I Hate Crocs.

this 😩

another angst that I thought of 😭😭😂 what if y/n has a huge ass crush on harry and she's very open about it and would always call him/introduce him as "my future boyfriend" but then she overheard harry talking bad about her behind her back so she was all sad and mopey

shore!

(this is an au btw)

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“She’s exhausting sometimes, mate. Like she doesn’t have an off switch. She acts like my girlfriend in front of all our friends. It’s embarrassing!”

You’d come into Harry’s room to see if he wanted to order takeout and study for their econ test together, but you paused right before you knocked on his door.

He was embarrassed? Sure, it wasn’t a secret that you were into him. He was cute, he was smart, he was kind to his mom, he was that typical “boy next door” type, and when you met him at the first residence hall meeting, you were smitten.

You weren’t the shy type, so you went over and introduced yourself to him and his friends, compared schedules for the Fall semester, and when you realized you and Harry shared a class, you couldn’t have been happier.

That was a year ago. You were in your second year of university, and you were still dorm neighbors, still ended up having a class together. You and Harry were inseparable, but it wasn’t one sided. He knocked on your door too, asking if you wanted to go to office hours with him or if you wanted to join him for dinner. Just the two of you.

You weren’t sure when the jokes started, it just kind of happened. One time when you were at a party with all of your friends, you introduced yourself to someone as “Harry’s future girlfriend,” and no one batted an eye, not even Harry. He just laughed—not in a mean way—and ruffled your hair. You didn’t see that as him telling you to stop, so you didn’t, and then everyone was in on it. Your friends asked about your “boyfriend” and his greeted you as “H’s girlfriend.” it was all harmless, and it didn’t go much farther beyond a couple pet names and the occasional tap on the nose, but you never would’ve done any of that if you knew Harry was uncomfortable. You had a crush, you weren’t totally unreasonable, but he clearly thought you were.

Unable to help yourself, you stayed a little longer by Harry’s door to hear what else he had to say about you.

“I tried to ask out this girl from our history class today, and she called me an ass because she knew I had a girlfriend! I mean, come on, mate when does it end?”

Now, it ends right now, you thought. You’d done these things because you liked Harry and you thought he maybe liked you too, but that clearly wasn’t the case. You suddenly felt this feeling in the pit of your stomach. Like all the butterflies you got when he smiled at you died one by one.

If Harry didn’t like you, then he should’ve said something. Perhaps him not saying something was his idea of him expressing dislike, but you honestly thought he was okay with all the jokes and flirting. But he wasn’t, and he couldn’t say it to your face. Instead, he hid in his room and ranted about it to a friend when he could’ve just talked to you about it. You weren’t an unreasonable person, if he’d kindly stated his discomfort, you would’ve apologized and ended the whole thing there. You would’ve been a little embarrassed and bummed that he didn’t like you back, but you could move on from that. But you didn’t like people who talked behind your back, and you could be very petty to people who did.

Turning on your heel, you decided to eat dinner and study on your own. A single tear slipped out, but you quickly wiped it away. Harry wasn’t worth crying over.

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

“You didn’t wait for me this morning.”

Looking up from where you were checking your emails on your computer, you saw Harry standing by your desk, his backpack over one shoulder. He had two to-go cups of coffee in his hands, one of which he set down your desk. You peeked at the label stuck to it, a chai latte with two shots of espresso. Your favorite.

“I had a question for the Dr. Marshall,” was your reply. It was a lie, but you didn’t want to tell him you’d been avoiding him since you overheard his phone call the other day.

“Oh. Well, are we still on for lunch and homework in the library? I have this psych paper that is absolutely kicking my ass—"

"I can't today," you said, cutting him off. Normally you'd jump at the opportunity to spend one-on-one time with him, but now you feared the next time you had to be alone with him. You couldn't just turn your feelings for him off, but you couldn't really stand to be around him, either. You didn't know how to act around him anymore.

"Uh...Okay, I guess I'll see you at the party on Friday? You're still going to that, right?"

"Yeah, I am," you said, but what Harry didn't know was that you wouldn't be going with him.

