#worst thing ive ever written

[octopus-defence-squad]

In my spanish class, we had to write a short paragraph describing a celebrity. I immediately forgot any celebrity I have ever heard of once that was announced, of course, so I ended up writing about Jonny Sims (featuring some creative interpretations of facts bc i couldnt be bothered to check and didnt know off the top of my head).

HOWEVER, while i was initially debating who to do, the people sitting near me suggested writing about a musician I liked. i laughed, bc the only thought i had was the mechs.

blame them for this:

Él es Jonny D’Ville. Es britanico o de Nueva Texas. Es cantante y pirata del espacio con su banda/amigos. Es imposible morirse. Es un criminal y es muy antipático. Él es mi gatito mojado. Me gusta mucho.

[eeveekitti]

she JUDGEMENT on my DIE till i PREPARE THYSELF

[siennamain]

what galfrey doesn't get is that eliana does 40 kegels 5 times a day. never misses them. sometimes she's bored during battles and doubles it.

that's the secret to win the crusade

[celestial-letters]

HEY CHAT. the silly (it was mammon. we all knew it was going to be mammon) won the poll so i am now legally obligated to write smth for our first man. hope u guys like it 🫶 also. i dont. have. yellow on mobile. so we have to. deal with it. and. use orange instead. #sad

mammon relationship hcs

OH THIS FUCKING GUY.

Loser.

Will do stupid shit to impress you.

"Hey, watch me carry this comically large box!"

"Mammon, I don't think that's a good idea."

"Don't be ridiculous! Look!" *dies*

You mention it's kind of cold? He will immediately take off his jacket and have you wear it. His brothers will not hear the end of it.

"Hey, guys! Guess who wore my jacket? That's right, it was-"

"Mammon, nobody cares."

After a lecture from Lucifer, Mammon will look for you in search of comfort (and cuddles)

He'll bury his face in your shoulder and complain while you rub circles on his back

He loves affection, but he gets embarrassed easily

Super clingy once he's comfortable in your relationship, but don't be fooled, he gets flustered all the time.

He's amazing at giving gifts. He knows exactly what you want without fail. Mammon just knows you best.

He's also surprisingly good at knowing where you are??? Like, Lucifer will ask him where you are and he'll respond with "I dunno, try the cat cafè." And you're there??? You didn't even tell him where you were going, he just guessed.

So annoying about you. He won't shut up about you, but he can't help himself!! He just loves you so much and everything about you is so perfect that the list would be over 30 pages long! Don't tell him I said that-

He may not be the Avatar of Envy, but he tends to get jealous easy.

You're hanging out with his brothers a little too much for his liking? That's it, you're legally obligated to spend the day with him now.

Physically cannot be more than 30 feet away from you or else he will implode.

So, so many movie marathons. At least once a week.

He tends to fall asleep easily though, so they usually never get finished.

Wakes you up in the middle of the night for the dumbest reasons and pokes you until he's sure you're awake.

"Hey. Hey hey hey hey hey hey-"

"...What..?"

"Ya hungry?"

He would never admit this, but he likes making you laugh. He just finds the way you scrunch up your face so adorable. And your laugh too. He loves your laugh. He could never get tired of it, even if he wanted to.

It is genuinely so difficult to get this guy to say "I love you" because he recharges his courage to actually say it every 6 weeks because he thinks it's SO embarrassing.

Just because he doesn't say it a lot doesn't mean he doesn't. Mammon just finds it difficult to say. So remember that he loves you, will you?

[erasinglines]

clad in what he'd consider the nicest shirt he owns (at the very least, one without any creases and blemishes), miller can still feel the tension pumping through his frame, coursing from the very top to the bottom as he stands there in the aftermath of meeting, or being catechized, by devon's parents. although he's had no experience with it before, and therefore has nothing to compare it to, something tells him that this wasn't exactly how these sorts of things were meant to go. a breath loosens from his chest, one he hadn't even been conscious he'd been holding throughout the interaction, once they're out of frame, turning to face devon, gaze scouring her own cautiously. one look at her, however, has a wave of tranquillity washing over him, combatting the commotion. he manages a soft smile; corners of his lips curled upright in a small motion as if to say it was alright, that he'd come prepared for this, knowing what was probably wracking her own thoughts right now. it's because of that, despite feeling like he's failed her somehow already, that he chooses to look on the bright side, low chuckle departing his lips as if it'll conceal his sudden unrest. " hey, that could've gone a lot worse, hm? " in fact, he'd almost expected it to, so being able to reach for her now, knuckles brushing softly against the back of her hand, intends to show her again that it was okay. maybe he wasn't entirely unscathed, but had made it out alive, at least. " think you really oversold it, actually— i was expecting a bloodbath. " he teases. / @bluestsdays

[didhewinkback]

Something Old: Part Three

word count: 13k (jesus); story page

warnings: smut, google translate italian

-----

Fingertips dragged up and down your spine as you were slowly roused from sleep. You blinked your eyes open, momentarily disoriented by the darkness of the unfamiliar bedroom until a tattooed arm wound around your waist, squeezing tight.

So it wasn’t a dream. You really were here, in Italy, with your best mate who feels the same way you do. You think. He hadn’t exactly said the same three words you said, but you really couldn’t be nitpicky when he did in fact call off his wedding for you. And spent all day kissing you like his life depended on it. And was now holding you, in his bed, so tight against his chest, planting kisses along your neck.

“Sorry for waking you up,” he said, mouth dragging against the skin of your neck, “Got bored.”

He plants his hand on your hip and squeezes, guiding you to turn over and face him. And his shirtless body. He was definitely wearing a shirt when you fell asleep.

He smirks when he notices you ogling him, puffy eyes crinkling at the corners. “Hi.”

“Hi,” you say, burrowing your head a bit deeper into the pillows as you rest your fingertips against his chest.

His naked chest.

You can’t quite explain the breakdown of the boundaries between you. Why it’s happening so quickly, why it feels so natural. You’ve never touched him like this, never had the freedom to do so, and yet you don’t want to stop or question it as you splay your palm against his pecs, reveling in his sharp inhale. You’re at war with yourself, simultaneously desperate to apply logic to this, to stop and think it through, talk it out while also desperate to just lean in to what feels good and enjoy it, this magic between the two of you that you’ve dreamt of for most of your life.

“You always think this hard when you just wake up?”

You huff a laugh, shaking your head as you rub your thumb back and forth on his chest, his head dipping down to track the movement, “What happened to your shirt?”

“Got hot.” he shrugs, hand tightening on your hip.

“Mmmm. I’ll say.”

He snorts, wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you flush against him, leaning his head in to rest against your neck, breathing in.

“What time is it?”, you ask.

“Bout half past 8.”

“We are fucked if we try to get any sleep tonight,” you groan.

“I dunno, love,” he says, planting a line of kisses up to your cheek, lips dragging against the skin as he says, “Can think of a couple of things that would tire us out.”

“Oh, great,” you say, breath hitching as he continues to kiss a line across your jaw, your nails scratching on his chest, “I always dreamt that our first time would put me right to sleep.”

He hums against your skin. “So you’ve dreamt about our first time?”

“No comment.” you say, a bit breathlessly as he huffs a laugh, littering soft kisses along your throat before pulling away.

He smiles at you, his eyes puffy from sleep as his hand falls to your cheek, brushing your hair away from your face.

“Realized I never fed you,” he says softly.

“Shit host.”

He laughs, his eyes crinkling as his fingers find their place along the back of your neck, squeezing gently. “One of my favorite places in town is still open this time of year. It’s about a fifteen minute walk if you want to go grab some dinner.”

“Are you asking me out on a date?” you say teasingly, breath catching in your throat when he doesn’t take the bait. Instead he just stares at you, lips slightly quirking up as he brushes his thumb along your cheek.

“Yeah,” he says, hand falling to where your hand rests on his chest, turning it over so you're are palm to palm. He squeezes once before bringing your hand to his lips, murmuring against it, “Will you go on a date with me?”

You squeeze his hand, his smile growing when your own grin matches his.

“Never thought I’d ever hear you ask me that,” you say softly, not trusting your voice at a louder volume, feeling overwhelmed by his words and warm gaze.

He squeezes your hand, taking a deep breath,“I never thought I'd ever get the courage to ask.”

“Harry,” your voice comes out as a whisper.

“I know, I know.” he says, leaning in. “C’mere.”

He presses his lips to yours, sucking lightly at your lower lip before pulling back, resting his forehead against yours.

“‘S that a yes?” he asks.

“Yes. Please.” He cuts you off with a kiss before you can even get the words out, pressing his lips to yours over and over, bringing his hand back up to rest at the back of your neck.

“Thank you,” he says, pulling back to whisper against your lips, “for saying yes.”

He’s looking at you so intently, with such reverence in his eyes that you have a feeling he’s not just thanking you for agreeing to dinner but for this trip, for all of it. You squeeze his hand.

“Thank you,” you whisper back, “for asking.”

His eyes study your features for a moment, hand squeezing your hand once more. He’s about to say something, his eyes clouding over before seemingly deciding against it, inhaling sharply as he shakes his head slightly and presses his lips to yours once more. He swipes his tongue along the seam of your lips, fingers tightening on your neck when you open your mouth, moaning when his tongue brushes across yours.

Heat flares through your body, you can’t stop to think about what he was about to say, too busy being distracted by how hard he is kissing you, every swipe of tongue full of intent, his hands pulling you impossibly closer.

Your hand falls back to his chest, sliding down towards his abs. You splay your palm on the butterfly tattoo, nails digging in when he groans. You can barely catch your breath as he overwhelms all of your senses at once. His taste, his touch, his smell. He’s everywhere. You’ve never needed anyone this badly in your life.

His hand slides down your body, pausing at your hip as he squeezes once and guides you towards him, shifting on the bed to lay back down and pull you on top of him. Yes, yes -

The sound of your stomach growling stops you both in your tracks. It’s honestly the loudest and longest growl your stomach has ever made in its life. It’s astonishing. It’s humiliating.

Oh god.

Harry laughs into your mouth before you pull away and instantly hide your head in your hands. You move to roll off of him but his arms come to wrap around you, holding you in place.

“Oh my god,” you groan, feeling him shake with laughter, “I’m sorry.”

“That was loud.”

“Shut up,” you say, giggling as you swat at him. “Haven’t eaten since like lunch yesterday. Was a bit busy.”

