#the last time i cried more than a couple tears was like half a year ago

[doobean]

AN EASY A - NAGI SEISHIRO

synopsis: There's a problem student in your class and he just can't seem to understand that he needs to put in the effort. You've already given him three chances to make up his assignments - all of which he ignored. But what happens when he suggests another alternative during office hours?

contents: explicit content, afab!fem!reader, age gap (he's 22 and reader is 27), student-teacher (duh), reader kind of a tough professor lol, also a bully too ig, sex in teacher's office, masturbation (reader), power imbalance, nonconsensual video recording, vaginal sex, unprotected, creampie, breast/nipple play, dom?reader, switch!nagi, cunninglingus, cumming on face and inside, degradation, name calling (brat x 2, good boy x 1), nagi having a big dick, happy ending :) word count: 3.7K a/n: part 3 of my kinktober event :3 SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG LIFE TOOK OVER BUT I HOPE THIS MAKES UP FOR THE LOST TIME ;; I WILL MAKE THE LAST KINKTOBER FIC EXTRA SPICY TOO DONT WORRY FAM - also im super proud of myself for literally scraping the draft and rewrote this within a span of two days?? like wow the pressure is on.

There are some habits that never seem to change — even with age. You’ve seen it all, experienced it too, from emailing your teachers last minute about having to make up an exam worth over half of your course grade to faking a family death in order to get an extension, or — and this is more for students who are a bit too ‘brave’ — blaming the teachers for their inability to do their jobs. You knew what you would be getting into when you went into this job, from having to do the last minute panic pleas to now being on the receiving end of it. And you now actually feel sorry for having to bombard your past professors like that.

You release a deep breath from your nose and flick the red gel pen across a student’s exam, circling the large failing number by their name. “I’ll see you next year.” You try to sound less harsh, more on the sympathetic side, since you’re relatively still within the same age group as some of these students, but who wants to hear that? That they have to repeat a course and be stuck a graduation year behind? Absolutely no one.

You want to look away as you hand the student back his exam scores because you just know it’s going to end with tears and meaningless pleas but that would be unprofessional on your end. Instead, you give the student a small smile and a couple of pieces of candy from the glass bowl next to you. 

“Sorry if it’s not much but it’s better than nothing?” God, you need to work on your pep talk. These students are basically adults, not elementary school kids.

“A-Are you sure I can’t do anything else to boost my grade?” The student starts to whimper and you have to tense your whole body from cringing at their quivering voice. 

Ugh, it’s useless. Why bother begging if they haven’t bothered to study the material?

Still, you manage to whip up an emphatic frown and shake your head, voice sounding more motherly. “I’m sure it’ll be easier for you to understand next time.”

Another whine and then a final huff before the student storms out of your office. By the time the door shuts and their wails are out of ear shot, you slump back into your chair and groan loudly into your palms. Your body aches from being at your desk all day long — your mind is doing no better, having to deal with students’ cries and unwarranted trauma dumping. Seriously, when are they going to pay teachers more to deal with this type of stuff?

On the bright side of things, your office hours are officially over. Final grades will be up by tonight and you’ve completed most of your tasks with all but one student being a constant no show for the eternity of the semester but that responsibility doesn’t fall onto you. He and the handful of others can just show up again next year. 

You spend some time debating your options, eating a nice, warm bowl of noodles sounds good for now but… you did spend nearly eight hours cooped up in your office and you are feeling a bit high energy right now, so stress relieving might be a good answer first.  

���Now, where did I put that thing?” You reach down your desk, pulling up your purse and rummage through it looking for a very specific purple ‘massager’. 

It’s super rare for you to ‘release’ stress while on campus grounds, this might be one of the few times, with others following the same patterns, but you feel the utter need to reward yourself after today’s events. It’ll only take you maybe ten minutes max, afterwards it’s dinner and then a quiet train ride home. Plus, not like you have a partner who can do this for you — you barely have time to take care of yourself, let alone be in a relationship or commit yourself to a random hook up. Sometimes, it’s just better to handle the situation yourself since it is your body.

A breathy sigh leaves your lips as you place the vibrating head against the soft cotton fabric of your panties, already soaked through by just the thought of de-stressing yourself. You throw your head back, with one hand steady with the magic wand and the other traveling up to your blouse, unbuttoning the top and allowing your black bra to be exposed in the room. As you increase the pressure from the vibrations, your free hand spills your breasts from its cups, your thumbs and digits immediately running over the sensitive nubs and plush flesh of your chest as you start to chase your high.

“M-Mhm—! Right there…” You roll your head to the side and shut your eyes, imagination fleeting to the thoughts of a male seated in between your legs, his tongue desperate and latching to your overwhelmed clit and folds while your thighs keep his shoulders in place. 

You think it’s so unfair that your other friends have already settled down with partners of their own. When holidays come around the corner, when you finally catch a break from all the whining and fake wolf cries, you just have to hear your friends gush about how romantic their partners are to them. You secretly hate winter because of it. All those talks about Christmas gifts, their New Year’s couples resolutions, their stupid fancy ski trips that cost close to thousands of dollars, and then top it off for Valentine’s Day. Summer is more bearable, only because of the lack of romantic holidays, but you still get bitter from seeing their beach photos and international trips.

You change the position of your magic wand, facing it closer and pressing it harder down your clit, nearly drawing blood from your lips as you suppress back a frantic moan — a moan that’s a mix of both pleasure and frustration. 

Fuck the students. Fuck your friends. And fuck this job.

“H-Haah—! Oh my god…” Your hips buckle feverishly, body quaking in your seat as you start to feel a familiar coil tightening in your stomach and a rush down below. A build up of tears start pooling at the corners of your eyes as your vision starts to grow hazy. Your heart heaves forward, about to burst out of your chest, the imaginary man just about to finish you off—

Creak.

Your eyes immediately pop open and the color drains from your face at the squealing sound from the door. You don’t have enough time to cover yourself up when you realize that a student is standing by the entrance, wearing an equally shocked expression on his face. A tousle of white shaggy hair, large gray eyes, appearing at a staggering height with—your gaze trail to his hands and nearly faint from the sight—his phone.

The sound of the door creaking again snaps you out of the phase and your arms fly over your chest, the words stuck in your throat and your vibrator falling to the floor. 

Shit, what should you ask first? Has he been recording you this whole time? When did he even show up? You’re positive that you were the only one left in the academic building, so what is going on?

“Um,” The male has the audacity to walk in the room, his gaze fixated on everything but you. “Are office hours still open?”

What. The. Fuck.

You blink once, twice, and, when the student is still standing there, confirming your thoughts that he isn’t an awful mirage sent down by the Lord himself, you feel yourself internally shrinking.

“I-Is that the first thing you want to ask me?” You stifle back a laugh, or at least you think it’s a laugh. Maybe even a few waterworks for later. “Just who are you?”

But then it hits you. The black and blue duffle bag he has by his side had his name engraved on it. You don’t need to take a closer to recognize the national team’s logo and you certainly don’t need a Google search to realize that Nagi fucking Seishiro, a soccer prodigy and your apparent student for the semester, might’ve just recorded you masturbating in your office.

You manage to find an old jacket from one of the drawers at your desk and throw it on before pointing a harsh finger at the man. “Delete it, now.”

“Will I get an A?” Nagi is surprisingly blunt and, now looking back, this might honestly be the first time you’ve ever talked to him out of the whole semester. He seems to catch your perplexed look, shooting you a pair of creased brows back as he explains, “All of my other courses were remote because of training and football games… You were the only professor that denied it.”

You huff, seemingly annoyed that he thinks he can be an exception to your course rules. “I don’t hand out favoritism to just anyone and,” You glare at the phone in his hand, sneering right back at his uncaring facial expression. “I’m definitely not going to pass you if you’re threatening to black mail me.”

“Maybe we can help each other out?” Nagi offers, maybe a bit too fast and too eager. 

You cautiously sink back in your seat, eyes narrowing at his suggestion. “What are you implying, Nagi?” The male shuffles awkwardly in place and your gaze flicks down, eyes widening for the nth time today and an audible gasp slips out. “You can’t be serious.”

“I need to pass and you—” Nagi clears his throat and motions to your slick covered vibrator, which is still very much on and buzzing away on the wooden floor boards near his feet. “You didn’t finish.” He rakes his fingers through his hair and adjusts the semi-hard length through his sweats with his other before finishing his offer. “I’ll delete the video, help you, and you’ll give me an A?” Nagi lamely suggests. 

You want to scream, dig yourself a ditch large enough to fit you and the rest of however much pride you had left, and wither away. You’ve had students coming to you with plenty of other excuses, much more tamed than whatever situation you’ve found yourself in. And, regardless how much shitty this actually is, it doesn’t get rid of the fact that: one — you’re still sexually frustrated from having your orgasm ruined by this oversized, lazy fucker, two — you literally just got this job a year ago and getting fired for masturbating on campus might not look so great on your record, and three — if Nagi is true to his words, maybe you both can just forget about it the next day.

“You don’t get the control, I do.” You rise from your seat, allowing the jacket to fall from your frame. Your gaze hardens on the male subject in front of you as you bend down to reach for your toy, turning it off and putting it away in a nearby drawer that’s most likely filled with other student’s graded assignments. 

Whatever, they’ll probably cry more fluids on it when they get their results back anyway.

Nagi tenses when you reach over to touch his arms, feeling up his toned biceps and rest of his upper body underneath the black hoodie, and he doesn’t dare to move unless you tell him to. You let out a scoff, feeling satisfied that he’s already willing to compromise so quickly under short notice. With a light tug on his sleeve, you drag him closer to your desk and settle yourself on top of it. You hike up your pencil skirt to your upper thighs and spread your legs wide enough for the width of his shoulders.

“On your knees, brat.”

He silently obliges, bending down on one knee and his hands find home on your inner thighs. You resist the urge to squirm under his touch, still feeling rather sensitive from your earlier chase and not wanting to give him any ounce of satisfaction. Without any audible exchanges, he allows you to direct his head closer to the heat of your sex, the combination of your increasing wetness and the hot puffs from his breath makes your stomach twist in anticipation.

With a quick swipe, his fingers brush aside your panties to the crease of your thighs and lean in, giving a few experimental licks to your slicked cover folds before burying the rest of his face in. Your reaction is instant. Your fingers claw their way deep into his shoulder blades, thighs threatening to squeeze the living life out of him, but Nagi’s grip is even more threatening. He stays rigid, palms glued to your thighs and keeping them in place as his tongue flicks against the stiff nub — drawing lazy circles.

Your mouth betrays your character as he suddenly decides to insert two digits, scissoring their way into your velvety walls. Nagi grunts in response at just how lewd you sound right now. 

“Soaking wet…” He observes with careful eyes at your sex before looking up, a playful smirk flashes across his face when he notices the flush in your cheeks. With another twirl from his fingers, combined with the slow swirls from his tongue, your head rolls back as the torrent seems to be relentless.

With the next extra pumps, you cum hard with a shudder, vicing your thighs against his head.  You can feel the leak of fluids slide out of your folds, and Nagi pushes his face inward, making sure he slid his tongue against that sweet spot of yours again. It blinds you with a final surge of pleasure, and you cry out as your orgasm shakes you to the core, nails biting into his shoulders.

You’ve never experienced an orgasm that intense before, even with the usage of your vibrator — hell, you can’t even remember when’s the last time a man has made you reach that high. Bright colors cloud your vision as you tumble through what seems like an endless bliss. Your body goes slack, back now flushed against the office desk, but Nagi’s body is still tense, his muscles twitching as he gets to his feet and lifts your legs off his shoulders.

“Hey,” Nagi slurs, wiping away your slick with the back of his hand.  “We’re not done here.”

“W-What are you talking about—ah!”

Your vision is just beginning to clear up when you find yourself trapped between Nagi’s arms. He’s hovering above you, a certain dark look casts over his gray hues as he bores into your own. You swallow hard, heart beating faster when you look down to see his sweats already laid around his thighs and his cock springs free, head spilling with heavy amounts of pre. Nagi’s length twitches at the sounds of your moans and the male takes that as a sign of approval.

“What?” He leans forward, his bangs brushing against your forehead. “You’ve never seen a penis before?”

“Don’t get smart with me, brat.” You spit back, immediately tearing your gaze away from his rather impressive size. Might be the biggest you’ve ever seen in person outside from those awful porn videos online.

If you can find the energy to, you might’ve laughed at his lame attempt to have the upper hand, but Nagi doesn’t waste his time. He closes the distance, smashing his lips against yours, tongue already dragging its way down your throat. You choke back but recover quickly, hands flying to his locks, grabbing fistfuls, and rocking your hips against his hardened appendage. A sinful groan slips from his lips and lifts one of your thighs up, your ankle resting on his shoulder while he wraps the other around his waist. 

You part your lips when he breaks away from the kiss, a thin trail of saliva connecting you two, and a whine spills from you as Nagi begins sliding his cock in between your folds. He sucks in his teeth, breath hitching sharply at the sight. 

“Wanna put it in so bad—” He shudders seeing your slick engulfing his length. “Can I—Can I please put it in?” His monotone voice now replaced with a shaky resolve, almost as if he’s seeking for your next stage of approval and pleasure. 

You reach up and cup his cheeks in your hands, eyes softening at his glassy ones. “Promise to delete that video and you might get a chance, Nagi.”

“Sei,” The male breathes out.

You tilt your head. “Huh?”

Nagi leans into your touch, nuzzling his cheeks into your palms. “Want you to call me Sei… Can you do that?”

“Sei…” You whisper out, suppressing back a laugh when you see the towering male tensing at the sound of his name. The twitching from his cock brushes against your clit making you squirm. “Sei, make me cum around that cock of yours.”

A cry escapes from the both of you when he slides in, inching bit by bit and holding your waist with both hands as leverage. You can’t do anything but throw your head back, sounds leaving your hoarse throat at the sheer size from him.  Your hands can only reach his thighs, nails leaving their crescent marks on his skin as Nagi bottoms out inside of you with a long, agonizing stroke. Nagi takes his time, building a slow but steady rhythm, staring down at you with intense gray eyes and making sure the thickness of his cock stretches your walls as he continues. You suddenly feel grateful that you came earlier, the extra slick and foreplay made the insertion easier because you’re certain without it there’s no guarantee that you would’ve been able to handle this mind numbing fucking.

After a few more experimental strokes, Nagi finds a comfortable pace. You’re now starting to get used to him and it feels so, so good that you’re finding everything in your power to spread your legs as far open as they would go. Sensing your struggle, Nagi lifts one hand to push your thigh back even further, and you let out a yelp, whining when you feel him brushing against that sweet spot inside of you again.

A warm rushing sensation starts building in your stomach again and you feel as if you’re about to jump off a cliff. Your walls clamp down around his cock, wails starting to bounce off the walls and legs shaking without any means of control. You’re absolutely floored by the way Nagi’s able to make your body react this much under his touch. It’s only your first time having sex, yet it feels like he’d been making love with you for a lifetime. 

Your eyes fly shut as the feeling of his callous thumbs make their way onto your swollen clit, rubbing and tapping away. Flames are riding your nerves, you can’t hold back any sort of resistance in your voice as he picks up the pace, hips slamming into yours and sounds of sex filling the air. Nagi moves swiftly and punishingly, holding your hips still and not allowing you any room to move around as his cock tears against that spot that had tears finally spilling down your flushed face.

“Sei,” You choke out a sob, throwing a hand over your mouth to try and suppress some of the noise. Though, you and him both know it’s a futile effort.

The build up of pleasure is so binding that you’re beginning to lose sense of time and place, feeling only the desperate and feral thrusts from your student. Your second orgasm fades slowly, leaving you in a pool of ecstasy, but that doesn’t stop Nagi. 

Still hard and pumping, his grip on your hips only tighten and he grunts out a lustful moan. “Feels good, right? Cumming all over me?”

You look up to him, tears of pleasure disorienting your vision, and in a state where you’re too incoherent to speak — pleading only with your doe eyes.

Nagi understood immediately. He slows down his pace, leaning forward, making sure the head of his cock kisses the inside of your cervix before bending down to place one on your own gaping lips.

“Such a good boy, aren’t you?” You manage out.

He groans at the pet name and peppers your face and neck with wet kisses, lifting your leg with one hand so that he can slowly stroke back and forth inside.

One of your hands reaches for your chest, fondling and toying with your nipples while your other hand reaches for the back of his head, gripping his white locks and pulling him down for another feverish kiss. Your lips remain sealed and pressed together in a battle of tongues as he rocks inside of you, sending you yet another orgasm as he moans into your mouth. 

“H-Haah—I’m close…” His hips buck wildly. “Gonna cum inside of this pretty pussy…”

Nagi finally comes undone inside of you, his whole body shuddering as coats of white paint the insides of your velvety walls. A heavy pant from him catches your ears as he pulls out slowly, eyes admiring the hot, white trail that travels down your thighs and onto your desk. 

By now, you can barely keep your eyes open, both mind and body exhausted. You try to get up, only to find zero strength left in your limbs, but soon you feel a pair of toned biceps around your waist and Nagi pulls you into his firm, yet comforting chest. 

You want to ask him something again, something regarding that video he took of you earlier, but you’re beginning to lose your train of thought as exhaustion creeps up. Your entire body aches and your pussy is still emptying his remaining orgasm. But, strangely enough, you find yourself not caring about it anymore. 

A smile makes its way onto your features as you drift off to sleep, making you miss the fact that Nagi did delete the video shortly after and scribble a quick note next to your purse. It’ll be another hour before you have the chance to read it.

‘Don’t forget that A. XXX-XXX-0506 - Sei.’

© 2023 DOOBEAN. do not copy any of my writing and translate/repost.

KINKTOBER TAGLIST (PART III)

@milkistoshi @mareonyan @saenora @blissblossom @wowonamo

#doobean:kinktober23 #cw: power imbalance #cw: video recording #cw: age gap #bllk #blue lock #bllk smut #bllk x reader #nagi x reader #blue lock x reader #nagi seishiro #nagi seishiro smut #nagi seishiro x reader #blue lock x female reader #bllk x female reader #doobean writes

[moonchildstyles]

neglect

harrys in an unhappy marriage and didn't realize he was missing so much sunlight until y/n came in

cw: toxic relationship? idk harry's wife isn't nice:(

wordcount: 13.5k+

—————

"Bye, honey. Love you." 

Harry didn't realize he had his hopes up for a reciprocated response until nothing came. Minerva left though the door with nothing more than a wave tossed over her shoulder, eyes glued to her phone with a smile that wasn't for him on her lips. He didn't know the last time she said I love you back.

Heaving a sigh that lifted his shoulders before deflating into a slump, Harry locked the front door after his wife as the start of his day alone. 

It'd been two weeks since he lost his job in the third round of layoffs his office (ex-office?) was going through. It had been heartbreaking for Harry, having given almost a decade of his life—he was just months short of his ten year anniversary, actually—to this job; having given up on his dreams, and sacrificing time with his family all throughout those years. It all had been thrown away after one bad investor's meeting, leaving him with a measly severance package and a generic goodbye card left on his desk on his last day. As if that day couldn't get any lower, when Minerva finally came home and Harry sat her down to tell her the news, she barely looked up from the ping that lit up her phone screen. 

"That's what happens when you stay with a failing company, Harry. You should have been paying more attention." 

With that, she had left him to sit alone at the dining room table, his head in his hands as he tried not to let tears fall from his eyes. She always said he was too sensitive, crying would only serve to make her more annoyed with him.

Since then, he had all day long to shop around his resume online and through networking channels, only to field rejection emails by the end of the day. Minerva offered no support, only giving small hums or "I told you so" when she bothered to answer at all when he told her about his day over dinner. It broke his heart. 

While their marriage hadn't been anything close to perfect for a very long time (Harry didn't think it really ever had been, the more he thought about it), this was the worst it'd ever been. Minerva was always the harder one out of the two of them, which worked for a long time. It was all about balance, Harry remembered thinking back when they first moved in together after getting engaged. He was the soft one that cried watching romantic movies, and she was the one that would scoff at the logistics and talk about how unrealistic the stories were. She preferred horror with unhappy endings.

It worked, until it didn't.

Something changed after those first months of living together. Since then, Harry had been trying to play catch-up to get on the same page as her, but she seemed to be chapters ahead by the time he was even going in the right direction. His degree was never good enough, his dreams of being a songwriter or music producer were too silly to even entertain, and his family didn't support them enough. By the time he realized Minerva didn't even like him much anymore, let alone love him, he was left with a broken heart. 

But, even when he suggested counseling or even one of those couple's retreats that offered hands-on help, she shut him down immediately. That was all hippie shit he should have grown out of after they graduated college, she told him. It was her that brought up divorce, the word that had all but split Harry in half when it hung in the air between them, only for her to shut it down and tell him it wasn't an option as far as she was concerned—it would look bad for her to be a divorcee while she was still trying to climb the corporate ladder. Maybe after she made it to the executive level, she mused, if he still felt this way anyway. 

Harry did the only thing he felt he could: pretend everything was normal. If he wanted any chance of not losing his mind, sinking into a depression that he feared he would be unable to climb out of, he had to fall into the motions of loving her. He woke her up with breakfast ready before they'd leave for work—before he lost his job, of course—, telling her goodbye with a kiss to the cheek and hollow declaration of love that he still felt hurt by every time he didn't hear her say it back. When he made it home before her, he'd clean up the house, sorting through bills and mail, and get dinner ready, giving himself just enough time to slip back into his steeled character by the time she came through the front door and ignored him. 

But, Harry had always told himself it could be much worse—he was still lucky in some senses of the word, even if some nights he had to search hard for those moments—, and right he was about that. He was currently living through the worst it had ever been, moping around the house and feeling more down on himself than he knew was healthy for the fragile grip he had on his composure. 

As anxiety inducing as it all was (was finding a job always this hard or was he really as unimpressive as Minerva said he was?), the free time did allow him to work on projects he'd pushed to the side in favor of his nine-to-five. The attic had been successfully cleaned out and reorganized for the first time since moving in, the walls in the basement finally painted the eggshell blue Minerva picked out years ago, and the garage was spic-and-span. The last couple of days, he'd dedicated his time to maintaining the garden out front as well as the backyard, something he'd found himself enjoying more than any of the previous items on the honey-do list he was working through. His mom had always loved gardening, so he felt a lot closer to home when he plodded through the soil with fresh sprouts. 

After spending the first hour of the morning sending out his resume to a fleet of job postings and rifling through his email in hopes of getting anything back about a possible interview, he got changed for his day in the sun. He picked a white tank top with red stitching on the side declaring him as loved (though he didn't always feel that way) to adorn his torso with a pair of black shorts covering his thighs though his knee tattoos were left on display. Pulling his hair back with a tiny clip that left a sprout of hair fluffed on the top of his head, Harry slipped on a pair of large burgundy sunglasses before heading out the front door. 

Headphones plugged in his ears, he grabbed his supplies he'd left on the porch, fitting his hands into the pair of sturdy gloves he'd dug out when he cleaned the garage. Along the porch railing was the row of flowers he planned on shoveling into the soil, their planters barely containing the rich blooms rooted inside. The furling petals brought a smile to his face as he got to his knees near the plot of yard that had previously been nothing other than mulch and dandelions. Maybe having a garden out front might sweeten Minerva's sour mood if he did it just right. 

Tucking into the soil with the tools he had to reach out to his mom to verify were the right ones for the job, Harry started planting his rose garden. Green bushes with barely there blooms began to line the porch, making the tiny, white picket railing seem that might brighter against the rich hues of the buds. He was lost in his head, humming along to the music playing through his headphones as he built his garden, lavender and candy floss pinks joining his roses as the perfect growing companions. 

He didn't know how long he'd been out under the sun until he heard the faint sound of a car running behind him, the thrumming earning a glance over his shoulder. For a split second, he'd worried it was Minerva, home early. He had a feeling she wouldn't be happy to see him tending to the garden, tending to something they could have just hired someone to take care of if he'd been smarter about his career path. Instead, it was the car of the not-so-new neighbor that had moved in next door less than a year ago. 

A smile stretched across his face as he peered at her concentrated face through the tint of her window, a furrow to her brow as she navigated parking in the driveway. A breath of relief slumped her shoulders when she did so without incident; Harry understood, he'd seen her patching dings on her car too many times to count since she'd moved in. A clumsy driver, she was.

Harry plucked out his earbud as he sat back on his heels while she rifled through her car for a moment longer before stepping out onto the driveway. A bright smile covered her features as soon as she matched Harry's gaze, lifting his spirits higher than they'd been all day. A bubbly wave tinkled her fingers. 

"Hi, Harry!" she chattered out, hiking her bag up her shoulder as she lingered on the concrete. 

"Hi, (Y/N)," he reciprocated, his voice coming out a lot dreamier than he anticipated. 

"Your garden looks really nice," she beamed at him, toeing the ground with her teeth sinking into the plush of her bottom lip.

"Yeah?" Harry asked, knowing his entire face lit up at the praise, "'M not done yet, but 'm really liking how it's turning out." 

"I'm excited to see what it looks like when you have it all together, then," she offered, edging towards the open garage to head inside, "I'll see you around, Harry." 

"Bye," he told her, his voice carrying along with her as she went out of view. 

