#but at least it’s finally not so hot I can knit in the car <3 it’s the little things in life

[journeyman-tier-fibercraft]

WIP Wednesday, here is three of my 9(!!!) wips

[tinyyoungblood]

okay amazing here goes...so SOUR has been on repeat and your one-shot based on the album was super cute and just EVERYTHING 🥺 but also i was listening to 'traitor' the other day and the first line goes "brown guilty eyes and little white lies" and i just. the entire song puts me in the feels over a boyfriend i never had but anyway i was thinking what if...angst with peter parker!! maybe he's been more distant lately and lying about where he's been at nights or something? i'm not sure the world is your oyster!! thank you in advance💘 hehe

strangers with memories | peter parker

pairing: peter parker x reader

warnings: pure angst

a/n: “the world is your oyster” lol you’re so sweet <3 we don’t claim the peter parker in this fic because he knows better than this. enjoy x

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It was nights like these that made you feel like everything was exactly how it was supposed to be. The window was opened, leaving outside noise from the street to breeze in and blend in with the lo-fi beats playing quietly from Peter’s laptop.

Your legs were tangled under a soft blanket as Peter showed you outfit pictures from his Pinterest board, asking for your opinion. It simply made sense. The world felt at peace.

“No, I don’t think you understand. Orange and teal look really good together, see.” Peter turned his phone around to show you his screen. You squinted at the brightness, but once your eyes adjusted, you burst out laughing.

“Sure, if you want look like Perry the Platypus. Get that away from me.” You shoved his hand away and Peter grinned. He swiped to another picture with the same colours combination, and you shrieked. “Not the brown beanie! Dr. Doofenshmirtz would have a field day with this.”

Peter chuckled. He rose to his feet and tossed his phone next to you on the mattress. “I’m going to the bathroom”, he declared with an air of casualness that made you crack a smile. He was halfway through the doorway when he popped his head back in and asked, “You want anything?”

“From the bathroom?” You looked up from your phone.

Peter shrugged, the corner of his mouth twitching upward. “Uh-huh.”

You suppressed your smile. “I’m good, thanks.” He gave you another shrug and left the bathroom, whistling a tune you didn’t know.

Not a second later, Peter’s phone gave off a subtle ping. It wasn’t your intention to look, but reflexes made you glance at it from the corner of your eyes. You regretted it instantly. Your shoulders tensed. It was just a text message—nothing scandalous, but the contact name made your stomach drop.

MJ.

Her name popped up on Peter’s phone screen more often than not. You really didn’t want to be bothered. You knew they were only friends, but you could already see the broad smile edging his face as he read the message. You hated where your thoughts had taken you.

Peter trusted you and you wanted to trust him as well, desperately. You demanded yourself to take the high ground. It still felt stupid and your chest caved in just at the thought of Peter grinning at his phone. He barely even answered your texts anymore.

You could already hear the white lies he was going to feed you. But you felt yourself wanting to keep the white lies. At least, that meant getting to keep Peter. All you could do was swallow the lump in your throat and take a deep breath. The world still blurred around you.

“May asked if you’re in the mood for Thai food.” Your gaze shot to Peter’s. He was leaning against the door frame, arms folded over his chest with the same calm expression as before. Don’t ruin this. Keep the peace.

You forced a smile. “Thanks, but I don’t like Thai food.”

Peter frowned at that. “Since when? You’ve always liked it.” He appeared almost affronted before realisation crossed his face. “Oh wait, my bad, MJ liked it. We actually just had Thai food together the other night with Ned.” A private smile curled around his lips at the memory.

“Sounds nice,” you replied weakly. It was all you could say.

Peter didn’t seem to mind. He pushed himself off and strolled over, picking up his phone to see the texts he had just received. He chuckled softly at whatever he had been sent and punched in a reply.

You simply sat there, fiddling with the blanket that suddenly felt too hot. Say something, the voice inside your head demanded. Be exciting. Don’t make him lose interest. Your hands curled into a fist. You felt ridiculous.

“So about Friday night,” you began awkwardly, feeling suddenly very out of place although there was nobody else in the room. Peter’s eyes were bright with delight as he typed away on his phone.

“Hm?” He said, and you had a feeling it wasn’t because he wanted to you to go on. He just wasn’t sure if you had spoken at all.

Your cheeks hurt from forcing a smile. “Are you going to pick me up or should we just meet there?”

Peter’s eyebrows creased. “Meet you where?”

“At the movies,” you said curtly. “We wanted to watch that movie, remember? It was your idea.” The bite in your tone finally made Peter look up. It was like watching a slow car crash.

“Was it?” Peter mused, and you nodded stiffly.

“Oh.”

From somewhere on the street, you heard people arguing. Their sharp voices cut into the room and drilled themselves into your chest. Don’t let this be us. That isn’t us. We’re better than that. You fixed your eyes on the curve of Peter’s neck, concentrating on his breathing to feel like he wasn’t drifting away. In reality, you knew that the ship was already leaving the harbour and there was nothing you could do.

“Sorry,” Peter finally said, lips pursed. “I kind of already made plans with MJ. Her uncle has this cool train collection that she wanted to show me. She told me about it at lunch today and I’m really excited. It’s pretty awesome.”

Your face dropped and he had the good sense to add, “But we can always catch the movie on Monday night if you want.”

“Why not on the weekend?” A part of you dreaded to hear the answer.

Peter didn’t hesitate as he waved you off. “Ned and I wanted to get started on that new Lego set I told you about.” You had no recollection of that. Peter’s eyes flickered to you before another text message came in, demanding his full attention. The sound made you feel nauseous. The ship was a dot now, fading into the horizon while you were still stranded.

“You can join us if you want,” Peter offered with eyes glued to his phone. “MJ is going to bring Thai food, I think.”

You didn’t bother to reply. You felt claustrophobic. Pushing yourself off his bed, you headed for the window. It was already opened by a crack, but you needed fresh air. It was almost overwhelming when you stepped over the window sill and let yourself out onto the fire escape. The stairs screeched but you didn’t care for the noise. What you needed was proof that there was more out there.

The railing was cold as you wrapped your hands around them. Each window across the street was alit in numerous colours. Silhouettes moved in those colours—people with their own lives and sorrows. The world continued to live.

You settled on one of the stairs and stared up at the night sky. No stars, nothing. You were really stuck at the harbour. Peter’s room was glowing in purple thanks to the LED strips you had set up together a few weeks ago. He had bought old vinyl records and you spent the entire night rating them until sunlight pooled in through the curtains. It all felt like a pipe dream now.

You didn’t know how long you’d been sitting outside by yourself. All you knew were the colour blocks of windows, shifting in and out of blurriness. You had been too busy watching the ship sail away that you only now realised how much you had starved yourself. One good night wasn’t going to change that. Your mind was just really good at leaving out the bad parts.

“Here you are.” Peter’s voice caught you off guard. You turned away, wiping your tearstained cheeks hastily as he watched you with knitted brows. “I just came to tell you that I invited Ned and MJ over. I hope that’s fine.”

When you didn’t reply, Peter stepped out and sat on the window sill. “You okay?”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes. “Do I look okay to you?”

“Well,” he said, “You’ve been acting weird all week, so…I’m not sure”

“I have been acting weird?” You echoed.

Peter hesitated but lifted his shoulder in a half shrug. “Yeah, but you’re always smiling, so I just assume you’re all right.”

“You can’t be serious,” you said bitterly, tucking your hands under your thighs to stop them from shaking. “Just look what we’ve become. You can’t even tell anymore if I’m putting on a fake smile.”

“What are you talking about?” He cocked his head to the side.

“Oh, you know.” You waved your hand at nothing. “Air pollution, climate change, everything and nothing these days. But you wouldn’t know, would you.”

“Y/N,” Peter said with an edge to his voice. “Are you going to tell me what this is really about?”

You hadn’t realised that you had started pacing until his question made you halt and whip around. There was acid in your tone as you snapped, “Don’t you miss me at all?”

“What?” Peter looked stumped. “We see each other every day at school. You’re literally standing in front of me right now.”

You scoffed and sat back down on the stairs. “Love really does make people blind,” you murmured and stared at the sky. Maybe it was going to rain.

Peter exhaled sharply and knelt before you, lowering your chin to look you in the eye. He thought he could find an answer in them, but you knew that if he’d been blind to it all this time, he wasn’t going to see it now. “I don’t know what you want me to say,” he admitted, and your chest ached.

You wrapped your arms around yourself. “I want you. That’s all I wanted.”

“Wanted? You have me.” Peter pressed his lips together. “You have me right now, Y/N.”

“I don’t.” You couldn’t help but laugh bitterly. “MJ has you. She’s had you for a while now, and I’m just here watching you both from afar.”

Peter opened his mouth, most likely wanting to deny it, but no sounds came out. He simply stared and stared and stared. Your heart was racing. There was no way back, so you went on, “I don’t care if you’re just friends. I really don’t care, because it hurts just as much knowing that I still let you treat me like that. I miss you and you’re sitting right in front of me. And you know what the worst part is?”

Memories flooded your mind, bricking you like thorns. You devoured them, hungrily, because you were used to living on crumbs. Peter holding you in his arms. Peter looking tenderly after your wounds and kissing your tears. Peter turning sorrow into bliss until you were drunk on laughter and the sky was dusted in stars.

A sad smile hung to your lips. “I still think the world of you. All those nights when I had prayed for someone like you. Someone who could be my safe person and I could be theirs—I thought I had that with you.”

“You do,” Peter hissed, and at once you wondered where he found the strength to believe his own lies. He sighed. “I promise you, you did. It’s just…” Your throat went dry as he bit his tongue. “It’s not something you can control, okay? Maybe you’re just not my only safe person anymore. It’s…it’s not a big deal.” Peter’s gaze dropped as your breath caught.

You were glad you were sitting. There was no doubt that your knees would’ve given out otherwise. His confession felt like a punch to the gut. That small, pathetic voice inside your head screamed and trashed, denying everything he’d just said. A part of you was always so hopeful—Peter used to love that about you.

Remember, it tried to reason, he promised he would never hurt you. Remember how it felt to have his arms around you. It couldn’t have been a lie. None of it could’ve been a lie. You squeezed your eyes shut.

“You’re not actually sorry,” you heard yourself say. “You’re just saying that to feel good about yourself. If you were sorry, you would’ve never made all those promises—” You didn’t have it in yourself to continue. No words would’ve done you justice anyway. “If you’re just going to keep hurting me, then leave me alone.”

Something dark flared in his brown eyes. “Leave you alone?” asked Peter incredulously. “This is stupid and you know it. All of this, just because I’m friends with MJ. Don’t you think it’s a little ridiculous? We’re just friends. There’s no reason for you to get paranoid.”

“I’m being paranoid now?” Your eyes narrowed.

“That’s what I would call it, yes.”

“Then tell me this.” You jumped to your feet. “Last week, when Mr. Harrison took points off my assignment because I supposedly handed it in too late, why didn’t you speak up for me? You were there, you knew I handed it in time. All I needed was for you to tell him the truth, but you didn’t say a damn thing. Now I’m failing that class, and you know why this is the first time you’re hearing about this?”

Peter remained silent, but his eyes flickered, and the crease between his brows was evidence enough.

“Because you were too distracted giggling with MJ in the back. You didn’t even notice when I stormed out of that room, so don’t lie to yourself, Peter. You haven’t been by my side in a while now.”

You shook your head when Peter averted his gaze. Of course, he had nothing to say. Both of you knew it wasn’t just about that class. It was about the missed calls, the empty words, and all the times he had stood you up and let you down. At least he respected you enough to not deny it. No more white lies.

“See, this is the thing,” you began, swinging your leg over the window sill to step inside the room. You faced Peter and waited until his gaze drifted to yours. “You gave me your word and I was stupid enough to believe you. I trusted you. It was supposed to be you and me against the world, but you sat back and watched it beat me down because you were too busy falling in love with somebody else.”

Peter’s expression shifted and you turned your back to him. Seeing his frustration replaced by realisation was something you knew you couldn’t stomach.

So you made to leave. It was only when you were halfway through the room that you recognised the feeling simmering in your gut as something a bit different than resentment. You looked back over your shoulder, eyebrows lowered, and struggled to find your voice.

“Peter?”

It was barely a whisper, but you knew he heard you. He tore his gaze from the floor and looked at you. Wild storms were trapped in his eyes, an ocean rising. It was devasting to look at.

But it was then that you realised, that although Peter had never cheated on you, his brown guilty eyes still made him a traitor. You took a deep breath.

“Just don’t treat her how you treated me,” was all you said. And with that, you were gone.

* * *

i’d really appreciate if you left some feedback since i barely ever write angst and want to know what you think:) stay hydrated guys

[i-need-entertainment]

Haikyuu!! Boys getting stuck places and having to ask you for help

Characters: Akaashi, Washio, Konoha, Kita, Suna, Ushijima, Yahaba, Iwaizumi, Futakuchi, Daishou, Numai and Iizuna

**Today has been pretty bad, but my sister, @foodacoochie gave me this idea and it made me giggle and inspired🥺🥺 thanks dude💙**

Warnings: Drugs in Washio’s but they’re for a surgery and being used responsibly and for pain, just the boys getting stuck and not being able to get out of places/things lol

Akaashi Keiji:

Akaashi had been over at your house, you guys were ‘chilling’ and what not, just wasting the Saturday away.

Your family had recently done some renovations on your house, and one of those renovations was changing all of the door nobs.

Your mom had called you downstairs to come talk to your grandmother on the phone.

You knew that you’d be on the phone for a while, so you told Akaashi to do whatever until you got back. You had been gone for 5 minutes when Akaashi needed to use the bathroom.

Luckily, you had one connected to your room!

He walked in the door, shutting it behind him before he froze at the small ‘click’ he heard.

Whipping around he immediately tried the door nob, only to groan when he realized it was locked.

From the outside.

You see, you had insisted on putting the door nob on yourself, but when you did so, you had managed to put the lock on the wrong side of the door.

And when you showed him what you did, he could distinctly remember you locking the *then open* door.

So as soon as he shut it, it locked.

He sighed as he shook his head. He had also distinctly remembered you telling him it would be at the very least 30 minutes before your grandmother would let you go, so he was going to be here awhile.

He did his business then sat on the edge of the bathtub, sitting and waiting until you came back upstairs.

When you came back up to your bedroom, you were surprised to not see Akaashi sitting on your bed where you had left him. 

You softly called his name before hearing him sigh and a defeated sounding ‘in here’ from your bathroom.

You raised an eyebrow before trying the door nob, slapping a hand over your mouth when you realized you had locked the door.

Unable to hold in your giggles, you unlocked the door, almost snorting at the deadpan look your boyfriend gave you.

Washio Tatsuki: 

**he may seem out of character, but it’s because he just got his wisdom teeth out, and as someone who has recently had that done, I know that for some people their personalities do a 180 switch**

Washio had just had his wisdom teeth removed.

At first his mom was going to take him home, but she had to go into work, so you offered to take care of him and take him home from his surgery.

When they walked Washio out into the waiting room, you hurriedly walked over to him, because as soon as the nurses let him go, he started to go down. Giggling when you struggled to hold him up.

Now, keep in mind, Washio is a big guy. He’s 6′2 with a broad build and lots of muscle, so he’s not exactly light.

Seeing as he had just had a major surgery, he was very doped up on drugs, and seeing Washio drugged up was nothing short of hilarious.

He was very clingy and very giggly, laughing at anything he found remotely amusing. A night and day difference from his usually calm and stoic demeanor. 

After you somehow managed to get him in the car, you began to drive him back to his house.

You got to his house and pulled into the drive way.

Before you could help him out of the car, you had to make sure he had a clear path to the couch where he would be sitting.

You had left the keys in the ignition and the air conditioning on because it was a hot day, and let’s face it, he wasn’t going anywhere.

Walking back out to the car you went to open his door, only for the handle not to budge.

Your brows furrowed as you tried to open it, looking to the inside of the door only to see all of the doors locked.

...uh oh..

You knocked on the glass, gaining the attention of a very drowsy looking Washio who just lazily waved when he saw you.

You, who had no way to actually get to him, started frantically pointing to the unlock button, him looking at you like you had grown 3 heads.

He finally tried the door handle, only to find it didn’t open.

You could faintly make out the words ‘i’m stuck’, when he realized he was ‘stuck in the car’.

You watched as he grew more and more frustrated with the door not opening.

You were pointing to the unlock button, him then pressing every button except for the unlock button.

Thankfully, he pressed the window button, rolling it down so you could reach your hand in and unlock the door, finally being able to help him inside.

Konoha Akinori:

Not everyone knows this about your boyfriend, but he is very competitive.

He just so happens to have a younger sister, who is also very competitive.

On this particular day you had been over at his house, his sister had been in the living room with you guys when a movie about dancing or whatever came on.

Konoha jokingly scoffed when the ballerina did the splits, stating that “I could do that” while you rolled your eyes, but his sister laughed, “Yeah okay boomer.” 

Glaring Konoha turned towards his sister, who simply narrowed her eyes back at him, “What was that?” She stood her ground, you nervously watching from the sidelines.

“Boomer, and I stand by it. You have the flexibility of an 80 year old man.” He narrowed his eyes at her before he laughed, standing up and walking to the middle of the floor.

Without any warning he, albeit slowly, fell into the splits, cringing when he got like 5 inches away, entire body shaking.

“s-see?” His sister was laughing as he stayed there, high pitched sounds of pain escaping him.

He, finding himself unable to stand or move for that matter, continued to suffer, heavily contemplating every decision he had ever made.

“y/N, hELp”

Kita Shinsuke:

Kita was very responsible, so you never had to worry about him getting himself into silly situations he couldn’t get himself out of.

But, everyone has their moments.

You and Kita were spending the day with his grandmother!

You guys had gone through old photo books, and made some desserts, now she wanted to teach you and Kita how to finger knit!

It seemed easy enough, and in no time you had gotten the hang of it and were on your way.

Kita however, was having a little more trouble.

He had gotten how to wrap it around his fingers and how to pull it but...

Somewhere along with way, he messed up.

And he messed up bad.

He didn’t really know how it happened, but before he was aware of it his fingers were caught in a tangled web of yarn, somehow he managed to knot both of his hands together, eye brows furrowed as he looked down to his hands.

You held in your laughter when you saw him, hopelessly caught in strings, as he tried to figure out how to get out of them.

It took 20 minutes and both you and granny to release him from his self-made prison.

He stuck to a different activity after that.

Suna Rintaro:

You had a big project coming up, but your boyfriend did not, and wanted to hang out with you.

You, who also wanted to hang out with him, let him as long as he let you work.

He promised he would cause no such distraction and be like a fly on the wall.

That doesn’t mean you believed him, but it was nice he made an effort.

Anyway, after just under an hour he got bored just scrolling through instagram.

So, he got up from his position on your bed and sauntered over to your vanity where he sat.

You didn’t pay him much mind, he was 16 so it’s not like you had to babysit him.

Er- you shouldn’t have to babysit him.

Fiddling around with the things on your desk, he stumbled across the small dish you kept your rings in.

There was one ring in particular that really stuck out to him.

It had a silver band and a dark blue gem, it was really pretty. He remembered you saying you didn’t wear it often, but he couldn’t remember why so he just shrugged and slipped it on his left middle finger.

He had been holding his hand up, looking at it, cause it really was a pretty ring.

All was fine, all was nice, until he tried to remove the ring. Then, some problems were presented.

The most prevalent of those problems being the ring was stuck, like really stuck.

And the second being he remembered why you didn’t wear the ring a lot, it was a size too small, for you.

So it was much too small for him.

Claiming defeat he called your name, defeatedly holding up his hand, and cringing as you called his name.

Ushijima Wakatoshi:

The team had finished practice and were fooling around in the locker room, making stupid bets and doing stupid things

Underestimating just how competitive (and curious) their captain was, Tendo and Yamagata bet 25 dollars Ushijima couldn’t get into a locker, Kawanishi and Shirabu each bet 35 dollars saying he could, and Reon bet 45 saying he would get stuck.

Being genuinely curious what would happen, and being heavily encouraged by his teammates, Semi found an empty locker, rigging it open before ushering the ace in.

It was quite small, and not a comfortable experience at all, but he was also never one to turn down a challenge.

So after some major manipulation and hitting his head, he got fully into the locker.

Tendo and Yamagata forked over their 25 dollars, imploring Reon to do the same before Reon shook his head.

“Let’s see if he can get out before I pay my money.”

All eyes were back on the ace, whose eye brows were furrowed in...concern.

He was stuck.

Bad.

Not wanting to face the wrath of the demon coach, they called the next best candidate to deal with this kind of situation, Ushijima’s girlfriend, you.

Your jaw dropped when Semi told you that your boyfriend was stuck in a locker because...hOw?!?!

Reon made a lot of money that day~

Yahaba Shigeru:

He had been over at your house and the two of you were taking a nap in your bed.

You had both since woken up, and were now on your phones.

You, still very sleepy, weren’t paying attention and before you or Yahaba could stop it your phone had slipped down the crack between your bed and the wall.

You groaned as you dragged your hand down your face, Yahaba, being the wonderful boyfriend he is, offered to get it for you.

He laid on his side as you used his phone to shine the flashlight down the side of your bed.

He stuck his arm down, but it was just barely too short.

Without realizing it he had slipped to the very small edge of the bed, inevitably slipping off only to be caught between the wall and your bed.

He groaned as he felt like he had been stuck to a wooden plank, unable to move any parts of his body.

You felt terrible, seeing as he had offered to get your phone for you and had proceeded to get himself stuck.

You grabbed his arm and shifted yourself to the opposite side of your bed, and after lots of tugging and sounds of pain from your boyfriend, you were able to roll him back onto the bed.

You rolled your eyes with a smile as he waved your phone in the air, a dorky smile on his lips as he had, despite being put in a very uncomfortable situation, managed to get your phone.

Iwaizumi Hajime:

Hanamaki had bought this bag of ‘tricks’ from the dollar store, for fun and what not.

One of the things that had been in there was a Chinese finger trap.

He brought a few of the things into his bag, hoping to trick at least one of the members.

But most of all he wanted to trick Iwaizumi, if nothing else he thought it would be funny.

So, when the Seijoh 3rd years met for lunch in the club room, and you, Iwiazumi’s girlfriend had of course joined them, he decided then was the perfect time to try.

“Yo, Iwaizumi! C’mere!” Iwaizumi, recognizing the teasing tone in Hanamaki’s voice, was instantly on guard, expecting something crazy to be suggested.

“What?” Hanamaki smiled, pulling the finger trap out of his bag, Iwaizumi looked at it, raising an eyebrow at the wing spiker.

“I heard no one has ever been able to put two fingers in this at the same time without getting trapped.” Iwaizumi rolled his eyes, grabbing the trap from Hanamaki and mindlessly stuck on finger in each end of the trap.

Just a few seconds prior, you had looked over Hanamaki’s shoulder, recognizing the trap, but before you could warn your dear boyfriend, he had already stuck his fingers in the trap, and pulled it, tight.

“Hajime...do you know what that is?” He shook his head, eyebrows furrowing when he tried to pull his fingers out, only to have the trap get tighter. 

“Hajime, it’s a Chinese finger trap!!” Iwaizumi’s eyes widened before he turned his head to glare at Hanamaki, curses ready on his tongue as Hanamaki and Matsukawa just about died of laughter, Kunimi snickering in the background.

It took 4 people and approximately 7 minutes to free him from the trap.

Futakuchi Kenji: **in tribute to my dear sister who locked herself out of her bathroom today🥰**

You and Futakuchi had gone to the beach with your family for the weekend, and the two of you were relaxing on the beach.

The beach had these lounge chairs, the ones that fold?

Well, you and Futakuchi were getting everything set up, he had just finished setting up the umbrella and you had laid out a large towel and set the bags down.

You guys both sat down and enjoyed the warm sun, and relaxed to the sound of the waves crashing on the shore.

About an hour later, Futakuchi decided he wanted a drink, and after asking what you wanted he left on his way.

Unknown to him, these chairs were really tricky.

They were good chairs and really comfortable, but you had to be careful how you sat in them.

After about 10 minutes he returned with the drinks, setting them down on the small cooler.

He went to sit on the lounge chair, expect that he more like flopped onto it, and before he could react the thing had snapped in two, you sitting up after hearing your boyfriend yelp.

You turned your head to see your boyfriend, squished in half by the lounge chair, with no signs of being freed.

After recruiting the help of your dad and a few kind passerby's, you were eventually able to free him of the lounge chair...

but that was after you took a picture and sent it to Aone.

Daishou Suguru:

You and Daishou had been on a date, nothing too fancy, just strolling around the city and what not.

You were just talking about random things when your eye spotted an empty park nearby.

You smirked as you nodded towards it, dragging your boyfriend towards it, you knew he couldn’t resist you if he tried.

You two were just fooling around, him chasing you around and you evading him like you both were 5 and it was ‘boys vs girls’ tag.

You had ran away from him when you spotted the set of toddler swings, y’know, those ones with the leg holes?

Yeah, those ones~

Anyway, you decided not to get in one because ✨danger✨

But your boyfriend took that as a challenge.

Without warning he grabbed the chains and jumped, sliding his legs through the very small holes and sinking into the seat.

You slapped his arm as you laughed, hand on your hip as you judgmentally looked at him.

“You’re gonna get stuck, there’s no way you’re getting out of that by yourself.”

He rolled his eyes, smirk still present on his face as he started to slowly swing back and forth.

You shook your head, shifting your weight to one leg as your arms crossed in front of your chest.

“Okay then, now try to get out.”

He rolled his eyes at your tone, grabbing the chains as he tried to pull himself up.

Only to bring the seat with him.

Your eyes widened as it set in, his smirk disappearing and his own eyes widening when he realized it as well.

He was stuck.

And at that moment, some of the Nekoma boys volleyball team members just happened to be passing by.

Kuroo’s laugh rang throughout the park as you desperately tried to free your boyfriend.

Numai Kazuma:

You and Numai were hanging out at your house, it was Halloween night and you guys were just gonna chill out and watch some movies and eat candy.

But before that, you guys were going to take your younger brother out trick or treating!

Your little brother decided he wanted to be a cowboy, and his outfit came with a pair of plastic handcuffs.

You were helping your little brother get his costume on while Numai messed around with the handcuffs.

He had latched one side onto the table leg, mindlessly scrolling through his phone as he fiddled with the cuffs.

He doesn’t know what came over him, but without thinking he latched the empty side of the handcuffs onto his wrist, tightly onto his wrist.

He didn’t think much of it, until it sunk in.

Had he really just done that??

You were fixing your brother’s costume when you heard your boyfriend call your name.

“Uh, Y/n?” You hummed, continuing to work on his costume.

“Where’s the key to the handcuffs?” 

“Oh, they got thrown away with the package, that’s why I set them..over...there..Kazuma.”

