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blakeswritingimagines · 1 year ago

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Burn The House Down

Summary: Having to have you was always his main goal, as time passes and you change as people Aemond seems indifferent even during your big news.

Word Count: 3.7k

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

For years since you were children, you did your best to be kind to the Targaryen children no matter how odd they seemed, never noticing how Aemond always seemed to be around or that he was behind things falling apart in your life even when he was there to console you. But would continue on when something better seemed to take place in front of you. The older you got, the more you slowly but surely noticed how erratically and obsessive Aemond seemed toward things in his life but kept shrugging it off like it was nothing going about your day. Aemond had been secretly stalking you since a young age, watching you from the shadows, making sure you were always safe. When you both were children you could always catch him staring at you with that odd look in his eye, that burning obsession and curiosity as his fingers twitched waiting to touch you. As time went by, and you all became adults, you had started to notice him even more. He was always there somewhere close by. You noticed the odd things happening in your life, you did not know they were his own doing. He had a certain power over you and your life.

Aemond can recall each time you were quite kind to him during his formative years in the Red Keep. You always listened to his troubles, and his desire to leave and see the world. He remembered your kindness towards him even without a dragon, he can understand how you might have not noticed the attention he lavished upon you. You were often busy with matters of your own and he did not wish for you to worry about things, he tried to keep his feelings to himself as best he could when he could. He did not see his affection for you as erratic but rather focused on something he truly desired. You used to go visit him in the courtyard when you weren't busy with more important matters. You always seemed to have a lot in common even if it was Aemond altering himself to fit you better, but one thing that never changed was that he still kept following you, being close to you, and watching you with those lilac/sapphire eyes of his, that sparkled every time he turned his gaze on you always seeming to be studying you. You had only been a child when Aemond's strange obsessions started. But as your body changed into maturity, his interest in you changed as well. Aemond watched closely you growing into a young woman, your curves getting fuller, and he felt… things. Forbidden fantasies, desires. He was ashamed, of course. Naturally, he went out of his way to pray more often but he couldn't help it. You were his friend, yes. But also, you were something else to him. Though his intentions were not clear, it did not help that you saw Aemond as an older brother-like figure. However, there was always something that piqued your interest and intrigued you at the same time, the odd affection he had for you. You could not comprehend how someone could follow your routine for so long and not make a proper confession to you, or at least make a romantic advance which led you to believe he must've not cared in such a way. He wanted to know more about you the older you become. Your likes, dislikes, hopes, dreams, secrets, etc.

He always wanted to get closer to you and get to know you even better almost as if he wanted to lock you away and be the only one around you. One thing that stood out to Aemond was that whenever he would see you, you would always be kind and warm towards him regardless of his choices and decisions he would make. You seemed to genuinely care about him and his well-being. You never tried to pressure him to talk about his feelings or share any of his personal thoughts. Aemond had always appreciated this about you. You were someone he could turn to and trust. You noticed him again, just as you had when he was younger. In passing, you glimpse that same strange look in his eyes and recall all those times he was always near. You ponder what it could mean and wonder if maybe he still felt the same way. It worried you. Your duties and responsibilities keeping you busy but you can't help but wonder what Aemond is doing and if he is still watching over you. You had not forgotten about him. His attention and affection have not gone unnoticed.

That attention and affection were growing daily. It was all Aemond would think about when he first woke up or when he would fall asleep. His thoughts would be consumed with everything he could know about you, where you were, what you were doing, all of it. It got to the point where if he was not near you he felt lost. He always knew where your chamber would be, who your friends were, your favorite foods, your favorite cloth to wear, everything. He needed to be near you. You were the only person in this realm who truly made him feel this way, and he was unsure he wanted his feelings to go unanswered any longer. It was not uncommon for Aemond to keep watch over you, but he rarely made himself visible if he could help it. He was not one to reveal his own feelings but this was something different. He began to feel drawn to having you as his, like a magnet. He was constantly thinking about you, wondering when you would cross paths again spending more time together, hoping the next time you did he might muster up the courage to speak his truth. He knew you deserved to know how he felt. But how do you tell someone something like that without knowing if they feel the same?

He was obsessed with you. He needed you, and not just physically but emotionally. He wanted more than your body, he wanted your mind and soul. He would do anything to be close to you, to touch your smooth skin, anything to have you notice him. You were his muse, his everything. He wanted your attention, he wanted your love… he wanted you. Yes, his obsession with you had become his obsession to possess you. His life had become completely consumed by you even if he was capable of saving face in front of others. Nothing mattered to him except you. Nothing else had meaning to him anymore. He had to have you. The risk of rejection was too severe for him. He could never bring himself to reveal how he felt. But he had to make you want him. He knew that if he could just figure out what you desired in a partner, he could make you his and own you. The more obsessive and possessive he became, the more you seemed to become oblivious. You might never even think to look his way.

He could be near you or call on you, but that was not enough. He wanted more than that. He wanted you to be his and only his not enjoying when another held your attention. He wanted you all to himself. He spent hours dreaming of ways he could make you realize how he felt, how he needed you like he needed air in his lungs. He would even contemplate things he could do to make you jealous, just so that you would notice him and confront him. He had to confess his feelings or he would simply implode. If you felt the same way he could not wait another minute. If you did not… He would find a way to make you care enough about what would happen.

You often caught a glimpse of him in your peripheral vision. It started to frighten you a bit, wondering if someone knew your secrets. But you always ignored those thoughts even being comforted by the tall blonde male himself that he would look after you, reminding yourself daily that Aemond wouldn't do anything to hurt you. You continued going about your life, trying to forget your suspicions. One evening, you were walking back to your chambers when you felt someone's eyes on you. Turning around and seeing Aemond, watching you. He smiled at you nervously. You were about to walk away when he stopped you. He cleared his throat. He had prepared this moment in his head for so long. There was so much he wanted to say, he did not know how to begin. He was nervous and fidgeting but he was glad he had finally stopped you. He had prepared exactly what he wanted to say. He took a step towards you. “My lady. I… I have spent a long time in this castle. And in that time I have been watching you and there is something I must tell you.”

Your heart started to beat rapidly, almost painfully. You knew what he was going to say but you didn't want it to be true. You listened to his words silently, wondering what he had to say. Your face was a mixture of emotions. You were nervous but you were trying hard to hide it. You were afraid that if you let your guard down, he would see just how much power he wielded over you. "What do you wish to say, Aemond?" You asked softly, your voice barely above a whisper. You stood silently, listening to every word Aemond had to say to you. Your face was filled with emotions but you couldn't tell what those were, it was a mix of confusion and scared. You took a step back from Aemond, unsure of what to say or what to do. "You… what did you want to say?" You said while biting your lower lip nervously. Aemond's sudden approach surprised you, making you uneasy for some reason… You had never seen him so forward before, it wasn't like him. He stepped closer. He had to get this right. He took a deep breath and continued. “I-I… I wish to…” he stumbled a bit. He had to collect himself. “I have known you for a long time my lady, and ever since the day I first saw you my life has changed. Every time I look at you my heart beats faster. Every time you walk through these halls I have to stop myself from following you. My lady, I want… no… I need you. You are my everything."

You feel butterflies in your stomach at Aemond's words as he speaks of his feelings for you. You'd never heard something so romantic from anyone, let alone Aemond. You were speechless. Your mind was racing and you were not sure what to say. "Aemond..." You said while biting the inside of your cheeks, feeling overwhelmed by his confession. "I don't... I didn't expect this. I thought you... felt the way about someone else." You looked down playing with your fingers, trying to find the right words to say in return. “Do you… have someone else then, my lady?” He asked with a nervous expression on his face. He was not sure if he wanted to hear the answer to that question. He had to find out. But could he bear to hear you tell him that you loved another?! The thought of another man touching you, being embraced by your arms, kissing your soft lips was… it made him feel sick with jealousy and rage. No, why would you ever be interested in someone else? Surely he had to be your one and only.

“Darling…” he took a step even closer, you two were almost face to face. “There is no one but you. I dream of you, when I lay with those whores I close my eyes and see your face. You…” he paused. “You are perfect for me.” He grabbed your hand, his body trembling, nervous about your answer. “Please, say something. Tell me I’m wrong.” He whispered, his breath trembling. Aemond looked you in the eyes. “No. There has never been anyone else. How couldn’t I fall for someone like you? You are a beauty second to none. I do not deserve you for I am just a second son, just a prince. It is true I am the second son but you are my first love.” He held out his other hand. “Please, let me court you, my lady.” He said while holding back a smile. He was waiting for your response. Your thoughts were still racing, feeling confused and overwhelmed by Aemond's words and gestures at that moment. You look up at him, biting your lower lip as you tried to gather your thoughts. You didn't know what you should do or say but there was something Aemond's words brought to your mind a question you had been asking yourself for a while now. You looked up and met his eye, hesitating in what to say but you decided to just be honest. You took a deep breath and exhaled. "Aemond…" You said quietly. "I was wondering… do you truly love me?".

Aemond gulped. Could you truly be asking him that?! A question he had been dying to hear fall from your lips but could not bring forth. He was speechless, his mind racing, his heart beating faster than the drums of war. Was that your way of accepting his feelings? Or was that your way of turning him down? “Do I love you?” Aemond repeated the question. “My lady… I do not think I can love anyone else.” "Say it, Aemond." Your tone had become firm, as your eyes were looking straight at Aemond. There is no going back and you both knew it. "Say that you love me." You took a step closer to him, your face right in front of his. You wanted him to say it. "And mean it with all your heart." You spoke, putting your hands on his chest. You knew he was about to say it, you could feel it. He took a deep and nervous breath. You were so incredibly close to him. He could see your eyes, and hear your soft breath. He felt his heart racing and almost skipped a beat. He could not help but notice just how beautiful you were. But would he say the words? He paused and gulped. He had to say it. He had to mean it. He had to be true to his feelings or otherwise live with a regret worse than death. Aemond took a step closer placing his hands gently on your face and stared directly into your sparkling eyes. He had been dreaming of this moment. “I love you. I love you with all my heart.” The words just… poured out of him. His feelings had overcome him. He had no way of stopping them. There would be no turning back once he spoke them. But he had no choice. You deserved to hear the words. You deserved to hear how he felt. “I love you. I love you with everything that I am.” And he meant it. He meant every word.

You felt the coldness of your husband's touch after months of your marriage and knew things had changed. You knew something was wrong and wanted to have a word with Aemond about it only for him to keep sending you away. You confronted him late one night in your shared chambers, alone, with no one around. "Aemond, what happened to that sweet and loving man I once married?" You asked with a sad expression on your face while sitting on the bed watching him. You had noticed that Aemond was slowly becoming cold and distant towards you. You had noticed his behavior change ever since the wedding night when your marriage was consummated. He no longer looked at you the same way and didn't show any emotions towards you, almost as if he was trying to hide the marriage from the world. You had tried confronting him about this a few times before and he had no answer, only excuses and half-hearted replies.

Aemond was sitting in a plush black leather chair opposite his wife, trying to contain his emotions. He hated seeing you sad, he hated seeing you cry, it was like an aching pain that he could not shake. But he could not tell you. You had to know why he did what he did but how could he ever tell you. How could you ever understand? He had to keep his voice soft, his expression stern, he could not show emotion. He hated the thought of you finding out what he had done, it was the one thing he feared the most. “Oh, my dear wife.” Aemond took slow steps toward you. His movements were cold and unenthusiastic. “What has happened to me? I’m not sure. It is nothing to worry over my love. I am merely busy with my duties. The Realm needs me more than you.” He took his place on the bed beside you, looking away from his wife. Why were you being like this, always nagging him about the smallest things? Always making mountains out of molehills. He had important work to do, you had become merely a distraction. "Oh but, Aemond��" You said, slightly annoyed by his tone. "And why do you only love the realm? Is there no love left for me? Is that why you act like this? You are always alone with that cold and distant gaze. You once were sweet and loving but I am not so sure anymore if that man is still in you."

You were getting angrier the more you spoke since you've been having mood swings lately and could react to nothing. Standing up with your hands on your hips while you stared at him, not breaking eye contact. You wanted answers. "You are ignoring me, Aemond," you said, your voice growing sterner. You slowly approached your husband, stepping closer to him and resting your hands on his shoulders. "We hardly speak. You act as if I am not there. You use the excuse of duties to keep me away. But you don't want me. I know it and I can feel it… Tell me, Aemond, do you still love me?" You took a deep breath attempting to calm yourself. You looked so desperate, so vulnerable. Of course, you would ask him something like this in a situation like this. He looked up to you with a frown. He could not believe you would question his love for you. What would cause you to think such a thought?! “You silly woman.” He sighed. You were pushing his buttons. He could not bring himself to yell at you, but maybe that was what you needed. He knew what you wanted to hear. “Yes! I love… you. Happy?” There, he said it. He hoped that would shut you up.

Those cold words wounded you but you tried to keep your emotions in check. You had to fight the urge to give him a harsh word. You didn't expect Aemond to have grown cold to you. Taking a step back and sat back down on the bed, your voice sounding defeated. "Very." You finally replied. Your voice sounded soft as you tried to keep your composure together. You wanted to cry, you just didn't expect this. You were expecting to love your marriage to a handsome prince to a T. But you were wrong. Oh, how you were wrong… You didn't know what went wrong. You couldn't pinpoint the exact moment or reason. You didn't understand the whole situation, you could feel Aemond's coldness towards you and you knew that you had to do something but you just didn't know what. You were getting desperate.

You were walking through the halls of the Red Keep, as everyone was busy getting ready for the feast. You heard two lords whispering to each other as you walked past, one of them talking about you. “The Prince's wife has gained weight. She's nothing close to what she once was in her youth.” He whispered, referring to your younger years, as the other lord chuckled at the comment. “She is no longer a beauty in the sight of men,” said one of them. You couldn't believe the way the Lords and Ladies spoke to you. They mocked you behind your back, calling you the Prince's delight and a whore, all of it hurt you deeply. But to see your own husband do nothing to stand up for you… it hurt more than any insult you had ever heard. You couldn't believe it. You had never seen this side of him before. You heard the whispers behind you and felt hurt. You were not the person you once were, but was beauty the only thing these lords cared about? But alas, it was true. You had recently put on weight. It was hard not to let your lifestyle get to you. The constant feasting and your love of wine were catching up to you. You did not wish to turn, you did not wish to confront them, you wanted to be left alone. You wanted this day to pass by without any issues but knew you still had to appear beside Aemond and hopefully, he be in a good mood.

As the feast started, you were placed next to your husband Aemond, who looked bored throughout the entire event. He didn't acknowledge any of the guests, or you. The lords whispered about your weight gain, behind your back to anyone who listened. Your dress was tight and the whispers bothered you, making you self-conscious. You ate in small portions, not wanting to appear gluttonous. You took a sip of wine and your eyes spotted Aemond, who was staring at you. You knew it was time for an important statement to clear the air. "Aemond." Aemond froze. Hearing his name be spoken. He was speechless. He could hear the blood rushing in his ears and could see the lords whispering and chattering, but for some reason, he could hear nothing. He felt as if he was going mad. But he knew that his hopes were in vain. He looked up to you. The look on his face was one of no emotions. What did you want now? “Yes, my lady?” Aemond asked with his usual apathetic tone. You seemed to be speaking, but he could barely hear you from all the feasting and loud music. What did you want to say?

"I'm pregnant."

#aemond targaryen x reader #prince aemond #aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #hotd aemond #house of the dragon aemond #aemond x reader #aemond fanfiction #house of the dragon

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theetherealbloom · 2 years ago

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UNEVEN ODDS — CH. 2

Chapter Two: Roll Up Your Sleeves

Summary: The Reader is dragged into the Last of Us universe and has no choice but to watch the events unfold or will she be able to change what was already written?

Paring: Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Age-gap Romance, Violence, Angst, Fluff, Guns, PTSD, Depression, Anxiety, Swearing, Reader wants to sacrifice herself, Zombies, eventual SMUT, MY SCIENCE IS WONKY, probable plot holes, rusty writing

Word Count: 4.8k

A/N: Holy shit there are so many of you sjdfhgsk AHHHH thank you so much for all the notes and comments, I appreciate it! Here’s a little bit of info for you to understand a little bit of my thought process. In my outline, the reader is an Enneagram Type 9: The Peacekeeper. (This helps me add a little bit of depth to you so I don’t feel entirely lost when writing) if she seems “passive” or “complacent” it’s cause she wants everything to go smoothly and be without conflict. I’d like to believe there’s a little part of us that prefer to avoid tension, due to the fear of loss and separation from the people or things you love. I’ll go a little bit more in-depth about this in the story as it progresses. Hope you enjoy!

Song: evermore (feat. bon iver) by Taylor Swift

Previous Chapter -> Next Chapter | Series Masterlist

TLOU WORLD – 2023

BOSTON - NOON

You walk along the ruins of a long-abandoned Boston with an overpowering sense of dread. It feels like the build-up of a song in which you know the tune, the lyrics, and the beat. Strings of violins, drums, and bells ring and thump in your mind, unwanted and uncaring of how you feel. This curse of knowledge you never asked for but which you carry follows you as the four of you approach the Bostonian Museum. Creeper vines and Cordyceps grow on the sides of the building, marked by conspicuous veins and all-consuming every red brick of this once-beautiful structure.

The four of you stand outside the entrance of the museum. Cordyceps consume every part of the foundation, Ellie tilts her head to look up at it appalled, “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” You stand next to Joe, using your hand to rub your right eye, and mumble, “Shit.”

“Well, there’s a way across from the top floor,” Tess says while moving to place her hands in the pockets of her pants. Ellie sarcastically replies, “Well, then I guess it’s fine.” Tess reassures her by adding, “We use to take it all the time.”

Ellie answers, “Okay.” Joel leaves your side and approaches a dry vein of the Cordyceps, removing the rifle he stole from the FEDRA guard, he crouches and touches a part of it to check if it was still active. He swings downward, hits the vein with the butt of the gun, and a puff of dust releases from the dead fungi, he stands to walk over to Tess, “It’s bone dry. It could mean they’re all finally dead in there.”

Tess nods, then they both kneel to prepare their flashlights and weapons, just in case. You and Ellie watch them both rummage through their backpacks, “Oh, man,” the kid mutters.

Joel whips out a flashlight and waves it at Ellie, “Marlene pack you one of these or just sandwiches?” She removes her backpack, “Yeah,” and pulls out her flashlight. Joel looks to you, “Catch, hummin’ bird.” That was the only warning he gave you before tossing you the flashlight, “Luckily, I have a spare.”

You’re short of breath as you hear the nickname he gave you. Miraculously, caught it with both hands, and without even thinking you wink, “Thanks, cowboy.” Thankfully, no one says anything about your quip directed at him.

“Okay, so… more ground rules.” Tess announces and turns to Ellie, “We’re gonna go slowly. If we come up against anything you get behind us and you stay there, okay?” The young girl nods and wears her backpack, “Yes.” Tess brings out her handgun and flashlight, positioning her hands in a way that she can use both. Ellie glances at the gun she’s holding, “I have a spare hand.”

Joel is unamused by what she is insinuating, dryly replies, “Congratulations.” He walks forward with determination, he pokes his head through the door to do an initial check before turning around to nod at the three of you to signal it’s clear. Reluctantly, you follow them inside, your mind has kicked into overdrive, trying to figure out a way to get past this with zero casualties. If you sacrifice yourself, would that change the ending? Would it buy Tess a little more time? This might be your grand attempt to do something right and kind without assurance, without the promise of an afterlife.

Flashlights dance and shine around the walls of the abandoned museum, you watch your step and try to calm the beating of your heart as you look at the artifacts left behind. You navigate through the hallways and come across a corpse of an infected deceased. Joel shines his flashlight on the fungi, “Yeah, cooked.” Tess exhales, “Finally, some fucking luck.” Ellie steps a little closer to investigate the remains of what was once human, Joel continues, “I guess we should’ve gone this way in the first place.”

You were so caught up in trying to ground yourself in the reality of all of this, that this is actually happening, that you forgot to at least warn them about the Clickers they were about to face in a couple of moments. Just as Ellie was about to turn a corner, you whisper loudly to her, “Ellie wait!”

Too fucking late. “Oh shit,” Ellie exclaims with wide eyes, and Joel makes a move to inspect what she found. A dead bruised, bloodied, young man slouched against the corner. Ellie’s eyes were full of shock, “What the fuck did that?”

Joel and Tess look at each other knowingly, and you finally decide to speak up, for her and theirs, “Whatever you’re about to say or hope for, don’t bother.” The three of them turn to look at you and you decide to continue in an audible whisper, “I wasn’t sure if I could or should warn you, but we need to stay quiet from now on.” You gather your courage to look directly at Joel with an unwavering stare, “It’s exactly what you suspect it is.”

“Are you saying an infected did that?” Ellie whispers to the three adults, and she resumes, “Because I’ve been attacked by one and it wasn’t like that.” Joel looks at you and he can see the way your face twists, your lips curled downwards, and your eyes show your remorse and guilt, he whispers to everyone, “Okay, from this point forward we are silent. Not quiet. Silent.” Ellie looks at him concerned and confused, “What?” But Joel shakes his head, “No. No questions. Just do it.”

This is it. You think to yourself as you will your feet to move, continuing, you follow Joel and Ellie up the stairs with Tess trailing behind. You remember when you could cover your eyes to the scary moments of the show, you could press pause, or fast forward, not needing to witness and feel the distress and panic.

