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absolutepokemontrash · 3 years

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MC’s Half Demon and They Look Awfully Familiar Lessons 18-20

Series Masterlist

T-the season finale… *sniffle* it’s been a wild ride y’all… I’ve never actually written and stuck through with something for so long, so this is a real achievement for me! I really hope you guys have enjoyed this completely weird fluffy/angsty/mildly crackhead adventure! Please enjoy the last part!

All is well, the family is back together, everyone’s fine, the school year is almost over-

Wait, the school year is almost over?

Upon realizing that, everyone settled into a state of mild panic.

MC couldn’t just leave, they were part of the family! An integral part! They were the only thing keeping everyone from murdering each other during family game night!

As for Lucifer’s personal feelings on the matter, things were… tough.

When the exchange program was announced, Lucifer expected it to end like most of Diavolo’s ideas: annoying to clean up, it certainly couldn’t have ended worse than when he and the Crown Prince ended up getting cursed to hold hands for 25 hours straight. What Lucifer didn’t expect was for a child he didn’t even know he had to end up as the human exchange student and for his entire life to be thrown out of whack. That child of his was busy finishing up their final paper of the year.

“Hey, father,” MC looked up from their paper with a cheeky smile. “Do you think that the next exchange student will be as fun as me?”

“I sincerely hope not.” Lucifer sighed, continuing to sift through his paperwork on his desk. “Your kind of ‘excitement’ has completely worn me out.”

“Aw,” MC giggled, then went back to work. “So you don’t want me to stay here then?”

Lucifer stiffened and looked up from his paperwork. “Don’t put words in my mouth, MC.”

“So you do want me to stay. Interesting~” MC said as they began to sweep the eraser shavings off their paper. “Well, if you want me to stay so badly, you could have just asked.”

“P-pardon?” Lucifer blinked a few times to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating. “You want to stay?”

“Since you’d be so sad without me, I guess I just have to don’t I?” MC stood suddenly and slapped their finished essay on Lucifer’s desk. “The sacrifices I make for this family, I swear!”

We stand with you, MC, sacrifice your sanity for your weird-ass familia.

Anyway, Lucifer was thrilled that MC wanted to stay with him in the Devildom, the problem was… MC’s other parent may not have been too keen to just give up their baby.

You know, the demon child they raised all by themselves, with no help from Lucifer because he didn’t know MC existed…

Someone get MC’s ren on the phone! Stat!

“Alright dear little brothers of mine, listen closely because I’m not repeating this.” Lucifer looked over the living room couches at the other six rulers of hell. Belphie was sprawled out on one of the couches and was drooling all over Beel’s lap, Satan was making a point to look as disinterested as possible and kept sneaking glances at the book he was holding, and Mammon was wrestling Levi dangerously close to where Asmo was filing his nails.

Sighing in defeat, Lucifer continued. If any of his brothers misbehaved he couldn’t say he didn’t warn them. “MC‘s parent will be coming to visit.”

Everyone’s attention snapped to Lucifer. Wonderful.

“They’ll be staying for a few days and will decide if it’s in MC’s best interest to primarily stay in the Devildom from now on.”

Asmodeus slowly raised a hand. “Luciiiiiiferrrr!”

“Asmo, is your question overly personal in nature?”

The Avatar of lust brought a manicured nail to his cheek and daintily tapped it. “Mmm… I don’t think so.”

“Ask.”

“How long were you and MC’s parent dating for? Won’t it be awkward to be around your ex?”

Lucifer dragged a gloved hand down his face. “It was a one night thing.”

“Really?” Asmo knitted his eyebrows in confusion. “It wasn’t a long drawn out forbidden romance? You must have had some Olympic swimmers down there!”

“Okay!” Lucifer clapped his hands. “Add that to the list of things Asmo is not allowed to say.”

“We have to take something off the list then…” Beel said through handfuls of chips. “The list’s full.”

“Fine,” Lucifer grumbled. “He can say [CENSORED] again.”

“Yippee! [CENSORED] [CENSORED] [CENSORED]”

The group collectively groaned as Asmo continued to spout his profane nonsense.

“What did I just walk in on..?” MC stood in the doorway to the living room, still in their PJs.

“Oh, MC, your parent’s coming over to stay for a few days.” Lucifer quickly explained.

MC’s face morphed from confusion to horror. “What does that have to do with [CENSORED]?!”

This house is a FUCKING NIGHTMARE-

Anyway, after the initial confusion/horror, MC got really excited and rushed off to get ready. Meanwhile, the boys solemnly swore that they would be on their best behaviour!

Everyone needed to convince MC’s parent that everything in the Devildom was perfectly safe and that their little hellspawn was in good responsible hands.

Mammon tried to come up with a plan in case MC wasn’t allowed to stay with them, and let’s just say it involved kidnapping. But like- a chill kind of kidnapping where MC would be totally fine.

This idea was immediately shot down in favour of Beel’s plan B.

Beel would just… eat MC’s parent. No biggie, right?

Lucifer shot that one down the moment he heard it.

The only accepted plan for if MC wasn’t allowed to stay was just letting them go. They’d visit the Devildom. A lot. Many visits would be necessary.

So, the hour of MC’s ren’s arrival had come, and the student council assembled to greet them.

Greet the human. The completely non magical human. Greet them and then let them see the Devildom…

Was this exchange program really that good of an idea..?

MC frantically attempted to do some last minute fixes to their hair as they sat themselves down in their seat in the Assembly Hall. Ugh… stupid hair…

“Why are you so nervous?” Satan asked. “Is our visitor a neat freak basket case?”

“No!” MC huffed. “They’re not! I’m just making myself presentable so they don’t think I’ve gone completely feral down here.”

“Well, feral no, crazy, yes. Have you seen yourself lately?” Belphie snickered.

“SHUT UP BELPHIE.”

“Would you all be quiet?” Lucifer snapped. “You’re all acting like children.”

“I am a child.” MC snapped back. “What’s Belphie’s excuse?”

Belphie’s retort was cut off by the portal opening and a figure leisurely floating to the ground. They had an open parasol in their right hand that seemed to be aiding their gentle descent, and a large container full of what smelled like cookies tucked into their left side. The moment their toes touched the floor, the human gracefully closed their parasol and gave the assembled demons a sparkling smile and a polite bow.

“Thank you for allowing me the honour to visit,” the human’s voice was as soft and sweet as Cotton candy. “It’s a pleasure to officially meet the princes of hell themselves.”

:D yay!

After floating down from the sky like Mary Poppins, MC lost all sense of propriety and ran over to tackle their ren into a hug. It was that kind of thing where you really miss someone but you don’t realize exactly how much until you get to see them again.

Lucifer was, of course, the picture of elegance and “this isn’t awkward at all”-ness.

MC’s parent didn’t even seem to be all that concerned with the fact that their baby daddy was, y'know, LUCIFER MORNINGSTAR. THE MOST POMPOUS FUCKWAD IN THE DEVILDOM.

Please don’t tell him I said that, he’s still mad about the Go Fund Me…

MC was absolutely ecstatic to finally show their parent how much they’ve grown in terms of their demonic powers and all the friends they had made, but MC’s ren was more concerned with how much they had grown in terms of their height.

“You’re just so tall now,” MC’s ren giggled as they fixed their child’s hair. “You’ll get things off of shelves for me, won’t you?”

“Yeah yeah,” MC said, rolling their eyes good naturedly. “Like you can’t reach anything in your kitchen.”

“Okay,” Mammon, Satan, Levi, Belphie, and Beel were lagging behind Lucifer, MC, their parent, and Diavolo. “Change of plans, we ain’t eatin’ ‘em, we’re keepin’ ‘em.”

“We were never going to eat them in the first place, idiot.” Satan sneered. “And what’s with the change of tune? You were ready to wage war on the human world fifteen minutes ago.”

“…cookies happened.” Mammon mumbled. He had only gotten one of the human’s totally amazing offerings before Beel proceeded to eat everything. The cookie was perfect… so delicious…

“I say we keep the human.” Beel put a hand on his stomach. “I want more human world cookies.”

“They’re so cute too…” Asmo cooed. “A solid 10/10, and that’s such a rare ranking coming from the only 20/10 in existence!”

“Asmo, your vanity never ceases to make me want to roll over and-” Belphie’s insult was interrupted by him passing out and letting out a cartoonishly loud snore. It was a good thing Beel was able to quickly catch and throw Belphie over his shoulders like a sack of potatoes.

“Asmo has a point, they’re just so totally moe! Kawaii to the highest degree! That parasol, the homemade cookies, it’s just like something from a slice of life anime!” Levi squee-ed.

“So it’s settled, we treat ‘em nice, then we get ‘em to stay.” Mammon nodded to the rest of his brothers, who for the first time in the Demon King knows how long, his little brothers nodded back in full seriousness. They were actually doing a Mammon plan! Holy shit!

So, the brothers liked MC’s ren, what about Diavolo and Barbatos?

Well, MC’s ren had heard all about Barbatos’ amazing cooking from MC and Barb’s totally outstanding reputation, so the two got along swimmingly.

Dia. Loved. That. Human. They’re cute???? They’re sweet???? They brought COOKIES???! They don’t seem to be afraid of him at all????? Please be the exchange student next year :D

Oh yeah… he made a rule that said they couldn’t summon someone with kids… it would be cruel to rip a parent away from their child…

But apparently not a child away from their parent cough cough

Other than the uncle squad, MC’s ren got to meet the Purgatory Hall gang too!

MC was being just the most adorable tour guide, but that didn’t stop Lucifer from having a miniature heart attack any time a demon even looked at MC’s parent the wrong way. If MC’s ren got attacked or felt threatened in any way shape or form, he could say bye bye to his time with the one person in the HOL that didn’t live to make him pop a forehead vein. The human seemed outwardly unconcerned with any Devildom oddness and was amicably chatting with Diavolo while MC pulled them from place to place.

“And that’s Hell’s Kitchen, they have good sandwiches, and that’s Madame Scream’s, they have really good macarons.” MC helpfully pointed out the places as they passed them.

A much to familiar trio of voices called out from down the street. Father dammit, why were they here..?

“Hello Lucifer, what are you all up too?” Ugh… Simeon…

“From the sight of the rest of your brothers skulking about, it appears like they’re acting as bodyguards.” Solomon…

“MC? Who’s that?”

Oh good grief… that nasally little voice… the chihuahua was near… Now… Lucifer was a respectable demon… respectable demons don’t tease children in front of the parent of their child…

“Hello chihuahua.”

DAMN IT HE COULDN’T HELP HIMSELF!

“I’m not a chihuahua you demon!” Luke yapped.

MC’s parent daintily tilted their head and looked over at MC. “Aren’t you going to introduce me to your friends?”

“Right, Luke, this is my ren, ren, this is a chihuahua.” MC grinned cheekily as they gestured between the two. Lucifer suppressed a laugh which resulted in a very ugly snort. It was a good thing the sound was drowned out by Luke’s exclamations of betrayal.

The chorus of “how could you?!”s and “I thought you were over that awful nickname!”s was put to an abrupt halt when the visiting human elegantly offered a handshake to the fuming angel.

“MC spoke very highly of you,” they chirped. “It’s very nice to meet you, Luke.”

Luke blinked a few times, then quickly straightened his posture, adjusted his hat, then shook MC’s ren’s hand. “It’s nice to meet you too.”

“That’s Simeon.” MC jerked a thumb in Simeon’s direction. “And that’s Solomon.”

“Luke got a whole introduction and we get that? Come on MC, I thought we were friends.” Solomon fake pouted at MC after giving a polite nod to MC’s parent.

“We stopped being friends after one of the potions you had me test out turned me into a-” as quick as lighting, Mammon had shoved his hand into MC’s face.

“A-ah, MC��s rememberin’ stuff wrong, nothin’ potion related happened to ‘em. Right, Solomon???!”

Taking the hint from Mammon, Solomon smiled and nodded. “Nope, nothing related to turning MC into a frog for a few hours.”

“Hm, well I’m quite happy that absolutely nothing frog transformation related happened.” MC’s parent said.

“Yeah, must’ve hit their head on somethin- YEEEOW!” MC had bitten down on Mammon’s hand and slapped it away from them.

“I did not hit my head on anything!”

“Yeah,” Beel nodded. “Nothing’s hit them since the Fangol ball.”

“The what ball?” MC’s ren asked.

“The Fangol ball that hit MC a few months back and broke their glasses.” Five of the brothers slapped their hands to their foreheads.

“Oh my…”

“Eh,” MC patted their ren on the arm. “That’s nothing compared to the giant snake at the retreat.”

“Oh! Do you mind letting me tell that story, MC?”

Lucifer was frantically signalling for Diavolo to stop talking but the crown prince was already beginning his retelling of the events. Luke would chime in with an anecdote from an even worse misadventure the two had gone out on every once and a while. This… this wasn’t going well at all…

MC’s ren was… weirdly chill about the whole thing…

“Oh, it’s so nice that you’re having fun, sweetheart. That reminds me of when I was young and your aunt Clytemnestra and I would go out and have adventures.” “Really? You went on weird adventures too?” “…what kind of adventures could possibly compare to being chased by a giant snake in an underground labyrinth..?”

The side characters ended up needing to abscond for various reasons and all that was left was the brothers, MC, and MC’s parent.

They made it to the HOL without issue, which is when Lucifer remembered that he did not put all the cursed objects out of reach… shit.

“Asmo… Asmo!” “What is it?” “Take MC’s ren out of the house in half an hour, keep them occupied in the living room!” “What? Why?” “I need more time to human-proof the house! Distract them, but no funny business!” “Dear brother, for the first time in a very long time funny business is the second thing on my mind! Wait… no, it’s the third… what have I become..?”

Asmo and Satan, super graciously by the way, led MC and their ren to the living room to distract- I mean entertain them for a bit!

Lucifer and the rest of the gang got to work moving certain things around and closing certain doors- shit where was Cerberus?! Did Lucifer forget to walk him that morning?!

So much to dooooooo…

So maybe bringing a human into Majolish and letting them roam around unsupervised wasn’t the best idea Satan and Asmo had, but it sure as heck was an idea. MC looked through shelves of hairpins and bracelets while their ren disappeared around a corner to look at scarves.

“We’re doing such a great job babysitting!” Asmo clapped his hands. “If MC had just been a normal human I bet they’d last the entire year under our care.”

“Hm, you might be right.” Satan smiled and nodded. “Humans are surprisingly entertaining.”

“Yes… speaking of, where exactly is the human?”

The sudden sound of metal slamming against flesh and the delayed sound of something incredibly heavy hitting the floor jolted Asmo and Satan from their conversation.

“Honestly, some people have no fucking manners!”

It was such a different voice than what Satan and Asmo were used to that the only thing that tipped them off to it being MC’s ren was the fact that MC began to giggle. MC’s ren stepped back into view carrying a metal staff that quickly transformed back to their parasol.

Asmo and Satan rushed over to check if their defenceless little human guest was okay, only to find some lesser demon passed out on the floor with an incredibly nasty bump on the side of their head.

“I’ve heard that humans are apparently quite delicious to demons but I didn’t expect someone to actually try and eat me.”

“I-um…” Satan sputtered, looking from Asmo to MC’s parent. “We’re uh…”

“You alright, ren?” MC called from over by the bracelet shelves.

“Yes, I’m alright.” MC’s ren gave the fourth and fifth born a calming smile. “No harm done, well, except to that poor bastard. I do hope I haven’t killed him… that would be such a nasty thing for the poor sales associates to find.”

Okay so maybe the defenceless human wasn’t so defenceless. That was a good thing… right?

“So where exactly did you manage to get your hands on such a weapon..?” “Ah, I come from a family of witches. This was a college graduation present.”

…doit doit seems legit.

The four made it back home just in time, Lucifer and the others had finished human proofing the house.

Yay!

The house tour went by smoothly, everything was all well and good until Beel and Belphie asked MC’s ren to make more cookies.

Oh god dammit the human said they would.

“Oh Beel, you shouldn’t eat the cookie dough raw… the eggs and raw flour will make you sick!” “Don’t worry, he’ll be fine. Besides, it’s best not to interrupt Beel while he’s eating.” “Yeah it might end like the custard incident.” “Custard… incident?” “MC and Mammon ate my custard and I ended up breaking the wall that connected to MC’s room.” “Hunger tantrums, am I right?”

After that it was Mammon and Levi’s turn to babysit. It went about as well as you’d think.

Levi explained some anime plot in an attempt to make it seem like the Devildom was totally safe and that MC and their ren could stay forever no problem, while Mammon desperately suppressed the urge to swipe the cool parasol.

Finally, it was time for the verdict. Would MC be allowed to stay in the Devildom..? Or would they go back to the human world..?

“Lucifer?”

The demon in question looked up from his paperwork and tried to nod in the most casual way possible. MC’d ren was standing in the doorway, Lucifer must have missed their knock. “Yes? Do you need something?”

MC’s ren smiled and nodded. “It’s about MC’s living situation going forward.”

Lucifer stiffened and got up from his desk. “Y-yes… what about it?”

“MC has expressed that they want to stay here full time with frequent visits to the human world.” The softness that their voice had earlier in the day was completely absent as the human stepped forward into the study and closed the door behind them. “I want to know what you think about that.”

“Well,” Lucifer cleared his throat and tried to shake off the stupid sense of nervousness that had wrapped itself around him. A weak little human’s decision should not make him so anxious! “I would like for MC to stay here as well, I think it would be best for them.”

The human raised an eyebrow and twirled their parasol in their hand. “Really now? In your year with them you truly believe you know what’s best for them?”

Lucifer’s eyes narrowed. “Yes. I do.”

MC’s ren went quiet for a few seconds before replying. “I see.”

“And that means..?”

“I knew this day would come, but I didn’t think it’d be so soon.” MC’s ren sighed, and for the first time all day, they actually let their exhaustion show. “I raised MC knowing that one day they’d end up in the Devildom. They’ve told me over and over again how much they like it down here…” the human took a deep breath and slowly shook their head. “If this is what they want… then I give my permission for them to stay with you.”

A wave of relief swept over Lucifer as he finally took a breath. “Thank you.”

“Mm… I’m going to have to use my favour though.”

The relief completely vanished as the Avatar of Pride’s blood ran cold. Memories flooded back from the one night the pair had spent together, the human had offered a cursed record to him that he had spent decades trying to find, in exchange, Lucifer let them have one favour. A favour from a demon was like a single pact order, Lucifer had to do literally anything this human wanted.

“Protect MC, even if it costs you your life.” The human’s words were careful and measured as Lucifer felt the order sink in. “You’ll do that for them, right Lucifer?”

Lucifer nodded as life flooded back into his limbs. “I would have done it without the order.”

So, the brother’s plan to make MC’s ren stay forever failed because they were going back to the human world with MC for summer vacation. Listen, it was needed, MC needed to see the sun lest they shrivel like a sad houseplant.

At least Lucifer technically had primary custody of his little heathen! Victory!

MC said their goodbyes to the friends they had made over the year as they prepared to leave for the next two months, it was filled with so many bone-crushing hugs that MC was surprised that their spine didn’t snap.

MC and Luke had lagged behind the much larger group as they made their way to the assembly hall. MC’s ren was dazzling the miniature crowd with stories of just how adorable MC was as a little kid. The half demon rolled their eyes and silently mourned the loss of any cool points they had gained over the year. Their little companion was oddly quiet, MC lightly nudged him and smiled.

“Aren’t you happy to be going home? You’ve been griping about being stuck down here the entire year. Don’t tell me you’re getting sappy, Luke.”

Luke puffed his cheek out and crossed his arms. “Of course I’m happy to be leaving, the Celestial Realm is the best place ever, the Devildom is completely terrible in every way.”

MC smirked and rolled their eyes again. Just let the little guy go on his rant…

“But… I am going to miss you…” Luke mumbled, MC’s eyebrows shot upwards as they turned their head to look at him. “Th-thanks for being my friend down here… MC. You’re… you’re really nice.”

To their absolute horror, MC felt a lump form in their throat. Oh dear Grandfather… the chihuahua was what broke them?! They quickly looked around to see if anyone was paying attention, then quickly pulled Luke into a hug. The hug was over as fast as it began, but it seemed that Luke didn’t particularly care and was more shocked at the sudden bout of affection.

“If anyone, and I mean anyone asks, I didn’t hug you.” MC murmured, quickly swiping at their eyes.

Luke nodded, a small smile spread across his face. “Got it!”

So the side characters left… *sniffle* everything’s okay… the DDDs work in any of the realms… they could still talk.

Soon, it was time for the final sets of goodbyes…

“Come on, Bean, we’re going to the human world!” MC tried to take the cat from Satan, who didn’t move a muscle.

“If you think you’re taking the cat from here, you’re delusional.” Satan’s smile didn’t leave his face, but the force behind his words was almost enough to make MC back off. Almost…

“My caaaaaat!” MC whined, they ended up getting lightly pushed away by Satan.

“Remember, the summer’s a good time to catch up on anime!” Levi advised. “There’s 24 hours in a day, and an average anime episode is 22 minutes long, you have loads of time!”

“I’ll keep up with my anime only if you promise to listen to the Death Note musical, Levi.” MC giggled and patted Levi on the shoulder.

“Remember MC, take care of your cuticles and your skin.” Asmo took MC’s hand and checked their fingernails. “They were an absolute mess before you got here, so I expect you to keep up your routines this summer!”

“Yeeeeeeeeeeees siiiiiiiiirrrrrrrrr.”

“Bye MC,” Beel handed MC a half opened cup of custard. “I almost ate it, but I didn’t. Make sure you don’t skip any meals this summer.

MC jumped up and gave Beel a quick hug. “Thanks Beel! I’ll be sure to enjoy the custard!”

“Bye, MC. See you next year.” Belphie stood awkwardly stiff, not exactly sure what to do. MC pursed their lips, then quickly wrapped him up in a hug.

“Bye Belphie, I hope all your pillow forts are structurally unsound.”

The avatar of sloth snickered and rested his head on MC’s. “I hope you get really comfortable and are fully ready to go to sleep, then realize you have to pee.”

MC gasped in fake offence and swatted Belphie on the arm.

