#im not confident enough about it to like. send it to anyone for them to check if its fine lmao

[jonny-b-meowborn]

I think I'm done with the Jonny/Tim cannibalism fanfic? I'm still gonna like, read though it a few times and edit it, and I still wanna do some drawings for it before I share it, but overall I'm pretty satisfied with it. Big win for the me community

[draconic-desire]

Gosh i just loved your Sunday fic.. 😫

Im wondering what about a naive type darling? With so much isolation, it has made darling insecure. Darling thinks Sunday deserves a better woman and just ups and leaves Sunday when he isnt home. But ofc is soon found not long after 😋

ohhhh so personally i imagine this happening after sunday uses the harmony one too many times on poor reader…you never saw it coming, never would have thought sunday would hurt you despite being isolated for so long. any thoughts you had about escaping, even going outside to see friends, are obliterated. sunday becomes your whole world.

Yan!Sunday x Naive!Gn!Reader

You’ve been standing in front of Sunday’s door, fist raised and poised to knock, for twenty minutes now.

For what feels like the millionth time, you lower your hand, worrying your lip.

He’s been in there all day. Sunday is a busy man, his schedule constantly filled with meetings and Family affairs, but never too occupied that he would ignore you for an entire day.

Your mind fears the worst; even those initial days of being drowned in the Harmony, before you realized Sunday was trying to help you adjust to your life with him, is preferable to this. Did you do something wrong? Who is he in there with? Is he ignoring you?

Has he…grown tired of you?

The mere thought chills your heart and fills your veins with ice as you take a step back, inhaling sharply.

The wooden door before you is polished to a fault, bright enough that you can see your faint outline. It bitterly reminds you of how inferior you are compared to him, a mere speck of dust, a fleeting shadow on the wall.

You start to spiral. Surely Sunday, the most handsome and sought after man in Penacony, could have his pick of anyone—so why would he settle on you? Why did he bring you here, trap you in this mansion, keep you by his side, if only to throw you away in the end?

Did he never love you?

Why does that thought hurt you so much?

Heart pounding and tears blurring your vision, you quickly turn and flee, your knock forgotten.

~*~

It has long grown dark on the streets of the Golden Hour.

The normally bustling city is slumbering, the only light provided by the plethora of flashing billboards that never sleep. The few individuals you have passed are either drunks stumbling home or the stray Intellitron. You’ve been walking aimlessly for hours, wiping away tears and fruitlessly searching for a way to escape to reality.

After all your time mulling in your sadness and insecurities, you have come to the conclusion that you should relieve Sunday of his care of you. He’s much better off without you, or rather with a better individual than you. He should be dating royalty, a celebrity, an angel. The type of person who would have knocked on that door, would have strutted confidently into his office and sat directly into his lap to—

Another pair of footsteps echo behind you.

You almost don’t hear them at first, but you most definitely see the haloed shadow on the wall in front of you.

“And where do you think you’re going, (Y/n)?”

You immediately freeze, your breathing becoming erratic and shallow. His voice sends little butterflies pounding against your chest, begging to fly to him.

“Do you really think this pathetic attempt to escape would succeed?” A hand wraps around your waist, spinning you around to meet golden eyes rimmed in violet. You expect them to be filled with anger, perhaps even loathing, but you’re shocked to discover they are brimming with nothing but thinly veiled panic.

His grip tightens when you don’t respond immediately. “Answer me, (Y/n).” His voice cracks as he says your name again. “Where have you been?”

Words clog in your throat. “I—I thought—you were—you didn’t want—”

“I’ve been searching everywhere for you. You weren’t thinking. I believed we had moved beyond your futile attempts to leave, that you understood that you are mine—”

“But what if I don’t deserve to be yours!”

The two of you freeze in the wake of your outburst. His breath hitches as you lower your head and whisper softly, “I thought you stopped loving me the same as I love you.”

For once, you’ve caught Sunday off guard. His beautiful gaze widens in shock as he truly takes in your form—shivering, tears rolling down your cheeks, nails digging into your palms—and realizes his mistake.

You left because you thought he didn’t want you.

The mere idea baffles him. Standing before him is the most beautiful individual he has ever seen. Every fiber of his being screams for him to lock you in a birdcage and throw away the key—you are a precious treasure, meant to sing only for him. He has created you to be the perfect devotee in his very image.

And all of his efforts have succeeded, because you said you loved him.

His anger and fear immediately melt into softness as he holds your face between both hands, his forehead lowered to press against yours. “Oh, darling, no. You cannot fathom the adoration I harbor for you, the multitude of praises I wish to preach each day in your name.”

His voice takes on a nearly holy reverence, but his eyes shine with an untamed desire. “There is nowhere you belong except for by my side. Finding you missing this evening nearly tore my heart out. You must never venture out again, do you understand, my precious dove?”

You sniff and lean into his touch, a smile parting the river of your tears. Yes, that’s right. That’s what the Harmony said before, too: your purpose is to please Sunday, to serve Sunday, to live for Sunday.

Why would you ever doubt his love?

Why would you ever want to leave him? What a silly idea.

You think you feel a tiny pull at the back of your mind, a hook that wants to tether you to reality. But a quick slash of a knife severs the line, leaving you floating in a sea of multicolored bliss.

“I’ll never doubt you again, Sunday. I love you.”

Sunday’s lips curl into a smirk as he lifts your chin and examines the rainbows dancing in your eyes. “I love you, too, (Y/n).”

[kaily010]

Lets play~

(Alastor x reader)

Description: You're Lilith's younger daughter. While Charlie was the perfect child, you never seemed to be good enough. Well, after she disappeared, you made up your mind when you found out her secret....

You walked down the streets of hell, watching sinners and demons reaction to noticing you. You were the younger daughter of the morningstars, so it was no surprise to you to see them cower or run away.

But you couldn't think of this right now.

You had a mission, a place to be. You needed to find someone. Someone that you knew, all so well, would share your interest.

You walked through Cannibaltown, seeing corpses being consumed while the sickening sound of riping flesh and pained whimpers could be heard.

The poor soul that fell victim to a cannibal on your left seemed to be still alive. You sighted but didn't interfere.

That wasn't your job, and it would do you no good to be known as merciful. You needed to be tough. Otherwise, the reputation you build up over all these years would be for nothing. No one would respect the second princess of hell when she had mercy for someone as low in rank as that demon. Well, at least not in hell.

While you thought about that, trying to be as heartless as possible, you reached your destination. Rosie's establishment.

You knew, for a matter of fact, that the radio demon would be there. After sending out your little shadow spies, you knew when he would be here. You also just could've walked straight up to the hotel and asked him there, but that wouldn't work with your sister there.

You didn't want her to know anything about what would be happening.

You entered the store, even though the sing outside said 'closed'. You looked around a bit till Rosie approached you.

"Hello your Highness, how can I help you?"

She clearly was annoyed that you disturbed the little tea party of hers, but you couldn't care less.

"I was searching for someone. He should be your guest at the moment, Alastor. I need to talk to him!"

You answered her question confidently, watching her facial expressions change to a surprised one.

"Uhmm, yeah, sure, would you like some tea while discussing whatever brings you here?"

You simply nod, following here to a room upstairs, caring yourself with as much grace and confidence you could bring up. You had to hold up the act at any cost. Otherwise, it could be used against you. Even though nobody down here would dare do that, you wanted to be sure. She was everywhere, always watching.

As we entered the room she led me to, I looked around. There was a table near a huge window which led to a balcony. Tea cups and cake placed on it.

When my eyes wandered up, I met his gaze. He grinned smugly at me, almost as if he knew already why I was here.

"Greetings! How can I help you your highness?~"

"I have something to discuss with you."

I looked over my shoulder and glanced at Rosie. She nodded and left, and I sat down on the opposite side of the table.

"I want to make a deal with you."

I watched as his eyes widened, and it looked like he was surprised.

"Well, I certently did expect that.... May I ask why you, out of all hellish kind, would need my help?"

I sighted. This was the moment everything would change. If I say it out loud, I wouldn't be able to take it back. I had to decide whether I really wanted this and wanted revenge for what has been taken from me. Whit the magic I held, I quickly send out my shadows to make sure no one other would hear what I was about to say.

"I know why you've been absent for so long."

He froze in place, smile still remaining but looking as if it was fake, as if it had dropped if it could. But he couldn't. He couldn't allow anyone to see behind his masquerade.

"I know who you made a deal with, and I want to destroy her as much as you want to. I can help you get free from your chains if you help me achieve my revenge."

"My dear.... I'm afraid you don't know what you're saying. As much as I wish you'd speak the truth, im afraid that what you desire can't be accomplished. Not from you or me."

"You don't know everything. She might be stronger in power, but that doesn't mean it's not worth a shot. I guarantee you that I'll make sure you won't get hurt and that in the end, if everything works out as planned, we'll both be finally free from the misery her existence brings us."

I watched as the gears in his head worked while he looked down on his tea. It was risky for both of us. But I had nothing to lose, and from what I knew, he didn't either. I held my hand out, waiting how he would decide as I spoke.

"So what do you say? Are you willing to play this game with me?"

He sighted.

"How could I resist a good game?"

He took me hand and green, and red light illuminated the room.

----------------------------------------------

An: heyy ok so this the best I could do and I hope you like it. I don't know if I will continue this but we'll see what comes next.... take care<3

[akutasoda]

how do you think Jouno, Tecchou (and anyone else you want to add) would be with an S/o that doesn't stand up for themselves?

Your writing is amazing <:

how do i keep going?

synopsis - you never really stood up for yourself, and as your lover they can't have that whem you're so amazing

includes - fyodor, jouno, tecchou, ayatsuji

warnings - gn!reader, fluff, comfort, small talk of being taking advantage of, brief mentions of bullying, threats, wc - 691

a/n: ahhh tysm anon! all i could think about when writing this was 'they asked for no pickles' im so sorry

fyodor dostoevsky ★↷

↪fyodor wasn't exactly know for his communication skills, he preferred to be left to his own devices but he would absolutely not tolerate someone talking down on him or trying to take advantage of him. and same would go for you.

↪you were part of a very exclusive group, even more so as his lover, to see the slight softer side he normally kept shadowed away. and seeing youe hesitance to stand up for yourself in any given scenario kind of ticked him the wrong way. you were practically perfect as can be in his eyes why do you tolerate it?

↪he's not the greatest when it comes to emotions but would try his hardest to understand why you would let that happen, whatever the reason would support you in his own weird way. would try and convince you to atleast try to stand up for yourself once.

↪he wouldn't, or try his hardest not to, intervene unless it got bad or really started to annoy him. and would understand if you don't talk about it with him, again he wasn't that good with emotions either. although you seemed to notice that you were left alone more often. weird, almost as if something scared them away huh.

saigiku jouno ★↷

↪very confident person definitely and would absolutely not stand people trying to take advantage of him. so seeing you letting it happen and not sticking up for yourself would leave him confused and slightly annoyed. not at you however.

↪he would kind of understand why you might let it happen but would want to try and encourage you to stick up for yourself. sure he could do it for you and sometimes he would but he knows that you're amazing and more than capable of sticking up for yourself.

↪death glares and threats. he isn't the interrogation specialist for nothing. eventually you might start to notice a decrease in things bothering you, and if you know it's him you might have to tell him to stop before he gets in trouble.

tecchou suehiro ★↷

↪he may not be the most vocal person, opting to stay quiet for some time but that doesn't mean he wouldn't stand up for himself. so seeing you not standing up for yourself and either letting people make fun of you or take advantage of your kind nature would confuse him.

↪why wouldn't you want to stand up for yourself? and maybe not until you would open up to him would he realise why. or he would figure it out on his own but wouldn't pry about it until he truly had to intervene or you finally talked to him about it.

↪but that wouldn't stop him from doing something about it himself. if he was in the vicinity, which is most likely, he wouldn't physically do anything apart from send death glares and take you else where.

↪he knew you were strong enough to take care of your own battles he just silently wishes you would do so more often. you were amazing, you deserved to stand up for yourself. maybe he would try and coax that out of you but if you didn't want to do that that's fone aswell he was always there for you anyway.

yukito ayatsuji ★↷

↪doesn't care what people think. he is well aware if what people think of him and he just doesn't care so that means that he won't tolerate them trying to take advantage of him. he would stick up for himself anytime. so seeing you let people walk over you would weirdly break his heart.

↪why are you not sticking up for yourself? he may figure out why if you don't tell him, so he would understand but that still doesn't help in his confusion.

↪wouldn't stick up for you unless you wanted him to or it got really bad, he wants to let you fight your own battles, he knows you're strong enough to. again would encourage you to do so however.

↪maybe if it got specifically bad and you were still not standing up for yourself he would definitely intervene. he might just get a bit carried away.

[five-hxrgreeves]

im dYIIIINGGGG with the adam warlock x quill sister! when he calls her 'little quill'??? with that accent of his??? so soft and husky??? im screaming at my phone dude aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa i need part iii right freaking now!!!

PAIRING: adam warlock & fem! quill’s sister!reader

POWERS: adapted from D.C.'s Stargirl, although in this instance, the powers are a part of you and the staff just helps you use them.

WC: 1.9k (woo a shorter one this time!) 

SUMMARY: your first meeting with Adam wasn't one that indicated that you'd become friends anytime soon. Your second meeting. . . wasn't great either. But, somewhere along the line, you would develop a soft spot for the curious man-child.

WARNINGS: slight gotg three spoilers, badly written original fight scene, possibly ooc canon!guardians.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: OMG!!! This is my first-ever inbox message- thank you, anon! You made my day with this <3 I love Adam's/Will's accent; I definitely hope that we get to see (and hear) more of him in other Marvel movies. As requested, here's part three (even if it's technically part zero, lol.) I do take requests if anyone wants to send me stuff! (I just won't write smut, sorry!)

I hope you guys enjoy this part, although I'm not very confident about it since I'm terrible at writing fight scenes. It's hard enough for me to imagine original content (like the other two parts) but scenes where people move around a lot without the movie itself to rely on are very difficult for me because my mind doesn't think in pictures, but in words and I don't know how to describe fighting. I'm sorry if this isn't as good as the other parts. 😭

And on a side note, the 'no shit, Captain Sherlock' is another reference to space people messing up Terran lingo :)

Part 1 , Part 2

You were admittedly not in the best mood when you first (officially) met Adam. Peter and Mantis had left only days ago, leaving you to sort out your feelings alone. You were currently in the training room, fueling your sadness into anger at their abandonment. You often used your powers to aid you while you were fighting, but they weren’t much use during everyday life— unless you wanted to fly. Now, however, they were very useful.

Brilliant blasts of golden light shot out from the staff that your hands gripped tightly. While your powers could be used without aid, the staff helped you control them; Ego had made it for you when you’d become old enough to serve as his protector. Although you were disgusted with the weapon’s origins, you couldn’t help but agree that it made your fighting much more effective.

Each of your blasts hit the targets squarely in the middle as you turned deftly to conquer the row. A scowl was prominent on your face as you pictured each of your targets as Peter’s or Mantis’ face. (While you would never really want to hurt them, of course, the sting of their desertion fueled your thoughts.) You were listening to a playlist by the Rage Against the Machine— which you had chosen solely because of the band’s name as it mirrored your feelings. The music that was blasting in your ears was so loud that, if someone had been standing next to you, they could have heard the lyrics as if they were wearing your headphones themselves.

As you moved up and down the line of targets, you were unaware of the audience of three that had entered the room. Groot, Rocket and Adam stopped by the entrance to watch you unleash your fury against whatever enemy you were envisioning. The new leader of the Guardians gestured to you. “There. See? I told you she’s nice.”

Adam hesitated, clearly uncertain. “She looks mad.”

“I am Groot,” Groot agreed.

“Shut up,” Rocket retorted, glaring slightly at the tree who was supposed to be helping his case. “She won’t hurt goldie. You’ve already seen her bad side, haven’t you? This is nuthin’.”

The golden boy had to admit that Rocket was right; he remembered only too well his first encounter with you as you’d jumped in to help your friends fight off his unexpected attack.

--

He’d just defeated the stupid tree-like thing and as it scuttled away like a demented spider, the faint sound of a whistle pierced through the air. An arrow shot out of nowhere, harmlessly bouncing off his skin and only annoying him more than anything else. He looked around sharply, but there didn’t seem to be anyone brave enough to fight him in the vicinity. “Hey! Who threw that?”

He scoffed when there was no answer, stalking towards where he’d last seen his target. But before he could get very far, a force came out of nowhere— this time much stronger than an errant arrow. It knocked him off his feet like a bullet and together they were sent flying through the town, which elicited more cries of fear from the citizens.

He landed harshly against a building that got in the way and debris fell on top of him from the force of the collision. Adam grunted irritably; this was the second time during this fight that his enemy thought that throwing him into a building would be enough to deter his attack— didn’t they ever learn? He stood and shook the dust off his clothes before he strode back out to the street to face this new opponent. Except— it wasn’t the same blue person from before.

The golden boy stared at the other person with disbelief, the only thing that he could come up with was: “you’re a girl!”

She scoffed. “Yeah, no shit, Captain Sherlock.” She twirled the staff in her hands expertly between her fingers before she set the butt down on the ground. It glowed softly as it lit up with her power, her face set. “Let’s do this thing.”