You turned around to see him nervously smiling while his hand was indeed handcuffed to the coffee table.

You blanched as you remembered the trash had already been taken out, so they key was gone.

Glaring at your boyfriend you sighed, shaking your head before you started to laugh, hiding your mouth as you continued to laugh at his misfortune.

Eventually you did help him.

It took 3 tries and 4 different tools, but with the help of your dad you were able to get his wrist free of the handcuffs.

Iizuna Tsukasa:

Iizuna has 2 sisters.

1 older sister, and 1 younger sister (ayyyee middle children let’s go-)

You just so happened to be very good friends with your boyfriends sisters, and you guys often had a lot of fun together~

One of the wats you guys had fun was messing with your boyfriend.

Todays scheme: Dress Tsukasa up as a girl. Simply because you could.

And seeing as he lost a bet to you the other day, he couldn’t refuse it.

Luckily, his older sister had a dress she accidentally ordered in a size too big, it would still be snug on him, but it would do the job.

His older sister did his make up, you worked on his outfit as the youngest fixed his hair, him sitting through the whole ordeal trying not to take away too much trauma from it.

Leaving the room so he could change, you all patiently waited as he got changed into the dress, laughing at the pained noises he made as he slipped on the dress and shoes.

You couldn’t help the laugh that burst out of you as your boyfriend stumbled out of the room, heels way too small and dress uncomfortably tight.

You all snapped the pictures you needed and he sacrificed what was left of his dignity.

Waving off you three, he hobbled back into his room, kicking off the heels and attempting to pull the dress over his head.

I say attempting because as he tried to move his arms to grab it he made a very disturbing realization.

He couldn’t grab the hem of the dress...

he couldn’t even reach behind him.

He was stuck.

And the only ‘help’ he had was his sisters and his girlfriend. 

[littlemisslipbalm]

I live in the neighbourhood  Part 2

Part 2 is hereeeeee YAY! There will be a part 3 eventually :) I hope you enjoy and as well lmk you loved it with reblogs and messages, they truly make my day and y’know do it for other writers too, trust me we all love it. this fucking gif still gets me,,, but anyway there is so much i want to talk about in this part its killing me so plssss message me about it aghghghggh idk what else to say 

um this part is filled with: yn not knowing cars, harry being a dork, almost kisses and kisses  , but daddy i love him, the crown, gardening, and so much more mwah

Read Part 1

Word Count: 10.8k | Warnings: minor anxiety attack, swearing?, drinking, think that’s it (some more taylor swift)

-

“You want me to what?!” She feels herself all but scream.

He sighs in exasperation and ruffles his freshly cut curls. He can’t help the smile that grows shortly after his sigh. Y/N’s reaction on the other end of the line has sent him into a fit of giggles that he has to suppress quickly when she sends a warning ‘Harry’.

“It’s simple, love,” He twists to lay on his stomach. “I left you the spare to my place. Just go in, find my car keys and then drive to the airport and snap me up!”

She sighs now over the phone as she contemplates whether she could truly go into Harry’s home and then drive his surely expensive car to the airport and get him. It was something a friend would do for another friend, especially one who was a neighbour and especially a neighbour who had nothing better to do on a Friday night.

“Alright,” she says finally, “I’ll be there on Friday, text me the flight number.”

She grins when she hears a little “woo” from Harry. Even if he’s smiling half a world away it still made her happy to know it was because of her.

They had mostly texted each other randomly over the past three weeks while Harry had been away in California. She told him about her job, which he insisted was endlessly interesting and she countered that he found it interesting because it was new to him and eventually the grandeur would wear off. She loved her job, of course, it was for a public relations company that dealt with various London based companies and she was on multiple accounts with various clients ranging from tech companies to music artists. But she didn’t think it was as interesting as Harry made it out to be.

Harry told her about the filming of the movie and about everyone on set. He told her how he bought everyone on the crew his new ‘Treat People With Kindness’ sweatshirts and joked how he’d have to get her one as well to match her other one. She noted that one of Harry’s love languages was very obviously gift giving. He was so generous and she really admired that from him considering how successful he was. Her father was an accountant so she knew how rich people could be about their money sometimes, hiding it away in different entities just so their money can make money instead of spending it on things that matter.

He said everyone was nice and amazing overall, he gushed about people’s performances, but he’d always end with how much he missed London. He liked LA, he would assure her, but then he’d say how it wasn’t home-y at all. London was home to him. She would smile whenever he said that because she felt that way too, even though she wasn’t originally from the city, it just felt like home to her.

One night, he even confided in her his loneliness while on set. He wondered that maybe it was because he had no real roots in LA, nothing to go home to - no home to go to. She tried to reassure him that he wasn’t alone and all he had to do was ask and any person from the movie would love to spend time with him. He nodded along to her words, but they both knew he was being overly kind when he said everyone was nice. Not everyone in Hollywood was nice and certainly not everyone in Hollywood had substance. He searched for a month and seldom found time where he was truly relaxed with others and enjoying himself. More than ever he was excited to return home to London to say the least.

-

“Harry!”

She jumped out of her seat and into his arms, her cheek brushing his as she leaned in. He stood just on the sidewalk by his car that she had gingerly driven into the city and to the airport at 9pm on a Friday night in November.

The car was a dark blue vintage convertible, Mercedes-Benz, she was pretty sure but she really was completely clueless when it came to cars. Harry had taken her call right before his flight took off and walked her through finding the car. He had two garages and one garage had two cars and the other had only one. She had gone on her own and found the first garage with the two cars and seen a lime green tiny little vintage convertible and a cherry red vintage non-convertible and became distraught that there was no navy car. When Harry picked up the phone he had been greeted with some yelling about how he must be colorblind if he thought one of these cars was navy and he had laughed heartily before explaining that there was another garage. She had huffed and traipsed through his house until she came upon the other garage. When she saw the blue car she was equally annoyed and elated. “Thank fucking god,” she muttered over the line and Harry had laughed, but found himself cut off when the line went dead.

He smiled and groaned slightly at her tight embrace. He was happy to be back in England after a month away and he was happy to have her in his arms even if he didn’t know whether he should admit that.

“It’s good to see you,” he musters and he feels her smile into his neck. The only fabric between her face and him being his thin waffle knit long sleeve. He could feel her breath softly against him. He pets at the back of her hair, “Thank you for coming to get me, I know it might have been a bit much to ask.”

“Don’t mention it,” she pulls back from his embrace and smiles happily up at him, “What are friends for?”

She brushes her hands at his shoulders and then moves to start putting his luggage in his car. He had two suitcases and a backpack with him, but he had told her he had more stuff sent over that would just be sent simply to his home. She had texted back a shocked face emoji when he said that, unaware that he traveled with that much stuff.

“Right,” Harry affirms, twitching into action at the word ‘friends’. He felt like they had gotten so close over the last month even though they had only talked over the phone for that time. Seeing her in person now felt like she had been his friend for years.

Once in the car, Y/N settles back in the driver’s seat, not wanting Harry to have to drive after the horrible flight from California to London. A direct flight was just about as bad as layovers in Ohio or Utah. She wasn’t sure what it was like in First Class, but she still knew it was rough being on an aircraft for 10 plus hours.

Harry closes his eyes beside her after a moment. He had watched her settle in the car with his head against the headrest, his eyes drooping as they regarded her movements. She was so sweet to him and he nodded when she asked if he wanted his seat warmer on.

“You’re too good to me, pet,” he whispers, head lulling once again.

She glances at him swiftly as she pulls out of the loading area. He smiled contentedly before drifting off to sleep.  

She turned the music low and silently drove them back to Sherwood Avenue. When she pulled the car into Harry’s garage, she sat there for a few moments as Harry softly breathed beside her. She had hoped he’d wake up upon their arrival so she wouldn’t have to wake him, but alas he was sound asleep.

She watched him, he was so quiet in this moment. So unlike how he normally was with her, talking about everything and nothing almost constantly. She liked that side of him. But she had to admit something about him this peaceful was just as entrancing.

The flutter of his eyelids brought her out of her reverie and she was grateful for the dim lighting in the garage because when Harry’s eyes focused on her she was blushing.

He quirks a brow and his smirk begins to settle back on his lips. “Home,” he raspily mumbles and begins to shift in his sea.

She nods and smiles softly, shaking off all the thoughts had been going through her mind.

“We’re back,” she affirms. “Let’s get you inside, sleepy boy.”

Harry shakes off his slumber with a rub at his right eye and a run through his hair. He climbs out of the car. She throws him the keys at his silent instruction of an extended hand and an eyebrow raise. She knows she read him correctly when he smiles sweetly and travels to the boot of his car to begin unloading the suitcases he was in charge of.

She follows him and rounds the end of the car, preparing to take some of his luggage.  

“You don’t need to carry anything, it’s fine, dove.”

His voice is extra gravelly still and she would’ve complained about the new nicknames if he hadn’t sounded so hot. She didn’t think she had any feelings for Harry other than friendship, she was almost sure of it. Sure he was attractive, but ever since she actually got to know him she hadn’t thought of him in a way that could be considered more than friendship. He made her blush, but he was just inherently smooth. It wasn’t because he was specifically flirting with her.

Except right now, the whole reuniting of it all paired with his voice and his sleepy eyes that she imagined likely looked similar to his bedroom eyes. She was having a hard time seeing that line of friendship.

“No!” She protested, tugging the backpack he was attempting to carry along with the two suitcases from him.

He sighs and sets down one of the cases, “Y/N, you’ve already been too good to me by picking me up. I’m not making you do any more physical labor with any of my heavy shit.”

“It can’t be that heavy,” she pulls the backpack on and she resists the slight step back her body wants to take from the weight of the backpack.

“Give it back,” he says, sounding concerned for her.

“It’s fine, I’ve got it, Har,” she smiles and gives a little twirl in his large garage, the backpack making her look a bit smaller.

He twists his lips trying to ward off a smile. He wasn’t annoyed, moreso he was delighted by her antics. He wanted to scoop her up in his arms and kiss her.

“Oh you got it? Do you?” His amusement betrays his British accent, making him sound like he did at 19. He places the other case on the ground and walks quickly to stand right in front of her.

She squeals as he gets so close, his nose just about brushes hers. He’s smiling sinisterly as he takes hold of the straps of the backpack and tries to tug them off of her. Yet, she holds on tight to the front of them, laughing happily at their silliness and causing her nose to brush against his.

Their eyes are strong on each other, watching their every move. And they settle a little, laughter dying out, breathing evening out. Her hands are still strong on the front straps of the backpack, while Harry’s are strong on the top of her shoulders, wrapped around the backpack’s straps as well.

He licks his lips, feeling especially interested in seeing how hers finally taste. Right as he is about to lean in, brush his lips against hers, she pulls from his grasp, swinging away from him and dashing to the door that leads to the rest of his house.

“C’mon, it’s freezing out here!” She twists the nob of the door and beckons him.

He huffs, shaking himself out of the daydream he had almost made reality. He wanted to kick himself, he felt like a kid. He needed to get a grip.

“I’m right behind ya’,” he called, nodding his head to tell her to go before him.

Her smile sears in his mind like the shine on a brand new coin as she flicks on the light in the entryway. The light comes flooding in the doorway and around her. For that quick moment only she is illuminated in his eyes. She shines for him and he wonders if it’s possible to drown in light.

-

Next Thursday

“Crown came out on Sunday!” Harry said as he opened the door, knowing it was Y/N who had knocked.

“Had no clue from the ominous text you sent, ‘come over, i promise popcorn *crown emoji*’,” she laughs and enters the house and holds out a bag of chocolate chips.

“I already have it queued up and popcorn’s popping!” He says happily and takes the chocolate chips to put in little dishes.

They walk into the kitchen and she’s still in awe of his home. It was clean and sleek but with all the hominess still easily found if you looked a little closer. Tea cloths hanging over the ovens’ handles that had interlocking G’s - a facet of Gucci she could only assume. Various paintings of different scenes, one a Japanese store front and another a Blue Jay perched easily on a thin branch.

There were unique painted tiles that he must use for hot plates and a single fancy floral mug tucked next to an espresso machine and just little things that she was keen on exploring at some point, but Harry caught her attention.

“Adult slushie?” He inquires with an arched brow.

“Does the slushie perform exotic dances?” She asks jokingly.

Harry rolls his eyes and chuckles, “Sometimes those that drink it do.”  

She reddens at his implication. He then looks at her seriously and she regards him with utter delight. Her eyes twinkle as he moves about his home with ease.

“If you make it,” she confirms, in awe that he would make cocktails on this random occasion.

He smiles at her and begins his final tasks, checking to make sure the popcorn doesn’t burn and grabs the ingredients he needs to make the drink he was thinking of.

She stands beside him, eyes constantly wondering between his moving physique and his home.

“Did you know I know Emma?” Harry asks, looking up from the blender. She notices how his neck muscles twist and strain as he gazes at her. He was wearing a white t-shirt with ‘But Daddy I Love Him’ in a red vintage font and a black cardigan with different colorful objects on it, mostly flowers, it said ‘Spaceboy’ on the back and she had smiled when she saw it when he led her to the kitchen.

She hums, her gaze focused on him. His green eyes flicker across her face and down her body, simply taking into account her outfit. Pink sweatpants and a long sleeve with a drawing of a cute little clown holding two guns up at the air. While it might have sounded like a weird thing to have printed on a shirt, he found it fun, he was always appreciative of different clothing. Of course she had a gun-slinging clown shirt that she managed to make sweet, he thought.

“Fascinating connections of the rich and famous,” she muses.

“Yeah, well, Susan - Harry Lambert,” he corrects his friend’s nickname, catching himself, “he styles us both so we’ve met a few times. She’s really lovely.”

“That’s pretty epic,” she says and wanders closer to Harry, wanting a better look at his progress on the drinks.

Her hand rests on the countertop next to the two glasses he intends to place the ‘slushies’ into. The liquor he used just said “Blue” and she wondered what blue would taste like as he pours the glasses now. The consistency of them being relatively slushie like, she was impressed.

Her smile gives it away and Harry eyes her, “What’re you smiling at?”

“I’m admiring your bartending skills,” she meets his eyes and she realizes how rather close they’ve gotten as he leans slightly over her and the countertop.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” he says playfully, “I take my mixology very seriously so I don’t want any praise until you’ve actually tried it.”

He holds the glass up to her and instead of grabbing it from him, she simply guides it to her lips. Her hand lightly grasping at the soft fabric of his cardigan. She parts her lips and takes a small sip, maintaining eye contact with Harry.

When the icey liquid passes her lips, her eyes flutter shut at the sweetness of the drink, it was like candy but with a light kick at the end from the alcohol. She loved it and when she opened her eyes again she took the drink from Harry’s strong hand and took another sip.

“This is dangerously good,” she finally says and Harry grins.

“Fantastic! Now we’re ready to start the show,” and he leads them into his living room that is just as big or bigger than his kitchen. A large screen television and a turquoise velvet couch are the main attractions of the room, at least what Y/N is focused on. There’s more art and posters up in this room, a lovely round coffee table and gorgeous vintage rug.

“Wait, Susan?” she circles back to Harry’s earlier comment about Emma Corin and their shared stylist.

Harry smiles and sits next to her comfortably, placing the drinks on coasters and the other various items on the coffee table.

“It’s my nickname for Harry since we’re both...Harry. Just felt silly calling each other Harry and Sue and Susan, they just fit so well.”

She nods, “I see.” But she didn’t really get it. She’d never had a friend where they only called each other a different name from their own, maybe a nickname that she would occasionally call them, but never one so ingrained that she would call them it when referring to them to someone else who surely didn’t know them and wouldn’t know them by the different name. Not that she really knew who Harry Lambert was in the first place, but it still made more sense than Susan. She shook it off just as another quirk of Harry being who he was.

They settle in for the show and they love talking through it, which Y/N was happy that Harry liked to talk during shows as well. She hated when people shushed her during movies and shows when she had something to say. They commented on the fashion and how wild some of the stuff was. Thankfully, as well, even Harry thought some of the things the royals did were absurdly lavish.

“He is so hot,” she finally says when Prince Charles is on the screen for another time and she can’t keep it in anymore, “How could they cast him for Prince Charles, they are far too kind.”

“Josh?” Harry questions, glancing over at his friend curled up on the couch next to him. She had her feet tucked beneath her legs and had her body on its side while staring at the television.

“Don’t tell me you know him too?” She says, taking her focus off the TV to look at Harry, a chocolate chip landing in her mouth once she finished talking.

Their blue slushies had been finished and the popcorn was half eaten. She was pretty sure they were on the second episode already.

He laughs, “No, but Emma says he’s very nice...He is rather attractive.”

That makes her smile, the both of them finding an actor attractive. It felt like Harry was like one of her friends from home, chatting about boys, something she really didn’t do anymore.

“Maybe you can introduce us,” she laughs, her head nudging at Harry’s shoulder beside her.

She doesn’t notice Harry’s lack of mirth at her joke as she turns her attention back to the screen, re-immersing herself in the plot. He twitches slightly uncomfortably at the thought of him introducing her to someone she might be interested in romantically.

“Why not,” he says half-heartedly and he hopes she doesn’t notice his tone.

-

The next day was Friday and she had the day off as per usual.

After three episodes of the Crown, she and Harry had decided to call it a night. He had offered that she could spend the night so she didn’t have to walk home after she had refused to let him walk her across the street. However, she declined, saying she didn’t like leaving Rori alone at night, especially since he was still getting used to the new house. Harry had understood but she could tell he was saddened by her leaving.

She had decided to plant some flowers in her front yard, hoping to liven it up. She had bought some plants at the local flower shop, pansies and aster thinking that purple and gold would look lovely together. She planned to set to work with little experience, but plenty of intention. Rori was outside with her for moral support, prancing through the growing grass and nibbling at the shrubs, more like a bunny than a dog.

Her mother had gifted her gardening tools a long time ago and their entire family had laughed because they knew Y/N didn’t have a green anything, most definitely not a green thumb. Today she had grabbed them and the plants and had placed it all in front of her planters. Then she sat there and went on her phone, scrolling through it mindlessly. She had no idea what she was doing or where to start so getting distracted was easy.

“Need any help?”

Her head turns and she slides away her phone with a sigh, knowing exactly who had just kindly asked to lend a hand.

Harry squints down at her and in this moment she is especially aware of just how tall Harry actually is. Normally she notices his height and thinks ‘yeah he’s tall’, but right now he towers over her. His hair is catching the surprising fall sun and causing glints of gold to radiate off him. His eyes are especially light right now and she feels oddly unnerved by their color, the hazy mint of some kind of predator. He is such a presence and she thought she had finally gotten used to him being in her life, but in this moment she is taken aback. She shakes her head after a moment too long of staring up at him.

“Hi,” she breathes and stands up from her sitting position. “I was just starting to do some planting, and I don’t know if you can tell but I have no gardening skills whatsoever.”

She gestures to her set up and Harry turns his gaze from her to the plants and smiles. He had been coming back from his morning jog and instead of entering his gate, he walked through hers. He looks at everything and reaches down to pet Rori when he comes running up happily to his friend.

“Well, it looks like a good start. Aster is an interesting thing to plant…” He kneels down to start digging up the soil in the planters.

She kneels beside him and watches him attentively. “I wanted chrysanthemums, they’re one of my favorites. But they were out, so it will have to do.”

“It will do perfectly,” he looks up at her from his work, “you wouldn’t have picked it if it wasn’t amazing.”

She makes a small smile at his statement, but doesn’t respond. Instead, she takes up mimicking his actions with the soil.

“Do you garden a lot?” Her voice is soft, not wanting to disturb the quiet that had fallen over them.  

“Not much anymore, I don’t really have the time, but I used to with my mum.”

She hums and scratches behind Rori’s ears absentmindedly when he looks curiously at what they’re doing.

They work silently, only talking intermittently. At one point, she grabs them glasses of water from the kitchen, mostly for Harry because he’s actually working up a sweat planting her garden. Harry hums random songs that are on his mind and she wishes he would sing for her, but she would never dare ask him to.

They talk about the Crown and how much they loved all the clothes in it last night and where the plot is going since they know the true history it’s based on. Harry offers British insight into the Royals that she had never thought about and they even venture into British politics which she admits she never really thought about since usually the US politics is far more in the spotlight.

He talks about his views on politics and she gives hers, even stranger though they even venture further into usually rocky territory and discuss religion. She is very interested by what Harry has to say about religion, his answers are both completely expected and unexpected. Something she’s noticed about Harry with her is that she always seems to be surprised by what he says, but it still manages to make complete sense after a moment.

“I’m going back to LA tomorrow,” Harry muses as he regards one of the pansies, like he’s almost staring it straight in the eye.

“Oh?” She turns to face him.

She stops her aimless moving about of the dirt. She had mostly been playing with the dirt while he did the majority of the work. She just didn’t enjoy it. Harry had definitely made the activity palatable. She’d have to tell him she would have likely given up an hour ago had he not been there.

He sighs and sets the pansy into the hole in the soil he had made for it. “More shooting for the movie, I’ll be gone for another month.”

“Wow…I think saying goodbye to you is just going to get harder and harder.” She looks away, her arms crossing over herself instinctively when the wind blows just a little too hard.

Harry looks at her now and sees her curling in on herself and he wants to hug her, but they weren’t like that. Instead he places a hand on her shoulder, rubbing it slowly up and down trying to offer her some warmth.

“I think we’ve made enough progress today. It’s starting to get cold, hm?”

She looks at him now and nods, her hand moving up and capturing his in hers. Like they had when Harry walked her home after his game, their fingers twist and turn around each other. Their eyes shying between each other’s faces and interlocked hands.

She springs to her feet after a couple quiet minutes of dodging eye contact and simply enjoying the feel of one another against each other.

“I should thank you for all this help,” she starts and Harry gets up to stand, beginning to say there is no need for a thank you for what he did.

“No, no.” She stops him, “I wouldn’t have gotten anywhere without your help and I took up all of your day, practically.” She takes hold of his hands now to examine the dirt that has managed to cover them since he was convinced that she should wear the gloves her mother gave her. “You should come over tonight and I’ll cook you dinner. I’m a much better cook than I am a gardener.”

Harry looks at her quietly, his eyes blinking slowly. Like he’s basking in the small movements she’s making on his hands. She traces the little cross that straddles his thumb and pointer finger on his left hand.

“I’ll make sure to bring dessert then.” He smiles and tilts his head to the right and a little forward towards her. She gazes up at him softly. “I might even bring something extra special.”

She raises her brows, “A special treat from Harry Styles himself. I’ll be anxiously awaiting your return then.” She taunts him only slightly because what he had said just about brought her to her knees. The way his smile had shifted to a smirk and how his voice has grown quiet and low, it just felt very intimate.

Harry returns at half past six, as requested by Y/N. He was freshly showered and cologned and she had never found a man more attractive than in that moment. Before he came over he told her he was dressing nice and she had no idea what that might mean with him. But when she saw him, she understood.

What it meant was a crisp blue big collared Gucci dress shirt unbuttoned almost half way down his chest revealing his ever present cross and fitted high waisted brown trousers. His fresh haircut meant for the 50’s slicked back with pieces beginning to fall about just perfectly. No belt, no cufflinks, and no suit coat. Instead of a coat he had on a jacket that was similar to her giraffe jacket he had borrowed all those days ago. His own was comfortably settled over his shoulders and it was obviously made of fabrics far nicer than hers and wasn’t fraying in any place.

He posed in her doorway and even gave a twirl at which time Y/N laughed happily. It looked amazing on him, she had no idea how her jacket had been the thing that started this all.

“How do you like it?” He asks seriously. “Does it look alright?”

“It looks perfect on you, Har. Is that the extra special surprise?”

He smirks smugly at her compliment and comes into the home, greeting Rori quickly before following her back into the kitchen where she was still cooking.

“Oh no,” he says and places a bag filled with a bottle of red wine and a pint of her favorite ice cream on the counter (and the surprise tucked neatly at the bottom of the bag).

She looks at him quizzically as he begins to take the items out of the bag.

“There’s one last thing in there,” he points to the bag casually, while putting the ice cream in her freezer. “Do ya’ mind grabbing it for me, dove?”

She rolls her eyes and reaches into the bag. Her hand retrieves a magazine from the bottom of the bag and when she flips it over to the front side, a gasp escaped her lips.

“Harry! Oh my god!” Her hand goes to her mouth as she takes in the cover.

A US Vogue magazine with Harry on the front of it. He’s blowing up a balloon in the photo and he looks beautiful. His skin is flawless and his hair is luscious and flowing a little longer than he kept it now due to the movie.

“I’m a Vogue cover model now, eh?” He asks, looking on apprehensively as she begins to gingerly flick her fingers through the magazine’s pages.

“This is the surprise?” She looks up from the page with him and Gemma sitting side by side.

Harry nods and watches her absentmindedly trace his face on the page.

“Do you like the pictures?” His voice is soft and almost timid?

“Of course!” She exclaims, not wanting to let any doubts pass through Harry’s mind. “Is this what you were doing up in Scotland a couple months ago, right before we became friends and you said you wanted to surprise me with something top secret?”

He nods again, his grin creeping onto his face as she stares at the photo of him in the cover photo’s outfit where you can see the entire dress.

“I want that dress...did they let you keep it?” She continues flicking through the pages lightly and glancing at Harry across from her. The dinner forgotten for the moment.

“It’s Gucci, I didn’t keep it, but I’m sure I could call Susan and get you one ordered,” he replies easily, leaning over the counter to watch the magazine.

She scoffs, “I can’t afford a Gucci gown for no reason...AND before you try to say you’ll pay for it, I would never accept such a gift and I am so for real about that, Harry.”

He waves his hands out in front of him as if to say he’d never suggest such a thing even though they both knew he’d buy it for her in a heartbeat.

“These pants…” she mutters, eyes now fixed on the trousers Harry is wearing in a specific photo in the magazine. They’re tan with a darker stripe on the side of them but the most intriguing part is all of the different drawings on it that seemed to be all related to Harry.

“They’re fab, no?” He quirks a brow at her, his face still holding an apprehensive grin like she’ll take back her praise at a moment’s notice.

“So fab,” she echoes. “Are they bespoke?” Her question has a hint of sarcasm dripping behind it, knowing by now Harry was notorious for custom-made items.

“What gave it away?” He wiggles his brows.

Her eyes flicker to meet his and she sees they’ve ended up face to face once again. It seemed to happen too often with one another. She settles the magazine down and stands up straight. She couldn’t allow herself to indulge in the proximity of his inviting lips. The proximity of his warmth that had seemed to seep into all facets of her life in the last two months or so. It was wonderful and warm, but it wasn’t hers. She shared him with so many other people and she couldn’t get carried away with him because tomorrow he’d be gone.

