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vivwritesfics · 1 year ago

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10 Things I Hate About You

Sirius Black x Evans!Reader

Lily Evans isn't allowed to date. Not until her big sister does. At least, James Potter thinks so. What better way to rectify this than to get Sirius to date her. That shouldn't be hard, right?

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Lily Evans was not allowed to date. At least that was what James believed. He believed the reason she wouldn't date him was because of her sister.

Her crazy twin sister who was a loner freak. She was pretty, sure. Just as pretty as Lily. But she was abrupt, aggressive and, quite frankly, scared most people off. She was unashamed in voicing her opinions, not giving a crap on what anybody thought.

Lily Evans wasn't allowed to date because Y/N Evans wasn't dating. It wasn't a jealousy thing, it was a protective older sister thing.

"You don't need to waste you time on the guys at this school, Lils. You should just be focusing on your studies and getting the best grades you can," she said as she sat, stretched out on the couch in the Gryffindor common room, book open in her lap.

Lily let out a huff and returned to her homework. She knew there was no point arguing with her sister. And, it wasn't even like she wanted to date anybody, it just would have been nice to have the option. Especially when James Potter ramped up the flirting.

James Potter. He stared at her across any room they were both in. Pranks had gone wrong because he was too busy staring at Lily.

He'd asked her out several times. But her answer was always the same. She always turned him down and blamed Y/N.

So, James had to come up with a solution. He liked Evans, so damn much, he just had to get her sister out of the way.

Moony would never go for it. He was already sort of friends with Y/N. Academic rivals who had found friendship. They compared homework, attempting to correct each other. Which worked out great for James, Sirius and Peter.

Peter. Y/N would never go for him. Especially not after she'd caught him peaking into the girls hanging room after quidditch practice.

That left James with one last friend: Sirius. And might have well as been perfect for the job.

Sirius accepted. If it finally got James with Evans, he'd do it. Plus, Y/N was a challenge. If he managed to date her, he'd hate dated the biggest bitch in Hogwarts.

Of course, Sirius had the impossible task of getting her to agree to go on a date with him first.

On Sirius' first attempt, he waited leaned against the wall beside the doorway into charms. It wasn't a class they shared, and Sirius only knew where she was because he'd asked Lily.

So, he'd skipped his own class and waited outside of hers.

The girls in Y/Ns year giggled and batted their eyelashes at Sirius as the walked past. He flashed that ever charming smile, but that was the only attention he was going to give them. They weren't the one he was looking for.

"Hey," Sirius said as Y/N walked past.

She spared him a single glance and kept walked, not answering him.

It was a good thing thing Sirius was a persistent person. He followed Y/N away from her classroom, towards Muggle studies. "You got muggle studies?" He asked.

Y/N snorted. "What do you think?" She mumbled. "Haven't you got any classes whatsoever?"

"I might," he replied, leaning against the wall.

Y/N finally turned to look at him. She wouldn't admit it, but she noticed it, noticed his rolled up sleeves, his loose tie, the way he wasn't wearing his robes.

Sirius Black was undeniably attractive, sure, but Y/N wasn't looking to date. And good facial features weren't the only thing that mattered to her. So far, Sirius was all aesthetically pleasing facial features.

"I might want to stay here and walk to you."

Y/N scoffed and walked into Muggle Studies, leaving Sirius where he was.

***

"I'm telling you, James, she doesn't want me. She wants nothing to do with me," Sirius said as they lounged around in the common room.

James shook his head. "Come one, Padfoot. Every girl wants you, so why doesn't she?"

Before this whole ordeal, Sirius had wanted Y/N, but it was in the same way he wanted every girl. It meant nothing and the feeling would pass as soon as something had happened between them. But the more she rejected him, the more he wanted her.

So, with the help of Remus, the boys devised a plan. They were going to throw a party in the common room. And if Y/N and Lily came, and Lily saw Y/N with Sirius, maybe James might have a chance.

They spent the afternoon preparing everything, getting records together and sneaking alcohol into the grounds. Using the tunnel that led to the shrieking shack, Sirius and Remus managed to get to Hogsmeade. From there it was easy enough to by something to drink and get it back to the castle.

By the time the Gryffindors got back from dinner, the boys had the party in full swing. All that was missing was people.

It didn't take much to convince people to join their party. First, second, third and fourth years were ushered up to bed, since the marauders didn't want to be responsible for a bunch of drunk Fourteen year olds.

It was Peters job to make sure they stayed upstairs while everybody else partied. Sirius' job was handing out the drinks and Remus' job was to keep things rolling while James flirted with Lily.

Y/N was one of the last to make it back from dinner. Her sister had gotten to the common room first, and was already sat on the couch beside Marlene McKinnon, drink in hand.

Once Y/N walked into the common room, she scoffed and went to make her way up to her bedroom.

But Sirius caught her, getting in her way and handing her a drink. "Stay for a while," he said over the music and the chatter. "Have some fun with your housemates."

"I'm busy," said Y/N as she stared at him.

Sirius insisted, pushing the drink into her hand. "One drink, that's all I ask," he said. "Just one drink."

Reluctantly, Y/N took it. But one drink turned onto two, and two drinks turned into three. Soon Y/N was dancing on the table to the Queen records Sirius had put on.

Other students gathered around, laughing and watching as she danced. But Sirius could see it, see her slipping and falling from the table. So, he strode over, pushing his way passed the other Gryffindors, who let him pass without protest, and grabbed a hold of Y/Ns hands.

"Let's get you some air," he called over the noise.

"But I'm having fun!" Y/N shouted back, throwing her head back as she swayed from side to side. "Isn't this what you wanted?"

Sirius practically pulled her from the table. He wrapped his arms around her, leading her out of the common room.

Sneaking through the halls of the castle was hard enough on a full moon. But, with a drunk Y/N Evans clutching onto his arm, it was damn near impossible.

Sirius hid her in an alcove with him, holding his fingers to her lips as Slughorn came past. Y/N let out a giggle and licked Sirius's finger, but he quickly placed his hand over her mouth.

Once Slughorn was gone, it was easy enough to get Y/N outside. Sirius walked her down to the Black Lake, sitting her down against a tree. "How are you feeling?" He asked, sitting down beside her.

Y/N let her head fall against his shoulder. "My head feels fuzzy," she complained, shutting her eyes.

"That's because you've had too much to drink." Sirius pulled a carton of cigarettes from his pocket and pulled one out. He put one between his lips and lit it.

As soon as Sirius took the first puff, Y/N reached for the cancer stick. He gently batted her hand away, wrapped his arms around his shoulders. "You'll throw up if you smoke this," he said and Y/N just nodded his head.

***

She didn't want to talk about it.

Some Gryffindors laughed as they passed her in the hall, but Y/N's harsh glare was enough to shut them up.

She hid herself away in the library, in the darkest corner as she read through books. For one she wasn't studying, reading for the pleasure of it.

When somebody walked towards her, Y/N turned away.

When Sirius Black walked towards her, Y/N scoffed and shoved her nose deeper into her book. If there was one person she didn't want to talk to, it was the person that got her drunk.

He sat opposite her, drumming his black nails against the desk. "How you feeling today?" He asked, using his finger to lower Y/N's book.

She glared and lifted it back up. "Go away, Sirius."

"I'll go away," Sirius replied, "If you go to Hogsmeade with me."

Again, Y/N scoffed. But this time she stood up and walked away from him. She checked her book out of the library and strode out, all while Sirius watched her go.

Goddamn he wanted her.

He needed Remus's help.

Sirius met his friend in the Gryffindor common room. "We need to do something," he said as he paced in front of the fire place.

Remus was sat back, looking cool, calm and collected. Of course he was, he had virtually no part in this whole Lily and Y/N plan. "Do you think it's really fair that you're chasing her just so that James can date her sister?"

Stopping his pacing, Sirius stared at his friend. He wanted Y/N Evans and he wanted her bad.

Remus let out a sigh. "Have you ever noticed that she's always reading these romance novels?"

"So?"

"You'll need to do some sort of gesture, something big and romantic," Remus replied, running his hands through his hair.

Some big, romantic gesture, huh? Sirius could do that.

***

Y/N had never received a howler before. Never, not in her entire life. With her parents being Muggles, they didn't know how to send them. So, when the owl dropped the red envelope into Y/N's lap, her sister stared at her. "Who on earth sent you that?" Asked Lily as Y/N picked it up.

She shrugged her shoulders and unsealed it. Immediately, the red envelope and letter inside became a mouth. A mouth that started singing. "Oh my god," Y/N mumbled, hiding her face from everybody else in the great hall, eating their breakfasts. She'd never been this embarrassed in her life, not even when she'd gotten incredibly drunk last week.

The Howler sang Good Old-Fashioned Lover Boy by Queen as Sirius came and sat opposite her, smirking with his ring covered hands clasped together. "This is from you, isn't it?" Y/N asked over the singing.

Instead of answering, Sirius climbed up onto the table. He sang along with the howler, kicking dishes of food away from the table. And, when the song was over, he held out his hands towards her. "Y/N Evans, will you go out with me?"

The embarrassment had turned into laughter. As embarrassing as it was, Y/N loved it. It was amazing. It was the most Sirius Black thing in the world.

But Y/N didn't get to answer him, not when Professor McGonagall came striding towards him and pulled him from the table. He waved at Y/N as he was dragged away to detention.

"What on earth," Lily muttered, shaking her head as Y/N stood up from the table.

"I don't know, Lils," Y/N said and ran office.

She knew exactly where to find Sirius. McGonagall had him in her office, writing line while she watched over him.

Y/N knocked on the door and waited for McGonagall to let her in. When she shouted, Y/N strode into the office. "Hey, Professor. As a Muggleborn student, I have some questions," she said and walked over to the window, pulling McGonagall's attention away from Sirius.

It took Sirius a moment to catch on. So, Y/N kept talking, kept holding McGonagall questions. "So, do how do Muggleborn students come to be?" She asked.

Sirius's eyes went wide. He stood carefully pushing his chair back while McGonagall was turned around.

But she went to turn back. "Like, do I have a magical family member from a few generations ago?" She asked as Sirius tiptoed towards the door. "And, how come Lily and I are both magic but our sister isn't?"

"I'm sorry, Miss Evans," McGonagall said, keeping her eyes on her as Sirius made it out of the door. Y/N got herself ready to run. "But I don't have time for this right now. Can't you see I'm busy?"

"You're right, Professor. I'm sorry," Y/N said and swiftly walked out of the office.

She got away quickly, before McGonagall could call her back and ask about Sirius's whereabouts. Y/N wasn't sure, anyway. Sirius was long gone by the time she got out of the office.

Suddenly, Sirius appeared out of nowhere. He strode forward and tapped Y/N on the shoulder. She turned quickly, ready to tackle her attacker, but when she saw Sirius, she relaxed. She went to say something, but he beat her to it. "Meet me on the astronomy tower later," he said and walked off again.

***

James walked towards Lily and placed his arms around her shoulders. "Word on the street is your sister is seeing Sirius," he said as they walked.

Lily didn't remove his arm, but she didn't give him the time of day, either. She just kept walking, as though James wasn't there. "So, now that your sister is dating, how about I take you on a date?"

"A date, James, really?" Lily asked, finally pushing his hand away.

James nodded his head. "If Y/N is dating, why can't you?"

Letting out a huff, Lily turned to face him. "Okay, if I go on one date with you, will you finally leave me alone?" She asked and James nodded.

One date. All he needed was one date.

***

Y/N made her way up to the astronomy tower. She was dressed in a simple pair of jeans and a knitted sweater, keeping herself warm as she walked through the castle.

Sirius was already up the astronomy tower, a picnic set up in front of him. He had the blanket, the basket, a candle surrounded by food. It was simple food, sandwiches and snacks.

"Wow," Y/N whispered as she walked over to him.

Sirius grinned and spread his arms. "Surprise," he said and sat on one side of the blanket, gesturing for Y/N to sit opposite him.

She took her seat and Sirius passed her a biscuit. "So, what is the deal with James and my sister?" She asked as she leaned back, looking across the castle grounds.

Sirius shook his head. "He really likes her," he said and ran his fingers through his hair.

Y/N let out a snort. "I think the whole school knows that."

"No, I think the whole school knows that I like you," Sirius muttered with a smirk.

They spoke the whole evening long. Even once the food had been eaten and they were comfortably full, Y/N and Sirius stayed where they were, talking about their lives. Y/N learned about his home life and just how shitty it was. She told him about being Muggleborn and how spiteful her sister was.

They were sat beside each other, Y/N leaning against him as he watched the stars. "So, why don't you date?" Sirius asked her. "You're gorgeous, I know so many guys that would be so happy to be in my position right now, so why am I the lucky guy?"

Y/N shrugged her shoulders. "I've just always wanted to be more focused on my studies," she said.

Suddenly Sirius placed his finger under chin and tipped her towards him. He kissed her, slowly gently, eyes closed as his lips moved against hers. He tasted of smoke and mint, the taste intoxicating. Y/N couldn't get enough.

She ran his fingers through his hair, scratching at his scalp. Sirius let out a whine and pulled away, resting his forehead against hers. He couldn't stop the smile crossing his face as they just sat there.

There were footsteps, making their way up towards them. Y/N and Sirius pulled away to look at who was approaching.

"Lily," Y/N said as she stood, moving away from Sirius. "What're you doing up here?"

And then James appeared behind her. He grinned when he saw the two of them, both of them breathless. "Thanks, mate," he said as he and Lily came up the stairs.

Y/N stared at Sirius. "What does he mean?" She asked, picking up her things. "Sirius, what does he mean by that?"

"Y/N, listen, you've got to understand-"

But that was enough for her. Y/N turned on her heel and walked away from him, running down the steps and back to the common room.

Sirius spent the next few weeks trying to speak to her. He waited outside of her classrooms and tried to corner her in the common room, but Y/N marched away from him, a furious look on her face.

She was furious. Furious that Sirius had just asked her out for James' benefit, furious that she had fallen for him.

She was hurt, incredibly hurt.

She hated the way she felt around, the way he made her heart flutter. She hated the way his gaze heated her cheeks, hated the way her hand felt in his. She hated the way he smelt like cigarettes, hated the way he tasted of smoke and mint, and hated the way she loved it. She hated that he'd taken her on her first ever date and hated the way she loved it. But, most of all, she hated the way she didn't hate him.

Y/N sat in the common room, reading her book. She was constantly looking around, making sure Sirius didn't appear in front of her.

Suddenly, a couple of books appeared on the table in front of her. They were held together by a piece of twine, held together in a neat bow. Beneath the bow was a small note, her name written on it. Y/N grabbed a hold of it and turned it around.

'Forgive me? - S'

Y/N looked across the common room, meeting his gave. She gave him a quick nod and went back to her book, a grin splitting across her face.

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tomriddleslove · 10 months ago

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Blood on Love’s altar.

✩Tom Riddle x Reader

Summary: Tom Riddle did not know he could grieve. But now? He’d give up everything to not feel it.

Warnings: Mentions of Death, Suicide, Self Mutilation (brief)

A/N: 🙂

Song: Dove - Antihoney

Antent - hope to see you again

“You ought to put that away before Professor Dumbledore sees.”

The very first words you spoke to Tom.

First year, 2 weeks into school. It was a Thursday afternoon, to be precise. It was during a transfiguration lesson. Tom had managed to nab a copy of Markov’s ‘A Guide to the Dark Arts’. It was a forbidden book, but one that had greatly intrigued him. He held it under the table, reading.

You nudged him and when he sent you a scowl you did not look away, rather speaking those very words.

“You ought to put that away before Professor Dumbledore sees.”

He just about manages to snap the book shut and shove it into his bag when Dumbledore walks past, the eclectic man giving the pair of you a once over before moving to the next desk.

The second time he spoke to you was in the library a few days later.

“Still sticking your nose in the restricted section?” You pry, sliding up behind him as he startles. He turns to face you, a look of annoyance on his face as he speaks.

"And what business is it of yours?" he retorted, his eyes narrowing.

“You’ve already quite the reputation. Lurking in the restricted section should taint that, no?” You hum.

Infuriating. Nosy. Intransigent.

-•-

“Morning Riddle.” You quip as you walk into potions, taking a seat next to him.

Second year, 3rd day back.

He looks at you but says no more, internally cursing you.

You work on a strengthening solution and accidentally drop a jar of bat spleens onto Tom’s bag.

He debates getting back at you for it, but he doesn’t.

Clumsy. Persistent. Agitating.

-•-

Third year, same scene, same setting.

"Still poking your nose where it doesn't belong?" you tease, sidling up to him with a mischievous grin.

Tom's annoyance flares, but there's a flicker of something else in his eyes, a begrudging amusement perhaps. "You never learn, do you?" he mutters, though there's less bite in his tone this time.