Adam had no qualms about fighting a girl, so they charged at each other without hesitation. He thought she’d be as easy to take down as her teammates but when they collided, she merely used her staff as a shield against his attack. They paced across the open space as they exchanged blows, the girl using her staff offensively and defensively interchangeably. As she flipped neatly out of the way of one of his advances, he began to see how evenly matched they were.

“You are stalling,” he realized. “If you just hand over your friend, we would not have to fight.”

The girl paused, flicking some of her hair out of her eyes. “Oh. Well, in that case—”

She charged at him again, her staff catching on his uniform. She followed him into the air and her swift kick to his stomach sent him tumbling away from her. It was then that he realized that she could fly— just like him— and that was what had powered her initial attack. In the time it took for him to recover from the spin, a blast of golden light was sent his way. Because of his more durable skin, though, the light only felt like volts of electricity rather than something that could do actual damage. The most effective part of her power was the blast itself, which he had to fight through to get closer to her.

Now that he knew where her power came from, he made to attack her staff in order to knock it out of her hands. She seemed to sense his plan— Adam figured most people she fought went this route— and she countered this by trying to fly above him to push him towards the ground. He responded by grabbing the staff in her hands directly while she was mid-swing. The girl was tiring slightly, her breath becoming shorter as the fight went on and she was now on the defensive.

She tried to yank her staff loose from his hold but as evenly matched as they were, he was still stronger. The girl then attempted to shake him off by lighting the staff up with her power. If he hadn’t been such a strong opponent, the golden light would have burned through his hands. As it was, the little volts were barely something that he registered. While he could have easily swung the staff to send her flying off the end and into the ground, he held back the true show of his strength as she didn’t seem to be as resilient as the two blue people or the tree.

Instead, he tried once more for the diplomatic route: “you have fought valiantly for your little friend. If you surrender him to me now I will leave your village in peace.”

The girl’s eyes narrowed with fury as she continued to fight to free her weapon. “Go to hell!”

Adam sighed, having partially expected that response. “Very well. Have it your way, then.”

He smoothly jerked the staff from her grasp and carelessly tossed it to send the weapon spiraling towards the ground. He turned back towards the girl to finish her off as he had her teammates, but he paused. She seemed to hang, suspended, in the air as time appeared to freeze around her. Her eyes widened and, for the first time since he’d encountered her, a look of fear appeared on her face.

Then, she dropped like a stone.

They were very high off the ground by this point and the fall would likely kill a normal being. He wasn’t sure if she would survive, so his reflexes kicked in before he could really think about what he was doing.

By now, the shock had worn off and she fell through the air, she reached up to him as he was the only person who could help her. Adam put on a spurt of speed to try and catch her but she was falling faster than he had anticipated. The girl slammed into the ground and lay still just as he landed next to her. He told himself that saving her wasn’t his mission, and her incapacitation only made obtaining his goal easier. His mother’s orders echoed in his mind, so against his instinct he turned away from her in pursuit of the squirrel.

--

You felt a tap on your shoulder, startling you. You whirled around with your staff in a defensive position only to be met with the sight of your teammates. With a sigh, you pulled out one earbud but didn’t pause your music.

“What?” you asked shortly.

“Don’t you take that tone with me, Little Quill. I’m ya superior now,” Rocket replied, unaffected by your attitude. “I wanted you to meet golden boy here.”

You gave Adam a once-over, ignoring how the sight of his. . . attractive features made your stomach curl pleasantly. “Yeah. We’ve met.”

The boy in question shifted uncomfortably, feeling once again ashamed of his previous actions. Before he could say anything, Rocket spoke again, adjusting the straps of his jumpsuit as he did so: “well, I ain’t great with humie ages, but I figured ya’d be about the same. I thought it might boost team morale to see ya two hangin’ out together or whatever humies your age do.”

While your first response was to dismiss the whole endeavor— you didn’t want to get close to someone else just to have them leave you, too— but a small, traitorous part of your mind whispered: he saved your brother. Another part chimed in: he’s not bad to look at.

“Fine,” you grumbled. “He can stay, but he better not get in my way. I’m not stopping my training because of him.”

“That’s the spirit, Little Quill,” your captain said, choosing to not acknowledge your reluctance. “I’ll leave ‘im in your hands. Let’s go, Groot.”

As you shoved the earbud back in your ear, you could faintly hear Adam’s protest: “wait! You’re not leaving me here, are you?”

While Rocket’s reply was drowned out by your music, the boy’s words hit you unexpectedly; it sounded just like your response to Peter’s and Mantis’ disinclination to stay with the Guardians. Some of your anger faded as you glanced at the boy who stood awkwardly in your periphery. Despite all of his strength and power, Adam looked a bit like a lost puppy and his expression made your features soften against your will. Fine. Whatever. It wouldn’t kill you to be nice.

You took out an earbud again. “Well, don’t just stand there. I know you can fight, so let’s see you use those skills.”

At the reminder of your first encounter, he sent you a guilty look. As he stepped up next to you, he said quietly, “I’m sorry about that, by the way. For almost killing you.”

You patted him on the arm companionably. “Hey, no hard feelings. You’re not the first and you certainly won’t be the last, so just add your name to the list.”

All of the Guardians had forgiven him with surprising readiness and it seemed like you were no different— only, you were. His gaze stayed on the spot where your hand had touched him. There was a lingering warmth as if your hand was still there, the sensation sending tingles (not unlike the ones that he felt during your blasts of power) through him.

Taglist:

@repostingmyfavs , @trashpenguin

[biggest-geo-oogami-enjoyer]

Uhm,,,, may I ask for geo x shy reader (whatever format you want, im just starving for geo content) (´·ω·`)

Diffidence (Geo x Shy! MC/Reader)

Thank you for the ask Anon! I had fun writing this one (albeit, as someone who isn't even remotely shy, I want to apologise if the shyness part seemed inaccurate). Hope you enjoy! :D - Signed by biggest-geo-oogami-enjoyer

Diffidence: modesty or shyness resulting from a lack of self-confidence.

—---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Geo wasn’t the shy type. He never was, nor ever planned to be. Unfortunately, you were.

He never understood how someone as…dare he say…beautiful and smart as you could be so insecure of yourself. Even actively talking yourself down, trying to doll yourself up to appease the gazes of people who’d never appreciate you. Not in the way he did anyway.

When Crowe first introduced you to him, and the others, you tried asking him about Hyugo, about why he even hung out with Crowe and company; and all it took for you to become antsy was a couple seconds of intense eye-contact. Sure, he was irked by the former query, but it didn't mean he was irked by YOU.

It didn’t even register in his head at the time that someone could be as shy as you. But he wasn’t planning on letting others take advantage of it.

He’s seen first-hand how cruel other people at this school can be, and he wasn’t going to let them lay a finger on you (if someone already did, they’re dead)

Everytime someone remotely dodgy approached you, asking for a favour, or for ‘help’ with ‘something’, he’d nonchalantly drag you elsewhere, ensuring that you were again safe. That you didn't have to do anything they requested of you.

He would try to be less cold with you, especially since he was starting to become extremely somewhat fond of you. 

He would make attempts to get you to join the Archery Club, so he could see you more often assist (and subtly praise) you whenever you did well; which was always. You get the bullseye each time. He trains you well. (A bit *too* well some have noticed).

He’d 110% death-stare anyone who tried talking to you after that, didn’t matter if they seemed nice or not, they aren’t trustworthy, not like him.

If you become a target of bullies? They’ll end up hospitalised. Rumours? Person who started them will magically vanish without a trace. He doesn’t care, he’s got enough money to buy this whole city and not make a dent in his funds. The city cops love a good bribe.

Tries to slowly grow closer to you during Archery, hoping that you will warm up to him, become less antsy around him; and eventually (to his unbounding relief), you start talking.

You tell him about your interests, your likes, dislikes, worst fear, what classes you had; and he’s entranced. He doesn’t even care if he spends all day there anymore, he enjoys your voice too much. Also remembers everything you tell him. 

You start talking to him more, and all he can do is relish in the fact that he’s befriending one of the kindest, prettiest, smartest people he’s ever met.

Oh, if you like Crowe? You won’t soon enough, Geo will make sure of that. He won’t harm Crowe’s reputation or try to paint him as a monster, but expect Crowe to become way busier than usual.

Will start randomly muttering compliments to you; sometimes you hear them, to which he denies…but deep down you know he sung your praises, and it fills you with warmth; because you know he isn’t the type to lie to his friends.

“Ugh, Brittney’s so pretty.”

“Not as much as you.”

“Excuse me?”

“You’re excused.” (you’re not).

Will send you a gift on your birthday, Valentine’s Day (he’ll make an exception to hating it if it means seeing you happy), Halloween, Christmas, he doesn’t care. Any occasion to give you something is a good one.

Will ask you out…eventually…maybe in a few decades (jkjk)

But when he does, his stoic face will crack, possibly for the first time ever, and he’ll smile. (You can’t handle it he’s too beautiful)

Will ensure you know how highly he thinks of you every single day, along with letting you be the only person to hold his hand.

Will treasure you. Will tell you secrets after a while, will remind you that you can say how you feel around him, and you better start believing it.

As long as you’re comfortable, safe and happy around him, he's content.

[icallhimjoey]

To Have And To Scold

♥ ♥  Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader

Summary: Your best friends are getting married, and who else can they ask to be their best man and maid of honour but you and Joe? It’s just that… you don’t really get along all that well, do you? At least, that’s what you think.

CW / disclaimer: sort of enemies to sort of lovers (very vague, im sorry, but you’ll see), slow burn, language, drinking, rpf, fem!reader

Author’s note: here’s part 5, may all your questions be answered before we carry on with wedding-themed shit!

Wordcount: 3.3K

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five - part six - part seven - part eight - part nine - part ten - epilogue

It was a thing of self-deprivation.

To protect himself. His friendship with Poppy. You.

Deep breaths. Inhale, hold, exhale. Eyes closed. In through his nose, out through his mouth. Deep breaths always helped.

Distance helped too, in all senses of the word. Stay away. Always a couple of feet in between the two of you. He couldn’t let you get to know each other better – not that he hadn’t learnt too much already. Mark and Poppy never fucking shut up about you.

He just couldn’t let you get close, just… he needed distance. Distance kept it safe, so he’d keep you at an arms-length, always.

It was already all too fucked up.

When you looked at him, it was like a gun went off inside of him. Hardly able to move, or even breathe, you made everything a struggle.

And you were so aloof about it, too?

It honestly angered him.

You acted like it was absolutely normal to move all slow and seductive around him, like you weren’t driving him absolutely insane.

If Joe looked at you too long, he’d find himself involuntarily groaning at your features, and Jesus Christ, how tempting was it to just never move on from you? Despite knowing that even just thinking of going there could fuck everything up.

You were so incredibly off-limits, it was nauseating.  

Not that anyone had told him you were. Except Mark, that one time.

He'd only just been looking. Maybe for too long, but still, it had just been looks. Mark had caught him, made eye-contact and slowly shook his head as he frowned.

Enough said. Joe understood. 

It was just a look, but Mark had seen right through him, and Joe despised how he carried his emotions in his features for everyone to see. Should really learn to keep some just inside his head. Inside his chest, where only his ribs could feel.

Inhale, hold, exhale.

You were best friends with Mark. Friends like Joe and Poppy were friends. Maybe even better friends than that, although, Joe didn’t know what that could even look like.

Surely one step up would be dating, and, although he loved Poppy with all his heart, dating her seemed like a nightmare. He loved Poppy like he’d love a sister. It was the type of love where you could get livid with each other one minute, be screaming and slamming doors, and the next, ask them what they’d want for takeout, apologies not even on the table because they were completely unnecessary. It was a thing of beauty and something he couldn’t imagine doing without.  

Oh God, even trying to think about how he’d cope with anything without the security of his Poppy there was enough to send him spiraling.  

So, what if he tried something with you, and then, it not working out? 

Poppy and Mark were getting married.  

You were in Mark and Poppy’s life for the long-haul. You and Mark were presumably better friends than he and Poppy were. Sometimes Poppy would rant about it for a minute, and Joe’d have to listen to her go on about how her fiancé was having drinks with a beautiful woman that he’d confide in. That he would talk to about Poppy. Would complain to about her.

And she trusted Mark, because he trusted her too, but Jesus, Poppy was allowed to be jealous, wasn’t she?  

Joe understood. 

Not because of his friendship with Poppy. He understood because he felt just as fucking jealous. Poppy would be sulking over Mark hanging out with you so often, whilst Joe would secretly be sulking over you hanging out with Mark.

Not that he’d actually want to hang out with you. 

Because he couldn’t. You were off-limits like that. 

But in another world? He’d have snagged you up ages ago. Would’ve charmed you right off your feet. Would’ve pulled every single trick he knew to pull you in and he’d never fucking let you go. You would actually know he’d want you, because he’d be so up front about it. Wouldn’t fucking hold back, because, fucking hell, he was down so bad for you, it was really working his mental-health if he was being honest.  

But you were Mark’s best friend. 

The repercussions if things were to ever go wrong were catastrophically large. He’d bite himself in the arse, shoot himself in both feet, because losing you would simultaneously mean losing Poppy. 

And it wasn't like you were into him anyway. Joe’d made sure of that from the beginning. And for some unknown stupid reason, that only made everything so much worse.

Deep breaths, Joe. Come on.

Joe had had crushes before, had girls make his heart flutter and tighten the muscles in his lower stomach with just a glance his way. But he’d never been quite as terrified as he was now. Everything about you scared the living daylight out of him.

Joe scared himself when he would often try to think of red flags in you, things wrong that could give him the ick enough for his mind to cool down a little. But Joe was absolutely weak for you, and every bad habit he could think you’d have, his brain automatically would make okay.

So, you were stubborn, just like Poppy.

But that just meant you knew what you wanted. You were steadfast. Were strong like that. Weren’t going to let someone just mess with you.

Like Joe.

You were close to Mark, and Mark was close to Poppy, and Poppy was close to Joe, but it seemed like those ties connecting you didn't matter - if Joe was cold to you, you were cold right back.

Joe deserved that, he knew.

And it helped the self-deprivation.

The distance.

Joe deserved whatever you'd throw at him, because he knew it was only reactions to what he'd throw at you.

It just wasn’t what you deserved. 

He wasn’t what you deserved.

Joe knew you knew it too.

He was a selfish man. Joe’s time and attention went to himself and the things he loved, and you deserved more than selfishness from people around you. If the shoe had been on the other foot, if you'd been the selfish one, Joe knew he’d dive right in and he’d suffer for you. He’d suffer all his life if it meant he’d got to at least spend some of it loving you and have you love him in return the way he'd want you to love him.

God fucking damn it, you were responsible for so many sleepless nights, you had no idea. And it only got worse when his best friend forced you to collaborate. To actually communicate. To invite you into his home, where all of his things were and where there was nowhere for him to hide.

Where he learnt things about you he hadn't yet heard from Poppy or Mark.

You'd shown up comfortable and cosy and it reeked of a level of confidence he knew he'd never even be close to touching. Especially not around you. Joe fucking dressed up for your meeting at his house. Had gone through outfits like a teenage girl would ahead of something important, like, oh Joe didn't know, going to wherever they might run into their crush, Joe imagined.

And you'd just sat down at the kitchen island. Deemed that spot perfect for what you were there for, even though Joe had gone and tidied, cleaned and vacuumed the living and the dining room. He'd even gotten an interior mist that he'd sprayed all over his curtains so that, if he were to casually get up to close them, the place would smell of fresh jasmine flowers.

He'd stacked his fridge with nice wine.

Made sure he had the best coffee ready for you.

And then you just wanted a little bit of water, and Joe mentally cursed at himself because, what the fuck was he doing?

In an attempt to appear as casual as you had, he'd undone his tie a little and had rolled up the sleeves of his shirt and he'd seen you look. Thought you could see right through him which made Joe eat himself alive, nerves heightening all senses and Joe had to really work to hide his sweaty palms from you.

He'd tried to be normal.

Crack a joke or two.

But the focus he had on how to keep himself in check, how to move in front of you, how to feign normalcy but keep enough distance - it meant he'd lost how to sense where your boundaries were.

Anything said with sarcasm without that comfortable layer of friendship was just plain old bullying, wasn't it? Crossed real boundaries, didn't it?

So he'd fucked up, and then, he'd immediately panicked.

Had to close the distance somewhat to make up for it.

Had to go sit down next to you, so you could be normal people who had to do a normal job.

Had to fix it by tearing down a wall of his own.

And it worked. Because you turned and moved back towards him.

Sat down next to him.

And you'd gotten the actual work done, sat side by side at the kitchen island. You worked efficiently, were very organised and knowledgable in ways Joe hadn't expected from you. These were things he hadn't learnt from Poppy or Mark yet, and he cherished that he got to learn these things by himself. Got to witness your traits up close, in his own house, mere inches away from him.

But the whole time he'd sat next to you at his kitchen island, half of him had wished that he wasn't sat next to you at his kitchen island.

Because from here he could feel your body heat radiate, and it tingled his skin that was closest to you.

From here he could smell your perfume, and it was the type of shit he'd dream of later.

And every so often you'd lean closer to scroll through his phone that was laid on the counter, and Joe would have to close his eyes and mentally pull himself together. Make sure no stuttered breathing, or, Joe's worst nightmare, actual moans accidentally slipped out.

Because he could feel them.

Back of his throat.

Later, he'd tell them. He'd get them out later, in the privacy of his shower, or his bed.