“That really is amazing Harry. I’m very proud of you, but if you don’t want a burnt dinner, I need to start paying attention to what I’m cooking.” She turns away from him and she quickly takes a palm to swipe beneath her eye, collecting the stray liquid that somehow fell from her eye. Funny thing, she wasn’t cooking with onions.

Harry doesn’t notice the movement, simply sighing that she turned from him yet again. He ran a hand through his hair, further tousling the once coiffed hairdo and then twisted his ‘H’ ring around his finger before settling on a bar stool to flip through the magazine and watch her cook.

“When does the magazine come out?” She calls as she stirs the sauce that she’d be pouring over their spaghetti squash once it was finished baking.

“Next week, They’ll release the story online and then I’ll be hitting shelves,” he muses, reading a different story in the magazine, not particularly interesting in himself.

“I’m sure you’ll be flying off those shelves the second you’re placed down.” She laughs at her joke and Harry rubs his lips with his thumb and forefinger thoughtfully.

“You think so?” His eyes sparkle with mischief at his question.

She turns her head, an open-mouthed grin already on her face, a slight scoff falling from her mouth, “Oh c’mon, you know so. I think you’re one of the most loved men in the world and people fall more and more in love each year.” She almost added ‘and I don’t blame them’ but she refrained thankfully.

“Most loved...I like that. Such an interesting way to put it.”

“I mean, you’ve been famous for what? Ten years now? That’s a long time and I don’t think you’re going anywhere...At this point it’s not about how big your celebrity star is, it’s your level of belovedness and I think that level is quite high.” She comments on something about Harry they never talked too much of. Sometimes they talked about him knowing famous people and about the work he had to fly off to do, but never the specific fame of it all. She didn’t really think Harry liked to talk about.

She didn’t have much of an opinion on it, it didn’t matter to her whether Harry was a famous multi-talented big-C celebrity or he was a nobody with a random job. As long as he was still her neighbour she would never complain. He made her so happy and maybe if he hadn’t been famous he wouldn’t be the way that he was so she would never say it was a nuisance. It just came along with him.

“Well...like I said, it’s a lovely way to put it. So, thank you for that.”

He stands up now, forgetting the magazine and rounding the counter to find a cork for the wine seeing that Y/N was doing the final touches on their food.

They eat dinner across from each other at her modest-sized dinner table. Harry slips his giraffe coat off and rolls up his sleeves to allow him to “really dig in” to the dinner she made for them. Maybe some footsy occurs beneath the table but neither of them would ever admit to it so did it really happen? Just feet moving randomly and happening to rub against one another every so often.

After dinner and a bottle of wine, the two of them join Rori in the living room where he’s curled up on one of the throw pillows. Y/N runs back to the kitchen to scoop them ice cream and whips of two Moscow Mules to go with it because she had brought up how when she usually goes home for the holidays, her and her sister always have a competition of who can make the most unique but best tasting Moscow Mule. Harry had said how he’d love to be there one day for that and she had blushed and tucked a piece of hair behind her ear from the comment before taking a large gulp of wine. Since that wasn’t possible right now, her tipsy mind had decided that the next best thing was to make some basic ones right now.

“I bring a Mule and an ice cream,” she says airly, playing like a royal herself, as she holds them out to Harry.

He laughs softly and accepts them graciously, doing a slight head bow to her. Before he can say anything she’s a flash of plaid and red as she runs back for her own ice cream and drink. He had been complimenting her plaid pants with golden bees on them all night and asked her where she got them, teasing that they must be Gucci, but all she would say is that he couldn’t have them to go make a copy of this time.

She re-enters the room and dims the lights with her hip. Then she settles beside him, clinking her glass with him and they both take their first sip.

“Hmmm,” Harry hums after he tastes the cocktail, “I like it.”

“Moscow Mules are a favorite with my family,” she muses, flicking through the television to get them set up to watch the Crown again.

“Maybe I should meet them and thank them for bestowing such a good favorite unto their daughter?” Harry asks and she laughs and rolls her eyes. Questions of meeting family when they were just friends didn’t need a response. Right?

They spoon ice cream into their mouths as the show begins and they murmur comments to one another throughout the episode. They idly pet Rori sometimes as he moves randomly around the room trying to find the place he likes most. Once Harry’s done with his ice cream, Rori thinks his chest is the best place to be and Y/N can’t help but snap a quick photo of it.

“Not quite as handsome without the dress, but it’ll do,” she sighs and snuggles into Harry’s side. Her hand reaches up to scratch at Rori which then leaves her arm wrapped around Harry when her dog inexplicably leaves to go to bed a few minutes later.

He was an awfully good wingman Harry would easily admit at a much later date.

They stay cuddled casually with one another for the entirety of two more episodes and they realize they’re more than halfway done with the season. A yawn from Y/N cues to Harry that he should suggest they pause for the night. She agrees easily, her head nuzzling into his strong shoulder for a little while.

Harry takes the remote from her and turns off the television before flicking on the side table turquoise glass-blown lamp.

“Can I put some music on?” He whispers in her ear, already knowing the answer, but waiting for her to nod her head. She obliges and he slowly slides her onto the couch beneath them. Then he begins padding around her house to find her speaker.

“Arrow Through Me” by Harry’s all time role model Paul McCartney’s second band Wings begins to play through the speakers. What a fucking moutful.

She perks up at the music and sits up straighter on her couch. Her smile grows as Harry shakes his hips a little and moves to the beat of the song as he makes his way back over to the couch. He opens his mouth to say something, but instead of words ringing loud through the room, it's the sound of a phone buzzing from somewhere between a few cushions on the couch

“Oh shit...shit, shit, shit,” she awakens herself out of her daze with her profanity. Attempting to find her phone rather haphazardly, she stumbles around the couch.

It’s Harry who fishes the phone from beneath a throw pillow and hands it over to his friend. She smiles thankfully, her hair a little messy and her eyes slightly crazed, before picking up the phone without even looking at the caller ID.

“Hello?...Cate?...Oh, hey….No, I didn’t look at the ID...figured it was you or someone in the states...no one in the UK would call me right now...It’s almost midnight here, you asshole,” she pauses and points at the phone and mouths “it’s Cate” like Harry hadn’t been sitting there listening to the entire conversation.

“I’m just hanging out watching the new season of Crown...with Harry...yeah, that Harry,” she flits her eyes to Harry for a second and rolls her eyes sarcastically.

“Talk to him? I mean.. I can put you on speaker, I guess?” She looks at Harry and he nods his head eagerly.

She rejoins him on the couch and places the phone on the coffee table, tapping on the speaker.

“You’re on speaker now.”

“Hi Harry!” Cate crackles over the line, happily, likely just awoken from her slumber in California.

“Hullo, love,” he says sweetly, his voice beginning to slow even more as the night wears on.

Y/N rolls her eyes at both of her friends, knowing Harry was laying it on thick and that Cate would squeal over this exchange for the next three weeks.

“What are you two lovebirds up to?” She inquires sweetly and Harry makes an arched brow at Y/N and she only supplies a shaken head and a shoulder shrug.  

“Cate….” Y/N drags out, annoyed with her for both saying that and for calling just as she was planning on going to sleep.

“Sorry! Friends, I know. Even though staying in on a Friday night with just the two of you doesn’t sound very friendly…” She begins to ramble on,  but Y/N offers another warning ‘Cate’. Cate takes the hint and finishes her teasing. “Anyways…”

Harry and Y/N are completely red, sitting next to one another but grateful for the minimal lighting.

“I was just calling to check-in. Do you know what you’re doing for the holidays yet? I know you don’t do thanksgiving anymore - which was yesterday by the way - since you’re all British now.”

Y/N scoffs at her close friend and Harry nudges her side about the British thing.

“I don’t know yet, I have to see my work schedule and all that. I don’t know if I want to fly across the world this year though…” She trails off, kind of quieting in hope that Cate will miss it.

Harry regards the conversation, casually interested, yet intrigued since he had been meaning to ask the exact same question.

Cate hums, obviously unhappy with the response. “Alright. And you Harry? Do you usually go home to your family for the holidays?”

“You don’t need to answer that,” Y/N interjects.

Harry places a hand on her thigh to let her know that it’s completely fine. An easy smile on his lips as he speaks to the phone. Y/N places her hand over Harry’s on instinct.

“Usually, yeah. This year we were thinking of all going out to my place in Italy so it’s kind of up in the air right now. When I get back from LA, I’ll probably finalize it.”

“LA you said? We should get together while you’re here.”

“Cate. He’s there on business.”

“I know...but still. It’s fine,” Cate laughs lightly, knowing she was pushing her luck with this conversation as it was. “Anyways, darling, I just wanted to tell you I miss you and that Harry’s not allowed to replace me as your best friend. Y’hear that Mr. Styles?”

“I sure do, love.”

Everyone laughs whole heartedly and Harry and Y/N are still playing with each other’s fingers on top of her thigh.

Y/N thinks that’s enough of the conference call with Harry and Cate so she snatches the phone with her free hand and raises it back to her ear.

“Alright, Cate, I think we’re going to head to bed...not...not like that...I hate you...Now I definitely don’t want to come home...I’m kidding, I’ll think about it...Love you, too….Yeah I’ll tell him...Have a nice day…”

She throws the phone on the coffee table again and falls back on the couch. Her head rolls to rest on Harry’s broad shoulder and she sighs softly. Harry moves his head to rest over hers, chuckling softly. His sweet breaths of joy are why he then receives a soft slap on his far arm, only making him laugh more.

“Shut up,” her muffled voice comes out from against his blue shirt that is far more crumpled than it was when he came over hours ago.

“She’s so funny,” he laughs again, nosing his face into her hair.

“She tries to get away with way too much,” she sighs and Harry just pats at her side, smiling and not caring at all about the things Cate was hinting at because he wanted what she was alluding to to be reality.

“Y’know I have a question because she said I can’t be your best friend and that’s fine with me, but I wanted to tell you something, love.”

Her head raises to look Harry in the eye, slightly confused by his preface.

“You’re my best friend,” he says earnestly in the dark living room, “Is that allowed?”

His accent was thick with anticipation, the night wearing on his vocal cords. It was so quiet in the room, Harry was sure she just heard him swallow his own saliva - he had paused the music after a minute into the call with Cate. He blinks twice while waiting for any response, he stares straight at her.  

Her eyes barely shine through the darkness as she looks back at him. His question rattled through her mind. ‘Is it allowed’ for him to think of her as his best friend. It just didn’t make complete sense to her and she wasn’t sure if she should vocalize that doubt. But as his eyes begin to mist like a forest on a cold morning she knows she has to say something.

Her eyelids shut as she lets out a heavy breath, the processing of what Harry’s just said finishes.

“It’s allowed...Do you mean it?”

“Course I mean it,” his voice cracks, an incredulous laugh leaving his lips.

She straightens up, moving slightly from his warm embrace. He becomes fidgety without her tucked in his side. His fingers itch without her arm to caress. His lips move between his teeth without her hair to ghost over.

When she remains silent, Harry decides to continue.

“I remember the first time I saw you,” he croaks and she furrows her brow at this. “It was the day you moved in...Had just come home from my morning run and you’d pulled up in your moving van. I thought you had on the coolest pair of jeans I’d ever seen…” He pauses. He takes a deep breath and her eyes are watering now.

“I also thought you were one of the most beautiful women I’d ever seen and I knew I had to know you.”

“Why’d it’d take you so long?” Is all she asks as she tries to will away the water welling in her eyes.

Harry rolls his lips together and breathlessly laughs, head tilted up to the sky. “Never knew how to approach ya’. Then you bumped into me, felt like it was the universe kicking me for being so damn slow.”

She bites her lip, a tear rolling down her cheek finally. “Oh, Harry.”

Then there it is. What the last few months had been leading up to. The moment where they no longer were able to wonder what the other would taste like. No more guessing. No more wondering. It was concrete. It was her lips pressed to Harry’s. She laughed lightly after a moment, pressing closer to him. His lips felt like the softest pillow she could ever lay on and she never wanted to get out of bed.

A small breath came out of his nose as he pressed eagerly back against her. She tasted like ginger and chocolate and maybe cherry - her chapstick possibly. He sucked at her lips, never wanting the taste or the feeling to go away. She was so soft and smooth and she responded quickly to his push.

Her hands wrapped around the back of his neck and into his hair as he pulled her closer by her waist. They were attempting to inhale one another, taking inventory of every possible crevice of each other they hadn’t touched before.

Harry’s lips part slightly as he swipes his tongue across her bottom lip. She giggles, tugging him over her and opening up her mouth easily. He pushes forward, a small sound leaving his mouth as he shifts them into a lying position on the couch, her legs encircling his waist.

A hand runs along her jaw, down her neck, across her collarbone and then down her arm. It lands so that he can intertwine their hands together. He feels her smile beneath him and he smiles back despite their lips never leaving one another. His other hand caresses her cheek as he kisses her.

Eventually, his lips roam around her face and on her neck aways, but mostly he focuses on her lips. Both of them are more than happy with this decision as they continue on for what feels like hours. Yet still those hours don’t feel long enough.

She pulls at a button on his shirt at one point, but Harry pulls back.

“I think we should call it a night.”

“Really?” She looks at him with confusion and a swirl of hurt in her eyes.

“It’s late, love, and… we just, I don’t want to rush anything.”

“Alright,” she nods, sitting up and running a finger down the side of his face.

“I think I’ve been doing best friends wrong all this time.” she muses, tracing lines on Harry’s neck now. Her eyes focused on her work.

“And why’s that?” Harry asks, his own hands running up and down her back.

“I’ve never snogged a best friend for hours on end.” She laughs and Harry can’t help his snort.

He moves his head to rest on her shoulder, almost like a hug, but not quite. She doesn’t move away, simply turns her head to continue watching her hands trace him, her work now moving to the back of his neck and his upper back and shoulders.

He hums a little bit, a love song he had played for himself the last few weeks when he tried to fall asleep and all that he could think of was her. She smiles softly and places a kiss on his shoulder.

“Let’s go to bed, darling.”

Harry nods, wrapping his arms around Y/N and carrying her to her room.

-

The next morning she finds herself wrapped happily in a set of strong, tattooed arms. She sighs content, snuggling closer to the warm naked chest in front of her.

“G’morning,” the man beneath her whispers. His voice a low rumbling rasp, she feels the vibrations below her.

“Morning,” she mumbles, nuzzling her nose into the crevice of his sternum, just above the butterfly that lives on his chest.

He hums at the feeling, slightly shivering from the cold, but pulls her closer nonetheless. She caresses his side with a light touch in response. Her fingers trace unknown patterns down his ribcage and then dip to the ferns peeking from his boxers. He shifts slightly when her fingers travel there. A place no one but him had touched in a long time.

“’ve got a plane to catch,” he says sadly and he brushes a hair from her face as she turns to look at his face.

His neck strains to regard her and he has a bit of a double chin from this angle, but she couldn’t care less. He looked so beautiful staring down at her. She never wanted to look away or lose this image. His eyelashes lightly caressed the skin just below his eyes everytime he blinked. It was quiet enough that if she listened close she could hear each flutter. The eyes behind them were even better, a dark rim of green encases emerald irises that hold black and gold specs, stars and stories swirl hidden beneath it all. She wants to drown in it.

He winks at her as she stares, growing disarmed with her intense gaze on him for so long. Her calming caress keeps him grounded though and she laughs at the wink, relieving him of her scrutiny that he didn’t understand was awe.

She groans, unhappy, “Miss it.”

“I can’t,” he drags out, not wanting to leave either.

“Can’t convince you to stay, no?” She rolls on top of him, pushing her chest against him and giving him doe eyes.

His strong arms encircle her waist as her legs straddle him. She arches more into him and leans down to kiss in between his pecs. Her eyes never leave his face, watching his reaction. It’s his turn to groan with a loud sigh to match. He throws his head back and steals himself to say,

“Not even a chance.”

She remembers when he had begged her to come with him and she smiles at his recycling over her response.

“Fair enough,” she says and rolls off of him. His head falls to the side to watch her get up and begin her day. He takes a deep breath, wishing he didn’t have to leave.

Harry heads back to his place to get ready for his departure. Before he leaves he joins Y/N and Rori for an early tea at the café. They get their drinks to go and walk back to Harry’s together. When they arrive, Harry’s car is waiting and she feels a dryness in her throat. He looks down at Rori and gives him a quick pet. He turns to her and she smiles weakly.

Harry’s hand encircles her wrist, caressing her softly. He leans down quickly and pecks her lips. It feels like he was barely there and then he was gone. It was like a butterfly had landed on her lips and wrist and then it had vanished.

Off his sleek black car goes, soon out of sight and headed for the airport. And there she is, left on Sherwood Avenue. Her fingers move to dance over her lips and then over her jaw and down her neck. Every place his touch had burned her in the past 24 hours. And now he was gone, across the world.

No talk of what came next had been spoken between them. She wasn’t sure what they were and didn’t know if she could handle that talk over the phone. She walked home after a few minutes of standing with her dog in front of Harry’s now vacant home. She sat silently in her house for half of the day.

At dusk, she decides on a run, maybe it will get her mind off her neighbour. She had sat in the same spot for too long. The same spot they had kissed each other last night. Maybe a change of scenery would stop the movie reel of last night that kept playing over and over in her mind.

She runs down the street, specifically keeping her eyes off the lovely home across from her, and keeps running down different streets, past the café, down to the park, and then finally reaches a stream that is past some brush and trees at the end of the park. There’s a bench there that seems like a nice place to rest.

Her music has been playing the entire time, the playlist she chose was inundated with Taylor Swift - but not chosen for that specific reason. Each song thankfully not from 1989. At least not until she’s running through the park. “You are in love” begins to play, it’s soft Twin Peaks-esque opening is familiar to her. It fits the cool rush of wind against her skin and the leaves that have turned brown as fall has worn on. She’d listened to it a thousand times. Sometimes thinking about the man who inspired the song, but all those times were long before she had ever met him.

Now that she knew him, she almost skipped it, but shook her head to herself feeling silly for feeling uncomfortable listening to a song she liked. Her run turns into a walk as she reaches the stream. The chorus begins. Taylor softly serenades about being in love. About a man in love with a woman. About Harry being in love with her.

She takes a deep breath, hearing the words a little different this time. Taylor sings “You kiss on sidewalks” and this morning flashes in her mind. She looks out at the stream, the water rushing along as she stands there, still catching her breath. Then the next part of the song reaches into her heart and twists it with all its might.

“One night he wakes, strange look on his face, pauses, then says, ‘you’re my best friend’.”

And that’s it. She takes out her headphones, her breath no longer capable of being caught. She breathes heavier and heavier. Her throat was as tight and dry as when Harry had left this morning. Possibly even worse. She can’t even swallow this time. Her phone and headphones are discarded on the bench as she raises her hands to her face and begins to pace beside the stream. Her eyes eventually match the body of water next to her and she feels a sob wrack through her. She couldn’t breath, her running and panic had brought her asthma to the forefront and she was hyperventilating, gasping for air. She was drowning and no one was there to help her.

Tears stream down her face and she moves her hands to her thighs as she tries to calm down, not knowing how she reached this level of distraughtness. Deep breaths she reminds herself. She licks her lips and shuts her eyes. “Just ground yourself,” she whispers.

When she’s finally gotten ahold of herself she sits at the bench and stares into the stream. A distorted version of herself seems to stare back. It’s constantly moving, swirling, and changing  and as she watches that version of herself she wants to scream. Her tears had faded awhile ago, but the fear was still there.

The last few months had been so easy, had been so perfect. Going over to each other’s houses and being with each other. But if she ignored history wasn’t she destined to repeat it? When she heard the confessional of the man Taylor had loved in her song, when he had told her she was his best friend which meant he was in love, she felt hurt. She knew how their story ended. Taylor and Harry’s. He left. He left her when she needed him and today, Y/N realized it’s what he does. It wasn’t his fault, she didn’t blame him for leaving today. It was his job, not another woman. But holy fuck when she heard Taylor sing those lyrics, it felt like she had been hit on the head out of nowhere. Reminded that she had been living in a fairytale for the last few months, swept up in a fantasy that she wasn’t meant to be a part of.

She ran a hand over her face, rubbing slightly at her cheek. The same cheek Harry had caressed last night and she sighed. She stared off into the trees and then shook her head, standing up and heading back home. Alone.

Harry calls her when he arrives at LAX. She doesn’t pick up. He calls the next day. She doesn’t pick up. He texts and receives no response for three days.

She thought she didn't know what she would say.

“I listened to too much of your ex’s music and now I’m insecure.”

“I feel like you’re gonna leave me someday so I’m too afraid to do anything with you.”

“Is it alright if we’re just friends, I don’t think my heart could take the pain of falling in love with you and then losing you.”

“You can’t promise me forever and after just one kiss I knew I couldn’t do anything less.”

“The price of loving you is far too high.”

She types them all out and then deletes them every time. Too scared. Instead:

“I’m busy with work, I don’t know when I won’t be. Let’s just plan on meeting up when you’re home.”

Harry nods when he sees the text on Friday. He tells her to take care and make sure she gets enough rest. He wipes away the stray tear that decided to escape his eyes after reading her response. He exhales and looks to the sky, wondering what could have possibly happened since he had left. He sends little emojis over the next few weeks that she puts a heart on, but she doesn’t communicate otherwise.

Harry doesn’t ask her to pick him up. Instead he sends flowers to her house the Thursday before he returns. They make her smile and she wonders if maybe she can move past every red flag she feels like she sees. After a month away, she can’t lie and say she’s not excited for Harry to return. She missed his warm skin and his soft hair. She missed everything and the flowers had only made her wish it had been Harry on her doorstep a couple days early.

He gets home on the 12th and he’s at her door after throwing his things in his entryway.

She opens the door and bites her lip as she takes in who it is.

Harry says her name breathlessly and she melts. Her doubts fly out the window for the moment and all she wants are his lips on hers.

She falls into him and his lips are on hers. They twist into one another and their lips move softly yet urgently against one another. Not sure how to explain the last four weeks, they both attempt to say everything in that kiss. All her pain and confusion press into Harry’s lip with each breath. All his sadness and longing tug at her lips as he sucks her bottom lip into his mouth and hungers for more.

He pulls back and stares straight into her eyes, “Come to Italy with me for the holidays.”

She tilts her head confused, trying to catch her own breath.

“I’m not sure what happened while I was gone, love. But I know I missed you and I can’t go another month without you. Just say yes and we’ll take it from there...Please,” he begs, voice cracking as he holds her cheek.

She wets her lips and opens them to speak, but her voice betrays her. Instead she just nods and squeaks out a noise of approval. Too elated to speak, they press their lips back together and she pulls Harry into her home. 

December was far too cold to snog out in the freezing night air.

-

[i-like-writing-stuff]

sorry [five hargreeves x reader]

request: wanted to say I love ur 5 fics and how you portray their relationship as old partners :”) 💖If it’s not trouble to do (Dont feel obligated plz) I had this idea of 5 and reader having a fight and them being too prideful or bitter to apologize. Reader ignores him for some time and Five gets grumpier than usual bc of that. To the point where, one of his siblings tell him to just stop being children, apologize and give them flowers. But he finds it hard bc he is not good with that kinda of stuff ☺️

a/n: thank youuu <3, i try my best to keep the tua characters in... well, character lol- as much as possible! i hope this fic turned the way you wanted it, anyway- enjoy!!~

summary: five gets grumpy when his girlfriend gives him the silent treatment for being a jerk... shocker.

“Could you stop for one damn second and relax?!” You yelled at your boyfriend, already stressed out by the way he had been almost carving a hole through the floor of the living room with all his pacing.

“Relax?!” Five yelled, turning to glare at you, “Do you even realize how stupid you sound?! How could I relax- I lost my last lead on that fucking eye!”

“Come again?” You raised a brow, crossing your arms as you watched him curiously. Did he just call you stupid indirectly?

Your nerves were tugging at the last threads of patience you had left within you- they had been doing that for a few days. You knew that life wouldn’t be quiet when you decided to give a relationship with your partner a shot, but you never expected things to get so messy.

Not only you followed his grumpy butt all the way to 2019 to stop an apocalypse- which you couldn’t care less about, now you had been stuck in your younger bodies because he miscalculated something before traveling in time. On top of all that, he had been a jerk to his siblings- which you grew quite fond of and viceversa, he also started being an asshole to you, all because he couldn’t find a way to stop the apocalypse.

“Five Hargreeves, did you just call me stupid?” You asked, seeing that he was frozen in place, going back over his words in his mind.

“Not exactly.” He knitted his brows in confusion, before realizing the irritated look on your face, “I don’t have time for this, Y/N.”

“You think I had any time these past two years putting up with your shit?” You retorted, making him raise his brows in surprise by your sudden burst, “Screw you, asshole.”

“Now that was rude!” He yelled after you, once you started walking out of the room, completely ignoring him, “Y/N!”

You had been with the Commission for over four decades, you completely trusted its choices, since you never were given a reason not to. Well, that was until the Handler recruited Five Hargreeves. He was about four-five years older than you, but nonetheless still had the impeccable skills of an assassin- just what the organization wanted and needed.

You, being one of the Handler’s most trusted agents, she assigned him under your wing in the beginning until he’d get adjusted. So, he became your partner, it didn’t take long until he became your partner in the real sense of the word.

Five was in love with you- stupidly in love with you. He loved your wit and your kindness, he loved that he could have intellectual conversations with you for hours on end, he loved the fact that he’d feel whole again with just one look at your face, your smile, your eyes.

But he was a prideful man, he knew that. If he was wrong- which he rarely was, he had no intention of apologizing. You knew how important stopping the apocalypse was to him, but... it pained you to see him almost lose his shit completely when he loses the last remaining lead.

For the next couple of hours, you completely avoided him at all costs until he’d get that stick out of his ass and apologize. 

And he’d better have a grand way of doing it.

You knew that it was not like him- he’d never apologize, and the fact that you were avoiding him was not making it any easier on him, but you were beyond pissed. Even if he may not have meant it, all you tried to do was help him relax for a moment, take a breather before that pretty head of his would explode. And in return? 

In return, Five fucking Hargreeves continues being an asshole- what a surprise.

“Jesus, where did all the caffeine in this house go?!” Five groaned, searching the cupboards in the kitchen, feeling grumpier than usual.

“I told you- dad didn’t like it.” Allison reminded him, as she and Luther sat at the table, watching him in confusion, “What’s got into you?”

“What are you talking about?” He asked, not done yet with his search- he wanted at least something that felt like coffee, “Come on- we don’t even have... coffee flavored fucking chocolate or some shit like that..?” He mumbled, shutting the cupboard with a loud smack.

“She means... you’re... grumpier... than usual...” Luther hesitantly explained, afraid that his little-older psychotic brother might have finally snapped.

“Mind your business, will ya?” Five asked with a fake smile, stomping out of the kitchen.