Mammon put both his hands on MC’s shoulders, his face unusually serious. “Do ya remember what the great Mammon took painstakin’ effort to teach ya?”

“Payday loans are scams, witches are scary, bowline knots are the easiest to undo, don’t wear reflective sunglasses to a poker game aaaaaaaand…” MC grinned mischievously. “Any plan thought up by the Great Mammon should be subject to intense revision.”

“That’s ri- hey!” Mammon laughed and shoved MC towards Lucifer.

MC looked up at Lucifer, the pride demon looked down at them fondly. He reached out and gently ruffled their hair. “I’ll see you next year, MC.”

“Y-yeah…”

Lucifer crouched down slightly to get to their level and gave MC a smile. “I’m very proud of you, you’ve been an immense help this year. Thank you for everything.”

“Thanks for not being a stereotypical supervillain dad, father.” MC smiled softly and fixed their glasses. “Loveyoubye!”

MC turned and rushed to their ren’s side as Lucifer let out a soft chuckle.

“I love you too, MC.”

As Barbatos readied the portal to send the pair to the human world, MC couldn’t wipe the grin off their face. Geez, if this year was a metric mess of fun and insanity… what was the next year going to be like? The half demon’s grin morphed into a bit of a smirk. No way in hell their next year in the Devildom was going to be as insane as their first year.

MC almost giggled as they gave their family one last wave. That wasn’t the time to think about the future, besides, MC knew that it would take two insane chaotic humans to be summoned into the Devildom to even come close to the chaos MC managed to create, both on purpose and by accident.

And what were the odds of that happening?

——————

Authors Note: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA ITS DONE SEASON ONE IS DONE!

I wasn’t able to fit the Anti Lucifer League stuff into this one, I’ll put it in a separate fic later!

I NOW NEED TO WORK ON GETTING THROUGH SEASON 2 IN THE ACTUAL GAME. To get mildly serious for a second, thanks to everyone who has stuck around to listen to me spout my fic-y nonsense, you all are nerds (affectionate) and I love you.

#obey me #obey me!#obey me! shall we date?#obey me shall we date #Obey me Headcanons #Obey me fic #Obey me! Headcanons #Obey me MC #Obey me Lucifer #Obey me Mammon #obey me beelzebub #Obey me Belphegor #obey me leviathan #Obey me Asmodeus #Obey me Satan #Obey me Luke

198 notes · View notes

catdadeddie · 3 years

Note

I’m so happy for you, Nova‼️ I really am 🥺 can I request a fic, for buddie. I don’t really have a prompt besides anything this quote inspires. “You made falling in love with you easy that I never realized I was falling.”

Thank you, Sunny!! I adore this line and I hope you like the fic!!

The Love We Hold - 1.7k

Feelings realization, fluff and angst, love confessions, some character introspection. - minor mention of events from season 4

(read on ao3) - link to celebration event

Looking back, Eddie should’ve known. He shouldn’t be surprised by the realization that he’s in love with Buck, yet here he is, watching Buck sit on Chimney’s couch with Christopher as he helps him hold Maddie and Chimney’s newborn, Charlotte. Here he is wondering how Christopher would be as a big brother and how Buck would be as a dad. It all rings in his mind in the tone of “Oh” as he realizes the meaning to that thought. He looks at two of his favorite people in the world and everything he hasn’t paid attention to over the years hits him. He loves Buck.

“He’s a natural,” Maddie whispers to him, shaking him from the sudden shift in his world. He’s not even sure which one she’s referring to and that screams to him too. Too much is moving through his brain right now, but it all equates to love. He glances at Maddie where she anxiously is watching next to him. This is the first time he’s seen her in weeks and she seems to be taking motherhood like most new moms. There’s bags under her eyes and her movements are slow and sleepy, even resting a hand on the back of the living room chair for support, but the grin on her face as she watches Chim return from the bathroom and walks over to the couch. He stands behind it and leans over Christopher to watch as the newborn starts falling asleep with Buck’s finger in her little grasp.

“Yeah, he is.” Eddie answers as he subconsciously stares for a minute. He shakes himself from it though and turns his attention to Maddie. “How’s it been going? I remember the first week home with Christopher. I swear Shannon and I didn’t sleep at all.”

“If I felt okay leaving her with anyone right now, I’d have you and Buck babysit while I took a nap,” she answers with a soft smile.

“You totally could,” Eddie teases knowing the new mother wouldn’t dare leave her newborn with anyone besides Chimney and that would be a stretch.

“Don’t tempt me,” she grins before leaving him to his thoughts as she joins the group. Eddie debates joining them. Buck is looking up at Maddie now with a fond look that someone would relate to a golden retriever, as she pulls one of the chairs to be as close to Christopher as possible. Buck laughs softly as Christopher and Maddie start talking about the baby. Chimney and Buck add in every once in a while. It makes Eddie feel like an outsider looking in and that’s what makes him finally decide to walk over and take the seat next to Buck, who turns to him and grins as he whispers about how Christopher seems to like the baby.

Eddie just nods and gives a soft smile as he watches Christopher cradle the baby. His heart melts at Christopher, so focused on her. He’s keeping his arm against the arm of the couch so he can keep supporting the head. He does really seem to like it all and Eddie’s not really sure what to do with that information as well. He feels Buck’s elbow push into his ribs making him shake his head and refocus. He looks up at Buck, whose eyebrows are pulled together in a show of concern. Eddie sighs and goes to find something to express why he’s acting this way, but he’s saved by Chimney calling his name.

“Eddie! You wanna take your turn?” He asks as Maddie eases Charlotte out of Christopher’s arms.

“I’d love to,” he grins as he gets handed the newborn. She’s unbelievably light in his arms as he adjusts her to sit more comfortably in his arms. He can’t help but notice that her little nose looks just like Maddie’s and the so-brown-they’re-black eyes staring up at him are almost identical to Chimney’s.

“She’s beautiful. Happy and healthy. You both are doing great,” he whispers, looking up at where Chimney has moved to stand behind Maddie’s chair. His hand on her shoulder as they both gaze lovingly at their daughter. Maddie nods and says a thank you as tears fill her eyes.

It’s not long before Eddie decides to leave and give the couple some more time alone with their newest source of happiness.

---

Eddie hasn’t left his spot on the couch since Christopher went to bed. He’s been staring aimlessly at the tv with no recollection of what’s been on it as his mind is just full of Buck. Buck, who has become a staple in his and Christopher’s lives. Buck, who has always been there for Christopher. Buck, who is there for Eddie. Buck, who he loves.

All the game nights, trips together, the three of them just having fun echoes through Eddie’s mind. If there’s anyone out there that should join him and Christopher, it’s Buck and in reality, he’s already joined them. He’s already linked to all that they are. He’s right there with them and the thought scares Eddie in all honesty. Buck got this close to them without Eddie even being aware.

His thoughts get interrupted again with the flash of headlights through the window in his living room. He glances up to see Buck’s Jeep pulling into the spot behind his truck. Eddie watches as he turns off the car and before deciding to stand up. He sighs as he rubs his hands against his jeans before standing up to see why Buck’s here at 10 o’clock at night. He’s leaning against the wall on the outskirts of his entryway when the sound of keys jingling plays on the other side of the door. He debates just going and opening it but he needs the couple seconds it takes Buck to twist the key and push open the door to compose himself.

When Buck does step through the door, he jumps at the sight of Eddie. “Eddie! What the fuck are you doing? You scared the shit out of me.” He scolds as he tries to catch his breath while closing the door.

“Says the one who just let himself into my house this late at night,” Eddie shrugs, making Buck roll his eyes and mumble a “Touché.”

“I just wanted to check on you. You seemed… distant at Maddie and Chimney’s,” Buck adds with his own shrug after stuffing his hands in his pockets. Eddie lets his eyes flicker across Buck’s face in the dark room. He has this fleeting concern that screams of course he noticed. How couldn’t he notice how Eddie was acting. Maybe this was easier when Eddie just didn’t know.

“I’ve just been doing a lot of thinking. Nothing to be worried about,” Eddie tries reassuring him while escaping the topic. Buck seems to pick up on his attempt at running away from this and just sighs before teasing Eddie in a way that loosens the tension between them. “That’s an awfully dangerous thing for you to be doing, Eds.”

Eddie lets out a breathy laugh before grinning at his best friend. His best friend. If that isn’t a reason enough to keep this to himself, Eddie’s never had a friend like Buck and he isn’t ready to jeopardize that over feelings he didn’t know he had until 5 hours ago.

“Eddie, you’re doing it. Again,” Buck says, stepping closer to him. He’s right in front of Eddie before Eddie has anytime to process what’s going on.

“I thought we were working on communication,” Buck quips with a bit of a teasing tone. “We’ve been doing great at talking out our issues. What’s so bad that you’re hiding this?”

Eddie feels the deep swallow that goes through his throat as he has to look up at Buck due to the close proximity. “What’s going on, Eddie?” He basically begs, making Eddie’s heart tug and before he even knows what’s happened the words escape his mouth.

“I love you.”

Both of them still as they process what Eddie just said. Eddie tries studying Buck’s face for some kind of reaction and when nothing but surprise is shown back to him, he just closes his eyes and wills it all to go away. He admits it's cliché but his heart is pounding and he just wants to open his eyes and this all has been a dream.

“I’m sorry,” He chokes out in a raspy whisper as he tries to side step away from Buck. His efforts are stopped by Buck’s hand grabbing his wrist and his voice following Eddie’s in the silence. “Why are you sorry?”

Eddie opens his eyes and blinks, stunned at the man in front of him. Buck’s face is only inches from his with a furrowed brow. Eddie looks down at where Buck’s hand is still on his wrist as he responds. “I’m sorry that I said that.”

“Did you mean it?” Buck asks quietly as his grip tightens before letting go completely. His demeanor has shrunk and he’s inching a step back and Eddie’s realized a whole other side of this coming out. Maybe Buck loves him too.

“Of course, I do,” He adds as softly as his nerves let him. It's too late to go back so he’s just gonna try to see where this goes as he reaches out for Buck’s hand. Buck meets his eyes again with a hopeful look tied into his features. A soft grin spread across his face.

“You do? You love me?” Buck echoes in insecurity that Eddie hates to see. It’s been something he knows Buck’s been working on, especially since his parent’s visit, but it's still something he sees haunt Buck.

“Buck, you made falling in love with you easy that I never realized I was falling,” Eddie promises, as he hopes Buck recognizes the value and truth to the words. He watches as Buck’s grin grows and Eddie can‘t help but pull Buck forward and into his arms. He feels Buck’s arms wrap tightly around him as something wet starts pooling on his shoulder. Eddie squeezes him before pulling back enough to see his face.

“They’re happy tears,” Buck laughs as Eddie reaches up and wipes under his eyes. “I promise.”

Eddie nods and whispers a “I know,” before leaning up the little bit of distance to press his lips to Buck’s. The kiss is far from perfect with Buck’s tears leaving a salty taste to the mess and they’re more focused on the connection and feeling of just being together like this than anything else. When they do part, Buck lets his forehead rest against Eddie’s. Eddie just reaches out to hold him as Buck whispers “I love you, too,” between them.

#buddie #nova writes #911 fox #softboiidiaz #novas 200 celebration #mention of events from s4 #s4

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on-maars · 3 years

Text

Find My Way Home (Back To You)

Alright I wrote a post Eddie Begins episode fic and I really hope you’ll like it :)

Read it on AO3

Eddie sighs and turns around for what might be the tenth time in the past two hours.

He can’t sleep. He can’t sleep without being back there again. He can’t sleep without stopping the nightmares. Not about the war. He’s had his fair share of night terrors about the war, but lately the nightmares have taken another direction. He doesn’t dream of being the target of a thousand snipers anymore. He dreams of that moment. He dreams of being back there again, buried in the ground, thirty feet of wet earth above him, trapped, without any way of getting back to his son, without any way of getting back to his family. It’s suffocating, and Eddie often wakes up soaking wet, his hair sticking to his forehead, his sheet drenched in sweat. Drenched in sweat, and tears. His tears.

He can’t sleep and he tried everything. Every method he can think of. Every method his mother used to teach him when he was scared and alone at night, suffering from insomnia. He tried some breathing exercises his therapist showed him the week before, tried taking a walk around the neighborhood to clear his head and take his mind off things, he tried reading a book and even went through some meditations videos on YouTube that Buck recommended to him a while back. But nothing is working. His mind keeps sending him back to that place. To the well.

Eddie turns around again and lets his eyes fall on his alarm clock as it reads 2:49am. Eddie sighs and presses his hands to his face, apprehending the 24 hours shift waiting for him in the early hours of the morning. Not necessarily because of the fatigue. After all it wouldn’t be the first time Eddie gets through an awfully long shift with the 118 with only a few hours of sleep in his system.

No, he’s only apprehending it because he knows, deep down, that he’s so far from being in the right state of mind to face the difficulties of his job. He feels more restless, more fidgety, less focused than usual. And if there is no doubt in Eddie’s mind that the 118 is going to notice his mood swings. And if they notice, then he’s going to need to explain. Explain the extent of how messed-up he is in the head. Explain how the war still terrorized him sometimes at night. Explain how tight his throat is ever since he’s made it out of that well. And that’s a conversation he’s not ready to face.

Eddie looks up at the ceiling and gropes around in the dark until his right hand finds his phone. He knows scrolling mindlessly the news is only going to keep his brain more awake but he doesn’t find it in him to care anymore. He unlocks his phone and frowns when he notices an unseen message from his sister in his inbox. The message is short, but it catches Eddie’s attention.

“Isn’t he your friend Buck?!”

There is a link just underneath it and when Eddie clicks on it, his breath catches in his throat and his heart starts pounding hard against his chest. It’s a video. A video of that day. A video of the rig, collapsing, and burying him under thirty feet of earth in the process. Only the video doesn’t show only that. It also shows his coworkers’ reaction. It also shows Buck.

Buck

Buck, who collapses on the ground and completely falls to pieces. Buck, who screams his name and starts digging the earth with his bare hands. Buck, who bursts into tears and whose face is contorted with fear, rage and pain. Eddie watches him as he continues calling out his name in agony, he watches him as Bobby needs to physically restrain him to stop him from digging, and Eddie swears he can feel his heart cracked open at the sight.

The scene is devastating, heartbreaking, and the last seconds of the video only shows Buck, sitting on the ground, his head down, tears rolling down his face, as the rain continues pouring down on him.

By the time Eddie finishes watching the video, his hands are shaking and the room is spinning. His whole body is tense, buzzing with a nervous energy and Eddie closes his eyes fiercely but he can’t get the images out of his head. How can he? How can he when he had to sit through and watch his best-friend having a complete breakdown in a video with more than a million views? How can he when until then, he was so far up his own ass not to notice that Buck was hurting too? Not to notice that he wasn't the only one who ended up traumatized by this day?

He sits back straight on his bed, and leans his back against the headboard, running both of his hands through his hair a few times, ignoring how his heart pulses in his head, making it hurt.

He takes his phone in his hand and gets up, stepping out of his room and going down the stairs until he reaches the living-room. Here, he lets himself fall on the couch, rubbing his temples with his fingers, his eyes closed. In vain. It’s no use. It’s no use trying to get his breathing back to normal while the only thing he really wants is to see his best-friend with his own two eyes and make sure he’s okay.

“Can you come over?” He sends. It’s short and vague, but Eddie knows Buck keeps his phone in sound mode at all times just in case this kind of emergencies come up.

But is it an emergency? Eddie asks himself as he brings his knees to his chest, wrapping his arms around them. It’s not. Not really. But Buck’s answer still comes after just a few seconds.

“Be there in 15. You okay? Christopher?”

“We’re okay. Just need to see you.”

Eddie jumps out of the couch and starts pacing back and forth in the living-room, not knowing what to do with himself. He squats down and starts picking up every Lego bricks lying around on the carpet, on the coffee table under the sofa. Christopher was in the middle of building a (more than unstable) house before heading to bed and he seemed so tired from his school day Eddie didn’t have the heart to ask him to tidy. He’s in the middle of retrieving a brick which ended up under the carpet when he hears the distinct sound of someone opening the front door.

He whirls his head around and finds himself face to face with Buck who looks around the living-room in alarm, his eyes wide. His hair is disheveled and his shoes are mismatched and Eddie almost feels bad for waking him up in the middle of the night while they both have a 24 hours shift waiting for them in a few hours. His best-friend’s face softens when his eyes fall on him, and Eddie doesn’t waste any time to close the gap separating them and wrapping his arms around his neck to hold him close.

“Evan Buckley I swear to god you’re going to be the death of me.” He says, not thinking twice before burying his face in the crook of his best-friend’s neck. Buck seems taken aback for a few seconds, but he doesn’t question it and reciprocate the embrace with just as much vigor. “I’m sorry.” Eddie eventually says, grabbing his tee-shirt with his right hand.

“You’re sorry?” Buck repeats, his voiced filled with confusion. “About what?” He adds.

“God I’ve been so far up my own ass these past few days, haven’t I?” Eddie asks, taking a step back and placing a comforting hand on his shoulder, following his gaze until he’s sure Buck looks at him in the eye. His best-friend seems reluctant at first, almost as if he already knows where the conversation is going, but then he finally meets his gaze and Eddie’s look is so intense and he’s watching him with so much attention something in his face just breaks. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Tell you what, Eds?” Buck asks, but from the way his voice breaks, Eddie knows it’s just a way for him to try and take the conversation elsewhere.

“Buck.” Eddie says, and it’s a warning. We’re having that conversation whether you like it or not.

“Eddie, just- Don’t, alright?” Buck starts. “It’s okay. You’re okay. It’s all that matters.”

“I saw the video.” Eddie says, taking another step backwards until he sits on a kitchen chair, running his right hand through his hair.

“What video?” Buck says, his voice small, but sighs and looks down when Eddie maintains eye-contact. “Took you long enough.” He only adds, leaning against the fridge. “It was literally everywhere on the news. Big headlines too.” He says, letting out a humorless laugh.

“Buck-”

“But again, I’spose it’s fun to see a firefighter completely losing it after his best-friend has been buried thirty feet underground.” Buck cuts in, his voice hollow. “I guess it ‘entertains’ people just fine”

“Buck-” Eddie starts, but his friend is faster.

“As if I want to relive that moment, you know?” Buck goes on and his voice is louder now, more aggressive. “As if one time wasn’t enough.”

“Buck, I-”

“Eddie, you cut the damn line!” He exclaims and Eddie jumps with surprise at how raw and demanding his tone is. “You cut the damn line!” He repeats and a tear rolls down his left cheek. “And you know what the worst part is? The worst part is that I can’t even blame you for it! You wanted to save that kid… I mean, how can I blame you for wanting to save that kid, Eddie? I can’t. I would be a fucking hypocrite if I did, man. Cause I would have done the same thing if the roles were reversed.”

“It doesn’t mean you can’t be mad.” Eddie says, keeping his eyes down, incapable of meeting his best-friend’s gaze. “It doesn’t mean you can’t be angry.” He adds. “Hell, I know I would be.”

“I just- Eddie, did you ever stop for a second to imagine what it was like for me? I was pulling you out Eds. I was pulling you out and then the weight was just- the weight was just gone. You were gone.” He says through gritted teeth and Eddie darts his eyes towards him for just a second, but that’s still enough time for him to see the expression of complete agony and pure heartbreak on his best-friend’s face. Eddie looks away just as fast and sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose with his fingers.

“But that’s not even the worst part, oh no.” Buck goes on and Eddie knows this one is on a roll. He’s determined and he won’t stop until he got everything off his chest. “ Because then this damn rig just collapsed and I- I couldn’t get you out, I- You were… You were buried, Eds. You were buried and I swear to god I would have dug the whole thing with my bare hands if I had to.”

“I know you would’ve.” Eddie only says, staring at Buck, his eyes filled with the tears he’s been trying to hold back for the past fifteen minutes. “I know you would’ve.”

“I didn’t give up on you.” Buck answers, as if he’s trying to justify his actions in a courtroom. “You’ve got to know that, alright?” He repeats. “I didn’t give up on you. Even when people were trying to convince me that there was no way you would have survived that, I didn’t- I didn’t give up on you.”

“Hey, hey, I know.” Eddie instantly reassures him, getting up and closing the gap between them. “I know.” He repeats, cupping Buck’s cheeks with his hands. “You didn’t give up.”

“I didn’t give up.” Buck nods, his lips quivering.

“Buck, do you think- do you think I’m mad at you because you didn’t try hard enough?” Eddie manages to articulate, his fingers playing with the roots of Buck’s hair. “How could you have tried any harder?” Eddie adds, letting out a nervous laugh. “For Christ’s sake Evan, you told me yourself you were ready to dig the whole thing by hands. There’s nothing you could have done. You hear me?”

Buck frantically nods and Eddie sighs, wrapping his right arm around his neck to pull him forward. Buck’s whole body tenses and it’s only when his shoulders start shaking that Eddie realizes his best-friend is full-on sobbing against him, his tears wetting his white tee-shirt. Buck rests his forehead on his shoulder and Eddie simply runs his left hand through his hair while the other traces small patterns on his back, holding him tight. He presses his lips on his hair, closing his eyes fiercely for a few seconds while throwing his head backwards, looking up at the ceiling.

“I’m sorry.” Buck says against him. “Here I am again, making the whole thing about me while you’re the one who’ve been buried underground.”

“Don’t be stupid Buck, I’m the one who should apologize here. I was so focused on my pain and the nightmares that I-”

“Nightmares?” Buck whirls his head up to meet his eyes. “You have nightmares about the well?” He asks, his eyes full of concern, and Eddie lets out an incredulous laugh.

“Yeah but that’s not the point, Buck.” He says, dismissing his concern with a hand’s gesture. “I should have seen you were hurting. I’m sorry.” He adds. “And yes I have nightmares but Buck you need to know you’re the only reason I got out. You and Christopher? I couldn’t have done it without you guys. Wouldn’t have done it. But I promised myself I’ll always find my way back home. So I did.”

Eddie cradles his chin with his left hand, forcing him to look up.

“That… That was sappy as hell, man.” Buck tries and Eddie snorts, placing his hand on his cheek to make him look away.