You laugh, the sound echoing through the potions classroom. "Where's the fun in following the rules?" you reply, settling into the seat beside him.

Tom's lips twitch into an almost imperceptible smile before he turns his attention back to the brewing cauldron. Your laugh isn’t awful, he supposes.

-•-

Fourth Year, Charms. The sun was particularly nice that day. It casts a lovely glow on your face.

Professor Trinfort announced a partner project, pairing students for a collaborative spellcasting assignment. As fate would have it, you found yourself paired with Tom Riddle.

You exchange a glance, nudging him lightly. "Looks like it's you and me," you say with a faint smile.

Tom nods, his expression less guarded than before. "Seems that way," he replies, his tone less curt than usual.

As the two of you work together, you notice a subtle shift in Tom's demeanour. He's more open to your suggestions and more willing to listen to your ideas. There’s a newfound ease between you, and you don’t say anything for fear of disturbing it. Tom has left one of his books on his desk again. Professor Trinfort was walking past and you quickly grabbed the book, hiding it underneath your bag. Tom notices and looks at you with an unreadable expression for a second.

Nosy. Irritating. Perhaps not too bad, though.

-•-

5th year. You’re not there. Your absence is noticeable in the first week. It’s suffocating in the second.

Tom finds himself searching for you in the corridors, and he cannot help but feel as though something is missing. He values the quiet he now has during lessons, but it’s not as rewarding as he thought it would be. There’s a nagging feeling in him that he can’t quite shake.

He learns very quickly that you’d been attacked on the first day of term and had been in the hospital wing for quite a while. He visits you whilst you’re sleeping. He stares at your weakened form, not moving. It’s odd, seeing you in such a state.

You wake the next morning to news of the perpetrators being withdrawn from school after they all woke up missing fingers. You somehow know who it is.

Tom does not visit you till you are asleep. When he does, he places your book by your bedside. He doesn’t let himself stay for too long, berating his foolishness as he leaves.

-•-

6th Year. Tensions are running high after the death of Myrtle Warren. You’re all to face your boggarts, and Tom notices how apprehensive you are. You chew at your bottom lip, leg bouncing up and down relentlessly.

He places his hand over your thigh, focusing ahead as you turn to look at him.

“It’s agitating.” He mutters, and he can tell how ridiculous it sounds. You suppress a smile and turn back to the front.

He can tell you’re a bit shaken up from the lesson, so he offers to study with you in the library during the evening. He meets you after dinner, spotting you in the far corner.

You’re wearing a black corduroy skirt—a white vest with lace trimmings and a baggy green cardigan. You’ve pinned your hair back with your wand, the end of your quill pressed to your lips as you work. You’re rather beautiful, he notices. He takes a seat next to you, ignoring the smile you beam as you work together.

Hours have passed and he hasn’t noticed, enjoying your company. He feels a weight on his shoulder and turns, realising you’ve fallen asleep. He huffs in annoyance but he does not move, a hand coming up to remove your glasses from your face as he carefully sets them down on the table. You wake up in your bed, your books neatly placed on your desk. You must have come back at some point, you think to yourself.

-•-

“Hey,” You hum, plopping down next to Tom on the frosty glass near the black lake.

“Morning.” He responds, not looking up from his book as he acknowledges you. You reach into your satchel, producing a small thermos flask. You transfigure a pebble into a cup and pour a glass of steaming cinnamon tea for Tom.

As you hand him the cup of cinnamon tea, Tom finally looks up from his book, a faint hint of surprise crossing his features at the unexpected gesture. He accepts the tea with a nod of thanks, taking a sip before setting it down beside him.

"Thank you," he says quietly, his voice softer than usual, a hint of warmth in his tone that catches you off guard.

You smile in response, a gentle warmth spreading through you at the sight of his rare display of gratitude. "You're welcome," you reply, “Cinnamon tea is my favourite comfort drink.” You add, and Tom finds himself storing that piece of information in the ever-growing folder in his brain labelled ‘you.’

-•-

7th Year. Tom is elected Head Boy. You’re a bit upset you didn’t get Head Girl, but you suppose you weren’t that extraordinary. Tom feels otherwise.

You still got awarded prefect and found yourself paired on patrols with Tom.

“Seems like the universe is set on keeping us together. You finally warming up to me Tom?” You tease, grinning lopsidedly as you both roam down the dark, empty hallways. He meets your gaze with a small smile of his own, a rare display of warmth that sends a flutter of excitement through you. "Perhaps," he replies cryptically, though the glint in his eyes betrays a hint of fondness that you can't help but return.

You continue to walk in silence for a bit more till you (stupidly) have an idea. Upon digging around in your pocket you find a Gorpin’s exploding powered parcels, a tiny thing about the size of an acorn that exploded colourful powder when thrown. With a small grin, you call Tom’s name, tossing the parcel at him. He turns around and meets your gaze for a second before he’s enveloped in a cloud of pastel blue.

You laugh at the sight, clutching your stomach as a string of giggles escape your lips. As the cloud slowly clears, a flicker of uncertainty crosses your mind, a sudden fear that perhaps you've overstepped some invisible boundary. Your smile fades, replaced by a furrow of worry as you open your mouth to apologize.

But before you can utter a word, something unexpected happens. Tom's lips quirk up into a small smile, and he’s chasing after you.

“Tom!” You laugh, the sweet sound echoing through the halls as you begin running away from him.

His laughter joins yours, his footsteps getting closer and closer as you turn a corner. Your lungs burn, laughter bubbling from within you when you’re suddenly swept upwards, two strong arms wrapping around your midsection.

“Got you. Gonna make you pay for this.” Tom says, an uncharacteristic smirk on his face as he practically hauls you over his shoulder.

“Wait, Tom!” You protest, a yelp escaping your lips as he begins running with you in his arms.

Your protests are ignored as you enter the prefect's bathroom, and the second his intentions are clear you laugh, whilst pleading. He shifts his hold on you so you're being carried almost bridal style, and he raises a brow as he looks down at you.

“Wait, Tom. It doesn’t have to be like this.” You plead, trying to free yourself from his gasp. A smile tugs at his lips as he hums, seeming to retreat for a second. But he then holds you tighter, and in two swift steps jumps straight into the baths (which was more like a pool), sending you both into the water. A small shriek escapes your lips, and as you resurface from the water, laughing and sputtering, you shoot Tom a mock-complaining look. "Tom, you're incorrigible," you exclaim, your laughter bubbling up between your words.

Tom chuckles, the sound resonating in the spacious bathroom as he treads water beside you. For a moment, his gaze lingers on you, admiring you.

"You're quite something, you know that?" he says softly, the words carrying a warmth that sends a shiver down your spine.

Before you can respond, he closes the distance between you, his lips meeting yours in a kiss. You all but melt into the kiss, a hand coming up to cup his face, resting in his drenched black curls as you sigh into his mouth.

“Tom…” You murmur.

He’s never heard a more beautiful sound.

It’s nearing a month till your final exams and you haven’t seen Tom for a few days. You venture up to his dorm, knocking on his door.

“Tom?” You call out softly, leaning against the door. “It’s me.”

There’s silence for a second, and then the door unlocks.

As the door creaks open, you find Tom sitting on his bed, looking pale and dishevelled. He coughs weakly, his gaze meeting yours with a hint of surprise before he quickly looks away.

"Hey," you say softly, stepping into the room and closing the door behind you. "I heard you've been under the weather. Thought I'd come to check on you."

Tom nods, his expression unreadable as he shifts uncomfortably on the bed. "Yeah, just a bit under the weather," he mutters, his voice hoarse.

You frown, concern creasing your brow as you move closer to him. "You should be resting," you say gently, reaching out to feel his forehead for signs of fever.

Tom flinches slightly at your touch, but he doesn't pull away. Instead, he meets your gaze with a hint of vulnerability in his eyes. "I know," he admits quietly, "but I hate feeling like this. It's... frustrating."

You nod in understanding, your heart aching at the sight of him looking so uncharacteristically vulnerable. "I brought you some cinnamon tea," you say, pulling a thermos flask and a few biscuits from your bag. "Thought it might help."

Tom's lips quirk up into a small smile at your thoughtful gesture, a hint of gratitude shining through his usual stoicism. "Thank you," he murmurs, his voice softer than usual.

You smile back, and Tom shuffles over to give you some space. You take a seat next to him, crossing your legs as you pour him a cup of tea. You blow on the tea to cool it slightly, taking an experimental sip to ensure it’s not too hot. When you're satisfied with the temperature, you hand the cup over to Tom. He twists it around to make sure his lips touch the same part of the cup yours did. It faintly tastes of cherry lip balm.

You don’t notice the gesture.

You lean back against the headboard, legs outstretched in front of you as you stare up at his ceiling.

“You should go. You’ll get sick.” Tom murmurs, his voice laced with an uncharacteristic apprehension that has you smiling.

“It’s fine.” You smile. You shuffle down slightly and very carefully place your head on Tom’s chest.

He tenses for a second but relaxes soon after. His hand hesitates for a moment before tentatively coming to rest on your shoulder, his touch light and cautious as if unsure of whether he's allowed to show such vulnerability.

"You don't have to stay," he murmurs softly, his voice barely above a whisper, but you can hear the underlying plea in his words.

You shake your head, a small smile playing on your lips as you nestle closer to him. "I want to," you reply simply, the warmth of his body seeping into yours, banishing the chill of the room.

“You shouldn’t.” He repeats, and his words are undoubtedly laced with an underlying meaning that should warn you.

But if you realise that, he certainly can’t tell. You simply close your eyes and speak.

“I’ve never been the best at listening, have I?”

-•-

Exams are over, and graduation day arrives. Tom feels a conflicting mix of emotions swirling within him, and he hates the fact he’s grappling with things he shouldn’t be worried about. On one hand, there's a sense of relief that he won't have to worry about dragging you into the complexities of his life any longer. The thought of you being free from the burdens and dangers that often accompany his endeavours brings him a measure of solace.

Yet, at the same time, there's a pang of sadness that ebbs away at him when realizes that this may be the last time he'll see you. The prospect of saying goodbye, of parting ways, suddenly becomes unthinkable, and he feels a little sick.

As he scans the crowd of graduates, his gaze eventually lands on you, a soft smile gracing your lips as you chat animatedly with your friends. For a fleeting moment, he considers approaching you and saying goodbye properly, but the fear of attachment holds him back.

Instead, he watches from a distance, silently wishing you well. As the ceremony draws to a close and the graduates begin to disperse, he turns to leave, only praying you’ll never have to see him again.

But just as he's about to turn away, you catch his eye, a knowing smile playing on your lips as you make your way over to him. "Hey, Tom," you say softly, your voice filled with warmth and affection.

Tom's heart skips a beat at the sight of you, his resolve wavering in the face of your unwavering presence. "Hey," he replies, his voice barely above a whisper.

You smile up at him, a glimmer of mischief dancing in your eyes. "Trying to run away? You know, you won't get rid of me that easily," you tease lightly, reaching out to gently squeeze his hand.

Tom's lips twitch into a small smile, a flicker of hope betraying his rationale at your words. "I certainly hope not," he murmurs, his voice barely audible over the din of the crowd.

You lean up on your tip toes, pressing a light kiss to his cheek. You pull back and a small laugh escapes your lips, rubbing the faint lipstick mark it left.

Nosy. Irritating. Beautiful.

Tom doesn’t see you for a year after that.

A hesitant knock at the door of your dingy little flat nearing 1:00 am has you alert, and slightly on edge. You reach for your wand, carefully treading towards the door so as to not alert a potential intruder of your presence. You peer through the peephole, and you feel as though your world stops when you see Tom outside.

Hastily undoing the wards and spells that enchant your flat, you unlock the door and Tom all but collapses into your arms.

He reeks of dark magic, and you know. You’ve always known, really. What other mind could be so sadistically brilliant, who else would be able to crumble the Romanian Ministry of magic in a mere week?

You pull Tom into your flat, closing the door behind him as you guide him to the nearest chair. He looks drained, his usually sharp features drawn and weary. Blood stains his clothes, tension evident on his face.

You set to work immediately, inspecting the various wounds all over his body as you frantically recite healing spells, rummaging through a small leather trunk filled with an assortment of vials.

Tom observes you through half lidded eyes that threaten to permanently shut.

He always knew you’d become a healer. He had known since that day you came into his dorm and took care of him when he was ill. He had known since that day you had found an injured crow lying by the side of the greenhouse and nursed it back to full health in a mere hour.

You preserved lives, he took them.

“Up.” You murmur, pulling the hem of his shirt. He obliges, pulling his lead-like arms up as you unbutton his shirt and pull it off. You frown at the scars that mar Tom's chest and he wants to laugh.

Don’t stress over me, sweetheart. It’d be better off for you if I were dead.

He no longer flinches at your touch as you trail your hands down his chest, murmuring spells that alleviate the ache. You're exhausted by the time you're done, slinging Tom’s arm over your shoulder as you help him walk over to your bed.

He settles onto the bed with a heavy sigh, his body sinking into the mattress as if it's the first time he's allowed himself to truly relax in ages. You gently place your blanket atop of him, your brow furrowed as you take a seat at the edge of your bed.

You brush a strand of hair away from his forehead, his eyes drifting shut as exhaustion finally overtakes him. You watch over him for a while longer, lingering by his bedside as he slips into a fitful sleep.

You can't help but wonder how things came to this. How the boy you once knew, the one who had captured your heart with his sharp wit and brilliant mind, had become so lost.

You slide into your bed beside him and turn over, your back facing his. You let your eyes shut and find yourself falling asleep.

You wake up in the morning, and you know before you even turn around. Your bed was empty, barely a trace of warmth left. You had to be sure you didn’t dream last night's events, padding into the kitchen as you yawn.

A singular cup of warm cinnamon tea is there. You smile softly as you take the cup.

You didn’t see him for another two years after that. The news got worse and worse. Attacks were often and many. People were scared to leave the house.

Just when you've almost given up hope of ever seeing him again, there's a knock at your door in the dead of night. You're startled awake, heart pounding as you stumble out of bed and rush to answer it.

As you swing the door open, you're met with the sight of Tom standing there, looking worse for wear. His clothes are torn, his face bruised and bloodied, and it feels like a scene all too familiar.

Without a word, you reach out and slap him across the face, the sound echoing in the silence of the night.

Tom's startled reaction is almost comical, his hand flying up to his cheek as he recoils from the force of the blow. He stares at you in shock, his eyes wide with disbelief as he tries to process what just happened.

You glare at him, your fists clenched at your sides as you let out a string of curses, venting all the frustration and anger that has been building up inside you for years.

"You can't just waltz in and out of my life whenever you please," you spit out, your voice trembling with emotion. "You can't just show up here, covered in blood and bruises, and expect me to drop everything and help you."

Tom opens his mouth to speak, but you cut him off with a sharp gesture, your eyes blazing with determination.

"But you know what the worst part is?" you continue, your voice dropping to a whisper. "The worst part is that no matter how angry I am, no matter how much I want to hate you, I can't. Because despite everything, I still fucking care about you! I sit there, and I read the news, and every day I pray it’s not your death I’m seeing. Do you know how fucked up that is?"

For a moment, there's silence between you, the weight of your words hanging heavy in the air.

"I know," he murmurs, his voice barely audible over the pounding of your heart.

Before you can say anything else, he pulls you into a kiss, his lips pressing against yours with a desperation that takes your breath away.

You melt into the kiss, your anger melting away as you wrap your arms around him, pulling him closer. Despite everything, you know that you can't stay away.

For better or for worse, you're his weakness, and he's yours.

He pulls back and you have to resist the urge to dissolve into tears, bottom lip wavering as he pulls you into his chest.

“Don’t you dare leave. Don’t you dare fucking leave.” You tremble into his chest, and his heart pangs at your plea as he speaks.

“I won’t.”

He stuck to his word. He hated you for it. But he hated himself more. Because every second he stayed, was only binding you more and more to your demise. He was killing you, he knew it would happen, and yet he couldn’t bring himself to leave.

You erode his being, taking away everything that he was sure he was certain of. There were many times he would contemplate simply killing you, ridding himself of this foolish weakness that was causing him so much turmoil. A single look at you and Tom knew that there would be little to no meaning for immortality if you weren’t to be there beside him.

Tom would disappear for days on end, and you’d hear about an attack shortly after. He’d always come back. You turned a blind eye to his actions, ignoring the furious accusations of corpses that lay there in your name.

Truthfully, you could stop him. You knew that you could turn him in, and he wouldn’t dare lay a hand on you. But you didn’t, and so by association every person he killed had their blood on your hands too.

You had been called by Tom at the crack of dawn one morning. His voice echoed through your head, waking you from your slumber.

Clifford close. House 17.

You apparate without second thought, your eyes widening as you take in the scene.