You tensed the seconds the words left your mouth, your attempt at a joke falling flat as the reminder of the real world sunk in. Yes, you were here, wrapped up in his arms in Italy. But somewhere else, was Erin. Dealing with the repercussions of a canceled wedding, having to explain to her family what happened, her dream weekend in shambles. All because of you.

“Hey. “ he said softly, snapping you back to reality. You looked down at him, his brow creased in concern.

“Sorry. I -” you exhaled through your lips, “Sorry.”

“Got nothing to be sorry for.”

“I didn’t mean to bring up or like … we haven’t really talked about -”

“I know.” He said, his hand coming up to brush your hair from your face. “I know I said I’d rather wait a bit before talking about it all but if you’d like to talk now, we can.”

You took a second to look at him underneath you. The way he was staring at you so openly, his hand still holding your face, thumb brushing across your cheekbone. This is what you want. It’s what you’ve always wanted. Does it make you an asshole to ignore the reality of the situation for a bit longer? Maybe. But you were hungry and groggy and wouldn’t be able to have a productive conversation right now anyway.

You shook your head slightly, leaning down over him until you were chest to chest, your arms bracketing his head as you take him in for a moment. His swollen lips, darkened eyes, the light flush of his cheeks.

“Not yet. I do want to talk but I’m really hungry,” you say, your hand coming up to play with the strands of hair at the top of his head, “And this really cute boy I’ve liked for ages just asked me on a date. So I’d like to do that first.”

He blinks up at you a few times before a grin splits his face open, your heart fluttering as you take in his expression.

“Let’s go eat, then.”

“Okay.”

You move to roll off of him but his arms tighten around you, still smiling at you when you look up at him in confusion.

“Give me a kiss first.”

You roll your eyes, grinning back at him before pressing your lips to his. It’s a bit awkward, teeth clacking at first as you can’t stop smiling to kiss each other, giggling as he presses his lips to your cheek, jawline, temple.

“If we don’t leave now,” you say as he drags his lips across your skin, “we will never leave this bed.”

“Won’t see me complaining.” he says as as he kisses your cheek, your nose, your temple. “Quite like you like this. On top of me.”

Heat sears through you, unable to formulate a witty response or any response for that matter, suddenly hyper focused on all the areas where your body is in contact with his bare skin. You can’t hold back the sound that escapes you as he kisses the spot right below your ear, sucking lightly on the skin.

“But you’re right.” he says, pulling back. “We should go. Can’t have your stomach screaming at me again.”

“You’re such a little shit!” you squawk. He barely dodges your arm swatting at him, bringing him arms up to protect his face.

“Not my fault your stomach could break a decibel barrier or summat.” he says, giggling.

“Decibel barrier,” you repeat, in a poor imitation of his deep voice, “Big vocabulary. Where’d you learn that one? Scrabble?”

“Alright, that’s enough out of you,” he says as you laugh. He wraps his arms around you, deftly flipping your positions, hovering over you on all fours as you lay flat with your back against the mattress. Your giggles slowly subsiding as you both become aware of the new position you’ve found yourselves in.

Your heart skips a beat, thinking about how often you’ve imagined him like this, hovering over you, his abs flexing, his thighs tense. It’s real, this time. You look up to find him already looking at you, pupils blown as he watches you ogle him. You take a deep breath, trying to slow down your racing heart but finding it impossible when he’s looking at you like that.

His nostrils flare as his searing gaze travels down your body before landing back on your face. Your mouth feels impossibly dry suddenly, licking your lips, stomach twisting when his eyes track the movement. You take a deep breath, reaching your hand up to thread through his hair, landing at the nape of his neck.

“Harry,” you whisper.

He hums in response, his eyes never once leaving your mouth.

“We should probably go.”

“Mhmm.”

“Decibel barriers and all that.”

“Mhmm.”

“Harry!”, you say with a laugh, lightly swatting him on the top of his head. He breaks his focus on your lips to look up at you, a light flush spreading across his cheeks as he smiles sheepishly.

“Sorry, sorry,” he sputters out a laugh, “you’re right. Let’s be responsible. You’re just…”

He cuts himself off with a deep breath, a murmured “bloody distracting” leaving his lips before he smacks a kiss to your cheek and hops off the bed.

“M’lady,” he says, extending a hand to you to help you off the bed as you take it with a snort. He does a little bow, dipping his head to press a kiss to your knuckles before popping up with a smirk at your expression.

“Right,” he says, starting to head around the bed towards the ensuite, “I’ve got a hot date to get ready for. Leave here in like 20ish minutes?”

“Ish.” you emphasize, staring at your mess of a suitcase. This should be interesting.

—

30(ish) minutes later, you were out in the warm spring night, heading up the road to the restaurant. You felt his eyes on you, turning your head to find him smirking.

“Looks good on you,” he said, pointing to your - well, his - sweater. Right.

In your defense, your suitcase was lacking only because you were in emotional distress while packing it. Trying to figure out what to wear while you watch the love of your life marry someone else is no easy task. You were never planning on staying long, so only packed the essentials. It wasn’t your fault that you apparently only packed pajamas and jeans.

“I can’t believe you still have this.” It had to be at least 5 years old, back in his days of chelsea boots and skinny jeans.

“Yeah, well,” he shrugged, “you told me you liked how it looked on me. Wasn’t getting rid of it after that.”

You gape at him for a moment, still not used to how he can just casually say these sentences that knock the wind out of you. He smiles softly at you, reaching out for your hand and pulling you closer. He holds on to your hand, lacing your fingers together as you continue walking. The novelty of it, just simply holding his hand, makes your breath catch in your throat as he rubs his thumb against the back of your hand, content to just hold yours.

He points out some shops along the way, streets he got lost down when he went on his first morning run here. As you get further into town, you expect him to pull his hand away. There’s not a ton of people but it’s not deserted. And he is still one of the most famous men in the world, a fact he cannot run away from. Maybe he’s trying to not hurt your feelings, to not mess with this new thing between you. You go to pull your hand away but when he only tightens his hold on your hand, you look up at him in confusion.

“‘S not like that here,” he says, pulling you towards a cluster of trattorias to your right, “They don’t really care about any of it. ‘S why I wanted to stay here. Bring you here. So we could just be two people on a date. Just you and me - ”

“Il mio raggio di sole!!” A voice booms out from inside the restaurant.

“ - And Leonardo.” he says, affectionately rolling his eyes, squeezing your hand once before letting go as he extends his arms out wide towards the older Italian gentleman bustling out of the open doors of the trattoria.

“Amore mio!” Harry yells when he sees him. Leonardo laughs a big belly laugh before grabbing Harry’s face and kissing him on both cheeks. They laugh and hug each other, with a few slaps on the back for good measure.

“Perché non mi hai detto che stavi arrivando?” Leonardo asks Harry when he pulls away, a hand still affectionately resting on his shoulder.

“Volevo sorprenderti!” Harry says with a smile that widens when Leonardo grabs his face and pinches his cheek.

You’ve got no idea what they’re saying but you can’t deny that watching the way Italian words leave Harry’s mouth makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. You stand there, watching the two old friends catch up, in awe once again of the effect he has on people wherever he goes.

It’s almost impossible to articulate, the way his warmth and kindness radiates off of him, how he makes the person he’s talking to feel like the only person that matters and they can’t help but fall in love with him. It’s why you felt so foolish about your feelings at times, feeling like just one in a million girls who fell under Harry Styles’ spell. You knew your relationship was different than the one he had with the world but it was hard to feel that way, especially when you saw him in action. But here, and now, the way he keeps sneaking glances over to you as he laughs with Leonardo, maybe you weren’t just one in a million. Maybe you were just the one.

After Harry’s eighth glance over to you, Leonardo looks over at you with a smile.

“Where are my manners? How could you let me be so rude?” he says to Harry before smacking him on the chest.

Harry laughs and introduces you, saying your name with a small smile.

“Buonasera, senora” Leonardo says, extending a hand out to you as he leans in to kiss your cheeks in greeting.

“Buonasera” you say back, in probably the worst Italian anyone has ever heard but in their kindness, neither of them make fun of you for it. “So nice to meet you.”

“How do you know our boy?” he asks affectionately.

“Oh, we go way back. We’ve been friends since we were kids.” you say with a smile.

“Ah, bellissimo.” Leonardo says, “I met this young man a few years back now. With that long hair of his and those tight, tight pants.”

Harry barks out a laugh at that, a light blush dusting his cheeks. “Hey, those pants were cool, then.”

“He stumbled upon our trattoria and charmed the hell out of everyone in the place. He’s made sure to stop by every time he’s in town. We love him here.”

“Yeah, he tends to have that effect on people,” you say.

“One of a kind, this boy.” Leonardo smiles and turns to Harry, “La tua amica è molto carina.”

“Mia ragazza,” he says back softly, “Lei è la mia ragazza”.

He looks over at you, fondness in his eyes, just as Leonardo smacks him upside the back of his head.

“Tua ragazza?!” He says, “Tua ragazza?! What are you talking to me for? Mio dio. Come, come.”

He leads you both through the trattoria, bustling with cozy energy, small tables and intimate lighting. He takes you through the kitchen, grabbing a carafe of wine before leading you to the back patio. Fairy lights string the awning, tables scattered throughout the space. There’s only one other older couple sitting in the far corner, paying you no mind as their heads stay ducked in conversation. Leonardo leads you to a table on the opposite end. You can see the water from here, how the moonlight shines against it. It’s lovely.

“Sit, sit.” Leonardo insists, not even bothering to put out menus as he pours the wine in your glasses. “We’ll take good care of you. Enjoy.”

He winks at you before heading back inside.

“Cheers,” Harry says, lifting his glass to yours as you reciprocate the message, each taking a sip of your wine.

“I didn’t know you spoke Italian that well,” you say.

“‘M not that good,” he says, “Still learning. Wanted to be able to spend more time here and actually speak the language.”

“Well, it sounds good to me.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, it’s hot,” you say bluntly as he snorts out a laugh. “What did you say to him earlier? That made him smack you?”

“Ah.” he says, looking down at the table for a moment, a light blush dusting his cheeks. “He told me my friend was very pretty. And I corrected him, and said you were my date.”

“Oh. That’s sweet.” you say with a smile, warmth flooding you. Doesn’t seem worth blushing over, but you’re endeared nonetheless.

“I actually - I used a different word,” he says, sheepishly scratching at the side of his face before looking up at you.

“What do you mean?”

“In Italian, there’s a few words for date. There’s appuntomenta which is like a casual date with someone. If you were going on a first date, that’s what you would say. But I said ragazza, mio ragazza, which is what you say when you’re on a date with your girlfriend.”