“Says the one who was ready to dig thirty feet of wet earth with his bare hands.” He says playfully and then Buck does this thing again where he looks down with a shy smile and Eddie’s heart just melts at the sight.

When Buck lifts his gaze again, their lips are only separated by a few inches of space and Eddie’s head is spinning. He stays there, motionless, not knowing whether he should finally gives in to years of pining and unresolved tension. But then, Buck’s eyes dart towards his lips and all his good sense goes up in smoke. Eddie looks at him for permission and when Buck nods, he places his hand on the back of his neck and presses their lips together. It doesn’t last long. It’s brief, and when Eddie takes a step back, Buck’s lips chase his own a second time and he only smiles and complies happily.

This time, the kiss is more heated and Buck’s hands find their way on the back of Eddie’s neck, biting his lower lip to demand access to his mouth. Eddie smiles against his mouth and runs both of his hands through his hair, bringing him closer. This earns him a small whimper from Buck and Eddie only kisses him harder, pressing his best-friend’s body against the fridge and sliding his hand underneath his tee-shirt.

“God I can’t believe we waited three years to do that.” Buck says Eddie huffs out a laugh against his lips.

“Well I mean you were a bit slow on the uptake.” Eddie teases him.

“Oh fuck off.” Buck taps him on the head playfully. “You know I couldn’t just- I had to be sure.”

“I know.” Eddie says, his voice soft.

“I couldn’t do the first move. I had to wait for… I had to wait for you to do it. Even if I knew that you- because I knew. Of course I knew. But-”

“Hey.” Eddie cuts him off by cupping his cheeks with his hands. “I know.” He repeats. “Alright then Evan. Let’s get you to bed.”

“Lead the way, Edmundo.”

“Not my name.” Eddie says with a smile, taking his hand in his to guide him towards the bedroom.

“Sorry. Eduardo.”

“Still not my name, man."

"Diaz?"

"That's it, you’re sleeping on the damn couch, Buckley.” Eddie warns but the smile on his face betrays him.

“Really? You would make me sleep on the couch? The guy who was ready to dig 30 feet of wet earth with his bare han-”

“Oh my god will you shut up?” Eddie whispers loudly, being careful not to wake up Christopher fast asleep in the adjoining room.

“Make me.” Buck says, a hint of amusement in his voice and Eddie?

Well Eddie wastes no time to crash their lips together another time.

#buddie #buddie fic #9-1-1 #Eddie Begins #Evan Buckley #Eddie diaz #911 #buck x eddie

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evil-slytherin-queen · 3 years

Text

His Touch

WARNING: mentions of blood, panic/anxiety attack, mentions of murder/death, mentions of physical/psychological torture, mentions of violence, mentions of not eating enough/lowkey Draco having an ED, self-hatred, mentions of self-harm

a/n I really don’t think this is super graphic or anything but you never know what can trigger you, so pretty please be careful and safe while reading.

Sometimes Draco wonders why he lets him touch him. How he can stand the sight of him. How it doesn't make him want to throw every Unforgivable he could think of at Draco.

He wonders.

But he never asks.

He's too afraid of the answer.

Too afraid of what it could mean.

Too afraid it might make him realize his mistake and make him leave. Make him hate Draco. He doesn't believe he would survive that. Doesn't believe he would want to.

That night he scrubs Draco's hands clean twice. Golden-bronze hands, rough and strong, and impossibly gentle moving Draco's pale shaking ones under the faucet. His look so small in comparison. Weak. Useless. He washes in between Draco's fingers, under his nails, out to his wrists. Let's the water wash away the pain and misery and death from his palms. Till the water runs clear again. Till it is all gone. Except it isn't.

And Draco can still see the blood.

Can see it when he shuts his eyes or if he blinks too quickly. Can feel it under his nails, and between his fingers like it has sunken into his pores. Like it has become a part of him. Draco offhandedly thinks he'd like to rip it out, tear into himself to make it leave his body. It's an absent thought and it would probably horrify him in any other circumstance.

But he won't.

He knows that would only upset him further, would make him cry, and hold Draco close apologizing like it was his fault, even though it wasn't. He always was such a martyr. And even though Draco doesn't care right now he will later. He'll care too much and he'll regret it. So he doesn't.

He's been staring from behind those stupid and awfully crooked spectacles. His eyes too green, too full of concern and trust and-and something Draco won't admit to himself. He's not ready to yet. It's too dangerous to let himself have that right now. If he does he won't be able to do what he has to, what he needs to.

He expects Draco to drop his occlumency shields. But he doesn't. He can't. If Draco lets himself feel this it will kill him. He knows it will.

Draco knows if he lets the barriers between his emotions and what he's just done down he will fall apart. Knows he won't be able to do anything other than shake and sob into solid warm arms and tell the truth. Tell him that he's disgusting and dirty and vile. That he is ruined.

And he can't. He just can't.

Except he has to. They both know he does. And it's dreadful.

"Come on, my darling. My sweet love, my Draco. I need you to come back to me." He whispers it like if he says it any louder it will break him. And maybe it would. Draco knows when he goes blank like this it hurts him. He remembers how his pain hurts Draco in return. He doesn't want to feel that. Can't even bring himself to think his name, that might bring all of his walls crumbling down without his permission.

That would be damaging and if he isn't careful it could rip a hole into his mind and leave him in a not all there sort of limbo. Although there has to be some sort of freedom in delusion and insanity, at least then he wouldn't remember. But then he recalls Longbottom's parents and the way they can't even feed themselves and he decides maybe that isn't the way to go.

Draco shakes his head, face carefully vacant, eyes glazed over as he stares past him. It's too hard to look him in the eye and keep everything perfectly in place.

"No. It will hurt." Draco says it simply, his voice sounds foreign to himself. Draco knows it will sound lifeless and wrong to him. Right now he doesn't care. He watches how the flames flicker in the fireplace behind him, how the Room of Requirement chose an oddly cosey rendition of the Gryffindor common room. If he could feel right now, it might make him laugh. He thinks it might be funny, ironic in some way he can't process currently.

Warm hands touch his neck. They feel hot, like the sun. Draco knows they're not his own. He's perpetually cold now thanks to Aunt Bella's Cruciatus Curse training. And even if he can't look at his hands right now without losing his manufactured calm he knows they're still hanging by his sides, trembling. The hands burn a trail up his neck, brushing calloused thumbs under his jaw, trailing them up and over his cheekbones till they're cupping his face softly.

He can physically feel wetness hitting his cheeks, it makes his mouth twitch down, eyebrows scrunch a little. That shouldn't be happening.

"You're crying." He says the warm hands brush the tears away gingerly. And he can feel the way his eyes watch him, waiting. He expects it to happen soon. Expects Draco to break under the heavy weight of despair.

"I shouldn't be."

"But you are."

Draco shouldn't be able to cry. His shields are slipping and he knows it. He hates it. He doesn't reach a hand up to wipe them away. He lets himself be kissed on the forehead. Let's himself be pulled over towards the fire and cradled into a warm embrace. Draco's tucked against a scorching body on the sofa and a blazing fire just beside them. He should be burning alive but he still feels ice cold.

Deft fingers run through his hair. It doesn't look how it used to, it's taken on a grey pallor and waxy feeling ever since the summer before sixth year. It's the stress, the bad eating habits. It's not his fault he can't keep food down. It's the nightmares, the way Aunt Bella thought it fun to poison his food every so often for giggles. Draco misses how it used to look. All white blonde and shiny. He misses how soft and feathery it used to feel ever since he'd quit slicking it back with those charms his father had insisted he use. He supposes that's what happens when you become a child soldier, a spy. Things don't get to stay nice or pretty or good.

Salazar.

He shouldn't be able to miss that right now.

He's scared. So, so scared. He isn't ready. He'll never be ready. Not for this. Draco tells him so.

"I can't do this."

Draco can feel his gaze on him filled with its usual encouragement and tenderness. He presses a kiss to Draco's hair.

"You can."

"I'll die."

"You won't. I've got you, my darling, my Draco. I'm here, just let go. I'll keep you safe." He speaks it like a promise and the word safe is what does Draco in. It's all he wants. All he's wanted for a long time. Safety.

He can already feel the occlumency shields cracking and he lets them slide away, a violent sob clawing its way out of his throat. It leaves his mouth and makes him feel raw and exposed. It's heart-wrenching and frightening how broken he sounds. And it hurts.

Because now he can feel everything.

Disgust.

Regret.

Self-loathing.

Fear.

Grief.

Guilt.

Shame

Weak.

But mostly he just feels useless and sorry so very sorry.

And he feels like he's suffocating like he's dying. Like he'll never breathe again. Tears flood his vision and it's revolting and it makes him feel sick. And he feels like a monster.

He tries to get away from him, scrambles off of his broad chest, and tries to pull far far away. Draco doesn't deserve to touch someone so good with his hands that have hurt and maimed and-and killed.

But he won't let him, won't let him get more than a few centimetres away. Grabs his wrists to stop him from leaving, till he's stuck straddling him, wrists clutched into hot palms.

"No. You don't run away. You don't run from me, never me. Tell me what happened."

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" He doesn't recognize his own voice for a moment, it doesn't sound like him. It sounds hysterical and far away and Merlin, everything hurts. He shakes his head violently back and forth. He doesn't want to tell him. He tries to pull his hands out of his grip to rip at his own hair. He doesn't deserve this comfort not after what he just did. He shouldn't have taken down his nicely built walls that kept him perfectly in check. He should have just buried these feelings in with the others. Should've let someone Obliviate him instead of having to deal with it. This feels like dying.

"Draco. Draco! Stop!" He says it forcefully, his hands tightening around his wrists and it breaks him out of his hysteria. Draco freezes, he knows that tone of voice too well. It startles him into silent tears instead of the loud sobbing he had been doing. He doesn't want to hurt him too. And if he hurts himself and carries on like this it will hurt him.

"Harry," He chokes the name out painfully and looks at him through watery eyes, "I'm sorry."

Harry frowns and pulls Draco's hands towards his lips. Draco feels the horror wash over him before Harry gets the chance to finish what he's doing.

"STOP!" He yells the word frantically, Harry halts his movements.

"Please," Draco begs weakly, "Please, they're dirty. I-I hurt, I k-killed a-a child. A help-helpless child. Please don't. Please."

Harry looks at him firmly, fiercely, locks him in with a determined glint in his green eyes. He pulls each of Draco’s hands to his lips, one at a time, and kisses his palms, his fingertips, the back of his hands, his wrists. Each press of his lips makes Draco gasp and cry like he's in pain. Maybe he is, he can't tell anymore. Harry does it with delicate care like he hadn't just washed blood off of them, like they hadn't just done foul, nasty, unforgivable things.

By the time he stops, Draco has his eyes twisted shut painfully. He can't watch as Harry worships hands that have torn people's, children's flesh and blood from their bodies. He can't bear it.

"Look at me, my love."

He doesn't.

"Look at me, Draco."

A plea. his voice bordering on begging. This time he does. Harry should never have to beg someone so monstrous for anything, it's wrong.

Harry's eyes are so beautiful. Draco hasn't seen anything green and living in so long not since the Death Eaters had come to Hogwarts and scorched the surrounding lands. They remind him of the grass in the spring and the leaves on the big oak trees in the summer, of emeralds and pine. They remind him of something soft and comfortable and safe. They remind him of Harry and how much he shouldn't and can't love him right now. Not without having to kill little pieces of himself for hurting someone so good and beautiful and kind with his dirty and foul being.

And there are tears in his eyes again. Draco can feel them as they fall down his cheeks. Bloody fucking hell. A piteous sound comes out of his mouth as he tries to catch his breath. He can't.

Harry pulls his inconsequential and fragile-looking hands, a dangerous deception seeing as what they're capable of, down against his chest. The action makes Draco flinch. He puts his large and callous and warm ones over top of them keeping them pressed into his shirt till he can feel Harry's heartbeat. It unconsciously soothes him. And he hates himself a little for relaxing even the slightest after he did something so heinous.

"You are not your actions. You are not what you were forced to do to survive, just as I am not my actions or my failures. You, Draco, are not to blame for the lives you could not save, just as I am not to blame for the death of those who fought to protect me. If I'm not allowed to blame myself for the casualties of a war I never asked for then neither are you. Are we clear, my love?"

His words are calm and soft-spoken but the way his eyes are fixed on Draco makes them so much more intense and concrete. And he isn't wrong. Draco had had the same conversation with him before. But that time he had been the one to hold Harry as he cried over the death of Sirius Black, of Dumbledore, of Cedric Diggory, of Alastor Moody and blamed himself for them all. But it's different. Those were all good people who lost their lives to Death Eaters and Draco, Draco is a Death Eater doing what they do best. Hurt others. End lives. It is not the same.

"It's-but that's different. They-you can't control-"

"It's not. I can't control what others do for me just like you can't control what's done to you," Harry says letting one hand reach up and brush tears from Draco’s cheek, he doesn't flinch this time, "I know Bellatrix and the Carrows force you to watch these things. You wouldn't unless you had to. I know you would stop them if you could. But you can't. Not yet. And I know it hurts every time you have to move their bodies, every time you try to revive them but you can't. I know. And I'm sorry."

And he's right. Draco would kill them and every other nasty Death Eater if he could. He would fight them with everything he had if he could. Throw every dark and dangerous curse that Aunt Bella taught him right back at her and revel in her suffering for what they did. Draco can feel the anger thrum under his skin but it simmers down into anguish again with the way Harry sighs. The way his pretty face smiles at him mournfully.

"I wish you hadn't done this, Draco. I wish you didn't have to watch so many die by their hands. I wish you never had to get this," Harry traces his fingers along the inside of Draco’s left wrist.

It's stained with the Dark Mark and scars from where he's tried to scratch off his own skin. It's shameful, and it makes Draco want to pull away again. He doesn't though. He's more here than he was before. More in his body and less in his mind. Harry's heartbeat always seems to bring him back faster than anything else. It's why they send him to get information and not someone else. And they promised never to run from each other. He isn't going to break that promise now.

"I'm sorry," Draco whispers back, he's stopped crying now. He's ashamed. He always is after he's had an episode like this. He can't help it no matter how delicate and kind and sweetly Harry handles them.

"Draco? My love? Are you all the way back with me?" Harry sounds hopeful, his eyebrows scrunch in question, and it makes Draco's heart clench. He's missed him. He hasn't seen Harry in three weeks. It's been too long. This war has been too long. He hasn't properly looked at him yet. And he is still beautiful, still so painfully open despite who Draco is.

But he looks tired. The bags under his eyes are darker, deeper, and his skin is more sallow. He's paler than he once was, his brown skin no longer looks dusted in gold and sunlight but his hair is the same disaster of dark raven curls. It never changes even when the rest of him does.

Draco carefully pulls his hands from Harry's grasp and slides them up along his body. He traces Harry's broad shoulders, brushes his fingers along his too-defined collar bones. He isn't eating enough either, none of them are. Draco skims them up to Harry's neck and cups his jaw with oddly still hands. He's almost always trembling now. But not with Harry around, never when he's around.

He smoothes out the wrinkles in between Harry's brows with a swipe of his thumb. And places a kiss there too. He hates to see him so exhausted with the weight of the world on his shoulders. He should have noticed sooner.

"Yes. I'm back, Harry, my darling. I'm sorry it took so long tonight."

And in spite of the circumstances, Harry smiles at Draco. He smiles like Draco hung the sun, the moon, and all the stars. Draco can't help but think that Harry is the one who should be smiled at in that way. He's the one who will save them all as much as Draco hates the very idea of him having to. It should have never been his job in the first place. He was-is only a child.

"S'alright, not your fault. Want to tell me what actually happened? I know you never hurt any of them, I know it's never you. Tell me what they made you watch."

Draco sighs and leans forward till his head rests against Harry's, eyes closed. He strokes his thumbs over Harry's jaw. He needs to shave, Draco can feel the stubble growing in again. It makes him smile faintly, remembering the first time Harry had let Draco shave his face for him. It felt like a lifetime ago when in reality it was a little over a year ago.

He feels Harry's hands trail down to his thighs straddling him and then up to hold his hips. Harry draws circles into his skin with calloused thumbs. It's soothing in a way that Draco still feels he doesn't deserve but he lets him anyway. He's too weak to resist any comfort given to him.

"They said if he liked muggles so much they would show him how vile and primitive they were," His voice shakes as he speaks and he feels sick and dirty all over, "How-how d-dangerous. They-they cut him to pieces, Harry. I couldn't-I couldn't help him."

Tears wet his face, trail down his cheeks in torrents. He opens his eyes to blink them away. It doesn't work. His hands tremble violently and he tries to draw away from Harry. He doesn't want to hurt him on accident, doesn't want to scare him. He knows Harry won't let him go far so he settles for putting his hands over Harry's heart again, leaving their heads bent together. At least this way he won't accidentally scratch his face with his shaking hands.

Harry frowns at the action but doesn't stop him. Instead, he rests his hands over top Draco's again. He strokes the back of his hands. He says nothing as Draco shuts his eyes and learns to breathe again. And when he's finally caught his breath, Harry speaks. His voice is tender and sweet, his eyes no doubt the same.

"Who, Draco?"

"His name is Leonidas Baros. The name's Greek. It means lion strength," Draco laughs wetly through the new wave of tears that cascade down his cheeks, "Not a bad name for a first-year Gryffindor is it?"

"It's a good name," Harry murmurs.

Draco laughs again but it comes out more of a wet sob than anything else. He keeps his eyes closed, it makes talking easier. The feeling of Harry's skin against his own urges him to continue.

"It is. Was." -Draco chokes a little at the thought- "It suited him so well too. Little muggle-born Leo with his loud mouth and his stupid bravery. He reminds-reminded me of you."

Draco gets quiet after that. He gets caught in the memory of this little eleven-year-old boy with dark hair and fierce eyes storming up to him in the corridor in defence of his friends. He hadn't drawn his wand but held up his fists instead and called Draco a bully, an arsehole, a bloody racist bigot. Told him off for being a coward for having something so 'bloody brilliant’ and wasting it on following 'Magical Hitler' and being a 'Nazi'. Leo always was loud and reckless in his acts of defiance and his screaming had caught the attention of the Carrows. They told Draco either he could punish him or they would, so he had grabbed Leo by his robe front and dragged him into the nearest classroom shouting and struggling and cursing the whole way there.

'Listen to me, brat!' Draco had hissed once the door had shut behind them and Leo continued to struggle, 'Listen! I am a bully and a bigot and all those other things, I'm probably even whatever those bloody muggle terms were but you need to listen! I have to make it look like I've punished you. So I'm going to glamour you with all sorts of cuts and bruises and you're going to go out there shivering and shaking and crying if you bloody well must and put on the best-damned show they've ever seen. Do you understand me?'

'My name's Leonidas, not brat. And why should I?' He'd spat back, fury in his eyes, utter revulsion and hatred. It had sent a strange pang of shame and pride through Draco's body. He'd never had the boldness to do anything so blatantly defiant. Then he'd seen the boys tie. It was red and gold and an act of defiance in and of itself. A flash of Harry's face had crossed his mind and he knew he needed to protect the insufferable brat causing such trouble.

'Because if you don't I'm sure they'll be more than happy to find someone less averse to tormenting children. Now, do we have an agreement or would you rather the Carrows play with you and your little friends?'

'Fine. But I don't like you.' He'd growled arms folded over his chest but Draco could see the fear at the mention of the Carrows.

'Oddly enough, I feel the same,' Draco said flatly, an irritated look on his face as he drew up his wand, 'Now, let's make this believable, Leonidas, was it? Scream.'

"Hey, hey, my sweet love, come back to me. Where did you go? What happened?" Harry murmurs kissing the corners of his mouth. Bringing him back to his body and out of his memories.

"Sorry," Draco whispers against his lips, brings his hands up, and strokes the sides of Harry's face to remind himself of where he is, "I'm wasting time. But, he didn't deserve this. None of them did. He deserved better, they all do."

"Yes, they do. As do you. We all deserve better than this war. And you aren't wasting anything, we've got all night."

Harry's hands latch back onto his hips. His fingers pet the soft skin on his midriff making him shiver. He's missed being touched without being hurt. No one else is allowed this close to him without a serious fight. Everyone else is a threat. He hopes when this is all over and it will end, one way or another, that he will be able to allow others near him again.

He misses the closeness of it. That's why he and Harry are sharing the same air right now. It's why he can't bring himself to pull away from where their heads are bent together, lips grazing over each other, breath mingling.

"Still, it's selfish. The others could be in here hiding from-"

Harry cuts him off with a kiss. It's slow and soft and mournful. A lot of what they do now feels that way. It feels as though they're always grieving for the carefree love they never got to have.

"They will be just as safe at Aberforth’s as they would be here. It's not selfish. You need this," -Draco pulls away to give him a look- "No don't look at me like that, Draco."

"You just wanted to see me. Don't lie to me and say that isn't what this is. I miss you too but-"

Harry interrupts him with another kiss. It should be a sin how easily that can make Draco fall quiet. It's an unfair tactic.

"Yes," Harry says, bumping their noses together, "A part of me just wants to be with you for the sake of being with you, but I also know that if you're weighed down by all that you've seen you won't be able to feed us as much information. That is why this is not a waste and it is not selfish. Okay?"

The soft earnestness in his pretty green eyes halts all sorts of arguments from leaving his mouth. Draco sighs and relents.

"All right."

Harry smiles at him easily and Draco melts just a little at the sight. He pecks him on the lips once more before letting his body sink further into Harry's embrace. Till he's lying directly on top of him their legs intertwined and his head and hands resting on Harry's chest.

Draco listens to Harry's steady breathing and the familiar sound of his heartbeat. He hasn't felt this calm in months. He can't wait for this war to be over.

They stay that way for a long while, Harry's hands rubbing soothing lines up and down his back. Until Harry's breathing evens out and Draco can't help but to shift up and gaze at his sleeping lover's face.

He is beautiful in a devastating way. It makes Draco's heart lock up with all sorts of mushy feelings neither of them has time for. He smiles a small fond thing as he brushes an errant curl out of his face.

"I love you, my Harry, my darling."