His gaze lingered in the spot he swore he saw a phantom of her form still. Even at the sound of the garage door closing signaling he was well and truly alone, Harry could still feel the effects of her presence, no matter how minute the interaction was. Plugging his headphone back in his ear, he went back to his work though he barely made note of anything he was doing. 

He liked (Y/N). Probably more than he should. 

She was just so sweet, enough so that her attention could make Harry blush. Even the first time they met, he remembered wishing he could have spent more time with her as she flitted about the neighborhood block party. She was a wonderful neighbor, always so considerate even though her roommate was very partial to a late night party now that they'd finally moved into an actual house after a spread of dodgy apartments through their college and some post-grad years (he'd overheard that during the block party). Minerva never seemed to like her much, though. She called her nosy, always talking to their neighbors, and attention-seeking with the way she supposedly paraded around the subdivision in her workout gear while taking her roommate's dog for a walk. 

Harry couldn't disagree more when his wife went off on her dislike for their neighbor, but it was something he had to keep to himself. Minerva would have his head if he defended (Y/N) the way he wanted to—with more than a shrug and "she's not like that, honey". Besides, he worried that if he truthfully spoke about how good he felt she was, that his little crush on her would turn into something more troublesome. He already had too many things going on inside his house, he didn't need to add the guilt of something more than a small crush on a nice girl worming it's way into his head. 

And, he cared for Minerva, still. Right? If he didn't, he would have insisted on getting a divorce and wouldn't worry so hard about what would make her happy with him. (Y/N) was a constant, happy presence in his life, even if their interactions were spread apart and only lasting some minutes here and there. Of course, he would get attached to the pretty girl who spared him attention and gave him praise without a second-thought. That didn't mean anything, though.

Even with the way his heart skipped a beat at the thought of his neighbor, Harry reminded himself of his reality. He was a married man, someone who cared for his wife and would continue to be a good husband to her until he signed his name on the dotted line. (Y/N) would always be nothing more than a nice friend. That's all.

—————

Harry sighed as he sank to his knees in his garden. Looking at all of his hardwork, he felt his heart break when he recalled Minerva's attitude the night before. 

She hated it. 

A waste of his time, she'd said. How was he supposed to find a respectable job when he was too busy with dirt up to his elbows doing a job fit for 'the help'? He had been floored when he heard her, but snapped his mouth shut as soon as she rolled her eyes and stomped upstairs, disregarding the dinner he had set out on the table. 

Looking at the bushel of lavender that still needed to be planted as well as the border that needed to be filled with his candy floss pinks, Harry didn't feel the same joy he had the day before. He probably could be a lot more useful browsing the job sites, checking in on his network connections again. If he tried hard enough, dedicated himself enough, he would get a response, right? 

His only saving grace was the music playing through his headphones, pushing him out of his head and into whatever the writer was urging him to feel with every beat and sprawled lyric. Music was everything to Harry. Way back when, he even had dreams of becoming a songwriter, or producing tracks and working in a studio—anything to put him in the industry. But that was years ago, before he was married and had to stop being so selfish with his dreams. Minerva wanted something better for him, so he had to let that go. 

Concentrating on the notes that filtered through his headphones, Harry was finally pushed out of his head and back into the moment. He would finish the garden, then go inside and job hunt some more, he decided. 

The sun was especially warm on his back today, soaking into the black fabric of his t-shirt (a bad choice in hindsight, he realized as soon as he checked the high temperature on his phone). Sweat dripped from his hairline as he dug into the soft soil lining his front porch, following the line of his nose before dropping into the dirt. If he was lucky, he would beat out a sunburn and leave with a tan coloring his skin, but the more he soaked in the heat, Harry didn't feel good about his chances. 

By the time only a half of the candy floss had been planted along the border, the neckline of his top was drenched in sweat and Harry was running out of the motivation to finish his project. It wasn't until he felt a soft hand nudge at his shoulder did he look up from the flowers he was plotting in the ground. That definitely wasn't Minerva, he knew that much before looking over his shoulder. She never touched him that gently anymore. 

Sitting back on his heels, pushing his sunglasses into the mass of hair on the top of his head, Harry turned onto only to see (Y/N) clad in her workout gear with her arms cradling snacks. 

He was quick to pull his earbud from his ear, looking to her with a shaky smile he hoped didn't embarrass him any more than the sweaty state she'd caught him in. "H-Hi, (Y/N)." 

"Hey," she greeted him with a bubbly smile, warmer than the heat clouding the air, "Looking really good, Harry." 

His mouth went dry as he processed her words. "Wh-What?" 

"Your garden," she clarified, nudging her chin in the direction behind him, "It's looking really good. Almost done?" 

"Oh, yeah. Thank you," he blinked, rolling his lips between his teeth as he granted himself a reprieve of following her line of sight to his blooms. She made him so nervous it was hard to look at her. "Only a little more to go, so I should be finishing up today." 

"You've been at it all morning, I'm surprised you haven't passed out with how hot it is," (Y/N) continued, huffing out a laugh through a soft smile, "I just came back from walking my roommate's dog and made some snacks and lemonade, so I thought I'd come over and share, if you wanted any?"

Dropping his gaze to her hands, he found a paper plate with a bagel covered in cream cheese, and a handful of dried cranberries. In the crook of her elbow, a small, chilled water bottle was cradled. 

A smile crooked his lips as he gazed at her. 

Cute. 

"Thank you, (Y/N)," he said, twisting in his spot so he could properly face her, "Y'didn't have to." 

"It's alright," she beamed, offering him the refreshments with an outstretched hand, "I was already making my own, so I thought I'd make some for you, too." 

It was simple, what she brought out for him, but even just a single sip of the sugary lemonade was enough to have Harry's heart bloating. He couldn't remember the last time someone thought about him so considerately. 

"No, this is really kind of you, (Y/N)," he cemented, looking up at her from where he sat in his yard, trying his best to keep his gaze from going too soft, "Please, let me know if there's anything I can do for you, ever. You've been so nice to me ever since y'moved in, I want to pay y'back somehow." 

"Harry, really, it's alri—" 

"Humor me? Please?" She was giving him undeserved kindness, and he didn't want to take advantage of her.

The way her features softened as she looked down at him, hair messy on the top of her head and face glowing with the dew of a fresh workout, had Harry's heart clawing at his chest. She was looking at him like that. How lucky was he? 

"Alright, I'll let you know, okay? I'm sure something will come up soon enough; I don't know if you've noticed with the amount of times I've accidentally backed into my garage door, but I'm not great about not breaking things. Be prepared with the amount of help I'll be needing now that you've offered, Harry." Faux seriousness covered her features as she pointed an accusing finger at him, thought her facade was cracking with the curl of her lips and the soft set of her eyes. 

"I'll be ready, promise," he beamed up at her, pleased with the way she bit back her smile like she was afraid of how big it would grow if she didn't.

She lingered for a moment longer, her tender gaze dropping for her feet before she matched his gaze again. "I should probably get back to the dog—he doesn't like to be alone for long—, but, I'll come by if I need anything, Harry." 

"O-okay," he breathed out, catching a flutter in his heart at the sound of his name wrapped in her voice, "I'll be here." 

Her grin widened at his small joke as she edged back towards her home. With a little wave, she was on her way, Harry watching her the entire time. 

When he saw her twist to look over her shoulder, he felt silly for a moment to have been caught staring, but then she spoke: "Tell Minerva I said hi, too, please! I haven't seen her in so long!" 

It was the genuine smile on her face that had his heart dropping to his stomach. He kept quiet as he gave a confirming nod, waiting for her to disappear back inside her home before he dropped his gaze. 

She was a sweet, sweet, sweet girl who wanted him to say hello to his wife for her—the same woman that would smear mud across (Y/N)'s name at any given chance. She saw the best in everyone, even people who didn't deserve that rose-tinted view. She was much too good for him, he knew that much. Much too good to have a married man become infatuated with the idea of her. 

—————

Clicking out of his email, Harry ran a heavy hand through his hair. 

Nothing. Not a single response to all of his cover letters, tailored resumes, and followups. 

He knew in the grand scheme of things that four weeks really wasn't that long to be unemployed, but sitting in this house all day long, waiting for his wife to come home with whatever jeering remarks she stewed over all day, felt like years of torture. There wasn't anything else to fix up in the house that could distract him for hours on end; the gardens in both the front and back were planted and well maintained now, the garage still tidy, attic still clean and clear, and he'd even fixed that leaky faucet in the guest bathroom Minerva had been complaining about since they moved in. What else was there to do but marinate in his own short-comings and make himself go mad until it was time to make dinner?

Slumping into the couch cushions, Harry tried to distract himself by flicking on the television, hoping to find something to take his mind off of the replay of last night's silent dinner with Minerva. Sometimes he couldn't figure out what hurt more: her silence or her deprecating words that broke him down? 

Just as he found a daytime soap he remembered his mother tuning into, a quiet knock rang at the front door. He didn't make a move to answer it, assuming it was some delivery service dropping off something Minerva had ordered or a door-to-door solicitor that would be smart to get out of this neighborhood before one of the more haughty neighbors reamed him for doing his job. But, when another round of the soft rapping came, he dared to peek his head through the gauzy curtains and glimpse at the visitor. 

It was (Y/N). 

From the limited view he had, he could see the way she was glancing back and forth from his front door and to her house, toeing anxiously at the ground with her phone clutched in her hand. Today was her day off, he remembered that (don't ask him how, he knew it wasn't something he needed to remember but he couldn't help his memory), only emphasized by the comfy shorts she had on her legs and the large t-shirt that was much too cold to be wearing so early in the morning without a sweater. 

It was that one peek at her that had him rising from his spot on the couch and rushing towards the front door. By the time he twisted the locks and pulled the door open, (Y/N) was reluctantly stepping off the porch with her phone pressed to her ear. As soon as she saw Harry in the threshold, she ended her call with a sigh of relief.

"Harry," she breathed, hands falling to her sides, "I was so worried you were at work, or something." 

"Is everything alright? Are y'okay?" He didn't even realize he was scanning over her form for injuries until he met her gaze from where it had drawn down to her feet. 

"Yeah, yeah," she nodded, toeing at the ground as she glanced towards her house, "I just... You said you would be willing to help me if I needed anything, right?" 

"Yes, of course," he affirmed, a furrow pinching at his brows. 

"So," she started, looking guilty already, "I was about to go take a shower, but I think I broke it." 

"Broke what?" 

"The shower." 

Harry blinked. "What do you mean?" 

"Its..." she started again, scrunching her nose as she tried to find the words, "I don't know, it's just not working and I don't know what happened." 

"Okay," Harry said slowly, passing a hand through his hair as he stepped onto the porch, shutting the door behind him, "I'll take a look and see if I can help." 

"Thank you so much, Harry," (Y/N) babbled, relief touching at her features, "My roommate is going to kill me if I break one more thing in the house." 

"Yeah?" he pressed, a lopsided smile tugging at his lips with a dimple pressing into his cheek, "Have y'been breaking a lot of stuff then?" 

(Y/N) rolled her eyes as she started across the lawn with Harry following after. "I don't think so, but Mitch swears that I broke the panini press, the wifi-thing, the ice maker, and I somehow, apparently, fucked up the coffee table, or something. I think he's just dramatic and doesn't pay attention when he's using things, but whatever."

A smile bloomed across his features as he listened to her list off every appliance and piece of furniture that could be in a house. Now, including a shower (whatever that exactly meant) on that list. 

Humming, he nodded his head, "Do y'think he breaks it and tries to blame it on you, or something?" Harry wouldn't like that. (Y/N) didn't deserve a roommate like that. 

"No," she waved off, pushing open the unlocked front door before letting Harry in ahead of her, "he's not like that. I just think some of the things we have are old, so of course they stop working or break, and he knows he didn't do it so he thinks it's me. But, I think it's just the universe." 

"I see," Harry smiled, stepping into her home. 

While it was a shared space, he could still spot the (Y/N)-esque touches littered throughout the living room; a soft knitted blanket in creamy tones thrown across the back of the deep green couch, a bookcase spotted with novels he'd heard her reference to her friends in the neighborhood along with little crystals and delicate trinkets, and photos framed on the wall with her beaming smile lighting up the setting. Everything looked worn and loved, handed down from relatives or second-hand shops—nothing at all like the stiff decor and furniture that Minerva had picked out from a catalogue exactly as it was. It looked like a home. 

"It's the upstairs bathroom, if you wanted to follow me," (Y/N) explained, stopping him from wandering out into the space to see what it would feel like to wrap himself in things that were (Y/N). 

"Right, the shower," he murmured under his breath, trailing behind her, "What exactly happened?" 

An exasperated shrug of (Y/N)'s shoulders was the view he was granted a couple of steps behind, "I don't know. I got all my stuff ready to take my shower, and I was waiting for the water to warm up and when I pulled the thing to make it come out of the shower head and not the faucet, it just... didn't work." 

She took him to the bathroom in question, opening the door to the brightly lit and femininely decorated bathroom (her own personal one, he'd assume) with the remnants of steam still touching the top of the mirror. 

"Watch this." She beckoned to him, settling on her knees on the tiled floor. Twisting the knob on the temperature control, water started streaming through the faucet and splashing across the tub. She paused for a moment as if to ensure Harry was properly watching before she reached across and pulled the pin at the top of the faucet, the same one that should redirect the water flow up to the shower head. The second it was pulled, there was a sputtering of water flowing for a moment longer before only a single bead fell from the shower head. The faucet stopped leaking, leaving the water to go down the drain before the shower was dry, none of the outlets dispensing. 

"Huh," Harry breathed, gaze drifting back and forth between the faucet and the shower head as if either one would explode at a moment's notice with all the water pent up. 

"Right?" 

"It just started acting weird today?" he asked, reaching into the bathtub and pulling on the pin again. The same result: silence and dryness. 

"Yeah, it was perfectly fine last night. And everything else like the sink, and the kitchen, and Mitch's bathroom are all working. It's just the shower." 

Harry tested it out for a few minutes, (Y/N)'s eyes following him as he tinkered with the knob controlling the pressure and temperature, the pin, and the shower head itself. Nothing changed as he poked and prodded, a furrow pinching his brow. 

"Do you know where your water heater is?" he asked, looking over his shoulder to her as he twisted the knob to off. 

Pausing when he saw the way she was sat so prettily behind him, Harry suddenly felt flush under her attention. He had felt the warmth of her gaze the whole time as he worked and messed around with the appliance, but it was different seeing her with wide eyes looking up at him with her legs tucked carefully under her body. Even with her messy hair and ill-fitting clothes, Harry swore for a moment she was surrounded by starlight and puffs of cotton candy clouds—a dream on earth. 

His heart skipped a beat with butterflies filling his tummy. Since when was he this far gone? 

A loud thud sounded from the floors below, the only thing that shook Harry from whatever was running through his head that only jumbled the second he remembered this was (Y/N) who was gazing up at him like that. 

"(Y/N)?" he stuttered over her name, his arms dropping limply at his sides.

The call of her name brought focus to her eyes. "Hm?" she hummed, with with a flutter of her lashes. 

"D-Do you know where your water heater is?" he tried again, running a nervous finger under the tip of his nose. 

"Oh, yeah. Sorry," she breathed out on a laugh, rising to her shaky legs, "It's in the basement."

They were quiet as Harry followed her on an impromptu tour of the house, down the two floors to the chilled basement. It was when she reached the landing did she stop in her tracks with a gasp. It took him only a second to peer around her shoulder and find the cause of her widened eyes and fists clutched to her chest. 

The concrete floor of the space was covered in a shallow pool of water. Some spaces the level was lower than others, but there was definitely enough water covering the floor to account for what hadn't been streaming through the shower upstairs. 

"Shit," Harry whispered, spotting the pack of boxes pushed into the very corner of the basement, the bottom row slowly taking on water.

"Those are Mitch's things," she rushed out, following his line of sight, "I need to get them upstairs before anything gets messed up." 

(Y/N) didn't falter after that, splashing through the water with her bare feet. Harry went to follow her, only to have to step out of the way as she was on her way back with a box stacked in her arms. 

"D-Do y'want help?" The question felt a little dumb leaving Harry's mouth, but he didn't want to start rummaging around if she would prefer he stand back.

"Would you, please?" (Y/N) asked from halfway up the stairs, "Thank you so much, Harry." 

Hearing that strain in her voice was all he needed before he was setting off to help her pick up the boxes, trudge through the water and up the steep stairs. By the time there was nothing more than the last few boxes, the bottoms all soaked in the leaked water, he was out of breath but (Y/N) looked a little less stressed. Only a little. 

"Thanks," she panted out again once all of her roommates things were safely tucked away on dry land. Her eyes fluttered closed before she ran a heavy hand over her features, the heels of her palms pressing into her eyes. "I think Mitch is really going to kill me for this one. I don't even know what happened." 

Hands on his hips, Harry remembered the shimmering lake that had taken over the level below. "I don't either, love, but you're going to need to call someone to fix it. 'M sure something is blocked." 

"Probably," she sighed, eyes focusing on a random spot by her feet as she pinched at her lips, "H-How do I get the water out of the basement, though?" 

"Jus' gonna have to mop it up, and use some towels, I think. 'S not a lot, so it shouldn't be too bad." 

"Yeah," she breathed out again, focus coming back to her gaze as it flitted up to return Harry's. "I'm so sorry to ask, but would you be able to help? Even just for a lit—"

"Yeah, of course I can help." A heat touched at his cheeks as he realized just how eagerly he had offered up his help. But, with the way (Y/N) lit up at his agreement to help, he didn't really mind how silly he sounded. 

"Thank you, thank you, thank you. So much, Harry," she beamed at him, already seeming to have more life in her as she toed towards the stairs leading her up a level, "I'll go grab some towels, but the mop is in the kitchen, over there, if you can get that. I'll be right back. Thank you so much!" 

It was with a scuttle of her feet and a twist of her hair fluttering behind her that she disappeared up the staircase. Harry's gaze followed after her for a moment longer, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip as he felt a smile coming on. 

—————

"Did you always want to do accounting?" 

(Y/N)'s question echoed in the empty basement, sounding over the slopping sound of the mop in Harry's hands sopping up the water that didn't seem to have an end. He shrugged, having expected this question when they started talking about their career-paths (apparently, (Y/N) wanted to be a writer, but she was currently working retail so she could pay the bills in the meantime). 

"Not really," he answered honestly, wringing out the mop into the accompanying bucket that was just under half full at this point, "I actually wanted to get into music, but this seemed more practical." 

"Music?" (Y/N) perked up, wringing out a soaked towel before opting for the slightly drier ones as she worked on her hands and knees, "Like as a singer?" 

A smile plucked at Harry's features at the enthusiasm in her voice. He couldn't remember the last time someone sounded genuinely excited at the idea of learning more about him. 

"Maybe if I felt right, but mostly songwriting and producing. I liked the idea of being in one of those big studios, you know?" The images he'd had of his life when he was young flashed through his head. His heart almost broke at how easily it was to conjure up those pictures despite how long it'd been since he allowed himself to indulge in those what-ifs.

"Did you write a lot of songs then? Anything I might have heard?" (Y/N) wasn't even working anymore, that much Harry could tell when he peeked at her through his lashes. She was sitting back on her heels listening to him, attention rapt and unwavering. 

"No, I never really made music. Everything I've ever written is packed away in some journal in m'attic. I haven't seen it since university, I think." That was a little bit of a lie, if he was being honest. He'd seen it when he was reorganizing the attic space and moving things around. He just didn't have the guts to open it.

He could hear the pout in her voice as she humphed. "That's a bummer. I would have loved to read what you wanted to put to music," she mused, "If you ever find it, would you let me read some of it?" 

Against his will, a memory of him shoving his book into Minerva's hands, asking her to read his latest work—one that was inspired by her—before she refused, not wanting to read any of what his silly hobby spawned. It was a waste, she had told him in her own way; music wasn't a stable job and he needed to wake up before it was too late and he'd sung them into living in a cardboard box. 

Harry made quick work of shoving that thought to the side, inserting himself into the moment with (Y/N) once more. It was the glimmer in her eyes, the smile on her lips, and the fact she asked to read his art that had him answering in a heartbeat. "Of course. You'll be the first person I call." 

The creases that lined her face as her smile grew was enough to wipe those awful moments with Minerva away like the water he was sopping off the floor. Speaking around her smile, she dropped her gaze to the towel in her hands, "So—um—if you wanted to be a songwriter, why did you end up going into accounting? That's a huge field change." 

"Yeah," he sighed, plucking at his bottom lip for a moment of comfort, "Um, she—sorry, Minerva, she thought it would be a better idea to go into something like finance. More stable and real than music." 

"Oh," (Y/N) sounded, voice neutral though he could see her features scrunch up some, "I can see that a little, I guess. Did she ever help you write or anything like that?" 

"Not really. It wasn't something she thought was..." Harry floundered as he remembered all the things she called his songwriting (not worth her time, stupid, an excuse to not find a real job, ect.). Those probably weren't the kind of things to dump on his neighbor. "It was jus' hard for her to get into it the way I did. I usually did all of it alone." 

"Well," she started, a slight pinch lingering in her brows as she crawled to the next section of floor, "I'm sure if she could have helped, she would have." 

Harry didn't have the heart to tell her otherwise. 

"Yeah, but what about you, hm?" he switched, wringing out the mop once more, "What kind best-seller are y'drafting?" 

It seemed that was the perfect question to ask her as she shot into an explantation of the creative writing class she had taken in college and the idea of a narrative that never quite left her (of course only after she rolled her eyes at his best-seller comment. I haven't even finished a single chapter, Harry, she told him though the smile she was biting back still bled into her features). He was wrapped up solidly in the world she was painting for him, even when she shyly brought up the romantic aspects as she was most excited about adding. 

Despite the water seeping through his Vans and chilling him from his toes up, Harry swore he could have stayed in that basement all day long hearing her talk about the things she loved. 

What a privilege that would be.

—————

Minerva didn't even bother to wake Harry up before she was off to work this morning, only leaving a note tacked to the fridge about the shopping that needed to be done today and that she would be home late due to after-work drinks with some of her colleagues. He wasn't all that surprised at that. She seemed to prefer to spend any time she could away from him, no matter where it was.

At least, he had a task that would take up some of the morning and direct his mind off of the sourness that was filling his lungs every time he thought about Minerva. 

Taking his time to clean up after the breakfast his wife made for herself before her day at work, Harry didn't leave for grocery shopping until late in the morning. Armed with Minerva's list as well as the mental one he'd developed after spending so much time at home and in charge of meals, he plucked a trolley and started off through the shelves. 

The store was luckily fairly empty given the time of day he was waltzing through the aisles, and Harry couldn't be more grateful for the chance to move at his own pace. He was feeling particularly slothly today, sluggish limbs and tired eyes, so at least he wasn't being pushed around and feeling rushed to get out of there as soon as he could. He marked off every item he grabbed from the shelves as he went, putting together a menu for the rest of the week. 

It wasn't until he was armed with the ingredients to Minerva's favorite pad Thai recipe—one she probably wasn't even going to eat, he pessimistically decided—that he ran into another's cart. 

"Oh gosh—" 

"I'm sorry—" 

The second he saw who he had accidentally bumped into, every bit of exhaustion evaporated from his limbs. 

(Y/N)'s expression cleared up just the same, the apology on her lips falling away in favor of wrapping her voice around his name. "Hi," she greeted him, "Fancy seeing you here." 

"Yeah, sorry about that," he told her, sounding much too chipper for an apology, "Wasn't watching where I was going." 

"It's alright, I'm happy it was you," she cemented, parking her cart on the other side of the aisle from him, settling in, "How are you?" 

"'M good, thank you," he smiled, "How's your shower and everything? Did that guy end up making it out there?" 

"Yeah, he came a little after you left," she sighed, shaking her head as if recalling the memory made her just as exasperated as she was in real time, "It was so stupid. I don't even know what it was that was blocking my shower, but something was blocking that specific channel so every time I turned it on and tried to get water to come out, I was breaking something else and flooding the basement. I feel like he was being a jerk, but Mitch says that I was probably just in a bad mood." 

Harry shrugged, biting back a smile though he was sure his dimple still poked through. Maybe she was in a bad mood—he wouldn't blame her—, but she hadn't been in one by the time he left. If he really let his heart run away from him, he'd let himself imagine he had been the one to keep her happy.

"At least he got it fixed, right?" he tried, leaning his forearms into the seat of the trolley, chin resting on his fist. 

"Yeah," she smiled, apparently forgetting the supposed attitude she was given, "I got to wash my hair afterwards, so that was nice." He watched as her gaze dropped to the contents of his cart, eyes lighting up when she caught sight of something to pique her interest. "Where did you find that pizza dough? Mitch and I keep ordering out for pizza so I was trying to get stuff to make it ourselves instead." 

An apologetic smile curled his lips before she even finished speaking. "It's over by the cheese counter, but I did grab the last couple. 'M sorry, (Y/N)." 

The second he watched her deflate, the makings of a pout itching at her lips, Harry couldn't help himself. He just wanted to see her smile again. 

"I was planning on using them for lunch today, but, if y'want, y'can come over and-and try it with me? I haven't tried this one before either, so if y'like it, y'can take some home." 

He could barely hear his own voice over the sound of his heartbeat as he allowed his mouth to run ahead of him. 

(Y/N) hesitated from where she stood in front of him, the blunt edges of her teeth sinking into her bottom lip. With a flutter of her lashes, she returned his gaze. "Are you sure? I can just get some next time, it's alright." 

