A sampling of some of the many, many universes in which Viktor Nikiforov and Yuuri Katsuki didn’t somehow manage to avoid each other for TEN+ YEARS and are already happily married (Inspired in part by the musings of @kiaronna and @pearlo on this topic from this post):
In 2010, Viktor is leaving an Olympic after party because it has just more or less dissolved into an orgy and that’s not Really his scene. In this universe, he decides not to go back to his room and instead finds his way to an outdoor seating area, which is not very heavily utilized given the fact that it’s February. There is only one other person out there–an athlete with his back turned, curled up onto a bench. The lettering on his jacket says Japan. “Mind if I join?” he asks, and the other man turns to reveal dark hair and the deepest eyes Viktor has ever seen. “Oh,” he squeaks. “No. Go ahead.” They sit, and talk, and three hours later exchange phone numbers. Instead of going to America to train, Yuuri Katsuki goes to Russia to train under Yakov Feltsman. He takes National gold in 2011 and marries Viktor in 2012.
Phichit accidentally posts a video of Yuuri doing a bit of Viktor’s 2013 free skate to Instagram, instead of the hamster video he meant to post. The video makes its way through the figure skating grapevine until, obviously, reaching Viktor. Viktor immediately DM’s Phichit, begging to know who the man in the video is. Yuuri wakes up to six missed calls, 609 Instagram notifications, 49 texts and a DM from Viktor Nikiforov. “I WAS ASLEEP FOR AN HOUR,” he shrieks. Phichit takes complete credit for their marriage in his speech at their wedding less than a year later.
Through the careful and judicious saving of money for several years, and because in at least one timeline the main waterline in the onsen and the transmission on the family car don’t go kaput in the same year, Yuuri’s family is able to send him to one of Yakov Feltsman’s ice skating boot camps when he is fourteen years old. Viktor is there, all shining hair and huge smile and new celebrity. He has just placed at the Turin Olympics and is on his way to becoming a Russian household name, and Yuuri has been in love with him for two years already. “Yuuri!” Viktor coos across the ice, over the heads of the fifteen other skaters in the bootcamp. “Keep your hips even! It won’t make it so hard to turn into your Axel!” “Yuuri! Don’t hunch your shoulders on the spread eagle!” “Yuuri! Your thigh should be parallel to the ice on that sitspin!” “He’s incredibly skilled for his age,” Lilia tells Yakov in the back of the rink one day. “And Vitya has been behaving remarkably well, since he came here.” She fixes her eyes on Yakov, deep and determined. “He’ll be old enough to make his senior debut next year. If we groom him through his last year of juniors, he could bronze in his first GPF, or better. I want him, Yasha.” Yakov Feltsman is not in the habit of denying his wife those few things she asks of him. Yuuri Katsuki returns home after that bootcamp to pack his things and collect his dog and hug his parents goodbye. “I’ll take good care of him, Mr. and Mrs. Katsuki,” Viktor assures from a Skype call. “He’ll be getting the best training in the world. I even have a poodle, so Vicchan won’t be lonely during the day!” Hiroko and Toshiya just smile knowingly. Yuuri Katsuki is newly fifteen when he moves to Russia and begins sharing a condo with Viktor Nikiforov. He is sixteen when he wins his first GPF silver, and eighteen when the Vancouver Olympics roll around and he stands below his best friend on the podium and accepts silver for Japan as Viktor accepts gold. He is nineteen when, after five years of glances and touches and shared secrets and tears and laughter, Viktor pulls him into bed. “About time,” is the general consensus to that. They have only been dating, dating-dating, for five months when Viktor asks him to marry him. “I know it’s quick,” Viktor says, “but I feel like–I feel like we’ve known each other all our lives, anywa, so what’s the point in waiting?” Yuuri, of course, feels the same way.
Viktor makes a split-second decision to touch up his make-up before a press conference at the Trophee de France 2011, and as he’s patting the sweat marks off his temples hears the definite sound of someone crying. “Um,” he announces to the otherwise silence bathroom. “Are you okay?” “Yeah!” comes the answer, shrill. “I’m totally fine!” “You don’t sound fine,” Viktor says, and ducks his head to see which stall has feet under it. In the last stall, he sees a pair of badly-abused sneakers. He straightens up and knocks on the door. “I’ll leave you alone if you want me to, but I can–if you want, I can show you a better place to cry. Than here.” It takes a moment, but the door opens. The man in front of him has watery eyes and puffy red cheeks and Viktor isn’t sure he has ever found someone so beautiful. “Okay,” he whispers, and Viktor leads him onto the roof where instead of crying, he stares out over the skyline and tells Viktor about his home town. Viktor never does discover why Yuuri was crying, but he does get his phone number–and he does visit his hometown with him, a year later, to tell Yuuri’s family that they’ve decided to get married.
Yuuri is somehow convinced by Phichit to go out with a group after Skate America in 2013–Phichit is in his element, leading people around the city with expansive gestures and the effortless social confidence Yuuri has come to know of his best friend. “You’re from this city too, aren’t you?” asks someone at Yuuri’s shoulder, and Yuuri turns from Phichit’s monologue to see Viktor Nikiforov of all people. Yuuri, distantly in the back of his mind, realizes that he didn’t see Viktor before because he is wearing a hat, scarf, and enormous sunglasses. “Um, not from here,” Yuuri says, trying not to squeak, “but I–we both live here, Phichit and I.” “But you know the city,” Viktor says, “so that means you would know a place where I can get the most disgustingly greasy food imaginable and you and I can go there and my coach never needs to know?” “Yes,” Yuuri says immediately, because he may be timid around most people, and especially around his idol, but he has more than enough sense to realize that His Time Has Come. “I can absolutely do that.” Yuuri takes Viktor to American Coney Island, where they eat loose burgers and chili fries and drink diet coke, which is the only cession to their diets. “Oh Yuuri,” Viktor laughs at the end of the night, a speck of chili cheese still at the corner of his mouth, “I could fall in love with a man like you.” And he does.
Celestino wins a radio lottery and receives tickets to Champions on Ice in Las Vegas–he decides to take Yuuri and a rinkmate. Yuuri’s rinkmate is nice, but he doesn’t know her very well, and he’s several years younger. She also has friends in Nevada who she wants to meet up with, and Yuuri doesn’t know anybody in the state for obvious reasons. On the first day they are there, Yuuri’s rinkmate disappears with her friends and Celestino takes his wife and goes exploring on the strip. Yuuri stays in his room and plays Pokemon and Skypes his mother. On the second day, Yuuri goes shopping for souvenirs for Yuuko and his family, and stares far too long at the billboard of Viktor Nikiforov’s face that is advertising the ice show. That night, he debates which of the three posters he brought with him he should bring to have Viktor sign, before deciding on none–the odds that he will meet Viktor Nikiforov tonight are practically not any higher than they were when the were on opposite sides of the world, and Celestino won’t want to wait in the long autograph lines. “Don’t you want an autograph, Yuuri?” Celestino asks after the show, and Yuuri thinks it’s nice of him even though they both know that the polite thing to do is say no. “No,” Yuuri says, staring at the long line, and continues out of the building. They branch off then–Celestino has dinner plans with his wife, and Yuuri’s rinkmate is meeting back up with her friends for some clubbing. Yuuri is walking back to the hotel when he bumps headlong into somebody’s solid chest. “Oh, sorry,” they say, and steady him with hands on his shoulders. Yuuri looks up and finds the same icey blue eyes frm that billboard yesterday staring back at him. “Oh,” Yuuri whispers, wide-eyed. “You’re–” “Shhh,” whispers Viktor Nikiforov, pressing a finger to his own lips. “Don’t give it away, I’m hiding. “VITYA,” someone from the alley leading back towards the ice center screams. “Come on,” Viktor laughs, and tugs Yuuri away by the hand. It’s the spring before Viktor will cut his hair, and it flies out behind him in a magnificent cascade as they run. They find their way into a club, where Viktor buys them drinks and laughs and laughs no matter what Yuuri is saying, and then drags him out onto the dance floor. Yuuri has not yet met Phichit Chulanont, who will drag him to pole dancing classes and teach him how to move his hips like a weapon, but he and Viktor get by in the crush of bodies, pushing against each other. “I think I love you,” Viktor breaths against his neck, and they’re both three sheets to the wind, but Viktor is Russian and Yuuri is a college student and their tolerance is astronomical. They aren’t even stumbling. “I know we only just met, but I think I love you.” “Then let’s get married,” Yuuri blurts before he can help it, and Viktor beams. “Yes!” he cries. “Yes, let’s do that!” It isn’t hard to find a place that will marry them–even though Viktor’s signature on the certificate looks more like a drawing of a tree, and even though Yuuri’s tie ends up around his forehead halfway through the ceremony. In the morning, Yuuri wakes up with the worst hangover of his life, fully-clothed next to Viktor Nikiforov, and says, “We can–this happens all the time, we can have it annulled.” Viktor stares down at the ring on his finger, tangled hair all over one shoulder. Yuuri realizes that he doesn’t even rememer where the rings came from. How much did they cost? “I would rather not, if that’s okay,” Viktor murmurs, and so they don’t. Yuuri carries out the rest of the year in Detroit, wearing the ring around his neck on a chain and thinking about his husband, half a world away, waiting for him.
For writers, speaking scenes are either the bane of your existence, or the highlight of your day. On one hand, when characters are talking, it can really help further a scene and help with character development….but on the other hand…writing dialog is such a chore….blugh. So here’s some ways to write better dialog in your stories!