“I love Y/N, I swear I do... and oddly enough, Five too.” Allison spoke up, “But honestly, what was she thinking becoming his girlfriend?”

“I am just happy for her they’re not married.” Luther shrugged, resting his hand on his palm, as Diego walked into the kitchen;

“Is it just me or is Five a lesser ray of sunshine than usual?”

The following day, you treated Five with the same coldness as the prior day, which really drove him insane. Not only he spent the night in his bed alone, since you decided to bunk for the night in one of the empty rooms, but now you were still giving him the silent treatment.

Luckily, during breakfast, the Hargreeves siblings finally managed to understand what was going on.

“Hey, Diego, do you think we can pay Eudora a visit at the station after breakfast?” You asked the man, “I promised her the other day some files to help with an investigation she has on the side.”

“Sure thing.” Diego smiled, looking forward to seeing the detective again, even if he bickered with her from time to time.

“What files?” Five asked curiously.

“Vanya, can you please pass me the salt?” You ignored him, smiling at his sister.

Vanya raised a brow, unsure what to do, as the other siblings were piecing the puzzle together. Five raised a brow, as you avoided eye contact with him, waiting for the salt shaker which was, ironically, closer to him than Vanya.

“Here.” He said, reaching for it before his sister, handing it to you.

You looked at him with a smile, then at the salt shaker that was waiting on you to pick it from your boyfriend’s hand. Instead, you scoffed, getting up from your seat with your plate in your hands, suddenly losing your appetite.

“I am gonna go change.” You declared, placing your dish in the sink, “Diego, I’ll wait for you in the car.”

“Unbelievable....” Five muttered, throwing the salt shaker somewhere on the table, before abruptly getting up from his seat to pour himself a cup of freshly made coffee- Klaus made sure to stock up since Allison and Luther told him what had happened the other day.

“Why is Y/N giving you the cold shoulder?” Diego asked his brother, raising a brow.

“Leave me alone.” Five muttered, leaving the room even grumpier, with his hot cup of coffee in his hand to at least soothe him down a bit.

“Five!” Allison yelled after him, but he was already out of there, “Urgh, he’s such a child!”

After you and Diego had left the Hargreeves mansion, Five found it hard to focus on trying to get another lead on the prosthetic eye- he could not stop thinking about the fact that it almost had been twenty four hours since the woman he loved had chosen to deliberately ignore him, all because his stupid mouth could not help snapping at her.

What a moron he was, he knew that.

“Y/N told me what happened.” Allison told her brother, entering his room softly, watching as he laid on his bed on his back, “And woah- aren’t you an asshole?”

“What do you want, Allison?” He asked, rolling his eyes, staring up at his ceiling.

“Here’s a crazy idea... why don’t you apologize?” She suggested, crossing her arms.

“Have you... met me?” Five frowned, lifting his head to watch his sister in confusion.

“Look, you and Y/N both need to stop being children!” She said, “I know you may have teen bodies, but aren’t you both like over fifty? Honestly, Five...”

“Knowing I will regret this, what do you suggest, Allison?” Five asked with a sigh, watching as his sister smirked in response.

You and Diego didn’t really take long to finish your business at the police station. In about thirty minutes, you both were back on your way home, unaware of the big surprise that was waiting for you.

You entered the house, stretching your arms, already telling yourself you needed a drink, even if it was only noon. You figured a glass of some expensive bourbon would calm you down, so you made your way in the living room, as Diego went to his room in his own business.

Although, you couldn’t help but widen your eyes in surprise, as you stopped in your tracks once your look fell on Five, who was sitting at the bar with a Margarita in one hand, and a big bouquet of flowers rested in his lap.

“Five?” You frowned, stepping towards him confused.

Never in his life, would Five ever think he’d be so happy to hear his name on your lips. He softly smiled, realizing that Allison’s plan was working, as you finally spoke to him, even if it was one word.

“Y/N.” Five gulped, setting down his glass to jump off the stool, “These are for you...” He hesitantly said, stretching his hands towards you, as he held the big, colorful bouquet of all sorts of flowers towards you.

“I... Uh... what?” You frowned, taken aback by the gesture.

Five wasn’t necessarily the romantic type, so this was the first bouquet of flowers you ever received from him. You knew he loved you with all his heart and he was in love with you, that’s why you didn’t care about the romantic gestures he never did- but, right now, watching his cheeks turn into a slight shade of pink as he was biting on his bottom lip anxiously- your heart melted.

Allison had given him all sorts of advice on how to apologize to you with the help of Vanya, since they were both well aware of the fact that their brother was not capable of saying such words by himself. But right now, as you stood before him, Five had forgotten all that they taught him.

“I... I suck at this kind of stuff, I gotta be honest.” Five sighed, stepping closer to you, still with the bouquet in his hands, as you were still hesitant, “I... I shouldn’t have snapped at you, Y/N, I know. You didn’t deserve to be told that, even if I didn’t mean it at all. I swear, I was only mad and I never meant to take it out on you.”

“Oh my God.” You covered your mouth in shock, “Are you... actually... trying to apologize to me?”

“Sort of... yeah...” Five sighed, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly, “Look, what I am trying to say... What I am trying to say is that I appreciate your love, and having your support with me, and I know you care about my well-being.”

“Keep going...” You smirked, stepping closer to him, “Come on... they are three simple words.”

“Right...” Five sighed, running a hand through his hair, “Look, Y/N? I... I am...”

You didn’t even let him finish, as you softly took the bouquet out of his hand not to squish it, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him into a tight hug. You knew how hard it must have been so far for a know-it-all like Five to say that, so you didn’t want to push him further. To you it was enough that he at least felt sorry for bursting like that.

“I love you.” Five sighed, wrapping his arms around your waist, “And I truly mean what I said earlier.”

“I love you too.” You smiled, not yet pulling away from the loving embrace, “And I know... I know...”

Five pulled away to smile down at you, “Thank you for being so understanding... and supportive.”

“I’d say it is my pleasure, but I’d be lying.” You teased him, bopping his nose with the free hand that was not wrapped around his neck still and holding the flowers.

“Hilarious.” Five sarcastically said, slowly leaning in, “I think I liked it better when you weren’t talking.”

“Really?” You scoffed, but before you could continue the playful banter, Five had already captured your lips into a soft kiss, finding a better way to shut you up.

[angryschnauzer]

Jingle My Bells

Summary: Continuing my AU Rugby Teacher theme that was so brilliantly plot bunny’d by @feelmyroarrrr​, Henry finds himself bored at home having been put onto quarantine due to cases at the school he teaches at. With his school shutting early for the holidays, when his wife needs help at her school, she calls in his assistance for some festive fun... with some after hours fun for themselves too.

Pairing: AU Rugby Teacher Henry Cavill x Teacher Wife

Warnings: Bad Puns, NSFW, 18+, Established Relationship, Public/Risky Sex Workplace Sex, Henry dressed as Santa Claus (yes thats a warning in itself).

Gif by @littlefreya​ and used with her kind permission.

Previous Rugby Teacher Henry Ficlet.

Masterlist on AO3, and old fics can be found at @angryschnauzerwrites​. I don’t run a tag list.

Jingle My Bells

Henry was bored. Two weeks of quarantine after another faculty member had tested positive had meant he'd been confined to the house 24/7. Just as his test results had come back negative and his return to work for the last week of term had been scheduled, the high school had been notified that two students had come in contact with confirmed cases, so to cut their losses the board of governors had simply implemented end of term a week early.

And sure, Henry had done what he could to help keep himself busy; online gaming, World of Warcraft, hell; he'd even helped you mark homework for your primary school class. He cooked dinner for you so it was ready the moment you arrived home, and the house was the cleanest it'd ever been, but without you home with him he was just… bored.

"Just one more day, then its the end of term" you'd reassured him as you'd kissed him goodbye that morning, and he'd pulled you into his arms;

"Will you wear the elf outfit home tonight?"

"Oh, does someone have an elf kink?" You'd grinned and raised an eyebrow.

Henry lifted his hand to the little bells that were attached to your green knit dress;

"I kinda want to find out how i can make these jingle… i have some ideas…"

"Well you can fill my stockings after work, but i've got to go or i'll be late…" you pressed a kiss to his cheek; "Got to set up the area for Santa" 

With a groan your husband released you;

"Fine, but i want you to sit on my lap later"

-

Henry was standing at the fridge contemplating whether eating Babybell cheeses wrapped in Parma ham sandwiched between two slices of toast counted as lunch when his phone rang. Seeing your school's number on the display he was half curious and half worried, but visibly relaxed when he heard your voice;

"Hennn…." You purred

"Oh god… you only use that voice when you want something i won't like…"

"Are you free this afternoon?"

He sighed over dramatically;

"What do you need?"

"We need a Santa. The guy we booked was someone's grandad but he's been on the sherry and we had to send him home because he was slurring his speech and referred to the kids as 'crotch gobins'"

Henry let out a snort of laughter;

"I've met your class… some of them are…"

"Nevertheless… could you stand in? We've got the suit, and you've been quarantining for 3 weeks so are safe… pleeease…"

"Hmmmmnn"

"Hennn, please… i've got a thirty kids that still believe…"

Henry sighed;

"Okay… i'll be there in ten minutes"

“You’ll need to walk…there’s no space left in the staff car park”

He sighed;

“Okay, make it thirty minutes”

-

If there was an award for best/worst performance as Santa, Henry would have got it hands down. Putting on his best pantomime Brian Blessed voice, he'd Ho Ho Ho'd his way through the three youngest classes of wide eyed Little Ones that had thoroughly loved meeting Santa. When it had come to the older kids in the Junior years, generally 8 years old and above, he'd taken a different tactic, instead filing them out to the playground and if they could score a hoop through the Netball net, he'd deem them nice rather than naughty.

By the time hometime rolled around every single child had a smile on their face, excitedly rushing out to their parents waiting at the gate, pointing out Santa to their younger siblings sat in Pushchairs and Prams.

When you’d finally waved everyone off you made your way back to your classroom, the security door alert sounding as you entered the corridor, the hallways quiet where your colleagues had already packed up their stuff and left for the day. Henry trailed behind you, chattering away about what the kids had told him, shedding himself of the fake Santa beard and the scratchy jacket, leaving him wearing the hat, his plain black t-shirt, and the Santa trousers and boots. He flopped down into your chair as you busied yourself around the classroom, his feet up on your desk. 

Moving around him you stacked papers ready to be archived when he wrapped his hands around your waist and pulled you onto his lap;

“Come and sit on Santa’s knee”

Abandoning the papers you laughed as you settled on your husband's lap, turning to kiss him and the little bells on your dress jingled as you moved. The kiss went from chaste to needy in a matter of seconds, and you could feel Henry harden beneath your ass as you wriggled on his lap. His hand groped at your breasts through your dress as his lips started a trail along your chin and down your neck;

“Have you been naughty or nice this year?”

You wriggled on your lap;

“Oh I've been Naughty…”

Suddenly you were spinning as Henry fluidly moved to his feet, pushing you over your desk and stood behind you;

“Well i guess i’d better do something about that then” he pulled your dress up with a jingle of the bells attached and smoothed his hands over your ass, the green and white stripes of your tights framing your buttocks. With strong fingers he grasped the thin fabric and tugged, ripping a hole in them and letting out an appreciative grunt when he found you wearing a lace thong;

“You’ve been parading around in that little dress with this poor excuse for underwear beneath all day? You really have been a naughty girl” he purred in your ear as his fingers tugged the elastic aside.

You tried to move away, painfully aware of your location;

“Hen! We’re at school!”

“Shhh… the door alarm to the hallway will sound if anyone comes… so how about i make you cum before that happens, eh?”

His fingers had found your clit as he’d pushed his thumb into your velvet channel, and any further arguments were lost on your tongue as you sighed in pleasure;

“Hen, make it quick… the cleaners will be doing their rounds soon”

Looking over your shoulder you watched as Henry quickly shoved the Santa trousers and boxers down, his thick and meaty dick springing free where he was already rock hard and dripping with need;

“I’m gonna jingle your bells darling…” he positioned himself and quickly thrust in, making you gasp at the sudden stretch of it; “Gonna fill your stockings…”

“Tights” you corrected

“Same fucking thing” he grunted as he started to pound into you, the rhythmic thud of his efforts topped off with the delicate jingling of the bells on your dress. His hands moved and grabbed at your breasts, his breath hot and heavy against your ear as he filled you hard and fast from behind; “Want me to come down your chimney tonight?”

Grinning you turned your head;

“How about we save that for when we’re at home…?”

Henry paused, his eyes going wide when he realised you were agreeing to the one thing in your sex life you hadn’t tried yet, even after being married for a number of years and him dropping numerous hints;

“Really?”

“Well, i know you didn’t put it on your Christmas list but if a elf is gonna be naughty she might as well be naughty all the way…” you winked at him; “But you gotta hurry up now…”

With a grunt of determination he started to pound into you, one hand moving down your stomach and pushing between your legs, rubbing at your clit as he did his best to quickly bring you both to orgasm. Your moans started to get louder, and he clamped his other hand over your mouth as he started to feel you cuming, your body shaking and the loud thuds of his thrusts filling the room as your desk squeaked on the linoleum floor. With a grunt he thrust in deep and at the height of your orgasm you felt him flooding your womb with rope of his creamy seed, his massive hands pulling you to his chest as he buried his face in your neck whilst your cunt milked the last of his cum from his body. 

Breathless and glowing, you rested your head on Henry’s shoulder, your chest heaving before he carefully pulled out of you, pulling your underwear back into place as he tucked himself back into his boxers and Santa trousers. As you shimmied your dress back down you heard the thrumming of the floor polisher along the corridor, your eyes going wide before Henry turned you and rested his hands on your shoulders;

“C’mon, lets get home”

Taking a deep breath you smiled;

“Help be grab the last few bits then we can go”

Five minutes later you were stepping out of your classroom, Henry holding the large box of things you wanted to bring home for the holidays including your peace lily, pulling the door shut when you heard footsteps, turning to see the after hours cleaner;

“Night Mr Howell, have a good Christmas!”

“Merry Christmas Mrs Cavill…” he paused when he saw Henry standing next to you

“This is my Husband, he stood in as Santa today”

The old man nodded and smiled, carrying on with his mop as you walked in the opposite direction. Just as you got the security door you heard him starting to whistle, your eyes shooting up to meet Henry’s as you heard the tune;

‘Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle all the way…’

Henry wrapped his free arm around your shoulders;

“C’mon my naughtly little Elf, i’ll drive you home” he grinned at you; “Then we can see about that chimney of yours…”

You clenched at the thought, your body already tingling at the thought of it. And hey, if you were going to let your husband finally fuck your ass, at least you had the entire school holidays to recover.

[doyumacy]

RIDE OUT - 5

ʏᴜᴛᴀ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ x ᴍᴀʀᴋ ʟᴇᴇ

ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: ꜱᴍᴜᴛ, ᴅʀᴀᴍᴀ, ᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴ

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ᴜꜱᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴅʀᴜɢꜱ, ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ, ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴏᴠᴇʀᴅᴏꜱᴇ, ꜱᴜɢɢᴇꜱᴛɪᴠᴇ ᴛᴀʟᴋ, ᴛᴀᴇʏᴏɴɢ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ, ᴊᴀᴇʜʏᴜɴ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ, ᴊᴀᴇᴍɪɴ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 2,4k

ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ: @coffee-prince-kyungsoo @xcharlottemikaelsonx

6, 7

you groan and get off your car, slamming the door. it’s been two weeks since you started racing against the famous ‘jwi’ and you still haven’t won. you are frustrated and doyoung is upset and desperate.

how come no one hasn’t beat the guy? maybe he’s too good. and maybe you’re not that good.

the streets are saying who the famous ‘jwi’ might be and they are betting on some people you know they’re not capable of doing what he does.

as the finish line begins to empty, you see doyoung staring at you. you know what he’s thinking: ways of murdering you and chopping your body so he can feed his dogs. he takes his middle finger to his thumb, snapping them. you sigh and approach him. “what?”

“i still haven't seen results,” he cocks an eyebrow. “it seems you’re not as good as they say.”

“then fire me.” you spit back.

“i could,” he nods. “but i’m way too invested in this, so you’re gonna finish what you have to do.”

“okay, then give me more t-”

“no more time, y/n. next race, if you don’t win tell your brother to dig a hole next your beloved yuta,” he mocks.

you clench your fists. “fuck you.”

“gladly.”

when doyoung is gone, you return to your car and sit there for a couple of minutes. you don’t want to go home. johnny will bomb you with questions and the last thing you need is him giving you a lecture. you turn on the car and start driving to mark’s place in glendale. you excuse it by saying is the closest place to your location.

when you arrive at his building, you park your car behind mark’s and get off it. you see a girl leaving the building and you hurry so the door won’t lock. you get into the elevator and press the 3 button. as the door opens, you make your way through the hallway until you’re in front of mark’s door. you slightly knock twice.

you hear footsteps approaching the door and you quickly fix your hair. the door opens, showing a red haired wearing a big shirt. mark’s shirt. it’s the same red haired he was flirting with weeks ago.

“can i help you?” the red haired aks.

“sorry. i got the wrong door,” you murmur and turn on your heels.

“so you were not looking for mark?” the red haired leans against the doorframe.

you frown as you turn to face her. “you know me?”

“how will i not know the whore my boyfriend is banging?” she cocks an eyebrow.

boyfriend?

you giggle, nervously. “i got the wrong door.”

and you leave. as you leave the building, you feel your eyes tearing up. why are you crying? men do that all the time. they get you and play with you until they’re done and ready to get someone else.

fucking stupid mark.

you feel so fooled and you can’t believe mark played with you all this time. you want to cry, and you don’t know if it’s because your heart aches or you’re just angry at him.

mark gets out of the bathroom, drying his new dyed hair. “who was it?” he asks.

“they got the wrong door,” yves shrugs.

mark nods. “thanks for dying my hair, yves. and sorry for ruining your clothes.”

she smirks. “it’s okay. i look sexier like this anyway.”

mark frowns. “when did you take off your jeans?”

“a minute ago,” she walks to mark and wrap her arms around his waist. “i was thinking of having fun tonight.”

mark yanks himself free and shakes his head. “not today. at least with me, not anymore.”

yves knits her eyebrows together. “why not?”

“because… i just don’t want to.” mark puts a hoodie on.

“is it because of that whore, right?”

mark’s eyes darts to her. “don’t call her like that, yves.”

“why not?” she rests her hands on her waist. “she’s a whore.”

mark clenches his jaw. “get the fuck out of my apartment.”

“what?” yves stares at him. “you’re gonna put her over me? are you fucking insane?”

“yes, yves.” mark throws her her jeans. “leave.”

“you’re gonna regret this.” she groans as she puts her jeans on. “i’m way much better than her and you know it.”

“whatever you say.” mark opens the door for her.

yves grabs her purse and walks to the door. she stands in front of mark. “you’re wasting your time if you think she’s gonna like you back. she’s too busy thinking of his dead boyfriend.”

(...)

when you arrive home you groan. johnny is throwing a party. again. but maybe some buzz will help you tonight. you enter your house and make your way through the crowded living room. you need a drink. a strong one. or maybe something else.

you spot taeyong walking to the bathroom and hurry walking to him. when you finally approach him, you take his hand and he looks at you. he knows what you want and he can give it to you. but instead of getting into the bathroom, you take him to your bedroom upstairs.

“what are you trying to do to me?,” taeyong jokes, the whiskey in his system.

once you’re inside your bedroom, his hand reches playfully snatching the bags out of his pocket and examining them a bit. you look up and smile. “sharing is caring.”

taeyong smirks. “what will i get in exchange?”

you shrug. “i’ll think about it.”

taeyong sees how you sniffle, and then your shoulders twitch forward in a stifled giggle. “oh man. that shit’s strong.”

“just the best.” taeyong smiles and he’s the nex to sniffle a line.

you realise you’re starting to feel hot. so you start to strip your clothes and are standing in your underwear and when you realise taeyong’s eyes are on you. coke has never made you hard before, but tonight it is. maybe is because you want to get revenge.

“should i leave?” taeyong asks, his eyes still on your body.

“no.”

“okay.”

you get close to him and take his neck from the back and kiss him. taeyong’s hand rest on your waist, pulling you closer to him. one warm hand finds your jaw and holds you steady as taeyong and sticks his tongue inside your mouth. his fingers urging you to open your mouth. you do so and now your tongues are swirling together.

taeyong breaks the kiss and you bite his tongue when he drags it out your mouth. “this is wrong.” he mutters.

“i don’t care.”

you kiss him again, slipping your tongue into his mouth. taeyong groans and pulls away. "yuta was my best friend."

"yuta is dead!" you growl, clenching your jaw.

taeyong is looking at you and you shake your head. "just... leave."

"y/n..." taeyong tries to approach you but you wave him off.

"we'll talk tomorrow," you say.

taeyong leaves your bedroom and you groan when he shuts the door. why are you so mad? clearly not with taeyong but with mark. and yourself.

yourself mostly. why do you even care if mark is fooling around with some other chicks? it’s not like he’s your boyfriend or anything, and you haven’t discussed being exclusive. then why do you feel betrayed?

“fuck it. fuck you, mark lee,” you mumble.

you put your clothes back on and join the people in the party. you’d find someone to fuck eventually. and you do.

jaehyun spots you sexily dancing alone, holding a red cup with your right hand. he knows you're high, because you wouldn't be dancing alone in front of other people. and he's high too.

he approaches you and takes you by your hips. "where have you been?"

"everywhere," you reply.

jaehyun smirks and grips at your hips. "i like your skirt, you look hot."

jaehyun and you constantly flirt, everyone knows it. but never in a million years you think the thought of him fucking you would cross your mind. and to be honest, it doesn't sound bad at all.

you turn and wrap your arms around his neck. "would you like it to take it off?" you stare at his lips. "I'm not wearing any panties."

jaehyun grins and nips at your lip. "i will take it off with one condition."

"what?"

"let's make a threesome."

the cocaine is making the men's talk even more grating. you don't care about anything they're saying. you only care that they’re good looking enough for a casual threesome, and you are already planning out the sexual acts that will keep their mouths occupied and make them shut the fuck up.

jaehyun invites his good friend jaemin. you don't remember much but arriving to jaehyun's place, drinking and doing more coke before the action began.

and you can tell it was nice fuck since you could barely move the next morning. and then the flashbacks: jaehyun taking you from the back and you sucking jaemin's dick.

oh my god.

you try to be as much silent as you can be when you get home, hoping johnny is stil sleeping and jisung didn’t even see you leave the party with two men. as you’re taking the stairs, a loud noise makes you turn. it’s johnny holding a cup of coffee. you curse yourself internally.

“brother!” you smile at him. “good morning. did you do something to your hair? it looks really good today.”

johnny doesn’t even blink and you know he’s mad. you sigh. “are you upset at me?”

johnny presses his lips together. “are you an addict?”

“what?!” you laugh. “no! what the fuck is wrong with you?”

“then why in the fucking hell you keep sniffling that shit, y/n?” he starts climbing the stairs. “you wanna die? you wanna od like your mother did?”

you stare at him. “you don’t have to bring her up. i like having fun, what’s wrong with that?”

“what’s wrong with that?” he mimics your tone. “everything! are you stupid? you left the party with two men!”

“if you are going to slut sham-”

“i don’t care who you fuck, i’ve told you that,” johnny clenches his jaw. “you can fuck as many guys and many girls you want, but you don’t leave a party with two men, especually with men you don’t know. what if they killed you or something?!”

you rub your forehead. “i did know them… sort of, just one guy.”

johnny groans. “if i hear you do coke again, i swear to god y/n that i will take you to a rehab center by myself, do you hear me?”

you squint your eyes. “i am not an addict.”

“then fucking prove it,” johnny glances at you.

the next night, you run into mark when you’re leaving your house to meet with doyoung. he has a different hair color and you want to slap yourself for wanting to throw yourself at him. he looks so good.

“hey,” hey smiles at you. “where have you been? i’ve called you all day.”

“i was… busy,” you shrug, without making eye contact.

mark nods and wraps an arm around your waist, you push him away. mark frowns. “what’s wrong?”

“i don’t want your girlfriend to get upset.”

“my girlfriend?” he looks at you. “i don’t have a girlfriend. i told you.”

“that's not what it looks like,” your murmur, staring at your nails. “she seemed very comfortable wearing that white shirt you like.”

mark keeps frowning and then he gets it. he giggles and that makes you groan. “i’m sorry, i just… you knocked on my door yesterday, didnt you?”

you nod and he sighs. he holds you hands, tugging you towards him making you wrap your arms around his waist. “yves is not my girlfriend and i wasn’t doing anything with her.”

“i don’t believe you.” you say as you try to pull away. he doesn't let you.

with his one hand free, he cups your cheek. “he dyed my hair and her shirt got stained so i gave her the first one i saw.”

“she was in her panties,” you mumble.

mark nods. “yes, she was. but still, i didn’t fuck with her that night. i haven’t since i started fucking you.”

you squint your eyes. “really?”

“okay, maybe the night after we fucked for the first time, but nothing since then,” he gives you a peck.

you hum and when mark’s lips reaches to your neck, he pulls away when he sports a hickey. “i didn’t do that.”

“i know.”

“who did it?”

you shrug. “not sure.”

mark frowns, looking at you. “what do you mean?”

“two guys were with me last night, i wouldn’t know who di-” mark shuts you by kissing you, crashing his lips violently against yours.

he cups your face with his hands and starts walking backwards where your car is parked. he pushes you against the door without breaking the kiss. he grinds himself on your and you moan. “i will have to fuck the shit out of you now,” he bites your lip pulling it. “until you can’t take it anymore and cry.”

“do it,” you dare him. “let’s see if i have a good time with you as well.”

mark groans and presses his hips against yours. “you’re mine, y/n.”

“i don’t belong to anyone.”

“yes, you do.” mark kisses you. “you’re mine.”

johnny’s whistle interrupt you two and mark sighs. “tonight. my place.”

“i might go.”

“you better be there.” mark warns you.

you smile sideways and see mark and johnny getting inside your house. you get into your car and start driving to doyoung’s secret location. just when you’re about to take the freeway, you realise you’ve forgotten your phone. you sigh and make a u turn to go back and get it.

you park on the sidewalk and get off your car. you take your keys out and unlock the door entering your house and go to your bedroom when your phone is charging. you unplug it and as you’re about to leave your house, a known voice calls you.

“y/n?”

you turn and freeze when you see who’s standing in front of you.

[dcforts]

[week 3: i can still recall our last summer]

1.6k, pre s12.

Dean said it was too hot. He’d said it fifty times already since they left the bunker this morning and they were not even halfway through the journey.

He huffed and puffed, saying how uncomfortable he was in his jeans and tshirt and how much he hated his sweaty skin sticking to the vinyl seat. Cas tried to look sympathetic.

