:)

The airport was crowded, more crowded than you knew, or would have liked. The Superbowl had driven even more excited, and more importantly, noisy tourists into the city, and all those people, many of them in mixed moods about the outcome of the game, felt like they were just in the area where you were. The loud shouting of children who had lost their parents, mothers trying to find their children, fathers irritated pulling their family to another gate and even more young people, like you, stopping in the way to make sure they were right.

And in the midst of this stream you stood, flanked by Quackity and Karl, scanning the crowd of just-arrived guests with restless eyes, confident your thoughts were even more muddled than this crowded hall.

Restlessly you stood on your tiptoes several times, but the sea of heads was moving too fast for you to see any better. Your stomach flipped every time a dark mop of hair poked out or your gaze lingered on a taller young man.

"Calm down, (y/n), he's not going to run away," Karl laughed as you once again pulled your phone out of your back pocket and checked your messages. Although it was almost impossible to receive anything at all with the overload of lines, you reached for your phone out of sheer nervousness.

With heat in your cheeks, thankfully hidden by the mask on your face, you shoved your hands with the phone into your jacket pockets so you wouldn't be tempted to check again. "What if something happened and he can't reach us?" you inquired, eyes back on the gate "Or maybe we missed each other"

Now Quackity leaned into your side as well and put an arm around you "Hey, then we'll go outside and can call him there. Let's wait for everyone to get out first, they should all still be passengers from his flight" Quackity adjusted his beanie, he seemed to be the calm himself, just like Karl who was watching the gates like you, and nodded.

"But interesting how excited you are" he started and despite the mask you could sense his grin. His teasing tone made you hesitate and squint to the side. Part of you dreaded what was coming. "When we were going to meet Quackity you were much quieter, wasn't he as special as Foolish?"

"What? No!" you immediately protested, but Quackity was already tilting his head.

"Oh is that so? Nah look at that, I guess I'm not as important to them as Foolish," he teased you, turning away from you in feigned hurt.

You knew the two of them were just teasing you, they had been doing it for weeks and you knew Quackity wasn't taking it personally and yet you felt the urge to defend yourself. "Q, Karl is lying to you! We were both excited and who ended up opening the door for you? Mhm? I think it was me"

"Because I was just in the bathroom!" complained Karl.

"Gee, I guess if Quackity was more important to you, you should have just peed your pants" you responded in a similar tone to Quackity, almost scolding him and poking him in the side. But when they both decided to do the same to you at the same time, you ended up with two elbows in your side at the very moment the crowd thinned slightly and a young man stepped out of the gate with a bag slung over his shoulder.

You gasped for air, but only inhaled mask and began to pull frantically on Karl's arm, because you didn't have enough oxygen to even think of properly formulated words. Fortunately, Quackity had also spotted Foolish and he and Karl began waving at the man looking around with their hands extended upward, while you could only stand there, brain turned off and unable to look away.

The few seconds he pushed his way through the crowd to you, it felt like he was only looking at you, like it was just the two of you alone in this infinitely crowded waiting area. Even Karl and Quackity were forgotten for the time being, at least until Foolish arrived at your side and was immediately pulled into a hug by Karl. After also greeting Quackity with a handshake and a half hug, he turned to you and your world stopped the moment his bag fell thudding to the floor and you found yourself pressed against his chest.

The only thing that mattered was him.

The next few days were going to be incredible.

it had been Quackity's idea to rent a car for the week and of course you were all the more excited that it was a really good-looking and above all a fast car

after the welcomes you had thrown Foolish's bag into the trunk, ready to show him LA

The wind was lukewarm in your face, blowing through the open car as Quackity drove over the streets of LA, one hand loosely on the steering wheel as he talked to Foolish about his flight via the rearview mirror. Since Karl had gotten right into the passenger seat, since he would be the one controlling the music, and simply because he had shouted "shotgun" the quickest, you had dropped back into the back seat again without much grumbling, except that, unlike the drive to the airport, Foolish was now sitting next to you. You were separated by the empty middle, but this was closer than you had ever been.

Foolish smiled, busy at the same time taking in the scenery passing you, but also talking to Karl and Quackity about football or his trip. But he was smiling, and that was the most important thing to you. You didn't have to follow the conversation to know how happy he was right now, and you felt no different.

In between, his eyes landed on you, your head leaning against the backrest and a dreamy expression on your face, and his smile grew a little bigger, which in turn made you grin. You hadn't talked much yet, only briefly when you had helped him put his bag away while Q and Karl had already gotten into the car, and that had only been about his well-being.

