#Haven't wrote shit in literal years

[cheezyharu]

Random night chat

My cousin randomly asked if I write fanfic or not and I was like. Haha yeah I sure do write *sweeps my ancient ass Zelda fic deeper under the couch*

Anyways fucking hits you with a quick thing for World Ender and Infinite Strife, for the funny.

It was a quiet night in the world of Arcaea, perhaps even more quiet than usual. Aside from the entire commotion caused by a certain airship captain and a navigator from Lanota, there isn’t much for World Ender to do aside from the usual paperwork. But “usual” for him means sitting in place from morning to late night, and even later whenever he has to attend a duel request from Guests. But the point is, he is done with work, and he is more than ready to go and rest from sticking his eyes into those pieces of paper now.

But strangely, he isn’t that sleepy yet, and so he found himself wandering into the garden that Arcana Eden had been taking care of, and lay down on a patch of grass.

He looked up to the sky, head empty: “night” is just a figurative term in Arcaea, where the sky is perpetually white for as far as anyone could see, and the only notable detail aside from that are the streams of Light and Conflict memory shards floating in the sky, ever so occasionally twinkling like the “stars'' he had seen in several memories stored in the castle. 

“Oh? Don’t expect to see you here.” Interrupted by the voice, World Ender annoyingly looked up from his spot. “Ah. Hello, Infinite Strife.” He said as he noticed the girl with a pink rose growing over her eye standing near him.

“Hello hello!” The girl, Infinite Strife, exclaimed, “I thought you would go to sleep at this time?” She asked as she flopped over next to him.

“Don’t feel sleepy, so I figured I should probably visit Eden’s garden for once.” World Ender answered.

“Riiiiiiight, pretty sure this is the first time you’re here since Eden introduced it to us?” Strife noted, before smirking, “I just honestly find it remarkable that our ‘residential sleepy boy’ finally decided to go anywhere but his office or the living quarters.”

“Oh shut it,” He refuted “Isn’t that better than Ms. ‘I work and sleep anywhere but in my own office or the living quarters’?” “No it isn’t!” She denied.

“Yes it is.”

Strife huffed, turning away from World Ender. It was quite awkwardly quiet after that, until Infinite Strife began talking again “...Glad to see that you’re outside enjoying yourself for once.” 

“Whatever you say.”

“I’m kinda serious when I said that, you know?” She continued “It’s pretty concerning knowing that the only places you ever go to is work and sleep… And maybe occasional duels but that felt like a once in forever thing, and we’re basically immortal, Ender!”

“You have to take care of yourself, you know? Things getting too repetitive might make you lose your mind! Common, have we learned nothing from the incident with Ether Strike and Axium Crisis!?” She ranted on, yet World Ender didn’t answer, opting to let the conversation die out by itself. 

After that comment, Infinite Strife turned towards the eternally white sky that he had been looking at. The silence between them now felt much less awkward, and now that she had the time to admire the sky, she had to admit: that though it may not be the most beautiful sky in the Tower, it was more than enough for her.

“Hey, World Ender…” She said, yet heard no reply from her companion. She quickly glanced over to him, only to find out that he had already fallen asleep for god knows how long. “...” She paused in surprise, before softly sighing “Oh nevermind, you need rest anyways.” and returned her gaze to the sky. Soon, she found her eyelids slowly dropping, and she decided to close her eyes for a short while.

…

That next morning, Arcana Eden found herself pausing as she looked at her fellow friends, Infinite Strife, and World Ender, sleeping soundly on a patch of grass in the middle of the garden.

“Well, first time seeing this,” Pentiment commented. “Never expected to see Ender anywhere outside of his office.” “There’s a first time for everything I guess.” She chuckled lightly.

[tenrose]

I gave up, the website is too shitty, literally nothing functions. Idk if the payment really failed or if those suckers are just not able to properly write 'it's sold out'

Now that I'm slightly annoyed...

I'm gonna rant.

First of all theaters can go fuck themselves if they are not able to provide proper services. The cinema I'm talking about in particular is not indie by the way, it's one of the biggest chains here (fuck you UGC) so the bare minimum they could do is provide with actual functional website so people can actually use it and make reservations. Don't even get me started on the price. 11,60€ for me to fucking go out and see people???? And we know seats aren't as good as they used to be in the past. Don't know about the snack prices, I bet it costs two kidneys.

That being said...

FUCK STREAMING PLATFORMS TOO OR EVEN ESPECIALLY

obviously I ain't paying for any. I won't pay for 10 different platforms, and especially not Amazon they can literally rot in hell. Don't even get me started on netflix. I used to pay sometimes back then. Honestly they had something. They used to do an actual effort and trying to show different stuff. They let creative direction to their writers. We wouldn't never have sense8 with today mentality tbh. Everything is just a reboot, a book adaptation emptied from its substance, a reboot, and book adaptation a reboot, a book a- you see the thing. I mean I shouldn't be bitching as pretty much never watch anything new for years so what do I know? I mean I would like to, but every time I watch a trailer, I'm tired just by watching it. Latest exemple I'm thinking about is the three body problem... Like having read the book just watching the trailer you could see the Americanism all over it... For a chinese book. And it's the problem with everything. I mean American TV shows have always be like this, maybe being younger I wasn't aware back then idk. But it feels so empty, so soulless? They can give me all the diversity they want, that doesn't change that it's still empty. And for TV shows (actually I'm talking more specifically about TV shows cause I'm not a big cinephile so I don't have the legitimacy to criticise) I know it's because of that stupid ass 8 episodes format. I've already talked about it. But it's literally draining the whole industry imo. Also writers clearly having little creative freedom since they have to make stuff that sells. But yeah, TV shows lasted physically and in memories because we were watching them slowly instead of this boulimie stuff we have now. Everything is like consume, forget, consume forget and pay shit ton of money.

