#i know why they’re called soft drinks btw this is just a joke | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

taetaespeaches · 4 years

Note

I remember you once got a question about how the couples handled being separated due to tours, so based on that, what do you think would be the first thing each couple do when the boys return from tour and how would the girls receive them? Btw I loved your last Jimin fic, it was really cute! Have a nice day :)

Hi love! Thank you, I’m glad you enjoyed the fic <3 I seriously love this question so much, the idea of bts coming home to you after being away for so long is just :(( soft. So I decided to turn this into a bulleted type of reaction thing, I hope you enjoy.

p.s. this is completely unedited so please forgive any errors <3

Seokjin:

Probably yells some dorky thing like “Honey, I’m home” when he walks into apartment

Poopsie comes running through the place and jumps into his arms almost knocking him over

She’ll tease him by asking “What did you bring me?”

And he responds with “My handsome face” followed by a squeaky laugh

As she’s rolling her eyes but laughing because she genuinely loves his lame jokes, he finally he kisses her

She probably has a fuck ton of food prepared for him

But the food has to wait because as she goes into the kitchen to show him everything she made, he’s watching her and realizes how fucking much he’s missed this woman

Ends up hugging her really tightly and silly Jin is gone for a moment

Grateful happy Jin is here and he just wants to show his Poopsie how much he missed her and loves her

Ends up having sex in the kitchen and then eats all the food afterwards... sanitary

Yoongi:

He’s way too excited to see Kid but heaven forbid he let her know that

This honey boy probably tells Kid his flight lands later than it does and tries to sneak inside to surprise her- but in a cool way- but the door is unlocked so he ends up cursing her under his breath “how many times do I have to tell her to lock the fucking door”

She’s in the shower and he finds himself making a bee line to the bathroom

Popping his head inside, he casually scolds her as if he wasn’t gone on tour for MONTHS

“Did you lock your door once while I was away, Kid?”

Kid jumps and lets out a small scream of surprise before poking her head out of the shower to see Yoongi standing there with an adorable pout on his lips and fuck she missed that pout

The words “What the fuck are you doing here?” are out of her mouth before she even knows she’s saying them

And he can’t help but flash a gummy grin because it’s such a Kid thing to say

“The door was unlocked so I thought I’d just let myself in”

“Shut up and take your clothes off, Min” and Yoongi thinks of making a smart mouthed comment back but instead he just sheds his clothes before making his way to her

As soon as he reaches the shower their arms are wrapped around each other and she’s kissing all over his face, giving special attention to his lips

So many I missed you’s and I love you’s

Kid probably tells him how happy she is to have him home and he just feels so comfortable and happy and fuck the dude is SO IN LOVE

And they’re naked and in the shower, so might as well fuck I guess

Hoseok:

He’s letting Petal know the entire trip exactly where he’s at so by the time he arrives home, she’s waiting at the door

As soon as the door opens Petal is throwing herself at him and Hobi is struggling to hold all his bags as she attacks his face in kisses

As they kiss, Petal is bitching Hobi out for leaving like “I missed you so much, you’re never allowed to leave again, do you know how hard it is to be in this apartment without you?” and Hobi is giggling against her lips as he agrees to never go away again

She finally let’s him inside fully inside the apartment and they sit on the couch and Hobi talks about all sorts of stuff from tour

He’s babbling away excitedly because so much happened and all he wants to do is share it all with his favorite person (even though he already told her everything as it was happening)

Petal keeps stealing kisses as he talks and eventually he just says fuck it and pins her down on the couch

Goes from talkative and cute to heavy and sexy real fucking fast

Namjoon:

He steps inside and Daisy’s sitting on the couch reading a book and he’s like ?? that’s rather calm but ok

And she looks over the book and goes “Well hello stranger”

And he’s like “What are you reading, Babe?” all casual as he sets his bags down at the door

And she’s like “I’m not, I’m just trying to look nonchalant” and then she throws the book over her head and it lands somewhere on the floor and Joon smiles his stunning dimply smile and runs towards her all dorky like- you know the one

Probably dives on top of her and she’s thinking oh fuck ok dude I know you’re a child trapped in a man’s body but you’re like massive chill but she doesn’t say any of that and instead just laughs and wraps her arms and legs around him like a koala

So much kissing

And giggling

And they have sex almost immediately

And then afterwards they cuddle and hold each other and they just stay there for a couple hours because wow they missed each other a lot

Namjoon probably talks and talks and talks about tour and Daisy loves every second of it because he’s so happy

Jimin:

He steps inside the apartment and Dear is waiting at the kitchen island with a bottle of wine and she has a playlist of their favorite songs playing and he almost cries immediately and she’s sitting there trying to hold her own tears back

And she just says “Welcome home, my love” and he smiles at her and that at the same time they hurry toward each other and meet in the middle and they just hug for a really long time

Like one of those massive tight hugs where they’re swaying their bodies and they’re probably both tearing up and confessing how much they love and missed each other

Keep in mind tours bring out some anxiety for them for a good while because of that time Jimin kinda sorta broke up with Dear while he was on tour

Therefore, when they get reunited, it’s emotional

Probably the one couple that doesn’t have sex super soon after he arrives

Instead they do their favorite pastime- drink wine and slow dance around the apartment

He talks about tour and she listens to every word in awe

She talks about what she’s been up to and he acts as though it’s just as exciting as his tour stories because to him it actually is

They’ve both already heard all of the stories but they’re retelling them because why not

He says something like “As much as I love tour and seeing ARMY, being here with you is the best feeling in the world”

And she’s like ok well I’m madly fucking in love with this guys and she just kisses him so goddamn passionately and then they finally get it in

Taehyung:

Look, Peaches had a plan

She was going to greet him at the door with a lingerie set on and they were going to fuck on every surface of the apartment

But his flight landed a little early and quite frankly she lost track of time anyway

She was probably cleaning and got distracted by an old photo album or some shit- you know how that goes- and all of a sudden her front door opens and she’s like “oh fuck” and looks at the lingerie set sitting on the bed like well shit because she’s just sitting on the floor of her bedroom wearing an old t-shirt from high school and sweatpants

She calls out for him and he follows her voice and as soon as he sees her he’s just overwhelmed with emotion because PEACHES

He strides across the room as soon as she stands to greet him, he wraps his arm around her waist and kisses her so deeply and passionately that she nearly loses her balance

Pulling away to look at her, his gaze is intense as he observes her features, taking in every detail because fuck he missed her

And she’s just like “Do you know how much I missed you, Dearest?” and that has him smiling as he throws her onto the bed

And that’s when he notices the lingerie and he’s like “oh?” and she apologizes for losing track of time

And that’s when Tae finally smiles so fucking big and chuckles boyishly and her heart melts because goddammit she hasn’t seen that boxy smile or heard that adorable laugh in person in SO LONG and she pulls him into a kiss

She promises she’ll put the lingerie on for round two and Tae is giggling as he starts taking her lounge clothes off

Because as much as he appreciates the effort and though of the lingerie, he’s just so fucking in love with Peaches and he missed her even more than he realized

Jungkook:

The man gets his damn romance movie kiss ok? ok.

They have no chill

He texts her to let her know he just pulled up and she runs outside to greet him

As soon as he’s out of the car she’s running at him and he catches her and lifts her and kisses her deeply with her legs wrapped around his waist

Probably sets her on the hood of the car and continues kissing her for a moment

When they finally decide like hey we should go inside and stop making out in front of anyone and everyone, she insists on helping carry his bags and he’s whining about how he doesn’t need help and she’s waving him off

As soon as they’re inside, he has her pinned against the back of the door

“You’re such a brat, I told you I could handle the bags”

And she rolls her eyes and he kisses her deeply

And just as it’s getting heavy, she whispers, “I’m so happy you’re home, baby, I missed you more than I thought was even possible”

Well shit, now Guk is S O F T and he’s pressing his forehead against hers and tears form in his eyes

They just stay like that for a moment, taking in the feeling of being together again after so long

Jungkook probably decides in that moment that he’s going to marry this woman some day because anyone who makes him feel so welcomed and loved and appreciated and comforted and happy when he gets home from tour has got to be worth spending the rest of his life with

What probably was going to be rough sex turns into the most romantic passionate sex they’ve ever fucking had

Afterwards Holly’s like “fuck, you should go on tour more often”

and Kookie is giggling like “yeah? well too bad, good luck getting rid of me ever again”

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darthwheezely · 3 years

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Fredcanons!

Hi Fred Weasley makes me happy so like why not make random headcanons about him? Honestly? Yk? And like this will be the first of many parts I bet, if you want me to do other characters lmk! Anyway, this is gonna be long but honestly I could care less, enjoy fellas

Warnings: diet smut, high calorie diabetes inducing soft Fred, light angst

It’s practically canon at this point but the way this man works with numbers is absolutely insane.

It’s also kind of sexy but I don’t make the rules-

It’s been said before by someone on here that he’s the guy that impresses his dates by being able to automatically calculate tips for dinner dates and the like on the spot, and I adore that so much

Which means, words and abstract concepts can be a bit difficult for our lil ginger golden retriever. As we saw in Order, his handwriting needs a bit of work and so does his grammar - it’s something he’s really self conscious about, too

This boy is obsessed with American baseball

I really don’t know what it is, I think it’s because the men on the diamond hitting a fast flying ball reminds him of Quidditch or maybe it’s the sounds of American girls cheering all of these robust men on-

Regardless, it’s a thing and he loves it, period

Fred finds it horrendously embarrassing, but he had an imaginary friend growing up

Let’s be specific, an imaginary dog. Named Boris.

Molly has basically made it clear enough that raising a large amount of large boys under one roof was kind of like manning an animal shelter already damn molly which led to Fred being hopelessly in despair

So jokes on them, he got his own dog. A big, loud, Australian Shepherd named Boris.

So imagine this lanky five year old like refusing to eat a meal until Boris gets his first and demanding that he takes his own baths because “erm, Boris doesn’t want to bathe with Georgie, mum, he said he smells”

This lead to Fred being told he smells but that’s neither here nor there

Fred had Boris until he was about 7 and then he lost him while playing with the gnomes

This lead Molly to buying Fred and George a goldfish named Boris II: The Return of Boris and they referred to him as that. The whole title. Every time.

Fred was also that kid in middle school (1st-3rd year) that was like lightly obsessed with Canada

“Is it even real?”

“Jesus, Freddie are you even real?”

George stumped him with that one

Freddie became quite the ladies man come 3rd and 4th year, btw

And by ladies man I mean-

“Did it hurt when you fell from heaven...-“

“Oh god, no please don’t say it please don’t say it- (George)

“-because I, too, am still recovering from the impact ;)”

All jokes and funny business side, he did start learning girls found him hot shit and honestly?

He didn’t know how to process that.

He’s so used to being the goofy guy or the cute guy from whatever class or just one of the Weasley’s that like-

Him? Attractive?

Well, shit, better start acting like it then huh?

And thus was born the personality we know Fred to have today

Not saying it’s all manufactured, but he definitely isn’t as 100% cocky and impulsive as everyone would like him to be

More often than not, he’s kind of a nervous person. Would he tell anyone that? Absolutely not, he’s got a reputation to uphold

But he’d be lying if he said he hasn’t found himself laying awake at night wondering if his pranks are cool enough, does his mom like them enough, does George think he’s enough

Does he think he’s enough?

Honestly, he battles with this for a lot of his school time basically up until the shop opens and starts running

Because that is time where he does really begin to blossom as a person in every facet

There’s something about walking into the shop and seeing a gaggle of kids know your name and want to be like you and know you that makes him feel like he did something right

But anyway back to Ladies Man Fred Weasley (please I rolled my eyes so hard)

He is an experienced fella in bed, this is also pretty canon

I mean look, he’s got Bill Freaking Weasley as his older brother

Any questions he ever had he asked Bill

“Look, Freddie, they’re gonna want you to find this thing called the clit-“

“I’m sorry the what?”

“The clitoris, Fredward, take note they’ll dump you on sight if you can’t find it.”

“...”

“Bud, that was a joke-“

“*exhales strongly* OH THANK GOD”

He’s also a consent king. Period.

Consent about literally everything when it comes to sex, if y’all have never slept togsther or have a routine of what you do, expect him to be consistent-“

“Is this okay?”

“Am I hurting you, love?”

“Please tell me if something’s wrong, okay?”

Fred’s favorite thing in the goddamn world is kisses

So many kisses

Please lord Jesus hes in need of kisses

Forehead kisses, arm kisses, leg kisses, eyebrow kisses - if it’s on your body and it’s accessible to him, he’ll kiss it I swear

So please do yourself a favor and kiss him. Please

Or I will-

If you use she/her pronouns, expect this boy to be protective af if y’all are friends

Fred is 100% the guy you can feel totally comfortable giving your drink to at parties

He waits by the bathroom to make sure you’re okay too

Basically just an angel that is all

#fred weasley headcanons #fred weasley imagine #george weasley imagine #george weasley #harry potter imagine #harry potter headcanon #hp #harry potter

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macchiatooru · 4 years

Text

ᴬⁿ ᵃˡˡ⁻ⁿⁱᵍʰᵗᵉʳ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵗʰᵉ ³ʳᵈ ᵍʸᵐ ˢqᵘᵃᵈ?

With Kenma? And Lev and Hinata? Absolute College AU vibes? Despite my doubts about the productivity, I definitely need this. It’s around 1AM as I type, and I literally have three papers to finish, with one due tomorrow. HAHAHAHAHA. (I wrote this note last night, so it’s not entirely applicable now, but well- I have to submit the second tomorrow and the third the following day... I hope HAHAHA)

Note: If you’re also up at such ungodly hours and want to add to this when you’re stuck with a paper too, or a lesson, or something, go ahead! If you want to modify something, don’t hesitate to say it!

The situation, for example, is that you’re writing a paper, and you don’t know how to continue it anymore. Luckily, you have enough options to kill the time until your brain is working properly again. The apartment―whoever owns it, maybe you guys were sharing or had connecting ones or were neighbors or whatnot―would literally look like, I don’t know, a convention? It’s like there are different stalls with different activities. Take your pick!

Tsukishima’s Corner:

I can imagine that he has this set-up in the far end of the living room where he has a table against the wall and a chair with a blanket on it

And he always has a drink with him, whether it’s a soda or an Iced Americano. (that just gave me Yoongi vibes ahhh my heart)

Of course, he has his headphones on. Not surprising.

He’s pretty calm when he does his schoolwork, and his focus is just wow

So, don’t expect him to pay attention to you that much. Again, not surprising.

If you have an actual question though, I think you can ask him!

He’ll help you out, but be wary of the sass and teasing.

It’s highly possible for him to annoy the shit out of you before you guys solve the problem, btw.

If you have chips with you, he’ll take some without asking permission smh but he’s so idufhsdbkfhda can you really say no?

You can get back at him by repetitively calling him “Tsukki”.

“Cut it out.”

“No can do, Tsu~ Kki!”

Emphasize! the! syllables! because he probably lowkey thinks it’s kinda cute

Unless he doesn’t and he throws the blanket at your face to shut you up

Don’t annoy him when he’s in a bad mood, okay?

He’ll really appreciate it if you give him space on those days

But he’ll also appreciate it so so so much if you’re the one who hands him his usual drink.

Despite being the person who could really rile you up the most

He’s actually nice... in his own way!

Lev and Hinata’s “Quiet” Pile of Pillows:

What am I even saying?

There’s nothing quiet about that part of the living room.

Lev and Hinata like studying in their “own kind of comfort”

And that is with their “study” blankets―they have separate ones for sleeping―on the floor and their pillows on top.

They study with the TV on

A series on Netflix is playing the entire time.

Nobody minds, really, because for some reason, most of you can study with some noise in the background. Those who can’t, however, just listen to music on their own.

They have hot or iced chocolate―depends on their mood―made either by you, Akaashi, or Kuroo.

You never asked Bokuto to do it again. Never again.

One time, he made the mistake of giving the “kids” coffee, and well, was that some night.

Lev and Hinata have common classes, so they work on some of their assignments together.

Expect them to be very excited when they get something right and very frustrated when they can’t understand what they’re doing.

Probably just a spot for you to take a quick break, maybe lie your head down on Lev’s favorite pillow to annoy him.

It’s not because he doesn’t want to share, but because you just took it right out of his lap.

They’ll be really happy kiddos if you join them! Please give these babies the attention they need.

Also, it helps to give them snacks to shut them up.

Bokuto’s Spot on the Couch:

That became his permanent spot after Akaashi sent him there because of that one time that big baby reaaally got on his nerves.

He has a pillow supporting his back as he leans against an armrest, legs stretched out in front of him and laptop on his, well, lap. HAHAHA sorry

He also likes working with the TV on, so it was a suitable place for him.

Bokuto’s drink would either be a can of soda or a protein shake.

Keep your phone on standby.

You have to take a pic of the pouty face he makes when he doesn’t get something.

He’s so cute he can have my heart-

“Akaashiiiii~ Why won’t you help me out?”

Akaashi would remind him that not only was he a year higher, but he also had a different major.

*cue Bo’s emo mode with matching droopy hair fml he’s literally so cute*

He gets distracted easily because he never puts his phone on silent

Probably chats with Konoha idk

Or gets carried away watching game highlights.

He already startled all of you a few times.

“OOOOOOOOOOOH. DAAAAAAAAAAAMN. THAT WAS SO GOOD.”

“Bokuto-san-”

If you choose to go to him, he can’t really help you with the paper you’re writing.

However, he gives THE BESTEST HUGS!

I think a lot of us agree that he’s a walking heater, so getting a hug from that beefy boi? Especially when it’s cold?

H E A V E N

Or that’s just me being biased, but is it really just me?

I love him.

Kuroo’s Kitchen Kounter:

Now, I’m definitely sure I’m being biased because- I mean- JUST-

One of the kitchen counters faces the common living area where everyone is spread out.

Imagine walking from wherever you were previously just staring at your laptop with that constant 132 words plastered on the corner of the screen and you’re well-aware that it has to be 2000 by tomorrow

And seeing business-related major Kuroo, sitting on a stool, immersed in his work, Excel sheets and documents being the only inhabitants of his laptop screen?

I’m literally giving myself away I-

He has glasses on and he’s tapping the end of his pen on his chin and at this point I’m hyperventilating

THE FACE HE MAKES WHEN HE CONCENTRATES

From time to time, he would swivel the stool around, take a sip of the black iced coffee he always brews at night, and eat whatever snack was available (e.g. chips, popcorn, sandwiches, instant noodles, sometimes asks Bokuto to make another protein shake, etc.)

He doesn’t really listen to music and can easily drown out the noise on his own because he concentrates so much.

You can always count on him to entertain you

Because despite the amount of focus he puts into his homework and problem sets, he also wants any excuse to tear his eyes of his screen.

He’s good at papers, so he can help you with that in the best way he can

Also asks if you would like to take a break and grab a snack with him

And can be a flirt if he’s in the mood, but when he’s tired, he has a soft and sleepy smile (except he’s not really sleepy because of the coffee, he’s just not putting that much effort)

Although he will annoy and provoke you while the two of you are on break

He’s the best person to cry to when you’re really stressed out.

I want him.

Akaashi’s Atelier:

He literally owns the dining table, his work neatly spread out.

I can almost imagine him studying architecture

But nah I guess he just really likes practicing how to capture anything and everything he can observe

And by capturing, I really mean that there’s a pile of photos there somewhere.

Afterwards, he draws them, paying attention to every detail.

He finishes schoolwork before any of you do.

His concentration surpasses that of Kuroo’s, no joke.

You can’t disturb him when he’s working on his academic requirements, so come back later when he’s sketching the hours away.

If you want to do your paper beside him though? Go.

His concentration is not only top tier but also contagious.

He’ll share the dining table, but only to you and, occasionally, Kuroo.

Bokuto? Only if he’s super emo.

Akaashi’s really nice!

He’ll initiate a conversation with you if you’re taking a break and he’s just on his sketchbook or experimenting with graphic design or something.

If you want to see a passionate but shy Akaashi, ask him what he’s working on.

I just know his eyes will literally light up.

He might be drinking tea, mint tea?

Water most of the time, but he always smells like mint and fresh laundry ahhh be still, my heart

Go to him if you really want to be productive and not get distracted by anything else because his eyes and the way he’s so into what he’s doing might actually be what distracts you

He is the epitome of grace under pressure, such a beautiful human being ha ha ha I wish

Kenma’s Den:

Well, what did you really expect?

Nah, kidding.

Kenma’s the only one in his room because he’s probably streaming.

His audience is mostly up at night, so yeah.

He definitely has ramen, chips, and soda

Which he’s willing to share with you as long as you don’t mess his game up don’t try I swear

Tbh, it’s actually really comforting to stay in his room especially when you’re really stressed out.

You can rest your eyes and take a quick nap.

He knows that he should wake you up after fifteen minutes, so don’t worry about sleeping through the night without finishing your paper.

He’s so sweet please

It’s so comforting to hear his fingers tapping away, a literal lullaby that gets you every time.

At some point, some people probably caught you slipping under his duvet IT WAS YOUR FIRST LOWKEY SCANDAL HAHAHAHAHA

Which lasted for just an hour because Kenma’s viewers knew him enough to know what his facial expressions meant

He definitely can’t help you with your paper. Such a busy boi.

But if he’s in the lobby that’s what you call it, right? of whatever game he’s playing, he’s willing to listen to your rants.

A quiet listener, but you know that he genuinely cares about you.

Massage his shoulders if you can! He likes that.

