#but i have the crack fic going which is nice and low stress & this would be fun and silly too

[frodo-of-the-nine-fingers]

what if i just only wrote ace attorney au's from now on no one could stop me

[negantwd4l]

Regret.. part 1

Boyfriend’s dad!negan x fem reader

This is my first ever fan fic!! So please be nice😭 if you have any tips lmk pleaseee

I honestly dont like it but that happens everytime I make something so lmk what y’all think

I kind of got carried away but there will be a part 2 soon🤫

This is pre-apocalypse obvi

18+ only

This will be smutty it will include

Oral (f receiving), getting caught, age gap (reader is 20-23, negan is 50ish..?), cheating, fingering

You’ve suspected that your boyfriend has been cheating on you but you never really had proof so you’d just move on. That was until last week, you were going through his camera roll while he was in the shower to find a picture to post but instead you came across a sex tape. You watch it out of curiosity and you notice that isn’t you in the video but that was him. You’d recognise that curvy dick anywhere, you and Nate (ur bf) would have sex all the time but you never had the heart to tell him that you never enjoyed it so you’d just fake it. You put his phone down where you found it and zoned out while you tried to process what you just saw until he got out the shower and pretended you didn’t know.

Two weeks later

You still haven’t told him you know as your too stressed to deal with him trying to win you back and plead his case because you are about to start finals and have so much studying to do. You ring the doorbell to his house and surprisingly his dad negan answers the door. “Well hello there, doll!” He says in his raspy voice. Ever since you met him he’s been super flirty and you never minded it as you found him attractive but you were dating his son, then a thought flew by your mind ‘sleep with him, Nate will regret ever touching another women’ “you okay there?” His voice pulls you out of that thought and you smile “yeah, sorry. Can I come in? Me and Nate are having a movie night.” “Yes of course” he moves slightly out of the way for you so you have to brush against him to get past. “Is it okay if I join you for the movie night? I know it would be weird as I’m his dad but I feel like watching some movies yknow?” He asks voice still raspy. Your previous thought about revenge wonders to your mind again “I’d love for you to join us” you say smirking. “Alright! Let me know when you start the movies then” he then wonders off to his room just as your boyfriend comes down the stairs making your smile disappear and a fake one coming through “hey baby” he says while checking you out. Your wearing a blue low cut top and a short black skirt with some jewellery to complement your outfit. He drags you upstairs to his room which is right across the hall from negans, and you couldn’t help but look through the small crack in the door and see him without a shirt on, you look down at his perfect torso and admire the tattoos on his body as you look up you notice him looking at you too and he winks, you feel a pool burning between your legs as you turn to enter Nate’s bedroom even though you’d much rather be in negans.

“Shhh keep it down your dads in the next room” you say to him still thrusting inside you and not listening. You realise he’s getting close so you pretend you are too as he starts grabbing at your boobs, 10 seconds later he unloads in you and pulls out after “I said pull out before!! What the fuck!” You yell out not caring that his dad might hear. “I’m sorry It’s fine it’s not like your on your period anyways” that comment made your blood boil so you took your bra and shirt to the bathroom to put on and calm down. In that moment you decided to do it. You were going to seduce and fuck negan and make sure Nate knows. You come out the bathroom and make your way towards your boyfriends room. “look I’m sorry I just don’t want to risk it” you say leaning against the door frame he looks at you and apologises and asks if you wanna start the movies, of course you said yes because you wanted to see negan. You guys headed downstairs and see his dad already looking for a movie to watch “what do you think of a scream marathon?” He asks already putting the first one on, “do we have a choice?” Nate says laughing.

Your boyfriend had this weird thing about him that he has to sit in a one seater chair during a movie so you and negan sat next to each other on the couch, every now and then his arm or leg would brush against you and everytime your stomach would swirl and you’d start blushing. You didn’t think he noticed but he actually did and would smirk everytime but you were too busy trying to hide your blushing to notice. About 45 minutes into the 3rd movie Nate started to snore so you and negan looked at each other and starting laughing. You pause the movie and take him up to bed and he passes straight back out so you went downstairs to keep watching the movies with negan “finally, what took you so long? It’s like you had a quickie” he says teasingly at you while smirking. “Thank god we didn’t” you say under your breathe not sure if he heard you or not he then turns his head to you “why?” “Doesn’t matter” and he shrugs it off. After watching the movie for another 20 minutes he turns and looks at you, you look at him confused. “I have to tell you something and you won’t like it” you look at him even more confused until he continues “Nate has been.. he’s been cheating on you” he says with sorrow in his eyes “thank you for telling me, but I already know” he gives a confused look while thinking of something to say. “It’s fine, I found out 2 weeks ago” “then why are you still with him?” Not wanting him to know your intentions yet you don’t say anything back but he grabs your chin gently so you look at him “I’ve heard you two before, I could give you a real orgasm.” He says bearly above a whisper. Your mouth drops open in shock and he’s still looking at you with a smirk. ‘How did he know’ is all that’s going through your head right now “you need a real man who knows what’s fake and what isn’t. I can be that man” your mouth still open from shock as he whispers it in your ear. Without thinking you smash your lips against his hungrily and he returns it with the same amount of hunger and passion grabbing the back of your neck to pull you deeper in the kiss and you start to unbuckle his dark blue jeans in hopes of a real orgasm when he pulls back from the kiss and stops your hands, you look at him confused and ask “what’s wrong?” Hoping your not humiliating yourself he reply’s “not yet darlin’, I want to take my time with you because I’ve wanted this for so long and i know you have too” he does his infamous smirk as you bite your bottom lip, then suddenly he whispers “let’s make sure Nate knows what your real orgasm sounds like” and suddenly he’s picked you up and taking you to his room right across from Nate’s. He throws you on the bed gently but rough at the same time and doesn’t close the door all the way and you know why so you giggle a little because you can’t believe this is actually going to happen.

He looks at you seriously and asks “if you want to stop at anytime just say so. I won’t be mad, I just want to make sure your okay” you nodded and smiled at him before plunging your lips back to his and you could feel him smile against your lips, he starts kissing your jawline and you loved the way his salt and pepper beard rubbed against your neck. He slowly starts making his way down your neck after possibly leaving a hickey on your neck to your cheekbone you could feel yourself practically dripping at this point and you loved it. Suddenly he stopped and looks at you “why’s this shirt still here darlin’”before slowly slipping it up leaving kisses over where he removed the shirt until he got it over your head and starts kissing you again. He looks down to your red lacy bra and you could feel his pants tightening under your thigh which only made you wetter. He slowly removes the bra before taking a nipple to his mouth and sucking then moving to the other doing the exact same thing, he bit down on it making a moan slip out of your throat making him practically purr “ohh you like it rough don’t you, you dirty girl.” He said before slowly making his way down your stomach with kisses making you squirm under him. He was about to reach your waistband before you stopped him and looked at you concerned before you smirked then continuing to take his shirt off and seeing his upper body made you moan without even being touched, he smirked “like what you see? Don’t blame you I would stare too” “such smugness, better not be making up for something that’s lacking” you bit your lip as you looked at the spot where his jeans tightened to give him a hint “such a rude girl, do I need to punish you?” He says in a sinister tone his eyes going dark, he doesn’t wait for you to say anything back before smashing his middle finger in your tight cunt making you whimper in pain and pleasure “do I need to repeat myself?” “No” you manage to get out still in shock from his fingers smashing into you “no what?” “No daddy” “good girl. I know that’s what you call me when masterbaiting to me at night” he wasn’t wrong, your vibrator knows it too. He pulls his fingers out slowly making you whimper softly he then takes the finger and moves it into his mouth “damn you taste good darlin’” he then proceeds to move his face down to your wet pussy when you realise you panic “wait! No one’s ever done that to me before” you confess as he looks at you with a grin “so I get to be the first one to eat out your pussy. Good. And oh it seems you’re even dirtier than I thought, no panties?” You must’ve left them in Nate’s room but suddenly your train of thought was interrupted when a tongue fell on your sensitive clit making you moan loudly “that’s it baby, let me hear you” he goes straight back down and sucks your bundle of nerves making you moan again getting a groan out of him and the vibrations making you get closer to the edge. This was like nothing you’ve ever felt before in the best way possible, he continues sucking and licking then a finger pushes in you pumping in and out, then two fingers stretched you making you cry out in pain and pleasure. Your head falls back to the mattress as your eyes roll back as well. The burning ball in your stomach starts intensifying as his fingers start curling and hitting your g-spot “yes daddy f- faster please” you could barely get it out between your toes curling and one hand pushing his head down as far as it’ll go to get as much friction as you can you could barely get out words, only moans. But he listens and his pace fastens making you moan even louder. As your about to reach the edge a door opens. Nate’s door. Your in too close to care that negans door swung own and Nate stood there frozen and your eyes locked right as your orgasm ripped through you with so much force you bellowed out in pleasure. once your done negan turns around to Nate who’s still frozen “see now that’s what her real orgasm sounds like” he says, his beard covered in your juices and kicks the door shut.

[covenofthearticulate]

⛔️ Do you have a fic you started, but scrapped?

🎢 Which of your fics would you call your wildest ride?

🎶 Do you listen to music while you write? What song have you been playing on loop lately?

Fanfic Questions!

⛔️ Do you have a fic you started, but scrapped? asfdxhsfegcdjhb girl I'm sorry to say that I did, in fact, get like 2-3 pages into a louis/armand/lestat threesome and then lost momentum LOL. I get overwhelmed very easily when I write all 3 of them together, so I'm never able to write more than like 1-2k at a time because if I get too far into it then I just KNOW I'll go off on a million different tangents about their history together, their different viewpoints and philosophies and power dynamics and ANYWAY this is all to say: I'd love to get back to that fic some day, when I have the energy and headspace to do so, but right now my brain can only handle 2 people at a time lmfao

🎢 Which of your fics would you call your wildest ride? I don't really feel like any of my fics are particularly wild LMAO I mean I tend to be more invested in the kind of emotional angst that happens in the cracks of domesticity, so all my fics are set in the more tranquil periods of canon.

if you want a true ride you are welcome to read my full-length Umbrella Academy Spec Script I wrote during the pandemic asfdxfchgsev but I guess I would maybe pick Air Catcher for this, if only because of the tonal whiplash I tried to embody, as Louis and Lestat go from the rush of hardcore fucking to the vulnerability of soft gentle aftercare, to just the most devastating emotional low that comes with the drop. I think I used the metaphor of a slow-motion car crash in that fic and it just felt really apt because like, you can begin to see things going off the rails, but there's nothing anyone can do to fix it, so you're just kind of locked into this mess.

🎶 Do you listen to music while you write? What song have you been playing on loop lately? I would truly rather die than have a single noise going on as I'm trying to write LMAO in fact, I just invested in some nice ear plugs that have become very handy! My adhd brain gets so ridiculously distracted, even white noise or the sound of rain stresses me out when I'm trying to focus.

Also oh my god I'm not even fucking joking you, my #1 Spotify On Repeat song is God, That's Good from the Sweeney Todd Broadway Revival Cast Recording and listen I know no one cares but I'm going to gush about this song real quick anyway because LISTEN this song has never been a show-stopper, like it's more of a plot-heavy song, it's the opening number to Act II so it's just after A Little Priest (which we all know is hands-down the best song in all of Sweeney Todd), but God, That's Good, is not only an olympic feat of orchestration and chorus work, but there are so many moments between Sweeney and Lovett that just make my heart so happy.

Like, the entire second half of the song revolves around Sweeney actually being upset that Mrs. Lovett isn't paying him enough attention, so it's a really funny switch on their regular dynamic. He keeps calling her over to look at his Special Chair and she's like "dude I got a shop full of customers" and he replies "don't you CARE?!" like idk I think it's a really delightful little tableau of their two characters, and I just love it so much.

[jazzy-a]

I'd like to get to know you!

Hey @windsweptinred! Thanks for the invite!

1: Three ships I like right now...

Hmm, let's assume this means "ship-ships" and not family or friendships, right? Because, WOOF, would we be here for awhile.

Kaz Brekker/Jesper Fahey from Shadow and Bone. It breaks my heart, it ain't ever ever gonna happen, the book apparently spits on me and rips my heart out of my chest, and it's now difficult to find the kind of fanfiction I want for it... Oh sweet suffering. (I will also always accept Kaz/Inej/Jesper in this equation).

Tsukitachi/Hirato from Karneval. Look, it's NOT going away for me, guys. Yes, I know the fandom is dead, there is 0 content for it, and no one knows/cares what I'm talking about with them. Which is SO sad honestly because I know that if it were just more popular, people would be having a blast with the characters, plots, pairings etc. Sigh... Alas, though, Rosencrantz and Gildenstern are DEAD AF... Still, I love my BFF Captains, even if no one knows they exist but me lol.

Lastly, probably Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson? They have... pretty great fics, guys. As in some true 'chef's kiss' grade smut lol.

2: First Ever Ship... Puppyshipping (Seto Kaiba/Joey Wheeler) from Yu-gi-oh 100%. Closely followed by Dragonshipping... who.. um, guys, is practically canon if you rewatch it, which I think is hilarious. Like, WATCH THE DARK SIDE OF DIMENSIONS MOVIE. OMG. Joey gets saved by this man and is legit trying not to sob to Yugi over the fact he was in love with his alter ego bahhahahahah. Anyway though, just something about puppyshipping.... the low hanging fruit of it, I never stood a chance. Like OMG, it was my GATEWAY DRUG! Do I see how unrealistic and problematic it is as a grow woman? You bet I do... do I look back on it fondly? It is my first love <3

3: Last song.... Hm. About Love by MARINA. So pretty and nice to hear her newer stuff. And, NO, I didn't find it from the movie everyone keeps talking about. I never saw it, I found this the old fashion way... hearing it on the radio at my place of employment lol.

4: Last Movie.... Lephrechaun 4: IN SPACE! HAHAKJBKJBASJKBD I am watching ALL of them for the first time, and they are so so beautiful. Like...SO BAD. SO GOOD!!!!!

5: Currently reading... Um, like, ALL the family feels fanfiction of the TMNT 2012 brothers I can get my hands on. Can't stress enough that I am NOT shipping this. FA-MI-LY fics, okay?? Family is my weakness! Why do you think I love talking about Dream's messed up family and making my own crack content??

6: Currently watching... Actually, I'm finally going back and watching ALL of Steven Universe because I never did when it aired. I remember it getting really heavy and, at the time, I just didn't have the emotional bandwidth for it. Now, however, I am literally chugging its traumatic plot lines like I'm rushing at a frat house. Sobbing the entire time alone in my room. Loving EVERY second of it hahah!

7: Currently eating... Nothing :c

8: Currently Craving... Not gonna lie. I'd murder for a muffin rn. Oh, and more fanfiction of like... everything I have on my docket. Like...please? I need it like oxygen? On a desert island, I would request food, water, and more fanfiction.

And now for the embarrassing moment where I display how little I actually have on this app. Tagging some people that have been on my wall lately :) (no pressure!): @purplexiasphinx, @crxssingtherubic0n, @turrondeluxe, @synnesai

[badassbuchanan]

Call for Assistance

Request: Hi hi! Idk if you write for Seb or not but if you do, maybe could you do a fic where reader is his assistant and sometimes that means assisting him with ~those~ needs 👉👈🥺

Warnings: smut; oral (male receiving), dirty talk, semi-public.

Word Count: 2246

a/n: I’m sorry the ending is so cheesy lmao - requests and taglist are open!

“There you are.” I smiled brightly as I walked into Sebastian’s private dressing room, throwing my Gucci purse on to the velvet armchair in the corner of the room.

Tonight he was a special guest on The Tonight Show starring Jimmy Fallon, it was one of the only talk shows he didn’t mind doing. Tonight’s appearance was part of the publicity schedule for new The Falcon and The Winter Soldier series, but unfortunately, Mackie wasn’t able to attend.

I knew how nervous Seb got doing these interviews without his colleague beside him, which is why I wasn’t surprised when I was beckoned to his dressing room before he was set to go on.

Seb turned from where he was preping himself in the reflection of the mirror, a smile of relief appearing on his face when he saw me.

He was sporting a simple crisp white shirt, buttoned up with a navy tie around his neck. A black, open suit jacket and matching pants hugged his body nicely, complimenting his skin tone. His hair was slicked back and I could tell he hadn’t shaved today just by the slightest bit of stubble growing through his face.

“You feeling okay?” I asked innocently, walking over to stand in front of him as I patted down his chest to get rid of any dust which may have settled there.

His whole week was a full of press interviews and I knew exactly how much he’d be dreading it. He worked himself up and overthought everything, and he got real touchy when he was nervous.

Sebastian wrapped his arms around my waist softly, head dropping as he whined into my neck. I chuckled lightly, unable to hide the smile which covered my face as I ran a hand through his hair lightly. “It’s just part of the job, you know that. and you love your job.”

“Why do you have to be right all the time?” He mumbled against my skin, a smile curling on his lips in amusement. Seb leaned his head back against the wall behind him, peering down at me with a cheeky smile.

He looked fucking hot. Too hot.

“Because one of us has to be.” I raised an eyebrow and smiled up at him in admiration, my chest pressed against his as I played with the back of his hair, careful not to mess it up.

I could smell his aftershave and it was intoxicating. “C’mere.” He gestured me closer with his head, causing me to move my face closer to his. “Help me relax.”

Seb took my lips with his, kissing me softly as he pulled my hips forward to rub against him.

I nodded as I kissed him back softly, tilting my head to give him more access. I part my lips slightly, letting my tongue gently run over his bottom lip.

Seb let out a grunt that vibrated from his throat, taking the lead as he glides his tongue teasingly into my mouth.

I let my other hand glide up touch his chest over the steamed shirt, feeling the definition of body. I sighed in satisfaction, deliberately palming over his nipples as my hand moved across the material of the shirt.

Sebastian moaned into my mouth, his kisses passionate and needy. It soon became too much, my clit twitching when I felt his hard cock pressing against my body.

I leaned my head back, my eyes dropping to the space where our crotches are rubbing together. I noticed his big cock straining against the material of his pants, desperate for attention.

“You like it when I touch your nipples, hm?” I asked sweetly, my hand roaming further down his chest to his toned stomach.

“Yeah.” Seb let out in a desperate grunt, his hips bucking to mine as I leaned in again, this time leaving gentle kisses down his neck.

I let out a little whine, causing vibrations to erupt against the skin of his neck. “Seb.” I nipped at his sensitive skin, feeling him buck his hips again as I moved my hand to the waistband of his pants.

Seb’s hands moved up to my waist, over my back and around to my tummy, just under my boobs as he gripped on the black lacy material of my top. “Off.” He whined with a pout.

“I can’t, bub.” I sighed sadly, pouting back as I used the pet name to soften him up. I skilfully unbuttoned his pants before lowering my hand inside, feeling my way into his underwear as I looked up into his gorgeous eyes. “It’s a bodysuit.”

Sebastian whined again out of frustration, unable to get what he wanted before he came up with the perfect solution. He tugged on the material each side of the low cut ‘v’ shape between my cleavage, adjusting it so that it rest under either side of my boobs, my tits now on full display for him.

“That’s better.” Seb smiled proudly, satisfied with himself as he cupped my tits in his hands, massaging them as my nipples harden under his touch.

My fingers wrapped around his cock as I kissed the base of his neck, pumping him slowly whilst collecting precum from his tip. Seb was big, but he looked even bigger with my tiny hand wrapped around him.

I leaned back with a smile, watching him play with my chest as his eyes focused on my tits. He tugged harshly on my pebbled nipples with his rough fingers. I bit my lip, fucking his cock with my hand as I felt myself getting wet.

I moved my lips millimeters away from his, our breaths meeting as we pant against each other. “M‘not gunna last, darling.” Seb whimpered out, his eyes looked up to gaze into mine.

“S’okay,” I squeak out reassuringly, lust taking over as my palm feels every vein on his cock. “You feel so good in my hand.”

“I wanna cum in your mouth.” Seb admitted in a mumble, his hands tugging on my sides to pull me down. I knew he was getting desperate from the way he was starting to talk dirty.

I kept my hand wrapped around him inside his pants as I got down on my knees in front of him. I shuffled close to him, Seb helped push his trousers down, out of the way, so that his cock could spring up freely.

I licked my lips, wasting no time guiding his tip towards my mouth with my hand. I kissed his leaking tip, swirling my tongue around it as Seb gasped loudly at the feeling of my hot mouth on him.

I hummed around his tip, still pumping his shaft with my hand as his hands moved to the back of my hair, guiding me further down on him.

Seb’s eyes closed tightly, a hiss escaping his clenched jaw as I replaced my hand with my mouth, taking him all in.

I moaned around his length, trying not to choke as I breath shallowly. My hands rested on his thick thighs, saliva escaping the corner of my mouth as I wait for him to take control.

But he doesn’t, he’s too fucked out, too close to even move. I could tell by the way his chest was rising and falling so uneven, trying his best to keep it together. Sweat was building on his forehead and above his parted lips, his eyes only opening when I started to bob my head up and down his length.

I flattened my tongue, relaxing my throat so I could fuck his cock with my mouth. I looked up at Seb, eyes so hooded he almost looked drunk, his hands dropping from my head weakly as his head dropped back against the wall behind him.

His eyes were fixed on the ceiling, he didn’t want to cum. It felt too good. He loved the way my lips felt so soft moving up and down his length. My mouth so warm and welcoming for him.

It sent me crazy seeing him like this, desperate to make him cum, to please him. I swallowed around his length, keeping him deep inside as my tongue flicked rapidly against the underside of his shaft.

My fingers traced ever so slightly over his balls, immediately causing him to cum with one final moan, spilling his load into my mouth. I pulled my head back, opening my mouth wide as he shot every single drop of his cum inside.

I watched his cock twitch, his eyes now glued on my mouth as I swallowed all of him.

Seb tried to calm himself down as I stood back up, tucking my boobs back into my top before helping him re-do his pants back up, his cock safely inside.

“You relaxed now?” I asked softly, looking up into his blown out eyes as he admired me with a nod.

“So relaxed.” Seb leaned in to mumble against my lips, making me smile against him as my arms wrapped around his neck.

“I’m glad to hear it, mister.” I replied sweetly, pecking his lips over and over.

“Mr Stan.” A voice called from beyond the door, startling us both with how loud they knocked.

“Mmh, maybe I’m still a little stressed.” Seb mumbled between kisses, making me giggle at the audacity he had to ignore whoever was knocking.

“Sebastian!” I used his full name to notify him of the seriousness of the situation, leaning my head back as I smile up at him in adoration.

“You’re on, Mr Stan.” The person decided to call out again anyway, hoping that someone inside would be paying attention.

“Guess it’s showtime.” He pouted slightly, stealing another kiss before he let go of me. “Thanks for coming to see me.”

“Thanks for coming.” I respond with an innocent smile, my cheeky comment catching Seb’s attention as his head swings around with a smirk.

“Just you wait till I’m done with this interview.” He shook his head, chuckling in amusement at my remark as he opens the door, taking one last glance back at me, which was when I noticed it. My heart sunk.

“Oh wait, Seb-“ I called out but it was too late. He’d gone. I didn’t get to tell him. Oh well. No one would notice right? Not a single one of the national viewers would notice the lipstick on his lips and neck, right?

———————- LIVE ON THE AIR ————————

“So Sebastian, we’ve talked about the new show, the friendships and behind the scenes mayhem, the travelling, even the amount of lube needed to get into your costume.” Jimmy cracked the joke as he started speaking, crossing his arms as he lent back in his chair.

“That’s right.” Seb nodded shyly, speaking unnecessarily to amuse himself with a little smirk as he became more comfortable in the interview.

“But one thing I think everyone is dying to know,” Jimmy continued, building suspense as he swivelled in his chair towards the audience, gesturing for them to nod in encouragement.

“Okay.” Seb dragged the word out slowly, anticipating what it could be as he sat up a little straighter in the armchair. He chuckled nervously, tugging on his jacket to straighten it.

“Is how exactly those lipstick marks on your neck got to be there.” Jimmy said in a wonderfully sarcastic tone, eyebrows raised as the audience cheered loudly.

Seb suddenly stopped all of his movements, trying to keep a straight face as the crowd kept on cheering. He stared at Jimmy, who was now giggling like a little school girl.

Seb caved after a couple of seconds, laughing loudly as he leaned forward to cover his face with embarrassment of being called out.

“And Sebastian,” Jimmy continued as Seb regained his posture, sucking in his cheeks and sitting up straight as he tried to get rid of his guilty smile, faking a frown of concentration.

“Yeah?” Seb answered shyly, letting out a nervous cough as his face twitched back into a smile momentarily.

“I couldn’t help but notice that Y/N is here with you tonight.” Jimmy’s words make my heart drop as a spotlight points me out in the audience.

My eyes go wide, but I can’t help but laugh as everyone cheers loudly. I cover my mouth, watching Seb able to do nothing but clap for me from the stage.

“So.” Jimmy dragged out the word in a high pitched voice. “am I right in suggesting that Y/N might’ve visited your dressing room before the show?”

Seb smirked, rubbing his hand over his mouth, his silence hid nothing considering the fact that his face completely gave it away. There was no point in him denying it.

I covered my face with my hands, utterly shocked that we had been called out on national television.

“Yeah.” Seb let out in a shaky breath, a beaming smile on his face as he chuckled from embarrassment too, his tongue running over his bottom lip.

The audience clapped, screeched and cheered at his answer, making me want to disappear in my chair.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Jimmy called out as the audience continued cheering us on. “Mr Sebastian Stan and Miss Y/N Y/L/N.”

And just like that, the cat was out of the bag. The many rumours confirmed. The many fans who shipped us would be tweeting, we’d probably be trending in an hour. I guess I’d just have to convince his publicist that we did it as a stunt.

I promised myself that after that, I was never going to attempt any kind of sexual activity in a public place again. But I knew that was a lie.

taglist:

@harrysthiccthighss

@annestine

@bestofbucky

@be-patient-be-good​

[thefanficmonster]

My Kind

Corpse Husband x Reader (Female)

Warning: Swearing

Genre: Fluff, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: Having been chosen by the gang to be a guest streamer on today’s stream of Among Us, it’s safe to say Y/N’s super excited but also a bit nervous. The whole of her anxiety gets lifted off her when she meets someone with the exact same vibe as hers - yeah you guessed it.

Requested by @monizzle96 Hi dear! Thank you so much for your wonderful request! I’m so terribly sorry it’s taken me so long to write and post it but here it finally is! I hope you come across it and read it and if so I hope you enjoy it! Love, Vy ❤

This has to be the fiftieth time I’ve checked my setup in the past twenty four hours. But no, I’m definitely not nervous, what are you talking about. Pshhh. Nah, being nervous isn’t in my brand. Plus, what do I have to make me nervous - a group of famous streamers inviting me onto their stream to play Among Us with them because they enjoyed my own streams? Ok yeah, that’s a pretty good reason. Not gonna lie, I almost chucked my phone out of excitement when I received that DM from Toast, telling me they’d picked me to be their guest streamer for today’s date. My stomach was doing somersaults for a good forty-eight hours following that text and then the anxiety slowly started setting in fueled by the expectations they probably have of me.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not inexperienced in the streaming field, I’ve been a streamer longer than some of the members of Toast’s streamer gang actually. But I never managed to garner that big of a following which I’m honestly quite ok with. I have a modest - ok, maybe larger than modest - following consisting of incredibly loyal fans which I will never stop being grateful for. They are all so respectable of me, my privacy and my boundaries. They know the main rules: no shit-talking in the chat or in any of my comment sections, no bashing other YouTubers in my comments/chat, and most definitely not asking for a face reveal. Fun fact: I didn’t even set up that last rule, they all just collectively know not to ask for it. 

I’ve been keeping my brand pretty low-key to avoid garnering some unwanted attention - some of which I’ve already experienced on certain social media platforms following the full body pictures I posted on there - face not visible of course. I tend to also have my webcam on, facing towards my hands working away on the keyboard sometimes when I stream. I don’t know why people obsess over faceless content creators’ hands, but I appreciate the enthusiasm - it also drives me to do a manicure every now and then which ain’t so bad, self-care and all that you know.

Now, back to the subject of my ridiculous nervousness.

You see, it has layers.

I’m nervous of ‘preforming’ underwhelmingly and I’m nervous of what my own fans will think of the person I will become during this stream. They know me as a super chill and laid-back person, which I am by the way, but they might think I’m putting on a show if I exhibit any nervous gestures/vocabulary. I highly doubt they would, but the possibility is not letting my mind rest. And now that it’s about ten minutes till the stream starts, I’m getting doing my best to calm my nerves.

They are all just people. You know they are super chill too. Just be yourself, that’s why they invited you, because you are yourself on all your streams. They liked you for your personality, humor, maybe even your gaming skills. So chill the hell out and be yourself, damn it!

Easier thought than put into action that’s for sure.

I start my stream five minutes early just so I can vibe with my viewers for a little while before I have to meet the gang. My fans always have a way of injecting me with confidence, they remind me of where I was when I started and how far I’ve come. How much I achieved when I thought I’d be nothing and no one, someone the algorithm would simply overlook. But then they entered my life and I entered theirs and it all became much better than I ever thought it would get to be. I rarely tell myself ‘good job’ for the milestones I’ve reached or the hard work I’ve put into my content, but that’s probably cause I orient myself based on that quote from the movie Whiplash: ‘There are no two words in the English language more harmful than good job’ - simply put, I’m never satisfied with what I do and I always strive to do better. My fans, however, make sure I don’t go overboard with it - always serving as a reminder that I’ve done plenty for myself and others. And that’s what makes an amazing fandom, one I consider family.

Whoa, when did those five minutes fly by?!

Ah shit, here we go. Deep breaths, Y/N you got this.

“Hello!“ I say as I enter the Discord call, subconsciously biting my lower lip, grateful the camera isn’t capturing it. However, I make a mental note to keep my hands steady cause that’s the one part of me people can actually see and the last thing I want is for them to see how much my fingers are trembling.

“Oh hi, Y/N!“ Toast is the first one to greet me, “Welcome to the stream! Thank you so much for accepting our invitation.“

“Thank you for having me and inviting me, Toast. This is a huge deal for me. You guys are basically YouTube legends, this is unreal to me.“ I reply, cringing immediately afterwards because of my fangirl rambling. Great way to make first impressions, Y/N. Bravo.

To be fair, they already have an impression of you. Quit stressing.

Aright, you’ve got a point, me.

“Oh please, we owe all that to our fans. We’re really nothing special. All streamers are almost completely alike, we all owe where we are to the people who helped us make it there - our fans. We’re no legends.“ Toast says, bringing a small smile to my face as well as a light pink blush to my cheeks, “And from what I’ve seen, you yourself have quite the following. And your fans seem to adore you.“

“And I absolutely adore them.“ I chuckle, “They mean the world to me. They are the reason I’m here today.”

“Then we have to give them a special thank you, don’t you think?“ The teasing, familiar giggle, widens my smile - it’s Rae, “Nice to meet you, Y/N! I’m Rae, and, no cap, I’m quite a fan of your content. No joke, I binged your entire series of Resident Evil 7 as soon as I found your channel when Toast said he’d invite you.“

This rattles me a bit. I can hardly believe it - am I really receiving a compliment from an A-list name in the streaming world? My fans must be hella proud of me right now. A quick glance at my chat confirms that they indeed are. That in and of itself fills me with joy and newfound confidence.

“Oh Gosh, thank you so much Rae! That means the world to me. You’re all so sweet.“ I reply, lifting my ice cold hands to cool down my burning cheeks, my lips spread into a grin, my stomach filled with butterflies.

“Oh please, we have some real savages around here.“ A male voice, seemingly Charlie’s scoffs, “Don’t overlook us please.“

“Wait, we do?“ A deep voice, one I immediately know the owner of speaks up, “Who? How come I don’t know about that?“

I can’t help bust snort, “Nice to meet you, Corpse. Sarcasm central, I see.”

He laughs, “Just returning it to where it’s due. Nice to meet you too, Y/N. Sick Outlast series, by the way.“

Ok, wait, I have two A-list streamers complimenting my content. Ok, I’m bound to crack open a few beers to celebrate later cause OH MY GOD.

