#i dont count it as such but its an idea that's been bouncing on my head and thats how my tagging system works.

[farolero-posting]

The average robot in OneShot doesn't have a breakdown about paradoxes or the three laws or anything like what happened to TWM because if something is slightly out of their programming they just don't do it. Niko asks robots to do things for them throughout their journey and half of the time they're like "Oh, I cannot solve problems outside of this room, it is not in my programming" and then they move on with whatever it is they're built to do. The Second Law doesn't apply if they don't even know how to obey the order you give them.

[starryhutcherson]

do you do male requests? If u do I have an idea 😄 maybe a one shot where the reader is pinning desperately over clapton, but doesn’t think he’d like someone like him since he’s a bit nerdy. But in reality clapton is also the biggest dork ever and likes him just as much:3

━━ OPPOSITES ATTRACT

author's note: i try to keep all my fanfiction gender neutral, except for smut which i write with a female reader, just because i don't really know how to write good male smut, so seeing as this is just a fluffy fic i made it gender neutral as usual thank you for your request! also i stayed up until the ungodly hours of the morning to finish this so pls dont judge if its shit i did my best

'୧ ‧₊ pairing: clapton davis x nerdy!reader warnings: swearing word count: 2500+ ⋆ ✩‧₊

After you’d reached Junior year at Grizzly Lake High, you’d accepted the plaguing reality in which you were a nerd. With your plethora of knowledge regarding random facts, active participation in the school newspaper editorial committee, and expertise in your pre-calculus class, it’s reasonable to say that you were not a typical, soulless high-school student like the rest of the Grizzly population, and it was something that you’d grown to accept.

Being sort of geeky wasn’t all that bad – you had a close knit circle of friends who shared similar interests, and you were excelling in all your classes, so there wasn’t really a reason for you to have contempt towards your social status, right?

Wrong.

You had one very strong reason, a reason adorned in obnoxiously colored clothes and a reason that you were recently paired up with for a science project. 

Clapton Davis. 

You’d had the privilege of sitting near him for nearly a year now, thanks to Ms. Hudson’s seating plan which had situated you just a few desks away from him. To state that you stared at him for the duration of most (all) lessons would be a little creepy, but it was hard not to, when the afternoon hit its peak and you were able to watch the syrupy sunlight crease right over his figure like fine silk — how are eyes that warm possible? Is that shade of brown even real?

You’re in far too deep for someone who you’ve hardly spoken a word to, sure, but could anyone blame you? You couldn’t help it– the lingering glances sent from the overcast shadows of your desk, tucked into a corner of the classroom, pining hopelessly, bouncing your knee with repeated, tense motions and scattering love-heart encircled initials all over your paper. 

Fuck. 

The real kick in the teeth was the fact that Clapton was somebody, at least at this school. He was propped up by popularity and people, effortlessly perched at the head of the social pyramid of Grizzly High, and you certainly were not. Superficial bullshit like this never bothered you in the past, but the fact that Clapton was so comically out of reach felt like a deliberate joke aimed squarely at you, and for lack of better words, it sucked. 

It was taxing labor to try and tolerate your complete lack of a chance with him at the best of times, when you were nestled in the back of classrooms, hopelessly admiring his figure, or passing him in the halls and basking in the fleeting smiles you exchanged – but seeing him up close, being a mere breath away from him, hands making contact for abiding moments that spark against your skin… you deem it the cruelest torture of all. 

The project you’d been paired up for was relatively simple – creating some predictable poster on mitochondrial DNA, but considering the prospect of working alongside Clapton, it became of far greater interest than it should be, science became a highlight of your timetable, a rarity even for you. 

And it’s where you are currently, tense against the stool you’re seated at, knuckles pulsing with a dull ache from cracking them right against the maple wood of the desk — Clapton’s complaining about the point of this whole thing and you attempt to explain the delicate concept of nucleotide composition, while trying not to sound like a complete and utter loser. You’re failing substantially. 

“No, so– the phosphate group is part of the main components which are what form the DNA, but deoxyribose–”

“De–what?”

You huff, wiping sodden palms against the plane of your denim-bound thigh. 

“It’s not—”

“I can’t focus here anyway. It’s too loud,” he grunts, opting to etch his initials onto the side of the desk with deliberate, harsh carvings of his pencil. 

Your gaze swallows up his convex figure. Boredom. Ouch. 

“I can just do it all, if you, uh, want.” 

His head cocks upwards – it’s a tempting offer. But he’s not a douchebag. No matter what people might insinuate. A gradual smirk tugs downwards at the curvature of his lips, hands stilling their previous motions as he turns up to you. 

“No, you don’t gotta do that. Just come over to my place after school or something, you can explain it there, right?”

Your throat clots as though you’ve swallowed mud— your words feel heavy on your tongue and you don’t dare glance upwards from the paper in front of you, in fear of him finding the elation that’s erupting across your guise. 

His house? His house? It feels like an elaborate prank – how how how were you supposed to resist him if he was openly inviting you over? Your nails bite into the exposed flesh of your palm, leaving raw crescent marks in their wake. You couldn’t turn down the opportunity, even if every second would be agony, having him dangled in front of you, so close yet so far. 

You croak out a weak, “Oh, sure, that sounds good—” it sounds better than good. 

But it also sounds worse than it as well. You develop a looming sense of nervousness, forcing your fingers deeper into your skin, choking back a scream of intolerance. What would you even talk about? Sports? Shoes? Or just this stupid project?

He seems to sense your displeasure, because he answers it with a chuckle. “Chill. I don’t bite. Y’know, unless you want me to.”

Cocky prick. 

✩‧₊˚

The walk to Clapton’s house went smoother than you anticipated, casual conversation playing on loop as you wind through the bends of each mundane neighborhood that Grizzly Lake has to offer – his house is the same as a thousand others, but you wear a smile and offer lousy compliments anyway, to which he rolls his eyes a little and tells you that it’s nice or whatever. 

Maybe he’s picked up on your inherent adoration, maybe he’s just toying around with you. You’re not sure– but his damn hypnotic eyes are distracting you from your purpose– mitochondrial composition. Super interesting. 

The pair of you are slumped against his bed, surrounded by sunwashed memorabilia as the afternoon begins to bleed into the evening. Your progress is limited, but you don’t care. Your proximity is the only thing settling in your mind, like dust upon your shoulders and in your throat– you can taste his breathing as it fans across your neck. 

Cedarwood seeps into every crevice of your skin – he’s too damn close. You’re not sure you can take this. 

“It’s sort of like lego.”

Your voice cuts through the incessant tide of your wandering thoughts. 

“Lego?” “Yeah. Y’know— like, okay, the phosphate is the base, and then the sugar molecule connects to that, and then the nitrogenous base is like, your unique pieces, y’know, color, size, whatever, it gives the DNA it’s unique features.”

“Sort of… following?” You grin at the achievement. 

“That’s good!” 

“I never usually get this stuff, so uh, thanks.”

Your heartstrings tangle into one unfathomably tight knot, and your nerves pulse in sharp bouts beneath the surface of your skin. He’s thanking you. And he’s smiling too, pearly whites seeming near opalescent, but maybe that’s your mind, warped with ecstasy. You wished you had more to talk about though. More to offer. But what were you supposed to bring up, your comic book collection? He’d probably laugh in your face. 

“It’s all good. I’m glad I could help you.” His grin widens fractionally. 

“I’m glad too.”

A moment’s silence flutters by. 

“So uh–”

"Should we-"

You chuckle, a smidge awkward, as your sentences overlap. 

“You first,” he tells you, and you shift timidly on his bed, accompanied by the dull squeak of his mattress.  

“Just uh… wondering if I should go.”

He appears to tense, just for a moment, as if your words had implications that you weren’t aware of, but it dissolves as quickly as it came and you can’t analyze his feelings in time. 

“Yeah, sure. Whatever you want.”

Whatever you want. You’re sure he doesn’t want the true answer to that. What you want, what you absolutely want, is mere inches away from you, looking preternatural in the first whispers of a mid-autumn sunset, splayed across his bed with a boyish grin, whatever you want is right there, waiting and daring you to try and take it. You don’t. You can’t. 

“Okay. Uh, see you tomorrow then.”

Shit.

✩‧₊˚

The aforementioned tomorrow is so inconsequentially boring that you debate coming home early. You’ve got nothing planned, no important subjects, and every time you pass Clapton in the hallways, greeted with an elusive raise of the eyebrows or a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it grin, it gets harder and harder to ignore the fiery feelings in your body. 

You can barely take the spiderwebs of angst growing across your stomach, tangled into your thoughts– Clapton. That’s all you can seem to find threaded into every fissure in your psyche. It feels like every stray thought is the gnawing reminder that Clapton isn’t yours. How are you supposed to focus on physics when those honey-sweet eyes are eternally burnt into the forefront of your mind? You’re seconds away from tearing out your own fucking hair, it’s so unlike you to get worked up by something like this. 

Yet here you are. 

Here you are, staring emptily down at your worksheet, filling in the answers with ease, wondering how much easier it would be to attract attention if you had more appealing interests. If you knew how to skateboard instead of the elements of the periodic table, if you spent your money on clothes instead of comics. Shit. Shit, you really liked him and he really probably didn’t like you. It stings like a childhood wound, like hydrogen peroxide festering amongst skinned knees. 

Fuck this.

✩‧₊˚

The day is achingly slow, boredom clinging to the air and swallowing you whole. Each class just feels like going through the motions, your thoughts are stuck on one thing and one thing only, and you hyperfixate on every previous interaction with him, sourly regretting every word you’ve ever spoken, praying he didn’t think they were as weird as you did. 

You want to scream! The schoolbell released you after what seemed like decades, and now you’re shuffling down the streets back to your house, where you can hopefully catch a break from your constant stream of deprecating thoughts, but no. 

The roll of a skateboard pounding against the graveled roads becomes audible as it slows behind you, a familiar voice cuts through the silence. 

“Going home?”

It's him.

You turn around, plastering a weak smile across your face. 

“Uh, yeah. Why?” He inches a little closer, picking up his board and tucking it under his arm. “Can I come over?”

Your stomach snags on itself, an airy sensation spreading across every tense limb. It’s a bold move, but it’s a welcome one. 

“For the project?” He shrugs. “Yeah, sure. Also just to hang out.”

You perk a smile at this, for a brief moment, before it melts directly from your face. Clapton in your house? Clapton in your room? You visualize each poster, each stupid certificate your mom made you hang up on your wall— he can’t go in there. You’d die of shame. 

“Oh, uh, I’m kinda— busy.” He frowns. “Seriously? C’mon, just for, like, an hour.”

“Clapton—”

“Please?”

It should flatter you, how desperate he comes across, but you’re too worried that after he sees you, like, the real you, presented through your room and your stuff and your interests, that he’ll be weirded out, and scamper away to some cheerleader or something. Still, those pleading eyes work wonders on you, and it becomes impossible to refuse them. 

“Okay, fine. An hour,” you mumble, and set off back on your journey home with him following close behind. 

You make it to your house, hesitantly guiding him into your bedroom– he doesn’t seem to have much of a reaction. You were definitely overthinking it. 

He makes himself welcome, collapsing on your bed with a sigh, laying sprawled on his back with his eyes trained on your ceiling, eye to eye with your collector’s edition Return of the Jedi poster, limited edition, signed. 

You tentatively join him.

“You like Star Wars?”

He asks, gesturing to the poster, no teasing present in his tone. 

“Oh, uh, yeah.”

“Seriously? What’s this one about?”

You can’t help yourself– he seems properly interested, and even if the question was merely to start conversation you attack it, spluttering eager sentences about the plot and the characters and oh fuck, you’re really going on about it. His eyes have left the poster and he’s rolled onto his side, vision stuck straight on you, he’s probably judging you. 

You cut your own sentence midway, feeling the apples of your cheeks redden with embarrassment as you shrink back down to your previously timid self. 

“Sorry. My bad,” you mumble, picking a loose thread on your duvet. He notices, faltering a little. 

“What? No, come on. I’m invested now.”

You sigh, your eyes drilling holes into your shoes, where they stay staring. “Why? Why do you keep, like, talking to me and stuff?” He sits up so he can join you, shoulder resting beside yours. “What’d you mean?”

Your body feels uncomfortably taut with the suspense of this tangible moment, and you decide that you might as well get this swollen feeling off your chest before it bursts inside of you. 

A moment’s silence. A bated breath. You harness whatever confidence you can find in yourself (though it’s pretty barren), and go for it before your thoughts can catch up to you. 

“I just– I’m not, like… I’m not like your other friends. And I… I dunno, I… look, I like you. Like, I really like you, and I know it’s stupid, but I feel like you keep on giving me, like, mixed signals– but I don’t wanna—”

“Wait, you like me?”

You let out a begrudging exhale. “I know, it’s stupid–”

“What? You’re kidding right? You’re, like, perfect.”

Your head jolts to him so quickly you’re surprised you don’t get whiplash. 

“I mean, don’t get me wrong, you’re super pretty, but like– you’re smart, and you’re nice, and you’re funny… you seriously like me?”

You’re barely processing. It feels like you’ve swallowed rose thorns, like every grain of sand has settled in the pit of your stomach, filling you up from the inside out, drying out the cavity of your throat. 

“Y–yeah?”

He chuckles, a noise you want sewn into your memory forever. “I like you too. I totally have for ages.”

Your eyes nearly bulge out of your skull. “Are you serious?”

Again, he flaunts that grin that you’ve marveled at for far too long. And it takes you a moment to realize he’s not replying– not with words. But his face is closer than before, and suddenly you could count every freckle, you could name every color in the ring of his iris, and he’s closer still, and only your eyes are doing the talking, and then his soft lips hit yours and everything stone inside you cracks. 

He moves gently, as if you’re made of frozen sugar; his hands find your waist, he paws at it slowly, too much, not enough— and then he pulls away. 

“That serious enough for you?”

You stammer out a butchered sentence, before roping yourself together, somewhat. “You can’t do that!” You choke, though there’s no malice in your tone, because he can hear your smile, even before he can see it. 

“Just did, baby.”

“You’re unreal. This— this isn’t real,” you chuckle in awe. 

“Mmm… I’d say it’s pretty real,” he smirks, reaching for your hand and squeezing it for emphasis. 

“Why’d you like me?” If you hunt for it, you can still taste the vestige of him on your trembling lips. 

“I just said, remember? You’re really generous, and you’re, like, patient with me, when nobody else is. And you’re painfully hot.”

You snort at this. “You’re the hot one.”

“Hey, we can both be hot.”

You giggle, squeezing his hand back, you fall into a pattern. You fade into him. 

“Oh my god, I actually can’t believe this.”

He presses a chaste peck to the canvas of your cheek, spreading a ruby flush that’s all for him. 

“Believe it.”

And you start to.

masterlist

✩‧₊˚

[vodika-vibes]

😌 idk if my first request for a fox x reader went through but i’ve been reading a lot (ofc whats new) and uh uh I found I really love fics with CX-2 (Clone Assassin) aND SO, to my favorite SW writer I ask;

How bout a soulmate au with CX-2 (?) Could be a bit of angst with a happy ending, and everyone is just wondering how reader could be with him after all the things he’s done (uh im getting sunshine!reader x grumpy character vibes)

dont have to write this! i just would love to see some more cx-2 fics after reading one just now lol also im down the rabbit hole again that its cx-2!tech whose been reconditioned, do what you feel is best but i just love that theory bc I’m a firm believer too that tech never died 😌

Protective

Summary: For a long time, your parents feared that you didn’t have a soulmate. Until, one morning, you woke up and found a wild dog curled up next to you on your bed. You named him Noir, and the people around you quickly learned that he was fiercely protective of you. However, after Noir kills an Imperial Officer after he threatens, you have no choice but to go on the run.

Pairing: CX-2 x F!Reader, background Tech x Phee

Word Count: 2799

Warnings: None

Prompt: Soulmate AU - soulmates have spirit animals representing each other.

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly

A/N: So I wasn't able to get the angst to work, largely because I wasn't in an angsty mood. Also, as much as I love the CX-2 being Tech idea, I had a different idea for this fic, so I hope you like it!

“What d’ya have there, Noir?” You ask as you return to the small hut that has been your home for the last three months and crouch in front of your oldest companion.

Noir’s tail wags rapidly as he nudges something in your direction.

You gently rub his head, then carefully pick up his offering, “Oh, it’s a fish. Did you find dinner for us, pal?”

Noir releases a happy yip, and you laugh softly, “Good job, Noir.” You stand and carry the fish over to the rough kitchen to divvy up the portions. Most of the fish will go to Noir, while you’ll prepare your portion with some seasoning that the Wookies traded with you.

Three months ago, Noir slaughtered an Imperial Officer who threatened your life. You’ve always known that he is fiercely protective of you, and you knew that there was a chance that he would kill again if you were threatened.

The first time it happened you had still been a child. Your uncle tried to kidnap you, and Noir reacted violently. 

That time, the authorities just nodded and said it made sense, that your uncle had bad intentions. Neither you, nor Noir, were punished for the death of your uncle.

The Empire is much less understanding.

You had no choice but to take Noir and flee from Coruscant.

The pair of you bounced from planet to planet for several months and then were offered a safe house on Kashyyyk, in the Shadowlands far below the treetop homes of the Wookie people.

It’s not easy.

You are, at your heart, a city girl. Hunting and survival skills do not come naturally to you. Luckily, you have Noir. He really is the greatest equalizer.

If not for him, you’d have died several times since you moved into the small hut.

The biggest downside to this whole situation is the knowledge that you’re not likely to ever meet your soul mate.

Well, unless your soulmate is a Wookie, you suppose.

Carefully, you fillet the fish on your cutting board and toss the large majority into Noir’s bowl, the rest is set in a bowl of marinade and shoved into the fridge. 

At least you have electricity. 

Sure, you don’t have a holo, but you do have a radio that allows you to keep up to date on the current events, and, much more importantly, listen to books while you fight to keep the Shadowlands from reclaiming the hut.

You’re about to flip the radio on, when Noir releases a low growl.

A growl low enough that your hair stands on end.

You turn your gaze to Noir and see that his ears are flat against his head and his teeth are bared. Spooked, you reach for your belt and grab your blaster, and then you nudge the door open.

Noir slinks out of the hut and, cautiously, you follow him.

The forest is silent. Eerily silent. 

You scan the forest around you, not that you expect to be able to see or hear anything. It’s enough that Noir is still growling as though he’s on the verge of attacking.

There’s a rustle in a bush, and you lift your blaster, only to lower it as a small, curious-looking creature ambles out. It’s red, black, and white, and you’d almost think it was a raccoon if not for the colors.

Noir is still growling like there’s a threat, but he’s ignoring the small creature, which is still ambling towards you. It stops at your feet and raises on its hind legs, and you crouch to get a better look at it.

When Noir first appeared in your bedroom all those years ago, no one was sure what kind of animal he was. Not even the zoologists at the local university were able to determine a species.

So you spent a lot of time as a child flipping through various animal encyclopedias. And, while you’d never claim that you had a perfect memory, this little creature does look familiar.

“You’re a Red Panda, aren’t you?” You murmur as you lightly stroke the soft fur on top of her head, “Your kind isn’t native to Kashyyyk, how did you get here?” What’s more is that she’s soft, as though someone’s been taking care of her, though based on the scarring around her ankles, she’s been chained up a lot. “Are you someone’s pet?”

The red panda climbs into your arms and promptly falls asleep, nuzzling her face into your neck. “Well, you’ve clearly been socialized. Maybe I can do something about the scarring.”

Your head snaps up as there’s more rustling and Noir’s growl lowers.

Five Stormtroopers stumble into the clearing, “There it is!” One of them says as he points at the Red Panda in your arms, “Get it!”

You stumble backward as they lift their blasters and Noir launches himself at the Stormtroopers. 

You’ve always known that Noir was quick. Quick and with a strong bite, but the last time you’ve seen him move this quickly was when you were a child. He manages to kill three of the Stormtroopers before they recognize that he’s a threat.

The fourth and fifth, however, turn their blasters on him.

And, for a moment, you think that you’re going to watch Noir die. 

You only think that for a moment, as another man emerges from the forest. He’s clad in black armor, much unlike the stark white armor of the Stormtroopers. And you watch as he uses a blade to kill one of the Stormtroopers from behind. 

You watch as he and Noir work in concert to kill the last of the Stormtroopers.

And then you watch as Noir jumps up on the man, his tail wagging faster than you’ve ever seen before. The armored man seems surprised at how friendly Noir is, and, to be honest, you are too.

He’s so friendly with the armored man, in fact, that you can’t help but think that Noir is the representation of said armored man.

“Noir,” You say, drawing the attention of both the wild dog and the armored man, “His name is Noir.”

It’s kind of hard to read him, seeing as he’s wearing a helmet, but you’re pretty sure that he’s staring at you. “Ka’ra.” He gestures to the red panda in your arms, “She’s been a prisoner her whole life.”

“That explains the scarring,” You walk over to him and pass him his spirit animal, a small smile crossing your face as Noir drops to his paws and bounces around you. “I have some medical stuff, to wrap her scars if you want.”

He’s quiet for a long time, and then nods once, “I’d appreciate that.”

You lead him into the hut, and motion for him to take a seat anywhere while you dig around for the first aid kit.

Once you find it, you set it on the table and open it to dig through what you have left. “You know, you don’t have to leave your helmet on.” You note lightly, “This is a pretty safe place.”

The man hesitates for a moment, then he nods once and reaches up to pull off his helmet. 

You’re genuinely surprised to see that he’s a clone. He looks like every other clone you’ve ever seen, dark hair, dark eyes, dark skin…though he does have some nasty scarring along the side of his face.

He’s handsome, you decide as you focus back on your medkit. He kind of looks like Noir, if you squint.

Though, now you have to wonder if you look like his Ka’ra.

“Ah, here we go!” You pull several rolls of bandages from the bottom of the kit and some scar powder. “If I remember correctly, this needs to be added to water, and then the bandages need to soak in it for a bit before we apply them—” You mumble under your breath as you flip the bottle and squint at the instructions.

“What’s your name?” The man asks.

You glance at him and introduce yourself absently, before you squint at the directions again, “What’s yours?”

“...CX-2.”

You pause, “Well, it’s nice to meet you. I’ve never actually met another person with a soul animal before.”

“It’s rare, then?”

“One of the rarest soul bonds.” You agree, “The only one that’s more rare is the teleportation one.” You stand to grab a clean bowl and fill it with water before placing it on the table.