Give Your Characters Voices
Is your character southern? Do they have a lisp? Are they shy? Outspoken? Do they use a lot of big words, or are they an easy talker? Are they more likely to lie with confidence, or do they need to pause a lot to collect their thoughts? These are all factors that help build up a character’s profile, and to add realism to your dialog. Make sure to keep each character consistent – example: if Character A is an angry and resolute character, they wouldn’t stammer or blush when they’re caught off guard – so that your characters keep their individuality.
Embrace the Power of Verbs
Obviously, there’s a huge difference between ‘said’ and ‘yelled’ and ‘screamed’, but there are so many fics where ‘mumbled’ is an overused verb. Unless your character is incredibly shy – or loves to whisper insults under their breath – nobody mumbles every other sentence. ‘Quipped’, ‘snarked,’ ‘said indignantly’, ‘joked’, and ‘laughed’ are some of my favorite verbs.
Moving the Scene Through Dialog
If you’re ever terrified of having a scene turn into a monotonous he said/she said conversation, then break it up with actions! Have Character A yell at Character B as they angrily slam the car door, or Character C say “huh?” as they try to clear water out of their ears. Here’s a few examples.
“You look like crap!” Madison tried to touch the side of her
face, but Liz jerked her head back. “Are you like, sick? Your eyes are
all red and puffy.”
“Yeah, just a second.” Jade watched as the bright orange petals swirled down the drain.
Scout visibly recoiled from him. “Uh, no. I’ll pass.”
Talk to Yourself
This is the best trick; it’s what I do when I’m
writing dialog. I’ll put on different voices and talk aloud to myself in order to feel what sounds natural and what sounds plastic-y. You
may feel ridiculous when you’re up at 2am and repeating the same lines over and over again to yourself, but believe me, it will show in the final drafts when your characters are interacting.
Finally, Have Fun
It’s such a cliche tip that it makes me want to cry from boredom, but having fun with your dialog makes it infinitely easier to write. If your inspiration is just bone dry, have your characters get silly with their dialog – “Sir, that really hella dangerous experiment is going critical” “oh dang, lmao, we should probably leave?” “yes most definitely” – because even then, you’re getting your ideas out and you can come back later. Also, it’s hilarious. In the end, writing is supposed to be a fun hobby, so find what works for you and keep on doing it!
- In which Harry is a bit.. inexperienced in the bedroom.
Harry thought he could hide it. He thought he could get away with it. But, when everything came to him so all of a sudden, he realized that he was trapped, and the only way to get out, was by telling the truth.
And so he did.
“What?” you ask breathlessly, your hands at the mid of Harry’s patterned shirt, fingers frozen on the buttons, pulling the colorful fabric away from his tall and lanky form.
The way Isak sees himself in the morning (if he can open his eyes long
his shirt is crumbled
his hair is in wild disarray, strands sticking up in awkward angles
his eyes are small and almost always sticky from sleep
his skin is a mixture of paleness and red blotches
his face slightly puffy
The way Even sees Isak in the morning
his crumbled shirt makes Isak look so cozy and he is just so warm
his soft blond curls endearingly ruffled
his usually bright green eyes beady and still a little dazed
his face sporting a cute blush on those high cheekbones
his mouth always drawn into a pout (and anyway, the way his boy glares at the
world or who ever invented mornings makes him look like a disgruntled kitten and
makes Even go weak in the knees and his stomach flip and his heart swell and
press a thousand kisses all over Isak’s face, where a slow smile spreads at the received affection)
A/N: Well, it’s been a full month since my last fic that I posted and I felt like it was time for a new one. Another Harry Styles fic because he’s such a legend and I love him so deal with it. This took me a good few days to finally finish, hence why it’s legit the longest thing I’ve ever written, because I wanted to get this really good because I literally write my fics in one night normally so enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it x.
Warning(s): Cheater!Harry, sad themes, swearing, a section of smut with very minimal Daddy kink
Word count: 8,005
Pairing(s): Harry Styles x Reader / Harry Styles x OC (Original Character)
It ain’t the gun, It’s the man behind the trigger. Gets blood on his fingers and runs. It ain’t the lie, It’s the way that the truth is denied.
A relationship that had withstood all trying odds thrown at it, time and time again. A relationship that, from the outside, never once seemed anything short of miraculous. Four years of that relationship had been a blessing and to her, nothing and no one could ever give her the satisfaction nor sensation of pure love and dedication, she feared she may never find something quite like it again.
It’s funny how certain situations arise, that are unexpected in the worst way possible, which make the mere thought of carrying on with the toxicity of a failed relationship unbearable.
It had taken a whole three months for her to coax a confession out of her tattooed lover which, during that time, almost made her physically ill to think about him, not only being sexually (but possibly also romantically) inclined with another woman, but lying so blatantly to her face about the multiple occasions he had, ‘ran out to get some deodorant’, during the dead of night, only to come back to their shared home in the morning with a different type of exuberant smell catching in the air from his body and clothing.
When confronted about this, however, the long-legged man stood in front of her, but yet, no eye-contact was maintained, and shook his head, pushing past the fragile woman he claimed to love for an extended period of time before slamming the heavy, mahogany bedroom door, muttering incoherent sentences on his way that normally consisted of, “Gettin’ on my fuckin’ last nerve”, and, “I ‘ave half the mind t’ leave you right fuckin’ now”.
Of course, it was when the luminous moonlight danced across the wooden floorboards of the bedroom, illuminating the whitewashed walls as if it was their own private, personal stage where they could showcase their undying love for one another, or so she once thought.
It was when the early hour of 3am came creeping around the corner with only the sounds of the wind whistling and the leaves whispering to keep her company as she laid in an empty, king-sized, luxurious bed that was meant to be a symbol of their companionship.
It was when she felt the all-too-familiar feeling of abandonment and loneliness twist inside her gut as fresh, hot tears sprung to her eyes and trickled down to her ears whilst unmoving and staring at the intricate detail of the high ceiling. She had been doing this for so many nights she was near confident that she could recite how many swirls and dots collected in the design from her counting.
Of course, it was then that she understood that she was no longer the apple of his eye. That he had escaped from her hold and found refuge in someone else’s arms. Someone else’s kiss. Someone else’s touch.
He would never admit this though, no, he would much rather sneak back into his own home where his significant other would lay, pretending to be asleep through her dry, tear-stained cheeks, rolled over to her side of the bed with him removing his clothes to slide skilfully underneath the untouched covers on his end, like he had been used to trying to not disturb her, before pressing a chaste kiss to her neck and whisper those three words that held no real regard.
He didn’t mean it.
Not since he started smelling like a perfume she could not recognise.
Every morning, a smell of fresh coffee and breakfast foods invaded his privacy that would jolt him awake, noticing his lady of four years had already made her side of the bed and left him a note in her cursive handwriting, that he used to adore, as she did routinely since they moved in together.
And every morning he would stalk downstairs to find her cooking for the both of them out of the kindness of her broken heart despite knowing about his infidelity and unfaithfulness before he wrapped his strong, manly arms around her trembling waist as sobs racked through her entire being.
Although, these said tears were soothed almost instantly as she felt the dry lips of the man she loved along her jawline and neck, peppering gentle kisses to her skin. She knew she shouldn’t be so easily swayed when he hadn’t even muttered a single word to her but she couldn’t control her feelings; feelings of anger and despair quickly dissolving into ones of adoration and desperation towards the figure looming over her.
A shaky hand was raised to caress his prickly, stubbly cheek as she closed her eyes and enjoyed one of the rare moments of intimacy the couple shared nowadays, willing herself not to shed any more saltwater from the seas swirling in her eyes.
A waft of the faint smell of cinnamon and honey contrasted with her regular scent of vanilla and fruits that brung her out of her Harry-induced daze, making her pull away from the man she could no longer trust.
“Don’t walk away from me. Please. No’ today.” He pleaded, she almost could have believed he was being genuine if it weren’t for the black lace thong she’d discovered discreetly hidden inside his trouser pocket whilst doing the laundry last Sunday. He knew this, yet he still didn’t bother to hide the piece of evidence elsewhere. It was almost as if he had wanted her to feel her heart drop to her stomach.
“Harry, by my walking away, it gives you the leverage you need t’ turn in the opposite direction and in'a her bed.” She spoke in rebuttal under her breath; hoping her words wouldn’t travel far enough and stop short before they could reach his ears; in a way, recreating how whenever she gave him her all, it never seemed to find its destination within him and instead go off-track.
Perhaps that was the reason why her love wasn’t reciprocated.
“Wha’ did you jus’ say t’ me?” The sound of heavy footsteps coming back round the large, marble countertop placed in the middle of the spacious kitchen to her after grabbing a snack from the cabinet, not only made her anxious but also incredibly uncomfortable as she never wanted to carry such negative conversations with the center of her affection, knowing that he would deny all the objectives she would present to him, similar to how he had before.
“Don’t worry ‘bout it, baby.” She forced a fake smile onto her face, an expression she had grown accustomed to whenever she looked too deep into his pools of jade he called, ‘eyes’, digging out information she never thought she would have to read. She turned her body around to crash against his chiselled chest, trapping her between the oven and his own furnace, his body giving out warmth she used to find comfort in. “I didn’t say anything important, I promise, now gimme a kiss.”
Seemingly satisfied with the answer he was provided with, he leant in to press his lips hard against hers and rested his palms on her hips.
Undoubtedly, it was one of the most difficult things she had ever had to do. To kiss him as if her heart wasn’t crumbling like the walls around her; suffocating her, was too much to bare as she finally pushed him away and wiped her lips with the back of her hand.
“How dare you stand here and kiss me with tainted lips you’ve put on another girl. How dare you stand here and pretend you’re committed t’ us. And how dare you stand here and make me a fool for loving you when you go out and make love t’ that woman you found at a dingy, dark nightclub one lonely winter’s night.” The streams of emotions flowed down her red, puffy cheeks as she expressed her discontent and disappointment from within.