After you'd left, Joe was stuck in his hallway for a while. Didn't really seem to able to move from his spot, his feet nailed to the floor, like he'd been hypnotized to believe he was stuck in quicksand. Knew that when he'd move, he'd just sink deeper.

Something in him had cracked when you'd closed the door behind you.

He'd just stuttered that he thought you were nice, and now, he needed to die.

What the fuck was wrong with him?

The embarrassment was honestly too much, and looking directly at a framed photograph of himself and Poppy, he didn't understand the strange feeling of guilt that grabbed him by the ankles and just... kept him there.

In his shiny dress shoes.

In his own house.

Joe was still wearing shoes in his own house like a fucking idiot and he'd just told you that he thought you were nice, stuttered through his words like a nervous schoolboy, and now he felt guilty?!

It wasn't until he understood why, that he was able to really move again.

This wasn't what Poppy deserved.

Poppy would worry so much about the man she loved sharing a part of his soul with this other person.

You and Mark were etched into each other souls - platonically, Poppy had no doubts about that, but my God, would Poppy ever get to see the parts of Mark that you got to see?

Poppy would worry about it a lot.

Not all the time, though.

Sometimes Poppy wanted to be lazy and watch The Crown with Joe, and she would suggest Mark could call you to see if you could hang out with him. It'd get him out of her hair for a second, and in those moments, it was all good. No issues. Everything completely fine and dandy.

But when she was tired, or had had a rough week at work, and Mark would go, "hey, I'm heading out, don't wait up," without explaining where he went, because he didn't really need to, Poppy knew where he'd go, that's when she'd call Joe and would start the conversation with, "I know it's dumb," before listing off all her insecurities. All of her worries.

Joe couldn't be responsible for those worries of hers to double in size when she would inevitably learn that the other man that she loved so dearly would freely give all of him to that same person.

The two men Poppy loved, the both of them, had space reserved in their hearts for you. You filled gaps she could never fill.

So he felt guilty. Couldn't not feel the guilt eating away at him from the inside out at parts that he could feel tug at him when he thought of you.

Joe couldn't face Poppy after that evening.

At least not for a few days.

He was afraid that she'd see right through him. That she'd confront him, and then he'd have to spill all, and fuck, that would just about ruin everything. Ruin her, and in turn, ruin him.

Joe was selfish, and Joe was gross. He was a bad friend. A bad person overall, he thought.

And it just hammered home when a joke - he swears, he was only joking - got you so upset, you walked out of the pub all together. You'd had 4 drinks in under thirty minutes and Joe'd fucked up so royally, you'd actually just left him.

Joe didn't understand.

Joe didn't know where the boundaries were.

They were impossible to find with the distance he'd always kept, and now that you had to work together, Joe wished he knew exactly where the line was. But he'd also been drinking, and even if the line had been bright and fluorescent, he probably still would have missed it.

Joe only found boundaries with you right after he'd crossed them.

The alcohol in his system hadn't served him right, and the second he implied that you and Mark weren't really friends like he and Poppy were, he was taken aback by how your whole being had turned fragile, right in front of his eyes.

He witnessed your hard exterior falter and you shrank into a tiny version of yourself, right before you said you needed to go. And Joe had tried, had reached out a hand and grabbed your arm, immediately regretting whatever he'd said, whatever he'd done to hurt you - to inflict pain like that.

However, his hold on you felt invasive, and just telling you he was sorry didn't seem like it would be enough.

So you'd left.

And he thought about calling Mark. But what was he going to say? Tell him he'd gotten another girl he loved drunk and that he needed help getting her home safe?

Big nope.

Inhale, hold, exhale.

This was something he was going to have to take care of himself. He didn't know how, exactly, but staying at the pub to finish off his drink wasn't going to do anything. So he'd followed you out. And he'd follow you home. He'd make sure to see you step into your building, and he'd watch until the door closed behind you.

Joe needed you safe.

He was about to learn where you lived, and shit, that was too close. Joe wasn't allowed to get this close.

But he'd lie to himself if he said he didn't feel a smidge of giddy excitement too, because, he was about to learn where you lived.

Joe found you fast and caught up to you without a problem. But then what? What was he going to say? Just say he was sorry? Just say he was an idiot and didn't know how to be around you?

None of what he could say would be good enough.

Joe wasn't good.

He was bad, and he could feel it in his bones. Knew it to be true. Joe was reminded of that once more when he realised why his loose fitted trousers, his baggy, swishy, wide-legged bottoms, why they were necessary for him to wear now. He was bad, and so fucking lucky that he was wearing baggy trousers when he watched you lick ice cream off of your spoon.

Joe shifted in his seat, needed to make sure that he felt less of himself grow in his underwear, and needed to make sure that nobody would see.

Jesus, you had to stop that. Stop that thing you did with your tongue every time you had a bite.

Fuck.

Maybe this is why he could never fucking think straight when he was around you.

Maybe all the blood in his body finding residence in his groin was exactly why he said dumb shit. Did dumb shit. Like make you eat a bite of his gelato. And watch the spoon that had resided inside your mouth dip into his tub, touching melted ice cream that he'd get to eat in a second.

Inhale, hold, exhale.

Joe was just a man.

And weren't you just all woman.

Beautiful, and lovely, and smart, and nice. Clever. Well-organised. Confident. Observant.

He knew when he'd cropped that picture that one day, he'd have to explain to someone why he'd chosen that photo in particular.

It was just a photograph of him and Poppy. And they looked good in black and white, faces all funny, his arm around her shoulder. Poppy's arms were both around you - he'd had to cut them off, and it looked a little weird at first, but he'd gotten used to it.

He just... he loved that picture. That night had been so fun. He remembered exactly what you were wearing. How could he not? You'd been in this sheer little thing, all... see-through and suggestive and he didn't have a real excuse to look at you like that all the time. Couldn't just frame the picture of the four of you and have that in his house. He couldn't see you like that all the time, but he found a way to be reminded of it. By still using that photograph of the four of you, but only frame what felt appropriate.

The fact that you had noticed it had said enough.

Joe was bad.

Down bad.

For you.

It was awful, and he was disgusting, but he'd constantly wonder if anyone could really blame him. Had they seen you? Had they seen you that night? Had they seen what you'd been wearing? How you had moved across the floor? Had laughed at jokes? Had found the plastic straw in your drink with your tongue?

Had they seen?

Joe had seen.

Never wanted to forget.

He had to find a different picture to frame, one that was less obvious, but had the same effect. Would it be weird if he just framed the full photograph of the four of you?

You weren't friends like that. Would never be. Joe couldn't let that happen. Not for you. Not for Poppy.

But without any of the bad that it would bring, any of the issues, the regret, the guilt and if you'd actually let him, Joe would give you all of him.

Everything he'd ever been and everything he'd ever become - he'd gladly hand it all over to you, for you to do with as you pleased.

It was the one secret he kept from Poppy, kept safe inside the thick walls of his heart, and he fully intended to take this one to the grave.

Inhale, hold, exhale.

Deep breaths always helped.

---

The Taglisted: 

@ghostinthebackofyourhead @dirtyeddietini @jasminearondottir @josephquinned @cancankiki @sidthedollface2 @dylanmunson @munsonsgirl71 @thefemininemystiquee @alana4610 @emmamooney @thatonefan-girl @paola-carter @figmentofquinnn  @haylaansmi  @thewondernanazombie @munsonmunster @kellysimagines @mybffjoe @chaoticgood-munson @sherrylyn628 @bdpst-massacre @05secondsofsexgods @lovelyblueness @adoreyouusugar @nadixq @prozacandnicotine @munsonswhore86 @alwayslindie @breddiemunson @eddie-joe-munson @ali-in-w0nderland  @pepperstories @phyllosilicate-s  @thebellenouvelle  @luvrsbian  @joesquinns  @choke-me-joey @alizztor @jnnyrd @did-it-work @capricornrisingsstuff @quinnsbower @frogers @kennedy-brooke @daleyeahson @eddielives1986 @harringtonfan4 @sadbitchfangirl

(taglist currently full, sorry)

[psychwxrdd]

MORE STEP BRO DONNIE IM BEGGINGGGGGG

so sorry for taking long sweetheart, i've been working on a lot of requests but i'm really hating everything i write lately. you guys have so many good ideas i wanna write about all of them, at some point i swear i will, just need to work on this because i want it to be good. donnie makes me so inspired y'all can send any requests about him whenever y'all want to !!

Rumours

Summary: Donnie, your step brother, takes you to Middlesex "most haunted house" on Hallowen's night, where apparently, a terrible case of murder happened. He wants to play with Ouija Board. You always believed in demons and evil itself, but never would've imagine it to come this close to you.

masterlist

Warnings: Horror, Demonic Possession, Supernatural themes, Ouija Board, Domestic Violence, Murder, Non Con, 18+

english is not my first language btw, always apologize for any mistakes!

do not read this if any of the warnings makes you feel uncomfortable or triggered. i explore horror, grotesque and dark themes, if you can't stand it, just don't read PLEASE

"Are you sure this won't get us in trouble?" You hissed, already regretting for even suggesting the house near Donnie. You knew he was a freak, knew he would have some stupid idea and he would persuade you to do it, in one way or another. Hands sweating, heart anxious and a belly ache. Felt like you'd die at any second with so much panic.

"Trust me, we're gonna have fun, it's much better than if we just went to some boring party, you wouldn't have a story to tell your kids." He tapped the back of your head and you sighed. You were finally in front of the so called haunted house.

It didn't looked awful, not at all, it was pretty preserved. The rumours said the crime happened back in the late 60s or early 70s, a couple used to live there with their only children. Not a child, actually, probably a teenager or a young adult, you weren't quite sure which one was the "true" history - If anything really did in fact happen, so many different versions were told. They were italians apparently, and the dad was an alcoholic, violent man. You even heard a version telling there was a sister but that she had depression and tried to kill herself, so he send her to a mental hospital. Not because he cared, he didn't wanted people to associate her to them.

Then one day, while his wife and son were sleeping, he woke up and shoot them both. He told the authorities it was the house, that "they told him to do it ", and since they moved in his behaviour had changed completely, making him act like a mad man. No one ever told you the end, what could have possibly happened to him; Was he arrested? Checked in a mental hospital for insanity? Did anyone took it seriously, the possibilty of a possession?

But again, it was just a urban legend. Just some history to tell to your friends in school and make them hold their pee because they are too scared to walk to the bathroom alone. It was stupid to consider and fear this.

"You're coming?" Donnie asked and you blinked, realizing you were thinking too much about it, more than you should. At your big age, shouldn't be so scared of ghost stories.

"Yeah."

"Y'know i won't let anything bad happen to you, first noise and we run as fast as we can" He reassured you, cleaning the Ouija Board with a piece of his shirt. You just nod, too nervous to reply. "Hey, look, we can leave if you're really scared"

"No...I'm not a coward." You tried to act confident.

He opened the door, a sharp sound ringing through the empty, big place. It was definetly very old, smelled like something rotting, something left behind for enough time to be forgotten.

"Shit" Donnie muttered. His eyes scanning the whole living room, a bit amazed. If the family stuff was true, then they were surely rich and europeans in fact. He couldn't help but feel disturbed by the slight different tone of colors next to the window, it didn't looked just dirty, it looked like something you can not wash away, something penetrated permanently. Like when you break a glass of grape juice and take too long to clean, like you slept for days and forgot it there.

You were too tense to dive on it, tho. You didn't wanted to think about what was that, maybe just some other dumb teenagers who got inside the house to drink, do drugs or have sex. It could be anything really.

"C'mon, let's do it Donnie"

"What a badass" He smiled, teasing. You just rolled your eyes.

"Should we do it right here or upstairs?"

"I don't know if those stairs are trustable"

"Or are you just scared?"

This time, Donnie stared at you with an annoyed look, making you laugh.

"I don't fear anything."

"Yeah, sure" You crossed your arms. "I wanna see the bedrooms."

Sighing, he just agreed. Very carefully stepping ground by ground, afraid of it might breaking all of sudden. You held his arm, strongly, more scared of falling than of any ghost.

In fact, the house was very big, you would easily live here - if you had the money to afford it in perhaps another life. The first room was probably the guests one. Following to two big bathrooms, one with a bathtub, and more five rooms. It was hard to guess which one could had possibly belonged to any of them. Again, maybe there weren't any of "them".

"Look at this" Donnie grabbed your wrist, and you felt your mouth opening. That room belonged to a teenager, for sure.

Bowie, Morrison, Nick Drake, MLB and Sharon Tate's posters on the wall, cars and trucks miniatures, organized shells of books... Someone surely used to live there.

"You think his ghost will curse us if we steal some...?" He asked, and you tapped his arm.

"Shut up" You were still curious about everything, but mostly, you were paralized by the fear that hit you once you realized maybe the rumours were true after all. "We're playing it here"

He widened his eyes. "...Okay"

"Whats the stare for?"

"I just don't think it's a good idea, you know, if this was really the son's room and if the history is true, we're being hella disrespectful"

You chuckled, sarcastically.

"Are you fucking serious? Donnie this was your idea! It doesn't matter which place from the house, we're already here for only one reason, that would be disrespectful at anywhere!"

He sighed. You wanted to punch him in the face.

"Yeah, but-"

"Cut the "but", don't be a fucking coward!"

Darko's face went to a blank expression. "Okay, i'm not a fucking coward."

You sat on the floor, no longer wasting time. He followed you.

"You know the rules, don't you?" He asked in a serious tone, you nodded. "Answer with words"

"Yes, i know the rules!" You noticed how tense he was by the mood swing.

"Once we start this, you can not leave, not take your finger off of the board, you have to be focused, alright?"

"Alright" you breathed, heavily. You kind of wanted to cry, you didn't even really wanted this in the beggining, Donnie convinced you. Then he gets scared and regret and now he's dead serious, it did something to your brain. You felt like you were about to have a panic attack at any second.

The silence was bothering you, way too much. You wanted to turn your head and stare at the door every 5 seconds, but you couldn't. The only sound in the room was you and Donnie's heavy breath.

"I start" He explained. You just stared at him, your fingers were holding so tight against the board you saw it was white. "Try to control the shaking hands"

You tried your hardest, but it was almost impossible. You were too nervous, even your chin was creaking a bit.

"Dear spirits, we want to talk. Is there any spirit in the room with us right now?"

Nothing.

"Is anyone else here?"

Nothing.

Your hands both stood there, not moving for anything in this world - and out of this world, mostly. Still, nothing happened.

"Is any spirit in the room willing to talk to us right now?"

Then, it moved. It fucking moved. You felt your whole body tingling, your heart beating faster and your hands felt cold. It couldn't be really happenin, could it?

You knew - felt - Donnie was also scared as hell, but he was stronger than you, he tried to be. He wanted to show you he would protect you, that "he had no fear". Fear is not what move us as human beings, he hated that idea.

"Now that you're in the room with us, please, tell us your name"

Your hands both moved to random letters. It didn't made any sense, it seemed like just a bunch of non sense words. You were quick to come with one, it was "bowshed".

You were both paralized in fear, you could feel Donnie's hand sweating.

"How did you died?"

Again, the hands moved to random letters. The same letters. "bowshed".

You could tell Donnie was trying hard to figure out what word was that, what the hell did that meant.

"When did you died?"

The hands moved to the numbers over the board. "31/10/1973"

Your eyes were filled with tears, but you breathed and swallowed, you had to be brave.

"What do you want?" Donnie asked, and you stared at him with wide eyes. The wasn't exactly a proper question to ask to a ghost you invoked, probably.

"Donnie, what are you doing?"

He then took his hands off of the board, all of sudden, standing up, moving towards you so quickly you thought it was inhuman. He grabbed you by the throat.

"Don-" You struggled to finish, chocking on his strong hands "Donnie..."

There was something different about his eyes. It didn't looked dark, or red, or any other color. But it looked like someone else's eyes. It wasn't Donnie, it looked so weird, so disturbing. If it wasn't for his hands on your neck, you would scream in fear.

"Who invited you, bitch?" He hollered, you smelled alcohol and weed on his breath. "Huh?"

His veins were popping out of his forehead in anger, his face looked red.

"Cat got your tongue?" He threw you on the floor and you desperatedly cried and gasped for air, crawling backwards in direction to the door. But before you could get there, you heard it slamming hard.

Donnie, or whoever was that, kept staring at you. He took his belt off, and you frozed, crying hysterically. You were ready to feel the pain against your skin, but then you heard a woman screaming.

You opened your eyes, and the scene in front of you made you feel chills all over your body; Donnie was smiling at you. Not the usual smiles he gave you, this was sinister. You just wanted to run to your mom now, you were in fact a coward, it didn't mattered.

You heard now also the sound of what it seemed to be a boy crying, it was horrible to hear. There was blood all over the floor, you couldn't tell where was it coming from.

Then he suddenly grabbed you, turning you around and pressing your face agaisnt the floor. This couldn't be happening. He sat upon you, lifting your dress up and beating the belt on your ass.

"Gotta teach you some manners, whore. Teach you to not fucking get to whats none of your business"

He hitted, again. Again. Again. Again. The more he hitted you, the more you heard the woman voice's screaming. You never wished so bad to have a nightmare, you wanted this all to be nothing more than a nightmare.

"Please, stop..." You begged, sobbing.

You heard him unzipping his pants. No, no, no, this wasn't happening. You were not there.