“Oh.”

He stares at you for a moment, trying to gauge your reaction, his next words coming out in a rush.

“I know that’s a lot. And we haven’t talked about anything and that tonight was technically my wedding night but I -” he takes a deep breath, reaching for your hand before stopping himself, letting it rest right near yours on the table, looking at you with utter sincerity. “This isn’t casual, to me. You mean…this is…”

“Different,” you say.

“Yeah, but it's more than that,” he says, “This is…’s not something I’m trying out to see if it works. I’m in this, for real. I’ve never - ‘s not felt like this with anyone. ‘S like…

He pauses to collect his thoughts and when he looks back up at you, his eyes are glassy, emotion clear in his voice.

“‘S like I didn’t realize something was missing and then you told me you loved me and my whole world shifted. Like a missing piece of a puzzle finally clicked into place that I hadn’t realized was lost.”

“Harry,” you breathe out.

“I’m just…” he takes a deep breath, shakes his head. “This feels like a date with my girlfriend. Like someone I want to spend a lot of time with. For as long as I possibly can. And that’s why I said it. Is that okay?”

You’re silent for a moment, just staring at him in awe, blinking back the tears that rushed to your eyes.

“Yeah,” you say, with a laugh of disbelief, “that’s okay.”

“Good,” he says, gently taking your hand and lacing your fingers together.

“Good,” you repeat. “And uh, for me too. I mean, this feels that way for me, too. I would say you’re, uh… mio ragazzo?”

“You’re shit at Italian,” he says with a wide grin, sparking a laugh out of you as he chuckles.

“But yeah,” he says, fingers tightening around yours, “That’s what you would say. If you wanted to.”

“I wanted to,” you say, hooking your ankle around his under the table, heart skipping a beat as his smile goes to something softer, more private. Just for you.

“Good.”

“Good.”

You just sit there, grinning at each other like two kids with a school crush, before Leonardo bursts through the doors, gorgeous plates of food in his hand.

“Buckle up,” Harry mutters, “this is just the first course.”

The night flies from there. Leonardo brings out course after course of delicious food, always making sure your wine supply never runs low. Your conversation flows from childhood memories to the books you’re currently reading that you can’t put down. It feels like it always does when the two of you finally get to sit down and catch up for the first time in a while except this time, he squeezes your hand every so often and you brush your leg against his in a way that makes pupils go a bit wider.

At one point, Leonardo and his wife Isabella, a shorter woman with a fierce bob and whip smart wit, join you for a glass or two, reminiscing about Harry’s adventures in Italy when he was a few years younger. Tears fill your eyes as Leonardo recalls the story of how he first met and fell in love with Isabella twenty-three years ago, as she constantly interjects with corrections much to your amusement. The night draws to a close when you start to feel Harry’s eyes on you no matter who is talking in the conversation, something Isabella picks up on immediately, gently swatting Leonardo as he begins another story.

“Amore mio, we should let these two go. It’s their first night here and we’ve been talking their ears off.” she says.

“No!” you and Harry say at the same time, his attention snapping back to them as Isabella smirks at him.

“Really, it’s been so lovely,” you say, as Isabella takes your hand and squeezes it affectionately.

“We’ll see you soon, mio caro. I know it.”

After a bit of a battle over the bill, or lack thereof, that ends with Harry shoving a large wad of euros into Leonardo’s pocket and refusing to take them back and Isabella placing another bottle of wine into your hands for you to take home with vows to teach you some recipes the next time you come, you say your goodbyes with hugs and kisses, feeling like you’ve known this couple for far longer than just the past few hours.

As you’re leaving, Isabella takes Harry’s face in her hands, saying “Lei è speciale. Prenditi cura di lei” to which he nods and replies, “Sempre. Sempre.”

She gives him one final kiss on the cheek and you head back out into the night, the activity of the restaurant having simmered during the late hour. Harry wraps an arm around your shoulder and pulls you close, pressing a kiss to your temple.

“Did you like it?”

“Think that was the best meal I’ve ever had. And they’re amazing. To have taken over the family business at such a young age and to have kept it going the way they have…and to still love each other the way they do. It’s incredible.”

“I know. It’s always great getting to see them. They’re really something else.”

“I also always love getting to see the effect you have on people.” you say softly after a few moments of silence. “The way they’re drawn to you like a moth to a flame. You just make everyone feel so singular and special.”

“What - you mean, tonight? No, that was all you.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You’re very charming, you know. And smart. And funny. And a really great person to tell a story to.” he says, slowing your walk to a stop as he turns to face you. Taking a few moments to just look at you, his eyes grazing over your features, a small smile on lips.

“‘S what Isabella said to me as we were leaving. She said you were special and that I should take good care of you.”

Your breath catches in your throat, heartbeat thrumming at having him this close for the first time in hours. “And what did you say back?”

He cups your face in his hands, his thumb caressing your cheek. “Always. Sempre.” he says, leaning in. “Sempre. Amore mio.”

He says the last phrase against your mouth before capturing your lips in a sweet kiss. You can’t help the small noise that escapes you as you kiss him back. One hand falls to your hip to pull you closer, the bottle of wine getting smushed between you as he kisses you again.

He pulls away with a groan. “This bottle of wine is killing my vibe.”

He leans his forehead against yours as you huff a laugh, his thumb drawing circles on your hip. It feels quite familiar to about 30 hours ago, when he held you like this in the courtyard and yet it couldn’t be more different. He kisses you once more before pulling away.

“Had a lot of wine. Should probably keep walking around for a bit, if that’s cool with you. ‘S a nice night.”

“Yeah, I’m good with that.” you say as he takes your hand, lacing your fingers together as you resume your walk.

You walk along the cobblestone streets, well-lit despite the dark night sky. You don’t talk much, but you don’t have to, content to be in the silence and have each other close. As you get closer to the water, Harry slows down by the benches overlooking a pier.

“D’you wanna sit for a bit?”, he asks, looking at you while you nod. You sit down next to each other, placing the wine on the ground by your feet, looking out at the night sky that stretches above you, unable to see much else but the moon and stars. You can see the light from some boats and hear some music from the restaurants a bit up the way but other than that, it's quiet.

“Bit of a shit view at night,” you say, as he barks out a loud laugh.

A comfortable silence falls over the two of you as you sit there, looking out at the stars. You breathe in the warm spring air, feeling buzzed from the wine, and from him. Just happy. It’s hard to believe that this is real, that you’re sitting where you are.

You can feel him on the verge of saying something. Even out of the corner of your eye, you can spot his long held mannerisms and know better than to push it. He’s incredibly careful with his words, especially when it comes to public speaking, always opting to take the time to think the words through before saying them out loud. With you, he usually opts to just let them imperfectly flow, sure he’ll find his point along the way, no self-consciousness or public perception to hold him back. When you turn to face him, his brow furrowed as he pinches his bottom lip, you can tell that he wants to take his time with this. Wants to get the words exactly right, whatever the words may be.

“Y’ scare the shit out of me. Y’ always have.”

Or not.

“I - what?” you say, sputtering out a laugh. “That’s not true.”

“My palms are sweating,” he says, holding out his palms for you to see before laying them back in his lap. “Feel like I’m 12 years old, asking you to dance all over again.”

“Oh come on, H. You were not nervous for that.”

“Was bricking myself, love.” he says, turning to face you as your brows crease in confusion. You making him nervous? That can’t be true. “Had the biggest crush on you back then.”

“You WHAT?”

“Come on, you had to have known that.” he says, as you start to vehemently shake your head. “I wasn’t subtle at all.”

“I had no idea.”

“Asked you to dance, didn’t I?”

Your heart lurches as he repeats the words he said to you all those years ago, verbatim. The memory already taking on a different life with this new piece of information. The way he had clutched your wrist, how he wouldn’t look you in the eye, how sweaty his palms had been. Oh. These little moments in your life turning out to mean as much to him as they do to you makes your head spin.

“I made us all play spin the bottle at Katie’s 13th birthday trying to get you to kiss me.” he says, unable to stop the confessions once he’s started.

“What?” you say with a disbelieving laugh, “So you’re the reason my first kiss was with Conor Williams?”

“Trust me, I’m just as upset about it as you are.” he says as you laugh. “I couldn’t figure out the mechanics of how to make sure the bottle landed on you in time and then that bastard took the first turn.”

“It really wasn’t anything special,” you say with a laugh.

“Yeah, well, it was supposed to be.” he grumbles, shaking his head. “Can’t believe you didn’t know. Gem used to tease me mercilessly about it - the way I would always spend like 20 minutes making sure my curls fell the right way before going over to yours for Sunday roast.”

You giggle, helplessly endeared at the thought of little 13 year old Harry, in his big chinos and polo shirts, frantically fixing his curls in the mirror, just for them to fall the way they always did.

“Clearly it didn’t work,” he says, smiling over at you.

“Maybe not at the time,” you say, “But I promise those curls have really done a number on me over the years.”

“Yeah?”

“Oh yeah.” you say emphatically as he raises his eyebrows, huffing out a laugh. “You don’t even know.”

“I’d like to,” he says, his voice rumbling out like gravel. The expression on his face makes your breath catch in your throat, still not used to the way he can so easily go from a regular conversation to making you feel like you’re on fire.

“Bloody narcissist,” you say, the waver in your voice being a dead giveaway as to how affected you are and it makes him smirk, his eyes twinkling.

“Oh, but you love it,” he teases.

“Yeah,” you say with a deep breath, “turns out I do.”

His face floods with emotion then, his eyes darting all over your face before he takes a deep breath, breaking eye contact to look down at his hands with a furrow in his brow.

“Maybe if I had just told you back then…”

“H.” you say gently, “We were kids. I’m not sure a relationship between two 13 year olds would have stood the test of time.”

“Yeah, I just -” he drags a hand down his face. “That 13 year old kid knew exactly what he wanted when it came to you. And for me - I…My entire world flipped upside down when I was 16. Everything changed, all at once, forever. The only things that were constant in my life were Mum, Gemma… and you.”

You inhale sharply at that, a sound louder than you meant it to be, as it makes his head snap up and reach for your hand, holding it between both of his own as he turns to face you.

“And I couldn’t mess with that. To be honest, I don’t know that I even wanted to, just assumed that how I felt about you was how someone feels about their closest friend. You were my best mate and I needed that, as much as a selfish prick as that makes me.”

“That makes sense to me,” you say, “H, I was never expecting you to -”

“But I -” he says, cutting you off, “I wish I had stopped to think about why it was different with you. Like why I wanted to deck that bloke you were seeing a few years back because he kept ordering you bloody pimms cups which you hate. Or why I couldn’t stop staring at you at mum’s birthday this past year because I…I thought you looked so beautiful.”