“Thanks! I’m a horror junkie so I’d be lying if I said I haven’t binge watched all your story-times. Personal favorites are the deep web ones, they fascinate me.“

“Oh, you’re one of my kind even more than I expected, huh?“ He replies, the tone of his voice changing, raising a bit due to what I can only describe as excitement and enthusiasm. “I’ve had people tell me it’s twisted, but I really like seeing the lengths to which the fucked up human mind can go to. Like, the shit I’ve read is insane! Some stories I didn’t narrate cause I would’ve probably had my video taken down, it was that messed up.“

My eyes widen, sharing the same excitement at the thought of digging deeper into this phenomenon, “Careful, Corpse, you’re walking a dangerous line of tempting me to deep-dive on Reddit in search of those exact stories.”

“No need.“ Corpse says, his tone now taking up a bit of a cocky note, “I still got them all saved, I can send them to you no problem.“

“Please do! I seriously gotta read them now. If I can’t sleep afterwards, I’m blaming you, Corpse. Just FYI.“ I say, giggling slightly, finding myself all but completely comfortable now. I wonder where all that anxiety went? 

“Blame fully taken. Given that I’m not much of a sleeper, I’ll keep you company whenever you think there’s a killer hiding in your closet or fear a red room pop-up will appear on your computer screen.“ He replies, chuckling.

“Um, that’s oddly specific.“ Charlie comments, “Been there yourself, buddy?”

“Perhaps.“ Corpse wheezes, getting a laugh out of me too, “I will neither confirm nor deny.“

“You know what, I’ll just private message you my number so if you see it call you at some ungodly hour, you don’t freak the fuck out. Sounds good?“ I ask, already prepping to type it out and send it to him. 

“Perfect. Wait...“ he pauses for a second, sounding puzzled for a second, “You don’t have mine.“

“Oh, do I not?“ I reply with a sinister tone - thought to answer the question, I of course don’t have his number.

“Oh, do you?“ He sasses me right back. “If so then you don’t need me to send it to you. Cool.“

Ah, shit

“Wait, no! I-I need to confirm it’s the correct one!“

Damn, never did I think I’d be complimented by some of the most important streamers on this platform, but to get a number of theirs too? That’s a whole another level that will take me time to process. But I’ll do that another time, right now, I have to kick these people’s butts in Among Us and later I have some deep web stories to read.

Turns out, all it takes to get comfortable in a new surrounding is someone of your kind. And Corpse is definitely one of my kind.

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[melis-writes]

Eyes like Stars [Bobby Axel x Reader Multi-chapter, 18+ Smut] Chapter 9 - Intimacy.

Read on AO3 / Read Chapter 8 [AO3] / [Tumblr] / Chapter Masterlist. / Fic Playlist.

18+, explicit smut, multi-chapter read.

"You don’t know what you do to me. I want you in every way." / “Don’t leave me. Thought…maybe you would."

Exhaustion, stress, frustration–all remedied in your boyfriend's arms. The emotional attachment growing between you and Bobby hits an all time high, and if it isn't a need to be with you all the time, Bobby has slipped onto a full out addiction before your very eyes. Tonight you come to the realization that the Bobby you took home after his release has once again found himself slipping through the cracks, only this time he's taking you down with him into dysfunction and the only way he knew how to live.

[WARNINGS]: Mentions & themes of drug use / Heroin usage & highs / Masturbation / Handjobs / Sex while high / Heavy smut and fluff / Oral sex.

[AUTHOR'S NOTE]: A chapter built on and dedicated to the intimacy between Bobby and the reader, it's a shorter one than the previous chapters but since the fic is building up nicely (and writer's block hates that), I've decided to cut down on the length of each chapter to be able to have more time to write + upload it! 💖 I'm focusing more on each and every scene instead of tackling on lengthy fics/oneshots all at the same time and love how chapter 9 turned out! 😳 Now this is a chapter just filled with smut and fluff, hence the title name which says it all. Sex while high (established between Bobby and Emily as consensual) and drug usage is prominent in this chapter as a heads up.

Bobby’s release from prison marks the end of his and Helen’s relationship and you find yourself spending more time with Bobby and taking care of him after everything he’s been through. Working and living in Manhattan as a college drop-out, you distance yourself from Helen who Bobby and you take solace with one another in hopes to get out of the toxic lifestyle of drug use—promising each other to start a new life with one another and get clean. Falling in love with Bobby, you experience a mutual, passionate and loving relationship with its own highs and lows that promises to bloom into something more serious but also can threaten to collapse. As Bobby’s new girlfriend, your relationship hangs on a thread with old skeletons coming back into Bobby’s life, relapses, and a new panic on the horizon that threatens to undo it all.

[Evening Hours.]

Just as your high faded after eight hours of being on the nod, so did the sense that you couldn’t possibly be exhausted from the onset of your workday.

The rest of your shift came and went like the wind after Bobby left, and if it wasn’t for him preparing lunch for you today, not only would you have forgotten to eat anything, but your dose killed your appetite almost outright.

Running on nothing but today’s lunch from earlier, you start to feel the effects of restlessness and exhaustion hit you. You never came close to assuming it’s a result of the beginning of your drug use.

Ignorant in the most blissful way possible, you refuse to even entertain the thought of being addicted to anything. Just like your marijuana use, heroin is just something you “chip” on, as Bobby said.

Slowly, your drug usage, the amount, and where you use begins to heavily rely on Bobby’s advice and words of affirmation to you about it. 

Had you gotten caught fucking him in the bathroom at work earlier today, you could have easily been fired, let alone arrested, if someone saw you shooting up before that. Still, there wasn’t an inch of you that cared or even thought about the consequences.

Your mind always lingered on what your high was going to feel like if Bobby was going to score for the two of you or vice versa, and your boyfriend in general. 

Whether it’s actually Bobby or the heroin that makes you ignore your responsibilities and the concept of consequence doesn’t matter to you now either. 

You’ve never felt more alive than you had before. You weren’t using anything out of stress or self-pity, but just because you could—because you wanted to—because Bobby did, and in a way, enjoyed doing so and would rather have you shoot up with him safely to past the time.

Humming quietly to yourself, you look up in the bathroom mirror before you as you continue combing through your blow-dried hair—having just stepped out of the shower ten minutes ago and washed the day off of you.

Your eyes flicker to the fresh injection site beginning to bruise over your arm. You let out a soft sigh, gently tracing it with your finger to feel a sense of soreness go through you.

Not much bothered by it knowing it’ll be easy to cover up and heal, you turn on the tap to lukewarm water and clean off your wrist with some antibacterial soap before drying off.

With the evening setting in and the day at its end, you’re able to relax your mind knowing you’ll be curling up in Bobby’s arms throughout the night. It’ll be a much-needed distraction from the thought of going to work tomorrow morning that never seems that bad with you snuggling Bobby.

You set down your hairbrush on the bathroom counter and fix your hair up into a messy bun before pulling open the bathroom door to step back out into the bedroom in just your bra and panties.

Quiet, serene, and dark, with the bedroom window slightly opened to let in some cool air, only the chirping of crickets outside can be heard from where you stand.

The sight and sound of Bobby in the bedroom immediately catches you off guard as you lean your hand against the bathroom doorway, eyes widening to spot him just across from you.

Bobby leans his back against his propped-up pillow upon the headboard as he’s sprawled out over the bed and under the covers in a pair of sweatpants and his white beater shirt. 

Bobby’s head is slightly tilted back against the headboard, his shirt riding up his stomach, eyes lazily half-open, and his full, pouty lips pursed open with his cigarette dangling loosely from the corner of his mouth.

A breathy moan escapes Bobby’s lips as he grips his cock in one hand, steadily stroking his cock in a slow rhythm with his sweatpants and briefs tugged down just enough. 

The night lamp next to Bobby remains dimly lit, enough for you to see just how soaked his cock is from his own precum and arousal hitting its peak.

‘Bobby?’ Your face stings red from blush as you suddenly feel your knees growing weak at what you see before you. 

Clutching onto the doorway in surprise, you can’t help but watch the erotic sight as Bobby continues to touch himself. 

Bobby’s slender fingers, firm hands that are bigger than yours, are wrapped around his cock insistently, wanting to pleasure himself over and over again.

Bobby takes a deep drag out of his cigarette with his free hand, gazing down at his cock as he watches more droplets of precum form over his tip. “Mm…”

Bobby’s breathy little moans are enough to make you clench your legs from a sudden surge of arousal. The carefree, erotic sight of Bobby pleasuring himself without even being aware that you’re watching him is one you can get used to seeing.

“Shit—mm,” Bobby groans quietly, slicking his precum over his shaft as he blows out his cigarette smoke under his breath. 

Flustered and flushing red, you slowly begin to move towards the bed and catch Bobby’s attention, only causing him to stroke his cock faster at the sight of you. 

“Emily,” Bobby moans out your name—his eyes following you around the room. “Em…”

‘Fuck, fuck, fuck.’ You bite down on your lip to see Bobby quicken his pace. His hand easily sliding up and down his soaked cock as you kneel upon the bed and crawl over. 

All you can hear is the sound of Bobby stroking himself, the grip of his hand coming into contact with his waist. Bobby’s completely lubed up by his own arousal and dirty thoughts of you and you alone.

“C’mere, baby.” Bobby squeezes his eyes shut for a moment, moaning again as his muscles tense up. 

Not only can you tell Bobby’s been pleasuring himself since you’ve been in the shower, but that he’s heavily aroused and lost in the feeling of his orgasm building up to its limit.

“C’mere…” Just the sight of seeing those firm hands wrapped around his cock, pumping himself while gazing at you and wanting you close is enough to make your pussy throb with arousal. “Emily…”

You looked forward to cuddling up for the evening and calling it a night, but with Bobby before you, you’re no longer surprised how your body tells you that you need him over everything else right now.

It’s your arousal that builds your boldness as you kneel onto the bed and over to Bobby’s side. Eyes filled with lust and locked on each other’s; you waste no time in leaning over to Bobby; clenching the covers with one hand while pulling your bra off of your breasts with the other.

Bobby’s attention shifts to your breasts as his eyes dart from your chest to your lips. He shakily attempts to take the cigarette out of his mouth with his free hand before you reach out your hand and gently slip it out from between his lips.

“Mm,” Bobby groans as you press your forehead up against his.

Heart racing in your chest and excitement surging through you from how aroused you’ve gotten, you almost crush the tip of Bobby’s cigarette as you’re more than eager to put it out upon the ashtray next to him.

In an instant, you move your hand back to replace Bobby’s over his cock, and as Bobby blows the last of his cigarette smoke into your mouth, your lips collide over his. 

Bobby moans in your mouth out of reaction, letting you completely take over. He bucks his hips up and squeezes his eyes shut at your touch—unable to hide how good your hand feels wrapped around his cock.

You can practically feel Bobby’s cock throbbing in your hand as you smear his precum all over your palm as you continue pumping him from shaft to tip. 

The tip of Bobby’s cock remains flushed pink from built-up arousal, slightly curved in shape with the vein in his shaft bulging. 

You taste cigarettes over Bobby’s full lips—completely in control of his pleasure and ensnared in his deep kiss.

Your heart races inside your chest—fighting the urge to straddle Bobby and ride his cock from how horny you’ve gotten just at the idea of Bobby playing with himself, just waiting for you to notice.

More spurts of Bobby’s precum oozes down his shaft as he loses himself in your kiss, desperate for every second your lips come into contact with his. 

The kiss you two share is lazy but loving and needy in every way, demanding more by the minute.

You can practically hear the sloppy slicking sound of you jerking off Bobby, and with no change of pace other than he’s moved his body closer to yours, you know Bobby’s inching closer to his climax.

Just as you’ve picked up a rhythm and noticed Bobby squeezing his eyes shut, you slow your movements before coming to a complete halt—breaking apart the kiss. 

Bobby breathes out heavily, his eyes fluttering open and gazing back at you lazily in surprise. Silence fills the room as the two of you look at each other, and you pull your hand back. 

Bobby’s lips glisten from your wet kiss under the dim lighting in the room, and he remains still only a moment longer before he leans in closer to you—pressing his forehead against yours.

“I want you so bad,” Bobby speaks out in an ushered, husky tone as he grasps your hips with both hands, pressing you down on your side.

“Please,” you find yourself pleading as Bobby’s hands toy with the fabric of your panties.

Now laying on your side upon the bed with Bobby pressed up against your back, you can feel the tip of his soaked cock pressing against your ass. 

Blushing furiously, you clench the bedsheets with one hand as Bobby pulls your panties down to your ankles—gentle and patient with his movements as he’s still riding off his remaining high.

“Mm,” Bobby plants a wet kiss over your back, massaging your shoulders with one hand as he eases your legs open with the other. 

Bobby’s slender fingers rub over your back tenderly—his hot touch coaxing out every bit of tension from your muscles as Bobby presses his torso up against your back. “I want you.”

“Take me.” You let out a soft whine as your pussy lips part from spreading your legs open. 

You lean your head back against Bobby’s shoulder and give an impatient nod, knowing now there’s nothing more you want than to feel every inch of Bobby in you, stretching you open.

Bobby licks down the palm of his free hand, lubricating his fingers with his spit before palming your pussy and spreading it open. Soft little moans escape your lips as Bobby raises your thigh up and continues to play with your clit.

You can feel yourself growing wetter with every touch, desperate to feel those slender fingers slicking into the folds of your pussy, again and again, to get you ready for Bobby’s cock. 

Bobby leaves a trail of hot, wet kisses alongside the nape of your neck and down to your shoulders—rock hard from his own arousal.

Bobby teasingly taps the tip of his cock around your pussy’s entrance and slicks a careful finger in first—curling it inside of you before gripping his hands on your hips and ass to position his cock inward.

You bite down on the corner of your lip, insistently pushing your hips back down against Bobby’s cock. Just the sensation of him pushing in his tip and breathing hotly against your shoulder is enough to send a frenzy of arousal coursing through you.

Needy but patient, Bobby eases all eight inches of his thick length inside of you slowly, thrusting in as much as you can. Moans fall from your lips as your pussy grows accustomed to Bobby’s girth, and Bobby begins to rock your body against his in slow yet passionate sex.

The two of you don’t speak out but understand every bit of meaning towards each other. Bobby trails the tip of his nose alongside the outline of your jawline and down your back as he continues a steady rhythm of thrusting inside of you—adoring and admiring every inch of your skin while he fucks you at the same time.

You cry out as the feeling of fullness slides in and out of your pussy; Bobby’s cock hitting each of your weak spots one by one. 

Breathy moans, heavy breathing, and quiet groaning fill the room from the two of you as Bobby watches his cock sliding in and out of your pussy with ease.

“B-Bobby,” you inhale shakily—feeling helpless to the wonderful sensation of your pussy beginning to convulse around Bobby’s cock.

“I need you, baby,” Bobby exhales deeply against your back, beginning to kiss back up towards your shoulder blades. “So, so bad… You don’t know what you do to me.” Bobby’s eyes flutter shut as he leaves a deep, lingering kiss upon the nape of your neck, “I-I want you in every way.”

A consuming sexual desire fills the both of you as Bobby begins to rub up and down your sensitive clit, toying with your pussy while continuing to keep his pace fucking you.

Making sure you take every inch of Bobby with every thrust; you can hardly even form a coherent sentence. Your lips remain parted open only to moan with both sensations of pleasure racking over your body at the same time.

Bobby’s thrusts hit hard and deep, and his eyes flicker over your body with possessive admiration. Obsessed with the blissful fucked expression over your face, you gladly give yourself into Bobby’s desire to continue teasing and pleasing you.

Bobby’s hair bounces over his forehead with every thrust—lost in pure erotica inside of you. The orgasm steadily building inside of you grows more and more demanding, deliciously painful as every muscle in your body begins to clench.

On the tipping point of his own orgasm, Bobby refuses to cum in you until he pleases you first. 

“B-Bobby, Bobby!” You moan out Bobby’s name several times. “Yes, yes!”

Taking that as a green light, Bobby continues pummelling his cock into your pussy as you roll your hips back at him. Your clit aches, and your body begs for each and every thrust as Bobby’s groans grow as loud as yours.

“Emily,” Bobby moans out, grunting as he feels you cumming over his cock.

Whining and squealing, you let your orgasm wash over you and tingle throughout every inch of your body as your moans echo into the room.

“Oh, fuck! Bobby! I’m cumming!” The sweet sensation of your orgasm takes over you as Bobby’s body trembles against yours.

“’ Atta girl—oh fuck yes,” Bobby’s breathing deepens as he pulls out just in time—surprised he was able to in the first place. 

“Mm!” You gasp as you feel Bobby’s length being pulled out of you. 

The tip of Bobby’s cock slicks between the folds of your pussy, and a dozen spurts of his hot, sticky cum land over your stomach and lower torso. “Ahhhh, fuck…!”

Feeling your own cum and wetness oozing out of your pussy, you pant and clutch onto Bobby’s hands wrapped around your thighs as you attempt to catch your breath.

“I love you,” you hear Bobby murmur out as he pulls you into his embrace and back to facing him. “I love you…”

You let out a breathy giggle, gently cupping Bobby’s cheeks before planting a kiss over his lips. “I love you more than you could ever know.”

Bobby cracks a smile—feeling the last of his high begin to fade as he steals a few more kisses from your mouth. “Kiss me again.”

“Gladly,” you breathe over Bobby’s lips—the stickiness of his cum over your hips oozing back onto Bobby’s cock as you crawl overtop to straddle him.

Bobby smirks against the sloppy, full-mouthed kiss you give him. He grasps his cock underneath you and taps it against your ass, bucking his hips up as you position yourself.

“Mm,” you hum into the kiss as you run your hands through Bobby’s silky, tousled hair—already beginning to feel the tip of his cock stretching into your pussy yet again.

You’re not even sure at this point if you’re ovulating, but you can neither bring yourself to think about anything else other than Bobby or care at the moment. 

Taken over by your relentless arousal begging for more, Bobby and you lock eyes and moan into each other’s mouth as you push your hips down and take his cock into your pussy once again.

~

Three rounds of back-to-back, needy sex barely satisfies you and Bobby after sharing a needle together. 

You both rode on highs throughout your second orgasm, feeling every sensation triple instantly until you and Bobby were both a sweaty, moaning mess under the sheets.

The flicker of a familiar flame you and Bobby went from growing used to seeing to almost desperate to feel its warmth lighted up what both of you knew you needed—what would get you going smoothly throughout the night.

Bobby worked with the heroin in his spoon delicately, careful not to spill a single drop. Everything was mixed, heated, and cautiously put into the syringe in mere minutes as if Bobby had done it over a thousand times, his fingers memorizing every movement.

Neither of you needed to search for a vein either anymore. Marks on your wrists easily showed where to feel for and quickly inject the needle, and that was that.

Bobby helped you shoot up first, sharing half of his syringe with you before taking the rest for himself. You let your shaky exhales relieve you back into bed as you lay down lazily, watching Bobby barely muster up the strength to put the syringe back onto the night table after taking his dose.

Half an hour passes as you both lay in each other’s arms quietly, caressing Bobby’s cheek, feeling his hands stroking through your hair before you feel Bobby’s erection brushing up against your inner thigh. 

Another round of relentless, sloppy sex fueled by arousal mixing with highs took over the two of you, and the bedroom filled with screams and moans of sheer erotic bliss. 

Even after fucking you, again and again, neediness grows in Bobby’s eyes again as his eyes begin to dart over your body. He looks at you in both aroused admiration and desperateness. 

You find yourself blushing, noticing Bobby’s gaze over your breasts as you slowly move the blankets downward for him. 

A faint smirk grows over Bobby’s lips as his hands make their way up to your shoulders. You gladly snuggle up to his side, feeling his slender fingers caressing every inch of your skin down your sides.

You shiver from Bobby’s touch, watching him leave lingering little kisses over your collarbones before kissing in-between your breasts.

Bobby peeks up at you momentarily—his face buried into your breasts—causing you to blush as you run your hands through his messy hair.

The only sound that fills the room is that of your soft breathing as Bobby keeps his gaze fixed on your eyes, parting his lips over your nipple before taking one in his mouth while cupping the other breast with his hand gently. 

In an instant, all notion of soft and slow movements change to erotic fever. Bobby’s tongue flickers over your hardened, sensitive nipple—causing you to cry out in pleasure.

You clamp a hand over your mouth to silence yourself but squeeze your eyes shut at the sensation of Bobby’s mouth toying with your breasts.

You clutch onto Bobby’s shoulder with your free hand, helplessly watching him suck over your nipple and squeeze your other breast before he trails his hot tongue over your stomach and down to your pussy.

Excitement begins to race through you as you eagerly spread your legs open for Bobby. Half covered by the blankets as he goes down on you, Bobby rubs your inner thighs and coaxes you to spread yourself as much as you can.

Bobby’s sudden sexual urge to please you turns you on even more as he catches you by surprise, and a breathy gasp escapes your mouth as you feel Bobby planting a wet kiss right over your clit.

Shaky moans fall from your lips as you feel Bobby’s tongue suckling sweetly over your clit. Bobby’s face is practically buried into your pussy, pressing all of his tongue and full mouth over your pussy.

Quivering with arousal, your knees grow weak, and you can hardly muster up the strength to clutch onto Bobby’s ruffled hair nor keep yourself quiet from the pleasure you receive.

Insistent and desperate to please you, Bobby raises his mouth from your pussy only momentarily to kiss all over your inner thighs as sloppily as you can before taking in your cent—causing you to cringe and blush out of embarrassment.

You moan loudly to feel the tip of Bobby’s nose trailing down your clit at a lazy pace, causing you to buck your hips up to his mouth. 

Bobby buries his face back into your mound from your reaction, his slender fingers keeping your pussy lips spread apart as he eats you out as if it would be the last time he’d ever taste your clit over his tongue again.

“Bobby, Bobby!” You groan out his name, obsessed with the sensation of his warm tongue slobbering all of your clit. 

Your sore pussy throbs against Bobby’s mouth as he focuses his attention over your clit; half of his spit oozing down your thighs and the other trickling inside of you. 

Enthralled by the perfect rhythm of Bobby’s tongue building up your sweet orgasm, you let out a half moan, half whine the second you feel Bobby’s stubble grazing up against your clit.

Strands of Bobby’s hair cling to his forehead as he continues to sloppily eat out your pussy, remaining relentless in the way he flicks his tongue up and down your clit even when Bobby feels your thighs shaking against him.

Each one of your moans is louder than the last as you feel your orgasm about hit its peak. A blissful sense of tingling weakness washes over your body a moment before, and you no longer have the energy to even keep a hand over your mouth.

Bobby hungrily presses his tongue against your clit and licks up your juices, trickling down your thighs. Sensing your orgasm oncoming when the way your pussy convulses around his mouth, Bobby only continues to press his face deeper into your mound.

“Oh my God, yes!” You shriek out in pleasure, feeling the explosive orgasm finally unwind inside of you—completely taking over.

Bobby refuses to pull back, catching every little trickle of your cum oozing out of your pussy and onto his tongue. Still having his hot mouth pressed up against your pussy while your orgasm rides out over you doubles the heavenly sensation.

“B-Bobby, fuck… Fuck,” you breathe out as your heart thunders against your chest.

Your face stings red from blushing, and you can hardly regain your breath as you weakly look down between your legs.

Bobby slowly pulls away, pushing the blanket off of his back as spit oozes down his chin. As if you’re looking at a completely different version of Bobby, you see no sign of restlessness or notion to give up in his eyes. 

His dark eyes gaze back at you with deep, longing desire—a constant need to tease and please you again and again.

It’s only after the two of you curl back up on the bed after finally cleaning up that you realize how differently Bobby rides out his high than you do.

As the clock hits 3AM, you notice Bobby remains sitting up; his back against propped-up pillows on the headboard of the bed—beyond a normal high you’ve ever seen him have.

A half-finished cigarette loosely hangs out of the corner of Bobby’s lips; his eyes barely open and his head slightly tilted out with his hands on his lap. 

Completely lethargic after the bursts of euphoria his last dose gave him, Bobby breathes softly but is otherwise completely unaware of his surroundings or what he’s even doing.

You prop yourself up on your side, reaching gently to Bobby’s mouth before taking the cigarette out of his mouth as gently as you can. Bobby neither notices nor does he budge as you lean up and quickly put out his cigarette in the ashtray next to him.

Moving back, you peek up at Bobby, the hair from his bangs dangling over his forehead and his soft, pouty lips still pursed open. There’s no denying the rush of butterflies forming in the pit of your stomach again just by admiring your boyfriend before you.

You plant a soft kiss on Bobby’s cheek, expecting him not to react and stay still, but receive a completely different response, much to your surprise. Your eyes flutter open as Bobby turns his head to you the moment your lips are about to pull away from his cheek, and he catches you in a sloppy, lazy kiss over the lips.

“Mm,” you gladly kiss Bobby back over the mouth, your free hands finding his as you lace your fingers together.

When you both part away from the kiss softly, you gaze down at Bobby’s hands, much larger than yours, with slender-shaped fingers. 

A shy smile crosses over your lips as you rub the palm of your hands against his, caressing his soft skin and measuring the size of your hand against his.

Bobby watches helplessly, much too high to even form a coherent sentence, although it’s not aware to you that he’s actually trying to. 

“I…” Bobby breathes, loosely holding one hand with you. “I love…”

You blink lazily, looking back up at Bobby, who now leans his head back against the headboard. “I love you… C-can’t…”

Blush rushes to your cheeks as you squeeze Bobby’s hand reassuringly, patiently waiting for him to finish his sentence.

“Can’t stop…” Bobby squeezes his eyes shut for a moment, “thinking…about you.” Bobby slowly raises your hand up to his lips, looking you in the eye lazily before planting a lingering kiss over the back of your hand.

The butterflies in your stomach increase tenfold, and you can’t stop your heart from racing in excitement at the sudden show and confession of affection when Bobby’s this high out of his mind. 

You’d be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t yearn for it if you said reassurance and time spent together wasn’t your love language either.

“Don’t…” Bobby shakes his head at you, inhaling deeply. “Don’t go…okay? Just… Just don’t.”

“I won’t.” You whisper back to him, inching closer to Bobby on the bed. “I promise I’ll never go.”

“Don’t leave me,” Bobby mumbles under his breath. “Thought…maybe you would… But…” He struggles to form his next sentence, “I want you to love me.”

Both of you lock eyes at that moment, and while Bobby feels the pinnacle of his love and affection with you while he’s high, knowing he’s not just looking into the eyes of his girlfriend but into the gaze of the woman he’s so badly falling in love with—he sees love.

Bobby sees nothing but love and affection for you. It’s explicit, it’s strictly for you, and he refuses to deny his feelings or mask them. Bobby sees your eyes glistening back at his, and all he can think of at this moment is how much he’s in love with you.

Worry crosses your mind as you can’t see the same with the state Bobby’s in before you. You know what he’s saying to you is genuine—it’s true, and he means it—but the state of Bobby now corrodes away at who he was when you first brought him home from prison.

Bobby looks into your eyes and sees your love, and regardless of how much you love him, when you look into Bobby’s eyes, all you see is a destructive addiction. 

[lxngbottom]

Mistakes That Last Forever. | N.L. (Part 2)

in which neville tries to get his life back.

warnings: mentions of cheating, swearing (lmk if there are more!)

im crying over this fic PLS

(PART 1)

—

the shower felt wonderful as it collided with your skin. the stress that had been building up from the past week due to seeing neville, and work, was seemingly all being washed away. you could hear neville jr in the living room, muttering small scenarios as he used his imagination to play with his toys.

but, the small peace that your house held was soon disturbed by your house phone ringing. you sighed, hoping that it wasn’t your boss demanding at you turn in that article draft you had promised him.

“mummy! the phone is ringing!” your son called out, and you could hear that he had ran to the bathroom door in order to inform you.

“um—i know!” you replied, “can you be a big boy and answer it for me? just like we talked about?! ask to take a message, okay?”

“okay!”

you heard his hurried footsteps exit the hallway, and you continued your now, limited shower as quickly as you could.

neville jr reached up and picked up the phone, putting it to his ear in excitement. this was the first time you let him use the adult phone, and he couldn’t be more thrilled,

“uh... hello? longbottom—well... y/l/n residence!”

he made an odd face as he realized he has already messed up what you told him to say if someone had ever called.

the person on the other line smiled to himself, hearing that small, fragile voice. he sounded just like he used to when he was younger.

“hi... is your mum there?” neville asked awkwardly, shifting awkwardly in his seat as the realization that he was talking to his son was hitting him.

neville jr crooked his lips as he looked down the hall, “um... she’s in the shower...” he began to try and remember what you had told him to say, “uh—um... merlin... oh!” he finally remembered. “can i take a message for you?”

the boy had such a sweet voice. he was filled with such innocence. the shame of missing out on his son growing up had already hit neville, and he had been in a big slum for the last week due to that.

“yes... can you tell her that neville called? it’s important that she knows...”

neville jr then furrowed his eyebrows, “hey! that’s my name!” he snapped, “i didn’t call my own house!”

neville on the other line chuckled at the boy’s obliviousness, “no! that’s my name, too, lad. i’m—uh... your—“

just as he was about to tell his son the truth, you came stomping out of the bathroom, towel wrapped around your body, and your hair as well. you ran over to your son, who was still holding the phone.

“who is it?” you asked, already grabbing the phone from his grasp,

“uh... neville? he has the same name as i do, mum!”

your heart dropped to the pit of your stomach, and you tried to play it off by sending your son a small smile.

“that’s... nice, sweetheart. but... go play for a few minutes, okay?”

the boy nodded his head, and went right back to the center of the living room, and continued to play with his cars. you glanced over at him, putting the phone up to your ear, hands shaky from anxiety.

“hello?” you started, looking down awkwardly at the numbers on the phone.

“oh... hey, y/n.”

yep. it was neville.

“how did you get my number, longbottom?” you asked in a low whisper, glancing over at your son once more,

neville let out an awkward chuckle, “well... it’s not that hard to get into contact with the journalist of the daily prophet, y/n.” he teased slightly, maybe trying to lighten the mood, “i just need to talk to you.”

you sighed, gritting your teeth slightly, “about what, neville?”

“about... seeing him. seeing both of you. ever since i saw you both last week... i haven’t been sleeping, or eating... i want to make things right. i deserve that, y/n. i need to see my son...”

you knew it was coming, but, you had hoped it would at least be a few more years.

“neville—“

“y/n, i can’t keep doing this. i can’t keep walking throughout my life miserable. i know i’ve done awful things to you, and i know there is nothing in this world that i could possibly ever do to make it up to you. but, please... that’s my son. maybe this is my opportunity to do the right thing. an opportunity to get my life back...”

you huffed at his words, “you didn’t even know he existed until a week ago!”

“yeah, because you never told me! you know for a fact that if you would’ve told me the truth, that i would’ve been there for everything! there’s a lot i have to owe up to, but don’t forget that you lied to me! you kept me away from my son for his whole life because you were hurt over a mistake!”

“a mistake that you made, asshole!” you clapped back through teary eyes, “i figured... hey! maybe if neville wants to go back to being an immature teenager and cheat on me, then how in world would he ever be a good father?! i wasn’t even sure that you would even be committed to him, neville! because, you sure weren’t committed to me!”

the tension that radiated through the static on the phone was terrifying. the only thing that could be heard was your small sniffles, and neville’s agitated sighs on the other end. you were so hurt. you had always been so hurt due to what had happened.

“y/n...” neville sighed, “please. just let me make this right. let me make it up to you... and to him. please... i’ll do anything.”

you thought for a moment, considering all of the positives and the negatives of this whole situation. you knew he was right, he did deserve to see his son. but, you didn’t know if that would be the right thing for your son himself.

“fine...” you breathed, “you can come and see him. i’ll send you an owl, soon...”

neville had never felt more relieved.

“thank you. thank you, y/n. i promise i’ll—“

but, you cut him off by slamming the phone back onto the hook. your face fell into the palm of your hand as you let out a small sob, overwhelmed by the sudden old feelings that were rushing back into your veins.

“mummy...”

you didn’t look at him. you couldn’t look at him.

“you’re crying, mum. what’s wrong?” he asked, slowly walking over to you, “was it that man on the phone?”

you finally looked down at him, seeing the worried look etched across his round, chubby face. you crouched down to meet his height, reaching your hand up to caress his face gently. you had always done that, because it was something that you always did to neville when he was worried or sad.

“mummy’s alright, baby... she’s just stressed out. but... i need to talk to you about something, alright?”

that’s when his face became even more worried, “as i in trouble?”

you chuckled through your tears at your son’s overthinking, “no, no, of course not. it’s just... there’s something i haven’t told you...”

“what is it, mum?”

you sighed, finally ready to have the talk.

—

that morning had started off chaotic. it was a mix of you trying to get ready, neville rummaging through his closet in order to find the perfect outfit, as he was a big boy now, and he wanted to get ready all by himself.