Tom is standing there, covered in blood that you’re sure is not his. You turn around and spot another person, a frail old man who can barely look up.

The frail old man's plea is cut short as a burst of green light erupts from Tom's wand, ending his life in an instant. You watch in horror as the life drains from the man's eyes, a sickening realization settling in the pit of your stomach.

Tom turns to you, his eyes gleaming with a dark intensity that sends a shiver down your spine. Without a word, he turns his wand to you, muttering something that knocks you straight out.

He knows that making you a Horcrux is a drastic and irreversible decision, one that will bind your soul to his for eternity. But at the same time, he can't bear the thought of losing you.

The idea of immortality without you by his side is unbearable, and he knows that making you a Horcrux is the only way to ensure that you'll always be together. It's a selfish decision, born out of desperation and fear of losing the one person who has come to mean everything to him.

A sense of self-loathing creeps in. He knows that making you a Horcrux will condemn you to a life of despair, but he can't shake the feeling that he has no other choice.

When you awaken, you find yourself back in your apartment, the events of the previous moments feeling like a distant nightmare. Tom is sitting beside you, his expression unreadable as he watches you stir.

"Are you alright?" he asks, his voice filled with concern.

You blink in confusion, trying to make sense of what just happened. You recall the sight of the old man dying before you and slap a hand over your mouth, stumbling out of bed as you rush towards the bathroom. You collapse over the toilet bowl, retching. Your eyes sting, and you don’t hear Tom coming in until you feel a comforting hand on your back, one holding your hair up.

“Get the fuck off me.” You snap, pushing him away with a weak shove as you cough.

Tom steps back, his brows furrowing in concern. "What happened?" he asks, his voice tinged with worry.

You whirl around to face him, your anger boiling over as you shout, "You killed a man in front of me!"

He takes a step towards you, his voice cool and collected. "You must have been imagining things," he asserts, his tone firm and unwavering. "We were home all night yesterday."

Your hands tremble with anger and disbelief as you glare at him, tears blurring your vision. "You're lying!" you sob, your voice cracking with emotion. "You're making me seem crazy!"

Tom's gaze narrows slightly, a flicker of irritation crossing his features. "I assure you, I am not," he retorts, his voice tinged with impatience. "If you don't believe me, use Legilimency on me. Check for yourself."

You close your eyes, muttering legilimens under your breath. You probe into his mind, and he doesn’t keep his guard up.

In Tom's mind, you see a vividly detailed memory of him being home all night. He sits with you by the fireplace, a glass of whiskey in hand, engrossed in a book. You drink with him, a drunken giggle escaping your lips as you kiss him.

As you pull away from his mind, a sense of dread washes over you. The memory he showed you is so convincing, so detailed, that you find yourself doubting your own recollection of events.

You come back to this reality, blinking as you suck in deep breaths.

Tom's expression softens slightly, a hint of sympathy in his eyes as he reaches out to gently touch your shoulder. "It's alright," he murmurs reassuringly. "You had quite a bit to drink last night. You're probably just tired."

You nod, though you can’t rid yourself of the nagging feeling within you. Slowly sitting up, you follow Tom back to your bedroom. You lay back down in bed with him, convincing yourself it was a nightmare.

The second you close your eyes, the man calls out to you.

It’s very real.

In the following months, the cycle of Tom's disappearances and reappearances continues, each time leaving you more drained than before. You watch helplessly as he delves deeper into darkness, his actions becoming increasingly erratic and unpredictable.

You're alone in your apartment when it happens, a sudden surge of overwhelming emotions washing over you. You double over in pain, clutching your head as a vision flashes before your eyes.

In the vision, you see Tom, his face contorted in rage as he inflicts unspeakable torture upon an innocent victim. The scene is so vivid, so horrifying, that you can barely believe what you're seeing.

Gasping for breath, you stumble back, your heart racing as you try to make sense of the vision. You feel sick, your mind reeling as you stumble back into one of the chairs.

Tom returns in the evening, and you cannot bear looking at him.

You wash the blood off his hands. He could have used a cleaning spell, but he prefers for you to do it instead. To face the reality of what you’ve chosen. To wash the blood off his hands knowing it could have been yours.

You do not ask him about the vision, because you want to delude yourself into the comfortable reality that it was merely a nightmare of sorts.

‘Those only occur during sleep’ a voice points out in your head. You choose to ignore it.

Egged on by confusion and fear, you begin reading. Researching. A mirror image of Tom, hiding dark books from his sight as you read.

You bring it up one day.

You stand in the kitchen, brewing some tea as you speak.

“Is it possible to make a Horcrux out of a human?”

Tom's eyes widen in alarm, a flicker of apprehension crossing his features before he quickly masks it with a calm facade. "Why would you ask such a thing?" he replies, his voice steady despite the unease that lingers in the air.

You don't miss the subtle shift in his demeanour, the way his gaze flits away from yours for just a moment before returning.

You shrug nonchalantly, feigning innocence as you pour the tea into a pair of mugs. "Just curious," you say casually, though your heart pounds in your chest.

Tom watches you closely, his expression unreadable as he takes a sip of his tea. "It's not something that should concern you," he says finally, his tone firm.

"But is it possible?" you press, your voice tinged with determination.

Tom's jaw clenches, his gaze hardening as he meets your eyes. "Yes," he admits reluctantly, his voice barely above a whisper. "But it's a dark and dangerous magic, not something to be trifled with."

You nod slowly, your mind whirling with possibilities. "I see," you murmur, though you're already formulating a plan in your head.

You reach for one of the barely touched knives nestled in the drawer you had open and without second thought stab it straight through your hand.

Tom immediately drops the cup he holds, rushing over to you.

“What the fuck are you doing?!” He exclaims, eyes wide with disbelief as he stares down at the gruesome sight.

You grit your teeth, a pained sob escaping your lips as you yank the knife back out, and Tom’s heart is pounding at the sight of your blood dripping onto his hands.

“[Name], please. Stop-“ He pleads, stammering as he tries to staunch the bleeding.

You watch in disbelief as your skin begins to heal itself together, an almost grotesque sight. It seals together, and in no less than a minute it’s completely healed, not a scar in sight.

Your stomach fills with dread, eyes widened in betrayal as you look up at Tom. His gaze meets yours, guilt riddled in his eyes as you snatch your hand away.

"Fuck," you shout, your voice filled with a mix of pain and fury. Tears stream down your face as you struggle to process the revelation. "You... you made me a fucking Horcrux?!"

Tom's face pales, his own emotions mirroring the turmoil within you. He takes a step forward,

"I... I didn't mean for this to happen," he stammers, his voice laced with desperation. "I never wanted to hurt you."

But your rage consumes you, and you lash out at him, your voice filled with venom. "You ruined me, you fucking monster!" you scream, your words echoing through the room. "How could you do this to me? How could you use me like this?"

Tears mix with your words as you continue to berate him, your emotions spiralling out of control. You feel a searing pain deep within your chest, reaching out to shove him.

“I’m sorry. I thought it would work out! You’ll be immortal! Can’t you see it’s-“ He starts, and you snap.

"Sorry won't fix this!" you cry out, your voice breaking. "You've destroyed me, Tom. I can never be whole again."

He doesn’t know what to say, remaining silent as he tries to reach out to you.

“Get out!” You scream, reaching for your glass as you throw it in Tom’s direction. It smashes against the wall behind him, but he can’t look away from you.

He ruined you. He really did.

"Get the fuck out!" you scream, your voice filled with venom. You grab whatever is within reach and hurl it in his direction. Books, vases, anything that can cause damage. Each object crashes against the walls, shattering into countless pieces.

Tom has never felt like crying before, but this might be the first time he does. He turns and leaves, for he can’t bear to face what he’s done to you.

He was weak, after all.

You sink to the ground, your body racking with sobs as you hide your face in your hands.

What a cruel thing it was. Even if you wanted to, you could never permanently rid yourself of Tom.

You claw at your chest, as though you can just pull the fragment of Tom’s soul that was bound with yours.

You feel trapped, imprisoned within your own body. Your heart aches with a profound sadness, knowing that you were both beyond redemption. If only you hadn’t warned him that day if only you weren’t selected as a prefect, if only you didn’t try to save him.

Tom hasn’t heard from you for weeks. He doesn’t dare intrude either, no. He had already done enough damage.

The date is permanently engraved in his mind.

August the 17th. 7:03 pm.

He feels a searing pain in his chest. His hand comes up to clutch his heart as a pained groan escapes his lips. He can’t see for a second, his vision blurred.

Every breath is a struggle as he clutches his chest, his heart pounding against his ribcage.

The realization hits him like a tidal wave.

A Horcrux must have been destroyed. He only had two to date.

One was the ring engraved with his family sybil, which he wore on his hand.

The other?

Fear grips him, a fear he has never known before.

No. No. No. No. No. No.

He all but stumbles upwards, his mind focusing on one image as he apparates without a second thought. He appears at the door of your flat and doesn’t entertain the idea of knocking, bursting through the door with such force it splinters.

“[Name]?” He calls out, his voice a desperate plea as he searches through the eerily quiet apartment.

His heart pounds in his chest, his breaths shallow and rapid as he calls out your name, his voice laced with desperation and urgency.

"[Name]?" he repeats, the sound of his voice echoing through the silent space. There is a sense of foreboding, a heaviness in the air as he navigates the chaos, his eyes scanning every corner, every shadow.

His footsteps are quick and purposeful as he moves from room to room, his senses heightened, attuned to any flicker of your presence.

Finally, his gaze lands on a small table, and there, amidst the disarray, he sees a letter addressed to him. His heart skips a beat as he snatches it up, but within the depths of his mind, he knows what the contents of the letter will read.

Tom.

You by no doubt will know by now. I must preface by saying that I hate you. I will never ever forgive you for what you’ve done to me.

I remember with frightening clarity the day we had both first met. You were quite rude, but you backed down slightly when I had covered for you. It was then that I knew you must have not had very good people around you in your upbringing, for you were very reserved.

Despite all that, despite the fact that it was a very clear warning not to get entangled with you, I still did.

Year after year, I persisted. I could tell when you got annoyed, yet I did not give up. I was determined to know who Tom Riddle was.

I knew I loved you the day you had stayed with me after that boggart lesson. It’s rather silly, it was quite possibly the bare minimum someone could have done. But coming from you? Merlin, it was essentially the same as being gifted the moon.

I was not oblivious to what you were doing. Even from a young age, I knew of your plans, of your intentions. I suppose in a sense you’re not to blame, for I chose to love you willingly.

I only wish you had trusted me. You may have loved me, but you never trusted me. If you did, you’d have known my soul was already yours. I was bound to you indefinitely, there was no chance I wouldn’t have loved you.

I wanted love, you wanted devotion. They aren’t the same, my love. Devotion would have been me following you to the ends of the earth if you asked without question. Love would have been me not wanting to, but knowing I’d travel further to save you should you need it.

I would have given the world for you, Tom. I just wish you had let me do it on my own accord.

I love you. I always will. I always have. If there is a heaven though, I hope we never meet again.

Do not be afraid to be human. You, out of despair, and fear, and greed, drove everyone away from you. You cannot mourn a loss that you perpetuated. We are all human, flawed and imperfect. You are too. You may try to avoid it, you can split your soul and continue killing, but you’re only deflecting the truth.

I hope in my death you will meet your own. Mortality is a beautiful thing, Tom.

Do not postpone it. Existence has no better gift.

- [Name.]

-•-

It’s rather cruel how he can recall the entirety of your life in mere minutes. It doesn’t feel right, for the only time Tom truly lived was when he was with you. A lifetime, an eternity.

A mere recollection as he stands at your grave.

The rain is harsh, unforgiving. It seeps into his skin though he’s grateful, for some feeling was better than none.

He thought he would be immune to grief. It wasn’t that bad of a thing.

He can’t recall a day he hasn’t thought about you.

He threw himself further into the dark arts. He became more prominent, more ruthless. Many thought he was simply becoming more powerful.

Tom only hoped that in his efforts someone would find a way to end him. He threw himself into the most haphazard situations with the hope that a spell would misfire, that he would make an enemy of someone who would be able to kill him.

His eyes flicker up to the tree that grows above your grave. It was perhaps the first and only time he had cultivated a living thing.

Cinnamomum verum.

His fingers trace the inscription on the stone. Your laughs are buried deep within the recesses of his mind. They echo everytime he steps foot into your apartment.

It had been 6 years since you were found dead. He hasn’t touched a single thing. He sees life in your unmade bed, in the plants that he has an elf tend to. He keeps your necklace on him at all time, rolling the small pendant between his fingers when he finds himself thinking of you.

He forgoes tending to his own wounds. If it killed him then so be it.

There is not a day that goes by when he doesn’t read your letter.

Losing you was beyond losing a piece of his soul.

It was losing everything.

#slytherin #slytherin boys #tom riddle #harry potter #draco malfoy #lorenzo berkshire #slytherin boys fic #theodore nott #blaise zabini #pansy parkinson #tom riddle x you #tom riddle x y/n #tom riddle angst #tom riddle x reader #tom riddle fic

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rubycruzin4abruzin · 9 months ago

Text

we can’t be friends

Summary: Hazel, who has a giant crush on you, gets paired with you for a class project. She’s convinced you could never like her back because she thinks you’re straight, what happens when she’s proven wrong?

Pairing: Hazel Callahan x Fem!reader

Contains: mature language and content, hurt/comfort, smut, fingering (both receiving), oral, scissoring kinda, floor sex, loser!hazel, dom!hazel, fem!reader, sub!reader, 18+, MDNI

Word Count: 4.4k

A/N: (loosely) based off the song We Can’t Be Friends by Ariana Grande, and requested by anonymous. Requests are still open for Hazel Callahan and Kit Tanthalos! Enjoy!

———

Hazel stared at you from across the classroom, a deep longing in her eyes. Mr. G was rambling something about 9/11 and how it somehow pertained to his divorce but she wasn’t absorbing a word of his lecture. All her attention was focused on you.

PJ noticed Hazel’s obvious sense of distraction and rolled her eyes. “It’s never gonna happen, Hazel.”

Hazel’s face fell slightly as she looked down at her lap. “You don’t know that…” she mumbled.

“I do, actually. My gaydar is perfect, and she…” PJ motioned her head towards you. “…is not.”

Hazel's head shot straight up to look at PJ. “Weren’t you the one who thought Brittany was gay?”

PJ scoffed. “Ok? So my gaydar had a malfunction. It’s fine now, and trust me. You do not occupy that pretty little head of hers.” She shot a pointed look at Hazel. “She doesn’t want you. She wants a boyfriend. With a penis.”

A sad puppy dog look covered Hazel’s face as she turned back to look at you. You certainly did have a pretty little head, with long silky hair falling over your shoulders, perfectly framing your face. Maybe it was because Hazel had little to no experience with makeup, but she always thought yours was flawless, with your eyeshadow consistently color coordinated with your outfits. Today it was hot pink to match your miniskirt and pink pumps, paired with fishnets and a black tank top with writing on it that Hazel couldn’t quite make out.

You took a break from taking notes to reach into your backpack and find your lipgloss, carefully reapplying a layer. A dopey smile formed on Hazel’s face as she watched the sparkly pink solution trace your lips, wondering how it would taste against her own. PJ rolled her eyes once again. “Get over it, Hazel.”

Before Hazel could even open her mouth to respond, the sound of Mr. G’s voice echoed across the room, turning everyone’s attention to the front. He was going on about some new partner project, Hazel could barely focus. She soon, however, perked up when he mentioned your name.

“You’re partnered with Hazel.” He finished.

Hazel’s heart leapt into her throat. She turned to look at you, and you met her gaze with a bright smile. She offered an awkward nod back, and quickly looked away.

Mr. G soon finished with the list of partners and the bell rang to signify the end of class. PJ walked out with Josie, who could be heard panicking over being partnered with Isabel. Hazel was packing up her stuff for her next class when she saw a figure out of the corner of her eye. She looked up to see you standing over her desk, a glossy grin spread across your face. “Hey Hazel.”

Hazel tried to swallow, but found her mouth was completely dry. She managed to squeak out a low “…hey.”

“Looks like we’re partners for this assignment. I wanted to ask if you maybe wanted to work on it after school? Today?” You brushed a lock of hair out of your face, making Hazel wish she could do it for you.

She licked her dry lips and nodded enthusiastically. “Sure.”

You pressed your phone into Hazel’s shaking hands and you both exchanged numbers before “bye’s” and “see you later’s.” Throughout the rest of the day, it was agreed over text that you would meet at your locker after school before heading to Hazel’s house to work on the project. You had originally suggested your place, but after Hazel mentioned her mom being out of town on business, you were all for meeting at her’s instead.