Draco whispers it like a secret, kissing him on the forehead, and then settles himself back down against his broad chest.

And a small part of Draco still wonders why Harry lets him --the monster, the Death Eater, the coward-- touch him, the sun, the Savior, the brave.

But he never asks because he knows the answer.

Knows that Harry will never leave him.

Knows that they will never run from each other.

Knows that if he ever asks, Harry will frown and get that painfully endearing confused look on his face and answer back with a question of his own.

"Why wouldn't I? I love you, Draco."

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penguinwithitsarseonfire · 4 years

Text

It’s Nice to Have a Friend

Pairing: Tenth Doctor x Reader

Word Count: 1,839

Warnings: None

Summary: You and Rose apply makeup before The Doctors self proclaimed “theatre event” that he’s taking you to. When the Doctor comes in to complain about the amount of time you’ve taken, you and Rose pull a small prank on him. That’s it, that’s the plot.

A/N: This was completely self indulgent, I've wanted to be Rose’s best friend since I was 9, so that’s basically all this is.

You hummed along to the music playing softly in the background. It had been a fair while since you had listened to early 2000’s music; travelling on the TARDIS didn’t leave much time for nostalgia, what with the different planets, the aliens, and completely different time periods from when your existence wasn’t even a sparing thought.

Still though, it was nice to take a break every now and again.

“It’s not really nostalgia though, is it,” Rose said from beside you after you brought it up. “I mean, this song’s only a year or so old. We used to play it in the shop.”

“Before it blew up.”

“Ha yeah,” Rose grinned. “Before it blew up.”

“Although,” you raised an eyebrow at her and reiterated the year you were from. “It’s definitely nostalgia.”

Rose rolled her eyes good naturedly, then pointed to the vanity next to you. “Can you pass the eyeliner over?”

You hummed and reached over to the one she was pointing at; it was an eyeliner pencil, a black one with a little sharpener on the lid.

It sat on a vanity made of warm mahogany wood, among a myriad of makeup from foundations, eye shadow palettes, lipsticks, and rouge.

Beside it and in front of you and Rose was a large mirror that ran from the floor to the ceiling, on the only solid wall in the TARDIS’ wardrobe. You and Rose liked to think The TARDIS had made the area specially for you both, so you could do your makeup together.

You plopped back down onto the floor and passed the eyeliner to Rose, who was sitting cross legged and doing the finishing touched to her foundation.

You were poised to go to a theatre event - what it was exactly, the Doctor wouldn’t tell you. It didn’t matter if you often wore makeup often or not, right now, you were feeling it, and you figured a theatre event was a nice opportunity to change things up a bit.

You frowned at the eye shadow palette in front of you, trying to work out which colours would blend the best and how you could actually use it.

You jumped as one of your favourite songs from the early 2000’s began playing, turning to Rose with a grin. She was looking at you with an equally bright smile, her right eye only half painted with the eyeliner pencil left dangling in her hand. Almost instinctually you both broke out into song, singing along terribly.

Your voice cracked at one of the high notes, and Rose laughed, shaking you lightly as she continued. The make-up was forgotten as the pair of you danced, moving in a way that was particularly reminiscent of some sort of Tik Tok routine.

Not that you would tell Rose that particular tidbit, it was a bit early to explain Tik Tok to her.

At the end of the chorus Rose stumbled with her words over the lyrics. It was so surprising that it shocked you out of your exuberance, and the pair of you were left giggling on the floor. The song played in the background, a harmony to your laughter.

The Doctor cleared his throat, and you reached over in between your laughter to turn the music down. From this angle you could see him clearly, he was leaning against a poll behind you, sans coat, with only two of the buttons on his pinstripe suit done up.

You gazed at Rose, who raised her eyebrow at you and smirked playfully. “Did’ja need us Doctor?” She turned back to the mirror, applying her eyeliner and trying to stifle her laughter.

“Dunno,” he said. You looked up at his reflection in the mirror in front of you, locking eyes with you, and he winked, before heaving himself off the poll. “You two’ve been taking an awful long time.”

“What,” you said, and passed Rose her mascara wand, placing the eye shadow back onto the shelf. You’d keep things more natural and match Rose. “You’ve been bored?”

“What – me? Nah, I’m never bored.”

You let out a brief laugh. “Ah yep, that’s completely accurate.”

“Well, again,” The Doctor said. “You both have been gone for a while.”

Rose snorted and picked up your phone, glancing at the display. “We’ve only been about 20 minutes. You’re getting more impatient by the day.”

“Impatient, oh now that’s nonsense,” he drawled and crouched down behind you both. “Now, what are we doing here?”

You waved your eyeliner pen in front of him, and then began drawing on a wing. “You said theatre event so here we are,” you gestured at you and Rose with your free hand. “Getting ready for a theatre event.”

Rose said her thanks for the mascara and began applying her first coat, chewing on her lip as she did so.

You glanced at her out of the corner of your eye then back at your reflection as you filled your eyeliner in, before starting on your other eye. “How many coats of that do you do anyway?”

Rose hummed. “Dunno, however many I need until I think it looks good.”

You chuckled. It was just so early 2000’s of her. Sometimes, your eyelids looked heavy just looking at her eyelashes.

Rose looked at you aghast. “What’s funny?”

“Nothing, nothing at all,” you poked your tongue to your teeth as you smiled at her reflection in the mirror. “I was just thinking of makeup trends, how things change.”

“Y’know sometimes, you can be as cryptic as him,” she gestured to The Doctor with her head for good measure, and set out a couple different shades of rouge as the next coat of mascara dried.

The Doctor gawped. “When am I ever cryptic?”

Both you and Rose paused what you were doing so you could stare down his reflection in the mirror.

“Alright fine,�� he relented. “I guess sometimes I change the topic of a conversation.” The Doctor cocked his head to the side, watching you both thoughtfully as the pair of you continued on with your makeup. “Why do you both always need to do this, anyway?"

Rose was applying another coat of mascara when she replied. "Come off, you're not having a go at us for wearing makeup now, are you?"

"No, no, not at all, just curious really. I should start factoring this extra time in when I take you two places, because blimey you take a while.” He looked towards the vanity. "And that's a fair amount of it all too, do you really use all of that?"

You stuck your eyeliner pen out as if it were a rod. “Says the man with a collection of hair gel for his gravity defying hair – oh, and could you pass me those eyelashes over there?"

You gestured to the vanity and The Doctor’s gaze followed.

“Eyelashes,” he drawled, standing up and meandering over. You watched his reflection as his hands danced over the various products, until he landed on the pair of false lashes you’d been hoping to apply. He lifted it up, meeting your gaze through the mirror. “These ones?”

You hummed and made a grabbing motion with your hands. “Yeah, thanks.”

The Doctor resumed his crouched position behind you and Rose, and passed you the small box. Your fingers brushed over his lightly as you grabbed the small parcel. You felt a jolt run up through your fingers and up your arm and heard his breath hitch slightly. You took the box out of his grasp and swallowed, ignoring whatever that was.

“False eyelashes,” The doctor grinned, and ran his fingers over his cheek. You tried not think about why he was doing that, it was awfully distracting. “You humans I swear sometimes you do the strangest things. It’s bloody brilliant.”

Rose grinned, and locked eyes with you, holding up the her blush compact and a brush. She nodded her head to the Doctor and you returned her grin, giving her subtle thumbs up.

“It’s not that strange,” you said, distracting the Doctor so he wasn’t watching what Rose was doing. “It’s basically just experimentation, or just making yourself feel prettier.”

Rose swooped in, poking some of her chosen blush onto The Doctors nose. “You could probably do with some pretty-ing up every now and again yourself.”

He scrunched his face up in protest.

You snorted, laughing at The Doctors reaction, and letting the magnetic eyelashes clip onto your eyes. You blinked a couple of times, letting your eyes adjust to the added weight.

Rose looked to you with a frown. “Wait, don’t you need glue with that?”

You winked at her. “They’re magnetic.”

“Could say the same about you,” The Doctor grinned that ever so charming smile at you, the one that would make you all flustered if you didn’t know any better.

You let a solitary bark of laughter. “That was a terrible pun. It’s a wonder anyone ever takes you seriously,” you grinned to match him. “You look sunburnt, by the way.”

Rose laughed and The Doctor’s hand flew to cover his nose. “Oi, that wasn’t necessary!”

He rubbed at his nose furiously and Rose fell into a pit of laughter. “I ‘spose I could have chosen a different colour.”

“Well Rose,” you eyed the palette, then turned back to her. “It looks great on you.”

The Doctor hummed, pulling his hand away. The rouge was gone. “Maybe I’m just not meant to be ‘pretty-ed up’ like the pair of you.”

“Oh,” you drawled. “So we’re meant to be ‘pretty-ed up’ then? Is that it?”

The Doctor spluttered, his eyes growing like saucers. “What? No, that’s – that’s not what I meant at all, you’ve always been pretty, still are of course, with or without the,” he gestured at your face. “Well, you know.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Are you alright, Doctor?”

Rose met your eyes and smirked playfully. “Looks like someone is a little bit flustered.”

The Doctor jumped up, suddenly, as if eager to get a move on. “Well come on you two, this is a time machine, we haven’t got all day!”

You frowned for a moment. “I think that’s the exact opposite of what the phrase ‘time machine’ suggests.”

Rose laughed, sticking out her hand for you to take. “Let’s humour him, shall we.”

“Oh I’m standing right here,” The Doctor said and turned around to take off. He spun back round just as fast, and met your gaze. “And flustered – me? Never,” he tapped against his temple. “I’ve always got a plan up in here.”

He gave you both a cheeky wave and shot off again, giving you no time at all to process what the hell he just said.

You clutched against Rose with one hand, fumbling as you placed the false lashes box back on the vanity. “What do you mean you’ve got a plan?” You called after him. “A plan for what?”

Rose just laughed beside you, and tugged you along. “Well come on, let’s find out then!”

A/N: This isn’t really what I wanted to post this week, but I haven’t had time to write anything new so here’s something from the drafts. I hope you enjoyed it!

#the doctor x reader #tenth doctor imagine #10th doctor x reader #tenth doctor x reader #10th doctor #Rose Tyler

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hecallsmehischild · 3 years

Text

Recent Media Consumed

Books

The Road to Wigan Pier by George Orwell. First, I actually appreciated the foreward to the “Left Book Club” copy, even though it says that anyone who is not a member should disregard it. It gave an interesting rebuttal to parts of the book. That aside, I’m not totally sure what to make of the book. On the level of descriptive writing, I rarely find something this richly penned. But it’s loaded with concepts and lingo and even a monetary system I’m unfamiliar with, and that hampers my understanding of the points. I get the general gist, but all the finer points are very lost on me, simply because I’m an American millennial.

The Subtle Art of Not Giving A F*ck by Mark Manson. I’ve seen the “F*ck” series titles floating around here and there, and I’m intrigued by a couple of them. The idea of this one is that people give way too many f*cks about everything, and that you really need to pick where you give your f*cks in life and never give a f*ck about anything that doesn’t line up with your values (in a nutshell). It’s an easy and interesting read. It’s interesting to me that, in the wake of what I hear was many years of positive-mood and high self-esteem type self help books (most of which I’ve only heard of and never read, were they before my time?), we’re getting a backlash of “Yes, life sucks. Yes, life has pain. Dealing with pain and failure appropriately is a part of life. Accept that, or lose yourself to complete entitlement” type self-help books. I’m curious what this trend produces in people over time. I’d also like to highlight that this book has the best discussion of dividing “fault” and “responsibility” that I’ve ever read.

Shows

Loki. WHAT EVEN. WHAT EVEN. WHAT. WHAT THE. WHAT THE. FRESH… THE FRICK FRACK PADDYWHACK???!!!

Mushi-shi. So, turns out the first time I watched this I somehow started on Season 2, and my source cut out before the season end… no wonder I was pretty confused. So I started re-watching this and… I remember how incredibly unsettling this anime is. It’s equal parts gentle wonder and soft horror, a blend that is very difficult to describe unless you’ve seen it. Much like Mushi themselves, eh? I think I’ll balance this out by ending each watch session with an episode of Log Horizon rewatch. That’ll keep the emotional balance intact.

Claymore. I ended up dropping this one halfway through. It has an interesting concept, but the “things that bug me” points mounted pretty fast. In the early episodes, everything is so dark that it’s hard to see what’s going on. There’s a huge amount of monologuing and info-dumping IN monologue, and this goes on even mid-fight, and even CALMLY mid-fight. Yes, this isn’t the only anime that does this, but it decreases my enjoyment. It’s difficult to take the story seriously when the big bad yells, “Why can’t I defeat you?” to the weakest-but-somehow-also-the-strongest member of a team, and then have a colleague of the team member calmly explain to the big bad exactly why he’s unable to land a blow, then they take off his head together. This show has a lot of that sort of thing. I’ll read up on how the series ended, not interested in slogging through the other half.

Elfen Lied. This is a re-re-rewatch for me. I stumbled on this anime when I was newly inducted into anime-watching and, well... given that Princess Tutu was my very first anime, this one was a real shock to my system at first. By all accounts I should have dropped it and run screaming at the time, but I couldn’t. There was something about the sheer tragedy of the story that called to me. Plus it was VERY short. So I returned to it from time to time. Now that I’ve developed more of a feel for what I do and don’t like in a story, how does this hold up? The relationships are terrible, imo, and the whole thing about diclonius is never explained enough (and I still don't understand the ending) but it's STILL hard not to be pulled in by the sheer tragedy of the series.

Movies

300. I haven’t seen this movie since college. Is it weird how much I enjoyed it as a romp? Yes, there’s death and tragedy, but the dry humor and utter gung-ho-edness of it is infectious. It’s a good flick, I’m really glad I went back to see it. And I also finally understand Leonidas telling the traitor, “May you live forever.” Damn, man. No wonder he flinched.

Weathering With You. GORGEOUS. I need to see more by this animator… LIGHT. WATER. FOOD. I hear they’re calling this person the new Miyazaki? I CONCUR. And the story is sweet and beautiful and just yes. Yes. Oh, look, he made something else before this movie…

Your Name. Okay so I have mixed feelings about this one. On the one hand, fantastic story and, once again, gorgeous animation that all makes me want to track with this creator in the future. And the twist definitely socked me in the gut, I didn’t see it coming. On the other hand, I feel like this movie hits an extreme of “show, don’t tell” in a way that comes awfully close to a negative. I didn’t think that was possible, but this movie switches timelines, POV, points in time, etc, so rapidly that it becomes difficult to keep track of what’s going on, properly. I could not imagine watching this movie in theaters, it has to be watched with a remote in hand to pause, rewind, rewatch, discuss what the heck just happened. It’s like watching Mystery Skulls videos, with that level of rapid fire little details that are incredibly important to the plot, but for a feature length film. Also, after some discussion, I came to see (and agree) that there’s a foundational issue in the main relationship that doesn’t bode well for the future, as much as I rooted for them to be together. Still, it’s an incredible movie and I can see why it was the highest grossing movie for Japan a few years back.

Games

Diablo II. I’m really happy. I live in a house with my husband and his best friend, and in the past year or so we’ve begun playing games together. This is the sort of game I would never have gone to on my own because I actually need someone in the room who I can ask, “Hey, how do you assign attacks again?” or “Hey, is this piece of gear better than the piece I’m wearing?” I don’t like playing the number game on gear so much, but I let the two of them dress my character up and then I back them up in a fight and enjoy myself. Looting and exploring for treasure is probably my favorite aspect (says the person who plays Breath of the Wild just to forage for mushroom and herbs), although as a level 20 Amazon I’m now shooting out waves of 8 arrows at a time, and that’s pretty epic too. It’s a special kind of joy to find out you actually like a type of gaming as long as there’s people there who can explain things along the way and who don’t get annoyed at re-asked questions. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’m having a blast playing Diablo II in a group. And as for the other game we play together as a group…

WoW Classic. I covered this before, but back then I was a lowly level 17 Dwarf Hunter. Now I’m a lowly level 36 Dwarf Hunter. With a mount! I have epic skills like explosion traps, poisonous shots, and multi-shot. My wolf has gained a ton more skills, too, and is (or so I’m told) a pretty effective off-tank. I have been told I am an effective DPS person, which makes me very happy. I really enjoy this kind of gaming, but specifically when I’m in the same room as the people I’m gaming with. Communication is a lot easier and we work really well as a team that way.

#recent media consumed #child loves books #child loves movies #child loves shows #n00b gamer child

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bananaofswifts · 4 years

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Your guide to the singer-songwriter’s surprise follow-up to Folklore.

CARL WILSON

When everything’s clicking for Taylor Swift, the risk is that she’s going to push it too far and overtax the public appetite. On “Mirrorball” from Folklore, she sings, with admirable self-knowledge, “I’ve never been a natural/ All I do is try, try, try.” So when I woke up yesterday to the news that at midnight she was going to repeat the trick she pulled off with Folklore in July—surprise-releasing an album of moody pop-folk songs remote-recorded in quarantine with Aaron Dessner of the National as well as her longtime producer Jack Antonoff—I was apprehensive. Would she trip back into the pattern of overexposure and backlash that happened between 1989 and Reputation?

Listening to the new Evermore, though, that doesn’t feel like such a threat. A better parallel might be to the “Side B” albums that Carly Rae Jepsen put out after both Emotion and Dedicated, springing simply out of the artist’s and her fans’ mutual enthusiasm. Or, closer to Swift’s own impulses here, publishing an author’s book of short stories soon after a successful novel. Lockdown has been a huge challenge for musicians in general, but it liberated Swift from the near-perpetual touring and publicity grind she’s been on since she was a teen, and from her sense of obligation to turn out music that revs up stadium crowds and radio programmers. Swift has always seemed most herself as the precociously talented songwriter; the pop-star side is where her try-hard, A-student awkwardness surfaces most. Quarantine came as a stretch of time to focus mainly on her maturing craft (she turns 31 on Sunday), to workshop and to woodshed. When Evermore was announced, she said that she and her collaborators—clearly mostly Dessner, who co-writes and/or co-produces all but one of these 15 songs—simply didn’t want to stop writing after Folklore.

This record further emphasizes her leap away from autobiography into songs that are either pure fictions or else lyrically symbolic in ways that don’t act as romans à clef. On Folklore, that came with the thrill of a breakthrough. Here, she fine-tunes the approach, with the result that Evermore feels like an anthology, with less of an integrated emotional throughline. But that it doesn’t feel as significant as Folklore is also its virtue. Lowered stakes offer permission to play around, to joke, to give fewer fucks—and this album definitely has the best swearing in Swift’s entire oeuvre.

Because it’s nearly all Dessner overseeing production and arrangements, there isn’t the stylistic variety that Antonoff’s greater presence brought to Folklore. However, Swift and Dessner seem to have realized that the maximalist-minimalism that dominated Folklore, with layers upon layers of restrained instrumental lines for the sake of atmosphere, was too much of a good thing. There are more breaks in the ambience on Evermore, the way there was with Folklore’s “Betty,” the countryish song that was among many listener’s favorites. But there are still moments that hazard misty lugubriousness, and perhaps with reduced reward.

Overall, people who loved Folklore will at least like Evermore too, and the minority of Swift appreciators who disapproved may even warm up to more of the sounds here. I considered doing a track-by-track comparison between the two albums, but that seemed a smidgen pathological. Instead, here is a blatantly premature Day 1 rundown of the new songs as I hear them.

A pleasant yet forgettable starting place, “Willow” has mild “tropical house” accents that recall Ed Sheeran songs of yesteryear, as well as the prolix mixed metaphors Swift can be prone to when she’s not telling a linear story. But not too severely. I like the invitation to a prospective lover to “wreck my plans.” I’m less sure why “I come back stronger than a ’90s trend” belongs in this particular song, though it’s witty. “Willow” is more fun as a video (a direct sequel to Folklore’s “Cardigan” video) than as a lead track, but I’m not mad at it here either.

Written with “William Bowery”—the pseudonym of Swift’s boyfriend Joe Alwyn, as she’s recently confirmed—this is the first of the full story songs on Evermore, in this case a woman describing having walked away from her partner on the night he planned to propose. The music is a little floaty and non-propulsive, but the tale is well painted, with Swift’s protagonist willingly taking the blame for her beau’s heartbreak and shrugging off the fury of his family and friends—“she would have made such a lovely bride/ too bad she’s fucked in the head.” Swift sticks to her most habitual vocal cadences, but not much here goes to waste. Except, that is, for the title phrase, which doesn’t feel like it adds anything substantial. (Unless the protagonist was drunk?) I do love the little throwaway piano filigree Dessner plays as a tag on the end.

This is the sole track Antonoff co-wrote and produced, and it’s where a subdued take on the spirit of 1989-style pop resurges with necessary energy. Swift is singing about having a crush on someone who’s too attractive, too in-demand, and relishing the fantasy but also enjoying passing it up. It includes some prime Swiftian details, like, “With my Eagles t-shirt hanging from your door,” or, “At dinner parties I call you out on your contrarian shit.” The line about this thirst trap’s “hair falling into place like dominos” I find much harder to picture.

This is where I really snapped to attention. After a few earlier attempts, Swift has finally written her great Christmas song, one to stand alongside “New Year’s Day” in her holiday canon. And it’s especially a great one for 2020, full of things none of us ought to do this year—go home to visit our parents, hook up with an ex, spend the weekend in their bedroom and their truck, then break their hearts again when we leave. But it’s done with sincere yuletide affection to “the only soul who can tell which smiles I’m faking,” and “the warmest bed I’ve ever known.” All the better, we get to revisit these characters later on the album.

On first listen, I found this one of the draggiest Dressner compositions on the record. Swift locates a specific emotional state recognizably and poignantly in this song about a woman trapped (or, she wonders, maybe not trapped?) in a relationship with an emotionally withholding, unappreciative man. But the static keyboard chord patterns and the wandering melody that might be meant to evoke a sense of disappointment and numbness risk yielding numbing and disappointing music. Still, it’s growing on me.