“You…what?” You must’ve heard him incorrectly, the sound of your heartbeat thrumming in your ears.

“Couldn’t get you off my mind for weeks, love.” he says. “But I was already engaged and –”

He makes a miserable noise at that, leaning his elbows on his thighs, his hands coming up to cover his face.

“I…I thought it was just me freaking out about getting married. Wasn’t lying when I said I was shit at relationships, I tend to flake out the moment ‘m supposed to commit. But… something felt off the second I proposed, if I’m honest. And I could never figure out why that was, we had a good relationship and it felt like the right thing to do…so I just ignored it. Thought it was just fear of being tied down.”

“When I called you on my birthday, I almost told you about it. About how I didn’t think I should go through with it. But I…”, he shakes his head, taking a deep breath, his voice thick with emotion, “I couldn’t figure out how to articulate it. And I got scared. Of what you might say. ‘Nd what it might mean. ‘Ve always done what people want me to do so going against that…I couldn’t – I was all over the place. Couldn’t figure out what I wanted or what I should do –”

He shakes his head, taking a moment to collect himself before looking over at you, tears in his eyes. He reaches out his hand to take yours, lacing your fingers together, looking you right in the eyes.

“But then… there you were. Standing in that courtyard, looking unbelievable. And telling me you loved me. And suddenly everything made sense. All the confusion I felt over the past year. All the questions I’ve had about us over the years. I …it all felt wrong because it wasn’t with you. And it’s always been you.”

You don’t think you’ve breathed in the last minute, unable to do anything but hold his hand tight, tears already falling down your cheeks as he reaches up to brush one away.

“Think I started loving you when I was 13 and a part of me never stopped. ‘Nd I’m so sorry it took me this long to realize it. But nothing in my life has ever made more sense to me than being here with you, right now. I – come closer to me,” he says, pulling at your hand and wrapping his arm around your waist, not letting go until you’re situated in his lap.

He looks up at you, a few tears in his eyes that you bring your hand up to wipe away as he smiles at you. Looking at you with adoration in his eyes. Bringing his hands up to cup your cheeks, he takes a deep breath before saying:

“I love you.”

You take a moment to take in his features, the love in his eyes, the smile so wide the dimple is showing, knowing your matching grin looks the same. He’s here. He’s yours.

You can’t explain the sound you make as you crash your lips to his, his hand coming up to the back of your neck, the other holding you at the hip to keep you in place. It’s a bit of a mess, with the tears from both of your cheeks, the way you can’t stop smiling to get a proper kiss in, the way he keeps mumbling “’m sorry, i love you” between kisses but… it’s perfect.

You pull back slightly, wary of moving too far away, wanting to keep as much of yourself touching him as possible, but wanting to get a good look at his face.

“Thank you for telling me all of that.”

“Was a lot, wasn’t it?” he says with a sheepish laugh.

“The most you’ve ever talked I think.” you say with a giggle as he pinches your hip.

“I really am sorry, you know” he says sincerely. “I wish I had been less of a coward —”

“Think you’re being too hard on yourself. There was a lot going on. I never said anything to you either. I was also trying to do the right thing, what was expected. And I was purposefully trying to detach myself to make things easier —”

“Yeah, don’t do that again.”, he says, arms tightening around you, pulling you in impossibly closer.

“I won’t,” you say with a giggle.

“Good.”

You take a moment to stare at him. At your boy. The only boy you’ve ever loved. “Harry?”

He hums in response, a soft smile on his lips.

“I love you, too.”

His eyes flutter shut at that, taking a deep breath as his smile grows wider, opening his eyes back up to look right at you.

“Can you say it again, please?”

“I love you, I love you, I love you I l–”

He cuts you off with a sweet kiss, holding you like you’re the most precious thing, thumb drawing circles on your hip. A sigh falls from your mouth as he leans in to kiss you once more, his lips pressing to yours over and over.

He slowly pulls away, burying his head into your neck, inhaling deeply as he tightens his arms around you. The two of you sit there, holding each other close, breathing each other in. Both reveling in the ability to finally have the person you love, the person you’ve always loved, in your arms.

Slowly, you start to feel his mouth on your neck, lips dragging against the skin, tongue slipping out between kisses to taste the skin in a way that has your toes curling. He kisses a slow line up your neck, pausing at that one spot behind your ear. He sucks a mark into the skin, making himself known, the sensation has you letting out a small moan.

His hands tighten on your hips at the sound, a soft groan leaving his mouth as he gently nips at your skin before he pulls back. His eyes graze all of your face before landing on your lips. The shift in energy is palpable, simmering between you two. His hand comes up to the back of your neck, tightening slightly when you lick your lips.

“Fuck.”

He dives back in, the kiss quickly descending into pure heat as his tongue swipes against your lips, groaning deeply in his chest when you lick into his mouth, your hand sliding up into his hair. His tongue passes over yours, not giving you a second to breathe as he bites down at your bottom lip before kissing you deeply once more.

When you pull away to catch your breath, he starts to kiss his way along your jaw, sucking at the skin when he gets to your neck.

“H?” You’re panting, desperately trying to hold it together but every second with his lips on your skin is one second closer to you just taking him right here on this bench.

He lets out a guttural groan, hand tightening on your hip, his hips rolling up into yours in a way that makes you feel all of him. Shit, had you said that last bit out loud?

“Harry,” you breathe out.

“Yeah, baby?” he says, lips moving against your skin. And well, fuck. He’s never called you that before, the pet name sending a jolt straight to your core as you tighten your fingers in his hair. You can feel him smiling against your neck, clearly loving the effect he’s having on you.

“Take me home.”

He groans quietly against your throat, pulling his head back to look at you as his arms tighten around your waist, his eyes dark, pupils blown.

“Yeah,” he says, leaning in to kiss you firmly. “Yes, please. Yeah. Let’s - let’s go.”

He kisses you once more before leaning back, offering a hand up to help you off of his lap and standing once you’re all set. Smirking as he not so subtly adjusts himself. He bends down to pick up the bottle of wine and then takes your hand, pulling you close and wrapping his arm around your waist.

“Come on, baby.” he says. “Let’s go home.”

– - - -

The tension from earlier seems to have faded slightly on the walk back, as the two of you toe off your sneakers, swollen lips offering shy smiles, your heart thundering with nerves. You wanted him, you’ve always wanted him, there was no doubt about that. You’ve fantasized about it, dreamt about it and now that it was actually about to happen, you weren’t sure what to do. It would be one thing if he had grown up just looking like all the other guys your age, but no, he had to go and turn himself into walking sex on legs. You were losing it.

You look up to find him smiling softly at you, holding up the bottle of wine in his hand.

“Could pour us a glass, if you’d like.”

“Yeah, that’d be great.” you say with a nod, watching as he walks over to the kitchen. You follow slowly behind, trying to make yourself snap out of it. You loved him and he just told you he loved you. He loved you. You wanted him and it seems like he wanted you just as badly, if his groans were any indication. You’ve spent so much of your life being afraid of what could happen between you two, what could go wrong and now, there was nothing to be afraid of. Not here. Not right now.

As you watched him reach up for two glasses, his shirt riding up to reveal a sliver of skin, his abs and laurel tattoos peeking out, you decided you didn’t want wine after all. You were thirsty for something else entirely. You cringe at yourself for that last one. No more thinking.

“Harry? I actually - I changed my mind.” you say, taking a few steps over to get closer to him. “I don’t want wine anymore.”

“Yeah?”, he says, turning around to lean against the counter and crossing his arms, his biceps suddenly bulging in a way you can’t take your eyes off of. He watches as your eyes drag down his body before locking eyes with him as he licks his lips. “What do you want?”

“You. I want you. It’s all I –” The words are barely out of your mouth when he hooks his fingers through the belt loop of your jeans, pulling you right into him as he captures your lips with his. The sweetness from earlier long forgotten as he hotly licks into your mouth, his tongue sweeping over yours in a way that makes your head spin. His hands drift down to your ass, squeezing once as he moans into your mouth, pulling you even closer to him.

He spins you suddenly, pinning you against the countertop and grinding his hips against yours as he drags his lips down your neck. You’re panting, dragging your hands down his biceps, the muscles flexing as he plants his hands on the countertop, caging you in. His lips drag along your cheekbone before they find their way to yours once again. He kisses you hard as you trail your hands up his arms and down his back, his unbelievable back muscles that you can’t help but knead your hands into as you roll your hips up into his. He groans in appreciation, pulling away to press kisses along your jaw, one of his hands sliding up your sweater, just resting possessively against your ribs, his thumb grazing the edge of your bra. The feeling of his hands on your skin making your core throb as he sucks at the skin of your neck, determined to leave a mark.

“Harry,” you moan out his name in a way that has him sucking harder, his hand gripping you tighter. “We should - bedroom.”

He pulls back to look at you, panting to catch his breath. His lips are swollen, eyes the darkest you’ve ever seen them as he drags his thumb across your bottom lip, almost growling when your tongue swipes out to taste it.

“C’mere.” He takes a step back and pulls you into him, pressing his lips to yours once again, looping his arms around your hips. “Jump.”

You don’t think about it, just do, as you jump up into his arms, looping your legs around his waist.

“This okay?”

“Yeah,” you say breathlessly, bending your head down to mouth at the skin of his neck. “Drop me and I’ll kill you.”

“Not gonna do that,” he says, making his way out of the kitchen before letting go for a millisecond, you drop down a centimeter as you squeal before his arms catch you once more, holding you tight.

“Oh, you absolute arsehole!”

You can feel his giggles as much as you can hear them which sets you off to the point where he has to stop walking, arms holding you tight as you both dissolve into laughter. You pull your head back to look at him, finding him smiling up at you.

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

“Is your back okay?”

He rolls his eyes, tightening his arms around you.

“M’back’s fine.” he says, leaning in to nudge his nose against yours before claiming your lips in a sweet kiss. He leans back to smile up at you, his dimple making an appearance.

You wind your hand up into the hairs at the nape of his neck, taking a moment to survey him, your eyes immediately drawn to his arms, flexed with effort but showing no signs of strain or struggle. Fuck, he’s so strong.

“Your arms are driving me insane,” you whisper, mostly to yourself but he hears you, huffing out a laugh as he leans in to plant a line of kisses down your neck.

“Yeah? You like them?” he asks, flexing them intentionally, grinning when you squeeze them.