The quiet creak of each floorboard of the steps as your boots land on the rotting wood, it groans all of your weight and dust falls from the ceiling. You all stop silently, waiting for any indication of an infected discovering that all of you were in the museum. After a moment, Joel looks back at you, a silent way of asking if it’s okay, you throw him a bone and give him a tiny spoiler, then you nod at him. And all four of you continue up the stairs.

As you make the first landing of the steps, you shine your flashlight to meet a horrifying view. Multiple corpses of people who were infected with Cordyceps lay on the wooden floors. It’s unspeakable and all-consuming, the silence overwhelms your system, there is a sudden tightness in your chest, and feel a part of your mask slip, your eyes shift and move to look at the pile of bodies. Organs and parts that were once human, were scooped out and transformed into fungi.

Your mouth opens silently, quivering as you do, and you lightly shake your head. Joel steps over the rotting fungi, just as you were about to grab Ellie and warn her about what she couldn’t see, you were too late. Again. A satisfying crunch could be heard throughout the building and you squeeze your eyes shut in fear for a moment then you reopen them. Joel whips around to look at Ellie with annoyance, the kid gives him an apologetic look.

Thankfully, you managed to make it up the steps with no more issues. Joel slowly opens the door to Independence Hall, and the wood gives a quiet creak. He quickly scans the area before deciding to nod at all of you, telling you it’s clear.

With your foresight and knowledge of events that had already happened in your time, you decide to act accordingly and give a hard shove to both Tess and Ellie inside the Hall and quickly follow after, gravity takes place and parts of the museum collapse, pieces of wood and cement block the doors. You were trapped.

Tess and Ellie push themselves off the ground, but you take a little longer to get up. You scraped your arms and hands, and the pain in your head came back. Joel quickly and quietly helps Ellie up then realizes you haven’t moved yet. He immediately makes his way to you, lightly shaking you to get up, you blink back the blurry black spots that are forming in your eyes and stand up with his help, both of his hands on the underside of your forearms.

You squint and slowly look up at him, and for what felt like a second, you see the worry that lines his face. Concern and need to protect you, even though you’re just a stranger. The moment doesn’t last long, you hear the familiar sound of screeching in the room adjacent to you. Flashlights shine in the direction of the noise and you hold your breath as all of you walk backward, keeping your eyes on the monster that emerges from the shadows. The twitchy movements are followed by the croaky noises of the infected, it tries to navigate, searching for its next prey. And on queue, the other Clicker screeches, indicating that there are two of them. This is no longer a museum, it’s a fucking horror house and all of you are in for the worst experience of your life.

You are now surrounded by predators, and prey, playing a twisted game of hide and seek. You press your back against the glass of the cabinet, Tess to your right, Ellie to your left, and Joel being the farthest left. He gestures to his eyes and ears, quietly mouthing, “They can’t see, but they can hear.”

The creature groans and croaks, clicking sounds from its throat. It’s right behind the glass, your eyes drift to the monster and see its jerky movements. You bring your eyes to look at Joel, he lifts his pointer finger to his lips, indicating to be incredibly still and silent. Fear is the darkness and the unknown, a hard-to-shake feeling, it overstays its welcome and leaves you panting.

Tess watches the monster make its way around the corner, limping and shaky. Ellie closes her eyes to try and control her breathing, and you get yourself ready for the fight you never wished for. ‘Why is it always so fucking dark?’ You wonder inside your head, The Clicker comes into view, and you hear an audible gasp come from Ellie. Shit.

The creature turns in your direction at full tilt, mouth wide open with its yellowing teeth, and gives the loudest high-pitch screech. Joel sprays bullets into the Clickers’ chest, but it fights back, he looks in your direction and yells out, “Run!”

The second clicker begins to sprint toward you and Tess shoots at it but the bullet misses. Tess grabs Ellie by the arm and drags her away, while you run with them. The four of you get separated, Tess trips and so do you and Ellie, she yells out to tell her, “Run… Run!”

Ellie crawls her under a table and finds her way out, while the Clicker runs after Tess. You are now at a crossroads, Joel is running at the other end of the exhibit while Tess heads in the opposite direction. You swiftly make a split-second decision and duck, right behind Ellie under the table, however, you do not crawl away, instead, you wait for the Clicker to run by you and quietly get up to follow after Tess. This is your chance to make things right, to ensure she doesn’t get bitten. Will this cost you your life?

You grab an ax hanging from the wall and run to the other side of the room, you hold it with both hands and feel the sweat coating your skin. You turn a corner and see Tess pinned up against the wall, the creature feasting on her neck, your heart drops to the bottom of your stomach, and you let out a scream, “No!”

The creature quickly turns and shrieks at you, angry for interrupting its meal, now it begins sprinting towards you, and the adrenaline pumps into your bloodstream and system. The anger starts to flare in your chest, the silence grows louder along with the ringing in your ears. You stand unwavering and with the courage that has been asleep for so long, it awakens at the right time.

Aiming directly at its head, you throw the axe with everything you have. It lands on a portion of its mushroom-infected face. Yet, it only slows the creature down a second, screaming and swinging its long mutated arms, and tries to locate you, but, it hears the commotion in the other room, loud pops of a revolver can be heard and you assume it’s Joel killing the other Clicker.

The abomination of what once was human turns and screeches at Joel and Ellie, it scampers towards them and you feel the pulse in your veins like a fighter, you fight the fear and let the rush take over, you sharply glance at the handgun Tess had dropped during the chaos and without hesitation, you pick it up and pray it still has some bullets in the chamber.

This was a skill you wished you never had to use. All those days in the range were just a precaution, the world is not kind to women, and you learned to protect yourself just in case. It meant only using a gun when you or the people you loved were in danger.

Using one hand, you swiftly remove the safety with your thumb, aim, and shoot at the head of the Clicker. With three loud pops and then a fourth one for good measure, the monster falls to its knees and on the ground.

Dead.

Blood oozes from the infected’s head, and you stand there watching the crimson splatter grow larger. Tess appears from the archway and takes in the vision before her. You turn to aim the gun at her, your fight instincts kick in, still high from the adrenaline, and you stand there breathing heavily.

Joel yells out your name. You blink once, then twice. A beat passes, and you don’t register Joel approaching you in a calm slow manner, his arm stretched out with his palm facing you, treating you as if you were a frightened animal, now he places his hand on top of yours, a touch so gentle you barely register it. Carefully and steadily he takes away the gun in your hand and turns the safety on before handing it to Tess, which she slowly takes, while you let it happen.

Your vision is blurry and tries to swallow away your guilt. You were too late. You couldn’t save her. Joel says your name again, he’s in front of you now, his frame covering and protecting Tess, but he has replaced the gun you once held, with his hand. Ellie watches the events unfold from the side, not wanting to create any more noise or movement. He squeezes your hand and whispers, “It’s okay… It’s okay.”

It’s not, but his voice brings you back anyway. You look to Tess, your eyes full of sorrow, and your voice quivers as you speak, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” Tess nods knowingly, she swallows her pride and sadness to say, “It’s okay. You tried… um, thank you.”

Her words completely snap out of your trance, and you see the world a little clearer now. You nod back at her, then bring your eyes to Joel, who is still holding your hand. His eyes dance around, observing and taking note of every detail of your face. You’re the first to break the staring contest, realizing that Tess doesn’t have a lot of time. You step back away from him, dropping his hand, “We should get going.”

Joel turns to Tess, “You all right?” She nods, “Twisted ankle, but yeah.” She limps over to Ellie, “You all right?”

“Well, I didn’t shit my pants, so…” Ellie says and pulls up the sleeve of her jacket to reveal a bite from the infected. “You fucking kidding me?” she exclaims and turns to look at Joel, “I mean if it was going to happen to one of us.”

Tess stays silent at that, glancing at you to keep your mouth shut. You give a discreet nod in response, Tess calls out to Joel, “Hey. Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

Joel pushes the window up and opens, stepping out onto the roof, Ellie follows and you do too, leaving Tess for last, who plops down to rest her ankle, “Fuck.”Joel kneels and opens his pack to give Ellie a bandage, “Put this around your arm.” She takes it and says, “Thanks.” You watch as Ellie makes her way to a wooden plank, makeshift bridge, “Over there?” Joel glances over while continuing to fuss over Tess, “Yeah, I know it looks scary.”

“That was scary. This is wood.” Ellie states and proceeds to walk across the wood plank to get to the other building’s roof. Joel watches in disbelief and hollers, “Just wait there. Give us a minute.” He turns to look at you, “Can you go make sure she’s…” You only nod, knowing that Joel and Tess need to talk, you look at the wood plank they call a bridge and mumble to yourself, “If the way I die is falling from a high place, so be it.”

You walk across with no problem and catch up to Ellie, “Hey,” you say as you stand by her and take in the view. “What happened to you back there?” Ellie asks, the wind blowing strands of hair away from her face. You huff, “I don’t know. The adrenaline took over, I guess.”

You both stand in silence now, then you can hear the heavy footsteps of Joel walking up to the right of Ellie, she merely glances at him and then turns back to see the State House in the distance, glittering under the sunlight. “Is it everything you hoped for?” Joel asks her, Ellie blinks but answers him, “Jury’s still out. But, man you can’t deny that view.”

You hear Tess approaching from behind, eager to keep moving, “Come on, let’s get there before it’s dark.” She turns and then climbs a ladder down, letting out a groan of pain no one question or brings up. Joel nods at Ellie to follow Tess which he does, you look at Joel as Ellie climbs down. And you held his gaze for a moment, then look to his broken watch, before climbing down after the young kid.

Leaves crunch with every step you take, Tess lightly limping ahead, she turns to look at you, and you could only stare back. Tess looks straight ahead once more, and you can’t help but wonder about the violence of the dog days and what could get you through this. You see the State House from a distance, a hauntingly beautiful sight, creeper vines growing on the pillars and sides of the edifice.

The group decides to hide behind an abandoned car near the state house, and immediately could tell that something was very wrong, “Where the fuck are they?” Tess harshly states, Joel, shakes his head and decides to go check the truck parked outside by the steps of the ruined State House.

Joel walks over cautiously to the door of the truck, he swings it open to aim his rifle at it, only for the seats to be empty. Joel sees the blood splattered on the sides of the door, and turns to mouth at you all, “Stay back.” He rounds the side of the truck and notices a recently deceased, he continues to the back of the truck, swinging the giant blue metal doors, to confront no one.

You follow Ellie and Tess as she demands, “Joel, what the fuck is going on?” Joel shakes his head, “I don’t know.”

No longer wanting to play along, you look down to see a trail of blood up the steps and into the State House, you hear someone call your name, but say nothing as you walk up to the doors of the building. You push your way through, briskly walking to the center of the structure, and you take a good look at the multiple dead people scattered on the ground. You shake your head and close your eyes, “Fuck.”

You hear the three come in after you and they notice immediately what happened, Tess goes into a panic, “Okay. I mean there’s gotta be a fucking radio or something, right?” She proceeds to open the kit boxes that contain nothing but supplies, searching for anything that could help them win.

“Who killed them? FEDRA?” Ellie asks, and you reply, “No,” you nod to the man on the ground, Joel rolls him over with his boot and you continue, “One of them got bit. The healthy ones fought the sick ones. Everyone lost.”

Joel’s nostrils flared as he stared at you, “You knew? You knew and didn’t even bother to warn us that this was all for nothin’?” You raised your chin, “They were already dead hours before we got here.” His jaw clenched while you stood, fists clenched by your sides, and rolled your shoulders back, glaring at Joel.

Joel calls out to Tess, “Tess, what are you doing?” She ignores him and approaches Ellie, “Where did Marlene say that she was taking you?” Ellie responds unsure, “Uh, I don’t know. Just west.”

“Just west. Fuck. okay. Well, I mean, one of them’s gotta have a map on them, right?” Tess then goes to search one of the deceased Firefly’s pockets, “Joel, can you help me?”

“No.” He fumed, “Tess, it’s over. We are going home.”

“That’s not my fucking home!”

You let the exchange happen, while you move to one of the kits to retrieve a handgun, some ammo, and a small first-aid kit, and steal a backpack sitting on top of the chairs to shove all your supplies inside. Then, you hear Tess say the words you knew would happen, “I’m staying. I mean, our luck had to run out sooner or later.”

“Fuck.” Ellie whispers, “She’s infected.”

Tess sighs, and Joel’s eyes hardened and narrowed into slits, “Show me.” She takes a step forward and whispers his name, only for him to take a step back. Tess then steps back, anguish splashes across her face, then pulls the collar of her shirt and jacket, to reveal the growing infection on her neck, “Oops, right? And don’t bother taking it against her,” Tess gestures to you, “She did everything she could to save me, but I guess fate had already cut my string.”

Joel takes in a breath of disbelief while Tess looks to Ellie, “Take your bandage off.” Which she does to reveal no evidence of infection, just a new scar on her forearm to add to her collection. Tess makes her way to Ellie and holds her arm, “Look. Joel? This is real.” She drags Ellie closer to him, “Joel, she’s fucking real.” Her grip suddenly becomes twitchy and she wills her hand to stop shaking and hides it behind her back, she stares directly into the eyes of whom she once loved, “I need you to get her to Bill and Frank’s.”

Joel is shaking his head as he replies, “No.” But Tess continues to speak, “They’ll take her off your hands. They’ll handle it from here.”

“No… I can’t. They won’t take her. They’re not gonna take her.” He says and you watch each part you knew to unfold, Tess whispers to him, “They will because you’ll convince them. Yes, you will. I never ask you for anything. Not to feel the way I felt…”

“No.” He stubbornly states, but Tess lets the tears stream down her face and exclaims, “Now, you shut the fuck up because I don’t have time.”

He grants her request and listens, “This is your chance. You get her there. You keep her alive and you set everything right. All the shit we did.” Joel shakes his head as Tess begs, “Please say yes, Joel. Please.”

Despite the somber mood, a screech from one of the corpses has come to life and taken its revenge on the living, Ellie screams out, “Oh, fuck!” But your reaction time is faster this time, and you no longer hesitate as you walk towards the parasite, remove the safety of the gun and shoot it point blank in the head. Joel comes up behind you, and takes notice of what you’re staring at, the Cordyceps patch has awakened the rest of the infected and you hear the croaks and shrieks from outside of the State House.

Joel runs up to one of the doors to check how many are on the way, he shuts the door and locks it after making out the horde approaching. “How many?” Tess asks, Joel walks past her, “All of ‘em. Maybe a minute.”

Tess takes one of the rifles off of the floor and uses the butt of the gun to remove the lid on the fuel barrels. She pushes it to the floor, and the clear yellow liquid pours out of it and coats the floor. You help and do the same to the other barrel, knowing how this will end for Tess. “What are you doing?” Ellie asks, watching you and Tess scatter grenades on the ground, “Making sure they don’t follow you.”

Tess then approaches Joel, breathless and shaking, “Joel. Save who you can save.”

He clenches his jaw and his nostrils flared, angry, confused, upset, everyone he ever loved leaves or dies. He stares at her, soaking in her image as much as he can, and then he makes his decision. He quickly grabs Ellie by the arm and drags her away, her protests can be heard as it fades away around the corner, she punches his arm to try and break loose but he’s much stronger, “No! We’re not leaving her! Get off me, you fucker!”

Tess says your name and you turn to face her, “You weren’t lying? About the whole different universe thing?” You can only shake your head in response, hoping she can see your heart breaking into pieces.

Tess hums and gives you a small smile, “Take care of them for me, please? Especially Joel. Stubborn as a mule but you’ll learn to love him, just like I did.” You decide to grant the woman her dying wish, you nod and whisper, “Goodbye, Tess.”

You turn to run and didn’t look back, pushing out of the wooden doors, while tears stream down your face slightly obscuring your vision. But you manage to catch up with Joel and Ellie, as you did, the blast from the State House is sudden and loud. The smell of burning kerosine fills the air and you turn to look back at the raging fire, Joel turns and points his rifle at the area, ready to shoot just in case, only to hear screeching and the infected burning on the steps of the building.

You stare and one-half of your senses silently wish Tess would walk out, but you can no longer rewind, she’s gone. Ellie pants, trying to catch her breath, tears rimming her eyes and Joel lowers his rifle to turn away from the roaring flames. You and Ellie turn to watch his lone silhouette walk away from you both.

A/N: WELL that’s the end of Episode 2! Lowkey was fighting invisible demons to get this chapter edited and out bcs I wanted to improve on describing movement, anger, sorrow, etc. IT WAS EXTREMELY DIFFICULT T^T but I hope I didn’t disappoint ya’ll <3 ALSO YEP MHM TAGLIST! Send me an ask so I can add ya! It’ll stay open for a tiny period of time so send away :D

I’m proud of you for doing the right thing by trying to save Tess! Even though we all know you secretly admire Joel and would have chased after him to ensure his safety with Ellie. hehehehehe

Yes, the reader only knows everything up to Episode 3, meaning she has no clue about the rest of the show! She knows (most) parts of the video game but alas we know Television series like to change things so she’s lowkey fucked lol

I LIVE FOR YOUR COMMENTS ya’ll crack me up and have the best reactions. Thank you for your support and love. I’ll try and get the next chapter out soon!

-Grace

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crow-stars · 1 year ago

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❝The Kingdom of Roses is so beautiful at this time of year. A visit should be in order to this orderly kingdom. Wouldn't you say, my friend? Ah, now, now, calm your gluttonous nature, we have business to do.❞

Riddle pinches the bridge of his nose, a heavy sigh leaving him. He can already know this will be a headache that plagues him for days, only to leave about a month afterward. The paper crinkles a bit under the Thorned King’s gloves, a report detailing the crop yield of the year.

Even if Riddle thoroughly planned and was meticulous in choosing the best methods of farming, no one can control the threshold of rain. This year’s crops were growing slightly better than last year’s, but it wasn't enough to feel safe about. Steel gray eyes roamed over to the royal advisor, who was adjusting his glasses as he awaited a response from his king.

“Tell me the quality of soil. Perhaps it isn’t fertile enough.” Riddle mused as he put the paper on his desk, leaning forward as he folded his hands together.

Trey shook his head, hand behind his back and posture straight. “No, the people have reported that the soil is perfect for farming, but their crops just aren’t growing enough.”

This got a groan from the king, sighing heavily. He looked out the window, eyes narrowing at the darkening sky. It indicated that he should be sleeping soon, but here he was, awake and attempting to deal with this issue before it became a crisis.

He had no idea how this was possible. He was diligent in figuring out the best methods for crop yield and chose the best strategies to fit the quality of soil that his kingdom had. Riddle was exhausted, mentally and physically. There was no rule that could change the earth and that only frustrated him more.

Shifting in his seat, Riddle looked to Trey once more, speaking in a firm tone.

“What do the people say?”

“They’re nervous, that’s for sure.” Another thing to worry about. “Duke Cater says that some citizens are thinking of creating a petition to get help from the other kingdoms.”

The soft grumble from the king indicated he didn’t like this idea. Trey shelved it in the far back in his mind. Contacting other kingdoms would be the very, very last plan to resort to. Coughing into his fist, Trey spoke again.

“Though, I have been hearing stories of a cleric from the Ramshackle Village over in the Wastelands.”

Riddle hums lightly, eyebrows raised a tinge. “Ah, yes. I remember hearing something like that the last time I met with the other kingdoms.”

He tapped a finger against the desk, looking ahead at Trey, but eyes not focused on the advisor.

A small village being rebirthed from the ashes with the help of a generous cleric. No one knows where they came from or their intentions, but their help is appreciated by the people of the village. There float rumours that this cleric can harness the and tame the monsters of the Wastes and employ the help of these feral creatures, already some tales of them restoring the barren soil back to health.

Riddle scoffed when he first heard this from Cater. It felt almost unbelievable. Ramshackle Village was long desolate and many had already moved away from that horrid place or died trying to defend it. The only people there were ghosts of people past or those too stubborn to leave their birthplace. So, to hear that some mysterious cleric had popped up and began revitalizing the village, even so much as employing monsters from the Wastes. It sounded like some fairytale a bard had spun.

But then it was brought up again by the King of the Burning Sands, who had told the tale of a cleric from Ramshackle Village asking him for an audience a few days after the meeting. That man had no lying or mischievous bones in his body, akin to the overbearing sun from his homeland when it came to his cheery disposition. So Riddle was inclined, though more like forced, to believe that this cleric was real and not some tall tale.

The sun had finally lowered below the horizon, the sky streaked with the last streaks of warm orange and royal purples. The rest of the sky was painted an inky blue, the color of the deep sea where more dangerous aquatic creatures lurked. Dots of white sprinkled across the sky like small jewels, either shining brightly or dimmer than the ones around it.

Riddle sighed heavily again. It felt like he’d run out of breath by now, yet he still had enough breath to sigh more and more. His eyes met with Trey’s, gloved fingers rubbing at his temple.

“Trey.”

“Yes, my king?”

“Arrange to meet with this cleric. I’d like to employ their services. And have Duke Cater get some more information before the cleric comes.”

Trey nodded and bowed to Riddle before leaving the room. The door clicked shut and Riddle was left to his own thoughts in his office.

He stands up to look out the window to his darkening kingdom. A few lights were still on, some shops were still in the process of closing and a few people were still wandering about the streets. The sight of those people, Riddle’s people, looking so content and peaceful made the king smile.