When the last bell rang, Hazel ran to the bathroom and spent fifteen minutes fussing over her hair, trying to get it to swoop just the right way. Unfortunately, PJ’s voice saying “she’s not gay, it’s never gonna happen” rang through her head. After deciding it just wasn’t worth it then, she gave up and dejectedly made her way over to your locker.

You were already there waiting for her, and seeing you lean against your locker in the empty hallway made Hazel’s heart flutter. You looked just as perfect as you had earlier today (except Hazel could’ve sworn you had pulled your black tank top just a little farther down). You noticed her approaching you, and flashed her a bright smile.

“Hey Hazel, ready to go?” You asked. Hazel nodded. “Sure.”

“Great! I’m excited to be paired with you. I’m sure after this project we’ll become great friends.” You lifted your hand to squeeze Hazel’s upper arm, but she couldn’t feel it over the pang in her chest. Your words swam around in her mind.

“Great friends…” she didn’t want to be your friend. She wanted to be more. She wanted to be the one to laugh with you, and hold you when you cried. She wanted to take you out on dates, and slow dance with you at prom. She wanted you to look up at her with your big doe eyes right before you kiss her, and wrap your arms around her shoulders to pull her closer while she savored the taste of your signature lip gloss. She wanted to touch you. God how she wanted to touch you…

But she couldn’t. She couldn’t do any of that. Not if you were too busy making goo-goo eyes at some football player.

You wanted to be friends. Hazel wanted you… but more than anything she wanted you in her life. If being friends was the only way to do that, then so be it.

—————

The drive to Hazel’s house was pretty much silent, minus a few attempts at small talk from you. Hazel made a few attempts to respond, but mainly kept her focus on the grip of her steering wheel and the road ahead.

Hazel turned into her driveway, and walked you through her front door, up the stairs, and into her bedroom, shutting the door behind her. She motioned for you to sit next to her on the floor, and got out her pencils and the project rubric. After about five minutes of complete silence, Hazel’s head shot up. “Snacks!”

You looked up from the rubric in confusion. “What?”

“Snacks! I forgot to offer you snacks when we came in. Shit, I’m sorry! I’m a terrible host.” Hazel panicked. You had to stifle a giggle under your hand. Somehow, Hazel was being so adorable right now.

“It’s ok, Hazel. I’m not hungry. I promise.” Hazel rubbed the back of her neck as a faint shade of red crept up on her cheeks.

“Sorry. You just…” Hazel trailed off. You cocked your head in question. “I… what?”

“You just… sometimes you make me nervous…” Hazel mumbled, staring down at her lap.

Your lips parted slightly in shock at her confession. “I make you nervous?”

“Look… just forget I said anything.” Hazel picked the project rubric back up. “So, do you have any idea what this project is supposed to be on? I wasn’t really paying attention…”

You pulled the rubric out of Hazel’s hands and tossed it to the side, forcing her to look at you. “I’m not gonna forget what you said. Hazel, how do I make you nervous?”

A defeated sigh left Hazel’s lips as she realized you weren’t going to give this up. She squeezed her eyes shut, choking out your name before her next words. “I’m sorry but… we can’t be friends.”

It took a moment for you to process Hazel’s words, but as soon as you did, your face crumpled out of hurt. You were trying not to cry, but you couldn’t decide if it was from hurt or confusion. “What do you mean?”

“We can’t be friends.” Hazel repeated, refusing to make eye contact with you. “Whenever I’m around you, my hands get all sweaty and my mouth gets dry, and I can barely get any words out because… I don’t know. You do this thing to me. I can’t focus in class because all I can think about is how pretty you are and what flavor your lip gloss is and…”

Hazel’s incessant rambling was interrupted by the feeling of something wet and sticky against her cheek. She blinked, trying to process what just happened.

You kissed her. On the cheek.

A faint blush crept onto her face as she lifted her hand to feel where your kiss still lingered. She finally met your gaze to see you staring back at her, a giddy smile covering your face.

“You kissed me.”

You brushed another lock out of your face and smiled down at your lap. “Yeah. I did.”

“But I’m not a boy.”

You shot your head up and gaped at her, bewildered. Did you hear her correctly?

“Huh? I know…” you trailed off as realization set into you. “You think I’m straight?”

“Well, yeah. You’re all like… feminine and stuff…” Hazel mumbled, clearly embarrassed.

A thick silence filled the room as you stared at her, wide eyed. Hazel held her breath and refused to look at you. She thought for sure she fucked up before she heard… laughter?

Hazel looked up to see you in absolute stitches from laughing so hard. On one hand, she was glad you didn’t seem mad at her, but on the other… she really had no idea what you were laughing at.

After a moment, you calmed down, and stuck out one of your wrists to show Hazel a pink, white, and orange threaded bracelet. “Trust me, I’m not straight. And this…” you gestured to your outfit. “…is called hyperfem, and it’s actually meant to deter the male population.”

Several thoughts swirled around Hazel’s mind. Some “fuck PJ” or “how did I not notice the bracelet?” But mostly, all she could think about was how you were sitting in front of her, out and proud, in an empty house, and beaming from ear to ear.

You giggled at Hazel’s astonished expression and looked down at your lap. “I was kind of wondering why you had never talked to me before. Guess I know now.”

Hazel gulped. “I’m sorry, I…”

Suddenly, you decided to cut her off by tossing all the papers between you to the side, and crawling over to her lap. You put one hand on her knee and brought your face as close to hers as you could without touching. Hazel’s breath hitched at this new position, and you hummed as your eyes dropped to her lips. “Now that you know I’m gay… what do you plan to do about it?”

It took a moment for your words to settle into Hazel’s mind, but as soon as they did, she brought her face forward and kissed you, melting instantly at your touch. Her stomach filled with butterflies as she shivered from the pure adrenaline. She couldn’t believe how soft your lips were, and the taste of your lipgloss felt absolutely intoxicating.

You pulled away suddenly, smirking as Hazel whined at the loss of your touch. “So… what flavor is my lip gloss?”

Hazel hummed in thought, running the tip of her tongue across her bottom lip. “Watermelon?”

“Bingo.”

A devilish grin spread across Hazel’s face before she grabbed your jaw and pulled you back in, forcing you to tuck your knee into her lap to keep balance. Her tongue danced against your bottom lip, begging for entrance. A small giggle escaped from the back of your throat as you parted your lips and let her deepen the kiss.

Hazel’s hand left your jaw and slowly made its way down to gently caress the thigh you still had perched in her lap. You felt your body shiver at this new sensation, causing Hazel to pull away and survey your reaction.

“Is this ok?” She asked in a low voice. You nodded, your half-lidded eyes clouded with lust. “Please.”

Hazel caught your lips in hers again, and gripped at your fishnet-clad thigh. You moaned at the feeling of her fingertips caressing your nearly-bare skin. You had no idea your thighs could be so sensitive, but here you were, falling apart at her literal fingertips.

By now you were mentally begging Hazel to push her hand up just a little higher, so you grabbed the chain around her neck and pulled her close until you were on your back and she was hovering over you. Her big blue eyes looked like pools you were dying to swim in as she peered down at you with a look of nothing but content.

You dragged your top teeth against your bottom lip and giggled. “Tell me again how pretty I am?”

Hazel smirked as she continued to rub her thumb along the inside of your thigh. “So pretty. Like a princess.”

Your body involuntarily shivered at this new nickname, and Hazel found it impossible not to notice. “Oh, you like that? Princess?”

A muffled moan vibrated against your puffy pink lips in response. Fuck, when did Hazel get so… dominant?

She ran her hand just under the edge of your tank top, looking up at you for approval. You nodded, and she got to work pulling it up and over your head, leaving your stomach exposed and your chest covered with nothing but a black lace bralette. Hazel gulped at the sight of you, her spontaneous dominance momentarily leaving her. She swore she had never seen anything this beautiful. She leaned down again to kiss you once, softly and sweetly, before slowly leaving a trail of kisses to your jaw, your neck, your collarbone, and down to the top of your breasts.

Hazel’s big blue eyes stared up at you as she ran her tongue across the top of one of your tits, gently testing the waters. You let out a gentle moan, purely from the eroticism of it all. You swore you could cum just from looking into Hazel’s fuck me eyes.

“Hazel,” you breathed out, sitting up slightly to lean on your elbows. “You can take it off.”

A nervous look clouded Hazel’s features for a brief moment before being replaced by one dark with desire. “Whatever you want, Princess.”

God, you could feel yourself get wetter every time she used that stupid nickname.

Getting your bra off wasn’t necessarily a fast and flawless task for Hazel, as she was used to the simplicity of sports bras rather than the confusing clasps of a bralette. Luckily, you both had a good sense of humor about it, which made the situation far less awkward. Eventually, Hazel opted to just pull it over your head like a t-shirt, tossing it over her shoulder immediately after.

Hazel never thought she’d see the day where she’d have the Popular Princess of Rockbridge High’s tits practically served to her on a silver platter, but here they were, exposed in all their glory, and hers for the taking. She took one of your nipples in her mouth, running her tongue along the erect bud as she used her hand to gently massage the other. It felt incredible, but as much as you loved watching Hazel Callahan play with your tits, there was another part of you that was much more desperate to be played with.

Your hips involuntarily bucked against Hazel’s stomach, forcing her to pull away and click her tongue disapprovingly. “So impatient. Never took you for a sub.”

“Never took you for a dom.” You fired back, surprisingly quickly considering how mushy your brain felt.

Hazel simply shrugged and flashed a wicked grin. “Guess you do something to me.”

She slipped one hand down to the waistband of your skirt and started to undo your belt buckle until it was loose enough for her to slide it down your legs. Her fingers danced along your now completely exposed fishnets while she plucked at the delicate little strings.

“Funny,” she started, gently pulling at the thin threads. “If you weren’t wearing anything under these, I would totally keep them on while I fucked you.”

Her blunt choice of words sent palpitations straight to your clit, forcing a shiver down the length of your entire body. She either didn’t notice or pretended not to because she just shrugged. “Too bad you are. Gotta take them off.”

In a way, you were grateful for the black panties you had worn under your fishnets. Watching Hazel undress you to any capacity was a bigger turn on than anything any porn site had to offer. You made a mental note to wear more clothes next time.

By now you were down to nothing but the aforementioned silky black panties. Hazel moved her hand back to your thigh, rubbing her thumb along the inside teasingly. She reached up and allowed her finger to gently brush over the tiny crease where your leg ended and your panties began, looking up at you for affirmation before continuing.

You sighed, rolling your bottom lip between your front teeth. “Please Hazel. Please touch me.”

Hazel’s stomach couldn’t help but flutter every time one of your desperate pleas hit her ears, but she tried not to let it show. Still, it was difficult to ignore the dampness in her boxers, thankfully still hidden by her shorts. On the other hand, your panties were on full display, the black color managing to hide your wet spot from Hazel’s vision, but failing to keep your secret when she dragged her finger up your clothed cunt.

“Holy shit.” Hazel muttered under her breath. “So fucking wet already?”

You were far too turned on to even begin to respond to her taunts, opting instead to raise your hips and signify Hazel to take off your panties. Hazel, however, had other plans. She continued to stroke the length of your covered cunt, enjoying watching your hips stutter every time she so much as grazed your clit.

As much as you loved the cloth friction rubbing against your slit, the growing pool of wetness that resulted was beginning to make you feel suffocated. You lifted your hips to chase her touch, moaning with desperation. Hazel smirked, leaning down to whisper in your ear.

“Patience, pretty girl. I can’t do anything until you tell me what you want.”

Hazel’s finger picked at the waistband of your panties, while her darkened eyes stared down at you. You struggled to speak, your brain far too mushy to form a complete sentence. How in the hell were you this fucked out, and Hazel had barely touched you?

“P-please Haze… I need you mph… take them off…”

Another wicked grin appeared on Hazel's face as she leaned down again to praise your obedience. “Such a good girl.”

Her mouth latched onto your jaw as her fingers curled over the top of your waistband. You raised your hips, and Hazel pulled off your panties in one quick motion.

Now that you were completely exposed, you felt completely exposed, which wasn’t necessarily the most comfortable feeling. Your legs began to shut involuntarily, catching the attention of the girl hovered above you.

Her eyes went wide as she crawled off of you and put her hands up. “Hey, woah, are you ok? Do you wanna stop? I’m sorry! I should have checked in more. We can stop if you want. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.”

Hazel’s sudden transition out of her dominant alter ego caught you off guard. Still though, you couldn’t help but melt a little. She was being so sweet, making sure you were ok, you almost felt a little bad for her. You didn’t mean to freak her out.

You sheepishly smiled up at her, a little embarrassed. “I’m fine. Really. It’s just a little weird being the only one naked is all.”

Hazel blinked at you, processing your words. Almost like a lightbulb went off in her head, she jumped up and practically tore all the clothing off her body, throwing each piece over her shoulder as soon as it was off. You couldn’t help but notice a string of arousal momentarily connecting her slick to her boxers, breaking only after she slid them down her legs.

Hazel’s body read like a painting, with each brush stroke precisely positioned to perfect the masterpiece. Her wetness glistened from in between her legs, and you couldn’t help but admire the beauty standing before you. However, you didn’t get to admire for long, as Hazel was already repositioning herself over you.

“Better?” She asked.

You sighed. “Definitely.”

Hazel immediately got to work trailing kisses down your body while thumbing through the folds of your slit. Soft moans echoed from your lips every time she’d slightly dip into your entrance for some more lubricant, and then frustrated groans would roll out whenever she immediately pulled out. God, she had access to every part of you and still managed to be such a tease.

Eventually, Hazel kissed her way down to your pelvic bone, hovering her face just over where you wanted her the most. Her hot breath tickled your dripping wet folds, making you tremble with anticipation. She stuck out her tongue and gently kitten-licked your clit to gauge your reaction, staring up at you as she did. A soft whimper left your throat, causing a smug smirk to form on Hazel’s face. Starting to gain some confidence back, she locked eyes with you and slowly licked up the entire length of your cunt, from your entrance all the way to the hood of your clit. You whined, throwing your head back against the carpet.

“Feel good?” Hazel asked, not bothering to wait for your response as she already knew the answer.

Hazel dived into you like a starved woman, lapping up your slick like it contained the very thing she needed to survive. Broken moans fell from your parted lips as you desperately grasped at her hair, trying to keep her exactly where you wanted her. Your hips bucked against her face, a part of you dying to see her features covered in your juices.

Her name found its way out of your mouth, almost involuntarily. “Hazel I… mph… fuck…”

“Fuck yeah. I love it when you say my name, pretty girl.” Hazel exclaimed, eyes rolling in the back of her head. You groaned. Dominant Hazel could have very easily put you into cardiac arrest, you were pretty sure.

The feeling of Hazel’s tongue against your engorged clit was hypnotizing, but your entrance was also twitching for attention. You wanted, no, you needed her inside you.

You grabbed Hazel’s hair and pulled it to lift her off you. She started to whine at the loss of your taste, but quickly looked up at you to make sure you were alright. “Everything ok, princess?”

“Hazel, I… I wanna ride your fingers. Please.” You panted breathlessly.

Hazel’s body shifted at your bold choice of words before a dark desire clouded her face again. “Of course.”

She reached up and crashed her lips against yours again, the taste of your own pussy still lingering on her tongue and coating your mouth in the most arousing way. You both readjusted to where she was on her back and you were now hovering over top of her. She adjusted her right hand in the “come here” position with her middle and ring fingers standing, and rested it in the middle of her thigh.

“All yours, honey.” She looked up at you with a goofy smile and half lidded eyes.

You positioned your entrance over her fingertips, shifting slightly before sliding down onto her knuckles. Hazel's fingers curled to hit your g-spot, forcing your head to fall back with a throaty groan.

“Feel good, gorgeous?” Another one of Hazel’s praises fell from her lips.

“Fuck Hazel, those nicknames are gonna kill me…” you whined.

Hazel smirked. “Oh yeah, you like that? Gorgeous? Pretty girl? My princess?”

As you were drinking in Hazel’s sweet nothings and riding her long fingers, your eyes fell down to her lap. Her exposed cunt glistened with her own arousal, dripping down her thighs and onto your carpet. A wicked idea popped into your head, and you couldn’t help but smirk.

Your hand traveled down to the folds of Hazel's slick, forcing the brunette beauty underneath you to jump at the sudden touch. “Honey, what are you…”

“Is this ok?” You asked softly. Hazel nodded quickly, realizing what you were getting at. You hastily licked your fingers and slid them into her twitching cunt.

Hazel moaned at the feeling of your fingers inside her. “Fuck, baby. Feels so good. So good to me.”

The longer you bounced on Hazel’s hand, the more you felt that familiar tight feeling in your abdomen. “Hazel, I’m…”

“Yeah… mph… me too.” She managed to whisper under her breath.