Still, you didn't have to say much to each other, because at some point during the ride, his hand slipped over the empty seat in the middle and gently stroked your fingertips before he withdrew it and went back to talking to the other two.

you drove until the sun first dipped the city in a golden light before it disappeared on the horizon and it was the headlights of the car that now illuminated the street

when you went out to dinner in the evening and Quackity gave Foolish a rose, you laughed at Foolish's gesture and puzzled look. There was no nicer way to celebrate Valentine's Day than with your closest friends

each of you had your own hotel room, but that would have been an unnecessary decision within the first two days

The sounds of the city flooded Foolish's hotel room, becoming a pleasant background noise to your and Foolish's conversation. You lay tired from dinner on his bed, you with your head on his chest, looking up at the hotel ceiling on which the city lights danced. Foolish had one arm wrapped around you, letting his fingertips dance over your arms or lightly patting your head. Since the first breakfast together you had been inseparable, colliding like two magnets, as soon as he had taken your hand after breakfast and had not let it go after that. Every time you went somewhere, his hand had found yours as a matter of course, whether it was walking through the city, short distances up to the hotel room, and even sometimes on the escalator while shopping.

It felt right.

Like there had never been anything else.

Foolish's breath hit the back of your head haltingly as his chest vibrated under his laughter and his fingers slid from your arm down to your wrist where they slowly drifted over your palm, his rougher fingertips moving up to yours. You looked down at your hands and the difference in size of your hands laid flat against each other.

"You know," Foolish murmured, tapping his fingers against yours before sliding them between yours "I've wondered every day who's behind this great person I talk to every day. I wonder what you look like, what it's like to talk to you in person about all these things, how you smile and if your face really lights up when you laugh like Karl told me it would" Wondering what he was alluding to you turned and rested your cheek on his shoulder and looked up at him.

His gaze met yours.

And suddenly you knew what he wanted to tell you.

dream • totally be appreciative of the fact that you cook.

• he told you that he makes a "banger guacamole" that people ask him to make all the time because he just wants to get even with you.

• sharing recipes in his kitchen.

• he is so weirdly competitive so he hosts random cooking competitions of coming up with something on the spot.

• of course you would win because the only thing he can decently execute is enchiladas and eggplant parmesan.

• you actually try to teach him and dream is always willing to learn. he constantly asks specific questions like, "what happens if i go over like half a cup?", or "what's the difference of using this or that?"

• which you would always appreciate because the more questions he asks means he's interested.

• sneaks you kisses every time he passes you in the kitchen.

• for example, forehead or temple kisses as you mix together a marinade. surprise shoulder kisses while you cut the vegetables or cheek kisses from behind as thanks for a hearty meal.

• he often shares his experience in cooking with you on his social media.

• chat recognizes you as someone who hands him something to eat in the middle of the stream. he mutes before taking the plate and then unmuting himself. chat could hear his cute laugh because his heart is warming.

• "thank you!" dream's voice sounded like he was far from the mic but his laugh faded in as he had leaned back towards the mic.

• "aww, chat she's so sweet!"

***

george • george really likes to pretend that he's gordon ramsay and because you love him so, you played along with him, acting as though you're one of the contestants of hell's kitchen

• one of his tiktok ideas was to reenact a dramatic scene where a food critic judges a plate. you wanted to roll your eyes. george is so silly.

• but he would always compliment your cooking, it's like he has always something to say. "what was that?", " did you add something... spicy?", "what's the name of the ingredient you used?"

• he names your phone contact chef y/n because he is THAT proud for having a chef for a girlfriend. also calls you that in real life sometimes.

• you know that his streaming setup is literally beside his kitchen?

• one time he was streaming, he sees you in his right where the kitchen was, and the delicious scent was so strong that it distracted him. it wafted throughout the whole room that it made him so hungry.

• now, you are prohibited to cook while he's on a stream.

• but one time he was getting hungry while he was still live. he hurriedly messaged you on discord, asking if you could cook him something. you did, coming up the stairs and headed straight to the kitchen.

• inevitably, he got distracted, glancing at his right every once in a while. many minutes after, you handed him a bowl of his favorite meal. you watched in amusement when he instantly devoured the poor food.

• george does a cooking show. "in my kitchen?" you asked casually, but he ignored you. he wanted to cook a nice dinner for two and you rolled your eyes. he also said that he wanted to prove that he can also cook as great as you.

• you wanted to give him a simple tip, but he simply faced you and said, "you're not the chef tonight. i am. see who's wearing the- the powerful hat?" he carelessly held the knife and pointed it at his chef's cap.

• so you didn't interfere with him for the rest of his stream. you idly watched as he messed up the temperature, messed up the seasonings, and messed up the garnish. when george looked at you for approval from behind the camera, you gave him a weak thumbs up.

***

sapnap • he asks a lot of questions. weird ones, even.

• "can you bake a minecraft cake in real life?"

• you just shake your head and laugh at his curiosity. "i can try." you would always say, but never commit because you were sure that he could never finish it and it would just be left rotting in the fridge.

• but after countless persuading, you relented. sapnap had this idea of eating minecraft food in real life. he just gave you the list of food and you had to make it. you researched what it looks like and how other people would make it.

• of course, you forced sapnap to help you with the groceries. he carried bags of ingredients and plopped them on the counter as you rolled up your sleeves as if you were a surgeon who is about to undergo a serious operation.

• he proudly credits your craftmanship on the video. you made sure that the rotten flesh had a bit of poison (meaning adding an ingredient that sapnap truly hates). his face scrunched into an awful grimace. "ugh! what is that?!" he wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his hoodie. "that's disgusting. remind me to never eat rotten flesh again."