“Harry.” you all but whine. “Take me to bed.”

He moans at that, pressing his lips to yours and kissing you deeply before continuing to walk down the hallway, holding you tight against him. You drag your lips along the skin of his neck, sucking lightly as he kicks the bedroom door open, sliding his hands to your thighs to help you ease to the ground, every inch of your body sliding against his as you do.

You stand there, looking at each other, before he swallows heavily, bringing his slightly shaking hands up to cup your face, leaning in to kiss you once more. He presses his lips to yours once, twice before pulling away and resting his forehead against yours.

“You nervous?” he whispers against your lips.

You nod. “A bit. Are you?”

“A bit. ‘S a big deal. You’re a big deal.” His thumb rubs against your cheekbone as he pulls back to look you right in the eyes. “But I love you and you love me. And I want you. And you want me.”

“I do,” you say, your hands coming to rest at his hips. “I really do. Wanna show you how much.”

“I’m yours, darling.”

You lean up to capture his lips with yours, swiping your tongue over his as you slide your hands under his shirt, pushing the fabric up before he breaks away from your mouth to pull the shirt over his head.

And there he is. Shirtless in a bedroom with you. You’ve been in this position before, but never like this. Never with his hooded eyes burning into your face as you take him all in. He’s yours to love. To touch. To fuck.

You slide your hand down his chest, his head ducked to follow the movement, before you’re undoing the button on his trousers, sliding your hand inside to cup at his length, already half hard, through his briefs. His head tilts back on his neck, his breath coming in short bursts as he drags his hand down your back to grab a firm handful of your arse.

You spin yourselves around, walking him backward before pushing him down lightly on the foot of the bed. His hands propped up to hold himself up, his legs spread wide as he watches you walk over to him, reaching out to grab your wrist and pulling you onto his lap.

“Y’ wearing too many clothes.” he says, his hands already traveling up your sweater.

“I wasn’t done.” you huff out, which turns more into a pant as he leans in to kiss you on the neck.

“Just need you more naked, love. Won’t interrupt again, I just - ” he cuts himself off, grabbing the hem of your sweater and pulling it over your head, his eyes immediately roaming over your skin.

And this is…being naked, even half naked, in front of someone for the first time is always nerve-wracking, regardless of how you feel about your appearance (and you were hot and you knew it, okay?!) but this is a whole other level. You’re a bit frozen in place, desperate to know if he likes what he sees.

He must feel you stiffen, because his hands immediately come to rest at your hips.

“You okay?” he asks, his eyes never once straying from yours.

“Yeah,” you say, huffing out a nervous laugh. “Just got nervous about you seeing me naked. Wondering if you liked it”

“Y- what?! Y’can’t be serious.” he all but squawks.

“I didn’t say it was rational!” you say with a giggle. “Just - it’s a big deal.”

“For me, too. ‘S an honor. A privilege. Thanking m’lucky stars –

“Oh my god.” you say, rolling your eyes.

“‘M serious. Y’ dead sexy.” he says, leaning in to plant a scintillating kiss to your neck before pulling back, suddenly serious. “Did you want to stop?”

“No, no, no. Not at all,” you say, threading your hand through his hair. “I want this. Want you. Thought about it so many times.”

He moans at that, sucking a kiss behind your ear before pulling back to whisper, “Gonna tell me what you thought about?”

“Wanna show you.” you say as he groans, kissing your neck once more before pulling away.

“‘M not done yet” he says, eyes locking with yours before sweeping down your body again. “Fuck. So beautiful.”

He plants a line of kisses down your neck, stopping to suck a mark on your collarbone as reaches around to unclasp your bra, helping it slide off your shoulders. He stares for a moment before diving in, kisses roaming from your sternum down to your breasts, wrapping his lips around one nipple while his hand massages the other. You’re overwhelmed, moaning at the sensation. You could stay here forever, slowly becoming putty in his hands as he moves his mouth to your other breast. But that’s not what you want.

You lean back, stopping his head with a gentle hand in his hair when he tries to follow you. His blown pupils staring right back at you.

You slip off his thigh and kneel in between his legs, grabbing his trousers and briefs by the waistband and pulling them down as he lifts his hips off the bed to help, his chest already heaving at the sight of you on your knees in front of him. Once you get them off his legs, you can’t help but gape at him. Sitting in front of you, in all his naked glory. He’s fully hard now, his glorious cock standing proud, already rosy red at the tip. He’s big. You want him inside you. But you’ve got something else to do first.

You lean in, planting kisses along his inner thigh, occasionally sucking the skin into your mouth to leave a mark while your hand sweeps up his other leg, kneading the muscle every so often. He groans, threading his hand through your hair, a mumbled “fuck me” leaving his lips as you make your way up his legs. You kiss a line along his hip, leaning in to lick at the laurel tattoos before looking up at him as he stares right back with dark eyes and a light sheen of sweat on his forehead.

“Y’ don’t have to -”

“I want to,” you say, wrapping a loose fist around his cock as you kiss along the prominent vein, reveling in the way his eyes roll back, eyes fluttering closed, a full body shudder going through him. “This okay?”

“Yes - fuck. Please.” he tightens his hand in your hair as you pump his cock once before darting your tongue out and sucking at the tip.

He immediately moans, deep and guttural, trying in vain to keep his hips still as work him into your throat. You close your eyes, reveling in the feel of him as you drag your tongue along the vein, tightening your mouth at the tip as his breathing becomes heavier. You bob your head, working your mouth open to meet your fist at the base.

“Jesus, ‘s good. ‘S so good - baby,” he groans, chest heaving as your dewy eyes open to meet his, moaning the second you make eye contact. You can feel arousal pooling at the center of your thighs, shifting on your heels to find some relief. You leave one hand on his cock, the other sliding up to rest on his butterfly tattoo, feeling it jump under your hand as you give a particularly hard suck.

You pull off with an undignified slurp, keeping your hand pumping on him as you kiss down his length. Between his sounds, his taste, the feel of his fingers against your scalp, you’re wetter than you’ve ever been. You need him.

“Doing so good for me, you look unbelievable - ” he says, groaning as you take him down once more. “Oh fuck -”

You only manage a few more bobs of your head before he’s pulling you off of him, closing his eyes to collect himself.

“Gotta - gotta stop.” he says as you unwrap your fist, dragging your hands along his thighs. “Gonna make me come - and I -”

He shakes his head, chest still heaving as he reaches for your hands, pulling you up to stand in between his thighs. He immediately presses his mouth to your belly, dragging slow, wet kisses down until he reaches the waistband of your trousers, bringing his hands up to meet his mouth.

“Can I?” You’re nodding before he can even get the words out, desperate to have his hands on you.

He unbuttons your jeans and pulls them down slowly. Once they’re at your ankles, you hastily and ungracefully kick them off. He huffs out a laugh before taking you all in, swallowing heavily before dragging his eyes to your face, resting his chin against your stomach as he looks up at you, utterly rapt. His hands knead your thighs, edging closer to where you need him most before he pulls them away again.

“Want you on my bed,” he says and you all but crawl over him to get there, snorting out a laugh when he smacks you on the bum before you settle down against the pillows.

“Was right there,” he says, giggling as he turns around to face you. “Had to do someth…”

The words die in his throat when he sees you, sitting back against his heels for a moment as his eyes roam all over you, his searing gaze making you throb. He crawls up to lay beside you, bringing two fingers under your chin to tilt your head towards him and capturing your lips with his, groaning when he can taste himself on your tongue.

“Need to touch you,” he whispers against your lips. “Can I?”

“Please.” you whisper back. He props himself up on his elbow, bringing his other hand to rest on your sternum. Your breath catches when he leans in to kiss your neck, dragging his fingertips from your collarbone down to the waistband of your underwear, pausing a moment before pushing his hand inside, his fingers teasing at your folds, at where you’re practically dripping for him.

He bites down on your neck, groaning when he feels your wetness. “‘S this all for me? Y’ got this wet from sucking my cock?”

“Shit,” you moan out, eyes rolling back as his fingers start to rub circles on your clit. Each touch sends sparks shooting down your spine.

“Y’ so wet,” he moans into your ear, kissing a line across your jaw before licking into your mouth. You thread your hand into his hair as you kiss back, or attempt to, moaning deeply when you feel his hard cock against your hip. “‘S this really all for me?”

You pull back, looking into his hooded eyes as you whisper “Sempre.”

A moan punches out of him as he closes his eyes, stilling his hand for a moment. “Don’t - don’t do that,” he says, shakily. “Gonna make me bust a nut.”

“Thought my Italian was shit.” you say, laughing, still determined to tease him despite feeling like you’re about to explode, wiggling your hips to get his fingers where you want them.

“Turns out it hits very differently when you’re naked in m’ bed….” he says, kissing you deeply once more, before slipping a finger inside you, groaning as he pulls away. “And you’re this tight -”

“H -” you gasp out, feeling like every inch of you is on fire, the coil in your stomach already tightening with each delicious curl of his finger. Fuck. You never imagined he’d feel this good.

“Y’ feel so good, baby.” he says, lips dragging against your skin. “Want you to come like this. Can y’ do that for me?”

“Yeah. Want another - .” He slides another finger inside of you, effectively cutting you off. “Yes.”

“That’s better, yeah? That’s what my girl needed.” he says, resting his forehead against your temple. You tighten your hand in his hair, unable to focus on anything but the feel of his breath against your skin, the feeling of his fingers fucking you. The coil tightening as you start to pant. Fuck.

“Harry -” you moan, opening your eyes to look at him, his pupils blown out wide, nostrils flared as his eyes roam across your face before locking with yours. He kisses you, tongue gliding over yours as he brings his thumb to rub against your clit. Heat sears through you, thighs tightening as you feel yourself hurtling closer to the edge. “‘I’m close - oh!”

“Y’ look so good. Want you to come.” he mumbles against your skin. All it takes is a few more pumps of his fingers, his thumb swiping in one more delicious circle, his lips brushing against yours and then you’re coming. Hard.

Wave after wave of pleasure rolls through you, as a symphony of indecipherable moans leave your mouth, your stomach pulled tight, your core throbbing. It’s never felt like this before. His fingers fucking you through the last wave before the overstimulation has you groaning. He gently pulls his fingers out and sucks them into his mouth while locking eyes with you. His eyes rolling back at your taste.