Hazel positioned her thumb to rub against your clit, forcing your body to tremble in sputtered shocks. You curled your palm to stimulate her clit, and you could tell she was almost as close as you were.

“Hazel, can we… mph… cum together?” You asked, rolling your bottom lip between your teeth.

The brunette underneath you was already starting to fall apart. “Fuck baby… so close… let go… I’ll follow… yeah?”

You rolled your hips against her, using your free hand to position her wrist where you needed her to touch you. Your hips sputtered, your core tightened, your clit throbbed. “Hazel, I… mph fUCK!”

Your head rolled back as you let out a sound so primal, you weren’t even sure it was sexy. Hazel soon followed, her groans and whimpers reverberating around the room as her hips sputtered under you. You rode out your climaxes together, the erotic sounds of sex disappearing into the nearly empty house.

Hazel couldn’t believe it. Not only was her longtime crush gay, not only was she fucking you, but she had just given you a mind-blowing orgasm at the same time you gave her one. Fuck, the very thought almost made her cum a second time.

You rolled off of her, and snuggled into her chest while she wrapped her arm around you. “Wow…”

“That was… unexpected…” Hazel muttered breathlessly.

You giggled. “Yeah, no kidding.”

A comfortable silence filled the room, both of you just enjoying the presence of the other, the project from before long forgotten.

You looked up at her, planting a soft kiss on her jaw. “Still think we can’t be friends?”

“I think we’re a little more than friends now.” Hazel chuckled.

Your heart fluttered at her suggestion. “Yeah? You want to?”

“I mean, yeah, if you want to.”

You nodded, snuggling back into her chest, close to falling asleep after so much activity. Hazel continued to stare up at the ceiling, a goofy grin plastered across her features.

“PJ is gonna lose her mind after this.”

#hazel callahan #hazel callahan smut #hazel callahan x reader #hazel callahan x reader smut #kit tanthalos #ruby cruz #ruby cruz x reader #sapphic #fanfic #hurt/comfort

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cerealboxlore · 4 months ago

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Kindergarten Hero (idea ramble)

After re-watching Kindergarten Cop, I got to thinking that a similar scenario would fit Captain Marvel. Hear me out. As the beloved and iconic hero to Fawcett City, he'd go out volunteering all the time just to help out his city in any way he can. Rescuing cats from trees, helping the elderly cross the street, working in soup kitchens, volunteering at animal shelters, you name it, he's there with a great big smile, happy to help. He doesn't have to stop a big bad villain in order to be a hero, as he tells the public that it's the everyday heroes that inspire him to be kind in return. Heroes like first responders, volunteers, etc. Especially, teachers.

I can see Captain Marvel being a common sight at schools for special events to help pass down wisdom to the kids and to have some fun with the citizens he protects on a daily basis. Reading to the third graders, playing basketball with the 7th graders, helping the 12th graders figure out what paths they want to pursue in life and how to apply to colleges (thanks to the wisdom of Solomon for the last one). He gets told that he's a marvel with the kids, and that he'd be an excellent educator. He laughs it off, claiming he could never be as good as the present teachers, but it does linger in his mind just a little.

One day, while stopping by to say hi to some kids during recess at a random school (the patrol was quiet so he'd figured he could waste time this way), Captain Marvel overheard from one of the teachers in charge outside that it's a shame he can't stay longer. The teacher says that one of their kindergarten teachers is out sick, and with a substitute shortage, it's been a struggle to wrangle up the kids without hassle. They all have their hands tied with their own classes enough as it is. Without thinking about it, Captain Marvel says he's happy to volunteer for the position temporarily while they seek a more permanent solution.

Captain Marvel (Billy) thinks this will be easy! Teaching kindergarteners? Psh! He's been through kindergarten before (as Billy), and he's used to helping kids. Of course, teaching is going to be easy, I mean, how hard could it be?

Within the first ten minutes, Captain Marvel wants to admit defeat.

It is not easy to teach. It takes a strength stronger than Hercules to be able to get a classroom of little gremlins to sit down and do their classwork. The man is 6'5ft and the sight of tiny kids running around him is quite a funny sight to the other teachers, who can be heard laughing at him in their classes. Already there's a kid crying, another with glue on their head, and too many of them are trying to eat things that should not be eaten! He never thought he'd have to tell someone not to eat a Lego, but he supposes more impossible things happen whenever he's doing a magical mission.

He's determined not to quit though. If regular teachers can do this every day, then so can he. With the wisdom of Solomon and the stamina of Atlas at his side, Captain Marvel manages to find a way to speak to the littles, and manage the class into respectful students. He teaches the littles to respect their peers and parents, and passes down the importance of being good to the world around them.

He entertains them with lessons from history, the stories from around the world, and how the past can shape the future even centuries later. He gets to show his passion for geology (canon, actually!) to the littles and the science behind it. He even gets to bring in Tawky Tawny for class one day, where Tawny reads to them and they can pet his soft fur.

At the end of his temporary substitute era, Captain Marvel is glad to have that experience. He's grown closer to his city, and learned that Billy would love going back to school after seeing the Captain doing such a good job through his eyes (not back to Kindergarten, of course, ha!).

Anyway, that's me rambling on about Captain Marvel. I had more thoughts about this, but this post is long enough. Maybe next time!

#dc captain marvel #billy batson #shazam #dc comics #writing #late night thoughts #kindergarten cop #This is a silly little idea

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haggishlyhagging · 9 months ago

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It took about two hours for Daina Taimina to find the solution that had eluded mathematicians for over a century. It was 1997, and the Latvian mathematician was participating in a geometry workshop at Cornell University. David Henderson, the professor leading the workshop, was modelling a hyperbolic plane constructed out of thin, circular strips of paper taped together. 'It was disgusting,' laughed Taimina in an interview.

A hyperbolic plane is 'the geometric opposite' of a sphere, explains Henderson in an interview with arts and culture magazine Cabinet. 'On a sphere, the surface curves in on itself and is closed. A hyperbolic plane is a surface in which the space curves away from itself at every point.' It exists in nature in ruffled lettuce leaves, in coral leaf, in sea slugs, in cancer cells. Hyperbolic geometry is used by statisticians when they work with multidimensional data, by Pixar animators when they want to simulate realistic cloth, by auto-industry engineers to design aerodynamic cars, by acoustic engineers to design concert halls. It's the foundation of the theory of relativity, and thus the closest thing we have to an understanding of the shape of the universe. In short, hyperbolic space is a pretty big deal.

But for thousands of years, hyperbolic space didn't exist. At least it didn't according to mathematicians, who believed that there were only two types of space: Euclidean, or flat space, like a table, and spherical space, like a ball. In the nineteenth century, hyperbolic space was discovered - but only in principle. And although mathematicians tried for over a century to find a way to successfully represent this space physically, no one managed it - until Taimina attended that workshop at Cornell. Because as well as being a professor of mathematics, Taimina also liked to crochet.

Taimina learnt to crochet as a schoolgirl. Growing up in Latvia, part of the former Soviet Union, 'you fix your own car, you fix your own faucet - anything', she explains. 'When I was growing up, knitting or any other handiwork meant you could make a dress or a sweater different from everybody else's.' But while she had always seen patterns and algorithms in knitting and crochet, Taimina had never connected this traditional, domestic, feminine skill with her professional work in maths. Until that workshop in 1997. When she saw the battered paper approximation Henderson was using to explain hyperbolic space, she realised: I can make this out of crochet.

And so that's what she did. She spent her summer 'crocheting a classroom set of hyperbolic forms' by the swimming pool. 'People walked by, and they asked me, "What are you doing?" And I answered, "Oh, I'm crocheting the hyperbolic plane."' She has now created hundreds of models and explains that in the process of making them 'you get a very concrete sense of the space expanding exponentially. The first rows take no time but the later rows can take literally hours, they have so many stitches. You get a visceral sense of what "hyperbolic" really means.' Just looking at her models did the same for others: in an interview with the New York Times Taimina recalled a professor who had taught hyperbolic space for years seeing one and saying, 'Oh, so that's how they look.' Now her creations are the standard model for explaining hyperbolic space.

-Caroline Criado Perez, Invisible Women

Photo credit

#caroline criado perez #Daina Taimina #women in stem #women’s history #women in science #crochet #crocheting #female mathematicians #hyperbolic space

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newsepick · 6 months ago

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Digital Assessments for Students from Grade 3 Onwards - Newsepick Evolve solution enables educators to create regular assessments as per their curriculum and affiliated boards and gain student performance insights for personalized guidance

#Educational Technology #Automated Evaluation #Assessment Tools #Teacher Resources #Classroom Solutions #Education Analytics #Customized Assignments #School Management #EdTech Solutions #Interactive Learning #Student Engagement #Classroom Tools #EdTech Innovation

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leilakaro · 8 months ago

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Azul Ashengrotto X Mermaid!Reader

ooc (?), fluff, fem reader, no established relationship

English is not my first language

Y'all idc if the description of the Mostro Lounge doesn't match up with the in-game description I want it like this😋 also for the sake of the story lets ignore that she probably could find a lake or just jump right through one of the mirrors into the ocean

It hurt. It felt like you were suffocating, with no way of receiving help. You've been on land for so long now, and since you arrived in Twisted Wonderland you hadn't been more in touch with water than the occasional shower. However, that wasn't enough. It felt like you were slowly withering away and it started to hurt badly. Slowly you lift your head, it felt so heavy and it hurt, you look out of the window, it was almost the end of class but you just couldn't take it anymore. You needed water and you needed it now. But how were you supposed to find something big enough for you to swim in? Ramshackle dorm didn't even have a functioning bathtub, and definitely not a tub that is big enough to fit your tail.

Suddenly a thought crosses your mind how could you have been so dumb? The solution was so easy that you felt like slapping yourself, Octavinelle. Octavinelle consists mostly of merfolk and you knew for a fact that they had huge tanks inside the dorm, and not only that there was a huge aquarium inside the mostro lounge as well! Luckily over the past few weeks you've gotten pretty close to Azul Ashengrotto, the dormleader of Octavinelle. Your relationship with Azul was even getting a little bit too close to call it friends, and it was clear that there was a mutual attraction between you two. However you've taken it pretty slow with him because you knew how insecure he oftentimes could be and he just recently recovered from his overblot incident as well. But at the moment you didn't really care how slowly you took it the last weeks, if it meant you could swim in water again you would throw yourself at him if that was needed.

There was just one tiny problem, you didn't really tell Azul about being a mermaid, since arriving you've never really had a reason to reveal it and just recently got the need for water this bad. Of course it wasn't much of a problem to reveal it because you already planned on telling Azul anyway, especially since your relationship seemed to get serious and there was absolutely no reason to hide it. Finally, it felt like centuries have gone by, the bell rings and announces the end of classes for today. Abruptly you stand up and gather your things, everything seemed to get a little blurry but you quickly shake your head, trying to get rid of the dizziness. Ignoring Ace, Deuce and even Grim and Yuu, you storm out of the classroom right into the busy hallway. You needed that tank now. Half gone and only half awake you somehow make it to the Mostro Lounge, it was still closed and no visitors were allowed at the moment but you honestly couldn't care less. You quickly go inside, you need to hurry as long as your two legs are still working. Your vision seemed to blur almost completely now and you only notice faintly that a person is running over to you, as you fell to your knees. "Mc??" someone loudly calls your name. Who was it? You look up, trying to identify the person, everything was just blurry mess. Finally you recognise him. "A-Azul? I need help. I need water." You slowly exclaimed, your voice hoarse and not able to keep up, it felt like you didn't drink water in days and your throat felt incredibly dry. "What water?? Mc what happened?!" Azul quickly catches you before you could completely fall over. You cough a few times before you manage to answer "I said I need water. Now. Please Azul, the aquarium" you knew how confusing that must sound to him but you couldn't care less right now, you needed water right now. Azul furrows his eyebrows trying to make sense of your words, worry is evident in his eyes and he is obviously panicking "The tank?? What are you talking about?" You groan and you feel your consciousness slowly fading away "Dammit Azul just put me in the damn aquarium. Now!" Completely confused but eager to help, Azul hurriedly picks you up. He was scared, he didn't know why you were in this state and why you would request to be put in a tank but he just couldn't care less about logic, he just wanted you to get better quickly, and if that meant putting you in a tank and so be it.

Everything went black for a few seconds and you could only faintly hear Azul's voice pleading you to keep your eyes open. You didn't know how you got into the tank but you slowly felt yourself getting engulfed by the comforting coolness of the water. It felt like after days without water you could finally drink again, after weeks of slowly withering away you could finally breath. Azul however wasn't so sure about that. Why would you want to be put into the goddamn tank??? He was incredible confused and worried. First you came into mostro lounge looking half dead and then you demand to be put into the aquarium, what was even happening?

To you, however, it felt like heaven. Even though a little painful, because your legs began to melt together. "Oh my god, what is happening. Mc!" Azul panics as he watches your legs melt together, how was that possible?? And oh my god are this scales???

Scales slowly began to cover what you once called legs, up until your hips. It was a beautiful unique shade of (f/c), it shimmered and Azul just couldn't take his eyes off your strange transformation. Even though Azul was utterly shocked in the moment he couldn't help but recognise: you were beautiful it was unreal, you seemed like you were straight out of a fairytale. You eyes slowly opened your normally dull (e/c) now shined brightly. From your hips down was now a beautiful mermaid tail visible, instead of your legs. Your breast were covered by scales and it almost seemed like a tight fitting bra. Your hair flowed around you and Azul had not words to describe your beauty. He always thought of you as exceptional beautiful but this? He was utterly speechless. His mouth was wide open as he stares at your beautiful form inside the aquarium. "M-Mc?" He stutters nervously, and he couldn't take his eyes off of yo. You chuckle as you swim closer to him, and rest your hands against the glass of the aquarium. Azul slowly came closer and rests his hands against yours, only the glass separating you two. "You're a mermaid" he states almost like in a trance, as he takes your form in "and you're so beautiful" quickly he realises his words, and blushes embarrassed. He was stunned and shocked, utterly shocked. His sweet supposedly human Mc was a mermaid?!

He looked so cute right now you just couldn't resist him. You laugh playfully and swim to the opening of the aquarium, Azul taking a few steps towards it. You pull yourself up, your upper body now out of the water. "I'm sorry" you smile apologetically at him "I wanted to tell you differently than this". He looks at you still a little speechless "I really did not expect this." He takes a deep breath "I'm also not opposed to it of course" he blushes again as he takes in your beautiful form yet again. You giggle and wrap your arms around his neck, pulling yourself up a little more. "Hey you're getting me all wet!" Azul protests weakly, any further words dying down as you cheekily grin at him. Your wet hair clings to your body and half of your upper body is now pressed up against him. Azul's blush intensifies as your face comes closer to his, the physical contact slowly overwhelming him. Yet he also knew he wanted this. Azul slowly closed his eyes and it felt like an eternity before your lips finally met his for the very first time. It was slow and full of affection as your lips moved against one another's. Slowly you pull away, you look up at him through half lidded eyes and at this moment Azul could have sworn that you were a siren instead of a mermaid.

However, embarassment quickly took over and he buries his face in your neck. An embarrassed, shaky sigh escapes his mouth as you laugh happily.

"Gosh I haven't felt this good in months"

#twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twst #disney twst #twst wonderland #twst fluff #twst octavinelle #octavinelle #azul ashengrotto #twst azul #floyd leech x reader #floyd leech #twst floyd #jade leech #twst jade #jade leech x reader

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letstrythisout4 · 4 months ago

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James Sirius Potter

Big brother, sooooooo big brother.

Incredibly powerful, his accidental magic was insane growing up. Unintentionally was made into the golden child, he just had a lot of expectations put on him early on because of how intense his magical range was demonstrated to be at such an early age.

Looks more like Fleamont than James or Harry (but like they are all clones of each other). You had to know each of them to really see the differences ( in other words when he showed up at Hogwarts the staff was like “omg he looks just like harry” and flitwick was like “no that’s monty”) (the thought just occurred but I like the idea that monty and flitwick were buddies cause they both were into dueling)

Menace but good at hiding it. You cannot catch him doing anything wrong. And I mean from harmless pranks to criminal behavior, you cannot catch him. No reliable evidence. Sure, maybe you saw him, but can you prove it? No.

McGonagall and Flitwick are on it though, some days something will happen and no they can’t prove it was James but look at the way he’s smiling, he’s so smug. “Potter, do you mind helping me reorganize my classroom?” “...Your classroom?” “Yes my classroom” *4 hours later, he finally leaves, knowing that was his unofficial detention*

(He always agrees to help because 1) he was raised to be helpful when available. 2) Its best to take the punishment now, then let them simmer in their suspicion)

Fighter.