It had been a long time coming and she knew she couldn’t hold it in any longer. Not when he made no effort to admit to his wrongdoings, but instead gave her false hope towards a relationship that was barely alive.
His arms tried to reach out towards his beautiful explosion but she couldn’t stand to look at him for longer than she had already endured and backed away from his softening stare.
He couldn’t continue his façade, not anymore.
“No, sweetheart, please…” He began to somehow explain months of late nights and cold shoulders, but she had heard and lived through everything she needed to in order to make her final decision as she knuckled away her falling tears and practically sprinted to the bedroom to collect her belongings. “It jus’ happened! It was out of my control, baby, you have t’ believe me!”
She had to leave.
No more could she sit there and act as if they were the couple they used to be in the beginning. No more could she sit there and act as if he was the man she fell in love with.
The door clicked shut just as she zipped up her suitcase, signalling he’d now entered the room that was once filled with the purity of their love. The moment he slept next to her curled up body in the middle of the Stygian night after he spent his evening in a stranger’s bed, the barrier was broken and was replaced by one of deception and distrust.
His feet padded furiously against the pristine, fluffed rug situated at the center of the space before slamming his hand on top of the lid of the luggage in an attempt to keep the woman he genuinely loved deep down from leaving him.
“Harry. Get your hand off.” She threatened with a calm, gentle voice which she never used unless she was livid behind her cool, collected nature.
“Listen t’ me. I didn’t mean for this t’ happen, I didn’t mean t’ lie t’ y-…” He, again, was cut off by her forcefully lugging her property out from under his grasp and onto the floor with a loud ‘bang’.
“It wasn’t the lie! It was never the lie! I’ve known for months, Harry. ’S the way you denied the truth every single time I asked you about it! And if you’re implying that that’s the worst of it, I don’t even wanna think about the things you’ve done t’ her and vice versa.” She stayed glaring straight into his watery irises for a few seconds before spinning on her heel and walking out, deserting a broken man with his broken heart gazing at the now wide-open entrance with traces of her vanilla scent lingering but her nowhere to be found.
You’ve been killing softly and finally, That is too much. (Oh) And I’m all out of whiskey, To soak up the damage you’ve done. (Oh)
You would think drowning her sorrows in her tears and heartbreak would’ve been enough to express her emotions but no. She had managed to find herself amongst sweaty, filthy bodies in a large bar from which she had drunk her fifth glass of strong alcohol, she could barely see straight.
With the toxic fluids coursing through her veins, the pumping bass of the latest chart-topper beating her heart for her, and conversations of the blurred people around her resounding in her psyche, she had had enough.
Hard to believe, but it was a rare occurrence that she would even bother to dress herself up and emerge from her temporary abode, with her estranged high school friend she had recently been in contact with, to appear at the local bar she used to go to with Harry whenever they wanted to get away.
It used to be a sort of sanctuary for the two of them. It used to be a chance to just talk about their day and their feelings to each other without anyone else prying into their business. But now it was, and would forever be, “the place where he met her”.
“The place where he inadvertently broke the bond between lovers which he vowed to never do”.
Yet still, there she was.
Sitting alone on a high stool, gripping the side of her glass so tightly that the beads of condensation evaporated under the red heat of her fingers and inner turmoil.
She had just been staring at the wine glasses hanging down from the ceiling, like bats in a cave, whilst downing her beverage in record speed which allowed her to move swiftly onto her next drink. Even the bartender had started to get conscious of her intake and that was enough for him to then refuse to supply another source of liquor.
Her newly rekindled friendship with her high school classmate had been put to the test that evening and unfortunately, by her having no one she knew around in her presence, let her know that she need not care for the whereabouts of her friend as they didn’t care for hers after the second round of alcohol.
The sudden deprivation of a stinging solution making its way down her throat since she had been scolded like a child for the excessiveness of her drinking, made her mind wander into the fields of betrayal that replaced the meadows of happiness she used to frolic in with the man she used to think she would one day marry.
As soon as her gaze fixated on the empty glass in front of her, the saline tears poured over the barrier of her waterline and left her silently sobbing through her harrowing heartbreak.
Dying from a broken heart was something she had only read about in the news and never once believed it to ring true but as she sat there, in Harry and her bar, she could practically feel her chest contracting and splitting into two halves. Although, she didn’t really understand how considering he still had her heart in the palm of his hands and desperate for his love.
The mere sight of a grown woman openly, and drunkenly, weeping must’ve been hard for surrounding strangers to handle since by the time she had ceased her muffled cries to soft sniffles and looked up with bloodshot, sore eyes - most of the partygoers she had mixed in with had departed and left only her and a few stragglers behind with a busied bartender wiping down spilt beverages with a cloth.
The palms of her hands were raised to her reddened face and rubbed over her features to try and soothe her outburst of feelings as a heavy sigh was blown out from her pale lips in response to the heavyweight she felt in her chest.
Heels clicked on the floor of the building as she dug into her purse to find flimsy pieces of paper that represented a form of payment she could offer the man behind the counter for the alcohol she had consumed.
“On the ‘ouse.” A clear, but deep voice sounded from in front of her as her glass was collected, “Yeh look like yeh had a bad one so don’t worry 'bout it.”
Her hard and focused stare switched from her trying to find her money in her purse to kind, pitiful, sapphire eyes as she faced the generous bartender.
“Noo. No, I can’t jus’ no’ payy yew. ’Ve 'ad like nine'een drinkss-..” Her slurred speech in between her not-so-subtle sniffs and hiccups made the stranger chuckle and she watched how his shoulders moved, fascinated by the way they were connected to his body that she felt the need to touch hers to confirm her suspicions that yes, she had shoulders too.
“Don’t mention it, love, I’ll call you a taxi.” He informed the unsteady woman the other side of the counter before picking up his phone and dialling a number he knew off by heart from the amount of times he had to ring because of previous passed out customers.
A completely innocent and everyday nickname she had been called before by many people, but this particular time made her legs shake and her lip quiver as she fought to hold back more streams of sadness.
Harry used to call her, “love”.
Harry used to show her love.
And Harry used to give her love.
But that was all gone.
All of it wasted and bestowed onto the other woman in her relationship.
She supposed it was a good thing that he had decided to take that route. She supposed it was a good thing that he made it clear she wasn’t enough. That she wasn’t what he wanted. That way she could confidently move on and find another to treat her right.
But her heart wouldn’t allow it.
Her heart remained in the familiar hands of her puppeteer and continued to make his own lovesick puppet out of her. Why? She may never understand. She only knew that he had a fatal hold on her; squeezing ever so softly but growing tighter with each and every day that passed by, that she feared she might have wound up helpless and perishing in his addicting arms.
He had been killing her softly, albeit unknowingly, but she had finally decided it was too much and escaped his grasp physically.
His emotional duress on her, however, was a different story altogether which she thoroughly believed she would never be able to evade.
If there is one thing that I’m guilty of, It’s loving and giving when you take too much. //•// If there’s anything I’m guilty of, It’s loving you too much.
“Harry, stop!” The exclamation was followed by a giggle as she extended her hands out to cover the lens of the new, vintage camera she had purchased especially for him on their third year anniversary as a strong, steady couple.
“You’re jus’ the most gorgeous thing I’ve ever seen, darlin’, I 'ave t’ take photos t’ capture your beauty.” He exaggerated and winked when he switched his eyes to stare at her smiling face rather than through the viewfinder.
“Ew, you’re such a dork.” A pillow was lugged at his head which, as a result, made his curls fly out in every direction possible, him then looking like a human version of Simba. “You look the most attractive you’ve ever looked right now, baby.” A snort came from her button nose as she reached for the device in his hands, turning it on him and clicking the shutter multiple times at different angles.
“And you just sounded the most attractive you’ve ever sounded.” He spoke in rebuttal before shaking his hair out of his face and tamed it slightly.
A playful pout was brought upon her lips as a sign of her disappointment that her masterpiece was ruined but she continued to shoot amateur pictures of the stunning man with legs either side of her hips since she would never tire of looking at his perfectly structured face and features that were God’s gift.
“Oi, ’m s'posed t’ be taking pictures of you, my love.” His hands found their way to his hips and she figured that, in that moment, he had never looked more adorable so the shutter sounded once more to signal that she’d documented the sight on the roll of film in the camera. “’M gonna need yeh t’ stop before I get rowdy.”
“Rowdy?” A loud guffaw sounded as she lowered the camera down to her lap and just merely glanced up at the mess of curls on top of her in disbelief and fond. “I’d like t’ see you try t’ get 'rowdy’, honey, you’re the most calm and collected person I know.”
As soon as she placed the photographic equipment to one side, her arms were pinned above her head by a strong force coming from her short-haired lover and before she knew it, she could feel his fringe tickling her forehead since he leant forwards and hovered over her.
“I can be rowdy when I wan’ to, yeh know that more than anybody, pet.” He lowered his voice down at least one octave as he spoke, a glint of mischief in his sparkling eyes.
“Mm…” She pretended to think as a borderline seductive hum sounded from her throat. “I have no idea wha’ you’re talkin’ about, H.” A shake of her head only further exaggerated her point as she tried to prove her unknowingness and innocence.
A low, breathy chuckle resounded from deep in his chest, seemingly-always-minty breath fanning over her face gently, before he pressed a loving peck to her plump lips.
It was intimate moments like these where she felt she had never been more content, nor could she probably ever be more content without him.
It was intimate moments like these where she felt almost certain that there would never be another man more catered to her soul as he was and she intended on keeping him forever.