Swallowing, he saw the way out she was giving him, but he found himself wanting to stay just where he'd put himself. 

"'M sure," he cemented, surprised by how lightweight the words felt, "I was going to eat by myself anyway, so at least we could talk a little." 

A beat passed before she offered him a sweet smile and a nod of her head. "Alright. I still have some more shopping to do, but when I'm home, I could come by? As long as you're alright with waiting for me." 

Harry didn't need to think before he was nodding his head. 

Of course he would wait for her.

—————

Was this cheating? 

Harry's chest constricted at the thought. 

He wasn't a cheater, was he?

All he'd done was invite a friend over for lunch and to talk, just as they'd done before. He'd ran into her at the supermarket and asked if she wanted to share some of the food he was planning on making anyway, especially as she was only a door down. That's not cheating, right? 

No, he told himself. They hadn't even touched outside of passing each other when they were lugging up her roommate's belongings upstairs, let alone kiss or go further. And nothing they'd talked about had verged into romantic territory, not even for a second. He talked to her like he would talk to a friend. He'd had female friends before—before Minerva, of course—and this was how he would treat any of them. He would even argue he's held her at a larger distance away, especially since he was married. 

Just because he thought his friend was pretty, didn't mean he was cheating. 

Minerva even knew about he extra time here and there he was spending with (Y/N), though she definitely scoffed and made faces whenever he spoke her name. If he was doing something wrong, he wouldn't have told Minerva anything, right?

Harry couldn't calm his spinning mind as he put away his groceries, spiraling out of control as he contemplated turning (Y/N) away when she came to the door—with all the ingredients for a pizza to make at her own home. But, as much as he was worried about the blurry line he was approaching, he didn't want to say no to her and make her leave. He didn't want the sunshine that was leaking into his life courtesy of his neighbor to become shrouded by clouds once again. 

It was an innocent friendship, and if Harry couldn't handle himself, he would stop it. He vowed to himself that if he came to a point where he was worried he wouldn't be able to not cross into the shades of grey safely, then he would end it. Because he was someone's husband before he was someone's friend. 

It wasn't until he heard a knock on the front door that Harry's frantic hands came to a sputtering halt. Bracing his hands on the edge of the counter where he stood in front of the ingredients for his pizza project, he took a steadying breath. He centered himself for one more moment before going to the door to let his friend in. 

(Y/N) greeted him with a bright smile when he swung the door open. "Hi, stranger," she bubbled, hands folded in front of her dressed in the same comfy set he'd found her in at the grocery. 

"Hi," he greeted her, feeling the stretch of his grin as he took her in. 

Even as he widened the berth of the door, clearing way for her to pass through, (Y/N) nervously toed the porch, eyes giving way to a tinge of anxiety he'd never seen there before. A pinch drew his brows together as he watched her. 

"You're still hungry, right?" he prodded, giving her an out if she decided she would rather be at home. 

His question seemed to shake her from wherever she had crawled to in her head. "Y-Yeah, sorry," she brushed off with a smile, stepping over the threshold and into his home, "I just realized I've never been inside your house before." 

"That's right, huh," he said, smile going lopsided with only a single dimple in his cheek, "Busy couple of weeks for us, then, right? Packing a whole lot of basic friendship things into a few days." 

Harry knew he uttered the word friendship for his benefit only, feeling stiff as it passed his lips. Because this was what this all was. Friends went to each other's houses, and got to know each other through quality time. Nothing nefarious or wrong about that. 

"We've been neighbors for almost a year, and I think I just learned your last name," (Y/N) laughed, waiting for him as he locked the front door before starting off towards the kitchen with her behind him. 

"That's what happens when y'wait to break your shower so y'can invite me over," Harry shrugged, looking over his shoulder with a smug smile on his lips. 

(Y/N) only rolled her eyes, and shook her head as they entered the kitchen. Harry's set up was just as he'd left it: dough rolled out and floured, his favorite pizza sauce set off to the side with every fix-in delegated to different bowls and packages for easing picking. She followed after him with a light to her eyes, taking in the station he'd set up for them. 

"I didn't know what y'might want to put on it, so I jus' got everything out," he explained, starting to feel a little sheepish over the amount of effort he put into his friend's meal. 

"Thank you, Harry," she smiled at him, standing in front of one of the two slabs of rolled out dough, "This is perfect. You're so nice." 

He had to pretend that his heart didn't flutter some at the gentle compliment she gave him. 

Smiling down at his hands, Harry turned towards the sink to wash up before starting to assemble the food so she didn't see the flush he was sure was pricking the tip of his nose. 

Once she'd followed the same procedure before returning to her station, Harry finally chanced a look at her where she stood with expecting eyes. Yeah, she was still pretty.

"Ready?" he murmured, swallowing around the word. 

"Ready." 

—————

"So, you didn't even actually work in the bakery? You did that on purpose, didn't you? So I would be lulled into a sense of trust even though you were only winging it on the bake time for the pizza." 

Harry shrugged his shoulders as he listened to (Y/N)'s very true accusations. There had been something of a squabble over the bake time and temperature, as (Y/N) had supposedly googled the best combination of how long to let them sit under the heat and just how high the dial needed to be twisted while Harry swore by his own method. A wicked smile had curled his lips when he brought out the best end to the argument: his so-called experience.

"You're the worst," she challenged, shaking her head when she saw the quirking of his lips, "You just didn't want me to be right." 

"They turned out jus' fine, didn't they?" Harry countered, jutting his chin out in playful defiance.

(Y/N) muttered out a muted whatever, though the flutter of her lashes and sparkle in her eyes didn't diminish to go along with her faux-attitude.  

A warm silence settled within the dining room as they each took bites of their food, Harry unable to stop himself from looking at her through his lashes. He swore he even caught her drawing her eyes away at the last second during one of his peeks. 

"I hope this doesn't come out wrong," (Y/N) broke the silence, wiping her mouth of the pizza sauce that had collected on the corner, "but, I'm kind of happy you're not working right now. We've actually gotten to get to know each other now that you've been home." 

Looking at her, moony eyes with fluttery lashes and dewy skin glimmering in the sunlight leaking through the windows, Harry wanted to kiss her. That scared him. 

While it might not have been the first time he thought about what it would be like to kiss (Y/N), it had previously always been in the abstract, someone in his place before the fleeting thought was out of his head in a blink. But, this time... this time was it's own beast that has Harry's heart rattling against his ribcage like a criminal in a jail cell.

This time, he had a solid vision of himself, reaching across the dining table he had dinner with his wife at, fitting his hand around the back of (Y/N)'s neck—wedding band and all—before slotting his lips against hers. She was happy she'd had a chance to get to know him, and that was something he hadn't realized he'd ever wanted to hear.

And, that scared him. This was cheating, wasn't it? Married men don't think about kissing other women like that. They don't look across the table and try to pick out the glimmers in their neighbor's eyes, or wonder how soft her lips would be, or wish they could tuck their face into her neck and see if she really smelled like strawberry poundcake like the lotion on her bathroom counter suggested. Married men shouldn't do that. 

Harry swallowed thickly, dropping his gaze to his unfinished slice of misshapen pizza. 

"Is everything okay?" (Y/N) broached, speaking to him as if he were an injured animal, "I didn't mean to make you upset about work. I shouldn't have said it lik—" 

"No, no," Harry shook his head, a stray curl landing across his forehead, "'S not that, don't worry. I know what y'were trying to say." 

"Okay," (Y/N) sounded, the syllables coming out quietly as she placed her pizza down, "Is something else wrong then?" 

How was he supposed to explain to her that he crossed into territory that was too blurry to be safe for him—the one with the wedding band on his finger? She had no idea of what was running through his head as she spoke, the way his heart skipped a beat when she gave him attention he hadn't even known he'd been craving since she approached him in the garden weeks ago. At this pace, he was ruining two relationships at once: his marriage to Minerva and his friendship with (Y/N). 

"(Y/N), I..." he started, unable to think clearly with the way his heart crawled up into his throat. Was there an eloquent way to tell someone you can't see them anymore because you fear you might cheat on your spouse if you became any closer? Was there ever a good time to confess to having feelings for another woman while also cutting them off? 

"Harry," (Y/N) murmured, "you're worrying me. Can you at least tell me if you're alright?" 

"I d-don't know, (Y/N)," he sighed, dropping his head into his hands that were propped up on elbows pinned to the table, "I don't—It might—... I think I might need to take a step back from you." 

Silence fell over the room once more, this time lacking the warmth that it had been filled with less than ten minutes prior.

"I... don't think I understand," she responded, sounding stiff. 

Harry shook his head in his hands, his hair fluffing around his face. "I don't think it's a good idea for us to see each other anymore, es-especially alone like this." 

Heat crawled up his features, starting at the base of his neck as he choked out the words. He couldn't even look at her, but he could fantasize about cheating on his wife with her? 

"Um, okay," (Y/N) said after a beat, words stilted, "I understand. May I ask why, though? Because if it was something I did, I want to apologize at least." 

He shook his head as she spoke. None of this was her fault. Never was an apology from her lips needed over this situation. He dared to peek up at her through the cage of his fingers, finding her with her gaze downcast and shoulders deflated. 

His tongue felt thick as he tried to speak around it, dry throat not helping any. He floundered over the honesty he knew he owed her. "It's jus'... 'M married and all, you know?" 

The pieces seemingly clicked together for (Y/N) without any extra explanation. She gave a slow nod of her head. "Right. I'm sorry if I crossed any boundaries, or anything. I didn't mean to." 

Before he could offer any consolation, tell her that the fault was all his own and she'd been nothing more than the sunshine he'd been aching for since he found himself on a clouded shore, but she was quick to pushed away from the dining table. She offered a polite thank you for lunch, before she was out of the house in record time; the sound of the door shutting behind her lingered longer than she did. 

Scrunching his eyes tightly, Harry couldn't help but dig the pads of his fingers into the soft skin of his eyelids. "Fuck," he whispered to himself in the empty house. In a burst of frustration at the feeling of tears filling his eyes as if he had earned the right to be upset over the entire situation, he slammed his fists onto the table. The china rattled on the surface, only joining in with the ruckus of the loud Fuck! he screamed into the void of his home. 

Slumping back into his chair, Harry stared up at the ceiling for who knows how long until he felt a nerve in the muscles pinch over the position. A labored breath was all he managed to pull into his lungs as he looked over the state of his home. 

He needed to clean up before Minerva came home.

—————

Harry pushed the pad Thai around in his bowl, chopsticks making a dull scraping sound against the porcelain. Minerva—surprisingly home for dinner, which he hadn't been anticipating—had her eyes glued to her phone with a curl to her lips. The house was filled with silence just the way it had been for the last week and a half since Harry brought on his own heartache. 

Since (Y/N) walked out, Harry hadn't been able to get her off his mind. 

Nothing had been the same since the sound of the door slamming after her reverberated through the house. He swore that a part of his heart walked right out after her, trailing behind the home it had been trying to make in the warmth of her. He lied awake that night, wallowing in the mistake he'd made on two women in his life he was supposed to care about and protect. He'd failed on both fronts. 

But, even after he cut himself off from the wallowing—he determined he didn't deserve more than a couple of days since this was all his doing—he found an ache lingering in his bones and a fog clouding his brain. He didn't want to eat, barely made sure he drank some water each day, and wanted nothing more than to hole himself up in the master bedroom though he never managed to actually sleep. If he wasn't distracted enough, his mind would wander too far away, waking up things he'd rather stay asleep. 

He could only recall feeling like this once before: when Minerva had changed, making it very clear she was no longer invested in him or their relationship. 

He was broken-hearted. Over losing (Y/N). 

Maybe he had more than a silly crush on her like he had thought. He found himself wondering in the aftermath if she was alright. Was she blaming herself? Was she keeping busy with her roommate? Was she taking care of herself? It only worried him when he saw her roommate walking the dog around the neighborhood, something that seemed to be (Y/N) job exclusively before this. When he told Minerva that (Y/N) wouldn't be hanging around much anymore, he remembered how angry he became when she laughed, the noise cruel, and said something about how it was about time she'd run off. 

How dare she? he recalled thinking. (Y/N) had never once said a single bad word about her, and yet Minerva couldn't even spare a question on why she wouldn't be over anymore or if something had happened. He'd shared the fact he'd made a real friend for the first time in years, and she didn't bother to ask what would be the cause of the separation, even going so far as to rub it in his face with an I-told-you-so-esque comment? Who was this person he had married?

But, in the end, (Y/N) sat at the forefront of his mind, stealing any selfish thought and reminding him of the real innocent in this situation. She deserved better. 

His feelings for her had been a lot more real than he even realized. If he had known, he liked to think things would have turned out differently for them. 

Holding back a sigh, Harry pinched a bean sprout between his chopsticks as he slumped over the table with his chin in his hands. 

"I heard back from that auto-body place I told you about," Harry offered, filling the silence with his raw voice. Minerva didn't even look up.

"Hm?" 

"That job I applied for—bookkeeping at that auto-body place just out of town. They emailed me back; I have a phone interview with them tomorrow," he shared, hoping the good news would at least make her happy. Maybe, that would be enough to get him out of his head, the static of the house surely not helping him feel normal. 

"Oh," Minerva sounded, a sour expression pinching her features, "You actually applied there? I thought I told you it sounded gross." 

Rolling his neck, he swallowed. "I know, but work is work and that's what I need right now. I can keep looking even if they hire me, I jus' need something right now." 

A roll of her hazel eyes was granted in response to his words. "It's like you don't even listen to me. Sure, you're unemployed, but do you not think it would look worse for you to work at some greasy mechanic? Harry, it's gross, and you would know that if you ever actually listened to me." 

Her biting words touched a nerve Harry didn't even know had been exposed. 

"I listen to you all the time, Minerva," he grumbled, voice low and controlled. His heart pounded in his ears, the sound rising from his chest.

She scoffed at his retort, her phone finally dropping from her hand as she sat up straight in her seat. "Excuse me?" 

"I said," he breathed, tempering himself before he raised his voice, "I always listen to you. Jus' like how I listened to you when y'said I wasn't trying hard enough and thinking too much of myself and not applying to jobs on my level. So, I broadened my search—like you asked—and found this place that would pay nicely and might appreciate what I could bring."

"Oh, now you're just blaming me, like it's my fault you couldn't find anything other than some slum to hire you. Stop being a dick, and just listen to wh—" 

"I am listening! I have listened for the last seven years! And, I don't want to listen anymore, Minerva!" 

It was like the universe knew about the changing tide, a sudden clash of thunder echoing outside that ramped up the storm that had been brewing in the clouds. The second the sky settled, Harry realized the tone and volume of his words and the fact Minerva hadn't said a single thing back, already feeling guilt in his system. 

"I shouldn't have shouted at you, 'm sorry, M—" 

"This is about her, isn't it? 

Harry was taken aback at the accusing tone of voice she used on him. Flicking his gaze between her eyes, he found the anger that had been brewing in her silence. She hadn't been scared or upset that he'd raised his voice—no, she was trying to find the best way to one-up him. 

"Who?" 

"The fucking neighbor you're so obsessed with. This is about her, isn't it? She's been telling you I'm the bad guy for wanting you to get a good job, is that it?" 

Stinging offense touched at Harry's chest. "This has nothing to do with (Y/N), leave her out of this, Minerva. She's never said a bad thing about you, you know that? When all you do is shit on her for no other reason than the fact she exists." 

"I have reason, Harry," she spat, leaning over the table as he voice grew, "Like the fact that my husband eye-fucks her every time she's around! Did you really think I didn't fucking notice?!" 

"'S not like that, Minerva, and you know it." Harry slid his hands into his hair, tugging at the roots in frustration. "Why would you even care, anyway? 'S not like you even like me anymore." 

"Because you're my husband. You are mine, until I decide otherwise. Then you can sleep around with every girl you see—but until then, you have to listen to me." 

Harry didn't even realize a sheen had collected over his eyes, tears in his waterline as he just realized just how trapped he was in that moment, not until Minerva pointed it out to him. 

"Are you really about to cry, right now?" 

"I know you're cheating on me." 

The words slipped past his lips before he even realized they were on the tip of his tongue. He'd barely let himself think about what Minerva was really up to those nights she was getting drinks, or staying late to finish a project, let alone speak them aloud. But now, there they were. In the static silence of the dining room, he was tired of pretending and listening and hoping. 

Minerva seemed to be floored for a second, floundering over her words. "Don't try to turn this on me, Harry—" 

"I do your laundry, you know" he sighed, exhausted now that the biggest weight had left his chest, "I've seen what you wear those nights you're supposedly at the office until one in the morning." 

"Oh, so now I can't wear sexy underwear without your permission—" 

"And, remember when you insisted I share my location with you? Even went through my phone and did it all when I was in the bathroom." Harry swallowed at the memory, but he felt numb to the panic that began to rise in Minerva's eyes. "But, I can see your location, too. I know you're not at the office or whatever bar you pretend to get drinks at when you don't come home." 

She was stock still for a moment before Minerva crossed her arms heavily over her chest, slumping back into her chair. "Okay, and?" she spat, rolling her eyes as if this were another petty argument, "It's not like we haven't been over for years—sorry I wanted to feel loved for once." 

Harry didn't even pay her jabs any mind. None of this mattered anymore to his battered heart. 

"I want a divorce." 

"Harry, we've talked about this. It's no—" 

"I don't care about your job. I want a divorce." 

Venom filled her eyes as she locked her gaze on him.

"You only want this now that you have your little whore next door, isn't it? Yo—" 

"Minerva, please," he heaved, exasperated as his hands fell limp into his lap his neck rolling back to pin his gaze to the ceiling, "Why can't we just be happy? That's all I want. We get a divorce, and you can feel loved by whoever you want and I can get the fuck out of this house." 

Harry didn't look at her even as he heard the sound of her chair scraping against the hardwood floor. "Fucking fine, Harry," she spat his name out like bile, "Get the papers and I'll sign them—no contest, or whatever makes this fastest. But if you want to get out of this fucking house so bad, you can start tonight. Find somewhere else to sleep, asshole." 

With that, his soon-to-be ex-wife stomped upstairs, slamming the master bedroom door hard enough he was sure that his wedding photos would have fallen from the walls had this been a movie. The sickly silent house was filled with the sound of the pelting rain from outside, the interior lit up by lightning strikes and shook by the pounds of thunder. 

He needed to get out of here. 

It was as if he was on autopilot as he moved through the kitchen and out the front door with nothing more than his phone and keys. He didn't even realize where he was going until he was dripping wet with rain soaking him to the bone on (Y/N)'s door step.

He must have missed knocking on her door because he was surprised when he saw the door open wide with (Y/N) standing in her pajamas, concerned etched all over her face with his name forming on her lips.

"I'm getting a divorce." 

(Y/N)'s eyes widened as he cut her off, taking in the rain-sodden man. The water dripping from his hair onto the stained wood of her porch mimicked the watery gaze he stared at her with. 

"Harry, you didn't because of m—" 

"No, no," he swallowed, his mouth working faster than his brain, "No, it's not-not because of you. I should have done this a long time ago, I just let her decide everything for me even if I hated it. You-You made me re-real again. I couldn't stay with her knowing I could be happy again somewhere—somewhere that wasn't with her." 

He watched through bleary eyes as her shoulders raised with a deep breath before she reached out to him. 

"Come inside, you're going to get sick," she murmured, a sad smile on her features that shouldn't have tugged at his heartstrings. 

Taking wooden steps, the cold finally registering on his skin now that the option of warmth was presented in her home as he crossed the threshold. Water dripped onto the hardwood that was identical to what was next door, but felt completely different in a space that actually knew happiness. A man was sat on the couch, long dark hair falling over his shoulder with a pinched mouth and wide eyes taking in the new visitor. 

"Harry," (Y/N) said, stepping around him once the door was locked and closed, "this is my roommate, Mitch. Mitch, this is Harry... our neighbor." 

Mitch nodded his head, rolling his lips between his teeth before he straightened up from his slumped position. "Nice to meet you," he smiled politely before his eyes slid to (Y/N), "I'm gonna go to my room, so if you need anything, just let me know." 

Harry stood with his arms crossed over his chest as they stood, seemingly waiting for the click of Mitch's bedroom door before (Y/N) unfroze. "Um," she mumbled, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear as she met Harry's gaze, "I'm gonna go grab you some clothes to wear while we wash your stuff. Just... wait right here, but I'll be right back."

(Y/N) lingered for a moment longer, placing a gentle hand on his arm to go along with her softened features before she was padding up the stairs. It could have been two minutes or two years that it took (Y/N) to return from her search, but Harry had no idea about the difference. He only took note of her soft hands urging him towards the bathroom, a set of oversized clothing tucked into his arms she told him was her brother's. He wouldn't mind if Harry borrowed them, she assured him. 

Maybe it was the cold or the shock that lingered in his system that kept his joints stiff as he dressed. Once his wet clothes were nothing more than a puddle on the titled floor, heavy and thick with the new set cozied to his form, a hair too big, Harry stopped. With his hands braced on the lip of the counter, he spared himself a glance in the mirror. 

Bloodshot, glistening eyes. Wet, dark hair that lost its curl to the weight of the water. Ruddy cheeks. Swollen lips. He looked a mess. 

But, Harry couldn't remember himself ever looking so relieved. 

He carefully gathered his clothes into his arms, ensuring he didn't dampen his borrowed clothing as he exited the bathroom. (Y/N) was there in an instant, having been waiting just outside the door with a softened smile on her features as she offered to take his clothes, already grabbing for them before he'd even relinquished them. 

It wasn't until she returned from the laundry room, telling him something about the detergent, that Harry realized he was crying. Only because (Y/N) had pointed it out with a short gasp, hands instinctively reaching for him before she bundled them together at her chest. 

"Oh, Harry," she cooed, "I'm so sorry. I can't even imagine what you're going through—" 

"C-Can I hug you?" 

(Y/N) didn't even hesitate before she was gathering him into her arms, Harry's head dropping to her neck with his body pressed flush against hers for no other reason than he hadn't been hugged like this in years. His breathing came in pants against her neck, fanning across her skin while his tears dripped over the curve. (Y/N) settled him as best she could, running a gentle hand over his back while the other swirled through his curls as best she could with their dampened state. 

"'M so relieved," Harry whispered to her when he found his voice, "'M so relieved. Thank you." 

Harry didn't know what he was thanking her for, and he was sure (Y/N) didn't either, but that didn't stop her from holding him tighter.

—————

"Bye, Harry!" 

The delighted shouts that were called through the parking lot at the end of his work day brought a smile to Harry's face. He twisted on his heels, walking backwards for a moment as he waved for all the guys at the mechanic's yard to see. 

"See you all on Monday!" 

Harry couldn't remember ever loving his job the way he loved this one. 

The mechanic was full of some of the nicest people he'd ever met in his life; some grumpy and a bit rambunctious—something he was sure they played up around their quiet accountant, as they called him—but none of them were anything less than welcoming since the day he was brought onto the team. He was excited on the days he worked in office solely because he got to see his friends. There were even nights they went out for drinks or went to a local venue to watch live music, something to relax into the weekend they always told him, and Harry was invited each time. How he worked in an office for almost ten years when this was out there waiting for him, he'd never understand. 

But, Harry didn't like to think about the before years. Thinking about all he missed out on wasn't going to bring back the wasted time, that's what his therapist had told him. 

It had only taken one night at (Y/N)'s and another week and a half at a hotel before Harry had another place lined up—how he was able to manage that, he wasn't sure, but he wasn't going to say no. It took him one weekend to get his things out of Minerva's house, have her sign the divorce papers he filed the days before, and it was over. His wasted time was up. 

As difficult as Minerva liked to be, when she was done with something, she wiped her hands clean. Just as she did with Harry. She was quick to come to agreements about their assets and belongings, staying true to her word about wanting to take whatever route would be the fastest out of the marriage. 

He didn't mind that she got the house and a sizable chunk of their savings. He could get all of that back, and nothing could compare to the relief and freedom he felt now that he was out of that oppressive house. 

Plus, it was cheaper to go grocery shopping for one. 

(Y/N) had been so encouraging through the first few weeks that Harry was trying to make sense of the new world he had called upon for himself. Never interfering or pushing him to do anything he didn't want to. Everything she told him was about his happiness—putting his happiness first. It was her idea that he reach out to someone to talk to about what happened during his marriage, and how to navigate making his own choices without heavy amounts of doubt pushing him back. 

He hadn't seen her much since the night he crashed at her place, knowing that he needed to spend some time with himself, clear headed and heart in his own hands, before he could be in her distracting presence again. He needed to be the best version of himself first before he could be anyone else's. But, she never backed away from him, always there when he needed her, even if just to talk to someone. 

Harry didn't worry about the dirt on his feet as he opened up the door to his apartment, only shucking off his shoes messily by the threshold. He'd get to them later. 

It'd been three months since he moved in, so the place was a little sparse, but it was perfect in Harry's eyes. He'd never lived by himself before. Everywhere he looked, it was him—his things, his family photos, his memories. He loved his little apartment, no matter if it was a downgrade from a two-story, three bedroom house. This was his first home. 

His clothes were left in the hamper as he changed into a comfy set of clothing. He could do laundry tomorrow, no worries, he reminded himself. He had more important things to do. 