And I'm thinking I am actually not built for this shit. I felt so burn out not being able to enjoy anything. So now I don't even try. I don't try new shows cause it's not worth it even when there's an actual good one. Because it's gonna be cancelled anyway. Who wants to emotionally invest in shows that get cancelled (I did so many time).

But when I do.

Be sure I will pirate the shit out of it. None of these industries deserve our money.

To finish on a positive note, if there's one thing I'm really happy for in the end. It's books. Sure the book industry is oversaturated too and there's ton of shit to criticise too (but I won't here). But it's so vast there are books everywhere for everyone, and even if tomorrow not a single book would be published (which I don't believe in), there are enough books for my entire life anyway. But yes books, even if formatted too (looking at us french snobs with our novel format), are like the only place writers can still let go of their creativity. Plus you can have cheap books (I'm starting to get there) and obviously free books thanks to libraries, and also you can pirate books too. Yes I pirate books too but tbh it doesn't even compensate how much I spend buying books so I'm not feeling guilty and I either pirate popular books or old books (if they are really old it's free anyway). But yes if you go out unlike me go buy books if you have money, to your local bookstore, or if you can't library is your way.

Reading is my anchor ⚓

[jankwritten]

Actually, I don't think I'll be altering it, necessarily. I think that what I'm going to do is exactly what the show did - some Fuckshit that allows People to Come Back. Because Altea randomly reappears, and I think that Allura's energy should be allowed to come back too. The episode is titled The End Is the Beginning. I call bullshit that the lions just DISAPPEAR. I call bullshit that there is no more need for a defender of the universe. ALL realities were reestablished, and we had SOLID PROOF that all it took was one person, one event, for everything that happened to happen again. There would still be war. There would still be need for something like Voltron, even with the Atlas and the next generation of fighters. Even if it's not the current paladins - Voltron shouldn't just disappear. That ending is dumb, sorry.

That being said - holy shit. I genuinely loved that whole experience and I feel kind of bad for the people who let expectations and silly plot points blot out the whole show for them. Was it dumb at times? Yeah. Do I agree with the way that things went and how it ended? No! But that doesn't mean the show itself sucks or anything like that. This is the whole reason fandom spaces exist, or, part of the reason: so people can love the source material, and change what they don't, if need be. Like, that's the whole reason fanfiction exists IMO.

So, uh, anyway. If anybody has a pirated copy of VLD just lying around and uh....wants to just kick that my way in case it ever gets demolished off the internet.......i would love you forever and ever LMAO.

Wow. Just wow.

[weirdly-specific-but-ok]

Pt III good omens but i STILL SOMEHOW haven't watched it (and i'm increasingly passive aggressive)

i'm now basically held hostage adopted as mascot by this fandom. it's fine i'm fine *SIGNALS FOR HELP DESPERATELY*

Alright fuckers I swear this time I'm going to get some shit right. Without further ado, here's my third attempt at a good omens summary:

Everything everywhere is queer all at once

Angel Aziraphale and demon Crowley on earth likey each other

The car is a bentley and it is BLACK not silver and everyone is very upset about this. my bad yall it was reflecting light therefore i guessed more silver than black but I'm not Anish Kapoor take your black.

Then it is yellow, and aziraphale likes it. crowley preferred the black because he's a flamboyant emo.

God is a deadbeat absentee parent and you are all children of divorce.

There's a naked archangel and they cause problems for the husbands somehow. By being naked? By being an archangel? By being at their doorstep? Who knows not me

They were actually married for 6000 years, they just are the last to know about it.

Crowley is on fire. Like, he's slaying for sure, but also he is literally on fire, like Aziraphale's bookstore.

The actors like I said before are Michael Sheen and David Tennant but this is the place where I finally admit that I don't actually know who is whom. I'm going to assume Michael is Aziraphale because Michael sounds angel-y and David is Crowley because uh Michaelangelo made David and was gay for him.

Terry Pratchett is not fictional.

He co-wrote the book with @neil-gaiman, who IS fictional, because he does not have social media. Several of you have assured me that he is in fact a fandom inside joke. I like to think he would be proud of me.

They adopt a preteen and Crowley gives him bad advice.

At some point a baby was delivered to someone and was exchanged for the son of Satan. Idk if the baby is the preteen, or the son of satan is the preteen, or neither. This could be a fanfic, I have no way of differentiating the fanfic from canon on tumblr, except that the canon is weirder.

Crowley does not go down a chute. He goes down a telephone cord after making himself microscopic to pole dance on a pin with shroom-induced backgrounds.

During this his stage name is Disco Tony. Get it king go slay you're making better life choices than I am tbh.

Aziraphale is a biblically accurate angel, and you have all gone to extensive lengths to prove this to me. I understood nothing, but there you go.

It's all very queer, just like the fandom.

Crowley is a retired demon but he still sins by breaking the speed limit.

They eat at fancy restaurants and bicker but like in a sexual undercurrent way.

Crowley gives Aziraphale a private dance that is not a lap dance, it is an apology dance, but not in a kinky way, until it is.

Their haircuts keep changing and range from 'this is acceptable and gay' to 'i let a drunk chimpanzee take gardening shears and a blowtorch to my hair'

It's all ineffably queer my good fellows

Everyone keeps trying to convince me Neil Gaiman is the villain yeah no guys I know it's really you. Y'all be like 'SEASON TWO BROKE ME' and then you're making headcanons to make it sadder yeah I see you mmhm.

There is a final fifteen. It is sad. What is it? No one told me.