───── ･｡ﾟ☆: *. ☪ .* :☆ﾟ. ─────

background photo by NeONBRAND on unsplash

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu x reader #third gym squad #tsukishima kei #lev haiba #hinata shoyo #bokuto koutarou #kuroo tetsurou #akaashi keiji #kozume kenma #elle's random rambles #elle isn't sleeping again #I WANT THEM TO BE REAL

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shadowhuntertrash · 3 years

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High Notes

I own nothing

Chapter Six

The day went by quickly and Thomas didn’t have much time to ponder the almost kiss he had with Alastair or the girl's from the coffee shop’s words until dinner that night. Lucie and Cordelia had gone and had an early dinner with Alastair and the other boys had decided to have a late dinner and go ahead and knock the rest of their rehearsal out.

James and Christopher were in a deep discussion about dress rehearsal they had tomorrow and Thomas found himself, once again, under the scrutinizing gaze of Matthew. Thomas moved the fry around on his plate, his hamburger long forgotten. He was too anxious to eat anyway. “Who started it?” Matthew asked in a quiet voice. Thomas raised an eyebrow, “Math I have no earthly idea what you’re talking about.” He said innocently shrugging, Matthew just glared.

“Stop it, we both know you do.” They held eye contact for a minute and Thomas was reminded vaguely of a dominance match between dogs. Thomas gave up with a huff and looked back down at his fries again. “I honestly don’t know. I had a panic attack and then we were just walking and then it just kind of… happened. Lord, that sounds dull.” Matthew smirked at him and Thomas groans, burying his head in his hands. Matthew laughs softly and James looks over at them. “What are we talking about?” James asked, propping his chin on Matthew’s shoulder so he could see Thomas.

Thomas had sat in this booth first, Matthew had sat next to Thomas and then James, the social anxiety impersonation he is, sat next to Matthew instead of sitting in the booth with Christopher. Which led to Thomas, Matthew, and James being squished together and Christopher propping his legs up in his practically empty booth.

They had to sit in the back because most places they go they get noticed by fans and won’t get any peace. It was a habit now (for their band and Alastair and the girls) to ask for a spot in the back or off in a corner somewhere when they went out to eat.

“We’re talking about Thomas and Alastair almost kissing.” Matthew said as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Christopher choked on his drink and James looked at Thomas with wide eyes. “When did that happen!” Christopher said when he had stopped choking. Thomas was sure he resembled a tomato at this point.

He hit Matthew, who was still laughing hysterically, in the arm and slumped further in his seat, hating his height more than anything at the moment. “When we found them, they were about to kiss and then we stumbled upon them and they didn’t.” Matthew frowned and slumped against James. “What a bunch of cock blocks we are.” Matthew said as if it were him that didn’t get to kiss someone he wanted to.

Thomas found himself laughing at Matthew’s forlorn expression and James’s still too wide eyes. “Nothing really happened. We were just walking and talking. We were actually trying to find you guys because I told Matthew twenty minutes and then I realized I was late because I didn’t have my phone on. Sorry about that Math, I know you worry. So I was trying to-”

Matthew cut him off with a raised hand. “Stop rambling it’s okay. I was just picking and James was just a little shocked.” Matthew finished with a shape jab to James’ ribs which seemed to snap James out of his daze. James nodded enthusiastically before looking at Matthew with a wide smile. “Oh my god otp Matthew OTP!” Matthew and Christopher burst out laughing and Thomas slumped impossibly further in his chair. Why did they always have to pick on him?

Matthew dropped his hand on Thoams’ shoulder and Thomas looked at him. Matthew was looking at him with a look that was strictly reserved for James, Thomas, and Christopher. A soft look that was often off putting since he was constantly annoyed or making a joke out of everything and anything.

“You know Tommy we only pick on you because it’s easy with how embarrassed you get. We love you and as much as I dislike Alastair I think you two would be good for each other. Plus,” He added a wink that made Thomas blush before he even heard the next part. “I think you could teach him some well needed manners.” Thomas laughed softly and gave Mattew a pointed look.

“You really shouldn’t make fun of my pining, saying as it is not nearly as bad as yours was.” Matthew put his hand to his chest in mock hurt. “You wound me Thomas. Anyhow even if that was accurate,” He turned to James and stuck his tongue out boyishly. “Which it wasn’t,” He turned back to Thomas who was smiling at his friends. “It isn’t my fault you’re too nice and didn’t pick on me when you had the chance.” Thomas rolled his eyes.

It was common knowledge that Thomas was nice, it was why the fans had dubbed him the ‘Kind One’ or ‘Gentle Giant’ as some others called him. He hated that one thought, gentle giant made him sound dull. They had dubbed Matthew as the ‘Sexy One’, James the ‘Mysterious One’, and Christopher, well Christopher was his own category.

Thomas pushed Matthew playfully and Matthew fell back dramatically accidentally falling on James, causing him to fall out of the seat. “Jesus Math, be careful.” James said taking Matthew’s outstretched hand and getting back to his feet, Matthew was too busy laughing to listen to him.

Thomas sat back watching them, his brothers by all means but blood, and smiled. How did he get so lucky?

When it was time to go back to the hotel rooms, which they were staying in when they weren’t on the road, they all split ways smiling and wishing each other goodnight. Thomas followed Christopher to their room. There were two beds so Thomas knew he could stand staying with Christopher.

Thomas showered as soon as they got to the hotel. Some people thought it was weird but Thomas showered twice a day and washed his hair at least once a day. Matthew always picked on it but Thomas just shrugged it off he didn’t feel clean if he didn’t wash his hair.

Thomas took his time feeling the hot water wash off the stress of the day. As soon as he had got to the quiet hotel room the fans from the diner’s words came back to him. He knew he would spend too much time thinking about this.

He got out of the shower about 40 minutes later and ran his towel through his hair shaking it out. He flopped gracelessly on the bed and groaned. Christopher was fast asleep on the bed next to him, the sound he was making strongly reminded Thomas of a lawnmower.

Thomas grabbed his phone, turned the brightness down, as he began feeling the beginning of a headache, and read the texts he had received.

Matthew Unfairchild:

Sleep well dream of your knight in shining armor <3

Thomas scoffed and replied,

Tommy:

We all know I’m more into Prince Charming. <3

He opened a text from Lucie and smiled at her picture. It was a picture from the first time they went to Disney World. No one else would go with her, Cordelia didn’t like it because she couldn’t stand the lines and decided it was no more magical than Six Flags. James and Matthew had claimed too manly (however it turned out they went two months before without telling anyone), and Christopher, bless his soul, wouldn’t stop going on and on about the mechanisms in the rides and that just made everyone untrustworthy of the shaky rides.

So Thomas had gone with her and they had stayed for two days, riding rides and meeting characters. The picture that made her profile was of her in front of Cinderella’s castle with a bunch of fireworks going off in the background. She was mid jump and a look of pure happiness plastered on her face, she had an ice cream cone in her hand however the ice cream was mid fall.

It was Thomas’ all time favorite picture of her and he was quietly proud of his photography skills. Lucie’s parents, Tessa and Will, had taken one look at the picture and demanded it be framed and hung on the wall of their house. Thomas was proud of that too.

Luce <33:

Matthew told me what happened. I'm so mad at myself. You two were finally gonna kiss and I messed it up I’m so sorry Tommy.

Thomas laughed and shook his head. It seemed everyone was rooting for them and Thomas was quietly pleased. Thomas just hoped he wasn’t going off of false hope.

Tommy:

It’s fine sweetie don’t worry about it. I wasn’t thinking anyway.

Thomas checked his other text to find pictures of Barbara’s engagement ring and a video of her telling our parents about her engagement. Thomas smiled slightly and watched the video with the volume on low knowing exactly how his mom would react. He did however have to turn it up when he couldn’t hear the video over Christopher’s snoring.

He watched as Barbara casually, without words, held up her engagement ring for them to see. Sophie’s hands automatically came up to cover her mouth as her eyes started watering dangerously. Gideon however stared at it not comprehending yet. “He did not!” Sophie all but screamed. He listened as Barbara and Oliver started laughing.

Gideon’s mouth fell open slightly, understanding brightening his eyes. He walked over quickly and hugged her, Sophie joining quickly. The video ended then and Thomas sent his sister a text.

Tommy:

Aww! They’re so proud! I’m proud of you. It was about time Oliver took the next step! Love you tons miss you more!

Thomas opened the last unread message and furrowed his eyebrows, it was an unknown number. Thomas opened it and felt a smile stretching across his face.

Unknown Number:

Hey I asked Lucie for your number hope you don’t mind.

Unknown Number:

It’s Alastair btw lol

Thomas let out a happy sound that immediately made him blush even though Christopher wasn’t awake to hear it. Thomas took a few calming breaths cursing himself for acting like a little girl with a crush.

Tommy:

Oh hey I don’t mind sorry for responding late

Thomas stared down at the message, that was cool right? Not too eager, not too pushy. Thomas sighed roughly and put his phone on the nightstand by their beds. Thomas closed his eyes and replayed the events of the day, the practicing, the boys trying to convince him to sing at a concert, the girls words which were still ringing in his ears much to his dismay, and Alastair.

Daring Alastair with his stupid dyed hair and his face that lights up constantly. Thomas shook his head as if he could physically fling the thoughts from his head. He got up knowing he wasn’t going to be able to sleep yet. Christopher was making sure of that. Thomas knew in the back of his mind that he was probably going to end up in James and Matthew’s room.

Thomas got up and picked up his guitar. It had been a long day and he had written a song but he didn’t want to play it for anyone yet. It was deeper than his normal ones, it was more just words he needed out of his head. Thomas huffs loudly the girls words playing on repeat in his head, he could tell he was getting a migraine but he bit back the pain and started strumming.

I don't know why I just feel I'm better off

Stayin' in the same room I was born in

I look outside and see a whole world better off

Without me in it tryin' to transform it

You are out of my mind, oh

You aren't seein' my side, oh

You waste all this time tryin' to get to me

But you are out of my mind, yeah

Listen, I know

This one's a contradiction because of how happy it sounds

But the lyrics are so down

It's okay though

Because it represents, wait, better yet it is

Who I feel I am right now

You are out of my mind, oh

You aren't seein' my side, oh

You waste all this time tryin' to get to me

But you are out of my mind

Heard you say, "Not today"

Tore the curtains down, windows open, now make a sound

Heard your voice, "there's no choice"

Tore the curtains down, windows open, now make a noise

Oh, don't you test me, no

Just because I play the piano

Doesn't mean I, I'm not willin' to take you down

I'm sorry

I'm, I'm out of my mind, oh

I'm not seein' things right, oh

I waste all this time tryin' to run from you

But I'm, I'm out of my mind

Heard you say, "Not today"

Tore the curtains down, windows open, now make a sound

Heard your voice, "there's no choice"

Tore the curtains down, windows open, now make a noise

Ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, yeah, oh

Ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh

You are out of my mind

You aren't seein' my side

You waste all this time tryin' to get to me

But you are out of my mind

Heard you say, "Not today"

Tore the curtains down, windows open, now make a sound

Heard your voice, "there's no choice"

Tore the curtains down, windows open, now make a noise

Thomas sighed and sat his guitar down rubbing his forehead with one hand. He got migraines when he had stressful days, which in all honesty were more often than not. Maybe he could ask Matthew for migraine medicine, he was sure to have some.

Thomas got up and jot down a message telling Christopher where he went in case he woke up, which wasn’t likely but he didn’t want to risk it. He put some sunglasses on because the yellow lighting in the halls made his head worse and walked down to James and Matthew’s room which was only three doors down.

Everyone knew where the others were sleeping in case of emergency or if they just wanted to hang out.

Thomas was about to knock when he heard some noises coming from inside. He furrowed his eyebrows wondering the hell they could be doing to make that racket. He could hear the bed hitting the wall and realization dawned on him. Crap.

Thomas whined softly knowing that he couldn’t get Matthew’s medicine now. He blushed furiously and walked away from their door quickly trying to erase the noises he had just heard. He sighed and shook his head stopping for a moment when a sharp wave of pain hit him and he stumbled slightly.

Thomas put his hand on the wall and walked slowly to Lucie and Cordelia’s room slowly, waiting for the room to stop spinning. He cursed when he stood in front of the door. He knocked sharply not wanting to be too loud in case they were asleep. He stood there for a few minutes before he turned to head back to his room deciding to wait it out.

The door opened as Thomas took his second step. Thomas let out a noise of relief. “Lucie-” He started softly before realizing that it wasn’t Lucie standing there, it wasn’t Cordelia either. It was Alasatiar.

Thomas looked at him for a while trying to wrap his head around why Alastair was there before slowly realizing that this wasn’t the girls room it was Alastair’s. Thomas groaned loudly and stumbled slightly. Alastair’s eyes, normally playful and joyous, were now darkening; he was practically scowling and Thomas shrunk away.

“Lightwood please don’t tell me you’re wasted.” Alastair said glaring Thomas shook his head and promptly sat down when the room spun too fast. Thomas let out an exasperated laugh. Alastair was now looking at him with concern, all annoyance gone. “Lightwood what’s wrong with you?” He said squatting down so he was eye level with Thomas.

Thomas looked at him in confusion before shrugging trying to ignore the pounding in his head. He hadn’t meant to be here and it was quite embarrassing to be a stumbling, collapsing mess in front of someone he cared so much to impress or at least not embarrass himself in front of. Alastair’s eyes narrowed, not a glare, but a look that said stop lying.

“Thomas you all but collapsed in front of me and you’re saying there’s nothing wrong?” Thomas let out a small noise. “James and Matthew are shagging.” Alastair’s eyebrows shot up. That was obviously not what he was expecting, Thomas laughed. “And this affects you and I how?” I close my eyes, the pain radiating and pulsing in my head.

“I needed his medicine.” I explain quietly trying to show him he needed to be quiet. He seemed to take the message because the next time he spoke it was significantly quieter. “Thomas what medicine?” Thomas furrowed his brows trying to think of the name giving up quickly when that just made the pain in his head worse. He really really hated migraines.

“Thomas,” Alastair said, now kneeling in front of Thomas. He looked slightly desperate and Thomas took a moment to appreciate that he had never seen Alastair look like that before. “Thomas come on what medicine.” I pat his shoulder and stand up shakily. “It’s alright I actually meant to go to Lucie’s room.”

Alasatir gave him a serious look and took his hand gently leading him inside the cold hotel room. “Thomas just come here and what medicine do you need?” Thomas didn’t even try to fight him, knowing Alastair was too stubborn to let him go easily. He was attempting to ignore the fact that his head was steadily getting worse and how his stomach was flipping dangerously. “Migraine.” Thomas said simply, answering Alastair’s question as best he could. Alastair looked at him wearily.

“Is that what’s going on? You have a migraine?” Thomas nodded and that was all it took to push him overboard. Thomas gasped and stood up quickly stumbling to the bathroom and barely making it in time to empty out his stomach in the toilet. He felt a hand on his back and soothing words but the burn in his throat and throbbing in his head was all he could think about.

“Thomas, I’m going to go get some medicine okay? Do you want me to stay or are you going to be okay for a minute?” Thomas just groaned in response and continued emptying his stomach contents. He honestly didn’t believe he had much in his stomach because he hadn’t eaten much that day but he was being proven wrong.

He felt the hand leave his back and he threw up a little more before sitting back and resting his back on the bathtub. Thomas groaned in embarrassment when he realized that not only had he accidentally come to Alastair’s room, collapsed in front of him, and was dragged into his room, but he had also thrown up in front of him.

Thomas didn’t get much time to ponder that thought because Alastair came back with pills and water. His face was calm but his eyes were slightly panicked. Thomas wondered if he was the only one who could see it or if Alastair just showed it obviously.

Thomas took the water gratefully and drank it quickly, onl stopping when Alastair put a hand on his and carefully lowered it, taking the glass with it. “I brought you some medicine too. It’s not migraine medicine but it should help a little.” Thomas nodded, head still throbbing and took the small pills Alastair had offered him. He threw them back easily and swallowed them dry, taking the drink back from Alastair’s frozen hand.

Alastair was watching him with a dark look in his eyes, something Thomas couldn’t place but he knew it wasn’t bad. Not the kind of look Alastair had when he thought Thomas was drunk. Thomas shuddered and finished the water. Alastair helped him up and put his arm around Thomas’ waist to keep him steady.

Thomas flopped on the bed, not unlike he had earlier that night and sighed. His stomach didn’t feel as bad but his head was still pounding. Alastair sighed and sat up against the headboard, holding his arm out, inviting Thomas closer.

Thomas didn’t have to be told twice. He all but collapsed on Alastair’s lap. Thomas hummed contentedly as Alastair ran his fingers through his hair. Thomas grunted when he couldn’t find a comfortable position with his sunglasses off. Alastair gently tugged his glasses off and Thomas groaned as a new wave of pain hit him when his eyes saw the light. Alastair quickly blocked the light with his hand and leaned over to turn off the lamp.

The room was plunged into darkness and Thomas just cuddled deeper into Alastair’s lap. He could vaguely remember that this wasn’t his room and he shouldn’t be doing this but need to sleep, most likely due to the pills, was overwaying his ability to freak out properly. When Alastair started humming he couldn’t keep himself aware of much anymore.

One thing Thomas was aware of was the fact that Alastair’s fingers felt good in his hair. Thomas wondered what it felt like to run his fingers through Alastair’s hair. To bring his face closer. To kiss him.

There were so many things he wanted to do and a massive inability to do any of it. Thomas was decidedly ready to tell Alastair how he felt. If he were any more awake he might have even done it right then, but he knew he was far too gone to do it.

Thomas listened to Alastair’s quiet humming and decided that he would tell him over a song. Thomas shifted slightly so his head was resting more on Alastair’s thigh and smiled tiredly. “Alastair?” The man in question made a noise in place of an answer. “I’m going to sing my song.” He realized too late that that probably made no sense whatsoever but it seemed Alastair understood because he beamed at Thomas and ruffled his hair slightly. “I’m glad. I love hearing you sing. I’m proud of you for deciding to do it.”

Thomas hummed non-committedly. “Only for you.” He mumbled before his eyes slipped closed against his will and his mind gave way to dreams. He could have sworn right before he fell asleep that he felt someone kiss his head, but he chalked it up to sleep and want.

#thomas and alastair #thomastair #thomas x alastair #fanfiction #tlh #the last hours #high notes #other tags im too lazy for

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aleksandermorozovaa · 4 years

Text

Over Cookies? - Part 2

Since you all seemed to love the first part, which thank you for the love and support btw (each of your asks meant so much to me! I read them all and my heart melted tysm)! If you want to be tagged in my writing or have any requests please let me know!

Part 1

AO3 Link

Tags:

@commanderbensolo @direnightshade

He’d sat at the top of the stairs for what felt like an eternity before he’d given up and made his way back down stairs, but not before telling Henry he was there when he wanted to talk, that he wasn’t mad, that you weren’t mad. That he wasn’t in trouble.

Charlie suspected there was more going on inside Henry’s head than just burning cookies. He just needed to make sure that Henry knew he was there for him, that he’d listen whenever he was ready to share. None of that helicopter parenting Nicole and her mother insisted on. He knew from experience that the more you hound someone to open up to you the more they turn inward, hide their feelings. So he’d stumbled downstairs, turned off the oven which had still been on.

He’d put his laptop away not long after getting it out, deciding work was pointless when every little noise drew his attention, to the front door and your missing coat and then to the stairs, hoping Henry had come out his room.

But everytime, there was nothing. You were still gone and Henry was still upset. He’d sent you texts, asking you to let him know you were okay, you’d replied quickly reassuring him. He was thankful for that, that you didn’t leave him filled with anxiety.

Eventually he’d heard the tell tale jingle of keys as you slid your key into the lock. You’d often jingle as you walked, with your mass of key chains you had attached to your keys. It was beyond him why you did it, other than making it easier to find your keys in your purse. When he’d asked you you’d rolled your eyes and told him each one held a special memory that you wanted to keep close to you, you’d talked him through each of them, ending on a shard of tigers' eyes. A brown and almost honey gold precious stone.

You’d told him you’d seen it at a street stall and the colour had reminded you of his eyes, the little card next to it explained that tigers' eyes was supposed to make you feel confident, free from anxiety and safe. The exact way he’d made you feel; so you’d bought it and it had quickly become your favourite key chain. Letting you carry his presence around with you no matter how far away he was.

It was the sweetest thing he’d ever heard. That had been the first time he’d told you he loved you and not a day had gone by since where he hadn’t repeated those words.

The door clicked shut, he watched you shrug your coat off, in your hands was a little paper bag and the tray filled with three coffee cups from the independent coffee shop a few blocks away, you claimed they made the best coffee in the entire world, he hadn’t bothered to argue with you about it.

He shot from his chair and moved over to you, taking the tray from your hands so you could slip your arm from your coat and hang it. You smiled up at him, thankful for the help.

“How is he?” You ask with a small frown. Your concern for Henry always blew him away. The way you knew and understood that Henry came first in his life, that Henry's well being and happiness was his propriety.

It was a relief honestly he'd heard stories from other single fathers in his directors social circles. About the women they dated post divorce, they were clingy and easily jealous of anyone else in their lives. Charlie thought they made these poor women out to be like cats or children not girlfriends. Either way he’d been relieved when you were anything but. He was the one that had become clingy, wanting to spend as much time with you as possible wanting to fill the loneliness in his heart and the emptiness in his home. He wanted to surround himself with only you.

"He's not speaking to me. He won't even unlock the door to let me in." Charlie sighed and opened his arms slightly hoping you would take the invitation to let him hold you.

You did, moving forward and wrapping your arms tight around his middle, your cheek pressing into his chest, the hand not holding the drinks tray wrapped around you in return. You smelt of cold crisp air and the perfume he'd gotten you for your birthday a few months ago. He could never really pick up what the notes were, it wasn't exactly his area of expertise. But it was a scent he'd never forget, he'd come to think of it as home.

“Can I go up?” You ask, pulling out of his embrace. Charlie nodded, he wasn’t sure Henry would open up to you but if you wanted to try he wouldn’t stop you.

“I got you coffee.” You said gesturing to the cup tray in his hands. “Oatmilk just like you like.”