“neville longbottom! have you brushed your teeth?!” you yelled from the living room, trying to pick up the small mess of toys that was spread throughout the floor.

neville in his room widened his eyes, realizing that he indeed had not brushed his teeth.

“i’m going to take that as a no!” you yelled, referring to the silence, “go and do it, please! he’ll be here at any minute!”

neville jr was probably just as nervous as you were, as he had subconsciously had always questioned where his father had been, but never asked. but ever since that long conversation the two of you had, he was finally ready to meet him. you on the other hand, felt as if you could throw up at any given moment.

you were only in your bra and underwear as you cleaned, trying your best not to mess up your applied makeup. you ran to your room after you were done, and started going through your closet. you and neville jr would always wake up late, as for some reason, you two loved getting your beauty sleep. the both of you were used to rushing through your shared home, getting ready while doing ten other things at the same time. time management was definitely something you needed to teach him, and maybe even teach yourself.

“mum! i can’t find my socks!” you heard your son call out, his voice shaky.

“um—check in your top drawer, sweetie! there should be a clean pair in there!” you yelled back, slipping on a sun dress and zipping it up in the back. you looked in the mirror, and noticed that you hadn’t even done your hair. it was still wet from the shower you had taken,

“fuck!” you groaned, running to your personal bathroom and grabbing your hairbrush.

“mum! that’s a bad word!”

“i’m sorry! i’m just really stressed out! are you almost ready?”

there was silence for a moment before he responded, “um... yeah?”

he wasn’t ready, of course.

you felt as if you could crack at any moment, but you were trying your best to hold back the tears. maybe this would’ve been a lot easier if you two had actually woken up when you were supposed to.

that’s when the doorbell rang, and your heart seemed to stop beating for a moment. you sighed, mentally preparing yourself as you grabbed your flats from your closet, and walked through the house to the front door.

when you arrived, you shakily unlocked it and opened the door.

that’s when you saw him. he held a small bouquet of flowers in one hand, and a small gift box in the other. he smiled at you, taking in how absolutely ravishing you looked.

“um—come in...” you told him, opening the door. he stepped in, and began to follow you through the house, leading to your living room. “just—ignore the mess, please! we woke up late, and i didn’t have time to clean the kitchen and—“

“hey, hey, hey...” he interrupted you, setting the items down on the couch. “it’s fine, y/n. i understand... no need to explain.”

you looked over at him, and for a moment, you began to get lost in his gentle eyes. neville had always been so patient with you. he never judged you, nor ever would judge you. he knew you from the inside out, and he could tell how stressed out you were in that moment.

“mummy!” you heard, and the two of you whipped your head around to see a struggling smaller neville, trying to get his sweater on over his jumper. you giggled as his head was getting stuck in the hole, “it won’t go on!” he huffed aggressively, his arms flailing around.

you walked over to him, and pulled the sweater vest down over his head easily. he looked at you for a moment, an appreciative smile on his face. but then, he caught a glance at the smiling man that stood just ways away from you. he hid behind your leg, still nervous out his mind.

“neville...” you muttered, trying to get him to not be so shy, “come on...”

he shook his head, now burying his face in the material of your dress.

you looked over at neville, who had a sad look on his face.

“he’s shy... but... he’ll come around.” you reassured the man.

of course he was shy. he was neville longbottom’s son for merlin’s sake.

neville wearily made his way over to the both of you, the gift box now in his hand. he crouched down by your knee, letting your cherry blossom lotion take over his senses.

“this—it’s for you...” he offered, holding the gift box up to the small boy. neville jr peeked his head around your leg, eyeing the color wrapped box. “go on... it’s yours...”

neville jr finally gave in, his childish mind not being to help itself as he reached out, and grabbed the box from his father’s hand. he slowly showed himself, ripping the wrapping up.

he squealed when he finally got it open.

“mum, look!” he held the toy up in his hand, “look how cool!”

you smiled down at your lovely son, “i see it, honey. what do you say?”

neville jr looked up at his dad, batting his eyelashes a few times.

“thank you...”

neville sent him a sweet smile,

“no problem...”

—

the day had been simple. you, neville, and neville jr did nothing but relax, play with toys, talk about your old days at hogwarts, ordered pizza for lunch, and you even made a nice dinner by the time the night had came along. it brought you a feeling of serenity, as this had always been your dream for you and neville.

“can i have a goodnight kiss?” you asked neville jr as you tucked him in. he nodded his head, and pecked your cheek, then settled back into his blanket.

“goodnight, mum...” he told you sweetly,

neville watched as you tucked your son in, glancing around the boy’s room every now and then. he had noticed how much of an amazing mother you were the whole day, but, he would’ve never expected less.

neville jr looked over at the tall man, hiding his face shyly.

“goodnight, daddy...”

the nickname made you look over at neville, who seemed to be in some sort of state of shock. but, he sent the boy a small smile.

“goodnight, nev. get some rest...”

you stood up from your son’s bed, and slowly made your way towards the door.

“will you still be here tomorrow when i wake up?”

the question made you and neville’s head turn, and you were still trying your best to hold it together.

neville wiped his nose awkwardly, “not sure about that one, lad. but, i’ll definitely see you in a couple of days. maybe... you can come to my house and meet my pets, huh? that sound good?”

the question seemed to be aimed towards your son, but just by looking at neville, he seemed to be asking the both of you.

“yeah... that sounds good...” neville jr replied, offering the both of you a weak yawn. he rubbed his eyes, and cuddled into his stuffed toad.

you smiled as you turned the light off, and neville stepped out of the room.

“goodnight, darling. i’ll see you in the morning.”

and with that, you closed his door softly, and began to walk back to the living room.

neville watched as you started to clean up, even at one point offering to help you.

“it’s fine...” you told him as he went to pick up a toy, “i don’t need your help...”

you hadn’t noticed it, but neville definitely had. you were now crying, tears streaming down your face as you continued to pick toys up, and set them into the box that sat beside you. the emotions from today were now taking an affect on you, and as much as you tried to ignore them, your body needed some sort of release.

“y/n...” neville muttered, and you looked over at him, breaking his heart when he saw your eyeliner smudging, “what’s wrong?”

you sighed as you picked the box up, and put it back in its place over the by the couch.

“nothing... just exhausted. i have to get something into my boss for work, and i just—“

“don’t lie to me.”

you furrowed your eyebrows at him, “i’m not—“

“yes, you are. i can tell.” he interjected, walking closer to you. “you can tell me... please tell me.”

you pondered for a moment, wondering if you should actually let the words slip your lips.

“it’s just—“ you began, trying to collect your thoughts. neville gazed at you intently, “it’s just hard seeing you. and... seeing you with him is even worse.”

“why?”

you bit down on your bottom lip, something you had always done when you were trying to hold back tears, “because... i suppose i just thought that—maybe... that would’ve been us. all these years... you would’ve done all the stuff you did with him today everyday. i had always dreamt of us having a family together... but... i just wasn’t good enough for you.”

neville’s breath hitched at your words. he felt his stomach churn with guilt, and sadness as well.

“y/n... you were more than good enough for me. i was just—a fucking git. i was so... stupid for what i did. and, i probably won’t ever be able to make it up to you...”

you chuckled nervously, “well... at least there’s a chance to make it up to him.”

he stepped even closer to you, only a small gap between your nervous bodies. he slowly reached his hand up, and wiped away the single tear that was treading down your cheek. he ran that same hand through your hair, that familiar feeling settling in, ever so present between you both.

“yeah... but something tells me that you want me to make it up to you, as well, y/n...”

his touch was so gracious. it felt so familiar, and you couldn’t help but to fall into it. his thumb caressed your skin, feeling all of the familiar bumps and roughness. he felt as if he collapse, as he was only just now realizing that he was finally touching you again.

“it doesn’t matter what i want, neville. that hasn’t mattered since i had our son. all that matters is him now.”

neville took a beat of silence before responding, his eyes trailing to your lips.

“it does matter.”

that’s when he planted his soft lips upon yours, relishing in the serenity of you.

it was a kiss that was long overdue. a kiss that said so much but nothing all at the same time. oh, how he missed you. and oh... how you missed him so much more.

when you two finally pulled away, his palm still rested against your cheek, and he admired you.

“i’m sorry for everything. but what i said was true... i want my life back. and y/n... you and neville are my life.”

[troubatrain]

i’d lie - m. tkachuk

a/n: this was the very first like super long fic i’d written for my own blog and tbh i still love it so i hope you guys do too :)

September 2019

The first time you met Matthew Tkachuk, you were running back to your apartment, mountain of textbooks in your hand. You’d run into a firm chest while trying to text your roommates back about dinner plans, your books knocking all over the floor. You apologized profusely, feeling awful for running into someone because you couldn’t get your head out of your phone. The stranger, who later introduced himself as Matthew, assured you it was fine and helped you pick up your books. You introduced yourself to him, thanking him for the help and making a light joke about how you weren’t paying attention. The two of you went your separate ways, but your mind wandered about the blue eyed stranger you’d run into that day.

The second time was definitely just a coincidence, and you were sure of that. You were grabbing a quick coffee before class, something you were in dire need of after your roommates came home well past midnight from a night out while you decided to stay in and study. You were waiting for your drink when you heard your name called from behind you. You turn around and meet Matthew’s eyes, laughing about how’d you run into each other just a couple of days later. The two of you made small talk, you explaining that you were just headed to class and him explaining he was grabbing an after practice coffee. When you asked him what sport he played, he looked at you in shock and laughed, explaining that he played for the Flames, you reluctantly admitted that you didn’t follow hockey much anymore, being just too busy. Your conversation ended quickly when you realized you had to run to class, telling Matthew you’d see him around even though you were sure you probably never would.

The third time was starting to feel like the universe was telling you something. You’d gone out with your roommates, celebrating a successful end to the fall semester. You were going to grab another drink when you felt someone grab your arm, when you turned around, ready to tell this guy to lay off, you’re met with a familiar pair of blue eyes. Matthew cracked a joke about how you’d seen him more times in the past week or so than his family and offered to buy you a drink. You took it, standing at the bar and talking to him for the rest of the night. You talked about school, your major, and your roommates. He told you about playing for the Flames, and how much he loved being in Calgary. When his teammates walked over to the two of you, chirping Matthew about talking to you, and when you roasted his teammate right back, Matthew told you that he was positive he was going to have a new best friend.

Matthew wasn’t kidding, finally getting your number at the bar that night and never leaving you since. It was slow, he started by inviting you out with his teammates after games, the boys becoming a permanent part of your life. Then you went to your first Flames game, in which Matthew scored twice and made you promise to never miss a home game after. After that, you were complaining about how loud your roommates could be when you really needed to get some work done, so Matthew gave you a key to his place so you could go there even if he was away. Matthew would send take out to your apartment if you’d had a particularly bad day or you would go over to his and cook for the both of you. He’d been there to help you study for finals, even though he didn’t have a clue about what you were talking about. You’d been there when the Flames got knocked out of the first round of the playoffs, holding Matthew while he ranted and raved about the game and how badly he wished they’d won. You went out to dinner with his parents when they came to town, you’d even made a trip to St. Louis over the summer. From an outsider’s perspective, and from the perspective of every person in your life, it seemed like you two were dating, but you felt like that ship had sailed and if it was going to happen it would’ve already.

You shake the memories of your friendship with Matthew out of your head as you turn the key to his apartment, sneaking in with the obnoxious decorations you’d bought. Yesterday, Matthew called you to let you know his contract was almost done and that he’d be back to Calgary for training camp the next day. You were excited, the contract debacle taking up more stress in your life than you’d liked. You’d sent the stuff down on his kitchen island, tying the red balloons you’d bought to one of the chairs and setting out the cake you’d bought that just says, “Congrats on getting PAID.” You hear the door creak open, and Matthew set his bag down by the door.

“Oh this is something,” Matthew chuckles, laughing at the small celebration you’d put together.

“Thought I’d welcome you back,” You laugh as he runs over to pull you into a hug.

“I really don’t deserve you,” He says, “Is that cake?”

“It is,” You smile, walking into the kitchen and pulling the groceries you’d bought to cook the both of you some dinner, “and dinner.”

“I really really don’t deserve you,” Matthew repeats, always appreciative of things you did to take care of him. Not that you minded it at all, the access to the quiet of Matthew’s apartment was enough to justify a few dinners, let alone when the two of you went out and Matthew insisted on paying the bill. While you never felt like you owed him anything, it definitely made you feel less guilty when you were doing something for him - even if it is just stopping him from eating out every night.

“You don’t, I know,” You joke, hip bumping him out of your way so you could grab a cutting board from his cabinet.

Matthew was over to the seats on the island, sitting in the one you’d decorated, “You’re going to be at our first home game right?”

“Of course, I planned my entire day around it,” You admit, knowing you’d made a silly promise to Matthew that you’d never miss a home game, “Why? Worried you’re going to bomb without me there?”

“I mean, yeah. I just-” Matthew starts, sighing, “After waiting for this deal and stuff I don’t want anyone to think it was a mistake.”

You didn’t realize your joke had actually struck a nerve. When you first became friends you didn’t think Matthew doubted his play or himself ever. He had a blind confidence, and he never let a mistake take over his whole game. It was something you actually admired, wondering if you could ever be that confident in yourself. But, when the Flames lost in the first round of the playoffs, and you’d gone to his place after the game, Matthew turned into a sad shell of a man in front of your eyes. That night you realized how much actually got to him, and while he listed off the mistakes he made in the series you’re heart broke with every word he said. The Canadian media wasn’t always easy, and it really bothered Matthew more than you think he even knew.

You turn around from the stove, “There’s not one person who doesn’t think you deserve your contract, and if they don’t I’ll personally tell them to fuck off.”

Matthew laughs, and your heart skips a beat, “I think I can do without you trying to fight anyone.” “Why? I’m absolutely terrifying,” You joke, your small frame wasn’t scary at all, but you weren’t about to let that stop you.

“You know what? You’re right,” Matthew says sarcastically.

“In all seriousness,” You start walking around the island to wrap your arms around Matthew’s shoulders, “I’ll always be proud of you.” Matthew tucks his head into your arms muttering a low thank you. The two of you spent the night together, catching up on your summers over the dinner you made. He told you about the trips he’d gone on, and his summer antics. You’d gone on about the vacation’s you’d gone on, and the time you spent with your family.

October 2019

You walked arm and arm with Brittney, Sean’s girlfriend, into the Saddledome for the Flames home opener. It was Saturday night, and you knew with the Kings coming to town on Tuesday the boys would definitely be celebrating their first win of the season if they came out on top tonight. You were excited, hoping they’d be able turn it around before it became a losing streak. You head up to your usual seats, walking into the family boxes with Brittany, all of the team’s significant others and families out for the first home game of the season. After finally grabbing a drink and sitting down you look down at the nice, spotting Matthew’s mop of hair buzzing around the ice.

“So anything change over the summer?” Brittany asks when she sees you looking at Matthew on the ice, a curious look on her face.

“Still best friends,” You say, shaking your head at her comment. You’d heard it a million times, about how Matthew needed to have you at his games, sitting with the rest of the team’s families or how you were always at his place or vice-versa but you assured everyone who asked that you were just friends - because you were.

“Okay but you can be best friends and date, you guys know that right?” Brittany says, trying to make you see it from her point of view.

“Britt, I really mean it, we’re just friends,” You shrug, not really in the mood to continue defending yourself. You ignore the knowing look she gives you, already knowing that her usual comeback would be asking you why you’re getting so defensive.

By the time the third period rolled around, the Flames were up 3-0 and you were sure this was going to end as a win. When the period was finally over, you headed down to the locker with Brittany to wait for Matthew to head out. 

He barreled out of the locker room, scanning the room to find you, running over and hugging you tightly, “We wonnn.”

You knew he was running on an adrenaline rush that he only ever got out of winning, “You did, are we going out tonight?”

“We are Y/N, Chucky can stay home,” You hear Sam Bennett’s voice behind you.

“Sam, what makes you assume I want to spend time with you?” You quip back before Matthew even has a chance to defend himself.

“You guys are really meant to be, you’re both cold as hell,” Sam says, shaking his head at the two of you.

You ignore Sam’s comment, turning to Matthew, “Ready to go?”

Matthew nods, leading the way to his car in the parking garage at the arena. You both slide in, you immediately grab his phone to change the music.

“You know it’s my car,” He says, already knowing you controlled the music in every car ride you took, despite who was driving.

“You know I don’t care,” You say back immediately, “Do you want to drop off your car?”

“No, you drink, I’ll just have a beer,” Matthew says, never wanting to let himself get too drunk if you were going to, afraid something might happen to you.

“But you guys won-” You start to protest only to be immediately cut off.

“But you had class all week, and don’t think I didn’t hear you stress crying after I went to bed the other night,” Matthew says, immediately shutting you up. You had a long week, and the idea of getting to go out with the safety net of Matthew taking care of you didn’t sound terrible.

“Fine, you win,” You say as you pull up to the bar you were meeting the rest of the team at. You walked in, immediately spotting Brittany and Sean from afar, walking over them wrapping Brittany in a hug.

“I’m really happy you guys are all back in town,” You say, still a little tipsy from the drinking you’d done at the game.

“Happy to see all of us, or just Chucky,” Sean says, giving you a look.

“Enough with that,” You snap, already having heard it from his girlfriend.

“Enough with what?” Matthew says, stepping behind you placing a drink in your hand.

“Nothing, Sean’s being a moron,” You say, leaning into his chest when he places a protective arm across your chest.

The rest of the night was an eventful one to say the least. You’d danced with the girls, Sam made you take more shots than a person should, and it was safe to say you were drunk to say the least. You finally walk back over to the table that Matthew was sitting at, talking to Noah.

“Matty, can you grab me another drink?” You ask, trying to convince him so you didn’t have to. You knew it wouldn’t take much and he nods and takes your empty glass without a second thought. 

Once Matthew was out of earshot, Noah turns to you, “You’ve really got him wrapped your finger.”

“Noah -” You start to defend yourself again.

“Don’t Noah me,” Noah immediately cuts you off, “Admit it, you have to see what everyone else sees.”

“You know what? I do and yes, it confuses the shit out of me but Noah, I like Matthew, a lot, but I don’t think he feels the same way about me,” Your drunken confession slips, your hand immediately covering your mouth that you actually admitted it.

Noah looks at you, eyes wide in surprise, “Oh my god, I was right?”

You start to give him a lecture about prying into your business before he cuts you off, “Your secret’s safe with me.”

You smile, “Thanks Noah.”

Matthew comes back and hands you a water despite you asking him for another drink, you roll your eyes, knowing he’s just decided to cut you off before you got messy.

“Ready to go?” You ask, sipping the water.

“Whenever you are, are you going home or staying by me?” Matthew asks and you notice Noah shaking his head at the two of you.

“Home, I need to spend my Sunday studying,” You say, leaning back into Matthew from the barstool you were sitting on.

Matthew nods, grabbing your hand and walking you back out to his car, opening the door for you to slide in. The drive back to your place was short, and you wished it was longer, admiring how the streetlights made Matthew look incredibly handsome. You knew the small crush that you’d been haboring since you met him only made it’s special guest appearance after you’d been drinking, and you were going to let it take over even just for the night. When Matthew stops in front of your building, he tosses his car into park so he can walk you to your door, even though you always insist nothing awful will probably happen to you between then and the minute elevator ride up to your floor. 

When you step in front of your door you wrap your arms around Matthew’s waist, tucking your head into his chest, “Thank you for always taking care of me.”

You feel him place a small kiss on your head, something he did often, “Anytime, get some sleep okay?”

You nod, “Text me when you’re home Matthew,” You say, using his full name to make yourself sound more serious. He laughs and heads back to the elevator while you walk into your apartment, walking into your bedroom and slipping one of Matthew’s old London Knights shirts on, passing out immediately.

November 2019

With November came an enormous amount of stress, the Flames weren’t playing up to their usual standards, losing five games on the road. Matthew was grouchy to say the least, you were always trying to cheer him up but there was only so much you could do while he was gone. You weren’t in the best mood either, the stress from school starting to build up. You’d spent more nights crying from stress in the comfort of Matthew’s empty apartment more than you’d admit to anyone, never quite feeling like you could catch up with all of your work. Which is why you were sitting on Matthew’s couch, head in your hands while you tried to finish the paper you had due at midnight when you hear him finally come home from his road trip, dropping his bag at the door with a bang, causing you to jump.

“Oh, I didn’t know you were here,” Matthew says, in a harsher tone he usually used. You could tell the losing streak was starting to get to him, his shoulders were tight, and the bags under his eyes were prominent.

“Do you not want me to be?” You say, while Matthew never complained when you were at his place, you did understand if he wanted to be alone.

“No you’re fine,” He says, “Are you going to come to my game tomorrow?” Your heart sunk, you wanted to, but you couldn’t justify spending a night at the Saddledome watching him play when you had so much work to finish before the chaos of finals started. You look at his sad eyes, afraid you might upset him if you said no.

“Matty, I have so much work I have to do, I don’t think I can,” You say, closing your eyes as if that would lessen the blow, you open one, seeing Matthew’s face crushed in front of you.

“It’s fine,” He says, the words not sounding like anything was okay at all, “We’ll just lose - again.”

“Don’t put that on me,” You defend, not wanting to feel guiltier than you are, “You miss shit in my life all the time because you’re gone.”

You regretted the words as soon as you said it. It didn’t matter if Matthew was there or not, anything important in your life, he made sure you knew he was proud of you. If it wasn’t a flood of texts, it was a bouquet of flowers to your door. He made sure you never felt like he forgot about you while he was gone, and you knew you were just acting out.

You hear Matthew sigh, a sign he was trying to keep his temper in check, “Maybe you should just go.” “I will,” You say, gathering your things and heading towards the door, turning back to him one more time, “For the record, you’ll be fine whether or not I’m there or not.”

--

You didn’t sleep that night - at all. Your mind replayed that stupid little argument you had gotten into with Matthew. You’d never actually fought with him, sure you bickered, but as soon as you’d call him out on his shit, he would let it go and that would be it. He looked so hurt by your words, and you knew you owed him an apology. You tried calling, texting, you even sent him an email, but he was ignoring you and you knew it. 

You lay on your bed, typing a paper for one of your classes while watching the Flames game, the Flames down against the Avs 3-2. You watched as Matthew got sent to the box, for the third time that evening, finally breaking his stick when he sat down. You knew he was frustrated, and you couldn’t help but feel like you might have had something to do with it. You turn the game off with five minutes left, not wanting to see Matthew’s face after they lost their sixth game in a row. You finally finish your paper, setting your laptop down and getting ready for bed. You slip into bed, ready to finally try and get some sleep when you hear Matthew’s voice from your living room, your roommate telling him that you were in bed. 

He opens your bedroom door, poking his head through, “Can I come in?”

You nod, watching as he steps into your room, still in his gameday suit. He lays down, immediately putting his head into your lap, while your hands move to play with his curls.

“I’m sorry,” You whisper, not wanting to break the silence in your room.

“You don’t need to be,” He says, “You were right - you always are.”

“Not always,” You smile, watching as his eyes close under your touch, “Do you want to stay here? We can watch a movie - whatever you want.” Matthew smiles and you knew you’d said the right thing, knowing that after a bad game it’s better to distract him until he finally opens up, “Can I have sweats?”

“Open my top drawer,” You say, “It’s mostly your clothes anyways.”

Matthew laughs, opening the dresser and realizing how many pairs of sweatpants and hoodies you’d actually stolen from him. It wasn’t your fault he has the comfiest hoodies known to man, and that he always offered them to you when it got cold. He steps into your bathroom to change, coming back out and climbing into your bed, pulling you closer to him so you could snuggle into his chest, grabbing your remote and throwing on a movie on Netlifx.

You don’t remember falling asleep, but somewhere halfway through the movie you finally knocked out for the first time in two days, wrapped up in Matthew’s arms. The two of you blocking out the noise from the outside world.

December 2019

With December comes the craziness of finals, but you weren’t about to let it stop you from celebrating Matthew’s birthday in the most ridiculous way you could think of. You’d set up a full on surprise party, using Noah as your partner in crime. The Flames were lucky enough to have a Sunday off, allowing you to have Noah keep Matthew out of his apartment all day so you could decorate. You went all out with decorations and invited everyone you knew was important to him - even having some of his friends from St. Louis fly up for the occasion. 

“I can’t believe you’re doing all of this for someone you’re not even dating,” You hear Brittany say, handing you the other half of the Happy Birthday banner you’d bought. 

“He literally flew me out to St. Louis over the summer for my birthday,” You say, “I think the least I could do is throw a party.”

Brittany shakes her head at you, distracted by Sean carrying in drinks before she could make a comment about how you spent your birthday with Matthew and his family. You greeted all of the guests as they arrived, waiting for Noah’s text that him and Matthew were on their way. Once you got the text, you had everyone hide out, shutting off all of the lights. You hear them come up the hallway, opening the door to Matthew’s place. You all jump out and yell surprise, promptly scaring the birthday boy. He smiles at you, knowing you were the only person who wanted to make a big deal out his birthday in the first place.

“Thank you,” He says, stepping over to you after he greets everyone at the party.

“How did you know it was me?” You joke, “It could’ve been Sam.”

“Because when I told you I didn’t want to do anything for my birthday, you proceeded to tell me that’s fine,” Matthew says, “and I know you were lying.”

You laugh, he was always able to tell whether or not you were lying from your body language alone. It made it easier to just tell him how you were feeling, even if you didn’t want to.

The party was dwindling down by the time you saw Matthew again, his body swaying indicating that he was definitely drunk. You laugh, getting the last groups of guests to head out so you could clean up and get Matthew to bed.

Once you shut the door, pushing Sam and Noah out while they made jokes about you and Matthew walking down the hallway, you turn around to see Matthew grabbing himself a water.

“Alright birthday boy, let’s get you to bed,” you say, trying to move his much larger frame into his bedroom. You’d only ever had to do it once before, a night out after the Flames clinched their playoff spot last season that ended in Matthew puking outside of the bar, and you were sore from trying to haul him to bed.

“Will you stay?” He says when you finally get him to sit on his bed.

“I mean, I planned on it,” you say, gesturing to your bag that was in it’s usual spot in his guest room.

“No in here,” He argues back, crossing his arms like a child. You knew you shouldn’t give in, and you knew climbing into bed with him was only going to make that small crush worse, the crush already growing from the last time you’d slept in the same bed as him. 

You sigh, walking over to his dresser to grab him some clothes, tossing them over to him, “I’m just going to go change.”

You walk across the hall to his guest room, slipping out of the jeans you’d been wearing and throwing on a pair of shorts and one of Matthew’s t-shirts. You tossed your hair in a bun, opening the door to Matthew’s room, seeing him in bed waiting for you. You smile, sliding into bed and cuddling yourself into Matthew’s chest as soon as you laid down.

“Thank you for the party,” Matthew whispers, hands twirling the ends of your hair.

“I told you, it wasn’t me,” You joke, finally letting sleep take over you.

January 2020

When Matthew got voted into the All Star Game, you made sure to tell him an obnoxious amount of time. You also insisted on blaring “All Star” by Smash Mouth in his apartment for an entire week before he told you he was going to take his spare key back if you didn’t stop. What you didn’t expect, was for him to insist you at least came for the actual weekend of the game. But once you found out that Brady was also playing in the game, you decided you should probably make the trip down.

You arrived Friday morning, Matthew making some time in the craziness of the weekend to pick you up from the airport, having you stay with him at his parent’s house. You arrive in the mass chaos of the Tkachuk household, his mom scrambling to get everything ready for the party they planned on having after the game on Saturday. You set your bag down, immediately running into the kitchen to see Brady and Taryn.

“Matt, you can leave now,” Brady says, wrapping you in a tight hug, “We’d much rather have Y/N here.” You laugh, missing the dynamic of seeing Matthew around his family. He was always more relaxed when he was with his family, even though he’d never admit that he actually did miss them during the season.

“Brady she’s my best friend,” Matthew says, grabbing your hand and pulling you into his chest.

“To be fair, I like Taryn more than both of you,” You mutter between the bickering boys.

You spend your Friday running around with Matthew’s mom, helping her with the party as much as you could. You enjoyed your time with her, knowing that it made Matthew happy to see how much his parents like having you around. Friday and Saturday seem like a blur, the craziness of the All Star Game taking over. You spent most of the time with Taryn and the rest of Matthew’s family that came to town, many of whom you’d met the last time the Sens came into town. You finally arrive back at the Tkachuk’s Matthew riding the high from winning the actual game.

Once the party was in full swing you were dragged around the house by Matthew, introducing you to players he’s played with in the past. You had a long conversation with Mitch Marner, who you found out Matthew actually played with when he played for the London Knights. You spent the night of some of the best athletes in the world and you couldn’t help but wonder why Matthew kept you around when he kept company like his friends who played around the league.

You step in Matthew’s bedroom, trying to take a moment for yourself. You look in the mirror, and sigh, just not sure of why you were there in the first place. It didn’t happen much anymore, but every once in a while the thoughts of not being good enough found themselves creeping in your mind. You couldn’t help it, as your hands started to shake, you heard the door open and Matthew step into his room.

“You alright?” He asks, sitting on the edge of his bed.

“Why are you friends with me?” You ask harshly.

“What’s this about Y/N?” He asks, confused at your tone.

“I mean, you just, all of the people in your life are these accomplished athletes and are insanely good at what they do, and for some reason you choose to spend all of your time with someone who cries every time they get too stressed out,” You rant out, worried about how Matthew would react to what you were saying. You’d never let him in on this part of you, the part that’s doubtful and scared that one mistake could ruin everything you’ve ever worked for.

You feel Matthew grab your hand, pulling you down to sit on the bed. He kneels in front of you, wiping away the stray tear that had fallen, “I don’t want to spend my time with anyone besides you, please don’t ever think differently. You’re funny and smart and you care about every person in your life even if they don’t deserve it. You’re my best friend, and I don’t want you to feel like this ever.” You smile, trying to hide the butterflies you feel in your stomach when Matthew’s thumb grazes your cheeks to try and calm you down.

“Do you want to stay in here and hangout for the rest of the night, just the two of us?” Matthew whispers, not wanting to break the comfortable silence between you two.

You nod, climbing into his bed and waiting for him to join you, putting on a movie and pulling you into his arms. You knew there was a giant party going on outside of those four walls of Matthew’s childhood bedroom, but nothing could be better than laying in his arms just the two of you.

February 2020

After the All Star Game, you threw yourself into your schoolwork knowing Matthew was headed on a two week road trip. You’d spent the two weeks catching up on an enormous amount of work, so you wouldn’t have to worry about it once Matthew finally got back to Calgary. You were grabbing a coffee before your class, when your phone rang in your pocket - Matthew’s caller ID appearing on the screen.

“Helllllo,” You answer, excited to hear his voice - even if it was just over the phone.

“Hey, do you have plans for Valentine’s Day?” He asks.

“I do not,” you say, knowing for a fact Matthew knew you didn’t.

“We have this Flames gala thing and I was wondering if you wanted to come with me?” He asks, and you can hear Johnny and Sam chirping him in the background.

“Matthew, that’s in like two days!” You say, scolding him for not asking you sooner so you could find a dress.

“I know, I just kind of forgot about asking you, I told the team I was taking you though,” He defends, knowing he said he was bringing a date before he even bothered to ask you.

“Yes I will go, but please remember to give me some WARNING next time,” You sigh into the phone, “Now if you’ll let me go, I need to go find a dress.”

“I keep an extra card in my nightstand, use it,” Matthew says, “And before you say no, consider it a gift for not killing me for telling you last minute.”

Initially you laugh, knowing Matthew kept an extra debit card in his apartment because he lost his more frequently than a normal person should, but once his words settled in you began the usual protest you gave him when it came to money, “Matthew…” you start, ready to explain to him that you don’t need him spending ridiculous amounts of money on you.

“Y/N, just take it,” He says, “I’m really too tired for this one.”

You sigh, “Fine, but this is the last time.” “Whatever you say, I’ll tell Brittany to make sure you use it,” He says, and you knew he wasn’t kidding, “Bye.”

You mutter a goodbye back, texting Brittany that you were in dire need of an emergency shopping experience before the Gala on Friday. She laughed when you called, already having received a text from Matthew to make sure that she made you use his card.