James feels like the kind of guy to punch first and ask questions later. I think all of the Next Gen are fighters but I think James is the easiest to rile up. Like you don't really need to do much, one comment about his family, done (really, just look at any of them weird). The kind of guy where you can damn him to hell but if you look at his mom the wrong way, he’ll jump you. Fighting is the only thing he ever gets caught for and he never denies it.

Guilty pleasure is smoking. He doesn’t do it super frequently but he only smokes magical cigarettes that don’t fuck up your lungs so is it really that bad? (Yes, it's still bad. I like to think that for every magical solution, there is a new problem yk. No wizard cigarettes don’t fuck up your lungs, but it can’t be incredible healthy to inhale magic like that frequently. Maybe it messes with your magical control so like it may make you put too much or too little power into your everyday magic) If it wasn’t bad he wouldn’t hide it from his parents.

(Doesn’t feel like the kind of person to do anything other than smoke and drink. He doesn’t think less of anyone who wants to do more but I think his magic is really reactive and what he does already is more than enough.)

Speaking of parents, dude loves his parents a lot. (More of a dad harry headcanon but I like to think that the Potter kids can tell Harry anything, do they always? No, they are kids, but when push comes to shove they know they can trust their dad with anything.)

Like to think that he has really good intuition. He just knows.

He’s also good at Divination. I love the idea that Divination to a certain degree is just a "gift", some people are more adept than others and James is one of those people. It’s well known to the point where when people want advice on the Divination homework, want a tarot reading, tea reading, etc etc, they go to James and he’s always right.

Is a true student athlete. Like yeah he loves Quidditch but he has a potions exam coming up and the potion exam takes priority (Oliver Wood just shed a tear somewhere).

That said he is freakishly good at managing his time and keeping up with all of his classes, tutoring and quidditch. I feel like after the Golden Trio era, Hermione would push against time turners being given and in turn James wouldn’t be allowed to take as many classes, SO to get around what he harassed like half of the staff to tutor him in the advanced material of their subject.

Loves his name but also feels a lot of pressure. Named after two wizards that are greatly admired, at least by his father, he wants to do right by them.

Doesn’t get into arguments frequently but when he does he’s brutal. James loves his family, but when he’s hurt, he’s hurt, and he is going to bring whoever put him in that mood down with him, family or not.

The kind of person to never date and when they finally do it’s miraculously the love of their life who he will marry and spend eternity with.

Best class is transfiguration.

Letterman jackets.

Baseball fan.

Kind of person to see a first year looking lost and walk them to the otherside of the castle where their class is.

Definitely prefect and head boy.

Was the one to break the silence and start clapping for Albus when he got sorted to Slytherin.

Loves his siblings, but like he’s definitely closer with the twins and Teddy. He’s close with his siblings too, don’t get me wrong, but he wants to be a good role model for his siblings and he doesn’t really have to when around the older cousins.

Listens to Mitski and Childish Gambino.

Not incredibly talkative or extroverted, he has a solid three friends plus the army that is his family and he’s good with that.

The kind of kid to walk into the living room where Harry and Ginny are sitting, do a backflip, and walk out.

(as a neurodivergent person myself i like the different neurodivergent James headcanons, in particular the idea that he is bipolar, i think writing hp characters as having these types of disorders can be so important on a representation level but also in a large worldbuilding scale as the question of how does the wizarding world perceive mental disorders etc. lemme know if anyone would care to hear my thoughts on these ideas cause i have many)

#james sirius potter #lily luna potter #albus severus potter #harry potter #ginny weasley #next gen harry potter #harry potter next generation #harry potter next gen headcanon

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stylesonfilms · 5 days ago

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ink & innocence - 17

word count: 9.2k

enjoy! a bit of a long one! i did noooot spell, grammar, or plot consistency check, i wrote the ending half asleep but i wanted to post for you guys haha! whats everyones favorite chapter so far??

Aspen set the thick packet down in front of her professor with shaky hands, forcing a tight smile that she hoped masked her inner turmoil. The weight of the exam lingered heavily on her shoulders, and her stomach churned with anxiety. This was her last midterm before finals, the final hurdle before a week-long break that she desperately needed. Yet, the moment she exited the classroom, the reality of her performance crashed over her like a wave.

Tears prickled at the corners of her eyes as her feet carried her hurriedly down the hallway. She sniffled quietly, swiping at the tip of her nose with her sleeve, trying to keep herself composed until she reached the sanctuary of the single bathrooms in the academic building. The door clicked shut behind her, and she quickly turned the lock.

The tears came fast and hard, pouring down her cheeks as her back pressed against the cool tiled wall. Her breaths were shallow and uneven, punctuated by small hiccups as she let herself unravel in private. Aspen slid her tote bag off her shoulder and onto the counter, gripping the edge tightly as she tried to ground herself.

She absolutely flunked that exam. She was sure of it. The professor had granted two hours to complete it, and even with every precious second of that time, she felt unprepared and overwhelmed. Her confidence wavered as she remembered how she stared blankly at questions that felt like a foreign language. She could still see the empty spaces on the answer sheet and the scribbled guesses she made out of sheer desperation. Aspen hated guessing—it wasn't like her. She thrived on preparation, on being in control. To leave the exam room knowing she hadn't done her best shattered her.

Her hands trembled as she reached into her tote bag, rummaging until she found her phone. She fumbled to unlock it, tears blurring her vision as she scrolled through her contacts. Harry's name stood out to her, and she hesitated for only a moment before pressing the call button.

He was at work, she knew that. He was likely busy with clients or sketches, but Aspen didn't care. She didn't need advice or solutions right now—she just needed to hear his voice, to feel tethered to something solid when she felt like she was free-falling.

"Come on," she whispered shakily, her thumb anxiously tapping against the edge of her phone. "Pick up, pick up..."

The taunting rings seemed to stretch on forever, each one amplifying her desperation, until finally, the line clicked.

"Hi, baby. What's up?"

Harry's voice was a soothing balm, warm and inviting, tinged with the faintest edge of curiosity. Aspen's lips parted as a breath of relief escaped her, but the sound wavered into a broken sob as her emotions surged forward uncontrollably.

"H-Harry," she managed to choke out, his name coming out as a quiet plea.

Aspen pressed the heel of her palm to her forehead, screwing her eyes shut as more tears spilled over. Her free hand clutched at the hem of her hoodie, twisting it nervously. She felt small and overwhelmed, embarrassed that she was falling apart over a test but unable to stop herself.

The concern in Harry's voice was immediate and palpable, even through the phone. The sound of the rolling wheels on his chair could be heard. "Asp? What's wrong, love? Are you okay?"

His tone softened further, wrapping her like a comforting embrace, and Aspen felt her knees weaken at how easily he could soothe her even without being there.

"I—I messed up," she whispered, her voice trembling. "I messed up so bad, Harry. I couldn't—I didn't know the answers, and I couldn't finish in time..."

Harry's brows furrowed as he listened intently, his heart aching at the sound of her distress. He could picture her so vividly, her cheeks streaked with tears, her doe eyes wide with worry, and her lip trembling in that way that always made him want to scoop her up and shield her from the world.

"Hey, hey," he murmured, his voice low and gentle, "slow down, baby. It's okay. Deep breath f'me, yeah? In through your nose, out through your mouth. Jus' like that."

Aspen tried to follow his instructions, her breath hitching but eventually evening out under his guidance. Harry waited patiently, letting her take her time before speaking again.

"Now, tell me what happened," he coaxed, his voice still soft but laced with a quiet determination to make her feel better.

Aspen bit her bottom lip, the familiar comfort of his voice easing some of the weight off her chest. "I... I just feel so stupid," she admitted in a small voice. "I studied so much, but when I sat down, it all just... disappeared. I'm pretty sure I failed, Harry."

"You're not stupid," Harry said firmly, his tone brooking no argument. "You're the furthest thing from stupid, Asp. You're brilliant, and hardworking, and the fact that y'even care this much says everything about the kind of person you are."

Aspen's chest tightened at his words, the lump in her throat growing larger. She sank onto the counter, her legs dangling as she held the phone close to her ear. "But what if I ruined everything? What if I can't—"

Harry interrupted her gently. "You didn't ruin anything, angel. One exam isn't going to define you, alright? And even if y'didn't do as well as you hoped, it's not the end of the world. You're allowed t'have bad days. You're allowed t'be human."

His words settled over her like a warm blanket, and Aspen sniffled again, this time out of gratitude rather than despair. Harry always knew what to say to make her feel better, to make her believe in herself even when she doubted everything.

"Thank you," she whispered, her voice still shaky but steadier than before.

"Always, baby," Harry replied softly. "D'you want me to come pick you up? Take you out f'something sweet? I've got a break coming up, and I'll ditch these idiots for you in a heartbeat."

Aspen laughed lightly through her tears, the sound fragile but genuine. "No, I'm okay. I just... needed to hear your voice."

Harry smiled to himself, his chest warming at her honesty. "You can call me anytime, Asp. I mean that. I'm here, yeah?"

"Yeah," she breathed, her lips curling into a small smile despite everything.

As she ended the call, Aspen felt a sense of calm wash over her. The tears still lingered, and the ache in her chest hadn't fully subsided, but Harry's words echoed in her mind, steady and reassuring. She wasn't alone in this—she had him. And somehow, that made everything feel a little more manageable.

Harry leaned back in his chair at the shop, the soft glow of the afternoon sun spilling through the windows. The phone call with Aspen lingered in his mind, her quiet sobs and trembling voice still echoing in his ears. He rubbed a hand over his face, his heart twisting at the thought of her sitting alone, overwhelmed and upset. No amount of reassurances over the phone felt like enough. He glanced at the clock, then at the empty appointment book for the rest of the day. Decision made.

"Alright, that's it for me," Harry called out to Zayn and Niall, who were lounging near the counter with snacks in hand.

Zayn arched a brow. "Shop's not even closed yet, mate. What gives?"

Harry grabbed his jacket, slipping it on as he shot them a look. "Got somewhere I need to be."

Niall smirked knowingly, crunching into a crisp. "Let me guess. Aspen?"

Harry didn't bother denying it, his lips curling into a slight grin as he pocketed his keys. "Yeah, and if either of you tries to stop me, you're cleaning the entire shop tonight."

"Not a chance," Zayn said with a laugh, tossing a bag of crisps toward Harry. "Go be Prince Charming or whatever. Tell her we said hi."

Harry waved them off with a roll of his eyes, but his chest warmed at their teasing. He locked up the shop and headed out, his boots hitting the pavement with purpose. On his way, he made a quick stop at a frozen yogurt shop he knew Aspen loved. It didn't take him long to spot the cheesecake froyo on the menu—her favorite—and he added a handful of fresh strawberries and crushed graham crackers as toppings, just the way she liked it.

Balancing the froyo carefully, he climbed back into his car and made his way to her campus. The drive wasn't long, but it gave him time to think about how much Aspen had come to mean to him. She was a mix of strength and vulnerability, so stubbornly independent but also so willing to let him in when she needed it. He couldn't help but feel protective of her, wanting to be her safe place whenever she needed one.

Aspen, sitting in the library attempting to distract herself with her laptop, stared blankly at the screen, the words blurring together. The sound of her phone buzzing pulled her from her haze, and she swiped at the notification. Seeing Harry's name accompanied by the message, "Come outside, love. Got a surprise for you," made her heart stutter. She frowned in confusion, her fingers hovering over the screen before deciding to leave her response unread. Instead, she wiped her damp cheeks with the sleeve of her oversized hoodie, quickly gathered her bag, and made her way to the exit.

The late afternoon sunlight poured through the glass doors as she stepped outside, the cool air brushing against her flushed cheeks. Her eyes scanned the parking lot, and then she spotted him.

Harry was leaned casually against the side of his car, one ankle crossed over the other, his figure relaxed but effortlessly commanding. He wore a fitted black tee that clung perfectly to his broad shoulders and skinny jeans that accentuated his long legs. A pair of aviator sunglasses perched on the bridge of his nose, hiding his expressive green eyes, but his smirk was unmistakable.

In his hands were two cups of frozen yogurt, the condensation from the chilled cups glistening in the sun. His tattooed arms flexed slightly as he adjusted his grip on them, his silver rings catching the light. The sharp line of his jaw and the faint scruff framing his chin added to the air of confidence he carried so naturally.

Aspen's breath hitched at the sight, her steps faltering as a fresh wave of emotion threatened to overwhelm her. He was such a stark contrast to the chaos she felt inside—calm, steady, and completely hers. Her heart squeezed painfully at the realization of how much she needed this, needed him.

Harry straightened slightly when he saw her, his lips pulling into a soft grin that reached even beneath the shades. He raised the froyo cups in a small salute. "Took you long enough, angel," he teased, his voice carrying over the lot as she made her way toward him.

Aspen swallowed the lump in her throat, forcing herself to focus on the warmth his presence brought rather than the lingering doubt and self-criticism from earlier. She stopped a few feet away, her gaze flicking from his smirk to the froyo in his hands.

"You didn't have to come all the way here," she said softly, her voice trembling slightly despite her effort to sound casual.

Harry cocked his head, lowering the sunglasses down his nose just enough for her to catch the sparkle in his green eyes. "Course I did," he said simply, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. "You sounded like y'needed cheering up. And who better than me to do it?"

Her lips twitched into the faintest smile, the tension in her chest loosening slightly as she stepped closer. The froyo was topped with crushed graham crackers and fresh strawberries, just the way she liked it. A tiny warmth bloomed in her chest at the thoughtful gesture, even as her fingers brushed his when she took the cup, sending a spark racing through her.

"You're ridiculous," she murmured, ducking her head to hide the grateful smile tugging at her lips.

"And yet, here you are, accepting froyo from a ridiculous man," Harry shot back, his grin widening.

For the first time all day, Aspen felt a tiny flicker of lightness creep in. It wasn't much, but with Harry, it was enough.

Harry opened the car door for her, gesturing for her to get in. "Come on. Let me kidnap you for a bit. I've got no plans 'cept making sure you're smiling by the end 'f the day."

Aspen hesitated for a moment, glancing back toward the library. But then she met Harry's gaze, warm and steady, and nodded. "Okay," she said quietly, slipping into the passenger seat.

The ride back to Harry's place was calm, filled with soft music playing in the background and the occasional sound of Aspen's spoon clinking against the froyo cup. Harry stole a glance at her every now and then, watching as the tension in her shoulders gradually eased.

When they arrived, Harry unlocked the door with a flourish and held it open, leaning against the frame with an exaggerated grin. "Welcome back to Casa Harry," he announced, his tone playful as he dipped into an exaggerated bow.

Aspen couldn't help the giggle that bubbled up at his antics, despite the lingering cloud of self-doubt from earlier. Shaking her head, she stepped inside, the warmth of his space immediately making her feel more at ease. The familiar scent of cedarwood and faint traces of his cologne wrapped around her like a comforting hug.

"You're such a dork," she teased, setting her bag down near the couch.

"Maybe," he replied, following her in and plopping down onto the couch with a dramatic sigh. He patted the cushion beside him and grinned up at her. "But I'm your dork, so that makes it acceptable."

Aspen's cheeks flushed, the endearing sincerity in his words making her chest tighten in the best way. He always had this effect on her—disarming her with his humor and charm, grounding her with his presence. She hesitated only a moment before sitting beside him, curling her legs under herself and holding the now-empty froyo cup in her lap.

Her fingers fidgeted with the plastic spoon as silence settled between them for a beat. "Thank you," she said softly, the sincerity in her voice cutting through the quiet.

Harry, who had leaned back against the couch with one arm draped casually along the backrest, glanced at her with a slight tilt of his head. "F'what?"

Aspen's gaze dropped to her hands, and she twisted the spoon between her fingers. "For coming to get me. For always knowing how to make me feel better," she murmured, her words tinted with a shy vulnerability that only he seemed to coax out of her.

Harry's gaze softened, his green eyes studying her as warmth spread through his chest. The way she looked at him—with a mix of gratitude and trust—made him feel like the luckiest guy in the world. She didn't always let her guard down, but when she did, it felt like she was offering him pieces of herself she kept hidden from everyone else.

"I'll always come for you, Asp," he said, his voice low but steady, a quiet promise in the words. "Always. You're kind of my favorite person, y'know."

Aspen's heart fluttered at his confession, her cheeks burning as she ducked her head to avoid his gaze. She wasn't used to someone being so openly devoted to her, so unapologetic in their care. It was overwhelming in the best way, like discovering a part of herself she didn't know she needed.

Harry reached out, his calloused fingers brushing her cheek as he tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. The small, tender gesture sent a shiver down her spine. His touch was always warm, grounding her even when her thoughts threatened to spiral.

"Now," he said, his tone shifting to something lighter, "how about y'tell me what else I can do t'make your day better?"

Aspen looked up at him, the hint of a genuine smile breaking through her earlier gloom. His eyes, warm and full of affection, made it impossible not to feel safe. "Honestly? Just being here is enough," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper but carrying every ounce of truth she felt.