“I have a brother with the teleportation soul bond. He vanished one day, never saw him again.” CX replies as he watches you.

“Well, there are a lot of you.” You reply as you add some of the powder to the water and stir it in.

He doesn’t answer for a moment, “What is a human doing on Kashyyyk?”

“Ah…well.” You pause, “Noir killed an Imperial Officer who threatened me.”

CX stares at you for a long time, and then his lips curl up into an amused smile, “Good.”

You shoot him a puzzled look.

“He’s as protective of you as I would be.”

“Yeah, well…he is representative of you, right?” You reply with a small shrug.

“I didn’t expect you to be so calm about it,” CX notes, “You do realize that I’m an assassin, right?”

You start unrolling a roll of bandages, “When I was about eleven years old,” You say quietly, “My uncle tried to kidnap me from my bedroom. Noir,” You nod at the wild dog who is gnawing on a bone, “ripped his throat out before he got me out of the living room.” You look at him, “Why should I be afraid of you?”

CX looks startled for a moment, and then a quiet laugh falls from his lips, “I suppose you have good reason to not be afraid.”

You shrug, “I would prefer it if you didn’t assassinate people anymore, but I’d also prefer to not live in a hut on Kashyyyk, so—” You shrug again, and finally drop the bandages into the water.

“What would you have me do instead?”

“Mm, you can join the Rebellion?”

“Ick.”

A laugh falls from you, “I mean when the Republic was still standing, I never had to worry about Republic Officers threatening me. Within a month of the Republic turning into an Empire, I was threatened by an Imperial Officer.”

“...I suppose that it fair.”

“I’m not going to make you do anything,” You say lightly, “We can stay here if you prefer.”

“We?”

“Well, I assume that you want to stay with me?”

CX gazes at you silently, “I want you safe. So staying does make the most sense.”

You meet his gaze evenly, “I’ll definitely be safer with you, compared to away from you.” You agree.

CX is silent for a long moment, “Mandalore.”

“Beg pardon?”

“There’s a group of former Commandos who have a compound on Mandalore. They’re housing clones and their families.” He explains, “We’ll be safe there.”

“How do you know that?”

“All of the Clones know it.” He says, “Well, save for Alpha Prime, I suppose.”

“How are we supposed to get there?” You ask with a tilt of your head.

“I have a ship.”

You grin at him, and then pull the bandages out of the water, “I think it’s a great idea.”

It takes three weeks for you and CX to get to Mandalore, and it takes even longer for CX to prove that he’s not an active threat to his brothers. You’re not able to help with that, but watching him interact with you does a lot to earn him some goodwill.

You like your new home, it’s not Coruscant, but there is plenty of room for Noir to run around and get spoiled, and he does get spoiled. Not quite as much as CX’s Ka’ra, but pretty close. 

Surprisingly, CX is somewhat clingy. When he’s in the same area as you, his arms are around you, or his hand is in yours. You kind of have the feeling that he’s a little touch starved, so you don’t mind it.

On this particular day, you’re lounging in the sun, watching Noir and Ka’ra play together, while CX is sparring with Ordo (only the Nulls aren’t hesitant about sparring with CX, which is sad, but understandable).

You enjoy watching him spar largely because he tends to spar shirtless.

You’re allowed to be a simple woman when it comes to your soulmate, right?

“Watching them again?” A familiar voice pulls you out of your musing, and you tilt your head back to look up at the familiar man approaching you. “You could join them.”

“Hardly, if Ordo so much as scratched me, both Noir and CX would rip him to shreds.” You pat the ground next to you, “Have a seat, Tech. No need to hover.”

“He still wishes to be called CX?” Tech asks as he sinks to the ground next to you.

“It’s his choice.” You reply easily, “How was your physical therapy?”

“Painful,” Tech replies, matter-of-factly, “However, my healer believes that I am getting to the point where I will no longer need to see them.”

“That’s something. Are you thinking of reaching out to your brothers? Or your soulmate?”

“I am…unsure.”

“Oh?”

“I died.” He says bluntly, wincing as CX manages to flip Ordo onto his back, “I died, and my soul bond is weaker than it was before.”

“I assume your doctor has an opinion on that.”

“Of course. He says that I just need to reach out to Phee.”

“Why haven’t you?”

Tech anxiously adjusts his glasses, “What if she has found someone else?”

“Do you really think that she would?”

“...she is a beautiful and clever woman. Any man would be lucky to have her—” Tech starts.

“You’re borrowing trouble, Tech. You need to call her.”

Tech opens his mouth to reply but stops as CX jogs over.

You smile up at him adoringly, and offer him his water bottle, “Having fun, love?”

He smirks, “Ordo is bitching because I managed to flip him. So we’re having a round two.”

“Of course you are.”

He flashes a tiny grin at you and crouches so he’s able to kiss you quickly before he jogs back over to the sparring ring. His training was so different from his brothers, you can tell based on the scars covering his body, and based on the fact that he’s not quite as solid as Ordo and the other Nulls.

Not that any of that matters to you.

You love him as he is.

“It does not make sense to me how someone as kind as you ended up with someone like him,” Tech admits, “He intimidates everyone, and lashes out when pushed.”

“I’ve never been afraid of him.” You reply with a small grin, “Even when he killed someone in front of me, even when he loses his temper.”

Tech shakes his head, “I believe I understand.”

You tilt your head curiously.

“You are just as insane as he is.”

You aren’t able to help that laughter that bursts from your lips, “I suppose,” You say through your giggles, “that’s one way to view it.”

Tech flashes a crooked smile at you, and then gets back to his feet, “I am going to go send Phee a message, and hope that she forgives me. Enjoy your ogling.”

You fling a handful of grass at him but don’t deny his accusations. 

The spar ends an hour later after it gets too hot for them to continue, and CX makes his way to your side, dropping onto the ground next to you. Immediately his arms slide around your waist and he presses his face against your neck.

“Did you have fun?” You ask as you card your fingers through his curls. 

He hums in response, his arms tightening around you, “I’m glad that you don’t mind coming to these.”

“I enjoy watching you spar.”

He pulls his face away from your neck, “You enjoy watching me do anything.” 

“You are ridiculously handsome.” You shift in his grip slightly so you’re able to press your hands against his cheeks, “I’m a lucky lady.”

“Mm, is that right?” CX asks as he leans in and presses his forehead against yours.

“You’re all sweaty,” You whisper to him. 

“So maybe we should go home,” He offers with an arched brow, “You can wash my hair for me.”

A giggle falls from your lips, “Deal.”

CX grins at you, and crashes his lips against yours, knocking you back onto the grass.

Everything isn’t perfect, CX still needs gene therapy to remove the enhanced aging, not to mention regular therapy to help deal with all of his issues. But so long as you’re together, everything will be fine.

You won’t allow for anything else.

[kuni-is-daddy]

WORKING OUT WITH GOJO SATORU. X GN READER.

Ft: Teasing, grinding.

1.1k words of gojo thirsting for u.

Gojo x Female reader smut

WARNING: NSFW CONTENT.

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

At first gojo would ask you to come along just so you can watch him dead lift 200+lbs(pounds) or even be his "spotter" so he 'wouldnt get hurt', the spotter part was your idea. But just the thought of watching gojo sweat and breathe heavy gave you butterflies in your stomach. If you two would go to a public gym gojo would 100% FLEX HIS ASS OFF. Lift 200lbs? Nah gojo's going to 400lb. It doesnt matter if these other 'people' look more 'ripped' then him. He'll show them up without a problem. "Yeah you like that baby?" He'd grunt mid lift. "F-fuck..Its all for you love~" You'd scold him for pushing himself too hard but he'd suck his teeth, pick you up without warning and carry you bridal style out the gym. Laughing as you'd punch at him to put you down because it was 'embarrassing'

Gojo who would also send you pictures and videos of him lifting. Captioning how he can't wait to show you his progress. Up close. He'd sometimes even wear more revealing. Clothes during missions you two got paired up in. Turning off his infinity just so the wind can blow through his shirt and reveal his abs. Only for Utahime and Nobara to scold him.

If he's deadlifting sometimes gojo would joke around and act like the weight was too heavy for him or he got gradually tired, it could even be considered as a test of trust the first couple of times he invites you over. He'd smile and blush at how you tried so hard to hold it up for him after he made 'pained grunts.' even using cursed energy slightly because it was too heavy for you. (Gojo was completely fine holding up that much btw). He'd yank the weight off of him. trying to 'catch his breath' only to see you running around the gym that you've never been too before, asking people where you can buy water and cold towels for him. And that was another moment when gojo truly fell in love with you

One day Gojo finds you in the gym before he is. Wearing clothes lighter/thinner then your average attire as you sat on your phone waiting for him to arrive. "Hm? I see you got here before me baby~" He'd walk up to you with his gym bag. Wearing a black tank top, shorts and his iconic shades. Gojo is so tall~ (around 6'3) so even when his body isnt flexed out he towers over you so easily. "Well..I was thinking of joining you this time toru~" you smirk while looking him up and down, watching as he takes off his shades and his beautiful blue eyes glow, Now looking at you with an intimate gaze.

Gojo didnt have a problem with whatever you we're trying to achieve at the gym for any reason. Be it for your mental health, For him, Or just for the sake of being fit or trying something new. He loved the idea of you even doing something as far as exercise because it meant you we're getting stronger. Just.. 'Not as strong as him' he'd chuckle to himself while watching you do warm ups...Specifically squats.

He'd count out how much your doing, constantly telling you to push yourself and keep going 'just f' me' Until eventually it looks like gojo is enjoying himself a little TOO much. He's paying so much attention to your ass and how you'd recklessly bounce up and down from how tired you we're getting. Imagining how you'd bounce on his cock while pleading for him to let you cum "T-toru! oh fuck toru~ please..im so close daddy.." "Hah..Your so fucking good for me, Milking my cock just like that.. Dont stop.." Gojo gets caught out of his hard daze when you stop exercising and just stare at him with your hands on your hips because he somehow went from the number 14 to 69- while counting.

Gojo would pout and tug at your arm for you to keep exercising because you look so fucking hot. "Cmon baby..I promise i wont look...so much.. kay? You just..Do what your doing over there and ill be over here lifting-" he'd smile and give you a thumbs up while scooting over to the weights. "okay toru~ if you say so..." You'd constantly stop mid set to take a peek behind you to see if gojo was being a pervert, But everytime you would he'd just look 'normal'. When in reality gojo was talking glances at you, lifting with one hand and rubbing against his clothed length with the other. Mumbling how good you looked for him, How your sweat coated your body so well, watching as you perked up your lips when taking a sip of your water. "Yeah baby..thats what im talkin about' Dont stop.. your doin so well... fuck yeah..sweat for me~" You'd look at him dumfounded and ask if he was alright. "Yeah baby im great~ you keep exercising for me alright? get that heart healthy f' me~ you and that good form of yours. So fucking good" He'd take off his shirt, his chest glistening and pumping out through his sweaty body. You'd choke on your water while examining his body. "heh..Like what you see baby? Didnt get these over night~" he'd place the weight down and begin walking towards you, Flicking his hands through his hair. "How about I give you a treat baby? You've been so good f' me, working so fucking hard~ how about i help you out.."

You would shyly look away, calling gojo distracting because you we're trying to 'focus' but he loved that even more~ how dedicated you we're..how persisent you we're..All for him. He'd pull you into a sloppy kiss, picking you up and sitting on the bench. Your hands would begin to trail along his chest, Feeling his hot body against your own. "You can touch this body all you want baby~ its all yours." he pulled away from the kiss, trailing his mouth along the side of your neck, sending you chills down your body. "T-toru..we shouldnt do it here..What if someone comes in and see's.." You'd tug at his sweaty warm body. "mmm good then baby, let them see. Want everyone to be fucking jealous. So dam lucky to have you in my life, love you so dam much~" Gojo began to bite at your shoulder, tugging at your top. "shit..Wanna take you on right fucking now y/n. Cmon~ let daddy touch you, let me reward you~"

Your shivered at how touch gojo began to get, Not even trying to hide it anymore as he shifted his hands down to your waist, Moving your body over so you'd grind right against him. "T-toru...Toru.." youd moan out his name. holding onto his built arms while the intense heat of the gym ambushed your body as you could feel gojo's pent up length now grinding on your. "fuck...Yes baby?" "T-touch me..please..i want it~" "oh yeah baby~ know' you wanted more. Addicted to this cock yeah? say how much you want it~" he laid his head back against the bench, slapping your ass while you grinded against his length. "G-Gojo~ please...oh shit..please~ I cant, I wanna cum~ I wanna cum for you gojo~ I want you so bad daddy~" "Fuck yeah..thats what i wanted to hear baby~ beg for me more like a slut while daddy rewards you~"

[notgonnaedit]

20 questions for fic writers!

was originally tagged by @royallykt thanks!

Since im not on Ao3, I will be changing those questions to Wattpad

How many works do you have on Ao3 [Wattpad]?

Fourteen. Nine Ninjago, Three Star Wars, One Linked Universe, and an Art Book

2. What's your total Ao3 [Wattpad] word count?

Honestly? Too many to count. I have a single chapter that's over 11k words

3. What fandoms do you write for? 

Ninjago, The Legend of Zelda, and Star Wars. Right now I'm in a huge Bad Batch phase so it's the only thing I've been writing for lately

4. What are your top five fics by kudos [votes]?

1/The Mandalorian (OC insert)

2/November Rain (Ninjago Movie reader insert)

3/Healer's Hands (Bad Batch OC insert)

4/The Bad Batch: Healer's Heart (OC insert)

5/My Art (Art Book)

5. Do you respond to comments?

Absolutely, yes! Reading comments makes my day! (It's also half my motivation)

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Hmm, that's a tough one. I don't usually write angsty endings, so I'll probably have to go with Possession: Charlie's Story

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

WasProbably Healer's Hands. Most my fics have happy endings, but considering what happened through out it, it has the happiest ending

8. Do you get hate on fics?

No. So far the only thing was people perferring a different color than the one i chose

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I don't read or write smut. If there's a smutty part in a book I really enjoy then I'll just skip over it.

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

I don't write crossovers. I personally don't like them, even if it's an X-Men/Avengers crossover, and those are in the same universe!

11. Which fic are you proud of but wish had gotten a bigger response from your readers?

My entire Ninjago series. It's gotten a few votes, but no one really comments

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Not that I'm aware of

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

I've bounced some ideas off of fellow writers, but nothing official

14. What's your all-time favorite ship?

Oof this is a tough one. I really love Tech and Phee, but then there's also Pixal and Zane, Jay and Nya, and a few others. Right now, I'd probably say it's Gambit and Rogue in X-Men '97. It's so heartbreaking and sad but it's so good.

15. What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Probably Healer's Family–Modern AU. It's definitely something I want to write, but probably not until I finish my OG series

16. What are your writing strengths?

Writing how a character feels and how it changes the world around them. I also enjoy multiple povs.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Ending sentences. I dont care if its switching to another pov, ending a chapter, or ending a book. I hate that last sentence almost every time

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

The only other language I've written in is little snippets of Mando'a here and there, so as long as there's a translation I don't mind

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Ninjago, but I've been making OCs and AUs since before I knew what those are. I was very little. For TMNT 2012 especially

20. Favorite fic you've written?

Healer's Hands. It's the first one I've written with an OG backstory and a completely orginal plot with canon characters. I'm very proud of it and it has my favorite OC

tagging; @the-ninjago-historian @bibliophilesince2003 @hugmekenobi @awkward-tension-art

[popcornforone]

Possibilities

A Reed Richards / Mr Fantastic Fan Fic

Too soon… nah…

The announcement of our man in the Fantastic Four has had my head preoccupied since Wednesday & then someone said oooh imagine the Fics… so behold. I’ve given it an early go. Next year obviously we will know a lot more.

Synopsis:- Reed is watching you watch the news about an accident in space, but you have no idea how this is about to effect your life.

Word count:-2500

Warnings:- DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE UNDER 18! PIV sex, squirting, breath play, choking, nipple play, safe words, rough passionate sex, swearing. Super hero drama about violence & end of the world. Innuendo & talk about growning man hood, & other sex items due to super powers.

Well yes I know I’ve jumped the gun but I hope you all enjoy this. All feed back is welcome. Thanks for the read peoples.

“& I for one believe that the world can now be a safer better place” Marcus Moreno leader of The Heroics states on tv. It’s always good to check up on the news, but after a couple of weird anomalies in the world recently, & everyone being on edge, it’s daily viewing. It’s always nice to see the dashingly handsome Marcus on Tv too, talking about how he & his heroics saved the world. He’s a reluctant super hero, but that’s why he is the best in the world. You also have a massive crush on him. Whenever he’s on TV your boyfriend rolls his eyes. He can’t see the similarities between himself & Marcus. You definitely have a type.

One of the reasons you’re watching so much news & Marcus at the moment is that your scientist boyfriend is on a retreat, for work. It’s in the middle of nowhere, so no phone signal, no way of getting in touch & you also dont know when he’s gonna be back. It makes the nights a little lonely, you only been living together from 2months ago. He was a bit worried about being a little bit older than you, & wanted to do things properly but you were smitten the day you met him, when you were doing a health & safety inspection of his building. You kept finding reasons to go back & do something, before you eventually brought him a coffee one morning. The rest as they say is history as he smouldered at you & made sure ‘the lift broke’ so you could throughly assess each other. No one had kissed you like that in a long time. Large hands & long fingers traced over you as your lips attached. You only mumbled his name as passion took over, it was barely audible, but he likes the way you said it.

“Reed”

“& what about that big space explosion?” A reporter asks Marcus on the news “should we be concerned with that?”

“No of course not, no one was on board, there was just a flare that cracked some solar panels it’s fine” you sit listening intently to the news on the sofa. You haven’t notice your boyfriend has crept into your house as you watch the news. He stands behind you trying to work out how he’s going to tell you something. Maybe it’s best just to get it done straight away.

You feel a tap on your shoulders & shiver & then jolt around. Reed is standing a few meters away in the kitchen door way. Did he throw something at you or dash back? Nah he couldn’t have moved that quick.

“REED” you screech & bounce over the sofa & straight into his long muscular safe arms. He hugs you with all his might, he’s missed you too.

“Ooh baby, I missed you” he says as you lift your head & go to kiss him, but he puts his index finger up to stop you.

“Reed? what is it baby?” Reed never refuses your kiss, never.

“I need to tell you something, but you need to swear on Dora’s life not to tell anyone” Reed knows how much you love your cat Dora.

“I promise on all our lives” he gulps & wraps his arm around you but it just keeps wrapping, looping around your body. “Reed?”

“So…” he’s trembling as the arm reels its way back in & it strokes your face & your eyes almost pop out of their sockets. “…our retreat wasn’t in a country house”.

Reed sits on the sofa & tells you he is a scientist for the heroics & he & his 4 friends were asked to go to the out post in space to check the flare data a week ago, & then the flare explosion happened & that he & 3 of the others who went to work on it now have super natural powers. He’s constantly stroking your leg & hand, trying to keep you calm as you ask questions of him.

“So…” he says after a long chat”… the heroics have asked if me & the other guys can be checked to make sure we are all okay & need to be under surveillance for a few weeks or months, until we can check this is permanent & that we dont get sick from it” you nod. “So your ‘handsome Marcus on tv’ would like to know, if you’d like to come & live on the heroic campus with me or if you are happy to have some people here to monitor us, because I said my one condition to doing this was that you had to be with me. A week in quarantine already was too hard without you” you blush as you look at Reed. He could die from whatever has given him super powers & yet the only thing important in his world is you.

“Baby really?”

“Yes really, if this isn’t permanent & it might kill me, I want to spend all of my waking hours with you, I missed you & I love you too much to not have you around, be it a day week month or longer.” He sees one tear drop from your eye. His thumb then grows from where it is on your lap & goes up to your face & wipes it’s clear & you look a little shocked & he can see that.”I dont have to use my powers when it’s just us but I am still getting used to them at the moment.”

“Does it all stretch?” You ask.

“Yea every part of me I’m not sure how far I can go but I know what I’ve learnt so far is impressive”

“Oooh lots of possibilities then”

“Yes lots”

“Do you want to be a superhero?”

“I honestly dont know, I was happy being Reed Richards, a scientist who does all the research & gets little credit”

“Well the world are fools for not recognising your full potential” you reply.

“So you’re not gonna run away? Dump me on the spot? That’s what happened to Ben when he went home yesterday”

“Seriously?” You are In shock “I always knew she wasn’t the best girlfriend but Damn. you guys all need support” this makes Reed chuckle. His palm lifts from your leg & moves to cup your face. “I’ll do whatever you want to Reed, I just have a favour to ask”

“Anything my sweet pea”

“Kiss me”

Reed wastes no time with that request. You’ve wanted your boyfriend to kiss you from the moment you saw him, before he dumped all of this news on you. The way his thumb brushes against your lips has you sighing already. He leans in normally & you both close your eyes as your lips touch. You knew you’d missed his kisses but this one makes you realise just how much. So plump, so rounded. It doesn’t take you long to turn something so soft into something heated & passionate. His tongue dancing with yours as you grab his shoulder. You go to bite his bottom lip but then a weird thing happens. He melts, not metaphorically but literally. It’s like he’s been turned to jelly as his body all goes floppy for a bit.

“Reed!”

“Ahhh” he jolts & forms back into him. “Clearly my body was so relaxed that it actually did”

“You litrally melted”

“Well it proves I’ve been right for the last 14 months when I say you can melt even the Iciest of heart” he then returns to making out with you. You’re careful with your touch being soft. This makes him chuckle.

“Don’t worry I don’t think you can break me like that.” You then hear the door lock & realise while one of Reeds hands is holding you, he’s locking up the house with the other. He’s now a very resourceful man. You slowly pull away from him.

“So you stretch”

“Yes I do” he smirks.

“All of you”

“Yes”

“No I mean all… of .. you?” My hand rubs his thigh above his jeans.

“Well why don’t we check?”

“Not that you needed it any bigger, what you have satisfies me enough”

“But baby”

“Reed I dont need a 8ft penis, I just need one that makes me moan”

“I love it when you moan* his pinky stretches & tucks your hair behind your ear. It’s weird but also wonderful watching this all happen. He then shrinks & pulls you in so you’re tight against him, almost crushing you against his chest.

“Reed” you gasp for air & he loosens a little.