A cleric from the Wastelands, specifically Ramshackle Village, revitalizing a formerly desolate village. No one knows where they came from, their origins, birthplace, or even the extent of their powers. All that Riddle knows is that this person could help his kingdom.

#✎haunted books✎#briarvalleyarchives #♔twisted kingdoms♔#twisted wonderland #twst #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #twisted wonderland writing #twst writing #my writing #riddle rosehearts #twst riddle rosehearts #twst riddle #riddle rosehearts twst

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xoalyco · 9 months ago

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I saw - yesterday. I’m not sure how I feel about it. Is it finally our turn? Did we wait long enough? Are we mature enough now? We laid in bed talking about the love we once had for each other. He actually started it by saying, “you are my one true first love.” And it’s true. We were so young and irresponsible with this strong connection. No one can blame us really and we can’t blame ourselves because we didn’t know better. We didn’t know what we had it was the first time we ever felt that way. We didn’t know what we had. Or did we. I’ve never been so romantic and cheesy with anyone else, of course I had boyfriends before him but he was different. I wanted to express my love in every way possible through my body, words, and letters. I can remember nights we would take his moms blue jeep up the mountain. We would pull over on the side of the road and crawl onto the top just to get a better view of the stars. I imagined a life with him, secretly I still do. I wonder if I always will or if my thoughts will become reality. He said to me, “we are going to grow apart, grow up, and we will come back together. I know it.” His confidence in this statement haunts me to this day. I brought it up when I saw him yesterday, I asked if he meant it back then. He replied, “yes.” I followed up with a, “what about now do you still believe it?” Forgive me I don’t remember his exact words because I was so astonished by what he said, “look at us right now. You are one of the best people I’ve ever meet I’ve always been into you. I think you are exactly what it means to be an embodiment of a woman.” Embodiment of a woman. I’ve never been told that. I don’t really feel like a woman yet. But this made me feel very empowered. I want whoever I’m with to see me this way. We laughed and talked about the horror stories of living with our exes (which was very therapeutic btw). Truthfully it hurts to think he was so serious about that girl that they decided to live together but that’s what you do at this age I am too guilty. He gave me the rundown on his family and the things that have changed them followed it up by saying, “trauma dump.” Which I thought was hilarious. I appreciated it though. I live for the deep talks like that and connection I crave it. I’m glad he is mature enough to talk about it. Of course we had sex too. It’s like our bodies were made for each other. They fit perfectly and know just exactly what to do, how much to do it, and where to do it at. It’s mutual. It’s enjoyable and honestly I’m not even into sex like that. But once again it’s different with him. I didn’t want to leave and he didn’t want me to either so I didn’t. I basked in the moment. We held each other like no time had passed. We played one round of darts in his room which we tied and he wouldn’t play again because he said, “I’ll never move those darts so a part of you will always be in this room, but you don’t even know what the picture was that was behind the board.” Which was weird but whatever. I went to take my makeup off and he came in the bathroom to pee I asked if he wanted me to blow out the candle since we were about to sleep (It was a weird candle like one you get from a crystal store with no smell and mother Mary on it) he said yes so I did and he said, “got you twice.” Which I also don’t know what he meant. Then he talked about how he wants me to have his children which was weird. We went to sleep then the next day woke up and went downtown for coffee. We matched with our new balances on. When we walked in the coffee shop I felt proud to be there with him secretly I wanted everyone to notice. Then we got sushi naturally he ordered for me. We sat in the back booth at oishi and tried each others sushi rolls. It was so nice and pleasant. We were laughing having great conversation. I didn’t feel like I had to be any other way than myself around him. I felt calm. We went back to his house and he let me pick his profile pic on the game and we watched a movie. I had already seen it but I was just enjoying being there.

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wcrriorhearts · 7 months ago

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She allows Baela to read through the letters and skim over the many requests and news shared in them to see what the people in the Seven Kingdoms expect from their rulers. Some requests are reasonable, many are not. Nonetheless, it is on her to select and reply to them all, finding the right words whenever a request is denied. She could let someone else do this duty, but it is important to Rhaenyra to know first hand what moves her subjects. Only then will she be able to create a kingdom in which most - if not all - can flourish. "As the future Queen of this Kingdom, I will leave this task to you. Jaehaera dislikes her chambers, because they are, according to her, dull and unreasonably tiny. She also believes there is a ghost haunting them, so we need find the girl new accommodations. Perhaps closer to her wretched grandmother. I wish for her to be the happiest she can be under the given circumstances and not feel like a prisoner, but like a part of this family. The animosities between the older members of our bloodline may never fully end, but the next generation doesn't have to follow in our footsteps."

The letter is handed to Baela as well, in the hopes she will find a room Jaehaera will like. The girl is her relation too, after all, albeit part of a family Daemon's children rarely came into contact with. If they want to change the future, they will have to bridge this divide and become one again, which starts with their children growing up as the cousins they're supposed to be. "Yes, Jace has a tendency for perfectionism and I truly don't know where he gets that from. Neither your uncle, nor me, nor Daemon has ever displayed it to that level. But I appreciate him being eager to learn and doing his best. Given I raised him, I have no doubt in my mind that he will do very well when the time comes. He has always been generous and kind and willing to help anyone, yet strong and stubborn when he needs to be. All qualities that will make a good King. But let us not speak of duties any longer. It is hard enough that we have to follow them every day outside these chambers, but in my private life I'd like to leave them behind. It's a rule that no political talk happens once we enter these chambers, otherwise your father would be constantly brooding and scheming. How's your dragon?"

They truly were helping each other building a relationship that would be good for them both in the long run. They would help each other learn and grow and one day she knew Jace would be a good King. She was grateful to be at his side for all of it she loved him and being at his side mattered more than anything. Truthfully she doubted she would ever do a half-decent job as his Queen but she would try for him. "We are trying anyway. It is... exactly what the two of us needed I think." The ways they were different seemed to complement the other and vice versa.

She looks at the letters briefly scanning over small sentences here and there. When the Queen hands her some letters she begins to read them. As she starts to she tenses up a bit at the mention of children. It was said so easily in conversation she could have missed it were it not for the deep fear she had of pregnancy and childbirth. Given her mother's many problems with it no one should be surprised how daunting the task seems to Baela. "Of course yes." She says quietly trying to make herself seem calm. "I am happy you could find the time to sit."

Baela can no longer read letters her heart is racing in her ears and she is trying to mask her feelings with a calm outward appearance. So she sets the letters down has a seat and nods. "He is eager to learn. You know Jace... he wants to know how to do it all so he can perfect it before the time comes that he does it all himself." She says with a small smile before picking up her cup of tea.

#ɪ ᴄᴀɴ'ᴛ sᴀᴠᴇ ᴜs ᴍʏ ᴀᴛʟᴀɴᴛɪs ᴡᴇ ғᴀʟʟ ( House of the Dragon ) - Rhaenyra Targaryen #ᴛʜᴇ ʟᴏᴠᴇʟʏ ʙᴏɴᴇs ɢʀᴏᴡɴ ᴀʀᴏᴜɴᴅ ᴍʏ ᴀʙsᴇɴᴄᴇ ( queue )

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ivesambrose · 3 years ago

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♕ 𝓜𝓲𝓭𝓪𝓼 𝓽𝓸𝓾𝓬𝓱 : 𝐌𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐋𝐮𝐱𝐮𝐫𝐲 ♕

1. 2. 3.

Yes, this is a long one. Why? I want y'all to prosper that's why.

Pick a picture that evokes a strong emotion in you and if all of them call to you, so be it. Do not limit yourself.

To book a personal reading with me DM or email me at [email protected] with your name and query.

You can book this particular pick a card question or any book one from this list.

Tips are highly appreciated 🤎

1. Golden snakes

Your definition of luxury : is to follow one's bliss and get whatever the heck you want. 'I want it, I will most certainly get it.' and you likely do.

You're more than open to face adversity and some challenges just so you can use your wits and determination to solve them in order to enjoy the fruits of your labour. To you, luxury is something you'd want to build long term. For instance, saving up money in order to get that one thing from your wishlist and smiling proudly to yourself like, "I did THAT. I really did THAT."

You believe in delayed gratification instead of instant gratification. You have certain values and morals in life that has come either via, a mentor you've looked up to, by re-parenting yourself or by building and achieving something by yourself from scratch. Regardless of your age you have a lot of wisdom that you have saved for yourself and select few. You don't claim to be a know it all nor are you the kind to give a Ted Talk on your journey. You don't want to share said journey, you simply want to do things that excite you without feeling bogged down by 'hustle culture'. You believe in gatekeeping yourself

Your ideal luxurious life : is likely to be known, accomplished, popular, magnetic yet secretive.

You may want an empire of your own but instead of making people work under you, you want to either guide or influence them. You want multiple things and some.

You seek to leave behind a tumultuous time, place or situation seek your own adventure. You may even want to leave behind your hometown and find your calling elsewhere. Your ideal luxurious life includes freedom, peace and excitement. Although you have lived your life so far with a particular idea of how to manifest wealth and luxury that is through hard work and you may also have faced delays, obstacles and several difficulties along the way you want a change from this mindset. Ideally, sometimes you crave that instant gratification too. Thing is, if you desire it, you'll have it. Deep down, you know you will.

Best way to manifest :

Gratitude journal

Even affirmations like,

"luxury loves me / money loves me" "I am__", "I always have __," "it is mine."

Your words and persistent thoughts indeed manifest quick. There is power in them, honor it.

You may have a close friend who is also big on manifesting and see eye to eye with you / you both share similar beliefs. So picturing telling them about having manifested luxury or wealth is also a great way to manifest.

Visualizing yourself being congratulated or receiving what you desire

You will most likely build your luxury by working one on one with people, networking with the right people, helping or influencing the right people, being in the right place at the right time, maintaining harmonious and honest connections. Be mindful of the company you keep because this influences your mindset the most, make sure you're not absorbing the projections of other people and their beliefs that you don't want manifesting in your reality or influencing you in ways you do not want.

2. Golden crown

Your definition of luxury : is to put down the burden of all the definitions and ideas that have been told to you growing up of what what life, wealth, career and luxury is supposed to be. You don't want to hoard, you just want to have enough.

I think you may feel over saturated with information or what you may be currently doing so you simply want to leave it behind. You believe there is more to life than slaving away and accumulating something you can't share. You may feel a bit like an outcast due to these ideals and maybe these perceptions will change in a few years or a decade but right now you simply want to live and form said perceptions by yourself. I just sense that you're tired and haven't gotten a break so your ideal of luxury is a career you can likely do remotely and not make it your entire personality and sole reason of being. You'd rather sit down and observe the beauty in the mundane or little things you missed out on. Infact if you could go offline and just live without seeking validation it'll be ideal for you.

Your ideal luxurious life : Is to stop chasing anything including luxury. You don't want to chase and endlessly work you just wanna have, cuz I feel you have put in ample amount of work but haven't received enough credit or people keep telling you that in order to get xyz you need to do an entire advhdjkk with additional god knows what and still it won't suffice cuz 'nothing comes easy'. I feel you're so done that you want to turn back to them and say, "to you!" and walk off. Your ideal life is already living from it connecting with yourself instead. Like I said, you just want enough and you just wanna be and that's perfectly fine you don't need to explain yourself. You're the type to get your manifestions and simply go off the radar and exist as a beautiful myth should you desire one moment and next do something that gets you really excited and happy and also get celebrated for then you disappear again. One lovely thing about you is that you never wanna stop improving and learning new things even if it's something as random as learning how to read ancient Egyptian heliographics or baking or making spooky pottery. You're brimming with ideas and you simply seek the luxury to do most of them. Here's to reminding you that you don't have to limit yourself anymore.

Best way to manifest :

Faking it till you make it.

Talking to yourself, literally looking at the mirror and giving yourself a pep talk.

Music and sound influences you greatly so you can literally have a playlist of songs that cater to you.

Affirmations like,

"things always work out in my favor.", "no, I'll get what I want. This is my reality.", "not my circus, not my clowns.", "I am more than capable and worthy of this."

I sense you might also be into esoteric or some spiritual practices so even praying, (I think some of you may also work with moon phases or have the belief that you manifest best when you're feeling any strong emotion - joy, rage etc use it to your benefit) having your own niche ways to manifest will work just fine.

You need to fully accept that your circumstances can change overnight and will. Nothing is too far fetched. You don't have to continue trying or pushing yourself, you simply need to accept.

3. Hand dipped in golden paint

Your definition of luxury : is to never to have to struggle for wealth and security ever again.

You may have had a difficult upbringing or faced circumstances in your life that made you feel financially insecure or you may have seen someone go through these circumstances that may have severely impacted your mindset. You could have grown up with the mentality that money is hard to make or that you have to go the extra mile for it or you can only generate wealth by the conventional means. You are thankful for the gifts you posses, how much you have honed your skills and your craft as well. You're a very humble person at the same time very generous. To you, luxury should be shared, no one should have to struggle for it. It's not supposed to be for a handful of people, everyone's just as deserving.

Your ideal luxurious life : Deep down you feel you have a particular life Path or destiny. Some of you are already aware of it some of you are still in the process of discovering. (your subconscious is already aware though) you'd like to have the freedom of pursuing it without having to worry that you'll run out of income sources or that said destiny / path becomes your path to luxury. You'd like a deep, like rooted deep transformation of your circumstances and your past as well. Likely there are some lingering doubts that surface due to past traumas. Go easy on yourself and know that your traumas don't define you and regardless of anything, you're deserving of your ideal life. Your ideal life would be to stop taking orders from people with a selfish and sharp tounge so that they continue to grow richer while you keep putting double the work, your ideal life would be to discover your own identity and being proud of yourself and your achievements, to have something of your own and to have more than enough. Wealth you can save, grow and share and be comfortable and content with. You simply desire security and peace, you'd be happy perhaps having a garden or a small business of your own, you do have a philanthropic streak to you and you intend to have enough to donate to good causes. You relish the simple things in life, whatever brings you comfort and healing, you are meant to have it regardless of whatever people have told you.

Best way to manifest :

Anything that makes you feel at ease. You can manifest simply by being in the flow of things. This reminds me something I read on twitter a while back where the girl started asking the universe to show her how good things can get. So simply asking your subconscious / higher self / universe / whatever it is that you have faith in to, "show me how good things can get. Bring them to me. Bring me ease." is more than enough.

You're prone to having breakthrough moments that set you on the right path so set your intention accordingly that, "hey you know, the solution will come to me. It always does." it'll happen.

Self talk is extremely crucial of what I'm picking up, you have to be gentle with yourself and talk to yourself in a way you would talk to your best friend or someone in need of comfort.

Visualizing, dreaming, day dreaming with intention, meditation, vision boards etc are also super easy and fun ways to manifest for you.

I sense you're very sensitive to what you see and the visuals you consume, your mind tends to picture things too vividly sometimes. So be sure to surround yourself with things you'd rather see regardless of whatever, be mindful to feed yourself thoughts that evoke feelings that align with your desires. Read, read a lot, read things that make you happy or simply for leisure. You manifest best when you don't have to strain yourself at all. You got this!

#pick a deck #Pick a card #pac reading #Pick a picture #tarot community #free readings #divination community #Manifest money reading #Manifest money PAC #Manifest Luxury #Manifest wealth #tarot readers of tumblr #Intuitive reading #intuitive readings #pac #Divination

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sgt-morgan · 2 years ago

Text

☀️Knight and Day🌙

Part 1: Estrellita✨

Part 3: The Little Sunspot🍼

Moonknight Masterlist

Description: Moonboys as Girl dads. As god intended. Point blank period.

Warnings: Inaccurate depictions of DID as made cannon by the show, AFAB/ female identifying reader, depictions of childbirth, implications of sexy times, tooth rotting fluff.

A/N: This thing is long as hell, appreciate my love for you. They’re girl dads damn it! You’ll Never convince me otherwise! I love them! Reader is now Desi, because my momma is Desi. Beti= Daughter Beta= son Poti= grand daughter Nani= grandma Nana= Grandfather. Spanish you can use google translate or translate app for, Urdu is hard. (Also, tagging @castizell cause they asked all nice like.)

🌘🌔🌒

When you found out you were pregnant, it was a huge deal for your little families, but no two (four?) people were more excited than Cassie and your boys. You never had to worry about a thing, 3 am need for icecream? Jake is already driving to the store. Back aching? Marc will stand and hold your belly from behind as long as you need, arms shaking, with a smile on his face at how peaceful you look with your head leaning on his shoulder. Pregnancy hormones? Steven is eager to please in any form, from tears to tantrums, he’s there with a keen ear and able hands. Need a hand? Cassie is more than eager to help you tie shoes (Steven taught her how to do that), pick up a mess, or make everyone leave you alone with a bossy shout and a pout.

They were perfect angels right off the bat. Marc was scared, very, very scared. When he found out it was a girl? He was even worse. Worried about how he would perform as a father, worrying about wether or not he could handle the stress and chaos without becoming like… Well he didn’t want to think about that, but he was convinced that by the gods, he needed more practice. So, Cassie became a staple in your home pretty much immediately. Anytime she would ask to come over when Marc was fronting, she was always met with an enthusiastic yes. Marc would insist on caring for her. Offering to take her to dance for her (extremely) busy parents, cooking dinner for all of you, teaching her some of the Torah. (Yes, he taught her some of the Torah, good to get the practice in now. Your baby would be born to the wrong Jewish parent, her not being born of a Jewish mother, but you’d never had a DNA test, so who knows. He had forgotten a lot of it himself, so teaching Cassie also served as a brush up for him. All of the pregnancy stuff made him slowly start to reconnect with his father, they weren’t chomping at the big to see each other in person again, but at least there was a conversation there.) Regardless, Marc really liked hanging out with Cassie, and so did you, so it really didn’t bother you, except when they used her baby dolls to practice diaper changing. You didn’t understand how a plastic baby could cause so much mess, but if it kept Marc from bolting, you weren’t about to complain.

“Oh man, Purim was fun!” You giggled smoothing your hands over your stomach. It wasn’t super prominent, but it was steadily growing bigger.

“Yeah! I can’t even believe Cassie remembered the songs! Shocked honestly! I thought she could only memorize Frozen! She was also the cutest little Spider-Man I’ve ever seen.” Marked laughed, a little more drunk than you had realized earlier. “And your Dad reeeally loved the booing for Hama-“ you interrupted him by booing and he laughed even harder. Nuzzling his way into your chest to stifle his laughter

“Also, you totally cheated by just wearing your Moonknight costume!” You laughed, “We set the costume theme for Heroes, and you cheated!”

“I cheated? What about you!? Should I be questioning Matt about your costume? Huh? Dressing up as Daredevil babe, really? Matt even dressed up like you! Are you two secretly kissing?“ he giggled wiggling his eyebrows at you.

“No you big dork!” You laughed again. “The star of the show though was Peter! Dressing up as the Punisher? Brilliant. Did you see how pissed Matt was when he realized!? Priceless.”

You sighed, nuzzling into him fondly. “Also, really glad May sent home some of her Matzoh ball soup, I’ve been craving it for weeks!”

“I made you Matzoh yesterday!” He laughed, peeking up at you from where he had wrapped firmly around you, and you grinned mischievously, “Was that what that was supposed to be?”

“Babe! That’s mean!”

Steven was his normal stream of knowledge, it now just had a differing theme. Baby fever had come over him, and his weakness? Books. The baby already had a library, all kinds of books, every shape and size and color. Cardboard, hardbacks, signed copies, silly ones, sad ones, classics, myths, sci-fi, fantasy, it didn’t matter. Anything Steven fancied reading with the baby, he got it. He also wrote little notes in the books as to why he picked them. You never questioned him on this, but you read every single one with a grin.

‘This one is about strength and bravery, you can do anything my love! Don’t let anyone look down on you because you’re young. Thank the Gods you’re smarter than I am, Dad.’ (Written in a copy of Ender’s Game by Orson Scott Card)

‘This one is about the importance of compassion and kindness, stay gentle darling. Proud of you always, Dad.’ (Written in a copy of The Miraculous Journey of Edward Tulane by Kate DiCamillo.)

‘This one is about how silly peoples brains can be. Life can be a struggle, and your daddies and I understand. If you need help, without judgment, your mom and I are always here. Me and my silly noggin love you always, Dad.’ (Written in a copy of It’s Kind of A Funny Story by Ned Vizzini.)

‘If you want a good story about some gods, you can read it here. I’ll tell you my stories one day, but it’s not today. Sorry kiddo Love, Dad.’ (Written in a copy of The Lightning Thief by Rick Riordan)

‘No change is made without strong people sticking up for those who can’t stand up for themselves. I’m rooting for you darling. Always in your corner, Dad.’ (Written in a copy of The Hunger Games by Susan Collins)

‘Women are powerful, let nobody tell you other wise. You cannot be contained. Standing with bolt cutters, ready to set you loose on the world, Love, Dad.’ (Written in a copy of Circe by Madeline Miller.)

‘Hard things happen, but you’ll always have me and mommy when you need us. Supporting you always, Love,Dad.’ (Written in a copy of The Struggle Bus by Julie Koon.)