"What did you do to Donnie?" you cried, "Where is my brother, what have you done to him?"

He said nothing, only putting your panties to the side and spitting on your clit. He rubbed slowly, and your body reacted slightly, as terrible as it sounds.

He placed himself inside you, and you screamed at his size. "Thats it, my little step sis" You frozed, how the fuck did that thing knew that?

You cried and he held your hair with one hand, pounding into you like you were just as inhuman as him. The pain started to feel like pleasure, somehow, maybe it was just your body protecting you. You never felt so terrified, ever, this was all unreal, this was an horror movie.

It wasn't a movie. It was your life.

"He is dead" He mumbled. "Bloodshed"

Your eyes grew wide. "What...What did you just..."

"Bloodshed. They are all dead."

[mxlktxa]

ᴛᴀɪɴᴛᴇᴅ ʟᴏᴠᴇ

ᴍᴏᴅᴇʀɴ!ᴀᴜ, ᴄᴏʟʟᴇɢᴇ!ᴀᴜ

ᴀʙʙʏ ᴀɴᴅᴇʀꜱᴏɴ x ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀꜱ; ᴀʙʙʏ ᴀɴᴅᴇʀꜱᴏɴ, ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ*

ᴄᴡ; ꜱᴛʀᴏɴɢ ʟᴀɴɢᴜᴀɢᴇ, 18+ ᴍᴅɴɪ, ᴀʙʙʏ ɪꜱ ꜱᴜᴘᴘᴏꜱᴇᴅ ᴘᴏʀᴛʀᴀʏᴇᴅ ᴀꜱ ᴀ ᴅɪᴄᴋʜᴇᴀᴅ, ʙʟᴀᴄᴋᴍᴀɪʟɪɴɢ, ᴘʜʏꜱɪᴄᴀʟ ᴠɪᴏʟᴇɴᴄᴇ, ɪᴍᴘʟɪᴇᴅ ꜱᴇxᴜᴀʟ ᴀꜱꜱᴀᴜʟᴛ, ᴘᴇᴛ ɴᴀᴍᴇꜱ (ᴅᴏʟʟ, ᴘʀɪɴᴄᴇꜱꜱ, ᴇᴛᴄ.)

ᴡᴄ; 1.7ᴋ, 9.0ᴋ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀꜱ

ᴀʟʀᴇᴀᴅʏ ᴡᴇɴᴛ ᴛʜʀᴏᴜɢʜ ᴘᴛ1?? ʜᴇʀᴇꜱ ᴘᴛ2

an; im thinking of changing the title so if it does please dont be upset (im very indecisive)

‘You’re the prettiest little thing I’ve seen at this party tonight.’

That was all it took. All it took for me to have my confidence immensely boosted, for me to get in my head and act like I was hot shit, for me to feel lusted over and pursued.

All it took for me to become a hot topic that everyone poked fun at and tease.

Abigail Anderson. Probably the ‘hottest athlete to walk this college campus. She got whatever she wanted, was always the top athlete, and was always known to play girls all the time and end up embarrassing them somehow.

I always tried to avoid people since middle school. Always avoided huge crowds, never really went out, never posted on social media, and never really seen with anyone else. I was labeled ‘the cute yet weird loner’ which always sounded so stupid, of course. But I was always left alone so maybe it wasn’t all that bad, I guess.

Last night, I decided to go to some stupid frat party. I was all dolled up, dressed ‘slutty’ enough to be hit on but never actually pursued. It was nice to be out and about and letting loose— just barely for me—, I got to take some pictures, and somewhat meet new people. I kinda enjoyed myself.

I was getting drinks like crazy, keeping my ‘cute yet weird loner’ composure up until Abby made her presence known to anyone attending. She was so confident and loud, so outgoing and cocky. I couldn’t tear my eyes off of her. The way she presented herself was just so attractive and I hated myself for even thinking about her hands being all over me. Eye contact was strong between us the entire night, small advances being made over time.

“You’ve been looking at me all night, gorgeous. You got anything you wanna tell me?”

My head whipped around to look up to Anderson, heart racing and heat rising in my face, “N-no. I’m sorry, I just… you’re very out there.”

“Is that a good or bad thing?”

“It… It depends on who I’m looking at.”

“I hope it's good for me then.”

My mind was fuzzy with thoughts of Abby’s head between my thighs, eating me out as she ran her hands all along my body and moaned into me. I had subconsciously bit my lip, causing Abby to chuckle and look me up and down like crazy, very clearly stopping to stare at my cleavage every now and again.

“Come get a drink with me.”

“Oh, I-I can’t. I’ve reached my limit for tonight. I should be getting home anyway. I’m sorry,” I shook my head, holding my hand up between us, “maybe if I’m ever out again, I’ll wait until I see you.”

“What if I never see you again?” her question should’ve punched me harder in the face, warning me that anything else she said would have no true meaning to it, “you’re the prettiest little thing I’ve seen at this party tonight.”

I stared up at her, grinning like a fool while she grasped my wrist to pull me into her. I giggled, looking her up and down, running my other hand along her muscles. Abby smirked so villain-like, yet I was too drunk and too stupid to see it that way. I truly thought she had wanted me. I should’ve known better. It’s fucking Abby Anderson for fuck's sake.

Just imagine. You’re having the time of your life, sleeping with someone you knew wasn’t a very good person yet while being with them alone, they seem like a wonderful person, so truly sweet. They’re perfect, aren’t they? Now imagine that same person going out of their way to embarrass you, having taken such crude photos and sending them to anyone who cares to see. Telling you that if you disrespect them in any way shape or form, they would send out a video that you had no idea they’d recorded while being so intimate and caring.

Abby had all power over me. If she wanted or needed something, she’d get it. I tried to hide from her, keeping a low-profile dress in baggy clothing, skipping classes, and going as far as walking with random groups of people so she wouldn’t single me out. On the days she couldn’t find me, she’d be at my dorm, waiting for me outside.

“Where’ve you been, doll?”

“I don’t wanna talk Abby. I’m busy and need to study.”

“Like hell you do. I need a favor.”

“Abby, please.”

“Do you want everyone to see how well I treated you the other night?” she turned aggressively, gripping my arm so tightly that I reacted without thinking twice.

I struck Abby Anderson in. The. Face.

She stared me down, holding eye contact with me before scoffing, “Oh, you wanna fucking play smart, huh?"

"Abby, no, wait. I'm sorry. I-it was a reflex, I swear, I meant nothing by it!" I whimpered, not because I was scared, but because she was gripping me so tight that I couldn't even imagine how bad the bruise was gonna be.

"Open your door."

"Abby, please, I-"

"Open the damn door!" she huffed through gritted teeth and pushed me to face the door. Let's just say that she ended up getting more to blackmail me. How fucking fantastic.

Now here I sat, in the campus bathroom, sitting in the stall and bawling my eyes out. I wasn't even sure I would have any tears left in about two minutes. Abby had complete control over my life and her attitude lately had been so confusing and frustrating. One second, she would seem as though she felt bad about how she was treating me then the next just completely throw that feeling out the window and make me comply with anything she asked for.

"I know you're in here, gorgeous. C'mon out," her voice bounced off the walls, echoing for just a second. I could hear her footsteps all of them slow and steady, as if I were gonna jump out and attack her. If I hadn't known any better or just decided to end up in the hospital, I would've tried it a while back. Instead, I just rolled my eyes and carefully came out of the stall I was in.

Abby leaned against the sink, looking me up and down for what felt like years. Uncomfortably, I shifted, trying to cover my chest with the jacket I had on as I was wearing a V-neck halter top. Something she demanded I wore just for her. Abby came closer, hand coming up to lift my chin, our eyes only meeting for a moment before I brushed her hand away, immediately regretting it.

"What's the matter, princess? You love it when I do that," Abby chuckled, pulling me so she could place her hands around my waist to grip my ass. I stared down at the floor between us, shaking my head. Her hand lifted my chin up, thumb wiping away my tears.

"What do you want, Abigail?" I muttered as low as I possibly could, hating that I even had to ask her such a thing.

"I just wanted to see my pretty girl. Ask her if she wanted to come to a party with me."

"I don't wanna go out. I just... I'm tired. I don't wanna do anything right now," a quick response left my lips, wishing I had just said yes as we both knew I would end up going whether I liked it or not.

"Listen,” Abby tensed up, unraveling from the grasp she had me in, taking a step back, “I know what I did was wrong but I’m trying to make it up to you. Everything I had done to you, I’m sorry. Those videos and pictures I had? All gone. All deleted.”

Ex-fucking-scuse me? Where was this coming from? Abby apologizing? Abby? The worst person to have ever entered my life was apologizing to me? I don’t think I’ve ever had anyone who’s bullied me before doing such a thing.

I stared at her with a blank expression, absolutely flabbergasted about what just happened. She frantically pulled out her phone, showing me that she had deleted everything about me from her phone. Even went as far as to show me that she emptied out her trash. That didn’t execute me from staring at her like she was stupid.

“Please, say some—.”

“You fucking blackmailed me,” my head shook, “you took pictures of me when I was vulnerable and you sent them out! Now everybody thinks I’m an easy fucking target! I trusted you even though you’ve been labeled as a playboy!” I laughed at her. Not because I was funny but because it was absolutely crazy what was happening.

“I just—.”

“Wanted another victim? Well, you fucking got her!” I revealed my phone to Abby, opening one of my social apps and showing her all the message requests I had. They were mainly from people that she knew, sending me a photo of Abby and me and saying something along the lines of ‘Let’s get you drunk and recreate these’.

“It is going to take more than just some weak ass, sorry ass, bullshit apology to ever be forgiven,” I whispered, “I knew I should’ve just stayed in my own lane and listened to the rumors of you being an asshole," Abby's lips parted to speak, taking in a quick breath, but not quick enough, "I should've never left my dorm that night. You're a piece of shit, Abigail."

I didn't care to see Abby any more than I had to, leaving her in the bathroom and mindlessly wandering the campus. I didn't know what to do. I didn't even know if I wanted to continue my college experience anymore. Abby was definitely out of her fucking mind, that or she genuinely feels like shit and wants to get on my good side.

All I knew was that I was going to piss off Abby way more than she pissed me off. She was going to be the next big topic that everyone made of, she was going to be absolutely fucking fuming. She was going to have a hard time and I was going to be the one to cause that for her.

[yanderu-deredere]

could you please write something about a darling worried about being too clingy? boyfriends always ask me to loosen up, that i need to give them room to breathe, that im too clingy often. id w9nder how your ocs would deal with a darling that has decided that this relationship will be different! even though she wants to be clingy, she tries her best not to!

a/n: another grouped up thing LOL! if you want more specific ones, send the request again and i'd be happy to rewrite it! thank youu for the request!

also, this request is Big Mood™ and i relate so so much to this. anon, i want you to know that you're not clingy. you're not too much. and you should never settle for someone who doesn't enjoy being around you, okay? there will be someone out there that will love you in all your wonderful gorgeous clinginess.

you belong to them and, last they checked, they weren't telling you to doubt yourself, were they? if you ever come to them with your concerns or they ever notice you pulling away, they'll address it immediately. in their minds, they own your entire being and, if they haven't told you anything about hating how you act, you should use your pretty little brain to worry about other things. plus, they'd like a clingier darling anyway because it shows how dedicated you are to them and it reminds them that you really are all theirs.

liam, fujio, ayaka, mel, ryouta

awww, poor baby. they'd definitely reassure you that it's fine, that they prefer their darling to be clingy. if you ever give them room to breathe, they'll just pull you back in. they don't want space! they want you all over them 24/7! and, of course, anyone who told you that you were too much suddenly disappear. but that's not something you should be concerned with! what you should be concerned with is them; paying attention to them, being glued to them, always being near them. that's what they want and they'll make sure you never forget it

gavin, ryuu, soren, casimir

what? clingy? you haven't been clingy at all! in fact, they'd tell you that you're not clingy enough! they'd be a bit shy to tell you but they'll steel their voice and try their hardest to come off confident and sure. they want to reassure you that they love you, that you're theirs and they're yours and there's nothing in the world they'd love more than for you to lower your walls for them. they want you to treat their relationship like home. they want you to be comfortable, happy, safe, warm. their love for you is unconditional, darling, so be as clingy as you want, okay?

gawain, yeong-bae, eun-jeong, emm, isamu

Yeah, bitch, you are clingy and it is annoying. Is that what you want him to say? Shut the fuck up! If he thought you were too clingy, he would've told you! Don't fucking thing he's some passive aggressive asshole that would imply things instead of just being straight with you. He loves you for you, in all of your entirety, and he'll literally be so pissed off if you even think about holding something about you back, no matter how small you think it is. And, anyway, he's the clingier one of the two of you so he doesn't know what the fuck you're talking about.

leonard

[leigh-kay]

yall arent giving me what i need w ethan landry so ill do it my goddamn self

Confidence|| Ethan Landry (Scream 6)

warnings: smut, like straight fucking, sub! oc reader, dom! ethan, he whines so your welcome, choking, cutesy ish ending, theyre in love bc im in love w ethan, head (female recieving), ethan needing to satisfy her to be happy, ethan being hot in general

"Like that?" he whispered, dragging slow circles across her clit.

She nodded, teeth digging into her bottom lip as she gripped at his wrist, "go faster baby."

He obliged, and while he could tell she liked it, he knew she needed more. And he remembered how she nearly screamed when he'd used his mouth the last time. He wouldn't settle for less.

As he stopped his attack with his fingers, she eyed him questionably, a frown on her lips as he got up from the bed.

"What are you doing?" she pouted.

"Come here," he demanded, standing at the foot of the bed.

The change in his demeanor was almost frightening. He'd never been one to call the shots in their sex life. It was shortlived, they'd only slept together twice, and she always took the lead. He'd been a virgin, and, well, she was far from it.

Which didn't bother him in the way most people would think. No, Ethan simply hated the idea that anyone could make her feel better than he could. And that... was not an option.

She stared at him curious, but following his request. She sat before him, looking up at the pretty brown eyes she'd fallen in love with as a smirk appeared on her face.

"Ethan what-" his knees hit the floor in front of her, and his hands gripped her thighs.

As he slid them open, he smiled at her softly, "You liked this right?"

She couldn't get words out. Never in her fucking life did she think she'd ever see a sight like this. Messy hair and dimples like his between her legs, trying so hard to take over but still be every bit the gentlemen he always was. It was unreal.

She simply nodded, her hand reaching to pull on one of his, lacing them together. His free hand squeezed at her thigh as his mouth attached itself to her cunt. His tongue running through her slit as he sucked against her heat.

She gasped as he found her clit, rolling his tongue over it slowly but rough.

"Ethan," she squeezed at his hand, her back hitting the bed as she fell back.

Over and over, he tugged her clit between his lips, alternating between fucking her with his tongue and the latter. He couldn't get enough of the taste on his tongue.

She cursed above him, whining and hips damn near riding his face as he kept up the pace. She was so fucking close it hurt and her movements were uncontrollable.

He groaned against her opening as she screamed his name, sending her crashing through her orgasm. He didn't pull off as he licked across her cunt, cleaning her up as she moaned at the sensitivity.

Grabbing for his face, she pulled him close, throwing her lips against his as she thread her fingers through the mess of curls at the back of his head.

Fumbling, she yanked at the bottom of his shirt, pulling it up to his arms before he took over and thew it to the floor beside them.

"I want it, please Ethan." She pressed her palm to his covered cock, fighting for breath as they broke apart.

He'd loved sex with her, all of the two times they'd done it but she's never begged him for anything. And he never felt the burn in his veins that he did as the words left her mouth. He wanted to fuck her in every goddamn position possible. Until she couldn't take it. He wanted to ruin her.

The ideas scared him but by god if it didn't make his dick hard to think about her crying for him. His hand found her neck as he pressed messy kisses across her tits.

"So perfect," he mumbled, hips slowly grinding into her bare pussy.

She sighed at the contact, bucking up at him as he brought his hips back down on her again. Teeth ran across her sweet spot as she cried his name, "Ethan, please!"

"I just wanna worship you, pretty," he flashed those fucking dimples and she wanted to die. She thought she might explode if he didn't fuck her like she so clearly needed.

"I need you."

His patience snapped. How could he not fuck her when she needed him? His hands flew to his jeans, unbuttoning them before slipping them down his legs, groaning as she went for his boxers.

His cock sprang free as he snatched the condom from the night stand beside them. Slipping it on before lining up with her cunt.

He tried to keep himself in check, sliding into her slowly as his head fell back, "fuck me."

Inch by inch, she welcomed him before wrapping her legs around his torso, whimpering at how he damn near split her open.

"God, you take me like you're fucking made for it," he groaned.

She had not a clue where this side of Ethan had been hiding, but fuck she loved it. She loved everything about him but by god this made it even better.

He dragged out of her, hissing at how tight she was around him, before his hands settled at her waist and he slammed back into her. The noise that left her was enough to send his eyes to the back of his head.

Everything about her was perfect, but the noises she made for him? The fact he caused them sent heat through his body.

"How," he pushed into her at a steady pace, "did I get so lucky hmm?"

"I-" a particularly sharp thrust cut her words short.

"Sorry baby I didn't get that?"

Cocky son of a bitch. God he was hot.

His thrusts were deep and fast, pulling her hips to meet him as she cried out his name over and over. As her nails began to cut into his shoulders he let out a whine that made her clench around him.