“‘M gonna love you ‘til the day I die.” The soft whisper coming from his lips transferred onto hers and she could feel tingles rush throughout her body. “Ev’ry day I spend with you jus’ gets better and better, I don’t know wha’ you’re doin’ t’ me.”
A caressing touch was brought to his cheeks as she pulled his face up to stare into his emerald eyes. She never got tired of looking into the windows of his soul - she thought as if they held information about himself that was only revealed if someone was to gaze intently into them.
“And ev’ry day I spend with you, makes me wan’ t’ never live another day without yeh, you’re my world.” A grin started to grow on his features but she carried on before he had the chance to reply, fearing that if she didn’t tell him what she had wanted to for so long, she might never get the opportunity, nor courage, to again. “You, Harry Edward Styles, are the reason tha’ ev’ry morning when I lie in bed next t’ you, I wan’ t’ scream at how much I adore watching you yawn and stretch when yeh make that little noise to shake the tiredness off. You are the reason tha’ ev’ry night when we take a shower together, I wan’ t’ kiss yeh until our lungs give out because I don’t ever wan’ t’ stop. You are the reason tha’ ev’ry time when I see yeh performing, I wan’ t’ jus’ run up on stage with you and show ev’rybody there that you’re mine and how proud I am of you. Words will never be able to describe how much I’m smitten with you, Harry, you’re the most amazing guy ‘ve ever met and I’ll be damned ‘f I see another chick on your arm.” She had to pause momentarily as she felt a familiar touch wiping away a stray tear that had trickled down her cheek in the heat of her emotions before nervously laughing and continuing to finish her mini-speech. “I love you. I love you so fuckin’ much, I don’t think you’ll understand.”
The only response that was mustered from the tanned man was a shake of the head in disbelief at the meaningful moment that she had just shared with him, he felt a slight twinge in his stomach he couldn’t identify before placing his elbows either side of her head, careful not to rest on her sprawled out hair, and, once more, pressing his raspberry lips against hers in a passionate seal of affection.
He shifted his weight onto his forearms in order to place himself in between her bent legs without breaking their kiss and let out a quiet groan of satisfaction against her mouth. Her hands reached up to tangle in his cut curls, tugging on them lightly just as a teaser. He ended up cupping her behind as he pulled away from her soft lips to flip their bodies over to allow for him to be the one on his back and situated his woman on top of his hips, squeezing hers temporarily as an indication to keep kissing him.
And when has she ever refused him?
A small smile appeared on her face before dropping her top half down onto his chest and reconnecting their pairs of lips. Hands pressed to his firm chest as legs straddled his frame before trailing her fingers gently down to the hem of his shirt.
“Take it off, baby.” A breathless plea was heard from the man underneath her which gave her the boost of confidence she felt she needed which encouraged her to remove the first item of clothing from his toned body and she couldn’t help but run her hands up and down his beautiful torso. “Now le’ me see you.”
She raised her own top over her head herself and threw it somewhere unknown, just as she did his t-shirt, and revelled in his reaction to her reveal, noting the way he trailed his eyes up her exposed chest and bit his lip. “Look a’ you. My gorgeous girl.”
She felt the rose colour blush onto her cheeks, she thought she would’ve been better off as a traffic light, before she looked down to try and hide the obvious effect he had on her but was stopped by his forefinger lifting up her chin and guiding the other hand to the clasp of her lace bra, unclipping it expertly with a single movement, and looking at her intense eyes. “I never wan’ you t’ feel like you have to hide around me.” The straps fell down her shoulders as soon as she relaxed her arms to remove the piece of lingerie, giving her significant other a firsthand view of her bare chest, whilst he fondled her breasts generously and massaged them. “You’re beautiful and you’re mine, I wan’ yeh t’ believe it.”
Her head tilted backwards at the sensation of him having her cupped in his hands and lovingly playing with her as she felt a tweak on her left nipple and a wet tongue flick on her right. A short intake of air gasped from her throat in surprise at the sudden attention but she wasn’t complaining.
To show her gratitude, she found that her hips started to grind down on him - both their clothed crotches rubbing against one another, making them both let out a soft sound of appreciation.
“Wanna taste you…” She chirped after she had plucked up the courage to tell him while his mouth was still on her, alternating between each nipple.
“’M not stopping yeh, baby.” He spoke in reply as he detached himself from her boobs, giving them playful, but gentle, little smacks, and watched them jiggle slightly to his amusement.
By him taking it upon himself to lay back down, she took it as a sign to hop off him momentarily and hook her thumbs inside the matching lace material of her panties (she hadn’t bothered to put on bottoms - she liked wearing his shirts) before swaying her hips side-to-side. She liked to give him his own private show every once in awhile to watch him grow harder within the constraints of his jeans as he watched her.
Some could say she had a slight kink for exhibiting herself for him and she felt proud that he liked what he saw every time, enough to show off that cheeky smirk of his that she loved so much and bite his lip.
She successfully managed to drop the skimpy thong to the floor and stepped out of it, rendering her completely naked, whilst she crawled back onto the bed and in between his spread legs.
Her hand flew straight the the button of his skin-tight, charcoal jeans and pulling down the zip slowly, flicking her eyes up to see his face that construed his impatience. A light titter came from her lips as she begun to pull the waistband of the item of clothing down his legs and off his body teasingly, planting pecks down his thighs and legs in the process but intentionally avoiding where he needed her most. “God, sweetheart, please.” He started to beg, he couldn’t wait anymore. He felt painfully hard already and she wasn’t doing anything to relieve it - just make it worse.
“Oh, ‘m sorry, honey, I didn’t realise you wanted me so bad.” She feigned innocence with a pout of her bottom lip before she grinned mischievously and palmed him through his boxers.
The sudden attention to his most sensitive area made him rut his hips forward onto her hand with a half-arsed apology mumbled from him before a low groan erupted, interrupted by her reaching up and connecting her lips to his in a kiss as she continued to work him through the thin material.
As she felt a wet patch forming due to the pre-cum leaking from his tip, she concluded that there had been enough teasing so she pulled herself away from his luscious lips as his boxers followed suit with his jeans and were tossed aimlessly somewhere in the room.
Standing to attention, the red, aching head of his dick looked too enticing for her to ignore as she started to give him kisses and kitten licks. A small growl of approval from him gave her the confirmation she needed to then flatten her tongue against the underside of him and lick a stripe along him until she reached the tip, swirling her tongue around it like a lollipop.
A shiver was sent through his body as he looked down at his lover and gripped her hair in his fist. He watched her lips wrap around his, he must admit, larger-than-average size and take as much as she could fit in her mouth before she began to suck.
A strangled cry came from him as she unexpectedly opened up her throat and attempted to take all of him. As soon as her nose touched his trimmed hairs, he let out a yelp of pleasure since he felt himself at the back of her throat before she gagged, making the muscles clench around him which made it feel even more pleasurable.
“Shit, you take my cock so good.” That sentence alone was enough to make her feel on top of the world as she pulled off to catch her breath for a second, a string of spit still connecting her to him as he reached down to swipe it up with his fingers and proceeded to press them to her mouth, making her open up and taste him.
“You taste amazing.” She praised him back, knowing that it’ll give him the confidence boost he needed to really fuck her into the mattress soon.
After her regular breathing was regained, she, once again, dived back onto his pulsing manhood and begun to hollow out her cheeks around him whilst working her tongue around his girth but making sure no teeth were present as she bobbed.
Constant affirmations of pleasure tumbling from his bitten lips only made her move faster before she raised one hand to what she couldn’t fit in and expertly moved it in sync with her mouth.
“Fuck, if yeh keep goin’ like tha’, baby, ‘m gonna cum.” The warning was enough to convince her to pull off of him with a ‘pop’ and sit back onto her knees, looking down at him with a virtuous look on her face but with spit dripping down her chin. “You look sinful, yeh fuckin’ tease.”
She had to bite her lip to hide a subtle smirk and she kissed up his torso before sitting back on his hips, making sure to be just in front of his length so he could rest on her arse as she bent down to give him a passionate, open-mouthed kiss.
His large hands roamed her back as he reciprocated the kiss by pushing his tongue in, meeting hers. An enticing hum was let out as she circled her hips gently, rubbing up against his already throbbing cock. He pulled away only to duck down and start to press his mouth against her neck, beginning to suck bruises into her skin to mark her as his to everyone that looked.
Her tease only further continued as she heard him groan in desperation when she rubbed against a particularly sensitive spot before he decided he couldn’t take it anymore and threw her down onto the bouncy bed as he held himself up with his hands, adjusting to be perfectly slotted in between her legs that locked together around his torso as she ran her fingers through his hair that fell down.
“Harry?…” She spoke up in a soft voice and he could feel her breath on his face by how close they were.
“Mhm?” He reached down to position himself against her clit and began to jut his hips forward and back eliciting a high-pitched squeal.
“F-Fuck me.” She had the wind knocked out of her as soon as he entered her before she could finish her request.
Both parties let out loud moans as they both felt each other in the most intimate way possible. He let her adjust to his size impatiently since it took all of him to not move inside of her. The warm, wet walls of her womanhood drove him crazy and he swore he nearly came undone already when she clenched around him.
“You ready, honey?” He asked shakily, he just wanted to feel every inch of her.
A timid nod came from her a few seconds later signalling her consent and he wasted no time in dragging himself out until just the tip was engulfed before plunging back into her tight hole, encouraging another in-sync moan.
Gradually, he picked up a regular rhythm and fastened his speed as soon as she muttered the words, “faster” and “harder”. The sound of skin slapping on skin filled the air mixed in with their combined moans and groans.