“I can’t even look at you right now,” said Dean, his eyes on the road, little drops of sweat above his upper lip. “At least loose the trench coat. I feel like I’m wearing it, it’s making me physically sick,” he said overly dramatic.

Cas indulged him and slipped it off, took off his jacket as well and loosened his tie.

Then he unbottoned his cuffs and rolled the sleeves of his shirt up to his elbows. He did a pretty nice job of it, he thought. He'd had done it a couple of times before, but Dean always said it looked messy and usually rolled them down again to do them himself.

Cas didn't mind that too much; Dean's fingertips travelling up his arms felt different than anything else he'd have ever experienced and he kind of started anticipating it.

Dean must have felt really bad today though, because he didn’t do anything but throw a quick look at him. Despite not being affected by it, Cas could tell the weather was unusually hot and Dean was definitely not used to it. Still, he could do with a change of topic.

Dean seemed to cheer up a bit when they passed a sign saying they were nearing a gas station, but then spent the time it took to get there to complain some more and apologize to his girl for not thinking of getting her a drink sooner. Cas managed to avoid making a comment on Dean talking about his car like that.

The place was pretty much empty. There were only two pumps that looked pretty old and a little store behind them. Dean stopped the car at the pump closer to the road and wriggled in his seat to take out a few dollar bills from his jeans, “I’m gonna get gas, could you go ahead to pay and get me something to drink?”

Cas nodded, “Sure.”

So he stepped into the store where the A/C was blasting and some mellow music was playing in the background. He wandered towards the fridges that held the beverages and spent a while trying not to feel overwhelmed by the choices available.

He knew what kind of beer Dean preferred, but it was too early for that. He scanned the shelves and looked for something that seemed refreshing.

There was one kind of juice that promised to be a "Natural Fruit Drink" and was stored in little colourful pouches. It looked refreshing enough. He grabbed two lemonaded drinks and a big water bottle.

“Would you consider this being a refreshing beverage?”

The old lady at the cash register smiled at him as if he was being funny, “Sure. There’s only one*, right?” she said, winking. She looked like she was expecting a reaction from him, but Cas didn’t know what to say. First of all, he was paying for two pouches.

“Uh –"

“Nevermind, dear,” she huffed a laugh, “you were probably too young to remember.”

That was highly unlikely, Cas thought. Thankfully she was handing him his receipt already so he was able to get away from the conversation with a, "Have a good day, ma’am.”

When he got outside Dean was waiting for him leaned against the Impala. There was no one else still, so he wasn’t in a hurry to free the space and lose the shade of the canopy over his head.

He had his arms crossed and looked like he was thinking intensely. Probably a way to murder the Sun.

He looked up when Cas approached, “What you got for me?”, he said and when he saw what he was carrying, he had the funniest reaction.

He started laughing.

“What?”

“Capri Sun?” he laughed some more, genuinely delighted, “God,” he said, taking one of the pouches from Cas, “Wh-why did you get these?” he asked in a silly voice and didn’t even wait for Cas to reply. “I haven’t had one of these in like – forever.”

He turned the pouch in his hands and then his smile softened and disappeared. He cleared his throat and knitted his eyebrows.

“You don’t like it?” Cas asked, confused by the sudden change of expression. “I also got you water.”

“Uh – no,” said Dean, “No, nothing like that. It’s just –” he was still turning the thing in his hands and not making any move to start drinking it. “These remind me of my mum?” he said like it was a question. He looked up at him and let out a little laugh. “It’s – weird. I can’t really – I mean I was three. I know I can’t possibly remember, and maybe most of the things are like – a wish or a dream or something, but – You know when you get like, memories from tastes and stuff? Like in In Search of Lost Time.”

Cas didn’t really know.

It must have read on his face because Dean snorted, “Forget it,” and kept going, “It brings me back to when I was a kid and – I don’t know.” He looked at the pouch. “I think it was summer? Must have been summer. I don’t even – She’d like, take me to the park, I think. I don’t remember Sam being there, so it must have been the last summer where it was just me and her, you know, before she – ” he trailed off, his hand gently squeezing the pouch. “Yeah. Anyway, I don't even know if it's real. Could be a commercial or something." He clicked his tongue, then finally jammed the straw in the plastic and brought it to his lips.

Cas was still standing there, his hands full, watching him as he drank. There was more to the story and he didn't want to interrupt. Sure enough, Dean added, “Anyway, when she was gone and we got on the road, money got a bit tight. I remember crying and kicking ‘cause my dad wasn’t buying it for me. That I remember well. I remember I learned not to ask for it anymore. So I had kind of – forgotten about it.”

He fell silent. Dean's childhood had been unfair and tragic and if Cas could have had the power to do something to set it right he would have. Dean rarely talked about it so casually. He didn't seem sad like other times, but as he finished his drink, Cas still felt the need to tell him, "I didn't mean to upset you."

"No, I'm not upset," he was quick to reply, shrugging, "I mean, real or not, it makes me feel good." He flashed out a smile, "It's making me feel good right now," he said, raising his eyebrows playfully at him, "Guess it'll remind me of today now too. And at least I'm sure this is real."

“Is today really a good memory?" asked Cas, skeptical, "You complained all the way here. And I thought you said, 'I'd rather go back to Hell than live another day like this.'"

Dean snorted, “Yeah, well," he said, one corner of his mouth going up in half a smile, "the weather is not all there is."

He looked away and walked a few steps to throw out the empty pouch. On his way back he headed straight towards Cas, and came to stand very close to him.

Cas blinked, “Do you want the other one?”

Dean smiled like he was being funny. “Nah, I’ll drink that later,” he said, but still took out of his hands both the water bottle and the juice and Cas didn’t understand what was going on when Dean sent them bouncing onto the backseat from the open window, barely taking his eyes off of him. Cas could not help but stare back.

“What-" he tried to ask, but Dean was already cupping his left elbow with one hand, soon joined by the other and unrolling the sleeve of his shirt. Oh.

Dean lowered his gaze as he worked and Cas took the chance to stare at him from such a short distance, focus on his eyelashes, his sweaty brow, the dark freckles on his skin. He was really close, closer than Cas thought he'd like to be in this heat. Cas' arm dangled by his side like a dead weight when he released it and his right arm was already halfway up in offering. Seeing that made Dean smile a little.

They were really close.

They were really close and Cas kind of wanted to step closer.

“You are so bad at this,” Dean huffed, his fingertips and knuckles brushing his skin. Cas thought it hadn’t looked that bad, but Dean would surely know better than he. He'd almost finished rolling up the other one as well, and he was slowing down his movements.

Cas wished he had four other arms.

"So -" Dean said, taking his time to smooth the last of the wrinkles, "How about a deal? If I start complaining too much, you -", he pursed his lips like he was thinking it through, but he was just trying to be funny. Cas found him funny, "you can play some music, drown out my voice."

"Do I get to choose the tape?" Cas asked, feigning innocence.

Dean looked up to give him an unamused look that said he was taking it too far, but when their eyes met he realized Cas had been waiting for that and was actually holding back a grin.

So Dean puffed a sigh to smooth the smile that was threatening to curl his lips. It didn't really work so he had to look away to hide it.

"Fine," he said in the end, finally letting go of his arm. He gave him a pat on his shoulder as he walked past him. "I'll let you choose the tape." He pointed a finger at him from the other side of the car. "Just this one time."

Cas was fine with that.

*a reference to the 82' commercial you can see here - just a fun a coincidence that it's the same year Dean's referring to :)

@bend-me-shape-me said #deancassummerprompts21 and I said YES

[henrysfedora]

Self indulgent putting some of my favourite headcanons into one post with more detail.

Elaborating on the road trip moment, but what if it was the day all the stupid wholesome shit happened as well. During the summer of '51, a moment when the main cast is happy just for one goddamn day oml:

As soon as they find out Eddie isn't busy, first they go bowling. Vito and Joe steal the show completely, never shed a single drop of sweat, out of nervousness at least, Henry tries his hardest but his ball ends up in the gutters each and every time, and Eddie is just absolutely awful, drunk from morning drinking, cannot throw the ball without throwing himself too. After countless rematches at Henry's request they finally leave to go and get changed because summer is honestly down right awful sometimes. Agreeing with the headcanon that Henry would wear sweaters, even in summer lmao, some black slacks. Eddie in a yellow or honestly a lavender knitted sweater vest, white shirt with the sleeves rolled up, beige slacks and Vito and Joe would wear the casual clothes they always wear. Except ever since I played chapter eleven I've always had a headcanon that Vito loves to wear Joe's clothes and he's totally wearing one of Joe's tropical shirts on this day, baggy and too big for him, undone because of the intense summer gaze. And look me in the damn eyes - you're telling me Vito wouldn't show off his tiddies.

One of my first headcanons was Henry owning a deluxe convertible Chevrolet because that's just Henry to a T imo. So next they all go out for a ride. You know those days where the sky is clear and completely blue without a cloud in sight, almost being multiple shades of blue because you can see so much of it, the air almost seems fuzzy because it's so damn hot, but the slight cool breeze just barely makes it bearable. Driving around the countryside out at those winding roads surrounded by dry grass fields and paddocks with wire fences, clearly their posts old and aged. Joe and Eddie in the back of the convertible getting more drunk by the minute, singing Dino (definitely in sync), Vito and Henry in the front. Another one of my first headcanons was Vito would totally risk his life to lean up in the passenger seat, so his torso is over the windshield and he gets to feel the thrill of the wind. But in doing so he gets hit in the face by a bee, ass and stinger first. So Henry has to stop the fucking car and Joe cups his face, calling him an idiot and a goofball <3 as Vito's eye get increasingly blacker and more swollen. They're listening to bo diddley most certainly, let the good times roll, long tall sally, got my mojo working, return to me. It's a moment where Henry smiles, where Vito isn't worrying about anything, Joe isn't stressed with work, Eddie faces no unfortunate news from any soldatos- or Carlo for that matter. (Bonus; no one can convince me otherwise that Vito wouldn't sit on the hood of the Chevy and pose for a picture.)

By the evening when the sun's setting, before parting Vito managed to convince everyone to play a few rounds of baseball with him. Eddie is sobering up and starting to properly take in the happy moments with his friends, this time without blacking out and forgetting half of it. Vito and Joe yet again are champions, Eddie might be okay- idk lightweight boxing = good swinging skills I guess imo lmao. Henry, would chicken out last second and flinch and/or lean/look away and completely miss. But by now, when the sun no longer shines on the city, just barely behind the horizon, they end up going to Joe's for one last glass of the day.

Before it properly gets dark, Vito and Henry could go out for one last drive of the night, the sun is down but the sky is still orange - peach - pink and purple. But Vito's cold, so Henry gives him his sweater but it's also just a little big for Vito and because I'm down bad and a sucker for baggy clothing, it barely stays on both his shoulders. They could even go to a diner to get some dinner, the sky grey by now with only a little smidgen of orange across the horizon, the road mostly being coloured by neon light now and the slow turning on of the street lights.

Honestly while I'm here with the serotonin, I whole heartedly headcanon Henry to have a few freckles on his shoulders. And in game, I always notice during chapter eleven when Henry talks to Eddie I swear you can see freckles under his eyes, especially his right one. To me it always sounds cute when you say they're around their eyes too, like Henry with some freckles on his eyelids. And just to kill my fellow Henry x Vito enjoyers: Vito kissing Henry on his eyelids and nose <3.

[costellos]

❥ ┋ ❝ nanami & how he responds to flirting!

anonymous said: tease + nanami 💕

a/n: hhhh okay so this was supposed to be something quick and easy to write and... lordt. I played myself. again. enjoy flirting with Nanamin and his flirting with you back (because I have no self control!!!). also, for context, you and Nanami are not dating yet in this scenario.

tw: none.

ask game: 💌 15 valentine’s day questions (closed!)

disclaimer: I’m anime-only outside of the prequel, so apologies if my character interpretations aren’t accurate.

level 1 flirting: compliments.

he would’ve expected the bad pick up lines praise to come from Gojo, not you. but it’s not to say he’s not flattered. he is, or at least he will be, depending on your tone.

so for the sake of this imagine, let’s say you’re being serious. you compliment his tie. it’s a new one, bought from the men’s formal wear store in Ginza. you’d seen him eying it the last time you partnered together on a mission there. it’s a knit tie, navy blue and polished, paired with a grey button-down shirt. “it pulls your whole outfit together,” you say. “I like it.”

Nanami narrows his eyes. it’s an innocent enough observation. he knows not to get ahead of himself — surely you just meant it as a passing comment — though his heart does feel a little lighter. so he sighs, and while he doesn’t notice it, he subconsciously touches the accessory around his neck. you like it. he wasn’t trying to impress you but... he’ll take it. ↳ “thank you. frankly, it cost more than I was expecting, but the quality is nice.”

level 2 flirting: compliments & physical touch & acts of service.

it’s later in the day and his blazer finds itself tossed on a desk chair. his sleeves are rolled up — partly from the heat, partly because he’s so frustrated at how impossible this mission is. all of his leads are dead ends. nothing seems to be connecting.

you pop into the classroom Principal Yaga was so kind to lend him. “you look like you needed some,” you say, placing a cup of coffee in front of him. “also- totally unrelated, but you should pair your new tie with the rolled sleeves from now on. it suits you.”

then you touch the sleeve. it’s to make your point. it has to be. he’s not sure why else you would do it.

again, it’s an innocent observation. you’re just pointing out a way to improve himself. he doesn’t personally agree with it, but he appreciates your comment. and that’s all it is: a comment.

so then why does his breathing hitch when your fingertips brush against his arm? why does he have to cough to compose himself and figure out his train of throat? ↳ “...I’ll make note of it.”

level 3 flirting: explicit interest.

he brings you on this mission with him. although he finally has a decent lead, it’s becoming apparent how much more dangerous the task is turning out to be.

it has you both following a car salesman around Roppongi. the lead might be more than just some old man with a bad haircut and a worse attitude. hence, you’re watching as he walks through Tokyo’s nightlife, attention unfocused and head low. it comes to a point when he sneaks into an alley and knocks on a faded, red door. palm against the door, then with his fist twice, then palm again, and finally with his knuckles.

or at least that’s what you’re arguing.

Nanami completely disagrees. it’s palm, fist, palm, palm, knuckles, obviously.

you won’t give in. palm, fist, fist, palm, knuckles.

hm. alright. he can feel his patience thinning with every hushed protest you make against him. maybe it would’ve been better to go on this mission alone.

you’re about to make your point by going up to the door directly. although Nanami urges you to come back to him, you’re stubborn. too damn stubborn. he approaches you as you hold your palm out to the door, ready to give it a good slap and make your point. but then—

the door opens.

of course it opens.

and before either of you can think, you grab Nanami by his brand new, blue, knit tie and bring your lips to his.

admittedly, this isn’t how he wanted his first kiss with you to go. he imagined it’d be at your doorstep, romantic and typical, with your face in his hand. the temperature would be brisk enough where you’d want to come closer to him. maybe the bakery by your apartment would be wrapping up for the night, the smell of the day’s bread wafting as the owners lock the front doors.

instead, it’s hot, humid, and this alley reeks of piss.

you pull him against your figure, your back resting on the wall behind you. a quiet whimper escapes your lips, and he’s not sure if it’s because he’s kissing you so deeply — the way he’d thought of so many times before — or if you’re doing it to play the part. his hand is resting on the wall behind you, boxing in your figure from the stares of the passerbys.

Nanami is following your lead. his frame presses against you, and he can feel the softness of your body against his. it’s as soft as your lips. even with layers of clothes separating you from him, he can tell.

and jesus, is this what he’s been missing out on all this time? your lips against his, fingers tangled in his hair, another moan on your tongue? it’s intoxicating. he presses further into you.

this is... horribly unprofessional. but it helps that it’s to sell a scene.

speaking of which, it’s enough to fool the people exiting from the red door. they shake their heads, mumbling some choice words before walking away. being in Roppongi, Tokyo’s club hot spot, makes you two look like a couple of lovebirds escaping the bright lights for some much needed privacy. better that than a pair of idiots who almost had their covers blown.

they’re almost at the end of the alley when you pull away from Nanami. he’s already mentally clicking his tongue. done so soon? for as... unideal as the situation is, he wishes it had lasted just a second longer. for a brief moment, you were there. you were his.

he’s not going to let the moment slip past. oh no, it isn’t something you’re both going to conveniently forget.

so he doesn’t. he’s still boxing you in, his figure looming of yours. you’re so close. so damn close. and he tells you, in a voice that’s just above a whisper, gravelly and low: ↳ “we’re not done with this.”

like this piece? here are some similar works! 🌑 🌒 🌓

[abbysfrenchbraid]

Daring - Chapter 3

This is the last chapter for Daring! If you haven't, read part one and two first 💛 This is just a very fluffy chapter with vanilla smut at the end (with love for all of you who got whiplash from my last fic).

CW for alcohol consumption, language, talk of loss/trauma, sex and SPOILER WARNING for Guillermo del Toro's The Shape of Water. I will spoil the ending for the movie here so if you want to watch it first and haven't yet, now's the time! Honestly, it's an amazing movie and I'd love to hear your thoughts on it, so lmk if you have ~thoughts~

Chapter 3 - Home

The days until Thursday went just as excruciatingly slow as the days before your first date had. The only difference was that now you knew what to expect. Or did you? You knew she liked you, too. Wanted you, too. She had told you every night on the phone. Every day after you finished at work you waited patiently for Abby to get off her shift, too. She was on day shifts at the moment, usually from 6 am to 4 pm, but more often than not it took a few hours longer.

Abby was very kind with her patients, often taking people back home from the hospital or helping them get accommodated in their hospital rooms. It cost her a lot of time, but when she told you how grateful they all were you could hear how much she cared.

“I’m telling you Y/N, she actually cried in my arms. This poor old lady, I think she must have been over 80. She could barely raise her arms to put on the gown, the fall had stunned her pretty bad.”

You and Abby were cooking on FaceTime, or rather you were pouring yourself some cereal and Abby was making pasta with fresh tomatoes and herbs. You wished you were there.

“I hope she recovers fast,” you said, pouring in the milk. “It must be awful, being away from home in that state.”

“Yeah,” Abby sighed, “but she luckily didn’t break anything. It’s horrible though, the way elderly people bruise. She is going to have every single step of those stairs visible on her torso for at least a week.”

You took your phone and bowl, using your elbow to open the door to your room. Leah winked at you from the bathroom, toothbrush in her mouth and water dripping from her hair. She was going out with Nora and Jordan, seeing some action movie.

“You’re incredible for taking the time to help her. Did she really have no one else?”

Abby sprinkled some basil into her pasta sauce.

“I don’t think so. She was pretty confused, but she said her daughter lives in New York and she didn’t want me to call her. I’m gonna check on her tomorrow when I have a minute between calls.”

“Oh speaking of…” You leaned back against your headboard and propped up your phone against your thigh, staring into your bowl. “Are we still on tomorrow?”

Abby laughed quietly.

“Baby, I’ve been counting the hours. I can’t wait.” You felt a pull in your stomach at the name. She had never called you baby before. Looking at her, you could see she was trying to hide her nervousness. You smiled at her.

“When can I come over?”

“I hope I get off at 5 and they don’t rope me into an emergency in the last minute of my shift. I’ll just call you as soon as I head out and you can come over straight away. I’ll buy all the groceries we need tonight.”

“Hey, I can -” you protested, but Abby cut you off.

“No, you just grace me with your presence, that’s enough. You don’t know the exact ingredients anyway.”

You smiled and finished your cereal. You couldn’t wait.

-

Abby called you at 6 pm, still sitting in the passenger seat of the ambulance.

“Hey, sorry I didn’t call sooner.” Little strands of hair had fallen out of her braid and framed her face, some of them looking damp with sweat. There was a flush on her face and dark circles loomed under her eyes. You felt just a little bit guilty, having stayed up with her on facetime until after midnight the night before.

“Don’t worry, I’m not the one working extra hours. How was your shift?”

“Honestly? Terrible.” You knew Abby was not one to complain, so that really had to mean something. You saw her sway in the seat as the ambulance pulled into the garage and finally came to a halt. “I’ll tell you about it later, okay? I’ll be home in half an hour, so just come over whenever you want. I’ll leave the front door unlocked in case I’m still in the shower.”

A prickle went over your skin at the thought, but you quickly pushed it away. Abby was obviously exhausted, this was not the time to imagine her and you in a shower.

“Are you sure you really want to cook? We could just order takeout and call it a night.”

Abby considered it for a moment. It had to have been the worst day. She quickly spoke to the person next to her in the driver’s seat, then you heard the car door being shut. Abby looked back at you.

“Abby. Let me take care of you.” Your voice was soft. You wished you could brush the loose strands of hair behind her ear. The blonde sighed and unfastened her seatbelt.

“Just come over, okay? We can decide then. I just want you with me.”

You jumped up and grabbed the bag you had already prepared for sleeping over, a bottle of Merlot on top of your clothes.

“I’m on my way. I can’t wait to see you,” you said as you struggled to put on your shoes with one hand.

“See you soon,” Abby smiled and ended the call.

You called out a goodbye to Leah and she yelled back “Go get her!” Smiling to yourself, you closed the door behind you and rushed to the train station.

Sitting in the uncomfortable plastic seat of the train, you couldn’t help but grow more and more nervous, just like the last time. But this time was different, you reminded yourself. This time you could make your way straight into Abby’s arms, straight to her lips. You secretly checked your breath in your hand. The train arrived both too quickly and not fast enough.

After knocking at the front door twice without any answer, you made your way inside the house. Abby had told you to just come in, but you felt like an intruder nonetheless. Where could you wait without taking up space that wasn’t hers?  You didn’t want to be sitting there like a movie villain when she came down. You called out but there was no answer, only the bass of a rock song playing upstairs and the sound of water rushing through pipes in the wall.

Deciding to make your presence as visible as possible, you dropped your bag on the stairs and took the bottle of the wine to the kitchen. Abby’s heavy paramedic jacket was thrown over a chair and her keys were on the table. An empty glass was standing next to them, water droplets running down on the outside and leaving a wet ring on the wooden surface. You picked it up and placed it in the sink, drying the spot with a tea towel. Then you took out two wine glasses from the cupboard you had put them into after cleaning up the last time and put them on the counter. You leaned against it, wondering what you should do now.

Thankfully, you heard the water shut off upstairs and a few seconds later there was the soft thump of naked heels on tile floor. You decided just to wait until Abby came down. It only took two minutes, then you heard her on the stairs. She slowed when she reached the bottom, probably noticing your bag.

“Y/N?” Her voice was light, but there was excitement in it, carefully restrained.

“I’m in the kitchen!” You suddenly didn’t know what to do with your hands and reached for the bottle, then realized you didn’t have an opener and you probably wouldn’t be able to use one either. You let your arms drop to your side and Abby entered the kitchen, stopping a few steps from you.

She looked beautiful. She was wearing a light grey cutoff shirt and dark navy sweatpants. Her hair was still wet and hung loosely over her shoulders, darkening the cotton where it touched the fabric. Her face was still tired and her shoulders slumped slightly, but her eyes had lit up at the sight of you.

“You’re here!” She held out her hands, still not moving from her spot.

You closed the distance and threw your arms around her, burying your face in her neck.

“I’m here,” you mumbled and Abby’s arms closed around you, encasing you completely. She smelled wonderful, moisture still evaporating from her skin and warmth spreading from her body to yours where you touched. Your excitement didn’t falter, but your nervousness did. A wave of calm came over you. You were here.

“I’m sorry your day was so terrible,” you murmured, lips brushing the skin of Abby’s throat just above the neckline of her shirt. “Wanna spend the rest of it on the couch?”

Her upper body fell forward into you and her forehead came to rest on your shoulder. She nodded and you gave her waist a gentle squeeze before drawing back, resting your foreheads together and cradling her cheek with your hand.

“Come on, then. Let’s order you some food. I brought wine as well if you want some.”

Abby sighed.

“I’d love some.”

You wanted to step aside and take the glasses to the living room but Abby’s arms around you tightened and the corner of her mouth lifted.

“You’re an angel,” she whispered. And then she kissed you.

It was sweet, gentle, and tired, her lips soft and warm. You melted into her, both of you clinging to each other for a moment until Abby pulled away smiling. She took the bottle of wine and rummaged through a drawer for the opener. You held the glasses and watched her open the bottle, brows knit together and her tongue peeking out between her lips. It was both adorable and incredibly hot. You sat down on the large sofa together and Abby poured both of you a generous amount, then you clinked glasses and the blonde stole another kiss.

“Alright,” you unlocked your phone, “what are you craving?”

Abby gave you an amused look before she let her head fall back on the sofa cushion and thought for a second.

“Do you like Mexican food? Burritos?”

“Love it,” you said, searching for the closest restaurant and checking their website for delivery service. Abby just hummed in approval when she saw which one you had picked out. You placed the order together, Abby’s right hand never releasing yours as she clumsily used her left to pick her food. When the order was sent, you threw your phone to the foot of the sofa.

“So,” you said, turning to your side in order to get a better look at the blonde. “Wanna tell me about work?”

Abby sighed and opened her arm for you to crawl into. You gladly scooted closer, resting your head on her shoulder and throwing an arm over her stomach. When she spoke, you could feel the thrum of her voice in her chest.

“I went in early to check on the old lady who fell yesterday and found out she’d fallen again last night. She hadn’t told anyone because she was embarrassed, but I could tell something was wrong. Turns out her arm was broken in three places. I had them call her daughter even though she begged me not to bother her. I don’t know what her daughter is like, but I hope she takes care of her.”

You hummed and pushed yourself even closer to Abby’s side.

“After that, we had a call because of a domestic violence case. The police were there already, it was horrible.”

She rubbed a hand over her face and you pressed a kiss to her collarbone.

“After that, we had to go straight to another family dispute that ended in someone being stabbed with a steak knife. We got them to the hospital fast enough and it all went well in the end but I just hate cases that revolve around psychological trauma as well. All those family issues… I hate it.”

You could only imagine how horrible this must be for her after what had happened to her dad. Though you still didn’t know the whole story and you could probably find out easily by googling her name, you didn’t want to feel like an intruder in her past. She would tell you when she was ready.

“I’m glad you’re telling me about it,” you said, trying to sound firm and gentle at the same time.

Abby let out a little huff that sounded slightly surprised.

“Yeah, I don’t usually do that. Normally I would have just shoved all that into the back of my mind and tried to make this evening go perfect. Not that I don’t want to put in the effort with you-”

“I know,” you interrupted her, raising your head to smile at her, noses brushing against each other. “I think this is perfect. You are.”

You moved in for a kiss and Abby placed a hand on the back of your head, holding you gently as your lips touched. She deepened the kiss soon, breath going a little faster as her arms pulled you even closer. You threw your leg over her thigh, half on top of her now. Her tongue was smooth and hot against yours and when her teeth scraped over your bottom lip, you let out a whimper that she caught in another kiss. Feeling bold, you finally moved on top of Abby, straddling her thigh and placing your hands left and right of her flushed face. You rolled your hips forward and she made a guttural sound, low and hungry.