He always sounded so pretty.

"Harder", she pulled him flat against her, "pl-ease."

He obeyed, fucking into her from the closer angle, making her scream.

"Right there?" she nodded vigorously, legs shaking.

Again and again he drilled against the spot, leaving her writhing underneath of him as she fell apart.

He could feel his orgasm chasing him as he sucked marks into her skin. She was his to do that with, she'd told him. He'd been damned if he didn't take every chance to claim her since.

"Baby," she ran her nails down his back, "cum for me. Please, inside me"

"Are you- jesus christ- are you sure?"

"Yes! Fuck, please!"

She tightened around him as the sensitivity took her over, her teeth grazing his neck and sending him over the edge.

As the wave hit him, he pressed his lips to hers with zero hesitation. She could feel the heat spreading inside of her, hear the low pitched ramblings in her ear as she took everything he gave her.

"So pretty", "Perfect girl", and "So good to me" were all she could make out as he gently pull out of her and pulled her under his arm.

Her eyes flutter as she look over at him, red covering his cheeks and curls matted against his forehead. He was the kind of perfect people carved statues for.

His brown eyes found hers, exhaustion behind them, "I- I'm sorry I lost my cool."

She stared for a moment, convinced he was joking before she burst into laughter.

"What?" he turned to face her.

"Ethan you fucked me so good I don't even think I could walk if I wanted to right now and you're apologizing."

He tried not to smile, "I did?"

A soft blow hit his side as she rolled her eyes, "Don't go getting cocky now, Landry."

"You're simply boosting my confidence."

She snorted, snuggling further into his side, "My pleasure."

[autisticbokutoenthusiast]

do u have any bokuto timeskip headcanons friend? :>

yes! some of the ones i consider to be foundational to my timeskip bokuto lore since im sleepy:

to preface i am a bokuto lesbian moms believer and i think he is really close with them and continues to rely on them for help navigating his life forever. you will have to pry the way they baby him from me in a fight to the death

he and atsumu are like, the word isnt inverses but theres something about them to me that is the same but different idk, anyway i think theyre friendship is super important to both of them, like theres unspoken understanding between the two of them. soulmateism but for teammates turned friends. one of them has a problem or is experiancing overload the other one already knows and is on it kinda thing. is it realistic? no but i dont care. i think tho, from an outsiders perspective theyre just friendly, or just spend a lot of time together because theyre teammates almost the exact same age, but iykyk.

bokuto to me is someone who can be friends with anyone, but not anyone will be friends with him. i think if you can kick it with someone without prejudice you can kick it with him cause he has a very open heart but not everyone can handle its strength. he is however very genuine with his affection so most people at least get along with him over time if not at first

he is considered a bit of a risk when traveling because of his tendency to wander around paying attention to small details instead of important markers and gets lost

i also think bokuto and aran are best friends because bokuto is practical enough to ease aran's anxiety and aran doesn't hold strangeness against you

i think him and ushijima are work nemesis for a period. why? maybe bokuto retains some of his friendly competition for ushijima from high school and it rubs him the wrong way, maybe bokuto misinterperets ushijima's demeanor as dismissive of him in a way people who dont like him are, who knows, all i know is they one day both decide theyre over it and become ride or die acquaintences like they dont hang out but if you give one of them shit the other with triple homo spike pass you to an early grave

i think bokuto, if he gets upset on the court, is probably gonna get upset at himself, or the lights being a little brighter than he anticipated, or he didn't give the pose he wanted when people took pics on the way in or whatever- when his teammates start yelling at the other team/ref or kicking at the net, hes the one to calmly redirect them to focusing on the next play. all of this to say that if you see him pissed.... its a match for the history books.... im talking turkiye v brazil vnl 2023 vibes- fucking crazy

the little acrobatic tricks he does at the beginning of the jackadlers match is part of my personality. you (furudate) can force me to accept he graduated from university, but you (furudate) will never make me believe he didnt at least try to go to clown school.

he is one of those volleyball players that has your regularly scheduled match/ sponsorship/ travel/ occacional fancams posts but also whatever his current interest is is super obvious because his feed will be broken up by a million posts about cacti or a type of australian spider or a deep dive into every type of cloud or the color blue or something

hes the type of player who gets interviewed midmatch and after throroughly complimenting everyone on court he recounts every point like it has been the highlight of his life- the interviewer is always extremly confused and unsure of how to cut him off

hes also one of the life of the party players- gets a service ace and does a lil victory lap or does tiktok dances from the bench when the camera is on him

also this is slightly less related but bokuto's moms have taken akaashi as one of their own and bokuto gets really upset if they all hangout without him and dont send a selfie of their time together.

i think at somepoint aran explains to him kita's definition of confidence and after that he is better at not shutting down midmatch- he tries to anticipate things he cant anticipate and focus on the parts of the game that remain conistant- but it continues to be hard for him in day to day life- in fact id say that the older he gets the harder time he has

he and kuroo text everday- about everything and nothing- but they continue to be besties

i mean this seriously i think he can dabble in drag as a treat

i think he has to balance being himself and being loved for it and being aware of the ways people negatively perceive him...

everyone assumes he is a pr teams worst nightmare but actually that honor goes to sakusa, but bokuto will help him with it

im too sleepy now but thank you for asking!!

[stormborngod]

hii !!! I have read your two aelin fanfics and I have to say that they are the best in the world, I was wondering if you could write something nsfw about aelin x reader (?) no hurry 💗

Authors Note: IM SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG, I legitimately forgot about it because life things got in the way and im so so so sorry!!

Writing this made me realize that I kinda abandoned this account lmao.

Heres Aelin smut (i tried my best I home it’s not terrible) and feel free to send in more asks!

Burn Me Inside And Out (I Need The Burn)

Tags: fxf, female!reader, post-canon, confident!reader, teasing, semi-public??? She fingers you in a hallway dude idk, fingering, Aelin being downbad for reader, reader teases Aelin during a party and reaps the benefits

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You didn’t brag often.

Mostly because your wife bragged enough about you, and because you didn’t feel the need to. You knew that you were quite the catch and you didn’t feel the need to flaunt what was already obvious.

But, Hellas, you looked good.

You knew it from the stares you could feel piercing you, from the moment you walked in the room till you stood against the wall, your back pressed against cool wood. Your bare back.

The black dress you were wearing was backless, proudly showing off the golden backdrop necklace that rested in between your shoulder blades and trailed down to your lower back. You hide a smug smile as you take another sip of your wine. You had already counted at least three guests at this party that had nearly choked on their wine when they saw the necklace, their eyes roving over you.

While their gazes were amusing, if not a bit of a ego boost, it wasn’t them you wanted to impress.

It was your wife’s.

Aelin.

You felt her gaze on you the moment you stepped into the party, piercing you like a blade from across the room.

You had watched as she ended her conversation as quickly as she could without enacting a national incident, making her way through the crowd towards you. Her fiery blond hair was bright against the crowd, making her a lighthouse in the endless ocean of the people spreading the two of you.

You had felt a bit bad when you moved away just as she was close enough that you could make out her dark dress, it’s gold lining complimenting the golden shards that danced in her turquoise eyes.

You would have been perfectly fine to allow her to touch you, her arm wrapping around your waist as she pulled you closer to her. She would have run her hand over your bare back, her fingers idly playing with the necklace draped down your back as the two of you made your rounds around the room, charming anyone around you.

You certainly didn’t mind the idea, you loved it if you were being honest, but you liked the idea of teasing her more.

You have been ignoring her the entire night, moving out of reach before she could reach for you or leading her into guests that were dying to talk to their queen. You watched her from your position against the wall, smirking when she caught your eyes over the shoulder of whatever lord she was talking with.

She look thoroughly uninterested in whatever he was saying, her eyes only for you. Her eyes narrowed as she took in your smug expression, momentarily turning back to the lord to excuse herself as she began to make her way towards you.

You rolled your shoulders as you reached out towards one of the servants next to you, replacing your now empty drink with a full one as you began to make your way back into the crowd. You looked over your shoulder, biting your lip to hold in your laugh as you made yourself further into the crowd, blending into the people around you almost seamlessly.

Almost.

Honestly, sometimes you forgot your wife used to be an assassin.

An arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you into a warm body behind you. You went willingly, almost purring as a hand ran up your throat to tilt your head until red lips pressed against yours. Gods, with how good Aelin felt pressed against you, kissing you, you were beginning to question why you were teasing her in the first place.

The answer came a moment later when Aelin turned you to face her, her eyes blazing with desire and need. She bent her head, her lips brushing over your pulse.

“You're trying to kill me.” She says, her breath warm against the skin of your neck. You hum and trail your fingertips over her sides, “Maybe.” You tease, tightening your grip as you pulled her closer to you.

She can't hold back a chuckle at your pleased tone, pressing a kiss against your neck before she pulls away to face you. You know there's no point in hiding the blush rising to your cheeks. You can feel her red lipstick lingering on your skin and you don't doubt that she's left a bright red mark on you for all to see.

Her eyes glance over you, her hunger for you growing as she takes in the way your dress hugs your body. One of her hands trails down your side until she reaches your thigh, rubbing her thumb over the fabric there.

You wrap your arms around her neck, pulling her closer to you so you can press your lips together. Gods, she's not even fully touching you and you can already feel the heat rising from between your thighs, making you agonizingly focused on her touch.

The two of you part, breathless.

“I think we’re going to have to miss this dance, love.” Aelin asks, her voice light despite the hunger in her eyes. You chuckle, moving towards her neck to press your lips against her throat, leaving your own lipstick mark on your skin.

“Really? May I ask why, dearest?” You tease before gasping as she began to read you out of the room. She dodges between people before she's able to pull you into one of the large halls leading into the party.

She presses you against a wall, kissing you fiercely as she grips your hips. Her nails dig into your skin, even through the fabric of your dress. Her grip stings, setting your blood aflame as you buck your hips against her.

“Gods,” Aelin groans, “how attached are you to this dress?” You furrow your brows, pulling away to glare at her.

“Don’t even think about it.” You warn, still gasping for air. She huffs, bending her head to nip your throat. She chuckles when you arch your neck, exposing more of yourself to her. Her fangs trace over your pulse and you bunch the fabric of her dress in your hands as you groan.

One of her hands moves from your hips to rub over your thigh, pulling your dress up until it haphazardly bunches over your hips. Her other hand moves to brush over your underwear, lacy fabric covering her prize.

You chuckle breathlessly at her growl of frustration before gasping as she tugs your panties to the side, her fingers immediately finding your wet heat. She groans as your wetness coats her fingers. She glides her fingers over your clit, rubbing firmly against it. You bit your lip to hold in your moans, bucking your hips against her hand.

She purrs at your desperation, head ducking down to nip and kiss at your throat, “That’s it, sweetheart.” Her husky voice seems to echo in your ears as your hips pick up their pace. Aelin allows you to grind to your hearts content, waiting until your gasping out as your almost reach your peak. She drags her fingers away suddenly, laughing at your growl as you try to pull her hand back to you.

“Patience sweetheart. I’ll give you what you need.” Aelin coos, voice mocking and sickly sweet as she traced her fingers over you. She rubs over your clit firmly one more time before she moves lower, entering you. Your gasp as she pushes one, two fingers inside you.

Aelin doesn’t bother going slow, her fingers driving into your fiercely as you gasp and moan. You can barely bring yourself to care about your voice echoing back to the party, hips bucking. You can only focus on Aelin, on her fingers inside you and her lips at your neck.

She snarls at your moans, almost as desperate as you as she begins to hammer into you. Her voice is strained as she speaks, hunger clouding her eyes, “Come on sweetheart, give it to me. Soak my hand and let everyone know how good I make you feel.”

And you do, gods you do. Your body shakes as your cum, your wet heat tightening around Aelin’s fingers. Aelin curses, her fingers still thrusting into you. She eventually slows her pace as your breathing and shaking slows, pulling her fingers from you with a wet noise that leaves you flushed.

She holds your gaze as she rubs her tongue over her fingers, cleaning your wetness from them. You bite you lip, fighting against your suddenly desperate to pull her back to you despite your recent orgasm.

She smirks, pulling her fingers from her mouth as her free hand begins to smooth out your dress. At your confused look she chuckled, gold-flecked eyes sparking in amusement.

“We don’t want you to walk back into the party looking freshly fucked, do we? Imagine the scandal.” She laughs when your hand pushed at her shoulder, ignoring your glare as she offers you a hand.

“Shall we?”

[hotluncheddie]

Do you think Robin 'I don't have a strong grasp of social cues' Buckley was relieved that Steve would just tell her like it is? Like when she's babbling while El has a bit of mindflayer in her leg he just calmly tells her that's not helping he doesn't snap at her he understands what's she'd trying to do but can also see how everyone else is reacting and knows it's not what's needed. And Steve 'youre an idiot' Harrington feeling the same that she just explains things without making him feel like an idiot? Like when he's freaking out about the buttons in the elevator and she acknowledges his point that yes they did work previously he has a point about that button they won't work now because they don't have authorisation now from the Russians key card. Do you? Do you think about how much they need each other and just work perfectly together so quickly and how lonely they must've been before

im gonna be real with you lovely anon. i do not give stobin enough of my metal juices, the thought about them are not thunk at the velocity they deserve.

but that changes now bc u r so right.

these examples are so good!! they're so perfect, so meant to be. if i think about how lonely it must have been for them before i might get genuinely sad. so i’m not even gonna go there.

i just think steve would come from a world with a lot of subtext, a lot of public vs private faces and a lot of grinning and barring it. so i feel like the simplicity of being around robin, having it all out on the table; how she feels, what she's thinking, what she likes and doesn't like being so so obvious. i bet its really nice, really freeing for steve. that you can just be, be yourself.

and i think robin would also come from a world with a lot of subtext but subtext she feels like she’s on the outside of, never given the cheat sheet. plus she’s gay so that’s adds a level of anxiety to the subtext she is already struggling with. has someone figured her out? is anyone else like her and she just can’t see it? very stressful. but steve just is, he knows how to navigate people, even if they don’t react to him the same way they used to. he has all the flash cards and he’ll share no problem.

also i think steve is very sensible with a strong moral compass, ultimately hes very kind. and robin is smart but not always people smart, but again she ultimately has a strong sense of self and confidence in her own thoughts and abilities. they’re such a good mix of robins creative thinking and steves linear thinking. one will notice what the other lacks but they’re confident and comfortable enough to voice it in the first place. similar enough but also different enough. they fill in each others gaps. perfect love recipe i think.

and the start! the spark! u put them together in the neutral space of scoops ahoy. they both need to be there, hate being there and look stupid. they’re constantly around each other and have the ability to constantly surprise each other. it’s a bestie recipe made in heaven.

plus they’re both kinda mean when they want to be, much easier to not get offended if ur natural instinct is to be kinda mean back.

but i think platonic love can be a hard one sometimes. so it’s lovely that theres them for representation.

ty for sending me this <3

[finerllines]

love, harry [bestfriend!h au]

a/n: hello everyone i hope yall are still here and reading!! im so sorry it took so long i had a major slump for a couple of months but now im back and im so excited to wrap up charlie and harry's story. thank you for reading!! please give me feedback, comment, and reblog if you enjoyed <3

summary: harry needs his best friend back and he will do anything to get her to love him back

wc: 11k+

tw: none :-)

prev part

///

One of the main occupational hazards of being a touring musician is missing things. Eventually, people learn to stop sending invitations. Just as well, it gets harder and harder to find new ways to say ‘sorry, I’ve got work’. When most of the people you grew up with have moved out of your small town, onto bigger and better things, home just becomes wherever you manage to stay for more than a month.

And that’s fine. That’s all Harry can really remember. Life became a matter of watching everyone else’s from a distance. Everyone’s except one.

Charlie.

Instead of Instagram stories and posts, it was personal photos and little vlogs about her day sent straight to him, for his eyes only. He doesn’t know what he did to earn her trust and love, but he has never taken it for granted. Somehow, she was never deterred by his lack of attendance, congratulatory texts and video calls thankfully being enough. Or it was enough, until she got pregnant.

He had worked so hard to show her it’s okay to open up and let people in again, and he went and pissed it all away. But he is determined to not let her shut him out again. Which is why he’s back at her front door, on four hours of sleep, still exhausted from the show the night before.

Nothing brings you back down to earth like standing in front of a door after performing in front of five thousand people, hands filled with grovelling supplies, shaking as it raises to knock.

Despite the many women he’s dated, grovelling is new to him. He likes to think he’s a pretty good boyfriend - he’s attentive, patient, and thoughtful. But by the time they get to the point where he would need to grovel, he normally already has one foot out the door, so instead of trying to make amends he accepts their fate and ends things. Cruel? Sure. But it’s the truth. He’s never really loved or cared about anyone enough to want to make the extra effort.

Except Charlie. And Charlie has never been mad at him.

Until now. Justifiably so.

It’s not that Harry doesn’t want to have this conversation, it’s all he’s wanted to do since their call, he just doesn’t know where to start.

Should he bring up the pure rage he felt when he saw the pictures of them and Richard? Or is that something he should save for later, after he has figured all of that out himself? He’s a jealous guy, everyone knows that, but he’s never felt jealousy so ugly and intense like that before, it felt so primitive and guttural; the near uncontrollable urge to remind Richard, and everyone, that Charlie does not belong to him. Problem is, Charlie doesn’t belong to him either. And neither does Rory. Less so now than ever.