“Yeh feel so good, so deep.” She plucked up the confidence to try her hand at some dirty talk he had never heard from her before but he had to admit, he felt himself twitch at her words.
“God, you’re killin’ me.” He shivered as he picked up his pace.
“Yeah?…” She smirked as she leant up to press her wet lips against his, moaning against them. “Fuck, Harry, don’t stop.”
Every word she said stroked his ego even more and it turned him on to no extent to get praise that he was doing everything she wanted. With a few more hard thrusts, he felt the familiar twist in his stomach.
“You gonna cum for me? You gonna cum for Daddy?” The nickname just slipped from his parted lips as he breathed heavily but it didn’t go unnoticed by her, making her let out an exaggerated moan to let him know.
“Mm, Daddy’s so good t’ me.” She paused to peck his lips once more before arching her back as he brushed against that special spot. “‘M gonna cum. Want yeh t’ cum inside me.” She whispered.
Never had she been so relieved she had decided to take up the pill since she never wanted to stop feeling this level of ecstasy.
Hearing those words whispered so filthily from her cherry red mouth tipped him over the edge as he released hard, surrounded by her squeezing walls, which in turn, caused her to become sensitive and orgasm with him still deep inside of her as they both yelled each other’s names in pleasure.
The only noises that could be heard was their heavy breathing and the parting of lips as they gave each other loving pecks, trying to come down from their highs as he carefully pulled out.
“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened t’ me, you know?” She rolled onto her side to face the man that collapsed by her side and cuddled up to him, tracing the watch she had given him as a second Valentine’s Day present. In fact, she had the watch that matched. It came as a couple’s collection, what could she say?
“I know, baby girl. ‘N’ I love you very much.” He replied tiredly as he followed her movements on the timepiece.
“I love you too.”
Though, how was she to know that he told her empty promises and gave her false assumptions?
The watch she had given him? He had unexpectedly dropped the bomb on her that he had supposedly ‘lost’ it one day nonchalantly, as if he didn’t really care, after coming back from one of his never ending nights out.
She still had hers.
She never took it off since she bought them both unless she showered and went to bed.
She always put it back on in the mornings even if she didn’t have plans. She just loved having the strap to remind her of their love when he wasn’t around.
However, whenever they fought, it always seemed to her that he forgot to speak with an underlying tone of adoration like she did since she could never really stay angry at him. Always pinpointing the cons of the situation they were arguing about and making her feel guilty that she even brought it up.
But ever since she packed up and walked away from his hold on her, she figured that the only thing she was genuinely guilty of, was loving him too much. Giving him too much.
She gave him everything she had to offer and during the first few years, she thought it was enough for him to believe she was the woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with.
It was only when she started to feel her grip on him slipping away from her that she knew she was his second choice. Something that she never wanted to be.
If somebody asks how we died, Please look them straight in the eye. Call it, “suicide”. Don’t fabricate, just tell 'em, babe. It was suicide. Don’t sugarcoat it, just let them know.
The two men stood conversing with each other as they discussed the art that was on display for the event they were invited to. They had been colleagues before; however, they had lost contact after one of them took up a new job opportunity, meeting again after a good year or so and decided to catch up.
The art gallery consisted of the most recent masterpieces from unknown artists around the globe. It was an event organised to give exposure to struggling individuals chasing their dreams and it was people like Harry and his status who were invited to review the artworks and buy them if they were impressed. All the money earnt from these purchases go back to the original artists, which in turn, correlated to more of said artists’ pieces being on display in the future.
The prices they were going for weren’t exactly the cheapest either.
“‘Ey, didn’t your girl wan’ t’ be an artist?” Obviously, the break-up hadn’t reached the likes of Harry’s newfound pal yet and it instantly wiped the smile off of his face.
“Yeah.” A remorseful chuckle was puffed out, “Yeah, she did…”
“Actually, where is she? Yeh should’ve brought her along, yeh idiot, she would’ve loved this! Las’ time I saw yeh both, you couldn’t leave each other alone.” The uninformed man stood next to him gave him a playful nudge and a wink of the eye without noticing the sudden deflation of his friend.
“She, uh… She’s not my girl anymore.” He finally confessed after swirling his drink in his cup as he was pondering whether or not to actually tell the man beside him.
“Oh, shit, H, I didn’t mean t’-…” He began to apologise for being so insensitive but was interrupted by a shake of a curly head.
“‘S all good, don’t worry ‘bout it.” His eyes cast downwards, losing the twinkle in his eyes as he tried to smile genuinely.
“If yeh don’t mind me asking, mate, wha’ happened? You seemed so happy.” A hand was placed on his shoulder roughly as a form of comfort as he sighed heavily.
“It just… Didn’t work out.” A dismissive sip of his beverage came afterwards as the guilt of brushing his four-year relationship off like it was nothing came creeping up on his conscience.
“D’yeh really expect me t’ believe that, Harry?” The questioning tone of the man that clearly didn’t believe his reason for the end of his relationship only made Harry feel even worse about his disregard and internally convinced him to elaborate.
“It was my fault.” He rubbed his hand over his face, he didn’t realise actually talking about it would affect him this much - especially in public. “I, um… God. I cheated on her.”
The recoil of the friendly hand on his shoulder signified the disappointment his friend felt towards him but kept his mouth shut, willing him to continue to explain.
“She was everything I thought I wanted, that I needed. I had no doubt that she was the woman I could spend the rest of my life with.” Harry painfully started to release his pent up feelings ever since she walked away from him the week before. “I still think she is, you know?…”
He trailed his sentence off like he was ashamed to admit his feelings. He felt as if he didn’t even deserve to mention her name, let alone keep thinking about their future together. He pulled himself together, though, he owed her character enough to explain the situation fully and not give people even the faintest idea that it was her that caused the death of their relationship.
“I ruined four years of the happiest times of my life, Nick, for nothing… It was ‘bout five or so months. It lasted for five months. It jus’ happened, I never wanted to jeopardise wha’ her and I had bu’ it was when she was away for one of her work trips.” He felt the water building up behind his eyes, ready to start falling at anytime but he had to get it out. He didn’t care if he was in public or not, it had been eating him alive not being able to talk about it with anyone. “I went t’ the bar her and I always went when we were free. We used t’ talk for hours about jus’ anything. Each other. Our days. Our families. Our future… How much we loved each other…”
He had to quieten his voice at the end otherwise he knew he would’ve burst out into ugly tears. Not like he hadn’t been doing exactly that ever since the front door closed of their shared home. Well. His home. He didn’t even think it was a ‘home’ anymore. She was the one who made it feel like a home to him and when she left, it was just a building in which he slept in every night. With all of her belongings gone after she had come to pick up the rest, catching him in his time of vulnerability when he opened the door where he hoped she would’ve been back in his arms within the hour, it was just a house. There was no warmth left within its walls; only faded memories he tried so hard to block out as he spent his nights with a skimpily-clad woman he didn’t even know the middle name of.
“I met her at that same bar and we jus’ got t’ talking. I told her how lonely I felt with the love of my life away for weeks over a few drinks I bought us. By the time she was running her hand up ‘n’ down my leg, I wasn’t in my senses and jus’ allowed her to. The first time she kissed me the same night, I couldn’t stop her even if I tried - I was so far gone. And I… I enjoyed it. It’d been so long since I actually held someone close, video calls and textin’ can only do so much, y’know? ‘Fore I knew it, I woke up the next morning in someone else’s bed and her naked body beside mine in the exact same state. All of it jus’ spiralled out of my control from there, she never stopped callin’ me for another hook up and I couldn’t bring myself to say ‘no’… I should’ve, I know I should’ve, I had a perfect life with the perfect girl but I guess, for a moment, I wanted something else. Somethin’ new.” He didn’t even attempt to hide his shame as he looked up towards the ceiling to keep the rivers that flowed in his eyes at bay.
“She didn’t even try t’ leave as soon as she found out. She told me she knew at the third month about wha’ I was doin’ and said she stayed t’ try and change my mind.” He brought a closed fist up to his mouth, refusing to break down in such a public place, and already receiving a few judgemental stares from passersby as he struggled to contain his emotions. “God, she tried t’ change my mind…” He weakly let out a breath. “She did ev’rything for me. Her attitude towards me never changed at all, she still loved me with ev’rything she had. The best girl I could’ve ever asked for was all mine and I didn’t even give her a second glance most nights when I climbed into bed with her after I came on another girl’s tits.” His sudden outburst of anger directed at himself brought unwanted attention from the few that surrounded him, earning some disapproving stares and shushes.
“Why don’t yeh call her, H? You’re in bits.” A piece of advice was given to him from Nick who stood silently throughout his whole rant. The reply to it, however, was a mocking laugh as Harry threw his head back.
“Would you forgive me if you were her?” He stared blankly at the artwork in front of him, they must’ve been stood there for 10 minutes at the least.
Once again, silence was the dumbfounded man’s only response to his rhetorical question, and that was all Harry needed to nod to himself as if he finally understood. That he finally let it sink in that his relationship was indefinitely over and there was nothing he could’ve done to make it better.
There was only so many tears he could hold in at that moment before he couldn’t physically keep his wall up and all the emotions came rushing through the floodgates of his distress and trauma.
He had managed to keep himself together for all of the times he had to inform acquaintances of his new relationship status by simply brushing it off and saying exactly what he had told Nick at the beginning. But it had become too much for the secretly heartbroken man finally, and there he was. Sobbing disgustingly into his hand as he tried to cover his cries up to leave at least some of his dignity remaining intact.
He had come to the conclusion that it was never what she had done. It was never what she had said. And it was never what he thought he felt; like he just fell out of love with her. But it was everything to do with the way she still loved him unconditionally after acknowledging his unfaithfulness to her and it made his heart hurt.