“Thank you.” Coffee always helps to calm him down, there was something about holding a hot cup that brought comfort and peace. You take the smallest cup from the carrier, he notices a tiny cartoon drawn on the side, he wonders briefly if you did that or if you asked the barista to, but then the unmistakable lines of your handwriting catch his eye.

You lean up to kiss his cheek before making your way up the stairs. Charlie hangs about at the bottom, resting his hands on the banister and his chin on top.

“Henry.” You say softly, you don’t knock like he had. “I know you’re upset with me right now.”

You pause as if expecting Henry to tell you to go away, Charlie expects it too but Henry stays silent.

“I’m not going to ask you to speak to me or anything like that, but I got you a hot chocolate. And one of those little tomato and mozzarella pastries you like. I even asked them to take the basil off. I’ll leave them outside your door for you okay?” You came back downstairs after that, back to Charlie’s waiting arms.

Sleep struggled to claim him that night. He’d tossed and turned, unable to get comfortable. He knew he was keeping you up with it so he’d gone back downstairs to get a glass of water. Hopefully giving you time to get to sleep without his restlessness. He’d stopped outside Henry’s room to pick up the empty paper food bag. The cup was probably sitting on his desk half cold. He’d picked up his mother’s annoying habit of not finishing drinks. But that's okay. At least he’d eaten.

He’d spent some time sitting at the breakfast counter in the kitchen, after putting the cookies in the fridge with the leftover dough. He’d of course eaten two of them, unable to stop himself they’d crumbled in his mouth, they’d tasted a little over cooked but it didn’t ruin how nice they were.

He’d made some notes in his notebook and then ended up doodling instead so he’d refilled his glass of water and carried it back upstairs.

"I don't hate you Y/N,"

"I know." The conversation caught his ears as he reached the top of the stairs causing him to stop in his tracks. The door to Henry's room was wide open as well as the door to tour shared room. You'd turned the bedside lamp on, the light gently illuminating the room and the landing.

"You're nice and kind and you tell the funniest jokes." Charlie smiled at that, you had a little joke book stores away sometimes the week leading up to Henry's visits; he'd find you sitting highlighting jokes or writing them down from the internet. Every morning when Henry came down for breakfast you'd tell him and he always loved them.

"But what if I'm like the cookies."

"What do you mean bug?" you'd called Henry bug since the first day you'd met him. The first thing Henry had done was show you the tiny ladybird that had landed on his hand. Together you'd counted the spots and told each other facts about ladybirds. Henry's were all simple little things he'd learnt in school but you'd always act like it was the most exciting thing.

"You said that we could just make some more because they're not perfect. What if you do that to me? What if you replace me?"

Charlie's heart was in this throat, tears pricking his eyes. Finally understanding the cause of all this. He stepped into the bedroom placing his glass of water and the dresser and then climbing into bed, sandwiching Henry in.

He saw how that Henry was pressed right up against, your arms wrapped around him. you his eyes rimmed red. He'd been crying.

"We'd never ever replace you bug. Ever.”

“Zola’s dad had another baby and she never sees him anymore.” Charlie reached out to his son then stroking his hair. He thought that he was replaceable? That’s where this had all come from.

“That’s never going to happen.” Charlie said, holding back the sob in his throat. “Henry I’d never ever not love you.”

“Really? Henry turns to face him, the tears now visible on his cheek. “Even if you had another baby? One that was better than me?”

“Nothing could be better than you bug.” You say with a smile.

“Even if me and Y/N did have a baby,” Charlie pauses then to look at you, neither of you had ever really mentioned children yet, he had thought about it, what you’d look like pregnant. How much of a good mother you would be. He knew it was something he wanted eventually, but not yet. He could tell just by the soft encouraging smile on your face, that this was something you’d considered too. In any other situation he’d have celebrated, been so happy that you were committed to him enough to think about children. But it wasn’t the time.

“You would be just as important, I’d never leave you Henry. I need you to know that. I love you more than anything.”

Henry nodded and moved closer so that he was wrapped in Charlie’s. You shuffled closer as well your arm coming to rest over Henry and rest on Charlie’s waist.

“Dad?”

Charlie hummed.

“I love you.” a pause. “I love you too Y/N.” To his knowledge that was the time he’d said he loved you. Your eyes were closed but he saw the grin spread across your lips.

“And we you bug. Now get some sleep, we’ve got a long day of cookie decorating tomorrow.”

Charlie wasn't a fan of co sleeping. But tonight, just this once it was okay.

#charle barber x reader #charlie barber x you #charlie barber #my writing #wife me charlie barber YOU FUCKING BEAST #Love of my life #adam driver #shatter my knees you fuckable redwood

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wonderrdies · 4 years

Text

fine line

summary: Boy and girl meet. Boy and girl fall in love. Boy and girl live happily ever after. Except boy is Harry Styles and even when love comes easy, it doesn’t come simple.

disclaimer: this is my first harry fic ever so... how terrifying. also, it is pure self-indulgent garbage and I Frankenstein-ed the shit out of it a dozen times so y’all are gonna have to forgive me. let’s do this. (btw thank you to @hsogolden for this challenge; there’s nothing quite like a goal that makes you force yourself to write)

warnings: some fluff, some angst, a tiny bit of smut and a whole lotta nonsense.

word-count: about 6,000 words

“Come on,” She yells up the stairs. “Daddy’s here!”

“Coming!” the four-year-old yells back, sock-clad feet hitting the stairs with a muffled thud.

“Jamie,” Harry calls, not as loud as they are. He knows his son can’t see him, but surely he can hear his voice; it’s not the biggest of houses. “Don’t run down the stairs. It’s dangerous.”

A quiet and frustrated okay, Daddy is heard in the background, and both the adults smile softly. Jamie’s a cute kid.

“I’m dropping him off at my mum’s and I’ll be back in a couple of hours, okay?”

She raises an eyebrow. “It’s Tuesday night. Don’t you have a song to write or whatever?”

“Can’t really miss my girl’s birthday, can I?”

She laughs, surprised, and the sound of it reminds Harry of the shy girl he met at a bar all those years ago. “It’s not my birthday yet, H.”

“Still,” Harry takes a second to look behind her and check on their son, who’s putting on his shoes while his backpack and a few toys are scattered around him. “Need any help, mate?”

Jamie mutters an agreement so She shifts in the door to let Harry in, and his own face stares back at him from a bunch of family pictures all over the shelves. He kneels beside his child and starts mindlessly tying his shoelaces, turning his attention back to her.

“You should dress up.”

“Harry,” she scoffs. “Is that an insult?”

“Nope,” he pops the p just as he finishes with Jamie’s shoes. “Get your stuff, Jamie. Let’s go see Nana.”

“Can we get milkshakes?”

“Sure, mate,” but She’s glaring at him. “Tomorrow, when it’s not so late, though.”

“But Daddy—”

“Tomorrow, baby.” She interrupts. With a kiss on their son’s brown curls, she says: “Go wait for Daddy in the car. And behave at your Nana’s. I love you.”

Jamie walks away with a “Love you, Mommy”, stuffed kitten under one of his arms and his half-closed backpack hanging on the other. Harry bends over to pick up his other toys but She stops him with a gesture. “Don’t bother, H. I’ll clean it up once you’re gone.”

“I was gonna take them with us.”

“It’s just one night, he won’t miss them,” She pauses. “Too much.”

“Guess mum will just have to entertain him, then,” he drops the toys on the couch and smiles at her. “Be ready, huh? I’ll text you when I’m near.”

“Okay. Where are we going?”

“Let’s get a drink. For old time’s sake.”

She nods, looking suspicious. Then his fingertips brush her cheek and her eyes soften.

“Let’s just not get wasted on a school-night, okay?”

“We’ll be alright, love,” he says, kissing the soft cheek he just touched. It feels like home against Harry’s lips.

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

7 years earlier…

Harry doesn’t notice her for a while. They’re both sitting at the bar counter, only one empty stool between the two of them, but the lighting is dim and the girl looks as closed off as one can get; stiff posture and hair hanging over her face while she stares straight ahead into the liquor shelf behind the bartender. Up until that point, she could be furniture for all he cares.

Tonight, up until that point, he had been reveling in his loneliness. Harry wasn’t one to enjoy being alone much, but after months of touring, family holidays, and being surrounded by more people than he can even imagine at any given time, he got the appeal of listening to his own thoughts for a while. Even if it made him a little restless after a few weeks of it. Even if he caught himself with his mouth open, about to make a random remark on the cute bartender or the questionable music at least twice. Even if he bounced his leg nonstop and grabbed his phone every five minutes, pondering on who to call for company.

So maybe he wasn’t reveling in the loneliness anymore. But he had dressed as ordinarily as humanly possible without wearing jeans (there were no pearls or high-heeled boots in sight) and was drinking beer instead of a Cosmo, blending in. He had to make the most of it. What could he tell himself that he didn’t already know? Maybe, Harry thought, I’m just not that interesting. If he couldn’t stand to spend half an hour hanging out with himself, had people been lying to him? He could feel the spiraling begin.

And then his song starts playing.

At the sound of his voice coming from the speakers, she turns her head. Her hair moves away with the movement, the corner of her lips twitching as if she’s about to smile. She doesn’t, but that’s when Harry notices her. The girl’s mouth moves and he’s pretty sure that if he were just a little bit closer, there’d be a faint whisper of stop your crying, baby, it’s a sign of the times. He wishes he could hear it.

He continues to shoot sideway glances, not wanting to make her uncomfortable by staring. He’s not sure he wants to be noticed, either. She’s a pretty girl singing along to one of his songs; there are many of those. He doesn’t really want to make a scene. But then again, what’s the chance that this woman won’t turn her head at all for however long they’re there?

Before he can worry about that answer, it happens. The bartender is cleaning the end of the counter to Harry’s right, and she shifts to order another drink. As soon as she does, their eyes meet. It doesn’t matter that he’s wearing a baseball hat or a beige knitted sweater and black slacks, she knows he’s Harry Styles. The more the thinks about it, the more self-conscious he becomes. Of course he’s hiding something; who wears that kind of outfit to a bar?

“Hey,” he softly says. He’s not sure how this will go, but so far it feels better than trying to entertain himself. Better than wondering.

Her hand shakes around the glass, empty except for the lime and melting ice, but her voice doesn’t quiver. “Hello.”

“Can I get your drink for you?”

“You don’t have to.”

“It’s fine,” he calls over the bartender. “Can we get another of what she’s having? And a Cosmo.”

What the hell, he figures. It’s not like any of the few middle-aged people in tables around them will see a pink cocktail and suddenly wonder “Isn’t that…?”. Either they recognize him or don’t. When the bartender nods, he turns back to her.

“You’re not from here, are you?”

She shakes her head no.

“America?”

“Not the United States, no.”

He’s about to guess Canada, even if her accent doesn’t sound like that at all, and make a fool out of himself when she says: “I’m not a native English speaker. I teach English back home.”

“Really!” his excitement is the first thing to get a smile out of her. It kinda throws him off for a second; it comes and goes quickly, but her whole face changes around it. Looking away for a second, he notices that their drinks are about to be ready. “Can I —” Harry gestures to the stool between them.

The girl nods, and he comes closer. Their knees touch when he sits.

“Are you here for work?”

“No,” the side of her mouth twitches again. “What about you?”

“I’m home. Just taking some time off.”

“At this time of the year? Sounds like a cool job.”

It’s a bad joke, but he plays into it anyway. “Meh,” Harry shrugs. “It pays the bills.”

“Good for you,” she laughs quietly. “I got this trip for my birthday.”

“Well, happy birthday!”

“It’s not today.”

The bartender places their drinks on the counter, the liquid sloshing around a bit, and a little bit of her gin and tonic spills over her hand. “God,” the bartender says. “Sorry, I’ll get—”

“Don’t worry,” she smiles as if to say it’s okay. Then she licks the back of her hand and then her lips. Harry moves uncomfortably in his seat.

“So,” he says once the bartender leaves, taking a sip of his Cosmopolitan. Way better than that shitty beer. “Am I the first or last person to wish you a happy birthday?”

“First. I’ll turn twenty-two in two days.”

“It was an honor to get it wrong, then.”

“Not very subtle, are you?”

He blushes. Actually blushes.

There’s a silent beat where she seems torn between laughing awkwardly or just straight up bolting out of the room, but the girl settles on chugging her cocktail while Harry stutters.

“I’m —” they start at the same time.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t —” he stops himself from saying he didn’t mean to flirt. He did mean to flirt. Harry just didn’t mean to be so shit at it. So he settles for: “I just noticed you singing along.”

She brings her drink back to her lips, as if asking for some time to think of what to say, but half a cocktail isn’t enough to hide her smile. He’s staring so intently that she tips the glass towards him and genuinely asks “Do you want a sip?”

Harry just shakes his head no.

“Um, yeah,” the girl starts. “I’m a big fan of yours— your work, I guess.”

“Did you go to any of the shows last year?”

“I couldn’t,” she admits. “But I’ve seen some videos. You looked like you were having fun.”

The comment makes him smile. “I really was. Where are you from? Didn’t I go to your country?”

He realizes then that he sounds pretentious. Maybe she just didn’t want to go to the fucking concert; why is he questioning this stranger as if she’s missed his sweet sixteen? Maybe she’s not even a fan and just heard his single on the radio once. God, what a disaster.

The girl looks embarrassed, like she can’t believe she’s telling him this but won’t shy away from speaking. She tells him the name of her country and explains that she doesn’t live anywhere near the big cities where he played, so she couldn’t afford the trip.

“But if you’re ever passing by again…”

“I’ll let you know,” he says. She laughs quietly, but Harry isn’t really joking. He can see himself texting a nice girl and asking her to come and watch him sing. He’s certainly more impressive up on the stage than here, doing whatever it is that he’s doing right now. “Are you traveling by yourself?”

She hesitates to answer and it makes him cringe. “I sounded like a creep, didn’t I? Jesus. I don’t know what’s wrong with me today.”

“Don’t worry about it,” and there it is again, the wide smile that changes her face. Out of all the things Harry Styles could do to charm a woman, acting socially inept isn’t the one he figured would win over a foreign English teacher that hangs out at random London bars for middle-aged couples on awkward dates. But here they are and the more he fucks up, the more she looks relaxed.

Harry decides to take what he can get. “I guess I haven’t been getting enough practice talking to strangers lately.”

She’s still smiling, not as wide but just as bright. “I’d probably want a break from people too if I were you. I got here yesterday and I’m already done talking to strangers. I knew it’d be hard to get around in another continent but this is a whole other level; I can’t walk two meters without asking someone for directions.”

He raises an eyebrow, teasing. “Is Google Maps not doing it for you?”

“Shut up,” she chuckles. “Data is expensive abroad, y’know? But to be honest, I’m so fucking obtuse when it comes to maps. The thing is pointing one way and the next I know, I walked miles in the opposite direction. It’s much easier to have an actual person telling me where to go.”

“Yeah,” he agrees, licking his lips after finishing his drink. He sees her eyes flicker down to his mouth for a second, just like his did a few minutes ago. “You have a point.”

“I do?”

“Not really. I just didn’t want you to feel bad about being a confused old lady.”

That makes her laugh, and Harry feels his heart skip a beat. It’s nice to know she thinks he’s funny.

“But you can’t really be a confused old lady, right? Being a teacher and all.”

Like she said, not subtle at all. But he wants to know more about her.

“Bold of you to assume that most teachers are not confused old ladies, but,” she too finishes her second cocktail, pushing her empty glass away from her and closer to the one Harry just left on the counter. “I’m just a confused masters-student trying to look less confused so my students won’t give me shit about it.”

“Do you like it? The whole academic thing and teaching.”

Her smile is soft around the edges, and he can see the drinks catching up to her. “They have their moments, both working hard to understand the things I’m interested in and helping people learn another language. It’s all hard but worth it,” she’s quiet for a second. “Like most things in life, I guess. What about you?”

“Do I like being an academic?”

She rolls her eyes. “Your job, silly. Is it hard but worth it?”

“I guess it’s like yours in the sense that it helps me understand the thing I’m interested in, too.”

“Music?”

“Me,” he answers, and there is that laugh again.

“God,” she says, voice dripping with good-humored sarcasm. “I hate rockstars so much.”

“Don’t we all?” he sees her staring at their empty glasses, so he offers to buy her another drink even though she looks sleepy. Harry figures he’ll drop her off wherever she’s staying so she doesn't have to walk around alone and drunk.

“I don’t think I can do another one,” she says. “But maybe we could share it? I can definitely deal with half a drink. And I’ll pay for it.”

Before he can say anything, she calls the bartender over and orders another Cosmo on her tab.

“You didn’t have to,” he says, referring both to paying and asking for a cocktail she knows he likes.

“Don’t worry about it,” he thinks it’s probably the fifth time she’s said that in not even an hour. Huh. “God, isn’t it stuffy in here?”

He doesn't think so, so it’s probably the alcohol, but he agrees while she shakes off her coat. When the girl turns so she can hang the fabric over her bar stool, Harry can see, among other quotes and drawings on her arm, the words sweet creature above her right elbow.

“Nice tattoo,” he comments, feeling weirdly proud. It’s not like he doesn’t know hundreds of people get the words he sings on their bodies, but this is different. It’s like trying to know more about someone and realizing, somehow, you already do.

“Which one?” she asks. He reaches out and brushes his fingers over it. It gives her goosebumps. “Oh. It’s a nice song.”

“Why did you get it?”

It makes him feel like an annoying interviewer, trying to get a meaningful answer that isn’t necessarily there. But he’d still like to hear what she has to say.

“I’ve heard I’m not one of those,” is her answer. His hand drops from her elbow.

He frowns. “What do you mean?”

“I’ve been told I’m not the sweetest creature,” the smile is gone. She shifts in her seat as if just realizing an old bruise is still tender to the touch.

Before he can decide between asking more about it and risk her thinking he’s a nosy asshole or just give his uninformed opinion and claim that’s bullshit, a Cosmopolitan is put on the bar between them.

“Thank you,” she says to the bartender. He’d thank them too, but he’s staring at that suddenly serious face, wondering what else is there to know about that tattoo. About her.

“Doesn’t it become a reminder, though?” Harry asks, and she looks back at him, not understanding the question. “The tattoo. Doesn’t it remind you that someone feels that way about you?”

“Yeah, I guess” she takes a sip of the drink and slides it over to him, their fingers touching in the process; it’s only for a second, and her hand is gone before Harry can understand why he wishes it wasn’t. “But I got it so, when I think of how he saw me, I would know I’m the one who gets to say what I am or am not.”

Harry is curious but doesn’t really know what to say to that, and it shows. She cringes.

“I always do this, you know? I drink and start getting all sad and telling people about all sorts of stuff no one wants to know. I’m sorry, Harry.”

It’s the first time he’s heard say his name. It sounds good on her accent.

“Don’t worry about it,” he says, and it makes her smile because she realizes he’s been paying attention.

They share one more drink, and Harry pays for the third Cosmo of the night. By the time they’re finished with it, both of them are giggling and he has one of his hands on her bare knee. After the slightly-awkward oversharing, she proceeded to point out how a couple on the dark corner of the bar seemed, judging by their uncomfortable silence and resentful faces, to be on the brink of divorce. Harry asked her, mostly joking, if she had been around a lot of divorcing couples; she chuckled and then commented on how a dude sitting by the restrooms was probably fingering his girlfriend under the table. She never said no or proved to know about his family by asking him the same thing back.

But now the whole divorce thing was long forgotten. She and Harry had spent the last hour making up the most obnoxious stories about other customers and whispering them to each other, bodies getting closer and closer every minute.

“You know what I want?” she mutters. Between being shorter than Harry and slouching on her seat, her lips don’t reach his ear, so he can feel her breath on the side of his neck. He shivers.

“What?” he asks in the same low tone, eyes glittering with mischief and tipsiness.

Her left hand grips his bicep while she practically purrs: “I really want a milkshake.”

From the way his drunken-self gasps and moans God, yes, she might as well have said that she really wanted to suck his dick.

They pay for their drinks, shared or otherwise, and leave the bar. There aren’t many people out on the street at 1 a.m, but Harry still pulls his hat down a little.

“So,” she says. “Should I get us an uber? Where do British people get milkshakes? Is it far?”

“I’ll just call a driver.”

She looks taken aback. “Like a private one?”

Harry nods. “He’ll be here in a minute.”

And he is. She stumbles into the car along with Harry, sluggishly laying her head on his shoulder after closing the door.

“You didn’t tell me your name,” he murmurs against her hair.

So she does.

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

Between dinner, a few drinks and all the talking, they had already broken the not-staying-out-too-late rule. Turns out that rehashing a few days’ worth of parenting, teaching and music producing is time consuming even when you’re not having this much fun.

“One more?” Harry asks, pointing to her empty gin and tonic glass, the shadow of laughter still on his lips after a solid fifteen minutes of her getting progressively more aggravated about a student that “couldn’t, to save his own life, make anyone believe he read The Color Purple”.

“Yeah,” she says. “Share it with me?”

“Sure, love.”

He orders another cocktail, and She smiles at him even while thanking the waitress.

“What’s that look for?”

“Nothing,” She replies, still staring shamelessly. It’s easy after all these years. “You just look really good.”

“So do you.”

She shrugs, and before he can say that she really does look beautiful and that he wishes he could prove to her just how much he thinks so (which is a cheap but sure way of making her blush), the waitress places the new cocktail between them.

“God, that was fast,” She mumbles, impressed.

After She takes the first sip, they both start at the same time. “So—”

They giggle, but since She begins sipping again, Harry speaks.

“We’ll both have a couple of months off during the summer, so I was thinking… You could go home.”

“Yeah, I should start planning once the semester ends, I’m just so—” She sighs, and Harry understands.