‘I am odd, and that’s ok. I know it can be hard to live with a daddy that is always changing while you change too, but just so you know, however we change. Our love for you never will. Love, Dad” (Written in a copy of I am Odd, I am New by Benjamin Giroux)

‘We love you no matter what you love! You will always be the most fascinating person I know. Do big things, dream big dreams. Love, Dad.’ (Written in a copy of Except when they don’t by Laura Gehl.)

‘Well kiddo, all daddies are different. And that okay! Your daddy is different in a special way, you got three in one! No matter which one it is, we all love you. Love, dad.’ (Written in a copy of Some Daddies by Carol Gordon Ekster.)

Steven over the course of nine months also really enjoyed reading to your ever growing belly, books of all kinds. Your baby girl constantly kicked, but when her Daddy was reading, she was as quiet as a mouse.

Steven loved the copy of Some Daddies the most. When he first saw it in the store, he was curious, so he bought it. When he read it, he cried. You lay next to Steven and rubbed his back while he read the book his head laying on your ever growing belly.

“Every daddy is different, every child is too!” He sniffled, placing a gentle kiss on your belly. “Oh man little one, your daddies are all very different I guess, but we all love you just the same. Keep baking in there alright? We can read more when you come out!” He whispered leaning up to kiss you too.

“Oh god, you are gonna be such a good dad!” You chuckled with watery eyes and kissed him softly. You really were a lucky woman.

Jake, as always, found a way to surprise you the most. This time, his surprise came in the form of taking over the nursery, and while he worked on it, he didn’t let a single other one of you know what he was doing. Every day, packages arrived, and under threat of… something, Jake hadn’t exactly divulged what the punishment was but none of you cared to find out, you put the packages outside the nursery door and left it closed. He came in and out of the room whenever he fronted with paint and boxes and toys and Steven’s books. Frequent banging and the sounds of soft punk rock fluttered out of there every once in a while, and you couldn’t contain your curiosity.

All three of you had tried to peak once, but somehow Jake’s fatherly sixth sense had developed early, and you hadn’t been able to catch sight of it.

“No peaking Cariño!” He startled you one day as your hand rested on the knob.

“Jake! Oh gosh, baby please? I just want a sneak peak?” you pleaded with those eyes and the low cut top that nearly always worked, but he just chuckled and pissed your pity lips.

“Nope! Lo verás cuando haya terminado.” He smiled and ushered you in the opposite direction. Steven couldn’t even grasp the handle, and Marc had smacked himself on the back of the head on more than one occasion. They only people allowed in the room? Allison and Cassie. You had seen them whispering and conspiring for weeks, your sister even going so far as to spend the night in the nursery once or twice to finish up work and keep you out. You loved how closely she bonded with the boys while it was happening.

“She’s gonna love it!” Allison squealed quietly, smacking your loving boyfriend over and over again on the shoulder with a smile. Jake shook his head and smiled at his sister in law while Cassie giggled. It warmed your heart to see how well he got along with them.

“Don’t worry about the nursery Hermana mía, he’s done. Allison is so excited for him to show you, they all really put the work in on this one. Cassie loved helping out.” Your brother in law smiled and rubbed your shoulder placing a kiss on your head. “They plan on showing you tomorrow, but you didn’t hear that from me.” He said with a conspiratorial wink.

“Oh Gracias, hermano, I’m dying to see it.” You huffed rubbing your belly.

“You know, I can hear you right hermano?” Jake groused from across the room. Your brother in law made a face that said yikes, and started running, dodging his angry wife and child as they chased him around the yard.

“You know what querida? It’s done, why don’t I show you now?” He smiled wrapping his arm around your shoulder and leading you towards your home.

Jake heard the hearty consent of his alters from reflections in the glasses from dinner and mirrors in the hall.

“Finally! We were left in the dark for too long mate!“ Steven sighed “I hope you made a place for all the books.”

“Yeah! I hope you got that Moonknight bear I saw, it’s too good of an opportunity to pass up.” Marc chuckled. “She’s gonna love it I’m sure!” He said when he noticed his normally immovable alter fidget nervously with his flat cap.

He opened the door to the rooms and an uncharacteristic silence took over the room. The nursery was stunning in hues of soft pinks and oranges, motifs of the desert covered every surface, including pictures of you and your husband in the desert on the walls. There was a camel shaped toy basket, little plush cactuses, and the tiny Moonknight bear tucked into the Moses basket in the corner of the room. The mural on the wall, (clearly painted by your sister) had a sun and moon motif, and a tiny mobile of the moon and stars with a tiny Konshu sitting in the moon hung above the cradle. Steven’s books were tucked into cabinets that were able to display all of their colorful title and shapes, there was even a framed Hebrew writing on the wall for Marc, though what it said had not been divulged yet.

“What’s it say?“ you said pointing to the framed writing with tears in your eyes.

“Uh, it’s the baby’s name? I know we hadn’t all settled, but in Latin cultures it is very common to have three names, so I figured why not go with all three of the ones we like? So it says, Aurora Ayla Elena Spector.” He shuffled his feet as he gestured around the room, “I went with a desert theme, because it seemed like it could be cute sabes? And there’s a little bit of everything in here. ¿Qué te parece?” You we’re quiet for a moment tears streaming down your cheeks that ached with your smile.

“It’s perfect!” You burst, throwing your arms around Jake with a sob. “Look at all of this! You did this? I’m amazed! you are so perfect! God! Could I be any more lucky? Podría besarte ahora mismo, ¡esto es lo más sexy que has hecho! Holy shit babe!” Jake chuckled at your clear excitement and smiled at his alters in the two mirrors he purposefully placed at angles where they could see the whole of the room.

“Jake, this is amazing! I love the shelves! They are perfect for this space!” Steven smiled, gesturing to the mobile “And the little Konshu? Adorable.”

“You really out did yourself man,” Marc smiled shaking his head, “It’s just her style. I love it. The Hebrew is amazing, who did it?” Jake smiled at him sadly, and Marc nodded with a sour expression. “I’m glad he knows, really I am, I just- I don’t. We can talk about it later.”

“Jake? It’s perfect.” You heard from the door way from a voice you hadn’t heard in a while, you whirled around and stood in the door with your sister’s arms wrapped around her shoulders was your mother.

“Momma!” You cried, flinging yourself into her arms.

“Oh my, it’s ok beti, I’m here now!” She laughed patting you on the back. “I didn’t know you wanted me to come so badly, but my mischievous little granddaughter face timed me about you crying and figured I would fly in a bit earlier.” You looked down to see Cassie clutched into your moms Sari and you

Sniffled petting her head affectionately. It seems she had been just as doting in her secret project as Jake had been.

“Surprise Tía! I know you wanted Nanni to come earlier, but you wouldn’t tell anybody, so I told the grownups and she’s here!” Cassie squealed squeezing your mother’s legs. “Was that ok? Did I do a good thing?” She said with wide eyes staring at all of her favorite women in adoration.

“Poti you have never done a thing wrong in your life!” You heard and saw your father hanging out with Andreas at the door. You cried a little harder and threw yourself at your dad sniffling.

“I’m so happy!” You wept as your dad gently swayed you back and fourth. He patted your back and smiled.

“I’m so glad your happy!” Cassie squealed, bouncing up and down in place.

Then, something unexpected.

“Oh my god,” you giggled, watching as Juno winked at you over your Father’s shoulders, you felt your back spasm, and knew it could only mean one thing. “Well, you have actual divine timing, I’m going into labor.”

The room exploded into action as you laughed with Juno, who was quick to reach out and grasp your back as the whole room scurried around you in a blur of excitement. Marc suddenly was thrust to front and startled your parents as his eyes rolled back into his head.

“Oh thank god!” Your dad laughed, “Good to see you Marc, I thought you might have just been passing out.” He said clapping him on the back.

“No, I didn’t, but I think Jake just did, he’s being mighty quiet in there.” He laughed, shooing Juno away from you as he began to support your weight. “You guys stick around and unpack, I’ll get her to the hospital, and call when it’s closer to showtime.” He said with a wink, helping you down the stairs.

“Ok Beta!” Your mother waved, “it was good to see you Marc, Say hello to Steven! We will clean up a bit and meet you there!” She waved and ushered you all out of the house, your sister and her family were all stood at the bottom of the steps, she held out Jake’s keys to Marc and gestured towards the car.

“We got the bag put away, the car seat is in tight- don’t say a damn word, I am just concerned about my Niece’s safety- Also? Jake? So help me god buddy, you better get your ass back out here, Marc is a terrible fucking driver-“

“Hey!” Marc exclaimed with a giggle, you openly laughed while whimpering in pain as Andreas helped you into the car.

“Don’t hey me buddy, you can’t drive to save your life- If my sister dies before I meet my niece I’m gonna kill you!” She grumbled slapping his keys into his palm. Marc tensed up and Jake was back again, kissing Allison on the cheek and patting her on the shoulder. “Very good, now drive fast pendejo, I wanna meet that baby in a hospital, not your back seat!”

“Sí, Los llevaré a salvo, no te preocupes.” With that Jake jumped in the front seat and you were off. One fast, yet oddly smooth, car ride later, and you and your boys had arrived. Marc took care of the whole checking you in thing, as he was the technical biological father, and then Steven took over for the whole birthing thing. You wouldn’t need to be in the hospital this early with a normal birth, but your doctor had declared that the baby’s positioning had put you at a bit of a higher risk, and he wanted to monitor her position closely just in case, so you were set to be here for a while. You were worried, as it was going to be more painful than normal and the risk of death was- it doesn’t matter. It wasn’t going to happen. It would all be fine.

Steven was an angel, feeding you ice chips, reading to you, rubbing your back, requesting ‘all the drugs’ for you while you were sleeping, calling your parents and sister with updates, truly keeping a calmer head than you thought he would. He was doing amazing.

You were laying, face pressed in his neck, one of his hands gently stroked your belly, his other holding the book he was reading to you while you practically slept in his arms, when Juno reappeared dressed in scrubs, for some reason.

“Hello, Juno! How’s our favorite Roman goddess then?” Steven asked, petting your head in an attempt to roust you to speak with your patroness.

“Owe, Juno? Oh she got stuck in Paris didn’t she. Well shit, this is fine.” You sighed, coming to terms with your divine doula very quickly.

“Go back to sleep, I hate she’s stuck but honestly I was kinda hoping she wouldn’t make it. I wanted to do it.” She waved with a smile, coming to readjust your monitors, checking how far along you were, instructing Steven on where to press his hand to relieve the most pressure in your aching back. She did a little more than a normal Doula, but as a patient advocate and birthing partner, you both couldn’t ask better than a goddess. As the hours continued to pass, Steven and Juno made sure you were comfortable, and helped you to get as much rest as physically possible while you were in so much pain.

“This is kind of you Juno, we really do appreciate it.” He sighed as you began to wake slightly, another contraction hitting your lower back with intensity.

“I’m honestly kinda shocked Konshu isn’t here.” You grumbled at one point after Juno grumbled with your doctor about comfortable birthing positions for you.

“Oh, that silly old bird has gone to find Taweret in order to bargain for an easier birth. He really can be a softy when he wants to!” She chuckles. “It’s very sweet of him, a little more added help is always welcome in these scenarios.” She smiled, smoothing your hair from your face.

“Thanks for your help my lady,” you smiled again, “truly, we aren’t worthy of such a divine companion in all this!”

“My child, you’ve proven yourself worthy for me time and time again, helping you with this is the least I can do.” Juno smiled brightly as she helped you to sit up in Steven’s lap.

“Damn, even my patron likes you more than me!” Steven chuckled, “he’s going to talk to a goddess for you, and he calls me a worm.” He says rolling his eyes while you laugh through your pain.

“Ok sweet girl, it’s show time. Steven? You might wanna move honey.” Juno smiled, going to retrieve your nurse.

About seven hours and a quickly healed broken finger later, you and your moon boys were the proud new parents of a little baby girl. She had your nose and Their eyes, their curls and your hair color. She couldn’t be any more perfect if she tried.

“My days,” Steven smiled, exhausted. “Look at that, just as pretty as her mum!” He smiled, running his fingers gently over her soft hair, placing a gentle kiss to your temple as he continued to just stare at the perfect little bundle sleeping in your arms.

“Thanks bub,” you huffed a laugh and placed a kiss to his collar bone. “You wanna hold her?” You smiled as more people flitted about the room, cleaning up the birthing area, setting up a crib, checking vitals. You however, seemed to be in your own bubble of calm.

“Yeah!” Steven sighed, unbuttoning his shirt as Juno instructed for skin to skin, while a doctor attached Aurora’s little hospital band. “Go on then!” He smiled opening his arms and resting the baby sweetly against his chest. “Oh my,” Steve sniffled, gently readjusting the baby securely in his arms. “She’s beautiful!” He smiled, tears in his eyes. You sat for a while just staring at the baby, your mother had just left to get you some food for you, and Allison went to go get your father, Andreas, and Cassie.

“The others want to meet her before the crazy starts,” a tear runs down his nose and falls on your daughters soft blanket. “But I don’t wanna go!” He chuckles and you rest your head on his shoulder, rubbing soothing, wide, circles on his back.

“We have the rest of our lives together baby!” You exclaimed brightly, heart breaking for Steven and the others a bit. “You’ll get to hold her again!“ You smiled nodding encouragingly, and Steven nodded, handing the baby back to you so one of the others could front. It took him a second, your hand holding his head to your shoulder while he struggled to swap places. It was almost as if they were arguing on who should go first. Eventually, Marc fronted.

“Oh man,” he gasped, looking down at her with watery eyes, “She’s here! She’s perfect!” He chuckled leaning into you excitedly giving you a sweet kiss. “You are amazing! I’m so proud of you!” He grinned staring down at your perfect baby girl.

“You wanna hold her baby?” You smiled, offering him the bundle of blankets. He grinned and nodded holding his arms out like an over eager child on Christmas. You handed him the baby, and you could see his world change.

“Oh man, how could anyone ever- she’s so- oh I love her!” He chuckled nuzzling her head and leaving a short kiss on her face. “This is the best day of my life!” He laughed, snuggling his girls closer.

You chuckled and snuggled in closer to your two favorite people. You weren’t able to sit with them long though, they needed to get you cleaned up as well as the baby. Marc followed after your daughter, and Juno helped take care of getting you cleaned up.

“You know, you really did pick well for your partner.” She smiled, helping you get into another hospital gown that she brought. “I am truly impressed with how present each and every one of your boys has been with you during all of this.”

You sighed dreamily and sat back down on the bed to wait for your baby and your husband to make their reappearance. “Yeah, I’m a lucky woman.” You. Giggled, resting your head on her shoulder while you sat with the goddess. You had a very warm and familial relationship to Juno that wasn’t displayed by other gods, but as a goddess who doesn’t get the luxury of having demigod children, she enjoys sticking close to her favorite avatars.

Marc came back into the room with the baby and two nurses in toe, they were carrying the birth certificate for you to sign, and a very lengthy bit of paperwork on vaccinations and releases. While you signed your half of everything, Marc continued to stare contentedly at your baby, really enjoying the moment. When you finished he handed you your little girl back, and your world felt complete.

“I called him while they were doing her Apgar stuff.” He said, casually clutching your daughter’s tiny hand.

“What?” You gasped, wide eyed. “Oh Marc that’s- I’m really proud of you!” You whispered, clutching his hand with your free one.

“Yeah it was-“ he sighed and sat staring into nothing thoughtfully, “It was hard, but I think I should give him a chance you know? We were all struggling, it doesn’t excuse that he- but I honestly think he deserves a chance.”

“Yeah?” You nodded rubbing his back. “I support whatever decision you make baby, I’m proud of you.”

“Yeah, I better let Jake meet our daughter now huh?” He smiled warily, and you beamed at him.

“Yeah hon, get some rest. I’m sure Jake is excited.” You nodded and held his head as he tensed, gently scratching his scalp until Jake was roused.

“Hola, Mi vida!” You grinned, tucking your baby’s blanket more securely under her chin. “Wanna meet your daughter?”

Jake grinned brightly and you could have sworn he almost squealed with delight. He reached out gently, and brought the tiny baby into his arms. He looked so big in comparison to this tiny little girl, he was mesmerized by her little cheeks and little fingers. She was more than perfect, she was absolutely radiant. “¡Mi amor, me has dado el mundo! ¿Cómo puedo pagarte?” He laughed breathlessly, clutching you both closer to his chest.

“You repay me every day, just by being here!” You whisper, kissing him on the cheek. “Isn’t she pretty?”

“Pretty ni siquiera empieza a cubrirlo, ¡es la cosa más hermosa del mundo!” He laughs, cooing as the baby begins to fuss. Then the most adorable thing in the world happens. Jake begins to rock her and sings softly in Spanish to her, and you could have sworn she grinned. Your heart melted, and you could see tears in the corners of his eyes, though he will vehemently deny it. You sighed happily and curled up in Jake’s arms, sleeping while you had the opportunity, knowing your little family was safe.

Jake took this moment to cry. He could feel such a foreign set of emotions well up in his chest, safety, comfort, contentment, love. He felt like he was holding the world in his hands. You were sleeping and so was your little girl, your little girl. God, Jake couldn’t get enough of that phrase. His little girl, his! Both of his girls were so comfortable in his arms, and he couldn’t believe it. His arms, the same arms that have fought bloody battles, waged wars. His arms were where you found comfort. If he died now he would be completely content. Several nurses had come in and out of the room to check on them, and he could tell that they thought their little family was adorable, but some of them were giving him looks as if he might combust at any moment, and of course, he’s a scary guy, but he couldn’t help but wonder if they were looking at him differently for his… condition. He knew that it lived in his medical record, he got kicked out of the military for it after all, but he guessed it didn’t matter, his girls felt safe with him, his family, your family, felt safe with them, so it must not matter. He was content, his family was safe, that’s all that matters. His alters were staring down at the perfect bundle of pink from various reflections, and he turned to speak with them.

“Wow, we’re the luckiest blokes in the world, huh?” Steven grinned from the reflection in one of the monitors closest to him. He looked happy, it made Jake smile.

��Yeah Steven, we are.” Marc grinned looking contemplative and sullen but still happy. He was staring from the reflection in your phone that was propped on one of those giant plastic hospital water cups with the straw.

“What’s wrong, Amigo?” Jake muttered under his breath, shifting to make you and the baby more comfortable where you were resting on his chest. “You can talk to us.”

“Go on mate, clue us in yeah?” Steven said, shifting his vision to Marc.

“I- I called Dad.” He sighed, rubbing the heels of his palms into his eye sockets. Steven and Jake both looked at Marc, completely bewildered. Steven was shocked that he would even want to talk to his dad, Jake was shocked that he wasn’t the one to have to make the first move. “I know, crazy. But I wanted him to see, wanted him to see we’re happy, you know?”

“¿Le mostraste al bebé?” Jake muttered, making eye contact with his alter, and subconsciously squeezing you all a little tighter.

“Yeah, I sent him some pictures. He said she’s beautiful, said she looks like-“ he stoped and Jake could tell he wanted to cry.

“Hermano, we don’t have to talk to him.” He shakes his head. “I know he loves her still, she was his wife after all, but if you don’t want to talk about it, you reserve the right to cut him off.” Huffed Jake, annoyed.

“I know, but he honestly apologized immediately after he said it. I think he’s starting to understand that we feel differently about all of this.” Marc sighs.

“I-“ Steven began. “I know that my opinions on all of this is… warped. But I think that we should give him a chance, but if he makes us or the baby or our wife uncomfortable, we reserve the right to kick him out.” He shrugs, “But I for one think it would be nice to have our dad again.”

They all sat in contemplation with this, watching the two most important people in their life doze. “Let’s- Let’s talk about it later.” Jake sighed as he heard your family coming to the room.

“Shh!” He raised a finger to his lips with a grin, as he saw a nurse escorting your sister and her family and your parents into the room. “¿Qué pasa, chicos? ¿Queréis conocer al bebé?” He grinned, rousing you from your sleep with a gentle shake.

“Oh man, you’re a great pillow.” You grumbled, placing a kiss right over his heart. Jake couldn’t have been more in love with you in that moment if he tried. He saw you and Cassie look at each other and squeal shaking your fists, as she ran up to the bed side and ever so cautiously crawled up next to you in bed, pressing your heads right up close to each other as you both peered down at the baby. Jake watched as your sister snapped a picture of you all together, and grinned. It felt good to have a family who wanted to capture all of these moments for him. Made him feel like he truly belonged, which every single person in the room would say that he did.

He grinned as he watched them all holding his baby girl with such care, he couldn’t believe that he would ever feel so safe in a room this full of happy people, but he did. It felt like a miracle.

The family all took their turns holding Aurora, Cassie of course got to go first. She squished between you and Jake on the hospital bed and he carefully transferred the tiny baby into her waiting arms. Cassie smiled and began to cry a bit and when all of Jake’s girls smiled so happily and held each other so gently, well, he couldn’t help but to cry a bit too. Allison took so many pictures, and eventually her husband took the phone so she could swap Jake places to stare down at the baby for herself. Jake did you a favor and took several beautiful photos of all of the women in your family crowding around you and the baby while the men grinned and took photos for their respective wives and well, girlfriend. Though, Steven calling you his wife by accident earlier made him think.

“¿Cómo estás, hermano? ¿Estás bien ahí dentro?” Andreas said taping him playfully on the forehead as he slung an arm around his shoulders. Jake tensed at first, but quickly made himself relax a bit. While startling, Jake wanted this brotherly affection.

