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luvhyukai · 4 months ago

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bartender||han jisung x you||mdni

pairings: bartender!jisung x fempoc!reader

synopsis: you go to the same bar every night, served by the same bartender, you get jelly of another lady but little did you know that bartender man was only for you.

warnings: s m u t, strangers to lovers au, slowish burn, unprotected sex , mentions of drinking, use of petnames, slight orgasm denial(m and f), slight jealousy, slight angst, multiple orgasm (f), oral (m and f), pull out method, mention of masturbation, ji has a small obsession with u, lmk if i missed anything.

a/n: this is heavily influenced by the song “dream of you” by chungha. so i would recommend listening while reading! also thanks for all the likes and follows! enjoy ;) lowercase intended

story under the cut :)

ever since your break up with your ex, you havent failed to hit up the same bar everyday after work. the sweet, fruity and spicy alcoholic taste of whiskey seems to blow the stress of life right off your shoulders, it makes you forget about deadlines, the weight of your heart break, the weight of life. it makes you feel light, it relaxes you.

today was no different. you go to the same bar and order your drink. the bartender hands you the drink and makes the usual small talk. bless him, he can tell that life has been crushing you lately. “rough day?” he asks. “yeah man, life has gone to shit for me.” you replied. “‘m sorry about that honey, but let me know if you need a refill, just dont drink too much.” he said as he winked and walked away.

maybe its the liquor or maybe you didnt notice before, but ‘damn’ you think ‘hes so fucking fine.’ all the times youve come here, he serves you, but you never asked him for his name. you didnt wanna come off as a creep or anything, youre sure many people have asked him for his name. for some reason, he doesnt wear a nametag. fuck it, “excuse me bartender.” you said suddenly. he wasnt too far away from you, just a couple customers away. he motions you to wait while he finishes with a customer.

“hi, did you want a refill?” he asked. “uh…no…um…dont take this the wrong way..but youve been serving me for a while and i never got a name.” you said. he looked at you and smiled. “how rude of me. my name is jisung!” he said and extended his arm for a handshake. “oh no i shouldve asked you. but im [reader], nice to meet you!” you said as you shook his hand profusely. he stood there for a minute, looking at you. you were looking at him. truly taking in his features. the way his glasses sat on his beautifully sculpted face. the way his uniform sorta hugged his slim figure, he was actually breathtaking.

you wouldnt be surprised if he had a girlfriend. you would be surprised if he didnt. “excuse me bartender.” a lady called. you didnt even notice you were holding his hand at that point until he smiled, briefly squeezed your hand and walked away. his hands were soft. you followed him with your eyes, you seen the lady who called for him. she wasnt all that cute. her hair was nice and neat, her outfit was formal and classy, she looked like the business class.

she was looking at him with eyes full of lust, she was flirting with him. you could tell she was really flustering him because you could hear his small giggling. she looked over at you and smirked. the hell is wrong with her? what is she trying to prove? why are you getting upset about it? jisung isnt yours, and he for damn sure isnt hers either. before you could even get to that point, you asked him to close your tab and you left.

you sat in your car for a second to be sure you werent too fucked up to drive, you took a deep breathe and looked out the window. tonight was beautiful. lightly raining, and chilly. your mind started to drift back to the moment you learned his name. his voice kept traveling in your mind. it brought a small smile to your face, it warmed your heart a little. just then, you seen the same woman walk out, jisung following behind her, he gets into her car and they leave.

“the fuck?” you said in utter disbelief. you decided not to think too much of it and went home.

the next evening, youre back at the bar. same bartender, same everything. “[reader] the usual?” said jisung. you nodded and he got your drink ready. “you doing alright?” he asked. you nodded your head once more. he looked at you confused, you normally talk to him. you always talk to him, whats with the cold shoulder? he set your drink down, and you took it. everything that happened last night, the small anger you felt, it all came rushing back. and instead of taking your small sips, you down the whole thing. slamming the cup back down and catching some peoples attention. it caught the attention of jisung.

now he knew something was up. “[reader] you are not okay. whats going on with you?” jisung said with concern lacing his voice. “i am fucking fine. aint shit wrong with me. now another one please.” you said. youre also slightly tipsy. he looks more concerned now but still gives you another one. it felt like life was still crumbling down on you. so to numb it, you downed one shot, two shots, four shots, “thats enough [reader], i legally cannot serve you anymore drinks.” jisung said. “bullshit, this is bullshit. im fucking—outta here.” you said. you start getting hiccups now, you were also totally drunk.

“ill call a cab for you. your car will be here in the morning.” jisung said. “dont fuckin act like you care ab—about me. ji—jisung.” you said drunkenly. he looked at you with slight heartbreak. he does care about you. youre the reason why he works every night. he loves looking at you, admiring you. the day you unknowingly held his hand, he went home and masturbated with the same hand. “[reader], ill take you home instead. does anyone live with you that can make sure okay and also can pick your car up tonight?” he said. hes not supposed to take you home. he could lose his job over it. but he will do anything just to be close to you. “n—no” you hiccuped.

he sat you down in an isolated booth and finished the night. he served a few more people and then closed up shop. while he was doing this, you fell asleep. though he didnt wanna wake you, he had to at least get you standing up so he can help you walk to his car. “[reader]…..[reader]” he said while gently shaking you awake. you looked around to see the bar is empty. you looked at him with confusion. “hey, its time for me to take you home.” he said and smiled. you nodded as you rubbed your eyes and got up to walk. since you were still under the influence, you had some difficulty walking on your own. luckily jisung was next to you and ready to help you walk.

he helped you in his car, strapped you in, and began driving you home. “jisung.” you spoke. “yes [reader]?” he replied. “why are you doing this?” you said softly. “because i care about you. i care about your safety.” he said. sure it was the truth but it wasnt the whole truth. “if you cared, why did you go off with that ugly ass lady?” you asked. he grinned a bit. “she took me to her house, we made out but i told her i wasn’t interested in her. i told her i had my eyes on someone else.” he said. you went from being slumped over looking out the window to now sitting up and looking at him. “you did? what happened after that?” you asked invested. “she brought me back to the bar, i got in my own car and left.” he replied.

you eventually arrived at your home and he helped you in and helped you get settled. “ji?” you called. he looked at you. “can you stay the night with me? i dont want to be alone. i wanna be with you.” you said. he smiled softly and nodded. you both got into your bed and laid there. both of you are awake, both are scared to say something. “[reader], remember when i said that i told the lady i was interested in someone else?” he spoke. “yeah.” you answered. “well, ever since you came into the bar, ive been interested in you. i was too scared to introduce myself. after i learned that you were going through a break up, i tried to suppress my feelings and make sure i was there for you. im trying to say that i want you. i know you want me as well.” he said as he looked at you.

his words made you smile, “i do, want you.” you said as you looked at him and snuggled closer. he leaned a bit closer to your face, his breath fanning your face. you were the one who closed the gap and kissed him. it was one peck, then he came back and started to kiss you passionately. you climbed on top of him, not breaking the kiss. as the room started to get hot, you started to take off your shirt. him taking off his shirt revealing his slim but muscular body. jisung reached up and unclasped your bra straps. your bra fell down your body showing off your beautiful tits. he looked in awe.

he looked you in the eyes before taking one of your nipples and sucking on it. the other nipped was being teased by this free hand. you started to grind yourself on him to relieve some of the pressure. he groaned a bit as youre right on top of his cock. you threw your head back as he swirled his tongue over your sensitive nipple. he also started to rock his hips upwards to meet your pussy halfway. this causing both of you to moan softly. “i cant wait anymore ji.” you said needily. “okay baby, let me take care of you.” he said softly.

you climbed off him and laid on your back, jisung taking off your pants and then getting up to take off his. he laid down between your legs. “wow, so wet. and your pussy is so pretty. just like you baby girl.” he said as he looked up at you. it made you blush and subconsciously close your legs, but he caught them in time. he leaned in and licked it. a small teasing lick. you whined as you grew needier and needier for him. he heard your whines and stopped teasing. he began to really savor you by sucking on your clit. then dipping his tongue in and out of your hole. you moaned loudly as hes doing this to you. “that feel good?” he asked. “mmhm~” you replied not really able to say anything.

you started to rock you hips against his mouth and he started licking faster. you grabbed his hair and pushed his head into you for more. he giggled softly at this, the vibrations of it causing you to feel closer to your climax. “just like that—ah! just like that~” you screamed softly. he cooed into you again sending vibrations to your clit. you felt your high approaching quickly. as if his mouth wasnt enough, he took two fingers and fingered you quickly. this making your high wash over you. with a loud “fuck!~” you came hard.

your legs were shaking slightly from how intense it was. you sat up and kissed him deeply. tasting yourself made you moan. you pulled back. “your turn.” you smirked. he laid down and you sat between his legs. his fully erect dick was leaking some pre. you licked a fat stripe from the bottom of his dick to his pretty tip. he hissed at the sensation. you did that two or three times before you took his tip and started to suck on it. “oh goodness—oh go—that feels nice.” he whimpered. you smiled as you took his length all the way down. it took him by surprise and he subconsciously bucked his hips upwards. whatever didnt fit in your mouth, you took your hand and jerked it.

you bobbed your head and jerked him quickly, then slowly to tease. you kept that same pattern for about 5 minutes before he says “shit—baby..im gonna..’m cumming~”. you stopped before he could, he looked at you in amusement. “youre gonna regret that honey.” he chuckled. he flipped you over so you were on your back. he lined himself with you. “is this okay? we dont have to move on if you dont want to.” he said.

“im sure, i want this, i want you.” you moaned slightly. no more words were said as he slid himself into you. he was a couple inches bigger than your ex but he was definitely wider. the stretch making your toes curl. “oh my god baby, youre tight. its feels so good princess.” he moaned as he bottomed out. he stroked himself slowly in, slowly out. it was making your eyes roll back. you gripped his arm “faster, please ji. i need it…i need—it!” you moaned loudly as he sped up like you asked. he was knocking the wind from your lungs, it felt so good!

“i know you need it, you like how it feels? hm? you like how i fuck you?” he whispered in your ear. he reached his hand down and rubbed your clit. this made you closer quickly. “yes! yesyesyes—fuck im cumming!” you nearly screamed. he pulled out quickly and let you calm down. you frowned and whined. “told you, you’d regret not letting me cum.” he said. he turned you on your knees so you were in doggy position. he stroked himself a couple times before pushing himself back into you. jisung threw his head back and he rocked himself into you. he gripped your hips as he dragged you on and off his cock.

from this angle, you felt your climax about to hit again. maybe even harder than before. by this time, jisung was also close. his hips starting to lose rhythm and became sloppier by the seconds. “fuck [reader], youre gonna make me fuckin—cum!” he whined. you were so close to yours that you barely understood what he was saying. after a couple more hard thrusts of his hips, you were screaming and crying slightly as your orgasm hit you like a bus. he fucked you through your high. shortly after you he pulled out and started to stroke himself. “oh my god—im cumming…im cu—m’ gonna—fuck!” he moaned as he finished on your back.

after you both calmed down and cleaned up, he kissed you on the lips again. “im all yours baby, im all for you.” he said. you smiled as you let yourself drift back to sleep.

fin!

©️shewritesforpoc on tumblr !!

#skz smut #han jisung #han jisung smut #kpop smut #black reader #poc reader #stray kids

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averycutesalamander · 4 months ago

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i have extremely neutral opinions about SMAUs (social media AUs) but i just thought about what Boothill's role would be in one and im kind of losing my mind about it.

his account handle is @.silvergunshura and he literally only posts clumsy nature photos and occasional pics of his gun. a handful of videos that are just the sound of the wilds. never puts any captions or tags on his posts. extremely long unacknowledged absences with no schedule. double-digit amount of followers at an absolute maximum. absolutely no interaction with his audience. or anyone else on the platform actually. quite frankly he doesn't pay any attention to his following in the slightest. bro simply cannot be bothered. for all he cares he is sending these photos to the void and there are no other users on the platform.

and then he posts one (1) video of him at the shooting range nailing bullseyes left and right like it's nothing. barely half of his body is in frame and most of his face is covered by his hair. someone with a decent following shares it and his entire fucking profile EXPLODES because people will NOT stop talking about how hot he is and it kinda snowballs from there. people go through his entire backlog only to find ZERO other posts with his face or body in them. the best they get is little snippets of his arms. people are frothing at the fucking mouth trying to figure out who he is and nobody knows because he literally hasn't said a single word in his entire posting history. people make theory posts, which obviously gets more people invested in this new mystery. his comments are filled with people speculating about who he is and what the fuck he's doing. someone posts a massive spreadsheet detailing all of the identifiable locations in his posts, and they're literally all over the galaxy. immediately afterwards they're cancelled for some vague allegations about them being a shady intelligentsia guild member guilty of multiple human rights violations and everybody completely forgets about the spreadsheet.

Boothill posts a single blurry photo of his hand feeding a chipmunk and people lose their goddamn minds. he follows this up an hour later with a photo of the same chipmunk sitting on his shoulder that is somehow even blurrier than the last and it briefly trends on the front page. a week later he uploads a video of him playing a harmonica by a campfire, once again barely in frame, lit only by the flickering fire. people brighten the video in a desperate attempt to get a better look at his face, but there's nothing identifiable. someone posts a slightly unhinged video examining the tiniest pixels in every screencap of him that they can find, claiming that he's definitely a halovian because of some extremely blurry details, and you technically can't deny it as a possibility because there are no clear shots of where his halo or wings would be. naturally this severely divides fans, and several other theories about his species pop up over the course of a few days. many people are called morons from all sides.

the REAL drama comes when he posts a picture where he's holding what looks suspiciously like an extremely precious meteorite-formed gem that was stolen during a private IPC auction two weeks ago. this post is also notable because it's the first time he's used a caption and it's literally just "lol". naturally people quickly connects the dots and realize that he's BOOTHILL, that crazy motherfucker with the vendetta against the IPC, and why the fuck is he posting nature photos and videos of him feeding birds and shit. silvergunshura fans are instantly divided by discourse about whether or not it's ethical to be a fan. "silvergun fans dni" and "silvergun antis dni" become staples in the bios of people invested in the drama. a bunch of fans start using his substitute swears, and whether or not this is ironic is extremely debatable. the business of cyborg modifications has a moderate boom. anti-IPC sentiments have a notable increase, but now the people doing serious exposés and earnest discussion about the humanitarian crimes of the IPC that are concealed from the public are constantly called simps. there's a brief stint with a handful of Boothill copycat crimes that are all solved within the week.

people unsuccessfully try to hunt down any other potential socials to no avail, but this does spawn a massive wave of fake accounts on a million different platforms, which obviously successfully baits a ton of people. the drama gets even spicier when the moderators shut down his account. one of the mods gets doxxed by an outraged fan. even more fake accounts pop up. Boothill comes back less than a week later as @.silvercowboy244 like nothing happened. his returning post is a crooked picture of a sorta weird looking tree, and he's pointing toward the top left of the frame. the caption is just "bird?" and nobody can figure out what the FUCK that's supposed to mean, because there's no bird visible in the picture, nor is there a bird nest in the tree. conspiracy theories and decoders are immediately chomping at the bit trying to figure out if it has some kind of secret meaning.

tons of people try to use his posts to pinpoint his location for clout or the bounty money or to find him in person and beg him to let them give him head, but he never posts them exactly when they're taken, and nobody can figure out what the fuck logic he's using to pick his next destination. there's an IPC investigation. his accounts keep getting banned but he keeps coming back like a cockroach. dedicated fan archives are made to preserve all of his shitty photos. he never acknowledges any of the drama.

if you're fortunate enough to know Boothill personally and you ask him about all of that weird shit with his socials, he just shrugs and says, "yep, i keep gettin' locked out. can't remember passwords for shirt." if you ask him what he thinks of all the drama surrounding his online presence, he gives you the most bewildered expression you've ever seen on his face. "what the fork are you yappin' about?? what do you mean i got "band" ?? disk horse??? docksing???? i think you've got a few screws loose buddy" and he promptly forgets about the entire ordeal and goes back to posting blurry nature pictures like literally nothing happened.

edit: here's part two-ish lol

#i don't know why this concept captured me so thoroughly but imagining this was so funny #part of me feels like he would feign ignorance just to fuck with people #like i don't think he'd be all that invested but i could absolutely see him doing it-#just to check in on it once in a while to have a chuckle #it's also an extremely funny and annoying way to fuck with the IPC #like “hey morons im literally leaving you a breadcrumb trail.”#“can you send more of your employees to investigate. it's easier to shoot them if they come to me y'know”#utterly unconcerned because he's the perfect balance of confident and sly #sal.drabbles #boothill #hsr #honkai star rail #sorry i feel like this is too funny not to put in main tags #maybe that's too much of a self-brag actually. whatever lol #sal.smau

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fungus-no69 · 10 months ago

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hope lovecraft is rolling in his grave as I write this. I hope more people write about eldritch horrors being gay and shit. lovecraftian gay sex… (i do not write smut)

Context: it is a beautiful day in rapechestershire and you are a horrible monstrosity

Content: Body horror I guess, reader is a little petty (deserved), dol typical bullying, brief and non graphic gore in Kylar’s, mentioned animal death in Remy’s (you are Eating The Cows), some spoilers for Ivory Wraith’s lore

Remembering to oxidise your body is a burden, making your heart beat is a chore, remembering to move the rest of your vessel with your expressions is tiring. What do animals even need these rigid pieces of flesh for?

