#just feeling sappy again this morning I guess

[kate-m-art]

Y'know, think it probably says something about me that the top song on my YouTube Recap this year is one I fell in love with because it makes me think of Autumn and Maeve TvT

Just like first half is so Maeve to me, it's how they met TvT She saw him passing through town at midnight and brought him in where it was warm, gave him food ♡ she's so good at really listening and then talking him down when he needs it, putting things into perspective when he's spiraling

And then second half is Autumn, he doesn't see himself as a good person, but how much he cares about her makes him want to try. She's probably the first person he really intentionally went out of his way to help and tried to make happy. She doesn't have a lot of people that will *really* listen to her the same way she does for everyone else but Autumn will.

They're just sweethearts and I love them TvT so much selfless love in both of them for the other

[emotionoitme]

trouble

trouble - coldplay

part 3 of don’t call my name

warnings: angst, hurt + arguing but it’s steamy, drinking and clubbing, some violence (she gets grabbed and threatened but nothing happens), guard dog carmy bark bark, carmy throws hands & brief mention of blood. comfort sex, sappy and sweet but hot, it’s unprotected what else did you expect from me, dirty talk, some drama with claire i’m sorry 

wc: 9.0k

a/n: so…i told everyone this was going to be 3 parts when it actually needs 4. i fear i am just too much of a yapper. i love these two and think i needed to do the story justice. so stay tuned for ch4. hehehehe. hope u enjoy!!! (it is going to get angsty) 

playlist

carmen berzatto is a shitty communicator. 

this we know to be a fact. 

it’s just, sometimes when there are a thousand thoughts swarming around his head, it’s easier to not say anything at all. that makes sense, right? 

the girl wakes up the next morning to find herself alone. the plush king sized bed almost mocks her with emptiness.

she knows that carmy is a hard worker. a michelin star kitchen doesn’t just run itself. still, it might be nice to get a note, or text, or anything that would reassure her last night wasn’t just some fluke to to him. 

the silence of the apartment is almost deafening. she trudges down the stairs and walks to the kitchen, pouring herself what was left in the coffee pot from carmy’s early morning. 

she feels lethargic, sore, and a little stung from waking up alone. no text or anything, she thinks. 

but there was still time. maybe he was just really busy today. she pushes away the negative thoughts and slaps both of her cheeks lightly, trying to wake herself up. it would be a good day. he would text her or call her when he got a break. and they would talk about it. she puts a smile on her face at the delusion and hops back up the stairs to get dressed for work. 

the girl tries to busy herself when she gets there, picking up extra slack from coworkers and bustling around to finish projects. trying to not check her phone. 

she goes on lunch break with no text from him. 

gets off work at 5 with no text from him. 

throws his sheets in the wash and remakes his bed with no text from him. 

eats dinner with no text from him. 

watches a movie at 9:30 with, you guessed it. 

she throws her phone back onto the bed angrily, the false wall of positivity built in her mind beginning to crumble. she’s tired and annoyed, so she shuts off the movie and buries herself in bed, trying to push thoughts of him out of mind so she could sleep. 

she tells herself that they can talk tomorrow. but then, tomorrow comes and it’s the same nothing, almost like she didn’t even have a roommate. 

three silent days go by until the girl decides she’s had enough, and plans to wait up for him and have a talk. maybe he just wasn’t a texting type of guy, she tries to comfort herself. 

she grabs her book and a throw blanket and camps out on the couch, waiting for him to get home. 

it’s close to midnight before she hears keys jingling and the lock turning. her heart drops inexplicably but she remains nonchalant and continues reading her book until she hears him take a few steps inside. 

she turns her head, watching him talk on the phone as he slides his shoes off. he doesn’t notice her in the dim light of the living room, and his brows are furrowed, hand running through his messy curls. 

“yeah. yeah, i’m- i know….sorry again,” a pause, “okay. i’ll see you saturday. bye, claire.” 

her eyebrows shoot up at the name, the sinking feeling with in her stomach increasing tenfold. this motherfucker. 

carmen makes it halfway into the living room before he notices her on the couch, slightly startling at her presence, mumbling a “shit”

her face feels hot, but not in the good way she had grown accustomed to the past few weeks. 

“hey,” he greets softly, eyes looking tired, shoulders slumped. 

she just glares at him and goes back to reading her book. 

he says her name. she ignores him.

the man lets out a small scoff, stepping closer to the couch, hand on his hip. 

“what, you, uh, ignoring me?” 

she glances up at him and there’s a small smirk on his face, like he thinks it’s joke or something. 

she opens her mouth to say something mean, but stops herself. takes a deep breath. recenters. 

she slams her book shut and turns to face him. 

“i’m going to bed.” 

the man’s small smirk drops, watching as she shoots up from the couch and starts heading towards the stairs. he grabs her wrist to stop her. 

“hey,” he says, firmer this time. 

she whips around and pulls her arm back. 

“what?” she snaps. 

his brows furrow at her tone of voice. he pauses for a second, eyes raking down her face, taking in her expression. 

“why are you acting like that?” he asks. 

the question does nothing but make her feel angrier. 

“because you’re being fucking confusing,” the girl exclaims, her throat growing tight.

“how am i confusing?” carmen replies with a surge of annoyance, “you woke me up the other night with…” his eyes dart down her frame, “half your fuckin’ clothes on.” he tries to sound angry, but his voice betrays him a bit. truthfully, it was like his prayers had come true when he opened his eyes to find her straddling him in underwear and a tiny little top that barely kept her chest contained. 

“yeah cause i thought you were into me,” she frustratedly sighs, “but you’re just…using me to get over claire.” 

the allegation wasn’t rooted in fact. but that’s how the girl felt, and she confuses the two in the moment. 

“don’t say that.” he snaps, “that’s not fuckin’ true in the slightest.” carmen had been done with claire for months at this point. if anything, he had been trying to use claire to get over his roommate.

“it’s been three days since we-… and you haven’t said anything,” she sighs, rubbing her forehead, feeling a headache come on. 

he knows his, and feels guiltier than she could even imagine. but he also knows she’s leaving in a few short weeks, and doesn’t want to fall any deeper than he already has for her. 

“i got busy at work.” he defends. it’s a shitty excuse, but as usual, it’s the first to come to mind. 

her eyes brows crease further. 

“you have a phone.” she chides.

“i just…i didn’t think about it,” he lies, “i’m sorry.”

she scoffs and shakes her head. 

“god, you’re so-,” another sigh, “you know, whatever, carm.” she turns from him and begins to walk up the stairs. 

he hates how his eyes glance down to her ass, peaking out from beneath a pair of short shorts. 

god he’s a fucking loser, he tells himself. 

carmy calls her name again. she ignores him. 

-

the girl slams her bedroom door behind her and throws herself onto her bed. she tries to fight the hot, angry tears that stream down her face, telling herself it doesn’t really bother her. telling herself that he’s just another stupid guy, and she can find better. this does nothing to ease the burning feeling in her chest, though, a pair of soft blue eyes flashing in her mind. thinking of the way he was rough with her while still being gentle, kissing her face and calling her sweet names. thinking of how he held her and wiped her tears and assured her that things would work out. 

fucking asshole! 

she grabs her duvet and pulls it over her head, wrapping herself tightly and burrowing into the pillow. she tells herself that she won’t make the mistake of giving into him again. wouldn’t ever grace him with her lips or fingers or sweet moans again. 

she tells herself that she doesn’t need him. she could easily find someone else that would satisfy that same feral craving she had for carmen. 

in fact, tomorrow would be friday, and she hadn’t gone out in a long time. she decides on calling up a friend and making a friday night plan to go out. drink, dance, and prove to herself that there’s better for her out there than carmy. 

the girl aggressively rubs her face of tears and shoots up out of bed, grabbing her phone to send the invitation to a girlfriend. her phone pings with a quick response, and the girl confirms her plan for the following night, already envisioning what to wear. the thought of seeing carmy tomorrow night before she goes out makes her stomach churn. the thought of seeing him at all makes it churn, actually. 

she tells herself that she only has to stick it out for another month or so. then she would go back to california and things would be normal. no more stupid boys. no more heated touches. no more whimpers being greedily devoured by hungry kisses. 

she tells herself that’s what she wants. 

it doesn’t feel genuine in the slightest. 

the following morning she rummages through her closet and picks out a couple of skimpy options. she studies herself in the mirror, holding up the various items up in front of her nude body, wondering what carmy would think of the outfits. she quickly tries to push the thought out of mind. she doesn’t care what he thinks, she reminds herself. her eyes fixate on the finger-shaped bruises scattered about her hips. she thinks of how they got there. 

her day at work seems to go impossibly slow. the girl finds herself thinking of carmen constantly, caught between hoping there would be a text from him when she would check her phone and hoping she would never hear from him again. 

her mind frequently flashes to the way he handled her a few nights ago. how he kissed her obsessively. how he held her up once her legs had given out. how he relentlessly plowed into her and called her a pretty girl and told her she was made for him. 

the thought simultaneously makes her horny and angry, something that she had never experienced so vividly until now. she wanted to slap his face, but at the same time she wanted to kiss him and grind against him and beg for him again. 

it’s entirely confusing. 

by the time 10 o clock rolls around, she begins to get ready, meticulously styling her hair and applying her makeup. she opts for a sultry, smokey look, accentuating her eyes with dark shadow and liner, glossing her pouty lips with a clear lacquer. the girl tries to hurry the routine, anxious to make it out the door before carmen gets back. 

she strips her clothes off and slips into her club apparel, then decorates her look with rings, bracelets, earrings, and a necklace. as she slides her thigh high boots on, she hears the front door open, then slam closed.

“fuck,” she harshly exhales. looks like she would have to see him after all. 

carmy racks his keys onto the hook and steps out of his shoes, taking a deep breath at the relief of being home. it’s not until he notices the light coming from upstairs that the relief is replaced with a sense of anxiety. 

he knows he needs to fix things between him and his roommate, if he could even refer to her as just that anymore. he had felt like a jackass all week, but apologies were never really his strong suit. he didn’t even know where to start. 

the man empties his pockets out onto the credenza, then begins to make his way into the living room. he stops in his tracks when he hears the click of heels descending the stairs. 

as he turns his head and catches sight of her, he fights to stifle a groan. 

she comes down clad in a tight top and mini skirt, length of her legs emphasized by black thigh high boots. his eyes rake down her body, admiring the curve of her figure and the appealing fit of the clothes. he wishes that she would dress like that all the time, but he doesn’t tell her that, instead just opting for a casual, albeit slightly strained “hey.”

she looks at him, but doesn’t reply, instead sauntering over to their bar cart and pouring herself a shot. he realizes the top is backless, and clenches his jaw a bit, trying to recenter with a deep breath. 

“you, uh…you look nice,” he clears his throat. 

she throws back the shot and shivers. 

“thanks,” her response comes dryly, walking over to grab her purse, “i’ll be back in a few hours.”

carmen feels his brain stutter, processing what she said, his eyebrows furrowing. 

“wait you, uh, you’re going out dressed like that?” he can’t help but feel a bit protective, even if she is pissed off at him. the girl scoffs. 

“i can’t really go to the club in sweatpants, carm.” 

he rubs a hand over his face, trying to keep calm. 

“you could, uh….at least put a fuckin’ jacket on or something though?” he tries to suggest kindly. his tone betrays him. 

“yeah?” she turns towards him, “why the fuck do you care?” bite in her tone. 

his eyes fall over the multiple hickeys that litter her neck, then flicker over her face, realizing how striking her features look accentuated by dark makeup. she looks angry. a little hurt. he wants to say something soothing. 

“cause i-fuck,” hand threading through his hair messily, “because i know how guys think.” 

nice. real soothing. 

“yeah? n’what do they think?” she challenges. 

that anyone would want you. that you look fucking hot wearing those tight little clothes.

carmy opts to not respond so directly, and walks closer to her. 

“i just don’t want you to get… hurt.” his tone is firm, jaw set tightly. she lets out a sardonic laugh at this. at the fact that he’s her biggest source of hurt at the moment.

“what, you think it’s funny?” he barks, “you could get fuckin’…picked up or drugged or something.” 

she rolls her eyes. 

“that’s not gonna happen. i’m going with a friend.” she snatches her purse off the credenza, fumbling through it to make sure she has her id. he takes a few steps closer. until he can smell her sweet perfume. 

“well, let me drive you guys then.” 

she shakes her head. 

“no. we’re getting a cab.” zipping up her purse and hanging it over her shoulder. 

“fuck, then call me when you get there. and when you’re leaving.” he snaps a bit, becoming a bit fed up with her attitude. 

“not gonna fuckin’ call you, carmy,” her face scrunches up in anger, “i’ll probably end up going home with someone, anyways,” she fibs, locking eyes with him, unintentionally leaning in a bit. 

“you what?” he angers, moving even closer to her, their faces mere inches apart. 

she can feel the shot she took now, eyes darting down to his lips. fuck his deodorant. the smell of it makes her want to give in.

“‘mgonna find someone tonight,” her tone lower now, lids low, “‘n they’re gonna fuck me better than you ever will.” 

he scoffs, blood boiling at her words, shaking his head, eyebrow twitching. 

“yeah, uh, that’s not gonna fuckin’ happen.” his hand comes to wrap around her hip, squeezing. his face comes closer, lips nearly ghosting hers.

“yeah?” she challenges, actively fighting to keep from diving in, eyes locked on his lips.

“yeah,” tone firm, “tell your friend you’re staying in tonight.” 

she doesn’t know why she feels so turned on. still pissed off, yes, but mostly aroused. 

she rolls her eyes and lets out a laugh to hide this, but he can tell. he can always tell by the slight flutter of her eyelids and the way she’ll part her lips. he knows that she likes when he talks to her like that. 

the girl channels all of her strength and steps away from him, opening the front door. 

“see you tomorrow,” she chimes, walking out. he calls her name as she walks away, but she ignores him. he tells himself he’s too proud to chase after her, but really he wants to do nothing more. 

as she makes her way down the hall, his eyes rake down her exposed back, settling on her shapely ass. 

this girl was going to drive him fucking crazy. 

-

carmy berzatto (2hrs): you make it there? 

missed call from carmy berzatto (1hr)

carmy berzatto (30min): call me if you need a ride home. 

the girl shuts off her phone, shoving it back in her purse and strutting to the bar counter. sure, now he cared enough to send a text. 

jealous motherfucker. 

it had been a girls night out until her friend went home with an ex boyfriend, leaving her all alone at the club. she leans over the counter, pushing her hair over her shoulder. her feet are sore from the boots she had picked out, coupled with an hour or so of nonstop dancing. 

the girl had planned to leave as soon as her friend did, but made the mistake of passing through the main room where they were playing 2000s music. she couldn’t just not dance to 2000s. 

the bartender works quickly to accommodate the numerous orders. she feels the drink she had been sipping on affecting her, comfortably bathing in the multicolored lights of the club. it was packed with people, and she had been noticing eyes on her all night. 

the girl feels a hand on her lower back, and she turns to meet the eyes of a tall man.

“hi,” he says.

“hey,” she softly replies.

he was admittedly handsome, and his muscular stature didn’t hurt to look at either. 

“can i buy you a drink?” the man asks. 

the girl softly smiles and nods. he raises his hand to flag the bartender. she was planning on getting a water, but since she wasn’t paying for it…

the stranger makes small talk with her, the two having to practically yell into each other’s ear to hear over the bass of the music. jobs, what part of town they live, compliments. not that she really cares about any of it, though she tries to. 

as he leans in to ask if she’ll dance with him, he places his hand on her waist. she tries to ignore how it doesn’t feel right. 

he’s cute, she tells herself, and i needs to stop thinking about carmy. 

the girl takes a long sip of her drink and nods softly, taking his hand and leading him to the dance floor. they squeeze through the crowd of bodies, and she turns to face him, hand on his chest. he places a hand on her lower back, and they begin to move to the beat. she takes another long sip of her drink, closing her eyes, coming closer to the man, swaying her hips. his deodorant doesn’t smell as good as carmen’s does. doesn’t comfort her like his does. 

she takes another sip, and she circles around, moving her hips, facing away from the man. the music resonates through the whole building, lights flash and change color, making her movements feel dreamlike. he places his hands on her hips. 

she wishes that she liked how it felt. 

the man presses his hips into her backside. she imagines it’s carmen, and the thought makes her bite down onto her lip. her head falls back against his chest. she thinks of her roommate’s strong arms. his tattoos. the way his face scrunched up when he fully engulfed himself in her. the girl lets out a breath. her skin feels hot and sticky in the muggy club air. she takes another long sip of alcohol, feeling lips on her neck. they feel strange and unfamiliar. it doesn’t set off that tingling sensation in her lower stomach. she groans out of frustration. 

“mmm you like that don’t you, pretty girl?” the man slurs into her ear. 

the name makes her heart drop, and all of the sudden she feels like she needs to throw up. she shoves the stranger’s hands away and stumbles forward, pushing her way out of the crowd. the floor feels like it’s tilting on an axis as she cringes at the feeling of other sweaty bodies touching her. she gets shoved into by a big group and loses her drink. 

it’s suddenly hard to breathe. the girl feels her throat tighten, her chest burning, wiping hot tears away. she fights and pushes and weaves through the crowd until she finally breaks free, making a beeline for the glowing red exit sign. the girl shoves the door open, almost tripping over the frame, and stumbles out into the cold night. 

the frigid air helps alleviate some of her nausea, skin rising in goosebumps. she trudges along the brick wall and leans her back against it, focusing on taking deep breaths. her hands run through her messy hair, pushing it out of her face, closing her eyes, trying to stop the steady flow of tears. 

this night was supposed to be fun, but all she wanted to do was go home and sleep this booze off. all she wanted was carmen. 

her hands fumble through her purse, grabbing her phone. she drops it, muttering a “shit,” and crouches down to pick it up. she squints her eyes at the light of the display, struggling to navigate to the uber app. she enters her address, cursing internally when she sees the friday night surge prices. instead, she exits uber and finds her contacts, hovering over the number of a cab company. her eyes glance towards carmen's contact, right below. 

she doesn’t want to call him. he was being an asshole, and she hates how easily he was able to get under her skin. so she dials the contact for the cab, listening to the line ring. and ring. and ring. almost infinitely, then a automated voice of “your call cannot be completed.” 

“fuck,” she curses, terminating the call. 

her eyes fixate on his name, pausing and contemplating. 

she rolls her eyes and dials it. the line rings twice and gets picked up with a raspy greeting and a “y’okay?” 

she stays silent for a second, not sure what to say. he says her name. 

“did you know that you are-” she hiccups, “s-so mean?” it’s the only thing that comes to mind. 

“are you drunk?” he asks.

“no. m’not” she argues, wiping a stray tear. 

“you sound drunk,” he retorts, “where are you? i’m coming to get you.” 

“you’re so fucking…rude. ‘nyou think you can just do whatever you want because you’re so-” hiccup, “hot… and big…you irritate me, carm,” she slurs into the line. she opens her mouth to say more, but he cuts her off by saying her name sternly. 

“you at prysm? tunnel?” 

“yeah. that one.” she hiccups again. 

“tunnel? okay, stay right there. i’m getting in my car now.” 