The demon turns goats into crows and the angel turns them back and then children are turned into newts (does the angel turn them back? who cares not yall) and the demon was the snake in the Eden garden and everyone's furry game seems to be on point.

There are a rather lot of children. I have not seen them. But I am assured they are there. They are, guys. I assume they were turned into the alcohol Aziraphale and Crowley drink or something.

There was an apocalypse plotline. It was averted. It is not important. You don't talk about plotlines in this fandom, no sir.

Crowley doesn't want to go to heaven. Aziraphale is sad.

The kiss is not nice, just like this fandom. It is queer, just like this fandom. It is sad and desperate and masochistic, just like this fandom.

Aziraphale doesn't want to stay back with Crowley. Crowley is sad.

Season 2 ends. Fandom is sad.

Everyone's sanity is hinging on the promise of a happy ending in season 3. Good luck guys.

Y'all better appreciate this. I can't even boast to my mother about this legacy of mine, hey mum your son has been held hostage kidnapped inducted into a cult adopted by a fandom he's not part of look he's winning at life.

[freakcliff]

iwtv universe dashboard simulator

girlmand reblogged

😶‍🌫️gaysexinthecity Follow

not saying vampires are real but i think Daniel Molloy gets way too much shit . like if i was a pulitzer prize winning journalist in my seventies and some guy called me and was like im a vampire want an interview i wouldn't hesitate either. fuck man sure tell me about being a vampire. i'll believe you

🎆 magical-swiftie

reading Interview with the Vampire rn and Claudia and Madeline are sooo Long Face core

#now that i think of it a lot of tvl's songs fit this book really well #like #'she gave me life I gave her death'??? # that's so them!!!

🏞️ girlblogg1ng

btw if you're still listening to the vampire lestat, unfollow me now. and like, seriously consider why you're giving plays to a guy who appropriates ancient egyptian history for his vampire schtick, it's honestly sickening

#the vampire lestat #tvl #maintagging because people need to see this honestly #.txt

🌄sampire

keep seeing ppl try to cancel tvl for things hes said to his fans or how he talks about ancient egyptian mythology and not that song where he talks about fucking his mother. like im not crazy right he wrote a whole song about how he fucked his mother

💟 stingorarr

"we are your children/but what do you give us/is your silence/a better gift than the truth?" sounds like it should be some ancient Greek poetry but it's literally in a song by the vampire lestat!!!

it just hits so hard... like your parents gave you nothing but maybe the truth would be more unbearable than silence...

#tvl #the vampire lestat #twmbk #those who must be kept

sampire reblogged danielmxllxy

🌫️ beatlesrpf Follow

please tell me you guys arent serious about the vampire lestat. please tell me youre not stanning a man who wrote "im an actor in my makeup, i get fatter when we break up"

#guys please #this is worse than the tortured poets department

🤖 carrieblogging Follow

Based on your likes!

Hey, Tumblr, I need a little help here?

So, my best friend has been acting a little weird lately. Like, his sleep schedule has gotten really strange (stranger than normal 😅), and I haven't seen him without sunglasses on in a week?

His diet has changed, too, like he used to always be snacking whenever I'd call him, but now he doesn't eat anything that I can see.

He even cancelled our tickets to ComicCon!! I've been waiting to meet up with him for years, and now he's just bailed on me?!? I'm mad, but honestly more worried than anything....

#carrie speaks

🌌 marbellina124

guys I think I've found the vampire Armand at the MET 😏😂

#it doesn't match the dates from the book so like #yeah #but imagine.... #parisian mutuals you have a power that can be used

interview-with-the-glampire reblogged wormyworms

🪱 wormyworms Follow

mmm tbh the only reason i *don't* believe vampires are real is because if *i* was interviewing two vampires to write a book about their life? i would not be leaving that house without their fangs in my neck and eternal life. just saying

🌇 interview-with-the-glampire

understandable but have you considered. if I went to interview two vampires and got immortality and vampire sex out of that deal I wouldn't go around letting everyone know :/

danielmxllxy reblogged sampire

🌌 marbellina124

so were all in agreement he fucked that vampire right

#oh I think he fucked AT LEAST two of those vampires #iwtv #rb

[kinardsevan]

i wrote a whole ass psychology breakdown (for the first time in FOREVER) about the break-up. enjoy (if you so choose):

so I've been reading a lot in relation to Tommy's speech during the break-up (and have actually gotten through the scene several times now, mostly as a creative reference for these fix-it fics. I think one of the first things that I've seen completely tossed aside (that bothers the shit out of me as someone with over a decade of therapy treatment and a psychology degree) is whatever trauma Tommy carries.

We know that there are issues with his dad. We know Lou's lore behind him is that he spent a lot of his childhood alone. We don't know anything in relation to his mom, but she may or may not be the cause of more trauma. We know that his way of dealing with abuse of authority is to shut down and follow the leader, which is likely a mix of his military time and growing up in his father's household (and when I say this, I mean from what we saw of him under Gerrard's command). This is a person who has put years into getting himself into some version of okay after all that he's endured, and we know he still generally does it on his own.

To that end, here, have my breakdown of the break up (roughly right about the time Buck says "I want you to move in with me"). (with pictures!)

Prior to the offer, we watch Tommy process through Evan's explanation about his relationship with Abby, things being transformative for him, etc. We have to bare in mind that this is where we also start to get what I've dubbed "starry-eyed Buck". He's so in the throes of what he's saying that I don't think he's really considering the connotation of his words. At the same time, Tommy doesn't know what lore Evan is about to drop him about this prior relationship. Remember that he now has to contend with the fact that they both have strong opinions on their relations toward Abby, and Tommy can't know if their feelings toward her as a person will be the same. I think Lou played this beautifully, appearing anxious and apprehensive as Tommy listened to Evan explain that Abby was transformative for him. Then he shifts into how Tommy has been transformative for him (which, he has, and we as the audience know this, but we understand it from a bigger POV than what Evan is saying with his words.)