“Taste so good,” his voice grumbles out, deeper than ever before. “Could just lay here and eat y’ for hours, if y’ wanted. Make you come over and over -”

You pull his head to your mouth, kissing him while still trying to catch your breath. You bite his bottom lip as he pulls away to smatter kisses across your face, mumbling “fuck, baby. Looked so good. Did so good for me” between kisses. He pulls back to stare at your face, small smile on his lips as he brushes a strand of hair away from your sweaty brow.

“Jesus Christ.” you say as he smacks a kiss to your cheek.

“Y’ can just call me Harry, love.” he says, giggling when you smack him on the head.

“And here I was about to compliment you -” you say with a groan, making like you’re going to get up before his arm lays across your waist, holding you in place.

“No no no, none of that. Let me hear it.” he says as you shake your head. “Was it good for you?”

“No comment - ”

“No come on – tell me.”

“It was alright.”

“Alright?! Had you moaning like a banshee and you –”

“A banshee?! Oh my god –”

“A hot banshee.”

“Shut up.” you say with a laugh as he buries his head against your neck, laughing with you. Once you settle down, you feel him start to plant kisses along your neck, his hard cock more prominent than ever against your hip.

“I’ve never come that hard.” “Yeah?” “You made me feel so good.”

You use your grip in his hair to pull his head towards yours, licking at the seam of his lips until he opens his mouth, moaning into yours as you kiss him deeply. You swipe your tongue over his over and over, desperate to get lost in the sensation, to make him feel as good as you did. You needed him.

“Harry,” you mumble against your lips before he dives in once again, kissing you so deeply you have to pull away to catch your breath, looking him in the eyes as you rub your thumb against his bottom lip. “Fuck me.”

His eyes flutter shut as he groans, nipping at your thumb before kissing you firmly once more, your lips dragging down his neck when he pulls away.

“Have to - Baby. Fuck. Have to get stuff. Washroom.” he mumbles incoherently as you suck a mark into his skin, biting down to leave a bruise. Marking your territory. He dives in to kiss you deeply once more before you pull away again.

“Your cock is about to burn a hole through my leg,” you say as he sputters out a laugh.

“‘S your fault. You’ve got no idea how good you look when you come” he mumbles against your lips, licking into your mouth.

“Harry.” you whine.

“‘M going, ‘m going.” He kisses your cheek as he drags his hand down your body, snapping the waistband of your underwear. “Get these off.”

“You’re the one who left them on!” you complain to no avail, as he hops off the bed, doing an awkward shuffle run into the washroom. You pull your soaked underwear off and throw it to the floor, hearing him fumble around drawers. He’s about to fuck you. A shudder runs through you, and you bring your hand down to your clit, still swollen as you brush your fingers against the bud, letting out a loud moan of his name.

“Jesus - fuck.”

Ah, so he heard you.

You hear a large clattering noise, a few more mumbled curses before you look over to find him standing in the doorway, condoms in hand, dark eyes locked on you.

“What’re y’ doing?”

“Got impatient.”

“Fuck, baby.” He brings his hand down to his hard cock, pumping it a few times as his eyes travel up and down your body. “Y’ look so good.”

“Need you,” you moan and he all but scrambles up the foot of the bed, dropping the condoms unceremoniously as he crawls to rest in between your bent legs. You lift your fingers off your clit, moaning when he ducks down to suck them into his mouth. He kisses your fingertips before bending down to kiss along your inner thigh.

He kisses a line across your hip before licking a stripe up your core. A guttural moan bursts from your chest as you tangle your fingers in his hair. He kisses a line up your stomach, crawling up until he’s hovering over you on all fours. His cock right where you need him the most, grazing your core when he bends down to kiss you, the two of you moaning into each other’s mouths.

He pulls away to look at you, dark eyes brimming with lust and determination.

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

“Really want to fuck you.”

“Really want you to.”

He groans, kissing you deeply once more before leaning back on his heels and ripping the condom package open with his teeth. You’re unable to do anything but watch as he rolls the condom over his cock, his biceps flexing as he pumps himself once.

“Want y’ like this, if that’s okay.” he says, coming to hover over you once more. “Want to see you.”

“Yes, please.”

He lines himself up with your center, “deep breath for me,” and pushes in, smattering kisses across your face.

“Oh fuck.”

“Is it - fuck - okay? Y’good?”

“You’re big.” you moan out, clenching around him as you try to adjust to his size. “Just - give me a minute.”

“Take your time,” he says as he kisses at the hinge of your jaw bone. He drags his mouth across your forehead, temple, cheekbone as you take another deep breath, feeling yourself relax around him and oh shit - yes.

“You can move.” “Y’sure?”

“Yes, please - fuck.” The expletive is dragged out of you as he pulls his hips back before thrusting forward slowly. It feels like every nerve ending is on fire, like you’re ignited from within. He’s barely begun and you already can’t catch your breath.

“Fuck. Y’ feel so good.” he mumbles against your skin, lowering his arms so every inch of his skin is touching yours, you both groan at the sensation as he drags his hips back once again.

“You can - faster.” you gasp out, dragging your hands down his back grabbing a handful of his ass. “Please. Wanna feel it.”

He growls at that, kissing you deeply as he starts to fuck you. Really fuck you. Smooth, deep thrusts filling you every time. And then - oh fuck. You let out a loud moan, your hands scrambling for hold on his sweaty back.

“That’s it, yeah? Right there?” he asks as you feverishly nod your head. “Fuck, baby - y’feel -”

He lets out a guttural groan, reaching down to pull your thighs further up against his hips, moaning at the new angle. You bury your hand into his hair again, pulling on a particularly deep thrust as he moans against your neck in appreciation. You start to move your hips up against his and it takes a minute but eventually you hit a rhythm that is indescribable. It’s hard to tell where he ends and you begin. The two of you moving in tandem, working hard to make the other feel as good as possible.

He’s vocal, more so than you ever expected him to be. When he’s not mumbling praises into your hair, he’s moaning or grunting, never wavering in his determination to give it all to you. His lips drag all over your skin as he plants a kiss right over your beating heart, then licking a stripe up your neck before sucking a mark behind your ear.

“Wanted you so bad. Never imagined - fuck,” he grunts out, his abs sliding against your stomach, tattoos glistening in exertion. “Y’ feel incredible.”

He was all consuming. Determined to stay as close to you as possible, occasionally propping himself on one elbow to drag his hand down your body, squeezing at your breasts, biting your lips. You couldn’t catch your breath, feeling like every inch of you was on fire. Every drag of his hips makes your toes curl, core clenching as you melt into the mattress.

You look up at the furrow in his brow, his hooded eyes staring back at you, pure concentration in hitting you just right. Fuck. You felt yourself careening towards your high once more, clenching around him as he groaned. You threaded your hand into his hair, pulling his mouth towards you. You kissed him deeply, clenching when he thrust just right, pulling away with a gasp.

“Fuck, H. I -”

“Y’close?” he asked, moaning when you nod. “Gonna come on my cock?”

“Yeah. Fuck -” you moan, sliding your hand between your bodies to rub at your clit. Sparks fly the second your fingers make contact, he mouths along your jaw as you circle your clit. He locks eyes with you as he drags his hips out before thrusting hard. It immediately sends you over the edge, your mouth open in a silent scream as your body shakes through it. You can feel it all the way down to your toes, the waves of pleasure consuming you once again. You can’t stop clenching around him as he bites into your skin.

“Fuck, baby. Just like that. Oh - shit. Gonna make me -” he moans, thrusting in short bursts, his face screwed up in determination, his muscles tense. A guttural moan punches out of him as he comes, hard. You can feel him empty into the condom as he ducks down to kiss you, rough and deep, moaning as his whole body shudders. It’s all you can do to hold tight to his hair, kissing him back as best you can. His kisses slow, turning softer before he buries his head into your neck as you both shake with aftershocks.

It’s silent for a few moments. Just the sounds of you both trying to catch your breath. You drag your hand up and down his back as he breathes you in, not daring to move quite yet. You let your legs slide down to the mattress as he pulls his head back to look at you, a relaxed, blissful expression on his face. And to your surprise, tears in his eyes.

He brings his hand up to cup your face, rubbing his thumb on your cheekbone before leaning in to kiss you sweetly, sniffling once as he pulls away.

“Sorry I -” he shakes his head, shutting his eyes for a moment before opening them to stare right at you, his eyes soft with emotion. “That was incredible. I -”

He dives in to kiss you once more, moaning softly when you open your mouth to him, dragging your tongue against his before closing the kiss. He leans his forehead against yours.

“I never imagined it’d be that good. That it could feel like this. That we would…It’s never - I’ve never felt like this before. With anyone. ”

Tears spring to your eyes as you take in his earnest expression, the feeling on his body of yours, his hands on your skin.

“I know. Me too. That was…” You look up at him, the two of you staring in each other’s eyes, emotions you’re unable to articulate flowing through you. In awe that you’re both equally affected. You reach up, brushing a strand of hair behind his ear, keeping your fingertips resting lightly on his face.

“You took such good care of me,” you whisper.

He blinks rapidly in an attempt to keep the tears at bay, a whispered “Baby.” leaving his lips as he leans down to kiss you softly. You both just lay there, sweet kisses expressing the love words cannot.

You pull away with a soft sigh, looking up at him in a daze, taking a deep breath as you run your hand through his sweaty hair.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Chills erupt across your body as you lean up to capture his lips once more.

“Should probably pull out now.” he whispers against your lips as you snort.

“Romantic.”

He smacks a kiss against your temple as he leans back, pulling out as you both grimace. He leans back against his heels as he pulls the condom off, tying it off and throwing it into the trash next to the bed before collapsing on top of your body.

“Oof.” you groan as he laughs, planting slow kisses along your neck, before wrapping his arms around you and rolling onto his back, holding you close as you lay on top of him.

You look down at him, the post sex glow working wonders on him as he smiles sleepily at you.

“Tired you out, did I?” You ask with a smile that widens when he huffs out a laugh.

“You got me good, darling.” he whispers, pulling you closer and holding you against him as he brushes kisses along your forehead.

“Should probably pee,” you mumble.

“Sexy.”

You snort as you pull away from him, proving more to be more difficult than it should as he refuses to let you get too far. He eventually drops his hands as you roll off the bed and shuffle to the washroom.

You hurry over to the toilet to pee, flushing and standing up to wash your hands, almost gasping at your reflection in the mirror. You look well and truly fucked. Your hair is a bit of a rat’s nest, you’ve got bruises blooming all over your neck and chest but you’ve also got a glow that you’ve never seen before. You like this look on you.

You dry your hands, shuffling back into the bedroom as you hear soft snores. You look up to find him spread on the bed, still completely naked, and asleep.