“I figured you could go and spend the first few weeks, or even the first month, back home while Jamie and I do our thing.” She looks like she’s about to interrupt him, so he holds up a hand as if asking her to wait. “Hear me out. You go home, spend time with your family or your old friends or, y’know, yourself, because — and don’t even fight me on this — I know you need your alone time. And after you’ve had your break, we’ll meet you there and hang out until you need to get back to prepare for next semester and I need to sort things out for the tour. You can even go somewhere else by yourself before going home or we could do a family thing before coming back to the UK if you and Jamie want to. How does that sound?”

She doesn’t say a thing, doesn’t even smile. She just keeps looking at him while sliding the gin and tonic glass across the table so he can have his share. Harry takes two big gulps and waits for her to speak.

“I don’t—” She stops herself. “You thought of it all, didn’t you?”

“I tried,” he laces his fingers through hers. “So you wouldn’t have to. But, y’know, it’s just an idea. And I thought it’d be better if I brought it up early so we could plan everything properly and, in case you didn’t want help paying for them, the plane tickets wouldn’t cost you an arm and a leg.”

Still silent, She looks down at their joint hands.

“Thank you, H.”

“I didn’t do anything, love.”

He touches her chin so that She’ll look him in the eyes.

“I love you,” Harry whispers.

She doesn’t have to say it too. He knows.

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

6 years earlier…

“Hey, love,” Harry whispers from the other side of the phone call. “How are things?”

She smiles a tired smile up at her dark ceiling at the sound of his voice. “Things are…” The smile fades, replaced by a shaky sigh. “Things are fine, H.”

She means things are like they have been for as long as she can remember. Difficult. A shit-paying job where she feels like a failure most of the time, too much school work, family drama and all sorts of friendship insecurities. There are good days of course, but today just isn’t one of them. She didn’t want to ruin his call, the only silver lining of the night, by complaining. So things are fine.

“What about you? Is everything good over there?”

“Everything’s great. Had some really good wine earlier today, reminded me of you. You would’ve loved it.”

“Bet you were in a villa, feeling the breeze on your hair, staring at a gorgeous canal or some fancy shit like that,” she jokes.

Harry laughs. “Yeah,” is his answer.

Oh.

“I kinda wanted to talk to you about that, actually.”

“About what?”

She sits up on the bed, her room quiet except for the shifting of her body over the clothes she took off but didn’t bother to fold before laying down after work.

“You should come,” he answers on the phone.

“What?”

“To Italy.”

“Baby—”

“Come on, love. You always wanted to travel here. Come meet me.”

“Harry,” she sighs. “You’re insane.”

She can picture his face falling just by the sound of his voice. “Why?”

“It’s the middle of September; I’m working, I’m studying. I can’t even afford it. Do you need any more reasons?”

Harry sounds frustrated when he answers, and it brings tears to her eyes. So much for a silver lining. “You can take a day or two off, right? Or just stay the weekend. You know I’ll pay for your flight.”

“Baby,” she takes a deep breath, trying to not let her annoyance show. “I’m almost finished with my master’s; I won’t get it done by missing classes. And yes, you’ll pay for my flight, but that’s not the only expense that goes into traveling and I won’t depend on your money. You know this. We can go when there’s a holiday here. Or mid-December, when the semester is over. I’ll have saved some money by then. I love you for thinking of me but… I can’t, H. Not now.”

He mumbles something under his breath.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“I didn’t hear you,” but she knows he did it on purpose. “Can you say that again, please?”

“I said you’re making up excuses.”

‘You can’t be serious.”

“Of course I’m serious! You won’t even try.”

“How am I supposed to try? Either I can or can’t go. And I can’t.”

“You won’t even consider it,” his voice is filled with disappointment. It makes her blood boil.

“Harry, you sound like a child. Listen to me. Even if I went only for the weekend, I’d waste almost an entire day flying back and forth. We wouldn’t even have twenty-four hours together.”

“Don’t you think that sounds better than not being together at all?”

“I bet it does sound better for you, sitting your ass in a gondola, eating your rich-people cheese with your snobby friends, thinking of lyrics about fucking a girl that second-guesses putting you before herself while said girl is out there, flying to you so she can have a hug and a kiss and pretend that everything is fine.”

She’s crying by the time she stops talking, and she knows he can hear it. While she sobs, mostly angry but also starting to regret saying anything at all, he doesn’t say a thing. He could have stopped breathing altogether, considering how quiet the other end of the line is.

“Harry?” she half-pleads, half-scolds. “Talk to me!”

“I’m sorry,” his voice is uncertain, like he can’t quite figure out what to say and how to say it. “I guess I— I miss you. I’m being a prick.”

The weigh on her chest doesn’t go away with the apology, because she doesn’t know if he understands. And she just called his friends snobby and said she pretends to be happy. God. But she can’t say she’s sorry too because she won’t stop crying. She’s just so tired.

“Love,” Harry says, firmly this time. “Don’t cry, it’s okay. Have some sleep. Drink some water. We’ll talk properly tomorrow.”

“No,” she hiccups into the phone. “Wait. I’m—”

“We’ll talk, I promise,” she thinks he’ll hang up then when he hesitates, but he speaks again. “I’m sorry. I love you.”

The line goes dead. She cries herself to sleep.

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

"God," he pants against her bruised neck.

“What?” She teases. “Are you getting too old for this?”

“Shut up,” Harry laughs, still breathless. “I’m barely in my mid-thirties.” He pushes the sheets away and gets up, looking down at her naked body sprawled across the bed; if he wasn’t so tired, he’d be horny again. “Want some water?”

“Yeah. Thanks, baby.”

He walks out of the bedroom wearing absolutely nothing, which is one of the perks of a child-free house. By the time he’s back with their water, She’s wearing his teal button-up and brushing her teeth, messy natural hair framing her face.

“H,” she calls from the suite’s bathroom, speech slurred because of the toothbrush. She spits before continuing, “Can you sing me a song?”

Harry chugs his water and lays back on the bed, waiting for her without saying a word.

“Can you?” She asks again, climbing on the bed in all fours, hovering over him. “Can you?” A whisper against his mouth. But when he leans over for a kiss, she falls to the bed, suddenly grinning, and hugs his side. “Come on.”

“Such a tease,” he mumbles, already hugging her back and tangling his legs with hers.

Harry starts singing quietly, voice still a little rough even after the water, and he can feel her smiling lips against his chest.

Wise men say only fools rush in

But I can't help falling in love with you…

“How romantic,” she says quietly once he’s done.

“That’s me, only doing the best for my girl” he says smugly, which makes her laugh, but then he turns serious. “I love you, you know?”

“Love you too, H.”

Harry takes a deep breath. “Can I ask you a question?”

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

5 years earlier…

The paparazzi call her name on screen. There are not many of them, but it disturbs Harry nonetheless; three or four photographers outside a restaurant, just waiting for her and yelling at her once she walks out the door. She looks nervous in a way Harry can imagine other people not noticing, fidgeting hands and a fast walk. But her face is serious and dismissive while she walks straight ahead.

“Are you Harry Styles’ new girlfriend?” one of them asks from behind the camera.

Harry pauses the video, telling himself he needs to ask someone on his team how the hell they found out who she is just by a blurry picture taken through his car window a few days ago when she’s not even on social media, which is true. But he’s also not sure he wants to hear her answer. He checks the time under the video; it was posted less than an hour ago. He should call her and ask if everything’s okay, but he just presses play again.

“No,” she answers right away. Harry feels like he’s sinking.

Why the fuck did they not discuss this before she moved to England? What was he thinking when he resisted PR’s involvement? They should’ve planned for this, coordinated answers, made up their minds so he wouldn’t feel sucker-punched and she wouldn’t be thrusted into the spotlight with no warning.

“You were in his car last Monday!” someone says, as if telling her she’s a liar.

She doesn’t bother responding to that. They keep calling her name.

“What are you and Harry, then?”

She’s almost down the subway’s stairs and there’s not many seconds left in the video, so he’s not too worried about what happens next. Harry looks at his phone, expecting her to disappear from the frame so he can text her and ask her to come over so they can talk, so he can hold her and make sure she’s not freaking out. But she slows down, considering the person’s question. She turns her head to a camera somewhere to the right of the video he’s watching, curls falling down the side of her face.

Matter-of-factly, with amused eyes but no smile, she says: “Soulmates.” And then she’s down the stairs and the video ends.

Harry stays very still. Text notifications appear over and over, more than one person saying the same thing: apparently they found her on her university’s website, where she’s listed as a doctoral student. He doesn’t open the messages, though; doesn’t even breathe until there’s a knock at the door.

Everyone else just rings the bell or asks to be buzzed in. It’s her.

Harry walks to the door, bare feet sliding on the wooden floors, and opens it. She’s standing in front of him dressed in the same black skirt and pink sweater from the video, hair messy around her serious face.

“H,” she starts. The sound of her voice relieves most of the pressure in his chest. “I—”

He doesn’t let her finish; just kisses her like he would kiss a soulmate. She steps forward, dropping her bag and closing the door with one hand while the other busies itself holding onto the soft cotton of Harry’s worn T-shirt, the feeling of his tongue against hers making her dizzy.

They stumble into the couch, her hips sitting on top of his, breathing heavily against each other’s lips. Harry takes longer than necessary stripping her of her sweater, gripping every inch of exposed skin as if he could keep it to himself. “Harry,” She whispers, asking him to hurry. The pink fabric falls to the floor and his right hand instantly pulls at her hair, her back arching so he can get one of her nipples on his mouth. “Harry,” She breathes out again, tortured, and a careless move of her hips makes them both gasp. The hand that’s not tangled in her hair squeezes her tight so hard they’re both sure it’ll bruise.

“Lay back,” he says before sucking on her other nipple, teeth grazing her skin and making her grind into him with more purpose. Despite his words, Harry doesn’t move so she can do what he’s telling her to. “I want to—” he bites her shoulder, hard, “see if—” sucks a mark into the side of her breast, “you can move like that on my face.”

She moans at his words, his mouth, his hand on her hair, tightening by the second.

“No,” she licks her lips, but never finishes the thought. Her hand drops to the one he has on her tight and squeezes it. “Can you—”

“Yeah,” he mumbles, letting go of her thigh. His hand disappears beneath her skirt, and she can feel him pushing her panties out of the way. He swipes a finger against her so lightly she can barely feel it. “Is that what you want?”

“More.”

She lifts her hips, trying to get more friction on his hand. “Come on.”

Harry slides one finger into her, then another. Her mouth falls open in a silent gasp, and she feels like she’s stopped breathing altogether once he fucks into her fast and hard, thumb brushing against her clit.

“Kiss me,” she whimpers, riding his fingers frantically, the sweat dripping down her torso sticking to Harry’s T-shirt.

Their mouths meet at the same time he squeezes a third finger into her. She moans against his lips and holds his waist under his clothes, seemingly undecided between tugging at his shirt or his belt.

“H, let me,” she murmurs the words into his lips, still pulling at his clothes.

“No,” he sounds as wrecked as she does, which is saying a lot. “Cum for me first.”

Harry stops moving his hand, tries to tease her, but she barely seems to notice, moving so desperately that he hits all the right places without even trying. With a sob, she squeezes tight around his fingers and rides out her high while clinging to Harry for dear life.

Her head falls to his shoulder, face hiding behind her hair and in his neck.

“Good?” he asks, voice raspy, wiping his soaked fingers on the side of his pants.

She doesn’t say anything for a second, just breathing hard into his skin, then sobs again. Not with pleasure.

“Love?” Harry questions in worry. “What’s wrong?”

Her body starts to shake in his arms, tears mixing with the sweat on his T-shirt’s collar. He calls her name, scared out of his mind with what this could mean. Did she come here to say she couldn’t do this anymore? He didn’t let her say a thing before kissing her. He should’ve listened, should’ve waited, should’ve asked her what ‘soulmate’ meant when it couldn’t mean ‘girlfriend’.

“I’m sorry,” she hiccups, hugging him closer even though there’s not any space between their bodies.

“What are you sorry for?” he asks quietly.

“I know this is freaking you out. I just—” and then she’s sobbing again.

“Talk to me,” Harry begs.

“I love you so much, H,” he could feel the but at the end of the sentence.

“I love you too…” he swallows before asking, “Is this about the photographers? Are you upset they were around? ‘Cause we can fix that.”

She looks up at him, the tip of their noses touching. With furrowed brows and swollen eyes, she mumbles, “You gonna have them killed or somethin’?”

He’d laugh if he could. “Not really. I’ll do something, though. Whatever it is you need me to do.”

She rests her chin on his shoulder so he can’t look her in the eyes. In a whisper, she asks: “Can you freeze us in time?”

“What?”

“I’m scared we’ll lose this,” She confesses. “I’m so in love with you, Harry and I— I don’t want us to be boyfriend and girlfriend the way I’ve learned it, owing each other and the world explanations and parts of ourselves. I want us to choose to love each other every day because we can’t help but do so — a forever that looks like the way you offered me a drink, the way you flew out to meet me after our fight and promised we’d do better, the way you kissed me today; like it’s not simple but it’s easy. ”

Harry stays silent for a while.

“I’m sorry if it makes no sense,” her voice shakes. “I think I’m just desperate not to lose myself in you while getting to keep you and— I don’t know, it doesn’t sound as reasonable as I thought it would.”

He whispers her name.

“Yeah?”

“Being with you forever, one day at a time, sounds reasonable to me.”

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

“Do you want to marry me?”

“What?”

“Marry me, love,” he laughs softly. “Do you want to?”

She’s silent, tear-filled eyes staring up at him.

“You know how I knew it was time?” Harry asks, still in a low voice like they’re somewhere sacred. Home. “We built a family out of a promise we didn’t even have to make. A while ago, even before Jamie, you told me we shouldn't owe each other, and it’s true. I won’t ever ask you for anything you haven’t already given me, because that’s how you love me too. But I’ll ask for this because it’s ours and I know it’ll stay this way.”

They’re both crying, and her shaking hands try to wipe away his tears.

“I want to,” She says.

That sudden bright smile takes over her face like it did both years and minutes ago. It doesn’t take him by surprise anymore.

#FineLineFicChallenge #harry styles #fine line #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fic #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #hsogolden

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camillemontespan · 4 years

Text

first man [drake walker] [one shot]

@moonlightgem7 @emichelle @ibldw-main @jovialyouthmusic @sirbeepsalot @katedrakeohd @saivilo @burnsoslow @dcbbw @fromthedeskofpaisleybleakmore @pug-bitch @marshmallowsaremyfavorite @mskaneko @rainbowsinthestorm @gardeningourmet

This is pure fluff.

I was kinda missing my dad so thought of writing this - the McDonalds scene, btw, is a real life thing my dad did for me and remains a really nice memory for me.

I was also inspired by the song First Man by Camila Cabello.

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

Amongst the sound of laughter and bubbling champagne being popped, the soft tinkle of a glass being tapped trilled around the room, bringing everything to a warm silence.

Drake Walker stood up and surveyed the room, giving his audience a smile. ‘Father of the bride now requesting permission to speak,’ he joked.

To his left, his wife, Camille grinned up at him and took his hand, squeezing it gently.

To his right was his daughter dressed all in white, a veil framing her delicate face as she looked up at him with wonder.

'Now I know I’m not the best at speeches,’ Drake began, eliciting giggles from the guests. 'I always have to prepare weeks in advance otherwise I’ll trip over my words, say something I shouldn’t and end up swearing.’ He shot a look down at his daughter.

'Don’t panic, Lily, I’m not gonna swear at your wedding.’

Lily giggled and kept her eyes on her father, a smile on her face as she watched him.

'But for this, I didn’t need to prepare,’ Drake continued. 'I already know what I’m going to say. Hopefully I won’t embarrass you but I can’t make any promises, I am your dad after all.. But looking at you right now, how happy you are and how beautiful.. Everything is clear.’

'Awwww!’ the guests chorused. Lily wiped her eyes which were filling with tears. Her new husband, Milo, reached out to wrap his arm around her shoulder, keeping her close.

'I’m going to use this speech to take you down memory lane,’ Drake said. 'Nothing has made me happier than being your dad, honey. You’re the light of my life - as is your sister but today’s your wedding day so right now, you’re the favourite.’

'Dad!’ Luna piped up, adopting an offended expression. Lily laughed and reached out along the table to squeeze her little sister’s hand.

'I’ve always been the protective dad,’ Drake said. 'I didn’t want you leaving home until you were fifty.. Well you’re twenty seven now so well done, you somehow managed to get away with that! But looking at you and Milo right now, I feel good. I’m happy to step back and let Milo take the reins on this. He will look after you now. I promise I’ll always be here for you, baby, but it’s not my job to make sure you’re happy. That’s your husband’s now. But I gotta say.. It’s been an honour to be the first man to ever love you.’

Lily’s eyes were watering as she clasped Milo’s hand around her shoulder. Drake gave her a wink. 'Now, my life changed forever when you were born. I was terrified, excited but mainly terrified.. Jesus, I thought I was going to break you, you were so small..’

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

Camille gave one last push, letting out a visceral cry as she felt her body give way. Drake had his hands out and caught the baby.

'She’s here, Camille!’ he told her, his eyes wide. 'She’s beautiful!’

Camille let her head fall back onto the pillow, exhausted. It had been a difficult labour, long and excruciating. It turned out Camille used very colourful language when giving birth. But as she watched her husband with their baby girl in his hands, she knew it had been worth it.

The nurse smiled. 'Do you want to cut the cord?’ she asked. Drake blinked, a look of sheer terror on his face.

'How do I do that?’ he croaked.

The nurse showed him and Drake delicately cut the cord, so carefully. The nurse took the baby to clean her up before wrapping her in a blanket, passing her back to her father.

Drake looked down at his daughter. 'I can’t believe I have one of these..’ he whispered. He stared at the newborn with a dopey smile on his face, unable to tear his eyes away from her. 'Hey there little lady,’ he whispered. 'I’m your daddy.’

He suddenly wrenched his eyes away from her to stare at Camille.

'Baby, she’s got your eyes! She’s opened them! Jesus, they’re brown with gold flecks, just like you. My little owl.’

Camille’s eyes filled with happy tears. Drake moved towards her with the baby in his arms and settled down on the bed beside his wife. Camille let out a breath as she looked for the first time down at her daughter.

'She’s beautiful,’ she whispered. Drake smiled and passed her to Camille.

'I’m worried I’m going to break her,’ he told her, stroking a lock of Camille’s hair that was slicked with sweat. ‘She’s so tiny.’

Camille took the baby’s hand and pressed a gentle kiss on her bunched fist. 'You won’t,’ she replied softly.

'Do we still want to call her Lily?’ Drake asked.

Camille smiled. 'Do you think she’s a Lily?’

'100%.’

Camille grinned. 'Lily. Hi Lily.’

The baby gurgled and Camille let out her throaty laugh that Drake adored. 'Yeah, that’s your name, baby girl. Lily,’ Camille cooed. 'Lily Olivia Walker.’

Drake pretended to wince. 'Olivia? Really?’

Camille giggled and swatted his hand gently. Lily yawned and settled in Camille’s arms, closing her owl eyes.

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

'Liv, stop shooting daggers with your eyes at me, we gave her your name,’ Drake said, rolling his eyes good naturedly. Olivia, who was sat at the table nearest the Walker’s, gave him the middle finger before laughing.

'Jokes on you, Walker, your daughter loves me.’

Lily grinned. 'I really do, Aunt Olivia!’

Olivia raised her champagne glass towards her goddaughter and tossed it back. Drake turned back to address his daughter.

‘So, I think everyone who knows Lily knows how girly she is,’ he said.

‘Yessss!’ everyone cheered. Lily turned red and hid her face with her veil as Milo elbowed her gently, laughing.

‘Therefore, I know that picking her wedding dress would definitely have been the highlight of this whole day,’ Drake continued. He smirked at Milo. ‘Sorry, Milo.’

Milo shrugged happily and like he didn’t mind at all; he had the girl of his dreams. Drake sipped his whiskey and began to speak again.

‘Lily has always been girly,’ he told the room. ‘She loved playing dress up when she was growing up. And often, she would drag me into her dressing up games..’

‘Good on ya, Drake!’ Leo crowed from his seat beside Olivia. ‘Betcha looked beautiful!’

‘Ladies and gentleman, I believe Leo is drunk,’ Drake said, raising an eyebrow. The guests giggled and began to clap their hands as Leo stood up to bow.

‘Thank you, thank you, I’m here all night,’ he joked, raising his glass before sitting back down to listen to another story.

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

‘Daddy, you have to wear the pink tiara!’ Lily cried, holding out a plastic pink tiara to her father. ‘I’ll wear the silver one and then we can play Princesses!’

Drake took the pink tiara and placed it on his head. ‘How do I look?’ he asked. ‘Pretty?’

Lily giggled. ‘So pretty!’

She was wearing a purple velvet princess dress and Camille’s high heels. Drake watched as she tottered around her bedroom, singing to herself as she played. He was sat on the floor with her teddy bear on his lap, absentmindedly stroking the bear’s fur.

‘So what do princesses do?’ he asked.

Lily grinned. ‘We rule the kingdom!’ she said. ‘Just like Uncle Liam!’

‘Of course, just like Uncle Liam,’ Drake agreed. ‘What’s your kingdom like, Princess Lily?’

Lily chewed on her lip thoughtfully. ‘It’s.. happy,’ she decided. ‘It’s always happy and you get to play everyday. We can read lots of books and drink tea.’

‘Sounds lovely,’ Drake told her. ‘What kind of tea? Earl grey?’

‘Noooo daddy!’ she giggled. ‘Chocolate tea!’

‘You mean hot chocolate?’

Lily blinked slowly, as if Drake had just asked her a stupid question. ‘No, chocolate tea.’

‘Ah okay,’ Drake said, bowing his head. ‘Apologies. Where do we get chocolate tea from?’

Lily played with her long dark hair, pulling it through her fingers. Whenever she thought about something hard, her pixie nose crinkled in concentration and her fingers always moved as she thought to herself.

