#leave im going to attack you with wasps | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

Visit Blog

Explore Tumblr blogs with no restrictions, modern design and the best experience.

Fun Fact

Tumblr.com rank in the US is 25.

#leave im going to attack you with wasps

drinkin-cherryschnapps · 7 months

Text

average day on wof tumblr

🍃 weedwing follow

as a leafwing, i dont get why we still have pro-wasp hivewings on here :/

like no one wants u here just leave

🐝 phatstinger69 follow

bruh… cant believe ur still blaming hivewings 4 the tree wars… its been like yrs…js get ovr it alr

🌚 stalkerdark follow

i dont usually get involved in pantala discourse, but what prev jus said is seriously fucked up. thats like telling sandwings to get over the war of sandwing succession. i completely agree w u op.

🐝 phatstinger69 follow

u cant be talking nightwing ass. i bet if i brought up the nightwing takeovr of the rainwing rainforests u’d be pissy fr. go jump ina volcano

🍂claylover1746

god yall wasp defenders rlly die on the weirdest hills. op wasnt saying that all hivewings are responsible for the tree wars and near genocide of the leafwings. nor are all hivewings responsible for the systemic oppression of silkwings. op is saying (albeit a bit aggressively) that hivewings who actively support queen wasp and think she should be queen are problematic.

🐝 phatstinger69 follow

💀 ok flathead. shoulda known the mudwings would come aftr me asp. yall r weak frfr. cant even handle the truth

🍂 claylover1746

aaaand ur blocked.

(for those of you who don’t know, fl*the*d is a slur for mudwings. i have a link in my pinned post to a good article abt it)

#op im so sorry you got attacked by a pro-wasper #i totally agree w u tho #mudwing #anti-wasp #tw: f slur

#unreality #wof #wings of fire

14 notes · View notes

justsomeoneintoomanyfandoms · 6 months

Note

hihihi could i get a demon slayer matchupppppo, i go by she/her btw:))))))))

I have reddish brown wavy thick hair and brown eyes i usually leave my hair down but i sometimes put it in braids or pigtails , im 5'1, and have a pear body type im a female and bisexual (male preference)

My hobbies are likeee, working out, playing electric guitar, kickboxing, buying dumb shit that i dont need, baking(especially for loved ones)and i have a few other hobbies

For my personality im an istp and an aquarius if those count for anything, its hard for me to describe my own personality but some people dont get my sense of humor often and i come off as mean. Another thing that makes me come off as rude or mean is my social anxiety in public so i dont say much and i have a resting bitch face not even on purpose. I dont consider myself mean, like i genuinely love making people happy and helping them with things but my social anxiety holds me back on trying to help people and complimenting them .I only have a small group of friends that i talk to but i love them so much. I can be antisocial sometimes because being social all the time drains me, . Though when im with my friends and im really energetic, impulsive, dramatic, opinionated, sarcastic and a little annoying and talk a lot n i always wanna do things+a risk taker i get myself in trouble a lot. I hate it when i go over to peoples houses and they js sit on their phone like wtf did i even come here for ??

Some things i love are animals,doing new things, flowers, nature, horror, the color pink, anything pretty really, motorcycles, pinterest, music(especially metal or rock), incense, smoothie bowls, my friends, plushies, dressing up, halloween,long walks and a lot of other thingsssssss

Some stuff i hate are cheaters, home wreckers, talking to new people, feeling nauseous from panic attacks, fatigue, and wasps.

People tend to see me as less emotional which is true sometimes but when i love i really love hard and i dont get with just anyone and it takes me a while to fall for someone and people don't expect it from me, im so different and emotional when i love somebody and i usually just end up being manipulated, and i dont give up on people easily i try my hardest to empathize with them and work it out.

Another toxic thing is i can be overprotective and possessive in relationships a bit😭

i love love gift giving and physical touch both giving and receiving and i like making my partner handmade gifts that take a lot of effort to show i care though i also like spending money on them

I find it cute when the person im with gets overly jealous but i would never purposely wanna make them feel that way, i know how it feels and they don't deserve that. I hate it when people make me jealous on purpose because they "like it". i love being pampered but ill never ask for it

the littlest thing a person i love would do for me makes me so happyyyyyyyy

(im sorry how fucking long this is whenever i start typing things i cant stop)

Hi! Thank you for your request! Sorry it took so long. I hope you like your matchup!

In Demon Slayer, I match you with...

Tanjiro is the best person for you to be around with your social anxiety. He’s a nice calm person and knows how to make people feel at ease.

Very good with physical touch as well. He’ll happily give you as many hugs as you want. I see Tanjiro as someone who likes physical affection as well so it’s a win-win for him.

Will get rid of wasps for you. He travels in nature a lot so he’s used to getting rid of bugs and assorted insects and feels that it’s the least he can do for you.

Please work out with him. Tanjiro’s shockingly strong and will always encourage you to do your best so you’ll get a good workout.

No need to worry about Tanjiro betraying your trust by doing anything like cheating. The thought has never even crossed his mind. He loves with his whole heart and would rather fight every demon at once than purposefully hurt those he cares about.

#writing #fanfic #matchup #matchup request #request #demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #tanjiro kamado

2 notes · View notes

mikasa-imadebiscults · 6 months

Note

i accidentally submitted the first one in the middle of writing it😟😟but can i please get a jjk and demon slayer matchup if thats too much just jjk, btw i go by she/her<333333

My hobbies are likeee, working out, playing electric guitar, kickboxing, buying dumb shit that i dont need, baking(especially for loved ones)and i have a few other hobbies

Some stuff i hate are cheaters, home wreckers, talking to new people, feeling nauseous from panic attacks, fatigue, and wasps.

Another toxic thing is i can be overprotective and possessive in relationships a bit😭

i love love gift giving and physical touch both giving and receiving and i like making my partner handmade gifts that take a lot of effort to show i care though i also like spending money on them

the littlest thing a person i love would do for me makes me so happyyyyyyyy

(im sorry how fucking long this is whenever i start typing things i cant stop)

(HELLO, I’M SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG TO COMPLETE. PROCRASTINATION WAS ON MY ASS!! I hope you enjoy this!)

I match you with..

Gojo Satoru

- When he first meets you he’s the one that made the first move.

- Because Gojo is Gojo, he’ll tease you about your fear of wasps. You’ll be walking with him outside and he’ll suddenly be like “OH THERE’S A WASP-”

- He likes your homemade gifts and keeps every last one of them. He always has the biggest smile on his face whenever you give him anything.

- Speaking of gifts, he loves to gift you small things like flowers, your favorite snacks, etc.

- He pampered you before, but when he found out that you love being pampered he’ll spoil you more often.

- If you get sarcastic with him he’ll do the same, sticking his tongue out whenever you give him a jokingly mad glare.

- When he walks by you he likes to flick you on the forehead then smile at you.

- When the two of you are walking he almost always has an arm around you.

- On Halloween (or more like the month of October) he loves to try and scare you out of nowhere.

- He likes to listen to you play the instruments you love, always cheers you on.

- Believes that your protective side is adorable and will most definitely tease you.

Kyojuro Rengoku

- When you’re first talking to him, he figures out quickly that you don’t really like talking to new people so he always makes sure you’re comfortable.

- He admires that you don’t give up on others easily and that you love to make others happy. He tries to help you with your social anxiety the best he can. If you’re feeling anxious he’ll grab your hand and will squeeze it firmly.

- Whenever you’re feeling nauseous from panic attacks he’ll be there to comfort you. He would get you a cold drink and do whatever you want him to do.

- He thinks that your sense of humor is unique and encourages you to continue making people laugh.

- He absolutely loves your homemade gifts, he thinks it’s very very thoughtful of you to take the time to make something handmade.

- Whenever you two are out in a restaurant he always pulls out your chair for you with a smile on his face.

- He helps you stay motivated to work out and gives you some tips to help some of the soreness.

- He loves to pull you into his chest while you’re cuddling with him.

- When it’s a day off for the both of you, you two will bake together. He always insists on helping you clean afterwards.

Masterlist

#jjk matchups #jjk x reader #jjk x y/n #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #gojo x y/n #kny matchups #kny x reader #kny x y/n #rengoku kyojuro #rengoku x reader #rengoku x y/n

3 notes · View notes

ex-vespidae · 10 months

Text

sectranza beauty and the beast au,

have i posted about this before idk. I've definitely thought about it before though anyways

I haven't seen beauty and the beast for like years upon years but i think i know the basic plot

- Taranza before the curse works as Sectonia's main assistant and best (read only) friend, they have a small mutual crush on each other but it doesn't go further than that because they are both so far in denial that it would ever work out

- Around the time the curse happens Taranza is out of the house doing chores somewhere? Maybe visiting some of his friends in the village? But then the curse happens and he forgets about his job and Sectonia overall....

He goes to Dedede for help (I guess he's like the village mayor in this au or something), he and dedede remember that he had a job but they just cannot remember what it was at all (...because magic) so Dedede lets him stay somewhere and probably gives him a job at the local library or something...

- On the other hand, Sectonia gets cursed by something..? ( I don't really have a clear idea for this part? It would probably have something to do with her vanity ig? not sure how it would go since pre-corruption Sectonia isn't really a horrible person...)

Anyways idea is Sectonia gets cursed into wasp form which is obviously bad and horrible for her since she is forced into this situation. Also, nothing feels right anymore, she feels too big, too heavy, she can't fly even if she has wings as a wasp, because she doesn't know how. She's basically freaking out big time. ( Not sure how the house curse would work, maybe all the servants are turned into big insects instead of furniture and stuff? )

So yeah that happened.

- People from the village start looking into the random big house that they don't remember being there at all and of course are scared of the big wasp lady thats just living there (who is by the way not mentally well since all her servants avoid her, leaving her isolated, and isolation does not do well for the mental health.)

- Main idea is that Dedede gets kidnapped and Taranza, who feels he owes Dedede a debt for all he's done for him, goes to get him back. This leads him to the house and consequently to Sectonia, who at this rate is probably angry and bitter etc etc. from loneliness and you know being cursed into a big wasp...

Honestly, I think it would put more angst if Taranza actually sees Sectonia as a monster when he first gets there, like he has a weapon of some sort and attacks Sectonia with it because I mean, I probably would too if there were rumors of monsters living in a house and said monster was real. (Plus if there's a scene where Sectonia is like "Taranza...?" and then he just hits her and then she feels betrayed and gets mad and runs after him its so aaaaaaaaaaaaAAAAA)

Same thing plays out as the original Taranza gives up himself for Dedede's freedom and gets stuck in the house, except there's another motive behind it, the house and Sectonia herself feel... familiar to him, he doesn't know why but he thinks that his missing memories are linked to this place....

And then blah blah blah romance stuff blah blah blah Taranza gets closer with Sectonia again and makes her believe that maybe even if she is seen as a monster she doesn't need to play into that role.

Scene where Taranza discovers Sectonia playing music on some instrument ig, he's intrigued since he also plays music in his free time, they play together and its cute and they play a song from before the curse and Taranza feels like he knows it before and they play it very well together first try because it links back to before the curse and they still remember it together and its cute and happy and incredible.

And that's all I got rn, I know there's more in the movie and stuff but im not sure how to incorporate it because

1) I don't remember the movie- I remember that there's a flower or something?

2) not sure who the other characters would even be. like who. Who is Gaston, tbh you probably don't need anyone to play him as much as you just need the village to hate the person in the beast role... (Once again I haven't seen the movie in YEARS like actual years I probably watched it once as a child.)

EDIT : I FORGOT TO MENTION EVERYONE IN THIS AU WOULD BE HUMAN EXCEPT SECTONIA WHEN SHE GETS CURSED... for obvious reasons cause i don't think 1 humanoid wasp would get the "ooo scary monster" reaction from a town composed of other strange creatures

#sage speaks #kirby posting #blorbo posting #long post #is got a read more but still #sectaranza #thats the only tag this is getting this is not getting main tagged #its so long im so so sorrry #this is also pure cringe yikes #also i don't remember the movie well but i had the idea and i went crazy #eeee uh yeah bye bye #muted this because i think i blacked out and wrote half of this #eeeeaaaa

5 notes · View notes

chikaoofka · 2 years

Note

GRABS AND SHAKES YOU VIOLENTLY /pos 🖋🖋🖋

noooo dont grab ans shake me youreso meaaaaaan the meanest anon you are

^- silly

you rolled 2 ones .... would HATE to have that luck i feel like me or my characters would end up permakilled in a ditch somewhere . but alas. you rolled dia !

i dont know where to start nor how cohesive to make this but like i shrug i shrug. cut because it might be kinda long? didnt realise i could do that? lmao?

i might as well start with "silly" "little" things like how she's always my "REALLY GOOD FIGHTER" character? pretty sure that started with how she was a "hunter" in lobcorp originally but regardless. something something i'm not actually sure if you know/like project moon i might kinda go more generally actually.

....which is unfortunate because she's kinda very much so a project moon character? she's so underdeveloped in Every Other Universe but alas. uh. hmm. or like? she's only got reasons to be angry in the City? ? ? whatever

She's actually like one of my MAIN MAIN ocs? yet I'm sitting here, mind-blank, kinda unsure how to describe her ???? I feel it's kinda cliché or something to say but she's like... big angry protector person. for mostly entirely her Friends .She Does Not Care About Anyone Else. She's always had a need 2 protect [her friends] 'cuz something something she's probably constantly afraid she'll lose them somehow if they like dont arent protected by HER specificlally . she probably has trust issues or something. she probably has a lot of issues actually, also. she would do anything (<- within some reason) 2 make sure theyre all ok at all times. which is funny ithink? yeah? yeah

the main reason she's all super angry is actually because of one guy, "Timothy" or whateve.r . although like i never ever draw him i kinda hate his design i really need to redo it . but still its so funny? this is the guy? the guy who made her so like fucked up and vitriolic.? damn. damn he's so pathetic. i could bully him and immeidately die,

some other miscellaneous fun facts because now im kinda bummed out and i just remembered half of these .

she hates things that are taller than her. she is 6'7 . if you are taller than her by any substantial amount she will attack you and maul you leave you unrecognisable call you john doe when shes done with you .

if she was in invader zim she would be a sir unit thank you

shes british

she has a hat in lor.this is really really really important

its......wasp..........its thematically appropriate..................... heheheheh ehehehehehhe wasp

#ok thats it thats it . im tired im tired will sleep will continue tomorrow . thank you #<- general thing 4 oc asks or whatever #4 THE oc asks #to CLARIFY .#dia mode #ask #anon

3 notes · View notes

lonespektr · 2 years

Text

Oct 8th Day 22 Await Further instructions

Just racism right now 🤨🤨🤨🤨 which is as I have said the most horrific of all

Oh okay that was just to establish why he ain't been home

Be the change white boy

Drop that family

They did try to leave Hella early

They clearly got drugged and now some alien done metaled up the exits

The neighbors will hear.....

That you need help?

peak wasp

He just insulted everybody and himself

Reality show - correct answer

Celebrity show - airhead

The authorities -

She's observant though - clocks

Promote ORDER

Terrorism

They sit sis next to king racist?

Duty, this father is a Lil too archypical

Lol first lie

Also they are clearly observing

You know

Canned food?

Another... There's two health care workers bleach body scrub isn't..

They don't have a fucking tub?

Downstairs for what?

As soon as they make amends they introduced another variable

Just random insane back of needles unsealed no fake govt tag

Lol they decided to at least sterilize them

The guy literally looked like he did it IV and the other guy did IM

They didn't even ask about pregnant under 5 years over idk 75 years allergies

This is just the will people submit to unknown authority sociological experiment

I hoped they were smart enough to pretend to take it

That's the first time the TV acknowledged it can see what's going on instead of just a best guess

Acceptable loss

Now there is a default hierarchy struggle

Because there has to be "a person" "in charge"

They literally attacking each other

Mom is DOING THE WHITE WOMAN WASP WORK

Ignore

Downplay

Placate

Calm

Diffuse

Distract

Avoid fighting at all costs

Omg it's not amazing IT'S CREEPY

I never forget

She's really insecure about her intelligence. I never understand why people like that don't just like.. learn more?

I SEE YOU

One drink

I'm going to work on the study

(this is my dad when his kids are hurt he can't deal and he leaves the room)

So they have accepted they can hear them but Not That's its clearly NOT the government or they just don't care anymore because they have already submitted to that authority

How she get sepsis that fucking quick?

peak WASP go clean the house

Well dad might actually be making himself useful... Maybe

Holes in the house

The issue is that these characters are just a bit overplayed

Things can spiral without them being crazy

Is he planning to kill the kid?

Let's try logic. You bloodied his nose and taped his mouth those are the ONLY TWO breathing orafices if memory serves

Extract information from sleeper agent

Box cutting your kid

Now an eyeball

Whoop Katy Kate n bb

Not looking at the information is peak 2019 political climate idiocracy disinformation era

The facts are there and I will shut my eyes and slap them out of your hand

WHOOOO mama lost it the wasp crumbles on the death of one child

Here come the gas

Whoa shit it's like uh napalm burns on contact then explodes

His whole family just died (mom)

Sneks

So camera metal walls

Burning gas

Earthquake

Now religious angle

Curious they went with the your TV is the cause of disinformation not the internet

That angles it at main stream media plus the older white generations on racism

That's squarely fox news is making your old white family members crazy or what's UK? Murdoch owned sky? fox

And you too unless

Kill crazed older generation before they kill you

The young brown intelligent will kill the old whites

The TV will literally kill you?