You gently shake him awake as he looks over at you with bleary eyes.

“Might help to get under the covers.”

“Shit. Sorry didn’t mean to fall asleep -” he cuts himself off with a yawn. “Just did a lot of hard work, you know.”

“Trust me, I know. Gonna be feeling you for days.” He inhales sharply at that, eyes darkening as you look over at him.

“Yeah?” he says smugly, already sliding his way closer to you, his hand reaching out to grab you as you skeptically lift an eyebrow.

“You were snoring a minute ago, H.” you say, tugging at the covers to get him off of the bed.

He rolls his eyes at you, standing up and stretching and you get so distracted by the expanse of skin that you freeze for a moment.

“The covers, love?”

You snap back to attention to find him looking at you with a smug gleam in his eye. You pull the covers back and slide into bed, he immediately follows suit.

“Don’t want to fall asleep on you after I rocked your world.” He says with a yawn. “Could stay up and talk, if you wanted.”

“You just yawned like 8 times in the last 30 seconds.”

“That is an exaggeration,” he says a yawn breaking through his speech as he quickly clamps his mouth shut in an attempt to quell it. You look at him with a raised eyebrow as he smiles back meekly.

You lean in to give him a kiss, murmuring “Let’s go to sleep.”

“If you insist,” he says, as if he’s not the one already drifting off. You lean over to flip the lamp off and he wraps his arm around you, pulling you down so your head lays across his chest, as you wrap your arm around his waist, tangling your legs with his.

“Love you.” he mumbles sleepily, his breaths already coming in deeper, slower.

“Love you too,” you say, squeezing at his waist as you close your eyes, finding yourself drifting off to the steady thrum of his heartbeat. Feeling more loved than you ever have in your life. Just you and your boy, in your own little bubble. You fall into a deep sleep, blissfully ignorant of just how soon this little love bubble you’ve found yourselves in would pop. Big time.

-----

a/n: wowweee. can we believe it?! thanks for sticking with me and my long ass updates if you have. would love to know your thoughts! pls pls pls.fingers crossed its not the worst smut you've ever read xo

taglist:@tobesolovelysstuff, @louyoursins, @daydreamingofmatilda, @jojo-blog53, @marzhshaim, @devilsqueen722, @just-happiness-only,@lomlhstyles, @feestyles

[applecore6]

cw: use of she/her, vent, reader just does not feel good, kinda sucky

“Hey”

“Hi”

“…Are you okay?”

Stupid. What a stupid thing to ask. The life looked sucked out of her, and her undereyes were shades darker than her actual skin tone. Of course she wasn’t okay, but he’d only hope she’d answer the question truthfully. He was desperate for any answer. Seeing her like this pulled at his heart. It made him feel useless.

“No.” thank god.

“Why is that?“

“I don’t know. I want to scream at you, and start an argument for no reason at all.”

“Then scream at me.”

“No. There’s definitely better ways to go about what I’m feeling I just…”

He doesn’t say anything after that, just takes a seat in the spot next to her. They sit in silence. To her, it seems like forever, but it’s only been a couple seconds.

Her brain’s pumping out thoughts faster than what she can process. God. Where does she even start. All she wants to do is blow up. Make him see her how she sees herself. Make him hate her, despise her even.

She feels sick. Disgusting. Her stomach’s wrenching, and all she wants to do is throw up her insides just as proof that there’s something inside her.

“I haven’t been feeling the best.. if it wasn’t obvious. I don’t know what it is. Actually I do know, but it’s just so much I feel like I’ll overload your brain and you’ll explode right in front of me.”

“Well, I’m not sure if you know how bodies work, but I definitely won’t explode,” he laughs out.

That sound puts her at ease. Just a little. She stares blankly at the ground in front of her. She wants tears to come out, just to be melodramatic, but as expected, they don’t.

“I’m just.. horrible.”

Yeah. That’s it. That’s the best way she can put it.

“What makes you so horrible than anyone else?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t called my grandma in ages. I’m pretty sure my family thinks I’m dead given how much I interact with them. I’m not exactly the best friend a person can have. I don’t know I’m just horrible.”

“Yeah sounds like you’re the worst person in the world huh. You should be put in jail.”

She laughs a little at that. Yeah she should.

“You’re being way too hard on yourself you know. I think you’re great. I don’t think I’ve met anyone greater than you.”

“I know right, I’m awesome.”

He rolls his eyes at her interruption. There isn’t much after that.

She leans back on the uncomfortable bench she’s sitting on, the strain of her back against the hard wood feels good in the moment. She relishes in his compliment, and pretends like she’s not going to feel the same tomorrow. Right now she chooses not to think about it, instead she cranes her neck up at the sky and allows herself to just breathe.

He mirrors her position, and pretends like there wasn’t more to say. Like his brain wasn’t overflowing with more things he loved about her.

It’s just the two of them. The things they want to say linger in the air, but right now it’s just them.

[dear-ao3]

Dear anon, Katya can’t be Saphster because Katya is a man

^^^ real shout out to my real fans who know im a 6'4-hockey-playing-goofy-ass-loser-man

[hsslilly-blog]

im transferring things between laptops and came across the cover pages for that hss/hwu slideshow i did a while ago for my friends and that i never ended up posting on here so:

it was honestly soooo long lol. it was over 100 slides and each one had multiple topics. i spoke for more than an hour.. jesus

[driagnosis]

nothing like seeing this to knowing yeah, this is who i wrote the demons fueled fic for, he's all kinds of fucked up

[intellectual6666]

Being messy means you're living the life. Being organized, having it all in hand, being too perfect, means you're carving out a life. Messy sounds more human-like, more peaceful yet overhyped. Perfect sounds like a celebrity, looks so full, but feels so hollow inside.

[dee-writes-angst]

BURNING HOUSE

FEATURING Steve Harrington x fem!reader

CONTENT WARNING mentions of possible character death, actual shit writing (like its really bad), loads of angst, sadness

SUMMARY Even a burning house couldn't touch your love.

AUTHORS NOTE I hate this so much, like it is so bad, but I wanted to post something for you all because it has been WAY too long.

TAGLIST @livsters

You jolted awake, the acrid scent of smoke assaulting your senses. It wasn't the familiar aroma of your laid-back indulgence; no, it was the ominous scent of something much more sinister—a house engulfed in flames. Disbelief washed over you as you lay there, momentarily frozen in a haze of confusion and shock, unable to comprehend the gravity of the situation unfolding around you.

Steve was due to arrive in just an hour, an evening planned to be a pivotal moment when you finally confessed your feelings for him—those three words, so heavy yet so long overdue: "I love you." The anticipation had infused every action as you meticulously prepared a lavish dinner of two succulent steaks paired with creamy mashed potatoes and tender asparagus spears.

Yet, exhaustion from a day spent tirelessly working with the children had taken its toll. Unbeknownst to you, fatigue had lured you into an unintended slumber while the food simmered on the stove. Now, the reality of your situation hit you like a freight train as you sat perched on a barstool, head heavy against the countertop, witnessing the inferno that had consumed your kitchen. Flames danced greedily from the pan, hungrily devouring your countertops like a ravenous beast unleashed upon a feast.

The acrid smoke filled your lungs, searing with each breath, while the scorching heat of the flames licked at your skin. Panic surged as you realized the dire truth—you were trapped in a rapidly escalating inferno, the feeble extinguisher in the coat closet down the hall a futile defense against the voracious blaze.

In a moment of stark clarity, the gravity of your predicament spurred you into action. With a surge of adrenaline, you propelled yourself from the chair, the urgency to survive propelling you forward into the chaos that now threatened to consume everything you held dear.

Coughs wracked your body, each one a painful reminder of the toxic haze that enveloped you. Progress down the hallway to your bedroom, where a window offered a slim chance of escape, was agonizingly slow. Every step felt like wading through thick molasses, your lungs struggling against the suffocating smoke that blurred your vision and stung your eyes.

With each labored breath, the world around you seemed to shrink, collapsing into a tunnel of darkness edged with fiery tendrils. The simple act of putting one foot in front of the other became an insurmountable task, your once steady gait reduced to a feeble shuffle.

As the noxious fumes tightened their grip, your body rebelled, betraying you as muscles weakened and limbs trembled. A wave of dizziness swept over you, sending you crashing to the floor just beyond the threshold of your bedroom, a heap of limbs entangled in desperation.

You didn't want to surrender to the engulfing darkness, to succumb to the relentless assault on your senses, but the overwhelming exhaustion and the crushing weight of the smoke rendered you immobile. Each breath became a Herculean effort, a battle you were losing with every passing moment. In the suffocating grip of the inferno, the line between survival and surrender blurred, leaving you teetering on the precipice of oblivion.

With Steve's image haunting your thoughts, the anguish of imagining his devastation at your untimely demise propelled you to summon the last vestiges of your dwindling strength. Dragging yourself across the threshold of your bedroom, you managed to seal the door behind you, hoping to stall the relentless advance of the flames, if only for a fleeting moment.

But deep down, in the recesses of your consciousness, you knew the bitter truth—you were trapped, a prisoner within your own infernal tomb. The window, a beacon of salvation mere feet away, might as well have been miles distant, for in your weakened state, the prospect of reaching it was as futile as grasping at shadows.

Resigned to your fate, you surrendered to the inevitability of your demise, seeking solace in the feeble comfort of knowing you had tried, however futilely, to defy the merciless grip of fate.

As you lay upon your bed, eyes closed against the encroaching flames, a sense of grim acceptance settled over you. The searing heat, once a torment, now enveloped you in a macabre embrace, consuming you in a maelstrom of agony. Each lick of flame was a cruel reminder of your mortality, each scorching caress a testament to the merciless whims of destiny.

And then, in a cruel twist of fate, the pain ceased, leaving behind a deafening silence that reverberated through the void of your consciousness. In that final moment of clarity, as the flames claimed you as their own, the weight of unspoken words hung heavy in the air—an eternal lament for the love never declared, for the life never lived to its fullest potential.

Steve's frantic steps echoed through the sterile halls of the hospital as he raced towards the receptionist's desk, his heart pounding a frenetic rhythm of panic. Tears blurred his vision, his breaths coming in ragged gasps as he approached the woman behind the desk, his voice trembling with desperation.

His cry of your name reverberated off the walls, laced with a raw intensity that spoke of his deep-seated fear. He reached out as if to grasp onto something solid in the tumult of his emotions. "Where is she?!"

The receptionist, a bastion of composure amidst the chaos, rose from her seat with practiced grace, her movements slow and deliberate. With gentle hands, she attempted to steady Steve, her touch a fleeting anchor in the storm of his anguish.