“¿Quién soy yo? Oh I’m on top of the world!” He chuckled, patting his brother in laws shoulder in turn.

“It’s okay to be nervous Beta,” his father in law chuckled to his left. He could feel his hand on his back and he smiled at his shoes. “I know I was, two girls? And twins at that? Man I was terrified!“ your dad chuckled and he and Andreas chuckled with him. “I’ll tell you what though, the women in this family are magical. Something about them makes you wanna wrap em up and keep ‘em forever!” He laughed. “You’re gonna do great. All three of you, I hope you can hear me in there.”

Jake smiled and nodded. “They can, they feel as grateful as I am. We’re thrilled to have a good role model.” They broke it up when another click could be heard in the room, and they looked to see all three of the grown women holding up phones to capture this moment. “Romperlo, señoras. Enough pictures, you’ll ruin our street cred!” They all laughed at that and your family continued to pass the baby around. Jake quietly let Marc take back over when he saw him receive a text.

‘Son, I know we aren’t exactly on the best of terms, but I’m in the neighborhood, and I was wondering if I could stop by? - Dad’

Marc felt his muscles tense, and his head shot up to watch as your family contentedly continued to watch you feed the baby, your sister feeding you bites of whatever your mom brought for you to eat, while they had a hushed conversation about what she needed to pick up from the store, and where your parents would be staying. He smiled, and he looked back down at the text, feeling the cold chill tingle back up his spine.

“¿Estás bien, amigo?” Your sister said plopping down next to him on the pull out couch.

“Ye-yeah?” Marc muttered. Not exactly knowing how to respond.

“Oh, Marc, it’s you. What’s wrong man?” She said patting his back.

“Nothing it’s-“ he sighed and looked up into your sister’s eyes. He knew that Andreas struggled with his side of the family for a while when he chose to marry and move to the states, but this seemed like too much to put on your sister. “Hey!” He groused as your sister snatched his phone and proceeded to read the text from his dad. She was a brash one, your sister. Not afraid to take charge of a situation.

Her eyes widened as he read the text and her mouth formed a perfect ‘o’ “Oh man, Marc.” She sighed handing him the phone back. “Listen, if you were gonna ask for my opinion, which you weren’t, but I’ll give it to you anyway, if it disturbs your peace, it’s not worth it. I know that you want to make amends, but if it’s gonna wreck your mental health for the next seven to ten business days, let it go.” Marc considered this, and nodded uneasily, then as if sensing his discomfort, she spoke again. “But, then again, if this could be the beginning of a new chapter in the relationship you have with your father, go for it.” She shrugged, “Set boundaries, go at your pace, don’t be afraid to say no. Whatever the decision Marc, you are going to have to be the one to make it for your family. We will be here to back you, no matter what.” She winked and got up to go help you again, and he smiled softly, watching your family, HIS family, and picturing his father among them, and he decided maybe that picture would be nice.

‘Ok, why don’t you stop by before it gets too late. -Marc’

Your family as if by telepathy made themselves scarce within minutes of him sending the text, explaining that they would be back in a bit with another set of clothing for him, as well as the stuff you forgot to bring. Each woman in the family kissed him on the cheek in turn, and he smiled shakily at your sister as she bearded them out the door.

‘You got this!’ She mouthed with a big thumbs up, and he turned to you, fidgeting with his hands.

“You don’t have to worry, Allison already told me.” She smiled, “I think it’s a good idea inviting him here, in a controlled environment. We’re not inviting him into your safe space, we’re not going to his house. It’s a neutral territory. Easier.” You shrugged wrapping him in your arms, while your baby dosed quietly with you standing over top of her looking down.

“Yeah, easier.” Marc sighed, rubbing a hand down his face with a groan. “I hope you’re right.”

“When have I ever been wrong?” You laughed, plopping down next to him on your bed. “Now, come here and kiss me while the kid is sleeping, we got an hour before she’s hungry again, and I want to spend it loving on you!”

Marc grinned and devoured your mouth with a smile, caressing your curves and cradling your head. “God, what did I ever do to deserve you?” He grinned, then there was a knock. He paled, and you hushed him, smoothing a hand over his face with a smile. You both looked to see Marc’s father in the doorway, and you straightened yourself out, feeling a bit like horny teenagers.

“Hello!” You grinned taking the initiative, and waddling over to your father in law with a grin. “You must be Elias, nice to meet you.” You said shaking his hand. Marc placed himself between the cradle and the door where you stood, fidgeting with his fingers. He slowly walked up and put a hand around your waist and looked up to greet his dad.

“Hey, dad.” He nodded, waving awkwardly. The baby started fussing and you chuckled clicking your tongue. They just stood there staring at each other as you went to feed Aurora.

You were startled by how similar they looked, the hair, the nose, the stature. It was all very similar. You also couldn’t help but notice that Elias had the body language of Steven, it was shocking just how similar they looked. It was starting to get awkward as you sat feeding the baby, and you sighed when Juno walked in carrying a stack of something. “Why don’t you two go on a walk hmm?” you smiled, “I’ll finish feeding her, and you can come back and hold her.”

Elias, who still hadn’t said a word, nodded and ushered his son from the room. They walked side by side down the halls, waiting a considerable amount of time before either decided to speak. Elias took the initiative there.

“She’s uh,” he shook his head and motioned back toward the room with his hand. “She’s beautiful Marc! Quite the woman.”

He smiled, “You look very happy together.”

“Uh yeah,” Marc shrugged, “We are, we all are.” There it was. Out in the open. That simple use of ‘we’ was a powerful one. It thickened the air with crackling tension, as if any moment, lightning would strike and scatter their atoms to dust.

“Yeah, I’m-“ Elias sighed, rubbing his chin. “I’m glad to hear it. How are your uh, how’s your.” He gestured vaguely at his temple and tried to meet Marc’s gaze.

“ They’re fine, Steven is uh- Steven is now a tour guide at the museum?” His mouth was dry, tongue almost too heavy in his mouth, like he swallowed a million bees. “Jake is a cab driver, and I’m still. I’m still me.” He sighed. Elias nodded, and Marc took it as a good sign. “Yeah, uh. We, we’re getting help, talking to someone you know? It’s hard to parse everything out, but we make it work and she’s- God my wife is great!” He laughed with a shrug. “She’s the only thing keeping us all together.” He nodded tearfully.

“That’s good son, I’m happy for you.” He smiles, “Will you be ok? You know? With the baby and all? I guess it’s- I don’t know, I try reading and learning but everyone makes it seem like you’re- and I know your not, and then there’s your mo-“

“Honestly? I don’t want to talk about it.” Marc laughed bitterly. “I really don’t. We’re not dangerous, my alters and I all love the baby equally, we all want to be there for her, we all want to be good fathers. Clearly, having DID or not doesn’t determine wether or not I’ll be a good parent. It makes it harder, sure. We have a good partner though. She’s a great mom.” He nods settling his dad with a hard look. “I’m not ready to talk to you about- everything. Randall or-“ he paused and took a shaky breath. “Or mom. But, I want you to meet your granddaughter, I want to try again.”

Elias stood there for a moment in stunned silence, looking his son up and down. “Ok.”

He said simply, nodding slightly and patting Marc on the back. “I can do that. We can go at your pace. I want to meet them, Steven and Jake, I want to meet your wife or girlfriend? Are you married? Doesn’t matter, I want to hold your baby. I want to make up for lost time.”

Marc stood stunned and staring at his father, and he felt a weight fall off his shoulders. He never thought a conversation like this would be possible. He never thought all he had to do was set boundaries. He was more likely to believe he had to fight some weird dragon first or something. Your sister was right, boundaries were a good thing, and it made all of this easier, but he was exhausted, so he gripped his dad in a hug, and used it as excuse to let Steven front again. When he pulled back, Steven was startled to see his father. “Oh em, hello!” He waved and hunched back over with a small smile. Elias watched as his son’s posture became smaller, as if he was attempting to take up less space. He heard the accent and was startled, but he kept his composure with a smile. He was going to do this the right way, for his boy. “Dad! It’s really, it’s amazing to see you!” He chuckled awkary, scratching his head.

“Hello Steven. It’s nice to see you too, we should get back to your wife, yes?” He nodded putting a hand to his son’s back. He nodded, and Steven led him back to your room with a grin.

Steven was happy to see your family was back, filling the space with their noise and comfort. You seemed to be eating and the baby was tucked in her bassinet snoozing away. His father though, seemed a bit overwhelmed. “Um everyone? This is my Dad.”

He smiled, gesturing towards Elias with a smile. Elias waved and came further into the room. The room fell a bit quiet, and he heard the baby fuss. “Oh,” Steven cooed and went to pick her up gently. “Already used to the constant noise huh squirt? That’s good. Your mum’s family is a bit rowdy.” He chuckled as slowly, everyone introduced themselves after chuckling at his joke.

“Bring her over lovie!” You smiled, sat next to his father on your bed. You gestured for him to hand the baby to his dad, and he gently handed her over while you helped him to adjust to holding her head. “Isn’t she so pretty? I’m glad she got your brown eyes.” You mumbled absent mindedly, curling into his fathers back to look at the baby over his shoulder, reaching to pull her tiny hat back down over her head while his dad grinned down at her, muttering prayers and blessings in quiet Hebrew, telling you what he was like as a baby, and patting your hand fondly. Steven stepped back and took in the happy scene and his world, really, truly felt complete. Full to the brim of things he thought he couldn’t have.

You all settled into easy conversation until visiting hours came to a close. Steven had at some point been swamped again for Jake so he could speak to Elias, and the night went on without a hitch. By the time the nurse came to kick them out, Elias was playing a card game with your father, Allison and Andreas were speaking quietly with your mother about possible siblings for Cassie, and you, Jake, the baby, and Cassie were all curled up in your bed. Cassie was at the laying on your right, tucked into your side and snoozing clutching her bear, who’s matching twin bear was tucked in the empty cradle while Aurora was being held, you were curled into Jake who was on your left with a flat cap resting over his eyes, possibly sleeping, possibly ‘just resting Los viejos ojos’, and the baby was resting gently on your legs where they were bent at the knee. “Are you happy Querida?” Jake muttered with a grin, rubbing your arm.

“Of course my love!” You beamed, cuddling closer to him as you gestured to the bed. “I got my sun, moon, and stars laying here with me, how could I not be?” He chuckled and muttered about how cheesy that was, but gave you a sweet kiss anyway. The nurse told them all that visiting hours had ended, and they could all come back tomorrow. Each person took their turn saying goodbye with a hug and a kiss or a squeeze and a pat on the shoulder. Cassie whined a bit when she had to leave but otherwise they were fine. Then you were left to your own devices. You tucked the baby into her cradle, making sure to wrap her up snuggly in her blankets. Once it was all said and done, you all settled in to sleep, feeling perfectly content.

Konshu had been careful to keep his presence light in this affair, but he finally appeared again in your room while you slept. He peered down at the sleeping child, and rested his fingertips on her forehead, muttering a blessing under his breath. He stared and stared, keeping careful guard over his Avatar’s most valuable treasure yet, when he felt the presence of another divine being.

“Welcome, Juno.” He muttered, not bothering to look away from the baby.

“Hello old friend,” she sighed, wrapping an arm around one oh his and looking down at the baby herself. “How are they?” She nodded at the bed where their patrons lay.

“They will sleep peacefully, I saw to that.” He nodded, sparing a glance at them and turning his head back to the baby.

“Do they know?” Juno whispered, looking back to the baby and her friend as they both watched over their avatars.

“No, I’ll keep it that way as well,” Konshu sighed wearily, leaning into his staff with the weight of the world on his shoulders. “If it’s the smallest favor I give them, I have a strange and terrible feeling it still will never be enough.”

“Ah, so you’ve grown attached then?” Juno chuckles, touching the now slightly fussing baby with a finger, and soothing her before it disturbed the parents.

“To the worm? No.” Konshu scoffed, but Juno saw right through him. She glanced at the sleeping couple and grinned, “I simply pleaded with Taweret to let the child live in the face of certain doom and let her be strong. I’ll need a new avatar eventually!” He grumbled.

“Oh you silly old bird,” Juno laughed. “You can admit you like them, I won’t tell. I mean, you don’t go and plead to another goddess for the life of one child for nothing!” She winked and Konshu shook his head.

“I’ll admit to no such thing.” He huffed. But he still stood with Juno, watching as the soft, squishy, Human breathed in her cradle. Her spirit was strong to be certain. She was a fighter already, he could tell. She sighed, and a foreign sense of fierce loyalty came over the old god. He looked and looked and kept looking even after Juno had long sense left. He watched as you and his Moonknight took care of the child, not really making his presence known, but keeping an eye out anyway. Making sure nobody was coming for them while they were sedentary. It was strange, he had never seen all facets of his Avatar content before, but he liked it. He valued this aspect of his avatar, it restored a part of him that Konshu valued most about them, their humanity. Seeing him so vulnerable, and overjoyed, and downright hopeful. It reminded him why he chose them in the first place. Their compassion, their bravery. He valued that, even more, he valued this tiny baby, and the baby’s mother who made them all so happy. He liked this family, liked their strength. Maybe Juno was right, maybe he was fond of them after all. Only one way to find out, stay with them as long as he can. And so, he did.

#moonknight #moonknight x reader #marc spector moon knight #jake lockley moon knight #steven grant moon knight #moon knight story #moonknight fanfiction #moon knight #marc spector x reader #marc spector #jake lockley #jake lockely x reader #steven grant #steven grant x reader #konshu #marvel #mcu au

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tibby · 2 years ago

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I’ll admit that it’s been many years since I’ve watched the Saw movies, so my memory of Amanda’s arc isn’t the best, but didn’t she rig some of the traps so it couldn’t be disarmed in the third movie? I remember this being something she did without anyone asking her to, and she just watched people die. It was like she didn’t enjoy or like the death of some people, but not minding others at all. But again it’s been years since I watched the movies, so maybe you can correct me on this one.

yes, amanda rigged her traps. but i don't think it was ever something she did with cruelty, and it wasn't ever something that she enjoyed.

amanda, at the point in the narrative where she begins to rig her games, was tested approximately two years prior. she has spent a majority of that time with john being moulded into this ideal apprentice. she has gotten absolutely zero help for the trauma she's experienced, and is spending all her time with the man who caused it, and who tells her that it was a good thing that he did that to her. he makes her believe that he rehabilitated her and made her a better person, that she doesn't need anything or anyone else as long as she has him and his legacy.

not only is amanda's relationship with john filled with emotional manipulation and stockholm syndrome, but it's also based on a lie that john believes and amanda can't ignore: that amanda has been fixed. because of course, she hasn't been. sure, she's no longer abusing drugs, but she's still dependent on toxic things, still desperately craving something that will help her escape the pain she lives with. she's still hurting herself, both physically with cutting, and emotionally with her dependence on john. she's in an incredible awful state mentally, but the only person who is close enough to her to do anything about it, is also the person who needs amanda to be in a vulnerable position. the more broken amanda is, the easier it is for john to control her.

so amanda is in this place where she's supposed to take on john's legacy, supposed to help prove that people can be rehabilitated and change for the better. amanda is primed to take on this legacy because she was the first one to survive, and is supposed to be the perfect example that john's methods work. but since they don't work, since amanda is still damaged, she begins to view the tests and the motivations behind them differently.

amanda, in her self loathing and her trauma, reaches the conclusion that nobody is good and nobody is capable of change. she decides that john's tests and ideology are absolute bullshit, but by this point she's in so deep that she can't leave. she loves john, and she wants him to love her too. so she has to do what he asks and keep testing people, because she believes that's the way to get his approval.

but how does she play the part of the perfect apprentice for john, even when she doesn't believe in his message? she creates the games, but she makes them unbeatable. she feeds into the delusions of john's work, while never actually giving people the opportunity to change. as far as amanda's concerned, people are inherently evil and won't ever grow or appreciate life. so it's better to kill them when she can, and save them from confronting that horrible reality.

but even when she's struggling with all this, when she's drowning in her self loathing and angry at the world around her, she's still desperately clinging to notions that people are good. she wants to believe that humans will save each other, forgive one another, make personal sacrifices to look after someone else. it's why the nerve gas house absolutely destroys her. she was in there to play a role, but i think she truly wanted everyone to survive. she wanted them to help each other. she was horrified when obi died the way he did, genuinely terrified of xavier, and went out of her way to look after daniel and laura. sure, part of the reason was because daniel needed to make it to the end for the sake of eric's game, but there was still a personal connection there. and if it was all an act, then why did she look after laura? why was she genuinely upset over her death? laura didn't need to make it to the end, but amanda wanted her to. she wanted everyone to. but xavier and his cruelty makes that impossible, and i think it shatters what very little belief in humanity that amanda has left. she still wants to think that humans can be good, but by that point, she no longer thinks it's possible.

it's why she's so thrown off when people are genuinely good to her. she doesn't know how to respond to daniel matthews showing her such kindness (and god, the fact that he was one of the few people who tried to save her, when his father was one of the people who doomed her), because he's supposed to just be a pawn but she can't stop herself from growing attached. adam is nice to her for thirty seconds, and it's enough for amanda to be haunted by his ghost and filled with such guilt over what she did to him that she tries to save him (because, to amanda, a mercy kill is a save). she doesn't want to shoot lynn, lynn who has been sympathetic to her even when amanda was cruel, but she believes she has to, and sobs when she pulls the trigger. amanda wants to see the good in the world and wants to think people are kind, but she is surrounded by so much cruelty that she can't. and so it unsettles her when she does receive it.

being hurt and hurting others, using and being used are all amanda has ever known. and as painful and horrifying as those things are, they're comforting to her at this point. it is easier to cling to them than admit that there is goodness in the world, but she just wasn't worthy of receiving it.

(sidenote: the only death we know that she willingly watches, not just for the sake of the game, is detective kerry's. and there's nuance to that one. i think watching kerry die had less to do with a desire to witness violence, and more...a bizarre act of payback towards eric matthews. eric matthews ruined her life, beat her bloody, and then taunted her that she'll never be jigsaw. amanda would have known that matthews and kerry were close, that kerry was desperate to find matthews, that she still saw him in high regard even after knowing what he did to amanda and others. i don't think amanda wanted to watch kerry die. i think she wanted kerry to know that she was behind everything, that matthews was to blame, that she'd die knowing that she couldn't put amanda back in prison.)

amanda makes her games unwinnable partially out of self loathing and partially because she thinks it's a kindness. it's her self harm on a larger scale, hurting others because she hurts herself in the process. punishing them because she doesn't think she's good or loveable or worthy of forgiveness, and therefore believes that nobody is. and she also wants to prevent people from ever learning this horrible thing she believes to be true. to amanda, it is better to be dead than it is to live in a cruel world where nothing and nobody ever changes. because to amanda, maybe it would have been better if she died in her first game, all those years ago.

#ask #anonymous #meta #amanda young #this doesn't make sense but. she's everything to me.

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noisilyscreechingsong · 2 years ago

Text

It’s been about a week he thinks. With all the running and looking over their shoulders, thinking of what their next move is, it’s hard to keep track of the days that go by.

Danny is still impressed with Tim’s brains. They escaped with nothing but a pen. A pen. From there it was improvised, mostly by Tim, but Danny helped with finding materials for explosives. Yea, those bastards won’t be using that facility any time soon. They epically leave the place in the rearview mirror of their commandeered (read: stolen) vehicle after a well timed distraction in the form of homemade fireworks. Danny was pretty proud of them both honestly.

Of course with Tim’s all business no play attitude, Danny had to be the one to pat themselves on the back. Even if Tim’s response was “we can celebrate when we’re safe” Danny could tell Tim appreciated the praise.

It was also like arguing with a brick wall when Danny implied how they were going to get the things they needed. It was an understatement to say Tim was against stealing, but what other choice did they have? He just ended up sneaking off for a few minutes to snag some much needed items from a big brand grocery store. Tim didn’t say a word as he slipped into clean clothes and fed Leo with the formula Danny brought back.

Leo. After the Lion constellation to mean strength and bravery. They spent days going over baby names, but it came to a head when Tim found out about Danny’s love for space. He had slyly tried to suggest names of astronauts, but of course Tim caught on quick. Tim chose his middle name to be Asher, meaning happiness. Danny smiled so brightly when he told him that.

They were still arguing about last names, however.

(“Danny, we both know I’m going to be the one providing for him financially. I am heir to a million dollar company and already a co-CEO of another billion dollar company. He needs to have my name.”

“But I’m a Fenton! He’s going to have the Fenton quirks, he should have the name to go with it.”

“We could hyphenate.”

“Your name is already hyphenated! What, you expect him to grow up with Fenton-Drake-Wayne for his whole life? Are you crazy?”

“Well it would be Drake-Wayne-Fenton actually…”

“Ugh! You’re impossible.”)

Needless to say, they have yet to come to an agreement.

Danny slips into the booth at the diner they randomly picked, having changed Leo in the restroom and fed him his bottle. He started fussing the moment Danny goes to place him in the high-chair he dragged over, so the solution was to hold him as he looked over the menu.

(“With what money?” Tim had accused more than asked.

“I found it,” Danny replied airily knowing he wasn’t going to believe him. He was right.

“You just happened to find fifty dollars laying on the ground?”

“Must be our lucky day,” he smiles tightly in response, walking into the diner before Tim could really use those interrogation skills on him.)