…though you quickly realised the value of muscles when your meat began to droop around your faux bones which is something you’re fairly certain does not happen to mortals.

Of course, you can’t maintain a full rest while above water in this fashion. You’ve come to learn that humans do not particularly enjoy a mass of greasy limbs, mottled flesh and gunky mucus spread on the floor. 'Sleeping' is nice though, as limited as your opportunities are. Humans are fickle creatures and that also applies to their sleeping habits.

Nonetheless. You need to practise your human-form-making skills. And what better way to learn about appearing more human than to attend the industry of learning itself?

Whitney:

Why this blonde mortal took an interest in you? You're not sure.

One day they were there and they never left

They’re always poking at your vessel. Rude…

Thanks to them and their lackeys you had to learn how to fake falling over when punched because apparently it’s strange to just stand there and take a hit without flinching.

They know somethings wrong with you but they can’t put their finger on it, this leads to even more bullying

Most of their harassment is about how you look and act apart from the straight up sexual assault.

They once saw you slip up on your transformation because it was a particularly irritating day and you briefly reintroduced your habit of scaring off others by posturing.

Not your finest moment, I say. They passed out because your mutilated structure was too much for their poor human mind to handle.

Thankfully you can help them forget the incident or write it off as some weird drug induced hallucination. (by distracting them with something inconvenient when they wake up. Like an ice cube in their mouth. Or a cut to their gums.)

You can’t let something like that happen again

Sydney:

You don't know why they're looking at you weirdly. You have the correct amount of teeth this time. You checked.

They help you out when people ask you stupid questions like 'are you a ventriloquist?' 'how can you bend that far?' and 'hey where'd your elbows go?'

It’s always awkward to dismiss yourself during those encounters, considering your ‘schoolmates’ don’t tend to let things go and are rather fixated on following their more malicious instincts towards you than letting you leave. So Sydney’s help is appreciated.

You leave little gifts for them in the library. A book you found in the lake and dried, the foot of a rabbit (humans find that lucky right?), little shiny objects you discover while walking around.

You’re far from weak or incapable but Sydney’s interventions make keeping up the act more bearable.

Over time they find that they become enamoured with you and that’s terrifying to them. One, because they’ve never felt like this before and two, Jordan seems to disapprove of you in some way? They don’t explain why but they warn Sydney about you. Which raises some issues which you don't completely understand for all of your infinite (old) wisdom.

As they become more corrupted, they get a bit more pushy with their ‘subtle’ questions about you- thankfully they never nag for too long.

You fear that Sydney, loyal and kind Sydney, will leave you when they find your true nature. That they will find you repulsive like many before them.

Thus, you will hide your true nature from them. No matter how often they ask or the fact that they know something is off- you can never let them confirm those suspicions.

Kylar:

You see the way the shadows loom over this mortal- they are more connected to the other worlds than they realise.

This draws you to them in a way, having someone who is more connected to your home than everyone around you. And them to you, though you suspect this may have happened regardless of your identity.

Kylar is another anomaly in a sea of others who look different but are fundamentally indiscernible. If you were to cut open a human and pry open their ribcage, you would find the same thing in each one. But not yours. And perhaps not Kylar’s.

They seem to feel a strange compulsion to protect you. You’ve seen this type of behaviour with Sydney and maybe Whitney to an extent, but never to the intensity that a knife was procured.

You understand that the utensil is sharp but you're a little bit confused to why the students run away when they see it? Stabbing someone requires strength and you're fairly certain Kylar is not very strong.

Surprisingly, they were the first one to ask about why you speak the way you do. When asked what they meant they told you that you speak in a very formal manner. Your expression must have made a change in some way because they quickly apologise profusely for offending you. It doesn't.

If you sulk about it a little then that's nobody's business other than your own.

Harper:

You get sent to the asylum for your silly behaviour (crimes and general strangeness that does not pass for mentally healthy) and Harper tries to gaslight you "there are no tentacles they aren't real" explain this.

You don’t have a firm grasp on human behaviour yet, especially when it comes to being polite but c'mon. Even you know this guy is a weirdo.

They will inevitably learn about your true nature regardless of how hard you conceal it.

Hypnotism doesn’t work on you, your blood is too dark and thin to resemble a human’s, sometimes you forget to make your heart beat etc.

They’re not as freaked out as you thought they’d be but they do want to run some tests on you

You say no thank you because even if it’s just for ‘personal research’ you don’t want your inhumanity on record (and Harper’s a creep)

They attempt to blackmail you in a sense but you stand strong on your opinion. Who would they tell and even then, who would believe them? And then there’s the fact that there is no human nor invention that can contain or incapacitate you.

You may meet them on your vacation to Remy’s farm, they’re initially confused to see you there but just as easily accept it. As much as they want to understand you- you’re not exactly human, so they don’t expect you to act by the rules of humans.

It would almost be nice if they didn’t finish their little spiel by dragging you to a stage. Stares make your epidermis feel like there’s little bugs underneath it and you feel the urge to peel it off to escape the unpleasant sensation. You don’t, because that would reveal you.

You end your holiday by trashing their office.

Remy:

You originally came across their farm because you were hungry. Remy, of course, noticed the dwindling population of their cows and went to investigate. Lo and behold- they found you.

They don’t know for sure if you’re involved in the missing cows but they suspect you’ve stolen them or something. Not that you ate them.

You allow yourself to be captured, you could annihilate these puny humans if you wanted to but something tells you this place will grant you rest and food.

The fact they stole your clothes was mildly irritating but you can easily get some when you return 'home'. What do humans call it? The five finger discount? You're not sure what having five fingers has to do with saving currency but you appreciate it regardless.

You don’t develop transformations. You lack the biology to do so, but seeing other cattle develop their features tips you off to the fact you’re supposed to be gaining ears and such so you try to replicate them…

The farmhand who opens your stable in the morning almost shits their pants

You don’t try again after that.

Remy is wondering why their cattle are STILL disappearing.

Ivory Wraith:

They are much similar to yourself, tethered to this mortal realm through an object. Though their emotions are a bit more… uncontrollable than yours.

But perhaps that came with being human. Formerly, you suppose. Not that you would know what it’s like to be human.

They know your existence is eternal, will last for much longer than their own given their own circumstances.

Inevitably, they belong to this world and you do not.

Nonetheless you understand each other to a point, with both of you being non human and somewhat incorporeal.

They vaguely recognise you from long ago, a painting or two within the temple depicting a monster. They had never really examined it, being too unsettled to do so.

They also remember that during the schism, they felt the presence of something much larger than themself. They suspect it may be you, though they’re not certain.

No matter, you're here now.

…

It is the first time you have felt desire for something other than rest in centuries.

You have never been one to want. You do not experience emotion as deeply as mortals (or former mortals) do, somehow simultaneously deeper but so shallowly. You do not feel affection, and even if you have, it has surely been so long since then that you have forgotten. And yet…

You think this strange feeling in your fleshy midsection is the closest to love you can get.

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drdemonprince · 1 year ago

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I was in the car with a new friend recently and he was fuming about stress at work, and his rent going up, and I was sympathetic and bummed for him, and then he started yelling about traffic and freaking out any time a car took more than a millisecond to get moving and it freaked me out and I fell silent. I guess he could sense the energy changing in the air.

"What's wrong?" he asked. "Am I bothering you?"

"It's okay," I said instinctively, unconvincingly, trying to convince myself to get over it, to not make him feel bad, to not make things about my feelings. I searched for a justification as to why my reaction was wrong. "I guess I forget what it's like to drive a car."

I used to get screamed at for moving too slowly. I exasperated my parents taking so long finding the momentum to get up and do things. I was spacey. Everything was always happening so quick. Where I wanted to put my attention was never where the world wanted me to. They needed me to care about car routes and traffic and appointment times instead of smooth pebbles on the sidewalk or birds. And my dad was always so furious in the car. Certain he was the authority on what made a good driver and that everyone else was not up to his standards. Ranting and yelling and flipping out so badly it made me cry and then put on a big smile to reassure him. I almost gave up learning to drive as a teen because my slow, plunking movements and insecurity on the road sent him into such a rage.

"Shit, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to ruin the evening," my friend said.

"You didn't," I reassured him.

I didn't want him to think I had a problem with him complaining about his life. That is what friends are for. It was the road rage that touched an unaged part of me, and brough that part forward so strongly I couldn't hide it. I couldn't fix my face. I almost started to cry.

It was the first time in a very long time that I've been well and truly triggered. Certain experiences in the present can make old parts of me reverberate; there's a ringing that you get inside when someone's shampoo smells like a bad old boyfriend or somebody touches you the wrong way without meaning to and you briefly go a little dead. That's manageable. It's a useful cue that something needs to change quickly before you freak out. I thank those triggers for existing. But this one. It caused an actual emotional phase shift straight to the past. Freeze up and then fawn it off, play along, make up for your own reaction.

It's crazy how unsafe I genuinely felt for a moment! And I tend to critique people who abuse the language of "feeling unsafe" for manipulative and white supremacist ends, so it is useful for me to get that reminder of just how reality-bending an acute state of triggeredness is. I tell people to use their words and regulate their distress and there I was, unable to.

I had forgotten one of the major reasons that I hate cars! That is how long I have been away from my dad and car-dependent culture and intense, mean impatience. I have made a lot of the right choices to protect me over the years, or else this upset would not be so unfamiliar.

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kaleldobrev · 2 years ago

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Hard to Believe

Pairing: Soldier Boy (Ben) x Fem!Reader

Summary: Ben tells you something that you weren’t quite expecting

Word Count: 581

Warnings: Cursing (4x), Ben being pissed about this generation of youth, Cute(?)!Ben

Authors Note: If you liked this, don’t forget to like & reblog. I really appreciate it! Feedback is always welcome ♡

As you were sitting on the couch attempting to read as Soldier Boy had the tv just loud enough for you not to be able to concentrate, you couldn’t help but notice out of your peripheral that he was staring at you. It wasn’t a creepy stare, more of like an enamored stare and you honestly couldn’t place why. The Supe had barely said two words to you since you, Hughie, and Butcher brought him back after the incident at Crimson Countess’. Finally semi-annoyed (or maybe it was more curiosity), you shut the book and looked over at him, making eye contact with him briefly before he looked away at the tv in front of him. “Can I help you?” You asked, and he turned to you, taking a sip from the cup he had in his hands.

“No,” he answered all too quickly, and semi-annoyed sounding. “Can I help you?”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re the one that won’t stop staring at me,” you said.

“I’m not staring at you. I have no reason to stare at you,” he said, his tone a little harsh, pissed that you had actually caught him despite it being blatantly obvious.

“If you say so,” you replied, re-opening your book. As soon as you had opened it, the staring started again. “You’re staring,” you said, not looking up from your book.

“How can you even tell?” He asked.

“Something called peripheral vision,” you said, turning the page. “So why are you staring?”

“I’m n—” he began, but that’s when you looked at him, eyebrow raised, not believing a word he was saying. “Fine. I was. Happy?”

“Just curious mostly as to why you won’t stop staring at me,” you stated. “No one’s ever stared at me as long as you have before.” It’s interesting, you wanted to add.

He scoffed. “Hard to believe.”

“And why’s that?” You asked, re-closing your book yet again.

“Cause you’re hot,” he said, no hint of humor in his voice. Shit he was serious, you thought. That’s when he looked over at you, looking dumbfounded at what he had just said to you. “What?”

“You just said I was…hot,” your voice had a hint of hesitation, and it was his turn to raise a brow.

“And?” He asked. “Does that offend you?” Fucking people these days, can’t pay anyone a fucking compliment, he thought.

“No…just…surprised really,” you said. And you were in fact legitimately surprised by Soldier Boy’s comment, as no one had even told you that you were hot before, not even previous significant others.

“Why?” He asked, taking another sip from his cup.

“No one’s…ever called me…hot…before,” you admitted.

“Again, hard to believe,” he said, getting up from his current spot. “No one? No one’s ever called you fucking hot before?” You shook your head. “Not even like…I don’t know….boyfriends?” You shook your head again.

“You’re the first one,” you said, your voice getting lower, slightly embarrassed. You felt your cheeks start to get pink.

He grinned. “Well lucky me.” As he started to walk away, he turned around to face you again. “Expect me calling you hot more. And…other things,” he winked. You wondered what other things he would start calling you now, and you hoped, that when he did in fact call you these things, it would be just when you and him were in the room and not in front of your friends. But knowing him, he’d do it in front of them.

Tag List: @jackles010378 @mrsjenniferwinchester @syrma-sensei @k-slla @justletmereadfanfic @deans-daydream @zombie-freak @waywardlatina @globetrotter28 If you'd like to be added to a tag list, let me know!

#soldier boy x reader #soldier boy x you #the boys #the boys imagine #the boys one shot #the boys amazon #Ben x you #Ben x reader #reader insert #female reader

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pupyuj · 2 years ago

Note

campus rebel! g!p wonyoung who fucks the shit out of the stuco president for getting her into trouble 😵‍💫😵‍💫 OH MY GOD I WANNA HEAR YOUR THOUGHTS ABOUT THIS

bad girl wony... yeah.. yeah exactly. i giggle every time i get g!p ive asks esp annyeongz i just want them to double team me tbh—

LISTENNNN ... ever since 230423 wonyoung i have never been the same, that look is literally how i picture rebel wony 😭😭😭

wwhat if she has never gotten in trouble for all the bullshit she did when you weren't the stuco president :(( wony got away with everything scot-free bcs the previous presidents were scared of what might happen to them (like expulsion) bcs wony had a bit of a hold in the school 😟😟 but then you got elected, and things changed real fast 😁 teachers were actually scolding her?? giving her shit when she was late to class or wandered the halls during?? and she has never gotten detention before... until you personally put her in one 😭

the detention in question being held in the student council meeting room, it was just you and her. wony was pissed, she could be out partying and getting laid right now but instead, she had to stare at your pretty face while you did your work and babysat her at the same time! looking up from your desk briefly and seeing that the paper in front of wonyoung was still blank. "it's a simple apology, jang. i'm doing you a favor by saving you from a criminal charge. this won't hurt your reputation, you know." you said with a sigh.

"oh trust me, it's been hurt the moment you stepped up that stupid podium in the gym and did your campaign speech like you were the leader of the nation." wonyoung picked up her pen and started scribbling on her paper. well, at least you wouldn't have to deal with her eyes just burning holes into your head anymore! she doesn't even get why she has to apologize 🤨 spray-painting cock and balls to that creepy janitor's truck was funny! and he deserved it!

and then a few minutes later, here comes wony marching over to your desk and slamming her paper down in front of you. what you didn't see was a proper apology but rather a big drawing of a middle finger. this was useless.

"do you wanna go to jail, jang? don't forget that this isn't the first time you've broken a literal law!"

wonyoung merely shrugged, a cocky smile on her lips, "you're just afraid you'll miss me."

you grabbed a new piece of paper, stood up, and pushed it on her chest, "get your shit together. not even your daddy can pull you out of the mess you want to create." but wonyoung was not at all threatened! see, she has always thought that as much as you were a pain in her ass for always scolding her about what she wore, her attitude, and everything... you were still hot. and to you, even when wonyoung was the bane of your existence, you still wanted her badly deep down (pretty, charismatic, cute smile... who could ever resist?), so you didn't complain at all when she suddenly grabbed your waist and kissed you 😳😳

it was messy, what with wonyoung biting your lips and forcing her tongue in your mouth,,, and it wasn't until she lifted you on top of your desk that she finally pulled away, busying her hands with unbuttoning your shirt, her lips now on your neck,,, the way she wouldn't stop teasing you 😭😭 "d'you get me in trouble just so you can have me alone? you could have just told me that you wanted me, prez." shes so annoying 😩

shhdfdkffbf wony marking you all over and you complaining about it 😭😭 AND YOU'RE ARGUING EVEN WHEN SHE HAS HER DICK INSIDE YOU BCS SHE'S TOO FAST OR SOMETHING 💀 you really have no fucking idea why girls throw themselves on her all the time when all she's focused on is her pleasure 🙄 but wony doesn't give a fuck, she's still pissed at you for making her look weak and small now 🫠🫠 so she doesn't care that her pace is too fast, or that she practically forced her big cock inside your tight walls, or that she left too many bite marks on your neck and shoulders... people were gonna know what happened here, and people will know that it was all her doing 😈

wony forcing your legs open for her while she pounds your cunt 🤤🤤🤤 but she's baby so she was whining and groaning in your ear, head buried on your shoulder bcs you feel really good :(( and she gets addicted to the way you say her actual name, totally different from the usual spiteful way you say 'jang', so she makes you say it again and again :((( your voice becoming the thing that grounds her but god she literally can't help but just ruin you so after coming together for the first time, wony immediately puts your legs on the ground and bends you over :((((

her saying mean things to you while she's destrying your cunt from behindddd 🫠🫠

"you're a f-fucking bitch, prez... i hate you.."