He used to think he feels so strongly about her because she is a piece of his childhood, a piece of the Harry he used to be. Now, these feelings are undeniably romantic. None of her previous partners ever felt like a real threat because he was always confident that their history and the connection is stronger than anything these men would have to offer her. Then Richard made a baby with her. Talk about a connection.

Those weeks spent with Rory and Charlie were bliss. There hasn’t been a day spent without thinking about how they were doing since: whether Rory ate all her breakfast, or whether Charlie found the time to watch an episode of Taskmaster with a glass of wine. And when the domestic got too emotional for him, he would start to wonder what her skin would feel like if he ran his hand under her shirt, or what sounds she would make if he nuzzled his nose in the crook of her neck, peppering it with soft kisses and licks.

But none of that is as important as their friendship. So, until he figures out all of that out for himself, he needs to focus on apologising and begging for forgiveness.

Taking a deep breath, he wipes his palms on his thighs before knocking the door. While waiting, he talks himself through more deep breaths. It’s a good thing he did because when the door gets pulled open his breath hitches a little.

Finally seeing the person you’ve been missing and thinking about is almost life giving. Charlie is stunning, even in an old robe and a braid that looks like it was slept in.

“Harry, hi.”

He had been mentally bracing himself for iciness in her voice. Instead, all he hears is wariness, and half of her body remains hidden behind the door

Charlie is wary of him. Shit.

“Um, H?” she asks when he doesn’t respond.

“Hi,” he raises a hand as a greeting on instinct, forgetting that he’s holding a bouquet of flowers. “Can I come in?”

“Yeah, of course.” She replies as if it’s ridiculous that he has to ask, but she can't see how guarded she looks right now.

A wave of déjà vu hits. The uncertainty and ball of emotion in his belly reminds Harry of the day he came to confront Charlie about having a baby.

She walks in front of him guiding him to the kitchen.

“Rory’s just eaten breakfast, I’m getting started on mine. You can join me if you’d like.”

In the kitchen playing with a hand towel is the most cheerful baby. The smile that emerges on his face is instinctive, and it’s fortunately shared by Rory. He’s not sure if it’s wishful thinking but he thinks he sees her eyes light up with recognition. He wants to pick her up and cuddle her close, for his own comfort more than anything, but he reminds himself of the agenda and redirects his attention to his best friend.

Standing in the middle of her kitchen, kind of stupidly, he thrusts his hands forward, like a young boy presenting a gift to his crush for the first time.

“For you.”

Her brows quirk up. “For me?”

He nods. “Who else?”

“I don’t know, thought you might be just making a pit stop.” She takes the bouquet first, taking the time to admire the assortment of flowers. “Thank you. These are beautiful.”

After getting it situated in an old jar from under the sink she takes the small gift bag. Setting it on the kitchen counter, she starts to pull things out.

“Is this …” she trails off as she studies the items on the counter.

“It’s the special knife spoon thing you talked about. The one that is designed to get all the peanut butter out the jar. And I got you another set of those small and long wooden spoons.”

She doesn't say anything for a moment and continues staring at his offerings.

While scratching the nape of his neck he says, “Sorry, it was hard to find an apology gift that is meaningful and yet wouldn’t make you mad because I spent a shitload of money on it. I’ll get you a proper gift soon but I didn’t have too much time because of, you know, the –“

“Harry,” she cuts him off firmly, “I love it, thank you. It means a lot, really.” Stepping forward, she wraps her arms around him, squeezing tightly, cheek pressed comfortably against his body.

His heart tightens in his chest. He’s missed this. He was afraid he might never experience this again.

“I’m sorry. Please forgive me. I feel like all I’ve done since coming back is apologise but I need you to forgive me one more time, please. I really am sorry. I didn’t mean anything I said. You know that, right? I … I was just irrationally jealous and hurt that I wanted to hurt you too. It’s fucked up, but it’s the truth. You’ll only get the truth from now on. I promise. Please believe me.”

How can she not believe him?

The extra precautions taken to keep her anonymity as much as possible while also making sure she could be as involved in his life as she wants. Years of texts, calls, and everything in between where they exposed their truest selves to each other without fear of judgement. Even the way he is holding her now, breath racing in and out, like he might break down if she doesn’t believe him.

“H, I believe you. The things you said … they were fucked. But I can’t stay mad at you, even if I tried.”

Shaking his head, he mumbles into her hair, “Thank you. Thank you. You’re too good for me. You shouldn’t make it so easy for a guy, you deserve grovelling. And I will, I’m not done making it up to you.”

They both hug each other tighter, gripping the fabric on each other’s backs.

“I don’t need grovelling; you’ve already done so much. Besides, you bought me my first bouquet of flowers in like four years and you got me presents that tell me you pay attention to me. I rambled to you about loving small spoons with long handles and how much I hate not being able to clean out the peanut butter jar ages ago, and somehow you were actually listening and remembered.”

“That wanker never got you flowers?”

She rolls her eyes. “No, too practical for that. And for small spoons too.” She coughs to clear her throat. “Also, you’re allowed to curse him you. You were right.”

“About what?” Harry asks.

She makes no effort to explain, simply shrugging her shoulders in faux nonchalance. There’s a brief silence once again, then, a chill shoots up his spine. He places his hands on her forearms and pushes her far back enough to be able to see her face.

“No. Fucking. Way.”

“Not now, please. Can we talk about it later? I missed you and I don’t want to think about him.”

Of course. He never wants to think about Richard more than necessary anyways.

“Okay, I don’t want him ruining our time together. I want to spend time with my best girls.”

-

Harry ended up staying the night.

He woke up with Charlie’s head tucked under his, and her knees curled into herself on his lap. Despite the kink in his neck and the knot between his shoulders, he can’t bring himself to separate from her. The heat emanating from her body warms him in a way that soothes him. Their bodies haven’t been this close in forever, not since they were children and had sleepovers in the backyard where they always somehow woke up curled into each other.  

Growing up together meant going through that awkward stage of being afraid to get too touchy with each other, and by the time they moved past that, they had both started developing real crushes and entering relationships with other people. Harry thought they were pretty affectionate for platonic friends anyways, but the way they’re intertwined now makes him realise that they can be so much closer, so, so much closer.

Charlie’s face is right there. He can see every crevice, bump, and wrinkle on her skin. His eyes can’t help but trace every feature - round her eyes, down the slope of her nose, and across her lips. He can’t pull his eyes away from her lips. They sit together so perfectly, in the perfect pout, begging to be pinched, bitten, and kissed. Begging to be pinched, bitten, and kissed by him specifically.

He doesn’t notice his face inching towards hers until their noses brush, causing her to tense in his arms. Harry freezes, watching tentatively as her lips purse and eyes squeeze tightly together.

“Uhhmm?” she groans.

Harry slowly moves his hand up and down Charlie’s back hoping to ground her as she slowly wakes up.

“It’s me, darling. Harry.”

“Hmm? H?”

She’s so precious. Harry feels like his heart might burst from how hard it’s beating.

“I’m right here. Good morning.”

With a big huff, her eyes blink open. Her forehead is pinched with confusion as she takes in her surroundings. Slowly pulling her arm from under his body, she reaches up and places her hand on Harry’s face, patting his cheek a couple of times as if trying to make sure he's really there.

With a little chuckle, he covers her hand with his, holding it in place on his cheek. Tilting his head slightly, he presses a small kiss to her palm. “Darling, I’m here. I came over yesterday and we fell asleep on the couch. Remember?”

Satisfied with his explanation, Charlie lets her body go lax against his.

Harry can’t help but smile at the way she trusts him, even half asleep.

Despite being forgiven almost immediately, there’s still a sense of uneasiness that he cannot shake. All of that is in his head though because Charlie has done nothing to make him feel uncertain. The looks, touches, and words they shared yesterday can only be described as tender, both of them obviously still emotionally fragile.

Richard’s fuck up is still unknown to Harry. He doesn’t care though. Not right now anyways. He got to kiss Rory’s cheeks until she erupted into excited giggles and watch as her gorgeous eyes slowly fluttered shut as she fell asleep in his rocking arms. Then, a tired but smiley Charlie tucked herself against him as they watched tv and talked about life with their heads pressed together.

But the feel good atmosphere of yesterday has dissipated, both of them forced to return to reality under the morning sunlight.

A strong vibration bursts their bubble.

When Charlie tries to peel herself from Harry, his arm quickly circles her waist to keep her close to him as he leans to grab his phone on the coffee table.

“Hello?” his voice is gruff from sleep. “I know … I’ll be there on time. I said I’ll be there … yes I know what I’m doing. Okay, bye.”

Talk about returning to reality.

“You need to go,” she says, not asks.

He nods. “I uh, didn’t get in my car to London this morning so they’re just wondering where I am. I have a show there tonight.”

Right. Harry just kicked off his new tour and suddenly appeared at her door after the first show.

The air around them is still as the two friends try to make sense of all that’s happened.

“Of course, you’re an important man.”

“Not too important for you and Rory.”

“I know.”

“I’m sorry we didn’t get to talk, like properly, last night, but I promise I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

“I’m glad you came, H, and Rory was thrilled to see you. She missed you, a lot. I’ve played your album so much she recognises your voice.”

Harry’s eyes pretty much glaze over at the thought. “Thank you for letting be in her life”

Charlie shakes her head and grabs his hands that have started to tremble. “You don’t need to thank me. I can't imagine you not being in her life. We’re Harry and Charlie, so I'm stuck with you.”

“You’re too good to me,” he whispers, “And we’re Harry, Charlie, and Rory.”

He has to bite his bottom lip to stop himself from saying everything he wants to say. With the last bit of self-control left in his body, he rests his forehead against hers as they lock eyes.

Then, a loud buzzing emanates from the coffee table again. With a frustrated huff, his eyes shut.

“Hey,” she squeezes his hand, “your fans need you.”

They emerge from their little cocoon on the sofa in silence, moving wordlessly in sync as Harry pays Rory one last visit, then leaves for London after a tight hug from his best friend.

As Charlie shuts the door behind her, she can’t help but feel that her living room now feels a little empty. All that’s left is the weight of everything left unsaid between them lingering in the air.

-

Better Homes and Gardens Exclusive: Harry Styles Shares the Meaning Behind His New Album, 'Harry's House'

Pop music’s most sought after man has a new album coming out and the world is excited. This new release comes from a relatively quiet quarantine period from Styles. He was set to kick off his world tour for his last album, Fine Line, when travel and group restrictions worldwide were announced, and his world went quiet all of a sudden.

His new album showcases an unexpected domestic side to his glistening life. Themes of family, belonging, and domestic bliss shine through so evidently that I can’t help but wonder if all of this is hypothetical or anecdotal.

I bite the bullet and ask. Before I get an answer, he lets out a small laugh, as if he has been expecting it.

“It’s definitely not an autobiography but all the songs come from a very real place in my life. The best thing about writing from real life is that as time passes my relationship with these songs change. Even from when I wrote them up to now, some of these songs listen completely different.”

I ask if that is good or bad. “Depends”, he says after ruminating to himself, “it depends on whether there are any fresh wounds.” Right now, he confesses, some wounds are pretty fresh. “Some are hard to listen to and I’m a little nervous to sing them if I’m honest.”

His earnestness is hard to miss – it shines through in his eyes and his voice. Tucked away in our little corner of the coffeeshop, I can’t help but feel like my high school crush has somehow decided to confide in me and unveil what’s beneath the good looks and charm. I feel almost privileged to be the chosen one, entrusted with his sincerity and vulnerability.

There is nothing manmade or artificial about this man – at least not when it comes to his music. He speaks about each song with so much passion, excitement, and on a couple of occasions, uncertainty. That took me by surprise. He has learnt to let go of needing to be well liked by every listener, he tells me proudly, but the need to impress those he loves will forever be there. Whether that is a strength or a weakness he has yet to figure out.

“That need is almost stronger now. Sometimes songs become a kind of coded message for those who know what I’m singing about. And it’s scary, waiting for a reaction or some approval,” he confesses.

“I spent so much time at home this past year, but I felt like my actual home is someplace else, somewhere that I couldn’t be at that moment in time.  Allowing myself to feel everything that I felt and reflect on why I’m feeling these things helped me make sense of all of that. Now I know where my home is, or at least I know where to go to find it.”

From the way he speaks I get the impression that he needs this album to be heard by some people. Not everyone, but a select few. Even though these songs weren’t necessarily written for me, I can’t help but feel excited to enter Harry’s House.

-

Charlie misses Harry. Like really misses Harry. Getting that little taste of him unlocked the door of longing deep within her and now it won’t shut. Like when you skip lunch then eat a cracker a couple hours later, unleashing a wave of insatiable hunger that can only be made quiet by eating until you cannot breathe anymore.

Basically, she needs so much of Harry until she cannot breathe. Until all she can think about is him.

Something changed. The moment she shut the door behind him that fateful morning, it was like a switch flipped and all she could do from then on is think about him. She’s missed him before, of course, but she’s never quite like this.

She can’t remember if anyone has ever looked at her so tenderly before. Harry’s definitely the most attentive man she’s ever met. Maybe it’s because she has the shitshow of a conversation with Richard to compare it to, but Harry said sorry, and for some reason that was more than enough for her.

Is she an idiot for choosing to believe a man’s words after just being lied to by another? Perhaps. Unfortunately, there is nothing she can do about it. Everything in her wants Harry.

The only contact she’s had with him since he left is a couple of texts. They’ve been casual, nothing too serious – he likes to have serious conversations in person – but enough to let her know that he’s still thinking about her.

“What do you think Rory? You’re a smart girl, right? You latched onto Harry but didn’t really want to play along with Richard, so what gave it away huh? Why didn’t you tell your mummy?”

The dangerous thing about getting too attached to Harry – that is, getting attached in a non-platonic way or in a father-figure to Rory kind of way – is that she’ll grow too dependent on him for assurance. Hearing him tell her that she is a good mother affected her more than she would like to admit. His words already hold too much weight, it would not be smart to give him more authority.

If the Richard catastrophe had to have a silver lining, it made Charlie realise that she needs to get her shit together and live up to the whole ‘strong, independent woman’ thing. She went from being satisfied in her own little world where all that mattered was her and her daughter, to feeling like Rory needed Richard’s love to be complete, as if her as a mother was not enough.

So, as much as her heart hates that Harry’s not here, her brain knows it’s for the best. She hasn’t had a moment like this in a while. Just her and her daughter having a quiet moment together. Sometimes she thinks it’s weird that she's a grown adult with a very adult job with very adult responsibilities, but she speaks to her year old daughter as if she’s a colleague, full sentences and everything.

“You like Harry, huh. What’d you think you’ll call him when you can speak? Uncle Harry? Or just Harry maybe. If you come up with some sort of cute nickname for him, he’ll love it.”

Rory looks up at her with a toy truck in her mouth, drool basically dripping off the toy.

Reaching for a tissue, Charlie sighs with amusement. “You’re just an angel aren’t you.”

-

It’s about two months later that Charlie and Harry reunite in person. He carved out a free couple of weeks and invited Charlie and Rory down to his flat in London for a ‘sleepover’, as he so put it.

Everything is sorted out for the both of you to stay over. The cot I ordered for Rory has already arrived so you can’t say no. xx

He greets them in the underground carpark. Charlie first sees him when the car he chartered pulls up in front of the lift lobby. With hands clasped behind his back, he has his eyes glued to the entrance, a smile breaking out on his face when he spots them.

After opening the door for them, his hands reconvene behind his back. She can tell they are tightly clenched from the way his forearms flex.

“Hi,” he says, voice a little tentative. He still doesn’t make a move to touch her.

“Hi,” she replies.

She can tell Harry is itching to do something - hug her or kiss her on the cheek - literally anything. His self-restraint is impressive, but she decides to put him out of his misery.

“Can you help bring Rory up please? I’ve got my hands full with the bags.”

He’s nodding instantly. The moment Charlie moves away from the door he’s swooping in to unbuckle the little girl gleefully.

“Hi my little monkey. C’mere.” His voice is soft and intimate.

Harry carries Rory on his front in the baby byon on the lift ride up. Charlie can’t pull her eyes away from their reflection in the mirror the entire time, and Harry can’t pull his eyes from Rory, who is taking in the new surroundings with curious eyes, swinging her chubby little legs back and forth.

Charlie wants to tattoo this image onto the inside of her brain.

It’s almost frightening how easily they slip back into their domestic routine. Apart from the slight tentativeness in their actions, they move around the space with complete familiarity. Before he puts Rory down, he makes sure to look at Charlie for approval first, and when she starts exploring his living room on wobbly steps, he makes sure to trail behind her, ready to grab her if she tries to walk into furniture.

He’s not sure if it’s all in his head, but Rory seems to have become a toddler in his short absence, which makes his heart ache a little. His desire to be there to witness Rory growing up probably crosses some sort of line, especially since Charlie made it clear that he is not a part of their family, however, out of all the inappropriate thoughts he has about Charlie, this one about watching Rory grow up is definitely the tamest.

“She’s basically a teenager now,” he jokes, successfully eliciting a giggle from Charlie.

With a prideful smile, she says, “She’s definitely a smart girl. There’s a song of yours she can recognise. When it plays it public she’ll give me a cheeky look and do a little dance.”

Harry’s head whips around to face her. “Really?”

She nods.

“What song? Do you have a video?”