Tim slides into the booth across from him a few minutes later, always facing the door and back against the wall.

“I called him.”

Him being Bruce Wayne. Batman. The Greatest Detective. And yet he had to be called to know where is son was after being missing for over a month. Danny was not impressed.

“And?”

“We got pretty close to New Jersey so he’ll send a car.”

Danny hums as he rocks Leo and glances over the menu again after already knowing what he wanted before Tim sat down.

Tim stares.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Danny.”

He sighs, “You know we could have just gotten there ourselves. We got this far on our own.”

“This was safer. You know this.”

“Sure.”

“What’s your problem?” Tim snaps lowly, careful not to draw attention.

“I don’t trust him, Tim,” he admits. “I don’t care who he is, I don’t know him and I don’t trust him.”

Tim pauses to think, the gears shifting quickly behind those calculating eyes.

“But you trust me.”

It was a reminder. A statement. Yes, Danny did trust Tim. Being held captive with someone and sharing a baby really brought two people together. Danny and Tim had told each other so much. Their identities, mainly because they knew ‘they’ already knew, was one of the first to be confessed. It snowballed from there to almost everything they could think of. Really thinking about it, Danny would trust Tim with his life, with their son’s life, and he knew Tim felt the same about him. They were so screwed up it worked.

Danny nodded in agreement.

“Then trust me.”

Danny inhales deeply. Okay. He didn’t trust Batman, but Tim did. So he would try.

“Fine,” he grumbles his acceptance.

“What are you getting?” He changes the subject. Danny welcomes it.

“A bit of everything.”

Tim nods seriously in approval. Danny doesn’t miss the subtle glance to his hallowed cheeks and boney wrists. They both knew that if he wasn’t a halfa, he’d be bed-bound. He was lucky he could still hold his son so sturdily.

“You should do the same,” Danny suggests softly.

He can’t help but worry about his- friend? Partner? Fellow traumatized cell mate? Whatever he was to him, it was obvious Tim didn’t take great care of himself and this wasn’t an isolated incident. This was habit. Jazz could probably explain it with six different reasons, but Danny wasn’t that analytical. He just wanted Tim to be healthy and maybe drink more water than coffee with about five extra hours of sleep. Leo didn’t really help with that last one though.

Tim looks at him, flicks his eyes across his face and slowly nodding.

“I’ll think about it.”

Well it was a start.

Honestly, all of this was a start. They hadn’t made any plans yet, well Tim might have without saying anything, but personally Danny hadn’t even tried to think about what comes next. He’s always been a one day at a time kind of guy with an active imagination as well as crippling realism.

They were just two guys in a really bizarre situation and no idea what to do next. But if they just tried to make whatever this was work, Danny thinks they can do it. They were heroes. Messed up, paranoid, obsessive heroes, but he’s had a lot worse to work with.

He smiles as Tim does in fact order the big breakfast for himself with a coffee. Leo snuffles in his sleep, drool soaking into Danny’s stolen sweatshirt.

Yeah. They could do this.

Dp x DC crossover

Tim wakes up in an unknown laboratory strapped down to a table next to an unconscious teen who looks like a batfam adoptee, also strapped to a table.

In between the tables is a tube containing a Lazarus green liquid and a infant.

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shotorozu · 4 years ago

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you like their hands

character(s) : todoroki shouto, bakugou katsuki, midoriya izuku (1/?)

legend : [Y/N = your name] they/them pronouns used, quirk’s not specific

post type : headcanons; accompanied with a small scenario [fluff, the mildest of spice not nsfw]

note(s) : i was thinking about todo’s hands today— also i’ll be adding pictures of what i think their hand looks like so.. 😳

»»————-　♡　————-««

todoroki shouto

i’d like to believe that shouto’s hands would be long and pretty— kinda like how i’d imagine akaashi and kageyama’s hands

but have y’all seen that man’s hands in the anime and manga 😳 they’re not really what i’d call them “long”

so i had to find a mid point, kinda like a fusion of both.

his hands are either really pale, or the knuckles are just really red

moving on..

you have a weird infactuation with his hands, and you were gonna tell him! but you just didn’t know when

he didn’t really get it at first??

yes, he will respect and properly entertain your interests. but.. his hands? he doesn’t get that part yet

shouto can say he takes care of them well. washing his hands at least 3 times a day, and applying lotion on them with the slightest mint scent in it

and he takes care of his hands because he needs to rely on them everytime he uses his quirk.

speaking of quirk— his hands are either scorching to the touch, or cold.

so the first time he reaches out for your hand, you just.. freeze?? you were talking about something random while walking with him

then he just suddenly reached for your hand

seeing your reaction, he’s like.. “oh. my hand must be too cold for them. gotta switch.”

then he switches hands, holding your hand with his left. and you’re still the same, and it appears to be that switching didn’t really help

scenario

“what’s wrong, love?” he pulls you aside, staring at your expression— seeing that you became stiff when he reached for your touch.

you want to downplay the entire situation, really. but shouto doesn’t budge, that’s just who he is, and he’s still left wondering what’s wrong, and if he did something.

that is until you mention his hands, and that you like them

“your hands.. are really nice i guess,” you avert your gaze “i like them.” you say in almost a whisper like tone.

he sighs in relief. and he feels better that it’s not about the fact that you hate the temperature of his hands, since they’re either abnormally sahara desert hot or cold like fresh snow on a december morning.

his cheeks flare pink for a moment, in sudden realization “y-you like my hands?” shouto asks this as a confirmation, hoping that he actually heard it correctly.

but when you nod, he takes full advantage— entertaining your interest in his hands to his best abilities

he smiles when he sees your expression change when he brushes the back of your hand with his own. then, he finally holds your hand— the coolness of his right hand is making you hyper aware

your heart only pounds faster against your chest, when he presses his lips to the back of your hand, maintaining eyecontact as he does soz

after dating you, he paints his nails with clear nail polish. it makes him feel better knowing that they’ll stay clean even with all the hectic training

to calm you down, he likes to rub his thumb against your cheek— his quirk slightly activating while he stares into your eyes

a little spicy; but whenever you eat your desert during a date, he will wipe the excess off the side of your lips, and ask you to lick it off.

is he teasing you? or is he serious? we will never know.

bakugou katsuki

SCREAMs

bakugou’s hands are big, and his veins are prominent— but not too veiny to the point it’s concerning.

he sometimes likes wearing rings but.. that’s just sometimes

his hands are strangely soft, especially the palms— but he could say there’s some rough spots here and there, but he’d guess it’s because of his quirk.

bakugou’s hands are always warm and sweaty, which he never actually cared about— until he started dating you

he’s kinda worried that you wouldn’t wanna hold his hand, but you can say it’s actually the opposite?

you really like his hands.. but you’re just scared of getting judged

so when he reaches for your hand, you try to pretend that he wasn’t? you turn your head away— trying to not look the slightest bit of dazed

scenario

“what’s up with you?” bakugou interrogates you, his ruby irises glaring into your eyes— his voice gruff

“what?” you question, the sudden action was out of the blue— and you hold in your breath when his hands cage you in, large hands pressed on the wall behind you

“HAH?” he yells, not amused by your sudden oblivion, “don’t act dumb,” he grits his teeth “spit it out, and tell me what’s wrong.”

“nothing’s wrong, suki— i don’t really follow?” you try to convince him that no, i’m totally not afixiated with something about you, even though you’re my boyfriend; i don’t wanna admit that. however— you’re not very slick.

“tch, fucking liar.” his eyes narrow, “if you hate my fuckin’ hands, then i prefer it if you were honest about it.”

“sorry, but what?” you blink, suddenly appalled by his words, “hate.. your hands?”

“because that’s what it is, huh?” he moves even closer to you, practically inches away; and you can only pray that he can’t hear the rather loud beating of your heart. “my hands are so sweaty that you don’t wanna touch em, is that it?”

you’re agitated by his misunderstanding, and you sigh; finally deciding to come clean. “fine! fine. i like your hands.”

you didn’t mean to make it sound that upfront.

bakugou blinks, the sudden tension releasing into thin air, his expression left almost as equally surprised as you.

“tch. so that’s how it is,” he smirks, and by the way it looks— you suddenly regret telling him that.

well.. not really?

he actually takes advantage of that, making sure you remember his hands nicely.

when he sits next to you on the couch, he’ll throw his beefy ass arm around your shoulders like usual. then, he’ll run his hand up and down, making sure you’re aware of his touch.

bakugou will be THAT BITCH that’ll gesture you to come over so he could kiss you,

and when you’re leaning in— he’ll pinch your cheek, a sly grin on his face.

a little spicy; but he’s the type to rest his hand on your neck when you guys kiss <3 ugh

but overall— he’s really glad you actually like his hands, and it wasn’t like you hated them at all

but GOSH he just wished you told him from the start >:T

midoriya izuku

less veins, but.. DAMN THEY’RE KINDA THICK?? not too thick but.. have you seen his hands in the manga??

of course— his hands are rough, with a bunch of scars from his quirk. which he was kinda conscious about

but he tries hard to take care of them outside of combat things in fights; if they’re damaged then.. oh well

he definitely fiddles with pencils, and when he’s studying— the chance of him having a silver’s hand is likely (the thing where the graphite smeers on the back of your hand) he hates that shit

he definitely has a writer’s callus. PROVE ME WRONG!! that man writes a lot, and so do i so 😌 twinsies

but he tries to keep them clean, and he wants to make them feel less rough— so he will invest in some hand cream

compared to the other two, midoriya’s hands are normal in temperature.

but his grip is firm but he doesn’t really realize it sometimes.

you like his hands because.. the detail on his hands leave you mesmerized

but you don’t really wanna weird him out or make him uncomfortable. since he gets really flustered quick.

and you don’t want him to just stare at his hands and think about your fascination about them. no distractions

but he gets real pouty when you pull away

scenario

“hey Y/N, do you.. hate holding hands with me?” izuku asks one day, when you guys are studying in your room

“what?” you tilt your head, really surprised by his question— since you guys sat in silence for the last few minutes. you can feel the edge in your stomach grow when he mentions his hands.

“you always pull away when i try to hold your hand.” you gesture him to continue what he’s saying, and he continues “ but i get it though! my hands are.. scarred, rough. they’re kinda ugly compared to the rest of the guys.” he’s rambling, and you can’t help but feel really saddened.

“izuku, no.” you shake your head, “your hands aren’t ugly. yeah, they may be scarred and all— but they saved a lot of people, it saved eri, and it helped you get to where you are today.”

izuku’s cheeks flush with red, and he can’t say that you’re wrong. but; though he’s provided with reassurance, that’s not the answer he wanted

“but why won’t you hold my hand?”

“because i..” averting your eyes to the wall behind him, you’re looking for the right words. “i like your hands. i didn’t want to make you feel weird because of me.”

you look at his face after the confession, and it’s just ingulfed in a red shade.

on the contrary, this makes him like his hands more. everytime he looks at his hands, he’ll be motivated by your words.

but he’ll be a little shy with acting on it at first; especially in public

but fear not! izuku may seem innocent, but he also knows what he’s doing so.. don’t be decieved

when he’s studying, he’ll write with his right hand, and feed you little snacks with his left hand— urging you to open your mouth and take the snack

after sparring with you he’ll comment on how you did so good, also while placing his hands on your shoulder— massaging any sore parts

a little spicy, but when you guys are kissing, HIS HANDS WILL ROAM TO PLACES. pulling you closer as he attacks your lips

overall— he might be a little shy at first, but he can say he’s pretty accepting of your interest in his hands. it makes him feel better about the appearance of his hands.

»»————-　♡　————-««

likes and reblogs are appreciated, thanks for reading!

i do not own bnha/mha and it’s characters. boku no hero academia/my hero academia belongs to horikoshi kohei. i only own the writing, and i don’t profit off of my hobby.

do not reupload, translate, and use my work for any reading videos without my consent. do not plagiarize my work :))

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nothankyousirr · 3 years ago

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my opinions on the different mbti types (from an intj)

enfp - you can be good to hang around in moderation. i appreciate your charitable nature; how you aren’t one to pass judgement, but that also leads to a lack in understanding one’s depth. i appreciate how easy it is to befriend you, you’re able to keep the conversation without any expectations on my part to contribute, and although you can be stupid and impulsive, it’s to a point where it’s almost fascinating, which makes it somehow nice to be in your presence. in moderation, of course. you can be very draining at some points.

entp - you’re funny to watch, but actually conversing with you can be...confusing? i do appreciate your ability to see things from other perspectives, but sometimes you need to take a step back and understand the overall reasons behind those perspectives. confidence is important, but don’t get too over zealous, we all have things to improve on.

enfj - i cannot understand you. at all. you’re so nice, it seems like you have some sort of ulterior motives. i do not trust you, you are just so warm i feel like i’m being judged every time i talk with you, or are even in the same room as you. your general demeanor is just so kind it’s threatening, you need to be less optimistic.

entj - a lot of people hate you, which i can understand on their part, but i appreciate your approach to things. with every entj i’ve met, no matter my friend’s/peer’s opinion, we’ve always had a mutual understanding of some sorts. although, i do see a lot of naivety; which i’m 99.9% sure none of you will ever admit. i admire your drive, your confidence, and things along those lines, but some words of advice; you can’t change anyone. as hard as you try, some people are just stuck the way they are, unfortunately. it’s something i’ve had to learn as well, but a lesson i think would do you well.

infp - you are adorably killing yourselves with every move; like small puppy who’s favorite toy just happens to be laid perfectly in the middle of ongoing traffic. your impulsivity hurts me deep inside. please, just try to be aware of your surroundings, at least a little. i know, ironic coming from me, but it’s all i could ask. think out your actions, just a bit. i know life may suck, but take it upon yourself to change that, instead of just falling victim to your own hurt. i wish i could just pick you up and live your life for you, it hurts to see you do these things.

intp - i like you. your humor is refreshing as well as your insight, you just cannot stay organized. you take pride in your discombobulation; your lack of care, which confuses me. because of that, it’s hard to empathize with you when you have troubles, because it could’ve been easily prevented. it makes me upset for you when i see you do this. it doesn’t come from a place of trying to overly pressure you, rather a place of care. i hope that can be acknowledged.

infj - i enjoy your presence, you are just are hard to get. i always seem to upset you in some way, so i implore you to be better at communicating those things. your productivity and insight is very much appreciated, i feel your anxiety is holding you back. we all experience anxiety, it’s a valid human emotion, of course, but don’t let it dictate your life. confidence is important, you’re allowed to acknowledge your accomplishments. also, i implore you to think deeper in terms of morality. why do you believe those things? what is the axiomatic rout of those morals? by understanding that, you gain a better understanding of the people around you. the people you deem to be bad, may think they’re good by their own definition.

intj - from one intj to another, i feel like there is a lot to grow on. we tend to be very book-smart, but oblivious when it comes to how people work, including ourselves, but just because those things are acknowledged from mbti posts and whatnot, that does not give any excuse to avoid improvement. knowledge is important if we ever want to achieve our goals, and having that insight can make things a lot easier. as much as it seems like time is easily slipping away from us, taking control and trying to pick up on those details we may normally be ignoring, may teach us something valuable. it’s also important to take care of ourselves. i find routines are an easy way to remember to do so. having designated times for everything helps maximize the amount of time to get things done, while also taking care of your needs. and give yourself breaks. having fun, relaxing, etc. can also be productive in itself. not everything that’s productive isn’t what’s directly seen as such.

esfp - you can be a lot. its very hard for me to truly understand you, and i get the impression that you feel the same about me. i feel like there’s a lot of miscommunication. we’re practically complete opposites, not just literally (intj-esfp) but in practice as well. what you find fun and what i find fun is so drastically different from one another, i feel like it’s impossible to truly have a meaningful time with each other. from both parties.

estp - i like your confidence. your humor as well. i feel like we get along quite well, although it can be hard at some points because i tend to live in the future a lot, while you’re the “go with the flow” type. that is appreciated, though, and i feel like there’s a lot to teach each other. that’s just a matter of taking the time to communicate with one-another and be understanding.

esfj - i like you, from the sidelines. i appreciate the way you think, i’m just not sure if that is reciprocated. i tend to come of very strong, which i think is quite anxiety inducing for you, but you’re very passionate about the things you enjoy. i do think it’s important for you to have more insight, though. the world is vast, and an understanding of it can be very beneficial to you.

estj - your drive is commendable. you’re very confident, know what you want, which i appreciate. i do think it’s important to take a step to think about things further to acknowledge the nuances in things, instead of dismissing them as confusing. not everything is as blunt as you’d like, and may take a bit of critical thinking to truly understand. things happen, yes, but why may they do that? is there anyway to prevent the things you don’t like from happening? those questions are something i think are important to keep in mind.

isfp - for lack of a more kinder way of saying this, i dislike you. i wouldn’t go as far as to say i hate you, but i am very frustrated with you. you tend to dismiss things for the main reason of someone just “being that way” without taking into account any other factors that may come into play for that behavior. with the isfps i’ve met, you’ve seen my behaviors as “trying too hard to be a certain way” or “pretentious” without truly understanding why i act the way i do. it gets frustrating. your very confident, but in thoughts that are lacking in insight. take a second to learn about what you’re talking about before you say things. for my own sanity.

istp - even though you seem like you’re about to kill yourself with your approach to things, you always some how get it done, which is respectable, yet fascinating. you’re surprisingly very fun, even though from the outside i wouldn’t think we’d be at all close friends. you’re not one for deep conversation, rather the kind of conversation that always leave’s me feeling refreshed. it’s important to sometimes take a break, and you’re the type of person that i can easily have that with.

isfj - you’re very adorable. your moral standpoint to most things can be a bit frustrating at some points, but you make up for it with your kind demeanor; a genuine kindness as well. your happiness and drive to help people is a commendable quality, just don’t let people walk all over you. you tend to be a bit too charitable, when sometimes it’s okay to recognize that people just aren’t the right match for you. it’s okay to take care of yourself. i know i come off strong and that can be a bit intimidating, but i promise that it comes from a place of care. be confident in yourself. to truly be able to take care of the people around you, you need to take care of yourself first.

istj - i respect you and your approach to things. i think there are a lot of things we can learn from one another. your ability to easily figure things out from your surroundings is admirable, and it’s interesting the way your mind works. i haven’t met many istjs (of my knowledge) but i think we’d get along quite well from the information given to me.

#mbti #myers briggs #enfp #entp #enfj #entj #infp #intp #infj #intj #esfp #estp #esfj #estj #isfp #istp #isfj #istj #16 personality types #personality #cognitive functions

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sunflowervolvimp3 · 4 years ago

Text

changes (best friend!harry)

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

Pairing: best friend!Harry x reader

Word Count: 17k (holy shit)

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

{masterlist}

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Until now.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

“And how’s that going?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Says who?”

“Says me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Harry just grins at you.

…

“Want one?”

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

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

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

“So high maintenance.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Y/N really doubts it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You didn’t.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

“You’re still working?”

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

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

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

Y/N raises an eyebrow. “Why?”

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

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Y/N clears her throat. “Right.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And remember how nervous you were?”

“Yeah.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah.”

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

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

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

…

“Good morning.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Shut up.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Exactly.”

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

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

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

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

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

Except this doesn’t feel like any other way.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Harry presses a chaste kiss to her shoulder.

…

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

“I have a proposition for you.”

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

“Yeah.”

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

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

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

“Probably.”

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

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

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

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

“Probably?” Y/N says suspiciously.

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

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

“You do?”

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

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

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

“Why do I have to be creative?”

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

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

“I am! Why is that so hard to believe?” Harry asks. “I trust you. And you’re good with words.”

“No. Absolutely not.”

…

“Make sure my drink has two shots in it.” Y/N calls to Harry as she looks over the tattoo supplies on the living room table.

Harry laughs. “I’m not sure I want my tattoo artist to be drunk.”

“The only way I’ll even be your tattoo artist is if I’m drunk.” She counters. “I still think this is an awful idea.”

Harry hands Y/N a tall glass with a light pink liquid in it. “Drink this, and you’ll change your mind.”

Y/N takes the glass and takes a large gulp, not focusing on the taste of the mixers, but the liquid courage behind them.

Harry grins, lifting his own glass. “Cheers.”

“Shut up and sit down.” Y/N mutters. She ties her hair back before grabbing the disinfectant wipes. “Where do you want this?”

“My upper inner arm. I already shaved it for you.” Harry smirks as he points to the area, which is easily exposed in his loose tank top.

“And you’re sure I can write it with pen?” Y/N asks nervously as she disinfects the area.

“Mhmm.” Harry leans back comfortably in his chair. “What did you decide on?”

“It’s a secret.” Y/N uncaps the pen, getting closer to him.

“So I can’t know until after it’s on me permanently?”

“Is that a problem?” Y/N asks innocently. “I thought you trusted me?”

Harry chuckles. “I did say that, didn’t I?”

“Also that I’m good with words.” Y/N makes sure Harry’s head is turned away before she carefully writes the phrase she chose. Then she snaps on gloves and starts the machine like she watched in videos early that day.

“You’re fine, love.” Harry assures her, seeing the nervous look on her face. “It’s a small tattoo. It’ll only take a few minutes.”

“Quiet.” Y/N mutters. “I need to focus.”

True to Harry’s word, the small tattoo only takes a few minutes to finish. When it’s done, Y/N gives it one final wipe before setting the machine down and taking off her gloves.