"be thankful that you're so pretty, and that this pussy is fucking sweet c-cuz.. ahh, fuck...! i would have gotten you expelled a long time ago... mhmm.. feels so good... so good..."

"from now on, i'm gonna make you my slut... i'm sure you'd like that, unnie.. j-jang wonyoung's cute little cocksleeve sounds more of a better title than student council president..."

needless to say, she fucks you stupid until detention was over! but since you still had stuco prez things to do until sundown, you had to stay in school and ofc wony did too 😁 tho you didn't complain this time bcs cockwarming her while you did your work and kissing her from time to time made everything a little less boring! 🤤

#ive smut #ive x fem reader #ive x reader #ive imagines #jang wonyoung imagines #jang wonyoung x reader #jang wonyoung smut #wonyoung imagines #wonyoung smut #wonyoung x reader #girl group x reader #girl group imagines #girl group smut

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firefly--bright · 7 months ago

Text

unearthed.

jean kirstein x fem!reader, modern a.u., buzzfeed unsolved a.u.

summary ; you dont know just how many watchful souls listen to you and jean speak, waiting, watching. maybe it's just you, but the prison air feels warmer. warnings ; mentions of violence, a little horror (? literally just the tiniest bit), talks of death. cringe humor. a/n ; happy halloween my beloveds. crazy that halloween and diwali were on the same day. kinda poetic lowkey. im DEAD TIRED so ykw that means! happy fireflyfic day! (and happy diwali to those who celebrate :)) taglist ; @holding-infinity-and-a-book , @mrsnobodynobody , @hopeless-anti-romantic , @jeanscremebrulee , @berrijam , @happxme , @cherrypieyourface , @imgayandshesanime , @moonmalice , @kivernova , @potaho3frog , @xakilicious , @katestrophes , @gojo-ana , @ppushable , @zombiefiedskeivy

masterlist is in pinned post! ✿ enter my taglist! ✿

The prison wasnt eerie, which should’ve struck you as concerning.

No, rather, the opposite, the fact that it was a little too comfortable, a little too lived-in to be considered ghostly was what you found…weird. Or maybe it was jean’s presence next to yours, the coldness of the air masked by his warmth and stolen jacket perched over your shoulders that made the air feel a little more breathable.

Connie and marco are huddled over the camera, speaking in hushed whispers - some technical jargon that your brain is too tired to recognize.

Jean shifted from beside you, adjusting his own coat - not stolen - and thumbed the straps over his chest that snuggly held a smaller camera so it fit better over him. He cleared his throat when he caught you zoning out, “know your lines?” he asked, a prompt for you to speak your mind.

You smiled cheekily, looking at him under the dim, sole flashlight. “By heart. Scared, jean-boy?”

“Dont call me that on camera, please,” he says, eyes screwing shut when you shine your light straight into them.

“Have i ever embarrassed you? You do that to yourself more than i do,” “okay that’s…intentional. It helps with the character im going for.” you snort. “Damsel in distress?” he scoffs, “i had to save you last time, remember?” “that was just an excuse for you to hold my hand, you can admit it. The cameras arent rolling yet,” you tease, bumping your shoe with his worn-out converses. He lets you. There isnt much he doesnt let you do to him.

“Alright, cameras are gonna start in three…two.. One!” marco’s voice is characteristically calming, even at a higher pitch.

Your shoulders stand straighter as you look into the lens, placing the flashlight right under your chin. “hello, watchers! Welcome back to another episode of Unearth - a series where we try to gather evidence of the paranormal to see who wins - a believer,” you say, pointing the light under jeans chin briefly before settling it back under yours, “or a skeptic.” “it’s not a competition,” “right. Of course not.” you say, winking into the camera. Its jean’s turn to speak, his voice a low baritone, and you can see his breath becoming foggy into the now november air. “We are here today at the Marley Prison, rumored to be the host of seventy percent of the state’s most wanted criminals since the early eighteen hundred's. And we’re standing infront of it now and it’s fucking creepy,” “right, and it was also incredibly overcrowded, so-” “-so just, a terrible place to live in.” “yeah, but they killed people,” “...right. Most of them.” “i’ve heard it smells like shit,” you say, almost forgetting that this might get broadcasted, but jean’s eyes on you seemed to have that effect. forgetting the size of your own beating hear, forgetting where you were, melting away any proof of life except his.

He smirks, looking straight at the camera once more. “Right, that’s why i have-” he pulls out a small spray bottle. From what you could read, the text flashed, “FLOWER POWER!” and your smile turned into a laugh. “- this air freshener right here.” “right. That’ll protect us.” “if i get possessed i’d want.. It to smell, like-” “-like flower power-” “right.” now the both of you are laughing, shoulders shaking.

“Great. Let’s head inside, guys,” marco says, smile on his face, and eren puts the camera down to view what he had gathered.

“After you,” jean says, his shoes scruffing against the harsh stones underneath, spreading his arm infront of you as a guide.

“Pussy,” you muttered, making him sputter.

“Alright,” you say, settling on the cold hard ground. Cell number 509, holding the last inmate of the entire prison who passed away in the very same, cramped room. Only a mattress and a sink to keep him company, a small, hand-sized window on the wall opposite to the door, meant to be locked at all times.

“Dangerous people in this place,” you say, mostly to yourself. Your partner was on the ground floor of the vicinity, in another building entirely, investigating by himself. You decided to split up to see if that might spite any spirits to act, planning on asking questions to the different people that were barely alive, living in the space so freely disturbed. The camera crew were also downstairs, waiting on the two of you to be done. All you had was an old walkie-talkie that connected to jean’s.

“You there?” his voice - filled with static and concern - reaches the confines of the prison cell. “Yep. where are you?” you ask, sitting in the middle of the floor, pulling your knees up to your chest, your flashlight flickering. “Im at the uh… that punishment place.” “ah. Im in Dean Cooper’s cell.” “oh,” he says. “Why dont we just use our phones for this part?” he asks, a beep following him. You smile. “I dont know, actually. Do you- should we?” “yeah that’d be.. I mean, better communication. Audio..quality - there are so many bugs here,” he speaks as you switch your phone on, dialing his number. He picks up not even a second in.

“Okay, can you hear me better?” he asks, and you rest your back against the thick wall. The door - heavy and cold - is fully closed so you could get a better experience, the full creeps. You nod, knowing he cant see it. “yep. Its crazy that people had to live like this,” you speak, holding the microphone part of your device close to your mouth, his voice on speaker. Something alive to fill the walls, more than your own presence. “Yeah. well it’s crazy that they committed so many crimes, honestly,” “i know.”

You’re supposed to be filming. Your camera is rolling already and youre supposed to be speaking to a presumed dead person but a holy one is roaming downstairs without you and all you have is his voice as proof. “Hey,” jean calls out, and you thank good network reception and technology to have his voice be so clear, without cuts, real against your hand. “Im at the uh… what’s it called? The place where they could talk to their loved ones right now.” “ah,” “it feels weird.” a beat of silence. “Weird how?” you ask, your voice quiet.

“Like-” theres a shifting sound at the end of the line, followed by a slight creak. “- weird in the sense that… i dont know, like, people still loved and cared for quote-unquote bad people,”

You hum. Your head now also rests against the wall, too unaware to keep it up, too comfortable to find your own muscles. “I dont know. You’re always better with the words and shit.” he says, and you give him a small laugh. “Words and shit?” “yeah like, you know what to say.” “i mean, these people are dead, jean, theres a real small chance they can even hear us.” “i know, but like, even to alive people.” its almost 3 am, your phone says, and your heart increases in size, a little too comfortable against your ribcage.

Have you ever felt that before? the muscle that’s supposed to be contained in a confined space now opens itself up and you have no choice but to let it. It grows, bigger, until youre body is tattered and all that remains as proof is your heart, big and timid, still beating, waiting for jean’s eyes to look at it. You havent. You wonder if any of the people half-alive in this place have.

“I mean, love is alot of patience,” you start, your fingers fiddling with the end of your jacket. A stray piece of thread. You hear him humming in agreement and continue, “maybe they just… couldnt say it. How many times have you been able to not say that you love someone, y’know? And then you get the chance to but then it gets lost in all the other unimportant things and maybe that… maybe that’s love. The unimportant things.” you say. Your fingers feel funny, tingly, hearing his voice saying something at the end of your sentence. Youre too caught up to say something important as a reply.

So you settle. Listen. “Like, imagining this place alive… y’know. Like not in a creepy way but in like… it’s - like so much time passed, and so much was said here.” he says. His voice holds importance in your hands, and you trace shapes into the side of your phone with your thumb as if its the back of his hand and you’ve taken it in yours, cold and patient, unimportant. Tracing shapes that cant be seen. He hears them though. It’s in every pause he takes, every breath he hears on your end of the line and he wonders if you know how your alive-ness makes him braver than the night. Brave enough to know that speaking is something to be accomplished, that you’re listening.

He stares at the glass window in front of him, sitting on the chairs that prisoners used to sit on with hope in their eyes. At least, that’s how he imagines it. Theres a small hole in the window, enough only to catch a couple breaths and silenced sentences and he can only imagine how the other person mightve felt, seeing their loved one behind a blurry and unkept screen.

“Im not going to empathize with them, obviously, but, i feel like… i mean, obviously this place was built to be inhumane. The fact that they even included that section of the prison, though.. I dont know. it's kinda nice.” you say, and he closes his eyes to pretend youre in front of him. Its not that hard, in all honesty, because your voice fills his ears and he’d rather listen to proof of the living - with her shoe kicking his, with her voice teasing his shrieks - rather than the minute but present proof of the dead. He knew someone - barely alive souls, watching - had to be listening to your conversation but he also knew that he was listening to it too and he’d rather commit to the cold of your familiar hands than the unfortunately lived-in warmth of this place.

“It is.” he agrees, his chin tilting up, his shoulders relaxing. One hand in his pocket, the other holding his phone, microphone to his lips with the speaker on. He wasnt alone. His phone’s screen is blurry and unkept, but he wasnt alone.

“Y’know that’s what i find kind of… i dont know, comforting? About like, something this hopeless. That, like.. There’s a recreational room that they had. Like the option was there for them to sit down there and talk, maybe. I dont know how that wouldve gone-” you say, voice ending in a self-aware laugh, making him smile, “-but it was there, right. Same with this communication room…thingie. Like the option of loving is there.”

Your voice floats against the walls of the room, touches the glasses separating him and the world, before coming back to him. His chest feels funny, more aware that it’s there. Not just as an organ and something trivial that helps him breathe but now as something larger than himself. Something less candid, hidden under layers of clothing and skin built to be thick, raised to be soft, and it almost lays there, in front of him, inhaling the sound of your voice like it’s a new source of oxygen. And it grows. Alive.

“Option of loving,” he echoes, eyes now fluttering open and looking at the expanse of the tattered ceiling above him, spotting shapes. Option of loving. “Like even now there’s like.. Im sitting here, and there’s notches on the wall. Like the… four standing lines and then a slash through them. Like the hope of getting out isnt gone. Its… cool how humans just do that.” you say. He clings onto every word, his own little prayer against the dark, unsaid but important. Option of loving.

He looks back infront of him, staring at the glass window again. Theres gunk in the corners of it and spiderwebs claiming it as their home in a place as haunted as this. “And even if i dont… believe in ghosts it’s like…cool to think about in the sense that, i dont know, everything is a proof of life. Y’know?” you ask, ready for confirmation knowing that he’d provide it to you. Anything you’d ask.

“Thats… i didnt see it like that,” he admits, “i mean i just saw it as like… confirmation that dead people are dead and that if there’s an afterlife we have to chose a right way to live, something we’re proud of, so that we dont regret it when we’re… dead and roaming the halls, waiting to be found, yknow?” “like grief.” you answer, and he shifts in his seat, getting a bit more comfortable. He nods, knowing you wont see it. “Yeah. kind of.” “that’s…poetic. We should start a podcast-” “-shut up,” and both your voices are broken up by laughs, short and warm and proof of being alive and roaming the halls, waiting to be found.

There’s a dog howling in the distance. No light in the room that you’re in, barely any air, coolness of november flush against your skin despite your layers. His voice holds you, a little blanket, cocooning you around yourself. “Hey, you’re supposed to come find me,” you say, reminding him of his task of peering into the halls, asking ghosts and bugs to come closer to him. Whatever’s alive or half-dead or half-alive or half-already-living. “And you’re supposed to play twenty questions with your hot date,” “i think he’s pretty cold, actually,” you say, he laughs. Another shift in fabric, another creak - he’s gotten up from his place on the chair, now warmed, soon to be claimed by the prison’s musty air, but for now it’s there. Fully alive.

“My battery’s gonna die.” he says, voice a little solemn, his footsteps squeaking against the floor, rubber on hard cement. “We have walkie-talkies,” you provide, your voice full around it’s edges with your own smile and jean almost asks why youre smiling, but refrains. He’ll ask when he finds you. Or maybe he’ll tell you he’s in love with you. Or maybe the words will get lost under all the other unimportant things that he has to say to you.

Or maybe that’s just what love is. The unimportant things, layered, hidden, chest and heart, large, warm, growing.

#sorry this is bad guys #if it is dont tell me pleas #jean kirstein x reader #jean kirstein #jean kirschstein x reader #aot #jean kirstein x you #shingeki no kyojin #attack on titan #jean kirschtein #fireflys rambles #marco bodt #connie springer #eren yeager

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auspicioustidings · 8 months ago

Text

Ae Fond Kiss - Part 8 (Final)

A Red, Red Rose

Summary: A bombshell is dropped and you look to the future. Words: 2k TWs: mention of miscarriage

So I've lost interest in this fic hence why we have a rushed wrap up because I didn't just want to abandon it :') All parts - 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8

“We gonna do this forever then Johnny?”

It was a form of torture Simon was sure, them having lunch together once a week every week and making small talk. He missed his best friend. He missed being able to say something outrageous and knowing Johnny would call him a sick bastard and then immediately try to outdo him.

“Eat lunch?” Johnny replied a little miserably, shuffling pasta about his plate.

“Johnny…”

“What dae ye want me tae say LT?”

“Not your LT anymore, retired remember? And Price told me about your promotion.”

Captain John MacTavish did have a nice ring to it, and Soap had more than earned the stripes. In another world he’d have grinned at Ghost, smug as anything and making some comment about being able to order him around now. But instead he frowned and Simon hated it.

“Talk to me for Christ sake!”

“I cannae! Ye want me tae tell ye how much I miss your wife? How it kills me that she’ll never forgive me and that she’s right about it?”

“Johnny…”

“Or were ye hoping tae hear that I dinnae even regret Las Almas? It’s ruined everything, but I��ve loved you since I broke my fingers on that stupid bloody mask and I didnae even realise until we nearly fucking died! Ignored it even when I did, had 9 years tae think about how either way I was breaking my own heart because it decided it loved two different people!”

Fuck. He was crying. Johnny was crying. And Simon was caught between wanting to kiss him or kill him. He had never expected to be loved back was the thing. He did something unbearably selfish on the understanding it was all one sided, that the fuck was just the adrenaline from thinking they were going to die and they’d forget it ever happened. And then everything had went to shit and he had fallen in love with Johnny’s widow. He’d already lost one person he loved because he was too scared to admit it, he just couldn’t do it again, selfish asshole that he was.

“You should regret it. You… we hurt her. Hurt her so bad that we might lose her.”

“Aye. I deserve tae lose her though, never deserved tae have her in the first place anyway. I just caught you in the crossfire of my sins.”

“Who the fuck are you?” Simon said with full derision.