‘My kingdom has a lake filled with chocolate,’ she finally said. ‘You can swim in it! And get tea.’

‘Where is this lake, huh? Why don’t we have one in Cordonia?’

‘I know right?!’ Lily shrieked, bouncing over to Drake to throw her arms around his neck. ‘We need a chocolate lake!’

Drake chuckled and held her close, inhaling the lavender scent of her hair. ‘I’ll get you a chocolate lake, baby girl,’ he whispered. ‘You can drink all the chocolate tea you want.’

She drew back with a happy grin on her face. ‘I need to wear my feather boa!’ she decided, suddenly changing subject as she often did without warning.

‘Do princesses wear boas?’

‘Always,’ Lily said, opening her little closet and rifling through her clothes. ‘They’re fluffy and pretty.’

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

‘Now, she may be really girly but she’s also a Walker,’ Drake warned. ‘Milo, you gotta know that my baby girl can make campfires and toast smores like a badass.’

Milo chuckled and rolled his eyes at Lily who was looking very pleased with herself.

‘Be prepared for a lifetime of energy, emotions and joy,’ Drake told him. ‘Because that’s what Lily is. She’s my little pocket rocket.’

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

‘Smores are delicious!’ Lily squealed. Drake was teaching her how to toast smores over a campfire. She was six years old and in thrall of her father who was making it his mission to make this Walker Family Weekend the best weekend ever.

Her baby sister, Luna, was in Camille’s lap. They were sat around the fire and Luna’s eyes were lit up from the flames; she was hypnotised.

‘I want to eat these all the time,’ Lily said seriously. ‘They’re the best food ever!’

Drake held her tightly and pressed a kiss on top of her head. ‘You’re my little girl, you know that right?’

His eyes met Camille’s. His wife gave him a warm smile and she looked like she could burst from happiness. Drake could feel it too. This was the life he had always dreamed of. Just peace. The simple things. Smores.

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

‘So Lily is marrying the love of her life,’ Drake said. ‘Lily and Milo have known each other since they were four years old but their long relationship hasn’t been without its ups and downs. For example, they were best friends for the most part while Lily brought home many, many, many, many unsuitable boyfriends..’

Luna let out a laugh. ‘So true!’

‘Shut up!’ Lily protested, glaring at her sister. Luna stuck her tongue out, making Lily smile. She could never stay angry at Luna for long.

‘We all had bets on when Lily would get together with Milo,’ Drake said.

‘What?!’ Milo cried. ‘No way!’

‘I bet he would ask her out after the hockey player!’ Maxwell shouted out loud, raising his hand. ‘I got 50 euro!’

‘Damn you, Beaumont!’ Leo growled. ‘That was my hard earned money!’

‘Money doing what exactly?’ Olivia asked, nudging Leo’s knee with her foot. Leo turned red and downed another glass of champagne.

‘There was Matthew, Ethan, Eli, Patrick, James..’ Drake droaned. ‘Hockey guy.. Swimmer… guitar player..’

‘I’m surprised you let Lily out to be honest,’ Bertrand quipped, making everyone laugh. ‘I wouldn’t have.’

‘I was very tempted to keep her under lock and key,’ Drake admitted. ‘But no, instead I just got my rifle ready and gave those guys plenty of warning.’

Lily held her head in her hands. ‘Dad…’

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

‘So what are you doing after graduating?’ Camille asked the boy in front of her as she poured him a glass of juice.

‘Uh, I’m not graduating this year, Mrs Walker,’ Ethan drawled. ‘At all. I’ve dropped out.’

Camille kept her smile on her face as she sat down. Don’t judge. Be kind. Maybe he had a hard year. She could feel Drake tense beside her and willed him to keep quiet. She held out the bowl of salad, offering Ethan some greens.

‘Yeah, I failed like.. all my classes,’ Ethan explained, clearly not fussed that he was setting off alarm bells in Lily’s parents heads.

‘Oh,’ Camille said. ‘Tough year? I know Lily was struggling with maths-’

‘Nah, I just didn’t go,’ Ethan interrupted. ‘School is a prison, you know? You learn better outside the constricts of education! We gotta get outside, see the world, forge our own path.’

‘That sounds very freeing,’ Camille told him, trying to be polite. ‘Very forward thinking.’

‘So while my daughter is studying at university, what will you be doing?’ Drake asked, his tone thin. Lily was turning bright red, looking like she wanted to be anywhere but at the dinner table.

‘I’m just gonna see what life is, you know?’ Ethan drawled, leaning back to rest his arm around Lily’s shoulders. Drake’s eyes flicked to his arm while his hand gripped his knife.

‘Will you be working then?’ Camille asked. ‘I used to work as a waitress while at school. I used my cash to help my grandmother.’

‘My parents put a lot of importance on work..’ Lily whispered to Ethan, wanting to help him out a little.

‘I work on the side,’ Ethan said.

‘Doing what?’

‘I work with my buddy at the weekend,’ he said. ‘He’s got clients.’

‘Clients for what?’ Camille asked, taking a long, long sip of wine.

Lily quickly reached out to take the bowl of spaghetti. ‘Great pasta, mom!’ she cried, her voice high. ‘Delicious!’

Ethan grinned wolfishly. ‘You won’t be interested, Mrs Walker.’

Drake stood up abruptly, making Lily jump. She was on the edge of her seat, clearly waiting for Ethan to say one thing that would lead to disaster. She had been dating him for two months and she had been oddly quiet about him to her parents. She watched as Drake stalked out of the dining room.

‘Thanks for cooking, mom,’ Lily said quietly. Camille gave her a wink and twirled spaghetti around her fork.

‘So, Ethan, what would you like to be when you’re older?’

‘Jeez, that’s a loaded question..’ Ethan mused. ‘Again, I’d be in a box, working for the man..’

‘DAD!’ Lily shrieked, knocking over her glass of juice. Drake had returned with his rifle in his hand.

‘Don’t mind me,’ he called out. ‘I just remembered I need to clean my rifle!’

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

‘Ugh, I hated that guy..’ Milo groaned. ‘Such a dick.’

Lily was tomato red now. She could only listen as her family commented on all of her previous boyfriends, not kindly.

‘Patrick was a babe,’ Luna said. ‘But so, so vain..’

‘Hayden was very handsome,’ Camille joined in. Olivia let out a gasp. ‘Oooh Hot Hayden!’

‘What?!’ Lily screamed. ‘He was eighteen!’

‘He was legal,’’ Oliva said dryly.

Drake cleared his throat. ‘Okay, my speech is being ransacked. Back on track now, people, please. So, yeah, we watched a lot of boyfriends walk through our front door and leave just as quickly. It was like a conveyor belt of acne and hormones.’

‘Dad, you’re embarrassing me,’ Lily warned him.

Drake grinned. ‘Then be prepared for my next story!’

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

The front door slammed, making Drake and Camille pull away from each other and jump to opposite sides of the couch. ‘Fuck, that was close,’ Camille whispered, re-arranging her hair. Drake smirked and opened the living room door.

‘Lily, that you?’ he called out.

He could hear crying. Hysterical crying.

‘I’ll go,’ Camille volunteered.

‘Nah, I will,’ Drake said. ‘She’s home early though. Didn’t she have dance practice tonight?’

‘Maybe Harper’s mom dropped her off.’

Drake shrugged and wandered upstairs to Lily’s bedroom where he could hear crying and wailing coming from the other side of the door. He knocked and waited patiently for permission to enter.

‘Come in..’

Drake opened the door and found his fifteen year old daughter lying in a heap on her bed, crying. He rushed over to her. ‘Baby, what’s wrong?’

She burrowed her face in the pillow, her sobs muffled but still so very loud.

‘Lil?’ Drake murmured. ‘Baby, what’s wrong?’

She sniffled and raised her head up to look at him. Her eyeliner and mascara was streaked over her face; Drake winced. His daughter did not need makeup but because of her social circle, Lily felt pressure to always try and look perfect. She had to have the right hairstyle, the right perfume, the right clothing.. When really, she was perfect just the way she was.

‘He.. he.. He dumped me!’

Drake blinked. ‘Who?’

‘K..K..KYLE!’

Drake blinked again. Okay, who was Kyle again? Was he the footballer? No, that was Logan. The hockey player? No, that was Will. Who the fuck was Kyle?

‘Lily..’ he said, keeping his voice steady. ‘Who was Kyle?’

‘MY BOYFRIEND!’ she screamed, throwing a pillow to the other side of the room. ‘He dumped me! I thought we were so good! He called me.. He called me beautiful!’

Her voice cracked and she broke down again. Drake pulled her into him, wrapping his arms around her tightly.

‘Shhh, it’s alright..’ he whispered. ‘It’s okay, baby. Shhh..’

‘He made me laugh..’ she whispered. ‘And we had all these inside jokes..’

Drake sighed. The inside jokes were what got you.

‘I’m gonna be alone FOREVER!’ she wailed.

Drake closed his eyes. He was so used to hysterical female teenagers now, thanks to Lily. He could write a book on how to manage a hormonal daughter.

Lily was like Camille in that she wore her heart on her sleeve. She felt everything deeply and she loved very hard. But, she also had that Walker steel inside her heart that meant she wasn’t a pushover. So it was very odd that she was getting so worked up over a boy.

Until it occurred to Drake that Lily had never been dumped before. She always dumped them.

‘Okay baby, you know what we’re going to do?’ he said, his voice soothing as he rocked her.

‘What?’ she asked.

‘We’re gonna get you McDonalds and we’re going to make you smile again, okay?’

Her eyes lit up. ‘Really? What if mom doesn’t let us?’

Drake gave her a wink. ‘Mom doesn’t have to know, does she?’

Thirty minutes later, they were in McDonalds, chowing down on chicken burgers and inhaling fries.

‘Oh my god, I wish mom let me eat this stuff all the time!’ Lily said with her mouth full. ‘It tastes so good!’

Drake laughed and watched as his daughter became more animated and happy, like the Lily he was used to. They talked about school, Lily’s friends and new films they had to watch on a dad and daughter date. Eventually, talk turned to Kyle.

‘So, can I ask how you met this guy?’

‘He’s in my English class,’ Lily said, sipping her coke.

‘How long were you dating?’ Drake asked. ‘Sorry, my memory is a little hazy. You date a lot of boys, honey.’

Lily giggled. ‘A week.’

Drake paused, his burger held in his hands. ‘A week?’

‘Yeah.’

Drake stared at Lily. ‘You were in pieces over a guy you had been dating.. For a WEEK?’

Lily nodded. ‘Yeah. What’s the problem?’

Drake scoffed and picked up her burger, shoving it in the paper bag. ‘Hey!’ she protested. ‘I was eating that!’

‘No,’ Drake said, tossing the burger in the trash. ‘McDonalds is pity food for when a guy breaks your heart after months of dating. McDonalds is pity food when you fail an exam. McDonalds is NOT pity food for a guy you have only dated for a week!’

Lily’s lip trembled. ‘But I really liked him..’

‘What would Aunt Olivia do?’ Drake asked bluntly. ‘If Leo dated her for a week and dumped her, what would Olivia do?’

Lily frowned. ‘Uhh.. stab him?’

Drake was beginning to agree when he realised he shouldn’t. ‘No!’ he said. ‘She would pick herself up, put on her highest heels and she would forget him! What would your mom do?’

‘She would drown her sorrows in a bottle of wine.’

Drake sighed. ‘After that.’

‘Um.. She would see her friends?’

‘Damn right she would,’ Drake said fiercely. ‘So why are you hangin’ out with me? Go see Violet or Harper. See someone who isn’t that asshole and just have a good time. It was only a week. Forget the douchebag, he ain’t worth it. Hell, go see Milo! I like that kid!’

Lily was staring at him as if he had grown two heads. ‘Dad.. why do you go all Texan when you’re emotional?’

‘I don’t know, I just do!’

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

Milo was laughing as Drake regaled the room of Lily’s dating escapades. He could see Lily smiling so he knew it was alright; Drake hadn’t overstepped. He was really looking forward to being part of the Walker family. He practically was family anyway, from years of knowing Lily, but now it was official.

Drake’s laughing eyes met Milo’s. ‘So,’ he said. ‘I remember when Milo asked me if he could ask for daughter’s hand in marriage. He was so nervous and had clearly prepared his speech, not that he needed it. I was gonna say yes. Hell, you could have just asked her and I wouldn’t have minded!’

Milo blushed and felt Lily squeeze his hand. She was always a comforting presence for him. Ever since playgroup when Milo was too shy to join in with their classmates, Lily would take his hand and make him feel safe.

‘I was always gonna agree to you marrying my daughter, kiddo,’ Drake told him honestly. ‘Doubt never crossed my mind.’

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

Milo was sat out on the front steps of the manor with Drake, their usual spot for talking. Drake had brought out a bottle of whiskey and poured him a glass before toasting to their health.

‘Remember at your prom and you were waiting for Lily to find you a leaf?’ Drake asked. ‘So I offered you whiskey but you couldn’t drink it because you were seventeen?’

‘Heh, yeah,’ Milo said. ‘Now I can. Because I’m an adult.’

Drake nodded. ‘Indeed.’

They sipped their drinks until Milo broke the silence. ‘Mr Walker, I need to talk to you about something,’ Milo said, speaking quickly, keen to get the words out. Drake turned to him and regarded him seriously.

‘Sounds ominous..’

‘It’s not,’ Milo said. ‘It’s important though. I.. I guess I just wanted to ask.. I wanted to ask if I could please marry your daughter.’

He thought Drake was going to punch him. This was Drake Walker. He was known for being protective of his daughters. He was known for bringing out his rifle and ‘cleaning’ it in front of her boyfriends. Why did he ask? What made him think Drake would say yes? He would say no and make sure Lily was sent off to a convent or wherever adult women were sent to avoid marriage and men and dicks.

‘I just think she’s incredible,’ Milo continued, his breathing turning rapid. ‘She makes me happy and I’ve known her for so long. She’s like my other part of my soul, you know? No, she is my soul. She’s everything to me. I love her. I want to marry her but I wanted to ask for permission first. You can totally say no, I get it-’

‘Milo.’

‘I’ll step back and won’t ask her-’

‘Milo, of course you can.’

‘Then she can just marry someone else - wait, what?’

Drake was trying not to laugh. Milo looked like he was going to faint. ‘Mr Walker..’

‘Yes, you can marry Lily,’ Drake said. ‘Jesus, dude. Calm down!’

‘But..’

‘What? You trying to convince me otherwise?’

‘NO!’

Drake smirked. ‘Then shut up and drink your whiskey like an adult.’

Milo tossed back his whiskey, letting it burn his throat. Drake clapped him on the back.

‘Welcome to the family.’

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

Later that evening, Drake and Lily joined on the dancefloor to dance together. Drake marvelled at how stunning she looked in her wedding dress; she had chosen a boho gown with flowing white silk and she had taken off her veil to show off her dark hair that was decorated with silver leaves. The leaves were a nod to her and Milo’s childhood- leaves were seen as declarations of love at their playgroup and Milo had gifted Lily many leaves over the years.

As they swayed together, Lily felt tears prick up in her eyes.

‘I love you daddy,’ she whispered.

Drake blinked. She never called him daddy.

‘Honey, you okay?’

She nodded, laughing at herself. ‘Yeah. I’m just emotional. Plus your speech was amazing.’

‘Heh, I talked too much,’ Drake said, twirling her around.

‘You tell good stories.’

‘I’m a Walker,’ Drake said. ‘We love stories.’

Lily grinned. ‘I’m keeping my last name by the way.’

‘Really?’ Drake asked. ‘Milo’s not offended?’

‘Hell no!’ Lily cried. ‘I’m Lily Olivia Walker. I’m your daughter. I’m a Walker through and through.’

Drake chuckled and brought her in close to hug her.

‘You’re the first man who really loved me..’ Lily whispered in his ear. ‘I’m forever thankful for that.’

Drake held her tightly. ‘I know, baby girl,’ he whispered back. ‘And I’ll always love you.’

#drake walker #drake walker x mc #trr fanfic #play choices #the royal romance

61 notes · View notes

lady-divine-writes · 5 years

Note

Fic prompt "Open your eyes? Please? Do this for me?" for GO. Love your writing, btw

Hey, nonnie! Thank you so much :) Here goes. Hope you like it

In Trade

Crowley doesn’t enjoy working underground.

The noise-sucking quiet, the oily darkness that snuffs out even the strongest lights, the stench of earth, the dampness that seeps through his clothes and into his skin …

Some creatures find comfort in these things but Crowley never has. It’s the closest one can come to the experience of being entombed alive, which he has been once or twice.

Not for long though. And mostly just for show.

Unfortunately for Crowley, Hell happens to be the basement of the whole Goddamned planet, so there are times he can’t avoid it. But he doesn’t spend more time down there than he needs. Below ground is where the world forgets about you.

Which is why Evil tends to reside there – scheming and dealing and lying in wait.

Like this latest pet project of Hastur’s, grown from the seedier alleys of SoHo downward, churning through the underbelly of the city.

A bordello - one that appeals to a very specific clientele with detestable desires.

And Crowley doesn’t approve.

As demons, they’re supposed to influence humans to act upon their baser instincts not physically create the means for them to do so. If Hastur wants so badly to infiltrate the sex worker industry, then he should get the humans to build their own bordellos. Of course, humans have been doing that for thousands of years without demonic influence, and worse.

That’s the problem.

Like Crowley told Aziraphale ages ago, humans come up with much more diabolical ways to bring each other down than he ever could so he’d often let them have at it. Is it his fault that Hell commends him for things that were never his doing? The First Barbary War, the Second Barbary War, Fulani Jihad in Nigeria – he got the credit but he was asleep when all of that went down.

Best century of sleep he’s ever had really.

Hastur doesn’t have anything close to Crowley’s reputation (or dumb luck), but that’s because they spend a great deal of their time below. But they crave the recognition. And this haven of sin has managed to reap some pretty remarkable souls for their Master – everyone from celebrities to clergy.

Crowley can’t stomach it. He would rather be creative with regards to his tempting than to simply put a gun in someone’s hand and aim it for them. This masterpiece of Hastur’s is on a level of Evil that Crowley, even as a demon, doesn’t subscribe to. He feels that Hastur has gone a bit too far, but seeing as it has tipped the scales in Hell’s favor, Beelzebub chooses to routinely overlook some of the finer points of the demon’s plan.

But it’s a slave trade, pure and simple.

Crowley has seen slave trades - centuries of humans caging fellow humans and using them against their will as labor, guinea pigs, or for sex.

That’s what this is. A sex slave trade.

And some of the slaves that Crowley has seen being held here are children.

It turns his stomach to the point of wringing dry but he’s not in a position to say anything. Demons by the hundreds work down here, lurking in the shrouded corners, overseeing the day to day in order to raise their own numbers. Crowley can’t possibly fight all of them single-handed.

If he can sneak Aziraphale down here to bless them, maybe this can get sorted out without anyone knowing he was involved.

“So what do you think, Crowley?” Ligur asks, closing in on the end of his unsolicited tour. Hastur had summoned Crowley down there – to gloat, more than likely. But they’re nowhere to be seen, so Ligur has been playing guide. “Impressive, wouldn’t you say?”

“That’s one word for it,” Crowley grumbles, ambling along the yards of musty hallways, peeking over the frames of his glasses into room after room. They all look the same – a table, a lamp, and a single bed with some poor, hypnotized bastard chained to it. Crowley gets no joy out of this, unlike Ligur, beaming villainously, particularly when they pass a room housing a whimpering teenage boy and Crowley grinds his teeth together.

“Don’t be a sore loser just because you didn’t think of it … then again, you wouldn’t have, would you?”

“Probably not,” Crowley says, massaging his tense jaw. “The zoning laws alone must be a nightmare …”

“Always with the jokes, you.” Ligur grimaces in disgust, presuming disrespect by this clown for Hastur, an esteemed Duke of Hell. “That’s not what I mean and you know it. You have a soft spot for these mortals, don’t you?”

Crowley chuckles. It’s hollow, rather unconvincing, but he’s never actually cared what Hastur’s pet lizard ever thought of him, Duke or no. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I only care about one being on that miserable marble of a planet and that’s me. That’s all.”

Ligur snickers. “I bet. Speaking of, Hastur has arranged something special for you. Sort of a consolation prize, seeing as you won’t be the favorite around Hell anymore. Not when things here get off the ground.”

Crowley looks at the demon with his eyes popped, not a single clue what that could mean and not in the least eager to find out. “Oh, uh … I … no. That’s alright. I’ll abstain.”

“Are you sure? Because I think you’re going to want to see this.”

There’s a surreal sing-song quality to Ligur’s voice that leaves Crowley cold. Ligur is an old-school demon with no sense of humor that Crowley knows of. Even the sarcastic quips he’s come up with are uncharacteristic for him. His attitude over the past hour can best be described that way.

Uncharacteristic, but in a cocky way.

Confident.

Yes, that’s it.

He’s confident about something. Something he thinks can make Crowley change his tune.

That thought sends armies of sharpened steel nails crawling up Crowley’s spine.

“Fine,” Crowley says, grousing to cover up this new and very real concern. He suddenly feels he’s walking into a trap, and like an imbecile, he waltzed into it willingly. “I’ll take a look. Why not, right? While I’m down here. Before I go. Seeing as you lads went through the trouble ...”

Ligur leads Crowley further into the labyrinth of this bordello, hallways winding in on themselves, opening at the last, then leading to new ones. Farther and farther they walk - down, Crowley suspects when the air gets chiller and the torches around them flicker, each one after burning lower and lower, struggling to find air to breathe. With each step, the hallway gets darker, quieter, more removed from the hustle and bustle they left. Crowley stops seeing rooms before they ever reach the final hallway, no more poor souls trapped against their will. There is one room up ahead – a single doorway that this hallway was built to house.