Reaching under his bed, Harry grabbed the final unpacked box he had taken from the attic of the old house. Nothing more was written on the cardboard than Harry's Stuff in Minerva's handwriting. Flipping open the top, he found his university gear (really just a pair of sweatpants he swore got him through exams seasons without any complete failures), a set of messily colored pictures gifted to him from when his niece was only a baby, random items from his childhood, and a leather bound journal. 

The journal was wrapped tightly closed with a matching length of string. The cover was doodled upon with stars and quotes, Harry's name scrawled across the front of the book. It mimicked him, he realized; covered in sketchbook like drawings, but it was all him. 

Inside, he knew there were songs from years ago he probably didn't even remember writing. A smile touched at his features as he untied the string holding the journal together. 

But, before he could flip through the pages again, he knew he had to make a call. 

With his phone to his ear, the ringing echoed in his ears until he heard the telltale click.

"Harry!" (Y/N) happily chirped on the other side, "How are you?

Hearing her voice, he swore it was easier to breathe. "Hi, 'm doing good," he greeted her, voice dreamy and mellow, "Are y'doing anything tonight?"

A beat passed before she spoke again, the smile he could hear in her voice easy to imagine. "I don't think so, why?" 

He promised (Y/N) she would be the first he called when he found his music again. 

"I want to show y'something."

He was happy to wait for her. 

—————

this is....very different for me ngl HUSHFUSHF I had a very different direction I was thinking about when I started this and then completely went off the rails and turned into something sadder than anything else ive written so...thanks for sticking through it I guess shfushfush thank you sm for reading and sorry for any mistakes (and the fact they don't even kiss ???)! if you have any ideas or requests of your own please send them in!

#writing #harry #harry styles #harry styles one shot #harry styles blurb #harry styles imagine #harry one shot #harry blurb #harry imagine #harry styles angst #harry angst #harry styles au #harry au #harry styles x reader #harry x reader #harrys house #love on tour #my policeman #as it was #late night talking

[collapsedglasshouses]

I don’t know if you take smut requests so I’m just gonna request for a fluffy one where Noah’s S/O has her wisdom tooth removed, I never had it done so all I know is that you get high af from dental drugs and people forget they have a partner or even married lol

A/N: I do take smut requests, I have a posted about my rules here. ♡ I like this request a lot tho, Anon. I got my wisdom teeth removed about three years ago, but I'm not from America. Where I'm from, you can choose what kind of anesthesia you get while they get removed. I didn't get full anesthesia, only local, so I couldn't feel pain and I remember everything... BUT... I know videos. Let me see what I can think of! ♡

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x Reader

Summary: When Noah and Jolly picked up Y/N after their wisdom tooth removal, they didn't know what they settled for.

Warnings: fluff, adorable little y/n, nothing else ♡

⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . * ꙳ ✦ ⊹

"Do you know the muffin man?" You asked tiredly when your eyes finally opened after your wisdom teeth operation.

"WHAT?" Noah exclaimed while Jolly was laughing his ass of behind him.

You instantly forgot, what you wanted to tell him with that, so you just giggled. Noah's eyebrows rose. "What have I gotten myself into?"

"Aren't you afraid the snake on your neck will strangle you?" You than asked while looking at his neck tattoo and than noticed how your vision was still slightly blurry. When you were honest to yourself, you didn't even know where you were.

"Please help me, Jolly." Noah than exclaimed and looked at his friend behind him.

"THE SWEDE!" You suddenly screamed in excitement and reached for your fellow friend, who couldn't contain his laughter anymore.

"I wonder if they were ever this excited to see me." Noah said to his friend and band mate, causing you to shoot him a look.

"Who even are you and why are you holding my hand, my dude. I have a absolutely perfect boyfriend that waits for me at home, mister." You mumbled and crossed your hands before your chest, when the doctor stepped in and told the boys, you could go.

They helped you into a wheel chair and drove you to Noah's car, while you slightly dosed off again.

The next thing you knew was about ten minutes later, when you started to mumble again. "Jolly?" - "Yes." - "Do you know how gorgeous Noah is? Literally every time I close my eyes, I see him right in front of me."

Noah quietly laughed while driving the car.

"No, go on. Tell me more." Jolly almost was full on laughing again, while your boyfriend's cheeks turned pink.

"I think he's a siren. Literally how can he woo someone this fast. I look at him and I feel like I'm an object." You muttered. Jolly tried to contain his laughter, causing him to tear up. "Like... HOLY HELL, HOW HOT CAN A SINGLE PERSON BE."

"Yeah, he's pretty hot, Y/N." Jolly cried out under his laughter.

"FACTS." You screamed and started to feel dizzy again. "When we come back imma kiss the shit outta him."

Noah rose his eyebrows to how oblivious you were to his presence.

"Fuck, I love this man." You exclaimed, before falling back into a "half-sleep".

A couple of minutes later, you only partially noticed Noah carrying you out of the car and into your bed, and the last thing you heard before you finally fully fell asleep was him planting a kiss on your forehead and whispering, "I love you too, silly."

⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . * ꙳ ✦ ⊹

(only a short one but i hope you like it)

#bad omens fanfiction #noah sebastian x reader #bad omens fanfic #bad omens fic #noah sebastian fic #noah sebastian fanfiction #noah sebastian fanfic #bad omens rpf

[grave-z-boy]

Right so I love your writing and just need more mx m cause fuck I'm tired of imaging dead me .

I'm a Trans man..I think ( female to male ??) So I was hoping for a fic somewhat like that . Arthur and reader meet when they're female but 2 years later or so they meet again and arthur doesnt recognize y/n (because they transitioned) I just want some fluff and acceptance of that . I know back then homosexuality was a big no no and being trans is unheard of so it'll be fun to see where you take it.

Arthur Morgan x Trans!Male!Reader

Summary: You’ve felt stuck and unhappy for years, so, in pursuit of your own happiness you leave everyone and everything you’ve even known behind. Including your currently out of state lover, Arthur Morgan.

Word count: 6,011

Warnings: reader is a bartender, reader steals, readers sister and mother are mentioned, implied past sex between Arthur and reader, drinking and alcoholism mentioned (not reader or Arthur), y/n and his guns, guns mentioned, shooting mentioned, abandonment, hurt comfort, reader being One Of The Guys™️, sleep deprived Arthur, Tilly being helpful, reader get misgendered and deadnamed a lot but it’s before they knew he was trans, reader cries really fucking hard at one point Arthur being sleep deprived, sleep deprive Arthur being really gay for Reader, not mentioned in the story but the reason Arthur is so tired is because about half way though his second trip to town his horse bucked him off for pushing her too hard and he had to walk the rest of the way, worlds longest warning list damn

Sept. 15, 18XX

My Dear Arthur Morgan

It’s been thirteen months since I saw you last. The time has passed slowly for me- sometimes it felt as though I was standing still for days at a time. Like everyone and everything around me was moving forward- but for me, and only me, time stood still. In the months since you’ve left it seems my joy, as well as a my love for my home town, has dwindled to nothing. Staying here, the way I am, it pains my heart. I know I said I would be here, that I would wait for you to return. But I need to change and the change that I need cannot be achieved here. The people here know me, they’ve known me my whole life, and no matter what I do I will always be that same little girl to them.

I’m heading up to a little town in Nevada, maybe I can start over there.

Always yours, D/n.

Arthur received your final letter months ago. In the time since he’s read it hundreds of times, mulling over every little detail. The crumbles in the paper, the unevenness of your writing, the all too familiar tear stains that permanently warped small circles on the page, the way your name ripped through the paper, as though you’d traced it dozens of times before sending it off.

He doesn’t think he’ll ever understand what happened, why after all this time of waiting, all this time of writing him dozens of love letters, why you decided to say goodbye, he understood change. Arthur has seen people change, he’s changed, and if it was change you needed he’d do it again. But you left. If he really wanted to, he could find you, ride day and night, ask everyone he saw if they’d seen the beautiful woman that he loved more than anything. But…

You didn’t want that. You didn’t want to be hunted down, you didn’t need to be convinced. You needed change, not a reason to stay the same. So he let you go and even when the following days were filled with the nothing but pain and confusion and the complete desolation your decision brought, he still let you go.

The gang knew he was hurting, he was withdrawn, went off on his own for a couple of days. They figured he went to find you, but when he returned, without you and in a severely worse state, they knew not to press him on it.

You weren’t much better.

This was your decision and you were going to live with it. You yearned for Arthur, every day and every night, it was different from waiting for him in your hometown, he was the one who’d left then, but you knew he’d come back to you one day. Now you were the one leaving, and you could never go back to him.

You needed to move on, you sold every piece of clothing you had to a local tailor, it was almost funny to see some of your nicer dresses displayed in the window the next morning, early on, your new wardrobe came from various drunk men. You’d be surprised just how much you could find in an alley next to a bar. After you had an outfit, a proper male outfit, you were able to assimilate.

You lived above a tavern. The owner was far too old and far too tired to run it anymore, and he wanted to live in his own house for the first time in decades, so he offered you the place for a little over a hundred bucks. You worked at the bar at night, while you handled various chores and other responsibilities during the day. The pay wasn’t great, but you had a permanent place to stay and spare food from the bar to eat, and it was more than enough.

You’d taken up a new name, y/n, you thought about it for a long time before you left. A good name, the name of a proud man with no connection to who you were before. No one ever questioned you. You were just a man to them. They teased you, in the earlier days, called you feminine, pointed out your hand, your cheeks, and your hips among other things, but in the end it was just teasing, they didn’t know why you were like that, and they didn’t question when you put in an effort to change or hide your more feminine aspects. Maybe they were just too drunk to care.

You loved this life, you were just the friendly bartender.

But even with this new life, you found yourself missing aspects of you’re old one.

Your old friends, your old family, your old lover. They wouldn’t take you back, not like this, they’d think something was wrong, they’d try to change you, try force you back into the box you clawed yourself out of.

But still you dreamed of them, your sisters cooking, the way she was effortlessly graceful even when she was teasing you, your friends, the girls you’ve know since you were in diapers, singing, making flower crowns, getting into trouble. Arthur…

You dreamed of Arthur the most. Your days and nights were filled with thoughts of him. You think back to your last night together, the way he held you so tightly, you swore you could still feel his hands there. The praises he muttered, the love he confessed through out the night, every move he made, the way he left and the hole that was left in your chest after.

You dreamed of him, like one day you’d wake up and he’d be beside you. And he tell you that he loved you, not d/n, not the girl from before, but you, y/n, as your truest self.

But just like yesterday, and the days before that, he wasn’t there when you opened your eyes.

The sun was just coming up. But the sliver of light that did shine through the window seemed to magically be angled at your eyes. Making the rest you so desperately wanted impossible.

You pushed yourself up with a groan, your elbow popping the moment you were upright, your eyes were just barely open, you scratched your chest and let out a long yawn.

Your room was still dark for the most part, but you were still able to pull on some pants and fasten a belt so you could head downstairs. The tavern was empty, you cleaned up good last night and you wouldn’t have to worry about really opening until later. Still, you unlocked the front door and flipped the wooden sign in the window to say open, the people here knew you weren’t really open to serve, you were just open to the chatty people that passed through in the morning, locals coming to say hi, or travelers in need of direction, others came to sit with their friends and get out of the violent Nevada sun. Either way, you’d be polite enough to them, but they weren’t welcome for a drink for another couple of hours.

Stepping into the backyard you picked the laundry off the line and into a basket. You heard the bell up on top of the front door ring a couple of times. As you got closer to the back door you could hear the faint chatter of two people inside, Doctor Mayer, one of three doctors in town, and Anita, a house wife. She was in here more often than her husband was, but you always figured that she just needed something to do while he worked considering you’ve only ever seen her drink a handful of times in the past year.

When you came through the back door she let out an excited yelp,

“Y/n!” She shouted, like she hadn’t seen you the night before.

“Mrs. Matthews.” You said with a respectful nod. “How’s you’re husband?”

She groaned, “paranoid.”

Setting the basket down on the bar, in between the upturned stools, you turned back to her.

“He used to be a farmer, farmers are always paranoid.”

“He was not a damn farmer, don’t let that man fool you, he was a farm hand, it’s different,”

Dr. Mayer piped in, his voice low and tired, though that just how he always sounded, “the bastard smells like one…”

“It’s getting warmer out there.” You responded, leaning against the bar.

“Doesn’t mean he has to walk around smelling like a damn animal!”

You laughed, turning back to Anita, “what does your husband do anyway?”

“He’s a banker, which is why he’s so damn paranoid in the first place.”

“Why’s that?”

“Well..” she stated, adjusting herself in her chair, “one of his colleague’s brother-in-law told his colleague that he saw a gang ‘a outlaws heading up this way, but here’s the kicker, Johnny, the colleague, is a notorious liar. Lies left and right like his life depends on it.”

“Johnny Flores?” You asked.

She smacked the table, “That’s the bastard!”

“Yeah, he comes in here every Wednesday like clockwork, telling the boys his stories. It’s a surprise the whole town hasn’t heard about this..”

“Well, it isn’t Wednesday yet, is it? It’ll make it’s way into you’re bar, don’t worry”

You laughed again, grabbing the basket off the table you said, “Alright, I’ll be back in a minute, got a few more thing to settle.”

You weren’t too worried about the rumors, there wasn’t much in the town anyways, no sheriff either so if they did come and make noise, it’d be a free for all and they’d leave with less than they came with. Everybody had a gun, hell- you had two, a shotgun the last owner had given you, and a pistol Arthur had given you a few weeks before he left, one was under the bar on a shelf, the other was under your bed, you’ve never really had a need for either, but if Johnny was being truthful for once in his life, which you doubted, you figured it was good to have them.

That night, when the bar did open, a few unfamiliar faces strode in, though none were to shady. A couple of working girls took to them quick and they were gone after being chatted up by for a bit. Outside of that, it was a normal night.

You closed late, shooing out the last drunk nearly two hours later than usual. Wiping down the tables, flipping the chairs and stools on them, washing the glasses, sweeping, mopping and making sure the front and back door was locked before heading upstairs. You scrubbed yourself down at your washstand. Of all things you missed from your old home, your bathtub was one of the bigger ones. Your mother had invested in it early on, and now you were saving to have one installed here too. What you wouldn’t do for a hot bath after a long day. You were almost there, another fifty dollars and you’d have all the money you needed. That’s were a good portion of your money went, you didn’t mind, after all you’ve sacrificed you deserve something nice.

——-

A couple of weeks later, Wednesday afternoon, Johnny Flores and a couple of his friend decided to take over the seats directly in front of the bar. Again, he told stories of bandits headed your way, but he was “serious” this time.

“I swear, I know what I saw, Dutch’s boys, just like the damn posters! I saw them coming from the east, clear as day.”

Before one of his friend could respond you asked, “and what the hell were you doing in the east, huh?”

“Well-“ he straightened himself out, “I was out with my lady friend-“

“The prostitute-“ his friend, Oscar, interrupted.

“-Not a prostitute, she's a-”

“-escort-” both Johnny and his three friends said together, they've heard that one before.

“Isnt that the same thing?” you asked.

“He doesn't think so!” Oscar said.

“They almost knocked our carriage over!” Johnny shouted, getting the conversation on track.

“Sure they did..” you said, drying the glass in your hand before setting it back down. “Bet they stuck you up too, only let you live cuz you're so pretty.”

“Go to hell, y/n.”

“I'll go where ever your lying, drunk ass ain't.”

“Im not lying, and I’m not drunk either, so get me another whiskey, asshole!”

“Hey now,” Daniel, who was also a regular, piped up, “careful how you talk to him, he might shoot ya’”

You set the glass down in front of him, he snatched it quickly, gulping it down.

“Or I might just piss in your whiskey.”

He choked hard, luckily the drink went down his throat instead of all over your counter, then you would have shot him. His face morphed to one of irritation, but his friend's laughter was infectious and he found himself laughing along with them.

The night ended with you carrying a passed out Johnny to the alley, you cleaned up, scrubbed yourself down, and went to bed just as you always did.

The next morning a delivery was made to the bar, food and alcohol, you kept your meats and some of your more expensive liquor in the ice box and things like bread and supplies were kept on the shelf. Food wasn't ordered commonly in the tavern, but there were those who ate here nearly every night because they had no skill for cooking and no one else to do it for them. You enjoyed those people, and you think they enjoyed you too, especially since the last owner would drive them out if they tried to come in for more than three days in a row. He thought that they were stealing food from other customers, but you didn't, You knew they were just hungry and needed to eat, and they couldn't be stealing because they always paid.

After that, your day was pretty normal- other than what you consider to be one the best things to happen to you in a long time- your bathtub, your beautiful porcelain bathtub with golden feet and faucet, was done. Fully installed and in perfect working order. You weren't going to pretend to understand how the man you paid did it, but he did. And finally, after what felt like years, you were able to take a hot bath.

It was weird, staring down at your distorted body as you soaked. Usually, when you scrubbed yourself down at the washstand all you could think of was how desperately you wanted this to be over. Your mind was clear, but that clarity only lasted so long though, as it did most nights, your mind wander to Arthur.

Saying you missed him was redundant, it was meaningless, it was stupid. You know, but you did. Letting out a long sigh, the last time you saw Arthur was like a dream, you spent an entire day together, you woke up together, ate together, bathed together, dressed together- everything you did, every little move you made reminded you of that day. And with Johnny spreading rumors about the Dutch’s gang, you heard his name more and more. You let yourself sink into the water, your eyes clenched shut as warm water covered your face. You stayed there longer that you should have, when you finally sat up, you were nearly gasping for air.

You got out few minutes later, you were tired, dressing yourself halfway before collapsing into bed.

You didn’t dream that night, your mind either too tired or too pained to show you your usual fantasies.

——-

Arthur swore he wouldn’t look for you, he swore it to you and to himself that he’d let you be free. But it seemed unavoidable now. Dutch had settled the gang in a large clearing in Nevada, the gang was mostly hidden by a small chain of mountains, and there was a streak of towns and settlements all within a couple dozen miles from each other.

There weren’t many cities in Nevada, it was dry and damn near impossible to farm out here if you didn’t know what you were doing, and if that wasn’t enough, the heat would be.

You were out there somewhere.

Dealing with the heat, with the drought, and with the shitty crops. And you still didn’t go back home. He’s been to your home. He's gone back dozens of times, you were never there, whatever you wanted to do, whatever changes you made, you succeded. He was happy for you, you were happy, God he hoped you were happy- he doesn't know what he'd do if he found out you weren't. If you were somewhere miserable and sulking, all this time, when you could have been with him.

He pushed those thoughts back- you were happy, you had to be.

When Arthur mentioned he was riding into the nearest town, he got a few odd looks. It wasn't a secret that you'd run off to Nevada, not even close. Most didn't say much, maybe a quick good luck, or a request for something from town. Some didn't say anything, but Dutch did. Dutch warned him, warned him about you and how some changes weren't good, and if Arthur did see you that he needed to be careful.

Arthur wasn't one to ignore advice, and he didn't ignore it, he thought about it as he road through the desert lands of Nevada, but whatever changes you made, he could handle it. He wasn't a child, he didn't need have his hand held. There wasn't even a guarantee that you'd been in this town, or the next one. So for all he knew he'd never have to face you're changes.

The town was bustling with life. The people went about their business. The town was…normal. Small, busy, and normal. He road in unbothered, no one here seemed to care enough to even look when the man when he trotted by.

Hitching his horse to a sturdy pole he set off to one of the small shops nearby, after picking up some extra oat cakes and apples for the horse, he tried to find the sheriff’s office, only to find that this town didn't have one after asking a mildly disheveled yet nicely dressed man for directions, no government either. The town was its own unit outside of the occasional trading.

“Danny Hikman used to be the law here, well, not really, but he kept people on the right track. Encouraged them to do right- and get guns, he used to run a bar a little down the way, gave it to his nephew or something-” the man said, laughing slightly.

“‘ bar any good?” he asked, only half listening to the man.

“The best, fresh food, cold whiskey- bartenders a good guy too, won't hesitate to throw your ass out though.”

“I’ll bet- which way’s that bar, again?”

———

You started serving earlier than usual today, mostly so you could close earlier without complaint. The familiar chime of the bell above the door called your attention for a less than a second, you recognized Johnny, then looked back down at the glasses you were cleaning.

“Changing your schedule on me, Johnny? I thought you were a Wednesday man?”

He let out a short laugh, sitting in the spot directly in front of you, “just showing a friend around.”

“You’re friends are all alcoholics, I doubt they need help finding a bar.”

“Hey now, I’ve got a new friend. Mr. Uhh-“

“Arthur.”

You felt like you’d just jumped out of your skin, the glass in your hand clattered against the floor, ever so sturdy. Landing thankful one piece. Staring at the man in front of you, standing just behind Johnny, Arthur Morgan, right there, looking just the way he did when he left, just the way you remember him.

He glanced at Johnny, then back at you- it felt like he looked right through you. Looking at you with none of the love or adoration from before. Because he loved d/n, not y/n. Y/n was just a bartender to him, an awful one who apparently couldn’t even hold a damn glass.

Your heart felt like it was collapsing in on itself, your chest was tight and you could feel your throat start to close as tears weld in your eyes. Quickly, you broke eye contact with Arthur, ducking down under the bar to grab the glass, using the sleeves of your shirt to wipe the forming tears in your eyes before standing up.

“Sorry boys,” you muttered, “you’re, uh, friend startled me is all.”

Taking off his hat and setting down on the counter, Arthur took a seat on one of the stools.

“Sorry, your friend here talked you up quite a bit, had to see for myself if what he said was true.”

You let out a laugh, forced and almost nervous, setting the glass down with the rest of the dirty glasses, you said, “Trust me, it’s true, what you looking for Mr. Arthur?”

“Just Arthur, and whiskey, thanks.”

You nodded to the man before heading to the storage room, you’d hate to admit it, but you wanted to run, straight passed the storage room and out the back door. But that would make Arthur think something was wrong, and yes, something was wrong, but he didn’t need to know that. He didn’t recognize you, and that was okay, it was supposed to be okay, you left so you wouldn’t be recognized, you left to start over. But he’s out there, and you were hiding in the storage room so you wouldn’t have to face him. You gave yourself a moment, for your throat to release and for your heart to stop pounding and aching. Only the pounding stopped. You needed to work, you couldn’t let them know anything was wrong.

Grabbing a bit of higher quality whiskey out of the icebox, feeling the frosty glass sting your hand as you carried it out of the storage room. Without looking up at the man you grabbed one of the clean glasses and poured him about half a glass. You remember Arthur complaining about it once, only getting serviced the tiniest amount of alcohol, no matter the price. Capping the bottle you gave a short wordless nod before setting it under the counter. Arthur grabbed the glass, before he could speak you were on the other side of the bar, serving somebody else.

Johnny didn’t stay long, he had other things to do on a Thursday afternoon, but Arthur stayed, you poured him a couple more glasses before cutting him off, at least from your expensive whiskey.

“How much do I owe you?” He ask, his speech a bit slurred as he sat unsteadily in his seat.

“Nothing, I’ll put it on Johnny’s tab, come Wednesday he won’t notice it.”

“Thank you kindly-“

“Y/n-“

“Thank you, y/n.”

“You have a good night Mr. Morgan.”

You crawled into bed that night, still in your day clothes, feeling like your heart had been torn out of your chest. And you cried, you cried until the sun came up, until your body couldn't cry anymore and every sound you made was a rough heaving sob. And when you had no more energy left to sob, you stared at your open window, watching the sunrise, listening to the people.

You were supposed to open today, unlocking the door and flipping the sign, staring out the window, at the people, at Mrs. Matthews waiting across the street for you to open your doors.

You flipped the sign back, you stated at the word “OPEN” facing you, then at Mrs. Matthews's face fell as the word “CLOSED” faced her.

————

Sitting on his cot, journal on his lap, Arthur stared at the picture he drew. It wasn't perfect, considering he was half drunk when he drew it, but it was something. The bartender from last night. He was…something. A nervous something. Arthur felt bad for him when he dropped the glass, then he just…stared at him, long enough for Arthur to get a spark of familiarity when he saw his face. Arthur tried to get his attention as the night went on, ordering drinks, asking questions, trying to get the man to stay close, be he'd walk away the moment he'd answered or served him.

He wasn't like that with other patrons, he laughed, he joked- then he kicked everyone out.

He heard him say he was closing early, but let him stay until he finished his last drink. Arthur thought about the name he'd given. Y/n.

“I see you're drawing d/n again, did you catch her in town?”

Looking up he saw Tilly standing next to him with a kind smile on her face.

“No, it's not d/n, some bartender in town, he looks so familiar.”

Tilly hummed, sitting on the cot with Arthur and taking the book out of his lap. She flipped through the pages quickly before finding a drawing of d/n, with your final letter stuck right next to it.

“Needs a change, huh? Maybe she skipped town and became a bartender, you never know.”

“A bartender and a man?”

“You never know Arthur. Maybe that's why she left, couldn't make a change like that where people know you. They would've hunted her down.”

“Tilly..”

“Maybe you should talk to the bartender, if it's not her then it's not her, but if it is, are you really going to miss seeing her again because you won't take a chance?”

Handing the journal back to him she said, “Just think about it, at least.” Then she walked away.

————

You heard the slam of the front door behind you as you sat the freshly cleaned glasses on the rack. If you were going to sulk and lock yourself in the bar then you were going to clean while you did it.