This has gone on long enough. So what? Everyone was just supposed to be miserable forever? They were supposed to just lay down and take it? Johnny looked at him, hurt and confused.

“I watched you fight every break up. You fought tooth and fucking nail to make it work. When you fucked up you made it up to her. When she fucked up you forgave her. And what? Now that Johnny is dead? Either you still love her and are willing to fight to get her back, or any part of the man I loved died in Russia.”

“You’ve lost yer fucking mind Si, she’s your wife!”

Simon stood, determined.

“And our wife needs to remember who she belongs to and who belongs to her.”

As he started marching off Johnny near choked and scrambled to follow.

“Ye cannae be serious! Leave her be Si! Ye cannae just barge in and-and-”

“And tell her she’ll try forgive us because we’ll spend the rest of our lives making it up to her? That we can start right now by showing her how well you can follow orders and how well I can give them for her benefit? I bloody well can and I’m bloody well going to. Either you’re with me or you can stay and mope.”

“...aye sir.”

–

Once upon a time Joey being at a sleepover was exciting, it meant some much needed alone time with your husband. Now though? The house felt cold, empty. You considered asking Gaz and Price’s partner if they’d come round to hang out, but it felt so messy when they were just as much Simon’s friend as they were yours. It would somehow make you miss him more.

Everytime he was at the house briefly and you made polite conversation you wanted to cry. You had a few times, only after he was gone of course. That big fucking lummox. You wanted to strangle him, but then again that wasn’t exactly new. And you wanted rhubarb and sugar. Oh you could murder some rhubarb dipped in sugar like your parents used to give you as a kid.

The door went just as you finished pouring a large glass of wine. Simon stood looking like he sometimes did when you were about to get absolutely ruined in bed and you swore your heart nearly stopped. Johnny was by his side, pupils blown with a blush crawling up his neck as if he somehow knew exactly what images just popped into your mind. Oh. Oh you suddenly wanted them so badly it hurt.

And damn them for knowing you so well, for being able to fucking tell. Simon’s lips were on yours as he walked into the house, you being led backwards. You were clawing at his shirt as he squeezed your ass until you bumped into the kitchen island and realised how insane this was, pulling away to try find Johnny. He had followed, was swallowing thickly as Simon started to kiss and nip a path down your neck. This was insane. This was certifiably mental. You could not… have a threesome? Have a threesome with your husband and your husband who had fucked each other ten years ago on a mission before one faked his damn death.

“W-what are you doing? We can’t…” you mumbled, trying to get your head on straight since currently your brain seemed to reside between your legs.

“Tell me what you need princess. Want me on my knees begging against your pussy? Want Johnny to fly you to Hawaii and keep you in the lap of luxury for a month? Want us to be here every single day in the garden announcing to the neighbours that we deserve a fucking whipping for how badly we fucked everything up with the gorgeous mother of our child?”

Christ almighty. So much for Simon being the unemotional and ineloquent one. You couldn’t handle this. You couldn’t handle how much you wanted to just give in. He made it sound so easy, like you could have them both, like they would give you whatever you wanted just to stay by your side despite what they’d done. He was going to his knees in front of you.

“Rhubarb!”

The room froze for a moment as Simon hit the ground with his knees and just stared at you.

“...is that, uh, a safeword?” Johnny asked, seemingly surprised out of the slack jawed, dazed state he seemed to have been in.

“No. I mean I… rhubarb. You asked what I needed. Rhubarb and sugar, but we have sugar in the cupboard so… just the rhubarb.”

“...ok, rhubarb. We can do rhubarb” Simon said after a moment, taking it in his stride as he snuck a peck to your stomach where his head currently was and then stood.

If they just left and went to the shops maybe you could… you didn’t know. Maybe you could hurriedly touch yourself to get rid of the ache between your legs and then neck your wine to get rid of the one in your chest. Simon turned and nodded to Johnny and took a few steps, so you picked up the glass of wine to calm yourself down only for Johnny to pluck it out of your hands.

“Unless you’ve suddenly developed a taste for red wine I’d appreciate that back” you snapped at him.

“And since you’ve suddenly developed a taste for rhubarb I’m naw giving it tae ye.”

“MacTavish” Simon scolded, sure Johnny was about to ruin what he was hoping was some reconciliation here.

“That’s not…” you started before you went pale.

“How ye been feeling recently hen?”

Oh no. Not now. You just assumed you felt sick because of the stress. But then the take away food had seemed so off despite you usually loving it. You kept having to throw up. You were lethargic. And now you needed rhubarb and sugar, something you had only craved twice in your adult life, the most recent being over a decade ago. The last time you were pregnant.

“What’s going on?” Simon asked, not liking at all how your face just fell as he strode back to you. “What did you do Johnny? It’s ok sweetheart, I’m sorry we just showed up, seemed like a good idea at the time. Just missed you so much.”

The universe had a sick sense of humour. Over a year of trying for a baby with this man. 18 fucking months. And you get pregnant right before your other husband comes back from the dead, the one it turns out your current husband has slept with behind your back? This could not be happening, but all the signs were there. When had you last had a period? You hadn’t even noticed that you were late with everything going on.

You tried to do the maths in your head. It had been a few months since Johnny had come back, so you were at the very least that far along. 8 weeks. You had miscarried at 10. Maybe you were further along, maybe you were past the worst of the danger. God you prayed you were past the worst of the danger.

“Si, gie her some room would ye? We’re right here, if ye want us tae be. It’s up to you, you dinnae have tae…” Johnny said, struggling to get out the words.

There was no thought in your mind that you would get rid of this baby, but the fact that he was putting that option out there when he himself had always been so desperate for a big family was something you appreciated more than you could say. Goddamnit, he still loved you. 9 years away and he still bloody loved you. Would still do whatever it took for you to be happy. Even if in that case this meant not having another baby.

How strange that you thought of this baby as his. How strange that you just as strongly thought of it as Simon’s. If the past few months had shown you anything it was that you could look after a child between the three of you, so it wasn’t like they had to be with you to do it. Even if you’d like them to be. Despite it all, you’d really fucking like them to be.

“Princess?”

You took a deep breath and smiled softly at Simon who was looking increasingly alarmed. You caressed his face and it felt like relief to touch him.

“Maybe we can go a trip to the doctor on the way for the rhubarb Casper. Think we might be pregnant.”

–

A very healthy baby girl with an incredibly healthy set of lungs. You sang to her, love like A Red, Red Rose for your little Rose. You bawled your eyes out when Joey refused to turn down his hearing aids even when she was screaming at the top of her lungs because that was his baby sister and he would never not want to hear her. It was a good thing you could all sign with the way she drowned you all out, even Johnny as clumsy as his hands were with it had dedicated himself to learning since he had got home.

You were fairly certain your little Rose was making Price broody with Gaz and their partner finding their grumpy old man losing his mind over a chubby baby adorable. Although there was a good chance Price wasn’t making any babies with how you had planted your foot in his groin when he finally came out of hiding.

You were still figuring things out, but right now? Right now you were happy. You had two perfect children by two imperfect husbands. It was up in the air what your family was going to look like in the future. Did you want to forgive them? Even if you did, would you be friends and co-parents or something more?

That you hadn’t quite decided yet. But you were determined that whatever the future held for you, it was going to be a future full of love and laughter.

#mhairiwrites #never writing long form drama again actually it's a ghastly nightmare #so many dramatic ideas but so little ability to make them happen on a page :')

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j0eyj0rdis0n · 5 months ago

Text

RAMMSTEIN - HOW YOU MET

TILL LINDEMANN - sex shop

You were trying your best to keep your eyes down and focus on what you were looking for. Searching through the aisles for the toy you wanted. You tried to stay away from other people in the small store, decently embarrassed you were even here. You should’ve just ordered a new vibrator online…

You felt like you looked through half of the store before you found the aisle you needed. But of course. Someone else was also looking for the same item.

Shit.

Half of you wanted to leave and just forget about it. But the other half of you was dragging you towards the man who stood in front of the vibrators. Why you ask? Fuck if you knew.

You felt like dying as you stepped up next to him, looking quickly over the selection.

“So we have the same idea.” The man’s deep voice spoke.

You could barely meet his eyes, looking at him briefly before nodding and going back to the task at hand.

“Shy are you? Or do you speak Deutsch?”

“I can understand you…” you replied, honestly not wanting to stay and speak.

The gruff man reaches over and places a finger under your chin, lifting your gaze to him. “Pretty girl you are… Shy or not.”

You couldn’t tear your eyes away from his. As if entranced by his stare.

A wicked grin spreads across his face. “Take my number, give a call if you are interested in other toys. I’m sure I could give you a demonstration.” He lets his hand fall to grab yours, pulling a pen from his pocket and writing his number down.

You stood shocked, letting him give you a knowing smile with a wink for the road.

PAUL LANDERS - at the park

The spring breeze swept your hair off your shoulders as you walked through the large park. It wasn’t super often you went out like this, but you felt a change of pace would do you good. This was one of the first nice weather weeks of the year so you couldn’t help going out and enjoying the fresh air.

It didn’t take long for you to find a nice place to settle and paint. You sat with your legs crossed on the shaded bench, beginning to paint the scene in front of you in your small sketchbook.

You barely noticed the man watching each of your brush strokes until he spoke up. “Schönen kunstwerke!” He beamed.

Your head snapped up, startled with his sudden appearance. “Oh- uh… I don’t… Nien deutsch…” you responded, feeling horrible you haven’t learned enough German to understand what the man was saying.

“Oh! You are a great artist!” He quickly spoke, leaving no time for you to be embarrassed.

“Ah- thank you…” you smiled graciously.

“Do you paint people? Or just the green?” He asked, gesturing to the land around him, making sure you understood his English.

“I can paint just about anything.” You can’t help but smile, appreciating him communicating the best he could.

He took a seat next to you on the wooden bench, his smile never once leaving his face. “You’ll show me?”

“I don’t have much material with me right now…”

“Mat…erial..?” His thick accent was dare you say it, adorable.

“Artwork!”

“Ah… material!”

The two of you exchanged names and spoke cheerfully about your artwork, flipping through your unfinished sketchbook. You didn’t realize that it had been hours since you two began talking until the sun was kissing the horizon

“It’s getting dark… Do you mind giving me your number? We can continue to chat, and maybe someday I’ll paint you.” You offered, handing your phone to him.

He put in his number, saving the contact before handing his phone back to you. “It was nice to meet you! I am excited to talk again!”

CHRISTOPH SCHNEIDER - restaurant

You were working at a fancy restaurant in the city, just another normal busy evening. You were making decent money and weren’t opposed to going home early with your hard earned cash.

But of course you weren’t surprised when your boss came over and asked you to take a party of six. And of course, you agreed. Making more money wasn’t a problem after all. Usually parties were good tippers in a place like this.

You greeted the group of gentlemen kindly, your eyes quickly falling on one particular long haired man.

Damn…

The guy was absolutely stunning. I mean all of them were good looking. But you couldn’t seem to tear your eyes away from him as you took their orders. You made sure to quickly make your exit once everything was written down, trying hard to hide your blush.

Throughout their meal you watched them laugh and joke, checking in on them periodically to refill water, give them more drinks, and to make sure they were doing well.

You passed out checks at the end of the meal, thanking them for coming in and wishing them well. They all paid and signed their checks, leaving one by one.

“Entschuldigung, miss.” A low voice spoke behind you, you turned around quickly to be met with the long haired man from your table. “Ich wollte dir sagen, du bist schön. Ich hoffe, dich wieder zu sehen.”

He handed the check back to you before following his friends out the door.

The tip doubled the total of his bill, with what you could only assume was his number written next to his signature.

“Schneider…”

FLAKE LORENZ - library

You didn’t expect to grab the same book at the same time. Feeling resistance as you tried to pull the book from the shelf.

“What the hell..?”

It took you one hard yank before you realized your hand wasn’t the only one on the book. Looking through the bookshelf to see the man on the other side.

“Oh god!- I’m so sorry!” You exclaim, trying to keep your voice down.

“Nein nein. Bitte übernehmen.” He responded seriously.

Your German was rough, so it took you a second to translate his brief statement. “Are you sure..?” You asked, mentally face palming yourself for replying in English. You were sure the man thought you were an idiot at this point.

“I am sure. I will find another to read.” His English was probably about as rough as your German was. Well… He could at least form a sentence in the language he wanted. “Your name..?” He asked through the library bookshelf.

“Y/N.”

“Y/N… I will teach you German. You need to learn if you need to live here.” He said matter of factly. You tried your hardest not to be offended in the manner in which he said that.

“Come tomorrow? We will start.” He gave a small smile before realization flashed over his face. “Flake. Nice to meet you.” He extended a hand through the small book shaped hole.

“Bis morgen Flake.” You laughed quietly, shaking his hand before going to check out your book.

RICHARD KRUSPE - clubbing

The two of you met at a club, you had been ditched by your friends and were sitting lonely at the bar, stirring your drink in discontent. You didn’t even look up when Richard slid up to the bar, ordering a drink with an accent that made you raise your head.

He looks down at you and raises an eyebrow, his gaze intense but concerned. “Are you lost, miss?” He asked, giving a quick glance around the room to see who might be missing a cute girl like you.

“My friends ditched me for some random guys they just met.” You said bitterly.

He nodded in understanding, getting his drink and sitting next to you.

“Assholes.” He stated with a charming smile. Trying to lift your spirits the best he could.

You laughed at his comment, looking him over closer with a smile on your face. “Where are you from? You have an accent.”

He held his chest where his heart would be, playing mock offense. “Damn… thought I was doing good losing the accent. I’m from Germany since you’re so curious, fraulein.” He winked at the addition of ‘fraulein’.

“You’re a long ways from home then.”

“I’ll be back home soon enough my dear.” He pulls out a pen from his pocket and scribbles some numbers on the small drink napkin, handing it to you as he stood. “I’ll be here a few more days, if you decide you’re ready to ditch those friends back.” He smirks, placing the napkin in your hand before kissing your knuckles and walking away into the crowd.

OLIVER RIEDEL - grocery store

You met the guy at the grocery store of all places. He was looking through the produce as you walked down the small aisle.

Looking up from your list you two meet eyes and it feels as if the world falls away. And only when he gives you a cheeky smile do you realize you’re staring. Shit…

“Do you need help finding something fraulein?” He asked, his tone matching that teasing smile he wore.

“Oh no- no- I’m fine. Danke…” you replied, blush dusting your cheeks.

“Let me see your list, maybe I can help. You seem… lost.” He smirked, holding his hand out for your list. You hand him the list and he briefly looks over it, gently taking your pen from your hand and writing something down on the paper.

“Bread is right down that way mein liebling.” He gestures down the way to the aisle, swiftly handing you your list and pen back before continuing toward the checkout with his basket of groceries.

You stood there stunned at the quick encounter. Watching as he left before looking down at your list, a phone number written down below your last item, bread.

#till lindemann #paul landers #christoph schneider #schneider #flake lorenz #christian lorenz #richard z kruspe #richard kruspe #oliver riedel #rammstein #rammstein imagines

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muwapsturniolo · 1 year ago

Text

✯𝐓𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐀𝐬 𝐌𝐲 𝐅𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐒𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐬✯

IN WHICH... i explain my fav songs of the month and how they match with the triplets.

WARNINGS: sex is briefly talked about but its nothing really.

𝐀𝐋𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐄𝐆𝐎 ☆ 𝐃𝐎𝐄𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐈 𝐅𝐓 𝐉𝐓

I want to start by saying why this is one of my fav songs at the moment. I love Doechii THE BITCH ALWAYS SERVES CUNTTTTTTTT!!!!! this song just does sum to me, it makes me want to go to the ballroom and vouge and do five death drops in a row! the beat, the lyrics, THE MUSIC VIDEO! it reminds me sm of Azelia Banks (that hoe so problematic it's not even funny anymore) and i love it!

now on to why i think this song is perfect for nick

an alter ego is basically a persons second face/persona that we don't see until it's time for it to come out. and one thing i think a lot of people in this fandom forgets is that WE DON'T KNOW THEM! we as viewers have this image of them in our head based off of what they let us see through a screen, and nick doesn't let us forget that. he has stated many times that most of our opinions are wrong (them not being friends with people, la vs Boston debate etc.) and i think that's important.

I'm not saying nick has an alter ego or is two faced,but he is a leo man and them mfs headstrong! and that's what this song breathes!!! it gives a headstrong bad bitch that nobody can say shit to!!! THAT IS NICK!!! NICK ALWAYS PUTTING US AND OTHERS IN PLACE AND ITS NEEDED!!!