The night of the gala you head to Matthew’s, carrying your dress and all of the things you knew you would need to get ready, tossing them in his guest room when you arrive. You head into the bathroom, promptly starting with your makeup when you heard him get in from the rink, yelling about how he was going to shower and heading into his room. You finally set your hair into loose curls and start to step into your dress. The off the shoulder black dress stopped right above your knees and fit you like a glove. Brittany didn’t even tell you how much is cost, grabbing it and paying for it on Matthew’s card before you could even look. But, the way it made you feel outweighed the guilt you felt. You slip on the nude heels you chose to wear, and call Matthew in to help clasp your necklace.

“Wow,” He says, stepping behind you, fastening the necklace to your neck, “You look beautiful.”

“Thanks Matty,” You say, turning out to take in the suit he was wearing. When you told him you decided to get something black, he was excited having had a dark maroon suit in his closet he wanted to wear, “You look alright I guess.” “I look alright?” He asks, lightly tickling at your sides, “You’re such a brat.”

You laugh, “You look super handsome, happy?”

He nods, grabbing your hand and leading you out to his car. The Gala was in full swing when you arrived, the room filled with his teammates, fans, and other important people in the city.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” You hear Noah’s voice behind you while Matthew was over having a conversation with one of the team’s trainers who was at the event.

“What Noah?” You ask, ready for the comment about Matthew taking you as his date.

“You look like that and Chucky still won’t lock you down? He’s really dumber than I thought,” Noah says, gesturing to you.

“Don’t you have a date you should be complimenting?” You say back, knowing Noah had brought some girl to the event, even though they were never around long.

“Not one that looks as good as you,” Noah says, “So, still got that little crush.”

“Yes and I’m done talking about it,” You say, watching Noah’s hands go up in defeat as Matthew steps behind you.

“Do you want to dance?” Matthew asks, ignoring the face Noah was giving him for being so gentle with you.

You nod, grabbing his hand and following him out to the dancefloor. You place your arms around his neck while his move to your hips, swaying to the music. You look behind you, seeing Noah smirking at the two of you while dancing with his own date. You throw up your middle finger, not letting Matthew notice. The two of you spend the night with each other, dancing and having Matthew introduce you to a lot of people who were working in the front office with the team that you’d never met before. You couldn’t help but feel like something was changing between the two of you, especially when he kept his hand on your lower back while walking through the gala, or his hand gently stroking your thigh while you guys sat at your table.

March 2020

You never talked about how you spent your Valentine’s Day romantically slow dancing with your best friend at a Gala his team was throwing after that night. You couldn’t tell if thing’s had actually changed between the two of you, or if it was a result of the romantic atmosphere. Thing’s with Matthew had returned back to the normal routine, with the Flames in the middle of their playoff push, Matthew was around less, spending more and more time at the rink. You understood, taking the time to spend some time with your friends that weren’t him.

You finally both had a day off, deciding that you’d head over to his place to cook the both of you dinner. You arrive at his place before he does, placing your bags down and getting straight to cooking. You hear him come in, humming at the smells of the food.

“Hey stranger,” He says, joking about the fact that you haven’t been spending as much time together as you usually did.

“Oh please, you talked to me about your practice today on the phone for an hour, you’re hardly starved for attention,” You say, calling him out for being dramatic.

“I need all of your attention or I might actually die,” He says, wrapping you in a hug, “So what’s been up with you?” “Same old same old, this guy from my class asked me out on a date, I haven’t told him yes or no,” You shrug, moving back to cooking dinner.

“No,” He says, instantly, and you turn off the oven, turning around to face him.

“No?” You ask.

“I mean- uh- fuck,” He stutters, “You can’t go on a date with that guy I’m sure you’re too good for him.”

You roll your eyes, crossing your arms, “Matthew I know you live in a world where you don’t want me to get hurt, but I can’t not date because you don’t want me to.”

“I know, I just-” He starts before you cut him off.

“You what Matthew? Give me one damn good reason why I shouldn’t go out with this guy,” You snap back.

“Because I want you to date me,” He says quietly, “I wanted this to be better, you deserve it to be perfect, but I love you so much, and I can’t keep denying it any longer. I love when you spend all of your time here because I love spending time with you. I love that you get along with my teammates, and my family. I love when you get dressed up to go out, because I get to walk around with the most beautiful girl in the world under my arm. I was just terrified you didn’t feel the same way and that you’d hate me. Then when we were dancing at the Gala it felt different, like you were as into me as I’m into you.”

You uncross your arms, walking around the island to stand in front of him, placing your arms around his neck, “That might have been the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard in my life.” “Really? Cause I think I could do better-” Matthew starts, but you cut him off by pressing your lips to his. His hands move to cup your face, kissing you back slowly, the two of you melt into each other like you’d been made for each other all along.

“I love you too,” You mutter against his lips, feeling him smile.

“You’re not gonna go on that date right?” He whispers, leaning his forehead against yours.

You laugh, “No, there’s only person I want taking me out on a date,” you joke, placing another kiss to his lips.

“Sounds like a lucky guy,” Matthew jokes back, kissing you again, solidifying how truly right it feels to finally be together.

[outofsstyles]

AU | Famous!Reader x Fashion student!Harry

☁️ FIC PAGE ☁️ PART 1 ☁️

word count: 20.3k

warnings: language

//

Sweet tea in the summer

Cross your heart, won't tell no other

And though I can't recall your face

I still got love for you

- Seven, Taylor Swift

//

“Can you bend your arms one last time, please?” Harry quickly angles his arms, holding them at chest height to show Marcus what he’s referring to.

He stands in front of Harry, dressed in his full Gaston outfit for the last fitting before opening night. The atelier has gone hectic again now that everyone’s gotten back from their lunch breaks, a mess of fabrics and papers taking over every surface in the room. There’s a low mesh of voices blending with Moyra’s playlist playing on a speaker that’s probably lost somewhere by now. Someone rushes across the room in a speed walk and almost bumps into Harry, muttering a quick apology before disappearing behind the doors leading to storage. 

As the week approached, Harry was warned by pretty much every single one of his coworkers about the chaos that it would be. After all, it’s the last week of rehearsals, and the first time the actors would get in characters with their full costumes. All arrangements have to be done by Saturday morning, is what Lisa said with her stern voice the previous Friday, with no space for wardrobe malfunctions. She meant it as a warning, but Harry took it as motivation, knowing he works better under stressful situations — which is not the healthiest working ethic, he admits, but it gets the job done.

On top of it all, your unprompted visit has surprisingly given him the boost he needed to finish up most of his work with an entire day to spare. 

It’s only been two days since you appeared on his front door with a Brit statuette and a promise to make up for the years lost in each other’s lives. Your suggestion to go out for a coffee quickly showed itself to be a bit more complicated than both of you thought it would; as neither of you expected the conflict in your schedules when making those plans. This was a busy week for Harry and an even busier opening weekend. The only time he’ll actually be able to catch a breather is by Monday, which, coincidentally, is the same day you’re catching a flight back to America.

Still, none of you seemed to want to wait another week to meet again. So he proposed to meet after his Friday shift. Which is why he spent the entirety of Thursday inside the costume studio, being the last one to leave just so he could wrap everything a few hours early to meet you back at his flat — by your request.

Even with a day cut short, however, there’s been barely enough time for him to focus on anything other than measurements and fittings. It’s a good thing when it comes to his nerves; the tight schedule giving him no space to let any butterfly drift on his belly. Without the anxiousness on the way and work to keep himself busy, it’s as if the clock has gone with a leap. He sewed back details that had fallen off an extra’s costume while swallowing back the salad he’d brought for lunch, made sure Lumiere’s candleholders were fixed in place, and that no feathers from Plumette would sweep around the stage. Now, after having to make an adjustment to Gaston’s shirt - thanks to an unexpected problem with the stitching - he’s finally able to allow his shoulders to relax a bit.

Marcus mimics the movement shown to him, keeping his arms still as Harry takes a step to examine the character’s signature red shirt with his fingers fiddling with the tip of the measuring tape hanging around his shoulders.

“Does it still feel tight around your chest?” Harry asks, noting how the stitching on the sides is not stretching anymore. “Or under your arms?”

“Nope,” Marcus answers with a pop, relaxing his arms back down when Harry turns to write something down. “Fits like a glove, mate.”

He clicks his pen down on the table. “Then we’re all good.” 

“So, I’m free to go?” He jumps down from the platform, loosening the black leather belt that’s fastened around his waist.

“You’re free to go,” Harry confirms after a double-check at the file sitting on the table, making sure there’s no other change that’s needed on his costume. “Just put everything back in the bag and hang it on the rack.”

“Yes, sir.” Marcus shifts with the curtains of the changing room before disappearing inside of it.

“And make sure the label is still stuck to it!” Harry calls over his shoulder, listening to the mumbled response before turning back to the files on his hands. 

While he waits for Marcus to return, he gathers everything he needs to leave. A quick look at his phone that was left forgotten on top of a roll of blue-dyed camel tells him it’s around four, meaning he’s just in time. Checking the pages he’s been focusing on, Harry walks to the rack, selecting the two bags carrying the costumes he still needs to make adjustments on, placing them carefully over his work table before making his way to fetch his backpack.

As soon as Marcus is out, he gives a double check to see if the label is still stuck to the bag he just hanged - not entirely trusting the cast’s attention to those details - before collecting his belongings and heading for the door. He bids his goodbyes on his way out, catching the attention of Alice, who’s standing on a platform near the door while Moyra works on the skirt of her yellow dress with a few pins placed between her lips.

“Going already, H?” She asks, her eyes big as she looks down at him.

He stops in his tracks with a hand on the door handle gnawing on his inner cheek as he turns to face her. 

As soon as he meets her gaze, he notices the subtle tinge of pink painting over her cheekbones. It’s something that Harry’s gotten used to by now when speaking with Alice. 

He could tell she was shy from the moment he got to meet the entire cast, always standing quietly to the side reading her script, keeping her chats restricted to the same two people (which is funny enough of a contrast with her stage persona, considering she has the main role). But with Harry, she’s always been especially timid, and it didn’t take too long for him to learn from Moyra that the girl had taken a fancy on him — if the blushing wasn’t a big indicator.

It’s sweet, he reckons. She’s lovely enough, from the limited amount of conversations they had, and Harry finds it that maybe if she opened up a bit it would be nice to get to know her. Julia’s the one that always pesters him about it, though urging for Harry to make a move from the moment he told her about the girl’s crush on him. She says his romantic side gets especially annoying when he’s lonely, and he knows she’s right, but would never admit it to her face. So he just brushes it off, saying he’ll take the time to talk to Alice.

Except now. Harry knows he’s on the clock if he wants to make it in time to meet you. The last thing he wants is for you to have to stand on the street because he got caught up in her mutters. 

So he keeps his grip on the handle, hoping it’s enough of a hint for the conversation to be cut short, as he motions his arm that holds the clothes’ bags at the crook of his elbow. “Yeah, I- Lisa let me work on these at home.”

“So you’re not having a drink with us tonight?” Alice rushes out, eyes darting up at him, and her blush gets a shade stronger. When her lips part again, her voice comes out a bit lower,  “It’s the last one before opening night, and you haven’t gone in a while...”

“Harry’s too cool to hang out with us.” Moyra barges in the conversation, glancing teasingly at Harry from over her shoulder as she takes the last pin from between her lips.

“Shut up, Mo.” He rolls her eyes slightly, grip tightening on the door as he prepares to leave.

Before he can do so, Alice speaks up, her eyes falling again to her fingers that poke at her nails. “You know, bringing work home sometimes can cause stress… And stuff.” She peeks up at Harry, shrugging slightly. “I read about it somewhere, anyway.”

“I think I’ll be fine, really, but thanks.” Turning the knob, he cracks open the door.  “Just got something today.”

Moyra doesn’t waste a second before blurting, “A date.”

“Don’t.” He warns with a sigh. “I’m seeing an old friend.”

“That’s nice.” Alice nods.

“Yeah.” He takes a step out, being painfully aware of how he’s a second away from being late. “Uhm, I gotta get going then.”

The girl looks up at him fully then, giving a small wave. “See you tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow, yeah, for sure.” He calls over his shoulder as he’s out the door.

The tube’s just starting to get filled again with people like Harry, who are likely on their journey back home. Shoulders tense and frowns scrunching their faces, they barely pay any mind to him as he finds a spot opposite to the exit doors — preferring to stay closer to them as to get off quicker. He leans against one of the many metal rails that outline the inside of the train car, his vans bouncing nervously as he adjusts the bags at the crook of his elbow, feeling as if today it’s traveling slower than usual. 

Picking up his phone to check the time once again, he’s met with a text. It’s not from you, as he’d hoped, but from Julia. A picture of her and Blake, faces squished together as they force a smile a bit too big for the camera, their hairs meshing together in a mix - Julia’s darker curls tangling with Blake’s shorter blonde locks - and Harry can just about make out the outline of a bright orange sofa from Blake’s living room behind them. The message that reads under it is short, yet playfully demanding.

Juls: impromptu movie night!!! bring chocolate!!!

He smiles down at the screen, but it quickly turns into a frown as he realizes that he won’t be able to make it. Biting down his bottom lip, his thumb hovers above the keyboard, not sure how to respond. There’s not a chance he can fully tell the truth to her, not over text. Even if he brushes over it, he knows his friend, and how nosy she can be sometimes — which has never bothered him before until he found himself in this position. He contemplates lying. A white one, there is. Just say he got caught up with work or something along those lies. Something he knows she’d understand. But the simple thought of it makes him feel guilty; as if he’s leaving her out.

So, he opts for the ladder, pushing the responsibility for his future self to deal with the interrogation afterwards when he sees her again. Maybe if he finishes the tv show she’s been nagging him to watch in time, it’ll be enough of a distraction so she won’t ask him many questions. His answer comes a bit slower than usual — not only due to his internal battle but also for finding it a bit tricky to type with one hand. By the time he clicks the send button, Julia has already sent enough interrogation points to cover half of the screen.

Can’t tonighttt got something...

Juls: what’s something

I’ll tell you later, send Blake a hug for me.

Juls: no :(

With a chuckle, he pockets his phone,  noticing he’s just a couple of steps away from his own. Once he’s out of the station, just a couple blocks away from his building, the bundle of nerves he’s been avoiding all day sweeps in. They’re not overwhelming, they don’t make his chest tighten or his palms sweat, no. They’re the nerves that give him a spring to his step, that make him take deeper breaths, and that speed his heart just the tiniest bit.

It’s a strange feeling to be going home with the sky still shining a clear blue, instead of the purple-pink that comes just before the sun hugs the horizon. A cloudless day. Thanks to the previous streak of rainfalls that washed away the angry greys. The colors painting his surroundings seem somehow more vibrant, more welcoming. The greens of the trees greet him with a gentle breeze. The maroons of the bricked buildings warm under the sunlight. Even the yellow and the pink of his dirty vans feel a bit brighter as he strolls around the corner of his block.

It’s almost like it matches the way he feels. And Harry knows that from now on, with spring at its peak and summer becoming more present, the weather is bound to become even more pleasant. He hopes it’s some sort of sign. Maybe the universe is getting gentler with him. He’d like to think that.

Part of him still dwells on the feeling the slightest bit, finding a strange sort of uncertainty over how quickly you’ve got at the palm of your hand again. He barely got any sleep after you left his house just thinking about it, actually. There’s no denying that your presence again has brought back the fondest memories of his teenage years. Ones he tried too hard to bury as to ease the ache in his heart that came with them for a long time. But now, having you back, it’s as if they’ve taken almost a hopeful feeling. The reminders of how close you used to be came crashing into him like a wave, enveloping him. That was the first time he ever opened up so fully to someone, after all. And that comfort of having someone that knows him better than he knows himself is something he craves so deeply within himself that, as soon as even the slimmest possibility of having it once again presented itself, he grasped it so quickly that now he’s afraid he’s letting himself dive too deep.

He’s so inside of his head, thoughts rushing inside his mind, that he almost glances over you when he finally approaches his building. 

Paying little to no mind to your cream trousers as you kneel on the sidewalk, a paper bag propped under your arm and a disposable cup holder in your hand hugging two paper cups, you focus on a collie that’s enjoying your hand caressing the fur down its neck. A gold pendant from your necklace reflects the weak rays of sunlight, glowing in a contrast with the black of the short-sleeved turtleneck you’re wearing, tucked under your trousers. 

It’s only when he lets his eyes focus on the company you have that he immediately recognizes the pup, as well as the older lady holding the leash while smiling down at you interacting with her pet.  

Margaret is one of the oldest residents of the building, taking a permanent spot at the very first apartment on the first floor. She was the first neighbor he got to meet, bringing him homemade jelly tarts on his first weekend at his apartment. They chatted for an afternoon and, after admitting he’s not the best cook, she vowed to bring him some of her dishes every time she could. And true to her world, around twice a week she knocks on his door with a warm trail and a sweet smile. Harry likes to visit her as often as he can, knowing she lost her husband a few years before he moved, and has no children to keep her company — that is, apart from her collie, Duchess.

“Harry!” Margaret is the first to acknowledge him with a grin, her voice causing your head to snap up from where you kneel. “You’re early today, my love.”

“Actually, I’m a bit late.” He chuckles, glancing at where you’re standing up while sweeping your trousers. “Sorry about that.”

“Oh! No worries, I just got here.” You brush it off, finding a place next to him before gazing back at Margaret. The older lady attempts to look discreetly between the two of you, brows arched, and Harry knows from the look in her eyes he’ll probably have to face another interrogation later on. Though, in this case, he’s sure she’s oblivious of your public image. “And, thankfully, I bumped into these lovely ladies who kept me company.”

“Stop that! You’re a very lovely lady yourself, darling.” Margaret reaches for Harry’s wrist as she smiles at you, giving it a squeeze, and he quickly nods, agreeing with her. She looks up at him, lips tight in a grin that’s enough for him to realize her assumptions about why you’re here, and, from the way you’re holding back a laugh yourself, he’s sure you’ve noticed, too. He clears his throat, gazing down at his shoes, trying to cover up the warmth that creeps up his neck, and that seems to be enough for Margaret to take a hint, letting his wrist go with another gentle squeeze. “I’ll leave you two be, Duchess and I still have to grab groceries before it gets dark.”

Harry scratches his nose in a nervous tick. “‘Ave a good day, Marg.”

“You too, Lovie.” She gives his hip a soft pinch before turning to you. “It was lovely meeting you.”

“Right back at you!” You answer excitedly, waving back as the older lady starts her stroll. “Have a nice walk! Bye, Duchess.”

For a second, you quietly watch the duo walk further away from where you stand. A faint hum of car engines can be heard, being cut only by the high-pitched voices of two children, seeming not much older than ten, as they appear at the other side of the street. The peek over your shoulder is quick before you turn your back to them, turning fully to Harry with a slight smile tugging at the side of your lips. 

He clears his throat again, adjusting the bags he’s still holding. “Hi.” 

“Hey.” You answer in a beat, nodding towards him. “Your hair is down.”

“It is, yeah.” His voice comes lower than he intended, the warmth still present on his cheeks, and he quickly motions towards the front door. While fiddling with the side pocket of his backpack in search of his keys, he picks up as you lean into the bricked wall next to the entrance.

“It looks great, really! Wasn’t expecting it to be this long.”

“Yea, I- Thanks.” He shoots you a look once he fetches the keys. “Have been growing it out for a few months now.”

You give him a knowing hum. “Any reason for it?”

The click of your boots against the wooden steps echoes around the narrow walls of the building’s staircase. Harry leads the way up, climbing the steps in a bit of an awkward position as he tries to look back at you.“Uh, not really, no.”  He shrugs. “Just having fun with it, I guess.”

“That’s how it’s supposed to be!” You exclaim. “It really compliments you, I mean it.”

“Thank you.” He rubs his nose, coming to a stop as both of you reach his front door. “You- Uh, I- You look very nice, as well.”

“Oh!” You look down at your outfit with a chuckle. “I rarely go around this fancy, but I had a meeting today.” You brush it off. “Which is also not an excuse for me to dress up but I didn’t know most people there so I had to make a good impression, or whatever.”

A dimple pokes at his cheek as you ramble, a habit you seem to haven’t lost. He unlocks the door with ease, pushing it in and motioning for you to walk in. “‘S nice, very pretty, I- I mean, your trousers are very pretty.”

Your smile grows as you support yourself on the wall while toeing off your shoes. If you notice the blush on his cheeks, you don’t mention it. “Thank you! Means a lot coming from you, you know?”

“Yeah?”

“Well, you’re the fashion student, after all.” He’s not sure why your answer comes in a bit of a letdown, almost as if he was expecting you to say something else. “By the way, I got us some goodies on the way. Didn’t know how you like your coffee, so I just took a wild guess. Here, try it— If you don’t like it you can have mine, it’s a cappuccino, very sweet.” You worry your bottom lip between your teeth, watching for his reaction as he sips on the hot beverage. “So...?”

“It’s perfect.” He takes another small sip of the cup you handed to him, trying not to make a face at the slightly bitter taste that comes with it (he’s still not the biggest coffee fan, if he’s honest). He makes his way to lay the bags that now have slid down his elbow at the arm of the couch. Noticing you’re still standing awkwardly by the front door looking around, he points at the counter next to him, quickly sweeping his arm over it to brush the stack of papers to the side.  “You can set everything in here, please feel at home.”

This is the first time you properly get to have a look around his place, which is weird enough of a concept when you take into consideration it’s not the first time you’ve come here (and the flash memory of that night alone is enough for you to fight back a cringe). You recall the path to your right leading towards the bathroom where you spent an hour sitting inside his bathtub before having to answer a not-very-pleased Sonia calling your phone. The rest of the place, however, is a bit of a blur in your memory, so you take this moment to take in his home.

Surely, the space itself is quite modest, but it doesn’t mean there’s not a lot to take in. From your position across from him, the island separating the two of you, you can still scan most of his living room. 

You like that it’s not completely tidy (those sorts of crystal clean homes always freak you out a bit). Upon a first glance, it’s clearly the residence of an undergrad. A couple textbooks pile on top of a center table. A shut laptop sitting next to the cushions on the navy blue couch. Even a few houseplants amongst picture frames spread on shelves and stands. It’s cute, you think, but you barely sweep your eyes over those details.

What calls your attention are the glimpses of the life you’ve missed on. It’s the magazines decorated with sticky notes. It’s the rolls of fabric peeking out from the couch arm. It’s a box of yarn tucked in the far corner, on top of other boxes that are shut closed. Those details seem to have replaced his canvases and paint sets. It makes you wonder if he still keeps them hidden somewhere. If there’s still anything left of the life he had the last time you saw him. 

Oddly enough, you smile at the thought. Somehow glad that he found his passion, even if you weren’t there to support him through it. And it brings you back to why you’re here in the first place. Make up for the lost time.

“Thank you for agreeing to do this here.” You speak up as you focus back on taking the sweets you so carefully picked out from inside the bag (you weren’t entirely sure of his dessert preferences now, which caused the slightest rise of panic as you tried to decide on what to pick from the vast array of options). “I know it’s weird to ask you to, like, have me at your house instead of just meeting at a cafe, but the one I usually go to is closed for renovations and I get a bit wary at, uh, public places.”

“It’s alright, I don’t mind having you here.” A small grin tugs at his lips, and it’s hard for you to ignore the warmth that comes to you with it. 

You clap your hands together, gazing around quickly before focusing back on him. “So! I finally get to properly see your place— sorry about that the other night, by the way, I don’t know what I was thinking.”

He chuckles. “It’s really okay, like I said, don’t mind having you here.” He repeats, clearing his throat. “It’s, uh, not that big but-”

“I love it, seems so cozy.” You interrupt before he can go on any further, hating the way he feels the need to apologize to you for something like the size of his home. “And it’s a perfect place to have just for yourself.”

“Actually, I-” His lips stay apart for half a second before he continues, blurting the next words out as if it’s a confession, “I have a flatmate.”

“Oh!” You blink in surprise, taking a second to process the information. 

Of course he does. Why did you even think otherwise? Most people share flats these days. Despite that, the possibility of him living with someone didn’t even cross your mind. It’s hard to ignore when it comes to you the riskiness of it. Whoever this flatmate is, you don’t know them, and the possibility of them spilling anything makes you a tad uneasy. It could easily ruin any possibility of a friendship with Harry before you can even get close to him again. 

There’s a wave of anxiety that hits you with the prospect of being the cause of his face printed on the cover of money-hungry tabloids, but, before you get deeper in your own nerves than you already have, you sum what’s left of composure within you to ask,  “Do they... Have you told them about-- well, me?”

He tears up a piece of banana bread, picking at it as he shakes his head, clearly unaware of your change in moods. “Not, really. She’s at her girlfriend’s for the week, so I haven’t been able to see her.”

You try to hide the way your eyes widen the slightest bit with the information that said flatmate is a she. “Is she a fashion student as well?”

“No, she’s a journalist. She works— well, interns for a music magazine, actually.”

Of course she’s a fucking journalist. When you think it couldn’t get any worse. “Anything that would ring a bell?”

“I don’t think so, they’re quite small.” He shrugs, sipping at his coffee.  “Don’t even have an office, they do most of the work online.”

“That’s interesting.” You nod, nails picking at a few crumbs dotted around the counter. Scrunching your lips, you try to consider how to word what you’re about to say. Knowing this conversation would have to be brought up eventually doesn’t make it any less awkward for you to have it. You peek up at him from under your lashes, only to find his oblivious state as he smiles back at you. “Harry… Can I ask you for a favour?” 

“Course.”

Inhaling deeply, you attempt not to let your voice come out as calculated as the words that roll out of your lips are. “Could you… Just for a bit, not mention anything about me to her?”

Harry’s expression falls to a frown. “What do you mean?”

“Just--” You pause, resting your cup down before turning to face him fully. “Just for a little while, I-- You have to understand that I would like to be a bit more private… About us?”

“Us?”

“Our friendship… I-” There it is again, the gust of panic. It makes you spit out the words before you can even process them,  “I wouldn’t want any headlines.” 

This only seems to worsen everything it seems, as Harry sits back on his stool, putting more space between you two. He shakes his head, “Julia would never do that.”

“I’m sure she wouldn't!” You rush, attempting to fix it. “It’s just… She could mention it to someone, and-- I don’t know, these things get out of hand really fast.” 

“So you want me to lie to her?”

“Not lie.” You chew at your bottom lip, sure that you’re a word away from getting kicked out. “Just, not to mention it… Just for a little while, it’s not like it can be a secret forever.”

“Right.” He slowly starts to nod, falling quiet for a beat too long. “Sure, yeah, okay.”

You exhale in relief, softening your expression. “Thank you.”

A silence falls between the two of you and, for the first time since your reconnection, it’s not much of a comfortable one. You have to swallow back the guilt that threatens to take over, knowing the awkwardness is mainly your fault for dealing with your request in such an awful way. Of course, you would have to have the privacy talk with Harry eventually, ideally being sooner rather than later. But asking him to lie and insinuating that his friend could use you to sell her magazine is most certainly the worst way you could’ve chosen to go about it. And there’s nothing to stop yourself from feeling completely stupid while picking at the brownie in front of you.

There’s a part of you, one that comes a bit louder now, that ponders if even bother continuing this in the first place; if it wouldn’t be better to spare him the burden that the simple association with you will bring into his life. You know it would be easier, better for him even, if you just collect your stuff now and walk out the door to never contact him again. If you excused this meeting as a lapse of rationality on your part. And just like that, you could let him go on with his regular life, having to come to terms with him painting a picture of you as another arrogant celebrity that just toyed with him for a bit before she got bored. It would hurt, sure, but this part of you tries to reason that it’s the best you could do for him.

Another part, though, a more selfish one that is, can’t bear the thought of standing up from your stool and just simply turn your back to this as if it never happened. No, you can’t bring yourself to do that. Not when meeting Harry again has brought you a sense of comfort you hadn’t even realized you’ve been lacking for months now. Not when he feels like the only person who doesn’t have an image of you shadowed by this big bright monster of fame — one that calls everyone’s attention before they can even take a proper look at you. You know he doesn’t need that, because of all the versions you present of yourself, he’s one of the few people that know which is the real one. 

This part of you makes you act thoughtlessly, letting your emotions speak louder than your brain. It makes you want to follow the immediate sense of relief that comes in knowing there’s no need to change anything to fit an imaginary narrative someone has made of you. There’s no need to do that with Harry. You’re so desperate to keep that ease that comes with being in his presence, that any thought of how it’ll eventually come crashing down on you is pushed to the back of your mind.

Worrying your lip between your teeth, you risk a glance up at him. To your relief, there’s not a crease between his brows like you expected. He doesn’t seem upset about your question anymore, his shoulders relaxed while he focuses on tearing a piece of the banana bread and shoving it into his mouth. The realization makes you straighten your posture, a sudden rush of determination flushing through your body. You’ve come here to get to know him again, and you’re not letting a poor start weigh you down. And, as your gaze falls to the costume bags lying across the couch arm behind him, an inquiry that has been floating through your mind comes back to you.

“So…” You clear your throat, leaning your elbow to rest on top of the counter as you rest your chin on your palm. Harry’s eyes shoot up at you, and you grin a bit as you point to the spot behind him. “Are you going to tell me a bit about that?”

His brows frown for a second as he looks back, finding the bags that called your attention from the moment you saw him on the sidewalk.  “What would you like to know?”

“Well, last time we spoke you were talking about working in a gallery.” You circle your cup in your hand, bringing it up to your lips but not yet taking a sip.  “And now, I have the information that you dropped out just a wee after; how did that happen?”

"It took a while for it to happen, actually.”  He crosses his arms on top of the counter, leaning in slightly. “Dunno if you remember but, uhm… This might be a bit awkward.”

Your brows raise towards your hairline, his words only enhancing your curiosity. “It’s okay, whatever you feel comfortable sharing.”

“I don’t mind it, just- well, after we broke up,” He starts, clearing his throat as his gaze searches for yours, eyes flickering between your own in search of a reaction. He was right. This is awkward. You try to remain a calm expression, nodding in encouragement for him to continue — although you want nothing more than to flinch at the words. “I was, uh, well, sad.” He lets out a quick chuckle. “A friend of mine- James, dunno if you remember them- they recommended a knitting group class kinda thing that they were in every Wednesday, told me it was quite therapeutic and calming, and stuff.”

“That’s cute.” You comment, trying to brush off the way your chest tightens at the brief mention of his feelings post-breakup, knowing how hard it was for both of you.

He smiles at you before continuing, “Got the hang of it pretty fast, actually. James was right being therapeutic. After a bit, I started going twice a week.” He reaches to brush his fingers over a napkin. You watch as his fingertips slide gently along its edge. “The lady that taught it, Laura- you’d ‘ve loved her, used to bake us biscuits every week. She had graduated in fashion, actually owned a boutique for a good fifty years.”

“Holy shit,” Your lips part in awe. “Can you imagine doing something for that long?”

“‘S exactly what got me thinking.” He peeks up at you, lips twitching up. “Around that time I was so confused about what to do with an art degree, and I realized it wasn’t really something I saw myself doing for decades on end.” 

Understanding, you give him a warm smile, toying with the lid of your cup as to not reach for his hand. Even though you weren’t around anymore at the time the events he’s describing took place, you still remember how confused he was right from the start. Harry’s always had an artist in him, and that’s something that wasn’t hard for anyone to see, but it was clear then how he wasn’t completely satisfied with his path. Back then, before you two parted ways, you recall thinking he was still adjusting with uni, and that eventually, he’d find his passion within the arts. It never occurred to you he might not be in the field he loved, after all. 

Looking back at it now, it makes sense.

“Laura helped me a lot during that time. She was the one that even introduced fashion as a possibility for me, we would talk for hours.” It’s hard to miss the fond smile that tugs his lips at the memory. “She even started inviting me for a cuppa outside of class hours, answer all my questions- even the stupid ones, she was really patient. Was almost like a mentor of sorts.” 

“She sounds like an awesome human.” Your voice is gentle, admiring how the words come out of him with an admiration that makes you warm all over.

“She was.” His eyes fall to his hands. Your expression softens, suddenly noticing how he’s been using the past tense when talking about her. “She told me once that sometimes making a career out of a hobby is not always the way to go, you know? Takes away the fun of it if you feel obligated to do it. It was then when I decided to switch.”

“Were you scared?” 

“Terrified.” You two laugh. “I was choosing a path that I’d never even considered before. It was so new, I was so scared I wasn’t making the right decision. It scared me that maybe fashion wasn’t also my thing, you know? Cause if it wasn’t, then what?”