“We’re closed..” you said, your tone not exactly customer friendly.

You had a list of things you needed to do, you've already mopped the floor, scrubbed the tables and walls, washed every glass, plate, and utensil, did your laundry, scrubbed your tub, cleaned your room-

“D/n..?”

You paused, then glanced over your shoulder. You knew it was him, you already knew, you knew his voice too well to ever mistake it. Taking a breath, you hands shaking and heart pounding, you turned around.

“Arthur, I-” you breathed out, but you didn't know what to say. “How did you-”

“Lucky guess..”

Taking slow steps towards the bar, you heard him sigh.

“Are you…okay?” he asked, unsure.

You nodded, “Yeah, yeah I'm okay.”

“We should talk-”

“Yes, we should-”

You stepped from behind the counter, still unsure as to what could happen next. Then, without warning, you were pulled into a tight hug, Arthurs's body practically enveloping yours. You stood there, holding him as tightly as you could until your arms started to burn from the strain.

You didn't know what to say, or how to explain what happened, the realization you went through while he was gone, why you left.

When you pulled away you still didn’t know what to say, you opened your mouth to talk but no words came out. You kept your face glued to the ground for a long moment.

“You look different, I didn’t recognize you yesterday..”

You pulled out one of the stools.

“I told you I needed change.”

He pulled another out beside you.

“I know, I just don’t know what I was expecting.”

“This must be so confusing.”

“It is, but I’m betting it was more confusing for you that it could be for anybody else.”

Leaning on the counter, you looked up at him.

“I guess so. In my home town I figured that they’d be a little more angry than confused so I left..” you stopped, taking a breath, “I didn’t want to leave you, Arthur.”

Arthur sat there silently, his eyes turned towards the counter.

You couldn’t help but stare, you haven’t seen him in so long, his eyebrows were slightly scrunched downward, his pretty blue eyes focused on nothing as his mind raced. His fingers tapped against the counter every few seconds. You tried not to let that anxious feeling in your chest build, but the longer he was silent, the harder it got to push down.

“You said you aren't happy anymore..”

You blinked.

“I wasn't.”

“How about now? Are you happy now?”

“I'm.. I have more good days than I did before, so…yeah, I'm happy.”

He stayed silent for another moment. You figured he was just trying to find his words.

Then, when he did speak,

“I still love you.”

You sighed, “I still love you, too, Arthur.”

Another long silence passed. It was odd, you've dreamed of seeing him again, all the damn time. And now that he's here you didn't know what to say. Your relationship, how ever strong it was before, was dying. Even though you loved him and he loved you.

Arthur was having similar thoughts, he didn't care how much you changed, he wanted you to be happy. That's all he wanted for you. But he wants to be with you, he doesn't care that your a man, it doesn't matter to him, he doesn't think it's ever mattered. He's never thought too hard about it. But now, with you sitting there looking the way you did. Looking so different, so muchlike yourself, so much more at peace even though you were being confronted, he thought, ‘yeah, I could be with a man.’

Before he could, you took a chance.

“How long you thinking of staying in town for, Arthur?”

———-

You laughed, he missed your laugh.

“You can't just go around taking people's clothes off!”

“I needed clothes and they were so drunk they wouldn't miss them!” you argued.

“How have you not been caught yet?”

“I bought new clothes!”

“Why couldn't you do that first?”

“I needed to avoid suspicion.”

“Avoid suspicious by stealing clothes..”

You laughed again.

You and Arthur had found your way upstairs, both of you sat on the floor, leaning back against the wall. He asked you how you ended up here, it was funny, explaining to Arthur, a known outlaw, the various ways you broke the law, and having him lecture you.

“I will not take this from an outlaw!”

“You're an outlaw too, now, Clothes Bandit.”

“Oh that's awful, why couldn't I get something good?”

“‘Good’ like what?”

“I don't know, you're better at naming things than I am.”

He looked over at you a small smile on his face.

“Really now, Mr. Y/n, how’d you come up with that anyways?”

“Well I found a baby naming book.”

He sat up, giving you a look.

“Are you serious?”

You looked at him for a second, a stren expression on your face, then slowly a smile broke out on your face.

“You're an ass.”

“You really think I got Y/n for a baby naming book?”

“You could have!”

“But I didn't-”

Eventually, after showing him your room and the various aspects of your new life that you adored (yes, the tub too), you headed back down to the bar, only to see Daniel, one of Johnny’s friends, behind the bar serving himself.

“Daniel, I'm going to kill you, how many drinks have you had?” you said, rushing over to him, snatching both the glass and bottle from his hand.

“One-” you gave him a look, he caved quickly with a sigh, “five.”

“Goddamnit.”

“‘M sorry, you are closed, your never closed!”

“I wouldn't be serving drinks this early anyways!”

He laughed, walking around to the other side of the bar, “I'm special though right? Won't get shot or banned or nothing?” he practically pleaded, but formed it like a question.

“No, you're not banned, but you still need to leave.”

He sighed, dragging himself out the door.

Sighing yourself, you turned to Arthur, “See what I have to deal with?”

“‘Seems like a handful.”

“Daniel is harmless, he's just an alcoholic.”

“Never met a harmless alcoholic.”

“He's harmless now, he doesn't want to risk almost getting shot again.”

Arthur laughed, sitting at the bar, just like had yesterday, “Who shot at him?”

You stared at him for a moment.

“You?”

“I gave him plenty of warning, see that hole in the wall that there—” you pointed to the very back wall of the tavern, between two tables was a loosely patched hole, “- warning shot, missed him by an inch.”

“Who the hell taught you how to shoot?”

“I taught myself, maybe I could teach you sometime.”

“Very funny, y/n, I wouldn't mind seeing you shoot sometime though.”

“There's a range in the next town, I could take you there sometime.”

The two of you talked until the sun had fully set and the town had gone quiet. The bar made you feel more open somehow, it always did. Arthur helped too, you guess. You missed him, you missed being like this, so normal with him. You were surprised his quickly things settled back in place, like neither of you had ever left. It was clear that you were different, but Arthur seemed to accept this change flawlessly. He never messed up, seemingly having ingrained every aspect of your new life into his mind.

Y/n, Mr.Y/n, Sir, he even called you handsome, you swear you nearly fell over when he did.

By midnight, you both were tired, and despite what he planned before, which was bringing you- if it was you, back to camp with him. But that plan never fell through, you ended up pulling him into the bathroom with you. You thought you'd be uncomfortable at first, but you figured if he was going to be back in your life you should get used to him seeing you naked again. But it wasn't, it was calm, comforting. You were thankful for your massive bath, the both of you fit well, you sat behind him, his hat tossed in on top of the heap of clothes you two had left, you ran your fingers through his hair, water from your hands running down his face. He hummed in contempt. He didn't speak much at first, simply enjoying you and your presence. It wasn't until the water had begun to cool and the cold air of the Nevada night started to seep in did he pressed himself closer to you, muttering something quietly.

It wasn't until you got out, long after the water cooled, we're you able to figure out what he was saying. You had some clothes you figured might fit Arthur, something you'd bought impulsively without actually checking to see if you could fit it.

“You have…nice arms-” he muttered.

You were pulling your pants up over your waist when he spoke, you turned to look at him, one hand holding your unbuttoned pants up, you asked, “Arthur, are you drunk?”

“No, no I'm just…real tired.”

“Didn't get much sleep?”

“I didn't sleep, I kept thinking of you.”

“When was the last time you slept?”

He groaned, “Tuesday, I was on watch Wednesday, I was pre occupied by your ass on Thursday, and now here we are.”

“Fucking Christ, go to sleep.”

“I want to look at you, I missed you-”

“I'll be here in the morning Arthur.”

He didn't respond for a long moment, you figured he dozed off finally, until you decided to switch shirts, shoving the one you had on into your drawer and pulling out another.

“You have a nice back too-”

“Good night, Arthur.”

Your night ended with you curling up around Arthur, your arms nearly wrapped completely around him. You didn't dream again tonight, your usual fantasies of seeing Arthur were deemed useless now and we're thrown out with the rest of today's mental trash.

#arthur morgan x male reader #arthur morgan x male!reader #red dead redemption 2 x male reader #red dead redemption 2 x male!reader #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 x male reader #rdr2 x male!reader #rdr2x male!reader #male!reader #male reader #x male reader #x male!reader #male y/n #x male y/n #arthur Morgan x male #✮ — z-boy

[klausinamarink]

Easy Promises

rating: T | cw: cancer, mentioned child abuse | tags: pre-relationship, Steve has good parents, childhood friends, reunion, Theodore is Eddie’s full name agenda | wc: 956

written for @steddieholidaydrabbles | Dec 14: Angst with happy ending

When Steve was eleven, he was told that he was going to die. Naturally, he burst into tears. His mother immediately pulled him to her chest, shushing him gently while his father yelled at their doctor.

“He’s just a child!”

“It’s important for your son to know that leukemia isn’t possible to survive-”

“Bullshit!”

Steve cried harder in his mother’s arms, even after they left the office.

Back home, his mother knelt down, looked Steve in the eye, and said, “You are going to live, baby. You are still going to grow up to be a smart, healthy man. You will fight that cancer and live.”

It was easy to make a promise. It was harder to follow through it.

After the urgent move to Indianapolis, Steve’s days fell into a blur of check-ups, medicine, throwing up, and exhaustion. He spent more days at the hospital than at his new school. He wasn’t sure which place was worse. The clinical words and smells with thin blankets and more sick children like him or the classrooms where apologetic teachers gave him too many lavish gifts while the other kids avoided him.

But there was one boy who declared himself as Steve’s buddy. Steve thought he would hate Theodore Munson, but he didn’t. Theodore (“Just Teddy! My full name makes me feel like I’m Roosevelt.”) never stared at Steve or asked about his leukemia or poked at his thin arms. Instead, Teddy always asked how his day went and listened to every word, even if it was a foggy repetition of hospital visits. If Steve said he was tired, Teddy never announced it to their teachers and just silently offered some cookies or juice under their desks. During recess and lunch, Teddy sat next to him and spoke excitedly about the new comics or movies Steve never had the chance to check himself.

It was always nice listening to Teddy talk. Way better than a doctor reading his statistics aloud like it was an eulogy.

When the chemotherapy inevitably snuck into his schedule, Steve cried and begged everyone to keep his hair. He was already The Kid With Cancer. He didn’t want his hair shaved off.

Nobody listened to him.

A couple days later, Steve wore a Reds cap. He refused to wear the knitted wool hat his Nana had made for him like he was five again. That would just push his classmates into bullying him for real.

He came to school late, not wanting to join the student crowd. He stopped when he saw Teddy sitting on the steps, his shaven head in his arms.

For a second, Steve thought that Teddy somehow knew and wanted to shave his hair in solidarity. And then Teddy looked up and he saw a nasty black eye. They stared at each other for a long time until both of their eyes welled up in tears.

“Your hair’s gone.” Teddy said wetly after they ran into each other for a hug.

“So ‘s yours.” Steve sniffs, daring himself to pat the buzzed scalp.

“My dad got mad last night.”

Teddy told him about his dad enough that his muffled words made Steve tighten his grip. “At least you’re not dying.”

Teddy barked out a wet laugh, “Just don’t leave me first.”

It was an easy promise to accept. Except it was already broken when Teddy never showed at school the next day. And then Steve was alone again.

—

I’m in remission. I still have a future. I’m going to live. Steve repeated that mantra to himself in his car, staring from afar at the ominous entrance of Hawkins High.

It had been a good year and a half since the doctors finally gave the good news. Steve was always a crier, but he’d only stared up at the ceiling in silent disbelief while his parents wept joyfully. The news never really hit him until two months later, when he touched an inch of new hair in the bathroom, and then sobbed and thanked God for letting him live.

Even if that little what if it comes back lingered in the back of his mind.

Now, he was thrown back to Hawkins, which included starting his sophomore year in person.

But old habits still stayed. Steve kept seated in his car and watched the other students walk inside while they laughed with healthy smiles. Even after the bell rang, he stayed. After a good five minutes, Steve’s courage returned and he stepped out.

He only took three steps when a van suddenly appeared, scaring the shit out of him with a blaring honk. Steve jumped back and flipped the driver off. “Watch it, asshole!” He stomped away, his mood broken further by the van’s door opening. Great, now he’s gonna be in a shouting match in front of the school-

“Steve?”

He froze. Turned around slowly.

Teddy, all dressed in some dark clothes with long hair. Teddy, who stared back at him with wide eyes. Teddy, Teddy, Teddy-

Steve wasn’t sure who ran towards the other first, but it was Steve who hugged the tightest and cried first.

“Holy shit,” Teddy laughed wetly in his ear, “Your hair-” He leaned away so his hands were placed on both sides of Steve’s head. They felt warm and oddly right. “You look so much healthier…”

Steve just smiled, a little blush in his cheeks as he said, “I got better.” He watched as the realization dropped on Teddy in real time. Then he was pulled into a more tighter and fiercer hug, already feeling a wet patch on his shoulder.

There were definitely lots of things they needed to catch up on. But Steve’s more contempt in sharing his warmth with his friend.

#klaus writes #steddieholidaydrabbles #steddie #tw cancer

[noodl3s4dayz]

Au stuff yippee!!

It had been nearly 14 years since she died. 14 years to move on, to start fresh somewhere new. And move on he did. That’s what Ted kept telling himself, at least. Some people thought he had murdered her, claiming he was only after her money and never even loved her in the first place. He wasn’t anywhere near Monte Carlo when it happened, but that didn’t stop some folks from… speculating. 

Some claimed his life was easier with her “out of the way”. It was a lie. Ted had loved her, very dearly. Her death sent him into a spiral of depression, and when trying to forget she ever existed didn’t work, he tried to remember. Before he moved back to the States, Ted had rifled through her belongings, worn her dresses, looked through photos upon photos of him and her happy, beaming at whoever was taking the picture without a care in the world. That only made things worse. The more he reminisced, the more he wanted— needed to have her back. 

Death doesn’t work that way, Ted reminded himself. He’d been grieving for more than a decade and it nearly drove him mad, and he decided that drowning his troubles in alcohol was the best course of action. It worked, for a while. He forgot, he became detached. Numb. He even tried his luck with women again, unfortunately for him it was a fruitless endeavor. 

The last girl he tried to sleep with had shrieked in terror at what clothing luckily concealed. She had called him a freak. She screamed about how he had the wrong parts, that he was a stitched together monster, not a man. In his drunken, half conscious state he just cried, pleading for her to understand. 