"NAH NAH NAH NAH NAH THESE HOES AINT PHASIN ME. NAH NAH NAH NAH NAH BOO BOO BITCH YOU DEAD TO ME" nick does not let this fandom phase him fr. he does wtf he wanna do when he wanna do it. of course he loves us and appreciates us, but he not with our bull shit!!

"UNFAZED UNBOTHERED UNFUCKWITHABLE BITCH, WHY BOTHER?" a lot of people like to sit up here and run they mouth saying nick is so bothered, and he cares too much about what people think. LIE!!!!! YALL JUST DONT UNDERSTAND HIM!!! HES UNFAZED WITH THE BULL SHIT, IT DON'T BOTHER HIM FR!!! HE FINDS THE SHIT FUNNY! HE LIKE MAKING YALL TALK ABOUT HIM BUT HE DONT UNDERSTAND WHY YALL START WITH HIM AND HIS FAMILY IN THE FIRST PLACE.

"IM THE PROBLEM, IM THE VILLIAN. I DONT SEE THESE HOES IN THESE RICK SHEILDS, THROWIN DIRT ON MY NAME AND HE GON HIT STILL!" people love to make nick the villain when he isn't!!! some people fr never had somebody tell them how it is and they just run with the narrative that someone is being mean when they not!!! he not being mean, he keeping it a buck fifty with yall!!! and tbh he don't care if yall see as the villain cuz why? he still got more money than us and we never gon be on his level fr.

@thenickgirl had to let ppl know to stop messing with him!!!!

𝐋𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐈'𝐒 𝐉𝐄𝐀𝐍𝐒 ☆ 𝐁𝐄𝐘𝐎𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐅𝐓 𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐓 𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐄

i want to say this before i start. BEYONCE PUT HER WHOLE MF COOCHIE INTO COWBOY CARTER OMFGGGG!!!! IM SECRECTLY A WHORE FOR COUNTRY MUSIC SO I REALLY FEEL LIKE SHE MADE THIS ALBUM FOR ME!!!

OK LET'S GET INTO IT NO DOJA!

this description is going to be a bit different from Nick's and Chris's because I'm focusing more on the vibe of the song. the whole premise of this song (in my opinion) is two lovers just loving on each other! idk why i get big Matt vibes from this song😭 maybe because i love the idea of Cowboy Matt (before anyone say anything I'm making a Cowboy Matt series! it's already being written!) and yeah i don't have to say much more on that topic.

like yall know when Matt be smiling and giggling at his phone in car videos? i could already imagine his girlfriend sending him a pic of her ass in the new jeans and he just-

lemme stop before i write a whole separate fic for this song.

"YOU CALL ME PRETTY LITTLE THING, AND I LOVE TO TURN HIM ON." matt would deff call his girl a pretty little thing. she would be blushing and kicking her feet an ion blame her!!! and i too would love to turn him on!!

"BOY ILL LET YOU BE MY LEVI JEANS SO YOU CAN HUG THAT ASS ALL DAY LONG" matt would not resist looking at his gf ass and he would deff walk with his hand in her back pocket!!

"SO HOP OUT THE PHONE AND BRING THAT SHIT ON 'CAUSE IM GOING NOSEDIVE" matt the munch. pussy drunk. hurry tf up and bring your ass to him cause he bout to eat you out for hours!!!

thank you for coming to my ted talk on why Cowboy Matt is my fav and i need Matt eating me out ASAP!!!

𝐋𝐔𝐒𝐓 ☆ 𝐋𝐈𝐋 𝐒𝐊𝐈𝐄𝐒

I PROMISE IM NOT ONE OF THE FANS WHO LOVES SKIES CUZ OF CHRIS!!! I WAS LISTENING TO SKIES WHEN LIFE OF A DARK ROSE DROPPED!! i truly loves skies cuz his music just takes me back to the era of SoundCloud and i was actually happy lmao.

onto the topic.

now, i didn't pick this song cuz chris loves skies, i picked it cuz i feel like to a certain degree, it matches chris perfectly!!! lust doesn't have to mean sex, it could be towards money, adrenaline, etc.

Although Skies does talk about sex in this song, i think he's saying that he's lusting after money and the adrenaline that comes with fame and success, but he's lacking the love that was once there and he's lusting for love as well.

i think that relates to chris's whole being. he's constantly spitting out ideas and created his own brand to chase the bag, chase his dreams. i lowkey like to believe chris is an adrenaline junky. not in a sense of jumping off cliffs or anything, more in a sense of just doing stupid shit like fighting with his brothers and suggesting crazy plans.

idk if my description of this makes any sense i just can't put it into words so imma do the lyrics and try to explain further.

"GET IN MY WAY AND TRY TO BLOCK ME IMMA SHOW AGRESSION" this could be towards a person or himself. I'm not saying chris is money hungry, he's just about his bag. he wouldn't like for anyone, including himself to get in the way of making his dreams come true and if they do, i think he gets a bit hostile. it could be him cutting them off, or simply just distancing himself for a bit. if it's himself i think that's when he gets sad and beats himself up. he said it in a few videos that he becomes hard on himself, or he gets sad before bed and i think that's why.

"GOT NO REGRETS, I MADE MISTAKES, BUT I LEARNED FROM MY LESSONS" this lyrics speaks volumes for chris!!!! i feel like it was said by him that he doesn't regret things he's done in the past or experienced, but he's glad he's learned from them. i think all of them are big on "life's a lesson, learn from it." he doesn't dwell too much on the past, it's done and all he can do is move past it and learn to not make the same mistake with people or opportunities.

"DON'T BE ACTING STARSTRUCKED EVERYTIME THEY SHOW YOU LOVE." this could be towards friendships or relationships. it's no secret LA is full of fake people but it's honestly everyone at this point in time. i think chris realized that at some point. just because people smile in your face and act nice don't mean the friendship/relationship is real. people always want something, and its not always love, it could be sex, money, and or fame. it doesn't surprise him anymore. i think that's why he stick to who and what he knows, especially in the relationship sense.

i think imma do this every month, this was fun lmao. tell me what yall fav songs are atm!!!

TAGLIST 🍑

@bernardsgf @bernardsleftbootycheek @blahbel668 @mattfrfr @gdsvhtwa @sturniolo-aali @lily-loves-struniolos @kynda-avery @causeidontlikeagoldrush

@st7rnioioss @carolinalikesthings @mattslolita @suyqa @xxloveralways14 @pepsiimaxx @judespoision

@ivonchetooo1239 @imaslut4kehlani @that-general-simp @m4stermindd @itzdarling @gigisworldsstuff @adoreindie @braindead4l @pettydollie @chrissgirlsstuff @alexis007 @ratatioulle @yamamasjumpercables @luv4kozume @sturnioloslurps @kqyslyho3 @j3tblackt3ars @ilovestarz @lustfulslxt @soimightlikeoldmen69 @tastesousweet @slut4sebastiansallow @whicked-hazlatwhore @stasiesturn @loljackwasfat @nicksmainbitch @ninacutebee16 @mayhem-72 @sturniolosmind @breeloveschris @mattslolita @mattsivy @guccifrog @hysteria-things @mrssturnioloo @koris_009 @patscorner @mayhem-72 @worldlxvlys @nickuniversity @luverboychris @thenickgirl @riasturns @imwetforyourmom @junnniiieee07 @realuvrrr @milasturniolo @fwskullz @hearts4tatemcrae @mattandchrismakemewett @chrissystur @canthelpit0 @strnilo @demistyles @junovrsmp4 @heartsforchrisandmatt @maryx2xx @vecnasnose0 @freshsturns @xxsturnxx @pettydollie @crimsoncorpse @sturnssmuts @sturniolovoid @m0r94n

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imhidingonceagain · 2 years ago

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I never ever thought Slimeriana would be as tragic as they are.

(Disclaimer: Long post)

Hear me out. I think most people don't notice how sad their stories are because both Charlie and Osvaldo are funny as hell. But their characters are so fucking tragic.

I would like for people to understand that they're not the worst parents as everyone in the Island has made them look.

I'm not denying the fact that they fought a lot (that's a whole other thing because they always fought but they also ALWAYS ended up gravitating towards each other and even defending each other -and having weird sex but let's avoid that one-) but when it came to Juanaflippa they loved her with their whole hearts.

Let's remember how at first they named her "Juanaflippo" but when she told Mariana that she was a girl he accepted her IMMEDIATELY and he communicated the fact to Slime who also accepted her WITHOUT A QUESTION.

Slime adored Juana and till this day he thinks constantly about her.

But Mariana also loved her so so much. I don't know if non Spanish speaking people understand the constant words of endearment Mari gave to Juana whenever they were together. He talked sweetly to her and made sure she felt loved (look at them celebrating her birthday).

And I'm emphasizing Mari because at the end of the day he ended her life (twice).

Slimecicle, on the other hand, ended Tilin's life when he was babysitting them (I'm pretty sure Tilín was nonbinary or gender fluid, not sure).

You know why that's tragic?

Because those incidents happened because both content creators have the shittiest luck and are honestly not the best at fighting. NOT BECAUSE THEY DIDN'T CARE ABOUT THOSE KIDS.

Let's remember that everyone in the Island were thrown into parenthood and each of them did the best they could (and props to Charlie and Mariana because both of them were present for their Minecraft child).

I can never forget Slime yelling "How do I fix this?" And Mariana yelling "No, Juanaflippa, no!" When Roier told him they had to go and he couldn't even retrieve Juanas's body.

When Juana passed away seems like Mari finally understood that at the end of the day Slime and him only had each other. That's when he started saying proudly to everyone that Slime and him were a couple.

But then Tilin's accident happened and Slime went to exile and everything went to shit again.

Their interactions became minimal and that's also tragic because despite their fights they're the only ones that understand and care for each other.

Mariana was constantly mocked by Roier (I love q!Roier but he was really mean towards Mari most of the time after the incident and that's super sad when you remember that they're supposedly best friends)

And Slime also suffered because he's now considered a cold murderer by everyone.

I'm pretty sure most people don't know that not only Quackity was hunting him. When Luzu briefly cameback to the Island and BBH and Foolish told him Tilin was his child he immediately asked for Slimecicle's location so he could get "revenge" (and if you're not familiar with Luzu, you won't know what he's capable of. Slime is lucky that Luzu was busy IRL because otherwise we would have had a big confrontation).

Fast forward till the last "interaction" when Slime attended Roier and Cellbit's wedding. He bitterly said that "Mariana couldn't even be there", that only tells me that he was hoping to see Mari.

Then Roier proceed to say that Mariana had been seeing/sleeping with other people when that's certainly not true (again, I love q! Roier but what kind of friend are you, dude?)

After that Slimecicle talked to Baghera and proceeded to say that he thinks Mariana and him and not together anymore and he also said to Baghera "If you see Mariana beat the shit out of him" but honestly, he wasn't irritated when he said those things, he didn't sound angry even.

No, he sounded wounded and hopeless.

So... In one hand we have Mariana who has disappeared completely, we don't know if he's at home depressed (but that the most likely scenario. We saw at Juanas's funeral that he tends to get depressed whenever something bad happens).

On the other hand, we have Slime who has been spending more and more time as Gegg.

And let me remind you that Gegg's all fun and games until you remember that Slime admitted that everytime he becomes Gegg his true self is affected.

We don't know if Slimecicle himself will not comeback one day.

I wish they spoke to each other because I truly believe only they can help each other. Only they understand the guilt and grief they're feeling.

#slimeriana #fliporiana #elmariana #slimecicle #qsmp #Slimecicle x Mariana #slimecicle and mariana #Mariana #juanaflippa

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trulymadlysydney · 1 year ago

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Wait For Me in the Sky: Twelve

Mars lingers, looking at Harry before, at the exact same time, they come back to earth and realize they’re being watched. Mars clears her throat. “Is there anything else I can get you, Mr. Styles?”

Harry’s cheeks quirk at the formality, and he hopes Mars doesn’t notice the deep gulp. He can’t help it, hearing her call him “Mr. Styles” does something to him.

“Actually,” he says, lowering his voice, “there is one thing.”

Mars blinks, not quite catching on. “Mm?”

“Although,” Harry says quietly, “Now that I think of it, I’m not certain this airline offers the type of services I’m looking for.”

Mars lets out a loud breath when she realizes what he’s getting at, and Harry beams at her reaction. She glances around her to make sure no one else has caught on, before turning back to Harry. “Well,” she says slowly. “I’m sure something can be arranged. All you have to do is ask."

Harry grins, eyes darting down Mars’ body very briefly. He reaches up to absentmindedly play at his bottom lip. “I’m not even sure I have to ask, given the way you’re looking at me.”

***DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION***

Get all caught up HERE

MARS

It’s 3:55am, and Mars barely slept a wink.

Not that she was expecting to get much sleep anyway. After hanging up with Harry, her mind had run wild with a thousand different things she’d wished she’d said, or at least said differently, and she’d had to physically stop herself from picking up the phone to send him a text of useless clarification that she knew he didn’t need but god, it would just make her feel better if she could only--

“How was dinner with Franco last night?” The voice of her fellow crew member- Abby- pulls her from her thoughts. “You never told us.”

Mars gets a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach when she thinks about that very dinner with Franco. And up until now, she’d done a good job not thinking about it- although her anxiety hadn’t let her forget that something bad had happened. When she’d woken up for good this morning (after tossing and turning the entire night), she’d given it one thought and told herself to knock it off. She’d forced herself to shove it deep into her heart to unpack for another day, along with the strange and unwarranted guilt that had overcome her when she thought about calling Harry. She shouldn’t have called him. She should never have even thought of him. Why is she still thinking of him now? Why can’t she forget him?

“It was fine,” is all she can say. “Food was mediocre.”

The three flight attendants walk slowly through the near-empty airport-- their heels clacking against the slick floor as they make their way to their gate. For the most part, people in the airport seem to be either asleep or half-awake, and no one so much as looks up as the girls pass.

“You know she’s not asking about the food,” Jenna, the third flight attendant on the crew, speaks up. She giggles. “I half expected you to be late to the crew van today, girl. Did you stay with him?” She wiggles her eyebrows, insinuating something that makes Mars nauseous.

The girls don’t know any better, so Mars puts on her best smile. “I didn’t,” she says back, with as lighthearted a laugh as she can manage. “Too early of a start today. Plus he’s not really my type. We were just catching up as old friends.”

“Not your type?” Abby snorts. “Are you blind?”

“You cannot tell me that you don’t have any type of attraction to that man,” Jenna chimes in. “Have you seen him?”

This time, Mars’ giggle is genuine. “I have,” she says. “And there was, I guess you could say ‘a thing’ back in the day. But his personality ruins it for me.”

Abby frowns. “Don’t tell me he’s a shit human. Don’t ruin this illusion for me.”

“I mean,” Jenna says, “Can you blame her though? Girl’s had Harry Styles in her bed. I’m sure it’s hard not to compare.”

Mars swallows the lump that arises in her throat at the mere mention of Harry. She knows this is all well-intended, harmless cheek-- but it does make her sad. “That was a long time ago,” is all she can come up with.

The girls approach their gate and walk up to the counter. “Don’t tell me he’s a shit person too,” Abby says, and Jenna responds with something snarky that Mars can’t hear. Mars, instead, busies herself with speaking to the gate agent.

“Good morning!” she says, flashing her badge. “Mars Tyler. Are the pilots here yet?”

The gate agent, who’s name tag reads “Walter” offers her an almost apologetic smile. “No pilots yet,” he says. “And no plane either. Got delayed in Milwaukee this morning for some weather.”

“Love that,” Mars says sarcastically, causing Walter to chuckle.

“The good news is, they’re on their way. They’ve been able to make up for a bit of time in the air and they’re expected to land in about thirty minutes. So in the meantime, if you ladies want to hang out around here. Grab a coffee maybe. Just relax.”

The girls speak with Walter for the next couple of minutes, solidifying paperwork and guesstimating a potential boarding time, before Walter excuses himself to deal with something at another gate. Stashing their bags behind the ticket counter, the girls linger in the area, chatting quietly about their layover plans.

The layover in Dallas is long tonight, and Mars has had it before, so she knows exactly how she’s going to be spending her day. She figures she can nap for a few hours, then head out to her favorite little cafe near the hotel for lunch. Briefly, she debates inviting the girls-- because although she wants to be alone with her thoughts right now, she knows the company would be a welcome distraction.

“I’ve never been to Dallas!” Jenna says. “I didn’t know it was fun. My roommate had a layover there the other day and she told me about this one bar. Apparently it’s right down the street from the hotel. It has like, four dollar margaritas and stuff. So, if you guys are down…”

“Oh always,” Abby says. “Literally never not down for a margarita. I also--”

“Excuse me,” comes a voice behind them.