By realising this too late, he had to live with himself knowing that he pushed her too far off the edge and that he actually did love her after all.
He still loved her.
But instead of falling asleep to the sight of her radiant face - peaceful as she cuddled into his body, he had to tell everyone that he, himself, killed the best relationship he had ever been in.
→ grumpy husband yoongi au aka lots of fluff (mentions of sex) → 1.7k words
A/N: I recently had a realization that the way my blog is structured doesn’t really give me a great leeway to express my creativity and feels for the members at random. So this is the start to a really short series of drabbles for all of the members in super short (less than 2k) drabbles! To be continued! :) Hope you guys like it.
Yoongi gives the elderly man a small smile and nods in agreement, clinking his beer can against his and tipping back the cold liquor into his throats with his eyes trained on you, a feat that happens quite often.
Often Yoongi finds himself just staring at you, in awe of how someone like you ended up with someone like him.
Your friends would describe you as sweet, bubbly, kind, selfless, and bright. His friends would describe you as “the light that shined in Min Yoongi’s horribly dreadful bitch ass life.” And although he always gives them a glare or just brushes their comments off with an eye roll it’s moments like these when he feels like the six dickwads’ words can never be any more accurate.
Request: Can you write one where Buckys gf has a 5 yr old daughter
who’s very attached to him? She tells her class that her daddy’s an avenger and
some of them tease her saying she’s lying. She’s in tears at the end of the day
and tells her mom what happened. She tells Bucky so he picks her up the next
day and she runs to his arms calling him daddy and he’s so happy to be a dad to
this little girl The other kids are awestruck seeing him
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader
Warnings: Fluff, Dad!Bucky
Word Count: 1347
A/N: dad bucky fucks me up. let me know what you think. requests are open and let me know if you want to be on my taglist.
“Ava! C’mon, we can’t be late. School starts in half an
hour! Say bye to Bucky and meet me at the car.” You shouted at your
five-year-old. She loved Bucky Barnes, your boyfriend. She even started to call
Today was her first day of kindergarten. She was super
excited. She wanted to make friends and she wanted to meet her nice teachers. You
watched from the car as Bucky walked her to the front porch. He bent down to
her pint-sized height, and gave her a big hug. He couldn’t take her to school
because Steve needed him for training in the morning.
Ava made her way carefully down the stairs to your little
car. She was big enough to get herself into the car seat. You missed the days
where you had to help her. She was just getting so big and you knew today was
going to be emotional for you. You wished Bucky could’ve been there with you.
There wasn’t going to be anyone to pry you away from the school when Ava gets
dropped off. Today was going to be hard for you.
Summary: Newt has been distant the past week, focusing only on Tina and their work. You try to strike up conversation with him at dinner, but, after many failed attempts, grow irritated and leave early. Queenie decides to take matters into her own hands.
Word Count: 2,224
Pairing: Newt x Reader
Requested by Anonymous
Requests are currently open! Feel free to send one in
You sit at the dinner table with no goal but to enjoy the meal as Queenie flutters around, stirring pots with both her hands and magic. She already denied your offer to help, so you decided to pass the time talking with her. Newt had disappeared somewhere, probably inside the case, and you had immediately decided against a walk when you glanced at the growing grey clouds outside.
Inside is warm and cozy. You’re wearing your favorite gold sweater. The heat from the cooking keeps out the bite of chilly air rattling the windows. Queenie is humming a jazzy tune you’ve never heard before, only stopping to giggle at Jacob’s red face when he bumps into her.
“I’m sorry.” He says as his face turns a shade of tomato red.
“It ain’t a problem, honey.” Queenie doesn’t break a stride. “What is it you’re making?”
You’re pretty sure she asks it for your sake, given the sounds your stomach has been making since he stuck the pastries he’d spent all afternoon making into the oven, and the smell had spread throughout the small room.
“Special strawberry turnovers.”
“What makes them so special?” You ask, raising your voice over the bubbling, clanking, and simmering sounds filling the area.
“They’re my momma’s recipe. Filled with love and one other special ingredient.”
Queenie swings by Jacob with the pot of stew in hand. “I don’t think nutmeg is very secret, honey.” Five bowls float down into their places around the table as Queenie sets the stew in the center.
“I never said –“
“You don’t have to.” She smiles at him and lifts the pot’s lid.
The rich smell wafts over the table to you. You breathe it in, closing your eyes to revel in the memories it brings back. Your mother always made beef stew with potatoes and chopped carrots for special occasions. Mentally thanking Queenie, you slide your chair back and step toward the pot, scooping the stew in until it nearly sloshes out the side. Queenie merely smiles at you and twirls around Jacob.
She resumes her humming. The turnovers mix with the scent of the stew and your mouth waters. The windows shake, generating a beat that Queenie forms her music around. Jacob’s laugh fills the warm room, and your entire world, for once, is at peace.
Your content joy only expands when Newt walks in, messy auburn hair plastered against his forehead from the rain sprinkling outside, giant, beautiful smile stretched across his face. You glance at your stew, fighting the huge smile trying to break upon your face. Queenie kicks you under the table and, when you meet her gaze, lifts an eyebrow. You give a quick nod before staring back down at your food, trying to resist beaming.
The fight becomes much easier when Tina walks in behind Newt, also covered in water, smile upon her face.
Lance was woken by the sound of the castle alarms blaring. He quickly rolled out of his bed and put on his armor. He took a quick look in the mirror to see how he looked. He is eyes were still puffy and red from all the crying, but if any of the others asked, he could simply blame it on the sleep. Running his fingers through his hair to make it look presentable, he took a final glance at his reflection and ran to along to the pounding sound of the alarms. Lance reached the room just as Hunk was. Hunk sent him a small smile, in which he returned. His smile quickly fell however when he turned to look at Keith, who was clearly trying to ignore him, not even looking in his direction. Lance swallowed around the lump in his throat. *No. No more crying.* Allura clapped her hands together, getting the attention of the team. “Okay, Paladins! We’ll be arriving on the planet in just a few ticks, so just a quick reminder that this alliance is very crucial to Voltron and stopping Zarkon. Everyone must be on their best behavior! We have to make sure that we secure this alliance, no matter what!” *Oh yeah…* Lance thought. *I completely forgot about the alliance..* “Princess, we are now landing!” “Thank you, Coran. Alright Paladins! Let’s greet our, hopefully, new alliances!” As Lance stepped onto the foreign planet, he looked around in awe. It was beautiful here. There were enormous, strange looking buildings that looked like skyscrapers. The planet reminded him of New York, only there was a peaceful, calm aura surrounding the place. It was clear to see that this alien race was very civilized and advanced with technology, which also meant weaponry. They would definitely be a powerful ally for Voltron and the fight against Zarkon. Allura led them to a large building that resembled a mansion, but it appeared to be made out of an iridescent, chrome material. Coran stepped forward. “It’s made out of a material that’s virtually indestructible. And you may have noticed that you can’t see into the building, but once you are in the inside, you can see the outside. I believe you have something similar on Earth. Two-way mirror is it?” Pidge nodded with her mouth hung open while the other paladins looked around in awe. “It’s beautiful.” Shiro murmured. Lance nodded in agreement. He could feel the excitement bubble up inside him as they drew nearer to the entrance. When they entered the building, Lance was not disappointed. It appeared as though there was some sort of celebration going on. Hundreds of chandeliers made out of glowing blue crystals hung from the ceiling, creating a soft blue hue to light up the room, giving a calming effect. Rows and rows of tables were lined up, displaying an endless buffet of food Lance had never seen before. The aliens there were all dressed in various ball gowns, some of which seemed to sparkle like it was made entirely out of crystals and jewels. And there was music softly playing in the background. Everything was breathtakingly beautiful. One of the older looking aliens recognized them and walked over to Allura. “Ah, hello Princess Allura. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.” Allura bowed deeply. “The pleasures all mine, Queen Lilith. I would like the introduce my Paladins, the team of Voltron.” The Queen’s eyes shined as she gazed at them. “Yes, yes! I would like to thank you for everything you have done so far. The task you have been assigned is very challenging and dangerous. It is quite impressive the things you have accomplished.” The Queen turned to Allura. “Now, I do believe we have business matters to discuss. Paladins, please enjoy yourselves. This party was thrown for you after all.” The team sheepishly gave their thanks. Lance turned to the party, eyes alight. *Finally, time to relax and have some fun!*
Everything was going amazingly. Lance’s belly was stuffed with delicious food, everyone he talked to was incredibly respectful and kind. He was…happy. He smiled genuinely for the first time in what a felt like a very long time. Everything was going perfect. That was until he talked to Hunk. Lance noticed Hunk talking to a trio of female aliens who were all wearing elegant gowns. They were all giggling as Hunk was flushed red and rubbing the back of his neck. Lance knew that look. Hunk was uncomfortable. What kind of friend would he be if he didn’t come in the save the day for his best bud, his right hand man? So, Lance made his way to them. “So, what are you lovely ladies doing this fine evening?” One of them turned and giggled. “Oh, we were just asking Hunk here about his adventures as a Paladin.” The alien let her hand trail down Hunk’s arm. “He’s very strong and brave. And quite cute if I’m being completely honest.” The others around them giggled in agreement. Lance chuckled and shook his head. “Sorry to be the bearer of bad news ladies, but Hunk right here.” He threw an arm around Hunk’s shoulders. “He’s already a taken man.” Lance felt Hunk stiffen underneath his arm. “Lance, what are you-” “And who is the lucky lady to have such a handsome defender of the universe?” One of the girls pouted. “Well beautiful, that would be one rock hard gal by the name of Shay. You see, from the first time Hunk looked at her, he was smitten. You should of heard him-” “Lance, can I talk to you for a second?” Hunk interrupted. Before Lance could reply, Hunk dragged him away from the group, and to a secluded corner. “Hey, what’s up buddy?” Lance grinned. “Don’t ‘buddy’ me.” His smile fell. “What was that all about?!” “Wha-what?” “Who gave you the right to just start running your mouth about my feelings or relationships?” Lance slowly took a step back. “I-I’m sorry, Hunk. You just looked uncomfortable and I thought-” “No. That’s just it. You didn’t think at all.” Hunk gave him a hard look. “Did you ever think how that made me feel? Lance, that was embarrassing! Shay and I aren’t even dating, and the only reason I told you that I liked her is because you’re supposed to be my best friend!” “Hunk, I am your best friend!” “A best friend wouldn’t just spill out the inner most secrets to compete strangers! I thought I could trust you. I guess I was wrong.” Lance could feel the familiar heat behind his eyes. “H-Hunk..” “Just leave me alone, Lance. And just try to think of others feelings before you think of yourself. And stop trying to 'help’ me. You’ve done enough 'helping’ already.” With that, Hunk turned and left. Lance stood frozen, unmoving. Feeling the heat increase and the water beginning to form in his eyes, he quickly left. He had to get out of there. He couldn’t cry in front of these people, he would just ruin the alliance. *Just like I ruin everything else. But where could I go?* Then, someone was calling to him in his mind. *Blue.* Lance ran back to the castle, avoiding his teammates. He couldn’t let them see him like this. When he got to Blue’s hangar, he could already feel himself starting to crumble. The dam behind his eyes cracked and the tears began to flow. He ran to Blue as she lowered her head and open her mouth for him to enter. Lance threw himself into the pilot chair, drawing his knees to his chest and allowing the tears to flow freely. “Blue, why do I have to mess up everything? I try to help, but I just end up making a bigger mess of things. I knew I didn’t belong here. I was never meant to be a paladin of Voltron. I’m just a weak, pathetic, excuse of a pilot. Keith was right. I’ll never be a true pilot of Voltron. All I am is a cargo pilot.” Lance muttered bitterly. Blue tried to send him comforting thoughts, reassuring him that he did belong and that she CHOSE him to be here paladin, but Lance ignored her, letting the grief and shame consume him.