So many possible metaphors to one scene

Technomancy

Lol but clamation

OK now it's

Your old white man is literally a puppet of your tv

Now the join me

Young white man join the hate like your father and be an abuser

Or fuck a hot smart brown chick and don't be a racist loser

Plug into the TV and do what it says until you die

Raise your baby on hate

Nicely done

And the pan out for the global invasion

Nice work slow clap

#spooky 22 watch #await further instructions

1 note · View note

gallusrostromegalus · 4 years

Note

can you please tell me how you deal with pests in the garden because your plants look soooo healthy and beautifuk. i started gardening this year for the first time (excessively, due to boredome because of quarantine) and i have an amphid INFESTATION that i can't seem to get rid of😩

Ok but you may not like the answer.

These funky lil dudes:

North American Yellowjackets is a common name refering to two genera of Hornets, Vespula and Dolichovespula, and these Neon Flying Babes are THE MOST voracious predators of catepillars, aphids, beetle larvae, and other bugs that like to chow on crops and flowers. There’s an annually reoccuring nest on my house (last year it was 30 ft over the front door, this year I think they’re under the porch) and that hungry-ass colony LOVES my garden and there’s usually a dozen hunting in it during daylight hours.

100% plant-safe, organic, nature-based and highly effective pest control.

Contrary to popular belief, they aren’t aggressive- I can water, weed and harvest with them around and they don’t give a shit about me. The undeserved rap comes from the unfortunate circumstance of:

1. Yellowjackets are sensitive to the color Yellow it looks like other yellowjackets, and Yellowjackets love hanging out with thier buddies and fucking up rival wasps.

2. Yellowjackets are freaked out by sudden motions, like plants waving in windy conditions or humans waving arms in a panic

3. Yellowjackets release a pungent odor when crushed that causes every other yellow jacket in the are to FREAK because under normal circumstances, a crushed friend means HIVE IS UNDER ATTACK RED ALERT IT’S A FUCKIN BEAR GO GO GO!!

4. Yellowjackets fuckin’ love cooked chicken. the smell of a bucket of KFC will summon every yellowjacket for half a mile around, instigating a hornet turf war, and when some kid inevitably panics and smashes a wasp, they go from Hype to KILL A BITCH and then someone gets stung in the eyeball.

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

But as long as you move slowly and aren’t eating a chicken sandwich? they don’t notice you. Wasp has other, caterpillar-related prioroities.

Oh and to keep up with the really teeny pest like mites, treehoppers, microisopods etc, I also encouraged a shitload of these to hang out:

This is the Bold Jumper, the big jumping spider you might see around, which has bonkers good vision and can even see the moon about as well as we can. They’re harmless and adorable and my only complaint about them is that sometimes they want to hand out on my arm and not leave and I’m always worried Im gonna hurt them trying to budge them off.

#the garden of earthly HOA violations #spiders #insects #wasps #bur-ning-skies

3K notes · View notes

skybristle · 2 years

Text

i KNOW this is a cookey run blog. but also. it's My blog and i do whatever i want all of the time actually. i'm still into cr pls don't unfollow me this just has my brain in a chokehold for the night SO!!! my original story!! its kinda bare-bones as im still figuring it out but DO ASK QUESTIONS ABT IT PRETTY PLEASE i need to expand on the world once again below the cut just because it's REALLY LONG.

theres this kingdom with a name i havent figured out yet BUT. obviously being monarch is framed as the best position, something so deeply important, you have so, so much power. so when kyra's parents perish [for. Some reason? once again this is a massive wip] she takes the crown and,,, begins feeling a presence in the back of her mind. slowly,,, she feels it creeping deeper. at first she believes it's the thing guiding all monarchs, vaguely talked about but kept deeply secret to those outside the highest circles. nobody rlly knows what it is or the extent of it,,, but whatever it is kyra hates it. she watches in horror as her mouth says things she didn't think of, it's presence becomes overbearing, her hands move without her calling, and she desprately fights it off. she comes to calling it the Mind. think like,,, queen wasp and the breath of evil type deal kinda but before she becomes a complete vessel to it. kyra's resistance angers the Mind. no heir is this fiesty. spoiled brat. too much will to break. if kyra won't settle down, best to attack at the root of her power. the court. there's a guild of mercenaries who work for the crown, and are as established as if they were the army itself. it's run by a pair of lovers, who suddenly start casting their council votes into tyrannical overbearing things, distance themselves, and eventually lose their minds completely and bring the blade on themselves, leaving their sole heir to take up the family business. cairn. and cairn, always the sharpest and most cunning, sees this for what it is. a murder. and they won't rest until they find their killer. putting the family business in the hands of their sole friend, they set off. the mysterious, fox-masked mouse stalks the trail of this mind illness and all things point to the source being the queen herself. cairn doesn't know why kyra would want her best force dead, but what matters is she did it. so they break into the royal quarters, murder on their mind,,, only to find the queen, sobbing and lamenting over losing herself to the Mind, not wanting to become a shell for this fucked up force. staring into a broken mirror. cairn feels deep sympathy, but also, now they have a lead to the true culprit. and they offer as such to kyra. they find the source of the Mind, and eradicate it, securing cairn's revenge and kyra's freedom. kyra doesn't hesitate for a moment, even if she fears cairn could become the next victim. THIS IS WHERE MY SOLID IDEAS END. cairn IS immune to the Mind, i haven't decided how exactly because IDK WHAT THE MIND REALLY IS YET??? the idea im running with rn is the Mind needs to see the eyes of the victim, and cairn's mask prevents that. or they're just built different idk. they go on a quest to find the core of the Mind and kill it, teaming up for convience alone but,,, they get along very well. and. oops! sapphics!!!!!!!!!!!!! LOVE WIN. other misc notes i couldn't fit in: kyra is very tall and regal, peircing gaze and robs and silver hair. all people have animal traits in this world, and i'm still deciding on making the royal family snow owls OR snow leopards. idk yet HFSDKLFDSJ CAIRN is smol but agile, with knives and shit probably. they wear reds with spotted black and white koi patterns and are never seen without their signature fox mask, even in sleep. they are also based off a mouse, but not a specific species [to add to their mystery factor lol] SORRY if this isn't interesting lol but if you like it PLEASEEE send asks abt it i will cry.

#sky rambles #oc #original character #original story

8 notes · View notes

tsarisfanfiction · 3 years

Text

Night Out

Fandom: Thunderbirds Rating: Teen Genre: Family Characters: Gordon, Scott

#fluffember day 18 - ‘touch’ - and something a little different, mostly because @janetm74 decided to call me out about whacking ‘unsuspecting characters’ with a chair of ‘pain and suffering’ and @gumnut-logic mentioned literally hitting them with a chair... I promise this is mostly fluff still! That Teen rating (Teen for a fluff fic? Tsari what are you doing?) is for language and alcohol, because we have two former military boys in a London pub.

Gordon learnt two things that night: Scott was an affectionate drunk, and sometimes people throw bar stools for no good reason.

Gordon couldn’t recall the last time he’d gone out with Scott – just Scott – for a reason that wasn’t mission related. He’d hit the town with Alan (not that alcohol was allowed on those occasions, what with the kid being underage and all that) a few times, and Virgil on more than a few post-mission de-stressors, but Scott was always too busy for frivolous things like having fun.

No more. It had taken some convincing, a lot of wheedling, and the strong-arm combination of Grandma and Virgil, but a blissful forty-eight hours’ downtime was being spent in England, just because they could. The gracious offer of being chauffeured around by Parker – made by her Ladyship, to the man’s apparent disgruntlement – just made the choice all the easier. And what better way to unwind than a nice, rowdy night in the pub?

Karaoke, free-flowing alcohol, and Scott’s communicator firmly confiscated in the Creighton-Ward manor to ensure he didn’t slip back into work habits meant that he was having the time of his life, and Scott seemed to be enjoying himself, too. At least, if the gaggle of girls he’d acquired, flirting with him and being flirted with in kind, was anything to go by, his big brother was definitely enjoying himself for once.

Unwilling to spend the entire night as the wingman, and definitely not interested in finding out if Scott managed to go further than just exchanging some smooth words, Gordon had found himself over by the pool table. He’d spent enough time in pubs – even if he’d been underage for most of it and Scott (probably) didn’t know that – to be able to find entertainment with a group of strangers, so separating from his brother wasn’t much of an issue.

He was good at pool, too. Good enough to quickly work his way through the ranks until he was the champion everyone else paid to play, and all in all he was having a really good time of it. The drinks were good, the company was fantastic, and best of all, he was having a blast. Maybe later he’d drag Scott away from the girls for a game – show the Londoners exactly how good the Tracys were (and hope Scott was inebriated enough not to beat him, because Scott played a mean game sober).

At least, that was the plan. The world liked to mess with plans.

It started with raised voices. Nothing unusual in a pub, especially now it was entering late evening and the alcohol had been flowing for a while. Gordon thought nothing of it, and continued to roast his latest challenger at pool, beaming when the black ball found the pocket. Well-meant congratulations passed between the two of them – they had manners, after all – and Gordon cast around for his next opponent.

Then the tingle ran up his spine, and immediately on its heels came a tap on his shoulder.

“Hey, bro,” the guy – Dennis, Gordon had trounced him two games earlier to much laughter and another pint – started. “Didn’t you come in with that guy?”

There was only one that guy he’d come in with, and combined with his squid sense kicking in, Gordon had a sinking feeling as he turned to look at where he’d left Scott.

Just in time to see a bar stool smash into his head.

Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was just Gordon’s default reaction to seeing someone smash a bar stool over his brother’s head, but his vision went red. The pool cue dropped, but he paid no attention to where it landed, already surging forwards towards where his brother had crumpled to the floor.

Someone was laughing, someone else was screaming, but Gordon had eyes for only two things: his unmoving brother, and the guy still holding the bar stool aloft.

“Hey!” he roared, elbowing gawkers out of the way and slamming into the guy hard enough to make him loose his grip on the stool. It fell to the floor with a crash, thankfully missing Scott, followed by the man himself. Gordon kept his feet, feeling the buzz of alcohol mixing with adrenaline, and placed himself firmly between the aggressor and his brother.

Everyone else backed off; in his periphery Gordon could tell that the three of them – him, Scott and the stool-wielding asshole – were loosely ringed in by the other patrons of the pub, all looking on with varying emotions ranging from astonishment, fear, and bloodlust.

“You with ‘im?” Stool-Bastard spat, pulling himself to his feet with a glower that was supposed to be intimidating. Gordon hadn’t served in WASP to be cowed by a drunkard in a London pub.

“You attack him for a reason?” he shot back, hearing shuffling noises from directly behind him. Good, that sounded like Scott was conscious. The pleasant fuzz of alcohol was gone, leaving him as sharply aware as it was possible to be after however many drinks he’d had, and he tallied everything up as the guy snarled, swaying on the spot but not attacking. Not yet.

Tabs were all paid up; no need to worry about any unpaid drinks. No sign of the bouncers, but that could change any moment and a barfight was not high on Gordon’s list of reasons to get arrested (yes, he had one. No, his brothers didn’t know about it). The nearest exit was… there, by the group of girls Scott had been with.

If Scott was conscious, as he suspected, it wouldn’t take much to get out of there. He just needed to not be attacked the moment he turned his back.

“’E was ‘itting on my girl,” the man snarled. Gordon had many things to say to that, including the fact that Scott – even drunk – had morals and that if the guy didn’t trust his girlfriend around other guys then maybe he should be looking for problems a little closer to home. He said none of them.

He didn’t have to. The girls surged forward, arguing the point for him – good for them, and did he need to take note of their names to hand over to Lady P? – and he took the chance to crouch down and assess Scott’s condition.

His brother had managed to drag himself up onto his elbows, one hand holding his head, and there was a scowl on his face. Blue eyes were dilated and a little unfocused, although how much of that was the alcohol as opposed to the knock, Gordon wasn’t entirely certain.

“You good to stand up?” he asked, gently touching where Scott was holding his head. The dazed blue eyes blinked at him for a second, and his brother grimaced but tried to move. Gordon caught him when he swayed, wedging himself under one arm and dragging Scott’s arm around his neck for support, wrapping a firm arm of his own around his brother’s waist.

Dennis from pool came over, clearly offering help, but Gordon waved him off with a smile that was probably more strained than he’d planned.

“I got him,” he said. “If you want to help, make sure that bastard doesn’t get another hit in.” He didn’t want trouble – this was supposed to be a relaxing downtime, dammit all – he just wanted to get Scott somewhere safe so he could check him over properly. Luckily, the man got the message and moved to stand so that he was blocking Stool-Bastard’s view of them, leaving Gordon to haul his brother out the door.

No-one else stopped him, and with a few stumbles – Scott was heavy, okay? – he got them over to a nearby bench, which Scott sank onto bonelessly. Gordon shot a quick message to Parker to come get them – fun night out was over – before turning his attention to Scott.

“You with me?” he asked, keeping an arm around his shoulders and peering at the shock of brown hair resting on his shoulder. “Scott?”

“M’fcker,” his brother slurred, sounding vaguely annoyed. He didn’t move, though, seemingly content to remain slumped against Gordon’s side and trust him to hold him up. It was just un-Scott-like enough for him to be a little worried, but he had also been drinking and he wasn’t entirely sure how much Scott had had. Nor had he actually ever seen Scott drunk before – at least, not without the buffer of Virgil and/or John to handle him. He vaguely recalled something about him being an affectionate drunk, though, so with any luck that was all that was.

Still, he ran his free hand through gelled hair, gently probing for signs of injury. Scott hissed when he reached the back of his head, where he’d seen the blow land, and Gordon explored the area lightly with his fingers. It didn’t seem like it was a bad knock – certainly not as bad as it could have been, and he was starting to realise it had actually only been a glancing blow rather than the square hit he’d initially thought – but it could definitely do with some ice and painkillers, and he was pretty certain there was a minor concussion in there, too.

No amount of alcohol explained Scott’s suddenly quiet and slightly lethargic attitude, when Gordon knew he’d been laughing and flirting right before the attack. Virgil was going to be so pleased.

“Hey,” he tried again, poking his cheek when he didn’t get an instant response. “Talk to me, Scott. What happened back there?”

Scott groaned at him and buried his face further into his neck in an additional show of drunk and concussed. “D’nno,” he muttered. Gordon felt more than heard the words. “M’fcker came’p ‘hind me ‘nd yelled sommat ‘bouta girl. D’nno what. Then th’bast’d hit me.”

A very small part of Gordon was amused at the filterless language. He knew Scott knew how to cuss – he’d Served, the same as he had – but Big Brother also had a very strong grip on his language around family. To hear what was no doubt a throwback to the Air Force days was quietly satisfying. However, most of Gordon was a combination of furious and worried, in approximately equal measures. Maybe a little more worried than furious, but there was a large part of him that really wanted to show the guy why you never messed with a Tracy.

Fortunately for his PR, Scott needed him here, not embroiled in a fight or spending the night in a lockup, so he swallowed down the rage and pulled his brother a little bit closer.

“Anything hurt except your head?” he asked, brushing his fingers through his hair again. Scott shook his head then groaned.

“’m fine,” he claimed, still not lifting his head from where it was buried in Gordon’s neck. “St’p fussin’.”

“I’ll stop fussing once we’re back at the manor and your head’s been looked at properly,” Gordon countered, to another groan. “How much did you drink?”

“Was’nly weak sh’t,” Scott told him. “Few p’ntsa cid’r.” Enough to get buzzed but not enough to get blindly drunk, then.

A breeze blew past them, reminding Gordon that London was in England and therefore cold. Scott shivered just a bit – not enough to be noticed if he wasn’t plastered against Gordon’s side – and he tightened his grip again. Neither of them were dressed for the night air, not with the original plan being for them to remain inside the pub until Parker arrived, and the thin jacket Gordon did have on wouldn’t fit his brother, even if he could peel him off long enough to shuck it.

“Not the best end to an evening,” he mused instead, rubbing at the denim jacket Scott had on in a vain attempt to give him a little more warmth.

“C’n say thattag’n,” Scott agreed, burrowing into his side even more. Gordon assumed he was trying to leech body heat. “S’posed t’be fun.”

“Well we’ve got all of tomorrow to lounge around the manor,” Gordon reminded him, spying a flash of pink approaching at speed. “You know that’ll be fun.”

“W’th this h’ngov’r?” Scott complained. Gordon winced – he had a point.

“It’ll be fine,” he promised, letting go of his brother with one hand to flag Parker down. “Water and painkillers and you’ll be good as new.” Depending on the severity of the concussion, that might be stretching it a bit. Scott was definitely going to be off duty for more than another day, though.

FAB1 pulled to a stop next to them and Parker jumped out, eyes sharp and alert as he took in their condition.

“Trouble, sirs?”

“Someone took a swing at Scott with a bar stool,” Gordon admitted, prodding his brother. Parker’s eyes narrowed and he suspected Stool-Bastard might find his own brand of trouble later, once Parker was convinced they were safe. The man seemed to have a soft spot for Scott – hell knew he didn’t have one for Gordon, despite his best efforts to the contrary. “C’mon, Scott. Let’s get you in the car.” His brother groaned but at least made a token effort to stand up, freeing Gordon long enough for him to get to his own feet and haul Scott up. Parker slid around to Scott’s other side without waiting to be asked, and between them they helped him stagger into the back seat, where he promptly slumped again. Gordon slid in beside him and was immediately reclaimed as a pillow, which he resisted long enough to make sure they were both strapped in before allowing Scott to bury his head in his neck again.

“’Ow ‘is ‘e?” Parker asked as he slipped back into the driver’s seat and pulled away from the curb. Gordon caught sight of him looking at them in the rear view mirror and offered a tight grin.

“Minor concussion,” he answered, running his hand through Scott’s hair again, to a quiet noise that could have been either complaint or contentment. “He also drunk enough to get buzzed, so I’m not entirely sure how much of this-” he shrugged at the big brother draped against him “-is that.”

“Hmm.” Parker sounded unconvinced, but did at least return his attention to the road.