“ok but i’m still mad at you,” she murmurs, leaning against the cool brick. he scoffs, and starts saying something about her bad attitude, but she cuts him off by hanging up, harshly exhaling and closing her eyes tightly. the tears continue falling, so she just tries to focus on her breathing. 

a cool breeze causes her to stiffen, wrapping her arms around herself, shivering. it’s uncomfortable, but grounding. her head stops spinning so much as she begins to breathe deeply. the tears come to a steady stop, but the aching in her chest doesn’t. she wishes carmen would hold her and kiss her head. 

around fifteen minutes pass before she hears the back door of the club open. the girl keeps her eyes shut, hoping whoever it was wouldn’t bother her. though it seems she’s not so lucky tonight, unfortunately. 

“hey, you,” a deep voice says. she snaps her eyes open to find the same tall man she was dancing with earlier standing in front of her. 

she just stares at him silently, crossing her arms in front of her to help provide some modesty. 

“listen, i think we get along well. and you’re really hot,” he explains drunkenly, “why don’t i help you get home?” 

she feels icked out, trying to refrain from rolling her eyes.

“m’not interested, sorry. i have someone coming to pick me up.” 

the man scoffs. 

“you were plenty interested earlier when i bought you a drink,” taking a step closer to her, “c’mon. don’t be a tease.” he has a smirk on his face. she feels her heart begin to pound against her chest. 

carmy was right, it was a mistake to come out. she tries to take a step away from him, blocked by the hard brick wall. 

“seriously, i’m not interested,” she tries to sound assertive, “my boyfriend will be here any second so just leave me alone.” she hopes he can’t read through her lie. 

“your boyfriend?” he asks, smirk turning into a grin, “you’re a naughty girl, aren’t you? someone should fucking straighten you out.”

her heart drops to her stomach, and she feels sick all over again. she steps forward to shove past him, and he grabs her waist, slamming her back into the wall. 

“don’t fucking touch me!” she yells, grabbing his wrists and digging her nails in. he doesn’t let go. tears begin to stream down her face, heart hammering against her ribcage. she sees headlights from down the street and prays that it’s carmen, continuing to struggle against the man. 

the car speeds up to the curb and jerks to a stop, door flying open. she shuts her eyes tightly and digs her nails in hard enough to draw blood, giving a final attempt at trying to get his hands off of her. 

the girl is suddenly released as the man is jerked backwards by his shoulder. her eyes snap open and graciously land on the person she’s been wanting to see the most. 

everything happens so fast—watching in a haze as carmen practically decks the guy in the face, sending the stranger stumbling back, gripping a bloody nose. 

“you muverfuckr!” he slurs, words muffled by a dripping hand, lunging forward again. carmy shuffles back, then throws another jab square in the face. the man falls backwards onto the ground, sitting on the concrete, looking entirely disoriented. the girl gasps, feeling partially sobered by the scene. 

she watches as the stranger’s blood drips onto the pavement, then darts her gaze over to carmen. his eyes look crazed, jaw tightly locked. he begins to stalk towards the man, clenching his fists that were spotted with red. 

the girl reaches out and grabs his arm. he turns to look at her and his features immediately soften, taking in her tear-soaked cheeks and swollen lips. without thinking, he grabs her arm and pulls her into a tight embrace, arms wrapping around her in a protective bear hug. she clings to his shirt, and cries. he kisses the top of her head. 

he smells so good. smells so safe. 

“s’okay. i got you,” he soothes, “you’re okay.” the man says this as a reassurance to himself as well, rubbing her back, feeling his throat tighten and eyes water a bit. 

the stranger lay flat on his back now, clutching his bleeding nose, mumbling incoherently. 

carmen pulls back from the embrace, but keeps an arm wrapped tightly around her, ushering her to the car. she stumbles a bit, holding onto him securely. she wishes the tears would stop, but they don’t. she feels so scared. so relieved. so fucking grateful. 

he gets her into the car, shutting the door and walking around to the driver’s side. she doesn’t want to look at him when he gets in, so she hides her face in her hand, elbow leaning on the arm rest. he doesn’t say anything for the duration of the drive home either. 

she feels embarrassed, tired, and still a little mad at carmy. the whole reason she had wanted to go out and meet guys in the first place was because of his stupid situationship with claire. it was like it made her go into defense mode. 

they had been driving for about 5 minutes, before she feels a dull throbbing in her head, stomach growling, alcohol in her system making her crave greasy nasty salty food. 

she raises her head from her hand, looking at carmen. his eyebrows were knit together tightly, jaw clenched. she leans her head against the headrest as she stares at him lovingly. she loves how protective he gets over her. how strong he is. how blindingly handsome. 

but she’s still mad, of course. 

he catches her gazing at him in his periphery. he looks over, features softening as he catches her eyes momentarily.

“what’s up?” he asks, voice low.

she just looks at him. her lip pouts a bit. 

“you hungry?” comes his question, perfectly timed. 

she allows a soft smile to grace her lips at the accuracy of his guess. 

“mmhm,” she nods, “a burger sounds really good right now. and french fries.” 

he lets out a quiet chuckle, nodding his head, glancing at her again. 

“let’s get you a burger and french fries, then.” 

he turns his signal on and moves to make a quick left, pulling into a drive-thru after a few minutes.

they sit in line waiting for the order to be cooked. she glances over at his face. she wants to kiss him, a little. 

“d’yknow what the ultimate hangover food is?” she asks softly. 

he turns to face her, eyebrows raised in question, a look of amusement on his face. 

“an all american breakfast,” she murmurs with a smile.

“yeah?” he asks, “like…pancakes?”

she nods, biting her lip with a smile. he lets out a soft laugh at this.

“and bacon and eggs. and hash browns. fuck,” her eyes are closed, like she’s imagining it in front of her. this makes the man laugh a bit harder, hand coming to smooth over his face. 

“good answer,” he tells her once he stops smiling as much. 

“what’s yours?” she asks, gazing at him a bit longingly. 

“my what?” 

“your hangover cure food.”

“uh, probably…saltines?”. 

the girl lets out a laugh. 

“the alcohol upsets my stomach,” he admits. 

she laughs harder, burying her face in her hands. 

“you are so cute,” she amuses. 

he fights the heat that rushes to his face when she says this, and they pull forward to the pick up window. 

the girl takes her first bite into the greasy burger that carmen insists on paying for, and it makes her feel more human than she has all night. 

-

carmy parks the car in his assigned lot, then gets out to assist his roommate out of the car. the food helped her feel much more grounded, but she still has to cling onto his arm to be able to walk straight through the building. 

neither of them say anything. this lasts until they get back to their unit, and carmy locks the door behind them. he watches as the girl stumbles out of her shoes and crashes onto the couch. she throws an arm over her eyes and tries to push away the nausea that comes with laying down. 

“thank you,” she murmurs into her arm after a moment.

“mhm,” he responds, “told you to call me when you needed a ride, though,” shrugging off his jacket.

“i did,” she argues.

“no, you called me… way after you needed one. and you stood outside waiting for me,” his tone grows harsher.

if she wasn’t so nauseous, she’d roll her eyes. 

“i was trying to get away from all the guys that were trying to take me home,” she retorts. she means it to be teasing, but it’s clear he doesn’t take it that way by the peak she steals through her arms. 

“y’know, you-,” he scoffs, “i’m glad you think it’s fuckin’ funny because i-fuck…i was worried about you” he throws his keys onto the table, feeling angry, feeling scared. 

she throws her other arm over her face. her cheeks are hot with embarrassment. her throat suddenly feels tight at his words, like she’s going to cry again. she doesn’t say anything out of fear of her voice breaking. 

carmy chides her name, stalking over to the couch. he stands over her, expectantly waiting for a response, jaw clenching with annoyance. he nudges her arm. she moves it, revealing her tired bloodshot eyes. 

“can we not do this tonight?” she begs hoarsely, “m’so drunk.” 

“you fucking scared me,” he exclaims, grabbing his hair, “what would’ve happened if i didn’t get there in time, huh?” 

“i know,” she sobs, tears now freely flowing, hiding her face in her arms again. 

his heart breaks a bit, watching her cry like that. but he feels so angry that she put herself at risk like that. 

“you-” he stops. takes a deep breath to recenter. “you’re right. let’s not do this tonight.” 

she peaks at him through her arms, feeling completely pathetic. she watches him turn on the small lamp by the couch. he drapes a throw blanket over her before turning to walk upstairs. 

tears continue inexplicably trailing down her cheeks, as her deep breathing begins to lul her into sleep. 

an hour passes. 

she shifts to try and get comfy to no avail. 

30 more minutes. 

everything was so uncomfortable. 

she sits up quickly and shoots off the couch, beelining for the stairs, desperate to get the crunchy makeup and scratchy clothes off. 

she falls up the stairs in her sleepy scramble, knocking against the wall loudly. slowly stands up, holds onto the rail, and exhales before continuing to ascend much more carefully. 

as she walks down the hallway, she unashamedly begins to strip out of her clothing, leaving a trail that leads to the bathroom, telling herself she would take care of it later. she feels sick and lethargic, needing a shower immediately. 

the girl leaves the bathroom light off as she draws a cold shower and steps in right away, drenching herself in the frigid water. she tenses, letting out a sharp exhale, feeling almost immediately soothed. 

it’s as if the water washes away everything bad from the night. she meditatively goes through her routine, cleaning herself. cleaning away everything that happened tonight. cleaning away the man who touched her on the dancefloor, outside of the club. 

the shame and embarrassment that begins to seep in as the alcohol wears off doesn’t wash away as easily. she needs to apologize, she knows that.

the girl dries herself off and wraps her hair in a towel as she walks back to her room, feeling more of a pep in her step following the refreshing shower. she bends down to pick up the strung out clothing she left behind, feeling like she was going crazy because her underwear was nowhere to be found. it would just have to wait until tomorrow, she supposes. 

she’s moisturized and laying in bed, trying to fall asleep. tossing and turning. taking a deep breath. softening her face, muscles. thinking of nice things.

drifting off. mind flashing back to the man grabbing her and slamming her against the brick wall. thinking of what would’ve happened had carmy not come to her rescue. 

her eyes snap open. she sharply inhales and sits up, hanging her legs over the side of the bed. it was going to be impossible to get sleep like this, heart beating way too fast to try and relax. 

she just wants to feel safe. 

without a second thought, she stands and begins walking to carmy’s room. 

she knows he’s pissed off at her. knows he’ll probably tell her to get out. even so, she’s so desperate to get some sleep. so desperate to ease the anxiety that had been festering inside of her all night. 

his door is closed, and she hesitates for a moment before twisting the knob and slipping inside. 

it’s dark—the curtains drawn when they usually aren’t. he lay shirtless on his side, facing away from the door, clutching a pillow in his arms. 

the girl peels back his sheets and slowly slips into bed, resting her head on the soft pillow. she stays there for a moment before scooting closer and laying her face against his back. he’s so warm, and his skin smells safe. her eyes fall shut. she feels him shift. 

carmen wakes up unexpectedly to the feeling of warmth behind him. he knows it’s her without having to look. when she had noisily stumbled upstairs and into the shower, he went to go check on her—almost knocked on the bathroom door, but refrained once he heard soft cries from within. 

he feels her face nuzzle into his back, and he reaches his arm back behind him, wanting to feel where she lay. he touches her hip.

“hi,” she greets softly. 

“hey,” he returns, voice raspy, “y’can’t sleep?” 

she scoots closer to him, hand splaying over his back. 

“just a little… freaked out still…” she whispers. her tone wobbles. 

he shifts at this, and turns around to face her silently. in the low light she can make out the worried furrow of his brows.

she feels guilty for being the subject of his worry. 

“i’m sorry,” the girl confesses, biting back tears. 

carmen’s brows crease further at her apology, immediately wrapping an arm around her and pulling her into his chest. she tucks her face into his neck, shutting her eyes tightly, smelling his skin. 

“y’got nothing to be sorry for,” he plants a kiss atop her head, “wasn’t your fault.” 

“it was my fault,” her voice breaks, “should’ve listened to you,” her arms come around his neck, and she presses her body flush with his. 

“it wasn’t,” he asserts, “that guy was a fuckin’ creep.” his tone is hushed. his arms wrap around her as if he’s scared of losing her. 

“are you still mad at me?” she asks. her breath tickles his neck. 

“i wasn’t mad,” he admits, “just scared.” 

“me too,” matching his hushed tone. “thank you carm,” she whispers, pressing a kiss below his ear, “feel so safe with you.” she shuffles closer, pelvis pressing against his. 

“you are,” he buries his nose in her hair, “always.” hiking her leg over his hip to bring her closer. 

the girl kisses his neck again. and again. pulls him in closer. his smell is completely addicting, and with the angle of her leg she can feel his erection growing against her core. she hopes he can’t feel the wetness that begins to form beneath her shorts. 

his big palm spreads over her ass and squeezes, desperate to hold every inch of her. 

the girl deeply exhales, bothered by how easily he’s able to rouse her. 

the man harshly exhales at the repeated feeling of her bites and licks and kisses, holding onto her with an urgent desperation. trying to wrap around her as if he were keeping her from the world. 

the room becomes hot, and the two shuffle the duvet off. 

carmen calls her name, trying to break her attention. he wants to apologize. wants to confess his shortcomings. wants to look in her big eyes and tell her he’s not enough and never will be. but she ignores his beckon and continues enthusiastically biting and sucking and kissing, hand pressing against his chest. 

he forces his eyes to stay open, weight of his bottled apology heavy on his tongue. 

“hey,” he tries again, voice strained from the pleasure.

“can you put it in?” she breathes into his neck.

“fuck,” he groans, surprised by her forward request, feeling himself pulse against her wetness. 

“please,” she whines, hiking her leg further up onto his hip, trailing her kisses along his jaw, up to his cheek.

he squeezes her ass again, fingers slipping under the fabric of her tiny shorts. her skin was so soft. so hot with arousal. 

“let me play with you,” he strains, “get you ready f’me.”

the girl makes a sound of protest, kissing his face more, hand coming to his neck. 

“m’ready,” she whispers earnestly “wanna feel you so bad,” another kiss, “please, carm.”

he lets out a strained breath and removes his hand from her ass, shoving his boxers down just enough to free his erection. she moves her thigh higher up his hip, and carmen slips his fingers beneath the fabric covering her core, hastily pulling it to the side.

“yeah,” she exhales desperately, edge of her lips touching his, trying to watch him press his cock into her opening. 

carmen pushes forward, sinking into her tightness. he lets out a groan at the way her wet heat engulfs him. the girl releases a sound of appreciation, her nails indenting the skin of his shoulder. 

he takes a deep breath and begins slowly rocking his hips, turning his face to catch her lips in a hungry kiss. he greedily swallows her sweet noises, catching the edge of her shirt and bunching it up over her chest, exposing her breasts.

“please,” she breaks the kiss to plead, not really even knowing what she was asking for. 

“i know, baby” he groans in between kisses, “gonna take care of you.” rolling his hips, hiking her leg further up his hip to bury himself to the hilt. 

she wants to cry at how good it feels, eyes scrunched shut and mouth falling open in pleasure, releasing her first breathy moan. 

carmy swears he could cum at the sound of it, hand grabbing her ass again, pulling her impossibly closer. his forehead comes to hers and he begins slowly thrusting into her, completely drunk off of her. her smell, her wetness, her whimpers. 

“y’so fuckin’ cute,” he growls, “can’t get enough of you.” his admission sends a fluttering sensation throughout her chest, arching further into his touch, beginning to hungrily rock her hips to try and match his thrusts. 

the man grabs her hip, holding her still. 

“slow down,” he commands softly, catching her lips in a deep kiss, continuing to gently thrust into her. 

she complies, savoring the sweet, lazy rocking motion as he holds her tightly. it feels far more intimate than what she’s ever experienced with him, even though the two weren’t even fully naked. it was needy and frenetic, yet slow and gentle. 

carmen buries himself deeper, beginning to thrust up into her at an angle. he kisses her with frenzy, tongue swirling around hers, swallowing each and every noise she makes. the room grows incredibly hot, their skin sticky, each trying to apologize to the other using their bodies. 

carmy snaps his hips forward, and the girl releases from his lips with a loud cry. her nails dig into his shoulder. it’s so good she feels like crying again. 

“y’such a pretty fuckin’ girl,” he growls, “love how you feel, y’know that?” 

her droopy eyes meet his. she loves the way it sounds from his mouth. loves everything he does. 

“i’m all yours carm,” she gasps, savoring the deep, satiating feeling of his thick cock.

“yeah?” he asks breathily, “all mine?” grabbing her ass, pulling her in time with his thrusts. 

“y-yeah,” she cries, eyes tightly shut, “yours. i love-ah,” she’s interrupted by a punctuated thrust, losing her words, head falling back, breathing heavily. he feels so good.

“what d’you love?” he asks, leaning forward to kiss her exposed neck, “huh?” 

“love y-how you make me feel,” she cries. 

his chest flutters. he bites and kisses the skin of her neck. he wishes she would’ve said something different. 

“what else, hm?” a kiss, thrusts speeding up, “what else d’you love?” 

“love-fuck, right there,” she whimpers, “i love-ah,” trailing off as if she can’t even think straight. 

carmy smiles into her neck, giving her skin a final bruise before pulling away to catch her lips. 

“tell me,” he growls, grabbing the side of her thigh and continuing to upwards. 

her eyes fill with tears. she’s scared to say it. 

“i-,” an gasp, “i love you, carm.” she catches his gaze as she says it, and watches how his expression softens. how deeply he looks at her. the man dives into her lips again, kissing her with a ferocity she had yet to ever receive, groaning into her mouth. 

“fuckin’ made for me,” he growls in between kisses, “love everything about you,” pulling her leg further up, “perfect fuckin’ girl.”

he rolls over her and lifts her hips up, continuing to thrust into her. 

the girl wraps her legs around his back accommodatingly, dizzy from his words and the pleasure. she slips her fingers down to circle her swollen clit, feeling as if she teters right on the edge of climax, overcome with a white hot pleasure. 

“love you,” she cries, nails scratching down his back, “iloveyouiloveyouiloveyou m’gonna cum” she babbles. he smiles down at her, almost overwhelmed by a feral need to claim her. 

the man deliberates throwing caution to the wind and cumming inside of her. he knows she wouldn’t mind. he rationalizes the logistics of making her a mom in his frenetic state, drinking in the sight of her flushed cheeks, her wet eyes, her open mouth. he decides he’s in love with her. decides he wants her to be his forever. he watches her cum. watches her eyes roll back and her body start shaking. listens to the sweet harmonic moans that spill from her lips. 

“there y’go,” he coaxes, “such a good girl,” kissing her swollen lips, “fuckin’ in love with you,” heightening the pace of his thrusts, feeling himself approach the brink of orgasm. he seriously considers cumming inside of her, telling himself he would if she asked. he looks at the girl for confirmation, but she’s too far gone. he begrudgingly pulls out, shooting thick ropes of cum onto her stomach with a groan, missing her warmth as soon as he leaves. 

carmy rolls off of her, grabbing her face and pressing a firm kiss onto her cheek, collapsing on the bed for a moment. he feels spent.

the girl pants, trying to catch her breath. carmen nuzzles into her neck, wrapping around her tightly, kissing her tenderly. they bask in the afterglow, cherishing the presence of each other, an encompassing silence following the heavy words exchanged.

she’s the first to speak. well, complain. 

“there’s….cum all over my stomach.” she rasps. he smiles into her neck. 

“shower?”

quiet, for a moment. 

“i can’t move.” 

he kisses her bruised skin with a lazy smirk and sits up to grab her a washcloth. 