Lance was still in the castle with Blue when he heard a thunderous crash outside, followed by several screams of panic. He ran to the nearest window to see what caused the commotion. When Lance glanced toward the sky, he gaped at what he saw. A large Galra ship was hovering in the air, and it suddenly projected a hologram of a scarred, angry Galra. “Paladins of Voltron, I am here in behalf of Zarkon. We know you’re here! If you do not reveal yourselves, this planet will perish.” Lance watched as Hunk, Pidge, Keith, and Shiro ran outside the building, facing the hologram. “Ah, there you are.” “What do you want from us!?” Shiro shouted. “Hmmm..I actually have a deal to offer.” *A deal..what could he possibly have to offer that would interest us?* Lance pondered. “Do not think we haven’t noticed that you have stolen information from our database, but what caught my attention was what you specifically searched. It appears that you are looking for your fellow species, one that shares DNA to the Green paladin.” Lance gasped as he saw Pidge pale. “Where are they?! What do you know?! TELL ME!!!” Pidge screamed. “Haha, be patient gremlin. We do have the information about these humans you are looking for, possibly even their coordinates. But in exchange for your the information, you have to prove your strength to me and pry the information from myself. Let me see the strength a member of Voltron has.” The others sneered and shouted at the Galra while Lance set his jaw. He knew what he had to do.
“I’m going.” “No Shiro, if you go, who’ll lead Voltron? There’s a very high chance that whoever goes will not come back alive.” “It’s either I’m going, or no one is going, and that’s final.” The team was still arguing when they were caught off guard by thunderous laughter. “Ahahaha!! It appears we have a challenger!” The team whip around, just in time to see the Blue lion headed straight toward the ship. The Glara ship begins to take off, the Blue lion right on its tail. “LANCE!!” The team ran after them, but they were slowly losing ground. Shiro quickly turned on his communications in his helmet, allowing the others to hear. “Lance! Lance! Do you copy?!” “I hear you loud and clear, Cap!” “Lance, what the quiznak do you think you’re doing?! Get back here right now! That’s an order!!” “Sorry Shiro, but I can’t do that. I’m getting that info.” “Lance, you can’t do this; it’s a suicide mission!!” Shiro screamed desperately. “That’s okay Shiro. I’ll do whatever I can to help my team, especially if it’s concerning their family. I may never get to mine again, so if there is a chance that I can help any of you get back with your family, I’ll always step up to the plate. It’s time that I tried to do something right, instead of being a disappointment to the team and ruining everything. Besides.” Lance chuckles weakly and let’s a few more tears escape, dripping off his chin onto the control panel. “I’m replaceable.”
Sam and Dean sit in baby staring at their once 25 year old sister who was now 4 years old in a ballerina outfit because that’s what she picked out at the store when they needed to buy her clothes. The previous hunt they were on Y/N got hit by some weird powder by a witch and Dean woke up the following morning to a tiny hand on his face.
“Why do you guys keeping wooking at me weird?” She ask looking between them. “You’re just so tiny.” Sam smiles. “She’s so cute!” Sam adds looking at Dean. “Yeah, I remember.” He mumbles as they get out the car to go food shopping for the bunker.
“Come on Y/N.” Sam chimes as he opens the back door for her. He holds her hand as they cross the street to the store. She lets go and runs to the shopping carts to grab one. They stand there watching her struggle to get one cart out because they were stuck together. (Don’t you just hate that) “I got it.” Sam chuckles getting it. As they walk in store Y/N skips ahead next to Dean to hold his hand but he keeps moving his hand so she can’t grab it.
“I don’t wanna hold your hand, thanks. I don’t wanna hold your hand.” He argues. She frowns and grabs a hold of his hand and grips it tight. “Ow, ow, let go of my hand.” He growls. “That hurts.” He glares down at her. She whimpers and peeks over to Sam who looks down at her. “What’s wrong bug?”
“Dean won’t hold my hand.” Y/N pouts. Sam gives Dean his signature bitch face and Dean grunts and grabs her hand. “She always did this before.” He mumbles but Sam just chuckles shaking his head. “Why did you choose a costume?” Dean ask looking at her ballerina outfit. “It’s not a costume it’s my protective gear.”
“How’s a ballerina costume suppose to protect you?”
“Are you crazy who wants to hurt a ballewina?” She protest. “Other ballerinas.” Dean shrugs. Once Dean had enough he throws Y/N in the seat of the cart and she rambles to Sam who too eventually has enough of her talk of Princes and fairies and he gives her his iPod. She bops her head and swings her hanging legs accidentally kicking Sam once in awhile listening to music as they get to the register. “Can I has some lime jerky?” She ask pointing down below to the candy and jerky. Sam is about to protest remembering her eating habit but Dean holds his hand up to stop him. “Your remember how she was when she didn’t get things. She whined and whined.” Sam grabs the jerky and puts it down with the of stuff and Y/N smiles. The ride to the bunker is an half hour away and Y/N becomes very impatient.
“Are we there yet?” She grunts tugging on her seatbelt. “We get there when we get there Y/N.” Dean answers annoyed. “Why do you have to be such a meany?” She yells. Sam stops Dean before he can even talk back. “Hey princess let’s play a game.” Sam says turning around in his seat. “Okay!”
“Let’s play the license plate game.”
“Yay okay!” Y/N props herself on the seat and looks out the window. There isn’t much cars on the road and she eventually falls asleep from boredom. When they arrive Sam carries Y/N down the stairs seeing Cas sitting in the war room. “Who’s the child?” He questions noticing a sleeping Y/N in Sam’s arms.
“Cas it’s Y/N.” He chuckles. “Y/N isn’t two feet tall.”
“She got hit by some mumbo jumbo powder and now she’s four years old so we need to find a way to reverse it.” Dean explains as they walk to the kitchen. “Cas would you mind taking her to her room?” Sam ask. Cas hesitates at first and nods. Sam passes her gently so she doesn’t wake up. She stirs in Cas’s arms for a moment and becomes still again. He takes her to her room settling her down on the bed. He admires her small body seeing fully that it clearly was Y/N. He remembers Y/N showing him some pictures of her and boys when they were younger.
An hour goes passed and the boys sit in the library reading some books. “Do children usually nap for this long?” Cas questions. “You have a point totally forgot. She’s too quiet now that I realize.” Sam intervenes. “Oh no.” Dean mumbles getting up. “What? What is it?” Cas questions following them to the kitchen.
“Whenever Y/N was quiet it meant that she’s was either hiding something or she’s going through the pantry for cand—”
Sure enough when they reach the kitchen they see a stash of candy wrappers opened along with other snacks, but that wasn’t the problem. This was Dean’s secret stash. “Son of bitch.” He stomps his boot. “If she throws up, I’m blaming you!” Dean scolds at Sam with a pointed finger. They go into the hallways to look for her. “Y/N!” Dean screams. He goes to her room not seeing her there and is about to leave till he hears shuffling from the closet. He slowly walks up to the closet grabbing the door knobs and swings them open spotting the little ballerina with a chocolate stained mouth.
“THERE YOU ARE!” She screams crawling through Deans legs and makes a run for it in the hallway.
“Sammy get her!” He screams. Sam sees a small body dart across the hallway. He runs after her but loses her once he turns the corner. Five minutes go by and Dean doesn’t find her. “I’m tried of playing games Y/N come out now or it’s time out for you!” After three minutes of searching he meets in the war room with Sam. “She’s in so much trouble!” Dean grunts. “Dean, why are you so mad at her?”