The girls turn around to see a little old woman, holding a crumpled boarding pass in her shaky hand. She looks right at Mars. “What time is boarding?”

“Oh, sorry, we’re not the gate agents,” Mars replies. “We’re the flight attendants. The gate agent will be back soon to answer any questions!”

“Oh,” the woman says, somewhat annoyed. “You can’t tell me what time boarding is going to be?”

Mars tries her best to keep her annoyance at bay. “We’re still waiting on our plane to get here, so once that arrives and the other passengers deplane and the plane gets cleaned, then the gate agent will have a bit more of an update for you.”

“What time will that be?” the woman asks.

Mars swallows down a snarky response and gives her best flight attendant smile. “I don’t know. The gate agent will be able to give you more information when he comes back.”

The old woman squints. “You’re not the gate agent?”

Mars takes a breath, then just blinks for a moment, trying to compose herself. “No, ma’am I’m one of the flight attendants.”

The woman points her shaky hand at Jenna and Abby. “Are they the gate agents?”

“No, ma’am.” Mars clears her throat and raises her voice ever so slightly so the woman can hear her better. “Again, we’re the flight attendants. The gate agent will be back soon to answer any questions you have, okay?”

“Will the gate agent be able to tell me when boarding will be?”

Mars hesitates, trying to stifle a laugh of disbelief. “I--” she begins, then lets out all of her remaining air. “Yes. The gate agent will be able to answer your questions once he gets back.”

“Oh okay.” The old woman nods. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure,” Mars says, with as sweet of a smile as she can manage. As soon as the woman is out of earshot she sighs and turns back to Jenna and Abby. “God.”

“I could never be a gate agent,” Jenna says. “I’d lose my job so quickly.”

“I would just go home crying every day,” Abby agrees. “I wouldn’t be able to handle it.”

Mars snorts. “We deal with some interesting people up in the air, too,” she says, “but yeah. I think they have it way harder down here.”

The girls fall back easily into their conversation about tonight’s events in Dallas, and Jenna continues to discuss the bar with the four dollar margaritas that is slowly moving to the top of Mars’ to-do list. She still has a sense of guilt and embarrassment regarding the way her night went, but she figures a cheap margarita and a few laughs with Jenna and Abby will be just the cure that she needs.

As she’s laughing at something Abby said and trying her best not to think about how tired she is, someone approaches from behind once more.

“Excuse me,” comes their voice.

This time, Mars can’t help but to hide her annoyance. “We’re not the gate agents,” she says quickly, turning around. “The gate agent will be back soon t--”

And when she sees who’s behind her, she falls completely silent.

There, looking sleepy and nervous and still just as delicious as ever, stands Harry Styles. A duffle bag slung haphazardly on his side, a cap hanging loosely on his head, and a lopsided grin on his face.

“I just wanted to know if I could upgrade my seat to Mars’ Tyler’s section,” he says.

Mars stands frozen, unsure if she should fall into his arms or take a step back. He scans her face anxiously, waiting for some type of reaction, and for a brief moment she forgets that anyone else is around her.

“Harry,” she says quietly, ‘What are you--”

“I love you.” It comes out of his mouth so calmly, so effortlessly, that Mars isn’t even sure she’s heard him correctly.

She blinks a few times, completely taken aback by his words. There’s an intense sincerity in his eyes, and as she scans his face, he never once looks away from her. “What--”

His voice is quiet, but charged, “I miss you. And I love you. And I know that this--” he gestures vaguely, “this setting isn’t really ideal for… for either of us but… Mars, I miss you and I need you more than anything or anyone in the world.”

Mars continues to scan his face, tears pricking her confused eyes as she struggles to hold back from leaping into his arms. “I don’t understand.” She shakes her head, fighting the smile tugging at her cheeks. “Why are you--”

She glances nervously around them then, suddenly aware of the eyes that have begun wandering and lingering on her and Harry. A few cell phones are pointed in their direction.For once, Jenna and Abby are speechless. She takes a cautious half-step back then laughs nervously. “Harry--”

“Can we go somewhere?” he asks. “Please?”

She glances slowly behind her at Jenna and Abby, who have both heard his question and immediately nod while shooing her away. “Uh--” she starts.

“I know you probably don’t have much time,” Harry cuts in, and Mars can tell that his panic is rising the longer it takes for her to get out a full sentence. “And we don’t have to do this now. I just--”

Somewhere in the crowd, a flash goes off, indicating someone’s attempt to take a stealthy photo, and Mars cringes. Her entire face grows hot. “Yes,” she says. “Please. Let’s go”

Harry steps to the side, gesturing for Mars to lead the way, and she begins walking. Her ears are ringing, and even though there aren’t many people here, it feels as though almost every single pair of eyes in the entire state is on her. She doesn’t look back at Harry, but she can hear his steps behind her-- not too close, but not so far back that it feels like he’s not with her.

She needs to say something. She wants to say something. But she can’t risk people hearing.

They continue walking, Mars scanning the airport for an empty gate that's far enough away, and Harry’s voice comes from behind her.

“I wanted to come with you,” Harry explains, quickly. “I’ve booked the flight.” He swallows thickly, shaking his head. “I can’t live without you any longer, Mars. I can’t do it.”

Mars walks quicker, not because she wants to get away from Harry, but because she needs to jump into his arms immediately and kiss his sweet face, and if she does it now she’s worried it will end up on the cover of every magazine in the globe.

“I know you hate this,” Harry says, keeping . “I’m sorry. I know public declarations and displays of affection aren’t really your thing. They aren’t exactly second nature to me, either. And I know this is a less than ideal way for me to tell you this but I-- I couldn’t wait. I’m sorry.”

“Harry--” Mars reaches up to wipe at a rogue tear that rolls down her cheek, and Harry officially closes the gap between them, jogging until he’s right beside her. He doesn’t touch her, but it’s obvious he wants to, and his nerves flicker across his face.

“I didn’t mean to—“ he starts.

“It’s okay,” Mars says, without turning to him. “You didn’t.”

“If you don’t want to—“

“Harry, it’s okay.” She turns into the empty gate beside them, almost throwing Harry off.

“But Mars, I—“

Mars, finally unable to stop herself, cuts him off, whirling around to grab his face in her hands. She pulls him in, fastening their lips together in what feels like the most passionate kiss she’s ever experienced in her life.

Harry’s hands immediately hold her, one hand pulling her in by the small of her back and the other gripping the bottom of her head under her neatly secured bun. By his breathing, Mars can tell he’s relieved, and a tear of his own drips down his cheek and onto hers.

She licks into his mouth, holding his face as if she could lose him if she let go. Harry matches her energy, holding on to her as tightly as possible and kissing her so passionately that half of the time it’s just the corner of her mouth or her chin.

Mars pulls away after a few moments and breathlessly smiles up at her teary-eyed man. “I love you, too, Harry.”

The relief that washes over Harry’s face is so beautiful it makes Mars want to cry harder. “You do?” He asks, voice shaky.

Mars nods. “I do.”

“You do?”

Mars laughs again. “I do, Harry. So, so much.”

Harry hesitates for only a beat before tugging Mars into his arms. She sniffles and laughs, and Harry lets out the breath that’s been cramped in his chest for hours now. “Oh, I love you, Mars. I love you, I love you.”

Mars giggles, enjoying how it feels to be held like this again before speaking. “But, I--” She trails off, breath hitching.

“What?” Harry asks, pulling away. “You what?”

“I just… Harry, it’s…” Mars sighs, voice lowering. “Is it always going to be like this?”

“Like what?”

“You don’t deserve to be with someone who doesn’t get it. Who isn’t used to this. You need to be with someone who--”

“Just be with me,” Harry says, almost pleading. He takes her shoulders in his hands and looks deeply into her eyes. “Just Mars and Harry. Like we were in Cancun That night in your hotel room. At my house in London. Don’t pay anyone else any mind. Just be with me.”

Mars swallows around an enormous lump in her throat, her bottom lip quivering. “Are you sure?” Her voice is barely above a whisper, as if she’s daring to even be hopeful.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life, Mars.” He gives her a moment to absorb his words, and he doesn’t break eye contact with her. He wants her to understand, to really feel what he’s saying. She laughs in jubilant disbelief, reaching up to wipe a stray tear from her eye, and Harry truly has never been more sure of anything than what he’s about to say. He clears his throat.

“Listen to me. Life is far too short to let things pass you by. Moments, people, opportunities. But I’m someone who has a bad habit of letting his own pride get in the way.” He chuckles. “In fact, someone once told me I’m an arrogant son of a bitch who can’t admit when he’s sorry and… well, that holds true, I think.”

“No!” Mars tries. “No, you’re--”

“But I’m tired of being that way,” Harry continues. “And I’m tired of letting moments pass me by Mars. Because I am sorry. For everything. For all of it. And I should have told you every single day since the moment I knew it…” He takes a deep breath, and squeezes her hands for emphasis. “I love you.”

Mars lets out another teary laugh of disbelief and reaches up to wipe at her eyes as Harry continues. “I love you, Mars Tyler. With all that I am and all that I have, I love you.”

Mars shakes her head, laughing again and speaking just above a whisper. “I love you, too, Harry.”

Harry beams at her. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” She giggles, swinging their hands a bit, before slamming her lips back into his. It’s clumsy and they’re both crying and laughing into one another’s mouths, but it’s perfect. With a chuckle, he puts his hand on her lower back and guides her closer into him once again. “I love you,” he repeats against her mouth. “I love you.”

They stay like this for a few moments longer before Mars pulls away. With a giggle, she glances nervously around them. When she’s relieved at the sight of how empty the gate has remained, she clears her throat. “God, Harry,” she says, “You sure know how to make an entrance, don’t you?”

“I suppose I do,” Harry says, laughing. “I just… I had more than enough chances with you. And I blew them all. I’m so fucking stupid but I…” He shakes his head. “I figured a grand gesture would be the best way to go about this.”

“You could have come to me in the parking lot of a gas station,” Mars laughs. “You could have done literally anything and I would have folded.”

He smiles lightly, feeling like the weight of the entire world has been lifted from his shoulders. They stare giddily at one another, neither of them wanting to move from this movement. After another beat, Harry brushes the hair off of Mars’ face and speaks. “I don’t want to keep you from your job or anything,” he says, “So I’ll let you go board the plane… just know I’m not letting you go ever again. And when we get to… where are we going again?”

Mars snorts. “Dallas.”

“Dallas. When we get to Dallas I am going to spend every single second loving you the way you’ve deserved from the beginning.”

“And when we’re on this flight? In the air?”

“I’m going to spend every single second asleep,” Harry teases, pleased with himself when he gets a cackle from Mars that echoes softly through the quiet airport. “No, I’m going to spend it talking to you. If I can, that is.”

Mars smiles. “I’d really enjoy that.”

“It's a date,” Harry nods.

He envelopes her in his arms once again, her head resting perfectly against his neck. He presses a quick kiss on the top of her head, wishing to stay in this exact moment forever.

She finally speaks, breaking him from his thoughts. It’s a bit muffled against his coat, but he hears her just fine. “You know there’s no first class on this plane.”

Harry snorts, pulling out of the hug and shaking his head. “That doesn’t matter, Mars.”

“I’m just saying!” She raises her hands defensively, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “I hope you know that with me, you’re signing up for a lifetime of flying standby and probably ending up with shitty middle seats.”

She’s joking, of course. She knows he could buy an entire private aircraft for them if he wanted. But still, he laughs. “They could tie me to the wing of every plane you ever work on. Just as long as I get to be with you.”

She rolls her eyes and says nothing, but there’s a glowing, undeniable grin on her face as she shakes her head.

They say a rushed, half-hearted goodbye during which Mars giggles through several tears (and complains about Harry ruining the makeup she’d lazily put on in order to look decent at this hour) and Harry watches her walk away with every step. Although her back is turned to him, he knows she’s smiling just as hard as he is, and it’s a good feeling.

Even though he can feel eyes on him from the few people in this airport who are actually awake right now, he genuinely doesn’t care as much as he knows he probably should.

Mars is back. His sweet Mars.

---

During the entire boarding process, he scans the plane for Mars. He gets a brief glance of her in the back of the aircraft, helping an older woman with her bag, and he smiles to himself before taking his seat.

The gate agent had been kind enough to give Harry an entire row to himself-- despite Harry’s protests and insistence that it wasn’t necessary. After shoving his duffel under one of the seats in front of him, he pulls out his phone and shoots Mars a quick text. “I’m in 16D. An entire row to myself.”

He settles himself in the seat, tucking the things he might need (like his airpods, a good book, and his phone charger) into the seat back pocket in front of him, and tries every now and then to get a good look at Mars in her element. Unfortunately, the passengers boarding make it a bit hard for him.

Finally, however, he’s able to get a nice long look at her once the main boarding door is closed and Mars finds herself standing right in front of him, performing the safety demonstration.

She tries not to giggle the entire time, pretending not to notice the way he’s smirking at her and snapping photos of her in her demo life-vest. As she makes her way back to her galley after the demo, she leans into his row and says, quietly, “Sir, don’t bother the flight attendants.”

It’s another 40 minutes or so before Harry gets to see her again; this time they’re in the air and she’s pushing a beverage cart down the aisle. He watches her as she interacts with her passengers, effortlessly pouring drinks and making small talk.

She’s just so good at her job. The way she speaks makes it sound as though whoever is on the receiving end is the only passenger on the entire plane, but there is a casual and friendly tone to her voice that could put even the most anxious of flyers at ease. She almost always sounds just on the verge of a giggle, but not in a patronizing way-- more so in a comforting, friendly way.

And he fucking loves it.

Finally, it’s his turn. She remains her sweet, professional self, but for Harry it seems she turns it up several notches. She flashes him a flirty smile, batting her lashes at him as she leans into his row. “Can I get you something to drink, Mr. Styles?”

He smirks. “I’ll take a vodka soda, darling. If you don’t mind.”

Mars hums, setting to work immediately. “Interesting,” she says. “I thought you didn’t drink on flights.”

“I do when I’m celebrating.”

Mars’ shoots him a look as she scoops ice into the little plastic cup. “And what are you celebrating, if I may ask?”

“Love.” Harry doesn’t miss a beat in his response, and the two share a knowing grin before she turns back to the cup.

“I see.”

She hands Harry the cup of ice, placing the napkin on his tray table with expert precision before reaching into a drawer of her cart for a soda water. “I’m not supposed to do this,” she says, reaching back into the cart, “but I suppose if you’re celebrating you deserve two.” She hands him two vodka minis, and he smirks.

“Well,” he says. “Thank you. What a sweet girl you are.”

The way her eyes briefly light up does not go unnoticed.

Harry opens the can of soda and begins pouring, and she drops her professional act. “I hope the seat isn’t too uncomfy.”

He laughs. “Not at all.” He watches his soda bubble up and waits for it to settle. “It’s actually quite nice. I didn’t know your airline had such comfortable seats back here.”

She laughs. “Well. It isn’t quite first class, but it gets the job done, doesn’t it ? I’m just glad no one’s bothered you.”

Harry opens one of the minis and begins pouring it into the cup of soda. “You’re a peach.”

She sighs dreamily, and it makes Harry giddy. It feels good to make her feel good again.

There’s a moment of silence as Harry finishes pouring the first mini, but it isn’t awkward. Harry wishes she would stay by him forever.

“By the way,” he says, cutting the silence and stirring the vodka soda delicately, “Vincent sends his regards.”

Mars snorts out a laugh of disbelief. “What?”

Even Harry can’t help but to chuckle. “M-hm. Turns out he was working the flight here. Small world, eh?”

“What did he say?” Mars leans in closer, and Harry swears he can feel her embarrassment. “Oh my god, if he—“

“Nothing bad,” Harry answers nonchalantly, raising the cup to his lips. “He only mildly threatened me.”

As Harry takes a sip, Mars shakes her head. “Oh my god.”

Harry wants to tease Mars for longer, but he can’t keep up with the act. He laughs, setting the cup back down and making a brief mental note of the way Mars’ eyes fixate on his fingers for a good three seconds. “Joking,” he says. “Although we did talk about you.”

“And?” Mars raises her eyebrows slightly, as if daring to be hopeful that nothing bad was said.

“Nothing really,” Harry says, and despite his relaxed tone when he speaks, he does mean it. “Honestly, Mars. He just asked me where I was headed. He told me how he knew you, and then we discussed what a great person you are.”

Mars scowls. “I don’t believe you.”

Ignoring her words, Harry continues. “He told me that losing you would be the greatest mistake of my life. And I said “‘I know.’” He chuckles. “He also told me how stubborn you are. To which I also said ‘I know.’”