“Sorry still getting used to it” he checks to make sure you’re not hurt before his arms slide underneath you as he stands. Almost cocooning you so you’re nice & secure as he carries you up stairs. You still wrap your arms around his neck because you like it. He can see you giggling a little.

“I don’t think you’ve ever carried me to bed”

“Well I’m much more flexible & stronger now” he says as he pushes open the door & unravels his arms around you on the bed. You both start to undress knowing where this will go. Reed pauses when you get to your underwear. His jaw drops. He’s seen you countless times before, but maybe the event in space & his new found purpose have made him realise he misses the sight of you.

“Oooh the possibilities I could have with you” he whispers as he straddles you as you undo your bra. His erection growing in his briefs.

“Really baby” you wriggle up the bed a bit & your hands & his free you of your knickers.

“Ooh yes beautiful you have no idea” he whispers this in your ear & then you feel the tip of his tongue at the base of your neck working it’s way up, he’s not moved his head an inch. You tremble & palm his erection. Your hips already moving ready to take him.

“Baby let me see”

The briefs are removed. There it is, his meaty girthy large erection. Throbbing angry & in desperate need to be satisfied.

“No tricks today gorgeous, we can do that another night, I just want to hear you moan my name, I’ve missed your body.” His words arouse you even more as he grips his length, covering it in your slick.

“Reed I…” your voice catches. He promised you no penis showing off but it doesn’t mean the rest of him isn’t as his hand that is around your waist, the thumb of it is attending your clit. You squirm. “Ooh fuck”

“God you are a feral little girl today” he says, inching his way in. Filling you up. Stinging. But feeling so good & so large.

“Reed….’mmm fuck yea”

“Fuck baby” he groans as he starts to move, he licks his fingers so they can be moist as he plays & twists with your nipples. A larger hand means both can be taken care of, while he still hold you in place, & attends to your clit. The pillow your head is next to, you grip, the spot being hit, your walls fluttering at each drag. He was always the best sex you’d had but now, with these extra gifts, each night is going to have you seeing stars. Your mind empty’s as quick as your heart rate peaks. Your own pelvic movement circling around his thrusts as he pushes you deeper into the bed.

“God I love you, god I love your cunt, so good”

“Reed oooh fuck”

“Yea baby you like that…hmm” sweat pours from his head. The few silver flicks in his hair are glistening the most. He lets your boobs go & his extra large hand grasps at you neck.

“You know the drill…”

“Green” you say as his hand gets smaller to normal size. He likes breath control durring intercorse but now he can shrink his hand, he’s going to like it even more. He’s also got more stamina with these new abilities. Each thrust almost has you at a high but it’s the slow pull back that stops you, has you begging for more. Your voice catches in your throat, his hand is now half its normal size.

“Yellow” you whimper, meaning that’s the max he can go to. Then it all picks up.

“You want this baby, you gonna cum, you gonna take this kind of pleasure each morning afternoon & night, you gonna squirt for me?”Reed has never moved so fast in his life. Thrust after thrust, punishing your core but it feels so good, almost like he was born to have this power.

“Reed” you gasp

“Let go baby, let fucking go let, milk me”

That’s all it takes.

“Fuckkkk” you moan as your orgasm hits, drenching his cock as you clamp hard, the matress beneath you feels damp as well. You’ve defiantly squirted.

“Oooh god, fuck fuck fuck yes yes oh fuck” Reed squeezes your neck a little bit more as you see stars & are in a haze & as he lets go, you feel his seed spill inside you. Painting your insides as he stays for a few seconds at the deepest he can inside you. Your special spot, is being pulsed against meaning your own climax continues.

“Fucking hell” you pant now your voice is free, gasping for air that you didn’t know you were missing, both your heart rates racing. Your collective moevements slowing down coming to an eventual stop & him slowly removing his cock from your pussy. It’s glistening much like the wet patch beneath you. He looks at the state of you both & smirks.

“Well that’s not been affected, you still make me cum” you giggle as he walks to the bathroom to get a cloth to clean you both with.

“& I didn’t even make my penis any bigger” he says as he wipes you up. Always so caring, being a super hero is still going to mean he’s sweet & polite by the looks of it.

“Not that you need to Reed” you sigh as he then lies next to you on the bed. One hand holding your face as he kisses you softly. Those sweet little kisses that say so much more than I love you. The other hand is washing the cloth in the bathroom, that’s how stretchy it can go. He sees you notice this & smirks.

“Well beautiful…” he says as that hand returns & it grabs his semi hard penis. “Shall we see…” you raise an eyebrow.

“Oooh all the possibilities Reed…” & you watch as he sees just how erect he can go without it becoming ridiculous.

[torchstelechos]

i realize how nothingish this question is regards to like answerability but like how do you get.... ideas...? or. i dont really ever have any kind of bigger things i want to draw its always like small stuff.... or... idk.... i want to make things that are like.. more... i want to make stuff that like... means something makes you think something... most of my stuff is just tiny little things with nothing behind it just something to get it down but i like want to make things that are interesting to look at.... idk..... okay wait ill share a self portrait i did.

^ im really hapoy with this stuff theres color theres studf going on! an eclipse! right like its. its neat theres things theres associations being made theres questions theres something there this is the only thing ive made where i actually feel like ive expressed something that was in me and i just dont know how to do that again i want to make more things like that i want to get more out of my art than just putting stuff down thatll be forgotten the second its down i want what i make to be meaningful to me and idk how... uhhhh anyway thanks for reading thisif you do i just needed to get thoughts out or smth frustrated with this. doing this for six years and its just. ive managed like a handful of things id want to show people everything else is just things made because i just have to do this urghhh sorry about all this

Howdy! I had to take a bit to think of an answer for this question. I didn’t want to fall back on the statement everyone gets when they ask about art (practice), especially since you specified ideas rather than art appearance/style. So! Lets get into that! (gonna be kind of long oops)

First I want to say that I enjoy your self portrait, its very colourful and I LOVE colour. The choices in colour also complement each other very well, as yellow, orange, and blues go well together. Not only that, but the saturation of each colour help bounce off each other and bring it all together. Now, I assume the materials are a blue pen, and crayons? It might be markers, but the way the orange moves across the yellow makes me think of crayons. I adore it! I love crayons and haven’t been able to use them in a while, so it’s nice to see them being used. 

Now, your question, I feel needs some context from my side of things before I can properly answer it. I have been doing art for about 15 years now, and I have done multiple mediums including painting (water colour, oil, and acrylic), drawing (crayons, pens, markers, pencils, etc.), fiber arts (knitting, sewing, crocheting), baking/cooking (i think the presentation counts and how its a medium that takes combing lots of things to make a singular outcome), and a few I wont share right now. I’ve had official art classes that made me do things very specifically, one that taught me art history and how different genres of art were introduced, another on creativity and how to help flourish ideas, and some others on how to use different mediums and styles. I also watch speedpaints, animatics, and animation progress videos to learn some quick shortcuts in digital art since I was never taught officially on digital art. Including all of these, I also have done LOTS of practice in art. Having said this, lets get into some of my own thought processes. 

When I make art, the first things I tend to ask myself is “what do I want” and “what do I think would be interesting”? These aren't mutually exclusive, but they can be answered very differently depending on how I want to do something. For the Siffrin during the Mal du Pays fight piece, I actually started it by seeing a cat picture and thinking, “I want a discord reaction with Siffrin face down on the floor” which went into drawing Siffrin as the cat and then asking myself, “Wait, why is Siffrin face down?” which went into Oh! It’d be funny if it was Mal du Pays! So, doing that I decided to make it in the king's room which meant I had to draw a background. Eventually that transformed into “Okay but it doesnt look right, why?” the answer was that it didnt look like the game so I had to add some texture details and ta-da! Siffrin face down! 

But this also comes from years of practice in knowing what I want and knowing how to draw it, some of my art pieces were, “I think it would be cool if I drew a character looking down at me in front of a skyscraper” but um,, I didnt know how to draw that ;-; so I had to just let my hands kind of try and finish the piece even if I didnt like it. At that point, I realized I needed to practice the character and my style more until I COULD draw what I wanted. Which led into my drawing, a LOT of things I couldn’t and didnt like. 

As for symbolism in art, and how I got ideas for it, a lot of it comes down to knowing the character and how you want to translate your thoughts of the character into art. One of the ways I started doing this was adding flowers to the characters art, or learning what flower I considered “theirs” that way I could add hints to  it in the drawings. Some of it also came from animals, others came from art genres and their historical significance, and some come down to theories (such as colour theory in art). 

Finally, it really does come down to practice. As much as I hate to say it, a lot of the art pieces I do and share tend to lean towards “practice” or concept doodles so that I can better understand HOW I want to add it to a bigger piece. Most of my Siffrin and Loop drawings tend more to that as I need to better understand how their shapes and lines communicate to an art piece (Loop being a fucking star gets me so much) before i can add symbolism and make a bigger art piece. Even then, sometimes it doesnt work and the bigger art piece needs to be put to a back burner before i can communicate my thoughts on the characters as I wish to. 

(Here’s also a neat little trick I do, write out what you want to draw and then draw thumbnails so you can figure out the composition of the piece you want. It helps you know where something goes and how you want it to appear without keeping it in our brain for a long period of time. Some of the things I share are concept doodles but I’ve shared pictures of me doing this before! It can be annoying but trust me, it helps when you can’t figure out the draft at all.) 

Also, heres some of my REAL old art for reference when I say I’ve practiced a lot and didn’t always know how to do big art pieces ;;;;

Hope that helped answer some of my thought process on ideas and how that translates to art? I could go into more detail if you need me to discuss something further

[melissa-titanium]

its late but im thinking about oc romance in like. a logical way. its easier for me to comprehend it when its not written out poetically LOL

ive always bounced back and forth between how mels. well. romance behaviors are. but also i think its important for me to take into context the parallel potential for him & draco.

draco has only been in one relationship (magmivit doesnt count, it never surpassed the puppy love phase before. well. yk LOL... or you dont i guess. uhh.) but it was like. it actually would have worked & was a genuine good thing for both of them until. mel ruined it because that fuckhead ruins everything

but my idea for mel always switches sides drastically. options being a) he has no interest in romance at all. he fully believes anyone trying to tie them to him/get 'too close' to him is trying to get something out of him because of his overall negative view of the world & other people. b) many, many superficial relationships; purely acting as an ego boost for him. he's literally a prince & canonically handsome as hell & very socially intelligent its not hard for him to get someone to like him. the most rugged butch you have ever met literally how could anyone say no. i sound insane okay moving on

anyway. draco and mel are like, exact opposites of one another. which is exactly what ties them together. and since this aspect of their stories is like, a big part of the plot. i think its kind of important for me to think about i guess.

draco is emotionally very intelligent. highly empathetic, not exactly able to comprehend complex social interactions but very willing to state her opinion when need be. her social ineptness can often lead her to hurting other people unintentionally.

mel is socially very intelligent. practically nonexistent empathy (not a bad thing. mel isn't bad, none of my characters are fundamentally bad, mel just happens to be low empathy) but 100% knows the best path through a conversation, mostly through intensive playing of a role/acting. but this ALSO leaves him with no knowledge of how to deal with emotions, those being others or his own. this pushes him down a self destructive path which he doesn't even consider trying to reverse until far, far into his afterlife. his stubbornness was his downfall, but he's not immovable.

[devondespresso]

20 Questions for Fic Writers

tagged by @museumgiftshoperaser

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

technically 2, but its a sfw and nsfw version of the same fic fhajklfjdalfjk

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

...6,357. i promise i write.

3. What fandoms do you write for?

just stranger things so far, but i have seriously thought about writing about Fender's gender from Robots (2005) and I promised my friend a Shark Tale fic for their birthday fjalhfdjkalfdj

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Never Again

Never Again (sfw)

fascinating statistics arent they

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

never gotten comments on ao3, i do reply to what i get on tumblr tho because it literally makes my day

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

(including my unposted work) Never Again, tho i think its more bittersweet than unrelenting angst

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

tho its technically not finished, We'll Be Alright (Steve Henderson AU) has a very happy ending

8. Do you get hate on fics?

no, thank god

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

im gonna say no? despite writing something spicy at the beginning of Never Again it was not a good time (for me or Nancy)

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

haven't yet, and while i wont write them off entirely itd have to have really strong potential for me to want to do it

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

nope

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

no

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

no, and i dont know how well id go. on the one hand im usually good at group stuff but im also an annoying perfectionist with my writing

14. What’s your all time favorite ship?

platonically stobin 100%. i dont get nearly as attatched to the romantic ones so i kinda just bounce around the fandom. Really love a lot of the steve harrington rairpairs floating around, plus robin and vickie

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

I dont realllly have a writing wip i know i wont finish cause i've just been posting those vague ideas instead of actually writing them becuase i know i wont. My only active wip is the steve henderson au and im hoping praying to god that i dont suddenly loose passion for it

16. What are your writing strengths?

dialogue probably, coming up with how different characters are saying things, what theyre saying, what they mean, all the little differences in their voices, I love it. that and having characters interact with the environment

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

overthinking and underthinking, stopping myself from making something happen or a character do something because theres this pull in my chest telling me its wrong. even just standard selfishness or saying something without the express intent of making sure it wont hurt someones feelings. i also start sentences with verbs djaldjdjaf

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

makes sense if characters are speaking multiple languages i guess. depends on pov and how limited it is to the pov character. like if the pov character doesnt speak spanish it'd be better to write "and they said something in spanish they didnt understand" instead of writing the spanish out assuming the audience doesnt know it either

19. First fandom you wrote for?

stranger things

20. Favorite fic you’ve written?

definitely my steve henderson au. i wish it was shared already but at the same time i've editied and changed so much im glad i havnt officially yet. its helped me work through a lot and has even caused noticable improvement in my relationship with my family even if they dont know it exists. i cant promise itll be fully posted soon, but i am so exited for when i do

tagging @stobinesque @marvel-ous-m @eriquin @itsthestrangestthings @findafight @fag4dykestobin (no pressure ofc 💕)

[brad-bakshi-loves-bugs]

oh my gosh, did you just say you roleplay in your room?? dude (gender neutral)!! that’s so smart. and also really cute..:)

you talked about having ADHD. i’ve been having some trouble lately and i was wondering what it looks like for you? just to get an idea wether i might need to check it out or not.

thank you, i think...? this is the strangest ask ive ever received but i think being called cute is a compliment LMAO so ty

so like. adhd looks different in everyone it affects, and i always recommend reaching out to a psychiatrist or even just your physician if you suspect you might have some Fucky Stuff going on with your brain! i was diagnosed with adhd when i was 10 which is pretty telling for how severe mine is because they dont usually diagnose afab kids that young LMAO but again. everyone is different!

HOWEVER i will start this off by saying that i also have severe bipolar 1, which has a lot of overlapping symptoms with adhd. im not a psychiatrist, a psychologist, or a therapist (or any other -ist), and i couldnt tell you which of my Problems are adhd and which are bipolar. so here's your disclaimer to please not use me as the deciding factor for whether or not you have adhd! my adhd personally is life-altering and essentially ruined my childhood for various reasons, and it's still something i struggle with daily. not every case is so severe (most aren't, in fact), so take everything i say with a grain of salt!

but here's a list of things i attribute to my adhd, which is very far from a complete list, but it's what i can think of off the top of my head:

i HATE silence. whenever im doing anything i have to be playing music or listening to something or i cant focus at all, but it also cant be New Music or ill just get distracted and not be able to focus

on the flip side, i also cant fully concentrate if i have any sort of noise. so if im trying to have a serious conversation that requires my full attention, i have to turn off all music and essentially block my ears so that i can focus. no i dont know why but its SO FUCKING ANNOYING

i alternate between skipping every song halfway through because i get bored quicker than a song can finish or listening to the same song for 6 hours on loop and still wanting to listen to more of it. seriously, i listened to rockstar sea shanty by nickelback almost 400 times this year alone, and i only just discovered it in august

when i hyperfixate, i cannot do ANYTHING else or i get massively depressed and lose all motivation. i ended up in a psych ward back in october because the thought of doing my (easy and otherwise enjoyable) job made me self-harm because i was hyperfocused on watching a specific show and i couldnt do ANYTHING else. im a terrible employee

time management? not here! im late to EVERY SINGLE THING. i had an interview yesterday and i was late by 15 minutes. when i was working at petsmart, i can count on both hands the number of times i showed up to work on time in an ENTIRE YEAR. i have no idea why im like this and i hate it

i pace. a LOT. like, i spend several hours a day pacing. i literally just walk around my kitchen and living room and bedroom aimlessly. im like an npc, but instead of giving you helpful tips i just give you really shitty one liners and puns until you beat me to death

if im not pacing, im doing SOMETHING. whether im biting my nails, popping my knuckles, bouncing my leg, bobbing my head, anything. its physically impossible for me to sit still. like right now, im sitting at my desk typing on my keyboard, but im also shaking my legs violently and bobbing my head to the music im currently playing (it's hicktown by jason aldean. yeah, i enjoy country music. im a redneck sorry)

i SUCK at multitasking. like, even just listening to something and writing. or listening to someone and watching tv. or listening to two things at once. okay, so im starting to think im just really bad at listening. but STILL. my mom can work and watch tv at the same time, but if i try to do that i just end up watching tv and i cant get anything done. i absolutely cannot concentrate if two things are happening at once

i cant watch movies. i literally spend more time rewinding and playing back whatever i missed while i was checking my phone than i do actually watching the movie. im the same way with tv shows unless im hyperfixated on them, but at least theyre shorter so i can take more breaks

again, this is not a complete list. nor does this mean that if you check all of these boxes then you also have adhd, or that if you dont check them then you dont. i cannot stress enough that adhd affects every person differently. thats why its such a bitch to diagnose, and why the symptoms overlap with so many other illnesses and disorders.

i do hope that some of this helped! i have no issues with talking about my own mental problems because im a very firm believer that they should be destigmatized and more often talked about publicly, but i try to limit how often i bring up my own issues unless someone directly asks about them because i know not everyone wants to hear about them and that's fine too!

[bigbluelemon]

ok so obviously no pressure but i've been meaning to ask all day: i want to start watching star trek (bc i need to get into classier sci-fi) but have absolutely no idea what to watch first...there are so many different versions man. i thought maybe since you like star trek i could ask you which series you like best so i could start there :P

!!!!! i am so excited i am bouncing up and down (though I dont know about classier scifi……it's mostly silly and hopeful, which is what I like about it, but i wouldn't necessarily call it classy lmao)

Oh there is going to be so much text im so sorry this is probably not what you were counting on lmao

Ok so short answer is: Strange New Worlds if you want a peek into what's happening in here, or whatever vibes with you from the old shows, but probably The Original Series (TOS) (starting from the roots) or The Next Generation (TNG) (still from the roots but a bit more energetic bc its the 80s now) are best

Most of it is on the same timeline, but independent enough that you are safe to start with +- any series you like the premise of i think. That said, I am a big admirer of Strange New Worlds, which imo is the best of both worlds (hehe) in terms of inheriting all the good trek stuff and also being a modern production. It's monster-of-the-week, it touches upon cool topics, and generally just a good show. You might need to look up a bit of context bc it has a small tie to Discovery and I don't remember if they explain it enough within the show (I think they do, but I was also watching them in order so I am biased) (I am also willing to admit that I might generally be nostalgia-baited here bc it is a prequel to The Original Series, aka the very first one with Spock and Kirk etc, but I still believe it's a good show and a good place to start to get a feel of what it's like)

Short answer she said. Oh well.

An even longer answer:

Wiki has a fabulous graph that I love with my whole heart, here it is:

You probably can't see shit here but here's the link where it's in good resolution: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Star_Trek#History_and_production

I watched trek in 2021, where i sat down and just got through all of the stuff that was out there in order of release start to finish in the span of something like 10 months? 11? i even had a spreadsheet to track my progress, and it was a bit of a mind-altering exercise (I remember emerging out of it like: where am i. what am i watching next. there is no trek left)

All of that is to say that The Original Series is an obvious place to start, but tbh I don't like it much. It is very fun and has a great cultural and historical significance etc, but for me it's way too slow-paced (small attention span girlie here) and, well. misogynistic. It's just very much a product of it's time I suppose. Though I do adore the original cast and my heart belongs to the og wacky alien designs

The Next Generation is better in terms of, well, speed: my brother once said that it resembles a radio spectacle, and he is not entirely wrong. The public seems to agree that the first season is a wash, but tbh I don't find it that objectionable (though i do seem to generally have All The Wrong Opinions, bc I like Enterprise which is apparently considered the worst series overall? Idk it has it's unfortunate moments but I disliked Voyager more) Generally, TNG is a good place to start I think if you want to go in a somewhat chronological order but The Original Series is too much: it's very similar in vibes but a lot more watchable I think.

The last option to start is Deep Space Nine, it's a bit of an add one bc I think they were trying to do something a bit new with it, and I have to say that it took me two seasons to warm up to the main cast (it's not necessarily bad, but I am used to opening up any trek and immediately having 10 new blorbos and that didn't happen there and I was Sad) BUT it is genuinely very good. It's a bit darker in places, has great themes, overarching plot arc, my favourite eugenics plotline, great cast. Basically it's a bit grittier trek for those who are tired of vanilla pink glasses trek. (it's not. actually gritty. it's pretty chill still) It's not a very obvious place to start, both in terms of it's less well-known, and, well, it's the 'one that's not like the others', which is a bit pointless when you don't have a feel of what the others are like, but I don't really know what your taste is and I think it's always better just to watch whatever part vibes with you most instead of aiming for some sort of completionism or whatever. Unless you want the popculture primer that is, then TOS or TNG are your boys

There is a lot of other stuff, but tbh I wouldn't rec it as a place to start for various reasons (Voyager I just plain don't like; Enterprise has a cool premise but it's about the very beginning of space exploration and is much less trek-y bc of it; most of the modern stuff is either not very good or relies heavily on old stuff, either in terms of being prequels/sequels/midquels or being genre deconstruction (like Lower Decks, which I think is great but it's a bit useless if you don't know what it's trying to deconstruct)

Sidenote about the new movies (2009-2016): I don't have anything bad to say about them, I think they were the first trek I ever watched, but they are also very much mid-tier blockbusters in a trek coat and not very trek-like. Are they enjoyable? absolutely. Will they give you a good idea of what trek is? Probably not. They're also the only ones on the alternative timeline, so they don't actually tie into anything before of after and thus aren't a great launching point.