***

quackity  • very interested in the fact that you cook.

• but he doesn't believe that you're better than him. he always boasts that he knows his spices and recipes and wouldn't dare share them with you.

• the two of you take turns in cooking dinners. you suggested the routine because he is so busy at night that he skips meals and you wouldn't allow that. he could cook to distract himself.

• but you were very displeased when he bought an air fryer. he explains that sometimes he gets lazy in cooking something incredible, in which you harshly replied that he could just have you cook for him.

• you were disappointed, but you didn't have him return the fryer. you just advised him not to use it too much.

• you were about to bake him a cake for him reaching 7 million subscribers on Youtube. you were alone in your kitchen with the ingredients you needed. you combined the components with the stand mixer you just bought. turning it on, it made loud whirring noises.

• what you didn't know was that alex was actually streaming in the next room. he was talking about a dream he had about driving a steep hill when suddenly, he removed one-half of his headphones off his ear.

• he hears the familiar buzzing of a machine from the outside of his room. he muted his mic before craning his neck so you could hear him clearly. "amor?"

• obviously, you wouldn't be able to hear the first time because of the loud mixer, but the moment you turned it off, you heard your name being called.

• you were confused why he was shouting at you instead of coming here but it was better since the cake was supposed to be a surprise. "yeah?" you called back.

• "i'm streaming!"

• "ah-" you mumbled under your breath. "sorry!"

***

karl • "that is so cool. you are so cool."

• he is totally amazed, and at the same time wants to be involved in the kitchen to help you with stuff.

• he really likes watching you do your thing rather than wait around with his phone.

• you didn't know what to feel seeing him leaning on the counter with his arms crossed, his eyes following your every move. when you asked him if he was alright, he just dismissed you and said, "go ahead, pretend i am not here."

• sometimes though, you would feel bad because he's just freaking standing there. so you wanted to have him do something for you.

• you were trying to mix the dough, but it was becoming too thick so you needed karl to hold the bowl as you whisk through it.

• you only have a hand mixer so karl was watching the mixture harden as you combined it all.

• you were carefully handling the hand mixer, so you were slightly startled when he planted a light kiss on the temple of your forehead.

• you were caught so off guard but it didn't stop the smile that was spreading across your face.

• he always goes on a pee break on his streams. he announced to the whole stream and his friends on the call that he was going to the bathroom before dashing out.

• he hurriedly comes inside the washroom and does his business. washing his hands properly, he comes outside and smelled that you just finished cooking something.

• "ooh what's that-" you quickly smacked his hand away before he could touch it.

• "did you wash your hands?"

• "yes. i washed my hands for exactly 1 minute, i swear."

• karl comes back to his studio with a dish of something you made. he passionately talks about the food in front of the camera, telling exactly how he obtained the meal.

• "y/n is such a good chef, chat. look at this," he angled the plate until they could see it, careful not to let the food drop. "she's so great. i love her and her food."

***

You guys weren’t dating, so it wasn’t like you had any valid reason to feel like this. He wasn’t yours, and you weren’t his.

So why was there a gaping pit opening in your stomach at the sight of a girl talking to George? Realistically, you couldn’t blame her for approaching him. He truly looked so pretty under the lights of the club, and he had no other girls near him while you were at the bar, so it made sense.

A flirty smile played on his mouth as he brushed a piece of her hair behind her ear, and emerald envy filled you to the brim. Drink tensely held in your hand as you made your way back to your group, a small scowl on your face.

George’s eyes flickered to yours for a moment, a simple eyebrow raised in your direction, before focusing on the blonde next to him again. Why was he entertaining her?

You felt a nudge to your side, and your gaze flitted up to Wilbur’s questioning one. Looking away, you sipped your drink, hoping to hide the frown marring your lips from his view. Feeling him shift closer, you tensed up, knowing that your friend was about to make comments you certainly did not care to hear.

“For someone who claims to just be friends with him, you really look like you want her dead,” Wilbur said, voice laced in a teasing tone. You hummed in response, shrugging your shoulders at his words. You knew he was right, but admitting that you were jealous at this moment would always lead to more questions.

Even with the club’s music blaring, you could hear the girl’s giggles from your place across the section that all of your friend group was sharing, and slowly the pit in your stomach filled with lead. Acidic possessiveness ate its way through your chest, and a bitter laugh was attempting to claw its way up to your throat.

Without fail, he always managed to make you feel like this. It didn’t matter if he never went home with any of them, it’s the fact that he still did this, despite laying a conscious claim to your body.

Unknowingly to him, your heart as well. Or maybe, he did know that you had fallen for him, and he took advantage of that fact. George had to know there was a reason you never attempted to entertain the guys who would approach you in public or brush other friends’ advances off time and time again.

It wasn’t as if he was oblivious to the looks you shot him and the girls he would lean in close to, the tenseness of your body every time his lips brushed against their ear as he spoke lowly to them. He always made sure to catch your eye at some point during it, a smirk playing on his lip.

Even if he wasn’t aware of the feelings you were drowning in, he knew about the jealousy that leaked from every crevice of your body.