There have been posts about Evan putting Tommy up on a pedestal throughout this speech (and really, possibly even sooner, but this is where we really get it expressed). Tommy tries to rectify this to a degree by countering "I wasn't always that way".

To that end, we then get Evan telling him "I know, and it just makes me admire you more." Tommy gives a bashful smile, clearly heartened by the statement, and even opening his mouth as though he's going to respond to it in some form. It would be interesting to know what was on Lou's mind of what (if anything) he thought would've been said there. Are there lines that were removed in this scene? Was 'I love you' actually going to come up? We can't really know. However, there's this part of me that thinks that Tommy thought that they were having a discussion on the depth of their relationship which would've possibly brought those 7 letters to the equation. Either way, this entire bit of facial acting is SO important, because it speaks volumes about how Tommy feels about how Evan feels about him.

From there we get the "I want you to move in with me, and this, THIS, THIS is such an important point for this ENTIRE scene. It's two seconds, but it holds SO much for the narrative. This man, who seems to be on the verge of ...something, clearly (who knows if I Love You was on his mind, or if it was just the fact that Evan was expressing how much he cares about him.) The reason this is all so important is THIS REACTION:

Now again, we don't know Tommy's trauma, but the joy literally drops out of his expression and shifts to panic. Now, speaking solely from the standpoint that these two haven't even said "I love you" yet, his boyfriend steamrolled over him from a possible declaration of love straight to moving in together without discussing semantics. Further, it's not even "I want to live together", it's "move in with me". We don't know much about Tommy's house (because these shitheads haven't built him a set yet), but we know that he has a HOUSE. With a GARAGE. Buck lives in a LOFT. Regardless of how much of an asshole this makes me sound like, it's crawling with red flags. It comes across as "fit more into my life" instead of "lets do this thing together". Further, if that's not bad enough, mention of getting engaged and married is thrown at Tommy as well, which holds two major bits of information: One, these are on Evan's mind. We've NEVER heard him talk about getting engaged or married to anyone. This speaks to the importance of their relationship to him, but the lack of I Love You also speaks on his own trauma. If we truly are getting the rom-com trope, at some point there's likely to be a conversation about why he lept over it (*cough* Taylor, his parents *cough cough*). Meanwhile, as he's continued in his starry-eyed speech, this is what Tommy is giving:

Now for those who don't know how to spot it, this my friends is a PANIC RESPONSE. The shift forward, the move to get up, the literal deep breath. He's having a panic attack. Now, obviously we don't know what brought this on, but god-willing, we WILL get the answers.

Now, to his own point, Tommy doesn't just straight up pop Evan's pink bubble. He does express that it's a sweet sentiment, but that it's a bad idea. To which point we get:

"Evan, that is so sweet. But I can't move in with you." "And why not?" Because. I know how this ends." "Uh, what-what's that supposed to mean?"

At which point, we clearly get the qualities about Evan that Tommy likes. "Incredible guy. Big-hearted. Hot as hell. Impulsive." I don't feel that the expression here matters as much as his tone of voice, because we can see on his face that he's expressing these qualities from a good place. The next point of reference isn't until Tommy's next line, when he says that Evan's reaction is out of things being "new and exciting".

To that end, the way Evan is talking to him makes this statement valid. He's not talking to Tommy like they've been together for six months and have built a relationship that should be moving in this direction. (For the tenth time I will repeat, he couldn't even dignify whether he was in love with Tommy when Josh asked).

Furthermore, I think when you consider this part of the scene, you also have to consider the strain in Tommy's voice. Something about those concepts (living together, getting engaged, married) is terrifying. It definitely gives the impression that Tommy has been faced with some version of this before and he got burned. Why is this important? Because of this:

"I'm saying no matter how bad I want it to be, I'm not your last." Those 9 words are important on their own, but when you couple them with the expression on Tommy's face and what we've just seen him go through, there's a clear point to the fact that he's been through this before. I also think that there can't be enough importance placed on the way he intonates "how bad". This is not a man saying no because he doesn't want to. He's backpedaling because he's sure that he's going to get burned. We get this point further driven home with this exchange:

"I'm your first." "But hey, they can be the same thing." "But, they usually aren't."

See this doesn't read to me as someone who's scared because he knows Evan has never been with another man. They're both fully grown adults who have had multiple relationships. What this speaks to me (now) as, is someone who has let someone convince him before that he would be their forever, that they were all in, and then broke him. When you include his childhood trauma and whatever abandonment issues it's left him with in correlation with all of this, yes, it's still an extremely biphobic set of lines. But in the context of what he's expressing and why, it's not about telling Evan he needs more experience, it's about telling him that he doesn't believe that he'll want to stay settled down with him six months, a year, etc., down the road. And THAT my friends, is abandonment issues 101. "Everyone else has left, so it doesn't matter that I'm in love with you, because you will leave too, and I need to protect myself from that."

Following that, we get this: "if I were to move in with you, you wouldn't mean to, you wouldn't plan for it, but you'd end up breaking my heart."

This line is SO important, right next to Evan's exchange with Josh about his relationship with Tommy. Why? Because even though neither of them have said it, it spells out that these two are in fact in love with each other, even if they haven't said it.

"I don't think I could deal with that." Tommy is fucking GONE on him. He's expressing that if he gave himself fully over to what Evan's referring to, losing him would break him. Again, we don't have the full picture on his trauma, but we know there's a mountain there. It's also worth noting again, that the intonation he uses in these statements clearly come across as someone trying to reign in their emotions and keep it together. That says to me that we're dangeously close to touching his trauma.