“S’ not my— hic — my f-fault! I was bor— born with it, please don’t leave me—“ he had blubbered, clinging to the woman’s arm for dear life. But she easily overpowered him, clawing his hand off her and dashing out of his spacious bedroom half naked before he could even finish the sentence. A few minutes had passed. Ted sat quietly on the edge of his bed, staring at the floor as he idly kicked his legs, tears streaming down his cheeks. 

~~~

“I c-can’t do this anymore,” he muttered under his breath, not so much to himself as to his long dead lover. The next day he resolved to jump off that bridge he’d walked across with her a couple of times. They had marveled at how the trees on either side of the lake had perfectly framed a view of possibly the most beautiful oak forest he had ever laid his eyes on. Ted shook his head, pushing the now not-so-fond memory away. He pulled on a sweater that had been thrown into some dark corner of his room the night before, and after almost tripping down the marble staircase that led to the entryway, trudged out the front door, not bothering to close it behind him. He didn’t need to, after all. At some point he bent over and vomited during the leisurely walk to his death, mostly out of fear and anxiety for the events to come. 

When he finally reached his destination, he noticed a rather tall man with a large pair of stupid looking orange tinted glasses on his face. He was leaning on the side of the bridge, staring into the distance with a small smile. Ted ignored him and clambered over the side of the wood and metal structure, shaking with fright but determined nonetheless. He squeezed his eyes shut and leaned forward. This was it. This is what he’d wanted to do since she died, and— 

A solid thirty seconds went by and Ted didn’t… feel like he was falling. He cracked an eye open to confirm his suspicions. He wasn’t plummeting to his watery grave. Why? Ted pondered it for a moment, more alert and almost able to think straight now that most of the booze had left his system. He realized he wasn’t falling because there was a pair of meaty hands secured around his middle, effectively stopping Ted’s suicide attempt. Ted clawed at his savior’s hands but they wouldn’t budge, only moving to cross over his chest and drag him back over the side of the bridge. Ted flailed wildly in no particular direction to try and shake off whoever dared keep him from his lover, screaming at the top of his lungs. 

“You— you bastard! Let me go right now you motherf—“ Ted was caught off guard by suddenly being hauled all the way over the railing, the hard landing on his back knocking the wind out of him. Ted hacked and coughed, tears forming in the corners of his eyes. He heard a groan of pain above him. 

I hope I broke something. 

“Why were you doing that?” A man’s voice asked, and as Ted craned his neck to look up at him he recognized him as the man he’d seen smiling at nothing. 

“Doing what?” Ted wheezed. 

“Trying to kill yourself,” the man answered, seemingly unbothered by the action but instead curious about Ted’s motives. 

“That’s— that’s none of y-your damn business, pal,” Ted grumbled, sitting up and brushing dirt off his jeans. 

The man looked irked but didn’t press any further, extending his hand for Ted to take. Reluctantly, Ted took it and stood up, cursing at the pop his knees made. The two stood in silence for a while, Ted just holding onto the man’s hand. 

“I’m Abner, in case you were wondering,” the man— Abner— said, breaking the awkward stretch of quiet. Ted snorted. 

“That’s a funny name,” he murmured. 

“Theodore, right?” Abner asked. 

Ted stopped responding for a minute and the taller man let his eyes drift down to where Ted’s hand was still firmly gripping his. Ted’s head twitched slightly, and he remembered he was in the middle of a conversation. 

“Wait, how do you—“ 

“Don’t be stupid, sweetheart, I don’t live under a rock,” Abner said before he could catch himself. He cleared his throat and added politely, “I mean, I just like to keep up with how the rich and famous are doing. Not much of anything else to do.” Ted’s mouth curled into a scowl and he yanked his hand away, then looked down in surprise as if he hadn’t previously noticed the contact. 

“Thanks for the help,” Ted deadpanned, crossing his arms and turning to walk back home. Maybe I’ll just hang myself or something. He considered the possibility; it would hurt but it would get the job done. 

“Wait, wait!” Abner called, running up to Ted and placing a hand on his shoulder. 

“Do you need something?” Ted growled.

“How do I know you won’t try it again?” Abner questioned, with just a hint of false sadness in his tone. No doubt pity. 

“Why do you care?” Ted snapped. He pushed the other man away and walked a little faster. 

“Because I know what you’re going through. You loved someone. She either left you or died.” 

Ted froze.

“You don’t know that.” 

“Enlighten me then. What happened?” 

If he turned around, Ted was sure he’d see the man smirking. 

“I— she died, yeah,” Ted mumbled. He paused for a moment before adding, “… and… and how would you know how it feels?” 

“I’ve been divorced. Twice,” Abner explained nonchalantly. 

This is stupid, Ted thought, He’s probably lying to me. 

Ted turned around slowly, having to lift his chin to look the other man in the eye. Abner was not smirking, Ted noted. He looked… somber. Almost. Maybe Ted was just reading into his expression too much. 

“I can tell you don’t believe me,” Abner whispered. 

“I mean I never s-said that but— I— you’re a stranger! I don’t know you! You could just be trying to lure me back to your place to drug me and— and strangle me!” Ted made a dramatic choking gesture to get his point across. 

“If I wanted you to die I would have let you go over that bridge,” Abner said, a little bit of bite to his voice. Ted swallowed hard. 

“D-do you want a drink?” Ted offered. 

                  ~~~

Abner gasped in awe at the interior of Ted’s “humble abode.” Ted casually lied that he just happened to be born into wealth, not bothering with the monotonous details of the farm, or his six siblings, OR the fact that he was lucky to have had a woman– a very wealthy woman— become enamored with him. Telling Abner to make himself at home (hesitantly, as part of Ted was still convinced he was a murderer), Ted descended a well worn staircase to the basement. Ted grimaced at his near barren cellar, making a mental note to get more wine if he decided not to end his own life. He soon emerged from the dark recesses of the space with a bottle of champagne in hand, popping the cork off and taking a swig from the bottle before pouring Abner a glass. 

By the time the sun set most all of the champagne was gone and Ted was crying again. Over her, over not being able to be there, over not even going to her funeral. Both Ted and his companion were seated on a large cushioned sofa. Abner was afraid of scooting closer to Ted’s shaking form but wanted to seem like someone to go to in times of need, all the while. He didn’t have much time to think about it. Ted thrust himself forward and grasped the front of Abner’s coat tightly, sobbing into his chest. 

“I, um, I can relate to that. My first wife had a miscarriage,” Abner muttered, shifting in place, “we were going to name him Nicholas. It was hard on both of us but her especially. She couldn’t…she couldn’t really stand to be around me after that.” Ted smiled slightly at the other man being able to understand the tragedy of death but still kept weeping, staining the front of Abner’s shirt with snot and tears. The taller man just bent over a bit to set his glass on a small table in front of him. He didn’t care about that shirt anyways. He pretended not to, at least. 

That’s when Ted leaned his head back to stare up at him, eyes glassy. Abner didn’t even have a second to react before Ted smashed their lips together. Ted slid his hands from Abner’s lapels to his face, cupping it tightly as if to make sure the man in front of him was real. After a few moments Ted pulled away from Abner’s mouth with a wet smack and an expression of pure dread spreading across his features. 

“I shouldn’t have done that. I— I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that,” he slurred. His head thumped against Abner’s chest; Ted was clearly out cold. The other man blinked a couple of times. He licked his bottom lip, still wet with Ted’s bitter tasting saliva. He briefly considered bashing Ted’s head in and washing his mouth out with soap before opting to place his hands on Ted’s back, tracing his fingers along Ted’s spine. 

“What a sap,” Abner giggled. 

#ihnmaims #ted ihnmaims #Au #yes i did warp the timeline #Sorry #abner maguire #I wanted to write kissing and accidentally added 1878 words of plot whoops #Tw suicide attempt #TedAM #This is kind of told from Ted’s perspective

[zenaidamacrouras1]

Also, that being said, if you ever feel the urge to add snippets to the Backhoe universe please do 🫡🫡🫡🫡💖

I do have the urge to write some Backhoe snippets but I also need to manifest free time when I am not so deeply brain dead tired I fall asleep immediately which has been difficult as of late.

But I was just thinking today that I kinda want to write them on 4th July a year later after the first community fireworks show they attended together?

They're officially engaged now and last year everyone had kinda thought Steve was Becca's boyfriend but he's actually Bucky's fiance so how do they navigate that when half the town comes up to them and is like, "oh it's the guy from Brooklyn!" And then tell Bucky wedding bells are going to be in the air soon, is he ready for that?

And they look significantly at Becca and it's supposed to be a sorta low key sexist joke about how Becca is getting married to some guy from Brooklyn and Bucky's expected to be protective of his sister's virtue. And honestly it makes sense on paper that they'd assume that.

Becca is the one who lives in Boston for college and is more likely to have met some kind of skinny artist city boy to bring home, but anyone with eyes willing to really look could tell from a mile away while riding a bucking bronco that Bucky is the one who is running headlong and desperate to marry the guy from Brooklyn.

So Becca says, "he's ready, but I ain't so sure" and they laugh real hard because they think she's just made a joke like Bucky wants to marry her off to the first guy whose come calling so he has one less sister to take care of and the sassy way she rolls her eyes at Bucky makes everyone say something like, "you got your work cut out for you with all these sisters, Barnes!"

And Bucky says, "Lawwww don't I know it, cain't imagine it otherwise. Busy hands, full heart, as mom always said," which is what his mother always used to say when someone said something like that to her. And the random person walks off.

This interaction repeats itself in various iterations a dozen or more times over the evening. But every now and then someone wanders over to say hi to the Barnes conglomeration picnic blanket and immediately clocks Steve and Bucky for a young couple that's so in love they're about to burst.

Like Mrs. Wilson's pastor, who pulls Bucky up out of his chair and into a bear hug, whispering something into Bucky's ear that no one else can hear.

He let's Bucky go with a broad grin and a hearty slap on the back and a wink for Steve. "You got your work cut out for you with this one, Steven," Mrs. Wilson's pastor booms in his low voice with a wink. Bucky's eyes are glossy with a few tears from whatever the pastor whispered to him and Steve is overwhelmed with how beautiful his fiance (FIANCE!!) looks.

"Busy hands, full heart," Steve says, and Bucky's eyes get even shinier, and Steve really wants to kiss Bucky, but they are surrounded by Bucky's entire county so he doesn't.

It's the first year Poppy doesn't fall asleep at the fireworks show. Bucky almost cries realizing she's growing up, and he doesn't have to carry her to the van. But on the other hand she's 4 inches taller and a fair bit more than 4 pounds heavier than last year so he's kind of relieved he's not lugging her the half a mile back to the van. So it's complicated.

After they get home and get all the girls upstairs for bed, Bucky asks Steve if he wants to go on a walk.

They don't make it too far before Steve grabs Bucky and presses him hard against a tree, all strong hands and desperate lips. It's all a dream until they try and get too creative and fall in the creek.

Some time later they stumble back to the house laughing and giddy and exchanging lazy debauched kisses with wet hair and their shirts off and pants barely done back up (because the creek caused a pause but was not sufficient to cool them off).

Bucky stops up short and freezes because Hannah and Becca are sitting on the front porch, drinking ice tea and chatting in the dark out on the porch swing.

"It's after midnight, y'all should be in bed," Bucky says automatically.

Becca let's out a peal of laughter. "You are not in a position to lecture others about who should be in a bed for their evening's planned activities."

#Backhoe #I wrote a snippet! #stucky au #steve rogers x bucky barnes #becca barnes #So many sisters #I'm on vacation #Laying in bed #But now my thumbs hurt from typing

[gardenofcarnations]

Damn, like really.. I’ve been in a drunk like trance reading through your fics. They’re honestly amazing!!

Ive been dreaming of a fic where you’re friends with sap, just broken up with your boyfriend and just extremely frustrated bc he’d never ate you out of even made you cum. sap gets mad and want to help you out by treating you right. He makes you cum more times than you’ve had in the last year.

Like darling, I’m so caught up in your works and i honestly think you are the one to bring my dream to paper. Ive never asked for a writer before but i hope you like the request!!

Keep up the good work<3

Oh my god! Thank you so much! I can't form into words how grateful I am for the recent support. I did my best to fulfill your submission, I hope you enjoy it! This was quite fun to write ;)

Also "Sinners" by Ari Abdul & Thomas Larosa was playing as I wrote this submission and it helped build the imagination lol!

“Fuck you too! Cheating ass bitch!” you scream, tears welling at the brim of your eyes. You slam the door on your now ex-boyfriend’s face.

3 years down the drain in an instant. 

All because of a girl from the club he worked at.

You and Damien had met at a college party back in your first year. Damien was charming to say the least, he had a good sense of humour and that heart throbbing smile that balanced out his lack of a personality and shit mannerisms. On the outside, to everyone else, you both looked like the hottest couple. 

Although, behind closed doors, you both argued over every little issue that irked him. 

You didn’t have dinner ready when he came back from work? An argument.

You took too long to get ready for an outing? An argument.

You didn’t clean the house you both shared? An argument.

You didn’t want to have sex? You didn’t want to suck his poor excuse of a cock? An argument.

He wasn’t always like this. Damien had somewhat redeeming qualities about him like the fact that he was caring from time to time, he would take you out on expensive dates and get you pretty necklaces.

He got you one in particular that read “mine forever.” and it was the sweetest thing you ever had someone do for you.

Sweetest thing until you saw the girl that was wrapped in the sheets with him wear the same necklace. 

It was so sad it came off comedic sat this point.

You were so drained and frustrated with yourself, sacrificing your mental health and well-being all for a half assed excuse of a male. You packed your clothes and left the keys of the shared apartment complex on the bed that you caught them in.

Damien was well aware that you wouldn’t stay in the same house anymore, at least he had some sort of brain cell in that empty head of his.

Salty tears blurred your vision as you struggled to wipe them away, driving down the highway at a whopping 180km to your best friend’s house. 

It would be the best thing for you as of now.

Sapnap was bewildered to see you at his front door at 4am in the morning. He rubbed his eyes to get a better look at you before greeting you. 

“Dude it’s four in the morning why—“ He choked on his words, reading your heartbroken expression and noticed the tears that streamed down your red cheeks, your nose was a bright pink from rubbing your hoodie over it to wipe the snot that dribbled down.

He wraps a hand around your waist and pulls you into the house, “Hey, Hey, what’s wrong? What happened?” he asked you words laced with concern and sympathy. 

You walked over to sit on his living room couch. He shuts the door and walks over to sit beside you. “He— He was in the bed with her…I—I just came back from work…and he was, they—“ You sniffled out. 

Sapnap didn’t need to hear the rest to understand what you were talking about. 

He pulled you in for a tight bear hug, or, in his words, a panda bear hug. He rests his chin on your head, rubbing your back to soothe your cries on his shoulder. He hushes your sobs in attempt to comfort you.

After a while, it worked. 

You calmed down and soon the sadness settled it’s way into the midnight rain. Sapnap stuck with you through it all, making sure you weren’t left alone in such a state. He suggested you lay down in a more comfortable area, he recommended the guest bedroom, and you took it. He suggested that he would help you move out your PC equipment tomorrow morning, he also kept a mental note to rock Damien’s shit before leaving the house for good.

You were in the middle of stripping off your shirt when Sapnap walked in with a bottle of cold water, “Y/n, I brought this just incase you get thirsty and—oh.” His head snaps to your back side, the way your hair fell on your shoulders, the subtle tones of your back, and the curvy, slim, or thick figure of your body made him weak in the knees for a moment.

He clears his throat after noticing you hadn’t heard him come in.

“Oh! Sorry, I was thinking I could change, my shirt’s a bit drenched from snot and…” Your gaze falls to the floor.

“Of course, don’t apologize, it’s all good. Do you need a shirt or?” He asks you while setting the water bottle down on the nightstand. 

“Actually, I’m good, I brought a few clothes.” You respond slipping on a larger shirt that loomed over your figure. Something Sapnap picked up on that wasn’t your daily attire. 

“I didn’t know you were a fan of…ACDC…?” He reads the faded printing on your shirt.

Your eyes flash on the print and then back at him, “Oh, yeah, no, no this…this isn’t mine.”

Sapnap perks an eyebrow, “Who’s, uhm, who’s is it then?”

You look around the room, anywhere but his eyes, the embarrassment eating at your insides as his name slips out of your mouth. “Damien’s.”

The silence flourishes the room, Sapnap shuffles in his steps before turning to leave the room. “Goodnight Y/n–”

You yell out of instinct, “Wait!”

Sapnap turns around and tilts his head, “What?”

“Can…can you stay with me tonight? I don’t wanna be alone.”

Now, at this, the male could’ve let his jealousy shine in the silver moonlight and say “Well you have your boyfriend’s t-shirt, so you won’t be as lonely.” However the look in your eyes before and after crying your heart out diminished the growling anger in his chest. He walks over to the other end of the bed and lays down. You follow.

Your backs are facing eachother, the tension in the room is still lingering, but not as strong, it seemed to be like this with Sapnap a lot, you’d find yourself feeling rather relaxed in the quititude. Even when he’d be focused on editing or filming or school work back when you two were younger and all that could be heard was the soft breathing and occasional scribbling of the pencil or typing of a keyboard, Sapnap’s presence alone could calm you in an instance.

“He wasn’t worth it.” You admitted outloud, now letting your raging thoughts pour out one by one.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, he was a selfish prick, always got what he wanted like…there’s should be some sort of balance somewhere, right? God…” You groan out, “I can’t believe I let that shit happen for 3 years. I don’t even remember finishing a single time we had sex.” 

Perhaps that was a bit more than you wanted to share but with the sudden burning feeling you had inside of you, you didn’t care.

Although, Sapnap was bewildered to hear such a statement slip out of your mouth, he flips over and makes eye contact with your backside. “He never…made you—?”

You shake your head, “It was only sex when he wanted it, obviously I consented but only cause I figured sex was a mutual pleasure thing not just…it’s fuckin stupid. I’m sorry I didn’t mean to…”

“No, no don’t apologize,” Sapnap could regain a sudden dejavu where he said the same thing on different occasions. 

He slowly places his hand on your hip side. You didn’t think much of it, you both were comfortable with close proximity, you melted into it. 

“He never made you cum, that’s…what a shame.” His tone starts slipping, more slurred, whiney, as if mockingly sympathizing for you. His hands move lower to caress your thigh. Sapnap’s lips were now inches away from your ear.

“Sap…Sapnap?” You call out to him in the night.

“If you’d let me, I could make you cum more times then that asshole ever did in the past three years you were with him, Y/n.” He lowly whispered into your ear, the words shot straight down to your core, the sudden ache you never knew that was there began throbbing, in a good way.

He kisses your cheek, you turn to lay on your back and finally see Sapnap leaning over you, he knows his boundaries so he doesn’t want to overdo it. 

“Please, I can make you feel good–I want to make you feel good.” He notices how his voice came out more whiney and needy than intended so he chews on his bottom lip to stop him from going any further. He patiently awaits your response.

You gaze at the shadowy outline of your best friend, you knew you had some sort of treasured emotions for Sapnap, specifically for Sapnap, but it had died down the day you met Damien, you couldn’t risk loosing the friendship if you confessed so having Damien present himself in the (now rusted) shining armor he did it help you move away from Sapnap.

You regret it all now, seeing as he cared about you deeply.

So much so he was practically begging to get a taste of your pussy.

Why say no to such an eager boy?

“Okay.” You nod your head and get ready to sit up but Sapnap stops you by placing a hand on your chest and pushing you down so your laid on the plush pillows.

You’re confused by this, but Sapnap makes himself clear by slipping between your legs, helping you spread them far enough to gain access to what he needed.

“I told you I wanted to make you feel good, so lay down and relax, okay?” He reassures you in a soothing manner, you nod your head and shift to get comfortable and prepare for what was about to happen. “Has that bitch ever eaten you out?” He seethes through a set jaw, slowly slipping your bottoms off and throwing them behind him. 

His fingers slowly come in contact with your clothes pussy, the tips of his fingers trailing with just enough pressure to feel it trace patterns back and forth but also whimper at the lack of action. “I asked you a question Y/n.”

“No. Never. He never ate my…” Sapnap pulls your panties down to your ankles and you shove it off. 

He leans down see how perfect and wet you already were for him, he felt himself smirk in pride, you were wet for him. He loved everything about that, he coats his tongue in your juices, licking a long stroke up, essentially testing the waters. When he felt you shiver and immediately go to grip something, he laughs.

“Fuck, you’re sensitive.” He chuckles out, watching how your eyes were fluttering. “I want to fucking ruin you.” He blurted out.

“Then do it.” You respond as quiet as possibly, but Sapnap caught every syllable.

He dives back down between your legs and ravishing your cunt, licking, sucking, and kissing in all possible patterns he could think of on the spot, you loved it, you loved feeling his warm tongue on you, you loved the way he knew how to move, just the right amount of pressure, you loved how you could feel the slight stubble of his facial hair tickle the inner of your thighs which oddly made you shiver in satisfaction.

Sapnap was a natural at eating pussy.

It was his favourite thing to do, you would know this because he would talk about his one night stands with girls after a party and how’d they be writhing against his lips.

Similar to how you were now.

Practically riding his face, a hands pulling at the strands of cinnamon hair. He was a whore for pain and pleasure, so feeling you not only tug on his hair and shove his mouth into you, the feeling of your soft thighs wrap around his head made him want to cum right then and there. 

He pulls away after you moan out strings of curses calming down from your first orgasm that hit a bit quicker than you wanted to. Your body was beginning to feel heavy, it felt so good.

“I’m not done with you yet, baby. Take that fucking shirt off, it’s a god damn eyesore.” He growls lowly, you waste no time tearing it off you and tossing it away from the two of you. 

Sapnap’s olive eyes snap to your body, he takes in the view, relishes in it. 

“You’re so beautiful, I’m so fuckin jealous that he got see all of you before I could but…on the contrary…” He kisses your lips softly, a hint of aggression, but you were to expect that of Sapnap. He gropes at all parts of skin and nibbles on all possible flesh he can get onto.

His hands slips down to your cunt once more, letting his fingers tease over you enough to have you claw and his shoulder. “He didn’t get to dwell in the pleasure of fucking you properly.”

“Sapnap–”

“That’s not my name.”

“Nick–”

“Close but, not close enough, baby. You can do better than that. Call me by my name.” Sapnap slips a finger in, curling it up slowly, and when he feels more arousal drool out of you, he slowly slips in another to which you finally moan out.

“Nicholas, oh fuck!” Your grip on his shoulder doesn’t loosen, but Sapnap loves that.

His fingers pick up pace, he goes to kiss along your neck, and then to your tits. “Does this hurt? Do you want me to stop?” He asks you, now using his thumb to rub at your clit, your eyes were rolling at the back of your head, hair a mess, all you could do is shake your head. Sapnap wasn’t satisfied at all though.

“Words, Y/n, I need words from you.” You struggled to tie the sentence together feeling another orgasm builds it’s way up into your core. Your body spasmed, and your eyes shut closed. 

“You’re not responding…I think I’ll stop…” His movements grow slower, and you scream out.

“No! No! Please…Don’t, don’t stop.” You shove your face between sapnap’s right shoulder and neck. He feels your heavy breathing and butterfly kisses. He had to hold back from letting a moan out himself. “Please, it feels so good. Make me feel good. You’re so…fuckin good, Nick.”

He loved hearing your praises, it did things to him he couldn’t explain, he wanted to be good for you, he wanted to satisfy to no end, and with you already close to your second orgasm he let you have it.

“Cum for me, Baby. You earned it.” Sapnap ghosts above your ear, you let out groans tied in with whimpers as you came another round, feeling your legs shake under him as you did so.

He lets you relax, setting you back down on the pillows and kissing along your stomach, and lower belly. “Feel good?” He asks.

“Amazing.” You breath out.

“Good, I’m no where near finished with you so…”

“There’s more?!” You question him with an astonished expression. Sapnap laughs as he helps you sit up, this time, laying down and looking up at you.

“I want you to sit on my face.” He ordered you, his eyes studying your expression to see your reaction to his request in the dim moonlit bedroom. “Ride my face, I can’t get enough of your taste. I want more, please, can I have more?” There’s that needy voice again, one that made you suddenly feel at charge, something you both knew you needed.

You position yourself above his face, slowly coming down, watching Sapnap make hungry eyes at your cunt, parting his lips and sticking his tongue out, ready to devour you once more, you held onto the headboard for balance, not wanting to put all your body weight on him, in fear that it might hurt him, or that he’d have trouble breathing, but Sapnap didn’t care.

If anything, it pissed him off.

He locks his arms under and over your thighs, and pulls all your weight completely onto him.

“W–Wait, Nick I don’t wanna hurt yo–” He cuts you off mid sentence by moaning into your cunt, which sends the vibrations straight to your clit and into your nerves. You let out a clamorous gasp. Your hands tightening their hold on the headboard.

You let your body do the rest of the moving, pleasure and ecstasy possessing your mind and body as a whole, you were drunk off it, bucking your hips forwards, grinding against his face feeling his lips and tongue move effortlessly move against your sopping pussy caused your head to throw back in euphoria as you felt yourself build to orgasm a third time.

“Mm, Nick, sl–slow down I’m gonna…” You try to warn him you were nearing your end but Sapnap took it as an implication to fasten his pace.

He was relentless with your body, with you, how badly he wanted you to remember how good he made you feel, in hopes you’d finally notice him and what he could do for you now and these past years you’ve been best friends.

“I’m gonna, oh god, I’m gonna cum, Nick, Nicholas, shit, shit, fuck!” You chanted out his name like a prayer, slurring out the lewdest of noises between each word that left your mouth as you felt yourself unfold and let loose on him. Sapnap groans out feeling your cum on his face.

It took you a couple of moments before you came to a relaxed state from your third orgasm of the night. You slip off Nick, seeing the shiny slick he hd that trails from his lips, chin, and neck. “Fuck, you just squirted on me.” He laughs, licking his lips.

Your eyes widened, “Oh shit, I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to–”

“No, don’t worry. That was hot as fuck.” He reassures you, kissing your cheek.

For a moment, you both stare into each other’s eyes, you grab his face, feeling the heat radiating off his face onto the palm of your hands. He’d perplexed before realizing that you’re inching closer to his face. In a swift movement, you lock lips with your best friend, Nick. His lips are soft and tender, the lingering taste of your past arousal is now on your tongue. In a way, it was intimate.

When you pull away, Sapnap is just in pure awe with your beauty, he’s gazing at your eyes and how the reflection of the illuminance of outside is shining over your face. He loved you. And you loved him too.

You notice a look that falters his expression for a moment.

His eyes are misting with lust once more, hunger, want, need.

“You’re not done…are you?” You stand corrected when Sapnaps hands trail to your waist, fingers digging into your skin. He pushes you back onto the mattress and towers over you with a confident grin.

“Nope.” He says before giving you the best night of your life.

#submission #sapnap x reader smut #sapnap x reader #sapnap smut #sapnap #smut #dsmp smut #mcyt smut #dream team smut #dteam

[immobiliter]

@apocryphis sent a meme: so you lied to me. (from neuvillette to furina)

       Thank you, Furina. From this moment on, please live happily as a human. Just as I wished we could.

       The water had... gone. Just like that. As she'd stepped outside of the Opera Epiclese, having expecting the encroaching flood to burst its way in through the windows and doors, submerging her gilded throne as the prophecy had always foretold, Furina had been surprised to see those same waters recede without a trace. More surprising still was the sight of the people of Fontaine still living, breathing — as bewildered as she at the turn of events, but not dissolved. Alive. There, by the Fountain of Lucine, were a couple helping each other up. There was somebody else emerging from beyond the hill, soaked through, but walking.

       She did not understand what had just happened, whether the prophecy was wrong, whether the true divinity of Focalors had intervened somehow... or whether she hadn't failed after all. But the shock soon turned to terror as she glanced behind her, back through the doors of the Opera Epiclese, where her once-beloved courtroom and the Oratrice still remained. Everyone now knew that she was not the true Archon. She could not stay here.

       And so that was how Furina found herself back in the Palais Mermonia. Amidst the chaos and combined rescue efforts of the Maison Gardennage, the Spina and the Fortress of Meropide, it had been easy for Furina to return there unnoticed. Or so she thought. Her one prevailing impulse, one that had served her well throughout her endless charade and she found herself leaning on once more, was to run. She had to pack her things and leave. She did not know where she would go, but if the trial had proven anything, it was that she would no longer be welcome here. The people of Fontaine would never accept her again.

       Unfortunately for her, Furina was caught half-way through packing her belongings by a painfully familiar voice. She whirled around on the spot, feeling as guilty as ever under the weight of that steady, discerning gaze.

       “ No! I didn't, I — ” Oh, but she did. She'd lied to him and everyone else, for hundreds of years, though hearing the words spoken by Neuvillette held far more of a sting than they would have from anyone else. She'd had no friends, after all, only subordinates — and the Chief Iudex had been the most constant of them all.

       Lying, pretending, acting... it had become as natural to her as breathing, and even now, she could not force a truthful admission to her lips. She simply stared helplessly at Neuvillette, words deserting her in favour of an anguished cry, forcing her to turn away. Surely she'd already cried enough tears, and yet here they were again, pricking at the edges of her vision. Furina reached up to rub her eyes, steeling herself. Strength, Furina, one last time. Then you can leave the Palais Mermonia and never come back.