Her face falters a little. “I don’t have any videos, sorry. It was mainly when we … you know.”

“Oh, right. It’s a new one then.” She nods again. “Thank you for letting me still be part of her life, even though we were –“

“- yeah.” They standing silence watching the exploring baby. “Like I said, I can’t hate you. And I would never make my daughter hate you too.”

He coughs to clear his throat. “What if … what if I want more?”

“More? Well, you’re her godfather, her only godfather, that hasn’t changed. And now that she … now that the father figure role is vacant again, you have her all to yourself.”

“Actually, I meant … um,” he scratches the back of his head, diverting his eyes. He chickens out. “Um, will you tell me about what happened with Richard?”

Charlie lets out a huff and rolls her eyes. She recounts what happened as briefly as possible, distilling Richard’s big villain monologue to only the salient bits, for her sake more than Richard’s.

“Huh,” he pinches his bottom lip, “wanker.”

“Yeah,” she replies, surprised that he doesn’t say more.

“I’m sorry though.”

“Why are you sorry? Richard’s shitty behaviour has nothing to do with you.”

Is this the right time to tell her that Richard’s ego competition with him was not just all in his head? That whenever Richard’s around Harry makes sure to be a bit more attentive and a bit more of a gentleman? That he gets all smug inside when Charlie’s friends tell him what a good boyfriend he’d be? And that he definitely makes sure to shoot Richard a small smirk whenever their eyes meet at parties?

Probably not.

In his defence, Harry owns up to his petty jealousy.

“Because he wouldn’t have come back to mess with you if those photos never got posted. And being slightly less of a dick than him doesn’t say much. The both of you mean so much to me, I panicked and got insecure, so I lashed out and said those fucked up things.”

“Insecure? Because of Richard?”

His nose scrunches, embarrassed. “He was never my biggest fan, and I just knew that once he got the chance, he would find a way to keep Rory away from me, keep you away from me. That’s like my worst nightmare. And being the main man in Rory’s life, Richard doesn’t deserve that. It’s entitled, selfish, and very wrong, but I can’t help it.”

Charlie goes silent at his little confession. “You’d only spent like, two weeks with Rory. I didn’t realise you’d care so much so quickly.”

“I fell in love with her the moment I heard about her. I felt betrayed and angry, but also enamoured, instantly. I didn’t even need to see her. I missed her before I met her.”

To say that Charlie loves Harry would not only be an understatement, but a mistranslation of something so intense and all consuming. Where had this man come from and why hadn’t she noticed sooner.

“Harry, I –“

“- even if I never got to see her again, I would still think about her, all the time. Just like how I’m always thinking about you.”

Their eyes lock in an intense stare, neither knowing what to do next.

Blinking away some rogue tears, Charlie closes her mouth that involuntarily fell slightly agape and crosses the short distance to make her way to Harry. With trembling hands, she interlaces her fingers with his and squeezes.

“I’m afraid that if I say everything I want to tell you, you’ll get scared and run away.” His voice is hushed. If they weren’t standing so close, she would not have heard him.

“I want to hear them.”

“Okay,” he replies. He’s smiling shyly now.

They both linger in the silence as if instinctively knowing that the rest of this conversation has to happen later. That neither of them are brave enough to have this conversation yet.

That night, he brings his girls out for ramen at his favourite spot. They sit facing each other in a booth at the back of the restaurant with Rory at the head of the table in a baby chair. He asks for the baby chair and a set of smaller utensils without any prompting, in fact, Charlie didn't get the chance to bring it up. He gets his favourite tonkatsu ramen and she gets the shio. When the two steaming bowls get placed in front of them, he reaches for Rory’s bowl, again unprompted, and puts in a couple strands of ramen and some soup, making sure to cut up the noodles with a fork and blow on it until it seems cool enough. In between bites of his own food, he checks to make sure Rory is eating her dinner okay, peeking into her little plastic bowl to make sure she’s not running low on food, as if he’s done this a thousand times before.

Conversation at the table is minimal. Apart from some comments about the food and the restaurant, the main thing that can be heard from their table is baby babble and slurping.

Charlie likes it this way, she thinks, being able to soak in this moment without any urgency to clear the air or lay everything out on the table. Her heart's aflutter the entire time. To anyone in the restaurant, they just look like a regular family having dinner together and this normalcy is quite frankly making her freak out inside.

Dinner ends relatively early – they need to get back in time for bedtime. The guest bedroom now has a cot in it, the exact one Charlie has back home. He’s a little nervous when Charlie starts examining the stuff he bought. He’s not nervous that he bought the wrong stuff, he’s nervous that she’ll think it’s strange that he knew exactly what to get, that he memorised Rory’s bedtime routine all the way down to the temperature of the room.

She doesn’t comment on anything, of course, she just looks at him with stars in her eyes.

-

This trip to London is supposed to be a holiday for Charlie, or at least that is what Harry intended. Fine, a city she’s been to dozens of times is not much of a holiday, but Rory has never been out of Manchester, and he stays in a luxury apartment complex complete with a pool and spa.

In his head, he would kiss Charlie goodbye (just on the forehead for now) and head to rehearsals with Rory on his hip, giving her the whole day to enjoy some time to herself. In reality, the uncertainty when he proposes his idea might as well have been written across her face.

“That sounds nice H, but … this is her first time away from home and I don’t really feel okay with not having here with me.” Charlie’s voice suddenly gets louder when she realises what she is implying. “Not to say that I don’t trust you or anything, you’re her godfather of course, but it’s been –“

“Hey, I get it. Don’t worry about it, I’m not offended. I just want you to have some actual time off. You’ve been through quite a lot these past months.”

“I appreciate it, I really do. No one’s quite as thoughtful as you, H.”

Harry turns away to put away their dishes from dinner in the sink, making sure to tuck his face into his chest as best he can to try and to hide the flush blooming on his cheek.

“Well, I’ve got rehearsals tomorrow but my whole evening is free and there’s a Korean restaurant that’s really good. Let me take you, yeah.”

With her back still turned to him, she teases, “Are you asking me out, Styles?”

“Um, we eat together all the time and I would never –“

“Oh, you would never,” she interrupts in mock offence, “I got the picture.”

“That’s not what I meant. The whole Richard thing was so recent I would never try to do anything.”

“H,” she turns to put her hands on his now tense shoulders, “I was just teasing. Korean sounds good. Thanks, H.”

“I’m happy to,” he says, tilting his head back to bump Charlie’s head.

And he means it.

-

“Hi,” Charlie calls out as she knocks on the door, “sorry we’re early but one of us got a little grumpy. Hope we’re not interrupting.”

Every head in the soundproof room whips around at the new voice. But the person she came in looking for was not one of them.

“Charlie!” Sarah exclaims excitedly, “Hey, not at all we’re almost done. Come in. We haven’t seen you in forever.”

At the mention of her name, everyone else’s face seems to light up with recognition, all joining in with an enthusiastic greeting.

Rory, who was hiding her pouty little face in her mother’s neck, now perks up a tiny bit at the attention.

“And who is this adorable little girl,” Sarah coos, waving a few fingers to try and catch Rory’s attention.

“This is Rory. She might be a little shy because she’s never been around so many people like this before. You wanna say ‘hi’, lovie.” She angles her daughter on her hip to better face Harry’s band and crew.

Despite being in a bad mood the whole day, she refused to take a nap even though she was very patiently rocked for about an hour, Rory is now smiling cheekily, showing off her growing teeth to everyone.

“Can you say ‘hi’?” Charlie prompts again.

Rory drops her head abruptly onto her mother’s cheek. Then, she lets out a noise that vaguely sounds like she’s saying ‘hi’. As if on cue, everyone melts into a puddle of ‘awws’.

“Don’t be fooled she’s not normally this shy. She loves the attention, a little performer.”

With a small smile, Mitch says, “She’s adorable. I see why Harry doesn’t shut up about her. She’s probably his little protégé huh. Maybe our kids can have a little playdate sometime, they’re around the same age.”

“Oh,” Charlie’s caught a little off guard by his revelation, “sure, that sounds nice. She doesn’t get the chance to play with other children too often, I’m worried she won’t learn how to share with how much attention she gets at home.”

“I bet, especially with how much Harry spoils her, huh.”

She can’t stop her cheeks from heating up.

Before she can fruitlessly deny being the object of Harry’s attention, a familiar voice is heard from behind them. “Hey, what’s going on? What are y’all – oh, you guys are early.”

Charlie spins around. “Hi, I hope it’s okay. We didn’t mean to distract everyone.”

“It’s no problem! Monkey is too adorable, how can they not be distracted.” As Harry beelines towards them, his band instinctively makes room for him. “Hi love. Hi monkey.” He gives both Charlie and Rory a kiss on the cheek which causes the little girl to turn her head to look at him. After a couple seconds, her eyes light up with recognition.

Out of the corner of her eye, Charlie sees the band exchange knowing glances.

No longer wanting to be the centre of attention, she insists that everyone get back to work, making her way to the sofa in the corner before anyone can object. (The only person who objects is Rory who tries to make silly faces at her audience for as long as she can.)

“Let’s finish rehearsing so that we can end on time. We don’t want monkey to get too hungry,” Harry instructs.

On the sofa, Charlie sits Rory down next to her. She digs in her handbag for the toys that she always carries with her to hopefully keep her daughter from interrupting the rehearsal. Before she can hand the car to Rory, a larger hand extends into her line of vision with a small pair of green headphones.

“Here, these are for monkey. They should fit her, I double checked to make sure they ordered the right size. I told the band to try and keep it a little quieter, we’ve only got a couple songs left, but just in case maybe she should wear it.”

“You got baby headphones for Rory?”

“Yeah, I want her to come see a show eventually, especially since you said she can recognise my voice, so I went ahead and got these.” The headphones exchange hands and his go behind his back immediately. “I’m not trying to pressure you by the way I was just …”

“H, you don’t need to walk around eggshells around me, or assume that I doubt your intentions.” She quickly scans the room. Satisfied that the other in the room are occupied, she assures softly, “I know you’re not Richard.”

The relief that takes over his body is hard to miss. “I just want to take care of her, and you. The last time I tried to do that I went too far. I don’t want to make that mistake again.”

It’s a surprise that Charlie can see anything because she’s sure she has hearts for eyes. Slow down, don’t get carried away. The reminder doesn’t work, none of the remaining rehearsal registers in her mind, the only time she manages to break out of her reverie is when her daughter starts squirming next to her and trying to take the headphones off. She somehow managed to understand that the music has stopped, so she’s allowed to take them off.

While she’s putting everything back into her purse, Harry thanks everyone for a good rehearsal and sends everyone off with applause. Rory, who has now crawled off the couch, joins in with the excitement by clapping her tiny hands together. Despite producing a negligible amount of noise, Harry manages to see her in his periphery.

“That’s right monkey. Say ‘yay’,” he says while slowly crouching down to meet her eyes. “Say ‘yay’, monkey.”

“Yay!” Rory chimes back.

Harry looks up to meet Charlie’s eyes as if wanting confirmation that that actually happened.

With a downward smile and raised eyebrows, she shoots him a tiny head nod as silent acknowledgement.

When they finally leave for dinner, Harry has Rory in one hand and Charlie’s purse hanging off the other, leaving Charlie to wave goodbye to everyone with a shy smile knowing exactly what this scene looks like.

-

Tonight doesn’t feel like any of the previous nights.  

For a start, Rory isn’t within arms reach of Charlie. And instead of wearing one of the many sensible outfits she brought with her she’s somehow in a dress worth more than her monthly pay.

Harry’s label is throwing a release party tonight, something he conveniently forgot to mention when convincing her to come down to London. An hour into the night, Charlie finds herself sipping on her second glass of champagne and people watching from the sofa at the edge of the room. The dim lights and loud music make her feel safe, like a protective blanket offering some level of anonymity. Not that the party is particularly unsafe. She’s been to enough of Harry’s work events to not feel completely like a fish out of water – smile politely when he introduces her, nurse a glass of whatever to give her hands something to do, and cling to Harry until all the attention becomes too overwhelming. She’s on step three right now, hence the sitting. 

Her palm is damp from the condensation from her glass, the champagne now edging on the side of too warm, but she’s too tired to be bothered, her vision having settled on a comfortable level of blurry.

“Long night?” a voice interrupts.

Her head snaps up to see an unfamiliar man looking down at her with a confident smile.

“Uh, yeah.”

The man moves to sit next to her, forcing her to angle her body to face him.

“I don’t think I’ve had the pleasure of meeting you. I’m Wes.”

She plasters on her polite grin once again and covertly takes a deep breath. “Hi, I’m Charlie. Nice to meet you,” she introduces as she shakes his hand.

“So, why are you sitting all alone with a half drunk glass of bubbly? The night is still young.”

“The night might be but I’m not,” she plays along.

The volume of Wes’ laugh is disproportionate to how funny her joke is.

“Do you want a little pick me up? I’d love if I could have one dance with you.”

Her brows raise when her brain catches on to what is happening. “I don’t know if I have any more dancing left in me,” she says as if she has done any dancing tonight at all.

“That’s fair. Talking’s fine with me too.”

“Oh, you don’t have to sit here with me, I’m fine by myself. Go have fun, find someone else to dance with. The night’s still young after all.”

“Well, you happen to be the most interesting person in the room right now, so I don’t mind sitting here with you.”

Wes’ voice is buttery smooth and his confidence is alluring. Normally her face would flush under all the attention of a self-assured man, however she isn’t feeling it tonight.

“Oh, I don’t know about that. Actually, I –“

“There you are. I’ve been looking all over for you. Hey, you’re Waz right?”

“Wes, but yeah. Hey Harry, congratulations.”

“Sorry to interrupt, I need to borrow Charlie.”

Without giving Wes room to dispute, Harry tugs Charlie to her feet by the bicep, ditches her champagne flute after shooting the rest of the alcohol, and leads her to the baby room where Rory and Sarah’s baby is being cared for by a babysitter.

When the door shuts behind her, she asks, “You needed me?”

“Hmm?” Harry hums absentmindedly as he peeks into Rory’s stroller.

“You said you needed me?” she tries again.

“Right. I was bored and wanted your company.” He punctuates his words with a dismissive shrug.

“Harry!”

“What? I missed you.”

“Is that all? Really?”

He shrugs again. She rolls her eyes, yet she can’t stop smiling.

They sit on the floor, shoulder to shoulder, backs pressed against the wall in the silent room. Their only companions are the two babies who are sound asleep, and the babysitter who is sitting on a chair in the corner, trying her hardest to seem preoccupied with her phone.

There could be a hundred other people squeezed into this tiny room, but Charlie would still feel like they are the only two people present. Harry just has that effect on her. His talent for making her feel seen and wanted is astounding.

Sitting facing a plain white wall, Harry starts talking about anything and everything. In the middle of his extensive review of all the dessert options at the refreshments table, her hand finds his and interlocks their fingers tightly. She slouches down to rest her head on his bicep. He reciprocates without missing a beat, cheek resting on the top of her head. She can feel his every breath and she’s sure he can feel the same.

She doesn’t notice that her eyes have closed until a loud buzz emits from Harry’s pocket. He doesn’t move to address it, so she lets herself get comfortable again, only to be interrupted again by a stream of vibrations.

“H, your phone.”

“Sorry,” he mutters. His hand enters and exits his pocket quickly then reaches over to encourage her head to lay on his shoulder again.

“Go check it, it may be important.”

He shakes his head. “Nah.”

They return to their conversation with Harry rambling and Charlie humming in affirmation or disagreement. As her eyes flutter shut again, comforted by the low rumbling of his voice, she focuses on his thumb that is now drawing little circles on her palm to stay awake. It doesn’t work very well because she does fall asleep and is only woken up by harsh whispers.

“… this was done for you, so it would be nice if you could be present at your own party. Everyone has been coming up to me to ask about you. And why aren’t you reading my texts?”

“I am present. I’ve said ‘hi’ to everyone, thanked all the important people, and posed for all the photos.”

“But you’re now hiding here. Doing none of those things.”

“Shh, Charlie is asleep, and so are the babies. Don’t raise your voice.”

“Why are you in here playing babysitter when you are supposed to be mingling and making connections?”

“I’m Harry Styles. That trumps whatever connections I could make.”

Then, there’s a loud smacking sound. Her eyes are still shut but any idiot could guess that the Jeff just smacked his forehead in exasperation. She would too if Harry said something so stupid to her.

“At least say goodbye and thank everyone before you leave, okay? Can you do that one thing.”

“Yes dad.”

Charlie gives up her ruse when she hears the door shut. Peeking out of one eye, she whispers, “Is Jeff gone?”

“You cheeky fucker.” Harry cups her jaw and squishes her cheeks together. “You didn’t think to help me out? You just let me get scolded by Jeff?”

She sits up slowly while rubbing her eyes. “Please, you weren’t getting scolded. I’m Harry Styles. That trumps whatever connections I could make. Pfft.”

As she tries to stand, tattooed arms curl around her waist, trapping her to his side. “I don’t appreciate you making fun of me when I got us out of trouble.”

She squirms in his arms and tries to wriggle free with no success. The more she moves the tighter his arms get.

“Us? I am not the man of the hour. This party is not for me rockstar.”

He cups the back of her head with a hand to press her full body against him basically tucking her into his side. “Well unfortunately for you I’m not leaving your side for the rest of the night. So, if I have to go out and mingle, so do you.”