[theshireisburning-so-mordoritis]

I have a kind of angsty request for a din x reader if ud like it?

What if the reader maybe a hunting partner or smth avoids looking at din bc they dont like seeing their reflection (insecurities yay!) in his armour but din thinks its bc they don't like him and then somehow he finds/works it out idk

Do with it what u fancy <3

Like I See You

Pairing: Din Djarin x Reader

Word Count: 3.8K

Warnings: Angst. Insecurities. Self-loathing. Reader spiralling. Reader's parents are arseholes. Protective Din. Soft ending.

A/N: This asks has been in my inbox for so long whilst I've figured how exactly I wanted to approach this and then whilst I re-wrote what I had about 20 times until I was finally satisfied. Shoutout to the wonderful @acourtofsnakes who read through when I wasn't sure I was doing a good job and had to put up with being sent alot of snippets along with the caption "does this make sense?" Ily my friend and I couldn't have done this without you.

It’s one of those days.

The days where your mind decides to be your worst enemy and spits insults like acid - firing up each and every insecurity you’ve ever felt in rapid succession like a never ending horror reel in your brain whilst you stare at the mirror.

And shutting your eyes doesn’t work. The image lingers - imprinted - distorted - your mind turning it to something monstrous to fit the words that blaze incriminatingly across your features.

It’s the type of day where you compare yourself to everyone that goes by even though you know you’re only feeding the parasitic thoughts behind your self loathing behaviour. But you can’t stop. You can’t snap yourself out of it with kind affirmations no matter how hard you try, mantras like I am enough - I’m perfect just the way I am - they sound weak in comparison to the other things ramming against your skull. False even.

You can’t even distract yourself with the job you’re supposed to be doing, you're that unfocused, and of course Din notices.

He noticed the moment your mood shifted, the moment your smile became a tiny, hollow thing and the wild spark of your eyes dulled. He noticed the moment your shoulders sagged as if struggling under some colossal weight and he could almost sense you shrinking into yourself, trying to make yourself appear smaller, unnoticeable to everyone including him, even as the two of you leaned side by side against the sticky bar of a run-down cantina waiting for an informant.

Din just doesn’t understand why.

You were born to burn, not fade to shadow. You burned right through him - his armour and his unimaginably high walls that he thought he would never lower for anyone until you came along and showed him it was okay to depend on another every once in a while.

Before he had loathed the idea of sharing his work with someone - his home - but then he had found you.

You, who had stunned him from the first time he warily approached you. With your sweet expression and mischievous smile - the way your eyes glittered as light bounced off the dagger that you flipped so effortlessly in your hand. You who had immediately launched into a vividly detailed plan of how you and him could slip into the bounty’s hideout and rip it apart from within from the moment he reluctantly had suggested he might need some help.

You had been glorious, destruction in your veins and blood streaked across your face - your neck - your bruised knuckles as you sunk a blade into one man's spine and twisted. Together, they had broke against the bounty’s muscle with the force of a tsunami and by the time there was no one left - no one except the cowering heap that you dropped at his feet with a warm, buttery smile - Din was fucking starstruck.

He’s remained that way ever since. His awe twisting - blooming - into something that takes his breath away even when he watches you do the most mundane things. Every move you make seems to hold a beauty to it - a whisper of power - something unique he can only ever link to you that makes his heart seize behind his ribs.

And he can’t understand why it feels like he’s now watching that flame that burns within you go out before his very own eyes. Why you’re trying to make yourself invisible and refuse to meet the dark gaze of his visor even though he knows you can sense his eyes on you.

'What’s wrong?” He prods quietly.

You sigh then, a flicker of something pained passing over your features before you can hide it. “Nothing. I’m fine.”

"You’re a terrible liar.”

"And you’re not usually this fucking nosy.” You snap, muscles tensing, still refusing to spare him even a single glance. “I said I’m fine, Mando. Drop it.”

His brow pinches in a frown, eyes narrowed to slits as he lets your sudden burst of anger crash against him. Tasting the defensiveness and frustration brushed through it. He knows this. He’s all too familiar with becoming aggravated when he doesn’t know how to get shit that’s bothering him off his chest, the way he would allow it to bleed out through rage or violence because trying to form it into words made him feel foolish.

It seems like you’re both similar in that way, maybe you don't need him trying to gently coax it out of you.

Maybe you need a fight to let it all come pouring out.

**

You’re furious by the time he’s dragged you into the tiny bathroom. Baring your teeth like a snarling beast as you yank your wrist from his tense grip.

The contact had thrown you. Your heart stopping before it broke out into a chaotic gallop that you could almost believe would be heard by the Mandalorian as he took an intimidating step closer.

The blank slate of his visor had bore into you and you had felt it so excruciatingly - the weight of his assessment, the crushing force of your own insecurities as he crowded you. Close enough that everything you considered a flaw was laid before his eyes in startling clarity and reflected back at you in the mirror sheen of his helmet.

It made your stomach churn, anxiety crawling through your chest, an icy hand that winds around your neck and grips tight until his sudden touch had shattered its hold.

"Come with me.” He’d growled.

And temporarily stunned, you’d gone. Stumbling to keep up as he all but dragged you away from the roaring noise of music and clashing conversations to a room so quiet you could hear your blood rushing in your ears as your surprise gave way to anger.

"What the fuck are you doing?” You hiss, ripping away from him as he slams the door closed behind him. “We’re supposed to be waiting for someone.”

You make to push past him and he doesn't budge an inch, crossing his arms over his broad chest as he looms over you. An immovable wall of solid beskar. “We’re not doing anything else for this job until you tell me what’s going on with you.��

You glare at him, fists clenched tight at your sides “I said it was nothing.”

"And like I said, you’re a fucking terrible liar.” He shoots back.

Why do you even care, you want to scream. There’s a fierce energy building inside you, the volatile kind - self-destructive - born from too many emotions spinning through your head. You try and focus on the steady drip of the faucet to will it down - counting specks of mould on the worn tiles - how many times the light can flicker in between each uncomfortable breath you take.

"It doesn’t matter.” You grit, attempting to assert some kind of authority of the situation. “All that matters is that we have a job to do and we’re wasting time.”

It doesn’t work.

"No. We’re out. I’m calling it.” He advances on you slowly, his tone creeping towards irritation at the stubbornness of your denial. “You’re too distracted, lost somewhere in your own head. You might not give a shit that it could get you killed but I do.”

Suddenly there’s a wave of tears building - burning behind your nose - those nasty little voices purring through your skull as you gape at him.

Useless.

Can’t even do the one thing he keeps you around for, your job.

Why would he ever look at you the way you wish he would when all you are is a constant hindrance to him.

And then you get defensive, that energy bursting hot and fast through your blood before you can slam it down.

"You don’t get to make that decision for me Mando.” You snarl, swatting away his outstretched hand that reaches for you when expression threatens to crumble. “Don’t! You don’t have to keep pretending you care, I know I’m dispensable, if I die you can get another partner anywhere.”

He reels back as if you’ve struck him. “You really think I’d do that?”

"Why not! It’s not like I’m special is it? There’s heaps of other hunters out there, one’s more skilled - more reliable - probably easier on the eyes too.” You laugh humourlessly, eyes stinging with salt as you begin to pace. Ignoring the gentle lilt of your name that he tries to offer as a grounding force, something to bring you back to him when you’re clearly beginning to spiral.

"Hell you could replace me right here and now if it’ll make your life easier.” You babble. “Just think of all the credits you can rake in, not having to put up with my shit anymore.”

Your breaths are starting to come quick and shallow and before you can say anything else Mando is immediately in front of you - his hands snatching at your shoulders before he drags you into a bone-crushing hug.

You struggle against it for a moment - a fighter down to the last possible second - and then you fall apart. Harsh, ugly sobs wracking your frame whilst his gloved hand smooths over your hair, his helmet pressed to your temple as he makes soft mouthed sounds to try and comfort you.

He waits until your cries quieten down, until the quake of your body lessens to a light shudder and then he tilts his head to look at you. “Look at me. Look at me - mesh’la - please.” He murmurs.

You shake your head. You don’t want to see how pathetic you look, can’t bear the thought of what will stare back at you in the reflection of his beskar.

"Please.” He repeats.

You bury your face closer into his cowl, croaking “I can’t.”

There’s a beat of silence - disrupted only by the rhythmic drip drip drip from the faucet. And then he’s sighing - a desperately sad sound that twists something vital in your chest until you're sure you’ll feel a snap.

"Can you tell me why?” He murmurs, hesitance bleeding through him as you stiffen in his arms and he swallows thickly. “It’s not just now is it, you haven’t been able to look at me in days and if it’s because of something I’ve done - if I’ve made you feel this way - then I need to know. I need to make it right, because I can’t lose you.”

Oh - oh no - he thinks it's his fault.

Your throat closes up and for a moment you feel like you could cry all over again. He carries a guilt that has never been his to bear and it wounds you in some way - that this man who has only known you for such a short time takes your happiness so personally that he would beg to right a wrong that he’s not even sure he himself had made.

He says that he can’t lose you like he refuses to entertain a scenario where you’re not by his side and you don’t even realise that you’re practically crushing him to you in another fierce embrace until you feel the gentle weight of his helmet resting against the crown of your head.

"It's not you Mando." You blurt, a soft flutter brushing through your chest when he squeezes you tight as his body sags with relief. But only seconds later he stiffens again and you know he’s heard it. The implication. It’s not you. There’s someone else.

You know he’s worked it out by the sudden change in how he holds you - the subtle shift from comforting to protective - his body all but curling around yours.

He growls. “Who.” And you shudder.

You need to explain and fast before he decides to storm out of the bathroom and track down everyone who’s come into contact with you in the past few days. This job you’ve been on had required a lot of stealth so as to not tip off your target and if you were going to pick up where you left off after everything then the last thing you needed was your Mandalorian going on a vengeful rampage.

He lets you untangle yourself from him reluctantly, follows like a shadow when you point to a spot on the floor and state lamely. “We should probably sit for this.”

**

You can feel his eyes on you as you slide down the wall, as you fold your legs only to stretch them out in front of you not even a moment later. He’s not stupid, you know that, you know Mando is wisely giving you the time you need - refraining from pushing whilst you try and get your head together under the guise of making yourself comfortable on the grimy floor.

When you’re as ready as you think you’ll ever be you take a deep breath to begin but suddenly find yourself hesitating.

Were you really going to tell him? Could you let every sad little truth pour from you when you've spent so long plugging it up, shoving it down. Building a damn in your mind and your heart to keep it from making a mess for those around you.

Hunters were meant to be strong - an undeniable, deadly force. They didn't do insecurities - self-doubt - weaknesses. At least that's what you'd always been told. It's the impression you got from every one you ever met, including Mando.

So how could you tell him that you were haunted by all of them. That every now and again they ripped into you and made you feel like your worth was less than nothing. How could you lay yourself emotionally bare like that and expect that he would still look at you the same after?

…Except hadn't you already? You had spiralled before his very eyes. You had screamed and cried and shattered to pieces and yet… there had been no judgement.

There had been nothing from him except comfort and patience. The press of his body against yours as he held you like you were infinitely precious - like he wished nothing more than to be a barrier against all these things he was clueless about except for the fact they were trying to hurt you.

"Did you know I always wanted to be a hunter?” You ask so suddenly that he jerks, surprised.

It makes you smile when he softly shakes his head , when he shifts from his relaxed position against the wall and tilts his body towards yours as you offer a rare glimpse into the life you had before him.

"I thought it sounded like the coolest job ever.” You recall. “Getting paid to chase down bad people and learning how to use a shit load of weapons? What more could I want? And it turned out I was good at it, better than a lot of other things I’d tried to force myself into growing up.”

He makes a soft noise of agreement - like he gets it - and your lips twitch. “When I returned home after a really long time of taking pretty much every job that came my way, I thought my parents would be proud. I thought they’d be happy I had made some kind of a life for myself and that I wasn’t struggling for money like they had worried I would when I decided to make my own way instead of relying on them.”

You close your eyes as the memory resurfaces. “They weren’t. My dad basically said I was no better than a vulture, feeding off other people’s misfortune, but my mum…”

Your voice cracks and you swallow hard, fingers picking at a still healing wound on your hand before a gloved one stops you. Silently lacing thick fingers through your own as you struggle not to sob.

“My mum told me I had ruined myself. My face and my body. I had forgotten how obsessed she could be with our family’s image and legacy until she told me that no one would want someone who was covered in scars or who’s nose or teeth weren’t perfectly straight because they’d been damaged too many times fighting with bounties."

He sucks in a breath and you can feel it. His rage.

It pours from him in waves as he visibly bristles beside you, drenching his voice when he rasps your name and you have to hurriedly continue. Shoving the rest of the story out of you because if you stop and let yourself wallow in the emotions clawing at the pair of you then you may never fully get the weight of it off your chest.

"I told her I didn’t care.” You spit. “That if my appearance bothered people that much then maybe they were the type of people I didn't want to be around. And it had been the truth, I fucking meant every word.”

"But then I started noticing the way some people would look at me, the way they’d be scrutinising my face or my hair or what I was wearing and I’d hear her voice in my head again.” You don’t realise you’ve trailed off, gone distant, until the soft pressure of Mando’s thumb drawing circles on your hand brings you back.

"I started wondering if they thought the same as her when they looked at me too and then it was like I couldn’t stop. Eventually it happened enough that when I was looking at myself, sometimes I started to think it too.”

His fingers tighten around yours, the soft, aching sigh of “Cyar’ika” slipping through the modulator wrapping around the pain in your chest.

You sniff and your voice comes out thin - watery. “There’s days where I still hear it and when I look in the mirror, or something reflective like your armour, it’s all I can see. But at least I’m still a good hunter right, I’ve got that left? Only, today I completely fucked that up too. So when I can’t look at you Mando, it’s not because you’ve done anything to hurt me or piss me off, it's because when I do, all I can see is how much I disgust myself.”

There’s silence between you as he digests everything. It stretches out and allows your thoughts to wander with it - undecided if what you feel after all that was said is relief or something else. It’s nice that you’ve been able to talk about something that has pained you for so long but now Mando has another piece of you that no one else does - the part of you that is most vulnerable - and you don’t really know what to do with that.

"They don’t deserve you.” He mutters suddenly, so quietly that you almost had to question if you’d simply been hearing things.

You frown. “Who?”

He has your hand in his lap now, cradling it in his larger one as he traces nervous patterns with the other. His voice is steady however, utterly serious. “Your parents, the people who give you those looks. Anyone who can look at you and not see how incredible you are.”

Your chest spasms and you look at him in surprise before your lips attempt to curve into a weak imitation of a smile.

"I appreciate you trying to make me feel better Mando but…”

"Don’t do that.” He chastises you gently. “Whatever voice is telling you right now that you aren’t worthy of being told what I’m about to say to you, I want you to tell it to shut the fuck up and listen to me.”

You snort and the way he tilts his helmet in your direction makes you pretty sure he’s currently got his eyes narrowed at you, an expression on his face that would probably say if you don’t listen, I’ll find a way to make you. You nod for him to continue.

"You are incredible.” He reiterates. “You chose to make something of yourself when you could have had an easy life and you fucking excelled at it. You’re one of the best hunters I’ve ever seen even on your off days and you’ve saved my ass more times than I’d like to count.”

You murmur a sly seven and quicker than you can react he pinches your thigh. A yelp bursts from your throat followed by a shaky laugh and it’s a quick reprieve from the way the pride in his voice was making your ribs constrict.

"You’re a genuinely good person, I’ve never seen you turn away a single person who’s come to you for help and you constantly go out of your way for people. Even those who probably don’t deserve it, like me.” He sees the way you open your mouth to argue and quickly holds up a hand to stop you, shrugging. “I was an asshole when we met, don't deny it.”

He had been. But you had sensed that there was something underneath it all. That there was more than met the eye when it came to this particular Mandalorian and you had been intrigued. And also right.

He shifts next to you and then there’s the brush of buttery-soft leather at your jaw. Hesitant fingertips tilting your face fully towards him as his helmet hovers just above your forehead and you gulp.

"Mando…” You whisper.

"Your mother called you ruined but that’s not what I see when I look at you.” He breathes and you tremble as he palms your cheek. “Every part of you is beautiful and there is nothing that black eyes, bruises, broken bones and scars can do to take that away. They only add to it. They prove that you’re a fucking warrior. That you’ve lived and fought and survived everything the galaxy has had to throw at you. How can your body be ruined when its remained strong and kept you alive despite the hell you’ve been through?”

Something breaks inside you - you’re crying and you don’t even realise it until Mando’s other hand leaves yours to gently swipe away the tears with both thumbs.

It’s the loveliest thing anyone has ever said to you and it seems to highlight the fucking number that those words from your mother have done on you - the fact that you have no idea how to take what Mando has said. How you're supposed to believe it.

But you want to.

You desperately want to believe it so you can drown out the poison in your head with it. Take all those pretty words and lock them safe in your heart for when you next need them.

And unsurprisingly, thanks to how adept you've become at reading the other, Mando instantly catches on to your internal struggle.

"You don't have to believe me right now." He tells you softly. "I know it won't magically make everything go away and you'll suddenly see yourself the way I see you."

He leans back and pulls you with him, tugging you into his chest - the cold kiss of beskar soothing beneath your tear-stained cheeks - as his arms wrap around your shoulders and waist. His chin notched at your crown and the venomous voice in your mind more quiet than it had been in days as you eased into his comfort.

"But one day you will and until that happens I'll gladly be there to remind you as many times as you need me to."

You choose to believe that, a hopeful smile tugging at your lips as you lift your head from its place buried in his neck, to place a soft kiss to the cheek of helmet and whisper. "Thank you Mando."

You choose to believe that you'll always have him by your side. That the ugly words staining your memories will fade eventually.

That one day you'll see yourself as the warrior you've always been.

And for now that's enough.

Main taglist: @autumnleaves1991-blog @ecuadorlady @readsalot73 @acourtofsnakes @justanotherblonde23 @tiffanyblew @alexmarie29 @simsiddy @dihra-vesa @gingerbreadandpaper @sleep-tight1 @prettylilhalforc @mstgsmy @wildmoonflower

Pedro Taglist: @outlawedmando

[tierneysodegaard]

Vodka and Lemonade - Martin Ødegaard x Reader

Martin Odegaard x female!Reader

Requested? Yes/No

Word Count: 2.5K

Warnings: Fluff, swearing, sexual tension

Anon: heyyyy!! so i have this idea/prompt for a martin ødegaard one shot. you and martin have been close for a while but both of you busy/had to focus on your personal life so didnt evolve into anything more than a friendship. arsenal just qualified for ucl and you’re celebrating with the team after the game. you go get some drinks while martin come with you and he asks if he can taste whatever you’re drinking, you hand him your cup expecting him to take it but instead he puts it aside and kisses you.

if its too specific you dont have to do it i understand!!!!!

—

You and Martin had been friends ever since he came to London on loan. You’d met him on your way to work, you were running late and weren’t paying much attention and nor was he. He was on his morning run, trying to change the song on his phone and you were checking the time to see how late you’d be when the two of you fell into one another. He accidentally poked you square in the eye which made your make up run, not a good look for work. He was so apologetic and asked for you to come back to his so he could make sure you were okay and so you could make yourself look presentable. The pair of you got on like a house on fire and decided to exchanging  numbers and since then you were inseparable. 

The only thing was it was harder to see one another towards the end of his season. He started playing more games and work wanted you to pick up more hours after a colleague of yours went off on maternity leave. He’d now been in London for well over a year now and you’d met his friends and he’d met yours and all of them agreed that the two of you had something. The way you looked at one another was a sight of lust and love, something that neither of you could fake but it seemed as if neither of you had caught on to one another's gazes. 

So you thought. 

Martin always knew he wanted you he just didn’t know how. He was always worried he’d gotten the wrong idea and what his friends were saying about you was just their imaginations. 

It was the last game of the season and Arsenal had one last chance to secure The Champions League. Martin had been given the Captains armband when Kieran Tierney suffered an injury and Laca stopped starting games. The armband just added more pressure to win and succeed. 

Martin had sent you a text asking if you’d be free to come to the last game and luckily for him, you were. As it was the last game Arsenal had already released their new kit which the boys were debuting, this gave you an idea. Walking in the shop you found the new kit and thankfully they had some with Martin’s surname on the back. Smiling to yourself at your idea, hoping he’d like it as you went to pay. 

Martin always waited in his box for you just so he knew you were there safe although you always went to games with your best friend so you were never alone. He was leaning against the wall, his leg bouncing as you kept checking his phone, still hoping you were still coming. Time had passed and he grew nervous, he worried something had happened but that worry faded when he saw you approach him. 

“I was beginning to think that you weren’t coming.” He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a longing hug. 

“Just had to pick up a shirt.” You mumbled into his chest before pulling back. “And I had to get my favourite player on the back.” You winked as he laced his hand with yours, lifting it so he could twirl you around to see the back of the shirt. Sure enough his name and number came into view as his eyes settled on your back. 

“Fuck…” He mumbled under his breath at the sight before him. Martin already thought you were the hottest woman in the world but now the sight of you proudly wearing his name made his mind run. He knew he shouldn’t have thought what he did but he couldn’t help himself. He imagined you in his shirt whilst he traced his fingers over your skin, having you underneath him all for himself. He imagined pulling the collar of the shirt down to reveal marks he wanted to leave all of your skin. 

“Martin?” He hadn’t realised that he had zoned out until you called out his name. 

“Hmm? Yes?”

“You okay?” You gave him a look.

“Yes! I’m just admiring the sight before me.” He winked as his eyes continued to trace your body. “You look good with my name on your back and in the colour red.”

“Oh yeah?” Your playful tone matched his. 

“Yeah you do pretty girl -”

“Martin!” A sudden voice grabbed yours and his attention. Martin had invited a few friends from Norway to come and watch the game and they had finally arrived. Much to his dismay he had to pardon himself and go to greet them whilst you and y/b/f went to get drinks. 

The blonde tried to slip away from his friends and speak to you before he had to change for the game but it was no use. Despite knowing how he felt about you they still continued to talk their mouths off so he couldn’t leave until he physically had to go as the game was due to take place soon. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t get to talk with you for long.” He caught your attention as he was about to leave. 

“It’s fine.” You smiled. “They don’t live in London, I do and I can see you whenever I want, they can’t.” You glanced over to them before meeting his gaze again. “Good luck Martin.” You took his hands into yours. “Lead them to a win.”