       “ Something happened in the courtroom. What was it? ” It was with a much smaller voice that she spoke now. Furina could recall little of what had happened after the Oratrice's verdict was read out, but she was sure that there was more to it than even that. Why had she heard Focalors', Mirror-Me's voice again, after all? Why had it felt like a goodbye? “ The prophecy... it didn't come to pass? ”

#apocryphis #apocryphis: neuvillette #* / answered ( furina. ) #oh they are everything to me i am so feral about this ahhhhh #furina is gonna wriggle wriggle wriggle her way out of this conversation but make her stay put neuv !! i have faith in you !! #i also realised halfway through this that furina probably dissociated through everything that happened after the oratrice went brrrrr lmao #did she miss the whale ? possibly #i am soooo excited i hope this gives you enough to work with :'))

[juddygirl]

The one where Daniel gets a Divorce

Max & Daniel - 1001 words

Daniel can’t believe it, he has to go back to his parents for a while. Maybe just a day or two, enough to sort things out. He’ll call them to let them know they’ll be arriving at their house in two or three hours, he needs to feed the kids still. It’s 8:30 pm and they haven’t had dinner. He’s just had enough time to pack each of them a bag with their favourite toys, and some clothes before carrying them to the car and buckling their seat belt, hands shaking from the adrenaline.. 

They didn’t ask questions, his eldest followed him to the car, clutching the book he was reading by himself. The youngest just cried in terror when his mother started shouting. He’s calmed down now. She says she’s hungry, but Daniel isn’t. 

“Okay princess, Daddy’s going to find somewhere to eat, and then we’ll go spend some time at granny and grandpa.” He says, checking for their reaction in the rearview mirror. 

He keeps an eye on the empty road, and makes a left to a Burger King he just spotted.

He holds back his tears when he tells his mother that it’s over, they are getting a divorce. She tries her best to comfort him, but they expected it. 

Daniel had been nice, always too nice, giving his wife too many chances at proving she still cared about them more than she did her career. That night was the last straw. To Daniel, it was one thing to care about her career, cheating on him was another one he couldn’t accept. She had excuses, some of them probably good. But their relationship had been over for years now. They’ve spent the last year doing nothing but arguing when she was home. He couldn’t do this anymore. 

He lets them pick whatever they want to eat, put a paper crown on each other their little heads and take a picture. His daughter looks so tired, her eyes half closing when he chews her burger he cut in half. She falls asleep in his laps ten minutes later. His son still looks scared, he gets some screen time before they head back on the road. 

The kids are fast asleep in the back, and Daniel wants someone to talk to, he can't stand any of the music in his playlist or anything on the radio.

The first person he thinks of talking to is his Max, he’s somewhere in Singapore right now, there is a race tomorrow. It’s late for him too, and he might be busy, but he picks up. And first makes sure that everyone is safe, that Daniel has somewhere to take them, when he mentions his parents, Max sounds reassured. He’s very sorry Daniel’s getting a divorce.

“Tell them I said hi.” He says, and then tells stupid stories to Daniel. Random things he thought were funny, annoying colleagues and all that and the two hours go by quickly. Daniel has made it to his parents. “Of course you can call me again, if you want to.” it warms Daniel aching heart. 

The phone calls become a regular thing. Both were drivers, Max is at the end of his career, with six World Champion titles, Daniel retired ages ago.

Max knows when Daniel's divorce will be finalised, because he said it once in a phone conversation and Max didn't forget. Daniel never mentions it ever again and instead talks about his new life with the kids, the farm, and how they are watching Max’s last couple of races. Daniel would be there for his last, but you know… Max knows, on the Tuesday following the last race, he signs the papers to end his marriage. 

Daniel got some new animals, big ones he's scared of but the kids love. He's even grown his first carrot, and texts Max "wish you were here to see my beautiful baby". It’s so cringey it makes Max laugh, he replies "on my way" and rings Daniel's doorbell many hours later, freshly retired because the next Daniel will be divorced, and a judge will decide if he gets full custody or not. Daniel wants fairness, and split the custody in two. She’s doesn’t. 

He wants to spend the night ignoring his feelings and do something stupid like in the good old days but his youngest can't sleep, so she stays awake with her dad and uncle Max, she even sits on his laps and not her dads, because she sees her dad everyday, but not uncle Max. 

Maybe then Daniel gets teary-eyed about not seeing his children as often as he would like if they go for a split custody and Max offers the warmest hug and Daniel miss him, even though he's right here, he's missed all of Max, his warmth, his voice, his face, the way his fingers curl around his shoulder, and the filthy stuff he always says under his breath to make him laugh, his smell and his little accent. 

Max doesn't leave Daniel’s side. Grace, Michelle and Joe are here too. The judge grant Daniel  custody for most of the time, she gets them on weekends and for some holidays. 

Max still doesn’t leave his side when they go to dinner to celebrate, not later that night when Daniel cries about this finally being over, not a week later when he’s supposed to fly back to Monaco. 

Daniel is thankful for that. He kisses him, shily when Max mentions his family is gonna fly here for the holidays, because leaving feels wrong. He didn’t need to explain much, as soon as he mentioned Daniel’s getting a divorce they understood. They bring his two cats, and they fit right in Daniel’s farm. He slowly moves in, Daniel makes some room in the closet and dressers, his name gets added to the mailbox, the spare room houses his sim racer now. And everything feels finally right. The kids love him, Daniel even more. 

#daniel ricciardo #max verstappen #maxiel #maxiel fic #juddyswriting

[daddyy333]

Bad Boyfriend | Jamie Campbell Bower x y/n

if you’d like you can reblog my original work, but please don’t post it without credit. if you take inspiration from my ideas please tag me, I’d like to see how someone else would write it

Word count: 2.4k

warnings: Jamie’s a doodoo boyfriend, reader is insecure about if she’s a good girlfriend, Jamie lowk has an eating disorder? Jamie also isn’t sleeping much, uhhhh idk what else let me know

summary: Jamie hasn’t loved you the same for what feels like forever, and you’ve had enough

You sighed, leaving his little producing studio in the house you two shared with a full plate for the thousandth time in the last year or so. Jamie was stressing himself out too much, you knew it. Because of his new role in the Stranger things series he was overworking himself trying to be the best actor for this role.

It started as soon as he got the role, he was going crazy doing research and figuring out his character and then filming got shut down and it got worse. He was fully putting his everything into this character and then shooting started up again and you barely saw him anymore.

He’d literally practically spent an entire month on set once he started filming as Vecna in the suit and everything. He almost always fell asleep on the couch in his trailer or someone would have to drive him home because he was so exhausted. It was heartbreaking to see him going through that, you wished he would just give himself a break or ask the directors if there was any chance he could take a day or two off.

Whenever you’d tried visiting him on set, you spent more time with his cast mates than him because he was so busy. You felt hopeless and like your relationship wasn’t even real anymore. You genuinely can’t remember the last time he kissed you, hugged you, made love to you, or even touched you if we’re being honest.

He’d finished filming a few weeks ago, and you’d hoped that maybe he’d go back to being your boyfriend again but he still wasn’t sleeping, still wasn’t eating, still wasn’t really interacting with you and at this point you were starting to get concerned for his health. He was getting unhealthily skinny, and you could practically sense the exhaustion from a mile away.

He’d been holed up in his studio for the last couple weeks, working on music and really getting back into that groove. You’d made him breakfast, lunch and dinner everyday and you’d be lucky if he ate lunch and maybe a little bit of his dinner.

You set the plate down on the counter and tears filled your eyes, you wondered if maybe it was just you. Maybe he didn’t love you like he used to anymore and doesn’t know how to tell you. Maybe you should’ve tried harder, should’ve been a better girlfriend, should’ve tried to support him more.

You saved the leftovers like you always did, even though you’d end up throwing them away in a few days anyways. You blinked away your tears and washed dishes and cleaned up the kitchen as well. You fed your cat and headed upstairs, showering and getting ready for bed.

You made sure and said I love you and goodnight every night before bed, or you would text it and even if he didn’t reply (which he always did, but it never felt like he meant it) you at least knew you tried. Tonight though, you were done trying.

The last year and a half of your relationship has been completely one-sided, and you are just sick of fighting to keep this relationship going when he can’t be bothered to even look at you sometimes. You were too mentally drained to want to go downstairs and say goodnight to him, so you just didn’t.

It left you in tears, because you knew that there was nothing left between you two at this point. You’d love him till your last breath, but it seemed as though Jamie didn’t even care about you at all anymore. You cried yourself to sleep, staring at the promise ring on your hand, he promised, he fucking promised he’d always love you.

You got up the next morning and showered, and you couldn’t bear to look at the promise ring anymore without crying so you just took it off. That also made you want to cry, considering you’d never ever taken it off once since he gave it to you. You never had a reason to, and it was okay to be worn in the shwoer so you kept it on all the time. But the promise attached to that ring was long broken now, that ring only brought you pain now.

It was your anniversary today, your 5th anniversary of being together. On your 3rd anniversary he made you breakfast in bed and you celebrated beautifully with a little picnic and walked all around the city with each other, going to your favorite shops and just spending time with each other and made love most of that night. Last year, your 4th anniversary, he sent you breakfast, and took you on a dinner date and fell asleep in the car because he was so exhausted from filming. This year, well this year he forgot.

You went the whole day hoping he would at least come out and spend time with you. You had bought him a gift months ago, a new ring, just a simple one but with his and your initials engraved onto it.

You wanted to give it to him anyways, but wasn’t sure if you should. He probably wouldn’t even care. You kept the little box in your pocket all day, fiddling with it anxiously and thinking about you and Jamie.

“Why is your promise ring sitting on the bathroom counter?” He asked as he came downstairs, you were so zoned out you didn’t even remember him coming out of his studio at all. “I-I…I just wanted to clean my hands and I took off my jewelry. Must’ve forgotten to put it back on. I’m sorry” you said and stood up and walked towards him and tried to take it from him but he moved his hand away.

“You never take it off. I’ve seen you wash your hands before you always keep this ring on” he said and you sighed. You grabbed the ring from him and slipped it back on. “I’m sorry. It was just a fluke or something. Won’t happen again” you said and he took a deep breath.

“You also didn’t come in and say “I love you” last night. Are you upset with me?” He asked. You sighed shakily and said “no, babe. Everything’s fine” He could hear the shakiness in your voice and you knew you were about to cry and so did he.

“What’s wrong?” He asked and you looked away slightly, trying to fight the tears. You took a deep breath and said “nothing, I-I’m okay Jamie” “Y/n, you’re crying, obviously somethings wrong” he said and you sniffled.

“I just…do you even know what day it is?” You asked and he shrugged. He looked at his phone and said “Tuesday?” “No, Jamie…it’s our anniversary. And you fucking forgot. It’s not only that, it’s the fact that I don’t even know if we’re really even in a relationship anymore. For the better part of the last 2 years we’ve been growing apart more and more with every day that passes by and I can’t handle it anymore. When you got the stranger things role you dropped everything, including me, and put everything into the show. I know that acting is very demanding of you and is something you need to focus for but it’s like you don’t even care about me anymore! I tried to be supportive, I tried to understand-but I can’t! I can’t remember the last time you kissed me, or- o-or hugged me or the last time you even touched me and it’s frustrating. I cook you breakfast, lunch, and dinner every single day and you don’t even look at it. I tried to get you to rest and relax for months and you didn’t care! You don’t appreciate anything I do anymore! This promise ring is nothing now, you broke it a long time ago. I cant keep fighting for our relationship, it’s so fucking one sided, at this point we’re just goddamn roommates. I miss my boyfriend, god damn it. I thought after filming I’d get him back but you’re still fucking avoiding me, you’re still not sleeping, you’re still not eating, you’re still stressing yourself the fuck out! I tried Jamie, I tried for over a year and I can’t anymore. It’s eating me up and ruining me inside. Happy goddamn anniversary” you snapped. You got up and threw the box with the ring in it at him, running upstairs.

He stood there in shock. Warm, salty tears ran down his face. He knew he’d been focused on working, but he really didn’t realize it was this bad. He couldn’t believe he forgot your anniversary, how could he?

Of course he cared about you, he was very much still in love with you. He couldn’t believe he made you feel this way, made you think he didn’t love you anymore.

He picked up the box and opened it, seeing the ring you had made for him. Why the hell would he ever screw this up? You were so good to him, so supportive, you were the best thing that had ever happened to him.

He slowly made his way upstairs and knocked on the door, he could hear you crying softly on the other side.

“Please just leave me alone. You’ve managed just fine this entire time, now I’m asking for it” you said and he let out a shaky breath. “I’m so sorry, y/n. I just want to talk, please?” He begged and you opened the door hesitantly.

He sniffled and said “I’m sorry” “I’m sure you are, Jamie. But “I’m sorry” isn’t gonna make almost 2 years of being ignored go away. You have no idea how painful it’s been to watch you overwork yourself, and watch you wither away cause you won’t eat or sleep” you said and let out a shaky breath, moving to sit on the bed.

He still stood in the doorway, ashamed of what he’d done as he said “I-I know that…but there’s no words to excuse what I’ve done. I still love you like you wouldn’t believe, I never ever wanted to make you feel this way. I guess I just got too wrapped up in my work and it caused me to abandon the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I shouldn’t have let it happen, but it did and the only thing I can do now is try to make it up to you”

You stayed silent a few moments burying your face into your knees whilst you cried as you had curled up against the headboard. “H-How do I know it won’t happen again? I can't go through this anymore, if I do it again it’ll break me” you said and he whimpered.

He moved inside the bedroom and sat in front of you, grabbing one of your hands softly. “I’ve done something I never ever thought I would do. I never thought I would hurt you this bad, I never wanted to. If you can give me a second chance I swear on my mother I’ll never, never ever let my ignorance cause you to hurt this badly ever again. I swear, if I had thought you were in even half as much pain I would’ve dropped everything for you. I’m so goddamn sorry, y/n” he said and you closed your eyes, more tears wanting to spill.

“As much as I’d like to pretend I don’t care about making this relationship work anymore, I really fucking do…I’m just- I-I’m scared” you said and he bit his lip, he really was the shittiest fucking boyfriend on the planet right now. You took the promise ring off and said “you have one more chance. Promise me you won’t ever do this to me again. If you do it’s over, and I’ll be outta here before you can even think about convincing me to stay”

“I promise” he whispered softly and slipped the ring back on you. He kissed your hand, sniffling softly as he pressed gentle kisses to it. “Thank you…” he said and you nodded. You were still terrified to trust him again, but he seemed so genuinely upset with himself you were willing to give him one more chance.

“Now…I’m gonna go make dinner, and you’re gonna eat the shit out of it cause you’re getting really really small and it’s freaking me out” you said and he chuckled softly, nodding. He followed you downstairs and you talked some more, talked through all the issues and all the pain he had brought you and why the two of you thought he had gotten this invested in his work, enough to do this to you.

“Can I sleep in the bed tonight?” He asked and you nodded softly. He curled up next to you, both of you facing each other. “I’m sorry I ruined our anniversary and the last 2 years of your life,” he said, you both chuckled softly.

You played with the edge of the blanket as you said “it’s okay…don’t worry, we talked about it, and it’s gonna be okay” “can we celebrate tomorrow?” He asked and you nodded. He brushed your hair behind your ear and kissed your head.

“I love you so much” he whispered and you bit your lip, fighting tears again. He awed, wiping them away and apologizing. “No, no it’s okay…I love you too” you said and he chuckled softly, cupping your cheek.

He lightly spooned you whilst you both slept that night, and ordered you bagels from your favorite bagel place. He called his team while you were still sleeping and got himself lots of time off to fully be with you, and repair the damage he’s done.

It took a few months but by the time the show was released things were amazing between you two. You had never been stronger together, he’d drop everything for you in a second if he even sensed you might be having a bad day or something like that.

“Thank you…for a second chance. And for showing me I’m only human and need rest and food regularly” he said, cuddled up with you as you both watched the first 6 episodes of the season as it had just come out last night.

You smiled and said “how could I not? Can't resist that pretty face. Plus I love you way too much” “I love you more” he said and tightened his arms around your waist. He kissed your temple and sighed softly, nuzzling into your hair.

As of now I’m writing for

Eddie Munson

Joseph Quinn

Jamie Bower

Steve Harrington

Robin Buckley

Eddissy

Maya Hawke

So just comment the taglist you want to be added to and I’ll add you :)

#jamie campbell bower #jamie bower #jamie bower x reader #jamie campbell bower x reader #jamie campbell bower x y/n #jamie bower x y/n #jamie

[rocknrollsalad]

💍 steddie holiday drabbles - proposal (ft. buckingham)

👰 Eddie and Steve think they're fine not getting married, who needs that piece of paper to prove anything? Maybe them a little bit.

💍 content/trigger warnings: period typical homophobia

💒 word count: 1231

Glass cases greet them long before any person does. Wrapping from display window to display window and lined with soft, gray rows glittering in what little sun the clouds allowed to squeeze through. It’s unreasonably bright for this time of year and that has to be a good omen.

Not that there needed to be omens of any kind. This was a day Steve thought would never come. A day they all convinced themselves they didn’t care about. The conformity, the thousands of dollars, and from what their friends said, a miserable day. No part of it sounded necessary.

Steve liked the way they didn’t have to hide anymore. He didn’t have a roommate, he was dating Eddie. Half the population could handle hearing that and Steve tended to surround himself with that half.

They weren’t from a very progressive state so that was the best they were going to get and they were okay with it. Not just Steve and Eddie but Chrissy and Robin stood in solidarity with them. Or they supported each other when the rally cries weren’t enough. In those moments of “weakness” where they wanted to be like everyone else.

Canada was a choice, not that far away, but it added to the show of it all. Why travel that far to get a piece of paper? Steve had committed to Eddie and Eddie to Steve. A commitment they’d both held since before they could legally drink. Never once did they stray. Saying “I do” seemed unnecessary.

The four of them looked at each other through tear-stained eyes when it became a legal thing they could do in their own state, no traveling, no domestic partnership, and said it was silly. They were thrilled for the younger generations but they didn’t need the ceremony.

The next day Chrissy and Robin were at the courthouse with the masses of other people. They didn’t even bother to invite Eddie and Steve, a random couple plucked from the line got to be their witness and they returned the favor. Which stung a little but they were so happy it was impossible to stay mad.

Still, Eddie and Steve held strong. They didn’t need a wedding or any of those trappings. They had each other and that was enough. Plus, if they were going to get married, they’d do better than standing at city hall with strangers. Not that they were going to but if they did.

If they did, they’d take Steve’s last name because nothing good ever came from being a Munson. Something Steve wanted to argue with but he was just old fashioned enough to want to keep his name. However, they were happy being the Munson-Harrington household. It had a nice ring to it. Better sounding than Eddie Harrington.

But if they did want to get married, Eddie could pick their kids up from school without a call to Steve first. One was nearly graduated, the other on their way to a driver's license, so being checked out of school by a parent was only really needed for the youngest. It was a lot of money to spend just to easily get one kid out of school for a couple of years more.

As dumb as it all sounded, Steve was raised to think marriage was important. He’d find a nice wife, get a good job, and have a few kids. The keys to happiness. And, sure, he got all of those things and more. A nice house, a loyal dog, amazing friends, fun hobbies, and they even got to travel. So his wife was a husband, somehow that felt more right. Steve was incredibly lucky so he didn’t need to get married.

He did want it. A little bit. He wanted to stand in front of all those amazing friends and cry about how much he loved Eddie, gross their kids out, and walk away from a preacher as husband and husband. For so long he had to stuff that down and be okay without but now it could happen.

And when it came out late one night, exhausted from a day of kids' sports and a dance recital, Eddie admitted he wanted it to. Even as a kid, before he’d met Steve, Eddie was sure marriage would never happen for him but meeting Steve both gave him hope and dashed it. They’d gone through a lot of changes in what they were allowed to show and who they were allowed to be, why not this one?

After decades of explaining why they’d never get married, Steve and Eddie were looking at the very real possibility of making that commitment. Or making a show of a commitment they already made.

The one thing Steve knew was he was going to do it “right”. In all the cliche ways. None of this justice of the peace stuff, that worked great for Robin, Chrissy, and so many other couples (who went on to have lavish ceremonies later…Eddie and Steve were invited to plenty) but not them. Eddie was the master of giant spectacles so they were going to put on a show.

Which was why Steve was walking slowly around so many glass cases, the third store they’d gone to, because he was going to get down on one knee and ask Eddie Munson to be his husband. And endure jokes from everyone about needing help backup.

Eddie was going to gasp and giggle and say “yes, yes! A thousand times yes!” because he was an idiot. Steve was ready. Hell, he wanted it. To watch Eddie pretend to cry and fawn over the ring. To tell him and Chrissy to go get manicures and not let him know why. More importantly, make some grand plan only to have it all go wrong. They were going to get everything!

So Steve stood there and told yet another clerk Robin wasn’t the lucky lady, she was the best man, and brace for impact. This store seemed understanding. Not just of the husbands aspect but who Steve’s future husband was. Eddie wasn’t looking for a princess cut or the biggest rock, he needed something that fit his day-to-day aesthetic.

Something between what the twenty-somethings who wished they could get married would want and what the months away from fifty-year-old man Eddie was now. It was a weird line to skirt and Robin didn’t help matters by putting the choices on and ranting about how kids today don’t know real struggles in her best Eddie voice. Apparently, it was to give Steve an idea of how it’d look on Eddie but mostly it put him at ease. This had become something major and Steve couldn’t mess it up. They were only doing this once.

When the clerk brought out a black band, lines twisting around the whole thing cut out to reveal a deep red underneath, Steve knew he’d found it. He shared a gasp with Robin and she didn’t even try this one on. They knew. They knew who it was for.

In two weeks it’d be the right size and Steve would be one step closer. Now he had to figure out how to not rush home and tell Eddie. They weren’t great with secrets, many birthdays had been ruined by this, but Steve knew he could do it.

Plus, he had to figure out how to propose.

#grammarly called this one a bit bland #but i thought it was pretty good #it's not read through though #hey everyone come see what i wrote now

[tngrace]

Cry, Baby

Story inspired by real life events and this song, “Cry Baby” by Mitchell Tenpenny.

I have to thank my discord babes so much for listening to me the last couple of days, and for reading over this last night when I wrote it like a madwoman that just had to get it out. There might be more stories for Spicy & Roo one day in the future; I truly loved writing them & I hope yall enjoy it. 

Discord babes: @callsign-dragonbaron @mrsjaderogers @bayisdying @biehnybaby @askmarinaandothers @mischief-siriusly-managed @cycbaby @callsignscupcake @breadsquash

Grace “Spicy” Bradshaw stared at the shower floor as tears cascaded down her cheeks. She was using the water to muffle the sounds of her sobs so they didn’t wake her husband just yet. Bradley had to be up in an hour to go to class, and she wanted to let him sleep as long as possible. She’d been so hopeful that today would bring the news they’d been hoping for, but instead it just brought the same disappointment the last year and a half has brought. She felt like she was letting Bradley down tremendously, and truthfully she wanted to tell him he deserved better.  

She should’ve known he’d come find her when she was up earlier than expected, but it still surprised her when the door opened. “Spice? Babe? You’re up early?”

She quickly wipes her eyes and clears her throat; “Yea, yea I woke up early. Decided to just go ahead and get ready. Didn’t mean to get you up so early.”

“Mind if I join?”

She sucks in a deep breath and holds it; she turns her face into the spray despite knowing her eyes will be red and puffy anyways. “Yea, come on in.”

Bradley gets in behind her and pulls her back into his chest. His chin rests on top of her head as he holds her, letting the warm spray wash over them. “Grace,” he whispers. He only uses her real name when it’s something serious, always using her nickname or some version of it. Slider had given her the nickname based on the food and spice level of it when she took over the grill at the Hard Deck ten years ago.

She sinks into his hold, biting her lip hard enough to almost draw blood. “Talk to me baby.” She shakes her head no as more tears fall down her cheeks.

“I …. Can’t. I…. I just knew this time was going to be different.”

Bradley’s arms tighten around her; he knows right then that despite thinking she’d finally gotten pregnant, she had in fact not. “We’ll just keep trying.”

“Bradley…. You….”

“Don’t say it Grace. Don’t say I deserve better.” He finally spins her, but her eyes drop to his chest and his dog tags unable to meet his eyes. He gently tips her chin up, and her eyes close, tears sneaking out around her lids. He cradles her face between both of his large hands, his thumbs gently wiping the tears away.

“Open your beautiful eyes, Spicy.”

Her breath shudders out, but her eyes slowly open to meet the chocolate brown ones she loves so much. “I love you, and only you. I want you, and only you. If this is all we have, just me and you, we will be ok. But we also still have options. We’re going to try those meds and if that doesn’t work, then we look at other possibilities. I know for a fact if we went to Dad, Uncle Ice, any of the many Uncles and Aunts in our family, we could have the help to make any option possible. This sucks, I know; I know you’re feeling crushed, and today is going to be rough and full of lots of tears. But you, my dear beautiful girl, are all I want, so don’t tell me to find anyone else.”

Spicy collapses against his chest and just cries as he holds her as tight as possible, letting the water keep them warm. Bradley holds her tight, murmuring over and over how much he loves her, how much he’s there for her, how much she can cry to him anytime. Once the water starts cooling off, he washes her hair and runs some conditioner through it before quickly scrubbing his own while she stays wrapped around him. Once they’re both clean, he wraps a towel around his waist and goes to the bedroom to get dressed, letting her have the bathroom to do what she needs. She takes a few minutes to try and compose herself, but it doesn’t work. The tears don’t seem to want to stop. She slips into a pair of shorts and one of Bradley’s t-shirts she’d grabbed on her way to the bathroom that morning.

He’s sitting on the side of the bed waiting on her. She carefully settles in his lap, facing him, with her legs around his waist. She rests her head under his chin, her fingers tangling in his dog tags. “You’re going to make the best Dad one day, and I wish I could make that happen for you, more than anything,” she whispers.

His arms rub up and down her back as he holds her close. “We’re going to get that one day, I promise you, Spicy girl.”

They stayed cuddled like that until Bradley has to get ready for class. He tucks Spicy into bed, “Text me or call me if you need anything today. And I’m sure Pen can manage just fine if you don’t want to go in tonight.”

“Don’t worry; I’ll be ok. I’m not going to cancel on her last minute. I’ll be fine once I’m distracted.”

“Promise me if you’re not, you’ll stay here or come get me.”

She gives him a soft smile and a kiss. “I promise Roo. Now go before you’re late.”

Bradley reluctantly leaves; he wants to text his dad or his uncles to go check on her later, but he also knows what it’s meant to her to keep this a secret to keep the pressure lower on them. He’s glad he doesn’t have a hop that day because his head stays with his girl all day.

Spicy spends the morning in bed, and heads into the Hard Deck around lunch. Penny can tell something is wrong, but she also doesn’t push. She texts Bradley to see what’s going on, but all he’ll tell her is to keep an eye on her. Spicy spends the majority of the day in the kitchen, and when Bradley arrives after class, waving to his uncles and dad in the back corner, he heads straight into the kitchen to check on her.

“Roo,” she smiles, leaning up for a kiss. The kitchen hasn’t been too busy that day, and Bradley can tell she’d deep cleaned everything to keep her mind busy.

“Ready for a break? Dad, Ice, Sli, Chip, Wolf and Wood have the back corner claimed.”

“Roo, I…”

“Penny says you’ve been in here all day, and the kitchen is sparkling.” Spicy sighs as she leans into Roo’s embrace.

“You’re right I’ve been hiding. But I’ve been thinking. Your insurance covered the tests and meds, and I know it’s been a lot on you not sharing with everyone.”

“Grace..”

“No, let me finish.” At Bradley’s nod she continues. “We’ve gotten lucky not having to pay for what we’ve done so far, but if this doesn’t work, we could be forking out more money than we need to on our own. We don’t know how much longer we’re going to be on this journey. You’re a very open person with your family, and I love that. And I know I’ve had you keeping this a secret, and I know there are times you’ve wished you could talk to someone about it. So maybe we should tell them.”

Bradley wraps her in his arms. “You’re just doing this for me, and I know it.”

“I do everything for you Bradley Nicholas. I’d give you the whole world if I could.”