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

"I don't know what to do, Mel! I still like him, but he clearly can't stand me. But then he keeps asking to hang out at the library or to get lunch, and—and—and it drives me insane!"

You were in your dorm with your roommate Mel. She'd agreed to walk with you a couple blocks off campus to a party at some junior's house after the football game tonight. She had been confused as to why you weren't going with your "future boyfriend," and since you hadn't told anyone about what you'd overheard the other day, it kind of just came pouring out of you.

“I’m sorry, babe,” Mel said.

“Like, I know he doesn't like me that way, but I thought if I was affectionate around him or something, I could convince him.”

“You can't Pavlov him into liking you, Y/n,” your roommate said, trying not to laugh.

“Obviously,” you muttered. Looking up at Mel, you asked her seriously, “Am I crazy?”

Mel joined you on your bed, letting you rest your head on her shoulder. “You’re not crazy, Y/n. You have a crush, and unlike most people, you weren’t shy about it. If Harry didn't like it, he should've said something at the beginning. I bet he liked the attention.”

You hummed. She had a point. Harry never told you to stop the flirting, otherwise you would've. You liked him, but you didn't want to play a game you knew you were going to lose.

“Sometimes I got the feeling he actually liked me too, you know? But now I just can't stop hearing how he said I embarrassed him.”

“Would you forgive him if he apologized? Go out with him?” she asked.

“Mmm. I think it would have to be a really nice apology. I still like him, but I don't take kindly to being disrespected.”

“Good girl.” Mel stood up and pulled you to your feet. “Come on, let's get ready for tonight. I have a feeling if you give someone else your attention, Harry'll be falling at your feet.”

Hope fluttered in your stomach, but you tried to ignore it. “You think so?”

Mel nodded before going over to your closet. “Harry took your flirtation for granted. Once he sees you flirting with someone else, he’ll see.”

Even if you didn’t end up going out with Harry, you still wanted to show him what he was missing, so you took the clothes Mel handed over to you. “Alright. Let's do this.”

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

It was about an hour into the party, and you’d yet to go over to Harry.

You saw him come into the house, but instead of going over to him like you normally would, you held back and admired him from afar.

He was in a black and white flannel, half his hair tied up in a bun at the top of his head. He was just so cute, it was infuriating, but you held your ground.

And Mel was there to keep you in check too. She had your arm looped through yours as she introduced you to some of her friends, and after a while she hardly cared about where Harry was or what he was doing.

While you were in line at the keg, you heard your name called. For a moment you were excited that Harry was coming to you instead of the other way around, but it wasn’t him.

“Oh, hey Ash,” you said with a smile. He sat next to you in your history class, and you'd exchanged numbers for study sessions or in case one of you couldn't make it to class and needed notes.

Ash came over and gave you a side hug. “How’ve you been?”

“Fine. This line is a little long, though.”

“Always is,” Ash agreed. “Mind if I cut the line with you?”

“Sure.”

You talked to him about classes and plans for the weekend and whether these parties were actually fun or just something to do.

“So, where’s your boyfriend. Harry, right?”

“Oh, he’s not my boyfriend,” you said, blushing a little.

Ash frowned. “Sorry, I just assumed. It's a small campus and I see you guys together all the time.”

Well, there was no point in lying. “Yeah, I—I’ll be honest and say I had a pretty huge crush on him.”

“Had?”

You nodded. “I’ve recently discovered he doesn’t feel the same.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, and he sounded genuine. You’d never hung out outside of class before, but he seemed like a cool guy. Harry’s friends had become your friends, but now all you could think about was how they all laughed at you behind your back about how pathetic you were. Maybe you could make some new friends.

“Do you want to get out of here?” you asked suddenly. “This line hasn’t moved and there’s a diner with really great milkshakes close by.”

“A milkshake sounds a lot better than cheap beer.”

Ash smiled down at you, and he playfully offered you his arm. You took it, slipping your phone out of your puffy jacket to text Mel you were leaving early. She responded immediately.

Mel☀️☀️: got lucky? ;))

Rolling your eyes, you quickly typed out a response.