Mars looks away from Harry, seemingly too embarrassed to hold eye contact. “Oh my god,” she repeats.

“In any case,” Harry continues, picking the drink up once more, “he’s a great guy. And it worked out didn’t it? I made it here.”

Mars finally looks at Harry again, a smile threatening her lips. Harry smirks. “What?” He asks.

“I just can’t believe it,” Mars replies. “I mean, it’s insane.”

“Not really.” Harry shrugs. “A man is supposed to do anything for the woman he loves.”

Mars bites her bottom lip, as if doing so will suppress the enormous smile on her face. “You really love me, huh?”

Harry nods sincerely. “More than I can say.”

Harry’s cheeks quirk at the formality, and he hopes Mars doesn’t notice the deep gulp. He can’t help it, hearing her call him “Mr. Styles” does something to him.

“Actually,” he says, lowering his voice, “there is one thing.”

Mars blinks, not quite catching on. “Mm?”

“Although,” Harry says quietly, “Now that I think of it, I’m not certain this airline offers the type of services I’m looking for.”

Harry grins, eyes darting down Mars’ body very briefly. He reaches up to absentmindedly play at his bottom lip. “I’m not even sure I have to ask, given the way you’re looking at me.”

“I’m a very intuitive flight attendant, Mr. Styles.”

“So it would seem.”

After a beat of charged silence, Harry darts his eyes pointedly to the forward lavatory then back at Mars, wordlessly asking her the question he so desperately hopes she’ll say yes to.

She nods her head so softly, Harry would have missed it if he’d blinked. “I’ll be in the back galley, Mr. Styles. Come find me once I’ve finished service and we’ll see if I have what you’re looking for.”

The way she says it is very clear and pointed, and she ends with a nod of finality before unlatching the break on her cart and continuing down the aisle.

Holy shit.

Harry squirms in his seat, doing a terrible job of hiding the smirk on his face. He turns in his seat, eyes lingering briefly on Mars’ backside as she serves the row behind him, before scanning out just how far away that back lavatory is. He’s going to have to be discreet making his way back there, even though it’s really not even half a plane’s length. He prays that most people are asleep or otherwise engrossed in the films on their seatback TVs, because he really isn’t quite in the mood (or mental state, to be frank) to take photos and hold small conversations.

Not when Mars looks like that.

He turns back in his seat and absentmindedly tugs at his now tightening trousers. Taking another breath to steady himself he pretends to surf through the channels of his TV. He can’t just up and wait for her in the back, and besides, she still has the whole back half of the plane to get through.

He squirms uncomfortably as his pants grow tighter and tighter around his groin, and he has to force himself to wait a full 15 minutes before, finally, the soft rumble of a beverage cart being pushed back into its place up front alerts him that service has been completed.

He glances around him, and for the most part no one pays him any mind. He looks up at the non-illuminated seatbelt sign and decides now is as good a time as ever.

Unbuckling his seatbelt, he rises to his feet.

He stumbles just a bit when the plane jolts ever so slightly, and he reaches up to hold on to the overhead bins the same way he’d watched Mars do. Of course, she’d made it seem so much more effortless. But still.

It feels like the longest walk of his life, especially when he and Mars lock eyes. She can’t hide the grin on her face as she watches Harry make his way to her. He smiles when he approaches, closing the gap between them as quickly as possible without looking obvious.

“Well,” he says, “hello again.”

Mars giggles. “Hello.”

Harry subtly reaches forward to touch her arm, brushing his fingertips lightly against her wrist. “Feels familiar, doesn’t it?”

“I think we’ve done this before,” Mars says, nodding her head with a glimmer in her eye. “Although I’m not sure I have an apple to offer you this time, Mr. Styles.”

Harry snorts, stepping closer to her and further out of the eyes of passengers. “How will I manage?”

“Right. That nervous tummy of yours doesn’t like turbulence, so you don’t like to drink on flights. Except for today. When you’re celebrating love.”

Mars’ back presses against the galley counter and Harry smirks, closing in on her. “You remember everything, don’t you?”

Mars shrugs, giggling as Harry places his palms against the galley on either side of her. “I’m good at my job.”

“Mm.” Harry leans in, nuzzling against her neck. He takes in a deep breath, reveling in her scent. He loves that fucking scent. She shivers, subtly squirming when his stubble tickles her neck. He kisses just below her ear, and he can feel her gulp.

“We have to be careful,” she says-- so quietly Harry almost misses it.

“I know,” he mumbles, fingers grazing her hips. “You’ll tell me if anyone’s coming?”

“Harry,” she says quietly as his fingers dip lower, “wait.”

He glances over his shoulder immediately, expecting to see someone taking a photo of him or something. He sees nothing, but he soon feels Mars reach around him. She takes the curtain of the galley and slides it closed, a little too eagerly.

“Now we’re alone,” she says with a grin.

Harry hums, resuming where he left off with his fingers teasing at her hips and lowering themselves to the hem of her dress. “But you can still see, yeah?”

Mars cranes her neck a bit, then nods. “Yeah, I can see. I’ve got you.”

“Good.” His fingertips trail gently up her thigh, reveling in the way her skin feels warm beneath the fabric of her nylons. “God, I want you.”

Mars hums lightly, head falling back and hitting the bins of the galley lightly. “I can’t tell you how hard it’s been--” she sucks in a breath when his fingertips graze her center-- “without you.”

Harry doesn’t answer her verbally. He sucks into her neck, applying pressure with his fingers and beginning to rub little circles against her core. Whether she realizes it or not, she begins to rock her hips against him, and Harry tightens his grip on the galley behind her.

It’s difficult, doing what he’s doing through the layers of fabric she’s wearing, but neither of them seem to mind. Mars gasps quietly, then swallows wetly, humming quietly to herself and enjoying the way he’s touching her.

“You know,” she muses quietly, her voice a bit breathless. “I’ve always kind of had a fantasy about this.”

“Yeah?” Harry breathes, picking up the pace with his fingers.

“M-hm. Always-- fuck, Harry-- wanted to do this. In the galley—“ she trails off in a half-moan half-sigh before continuing, “the… the threat of being caught…”

“You like that do you?” Harry whispers quietly in her ear. He curls his fingers against her clit and she jolts, humming impatiently and continuing to rub herself against him.

“God,” she whines quietly. “Feels so good.”

“You make the prettiest noises when I touch you,” Harry comments. “Have I ever told you that?”

Mars swallows, eyes fluttering lazily open. “No one has ever touched me like you do,” she replies.

Harry smiles, leaning in and fastening their lips together once more. “I’m very sorry to hear that,” he says between kisses, “although I’m pleased to be the only one.”

“It may just be because you love me.”

Harry speaks against her lips. “I do love you.’

Through a giggle, Mars kisses him once more. “And I love you.”

Harry pulls away just enough to tilt his head in order to press a wet kiss to her pulse point. “One more time?” he teases, pulling a loud giggle from her lips. “Didn’t hear you.”

“Harry--”

“Plane’s too loud,” he mumbles against her neck, before pressing another kiss just below her ear. “Think you’re going to have to speak up for me.”

“Harry you’re so--” Mars trails off into a sigh that sounds strangely annoyed in contrast to the sweet giggles pouring from her lips seconds before. “Hold on.” She gently pushes Harry off of her, and he furrows his brows.

“What’s--”

“Passenger.” She’s peeking through the slit on the edge of the galley curtain, and it’s the only explanation she gives him, but he immediately understands. He steps away from her, turning his back to whoever is about to enter the galley in hopes he’ll go as undetected as possible.

Seconds later, someone slowly opens the curtain and enters the galley, and even though Harry’s back is turned he can feel what’s going on. The person stands there, unmoving, until Mars speaks up. “Can I get you anything?”

Her professional Flight Attendant voice makes him laugh quietly to himself; such a stark contrast to how she’d sounded seconds before.

“Uhh…” the person says, and it’s obvious that they’ve just woken up from a deep sleep. “Bathroom?”

“Bathroom’s gonna be right here!” He can’t see Mars, but he knows she’s gesturing with an open palm at the fold-out door leading to the bathroom. He almost wishes he was watching, because this specific type of interaction is one that he’s heard Mars complain about hundreds of times. “I just don’t understand,” she’d say, “What is so hard about pulling a door that literally says “PULL” in two different languages?”

Sure enough, seconds later her voice comes again. “Just pull… nope just… no, see the little slot there? Yeah just pull… no that door… yeah pull that…. No, see where it says pull?... there you go.”

Harry can’t even contain the snort that comes out of his mouth, and when he hears the bathroom door close after finally being opened, he turns around to face Mars.

She seems annoyed, but she’s still got her customer service face on. “See?” she giggles. “Every time.”

“Don’t know how you do it,” he says, his hand finding its way right back onto her hip. He pulls her closer into him. “Would’ve lost my job by now.”

Mars giggles louder, willingly leaning into Harry and allowing him to kiss her cheek. “You’d be a fantastic flight attendant, Harry.”

“You think so? Should I apply?”

She snorts. “Yeah, actually. I think we’re hiring.”

“Mm.” Harry pinches Mars’ side lightly. “Only if I can work all of my trips with you.”

“Then no work will ever get done.”

“Sure it would.” Harry lowers his head to kiss her neck.

Mars rolls her eyes, but she’s unable to hide the smirk on her face. “Harry…”

They stay like this for a few extra minutes until the loud sound of the lavatory toilet flushing startles them both. Harry steps away from Mars, giving her bum a playful and light pinch before turning away from her, and the passenger emerges from the bathroom seconds later.

“I figured out why you look so familiar,” comes the passengers' voice. Both Harry and Mars’ hearts sink immediately.

“Do I?” Mars asks, trying to keep her tone professional and light hearted as possible.

Even Harry turns around slowly to listen. The passenger nods his head in Harry’s direction, gesturing at him. “Yeah,” he says, “You’re the girl that’s dating him.”

Harry and Mars share a look of panic, although both do an excellent job to try and hide it. Mars laughs. “Well--”

“My sister hates your guts,” the passenger says with a laugh. “But you’re pretty cool.”

Mars laughs again, awkwardly. “Well…. I mean… I… sorry to your sister.”

Harry steps closer, a bit protectively, and he opens his mouth to say something, but the passenger speaks again.

“I’ll have to tell her that I ran into you guys! Can I get a picture?”

“If you don’t mind,” Harry cuts in, “I’d prefer you didn’t.”

The man frowns. “Oh. Seriously?”

“Yeah,” Harry replies. “Trying to keep a low profile and all that.”

“Oh.” The passenger takes a moment, and Harry feels horribly awkward. Mars is visibly tense, and Harry hates it. This is exactly the thing he wants to avoid, for Mars’ sake, and now here it is-- happening at her job. For fucks sake, maybe he shouldn’t have come here…

“Well that’s okay!” The man seems surprisingly chipper, and Harry glances at Mars, who seems to soften. “Totally understand. I didn’t mean to bother you guys or anything. I just wanted to say like, seeing you guys together is actually really sweet. You guys have an undeniable chemistry. I’ve never really been a fan--” he turns to Harry quickly, “--no offense dude. But like… you two together… I dunno. My sister’s devastated but, even in all the pictures she showed me, you can see that you guys are happy. You know what I mean? You seem like cool people.”

Harry smiles as politely as he can manage, wishing he could read Mars’ mind right now. “Thanks man.”

“Anyway,” the man turns back to Mars. “Can I get some pretzels?”

Mars can’t help but laugh at his sudden request-- so different from the conversation they’d just been having seconds before. “Yeah,” she says. “And just for how cool you’re being, I’ll give you two bags.”

The conversation between the three somewhat fizzles as Mars retrieves the passenger’s snacks for him, and Harry is in complete awe of her. He has to say, he’s relieved that she’s taken the passenger’s words so well, and he’s even more relieved that the guy seems cool about it all. Harry apologizes again for not taking a picture, but the man seems cool about that as well, which lifts a massive weight off of not only Harry’s shoulders but Mars’ too, no doubt.

Mars’ anxieties only seem to show themselves the second that the man is en route back to his seat and out of ear shot. She straightens the galley curtain behind him and lets out a long sigh, her customer service smile dropping so quickly it makes Harry chuckle to himself. He steps towards her, nudging her hand with his own. “Are you okay? Know that was kind of weird…”

“Um…” Mars takes in a slow, deep breath through her nose, then smiles at Harry. “Yeah. No, yeah I’m… that was fine.”

Harry links his pinky subtly with Mars’. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. Like… it’s inevitable. I know that. And it sucks but it's…” She takes his hand in hers and gives it a reassuring squeeze. “It doesn’t matter. None of it matters, as long as I have you.”

“Gonna do my very best to protect you,” Harry says earnestly. “I mean it. Gonna do everything I can to--”

“We’re a team, Harry” she says. “It’s you and me. That’s it. That’s all I care about at the end of the day.”

Harry smirks down at her, hesitating for a moment. He glances over his shoulder out at the plane of mostly sleeping passengers before taking Mars hips in his hands and yanking her harshly towards him. She squeals, stumbling into his arms, and he kisses all over her face. “I love you,” he says against her cheek. “I fucking--” against her ear -- “Love you. So--” her chin “-- fucking--” her nose “--much.”

She giggles against his kisses, fingertips lazily trailing along his sides and his back. She manages to keep a constant watchful eye on her passengers at all times, even when the kisses become more and more heated. Harry’s hands hold their tight grip on her hips and he angles them slightly, until her back is pressed against the galley countertop. She opens her mouth to allow him to lick his way inside, and she grins when his fingertips tickle lightly at the hem of her dress.

“Gotta be careful,” she warns again, softly. One arm reaches behind her to steady herself against the counter, while the other wraps around Harry’s neck. Angling his body so that he’s fully out of sight of the passengers, he ducks his head down to kiss along her neck.

“S’why you’re gonna keep an eye out, isn’t it?” He gives her thigh a soft pinch. “God, I wish we had more room on this counter.”

Mars snorts. “Well, these galleys weren’t exactly made for fucking.”

Harry pulls away smugly, raising his eyebrow slightly. “Oh, you want me to fuck you?”

“I mean it seems only fair, does it not?” She grins, leaning back and running a hand through his hair. “Have you ever joined the mile high club?”

Harry smirks. It’s a fair question, of course, but he can’t even begin to count how many times he’s “joined the mile high club.” She senses his thoughts, because she averts her gaze and immediately backpedals. “That’s probably a dumb question,” she mutters. “Sorry. I just--”

“Of course it’s not,” he says. “Don’t apologize.” He clears his throat. “Yeah, I have. But I don’t know if it counts.”

Confused, she blinks up at him. “Why would it not--”

“Because it wasn’t with you. My very own little flight attendant.”

Mars shakes her head, clearly growing flustered under his gaze. She giggles. “But surely you’ve been with another--”

Harry kisses her mid-sentence, stopping her in her tracks before her mind can run wild. She is the only person on his mind, the only one he ever wants for the rest of his life.

The kiss grows naturally heated, as expected, and Mars’ back bumps against the galley counter again. Harry reaches up to hold the back of her neck, careful not to mess up her perfectly styled hair, and he smiles against her mouth. She lets out the tiniest hint of a sigh that, if Harry wasn’t listening, he would have completely missed.

Mars reaches her hands around his hips, pulling him impossibly closer into her and angling herself subtly so that his knee is gently propped between her legs.

“Darling,” he says, grinding gently against her and lowering his hand. “Shall we go somewhere more private?” Mars subtly arches into him, kissing his neck, and his voice shakes when he speaks again. “I don’t want to--”

“Let’s go.” She pulls away, her eyes glazed and hungry. “Please. I know the lav isn’t that big but--”

Harry smirks. “Lead the way.”

Mars peaks behind the curtain one last time to ensure no one is coming, then double checks both lavatories. When she’s certain no one is coming, she opens one and slips cautiously inside. Harry follows close behind her, struggling to squeeze into the tiny room the moment he takes a step. He reaches behind him to help Mars close the door, and she fumbles around him to try and reach the latch. She finally catches hold of it, slides it all the way to the right, the lavatory light brightens just a smidge--

And they are truly, truly alone.

Mars shifts awkwardly. “I know its tight quarters,” she says, “But if we--”

Harry doesn’t give her a chance to finish her sentence before he’s right back on her. He presses his mouth to hers, pushing her gently against the sink. There’s an awkward shuffle-- god, it really is tight quarters-- but he’s hardly thinking of that as Mars angles her body to his.

The sound of elbows and knees hitting walls can be heard over the wet, kissing noises, but neither seem to care. Mars half sits-- as best she can-- on the counter and spreads her legs for Harry to stand between them. His hands slip beneath her skirt, and he can already feel her heat before his fingertips even touch her core. The nylons she’s wearing add to the sensation-- clearly-- because her head arches back the minute he touches her. He takes the opportunity to press an open mouthed kiss to her neck. Even through the added layers of both her nylons and her panties, he can feel her dampness. He smirks.