Gordon glanced down at his brother and poked him lightly.

“You’d better not be falling asleep on me, Scott,” he warned.

“’M n’t,” came the muffled response. “W’k m’up wh’n we g’t therr.”

“Scott, no,” Gordon scolded, shrugging his shoulder and forcibly peeling his brother off of him. “You’re concussed. Don’t sleep.”

The baleful glare he got was pretty pathetic, on the Scott scale, but his brother huffed in defeat.

“F’n,” he grumbled. Gordon caught his head when he attempted to bury it in his neck – again – and guided it to rest normally on his shoulder.

“We’ll have a proper look at the manor,” he promised. “Then you can rest.”

Scott huffed, but didn’t close his eyes again. He did, however, wrap an arm around Gordon in a tight grip, which he returned in kind.

“Are you always this cuddly when you’re drunk?” he asked. The grumble he got wasn’t a coherent answer, but the way Scott purposefully looked away was. Gordon laughed. “That explains why you don’t go out drinking with us much. Do any of the others know this?”

“Shuddup,” Scott grumped. It was a shame he was also concussed, otherwise the blackmail would have been glorious.

Aw, who was he kidding. As soon as Scott came out the other side clear, it was totally acceptable blackmail. For now, though, he was content to hold onto his brother while Parker drove them back to the manor, more than a little relieved it hadn’t been worse.

So much for a relaxing night out with his brother.

#fluffember #thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds are go fanfiction #tsari writes fanfiction #gordon tracy #scott tracy #aloysius parker #thunderfluff

54 notes · View notes

matildashoney · 4 years

Text

Loving You’s the Antidote: Chapter Eleven

MASTERLIST // MOODBOARD // TAG LIST // TAGS // PLAYLIST

TAG LIST: @cock-a-doodely-doo, @ihearthemcallingforyou, @goldenfeelin, @detroitkiwis, @wherearethewatermelons

talk to me about it! feedback is greatly appreciated!

this chapter contains themes of sexual content please read with caution.

author’s note: there are no words to describe what a despicable time this is in the world, right now. i know this is a trying time, and i am posting this chapter early to hopefully give you space from the negativitiy if you want one. take care of yourself. i love you. i’m here for you. i see you. here is a page of links for you to sign petitions, learn, and donate. i encourge everyone to educate themselves. thank you for reading.

Going out was fine in the beginning.

Talia and Mylie were sat in the chairs opposite Amelie, their drinks nursed in their hands, talking about their boyfriends and their lives and their jobs. Her phone is vibrating every so often, likely from Harry, but they’ve already given her flack for not going out with her friends enough – even though she sees her best friend nearly five times a week – and always being attached to his hip when they’re together – which makes sense when he’s out of the country about six months a year – and it’s made her too anxious to excuse herself to check it. Harry would understand when she explained it.

“Can you tell me what you two are staring at or are you just going to keep looking past me like you’ve seen a ghost?”

“Getting a weird vibe from this guy that’s been staring at you all night,” Mylie says, squinting to try and get a better glance at who it was. “Don’t know, maybe I’m seeing things.”

“Anyways,” Talia interrupts, trying to break the underlying tension that is hovering above their table and causing all three girls to draw circles around their glasses, “How’s Harry? You two alright? Haven’t seen him in a while.”

Amelie smiles, her lips tingling with the mixture of tequila and the sensation of Harry’s lips on hers. “Harry and I are good. Love that man, I do.” Her teeth clink against the rim of the glass, taking the rest of the drink smoothly down her throat and standing. “Want another?”

“One for me,” Mylie smiles, sliding her glass towards Amelie. “Want me to come?”

“Not that crowded,” Amelie shrugs, taking a deep breath and gathering all her anxiety into her stomach. “I can do it.”

You can do it. Ask for a drink, wait for it, leave. Two minutes max. You can do this. Harry would be really proud of you for going out and being able to do it. You can do it.

Amelie walks to the wooden bar, slightly less crowded than it had been an hour and a half ago when they arrived, Talia and Mylie’s attention turned towards their own conversation. Her arms lean on the sticky counter as she waits, the bartender walking away to make her drinks, her hand reaching into her pocket to grab her phone and message him back, to tell him that everything was going alright. Amelie’s mind is elsewhere, clouded with tequila and rum and the drink that the bartender made when they walked in.

Until a hand lingers a bit too long on her lower back and a breath hits the back of her neck.

Amelie’s muscles immediately tense, dropping her phone on the counter and her head turning over her shoulder, all of the oxygen knocking out of her lungs at the sight in front of her.

“Look at you,” Jack slurs, his hand brushing the curls hanging over Amelie’s shoulder behind her back. “Get rid of that boyfriend of yours, finally?”

Amelie gulps, shaking her head, her hands reaching for her phone, fingers shaking, her eyes drawing out a path that would take her to her friends and they could leave. Her thumb is too sweaty to swipe across her screen, and every breath that she takes seems to be weighted and never make it into her lungs.

“Doubt that he’d ever leave you alone when you’re out. Always has to ‘ave an eye on you,” he mumbles, drawing his fingertip along her arm, chuckling darkly when she shrugs him away. “Must not be here, then.”

“Leave me alone, Jack,” Amelie spits, her tone echoing the fear that is welling tears in her eyes. Harry’s contact was the first on her screen, a few swipes and there would be a message to get him to her.

He steps impossibly closer, their chests touching, his breath hitting her face. His height is much shorter than she remembers, her fingers tapping anxiously against the bar as her eyes try to make contact with her friends or anyone that could see that the situation was uncomfortable.

And before Amelie could realise what was happening, Jack was leaning in to kiss her, his breath hot on her mouth, her head turning quickly as he grabbed her forearm, his lips hard and rough against her cheek. Her lips parted as she squeaked, her hand pressed against his chest, pushing him away. Her vision fades into flashing stars and her cheeks heat, all of the blood rushing to her head.

He stumbles backwards, fumbling into the security guard. His eyes fade into darkness that Amelie doesn’t recognise and there is this pit in her stomach that is making her want to be sick. Her eyes squeeze shut, trying to picture herself anywhere but where she is, anticipating his hand on her jaw and forcing her to kiss him like he likely would have, until one of the bartenders walks towards her, gently setting her hand on her shoulder and nodding towards the security guard, eyeing the situation.

Amelie is barely able to make out the words that are being said to her, only the thoughts about getting outside, to the fresh air, to the one setting where her lungs could get oxygen and feel full. Talia and Mylie nearly run over to her, grabbing her hands and her phone and bringing her outside, their concerned voices making her head feel like it’s going to implode at any given moment. Her hands are shaking as she messily scrambles to call the only person that would understand her, that would help her.

His phone barely reaches a second ring, his breathing slightly heavy through the receiver. His voice is rasped and worried as if the air was knocked out of his lungs the moment she called.

“Harry?” Amelie hiccups, her throat tight and tears falling down her cheeks.

“Doll, what’s wrong?” Harry whispers, his legs swinging over the edge of their mattress and reaching for the nearest trainers.

“’m out and ‘m scared,” she mutters, her breathing shaky as she walks further away from Mylie and Talia and beneath a light, her phone tight against her cheek, her body pressed against the brick wall. “Need to come home, Harry. I need you. I want to come home.”

“Mon ange, ce qui se passe?”

“’m sorry ‘m calling so late,” she chokes, trying to catch her breath.

“Hey, hey, j'ai besoin que tu respires pour moi,” he soothes, his voice calming and talking her through. His fingers brush through his hair, drying the sweat that gathered there. His voice is tense, hating that he’s not there to talk her through her panic attack, to squeeze her hand and remind her that he’s there because he’s sure that she’s near the point where she might go unconscious because of how heavy she’s breathing. “Don’t have to apologise to me. ‘m always here. Can you tell me where you are?”

“’m at some bar,” she says shakily, drying her eyes and trying to see anything she recognised around her. “Haven’t been to this one before, I don’t think. Mylie and Talia wanted to try it.”

Harry is starting to get nervous. He knows her. He is sure that she wouldn’t have called unless something was really wrong. That’s when he knows. He is sure that he knows what was making her feel uncomfortable, or who rather, and the thought alone makes him livid and his fists grip the duvet.

“Can I come and get you? Would that be that alright?” Harry questions nervously, a quiet hum in agreement all that was needed. He walks downstairs, mumbling that he would be right there, his hands reaching for a sweatshirt to toss over his torso to avoid meeting the bitter air. “Getting in the car, now,” he says, his fingers tugging at his roots and bringing it to a knot on the top of his head, the length becoming a burden with the knots and the strands sticking to his forehead. “’m gon’a stay on the phone until we’re together, alright?”

“Okay.”

And the line goes silent for a minute, Mylie and Talia walking over with their boyfriends and talking to Amelie, yet every thought in her head is spinning and she wishes that Harry would talk more to take her mind away from the feeling of his lips on her cheek and the harsh grasp that he had on her arm. His touch stung, cold and bruising, much like a wasp stinging the centre of someone’s chest. Her breathing is shaky, coming in pants, and Harry’s about to swear at every stoplight that he hits on his way to her.

Twenty minutes is twenty minutes too long.

His thumb drums dramatically against the steering wheel, his eyes scanning over the outside terraces of restaurants and bars and the nightclubs scattered in between. “Can you tell me what happened? Can you tell me why you want to leave?” Harry’s fingertips tap against the screen, using the directions to her location to guide him. Hearing her take a breath; Harry isn’t sure he wants to know the answer, even though that’s what he has to do. “Do you want to wait until we’re together?”

Amelie sucks in a breath. “Had fun at first,” she says very slowly, the alcohol evident in her voice, “and all ‘f us were dancing, drinking. Mylie and I wanted more, and it didn’t look like the line for the bar was too crowded, and it was me that offered to go. Felt someone touch m’ back but didn’t know who. Turned around and it was, you know.” Her voice goes silent. “He leaned in and said something ‘bout you, he smelt like booze,” she whispers. “’m not even sure what happened but ‘e went in to kiss me and I pushed ‘im away. I was really uncomfortable, Harry.” He can hear her start to cry, again. All Harry wants is to be holding Amelie in his arms, comforting her. “That’s not, I just. He isn’t supposed to do that.”

“No,” Harry breathes, trying to subdue his anger. He is furious. Only with Amelie’s luck would Jack be there the one night that she decided to go out without him. Jack was the reason Amelie only went out with Jenny or Harry, to begin with. Harry should’ve been there, with her, protecting her. Guilt rises into his chest, his throat, and he thinks he might be sick. “He isn’t supposed to do that. That’s wrong. This isn’t your fault, you know that, right?”

Amelie nods her head, oblivious to the fact that Harry can’t outright see her.

His chest heaves with a staggered breath as his tires roll to the nearest parking space, the sight of her making him want to collapse. Her eyes are hooded, and her cheeks are puffy. He could only imagine how hard she’s been crying. He can imagine that she’s nearly gone unconscious, by now. “Can see you, baby. I’ll be right there.”

“Okay,” Amelie mutters, ending their call and turning slightly to where the slamming sound was coming from, Harry’s body coming into view as his feet pound against the pavement running towards her.

“Hey,” Harry whispers, immediately wrapping his arms around her head and pulling her into his arms, his lips touching her hair, his hands holding her tightly into him. “Are you alright?” Amelie grips onto his sweatshirt, squeezing her eyes shut and trying to only think about his breathing and his scent and his heartbeat that is beating in her hears with her head against his chest.

“Harry, we didn’t even know it was him,” Mylie rushes over, her hands tucked into her pockets, her heart breaking at the sight. Amelie always appeared so beyond the thing with Jack – not that they really knew what happened other than a messy breakup – but this put everything in an entirely new perspective. “Thought it was someone just watching us because of you two, honestly.”

Harry doesn’t want to blame Amelie’s friends. His frustration, his anger, his guilt, is begging him to blame someone other than himself. “Not your fault.” His hands gently brushing through Amelie’s curls and trying to soothe her. “Have they kicked him out?”

“Think so.”

“I’m going to go in there and talk to someone,” Harry says, his hands gently dropping from around Amelie’s torso and causing her to panic.

“Harry,” Amelie whispers dryly, barely lifting her head from his chest and squeezing his hips, “Harry, no.”

“Alright, alright,” Harry sighs, returning his hands to her hair and kissing her hairline, “you’re okay.” His cheek rests on her head, his eyes meeting the worried eyes of her friends, “Don’t worry, I’ve got her.” He kisses her hair, squeezing her shoulders and whispering, “Can I take you home? Can we go home?”

Amelie nods against his chest, grabbing his hand and interlocking her fingers with his, her body walking one step ahead to make the distance between where she once was. Harry opens the car door for her, kissing her temple and wiping the tears on her cheeks before moving back.

“Can you kiss me?”

“Course,” Harry smiles softly, disheartened by the trepidation in her voice. Her cheek turns to him, a tear wiped by her thumb as he whispers, “On your cheek?”

“Mhm.”

Harry’s heart sinks to his stomach. His lips gently touch her cheek, kissing away a tear that betrays her and falls against his mouth. He kisses her jaw, her cheek, her temple, making his way to her mouth to kiss her deeply, longingly. Her hand grabs his as he’s about to walk around and get into the car, her eyes flicking between his lips and his eyes. He kisses her, giving her reign, allowing her to mould her lips in whichever way she wants against his.

Harry has to take a breath, guilt washing over him in the worst way. He could’ve been there. He knows that she hates going out without him or Jenny. He knows that she doesn’t feel safe that way, that her anxiety is too overwhelming and makes her feel that way. Harry knows that Amelie wanted to prove that she was making progress more so to herself than anyone else, and she would have been so excited to tell him that she went to the bar all by herself and the night went great.

Until it didn’t.

“Have about twenty minutes until we get home,” Harry says, easing onto the street and beginning their journey home. “Glad you called me. Thank you for calling.”

“Had no idea what to do,” Amelie whispers dumbfounded, the alcohol still swirling in her brain. “Kept trying to press on your contact but m’hand was shaking and I couldn’t get it.”

“Hey, hey,” he soothes, kissing her knuckles and squeezing her hand, the volume on the music silent. “Everything’s alright now. I’m here. You’re safe.”

“Did I wake you?” she wonders, wet eyelashes pressed on her cheeks, her lips pursing together as the red tint of her lipstick begins to fade away. “Didn’t mean to.” Her hand reaches for the water settled in the console for her, taking a heavy sip and letting the cool liquid smooth down her throat.

Harry snorts, shaking his head and pressing a hard kiss to her hand. “Didn’t wake me, angel.”

“Oh no.”

His chuckle vibrates his chest, his heart warm as a smile tugs longingly at the corners of her lips. “Don’t think you want to know what I was doing.”

“Well, I mean, now yeah, since you’ve teased it, I want to know. Especially, since now, we’re together at a bright,” Amelie says, staring at the time on her phone and waiting a few seconds for the digits to process in her brain, “two in the morning.”

“Look, sometimes, things get a little, hard, and you have to do some things,” Harry begins, his lips curved in the cheesiest smile, a hard laugh bellowing from his chest as Amelie slips beneath the seatbelt and further into the seat, her hand covering her eyes. “You asked!”

“Oh my god.”

“Thinking of you, if that helps any.”

“No,” she says, biting her bottom lip to suppress a laugh itching at her throat, her cheeks flushed with his confession. “No, Harry, it really doesn’t.” Harry turns to stare at her, quirking his eyebrow suggestively and nodding his head. “Okay, a teensy bit.”

Harry and Amelie talk quietly about nonsense the rest of the way home, trying to distract from the sexual tension and the lingering conversation waiting to be had eventually. Her thighs were held tightly together, her hand and her phone between her legs, his hand holding hers on his thigh and away from the tent in his jeans.

Harry’s hand lingers on Amelie’s lower back as they walk inside, his hands gently holding her hips to make sure that she wouldn’t stumble going to their bedroom upstairs, her knees slightly shaky and her words drawn together as the alcohol begins to wear through her system.

Amelie’s eyes flicker to the alarm on the wall near their bedroom door. Harry nods towards the ensuite, his lips pursed together as her fingertips begin to take her clothes and toss everything into the laundry bin, taking her favourite robe from behind the door and wrapping it tightly around her torso. Harry waits for the three beeps before following her, frowning as she harshly takes a washcloth and begins rubbing at her cheek.

And Harry knows why.

“Baby,” Harry whispers, making eye contact in the mirror before setting his hands on her shoulders, gently rubbing her muscles and kissing her hair. “Gentle with yourself.”

“Can feel it on my skin,” Amelie whispers, her eyes welling with tears at the thought. “Want it to go away.”

“Can I do it? I’ll take it all off.” Harry waits for Amelie to nod, his hands holding her hips and lifting her onto the bathroom counter, her thighs spread slightly for him to stand between. “Love the way you do your makeup, you know. Always makes your eyes so bright.”

His hands gently wipe away the tears and the foundation and the running mascara, revealing her bare cheeks and supple lips and soft eyes, begging to be peppered with kisses. He kisses her cheek, his breathing choking in his throat as he waits to see how her reaction will go. Her cheek leans into his hand, her lips turning to meet his and her hands holding his shoulders, the kisses languid and sloppy and sweet.

“Come on,” Harry breathes, circling his hands around her waist and gently setting her on the ground, walking around her and turning on the water. “Know you better than anyone and the only way for you to avoid a hangover is a shower and a good night’s rest.”

Amelie wonders, hooking the robe near the shower door and stepping under the warm water, her hair wet and clinging to her skin beneath the pour. Her eyes meet his through the glass wall, her arms folding in front of her chest. “Coming in?”

“Don’t know if that’s such a good idea,” Harry sighs, scratching the back of his head. He wanted nothing more than to be in the shower with her, to be touching her – even innocently – and telling her that he loves her. He wants to tell her now more than ever.