“I get that.” You risk resting your hand next to his, sticking your pinky out to brush against his. He quickly interlaced them, smiling down at the gesture. “I’m glad it worked out, and you found something you’re passionate about.”

“Me too.” He replies, mimicking your position as he brings the hand that’s not enlaced with yours to rest under his cheek.

You smile, and he smiles, too.  

//

“Why can’t we just stay in tonight?”

The question leaves your lips in almost an annoyed huff. The third one in the last five minutes. Aya doesn’t spare you a glance this time, her eyes focusing solely on sweeping the white eyeliner over her eyelid as she finishes the last few touches of her makeup.

Her apartment is lit up with a golden glow, the lights having been lowered and the flame of a couple of green lavender candles helping set the relaxing energy of the room. It’s the primary reason you love staying at Aya’s; her place is always cozy, no matter which house of hers you’re in (even though you have a softer spot for her New York apartment). And it helps to have company, since your place has been uneasily empty lately. 

The original plan was simple: make dinner while catching up with the last Game of Thrones season. You’ve been looking forward to it all week. After days of hopping from long meetings to recording sessions, only to go home to your cold bed, reuniting with Aya was the one thing that kept you from catching the first flight back to London as soon as your errands were dealt with. So, it’s hard not to express your disappointment about having to attend some dinner party a good thirty minutes away from her warm apartment.

The thing is, the suggestion didn’t even come from Aya, but rather a surprise guest you weren’t even expecting to be here at the same time as you, Claire. 

And it’s not like you don’t like Claire, you do, well, you try to, which is the best you can do for now. She's been friends with Aya for a couple of months and, with Aya, it’s not that hard to become friends with her, if you’re honest. So you never really bother to keep track of the ones that come and go as quick as the pendulum of a clock. It’s something you’ve grown used to with the years of friendship. But unlike most of them, Claire seems to have stuck like an annoying piece of gum at the bottom of your boots.

In reality, you know it’s unfair to her to be annoyed when she’s really done nothing wrong. The sole reason for you two not mashing that well is more of a conflict in personalities than anything else. Usually, you manage to ignore that in order to keep at least somewhat of a friendly relationship with her during nights out -- more for Aya’s sake than yours. And sometimes you even enjoy her presence! When she’s not surrounded by big groups of people  (rare) and doesn’t feel the need to be obnoxiously loud for no reason, at those times when it’s just the three of you, she’s actually quite nice to talk to.

But now, you honestly wish you could glue her lips together and quite literally kick her out the front door. As she rushes around the place, - from the walk-in closet to the bathroom to the bedroom and so on - her voice so loud in attempts to speak over the playlist she put on just over two hours ago. The mesh of noises is so much you’d be sure no one heard your complaint if it wasn’t for Aya’s reply just a minute later.

“We stay in every day.” You watch as she bends over the sink, getting closer to the mirrored wall as she applies her lipstick carefully. With a smack of her lips, her eyes meet yours in the reflection. “I think it’d be good for you to go out.”

“Just two months ago you were complaining about how much I go out, and now you complain that I don’t go out enough?” You arch your brows, fully aware of how whiny you sound.

“Well, not my fault you don’t know how to balance your social life.” She focuses back on herself, opening a product you can’t make out what it is and tapping it against her cheekbones. “It’s either going out every single day to the point of no sleep or becoming a hermit inside your house.”

You pout. “I’m working, you know tha-”

“It’s cause she only goes out with her LA friends now, Meme.” Claire blurts out as she appears from inside the closet, holding one of Aya’s transparent coats. You keep a straight face as you turn to look at her, trying not to cringe with her nickname for Aya. She seems oblivious of your annoyance, though, making her way to lean on the archway leading to where Aya’s finishing getting ready. “Now it’s all about Dora and - what’s his name?”

Aya interrupts before you have the chance to bite back, “It’s not even that, C, think she’s found something more interesting keeping her in London.” 

The smirk she shoots you from over her shoulder makes you avert your eyes, a blush creeping up your neck, warming all the way to the tip of your ears. The knowing look on her face could almost make you entirely flustered, as if she knows exactly the reason you’ve been so comfortable staying in London by yourself — especially now that the sole thought of being alone sends a tight grip to your chest. But you know there’s no reason for you to be nervous about it. You haven’t told a single person about your reconnection with Harry yet, somehow feeling an odd sort of protectiveness over it. And you’re not sure why this new flame of happiness still feels so fragile to you, so delicate, that a simple, outspoken word to the wrong person could take it away from you. 

And oh, how scared you are of it being taken away as quickly as it came to you.

So you’ve kept it within your grasp for as long as you can. Away from prying eyes and greedy hands. It’s the one thing that you have now that feels just yours, the one part of you that no one else knows about. That’s the sole reason you even asked him to keep it a secret in the first place.

Still, that doesn’t mean that people around haven’t noticed the sudden change in you — as small as you thought it was, it surely didn’t go unnoticed by those that know you so well. Sonia was the first to mention it. When you couldn’t keep yourself from checking your phone every five minutes during a studio session, she had teased you about it. You brushed it off, and she made no more comments about it, thankfully. But you didn’t miss the looks she gave you every time you excused yourself to make a phone call.

With Aya, though, you know it won’t be as easy to get her to disregard your behavior. You hoped she hadn’t caught on when earlier in the afternoon she nudged you about being all smiley while reading a text (Harry had just sent you a picture of Duchess wearing a knitted vest he’d made for her and you had it open when Aya peeked from over your shoulder to see what you were looking at, so you just said it was a message from your sister before quickly locking the screen). 

However, after her comment, you’re sure she’s clearly aware that something’s up. And, knowing Aya, you’re aware she won’t drop this subject until you tell her exactly what it is that’s keeping you in London. Before she has the chance to poke further, you’re saved by none other than Claire, who did not pick up on Aya’s grin shot towards you. Barely registering the meaning behind her words at all, actually, as she makes her way to sit at the foot of the bed. “Well, whatever it is, I think I might have something to keep you here with us.”

Thankfully, Aya drops the subject, only widening her eyes slightly at you, almost in a warning at what’s coming. “Here it comes.”

You frown, glancing from your friend that stands opposite you to the girl that’s scooping closer to where your legs rest. “What do you mean?”

“I know you’re still having a hard time after Noah.” The words spill from her lips and you almost choke on your own saliva at her bluntness. There was a sort of silent agreement between you and Aya about not mentioning your ex by name. So hearing it being outspoken without expecting it surely comes in a bit of a shock. But Claire still seems oblivious of it, only reaching to grip right under your knee in what’s supposed to be a reassuring gesture, you guess. “But it’s been so long now! Maybe you need a little push with, like, getting over him.”

“A push.” It’s hard to keep the affronting expression that tugs down your lips.

“Someone.” A squeeze to your knee. You want to push it off. “There’s this guy-”

That’s it. You close your eyes with a deep breath. “Claire-”

“Before you say no, listen to me!” She holds out her hands, in a habit of gesturing her words when she explains herself. “There’s this guy, okay? He works with my brother at NYT and I met him a couple of times, and- Just listen! The whole time we were talking, I could only think of you! I was like ‘oh my god, she’s gonna love him’ cause he’s totally your type!”

You scoff, glancing over at Aya who’s clearly trying to keep herself occupied. “Is this why you’re dragging me out tonight?”

Her deer-in-the-headlights eyes meet yours in the reflection. “Hey, I have nothing to do with Mr. Perfect here. As I said, I just think it’d be good for you to go out.”

“Just meet him, okay? You don’t have to go out on a date or anything just-” Claire brings your attention back to herself. “Just talk for a bit, see if you click. I think it’ll be good.” Her voice gets softer, shoulder dropping. “I’m just trying to help.”

There’s not an ounce of you that wants to engage in any sort of small-talk filled conversation, having close to no patience in getting to know someone new at this moment of your life. The prospect of having to sit and pretend whatever this man is going to tell you about himself interests you for god knows how long is enough to make you want to swim all the way back to England in your stilettos. But it’s clear that Claire’s intentions with this are far from malicious in any way, and you can’t help but feel bad for lashing out at her. So you just sigh, letting the words fall from your lips before you think about it enough to regret them,  “Okay.”

Her face lights up. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, sure, I’ll chat with him.”

She squeals. “You’ll love him! I’m telling you-”

“Claire,” You interrupt before she can get ahead of herself. “You sound like you’re envisioning a wedding already. I agreed to chat. That's it.”

“Chat. Okay, it’s a start.” She nods, a smile too big for her face before squealing again, throwing a look over her shoulder. “Right, Meme? Don’t you think it’ll be good for her?”

“Please, I’m just the audience in this conversation.” She calls back, turning to face you after a second to motion to the coat sitting on Claire’s lap. “Is this the coat you chose?”

Claire jumps from her spot in the bed at the mention of it. “Yes! What do you think? Wait- I’ll try it on, see if you can still notice the pink details on my dress.”

The girl bolts towards the walk-in closet where there are larger mirrors she can see herself better on and, just as she turns her back, Aya shoots you a wink before following her. 

You relax back into the arrangement of pillows, another sigh leaving your lips as it comes to you what you’ve just agreed on. Sometimes you wish you weren’t so easily persuaded by a pair of puppy eyes, knowing the consequences of it almost always have to do with you doing something you’re not too comfortable with. Your eyes shut close and you have to refrain from rubbing your face as not to ruin the makeup Aya applied so carefully. The night has barely started and you already feel exhausted mentally. Not wanting to dwell on it further, you make a mental note to yourself: learn how to say no.

Turning your face, you pick up the phone that was left forgotten next to you during the chat with Claire. To your surprise, the screen lights up showing a text from Harry received just about five minutes ago. You try not to sit up too suddenly, as not to call attention to yourself, while you swipe your thumb over the screen to open the message. 

A smile tugs on your lips before you can even read what it says, simply reacting to the picture attached to it. The first thing you notice is his hair, poking out of his head in a messy mesh resembling somewhat of a mane. You bite back a giggle at the thought. His face is lit up, mouth parted in an open smile as he gives a thumb up to the camera. You take a moment too long looking at his face until you realize what the picture is meant to show. You. Next to him, on the screen of his telly, grinning with the blue sunglasses you wore to the music video shoot.

The text under it is short, but it causes the most beautiful flowers to bloom under your chest.

H: Found this cutie while browsing todayy

H: Looks familiar? ;)

//

“That’s definitely too much.”

You glanced back at Harry as your eyebrows shot towards your hairline, challenging. His own face mimicked your expression, peeking down at the cup of flour in your hands before meeting your eyes again. With his locks being pulled up with your hair tie, it’s hard to take him seriously after you’d teased him about resembling a sprout when he first walked into the kitchen, ignoring his protests to playfully sweep the tiny bouquet of curls with your finger.

“How many times do I have to tell you, this is the exact amount?” You replied, trying to keep a straight face.

“How do you know? You’re not even measuring it!”

“It’s a muffin, Harry, how difficult can it be?” You rolled your eyes in feign annoyance, turning the cup into the mixing bowl before he could protest it. “I can do it by eye just fine.”

“This is chaotic.” He scrunched his nose, shaking his head in disbelief at the cloud of flour that floated through the air at how abruptly you threw it. “Making a bloody mess, you are.”

“Yeah, yeah, now tell me what’s next.”

He exhaled a chuckle, secretly enjoying your antics, before turning to check the open recipe book that sat on the counter. His finger followed the words written in instructions, and you observed with amusement the crease forming on his face as he attempted to decipher your nan’s handwriting. It took him a second before he clicked his tongue, “We should’ve mixed the wet ingredients first.”

“Does it make a difference?” You bit back a smile, knowing your words would get a reaction out of him.

And, as you predicted, Harry’s face turned into an appalled expression. “Does it make a difference?” He repeated your question, astounded. “Of course it makes a difference!”

You giggled, reaching for the milk carton. “I’m sure the muffins will be fine if I put in the milk after the flour, they won’t even notice.”

“Christ,” He shook his head again, a few curls falling loose against his forehead with the motion. “Baking with you is going to make me go gray by the time I reach my twenties.”

This time you let out a full laugh, mouth falling open in fake offense. “You’re so dramatic!”

Harry smiled, then, both dimples poking deeply into his cheeks as he reached to take the carton from your hands. You two finished mixing the batter, taking a bit too long to get it inside the oven as you enjoyed pestering Harry in the process a bit too much. Every so often someone walked into the kitchen to pick up some drinks or leave dirty dishes by the sink, checking in on the both of you with that smile adults always give you when you’re with Harry (usually followed by some corny joke about young love that made you roll your eyes).

It was the day of one of the barbecue parties your parents always threw at the beginning of summer break. They would invite their closest circle of friends to spend the day in your back garden, usually followed by a ‘luau’ (as your dad called it, even though it was definitely not a luau) once your parents got tipsy enough to bring out the guitars and light up a fire. 

When everyone was a tad lethargic from lunch, relaxing back into their chairs as the sun felt hotter as it shone proudly on the cloudless sky, you had the idea of baking your nan’s recipe of blueberry muffins.

Usually, the tradition of baking a dessert to be freshly served in the afternoon was left to your mum and sister -- who was almost passing the age in which she wanted to have a hand in everything to call attention to herself. But you were faster this time, volunteering to do the task, and dragging Harry with you, as you were eager to have some time alone with him without having someone interrupting to ask him yet another football question that left you bored out of your mind.

So, you take advantage of having the kitchen to yourselves, bumping your hips against his as you two swept the counter quietly, cleaning the mess you’d made earlier. Your aunt had just left the kitchen after making one of those comments regarding marriage that are meant solely to embarrass both of you, and a faint blush was still visible on his cheeks. It made you want nothing more than to reach up and press your lips to them, only to feel the spot of his dimple deepening with a smile.

The air was smelling sweeter when you threw the dirty cloth inside the sink, leaning back into the island as you watched Harry crouch to peek inside the oven. You couldn’t help the grin as you noticed the muffins spilling out of their cases as expected. 

“Told you it would work out.”

“I don’t know how you do it.” He stood, resting a hand on the counter next to you, leaning into it. “Do absolutely everything wrong but still manage to make it work.”

“Hey!” You giggled, pushing him softly with your hand as you dragged out the word. “I did absolutely everything right just… In my own way.”

“Yeah?” His finger twirled on the hook of your jeans, pulling at it as he moved to stand in front of you, keeping a hand resting on the counter next to your waist. “The world bends its rules for you, it seems.” Pressing a peck at the corner of your mouth, he mumbled, lips close enough that you could feel every word caressing your skin, “Don’t blame it, though.”

You chuckled. “Oh? Do you bend your rules for me too?”

“Of course,” His nose tickled the apple of your cheek, causing you to shrug your shoulder slightly. You felt his warm breath as he exhaled a laugh, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek. “Would never let anyone else butcher a batch of muffins in my presence like you just did.”

“Harry!” You cried out, shoving him off playfully. “I’m never baking for you ever again, you can starve during lunch from now on, see if I care.”

He laughed again, leaning down to bite the tip of your nose before you quickly tried to push him away. “Stop, baby, you know I’m just joking.”

“Too late now, you already lost your dessert privilege.”

“Ouch.” Harry pouted, attempting to pull his puppy eyes to get you to budge, but you simply raised your brows at him, chewing your inner cheek to prevent a smile from growing on your face. He started to lean down to press his lips on yours but he could barely move before the doors leading outside slid open again, startling both of you, causing Harry to quickly step back.

Your sister’s face peeked up curiously from her spot at the door frame, a juvenile smile teasing at her lips at the scene she’d just interrupted.

“What do you want, Ly?”

Lyla shot you a condescending look from your harsh tone, “I’m not here for you, dumb face.” She took out her tongue, and you rolled your eyes — sometimes she’s too much of a thirteen-year-old. “Auntie Sue said you were done and Harry promised to help me with a project.”

“A project?” You raised your brows, glancing at the boy next to you who was already adorning a guilty smile on his face.

“I did promise that.”

“It’s a secret project!” Lyla’s voice raised to a higher pitch.

“Okay, then.” You sighed, looking between the two of them before setting your eyes on Harry again. The pout is clear in your voice as you speak up,

“Seems like your presence is being required.” You nod towards Harry’s vibrating phone that sits on top of the table behind the two of you.

“Oops, sorry.” He shoots you a guilty smile before reaching over his shoulder for the device.

You avert your eyes as he glances down at the screen, focusing on the sunrays that peek from between the leaves of your green fence, painting the tips of the grass gold. It’s been just over a month since your first coffee date (you only call it that for lack of a better word) and, with summer just around the corner, the days are beginning to stretch longer. The sun is still bright and proud as the afternoon meets the evening. There’s a warmth that’s not yet too insufferable, but more like welcomed after months of endless drizzle and sharp winds. 

It’s perfectly fitting for a nice lazy day like this one. 

This is the first time you got to properly have him around for the day. Despite Harry having wrapped his term just about a week ago and your agenda keeping you in London for the next few months, both your schedules only seem to have gotten tighter. You spend most of your time during the week inside the recording studio — the sessions dragging into the evening hours more often than not, as you find yourself too caught up with them. Meanwhile, Harry’s back to working his regular working hours now that Act One has officially started working on the productions for the summer season.

Surprisingly, though, you fell into a routine of sorts quite easily. You still chat every day, not limiting your communication to texting alone (though you still love receiving Harry’s random pictures throughout the day), but also making phone calls most days once both of you have finally settled in bed after long working hours. And it’s not like you’re not able to see each other with these scheduling complications, it’s only that those hangouts are limited to either weekends or early evenings. 

On the two-week mark, after you met again, you could finally take him to the proper coffee hangout that you’d promised. The cafe in question is one you’ve been going to for over a year now. A friend recommended it, and you instantly loved it for how hidden it is, and most frequented by an older audience — which means you’re able to sneak in and out with no hassle. You took Harry there on a Sunday morning, and it surprised you to find that the place is actually much closer to his flat than your house. So, after cups of iced coffee and shared muffins, you two walked all the way to his place, enjoying the laziness that allows people to sleep in as the week reaches an end.

That was one of your favorite days with him. It had been a long while since you allowed yourself to simply relax during a walk; forgetting how it feels to be aware of every corner you turn. That’s the easy thing about being with Harry, you’ve found the simple concept of relaxing. He allows you to let your guard down, to enjoy those things you’ve once taken for granted. The ones that bring a sense of normalcy that can easily be overlooked by those who don’t get to experience the other side of it. It’s something you’re sure Harry doesn’t even realize he’s brought back to your life, but you still show your silent gratitude in any way you can.

It’s what made you invite him to your house for lunch in the first place. It didn’t go unnoticed to you how most times you end up back in his flat and, as much as he repeats how he enjoys your presence there, it doesn’t stop you from feeling the slightest bit self-conscious about it. 

“Shit.” Harry mutters under his breath, his fingers tapping swiftly on the screen, a frown deepening on his face.

Raising your brows, you wait a second before speaking up, afraid of interrupting whatever it is that has him alarmed, “Everything alright?”

“Julia’s making dinner tonight.” He replies, eyes scanning the device in his hands before sighing. “Completely forgot.”

“Oh. Is it, like-” You pause, glancing down at your phone that’s left forgotten in your lap, pressing the home button to check the time. The screen lights up, letting you know it’s just around six, meaning Harry’s been over for just about seven hours now. “Shit, I’m so sorry, didn’t mean to keep you-”

“Don’t apologize.” He locks his phone, shooting a reassuring smile your way. “My fault, really. Just completely slipped off my mind.”

You nod, watching him gnawn at his bottom lip, brows meeting in a frown as he gets deep in thought. Parting your lips. You don’t let any word out at first, afraid that if you do, he’ll remember it's time for him to go back. There’s a selfish voice in your head that wants to ask him to stay a bit longer, to not part ways yet, to just call off on this dinner. But you know better than to say any of it out loud, opting to suck in your lips instead, as if the words could just slip out without your consent.

Harry sighs, and you can’t help but let your shoulders fall, knowing what’s coming. “I should get going.” He picks up his empty glass, pocketing his phone as he stands with a huff. “Julia’s not very happy that I’m late.” He chuckles. “Again.”

Laughing, you get up from your chair as well, patting the back of your thighs as you feel your skin a bit sore from sitting for so long. Before you can answer him, however, your attention snaps towards the opened door leading to your kitchen, as a small figure comes rushing towards you. You feel the soft fur against your legs before you can properly register the pup circling you. Once you realize what’s going on, as the familiar black spaniel greets you, you freeze in your spot, glancing from the dog that now jumps excitedly on Harry’s legs to the door where he came from.

“You didn’t tell me you had a pup.” Harry smiles, his voice getting a higher pitch as he kneels to pet behind his ears. “Hey buddy, where did you come from?”

“I don’t.” You reply, walking towards the house as you search for the owner who’s likely already found her spot in the kitchen.

“Huh?” You hear from behind you as you stride towards the house. 

Surely, as predicted, you spot her hiding halfway inside your fridge, back turned to you. You notice how Bella’s blonde locks are way shorter since last time you saw her — now stopping just above her shoulders. As surprised as you are, you don’t comment on it, simply staring at your intruder of a friend as you try to figure the situation in hand. 

This isn't exactly how you’d planned to introduce Harry to your friend group. Well, shit.

Bella doesn’t pay any mind to you at first, but certainly senses your presence as she speaks out from over her shoulder. “Hey, did you not buy any more greek yo- Oh.” She stops as she turns, just in time when Harry walks in with the dog cradled in his arms. Her eyes jump between the two of you as she pushes the fridge’s door to a close. “Hi.”

“Hello.” You shoot her a look.

Harry puts the pet down, “Hi.”

“Uhm,” You stand awkwardly, playing with the rings hugging your fingers. Bella raises her brows in a silent question and you sigh. It’s not like you can do anything now. “Harry, this is my friend, Bella. Bella, this is Harry.” You motion your arms between them as you introduce one another.

Harry clears his throat. And you can only suppose how confused he must be, considering you mentioned nothing about a friend visiting today. But it’s not like you were aware of it, either. Bellas and you are at that point in your friendship in which you don’t find the need to announce your visits anymore, simply making yourselves at home every time both of you are in town.

He glances at you for a second, before nodding at your friend. “Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise.” She grins politely. There’s a beat of quietness that no one really knows what to say next, and you can feel a silent pressure for you to break it. When you don’t, Bella points vaguely to a spot behind her, “Uh, I can come back tomorrow…”

Your lips part as you try to stop her, but before you can do so, Harry beats you to it.“You don’t have to, really. I was just leaving, actually.” He scratches his nose. “I don’t mean to intrude on anything you two have planned…” 

“Oh, no, that’s not it!” Bella rushes.

“We have nothing planned.” You assure him, glancing between your friends. “Bella just comes to visit whenever she’s in London.”

“Yeah, I was the one interrupting.” She backs you up, clicking her tongue. “Should’ve called first.”

"That's okay.” You tell her.

“Well, I hope you two enjoy the rest of your day, then.” Harry nods, eyes meeting yours as he mutters, “I really need to get going.”

“Oh, yeah, of course.” You say, “I’ll take you to the door.”

With one last wave to Bella, he follows you as you guide the way towards the front door. You open it for Harry, allowing him to step out first before you let it close behind you — as to avoid the dog from running out. Leaning back against it, you shoot him a small smile.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know she was coming.” You point back. “She has the keys so…”

“That’s fine.” He reassures, hands hiding inside the pocket of his jeans. There’s a second of silence, as you two just enjoy each other’s presence for a little before having to bid your goodbyes. You can’t help but let your eyes fall to his shirt once again — although being a simple white tee, the words I spread like strawberries embroidered to it have been haunting you all afternoon. Once your eyes move up again, you don’t find his, as he glances down at his shoes, a cute reddish tone painting the apple of his cheeks. When he speaks up, he peaks up at you from under his lashes, “I had a lovely time, as usual.”

“Me too.” You bite down a smile, tilting your head. “As usual.”

He nods, looking over his shoulder before back at you. Chewing down the side of his lip, he asks, “I’ll see you?”

You try to think of a date to give him, knowing as summer progresses your schedule will only get tighter with the studio sessions. “Uhm, probably sometime at the end of the week, maybe? I’m a bit busy, but I’ll let you know.”

“Alright.” He nods, staring for a second before stepping forward to embrace you into a hug. “Take care, love.” His words come out a bit muffled as he squishes his face on the crook of your neck.

You giggle as the strands of his hair tickle the side of your face. “You too, H.” 

Pulling away, he steps backward, pointing at you in a playful warning. “Still owe me a lemon tart.”

“Gotcha.”

Taking a deep breath, you watch for a bit longer as he walks away, waving a last goodbye before disappearing back inside your house. You give yourself a moment to prepare for the wave of questions waiting for you as soon as you step back into the kitchen. 

You find Bella twirling on a stool propped next to the island, spoon in her mouth and an open package of greek yogurt sitting on the counter. As soon as you walk in, she stops, pulling the spoon out as her brows shoot towards her hairline. She doesn’t wait a second before questioning, “So…” A smirk grows on her face and she points vaguely with her spoon to a spot behind you. “Harry?”

You groan, taking a seat next to her. “You were not supposed to walk in on that.”

“Well, I’m sorry! How was I supposed to know?”

“I don’t know, maybe try calling?”

“I never call before coming here.” She challenges, and it’s true. Picking a spoonful of yogurt and shoving into her mouth, she watches you for a second. You simply glance back, aware of her expectant stare attempting to pry you to speak up first. You watch her swallow, lips quirking as you refuse to give what she wants. She raises her brows again, this time voicing her question, “Is he…?”

You shake your head at her implication. “No, he’s… A friend.”

“That was a pause.”

“Well, he was my ex before he was my friend.”

“An ex? Is he-” Bella frowns for a bit and you can almost see the wheels inside her head turning. “Holy shit! Is he The Harry?”

Now it’s your turn to form a crease between your brows, confused. You don’t recall ever mentioning Harry to her. “Don’t know what you mean by The Harry, but, yes, he was my first boyfriend.”

“You’ve told me about him before.”

“Have I?” You blink at her. “When?”

She thinks for a second before pointing the spoon in her hand at you.“Yes! It was in one of your Halloween parties- actually, right after it.” She looks over at you, only to find a confused expression still settled on your face. “The one we had a sleepover, and I broke your lamp.”

“That was two years ago, yeah, I remember.” As much as your Halloween parties have a tendency of meshing together in your memory (as they’re mostly the same apart from one or two remarkable occurrences), this one in particular you remember quite well as it was the first time Bella slept over at your house. In the middle of the night, she knocked on your room to ask you if she could sleep with you. Her words were coming mumbled because of the alcohol still affecting her bloodstream. The two of you barely slept a tick that night, as you spent hours whispering stories to each other and, at one point, she got so excited as she was telling you about some sort of vacation she had taken (you don’t remember it that well) that she elbowed your lamp causing it to shatter as it fell. You try to rack your brain to find any recollection of mentioning Harry that day, but all that comes to you is the two of you falling into a fit of giggles when you told her about a past hookup of yours. This only causes your frown to deepen. “The party, I mean. I don’t remember mentioning Harry.”

“You were drunk.” She shoves her spoon inside the yogurt as she speaks. “Was sitting at one of the patio chairs, scrolling down on your Instagram page and you saw a picture of him, think you said it was his sister’s profile? I don’t know. But you were whiny for like an hour because of it.”

“What?” So it was at the party? You have a flash of panic, wondering who else was there to hear you whine over your ex boyfriend. “I have absolutely no recollection of this.”

“It was cute, really.” She tries to comfort you, still focusing on her pot of dairy. “You didn’t say much- you weren’t making a lot of sense, really, but I remember you saying he was the first person you were in love with. Didn’t know he was your first boyfriend.”

You fall back into your seat. “Yeah… That’s him.”

“How long were you together?” Bella glances back at you, brows peaking in curiosity. 

“Almost four years.”

“What?” Her eyes bulge. “How come you never told me that?”

“Don’t know, was a bit of a sensitive topic, I guess.” You know it was. The only reason why you refrained from mentioning him to anyone for a long time was because of the tightness in your chest that followed the sound of his name. “But yeah, we started dating right after his fourteenth birthday.” The memory comes to you as a smile. “His birthday’s in February and he asked me on Valentine’s day, was really cute. I don’t think anyone thought it would last that long at the time.”

“That’s super sweet.” She whines, her shoulders falling as she huffs. “Ugh, I hate love.”

You chuckle. “Same.” 

“So you broke up when you were, what, eighteen?”

“Yup.” 

“Was it because of distance and stuff?”

“Pretty much, yeah.” You think back to the time you two started drifting apart, a thought you haven’t revisited in a long time. “We were already very distant even when we were together.” Shrugging, you try to push back the heaviness in your chest. “Guess we were just meant to go different ways.”

"That's poetic.” She nods. You assume she’s noticed the way your voice has taken a lower tone, as her own grows a pitch, shoving you as she tries to cheer you up. “But now you’re together again!”

Breathing out a laugh, you roll your eyes slightly. “We’re friends.”

“Right.” She doesn’t sound convinced. “But, you know, you went each your own way and somehow crossed paths again. Do you know what that’s called?”

You close your eyes, already familiar with your friend’s antics. “Bella…”

“Fate.”

“Oh my god.” You shake your head at her, hoping she doesn’t notice the blush that creeps up your neck.

“I’m just saying, if I were you, I wouldn’t let this opportunity escape.” She bites down her empty spoon to hide the smirk that grows on her lips. The way her brows wiggle before she says anything allows you to prepare for what's to come. “I mean, with all due respect, he is very fine.”

“I knew it was coming.” You pucker your lips to avert from smiling, trying to seem casual before confessing, “But yes, he looks really good.”

“The long hair? The tattoos? Girl!” Her eyes widen. “If he wasn’t your ex, I would’ve been saying some really inappropriate stuff right now.”

You groan, hiding your face behind your hands. “Please, don’t.”

“I said ‘would’!” She emphasizes the word as she tries to pull your hands away from covering your eyes. “I’m only thinking about it, relax.”

Rolling your eyes again, you nod towards her half-empty pot. “Eat your yogurt.”

//

The air inside the flat somehow is warmer than the outdoors. The large windows opposite the kitchen are wide open to have some sort of breeze flowing around to relieve the heat coming from the stove. A generic scent of fried dough dances around the small space with it. It’s one that Harry recognizes from past times that Julia’s made the dish, and it makes his mouth water as soon as he steps inside.

Julia’s at her spot in the kitchen taking care of the food, her back turned to him as she bumps her hips along with the beat of a song he doesn’t recognize. Next to her, Harry recognizes Mitch’s back reaching for the small pile of plates inside the cabinet with Blake standing right behind (he assumes because she’d asked for his help with the task, considering she usually has a hard time reaching the last shelves). 

Their voices mesh together as they seem too lost in their conversation to notice Harry’s arrival. Right as the door clicks closed, however, Blake takes the plates from Mitch’s hands, turning to catch Harry right as he toes-off his shoes.

“Look who’s decided to show up!” She speaks up, calling the attention of both friends that still stood oblivious of the boy that now sports a guilty smile. Blake raises her brows at him, setting the plates on top of the island counter. “For what do we owe this honor?”

“Finally!” Julia barges before Harry can even start with the apology he went over in his head during the entire tube ride. “I was completely outnumbered in this discussion. Tell them that our plates are nice!”

He stops right by the edge of the kitchen tiles, furrowing his brows at his friends’ request. “What?”

Harry tries to search for an explanation from Mitch, who simply leans back onto the counter with his arms crossed, and an amused smirk painting his lips as he nods towards Julia.

The girl has turned back to the stove, a colander spoon in her hand moving the pastries around inside the pan filled with oil. She huffs before she explains, eyes trained on the stove, “They’re being incredibly rude, calling our plates tacky!”

Without even looking at the plates in question, Harry chuckles. “Oh, is it the floral ones?”

He confirms his assumptions when glancing at the dishes set on top of the island counter. The collection was sent by her parents around the new years after her visit for the holidays — she’d told them about how they cracked most their dishes at the edges and they sent in a full set as a replacement. And, as much as both of them found the action heartwarming ly thoughtful, they both had a good laugh upon opening the box when it first came in. 

Because they were, after all, a bit tacky. 

Each has its edges painted with a different color, with matching roses circling around it. To make matters worse, the center of them have each a different phrase. Harry couldn’t make sense to them at first, as they’re written in Portuguese, but from what Julia’s translated it doesn’t go far from those catchphrases you can find at the Live, Laugh, Love side of Pinterest.