-

when the girl wakes up alone the next morning, her heart drops a bit, finding the bed next to her empty once again. she shuts her eyes immediately, hoping to be swept away by sleep so she could postpone the disappointment. 

that is, until she hears noises from the kitchen downstairs. and smells the bacon. 

the girl groggily pushes herself up out of bed, stalking down the hallway. she gets halfway to the stairs before realizing she’s completely naked, stopping in her tracks, turning to carmy’s open door, eyes falling on a t-shirt on the ground. she quickly grabs it and slips it over her head, then continues to curiously make her way downstairs. soft music comes from the speaker in the kitchen, and she slowly descends the stairs to find carmy deftly working over the stove. the whole house smells incredible. 

she slips behind him to get to the coffee pot, sliding her hand along his back as she passes. 

the man turns his head.

“hey,”  he watches as she retrieves a mug from the cabinet, graciously taking in the sight of her wearing his shirt. 

“good morning,” she smiles, “smells so good in here.” 

as she stretches to get the mug, the hem of the shirt lifts ever so slightly over the curve of her ass. he clears his throat.

“nice shirt,” carmy says, turning back to tend to the bacon. 

she lets out a soft giggle, pouring her coffee. 

“yeah?” taking a sip and leaning against the counter, “figured it would be better than coming down naked.”

his brain stutters for a moment. he turns to catch the smirk on her face. 

“i, uh…. i dunno about that,” he responds, small smile on his face. she shoves his arm playfully and he breaks into a grin. 

“no work this morning?” she asks, grateful for the unusual saturday morning presence. 

“no, i, uh…m’taking a personal day,” he replies, turning the heat of the stove off, “had some stuff i needed to get done.”

“good,” she replies with a nod, “you deserve a day off. i didn’t take you for much of a breakfast guy, though” she comments, tilting her head slightly. 

“i’m not, really,” he plates the bacon over a paper towel, “but i, uh…thought some all american might help with your hangover.” 

she feels a pang in her chest, eyes glancing over the assortment of pancakes, eggs, hash browns, and bacon. everything she had told him last night. 

“carm,” she whines, “that is so kind. you didn’t have to all of this for me.”

the food looked delectable, plated beautifully and piping hot. 

“i wanted to.” he begins to pick up the plates. 

she puts her coffee down and helps him set the table.

when she takes the first bite of her bacon and eggs she practically moans at the taste. 

“fuck,” she locks eyes with him. 

“yeah?” he watches her with amusement.

“yeah,” she breathes, nodding, “that’s…wow.” 

he can’t help but grin, hand coming to rub over his face. 

“good?” 

“yeah.” she nods, “really fucking good.”

he feels his skin heat at the way she says it, having no idea why watching her enjoy his food was so deeply satisfying (and maybe just a little arousing).

“try the pancakes,” he tells her, pushing the syrup closer to her. she nods enthusiastically, slathering the pancakes the maple syrup and taking a big bite. 

the girl groans, and her head falls into her hand, savoring the taste. she doesn’t think she’s ever had pancakes so good. 

“i could kiss you right now,” she looks back up at him. he lets out a breath of amusement and his cheeks warm with her praise.

“i’m glad you like it.” 

“no, seriously, i’m…going to kiss you.” she tells him, putting a hand on the table and leaning over it. she grabs his shirt and pulls him in, kissing him firmly. 

the man lets out a soft groan of surprise, enthusiastically reciprocating. she tastes like maple syrup. 

when the girl pulls back, he grabs her face and pulls her back in, wanting another sweet taste. it’s better than any pancakes he’s ever made. 

carmen loosens his grip on her face and she slowly pulls away, pressing a last kiss to his lips before sitting back down. she gives him a mischievous smile and continues eating her breakfast.  

-

“go sit down,” she tells him, taking the pan from him, “you already cooked, let me clean up.”

“we can do it together,” he compromises, “it’ll be faster.”

she shakes her head, making a pile of dishes in the sink and turning on the hot water.  

“no. go sit down and relax,” she demands, beginning to scrub. 

she feels arms wrap around her waist, feels lips on her neck. 

“so bossy,” he chides in between kisses, pressing his hips against her backside. she lets out a slow breath, leaning into his touch. her eyes flutter as she feels his hand creep under her shirt, splaying over her stomach. she’s not wearing anything besides his oversized shirt, and her skin suddenly feels hot from his touch. she arches into him slightly, and he bites her neck.  

it feels very domestic, fighting over who would clean up the kitchen. it feels domestic wearing his shirt and being pressed up against the counter by him, skin littered with his bruises, lips intertwined with his name. 

carmy begins to lift the borrowed shirt up, kisses trailing up to her ear, hand coming to squeeze her breast. 

the girl releases a soft noise, completely distracted by her task of washing dishes. her head falls back against his shoulder, and she leans into his touch. 

carmen thinks of telling her to strip the shirt off. thinks of hoisting her up onto the counter and eating her out until she cums. touching her until she cries.

he pushes the shirt up further. 

knock knock knock 

they both startle and look to the front door. carmen checks the time, and his heart drops a bit. 

he pulls away from the girl and runs a hand through his curls.

“who is it?” she asks him, observing his look of stress. 

“it’s, uh….fuck. just wait right here, okay?” his hands fall from his hips and he stalks to the closet by the front door, pulling out a scarf she doesn’t recognize. 

he opens the door halfway, and she hears a familiar woman’s voice greeting him. 

her face gets hot. her chest feels tight. 

“claire,” he greets quietly, thrusting the scarf forward, “here.”

“ugh, thank you, carmy. i’m so forgetful sometimes.” 

“no problem. i should, uh-”

“it smells good in there,” claire comments, peaking in. 

carmen steps back, eyes darting over to his roommate. she stands with her arms crossed, leaning against the counter, staring at him.

“i’m uh…cooking breakfast,” he turns back to claire, “so i should probably get back to that. i’ll see yo-”

“-i was thinking we could talk?” she cuts him off, “can i come in?”

“i don’t know if that’s…,” carmen hesitates. he glances to his roommate to find her walking behind him towards the stairs.

claire’s eyes follow the girl, taking in her attire. carmy watches her expression slightly falter. 

his roommate stalks up the stairs. was walking behind him in plain sight a little petty? maybe. but she’s sick of carmy never saying exactly what he means. she undoes the hair tie holding together her messy updo, walking to her room. 

she quickly grabs a change of clothes and rushes into to the bathroom to shower, feeling the overwhelming need to leave the apartment. 

the front door slams shut, and she hears his steps ascend the stairs.

[bleedingoptimism]

part one -> 📱💞🚙

part two -> 📱💞🚙

It only takes a week for Steve to show up at this door again. He knocks on the door late at night and he’s panting as if he’s run all the way there, “I had to see you” he says and it's overdramatic and kind of romantic, and Eddie barely resists the urge to jump in his arms and kiss him. Or check if there’s a filming crew and it’s raining because of how much this feels like a movie, but it’s a beautiful night outside.

“Come in,” he tells Steve, immediately turning and running around the living room, throwing away empty food containers and tidying up a bit. 

Steve watches him amused, but stands by the door, hands in his pockets, “So…” he says, “Came home today to find Chrissy, Vicky, and Robin all sitting at my dining table with their heads buried in a phone” 

Eddie looks up at that, because what the fuck? He looks at Steve confused and Steve nods, like he agrees with Eddie.

“The three of them lifted their head at the same time, it was kind of freaky honestly,” He keeps going and Eddie chuckles, curious as to where this is going, “They wanted me to see this,” Stevee finishes, lifting his phone up, the first episode of the van series playing, right at the part were Eddie first sees Steve and blushes while looking at him.

Back in reality Eddie is blushing again too, Steve saw the van series, he knows. Steve knows. “Steve…” he starts even though he has no idea what he’s gonna say.

But Steve doesn't let him try, doesn't let him think. He takes two long steps towards Eddie and kisses him, hard but short, pulls away holding Eddie’s face between his hands, and brings their forehead together,

“I didn't know,” he breathes.

Eddie shakes his head, “How could you not, I was so obvious I-”

Steve just kisses him again, once more short and sweet before pulling back, “You never said.”

Eddie wraps his hands over Steve's wrists, just holding them there, moving his thumb over Steve’s pulse slowly. He can feel how hard Steve’s heart is beating, can feel it match the rhythm of his own heart. And he wracks his brain, trying to remember if he ever did ask Steve out, or if he ever stated he liked him out loud.

He ends up laughing at the stupidity of it. Everyone knew Eddie loved Steve, except Steve, “I’m- I don't what to say. I'm sorry I-” he starts but Steve shuts him up with a kiss again, “It’s okay, I know now”

This time when they kiss, Eddie doesn't let Steve keep it short. He keeps him close, kissing him deeper, harder, longer, until he doesn't know where he begins and Steve stops.

The next day a new video gets uploaded. “Goooood morning!” Eddie says, even though it is clearly noon, from the passenger seat of his van, “Guess who is ready for their road trip!” he smiles and pulls the phone away from him, so both he and Steve are in frame. Steve is driving, eyes on the road but a huge smile on his face, Eddie’s hand is clearly visible on Steve’s thigh in the shot before Eddie moves the phone back to his face, “We’ll keep updating you guys, can’t tell you exactly where we are going cause we’d like a little privacy,” he says and wiggles his eyebrows, a soft gasp and a whispered and heated ‘Eddie!’ is heard in the background, “But we will upload videos from where we’ve been in a few weeks!” he films Steve once more, who looks at Eddie with a big sappy enamored smile on his face and then films the road for a few seconds, the world passing by the window. Finally, he twists the phone back to his face and says, “Oh! And don't worry about who’s going to drive… we’ll switch” and he winks and ends the video.

the end

☕🥐💕 coffee? by a roadhouse?

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

Snuggles

Steven Grant x GN!Reader • Rating: PG •Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | requestinfo• MK Bingo 2024 Masterlist• ko-fi •

Summary: Steven can't sleep.

A/N: I'm being all sappy.

Warnings: fluffy fluff fluff, self-indulgent as HECK, over use of italics, typos, not beta read, railroad sentences, please let me know if I've missed a warning!

Word Count: 610

Steven twisted around in the bed, the sheets wrapping around his left calf and ankle. He let out a humph of air and kicked himself free before he turned over again onto his other side and screwed his eyes shut. 

He gripped the pillow tight, his fingers paling under the force of it, his jaw clenched to the point of pain. 

Finally, the stabbing sensation in his molecules grew to a point where it became undeniable and at last his conscious mind seemed to register it. 

“Oh for fucks sake.” He sighed, opening his eyes and sitting up in bed. He rubbed his face with his hands, purposefully dragging the callus edges around his fingernails over his eyelids. 

It was useless. Pitiful even. 

He’d spent most of his life trying to avoid falling asleep, and now actually getting to sleep was practically impossible. 

It just wasn’t working. He was either too hot or too cold, the blankets too light and then too heavy. His arm went numb when he laid on his side, he felt like he was suffocating if he laid on his stomach and his shoulders ached if he tried to get comfortable on his back. 

Steven just couldn’t get to sleep without you next to him. 

He’d been so happy when you’d told him you were going out to spend some time with your friends to a late night cinema showing. He knew you didn’t get a lot of chances to see them all at once, as you had conflicting schedules. 

“Have a great time love!” He’d given you a kiss before you’d left, nuzzling your cheek.

You’d grinned, “Are you sure you don’t mind me coming back to yours after? It’ll be really late and I don’t want to wake you up-”

“Love,” he chuckled, reassuring you for what must have been the sixth time. “The flat’s closer and I sleep like a log, honestly. Besides, I’ll feel better waking up with you in the morning.”

He hadn’t realised that his body had decided to betray him and turn him into a liar. 

The sound of the key in the front door made him flinch, a brief flicker of panic overtaking before relief washed over him. 

You tiptoed in, illuminated by the glow of the hallway lights. 

Steven scrambled to the side and turned on the bedside lamp as you shut the door. 

It was your turn to jump. “Steven,” you smiled, “I thought you’d be asleep.”

He got up eagerly, putting on his slippers and padding over to you, “couldn’t sleep.” He gave you a soft shrug as he played with the sleeves of his pyjamas. “Missed you too much.” 

He hugged you gently, snuffling his face into your neck and breathing hard. 

“Awww,” you rubbed his back, quickly embracing him, “sweetheart.” You kissed his temple and Steven sighed happily. 

“Don’t reward me,” he mumbled into your skin. 

“What?” You laughed. 

Steven smiled as he moved back, just enough to look at you. “Don’t reward me, I’m being all pitiful and clingy.” He batted his eyes at you to make you laugh again. 

“You’re so silly.” You stroke his cheek and kiss him softly. “You’re not pitiful and clingy, you’re sweet and perfect.” 

He shook his head, pressing his face into your hand. 

You tut playfully, “Don’t deny it just because you want more praise.” 

He giggles and kisses your cheek. “Guess who’s been caught? Me.” 

You grin. 

After a quick trip to the bathroom and change you’re in bed with Steven, snuggled up tightly together in each other's embrace. Both of you safe and content. 

And asleep the second your heads hit the pillows. 

Thank you for reading!

@pleasurebuttonwrites @raven-rk @campingwiththecharmings @alexxavicry @whatthefishh

@romanarose @strangerhands @saturn-rings-writes @lonelyisamyw-0love @queerponcho

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@silvernight-m @autismsupermusicalassassin @apesarecuul @reallyrallyauthor @basicalyrandom

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If you'd like to be taken off the tag list please let me know here

[bumblebeesfromvenus]

Everybody loves somebody 🫀

RE6!Leon S. Kennedy x wife!reader

A/N: This is my first time writing for older Leon!! I recommend you listen to 'Everybody loves somebody' by Dean Martin as this fic is based around that song. This is a birthday present for my dear friend @vampkennedy ! Happy Birthday, Raf ❤️

~Fi 🐝

Warnings: so much fluff, it's actually disgusting, so fucking sappy, how dare they be so in love, maybe like a smidge of angst, get your tissues ready

Word count: 2.8k

Please don't copy my work! I put a lot of effort and heart into the things I write.

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The dimly lit room was filled not only with warmth, but with love. The love you held so deeply in every crevice of your heart, just for him. Your heart and soul were his entirely, there was no power that could change that. You loved him so fully, like you had never loved anyone before. No one could could compare to him, let only the love he had for you, too.

Every moment with him felt like a waltz, a graceful dance through the warmly illuminated walls of the castle that were your bound hearts. You were almost floating, his grip on you never wavering, and neither was yours. How two humans could hold each other so tightly, yet so incredibly lovingly at the same time was a mystery to you- until you met him. He opened doors you didn't know existed, holding the key in his hands.

He made your chest feel tight with the amount of affection and adoration you harbored in your heart. The gentleness he had about him, so soft it made you melt like honey, was only for you. You were the only one to see it, to hear it. To feel it. Leon was a rough man- tattered around the edges, cold and stoic, but he was nothing but warming and smooth around you. Like all of his doubts, flaws, whatever it was, just vanished the second you were in his vicinity.

There was no feeling greater than having him hold you, your head against his chest listening to his heartbeat, while you just lay there in silence. But it was never really silent. Your love was beyond words, no matter how quiet it was, words of praise and affection always lingered. His hand in yours never failed to remind you of your connected souls.

Deeply intertwined, roots tightly woven around each other like an ancient tree that would stand forever more and never falter. You lifted each other up, two forces that couldn't exist without one another. And you never, ever had to. He'd always be with you and you with him, no matter what might come or what challenges you'll face. You were his, and he was yours.

You recalled your years together, a smile sitting on your cheeks. It was your 5 year anniversary as a married couple. Marrying him was one of the best opportunities you'd ever gotten, and you would do it again in a heartbeat. It was a decision you would never second guess, how could you, when you were so lucky? You could still see it- like it had only happened yesterday.

The nervous look in his eyes, the way he fiddled with his hands. The soft and gentle, sometimes awkward, rookie you fell in love with still lingered deep within him, even if he'd never admit it. But once you made your way down the aisle, all his worries were gone. He couldn't contain the tears that cascaded down his face as the reality finally caught up to him. He would marry you. He would be your husband, your best friend, and whatever else you needed him to be.

The truth was, Leon couldn't wait to feel the coolness of your wedding ring against his stubbly cheek or the warmth of you pressed against him in the early morning hours. He couldn't wait to come home to you, his wife. God, that word made him all warm and fuzzy inside. He had actually beaten the odds and got his happy ending. You were his happy ending, and he would be grateful for you until the fates decided his time was up.

And even then, he'd play the role of Oprheus to get you, his muse, his Eurydice, back from the depths of the Underworld. He'd play the fool if he had to, all for you. Always for you.

You stood in the kitchen, the heat of the oven and stove making small droplets of sweat roll down your skin. The dinner that was boiling on the stove enveloped the room in aromatics and savory smells. It was a favorite of Leon's, a little surprise you were preparing. You used to go to fancy restaurants and other over the top anniversary activities, but ultimately this is was where you felt the most comfortable.

A nice candle lit meal in your shared home was more than enough to satisfy you heart. So you stood here, one hand on your hip, the other stirring the pot with a wooden spoon. You were humming a tune- whatever was on the radio at the moment. Still in your comfy clothes, you turned off the heat to let the dinner simmer. You'd planned to dress up a little- just because you were at home didn't mean you couldn't doll yourself up a bit.

You made your way to your shared bedroom, laying out the dress you'd picked and some jewelry. Now that you think of it, you hadn't seen Leon in a suit in a while. He always looked so good, distinguished, put together. It made a small frown creep onto your face. You rummaged through his side of the closet, seeing whether he still had that one suit that you loved.

Sadly, it was nowhere to be found. You figured he probably sold it or gave it to a friend. He never really wore it, after all. You could always buy him a new one, maybe as a christmas gift. There were definitely occasions where a well tailored suit would come in handy, and maybe you could convince him to wear it just a little more often, just for you. He'd do just about anything you asked, which you sometimes used to your advantage.

You'd give this a little more thought another day, for right now there more important things to worry about. Like would he be home in time, or would you have to spend your wedding anniversary alone? Would be hurt, and if so, how badly? You shook those thoughts away. He was careful. He always was, and you assumed he took extra caution for today. He would always come back to you.

You began getting dressed, he would be home soon, you looked at yourself in the mirror and smiled. God, 5 years. What a number. It felt like you've barely been married for more than a week, still in the honeymoon phase, and at the same time you could've sworn you've been together for a lifetime. Time does fly when you're happy. Truly happy.

You heard the jingling of keys and the click of the doorknob turning. Followed by a rustle of various unidentifiable items and heavy steps on the floor. "Honey? I'm home!" rang out his beautiful voice. It made your heart beat higher, just how domestic that phrase was. You walked towards the noise, checking on the food on your way.

You were about to say something, but when you laid eyes on him, all words left you. He stood there, in the suit you had looked for earlier, hair slightly slicked back, with a pretty tie around his neck. "I see we both had the same idea," he smiled, walking over to you and wrapping your still stunned form in a hug. "Happy 5 years, baby." Leon whispered in your ear, then placing a sweet kiss on your neck.

The stubble on his face made a shiver run up your spine when it touched your skin. "Happy anniversary, sweetheart." You replied, gently caressing his cheek. Leon captured your lips in a passionate kiss, pulling you closer by your waist while your hand was on his cheek and your other arm draped around his neck.