You: yes, but not the way you think. he's a friend

On your way out, your name was called for the second time tonight. You looked up from your phone to see Harry jogging over to catch up to you.

“Hey, I haven’t seen you all night. Where have you been?”

The urge to hug him was strong, but you held fast onto Ash’s arm. “I’ve been around.”

“I’ve missed you,” he said. “Come play beer pong with us. We’re up against Zayn and his girlfriend.”

Stay strong, stay strong, stay strong, you thought. “Thanks, H, but Ash and I were just leaving.”

Almost as if he didn't notice Ash standing next to you with your arm looped through his, Harry looked over, a small frown on his lips. “Oh, um, well then I guess I’ll see you tomorrow?”

You went to respond, but Ash beat you to it. “Actually, we have a history test coming up. We were going to study together.”

Harry’s face fell even further, and while you wanted to distance yourself because he hurt you, you still didn't like the idea of hurting him. “You could join us if you want.”

Harry suddenly straightened up, an easy smile on his face. “No, no I’ll see you around. Take care, Y/n.”

You and Ash left soon after, and once you were far enough away from the party, you asked, “What was that about? We don’t have a history test.”

Ash shrugged. “He likes you. He just needs a little push.”

“How can you tell?”

“Well, he couldn’t stop staring at how close we were, and he watched us leave, was standing by the door until we turned the corner.”

“Really?” How did you not notice?

“Yeah,” Ash said. “I think just a couple times of us hanging out will make him putty in your hands.”

Well, that seemed nice. “And what’s in it for you?”

“Nothing. We’re friends, and friends help each other.”

Ash was definitely interesting, and you liked him, as a friend, obviously. He felt like a big brother looking out for you, and you could use a little of that.

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

Another Friday night, another party.

You were with Ash and his friends and Mel, a group that was actually very fun. Oh, and Harry was there too.

You hadn't been hanging out with him very much, but not to the point of being rude. You just kept yourself busy, and the longer you went not spending time together, the more he kept pestering you about it.

“I feel like I never see you anymore,” he said earlier tonight. He asked if you wanted to skip the party tonight and watch movies in his room. It was exactly the kind of thing you wanted to do with him, but you couldn't just cancel on your friends, and you liked hanging out with Ash. So you invited him, and he said yes.

Harry was practically by your side the whole night, not touching you or anything like that, but his closeness definitely sent a message to any guy—or girl—who seemed interested.

You weren’t even dressed up, but you felt good. You'd just had your braids redone, your edges were laid perfectly, and the green top you were wearing just popped perfectly on your skin. If Harry didn’t at least find you attractive, he was an idiot.

And now you were sitting in some frat house backyard, your head resting on Ash’s shoulder. You could feel Harry’s glare from here, but he remained quiet as he sipped on his beer, hardly saying a word since you met up with your friends.

“I think tonight might be the night,” you said to Ash quietly, a smile on your face. Harry had been glowering all night, had complained that he didn't get to see you as much as he used to the last couple weeks, but he still didn't outwardly express his feelings. You'd done enough of that already. Now it was his turn.

“Yeah? He does look pretty pissed,” Ash agreed. He subtly gave you a fist bump before rejoining his conversation with Mel, who winked at you on his other side.

After a few more minutes, Harry cleared his throat. “Y/n, do you want to come get another drink?”

He was glaring at where your head was on Ash’s shoulder, but you just smiled like nothing was amiss. “I haven't finished mine, but thanks,” you said.

“Please?” He sounded hurt, and one thing you didn't want to do was hurt him the way he hurt you.

Winking at Ash and Mel, you stood up and straightened your skirt. “Sure. I’ll be back, guys.”

When you walked over to him, you almost wished he would put his arm around you or something, but he didn’t, the only time he touched you being when the crowd inside got a little too thick and he grabbed your wrist so he wouldn't lose you.

Instead of going to the kitchen where a mini bar had been set up, Harry led you to the front of the house, sitting down on the porch swing. You sat down next to him, keeping a small sliver of distance between the two of you.

“You normally sit on my lap,” Harry mused, his foot pushing against the floor to rock the porch swing back and forth a little.