"Sir, please, try to calm down," she implored, her voice a soothing melody amidst the cacophony of distress. She met his gaze with unwavering empathy, understanding the depth of his anguish.

But Steve was beyond consolation, his anguish too potent to be assuaged by mere words. "No! You don't understand!" His voice cracked with emotion as he pushed away from her gentle touch, his desperation palpable. "I need to know she's okay. Where is she?!"

The receptionist's expression softened, a silent acknowledgment of his pain. "She's in surgery," she replied, her tone gentle yet resolute. "The doctors are doing everything they can."

Though her words offered a glimmer of hope, Steve's heart still clenched with fear. He hung onto her every word, his breaths shallow and uneven as he waited for reassurance.

"But for now," she continued, her voice a soothing lullaby in the midst of his turmoil, "she needs you to take a deep breath and stay calm."

As Nancy stood on Steve's doorstep, her eyes glistening with unshed tears, her words seemed to echo in slow motion, each syllable weighted with a gravity that threatened to crush him. He listened in stunned silence, the world around him blurring into a haze of uncertainty and dread as he hastily grabbed his keys, his mind a whirlwind of fear and hope.

Driving to the hospital felt like navigating through a thick fog, his thoughts consumed by one singular prayer echoing in the recesses of his mind: "She needs to live." The words tumbled from his lips in a broken sob, a desperate mantra repeated over and over again like a lifeline in the darkness.

The hospital waiting room became his temporary sanctuary, a silent witness to the agony etched upon his features as he sat vigil, each passing moment stretching into an eternity of unbearable suspense. Visitors came and went, their concerned faces a blur as he mechanically recited the same refrain: "I don't know."

Hours stretched into an endless expanse of time, the rhythmic ticking of the clock a cruel reminder of the minutes slipping through his fingers like grains of sand. Exhaustion threatened to claim him, pulling at his eyelids like weighted anchors, but still, he remained, unwilling to abandon his post until he knew her fate.

And then, just as weariness threatened to engulf him, a voice pierced the silence, jolting him from the edge of sleep and back into the harsh reality of his uncertainty.

It was a nurse who had called your name out into the waiting room, waiting patiently by the door with a clipboard in hand.

Steve's heart leaped at the sound of those words, a surge of relief flooding through him as he declared himself her husband, a title that felt both surreal and achingly real all at once. The weight of those two words—her husband—pressed against his chest, filling him with a sense of purpose and belonging that he had never known before.

As the doctor delivered the news of her condition, Steve's mind struggled to comprehend the gravity of her injuries, each word landing like a heavy blow against his fragile hope. Severe third-degree burns, a long and painful rehabilitation process—the reality of her suffering threatened to overwhelm him. But amid the flood of information, one fact remained steadfast: she was alive.

Clutching onto that lifeline with all his might, Steve's trembling voice cut through the haze of his thoughts, a desperate plea to be near her, to see with his own eyes that she had indeed survived the ordeal.

"Can you take me to her?" His voice wavered, betraying the tumult of emotions raging within him.

"Of course, right this way," the doctor responded, his tone a beacon of reassurance amidst the chaos. With a nod of gratitude, Steve followed the doctor, his steps heavy with anticipation and trepidation.

As he approached her room in the ICU, anxiety gripped Steve like a vice, his heart hammering in his chest as he prepared to face the sight of her injuries. But in that moment, as he stood on the threshold of her room, the enormity of their love washed over him, a beacon of strength in the face of adversity. For even in the wake of tragedy, their bond remained unbreakable, a testament to the enduring power of love. And as Steve stepped into her room, ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead, he knew with unwavering certainty that together, they could overcome anything.

[jackass-jones]

Really into the episode of Ouran where this girl confesses her love to Mori but he doesn’t feel the same because he’s into Honey and the girl’s reaction is just like YIPPEE I LOVE YAOI THATS SO COOL FOR YOU YAY 🥰

[officialkendallroy]

FINALLY FINISHED THE PAPER!!!!!!!!!!

[anon-amiss]

home x reader (/j)

Beginning notes: Sigh. I absolutely hate that I am going to actually write a fully fledged oneshot for this and risk my sanity here as your punishment for this horrendous crime against Home.

My mind is just so completely shocked by your sentence, that my creative process was actually rendered null and void for a whole minute. Thank you, truly, for this tremendously traumatising request. If I had a brain, it would have shut down by now.

Personally, I don't know Home to be a romantic type... um.. house, so I will just write down what I think and have observed to be accurate. Wally will most definitely ban me from visiting him after this :'°]

But hey, it's all worth it to punish you for making me envision this travesty at all, so without further ado:

Home x Reader

(Homantic)

Warnings: Home x Reader

You yawned, sitting up in your bed and slapping yourself in the face for some much needed waking up. You were a little nervous, because today was the day.

You had been building up courage as much as you could for the past couple of days, and after much encouragement from your fellow neighbours and talking to yourself in the mirror, you finally did it! You asked out the blue-headed fool!

But much to my dismay, your crush was not the suave and endearing neighbour with the most dashing and entrancing eyes. No. You had a crush on Home. Ever since you laid sight on his beautiful roofed tiling and paned glass eyes, you couldn't help but think about him everyday. You don't know what was so captivating about him when you first saw him. Maybe you were an architect? An admirer for the bizarre? Who knows?? Maybe you were just a freak! But who am I to judge? I am just a muppet.

You communicated to Home just as any other neighbour would, and while it was hard understanding him at first, you both grew very close and got over the language barrier. Wally would still give you lessons in what he called "Homelish" from time to time, as a way of helping you communicate. You were still in the process of learning a lot though.

Even with your struggle however, you could still tell how excited he was to hear your proclomation of love for him. His chimney sent out plumes of smoke that were visible from miles away, and his creaking and knocking were centered everywhere around your feet. He was like an excited puppy getting a birthday bone.

These thoughts revisited your brain, only making you feel much more nervous than you already were. You shouldn't have been, admittedly. Home was actually really sweet. He never liked judging anybody and was always willing to overlook someone for any of their flaws... Like, having a crush on a house for example, but you just couldn't rationalize your fears away. What if you messed up? Or worse, what if he doesn't actually like you and was just trying to be nice?

You sighed, heading over to your closet with a now frazzled mind. You chose your best outfit, putting it on and checking yourself out in the mirror. If he didn't like you then, he would have to like you now. You looked dashing!

You smiled and adjusted youself before heading out of your house. It was bright and beautiful as usual. Butterflies and ladybugs scoured the fields around you, in search for refuge from the bright sun. Wally and gang were probably out having their picnic by now. Wally made sure to fill up the schedule in his day with fun activities so you could have as much alone time as you wanted with Home while on your date. It was very sweet of him.

You walked over to some flowers you planted nearby and plucked them from the soil. Julie, of course, helped you grow them. She was very ecstatic when she found out you finally asked Home on a date. She had to stop herself from planning your whole date from you, instead settling for giving you ideas on what you should gift the house.

You thought flowers would be beautiful, because honestly, you didn't know what else Home may have wanted. He always seemed content with everything and usually denied requesting anyone anything. He was pretty low maintenence in terms of gifts.

You assumed his love language was actually communication. The day Wally started teaching you Homelish, you could sense how much happier Home acted around you. You thought maybe this was because you were actively taking time out of your days to learn just so you could please him more.

You didn't know this, but Home was lovestruck to find out Wally was teaching you how to communicate better. He thanked Wally profusely each day for his kind effort and would constantly ask how you were doing in class. He just couldn't stop thinking of your consideration.

You didn't live too far from Wally, so you got there pretty quick. Home noticed your figure and waved you a greeting with his door. You smiled and hugged his walls.

"Hi, Home! Sorry if I took a little long. I wanted to look my best!" You exclaimed, showing off your outfit. He creaked in response, twisting his doorknob to make you notice his neatly tied bowtie. "Yeah! It looks dapper, I love it!"

Home tapped delightfully, noticing the flowers in your hand. "Oh! Yeah! I brought these for you! I wasn't sure what colour you might have liked, so I got one of every kind," you responded hesitantly. Home let out a few squeaks.

"I'm glad you like them!"

Home's window tapped, leading you to an empty flower bed. You smiled and nodded, moving some of the soil out of the way to plant the flowers. Once finished, you sat on the doorstep, asking Home about his day and various other questions about anything fun he did.

You learnt that he was actually preparing himself all morning, with the help of Wally and Sally. They gave him some new fresh coats of paint along with some little heart designs that seemed to wrap around his exterior walls. He actually seemed just as nervous as you were.

The two of you talked for the rest of the day until the sun began to set. Home was glad to have agreed to the date. He liked you for a long time, admiring you for your selfless acts of kindness and sweet demeanor. Even if you were mad, you still managed to keep a smile on your face. He watched you all the time, wanting to grow closer to you for the fact that you seemed different in a way he didn't understand.

You stuck out of place, but not for the reasons he thought. You looked like you belonged here, but everyone else just... didn't? It was a strange observation he'd made over the few months you had been here, but he did not try and question it. He just wanted to be happy that you were here at all.

As the sun bore into the horizon, you turned to home. "It's getting late. I'm going to head home now, but.." You hugged his walls and gave him a kiss. "This was fun. Let's talk again tomorrow?"

Home let out a delighted squeak. With that, you were off. You opened the door to your house, entering with a warm feeling in your heart. It was a good day. A great day. Fantastic.

Though...

A little strange.

The duration of your date went by quicker than you thought, almost like time just decided to skip forward, and... maybe you were just seeing things, but in the corner of your eye, you swear you saw someone watching you.

Someone was angry.

Angry for a reason I still don't understand. Jealousy? Maybe he just wanted to be in the story more.

Whatever reason it was, it didn't interfere with your request. He shouldn't have been able to watch you. He was supposed to be with his friends. He shouldn't have been able to move freely as the story continued.

But he still did.

End.

Ending notes: I would have written more, honestly, but I spent hours pacing around my room asking myself why I was doing this and what kind of date a house would even like?? I decided to just end it as quick as possible so I could get to some other great requests. Turns out even the most creative minds like mine have their limits!

Another note though, if you genuinely do have a crush on Home, I apologize haha. This is just a little joke fic, you can like who you want, and I'm sure he'd be more than happy to know someone likes him like that!

With that said, I will begin the other requests now. Thank you all for supporting me so far! :°]

I love you <3

[lilac-melody]

I came up with the absolute worst idea for a cactiflower fic