In his eyes though, it wasn’t a big deal. Just a little something extra to get you angry before you ended up in his bed before the sun rose. Liquor from hours ago on your lips, George’s hands fumbling with his keys and into his apartment every time without fail, no matter how upset you were with him.

As unhealthy as it was, it was the only thing that sated the ache in your chest when you looked at him. Those brief blips in time, where he called you his, and his kisses burned your flesh. Fleeting moments when your brain could convince itself that despite everything, your best friend loved you.

Looking over to him again, you were surprised to see umber eyes already watching you while the girl talked animatedly, leaning close to his ear with an eager grin on her red-painted lips. George leveled you with another grin, pulling the girl flush against him and her shrill laugh echoed through the air again.

Her long legs were over his, and ass practically in his lap at this point, dress sliding up her thighs. breaking the eye contact, your vision filled with red. Finishing the drink you had been nursing, you set the glass down roughly onto the table, wincing at the noise.

The body next to you flinched at the noise and you could feel him turn towards you once more.

“Come dance with me, Wilbur,” you said, finally ready to speak. A look of hesitation crossed his face, glasses low on his nose before he adjusted them. “Please,” you added, one short step away from flat-out begging. Your expression must have held some of the grief simmering under the surface because he relented, sliding his hand into yours and pulling you into the crowd on the floor.

Bodies glide together all around you, drowning in the music as Wilbur placed his hands on your hips. Feeling his hands slide up and down your sides, fingers catching on the fabric of your dress, you brought yourself closer to him. Smiling up at him, you were caught mildly off guard by how good he looked in this light.

It wasn’t as if you had never noticed how attractive he was, it’s just that your eyes never bothered to stray beyond George. Maybe it wasn’t fair to Wilbur to slide your body against his, to give him the attention he’d relish for now, but regret later. But fairness wasn’t what was on your mind.

He leaned his head down slightly, face closer to yours and eyes flickering to your lips. Reaching up, your fingers sliding into the hair curling at his nape, you pulled him closer to you to meet him in a kiss.

You felt Wilbur gasp against your mouth, warm hands tightening around your waist before he quickly pulled away from you. His face was painted in shades of regret, cheeks tinged pink but his expression twisted into something somber.

“That shouldn't have happened,” Wilbur said, words falling into the air rapidly. He stepped back, looking towards the section where your group was still sitting.

“Why not, Wil?” You asked weakly, already knowing the answer to the question. Even now, with George occupied, and you on the dance floor, he still managed to ruin your chances with others. It was as if there was an invisible boundary between you and anyone else you had managed to get close to, it seemed.

“I don’t exactly fancy getting killed by your not-boyfriend. Plus, he’s my friend, the same as you. Maybe one day if you lot sort your shit and let each other go, but for now it’s a mess I don’t want to be involved in.” His voice was firm as it carried to you, and there was no arguing with what he said. You nodded, mostly to yourself, before walking with him.

Elation filled you at the absence of the blonde thorn in George’s side, the seat near him finally vacant, but it was muffled by the look on his face paired with a clenched jaw. Mouth curled into a sneer, and his body tense, his gaze was scathing as it scraped over the two of you at your arrival.

“You two enjoy yourself out there?” George questioned, voice dripping in something that sounded a lot like contempt. The void in your stomach slowly returned, but this time irritation wove itself into the aches that had long since occupied you.

“About as much as you enjoyed yourself on this couch. Where’d your friend go, hm?” You spat back at him. Wilbur sighed from behind you, murmurs about getting a drink reached your ears as he retreated and you felt a pang of pity for him. He hadn’t wanted to get involved, and yet he still was in a way.

A cold grin played on the brunette’s lips as he pushed himself off the seat, closing the distance between you rather quickly. Leaning in so his face was near your ear, you shivered as he spoke, his voice low.

“Aw, you poor thing. Were you jealous?” He teased, breath fanning against your neck. “Did you want to be the one next to me, fawning over me?” Heat clashed with anger, with all your sorrows nearly forgotten, but you pushed it away as fast as you put distance between the two of you, backing away.

“Fuck off,” you scoffed, words bitter on your tongue. “If she was fawning so hard, where is she now? Did you get sick of her, or did she get tired of you?” At your question, the smile carved into his mouth slowly slipped from its place, expression hardening once more.

George’s eyes flitted between you and the bar so quickly you nearly missed it, and things slowly started to piece themselves together. He had seen the kiss between you and Wilbur.

Quickly, shame started to fill you. Considering how George had been acting a short while ago it wasn’t warranted, but guilt always seemed to swallow you whole for even thinking about men other than him. And now you had just pressed your lips to someone else’s, something he was clearly upset with you about. Something he had no right to be mad about.

In a blur of colors, you were being pulled into the crowd once more, the movements mirrored that of earlier. Except, this time instead of being painted by neon lights with a hand in yours, and eager for a diversion, you had a hand gripping your forearm, yanking you towards the back of the club.

The creaking of a door and your back meeting marble, your head whirled at the fact that he dragged you to the bathroom of all places, and had caged you in against the sink.