Featuring two members of Haim—and featuring a character named after one of them, Este—“No Body, No Crime” is a straight-up contemporary country song, specifically a twist on and tribute to the wronged-woman vengeance songs that were so popular more than a decade ago, and even more specifically “Before He Cheats,” the 2006 smash by Carrie Underwood, of which it’s a near musical clone, just downshifted a few gears. Swift’s intricate variation on the model is that the singer of the song isn’t wreaking revenge on her own husband, but on her best friend’s husband, and framing the husband’s mistress for the murder. It’s delicious, except that Swift commits the capital offence of underusing the Haim sisters purely as background singers, aside from one spoken interjection from Danielle.

This one has some of the same issues as “Tolerate It,” in that it lags too much for too long, but I did find more to focus on musically here. Lyrically and vocally, it gets the mixed emotions of a relatively amicable divorce awfully damned right, if I may speak from painfully direct experience.

This is the song sung from the POV of the small-town lover that the ambitious L.A. actress from “Tis the Damn Season”—Dorothea, it turns out—has left behind in, it turns out, Tupelo. Probably some years past that Xmas tryst, when the old flame finally has made it. “A tiny screen’s the only place I see you now,” he sings, but adds that she’s welcome back anytime: “If you’re ever tired of being known/ For who you know/ You know that you’ll always know me.” It’s produced and arranged with a welcome lack of fuss. Swift hauls out her old high-school-romance-songs vocal tone to reminisce about “skipping the prom/ just to piss off your mom,” very much in the vein of Folklore’s teen-love-triangle trilogy.

A duet with Dessner’s baritone-voiced bandmate in the National, Matt Berninger, “Coney Island” suffers from the most convoluted lyrics on Evermore (which, I wonder unkindly, might be what brought Berninger to mind?). The refrain “I’m on a beach on Coney Island, wondering where did my baby go” is a terrific tribute to classic pop, but then Swift rhymes it with “the bright lights, the merry go,” as if that’s a serviceable shorthand for merry-go-round, and says “sorry for not making you my centerfold,” as if that’s somehow a desirable relationship outcome. The comparison of the bygone affair to “the mall before the internet/ It was the one place to be” is clever but not exactly moving, and Berninger’s lines are worse. Dessner’s droning arrangement does not come to the rescue.

This song is also overrun with metaphors but mostly in an enticing, thematically fitting way, full of good Swiftian dark-fairytale grist. It’s fun to puzzle out gradually the secret that all the images are concealing—an engaged woman being drawn into a clandestine affair. And there are several very good “goddamns.”

The lyrical conceit here is great, about two gold-digging con artists whose lives of scamming are undone by their falling in love. It reminded me of the 1931 pre-Code rom-com Blonde Crazy, in which James Cagney and Joan Blondell act out a very similar storyline. And I mostly like the song, but I can’t help thinking it would come alive more if the music sounded anything like what these self-declared “cowboys” and “villains” might sing. It’s massively melancholy for the story, and Swift needs a far more winningly roguish duet partner than the snoozy Marcus Mumford. It does draw a charge from a couple of fine guitar solos, which I think are played by Justin Vernon (aka Bon Iver, who will return shortly).

The drum machine comes as a refreshing novelty at this point. And while this song is mostly standard Taylor Swift torrents of romantic-conflict wordplay (full of golden gates and pedestals and dropping her swords and breaking her high heel, etc.), the pleasure comes in hearing her look back at all that and shrugging, “Long story short, it was a bad ti-i-ime,” “long story short, it was the wrong guy-uy-uy,” and finally, “long story short, I survived.” She passes along some counsel I’m sure she wishes she’d had back in the days of Reputation: “I wanna tell you not to get lost in these petty things/ Your nemeses will defeat themselves.” It’s a fairly slight song but an earned valedictory address.

Swift fan lore has it that she always sequences the real emotional bombshell as Track 5, but here it is at 13, her lucky number. It’s sung to her grandmother, Marjorie Finlay, who died when Swift was in her early teens, and it manages to be utterly personal—down to the sample of Marjorie singing opera on the outro—and simultaneously utterly evocative to anyone who’s been through such grief. The bridge, full of vivid memories and fierce regrets, is the clincher.

This electroacoustic kiss-off song, loaded up with at least a fistful of gecs if not a full 100 by Dessner and co-producers BJ Burton and James McAlister, seems to be, lyrically, one of Swift’s somewhat tedious public airings of some music-industry grudge (on which, in case you don’t get it, she does not want “closure”), but, sonically, it’s a real ear-cleaner at this point on Evermore. Why she seems to shift into a quasi-British accent for fragments of it is anyone’s guess. But I’m tickled by the line, “I’m fine with my spite and my tears and my beers and my candles.”

I’m torn about the vague imagery and vague music of the first few verses of the album’s final, title track. But when Vernon, in full multitracked upper-register Bon Iver mode, kicks in for the duet in the middle, there’s a jolt of urgency that lands the redemptive ending—whether it’s about a crisis in love or the collective crisis of the pandemic or perhaps a bit of both—and satisfyingly rounds off the album.

#taylor-swift #pop #rock #country-music

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millennialfangirl · 4 years

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Wherever You Will Go (post AoS Dousy Fic)

Fandom: Agents of Shield Pairing: Daisy x Daniel Rating: Teen and up Word Count: 1,717

Summary:

What kind of present time is the team returning to after their hard fought battle against the Chronicoms? Will Daisy get her happy ending? If Daniel has anything to say about it, he'll always find his way back to her. Is there someone out there who can bring him back to her?

(entirely inspired by the song "Wherever You Will Go," by The Calling.

A/N:

Whooo boy yall. I heard this song the other day and was just struck with inspiration for Dousy.

It's also my attempt at an endgame fix-it fic of sorts regarding plotholes and the lack of Phil Coulson and Daisy Johnson in the MCU, and aos/endgame fusion if you will.

This is a multi-chap with it all plotted out, and several chapters drafted. Non-beta-ed, we die as men.

I hope you'll join me for the ride!

Ao3 Link

Chapter 1:

For a moment, silence rings throughout the Zephyr.

Daisy slumps against the wall, exhausted. The adrenaline from the final fight against Malick and the Chronicoms is starting to dissipate.

“The Zephyr is stable. Anyone still standing, make your way to the bridge for a headcount,” Mack’s voice booms through the stillness.

Somehow she finds the strength to make it through the corridors, the desire to see her team and make sure Daniel is safe, the only thing keeping her going. Finally, she turns the last corner and sees Coulson first.

He turns in time to see her as she half hugs, half collapses in his arms.

“Whoa, whoa, I got you.”

“Did we win?”

“Yea, we won. You can rest now,” he says leading her to one of the bench seats.

Then she’s pushing against him, fighting against his hold.

“No, where’s Sousa? Did he make it?”

“I’m right here,” he affirms from behind her.

Daisy feels a wave of relief at hearing his voice. She turns and finds him looking at her with a similar look of relief.

Without thinking about the consequences or who is watching, they step toward each other, and Daisy immediately pulls him down for a kiss. He wraps his arms around her without thinking, supporting as much of her weight as he can. The kiss is life affirming and celebratory, but there’s a desperation underneath, both of them scared that the fight’s not really over, that any minute now one of them will disappear.

“Ay Dios Mio,” Yo-yo grumbles as she passes them.

They pull apart, faint blushes covering their cheeks. It only lasts a minute before Daisy’s putting nearly all of her weight on Daniel. In an instant, he lifts her into his arms and carries her over to the seats. He carefully sits down with her, and her head immediately finds his chest.

“I told you so,” Mack rubs in Yo-yo’s face.

One by one, the rest of the team filters in. Injuries are assessed and hugs are shared.

Coulson and Mack quietly discuss their next steps.

“Everyone needs a break, and a really good night of sleep,” Mack suggests.

“Agreed. Fortunately for us, we have all the time we need here in the temporal zone. Let them rest, eat. We can regroup in 12 hours,” Coulson tells him.

Mack gives the order to everyone, and the team scatters.

***

Daniel carefully settles Daisy onto the bed of her bunk. Methodically, he takes off her boots, and then her gauntlets. He gently sits next to her on the bed, and softly moves hair out of her bruised face. Even with the dark purple spots and cuts, she’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

“Heyya, Danny-boy,” she says sleepily with a half smile.

He laughs out loud and brings her hand to his lips, kissing it softly.

“Back atcha, Quake.”

She turns her head into her pillow and groans in embarrassment. She’s never going to forgive Mack.

“You need to get some rest,” he prods.

“You know, I’d normally fight you on that, but I kind of feel like I was hit by a truck.”

“You never have to pretend you’re okay with me,” he tells her earnestly, rubbing his hands up and down her arm soothingly.

“Then can I ask you to stay? I don’t want to be alone.”

“Thank God. I don’t want to leave your side,” he answers, already sliding his shoes off and propping himself up against the headboard beside her.

“You should lay down and get some sleep too,” she insists.

“I will. I just want to watch over you for a little while.”

Daisy blushes, but curls herself around him and lays her head on his lap. He automatically starts running his fingers through her hair.

“I thought you would have had enough of that by now,” she mumbles.

“Never enough,” he says softly. “Now get some sleep.”

His gentle touch and comforting embrace lulls her to sleep within minutes.

***

Daisy wakes to the smell of eggs and bacon wafting through the Zephyr. She also can’t help but notice a warm body wrapped around her. Her suspicions are confirmed when she opens her eyes and all she can see is the blue of Daniel’s shirt. That damn shirt.

Her head is tucked under his chin, and her arms are curled up between them. She’s using one of his arms as a pillow, while his other one is holding her close. She recognizes the intimacy of the moment, how they somehow jumped a million steps, but it feels right.

“Good morning,” she hears his deep voice mumble against her hair.

“Possibly the best one since 1931.”

She nuzzles further into him, and wraps an arm around his waist, pulling him closer.

“Definitely the best,” he confirms.

“As much as I would like to stay here and fall right back to sleep, I’m starving, and I can smell Coulson cooking breakfast.”

“Oh no, I better get out of your way before you quake me,” he mocks.

“The square has jokes, huh?”

“A few.”

He’s blushing when he leans over to kiss her softly. Her hand finds a home in his hair, and she kisses him back. His hand starts gliding up and down her spine, and without thinking, she gives more over to the kiss. She nibbles his lip, and he moans, causing her to stop, but he follows her quickly with his tongue, surprising her. From there, it’s a blur, both of them becoming heated. His fingertips are just grazing her stomach under her tank top when a loud knocking interrupts them.

“Daisy...Coulson has food ready. C’mon before it gets cold,” Jemma informs her from behind the door. She’s quiet for a moment before continuing. “And bring Sousa with you.”

Both of them are catching their breaths as they stare at each other, not flushed with embarrassment, but longing.

“That wasn’t funny,” Daisy says staring up at him with emotion.

“No. It wasn’t funny at all,” he replies, voice thick with the same emotion. He caresses her cheek softly. “Let’s get you some food.”

Daisy agrees and lets him pull her out of bed. They decide to part ways to freshen up and change clothes before facing the new day.

***

Everyone is gathered around the common area near the small kitchen galley. Daisy can hear the laughter as she comes down the hall from her bunk. It looks like she’s the last to arrive as she spots Daniel sitting at the table. On the opposite side, she catches the tail end of Mack’s story that has them all giggling.

“And then she did a full on superhero landing, right in front of hundreds of people, live on t.v.”

“She totally outed herself as Quake,” Jemma says, leaning over to show Daniel a picture on her phone.

He’s laughing along with everyone else when she clears her throat and makes her presence known.

“I see how it’s gonna be. Should I bring up the Jasper Sitwell incident?” she threatens while leaning against the cabinets.

Jemma jerks her phone away. “Oh, don’t be a spoil sport.”

“If it makes you feel any better, Tremors, we started off by telling him about how you saved our lives that day.”

Daisy grumbles as she starts to pour some coffee. “So what other dirty laundry have you aired, Mack Hammer?”

“Well, I have seen the,” Daniel pauses and looks to Jemma, “what did you call it? The goth phase?”

“Jemma!” Daisy shrieks.

“I’m sorry! We got carried away telling stories.”

“I think my favorite hair is the purple streak,” Daniel adds.

Daisy just face-palms.

“Okay, okay. Sousa, I’ve been dying to ask you for some SSR stories,” Coulson intervenes.

Daniel dives into a hilarious anecdote about Howard Stark and one of his inventions. As Daisy prepares her plate and sits down next to Daniel, she soaks in the peacefulness. From there, the conversation flows from one war story to another, some hilarious, some sad.

Long after their plates are emptied, they’re still going at it.

“Wait a minute, wait a minute...Thor’s real?” Daniel asks, shocked.

All of the girls nod and sigh, and Jemma pipes up, “I think I’ve got a picture!”

Jemma immediately pulls up a photo to show Daniel.

“You sure did find that awfully fast,” Fitz grumbles.

Daniel looks and his eyebrows raise. “That's...impressive.”

Daisy nearly chokes on her cold coffee, Daniel’s word choice reminding her of their conversation in the time loop. Yo-yo and May try to lean over and catch a glimpse too.

“Oh, jeez. C’mon guys. He’s not that dreamy,” Coulson whines.

“As much as I would love this particular conversation to continue, we do have some difficult things to talk about, like when we’re going home?” Jemma suggests as she puts her phone away. Everyone chimes in as they all start discussing problems back home.

“Hold on, hold on,” Coulson butts in. “Maybe we shouldn’t rush. You all deserve to have a break, and we have plenty of food. We all need to heal. We don’t know what we’ll be going home to.”

“I suppose it wouldn’t hurt. We really have all the time in the world here,” Fitz responds.

The conversation drifts from there, everyone sharing the various things they’re looking forward to doing when they get home. Discreetly, Daniel takes Daisy's hand under the table.

Not discreetly enough that May and Coulson both don’t notice. Coulson leans into May as they continue to watch their friends, family really, talk about happier things.

“He’s good for her,” he says with a hint of remorse.

“He is. I can feel his affection for her. It’s genuine,” May observes.

Coulson goes silent as he watches on.

“It’s more than you just wanting the team to have a break, isn’t it, Phil. What aren’t you saying?” May asks looking at him stoically.

Coulson sighs and rubs his hand down his face.

“You know how I had to go into the time stream to destroy it...well I saw a lot of future timelines. They all had one thing in common,” he says before pausing and looking at Sousa grinning from ear to ear at Daisy.

“Daniel Sousa has to go back to 1955, or else he’ll cease to exist.”

****

Thanks for reading! Comments are treasured!!!

#dousy #daisy x daniel #daisy johnson #daniel sousa #agents of shield #aos #aos/endgame fusion #daisysous #daisy x sousa #my fic

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stxn-the-mxn · 5 years

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I Love You, Too || 2019!Reddie X Daughter!Reader

A/N: I combined two requests, cause I wanted to put them together :))) Hope you don’t mind

Request: hi! i absolutely LOVE your writings! especially the daughter!reader ones. i was wondering if i could request something? like where the reader is eddie and richie are married and they adopted a daughter. she’s has a stutter and is picked on for it at school. she comes home one day crying and her dad’s comfort her when she says she hates her stutter and they tell her that it’s not a bad thing and she should embrace it and not be ashamed? just soft family fluff! thank you -Anon

Could you do a semi sweet but angst fic? Richie and Eddie get out of Derry together and get married, adopt a little girl (the reader) and they return to derry with her. She’s around 7/8 years old and penny wise gets her, they go to save her with the rest of the losers but Eddie still dies 🥺 (my baby) but sweet moments of the reader meeting the gang and everything and sweet moments with her papa’s. Sorry if it sounds kind of dumb ❤️❤️❤️ - @spidey-starky

!!WARNING: HOMOPHOBIC SLURS, IT CH2 SPOILERS, BLOOD!!

***

You were pushed up against your locker, Jacob holding you by your shirt collar. Most people in this situation would maybe yell out for help, try to get someone’s attention. But you were used to it, plus school had ended and barely anyone was still here.

This was a regular occurrence. The name-calling, the mockery, everything that a middle school bully could do, she had seen and heard before. It didn’t affect her anymore.

Jacob would always do this, maybe steal something of yours, typical bullying business. But today, he went too far.

After the school play, Jacob had seen your dads picking you up. He had found that perfect bullying material. A stutter and the daughter of two gays? Perfect victim, he thought.

“Come on, Stuttering Y-Y/N!” He mocked your stutter, as you rolled your eyes. “Aww, is the stuttering joke getting old? Well, how bout we talk about your fag fathers?”

Your eyes widened. Shit.

“You’re probably just like them.” Tears welled in your eyes. “And, hey, that means you’re adopted! Not even your real parents wanted you so they had to hand you over to some fucking gays! So, not only do you have a dumbass fucking stutter, your parents are fucking gay!”

Jacob smirked as he saw the tears dripping down your face. It had taken a while, but finally, he’d found what broke you. You couldn’t speak, too overwhelmed by everything happening so quickly. A part of you wished you were just getting bullied for the stutter.

“I don’t know if you noticed, Stutter Fag, but your kind isn’t appreciated around here.”

He threw you to the ground, as you landed on your nose, causing it to bleed. Jacob walked away, leaving school. You waited till you knew he was gone before grabbing your bag, picking up all the papers that had slipped out.

How long had your dad been waiting out in the parking lot? Checking your watch, you discovered he’d probably been there for at least ten minutes. Shit, he wasn’t gonna be happy…

Running out to the car, you forgot about the blood dripping down your face. You threw your bag into the back of the car, before hopping into the front seat, being met with the concerned face of your father.

“Y/N? What the hell happened to you? Jeez, wait til Eds sees you.” He handed you a few tissues, not noticing as you used them for your eyes and not your nose. He started the car, driving back to your rather large home.

“Y/N?” Your dad placed a hand softly on your knee. “What happened after school today?”

“N-N-Nothing. Just got t-too excited and r-r-ran into a w-wall.”

You could see on his face that he didn’t believe you. Lying to your father wasn’t something you were good at. He raised an eyebrow, which meant that he expected you to keep talking.

“It w-was just J-J-Jacob. H-He stayed a-a-after class a-and, uh, he m-m-m-might have, uh, b-b-bullied me.” You whispered, mentally cursing yourself for stuttering so much.

That stupid fucking stutter was the cause of all your problems.

“Oh, honey, I’m so sorry… Look, right now, we’ll push it aside and talk about it later when Papa Bear is home.” Your dad laughed as your face contorted into disgust. He knew you hated when he called Eddie that.

“All jokes aside, we’ll discuss this later. Just relax, and maybe clean up your nose a bit more.”

***

You sat at the dinner table, eyes glued to the plate in front of you. Eddie’s eyes remained on you, concern etched on his face. Richie, however, simply smiled warmly at you.

“Y/N, baby, you’re awfully quiet,” Eddie spoke, his head tilted slightly in confusion.

“Honey, it’s time to talk.” Richie reminded you of the conversation in the car, and with a sigh, you thought of how to explain the situation.

“Uh, d-dads, after s-s-school today, t-this kid was, u-uh, teasing m-me about m-m-m-my stutter.” You couldn’t tell the whole truth. You couldn’t tell them that. Just the thought of what Jacob said brought tears to your eyes.

The tears began streaming down your face.

Eddie left his seat, pulling you into his arms. You cried into his shoulder, and Richie piled on top. Eddie’s arms were wrapped protectively around you, and Richie rubbed calming circles on your back.

“Your stutter is so perfectly you, baby. You shouldn’t feel ashamed of it. Embrace it.”

Your tears slowed as you heard Richie’s phone ring, his ringtone being that stupid Pina Colada song. At first, he ignored it, staying with you, but by the sixth consecutive ring, you told him to answer it.

“I’m hungry, anyway.” You smiled, wiping the final tears from your face. With a forehead kiss from Eddie and a final hug from Richie, they moved away, Richie answering his phone.

“Yello? Huh? Oh. Right, yeah. Yeah, cool. See you soon, I guess?” His face went white as he hung up the phone, and he ran out of the room. Seconds later you heard him in the bathroom, the sound making you cover your ears. Eddie ran to the bathroom, and you could hear him checking over Richie.

Eddie’s phone rang suddenly, and you picked it off the table, bringing it to the bathroom, where Eddie was helping Richie off the floor, moving him away from the toilet bowl.

“Dad? Your phone is ringing.” You handed the phone to the shorter male, before scurrying back to the table. What the fuck was going on?

They stayed in the bathroom for another ten minutes and when they came back, you knew something was wrong.

“Baby, we need to talk.”

***

Last night at the Chinese restaurant had been an interesting event, to say the least. It had been a long trip to Derry, so you had been half asleep when entering the restaurant. An hour into the dinner, you were on the verge of sleep.

Richie and Eddie were trying so hard to keep you awake, but you were twelve and had been on a plane for five hours, which didn’t seem like much but it was a very rocky flight. Eventually, Richie and Eddie caved and allowed you to fall asleep, leaning against Eddie’s arm.

“She’s adorable,” Beverly said, smiling at the passed out girl. The other Losers hummed in agreement, Richie and Eddie sharing a proud smile.

“H-How long h-h-have you ha-had her?” Bill asked, realising afterwards that maybe he could’ve phrased that differently.

“Since she was only two, actually. So we’ve had her for ten years, now.” Richie pushed the hair out of your eyes, a soft smile on his face.

“Tell us about her.” Stan smiled, his usual demeanour shattered by the precious girl at the table. Everyone at the table was simply enamoured with this little girl.

“Uh, we adopted her a year after we got married.” Eddie grew flustered, as the Losers smirked at him and Richie.

“She’s literally the perfect kid!” Richie chimed in, “She’s got good grades, she doesn’t get involved with anything bad or stupid, and she’s just amazing. We love her so much.”

The other Losers felt like they would burst from the amount of adoration they had for this girl. The night continued on, everyone getting quite drunk, except Stan, who felt the need to be the one sober person.

He was rolling his eyes at Richie and Eddie drunkenly flirting in the corner when he noticed you stirring from your spot on the table. You sat up, blinking a few times, growing accustomed to the fluorescent glow of the lights above.

Stan was the only one to notice you wake up and decided to separate you from the drunken activities.

“Hey, Y/N, how was your sleep?” He asked, loudly, as to maybe alert the others that you were awake.

“Yeah, i-i-it was pretty g-good. I’m no-not as t-tired now.” Stan’s eyes widened in surprise. You had a stutter?