That’s something Julia very openly makes fun of her parents about; what she says is their lack of taste for just about everything. And Harry was very aware of the fact, not only by the way she teases them to no end about it but also by her choices of presents to send back home (for instance, that god awful umbrella -- may it rest in pieces). With their time together as flatmates, it’s almost become somewhat of an inside joke between the two of them. 

But, as much as both of them have taken the piss about it before, they still have a fondness heavily attached to them. So it’s understandable Julia’s annoyance at their friends’ tease, especially when both bark into laughs at Harry’s question.

“You’re not helping!” Julia throws him a look from over her shoulder.

“I’m sorry, I just wanted to confirm!” Harry raises his hands in surrender as he watches the girl roll her eyes before focusing back on the pan in front of her. He pulls one stool next to the one Blake’s taken for herself, sitting on it before glancing down at the dish in front of him. He spins it slightly with the tip of his finger, watching the yellow roses move with it. “But Jul’s right, stop attacking our plates.”

“I wasn’t attacking them, if I have any right to a replica.” Mitch moves from his spot to take the stool in front of Harry. “If I recall correctly, I even said they were very charming.”

“Your sarcasm doesn’t impress me, Rowland,” Julia replies from her spot, not looking back. “Just say they're ugly already! Since you guys hate them so much!”

Blake shoots Harry a knowing look, a smile poking at her lips from being too used to her girlfriend’s dramatics. She pushes her stool back, standing before she walks over towards the grumpy girl who’s now focusing on taking out the pastries and laying them on a trail that’s covered with napkins. Embracing her from behind, she presses a kiss between Julia’s shoulder blades before whispering something just for her to hear.

Harry watches them for a second, not helping the part of him that wishes he could have someone like they do. It verges a tragedy, he thinks, to be a hopeless romantic and not be in love.

"Food is ready!" Julia speaks up, her voice this time taking a higher pitch. Harry doesn’t miss the look the couple exchanges before finding their seats across from each other.

Julia sets the trail in the center. The pastries take a half-circle shape and are organized neatly in two rolls, their golden crust looking very appealing, making Harry realize how hungry he actually is.

“So, explain to me,” Mitch begins, nodding towards the dish. “What are those guys?”

“These, my dear, are called pastel- you know, like the color shade,” Julia explains, picking up one of them. “They’re basically, like, a pastry. You can stuff them with anything you want, really. I made the most common ones which are cheese- the ones on this roll- and meat.” She points to the rolls showing where each one line. “We usually have them as, like, a snack, but I was really missing them so I made it for dinner. And we also eat it with sugarcane juice, but y’all don’t have it here,” She shakes her head. “Tasteless.”

“Sugarcane juice?” Mitch raises his brows.

Julia goes into one of her rants that Harry’s heard about a hundred times before by now — the ones that come up every time she talks about her country, which he finds rather cute how passionate she gets when talking about her culture. His head shuts off for a bit, though, already knowing the information by heart, as he focuses on his groaning stomach. 

For a moment, they just eat while having more of a casual chat. Julia rambles for a good portion of it about her life back home, and, soon enough, they all share their own experiences that make them miss their hometowns. It makes for a nice bonding experience, four people from different spots in the world that found themselves in London at the same time. All sharing a meal as they recall the parts of them they left behind when they choose to leave. For a moment, Harry forgets all about the apology he’d rehearsed on the way back from your house. 

It doesn’t even slip into his mind how he escaped any sort of immediate interrogation about his whereabouts. He’s even naïve enough to think that maybe Julia’s even forgotten about it as well, thanks to the plates’ discussion. 

Harry soon finds himself to be wrong, though. And the worst of it all, it catches him completely off guard.

The group has just quietened down from a story Mitch’s told from back in the days he used to work in a pizza place. Blake’s just offered to clean up the dishes, standing from her stool as she collects the plates. Harry hands her his, glancing at her as he mutters a quick ‘thank you’. He doesn’t notice the way Julia stares at him, eyes narrowed and lips puckering, as she leans into the counter. It only calls his attention once she speaks up, her words coming out slow but almost calculated, as if she’s been thinking about voicing them for a while, “So, H, are you gonna tell us what’s up?”

He doesn’t realize what she’s referring to at first, only furrowing his brows in his confusion. “Huh?”

“Don’t ‘huh’ me, Styles, you’re hiding something.” She points at him and that’s when he realizes, breath hitching on his throat. “And I think that something’s actually a someone, so spill.”

He hears Blake chuckling from her spot at the sink. “Guess we’re going straight to the point, then.”

Harry tries to even his breath, holding back the urge to bite down at his bottom lip as not to show he’s nervous. “What makes you think that?”

Julia grins as if she’s been waiting for him to ask that. “Well, should we go over the list? You suddenly have a life outside, barely stay at home, you’re almost always late to hang out— and that’s coming from me, a Brazilian- oh! You’ve also been baking?” She puts out a finger at each topic on the list, emphasizing the last word as if it’s the most absurd concept to grasp. “And I caught you taking a selfie the other night, which would be odd on itself if I wasn’t sure that you sent it to someone right after.”

Harry nods slowly. “Okay. You kept a list.”

“So?”

“I-” He feels himself panicking, not knowing how to explain himself. On one hand, he hates lying, especially to people he loves. He also knows how upset Julia gets when people lie to her, considering honesty is one attribute she values the most in a person. So the prospect of not only going against one of his own principles but also letting down one of his closest friends, almost makes him sick. But he gave you his word that he would not tell anyone until you were ready to do so. And he wants to keep his word and respect your wishes, knowing that if he doesn’t, it could mean losing everything he’s gotten back these past months. It could mean losing you. So for a moment, he stays there, lips parted but not saying anything. There’s gotta be some sort of middle ground.  “There’s… Someone, and-”

A loud thud comes as Blake drops one plate inside the sink, turning around with wide eyes and soapy hands. “What?”

“I knew it!” Julia slaps her hand on the counter as she exclaims, her mouth dropping in the shape of an ‘O’. “I knew it! How do you get a girlfriend without mentioning it to me? I thought we were friends?”

“I don’t have a girlfriend.” Harry blurts out.

“How could you keep this from us?” Blake comes to stand behind her girlfriend, her face still wide in shock before she turns to Mitch. “Did you know about this?”

“I did not have any involvement in this, no.”

Julia continues her inquiry, “Who is it?”

“Jul-”

She interrupts Harry before he can properly form a word, “Is it that girl from work? The one that had a crush on you? What’s her name again-”

“Julia, please.”

“Alice!” She snaps her finger, her grin widening as she looks at him as if she just solved an enigma. “It's her, isn’t it? Did you finally make a move? Oh my god.”

“I- It’s-” Harry’s fully panicking now, eyes moving quickly between his friends as they stare at him, waiting for a confirmation. Is this the middle ground he wanted? No, he thinks to himself. This will only make things worse. He should just say he wants to keep it private for now. It would annoy them, sure, but they’d have to understand, right? It’s the rational thing to do. But Harry’s not working with rationality at the moment, and his mouth works before his brain does, “Y-yeah, it’s her.”

Blake gasps. “Harry!”

“I can’t believe you!” 

He needs to fix this. “We’re not dating.” 

“Yet.” She points before squealing, reaching a hand over her shoulder to hold Blake’s wet ones while placing her other over her heart. “Look at you! They grow so fast…”

“Please, don’t.”

“Babe, let him breathe for a bit.” Blake breaks her hand from her girlfriend’s grasp, reaching for a napkin and using it to dry her hands. She smiles at him, “I would like to see a picture of her, though.”

Before he has the chance to answer, Julia’s already talking, “You should’ve invited her to come today! There’s enough food-”

“No, it’s… Uh, it’s not like that.” Harry tries to come up with something to explain himself as not to dig a deeper hole than he already has put himself in.

Blake frowns. “What do you mean?”

“Just-” He pauses, glancing between his friends. They all show different stages of confusion. “We’re taking things slow.”

Julia rolls her eyes, “Harry, you’re already the slowest person I know.” She states as a matter-of-fact, shaking her head at him. “With your pace, we’re getting this relationship announcement in five years.”

He huffs, the insistence annoying him a bit. Maybe it’s because he knows the more they keep this subject, the deeper the hole he can get himself in. So he simply avoids feeding more into it, choosing to ask her instead,  “Why are you so obsessed with the idea of me in a relationship?” His eyes meet Blake’s in a silent plea for an intervention.

“Because I want to have cute double dates!” Julia whines.

Mitch deadpans, “What’s this, then?”

“Okay! We have desert!” Blake seems to find her cue to barge in, clapping her hands together before continuing, “And it’s made of chocolate!”

Harry smiles at her, shooting her a look of gratitude. “Chocolate sounds perfect.”

“Sounds marvelous,” Mitch adds.

Julia, however, is not dumb. She narrows her eyes slightly. “You guys are changing the subject.”

Her girlfriend barely bats an eye at her statement, though, only squeezing her shoulder gently, “Babe, why don’t you tell Mitch about brigadeiro? I’m sure he’ll love to hear it.”

The girl sighs, shooting Harry another knowing look before giving up on the subject for the time being. He only gives her a small smile, watching as she begins to tell Mitch all about desert. 

Well, he really dug himself a hole with this one.

//

Harry loves Sundays.

This is funny enough of a statement, considering how he used to despise it when he was younger. Back when he knew it meant that he’d have to be up early the next day to walk the cracked sidewalk leading to his school, fighting to keep his eyelids halfway open. The entire day would feel like a countdown (just eight more hours until the weekend’s over!). The only thing that made the day the slightest bit enjoyable was that he used to visit his nan every Sunday right after breakfast. He still remembers how he and his cousins would sit in front of the telly with their toys scattered around them, the entire house adorned with the scent of vanilla.

He’s not sure exactly when the switch of opinion for the day happened, but he knows that you’re one of the main reasons for it. Sunday’s were your days. They were the only days in which you were sure to be free from babysitting duties with your sister, hence why there was a silent agreement that settled between both of you to spend it together. So you reserved Sundays for the two of you. And Harry’s sure some of his fondest memories with you happened on a Sunday.

So it was hard not to love the day when it brought you to him every time.

Although years have passed, his attachment to the day hasn’t faded. Especially now, when you seem to fit back into his Sundays just as perfectly as you used to. 

The cafe smells just like his nan’s house used to when he first walks in - the only major difference being the scent of coffee that meshes with the vanilla in the air. It’s the third time he comes with you here and, just like the previous ones, there’s a surprisingly low movement for it being mid-morning. Most of the customers that frequent it, as you’d informed him the first time you took him there, are elders. There’s a couple right at the door enjoying the cloudless day at the chess table that’s carefully prompted just outside the cafe that bids good morning as the younger pair passes by, not paying much attention to them. Meanwhile, inside, the other four or five customers that sit scattered around the armchairs barely bat an eye towards them as they walk in, focusing only on their newspapers or crossword magazines that sit in front of them as they quietly sip on their drinks.

Despite you not sharing loads with him regarding your public image, from what he could gather, it’s clear how much you value your privacy. So it’s easy to understand why you enjoy coming here, as your presence comes and goes as just another one. 

And he quite enjoys it too, especially noticing how carefree you get in a space you’re comfortable with. Usually, on other few occasions, the two of you go out to public spaces that you’re not as used to, it’s clear how alert you are, even if you’re enjoying yourself. You limit yourself to plain clothes to not call any attention, always with what’s become your signature big sunglasses shielding part of your face -- you even wore them when you went to the cinema to which, although Harry understood the reason for, he didn’t refrain from teasing you about it. 

But today, you abandoned the hoodies and large shirts in various shades of grey. Harry knows the riskiest part of your day in being recognized would be the short walk from his building to the cafe. Still, that thankfully didn’t stop you from going back to your usual wardrobe. Instead, you’re wearing a white dress with red stripes lining along your curves, the skirt flowing all the way down your calves, showing the white sneakers covering your feet. The sunglasses are still present, of course, but you quickly push them up as soon as you walk inside.

Harry watches for a second as your eyes scan the menu written on the wall behind the counter, chuckling to himself as he knows you’re still going for the same order as usual. Before you can step closer to voice your order, however, he says, “Go find a table, I’ll get your order.”  You glance up at Harry, brows shooting up, challenging. “Medium iced coffee and a chocolate muffin.” He grins proudly as he recites your order. “Anything else?”

“No, that's it.” You bite back a smile. “You’re not paying for me, though.”

Of course, you’re insisting, he thinks, already shaking his head. “You paid last time and the time before that and, if I recall correctly, you didn’t let me have a say in it when I tried to intervene in either of them.” Harry pokes your side, nodding towards the table area. “So, go get a table. I’ll be right there.”

Narrowing your eyes at him, you stay silent for a beat, clearly debating whether to keep insisting. “Fair enough.” You sigh, walking backward as you point at him. “But I’m paying next time.”

Chuckling, he keeps his eyes on you for a tick longer to catch where you’ve sat, his face warming the slightest bit once you throw him a wink as you settle back in the chair. Once he places the orders for the both of you, he notices some drawings stuck to the wall behind the counter as he waits for them to be done with. They all have a clear childlike trace to them, some more than others, and Harry assumes the more abstract one must’ve been done by a younger child. He smiles to himself, finding it an adorable addition to the place, even if it could easily go unnoticed by an inattentive eye.

“They’re from my granddaughter.” The barista smiles at Harry as he places two cups on top of the counter, nodding back towards the artwork that caught his attention. “Just turned eight. Loves drawing.”

“They look lovely.” 

“This one, actually,” The barista points to one that seems to be more recent, as it’s stuck on top of the others. It shows what looks like two girls holding hands; a smaller one holding a heart on her free hand, and a taller one with a star on top of her head. The man nods to a spot over Harry’s shoulder, “It’s her and your friend, she’s a big fan.”

“Really?” Harry’s lips part in surprise. “That’s very sweet.”

“It’s how I found out she was known.” The man lets out a low laugh, opening the display to reach for a muffin. “Millie was proper mad that I didn’t know who she was when she came to visit, but your friend was a sweet thing, signed her shirt and everything.”

Harry smiles at the story. “Sounds like her.”

“Sure does, seems like a lovely lady.” The man’s attention gets called as the front door opens with a ding. He shoots Harry one last smile, “Duty calls. Enjoy your coffee.”

Harry reaches for the cups with one hand, picking up your pastry with the other. “You too, have a good one.” He feels the words slip before he can register them and, as he realizes his mistake, he quickly turns to head for the table, eyes wide and a blush tainting his cheeks.

You lock your phone, setting it down as soon as Harry approaches the table. He sees a grin twitching on your lips as you glance up at him and he avoids your gaze, knowing it’ll only worsen the warmth on his face.

“What’s got you all flustered?” You ask, your voice verging a laugh.

“Stop.” He scratches his nose in a nervous tick. “Just told that man to enjoy his coffee.”

“Oh, no.” You burst into a fit of giggles and he peeks up at you, holding back a laugh himself as he shakes his head — he loves making you laugh. “C’mon, H, everyone does that. I’m sure he didn’t even notice.”

“Still embarrassing.”

“Just a bit.” Biting down at your bottom lip, you squint your eyes, pushing the muffin towards him. “Here, have a bite, you’ll forget all your problems.”

He breathes out another laugh, reaching to pick a piece of the sweet before shoving it into his mouth. Soon enough, his embarrassment gets lost in conversation, the rosy tone on his cheeks no longer making themselves present from shame but from laughing too hard from something you say. You two get lost in your little bubble for a good while, taking your time sipping on your drinks. Every so often, Harry steals a bite from your muffin — at first, he does it just to have a piece, but once he gets a reaction out of you, eyes narrowing at him adorably as you scrunch your nose in feign anger, he does it just to watch you.

There’s no better way of learning about you than watching, he’s found. One of the biggest changes that he noticed upon getting close to you again, is how you seem to have closed up in a way. And it’s difficult to catch on. He figures that someone who didn’t know you years ago probably doesn’t even realize how much of yourself you keep bottled up. You’re a rambler, that much is easy to pick up. But Harry’s realized that as much as that part of you remains intact, your chatters become much more superficial. You talk about specific events and memories but always narrate it as if you were a mere expectant. You rarely go into detail about your personal life all that much.

Apart from the day you were drunk on his bathtub, he’s barely got a glimpse of feelings regarding him. 

So, he resorts to picking up those bits and pieces you let escape without realizing. He enjoys noticing you (and he’s aware that’s a bit creepy of him, but he can’t help it). How you mention you light a candle before going to sleep cause it helps calm you down. How you refer to your friends with the fondest smile picking up on your lips (but also how you let slip out you only have a person or two that are close to you because getting to know new people makes you anxious). How you always smile at dogs whenever you are — sometimes you even wave at them. How you have the habit of circling your drink in your hand when you’re comfortable, much like you’re doing right now.

The last one always warms his chest. He’s realized you only do it when you let your guard down, allowing yourself to get lost in your world without having to be alert all the time. For all you know, the world outside this small table could’ve stopped spinning and neither of you would notice.

Maybe it’s why you don’t pay any mind to the two teenage girls that enter the cafe. Not until both of them stand right next to the table.

It’s the call of your name that snaps you out of your head. The girls barely blink as they stare down at you, their mouths agape in shock as they hold each other’s hands. “Is it you?”

Harry thinks there’s a flash of panic in your eyes, but it’s gone as soon as it comes. You smile as you stand, and he doesn’t fail to notice the way you turn your body slightly to shield him. “Last time I checked, that would be me, yes!” You chuckle. “What are your names?”

“I’m Lauren.” The taller one speaks up, her hand clutching her phone so tightly her knuckles are almost white. She looks down at the other one who simply stands there, wide eyes not leaving your figure for even a second. Once the other says nothing else, Lauren answers the question for her. “And she’s Georgia. She’s a bit nervous cause she’s a big fan.”

“That’s very sweet, thank you so much.” You tilt your head a bit. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“You too,” Georgia says, her voice trembling and the hold on her friend’s hand. “Uhm, do- could we- if it’s not too much of a bother, could we get a picture with you?”

“Uhm, I don’t think it’s the best time right now, I’m sorry, loves.” Your voice is soft as you talk to them, but it quickly takes a more joyous tone as you suggest, “But I’d love to sign something for you if you’d like?”

“Yeah, if you can! If not, it’s okay, really.” Georgia nods, the words all but stumble out of her mouth. “Sorry for bothering you.”

“It’s no problem at all! It’s a pleasure to get to meet both of you.” 

Harry tries to watch discreetly as not to call any attention to himself, recalling what you once said about not wanting headlines of the two of you. So he only peeks up when you turn to fetch a pen from inside your bag, meeting your eyes for a second before you turn your attention back to the young fans. You chat with them for a little as you sign their phone cases, and he can’t help the tug in his heart at seeing you being so attentive to them.

“There we go.” You say as you hand Lauren her phone.

“Thank you so much!” Georgia exclaims, and even from his spot, Harry can make out a glossiness in her eyes. You pull her into a hug. “You’re really, like, one of my favorite people.”

“I’m honored.” You giggle as you back away, giving her friend a hug as well. Softening your voice once again, you keep a gentle hold to the girl’s shoulder, “Just one more thing, I’m sorry to have to ask you that but, would you mind not posting about this location?”

“Of course!” They say in unison, and Georgia is quick to add, “I wasn’t planning to!”

“Thank you for understanding.” You nod with a smile. “It was really lovely meeting the two of you! Hope we get to see each other again. Enjoy your day.”

The girls bid their goodbyes to you, and you give them one last wave before retaking your seat. Harry observes how you keep an eye on them for a beat longer before meeting his gaze, an apologetic expression adorning your face.

“That was sweet.” 

You sigh, “That was unexpected.”

“Thought that kinda thing happened a lot.”

“It does, just-” You pause, frowning your lips slightly. “Never happened in here.”

You tap your fingers against the wood of the table in a nervous tick, bringing your other hand to your mouth as you bite down on the nail of your thumb. It’s clear how alarmed you’ve gotten now that the girls are gone, eyes scanning every bit of the room. Looking anywhere but to Harry’s own worried ones. He doesn’t need to be able to read minds to know that yours is probably rushing right now from a simple glance at your face.

He reaches for your hand on top of the table to call your attention. Once you snap your gaze back on his, you let your shoulders relax a bit. He gives your hand a gentle squeeze, “Are you alright?”

“Yeah! It’s just…” You try to brush his worry off, glancing back at the entrance before sighing again. “Do you think we could take this back to your place? Is Julia there?”

He shakes his head to your last question, “Of course, it’s not that far, anyway.”

“Thank you.” Your expression softens as you move to gather your belongings hanging from the back of your seat. “I’m sorry, I always do this.” Your shoulders fall, the edge of your lips frowning down.

“Hey, how many times do I have to tell you?” He bumps his arm against yours as both of you stand to get you to relax. “You don’t have to apologize, I understand.”

“I appreciate it.” You nod, but the crease between your brows doesn’t ease. “I just want to avoid a possible mob in case they end up posting about the location.” 

Harry tries to ignore the way his heart drops at your words. He wonders how many times you’ve been caught in a situation like this that ended up badly. “I get it.” 

The way back to his building is much different than when you were coming to the cafe a few hours ago. It’s noticeable that you’re tense as soon as you step outside, the sunglasses earning a permanent spot on your face for the time being. Even with your eyes covered, however, Harry still notices how you take in your surroundings almost cautiously. He tries to bump his hips against yours every time you do it, trying to distract you from your worries. It helps, as you shoot him a smile every time, bumping your hips back.

Screams from a nearby park call both your attention as you get closer to his building. As the day approaches the late hours of the morning, people have decided to enjoy the rare dose of sunlight that gave a break to the frequent rainfalls that cloud the city. On the other side of the road, children run around in a playground as their parents watch them from near benches. A few runners make their laps on the sidewalk lining the edge of the block as well as dog-walkers that take more of a stride sort of walk.

“Such a nice day.” You say, glancing down at the floor ahead to allow your hair to cover a bit more of your face. “It’s a shame we have to go back inside.” 

It breaks his heart to hear the way your voice takes a lower tone. He tries to meet your eyes, “Can tell you’re beating yourself up about things out of your control.” Harry pitches your arm, his next words coming out in a playful warning, stretching the word as to get you to smile.  “Stop it.”

“I can’t help it.” You let out a humorless laugh, coming to a stop at a corner to wait for a red light so you can cross. He looks down at you, but you keep your gaze trained ahead. “It is kind of my fault, you know?”

Harry frowns. “Except it’s not.”

“Thank you for trying to make me feel better about it.” You give him a small smile, shaking your head. “But in a way, it is. I know it is. And I don’t mean to complain about it or anything! Cause I’m aware of how privileged I am to get to live my dream and all that… It just-” You shrug. “It’s not always a field of flowers, I guess.”

“You’re allowed to not love every second of it, doesn’t make you ungrateful.” He argues, his hand meeting your shoulder as he gently turns you to face him. “Especially when it comes to all this privacy stuff, you deserve to have your space.”

“I know that but...Well, I signed up for it, you know? I knew my life would never be just mine once I started getting big.” You adjust the glasses on your face. Harry’s close enough that, if he focuses, he can see your eyes under the dark lenses. “And in a way, I’m used to it now, I’ve learned how to live with it.” You sigh, frowning at your lips. “What makes me uneasy when stuff like this happens- what makes me want to keep a low profile when we’re out, it’s not to protect me. It’s to protect you.”

Him? “Me?”

“Yeah…” Your voice is small, almost shy as the confession leaves your lips. Clearing your throat, you avert your eyes down as you quick some loose pieces of concrete from the sidewalk. “It’s the same with my parents or to Lyla or anyone that doesn’t have a life like mine.” You explain in a rush, trying to cover the timidity that warms your cheeks. But when you continue, it’s still clear in your tone, as the words come from your lips in almost a shame, “You don’t deserve to be exposed to all of it just because you’re part of my life. It’s not fair to you.”

It takes Harry a second to let it sink in. To understand the whole reason behind your uneasiness when going out. Why you’re so adamant about keeping your ties to him a secret. Why you try to separate him from your public side.

All this time. You’re doing it to protect him.

There’s no denial of how the confession brings a tightness to his chest. He knows it’s not what you mean to do. But he can’t help it when you sound as if you could be a burden in his life — when, in reality, it couldn’t be the furthest away from the truth. So his shoulders lump as he watches you keep your gaze away from his again, lips frowning down as he uses every ounce of self-control within himself to not pull you to him.

Instead, he ducks his head, trying to find your eyes under the lenses of your glasses. When he speaks up, his words are soft, to embrace you in a way he can’t physically, “Is this why you get so stressed about going out in public? Why you asked me to not tell anyone?” You look up at him at the question and he adds, “To protect me?”

“Of course.” You reply as if it was obvious all along. “W- Did you think it was… Something else?”

“I-I don’t know.” From his peripheral vision, he can see cars coming to a halt as the streetlight turns red, but neither of you makes a move to keep walking. The world around doesn’t matter right now. “I think I just assumed you didn’t want the media assuming…” He motions vaguely with his hand. “Anything.”

“Well, yes, to protect you from that.”

“You-” He shakes his head incredulously. There’s no denial of the bouquet of butterflies that bloom on his stomach at the prospect of you wanting to protect him. At how you say it as if it’s obvious that you’d do it in the first place. Almost treating it as if it’s your duty to do so. But he also can’t help but feel the slightest bit of guilt from it, knowing how this is the main reason that gets you anxious when you’re together. His hand reaches for your shoulder again, caressing it in silent gratitude as his expression softens, “You don’t have to do that, to stress yourself because of me. Do you know that?” 

“But I do.” You’re quick to argue. “You don’t know what it’s like, H. People are brutal. I won’t have them pestering you. I won’t have that.” There’s a clear quiver in your voice at the last few words, and Harry has to fight back the lump on his own throat at the sound of it.

“Love-”

You push up your sunglasses so you can fully glance up at him, “I’m serious.” Your eyes are set, stern, as you lock them on his. But they’re also getting glossy at the edges. “I won’t let them get to you too.” You whisper.

“It’s not your duty, love.” Harry insists, hating how you’re clearly beating yourself up for it. “I can take care of myself in case anything happens.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” The smile that tugs on your lips is weak, and you shake your head. “If you knew what it would be like...” You trail off.

“Is this why you don’t have any friends with- uh, a regular life?” Harry cringes at himself but doesn’t know how else to word this without making you feel abnormal.

You nod. “Pretty much, yeah.” 

“I understand where you’re coming from.” He says, eyes trained on yours as he wants you to take in every word that he speaks. “I do, but you maybe you shouldn’t allow those people to dictate your happiness.”

You give him a sad smile that twists his heartstrings. “That’s not what it is.”

“It’s what it seems like.” He argues, desperate to get you to understand where he’s coming from. 

The more he takes in the way your eyes water and your lips twist, shoulders falling almost in defeat — as if you’ve accepted the responsibility that you’ve weighed upon yourself — the more he has to hold back his own emotions. It’s clear the toll that this position takes on you; you’ve told him about it before. You’ve told him how you barely have anyone that you consider close — those in the industry being too worried about building their own careers on top of each other’s backs for you to be comfortable sharing any meaningful exchange (apart from very few exceptions). And now he knows why you don’t find these ties with people that have a life outside the spotlight.

 “Doesn’t it get lonely?” He questions out loud.

“All the time.” You let out a humorless laugh. “People don’t realize how lonely it can be to have a career like this.” It comes as a vent and you take a deep breath, your hand quickly coming up to wipe the sides of your eyes though there’s yet a tear to fall. “Like, yes, you have this big team with you, and everyone fawns over you everywhere you go, but-” You pause, exhaling. “After the shows, and the lights, and all that...In the end, when you go to bed, it’s just you and your pillow.”

Harry doesn’t stop himself now, taking the step to close the gap between the two of you, arms circling around you as he pulls you to him. “I hate that you have to feel like this.” He mutters into your hair, feeling you melt into him. Angling his head a bit so his voice doesn’t get muffled, he whispers, “From now on, you have me, yeah? If you ever need anything- anything, I’m just a call away.” 

You hug him tighter at the assurance, your own words coming in a breath that could have easily been missed if they weren’t spoken so close to his skin. “Thank you.”

//

“You should probably get that.”

Jack, your producer, nods towards your phone as it begins to vibrate on top of the wooden table again. You sigh from your spot on the couch, cursing silently whoever’s been blowing up your phone for the past ten minutes. Mondays in the studio are already hard enough to concentrate as it is - especially as you and Jack have been trying to get the guitar riff just right for the past hour - so to add your buzzing device to the mix feels like a cherry on top to your stress cake.

You shoot him an apologetic look as you reach for it. You wanted to wait until you were done to pay attention to whatever’s been going off so as to not lose your focus, but it seems like whoever’s been trying to reach out has been very adamant about your attention.

So you step outside, letting your eyes fall closed for a second as the outdoor breeze relaxes your senses a little. Jack’s balcony right outside his home studio is quite small and doesn’t stand very tall from the second floor, but you love how you can still have a view of a park close enough that the sunset in the back paints the full leaves of the trees gold. After a moment of peace, you sigh as you’re reminded of your duties once the phone in your hand vibrates once again.

Your brows all but meet as you take in the notifications on your screen. There are two missed calls from Sonia, and a couple of messages, not only from her but from your publicist as well. Opening up the chat, your tired eyes just give a quick scan over the words before falling on a link attached to them. Just before you click on it, you can feel your heart sink as you realize it’s a The Sun article.

“No, no, no, no, no.” You mutter to yourself as you wait for the page to load. When it does, you can feel every ounce you get cold as your dread shows itself to be true. What calls your attention first are the pictures, ones taken yesterday as you recognize your white and red striped dress. And you recognize the look of adoration in a click, perfectly timed when you took off your sunglasses. And worst of all, you recognize Harry, holding you close at the corner just before his building.

When you finally remind yourself to read the headline, you’re not sure how you don’t drop your phone all the way down at the words that stare back at you.

NEW ROMANCE? This year’s favorite breakthrough artist is spotted on a coffee date in London with a mysterious brunette!

//

AAAH It’s finally here!! I’m so sorry for taking so long with this one but I got very busy very suddenly at the end of the year but I promise next one will be here sooon!! As usual, if you enjoyed it please reblog and leave some feedback, I’m very excited to hear what’s everyone’s thoughts!! 

[ynscrazylife]

Black Widow Rewrite (1)

Summary: This is the first in my series of rewrites of the Black Widow movie. This particular one will focus on my idea of what the post credit scene should be.

Authors Note: I want to preface this by saying that I LOVED the movie! This “rewrite” adds some things that I would of have liked to see (ex: this one: post credit scene fix/rewrite) and makes her hero moment shine more. Also, this’ll be how I start writing character x character fics, not just character x reader!

Request to be on a taglist (or multiple) here! (Taglists are at the end of the fic)

MCU Masterlist #1 | MCU Masterlist #2 | Main Masterlist

PSA: Do NOT copy, steal, translate, plagiarize, republish, etc any of my works on Tumblr or any other platform. Also, do NOT claim any of my works as your own. All of these works are either requests I’ve gotten that people have wanted me to write or original ideas I’ve had for works. If you happen to take inspiration from anything I’ve written and want to write something inspired by that, please a) ask me first and b) IF I say yes, credit me as inspo in your post by tagging me and link whatever work of mine that inspired you. Thanks.

header c @/piratanjo

Yelena didn’t know how many times one was “supposed” to visit their dead sister’s grave, but, as her usual self, she didn’t give a shit. This was the second time this week her boots were clamping down on the fall leaves and the beep of her locking her car doors filled the otherwise steady blow of air. She needed her sister, now more than ever, to hug her, hold her, even talk to her - but since her sister sacrificed herself to save half the entire unvierse - her grave would do. 

Well, it wouldn’t. These visits never truly satisifed Yelena. She always left feeling a dull pang in her stomach - a pang in a hole that was empty and wasn't going to get filled in anytime soon. It was nice to imagine that she was talking to Natasha even just for a little bit, but the time always came when she sun would set, Fanny would bark, and she’d have to drive home alone - knowing her sister was never coming back. That Natasha wouldn’t be answering her comments.

The pathway was practically ingrained in the souls of Yelena’s feet. Her muscles responded to it, hugged it, as she always took the same steps and walked the same way. It didn’t take her long to find the headstone, with it’s flowers and teddy bears and cards of tears from the Avengers and Yelena’s family. 

The blonde let out a deep sigh as she walked up and knelt down, eyes reading over Natasha’s name and the “Daughter - Sister - Avenger” title as well as the description engraved: Dedicated to the hero who sacrificed herself to bring half the universe back. You are loved and missed by many, and will always be in our hearts.” 