Arms on either side of you, trapping you, angry words left his mouth immediately. “What the fuck were you thinking?” George’s voice got louder with each statement, and your eyes widened. You had never seen him this angry before. “I don’t pay you any mind for a short while, and then you turn around and whore yourself off to our friend?”

“Don’t fucking call me a whore,” you snapped back, hurt at his words. You reached up, moving to push him away, but he didn’t budge. He grabbed your hands from where they were on his chest, holding your wrists as he stepped closer to you.

"Well then you shouldn't have been acting like one,” George said, eyes narrowed as he looked at you. Letting go of your wrists, he leaned down slightly, moving to lift you onto the counter, the marble cool against your thighs. Confusion filled you as you watched his chest rising rapidly, wondering why he had done so until you felt it.

"Are you really hard right now, George?" You asked, mouth falling into a look of disbelief. Of all times for him to get horny, his body chose your first argument.

"Shut the fuck up," he groaned, sounding annoyed, and yet his body displayed very contrasting feelings. He slowly started to grind against you, denim against your clothed heat. Warmth traveled through your abdomen, and your breath hitched at each drag against you.

Eyes fluttering shut, you felt your thighs tense as he slid his palms along them, hands pushing the hem of your dress up. Trails of fire seemed to stay in their wake, your skin burning with every touch.

With the fabric bunched up, your panties were exposed for him and he wasted no time in pressing his fingers against them, and a quiet noise leaves your lips at the contact. Your thighs part further and George lets out a scoff, eyes meeting yours.

“See what I mean? You were just angry, but look how quickly you spread your legs for me. A whore through and through,” he hissed, moving his hand to pull your underwear to the side. He didn’t maintain his stare for long, eyes quickly diverting to watching how desperate your body was getting for his hands on you.

His touch slowly filled the cracks that have been appearing all night, slapping bandaids over every minor break that spread from his flirtations. Emotion surged in your chest, eyes welling at the mixture of overwhelming emotion and desperation for his hands on you. In an effort to hide this, you reached up to wrap your arms around his neck and pulled him in for a kiss.

Soft moans and whimpers are smothered by his lips on yours, your hips grinding up against his hand. A brush of your clit here, and rough curling of his fingers there, he had you nearly coming undone with the sound of the music slipping under the door only a few footsteps away. Kissing wasn’t an occurrence so uncommon between the two of you, nearly always initiated by you, but he always seemed to return them with haste.

Regretfully, they never strayed beyond your lips, mouth never going to leave plum marks along your body, nor you with his.

Withdrawing his fingers abruptly, you watched with bated breath as he licked the remnants of your wetness from his digits, tongue pink against the flesh, and he quickly unbuttoned his jeans. As his cock slid out of its confines, you leaned forward, pulling him closer to you by his hips.

Reaching down, George guided himself to your entrance, sliding the tip of his member against you. He let out a low groan as he felt his head slip against you, before slowly letting himself sink into your pussy.

The pleasure was evident in the air and on your bodies, noises spilling from the two of you. The feeling of his cock sliding in and out of you made your heart clench, and once again you longed for his mouth on yours, but it was occupied with spilling filth at the feeling of you around him.

“Shit, you feel so good. You’re so tight around me, baby, and taking me so well,” George groaned, accompanied by the feeling of his hands gripping the back of your thighs. His voice was hoarse as he continued to spit words at you, groans interrupting each of his statements.

“You’re literally so wet, fucking slut. I can’t believe you’re letting me fuck you here.”

The emotions of the night had left you strung out, your body’s tension begging to be released. And you knew with the rate he was fucking into you, he wouldn’t last long either.

It was a desperate action, the casual fucking between you was something the both of you had considered normalcy for months now. It was something that he was seeking, thrown off by the events of earlier, and so he’d pursue it between your thighs wherever he’d care to. And you let him.

Part of you wanted to be embarrassed, but the feeling of him filling you up distracted you from the impending mortification. The other part of you knew that no matter how mad you had been with George before, you would have given in to any chance of having him close to you like this, body pressed against you and fucking you as he would a real lover.

He let go of one of your thighs, the freehand traveling up to rub at your clit and your eyes fluttered shut. He swore once again as you clenched around you, moans increasing in volume as you got closer.

“Shit, shit, shit George. I’m getting close, wanna cum,” you said, voice cracking. You were overcome with pleasure, but your chest still ached with the knowledge that this would be finished soon, and that it would go back to normal. Just friends, just you and George.

He leaned down, forehead pressed against yours as his hips worked faster. “Mm, I think I am too. Cum with me?” He asked. His words were airy, breath fanning against your face and lips so close to yours. You nodded against him, panting as you felt the hand still gripping you tighten, and that voice in the back of your head was pleading for him to leave mulberry bruises, reminders that this happened.

Finally opening your eyes again, you were met with him already looking at you, watching you get one step from falling apart. His expression softened when your eyes met, and for the second time, your lips met with an urgency that wasn’t there earlier, but this time, he caused it.

Elation filled your chest but was quickly overtaken by the cascading force of your orgasm flowing over you, thighs trembling against him as you moaned into his mouth and he pulled out shortly after.