I don't feel like I have to include the final few bits of the scene in gifs because they're all over the site now, but the next line gives over the fact that he hasn't really been open about his trauma to Evan, given that his immediate response to expressing all of this is "I should go". This kind of reaction is generally brought on as not being accepted for having certain feelings. Now, obviously Evan is caught off guard by the entire interaction, the same way Tommy was (but for different reasons), so we have to take all of that into account when we think about the fact that instead of countering Tommy's logic, he asks instead if Tommy is breaking up with him.

Body language is also so important here for Tommy. His shoulders are hunched in, we see him wipe his face (meaning there are likely tears), and when he turns around, he's so caught up in whatever wave has taken him over that it takes Evan asking him for Tommy to state "yeah, I guess I did" about breaking up. Further, there's the fact that he states that he didn't see the break-up coming, which goes back to my point at the top of this post, that he clearly thought the conversation was going one direction, and instead it goes the other. From this point, we have Evan reeling, because he wants to create more of a life with Tommy, while Tommy is shutting down because of whatever is holding him back.

Finally, as I've referenced before, we get this line:

"Should've known that parking spot was too good to be true."

That line makes zero sense out of context, but in consideration of someone trying to lighten the weight they're carrying (which you can literally see by the way he has his hand on his neck, which you generally only see people do as a stress response). You can also double entendre this statement that getting to be with Evan was too good to be true. We get that little inhale with the smile, and I swear to God the only time I've seen that kind of reaction is right before someone cracks.

And then in closing, we get the "I'll see you 'round, Buck," our closing gut punch. Evan is still reeling, clearly. His face is very "what the hell just happened". Tommy is clearly not okay. This entire scene has opened an entire can of worms on them without a whole lot of answers.

Now, I've owned the fact that basically from the end of 806, I felt like this had to be a swerve, and that there has to be more to the story. I've also pretty much owned the fact that if the writers did actually just do this for kicks and don't have a resolution for it, I may not keep watching. However, in the context of the fact that, for the moment, I'm choosing to put hope in some kind of resolution, these lines make so much more sense. It is worth noting though, most people in the fandom, let alone the general audience, aren't going to psychologically break this shit down line-by-line. They're not going to lean into whatever trauma Tommy has that we don't know about yet. Its why the internet has been a mess since Thursday night. But it's also why I talk about how, when this situation gets resolved (because right now I refuse to say if), Buck has to give up the loft and give more of himself. Tommy, by the nature of the show, has fully immersed himself in Evan's life, but we haven't seen or heard mention of Evan doing so at all in Tommy's life. That doesn't mean he hasn't, but we haven't gotten any version of that. So when I say Evan needs to give things up... it's about matching what he's asking Tommy to give up. Because at the end of the day, when this circles back around, he's effectively going to be asking Tommy to trust that he won't break his heart like others have, and when you have a lifetime of abandonment issues and have learned to cope by being hyper-independent and alone, moving in the opposite direction is more terrifying than anything else. ESPECIALLY when you love that person, which we saw Tommy spell out. Evan has the ability to break him (and probably already is via this cut-off-at-the-quick break up.)

So, I'm really gonna need these shit heads to figure out that they'll be more miserable apart than they'd ever be together.

That's all. Thanks for coming to my TED talk.

[hollowdeath]

obsession (hjp)

pairing: harry james potter x fem!reader AU (18+)

summary: harry potter (19) is attending university after hogwarts, and isn't recovering well from the war. completely alone, harry soon grows attached to you, the girl from his potions class. however, his attachment quickly turns to obsession, and harry isn't sure how much longer he can be just friends.

content warning: smut!!! perverted thoughts/acts, shame, masturbation, stalking, obsession, yearning/pining, intoxication, jealousy, stealing panties, dry humping, cumming in pants, oral sex, overstimulation, penetration, creampie

a/n: sooo i wrote over 19k words in like 2 days. but i haven't written a proper fanfic in literal years so please be kind. heavilyyy inspired by "never have i ever" from @selfcarecap , please go read it when you have the chance!! this is very much a SLOW BURN, do not proceed if you do not thoroughly enjoy pining…ft. a shy, inexperienced, slightly obsessive university student harry who has jealousy issues and perverted tendencies but is still such a complete gentleman…some of this might not be book/movie accurate…sue me...

song: Do Friends Fall In Love? - Rachael & Vilary

harry's expectations of university weren't very high to begin with, but he didn't expect it to be this shit.

there were limited options for him since he had no desire of leaving the U.K. to further his career as an auror. and since the only 2 schools that offered a program for him were either an old, run-down campus in the middle of nowhere or an overpopulated city school known for its infamously average quidditch team, his decision wasn't difficult.

the dorms, however, made him reconsider entirely.

though harry was grateful to have a solo room, it was entirely bleak and smelled vaguely of mildew. one tiny window he's unable to open past a few inches and a depressing overhead fluorescent bulb was enough to have him searching the other university's dormitory information, only to be just as disappointed with the result.

harry gets over it quickly, as it becomes fitting to his mental state at the time. plain, cold, and unforgiving, harry feels like it's what he deserves to live in after everything he's seen.

to say harry hadn't been doing well after the war was a criminal understatement. his whole life had been leading up to and dedicated towards killing voldemort before he killed harry first. in that time, he held a purpose and drive to fulfill everyone's expectations of him. and, once he did, he was left with nothing.

voldemort had consumed harry's entire life, and the lives of everyone around him as well. though they technically both died, harry had the choice to live again. after he made that choice, he was never the same.

the relationships around him were changed forever. he lost friends. he lost family. he lost himself. and yet, life continued.