Yelena had memorized those words. They were always floating around somewhere in her brain. This day had been especially painful. Stress seemed to be in the air all morning and afternoon, and Yelena couldn’t explain it, but it was tough. It was one of the times where Natasha’s death was especially difficult.

She let her muscles relax and slowly and steadily leaned forward, until her forehead was pressing against the cool and a little rough stone. Yelena wore tiny bruises and scrapes left behind proudly, to serve as a reminder. What she was reminding people of? That her sister lived. Her sister was here. 

The whistle came out louder than usual this time, but quickly dipped and cracked, the emotion seeping in. It echoed in Yelena’s mind, bouncing off the inner walls of her head, until eventually coming to a stop. She closed her eyes and willed her ears to soak up all the sounds, but she only heard the leaves rustling, Fanny’s paws scraping against the ground, and the breeze in the trees.

Every time a part of her expected a whistle back - from memory, she assumed - and every time she was disappointed. That didn’t stop her from yearning for it.

Which is why the sharp, confident tune entered Yelena’s air with a jarring pang, bouncing around in her eardrums briefly, instead of its usual calming flow. Her stance immediately morphed like an animal hunting for it’s pray. In just seconds, she was one one knee instead of two and had two hands planted, digging into the grass and mud, ready to run, while her eyes searched and analyzed the scene before her. No one else should be there, and the only people who knew her and Natasha’s whistle were Melina and Alexei, who were in Russia. 

The moment her eyes landed on the figure was the moment Yelena felt like her reality was crashing down on her. Her jaw dropped and the surprise nearly knocked her off her feet. But then, when that all faded, her gaze turned into a harsh glare and her limbs tightened as she rose to her feet. 

“How and why would you impersonate my sister?!” She snapped in a low but loud voice. 

The person who, with great courage and/or stupidity, that resembled Natasha Romanoff to a T sported her famous and charming smirk, unfazed as she began to close the distance. “Yelena,” she dared said. “It’s me.” 

Yelena shook her head. “That’s impossible. And-and it’s offensive. How dare you disguise yourself as her and come here and continue this act? What do you gain from this?” She said, doing a disgusted gesture to the person.

The person stood relaxed. “How did I know the whistle then?” She asked. The air was left void of words for a couple prominent beats, until the person continued, reciting: “Прости меня, сестренка. (Forgive me, little sister.) It was real to me too.” 

Yelena’s stance loosened up, but the battle inside her was still going on. “How?” 

Natasha smiled and continued walking towards her. “The Avengers resurrected me,” she answered, but then clarified: “It’s also a long story. But I’m here. I’m alive . . . I still have your vest with all the pockets-” she caught sight of Fanny. “-and I see you got the dog you wanted. No kids, yeah?”

Yelena’s walls broke down and her eyes filled with happy tears. “Наташа (Natasha),” She whispered, throwing her arms around her older sister and holding her close. Natasha leaned her head on the blonde’s shoulders, tears coming to her as well, and she let herself be held, be cared for, and be loved. 

Natasha Romanoff will return. 

[alicemitch09writes]

first love

pairing: Kuroo Tetsurou x reader

summary: You never forget your first love.

author’s notes: This is what prompted the many angst fics to come in my repertoire. I’ll just to slowly transfer some of my one-shots that are reader inserts here on tumblr.

twenty one pilot’s cover of ‘can’t help falling in love’ really helped me in the writing of this fic. It’s a favorite of mine I keep going back to when writing fics. Reader is a musician, who plays the ukulele and violin and at the time when I wrote this (back in 2017), I was learning to play the uke, mostly for fun.

also available on ao3.

disclaimer: i own NOTHING but the plot.

Wise men say, only fools rush in

But I can't help, falling in love with you

 They moved to Tokyo when she was 8.

And at a young age, she was pretty much a timid and shy girl, always hiding behind her parents whenever in the presence of new people, especially when she was being introduced. She wasn't very good with socializing, always wary and scared that she'd make a horrible impression.  And of people, in general. People were generally scary, especially those she was unfamiliar with. She found solace in music, due to her father's influence, who was a music instructor at a university. "When words fail, music speaks." He'd tell her as they played 'Heart and Soul' together on the piano, her mother taking a video of them from the side. And a little while later, by some miracle, she made friends with the local kids – Tetsurou and Kenma. The two were an odd pair, given Tetsurou's loud and mischievous demeanor being a total contrast to Kenma's quiet and well-behaved and aloofness. Still, they were the best friends she could ever have.

 Years passed, and the three were inseparable.

Over time, the two proved to be more trouble than they were worth – Tetsurou, with his never-ending schemes and provocation abilities, and Kenma, with his indifference to the world so long as he was playing his games.

Nothing's changed much of her, other than her ability to keep the dynamic duo grounded. Also, she had her flair for music. Still, she was terribly shy. Though she has a voice, she chose to stick to the background, wanting to be out of the limelight.

Tetsurou would scold her, saying that it was a waste because she had a good singing voice. In which, would make her blush. Kenma would say the same thing even without looking up from his game console. But Tetsurou's words resounded, her heart beating like a drum.

    Shall I stay, would it be a sin?

If I can't help, falling in love with you

   It was the clichest thing to happen – she fell in love with her childhood friend.

She fell for Tetsurou.

For all his cockiness, his mischievousness, his peculiar affinity with cats (ironic that they attended Nekoma), and his atrocious bed hair – she loved it all.

Of course, she'd never tell him.

She doesn't have the heart to.

Neither will she tell Kenma, being the perceptive boy he was.

Plus, she'd have to go against a throng of his admirers (who made up of about half of the female population, by the way). There was no way she had a chance. And besides, who was she to him but his ever dependable, timid and adorable best friend?

When he bought her a ukulele on her 16th birthday – he knew she had wanted to try to play it for the longest time, she knew that it was simply out of friendship.

For a while, she became the volleyball team's manager. And for a while, she was able to play it cool with her feelings. This was okay, she thought, its better like this.

"This is my best friend, (Last Name) (Name)." he says, wrapping his arms around her neck as he hugged her from behind, introducing her to two players from Fukurodani.

The shorter of the two – Akaashi Keiji, smiles. "Nice to meet you, (Last name)-san."

"Oh! She's so cute!" says the loud boy – Bokuto Koutarou. "Are you sure she's not your girlfriend?"

Tetsurou laughed, chin digging into her head. "I've known her forever, that'll be weird."

"Kuroo, you're hugging her too tight." Kenma says with a frown.

Best friend.

That's all she'll ever be to him.

    Like a river flows, surely to the sea

Darling, so it goes, this love was meant to be

   It was rare to find Tetsurou at his lowest since he was usually contented with whatever happened. But they lost, unable to secure a spot at nationals.

So when she found him all by himself at the gym, she knew he needed to be cheered up.

Taking her ukulele from her bag, she started playing. Tetsurou looked up just as she started singing. "You with the sad eyes don't be discouraged, oh I realize" she kneeled in front of him, watching him with careful eyes. "It's hard to take courage, in a world full of people; you can lose sight of it all, the darkness inside you, can make you feel so small."

She continued singing to him, feeling her heart beat faster with every line. It was so hard seeing this down, it was so unlike him. He rested his head on his folded arms, eyes closed as she sang. He always loved hearing her sing.

"And I see your true colors shining through," she wished her words reached him. "I see your true colors, and that's why I love you."

For a moment, she choked up. Not intending to say those words out loud, but they were part of the song, and the way she sang it with so much emotion that the look Tetsurou was giving her made her nervous. His golden eyes stared deep into her (eye color) – filled with so much emotion, but she focused on confusion, probably at why she had stopped.

Regaining her composure, she continued. "So don't be afraid to let them show, your true colors are beautiful like a rainbow."

Tetsurou cracked a smile, reaching out to ruffle her hair playfully. "When did you get so cheesy?"

"And when did you become this uncool?" she teased back, slapping his hand away. "Are you feeling better now?"

Sighing, he leaned his back against the wall, staring at the ceiling. "A little, but thanks for coming after me."

"It's not the end of the world," she tells him kindly. "and after all, there's next year. Right, captain?"

The look on his face was priceless – clearly not expecting that. But their senpai had already decided, Kai and Morisuke were on it too, as was Coach Nekomata – before it broke into a grin.

His grin was the biggest she's ever seen.

     Take my hand; take my whole life, too

'Cause I can't help, falling in love with you

  Tetsurou got mad at her, saying painful words to her face.

Furiously, he turned to face her. She took a step back in surprise, clutching her ukulele to her chest. Then her instrument slipped from her hand, landing on the ground with a loud crack. The words coming out from his mouth were hard to bear, and she could just stand there taking it all in.

He didn't mean it really, but the stress and frustrations were just getting to him. She knew that.

"You know nothing. I never want to see your face again." He seethed.

When all was said and done, he up and left.

It felt as though the life was sucked out of her. She couldn't feel anything, she felt too numb to move. It only came as a surprise that she was still there when she found herself sitting on the ground, rocks digging into her skin.

Picking up her ukulele from the ground, she was surprised to find that it was still in one piece. Except for the scratches on the surface, and crack on the rim of the saddle boards. Funny, they seemed like an allegory.

Despite it all, the pain in her heart and Tetsurou's harsh treatment towards her, she found herself smiling. Hot tears streamed down her face, teeth digging unto her lower lip as if to keep her sobs in.

But the pain of it all was too much, she was only human.

Hugging her instrument to her chest, she allowed herself to cry, sobbing loudly, body shaking violently as her heart broke into smithereens.

    She heard that they had made it to the semi-finals, being one of the top four schools, which shouldn't be a surprise. Actually, it was secondhand information from Kenma. Right after what happened with Tetsurou, she decided to cut ties with anything associated with him, which was basically everything – the volleyball club, Kenma.

It was something she had to – no, something she wanted to do.

No matter how much it killed her.

           "Hey, let's make a little bet. If I win, you go out on a date with me."

"And if I win?"

"You won't ever see me again."

          Gentle strums silenced out the lull machines, the dripping of liquids. Faint scents of flowers and fruits hid the overly sanitized room, with walls too white and dull.

"But I can't help," her voice was quiet, low, eyes transfixed to her fingers on each string on her ukulele. "falling in love," a lone tear slips down her face, though a smile graced her lips. "with you."

In front of her, the television displayed the live coverage of the nationals - Nekoma won against Fukorodani, and then lost to Karasuno.

She smiled, hugging her ukulele as tears slipped freely.

The memory of the bet they made when they were younger came to mind, making her smile. That was such a long time ago, Tetsurou probably forgot all about that just as he forgot all about her.

"Don't worry, you won."

Now you won't ever see me again.

          He was surprised when they came back to school, she wasn't there. She was the first person he looked for since she was absent during the whole finals match. But she wasn't anywhere to be found – not in the library, the music room, the club room.

He had a promise to keep, and an apology to make up.

So it came as a surprise to him when his classmates' expressions turned grim at the mention of her name. Some had begun to cry, some looked away, nothing was making sense.

But one word was clear to him – cancer.

He turned to his best friend, who met his gaze. For the first time in his life, he saw anger in those usually stoic eyes. He knew then that he knew, he always knew. There was also pain, pain for his best friend's condition. And for (Name)'s sake, he decided to keep his mouth shut.

Without a word, he ran, as fast as he can, ignoring the calls from his classmates, teachers, teammates. He had to get to her. He had to apologize; he didn't mean what he said. He wanted to see her, hold her, tell her he was stupid and an idiot-

           But he was already too late.

[emeraldiis]

Enough Trust for Us Both

I’ve written a new fic, this time it’s Bucky x Reader! Read it on AO3 here.

Word Count: 3.8k

Rating: Explicit (18+)

Contains: fluff and smut, phone sex

You’re going crazy. You are going absolutely insane, and it’s all Bucky’s fault. Stupid, sexy, oblivious Bucky. Sure, you two have the perfect relationship in all other regards. He’s open with you, trusting you to hold him through the night to calm any nightmares, and he keeps you safe. Four months of him hovering behind you like an overprotective parent may have been annoying to some, but you love it. It makes you feel cared for. And you know he loves you, because he says it about forty times a day. 

There’s just one tiny, itsy bitsy problem. Bucky won’t touch you. Well, that’s not true. He cuddles you, holds your hand, gives you chaste kisses whenever you do something to make him smile. But he won’t touch you. The kisses never go beyond pecks on the lips, and his hands never wander below your waist. And god dammit, you don't understand why. You’re horny, for fuck’s sake.

You know that you’ve been touchy with him lately, but you can’t help it. The sexual frustration increases tenfold when he grabs your hands with his strong ones, or wraps his fingers around your hips to pull you in for a kiss. You swear your panties are constantly damp around him, and more than a few times you’d had to excuse yourself to go change.

But you haven’t made any moves, scared of being too bold. He’s come so far with you, opened up so much, and you’re afraid that being too forward will scare him off. Still, a girl has needs, and you’re not above dropping a few...hints.

Bucky walks into your apartment with heavy footsteps, nearly slamming the door behind him. You jump, whipping around on the couch to face him, and watch as he winces. “I’m sorry, doll. Sometimes I forget how strong this stupid thing is.” He flexes his metal hand, frowning at the silver digits.

You tsk and shake your head, trying hard to ignore the arousal blooming in your stomach. Every part of him is attractive, you just can’t help but stare. From his shaggy hair, to those absolutely sinful thighs that you want to ride into the sunset. “It’s okay, babe,” you sigh wistfully, then look at him with pleading eyes. “I missed you today, can we go cuddle?” If you can’t get any action, then maybe just some good old fashioned affection would calm your nerves. Doubt it.

With a chuckle, Bucky strides over to the back of the couch with those long legs and leans over to kiss your cheek. “Of course, doll. Just let me go shower first, and I’ll meet you in the bedroom.”

Nearing falling over yourself in your enthusiasm, you give Bucky a winning smile and race to the bedroom, eager to get under the covers and get warm. As you slide into bed, you hear the shower turn on across the hall, and let your mind wander. Bucky’s muscled body fills your head. Tight abs flexing under streams of water, those metal fingers brushing across his skin, soap running down his chest all the way down to his cock. You’ve seen it before, but only once. Bucky had come home run ragged from an intense mission, and had been too tired to argue when you insisted on bathing him yourself. Even with just one glance while he was soft, you could tell Bucky was huge. He was thick, and imagining that inside of you nearly makes you moan out loud.

You’re so caught up in your fantasies that you fail to hear the water stop running, and end up startling again when Bucky enters the room. “Doll, you’re jumpy today,” Bucky says, blue eyes filled with concern. “Is everything okay?”

“I’m great!” You answer a little too quickly, trying to ignore the uncomfortable wetness seeping into your panties. You’re not wearing any pants--you usually don’t, when Bucky’s gone--and you know that Bucky would be able to feel how turned on you are if his hands go anywhere near there. ‘Which they won’t,’ you think to yourself in disappointment.

Bucky eyes you skeptically, thick eyebrows furrowed, while you try not to drool over his still-dripping form. He’s shirtless, wearing only a pair of red and black checkered pajama pants that are just one size too small. If you squint, you can just barely see the outline of his cock pressing against the fabric, and your eyes nearly roll and you realize that he’s probably not wearing underwear. Before you can work yourself up again, Bucky shakes his head at you, accepting your white lie, and gestures for you to slide over. You eagerly oblige, ready for some quality time with your boyfriend.

Despite your innocent act, you have a devious plan in the works. It had come to you the second he walked out of the shower looking irresistible. You’d decided that two could play at that game, and maybe he just needs you to seduce him. It’s bolder than anything you’d typically try, but maybe Bucky just hasn’t realized how badly you want him yet. Well, you were going to make it obvious for him.

When Bucky eases under the covers next to you, you purr happily and guide him onto his back, head resting comfortably in the pillows. You lie on your stomach and swing one leg over his hips, then throw your arm around his shoulder, effectively splaying yourself out on top of him. Bucky huffs out an amused laugh and wraps his human arm around your back. “Miss me that much, huh?” He says, voice soft and low. The weight of his arm feels nice draped across you like that, but you crave more.

You can’t help the shiver that forces its way down your spine at his deep voice speaking so closely to your ear. “Mhm,” you mumble. “Need to feel you.”

Cold, vibranium fingers card through your hair, and you don’t even try to suppress the moan that bubbles up. If you were going to properly seduce Bucky, you couldn’t hold anything back. “Well, I’m here, doll, feel me all you want.” His human hand grips your shoulder possessively, and the message is clear. ‘You’re mine, and I’ll keep you safe.’

At that, your hips rock involuntarily, and you freeze when you realize that the wet spot on your panties has managed to make contact with the bare skin of Bucky’s stomach. That was a little further than you had intended to take this scheme, and you shift away, praying that Bucky hadn’t noticed.

To your dismay, Bucky rockets up from the bed like a cannon, immediately scrambling to the other side of the room like you had burned him. You start to turn away in embarrassment, then notice the wild look in his wide eyes. Bucky’s terrified. But why?

Seeing the bewildered look on your face, Bucky pauses in his frantic movements, then slowly slides down the wall and comes to a rest seated on the floor. His breathing pattern stutters until it settles into the slow and deliberate one his therapist taught him to stifle panic attacks. Regret sinks into your chest like a thick cloud. Christ, you had really messed up this time. “Baby,” you say softly, voice dripping with worry.

Your boyfriend looks up from the carpet, and tries to give you a reassuring smile. “I-I’m, I’m sorry,” he manages. His normally strong voice cracks, and your heart splits. “It’s not you, I just…” He fumbles for the words, and you keep quiet, pulse high while you await his explanation. “Doll, it’s hard enough for me to control myself when you’re all up on me like that, but I’m just a man, and when you-” Bucky shakes his head frantically, eyes dropping back to the floor. “You just can’t be tempting me like, okay, babe?” His head falls into his hands.

Wait, what? Somehow, you’re even more confused. “Bucky, what are you talking about? You don’t have to ‘control yourself,’ I’m your girlfriend. Hell, I’d be upset if you weren’t sexually attracted to me!” Your voice is rising in volume, but you can’t help it. All these months spent taking cold showers, and he wanted to fuck you the whole time? “Jesus, Buck. I was all over you today because I wanted you to lose control. This entire time we’ve been together I just thought, I dunno, that I wasn’t attractive enough for you?” You can’t mask the hurt in your voice.

At that, Bucky’s eyes widen and he raises his head to look back up at you. “Baby doll, no, you’re the sexiest damn thing I’ve ever laid eyes on. I just...I don’t want to hurt you. If I lose control like that and let myself go, who knows what could happen? I could relapse, I could seriously hurt you. You saw when I came inside today! I almost broke your door without meaning to, I can’t put you at risk just for my own pleasure.”

Anger swells up inside of you again, and you rise from the bed to stalk towards Bucky. When you reach his place on the floor, you sink to your knees and stare daggers at him. “Your own pleasure? What about mine? Bucky, this isn’t just about you. I have needs, too.” Bucky looks away in shame, and the guilty expression in his eyes manages to cool your temper. You gently take his face in your hands and pull him to look at you. Now that you’ve come back to yourself, you feel guilty for being selfish. You chew on your lips anxiously. “Hey, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have gotten mad like that, I know this isn’t easy for you. But Bucky, if you want me, then I’m yours. I know you won’t hurt me, I trust you.”

Bucky pulls away from you, lips screwed up in a pained frown. “No, I’m sorry. It’s just too dangerous.”

You fall back onto your butt, sighing, and try to think. “Okay, well what if we worked up to it?”

That earns you an intrigued look. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” you start, mind racing as a plan hatches. “What if we started off with something low risk, like phone sex. You could stay at the Avengers tower, I could stay here. How can you hurt me if we’re on different sides of the city?”

“Phone sex?”

Oh, right. Different era. “It’s where we call each other on the phone and get off together. If you really don’t want to try, you can say no, but you deserve pleasure. We’ve both been stressed lately, this can be a good thing.” You try to keep your tone casual, giving Bucky the chance to relax from the brief argument. You can see the wheels turning in his mind, and though he’d never admit it, his cheeks flush just the slightest bit red.

“Okay,” he whispers, brushing back a piece of stray hair from his face and taking a steadying breath.

Your eyes follow the movement of his hand as what he said sinks in. “Really, you’re okay with it?”

“Yeah,” Bucky replies, making an attempt to smile at you. “Just...can we do this slow? It’s been a long time.” He still looks nervous, and you almost want to back off. To tell him to forget it, that you were just being selfish. But it’s not just you that he’s denying pleasure to. Bucky’s suffering, too, and you know that intimacy would be a huge step forward, so you push on.

You grin brightly at him, then stand, offering your hand to help him up, too. After hesitating for a brief moment, Bucky takes your hand and lets you pull him to his feet. He stands, towering over you, and you realize that you’re so tiny compared to him. His worries absolutely held merit; he could crush you so easily, especially with those rippling muscles that you’re always staring at. But you’re not scared of him, you never have been. Bucky has never been anything but gentle towards you, and you know that even The Winter Soldier would not lay a hand on you. Bucky would never allow that to happen, you trust him.

You just wish he could trust himself that much, too.

It’s been weeks since you and Bucky’s conversation, and you’re beginning to think he’s forgotten about it. That, or he’s just pretending that he doesn’t remember in order to avoid a stressful situation. The latter was probably more likely, and you decide not to push it. Maybe you’d been asking for too much. So you put a lid on your desires, and acted like everything was fine for Bucky’s sake, even as disappointment dampened your moods. And when he left for yet another mission, you began to accept that maybe he just wasn’t ready. You can live with that.

Your phone rings, and you hoist yourself off the couch, pausing the movie you’d been watching to trudge over to your phone. When Bucky was away on missions, calls were never anything good. He’d usually send texts to reassure you that things were going well, but he always saved bad news for phone calls. It was a nice gesture, but it just made you associate them with misery.

Steeling yourself, you click ‘answer,’ and force out a cheerful greeting despite the anxiety twisting your stomach.

“Hey, doll.” Bucky’s voice is gruff, and he sounds exhausted. Your hands twitch, wanting to reach for him.

“Hi,” you reply. “Everything going okay?”

A groan floats through the speaker, and you sigh, knowing that your instincts were correct. “I wish, it looks like I’ll have to stay another night in this stupid safe house. We think our cover might’ve been blown and Stark wants to lay low before trying to extract me.” You can hear the apology in Bucky’s tone; he doesn’t need to say it.

You want to scream and throw your phone. Another night away from your lover, spent lying awake worrying that this time he wouldn’t make it home safe. Another night of counting the seconds until he’s back in your arms, and you can kiss away the stress of his mission. You knew what you were signing up for, dating an Avenger, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t hard sometimes. Still, you need to keep it together. For Bucky. “It’s okay, just stay safe, alright? I need you to come back to me in one piece.”

Bucky mumbles his assent, and you hear shuffling on the other end, presumably him getting more comfortable. You do the same, and make your way back to the couch so you can sit down and talk to him. “At least it’s just me here,” Bucky says. “This would be a hell of a lot more irritating if I had to put up with Sam’s chatter for another day.” 

With a snort, you flop onto the couch and lean back. “Don’t be too hard on him, he means well.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Bucky grumbles. He pauses, and you hear a shaky inhale before he speaks again. “What’re you wearing?”

Your eyebrows shoot up. Well, this was unexpected. “One of your shirts, why?”

“No pants?”

“You know me, pants are kind of against my moral code.”

Bucky chuckles on the other line while you wonder where this is going. “Yeah, I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.” Another pause. “Which panties do you have on?”

Oh. Oh. Your heart speeds up in excitement as you start to realize what’s going on. “Buck, are you wanting to…?” You don’t finish your sentence, letting your silence speak for itself.

“Um, I think so. If you don’t mind?” Bucky says, voice rising a bit in pitch as it tends to do when he gets nervous. 

You’re quick to reassure him, not wanting to screw this up when you’ve been dreaming about it for months. “Yes, yeah!” You blurt out. “I just wanted to make sure we were both on the same page here.” You tug at your bottom lip with your teeth while you think about how you want this to go. “Hold on, lemme move to the bedroom.”

“Okay.” Bucky’s voice has gotten raspier, and it sends a gush of arousal into your panties. You rush to the bedroom, legs more than a little shaky from excitement.  You hop onto the bed and settle back into the pillows, putting your phone on speaker and setting it beside you on the sheets. “You still haven’t told me which panties you’ve got on,” Bucky prompts, sounding a little unsure.

“The black ones,” you answer. “They’re the ones that have the lacing around my ass.”

Bucky growls his appreciation at your response. “Those are my favorite.” You beam. Now that he’s finally expressing his attraction to you, you feel like the sexiest woman in the world.

“Your turn to tell me what you’re wearing.” Your fingers tug at the hem of your underwear, itching to dive inside and start touching yourself. But you wait patiently, wanting to take things slow like Bucky had asked.

“Just my briefs. The dark blue ones that you said look nice,” Bucky says. He goes quiet, and you remember that phone sex was a foreign concept to him just a few weeks ago. You can picture his uncertain expression. His eyes always narrowed in a cute little squint, and his lips would purse in a way that made you want to kiss him breathless.

Taking the lead, you shimmy your panties down your legs until they’re completely off. “I’m taking my underwear off now. Do you want to touch yourself?”

Bucky inhales sharply. “Yeah.”

“Do it. I will, too.” You bring your fingers down to your dripping pussy, absently wondering if you should’ve laid down a towel before starting. It’s too late now, though. You slide one finger across your folds, humming softly at the pleasure.

There’s rustling on the other end, and you close your eyes to imagine Bucky pulling down his briefs, thick cock springing free. You think about running your tongue up the leaking head, and your core cramps involuntarily.

“Doll…” Bucky breathes. You hear a slick sound--did he always bring lube with him on missions?-- and then a steady rhythm of slow strokes. 

“Does it feel good?” You ask, and bring your thumb up to rub at your clit. A small whimper escapes your throat. There’s no reason to try to stay quiet; this is for Bucky, and you want him to hear that you’re enjoying yourself.

“Y-yeah,” he grits out. “Tell me what you’re doing.”

“I’m touching my clit, wishing it was your fingers on me. I wanna touch you so bad.” There’s a whine to your voice, and your fingers speed up.

“I wish I was there,” Bucky says. “Fuck, I bet you look so good right now. I don’t even know how many times I’ve gotten off to the thought of licking that pretty pussy.”

A gasp tears its way from your throat. You never knew Bucky had such a mouth on him, and you briefly think about how many girls he’d talked out of their skirts before the war. You turn your head to the side, burying your nose in Bucky’s shirt and inhale deeply. His scent makes you dizzy with need, and you abandon your clit to dip two fingers into yourself. There’s no need for preparation—you’re soaked—and you easily slide the digits past your opening to reach the most sensitive spots. “I’ve got two fingers inside me now,” you moan. “Wishing they were yours.”

The strokes on the other end speed up, and Bucky curses. “Shit, doll. You’re driving me crazy, here.”

Bucky’s moans are the hottest thing you’ve heard in your entire life. Nights spent fantasizing about how he’d sound in bed didn’t even come close to the real thing. His ragged pants on the other end of the line have you edging closer and closer to your orgasm, and you begin to ramble mindlessly. “Bucky, baby, I need to feel you. I want you here with me, I wanna watch you cum.”

“You know we can’t--”

“I don’t care,” you whine. “I’ll use Stark’s handcuffs to keep you restrained, you can’t hurt me if you’re all tied up. Please, baby, I just need you.” You know that you’re rambling, but you don’t care, it feels too good. Your fingers move faster and faster, chasing your high.

A startled moan echoes through your speaker. “Oh, fuck, stop talking. Please, I can’t--” Bucky’s voice is tight, strangled, but it only encourages you to push him further. 

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Being tied up while I ride you?”

That’s the last straw for Bucky. The rhythm of his strokes stutters, then comes to an abrupt halt as he chokes out a high pitched whine of your name. Hearing his orgasm pushes you into your own, and you claw at the sheets with your free hand. Bucky’s name tumbling from your lips while your hips arch up into your hand, everything clenching and then releasing into bliss.

You lie in silence for a few minutes, your breathing mixing in with Bucky’s as you both come down. Finally, you break the silence, feeling a bit embarrassed now that pleasure’s no longer clouding your judgement. “I-I’m sorry. I got a little carried away.”

“What?” Bucky replies. “No, that was, that was really good. Were you serious about wanting to try restraining me?”

You swallow tightly. To be honest, it was kind of a spur of the moment fantasy, born from reckless pleasure. “Uh, only if you want. I definitely should’ve cleared it with you before bringing it up.”

Bucky is quick to reassure you. “No, doll. At the moment, I only really saw it as a hot fantasy, but now that I’m thinking about it...it could actually work.”

You sit up in bed, not able to believe your ears. God, you aren’t even sure if you’d be able to handle that kind of control over Bucky. You might just melt the second you lay eyes on him. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Bucky says. “We’d have to use something that could hold me, but I’d feel better about not hurting you if I was handcuffed.”

A dizzying rush of excitement washes over you. “Fuck, okay. Let’s talk about it more when you get back, yeah? You need to focus on getting home safe.”

“You’re right. Thank you for being patient with me, I know you could easily find some guy you didn’t have to jump through all these hoops for.” Bucky’s laugh is self deprecating, and you shush him.

“Shut up, you’re perfect. I’d jump through as many hoops as it takes to call you mine for the rest of my life.” And you really would. You’re head over heels for this man, and it isn’t just the post-nut bliss talking. “Just come back home to me and I’ll show you just how much I’m willing to do you.” You pause. “For you. Do for you.”

This time, the chuckle that Bucky lets out is genuine, and your heart swells. “Okay, doll. I’ll be home in a day or two and you can do me all you’d like.”

[swiggitswooggit]

Eat my love

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This is my first time ever putting out a fic I’ve written lol

Cw: none, just fluff and gei shit

Although Amber had to abide by a routine for most of the things in her life -- school and the bakery being some of those -- she was far from a person controlled by it. She much preferred her days with a little bit of chaos sprinkled throughout, as she thought it best to be kept on her toes. But Amber is anything if not diligent so she stuck to her routine from the moment she woke up to the time she went to sleep, which usually ended up being rather late -- something her friends couldn’t manage to wrap their heads around given how energetic she was in the morning.

It was this diligence that made her such a valuable employee at the bakery she worked at, and why she chose to take the morning shifts, since she could get out all of that energy that had built up overnight.

The way the light filtered through the large, glass windows; the warm, inviting atmosphere that enveloped you the minute you stepped through those doors; the large display cases showing off the tantalizing sweets carried within; there wasn’t a thing Amber didn’t love about the bakery, including the arduous work that it was to open everyday. Everyday, she unlocked the door and propped it open using a flower pot, then she would head to the back to prep the specialty pastries. 

Although the bakery was known for its more traditional doughy delights -- various breads, muffins, and cookies being among the customer favorites -- Amber’s heart and stomach would forever lie with the more unconventional sweet and savory options: pineapple roast pork buns, red bean buns and taiyaki, dango. The flavors just worked, and although it made her a little sad that these items weren’t as popular among customers, that just meant that at the end of the day there was more for her.

‘Don’t worry, you beautiful buns, I love you even if no one else can realize how bangin you are’ humming to herself softly, Amber arranged the trays of pastries, opened the register, and waited for the morning crowd to flow in.

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“Thank you, have a nice day!” smiling brightly, Amber thanked the customer as they walked out the door, eyes drifting to the clock above the entrance.

The chime of the bells rang in Amber’s ears and her eyes shot up to see a sharply dressed woman walk into the bakery, eyes trained on the phone in her hand. She was rather tall and there was something about the way she carried herself that made her seem icy and unapproachable. Surprisingly, she didn’t seem stiff or rigid like Amber had expected, but rather she walked with a lightness that was characteristic of dancers. Was she a dancer? No, that couldn’t be -- she was dressed as a businesswoman, after all. Maybe she took dance classes when she was younger and that was why she was so light on her feet. What type of dance did she study? Would she answer if Amber asked-

“... do you recommend?”

“H-huh? I’m sorry, what were you saying?” God, this was embarrassing. Cheeks heating up, stumbling over her words, all Amber could feel was pure mortification at having zoned out in front of a customer.

A delicate eyebrow raised before she responded, “What do you recommend?”

“Oh, well, personally I really love these guys,” she gestured to the far end of the display case. “They’re pink peppercorn madeleines! People are put off by them ‘cuz of the peppercorns, but the taste isn’t super overwhelming and it’s a little fruitier!”

“Can I try one?”