An involuntary whine at the loss of fullness left you as he pulled away, and you watched as he slid his hand up and down his cock rapidly. His moans rose as he swiped his thumb across the tip of his cock, his hips stuttered as he finished. Cum spilling all over his hand, a string of soft curses leaving him at the feeling.

You slumped against the wall, trying to catch your breath as you watched him scramble for tissues or paper towels to clean off his hand before he could use the sink. It was like this that you liked him best,

His cheeks were a blushing red, face flushed and his brown hair disheveled. Butterflies seemed to fill you whenever you got to see him like the, something so intimate and yours. For now, at least. The feelings from earlier were back. Your moment was over and it would go back to how it usually was. Suddenly, butterflies morphed into wasps.

A realization had been creeping onto you the last few times you had hooked up. You were aware that for the sake of your heart, you couldn’t do this anymore, no matter how much your heart shattered at the thought of never getting to experience him like this again, heart twinging at the loss of false intimacy.

But you couldn’t watch him parade women around you and you also wouldn’t just shove your feelings down for his sake. Just as you parted your mouth to bring it up, hesitation coating your tongue, he broached the topic from earlier first.

“I still can’t believe you kissed Wilbur,” George muttered, words tinged with annoyance as he rinsed his hands off in the basin next to you. His eyes were trained on the task in front of him and his shoulders were tense again as he shook the water off after. Droplets landed on your thighs from the proximity and you winced.

“Are you serious right now? That’s the first thing you say after you fuck me,” your tone was sharp as you responded, but you couldn’t help it. You both indulged in each other, and of course, you had been planning on broaching the subject again, but having him initiate it, and like this specifically made your stomach twist.

“Now is better than later. Better to get it off my chest when it’s still relevant. My point from earlier still stands: You shouldn’t have done it.” With each word, you could feel yourself getting more and more exasperated. You hadn’t even cleaned up yet and he’s already going at you, his frustrations clearly not worked out even a slight bit.

“And maybe you shouldn’t have been flirting with that girl. My point on all of that still stands along with everything I said before, fucking hypocrite,” you spat out, sliding off the counter. Your legs wobbled as you stepped towards the paper towels, feet unsteady as you used them to clean yourself off. Throwing them away, you glared up at him, your mood worsened by the fact that he wouldn’t look at you still.

“Those girls still don’t matter right now. Wilbur was the topic and the fact is that friends are off-limits while we’re fucking around? Or that fucking other people as a whole is? We set up these boundaries ages ago!” His words were acidic, each one punctuated with a rise in volume.

Mouth open with disbelief, a laugh escaped you. “You didn’t think friends were off-limits when you fucked me for the first time, hm? When our friend group would rather not have any messy breakups or situations to deal with and we all agreed it would be in the best interest of everyone for things to stay completely platonic-”

“That’s completely different and not what I meant at all, you literally know that. I’m talking about that fucking moment you had with my best friend out there,” George cut you off, words crashing down over you.

“Oh is it? Either way, you didn’t seem too concerned about these boundaries tonight, or any other time we go out as a group.” Your voice was slowly rising, matching his.

“I never do anything with any of them. You kissed him,” he stated, finally looking at you, disgust present on his face. The audacity that he had right now, especially after what just happened between the two of you.

“Kiss or not, if I had even just danced with him, you’d be acting the same right now! How are you allowed to be upset, but I can’t bring up you being a hypocrite? Wow, ok, George.” You threw your hands up in exasperation, already regretting coming to the club tonight as a whole.

“You don’t get it, but whatever,” he rolled his eyes at you. “This conversation isn’t even supposed to be about me, it’s about what you did. Why do you keep bringing up my behavior?”

“I’m bringing it up because I feel like you always do this!” You exclaimed, mind racing, and tears welling from frustration. “You try to scare off any man who comes near me, or act territorial whenever I give anyone too much attention, but then let girls fawn all over you or touch you. You clearly see my reactions and ignore them, but turn around and act as if you own me. Why are you held to different standards than me?”

“Oh, so I shouldn’t ever be allowed to flirt with other people? We aren’t dating, and I’m actually not your little boyfriend. So I’ll ask once again, why the hell do you care?” George seethed, stepping closer to you once more.

“Are you even hearing anything I’m saying? You’re being hypocritical. Also, you love to bring up not being my boyfriend, but then why do you act like one then? You ask why I care so much right now, but maybe you should figure out why you care too.”

Letting out a sigh, you watch as he shakes his head, and silence meets the air.

“I can’t do this anymore,” you say, saltwater tracks trailing down your cheeks. He tenses up at your words, umber eyes boring into your tearful ones.

“What do you mean by that?” His words are suddenly soft, all anger from before replaced by something new.

“This whole thing. This complicated shit that we have going on-” You start to explain, but George cuts you off, backing away from you as he does.

“I don’t wanna talk about this anymore. At least not right now.” Tone bland, and gaze now downturned, he starts to move towards the door. Panic filled you at the thought of him leaving now, especially when you finally had the nerve to tell him everything. Your feelings, how he made you feel, but he was running away.