“Normally,” you said, because he was right. You used to sit on his lap and play with his hair at parties, and now you weren't even touching him. “I don't want to give anyone the wrong idea, though.”

“Okay, what is going on here? Am I missing something?” he asked, the words sounding like they tumbled out of him before he could stop them.

“What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean! You were all over me for a whole year and now—”

“Now? Now I realized that it embarrasses you and it got in the way of seeing people you actually have feelings for, so I’ve moved on.”

“Well where the hell did you get that from?” he asked, bewildered.

“From you! You said those things a few weeks ago on the phone,” you said. You didn't raise your voice often, but Harry could be so dense sometimes.

Realization seemed to dawn on him. “You heard me when I—”

“Uh huh.” You raised your brows at him, waiting for an explanation.

“I, uh, my friends constantly teased me. About you. I just thought if I told them what they wanted to hear they would leave me alone. I didn't realize—”

“So, instead of sticking up for me, you played along?” you shook your head in disbelief. “God you're a dick.”

“I know, I’m sorry. It wasn't right, and saying all that stuff felt like acid on my tongue. I wish I could take them back.”

“Me too,” you said resting your chin in your hands. When you felt like you weren't about to cry, you looked over at him, only to find him waiting to meet your gaze. “Are you really embarrassed by me? Why did you never tell me to stop? I would've if you'd said something, but it didn't seem like it bothered you.”

“You don't, and I wasn’t bothered, I just—”

“Just what?”

“I—I’m not like you, Y/n, it’s hard for me to just wear my heart on my sleeve the way you do.”

Well that much was obvious, but you were glad he was opening up to you now. “I don't need you to be like me, or even like me like that, I just want you to tell me to stop if you're uncomfortable.”

“But that's the thing. I'm not uncomfortable,” he said. Reaching his hand out, he settled it over yours. “It was just so full on from the beginning, and I don't mean to sound like more of an asshole than I already have, but it was hard to determine if I liked the attention or that it was you giving me that attention.”

“I guess that makes sense,” you said. “I’m sorry, I know I can be kind of intense.”

“Don’t apologize for being who you are, Y/n. I was the one who couldn't identify my feelings.”

“And have you? Identified your feelings?”

You looked at Harry, trying to read the expression on his face, but he could be so guarded sometimes.

But then he nodded, and the hand that was resting on yours shifted so he was holding it. “I...really like you. Not spending time with you has been absolute torture, and I—I know I probably ruined my chances with you, but since you were nothing but honest about your feelings before, I just thought I should tell you.

“But I won't—I won't, like, get in the way of things if you like that Ash guy,” he said.

You smiled a little when he mentioned Ash. Instead of answering, you stood up and moved so you were standing in front of him. Looking down at his lap, then back to his eyes, you asked, “Is this seat taken?”

Harry chuckled, his dimples flashing for the first time tonight. “Nope. All yours.”

You made yourself comfortable on his lap, and he was quick to wrap his arms around your waist. Your hands immediately went for his hair, and he leaned into it, humming with pleasure, practically purring like a cat.

“I’ve missed this,” he said, his eyes closed as you continued to scratch your nails against his scalp.

“Could’ve had this if you hadn't opened your big mouth,” you joked.

Opening his eyes, he looked into yours, serious all of a sudden. “I really am sorry for that.”

Harry had been a dick, but he wasn't the same as you. Sure, you wished he'd open up more, and maybe he would, but you couldn't expect him to change so suddenly. “I...accept your apology. Just please don't do it again. You really hurt my feelings.”

He nodded. “Of course, and you might not believe me, but I’ll defend you against anyone. My friends were being pricks, and I should've stood up for you. I won't make that same mistake again.”

“I know you won't,” you said. This was his second chance. If Harry really likes you like he said, he wouldn't fuck it up again.

“Well, now that that's out of the way, I’d like to do something, but I have to make sure of something first,” Harry said. He took your chin in his hand, caressing your cheek with his thumb. “You’re not dating that Rash character are you?”