“She ate my stuff!”
“No, not that. I mean ever since she turned you’ve been a meany like she said what’s up with that?” Dean doesn’t answer and looks away. Sam stands there waiting for the answer. Dean mumbles something inaudible he can’t hear. “What?”
“I said she likes you better then me.” He confesses. “Dean, what are you talking about?” He sighs before he answers.
“Every since Y/N was little she always liked you best. She was stuck to you like glue.” Sam stands there in shock. “Dean, she loves you a lot you know?” He raises an eyebrow hearing this. “Anytime you and dad were gone Y/N never shut about you. Asking me all these questions about cars and bugging me when you were gonna be back and how excited she was to learn how to gank monsters from her big brother. Besides you too spend a bunch of time together now. Why is this affecting you?”
“Is that true?”
“Yes, I was kinda jealous because I thought she liked you more. And to be honest I’m a little jealous. You guys have a closer bond than I have with her now.” Sam admits. Suddenly Cas emerges into the war room carrying a crying Y/N. “What happened?” Sam ask. “Well when I was chasing her down she fell and hurt her knee.” He lifts her leg up showing the ripped pink unitard with a cut that is now bleeding just a little and the torn tutu. He goes to hand her to Sam’s out stretched arms but she whimpers rejecting him.
“I want Dean.” She whimpers crying. Dean lifts his head up hearing this and gets a good look at his baby sister. Her arms reached out for him leaning away from Cas. Her eyes puffy and red from crying. Dean realizes that he’s been so stupid that he didn’t need to be jealous, because him and Y/N get along perfect now when she’s not a toddler. She whimpers putting her arms down thinking her big brother yet again is rejecting her today until he reaches out for her and she quickly wraps her arms around his neck. “You okay?” He ask softly wiping her tear stained face. “No.” Y/N croaks shaking her head and he takes her to his room. He sets her down on his bed and helps her in one of his t-shirts after cleaning her face.
“I’m sorry I ate your candy.” She apologies in her small voice. “No, I’m sorry for being a meany today, I was just jealous.”
“Why?” She ask with a tilt of her head.
“It’s a long story. But let’s get a bandaid on this shall we?” He gets the first aid kit and cleans her scratch up. “Tank you.” She says once he’s finished. “Dean.” She calls out to him when he puts the stuff away. “Yeah?”
“Can we watch some cowboy movies?” He smiles at this and nods his head. “Sure thing sweetheart.” He sets the movie in his room while Cas helps her pop the popcorn. Half way through the movie Y/N starts falling asleep. He looks down under his arm seeing Y/N falling asleep with a piece of popcorn hanging of her bottom lip. “Getting sleepy there?” He lays down with her pulling the blanket up. “Frectles.” She mumbles. “What?” She puts one tiny finger in his face and says it again. “Frectles.” He frowns then gasp realizing what she meant. “You mean freckles.” He chuckles. “Yeah you has those.”
(A Smutty Harry Styles Blurb)
The city is dead silent.
There’s not one single sound to be heard. No moves to be seen. Not one single lighted up window in the rows of twenty. Everyone is passed out and fast asleep.
His muscles are burning hot under his skin, his chest rising up and down rapidly. The king-sized bed keeps shifting and creaking as Harry rolls around, trying to find a good position and a cool spot he could sleep on, but all the good ones are already used. His tummy is under this unbelievable tension, which makes it hard for his mind to stay quiet.
Harry clears his throat, which makes it feel like he just drank a cup of sand. He stretches his arm out on the bedside table, to find a used wine glass and an empty bottle. The only liquid in his glass is the dried up red stains of his wine from earlier, when he was trying to drink his tears and sorrow away. But for nothing. Alcohol might erase the memories for a moment, but they always come back like a stray dog for food.
Groaning, he settles himself back on the bed and looks down on himself and sighs at the sight of his hard cock hitting his lower stomach. He traces the tip of his finger on his prominent vein, which makes his cock twitch and a cry leave mouth. Biting his lips, he wraps his hand around himself at the base and slowly, yet firmly starts to stroke himself. He closes his eyes and purses his lips together, feeling the warmth in his tummy getting hotter and hotter on every stroke.
Starting to speed up his hand, soft whimpers leave his lips, curses dying in his throat. Harry’s back arches slightly as his feet drag against the bed sheets and getting tangled with his covers, his hand quickly working his shaft as the other one gently cups his balls. As he starts to add pressure, he chokes on his moans, biting his bottom lips so hard with his nostrils flared out.
His head is tipped back, neck strained and veins popped up, begging to be nibbled and kissed so badly. A hiss leaves his lips when his thumb skims over his sensitive raspberry tip, pre-cum already forming on his slit and his eyes clamp shut. His back starts to arch again as he gets closer and closer to his high. Mumbling quietly:
“Oh fuck, ungh. Such a good girl fo’ me. Huh, Is tha’ wha’ yeh like?”
Harry’s thinking about the way you hugged his cock, so warm and snug, when you slid down on him. That choked up moan you did when he first pushed in. The way clenched around him so tight when you came. Your cries and your nails scratching down his back, making sure to leave him marks for the next day, so you could take care of him. And when he’s about to cum, hanging right on the edge and biting his lips until they’re bleeding red and his fist shakily holding his leaking cock, he stops, because that’s something you did to tease him, that devilish smirk on your face as Harry’s hands were gripping to your hips, his own hastily trying to fuck up into you.
He’s panting, his hair in a sweaty mess on top of his head. He continues to jerk himself off, and goes completely silent. That’s when the knot in his lower stomach unwinds. Hot and heavy cum all over his ferns and dripping down his shaft to his balls. Cock twitching in his hand as he’s desperately trying to get every last drop of cum out of his tip.
He exhales loudly and drops his head back to the mattress, letting his cock fall limp on his thigh and then digging his palms into his puffy and red eyes. He still feels dizzy from his orgasm, feeling so sensitive and as light weighted as a feather.
If only you were there to lick and clean him up, telling him how good he did, for you. And wipe away that salty tear away from his cheek, that is slowly making it’s way down to Harry’s jaw, holding up so many memories.
Title: Long Lasting Lies Fandom: MCU/Spider-Man Characters:Peter Parker x female!reader, Ned Leeds, Michelle Jones, Betty Brant, Cindy Moon, Flash Thompson Warnings:mentions of cheating on a partner, mentions of mugging, mild swearing, one tiny mention of sex Word Count: 3,129 Requested: This was literally requested by 70 people, I’m not even kidding. Blurb: You, Peter Parker’s girlfriend, have noticed that Peter has distanced himself, and have caught him lying on multiple occasions. When you confront him after being saved by Spider-Man, you are unaware that his excuse is only another one of his lies. A/N: You guys asked for it so here it is! Just a quick reminder that I live in Australia so I’m not on break and I don’t have any holidays, therefore I still won’t be updating as frequently as I wish I could :(
Disclaimer: not my gif
[Y/N] = your first name [L/N] = your last name
You were furious with yourself. There you were, boyfriend-less for only two days and it already felt like you were falling apart. Not only had you lost your boyfriend of almost half a year, but you had also lost a best friend. And it really, really sucked. You allowed yourself to wallow for the weekend, inviting over Michelle to watch horror films. The both of you had collectively decided that romance films were only going to do more damage at that point. And everything felt normal for a while. You and Michelle were laughing over the terrible special effects in a particularly crappy film when reality hit you. Peter, the boy who you had practically been attached to at the hip, was now somebody that you would regard as an “enemy”.
The thought had destroyed you, sending you from peels of laughter into quiet sobs as Michelle paused the film and reached over to hug you. You appreciated her attempts to cheer you up, but it felt like nobody would ever cheer you up again. The pain in your chest felt constant and relentless, and you subconsciously rubbed your chest and collarbones, as if these physical actions could mend your perpetual internal suffering.
“Peter is not worth your pain, Y/N.” Michelle tried to convince you. “That guy is a real asshole for doing what he did to you. And I’m sorry that you feel the way you do right now,” she sighed and retreated from your embrace, only to look you straight in the eyes. “But no boy is worth your tears, unless they’re tears of joy.”
You mustered a smile. “Thanks, Michelle.” you recognised her efforts, and she smiled back at you, coffee-colored eyes showing that she was relieved at your reaction. “I know it’s silly to cry over Peter, especially after the way he treated me and the things he did to me,” you bit your bottom lip. “Is it stupid that I’m dreading going to school the most?” you asked her. “Seeing Peter in the hallway, in class? I sit next to him in every class that we have together, now I have to find a new seat and I’ve already mentally adjusted to the angle of the whiteboard which-“
“I think that you’re overthinking this.” Michelle interrupted. “Find a new seat. One that doesn’t have a view of the back of Peter’s head, and one where he isn’t in your periphery. It’s going to be okay, Y/N. You have me and I’m sure you have Ned, too. You’ll get through this.” you smiled a watery smile, accompanied by tears in your eyes at the sincerity in Michelle’s voice.
“Thanks, Michelle.” you said again, really meaning it this time.
“What the hell, Peter?!” Ned practically stormed into Peter Parker’s bedroom. Peter — who had been lying on his stomach with his elbows propping up his upper body, clutching a pillow tightly to his face — wiped at his face as quickly as possible before facing Ned, who shut Peter’s door loudly. “I haven’t heard from you all weekend and Michelle just told me that you broke up with Y/N?” Peter sniffled before nodding his head. “Is it true? That you cheated on her?” Ned looked so disappointed with Peter that he felt his chest tighten, tears welling in his eyes again, threatening to spill.