Her hands were all over you, pressing between your shoulder blades, wrapping around your waist, grabbing your hips to make you grind forward again, then finally cupping your ass and digging her fingers into the muscle. You stopped trying to keep yourself from panting and leaned forward to kiss Abby’s jaw, then the soft spot beneath her earlobe. She drew up her leg behind you, pressing her thigh between your legs, and you whimpered into her ear.

“Abby,” you whispered, “what are you doing to me?”

“Anything you want,” she murmured against your cheek, “anything, baby.”

You could hear your pulse drumming in your ears as you kissed the blonde fiercely, then moved your lips over that chiseled jaw again before biting the delicate skin of her throat. You dragged your tongue over her pulse point, actually feeling the beat of her heart fluttering against your sensitive nerve endings. She smelled intoxicating, warm, and earthy, and it made you want to take her in completely, to drown in her and never come to the surface again.

Her hands were on your hips again, guiding them against hers as she let out another low moan, lips parted and pupils blown as she looked at you with a mixture of amazement and pure, burning desire. You let your hands wander down her torso, trailing your fingers along the hem of her shirt and slipping them underneath. Abby’s skin was radiating heat, her stomach flexing beneath your touch.

“May I?” You asked, your voice breathless. Abby just nodded, lifting her arms over her head and arching her back so you could push the fabric up, revealing her broad frame, toned abs, and a black sports bra. You threw the shirt to the side and fell back onto her, your chests pressing together as you enveloped her in another heated kiss. You ground down against her thigh, the seam of your jeans pressing against all the right places. Abby’s hands were on your back again, broad and warm and reassuring.

You stayed like that for a while, melting into each other, catching the other’s breath, and trying to move in ways that would get the other to moan even though you were both still shy and careful about making noise. Abby twisted her pelvis ever so slightly so you could keep riding her thigh and hit her hipbone at the front of every movement. You responded by pulling her damp hair and making her hiss before she pulled you in and kissed you fiercely.

“God, Abby…” Heat was pooling at the bottom of your stomach and there was a sudden, almost painful sensitivity to your core. Pleasure had sneaked up on you without you noticing, completely surprising you with its intensity as Abby rolled her hips upward and you had no choice but to cry out. There was a hunger in her eyes, a triumphant glint and she held your face gently with one hand while the other was tight around your hip, guiding your movements against her and pressing into your flesh.

“Fuck, Abby, fuck, I’m so -” She swallowed your whimpers with another searing kiss, her tongue pressing into your mouth and her thumb stroking your cheek.

“Come on, baby, you’re so good, so beautiful, baby,” Abby mumbled against your lips, followed by more sweet compliments and hot kisses, her eyes always on yours. You found the perfect angle at last and dug your fingers into her shoulder, your moans going high and fast as you pressed your forehead to hers. She placed a last gentle kiss on your lips and you came undone on top of her. Her hands caught you easily, stroking you through your high, her lips caressing every inch of your face. Her skin was warm beneath you and slightly sweaty. You licked a small stripe up the side of her throat and kissed her jaw.

Abby pulled back just an inch to get a better look at your face, running her hands through your hair and over your cheeks, then down your shoulders and coming to rest around your waist.

“You are the most beautiful person I’ve ever known,” she said quietly and with a blissful smile. “An angel.”

Her gaze was so piercing, so raw and knowing that you suddenly had the urge to bury your face in your hands, to hide from this infinite feeling inside of you that you could see in Abby’s eyes as well. You forced yourself to hold her gaze and reached out to brush a strand of hair from her face.

“I’ve never… this has never happened to me before,” you confessed softly. “You are doing things to me I never even dreamed of.”

Abby chuckled at that and caught your hand, kissing every knuckle and then the inside of your palm.

“We fit well, don’t we?” It was cautious, a step forward with no weight on it yet, a hand on a door handle.

“We do.” You grinned at her, and maybe it was the rush of the high that still hadn’t faded or a rare wave of courage, but you decided to rip open that door from the other side. You sat up and placed a hand on her sternum, feeling her heart thrum beneath your palm.

“Abby, I want to be with you. I’ve wanted to for a long time. You don’t have to have an answer right now, but just know that I’m already yours, no matter what.”

For a moment, Abby didn’t seem to fully comprehend. Then she frowned, the smile not fully leaving her lips but turning bittersweet. You felt your stomach drop. Had you spoken too soon?

“Y/N.” Abby’s hand covered yours on her chest. “I’d love nothing more.” A weight fell off your shoulders. Abby wasn’t done talking yet.

“I’m a difficult person to… be with. I’ve really put in all I had with you so far, but there are times when I will be cold and closed off and I won’t be able to let you in, to let anyone in. I don’t know if I could hurt you like that.” She squeezed your hand now, her eyes glossy. “I’m not saying this because I’m scared or unsure, I’m saying this to give you an out. Or at least some more time to really get to know what it’s like with me in your life. I can be exhausting. At least that’s what I’m told.”

You felt something hot flare up in your throat. That was not fair.

“Who told you that?”

“Owen. I mean, he’s the only person who knows what it’s like being with me and he certainly didn’t like it very much.” Even with her broad shoulders, her set jaw, all her muscles, she looked strangely small now. You felt like you were going to burst with rage.

“Abby, do you honestly think an ex’s opinion of you counts? To me? I don’t give a shit what Owen thinks because I’m not him and this is not the same thing. I get to decide what it’s like and so far it’s the best thing that ever happened to me.” You placed both your hands on her cheeks and leaned forward. “Babe, stop trying to deny yourself happiness. You deserve to be happy. And if I make you happy, if you’ll have me, I’m yours.”

Abby sat up straight, her face now directly in front of yours, and wrapped her arms around you tightly. She blinked the tears away, a smile beginning to tug on her lips.

“You’re mine?”

“Only yours.”

She kissed you and you could feel her grin against your mouth, smooth teeth softly clicking against yours.

“Mine,” she mumbled and began trailing kisses down your throat, hands now wandering down your back and under your t-shirt where they immediately provoked goosebumps to spread over your entire body. Suddenly, the doorbell rang. Both of you pulled back with surprised faces.

“The food!” you realized and you had to laugh as you scrambled to get up from the couch. You had almost forgotten how hungry you were. Abby quickly pulled on her shirt, grabbed her wallet, and opened the door, hair wild and her lips still red and swollen. You hovered in the background, probably looking just as disheveled, and tried not to giggle like an idiot.

The delivery guy took one look at you and just gave Abby an amused smirk as he handed her the food. She tipped him generously and thanked him before closing the door and turning to you, both of you frozen in your spots for a second. Then you both burst out in laughter. Abby was next to you in three strides and pressed a kiss to the top of your head before you let yourself flop down on the sofa together. Abby had ordered two large burritos, you had chosen a vegetarian taco bowl and a big bag of tortilla chips with salsa and guacamole. While you unpacked all the food and laid it out on the coffee table, Abby turned on the TV and scrolled through the movie options.

After some looking around, you decided to watch The Shape of Water, which you hadn’t seen yet despite being a big Guillermo del Toro fan. You ate in silence, letting the film pull you into a cold war era story of a mute woman, her gay best friend, and a strange fish-human being in the facility she was a cleaner at. You generally avoided watching more artistic, less Hollywood-typical movies with other people in fear of them constantly ridiculing the story to hide their own discomfort with monsters, but Abby was just as immersed in the story as you were. Sally Hawkins was a fantastic actress and the amphibian man was beautifully designed and a fascinating character. Del Toro’s handwriting was all over the film - beautiful colors and cinematography, fairytale monsters next to very human, real-life ones, the fear of the Other and the idea that maybe if one just dares to look beyond, the Other may have a story to tell and love to give.

When you had finished your food, you snuggled up to Abby, occasionally feeding her chips with guacamole and kissing the salt from her lips. During the final scenes when the shooting happened, Abby tensed up next to you. You hadn’t even thought about movies possibly triggering her or making her uncomfortable. Fuck, you should have looked it up beforehand. Now all you could do was press your temple to her collarbone and wrap your arms around her as tightly as possible.

“Do you want to turn it off?” You mumbled, your thumb drawing circles on her ribcage. You could feel Abby shake her head.

“It’s okay, I’m used to it by now. The movie is almost over anyway.” She pressed a kiss to your forehead and pulled you close. The ending was beautiful and heart-wrenching and you shed a few tears, staining Abby’s shirt. She just smiled and kissed the tears from your cheeks.

“Did you like it?” You asked tentatively, not sure if the shooting may have ruined it for Abby.

“I loved it.” Her expression was warm. “That scene in which she talks about the way he sees her without any of her flaws, just her, and how her fight for his life is what makes her human was beautiful.”

“And then in the end she wasn’t human after all,” you added, “I’ve never really seen it that way around. Usually, the beast turns into a prince at the end. I always hate that. Why can’t the monster stay a monster after having proven their love and their honor and whatever else is needed to redeem them, you know?”

Abby thought about that for a moment, her eyes going unfocused.

“That’s true. In so many stories, all the things that make the monster monstrous are stripped away as soon as they have proven their worth and found true love. It doesn’t work like that in real life. We all have things inside that could deem us monsters and it’s only when we hope to have found love that we can dare to reveal them and hope the other person loves us anyway.”

Something warm spread inside you, reaching out to every corner of your body, every toe and every fingertip. You leaned in and kissed her gently.

“The silver plate.”

Abby looked confused for a second, then she remembered the things she had said during your last date.

“Yeah, my own monstrous silver plate.” She smiled. “Scared?”

“Not at all,” you grinned and climbed on top of her. “I’ll devour you.”

You pressed your lips to hers her and it quickly turned into another heated makeout session. Your limbs were tangled together and her hands roamed your body as you kissed her neck and when she finally asked: “can I?” you almost knocked your head against her jaw trying to sit up so she could take off your shirt.

Sitting up on her hips, you dragged your nail from her ear to the hem of her shirt, scratching the skin and making her hiss, eyes burning.

“Want to show me your bedroom?” you asked, trying not to lose your focus at the feeling of her hands wandering up your thighs. You yelped as Abby sat and stood up in one swift motion, arms secure around your waist and thighs so you’d stay pressed to her chest. You wrapped your legs around her and laughed into her mouth before she kissed you again.

The tall blonde carried you up the stairs like it was nothing, making soft noises when you bit into the soft skin just below her jaw.

“Y/N…” She kicked open a door and didn’t give you any time to look around, crawling on the bed and trapping you under her large body, attacking you with kisses, all teeth and tongue. It was glorious.

You pulled on Abby’s shirt until she grunted and took it off herself, then her hands were trailing the skin above the waistband of your jeans. More, more, more.

“Can I take those off?” Abby asked, sitting back on her knees between your legs.

“Please,” you whimpered, lifting your hips for better access, but Abby had other plans. She let her hands wander over your upper body, her fingers teasing your nipples over the thin fabric of your bralette, then softly tickling your stomach on their way down. Finally, she opened the button of your jeans and slowly opened the zipper, her eyes flickering up to your face and back down to her hands.

“Come ooon,” you begged, “please, Abby.”

There was the hint of a smirk on her lips, but she complied and pulled off your jeans, both of you laughing as they caught around your ankles and Abby had to wrestle them off. Then Abby’s hand was on your foot and she held it in place on her shoulder, slowly kissing her way up your leg. Your breath got faster with every inch she came closer to your heated center, that place that had gotten a taste of what was to come and wanted more. She dragged her lips over your clothed core and your legs trembled, a gasp escaping you.

Abby took her time with you, kissing your stomach and chest before taking off your bralette and teasing your nipples with a gentle tongue and fluttering fingers. You were squirming beneath her, a mess of pleasure and want for more, begging her to touch you. Finally, she sat back up and hooked her fingers under the waistband of your panties, keeping eye contact and pulling them down slowly. Her gaze was burning, pupils wide, lips hanging open and breath going in shallow pants.

Her tongue was heaven, it was heat and silk and everything at once, enveloping you in waves of ecstasy and making you moan and bury your hands in her hair. She was gentle, cleaning up the mess you had made earlier and the one just now, broad tongue and small circles sending your hips up to meet her, her fingers around your thighs too far away.

“Abby, please…” you gasped and she looked up to meet your gaze. You melted inside.

“What do you want, baby?” Her voice was deep and husked, lips shining with your juices.

“Your fingers.” You gave her hand a light push downward and with a smile, she complied.

If you had thought you had already reached the pinnacle of pleasure, the best there was, you had been oh so wrong. Abby’s fingers were magical, teasing you and filling you up, stroking against that tender spot inside you, then slowing down as her tongue made you see stars, complying when you begged her for more, faster, harder. Your legs hadn’t stopped shaking in what felt like forever, your fingers were cramped into Abby’s beautiful blonde mane and you were crying out her name over and over again as she brought you to your peak, guiding you through it and moaning along with you as your juices covered her fingers and her tongue.

When she finally crawled back up to meet you, her arms were shaking slightly and her face was flushed. You still felt like you were somewhere far away, but her smile pulled you back to the present. She kissed you, letting you taste yourself on her tongue. Slowly, you let your hand wander down and play with the seam of her sweatpants and the hem of her boxers peeking out underneath.

“Wanna take these off?” you mumbled in her ear and you could see she was trying to keep her composure as she tried to get out of her pants as fast as possible before coming back to you. She stopped and looked unsure suddenly.

“Is it okay if I keep these on for now?” She gestured to her sports bra and underwear.

“Of course, baby. Can I touch you?” You whispered, one hand on the back of her neck as the other wandered lower. Abby nodded and kissed you again.

“Yes, please,” she whispered back. You slid your hand into her boxers and were greeted by wet heat, desire practically pooling in your palm. Both of you gasped at the same time, eyes flying open to meet each other’s, bodies grinding together.

“Fuck baby, you’re so wet,” you cooed and watched Abby dissolve in front of you, blood shooting into her cheeks before she buried her face in your neck and began leaving lovebites on your throat. You dragged your fingers between her folds, relishing in the tiny noises she made whenever you touched her clit or came near her entrance.

You put all your strength into throwing Abby to the side and rolling on top of her, hand never leaving her center. She laughed in surprise and grabbed the back of your neck to pull you in, and at that moment you slid a finger inside her. Her eyes went wide and the noise she made would visit your dreams for the rest of your days. You kept your lips wandering over her throat and back to her lips, pulling moan after moan from her with your fingers, gently pushing inside her and curling upward, your thumb drawing circles on her clit. After a while, you could see her abs flexing as her core convulsed rhythmically, her moans getting higher and breathless, her fingers digging into your waist.

“Will you come for me, Abby?” you whispered and kissed her again. Her hips bucked up into your hand and she made a strangled noise, then her legs clamped together around your fingers and she sighed, tongue darting out to brush against yours as you slowly pulled your hand from her sensitive core.

You threw your thigh over her hips and pressed your face into the crook of her neck, giving her time to breathe as you drew patterns on her bare stomach with your fingers.

“Baby…” she mumbled above you, voice vibrating through her chest. “That was… I don’t even have words.”

You grinned up at her and she brushed your hair behind your ear. Her gaze was full of love and adoration, like sunlight warming your skin, soft fingertips caressing your cheeks.

“I’ve never felt so safe,” you said, resting your head on her shoulder so you could look at her. “You’re so careful.”

Abby smiled and followed the path of your fingers with her eyes.

“I’ve had other experiences in the past that made me realize how important it is to always check on your partner.” She looked down at her clothed hips. “Thank you for… not making this weird. I’m just… one step at a time.”

“Of course, baby.” You moved your lips closer to her ear. “I think it’s really fucking hot, you between my legs in those boxers, all muscles and freckles. But then when I touch you, you’re so needy, just a wet mess, coming on my fingers in your underwear.”

Abby let out a shaky breath, chest trembling at your words. She laced her fingers between yours and pressed them to her sternum.

“You leave me speechless every time,” she said, voice quiet and content.

“I love it.” You pulled the blanket up with your foot and covered both of your bodies up to your hips, yawning into her shoulder. Abby chuckled quietly.

“Do you need to set an alarm for tomorrow?” She reached over to the bedside table, then let her arm drop. “Our phones are still downstairs.”

You groaned and rolled onto your back before blinking up at Abby innocently, hoping she would go and get them. She just laughed and got up, stretching her arms and making the muscles on her back dance beautifully.

“You need to go pee,” she said with raised eyebrows. You sighed and lazily rolled out of bed, pulling the blanket up around you.

Abby showed you the bathroom across the hall and made her way down the stairs, a bounce in her step. You could hear her clean up the takeout containers and throw away the trash in the kitchen. Suddenly there was a noise outside, a deep voice and the jingle of keys at the door. You froze with the towel in your hands. The front door opened and Manny tried to stay quiet in that completely ineffective way most men do, dropping his shoes with loud thumps and whispering into his phone so loudly you could hear every word.

“Hi, Manny,” Abby said in the hallway. Keys dropped to the floor with a clunk.

“Dios mio! What the hell are you doing sneaking around here, Abby? You just get back from the gym?” You could hear her laugh quietly as he tried to catch his breath.

“I could ask you the same. Weren’t you supposed to come back tomorrow?”

You snuck back into her bedroom on tiptoes, wrapping the blanket around you tightly and staying near the door to hear the conversation downstairs.

“Had to go early, my dad had a hot date tonight.” You could actually hear his grin.

“Yeah, well, me too.” Abby’s voice was dry, but you could tell she wasn’t actually annoyed.

“Really? Y/N? How'd it go?” A pause, then another loud whisper - “holy shit, she still here?

“Y/N, Manny’s home!” Abby’s raised voice rang through the house. You grinned. She knew you were listening.

“Hi, Manny!” You looked around for any clothes you could throw on quickly but came up empty. Sighing, you checked your blanket placement and went to the top of the stairs, looking down at Manny and Abby in the entrance hall.

Abby was still just in her sports bra and boxer shorts but didn’t seem to mind at all. Manny wore sweatpants and a green sweater, along with a hat that said women want me, fish fear me. Behind him were two large bags, one of them clearly full of fishing equipment. His smile lit the room.

“Hi Y/N, nice seeing you here. You two have a good night?”

You nodded and he made a knowing ah-ha sound. Abby elbowed him and red spots formed on her neck.

“Well, I’m gonna eat something and pass out. Breakfast tomorrow?” He threw a hopeful look in Abby’s direction. “When does your shift start?”

“Noon, I get late shift for the next two weeks. Y/N, what about you?” Both of them looked up at you and you shifted your weight, very aware of the way you looked right now.

“I just need to study, I can sleep in for once.”

Abby nodded and patted Manny’s shoulder.

“Breakfast at 10.”

She came up the stairs, taking two steps at a time and grinning from ear to ear. Manny vanished into the kitchen, continuing to scream-whisper into his phone. You made out the words “finally… girl is here” before Abby simply picked you up and carried you back to bed, kicking the door closed behind her.

You snuggled up together and Abby stroked your hair while she told you about her friendship with Manny and how glad she was to have him. He had been there for her through everything and he had wanted her to make a move and ask you out for weeks. You felt yourself drift away slowly.

“I’m so glad I’m here,” you mumbled, hand stroking Abby’s chest.

“Me too, baby. I still can’t believe I get to call you mine.” The bliss in her voice was the same you felt in your heart.

“Finally.” You craned your neck for a last kiss and melted beneath Abby’s soft lips and warm hands.

She held you wrapped tightly in her arms, almost as if she was scared you could vanish in the night. As if you'd ever leave her now. The last thing you thought before falling asleep was that you were finally home.

-

Author's note: Have you seen The Shape of Water? Did you like it? Let me know here 💌 If you'd like to support me, you can buy me a coffee here 🤎

[thekitschdiet]

my take on the literary masterpiece, the chic diet

Firstly, I am no one. It’s part of my charm. My fifteen minutes of fame was years ago, when I had an instagram niche meme page. I didn’t even take any brand deals! And my posts averaged six thousand likes! Anyhow. I am hardly literate and well hydrated and carry a small sephora-CVS-hybrid worth in my mini tote bag. Here is my guide on how to live like me, the intermediate kitsch-rat, aspiring influencer. But like, in an apathetic, somewhat dissonant, ironic way. I like saying I live by dogmatic principles. But a lot of it, um, is just eating disorder rituals. But that’s not really important. You’re as hot as you say you are, and as much an authority on what you write so long as you say it with, you know, conviction. It’s kind of venerable how fucking delusional I am, actually. Giving any sort of advice like I’m anywhere close to the ritzy ideal of the amphetamine-areyouami label-american. New York, ideally. West Village, preferably. But I guess the kind of guide I can write is better suited to someone living in a suburb, in a house with the twelve-paned windows. I always thought those were so chic. SO quaint, in a somewhat luxe way. Like, Connecticut vibes. My parents used to drive me up there as a child to buy books and ice cream. Nowadays I’d opt for a matcha latte with novelty ice cubes, but I guess at the time it was pretty sweet. 

Because I popped a Vyvanse at like, 10pm, this next little bit could go one of two ways. I will write the most articulate, brilliant piece of literature of my life. Magnum opus, if there was a skinnier word for it. Or, I will get wrapped up doing something like folding all my last-season knits (which is part of my look, okay! I don’t have a job!) and fixating on a paragraph on how a girl’s collarbones are almost as identifying as a fingerprint, or a signature. I’m not a graphologist, but if you write your A’s with the little tail on top (like on a computer), you’re probably a snake. Nothing personal, just an observation. Also, I do have a biology final to study for. Not that I’m super anal, or even particularly committed to academia, but even in my precariously manicured (read that as separate terms; I did a good job on my nail polish, okay? But I happen to also be teetering on the brink of an epiphany or a collapse. Hence the use of the word precarious.) state, I know it’s important enough I can let one of my countless side-quests sit idle for a couple more days. 

The first section seems only natural to be about hydration. And the whole idea of drinking things, really. There was a section in The Chic Diet about Adderall dry-mouth, which deeply resonated with me. Once I bit off a chunk of a Nivea Strawberry Shine (my favorite lip balm, more on that later) and swished it around my mouth. Didn’t help. Really, really didn’t. Anyway, I suppose that even if it served no purpose for combatting my prevacatingly ingenious cottonmouth solution, I was able to milk a sentence or two out of the experience. “Do it for the Vine”, all grown up! And wearing bananapapaya resin hoops too. Side note, that Etsy shop is a parasocial enemy of mine. It stems from jealousy, which sucks, but hating from inside a club I’m adjacent to is much healthier than being a hateful individual towards people I would, you know, interact with. Daily. Or something. I stopped going to therapy because I felt stupid about going and I don’t live in the right kind of town to warrant vacuous $300 hours. Bitching about my well-adjusted parents and how desperately I wished my anxiety would just “go away” was plainly gross, and a waste. Like, pretty sure almost every problem I have could be solved by a couple painful conversations taking place during a hurricane. Such a shame it doesn’t rain much here. Anyhow, I digress. 

Staying hydrated. It is essential to my character, my persona, if you will; to never be without either an elegant metal bottle (I’m loyal to the smooth enamelled S’well ones, printed to look like marble or a semi holographic solid) or a little 16oz tumbler with a metal straw. Hydroflasks were some of the worst things to happen to society. I want to preface this claim with the fact that I wanted one in the same way a teenage girl wants a new iPhone so she can keep up appearances with her dermatologist-dad friends who still have the XR, by the way. But I ended up spending the money on like, a minidress at Brandy Melville before it fled my city. Or maybe a Fresh Sugar tinted lipbalm. For the better, even though the dress has a busted zipper now and the lipbalm tube has inevitably gotten dinged and dented by the other contents of my mini-totebag. Unlike a car, though, a couple scuffs on your laptop or your luxury lipbalm tube looks kind of cool. Like, you’re not someone who values the pristine, unused quality of an item that was ambiguously intended to be used versus displayed on Instagram.  Now, I’m wondering why this paragraph about hydration is so fucking impossible to stay on track for. I literally drink several litres of water a day, and more tea on top of that. And sometimes an almond milk latte if I can budget it in. Not that I’m so anorexic I can’t afford a 45cal latte. They’re just not that important to me. Anyhow. Drinking lukewarm (on the cool side) water is better than ice-cold. Partially because I just get it out of the tap of my ensuite and I can’t be bothered to wait for it to run cold enough every time, and it just seems wasteful. Plus, there is something so.. skinny about drinking water at an “obscure” temperature. Trust me, I want to know why my thought process is like this too. My favorite tea is blueberry tea foraged in a side aisle at my local supermarket. I love a good commercial, high-end steep or fruit infusion as much as the next girl. Maybe more. My pantry is filled with tins labelled with things like “emerald jade organic” and “magic potion”, which is really just currants and butterfly pea flowers. But there is a necessary glamor about drinking dirt-cheap tea on the daily. Seriously, a box of 25 sachets is like, $3. At a higher point with my, um, Adderall problem, I spent like several times that on pills. I didn’t really need to include that, and could have linked the price point to the cost of a drugstore lipbalm, but I wrote it in. And I’m married to it, stubbornly, as all amateur writers should be when they wittle in a somewhat indecorous little joke. This tea is sooo good because it has a strong fruit-reminiscent taste (not as sweet as a fresh blueberry, but who wants that anyway?), it’s zero-calorie, it’s the most GORGEOUS color ever. The latte, the third drink in my little trifecta, is nothing special. But necessary. The trick is to use a milk frother to whip up sugar free syrup with instant coffee and a little bit of hot water in a glass. It’ll make the most luscious foam.. Top it off with almond milk. My dad is a coffee purist, owning both an upstairs keurig AND a downstairs one (among other more analogue methods, but I can’t name-drop, so what’s the point?), so he hates this drink. Now, calling oneself a plebian is so unglamorous and teetering on self-deprecating territory, dangerously close to insecurity. But I can use it here because I am at least posh enough to have a different pair of earrings for every outfit I could possibly come up with, and I only wear Patagonia if I am in a situation where I just have to wear fleece. Like I was saying. It’s such a simple drink, certainly not a delicacy, and… I had a joke about the word plebian but I keep getting up to refill my water and I fear I have forgotten about it. 

Next section; the importance of a good tinted balm

In the intro I alluded to how a girl’s collarbones function essentially as an identifier, the way a signature or fingerprint does. This is a lie, or at least an exaggeration. But one’s ultimate tinted lipbalm is  actually extremely indicative about who you are, as a person, as a member of society, even… 

If you are loyal to Dior Lipglow, I have a couple questions. One; did you shoplift one tube, once, and refill it with cheaper stuff afterwards? I did that. I consider it one of my better-kept secrets, but now you know. Might as well explain the catalyst for my parent’s first separation now, and the horrifying experience that was meeting my dad’s Manhattan sugar baby (?) at the age of thirteen, wearing an overalls dress from, like, Topshop or something else equally embarrassing. .. Kidding. I digress. It’s such a fancy lipbalm, and good too! It smells like thin mints! But I could just never justify cell phone monthly installation payment money on something I will inevitably talk off. I do own three, but two I stole (before I lost the nerve, somewhat unfortunately) and one, a boy(not)friend bought for me. This is not something I feel any remorse about, because his house was easily four thousand square feet and his sisters had a dedicated all-glass room for their shared peloton. Oil money. Ugh!