“I’m serious George,” your words are strained as they try to reach him, voice thick with emotion, but he doesn’t turn around as his hand wraps around the door handle.

“Get a ride from Wilbur or something. I’ll call you.”

And then you were alone.

i wish that heaven had visiting hours

so i could just show up and bring the news

Clay's phone pings with a notification, his phone lighting up.

It's a stark contrast to the dark room around him.

He lazily rolls over, tapping the screen to attempt to read the message.

It's from his mom.

Morning, sweetheart. Call me when you are up, please. Love you.

He lets out a little exhale before turning his phone over and ignoring the message.

He knows why she's reaching out this early.

A soft crying tears him from his train of thought.

He pulls himself out of bed towards the room across the hall.

"Morning, sweetie.", he picks up his daughter out of her crib, swaying lightly to soothe her.

It's her first birthday today.

However, it's not the only significance this day holds.

that she's getting older and i wish that you'd meet her

Sapnap is already waiting in the kitchen, mini pancakes piled on a plate on the highchair.

"For the birthday girl.", he takes the toddler from Clay's arms, setting her down in the seat.

Clay just blankly nods, watching as Sapnap puts a few pancakes in front of her.

His daughter immediately digs in, a delighted giggle passing through her lips as she takes a bite of the first pancake held in her fist.

Sapnap takes a few pictures like the proud uncle he is before situating himself onto the stool next to Clay.

"How're you holding up so far?"

It takes a minute for him to process the question.

Clay just shrugs, not wanting to ruin the day so far.

It feels wrong celebrating this day without you.

You're not here to celebrate her first birthday, so why should he?

"I think the guys' flight will land soon. I'll take her with me to pick them up if you want.", Sapnap offers.

Clay just nods, still blankly staring at the plate of pancakes Sapnap had pushed in front of him.

the things that she'll learn from me

i got them all from you

"Dada.", his daughter babbles, holding out a pancake.

Clay smiles, leaning forward to take a small bite of the pancake she's holding out towards him.

"Thank you.", he forces a smile, swallowing the tiny bite.

It feels like a rock going down his throat.

"I'll take her to go pick up the cake too, unless you wanted to go?", Sapnap offers, keeping his voice soft.

"Go ahead.", Clay waves him off, watching as Sapnap picks her up and carries her towards the door.

As soon as they leave, he retreats to his bedroom once again.

His safe place.

can i just stay a while? and we'll put all the world to rights

the little ones will grow and i'll still drink your favorite [drink]

A picture of the two of you sits on his nightstand.

It's from your first date together.

He had taken you on a picnic, the two of you sharing a meal while talking about anything and everything either of you could think of.

He still remembers the drink and the meal you had both shared, and he knows he hasn't had them since.

Maybe today would be a good start.

Maybe there's a way to celebrate you and his daughter at the same time.

As he gazes closely at the photo, he feels his chest contort as the feeling of loss overcomes him.

He just wants five more minutes with you.

Even one minute would suffice.

and soon they're going to close, but i'll see you another day

so much has changed since you've been away

He'd even take thirty seconds, just to see your face again.

It doesn't seem like it's been a year.

Your daughter has taken her first steps already.

She knows "dada", "goodbye", "hi" and her favorite "kitty."

Clay knows how much you'd love seeing Patches and your daughter interact.

His three favorite girls, but he'll never see them in the same room.

The thought makes his stomach turn, a wave of nausea rolling over him.

He has to see you.

i wish that heaven had visiting hours

so i could just swing by and ask your advice

The scenery is a blur as he drives, his foot definitely pressing down too hard on the gas pedal.

He pulls into the familiar driveway, driving through a tunnel of trees until a variety of stones begin dotting the horizon.

Pulling the car off to the left, he takes a deep breath before getting out of his car.

Clay takes a blanket out of the backseat, tucking it under his arm as he begins the short walk to his desired destination.

The headstone enters his view quickly.

It's been a minute since he has walked this path.

The sight of your name engraved on the marble makes his heart pound.

Talking to you always makes his heart pound.

Something always tells him that you're near even though he can't actually see you.

"y/n, I need your advice right now. You always know the right thing to say."

what would you do in my situation? i haven't a clue how i'd even raise them

Clay isn't sure why he never uses past tense when referring to you.

Maybe it's the thought that you're not actually gone.

You're not here anymore, but he couldn't completely get rid of you if he wanted to.

Your daughter is the best example of this.

So many things she does and says reflect you and purely you.

She's more like her mother than he wishes.

It would be easier on him if she was more like him in every aspect, but it is almost the exact opposite.

"What would you do if you were me? I feel like I'm lost. I don't know how to raise a kid on my own, y/n. I feel like I'm letting her down. An-and... I feel like I'm letting you down."

Admitting it takes a weight off of his shoulders.

He doesn't wipe away the tears that start streaming down his cheeks; you always encouraged him to be more open and expressive with his emotions.

You always hated it when he shut down, so he worked on that, just for you.

Even though you're not physically with him, he'll still do as you wished.