"God, you're gorgeous, look at you," he mumbled after pulling away, his eyes looking over you and admiring what he saw in front of him, lips lightly stained by your lipstick. You chuckled lovingly. "Thank you, love. You look so handsome in that suit. When did you have time to change?" You asked, your hand resting on his chest and slightly toying with the lapel of his jacket.

He was at work today, which usually got pretty bloody and grimey, yet he was here looking like a Hollywood star. Clean and smelling of that irresistibly cologne of his. "Well, showers do exist. Not to mention that a quick stop at a motel to get ready for my special lady is 100% worth the ass kicking I'll get tomorrow." He explained with a grin.

"You left early? Leon-" he stopped what was about to be a worried lecture with a finger to your lips. "I won't hear it, not today. Today s'just about you and me, baby." He smiled softly, pressing a kiss to your forehead. You returned an equally soft smile. "You're right, Honey. Dinner's ready,"

"You made dinner too? Here I was, thinking this was my anniversary present," he smirked, looking you over. Playfully rolling your eyes, you plated everything, Leon closely watching from over your shoulder. You'd set the table earlier today, nothing too extravagant, just a simple tablecloth, the fine silverware, and some candles.

"That smells and looks amazing, baby." He muttered, his arms wrapped around your waist. "S'your favorite," you smiled, awkwardly moving around in his arms to get everything ready. "You're perfect." He mumbled against your shoulder, placing soft kisses on your exposed skin. Your cheeks flushed and your heart skipped a beat. Even after all those years together, his compliments still made your heart soar.

You let out a breathy chuckle. "I don't know about perfect-" you were quickly interrupted by Leon gently turning your head and pressing a kiss to your lips. "But I know. You're perfect, end of discussion." He smirked. "Alright, alright, I'll take your word for it." You giggled, continuing with your task. He hummed in satisfaction, letting his lips graze over your hair.

He let go of you at some point, though reluctantly, he seated himself at the dining table as you served dinner. You ate and chatted, laughing and enjoying yourselves. The atmosphere that you two created drenched the room in love and affection, and a heartfelt symphony of your giggles.

"That was delicious, sweetheart," Leon sighed, wiping his mouth with a napkin. "Good. I spent all day on that damned chocolate souffle!"

He laughed, taking your hand in his. "It was worth it, but..," he trailed off, making you raise an eyebrow,"I had a different dessert in mind." He grinned, stroking your knuckles. "Oh, don't worry. I'm sure your lovely wife would agree to that if you asked nicely," you smiled sweetly. He chuckled and leaned back in his chair, letting go of your hand. "I'll keep that in mind." He said in a low tone, a certain look in his eyes.

The radio was playing in the background, it was set on an oldie channel that you liked listening to while cooking. The soft tunes of Frank Sinatra, Dean Martin, and The Mills Brothers were echoing through the room, the candles in the middle of the table flickering. "I should get started on the dishes," you said softly, getting up from your seat. Leon immediately leaned forward, quickly grabbing your forearm across the table to stop you.

"No, no, no, sweetheart, sit back down." He ordered gently, pulling you back into your chair. "Honey, the kitchen is a mess-"

"I don't care. It's our anniversary. Relax for once, baby," he asked of you, a pleading look in his eyes, the grip he had on your arm softening. A guilty feeling washed over you. You had the habit of running around like a headless chicken sometimes, trying to get as much done as possible.

"M'sorry. I guess I just want everything to be... perfect." You muttered, avoiding his gaze. His brows pulled together, in worry or out of empathy, you didn't know. "It's more than perfect, Darling. Please just enjoy today. Enjoy us. It's been five years since I watched you walk down the aisle, can you believe that?" He chuckled softly, his thumb stroking over your skin. He couldn't even believe it. How did he get so lucky? It was a mystery to him, but god, he was so incredibly grateful.

He never thought he'd ever have this. And somedays, he was anxious, just waiting for everything to vanish, slipping from his grasp. Nothing brings him more comfort on those days than to hold you and remind himself that you're here, with him because you chose to, and that you would never leave. "God, I know. What a perfect day that was, huh?" You sighed, the corners of your mouth turning upwards. There was shimmer in his eyes, a light of pure joy, just like on that very day. Some things never change.

Leon hummed softly in response knowing that no words would do justice to how he felt back then. You sat in the comfortable silence for a while, occasionally catching each others' gaze, which was then met with a loving smile while your fingertips brushed as your hands rested on the table. The radio was still playing softly in the kitchen, the gentle tunes filling the room perfectly.

You perked up, your brows raising once you heard the fluttering melody of one of you favorites; Everybody loves somebody. In turn, Leon's brows scrunched together in confusion. You got up with a smile on your face, if his face would allow it, his brows would furrow even further as you did so silently. "Honey, what are you-" you interrupted him by pulling him out of his chair wordlessly and dragging him to the middle of your livingroom where your hands settled on his chest.

His expression softened once he realized what was happening. You wanted to dance with him. His heart swelled, to have you wanting to do something so intimate and romantic with him. It was a bit silly since you've been married for so long but you never failed to touch his heart. His hands found your waist and gently pulled you closer to him, but you were never close enough for his taste.

You started swaying to the rhythm, the hands that were previously on his chest now resting near the back of his shoulders. Leon matched your rythym, holding you tightly while moving the both of you to the melody. He looked so good. The dim light of the room hitting his features so perfectly. They way he looked at you so adoringly made your cheeks flush.

"You know, I listened to this song on my 17th birthday, wondering when my sometime and where my someplace would be...," you began softly, the gentle smile on his lips prompting you to keep going," and, well, my sometime is now. My someplace is right here, with you, in your arms. Words cannot describe how much I love you. You make my heart sing, Leon." You smiled, placing a hand on his cheek.

His eyes widened slightly and you could feel him stiffen at your confession, but he never stopped swaying you. The way his name fell from your lips in such a truly loving way made his heart beat out of his chest. A sheen of tears glistened in his baby blues, his brows pulled together and you could feel him lean into your touch.

"I love you. God, I love you so much." He sighed, a slight tremble in his usually so confident tone as he placed his forehead against yours. "I love you more." You whispered, your warm breath fanning over his lips. Your nose brushed against his before you pressed your lips to his in a searing kiss. Your lips set his heart aflame, just like they'd done so many times before.

Although searing, the kiss didn't lack passion. Leon couldn't help but groan against your lips, wrapping his arms fully around you and holding you close. You made him feel so loved, like he never had. God, if he could carve out his lovesick heart and serve it to you on a silver platter, he would. A broken sigh escaped him as he metled into you. The sound rumbled in his throat, sending vibrations through your skin.

You only pulled away when you felt a small, wet drop met your hand. You were breathless, the kiss took all the air from your lungs. Looking up at him, you saw something incredibly precious. He was crying. He loved you so much and was completely overwhelmed by your affection that he was crying. You gently wiped the tear with your thumb before caressing his stubbly cheek. "Don't cry, my love." You cooed, making him let out broken cries.

"Shhh.. I'll kiss all your tears away, I promise you that." You whispered with a small smile, pressing gentle kisses on his cheeks. You could taste the saltiness of his tears on your tongue. "I'll love you forever." He mumbled, brushing a piece of hair out of your face, a small smile tugging at his lips. "So will I." Your head fell forward against his chest, his head resting on top of yours. You closed your eyes, sighing contently. As you listened to his steady heartbeat, one thing became crystal clear to you. You've never been so sure about something.

Now was your sometime, this was your someplace and he was your someone.

This was where you belonged.

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I hope you have a lovely day, Raf!<3

[destieltropecollection]

Destiel Trope Collection 2024 | Day 7: Bed Sharing

Stay like this | @tami-ryver Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 1,446 Main Tags/Warnings: Fluff, Cuddling & Snuggling, Cuddling Castiel/Dean Winchester, one bed, Angel Castiel (Supernatural), Castiel's Angelic Grace (Supernatural), Castiel is Not a Morning Person (Supernatural), Summary: Prompt: I love fics where Dean and Cas (or have to) share a bed and it turns sappy and cuddly don't get me wrong. But please consider: "Stop elbowing me in the freaking ribs, Cas" • Dean complains that Cas has stolen all the blankets so Cas splays over him • "Better?" "Shut up and gimme the blankets back"

take your fast car and keep on driving | @cascigarette Rating: Explicit Word Count: 3,069 Main Tags/Warnings: Human Castiel, Set during season 9, Homelessness, Alcohol, References to depression, Angst, Porn with Feelings, Bottom Castiel/Top Dean Winchester, POV Castiel, Blow Jobs, Anal Sex, Bed Sharing, Castiel/Dean Winchester First Kiss, Castiel Loves Dean Winchester, Castiel Needs a Hug Summary: Cas is homeless, human, and alone. On a rainy night, he is stopped by a familiar face, one that he never thought he'd see again. Based loosely on the song "Fast Car" by Tracy Chapman.

Steve and I | @dcforts Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 5,920 Main Tags/Warnings: Episode: s09e06 Heaven Can't Wait - Overnight Time Gap, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Domestic, Light Angst, Sharing a Bed, Human!Cas, Cas has a flat Summary: Steve signed the lease a little over a month ago.

(we are) two queens | @luckshiptoshore Rating: Mature Word Count: 12,765 Main Tags/Warnings: There Was Only One Bed, Sharing a Bed, Pining, Human Castiel (Supernatural), Canon Divergence, Season 8, king or two queens, blowjob, Period-Typical Homophobia, the bi hunter is gay and the gay angel is bi, Mutual Pining Summary: In July I wrote this on my tumblr: concept: Cas hears Dean and Sam asking for ‘two queens’ at motels so many times that one time when he and Dean are on a hunt together he walks confidently up to the front desk and says “we are two queens”. the motel owner is like “yeah bud i guessed” and puts them in a king room. Cas does not notice anything is wrong. Dean is trapped in his own personal hell and cannot say a word. This is the fic of that post.

My Soul Whispers Your Name | @casblackfeathers Rating: Explicit Word Count: 15,943 Main Tags/Warnings: canon divergence, friends to lovers, wing fic, winged dean, idiots in love, mutual pining, grace fic, sharing a bed, light angst with a happy ending, grace-soul bonding, domestic Summary: When Amara tells Dean that she will give him what he needs most, the last thing he's expecting is to sprout fucking wings and to be able to sense what his own soul — and heart — really want, making it impossible for him to ignore all the feelings he's been harboring for Cas over the years. It’s no shock that Dean’s soul is drawn to Cas like gravity and now that Dean can perceive Cas’ grace all the time, he’s constantly reminded how stupidly breathtaking it is. He had been a goner since the second he laid eyes on Cas, and this just seals the deal. Now that he’s stuck like this, he might as well pull his head out of his ass, give it a shot, and finally get what he always wanted.

[cassafrassie]

I joined this fandom 10 years too late and there's rarely new fics being posted so I guess it's up to me now!

Dipper makes a little oopsie when texing Pacifica late at night.

Also available on AO3.

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Read Receipts word count: 2,613 rating: T (language)

He could blame it on the fact that it’s after 2 A.M. and he was up at 5 A.M. for Varsity Swim practice this morning. He could just say it was an accident, pure and simple, like when little kids call their teachers “mom.” He could say he meant to text it to his cousin in Phoenix (he doesn’t have one, but she doesn’t know that). He could claim that Mabel must have been messing with the auto-correct features on his phone again; some sort of mean prank. Hell, he could say it was Mabel who had typed it out in the first place.

None of these thoughts occur to Dipper Pines in this moment. In this moment, the only thought repeating through his head is:

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck

He sits and stares at the offending text. The bright blue bubble surrounding it confirms that yes, he actually sent those words.

Goodnight, love you. 

He watches in frozen horror as the “delivered” text below it transforms into “Read: 2:23 AM.”

Fuuuuuuuuck.

Snapping out of it in an instant, his thumbs feverishly begin tapping out an apology. He stops, erases what he wrote. This isn’t really something you apologize for, right? Would that be weirder than leaving it be? She’s his best friend. She knows he loves her, at least she knows he loves her platonically , and calling it out might draw more unnecessary attention. 

But then, he’s definitely never said those words before. 

Yeah, this is new. It’s weird. He needs to say something.

He starts again, tapping in some bogus message about how life is short and tomorrow is never promised, and hey why not tell your friends you love them? This line of thought is pretty out of character for him, so he blames it on some sappy coming-of-age movie that Mabel was watching the other night. And hey maybe it was kind of saccharine but there’s some truth in all art, right? 

She will totally call bullshit. He erases this too. 

He starts tapping out a simple “ I didn’t mean to send that ” but that’s no good either because he doesn’t want her to think he doesn’t care for her. He just doesn’t want her to know that he’s desperately in love with her, that he thinks about her every night before bed, about how he turns bright red any time his mom innocently asks how she is, or that he printed out that photo of them at the lake last summer and has it taped in his locker at school. 

(“Who is THAT?” his lab partner Tyler once asked, and he just smiled in response. Nothing wrong with letting people think he has a super hot out-of-town girlfriend; he can’t help it if rumors circulate. 

They don’t, but it was worth a shot.)

He’s broken out of his reverie by the appearance of three little blinking dots appearing on his screen. He swallows. 

Pacifica: You know I can see each time you start your message over again, right? 

Dipper feels his cheeks warm. He braces himself and slowly taps out an answer.

Dipper: Yeah, sorry. Overthinking I guess.

Pacifica: You? Never.

Relief floods him. She’s teasing him, this is normal.

Dipper: I know, right? Better call the feds and alert the media.

Pacifica: I’ll start working on the press release.

Dipper: Maybe I can give Toby an exclusive interview. 

This is good, he thinks. They can just banter a bit, and he’ll guide the conversation to another topic and then they can say goodnight again ( sans accidental love confession ) and he’ll push this little slip to the recesses of his brain where he stores every other embarrassing memory. It will live blissfully ignored next to memories of the lamby lamby dance and the time Mabel accidentally uploaded an episode of Dipper’s Guide to the Unexplained to the school server instead of her AV assignment.

Pacifica: So…

Well, shit . Nevermind . 

Dipper: So…

Pacifica: What exactly were you overthinking just now?

Dipper: I mean, I think you know. 

Pacifica: I’d like to know we’re on the same page though. 

Dipper snorts. They haven’t been on the same page about this particular topic since the night he realized just how delectable the smell of champagne and flowers could be, or since the afternoon she entrusted him with her deepest insecurities, and he realized she was one of the most courageous girls he knew.

He smiles grimly as he types his response. Be brave, man. 

Dipper: I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to type that. I know that’s not something we say… not in the way that Mabel and I do, or even Mabel and you do. Sorry if I made you feel weird.

Brave-ish, anyway. 

Pacifica: So it was an accident then?

He frowns. Was he not clear?

Dipper: Well, I mean yeah. 

Her response takes a long time to come in, and he wonders momentarily if she’s fallen asleep. 

Pacifica: Okay, I understand. 

Wait, what?  Is she… disappointed? No, no that doesn’t make sense. She must just be offended, she thinks he doesn’t care about her at all. 

Dipper: No I mean, I do feel like that. Like obviously you mean a lot to me, and that is a real feeling I have. But I just didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable. Since you know, I’m a guy and normally when a guy says that to a girl it means something else. 

That’s better, he thinks, satisfied with himself. Why didn’t he just say this in the first place?

Pacifica: I get it, Dipper.

What the…?

His blood pressure is rising and he feels a jumpy anxiety course through him. Fix it, fix it now his brain screams. 

His finger is tapping the tiny photo of her at the top of their thread and jabbing call before his brain manages to catch up.

She picks up on the first ring. 

“Hello?” answers a small, sniffly voice. 

“Paz? What’s wrong? I’m sorry. What did I do?” 

He hears a quiet chuckle muffled by another sniffle.

“You’re apologizing without even knowing what you did?” she teases lightly, voice still shaky.

“Yes,” Dipper responds without hesitation, not seeing her point.

“You don’t need to apologize, Dip. You didn’t do anything wrong,” she sighs.

“I don’t understand, Paz. Why are you crying?” 

“It’s nothing, don’t worry about it.”

“Paz, I’m going to worry. You’re upset and it’s my fault.”

“It’s not your fault. It’s mine,” she says quietly, so unlike herself. 

Dipper’s head is still swimming, looking for answers. The emotional whiplash he’s gone through in the last ten minutes isn’t helping. 

“Can we talk about it?” he ventures, keeping his voice low. In his urgency to call her he forgot that everyone else in his house is asleep. The last thing he needs is his dad walking in on this conversation and ushering him to bed.

Pacifica is quiet for a few long seconds, but eventually he hears a soft “okay.”

He stays quiet, giving her space to pull together her thoughts.

“I… liked what you said earlier. When you said goodnight. It felt nice. And I guess it made me sad to find out you didn’t mean to say it.” 

Well now you’ve gone and done it. Idiot , he thinks at himself. 

He takes a deep breath, decides to edge a little closer to honesty. 

“I’m… really glad it made you happy. It’s… true. I do…feel that,” he says carefully, not having the courage to repeat the forbidden L-word . “You mean the world to me,” he adds, hoping it will be a bit of a balm to his earlier fumble. 

She sniffles again, but it’s not quite as wet as her earlier sniffs.

He continues, slowly, deciding to edge one more toe a bit closer to the truth. Under no circumstances is he about to confess his undying and likely unrequited romantic love, but he can make her feel better.

“I don’t think you know how much you mean to me,” he adds.

“That’s probably true…”

He puzzles at her response, chewing on his bottom lip. Before he can reply, she continues. 

“That’s why I’m sad. I don’t… know, really , how much I mean to you. In…” there’s a long pause. “In what way.” 

His heart leaps into his throat, hopefully. Could she…? No…

“Oh,” is all he manages to say.

“I wish I did,” she says bluntly.

There’s no avoiding what she’s hinting at. Hell, she’s not even really hinting. He’s so close to telling her, telling her all of it, but there’s that one small, mean voice in his head telling him that she could never return his feelings, that she just wants to clear the air because it’s become so obvious that he’s crazy about her, and she wants to let him down easy so they can go on being friends…

But she keeps talking, interrupting the small, mean voice.

“I want you to know how I feel, too,” she says, a bit more of her usual confidence finding its way back into her tone. Dipper senses that she’s made up her mind about something.  

The only thought present in his mind now is that he’s about to either be the happiest he’s ever been, or have his heart shattered into a million pieces. 

“But can we talk about it in person?” she asks. 

He chokes.

“Yeah, yeah of course, that’s fine,” he lies. 

It absolutely is not fine , his heart wails. He won’t be in Gravity Falls for another two months. How on earth is he going to wait two months to hear the answer to the question that’s been on his mind for the last four years? 

“Can you… ugh this is embarrassing–” she starts.

“What?” He interjects. “Whatever you want, it’s done.”

He winces. Ugh, he’s such a goner.

But he thinks he can hear a smile in her response, which calms him a little. “Could you tell me some things you like about me, in the meantime?” she asks. “I’m… uh… feeling a little vulnerable right now.”

“Oh… yeah, yeah of course.”

He thinks for a beat, cataloging the thousands of images, feelings, and memories currently flooding his mind. 

“Well just to get it out of the way first because it’s incredibly obvious, you’re gorgeous. But you don’t need to hear that from me.”

“But I like hearing it from you. I like hearing… you say that,” she repeats, with emphasis.

He’d have to be pretty thick to not catch her meaning there, and Dipper may be many things but he’s not a complete idiot. 

Emboldened, he goes on.