You threw your head back and laughed. “Ash. His name is Ash. And no, I’m not dating him, he's just a friend. He was part of my plan to help you pull your head out of your ass.”

“Oh. Well then I should thank him, but that can wait. I'd rather do something else right now.”

“Yeah? Like what?”

Harry didn't answer, just brought your lips down to his. The kiss was everything you wanted it to be and more. His lips were buttery soft, moving with yours perfectly, like you were made for each other. His tongue made your heart swell about three sizes, and you couldn't help but dig your nails into his hair and tug a little, making him groan around your mouth.

His hands stayed at your waist, but you moved them lower, encouraging him to explore, and then he was everywhere. It didn't matter that you were outside where anyone could see you. As far as you and Harry were concerned, you were the only two people on earth to exist.

You noticed—barely, as Harry’s lips had you in a pretty stellar daze—that he'd been avoiding touching our hair at all. Moving to his neck to kiss and suck marks on his skin, you breathed, “You can touch them. The braids.”

“I just didn’t—I mean I know it's a sensitive subject—”

“You didn't ask, H. I'm telling you you can, that's the difference. I want you to.”

Nodding, Harry ran his hands through them, a small smile on his face. “They’re beautiful. You're beautiful.”

“Thank you. So are you,” you said.

Leaning down, you kissed him once again, and there wasn't much talking after that. You could've sat there for hours, kissing and touching and exploring. You wanted to know which areas made Harry’s breath hitch and which ones made him moan and which ones had him gripping your backside harder and pulling you closer. So you did just that, and so did he. He found your favorite spot just behind your ear and the one at the base of your neck. He made you shiver and push your hips against his when he reached underneath your shirt, not touching or exploring, just sitting there and enjoying the warmth of your skin.

Your body reacted to every little thing he did, and so did he, to the point where you felt his jeans tighten beneath you.

“Wanna get out of here?” he asked softly against your chest, placing open mouthed kisses right where the v of your blouse covered your breast.

“God yes,” you practically whined, making Harry chuckle, though he was just as desperate to leave as you were. “I have to tell Ash and Mel that I’m leaving first, though.”

So you slid off Harry, and this time he was all over you, arms around your waist and fingers resting on the sliver of skin between your blouse and skirt. When you return, the whole group watched you walk over. Someone whistled, but you couldn't tell who. Embarrassed all of a sudden, you turned your face into Harry's chest. Perhaps it was disbelief that it was actually happening.

“Take a wrong turn? You've been gone a while,” Mel said, a knowing smile on her face.

“We actually came to tell you we're leaving,” Harry said. “Probably to have sex, but we’ll see how it goes.”

Your mouth dropped into an ‘o’ in total shock. Slapping his chest, you said, “I cannot believe you just said that!”

“What? I'm just being honest. I'm all about being open and honest about my feelings now,” Harry said, not at all embarrassed by what he said.

“Oh God, I've created monster,” you groaned.

Your friends waved you off with teasing and laughter, but all you could focus on was Harry's thumb rubbing circles into your skin as he said, “You did, and you'll find that I'm quite insatiable.”

With a pinch to your bum, you squealed and pulled Harry out of the house as fast as you could without running. Harry opened his car door for you and practically sprinted to the other side so you could be off. His hand was on your thigh the whole way back to campus, reaching higher and higher, then coming back down your leg. It was torture, but the good kind. You were nearly buzzing with anticipation by the time he parked and let you out of the car.

And the second you were alone in his room, you were on him. Harry's hands were not so shy now that you were truly alone, reaching under your skirt and kneading your skin for all it was worth. You squeezed him hard once his mouth started exploring too, unable to much more than pull his hair and exhale encouraging words until you were a mess underneath him. He gave you a cocky smile as he kissed the corner of your mouth, but you were quick to pin him beneath you, eager to blow his mind the way he did for you.

You'd left the party early, but as far as you were concerned, you were just getting started.