That fact disturbs him on its own.

But it’s the light coming from the room that raises every alarm in Crowley’s body, every hair on his skin standing entirely on end.

A soft blue glow.

A familiar blue glow.

So familiar, in fact, that Crowley calls out before he’s even at the room.

“Aziraphale?”

Crowley runs for it, forgoing the cool, calm, and detached act he’d been plying until he could get himself out of here and go for help. He slides into the doorway, the slick soles of his snakeskin shoes finding no traction on the smooth stone floor. Crowley expects to see the same as the other rooms – a table, a lamp, and a bed. But there’s none of that here, and their absence makes the scene in front of him that more sinister.

In the center of the room he sees an angel on their knees, white wings extended outward in both directions, kept spread and aloft by chains dangling from the ceiling wrapped around the joints. The angel looks like Aziraphale, but in many ways not like Aziraphale. He looks ethereal but artificially so, as if his wings, hair, and skin have been miracled to appear whiter than they would normally whilst down here with Evil slowly seeping into his brain. He’s bound, arms behind his back tied from elbows to wrists in a complicated gauntlet made of steel rope, simmering with the subtle red cast of damnation so they can’t be miracled away by holy magic, the ends locked around his ankles, giving him no slack to stand. He’s been re-dressed from his usual attire into a loose-fitting drape of a garment, reminiscent of their robes from Eden, only this one has no sleeves and a neckline so baggy Crowley can see straight down to the angel’s chest and back. Aziraphale’s exposed skin seems to be marked, carved with symbols whose origins Crowley doesn’t know.

It’s not just the marks on Aziraphale’s skin that bother Crowley. There’s a hardness to his face. Instead of looking peaceful in this semi-sleep state, he looks charged, ready to fight.

Ready to kill.

Crowley glares at Ligur, his eyes behind dark lenses burning like a sulfuric flame. “What have you done to him?”

Ligur grins. Crowley doesn’t scare him. Who cares if he is one of Satan’s favorites? He’s a joke. A fool. Hastur tells them constantly. Vain and insipid Anthony J Crowley, who drives a human car, wears human clothes, drinks human alcohol, lives among them like a native.

And worst of all – who fell in love with an angel.

“Wat? We’ve done nuthin’ to him. Nuthin’ at all.”

“Then what the Hell are those marks!?”

“They’re demonic locks, meant to keep him down here. Hastur’s latest and greatest idea …”

“Hassstur …” Crowley hisses under his breath. “That ssson-of-a …”

There’s no reason for Hastur to devise such a plan against the angels. Demons don’t kidnap angels. That’s not in the nature of their battle against one another. Besides, Gabriel and Beelzebub are too egotistical to let their sides duke it out on their own and risk anyone rising victorious without the virtue of their leadership. So in their infinite wisdom, they decide when and where wars between angels and demons take place.

Another one’s due in about eleven years – an all or nothing, take no prisoners battle between good and evil – so such a weapon would be pointless.

Which means these locks were created to target Aziraphale and Aziraphale alone.

But this doesn’t end with Aziraphale. Crowley would be blind not to see it.

Capturing Aziraphale and bringing him below ground, binding him to this place and then parading him in front of Crowley …

… this was a plan by Hastur to get to Crowley as well.

Either to exact revenge or to figure out where his loyalties lie.

“Each demon put one on, that means each demon would need to unlock their own for the angel to leave, so don’t get any bright ideas. Unless …”

Crowley’s eyes don’t leave his angel’s face. Only a single raised brow signals that he’s still listening. “Unless …?”

Ligur shrugs as if the answer to Crowley’s question is ridiculously obvious. “If you corrupt him, you can save him.”

Crowley swallows hard.

Corrupt Aziraphale?

Make him fall?

Crowley can’t do that, not even to save him from this. Of course the horrific truth is he’ll have to if there is no other way. Would Aziraphale understand?

Would he forgive him?

“And how do you expect me to do that?”

“I don’t know. You’re an expert on corrupting humans. You spend all your time with them. I’m sure you can think of something.”

“Ligur!” Crowley growls at the demon’s back as they begin to saunter away.

“He’s already on his knees,” Ligur says, waving a dismissive hand. “That’s a good start from what I hear. Use your imagination.”

Ligur’s cruel, throaty laugh echoes as a door appears, just to slide closed behind them. It seals out the light, plunging Crowley and Aziraphale into total darkness. The only hint of illumination Crowley sees comes from the angel himself, but only just. Overwhelmed by the Evil around them, it’s fainter than Crowley has ever seen.

And growing even more so.

Which means he may be running out of time.

If that light goes out, Aziraphale won’t need Crowley to corrupt him.

The deed will be done.

The only difference is Aziraphale may turn on him after.

Crowley has often suspected (backed by things he’s seen and things he’s heard) that if Aziraphale were to fall, it would need to be at Crowley’s hand, or else he risks Aziraphale becoming his enemy. It’s the nature of demons to avoid one another when possible, be distrustful of each other constantly.

In his wickedest dreams, he’d hoped that if Aziraphale ever fell, it would be whilst the two of them made love, wrapped in each other’s arms.

Then they could be with each other forever.

If that is to be the way of it, Crowley refuses to let that happen here.

But will he have a choice?

Crowley drops to his knees. “Angel!?” He grabs Aziraphale’s upper arms and gives him a shake. “Can you hear me?”

“Mmm … Crowley?” Aziraphale replies, the voice sliding between his lips a mixture of the one Crowley knows and something tainted and coarse.

“Thank God,” Crowley breathes before he can catch himself. “Angel? I need you to open your eyes and look at me. Can you do that?”

Aziraphale hums in response. “I’ll … I’ll try.”

“Don’t try! Do it, Aziraphale!” Crowley’s head falls forward, his forehead finding Aziraphale’s and pressing gently against it. “Please, Aziraphale? Open your eyes. Do this for me. I need to make sure …” Crowley can’t finish, the words clogging his throat, wrenching his windpipe shut.

“All … all right.” Aziraphale clears his throat in between but it does nothing. Every word becomes rougher, the lyrical nature of his angelic voice eaten away. “I’ll … try.” His face scrunches as his eyelids pull, fighting to split and look upon his demon. Crowley hears him groan with the effort, this small task Herculean for some unknown reason.

Except there is one Crowley can think of, and it makes what’s left of his soul wither with the agony of defeat.

After several tense seconds of active praying on Crowley’s part, Aziraphale tips his head up, opens his eyes … and a single word escapes Crowley’s mouth. “No,” he says, shaking his head. “Please, God … no,” as Aziraphale comes to and blinks blood red eyes.

#good omens #ineffable husbands #crowley x aziraphale #aziraphale x crowley #frankie writes

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yourdeepestfathoms · 4 years

Text

Gift-fic for bessie-bass (because she has all the best headcanons)

She’d barely given two minutes thought to the tweet- that was the really frustrating thing. She’d meant it as a joke- it’d been born from a moment of mild frustration, sure, but she hadn’t meant anything bad by it, she’d typed it out in less than a minute before tossing her phone aside and going back to work.

‘Love having my costume purloined at the last moment- perhaps I’ll grab a spare queen dress next time I need to do laundry lol’

It had been barely a day later when the director had pulled her aside and asked if she’d looked at her feed lately. Of course she hadn’t, and said as much- she’d been working more or less nonstop to ensure everything was going smoothly with the new alts….and when he’d brought it up on his own phone, she felt suddenly sick.

People were so ANGRY- so many tweets, direct and indirect, all telling her that she was awful, rude, disrespectful, that she was trying to ‘erase’ the queens and their alts, that she was giving herself undue importance, that she should be GRATEFUL that she could be of help to someone so much more important than herself….

And then the others, wishing her every sort of pain, graphic descriptions of what they wanted done to her in retribution….

Watching her face, the director closed the tab after a couple of minutes but she’d had more than enough time to get the gist of it. She felt light headed, like she was in freefall.

What had she done?

Perhaps her distress was obvious- the ticking off was brief, but it still stung: not least to be scolded like a child but to be blamed for the response, as if it had been something she wanted.

The injustice of it all roared in her ears and drowned out at least half of the lecture- when she realised that input was expected from her, she mumbled and apology and fled to the dressing room, grateful at least that it was a Sunday and that the theatre was relatively empty aside from her and few others putting in extra hours.

Sitting down at her station, she tried to refocus herself back on her work but thoughts buzzed round and round her head like angry bees- humiliation, guilt, anger….and under all of it, she just felt sad.

People she didn’t even know, would never know, were somehow angry enough at her to want everybody to know….and the thought made her feel very alone.

Suddenly, she wanted Cathy- to see her or even just hear her voice, to be able to remind herself that at least one person wasn’t angry with her, that at least one person didn’t think she was bad. The strength of her feelings was surprising and disconcerting too. She wasn’t used to needing people (she wasn’t used to having people to need) and it made her wonder if she’d become weak, if getting used to having Cathy smile at her and ask about her day had stripped away some of her self reliance.

It made her wonder if she should resist calling or texting- if she should push through the sadness like it was an addiction until she just stopped feeling altogether….but after a few minutes of pretending to make notes, she had snatched up her phone and was keying in a message.

‘Hi. Sorry to bother you. I hope you’re not busy.’

Her hands shook as she pressed send- and then it occurred to her that perhaps Cathy wouldn’t even have her number saved and added a quick ‘This is Joan btw.’

It was only after she sent it that it occurred to her that not identifying herself would have allowed her some leeway to make comforting excuses to herself if (when) Cathy didn’t reply….but almost immediately, her phone buzzed with a message.

‘Not busy and not a bother- what’s up?’

Then, quick on its heels: ‘I knew it was you silly, I have your number saved!’

It was nice, she found, the image of Cathy actually saving her number into her contact list (the idea of her number being included in the list of Cathy’s actual friends, as if she was no different from any of them).

She agonised over what to put- she didn’t want to explain exactly but she wasn’t sure if she’d be able to put up a good front and pretend she was only texting to chat. Besides, she never texted for nothing. Still though-

She composed and deleted half a dozen responses- and then her phone started ringing, surprising her so much that she nearly dropped it.

‘Hi!’ Cathy sounded bright, cheerful- not as if she needed her free afternoon ruined by Joan’s stupidity and neediness. ‘What’s up? Thought I’d just call rather than waiting for you to reply-’

The chiding was of the very lightest, most friendly sort- and yet it was also much too much for Joan’s current state: the implication that she had annoyed Cathy on top of everyone else (the idea that she was frustrating her, irritating her, using up her patience) was something she just couldn’t deal with.

She gave a little gasp and burst into tears.

Straight away, she tried to find the button to end the call- she didn’t want Cathy to hear her being so pathetic (Cathy wouldn’t WANT to see her so pathetic)- but her tears made everything blurry and her hands were shaking too much to work properly.

‘Joan? Joan? Are you there?’

Cathy’s voice sounded tinny through the speaker but her tone was unmistakably frantic. It gave Joan pause that she sounded so concerned- and she immeadiately mentally berated herself for (selfishly) giving her closest (only) friend worry over something so stupid.

She tried to take a deep breath as she pressed the phone to her ear.

‘I- I’m here- I’m sorry, I-’ Another sob almost choked her.

‘What’s the matter sweetheart?’ The warm concern in Cathy’s voice was like honey. ‘Can you tell me what’s wrong?’

She had intended to lie and pretend to be ok (she had surely forfeited her right to comfort for being so dramatic) but instead she found herself pouring out the whole stupid story in a teary, hiccupy rush, while Cathy hummed and made soothing noises of understanding into the reciever.

‘-and now everyone hates me, and it’s just-’ She pressed a hand to her eyes as she finished, already dreading Cathy’s reaction. ‘- it’s just all ruined….’

‘Oh you poor poor thing.’ Cathy sounded so very loving, it was enough to bring fresh tears to her eyes- it was unbelievable to Joan that she didn’t sound even a little bit cross or annoyed. ‘That all sounds dreadful sweetheart, I’m so sorry-’ There was a pause and some tapping and Joan realised she must be at her laptop. ‘I haven’t even looked at twitter in days-’ Suddenly her voice was louder, indignant. ‘Oh my GOD….they- Oh Joan! I can’t believe they- it’s so-’ The fact that Cathy was speechless made Joan feel a tiny bit better: it was nice to know that perhaps she wasn’t overreacting, that other people were horrified too, that Cathy was clearly not holding her to account for how things had turned out (perhaps Cathy didn’t think she deserved it).

‘They’re…..a bit irate….’

She wanted to sound funny but it just came out as a flat little whimper. It was too hard to mask how absolutely crushed she felt- as if someone had pulled out her insides, as if she was collapsing in on herself.

‘They’re AWFUL!’ Cathy sounded angrier than Joan had ever heard her. ‘The fact that they think they can treat you like this, especially under the guise of ‘protecting’ us….I’m going to write a tweet right now, let them know EXACTLY what I think of them….’ From how fierce she sounded, Joan almost felt sorry for anyone to catch her ire. ‘I wish I had them here now so I could really make them sorry-’ Suddenly, she paused, perhaps remembering that she was still on the phone.

‘Joan, sweetheart, where are you?’

The question took her by surprise. ‘The theatre- why-?’

Cathy sounded a bit surprised. ‘Well I’m coming to get you. Obviously.’

There was nothing obvious about it to Joan- she tried to protest.

‘It’s your free day though- you shouldn’t have to waste it on me!’ She brushed at her swollen eyes with her sleeve. ‘I’m fine really- I just needed to tell someone but I’m ok, I don’t need-’

‘Joan.’ Cathy’s voice cut through her rambling. ‘You’re definitely not fine. No one would be fine.’

‘Yes but-’

‘I’m coming to get you. You don’t have to talk to me if you don’t want to and I’ll take you straight home if you like, if you want some space but….you really should take some time to relax.’ Cathy’s voice was insistent but soft, fond. ‘You work too hard. You need a break.’

‘Honestly you don’t have to, I can get a cab or walk or-’

‘Now-’ Cathy carried on talking as if Joan hadn’t even spoken. ‘Why don’t you go and wash your face, get some tissues and a drink of a water and make yourself comfy in my dressing room until I’m there? I think I left my sweater on the sofa- did you remember to even take a coat with you?’

There was an embarrassed silence that answered her better than words and Cathy laughed quietly. ‘Thought not. Put it on, if it’s there and get yourself settled and I’ll be with you in a little bit ok? And then I’m going to get you home, run you a nice hot bath so you can relax, make you some hot chocolate and we’ll pile up some pillows and blankets on your bed and watch a movie or something ok? Something to take your mind off things. Sound good?’

It sounded so very good that Joan found herself actually nodding into the phone, as if Cathy could see.

‘-and you’re going to actually eat something for dinner that’s real food’ Cathy continued. ‘Because I know you haven’t been taking proper care of yourself lately, what with all the new cast and everything. And you’re going to get some sleep at some point, because if you haven’t been eating, you probably haven’t been sleeping-’

(It occured to Joan that Cathy could perhaps be compared to a bulldozer. A very tiny, very soothing blue bulldozer.)

‘-and I’m not going to leave until I’m sure you’re ok again. And then….’ Cathy’s voice takes on a slightly sinister edge. ‘I’m going on twitter because I REFUSE to let them treat you like this. And also at some point there is a tv series I want your opinion on. But that can wait til you’re up to it.’ She takes a breath. ‘Sound like a plan?’

Joan wanted to protest again, to tell Cathy not to waste her time, to enjoy her free day and not worry…. But somehow she heard herself giving a very quiet assent to Cathy’s plan, and when the other woman arrived at the theatre half an hour later, slightly breathless and armed with a thermos of hot tea, a tube of eye gel and a bag of Joan’s favourite Malteasers, she found Joan wrapped up in her big blue cardigan and sipping a glass of water.

Just as she had ordered.

#HOLY F U C K OH MY GOD I LOVE THIS SO MUCH #THIS IS SO CUTE #YOU WROTE THEM SO WELL!!!!#first of all #the subtle nods to the recent drama was 👌 it honestly fits joan really well #the director fucking griping at joan for it was also a nice touch #she doesnt deserve that at all but I love that angst #then her wanting to talk to her friend 🥺🥺#I absolutely LOVED cathy’s reaction!!#like oh my god she is gonna kill someone #and I am HERE FOR IT #everything about this is perfect and adorable and I love it so much!!#thank you so so much I dont deserve you or this 🥺🥺#this was really sweet of you to send it #it made me so happy #thank you 💖💕💘💗💖💕💘💗💖💕💘💗💖💕💘💗#submission #not my writing #six the musical fanfiction #six the musical fanfic #six the musical tour #uk tour six #tour catherine parr #tour joan on the keys

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obiwon-shenobi · 4 years

Text

I write btw

This goes out to my SasuSaku fans

Paring: SasuSaku

Genre: supernatural

Rating: none yet but strong language/no cursing tho

Words: 1662

Chapters: 🏃🏾🏃🏾🏃🏾

“There once was a queen so powerful they called her ‘God slayer.’ The ones closest to her knew better than to call her that, to them she was ‘The One Who Swallowed The Daystar.’ Her enemies only knew cool steel pressed to their hot necks and bolden bloody eyes willing death to take them to hell’s gate. A champion worshiped among mortals, gossip to the heavens, a beauty feared nonetheless. She who wrestled god and won. Even she had her Achilles.

Mortals. The starts and ends of many wars, devastators of great lands. The ones like The Queen insisted the humans were impure, unjust beings, they were to be kept at the base of the mountain, never to gaze upon those specially gifted. Lower life forms. Cattle moo loudly, but they are still cattle. And yet…

The moment their eyes met that fateful day, god herself could not separate her from him. She lavished him with gifts, spun precious compliments, bathed him in sunlight. She let him drink from her, birthing him in powers unknown to his human soul. Of all the gifts he cherished his swords most. Kusanagi, a valiant, vivid bronze broadsword created in the image of Valor. Mars, a sword unlike any found on Earth created in the image of God. Excalibur, a long sword of steel and water, the image of Balance etched into the gold handle. And his most treasured of all: Damokles, said to be Mars’ complete foil. A sword never used, the blade unknown, powers yet to be released. Each sword had a purpose— Mars’ protected the realm of the specially gifted, Kusanagi oversaw the human, Excalibur brought both to harmony. The Mortal King once inquired of Demokles, why he had never seen the blade, why it stays wrapped in silk cloth untouched when it’s his? A king cannot wield a sword who’s powers lay unknown.

‘Damokles, my love. Is what Mars is for you to me. The only way to kill a God is this one sword. Forged deep in a cavern volcano, pressed with my very own blood, you my dear, hold the power to Kill a Mage.’

The specially gifted took up arms at the Mortal King, cattle are still cattle and cows do not belong in the palace. They devised a plan. On the fourth night of October, just before the rising crimson moon, a spell was to be placed on the Mortal King. In a week, he would carry out a task most heinous. On the forty-sixth year of her birth, The Queen would meet her end, and The Mortal King would be the culprit, Demokles his damning weapon. Upon waking from his haze, overcome with grief, the Mortal King hid away his three precious swords (The Queen and Demokles being stolen in the fray) and withered to ash, carried east by the Wind.”

A slew of hands shoot up, eager round faces bouncing in place, all curious, all perplexed. The most intriguing is a blond boy, a hybrid fox boy, who’s stark incisors draw blood from the left corner of his mouth.

A soft sigh leaves the teacher, the talented mage he is, Iruka never had all the answers to Naruto’s ten thousand questions. Every field trip, every lesson, even during breaks, the boy always had stars of wonder in his azure eyes. “Yes, Naruto?”

“So if the Mages were born from swallowing a daystar, whatever that is, why was she called the ‘God Slayer’ and ‘She Who Wrestled God?’ And what exactly is a ‘daystar’ and why don’t we have to swallow them, and—“ if it weren’t for the breath he had to take, Naruto would have surely asked questions the entire class had.

“They don’t know where Mages come from, actually.” Sasuke, a boy with little magic infinitive, mutters. Although his starless irises bear the mark of unimpressed, Naruto and Sasuke were never far from one another. Sasuke may even call him his best friend if they’re alone. “Pay attention during lessons.”

“Then what’s a daystar, Sasuke? Huh?” Iruka sighs again. “See even you don’t know, don’t interrupt Sensei like that.”

“Thank you, Naruto. And Sasuke.” They carry on further into the exhibition, a timeline of Mages from as early as 300 b.c, eroded and tattered memories of the past. “The Daystar theory is,” Iruka stops in front of an illustration of the day sky over the Hokage Castle, a bright star sits just above the highest tower. “There was a star so bright you could see it even when the sun was shining, or it was raining, The Queen one day observed it fall from the heavens. She then picked up the star and swallowed it, gaining powers from God.” The class moves to the next picture, a man of gold and a woman more beautiful than they’ve ever seen in a crater. “The God theory comes from the same origin, but rather than a star, it’s a God, and this God is a god of war. He challenges The Queen, and when she wins, he gifts her her powers. The Queen then in turn blesses that power onto her subjects. And that’s where we think Mages come from.” The class gives a resounding ‘Ah’. “We don’t have to swallow stars or fight gods, our ancestors did that for us.”

Another hand goes up, another hybrid boy, a snow breed, “if the swords are hidden, then how can we and humans live in peace?”

“Preceptive, Kiba. We have a treaty and due process in place for that, and...” Iruka leads them to another room, this room huge but empty, only one artifact lay on display, one wrapped in blue silk cloth. “The only sword to ever be recovered was Damokles.” The class erupts, angry shouts and chaos descends over the twelve-year-olds as a few cry they don’t want to die. “Ah, no, children! No I didn’t mean to frighten you, please.” Some stressed into changing forms, others magic exploding like dynamite in their pockets, a few crying to go home. Iruka knew it was futile, he’d have to let them calm down on their own, this wasn’t the first class to have a meltdown over Damokles’ existence, hence the barren room.