“I’d do the same for you Grace Michelle.” Spicy leans up and kisses Bradley soundly. She lets him take her apron off and hang it up, before telling her assistant that she was done for the night. Spicy wrapped her hand in his, and let him pull her to the back corner where their family was waiting.

Spicy takes the open seat beside Mav, Bradley’s dad instantly pulling her into a side hug, while Bradley pulls up a stool on her other side. As per usual they start off by complimenting the snacks she’d sent their way, before they observe them both. Bradley is telling them about his class that day, but it’s Slider who picks up on Spicy’s quietness. It’s almost like she was still the shy girl they’d met when she’d moved there, instead of the confident outgoing girl she’d become in her ten years in San Diego. He shoots a look at Ice and then Mav before turning his attention back to her.

“B, you’re rambling,” Ice finally says, all of them catching the soft sigh he lets out.

“Yea… Yea I am.” He laces his hand with Spicy’s, giving it a squeeze, before he meets six pairs of worried eyes.

“I’ve had him keeping a secret from yall,” Spicy says, before Bradley can say anything.

“Grace…”

“No B, it’s true.” She finally looks around the table. “We’ve been trying for a baby for a year and a half now, and I didn’t want him to tell anyone because I knew it wouldn’t be easy for us to get pregnant because of me. I didn’t want anyone to get their hopes up just to be crushed over and over.”

She feels Mav’s arm sling across her shoulder and squeeze her tight to his side. He’s been like a dad to her ever since she started dating Roo and realized he was essentially Bradley’s dad too. “Oh kiddo,” he sighs, placing a kiss on her head. Bradley doesn’t let go of her hand, but doesn’t miss how she practically melts into the hug.

She takes another steadying breath and pulls herself upright once more. “My doctor ran some tests about a couple of weeks ago, and in two days I’m going to be starting meds. If after three months they haven’t helped, then we have to either look at other options or give up. This… This morning was rough and there were a lot of tears, but I’ve spent the majority of the afternoon hiding in the kitchen and cleaning and thinking. I know it’s been hard on B keeping this a secret from yall and everyone basically, so I decided we needed to confess.”

In the next instant she is pulled up off the stool into a crushing group hug from their family. Bradley is wrapped in one next, before everyone settles back into their seats. Spicy laughs as she wipes tears off her cheeks, laying her head on Bradley’s shoulder, giving his hand a squeeze. “We’re here for anything, we mean anything, you two might need. No matter how big or small.”

“Thanks, Dad,” Bradley smiles over Spicy’s head. He knew they’d be understanding, but he also understood Spicy’s fears. They spend the next hour explaining her health woes and what all her doctor has recommended. When Spicy starts falling asleep, worn out from all her cleaning and emotional turmoil, Bradley pulls her into his lap.

“Get her home son. We can talk more when you’re both ready,”  Mav promises.

“Thanks Dad.” Bradley scoops her up carefully, Ice following him to help with doors, promising to bring her car home for them. Spicy never stirs, and once home, Bradley tucks her into bed.

Three months later

Spicy is staring at the sink, not moving, not blinking, not even really breathing. The knock on the door startles her enough to cause her jump and squeak. “Spicy? You ok love?”

She opens the door, and Bradley instantly assumes she’s started, late, again. “Oh baby, we can…” but that’s as far as he gets before she’s jumping up and kissing him. He instantly catches her, her legs wrapping around his waist.

“Spice?”

“Roo it finally worked,” she whispers, staring into those chocolate eyes. “It worked! Congratulations Daddy.”

“You’re serious?”

She points at the sink, where five positive pregnancy tests lay. “I’ve done one every morning for the last five days because I didn’t believe them. We’re finally having a baby.”

A week later when they finally have an ultrasound to confirm, they learn that one of the major side effects from the meds happened; they’re having twins. Two and half months pass before Spicy is comfortable telling everyone. Mav and all the uncles knew because Bradley had been way too excited not to tell them, but they’d all kept the secret like she’d asked. Now that she’s showing and well into her second trimester, the ‘86 flyboys plan a huge party at the Hard Deck to celebrate. Spicy and Roo are showered in so much love and excitement, that all the pain of trying slowly melts away. She can’t wait to see Bradley as a daddy and all their family being wrapped around the babies’ fingers.

#bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw fic #grace spicy bradshaw #spicy x roo #bradley rooster bradshaw x oc #post top gun maverick #post tgm #top gun maverick fic #tgm fic #86 flyboys #found family #tw: infertility #tw: trying to concieve #happy ending #mav is bradleys dad #my writing #song fic #Spotify

[jebiknights]

Was tagged in a couple of tag games and I need a palate cleanser rn so!

Tagged by @squad-724

Are you named for anyone? I was named after the main character of Bewitched lmao. My mom was watching the show a lot when she was pregnant with me

When was the last time you cried? Uhh probably last night who knows over what though I've been teary lately. I might've just been listening to emotional music.

Do you have kids? Nope!

What sports do/have you played? Nothing rn because I am BROKE. But I snowboard, wakeboard, and kneeboard seasonally. I also rock climb but don't have money for a gym membership for it right now.

Do you use sarcasm? Yes???? Weird question lmao.

What's the first thing you notice about people? Hair. If their hair isn't showing then whatever head covering they are wearing typically.

What's your eye color? Gray!

Scary movies or happy endings? It's not really a this or not lmao. I definitely watch more scary movies though than a lot of other types.... Both are fun though!

Any talents? I'm a pretty good artist when I bother to practice/keep up my skills. I like to think I'm a pretty decent writer too.

Where were you born? Midwest USA girlie here

What are your hobbies? Been reading a lot lately! Both fic (as it's a crutch for me lmao) but also been making an effort since I have extra time (job hunting ugh) to read more like actual books too lmao. Playing a lot of video games rn too!

Do you have any pets? Apartment has one cat currently. She's a former stray named Tuna. My family has 4 cats though lmao. We got two pairs from fosters at dif times. I want another kitten for the apartment but it's too small :((

How tall are you? I feel like half of these are drivers license questions lmao. A little under 5'7"

Favorite subject in school? Psychics and History

Dream job? Right now? Having one lmao. Would love to be a published writer one day. Also when I no longer am suffering burn out I still want to be an archaeologist but that's a goal in like... 10 years lmao.

--

Honestly anyone who wants to see this is free to take this as a tag <3

#tag meme #thanks for the tag! #long post #sorta

[fool-who-dreams]

shooting star

summary:

After Peter got blipped away you started talking to the stars everyday, hoping he'd hear you. Until one day...

Warnings: Infinity War and Endgame spoilers. This is quite sad, but not entirely. Mentions of death.

Everything around you had started vanishing little by little: rocks, trees...people. It felt like a Russian roulette, the tension was eating you alive. All of your anxiety faded, replaced by grieve, panic, anger, desolation and disappointment, the moment you heard Peter's shaky voice.

"Mr Stark, I don't feel so good." Was the first thing you managed to hear as your internal conflict started to tear your heart apart.

One side of you wanted to deny that it was happening. You couldn't be losing Peter, the person you secretly were so sure you'd end up with but you were too scared to admit.

On the other hand, though, you couldn't risk to lose him without telling him what had been going on in your head for the past year. You couldn't let him go if he didn't know how his smile made you go dizzy; how his touch made your heart pound against your chest; how you were sorry that you had failed him.

"I don't wanna go." He said before falling onto your shoulder as you held him tightly, not willing to let go for the world.

Tears started blurring your vision but you quickly blinked them away, not wanting to miss a single glance of the boy that could've been your last.

"Pete, it's okay." You cried, trying to keep steady your shaky voice. You had to be strong for him, or at least pretend to be, just for a couple more seconds. It was all going so fast. Too fast.

His body was turning into dust and you knew you couldn't hold onto him for much longer before your knees would give you up and collapse onto the ground.

"I can't go. I never got to tell you that I'm in love with you, I don't wanna-" 

Your eyes started dripping uncontrollably as you started calling his name, aware that it would be useless. Within seconds you had collapsed onto the ground, feeling as if nothing would make sense anymore now that you had lost not only the battle that could've saved billions of people, but the love of your life with it.

He was gone. Forever. And so was half of the global population. Worst part is, he never got to hear the words you should have said a long time ago. But your heart ached the most at the thought of how all of this could've been avoided: if you had done more he would still be here, families would still be united, Thanos wouldn't be a threat for any other planet in the universe. 

You soon found yourself in Tony's cold suited arms, both crying and sobbing until sounds started to fade and everything became blurry. You thought that maybe your time had arrived, too. And maybe it's crazy, but you couldn't wish for anything else but for you to be next to Peter again. And if, in order to do that you had to be snapped away from the planet, you were ready for it.

Much to your dismise, you had just passed out due to your wounds, blood loss, dehydration, massive physical efforts, brain shock due to trauma.

— one month later —

"Hey kid, what's up?" Tony asked as he stepped into the kitchen.

"Same as always." You confessed, poking your food with a fork and swinging it around in your plate.

He took a seat across from you as he set his beer in front of him. "You have to eat. At least you've gotta try. It's been a month and this isn't healthy. Can you do that for me? For him? Please." He begged softly.

You slowly nodded as teardrops started marking your cheeks.

—🕸———🕸———🕸———🕸———🕸———🕸———🕸———🕸—

"Hey, it's me again. I hope I don't bother." You announced as you laid on your back on the grass. Every night you sneaked out Tony's house to sit down on the grass and relax. Every night your speech started and ended with the same words.

Since the whole thing happened, you had decided to come down here at night so that you could talk with Peter. He always was your star, now more than ever and you needed to tell him now because you never brought yourself to tell him when it actually mattered. 

"I hope you're doing good. No, I hope you're doing amazing because I'm doing awful. So, you know, we kinda need to balance it." You joked, trying to lighten your own mood. "At least I properly ate something today for the first time in a while."

"I miss you, Peter. I really do. And I kinda hate myself for that. I know that if you were here you'd tell me it's not my fault, you'd probably thank me for even just trying but we both know it is my fault and you're just too kind to admit it. God, I miss you like crazy." You tried to hold back your sobs.

"I'm so sorry that I failed you, I know you counted on me. I'm so sorry that I let that monster just blip my powers away, together with you. You don't even imagine how hard it is to eat, sleep, leave the room without feeling guilty for everything. I know I'm probably not going to sleep tonight as always, but you're probably busy playing chess with Strange or something."

You sighed, trying to smile weakly. "I should've just told you this a long time ago, but I love you." 

And in that moment a shooting star crossed the sky making you smile through the tears that had started drowning your sight not even a ten words into your speech. Right after you pronounced the last words of your monologue, 'I love you', every night a shooting star would run across the sky right over your head, making you smile nostalgically and think that this might not've been a monologue after all. 

You wanted to be okay. You wanted him to be okay. You needed Peter to be back, to be with you. You wished to open your eyes and being told that it was all a dream by the love of your life laying next to you.

Yet, deep down you knew it could never happen and it felt as if it was all your fault.

— one year later —

"Y/n" Pepper shook you gently. "Y/n, it's time for school." 

You opened your eyes, trying to adjust to the light coming through the curtains. It was the first day of your new school and you didn't want to be late. You reluctantly got up and got changed.

You had asked Tony to move you to a new and closer school. You didn't feel comfortable with going back to Midtown when you knew that the only good thing that school offered wouldn't have been there. He wasn't going to be there.

You rushed downstairs, ate breakfast and said goodbye to everyone before leaving.

"You alright?" Someone asked as you zoned back into reality. Looking around you noticed you were in the chemistry lab and you couldn't even recall how you got there. It was hard to focus when chemistry was the last thing on your mind.

"Yeah." You mumbled as your eyes met a blonde boy's.

"I'm Josh. You're new here?"

"y/n" you introduced yourself. "And yeah, I'm from Queens. I've moved recently." You offer him a polite smile before

"Well, welcome then. You don't know many people I take it. I mean, you're new and all. You want to sit with us at lunch?"

"That's really kind, I'd like that." You reply, feeling hopeful that not all the good people were blipped away.

Lunch went by pretty greatly to be honest. You got to know Josh a little, as well as his friends: Mia, Logan, Harry and Sally.

Once you headed back home, Tony was ready to greet you with some homemade snacks.

"Hey kid! How was school?"

"It was alright, I even made some friends." You smiled softly. 

"Friends?" He looked at you, surprised by the statement. "That's nice."

"Yeah" You breathed out. "Yeah, it is."

"I'm proud of you." He affirmed, kissing the top of your head before walking towards his lab. "Now go do your homework."

"Yes, boss." You mocked, laughing lightly.

Buzz! Buzz!

Group Chat

Cool Kids 🕶

Josh - Wanna hang out tonight?

Harry - Yeaahh

Sally - Obv. We can catch a movie?

Mia - I'll let u know by tonight :)

Logan - Movie sounds great!

You were about to text them back, saying that you'd be happy to join when a reminder popped up on your screen.

'Blip.' - Today, all day -

It had been a year already?

You pushed up the notification before deleting the text and writing a new one.

You - Sorry guys, can't today.

—🕸———🕸———🕸———🕸———🕸———🕸———🕸———🕸—

"Hey, it's me again. I hope I don't bother." You said as you sat down at your usual spot.

"Today has been quite hard. I know I said I was getting better but I think today brought me back a bit. It's been my first day back to school. No, not Midtown, a new one. Anyways, I've made some new friends and they asked me to hang out tonight but I told them I couldn't. I mean, I have other plans." You look up.

"I know you would never want me to cancel my plans to mourn you but here I am. I mean, everything is going so fast. It seems like yesterday that I waited at your locker while talking to MJ and Ned about everything and anything." You sighed, taking a deep breath in.

"You know, it's been a year and I still can't even think of moving on. It sucks." You bit your tongue to prevent yourself from crying and decided to change the topic. 

"Today I found a four leaf clover, you know? While I wad going to school. That made me smile. I guess those things work because you know I've never been the type to make friends so easily."

"It's kinda late now, I've got school tomorrow. Goodnight Pete. Say hi to Ned and MJ too, tell them I miss them like crazy. I love you."

Punctual as always, the comet shot through the sky.

— three years later —

"Hey, y/n! Wait!" You heard Josh call from beside you as you were about to leave the school. 

"Oh, hey Josh." You smiled. "Can I do something for you?"

"Yeah, actually." He asked confidently. "You see, I kinda like you and I wanted to ask you out. Maybe tonight?"

You were taken aback by the words of you best friend of three years. You didn't know how to feel about this, a piece of your heart would only belong to Peter but maybe it was time to move on.

You accepted, smiling widely to mask your doubts and headed back home.

—🕸———🕸———🕸———🕸———🕸———🕸———🕸———🕸—

"Hey, it's me again. I hope I don't bother." You smiled, sitting on the grass. "Sorry, I know it's late, I just got home from...alright, I went on a date. It's weird to be talking about this with you of all people but do you remember Josh? Well, he asked me out at school today and we met up tonight. He was really sweet and kind and- we almost kissed. Don't worry, Tony has your back, he ruined the moment." You giggled.

"Truth is, I know you'd want me to move on but I don't know how to feel about him. It's been three years. Three years. Maybe it's time for me to...you know. Even though I don't want to, it's probably not too healthy to keep pushing everyone away." You sighed.

"Anyways, it's pretty late. I'm meeting Josh again in a couple of days, I'll try to figure it out as we go I guess." You concluded, getting up on your feet.

"Goodnight Pete." You looked at the sky for a couple more seconds, waiting for the comet that didn't seem like it would come.

"Hey! No goodnight tonight? What are you, jealous?" You chuckled lightly. "You know I'll always love you, right?" 

In that moment the comet shot across the sky as every other night. You frowned at the sight but quickly shook your head at the though that the shooting star could really be Peter's deed.

"Miss you too."

"C'mon babygirl, how about we put your toys back in place and we go to bed?" You suggested, but it was really more of a demand. 

"But I'm not tired!" Morgan whined playfully. "How about we play some more?" She asked, giving you the puppy eyes that always got her anything she wanted from Tony.

"You'll be the death of me." You laugh playfully before agreeing on five more minutes of playing.

"I want to say goodnight to dad." Morgan smiled, fiddling with the toy in her hand.

"Alright but let's make it quick, you shouldn't even be up by now." You chuckled, leading the girl to the door. Once you head down the stairs, Morgan sits on the last step to observe her father. You stand up next to her, still holding her hand.

You gently nudged her to go on and say goodnight to him so that you could put her to bed and get some sleep yourself.

"Shit!" Tony mumbled suddenly.

"Shi-" Morgan tried to repeat but was cut off by your hand on her mouth. You gave Tony an apologetic look as you shot the girl a serious glare.

The man turned around, locking eyes with the girl before softly smiling at you.

"What are you doing up, little mess?" Tony asked his daughter. You took your hand off Morgan's lips so that she could reply.

"Shit." She giggled again, making you pinch the bridge of your nose with your thumb and index finger, shaking your head lightly.

"No, we don't say that. Only Mommy says that word. She coined it, it belongs to her." Tony explained in all seriousness, making you chuckle at his words.

"Why you up?" Morgan asks.

"'Cause I got some important shit going on here."

"Tony!" You hissed, shooting a disbelieving glare at the irreverence of the man.

"No, I got something on my mind." He shot his hands up in defeat as he looked at you, then back at the girl. "I got something on my mind."

"Was it Juice Pops?" Morgan asked.

"Sure was. That's extortion. Great minds think alike. Juice Pops, exactly was on my mind." He commented, looking back for a brief moment at the hologram that was behind him.

The man got up, taking the girl in his arms and lifting her up to take her to the kitchen. You looked at the scene as your heart filled with joy and pain at the same time. Even though you had lost everything and everyone in the blip: your parents, your friends, the boy you loved.

The only thing you could be grateful for was your newfound family: the Starks. Tony and Pepper had taken you with them ever since the blip happened. You had been with Morgan ever since she was born, you were like siblings and the adults were like parents.

No one could ever replace your actual family but the Starks were the closest thing to that. You were happy you had a new family and a new group of friends, even though no one could possibly replace the original ones.

The only person you weren't quite able to move on from was him. Mainly, because you didn't want to.

"Tell me a story." Morgan demanded after she had finished her juice pop and was laying comfortably in her bed. Tony was kneeling beside her bed, their heads at the same height while you were standing up straight, a few feet back.

"A story." The man pretended to think. "Once upon a time Morgan went to bed. The end." He spoke quickly, making you chuckle.

"That's a horrible story." Morgan stated, joining you in the giggle.

"Come on, that's your favorite story!" He joked. "I love you tons." He said before getting up and kissing the girl on the forehead.

"I love you 3000." Morgan replied as a smile painted on all three of your faces. You felt your heart melt at the innocence of the girl and you could only imagine the kind of joy that ran through the man's veins.

"Wow." He whispers, turning off the lamp.. "3000. That's crazy." He adds softly before opening the door and stepping outside of it. "Go to bed. Or I'll sell all your toys. Night, night." He joked in spite of his straight face. You chuckled, watching Tony as he left.

You gave the girl a kiss on the forehead too after having moved some chunk of hair. 

"Goodnight babygirl."

"Wait." She called. "Dad hasn't told me a story. Can you?" She asked.

"Of course." You smiled, taking a seat on the girl's favorite chair which was definitely too small for you. "Which one do you want?"

"I wanna hear about Spiderman!" She clapped her hands together excitedly.

"Spiderman? How do you know about him?" You asked surprised. You would be lying if you said that you didn't feel your heart sinking at the only mention of that name. 

"Dad always tells me stories about him." The girl smiled. "He says it keeps him alive."

At those words your heart sunk even deeper, making your eyes start to water at the memory of his last words to you, right before he left. That day was the anniversary of the blip, it was five years since you last had seen Peter. Or everyone else in your life. Or in the world.

"Is it true that you have powers?" She asked.

"Yes, Spiderman and I were good friends." You confess, trying to fight back the tears.

"Can you tell me about that?"

"Of course babygirl." You nod weakly. You knew that talking about him would've broke you but Tony was right. "It keeps him alive."

The moment the girl had drifted to sleep, you looked at her for a few seconds, smiling. You then left the room, allowing yourself to run to the roof before giving in to your breakdown.

"Hey, it's me again. I hope I don't bother. I miss you. So much. And I hate that. You know why? Because you're the best thing that had ever happened to me and now-now you're the worst. In a sense. God, I hate this." You mumbled before wiping your tears and taking a deep breath.

"Five years. That's a long time. Is it weird that it still hurts so much? I literally dumped Josh for you and you're not even here anymore. I feel awful." You stopped, taking in a deep breath to prevent your voice from cracking and your tears from falling anymore.

"You know, I wish you met Morgan. She's just like Tony, you'd love her. Plus, she's a fan of Spiderman." You smiled at the image of your Peter playing with your Morgan. 

"You know, today someone came to visit. Yeah, Cap, Nat and a few others. They wanted to talk to Tony God knows what about, but it must've been important. I mean, it's Captain America reaching out to Tony Stark we're talking about." You chuckled through the tears before letting melancholy take over again. "I'm sure they miss you, too. But I miss you more."

Your eyes were glued to the sky as the tears blurred out the already unclear image of the moon. "Goodnight Pete. I love you." You took a shaky breath before spotting the comet that shot across the sky every night.

"Wow kid, that was deep." A voice called from behind you. You quickly turn around a little embarrassed and wipe off a few tears with the back of your hand.

"How much did you hear?" You ask, sitting up straight.

"Enough." Tony replied, taking a seat next to you. For five years he had been blaming himself for it all. He should've never put Peter such danger. He was just a kid, and now...he's gone.

But how often do you get the chance to make up for your mistakes? Well, this was his.

"You were really close, huh?" He asks as he pats his shoulder for you to lean your head on.

"Yeah, he- he kinda told me he had feelings for me before..." You couldn't bring yourself to finish the sentence without breaking down in tears again, so you voted against it.

"He did?" Tony asked surprised by the revelation. "God, it only took him a purple space monster who canceled half of the global population to ask you out." He commented sarcastically, making you chuckle lightly.

"You know I love you as if you were my own daughter, right?" He asked, causing you to nod softly. "I love you tons."

"I love you too. 3000." You replied mocking Morgan's words as a soft chuckle left the man's lips.

A comfortable silence fell on the two of you as you admired the horizon. The darkness of the night held you as a comfort blanket, and you felt safe as the man's arm wrapped around your shoulders.

You loved the night, for it was the only moment you could feel Peter speaking back to you.

"I think-" He cleared his throat. "I think we can bring him back. We can bring them all back."

— one month later —

 You were sleeping in your bed at the Avengers facility in Peter's arms as a knock on the door woke you up. 

"Yeah?" You mumbled while sitting up, still pretty much asleep. Peter opened his eyes and replicated your motion, focusing his gaze on the half-opened door.

"I can't sleep." Morgan admitted while fidgeting with her hands. "And mom comes back tomorrow from her work trip."

"Do you want to sleep with here?" You asked, already knowing the answer. The girl nodded, mumbling a "yes please".

You pecked Peter on the cheek before getting up to pick the girl in your arms. "Alright, you sleep here with Peter." You kissed her on the cheek too before setting her down on the bed.

"No, you can stay." Peter offered.

"Why can't you both stay?" She asked.

"The bed is small, it'll be uncomfortable." You explain with a tired smile.

"Please, stay." She asked, giving you both the puppy eyes. You look over at Peter who nods, meaning that he was okay with it.

"Alright babygirl, we'll stay." You smile genuinely before crawling back in bed next to the mosh important people in your life.

'This is perfect.' You thought.

"Can you tell me a story?" She asked shyly.

"Sure," Peter spoke while wrapping his arm around the both of you. "Which one do you want to hear?"

"Mom always tells me about Ironman." She confessed. "She says it keeps him alive." Your hear broke at the girl's words, both for their meaning and the memories tied to them.

"Alright then, Ironman it is." Peter smiled sadly, starting to tell the story of one of the superhero's adventures. Morgan put her head on the boy's chest as she leaned into every word he said.

After the story was over, though, your eyes refused to close. You missed him. Tons.

Stories about him would help Morgan and Pepper keep him alive, so you decided to feel him there your own way.

You got up quietly, trying not to wake up either one of the two, and you tiptoed all the way to the roof. You sat down and looked at the stars, allowing your tears to finally flow freely.

"Hi, it's me again. I hope I don't bother." You begun.

"You should really change your opening line, I don't feel special if you use the same one for everyone." Peter's voice made you turn around quickly. "Plus, you never bothered me in five years, I don't think he'll mind." He continued while walking and then sitting next to you.

"You- you heard me?" 

"Of course I did. Every night." He smiled while locking gazes with you.

"So the shooting star-" You furrowed your brows. "Was that you?"

"Oh yeah, remind me to thank Strange for that." He chuckled lightly before stretching his arm across your shoulders, holding you tight and closer to him. A comfortable silence fell on the two of you.

"Do you want me to go while you two catch up?" Peter asked while drawing small circles on the exposed skin of your arms.

"I'd like you to stay. Besides, I bet you have a lot to tell him, too." You smiled. Peter knew how much this moment of the day meant to you, and he couldn't help but feel happy and loved when you revealed that you would like him to be part of it.

As the two of you spoke, the night seemed frozen in place. You took a trip down to memory lane amongst the many stories and hopes. A soft breeze lifted up each time you shed a tear or a laugh, making Peter hold you closer to prevent you from the cold.

It was about 4 am when you and Peter started feeling tired. 

"Goodnight Mr. Stark and thank you for everything." Peter said standing up, yet not diverting his gaze from the stars.

As those words left the boy's mouth, the sky lighted up for a moment as the moon suddenly released a sort of aura around it that took over the whole sky.

You felt a warm tear running down your cold cheek, making you smile lightly as you leaned into Peter's arms.

"We miss you too, Tony."

#spiderman x reader #marvel x reader #mcu peter parker #soulmate!au #spider web #x reader #peter parker fanfiction #spiderman fanfiction #tony stark daughter #tony stark

[ellcrys]

15 questions

Tagged by @itstimetodrew~!! Thanks for the tag!! ☺️

1. Are you named after anyone?

No, I don't think so! I think my parents just went through the list of baby names for girls and settled on Joanna lol.

2. When was the last time you cried?

Uhh... I teared up watching one of the episodes of Blue Eye Samurai a couple days ago but the last time I Cried was on my flight back to Boston last Friday rewatching episode three of The Last of Us lmaoo. (I was like SURELY I won't cry on my nth rewatch... #rip to me)

3. Do you have kids?

*Puts on my meme hat* What am I a child bride?

4. What sports do you play/have you played?

Swimming and soccer growing up. I did ballet for like a year or two also when I was like 5. Since graduating college I haven't really done any sports, just working out at the gym pre-pandemic and then at home since the pandemic, although one of my friends is trying to start a pickup soccer group which I'll probs join if it takes off. Do want to get back into swimming again also. That's on my 2024 todo list. I've tried running as a hobby enough times to know that I suck at it and that I hate it lmao.

5. Do you use sarcasm?

Does anyone not? lol

6. What is the first thing you notice about people?

Hmm, probably their outfit; I enjoy seeing people's different styles!

7. What's your eye color?

Brown <3

8. Scary movies or happy endings?

Happy endings!!

9. Any talents?

Ugh, no?? I can't think of anything lol. Being a procrastinator and the ultimate lazy bum (only half joking). idk man, I used to be proud of my writing and amv skills but I haven't seriously tried to write anything in probably a decade and I don't think I'm ever getting back into making amvs lol. Letting things go/being resilient maybe? I'm at the point in my life where everything is just 'it is what it is', but I think I've always been good at moving on from things tbh. Life's too short to dwell.

10. Where were you born?

Wisconsin of all states lol

11. What are your hobbies?

Nothing creative anymore, that's for sure (#rip). Uh, I love going out and doing things. I'm the furthest thing from a homebody so being trapped at home during the pandemic drove me nuts. Things I do on the regular include visiting independent bookstores, art museums, and seeing shows. I try to travel/see someplace new on the regular, whether that's going out of state/country or walking through a new neighborhood in the Boston area. I love eating, definitely a foodie. I read a lot (more fanfic than actual lit these days whoops) and watch a lot of tv. I also enjoy just walking around and people watching (will frequently walk around the neighborhood/city without any real purpose in mind as I go crazy if I'm cooped up in my apt for too long). I also love sending snail mail and exchange postcards monthly with a friend in London, and send holiday cards/postcards to family/friends when I travel. I guess documenting my interests on Tumblr can also be considered a hobby considering how much time I spend on here lmao.

12. Do you have any pets?

No, but I plan to adopt a cat when I (hopefully) get my own place!

13. How tall are you?

5'4" :')

I'd love another two inches... just two measly inches :')))

14. Favorite subject in school?

Growing up, probably math. I was good at it, and I loved how logical it was. I also really enjoyed chem, probably because it was the most math adjacent science (hilariously though, I hated physics). In college obviously computer science, my major. Though I've always loved my literature classes also.

15. Dream job?

Man I'd love to open and own an independent bookstore/cafe. Dream job for real.

Tagging (if you want!) @lordsardine, @goldshitter, @akechikurusus, @popflythesky, and anyone else who wants to do this!

#this was fun and it's been a while since i've done one of these so thank you for the tag! #only two weeks late lol #tagged