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a quick note: i just wanted to say that i don't pretend to know what it's like to be black or to have a black woman's hair, but an anon asked if i would ever write from a black woman's perspective, and i always want to represent all walks of life in my writing. i hope this fic and the mentions of black women's hair is respectful and not offensive to anyone. pleas let me know if it is and i will change it immediately. all my love💕💕

harry's home

a/n: inspired by the beginning of 'As it Was': "Come on, Harry, we wanna say “Goodnight” to you".

Summary: Harry arrives home late, now he has to deal with the wrath of his 3 year old.

Warnings: none! domestic fluff?

Pairings: Dad!Harry x black!reader (doesn't mean the exception can't read)

-

It’s 10:05pm when Harry finally walks through the door of his home. He knew everyone would be asleep by now, so he’ll have to settle with giving a kiss on the head to a sleeping Mara, his three year old. And a cuddle with his sleeping wife. Once she knocks out, she knocks out.

The light in the living-room is left on by her, but other than that it’s as silent as a mouse.

He’s just ecstatic to be home. Any time he walks through the door, it's like his soul can take a deep breath, breathing in how tranquil it’ll always be. He hangs his keys on the key rack; his coat goes in the small closet, and shoes on the shelf there.

Once he’s finished, he sighs contentedly, dropping his hands to sit on his hips. Smiling as he looks around at the place — leaving his suitcase on the floor— that was created home alongside his loving, tactful wife, as a result of giving them Mara.

The never-ending photos on the wall in the living-room make him naturally smile.

Their wedding day: where Harry holds both their hands up in cheer as they walk down the aisle, eyes never breaking contact. Mara’s first birthday: her face covered to the rim with icing as she smiles, her father’s smile, and holds up both hands trying to get a hand on the camera in curiosity. A very, very old, blurry picture of y/n and Harry at his first concert. They were 16 and always took the time to cringe at their choices of wardrobe.

Mara’s knickknacks are all over the floor.

When he yawns, he knows it’s time to hurry up, get ready for bed before he drops dead on the floor. That is definitely not how he’d like his family to see him first thing in the morning after not being here for a week.

He grabs his suitcase by the handle and heads upstairs.

When he hits the first step, he looks up, realizing something is off. His three-year-old sits on the top step, arms crossed in front of her chest.

“Baby, aren’t you supposed to be in bed?”

“Mara is upset with daddy,” she answers, clipped.

Her plump lips form duck lips with how upset she is, causing her cheeks to puff out even more than they do. Eyes glared at her father. He can also see the glisten on her skin, knowing her mother has dipped her in a bottle of Aquaphor. She’s dressed in her new Encanto sleep dress. Her new obsession. Her curls are braided down in two plait braids. He assumes, but her lavender, silk bonnet blocks him from seeing.

He has no idea how long she’s been waiting on the step for him. But he knows her sneaky little self waited until her mother fell asleep to do so.

“Why is my bunny upset with daddy?” He asks, he so terribly wants to climb up those stairs and throw her into his arms. But she’s upset and doesn’t like physical affection while being so.

“Daddy, you said a week. It’s been years!” She squalls, her eyes go wide at her admission.

“It’s been exactly seven days, what calendar are you looking at?”

“You were 'upposed to be home with the sun!”

“I know, but there were many mess ups today.”

“Mara is upset with daddy,” she parrots, standing up. Sweeping over his reasoning, it didn’t matter what happened, when Mara expected her father home; she expected to see him then.

“Daddy is sorry and he hasn’t seen Mara in a week, and he would really, really love it if he could give you a hug and kiss.”

She considers it, her forefinger bouncing off her chin and her right foot tapping on the floor. It feels like forever, but within thirty seconds she nods her head, yes, stands up, and leaves her arms open and out.

No matter what Harry thought, his two girls would always run him.

He gleams as he shifts up those stairs at lightning speed, and growls lightly when he picks her up and sits her in his arms, like a swing. The front of her legs against his chest, bum sat on his arms, and her arms hook around his neck.

She laughs at the tickles he sends to her side.

“Daddy missed you so much, sweet pea” he kisses all over her face. It’s been a week since he’s seen her cherub face in person; he doesn’t know how he’ll do months at a time.

“How much?”

“Oh, that’s a tough question,” he murmurs. “Hmm… is a penny big?”