What Iruka did notice, however, was how none of the panicking kids were Sasuke or Naruto, who were standing closer to the sword now, leaning towards it. They’re speaking, but whatever it is goes lost to the noise. Sasuke looks more invested in the swathed blade than his friend's words, it’s only when he reaches out for it does the teacher strode over. “Uchiha Sasuke.” Both boys jump, the room settles down, a few scattered whimpers can still be heard. “I know it’s fascinating but you can’t touch the artefacts.”

“But Sensei, it told me to.” Everyone is thrown immediately back into tears and oblivion. The only human in their class can talk to a demon sword, they wailed. “Well not like that you guys! It just… beckoned me to touch it.” That did so little to quell his classmates, Sasuke’s shoulders sag in defeat.

“I didn’t hear anything,” Naruto admits when Iruka’s raised eyebrow and honey glare meet him. “But Sasuke isn’t a liar.” A determined face washes over the blond, throwing his right arm over his friend in comfort. “No harm in touching and nothing happening!”

Ino, another blonde but an elemental mage, shudders. “Or he touches it and we all die!” Hinata, another elemental shrieks.

“Come now kids please. Sasuke won’t touch the sword, we aren’t going to die, they aren’t even sure this is the actual sword Damokles. It was found while excavating under Hokage Mountain, so they suspect it’s The God Slayer Blade, but there’s no evidence.”

“Has anyone tested it out?” Choji, a skilled kitchen witch, is peeking from behind Ino, who is hidden behind Shikamaru, a telekinetic. “Like on a Mage?”

“Well no.” Iruka leads the class to the hieroglyphs on the wall. “To ensure fairness, Damokles could only be wielded by The Mortal King and his heir, but because they had no children, there’s no one alive who can wield any of the four swords if real. So no, Sasuke isn’t going to kill us if he touches it.” Although quelled, this field trip ensured Sasuke’s life was very hard up till graduation. In the real world no one cares if you’re human, Mages, hybrids, and spirits alike congregate harmoniously in Konohana, and after finding that out, Sasuke lived his life quietly running a bar at twenty-five.

School might’ve been hell, but the real world still had Naruto in it, even Kiba had warmed up to him, often the pair coming by for a drink. Naruto does coaching at the college, Kiba an outdoor guide of some sort, both very welcomed patrons.