“Alright.” She picks up her glass and drains it completely. “You can look.”

Harry peers at his arm, curiosity clear on his face. There, in Y/N’s loopy handwriting is the phrase “touch me.”

“It looks so fucking good, Y/N.” Harry grins at her. “You did amazing!”

“I didn’t fuck it up?” She asks, chewing on her lip anxiously. “Is it alright?”

“You did a lovely job.” Harry smiles. “Wrap it for me?”

Y/N does as he asks, carefully wrapping the fresh tattoo in plastic wrap and taping it to his arm. “I think I’ll accept my tip in the form of another drink.”

Harry snickers. “Coming right up.”

Two drinks later, they’re both back in the honest and loose headspace that they’ve grown familiar with. It’s not enough that they’re unaware of their actions, but both Y/N and Harry know that their lips are looser because of the liquor in their systems.

They’ve migrated to the bedroom to get comfier, but took a few items from the bar with them. It’s with these items that Harry tops up Y/N’s glass again as he speaks.

“So tell me…” He sets the cocktail shaker on his bedside table. “Why ‘touch me’?”

“You said you wanted something to remind you of isolation.” Y/N takes a long sip of her drink. “And that’s what we both miss the most, right? Being touched?”

Harry nods slowly, his rings clinking against his glass. “Yeah. I’m probably going to go straight to the bars after this is all done. Find someone there.”

He laughs lightly, showing that what he says it half a joke, but Y/N sighs wistfully and shakes her head in disagreement. “I won’t.”

“You won’t?” Harry is surprised, his laughter fading. “Why not?”

Her shrug almost causes her to spill her drink on the bed. “I don’t know.” Y/N sighs again. “I don’t really—I’m not a hookup fan. Not right now, at least. It’s not what I…want.”

“What do you want, then?” Harry finishes his drink, but sets the glass down instead of refilling it. “If not sex?”

“I want sex.” Y/N says defensively. “But I want—I don’t want it to be someone random. I want sex, but I want to be…intimate. Like, I want to know that person cares about me, and I care about them.”

Harry licks the last of his drink from his lips. “Like that breathless feeling?”

“No. It would be nice, but no. That takes time.” Y/N brushes her hair behind her ear. “Just…someone who cares. I don’t want a quick fuck, I just—”

“You want to be touched. Intimately touched.” Harry takes the empty glass from Y/N’s hand and sets it down on the table next to the bed.

Y/N nods gently, her limbs feeling loose. “Yeah. Intimately touched.”

“You know, I could…” Harry trails off, pursing his lips. “We could…do that.”

The alcohol makes Y/N slow to recognize the meaning of his words. “What?”

“I’ve noticed you…the way you look at me, it’s…different than it was.” Harry says carefully, his eyes gauging her reaction. “For the last few weeks. And I—I know that I’m…attracted to you, too.”

“We…” Y/N struggles to think of what to say as she finally registers what’s happening. “We’re friends.”

“I know, but that doesn’t mean I can’t see you as attractive.” Harry looks down at his hands. “Don’t you…? I mean…”

“I—yeah. I think you’re—” Y/N laughs a bit nervously. “You’re attractive, H, you know that. We’ve just never…discussed it.”

“I’m not saying we have to fuck, or—we don’t have to do anything.” Harry straightens his shoulders and looks you in the eye. “Just—when we touch, it’s mild. If you want to be touched intimately, we could…”

“Like, a hand job?” Y/N says slowly, her words blunt with confusion.

Harry goes a bit red, but he shakes his head quickly. “No, Christ, that’s not what I meant, I—just—can I show you?”

“Um,” Y/N swallows hard. “Sure.”

“Okay.” Harry nods slightly, taking carefully measured breaths. “If this feels weird, or anything seems wrong, just tell me to stop, alright?”

Y/N replies faintly. “Alright.”

Nodding again, Harry moves closer on the bed, sitting on his knees so he can get closer to Y/N, who sits cross-legged. His hands rest lightly on her bare thighs, and his rings are a cool contrast to his warm skin.

Harry begins to rub his hands up and down her thighs slowly. His movements are measured, and he watches Y/N’s reaction carefully for a sign of her disliking his actions. However, what he finds is a nervous but interested girl staring back at him.

“Like this. Like, what you like.” Harry says lowly. His hands move more to her inner thighs, but they don’t creep higher. “And…”

“And…?” Y/N asks, her heart rate increasing even more.

Harry moves one hand to the hem of Y/N’s tank top, pushing it up a bit so his hand can rest on her waist. He rubs over her warm skin, marvelling in how smooth and soft it is to his touch. His fingers graze the lace of her bra, but he goes no higher.

“How—how’s that?” Harry asks quietly.

“It’s, um, it’s good.” Y/N replies as she struggles to keep her voice normal. “Yeah. Good. But, um, can you…” Harry’s movements pause at her words, and Y/N feels her cheeks get even warmer. “Maybe touch my, uh, my neck. If you’d like.”

Harry nods, and the hand on her thigh moves to her neck. He traces his fingers across her shoulder and over her collarbone, delighting in feeling the curves of her body. Y/N’s breath hitches when his fingers travel up her neck, and Harry swears he can feel her pulse increase under his fingers.

Y/N’s not sure if it’s the fact that she’s touch starved from self isolating that makes Harry’s touches feel so good, or if it’s the fact that it’s Harry touching her, but she doesn’t dwell on it. Instead, she closes her eyes and tilts her head back, allowing him better access.

She feels Harry’s breath before she feels his lips, but she’s still surprised when she feels him begin to sponge light kisses across her neck.

“H…”

“Is this alright?” He asks the question right below her ear, and yet she can barely hear him because he’s so quiet.

“Yes.” Y/N breathes. “Yeah.”

“Good.” Harry returns to pressing light kisses to her skin, his hands still rubbing over her sides and hips.

For the first time since seeing Harry naked in her bathroom, Y/N can’t deny or explain away her attraction to him. She can’t convince herself that she doesn’t want him to touch her, because she does, and she can’t tell herself that she doesn’t need him, because she does. Every fibre of her being is telling her that she needs Harry, and she needs him now. Her heart is pounding, her skin is on fire, and her core feels like she’d going to explode if he doesn’t do something. And yet, Y/N can’t tell him to touch her more. She’s frozen, mind blank, and she can only register what Harry is doing at the moment as what she wants.

Harry continues to kiss her neck, never lingering too long in one spot, never sucking too hard. Every kiss is gentle and chaste, except the few rare ones that include the tip of his tongue running over her skin.

After what feels like an eternity, Harry pulls away from her neck, face flushed. Despite his hands still on her body, Y/N makes an involuntary sound in the back of her throat.

“Is that better?” He asks lowly, rubbing his thumb against your hip.

“I—kind of.” Y/N says softly. If anything, she thinks, it’s worse. She needs to satisfy the burn inside her, but she doesn’t know how.

“Good.” Harry replies, but he doesn’t take his hands off her.

Y/N’s own hands have been sitting at her sides as his moved over her body, but she raises one now, as hesitant as Harry was. She extends it towards his arm, but pauses with her fingers right over his skin.

“Is it okay if I…?”

The corner of Harry’s lips lifts up, just barely. “Yeah, love. Go ahead.”

Harry’s skin is warm beneath her touch. Y/N traces the outline of his mermaid tattoo carefully before moving onto others. She loves how his arm curves under her touch, how he stays still and lets her explore. She appreciates it, thinking that if Harry made any sudden movements, she’d force herself to pull away.

Soon, her fingers move from tracing his tattoos to tracing the lines of his muscles. She moves down his forearm to his hand, running her fingers over the veins that show through his tan skin, over his knuckles, down the tips of his calloused fingers and back.

Harry sucks in a breath, and Y/N’s trance flickers for a moment as her eyes move to his face to see what’s wrong.

“Sorry, just—surprised me.” Harry says, voice low yet sheepish. He nods down to his thigh, where Y/N realizes her own hand is resting.

“Oh—” She moves to pull her hand away, but Harry places his own on top.

“It’s fine.” He says quickly. “Keep going.”

Y/N bites her lip as she turns her attention back to his arm. Her fingers move slowly and carefully back up his forearm to his upper arm. She traces over his tattoos while she rubs her thumb gently against the muscle, and stops her fingers at the edge of his t-shirt sleeve. With a quick glance at Harry, she pushes the sleeve up, tucking it up on his shoulder so she can run her fingers over his ship tattoo, which is one of her favourites.

“Feels nice.” Harry murmurs, his eyes following her movements.

Y/N glances back at his face, taking in his appearance. His lips are red from the time he spent kissing her neck, and his cheeks are still flushed. His eyes are darker than usual, and she’s not certain if it’s the candlelight or something else causing it. There’s a light sheen of sweat on his forehead, with a few loose curls hanging down. Out of reflex, Y/N reaches up and pushes his hair back out of his eyes.

Before she can return her hand to his arm, Harry captures it in his own. Y/N watches as he brings it to his lips, inhaling as her wrist passes underneath his nose. Although she’s not sure why, there’s something about seeing how much smaller her hand is in Harry’s that delights her.

Harry presses a soft kiss to her wrist, following it up with another on her palm. Y/N’s eyelids flutter at the tender sensation.

“It’s my turn to touch you.” She says softly, her voice strained.

Harry hums in reply. “I know.” He kisses your wrist once more before looking at you. “I’ll help.”

Lifting his hand from his thigh (your hand, which was underneath, stays where it is), he pulls up his shirt just enough that he can sneak your hand underneath. He rests it on his lower chest, and even though his shirt is still partially covering him, Y/N knows she’s touching his butterfly tattoo.

“I like to be touched here.” Harry says in the same low voice.

“Okay.” Y/N bites her lip, her head swimming with alcohol and the smell of the candles and Harry’s cologne and Harry. “It…would be easier without your shirt.”

Without breaking eye contact, save for the moment fabric covers him, Harry pulls his shirt over his head and tosses it to the side. “Better?”

Y/N’s eyes drift down to his tanned stomach. His body is familiar and a stranger to her all at once. She knows his tattoos, scars, every mark on his skin from a distance, but seeing it like this—touching it like this—makes her feel like she’s never truly seen him before.

“Better.” She manages to say, her hand brushing across his ribs.

Y/N spends a while exploring the planes of his stomach, the contours of his body. When she gets to his v-lines, and runs her fingers over the ferns tattooed there, Harry shivers a bit, his hand gripping her knee tighter.

Y/N massages his thigh gently. “Alright?”

“Yeah.” Harry clears his throat. “I’m good.”

“Okay.” Y/N nods, but moves her hand further up again, over his chest and over his collar bones. She takes a moment to trace the lines of his neck, feel the beat if his pulse underneath her fingers, and then tangles her fingers in his hair. She uses the leverage to tilt his head back a bit, and presses her lips to the base of his neck.

Harry’s cologne smells better up close, and Y/N adores the heat of his skin on her sensitive lips. She presses small kisses over the curve of his neck, pausing over his jugular. Her tongue darts out and she carefully licks along it before ending the motion with a kiss.

“Christ…” Harry exhales slowly, the tips of his fingers digging into her knee slightly.

Y/N knows they’re crossing the threshold of just touching each other for the sake of touching. She can feel herself dripping in her panties, and when her eyes flicker down, she can see the outline of Harry’s half hard cock in his shorts. Together, they’ve reached the border of friends helping each other out, and she’s certain that she wants to cross it with him. However, she’s not sure if they should.

Pulling back enough to look Harry in the eyes, Y/N clears her throat. “H, we—what are we doing?”

Harry waits a moment to answer. “I…I don’t know. I have no fucking clue.”

“This isn’t friendly anymore.” Y/N’s voice drops to a whisper. “It’s not just—it’s intimate, yeah, but it’s more…” Her eyes move to the outline of his hardening cock once more before looking back up at his face. “It’s more.”

“Yeah. It’s more.” Harry moves his hand further up her thigh again, rubbing slow circles. “But I don’t want to stop.”

Y/N sucks in a breath. “You don’t?”

“It’s been so long since…” Harry trails off, his gaze drifting down to your lips before returning to your eyes. “And it’s you. I’ve always wondered if—we—”

“I’ve wondered, too.” Y/N admits, her voice filled with nerves. Are they really discussing this? “Especially since that day, in the bathroom—”

“I wondered if you looked then.” Harry’s voice drops lower (which Y/N didn’t think was possible). “I thought about it later that day. I—fuck, I wanted you to look.”

A small noise escapes the back of Y/N’s throat. “This—we’ve been drinking, and—it’s the alcohol, H. Neither of us is thinking straight.”

“This isn’t the alcohol talking. I’ve thought about—when we’re in the pool, when we cuddle, when we flirt, I—I can’t help it.” Harry closes his eyes for a brief moment, like he’s collecting himself. “I need you. And I think…I think you need me too.”

“I do. I need you.” Y/N touches his stubbled jaw with careful fingers. “But we’re friends. This is going to change that.”

“We don’t know that.” Harry leans into her touch. “You said before that you wanted someone you’re comfortable with, something intimate, something breathless. You and I are comfortable, and intimate, and—I don’t know. All I know for sure is that I want you.”

Y/N isn’t sure if he means he wants her in a purely physical way or something more, and while she knows she should clarify that, all she can focus on is his voice and the way it’s going straight to her core.

“I want you, too.” She says simply.

Harry brings his hand to Y/N’s hip. “Can I kiss you?”

Y/N nods. She’s not sure she’s capable of giving a verbal response.

Harry takes it upon himself to lean closer, his fingertips digging into Y/N’s skin in a way she adores. He pauses, hovering just above her lips for a moment, as if to give her time to pull away. Instead, Y/N just waits in anticipation, delighting in the feeling of his breath running over her skin.

When he kisses her, Y/N tastes alcohol, mint, and what she swears is her own heart in the back of her throat.

Any previous kisses she’s shared with Harry have been half kisses, given in teenage games of truth or dare and in a friend’s parent’s basement. Those kisses were safe, guarded, and an obligation. This kiss is the exact opposite.

Although it starts chaste, it quickly grows more passionate. Y/N can’t stop herself from tugging on Harry’s hair more than she imagines Harry can stop himself from rucking up the hem of her tank top. His fingers dip under the band of her lace bralette as she nips at his lip, tugging slightly, delighted when a strangled sound echoes from the back of his throat.

Within minutes, Y/N’s allowed Harry to pull her to straddle his lap, his hands grabbing at her hips with a neediness she’s never seen him exhibit before. Of course, she feels the same way, and she lets her hand run down his chest over and over, using her nails a little more each time. Although there’s no one around to see, no party to return to, nowhere to go, Y/N wants to leave a mark. She wants anyone who sees his chest to know that he belongs to her.

Harry breaks away from her, lips red, eyes frenzied, and breathing heavy. “Can I—?” His hands tug on the hem of her top, tugging in question.

Y/N lifts her arms in response, letting him pull it off and toss it to the side. Harry moves back in to kiss her again, but she keeps her arms up, giving him a long look.

“You’re not done.” She says simply.

He understands right away, and his fingers find the band of her bralette again. This time, however, he removes it slower, almost as if the removal is ritual itself, and his hands are less frantic when they return to your skin.

Harry looks at Y/Nu with wide eyes, and she understands the meaning in them: this is so much more than just touching, and so much more than two friends using each other for mutual pleasure. With every touch, they further cross a line, and neither of them can stop.

With this realization, Harry’s movements become more cautious. His hands come to rest on her sides, his thumbs just brushing the side of her breast.

“You’re fine.” Y/N assures him in a soothing voice. “Keep going.”

“Are you fine?” He counters, his voice an equal mix of concern and need.

“H.” Y/N takes his hands in her own and places them over her breasts. “Like that. Touch me like that.”

Harry sucks in a short breath as she manipulates his hands, showing him how to rub her and touch her. After a few moments, she lets her hands move to his neck, pulling him in for another kiss.

Y/N begins to grind against him, desperate for a bit of friction. Their kisses are soon accented with their moans as they each pull the other closer in lust and need.

Still, underneath the physical desires, there’s a current running between them. Y/N knows it’s been there for the last few weeks, humming quietly in the back of her mind, but being here, now, with Harry touching her, it’s come alive like an electric fence. She can’t turn it off, and she doesn’t want to. She doesn’t want to in the slightest.

Harry begins to kiss down her neck like before, but this time his kisses are anything but chaste. When he reaches her breast, he kisses around them before taking one of her nipples into his mouth.

“Oh fuck—” Y/N arches her back, fingers tangling in his hair to pull him closer. “Harry…”

He hums against her, and his spare hand rubs her back like he does when they get ready to sleep. Usually, the motion is calming, but right now, Y/N feels anything but calm.

Harry continues until he’s satisfied with his work, and then he kisses his way to her other breast, wrapping his lips against her other nipple. He spends just as much time on that one, letting his teeth graze it ever so slightly before soothing the action with his tongue.

When he pulls back, there’s a little line of spit connecting Harry’s mouth to her nipple, and Y/N whimpers at the sight.

“H…” She runs her finger through the line before gripping his chin with her thumb and forefinger. The need inside her builds, as does her fondness for the man in front of her. “God…”

Harry tweaks her hard nipple with his finger, gentle enough so as not to hurt her, but enough to make a gasp fall from her mouth. He offers no response in the form of words, but the hungry look in his eyes has only increased.

“Let me…” Y/N climbs off of his lap, gently pushing him to lay back on the bed. “Yeah?”

Harry runs a hand through his messy curls, nodding quickly. “You want that?”

“Yeah.” Y/N nods too, pressing a wet kiss to his swollen lips. “So bad. Yeah.”

Her hands move to the waistband of his shorts, and Harry lifts his hips off the bed. Y/N tugs down his boxers in the same movement, and tosses both articles of clothing to the side before looking back at him.

Harry’s cock is just as beautiful as she remembers it being the morning she accidentally walked in on him. Even more so, she thinks, because now he’s hard, and the head is the most appetizing shade of pink, with drops of precum pearling at the top. When Y/N wraps her hand around his girth, she adores the heat that she feels.

“So pretty…” She says the words almost to herself, and strokes him lightly to get used to the feeling of him in her hand. “I just want to…”

Y/N leans down and flicks her tongue over his tip, collecting the precum gathered there. In return, a strangled moan leaves Harry’s throat as his arm moves to cover his eyes for a moment.

Y/N presses a kiss to the head of his cock before she continues licking, reveling in the sounds Harry makes. She had no doubt, with a voice as angelic as his, that his moans and whines and whimpers would be just as beautiful.

When she wraps her lips around the head and sucks, she feels Harry’s hand move to her hair. She looks up at him without lifting off of his cock, staring him in the eye as she takes more and more of him into her mouth.

“Fuck—” Another moan leaves Harry’s lips, more strained than the last. “That’s it…” He tugs on her hair, but doesn’t push her down. Even when lost in pleasure, he’s careful with her.

Y/N loves him for it.

Pacing herself, she takes more and more of him into her mouth until her nose is pressed to the base of his stomach, brushing against his (neatly trimmed) pubic hair. She stays down for just a moment before pulling up completely to breathe, but keeps her hand on him, stroking him slowly.

“You look so good.” Harry mutters, running his hands over her hair in a soothing motion. “I imagined it, but didn’t think…so much better…”

Y/N moves to push her head back down, but Harry stops her, bringing her up for a kiss instead.

“I want to taste you, now.” He tells her, laying her down on the pillows. “Is that alright?”

Y/N nods desperately, feeling even more heat rush to her core and pool there. “Mhmm.”

Harry kisses his way down her body again, slipping his fingers into the waistband of her shorts. He leaves her panties on as he pulls the shorts down, and lets out a low groan at the sight of her pink Calvin Klein panties, and more specifically, the dark pink spot that’s apparent on them.

“You’re soaked…” He presses a kiss to her sensitive inner thigh before brushing a finger over the wet spot.

Y/N jumps a bit, making a sound in the back of her throat. “Harry!”

“Sorry.” He kisses her thigh again. “I’m sorry. Just relax, yeah? It’s just me. I got you.”

Harry continues to kiss along her inner thighs, moving closer and closer to the thin cloth covering her center. When he presses his first kiss to the fabric, Y/N grasps the sheets in her hands.

“God…” She whispers, fists clenched.

Harry reaches up and takes one of her hands, placing it in his hair wordlessly before kissing over her again, his tongue peaking out just a bit.

The torture continues for what feels like forever, with Harry teasing her over the soaked fabric of her panties. Finally, Y/N sighs in relief as she feels his hands grip the fabric, and she lifts her hips eagerly as he tugs the article of clothing down.

The first thing she feels is his hot breath hitting her core, which is enough to make her legs reflexively close with pleasure. Harry’s hand grips her leg, pushing them back open as he takes in the sight of her dripping cunt before him.

“Fuck…” He inhales deeply, committing her scent to memory. “Your pussy is so gorgeous.”

Y/N whimpers at his words and tugs on his curls. “Please, H…I need you.”

“Need me?” Harry asks in a husky voice, his finger touching her outer lips just barely.

“Yes!” Y/N whines, not caring how she sounds. “Never needed anything more…”

Harry runs his finger over her slit, collecting the wetness dripping from her. YN moans loudly at the contact, not fully relieved but grateful for the light touch.

“So fucking wet.” Harry’s voice sounds not completely his own. “Fuck, Y/N, how are you so wet?”