“Yes, of course.” Picking up a madeleine with a pair of tongs, Amber placed it on a napkin and passed it over the counter to the office lady. Usually, she didn’t stress too much about whether or not customers liked the sweets; ideally, everyone would try the pastries and fall so in love they’d become dedicated customers from that point forward, but Amber understood how everyone had differing tastes. Despite this, Amber couldn’t help her nerves as she watched the office lady raise the madeleine to her lips.

Please, please, please like it 

Letting out a low hum of satisfaction, a small smile spread across the office lady’s face, “I’ll take five of these.”

“Okay, five madeleines it is then, will that be all?”

“Yes, that will be all.” Already digging through her purse, the office lady pulled out an exorbitant amount of cash and exchanged it for the paper bag filled with madeleines, turning on her heel towards the door.

Amber scrambled with the wad of cash calling out after her, “W-wait! This is way too much, don’t you want your change?” At that she stopped and turned back to look at the girl behind the counter, frazzled from the bizarreness of the exchange.

“What, you let me try out the product and expect me not to pay for it? What type of person do you take me for? I’ll remember this.” Despite the threatening nature of her words, they carried no malice, only a light teasing tone that had Amber’s head feeling fuzzy.

“Oh, well, thank you! Have a nice day!” She called out after the office lady, but she had already crossed the threshold from the bakery into the street and was walking further and further away.

Please come back 

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The madeleines must’ve beaten out all the other bakeries and coffee shops in the area, because she came back everyday after that, always being early enough to beat the morning crowd, always keeping conversation short and to the point. Amber didn’t mind too much, not everyone is a morning person, she gets it. Still, it would be nice if she could get to know the only other regular who appreciated the same pastries she loved so much.

“Thank you, have a nice day!” Unlike with other customers, Amber didn’t bother to watch the office lady leave, she already knew she wouldn’t get a response and she was fine with giving the office lady her space. Already focused on her next task, she failed to notice how the sound of steps had stopped for a moment.

“You too.” Amber’s head shot up just as office lady walked out the door with her matcha croissant, mouth agape. Seconds passed before her words finally sank in, and when they did Amber felt pure joy erupt through her; pumping her fists, tapping her feet, and hopping around she let out an ecstatic “yes” at having finally made progress.

“Um, excuse me? Am I interrupting something?” Oh God, the embarrassment. This was almost as bad as when she’d completely zoned out in front of the office lady, during their first meeting. Of course, she hadn’t seen Amber act like a complete fool, but she couldn’t decide which was worse: completely ignoring what a customer is saying or acting like you’re on crack in front of them. Wait, customer, the customer!

“Oh, no, no, no, not all! Sorry about that, anyways, what can I get for you?”

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  Things developed more and more from there; it seemed like office lady was finally comfortable enough to start making actual conversation, although Amber still didn’t know her name yet. That was fine though, and she was happy with just getting to know the enigmatic woman. Among some of the first things she learned were that she came from a wealthy family, but she was estranged from them now; she had taken dance classes as a child -- flamenco and tango --  and still danced in her free time; she something something. The more her icy exterior melted away, the more Amber was drawn to her, and the thing she looked forward to the most when opening the bakery in the morning.

The bell above the door chimed, signalling the entrance of a customer, “Good morning, what can I get for you- oh, hi! What will it be today? Oh, there are these pineapple roast pork buns that we have: so good!” 

“I’ll take two of those, then.” She was straight to the point as usual, but there was a warmth in her tone that hadn’t been there during the first times she visited the bakery.

Well, this was a surprise. She usually asked to try anything before buying, “Are you sure you don’t want a sample before buying?”

“No, your recommendations haven’t ever been bad so I trust you.” There it was again; that warm tone that had Amber’s stomach doing backflips.

“O-oh, really?! Well, that’s a surprise,” stumbling over her words, Amber fought to keep down the blush rising on her cheeks. Her efforts were in vain, if the gleam in office lady’s eye as she looked her over was anything to go by.

“Are you implying that I’m a bad judge of character?”

“No, no, not at all,” scrambling with the tongs, and placing the two buns inside a paper bag, Amber averted her eyes. “Well, here are your buns, Miss. Enjoy them, and have a nice day!”

She took the bag, but she didn’t move from her spot on the other side of the counter, she simply looked at Amber, thinking. Finally, she said “Eula, my name is Eula. Well then, have a nice day.”

‘Eula’ Amber thought, as she watched the newly named woman walk out of the bakery.

“Eula.” She said it out loud this time, and found that she liked how it sounded. She’d have to say her name more often, and introduce herself properly the next time Eula came in for her morning sweets.

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Unfortunately, it would be quite some time before Amber next saw Eula. The next day came and went, and there was no sign that she was coming. This continued on for the rest of the week, and with each day that passed the crushing anxiety that she had done or said something wrong grew and grew. The weekend came, and while usually Amber would be ecstatic at having the opportunity to take a break from school, her mind couldn’t help but drift over to thoughts of Eula and what she could be doing.

‘I hope she hasn’t found another bakery.’ At that thought she sank deeper into the couch she was curled up in, and furrowed her brows as her mouth formed a pout. ‘I bet their buns aren’t as good as ours, and they probably don’t even have pink peppercorn madeleines! You know what, they probably don’t even know what matcha is!’

“Amber!”

“H-huh, what’d I miss?” Knocked out of her thoughts by her friend’s call of her name, she looked up to find her friends all staring at her; some with expressions of varying degrees of concern, others with pure amusement in their eyes. She quickly apologized and paid attention to the conversation at hand, but her thoughts always drifted back to Eula

‘I really hope she hasn’t found another bakery.’

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When the chime of the bell rang out, Amber quickly fixed her expression and greeted the customer. “Good morning, what can I get for you today…”  her words died off when she saw who exactly had walked into the bakery.

Standing there, looking as stunning as she had when they had first met, was Eula.

“Oh, hey, what can I get for you?” As Amber spoke, the anxiety and longing she had been feeling all of last week and over the weekend came back tenfold, and she couldn’t help but ask, “Did I do something wrong? Or did I make you uncomfortable or angry?”

It was clear from her expression that Eula was taken aback by the question, and for the first time, she looked unsure of herself, nervous even. She took a breath and then, “Yes, actually, I’m quite upset with you.” With those words, Amber’s face collapsed, and if Eula noticed she didn’t address it, and instead continued talking. “First of all, there was you ignoring me when we first met,” she raised her hand, ticking off Amber’s offenses as she spoke, “then, you thought I was some type of freeloader, and didn’t expect me to pay for that sample you gave me. And finally,” as she listed the final offense a small grin spread across her face, “you implied that I was a bad judge of character when I said I trusted you.”

“Now then Miss, how do you expect to pay me back for all your wrongs against me?”

If this had been early on in their pseudo-relationship, Amber would have been prepared for the worst. She would’ve gotten on her knees and begged for mercy, but now given how she had gotten to know Eula, all she could hear was the teasing lilt in her voice that made her head feel all fuzzy. Maybe it was the way her head was all clouded, or maybe it was her desperation to have something more with Ella, so she took a chance and said, “I have an idea, actually, so hear me out. There’s this restaurant nearby, they have this amazing honey roast. If you’re free this weekend, then maybe, we could go together? I’ll be paying, of course!”

“It’s a date, then, miss…”

“Oh, Amber! It’s Amber.” Her face had to have been on fire by now, and she couldn’t contain the bright smile that split her face. She calmed down a little, when Eula held out her phone, asking for her number, heart beating out of her chest all the while. When Eula’s phone was back in her hand, she gave Amber a smile that could have almost been shy if it wasn’t for the light in her eyes. They then said their goodbyes, and Eula left for work.

‘Wow’ Amber thought, collapsed against the counter now. Her eyes drifted over to the far end of the display case, where the pink peppercorn madeleines were, and she softly smiled.

[jiangwanyinscatmom]

[1/?] Sorry for venting. I just saw some bad takes that gave me a lot of feelings. Personally, JC stresses me out every time he comes on screen, but I don't mind it when JC fans say fan-typical things like how they like JC because he wears purple, or is grumpy, or they think he's hot, or that they ship x*ch*ng because the cql actors have nice jawlines. They're harmless, fun takes, and while I don't agree with some of them, I see where they're coming from

Hello there anon, vent away as that is what my blog is open for as I love/hate on Jiang Cheng as he is in the plot, as well as all of my beef with what has been done to him for the EN side of the fanbase! I am more than fine listening and engaging with the unsavory "unpopular" discussions of his canon behavior and this goes for anyone of course that needs an open play area. I'll try to engage with what you have sent point by point as succinctly as I can.

[2/?] (some of these are obviously crack, and I am a fan of a few problematic faves). But then there are stans that just have to put other characters down to make JC look good. Like, I think some fans take their freedom of interpretation for granted because most of these takes aren't even labeled 'headcanon,' 'ooc,' or 'crack' anymore. Stans feel that their interpretations are valid, and while they are, valid =/= canon, and they're treating these takes as canon, which becomes popular fanon.

I enjoy Jiang Cheng for what he is, however as I had said it took me another reread to get to my stance of him being the negative mirror to Lan Wangji's positive and my comfort with that for the story once I realized what purpose he served. He is only insofar tragic in regards to his circumstances, but it does not absolve him for what he is at his core (no pun, but I can make a very nice metaphor that even with a piece of Wei Wuxian in him he is still forever unable and unwilling to stand by him equally all while stagnating where as Lan Wangji is able to flourish, grow and mature with nothing of import left from Wei Wuxian in a technical sense). As for ships, I am a little dirty Xicheng whore for fun and can say there is a sense of entertainment for me making it work with two people where one is wildly ignorant and the other wildly rabid. But that is outside of what is established as canon in the work and I always try to keep the two strictly separate due to the skew fanon perpetuates.

3/?] And now, it's not clear what part of the fanon references canon JC or the canon events of mdzs. JC is an asshole; I don't like him as a person, but I do think that he's a complex character motivated by many issues (sup, YeeZY), which makes him fascinating to explore. Unfortunately, erasing his culpability also removes his agency. JC should be allowed to be an asshole character who makes his own decisions even if they're the wrong ones. He has made his own tragedy by constantly casting Wei Wuxian as the villain of his life.

Now thanks to you I will be using YeeZY to forever and now to acknowledge Madam Yu (this is your fault for the new tag). From a standing from storytelling I agree that he is complex in the Jianghu for MDZS. Where in the usual political intrigue of Wuxia, he would be the mustache twirling villain that is outright unforgivable in narration, it is by favor of Wei Wuxian's narration that has an early steeping of empathy for him. And he is not meant to be seen as ultimately sympathetic, the work builds up his hate against Wei Wuxian who tries to rationalize it all several times until he is finally unable to. Jiang Cheng is the antithesis to Lan Wangji and the false bait to get attached to in Wei Wuxian's first life. I will make the note their meeting in Yiling is lukewarm between both as they exchange nothing really in terms of conversation and all pleasantries are left in terms of Jiang Yanli for Wei Wuxian. By this point Wei Wuxian has already switched his yearnings of platonically wanting a part of Jiang Cheng's life, to subconscious romantic inclinations about Lan Wangji and the perceived loss of being in the other's life.

The very point of Jiang Cheng as the deconstruction, is that he has no passion in life despite his apparent exploits because he put a shadow to hang over himself as an excuse to say others think he is not good enough. He has no deeper motivations than pure selfishness by the end of the work and is pure frivolity that he has built up losing the meaning of his sect as a tradition. He had his agency (more than anyone I might add in the work due to his social position) that he used to build his reputation as a passive rich sect leader that has little to do with civilian problems.

4/?] And I think a JC, somehow, that realizes that he did something wrong and is working hard to change for the better and gain self-actualization to become that UWU best jiujiu the stans want him to be, who is ready to talk (not yell at) with WWX, apologize to him, and create a better, healthier relationship with him is a much more powerful reconciliation and happy ending than 'everyone is wrong and mean and they all apologize to JC, which magically gets rid of all his issues'.

He is forced out of culpability in reconciliation because simply put, his audience do not like the reality that relationships fray and dissolve with no further resolution other than we as adults both need to move on for safety and good health. It is not acceptable in real life and fiction is allowed to place that also in it's thematic relationships. He has a small, small spark of recognition at the end of the main story, however he himself seems to choose to ignore it, as change is hard and he has never taken to that well as was foreshadowed with his dogs and the idea of sharing a space with Wei Wuxian. To write this is an awful lot of work into his psyche which is not a nice place, he is a terrible being and downplaying that to make a sugar sweet person does not work instantaneously. He is the one responsible for the entire fallout with Wei Wuxian and he hysterically realizes that even as he tries to continue to blame Wei Wuxian.

The issue that I have with his current stan culture, is that they already view him as something he is not. They play at bicycle with all of the other protagonists that have positive traits that they strip as they see fit; Good affirming loving to children adult Lan Wangji, Self-sacrificing ultimately did it all for love and care Wei Wuxian, Hard exterior but softened to who they consider an annoyance Wen Qing, Loyal as partners in their exploits on the field and always have each others back Wen Ning. They even take Jin Guangyao's persona of playing damsel and using that as a positive to soften up Jiang Cheng into something he has never been for anyone for ships.

[5/5] Also, making WWX/WN/LWJ apologize just makes them look better than JC. Like, stans supposedly love JC, so they ahouldn't be lazy and work hard to give him actual character development. Again, I'm sorry for spamming your ask. It just really baffles me about where they get these 'hot' takes (All I'm going to say is that JC was ungrateful, and WN had a reason verbally dismantle him).

They see this, but, they will spin it in any way to excuse Jiang Cheng due to the story itself showing that he was in the wrong to everyone he flung accusations at and his hate. No one but him is at fault for his spite as he had gotten his revenge on the ones that had ruined Lotus Pier and killed his parents. His own resentment pitted him against good and well meaning people that he refused to help as he mimicked his mother's words about raising their heads higher out of goodness instead of keeping low and staying self-centered. There is the underlying criticism of taking individual arrogance as self-care at the cost of others. Each point that Wen Ning makes is exactly what Jiang Cheng himself knows as he hated Wei Wuxian for being something he could not be or even wanted to be. Jiang Cheng wants kindness but does not understand that kindness to others needs to be selfless and accept the hurt that can come with that in life. He encompasses the fall from the path of buddhist lifestyle, "The Three Poisons" to Wangxian's "Without Envy" at the stories end.

[6/5] P.S. I'm not saying I want reconciliation fics, but I just feel that if stans want JC to have a happy ending, then I think that he should actively work for it. I think it would be interesting to see what force of nature would push him through a character development because throwing a therapist at him would result in a murder.

"I'm not saying I want reconciliation fics, but I just feel that if stans want JC to have a happy ending, then I think that he should actively work for it."

They do not think he has to work for it, they say his tragedy is enough, while heaping accusations against Wei Wuxian and saying his own are not enough to absolve him. Something Wei Wuxian has never denied and told all present they are allowed to forever hate him for what he had done in the past, but that they need to find a way to live in a life that is always moving on. He learned that grudges do nothing once they are absolved and it leaves you with hate with nothing else to do with it once that object is gone. In terms of reconciliation, I do not ever think that either want anything other than a distant peaceful out of each other's life set up. Jiang Cheng does not need Wei Wuxian in his life to be satisfied and never has since he used him as the handicap to hide behind to stay angry and miserable. Being without that fallback opens the world far more for him to change than him ever interacting like an old friend with Wei Wuxian ever again, if he ever had the guts to do that.

[teletraan-meets-jarvis]

Monster - Part 2

AO3 Link

Characters: Commander Fox (Main), Commander Wolffe, Commander Cody, Captain Rex, Commander Stone, Corrie Medic Triage (OC).

Summary: Fox deals with the aftermath of his actions, unsure as to whether his brothers can forgive him.

Warnings: 16+, swearing, mentions of death.

Word Count: 3.5k

Part 1 here

Author’s Notes: I've been agonising over this chapter for far longer than necessary so please take it from me. Hopefully it's not complete gibberish. Feedback is appreciated as always, it's my first time writing such prominent clones all as proper characters in a fic so would be great to know what went well and where I can improve! This fic ends with this chapter but the ending leaves it open for imagination, if anyone has any cool thoughts for what may happen my inbox is always open to discuss further! Fic is below the cut, enjoy 😊.

When Fox next came around he was on the cheap sofa in his office. The rigid object making his back stiff, he must’ve been out for a while. He groaned as he attempted to sit up. He felt weak, his entire body sore and sensitive as he shuffled about.

“Welcome back, sunshine.” Stone greeted him while Triage appeared and started poking at him. Stone must’ve relieved Thorn from Fox babysitting duty. The thought made the Commander groan.

“How you feeling, boss?” The medic questioned as he started shining a small light into his eyes.

“Shit” he replied truthfully. “What happened?”

“You had a breakdown, a bad one.” The matter-of-fact bedside manner of the Guard’s chief medical officer was something Fox usually favoured, except when he was on the receiving end of it of course.

“Oh”

“It’s lucky Thorn found you when he did.” Triage chided while tapping away at his Datapad. His clean-shaven face focused as he went about the task. “You’ve got a visitor by the way”

“Hey vod” the gruff voice was followed by an even gruffer Commander strolling into view. What was Wolffe doing here?

“Thorn called.” Hm apparently he’d asked his question aloud.

Fox hadn’t seen Wolffe in months, he was always away on missions and rarely got down time when his Jedi had to return to Coruscant. His scar still stood out prominently against his tanned skin, but it looked better each time he saw him again, like it was slowly settling in to being a part of him. His armour was tattered, the grey paint scratched and chipped while the white plastoid was covered in the dirt of battle.

“Well I’m fi-“

“Don’t try it mir’sheb. I know what happened.” Fox flinched. Wolffe’s tone was flat when he spoke, his face unreadable and despite being one of the eldest of their batch, Fox felt very vulnerable under his little brother’s gaze.

As cadets and during command training, their batch had always been close, but Fox could confidently call Wolffe his best friend out of the lot. Their competitive nature pushed them to always be the best, their dry humour so cutting that only the other could truly understand it for what it was. Both of them were blunt, but over the years, the war had moulded them slightly differently. Where Fox was hardened and distant from his time on Coruscant, surprisingly, some of Wolffe’s ragged edges to his personality had softened. Not really noticeable if you didn’t know him from before, but Fox chalked it up to the friendship and mentoring of his wise Jedi and also his position as a Commander. Wolffe had lost his entire battalion early on in the war and Fox had held his heartbroken vodas he swore he would never let anything come between him and his men ever again. From that point on, Wolffe had gotten to know each member of his squad personally, always ensuring that they knew that despite his hard exterior, he’d always be there for them if they needed it.

Despite all this and how well Fox knew his brother, all that knowledge was doing nothing for him in his current situation. Wolffe knew that he’d killed another clone, yet he hadn’t lashed out yet. Was he just waiting until they were alone? The tension in the air threatening to smother them with each second that passed. Fox wasn’t ready for this conversation.

“We’ll give you two some privacy.” Triage announced before dragging a worried looking Stone out behind him.

Fox didn’t say anything, he just waited for the onslaught from his younger brother. He was sporting his signature frown which could mean a hundred different things.

“Before we even get into this, I just need you to know that we don’t hate you, Fox. We’ll always love you, you di’kut.” Wolffe’s voice finally carried some emotion now that they were alone. It held a mixture of things, brotherly frustration at Fox’s self-loathing, a fear for finding out things he might not want the answer to and the smallest twinge of betrayal for what Fox had done. But among the rest of it, among the words said, there was love. Fox huffed out a humourless laugh.

“Beats me as to why”

“We’re family. We don’t need a reason. We’re stuck with each other, whether you like it or not.”

Silence lingered between them as Fox finally found the courage to speak about the elephant in the room.

“I don’t know why I did it. I didn’t mean to.” His voice was faint, almost like if he said it any louder it’d all be real.

“I know ori’vod”

Fox finally launched into an explanation of what happened. His chest constricting further and further, threatening to rob his body of air as he pushed himself to get the story out. His hands shook in fear of what his closest brother would think of him, of what he’d done. Wolffe hadn’t spoken during the entire story, resigned to just watching him from his perch on his desk. Fox was panicking.

After what felt like the longest silence of Fox’s life, the younger Commander exhaled roughly, his bare hands rubbing at his scar out of habit as he processed the information. “You told Rex this?” Fox was shocked that out of everything to ask, that that was his question. The Guard Commander shook his head.

“Well, we better get him over here” Fox jumped out of his seat and placed a hand over his brother’s comm link.

“Kriff Wolffe, the poor guy has suffered enough. Last thing he needs is me begging for forgiveness for something he can’t forgive. I killed one of our own, one of his last few best friends. He hates me. And I really don’t blame him.”

“Maybe so, but he deserves to hear the truth from you. Whether or not he believes it is up to him.” Reluctantly, he let his arm go and stalked back over to the sofa. “I’ll comm Cody, he’s over there with him now.”

“Didn’t realise you were both planet side.” Fox grunted out, he could really do with some caff, his body was exhausted.

“The 104th were on their way back since Plo had some Jedi stuff to do, we touched down this afternoon. As for the 212th, they finished their last mission and once they heard about everything that’d been going on, General Kenobi requested they come back to help out. Though I have a feeling that was Cody wanting to check in on Rex.”

Fox wanted to ask how Rex was, but the searing guilt that burned in his chest couldn’t bear to ask the question. So he decided to check on some people who potentially hated him a smidge less, only a smidge though.

“Have you heard from the others?”

Wolffe nodded and went on to tell him about what the rest of their batch had been up to. Gree had recently been assigned to General Yoda, who he was absolutely terrified of. Fox didn’t blame him, the Jedi was extremely powerful for someone so pint sized, he’d also heard that he had a wicked sense of humour which would definitely stress Gree out, much to the amusement to the rest of his batch. Ponds was getting on nicely with Mace, they’d recently had a successful campaign near the outer rim and were due back on Coruscant soon. The eldest of their batch, Bly, was doing well too. Apparently Wolffe thought he had the hots for his General as Bly apparently refused to shut up about how amazing and strong and caring she was. Fox wasn’t sure if he was messing with him or not, but the thought brought a small smile to his face nonetheless. Trust Bly to fall in love with his Jedi General.

“What about you? How’s life in the Corrie Guard?” Wolffe asked.

Where could he even begin. Fox never offloaded about his problems onto anyone, except maybe his fellow Commanders in the Guard who he shared the burden with. Wolffe wouldn’t understand. A part of him also wanted to be the dutiful big brother and not place any worries or fears onto his vod’ika.

“Not much to report, same as always” he wasn’t lying at least. It was easier this way, for them not to know. They could keep thinking he was safe away from the battlefield. Their hopes in this war were already pretty low, they didn’t need to know about the horrors that lurked away, hidden among the senate corridors and the low levels of Coruscant.

——————————

Anxiety gripped at Fox’s chest as he paced a hole into his metal office floor. Waiting for Cody and Rex made him feel as if he was waiting for a death sentence. He thought of all the ways he could potentially escape but he knew Wolffe would be all over him. The 104th Commander always was a fan of tough love and things didn’t get tougher than this.

There was a slight commotion outside which pulled the both of them to attention.

Rex came storming in, his face set like stone, an angry frown marring his features and deepening the creases in his forehead. Once he set his sights on Fox nothing could deter him. “Rex, wait!” Wolffe shouted but he couldn’t stop him in time. Rex’s fist slammed into Fox’s nose with a sickening crack, sending the Commander sprawling backwards, catching himself on his desk as his nose started gushing blood.

Cody ran in from nowhere and locked Rex’s arms behind his back, trying to calm their little brother. “Rex, will you just listen to him.” He shouted down his ear while Fox recovered from the blow, cradling his now broken nose as Wolffe came to his side to help him back up.

“Why? Why should I listen? He didn’t listen to Fives!” Rex screamed back as he writhed in Cody’s arms. His words cut into Fox, making him grimace.

“I know. I’m so sorry, Rex.” Fox apologised with a burning sincerity, but it only deepened the frown on Rex’s face.

“I don’t want your apologies.” The Captain shouted back, gone was his usual professional composure. Right now he was a broken man who’d lost one of the last few people he’d let get close to him. There was no rank in this room right now, they were just a group of hurting vod, trying to pick up the pieces.

Rex spat his words out at Fox with a look that could kill, he probably wanted it to. He looked like he wanted Fox to hurt as much as he was right now. “Maker, I know Palpatine had you wrapped around his finger, I just didn’t realise how much.” Ouch.

“Rex” Cody reprimanded, his Marshall Commander voice coming out as he tried to defuse the situation. The Captain’s face was still masked in hurt and anger, but he did back down slightly after his verbal blow. “The past couple days has been hard for you vod, we know that and we’re here for you. But we wouldn’t be asking you to listen to Fox right now if we didn’t think it was worth it. Please, just give him a chance.” Once he finished, he nodded at Fox to signal him to get started. He took a deep breath and readied himself to try and explain the unexplainable.

“I know it sounds ridiculous but what happened back there, It wasn’t me” he started, and Rex just scoffed, still struggling against Cody’s hold. “Look, I can’t explain it. But I set that gun to stun, I swear to you, Rex. I know you all think I’m some cold, order-following droid but I would’ve brought him… I would’ve brought Fives, in for questioning. You- you have to believe me.” Fox pleaded, blood still trickling down his face from his broken nose. He wasn’t their usual, sarcastic, caffeine deprived big brother. No, Fox was a complete mess as he tried to reason with Rex. He couldn’t bare his brothers thinking that he did this willingly, that he’d turn on his own kind with just a simple order.

“What do you mean it wasn’t you?” Rex’s gaze was still unsure, but he’d never seen Fox like this before. He looked desperate, much like Fives had.

“I- I blacked out. One minute we were moving in and as soon as I saw Fives, and I know this sounds crazy, it’s like something else took over. I was just watching from the sidelines.” Fox gave an exasperated sigh as he tried to explain himself.

“Like something was controlling you?” Rex asked, the cogs in his brain turning as he waited for a reply. Fox just gave an ashamed nod and dreaded realisation dawned on Rex’s face.

“Maybe Fives wasn’t crazy” he said it as barely a whisper but with the silence in the room they all managed to hear it.

“What do you mean?” Cody questioned as he finally let his vod’ika go, content that he wasn’t going to assault the Guard Commander further. Rex used the freedom to go and lock the door to Fox’s office.

“What I’m about to say doesn’t leave this room, understand? No one can know, not our vode, not your Jedi, nobody.” The three of them nodded.

“Before he died, Fives was trying to explain what was going on to General Skywalker and me, he said that there’s something in our heads that could make us do whatever someone wanted… Even kill the Jedi.” Wolffe and Cody’s eyes widened at the thought, finding it impossible to even comprehend hurting their Generals who they cared for deeply.

“And if, if, he’s right about that, well, he said the Chancellor is in on the whole thing. That he set him up. And as insane as it sounds, that could explain why he sent Fox, of all people, to hunt him down.” Rex finally spared him a glance that wasn’t filled with complete hate, there was a slight bit of pity in for good measure instead.

“You’re saying that the Chancellor has some sort of control over me?” Fox replied. The colour draining from his face as he considered the option.

“I’m saying… it’s a possibility. After seeing what happened with Tup, what you’re saying happened to you doesn’t seem far off. He had no idea why he killed General Tiplar. Said he didn’t mean to hurt her.”

“Okay hold on, so you’re trying to tell us that Fives uncovered a plot by the Chancellor which involves all of the clones having something in their heads which allows them to be controlled, with the likely purpose of it being to kill the Jedi?” Wolffe asked with the hopes that he might wake up from this weird dream he found himself in.

“Pretty much” Rex replied.

“Ozik” Cody cursed. “And you believe him? Fives? You sure he didn’t just lose it?” The Marshal Commander needed this final confirmation from his brother.

“I-” Rex exhaled and dragged a gloved hand down his face “I think I do. I wasn’t sure before but with what Fox is saying, it’s all a bit too much of a coincidence. I believe him enough to at least look into what he was talking about. He wouldn’t have risked everything he did for nothing.”

Fox tried to keep breathing as the conversation went on. Controlled. A plot to kill the Jedi. Maker this was too much. Surely they had to be wrong. But then he remembered his shit show of a life, the things that the chancellor made him do, things he’d never do willingly if he had the choice like a true sentient being. Maybe it wasn’t such a faraway reality. He repressed the shiver that threatened his body.

“You do realise we’ll get executed on the spot if we’re found looking into this. This is treason. If what you’re saying is true, then it sounds like they went to some pretty serious lengths to keep Fives from outing them.” Wolffe added, ever the pessimist. Not that Fox blamed him, they were moving into dangerous territory with this talk.

“You three can walk away, but I owe this to Fives and Tup.” Rex said, conviction written all over his face.

“I’m in” Fox announced as he wiped most of the blood away from his nose and mouth. The ache from his broken nose setting in as the adrenaline from his and Rex’s confrontation started wearing off.

Wolffe and Cody shared a glance, a silent conversation taking place between the two of them. They both shared strong bonds with their Jedi in different ways, they wanted to do everything in their power to protect them, but could they keep this a secret for long enough? Obi-Wan and Plo were very in touch with their Commander’s emotions. There was a chance they’ll figure out something was up sooner than they’d like. They would just have to work fast. Cody nodded at Wolffe, and the decision was made.

“We’re in too” Wolffe confirmed. “I don’t want any more of our brothers to die if we can help it.”

“What about Skywalker? He was with you and Fives, do we at least have him on side?” Cody asked and Rex pulled a disappointed face.

“As soon as Fives mentioned the Chancellor being involved, Anakin wrote the whole thing off… It’s just us.”

“We can work with that” Cody comforted with a hand on his little brother’s shoulder and a small smile. The Commander’s comm link started chirping and he gave them all a sorry look. “It’s the General, I better take this and head back. But we’ll catch up later.”

“79’s?” Wolffe offered. Despite none of them fancying a night out, there was no better place to get privacy than a noisy bar filled with identical faces. Cody nodded and quickly departed.

Eventually they had to call Triage back to deal with Fox’s nose. He’d done well to hide the pain during the chat between the four of them, but it had quickly started to take over his thoughts. Thankfully his CMO came armed with pain stims and for once, Fox didn’t get absolutely ripped into by the medic as this injury wasn’t a result of his own stupidity. Well, to be fair, he was sure that assessment was up for debate, especially from Rex who was talking quietly with Wolffe around Fox’s desk.

Fox poked at the metal brace and bandages on his nose, the Bacta patch under it was a squishy texture. Triage knocked his hand away like a parent would a child who was reaching for the last cookie. “Don’t touch it” he warned, and Fox moved his hands back down to his side. “Given our accelerated cell regen and the Bacta patch, you should be good to wear your helmet again by tomorrow” Fox gave his thanks to the medic by clasping his wrist in a handshake before he was left alone with his vode again.

Wolffe conveniently dipped out to use the fresher, leaving Rex and Fox alone for the first time since the incident. Fox’s heart rate sped up as he thought about it, the scenes of Fives’ death playing over and over again in his head like a horror film on repeat. That look on Rex’s face when their eyes met over Fives’ body, seared into his brain as a constant reminder of what he did.

They stared at each other from across the room, Fox was still sat on his cheap, rock solid couch while Rex was stood by his desk.

Fox couldn’t hold the eye contact; he broke it off and shifted his gaze to his hands.

“I don’t expect you to forgive me. It’s not what I’m asking for, you're well within your rights to hate me. But I just want you to know that I wouldn’t hurt you like this willingly. It’s the last thing I’d ever want.” Fox broke the silence. Still not brave enough to meet Rex’s eyes, to see the disappointment and betrayal which would likely be waiting for him.

He heard some shuffling and the couch sink down slightly beside him. He dared a look over and saw Rex’s scratched leg armour.

“I don’t hate you, Fox. I know you were put in a tough situation. I know I like to think I would’ve handled it differently, but truth be told, I don’t know what could’ve happened if Fives didn't put us in that ray shield. And while I don’t want to think about it, I have a feeling someone would’ve got to him eventually. It was inevitable.” He paused and took a shuddering breath. “I just… I just need a bit of time.”

“I appreciate that, take all the time you need.” They both shared a small smile, content that they’d get past this together. There was light on the other side of this dark tunnel.

Rex really did care about Fox; he’d always looked up to him over the years. He remembers the small stuff, the words of encouragement when a training simulator went wrong, the proud look on his face when he got promoted to Captain, the many nights of drinking Thire’s rocket-fuel moonshine in Fox’s office when Rex needed to escape from the war for a few hours.

They’d be fine, time was always the best healer. Fox just hoped that they had enough time left.

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