“Oh, honey, you’re awake!’ Richie announced loudly, everyone looking at you and Stan.

“She has a stutter?” Stan asked, and you immediately felt tears brim in your eyes.

Richie and Eddie looked worried, while the others looked intrigued. You felt everyone’s eyes on you, and it was far too much. You ran from the room, your dads calling after you.

“Did I say the wrong thing?” Stan asked worriedly.

“She’s very sensitive about the stutter. She gets bullied a lot. So, we don’t talk about it.” Eddie explained, before running out to find you, Richie not too far behind.

The other Losers turned to Bill, their stuttering friend.

He had an understanding look on his face, having lived with a stutter for so many years of his life. But he had overcome it for so many years, so surely he could help you.

The Losers returned to the table, waiting patiently for Richie and Eddie to return, you by their side. Minutes passed, and no one walked through the door, except for the waitress who placed a bowl of fortune cookies on the table.

Just as she was leaving, a panicked Eddie and Richie came through the door.

But you weren’t with them.

Their faces held panic, fear, and everything in between.

“Guys? Where’s Y/N?” Ben asked, his voice shaky.

“W-we don’t know. We looked everywhere, but we can’t find her.” Eddie started crying, Richie holding him close to his chest.

Mike stepped forward, grabbing Richie by the shoulders. “We’ll find her. She can’t have gone too far. She’s probably in the bathroom.”

“O-oh, yeah. The bathroom.” He only sounded half-convinced, but Richie and Eddie would take anything to put their minds at ease.

“W-we were gi-given fortune c-c-cookies,” Bill suggested quietly.

Everyone sat back at the table, avoiding looking at the empty chair between Eddie and Richie. They all picked up a cookie, one still sitting in the bowl.

They all cracked theirs open, each finding a single piece of paper.

“The hell? Mine just says ‘Time” Richie murmured, the cookies really not distracting him from the disappearance of his daughter.

The others all looked at their fortunes, not noticing Eddie’s shaking hands and terrified expressions.

“W-wait. Give me y-y-your paper.” Bill said as the Losers put their papers down. All except Eddie.

They scuffled about, finding that their words formed a sentence.

“Oh shit. Oh, fuck!” Richie yelled, seeing the sentence forming. He looked over at his husband, begging him for the paper. Eddie held it tighter, but upon seeing the desperate look on his love's face, he placed the paper down.

Tears streamed down his face, as the other saw what was on his paper.

Bye Bye Stuttering Y/N! Time To Float!

“No. No. This isn’t fucking happening. We have to go get her.” Richie stood from his seat, Eddie following.

“No!” Mike yelled. “There’s something we have to do first.”

***

You were floating, but they couldn’t do anything, not yet. First, they had to kill that fucking clown. It hurt Richie and Eddie to just leave you there, floating above the ground, almost dead.

“Hey, fuckface! You wanna play truth or dare? Here’s a truth; You’re a sloppy bitch! Yeah, that’s right. Let’s dance! Yippee-kay-yay motherfuc-” Everyone watched as Richie got caught in the deadlights.

Eddie screamed, but not a frightful scream, it was more of a “back off my husband you bitch” scream. He ran forward, throwing the pole Bev had gave him as hard as possible. It struck Pennywise in the mouth, sending IT backwards, ending up impaled on one of the spikes.

Richie fell to the ground, breathing heavily. What the fuck had he just seen?

Eddie came crashing down on top of him, straddling Richie’s waist. Not an uncommon position for them, but that wasn’t relevant right now. Eddie leaned down, grabbing Richie’s face and slamming their lips together.

Richie closed his eyes, melting as he always did when Eddie kissed him. His eyes opened, however, when the salty taste of Eddie’s lips became metallic. Richie froze, not even flinching when Eddie splurted blood onto his face.

“R-Richie?” Eddie spoke softly, blood trickling down his chin. The pain in his eyes matched that of Richie’s heart. Richie couldn’t look down, because he knew what he would see if he let his eyes travel.

And then he remembered, the first time he had entered this fucking house. The first time he lost Eddie. That fucking demonic version of his love. The fucking black shit that had flowed from his mouth. That image that was identical to this. That motherfucking clown who had planned everything to be like this.

“Eddie? Eddie, love?” His pleas were useless, as Eddie was pulled away from him, and flung about by the clown who ruined every fucking good thing he’d ever had.

IT threw Eddie from its claw, sending him towards the ground, right beneath where you were floating. Fuck, he couldn’t do this.

But he had to.

For Eddie.

And for you.

***

Richie got up from beside Eddie, who was barely alive at this point, but Richie could always see the life in his eyes. Eddie watched him leave through the dancing black spots in his vision.

He could feel the familiar fabric of Richie’s jacket in his hands and found one of his hands in the pocket. His hand brushed against what felt like paper, and with as much strength as he had, slid it out of the jacket.

Unfolding it slowly, he saw a pencil drawing, one that you had done as a very young child. It was of the three of you, smiling, and for a toddler’s drawing, it was extremely good. You had labelled each person, though it was obvious who was who.

Up the top, in messy crayon handwriting, were the words “I love my daddies.” with two pink hearts sloppily drawn at both ends of the sentence.

“I love you too, baby”

#richie tozier #richie tozier x reader #richie tozier x daughter!reader #eddie kaspbrak #eddie kaspbrak x reader #eddie kaspbrak x daughter!reader #reddie #reddie x reader #reddie x daughter!reader #it #it x reader #it 2 #it 2 x reader #it chapter 2 #it chapter 2 x reader #the losers club #the losers club x reader #losers club #losers club x reader

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sweet-curried-powder · 4 years

Text

Happy Birthday, Edward!

Technically, Edward’s birthday isn’t until tomorrow, but I was too damn excited!!

I really wanted to do something special for Edward’s birthday, so I thought I’d write him a little something to celebrate!

There’s also some self-indulgent Chredwis in here, because there isn’t enough of that out there.

Characters: Edward Quinton, Chris Jackson, Drew and Nevin Jovel, Isaac Beamer, Ell Fisher

Word count: 2,164

Warnings: Swearing

The boys belong to @onebizarrekai, Ell belongs to me, and the picture was drawn by my good friend @oakskull!

Fic is under the cut!

Happy birthday, Edward!

***

Chris was ten seconds away from a fucking panic attack. He was pacing back and forth, muttering to himself, finishing off his fourth chocolate bar in the span of ten minutes.

“Okay, so Ell’s baking the cake, Nevin’s cooking other stuff, Drew’s finishing up the playlist for the party…wait, what about the decorations? OH GOD, ARE THE DECORATIONS DONE?! THIS PARTY’S GONNA SUCK ASS IF THERE ISN’T ANY DECORA-”

“Calm your tits, man!” Isaac sighed, walking in the room with a box of handmade decorations. He put them down and held up a banner that said, ‘Happy Birthday, King Edward Quinton!’ There were crowns drawn on it with shiny markers, and it was covered in rhinestones and glitter. “Also gonna toot my own horn and say it’s some of my best work.”

“Oh, thank Kai,” Chris sighed, relaxing. “...Why is it so shiny, though?”

“It’s Edward’s birthday. Everyone knows that your birthday is the one day per year that you get to feel important!” Isaac grinned. “Plus I wanted to use a ton of glitter and rhinestones.”

“Isaac, honey, I love you, but how much did you even USE?” Drew cried, squinting at the banner and shielding his eyes.

“You remember when I went to the arts and crafts store with the five hundred dollars Ell gave me?”

“Yeah?”

“Two hundred and fifty dollars were spent on anything that sparkled.”

Drew facepalmed.

“Well, the aesthetic does look pretty nice,” Chris nodded. “Ell, do me a favor and use your telekinesis to help hang all of these up.”

“Gotcha, Chris-cross!” Ell grinned, lifting her hand. The banner lifted in the air all on its own. She lifted the box up with her hands and wandered off to decorate the rest of Chris’s house.

“I can’t believe that your dad’s okay with holding Ed’s party here,” Isaac said. “I figured that he’d say no to this.”

“Oh, Dad doesn’t know,” Chris replied. “He’s been on a business trip since Monday. He won’t be back until late next week. As long as we clean everything up afterwards, he won’t suspect a thing.”

“Damn, you’re being a rebel, aren’t you?” Drew raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah, because this is important! Tomorrow is Ed’s big day!” Chris cried. “Tomorrow has to be absolutely perfect! Just like he is…”

“What was that last part?” Nevin asked, leaning closer to the monochromatic teenager.

“NOTHING!” Chris shouted, face going red, turning to Ell. “Ell, you’re gonna pick Ed up later so he can spend the night at your house, right? You know, to keep him busy so we can set up the finishing touches the next morning?”

“Uh-huh!” Ell gave Chris a thumbs up. “I’m gonna get up early and sneak over here to bake and decorate the cake. If all goes well, I should be back before Edward even wakes up.”

“Remind me why Edward’s gonna stay the night at Ell’s house, again?” Isaac asked. “He could’ve stayed at my place. We’re on pretty good terms.”

“Ell lives the furthest away from all of us,” Chris reminded him. “I’d have him stay at my house, but obviously we can’t, since we’re having the party here.”

“And we all know what Chris would do to Ed if they spent the night alone with each other,” Ell added.

“Jesus fucking Christ, guys! It’s not like that!” Chris cried. “We’d just play birthday games.”

“Birthday games?” Drew repeated.

“Yeah! Like Spin the Bottle, 7 Minutes in Heaven…”

“Chris, those aren’t birthday games,” Isaac facepalmed. “Those are the types of games that horny teenagers play at parties.”

“Hey, who can blame him? That’s how I would want to ring in MY birthday.” Ell’s face started to turn red. “But with somebody else, if you catch my drift…”

“Ell, stop it. You’re gonna bleed on the carpet.” Drew sighed, pulling out a tissue and handing it to Ell.

“Alright, everyone regroup here tomorrow morning at 8 am to put on the finishing touches! Ed’s… er, cronies will arrive a few hours before, and Ell and Ed should be here at noon! Don’t be late!”

Everyone said their goodbyes and went their separate ways, Isaac getting into his car, Drew and Nevin heading home, and Ell walking towards Ed’s house.

Chris shut the door behind him, sliding to the floor. He was nervous. So, so nervous. This party was one of the many surprises that he had for Edward, when tomorrow came.

“Tomorrow is going to be perfect,” Chris said aloud to the empty house. “It has to be. For Edward.”

********************************************

Edward’s cake looked amazing. It was several layers tall, and was frosted in different colors, and even had a tiny little Edward made of modeling chocolate and fondant.

“It’s not really one of my best creations, but Ed’ll like it,” Ell shrugged, wiping some frosting off of her cheek.

“Not one of your best?!” Chris cried. “This is the best birthday cake I’ve ever seen in my life! How did you even manage to make this in two hours?”

“I’ve been in a ton of baking competitions before. No biggie.” Ell blew some hair out of her face. “You gotta learn to work quickly in those sort of things.”

“Did you win a few of them?” Chris asked, intrigued.

“Nope. I won them all.” Ell grinned. “What did you think all those trophies in my living room came from?”

“Martial arts competitions,” Chris replied without hesitation.

“You’re not wrong, actually. I just keep those trophies in my room.” Ell checked the time. “I better go. Ed’s gonna wake up any minute now, and I need to keep the B-day boy distracted.”

“Alright,” Chris sighed. “I’ll call you if I need you to distract him for even longer.”

“That won’t happen.” Ell smiled at Chris, confident.

“How do you know?”

“Let me ask you a question.” Ell leaned in close to Chris. “Do you love Edward?”

Chris’s face went completely and totally red.

“Well, the same generic and platonic love I share with all of my friends and family-”

“No, you dumbass! I mean romantically! Sexually! That kind of love! Do you love Edward in that way?”

Chris balled his hands up into fists. He could lie in this situation, say that he didn’t, but Ell could read minds, and on top of that, she could instantly tell whether someone was lying or telling the truth, so denying that he loved Edward in this situation proved moot.

“Yes. I romantically and sexually love Edward,” Chris admitted, his cheeks warming.

“In that case, I believe that you’ve got this in the bag,” Ell smiled. “You won’t let anything go wrong for him. It’s his birthday, and you want to make it really special for him. You want to give him a birthday that he’ll never forget, in the best way possible. And you’ll succeed.”

“You really think so?”

“I don’t think so. I know so. Telekinetic’s intuition.” Ell tapped her head, looking like the guy from the “you can’t do” meme.

Chris chuckled. “Thanks, Ell. You’re the best.”

“You’re welcome. That’ll be thirty bucks.”

“WHAT?!”

“I’m kidding! God…”

******************************

Edward felt something sit down on his chest, followed by a heavenly smell. He opened his eyes, and Ell was sitting on him, a party horn in her mouth, holding a tray.

Ell blew on the horn, and she took it out of her mouth using her telekinesis. “Bon anniversaire! Feliz cumpleanos! Happy birthday!”

“You made me breakfast in bed? That’s awfully nice of you!” Edward grinned, taking the tray. “Ooh! French toast!”

“Not just any French toast!” Ell grinned. “It’s my grandmother’s special Nutella French toast! The recipe’s been in my family since the day Nutella was first sold in 1964!”

Edward took a bite of it, and his eyes lit up. “Holy shit, this tastes amazing! Nevin would probably kill for this recipe!”

“Yeah, I figured, which is why I haven’t told him about this,” Ell chuckled. “Do me a solid and keep this under wraps, will you?”

“It’s the least I can do,” Edward nodded, taking another bite. “Damn, I gotta say, you’re a really good cook.”

“Oh, thanks. I’m mostly self-taught.” Ell crossed her legs. “So, do you have any plans for today?”

“I usually go out for dinner on my birthday with my family, but I’m pretty much free until then,” Edward said. “I think I might go see Chris. My cronies probably got me something. Well, at least Cody, probably.”

“Oh, I bet you’ll see them soon,” Ell smiled. “Trust me.”

“Okay…” Edward took another bite. While he was distracted, Ell checked the time. She needed to keep Edward distracted for four hours. While some people would think that was impossible, she knew how to do it.

“You know, there’s this new store that opened up nearby that’s full of weird stuff,” Ell said, rubbing her thumb and forefinger together. “And I heard this rumor from one of the librarians that the place had some haunted items…”

“Haunted? As in, ghosts?” Edward leaned forward.

Ell nodded.

“Well, what are we waiting for?! LET’S GO!” Edward shoved the rest of the toast in his mouth and started taking his shirt off.

“HEY! Girl in the room!!” ********************************

“You want… that book?” Ell asked, raising an eyebrow as Edward held up a dusty, old book with some kind of symbol on the cover.

“Yep!” Edward grinned.

Ell breathed in deeply. “Dude, I know it’s your birthday, and I don’t mean to shoot you down on your special day, but I haven’t seen you pick up a book that wasn’t assigned to you for class.”

“Well, unlike you, I do all my recreational reading in the comfort of my own home, and only there,” Edward said, holding the book to his chest. “Besides, this book is just oozing with supernatural stuff. I can feel it in my bones.”

“Alright, if you say so,” Ell shrugged, giving the cashier several hundred dollar bills. “Keep the change, m’theydy.”

The cashier looked confused, but put the money in the register without complaint.

It was almost noon. Time for Ed to get so fucking surprised.

“Hey, Chris just texted me,” Ell said, looking at Edward with a gleam in her eyes. “He asked me to bring you over to his house. He has something for you.”

Edward’s cheeks dusted pink.

“Edward? You alright, buddy?” Ell asked.

“I-I’m fine!” Edward said rather quickly. “L-let’s hurry up.” Ell grinned, grabbed Edward’s hand, and fucking ran. For someone who was the shortest person in Foxfield High School, she was fast.

“Ell, slow down! Christ alive!” Edward cried, stumbling to catch up to his younger friend.

Ell finally screeched to a stop in front of Chris’s house.

“Chris said to just go on in,” Ell said, panting slightly. “I’m gonna go use the bathroom.” She dashed inside the house, opening and shutting the door quickly.

“Okay, everyone! He’s here!” Ell whispered.

“Okay everyone, go and hide!” Chris hissed. “When Ed comes in, count to three, and then jump out and yell, ‘Surprise’! Got that?”

Everyone nodded, scrambling to find a hiding spot. Ell used her powers to turn the lights off as she hid behind the couch next to the twins.

Edward opened the door, entering the dark house. “Hello? Chris?” He squinted, looking around the pitch-black house. “Are you home?”

Ell turned the lights back on, and everyone jumped out from their hiding spots.

“SURPRISE!” Everyone yelled. “HAPPY BIRTHDAY!”

“W-what? A… a party?” Edward looked around the room in disbelief. “You guys set this all up?”

“Actually, it was Chris,” Isaac admitted, elbowing Chris in the side. “He got the idea in the first place. The rest of us helped in our own little ways. I made the decorations, if you can guess.”

Edward held back laughter as he looked at the extremely glittery banner that was hanging on a wall. He turned to Chris. “You planned all of this by yourself?”

Chris nodded, his face turning slightly pink. “It’s your birthday. I wanted to make it really special for you. I hope you like it.”

“Well, I don’t like it.”

Chris felt his heart sink. “O-oh. I’m-”

“I love it!”

Chris blinked. “Y-you do?”

“Yeah!” Edward grinned. “I can’t believe you went through the trouble of planning a huge surprise party just for me. It’s such a great birthday gift.”

Chris looked at Ell from the corner of his eye. She gave him a knowing look, and nodded, as if she was telling her to go for it. Chris took a deep breath.

“Well, can I give you another gift?” Chris asked.

“Sure! What is-”

Chris grabbed Edward, dipped him down, and gave him a long, deep, passionate kiss. Isaac and Nevin fucking sceamed, while everyone else stared in awe.

After thirty thrilling seconds, Chris separated from a blushing Edward.

“Happy birthday,” Chris grinned.

Edward stood there, frozen for a good while, before he smiled back, tears of joy streaming down his face.

“Thank you.”

#sugar's writing #ibvs #edward quinton #chris jackson #isaac beamer #drew jovel #nevin jovel #ell fisher #chredwis #happy birth to ed!!

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thejilyship · 4 years

Text

No Charge

Alright, so I wrote this fic for jilytober, but it kind of got lost in the flood of amazing fics that everyone puts out at the end of the month, and when I went back and read it, I wasn’t thrilled, so I decided to edit it tonight, because @women-inthe-sequel and I were geeking about fem!james recently and I after I started editing it, I saw even more people talking about fem!james, and I just think that everyone should be talking about it because jily can only be improved by them being lesbians. Obviously.

Anyway: “Bartender!AU where the bartender says ‘we don’t charge pretty girls here’ and is then super embarrassed.”

wc: 2k

ff.net | ao3

Jamie Euphemia Potter sometimes worked at a small pub down by the river. Her friend, Emmeline Vance technically worked there, but sometimes she couldn’t come in to work her shift, because her kid was sick, or her babysitter canceled. James had worked there during her days at uni, and now, since it was off season and she wasn’t traveling to play games, she had offered to cover any shifts that Emmeline needed her too.

She was feeling nostalgic as she wiped down the counters, remembering all the times she’d gotten to throw grown men out on their arses because they were too drunk and had run up their tabs too high. She remembered all the hot wing eating contests between her and Sirius and whoever else wanted to try and out eat them. She remembered her and Remus hustling just about everyone at pool and darts. Her and Peter’s rendition of Somebody to Love had left no one wanting for... well they had all wanted them to stop singing actually.

They had had fun here and she was having fun remembering all of it.

The shifts were easy enough, making all the drink orders came back to her like riding a bike, and some of the regulars remembered her and made friendly conversation, something that made the clock tick by faster.

Enter the redhead.

Lily Jane Evans was new to town. Jamie knew that because her old boss, who was also the other bartender, had talked to Lily the first time she’d come into the bar, and then answered all of Jamie’s questions rather patiently.

Well, he had been patient to a point.

“Just go and talk to her yourself, Jamie.” Benjy said, picking up the cash box to take to the back office. “I only spoke with her for like, five minutes. Not even. She’s friendly, I’m sure she won’t bite your head off. Though I’ll likely to if you don’t shut up soon.”

Jamie huffed. “I can’t just go and talk to her.”

“Actually, it’s your job. Go and get her order and ask her your weird stalker questions directly.”

“Fuck off,” Jamie muttered, causing Benjy to laugh at her before he turned around and walked away. The two of them had always gotten on well.

Jamie looked down at the end of the bar where Lily was sitting. She started chewing on her thumb nail as she watched Lily twirl a stray coaster that someone had left on the counter. Her red hair fell in curls, stopping just below her shoulders. Her eyes were wide, round and a beautiful green. There was a light smattering of freckles over her skin, so light that if you weren’t staring at her as intensely as Jamie was, you probably wouldn’t notice them. Long thick lashes, a slender nose that was slightly turned up at the end, and her lips…

Jamie cleared her throat and forced herself to stop staring at the strangers mouth.

Apparently she wasn’t done staring in general though.

She had a bag with her, it was leaning up against the bottom of the stool that she was sitting on and Jamie could see a laptop peeking out of it, a few notebooks, a very fluffy pink pen and when she looked back up at Lily’s face, she realized that she had been caught staring.

Which wasn’t really a surprise now was it. Jamie still flushed.

Lily’s bright green eyes were looking at her curiously, probably wondering why on earth the bartender was staring at her instead of walking down to get her drink order.

Jamie grabbed a rag and started wiping off the counter in front of her to make it look like she was busy. Then she rearranged some of the glasses before she ambled on down to the far end of the bar. This wasn’t a fantastic tactic since she hadn’t been doing anything when Lily had first looked up at her. The look on Lily’s face let her know that it had been a shite plan.

“Evening,” She said, rubbing her palms together before she rested them flat against the bar top and leaned forward, not sure if she was showcasing any particular asset or just going with a pose that would show off whatever Lily might want to look at. If she wanted to look at anything. She might be here to meet a boyfriend or she might think Jamie had been rude instead of stupid. “What can I get you?”

Lily pursed her lips slightly, lips that had been painted a candy pink color, like starbursts. The pink ones were Jamie’s favorite.