“I will.” He longed to feel your hands in his like this forever. He just wanted to hold your hand like that wherever he went. “The families and friends all come on the pitch at the end, will you come on with me at when the game is over?” He had a hopeful smile on his face as he waited for your response. 

“I’d love to.” You smiled back. 

The pair of you shared one last hug before he darted off to the pitch. Arsenal had won 4-1 and Martin had scored the last goal of the season. As he celebrated he looked up to his box, smiling your way as he raised his fist just before the final whistle blew. Everyone in the stadium were on the feet, clapping the boys as their friends and families made their way out and onto the pitch to celebrate with them. 

“Congratulations Captain Ødegaard.” You were the first to greet him as everyone made their way over. “You’re in the Champions league.”

“Couldn’t have done it without my good luck charm.” He gave you a hug before speaking again. “We’re going to the club after to celebrate, would you like to come with us? I want you there and all the guys would kill me if I didn’t bring you.”

You let out a small laugh at his words. “I’d love to, what time?”

“Does ten work for you?”

“It does.”

“Perfect.” His smile grew. “I’ll meet you outside.” 

“Lucky me.” You winked. “It suits you.” Your eyes trailed down to his bicep where the armband proudly stood. Your hands traced up his arm to tug on it slightly, showing him what you meant. “And the one you wear for Norway suits you too.” 

He loved the way your hands moved up his arm, his mind shouldn’t wander again but he couldn’t help himself. He just wanted to take in every inch of you and feel your arms clinging onto him as he kissed every part of you. 

“You think so?” He broke himself out of his thoughts, again. “Who knows maybe I’ll get it permanently for Arsenal.” 

“I’m sure you will.” 

“Maybe you should come to Norway and watch me play.” 

“You know -” You went to speak when you felt something well someone run into your leg. Looking down you saw Ben’s nephew looking up at you, a smile on his face. Bending down you took the boy in your arms. “Hello angel, did you enjoy the game?”

“Yeah!” He giggled as you smiled at him. The sight before Martin melted his heart. You’d met Ben’s nephew a few times when you came to games and the boy would always come and say hello no matter what. Martin loved the way you interacted with him, he’d spent countless hours trying to figure out how to ask you on a date without fucking up the friendship and he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t imagined what the future held if things went well between the two of you. He was too lost in the scene before him to catch on to the photographer taking a photo of the three of you. 

—

You took your time with getting ready and after Martin mentioned how nice you looked in red you decided to wear a red dress that showed off your body perfectly. Meanwhile Martin was lying on his sofa whilst his friends were already having pre drinks in his kitchen. His eyes were glued to his phone, looking at the photo of you, him and Ben’s nephew. Anyone who didn’t know you both would have thought the two of you were a little family. 

“Just ask her man.” One of his friends leaned over the sofa, handing him a drink. “You’ll only regret it if you don’t.”

“What if she doesn’t feel the same way?”

“How do you know if you don’t ask?” He raised his brows at his friend. “If you keep silent one day someone is going to come along and take her from you and for the rest of your days you’ll have to watch another man put his hands all over her knowing that it should have been you.” 

Martin huffed, setting his phone aside. “You have a point.”

“Do it tonight, have a drink for confidence and just ask her.”

Martin knew he was right. He couldn’t believe he could go out in front of millions and captain his team and country but not even ask out the girl he’d fallen for. He took his mates advice, taking a drink before they left for the club hoping it would give him the confidence he needed to ask you on a date. 

—

You and Martin were sitting alongside the rest of he Arsenal lads, even Mikel had turned up to celebrate their achievement. Ben had bought the entire table shots and made everyone all take them together. The sudden rush of alcohol only adding to Martin’s confidence as he rests his hand on your thigh, a smirk coming to his lips when he felt you ease into his touch and lean closer towards him. 

Martin looked down at you, his eyes raking over your body. He couldn’t help but bite his inner cheek at the sight of you. The red completed your features, only making him desire you even more. He ducked his head down so his lips could ghost your ear as he spoke. “You look beautiful.” 

“You don’t look too bad yourself.” You turned your head slightly, now it was your time to admire him. His white shirt tightly wrapped around his chest, clearly displaying every single one of his muscles. You’d be lying to yourself if you said you hadn’t imagined tracing them with your nails. 

“Thank you darling.” 

“You guys mind if I squeeze in here?” Ben grabbed both of yours attention as he slid inside the booth. There certainly wasn’t room for all of you so everyone was doing their best to squeeze together. 

“No not at all.” Martin replied. He grabbed your hips and lifted you up effortlessly before placing you in his lap, his hands laying across your thighs as Ben sat beside the two of you. “You okay?” Martin whispered in your ear, suddenly realising maybe he should have asked you before pulling you onto his lap. 

“Perfect.” You turned your head to face him as you spoke. 

His hands didn’t leave your body as the night went on. Aaron had introduced a drinking game meaning everyone was slowly getting tipsy well, the lads were getting drunk fastest due to the lack of alcohol they’re allowed to consume during the season. Martin’s lips kept ghosting the back of your neck, almost like he wanted to do something. The feeling of his lips ghosting your skin and the feeling of his arms protectively around your waist and thighs drove you crazy. 

Standing up and pulling your dress down, trying not to come across as flustered from Martin’s touch. “I’m going to get a drink, anyone want another?” 

“Can you get me a pint?” Kieran called out. “I’ll transfer you the money!”

“Can I have one too?” Aaron followed suit. 

“y/n can you get me a double rum and coke?” Saka continued. 

“Do you want one?” You turned to Martin. 

“I’ll come with.” He winked as the pair of you shuffled your way out of the booth and towards the bar. Martin placed a hand on the small of your back as he guided you to the bar. 

You ordered the drinks, getting yours first you took a sip as Martin watched. “What are you drinking?” He asked innocently. 

“Vodka and lemonade, you ever had it before?”

“I have not.”

“You’ve never had vodka and lemonade?” You asked in disbelief. “Martin it’s like the most standard drink you can get -”

“You forget that the two of us have had very different lives darling.” He leaned closer as he spoke. 

“Even so I thought you’d at least have tried it.”

“Nope, never.” 

“Do you want to?” You handed to drink to him. 

“Sure.” Martin raised the glass to lips but never took a sip. He quickly set the glass aside and captured your lips into his, tasting the sweet liquid that still lingered on your lips. His hand came to cup your jaw whilst the other grabbed your waist and pulled your hips into his. You quickly kissed him back, running your hands through his blonde locks, deepening the kiss and allowing him to bite down on your bottom lip, the action alone making you moan. 

He pulled away, resting his forehead on yours. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.”

“Believe me Martin.” You planted a light kiss on his lips. “I think I know.” 

“Does this mean you’ll go on a date with me?”

“I’d love to Captain Ødegaard.” 

[technowoah]

Can I request a prompt #37 with Karl Jacobs? I love your writing btw :)

Ring(s)

The four times Karl tried to propose and the one time he actually did.

- Karl Jacobs x gen!neutral reader!

- Prompts: 37) "Are you proposing?!"

⚠︎ swearing, fluff, angst if you squint and a rushed ending. I didn't proofread either

an// TYSM FOR LIKING MY WORK 😭ALSO Thanks for requesting and sorry this came out so late! Hope you enjoy :)

To say that Karl loved you was an understatement. He adored you and practically worshipped the ground you stood on. He is so respectful, which is a major upgrade from your other boyfriends, and loves you for who you are. You didn't have to put on a facadè at all during the 3 years you two have dated.

This love wasn't a one way thing. You loved him just as much, or even more, than he did. Everything he did you supported, you were always cheering him on from wherever you were. You were here for the good and the bad, and he was too. You two never shyed away from admiting your love and support. You could write a essay on each thing you love about Karl.

The idea of marriage came up during a late night dinner at Denny's. The idea came so naturally to you, so it surprised Karl that you didn't tense up. Karl was tense when bringing up the topic of marriage, so when you said "Yeah, I wanna get married to you one day." so casually it caught him off gaurd.

You two had already talked about marriage time and time again, but this time Karl wanted to take the initiative. He was ready to get married and since the marriage talk was just a few months ago it was fresh in his mind. Karl could vividly imagine you walking down the aisle towards him looking angelic. He could see everything now and he wanted those daydreams to become a reality. He wanted to physically feel your hands against his as you two say "I do" to one another.

He couldn't stop thinking about settling down in a nice house with you. Karl already bought a ring for you and always has it with him. Now he justs needs to figure out how to tell you.

1st proposal: Fireworks

"THIS IS THE MOST EXPENSIVE FIREWORK IN THE ENTIRE WORLD-"

You blocked out Jimmy's yelling as you sat in a lawn chair in the middle of the woods. Karl had invited you to a MrBeast video shoot because he thought it would be a great early 4th of July. It was late at night and slightly cool outside, so you were wearing a MrBeast hoodie Karl was wearing earlier. You zoned out as the boys talked to the camera over and over again, taking multiple shots.

You found yourself looking at Karl most of the time you sat there and you always caught his gaze towards you. Every time you caught him looking at you, you sent him a small wave or blow him a kiss and every time he sent a shy wave back or sent a more exaggerated kiss back.

During halfway through the shooting you begrudgingly had to move your lawn chair further and further away from your original spot. Karl always checked up on you before and after each firework set were blown up. He has been acting fidgety around you and you didnt know why. When you tried to confront him about it he would always turn away and go back to the boys without a glance back, and his hands in his pockets.

You loved watching the guys play with so many different types of fireworks, this was a great 4th of July for you, but you wished that Karl was sitting next to you feeling the bliss that you were.

You were currently sitting behind bulletproof glass while the guys had a control panel on their lap. Karl kept sending glances towards you and you looked at him and smiled whishing he was next to you and not over by the guys. You knew it was selfish, but he invited you here.

Karl kept bouncing his leg, he kept his hand in his pocket which held the ring. He kept sending glances towards you, knowing he should be on one knee right about now. Jimmy was about to fire off the last rocket of the night and Karl couldn't seem to go over and ask you to marry him. He knew he was hilding himself back which made him hate himself. You deserved a good night and he hoped you enjoyed the fireworks, but he knew on the ride back he would have to apologize.

He stayed with the boys as they went to go see the fireworks they would be setting off soon. Once they came back they were all about to press the button to set off the expensive fireworks they counted down from 5 and he looked towards you. You were standing up with your arms crossed, hopefully shielding yourself from the cold, and looking towards the fireworks that were going to burst. They finally pressed the button the fireworks went off.

Each burst of light in the air sent a glow onto your smiling face. Karl sent a somber glace and marveled in how the explosion of the fireworks sent a beautiful glow around you.

This wasnt the right time. Next time.

2nd proposal: Donuts

"Im sorry for last night." Karl apologized as you both took a seat at a booth by the window at the small coffee and donut shop.

This was supposed to be an apology for the last failed proposal. Instead of spending time with you, he kept his distance which was the opposite of what he really wanted to do. This was a way to spend much needed time with eachother, but this was also another attempt at a proposal.

Karl wanted to hide the ring in the middle of a donut so when you inevitably look at it when he hands it to you, you'll see the ring and then he'll propose right there. To him it seemed flawless.

You never wanted a huge proposal. You didnt want that much attention on you when your future significant other would propose. Something simple would be the ideal proposal and you've hinted that many times to Karl and right now he was listening. There were only two other couples in the small diner because others were picking up donuts and leaving. If he decided to get down on one knee it would cause a scene.

You stayed silent for a moment looking at Karl before deciding to speak.

"It's no problem. Please dont stress out about it." You smiled softly and he smiled back at you. "I mean the fireworks were beautiful, but you all were screaming too much."

You both laughed as you both recalled that night in the desert.

"Yeah I just didn't..I didn't really talk to you all night. I feel bad." Karl said fiddling with his hands.

"Its in the past Karl. And I still know you love me." You reached out to grab both of his hands and hold his cool hands in yours.

"I do love you." He whispered for only you to hear leaving both of you smiling ear to ear.

"What kind of donuts you want?" Karl asked looking into your eyes carefully.

You thought about it for a while before speaking up. "I'll keep it simple. Icing with sprinkles. Surprise me with the icing color!" You exclaimed while letting go of his hands for a second.

Once you two let go of eachothers hands he immediately went to his pocket and played with the velvet box. He nodded his head and without a word he stood up to meet the cashier behind the display box of donuts. He ordered only one donut as you said with orange icing this time.

He paid for the food and stayed at the counter where he paid. Karl looked back to see if you were paying attention to him only to see you looking out the window at the people passing by. Karl smiled at the sight knowing he really wants to marry you one day and then he looked down at the glistening ring inside of the box.

Karl was supposed to put the ring in the middle of the donut that was laying alone on a napkin on the counter. He started to think of the possibilities of what could happen. What if you didn't see the ring and crumble the ring with the napkin and throw it away? What if you accidentally put the ring in your mouth? What if you weren't hungry anymore?

He looked over again to where you were looking at him giving him the same smile you gave during the fireworks. Karl sighed and once again closed the box with the ring. He was a coward and he knew that.

Karl picked up the donut from the counter and made his way over to you.

"Here's your donut with sprinkles and orange icing!" Karl exclaimed putting emphasis on the 'orange' part.

"Thanks babe!" You smiled as he sat down across from you. "Wait, you didn't get anything for yourself?"

Karl sighed again for what seemed like the 100th time today and put on a smile. "I ended up not being as hungry as I thought I was."

"Well I could always share!" You started to eat your donut as Karl ended up looking outside.

Unbeknownst to you he was thinking of another way to propose without himself getting in his own head.

He'll find a time.

3rd proposal: Livestream

"Chat! As you can see I have my significant other here with me!" Karl exclaimed to his Twitch following.

You were sat next to him in another one of his office chairs with a blanket across your lap. You loved to join Karl's streams, the last couple of time you two played minecraft, gang beats, played on the nitendo switch for a while, but this time he didn't tell you what games you two would be playing. Karl just told you to come over tonight and ended up asking to join him for a stream last minute.

Now you are here next to him as Karl glows with excitement as he streams to his growing followers. You loved how he interacted with his fans and had a genuine connection with them, but sometimes that strong connection can, and has led to some nights where you had to stay the night and comfort him from his inner demons and the internet. Those nights made you love him even more, the vulnerability he gave to you made you comfortable with him.

It seems like the more time you spend eith him the more you want to officially get married. You didn't want to rush him because you soon figured out for yourself that there is no rush to express your love, which you two do everyday day. You two can get eloped in Vegas and you'll be happy, as long as you can spend the rest of your life with the man you love.

Karl kept sending glances towards you throughout the stream hoping you were having fun with the chill, q and a stream. Again he wanted to propose to you tonight during the stream. He loved showing your relationship whenever he could and whenever you would allow him to. His community also loved you the moment you became his significant other, so hopefully this will be a beautiful moment.

You talked to his chat as he contemplated, again, about whether to propose tonight. It wasn't infront of people, it was infront of a screen and it would be on Twitter in less than a week. This would be a good moment, but then again he wanted this moment to be between you two and he couldn't find the right time nor the right "moment".

As the stream continues you ended up wrapping yourself fully in the blanket and lying your head on his shoulder. You both cuddled eachother while you two answered questions. Karl kissed the top of your head and finally collected all of his thoughts.

He didn't need to propose to officially claim his love to you. Karl knew you both loved eachother to the ends of the Earth and back. There's no need for ceremony and the one day he will propose, he know it will come naturally. There is no need to force it, and now he wont.

Only time will tell.

4th proposal: spongebob

"Are you ready, kids?

Aye, aye, Captain!

I can't hear you!

Aye, aye, captain!

Oh!"

The TV illuminated the comfortable, dark room you two were in. You were lying on the couch with Karl with the blanket you had while streaming. It was late at night after the stream and you two ended up watching re-runs of spongebob. Karl sang along to the theme song softly while you hummed along. This was the 4th episode you both watched this night and it was a great way to end the week.

"Do you want to stay over tonight?" Karl asked softly with tiredness in his voice.

"Of couse. Im too tired to move, so thanks for offering." You chuckled.

"You're welcome here anytime." Karl yawned and squeezed your sides. "Do you want popcorn?"

"Hell yeah." You got off of Karl as he walked to the kitchen.

He put the bag into the microwave and leaned back onto the kitchen counter as he waited. Karl looked over to the side and saw a empty vase which was next to the velvet box he was carrying with him this whole week. He shook his head and laughed to himself before getting the popcorn out of the microwave, dumping it in a bowl and walking back to see you taking up the whole couch.

"Move over or I'll sit on you." Karl said standing above her.

"Is that a promise?" You teased.

"Okay then!" He turned around and began to slowly and dramatically fake sitting ontop of you.

You began to laugh and try to push him off of you. You successfully got him to sit down and returned to your previous position, but this time with popcorn.

"I love you, you know that?" You hummed into his chest.

"Yeah, and I love you more."

"I love you most."

"I love you mostest." Karl laughed.

"That's not a word." You smiled.

"I love you so much I made up a word for ya." Karl kissed you head and you hugged him tighter.

"You know what?" Karl chuckled. "I love you so much that I tried to propose to you 3 times this week."

Karl finished and you sat up from your spot looking surprised. Karl sat up as well thinking he made a mistake telling you. He was abkut to apologize, but you beat him to speak.

"Oh my gosh!" You exhaled.

"Look, I'm sorr-"

"Are you proposing?!" You exclaimed with a smile on your face.

"Huh-?"

Karl was surprised just like you were before. He remembered that he wanted the Maybe this was the moment he needed this week.

Karl grabbed both of your hands and caressed them both, looking into your eyes. "I was planning to all week. But now I think this is a good moment. So Y/N? Will you marry me?"

"Of course I will!" You enveloped him into a tight hug and peppered his face with kisses. He finally found his moment and he couldn't be happier.

"You said you tried to propose three other times?" You questioned. "When was that?"

"Its a long story."

[littlemisslipbalm]

“it’s not that important”

Summary: Y/N is in Harry’s band and one night they have a drunken hook up. One thing leads to another and they find themselves engaging in a friend’s with benefits type of situation. spoiler: it is important

AKA: A friends with benefits to lovers story :) with some angst in there

This is for @stylesharrys fallinharry10k celebration so my trope is friends with benefits! prompt is “you have no goddamn idea what you do to me. when i’m around you, i have no control of my emotions or my thoughts” and the tenth picture ^ i kinda just used it in the beginning to descripe what he was wearing - i got really carried away with this story but the prompt is in there !! lol, not proofread tho but would love your feedback !!!! :) love y’all very much 

oh boy i’ve had this done for agesss but i hadn’t written the smut until today so now we’re here i dont even remember what happens - i vaguely remember not loving the end but I hope yall enjoy

Word Count: 15.4k (longest fic to date) | Warnings: smut, angst, fluff, alcohol consumption? i dont remember but i dont think theres anything too heavy in here.

-

“Hey Harold!” You smile as you easily hop over the side of the couch and settle beside your bandmate.

Harry groans, yet can’t keep the small smile off of his face when he sees it’s you. “How many times have I told you to never call me that?”

Your eyes narrow at his faux glare. “And how many times have I told you, I simply do not care?” 

You reach a hand out and tousle his already disheveled, unstyled brown hair. Despite his lack of styling, his hair still looked perfect. His chestnut hair fell into a middle part when he did nothing to it and you found it endearing. It made him look far younger than he truly was, like a boy you might have pursued when you were in your early days at college. The waves slightly framed his prominent cheekbones and chiseled jaw that was sporting a tiny amount of stubble.

He moves his arm from around the back of the couch to pat at his hair, trying to put it back in its nondescript position you had just messed with. After he’s satisfied, he uses the same hand to push up his glasses on the bridge of his nose. They’re chestnut brown Gucci frames that match the natural highlights in his hair. You can safely assume that’s why he bought them. The lenses are clear, but you know they don’t hold any prescription. He looks incredulously at you from behind them still.

“Nice glasses,” you mention offhandedly as you reach out to the coffee table to grab the drink you had left there earlier.

Before Harry had arrived, you had been taking up residence on the couch, in the spot he had actually taken up. You had ventured to the restroom for a moment and gotten held up in a conversation when asked your preference for the Beatles. Having to defend your staunch stance for the Beatles and against the Rolling Stones, you had gotten swept up into an argument with Adam. He believed that because the Rolling Stones toured for longer warranted them the title of best rock band. While you countered that despite their long touring and production of music, the Stones had a rotation of members. The Beatles maintained the four of them and held such a large impact even though they were barely together for a decade. They were one of a kind, or at least the first of their kind, you’d allow. You weren’t really in the mood for intellectual conversation tonight, so upon seeing Harry taking up your seat, you had told Adam you’d continue the discussion at a later date and returned to your spot.  

“Thanks,” Harry mumbles as his gaze flits around the room. He wasn’t sure if you were actually complimenting him, but he would take it as one either way.

The rest of your friends are all up and about, drinking, talking, dancing. It was the usual house party scene: a relatively intimate gathering, music you all actually liked, some friends of friends feeling slightly out of place. There was no pressure in this type of gathering but still Harry wasn’t necessarily in the party mood tonight. Usually, Harry was the one instigating these types of get-togethers with his friends and bandmates. He liked to be the life of the party, but as the tour loomed closer and closer, he felt some tinge of longing for quiet and solitude. He knew he wouldn’t have much quiet while on the road, which mostly didn’t scare him. He loved the stage and the high he received from performing and the gratification he felt from all the people in the room being there to see him. But there was also that other part of him that liked the quiet, the privacy. As the lack of alone time nudged itself around the corner, he had been hoping to enjoy solitude, or at the very least peace before he was on the road. Some sort of blissful state before technical chaos ensued. When Charlotte, the host of tonight’s soiree, had texted their group chat about tonight, Harry had politely declined. Then came the slew of private texts from Charlotte giving him all the reasons he should come tonight. He tried to say no again, but had shown up after the continued begging from her.

His appearance mirrored his expression, choosing a not perfectly fitted white t-shirt and random trousers rather than picking something he really loved, like usual. You could tell something was up and as his friend you were wondering what was wrong with him.

“Don’t sound so excited, Harry, someone might mistake you for somebody who’s happy to be here.” You stick your tongue into the side of your cheek, gauging his reaction.

“Has anyone ever told you you’re not very funny?” He quips, green eyes flashing to meet yours.