“Alright, well, you’re stunning. Like, the way your eyes match the sky, and when the sunlight hits your hair and it just kind of shimmers.” He makes a waving motion with his fingers even though she can’t see it. “And when you smile, I swear it makes everything brighter. Whenever one of my friends down here sees your photo…” He almost tells her about the locker photo, but decides against it. No need to out himself as a total creep just yet. “They’re always just like, shocked, that I even know someone like you.” 

Pacifica giggles. “Okay, okay, I get it. You think I’m pretty.”

“It’s not just that though,” he adds quickly. “The way you stand up to your parents– and I know you can’t go full-on rebel-mode– but you do it in your own subtle ways, and I just want you to know that I see that, and I think it’s amazing. You’re brave; you always have my back when we’re exploring. You’re hilarious, even if half of your jokes are at my expense… I don’t mind it. Because they’re usually true. And I like that you’re paying attention to me. I like being seen by you, too.” He swallows. “I’m happy when I’m around you. Even if you’re driving me up a wall. It… it feels good.”  

His honesty, rather than feeding his insecurities, has him feeling bold.

“I like it when we’re together. I think we’re good together,” he finishes. 

And it sort of feels like he just took a flying leap off a cliff. 

“I think we’re good together too,” she says. 

And it’s also like landing in a soft, warm, solid bed. 

“Okay,” she starts. “Okay, I feel better. Thank you, Dipper.” He hears her sigh contentedly. “I can let you go now; I know you’ve had a long day.”

But he’s still feeling brave. And he’s not really used to the feeling when it comes to this, so he doesn’t want to let it go to waste.

“Hey, not so fast, missy,” he says, keeping his voice playful. “I can’t let you go to bed hearing all those sweet nothings without getting some for myself.”

She giggles, and his heart soars.

“Okay, mister,” she teases back. “Fair is fair.”

“Feel free to start with my devastatingly handsome features, too. Rogue-ish good looks. All that.”

She giggles again and ugh he’s going to get addicted to the oxytocin that floods his brain at the sound. Oh, who the hell is he kidding? He has been for a long time. 

“Okay well, yes, you do have a certain inherent charm that is somewhat related to your cute, cocky smile, I suppose…” Dipper feels himself grin involuntarily. “But what I like most about you, devastatingly roguish features aside, is your character. How you care about right and wrong. How you challenge me to be better, but never make me feel judged. How curious you are about the world around us, and how you help me learn new things, too. How you love your family, and stop at nothing to protect them… and me. You make me feel safe. And I just… I admire you.”

“Paz, I don’t want to wait until June for–” He almost says “for this” but realizes they haven’t exactly called a spade a spade yet, and he wants to keep up the charade they both know they are playing until they are face-to-face. “--to talk about this.”

“...what are you doing Saturday?”

“This Saturday?” he asks, surprised. 

She hums in confirmation. 

“Uh… well, nothing. Some people were going to the movies, but that– that’s so not important.”

“Well, there’s… this little city off the five, near Mount Shasta, it'd be about a three hour drive for each of us. We could both leave early… have a late breakfast together… it looks like there’s this arboretum that could be cool, or maybe just walk along the river…”

“Wow, you know a lot about this particular town, Paz,” Dipper teases.

“I’ve never been, but… I might’ve done some research into the area…” she admits, and he thinks he can hear a shy smile breaking through in her voice. 

“Sounds like a date.” And he grins at his own cleverness, at the double meaning. 

“Yeah,” she laughs. “I guess it is.”

“I’ll see you Saturday, then,” he says, and the butterflies in his stomach somersault happily. 

“See you then,” she replies, and he knows he can hear her own grin now. “Goodnight, Dipper.”

“Goodnight, Pacifica.” He pauses. Fuck it. “Love you.” 

“I love you too.”

Dipper lets the phone drop on his chest as he falls backwards onto his bed, dopey smile plastered to his face and pleasant warmth coursing through his body. 

He starts thinking of all the ways he can tell and show her just what she means to him– just as soon as she’s in his arms. And as these pleasant thoughts slowly shift into dreams, he gives in to sleep with an unburdened mind and full heart.

[hitlikehammers]

seven across

rating: t ♥️ cw: established relationship, SUCH FLUFF ♥️ tags: marriage proposals, crossword puzzles, slice of life, softness

for @steddielovemonth day twenty-seven: Love is watching them do the stupidest things and falling harder for them every time (anon) + Love is just a four-letter word (@sal-si-puedes)

@pearynice said both of these prompts could be together and I said...let's try! ♥️

“Thing I want to be for you every single moment always, past the day I fucking die.”

They’re not, like, particularly serious about the crossword in the newspaper. As in, they don’t spend all morning on it, they don’t judge the tenor of their whole day based not on whether they finish it, but instead how fast they finish it, they absolutely do not do it in pen—

Basically, they’re not Nancy about it; but they do have fun with it. It’s just a quirky little…nerd thing they share before their coffees are done, before they kiss at their car doors and leave for work, or like this, on the weekends: before they start another pot of coffee and kiss about the clues they couldn’t figure out while it brews.

“Head,” Steve answers, off-handed, looking down his nose with his glasses perched low as he reads the middle section of the paper, something about stocks…probably.

“There’s no indicator,” Eddie snorts at Steve’s response, shakes his head but doesn’t bother to smother his grin; “it’s not what I want to give you every single moment.”

“So you agree you do want that, though,” Steve peeks up so sly, so teasing, so fucking gorgeous it hitches in Eddie’s chest when he so much thinks about it, about him, about his Steve—let alone when he’s face-to-face with the genuine article, grinning in all his glory.

“Was that in question?” Eddie recovers, but he knows his tone’s a little lovesick, knows his smile’s a little dopey for feeling, but this man.

Just; this man.

“Love,” Steve grins around a sip of his coffee, glances down at the crossword in front of Eddie to indicate another guess but his eyes sparkle in that way of his, just so, and Eddie knows it’s…not just a guess.

“Again,” Eddie huffs but can’t help the way a smile stretches wide enough to strain, to ache in his cheeks in the best possible way: “not a thing I give,” and he lets the hand not holding the pencil reach for Steve’s, which is waiting for him, grabs when Eddie’s close and laces thiner fingers together so Eddie can squeeze tight as he breathes out:

“But also never in question.”

Steve’s reading again, so it takes Eddie a little by surprise when his hand’s been lifted, and then pressed to Steve’s mouth with a kiss and when he looks up Steve’s already staring at him, the look there so fucking tender.

“I meant it was a noun,” Steve says so softly, his tone tender, too; “you are what love means to me.”

And Eddie’s pulse does a little double-skip for that because Steve can say those things forever, and it’s won’t ever stop fluttering around in Eddie’s chest like something miraculous.

In fact, Eddie really hopes Steve will say it forever.

“Sap,” he tries to volley back but it mostly comes out sappy, and a little too choked to be anything but a fucking compliment.

“Just honest,” Steve shrugs, smiling soft and playing with Eddie’s fingers before setting them back on the table, but not letting go as he gives another guess a try:

“Home.”

“Also not in question,” Eddie sighs a little…fuck, yeah, a little dreamily before tacking on: “you’re all I need, to know that I’m home.”

And it’s true. It’s so fucking true.

Eddie’s floating on the truth of it, and the fact that he gets to live that truth like this, and he’ll blame that as more than good enough reason to miss how Steve scoots his chair closer and leans over his shoulder to look at the paper he’s writing on.

“That’s more than four letters.”

Yep: Eddie will absolutely blame the high of just…being with Steve, of loving like this, for distracting him from the whole fucking pointof the conversation.

“Oh, I, umm,” Eddie fumbles a little, flustered where he really shouldn’t be, this was actually kind of the plan and he reminds himself of that sternly before he chuckles, and it’s only a little forced to get his footing back: “forgot to say we were past those.”

He looks up at Steve thought his lashes, honestly a bit sheepish and yes, he does bask in Steve’s endeared eyeball, in his indulgent smile before he takes another sip of his coffee, and Eddie thinks he’s in the clear when Steve asks:

“What’s the real clue?” Because they do this, they play with the clues more than they probably don’t when the answer’s obvious, because this is something they do together, and if whichever of them’s manning the writing utensil knows what to write in and they just move onto the next, that cuts down the fun, the soft moments they get to have like this.

And Eddie wouldn’t fucking trade this for…for anything.

“Umm,” Eddie draws out, not just the keep the moment but also because woah, wait: Steve’s putting his mug down and he’s leaning in and that’s not how this goes, nope, not even a little, hold the fuck on—

Also Eddie is supposed to be composed for this, because it’s important, it’s so fucking important, and when Steve’s pressed up against him like this, soft and casual in the mornings together, Eddie cannot be expected to focus, or else: not to focus on anything but the blissful warmth of Steve’s body against him like it belongs, because it belongs, and—

“Wait,” Steve’s nose scrunches, fucking delicious but he’s very close, and he’s reading over Eddie’s shoulder and…okay, okay, this was part of the plan, he just didn’t expect it so fast, or maybe he just didn’t expect the way his mouth’s all dry and his throat’s all tight, and his heart’s beating so goddamn hard but none of it’s like it’s nerves exactly, or maybe not mostly nerves, because mostly it’s just Steve, being near, and something like…excitement, but still:

Still: some of it’s nerves.

“This one’s wrong, babe,” Steve points to one of the verticals feeding down into the number they’re working on: Eddie hadn’t asked about it, and Steve’s frowning maybe for that reason first, before he notices…it’s not even close.

Because none of these were really supposed to match the clues; that wasn’t the point.

And Eddie watches, while Steve reads the other lines that feed into the not-four-letters he had asked after, the actually-seven-letters he’d asked Steve to give to him with a very specific clue, and Eddie’s breath catches when Steve turns to him, eyes big and swimming with questions as he exhales so so soft:

“Eddie?”

Because Eddie’d filled in some of the word, with the wrong-other-words.

It’s…not hard to guess when you see it:

_ U _ B A _ D

And Steve’s breath catches too, then, because, well: with Eddie’s clue, it’s kinda…it’s kinda really easy:

Thing I want to be for you every single moment always, past the day I fucking die.

Steve’s lips part, and his eyes get shiny, shimmery, and Eddie swallows, grabs Steve’s hand and moves the edge of a plate that’s been hiding a ring, breathes in the little gasp Steve give when he sees it like nectar to the gods but sweet, more life-giving than even that, and Eddie trembles a little as he holds it out and meets Steve’s gaze: the tears as slow to fall down Steve’s cheeks, and Eddie knows his are no better, and he means to ask immediately but…Steve is so fucking beautiful, and Eddie’s just a man, y’know?

He cannot help but to stare, and savor, and soak in this moment and this image, to etch it in his memory and call it perfection, and marvel at how it’s been his all this time but then…how Steve’s glowing and his lips are quirked the slightest bit and he’s, he’s…

Eddie opens his mouth to ask, he really does, but Steve’s letting go of his hand and reaching to frame Eddie’s face, and then he’s pulling Eddie to him, practiced and sure and Eddie leans because he knows exactly where he fits, always, and, like, maybe the question’s not even necessary.

Maybe Steve's lips are an answer in themselves.

tag list (comment to be added): @pearynice @hbyrde36 @slashify @finntheehumaneater @wxrmland @dreamwatch @perseus-notjackson @estrellami-1 @bookworm0690 

♥️

divider credit here

[wooahaes]

as much as you’ve waited, i’ll hug you with my whole body

pairing: non-idol!lee know x fem!reader

genre: fluff. very very slight angst i think? not a ton though.

word count: 1.2k~

warnings: sappy lino. predictable as hell, but thats okay. reader is a cat mom.

daisy’s notes: oh this wasnt supposed to be longer than all the others... whoops. guess i love cat butler too much-

The apartment felt emptier than normal without Minho, especially on your birthday.

Sure, you weren’t a complete shut-in for the day. That morning, you had dressed up all nice and pretty and gone out with a couple of your girl friends for a bit to distract you from the lonely feeling that’d been eating at you for the past several days. Your boyfriend had gone abroad for a few days for a work venture alongside his boss and a few of his other coworkers, and it just so happened he wouldn’t be getting back until tomorrow morning. He’d called you every night just to catch up (save for that first night--his coworker, Felix, had sent you a picture of him passed out in bed with a tiny apology that you wouldn’t hear from him until the next day), to check in on you (and your three furry children). He’d called you last night, too, just to wish you a happy birthday once the clock flipped over to midnight. He said that they’d be done with work sometime today, but that their flight wasn’t until late. Otherwise he’d be right there with you, curled up close and holding you tight.

So you sent him pictures of the kids (and one of yourself, at his request) in their cat tree, or playing with toys, or doing anything you deemed picture-worthy... which, to be fair, was most things. Sometimes you swore your boyfriend rubbed off on you with how many pictures in your camera roll consisted of the cats. Doongie had laid across your shoes the day after Minho left, fussing at you to not leave him, and you’d sent the video to him of you gently trying to tell him to let you leave. That his dad would be back, soon... and that you missed him, too. 

At least you had the cats to keep you company. And sometimes Chris, who came by at one point to check on you (prompted by Minho, no doubt) and share a meal with you so you didn’t always have to eat alone... and Jisung, who swung by (also prompted by Minho, you knew for sure) to invite you out for a walk. He had turned red when you called him out on it, and he had insisted further that he only invited you out because he, too, wanted to go for a walk... even if Minho did tell him to check on you. It’d been nice to get out of the apartment, and the two of you ended up getting ramen together at a place you ended up finding.

But now you were waiting on your takeout, thinking about the cupcake that sat before you on the coffee table. You’d managed to keep the cats away from it (although they’d stopped showing interest a while ago once they got a whiff of it and realized it wasn’t appetizing enough for them), and now you were holding back. Dinner first, then you could light the candle and celebrate something by yourself... Or with the cats, if you could round them up to sit with you.

The buzzer rang out, and you hopped up to make your way over. Doongie had began to fuss, and you had stopped long enough to quiet him down.

“Just a little longer,” you said, reaching out to scratch him behind his ears as he peered up at you. “And then your dad will be home.”

He merely fussed at you again before taking off, continuing to yell at the door. Despite your scolding, you went to unlock the door with an apology on your lips for all the fuss if the delivery guy still happened to be there.

Only for Minho to be standing there, jacket draped over his arm and suitcase sat beside him. “Happy birthday,” he said. “I made it.”

All at once, you felt overwhelmed at the sight of him standing there, as cliche as it all felt. You covered your mouth, fighting back the urge to cry and losing almost instantly. He had said he couldn’t catch an earlier flight, that he had looked into it and there was nothing. With a sniffle, you stepped forward and into his arms, wrapping your own around him tight.

“We finished up early,” he told you, arms curving around you and holding you tight. “So I thought I would surprise you.”

Most days, you knew Minho as someone who was... a little quiet, even after how long you’d been dating. Silly, too: he always knew how to make you laugh. And sometimes, in moments like these, he knew how to make your heart feel like it was squeezed so tight that it burst. The softer, more forthcoming Minho who was honest with you because he knew both of you valued that. That while he did, technically, deceive you and make you think he wouldn’t be here... It was just so he could surprise you like this.

“How did--” You pulled your face back from his shoulder, “How’d you get here?”

A pause.

“Chris.” The two of you said at the same time. Of course it’d be Chris who picked him up this late and brought him home to you. You knew the others would do it, too, if he asked, but Chris wouldn’t hesitate. You’d have to thank him later.

Minho pulled away from you long enough to pick up his bag and usher you back inside. You listened to him address Doongie, who was very vocally giving him a piece of his mind for leaving him for so long, and went to find the other two. Soonie had been curled up on his side of the bed (that was where he spent most of his time, while Dori was in his zoomies mode, zipping from room to room as though he were being chased. 

The door sounded again as he was heading to put his bag away to unpack later, and you made a comment about it being your food this time. When you came back to find Minho, he was petting Soonie, speaking to him in a quiet voice.

“Did you watch after her like I asked?” He scratched behind the cat’s ears. “You have to keep her company whenever I’m gone. She’s your mom, too.”

Something about how earnest he seemed when speaking to the cats like this (not the first time, and it’d never be the last) made you tear up again. Had he bought an entirely new ticket just to come home early to see you? He looked up, and could see the look on your face.

“Ah, honey...” He made his way over, already opening his arms back to you as you sought refuge in them. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to make you cry...”

“It’s okay,” you said, hugging him tight. “I’m crying because I’m happy, silly.”

“I know, but...” He shut his eyes, holding you tight. “Is there anything we can do to celebrate your birthday before its over? I slept on the plane. I can stay up longer.”

You shook your head. “I just want you to hold me a little longer first. Is that okay?”

With a blissful sigh, he held you tighter. “Always,” he said softer, gently stroking your back. “I love you. I’m glad I made it in time.”

taglist: @twancingyunhao​

[nat-20s]

a fic featuring Fourteen and Donna being so so eepy (also on a03)

During one of The Doctor’s usual puttering about at 3 am in the Tardis, they immediately notice two things about a certain door. The first is that in the latest rearrangement of the floor plan, this door has gone from the hidden depths of what we’ll call it “the basement”, to a fairly central area of the top level. Second, and perhaps more alarmingly, this door that has been locked for millennia is now cracked ajar.

He doesn’t, however, feel any immediate panic. Instead, a little smile he can’t quite hold back appears on his face. Soft in their old age, really. Should at the very least check that what he thinks is behind the door is there, and not some sort of intruder. Technically, while the bio-metric locks that had been put in place were some of the finest in the universe, he had enough experience to know that no locks were truly unpickable.

As gingerly as possible, The Doctor opens the door enough to peek their head inside; it’s immediately revealed that he truly needn’t have worried about a break in. Donna Noble, currently prone on the bed, had been the one to open her room, just as he had guessed.

He should have worried about how now, apparently, Donna was an extremely light sleeper. He had been almost certain that he hadn’t made a noise, but not even a full second later, she rolls over to face the door and stirs awake. Blinking away some of the sleep, she sees him and gives him a half-sheepish, half-tired smile. Before he can say something along the lines of “don’t mind me, get some rest”, she pats the space next to her and gives him a “c’mere” nod of the head.

The Doctor goes willingly, and even manages to not hold their breath stepping through the former mausoleum of their best friend’s memory. He settles next to her, face to face in a classic “talking too late at night during a sleepover” pose. Because of who they are, he can’t help but let the first thing he says be, “I seem to remember someone lecturing me about sleeping in the Tardis when there’s a perfectly good bed in a perfectly good house, spaceman.”

Donna must be half-awake, because instead of arguing, she gives a one shoulder shrug and scrunches up her nose in amusement. “You caught me.”

“I thought everyone but Granddad was at the London house tonight?”

“Oh, they are. Work ran late and here was closer, so I sent off a text letting them know I was crashing here instead.”

“In the Tardis?”

“Well. No. That’s my little secret. Or, I suppose, our little secret now.”

The Doctor raises an eyebrow at her, asking for more info, to which she replies with a sigh. “You know, I wasn’t a super fussy baby-”

“-a bit shocking to hear, considering-”

“Oi! As I was saying, I wasn’t colicky or anything like that, but if Mum just could not get me to settle down, she would pop me in a car seat and drive around the neighborhood. Said I was out like a light within minutes.”