“No,” she laughs.

“You’re right, how about a button?”

“Daddy, you’re silly,” she laughs harder.

He snaps his finger, eyes going wide like a daffy scientist. “You wanna know how much I missed you?” He knows she wants to know oh so badly.

She nods eagerly.

“The size… of the… moon!” He throws her in the air once, catches her, before he tickles, watching her charged body squirm around. Her tiny hands try with her all might to push his hands away.

“Uncle! Uncle! Uncle!” She laughs, tears forming at the corner of her eyes.

They both laugh once he stops and she rests herself against his chest. Her glare, pouty mouth, and crossed demeanor are long gone. Mara holds onto her father tightly; some fingers in her right hand playing with his ear lobe-- her finger rattles his drop earring-- something she’s picked up from her mother.

“Daddy’s sorry he’s been gone a lot lately.” he whispers, rocking her softly and kisses the crown of her head.

“It’s okay, Daddy here now.” she slurs.

“I love you so much, bigger than the galaxy.”

“Infinity” the word comes out garbled, a tough one for her, but he understands it perfectly.

“Even that” he hums, his free hand running up and down her back.

“Daddy” Mara sits up from her position.

“Hm?”

Her hands rest on his scruffy cheeks. “I’m sorry for being upset at you. ‘Didn’t mean it.” Her eyes look up into his as her bottom lip pops out. “I just wanted to say ‘night”

“Hey, there’s no need for that, alright.” He kisses her nose. “If that’s how you feel then that’s fine, I’m proud you talked to me about it”

She smiles at his assurance, before she rests back against him.

“Night, night”

“Goodnight, baby”

He rocks her to sleep, in the dimly lit hallway, just them two in the middle of the night. It’s things like this that he cherishes.

Before he grasps it, she snores lightly. Mouth hung slightly open. He walks into her lavender room: sets her in her big girl Princess bed, tucks her in, fixes her bonnet, and kisses her cheek, then her nose before he whispers a good night.

He checks his watch to see it’s 10:35. Yep, she’ll definitely be Oscar the Grouch in the morning.

He looks at her one more time before he retreats into his shared bedroom. His first stop is his bed. Where, peacefully, his other half sleeps. The blanket covered her nose. Her arms lay under her head, and from the small peek he can see of her shoulder, she’s wearing his favorite nightie.

He was meant to be here mid-afternoon but problem after problem arose, delaying his trip home.

He walks towards her figure and kisses her cheek; Goes in the closet to gather his sleeping clothes (a pair of sweats) and heads to the bathroom to wash up.

Once he’s out of the shower, smelling like vanilla. He walks out and shimmies behind your body. Of course, you’re still out like a light.

His tattooed arm rests over your torso and his leg fits right in between yours. He breathes in your hair through your bonnet. Manuka honey has become his favorite thing since you’ve used it.

It reminds him of home. You remind him of home. His little one reminds him of home.

-

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i won’t say anything weird anymore i prommy (different way of saying promise)

sweet

peter parker x reader

summary: two times that peter parker is the sweetest boyfriend

“Y/N!” Peter hisses, knocking his knee into yours under the desk. 

“What?” you whisper, not peeling your attention away from the board as you furiously copy down the notes. 

“I’m bored.” he says sheepishly as you roll your eyes. 

“Why don’t you maybe, focus on the lesson?” you suggest. 

Peter groans dramatically and lays his head on top of his notebook. 

“I know it all already.” he shrugs, leaning over and digging through your pencil case. 

“Well we can’t all be geniuses,” you say as you flip the page and continue scribbling. “Some of us are gonna fail the test on radioactive substances if you don’t shut up and let me write.”

“I’m radioactive,” he rolls his eyes. “I’ll tutor you before the test.”

He settles on a red pen from your pencil case and twirls it between his fingers, clicking it on and off repeatedly. 

“Peter!” you mutter. “That is infuriating.”

“Sorry,” he grins at you, happy to have your attention for a moment, and sighing when you turn away, frowning at an especially lengthy paragraph in the textbook you and Peter were supposed to be sharing. 