applying for university felt so silly to harry at the time. he had just fought in a war and died, and now he had to sign up for 9 a.m. transfiguration classes. to say he was uninterested was putting it lightly.

it didn't help that he knew no one there. it was nobody's first choice school by any means, and it didn't exactly have the best reputation. his classmates fizzled out into other schools or already had jobs, like ron…

ron and hermione. seems like lately wherever hermione went, ron followed. of course she got accepted into some of the most prestigious schools of magic in the world, with some practically begging her to pick them over the others.

in the end she chose westminster, a legendary university along the northern ireland coast that saw many great members of the ministry in its time. harry's school was practically the furthest it could've been from her all things considered.

ron worked for the ministry office in the area like his father, though he was more like an assistant or secretary than an active member. still, he was paid well and ultimately he and hermione were able to find a place near both of their priorities that worked well for them.

harry knew he wouldn't see them very often at this point. no matter, his relationship with them had long since changed, and not for the better. ron had lost his brother and hermione had lost her parents. once the calm settled after the storm, there was a lingering tension between him and them that went unmentioned for over a year before they split ways silently.

harry still talked to hermione towards the end, mainly to discuss ron and his grief. harry knew the growing coldness between him and his friend wasn't unjustified. harry felt a level of guilt that he previously thought was impossible when it came to fred, and though ron never out right blamed harry, it was just never the same between them.

harry knew their relationship wasn't completely at a loss. like hermione told him, it just needed time. once they both process what happened they can always come back to each other.

but for now, harry was alone. completely and utterly alone.

his first day of classes were confusing, boring, and packed with students. seriously, every seat in every lecture hall was filled, and the hallways were just a mess. the sidewalks weren't much better with too many people being too loud, walking too slow or too fast. in the end, harry was exhausted by the time he showed up for his last class of the day.

another packed room despite his effort to be there earlier than he planned. rather than a lecture hall like all his other classes that day, this last one was set up with plenty of tables and cauldrons. potions. harry loved this class at hogwarts. as his eyes scanned the room for an empty seat, he felt eyes fixated on him from every direction.

though he looks like the same harry potter everyone's read about, he's completely different now. his once bright eyes and radiant smile have been replaced with eye bags and unkempt facial hair. both his short beard and his overgrown hair gave him a messy, disheveled appearance that was rougher than people remember. but, as always, the glasses had never left, and neither had his scar.

ignoring the curious glances and whispers, harry takes a seat towards the middle of the room at an empty table. as more students filed in, his table became the last place to sit. he couldn't help but feel like an outsider, his first day and he already had a reputation.

as the final bell rings, the last student comes walking through the doorway.

it's you.

you're walking quickly, rushing into the classroom just as the ringing of the bell comes to an end. right behind you is the professor, a man of small stature with an impressive beard yet bald head.

"ms. [y/l/n]." he simply states.

you stop in your tracks, a look of defeat crossing your face as you slowly turn to him.

"professor rodden." you respond cheerfully. "it's nice to see you."

he looks unimpressed with your tone.

"we should try to be a bit more punctual next class period, hm?" he asks condescendingly.

harry is taken aback by the immediately intense interaction between the two of you. there's clearly an established relationship there that doesn't seem to be positive.

he can't see the look on your face as your back is turned to him, but he can hear the forced smile in your voice as you cordially respond, "of course. my apologies."

you turn on your heel, facing harry as you quickly find your seat across from him at his table. with all eyes on you, harry looks away and at the front of the room towards professor rodden.

rodden had an indistinguishable look on his face about the situation, but quickly moved on with introducing the class. as he shut the door and began writing on the board, harry took a moment to look back at you.

somewhere in that time you had pulled out a book and ink pen as you began taking notes. your hair fell around your face as you concentrated on your penmanship; a slight furrow of your brows and pursing of your lips.

you were gorgeous. he couldn't deny it.

something about the way you got lost in your notes was so mesmerizing to him. the intense exchange between you and the professor seemed to have no effect on you as you continued to scrawl your thoughts onto parchment. harry couldn't imagine himself being so calm as to just begin jotting down notes immediately after such a conflict.

his eyes flickered from your concentrated expression to your ferociously moving hand, writing line by line in succession without so much as a second's pause. he had to admit he was impressed with you, but he wasn't quite sure how to describe it.

finally, you felt his curious gaze on you.

looking up at him, harry's struck with how beautiful your eyes were. his heart jumps along with his stomach, he's never had such a physical reaction to someone's features before. you're just, so…right. like everything about you just makes sense together.

harry's used to people recognizing him pretty quickly, mostly before he even sees them first. it almost feels like having a big sign taped to his back that says "harry potter, the boy who lived twice". but, you…you just looked at him. simply looking, nothing more.

he felt so see-through at that moment, like you were looking right past him. he could feel his heart thumping, and would be surprised if you couldn't hear it for yourself.

you give him the most casual smile in the world, barely an acknowledgement of his existence in that moment, and yet it fills him with something entirely warm and familiar. he's sure he looks completely lost staring at you, turning his head at the last moment to relieve you of his gaze.

it's a simple, introductory, first day of class. you're all let out half an hour early with no assignment other than to show up for the next, real class on wednesday.

as you're packing up to leave, harry is back and forth between introducing himself to you or letting you leave. surely you'll talk to him at some point during this class, right? especially if no one else seems to sit with you two for the rest of the semester.

but, as you turn your back to him to leave, he makes the split second decision that he can't let you leave without a proper introduction.

quickly gathering his books, harry follows you out the door along with the ridiculous amount of students flooding the halls. scrambling for a reason to talk to you, harry catches up to your left side as you look over at him with surprise.