He has no idea where this story is going. He finds he doesn’t mind. It’s silly and sappy of him (what isn’t, these days?), but he finds it deeply charming when Donna goes on a little ramble. Especially when sleepiness is slowing her words and she keeps blinking for more and more seconds. They think they’ll get maybe 5 more minutes to chat before she’s fully gone again, and they’re going to savor it. She continues, “She stopped doing that when I old enough to toddle into their room and fall asleep between them. God, one morning they had gotten up early and I apparently screamed my little head off thinking they had left me forever.”

She says that last statement with a roll of her eyes, passing it off as one of those things kids do, but The Doctor’s heart lets out a pang. He wishes he could’ve told little Donna that it was okay, that her parents are there and they love her so so much. He wishes he could tell all Donnas that she won’t be left behind, not in the end. (They also wish they could tell themselves that they don’t get left behind, eventually.)

Personal timelines, however, are messy, and best left alone. Instead, he stays now, and he listens, and he takes Donna’s hand in his own. “Honestly, I don’t think my sleeping habits have changed that much. I still hate sleeping alone. I still hate sleeping motionless. Stick me on a boat with someone to cuddle up to and I’ll have the best rest of my life.”

She looks around the room briefly, then presses her forehead to the Doctor’s and continues, “You know, kind of like the nights I spent here. The Tardis, this room...it was only my home for a year. But it was also the most home I had been for a long, long time. And the house is lovely, so lovely, still can’t believe you bought us a house, but right now it’s too quiet and I missed it here. The various whirs and clicks and hums the Tardis makes? Better than any white noise machine on the market.”

The Doctor grins at her, feeling a bit smug and a lot soppy. “Now you know how I feel.”

She gives a half hearted poke at his chest, which is rather undercut by the yawn she lets out. “Still, ‘spect you to stay with us the majority of the nights.”

“Hey, I’m with you right now, aren’t I?”

She closes her eyes, giving a grin and a hushed, “Yeah, you are,” before slipping straight back to dream land. He technically could slip away now, but he’s already under the covers, are the steady breathing of his best friend is having a rather lulling effect. Remembering that he’s now allowed to rest, whenever he wants, he snuggles in closer, pulls the blankets tighter around them, and does just that.

[fantasyandshit]

The light and the dark

Type:series

Pairing: Azriel x reader

Part: 7/?

Other parts

Summary: it is decided the inner circle will take a trip to the day court to hopefully receive more answers

We sit at the table for breakfast, piling different assortments of delicious food onto our plates. Just as I put a scoop of egg on my plate, Rhysand speaks up, “So Yn, I spoke with Helion, a close friend of mine who is the high lord of the day court- he would like us to all go down to see him so he can get a closer look at your magic.”

I nod before he continues, “I would also like to know- Feyre told us you fought in underground rings and often did strength training back in the human lands” there’s a pause, me and my sisters all tensing up, “I wanted to know if you’d be interested in further training in combat with myself, Cassian, and Azriel? You are already quite the extraordinary fighter if you taking down Hyberns guards says anything but it never hurts for a bit more practice no?”

“I would love to, honestly I’ve been dying to train again, I miss it all very much.”

“Wait you-you enjoyed it?” I look over to Feyre who has confusion painted on her face.

“Well of course I did it to help us but Feyre I loved fighting, I loved the adrenaline and the feeling of being strong enough to beat others and get back up when I didn’t. Feyre, the fighting and physical activity- it helps me cool down, we all know I’m a hot head and this helps, and after? After I’m tired enough nothing stresses me anymore, I’m finally able to calm down from the whirlwind of life.”

I feel Rhysands claws at the back of my head- he knows there’s more and I let him see, shortly agter Feyres eyes get cloudy before she looks to me. “Yn. No, no you did not need to- you didn’t deserve. Why would you?”

“Hey, hey no- we aren’t about to get all sappy here.” I turn to Rhysand, “I want to train- but I also want to know more about what’s to come because I need to be prepared for what I’m guessing is about to become an all out war that I WILL be participating in.”

Rhysand simply nods before we continue eating, myself and Cassian making jokes to ease the tension. I can feel Ariel’s eyes on me the entire breakfast, I simply look over and give him a small smile before turning back to my plate as our shadow and light plays together around us.

In the end, it is decided we will go to the day court in two hours time, and myself and Azriel will stay for a total of four nights and three and a half days and leave the next morning.

I make my way up to my room, packing my bags and then deciding to shower and get clean before we leave.

———

We are winnowed to the day court fairly fast and I am amazed to say the least. The day court is absolutely gorgeous, bright and stunning in so many ways. As we make our way up the steps we are greeted by a dark skinned man who is just absolutely glowing, clad in a white almost robe of a garment that is just as gorgeous as him.

The male smirks at me as he takes my hand in his, kissing it as a greeting, “hello, you must be Yn. I’m Helion, it’s a pleasure to meet you. And may I just add you are absolutely stunning darling.” I can see Azriel tense up out of the corner of my eye but ignore it.

“Hello Helion, I’ve heard much about you, the pleasure is all mine really. And may I just say your court is gorgeous.”

A small chuckle leaves his lips, “well thank you. Now, why don’t we get straight to business? Follow me.”

Our group follows the high lord into an office space, filled with bookshelves and a window facing the most beautiful of views, in the middle of the room is a desk with papers stacked across it. “Now, I did some research and I found a few things of interest- Now, it is said the couldron brings out one’s most inner of forms- seeing as from what you tell me Yn was the warrior of her family, she was turned into one of a warrior race, it also shows who she is on the inside. Now with the light, it seems you are much like Azriel here- the opposite actually, you are what’s known as a light singer and just like our spy master here- you are the only one to exist in centuries. The reason for this being your power is unknown to me but I can tell you that it will work much the same to Azriels, you must gain control of the light, learn to speak to it and learn from them.” I nod along slowly, soaking in the information. “Now I’d like to take the time you and Azriel are here to really look more into you and your abilities, because truly I have never seen anything like you and you are quite intriguing if I say so myself.”

I nod a final time before we move to the next subject- the war. I take this moment to get as much information as possible, I was given very little but want to know as much as possible.

———

Heyyy guys, I am so so so sorry for how terrible at updates I’ve been. I have been having some serious writers block along with some mental health issues but I promise I’m working on it! I want to say that the tag list will be moved to be on this series’ masterlist instead of where it has been previously at the end of chapters. Lastly I want to give a little spoiler as a treat so you know some of the fun coming up- it’s simple really, there WILL be Lucien angst with Yn and Elain angst with Azriel.

Ok ok byeee now, thanks so much for reading and I love you all so much, thank you for the support!!

@isa1b2h3

@pinksmellslikelove

@sassybluebird

@gorlillaglue25

@khaleesihavilliard

@thehighlordishere

@minnieoo

@wallacewillow0773638

[idolatrybarbie]

odd couple

pairing: established francisco "frankie" morales x reader

word count: 2.5k

rating & summary: explicit, mdni! | frankie can't cook, to put it lightly.

tags: no trigger warnings needed for this one, porn with (little) plot, rated e like woah, frankie needs a win, very unedited as of initial posting, stubborn!frankie, premature ejaculation, handjobs, cumplay, overstimulation, sub!frankie moments, multiple orgasms, spit kink/drooling, #petnames4frankie, praise kink, slight dacryphilia, reader calls frankie "wet" in this idk that might not be your thing i guess. look man it's been a hard week.

notes: it's not wednesday and i am struggling a lil' bit (might make a personal life update soon idk ?) but i am being such a brave little toaster about it! writing this definitely made me feel better. when it comes to music, this weezer song is a little generic within their discography but whatever, i like it. hope you enjoy! also everyone go read @wannab-urs sub!max phillips fic because i say so and it's awesome.

You listen to Frankie move around the kitchen from your spot on the couch, trying your very best to ignore the occasional clang and clattering noise that flows out from the distant doorway. Tonight, he has taken on the task of making the two of you dinner. Or trying to, anyway. You don’t cook much either. Your job, like his, doesn’t lend much time to it. Takeout is more than often what’s on the menu—Burger King, of all things, is his favourite.

You know how to cook though. Every once in a while you have the spare time to whip together something truly delicious; slow-roasted pork belly, or maybe a nice pasta with garnish. Frankie doesn’t seem to know his ass from the oven.

The two of you have had this conversation hundreds of times. You stating that he can’t cook, and him pushing back, insisting that he can. Or he could, before the service stuck him with single meal MREs for a number of years and he lost most of the culinary knowledge given to him by various tías, his abuela, and of course Mrs. Morales herself.

His stubbornness spurs the occasional urge to throttle him. It’s fine you can’t cook, you always tell him. Not like he can’t still learn. Still, he insists, and insists on insisting on top of that.

Honestly, you couldn’t be more of opposites. Even excluding skills of domestic labour, he and you are a bit of an odd couple. Frankie’s an early mornings guy, always, while you enjoy a sleepy Sunday—or just about any day that ends in Y. He hates the horror movies you fawn over, while you can’t stand the nature documentaries and sappy celebrity biopics that he eats up year over year. Frankie is highly detail-oriented, the engineer instinct in him always angling towards rigid preparedness; you’re a bit more goal-focused, letting any plan morph and adjust according to the situation.

Another such cooking conversation had taken place on the drive home after declining Frankie’s offer of McDonald’s for the fourth night this week, and now here you are: listening to the man curse under his breath, muttering complaints from the kitchen as he tries his hand at homemade spaghetti.

The kitchen is silent for a moment. You go back to channel surfing, clicking past reruns of Golden Girls and M*A*S*H*. Stopping at a channel playing the cinematic masterpiece Grease 2, you focus your attention on the open doorway behind you again. It feels almost too quiet…

A string of hushed, panicked curses from Frankie confirms your suspicions. Getting off the couch, you use the soft overhead light to guide you through the dark apartment. Frankie is standing over the stove when you see him, quickly moving away and towards the sink. Water splashes into it, surely scalding as steam rises into the air. Or maybe that’s coming from his ears?

You clear your throat in the kitchen doorway, and Frankie turns to you. His face is slightly red, a silver pot held in his grip by the towel-covered handle.

“Is everything okay?” You already know the answer to that question—aggravation rolls off of him in waves, permeating the space between the two of you like a mirage in the Mojave Desert.

Frankie opens his mouth to respond, but the words never come. He does this a few times, wracking his brain for the proper way to put it as he parts and pleats his lips, living up to his call sign.

Eventually, he settles on, “No.”

He heaves a deep sigh, tossing the pot onto the counter. Getting a closer look at it, you see the charred spaghetti noodles stuck to the shiny bottom.

“Don’t, okay?” Frankie says before you look up again.

“What?”

“I know what you’re gonna say. I told you so, blah blah blah. I know. You’re right. I can’t fuckin’ cook.” The words are rushed, like he’s half-embarrassed to even say it.

You frown, reaching an open palm out to him as you shake your head. “That’s not what I was going to say.” You motion for him to come closer and he does, slipping into your arms as you hug at his tense shoulders. “It’s okay. You can take a class, or we can work on it together. I think that’d be kind of fun,” you say.

Picturing making something with Frankie—maybe bowties and broccoli, something simple—has you smiling into his shoulder. For his birthday last year you made red velvet cupcakes with sour cream frosting. The recipe is a little more complicated, but baking them with him this time is a pleasant idea. You already know he’s the type of person to lick the batter off the beater.

“I don’t want to do that to you,” he says.

You pull back from the hug to look at him, those big brown eyes of his crinkled at the far edges. “You’re not doing anything to me,” you say. “At least, not right now.”

A small smile comes to his face then, creeping and dopey before Frankie gives you a soft kiss at the tip of your nose.

“They should really give you a Netflix special or something,” he says.

“Thank you, thank you. I’ll be here all night,” you muse.

Still in your arms, Frankie glances over at the pot of blackened, noodle-shaped mush. “What are we gonna do for dinner?”

Right now, he’s in the closest proximity to you that he’s been all week. At least, while you’ve both been conscious. Work has you staying later and later at the office these days, while his shifts handling flight operations have him drained, in bed and fast asleep well before you even get home. Tonight is special even if it hasn’t gone the way either of you planned.

You hum, dipping your head to nose at the patchy beard along his jaw. “I’m thinking we skip dinner.”

“Come on, seriously,” Frankie says.

“I am serious.” Leaving a wet kiss on his cheek, you whisper, “Don’t you want your dessert, Francisco?”

A hum rumbles low in his chest. “Of course, but—”

“But nothing.” You move your left hand to cradle the side of his face, his skin smooth under your touch. He leans into its warmth. “I’m hungry.”

You know that he is too. At your words, Frankie practically jumps you, a kiss pressed to your lips hard before your brain can catch up with what’s happening. He holds you in his arms tight, like if he loosens his grip even a bit, you’ll float away. The pair of you move out of the kitchen and back into the living room, the horrible 80’s movie still dancing across the pixels of the TV.

Frankie falls onto his back, bouncing against the couch cushions. The remote is underneath him, the mute button conveniently hit upon his landing. The cheesy show tunes cut out immediately. You move to straddle him as he lays horizontal. Frankie cranes his neck a bit to watch you as you settle over the crotch of his sweatpants. He’s half hard under the fabric already.

Frankie pulls you down into another bruising kiss. You hunch over to meet his lips, his hands circling around your waist. You’ve decided to take the Frankie approach to tonight’s activities; cool and calculated in your plans and decisions on how this is going to go. Grinding your hips down, you watch his face carefully. He huffs out a breath, soft and peppery like the cinnamon gum he keeps in his car.

You reach between your bodies to feel him in his pants. Frankie kisses at your face, quick and sporadic as you palm at him. He moves to lift your shirt off your body and you let him, raising your arms to help him. He tosses the thing to the floor and lets his hands rove over your skin. Continuing your ministrations, you slip your hand beneath the elastic waistband of the grey sweats. Frankie has no underwear on, a pleasant surprise.

“Fuck,” he groans, nosing at your neck.

“What’s wrong, honey bun? Doesn’t that feel good?” you ask, slowly pulling your hand away.

“Yes, please. Do it again?” His voice strains deliciously, the muscles in his arms held taut.

Frankie relaxes only slightly when you return your palm to where he’s hot and achy, cock wet at the tip. You run your thumb along the head of his dick as he pushes his hips up into your touch. You slide the pad of your finger along his shaft, spreading the dampness.

“Aw baby, you’re already a little wet. Isn’t that sweet?”

You start to stroke him in earnest, the tight circle of your hand moving up and down his cock. The movement is a little dry, your skin dragging against the sensitive velvet of him. You push his shirt up his belly, pulling his pants to his knees easily. Then you spit into your palm, jerking him off easier this time.

“Fuck baby. Just like that,” Frankie pants. He’s moving his hips with your hand now, fucking up into it on every down stroke. With your free hand, you prod at the small dip at his hip, feeling the muscle tense beneath the skin.

“Bet you feel so good, baby. Nice and easy for me,” you coo.

“Don’t stop,” he whispers.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, honey.”

You twist your hand at the end of every movement upwards, fingers rubbing over Frankie’s tip as he leaks steadily onto himself. The glide is easy now, lubed with your saliva and his precum. The squelch makes your mouth water as you watch his cock disappear and reappear in the shadow of your fingers.

He puts one of his hands over yours, urging you to go faster. Your hands move together over Frankie’s dick, picking up the pace as the sticky noise turns into a slap with every thrust of his hips.

Frankie breaks pace, stuttering on a caught breath before he spills over your hand and onto his belly. You pause to watch his chest tense and then loosen, his eyes shut tight as he comes down. Raising your hand to your lips, you lick a bit of his cum from the edge of your fingers. It’s the first thing Frankie sees when he opens his eyes again, making him groan. The noise sounds almost painful.

“That was—”

“Amazing?” you supply.

Frankie wheezes a laugh. “Something like that.”

“What about a second helping?”

He furrows his brow, then looks down at his dick. It lays limp and spent on his stomach. “I don’t—”

“Please,” you implore oh-so-sweetly. Frankie sees big eyes batting at him, a twinkle of adoration. The intent behind it is a little more Kubrick, but he doesn’t know that yet.

He can’t say no to you, doesn’t want to anyway. Frankie nods, mumbling a yes at you. His cock twitches with interest when you drag a finger through the pool of cum on his belly and pop it in your mouth. You smile at Frankie as you take him in your hand, strokes slow as he hardens again.

Leaning into his body, you flick your tongue against the shell of his ear. “So, so wet honey. This all for me?”

“Yeah, shit—I can’t,” he mumbles.

“But it feels so good,” you say. “Wish you could see your cute little face. I love seeing you like this.”

Frankie’s face waivers between tightly wound and relaxed in pleasure. You’re using his own cum as lube now, hand practically sloshing across his cock. He tries to keep his eyes open, watching your movements as you sit patiently in his lap, jerking him off.

Your underwear is ruined, the cotton soaked through as you discreetly rock yourself against the rough seam of your pants. You’ll take care of yourself later. Right now, all of your attention is on Frankie. This reward is his punishment. It’s the slightest bit petty, but you can’t let his stubborn behaviour go quite yet. You aren’t an I told you so type of person, but this? This is perfect.

You stroke at him on autopilot, watching the middle distance between the fine thatch of hair at Frankie’s pelvis and his skin coated milky white. He comes with a flinch before you even realize, still moving as he hisses. He’s still hard when he’s done, solid under your touch, so you continue.

“You’re doing so good for me,” you say softly.

“Oh god,” he whines, eyes rolling back.

“Does it hurt baby?”

Frankie doesn’t speak, can’t, nodding frantically up at you.

“You want me to stop? All you have to do is tell me.”

He doesn’t—not with words or the shake of his head. He likes this, and both of you know it. Frankie gets off on the pain, a pleasure so hot that it burns; water blazing to the point that the sensation runs cold, delicate skin held close over a candle flame.

Frankie starts to squirm. You hold him down by the shoulder with your free hand, fingers spread over his overheated skin with a firm press. His whole body is sweaty, soaking a runway down the front top half of his t-shirt.

“Please, please, please.”

He breathes your name, barely getting the syllables past his lips. You never find out what he’s begging for. He probably doesn’t quite know either.

His dick and his mind can’t seem to agree on what they want. You watch this war play out, a losing battle. Every few seconds he presses his hips to the couch, trying to stay out of your reach. Then he slots his hips forward again, seeking out your hand directly.

Finally, Frankie seems to find his words. “Fuck, please. I can’t, I can’t. I’ve got no more, baby, please.”

“One more, honey. You can do that, can’t you? Just one.”

“Mm, shit. It’s—it hurts. It hurts,” he says.

“I know, baby. You’re so sweet for me, so good. I know you can do it,” you assure him.

Leaning down, you position your mouth over him. You let the spit sitting in your mouth pour past your lips, drooling onto his throbbing cock. The saliva slides down his length slowly as Frankie moans at the sensation.

The added slick makes everything wetter, truly soaking as you jerk him off faster. Frankie starts to babble nonsense between short, tripping moans. A split-second decision, you breathe hot air over the head of his dick. The slightest change in contact pulls his third orgasm of the night from him. Frankie cries, groaning loud as fat, wet tears roll down his cheeks. You hunch over him to give his face a kitten lick, collecting them with your tongue.

You let him go when he finishes coming, letting his dick flop against the plush of his tummy. Dragging your own shirt off the floor, you wipe at his skin and clean up your hands before tossing it back down.

Frankie finds the strength to tuck himself back into his sweatpants. He pulls at your elbow, sending you crashing gently into his side on the couch. It isn’t really big enough for the both of you to lay down. You squish yourself against his chest and shoulder, feeling his arm rest over the length of your back.