Occasionally they joke on the day Sasuke almost murdered his classmates, Sasuke not finding it to be such a sore spot, but one of his most powerful moments. No one fears humans, especially not Mages, hybrids are more enamoured than intimidated, and spirits find joy in their inconveniences. Sasuke still insists he heard the sword, but whenever they insist on going back to the museum, he’s first to deny. That one day would be enough.

~~~

He stabbed her… in the chest. With a sword she had gifted to him from her own blood she bore a blade only for he who stole her life? Her head was reeling, this place— what was it again? Not heaven, absolutely not hell. The weather is nice and it’s bright, the stream she floats on has carried her for centuries. She had an inkling, something terrible happened in her life, something truly awful brought her here. And now she knew. The blood still pours from the closed sore, she’d have vengeance, on him, on the Mages, on the Earth. All those who betrayed her will meet their end in time, for now she drifts on the endless stream.

So you can find me here

And here

#sasusaku #uchiha Sasuke #haruno sakura #fanfiction #naruto #naruto fanfiction #SasuSaku story #uchiha sakura #anime #anime fanfic #leave reviews #I like those #this is also a crosspost on ffn and Ao3

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dummythiccisheretowrite · 5 years

Text

drunken confessions

Brian May x Reader

SHE LONG

this was requested by @kazzish (btw you’re rlly pretty and my bi heart is quaking uwu) also, I can’t remember if this is fully what you requested and tumblr isn’t letting me look at your request so I’m sorry if it’s not. Also I’m finishing this at one am so it might not be the best. Pls be gentle on me I am but a creature, I cannot help this ok goodnight uwu

BTW I have literally NEVER been drunk before, only tipsy and I don’t really remember what it was like. I was told that I apparently started literally crying when my Friends took a cooler away from me tho. So there’s that. ALSO, thoughts are like italicised or whatever you call it idk they’re like this

Okay, onward with the fic, comrades :(

College so far was a fucking mess, weekends were filled with parties; beer bottles and the strong stench of weed. Weekdays were filled with stressful cramming for tests and projects and the nursing of regretful hangovers. You were ecstatic that summer had finally arrived and your seemingly never-ending second year had finally ended. You had plans on going back home and staying with your mother for a bit and to top it off your older brother had invited you to a show he was playing at with his band. Originally, he was in a band with his friends Tim Staffell and Brian May, which lasted until Tim left the band to join another one. Luckily, soon after, him and Brian formed a new band called Queen with another one of Rogers friends, Freddie Mercury, and later on one of his newer friends, John Deacon.

The drive home was long and tiring, after having supper with your mum and Roger you all decided to head to bed with Roger going back to his flat he shared with his friends. Being back in your old bedroom felt weird, sure there was less stuff because most of it was at your flat; but there was still posters of bands you had liked on the walls and old clothes of yours hanging in the closet. It had been over a year since you were last in here but it looked untouched, and you wondered if your mum had come in here at all since you’d left. You could barely sleep that night, excited to see the band the next day and see Freddie and Brian. They’d always been very kind to you, Freddie always gifting you clothes he’d thought you’d liked and Brian helping you with your studies. You’d always had a bit of a crush on Brian, Freddie being the type to have some sort of weird sixth sense on these type of things, caught on right away and always relentlessly teased you about it.

The next day, Roger picked you up to go to the flat he shared with the others; Freddie hadn’t changed a bit and greeted you with quite a dramatic “darling, it’s been so long!” John, the newest member you hadn’t met yet gave a shy smile and a quiet, polite “hello, nice to meet you.” Brian, if possible, seemed even taller and more handsome than he had the last time you saw him. Feeling bold, you gave him a hug and a smile, pulling away you could’ve sworn you saw a blush appear on his cheeks. The day was spent getting caught up and spending time with everyone until evening came and their show was soon to start.

You watched backstage as they went on to perform, sipping a beer as you couldn’t help but stare at Brian as he played. He looked almost angelic like this, curls lightly bouncing and an intense look of concentration written on his face. You started growing nervous at the realization that maybe your teenage crush hadn’t gone away, attempting to forget about it, you started drinking more and more. By the time they came back, you were absolutely smashed. Brian gave you a worried look as he put down his guitar and walked up to you. “Now we know she’s for sure related to Roger,” Freddie joked, as Brian took the beer bottle away from you. Roger groaned in frustration as he attempted to try to get you to stand up. “Now I’ve gotta fucking take you home and mum will have a fit if she sees you like this,” he complained as you lost your balance and fell back in your seat.

“I can take her home,” Brian offered, already putting his coat on and grabbing yours. “Are you sure?” Roger asked, “you really don’t have to do that.” Brian nodded, “I don’t really feel like drinking anyways,” he said as he helped you stand up. You held onto his arms, scared that if you didn’t you’d lose your balance again. “Don’t do anything stupid,” Roger called as you two started to head out of the pub. “Basically don’t do anything Roger would do then,” Freddie quipped, which earned him a smack to the arm from his friend.

The drive back to their flat was peaceful, it was decided that it’d be better for you to crash there for the night rather than take you home and have poor Brian try to explain to your mother why you were incredibly intoxicated. The night sky was filled with stars, you were drifting in and out of sleep as Brian talked to you about all the constellations. You could barely understand what he was saying, especially in the state that you were in but his voice sounded soft and sweet and you couldn’t help smiling as your eyes closed.

The car pulled to a stop and you heard Brian open and close the door, you yawned a little when he came to your side and opened the passenger door. You couldn’t help but think of how nice he is as he helped you out of the car and into the flat; an arm wrapped around your waist to keep you steady. “Thank you,” you slurred as he unzipped your coat and helped your arms out of the sleeves. “I just don’t know why you drank so much,” he chuckled, leading you to his bedroom. You shrugged, “just nervous, last time I saw you I-,” you stopped talking, a little aware that sober you wouldn’t appreciate drunk you revealing your crush. Brian raised an eyebrow, a curious expression on his face.

“You what?”

You sat on the bed, trying to look at anything else but him.

The floors are carpeted, neato. There’s a sock, it’s got stripes so it’s kinda cooler than the carpet. There’s a speck of dust, not really cool.

“Y/n, is everything okay?” Brian was sitting on the bed next to you now, you couldn’t tell if you were nauseous because of nerves or because you had chugged around three beers an hour earlier. Probably both.

“It’s really stupid,” You cringed at how shaky your voice sounded and wiped your sweaty palms on your pants. “Like really stupid, it doesn’t even matter. You’re probably tired, we should just go to sleep,” You moved to lay down, facing away from him. You felt even more stupid when you felt tears prick at the corner of your eyes. “Whatever you have to say it’s not stupid, it’s better to talk about it than keep it in,” Brian said, putting a hand on your shoulder and rubbing it softly. You exhaled shakily and wiped some tears away.

“I like you, like more than a friend.”

A painful silence filled the room, you pulled the covers over your head and Brian quickly pulled them away. “Piss off, I’m trying to suffocate myself,” you said, nudging him with your elbow, earning a soft chuckle from him. “I like you too,” he replied, you stopped trying to suffocate yourself with the covers; instead sitting up and turning to face him.

“Wait, what?”

“I like you,” Brian repeated. He was staring at you now, a mixture of sincerity and adoration in his eyes, “I really do.” You swallowed a lump that’d formed in your throat, “oh, okay,” you said, rather dumbly. Brian playfully frowned, “that’s it? Oh, okay?” he mocked. You rolled your eyes and lightly shoved him, “I’m drunk, tired and an idiot, let me be,” you whined. Brian smiled, “go to sleep, we can talk more about this later,” he promised. You frowned, wanting to argue, but found yourself too tired. “You’ll still feel the same tomorrow, right?” You asked, laying down and wrapping yourself in the covers. He nodded, moving to lay down next to you.

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

#brian may #brian may fic #brian may fluff #brian harold may #brian may headcanon #queen band #queen #queen imagines #queen drabbles #brian may x reader #queen fic #borhap #borhap headcanon #borhap cast

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magioftheseas · 5 years

Text

Momentary Crumble

For @lesbiansasuke

Summary: Their relationship wasn't one that Kamukura expected to last forever. But when Hinata finally does break up with him, it hurts a little.

Rating: G

Warnings: It’s ANGST. NOBODY’S GETTING BACK TOGETHER.

Notes: I SHOULD’VE POSTED THIS SOONER BUT HERE’S THE COMMISH. KamuHina break-up angst! Good to go! I don’t write KamuHina super often but when I do, I tend to enjoy it a lot. They’re uh, obviously separate and unrelated in this AU, btw. So, uh, please enjoy Kamu being super in denial about how sad he is.

***Alternate Ao3 Link***

Commission? Donate?

Their relationship ended with a predictable lack of grace. Hajime hadn’t been able to meet his gaze, could only stare sullenly at the ground as he rubbed his nape. He trailed off when trying to explain his actions, it was painfully apparent that countless practices of this speech had not made it easier. He shuffled his feet, and then, and then...

“Very well.” The words from himself had been simple enough. “I understand. I wish you well.”

Somehow, Hinata only looked more unhappy, face falling and jaw going slack. It was a few tender seconds before his jaw tightened and he just nodded back.

“...bye, Izuru.”

The delivery was low and devoid of warmth. It was not cold, either, because Hinata Hajime wasn’t that kind of person. It just...was...what it was.

When they parted, there was nothing else worth noting.

“I’m going to stay with a friend for a bit, but... I swear I’ll come get my stuff later.”

“I understand.”

“Do you, now...?” Even through the phone, Hajime was an open book with complicated emotions seeping into a tone that tried to be detached. What face he must have made is easy to imagine. His lips twisting into a grimace, nose scrunching up, and the way his eyes were likely watering as if on the brink of tears. Hajime really could be so expressive. Even like this. “Well, I... I’ll call you if something comes up, alright? B-But please don’t...throw out my things if I take too long...”

“I would never do such a thing.”

“Um, that was a joke...” When Hajime laughs, it’s completely devoid of humor. “Sorry, sorry. Later, then. Bye.”

It took him a second too long to respond as Hajime had hung up before he could.

Predictable. Expectable behavior.

Hajime really can be so temperamental, he thinks as he shuffles through the drawers. And yet he keeps it all internalized. What a troublesome person.

At first, they had kept their clothing carefully and meticulously separated. Over time, those boundaries eroded as Hajime would start wearing his shirts more and more. They had the same size so it wasn’t a concern. He, too, would wear Hajime’s hoodies and jackets on occasion.

He had already packed the one he particularly favored. He knows Hajime would likely let him keep it if he asked—but that would be awkward, wouldn’t it, to continue wearing the coat of a former lover.

“But you really seem to like it.”

It wasn’t often Hajime smiled like that, wide and unmistakably fond. There was even a twinkle in his normally tired gaze, but he was relaxed.

“I suppose I am partial towards it,” he replied, sniffing the sleeve. “However it still smells like you.”

“Well...I like it too, so that’s unsurprising.” Hinata shrugged. “But, like, if you want it... You can just have it.”

He finished packing Hajime’s clothes. Next order of business is packing his books. Kamukura moves to the desk in the corner where some of them are stacked neatly. Kamukura had been the one to stack them because the other had a bad habit of scattering them. Hajime had always grabbed one, meaning to read it, but then his indecisiveness lead him to grab another and another.

Such a troublesome person.

“I-It’s because Sonia recommended all of them!” Hajime exclaimed, naturally flustered. “And they all sounded good, so—so I’m just not sure where to start!”

“Do you really want to read them?” he asked, unimpressed. “Or do you just feel pressured to?”

“I want to, o-of course I do...” Hajime was also unconvincing as always, gaze almost shamefully averted from his. His grip on the stack of books tightened. “I just got...overwhelmed.”

“That does not surprise me.”

But the way Hajime bit his lip gave him pause. With a sigh, he simply selected the top one of the stack and placed his hand atop it.

“Start from here. Work your way down. If I leave you to decide this on your own, you will never finish any of them.”

“You’re probably right,” Hajime sighed. “But haven’t you read any of these before?”

“I have.”

“So shouldn’t you already know what I would like?”

“I do.” A pause. “But it would be boring. I shall not deprive you of a pleasant surprise.”

“You would tell me if I wouldn’t like one, right?” Hajime asked, jaw tightening.

“Also too boring.”

“Figures...”

When he finishes packing, he labels the boxes appropriately in elegant script. He had done this before, when Hajime needed help moving from his apartment. Hajime shared it with a friend—and Kamukura wondered if it was the same friend he was staying with right now.

He would hope not. That one could be a bit slovenly. A bad influence on Hajime.

But, such matters were no longer his concern.

So he shall not worry about it. Instead, he stacks Hajime’s things neatly as he always had. Hajime will likely appreciate the gesture, even if he will accept it awkwardly.

...so now what?

The question inevitably came, and his restless mind locks onto it, frustrated and fixated.

I simply wait for Hajime to return so that he can properly leave me?

The answer is obvious, irrefutable, and unsatisfying.

This is aggravating. It is not boring, but it is beyond aggravating.

And, yet, what is he to do?

It’s not like I didn’t expect this. No, of course I expected this.

Him and Hajime started this relationship back in high school. It was destined for transience, and that it had lasted longer than expected was more out of convenience than passion. He found Hajime reliable, Hajime found him responsible. They cooperated well and even living together had been simple enough.

It was fine. Decent. Serviceable. They rarely fought. Hajime was easy company. Temporary comfort. It was never going to last.

Perhaps, he had considered it lasting. Considered it morphing from mild contentment into happiness. Because it had lasted longer than initially expected.

What folly. Shouldn’t he have known from the start?

He. Did know. He knew.

Didn’t he?

Actually. On the day of the breakup, he found he did not want to be alone in the immediate aftermath.

Matsuda Yasuke was temperamental and grouchy, but he was willing to put up with Kamukura’s company if it meant being treated to coffee.

“Have to admit,” he said, popping open the can. “I’m surprised he didn’t break up with your sooner.”

“Hajime reached his threshold, or he grew bored of me,” Kamukura replied quietly. He had no appetite, but that was fine. Matsuda would eat enough for the both of them. “I suppose it is to be expected.”

“It’s your own damn fault,” Matsuda huffed, unimpressed. “You didn’t put any effort into that relationship, of course it’d fall apart. The fact that Hinata Hajime stuck around only proved the guy was fucking desperate.”

“I did the chores, we went on dates, we partook in intimate activities. I did put in effort.”

“Intimate activities.” Matsuda snorted. “Yeesh. You really don’t get it. Your tone is robotic. No emotional investment at all.” He waved his hand. “Why did you even agree to date Hinata Hajime in the first place?”

“Because he asked,” he answered sincerely. “It would have been more boring to turn him down.”

Matsuda’s brow rose into his hairline, and even under an intense stare, he’s as flagrant as ever.

“Did you even like that guy?”

“I liked him.” Kamukura’s frown deepened. “I would not have remained with him if I disliked him.”

“It’s not about a lack of dislike,” Matsuda said. “What did you even want from that relationship? A momentary fling just wouldn’t be like you.”

What I wanted. What a question.

“It had to mean something to you, or else you wouldn’t be here—and yet you didn’t do anything to stop him from breaking up with you.”

Kamukura shook his head.

“That would not be respecting his wishes.”

“I guess...” Matsuda rolled his eyes. “If Hinata Hajime wasn’t a seriously infuriating and indirect guy...” A pause, giving more than enough time for Kamukura to shift at the words. Matsuda just went on, ever so dull, “Did you consider that maybe Hinata Hajime wanted you to...?”

He hangs on those words, but after a soft huffy exhale, Matsuda shrugged as though it were nothing. Nothing at all.

And it wasn’t anything anymore.

“Well. Whatever.”

“Whatever,” Kamukura could only echo blankly, the word like a plummet into freezing depths.

He prepares tea, the kind he knows that Hajime is at least a little fond of. Because—it is the last packet and it would be a shame to waste it.

Except when Hajime does arrive, offering little in the way of greetings or pleasantries and only looking at the ground when he talks—

“I won’t be long, so...”

“You would not like to sit down for a bit? You seem agitated.” Kamukura takes in the way he flinches at those words. As if they were meant to hurt. “I made tea.”

Hajime acknowledges the tea with a twisted up face.

“...I guess I can drink some...”

“I could also pour it into a thermos,” Kamukura said quietly. “Seeing as simply being here is stressful to you.”

Another flinch. This time, Hinata gave him that pained look.

Ah.

He almost couldn’t speak.

Almost.

“I shall help you move your things. It will not take long.”

“You don’t have to—”

“I. Insist.”

Hajime stiffened, biting his tongue before nodding along reluctantly.

“Fine,” he said, sullen about it. “If you insist, I guess it’s whatever.”

“Whatever,” Kamukura echoed.

Their relationship is over. It was always bound to end. The most that could be done now was to maintain a level of civility. They were both adults, after all.

Kamukura Izuru thinks that, and he drills it into his head over and over. A hundred times over with each trip it takes to transport every box into Hajime’s car. A thousand times over when he pours out the tea and Hajime thanks him ever awkwardly and unhappily.

Hajime does still enjoy the tea, but it’s with such melancholia that Kamukura felt as though he struck a great offense.

Have you really grown to hate being with me that much?

Hajime doesn’t meet his stare. In fact, he blatantly avoids it the more it intensifies.

You had called my presence calming once.

Of course. Hajime had called him unsettling, too.

Why did you seek my company in the first place?

He had asked that before.

“It’s because I think you’re cool,” Hajime had muttered, ever endearingly flustered. “D-Don’t look so deeply into it.”

And he hadn’t. He wouldn’t. It was a fleeting relationship from the start.

“...uh.”

Yet, when Hajime spoke up abruptly, he had perked.

“It was...fun. Thanks for...putting up with me all this time.” Hinata rubs at his nape irritably. He still doesn’t look at him. “You were pretty...accommodating.”

“I am glad that I was accommodating,” he replied. “And I suppose dating you was not terribly boring.”

“I’m glad I wasn’t boring.” Hajime says it so bitterly. “Shame then, things had to end, huh?”

Even when he nods along, Hajime’s stormy expression doesn’t lighten save for a stray glimmer. It flickers out akin to a dying bulb.

“Well.” Hajime stands, leaving behind a teacup empty save for withered tea leaves. “I’ll be...seeing you?”

“See you,” Kamukura said with another not. “Hajime, please take care.”

Hajime offers a strained smile, but he moves in quick strides, almost snatching up his coat.

Ah.

He still pauses at the door, just as Kamukura had thought to reach out.

Wait. Don’t go.

He shuffles uncomfortably, staring hard at the door, unaware or perhaps unsettled by the tumultuous atmosphere, thick and heavy with strife, a noxious smog threatening to suffocate them both.

Please don’t go. I... I...

“Hajime.”

He opened his mouth, inhaled sharply, and spoke calmly.

“I will be seeing you. Please. Take care.”

When I think about the kind of face you would make if I were to plead like that—I feel wretched.

Hajime doesn’t flinch, at least. He glances back, but it’s only a little. It’s enough to see that his smile doesn’t reach whatever those eyes may carry.

“You too, Izuru.”

It’s a simple couple of words, likely for courtesy. And yet, they held a fragile peace. One that was maintained even after Hinata Hajime shut the door behind him. There was not much to do except wash out the teacups, even as Kamukura Izuru found himself fiddling with broken tea leaves.

It was always inevitable, but—perhaps I can convince myself this is for the better.

There’s a strange sting. Groaning softly, Kamukura Izuru dabbed at his eyes, brow furrowing. Though his eyes were irritated, they did not drip the way the faucet did. He sets the cups aside once dried, and he—he...

He supposes he has much to think about.

Oh, Hajime.

Such thoughts brought a tremor to his frame, but that was simply the way of things.

#KamuHina #izuru kamukura #kamukura izuru #hajime hinata #hinata hajime #yasuke matsuda #Magi fics #lesbiansasuke #I really hope you like it!!!#Writing these two is a delight even when they make me feel like wilting #I'm always down for their disastrous relationships both with other people and each other #bless them

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shadowhuntertrash · 3 years

Text

High Notes

Chapter Six

Characters belong to Cassandra Clare

Matthew dropped his hand on Thoams’ shoulder and Thomas looked at him. Matthew was looking at him with a look that was strictly reserved for James, Thomas, and Christopher. A soft look that was often off-putting since he was constantly annoyed or making a joke out of everything and anything.

“You know Tommy we only pick on you because it’s easy with how embarrassed you get. We love you and as much as I dislike Alastair I think you two would be good for each other. Plus,” He added a wink that made Thomas blush before he even heard the next part. “I think you could teach him some well-needed manners.” Thomas laughed softly and gave Mattew a pointed look.

“You really shouldn’t make fun of my pining, saying as it is not nearly as bad as yours was.” Matthew put his hand to his chest in mock hurt. “You wound me, Thomas. Anyhow even if that was accurate,” He turned to James and stuck his tongue out boyishly. “Which it wasn’t,” He turned back to Thomas who was smiling at his friends. “It isn’t my fault you’re too nice and didn’t pick on me when you had the chance.” Thomas rolled his eyes.

It was common knowledge that Thomas was nice, it was why the fans had dubbed him the ‘Kind One’ or ‘Gentle Giant’ as some others called him. He hated that one thought, gentle giant, made him sound dull. They had dubbed Matthew as the ‘Sexy One’, James the ‘Mysterious One’, and Christopher, well Christopher was his own category.

Thomas pushed Matthew playfully and Matthew fell back dramatically accidentally falling on James, causing him to fall out of the seat. “Jesus Math, be careful,” James said taking Matthew’s outstretched hand and getting back to his feet, Matthew was too busy laughing to listen to him.

Thomas sat back watching them, his brothers by all means but blood, and smiled. How did he get so lucky?

Thomas grabbed his phone, turned the brightness down, as he began feeling the beginning of a headache, and read the texts he had received.

Matthew Unfairchild:

Sleep well dream of your knight in shining armor <3

Thomas scoffed and replied,

Tommy:

We all know I’m more into Prince Charming. <3

So Thomas had gone with her and they had stayed for two days, riding rides and meeting characters. The picture that made her profile was of her in front of Cinderella’s castle with a bunch of fireworks going off in the background. She was mid-jump and a look of pure happiness plastered on her face, she had an ice cream cone in her hand however the ice cream was mid-fall.

It was Thomas’s all-time favorite picture of her and he was quietly proud of his photography skills. Lucie’s parents, Tessa and Will had taken one look at the picture and demanded it be framed and hung on the wall of their house. Thomas was proud of that too.

Luce <33:

Matthew told me what happened. I'm so mad at myself. You two were finally gonna kiss and I messed it up I’m so sorry Tommy.

Thomas laughed and shook his head. It seemed everyone was rooting for them and Thomas was quietly pleased. Thomas just hoped he wasn’t going off of false hope.

Tommy:

It’s fine sweetie don’t worry about it. I wasn’t thinking anyway.

Gideon’s mouth fell open slightly, understanding brightening his eyes. He walked over quickly and hugged her, Sophie joining quickly. The video ended then and Thomas sent his sister a text.

Tommy:

Aww! They’re so proud! I’m proud of you. It was about time Oliver took the next step! Love you tons miss you more!

Thomas opened the last unread message and furrowed his eyebrows, it was an unknown number. Thomas opened it and felt a smile stretching across his face.

Unknown Number:

Hey I asked Lucie for your number hope you don’t mind.

Unknown Number:

It’s Alastair btw lol

Tommy:

Oh hey I don’t mind sorry for responding late

Thomas stared down at the message, that was cool, right? Not too eager, not too pushy. Thomas sighed roughly and put his phone on the nightstand by their beds. Thomas closed his eyes and replayed the events of the day, the practicing, the boys trying to convince him to sing at a concert, the girl's words which were still ringing in his ears much to his dismay, and Alastair.

Thomas got up and picked up his guitar. It had been a long day and he had written a song but he didn’t want to play it for anyone yet. It was deeper than his normal ones, it was more just words he needed out of his head. Thomas huffs loudly the girls' words playing on repeat in his head, he could tell he was getting a migraine but he bit back the pain and started strumming.

I don't know why I just feel I'm better off

Stayin' in the same room I was born in

I look outside and see a whole world better off

Without me in it tryin' to transform it

You are out of my mind, oh

You aren't seein' my side, oh

You waste all this time tryin' to get to me

But you are out of my mind, yeah

Listen, I know

This one's a contradiction because of how happy it sounds

But the lyrics are so down

It's okay though

Because it represents, wait, better yet it is

Who I feel I am right now

You are out of my mind, oh

You aren't seein' my side, oh

You waste all this time tryin' to get to me

But you are out of my mind

Heard you say, "Not today"

Tore the curtains down, windows open, now make a sound

Heard your voice, "there's no choice"

Tore the curtains down, windows open, now make a noise

Oh, don't you test me, no

Just because I play the piano

Doesn't mean I, I'm not willin' to take you down

I'm sorry

I'm, I'm out of my mind, oh

I'm not seein' things right, oh

I waste all this time tryin' to run from you

But I'm, I'm out of my mind

Heard you say, "Not today"

Tore the curtains down, windows open, now make a sound

Heard your voice, "there's no choice"

Tore the curtains down, windows open, now make a noise

Ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, yeah, oh

Ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh

You are out of my mind

You aren't seein' my side

You waste all this time tryin' to get to me

But you are out of my mind

Heard you say, "Not today"

Tore the curtains down, windows open, now make a sound

Heard your voice, "there's no choice"

Tore the curtains down, windows open, now make a noise

Buh buh bah, buh buh bah

Bah bah bah bah bah, bah bah bah bah bah

Buh buh bah, buh buh bah

Bah bah bah bah bah, bah bah bah bah bah

Buh buh bah, buh buh bah (Not today)

Bah bah bah bah bah (Not today), bah bah bah bah bah (Not today)

Buh buh bah (No, not today), buh buh bah (Not today)

(Oh nah nah no) Bah bah bah bah bah, bah bah bah bah (No) bah (No)

Ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh

Everyone knew where the others were sleeping in case of emergency or if they just wanted to hang out.

Thomas looked at him for a while trying to wrap his head around why Alastair was there before slowly realizing that this wasn’t the girls' room it was Alastair’s. Thomas groaned loudly and stumbled slightly. Alastair’s eyes, normally playful and joyous, were now darkening; he was practically scowling and Thomas shrunk away.

“Thomas you all but collapsed in front of me and you’re saying there’s nothing wrong?” Thomas let out a small noise. “James and Matthew are shagging.” Alastair’s eyebrows shot up. That was obviously not what he was expecting, Thomas laughed. “And this affects you and I how?” Thomas closed his eyes, the pain radiating and pulsing in his head.

“I needed his medicine.” Thomas explained quietly trying to show him he needed to be quiet. He seemed to take the message because the next time he spoke it was significantly quieter. “Thomas, what medicine?” Thomas furrowed his brows trying to think of the name but giving up quickly when that just made the pain in his head worse. He really really hated migraines.

Alastair gave him a serious look and took his hand gently leading him inside the cold hotel room. “Thomas just come here. What medicine do you need?” Thomas didn’t even try to fight him, knowing Alastair was too stubborn to let him go easily. He was attempting to ignore the fact that his head was steadily getting worse and how his stomach was flipping dangerously. “Migraine,” Thomas said simply, answering Alastair’s question as best he could. Alastair looked at him wearily.

“Is that what’s going on? You have a migraine?” Thomas nodded and that was all it took to push him overboard. Thomas gasped and stood up quickly stumbling to the bathroom and barely making it in time to empty his stomach in the toilet. He felt a hand on his back and soothing words but the burn in his throat and throbbing in his head was all he could think about.

Thomas took the water gratefully and drank it quickly, only stopping when Alastair put a hand on his and carefully lowered it, taking the glass with it. “I brought you some medicine too. It’s not migraine medicine but it should help a little.” Thomas nodded, head still throbbing, and took the small pills Alastair had offered him. He threw them back easily and swallowed them dry, taking the drink back from Alastair’s frozen hand.

#high notes #high notes: chapter six #thomastair #thomas lightwood #alastair carstairs #merry thieves #cordelia carstairs #lucie herondale

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everydreamtilldawn · 5 years

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Endgame Thoughts *Spoilers obviously and a whole lot of venting*

OK Endgame, here we go! The absolute disrespect to the audience, the actors, the characters, and all the other creators who put so much work and care into building characters and stories for the other movies and shows which led up Infinity War and Endgame. The Russos are so far up their own asses with how good they think they are. I'm so done with their pure spoiler free excuses. Not letting actors know what scenes they're in, who they're with - wasting oscar winning actors on their own bloated egos insisting adults can't be trusted not to cause a PR scandal over their fanfic. Those assholes put themselves into the canon as "the first canon gay character". Oh, Mr. Unnamed Guy 32 is the first gay character out of all these hundreds of people on screen? Oh Mr. Russo well we all better get on our knees and kiss your gay dick in thanks then you ass faced worthless shit for brain. What a fucking insult. Who has the actual nerve? Who actually has an ego so big they don't actually see the lgbt community and their issues as something to take seriously within their narrative - its like their heads have been under a rock the past few years thinking of only their wonderful, unbeatable movie that they have no idea gay people are main characters now and have their own movies elsewhere in the world. We're not nameless, background characters you dicks. The fact that 10 years led up to this is like spitting in the face of your audience and telling them exactly how little you actually care about them except for their money. Every bit of Endgame highlighted and emphasized the flaws that was the monstrosity that was Infinity War. Starting there - I will never get over the fact that the end battle of Endgame so clearly shows how awful the previous movie was. I think I've told you all the problems I have with IW before but to emphasize again - the "we don't trade lives" concept is still something I'm furious over. The fact that grand old captain america wasn't willing to kill Vision for the UNIVERSE but was ok with a few hundred Wakandan's dying for Vision to maybe live? Bullshit. AND that final battle? WTF so we're supposed to believe that in the... five?... ten minutes? after being snapped back to life all those people got off their asses? I can't even. They expect us to believe that when you put all those geniuses, warriors, battle proven tacticions, strategists and spies in a room that they still make all those obvious mistakes when they know the UNIVERSE is at stake? Where was that army of sorcerers in battle one? Why did Wong or whatever his name is really HAVE to protect that one sanctum even knowing the fate of the UNIVERSE was at stake? They had hours to plan. HOURS. If not days?!?!?!?!?! They went to different countries, they had time to sit and plan. They had time to call in the world's resources to prepare, to gather armies. Instead they fought with Wakanda and a handful of superheroes - why??? They literally knew the stakes, the only reason they didn't have the huge army battle scene in Infinity War is because Marvel wanted another movie. They wanted to make billions on Endgame cause they knew audiences would come back if they shock value killed half the universe and then brought them back for battle two but uhhhhhhh.... On your left was a great badass scene and all. But they had max like ten minutes to gather forces who legit just came back to life. Who sent out that distress call btw? Why did all these people NOW have a plan of attack and were gathered in preparation to fight?

Was it badass? Was the shot of Captain America alone against an entire army not iconic? OF COURSE. I loved that scene. I loved the women gathering around Peter and racing to fight against the army as one. It was legendary. There were some really funny, badass, and wonderful moments. But it was a bad story. It was bad writing. Working my way down from character murders that least upset me to most. Black Widow. She finally came to life in this movie. She was a leader, she had emotions, she was more than a catsuit, a sexy smile and a witty comment. I adored her. I despise her death. I hated that in the end she was still another pretty face lying sexily at the bottom of a pit for the life and will of a man. I’m half okay with her death, because it was almost justified. In this story where she was finally a fully-fledged and fleshed out person – she had wants and goals and those centered around protecting her family. The character she was in this movie didn’t even begin to exist until Endgame and it’s a tragedy that she was murdered before she even reached her full potential. But she did want to sacrifice herself so the universe could live again. She wanted Clint to go back to his family. She wanted to give her life for the only thing she loved. BUT Clint was the true perfect mirror for this narrative. Thanos sacrificing Gamora will never be okay. Gamora said it herself – that wasn’t love. That was glorifying abuse. Thanos never should have been given the soul stone under the ridiculous and unclear rules of the soul stone. Honestly, I’d believe Red Skull is just fucking with everybody at this point with how ridiculous those rules are. No way is what Thanos did love. I will come back to the Russos glorifying and being okay with child abusers when I get to Tony and his father. Clint would have been the mirror to Thanos in that moment. Instead of a father killing his daughter, it would have been a father dying for his daughter. His relationship to his daughter is even highlighted at the start of the movie and in his time travel moment. Clint hated who he’d become, he was ready and willing to sacrifice himself for his family and at that point he deserved it. As shown later with Tony – the theme of fathers sacrificing themselves is a relevant theme. So why Natasha in that moment. Why not the father? Why not the narrative mirror? Why the only woman on the team, the one who has grown to be a real person in the narrative and one who is now LITERALLY IMPORTANT TO THE STRUCTURE OF THE WHOLE WORLD AND THE UNIVERSE? She became the leader of the Avengers and expanded their reach across galaxies by communicating and coordinating with Rocket, Nebula, and Carol. She had a world to rebuild by coming home. It’s not like they’re going to give Clint his own redemption movie where he makes up for his half assed arc to becoming his Ronin character arc. I’m half okay with it, but I also think it was the completely wrong choice of which character to sacrifice.

THOR. The insult to Taika Waititi. The insult to Thor, Thor: the Dark World, and Thor: Ragnarok. The insult to Thor the character. Hell, the reversal on Thor -2.0 from Infinity War. Years of movies, years of work building this character. Them saying that not only does Thor, who finally learned to be the God of Thunder without his hammer, who took up Odin’s role and finally accepted his place as King, needed to be.... fixed?!?!?! They gave him back his eye for starters which reverses the whole meaning of him losing it in the first place. Of assuming the role of Odin, of King, of being Thor. Then they give him the axe and then the HAMMER. Thor moved on. Thor accepted himself. Thor in Ragnarok is proven to be stronger without the hammer than he was with it. Giving him the axe, making him obsessed with getting his hammer back, reverses three movie of character development. AND THEN. Making him FAT. Making him STUPID. Making him threaten children, abandon his people, abandon his duty, fall into a depression completely unlike his character who is a hardened warrior with deep emotional depth and understanding – a fucking soft hearted genius in his own right who was able to easily give forgiveness to Gamora and understanding that being the daughter of an abusive monster isn’t her fault. They have the audacity to spend a whole movie making fat jokes about him and decide to reverse him back ten year’s worth of character development. Oh hardy har, we’re such good writers. We understand posttraumatic stress and the mindset of heroes – look he’s drinking beer, and an alcoholic, and eat a salad you fat fucks. WTF. It wasn’t funny. It was mean. It was unnecessary. It was out of character like the Russos came up with it high on crack and refused to let it go. Thank god Chris H is a good enough actor not to show how insulting it must have been to have his character be paraded around in bad cgi and treated like he’s an idiot. Did the Russos not watch the other movies in the canon? Did they not care that Thor had become this deeply complex character who loved his people, would do anything for them, was ready to be King and lead – NO I guess they just don’t care. Like everyone who sat on their asses during the battle in Wakanda. It would have been amazing for Thor to have gone back in time to see his mother as the true and worthy King at last, if his final arc had been around idk his apprehension at how to lead his people after failing them, after them dying down to a few hundred. Having everything he could have been overshadowed by the Russos need for a running joke the entire movie is so very insulting. It shows just how little they think of the audience’s intelligence.

CAPTAIN AMERICA. The insult to women’s agency. I truly at this point think the Russos are lying fucks who have no respect for women. They’re sexists assholes. The insult to the entire team of Agent Carter. The insult to Peggy fucking Carter, the most badass woman who built herself up, who built Shield, who moved on, who had a life, a husband, children, who died in peace and was put to rest. Nope. Forget about everything she did. The Russos plot line is more important. Steve Rogers started out the movie saying how important it was to move on, and what does he do? Not move on. Lets highlight the insult that throwing in “the first gay character” is when facing the cowardice of switching Steve Rogers from being so obsessed with protecting Bucky Barnes that he threw away the shield, became a fugitive, and left the family and team he’d built in the future to chase after Peggy Carter who he HAD MOVED ON FROM. He kissed that one random blonde girl he had no chemistry with. He said goodbye and buried Peggy. Peggy had a life, she was happy. Did she miss Steve? Was she sad he “died”? Yeah. But now she doesn’t get a choice between the future she could have had and the one where Steve buts in and I guess Bruce didn’t have a discussion with Steve about splitting the path of time into multiple realities cause the Russos decided to fuck their own established logic and leave Steve in a new version of the past – where almost all the infinity stones are returned in their non-original forms, loki is fucking off with the tesseract and Thanos/his entire army/and Gamora are all in the wrong time never to forge the original war in the first place? They didn’t put a single scene between Steve and Bucky reconciling the past few years, Bucky’s dusting or the fact Steve was gonna go and never come back after ALL THAT. After Winter Soldier and Civil War, Steve said fuck Bucky, fuck the avengers, fuck this future that doesn’t have Iron Man, I want to go dance with a woman who HAD A LIFE WITHOUT YOU YOU ASSHOLE. I was touched by the old man Steve returning to give Sam the shield. I thought it was wonderful, I cried a little. But what about Peggy? What about the timeline? What about the rules????? Fuck it, there’s a gay character now and Thor is fat, the rules don’t matter anymore I guess.

Tony Stark.... deserved better. He is the true, real hero. The only hero. I don’t care about anyone else. Excluding his own 3 movies and Homecoming, Tony’s character was done so wrong in the Avengers movies by the writers, the audience and the other characters. So many people wrote him off as the person he pretended to be instead of the person he was. They saw selfishness and ego instead of the amount of sacrifice, the effort he gave into making the world a better place. He was such a good person. He grew so much. He gave his life for a world that never loved him, but that he never stopped loving. Natasha and Tony were the only people with something left to lose, but they were the ones who sacrificed themselves for a cold, uncaring universe and they deserved better. Tony finally had everything he never thought he would deserve – a wife, a daughter, a peaceful life at rest. All his wars were finished. He had everything to lose and he went into the endgame with the one condition that he would not give up what he had gained. And still they killed him. It was the only acceptable death for a hero like Tony Stark, but that doesn’t mean he deserved it. That doesn’t mean his daughter grows up without her father. That doesn’t mean its okay for that abusive, negligent asshole that was Howard Stark to get a last hoorah and be “redeemed” by a final conversation with his son. No. Tony had multiple arc, multiple points in his life where he had to rise above Howard and all that Howard stood for, all the ways Howard had hurt him and held him back. He was better than his father – going to be a better father than his father. Thanos and Howard will never, ever be men who should be looked upon as having loved their children enough for them to die in exchange for the greater good. It was so very satisfying for Tony to finally have it out at Steve for everything and I wish that scene had been longer. Tony deserved to live.

Final points. The timeline stuff, again, was bs. They insisted on not messing it up and still they messed up everything. The greater implications of all that is... astoundingly idiotic. Along with, why not just have Tony’s life ending snap send Thanos right back to the past along with the infinity stones to their rightful places and memories erased? If the infinity stones can do anything, such as kill half the universe, why not correct the flaws of the plot? I thought it was stupid that the only reason the time heist failed was because Nebula didn’t think about mind melding with her past self. The fact that’s even a thing... that happened. Really. The whole movie shouldn’t have existed let alone be three hours. They set such a great tone with the opening scene. It was tragic and heart wrenching and then seeing Natasha finally realized and the world broken. I can forgive dues-rat-machina bring Scott back cause I love Scott, but the time heist threw out all the tension. I didn’t feel the stakes, I felt like they stepped sideways into a whole different genre. That middle plot didn’t feel like a movie worth ending an era on. It felt cheesy and underdeveloped. Again – they had forever to plan. There was no time limit pushing them to go to the past immediately. They could have taken the time to think this out, cover every possible option – and they did. They’re shown doing that. So how, for the second time in these two movies, do these brilliant geniuses, tacticians and strategists believably fail to predict the outcome. And uhhhhhh did snapping all those people back account for the post snap casualties? Cause we saw helicopters flying into buildings, cars crashing, we were told that wars broke out and people went kinda crazy as they had a right to. The snap resulted in post snap causalities by the billions across the universe – had to have. So did all those people come back? What happens to the people who moved on and now have a 5 years younger mother/father/sister/brother/friend/loved one/wife/husband/etc to deal with who just blinked and suddenly half the people they care about are now five years older and the whole world is different? The sheer amount of housing and food crises that are about to begin post “snap 2: the snappening” are insane. And I get that its no fun to think about that in the fun of a big super hero battle and all that. But next movie will probably have zero mention of all that as shown by Peter’s entire class just moseying along on a European vacation in the next Spiderman. So Peter’s entire class got snapped, came back, and went on with their lives? The rest of the world’s infrastructure repaired itself in the time frame of Peter still being in High School? Yeah, right. But still – the fact that there’s an hour and a half of the movie that pauses all the tension and drama to be a comedy is just... whatever fine. It was funny. It was kinda cool, but it didn’t belong and it wasn’t necessary. Ok, I think I’m done.

#Avengers #Marvel #endgame spoilers #avengers endgame spoilers #avengers endgame #tony stark #natasha romanoff #thor #language warning #I say a lot of bad words and unkind things kiddo #you've been warned #Its been a few days and I'm still filled with rage #I did like a lot of parts of the movie #but I also hated a lot of the movie

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