“Harry, ‘s just a shower.”

His fingers tuck between his teeth, biting at the skin nervously. He shrugs, nodding and pushing his jeans down his legs and slipping his shirt over his head. “Alright, alright.”

“Not even briefs?” she giggles, her fingertips gently massaging her shampoo into her hair, all of her movements drawn out with the lingering alcohol in her veins.

“Go on,” he laughs, stepping inside the shower, squeezing her shoulders and nudging her to turn under the water, his body slightly stepped to the side, “turn around and let me rinse out your hair. Gon’a got soap in your eyes if you keep opening them to talk to me.”

“Takin’ care ‘f me,” Amelie smirks, wrapping her arms around his torso and pulling him into her, puckering her lips and tilting her head back to inch her lips towards his.

“Always will,” Harry says assuredly, kissing the corner of her lips and gently squeezing out the water in her curls. “Could literally ask me to give you the clothes on my back and you’d have them.” His hands reach for her sponge, gently running the soap and water on the material and coasting it along her skin, kissing her neck and she leans into his touch.

Her voice is quiet, the water running over her skin as his hands gently rub into her shoulders, the muscles that tightened with the anxiety and the panic slowly loosening enough to allow her to have a night’s rest and to reconvene in the morning. His touched her hairline, allowing her to lay against his chest and have the water wash over their connected skin. “Have you seen anyone since we went on, you know.”

“On a break.”

Amelie nods, “That.”

“Haven’t seen anyone but your beautiful face every day,” Harry smiles softly, his thumb dragging along her cheek and his lips pecking her temple, his hands reaching to turn off the water and grab a towel from the rack nearest to them. “You’re it. Always.”

Amelie walks onto the rug first, holding onto Harry’s hand and wrapping the towel tightly around her torso her feet pressing into the fibres to dry and avoid slipping on the damp tile. Her hands reach for his warm sweatshirt on the counter, her hands rummaging around the drawer in their wardrobe for her favourite pair of silk shorts and pulling the material up her thighs.

Her voice is quiet as Harry gets dressed behind her, the cotton briefs clinging to his hips, his hair dried in a towel as she tucks the sweatshirt sleeves over her hands and walks to the bedframe, sorting her side of the bed and opening up the duvet for him to climb into.

“Cosy in that?” Harry asks, turning off the bathroom light and shutting the door, all of the lamps slowly beginning to turn over and the room becoming bright only by the moonlight shining through the thin curtains.

Harry’s fingers are about to shut his light when Amelie whispers, “Dumbest thing I’ve ever done was talk about that break.”

“Didn’t really give you much of a choice,” Harry sighs, turning to look at Amelie and sitting his back against the headboard.

“Have a choice, now,” she says, swinging her thigh over his waist, and straddling him, her fingertips coasting along his chest, her lips peppering kisses from his jaw to his neck.

“Hey,” he whispers, his head tilting slightly to allow her lips to make suckling marks on his neck. Harry was Amelie’s, undoubtedly and unabashedly. “Doll, we shouldn’t.”

“Baby.”

“Don’t want the first time we make love to be when you’re drunk, Ames. Don’t want you to regret that,” Harry gulps, his hands holding her thighs, gripping onto her lightly and feeling her skin under his fingertips.

“Could never regret you,” Amelie confesses, gently bringing her lips to hover over his, hot breaths panted over his mouth. “Kiss me, then. Not a fake kiss. Kiss me like you love me.” Her words are interrupted by hiccups, and Harry couldn’t find her more attractive – freshly showered, holding onto him, kissing him, wanting to profess how she feels; that’s more than he’s gotten in nearly a month. Her eyes meet his with all sincerity. “’ve been, dreamin’ about this.”

Harry’s thumb lightly pulls her bottom lip, “Have you? Missed these lips.”

Amelie kisses his fingertip, “Mhm.”

His fingers brush her hair away from her face, his hands cupping her jaw sweetly and kissing her cheek. “Are you sure?”

Her hands wrap around his wrists, having his hands firm on her face and unable to move. “Mhm.”

“Ames.” His voice is barely above a whisper, mouth inching towards her wet lips, the slight flush of pink on the flesh making his stomach flip with butterflies. His mouth is longing to be on hers.

“Je t’aime,” Amelie says, a smile tugging at her lips as Harry’s eyes move away from her lips and meet her stare, surprise and love overwhelming his emotions and features, “and I want you to kiss me.”

“Je t’aime,” Harry grins, brushing his nose against hers and lightly pressing a kiss to her lips. “Could listen to you say that for the rest of m’life.”

“And you will.”

Harry’s lips crash onto Amelie’s, their mouths messily colliding, their rhythm slowly building from sloppy to sweet, perfect alignment and steady intake of breaths as their tongue taste the lingering mint and tequila that is between their lips. Harry moans into her mouth, soaking in the way her fingers slowly inch into his hair and scratch at the nape of his neck, his hands holding her thighs and her back, their arms tightly around each other, barely giving space for their lungs to intake any oxygen.

Amelie’s kiss is begging for something more, desperate for Harry to take away whatever is lingering in her brain. Maybe it’s the anxiety. Maybe it’s the underlying doubt that they won’t work out a second time around. Maybe it’s the memory of someone else’s lips on her skin that she never wants to feel again. Harry answers it all with his lips on hers, kissing her cheeks and her mouth and her jaw and her cupid’s bow, leaving a bright red mark on the cut of her jaw below her ear and whispering his love for her.

Harry’s kiss is longing, aching for more of Amelie. His hair longed to be tugged by her, his neck marked by her teeth, his skin scratched by her nails, his sensed overwhelmed by her scent. He wanted all of her immersed in him, to be in her skin and knowing her. He wanted to erase the memories of anyone that’s ever hurt that, that’s ever made her feel like she deserves less than every star in the sky. His lips are slightly harder against hers when a tear slips down her cheek, needing her to feel his love deeper than the surface.

Her hand trails down his chest, lingering over where their thighs meet. “Have to give you a cut on tequila, Amelie Fay,” Harry chuckles dryly, gently moving her hand and bringing her fingers back to his hair. “Can’t resist you when you come home when you’re like this.”

“That’s what I love,” Amelie smiles, tucking a stray curl behind his ear. Her lips touch right below his ear, gently marking his skin.

“Fuck,” Harry breathes, gently sliding further into the duvet and bringing the covers over Amelie’s back, tucking their bodies together and his hands settling over the curves of her bum and trailing up her spine.

“Knowing that you have that control shows that you really love me,” she whispers against his skin, gently kissing over his jawline and making her way to the corner of his lips. “That’s good, you know, because, I love you.”

His eyes well with tears. Harry needed Amelie to say that more than he thought. “I love you. God, I love you. Don’t leave me, ever again,” he croaks, his fingers tangling in her hair and gently coaxing her to meet his glossy stare. “Need you, angel.”

“Need you,” Amelie murmurs, her thumbs gently wiping the tears from beneath his eyes. Her heart is thumping so loudly in her chest that it can be heard in her eardrums, a bass drum kicking a new beat. All that she wants is to have Harry’s lips on hers. “I love you. Je t’aime.”

“I love you. I’ll love you to the ends of the Earth. Do you hear me?” Harry breathes, his lips realigning with hers and making a home on the mouth that knows his so perfectly.

Her voice is hushed against his lips, barely breaking apart their kiss and the moonlight fanning over their bodies in the middle of the mattress. His hands are planted on her hips, firm and steady. “Don’t let me go.”

“Never, Ames. I never will.”

Harry can only pray that Amelie will feel the same in the morning.

“Oh mon Dieu. Oh mon Dieu. Oh mon Dieu.”

Harry could hear the panic in her voice. He’s only heard the stress and anxiety in her voice like this a few times, namely when they’re arguing, and there is a twisting in his stomach that is telling him that whatever is going to happen isn’t going to be good. He stirs, slowly prying his eyes open and blinking to focus his vision, the clock on his phone reading 06:28.

They’ve only been asleep for four hours, and Harry knows that Amelie’s had a nightmare that she didn’t wake up from.

Amelie’s hands were covering her face, her hair slightly matted from sweat and his fingers and the way he was tangled in her hair as they kissed. And the way the whole scene is panning out, it’s as if there is no recollection of the night before, her hands running over her body, ensuring that there are clothes covering her skin and the stickiness is only from the closeness of their bodies throughout the night. Amelie reaches to take Harry’s hand away from her hips, her knees pulling to her chest and her fingertips pushing against her temples.

And the panic attack is in action, full force, without a sign of hesitation or hindrance. Harry can see it happening.

“Fuckfuckfuck,” Amelie mumbles under her breath, her heart pounding so hard against her chest that she swears Harry could hear it from beside her. “Harry, I need you to let go of me.”

“’ey,” Harry murmurs, the rasp in his voice coating every word with exhaustion, “tell me why you’re panicking. Can tell me, I’m right here. ‘s only a nightmare, you’re safe.”

“I, I.” Like that, every word in Amelie’s vocabulary is beginning to disappear. All she can see is the balcony and the promise of fresh air and the slight possibility of her heart to quit beating against her ribs in a way that would make it implode and rupture. “Let go, please.”

Harry immediately loosens his grip. He can see her making a mental path to the balcony and his heart falls to the pit of his stomach. He reaches for a pair sweatpants that are strewn on the chair near the vanity, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and yanking them onto his hips. “Jus’ le’ me turn the alarm off. One minute.” Harry walks to the bedroom door, clicking the buttons to turn the alarm to the setting that wouldn’t blare a horn when she opens the door. “Doll.”

Harry’s eyes follow Amelie as she rushes outside, satin shorts on her hips, her knuckles turning white as she holds onto the railing for dear life, as if moving would make the entire world turn upside down and she would be the first to fall. On the corner of the horizon, the sunrise is beginning to show promise of the new day, the dew clinging to her skin and slight breeze of the morning chill hitting her cheeks. Her thighs are covered in goosebumps, but there is nothing she can feel besides the heat of her blood pressure in her cheeks. He rubs his eyes, trying to gather all of his words and thoughts and wake himself enough to at least know why she’s panicking.

“Oh mon Dieu, je t'ai appelé. Je n'aurais pas dû appeler,” she murmurs, her words slurring together in a string of sound. “Qu'est-ce que je fais, bordel?” Heaving breaths, her chest is tight, the overwhelming weight on her lungs suffocating her.

Oh my god, I called you. I shouldn’t have called. What the fuck am I doing?

Harry takes a second to try and grasp what she’s saying. He can’t comprehend what she’s saying that quickly and that jumbled. “Say it again. Slower, please.”

“This is,” she says quietly, pausing to think but every word and thought is scrambled and making her head hurt. “Can’t breathe.”

“Ames,” Harry says calmly, taking a breath and standing beside her against the railing. He is well aware that she doesn’t like to be touched during a panic attack, that’ll it’ll cause her to hide away and never speak, but she has to see him, “slow down. Talk to me. Called me at the bar, last night, remember? Came home with you. Only us, here.”

“Can see everything,” Amelie whimpers, her fingertips curling around her hair, her nails scratching her scalp, her eyes squeezing shut. “Had a nightmare and it wasn’t you touching me. Can’t make it stop.” Harry’s eyes are fixated on her, his body seeming too close even though he is far away. “Don’t want to see it, again.” Her chest is rising and falling rapidly, and Harry is sure that she’ll pass out at any moment if she doesn’t take a breath. He sighs as she turns away, laying her palms flat against the bench that decorated the space beneath the lingering window – the bench that she chose nearly a week after she moved in.

“Know that, baby,” Harry breathes, leaning his back against the balcony and watching her every movement, careful to not overwhelm or scare her. His voice is soft and soothing, all of his words chosen very carefully and particularly. “Want to take it all away from you.”

“But you can’t, Harry,” Amelie says desperately, taking a seat on the bench, her fingertips digging into her knees, her eyes set on the flowers beneath the balcony and in the garden. All of her hope is drained from her voice. “He’s never going to go away.”

“Amelie, that’s not true. Don’t start thinking backwards, now.”

“Do you think I did something to want to be this way? Is that why you said the things you did? Do you think that?” Her voice cracks between sobs, her chest shaking beneath the tears and the unsteady breathing. Her eyes can barely open with how heavy the tears are. “Harry, I don’t know why I’m like this. This wasn’t my choice.”

“Mon ange, écoutez-moi,” Harry whispers, his stomach twisted into knots and a sob lodged in his throat. He should’ve never said the things he did. Never. “Know that this wasn’t your fault, none of it. Have nothing to say for m’self other than ‘m a proper arsehole.” He takes a step forward, their feet barely touching. “Have had a lot of time for reflection and learning over the last month, you know. Understand a lot more, now. Don’t have to forgive me, but I am sorry, Amelie. I’m so sorry.”

Her fingernails scratch at her bare skin, leaving crescent marks in her flesh. “Jack told me I was going to be alone. He told me and I didn’t believe him,” Amelie sniffles, her teeth biting at her bottom lip and tearing at the skin. Her tongue swipes over the flesh, taking the blood that trickles from the cut. “You’re going to hate me like everyone else. You are. Only a matter of time.”

“You think that I’m going hate you,” he sighs, taking a seat from the corner of the balcony and bringing it towards the bench, his knees knocking with hers and his fingers set on his thighs, nervous to take her hands. “You think that I could hate the love of my life.” Harry’s eyes meet Amelie’s when she lifts her head – he knew that would bring her attention to him. His heart falls into his stomach, taking in the tears staining her cheeks and the bright red circling her eyes. “I’ll never hate you.”

“Can’t believe you,” she mumbles, taking the sleeve of her sweatshirt and wiping her skin roughly, scratching at her cheeks and heaving a staggered breath into the fabric. “Anxiety, it ruins everything. Depression, it ruins everything. Me, I ruin everything.”

“No, you don’t ruin everything.”

“Our holiday was ruined by me.”

Harry’s lungs collapse in his chest. “Our holiday was not ruined by your anxiety. Us staying inside an extra day or two and leaving two days early didn’t affect our holiday in the slightest.” His hands hesitantly reach for hers, his throat swallowing a cry when her hands retract further into her sleeves. “Could have gone home the very next day with you and it wouldn’t have mattered to me.”

Having a spiral on holiday effectively ruins it, Harry.

“Can you listen to me fo’ a second? One minute, that’s all.” Amelie nods silently. “Haven’t felt this much guilt in a long time, and I am sorry. There were so many opportunities to make the conversations and the behaviours that were triggering to you stop, and I didn’t take them. Overstepped a boundary that you had and that was wrong.” Harry’s thumbs gently wipe the tears falling down her cheeks. “Had every sign that you needed me, that you were having anxiety, that your depression was there, and I did nothing. That’s all my fault. Not yours. Have every right to be mad at me, to not forgive me.” His heart squeezes so tight in his chest at the thought of her never forgiving him that he thinks he might break into sobs. “Don’t have to forgive me, that’s okay. Need you to know that I know what I did, I’m sorry, and I’ll never do it, again.”

I forgive you. I forgive you and I love you. That’s what Amelie wants to say. “Je n'aurais pas dû te laisser tomber amoureux de moi. I’m sorry I don’t communicate, and I tend to react on my emotions. I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you. Je suis désolé de ne pas suffire. Tu mérites mieux.”

“Don’t say that, Ames,” Harry whispers, aggressively wiping away the tears that fall down his cheeks and itch his skin. “Couldn’t have stopped me from falling in love with you if you tried and you are more than enough to me. All I want is you, you and me. Don’t you dare say that.” His eyes are welling over with tears, desperately wishing that they could go back to last night, where they were smiling and kissing and promising to be together, that they love each other and always will.

“Harry, you’re going to fall out of love with me. One day you’re not going to want me,” Amelie says, her jaw clenched as she wipes her eyes and stands on her feet, avoiding Harry’s reach for her hand and stepping towards the balcony railing, her eyes meeting the bare colours of the flowers in the garden.

“That’s not true, angel. I swear on my life. I swear to God. I love you,” Harry cries, pushing his body from the chair and sliding it away, disheartened by the way her shoulders tense at the words and her jaw tenses. “I love you.”

And despite the way Amelie refuses to turn around and utter the three words that Harry so desperately wants to hear, Harry knows that Amelie loves him, that she’s in love with him. He has to believe that, otherwise, all of his defences and will to let the words her anxiety is spewing from her lips pass without regard will disappear and he will break. But she needs him, right now, and he refuses to abandon her. Harry refuses to let Amelie slip through his fingers, again.

“But our hatred is almost indistinguishable from our–”

Harry knows that Amelie’s anxiety can make her second guess everything, to make her overthink and believe in the falsities that have been told to her time and time again. Her thoughts make a façade making her believe that she is undeserving of the love in her life, and all the kindness that encompasses her. Her heart wrenches and twists and squeezes against her ribs, hiding away from saying the three words that she desperately wanted to, making an exterior that would guard anyone against ever touching her soul and her emotions and love, that would protect her in the least convincing way. All that Amelie’s gone through to be where she is, to make the art she creates, to love the way she loves, to treat others way she does, is played into the thoughts that make her question all of behaviours and reactions and relationships.

Anxiety makes her mistake the love in her life with hate for herself, and Harry refuses to let that happen again.

“Finish the quote, baby,” Harry says, standing behind Amelie and sucking in a deep breath. “But our hatred is almost indistinguishable from our–”

“From our love,” Amelie whispers, releasing her grasp on the railing and taking a step backwards, returning to her seat on the bench. Her head is pounding and there is a heat creeping onto her cheeks, her blood pressure raising under the sporadic breaths leaving her chest.

“Tell me you love me, angel. Need you to tell me that you love me, baby. You have to remember that feeling,” Harry says slightly louder, slightly more abrasive, taking another step away from her to allow her to move without touching him, “and unless you say that you don’t love me, you’re not moving, you’re not leaving me.”