Your banter is probably how the pair of you communicated the best, never really falling into the whole serious side of friendship. You never shared those late night talks about the future or your fears. It was a fun friendship, so you didn’t fancy yourself one of his closest confidants. When it came to music, you and Harry were a bit more serious which formed a sort of paradox because the music you would share with each other gave a far greater insight into your souls than you probably realized. As a member of his band, you would discuss his music and what was going on with that sort of business part. But the sharing and discussion of other music that you did was part of your friendship, even if you didn’t see it like that. Because of the countless albums you had recommended to each other and the specific songs you had made note of, Harry and you knew each other much better than you thought you did. Music connects to something deep inside yourself and you have to like it enough and know the other person well enough to believe that they will also enjoy it to recommend it. As much tongue and cheek that you partook in with Harry, deep down, unbeknownst to either of you, you were that friend he shared his hopes and fears with, through the way he knew best, music.

“No, most people find me hilarious...”

You take a sip of your drink, trying to cover up the sting that his remark actually left. Most of the time you were great at keeping up with anyone’s banter, especially Harry’s, but tonight you weren’t feeling it. His tone had sounded so harsh it almost sounded like he meant it. His features soften when he sees the way your face falls, despite your sarcastic tone.

“‘M sorry. I’m just not in the best mood tonight. Didn’t want to come, but Charlotte…” He shifts to face you, arm retracting slightly around the couch, landing his hand at the edge of your shoulder. His fingers fiddle with themselves absentmindedly, he turns his rings around his fingers and they ever so slightly brush against your shoulder. You don’t mind, you know its his nervous tick that he did whenever he didn’t have something to clink them against.

“Yeah, same here, actually.” Your tuck an out of place hair behind your ear, returning your gaze to Harry, who’s tilting his head at you curiously. “But might as well make the most of it, though. After all, this is our last week before tour starts.” You raise your glass and tilt it towards him before taking a sip.

You really didn’t have a plan, you were just trying to make him feel a little better. It was seldom you saw him so solemn at this type of gathering. He usually was the one bouncing from group to group, entertaining everyone with his dazzling charm and quick wit. Sometimes he would bring a date and spend the night with them in the corner, but that was usually at bigger parties than this. At these types of gatherings you often found yourself talking with Charlotte for most of the night. You were both new additions in the band and you had clicked immediately. You would travel in a pair between different groups and talk with everyone. Sometimes you would tell a humorous anecdote about your life and everyone would laugh wholeheartedly. Your ability to retell a story and make it hilarious every time seemed to be your secret talent. You could make any experience into a ten-minute retelling and it always sounds like the funniest moment of your life. It ranged from your embarrassing audition for Grease as a tween to your supermarket run in with an old acquaintance or B-list celebrity the day before. It didn’t matter what it was, it just always had the entire circle of people laughing and wiping their eyes with joy. You’d laugh a little with themselves, but usually you just had a triumphant smile on your lips for the rest of the night.

He nods, sipping his own drink for the first time since you had settled down beside him. “Well, I’m all ears.”

“What?”

“Give me your suggestions on how to make the most of tonight.”

“Drinking, mostly, was my plan,” you laugh nervously as Harry continues to stare at you intently.

“Mostly?”

“I mean, what do you want me to say? I didn’t think to pack my bouncy castle, my bad.”

He bites back a laugh but lets some air escape his defined nose, before staring with a deadpan face at you.

You like to tease him. You simply liked him. Harry was different from other men you knew. You were pretty sure most people could say that though. Harry was just different. It seemed like no one could not have some sort of affection for him. With the playful friendship the pair of you had, you always skirted the edge of flirtation. But you also didn’t particularly ever want to cross any lines with him. He was the employer of you, technically. He had brought you into his backing band and you wouldn’t do anything to harm that position. As well, at the end of the day you knew Harry. His tendencies and the choices he made.

When you were around him at parties like this, you had to try really hard to keep him at an arm’s length. Because on one hand, you would drink and suddenly the boundaries you put up didn’t seem that important, instead his lips started to look rather inviting, but on the other, you knew that he was extremely emotionally closed off to any relationship that was more than either friendship or a one night stand.

Harry doesn’t give you a response, just swings back his drink. The pair of you sit and drink in silence. Before you know it, Harry and you are five drinks in, finally talking after the second. The pair of you decide to move to the balcony outside and continue your conversation there after the third. After the fourth, you're getting really handsy and by the end of the fifth, Harry’s arm is wrapped tightly around your waist and you're laughing breathlessly into his neck. It looks like he’s just shielding you from the cold night air, but both of you seemed to be enjoying each other’s embrace for other reasons.

Finally catching your breath, you lean back and pant softly as you meet eyes with Harry. His pupils have blown out from the alcohol and dark light. The emerald green barely surrounds the black and you swear there’s flecks of gold or maybe brown in them. Your brows scrunch at the revelation and Harry asks what you’re thinking. You don’t respond, too entranced and drunk to even hear him.

“Oi,” he bops your nose, “What is goin’ on in there, little lady?”

Your hand reaches up and widens Harry’s eye manually. His inebriated state has no qualms about you doing such an odd thing. “Why’s your green not actually green?”

“What?” He asks before moving your hand away from his face, it instead falls to his chest. The pair of you shift until your caged between his body and the balcony’s ledge. You pout as you stare up at him. His skin looks soft and taught over every inch of his face and neck. The urge to kiss him keeps nagging at the back of your mind. The idea keeps creeping up closer and closer and the drunker you are the less likely you are to suppress it.

“Do you want to fuck me?” You blurt out.

“Sure.” Harry isn’t taken aback. He had been thinking about asking for a while, so he was glad you had asked first, made it easier for him.

“Okay, let’s go.”

He takes you back to your place, the pair of you catching a cab the short distance between yours and Charlotte’s flats. No one blinks an eye at the pair of you leaving together. Everyone watched the pair of you sulk all night about being there and only enjoying the other’s company, so they weren’t keen on either of you staying. Charlotte was simply glad the pair of you had stayed for as long as you did.

The two of you walk casually until you’re inside your bedroom. Once inside, Harry throws you on the bed and fucks you. Hard. He’s got you spread out in more ways than you had ever thought possible. He’s got you saying things you had never even dreamed of saying. And he’s got you cumming and screaming more than you could have ever wanted. He enjoys himself as well. He loves the way you feel around him and the way your eyes look up at him while he fucks you straight into the bed. He loves the way you sound whispering dirty things and screaming his name. He loves the feel of your soft skin all over your body as he pushes deep inside you. He loves the way you’re able to rip a guttural moan from him every time he cums. And he cums three times that night. While it wasn’t quiet, he did find that blissful state he had been in desperate need of.

After the third round, Harry feels spent. He brings himself into a sitting position, legs hanging off the edge of your bed. You’re lying in your bed, completely overstimulated, cumming at least twice as many times as Harry. He scratches at the top of his head, his bicep bulging as he folds his arms around himself.

“That was fucking good, Y/N. Just what I needed.”

You can only hum in response.

Then he takes your blanket and lays it over you. After that he begins to stand up, getting ready to grab his things and go.

“You don’t have to go…” your voice raises when you realize what he’s doing.

“Yeah, I do. This was just a one time thing, yeah? I enjoyed it, but you know...”

“Erm, I guess?” You rolled to fully look at him, he was pulling his t-shirt back on now, his marked chest disappearing beneath the white fabric. “Do you really not stay over at your one night stands?”

He thinks about it as he begins with his shoes and his glasses at the same time. “Yes? Usually I don’t know the person and I don’t particularly want to sign an autograph when I leave in the morning. Best to leave immediately afterwards.”

“That was exactly why I wanted you to stay...Shit! No chance you’ll give me an autograph now? Could sign my tit, right next to your hickies.”

He laughs, automatically in a better mood after the catharsis of having sex. It was also a relief for him that you didn’t seem to be weird about the hook up. “Shut up!”

“You’re a twat, Harold.” He groans instinctively at the annoying nickname, not caring about the ‘twat’ part. “But be my guest, you can freeze your arse off while waiting for your cab outside at this hour.”

“Rude..” He mutters, standing in your doorway now. “You wouldn’t actually make your employer stand out in the cold at this time of night. I haven’t even got a jumper. Could get a cold and ruin my voice. ”

“You’re the one who says it’s best to leave immediately. Get on it, mister.”

Your hand makes a shooing movement, but he doesn’t budge. You sigh as he makes a puppy dog face - eyes wide and a puckered pout with his flushed cheeks and lips - playing into your actual kindness, that he knows is somewhere. Your sweetness that you were keeping hidden from Harry right now. Nothing was serious between you so it made sense that you were trying not to let your innate ability to care show as he’s about to walk out on you.

“Ugh, fine. Stop looking at me like that. Just grab one of my coats from the bottom right, they’re all oversized so one should fit.” He doesn’t relent on the face. “And you can stay inside until your cab comes.” You sigh and throw one of your pillows at him. He catches it easily and throws it back, much softer than your throw. “Also never pull the employer card on me again when I’m naked in the bed you just fucked me in,” you call as he looks through your closet.

Returning with a patchwork coat you had thrifted tight over his shoulders, he looks at you seriously, “Yeah sorry about that part. Definitely wasn’t trying to exert my power over you, it sounded better in my head. Meant more like you could ruin my voice and both of our jobs.”

You nod and chuckle slightly, finding how inarticulate Harry could be as an endearing trait. His explanation didn’t actually make it sound better. “The jacket fits.” You say, choosing to move forward from Harry’s weirdness, knowing he didn’t mean any harm from his initial statement.

“Yeah, thanks. I think my cab is here,” He glances at his phone, “So I’ll go...See you?”

“I’m sure.” You smile, “We do in fact work together and will soon be touring the world. Would be a bit weird if I didn’t see you.”

“Right.” He nods and adds a peace sign before he walks out of your sight. You know he’s gone when you hear the door click shut. What an interesting night.

-

Love on Tour had just started and Harry couldn’t lie. He couldn’t keep his mind off of you. You were both his most recent partner and the best he had had in a while. He found himself rubbing over the spots on his neck and clavicle that you had given particular attention to during the night you had shared together. When he went to bed it was your body he pictured to get himself off. So, after the first show he’s beelining to you at the beginning of the after party. He’s got an adrenaline high and he needs a release. You’re the solution. He’s whispering in your ear, asking if you’d like to meet him in his dressing room. Your eyes study his face when he pulls back and they widen slightly when the realization of what he’s implying dawns on you. Then you’re nodding and excusing yourself from a random conversation five minutes later.

Inside Harry’s dressing room, you find Harry already unbuttoning his shirt. He grabs your face and shoves his lips onto yours once you lock the door. As he kisses you he tries to make one thing very clear, “This doesn’t mean anything.”

“Got it.” You begin to finish Harry’s job of taking off his shirt.

He pulls back to look you in the eye, “Are you okay with that?”

“Jesus fuck, yes, Harry, just shut up and fuck me senseless again!”

He listens to you and begins to kiss down your jaw and neck. His open-mouth kisses leave a searing trail across your skin. He settles on a spot at the base of your neck and begins to suck and nip at it with vigor. You set to work on finishing his job of unbuttoning his shirt. Then you pull off your own shirt, reaching behind you to untie the bows at the back. The new skin exposed grabs Harry’s attention and he moves down to suck over the cleavage of your tits. He’s happy to be back with his ‘bosom friends’. You smack his head when he says it and he chuckles darkly, only sucking harder on them causing you to moan louder than you would like.

Once you’re both in only your underwear, you find your back pressed up against the mirror behind the dressing room counter. Harry’s body is nestled between your spread legs as he kisses down your skin. His fingers dance along the line of your thong as he looks up from beneath his lashes for position, you only push his head closer to your heat in response. He laughs mischievously before tugging them down off your hips.

“Missed this pretty little cunt...All I’ve been thinkin’ ‘bout,” He mutters as he begins to latch onto your dripping core.

Your brows shoot up at the thought that Harry’s mind has been stuck on you for the past week. You definitely had thought about your drunken hook up a bit, but hadn’t thought it had left a lasting impression on Harry, you assumed he had that lovely of a night with every person he chose to spend intimate time with. These thoughts are forgotten when Harry’s warm tongue is lapping at your swollen bud. You’re already panting for Harry and now you’re heaving with moans and whimpers leaving your mouth with every lick and nip of his expert mouth.

“Fuck Harry, feels so good,” you whine as his tongue travels down your folds and swirls and dips into your hole.

He moans at your words and the way your legs squeeze at his head. His hands move to spread you open wide to maintain his control and he smirks at the way your body rolls due to the friction of his voice against your pussy.

“Be a good girl f’me,” he growls still pressed against your wet heat.

Your body rolls again as you get closer and closer to your first release. Your bite your lip trying to contain all of the sounds that are trying to escape your mouth. Harry notices the new silence and glances up seeing how you’re trying to behave. As much as he likes you obeying his words, he also wanted to hear how he was pleasuring you.

“Tell me how you feel, princess,” he demands.

“So-so good,” you hiccup as his fingers caress over your folds now as he looks you in the eyes, his lips wet with your slick. He kisses you hard, his tongue diving into your mouth and you kiss back passionately, loving your taste on his tongue.

He pulls back and your hands trail down his chest, swirling around his familiar tattoos and hair that grace his lower torso as you move. He grins, enjoying the feeling of you on him and how he was affecting you.

Soon enough, his cock is finding its way back to your glistening folds, wet with your own liquids as well as his saliva. His mouth waters at the sight. He only pushes into you a few times like this. Then he catches sight of himself in the mirror in front of him and can’t resist. He pulls out and flips you over, your squeal leaving your mouth before you can stop yourself. His dick finds your entrance once again, not wanting to be without the wonderful warmth for any longer than he must.

“Ahhh,” Harry groans when he slips back inside.

Your head throws back on your neck, the feeling of him as well as the sight of him gripping your hair in one hand and your fleshy hip in the other. His rings dig into the skin as he’s able to slam more forcefully in this position. You gasp and whine at his motions. The sounds coming from between your legs are turning you on even more and they seem to make Harry happy too. He picks up the pace and drops the grasp of your hair for a second. Your head falls down as you try to keep yourself up on your elbows.

Gripping both of your hips, Harry growls, “Look at me while I fuck you. C’mon now.”

You moan in response and tear your eyes open to see your reflections in the mirror. One hand goes up to hold onto the mirror to give yourself more traction, causing your back to arch even more. The new position has Harry’s cock slamming into you deeper.

“Fuck!” Harry practically yells and can’t keep himself from landing a harsh slap on your ass. You jump forward at the sting but his other hand keeps the pace steady. He keeps burying himself into you all the way to his base, his balls slapping at your now slick spread thighs. He rubs over the red handprint he had just left on your ass. You whimper and bite your lip, truly enjoying the sensation.

Still staring into the mirror as Harry commanded, your eyes water slightly and Harry makes eye contact with you through the mirror. You smile widely and he grins back. “This feels so fucking good. Your pussy takes me so well. Fuck…” Harry babbles, still pistoning into you. You had noticed how vocal he was the first time you had fucked, but thought it had just been the alcohol. Apparently not. But you didn’t mind, you much preferred it to partners who barely spoke or didn’t even moan. Like how were you supposed to know what was going on in their minds? With Harry, you knew he was having a good time.

A few more heavy thrusts and you felt yourself nearing the edge. Your panting was getting faster, exceeding the speed of Harry’s thrusts and he could also feel you were close. Your cunt began squeezing him tighter so he hooked a hand under your knee and brought it onto the table. He hunched over you slightly and snaked his hand to your clit. “C’mon darling, I know you're close. Can feel that little cunt putting a choke hold on my cock.” He rubs at your clit with the vigor of strumming a quick paced song on the guitar. It’s enough to overtake your senses and the laugh that had bubbled from his words turns into your orgasm moan. You try to muffle it into the arm that is holding you against the mirror to avoid a full on scream because it feels that good. You felt like you were having your first ever orgasm, it felt that new to you.

A few more thrusts and you’ve come down from it, but Harry still hasn’t finished. It’s your turn to be the partner coaxing the other to get off. “Faster, Har. Want you to cum too.” He grunts, picking back up the pace. He had slowed to let you ride out your stay. “That’s it...want you to cum in me. Your cock feels so fucking good.” You whine, meaning every word. He smiles again at you and closes his eyes, focusing on chasing his high. You watch as his smile widens to that open mouth grin, “Fuck,” he almost whispers. And there it is. There’s a twitch in his hips that mirrors his expression and then he’s pulling out and cumming on your back. His voice is now even lower and raspier than before as he babbles how good that was and how tight your pussy was. It was sweet nothings, but extremely explicit and you sighed heavily, feeling a small orgasm wash over you again. His final thrusts and voice pushing you off the cliff again easily.

The two of you take a minute to bring your breathing back to normal and Harry goes to clean your back off.

“So..how do you feel about maybe doing this regularly?”  Harry asks sheepishly as he begins to pull his pants back on.

“Like a friends with benefits kind of thing? Or bandmates with benefits, rather.” You laugh breathlessly at your not really funny joke, but you’re now truly exhausted. From the show and the fuck, you felt thouroughly worked out.

“I guess that’s what it is, yeah.”

“Yeah, sure. Sounds good.”

“You’re honestly so chill, Y/N. It’s fuckin’ hot.”

You laugh and flip your hair dramatically. You’re only in your bra and panties right now and Harry licks his lips, finding your playfulness to be a turn on. “What can I say?” You laugh.

“But like I said before...it’s just sex.” He’s buttoning up his shirt and looking at your reflection through the mirror now. He watches you slip the pants you had been wearing back on.

“Oh, Harold, I know.” On cue, he groans and turns around to face you after fixing his mused hair in the mirror. Interrupting yourself, you turn your back to Harry, “Can you tie this, sorry it’s hard for me to get the -” Harry walks to you without any hesitation and begins tying the silk ribbons on the back of your shirt. “Thanks. Anyway,” you turn to face him when he’s finished and you place both of your palms on his chest. “Trust me, I know you’ve got your issues and I’m not looking to be the girl that tries to change you. I know what this is. I only ask that you let me know when you sleep with other people, because once you do, you won’t need me.” Harry nods and you pat your hands against him. You both smile and go your separate ways when you leave the dressing room.

-

Harry and you fucked almost every night on tour. Sometimes it was right after, on the counter in his dressing rooms. Sometimes it was later in the evening in his hotel room or yours. He stopped leaving immediately after your hook ups. He never kicked you out of his room so he decided it was fine for him to stay in yours. Especially because you weren’t a stranger who would be weird with him in the morning. He also didn’t like trekking through the hotel halls late at night.

The first few times you stayed in the same bed, the two of you stayed on opposite sides of the bed, not touching after you were finished engaging in your sexual endeavours. Rigid bodies against the edges of the mattress. Then one particularly long night, filled with multiple rounds, Harry was so exhausted from his performance on stage and off that he collapsed on top of you. He fell asleep there and you didn’t particularly mind. It felt nice to be slightly compressed and held. He shifted in his sleep and when he woke up he wasn’t upset to find you nestled into his side with his arms wrapped around you. After that, cuddling sort of became part of the routine. After you were done having sex, Harry or you would get up to clean up and bring back waters. Then you would settle in his arms. Sometimes in a spooning position and sometimes you cradled softly into his chest. You didn’t talk about it, it just happened.

One night it was your head directly on top of his butterfly tattoo, one leg thrown over his lower torso and your arm snuggly wrapped around his middle. He liked to pet your hair when you laid against his chest in that way. His fingers would fiddle with the strands and you liked it because he usually took off his rings before he would do it and his hands felt so soft and delicate against you. Harry liked the way he felt when he would hold you afterwards. It was calming to fall asleep against your soft skin and feel your fingertips trace lyrics to songs he wasn’t sure the name of against his own.

No one knew about how your friendship with Harry worked. To the rest of the world, you seemed to be someone who had become another close friend in the band. You were similar to Mitch in many respects. Except for when Harry winked at you during a show, it wasn’t a friendly wink, it was a ‘this song makes me horny and I can’t wait to relieve the pressure by fucking you later’ kind of wink. You knew this because Harry had gone over and whispered it in your ear during a quick break, when you had only looked at him weirdly after he did it.

Before the show tonight, you pulled Harry aside, “So what are we thinking tonight? I feel like I might want to ride you...Haven’t been on top in a while.” In the darkness of the backstage, you crane your neck to take Harry’s earlobe between your teeth. He groans softly and grips your hips to guide them against his for a second. “Sounds fuckin’ fantastic, love.” You twitch back, releasing him immediately at the word. You always told him not to call you that and he tried to reason with you, that it was just something he called people. But you disliked it a lot, adding it to the growing list of rules the pair of you had for the do’s and don'ts of being friends with benefits with each other.

“Harold,” you groan and he steps back at that pet name. While he hated this, you refused to let him put it on the list because it didn’t cross any lines with your physical arrangement. Not that there was any physical list to put it on, it was more of a theoretical list that the two of you would speak of occasionally.

“Sorry.” He says eventually, “Didn’t mean it.” You both laugh.

You think about how other relationships were sometimes desperate to hear their partner express their love for them and you believe you’re grateful for the simplicity of your arrangement. The term relationship regarding what you and Harry were doing was also in the ‘don’t’ category on the list. If either of you were being honest, there should be no need for a list and you should be questioning yourselves why you felt the need to set boundaries if one part of it was physical and the other part was your friendship and job. If it truly was just physical why were boundaries constantly needing to be set and followed? But right now honesty was not in the cards.

-

After the show Harry gets delayed with press or fans or something that you don’t really care about. You barely read the text that he sends, only caring about the ‘sorry got held up’ and the ‘be there in thirty’.

You let yourself into his room and wait on the bed, flipping through your phone, completely unbothered by the rest of the world. When you hear a knock on the door, you don’t think twice about getting up and opening the door. You only realize your terrible mistake when it’s Mitch and not Harry standing at what you’re also just realizing isn’t your door, but instead Harry’s.

“Shit!” you say under your breath as Mitch looks at you confused.

The room is dark behind you because Harry would have just entered and gotten down to business. He might turn on a side lamp, but you hadn’t felt the need to have light on while you waited. Forgetting all of that, you had just gone to the door and opened it.

Mitch tucks some of his hair behind his ear as he stares at you. “Is Harry here?”

“Er..No?” It comes out as a question. You rub the back of your ankle with your foot, feeling nervous.

“Is he actually not here or?” Mitch trails off, narrowing his eyes at you.

“No, no he’s really not here. I’m waiting for him, too.” You rush your words, but try to remain calm.

