

No sleep.

No food.

Little water.

No fresh air.

It ends up being a hard habit for him to break. Especially since he finds himself continuously trying to fall into a blank mindset even while he actually works to get commissions done.

So what Four has to do is find something else to do. Four more or less always has to have his hands moving, so it’s hard for him to put something down and not working on it.

He likes jigsaw puzzles, he likes to read, but he also likes to make stuff.

So in the end, when Four feel a little overwhelmed and feels himself slip into a self deprivational state, he’ll stop and goes inside his house to do a smaller project.

So he bakes, he knits, he does his puzzels. It’s enough for him to feel productive still but quick enough for him to stay present and make sure he’s still taking care of himself until the restlessness passes.

Wind

Wind doesn’t really have bad habits. He’s still young and processing his adventures. 

I’m sure there’s alcohol on the pirate ship because pirates. But I don’t think he’d like it as much as some people want to write him.

Like, sure, a cup or two ain’t bad but I just can’t see Wind having a drinking problem. At least not now as everything stands.

In a few years it’s might be something he would need to be on the look out for if he’s aware enough but he was quite grasped the full implications of his position and trauma yet.

Because he’s just a kid.

He won’t know how twisted what happened to him was until he gets older and can he the age outside of his own mindset.

Wind has nightmares though and they’re ties when he gets memories that he doesn’t want to deal with at the moment- or ever again.

In the moment he thinks of his home, his grandma and his sister instead.

He thinks of his friends, both old and new.

The chain help with distracting him and he’s not above using them for the distraction when he feels that he needs one.

Wind also stretches a lot. 

When he was with Warrior, he got into some of the drills they were teaching the soldiers and for some of the nimble ones, they had to start with stretches and he likes it.

So when it gets particularly bad, he throws himself through the motions and holds the poses for a bit longer than necessary.

So yoga. He does yoga.

And it centers him, it clears his head and he feels better after.

Legend

Legend screams.

Legend cries.

Legend will go on a rampage and destroy a whole forest if he’s having a particularly hard day.

Sometimes he’ll go find something big and scary just to fight it. 

Blacksmithing is more a hobby for him at this point because it’s not something he can actually see himself doing in the future. It’s just to pass the time and help the day’s go by a little faster.

Legend likes to draw and when he’s tired after throwing whatever tantrum has taken over him, he’d go to a quiet spot and draw whatever he sees.

Sometimes, when he’s paying more attention to himself and he can feel himself getting frustrated and anxious, he takes a few days off.

He leaves his house and his items and goes up a mountain to think with some food, a notebook and some pencils.

He takes up map making.

Legend doesn’t think he’s any good at it, but with al the places he’s been, he tries to make a map for them by memory incase anyone he knows or will meet decides to visit.

His most carefully crafted map is of Koholint for... reasons.

It’s takes him an age and a half and he’s still not done with it, trying to get as much of it onto the paper as he can remember before he grows old and loses them entirely within his memory.

It’s a calming project he finds. He doesn’t feel sad when he does this for Marin for the people and their memory. It keeps them alive in his heart and sometimes he draws something on the map that doesn’t quite fit into his memory about the island but something tells him to keep it because it was there. Because he was only a visitor to their home.

The locals would know.

He feels good keeping them alive in some way.

It’s what she they would have wanted. 

It’s what she they deserve.

She They always wanted to travel and it’s better to have a map to do so.

He takes up map making.

Hyrule

I don’t think Hyrule’s... Hyrule has a lot of these methods to go around. He wouldn’t have been exposed to drugs or alcohol simply because there’s too little people for him to interact with.

And if he was, I don’t think he’s use them as a coping mechanism simply because they would be too difficult obtain and gather to be sufficient.

I think that Hyrule would actually hang out with a Great Fairies by her pool when times got particularly rough.

There’s something about the place that resonates with him and feels calming, safe and relaxing to him.

As a bonus he’s always welcomed so he can pop in and stay for days at a time if he ever needed to.

He does not stay there for days.

But he appreciates the offer.

Hyrule doesn’t stay for more than few hours at a time because he doesn’t want to attract any monsters to his safe spots but even if the fairies don’t use any magic on him, he’s always rejuvenated afterwards and he feel like he can take on anything.

And given the world he comes from- it’s needed.