My personal favorite lip balm, and I have tried a frightening amount, has got to be the Nivea Fruit Shine collection. The frosted one is shit-ugly. Hideous. But the strawberry one is the love of my life. It’s such a pleasant red, looking healthy and rejuvenated and really completes any look. Only downside is it will always, hopefully not always, remind me of Charles. Kissing Charles, specifically. And him asking me what lipbalm it was, because he knew I was somewhat frivolous and definitive and would have a very long answer. But for whatever reason, I simply stated it was from “out of town”. Not really sure why I said that, but it plagues me (minorly) to this day. Of all the things to make up.. .. The peach one is a perfectly demure spring classic shade. Cherry exists too, but the only tube I have ever had the fortune of owning was purchased in Costa Rica and lost somewhere on the way home. Honestly tragic, it was the juiciest shade. Blackberry is perfect too, but I have to layer it with either peach or untinted lipbalm to avoid what I imagine TooPoor would choose if she believed in tinted lipbalm. I don’t mean this hatefully, I think she’s a queen, but super dark, smudgy makeup suits the eyes better in my opinion. Or something. Or something.

Afraid to bore the reader, I have to move on now. Maybe at a later date I will release an addendum on my ultimate lipbalm buying guide. But also, that is so deeply personal (and everyone needs the excuse of “hunting for the perfect staple shade!!”), so it is really not my place to have any authority on something so intimate and subjective. Etcetera. 

Moving on; Decorating your room

Here is a section I lifted out of my memoir document. It fits, because as enigmatic as I hope I am, I am also quite unchanging.

 I just pushed three hangers and two tiny strappy tops with the tags still on, off my bed. Most nights, all, these days, actually; I spend in my large but cluttered bedroom. I have a little ensuite with a jetted tub I’ve never used because I just never get around to it. There’s a plush grey rug, spanning the expanse of the room (covering an ugly cherry wood that doesn’t match the rest of the house; no clue why. I never asked, and the previous owners were eager to sell so they could finally ditch this town and retire in Montreal for the bagels, or Hawaii for the monk seals. Point is, I’ll never know) with loose beads and loose pills and little shards of glass from plier-crushed beads. I vacuum every day. The whole room tells you exactly the kind of person I am; the clutter I possess, the encapsulation of the projects I start, start, start and the hours I don’t sleep for and the clothes I tried on (these to sell, these to cut up with kitchen scissors; thrifted lululemon and aritzia and heaps of knits and plaid fabric..) I would not say the room is a mess. Lived in, maybe. Chopsticks and mugs and gum wrappers. Single dangle earrings. I just finished the last of my Creme Brulee eos lipbalm; disguised as a relic of 2015, I was gifted it Christmas of ‘20. I think my next waxy conquest will be a tinted Burt’s one I palmed a while back, before I lost the nerve. Peering around the room you will see shopping bags strewn about the mouth of my walk-in closet. Every surface has something shiny or colorful stacked up on it. Cluttered, busy, but intentional. Except for the walls, which are bare. Bare and gray and miles-tall when I lie flat on my back, high out of my mind, willing things to change but knowing I’m responsible for a first step I will always be too scared for. Bare, pristine, no gumtack. Empty, Like they’re waiting. I wait around a lot. It makes sense. That was an awful lot of words about my stupid blank walls when truly it does not bother me that much; I really just don’t get around to it. I have other things on the ground to tend to, like post-email nausea, addressing envelopes, marrying wire and bead.  Writing a document I care about because I am determined and I am alive, alive, alive, goddammit. 

Excerpt over. The memoir is coming out when I get famous, or something earth shattering happens. Like I become the world’s least remarkable entrepreneur, and I get retweeted by Colorpop. I don’t want to be the next Elizabeth Wurtzel. I read two of her memoirs one restless night, absorbing it to make up for the nutrients I didn’t that day (you can laugh. I think that is pretty clever), heart breaking a little bit. She writes about her struggles so intrinsically, you either get it, or you don’t. Anyway. She had the books and the fame from it, and she wrote more memoirs than I think a single person should. That is admirable. Aspirational, even. But I do not want to be like her. Where was I? Oh. Yes. Decorating/adorning/filling your room. Your room should serve as the kind of place to watch a movie (if you believe in film. I don’t) and put on ridiculous glittery eye makeup, or smoke an ~artistic cigarette~ or stay up all night on the phone, which is different from staying up all night simply on your phone. Chatting with someone you are tepidly in love with is much more exciting. Not chic as the whole affair is so juvenile, but fun regardless. It’s somewhere to keep your worldly possessions, too. I know I have a lot! Also, it is kind of thrilling to hide things in your room in little crevices only you know about. Now, unfortunately, everyone reading this will know too. But, like, I trust you not to really.. do anything about it. I keep my extra juul pods in the sliding box my apple pencil came in. That box is almost more useful than the pencil itself. I’m somewhat morally opposed to the iPad. Whole culture is so embarrassing! I have a tea tin with an ounce of golden teacher shrums in it. This is tossed in my closet among tins filled with other things, like lace trim and buttons. Which makes it actually a pretty terrible hiding spot, I see now… Anyhow. Keeping benign little secrets like that is so fun. You can tell I don’t have siblings. I sort of wish I did, but it is easier to believe there is something aristocratic about being an only child. Not sure if older-sister me would be egalitarian enough to share things. But that’s prophesying, which is kind of a waste of time. I live in the now, in a room positively cluttered with meaningless things that mean the world to me, chewing on my lip because my mouth is just so dry and 5gum is just not an after-8 indulgence. To live truly kitschly, you have to have somewhat hideous decor. Now, do not confuse dissonant, or incoherent, with what I mean by “hideous decor”. The kitsch room has as many surfaces to look at as possible, while also shying away from too many shelving units. Then you risk your room looking like a storage unit or something. When my mom renovated (re: paid someone to do it) our New York house so we could sell it, all our stuff was stacked up in a Cubesmart self storage. It was sort of horrifying, seeing my childhood home reduced to plastic storage tubs piled what felt like thirty feet high. Anyway. It’s just not an  inviting way to store things; I imagine it makes your room look like your stuff is all trapped in gelatin. The more fussy, tiny things you have out in the open, the better. Nail polish. Earring trees. Bowls full of rings and lighters and water color pans perched on your windowsill. A rack with the tackiest assortment of knits and bucket hats and baguette bags. And so forth.. Quickly surveying someone’s room is so telling. Bonus points if all your books are spine-in, except for your favorite ones, because you don’t want people to get the wrong idea. (that you read). 

[pbandjesse]

I wish I did more today. But even though I slept a lot and felt good when I woke up I would slowly feel dizzy throughout the day. Hate that.

But it was a good day still. I slept really well. I had gotten very upset last night and my shoulder hurt a lot. But I was in a better mood today. James had already left for work. But I got up and made the bed. I took a shower and felt alright.

I really loved our my shirt looked but it was not very comfortable to wear. The torso has no give to the fabric and is not comfy. The sleeves are so cute and I even picked up the neckline to make it more flattering. But the torso just doesn't feel great when you sit down. At least I look cute.

I decided I would go out. I did a few little things around the apartment. Did two lines of knitting. But I decided I just wanted to go for a drive.

I was committed to getting chipotle today. I decided to go out to Towson so I could walks round the five below and get lunch. Before I did that I stopped at the goodwill. That one isn't great but it was fun to walk around.

And then when I got to the shopping center there was an off brand Halloween store. And I had fun looking around. Their prices were way better then spirit.

I got candy and these bead rings at five below. And then after I dropped off my purchases at the car and got my drink I had brought with me, I walked over to chipotle and had an excellent lunch.

I listened to my podcast and had my food and people watched. I had half of my bowl and a few chips. And then I was off again.

I went to the savers I normally go to. And I mostly was there to look at stuff. I was specifically looking for a skilly shelf and I found one! $5! So the studio closet can be so much more organized. I also got a new little purse. And I am so excited about it. It's such a good shape. And it's all leather. $7.

I was a little overheated and uncomfy when I left there. I really really wanted to go home.

The drive home wasn't horrible. I was just to hot. And there was a bunch of broken wood in the road and people were driving really slow going around it. But I got home and things felt a little better.

I got changed pretty much right away. I had walked over to mail my application for another street fair. And put away my leftovers and took the tags off of everything else. Sweetp was very cuddly. And I was not feeling my best.

But I wanted to get something done. I grabbed some big sheets of paper. Yes it was tracing paper because that was the first thing I grabbed. But I started writing out a larger to do list and lists of what we need to bring for the wedding and stuff. It's not perfect but it's a start.

James ordered our wedding cake today. And that just felt so special. We are getting my favorite cake from my favorite bakery and they are letting us bring Oreos to replace the decorative chocolate chips (because those hurt my teeth, and Oreo cake is special to me and James). That was good to get that off the list.

I would do some more knitting. And the decided I would finally start sewing in all my edges and it looks so much better. I only got the first 3 months done but it looks great and I can't wait to see the whole thing sewn in. I shouldn't have waited and instead done a little every month but that's okay. I'm still thrilled.

James got home and we looked at the to do list. And made some plans.

I had some toast for dinner. James fixed their bike. I kept sewing. And eventually I decided we should clean out the studio closet.

James helped take everything out so I could get the new shelf in there and that really helped make everything look so much better and now things are actually accessible. It's not perfect. And I think I'll mess with the top shelf more so I can get stuff like our kayak up there. But I'm really pleased.

After we cleaned up I did some fixing of one of my bags. And folded all my costumes to store in the bedroom closet where I have made space. And then I got in bed to watch videos. James joined me and it has been a relaxing night.

I am really tired now though. I am going to go take a quick shower and get some rest. Tomorrow I have some work to do on lessons and proposals and maybe I'll do some art. Well see. I hope you all have a good night. Take care of each other!! Love you!

[lihikainanea]

so it's summer and it's great but the heat is absolutely unforgiving. what if Tiger gets like, a reaction from the excessive sweat that this season brings and there's like a rash-like discoloration on the sides of her body, her back? I get these every summer and, it's hard to look at myself in the mirror when I put the cream on so they go away. I'm thinking Bill would help, but after Tiger lets him since she's a lil embarrassed and shy about them.

Ohhh bubs, I feel you. I have SUCH sensitive skin that I swear, I cry and then I have to spend like a week treating the eczema outbreak on my face that my own goddamn tears cause.

The heat and all that comes along with it can have some icky side effects and my girl tiger ain't spared. Heat rash? yep. Mild sun allergy that causes a rash? Yep. Hives because she's basically allergic to everything outside? Yep. Eczema outbreak because all the rashes are stressing her out? Yep.

Are we even going to talk about underboob and thigh chafe? Shit, yes we are because this is some real life BULLSHIT that most of us have to deal with.

And what if it's exactly that. Hear me out. She's been purposely avoiding getting nekkid with Bill for a few days--She's got this weird heat rash that's going down one side, itchy as all hell and red and bumpy. She manages to camouflage most of it with a loose fitting sundress, something of breathable material, but she just happens to need a strapless bra with it--and strapless bras are an Enemy of the Goddamn State, man. Maybe it's a nice cocktail hour at a schmancy new bar that opened so she's dressed cute, except one of her completely heat-resistant friends got them all a table outside because clearly this friend was born and raise din the fires of Hades, so a heatwave doesn't bother them. It's outside, and tiger is fucking dying. The sweat running down her side is making her itch even more and burning the sensitive, already-irritated skin there. She feels like she's fucking melting into a puddle under the blaze of the hot sun, which she's pretty sure is searing her make up off. She feels like a swamp monster.

And if that's not bad enough--the group decides to walk for ice cream after. They decide to walk QUITE a long ways for ice cream. And all that sweat that she has going underneath her dress is just making her bra dig into the fragile skin under her breasts, and the more her thighs rub together as she walks the more she can feel the chafe like, peeling off a layer of her fucking skin and she wants to die.

And Bill for his part is kind of walking a bit ahead with his boys, maybe it's been awhile since he's seen them so he's not keenly aware of the absolute hell that tiger is currently in. Until she snaps when, after ice cream, it's time to walk alllllllll the way back to the car.

"Fuck this," she mutters, "I'm out." And then a little louder. "Bill, I'm out."

He gives her a worried look, taking a few long strides until he's back with her.

"Okay kid," he says, "We can leave as soon as we get back to the car."

"Yep." She smiles, wide and scary--but doesn't move.

"It's...It's this way," he gestures somewhat helplessly to the direction everyone else continues walking in.

"Sure is."

She still doesn't move.

"....tiger?"

He jumps a mile when she lets out the loudest whistle he's ever heard, nearly giving him an uppercut as her hand shot up quickly. A cab came to a screeching halt, and she opened the door.

Confused but knowing better than to argue, Bill folded himself in half in the back seat as the cab drove them the 3 minute distance to the car.

"Are you....okay?" he asks cautiously as she buckles up her seatbelt in his car, and tiger just...man, tiger wants to go home. She's so uncomfortable, she's so itchy, everything burns, she's still overheated and she's just so over this night.

"I'm tired and too hot," she says instead, "Just take me home."

And like, look. Once they're home? Bill goes to unzip her dress because she always needs help with it, but tiger kind of smacks his hands away and huffs. He doesn't think much of it, she's just fussy and in a bad mood and she doesn't always want to be touched when she's feeling that way. And tiger, in the meantime, is just trying to locate either some calamine lotion or some cortisone cream or hell just a million ice packs that she can place on her side, between her thighs, under her breasts--everywhere that just seems on fire at the moment.

She heads to the bathroom, closing the door so she can rummage the cupboards in peace. She finally takes the dress off and flings her bra across the room and she winces at what she sees in the mirror. Her entire side is red and bumpy, an angry, itchy rash scaling up her torso. Tenderly, she rubs the skin under her breasts and bites her lip in pain--the skin there is raised, bright red, irritated and stinging. A quick check on her inner thighs reveals the same thing. She sighs, running the tap so that Bill won't hear her.

But listen, Bill? Bill just thinks she's washing her face, and he wanders in with a little whisky digestif and to see if he can entice her into taking a bubble bath with him. He opens the door and tiger shrieks, grabbing at a towel to cover herself--but not before he got a good view of what seems like half her body, bright red and irritated.

"Tiger," he gasps softly, "Kid what happened?"

"Bill get out," she squeaks, wrapping the towel around herself.

"No," he says. He yanks at her towel but she smacks his hand away.

"Bill," she says, a tad more angry now, "Leave me alone."

"No," he says again, "Tiger, show me."

"No."

"Tiger," it's his turn to be stern now, "We have rules. And so help me, if you don't drop that fucking towel then there will be another part of you that is bright fucking red. Now show me."

"It's okay," she sighs defeatedly, "It's just... a bit irritated."

She opens the towel a tad, showing him her side. Bill puts the whiskey glasses down and hold the towel open, leaning to get a closer look.

"What happened?" he asks softly, "Are you allergic to something?"

"No," she mumbles--god this is embarassing--"It's just...the heat. It gave me a bit of a rash that won't go away."

He nods, his eyebrows knitting together, and he tugs gently to undo the knot on her towel. When she protests he gives her a stern look and she sighs, letting him undo her covering. Gently, he runs his fingers along the side of her breasts and trail them down her rib cage.

"And here?"

"Strapless bra, sweat, and rubbing," she winces when he hits a sensitive spot and he apologizes, "Recipe for disaster."

He nods, his eyes sweeping over her looking for more markings.

"Anywhere else?" he asks after a beat. Tiger bites her lip, and he gently tugs it free with his thumb. She sighs, giving up, and rests her foot on the toilet so he can see her inner thigh.

"Dump truck thigh chafe," she says, "It's a killer."

He leans, kissing the marking softly.

"Oatmeal," he says as he stands and turns for the door, "A lukewarm oatmeal bath, and some calamine lotion."

"Bill, I'm handling it. It's not--"

But he spins back around.

"We. Have. Rules." every word is short, curt, and accentuated with a step as he backs her up to the tub and looms tall over her, "Don't we sweet girl?"

"Yes."

"And do you think that hiding this from me--spending the evening in discomfort and pain and not telling me anything--is that following the rules?" he asks. God he's authoritative when he's like this.

"Probably not?" she tries. A quick, challenging quirk of his brow and suddenly she's not so brave. "No, it's not following the rules."

"And trying to stop me from taking care of it when I do find out, is that following the rules?"

"No," she says meekly, "It's not."

"That's right, it's not," he says and he kisses her softly, "So you're going to let me take care of these markings, and then you're going to get some brand new ones."

And listen, Bill is more just pissed that tiger was in pain, clearly for at least a few days, and she didn't tell him. He's even more pissed that she sat there so uncomfortable that night, and also didn't tell him. But he puts his anger aside to care for her first--and an oatmeal bath it is, he gets in there with her and soaks while they sip their whiskey. And when they get out, he carefully dabs calamine lotion all over her--giving it a second to dry before pulling his big shirt over her head.

"Bedroom," he says, "Now."

Tiger slinks away--but also, man, what if our girl just ain't feeling it tonight? Yes, she was bad. Yes, she broke the rules. She's a little small about it but she's dealing okay, and truth be told she just...ugh, the thought of another patch of her skin being red and irritated and sore from a spanking is just kind of too much for her. It's a discomfort and a pain that she just doesn't feel up to dealing with tonight, after already spending so much time uncomfortable. SO maybe she's kneeling on his side of the bed when he comes in to find her, and as he approaches she just kind of thunks her head on his thigh, fiddles with the waistband of his boxers.

"Bill," she says softly, "Can I...can you punish me tomorrow for this? I've had enough discomfort for today. I don't want it."

Bill's heart could explode. He smiles at her--big and wide and totally dopey, hooks his hand around her arms and sets her on her feet gently.

"Good girl," he purrs, kissing her deeply, "My good girl."

She coos a little at that, and he tucks her into his chest for a tight hug.

"You tell me when you're ready to be punished kid, and we'll do it then," he tells her. She nods, and when he lays out in bed tiger just lies flat on his chest, sticks his thumb in her mouth, and starts snoring a few seconds later. Bill just lovingly tends to her for the next day or two--lukewarm baths, lots of calamine, lots of unscented soothing lotions--and then eventually after a few days when he's sitting on the couch playing a video game, tiger just walks in, shimmies out of her panties and lies across his lap.

"Let's have it bud," she tells him, "Make it hurt."

[fortheloveoffanfic]

Heaven, Hell and You

John Constantine x OFC  (A/n- Just gonna toss in some cheesy tropes to move things along)

Masterlist   Chapter 2

Warnings- Brief mentions of mental health

Chapter 3

John had made several mistakes in his life, though he couldn't determine if bringing Valerie back to his loft was one of them. She'd been eerily silent throughout the car ride, keeping closer to the door with her head cast towards the window as John drove in silence. And even when they'd reached his building, as led the way up to his apartment, she hadn't offered him the slightest pea. He needed her to talk though, so he could decipher what or who she was.

Valerie had to be special. Between his all too life like dreams and her being attacked by a demon trying to escape into their realm, she couldn't just be any regular human. Besides, she'd understood Latin as if it were English, and the only time he'd ever come across that was with angels. Nephilim, it was the only plausible answer. How could she not know though? 

Taking off the whistling kettle from the stove, John filled up two mismatched mugs, both with tea bags he'd been surprised he'd had, leaving room for milk and sugar in one. He had never been the most hospitable, and usually preferred to not entertain guests, but he also supposed that the least he could do after essentially dragging her to his car was try to make her stay comfortable. And of course, get her to trust him so she'd talk. 

After a while, he didn't really note how long it had been, Valerie emerged, wearing what he'd left out for her after offering to let her use his shower. Well, at least half of it, "I couldn't fit in your sweats," she blushed, certainly noting the way his dark eyes had landed on her exposed legs. Her very smooth, toned legs. 

Clearing his throat, John tried to shake off the perverse thoughts, "Its fine," he dismissed, "Tea?"

Nodding stiffly, Valerie relieved him of the cup, only stirring in a spoon of sugar before bringing it to her lips, "Thanks," she smiled, her face half hidden by the ceramic mug, "And um……thank you for everything else too."

"No problem," he obliged, gesturing for them to sit, "Just part of the job."

"The job?" Her brows knitted in question.

"I'm an occult detective," and when she still showed no sign of understanding, he carried on with explaining, "I do exorcisms, investigate the supernatural, that kind of stuff.”

“I….” Trailing off, she tried to make sense of it all, “Exorcisms? The supernatural? That’s,” exhaling softly, John could already see that the little bits he’d given were too much for her, “That stuff isn’t real,” Valerie shook her head dismissively, though, he could see that thing in her frightened eyes, that thing that told John she wanted to  believe him.

“You’ve got a better explanation for what happened back there?” Leaning back in his chair, John crossed his legs at the ankles, waiting for an answer.

Straightening her back, Valerie set the mug down, “Schizophrenia could easily explain that boy’s behavior, and it’s commonly associated with-”

Cutting her off, John interrupted her rambling, “And what about you understanding a language you’ve never learned?”

“Well there’s there’s not a lot of medical research on it, but I assume that a neurologist would suggest a brain tumor, or an-”

Chuckling dryly, John shook his head and folded his arms across his chest, “So you’d rather believe that you have a brain tumor than believe that demons and that stuff,” he quoted mockingly, “Is real?”

Clenching her jaw, Valerie stood abruptly, “That’s bullshit, that’s all nonsense and babble from the bible. Things meant to scare people into obedience,” emitting a dry, husky laugh, she rolled her eyes, “You expect me to believe that there are demons and one of them just knows me by name and decided to come after me. Cause that’s so believable!” 

John stood too, fuming at her stubbornness. To think he’d actually thought he could like her! “If it’ll save your ass then yeah!”

“Save my ass from what?” Her yell was louder than his, and for a hot minute, all sorts of tension building between them, they just stood there, both red in the face, fuming.

“You should be telling me!” Running fingers through his hair, John turned away, walking over to lean on the skin, “You’re the one they’re after!”

“They?” 

“Hell,” he clarified, “And maybe heaven too, I don’t know. Look,” his tone softened as John desperately tried to reason. Despite Valerie being extremely difficult, he still had the gnawing urge to help her. There was just something about her, he just couldn’t put his finger on it, “I know it’s a lot to hear in just one night, but believe it or not, they’re after you. And you’re the only person that knows why,” he sighed when she sat again, the gravity dawning on her just as she really started to let his words sink in, “Look, that couldn’t have been the first time-”

“It was,” she sniffled, swiping at her eyes, “I mean, it sort of was. I guess…..” Swallowing tightly, Valerie continued slowly and reluctantly, “I hear things sometimes…..they say they’re coming for me. Sometimes I see people that aren’t there, but the doctors-”

“Gave you a bunch of pills and told you it was all in your head?” John knew the story all too well, after all, it had been his story too. 

“Sort of,” she shook her head, voice teary and smaller than before, “They said that I was being paranoid at first, and then this doctor that I went to when I was in college, gave me antipsychotics. She said that was delusional and when i graduated, my grandparents had to pay for the records to be suppressed so I could even get this job; no one’s gonna hire a crazy nurse.”

Her story, as little of it as she’d told, tugged at John’s heart. Going through something like that alone couldn’t have been easy and he didn’t want to upset her further, but the more he knew, the better he could help her, “Do you see things too?”

Thinking on it in silence, Valerie eventually nodded slowly, avoiding his gaze, “Yeah,” blinking away tears, “The meds never helped, so I stopped taking them. And now I just try to ignore it, but it’s so scary sometimes,” her already soft voice dropped to a sorrowful whisper, “Gosh,” her voice broke, “You must think I’m crazy.”

Finally pushing off the edge of the sink, John dragged the chair closer to Valerie’s tentatively resting his hand over hers on the table. It was so foreign for him, taking someone’s hand like that and the last hand he held was Angela’s, when they’d tried the whole dating thing, but holding hers didn’t feel half as right as holding Valerie’s and John, for the slightest second, though he could get used to it. If only he’d let himself. “I don’t,” he eventually reassured, causing her to look up at him with wide, hopeful eyes, a couple drying locks falling over her delicate features, “I see them too, when I was a kid, my parents sent me to a mental institute. They tried everything, electrotherapy,” at that, she gasped sympathetically, “Meds, but nothing helped. And I tried to kill myself.” It was hard to avoid the sympathy that welled up in her gaze, and the way she turned her hand beneath his, so she could circle his fingers in a loose grasp. He hated the vulnerability that came with telling someone the truth about himself, but though his mind protested, John came clean in one go, hoping it would help her open up.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered, squeezing his fingers, and suddenly, she was the one comforting him, “That couldn’t have been easy, but now you have a second chance, right?” Finally, she was starting to admit that she, at least partly, believed him, “Not a lot of people can say they have that.”

“Right,” just realizing how close they’d gotten, both leaning over the table and hands still locked, John pulled away abruptly, resigning to the back of his chair at the kitchen table, “And I’m trying to make the best of it. But this isn’t about me-” When he caught her staring, frown down-turning full, pink lips, he furrowed his brows, “What?”

“You’re hurt,” as quickly as she stood, Valerie was dropping to her knees in front of him, their position leaving John a little more than flustered, “Let me see your arm.” Without his permission, she was already holding on to his left hand, undoing the cuff buttons of his dress shirt, ripped on the sleeve from the earlier confrontation, pushing it up to his elbow, revealing his tattoo along with a large slash running for about six or seven inches at the top of his arm, “It looks like it’s only just started to bleed through the fabric, but it’s bad. It doesn’t need stitches though. You’re lucky, it’s not close to the vein and not too deep either. Do you have a first aid kit? I have supplies in my car, but…..”

“I brought you here in mine,” he huffed. She was so close, and with her looking up at him like that, wide doe eyes so sweet and innocent and plump lips barely agape, it was kind of hard to think, “I have some things,” he breathed, feeling like he should be looking anywhere but at her face, lest he submit to whatever spell that it exuded, the only one he wasn’t immune to. “But you don’t have to-”

“I insist, you saved my life,” she smiled faintly, “Though, if you’d prefer an E.R, I could go with you, my Id’s in my bag so it wouldn’t take too long.”

“No,” he dismissed,” I mean,” floundering for his words, John fought to uncloud his mind, “I can take care of myself, you should get some rest.”