"how does rodden have it out for you already, hm?"

it's a genuine question he has, but he's not sure it's a great topic to bring up during your first interaction.

looking up at him as you both walk away from the classroom, your cheeks go red as you chuckle dryly to yourself and look away. "oh, arthur?" you ask.

harry's shocked. not just at the way you're looking at him, but the boldness of calling your university professor by their first name so casually. he doesn't know how to respond.

"he's a total wanker," you say with a smirk. "had him 3 semesters in a row now and he just…ugh," you groan, rolling your eyes. harry is even more at a loss. he's surely never called anyone a wanker, let alone a professor, but he can't help himself from laughing at your frustration.

"oh? what's so bad about him?" harry asks as he continues to follow you outside, a cool breeze blowing your hair back in the most cinematic moment harry's ever experienced in real life. as you look up at him, your eyes catch the sunlight and practically melt him on the spot. his breathing hitches at your shy smile and rosy cheeks, and he just couldn't understand how a human could look like that so casually.

"honestly, he's not so bad. he's actually quite a good professor…" you say with a twinge of guilt, turning to look ahead of you. "he just doesn't like me, i guess. we don't see eye to eye, to put it kindly." you laugh it off.

harry doesn't understand. you seem like such a pleasure to be around, and he's only known you these past few minutes. how could anyone dislike you? especially when they're looking into those eyes.

he continues to walk with you, asking about your classes and what your schedule's like. no other classes together, to harry's disappointment, but it's because you're a year above him.

"wow, have any advice for a first year, then?" he asks. it feels like a bit of a silly question, but he just wants to keep talking to you.

you chuckle, like you do after everything he says. he's not sure what to make of it, hoping it's that you truly do find him that funny. "well, i guess i would just tell you to study constantly, keep to yourself, but don't take any shit." you smirk at him again.

he likes that advice. he can already tell you're the type to not let anyone push you around, like with rodden. he likes that about you. you're a bit more confident than him, and you're not afraid to be bold despite your naturally sweet, gentle nature. you're funny, witty, intelligent, and, of course, unbelievably beautiful.

harry just keeps coming back to it through your walking and talking together. every time he looks at you he instantly loses his place in time. it's like everything goes quiet for just that split second that you're looking at him. he's never felt like this, but he's practically addicted to the feeling after the 10 minutes it took for him to walk you to your next class.

before parting ways, he asks for your name. "well, it's nice to meet you then, [y/n]. i'm–" "harry, right?" you ask sarcastically, giving him a cheeky smile. normally that answer would have left him defeated, you already knowing who he was, but for some reason, it didn't feel so bad this time. you never acted like you knew him once this whole conversation. you just let him talk and ask questions without feeling like he was anyone special.

well, of course he felt special. when you looked at him, that is.

he didn't want to let you leave, it physically hurt him to say goodbye. but he wasn't about to creep you out already. no, he had to make a good impression with you. so, he simply turned around and walked away, knowing he would see you again soon.

and as harry walked to his potions class that next wednesday, he had the biggest pep in his step he's had in a while. you'd think there was a tree full of presents waiting for him in that classroom the way he practically jogged through the maze of people between him and you.

as soon as he walked in, he saw you.

how could you get even more beautiful than you were before? he's actually taken aback for a moment as he makes eye contact with you. his heart is so loud in his ears it's deafening. as he slowly makes his way towards the table left for you two, he can't help the goofy smile that spreads across his lips.

"[y/n]." he says, letting it roll of his tongue. you smile warmly at him, your eyes softening. "harry. it's nice to see you again," you chirp.

he's just mesmerized by you yet again, the way you say his name is like a song he never wants to turn off. he's pretty much in complete awe of you as he sits across from your seat.

you chat a bit before class starts, an introduction to your first experiment. professor rodden explains that each table of four will split into partners for each assignment. as harry instinctively looks at you, he's already meeting your eager gaze.

he can't help it when he smiles like a fool at you. he can just hardly believe someone as amazing as you would want to spend even more time with him.

after class, you gush to harry about how excited you are to be potion partners together. his face completely flushes as he tries to return the sentiment, thanking whatever luck he has in this universe to be deserving of this opportunity to be with you all semester, twice a week at least, not including outside studying and walking you to your next class.

that night, after exchanging numbers with you to "discuss class", he finds himself staring at the number you scrawled on a ripped piece of notebook paper along with your name. he just holds it for a while, tracing the curves of your name with his eyes. you're just so amazing to him in every little way.

weeks later, harry is a wreck.

you see, he's become, well…completely obsessed with you. every moment he spends awake is spent thinking about you. in the midst of hours-long homework sessions or mind-numbingly long exams, all he wants to do is think about you.

you two have become increasingly close over time, figuring out your commonalities and learning about each other's interests. you invited him to your dorm and he was amazed at your ability to dress up such a desolate space. it felt warm, inviting, and quickly became a common place for you two to spend your time together.

you also bonded over food, and would often meet up for lunches or dinners and sometimes even breakfast if you were up early enough to respond to his calls.

and you two were always studying together, you really inspired him to stay on top of his classes not only to keep up with you but to also impress you. he really admired your work ethic as a second year and would always ask for your help with assignments.

of course it was nice to have help, but he mainly just wanted you to sit closer to him, your breath hitting his cheek as you explained something complicated to him in your soft voice, pointing at the book that sat in his lap. you could read the most boring textbook to him and make it sound like the most interesting piece of literature in the world.

a lot of things he did were mostly just an excuse to have you pay attention to him in some way. if he felt a bit unwell, he'd play it up a bit to get your sympathy and a back rub. he still gets the most insane goosebumps thinking about your hands all over him.