“You have a key to his room. And you’re waiting in the dark.” He says. They’re not questions and you’re not sure just how guilty you look.

“Yeah!” You try to come up with a non suspicious response, hoping there’s a way to still salvage your’s and Harry’s secret, “He gave me his key because he wanted to talk about something and I kept it dark because my eyes always hurt after shows. Kind of like a migraine.” You scratch at your head and smile, trying to convince Mitch. He seems to believe you as he nods slowly and opens his eyes more.

There’s a little bit of an awkward silence and Mitch shifts his weight between his feet, looking at you still. Just as you're about to invite Mitch to come wait inside with you, Harry steps out of the elevator and begins to walk down the hall. His key card is already in hand and your eyes widen. Harry’s expression mirrors yours when he realizes Mitch is standing outside of his door and that you are standing with him. “Mitch!” Harry says, placing his hand on Mitch’s shoulder and sliding his key card into his back pocket with the other. Mitch turns to Harry without seeing him put away the other key card and you look at the pair of them.

“I was just telling Mitch how you gave me your key card so we could talk about...that thing.” You interject, flicking the lights on in Harry’s room as casually as possible. Harry shoots you a look about how you couldn’t come up with an actual reason for being there. You shrug your shoulders helplessly.

Mitch looks between the two of you and feels some weird tension and he’s not sure if it's always there and he’s just noticing or if something is going on right now.

“Yeah, well, I came to stop by to talk about the riff in Canyon Moon. Something is wonky with it.”

“Oh! Sure,” Harry nods to Mitch and then glances at you, “Y/N, we can talk about that other thing later. It’s not that important anyway.” His tone is so casual and nonchalant. You stare at him, thinking he can’t be serious. You had been almost sure he would send Mitch away, but instead you were being kicked to the curb. When he doesn’t say sike or anything of the sort, you nod. “Okay,” then you mumble a ‘good luck’ with figuring out the problem with the song. Mitch walks in the door, but Harry’s eyes stay fixed on your figure retreating down the hallway. He watches you disappear and is only pulled from his thoughts when Mitch calls his name from the couch in the room.

After reaching your floor, you key into your room and get ready for bed. Just as you’re about to drift off to sleep, completely alone for once in a long time, there’s another knock. This time you check the peephole, a habit you realized you were going to have to get better at. It’s Harry. You open the door and walk away immediately once he’s entered the room.

“Why are you here?”

“Thought we could still...” He follows you into the room, trying to make out your face in the darkness.

“I’m not in the mood anymore.” Your tone gives away your annoyance. You couldn’t hide that you were mad at Harry for sending you away. It made you feel weird. The way he did it so easily made you feel like you were extremely disposable and unwanted.

“I’m sorry,” he sighs as he lays down beside you. You turn to face him when he places a hand on the small of your back. You’re face to face and your noses are almost brushing. It’s not really possible to see each other’s features, but after months of hooking up you knew each other’s faces pretty well. You could reach out and pinpoint all of Harry’s freckles and moles on his face and neck right now and be correct. He could likely do the same. The theory is proven correct when he reaches out and his hand dances down your cheek. “Just thought it would be less suspicious if I didn’t get rid of him. Couldn’t make him wait either…”

“I know,” your voice is small and soft, just above a whisper, “I forgive you.” You scoot closer to him and Harry instinctively wraps his arm around you, bringing you tightly into him. You sigh into his neck and he shivers at your warm breath on his slightly clammy skin. When you lick your lips, they brush lightly against his skin. He laughs at the feeling, so you decide to press an intentional kiss to the hollow in his neck. In response, he presses a kiss to your hairline, his lips slightly chapped after the concert.

The kisses are tender, filled with that thing neither of you dare attribute to anything the two of you did in the dark. The word you told him time and time again to not call you. So is just about every touch and word that has been exchanged in this room since Harry entered it. You fall asleep wrapped up in his arms, a soft smile resting on both of your faces. Neither of you seem to mind that you didn’t actually have sex tonight or anything even close to it.

-

When you wake up you feel especially well rested. You shift around and realize your bed is empty besides you. It depended on the day, but it was always a toss up between Harry being there when you woke up or not. However, lately, you had found it was usually the former. You would linger longer and so would Harry in each other’s rooms, lounging in each other’s embrace under the soft glow of the morning light peaking through whatever windows the room had. Today you were cold at his absence. Then you look up and realize you aren’t completely alone. Harry is standing at the end of your bed, staring down at his phone, smiling.

“Hey.”

You wait for his reply, but he doesn’t look up from his phone. “Hey, Harold,” you repeat. His head snaps up, a grimace on his face at the name. He slips his phone in his pocket and ruffles his hair. “Hey.” He finally responds. “I’m gonna head out.”

“Okay.”

Neither of you seem to find it necessary to talk about what happened last night. Harry definitely seemed a little off to you this morning, but you try to shake it from your thoughts. There was no reason to be upset with him being quiet. He didn’t owe you anything, you hadn’t even slept together last night, so if anything it was weird he stayed as long as he did.

It was the second night at the Forum in Los Angeles. This means no travelling necessary. No day off either, tomorrow you’d have a day off before the third and final show at the venue though.

Harry and you were talking normally at the venue, mostly about the setlist - him and Mitch had changed something for whatever reason last night, which was fine. Your banter was to a minimum, but you were trying to convince yourself that nothing was off. Even though it felt like something was different, you couldn’t place your finger on what it was, so you thought it was best to ignore it.

When Harry is about to go out on stage, you don’t pull him aside and when he introduces the members of the band to the audience, he doesn’t say anything fun or silly about you. He doesn’t wink or come up to you at any point in the performance. It’s so unusual the rest of your bandmates are giving you funny looks. Charlotte looks at you from across your keyboard in a way that she’s asking if you’re okay. You shake your head at everyone trying to signal that you’re fine.

Mitch goes over to Harry and whispers in his ear to check in with him, Harry looks at him with a bright smile on his face and says “of course, why wouldn’t I be?” Mitch looks between the pair of you, thinking back to last night and how weird the pair of you were being then. Maybe it dawns on him then what might be going on between the two of you, but if he did, he wouldn’t mention it for a long time.

You falter a bit on your back up vocals tonight. You’re trying to give it your all, like always, but for some reason your voice isn’t sounding the way you want it. About halfway through the show, when your voice comes out the exact opposite of how you would like, Harry finally gives you a second glance. His face practically emotionless, save for the single arched brow. He’s concerned, but not concerned enough where he would go over to you. He just doesn’t understand why you keep missing the right note tonight. You make a shake of your hand to say I don’t know either. He just shrugs and turns back around to continue the show, his lively smile returning while he turns his head.

After the show, Charlotte, Sarah, and you are all checking in, going over what had happened during the show in general. They’re both worried about your voice and you’re simply trying to tell them that it was just an off night. Nothing was wrong. As long as you told everyone else that, then it might turn out to be true.

“It’s fine, maybe I didn’t get enough sleep last night,” you fib, having gotten more sleep last night than most other nights on this tour. They both nod, seeming to take that as a reasonable answer.

Then Charlotte gets quieter as she whispers to the three of you, “Did you guys notice anything weird with Harry? He was super lively, but he barely interacted with you, Y/N, which is so unlike him...”

Sarah nods while you look skeptically on. Sarah adds, “He kept looking up to the boxes, too. More than usual at least. I don’t know though…” She trails off and you cross your arms over your chest, not really enjoying the conversation topic. “I mean, what do you think, Y/N?” Sarah adds.

Your eyes dance between the two women, your fellow bandmates, your friends. You sometimes wished you could share with them what you were doing with Harry. The secret was fun, but it’s also nice to be able to share with your girlfriends about the guy you’re seeing, even if it is a casual thing. The friendly gossip of it all is something fun to share, but sadly that was another thing you couldn’t do. You sigh, “You never really know what’s going on in his mind, y’know. He’s just Harry.” Your response is half-assed at best. You figure they’ll both give you shit for the non-answer you just supplied, but instead someone else speaks for them.

“I am in fact, just Harry.” He says and you swivel around to find yourself almost chest to chest with him. Charlotte laughs while Sarah simply smiles. Your eyes are huge as you stare up at him and you hope your blush doesn’t come out too strongly after being caught talking about Harry by himself. “Enlighten me on when I was being ‘just Harry’ though?” You bite your lip and take a step back from him, forming more of a line with the other women. He shrugs when no one offers a response, laughing lightly.

“Oh and Y/N, I can’t talk about that thing again tonight, I’ve got-”

“A date?” Charlotte asks, trying to understand why Harry was acting a little different tonight still. The part that Sarah had mentioned about him looking up into the boxes had given her the idea that he might have plans with someone after the show. Harry scratches his head, his hair slightly wet with sweat right after the show. He’s taken off his coat so he’s just in the almost completely unbuttoned, sweat soaked shirt he had been wearing underneath. It sticks tight to his skin and you can make out all the muscle lines that hide beneath the fabric that you usually get to caress. Your eyes flit from his body back to his face when he speaks again.

“Erm, I wasn’t going to phrase it like that...but yes, I suppose, it’s a date.” He says finally, he avoids your eye contact and you look at him very confused, trying to hide the hurt. He shoves his hands in his pockets trying to look and sound as casual as possible and ignore the strain he sees on your face. Is that what had held him up yesterday? Making plans with someone else? And he hadn’t told you until now? The past twenty four hours stung a little bit more now that you knew why Harry was being so distant. It simply felt icky finding out this way and it didn’t even seem like he was going to tell you it was a date.

“Okay,” you say simply and walk away. You hear Charlotte asking him details about his date, but you try actively not to hear any of it. Sarah watches you walk away and sees the way you wrap your arms around yourself to comfort you. She feels a twinge of sadness as she watches the scene unfold, seeing something she hadn’t realized was there before.

Harry doesn’t text or call you that night. You hang out with everyone else for a little while in Charlotte’s room before heading to bed, saying you think you need an early night tonight. Before you’re able to walk out of the door, Mitch stops you. “I heard Harry blew off whatever conversation the two of you have been trying to have again. Just wanted to tell you I’m sorry.” You try to smile but it comes out as more of a grimace. There is no conversation Harry is blowing off, it’s simply you. “It’s fine. Like he said yesterday, it’s not important.” Mitch nods, but still looks at you with concern. What he had seen last night, then on stage today, and what Sarah had told him about your interaction after the show it all strung together in his mind. It didn’t seem unimportant at all. But he didn’t know how he could tell you that. He felt like he should talk to Harry about the way you looked when you left Charlotte’s room tonight, but he didn’t know how to bring it up to him either.

You don’t realize you’re crying until you're in the elevator, and it’s slowly rising to your floor of the hotel. You’re only one level up, but it feels like an eternity in there. You already weren’t a fan of elevators, but this ride felt impossibly worse. The walls are all made up of mirrors and you see yourself in the reflection, but you don’t exactly recognize the girl in there. Your eyes are tired from the show, dark circles already formed. Your hands are aching, clenching and unclenching on their own accord. Your body is slumped against the back wall, likely leaving a slight imprint from the smoke residue and dust on your clothes. Worst of all are the tears running down your face, smudging at your makeup, the black mascara you had applied dripping down in sinister raindrops against your skin. The sad girl stares back at you as you sniffle slightly, confused at what you’re seeing. “Why are you crying?” you ask yourself, your voice creaking and then breaking at the end as you struggle to get out the word ‘crying’ before a sob wracks through you. You roll your eyes when your reflection offers no explanation for itself. You laugh at your own patheticness and try to shake the feelings you’re experiencing.

Inside your room now, you flop on the bed and stare straight up at the ceiling. Your arms spread to your sides and your legs lay limply below you. You think about every night before last, every night since the tour started. Every night where you weren’t alone, where you were with Harry. Your mind flits to last night, how Harry’s lips had ghosted over your skin after his apology. How you had told him you forgave him and it had felt so peaceful, so simple. It was all so easy. Thinking about him and the things the two of you did together brought a smile to your face, unbeknownst to you. When you realize it’s there, your face drops immediately, deciding not to think about Harry.

But trying to not think about Harry makes you only think about him more and what you think about him now most definitely doesn’t bring a smile to your face. You’re thinking about him out on his date with some person you chose to learn nothing about. Maybe out of fear of what is happening right now. By knowing nothing about the person, you can’t compare yourself to them. Can’t see what’s different about them that would make Harry go out on a date with them. But it doesn’t matter who they are or what they look like because at the end of it all you know one thing for certain. They’re not you. You correct yourself, you know two things actually, because you also know that Harry chose to be with them instead of you tonight.

You fall asleep with tear stained cheeks that night and absolutely nothing positive on your mind. You want to sleep but know it only brings whatever is bound to happen tomorrow, which doesn’t seem very promising.

-

It’s noon when you wake up and you wake to a knocking on your door. You grumble and throw a sweatshirt over your body to hide the underwear you slept in. Not remembering your new habit, you swing the door open without any hesitation to find Harry. He looks wide awake and happy, the way he almost always looks, a fresh beautiful flower of a man. You look at him groggily, “What are you doing here?”

“You weren’t answering your phone.”

“Because I was asleep?” You tilt your head and look at him incredulously. “What about this,” you gesture to your appearance, “looks like I just went for a 3 mile jog for fun and I love the morning?”

“Can I come in?” He ignores everything you just said and enters the room when you leave the door to get back in bed. You often did that with him, you don’t know why, but when he asked to come in the room it was just simpler to let him in then say anything. He knew what you meant.

He sits at the edge of the bed as you reclaim your spot in the middle of it, tucked slightly under the covers, but still sitting up. “How was your date?” You try to sound nonchalant and it seems to work. Harry doesn’t notice your tense figure, but you notice how he tenses up when you ask.

“Good…Her name was-” You don’t let him finish, you already know the answer to this next question and you don’t need her name in order to ask it, “Did you fuck her?”

He’s silent, green eyes staring straight at you. You meet his gaze, your eyes almost burning holes into him. His eyes are begging you to not make him answer the question, he doesn’t want this to end, even if he also didn’t want the commitment he had felt himself exhibiting the other night.

When he had come to your room the other night after Mitch had almost caught you, he knew he shouldn’t have stayed. He didn’t want you to feel bad so he had come to apologize, but when the pair of you didn’t have sex, he should have left. But he didn’t, he stayed and it wasn’t for you, it was for himself. It was for him to hold you in his arms because he liked to. But when he woke up the next morning he knew he needed to leave. Solely cuddling wasn’t part of your arrangement together. It’s probably on the list of don'ts that the pair of you had. So after he realized the line he had willingly crossed with you, he quickly sent a text to Jeff who had tried to set him up with a model they were acquaintances with the night before - the reason he had gotten held up. Harry had initially declined, not very interested in seeing anyone else but you. But looking back on that choice in the light of day seemed to solidify what this relationship was - a relationship - and Harry didn’t like that. The commitment wasn’t part of the plan, so he told Jeff to set that date up for after the second show at the Forum and give the woman a ticket. That’s why he was smiling at his phone the morning after only cuddling with you, that’s why he didn’t joke around with you during the show, and that’s why he wasn’t in your bed last night.

You watch him expectantly, silently waiting for his answer, your veins cold as ice. He finally starts his answer and he wants to make it clear that it wasn’t as good with the other woman, but he’s not sure how to work that part in. He’s not sure how to explain to you it meant nothing if your arrangement also apparently meant nothing. You barely even let him get in a sentence. “Yes, but it was just a one time-”

“Alright.”

“What?” He doesn’t understand what you mean when you nod your head and cut him off.

“I told you at the beginning, Harry. Tell me when you sleep with someone else because when you do this is over. It doesn’t matter if she’s the love of your life or a one night stand. I will not be a backup plan, so if you’re able to find other people to sleep with, you don’t need to be sleeping with me.”

He sits in silence for a moment, his jaw dropped open slightly. He’s unable to keep it shut as his mind races about what to say. “Are you mad with me?”

“No, I’m fine. This was just sex. Charlotte will be happy that I’ll be going out with her more.”

Harry’s brow furrows as you shift away from him on the bed, grabbing your phone and beginning to flick through it. You feel numb and you’d like to not think about why.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” He asks because he does care about you, worry is written all over his face. He just can’t commit, not now.

“What would I be mad about, Harry?” You look up and your eyes widen at him, silently asking him to truthfully say why you should be so upset about this revelation. You always knew it would eventually come to an end, you just hadn’t expected so soon. You hadn’t known the last time would be the last time and it broke your heart even if you knew it shouldn’t.

He shifts to reach his hand out to touch your exposed knee. You move away from him and he sighs, looking exasperated. “I- I don’t know. It just seems like we should talk about this.”

“You didn’t even think it was necessary to tell me you were going on a date last night, so I think it’s best if we just left it at ‘it’s fine, see you around’.”

He spreads his hands out across the sheets, examining his rings and painted nails thoroughly. You’re right, he doesn’t really want to talk about this. Well, more so, he’s conflicted. He would like to talk enough that you want to continue your arrangement but he doesn’t want to talk about feelings or emotions. Even if he has those feelings and emotions, they’re just not part of the things he’d like to talk about. “But-” You set your phone down at his first word, “Were you even going to tell me you fucked someone else today if Charlotte hadn’t asked you if it was a date last night? Would you just have come to my room tonight and acted like nothing had changed?”

“I would have told you.”

“Sure.”

“I swear I would’ve. I would never break a promise to you.”

“But you would make a decision that affects the both of us without telling me until afterwards?” Your voice breaks a little and you beg yourself not to cry right now.

“I thought you said this was just sex?”

You laugh humorlessly, in disbelief, “Of course it’s not, Harry! And it hasn’t been for a long time and that’s why you got scared and went and fucked someone else.” He looks at you blankly, unsure what to say, knowing you’re right. You continue, “But I also told you at the beginning of this, that I wasn’t going to try to change you. So this is me not trying to change you.” You sigh when he still says nothing, his expression completely unreadable, even to you. “Why couldn’t you have left it at ‘it’s fine’?” You say finally, barely above a whisper.

He blinks a few times after your final question. He flexes his hand one more time and then stands up from the bed. He adjusts his clothes and stares at you. You feel helpless, but you’re still trying to look pulled together, even after your outburst. You stare back. A thousand words floating through your heads, all the things you want to say and likely never will.

“I know, I’m…” he pauses, trying to get himself to say it, but he can’t. He can’t admit that he’s completely ruined whatever messed up paradise you had created together. “I’ll see you later.”

The apology or lack there of hangs in the air as he walks silently out your door. You don’t move, you barely even blink, still staring at the spot he had just occupied. Your breath finally escapes you, a large sigh. Then some nervous laughter. It was over...just like that. But things like this, left like this are never really over.

-

It’s awkward for a good amount of the rest of the tour. You hang out with your bandmates more and Harry rarely ever comes out with them after the shows. He either hangs out with Mitch on his own or is going out with random people he knows on the road. You and him speak, but it’s never a lot or about anything relatively meaningful. It’s not the fun back and forth of before or the fiery heat of sneaking around. You try to be normal with him, act like his casual friend and bandmate.

He does his best to do the same, but it’s difficult for him. He doesn’t know how to talk to you anymore. He misses being with you, but can’t bring himself to fix it. He doesn’t do much to right his wrongs with you. He also doesn’t even know what he would want if he did apologize. It scared him to think about the step that came after ‘sorry’ so he saved himself the trouble and never did that part either. One night he texts you: “I’m trying, it’s just hard.” and that’s it. You don’t give him a response, he doesn’t need one. You know he’s trying and he knows you know.

Near the end of the tour, he comes out with the rest of you for drinks one night. Only Mitch is between the two of you in the booth, so you feel closer to Harry than you’ve felt in a long time. The group of you are chatting and having a good time. You somehow get onto a story from when you were still in college. You explain how you had narrowly avoided getting Chlamydia right before your Christmas break junior year. You act out the conversations you imagined would have happened at all your Christmas events if you had indeed gotten it. Your impressions of your mother, father, and sister have everyone laughing the most. Harry is shaking with laughter from your story and you smile at him in appreciation when he says, “That is the funniest story I’ve heard in a long fucking time.”

The rest of the night goes really well, for the most part. No one bickers or is short with each other. Everyone is laughing and drinks are flowing. Eventually Mitch gets up to go to the bathroom and you feel Harry slide back into the booth closer to you after letting Mitch out. Your hand had taken up residence next to your thigh, resting on the vinyl of the booth. You sense something next to it now and notice Harry’s hand is resting close beside it. He shifts his hand closer when he sees that you’re looking down at it. He’s almost touching you and you look up to his eyes, wondering if he’ll close the distance. He makes an imperceptible shake of his head, but you know what he means. As you’re about to shift your hand so that your pinky connects with his, Mitch returns and your head shoots up to his figure. You instantly remove your hand from the vinyl and shift closer to Charlotte. Harry gets up, but doesn’t sit back down once Mitch is settled. He instead walks off to get another drink, risking one last look at the table where he makes eye contact with you, but he doesn’t come back. Mitch informs everyone that Harry went back to the hotel because “he was tired” after Harry doesn’t return and Mitch gets a text. You roll your eyes, sure that you saw him slip out of the side door with a woman he found at the bar after he had gotten his drink. If that’s what ‘tired’ looked like on Harry, it was fine.

You start to speak to Harry on a more regular basis after that night out. It’s not funny or lighthearted. It’s just ‘I saw this song the other day, thought you might like to listen’. It went back and forth, it wasn’t everyday but it was something. The last text between the two of you before you began sharing songs again was his ‘I’m trying it’s just hard’ text that he had sent randomly one night. Then after one of you would listen, you would see each other at sound check and mention the song and what you thought about it. It can be noted that it was Harry who sent the first song.

For Harryween, Adam couldn’t be there. He has some family emergency the day of and doesn’t come with the rest of you to Madison Square Garden or the hotel you were staying at. Thankfully, Charlotte also plays keys and you can play bass. The band had to shift around some things on stage and make minimal changes to the setlist since you weren’t rehearsed on the covers Harry was doing. You spent the whole day running through the chords of those songs with Mitch, trying to memorize them so you didn’t mess it up during the show.

It was weird because for Harryween the setlist was switched up a little from the regular set for Love On Tour. Harry was playing the entire new album as well as half of the first album, Medicine, some of his other unreleased stuff, and about six covers, including old One Direction songs. It was going to be a long show and a challenge for you.