Y/N feels heat rush to her cheeks, and she mumbles her reply in what’s almost an embarrassed voice. “You know exactly how.”

“Don’t even know what to do first.” Harry ignores her reply, lost in his own world as he continues stroking her slit. “Just want…”

He presses into her without warning, and Y/N arches her back off the bed as Harry’s finger slips into her cunt. His cold rings touch the top of her entrance as Harry pauses inside her, his eyes heavy with lust.

“And so tight.” He moans, biting his lip hard enough to leave a mark. “Oh my God…”

He curves his finger inside her, wanting to feel every inch of her that he can. Y/N continues to whimper above him.

“More.” She begs him, pushing back against his finger. “I can take more, Harry, please.”

Harry easily slips enough finger in, repeating his motion as she pushes back on him. However, the pressure building inside Y/N disappears abruptly as his fingers do, and she’s just about to get angry at him when she feels his tongue replace his fingers.

“Fuck!” She exclaims loudly, her eyes closing as she throws her head back. “Harry—!”

Harry moves his tongue in and out of her, loving the taste of her juices in his mouth. He moves further up to her clit, licking and sucking over the sensitive bundle of nerves as Y/N writhes above him.

“Taste so good.” He growls from between her thighs. “Fuck, Y/N…you’re going to cum for me, yeah?” He asks as he reaches up and grips her hands in his, interlocking their fingers. “Tell me you’re going to cum for me.”

Another strangled moan leaves Y/N’s mouth as he speaks. “I-I’m so close, Harry. Keep going, please.”

“Tell me.” He demands, licking over her clit again. “Tell me you’re going to cum for me.”

Y/N grinds against his tongue as she grips his hands tighter. “I’m going—fuck—I’m going to cum for you, H. I’m going—”

Harry sucks hard on her clit, and Y/N throws her head back as an orgasm hits her harder than ever before. Her thighs clench shut, trapping Harry’s head between them, but he just continues to lap at the juices flowing from her cunt while making the most obscene sounds Y/N has ever heard.

Harry doesn’t pull back until Y/N unclenches her thighs, and before he does, he presses one last kiss to her clit, making her flinch.

Y/N is so exhausted she can barely open her eyes. Once she does, however, and sees Harry, she feels all the exhaustion fade.

Harry’s lips are, somehow, even more red than before, and his whole chin is slick with her wetness. He keeps licking his lips, like he can’t get enough of the taste, and Y/N feels like her whole body is on fire.

“Harry…” She whispers, squeezing his hand again. She doesn’t know what else to say.

Harry lifts himself over her body, which is still shaking from her orgasm, and kisses her gently. She can taste herself on his mouth, and she adores it.

“You taste so fucking good.” He murmurs, pressing his sweaty forehead against hers. “Like candy.”

Y/N swallows hard. “I haven’t—no one’s done that in a long time.”

“I’ll be glad to do it again.” Harry replies, brushing her hair back. “But right now…all I want to do is make love to you.” He looks at her with sincere eyes. “Will you let me?”

The tenderness of him asking almost brings tears to her eyes, and Y/N nods, her hands coming up to cup his rosy cheeks. “Yeah, H. I’m…” She bites her lip as she realizes the truth of her words. “I’m yours. Always.”

Harry inhales sharply before kissing her softly, his hands stroking her hair in a comforting fashion again. “How do you want to…?”

“I want you on top.” Y/N replies, touching his swallow tattoos. “I-I want to feel you. Feel your weight. Feel you close.”

With a nod, Harry positions himself over her, spreading her legs wide enough that his body can fit between. He holds himself up with one hand and uses the other to guide his cock to Y/N’s folds, just brushing the head over them. He’s teasing himself just as much as her.

“Harry…” Y/N leans her head back at the sensation. “Please, H…”

“I don’t—wait—” Harry pauses his movements, and Y/N can see on his face the strength and discipline it takes for him to do so. “I—a condom—”

“I’m clean, and I have an IUD.” Y/N assures him, running her hand along his shoulders. “Are you?”

Harry nods. “Yeah, I am, but—are you sure?”

As Y/N looks into his eyes, the love and concern and want written all over them, she knows she’s never been more sure of anything in her life. “I want to feel you, without anything in between. I—” She takes a deep breath and presses a kiss to his jaw. “Yeah. I’m sure.”

Harry presses a kiss to her forehead, and the tender action makes Y/N close her eyes as she revels in the feeling. A moment later, Harry moves down again and puts his forehead against hers as he pushes into her.

The moment he enters her, Y/N feels a fullness she’s never experienced before. Not only is Harry stretching her cunt in a way that feels euphoric, but she feels complete. He’s as close to her as he’s ever been, his breath is mingling with hers, his body weight is held over her carefully, and Y/N thinks she could die in the pleasure of this moment happily.

“Y/N…baby…” The pet name seems to fall easily from Harry’s lips as he bottoms out, holding himself still to adjust to the feeling. “Oh my God…”

Y/N digs her fingernails into Harry’s shoulders, pressing kisses to his lips between gasps for breath. “Move, H, please.”

Harry begins to thrust his hips, setting a slow but deep pace before gradually speeding up. While part of Y/N wishes he would thrust as fast as he can, a deeper part of her is grateful that Harry is taking his time with her. This feeling, now that she has it, is better than anything she’d ever felt before, and Y/N doesn’t want it to end anytime soon.

Harry kisses Y/N again as he moves inside her. Although they’re as close as they’ve ever been, each of them keeps pulling the other closer. As Harry thrusts deeper, Y/N pulls more of his weight down on her. As Y/N scratches her nails down his back, Harry kisses her jaw. Neither of them can process exactly what they’re doing, but neither of them can stop. Each touch is tender, each kiss is passionate, and each moment brings them closer together in so many more ways than just physical.

They don’t speak except for the occasional whisper from Y/N for Harry to move faster, or the occasional moan of Y/N’s name falling from Harry’s lips. The only constant sounds in the room are of the slickness between Y/N’s thighs as Harry moves between them, the sound of his skin meeting hers, both of them panting and moaning, and a few whispers of “please” that are barely audible. Despite the lack of speech, however, the two are in constant communication. Kissing, biting, scratching, and squeezing have become the vocabulary of their new language. When Harry looks into Y/N’s wet eyes, he knows that she feels something running through the very depths of her being. When Y/N feels Harry tuck his head between her neck and her shoulder as he whimpers, she knows that he trusts her to comfort him and hold him there.

Soon, Y/N feels the waves of pleasure begin to build, and she knows that when they finally break, they’ll pull her under. “H, I—fuck—I—” She can’t manage to form the sentence she needs to.

Harry, however, can tell exactly what she’s going to say. “Please.” He pants, adoring how she buries her head into his shoulder. “Please, love, cum for me…” He kisses over the shell of her ear as he thrusts deeper. “Need you.”

Y/N whimpers, biting down on Harry’s shoulder as her orgasm rolls over her. Harry feels her walls tighten around his cock, but he doesn’t slow down, and he works her through her climax until she whines in his ear.

“So good, H…” Y/N can barely find the strength to whisper the phrase.

Hearing her sound so fucked out, feeling her cunt squeezing him, and seeing the euphoria on her face is enough to bring Harry to the edge. He slows his thrusts, about to pull out, but Y/N presses on his back to keep him close.

Harry groans as a shiver rolls through his body. “I’m about to cum, Y/N—”

“Stay inside me.” She pleads, pressing the pads of her fingers between his shoulder blades. “I-I’m yours, Harry, I told you. Yours.”

Y/N looks up at him with such trusting and vulnerable eyes that Harry can’t make himself argue with her. He nods instead, his thrusts increasing in speed again until he feels himself reach the edge of pleasure.

As he freefalls into Y/N, his hips stutter, and he presses deep inside her while her name falls from his lips over and over again. He can’t think of anything else to say. He can’t think of anything else worth saying.

When Harry finally manages to pull himself together enough to pull out, Y/N instantly feels the emptiness inside her. She wishes he would stay, but knows that it’s not practical, and instead just relishes in the feeling of his cum dripping from her entrance. It’s like he’s claimed her as his, left a physical mark of himself, and Y/N doesn’t have the strength to stop herself from loving it.

They lay in silence for a few moments, trying to catch their breath and regain a sense of where they are. Both Harry and Y/N are sweaty, exhausted, and covered in each other in more ways than one. The wrap on Harry’s tattoo has slipped from his arm. Somewhere in their pleasure, Y/N has lost an earring. And yet, the only thing each of them cares about is looking at the other.

Out of instinct, Harry pulls Y/N’s shivering body into his, wrapping his arms around her tightly. He can’t imagine she’s cold, and Y/N can’t bring herself to tell him she’s shivering because of the feeling of being so close to him, but neither of them denies the other of the affectionate gesture.

Y/N loses track of how long they lay there until Harry breaks the silence.

“I—” His voice cracks, and he clears it quickly before trying again. “I’ll get you a cloth to—to clean you up.”

Y/N nods, and Harry gently untangles himself from her before going to the bathroom. Y/N can hear the running of water, and turns her head to see what he’s doing, but when she spots his naked silhouette, she closes her eyes. Despite what they just did, there’s a shyness in her still when she sees him completely stripped.

Her eyes stay closed, and she only detects his return from feeling his weight return to the bed. He places a gentle hand on her trembling knee, pulling her open ever so slightly.

“’M just cleaning you up.” Harry says in a quiet tone. “Is that okay?”

Y/N nods again. She’s not certain she has enough strength to say anything.

Harry wipes between her legs with a gentle touch, watching how she flinches at the slightest of pressure. “I’m sorry.” He says sincerely, kissing her knee tenderly before continuing. “You’re sensitive, I know. Almost done.”

Once he finishes wiping away the cum dripping out of her (his cum dripping out of her), Harry tosses the cloth onto his pile of clothes on the ground, deciding it can be dealt with later. His most pressing concern at the moment is Y/N.

He lays back down on his side so he can face her, and pushes a lock of hair away from her closed eyes.

“Y/N.” Harry murmurs, hand resting on her waist carefully. “Talk to me. Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” Her voice is rough when she answers, and Harry can hear the echo of her moans in her words. “I-I’m fine, H. Just…tired.”

“Do you…” Harry bites his lip. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Y/N gives a slight shake of her head. “Maybe—maybe tomorrow, yeah?” She does her best to open one eye, but quickly shuts it again when she sees how Harry is looking at her. “Can’t right now.”

“Okay.” Harry lays his arm over her side as he moves closer. “Tomorrow.”

Y/N presses her head into his shoulder and commits the scent of his skin to memory.

…

The first thing Y/N registers when she wakes up is the feeling of someone touching her hair.

She doesn’t need to open her eyes to know it’s Harry. Of course it’s Harry. It’s always been Harry. In every way.

Y/N sighs and readjusts her position in bed, moving a bit closer to Harry. She shivers once from the cold, still naked from last night’s activities, and that’s the only hint Harry needs before he pulls the sheet up around her more.

“Are you awake?” He asks softly, careful in case she’s still lost deep in sleep.

Y/N moves her head in a passable nodding motion, and her voice is thick with sleep when she answers. “Mhmm. Barely.”

A low chuckle escapes from Harry’s mouth, and the next thing Y/N feels are his warm lips against her cheek. “How are you feeling?”

“A little hungover. A little sore.” Y/N finally opens her eyes as she speaks, and almost wishes she hadn’t.

Harry’s hair is a mess from both sex and sleep, messy and wild and haphazardly pushed out of his eyes. His cheeks are flushed, and his neck and chest are covered in marks from both Y/N’s lips and fingers. She knows that if he turned over, his back would be the same, and it embarrasses her and delights her at the same time. He looks completely fucked and content, and more relaxed than she’s seen him in ages.

Y/N wonders if she looks the same. If she looks as pretty.

“Sorry.” Harry says, his tone a bit sheepish.

“It’s not your fault.” Y/N replies, shrugging a bit.

“Well…it is, actually. I made your drinks. And I…” He trails off, brushing his fingers down her bare hip to her thigh.

“Yeah.” Y/N feels her face get warm. “I guess it is your fault.”

Harry laughs lightly, but it fades away as he looks into her eyes. “We, uh…we should probably talk about what happened.”

Y/N purses her lips. “Yeah. We should.”

“So…first question, I guess.” Harry props his head up on his arm, but keeps running his fingers over Y/N’s hip gently. “Do you regret it?”

Y/N sits up a bit more in bed, clutching the sheet to her bare chest. “No. I don’t. Do you?”

“No.” Harry replies instantly. “I don’t regret it.”

“Okay.” Y/N is so aware of Harry’s eyes on her as she thinks of her question. “Did…did you enjoy it?”

A snort falls from Harry’s mouth, and he shakes his head incredulously. “Christ, Y/N, of course I enjoyed it. It felt—you felt like heaven.”

Y/N flushes at the comment. “I’ve never…I’ve always made my partners wear condoms. So that was a first for me.”

Harry’s fingers pause over her hip, but only for a moment. It looks as though he’s deciding whether or not he should comment on that, but changes his mind at the last moment. “Did you enjoy it?” He asks instead, echoing your question.

“I did.”

“You said you were mine.”

Y/N swallows hard. This conversation is less incriminating than making love to him last night, but it seems infinitely more powerful. Probably because they’re both sober, she thinks.

“That—” She clears her throat. “That’s not a question.”

Harry sighs, but there’s an endeared smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “You said you were mine. Did you mean that?”

Y/N can’t look him in the eyes, so she looks down instead. Harry’s hand lies between them, and she intertwines their fingers, playing with his rings as she carefully formulates her answer. “I’ve—I’ve always been yours, H. Ever since we were kids, I’ve belonged to you.” She runs a finger over his H ring. “Even when you were gone.”

Harry frowns a bit at the tone of her voice. “I’ve been yours too, Y/N. I belong to you just as much as you belong to me.”

“You’ve always been further out of reach.” Y/N pulls her hand from his, until their fingertips are just barely touching. “Always just…a little out of reach.”

Harry intertwines their fingers again. “I’m not out of reach. Not right now. And I’ve never—if you ever called me and said you needed me, I would’ve been on the first flight back home to you. I would’ve dropped everything for you, Y/N. I still would, and I always will.”

Tears prick Y/N’s eyes, and although she hurries to close them, one slips out. Harry catches it on his finger before it can run off her cheek, and when she looks at him again, there’s a concerned look on his face.

“C’mere.” Harry mumbles, pulling Y/N into a tight hug. He rubs her back like he always does, and the motion is so comforting that she almost forgets the vulnerable position they’re both in. “You’re my girl. You’re always going to be my girl.” He murmurs in her ear, voice low and soothing. “Always. Don’t you know that?”

Y/N nods, not trusting her voice at the moment.

“If this is too much for you…” Harry traces his fingers between her shoulder blades. Y/N thinks he’s tracing words, like they used to as children, but she can’t tell what words he may be tracing. “I understand. We can just—we can pretend it didn’t happen.”

“I—” Y/N shakes her head, looking up at Harry. “I don’t want to do that.”

“Then what do you want, Y/N?” Harry asks, his tone as pleading as it was last night. “All I’ve ever tried to do is give you what you want, and usually I’m pretty good at telling what that is, but right now, I’m lost. I don’t want things to go back to how they were, but I don’t—I can’t lose you, so just—if you just tell me what you want, I’ll do it. I’ll make it work. I promise that I won’t be mad, or hurt, or anything.”

Y/N sits up as best she can, her fingers combing through Harry’s messy curls on reflex, as she always does it when he gets upset. “I can’t pretend that I don’t want you, H. I do. I need you. I told you that last night.”

“But you’re crying.” Harry cups her wet cheek gently, rubbing his thumb along her cheekbone. “I hate that.”

Y/N leans into his touch. “It just feels…strange.” She says after a moment. “All of this. I spent so long trying to stop myself from thinking of you like this, and now that I am, I feel like—like it’s wrong.”

Harry tugs on his bottom lip with his teeth. “Does it feel wrong?”

His low voice makes her shiver. “No. It feels right. Really right.”

“I feel like…” Harry’s eyes flicker between Y/N’s own eyes and their intertwined hands. “I feel like we’re both dancing around saying it.”

Y/N sucks in a breath. “Saying what?”

“Saying…” Harry leans in and presses a soft kiss to her lips. “Saying that we’re in love with each other.”

Y/N feels breathless at the words coming from his mouth. “You’re in love with me?”

“Are you not in love with me?” He replies, moving so he’s leaning over her more. “We’ve said I love you so many times before.”

“That’s a different kind of love.” Y/N mumbles, touching the chain dangling from Harry’s neck.

“But we were both meaning something different when we were saying it. At least, I was.” Harry inhales deeply, like he’s centering himself. “I’ve known…for a while, but I’ve felt it for longer than I’ve known it. And I thought that you might…”

“I think I do.” Y/N whispers. “But saying it feels so—so permanent. Like we can’t go back to being friends if it blows up in our faces.”

Harry traces a finger down Y/N’s cheek, her neck, between her breasts, to her side, touching just below her ribs. “Maybe we can’t. But I don’t think we’ll want to, Y/N. I think we’re perfect for each other.”

Y/N’s heart pounds in her chest. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Harry nods. “This last month, it’s been like we’ve been…playing house, or something. I’ve loved it. I keep hearing from friends saying that they’re so sick of the person they’re living with, so tired of them, but I’ve never felt that way about you, and I don’t think I ever will. I’ll never get sick of you.”

Y/N laughs a bit. “That’s romantic.”

“Shut up.” Harry can’t help but smile slightly. “It is romantic.”

“Yeah. It is.” Y/N says softly, her hand rubbing over Harry’s tattooed arm. “You’re really in love with me?”

Harry nods. “I am.”

“Huh.” Y/N bites her lip. “So I guess we’ve been lying to our moms, haven’t we?”

Harry laughs loudly, collapsing on the bed next to Y/N. “Jesus, can you not mention our mums when we’re naked in bed?”

“I’m just saying! We’ve been saying for years that you’re not in love with me, and it’s all been a lie.”

“What about when they ask if you’re in love with me?” Harry’s tone is joking, but there’s a hint of nervousness in the back of his voice. “Has that been a lie, too?”

Y/N’s heart pounds as she nods. “Yeah. We’ll have to get them something really good for Mother’s Day this year to help make up for it.”

A grin spreads over Harry’s face, almost triumphant, as he leans down to kiss her. “Agreed.” He moves to cage himself over Y/N. “But I want to hear you say it.”

“Say what?”

“I want to hear you say that you’re in love with me.” Harry’s grin turns into a smirk.

Y/N flushes as she shakes her head. “You say it first.”

“I’ve already admitted it!”

“So have I!”

“Not as well as I have!”

“Oh, so it’s a competition now?” Y/N scoffs. “What a wonderful start to our relationship.”

“I’m just saying, Y/N, admitting it is the first step to—”

“Are you seriously going to say that to get me to say that I love you?”

“Just—”

“You’re so irritating—”

“I’m irritating? You—”

“You’re the worst!”

“And yet you’re in my bed with no clothes on!”

“Okay. Nope. Relationship over.” Y/N pushes Harry off of her and wraps the sheet around herself as she gets out of bed. “You blew it, Styles.”

“Y/N.” Laughter falls from Harry’s lips as he leans over the edge of the bed. “Love. Come back to bed.”

“I think a minute and thirty-seven seconds may be the record for the world’s shortest relationship.” Y/N searches her bag for some clean clothes.

“Come here!”

“Another world record for Harry Styles.” Y/N calls to him without turning around. “You must be so proud—”

Her words are cut off in a shriek as Harry picks her up, throwing her over his shoulder as he brings her back to his bed.

“Harry!” She yells, hitting his arm. “Put me down!”

Harry tosses her on the bed, gentle enough so as not to hurt her, and cages himself over her sheet-covered body. He’s still completely bare. “Take it back.”

Y/N rolls her eyes. “Fine. We’re still together. One less record for you.”

“Good. Now…” Harry brushes a finger over her lips. “Say you’re in love with me.”

Y/N’s laughter fades a bit as the nerves set back in. “I…”

“Please, Y/N?” Harry murmurs, leaning down to kiss her neck. “Please say it.”

“I’m—” Y/N sucks in a quick breath, and all of her protest leaves her body as she exhales. “I’m in love with you, Harry.”

She can feel Harry’s lips forming a grin against her neck. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Y/N tugs on his hair gently, just enough so she can pull his head back to look in his eyes. “Now you say it.”

“Y/N.” Harry says her name like it’s something precious. “I’m in love with you.”

A flush of pleasure crawls up Y/N’s spine at his words, but she does her best to keep her tone light-hearted. “So are you calling our moms, or am I?”

“I’ll do it.” Harry reaches for his phone on the bedside table. “And I’ll be sure to mention how it took us getting drunk and having sex to realize—”

“Harry!”

“Don’t worry, I’ll tell your mum we used a condom—”

“I’ll kill you, Styles, and I’ll make it look like an accident.” Y/N shoves his shoulder hard.

Harry grins at her. “Now that’s romantic.”

#feedback is appreciated and use a condom kids #harry styles oneshot #bestfriend!harry #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagine #harry styles fic #harry styles preference #one direction imagine #one direction preference #one direction fic #one direction fanfiction #one direction #best friend!harry sty;es #watermelon sugar #watermelon sugar music video #fine line album

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