“You seem awfully busy. I don’t want to bother you.” Lily looked down the empty bar and Jamie’s heart gave a leap. Not because she was being called out though, but because this girl came to play.

“I always appear to be the busiest when I get caught staring at the customers.” She shrugged a shoulder and pulled the rag down again, wiping down the counter in front of Lily now. “I can always take a break from appearing busy though, to get your order.”

“Right,” Jamie couldn’t tell if Lily was trying to hide a smile because she looked down for a moment and when she looked back up, she just looked as though she were considering her. “Can I have a vodka tonic.”

“Sure thing,” She nodded and walked down the bar again to make the drink.

It was only a moment before she was standing in front of Lily again, sliding the drink across the bar to her. “So you’re new to the area?” She asked, running a hand through her short, messy hair, not realizing that she perhaps shouldn’t know this about Lily seeing as how Lily hadn’t told her.

“And what makes you think that?”

“Never seen you around before,” She tried, shrugging a shoulder. “Also that’s what my boss told me.”

“Gossiping about the customers?”

“Only the really cute ones.” Lily laughed and picked up her drink, taking a quick swig that downed half the alcohol. Jamie wished that she could take a shot or two just then. Calm her nerves a bit.

“Right. But yes, I am new to the area. I moved here two weeks ago for a teaching job.”

“Oh? What year are you teaching?”

“Uni.” Lily corrected. “I’m teaching a uni course on calculus.”

“That sounds dreadful.” Jamie’s forehead crinkled as a hoard of number clouded her brain. And the answer did not match the fluffy pink pen that she’d spotted in Lily’s bag. Or the pink lip gloss. Calculus professors were supposed to be stern and monotonous and old. At least that’s what they had been in Jamie’s experience.

“Well if I want the universities funding, I’m required to teach a course. It was that or teach a gen ed lecture. And I have no desire to talk for two hours straight to a classroom of two hundred scholarship athletes not listening to me.”

“I was a scholarship athlete, so I know what you mean. Some of us are terrible.” Jamie nodded sympathetically and this earned her a laugh. Jamie stood up a bit straighter. “But is calculus really better than that?”

“Numbers come easy to me.” Lily shrugged. “And if you’re taking a calculus class, you’re probably going to try at least a little bit. I can work with that.”

“What is your research about then?” Jamie was leaning on the bar now.

“Oh, well, it’s not just my research. I have a partner. We’re studying the metabolic structures of plants to see if they can be altered or replicated synthetically to repair damage to living tissue on the human body.”

Jamie blinked at her for a moment trying to digest something that sounded as though it had come straight from a science fiction novel. “You want to make plant band aides?”

Lily laughed. “Basically. But bandages that don’t come off. Band aids that become a part of you and work just like the rest of your body.”

“That sounds like some science fiction shit.” James shook her head. “And cool as hell.”

Lily bit her bottom lip and smiled. “Yeah, it is cool as hell.” They smiled at one another for a moment longer than was friendly and then Lily looked down. She swirled her drink and then took a sip. “What do I owe you for this?” She asked, reaching down for her bag.

Jamie shook her head. “Oh no, we don’t charge pretty girls here.” And It was only slightly more than what she’d said earlier, but she still felt the flush creep up her neck.

“That’s absurd.” Lily grinned, though she sat back up, leaving her bag where it was.

“It’s the truth.” Jamie held up her right hand.

“You just get to drink here for free whenever you want then?”

It took her a minute to register and then fully appreciate what Lily had said, but when she did, she started laughing as she reached for a napkin and pulled the pen she carried out from behind her ear. “I like you, Lily Evans.” She started scrawling out her number on the napkin. “And no, that discount only works when I’m the one on this side of the bar, unfortunately.”

“Well that’s probably best. Otherwise it’d be pretty hard to keep the place stocked.”

Jamie quirked a brow, “Are you implying that you think I have a drinking problem?”

Lily laughed and Jamie clicked her pen and stuck it back behind her ear. “No, only that a lot of pretty girls would start hanging around here if-” Lily stopped midsentence as Jamie slide the folded napkin across the bar, stopping it right beside Lily’s drink. She unfolded it and then grinned before looking up at Jamie. Her eyes bright and shinning. “And to think, I almost didn’t come in here.”

Jamie ran her hand through her hair and that flush ran up her neck again. “How tragic that would have been.”

Lily opened her mouth to say something, but Benjy was done playing it cool apparently. “Oi! Potter! I don’t pay you to stand around a flirt!”

Jamie clicked her tongue and spun around to face her boss. “Actually, you do! It’s half of my job!” Lily laughed and Jamie quickly turned back to catch a glimpse of her smile.

“Go and clean the tables in the poolhall or I’ll sack you right now.” He went back into the office and Jamie shook her head.

“He threatens to sack me at least once a shift. And the real kicker is that I don’t even work here really. I’m just covering for a friend.” She shrugged but then reluctantly picked up the rag. “Though I should probably go and do as he says anyway.”

“Probably.” Lily took another drink and then inspected her glass. “You know, I’ll probably be in need of another drink by the time you get back.”

Jamie winked at her, “I’ll be back in a flash.”

“Not too quickly, I’m not trying to get drunk tonight.” Lily called after her.

“Perhaps you need to order some food in a few minutes then.” Jamie turned, walking backward as she talked to Lily now. “Stick around a while and give me the chance to ask you out.”

“I get your number and a date?”

“Yes, I might be jumping the gun, but you’re the one who keep smiling at me like that.” Lily’s smile only got wider at that and so Jamie spun back around and rushed off to clean some tables.

And just like that, Jamie was pretty sure that she was going to be thanking Emmeline for asking her to cover this particular shift, for the rest of her life.

#fel writes #jily #jily au #fem!james #bartender au

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marie-03 · 4 years

Text

No Longer A Ladies Man

Bucky X Fem!Reader

No warnings.

Word count: 2.3k

You pretend to be interested in the jabbering of your friend as she talks about a man she had met down at Coney Island. Apparently he was tall, dark and handsome. Loosely translated, that meant he was most likely an alcoholic who was also, very conveniently, slightly good looking.

"I've told you before, Lila, don't get involved with men who you describe to be 'tall, dark and handsome'. Never once has that gone well for you." You swirl the alcohol around in your glass, bitter bronze splashes over the rim and lands on the sticky table, "Don't you remember. . . what was his name?"

"Mike? Ed? No, Robert." You nod your head when she finally says the right name in her long line of ex-lovers.

She sighs when you knock back the rest of the liquor in your glass. "Yes, Robert. Not only did that man go on a bender each night and knock back gallons of booze by sunrise, but when you weren't there he had a call-girl between your sheets. Funnily enough, you described that souse as tall, dark and handsome too."

Her cheeks flush scarlet, if you didn't know any better, you'd think she was a show girl with make-up ready for a stage. It was clear that she knew you were right, you usually were about these kinds of things.

Never once had your heart been broken. Some may say it's because you were smart enough to do the heart breaking, others would say it's because you steered away from relationships completely. You would agree with the latter. It wasn't intentional, the steering away that is, but you had never found anyone who was capable of both catching your eye and not sleeping with the honey next door.

"What about James? You know, the one who's friends with the kid thats always sick." Lila eyes you, smirking slightly when the tips of your ears turn a faint pink. So, maybe you lied.

"That kid is called Steve and he's older than you." You sit straight, and cast your gaze out towards the bar.

A rushed tune is performed from the corner of the pub, a band of four play various instruments, the most noticeable being the piano. In front of them, on the dance floor, is multiple couples kicking their legs to and fro. You had never understood dancing, plus you had two left feet.

"You never answered my question. What about James?"

You'd be lying if you said you had no feelings for the man with the pretty blue eyes. Ever since he had moved into the house next door, his girl-winning smirk had been stuck in your head and you knew that he knew that. Even now, he sits next to Steve at a table near the dance floor, eyes locked onto your face turned away from him.

"He's a ladies man. Not one bone in that mans body is at all reliable."

Lila wags her brows. "I can think of one bone that seems to be very reliable."

"Don't be crude, Lila." You try to remain serious but can't help but chuckle, "But no. Don't get me wrong, Bucky's a looker but all that man wants to do is get into any woman's unmentionables."

"Hmm, I don't know. Apparently he hasn't shown any interest in any of the woman throwing themselves at him recently." Lila grins when she turns her head, eyes landing on Bucky who quickly looks away from you and starts talking to a very bored Steve.

Your head shakes. "And? I ain't no dreamboat, Lila, he isn't turning away woman for me. I don't think I've even spoke to the man for a few months, we occasionally wave to each other through the window but thats about it."

"Well, he's coming over so you might want to think of some conversation." Your eyes widen as the man in question enters your eye line. He looked as amazing as ever in his navy blue shirt tucked into coal pants. Despite Brooklyn being rather gloomy the last few months, you spot a tan line under the sleeve of his shirt.

Bucky slides into the booth next to you, he grins at Lila who winks in your direction before jumping from her seat and making her way over to a now lonely Steve.

"What brings you here, doll?" You can't help but notice how close he sits to you. His thigh brushes against yours, he leans in closer, grinning down at you with those beautiful baby blues.

"I was here to meet with Lila but you pushed her away, awfully rude, Mister Barnes."

He chuckles, then drawls in that seductive voice of his, "I like the way you say my name, do it again."

"Are you trying to make a pass with me, Buck?"

"Is it working."

You smirk through the red of your cheeks. "Maybe. Buy me a drink and we'll see if it's working then." He bangs his hands against the table in celebration, and stands, heading to the bar. You watch him leave with a smile, though your head was confused as to why you let him flirt with you so easily.

Bucky wasn't the type to get you drunk and take advantage, so you weren't worried about him filling you with alcohol to have ten minutes with you later on. What worried you was that that was all he wanted. Just ten minutes.

It wasn't like you were expecting the man to pop the question right there in the middle of the bar, but you were hoping that maybe, just maybe, one day he would ask the question almost every girl wants to hear.

Plus, unlike every other man you had met, Bucky had both caught your eye and not slept with the honey next door because that honey would be you. However, you wouldn't be against it. Not as a one night stand though, you hated those, especially when one side of the party felt so much more than the other. Watching people leave a bar together almost always broke your heart because although they're having fun, almost always one of them gets hurt when the sun comes back up.

Two empty glasses and a bottle of scotch is placed on the wooden table chipped by years of abuse from bar brawls and overly excited drinkers. "Most ladies like wine." You joke, as he removes the cork and pours the fiery liquid.

"You aren't most ladies." He hands you one of the glasses as he takes a swig from his own. You chuckle when his face screws up at the taste of the alcohol made to attack the taste buds.

"Whats wrong, Buck? Wishing you had that wine now?"

He cocks his head, grinning despite the drink left discarded on the table. "Wine seems more romantic, don't 'cha think?"

"Good job you didn't get wine then." You say, taking a sip from your own glass. Bucky quirks a brow, when he leans forward you don't move away or edge closer.

His lips brush against your ear, the touch sends a shock down your spine. "It's a real shame that you don't see this that way, I'm truly a romantic."

"Sure you are, Buck." You turn your head towards him. Your noses meet, and at this point there was no room between the pair of you.

The bar was like an ice box but Bucky was warmer than the campfires your father would light during your yearly camping trips. It was almost comforting, and strangely it felt like a hug you never wanted to pull away from. "I can show you how romantic I am if you'd let me."

The corners of your lips quirk. "Show me."

He pulls away and stands, holding out a hand for you to take. "May I have this dance, doll?"

"I have two left feet." You slip your hand into his, letting him pull you to your feet.

"It's a good job that I have two arms to keep you up."

The tune played by the now lone piano wasn't one you recognised but instantly loved the second it graced your ears. The man playing had musicians hands, it was like he was born to grace the ebony keys. Unlike most tunes, this one didn't have a ridiculous dance to match the solemn notes and trills that made people want to swing themselves around the room.

At least five other couples were on the tiled floor, swaying and twirling to the music. Everyone else that was in this part of the pub before had left, either because of the music change or because they had someone to bring home for the night.

Bucky places his hand on the small of your back, and entwines the other with your hand thats not clasping his shoulder. He smiles down at you who stares at your feet, making sure they're not going to step on the polished slacks that he wears.

"You're not going to step on my feet." He says it so softly that you're sure you're imagining it.

"I don't want to ruin your shoes." You respond. Bucky shakes his head and stops the pair of you to stand on his own feet, dulling the shine with dried mud.

"They're already ruined." Bucky spins you at the same time as the other men spin their own partners, and pulls you back, flush against his chest. You hesitate, but place your cheek against his shoulder, "(y/n), do you like me?"

Your brow furrows. "In what way?"

"You know what way I mean." He says, looking away from you to Steve who was giving him a thumbs up.

Clearly, your answer was yes, and not because he was quite possibly the prettiest man you had ever set eyes on. No, you liked him because of who he is. Bucky was one of the most loyal people you had ever met, and he was always gentle with you, never once had he raised his voice or directed his rage towards you. Every time the pair of you were together, he would make sure he was next to you at all times, defending you against any man looking in your direction in a way you didn't like.

Then there was the fact that after all the years, your crush had probably turned into something a little bit more. During the day your mind often wondered, and usually, no matter where it wondered to, it always found Bucky. Even when you were at Coney Island, you often found yourself looking for Bucky's face in the crowd of people.

So, it came as no surprise to you when you say, "Yes, and you."

He grins to himself when the song begins to come to close. When the last note is played, Bucky dips you and places a chaste kiss to your neck. "There's a reason that the 'famous ladies man' is no longer a ladies man." With each word, his lips brush against your skin more an more. His confession lands multiple kisses to your neck and leaves you a blushing mess.

"A simple yes would have sufficed." Your voice was quieter than it was meant to be. If Bucky wasn't still holding you at his mercy, he probably wouldn't have heard you.

Your eyes flick from Bucky to the crowd of people gathering to watch the pair of you at the bar. Multiple women scowl, their cherry painted lips cutting into you like sharpened knives ready to kill. Some men, mainly one's you had brushed off in the past, watch Bucky like a pack of hungry wolves ready to snatch up their prey.

"Bucky, people are staring." You can feel his smile against your neck tainted pink as he pulls you to your feet and nods to the pianist to start a new song.

When the new tune plays, Bucky shifts his arms to wrap around your waist. "Let them stare. Let them know that I have the prettiest girl in Brooklyn blushing in my arms." You swat his arm when you blush again.

"You did that on purpose."

"Maybe I did, maybe I didn't."

His forehead rests against yours, and you can't help but look up at him with all the love and adoration you can muster. Which just so happened to be a whole lot. You hadn't felt love before, but if this is what it felt like, you were very much on board with feeling this until you die.

"If you keep looking at me like then I might have to be the ladies man one more time." His eyes darken, their gentle nature being replaced by something that made you slightly weak in the knees. Your smile grows as you press your lips to his, the grip he has on your waist tightening.

Steve and Lila grin from their spot at the booth you previously occupied, the pair of them finally happy to have the pair of you together. For months, Steve had to listen to Bucky whine about you not paying enough attention to him.

Bucky's lips were soft against yours, his touch gentle and on purpose. He didn't want your first kiss to be something that forced the two of you into bed. No, he wanted it to mean something more, mark something more than the first time the pair of you spent the night together.

The cold of the bar is long forgotten when Bucky pulls the pair of you away from the dance floor, and into his arms by the far wall. He pulls his lips away from yours. You whine in protest.

"Everyone's definitely staring now." He says, placing his chin on your shoulder to watch all the disappointed faces ordering drinks at the bar.

You smile. "Let them stare. Let them know that Bucky Barnes is no longer a ladies man because he's mine."

#marvel #bucky imagine #bucky barnes #x reader #imagine #40s bucky #romance

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heyyyharry · 5 years

Text

Chapter 9: On-screen Lover

(from the My Girl Trilogy: Be My Only)

…in which Harry struggles with acting for the first time in his life.

Warning: smut.

Word count: 6.1k

AU: actor!Harry, older!Harry, younger!Y/N, (4-year age gap).

Chapter 8: Sweet 25 - Y/N feels alone at Harry’s birthday party.

Wattpad link

A/N: The song mentioned in the chapter is Don't Keep Driving by The Paper Kites. This chapter is also inspired by The Archer by Taylor Swift (this is where all the anxiety comes from).

Squirming in the soft, warm sheets, Y/N rubbed the remainders of sleep from her eyes to greet the rose-pink light of dawn. She supposed this was something most people would consider beautiful, but she didn't. Perhaps waking up grumpy and alone had clouded her judgment.

She slowly sat up, clinging on to the very last memory of the night before, but with little success. She remembered her and Harry drinking in the back of her car after the party. She remembered having sex on this bed — hot, intense, mind-blowing sex, which caused her to think it might've been just a crazy wet dream. Maybe he had never been here, maybe her brain had made everything up. But soon her doubt was washed away as she saw what he'd left on the nightstand.

Y/N lazily brushed her hair into place with her fingers and picked up the pink notebook to find a sticky note attached to the first page.

Morning, baby!

I was supposed to give this to you after my birthday party, but we got carried away and I forgot. Enjoy reading the other notes.

Your one and only,

Harry :)

Curious, Y/N flipped through her journal to find plenty of colorful sticky notes filled with his sloppy, yet adorable, handwriting. For every entry about him, he'd written a little message to retell the event from his point of view. He talked about how he'd felt when they first met in the treehouse, when he lost Thumper, when she kissed him for the first time and ran away...All the things he had wanted to say to her, but never had a chance to. And for her final entry, he'd added a line right next to her last one.

Your girl, always. (Now you're really my girl, always)

That morning, Y/N strolled down the streets of London, looking like she'd just won the lottery. She felt elated, her footsteps were light as a feather as she not only dodged between grumpy morning pedestrians but also said hello to them. She couldn't wait to see Eddie's reaction to her showing up this early. He would probably freak or even throw on a raincoat in case it started raining indoors.

"Good mor—"

"I'm in emotional distress!" Alice cried out the second Y/N walked in. "Harry Styles has a girlfriend!"

Those words froze her to the spot. She looked at Alice with her mouth agape, but Alice didn't give her time to let that sink in. The girl yanked the phone from Eddie, who was sitting quietly behind the counter, and showed Y/N a photo on Twitter.

"This just got released this morning. He was kissing someone at his birthday party last night!"

Y/N peered at the shot, feeling like her chest might explode. Fortunately, it'd been taken with a terrible camera, from a bad angle that you could mostly see Harry's back. But that one poor quality photo was all it took for Harry Styles to trend on Twitter. Fans were going insane and wanted to know the identity of this 'lucky girl'. Some, especially those who shipped him with Ruby, like Alice here, weren't thrilled at all.

"I'm going to kill myself. True love doesn't exist." Alice slammed her hands on the counter and dropped her head on them dramatically.

Eddie seemed concerned, yet too afraid to speak, so he signaled Y/N to say something.

"Hey, Al, I think..." Y/N trailed off as she shrugged off her coat and hung it up. "I think maybe Ruby and Harry are just...you know...normal friends...They're co-stars after all."

Alice groaned even louder, making Eddie roll his eyes. He nudged her with a pen and said, "at least now you know Ruby's not taken."

The girl lifted her contorted face to glare at him. "Oh please, as if one of us has a shot with her!" But then her eyes lit up, and she turned to Y/N. "Hey, you were at the party last night, right?"

"W-what?"

"I saw the story Isaac posted of you eating sushi."

"Oh, yeah." Y/N faked a laugh. "But I didn't see anything. I was in the house most of the time."

"Was Harry talking to someone there more than the others?"

"N-no, he was with his manager the whole night."

"What about Ruby? Was she there?"

Y/N parted her lips to speak, but thankfully, Eddie cut in, "give her a break, Al. She said she didn't know. Now please get to work."

"Fine!" Alice gave him a shrug. "Guess I'll be at the back using the new books to wipe my tears."

"Hey, if you do that I'll cut down your salary, ya hear me?!" Eddie shouted at the girl before turning back to Y/N.

The poor girl was still in shock. After all, it was the first time she'd gone viral. Though nobody had figured out it was her, she knew it was her in the photo, kissing Harry. And he wasn't just her Harry, he also belonged to everyone who knew and loved him. This feeling in the pit of her stomach made her feel sick. Her heart was beating like a drum, and her palms soaked with sweat. She didn't realize she'd spaced out until Eddie's voice pulled her back to reality.

"Y/N! Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm okay." She nodded fast.

Maybe she was naturally good at faking smiles, maybe Eddie was insensible to her feelings. Either way, she was glad he changed the topic.

"You're not gonna be here on Monday, right?" he asked, to her surprise.

It took her a second to realize that he was talking about Celine's wedding. "Right," she confirmed. "I'll be gone for a week."

The man clicked his tongue in frustration as he heard. "Oh God, I hope Alice's mental state will go back to normal soon."

"Has she ever been normal?"

"You're right. She's always been a little off. Now she's just worse." Sighing, Eddie fixed his glasses and went on, "are you going to the wedding alone? If you need a wedding date, I'm always available."

Wedding date. The voice inside her head sighed at those two words. Celine and Amala still thought that Harry would come back to Holmes Chapel with her to attend their wedding. They didn't know that their best friend was too afraid to ask him, for she already knew what the answer would be. There was no way he could squeeze a wedding in his tight schedule.

"I already have a date." She felt bad for lying to Eddie. But since when did she feel bad for lying? Being in love had really changed her.

"Guess I'm gonna have to take my mum to the movies next weekend," Eddie said with a shrug. "But I'm happy for you, Y/N. I showed up at my aunt's wedding alone and they put me in the kids' table. You wouldn't want that."

"Maybe because you look like one."

"Shut up!" The man waved her off and fixed his glasses. "Okay, get to work. I have to make sure Alice's not crying on my new books."

"Okay, love you, Ed!"

"You don't!"

Eddie had just walked away when Yellow by Coldplay blasted from Y/N's pocket. She didn't need to check who it was, because she'd set that ringtone especially for him.

"Hi." A corner of her mouth lifted as she could feel him smirking on the phone. "They gave us a five-minute break and I miss you," said Harry. His voice was raspy and low, so she imagined him hiding somewhere to make this call. The thought of them being secretive and sneaky when in public always excited her. She loved to think of them as the modern Romeo and Juliet, of course, minus the dying part.