“How was that?” you ask after a while.

“A five course meal and then some,” he says. Frankie scoffs at himself, like he can’t believe what just happened. “Jesus Christ.”

You kiss his chest through his shirt, his body warm and solid against your cheek. “Nope, just me.”

[jackassbrainrot]

drive [dunn x reader]

desc: dunn and his highschool crush are oblivious idiots in love and finally get together

a/n: written for @stevensa565, hope you like it!! I loooove writing for Dunn so the next one is probably also going to be a Dunn fic (probs smut tho)!

warnings: none, just tooth rotting fluff

Sitting in front of a cafe, you slowly sip at your morning coffee. An engine rev and a familiar voice yells out your name. You look up to see smiling eyes gazing playfully at you under golden strands.

"Wanna go for a ride?"

Even though you hadn't seen him in ages, you quickly fall back into your old routine: him maneuvering himself into the passenger seat, letting you jump into his former spot and drive wherever you feel like.

"How have you been, hotshot?" You tease, resting your hand on the gearshift comfortably. His laugh makes your heart skip a beat. Your conversation flows so naturally it's almost surreal, and you feel alive for the first time in a while.

You feel like not a day has passed since you last saw him, driving around West Chester like you are now, just a bit younger. You'd missed him, more than you'd care to admit.

"You free tonight?" He asks and you can hear the hope in his voice, making it impossible for you not to say yes. He beams before asking you to go back to his place. The drive to his house comes to you like second nature, it's a path you've taken so many times you've lost count.

You park the car in the driveway, he gets out first and opens the door for you with an overdramatic bow. You roll your eyes, chuckling at his antics as he unlocks the front door, letting you into the place you've spent countless sleepless nights in.

You fall onto the couch, your back against the worn armrest, legs sprawled. He moves your legs so he can sit down, putting them back down over his lap as he lights the cigarette hanging from his mouth. His hand falls onto your thigh as he inhales.

"I've missed you, you know?" He asks, smoke spilling from his lips, voice low and dripping with fondness. "I think about you all the time when I'm out filming in LA and-" He stops for a second, taking another drag before continuing. "Christ, I hate this sappy shit."

You chuckle at his comment, sitting up so your body is closer to his, "What, you tryna ask me out, Dunn?" You tease, poking his cheek playfully. It's something you've wanted since you first met him.

"Yeah, I guess that's what I'm doing" He says softly, not being able to meet your gaze. You freeze, half expecting Bam to jump out with a camera, laughing his ass off at your blushing face. "Ry, are you serious?" Your voice shakes slightly. You really hope he is.

He finally looks at you and you've never seen him look so unsure of himself. "I know we haven't talked much lately and we haven't been seein' each other much either but I've liked you for years and I don't want this to change thing between us if you're not-"

You cut off his rambling by grabbing his face and pulling him in, kissing his lips gently. His hands wrap around your waist as you start to pull away, pulling you closer and deepening the kiss. You stay like that for a while, mouths moving slowly against each other before finally pulling back for air.

"So, I'll take that as a yes?"

You giggle, connecting your lips again.

[writeshite]

can u write a homelander x male reader, I'd prefer fluff but I dont really care. (Noone writes x male readers😭)

John wakes up to a second heartbeat. His soulmate’s guide is six years overdue, and the cuddliest, friendliest dog he’s ever met, a dark brownish-red golden retriever - John calls him Scout. Dr. Vogelbaum is surprised - firstly, that the universe gave John a soulmate, and secondly, that a dog managed to trot its way into a secure location with little effort - it takes three dead scientists before they realize Scout is here to stay. Vought hates Scout until he can make a profit. Some mediocre photographer snaps a photo of John carrying Scout after he’d run through the mud; it’s on the internet in under an hour and the highest trending photo in the United States by dinnertime.

‘Everything you need to know about Homelander’s soulmate.’

‘13 facts about golden retriever guides, and what that can tell you about Homelander’s soulmate.’

‘How to get guides to choose you.’

The internet dissolves into a mess overnight, and the subject of John’s soulmate is trending globally; the week before Valentine’s Day is his soulmate tour, thousands of people come along, and Scout becomes the face of the ideal guide. John feels so many things - proud when the world praises his guide, confused as Scout’s friendly demeanor makes it harder to find his soulmate, and downright murderous when a fan tries to drag Scout to her and get him to like her - Sitwell tries something similar to the latter, reaching out once to pet the dog, before getting her arm bitten. John laughs, his tone cold as Scout darts behind his legs. When the Seven is formed, the others are a mixed bag; John doesn’t care enough to pay them attention, and they do the opposite, openly gawking at Scout, eyes widening further when Scout outwardly prefers his company; they want to ask, but clam up when he glares at them, hesitant to touch the guide. 

“Can’t you take me to my soulmate, already?” he asks Scout one morning; the dog tilts his head, tongue hanging out, and John swears he nods his head in response. Scout grabs his glove, and darts off with it, dodging John as he attempts to grab him; John is just about ready to throw caution to the wind when Scout stops; John doesn’t, flying directly into a tree. He’s not knocked out, but it takes a moment for the ringing to stop; when his eyes open again, you’re standing over him.

“Oh my god, Homelander, sir, are you alright?” 

John never quite understood how people could just know their soulmate by sight, even with their guides, he just never understood how people were 100% certain, but now looking at you, it’s like his whole mind just screams ‘yes.’ You hold out your hand for him to take, helping him stand, even with the gloves; your touch just feels right; Scout is the happiest John has ever seen him, tail wagging fast, “Oh, hello again,” you say to him, scratching Scout just behind the ears, you turn to John with a fond teasing smile, and he knows he’s already gone. “So, I guess this means the cat’s all you?” The cat is an orange ragdoll that, according to you, has scratched, bitten, hissed, and attacked anyone who came too close to you for her liking; John’s proud to hear that you named her Mochi, and he’s less proud of that, “Mean cats need cute names,” you simply state.

“What, you’re gonna give me a cute name too, then,” he snickers.

“I don’t see why not,” you eye him for a second, pursing your lips as you think of a name, “Snookums.” His face scrunches in horror, and you laugh, “Ok, ok, that was bad. Honeybun? Pudding? Pumpkin?” You rotate through so many names, each one as sappy as the last one, John’s expressions fueling your laughter further - there’s the distinct sound of a camera shutter, but John ignores it - placing a hand over your mouth as you dissolve into giddy hysterics. “Alright, point taken,” you say, and John is acutely aware of how close he’s pulled you to him. “How about your name then? I can’t just call you Homelander forever.”

“John,” he says.

“John. Johnathan,” You try the words on your tongue, “Jonnie, Johnny Boy.” You shake your head, “Yeah, I’ll stick with John.” You smile, giving John your name, “Nice to meet you, John.”

[agoddamnbeautifulidiot]

Flicker of Hope

Epilogue Two: Madison Square Garden – Night Two

A/N:

Here is it. The final part of FOH…well unless I eventually feel like writing anything else lol. Who knows what else @harrywavycurly or anyone else might inspire from me for these two.

Note that I do play around with the timeline of Niall and Hailee’s relationship to benefit this story. Here, they only see each other from January 2018 to sometime in July 2018.

Also, we’re circling back around to death in this and there will be discussion of depression, slight unintentional ED, so bear that in mind.

Big, HUGE thanks to everyone who has read this series and spent years asking me when there would be more. You’re the real ones.

And big thanks to Niall for just being Niall. Wouldn’t have been able to write this without his beautiful music.

Alright, enough sappiness from me, here’s some more from our favorite couple. And maybe some spice. You never know with me.

-----------

You’re just coming out of the bathroom when Niall’s alarm goes off. He groans loudly and you giggle as you watch him roll over to smack his phone. The sheets are tangled in his legs and pulled taut around his hips. Flopped on his stomach, he shoves his arms under a pillow and smashes it against his face.

Smiling, you walk over to the bed, climbing on it by his feet. Crawling over him, you settle over his covered thighs and sit down. Niall grunts, turning his head just slightly. One blue eye peeks back at you and you laugh, leaning forward to press a kiss to his bare shoulder.

He hums. “Good mornin’.” His voice is rough from sleep and singing last night.

“Morning,” you say. You sit back, bouncing slightly on the tops of his thighs, making him grunt again. Grinning, you bounce one more time before climbing to the side and off of him. You move to crawl off the bed, but Niall’s hand grips the end of your robe and pulls until you fall into his side. You're laughing as you roll over and snuggle into him. “Something you wanted, my dear?” He opens his eye again, looking disgruntled with his hair tousled. His arm wraps around you, smashing your face into the pillow, making you laugh again. You run your hand over his back, scratching lightly.

Niall finally rolls more fully towards you, both eyes open. He yawns, jaw clicking with the force of it before he leans forward and nuzzles his nose against yours. You offer him a closed mouth kiss and your hand moves into his hair, attempting to smooth out the chaotic strands. “You showered.” He says, rubbing his nose on your cheek.

“I did.”

“I wanted ta shower wit ya.” He pouts and it’s ridiculous how adorable you find this man.

Massaging his scalp, you offer him another kiss. “I’m sorry, honey. I had a call this morning so I got up early to do that and then figured I’d go ahead and shower. I will remind you though, we did shower together last night.”

He just stares at you, continuing to look so adorably and sleepily disgruntled. “Is dere a rule against showerin’ together two times in a row dat I don’ know about?”

“No, you dork,” He grins when you roll your eyes. Ignoring his face, you pull away, finally managing to crawl back off the bed as he reaches for you. “I was gonna order some breakfast. You want anything?”

Niall adjusts, sitting up against the pillows, still grinning at you. Most of the covers are bunched up at the end of the bed, so he fixes the sheet until it’s mostly covering his legs. “Guess I’m lucky me alarm went off. Knowing you, you would’ve had a whole feast without me.”

“Oh my god, you’re so dramatic.” You start going through your suitcase, trying to pull a suitable option for the start of the day. “I was coming to wake you up anyways.”

“Cause you're hungry.”

“Cause I’m starving, Niall.” He laughs when you whine, pulling a sad face at him. “I’ve been up for hours and all I’ve had was a pack of airline nuts that I literally have no idea when they’re from and some really bad tea from the coffee bar.”

“Where did you find peanuts?”

You throw your robe onto the chair and pull on some shorts and a shirt. “They were in one of the side pockets on your suitcase.” When you look up at Niall, his eyebrows are raised. “What? I told you I was hungry.”

He shakes his head, tossing the sheet off his legs to get out of the bed. “Those could literally be years old, babe. Can’t remember da last time I got nuts on an airplane.” Brow furrowed, you just stare at him for a moment. He huffs out a laugh and leans over to kiss you on the forehead as he walks by. “‘M gonna jump in the shower. Order me like a full spread and some coffee, please.”

You stand there for a full minute, just thinking about those peanuts. “Gross.”

——————

It’s not the most comfortable, but you’ve somehow managed to sprawl across several floor seats as you listen to sound check. The seats are hard and there are several legs digging into your side and thigh, but you’re content to just lay there and listen to Niall and the band play.

Eyes closed, you hum along as the opening bars of “Mirrors” starts. You remember the videos you were tagged in over and over all those years ago when you’d have to leave Niall behind in Tokyo to deal with the loss of your dad. Thinking back now, it had felt like you were leaving half your soul behind. Because honestly, you had.

Other than all the nonsense with Robbie and the subsequent falling out the two of you had had, the lingering effects of your dad’s death had been the most difficult part of your relationship. Not because any part of it had come between you, but all of it had put you under so much stress and Niall had felt absolutely helpless.

The worst part of all of it had been what happened with your sister Charlie. Despite the fact that it had been what had finally reconnected you and Niall.

Your eyes are starting to blur from how long you’ve been staring at your computer screen. It’s almost dark in your apartment, which should tell you to get up, turn on a light and find something to have for dinner. But this is easier. Sitting on your couch, working. The same thing you’ve been doing for months.

It had been months since you’d spoken to Niall. Since the end of January really. Back when Tara had let it slip that the rumors about him and Hailee were true. You just couldn’t bear to reach out to him. Not that he was reaching out to you. Your text conversation had been relegated to the bottom of your messages app, something that cut at you any time you thought about it.

Your eyes flicker down to the date on your screen. 8/19/2018. Red Rocks. Niall, someone who you once called your best friend, was playing Red Rocks tomorrow and you weren’t going to be there. Groaning, you rub your hands over your face, finally leaning over to flick on the lamp on the side table. Setting your laptop to the side, you stand up and stretch, rolling your shoulders. You head into the kitchen, wondering if there’s any actual food to find.

“Pathetic,” you mutter, opening doors to barren cabinets. “You have no food, your whole body hurts and you’re thinking about a guy who probably isn’t sparing you a single thought as he has the best time of his life. Utterly pathetic.” You pull out your phone and see what you can get delivered. It’s later than you thought, but thankfully there are still a few things open in London.

Food ordered, you head back into the living room, walking around the room a few times to avoid sitting back in your chair. You’re dazedly staring out the gap in your curtains when your phone rings loudly in the silence.

“Hey, Josh,” you greet your brother in law.

Josh sighs, “Hey, kid.” He sounds tired and your brow furrows.

“Is everything ok?”

He chuckles at that, but they’re sad sounds, almost like he’s holding in tears. “No, no, everything is not ok.”

You can’t help it, you practically drop down into your chair, stomach sinking with dread. “What’s going on?”

“She did it, Y/N,” He says. “Charlie filed for divorce.”

It’s like the world stops spinning around you for a second and when it starts up again, you’re dizzy. “What the fuck? What are you talking about?”

Josh laughs again, and this time the sound is truly wet with tears. “She came home today and told me. And then she packed all of her stuff and moved out.”

“Josh.” It’s all you can say for a minute. Your brain tries to catch up with what he’s saying. “But, she…she’s been going to therapy. You’ve been going to therapy. I thought everything was getting better?”

“Yeah, I did too.” He scoffs. “I don’t know what happened. Yesterday, everything seemed ok and then today…” Be trails off and you can’t do anything but stare sadly at your worn out bunny slippers. “There’s more.”

You take in a deep breath, trying to hold in your panicked laughter. “What more could there possibly be?”

“Well, we were waiting to tell everyone, but at this point, we need to.” Josh pauses again and you can hear him breathing deeply over the line. “She’s pregnant.”

Gasping, you stand up, pacing around your coffee table. “Pregnant?! What the fuck? What…and she…Josh…” You don’t even know what to say. Everything he’s telling you is making you feel like you’re in an alternate reality.

“Yeah, and I tried to bring that up, you know? Like how are we getting divorced when we’ve got a kid on the way? But she, she doesn’t want to be with me anymore, Y/N.” His voice breaks and you feel tears coming on. “And I’m not going to make all of us miserable if we’d be happier apart.”

“What are you guys going to do?”

Josh sighs. “We’re going to figure it out. We’re having a kid and getting divorced. It’s not going to be easy, but we’re going to get through it.”

You try to think happy thoughts for him, even though you know all of this is killing him. “You’re going to be the best dad, Josh.”

That makes him chuckle, and it’s still wet with tears but you know he’s smiling. “Thanks, kid. You’re going to be the best aunt.”

The two of you talk for a few more minutes until your door buzzer goes off, signaling the arrival of your dinner. You grab your food, placing the bag on the coffee table and sitting back in your chair.

Staring at the bag, you can’t seem to force yourself to open it. Your stomach growls loudly, but you don’t even hear or feel it. Josh and Charlie breaking up and having a baby? How do you reconcile that? After everything else that’s happened this year?

Your phone lights up and you grab it to check it. It’s the notification from Niall posting on instagram and there’s something about this moment that feels like a sign. Opening up your messenger app, you scroll down and hesitate over his name for just a second before clicking the chat open and beginning to type.

Something nudged your foot and you frown, readjusting. The band has stopped playing, but you can hear them messing around from where you’re laying. You feel a shove on your foot again and you open your eyes, gasping and sitting up.

“Oh my god!” You squeal and throw yourself into your brother’s arms. “Arthur! Mom! Nate!” You hug each of them in turn. “Josh!” He hugs you tight and you both laugh when little hands try to tug you apart. Looking down, you laugh at the face your niece is making. “And is that my Lucy Goosey?” She smiles and preens, dancing in place the way only a five year old can. You lean down and scoop her up, propping her on your hip.

Lucy looks around, eyes big as she takes everything in. “Look!” She points at the stage and you nod.

“Yeah! That’s the stage.” You can see the band starting to wind down and Niall has his back to all of you as he talks with several people. “Do you know who that is?” You point at his back, giving her a chance to squint her eyes and shake her head. Leaning in, you whisper in her ear. “That’s Uncle Ni-Ni.”

Her eyes light up and she gasps and shouts. “Uncle Ni-Ni!”

On the stage, he turns and pretends to search the arena before he finds her and he jumps up and down a few times. “Luce!!” He shouts and comes running down the stage. Lucy giggles and bounces on your hip as he gets closer. “Well if it isn’t my best gal Lucy.” Niall shoots you a wink as he reaches the end of the catwalk. “Hello everyone!” He greets your family and they all respond.

Lucy continues to bounce, reaching for him on the stage. You meet his eyes and he nods as he leans down, so you walk over to the barrier and hand her to him. Once he’s got her on stage, he starts walking around, telling her all about the arena and what the show is going to be like.

“It’s just so amazing he’s playing here.” Arthur says, looking around the giant room. Him, Nate and Josh start talking about how many people can fit inside the room, looking thoughtful in a way only guys can about something you could easily google.

Your mom rolls her eyes at them, coming to put her arm around you as you watch Niall. “How you been, honey?” She asks.

Laughing, you wrap your arm around her. “Mom, we spoke two days ago. Not much has changed.” She just shrugs and smiles at you.

“Yeah but now you’re in New York and your boyfriend is playing this big arena. It’s so exciting, I just thought I’d check in.”

You eye her curiously for a moment, but she just continues to smile, turning her glance to Niall and Lucy. Glancing back and your brother and step dad, you lean into her, whispering, “Charlie didn’t want to come?”

Her smile goes a little thin as she meets your eyes and simply shakes her head. Nodding, you take a deep breath and count to five, eyes focused on the edge of the stage. Your mom tightens her arm around you. “Charlie,” she sighs. “Well, she’s still figuring it out, sweetheart. I told her it wasn’t fair to you, this silent treatment, but she’s as stubborn as they come.”

You focus back on Niall, who’s listening to Lucy babble in his ear, but is watching you intently. You paste on a smile, because all of this is for him. Niall is what matters right now. “At least she let Lucy come.”

“Oh, wild horses couldn’t have kept Lucy Goosey from her favorite Aunt and her Uncle Ni-Ni.” You laugh at that and notice the tension ease just slightly out of Niall’s body. “Now, how about we all get some lunch?”

————————

After lunch, you and Niall head back to your hotel to change and have a little bit of time to yourselves before the show.

Niall lays down on the couch immediately, shoving his hat off and just closing his eyes. You plop down in the chair, pulling off your sneakers and socks. Brow furrowed, you stare at the blank tv screen.

“Can hear ya tinkin’, love,” Niall mumbles, eyes still closed.

You’d roll your eyes if it wasn’t so endearing how well he knew you. “It’s nothing.” You murmur. Lifting his head up, Niall opens both eyes to look at you. You stare at each other for a minute and your leg starts to bounce. He refuses to relent, only lifting a brow at you. You do actually roll your eyes this time, slumping further down into the chair. “I’m just thinking about my family.”