You made him a better person, and he wants to stay that way.

For you.

what would you do?

'cause you always do what's right

Clay fondly remembers seeing you interact with his family.

All of his siblings absolutely adored you, and you never let on if you didn't enjoy their company.

He remembers when his aunt gave birth and watching you hold the baby.

It's an image he reverts to constantly, and he wishes he could've seen you hold your daughter.

Though you never got the opportunity, he knows you would've soaked up every opportunity with her.

Sometimes when she cries at night, he imagines walking into her nursery and seeing you standing with her in your arms.

Watching you sway back and forth, softly singing a lullaby under your breath.

He craves it.

Knowing his craving will never be fulfilled hurts him.

It's like a deep wound that will never heal.

You would know better how to raise your daughter.

Clay feels like he's trying to walk through a sandstorm.

He feels fully lost and confused about everything.

Sapnap helps with grounding him, but he can't completely take the pain away.

Clay wants you back.

He'd give anything to have you back.

can we just talk a while until my worries disappear?

i'd tell you that i'm scared of turning out a failure

He wishes you could reassure him like you always used to.

"You're in your own head again."

"I'm not going anywhere. You'll always have me in your corner."

"You're doing everything right. Just keep going."

The words in his head echo.

They sound louder than normal, like you're whispering them into his ear.

He can still hear you saying them.

You'd know he might be feeling discouraged, like a failure.

You'd be right there with reassuring kisses and cuddles.

You always knew how to make him feel better in no time, and he misses it.

He misses having a rough day and practically tackling you onto the bed to plop on top of you.

He misses the feeling of your fingers running through his hair.

The feeling of you pressing soft kisses to his temple.

He misses the feeling of you.

[s]he'd say, "remember that the answer's in the love that we create"

so much has changed since you've been away

Clay drives home after a text from Sapnap that his friends are on their way.

There's quite a few that have flown in to celebrate his daughter's birthday, and he knows he shouldn't disappoint them.

Besides, you'd be happy to see him with his friends.

You know you'd say that you're happy when he's happy.

George, Wilbur, Tommy, Tubbo, and all the rest will definitely assist in lifting his spirits.

He knows you'd say something like "remember the answer's in the love that we create."

You had said that on one of your earlier dates because he was talking about his past loves, and you were astonished he hadn't included any of his friends.

"The love for your friends and your past girlfriends might be different kinds of love, but they are both still love."

i wish that heaven had visiting hours

and i would ask them if i could take you home

Watching his friends from all walks of life interact with his daughter makes Clay smile.

Tommy tries to keep her all for himself, leading to some hilarious arguments.

Tubbo is super sweet with her, playing little games with her to keep her occupied.

Clay stands towards the back and watches the party unfold before him.

He'd love to climb the stairs to heaven and bring you back down with him.

He would plead with any angel or god or anything to bring you back down to Earth with him.

Just long enough for you to see your daughter and to tell you that he loves you.

but i know what they'd say, that it's for the best

so i would live life the way you taught me

and make it on my own

As the time for her first piece of cake approaches, a sudden sense of peace floods Clay's entire body.

It's like you're standing next to him, radiating a sense of serenity.

He watches his daughter work on smashing a little cake they had gotten just for her, a big 1 decorating the top.

For the first time today, he smiles.

It's like all the sadness has been eradicated from him for the day.

He almost feels like he can be happy now.

There's like a little signal from you that he should move on.

Like he should be happy for you.

He might not be able to be happy with you, but he can be happy because of you and for you.

He can do it for you.

i will close the door, but i will open up my heart

and everyone i love will know exactly who you are

He's filled with a sudden rush of spirit and taps a fork against the glass in his hand.

"Can I have everyone's attention please?", he calls.

All of the eyes in the room land on him.

"I'm very happy to see you all here today. This day is a mix of emotions for me. Obviously we're all here to celebrate my daughter's first birthday, but it's also been one year since y/n passed away. A couple of you knew her well while others only knew her from the stories I told. She was the sweetest human that has ever existed, and I'm very happy to be able to celebrate our daughter on this day."

He has to take a minute as to not choke up too much so he can be able to finish his little speech.

"I'm glad you're all here with me today. I'm so happy to call you all friends, and I'm glad we can all share in the love today."

He glances around the room, not a dry eye around him.

"Um, thank you.", he clears his throat and takes a swig of the drink in his hand.

The room applauds for him, and he is intercepted into a big hug by Sapnap.

"She'd be so proud of you, Clay."

'cause this is not goodbye, it is just 'til we meet again

so much has changed since you've been away

As they're winding down for bed, Clay sets his daughter in his lap with his phone in his hand.

They're sitting in the rocking chair, something you had insisted on adding to the nursery.

"I want to show you something special because you're one today. I thought we could start looking at pictures I have of me and mama, and I could tell you the story behind it.", he murmurs as he rocks from heel to toe, the chair following the motions of his feet.

The little girl lets out a little squeal at the picture he pulls up first.

"This is a really special one.", he whispers, the picture being the same one he had been staring at earlier.

He zooms in a bit so she can see both of your faces better.