He wraps his fingers around your wrist and pulls it in front of him, turning your arm palm-up. You ignore him as you read, attempting to understand the subject. You feel a slight tickling sensation of your wrist accompanied by the pressure of Peter’s hands as he hooks his arm around yours to give himself better access to you. 

…emission of alpha particles, or conversion of neutrons to protons or the reverse… 

You sigh, pushing the book away from you with your free hand. It’s impossible to concentrate with the tickling sensation on your wrist.

“Peter,” you hiss one last time. “What are you doing?”

Peter freezes, blinking like a deer in the headlights when you tip your gaze to where he’s working on your wrist. Inked onto the skin just below your palm in red ballpoint pen is a tiny, slightly lopsided heart. Leaning closer, you can make out a little ‘P’ entwined with your own first initial. 

“Aw, Pete,” you whisper, quickly kissing his cheek ever so softly to avoid the glare of the teacher at the front. “It’s so sweet. You’re so sweet.”

Peter scrunches up his nose in response to your compliment, relishing the moment of attention from you he’d craved in a boring class. 

“No,” he begins sweetly. “You’re-” “Parker!” below the teacher. Peter’s ears turned red as the whole class turned to glare at him. “Are you taking notes or are you just distracting Miss Y/L/N?”

Peter shrinks away from you, picking up the red pen and pretending to make notes. 

You giggle, resuming your own work but not before nudging him underneath the table and pulling a face, earning yourself the sweetest grin from him. 

・°☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°☆

7:25am. Friday. 

The incessant buzzing of your phone pulls you out of your dozing and you groan, picking it up blearily - only answering because you know exactly who’s calling. He calls at this time every school morning. 

“Good morning my love,” he says cheerily. You can hear the faint beeping and honking of early morning traffic from his end of the line, proof that he’s out on his morning patrol like usual. 

Your only reply is a sleepy ‘hhmf’ as you snuggle back into the duvet warding off the chilly New York morning. 

“It’s time to get up, baby.” Peter says right on cue. 

“But I’m so sleepy and cozy,” you protest. “I absolutely cannot get up for school.”

Peter chuckles, preparing himself for the sleepy argument you two have every morning when he calls to make sure you’re getting up. 

“If you don’t get up and come to school, I won’t get to see you today.” he points out and you can almost hear the playful pout on his face as he speaks softly, knowing you’re still half asleep. 

“You can come over after,” you say. “Imagine how chatty and cheerful I’ll be then when I’m fully rested.”

Peter shakes his head, resting on the rooftop of an apartment block. From his point of view he’s just across the street from your apartment and he can see your bedroom window, blinds still drawn to block out the morning rays. 

“If you get up and come to school today, I’ll take you to that do-it-yourself pottery place after. They don’t close until six on a Friday.” he bargains. 

You gasp. 

“Lots of Pots?” you ask. “Can we make mugs for each other again?”

Peter chuckles, already picturing adding the new addition to the collection of multi-colored mugs you’d made for him and May so far. 

“This is all conditional on you getting up, though.” he reminds you. 

“Alright, alright, I’m getting up,” you say as you kick the duvet off and make no move to stand up. 

“No, you’re not,” Peter sighs as your blind doesn’t lift. “Looks like I’m swinging over then,” he says as he pushes himself to his feet. “Be at your window in a second or I’m breaking in and tipping you out of bed.”

Peter calling you after morning patrol to make sure you’re getting up for school had become routine over the few months of your relationship, usually ending up with him coming over and pulling your pajama-clad body out of bed before he himself would get changed into the school clothes of his he kept in your closet and making sure you both got out the door in time. And he loved it. 

・°☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°☆

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just wanting to prove a quick point here. reblog if you believe loki is a complex, well-developed, three-dimensional character who didn’t deserve to be killed in the first 5 minutes of the movie. let’s see how many we are

fix it fics can not fix this i need a gun

this is pure talent

As I announced, my digital drawing of Moon Knight as a real knight - an inspiration for an upcoming AU-fic. 🌙

Writing and drawing requests are open

when harry styles said “leave america”. he was so right