“Don’t shout at me.” Harry wasn’t shouting. Not yet, at least. He can feel himself getting ready to yell, though. He is ready to yell at the thoughts in Amelie’s brain that make her second guess everything she does, that make her feel like she’s not worthy to be loved by him, that make her feel like she isn’t enough.

“Fine,” Harry’s voice is bitter as he resumes sitting in the chair set in the middle of the balcony, his arms folded in front of his chest. “That’s fine.” He stares at her blankly, his emotions unable to be portrayed on his face. “Guess we’ll stay here all fucking day.”

This is where it ends, her anxiety says. This is where he falls out of love with you. This is where he kicks you out onto the streets and makes you go to your parents’ house, where you have to move out in a week and find a place to live and somehow pretend that you aren’t in love with him and have to settle for someone and marry them just because they like you enough. This is why you ended up with Jack. This is why bad things happen. This is why. This is.

“Um,” Amelie chokes out, tears beginning run along her cheeks, her skin burning with the heat of her blood pressure, “you know, I can go. I’ll leave. I’m sorry. I should go. I’m so fucking sorry. I ruin everything. I didn’t mean to do this. I don’t want you to hate me. I’m sorry.” Her head is pounding so deeply in her temples that she has to squeeze her eyes shut, the tears falling onto her bare thighs, and she swears that if she makes one sudden movement, her mind will go unconscious.

Harry leans forward in the chair, sliding slightly forwards and leaning over his knees, their legs barely touching. “Did I not just tell you that you’re not leaving until you say you don’t love me.” He heaves a sigh, standing on his feet and walking to the railing, defeat etched into his features and sadness echoed in his words. “Tú devez arrêter de faire cela. Tú dois arrêter de me faire ça. ’m begging you to stop running away. You’re saying all of these things and insisting that you have to leave. Arrête de parler de partir et parle moi!” Harry shouts, slamming his hand into the metal bannister, his knuckles white as he clutches onto the rail, his body turned away from hers as she clings to the edge of the bench overlooking the garden, every muscle in her body frozen and unable to move. “Arrête de nous faire ça et dis moi ce qui ne va pas.”

You have to stop doing this. You have to stop doing this to me. Quit talking about leaving and talk to me! Stop doing this to us and tell me what’s wrong.

Say something, her brain screams. Say something before he hates you.

And quiet washes over them.

Harry swallows a sob, turning around and walking to Amelie, his feet carrying him over to the bench, his body uncomfortably kneeling against the concrete, his hands holding her thighs, making her feel his touch, making her know that he is there. “Je sais que tu m'aimes.”

Amelie’s eyes barely meet his, tears streaming and the light eyes that Harry knows are washed out, blurred, dim. Her hands shake against his, her chest rising and falling much too rapidly. All of this, every tear and shaky breath and unsteady hand is a make of anxiety and a nightmare and a toxic relationship. Harry wants to take it all away.

That’s the thing that Harry doesn’t understand. All of Amelie’s boundaries have disappeared with him. All of the guards to protect her heart and her brain and her soul. All of the measures to ensure that she never fell in love, that she never gave herself the opportunity to broken.

Harry has made all of that disappear, and that is what is so terrifying.

He has made her fall so in love that she would impulsively make any decision to see him, to touch him, to kiss him, to be with him because he said the three words that she needs to hear. He makes her feel so sure of herself, that she doesn’t think twice about it. He makes her feel like she is everything and anything, that she can do everything and anything.

That is the scariest thing; there is someone that makes you feel so loved, that you feel like you can do anything. Love is that powerful.

“Tú ne savez pas que,” Amelie whispers, desperately trying to break the intensity that is building between them. Telling Harry that she’s in love with him would prove her point, that the love that they have has broken every boundary she has ever set for herself, that she has ever set to protect herself. “Je vais tout foutre en l'air. Je vais te faire me détester.”

“Listen to me, baby, please,” Harry pleads, grabbing her hands and interlocking her fingers with his, squeezing and kissing her skin. “There’s nothing you could do to mess with you and me, that could fuck us over. Could never hate you, Amelie, ever. Have to believe me on that.”

One day you’re going to hate me. One day it’s going to happen. I am so afraid of that day. I don’t want you to hate me.

“Regarde-moi dans les yeux et dis-moi que tu ne m'aimes pas,” Harry retorts, secure in his judgement and every word that is rolling of his lips.

Look me in the eye and tell me that you don’t love me.

Harry is angry with Amelie – angry that the anxiety is winning and that all those thoughts are going to change the way she sees herself, the way she sees him, the way she sees their relationship. Harry is angry with himself – angry that he hasn’t done enough to make sure that all those thoughts are gone, that they are deep enough in her worries that they’re never a second glance, that they’ve almost disappeared from the atmosphere. Harry is just fucking angry. “Have to say that, because that’s the only thing that could ever screw this up, fuck this up. That’s the only thing that could ever make me hate you.”

“Can’t do that,” Amelie mutters, sucking in a heavy breath and willing her eyes to meet his. Harry’s features portray his exhaustion, now, and her heart aches knowing that she’s caused this. She loves him. Amelie never wants him to feel this way. Harry moves only slightly, his arms gently coaxing around her waist and slowly encouraging her to stand. He wraps his arms around her, only tight enough to ensure that her knees wouldn’t give out, his face leaning away to stare at her. He can feel the sobs being held in her chest, the tightness in her breath, the shakiness as she clutches onto his back. “You know I can’t say that.”

“Pour une fois, s'il te plaît, arrête de te battre contre mon amour pour toi.”

For once, please, stop fighting against my love for you.

Harry’s voice is barely above a whisper compared to her rasped tone, thick with tears and regret and anxiety. “’s not that simple, Harry.” Harry releases her when she takes hold on the railing, his hands holding the metal beside her body, uneasy with how shaky she is against and frightened that she might fall. “Don’t deserve for you to love me, like this.”

“Tell me why. Tell me why you aren’t allowed to be in love. Tell me why I can’t love you.”

“Can’t,” Amelie murmurs, sucking in a heavy breath and turning around, tucking her arms in front of her chest and facing Harry, his eyes meeting hers and his arms tightening closer by her sides, holding her between him and the metal railing. “Can’t have a love like this.”

Harry is frustrated, his breathing heavy, his body adjusting the weight in his legs and making his eyes meet level with hers. “’m asking, no, begging, you, do not shut me out. One of your rules is to never leave someone that needs you. Guess what? I need you. Anxiety makes you think that no one needs you. Depression makes you think that no one needs you. I need you, Amelie. I fucking need you.”

“Harry.”

His cheeks stained with tears, his eyes glossed over and etched with pain. “Have all of me with you, and you promised that you wouldn’t leave me, that you need me.” Harry is desperate for Amelie, now. “On that day you scared me nearly to death because you wouldn’t answer m’calls or m’texts, remember, you told me you would never leave me. On the phone last night, when you were plastered and petrified to come home, our home, alone, you said you needed me. On our bed, last night, when we were kissing and touching, when you were clinging to me and squeezed me and kissed me, you said you always wanted us together. Can’t have you say goodbye to me this way, not when you promised.” Harry’s eyes are etched with pain and fear. He is afraid of what she is going to tell him, more so, what her anxiety is telling her to say. “Tell me this isn’t goodbye, fo’ fuck’s sake. I’m begging you, now, Ames.”

“This isn’t goodbye. This isn’t it. I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Amelie says quietly, her heart breaking watching the emotions move through his body. “I need you; I do. I need you, Harry. I’m not fighting you anymore. I’m sorry. I’m scared, I’m really scared. I’m sorry. Je t’aime. I’m sorry for everything. Je t’aime.”

Harry wraps his arms around her waist, his face tucked into her neck, tears wetting her skin, his hands squeezing her hips, gripping her sweatshirt in his fists. His grip is telling her that he’s there, telling him that she’s there. “Don’t fucking scare me like that ever again. Makin’ me think you can’t love me anymore.”

“Okay,” Amelie agrees quietly, untangling her arms from her chest, circling around his shoulders, her fingertips finding the baby curls at his neck, her face falling to his neck and her lips breathing out a sob. “’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologise. Don’t,” Harry says flatly, his hands squeezing her torso, her chest tucked tightly against his, physically melting into his touch.

“Harry, you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” she cries, shaking her head against him, holding him tighter. “’m sorry.” Harry waits to say anything, knowing that she isn’t quite finished. “Gotta get better. Give me time.”

“J'attendrai avec tu,” he whispers, gently ghosting his fingers along her skin, reaching to take her cheeks in his hands and slowly bringing her to face him. “I love you. You’re not doing this alone.”

I’ll wait with you.

Harry takes a breath, gathering his emotions and steadying his breathing, his thumbs tracing over her cheekbones and drying the stray tears that stained her skin. “Je suis désolé, je n'ai pas pu le voir. Couldn’t see that things were getting bad.” His chest is so tight, his lungs could implode. He could apologise. He could make things right. He could fix this. “Wasn’t there for you like I should have been. I’m sorry. Going to be different, now, I promise.”

I’m sorry I couldn’t see it.

“Je ne voulais pas être un fardeau, that’s why I didn’t tell you,” she mutters, gently kissing his palm, her eyes glossy as she stares at him. “Going to talk to you from now on, I promise.”

I didn’t want to be a burden.

“’ey, you are never a burden,” Harry assures her, his lips touching her forehead, her nose, her chin comfortingly. “Could do nothing to make me not love you or be in love with you. Quite literally, you are everything to me.” All of Harry’s love pours through his words. “Only thing I need in this fucking life is you. Only you.”

“I,” Amelie breathes, squeezing her eyes and blinking away her tears, having a moment to gather her courage, the three words she has to say stuck in her throat. “I love you.”

Harry chastely touches his lips to hers, his heart breaking as he feels the tears stain his cheeks. He savours in the way she tastes, the way she kisses him with so much passion he knows her heart is his without having to say a word. His thumbs brush her cheeks, his lips repeatedly kissing hers for comfort, for love, for reassurance.

Harry doesn’t know what’s going to happen when his mouth leaves hers. He doesn’t know what she’s going to say and how she’s going to react. He doesn’t know anything other than his love for her, and the love that she has for him.

Harry remembers the quote that Amelie marked from their favourite novel, the one that reminded her of him, the reminded her of how she felt about loving him. All of it, every ounce of love that he has for her, all of the thoughts and dreams and feelings for her, everything makes sense.

They were meant to love each other.

Kissing her cheeks, her nose, her forehead, Harry lets his lips linger on her hairline, his arms around her shoulders, bringing her into his chest and holding her tightly. Her hands are squeezing his torso, her face tucked into his neck and sucking in deep breaths, steadying her shaking and trying to process all the thoughts in her head.

“Can feel you thinking,” Harry whispers, his mouth on her hair, his eyes taking in the way the sun is beginning to rise over the mountains far off in the distance and the birds are beginning to sing their morning song.

“Thinking about Finch and Violet, and the Jovian-Plutonian Effect and the Moon,” Amelie tells, her fingertips drawing on his skin and her lips parting with the heavy breaths reaching her lungs. Her cheeks are starting to feel cooler, her blood pressure slowly lessening and her head beginning to feel less achy. “Think we were made to love each other, somehow. Don’t know how that happened, but I’d like to think we were.”

Harry grins, his arms loosening around her shoulders and his hands cupping her cheeks, his mouth tilting into a kiss and soaking in the way her lips so perfectly mould to his. “I love you. I love you so fucking much.” His words are rushed over, needing to have her kiss, the sensation intoxicating and enticing. All that Harry wants is to share his love with her so intimately. “Je t’aime.”

“Je t’aime,” Amelie breathes, squeezing his hips and gently sponging kisses along his jaw, making a light path to his ear. “Fais-moi l'amour.”

His head tilts to meet her lips, his hands gently coasting along her figure and wrapping under her thighs, encouraging her to settle on his hips, her legs tightly circled around his waist and her arms squeezing his shoulders, the balcony door quietly shutting as they messily walk towards the bed, as their breathing hitched together as their mouths entangle in longing and loving kisses. His heart is thumping against his ribs, nearly extending through his lungs and radiating through his fingertips. Her skin is glowing beneath the rising sun, his fingertips trailing over her cheeks and tucking beneath the hem of her sweatshirt, pulling the material over her head and tossing it onto the ground. Her fingers shove the waistband of his sweats down his legs, their movements wanting and hurried.

“Missed this,” Harry breathes, light kisses feathering across her chest, suckling over the moon tattooed on her sternum, his hands dragging her silk shorts down her legs and laying a kiss on her calves as he slinks over her naked body. “Missed you.”

“Missed you,” Amelie whimpers, a moan echoing around their bedroom as Harry’s fingertips gently taste her arousal, his thumb rubbing circles over the bundle of nerves between her spread thighs, her fingers wrapped in his hair as their kiss becomes more passionate and heavy with the wetness on their skin. “Entrez en moi.”

Harry nearly groans at the thought, “Might not take me that long since all ‘ve been using only m’hand for nearly a month.” His weight is supported on his forearms, his hand tugging at his cock, heavy in his hands, his thumb dragging her arousal over his throbbing tip and teasing her heat. “God, ‘ve missed being this close to you. J'ai manqué de faire l'amour avec toi.”

Harry and Amelie gasp in unison as his cock gently eases into her core, her warmth swallowing him, her velvet walls taking all of him inch by inch, her thighs around his waist and her muscles soft under his touch. His hips are flush against her pelvis, thrusting and grinding into her, his thumb drawing patterns on her nerves as her fingernails scratch at his back, dragging along his spine and breathing as his cock reaches her hilt, sponging against the sweetest spot inside of her. “Harry.”

“Love you,” Harry moans, his lips suckling on her throat and marking her skin with a bright magenta bruise. His pelvis grinds with the arch of her hips, her heels digging into his bum and bringing his cock as intimately inside her warmth as physically possible. Her arousal sounds around the bedroom as he thrusts into her, the wetness on their thighs and their sheets and their moans encouraging the sweet love. “Fuck, I love you.”

“I love you,” Amelie whispers, a tear falling down her cheek with the pleasure and the orgasm growing so deliciously in her stomach, squeezing his cock tightly inside and feeling as though the emotions and the love and pleasure is bringing her face to face with heaven. Harry was heaven. “Want you always.”

“Have me,” Harry grunts, his thumb pressing to her bundle of nerves and groaning into her neck as her orgasm spills around him, milking his orgasm inside her warmth and squeezing him deeper, her thighs shaking around his hips. His mouth presses kisses into her cheeks as their orgasms wash over their bodies, her glossy eyes meeting his as he whispers, “you fucking have me.”

All of Harry’s thoughts are jumbled and in disarray as the café comes into view. Amelie’s mural is painted on the concrete wall opposite of where his car is parked, and his forehead rests against the steering wheel for a moment, trying to centre his thoughts and not make any unreasonable decisions. He isn’t quite sure what made him turn down the wrong street and go in the opposite direction of the café that he and his girlfriend – that feels so good to think and say – get their coffee and breakfast from.

Maybe it’s the anger. Maybe it’s the hurt for Amelie.

Harry was lying beside Amelie in their bed, brushing his fingers through her curls, his lips touching her hairline as she sleeps soundly in his warmth. His skin was sticky, sweat covering his forehead and his hair slightly damp, his chest slowly rising and falling with his breathing. He finally was where he wanted to be, with his favourite person, speckled purple bruises appearing across her skin. He was taking in the sight, the way her skin shone brightly under the sun and the quiet hum of her breathing was making his heart beat faster.

And then before Harry could fully process what he was thinking, anger was the only emotion speaking to him, overwhelming his thoughts, thinking about the beautiful woman tucked in his arms. He kissed her forehead, tucked the comforter tighter around her naked body, his fingers tightened the string of the loose-fitting shorts around his waist and shoved his feet into the trainers near their bedroom door, walking quietly out of their house. Harry didn’t want to worry Amelie. He wasn’t going to do anything stupid.

Until Harry was doing something stupid.

“Harry! How are you, mate? Saw Amelie the other day,” Jack smiles devilishly, and Harry’s fists clench together. Amelie described that smile, the one that is a stroke of mischievous and malicious, and Harry could see why his features would make her nervous on sight. “Lookin’ better than ever, isn’t she?”

“You and I need to talk outside,” Harry says through gritted teeth, his keys tucked in his back pocket, his wallet and phone abandoned in his car. “Now.”

“Don’t think we do, Harry.”

“Jack, I swear to God,” Harry grunts, rolling his eyes and folding his arms in front of his chest. He’s taller than Jack, a bit more built muscularly, but there is a tone behind every word that comes out of his mouth that is threatening.

“Be right back,” Jack mentions, two or three younger workers staring awkwardly and shockingly at the interaction happening. Harry walks outside first, barely holding the door for Jack to follow suit.

Harry walks around to the mural, standing a few feet away from Jack and creating their distance. Jack takes one wrong move and Harry is ready to knock him straight in the jaw and never look back. One for Amelie. One for Harry. “Alright,” Harry spits, pursing his lips together as his jaw tightens, the intensity lingering in the foggy January air swelling over. “Firstly, I’m not your mate, I will never be your mate. Secondly, how the fuck did you know Amelie would be at that bar, last night? Do you fucking follow her or summat?” Jack opens his mouth with a smirk, Harry’s hand immediately waving his answer off. “Don’t fucking answer that.”

“Don’t worry, Harry,” Jack shrugs, pulling a cigarette from his pocket and lighting it, moving to stand against the mural and setting the nicotine between his teeth. “That was just a coincidence. Good coincidence for me, but a coincidence nonetheless.”