Mars jolts, kicking her still high-heel clad foot against the wall and startling them both. She gives him a sheepish look and giggles. “Oops.”

Harry pulls her closer so he can get a better grip on her before hooking his fingers into the waistband of her nylons.

“Let’s get these off,” he says quietly, lips pressed against her throat.

Mars shuffles a bit, reaching down to help him pry them off. She kicks her heels haphazardly off and giggles when she accidentally elbows the mirror behind her. “This is insane,” she mutters, more to herself than to him.

The minute her nylons are off, Harry shoves them in his back pocket. He goes right back to kissing her, but is distracted when he notices she’s stepping right back into her discarded heels. Puzzled, Harry pulls away briefly, and it takes Mars a few seconds to notice-- obviously too busy with her heels. When she finally does look at him, she furrows her brows.

“What?” she asks. “You don’t think I’m gonna stand barefoot in a lav do you?” Harry snorts, but she continues. “You don’t even know half the shit I’ve seen in these things, Harry. And I mean literal shit. Among other things. Lavs are gross. I can’t even believe--”

Harry’s lips are on hers once again, before she can finish the rest of her sentence. “I love you,” he says, “stop talking about shit.”

They continue kissing, Harry pressing himself as closely to her as he can possibly manage. His fingers graze the dampness between her legs, rubbing circles that have her shuddering and sighing into his mouth and her nails digging into his shoulders. She’s grasping desperately at the small surface area of the sink, trying to give herself some leverage, as Harry pushes further against her.

“We don’t—“ she gasps as Harry’s fingers dip into the waistband of her panties. “We don’t have much time.”

“I know,” Harry mutters against her lips, gulping when his fingertips come in direct contact with her wetness. His other hand wraps loosely around the side of her throat before he curls his fingers around her neck scarf. “Fuck, you’re wet.”

“Fuck me.” Her voice is just above a whisper, and she licks her already damp lips, which ghost against Harry’s. “Please. Please fuck me.”

Her fingers fumble with his trousers, and he lets go of her neck— reaching down to help her remove his pants. He accidentally elbows the wall for what seems like the hundredth time, but neither of them have time to acknowledge it. Mars jolts, gasping loudly when Harry bites at her neck. “Careful,” she says, “I’m—“

Harry tugs at her scarf, bringing her lips to his own and pressing a hot, sloppy, open mouthed kiss. He licks into her mouth, his nose pushing against hers.

Mars reaches down to grasp at Harry’s dick and his breath hitches in his throat, lips curling into a half-snarl as he tries to keep his balance. He steps closer to her. “I haven’t—“ he breathes, gulping mid sentence when she presses his tip to her entrance. “I haven’t got a condom.”

“We’ll be careful,” she says, but then pulls away with dreamy, half-lidded eyes and an amused smirk. “You didn’t bring any condoms?”

Harry laughs. “I did,” he says. “They’re in my bag. Under the seat. I wasn’t exactly planning for—“ he gestures with his hands and Mars giggles.

“I see,” she says. She pulls him closer by his jacket, kissing tenderly at his chin and up to the corner of his mouth. She runs her hand up through his hair, lightly removing the cap from his head and scratching at his wild curls with her free hand. “It’s okay. We’ll just--” she gasps when he unintentionally brushes her clit, “We’ll be careful.”

They stay like this, kissing and fumbling in the incredibly tight space. She takes his dick between her pretty, polished fingers and he shudders when she gives it a squeeze and a few light yanks. He gulps, letting his mouth hang fully ajar and hanging his head lazily against hers.

“Fuck,” he mutters. “Fucking hell.”

“Want to suck your dick,” Mars mumbles. “Want it in my mouth so bad.”

“No room,” Harry stammers out, eyes rolling back as his head lolls backwards towards the wall. “Fucking hell, Mars.”

“I know,” she says, picking up the pace with which she tugs and swiping at the precum collecting on his tip. “Just wishing I could.”

“I wish you could, too,” he says with a chuckle. “God, baby, when we get to that hotel--”

Mars presses her lips to his again, effectively shutting him up and smirking ever so slightly when he groans into her mouth. She gives him a squeeze and gently teases the tip of him against her entrance.

“Gotta be quick,” she reminds him, although they both seem to hate that little fact.

Harry puts one hand on the mirror behind Mars’ head, then wraps his other arm around her lower back for support. He leans closer to her and pushes himself slowly inside of her. They both gasp, adjusting to the sudden difference, and although Harry selfishly wants to get right into it, he knows he needs to give Mars a moment.

“Are you okay?” He breathes.

Mars, who’s face isn’t visible to Harry, nods. “M-hm.” Then, she sighs melting against him. “Fucking missed this.”

Harry lets out the breath he’s only just now realized he’s been holding, and gulps. He makes eye contact with himself in the mirror, and he’s overcome with a weird feeling of shame and arousal. He notes pathetic desperation in his own eyes that he hadn’t noticed before, and he has to look away from himself before he starts thinking too hard about how he looks during sex. “Missed it, too,” he mumbles.

Mars sinks her nails into his back, pulling him closer. She bites into his shoulder and he grunts, subconsciously jolting at the sharp sensation. “Fuck, Mars.”

She jolts when his thumb brushes against her clit again, and she rests her forehead on his shoulder. She half-heartedly rolls her hips, and Harry can’t help it… he makes eye contact with himself once again in the mirror. He notices the way her hair has begun to fall out of the bun she has it in, and it’s the sexiest thing he’s ever seen.. The arm he has around her tightens its grip, and she jolts again when he unintentionally squeezes at her side.

“I love you,” Mars says, voice whiny— as if she’s on the verge of tears. Harry gulps, because fuck— if she’s crying he’s definitely done for. He sloppily brings his hand up her back, before hooking his fingers into her scarf again and giving her a gentle tug.

She lifts her head and he turns his immediately, open mouth kissing over her cheeks and halfway on her lips before pulling away to once again marvel at the reflection in the mirror. The way her body moves with his every thrust. The way she’s leaning into him and loving on him as best she can in their small space.

“I’m so—“ she starts, mouth opening more as he kisses her. She lets out a loud breath that teeters on a moan, and she has to suck in a gasping breath. “I’m close.”

Harry can’t even muster up the energy to say anything back, he just gulps and picks up the pace. He revels in the way her breath is hot against his neck, and he only halfway notices the gentle banging of her feet against the cabinet below the sink.

His orgasm comes quicker than he’d been anticipating, but it starts low and slow at the base of his belly. He lets out a groan much louder than intended, and he has to inhale sharply through his teeth. “Fuck,” he says, as quietly as he can muster. “Fuck. Fuck.”

His thrusting slows ever so slightly as he cums, and Mars lets out a little hum as she digs her nails further into his back. “Come on baby,” she whines, so desperately it sounds like she’s about to cry. “That’s it, fuck!”

It’s unclear who is saying what as they both curse against one another’s mouths and necks and shoulders. And although Harry’s pace has slowed to an almost full stop, his fingers waste no time finding their way to Mars’ clit. He runs in a few circles, quick and in the exact way he knows she likes, and she gasps.

“Yes,” she says, louder than intended, and she has to bite into his shoulder again to keep quiet. He picks up the pace with his fingers despite the small ounce of energy he has left, and he’s almost startled when her orgasm comes.

It comes with a jolt, and her head is thrown back against the mirror. She groans, taking her bottom lip between her teeth and squeezing her eyes shut. It’s taking everything in her to be quiet, and Harry is loving it.

“That’s it,” he mumbles softly. “That’s my fucking girl.”

Her fingers involuntarily clench and unclench around his hair, and when he once again catches sight of himself in the mirror he’s almost shocked at how disheveled and filthy he looks right now. His knees nearly buckle when he sees, from the corner of his eye, Mars’ eyes rolling practically to the back of her head. He’s about to ask if she’s okay, but she’s still mid orgasm. And when her eyes open again, he can see she is more than fine.

She sloppily searches for his mouth with her own, and lets out a sigh of relief when she finds it. Her legs shake and her walls flutter around him-- slowly coming to a stop. Her body gradually goes limp against him, and they’re so close to one another that he can feel her heart pounding in her chest as she tries to catch her breath.

Harry’s hand makes its way up her back to cup the back of her head, scratching gently at her scalp as they both try to come down. Her walls flutter residually around her and he swallows before finally mustering up the strength to ask her, with a raspy voice, “Are you okay?”

Mars doesn’t answer at first, she just sighs again. Then, he feels her move slowly, pulling her head back as far as she can to look at him without banging it against the mirror. She’s smiling, eyes red and cheeks flushed. Her hair is a mess, and she’s never looked more beautiful. “I’m okay,” she says, voice hardly above a whisper. She drapes his cap lazily back on top of his head. “Are you okay?”

Harry chuckles, reaching up to brush some of her hair off of her face. “Yeah, I’m okay.” There’s a brief but comfortable silence, then he speaks again. “You should see yourself right now.”

She giggles, coming back to her normal self. “I’m glad I can’t,” she says softly. She pulls back further, scratching affectionately at the back of Harry’s head. For a while, they just sit there, smiling at one another. No words are spoken, but no words are necessary. They just admire one another’s faces, speaking without words.

The plane hits a slight bump, causing Mars to fall forward a bit onto Harry. He stumbles slightly, catching himself, and they both laugh as the seatbelt sign comes on with a ding.

They watch as the symbol of the stickman walking to his seat illuminates on the wall, then Mars clears her throat. “You should probably return to your seat, Mr. Styles. The seatbelt sign is on.”

Harry laughs, slowly pulling himself out of her and trying not to pay much attention to how good it feels. “That it is,” he says. He clears his throat, awkwardly shuffling to tuck himself back into his boxers and pull his pants back up. “Well I do hope you’ll return to my seat again soon, miss. I believe I need a refill.”

Mars laughs, a playfulness behind her eyes. Once Harry is zipped back into his trousers, he bends as best he can to help Mars back into her nylons. Sliding them slowly up her leg, he never breaks eye contact. His lips quirk up into a smirk. “You know how easily I could rip these again?”

Her eyes widen. “No! Don’t! They’re—“

Harry puts up a hand to stop her, a twinkle in his eyes. “I wouldn’t!” He says. “Just remembering.”

Mars hesitates, then softens when she decides to fully trust him. She jumps off the counter and pulls her nylons completely up, adjusting her skirt awkwardly with what little room she has. Harry tries his best to move around her; a task made difficult with the slight rocking of the plane.

“Okay,” Mars says, smoothing her hair in the mirror and readjusting a few bobby pins. “I’ll go out first and see if there’s anyone out there. There shouldn’t be but.. you know. If there is, I’ll say someone in here was sick and needed my help. Do I look okay? How’s my hair?”

Harry’s lip quirk up and he opens his mouth to speak, but Mars cuts him off. “Don’t answer that. I can’t handle another cheeky remark from you.”

Harry snorts. “Alright.” He gestures at the door. “After you.”

Mars lingers for a moment, just watching him, then shakes her head. “God, I love you,” she says, more to herself than to him. She gives herself one last quick look in the mirror, then takes a deep breath. “Okay.”

With careful hands, she unlocks the lavatory door, causing the lights to dim ever so slightly. She steps in front of Harry, as if her whole frame can block him from view, and slowly begins to open the door. Subconsciously, she leans into Harry as she moves, and he has to fully stop himself from taking her hips in his hands and yanking her back into him.

They both peek out at the same time, and are relieved to see that there is no one waiting outside of the bathroom for them. They both let out a quiet breath, and Mars sneaks out the door before Harry can even react.

In the silence that follows after Mars closes the bathroom door behind her, Harry lets out a sigh that turns into a chuckle. He looks at himself in the mirror, and he cannot believe what he’s just done.

Of course it wasn’t the first time he’d had sex on a plane. But damn if it wasn’t the best.

He reaches up to run a hand through his tousled hair, trying his best to fix it, and straightens out his cap. Though the lavatory still feels tiny, it’s remarkable how much of a difference he feels now being the only one in the room. He takes a deep breath, enjoying the way his entire body feels a bit cramped and sweaty.

After a few more moments that feel like hours, he presses his ear up to the bi-fold door of the lavatory. When it doesn’t sound like anyone is speaking on the other side, he decides the coast is clear and exits.

The air in the galley is much cooler than in the cramped bathroom, and subconsciously Harry takes a deep breath. There’s Mars, standing at the galley and restocking soda’s into a galley cart. She looks unphased, and beautiful as ever. It’s almost laughable to think what she and Harry just did.

Mars glances at him, a smile playing on her lips. “Can I get you anything, Mr. Styles?”

“I’m all set,” Harry says. “Thank you.”

They linger once again for just a split second, and Harry has to physically pull himself away with a laugh and a mutter of “shit” under his breath. As he walks away, he hears Mars giggle behind him.

He cannot wait to get her alone tonight.

——

Mars feels giddy when she hears a knock at her hotel room door. For security reasons, Harry hadn’t been allowed to share the crew van with her and her fellow flight attendants, and he’d sworn it was fine. He said he had errands to run anyway, and although Mars knew that was nonsense, she let it happen. They’d said a hurried goodbye, and Mars sent Harry off with a promise to send him her hotel information and room number as soon as she had it.

The wait had felt like ages, but now that he’s here, the anticipation is forgotten.

With one last glance in the mirror she giggles to herself and scurries over to the door. She peeks through the peephole, smiling when she sees Harry on the other side..

“Who iiiiiis it?” She sings.

“Special delivery,” Harry responds.

Mars giggles, flinging the door open and practically falling into Harry. He wraps his arms around her, kissing the top of her head and scratching affectionately at her back.

“Hi,” Mars says, muffled against Harry’s arm.

Harry takes a gentle step into the hotel room, careful to take Mars with him and not trip her. “Hello,” he says, pressing another kiss to the top of her head. The door closes behind them with a little help from Harry’s foot. “Long time no see.”

“Mm.” Mars looks up at him, her chin resting on his chest, before pursing her lips.

Harry chuckles, leaning down to comply with her silent request for a kiss and continuing to push them further into the room. “You look so good.”

Mars had tried her best with what she’d had in her suitcase. While she’d opted to leave her fanciest lingerie in her drawer at the crashpad, she had packed a nice lacy thong and bra for this trip in case any opportunities arose. She wears them now under a long tshirt that grazes her thighs.

Mars laughs, separating her lips from his. The back of her legs hit the bed. “Sorry I didn’t pack anything better.”

“What are you talking about?” Harry picks at Mars’ tshirt sleeve. “This is fantastic.”

“Mm.” Mars says nothing, kissing him again then squealing when he pushes her down on the bed.

He drops down to his hands and knees, crawling up a very giggly Mars’ body. He stops every now and then, dropping to press kisses against her skin. When he reaches her neck, he lingers, and she sighs, tilting her head to grant him easier access.

Her fingers find their way into his hair, and she scratches affectionately at his scalp. “I love you,” she says, hardly audible.

Harry lifts his head and smiles. “What?”

“I said I love you. I wasn’t sure if I would ever get the chance to see you again.”

“That’s silly.” Harry leans down and presses a kiss to her nose.

“But I was so… I mean when we…” She trails off in a sigh. “I was so mean to you.”

“Well I wasn’t exactly an angel to you either,” Harry chuckles, lazily drawing a circle on the spot where her tummy meets her hip and smirking when she quivers a little. “And I will spend every single day of my life making it up to you.” He leans down and kisses her cheek. “I promise.”

“You don’t have to,” Mars says. “Harry, I am so sor—“

“Mars.” There’s a bit of a more serious edge to his tone, although he stays smiling. “It happened. It’s over. I love you. That’s it.”

“But—“

“I love you,” Harry repeats. “That’s it.”

Mars hesitates, then closes her mouth with a giggle. Before she can even think about speaking again, Harry’s kissing her, soft and gentle. There is intention behind his kiss, but it isn’t charged. It’s sweet, and it’s a way to communicate with no words. Mars smiles, opens her mouth to grant him access, and communicates, as best she can, the feelings swimming around in her heart.

And as they kiss, what she wants to say is “you’re my soulmate. I don’t think I’ve ever known anyone as special as you. I don’t think I ever will. You’ve transformed my life in ways I didn’t know were possible. I didn’t know I was capable of being so happy in this lifetime, and I will try every second of every day to show you the same love you have shown me.”

But what she says is, “I love you.”

And when Harry smiles, his hand raising to lovingly cup her cheek, she knows he understands exactly what she means.

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