He nods, relaxing back into the couch, still watching you. “It’s nice they’re here.”

“It is. I’m really happy they came. I just wish…”

“You just wish Charlie were here?” He guesses.

Nodding meekly, you play with the frayed edges of your shirt. “Or that she’d talk to me, you know?”

With a deep sigh, Niall pulls himself off the couch and leans on the arm of the chair, his hand rubbing soothingly on the back of your neck. “I know, love. But Charlie is gonna do her own ting and it’s honestly better that she isn’t here if she’s not ready.”

“Yeah,” You sigh, leaning your head on his hip. “It just sucks.”

“It does.” He agrees.

The two of you sit there quietly for a few more minutes. Finally, you lean back and look up at him, your hand gripping his calf. “You should go take a nap. Recharge your batteries for tonight. Can’t have a tired pop star on stage.”

He smiles at you, eyes crinkling in the way that makes your heart hurt. “You wanna nap wit me?”

“I think I’m gonna go for a walk. Grab some more coffee. I can bring you back something if you want?”

Eyeing you for a moment, he nods and leans down to kiss your forehead. “Just do me a favor, take someone wit ya, ok?” When he pulls back, his eyes are mischievous.

You chuckle, pulling away to stand up so you can step between his legs and wrap your arms around his neck. “I got lost one time, Niall James. One time!”

“One time too many for me.” He responds, hands on your back as he pulls you closer for a thorough kiss.

——————

Your walk turns into just going down to the hotel cafe. You order an iced coffee and find a cozy space to sit and just watch the city moving outside the windows. It’s probably dangerous for you to be so alone with your thoughts, but you’d rather be here than feeling like you’re bringing Niall down with your mood.

As the city bustles by, you think about the last time you and Charlie had really talked.

“Ok, but you have to give us some space here, Horan.” You say, hands on your hips in Niall’s closet. “I’m going to be here for the whole summer, I want to put my clothes away.”

Niall stands in front of a set of drawers, arms crossed. “Ya have some space babe. I gave you a whole section right dere.” He points and you scoff.

“Niall, I have three suitcases of stuff. That five inches of space is not going to be enough.”

He rolls his eyes and glares at the bags in question like they’ve offended him. “Don’t know why you brought so much stuff. Not gonna be wearing a lot this summer if I have anyting ya say about it.”

“Oh my god!” You laugh, annoyed at the smirk on his face. “Niall James, just make some more room or I’ll do it myself and I won’t be neat about it.” The two of you stare at each other for a minute before he rolls his eyes and relents.

“Fine. I’ll take some of this stuff down to a guest room for now. Still tink you brought too much.” He grabs another small section, huffing and grabbing a bit more at your pointed look before he sticks out his tongue at you and leaves the room.

Feeling triumphant, you start going through your clothes, hanging some items and folding others for the drawer he so graciously cleared out.

“What is he gonna do if we ever move in together?” You mutter to yourself. Your head whips up, just to confirm he hasn’t heard you before you continue. You and Niall had been official for almost five months, so you weren’t out here trying to put any pressure on.

You’ve just unzipped your second case when your phone rings and you grab it, answering without checking the ID and putting it on speaker. “Hello?”

“Hey sis.”

Charlie’s voice stops you cold. The two of you have had very little interaction since she’d decided to divorce Josh. Mostly on Charlie’s side as you’d done quite a bit of reaching out. From what your mom had told you, your sister was convinced pretty much everyone had taken Josh’s side in everything and there was no point in talking further on it. As if that would be the only reason you wanted to talk to her. You quickly check the date, noting you’ve still got a week before her projected due date.

“Hey,” you say, trying not to sound hesitant. “How are you?”

Charlie sighs. “Very pregnant.” You both chuckle softly at that and you’re happy you can still have a moment like that with her.

“I bet. How is my little niece to be?” You ask, quietly going back to unpacking.

“You’re so convinced it’s gonna be a girl?” She asks.

You shrug and then remember she can’t see you. “I don’t know why. I just feel like you’re baking a girl in there.” Charlie laughs a bit at that. “Niall’s convinced it’s a boy, though I’m not sure why, he just says it’s his intuition, although I’m not sure where he thinks he gets this intuition from.” Charlie doesn’t respond and you check the phone to make sure she’s still there. “Char?”

“So,” she says haughtily. “The Niall thing is still happening huh?”

It’s a good thing she can’t see you with the incredulous look you give the phone. “The Niall thing? What does that even mean?”

She groans in annoyance. “You’re still like trying to make it with him or whatever?”

“I mean I’m in a relationship with him, so I guess you can say it like that if you want.”

“Ok,” Charlie scoffs and you know your face shows your annoyance. “But how long do you really think your ‘relationship’ is actually going to last, huh?” The way she says it makes you feel gross, like this thing that is exponentially important to you is just some piece of garbage she found on the side of the road.

Several hangers click together loudly when you shove a dress on the rack. “What the fuck does that mean, Charlie? Are you like rooting for my relationship to fail?”

“I am just being realistic here, sis,” she counters and it’s your turn to scoff. “You’ve been friends how long and it took all this drama and nonsense for him to come to his senses? Be for real.”

“And you know what about my relationship, Charlie? When is the last time you actually asked me something about myself or how I’m doing?” You’re mad now, practically flinging clothes into your drawer.

“I’d say I know more than you considering I’ve been married and it didn’t take a stupid scandal and another woman for Josh to see he wanted me.”

Everything stops and you just stand there for a minute, breathing deep with your back to the phone. “An expert on marriage but you’re getting divorced?” Your tone is biting and you mean it to be. The two of you have always fought fire with fire.

She’s breathing heavily over the phone now and a small part of you worries about her stress, but you refuse to be bulldozed by her. “You don’t know shit about my life and my situation, Y/N. But have fun with your little pop star fling and when he finally decides he’s really done with you, don’t come crawling to me for sympathy.”

You don’t need to check the phone to know she’s ended the call. You stay there, staring into a messy drawer full of items you’re going to have to refold and taking deep breaths. How does every conversation with your sister go so left so quickly these days?

“Well, I see what Josh was talkin’ ‘bout,” Niall’s voice startles you and you whip around to find him leaning against the doorway, arms crossed and an annoyed look on his face.

Your hand comes up to your chest, heart racing. “God, Niall, announce yourself or something. I’m gonna have to get you a freaking bell this summer.”

He just shrugs and gives you a tight lipped smile. “Sorry, darlin’.”

Going back to the drawer, you glare at the mess you made. Suddenly, you turn and look at him. “Wait, what did you mean ‘what Josh was talking about’? When did you talk to Josh?”

“Yesterday.”

He ignores your questioning stare and you huff in annoyance turning back to your drawer. “Since when are you and Josh all buddy-buddy? What do the two of you even have to talk about?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” His reply is just sarcastic enough that it pushes you closer to the edge you know you're teetering towards. “There’s dis one person we both love dat I’m pretty sure we could bond over. I’ve also known Josh almost as long as ‘ve known you, if ya care to remember dat.”

You press your fingers over your eyes, mentally willing this petty argument away, but knowing you’re too wound up to stop. “Fine, whatever. So you and Josh talk about me and talk about Charlie and do what? Compare and contrast?”

Niall’s face twists in confusion. “What?”

“You know, comparing experiences, trying to figure out if I’m going to turn out like her.”

“Dat is not what’s happenin’.”

You’re ignoring him at this point. “If you’re that worried about it—“

He groans. “What are ya on about?”

“I can just go.” You say, fully turning back to face him. Niall looks…dumbfounded. But this, this is what’s been eating at you and Charlie’s phone call has just finally caused the word vomit. You’re shaking, desperately trying to hold everything else in, every bad thought you’ve had, all the tears you want to cry, as he just stares at you.

Finally, he takes a deep breath and steps towards you. One hand reaches out to you and you jerk slightly as he grips your hand and pulls you towards him. His other hand cups your neck, fingers brushing softly into your hair. With a shaky sigh, you lean forward and bury your face in his neck, circling your arms around him, gripping tightly. His other hand rubs the small of your back and you both relax into each other.

“I’m sorry. Fuck, I’m so sorry Niall.” You mutter into his neck, eyes squeezed tightly shut.

“I know, love. It’s alright. Gonna take some gettin’ used to, all of dis. Everyting with Charlie and Josh and being an us, ya know?” His breath ruffles your hair. “We’re not gonna do dis though. No more fightin’. Not over shit like dis. We’ll talk to each other. And, hey, look at me,” he pulls back just enough, meeting your eyes, hands on either side of your face. “You’re not goin’ anywhere. I want ya here.” You nod. “And you’ll talk to your therapist ‘bout dis, yeah?”

You giggle a bit, sniffling. “Yeah, I promise.”

Niall nods and leans forwards, lips meeting yours sweet and slow. He pulls back slightly and presses a few wet kisses into your cheek and neck before huffing. “Now, you’ve made a right proper mess of dis drawer, so let’s get dat taken care of.” His words have the desired effect and you laugh against his shoulder.

The vibration of your phone brings you back to the present and you’re shocked that you’ve been sitting in the cafe for almost two hours. Checking your notifications, you notice a few texts from Niall.

Opening them, you chuckle at the ridiculously rumpled, grumpy faced bed head selfie he’s sent you and read his message:

Pre show nap: 🤘

Waking up with no girlfriend to

cuddle: 😣

Well it’s a good thing your girlfriend

is about to be on her way upstairs to

remedy that for you

You want me to bring you a tea or

anything?

No thank you love, I’ll get one

when we leave for the show. All

I want right now is you in my

bed

Aye, aye captain

Oh babe, you know what that kind

of talk does to me 😉

💋

Niall looks up from the bed when you come through the main door, back against the headboard with his shirt off and the covers bunched at his waist. He smiles. “Der she is.”

“I am at your service, my good sir.” You say, dropping your stuff on the side table and sitting on the bed.

“Ooh, first I was captain, now I’m sir?” Niall jokes, tugging on your arm until you're straddling him. “Damn I’m a lucky guy.”

You laugh, burying your hands in his hair and mussing it further. “You really are, Horan.” He just smiles up at you, hands stroking your thighs. “We need to pack, don't we?” Niall grimaces and nods at you. With a groan, you pull away, struggling slightly as Niall tries to keep you on top of him.

“I wanted cuddles!” He whines, arms circling you, holding you tight while his head rests on your chest.

“I promise you can have all the cuddles you wanted after the show, on the bus.” Grabbing his head, you attempt to pull him up, yelping when he refuses to be moved and his teeth nip at the skin of your chest. The two of you wrestle with each other for a few moments and you’re both laughing when you finally manage to roll to the end of the bed. “Come on babe. Let’s get this done so you can go be a big superstar and play yet another sold out show at Madison Square Garden.” He continues to pout at you, and you check the time on your phone with an eye roll. “Alright,” you climb back over him. “Thirty more minutes and then we have to get up, Niall James.”

Smiling widely at you, he nods and his arms wind around you again. “Dat’s plenty of time, darlin’.” And then you’re squealing as he lifts you, shoving you back on the bed so he can crawl over you, his mouth meeting yours.

——————

There haven’t been a lot of times that you’ve been in the audience for one of Niall’s shows. Your preference has always been being backstage, but with your family here, you end up in the suite that had been set aside. It’s a good time, hanging out with Niall’s family and friends and watching them interact with yours.

Nate, Josh and Mully seem to be talking about golf and Arthur is bonding with Deo of all people which would make you nervous if your brother wasn’t so very level headed.

Your mom and Lucy are up towards the front of the suite, dancing to the music playing as the arena waits for Niall to take the stage. Checking your phone, you note that he should be coming out within the next ten minutes and you feel a little antsy not getting to be back there with him as he goes on.

Mully must sense your weirdness because he comes over, throwing his arm around your shoulders. “Ya alright love?” He asks, smiling at you.

“I am.” You say, smiling at him.

“Bet ya wish you were back der with him, huh? Instead of out here with us lot.” That makes you laugh and Mully squeezes you with a smile on his face.

“Not gonna lie,” you reply. “I do like being back there with him. But this view isn’t so bad.”

He takes a few sips of his beer, gazing out at the arena. “Yeah it really isn’t so bad, huh?” The both of you grin, sharing a moment of pride for Niall before Mully does what he does best. “But you’ll be glad once lover boy is out here, shakin’ it for ya.”

He laughs and almost spills some of his beer when you shove at it. “God, fuck off Mully.” You’re laughing and several other people in the suite are joining in, knowing whatever Mully did, he more than likely deserved your annoyance.

Finally, “The Chain” starts playing, MSG erupting in cheers as the fans know what that means. You join your mom and Lucy up towards the front and you just have to pull out your phone to film the crowd singing along as they get ready for Niall to come out.

As always, once the lights go out, it’s deafening. With a glance at Lucy, you double check that her protective headphones are in place as the opening of The Show: Live on Tour starts projecting across the curtain.

Niall is a dream on stage. The outfit choice alone is enough to get you a little worked up.

“Oh my god.”

Niall looks up, glancing at you in the mirror of his dressing room. “What’s up babe?”

You just stare at his back for a minute. “Niall…”

He turns to look at you. “What?”

“You look like a 90s heartthrob, what the fuck?”

His smirk grows and he crosses his arms over his chest and your eyes move over his arms. “Oh yeah? Am I gettin’ ya worked up over der?”

Leaning your head back, you close your eyes. “I hate you.” Niall laughs loudly.

It’s clear Niall is in a good mood again tonight. He’s a little less talkative and definitely a little less emotional than the night before. Even from up in the suite, you catch him throwing waves and winks in your direction and you know several are meant for Lucy, who waves enthusiastically back every time.

The band starts setting up for the acoustic set and Niall spends a minute talking to the crowd before they start to play. You typically know what the setlist is going to look like before the show, so you are absolutely floored when he starts playing “Paper Houses”. It’s your absolute favorite song, something he knows, and suddenly you’re just mouthing the words as you start to cry.

They’re happy tears. Grateful for how far the two of you have come. Proud of him for how far he’s come. You’re so in love with this man, it almost hurts. He’s sitting down, playing the guitar and he glances in the direction of your suite. Logically, you know there’s no way he can actually see you, but you don’t care. You blow him a kiss and lay your hand on your heart, hopeful that he just knows.

—————

It’s almost weird being back on the bus, despite the fact that you’d only spent two nights in the hotel in New York.

After the show had ended, you and your family had gone backstage and spent some time with Niall and the band. It had been a big group, family and friends for everyone just celebrating. In truth, all you’d wanted to do was get your boyfriend alone.

Finally, everyone had started to shuffle out and the band had started to make their way out to the buses. You and Niall had loaded onto yours, making your excuses about wanting to be alone, heading to the bedroom in the back. You and Niall had taken a shower together, mostly just to be close as the tour bus showers weren’t really big enough for anything too exciting.

Afterwards, you’d spent a very long time showing Niall just how proud you were of him, how much you loved him. In the end, it left both of you sweaty and shaking as you lay there. The tv was on, reruns of something neither of you were paying attention to playing with the sound off, the light flickering over both of you tangled in the sheets.

With a sigh, you adjust until you’re laying on your stomach, ear over Niall’s heart. The steady thump is soothing and you close your eyes. “You played my favorite.” You say softly, running your fingers up and down his chest.

His chest rumbles as he hums. “I did. Wanted ta surprise you.”

“Definitely a surprise.”

He shifts a bit under you, the arm behind you wrapping over your shoulders. “Ya liked it?”

You lift your head to meet his eyes. He looks so soft and rumpled and you swear it actually tugs at your heart. “I loved it.”

“Good.” He smiles and you lean down to press a kiss to his peck before you lay your head back down. The two of you lapse back into silence and Niall’s breathing slows enough that you think he’s fallen asleep. You’re slowly drifting off, body and mind content, when he squeezes at your shoulder. “Hey, you asleep?”

“Not yet.” You breathe out.

“Come ‘ere.” The two of you shift and sleepily work together until you’re further up the bed, legs tangled, your head on Niall’s upper arm as you face each other.

Reaching your hand up, you rub at his scalp and run your fingers down the side of his face. “What’s going on, honey?”

“Just wanted to look at ya.” He says softly and if you weren’t already a puddle from earlier, you’d honestly melt at the look in his eyes. “I love you, ya know dat?”

You smile at him. “I think I’ve heard it a few times.” His lips twitch up slightly. “I love you too. So much, Ni.”

His free hand caresses your waist, curling around your hip and drawing your body that much closer. The two of you lay there in silence and your eyes drift shut as you listen to him breathe. He takes a deep breath, tangling his fingers with yours.

“Marry me.”

Your eyes flutter open, meeting the startling blue of his. His gaze is resolute and you swallow against the emotions building in your chest. “Are you-?”

“Don’t ask me if ‘m sure. I’ve never been more sure of anyting in me life.” His hand leaves your hip in favor of cupping your cheek. “There is nothing more I want than to spend da rest of my life wit you. I want ta experience every good moment with you. And I want to experience every bad moment wit ya too. I want everything with you. Your name is branded all over me heart, darlin’ and I’d rather carve it out than ever be without ya.” You sniffle and Niall smiles as he wipes a few tears off your cheek. “So, Y/N, marry me?”

You smile, nodding into his arm. “Yes.”

Niall’s face lights up and he pulls you in tighter, fingers gripping your flesh hard enough to bruise, but you don’t care. “Yeah?” He asks breathlessly.

Hands on either side of his face, you lean in and kiss him, both of you gasping into each other. You pull back slightly, your nose brushing his as you smile at him.

“Yeah.”

——————

A/N: And there we have it kiddos. Flicker of Hope is officially over.

…Unless I suddenly get inspired or one of you gives me a prompt I fall in love with lol. It was never not going to end this way for me. These two were always end game.

I hope you liked it ❤️

[cricketnationrise]

23:59, the Brownstone, Prince Henry <3

y'all really be liking midnight for these guys lolll have some super soft firstprince feelings to round out your evening 💜🦗

one day left for requesting ficlets! rules here.

brownstone, 11:59pm

Something moving through the room wakes Henry. 

Well, wakes is a strong word. He hovers in that liminal space between asleep and awake, completely cozy on the sofa where he must have started dozing off in the middle of Bake Off reruns. He and David are curled together and it would literally take a modern miracle to get him to open his eyes, let alone move at this point.

Fingers card through his hair and when he inhales, Henry gets the faint whiff of cinnamon. Alex. He leans into the contact with a contented hum.

“Fell asleep watching Bake Off again, huh baby?”

“Mmm, it's distinctly possible.”

“You want to head upstairs or hang out down here?”

Henry does open his eyes at that. “Is it terribly uncouth to want to stay here? I’m so comfortable right now.”

“That depends, I guess.”

“On what?”

“On whether there’s room for me on the couch.”

The smile that he feels taking over his face must be so sappy, but Henry couldn’t care less about looking suave or coy right now. He just wants Alex to see how in love he is at this moment.

“There’s always room for you, love.”

Alex’s face does an amazing sort of melty thing that, were Henry standing, he’d need to sit down. As it is, his spine feels like pudding at the sight. Alex brushes a kiss on Henry’s forehead quickly and then stands straight.

“I’m gonna put my school stuff in the office and get into comfier clothes, but I’ll be back soon.”

“Don’t take too long.”

He doesn’t.

And if the three of them end up sleeping tangled together on the couch all night, only waking when the morning light hits their faces through the living room window— Well. No one can prove it.