“Wipe that fucking smirk off your face,” Harry growls, his bottom lip pinched painfully between his fingertips, his eyes a deep shade of green that would be unrecognisable to anyone that stared at him. “I swear to God, Jack, if you ever say anything to Amelie, again, if you go to see her, if you blink towards her, if you even breathe near her, I will not hesitate to break your fuckin’ jaw.”

Jack chuckles, flicking the ash and taking a drag, blowing the smoke directly outside of Harry’s vision. “Do you ever stop to ask yourself why she always comes here? Out of all the bakeries and cafés and coffee shops, Amelie keeps coming back here. Why is that?”

“Hasn’t come here in six months,” Harry retorts, laughing at his insinuation. Amelie’s gone to The Beachwood nearly every day since they moved in together in August. His mind is well aware that his words are meant to get a rise, and it’s scary how much it’s working on Harry’s temper. “Don’t feel fucking flattered. She liked the coffee and your mother, you fuckin’ prick.”

“Did you ever think it could be because Amy misses me?” Jack teases, pursing his lips and shrugging his shoulders, the cigarette burning with a sizzle under his fingertips. “Maybe, I treated her better.”

Harry is seething, his cheeks puffed out with panted breaths and tears pricking his eyes with how angry he is. “Don’t fucking call her that. After all you did to her,” Harry scoffs, shaking his head and twisting his heel in the pavement. “Left me, her boyfriend, to be the one to change everything. You’ve got to be fucking joking.”

“Could think of a few things we did together.”

“Jack, you’re fuckin’ treading on the thinnest ice.” Harry walks closer to Jack, laughing as the cigarette falls to the ground and smashes under his trainer, their chests barely missing each other, his breathing erratic as the anger builds inside of him. His fists are clenched, and his knuckles are white, and there is sudden gratitude for putting all his rings on his hand before leaving their house. Harry wanted it to hurt if anything were to happen. “One more thing is said, and it’s a promise that you’re done.”

“Harry, tell me, do you think it’s because I gave it to Amy better than you?” Jack taunts, his arms crossed in front of his chest as Harry’s fist begin to slink further up his body. His words make Harry want to vomit. “Bet Amelie thinks of me.”

And everything goes into darkness.

Harry swings, punching him swiftly in the jaw and the nose, shaking out his knuckles, his rings twisted on his fingers, the taunting boy planted on the tarmac, his back pressed against the mural on the wall as his mother comes barrelling outside. Jack struggles to stand, his nose bleeding heavily and an imprint of Harry’s rose ring on his cheek.

“Harry,” his mother gasps, her eyes wide and her hand covering her mouth at the sight of her son stumbling to stand on his feet, “what’s happened? I don’t like the look of this.”

Harry doesn’t know when he began crying, but there are tears on his cheeks and his breathing is erratic and there is a heaviness in his chest that could only be relieved by the girl sleeping beneath their duvet. His throat gulps a cry as he gathers his voice, the dark smile on Jack’s lips making his anger worsen. “Tell her what you did to Amelie. God knows you’ll live your life pretending it never happened, but you hurt her.” His voice is barely above a shout, the humming traffic and busy streets barely drawing attention to the two men fighting behind a café and an older woman trying to understand the reason. Harry refused to tell what happened – that wasn’t his story to tell – but he would make sure that someone told the truth. “Fuckin’ broke her down to bits.” Harry’s cheeks stained with tears, thinking about how broken his girlfriend was telling him what happened for the very first time. He’ll never erase the images of her face and the fear in her eyes when she told him what happened. “Amelie made me promise that I’d never tell anyone, but you should know that he did unspeakable things. He isn’t allowed near her, ever again.”

Harry looks at Sarah with a despaired expression on his features, a worried line written in his forehead, his lips pulled into a tight line and a nod acknowledging the end of their conversation. Her eyes travel between the two boys, fighting over malicious behaviours and abuse. “What have you done, Jack?” Her heart aches for the boy staring at her son, hatred in his eyes and a tear falling down his cheek.

Harry stalks away before their conversation can meet his ears, his fist clenching and unclenching to bring the feeling back. He angrily climbs into his car, locking the doors and taking in the sight in the mirror. His hair is falling out of the knot on his head, his knuckles red and bruised and bleeding, his rings scratching at the cuts made there.

Go home. Go home to your girl. Go home and love her.

Harry reaches for his phone, eyeing the five missed calls on his screen. His fingertip goes to click on Amelie’s contact, another call breaking through. He answers, bringing his phone to his ear as the engine in his car turns over and his head lays back against the headrest, his mind fully blank and his eyes seeing flashing colours.

“Harry,” Amelie sighs, “baby, I know where you are. Come home to me.”

Harry is sure that she’s only woken up a few minutes ago, the slight distance and rasp in her tone telling him so. “He deserved to have someone smack his face in,” Harry grits, hissing at the feeling of his thumb rubbing over his cut knuckle. “Fucking cunt.”

“Did you do something?”

“Yeah.” Harry can hear Amelie sigh disappointingly through the speaker. “Don’t know what he was saying to me, though, Ames. He deserved it.”

“You’re right,” Amelie agrees, breathing into the speaker and pausing to collect her thoughts, “and he does deserve that. But I’m here and I don’t want you getting hurt or in trouble.” Her silence is deafening to Harry. “Come home.”

“Don’t even know how I got here,” Harry breathes, looking at the café and the way the street is suddenly silent. “Honestly, I going to get us breakfast, and I looked up.”

“It’s okay,” Amelie breathes, her tone softening with her words, sensing the anxiety that is overwhelming Harry and trying to calm him. “You’re okay.”

Harry settles into his seat, shifting the gear and beginning to drive, his hand wiping away a tear and trying to gain composure of his emotions. “Coming home, now.”

“Good.”

Harry is seemingly mindless the entirety of the twenty-minute drive. All of his movements are done without intention, the directions and the attention and the calculated motions all felt without emotion and thought in his brain. His heart is heavy, aware that his actions might have caused harm to the only person that he cares about. He should’ve thought his actions through. He should’ve been more aware. Harry was just angry.

Going over all of the apologies in his head as he walks inside, Harry chokes out a breath as Amelie wraps her arms around his shoulders, bringing her into his chest and holding him tightly, his hand barely able to reach and shut the door behind them as he melts into her embrace. “Hey, baby.” His lips touch her neck as she hugs him tighter. “God, it feels good to have you in m’arms, again.”

“I love you,” Amelie says, gently coaxing Harry’s face out of her neck.

“Feels better to hear you say that,” Harry sighs, kissing her sweetly and squeezing his arms tighter around her waist. “I love you more.”

“Come on,” she smiles, kissing his cheek and interlocking their fingers, squeezing his hand, her eyes trying to avoid the cuts and scrapes covering his knuckles. “I’ll make you a coffee.”

“Are you sure? That’s a lot to handle in the kitchen,” he teases, tossing his phone and wallet and keys onto the side table and following her into the kitchen, his heart swelling as he takes in her minimal appearance – the vintage shirt that she wore on their first date and a simple pair of cotton panties on her hips – and the comfortability that she has with him. That’s all Harry wants.

“Considering I’m making lunch, right now, I don’t think it’s all too much to handle,” Amelie giggles, wiggling her eyebrows and rolling her eyes as Harry tucks his arm around her waist, clinging to her as she pours him a mug and walks towards the toasty press that his mother bought for the holidays.

“Lunch, hm? How fancy of you,” Harry hums, releasing her and moving to sit on the freshly painted stool near the island, amused at the way there was always a sense of fear whenever Amelie was in the kitchen.

Amelie turns over her shoulder with a pointed stare, her eyes squinting at Harry as his lips tug into a smirk and hide a laugh. “Don’t just stand there if you know I’m going to ruin it.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, love.” Harry sets the mug on the counter and uses the tongs to pull the toasty out of the press. “How do you burn everything?”

“Good question,” she says, sipping quietly from her straw and staring at her boyfriend as he walks around her to clean the mess she’s made of their lunch. “Have to have you cook for a reason.”

“Don’t go anywhere,” Harry says, wrapping his arm around her shoulder and pulling her into his chest, his hand over her tummy, frustratedly unplugging the machine and bringing out the menu for delivery. “Fuck it, I’m ordering pizza. This is hopeless.”

“Have to clean your hand, Harry,” Amelie whispers, her fingertips running over the bruised and distressed skin, dried blood accumulated across his knuckles.

Harry shakes his head, kissing her hair and taking Amelie’s phone to ring the restaurant. His eyes widen as she takes the phone from his hands, setting it on the opposite side of the counter. “’s fine, angel.”

“Baby.”

Harry and Amelie stare at each other for a minute or two, silently arguing over who would win this argument. Her arms wrap around his waist, her cheek lying against his chest, her fingers gripping his waist in a tight hug, silently hoping that he’ll give in to her. She doesn’t want to know what was said to him, but she has to. Harry needs to hear that it isn’t true, that whatever thoughts were put in his head aren’t real. There wasn’t anyone to say that to her, and she refuses to let him ruin their relationship. Harry is everything to Amelie, and there isn’t anyone that’s going to get in the way of that.

He silently kisses her hair, squeezing her hip and telling her that she can lead the way. Hand in hand, they walk into their bedroom and to the bathroom, Harry sitting on the toilet and leaving his hand over the counter for Amelie to clean and bandage the right way. Her silence is overwhelming, and Harry wonders if she’s angry with him.

“Tell me what Jack said to you.”

His chin lifts from his chest, “Doesn’t matter,”

“Harry,” Amelie sighs, tears pricking her eyes as Harry winces with the sting of the peroxide, “tell me. That’s the only way I can tell you that he is wrong.”

He thinks for a moment and tears well in his eyes as he thinks about all that was said to him. “Coughed up saying you miss him and miss being with him,” Harry whispers, a tear falling down his cheek in betrayal. “Fuck.”

“Harry, baby,” she says, her thumb gently wiping his cheeks, her fingertips ghosting over his bruised knuckles.

“Can’t stop seeing you, fucking sixteen and abused by this prick, and he has the audacity to say those things to me,” he whimpers, stealing his hand away and covering his face, his elbows on his knees, his mouth covered by the heels of his hands. “Can’t stop seeing it. Need it to stop.”

Amelie’s cheeks flush with a heat of anger. “Bébé, bisous, s’il vous plait. Je t'aime. Putain, je t'aime. J'ai besoin qu'on oublie toutes ces choses qu'il a dites. Je veux l'oublier.” Her gentle voice is hurried and melodic, her hands prying away his from his face and bringing his eyes to meet hers. “Bisous. S'il vous plaît.”

Baby, kiss me. I love you. I fucking love you. I need us to forget all those things he said. I want to forget it. Kiss me. Please.

Harry’s hands grasp Amelie’s cheeks, their lips melting to each other and their tongues tasting the salty tears falling onto their skin. Her fingers grip onto his shirt, her thighs straddling his waist and her eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks as his hands roam across her figure. “Je ne te ferais jamais de mal, tu le sais, n'est-ce pas? J'ai besoin de savoir que tu le sais.” Harry stands, holding his arms under her and walking into their bedroom, their lips melted into a rhythm as they kiss and share their unspoken love, taking away all that was ever said against them. All that there is in this moment is Harry and Amelie.

I would never hurt you, you know that, right? I need to know that you know that.

“Oui, je sais.”

Harry lays Amelie gently on their unmade mattress, gently kissing along her jaw and neck, his hands lifting her shirt to kiss the pudge at her hips. “Need to kiss where he hurt,” he whispers against her skin, his mouth trailing wet kisses on her inner thighs and the tattoos that cover her legs. “Need to erase all that hurt from you.”

“Can’t you realise that you have? Made me see that I’m so much more than what happened,” Amelie whimpers, her thumbs running over his lips as his chest lays against her, her legs wrapped around his waist and his forearms beside her head to carry his weight. Kissing over his cheeks, his jaw, his lips, she says, “I love you. I do.”

“Love you,” Harry murmurs against her lips, soaking in the way her warmth encompasses him, “Love you to the planets that haven’t even discovered yet and wherever the hell you are. Would go to the ends of the Earth for you.”

“Know you would,” Amelie smiles, gently nudging their bodies forward and her fingertips prying her shirt away from her torso, leaving her skin naked and bare to Harry’s eyes. “Don’t you think I’d meet you halfway?”

“Know you would.” Harry smiles, kissing Amelie’s belly as his fingertips tug the cotton down her thighs and her fingers pull his shirt over his head messily. All of their kisses are messy, and their teeth are gnashing, and lips are being bitten in the sweetest way, the way that means they love each other so deeply and unconditionally that there is nothing else in the world that matters except their way their hands are touching each other.

And then Amelie’s phone starts vibrating.

Harry groans, his hands squeezing Amelie’s hips and pressing a chaste kiss to her lips to try and persuade her. “Don’t want to answer it.” His breath is hot against her mouth, intoxicating and making her want to ignore the call. “Ignore it.”

“Harry,” Amelie whines, “Could be Jenny in labour.”

“Fine.” Harry reaches for Amelie’s phone, swinging his leg over her thighs and settling on the edge of the mattress, his hand reaching out to make her wait as she goes to grab her shirt. “Don’t get dressed, yet.”

His fingertip slides on the bottom of the screen, their best friend’s voice echoing through the speaker and making a smile come to Amelie’s features. Her arms wrap around his shoulders, her cheek lying against his bare back as she snuggles into him. “Don’t care if you two are in the middle of doing it,” Jenny says, breathing heavily and groaning as a contraction begins to wash over her. “Have to get to the hospital because I’m in labour.”

Harry’s eyes roll at the way Amelie smirks at him, her fingertips tickling his tummy as he squeezes her hands. “Ha.”

“Holy shit,” Harry breathes, “Alright. We’ll be there soon.”

“Told you,” Amelie giggles as Harry hangs up the phone, laying on her back and tugging at his hand as his head turns over his shoulder, his eyes meeting hers. “Better make this fast.”

Harry cocks his head to the side, his eyebrows rising and his eyes blinking rapidly to ensure that he really heard her correctly. “Doll.”

“Baby.”

Harry stares at Amelie in awe. Her smile is spread across her lips and her eyes are narrow as she desperately tries to persuade him to bury beneath the comforter with her, to have his skin melting into hers, to kiss her and pretend that they are the only thing in the universe that matters. His heart is pounding so heavily in his chest because she is the only thing in the universe that matters to him. Amelie is everything – all the colours, the stars, the sun and the moon, the songs and lyrics and melodies, the art and literature and the good and the bad. Amelie is all of that and more.

“I love you.”

Amelie grins, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and kissing him sweetly. “I love you. Always.”

121 notes · View notes

danddymaro · 4 years

Text

My Win | Bucky Barnes x Reader

I’d like to imagine her Suit to be something like Ghost (from Antman And the Wasp) I can’t be the only one that thought she was majorly badass as fuck, right?

Flashbacks are in italics : Example

Thoughts are italics in quotes : ‘Example’

Wordcount: 4520

Based During Civil war and afterwards.

My Win

The sound of frothing, scalding water emitted from the ground as black ink began to manifest over the surface, forming a figure that bubbled into a barely recognizable humanoid form.

Startled, the two elder males stared at the bizarre oddity as the younger one took quick action, having moved far before the phenomenon had occurred.

Peter cried out in surprise, leaping up high and holding onto the ceiling with two slung out webs clutched in each hand, releasing a heavy, jolted breath as he sprung to safety. His arachnid senses spiked, and true to the creature he named himself after, he secured himself with caution from the hot zone as he felt a rise of danger and forbidding.

Something seemingly sinister arose from the ground's surface and a feeling of alarm struck the youth, making him recall every single horror movie he’d sat through, momentarily regretting ever having put himself through the thrilling torture.

‘Monsters aren't real,’‘ he contemplated, ‘...But wait...aliens are...so wouldn’t they be real too?’ His inward voice argued back, causing his thoughts to mash together.

With a dark mist still oozing out from it, the appearing body stood motionless at first, hidden eyes observing the two older men with sharp interest.

Parker swallowed down hard, gathering up all his confidence before deciding to speak, forcing out the words, “So...So...You're not here after me?... right?” he asked shakily, getting a declining nod at his question from the mysterious being.

“I'm here for...

winter soldier,” it said lowly, voice distorted by the mask worn on its face. With a pointed finger aimed at the long-haired brunette, it turned over and signaled him to come towards it with patient, slow curls of its index.

“ come to me...Winter Soldier,” it said as it fizzled out his name like a speaking serpent, urging him to step forward into a vice hold.

Cautiously, Barnes stared at the signaling hand that slowly wagged it’s finger at him as though he were a trained dog.

With his feet firmly planted to the ground, he tightened his fists, feeling his heart grow anxious, feeling it grow heavier than it had already been.

The sentiment traveled from him and struck the masked figure with full force. Stopping the louring motion abruptly, the enigmatic being left stunned instead,

‘I can feel sorrow not grown from my chest... but all the same, it’s nested within me.’ (f/n) thought to herself, all whilst hiding her true face of growing sympathy behind her mask. Her hands both traveled up to hover over her chest, wanting to calm her lamenting heart’s ache, but knowing it was futile because it hadn’t come from her to begin with.

“ One of you has a great burden,” She murmured, the sound coming out as wicked as before, and instead of the soft words, distorted hissing was released out for others to hear.

‘For me to be able to sense it…’ She added silently, knowing her empathy wasn’t a strong gift of hers. In fact, she wouldn’t have known she had such a talent, if not for the scarce moments in her past she’d unknowingly utilized it.

With slow steps ( f/n) walked towards the metal armed man, her eyes focused on him only. cocking her head to the side she looked towards him, her eyes fixed on his, peaked with curiosity.

‘Could it be him?’ she wondered, eyeing the man with uncertainty.

It couldn’t be , right?

“I need you to take him down,” Tony told her, “ Nothing else but bring him in, understand?” he told her firmly, and with a short nod, she agreed, accepting his proposition.