Y/N rested her elbow on the countertop as she held the phone at her ear. "I miss you too," she said, grinning. "Saw your little surprise this morning. I loved it."

"I knew you would." He chuckled lowly. "Have you read any of my notes?"

"Just a few. I'll read the rest when I get home."

"Good." Again, the sound of his stupid smirk made the butterflies in her stomach soar. She found herself picking at the wood and chewing on her lip, like a nervous fourteen-year-old talking to her crush on the phone.

She hated to ruin this happy moment for them, but her anxiety didn't let her enjoy it fully. "Hey, baby," Y/N lowered her voice. "Have you seen the photo?"

"Yeah." He breathed. She could imagine his smile slowly fading. "It's awfully blurry though. No one knows it's you."

"It's taken from inside the house, H."

"I know. My team's trying to find out who took it. I bet it's the Declan twins."

Or Ruby, Y/N thought to herself, but decided not to say it aloud.

"Don't worry, kid. Whoever took that photo probably didn't even know it was you, or else they would've told the whole world already. Everything's fine."

Though Harry sounded calm, she didn't know for sure if that was how he actually felt. However, there was nothing she could do now but to leave it all to him. She'd signed up for this, and now she had to go with the flow.

"Hey, I have something to tell you," she changed the subject. This might not be the best time to pop the question, but since Eddie had brought up the whole 'wedding date' thing, she thought it wouldn't hurt to just ask. "So I'm going back to Holmes Chapel in two days, and I'll stay there for a week for Celine and Amala's wedding."

"You already told me that." He chuckled.

"Yeah, but...like..." Just say it, God damn it! "Would you like to go with me?"

"Back home?"

"I mean...yeah...Would you like to come as my...wedding date? I mean, only if you're free next weekend."

There was a long pause. And his answer was exactly what she had expected. "I'm really sorry, love," he said with a heavy sigh. What came next, however, was completely out of nowhere. "I'll be in Paris for the next two weeks."

"P-Paris?" She felt a lump in a throat and struggled to release the words from her mouth. "You'll be in Paris for what?"

"We're filming some scenes there. I'm...I'm actually...leaving in two days. I was going to tell you last night but..."

Two days?!

"How long have you known about this?"

"Uh..."

"Harry!"

"S-since the first day we started shooting."

His answer felt like an ice bucket in the face for her. She was surprised she hadn't hung up on him yet. "So you've known since the day we officially got together and kept it from me this whole time?"

"No, that's not—" He stopped himself with a hiss. "The trip was supposed to be at the end of next month, but they've made a few changes—"

"I don't care if it's next week or next month! You knew, and you didn't tell me!"

"I'm really sorry." His voice lowered. "Are you...are you mad at me?"

"I'm not," she said, staring at the ceiling.

"Really?" he questioned as if testing the water. "Because I'm pretty mad at myself."

"Look, it's fine. We'll talk more about it tonight, okay?"

"Promise you're not mad at me?"

"Harry..."

"Promise me, please!"

"Fine! I promise I'm not mad at you." Y/N exhaled. She wished she could be mad at him, but then again, people who were in love didn't feel and think the way normal people did in certain situations. With this man, Y/N knew she had gone too far from being sane.

"Good," Harry happily said, probably wearing that boyish grin that she adored. "Now say you love me."

"I love you. Gosh, you're such a baby sometimes."

"I love you too, Bambi," he responded with a light chuckle. "See you at home."

It was the first time he'd referred to her cheap flat as 'home'. He probably didn't even think when he said it. Still, it meant so much to her. It made her feel secure even though this was the most insecure position she had ever been in. And so she kept replaying the word in her head and telling herself that everything would be just fine.

Harry stepped into the shower, fully clothed, toes flinching as they touched the cool tiled floor. His mind was in shreds as he watched the drops trickled down her bare back and slowly looked up to meet her questioning stare. Guilt washed over him like a tidal wave, but he refused to acknowledge it.

Ruby didn't say a word, not asking him to leave, not asking him to stay. She turned her head and resumed bathing her skin gently, letting the lukewarm water darken her hair. The unfamiliar melody she was humming got Harry distracted as he stepped forward, and circled his strong arms around her little waist. He pulled her in, pressing her naked form firmly against his clothed chest. Now his face and neck were flushed, not just because of the steamy shower.

The ex-lover ran her hands across his arms and her body shuddered at his slightest touch. Slowly, she turned around, their eyes met once again. The air almost drained out of his lungs as he finally found the courage to reach for her face. His fingertips followed the water streaming down her cheeks to her neck, then her shoulders and her arms. Ruby breathed out gently as goosebumps pimpled her skin.

Her voice was soft. "I thought you wouldn't come back."

"I...I had to," Harry faltered. "I missed you...so much."

She gave him a bashful smile and then guided his hands to her hips. "I know you did," she said contently.

Without breaking their eye contact, she began to unbutton his shirt, pushing it off his shoulders. Her palms smoothed across the tattoos on his chest, the ones that she'd touched and kissed and tasted too many times before. As she lifted her face, Harry lowered his head.

"Take me," she murmured, her lips ghosting over his. "Show me how much you missed me."

His entire body was on fire, but it wasn't the kind of burn that brought him comfort. Now he was gawking at the naked girl without blinking. Shit. What was he supposed to say next?

"Cut!"

Harry snapped back to reality as all the lights came on and the director told the whole crew to take five. As he followed Ruby out of the shower, two girls from her team came with a big towel to help her get dry and into her robe. The ones on his team tried to do the same to him, but he waved them off and took the towel to do it himself.

"Mon Dieu! What's going on between you two?" asked the French lady in the quirky satin dress as she pointed to Ruby, her eyes on him. "Do you hate her?"

"N-no, I—"

"Then stop acting like you do!" she cried out. "Harry, sweetheart, I love you to death but that was terrible! You were supposed to be her amant, the lover who kept coming back every time she pushed you away! You were supposed to love her more than anything in this world! That wasn't what I saw back there. It felt like she loved you completely and you didn't even want to be with her."

"I'm sorry, Eva. I'll...I'll fix it."

"Non!" The director shook her head. "You cannot do that alone. Both of you, talk to each other and work things out! We'll shoot another scene later and will do this scene again tomorrow."

"But—"

"Early lunch for everyone else!"

As Eva ignored Harry and walked off, he was left alone with Ruby and their gigantic problem. She was wearing the biggest frown, so he expected her to come at him with a her most ruthless comments. But no, she calmly took the towel around his neck and began to help him dry his hair and his face.

Flustered, he pushed her hands away. "It's...it's okay. I can do it myself."

Ruby froze for a second. Her eyes narrowed as she shoved the towel back in his hands. That was how he knew this conversation would not turn out the way their director wanted.

"Look into my eyes and be honest with me," she spoke with her arms crossed. "Do you hate me?"

"No."

"Because if you do, you should say it aloud so we can get it over with."

"I don't hate you." He breathed into his palm and shoved that hand into his damp hair. "But after what happened last night, I don't know if I even want to be around you anymore."

"What I said was wrong, but those were just harmless words!" She rolled her eyes and soon noticed the change in his expression. "Go ahead," said the actress, to his surprise. "I know what you're thinking, so go ahead and say it."

"Did you take that photo?"

"Fuck you," she spat, but made sure not to draw any attention in this room to them. "Look what she's done to you, H. You're worrying about her way too much that it starts to affect everything you do."

"She hasn't done anything to me," he grumbled as she was getting on his nerves. "But what have you done to yourself? Why are you so hateful now? I moved on and I'm in love. Why can't you just be happy for me and fucking accept that?"

Though Ruby appeared unbothered by those words, both of them knew they had never hit her harder. Even so, she didn't allow herself to look vulnerable.

"How you feel about me, and how I feel about you and that girl have nothing to do with this," she asserted, anger overtook her face. "Yes, I'm still in love with you, and I think you two are bad for each other because she will ruin your career. But when the camera starts rolling, we aren't you and me anymore, we're Elia and Jay. So if Jay cannot love Elia because Harry's afraid his little girlfriend can't handle a simple sex scene, then maybe Harry's a terrible actor and should consider giving the role to someone more deserving."

And then she stormed off, leaving him standing there with the damage her cruel and thoughtless words had done.

When Y/N answered the call from her boyfriend, she knew right away that he was drunk. He greeted her with the loudest "I love you, my sweet Bambi!" and jabbered away just to hang up because he needed to pee. A few missed calls and unread messages later, he finally made it back to her place.

He stumbled into the flat with his hair a mess and his shirt half-untucked. The first thing he did was wrap his arms around her waist. The words "I miss you" and "I'm sorry" poured endlessly from his lips. Though drunk, he still remembered how she felt about him visiting her so late and plastered.

Last year, he'd told her that alcohol used to be his coping mechanism. Once he'd started, he didn't know how to stop. Each drink seemed like a better idea, his jokes got funnier and he could flirt with any woman he fancied. He felt more charming and witty and invincible. That was why for months after his scandalous break up with Ruby, he'd had a drinking problem which he'd proudly called therapy. And Y/N guessed it had happened again today. Something bad had happened to him at work and he needed to feel better about himself. It saddened her that he'd chosen alcohol instead of coming home and talking to her.

With a six-foot man glued to her front, Y/N struggled to reach the door and lock it with one hand. His grip around her waist tightened as he hummed into her neck, making her think he would pass out, but then he said, "I kissed her and she was naked...and I didn't like it at all..."

The little confession froze her to the spot. Y/N swallowed as she pulled away and her arms came around his neck, bringing his forehead to hers. "Kiss who? Ruby?"

He nodded with hooded eyes. "I don't wanna hurt you, but I made everyone angry. Do you...do you think...I'm a bad actor?"

"No, of course not." She cupped his flushed cheeks. Although she didn't fully understand the story, she could guess most of it. Now a part of her felt guilty knowing she was the reason he couldn't do his job. He even assumed it was his fault, that he was bad at something he'd been passionate about for most of his life.

"Wait on the couch, I'll draw you a bath," she said, changing the subject, but he kept on nuzzling her neck and refused to let her go.

"What's it that you use?" he asked quietly. "You smell like...like my mother's garden in the spring."

His lovely comparison made her smile. "That's what you would smell like if you were sober and clean."

"I am sober and clean!"

"No, you're not. You need a bath or you'll be sleeping on the couch tonight."

"Will you join me?" He puckered up his lips while slightly tugging at her t-shirt. "Take this off. Get naked and join me."

"Harry..."

"Please? I'll be good. You don't have to fuck me."

Her mouth twitched in amusement as he brushed his nose against hers. She had just taken a shower before he arrived, but a warm bath didn't sound like a bad idea. After all, she desperately needed to get rid of the smell of alcohol on her body.

Taking his hand, she led him to the bathroom and asked him to wait for her to return with some clothes and towels. However, he didn't listen and ended up following her around like a lost puppy. As they waited for the tub to get filled, he sat on the edge with her and tried to braid her hair. The steam helped sober him up, so by the time they finished taking off their clothes, he had become more self-aware.

Y/N sat between his legs, with her back against his chest and her head on his shoulder. She'd made it clear that they were both too exhausted to have sex, but once his fingers had found her clit, her moans encouraged him to continue. The next thing she knew, she was riding him. His head tilted back on his neck, and small grunts snuck passed his lips every time she sunk back down on him, fucking him slow and steady.

It started out as sweet love-making, until Harry couldn't take it anymore and gripped her hips, driving himself into her. She clung to the back of his neck with one hand, the other smacked flat to the tile wall above his head as he thrust harder, sloshing more water out of the tub. She was the first to come, shouting his name as his body tightened and his cock twitched against her sensitive walls. She rode him through his orgasm until there was nothing left of them but heavy limps, numb fingertips, and fireworks exploding in their minds.

Harry panted and bit down lightly on her shoulder as he recovered. Her eyes slowly opened and took in the sight of him chewing on his delicious lip, his brows puckered up, and his eyes lazy. She watched the tiny beads racing down his handsome face, not sure if it was sweat or their bathwater, but she knew they would have to draw another bath.

"No, Harry, I can't. I'm too tired," he mocked and his softened penis slipped out of her, making they both groan.

"You do that voice again and you'll be sucking your own dick," she warned him, her nose scrunched up. The threat made Harry chuckle as he pulled her in and kissed her twice on the mouth.

While waiting for Harry to refill the tub, Y/N went to get her phone and put her playlist on shuffle. She put the phone in a cup, placed it on the sink before joining Harry in the water again. They sat in the same position with her back against his chest.

The light in Y/N's bathroom was bright and sterile, lacking even a trace of warmth. That was why she normally hated to look at herself in her bathroom mirror. All the scars she'd got growing up would shine like a beacon under this light, and then she'd be reminded that she wasn't his perfect girl. But tonight, she wanted to stay here forever with him so he could caress all the places she hated on her body.

Half of this city turning their lights on Like half of this city has an idea Cars slowly passing right down on main street Don't keep on driving, let me say something

"What's the name of this song?" he asked, breaking the silence between them.

"Don't Keep Driving by The Paper Kites," she said with a beam. "You love it?"

He gave her a nod and nibbled at her earlobe. "It's a good song. Makes me feel like I'm driving around the city at night while it's raining."

"Exactly!" She brightened. "I listened to it on repeat while we were apart last year."

"Does it remind you of me?"

His question made her smile. Still, she never answered.

There's nothing wrong with a little space But not right now, don't leave There's nothing wrong with a little time But for the memories, for the good things Don't leave

"Did you write me those notes to make up for the Paris thing?" she asked all of a sudden.

He gave her a nod, but then realized she was facing away from him, so he spoke, "yeah."

"Hmm." Not the response he was hoping to hear.

"Have you read them all?" he went on to make sure she wasn't upset.

She didn't sound upset when she said, "not yet, I'm saving them for when you're not here."

"I'll video-call you every night to see your reaction when you read them."

His chest felt a thousand times lighter when her giggle softened the room, as if her gentle sound could turn this cold light golden and the water warmer.

His heart was full again, but at the same time, he couldn't ignore the melancholy feeling sinking in. He knew that he would miss her a lot when he was away. Two weeks wasn't a long time, but for a relationship as fragile as theirs, it could feel as long as two months or even two years. Who knew what would happen during those two weeks? They had a lot to lose now that they had each other.

Don't leave me Call me Turn around, turn around now Don't run away from me Don't leave, don't leave

The song went on, coming to an end, but its last words were still echoing in his head.

Harry had stayed up all night to mentally prepare himself to reshoot the sex scene. Even though Y/N had reassured him that she trusted him and understood that it was just for his role, he felt as if his lungs were on fire as he stepped into the shower and ran his hands all over his ex's body. But because Ruby continued to give him the silent treatment, he gave a better performance this time and didn't have to reshoot the scene.

Maybe he'd lulled himself into thinking if he didn't interact with Ruby off-camera, then it wouldn't feel like he was cheating on his girlfriend. But how was this fair to Y/N at all? If he were her, he wouldn't be able to stand someone else touching her the way Ruby had touched him, for a movie scene or not. Knowing his girl, he knew that even if his job did bother her, she wouldn't admit it to make him worried. That, unfortunately, made him a thousand times more anxious.

Last night, while drinking alone, he'd thought a lot about what Ruby had said. Though she was wrong about Y/N, she was right about most things, one of which was, he and Y/N might not be right for each other. At least, he might not be right for her. That thought came and went several times since he'd woken up, but he kept brushing it off. Because the last thing he needed right now was self-doubt. He'd struggled so hard to make her his, and now he was afraid that he didn't deserve to have her. That sounded absurd, stupid even. Still, he kept pondering it.

It was around 3 AM when he finished his last scene of the (previous) day. His plane to Paris departed at six-fifteen and he had to be at the airport at five, which gave him less than two hours to rest before the flight. As he got in the car, he immediately phoned his assistant to get his luggage ready and bring it to the airport. Then he asked his driver to take him to Y/N's place.

He had texted her in the afternoon that he might head straight to the airport after finishing work, and also promised to call her when he arrived in Paris. That had been the plan before he changed his mind at the last minute. He couldn't stand leaving without a proper goodbye. For such an emergency, he was glad she'd given him the key to her place. He didn't have to wake her up when he arrived.

Pulling his hoodie over his head, he went to her room, trying not to make a sound, but she had heard him come in and was already staring at the door, expecting him. She watched him take off his jeans, leaving only his t-shirt and boxers on as he slid under the duvets and cuddled her. Though her eyes were red from the lack of sleep, she was smiling, content, and at the same time, wondering.

"Aren't you supposed to be at the airport?" she asked.

"Not yet," he replied, kissing her forehead. "I'll hold you for a moment, and then I'll go."

He expected a cheeky response, but his Bambi didn't make another sound. She was just happy with the fact that he was here, so it didn't take her too long to fall back to sleep. Harry, on the other hand, couldn't close his eyes. Even though he'd set an alarm on his phone, he was wide awake and staring at the ceiling. He feared that if he took some rest, time would fly much faster, then goodbye would come much faster, and he had to leave much faster. He wasn't ready yet.

Lying still, he focused on the sound of her breathing and counted the number of times she talked in her sleep. Eleven in total. She never made sense, but he thought it was endearing because each time she spoke, she would shift closer to him. As time and space slowed down around them, unexpectedly came an ominous thought. Would she be happier if she had stayed with Isaac?

If she'd stayed with Isaac, she wouldn't have to wake up alone, she would never have to worry about her boyfriend making out with someone else and calling it acting, and she would've been able to kiss him in front of his friends at his birthday party. Scared by the thought, he squeezed her tighter. But that was also when the buzzing of his phone told him it was time for him to go.

He tried to be as careful as he could to sneak out without waking her up, but it wasn't his fault that Y/N was sensitive to the quietest noise. Slowly, she stirred awake and sat up as he did. Her voice tore down the gloomy silence of the room.

"Stay with me."

He looked over his shoulder and his heart almost broke when he saw her face. He'd never seen her like this, at least not when she was sober. His girl was tough and independent, and she'd never begged for his attention. But now she was clinging onto him like a little octopus, her face in his neck. He wished he could stay, but sadly, he wasn't the one to decide.

"I have to go now, love."

"No." She shook her head, pouting slightly. He was caught off guard when she snuck her fingers into his boxers and slowly stroked his hardened length up and down.

"Bambi, no." He gasped, his nostrils flared and so did his pupils. Quickly, he seized her wrist and groaned when the warmth of her soft hand left his erection, but he knew if he hadn't stopped her he'd give in and missed that Goddamn flight.

"I'll make it up to you when I get back, baby. I promise," he said, watching her lie back down and cover her face with both hands.

"It's gonna be the longest two weeks of my life," she groaned.

He rubbed her knee, scooting back to the center of the bed and sat with his legs crossed. She propped herself up on her elbow, now lying on her side, looking at him. In this orange bedroom light, her skin looked so warm, and her eyes so dark. He reached out and touched her face, stroking her bottom lip with his thumb. She was hypnotizing him with those sweet doe eyes, her ultimate weapon that got her exactly what she wanted and how she wanted. He had never won a battle against them before.

"What are you—"

"Shh."

Getting on his knees, he lifted her thighs and spread her legs. She was bare under the oversized t-shirt, already glistening and ready for him. He pressed a delicate kiss to her inner thigh, so close to where she needed him the most as his eyes fixated on her, taking in the breathtaking sight of his love with her head tossed back, her eyes shut and mouth agape. If only his mind could take pictures of her looking like this and save them for when he was alone in a different city.

"Harry, please, make me come."

And he'd miss this too, the way she moaned his name and begged for his touch. Smirking, he took her hands which were gripping the pillow and guided them to his hair. "Show me how you want it," he ordered, his breath made her hips buck in his face and she tugged hard, just like he'd asked her to. Who was he to deny her then?

He began with a closed-mouth kiss, followed by a wet and messier one before his tongue stroked into her, lapping at her moisture. Her heat tightened when he pulled away, his mouth returned to her clit as he worked two fingers in and out of her. The slippery sounds were driving her insane. She was a delicious mess when he held her down and lapped his tongue skillfully, not letting her arousal go to waste. Y/N had never come this hard and fast, she thought she might've passed out for a second. Her fists were tight against his skull, but he loved it, he let her ride his face and fingers until she was too spent and delirious to even flinch.

"Oh, shit..."

Harry broke into laughter as he crawled up to attach their lips for a dirty kiss, letting her have a taste of herself before he pulled back to admire her face.

"Hi." He grinned, his dimples were more prominent in the hazy bedroom light. She loved his dimples. She loved his smile. She loved this face. She loved him. When he pulled away and helped her up, her stomach clenched in the most unpleasant way.

He carried her to the bathroom. She hated when he picked her up like a child, but she didn't have a choice as her knees were too weak for her to walk on her own. After getting her cleaned up, they returned to the bedroom and he began putting on his clothes. She sat on the edge of the bed in silence, watching the man she loved get dressed. He wore that black hoodie she'd got for him because she didn't want him to get cold on the plane. She knew he'd got plenty of hoodies that were more expensive and could keep him warm much better. She'd only wanted an excuse to buy him clothes. At least now he could carry her warmth with him to another country.

She walked him to the door. Her heart sank lower to his every step and when he turned back to kiss her goodbye. She held him tightly, arms locked around his neck, inhaling his scent for the last time before he went.

"I love when you're like this." He chuckled. "So clingy."

"Shut up," she rasped, but not letting go. "Call me when you get to the hotel?"

"I will. I love you so much."

"I love you more."

For every single 'I love you's they'd said to each other until now, they had always meant it. But this time, they meant it more than ever. Y/N supposed normal couples didn't say goodbye this way. Some didn't even bother to say goodbye at all when one of them went away for only two weeks. But normal couples didn't have to hide from the rest of the world nor face the never-ending fear of losing each other for the hundredth time. Maybe one day, they could be one of those normal couples. But right now, this was all they got.

After sending him out of the door, Y/N went back inside so she didn't have to watch him leave. It would break her heart and she'd burst into tears and made a fool out of herself.

Telling himself the same thing, Harry rushed down the stairs and didn't look back, not even once.

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