Harry chuckled softly, leaning in to press a kiss to her forehead. "Good," he murmured against her skin. "Because I don't plan on going anywhere."

The comfortable silence that followed was filled with unspoken gratitude and shared solace. Harry gave her knee a gentle squeeze, his lips quirking into a thoughtful smirk. "Y'know," he started, his tone casual but his gaze sly, "we should go out tonight."

Aspen blinked, caught off guard by the sudden suggestion. "Out? Where?"

Harry shrugged, leaning back and propping one ankle over his knee, the picture of nonchalant confidence. "Maybe Isobel's. I think being with the others might cheer you up. Could be a nice distraction."

Aspen hesitated, nibbling on her bottom lip. Social gatherings weren't exactly her forte, especially after the day she'd had. But before she could voice her reluctance, Harry added with a mischievous glint in his eye, "We could do karaoke."

Her eyes widened, a small laugh escaping her despite herself. "Karaoke? Harry, I'm not really one for singing in front of people."

"Ah, but you'd get to see me sing," he countered, his grin widening. "And 'm telling you now, baby, it's top-tier entertainment. You'll forget all 'bout that shitty exam."

Aspen couldn't help but imagine Harry up on stage, fully committing to some over-the-top performance with that cheeky charm he wielded so well. The thought alone had her lips twitching into a reluctant smile.

"Okay," she said softly, surprising even herself. "But only because seeing you make a fool of yourself sounds like the perfect distraction."

Harry laughed, his deep, rich tone filling the room like sunlight breaking through clouds. "You're in for a treat, then," he teased, his grin lopsided but brimming with affection. Beneath his playful exterior, he was already crafting a plan to lift Aspen's spirits—he wanted nothing more than to see her laugh and forget the weight of the day.

With a deliberate slowness, he reached out and took the empty froyo cups from her hands, setting them gently on the coffee table. The movement was simple, but it held the quiet intimacy that defined so much of their relationship—an unspoken understanding and care.

Sliding his hand over her knee, Harry let his fingers hook around the back of it, guiding her leg over his lap with a gentle tug. The action was natural, as if he'd done it a thousand times before, and it made Aspen's heart flutter in her chest. Harry leaned closer, his curls falling slightly into his face as he pressed a warm kiss to her forehead.

The contact was tender, grounding Aspen in the moment. She felt her shoulders relax, the tension she'd been carrying all day melting away under his touch.

"You're incredibly smart, Asp," Harry murmured, his voice low but steady, carrying a conviction that left no room for doubt. "Smart and beautiful and caring—and 'm so lucky to even know you, let alone be yours."

The weight of his words made Aspen's breath hitch, her eyes softening as they flickered up to meet his. She wasn't used to hearing such affirmations, especially not delivered with such earnestness. It made her chest swell with a warmth that was uniquely Harry.

"Don't ever forget that, okay?" he added, his hand sliding up to cradle her cheek. His thumb brushed tenderly across her smooth skin, the touch as comforting as it was electrifying.

Before Aspen could respond, Harry leaned in, pressing a lingering kiss to her lips. The kiss wasn't rushed or demanding—it was soft, full of quiet devotion and reassurance. Aspen felt her heart stutter, her chest swelling with an emotion so intense it nearly brought tears to her eyes.

She sighed contentedly against his lips, leaning into his touch as if she could anchor herself to him entirely. In moments like these, it felt like all she needed was Harry. The way he made her feel—safe, cherished, adored—was unlike anything she'd ever known.

"Thank you," she mumbled shyly when they pulled apart, her voice barely above a whisper. She tucked her head against Harry's shoulder, letting his familiar scent envelop her.

Harry's lips curved into a small, satisfied grin as he wrapped his arm around her, holding her close. "Of course, love," he murmured, resting his chin lightly on the top of her head.

After a beat of silence, Aspen spoke again, her voice soft and laced with vulnerability. "Can we stay like this for a bit? Before we go to Isobel's?"

Harry chuckled softly, the sound vibrating against her. "To Isobel's, huh? Not back to yours?"

Aspen lifted her head, her nose scrunching in an endearing way that made his grin widen. She rested her hand on his shoulder and propped her chin on the top of her hand, gazing up at him with an expression that made his chest tighten.

"I would say that my home is wherever you are, Har," she admitted, her words barely above a whisper but carrying a shy sincerity that hit him like a punch to the gut. A faint blush crept up her neck, and she quickly ducked her gaze, as if second-guessing her vulnerability.

Harry's heart swelled, his grin softening into something tender. "Asp," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. He tilted her chin up gently with his fingers, ensuring her eyes met his. "You don't know how much tha' means t'me."

He pressed another kiss to her forehead, letting it linger as if to seal her words in his heart. "We can stay like this as long as y'want," he added, his voice a quiet promise. "You're my home, too."

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Harry and Aspen got back to Isobel's no later than six. Harry had texted Zayn and let him know to bring Niall, Louis, and Liam with him if he was going to come to karaoke night at Isobel and Aspen's house. The man got ready at his, swapping his black tee for a blue and red plaid flannel and pushed his curls back with a Green Bay Packer's hat that he wore backwards.

When Aspen got back, she wanted to clean herself up a bit so she tasked Harry with helping Isobel clean up the living room and set out drinks and snacks. She ran upstairs and stripped from her clothes she wore to campus, already feeling more cheerful than she did. Aspen reached the consensus that worrying about her grade wouldn't change it and would just make her night spoiled. So, she took a breath and thought about being with Harry and all the heavy weight was lost.

She stood in front of her vanity upstairs, carefully laying out her outfit. The lingering heaviness from earlier in the day had lifted, replaced by the warmth of Harry’s comfort and her decision to let go of her worries for the night. Worrying about what her grade was would not change it, it would just push her into a deeper sulk. The girl decided she'd much rather spend time with her friends and Harry.

The girl pulled on a black mini skirt that just skimmed the tops of her thighs over a pair of sheer black tights, both clinging well to her frame. Pairing it with a navy blue knitted crewneck, the soft fabric brushed against her skin and provided a cozy contrast to the slight edge of the skirt.

Sliding on a pair of frilly black socks, Aspen smiled at the reflection in her mirror. The playful combination of casual and chic suited her mood—light and free. Aspen was never one to 'sexualize' herself, but since that day at the shop with Harry, she was more keen to her figure.

Her brown eyes skimmed over her frame, cinching at her waist and becoming more full at the hips under her crewneck. When she turned to the side, the hem of the crewneck rested above the generous curve of her ass. It wasn't like she had the best body, but it definitely made her smile a shy one to herself at the sight. She added a swipe of sheer deep red lip stain that gave her a touch of glam and brushed through her curls, now soft waves, before spritzing on her favorite perfume. With one final look, she decided she was good to go.

When she finally descended the stairs, the scent of chips and dip greeted her along with the faint clinking of bottles. Harry stood by the fridge, rummaging through its contents while Isobel poured a bag of chips into a plastic bowl.

“Is there any juice? Asp will want juice,” Harry asked, glancing over his shoulder at Isobel.

“I don’t think so,” Isobel replied, shrugging. “But I texted Zayn to grab some on his way.”

Harry hummed, closing the fridge with a small thud. He set the chilled bottles of brandy and vodka on the counter, his eyes flicking toward the sound of Aspen’s soft footsteps approaching from the hall. They never went unnoticed by him, no matter how quiet.

His gaze landed on her, and his lips curled into an easy grin. "Hi, beautiful," he murmured, holding out an arm until she stepped close enough for him to rest his hand lightly on the small of her back.

The warmth of his touch sent a pleasant shiver through Aspen, and she tilted her face up to meet his eyes. Harry’s gaze roamed over her, lingering briefly on the exposed skin of her thighs before returning to her flushed cheeks.

“You look good,” he said, his voice dipping lower with an appreciative edge.

Aspen ducked her head shyly, her lips curving into a soft smile. “Thank you,” she said quietly.

Harry pressed a lingering kiss to her temple, his breath warm against her skin. “They’re just about here. ‘M going to use the restroom, yeah?” he said softly, reluctantly pulling away.

Aspen nodded, her heart fluttering as he stepped back. The sound of the doorbell chiming echoed just as Harry disappeared down the hall, and Aspen turned toward the door, her pulse quickening with anticipation.

She opened it to see Zayn standing there, holding a bag full of juice boxes, flanked by Louis, Niall, and Liam, all grinning like they were ready for trouble.

"Hello, ladies!" Louis greeted, stepping inside with exaggerated enthusiasm. He gave Aspen a quick hug, followed by warm greetings from the rest of the group.

Isobel joined them moments later, and the room quickly filled with laughter and the hum of excited chatter. Harry emerged from the bathroom, his flannel sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and took the bag of juice boxes from Zayn with a nod of thanks.

“Alright,” Louis announced, pulling a bottle of vodka from the counter. “I propose a toast—or a shot, rather—to celebrate our newest and cutest couple!”

Harry chuckled softly as he tore into the pack of juice boxes, the plastic crinkling under his hands. He carefully pulled one out, pressing the straw through the foil with a precision that made it look almost comical. His grin spread wider as he turned, holding it out to Aspen with a flourish.

"Just for you," he said, his voice warm and teasing.

Aspen smiled shyly, reaching out to take it. Her fingers brushed against his, a small, fleeting touch that sent a familiar warmth coursing through her. “Thank you,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

As she took a sip, her eyes drifted to the bottle Louis had placed on the counter, its glossy label catching the kitchen light. She hesitated, her brow furrowing slightly before she glanced back up at Harry. “Are you... um, are you going to drink tonight?”

Harry tilted his head, his hazel eyes softening as he considered her question. He could sense the slight nervousness in her tone, and it made his heart ache in the best way—she cared. “I was thinking about it,” he said honestly, studying her expression. “You okay with that?”

Aspen hesitated, biting her lip as she considered her answer. She didn’t want to ruin the mood or make him feel like he couldn’t have fun, but she also couldn’t shake the small worry that lingered in the back of her mind. Finally, she nodded, meeting his gaze. “Yeah, just... not too much, okay?”

Harry smiled, his chest tightening at the vulnerability in her voice. He leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. “Promise,” he said simply, his voice low and steady.

Louis clapped his hands together, breaking the moment. “Alright, lovebirds! Time for a toast!” He reached for the vodka bottle with one hand and grabbed a set of shot glasses with the other, his grin mischievous.

The group gathered around the counter, the energy in the room buzzing with anticipation. Harry poured out the shots, his movements smooth and deliberate, while Zayn and Isobel grabbed their drinks.

“C’mon, Aspen,” Louis said with a wink, holding up his shot glass. “We can’t toast without you!”

Harry handed Aspen her juice box with a knowing smile. “She’s got her drink,” he said, nodding toward the bright yellow carton.

Aspen laughed softly, holding up the juice box, the straw sticking out at an odd angle. “It’s not exactly vodka, but it works,” she joked, her cheeks warming under the attention.

Louis leaned over, clinking his glass gently against her juice box with a laugh. “Perfect. Cheers to Aspen for being the responsible one here!”

Everyone laughed, raising their glasses—or juice box—in unison. The clinking sound echoed through the kitchen, light and cheerful. Aspen smiled, feeling a flicker of warmth in her chest at the inclusion.

As the others downed their shots, Aspen took a sip from her juice box, her lips curving into a contented smile. Harry glanced at her from the corner of his eye, his grin softening as he watched her.

He could tell she felt a little out of her element, but she was trying—she always tried. And that was one of the things he admired most about her.

With the toast done, Isobel and Zayn set about hooking up the karaoke machine, their chatter filling the air. Meanwhile, the rest of the boys plopped down on the couch, their focus shifting to Aspen as they started asking her lighthearted questions and pulling her further into the group’s dynamic.

Harry leaned against the counter, content to watch the scene unfold, his heart swelling at how seamlessly Aspen was beginning to fit in. He was beyond thrilled that the sad look in her eyes were replaced with her usual shy, happy ones.

The boys sprawled out on the couch in various positions, the atmosphere lively but easygoing. Aspen found herself seated in one of the armchairs, her hands clasping the juice box Harry had handed her earlier. She twirled the straw absently, her eyes flitting between the faces of Harry’s friends as they all looked at her with a mix of curiosity and amusement.

“So, Aspen,” Louis began, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. His mischievous grin was impossible to ignore. “What’s it like putting up with our Harry over here? I imagine he’s quite the handful.”

Aspen laughed softly, the sound light and genuine. She felt her cheeks heat up under their attentive gazes, but she managed to hold her own. “He’s not so bad,” she said, glancing at Harry. “Most of the time.”

The group erupted into laughter, and Harry, who had just returned from the kitchen with a beer in one hand and another juice box in the other, shook his head with a mock look of betrayal. “Ouch, love,” he teased, moving to perch himself on the arm of the chair next to her.

The proximity made Aspen’s heart skip a beat, but it also felt grounding. As he settled beside her, his arm brushed lightly against her shoulder, and she found herself subconsciously leaning a little closer to him.

“Careful what you say,” Harry warned with a grin, holding out the second juice box to her. “Or I might just keep this for myself.”

Aspen took it with a soft laugh, her fingers brushing his as she did. “Thanks,” she murmured, tucking it beside her for later.

“Alright, alright, next question!” Niall interjected, his blue eyes sparkling with interest. “Aspen, what do you study? Harry mentioned something about you being a genius, but he’s never given us the full story.”

Aspen’s cheeks flushed deeper, and she glanced down at her lap, fiddling with the hem of her sweater. “I’m a psychology major,” she said quietly, her voice steady despite her shyness. “With a focus on child development.”

“That’s incredible,” Liam said, his tone warm and sincere. “And Harry’s not wrong—you must be brilliant to tackle something like that.”

Aspen offered a small smile, her fingers fidgeting with the juice box straw again. “Thank you,” she replied softly.

Louis wasn’t done, though, his grin growing wider as he leaned back against the couch. “So, what’s the verdict on our boy Harry here? Is he a good boyfriend, or do we need to have a chat with him?”

Aspen blinked, caught off guard by the directness of the question. Her eyes darted to Harry, who was watching her with a mixture of amusement and curiosity. She hesitated, but when she spoke, her words came from the heart.

“He’s... he’s amazing,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “He’s patient and kind and always knows how to make me feel better, even when I don’t say anything.”

The room fell quiet for a moment, her words hanging in the air. Harry’s expression softened, his lips curving into a gentle smile. He reached out, brushing his fingers lightly over hers.

“She’s too good for me, really,” Harry said, breaking the silence with a self-deprecating chuckle.

“Damn right she is,” Zayn quipped, earning a round of laughter from everyone.

Aspen felt herself relax as the boys continued to ask her questions—what her favorite book was, what hobbies she enjoyed, and even a playful interrogation about whether or not Harry was good at sharing his food (to which she answered with a laugh and a resounding “No, absolutely not”).

To her surprise, the more they talked, the more comfortable she became. The boys’ teasing was lighthearted and friendly, and their genuine interest in getting to know her warmed her heart. She realized she wasn’t as shy or reserved as she’d feared she would be, and she chalked that up to Harry’s reassuring presence at her side.

At one point, she leaned closer to him without even realizing it, her shoulder pressing lightly against his leg as he rested his arm along the back of her chair. Harry noticed the small movement, his grin widening as he glanced down at her.

“You’re doing great, love,” he murmured quietly, just for her to hear.

Aspen looked up at him, her lips curving into a shy but genuine smile. “Thanks,” she whispered back, her chest swelling with a quiet confidence she hadn’t felt in a while.

The lively atmosphere buzzed as Niall clapped his hands together, his grin as wide as ever. “Alright, lads, I think it’s time for another shot! Who’s in?”

A chorus of playful groans and cheers filled the room. Aspen sipped her juice quietly, watching as Niall got to his feet and made his way to the kitchen to gather glasses. Harry glanced down at her, his hand resting casually on her shoulder now, giving a gentle squeeze.

“You’re sticking with the juice, yeah?” he asked, his voice low and warm.

Aspen nodded with a small smile. “I think I’ll leave the hard stuff to you guys.”

He chuckled, reaching for his beer and taking a slow sip. “Smart move, love.”

As Niall returned with a tray of glasses and the bottle of vodka, Louis leaned back in his seat, stretching his arms behind his head. “While we’re waiting, I might as well fill you in on what I’ve been up to, yeah?” he said, his tone light but tinged with a hint of pride.

“Go on, Lou,” Harry encouraged, tipping his beer bottle in Louis’ direction. “Tell ’em all about it.”

Louis smirked, shifting forward in his seat. “Well, the music’s going great. I’ve been working on some new tracks, collaborating with a few cool artists. It’s been a dream, really,” he said, his grin softening. “But, I’ll admit, there are days I miss being at the shop. You know, working with my hands, the banter with clients—it’s not the same.”