Before the show, Harry pulls you aside, to a dark corner backstage, and your mind flits back to the last time you had been in this type of position. The last time he had called you ‘love’, the last time you bit his earlobe - which always drove him crazy, the last time he ground his hips against yours, those and more and you had no idea that it was the last. By then you had already had sex with Harry for the last time, kissed his lips for the last time. It made your heart race to be so close to him and so alone once again. But it’s nowhere near the same as it once was. You shake the memories from your mind and look up expectantly at him.

“Have you got this?” He asks seriously, tone concerned. Of course it’s a music question, nothing more. Like it always was now.

“Yeah, of course.” His stare is unwavering and you try not to falter from it.

“I can get someone else to cover tomorrow, it was just such a short notice today. You know bass really well too, it made sense.”

“I’ve got this. Seriously, don’t worry, Harold.” You pat his chest lightly and for once Harry smiles at the sound of your nickname for him. You had stopped using it after the end of your arrangement. It never felt right to use when you were talking about music, and that was about the only time you had been talking. In this moment though, it felt right. His warm, large hands held your upper arms as you stared up into his big eyes. You missed staring into them, the shimmering emerald of his irises were constantly intriguing. You instinctively reach up to move back a curl that has fallen onto his forehead. He doesn’t shy away from your touch and continues to smile down at you.

“Y’haven’t called me that in forever.” He grins, his lips a shiny pink from the lip balm he had on.

“No, I suppose I haven’t. But where was the groan? The whole point is to annoy you.” You smile coyly. He tips his head back and laughs, releasing your arms from his grasp as he laughs wholeheartedly.

Then he does a soft groan, a playful sound, “How was that?”

“Eh. I’ll give you a four out of ten. Not enough emotion behind it.” You slide from the area the two of you have been occupying and make your way onto the stage to start dealing with the bass you would be playing. You hear Harry call out to you, “I think I deserve at least a five, maybe even a six!” You turn back for a second to look at him with an unimpressed expression and shake your head no. He laughs again and you hear him even when you walk out onto the stage. You smile to yourself as you pick up the bass.

When he introduces the band, he waits to talk about you last. “And sadly this evening Mr. Adam Prentergest, our usual fabulous bassist, was unable to attend our fancy dress party! However! Our lovely Y/N L/N is also a superb bassist and was kind enough to step into his place. - Anything to add?” He saunters across the stage to you and you laugh kindly, feeling at ease in this part of the stage even though you were usually on the opposite side and further back from the crowd. You nod at Harry and he leans his portable mic towards your lips. You wet them quickly and eye Harry before turning out to the crowd. “Just please go easy on me if the bass sounds a bit wonky. It wasn’t on the job description that I’d be playing songs I didn’t know, with a few hours notice, on not my main instrument.” You say this in a kind of list format, holding up your fingers as you tick off all the ways that this was out of your comfort zone. You scratch your head dramatically after you’re finished and the whole crowd laughs and cheers. The rest of your bandmates chuckle along and Harry nods and smiles at you.

“You’ll do great, love.” He leans into your ear and says without the microphone. Then he winks and turns to go back to the center of the stage. You press your lips together to contain your smile, both happy and concerned about the flip your stomach just did.  

The show is going great. Harry is killing it with the crowd. Everything is electric. You’re entirely focussed on your bass playing, but Harry has been coming over every so often to do something fun or have you tell a joke.

“She’s truly the funniest person I know! And I know a fair amount of people I think.” Harry says as he walks over to you have you tell another joke. Mitch has been looking at you and Harry interacting all night and he’s sure that it isn’t your different position that has him coming over and talking to you so much tonight. Something has definitely changed once again. First the pair of you were always together and having fun, then it was silence and stolen glances that neither of you realized you were taking, now it was back to the beginning.

“That’s because you think puns are part of the top tier levels of comedy.” You say easily, “Here, I can guarantee Harry will love this and the rest of you will likely groan.” Then you stop and act as if you’re thinking for a little, everyone’s waiting expectantly. “Sorry, thinking...Well, I’ve got some skeleton puns I could do, they’re very humerus or y’know classic vampire ones..eh but those ones kind of suck. What do you think, Harry?” You look out at the crowd, face deadpan, as Harry laughs beside you. You roll your eyes playfully and push him back to the center of the stage. Leaning into your own mic now, you say, “I told you.” That’s when everyone laughs. Harry throws another look at you over his shoulder and laughs a little more, his smile wide and eyes bright.

A little over half way through the night, it’s time for ‘to be so lonely’. You already knew the bass chords for it before today and you were confident in yourself by now. It wasn’t as hard a song so you were happy for the little break. This song allowed you to not be looking down at the notes you had stuck to the floor in front of you. Harry’s voice comes in after Mitch’s intro and you watch the way his lips move against his mic. You laugh a little as you watch the crowd yell the first “arrogant son of a bitch” line. You used to not particularly like when people did that, but after it had ended with Harry you had started to enjoy it a bit more. Having those people yell the words you couldn’t, but truly felt about him sometimes, was cathartic. Tonight you weren’t angry with him, but you enjoyed the energy in the room when everyone said it. We’ve all got our own ‘arrogant son of a bitch’ that we want to scream at sometimes. Tonight yours wasn’t Harry for the first time in a long time. The song moves along and Harry takes the microphone off its stand, he walks towards your side of the stage. When the lyrics get to:

“I miss the shape of your lips, your wit, it’s just a trick, this is it so I’m sorry”

Harry isn’t looking at the crowd, he’s looking straight at you. You don’t understand the way he’s looking at you. Or maybe you don’t want to understand it. This song, its lyrics, explains Harry really well. You saw the relationship you had with him in the words. Maybe not precisely, but a part of it was in it. Harry had unknowingly foretold your lives with his words. You know he has trouble connecting and committing, you know his issues, and you accept them. But you knew what had happened between the two of you was far more serious than meaningless sex and you knew Harry couldn’t bring himself to be that serious. He ran off and that was fine, but the face that he couldn’t even apologize hurt you the most. But the song lays it all out for you, he’s not one to be able to apologize quickly. The fact that he looks at you and means the apology he sings in the song for you, it’s a big step, but it’s not enough. The banter, the technical apology, it was all a good start, but it’s just that - the beginning. If Harry wants to make things better with you, a lot more needs to be discussed. So when you sing backing vocals for the following chorus you mean the words for Harry completely.

“Don’t call me baby again, you got your reasons, I know that you’re trying to be friends. I know you mean it, but don’t call me baby again it’s hard for me to go home and be so lonely”

His eyes flick to you again and see your lips moving around the words as you play the bass. He sees the emotion in your face and understands what you’re saying. It’s hard for you to go to your room at night and be alone while he’s out with someone else. It’s hard for him to act like everything’s all fine and perfect, back to normal, because for you it isn’t really. He can’t call you ‘love’ and tell the world you’re funny and expect it to be enough. He can’t sing his sorry that was initially for someone else to you and expect you to accept it. And he knows it, too.

After the show everyone decides they’re exhausted and need to rest before tomorrow. You all planned to celebrate the whole day and you knew it was going to be a wicked Halloween. Knowing this, you’re surprised with the knock on your door after about an hour of being back at the hotel. You’ve given up the habit you had once hoped to cultivate and swing the door open haplessly. Truly having no idea who to expect, you are still surprised to find the man standing before you.

“Mitch.”

“We need to talk.” He stares down at you, his shoulders slumped from tiredness.

“Come in,” you usher him in when you hear the urgency of his voice. He saunters in before you and you close the door. You move to the small couch in the room and sit down. Your hands gesture for him to sit as well, but he shakes his head. He stays standing and brings a hand up to smooth his hair back on the right side. His eyes staying on the floor and flickering up to you every so often.

“What is going on with you and Harry?”

“What do you mean?”

“Oh come on Y/N. You’re seemingly best friends with him for a good portion of tour, then you’re barely on speaking terms for the second half, now you’re joking around again. What is going on?”

You sit there in a stunned silence, “I don’t know what to say.” Your arms go to hug your body, feeling anxious about being confronted about this topic.

“Were you seeing each other?” His voice is soft, eyes taking in your body language and knowing it’s a difficult topic.

“I wouldn’t put it like that…”

He holds back the ‘I knew it’ statement because of  how sullen you look, b..ut in his mind all of the pieces he had watched unfold came to fit in a perfect puzzle. He decides to sit beside you when you don’t say anything else.

“We were having sex,” it felt weird to say it out loud, no one but you and Harry had actually known, “But it ended. I don’t know what today was...but it felt different than how it’s been.”

“Why are you so sad if it was just sex?” He places a hand on your shoulder and your tear-filled eyes meet his. “Oh…” He knows why.

“I’m sorry, Y/N.” You sob at his apology because he’s not the one who should be at your door apologizing. You sniffle and lean your head into his chest. He takes you into his arms and holds you as your cries become muffled sounds in his shirt.

You cry without words for a few minutes, Mitch coos some soothing words, his voice soft and kind. He was always a good shoulder to cry on for all of your bandmates, he was extremely strong and you made a mental note to thank him thoroughly when you actually were capable of forming coherent thoughts. “I’ve never told anyone before. It feels so weird even saying it out loud,” you say as you pull back from Mitch’s embrace. You're thankful his shirt is black, no tear stains can be made out.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asks gently, gauging your reaction. You wipe at your eyes and nod.

Taking a deep breath, you decide to start from the beginning. “Do you remember the party Charlotte had a week before we left for tour?”

Mitch nods and his eyes widen at what you’re saying as he remembers the night. “It started back then?” He’s unable to contain his incredulous question. He had suspected something, but hadn’t thought it had been going on for that long. He was truly astounded. You nod, “Well sort of,” then you go on to recount the last couple of months. All the way up until the Forum shows. “That night, when I opened Harry’s door and it was you standing there...Harry and I didn’t have anything to discuss. It was just…” Mitch nods again. He hadn’t spoken much since you had gotten into the story, wanting to let you be in charge of what you were saying and believing he could probably ask questions at the end. “Then the next night he blew me off for his date with that model and I cried in the elevator because I knew what was going to happen next.”

“So that’s when it ended?” Mitch asks when you don’t speak for a rather extended period of time.

“Yeah, the next morning he came over and I asked if they had sex and he said yes so I told him it was over.”

“But I don’t get why he went out with that model. He had told me she wasn’t his type the night before…” Your eyes shot up and looked at Mitch. His eyes widened when he realized what he said.

“What?”

“When we were talking about Canyon Moon, he mentioned that Jeff had tried to set him up with some woman but he had declined. Said he wasn’t interested. I don’t get what changed between then and the next morning.” He figured it was best to put all the cards out on the table right now. You’d be going your separate ways for a while, now that the tour was over and he had seen how unhappy both you and Harry had been over the last part of the tour.

You shift your leg to have it folded beneath you as you continue to stare at Mitch. “He came over after you and him had your meeting,”  you say quietly. Mitch hums, waiting for you to continue this time.

“He apologized for choosing you over me to talk to. Then we slept together, but we didn’t have sex...I think that’s what wigged him. It had felt too real, sleeping in the same bed with me without having sex beforehand made it feel like something more than just two people fulfilling needs.” Mitch nods and sighs heavily. He looks around the room and then back to you, taking in your full appearance. Again he feels terrible for you, how he had felt the second night at the Forum even though he hadn’t known the full story yet. “Now we’re here.”

“Tonight, it felt like he was trying,” Mitch finally said and you smiled sweetly, thinking back to Harry’s behavior. No matter how far from him you were, all those good feelings you associated with him never went away.

“Yeah, it’s been getting better. He texted me once saying he was trying. Then he came out with us one night and it almost seemed like that would be the night he’d apologize, but then he didn’t. Then we started sharing music with each other again. Then tonight… was tonight. It’s just confusing. He’s confusing.”

Mitch smiles sadly and brings you in for another hug and you’re actually so thankful he

showed up at your door. It was your first time telling anyone all of this, because Harry didn’t even know how you felt about some of these things. It felt amazing to be heard and to be told it was okay to be feeling like this.

Pulling back, Mitch says, “He’s definitely different. But his differences are what make him special and that’s why I think he clings to them even if they sometimes can hurt other people. The fact that he’s trying is a good sign. I hope he can find it in himself to make it right between you two because I had never seen either of you happier than when you were apparently together. Especially those few weeks leading up to Los Angeles. Sarah had kept asking me why Harry was so smiley back then. When I had asked him, he had just said “have you ever found something and realized you wanted to keep it with you forever?” I had no idea what he had meant, but I feel like he meant you now.”

Your awestruck at what Mitch has just told you. He was right about the first part about Harry trying to change, but the last bit, that’s what had left you speechless. You turn your body to face the rest of the room and put your chin against your hand as you think.

“Mitch...I have to go.”

He understands what you mean and you walk out of the door with him. He walks down the hall to his room and you walk quickly past the elevator and opt for the stairs. Before you know it you’re running up the stairs, taking two at a time even though you’re not the most athletically inclined. You can’t stand to wait for the elevator and your mind is racing.

You knock on the door that is Harry’s after reaching his floor. It swings open and reveals a confused and sleepy Harry. Thankfully he’s still fully dressed because that would have been a whole other problem you would have if he hadn’t been. You push past him and walk straight into his room without any invitation. He follows behind you, still unsure of why you’ve come here.

“Have you ever found something and realized you want to keep it forever?” You ask him, repeating the words Mitch had just told you.

“Pardon?”

“You told Mitch that about me before we ended things. If that’s how you felt, why didn’t you do what you said?”

Harry sighs as the words register in his mind. The memory of when he had smiled at Mitch so giddily and asked the vague question, his thoughts only of you as he asked it. The shit-eating grin he had plastered on his face after Mitch had looked at him confusedly flitted across his mind. As well as the way he had gone to his dressing room and had a quickie with you after that conversation.

“It’s not that simple…”

“It is, Harry! Why can’t you just be honest with me for once?”

“Okay, fine. You want me to be honest?” you nod at his harsh tone. The two of you standing only a few feet apart. “You have no goddamn idea what you do to me, when I’m around you, I have no control of my emotions or of my thoughts. I pushed you away because I didn’t like feeling out of control. I got out because what had started as a fun time had turned into me longing to be with you every waking hour. I found myself not caring what we did as long as I got to hold you and be around you, but that wasn’t part of the plan.”

“Plans can change, Harry.”

You step closer to him and he meets your eyes. He had left his music playing softly on his phone before he had opened the door so now as the two of you stared at each other, he must have been playing his Etta James playlist because her voice faded out of the song “I’d Rather Go Blind” and straight into “A Sunday Kind of Love”. Harry had shared her At Last album with you over the Christmas holiday of last year and you had decided to listen to her entire discography afterwards, so you knew the songs. The transition was a little too on the nose and you wondered if Spotify ever listened to your conversations.

His emerald eyes examine your face and take inventory of your features, measuring whether anything had changed since he had looked at you this close up. Your hand goes up to cup his cheek and he nuzzles into it, dropping his head closer to you ever so slightly and closing his eyes at the feeling of you.

“I am sorry,” he whispers earnestly as he reopens his eyes.

You can’t take your eyes off of him even if you tried. He looks so soft in the moment, so vulnerable in this light as the music swells in the corner of the room. Etta sings about how she needs a love that is going to last as the pair of you inch yourselves closer together.

“I forgive you, Harry,” you whisper back.

He nudges his head further down and your lips finally press together, slotting back together after months apart. Your lips are eager to press back against their favorite companion. You oblige them, but pull back for a second, just far enough to say, “I will always forgive you, so long as you tell me when you’re scared so we can work through it together.”

He nods, “I promise to never let you go again.” Before taking you back against his lips and gathering your body up in his arms. His lips missing yours just as much.

-

[hollandsmushroom]

could i request a boyfriend!peter fic where reader comes out to him as bi and genderfluid, but they're so nervous to do so cos they havent told anyone else and he is rlly supportive? and helps them get new clothes and cut their hair? and its fluffy and hugs and stuff?

if u dont feel comfy writing this, its ok i totally understand :) i just love ur writing so much <3

Be True To Yourself || P.P.

Peter Parker x afab(previously using she/her pronouns)Genderfluid!Reader

Word Count: 1375(I am pretty sure this is my fave thing I have every written)

Warnings: Fluff, the pain of coming out, fear, anxiety, brief mentions of break up(in passing not with intent) and I swear to fucking god, if anyone comes in my inbox angry that I didn’t trigger tag this for lgbtq content i will scream so loud your ear drums burst. 

A/N: So I don’t really talk about this much on here but I am a mostly gender nonconforming They/she, I come from a very very lgbtg family, I am a safe place, I promise!

♡✩♡✩♡✩♡✩♡

It was something about yourself that caused turmoil, it turned in your stomach as you tried to grapple with who and what you are, you knew that there was nothing wrong with your feelings, how certain forms of gender expression didn't feel right at certain times. Your mind floods with anxious thoughts as you sit on Peter’s bed, waiting for him to get back from patrol, to finally share your true self with the person that you love. Your hands twisting around each other, ringing out in a corporeal demonstration of your gut wrenching worry. 

“Y/n?” Peter’s voice breaking through the metaphysical walls of your disquietude. Your eyes drawing upwards, trailing up the black webs of his red spandex, reaching his face in time to catch as his gloved hand tug at his mask, the eye lens blinking as he pulls off his face covering. The moment seems to soften as you glance at his hair, soft locks expanding from the confines of his secret identity. “What are you doing here?” His speaking again brought you back the reveries of your hands in his hair as you laugh giddily, his body holding yours tight to his as you ignore a movie you were supposed to be watching together. 

“Hi Petey” you smile at him, tenderness in your gaze as you pat the bed next to you, signalling for him to take a seat next to you, a silent queue that he followed with much complacity. “Um, I need to talk to you about something” your eyes ducking down, an action that made Peter’s heart stop, a nervousness spreading through him rapidly as he began to feel much as you did, off kilter, as if his world was tilting beneath him. 

“Y/n, you’re kinda of scaring me” he utters, reaching out for your hand only to find it already entangled, fingers linking with fingers in a never ending exhibition of unease. 

“It’s nothing to be scared of, Petey, well I might need to be scared but it's something, well it’s something about me that I need to tell you and I haven’t told anyone and- well, Peter I am scared, I am really fucking scared” you let a tear you didn’t know you had spill, letting it fall down your cheek as you contemplate your words, silently reeling through every option you have on how to voice your being and identity to the person you love with the possibility that it could change how he loves you. 

“My sweet, you know you can tell me anything” he assures, desperately trying to get a grip on the conversation. 

“Peter, I...I can’t be your girlfriend” you murmur, quickly realizing you had chosen your words wrong as you see him freeze out of the corner of your eye, his body going rigid as the beautiful dusted rose drains from his cheeks. 

“Wha-” he starts but you cut him off immediately. 

“I didn’t mean it like that, I want to be with you, I want to be yours but I can’t be your girlfriend because I-I’m not a girl, well I am sometimes and I can be your girlfriend at those times but I’m not that all the time, honestly I am whatever I feel like whenever I feel like it and well, I don’t just like boys, I like girls too, but not just girls and boys, I like everyone but not now obviously because I am with you and I would never ever do anything unfaithful to you no matter how many genders or orientations I am attracted to. Peter I can’t keep pretending to be something that I am not and I don’t want that to change us but I understand if it do-” you start giving him the spiel about how it was okay if he didn’t know how to be with you now that you have become fully yourself but his lips didn’t give you the chance, cutting you off before you could manage to put into words how easy it would be for him to leave when that was the last thing that he wants, no matter what your pronouns or who you found attractive because that didn’t change who he fell in love with, he fell in love with you, not how you expressed yourself, you, his partner, his love. Pulling away your eyes remain closed, processing the amount of emotional knowledge had been lifted from your shoulder, your chest still tightened with the love at the amount of lack lecher passion Peter had let flow into your lips. 

“Nothing could change the way I feel about you, Y/n, nothing in this world” he assures, lips still ghosting over yours as you finally manage to pry your eyes open to meet his chocolate honeyed gaze. “Is there anything that I can do to help you feel more comfortable in your own skin?” He was soft, so gentle a presence that you felt like warm milk on a cold night, he was calming your soul of your innermost turmoil. 

“I was,” you drop your eyes, examining Peter's fluttering pulse that beats at the juncture of his collar bones. “Well I was hoping to go shopping and get a haircut cause how I currently have my hair and how I currently dress doesn’t always make me feel the best” he watches you with an attentive adoration, wanting to learn how to best be your partner and ally while you learn and grow into being fully and comfortably you. “Sometimes I don’t mind it but sometimes isn’t always and in the times its not I feel like my own existence makes me itch” 

“Well we can’t have you being itchy” Peter squeezes your hips softly, tugging you closer to him as you fall back on the bed. “So I guess we shall have to go to the mall this weekend, get you a haircut, some new clothes, sound like a plan?” Peter offers and you smile unabashedly.

“The best plan” you nod sleepily into his chest, forehead grazing the emblem on his suit as you let your eyes fall shut, absolutely exhausted from the emotional strain of baring your soul to the person you love most with a possibility of getting it spat back at you, but Peter would never, he loved you more than he could understand, more than he cared to, not wanting to taint the complexities of his adoration for you with the binary idea that he could ever understand something so powerful and all encompassing. 

---------------

You stood in front of a rack of t-shirts, hangers dawned with fun patterned graphic tees as you, searching for something new to complete your style, something that felt more true to you when you didn’t feel like wearing any of the clothes that you already owned, something that would go along well with the way your hair was now styled. Peter was not standing with you, having wandered off minutes before to go find something that he thought you would enjoy. The feeling of someone near you making you turn to face where the sensation was coming from, your eyes finding your grinning boyfriend. I

"I have an idea!" Peter smiles excitedly, bouncing on the balls of his feet as he fiddles with a pack of bracelets in his hand. "So um, I was thinking we could assign each bracelet pronouns so I know which ones to use when to use which pronoun" you felt like you were glowing, fully understood for the first time in your life and there is nothing more valuable than that, than feeling totally and completely seen and accepted for who and what you were. Tears flood your eyes without your consent as you smile stupidly back at Peter whose face was falling, hand reaching out to cup your cheek. "Baby, did I say something wrong?" you shook your head, nuzzling deeper into his palm.

"No, no Petey, I just feel good in my own skin for once in my life" you blubber.

"I just want my partner to be happy" his thumb brushes over your orbital bone, wiping away a fallen tear. "Because I love them with everything I have”

“I love you too Petey, so much”

let me know what you thought

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