She wanted to use her powers for good… Redeem herself.

“Oh..” he added, stopping her before she drew further from him, “ And watch out for the kid would you ?” he told her.

“ Kid?” she asked him with confusion, “You have a child fighting your battles for you,” she said lowly, her (e/c) eyes glaring at him with frost.

Dragging his hand over his face he gave a low, frustrated sigh, “ In Case you forgot Cap is a handful himself, he can take down an entire army without a sweat,” he told her, “ And his little buddy is even worse, “ He told her.

“Oh, and do I need to remind you Maximoff is off with them? So keep your guard up with her,” he warned her, “Unfortunately, you’ve already witnessed the collateral she can do, and that's unintentional...” he muttered.

“Needless to say, I need every bit of help I can,” he told her with a tight smile.

“The kid is capable, I'm just asking for you to have his back… “ he told her, "He’s not there for anything else besides restraining Barnes. So if you see him struggling, jump in , ok ?” he asked.

With a strained smile of her own, she agreed, “Very well,” She sighed.

Had it been anyone else she would have opposed. But she knew Stark. She trusted him and his judgment.

After all...if it hadn’t been for him she wouldn’t have the moment to pick sides.

She wouldn't have a choice of free will…

‘Could your heart be so drowned in such suffrage, you reached out to me?’ She wondered, shaking her head of the thought.

‘No...of course not…’

That couldn't be...

“This is your final offer,” she urged him, her steps quickening to come closer to him, but he refused, instead charging himself towards her, his eyes fixed on solely her.

“I’ll take this one,” Barnes told Sam, already moving to confront the new opponent, leaving the other man to keep his eyes trained on the teen instead.

As his hand flew towards the masked being, It was captured within her gloved hand, a mist of dark smoke emitting from her arm, dividing in two. It began to circle his wrist, crawling up his arm like small, twin snakes aimed right at his neck.

His eyes grew wide as he watched the strange occurrence and he began to retract his still balled fist, feeling a resisting opposition hold him back towards the enigmatic being, refusing to give in to his force whether it came straight towards her or drew back.

An echoing tisk came from his opponent and he felt his pride get stomped on yet again, as well as rising panic at the strange vapor coiling around him.

“ Again...” he said lowly, a hiss coming from him as he looked straight forth to where the stranger’s eyes would be located, glaring at the cloaked figure with aggravation,

‘First that damned kid… and now this...this thing!’ He thought with dismay.

“ I don’t even know what to call that,’ He added lowly while eyeing the being.

“ wow, really impressive there…” Sam said flatly, seconds before being shot with a sticky web and flying back to the wall behind him, bouncing off of the hard structure with a wheeze.

“Shut up and take care of that damn kid!” Bucky snapped, deciding to lunge forward, jerking his shoulder, his entire body shooting right towards the opposing force instead, following up by a brutish strike from his forehead.

Immediately, his tightened fist was released and the cloaked figure stumbled back, feet struggling to maintain balance from the sudden headbutt.

“IM TRYING!” Sam huff out as he attempted to wiggle out from the sticky strings of white snugly tightened around his upper body. “... it's just so damn hard when everyone has a stupid gimmick now!” He cried out, the force of his mechanical wings finally tearing through the restraint.

Once again he was up, taking air and focusing himself onto the young, talkative boy as he continued to jabber on during the battle.

For a fraction of a second, his espresso colored eyes strayed over to Barnes, just on time to see him get a good upper hand on his opponent, leaving him confident to keep the boy in his center of attention.

With repeated strikes to the lower ribcage on each side, Bucky attacked Stark’s ally, executing a final uppercut before sending his metal arm to sling forward, right at the center of (f/n)’s face, causing her to fall back, her body sliding across the ground as it landed.

Groaning, (f/n) arched her back, rolling over to the side with a harsh intake of breath as Bucky came to step onto her stomach.

Fortunately for her, her quick reflexes made him miss, getting nothing but ground and small debris.

Taking advantage of his misconnection she swung her entire arm, the balled fist she formed catching the back of his knee and making him fall to the ground as well. However, to her frustration, he managed to pin her down, his stronger arm falling far behind him to once again strike her masked face.

Cursing under her breath she turned her head to the side, tearing away the bothersome cover from over her face with a frustrated cry.

With a harsh breath, she snapped her face back to look up at him as he was ready to deliver another strike, her (e/c) colored eyes hardened with resolve, willing to take the strike head-on, but only with the promise of vengeance.

However, at the sight of her, he stopped his balled fist loosening,

“You're... a girl ?” he said airily, surprised at the face before him, the same one that had been blessed by feminine beauty. With complete awe his eyes strayed towards her (e/c) colored eyes, feeling himself go nearly weightless as a result of their bewitching nature.

Her lips were parted with a small ‘o’ being visible, her eyebrows raised high in shock. Long, dark lashes fanned over her face as she blinked at him with surprise, stunned as he stopped, not having expected the action.

She had been motionless at first, stuck like he was until she took notice of the look of shock on his own face. It was then that her expression began to change before his eyes.

Her (e/c) eyes peppered with little twinkles and she held back her laughter, which had been successfully calmed into a small, suppressed giggles, leaving him even more stupefied.

She took advantage of his memorization and switched their positions, leaving him to be captured beneath her instead.

His arms were spread out, held down by their wrists by the same power she had demonstrated before, leaving him completely defenseless,

“Are you afraid of me?” she asked him softly, a sweet tone fired directly at him, coated with sickly sugar. Both her hands cupped his cheeks, gently caressing them before crawling down to his neck.

He could feel his skin riddled with small risen bumps, and he swallowed down hard,

“James...Don’t fear me,” she said with the same saccharine tone, her eyes glowing, illuminated like a feline in the night.

And it seemed as though behind her (e/c) eyes a flashlight was set off, glowing magnificently.

'Could it be he's more afraid of me like this?' She asked herself.

He felt a ghastly grip coiling around his neck, shutting out the oxygen supply from reaching him, causing him to panic. fighting her back, he managed to push her off, immediately jumped back from her, hacking and clawing at his neck to feel nothing there.

With a foxy smirk she stared him down, watching him step back from her with cautionary steps like she had become some disease-riddled fiend, and one-touch from her would make him drop dead.

He seemed to be more afraid of her now than before when she had seemed like a monstrous entity, as each step she took towards him, he withdrew himself further by three.

‘ Because I'm a girl…? Is that why?’ she asked herself amused. ‘ That’s really cute…’

“ Oh I see…” she murmured, getting a better understanding, “ Don't tell me it hurts your pride ?” she said cooing at him, teasing him as her smirk grew into a toothy grin.

She showed him all her teeth, grinning at him like a Cheshire cat, all too entertained by the look of shock still plastered over his face, and moreso by the obvious effect of her inquiry.

He shut his mouth, holding back any remark he had because he wouldn’t dare satisfy her.

She wanted to play mind games with him, and he wasn't going to allow himself to be used again… not ever.

Admittedly it had stung at his pride, pinned under a pretty girl and getting his ass handled by some kid that sounded like he had yet to hit puberty earlier on,

So yeah...maybe he was bitter about it.

Her (e/c) colored eyes dashed towards her side to find a small chunk of cement, and with a swing to her right arm, she coated it in her dark power, chucking it towards him.

However, with a quick defensive maneuver, he lifted his arm in front of him, his metallic forearm taking the strike head-on and saving the rest of him from severe damage.

Seeing him deflect her attack smoothly , she huffed, annoyed.

“This ends now,” She said lowly, finding no enjoyment in the prolonged quarrel.

Her body then began to levitate from the ground, ‘ I’ve wasted too much time,’ She thought with annoyance, no longer finding enjoyment in the matter, knowing that letting it go on any further would be a mistake.

She drew her arms up, rising far above her head and cutting through the air. “ No hard feelings,” she said under her breath, lifting her eyes to the two men in her vision.

Bucky was still on the ground, getting up from one knee, and as for Sam, he was hovering above his companion, scanning Peter through his eye-wear to try and find a loop somewhere.

“Move out of the way kid,” she said addressing Peter, who quickly leaped to her side, standing on top of the broken rubble, huddling close to the cracked wall. “Yes mam, “ he said landing, standing at full length and staring in wonder as he saw everything before him coated with a layer of dark ink.

“That's so cool,” he said breathlessly, his brown eyes growing large beneath his mask. He itched to touch the strange coating, his fingers twitching in wonder, wanting to know how the strange aura would feel at his own hand but held back from doing so.

Looking to her side secretly, she gave the faintest smile, melted by the youth’s astonishment,

‘He really is just a kid…’ She thought to herself.

She had been told he was just a teenager, a young boy still, something she had skepticism in.

‘ Stark’s an idiot...’ She thought with a shake of her head.

The kid had no business messing with problems he didn't know about… but then again…

‘ So am I… Because this isn't any of my business either.’

She began to lift up all of the broken rubble and objects scattered around the bit fo area, taking in a harsh breath, feeling herself strain.

'I have to make it count,'

She was then ready to strike, but Falcon flew towards her, spearing her right at her midsection, and making her fly back, the breath being knocked out of her. His arms began to circle around her, planning to slam her down when Parker intervened.

With a web sticking towards Sam’s back, pulling him away with all his strength, Spiderman sent the soaring man flying the opposite direction, effectively tying him up in the process.

Moving quickly, he swung towards the woman, shooting out a web to stick to the center of her chest before she collided with the hard ground,

“ I've got you!” he exclaimed, pulling her up towards him, bringing her close to his own body, arm wrapping around her and securing her in a tight grip,

"Pretty good huh?" he asked her, receiving an appreciative nod. "A quick thinker," she said truthfully.

“Nice," he muttered, " So...could you put a good word in for me for mister Stark?” he asked her as he shot out another web, “ it’s just..I’ve really got to impress him,” he added with small hope, embarrassed to ask such a thing and with a strong heave she hung her head,

“Sure kiddo,” she said sighing, relieved to have been saved from the nasty fall.

Just then a small, red mechanism shot towards them. Instantaneously, they both caught sight of it, but all too late.

The arm that had secured a web to the ceiling was captured and tied by redwing as it continued to fly out, dragging the two along with it.

They both hollered as they were chucked outside, shooting out from the building and dropped immediately afterward.

Her eyes bugged, and frantically she clawed at the air, only to find herself falling further.

‘calm down, calm down, calm down, calm down!’ She repeatedly told herself, taking in a deep breath, vapor seeping out from her entire body, slowing her fall.

She gave a sigh of relief before she remembered the other falling person at her side, “ The boy!” she exclaimed, shooting out her hand to him, also coating him in the strange aura, “ I've got you Spiderboy!” she said with a happy smile, straightening herself out, her feet stretched out beneath her for when she landed safely.

Together they descended like falling snowflakes, worry-free of harsh impact,

“It's actually spiderman,” he said sheepishly, waving his hands up and down, wiggling his legs back and forth too, feeling weightless.

“So," he started, " The powers," he added, interested in what amazing event brought them forth.

“I was just born weird... normal mom, normal dad,” she said chuckling, taking notice of how his shoulders slumped in disappointment.

“You?” she said interested, truly peaked with interest as to how he came about his own powers,

"Is it you, or the suit,?" She asked him.

"It's me," He replied, “They came from a Radioactive spider when it bit me” he answered her with a shrug as though it wasn’t impressive which would be far from true.

"Radio-active spider…" she muttered dumbly.

‘How bizarre…’ She thought to herself.

“I’m so sorry, I didn't ask for your name!” he said with worry.

“(f/n) (l/n),” she said welcomely, but he crossed his arms, and though she couldn't see it, he pouted.

“What's wrong?” she asked him.

"I didn't think you'd give me your actual name," he admitted with disapproval, “ Don’t you go by something cooler?” he asked her, making (f/n) repeatedly blink at him with a blank expression. “I should have one...shouldn't I ?” she asked with amusement, chuckling.

“Later on you can help me out, deal?” she asked him, and with a crudely performed salute, he agreed, “ Awesome! I already have a couple in mind!” he told her.

“ Then let’s save that for later, right now we’ve got to go kick some butt,” she told him, forming a tightly balled fist, jutting it up into the air.

Unfortunately, Rogers had fled, taking the wanted man along with him, the (h/c) haired woman left huffing, annoyed due to their earlier encounter.

............................................................................................................

( A Couple of years after)

With a deadpan expression, she set her eyes forward, not actually staring at anything in particular, instead just avoiding looking at the man that fell into step beside her.

“Come on Doll, after all that talk before, now you've got nothing to say?” he asked her, chuckling.

“ I knew you were a sore loser, “ she started, “ but a sore winner too?” she said with flattened astoundment, gazing her eyes over to him to see that darned grin of his as he maintained his attention towards her and moreso her obvious annoyance.

“Me, a sore loser?” he asked her, snickering, “ I Don’t recall a time you have ever had me beat,” he said shrugging.

Raising her brow, she began to grow a haughty smirk, “Did you really just say that Barnes?” she challenged him.

‘You're just begging for it,’ She thought with amusement.

"I didn't stutter," he said with an eye roll. " Or did I ?" He added.

"Oh… Ohohoho," she began to laugh, waiting to settle down from her chuckle before she put him down.

“Say, Buck,” She started, “ Remember when I beat you up?” She said with complete seriousness.

And at the mention, Bucky immediately settled down from his earlier merriment and prepared himself for a loaded serving of humble pie.

Slowly, (f/n) lost her composure. Laughing jovially, she held her stomach as the soreness from her earlier workout strained her.

Bucky could run faster than her all he wanted, and pick on her all he wanted afterward as well, but the win she had on him that day she met him would always be on the scoreboard, carved into it to always remain.

Grumbling he crossed his arms, “You didn't beat me up,” He argued with a flat look, staring dead at her with steel-cut eyes, and it tickled her even more to see him practically pouting.

The grown man was pouting like some cute, little baby...

“What happened to not being a sore loser?” She said giggling, shoving him aside and moving along with a perky walk. “I just knew you'd get all pouty and in denial,” she added, making sure he heard her, despite their growing distance.

“ Oh! And then before that you had your run-in with Petey,” She added, making sure to remind him of that fail too. Spinning on her heel to walk backward, she focused her eyes on him,

“I saw him manhandle that itsy bitsy punch of yours.” she tisked, loving the growing distraught on his face.

He gaped for a few moments before shutting his mouth and glancing at his side in a scorned manner,

“ Doesn't ring a bell. “ He said under his breath, glowing red at the recollection.

Possibly one of the most embarrassing moments of his life was having some 15-year-old brat cancel him out so easily, and then on top of that throw him around a couple of times for good measure.

“Did... Not... happen,” he claimed.

The sound of crunching ground was heard coming closer as their dark-skinned friend finally caught up to them, having been pushed aside by the two earlier on as they had a childish race to finish their afternoon run.

Truth be told, the only reason (f/n) even caught up to Bucky was because she flew through the last few laps.

It technically counted…

' The deal was to finish the rounds,' she defended herself. Because nothing was said about not running them, the deal was to just pass them.

“ Oh no, he’s pouting again,” Sam said while calming down his breathing, coming to match the other two's calm pace.

Nodding (f/n) confirmed it, “Say… you were there too Sam, remember when I kicked Bucky's ass?” she asked.

Sam started speaking, about to leave his poor boy in shame when he was cut off by a quick elbow to the rib, not hard enough to break anything, but enough to leave him behind.

'Not now.' Bucky thought to himself, shooting a grimacing side glance at the hurt male.

Hissing Sam doubled over, being left behind by the walking pair yet again. “Real mature!” he said out loud, deciding to rest on the concrete ground.

His legs hurt, his muscles had begun to ache and on top of that the metal armed baby decided to hit him.

"I need a break," he grumbled.

(F/n) gave him a quick glance back, craning her neck to look behind Bucky to where Sam sat and shook her head, sighing as she redirected her attention back to Bucky.

“You're such a diva. “ she commented, rolling her eyes for good measure.“Is it so hard to admit I beat you up?”She asked him.

“You didn't beat me up!” he insisted. “ last I remember I had you down on the floor, remember that?” He asked her, making her stare at him with confusion, one she exaggerated and faked of course,

“ Doesn't ring a bell,” she said shrugging,” Not in a million years,” she challenged him, before he used one of his legs to make her stumble.

He seemed to dip her low before falling with her, supporting himself on a knee at first.

She landed safely as one of his hands stayed behind her head and wide-eyed she looked up at him as he sat on top of her.

“I remember it went something like this,” he told her, smirking.

“Remember me?” He said holding her down, smirking at the vexed expression she gave him, her teeth bared as she pressed them tightly together.

“ What's the matter doll? Don't tell me it hurts your pride.” he sang, glaring down at her with the same boastfulness she had shown him earlier.

His two hands gripped her wrists, holding her down with the point of his nose grazing over hers.

“Or Are you afraid of me?” he added tauntingly.

“You have some nerve,” she said lowly, not backing down from his stare-down.

Keeping her eyes on him she melted into the ground, her body turning into dark mist and escaping .

Oh, it made her heart race, remembering just how he held her down, thinking about it as he did the same during the present time,

“Fine," she muttered, “just get off,” She said huffing. “You proved your point,” she added, giving in easily, her will to fight him back sucked out of her.

Her quick submission made him grow suspicious and before long he grew to understand why,

“Hold on...wait…” he said softly, “ Are you being shy?” he said surprised, raising his two brows up high and grinning wildly at the discovery that she could actually glow so brightly, and in such an adorable manner.

It wasn’t like her to be so off guard, much less cave in so easily.

Heck, she was like a mule sometimes , hardheaded and stubborn.

An admirable trait on some days, absolutely annoying on others.

As he asked her that , she grew even more flustered, “Roll your big ass off me now!” she screeched, pushing him away, repeatedly shooting her palms straight towards his chest to get him off.