“You little bitch. You begged me to come here with you.”

“I’m a little bitch?” he whisper-shouts in mock offence.

They start play wrestling in their little corner of the room, completely forgetting that there is a stranger in there with them. Their exchange of tickles and pinches causes them to topple over so that they’re now lying on the ground, Charlie’s body pressing into Harry’s with his arms still circling her waist. When they eventually tire themselves out, they remain stacked on top of each other trying to catch their breath.

He starts playing with the ends of her hair, twirling strands around his fingers then releasing it, only to start twirling it again. Lying with the woman who occupies all of his heart, mucking about on the dirty floor, Harry doesn’t think he has felt this content in a long time.

“Thank you for being here with me, it wouldn’t feel right if we didn’t speak throughout this release.”

“Well, I had to be here, for continuity’s sake, I’ve been there since your shitty X Factor audition.” Charlie clears her throat dramatically, then starts to croon, “Isn’t she lovely, isn’t she –“

“Hey fuck you,” Harry says between giggles and starts to tickle her again.

The door suddenly whips open, Jeff’s stern expression in the doorway.

“Good, nap time is over. Now, go mingle with the guests, please.”

Like reluctant children, Charlie and Harry detangle themselves and straighten their clothes, then dart out the door without making eye contact with Jeff. The moment they are out of Jeff’s eyeline, Harry grabs her hand and tugs her towards him, then shoots her a mischievous grin, like a kid with a secret. His energy is infectious, so, she returns the smile and glues herself to his side gleefully, tucking the moment they shared into a safe space in her brain.

It’s well past three in the morning by the time they’re stumbling out of the car, shushing each other repeatedly to avoid waking Rory up. Neither of them are drunk, that would be irresponsible because Rory is with them, but they are certainly not sober either. Harry has Rory’s car seat hooked on his elbow and he digs into his pocket to produce the house keys for Charlie. They ditch their shoes by the door before heading off to get ready for bed. Harry beelines toward the guest room to get Rory settled and Charlie starts doing the nightly check around the house.

Charlie is applying moisturiser when she hears gentle knocks on the door.

Harry stands behind the door in his boxers.

“Miss me already?” she teases.

He nods. Without thinking, she pinches his bottom lip that is jutting out in a pout. “Can we have a sleepover?”

She lets out a small giggle. "Okay."

He peeks into Rory’s crib before crawling into bed. The length of the day is evident in his face and yet, she can’t help but think he looks adorable with nothing but his head peeking out from under the duvet.  

When they started secondary school, they had mutually agreed that they were now too old to have sleepovers. Their usual ‘boy-girl’ activities had to be minimised because they didn’t ‘like each other like that’. Despite being supportive of this decision, Harry remembers how much lonelier his life had become once they stopped spending as much time with each other. He missed getting hello and goodbye hugs, and the way they would lean against each other whenever they would watch tv. The next time they exchanged more than a brief side hug was before his audition. Charlie had grabbed his shaking hands, gave them a firm squeeze, then wrapped him in a hug so tight that he felt his breath catch. His eyes had shut on instinct from the suddenness of everything and the sudden rush of heat that zipped up his body when he felt her body press against his.

Now that Harry has acknowledged that what he feels towards Charlie goes beyond the usual ‘boy-girl’ friendship, he wants to be close to her all the time. He flips onto his belly and rests an arm over her stomach. When that faces no resistance, he curls his fingers around her waist and wiggles closer until he can feel her body heat.

“You mean so much to me,” he mumbles into the pillow, “I need to tell you how much I love you.”

Her body goes rigid under his arm. Neither of them move, their breaths audible in the silence.

“You mean a lot to me too, H,” she whispers.

He sighs.

“Sleep,” he orders, “but stay close to me.”

“Okay, I’m right here.”

-

Harry wakes when a cold breeze creeps its way under the duvet. Just as he reaches for the edge of the duvet, his arm is mysteriously enrobed in warmth again. It takes a second for the action to register and when it does, he forces his eyes open. With half-shut eyes, he takes in the bed he’s on – familiar but not his own.

Charlie.

He’s still on his stomach, arm stretched out over where his companion was. The rustling from the duvet as he moves to sit up against the headboard alerts the room that he’s awake. As he rubs the sleep from his eyes, he spots Charlie who is standing by the crib holding Rory.

He smiles softly at the sight. “Hi.”

“Hi,” she returns his smile. “You can go back to sleep. Rory was just a little fussy in her crib.”

“Bring her here.”

She hesitates for a moment, then makes her way back to the bed. Once Rory is placed on the soft surface, she immediately tries to walk to the middle of the bed, but the plush duvet is too much for her little limbs and she ends up plopping onto her belly with a shocked expression.

Harry giggles at the sweet girl then reaches forward to pick her up by her underarms. “C’mere,” he whispers, then kisses her chubby cheek. “Good morning, monkey.”

“She’ll start whining for breakfast soon. I can take her to the living room if you want to sleep some more.”

He shakes his head with a pout. “I wanna snuggle until breakfast.”

Rory settles against Harry’s bare chest, gnawing on her fist and slobbering all over, completely unbothered by the fact that she’s skin-to-skin with a man for the first time. Charlie joins them under the covers, eyes never leaving her daughter, trying to take in the scene before her. The thought of lying in bed with her daughter and a man she loves had never crossed her mind. Not even before Richard left the first time. Her heart feels like it might beat out of her chest. Like there’s not enough space in her chest to accommodate the amount of love she feels in heart. Even though she woke up with her mind swirling from what Harry said to her before they fell asleep, right now, she can’t think of anything other than how nice this feels.

She leaves about an inch between herself and Harry which is obviously not close enough for him because he wiggles closer to her and rest his head on her shoulder. With the hand not resting on Rory’s back, Harry pats around until he finds hers and intertwines their fingers again.

Unable to help herself, Charlie comments, “You’ve been touchy recently.”

After a quiet minute, Harry asks, “Is that okay?”

“It’s okay,” she replies without thinking twice.

“Can I tell you how much I love you now?”

“Okay,” her whisper is weak.

He takes a deep breath.

“I love you. And I know I love you because no one has made me feel the way you do. I’ve only just accepted that it’s different with you. No one makes me as happy, no one makes me as mad, no one makes me as jealous – I just, I could not function when we weren’t speaking, I’d never felt scared like that before, and I never want to feel like that ever again, I never want to have to worry about never getting to be with you. And you love me too, you have to.”

“Harry.” Harry’s neck aches under the strain of looking up at her. His watches her throat work as she swallows, anxious for her to say more. When she does, it comes in a small whisper, “I love you.”

She doesn’t have to force it past a knot or squeeze it out of her throat. It simply floats out of her, like a sigh of relief.

“Yeah?” Harry’s voice is shaky.

“Yeah.” Charlie’s voice is certain.

Tilting her head down to meet his eyes, she just stares at him with a stupid, toothy grin. Her best friend. Her lover. 

They don’t get to say anything more because Rory knows how to pick her moments and she picks this one. She demands breakfast by wiping her slobbery hand on Harry’s chest, looking up at him expectantly.

By now they’ve spent many mornings like this – Rory sitting in her high chair while the adults move around the kitchen preparing breakfast together – and yet it’s somehow more special today. For a start, Harry and Charlie both wear small smiles the whole time, and whenever they bump into each other or cross paths their eyes dart away shyly, as if they didn’t declare their love to each other a minute ago.

Breakfast is apple cinnamon oatmeal topped with Charlie’s favourite peanut butter (that mysteriously appeared in Harry’s kitchen a couple days ago), with a side of coffee and shy glances over the top of coffee mugs.

He is the first to break the silence. “What are ya thinking about?”

“You.”

“Oh yeah,” he’s smirking now, “what about me?”

Charlie averts her gaze and shrugs coyly.

“Can I tell you what I’m thinking about?” She nods. “I’m thinking about you in that dress from last night. When I saw you in it, my first thought was: I should’ve wanked in the shower.”

“Harry!” she scolds, “My daughter is right here.”

“She doesn’t know what I’m saying.”

“Is this what being in a relationship with you is like? You being incredibly inappropriate?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

She groans and rolls her eyes, getting up to put the dishes in the sink.

Behind her, Harry calls out in a tone that’s only half joking, “For real though, would you like to know?”

She stays silent just to get on his nerves. It doesn’t take long for him to get out of his chair. An arm wraps around her as his body presses up against her.

He drops his voice and whispers in her ear, “Please say you would like to know.”

“I would like to know,” she admits finally. She drops her head back to rest on his shoulder and presses a kiss to the bottom of his jaw.

His face almost immediately turns scarlet. He can’t wait to get used to this.

They next have time alone when Rory has her afternoon nap. The magic of their initial declarations of love fades a little as they sit facing each other with cups of tea on the sofa. Charlie wants to wait for Harry to break the silence, but she knows he’s taking cues from her. She knows he’s careful to not push things too fast after already taking the first step this morning.

With a deep breath, she lays all her cards on the table.

She tells him that despite how assured she is of their feelings for each other, she can’t help but feel hesitant jumping into a new relationship right now. That even though she knows that he loves Rory wholeheartedly, if they were to start dating, he would need to take a step back from Rory’s life because she can’t risk her daughter getting attached to him, only for him to disappear if things go wrong between them. That she doesn’t know if she can handle having a ‘boyfriend’ rather than a ‘partner’, because she’s not looking for someone to mess around with but someone to share half her life with.

He tells her that it’s going to be a lot harder to keep their lives to themselves once everyone notices that they’re spending more time with each other, but he’ll do his best to keep them safe. That he’s willing to go as slow as she needs because he has been waiting for years already, so he can handle waiting some more. That he understands her fears and is willing to take a step back with Rory because he’s confident that she’s it for him. That he’ll bear half her burdens if she’ll bear half of his.

“You don’t have to be Rory’s dad, by the way. Being with me will be hard enough with you living away, I don’t expect you to take on that emotional burden too.”

“Hey,” Harry pinches her chin gently to tip her head up to look at him, “I know what I’m signing up for. I want to take care and provide for Rory in whatever capacity you’ll let me. She doesn’t need to call me dad, or daddy, or anything – she can decide what who I am to her when she’s old enough – but please let me be there for her, and you. The only part of my heart that is not occupied by you is occupied by her.”

“I love you.”

“Say it again, please.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too. Can I kiss you now, I’ve been waiting all day?”

She barely completes her nod before Harry’s lips are on hers. His hands cup the sides of her face and their foreheads press together with eagerness. There is no hesitation. Every move intentional.

The kiss is not innocent, but needy.

Charlie runs her hands through his hair then tugs on the hair at the top of his neck to cause him to draw back.

“Wha?” he mumbles.

“I needed to see your face to make sure this is real.”

Harry’s brows furrow as if he’s in pain. “I can’t believe it’s you. I’m so happy it’s you.”

She seals their mouths together again, tilting her head just right to get more of him. Needing to anchor herself, her hands move to his shoulders, clutching on to him as if she’s scared he’ll just disappear.

They kiss, and kiss, and kiss. They kiss until they run out of breath, then dive right back in after a few hurried puffs of air. It’s simultaneously too much and not enough.

Harry has to physically peel himself off of Charlie to get himself to stop. Not that he particularly wanted to stop, he was just getting a little too lightheaded. Both from the giddiness of finally getting to taste her and forgetting to breathe out of excitement. He looks drunk with his slow movements and half-lidded eyes. He feels a little high if he’s being honest.

Not wanting to be too far from her, he rests his forehead on her shoulder and starts giggling to himself.

He can’t believe his luck.

-

Harry’s been crawling into the guest bed every night since. Sleeping in the same bed is not exactly ‘taking it slow’ but when he couldn’t sleep alone anymore after experiencing what it’s like waking up with Charlie, especially when she’s just across the hall.

Lots of good chats have happened in this bed. They’ve discussed how their long distance relationship is going to look like, when they would tell Anne about their new relationship, and whether she’ll be less reluctant to receive his gifts now that they are more than friends.

It’s my love language. The more things you let me buy you, the more I know you love me. She rolled her eyes so hard.

“Are you ever going to tell me which songs on the album are about me?” she asks when they’re curled into each other one night.

“Lots of my songs are about you, or could be about you, but guess.”

“Matilda?”  

“Mmhm,” he affirms. “There’s another.”

She hesitates a little. “Boyfriends?” she asks softly.

“No,” he replies immediately, “if I were to write a song about Richard it would be so blatant and damning that he would be embarrassed to show his face in public again.”

“That’s a little dramatic even for you, rockstar.” After giving it another think, she admits defeat. “I don’t know the other. Tell me.”

“It’s Satellite.”

“Really? I like that one.”

“Yeah.” His voice grows soft. “I actually wrote it long ago, just never felt right on the other albums, but I um … I revisited it after that night. After meeting Rory for the first time.”

“Oh.”

“Turns out I’ve wanted to be with you for years. Knowing that you had a child with Richard made me so envious – he got to be a part of your life in a way that I thought I’d never get a chance to. I didn’t wanna just be in your orbit anymore, I wanna be with you.”

“You’re with me now. You’re here.”

“Yeah, I am.”

“I know Keep Driving is definitely not about me and frankly, I’m glad. You need to keep that shit to yourself from now on.”

“So … you don’t want me singing about how satisfied I make you?” he asks in jest.

“If you plan on making me listen to you sing about us having sex next to your mum and sister, we will never have sex .” When he starts to chuckle, she threatens again, “I’m being serious. I’ve gone over a year without having sex, and I can go longer.”

“That’s because you were having sex with small dick Richard. When I get to love on you the way I want to, you’ll want to let everyone know how good I make you feel.”

“You’re talking big game Mr. Watermelon Sugar.”

Harry pinches her chin to tip her head up. With his lips about an inch from hers, his says in a low voice, “And I plan on delivering.”

He seals his promise by slotting their lips together for what feels like the thousandth time that evening.

After Charlie falls asleep in his arms, Harry forces his eyes to stay open so that he can maximise his time with his best girls. When he can’t fight sleep any longer, his mutters one last ‘I love you’ and drifts off knowing that he’ll get to spend time with his favourite family again the next morning.

-

“Good evening Manchester!” Harry shouts into the microphone. The roar of the crowd widens the grin on his face. “Thank you for choosing to spend your evening with us. I promise that this is going to be a very, very special show.”

He slowly makes his way onto the runway.

“I always love playing shows here because this is basically a hometown show for me. And I don’t know if you guys feel it, but I feel like there is something in the air tonight. Something quite magical.”

The crowd erupts once again.

It’s probably not good practice to talk up one venue too much, that’s why most artists have a pretty standard spiel for every night, but he can’t help himself tonight. Even if he didn’t say it, everyone in the stadium could probably feel it. There is more pep in his step and the adrenaline rushing through his veins has never been this aggressive.

“Manchester, I have a special request for all of you.” He puts a finger to his lips as if he is a shushing the audience. “There are some important audience members amongst you today. So, I need all of you to go extra crazy and have an extra good time, because I’ve got some people to impress. Can you do that for me?

“This next song is for my best friend.”

Harry gets swallowed by screams as the intro to Late Night Talking starts to play.

-

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hstourupdates harry on stage in manchester tonight during late night talking

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harryfan1 wait who did he say that to?

harryfan2 i think he was talking to anne and gemma because he did that in their direction

↳ stylesontour there was another woman with a baby standing with them

↳ directioner1 it was his best friend charlie with them and harry was photographed with her daughter a while ago

↳ stylesfan1 wait what if he was pointing to charlie's baby because he kept looking at them and doing little waves 😩

harryfan3 to be harry's best friend 😭

taglist: @harrysfolklore @behindmygreyeyes @suspectedstyles @celestial-holland @xcaitlin101x @outofthisworl-d @haz-nn @zaynshoes @lissymarie22@duh-dobrik @harrysfinelines @rach2602 @percysaidnever @sunshinemoonsposts @sqrlgrl22

[my-castles-crumbling]

Hi Cas!! I just wanted to say that I am incredibly proud of you for putting a limit on the number of asks/anon advice you reply to. I know that your advice means so much to a lot of people, but I really hope you don't carry it like a weight. I believe everyone is empathetic on some level (you more than most), and I agree that it makes us feel really nice when we help others, but putting a boundary for yourself is always more important.

Please try not to worry about people getting mad or upset. In fact, I honestly feel more confident coming to you for advice now. I mean.....I used to feel a bit hesitant to ask because I didn't want you to be overwhelmed or feel like I was somehow entitled to your reply. I guess it makes me feel more secure to see that you are not supporting us at the expense of yourself. (i hope this makes sense, im not used to expressing myself in english) Besides, if anyone start shit, I will totally fight them.

Anyway, enough mushy stuff. DID YOU SEE TAYLOR'S PARIS PERFORMANCE??? waolom? wasn't my fav song but holy shit that live performance was so amazing!!! I have been rewatching that chorus for hours now. And her new ttpd dress is so pretty!! I will probably die satisfied if she releases another concert film.

sending you lots of love! give minnie a forehead smooch! take care of yourself! ♡♡♡

Hi!!! Thank you so much, this response means a lot. I’m so glad that people are responding so positively.

As far as Taylor- ugh yes it was so good. I literally had to talk myself down from spending money I don’t have to go to Florida and see her again. Why are tickets so damn expensive??? The bridge of Smallest Man Whi Ever Lived fucking WRECKED me, omg.

Anyways…

Sending you love as well! I hope you have a great day!