“Look, I’m staying with you so you can do your job, right? You want to help me because its your job?” Sitting back on her heels, Valerie’s hold on his hand continued, “Well since I’m here, you should let me do mine, please.”

Thinking on it, John could tell that Valerie probably wasn’t going to give up the matter so easily, thus, he submitted, “Okay, there should be some things that you can use in the medicine cabinet, above the sink in the bathroom.”

“Good,” she all but leaped up, scuttling off barefoot into the bathroom, only to return minutes later with John’s beat up first aid kit clutched in her small hands. Setting it down, Valerie pulled her chair even closer, so close that when she sat, one of his knees parted hers legs slightly. And when she leaned over to look over his wound, John could smell his soap mixing intoxicatingly with her natural scent. She’d put her hair up with a tie from her purse, and her eyes were trained on his arm, concentration equally reflected in her steady hands, gently dabbing his wound with Hydrogen Peroxide, trying to bring as little pain as possible, “Does it hurt?” 

“A little,” He returned lowly, slightly wincing, “It did before, but I didn’t notice the bleeding until you pointed it out.”

“Okay,” when she was through with cleaning it, Valerie rummaged through the kit again with gloved hands, looking for an antibiotic cream or powder, searching for a while until she found something satisfactory, “There’s some bruising, it shouldn’t cause too many problems, but it’ll still hurt and we should keep an eye on it.”

We

“Alright, thanks,” John kept his eyes on her, admiring how she worked with a tenderness that he found often absent in other medical personnel. It was like, she cared in a personal way, as if he meant something to her already. He wondered if the treatment was exclusive to him, or if it was just something she carried within her. “So, you’re a nurse?”

“Nurse practitioner,” Valerie corrected, “I work in the ICU at Los Angeles General, most of a doctor’s work for half their pay,” she chuckled lightly.

Without warning, John found himself mirroring her smile, the mood lightening. “So why aren’t you a doctor instead?”

After a moment, she shrugged her shoulders, moving on to wrapping a bandage over his arm, to keep the gauze in place “When I was kid, my mother was an N.P in the E.R, I used to want to be just like her,” Valerie’s face fell, “She always said that I had…..healing hands, whatever that meant.”

By the time Valerie was done, she still held onto his wrist, her thumb tracing circles into his skin, “Can your mom…..or any of your other family see….things?”

As he asked the question, Valerie’s smile, as faint as it was faltered, “No, she couldn’t. I’m actually adopted, and my mom died when I was thirteen.”

“Oh,” his shoulders slumped as John realized that figuring out exactly what she was, was going to be much more complicated than he'd anticipated. Usually, it was easy for him, he could see past the surface, but Valerie, as far as he could see, was perfectly human. And who knew how much her parents, or at least her dad, would know. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, it was a long time ago,” her forced smile was enough to tell John that Valerie was done with the topic, and when she moved her hands, starting to pack up everything she’d taken out, “And um, you should take something, for the pain, and try not to get it wet when you shower,” the chair scraped on the worn tiles when she stood, “Thank you for everything but maybe I should see if my dress is dried and-”

“You have to stay here,” John objected hastily, frightening her in the slightest, “I mean,” he tried to broach the matter again, “I mean, it might not be safe for you to get back or stay alone, we still don’t know why that demon was after you, and something else could come just as easily, you really should stay.”

“I couldn’t impose like that,” she shook her head, desperately not wanting to overstay her welcome.

Standing too, John placed a tentative hand on her shoulder, causing her to meet his gaze once more, “You wouldn’t be. Stay tonight, and tomorrow, we can talk about this some more, when you’ve gotten some rest. Please?”

Hesitating for a moment, Valerie weighed the options; go home alone at nearly two in the morning and possibly get attacked by something she knew nothing about, or stay with a somewhat trustworthy though abrasive, handsome stranger and be safe. "Fine, but I have to get my car, first thing tomorrow morning."

"Okay," he determined, "I've gotta take a shower, but you can take the bed."

Giving John's place a sweeping look, she noted his mismatched furniture; a rickety kitchen table with four chairs, a long sofa with a couple worn throw pillows nearby in front of her, and behind her, near the furthest window was a bed, haphazardly made. "Where will you sleep?"

"Couch," he gestured to the sofa behind him, trying to move around her, only for Valerie to grab his bicep, stopping him suddenly.

"You don't have to do that, we can share it," when his expression suggested that he wasn't readily on board with the idea, she offered, "Or I can take the couch, whatever is better for you."

It was weird, sleeping in an unfamiliar bed with a man she didn't know. Valerie had only ever had one, one night stand and even then, she'd been too drunk to care whose bed she'd fallen asleep in. But that night, with John, the alcohol had already subsided and though they'd come close to kissing, she was pretty sure he wasn't interested in her like that. 

She'd been laying beneath his thin covers, pillows wedged between his sleeping body and her annoyingly awake one for nearly an hour and a half, and not once had her eyes felt heavy. Valerie was wide awake. 

The digital alarm clock on her side, with its glowing red numbers told her that it was nearing three am and all Valerie could have mustered up by then was, at most, five minutes of shutting her eyes tightly and hoping for the best. Though, the best never came. 

She laid like that for a while more, that was, until John started fretting in his sleep, mumbling incoherently as beads of perspiration gathered on his brow. "John?" Valerie sat up, shifting to face him, too scared of his reaction to rouse him. "John?" She called a bit louder, her worry building. Valerie had seen people have nightmares before, ex boyfriends or patients during a night shift, but they much unlike the one she was witnessing right then. John was thrashing, occasionally yelling.

When he eventually shot up it was minutes later with wide, disoriented eyes, hands reaching out wildly, and maybe she'd heard wrong, but her name leaving his lips in a babbled cry. It took him a while to settle down, but even when he did, Valerie threaded carefully, "Are you okay?"

Her hand lingered in his shoulder, actually itching to cup his cheek, and John gazed at her intensely in the darkness before speaking again, like he had to be sure she was really there, "Yeah," he swallowed thickly, chest dominated by deep, heavy breaths, “It was just a bad dream. You should get back to sleep.”

Ignoring his advice, Valerie squeezed his shoulder affectionately, scooting closer despite her better judgement, jamming her thigh against the makeshift barrier keeping them apart, “Do you want to talk about it? What was it about?” 

Once again, their faces were too close, and it felt too comfortable, so comfortable that neither John nor Valerie showed any signs of moving away from each other. His throat felt tight and dry, though his heart was slowing with every second that her hand remained on his bare shoulder. Healing hands. She was there, and she was okay. When the word finally fell off his lips, lonesome, quiet though speaking immeasurable volumes in the silence, they just stared at each other, not knowing if to lean in or pull away, “You.”

******

Tagging- @harrisongslimited @magnificentclodpiebanana @keandrews @greenmanalishi  @rdjloverxxx @danceoftwowolves  @planetkt @wheretheriversrunintothesea  @luxx-aeterna

[original-fuzzywool]

Martina is about the nicest wife anyone can imagine. I am told by friends and family all of the time what a sweetie she is and how lucky I am. We all have our surface personalities and for my wife Martina hers is sweet and nice. She is that way 99% of the time. That 1% of the time, typically happens when she has a paddle or cane in her hand. I am the only one to gets to “experience” the 1% Martina.

We are a typically kinky couple playing with bondage and spanking and dominating each other. We play games to see who will be “The Slave” the next weekend and half the time, we are both trying to lose.  For the last six months or so, things have been shifting to Martina being more the dominant. I’d say the transition happened about a year ago when we started playing with Chastity.

I had been following some Chastity Blogs and had sort of been addicted to a few that pumped out daily Chastity Memes. One day I showed her some of them on my laptop. While we went through them, she shivered with excitement on some of them. It was like a whole new world with new ideas and concepts had opened up. She asked me to save the “good ones”. Every week or two, she would snuggle up next to me on the couch if I had my laptop and say, “Lets look at what is new in the chastity world”. We would go through the new meme’s I had collected and some of her favorite older ones. This activity almost always ended the same way. She would talk about keeping me locked up. She would say she was going to lock me up for a month and then decide to add another month. Or she would tell me that Chastity was going to be my new normal and she would be the queen of my world. Then things would boil over and a few minutes later we would be undressed and making love.

We did actually get a chastity belt (or 5 while we experimented with fit, longevity and security) a year ago. It is definitely a part of our lives; I am belted 2-3 times each month. Typically for 1-3 days while she teases me or we have something to do and she wants me focused. Of course I’m belted the 4 days a month that her body tells her, “Belt Him, he is useless”.  

While Martina talks a great chastity game and loves the ideas behind the meme’s she is a disappointing keyholder for long term. And I am fine with that. She always asks if I am ok or if it hurts. I can tell after she asks she realizes she made a mistake, she really wants to be a harsh keyholder. We have had a few good runs but the longest I was ever in chastity was after a required 4 days because of her monthly cycle, she was going away for the weekend. She really wanted me belted but had to make sure about 5 times that it was ok with me to wait for her return. I was belted for 6 days and nights and after a year of chastity games that is the longest I have ever been belted.

Our fetish area’s extend beyond bondage. I have a MAJOR wool and sweater fetish. I beg her to wear thick and fuzzy sweaters and buy them for her all the time. Last Spring it was too warm for a big sweater and we were going to a BBQ on Sunday. It was overcast and I begged her to wear a sweater. She finally agreed when I offered to put the chastity belt on for a week if she would do it. I was only locked for 5 days, but that opened the door for similar deals.  

One time I wanted to buy myself a very expensive thickly knitted turtleneck sweater and I had to ask because it was so expensive. She told me that when the package arrived, I had to go in the chastity belt and stay a day for every 10 dollars the sweater cost. Then I told her the sweater was $270 dollars so that would be 27 days. She asked if I still wanted the sweater. I hesitated for a whole day. Then I told her that I want the sweater and we ordered it. She was so excited when it arrived. I have to admit getting a new sweater is a very sexual experience for me and having it in a chastity belt was very frustrating. It was fun, and it was probably very fun for me because after 6 days she got the keys and said “Get that big sweater on and get the belt off and come to mama”.   The following days she was very disappointed in herself for not going the 27 days. That was sort of typical for the first year of Chastity. She was a fun key holder but not like the women on the meme’s that got her so excited.

Lately we have been doing the memes even more and she has shown interest in the anal training memes. She asked if it was true that a man can cum from anal. We looked it up and it’s true. She wanted to know if a man could cum from anal while in chastity and we looked it up and it looks true too. She thought that was very hot. She asked me about my experience had I ever….. I had to disappoint her that I had never tried anal and only a few times worn a butt plug for a short time. Based on this interest, once she had me locked up for a day and used a dildo on my behind and while it felt weird and maybe a little bit good, I didn’t cum nor did I feel like I ever would. Still it became a fantasy for meme time.

She had several meme fantasies that always got her going probably number 1 was “I’m adding an extra month because you tried to get me to unlock you” At some point I realized that this was exciting to her because I never really asked her to let me out. I certainly never begged. She almost always ran to get the keys the instant I suggested we make love. Her number 2 favorite was the “Hey welcome to vacation, by the way, I left your keys at home” She loved that one. The 3rd one was probably a tie between “This is your new lifestyle get used to it” and “I am going to train you to cum from anal so I never have to unlock you”.

It was last Spring and I have some time off in June, So I booked a 4 day weekend in late May at a resort. I selected the resort for two reasons. 1) They have a killer golf course and I could play golf all day while Martina hangs at the pool or spa 2) The room had two bedrooms both with big cast iron beds. We can sleep in one room and set the other one up as a bondage room. Maybe she will even leave me tied up all night like she did once at another resort.

I emailed her the reservation and expected to get MEGA points for being a great husband. Instead I got “Golf really? What if I keep you in chastity all weekend. Can you still play golf? Do you still want to go there?”   I had to reply that I have played golf in chastity at least a dozen times and while I don’t love it, I still enjoy the game and if she wants me to play golf in chastity, I am happy to oblige. And of course, I took the chance in my reply to tell her the evenings in May are cool enough for sweaters and I offered to pack some for her. (knowing I would pack much thicker fuzzier sweaters than she likes)

We made the booking and for the next six weeks before the trip she would look at me and say “Gee I hope I don’t forget to pack the chastity keys for our trip” and then she would shudder with excitement. I would counter with you won’t be able to reach the keys because I’m keeping you chained to the extra bedroom the entire weekend, gagged and diapers so you know you won’t be getting unchained. She would shudder at that too.

Saturday Night the week before the trip I was teasing her about keeping her in bondage for 4 days. She sat up straight and said, “I’ve got a serious issue with this trip. I’m worried that the first night we are going to have a furious night in bed and just drain all of our energy for sex and then I’m going to be in the condo and at the pool for 3 days board out of my mind while YOU are on a golf vacation.” I assured her that would not happen. She thought “Monday Morning put on your chastity belt and give me the keys, I want you good and horny by Thursday Night when we check in and I want to decide when it comes off.”  I replied that keyholders always decide when it comes off (Even though we both knew this wasn’t really true) and I thought the idea was really effing hot. Finished by saying “So you are ordering me into chastity, I like it”

Thursday was stressful while we packed for 4 days of fun. We had two large bags I packed that were very heavy and all they had in them was chains, locks handcuffs, collars, dildoes, gags, paddles a whip, a cane six thick fuzzy sweaters of both male and female variety. We had a little fight but that was normal and the car ride was enjoyable. We talked about sex once, but I changed the subject because my “interest” was causing pain due to the chastity belt confinement. She figured it out and we had normal conversation.  

We arrived at 8pm just before sunset. We decide to quickly get everything from the car to the top floor condo and make drinks to watch the sunset on the deck. We didn’t unpack but tossed bags into rooms and the golf clubs in the hallway. She was on the deck as I walked up with the drinks. She looked so happy. We watched the sunset and decided to make more drinks. This time she said “I’ll make the drinks and a snack. You go unpack the playroom, the deck will cool off so you better come back with some sweaters. I want you in that thick black cable turtleneck and I’d like you to pick for me the sweater that you would most like to make love to me in while I wear it. Ya know, old fashioned sweater sex.

She went to make the drinks and I went to unpack, I knew I had time because she was cooking a snack. So, I unpacked and set up the corners of the bed with chains and laid out wrist and ankle cuffs along with locks and keys neatly organized on the bed. I had brought a thick fuzzy pink turtleneck for her and I selected that for her to wear. When I came out she was just finishing the drinks and I was walking slightly bent over with short steps. All the excitement and my chastity belt where really starting to hurt me. I was too excited.

She was just finishing the drinks and saw the pink sweater. “oh you really want to fuck me tonight don’t you” I handed her the sweater with a wince. She noticed, “Trouble down under?” I shrugged and said, “Someone locked me in a chastity belt and I can’t even get a hard on when I see my beautiful wife”. She giggled and we went outside.

I sat down, it really wasn’t cold enough for these sweaters, I thought. She didn’t sit down instead something inside her snapped. She was jumping up and down, she was giggling and started to say out loud, “I did it, I did it!” and it got louder until she leaned over the balcony and yelled to the world “I DID IT” and someone on a deck below yelled back “Congratulations”. That embarrassed her and she shut up and sat down. Red faced and looking so “sweater sexy” she looked at me and said “I did it, I am so proud of myself, this is a wonderful feeling, I didn’t think I could do it, But this feels great, I am so happy”   I asked if she quit her job or something. She looked deep at me and said “I forgot your chastity keys at home” then she made quotes with her fingers and said “Forgot” and laughed and laughed. “I really did it. Now we are going to experience that Chastity vacation together and I did it!”

She saw me wince again. All dressed up for sweater sex and no place to go…. I knew I was now going to be belted until at least Tuesday Night when we got home and that would be a new record of 8 days. For reasons that are not logical, this caused my member to be uncontrolled in it’s desire to achieve full status, I was getting 100% excited and I could not stop it. Some part of me loved this.

The next day playing Golf in Chastity was tough. Partly because I didn’t remember how tough chastity golf was and partly because Marina had waited till our 3rd drink then chained me spread eagle to the play bed, with just my sweater and chastity belt on. She then pulled out a stack of adult diapers we only used for extreme long bondage sessions and put on one me. She kissed me and said she wanted to sleep in the king bed alone tonight and assured me I would be unchained in time for my tee time. When you sleep chained spread eagle, you wake up sore. My golf game suffered.

Friday was warm and when I returned, I begged her to wear a sweater to dinner. She declined but said that maybe she would wear one for breakfast because cooler air was moving in. I started to beg, with my stuff locked up, sweater play was my only play. She stopped me and said: “I’ve already experienced the absolute joy of “forgetting” your keys” do you really want me to experience the joy of adding weeks to your chastity sentence on only our first full day of vacation?  .... Do Ya?” I put my head down submissively, lowered my eyes and shook my head no.  She put her hand on my head and said, “Oh I like how this works”

Saturday my tee time was not till 10am, we planned to eat breakfast together at 8am. I woke up sore. I was once again chained and diapered all night. It was 7:50 and she was ready for breakfast and unchaining my locks on the play bed. She said, “sorry I didn’t get you up earlier but you looked so peaceful sleeping all tied up, we both have to hurry to get ready.” I got up and went into the bathroom to change. I came out at 8AM and I started to get my golf stuff in the room together. I heard her from the hallway. “I’m going down to get a table and a mimosa. Don’t be too long.”

I was probably taking too long, it had probably been 10 minutes. That is when my phone buzzed and it was her. She used her selfie stick to send me a pic from the restaurant lobby. It was the photo from this post with a note, “We are being seated now, every minute you are late is equal to one day.” OMG I never saw her in that sweater!! She bought a new sweater! I dropped my golf stuff and flew out the door, ran down the stairs and got to her just as she was being seated.

She asked me where my sweater was? She indicated that when it’s summer and she is all sweatered up for me, she expects me to be sweatered too. She would explain this later tonight in case I don’t understand. I knew then I was in for a paddling tonight as she “explained” it to me.

I just kept gushing at the table about how sexy she looked in that sweater and the sweater and shorts were incredible. It took a long time to get us seated because she had asked for the table in the corner of the room away from everyone.

At a break in the conversation, I was thinking I should be wonderful and get her mind off of tonight’s spanking. I looked at her and I told her how horny I was being locked up and knowing I was going to be locked up all vacation, Then I told her how proud I was that she had taken the step to leave the keys at home and how fun it was to watch her revel in the achievement. I had no idea how difficult it had been for her.

She replied by telling me how she really struggles with being the Key holder. Part of her wants to be a ruthless keyholder and keep me in a sexual state all the time, but the bigger part of her does not want to be mean to me or make me uncomfortable so she lets me out. She said every time she locks me up she tells herself it will be a week to a month and almost every time she feels bad and lets me out in 2-3 days. She frowned and said, “It makes me feel like a failure”.  She frowned a little then said “And I know you take advantage of me in this regard.” She paused and nodded, I knew she was right. “No more”

“What changed or inspired you” I asked.

“Mona” she said and I tried not to cringe. Mona is her friend who doesn’t really like me and is aggressive and kind of mean. But they are best friends and have been since before Martina and I met. “Did you know that Mona and Dave have done chastity for 5 years?” I had no idea that my wife even talks about this sort of stuff with other people. “Mona and I went through the chastity meme’s and she told me that most of them are simply male fantasy and very few women would ever say that. She told me her chastity system and says she would never have life any other way. She keeps a journal. When she gets a hankering to lock up Dave, or Dave is a dumbass, she writes down five things: 1) Why she feels that way 2) How long she wants him locked up 3) What she wants sexually for herself out of the locking up 4) What she wants Dave to experience sexually (if anything) during the lock up and 5) What she wants done and accomplished non-sexually before he gets unlocked.

She writes those five things down and she says that if a woman is going to be true to themselves and enjoy the power of having the key , while prioritizing to ignore male suffering, then she MUST make sure the list is complete before the belting is ended AND she NEVER tells Dave how long she is planning on having him belted. She will share things with him about the goals, especially things like… one time……ha (she laughed) Do you remember when Dave got it in his head that he was going to paint the whole house in a week all by himself? So do you remember that? Yeah. We thought Dave was crazy and he was, but it was not actually his idea. After being belted for 2 weeks, Mona told him he gets out AFTER the whole house is painted and not a minute before. She said he never worked so hard on anything ever. He never complained he just worked for his goal.

Last week I wrote down my five things. I read them three times each day to cement them in my head and make sure that is what I wanted. Now I am your Key Holder and I am confident with my plan and feel great about it. How do you like it so far?   I replied that I really wanted to have sex with her but being belted on vacation with the keys at home was a really hot surprise.

She smiled big. You are so wonderful I have another surprise for you. I’m going to tell you some of the things I wrote down. (I thought, AWESOME) I wrote down that as my gift for you sexually I am going to spend the entire day and night with you and I’m going to wear this new thick fuzzy sweater all day long. I will be your smok’n hot, drink buying, golf partner, but I won’t play because golf is stupid. (she always said that), I will wear it after golf for whatever you want to do and I will wear it out to dinner when you take me to a nice restaurant tonight to celebrate. I will wear it when I serve you a nightcap back at the room.

Wow.

“And in return for this wonderful gift, you will be giving me, one month in chastity that starts today.”

“Holy Cow, I like the sweater part a lot”, I said. I was in a big panic. My world chastity record was 6 days and this was going to be 36 days, at least.

I got myself together and said, “How about I stay in Chastity till next weekend and every day next week we turn down the A/C and I pick a sweater for you to wear every night?”

She laughed and said, “It’s so cute you are trying to negotiate, remind me again who has the keys?”

“OK, OK, Chastity for 10 days from now, no sweaters and I’ll clean the kitchen every night, that will be 16 days in chastity and more than double my world record” and with that I gave her my most manipulative, please please, I love you so much face I could muster.

“You are staying belted until one month from now, I don’t see how that could possibly change, unless I decide to add time beyond a month. I do like the clean the kitchen every night. I’m sure you will do that anyway, because you might fear that I will add days for not doing so. Now, I expect you to clean the kitchen every night you are belted or that day does not count.   I’m tired of this conversation. I am going to let you give me one more lame attempt to put conditions or propose changes to MY plan. Just one more time you can ever mention it. You have until the end of breakfast. Then any further requests for release or suggestions about my keyholding and your one month will automatically become TWO MONTHS. I suggest you at least be entertaining with your suggestion.”

The waiter arrived with breakfast, perfectly timed, so I would shut my mouth.

We didn’t say much during breakfast. At some point, she reached over and touched my hand. “You are pretty sexy when you are thinking so hard”

I knew I had to go back to the meme’s and the things that she seemed to really like. Suddenly I couldn’t remember any of it. As breakfast was almost done, I had it. “I’m ready, for my last lame attempt to get out of this chastity belt before one month”

“Good, I can’t wait, then we have a tee time”. She said it like it was just a formality and this was a pointless exercise in my using my mouth to say nothing important.

“I will submit to you for any action whatsoever for the next 10 days. I challenge you to train me to cum in my chastity belt from anal.” Her mouth dropped open, her butt wiggled a little bit and I knew that the juices had started to flow. I continued: “You have ten days to train me to cum from anal, not just drip a little, but to make me an anal whore. If you fail, on day #11 I am release from the chastity belt. But IF you are successful, and I hope you are, Then I want to be an anal whore and you have to make me cum from anal at least two times every week, further, if I am horny and want to be fucked, you cannot refuse me, unless I have already cum twice in the last 7 days.

She leaned back in the chair and one hand went under the table then suddenly rocketed back to the top of the table. I knew I did something good, because she was going to rub herself and had forgotten we are in a restaurant. After a minute if thoughtful gazing at me.

“I will accept your challenge, if you still want to do it, because I will not agree unless, after I have trained you to be an excellent anal whore, the rule will be, before you can cum, you must first be tied up, gagged and spanked heartily. Most times probably on the spanking bench but I want to also be creative. After your spanking I might just make you cum on the bench still tied up or untie you for some other adventure in cummies.

I didn’t like that additional terms, I don’t enjoy being spanked However, the chance to get out in 10 days or at least get some relief if she is successful, sounded pretty good. We agreed. I typed it all out onto an email and sent it to her. She replied confirmation that was the agreement. Apparently, putting an agreement in writing was also a Mona thing, so that there was no confusion later about agreements.

The check arrived and it was time to go get my golf clubs. Now my only concern was looking at her in the sweater as much as possible and remembering this day for the rest of my life. She is so sexy. And she will probably be very hot in the sweater too.

It was late morning and still cool, but her sweater was defiantly too much sweater for a normal person. The sweater got her noticed and two women approached her separately to tell her what a wonderful sweater she had on and ask if she made it herself. I caught the golf cart attendant checking her out seriously, he wasn’t looking at her rear or legs, he was definitely a sweater person too.

I started with a six pack of beer and a six pack of water and lots of ice from the snack shack. I figured it’s a great day to drink beer and stay hydrated.  My golf game was ok. I had a birdie and I had some trouble. We were on the back nine where there were no houses or roads. I had just blasted my ball way down the fairway with a driver but at the last moment, my ball hit a little hill and bounced forcefully into the woods. I drove the cart up to the woods parked in the shade for Martina who was now a little red faced with heat, but being a super sexy woman and also drinking most of the beer.

The group behind us was four guys that started with a crapload of beer and we had not seen them for 5 holes, I bet we were 30 minutes ahead of them. And the group in front of us was fast so it was like we had the course to ourselves.

I decided that I could find my ball and probably play it. I grabbed a few clubs and walked into the woods to find my ball. After a minute or two I found it and hit a killer shot between the trees right up the fairway and almost to the green. I was happy to still have a chance for par.

As I came out of the woods Martina looked like she was passed out. She was leaning all the way back in the seat with her head back and her eyes closed. As I approached, I said, “What are you doing?” and at that moment I could hear her breathing. She was breathing hard. Her hand was down in her crotch. As I got to the cart, I just stopped. She was rubbing the outside of her shorts and masterbating. She looked like she had been doing this a while. I just stood there looking at her. My Chastity belt signaled that it was still in place and my heart sunk when I remembered the keys where at home and then sunk again when I remembered the belt might be my closest friend for the next month.

Sheepishly I said “Whatcha do’in?”

She gasped and didn’t move her head or open her eyes. Breathlessly she said, “I started thinking……..What if after a month……. You really like this ……….. (a longer pause for a few hard strokes) What if I really like this ….. or maybe we both really like this”  With those words she gasped hard as if saying those words out loud was the trigger to her orgasm. Then her eyes shot wide open. She raised her head and looked at me …… “This could be a lifestylllllllllllllll Ahhhhh God please!!” Then as if speaking those words was a trigger to heaven, she came like a freight train for over a minute. I just stood there dumbfounded while I watched her cum more than one time.

As she settled down, I was still standing there looking at her. She opened her eyes again and turned her head toward me. She bit her lip in the most sexy way and took her hand off of her now noticeably wet crotch. She sat up a little and said, “I have 10-Days to make you the man of my dreams”

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