Aspen tilted her head, intrigued. “What kind of music do you make?”

Louis’ grin widened. “A bit of everything, really—some indie rock, a bit of folk. I like experimenting with sounds. It’s been a journey figuring out what feels most ‘me,’ but I think I’m getting there.”

“That’s so cool,” Aspen said earnestly, her eyes lighting up with genuine interest. “I’d love to hear your stuff sometime.”

“I’ll send you a playlist,” Louis promised with a wink. Then, as if he couldn’t resist, he added, “You know, Harry’s the one who got me into music in the first place.”

Aspen’s brows lifted in surprise, her gaze shifting to Harry. “Really?”

Harry shrugged, the corner of his mouth quirking into a sheepish smile. “Don’t let him fool you. He’s the talented one.”

“Don’t be modest, mate,” Liam cut in, leaning forward with a grin. “Aspen, you should hear him sing. He’s got this voice—deep, soulful—makes you stop in your tracks.”

Louis nodded in agreement, his expression earnest now. “He’s not just a singer, either. Harry writes, plays guitar, even dabbles in piano. The man’s a bloody genius when it comes to music. He just pretends not to be.”

Aspen’s cheeks flushed, and she turned to Harry, her curiosity piqued. “You never told me that,” she said softly, her tone more amazed than accusatory.

Harry rubbed the back of his neck, his green eyes glinting with a mix of humility and embarrassment. “Didn’t think it was that big of a deal.”

“It is,” Aspen insisted, her voice gentle but firm. “I want to hear you sing sometime.”

Harry chuckled, leaning a little closer to her. “Maybe tonight, if you’re lucky,” he teased, his grin playful but his eyes warm.

Aspen’s stomach fluttered, and she bit her lip to hide her growing smile. The idea of seeing Harry sing—of hearing the passion in his voice that his friends were so adamant about—sent a thrill of excitement through her.

Niall returned just then, setting the tray of glasses on the coffee table and filling them up with precise care. “Alright, everyone, grab a glass! And Aspen, you can clink with your juice box. No one’s getting left out.”

Aspen laughed softly as the group cheered and reached for their drinks, Harry passing her juice box back into her hands. She held it up alongside the others, her gaze meeting Harry’s as their glasses and juice clinked together.

“To good music and good friends!” Louis toasted, his voice carrying a playful sincerity that made everyone laugh and cheer again.

As they downed their shots and Aspen took another sip of her juice, she couldn’t help but feel an overwhelming sense of belonging. These boys, with their easy banter and genuine warmth, were becoming more than just Harry’s friends—they were quickly becoming her friends too.

Isobel wandered over, her movements a little less steady than usual, her cheeks flushed pink from the secret shot she’d taken with Zayn in the kitchen. She grinned lazily and plopped herself right into Aspen’s lap without so much as a warning.

“Isobel!” Aspen exclaimed, laughing as she instinctively steadied her friend by holding onto her waist. “You’re such a lightweight, you know that?”

Isobel shrugged, leaning her head against Aspen’s shoulder. “Maybe,” she said, her words slightly slurred but still coherent. “But it’s a party, and I’m having so much fun.”

Aspen chuckled, her earlier anxiety melting away in the warmth of Isobel’s cheerful demeanor. “I can tell. How many shots have you had?”

Isobel smirked, her finger pressing to her lips in a mock ‘shh’ motion. “Just... two? Maybe three. But don’t tell Harry; he’ll get all big brother-y on me.”

Aspen shook her head with a soft laugh. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

They sat there for a moment, Isobel twirling a strand of Aspen’s hair absentmindedly before asking, “How was your day? I mean, before this fun chaos?”

Aspen’s smile faltered for a moment as she thought about her exam. “It was okay, I guess. My midterm was rough. I think I really messed it up.”

Isobel sat up a little straighter, her expression growing more serious despite her tipsiness. “Hey, hey. None of that,” she said, poking Aspen’s nose lightly. “You’re the smartest person I know, Asp. And even if it didn’t go perfectly, one test doesn’t define you, okay?”

Aspen nodded, her throat tightening slightly at her friend’s earnestness. “I’m trying to keep that in mind. I just... I hate feeling like I didn’t do my best.”

Isobel’s eyes softened, and she cupped Aspen’s cheeks dramatically, her hands cool against Aspen’s warm skin. “You’re amazing, Aspen. Brilliant, kind, gorgeous—and anyone who says otherwise is wrong. Got it?”

Aspen couldn’t help but laugh, her spirits lifting. “Got it.”

“Good,” Isobel declared before leaning in and planting a quick, playful kiss on Aspen’s cheek. Then, without another word, she bounced up and rushed over to Zayn, who was already fiddling with the karaoke machine.

Aspen shook her head, smiling to herself as Harry leaned closer, his elbow resting on the arm of the chair. “She’s something else,” he said, his voice low and full of affection for the whirlwind that was Isobel.

“She really is,” Aspen agreed, her voice soft, as she sipped from her juice box again.

Harry straightened up and nudged her knee gently with his hand. “Come on. Let’s go raid the kitchen for some chips before she comes back and steals your lap again.”

Aspen laughed, setting her juice box down and taking Harry’s outstretched hand. His fingers curled around hers warmly, and he gave her a small squeeze as he led her toward the kitchen.

The noise of Zayn and Isobel arguing over song selections grew louder behind them, but Aspen felt herself relax as she stepped into the quieter space of the kitchen with Harry. The soft lighting contrasted with the vibrant energy of the living room, and for a moment, it was just the two of them.

Harry released her hand to open a cabinet, pulling down a couple of bags of chips. “What’re you in the mood for? Classic or something cheesy?”

Aspen leaned against the counter, watching him with a fond smile. “Cheesy, definitely.”

“Good choice,” Harry said with a grin as he grabbed the nacho-flavored chips. Then, without missing a beat, he turned back to her, his expression softening. “You holding up okay?”

Aspen nodded, her heart swelling at the quiet concern in his voice. “Yeah. I think I needed this. It’s been a good distraction.”

Harry stepped closer, setting the chips on the counter beside her. “I’m glad,” he said, brushing a strand of hair away from her face. “You deserve a good night, Asp.”

She smiled up at him, feeling the familiar warmth his presence always seemed to bring. “Thanks for being here.”

“Always,” he murmured, leaning down to press a soft kiss to her forehead. His lips trailed down to her temple, then cheek, and finally a small kiss to her lips. "I really like your outfit tonight. Really 's doing you wonders," Harry cheekily grinned. To that, she tilted her head.

Taking another sip of his beer and pulling a chip out, he shrugged. "Forgive me for my mouth, but your ass looks..." He puffed out a dramatic sound of air, eyes widening playfully before he fell into a chuckle at how the red rose up to her cheeks. "Phenomenal is the word I'd use. Feel's like it too," he smirked, taking another swig of his beer.

It wasn't like he was lying. No where near that. She did look great, she always did. The leggings she had wore the other day at the shop really proved it to him, too. But what could he say? He was a man after all. Harry loved every part of her, he was sure of it. And god, it drove him crazy to have felt her ass in his hands; how soft it was, how his hands weren't big enough to even begin to cover it.

Aspen swatted his chest and shushed him, looking back to check no one heard but she giggled nonetheless. "Harry!" He only shrugged his shoulders, setting his beer down to reach over and steal her juice box. "What's so good 'bout these, hm?"

The man wrapped his lips around the straw, and Aspen looked a longer than she would admit. He hummed in approval, nodding his head. "Definitely tastes better than vodka, I'll tell you that," he laughed.

Aspen rolled her eyes, though her smile betrayed her amusement. “Alright, alright. Give it back.,” she said, reaching for her juice box, but Harry held it just out of her reach with a mischievous grin.

“Oh? Or what?” he teased, leaning slightly against the counter as he took another exaggerated sip.

Aspen stepped closer, crossing her arms and giving him a mock glare. “It was mine first. Give it."

Harry chuckled, lowering the juice box but holding it out of reach again just as she made a grab for it. “Only if you say, ‘Harry, you’re the best boyfriend ever.’”

Aspen let out an exasperated laugh, shaking her head. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Ridiculously great,” he corrected, winking at her.

“Fine,” Aspen said, rolling her eyes again. “Harry, you’re the best boyfriend ever. Happy?”

Harry’s grin widened as he finally handed her the juice box. “Ecstatic,” he said, leaning down to press a quick kiss to her forehead. Though, he ended up reaching behind him to get a box of his own. He'd rather babysit a juice box than a beer.

Aspen took a sip, watching him over the rim of the box as he picked up his juice again and leaned back against the counter, casual and self-assured. The soft glow of the kitchen lights caught in his curls beneath the backward cap, and the way he cradled the box in one hand with his other shoved into the pocket of his flannel made him look effortlessly cool.

She tilted her head slightly, taking in the scene, and an idea popped into her head. Her fingers itched for her phone, and she couldn’t help but smirk at the thought.

“Stay just like that,” she said suddenly, pulling her phone from her pocket.

Harry raised a brow, his lips curving into a curious smile. “Why? You gonna take a picture of your handsome boyfriend?”

Aspen nodded, biting her lip to suppress her own grin. “Exactly. You look too good right now not to document it.”

Harry chuckled, adjusting his stance slightly, clearly playing it up for her. “Alright, snap away, love. I’m ready for my close-up.”

She rolled her eyes at his theatrics but couldn’t help the soft laugh that escaped her as she angled her phone. The camera captured the way his hat framed his face, his relaxed yet confident posture, and the mischievous glint in his eyes.

After snapping a few shots, Aspen glanced at her screen, satisfied with how the photo turned out. “Perfect,” she said softly, almost to herself.

“Lemme see,” Harry said, leaning closer to peek at the screen.

Aspen turned it toward him, and he let out a low whistle. “Not bad. You’ve got a good eye, Asp.”

She smiled, a small blush creeping onto her cheeks. “I might post it,” she admitted shyly.

Harry’s grin grew. “Oh, you’re posting me to the ‘Gram now? That’s big, Asp. I feel honored.”

Aspen giggled, shrugging. “I just... I like this side of you. It’s nice to share.”

Harry set his juice down and pulled her gently into his side, his arm draping over her shoulders. “Well, I’m glad you want to. Just make sure you tag me so I can brag about my gorgeous girlfriend.” He kept his eyes on her fiddling thumbs on the screen. Aspen laughed, leaning into him as she fiddled with her phone, already drafting a caption in her head.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

It was Harry's turn on the microphone now. He stood with Zayn, both of which near stumbled up to grab the mics and choose a song.

"This goes out to our lovely ladies, and I guess Aspen and Isobel, too." Zayn laughed out, pointing at each person in the "crowd". The sultry melody of 'Careless Whisper' began to play through the speakers, and Aspen sat up in excitement. She was so ready to hear Harry sing and she was kind of shocked, not taking him as someone who listened to this kind of music. He lifted the beer in his hand and started off, dramatically closing his eyes and tilting his body up.

Aspen giggled softly, looking over at Isobel who was already making fun of them. Zayn soon chimed in to the next verse, and they swapped before Harry came to begin the catchy chorus himself. His voice was kept low, dripping with his accent but he carried the words out so thick and heavenly that Aspen swore would make her whip her head around if she wasn't already watching.

"Tonight the music seems so loud, I wish that we could lose this crowd," Harry sang out, his finger lifting off the neck of the beer bottle to point at Aspen with his lopsided grin and a wink before he continued. Her face flushed and she rolled her eyes, tucking the pillow in her lap further against her while she took in the show in front of her.

He really was a good singer and performer, she thought. There was absolutely nothing Harry was bad at. The man seemed to take phenomenal photos, had an angelic voice, and brought life behind the microphone and tattoo gun with ease. That was her Harry.

The uproar of clapping and laughter filled the room when they closed out their song and bowed dramatically. Zayn blew kisses to the crowd and pretended to catch flowers before they both stumbled back to their partners. Harry took his seat next to Aspen now, Isobel having scurried off to Zayn.

The girl grinned as she looked up at her very tipsy boyfriend, her hand coming up to brush his cheek lightly. "That was incredible, H. Who would've thought?"

Harry only chuckled, taking her hand on his face into his after leaning into her touch a few moments. He pressed a series of kisses over her knuckles. His eyes were slightly red, noticeably droopy but also slightly puffy. "Thank you, my darling dearest." He poshed his accent up which only drew giggles from the both of them. Harry took a look around the occupied room, everyone deep in their own conversations four shots in. His eyes slowly met Aspen's again, and his hand gently dropped to rest on her knee. His thumb worked small patterns over the sheer material which sent a shiver down Aspen's spine.

"Come sit in m'lap," Harry's voice drew low in her ear. She looked around shyly, nodding but still raising the question. "My skirt, H..." She blushed, fiddling with the end of it. The only reason she needed the pillow in her lap in the first place was due to its revealing length when she sat down. It wasn't drastic, but it wasn't anything she was used to.

"It's okay, I'll cover you. Please?" Harry muttered his plea against her ear, his nose brushing through her soft hair. His lips turned into a smile once she gave in and he sat further back, taking her hand to guide her carefully onto his thigh. Harry hummed in approval, pulling the pillow back to sit up against the back of Aspen, in case her skirt rose. He set another small pillow in her lap and secured his arm around her, making sure it was okay. When she nodded, he pressed a lazy kiss to her shoulder and thanked her softly, just enough for her to hear.

Harry's other hand curled around the back of the pillow and rested on her hip, securing the pillow to her frame. He gently tapped his fingers and ran his fingers along the hem of her skirt where it met her sheer tight-covered thighs. Harry gently lifted the material only for it to snap back into place. The small motion was definitely not noticeable but it still made Aspen blush intensely.

Her arm came to wrap around his firm and broad shoulders, and Harry responded by leaning into her with ease. The comfort she brought him, especially while being intoxicated, was the best kind of overwhelming feeling. The man took his lip ring between his teeth while his chipped-nail polish fingers tapped along her thigh while they tuned in and participated in multiple conversations through the night.

Somewhere along the end of the night, Aspen had offered their home to the far drunk men, and Isobel. Zayn would obviously bunk with Isobel and Harry with Aspen, so that left plenty of room for the other three to crash. She kissed Harry's cheek softly before bidding him a temporary goodbye to grab blankets for the crew.

It only took about twenty minutes to tidy up their night-- toss the cups and bottles, put away the machine, and fix up the snacks. Harry trailed behind her, more sober than the rest but still tipsy, and offered helping hands which definitely brought Aspen relief. She in no way intended to wake up to deal with hangovers and a messy apartment. The girl set a bottle of Advil on the kitchen counter along with a note saying there was water in the fridge while everyone began to groan and slug around to find comfortable spots.

When Aspen and Harry got up to her room and she slipped out of her skirt, her crewneck still covering her, he scattered her face in kisses. She giggled and held his wrists, taking in each of his wet and sloppy kisses to her face and mouth.

"Alright, alright! Get in bed. I just have to change and I'll come snuggle." She ruffled Harrys curls after placing his hat neatly on the stand and handed him a pair of sweatpants she pulled from Isobel's clump of clothes in her room.

"These are Zayns, I'm pretty sure. Isobel has a bad habit of keeping all her junk in my room."

Harry sat up, taking the sweats with his droopy eyes on Aspen still. "You know," he started, slightly slurred but not the annoying kind, "you don't need pants. Jus' come lay down. I promise I'll behave," Harry flashed his lopsided grin. In his defense, she never slept well with pants on anyways. So who was he to stop her routine to feel comfortable?

Aspen debated, but it only took two seconds as she was bound to remove any pants she slipped into anyways. She nodded, picking up one of the oversized shirts she had and made her way to the bathroom to change into that and remove her makeup.

When the girl came back out, Harry was cuddled up with her pillow, his jeans discarded on the floor and the sweats clung low on his hips, which made her smile softly. The girl shut off the light in the bedroom and closed her bedroom door, making her way back into her bed. Finally. All she needed today was her bed and Harry, and now she had both.

Harry wasted no time and wrapped an arm around the girls waist to immediately pull her against his chest. She rolled and giggled softly, snuggling into him nonetheless. "You turn into a big baby when you drink, you know?"

The man peeped one eye open to look down at her and closed them again with a grumble, snuggling into her and burying his nose into the sweet scent of her hair. "Yeah, yeah. Whatever, baby." Aspen hummed, the harsh thump sound of his heartbeat filling her ears before it gradually slowed and his breathing became more shallow.

Harry was long gone and fast asleep, and Aspen followed quickly behind.

---

fun fact, 'darling dearest' is the name of a fanfiction i wanted to write about italy!harry :p

#harry styles #fanfic #one direction #zayn malik #niall horan #fanfiction #wattpad fanfiction #wattpad #louis tomlinson #harry styles fanfiction #smut #harry smut #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles writing

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