“Oh your so cute, “ he said laughing. “...But if you really wanted me off, you would have just done it already, like before,” he commented, coming down closer to her, making her face glow darker with rouge.

“Face it...you like it when I'm right here ... on top of you.” He said lowly.

“Barnes… I'll make sure you lose that other arm of yours, “ She threatened him.

“You’re so cute,” he said dismissing her vicious warning, looking down at her with a sweet smile.

“I’m being serious,” she said gruffly. "I'll tear it clean off," she added.

"I know, and I love that," He replied back, causing her flustered state to rise.

Now a long way from them Sam rolled his eyes, cupping his hands over his mouth, “ Get a room you two!” he said out loud, before beginning to stand.

"So..." Bucky said suggestively, causing (f/n) to chuckle,

"You wanna go-"

"Shut up," she huffed, interrupting him.

22 notes · View notes

floridensis · 4 years

Text

a wasp appreciation post

it looks like lots of people are submitting their wasp pics to @onenicebugperday and i decided i wanted to just make a massive wasp photo dump!

i am a recovered wasp-phobe. i used to run in the opposite direction if i saw a wasp. now i go towards them (i do not recommend that. but ive got observations to make). every one of these photos is a testament to how theyve grown on me. shoutout to the nice paper wasps that didnt care about me and just wanted to do their business and ignored me as i attempted to face my fears and photograph them. the pics were garbage but i got better.

so, first, have some of the most majestic wasps ive ever seen:

this incredible creature was probably the biggest wasp ive ever seen. i ran around following it FOREVER to capture a photo, but it was really good at getting away from me. [inat link]

this beautiful thing was probably the second biggest wasp ive ever seen. i detected it because i heard the sound of its massive buzzing wings! it didnt seem to want to go far, i could have sat watching it forever. [inat link]

the rest is going to be under a cut so not to pollute your dashes :)

so lets look at some other funky wasps

heres some beautiful wasps, incredibly tiny with incredibly thick thighs. i think the top one is a male and the bottom one is a female, by looking at the shape of the butt. these little guys dont sting, and the top one let me hold it briefly (it was cold...) [inat link] [inat link]

but im going to be honest, as much as i love those little things, i think that its kinda cheating to showcase non-stinging wasps when defending them against people who hate wasps for stinging. so.....

STING!!!!! look, its just what nature is. theyre not mean, theyre just doing what they gotta do. funny enough, between the two wasps here, im pretty sure most people would be more scared of the victim than the aggressor if they were to see them individually. [inat link] [inat link]

i observe so many wasps in the patch where i witnessed this attack, and honestly i have to say, normally they mind their own business. in fact, this patch is what got me over my own fear of wasps!

like, look at this cutie in the patch, just sleeping there :) [inat link]

theres so many different kinds of wasps there, and in surprising places, too!

heres some parasitic wasps that i hatched when trying to hatch stink bugs. gotta say, even if they werent what i was looking for, it was fascinating all the same. people often hear “parasitic wasp” and go GHGHHGGGUGH HELL NO!!!!!! and im not sure what theyre thinking. parasitic wasps cannot sting, and they hatch out of the eggs or bodies of other bugs and stuff. they dont hurt people at all. (those beautiful thick thighed orange ones earlier on are also parasitic) [inat link]

i want to show off two other wasps but i dont really know a smooth transition for it. so heres a yellowjacket nest.

it was really fascinating. they had built this nest in the exposed dirt of an uprooted tree! we sat and watched the traffic for a while. i dont really see yellowjackets where i live, so it was cool seeing them up in gainseville, especially because of how cool their nest was. [inat link]

none of them wanted to sting me. there were so many awesome wasps in gainesville and only one wanted to sting me.

isnt it just beautiful?? it didnt sting me, but i could tell i was agitating it the more i tried to get pictures. so i left. simple. but i was willing to take a bit of risk because it was one of the most beautiful paper wasps ive ever seen. but if i didnt leave it that would be my fault.

i could go on. i have a lot more i want to show off, but i dont want to type anymore or look up any more of my inat observations.

know what, im just dumping some pretty ones without context

so.... thats wasps for you. i love them. if you wanna reblog and maybe show off some wasps too, youre welcome to.

#wasp positivity #wasps #waspcourse #if theres any typos or mistakes its outta my hands #theres too much text for my adhd ass to proofread #if its really bad just lmk otherwise whatever

131 notes · View notes

goatpaste · 4 years

Text

god out here seein butchleopardstar talkin bout their old wc oc and i just have this urge to show my old ones ESPEcially ones i still have

also a fun lil look into my shitty old art

angel was like my big first MAIN wc oc and she was called angelwing/angelstar and was the leader of demonclan a group of demon monster cats. she was married to a dude named devilheart (who is now a retired oc sorry devilheart) and they had kids and they all fought the forcesss off eeeeviiil.

i still own her and love her, my special first oc,,

Devilheart who is a now retired oc he was angelstars mate and was just a demon who was a big softy who loved his wife but had a temper for annoying people

dragonflight another member of demonclan and one of angelstars friends, he had the stupid storyline of being in love with angelstar despite her having a family and then also being in an unhappy marriage with a lady named blizzardlove

hes a retired oc

blizzardlove who was dragonflight mate and had the exact same storyline but with her being in love with devilheart.

she is oc retired now, but if i was smarter then i woulda relized she was in love with angel

brightflower (now just bright) was one of angelstar and devilhearts kids and was just a very sweet big hearted girl shes still that and loves her mom very much shes just not a cat anymore and is like her current moms story and is in lesbians with one of their evil mortal enemies pride

puretime (now just pure) was another one of angelstars kids who was just for the most part a regular cat but like a werewolf became a giant unstoppable monster on a blue moon that attacks everyone. hes very shy and nervous and scared of himself current him i still own and hes just about the same but he’s people, not related to angel and whatever but he still got scary werewolf live monsters livin in him

ghost flower was the third kid of angelstar and devilheart. she was a ghost cat demon thing and was super rowdy and i loved her a lot of the three. she was angelstars deputy.

now she retired having not been used in years

god THIs oc i didnt even remember existed until i saw her on my DA. her name is Applebabble she was apparently Puretimes daughter and has a speech impediment but the ability to copy voices.

she defiantly got retired oops lol

Envy who was the daughter of Angelstars mortal enemy Reborn but envhdsgsdk envy hated being apart of a family of evil and just wanted to be a normal good person. shes TECHNICALLY not retired i still draw her mom and sibling but i also havent drawn her in years

sinborn the first born on Reborn and favirote daughter.

she means and cruel and knows she favorite and plays to it. she steps on her sisters all the time and its a lil bastard

she was retired a long time ago,,,

Pride who was reborns (at the time son) third daughter who was just a typical scummy bastard who fell in love with angelstars daughter brightflower and is just trying to balance being super evil with being smithened by one of the sweetest lil light in the universe and pride still the same except lesbians now

reborn, the big miss bady of my childhood she was just totally evil through and through and loved to be bad and be a pain on angelstars life. now shes still angelstars mortal enemy but with homoerotic subtext

solarspark, this ugly ugly design im so sorry i did that to you apparently he was suppous to be Brightflowers son who had an obsession with know who his mystery father was i guess defiantly a retired oc

Mirrorpool, Solarsparks brother. who was a lot chiller and big ‘no care’ attitude. he loved his mother and was very sure of himself and his skills.

a retired oc that i still do love the design on. simple but cute

god plush was a stupid ass character whos whole thing was that he could stand and was in love with a gang member but in a no homo way and was defiantly homophobic

now hes just plush the guy defiantly and openly gay for the hot gang leader. and he still stands and is just a furry oc now

Nightkit, designed for a wc rp group on DA, drew her once and then forgot she existed lol

Waxwhisker, also made for that group of wc Rp stuff that i immediately forgot about. he meant to be in waterlcan

timetravler who was as his named said, is a timetravler. he would just show up around leafclan who take people on timetraveling adventures. and was V gay he would often turn these adventures into romantic gestures for handsome men.

i still own this one! idk why i felt like i couldnt let him go,,,

east who was apart of my ‘compass ocs’ he was just a fancy cat who raised his adoptive son west and hate siblings of north and west. they really jdshgds didnt have much story beyond that? idk why i made them

hes just a bunny named east now lol

then west to go along with east. he was just baby cowboy supreme.

south who was just big big meany, she was just very grumpy and violent.

souths brother north who hh is a polar bear now and doesnt have a full up to dte ref, im workin on it lol

but got his old art and design, bad

spookyfire who was apart of my old rp friends clan Hauntedclan and they lived in an abandond mansion. she ws married to the leader lizardstar and they had maNY baby

she is retired U.U

Wickedspell, one of spookyfires many baby

she makes potions and is a lil witch

i tried to revamp her a few times over the years but yknow

things happen

Battlestar, another of spookyfires kids, leader after Lizardstar of Hauntedclan

retired character

Zerogravity anOTher one of spookyfires kiddos she was a sweet lil lady who was with a guy named Arksoul who stood by her after she learned herself incapable of kids.

retired character

wire who was the leader of my own baby version of bloodclan, known as savageclan. wire was an absolute monster who abused those around him and threaten even those he loved to get what he wanted.

his clan was located in a nearby abandoned power plant

his mate scrawnyskull left him with their kids after she realized how horrible he was.

scrawnyskull, Wires ex mate. she and her sister was a pet taken from her home by savageclan cats and raised in their terrible ways. she was later made wires mate. When scrawnyskull realized how far wire was willing to go to get what he wanted, she left behind her life in savage clan to raise her kids in a nearby clan iceclan.

now shes just a big monster lady oc who loves her babies

flora, shes scrawnyskulls daughter

thats about it, and i still have her around

phantum, scrawnyskulls son whos just a lil guy

storm, another one os scrawnyskulls kids, a stubborn lil guy

retired oc

Flare, scrawnyskulls sister who like swanyskull was taken from her home as a pet and made a member of savageclan. she too late realized how bad savageclan is after her sister left

now she just a kitty cat furry oc lol shes the fun aunt

Force, one of my savageclan memebers she hated savageclanbut leaving wasnt really an option

retired oc

another savageclan clan oc named scratch, he knew savageclan was bad but figured noone else would have him at this point

retired oc

twitch, another savageclan character. lazy bastard

retired oc

killier, another saveclan kitty who was stolen from his home as a kid and is now one of wires trusted bodygaurds

Fang, lil lady of savageclan

retired oc

badger and wolf, savageclan bastard brothers

oh they irritating

retired oc

Hollow, savageclan cat. saved by savageclan warriors as a child would have died if not for them. feels in dept to them

retired oc

snipe, savageclan warrior taken from his pet home at a young age. learning of his orgins in adulthood came to have a fascination for humans

retired oc

Fox savageclan lady

retired oc

Diamond, pretty savageclan lady

retired oc

leafclan warrior SafariPuma

now hes just a big muscle tiddy kitty

bright?? who was just a cat made of blood?

retired oc

cabbitleap, just a cat rabbit grumpy man

retired oc

icestar, leader of my iceclan i made forever ago

retired oc

rosedew, daughter of icestar and her mate snaketail

ragingstar, first leader of iceclan. spunky loud lady

now shes is named flamingo and is mmm creature!

goddessstar, leader of stellarclan

retired oc

Dim horrible daughter of goddesstar

retired ocs

silentnight, i think i made her just to have that name

retired oc

his name is fucking coxdream, he was half cat half fox and at age 10 or whatever just DID not relize the motherfucker name sounded like that

now his name is still cox dream and now hes just a horny joke/serious character lol

Gracie, a loner who easily fell in love and constantly had her heart broken

now shes a zombie and falls in love and then eats the people she likes which sucks

B their a ninja cat

Dagger, cyborg cat who was experimented on

now shes a cool fortune teller with robot parts for fun

wasp was probably one of my first cat ocs when i started being into warriors i still have him and love him and im currently designing him a boyfriend,,

brown who was friends with wasp

i think she could technically be said to be one of my first fursonas lol

retired oc

badsmog, never did much wqith her beyond design

still have her as smog and she is creature

#my ocs

50 notes · View notes

juststeveandtonythings · 4 years

Photo

The mysterious Yellowjacket and Jan get married! Except the issue pointedly mentions that Steve and Tony leave before vows are exchanged. Maybe all the romance got them into a mood, eh eh?

(Okay, while it’s never actually explained why they bounced, it’s implied that they have stuff going on in their own issues - Steve with the Serpent Society in CA #110, and Tony with the Mandarin in IM #10. Still, there were a ton of other superheroes present, and you didn’t see any of THEM sneaking off together ufufufu.)

Anyway, most Avengers are unhappy about this marriage and think Yellowjacket just wants Jan’s money. But they have bigger problems to worry about once the Circus of Crime attacks them, because apparently those bozos thought attacking a gathering full of superheroes would go well for them. In the ensuing battle, Yellowjacket, terrified for Jan’s life, rips off his costume to reveal... Goliath?!

Apparently Yellowjacket was actually the result of accident-induced schizophrenia: Hank dropped some chemicals, had a mental break, and became someone who would actually finally marry Jan as opposed to regular ol’ Hank Pym, who had repeatedly been held back by assorted misgivings. He thus took on the mantle of Yellowjacket (”a fitting mate for the wonderful Wasp”, he sighs) and engaged in all those hijinks.

So all’s well that ends well, as long as we ignore the fact that Jan (who is implied to have caught on to the fact that Yellowjacket was Hank having some kind of episode) sort of manipulated a man who wasn’t really in a state to give consent into marrying her. Yay!

- Avengers Vol 1 #60 (1969)

#avengers vol 1 #avengers vol 1 60 #1969 #hank pym #janet van dyne #tony stark #steve rogers #stevetony

1 note · View note

commanderkurama · 5 years

Text

long ask on tv tropes section for yang saying she is ambiguously bi

Although the Ship Tease between Yang and Blake has increased in frequency over the volumes, she has displayed no interest in other girls and no interest in boys since V1C3, when she voiced her appreciation of the various topless boys sharing the hall with them for the night. Later volumes focus entirely on her close relationship with Blake, such as helping her deal with her anxieties related to the White Fang, asking her to a dance, and being extremely distraught about Blake fleeing Vale after she loses her arm trying to protect Blake's life After reuniting, they survive an initial awkward period to reforge a very close bond, holding hands on several occasions and taking comfort in each other's presence. Adam's decision to sever Yang's arm as a start to his promise to destroy what Blake loves shows that he sees yang as a rival to blakes romantic affections along with his rematch

Dude. The tvtropes entries for Blake AND Yang are practically sentried by Wasps.

But if you want me to break it the fuck down I will.

“Ship tease increased over the volumes”

They get literally one conversation a piece in volumes 2&3 ending in Adam’s attack, Volume 4 only references Yang in the context of person Blake cares about that got hurt same as Sun (Blake goes on about how she hopes the TEAM hates her for leaving), Volume 5 has Yang express bitterness at Blake ditching them (there’s that natural progression), and then they reunite at the end with little fanfare and we have the two little awkward moments in Vol 6 and lastly the death of Adam. Most of it can hardly be called ship teasing when there’s no concrete romantic context.

“She’s expressed no interest in other girls and no interest in boys since V1E3”

Coincidentally the very episode she introduces herself and Ruby to Blake, who really isn’t all that eager to make friends and its Ruby who gets her to open up about books while Yang’s just....there. But yea tell me more about how Blake intentionally sought out Yang as her partner. Pfffft. Explicit interest in boys, no interest in girls outside of dramatic instances with Weiss AND Blake with no concrete romantic context but she’s totally a lesbian believe it.

“Later volumes focus entirely on her close relationship with Blake”

Im sorry wut?

Overcoming the loss of her arm had nothing to do with Blake.

Tracking down Raven because she’d be a beeline to Qrow and thus Ruby had nothing to do with Blake,

Finding Ruby and retrieving the Haven Relic from Raven and trying to get it to Atlas had nothing to do with Blake.

The “focus” on her relationship with Blake begins and ends on the factor that Yang had abandonment issues brought forth by her mother, a relationship she resolves on her own btw, and Blake had a terrible habit of running away from her problems, and trying to keep her friends at a distance because she felt they’d get hurt, something she grew out of with SUN’s help. Then they reconciled and killed Adam because he gave them no choice.

“Asking her to a dance”

Sun asked her to the dance. At the time she was hyperfocused on Torchwick’s whereabouts to the point she wouldn’t sleep or eat, so she thought the dance a waste of time. Yang took it upon herself to try to convince Blake to relax and go (period, going WITH Sun and staying with him the entire night was Blake’s own decision, no convincing needed) because she could relate and this relayed the story of how her stubborness to find her mother almost got her and Ruby killed. She said she’d save her a dance because Yang is playful. We don’t even see the dance, only where Sun cuts in. If it was meant to be a big deal, they’d have gotten a conversation during the dance where there’d be actual hinting towards romantic attraction between them but there is none.

“Adam sees Yang as a love rival”

If that isn’t the most ridiculous argument or idea to showcase romantic context....Adam is stated to be delusional for one thing. And he despises humans. Here is Blake, being all chummy with them. So yes, when someone comes looking for Blake, he’ll take them to be someone she cares for, and to hurt her, he’ll hurt them. It could have been Ruby, Weiss, Sun, or Team JNPR. He doesn’t know the intricacies of Blake’s relationships with her friends. All he knows is she left him and he wants her to suffer for it. So he is far from a reliable source of perspective on Blake’s romantic interests.

#ship discourse #submission

5 notes · View notes

Last Seen Blogs

ciitrinitas

live or die by the sword.

noxsoulmate

Noxy

shadowduel

RIB ♡ 24 ♡ THEY

meowczafhaye

Kitty meow czafhaye

sunwisecircle

Sunwise Circles