if he was hungry, he was suddenly starvinggg and needed one of your amazing grilled cheese's made in the student common room kitchen. you would roll your eyes every time, reminding him that you don't do anything special to it, but he insists it's better because you make it specifically for him.

in short, he was head over heels for you. he pretty much knew that first day you two met that he was already smitten with you, but it took a while for him to fully realize just how deep he'd gotten himself into this.

not only had he learned your entire class schedule without asking you directly, he knew your schedule outside of class as well. not through any disrespectful tactics, he just so happened to always study at the library next to your dorm building with a perfect view of the door you go in and out of.

he also knew who all of your friends were, at least the ones he's seen you with so far. it's not difficult when the university yearbook practically gives away their books for free to get rid of them. that's also how he found out what clubs and organizations you're apart of, and knew exactly what to ask you to get you to talk about them with him.

see, some might see this and think harry's a bit creepy or overstepping some boundaries. and harry would agree.

he constantly feels guilty when it comes to his feelings for you. he's a complete gentleman when he's with you, but then he turns around and becomes this incessant stalker who needs to know what you're doing at all times.

that's not even the worst part. he feels so, so incredibly guilty about the thoughts he has of you.

harry's not one to feel shame from lust or masturbation, he doesn't have much experience with that stuff anyways so he never really understood the hype around it.

but now, things are different.

he's had random erections before, and he's gotten riled up from previous makeout sessions, but now, he was constantly horny.

all it took was an innocent look from you and he was hard. you often sat in your bed with him as you two studied and insisted on having a leg or arm touching him at all times, which made him completely hot and bothered. certain tones of voice you use or things you say to him can completely melt his brain on the spot.

this isn't meant to brag, harry felt truly awful for these one-sided thoughts. he felt like such a stereotypical man who thinks with his dick. the last thing he wanted was to make you think he saw you in a sexual way at all; he hated your stories about guys who only turned out to be sex fiends with no respect towards you. his blood boiled to think about it, actually, and swore to himself he would always be your friend first despite what he may feel towards you.

this is where the guilt was heaviest. you were constantly saying he was your best mate, one of your closest friends, someone you can really trust, and he held that so close to his heart. above all else, he cared about you so deeply. he wanted to keep you safe.

so when he started to think these thoughts or feel these feelings, harry beat himself up. how could he truly be a good friend to you if he was just so obsessed with you in every way?

you two had just finished up the last steps of your potion experiment for professor rodden's class in the library that harry frequented by your dorm building. as you and harry are talking and packing up to leave, you look out the wall of windows and laugh.

"hey, look. you can see my dorm perfectly from here." you say, pointing towards your building. harry freezes, feeling his mind go blank as you look back at him with a laugh. "little creepy," you say with a smirk, lifting your bag over your shoulder and the rest of your books in your arms.

harry is still frozen, terrified you're going to somehow figure out that that's exactly what he's been doing for the past month now.

"yeah, weird." is all he managed to get out.

as he walks you into your dorm, he barely has the door closed before you start taking your shirt off right in front of him, not even 3 feet away.

harry immediately turns around, letting the door close in front of him. "oh, sorry." he quickly mutters, his heart racing yet again. he didn't even see anything crazy, just the small of your back and the navy of your bra, but it was enough to immediately get him worked up.

he hears you laugh behind him, opening up your drawer. "you don't have to turn around, harry. i'm just changing my shirt." he can hear the smirk in your voice.

he's dumbfounded. all he's thought about for weeks is your body in front of him, and it's right here, and he can't bring himself to look. he feels each second pass by painfully slow, trying to answer himself as to why the fuck he's not turning around.

"okay, you can turn around now." you laugh as you roll your eyes at him. he slowly turns to you with an undoubtedly pale face and shocked expression.

you're standing at your drawer, new shirt fully on, and he can't help but feel a bit disappointed. he didn't want to make you uncomfortable by watching, but you seemed okay with it. he's a bit lost in his feelings before you start asking him about something completely irrelevant, taking his mind off the mini-show he just got for free.

that night he's lying in bed, room completely dark except his bedside lamp, and he's thinking of you. like always.

as he replays the moment you took your shirt off right in front of his eyes, he finds himself grabbing for his cock without even meaning to. his hand wraps around the shaft as he begins thrusting his hips, imagining it's your hand like he has so many times before. it only takes a few seconds of stroking and thinking about your blue bra before he's made a mess of himself.

cleaning up afterwards was always the most guilt-ridden part of the entire experience. it was bad enough he thought of you sexually and constantly got hard just from you looking at him or calling him a loser as a joke, but to actually jerk off to the idea of you is something else entirely.

he tried not to get too down about it, plenty of guys do this right? whats so wrong with it if it doesn't affect his relationship with you?

except, it does. harry doesn't know how much longer he can go without telling you how he feels. the guilt he feels every time you refer to him as your best friend, not knowing he spends almost every night cleaning up his own cum off his chest just from thinking about your smile. how would you feel finding out your so-called best friend had these perverted thoughts about you?

as harry falls asleep, he hugs his pillow and pretends its you, asleep in his arms, completely safe.

it's halloween, and harry's never been more excited.

you enthusiastically asked if you could do a matching costume with him, and he'd never been so quick to agree. wearing a matching costume with you to a university party was possibly the first step in becoming a real couple. he wasn't necessarily thrilled about going to a party, but he knew if he was with you he would enjoy himself no matter what.

you couldn't decide what you two should be until harry suggested pirates as a joke.

"oh my gosh, harry! that's perfect!" you said with a huge smile. harry laughed at you, shaking his head. "really? i was kidding." he deadpanned. you narrowed your eyes at him. "yes, really! i think it'd be so cute. and i have the perfect top."

harry gets excited once you say it's cute, and is just happy to be included in your plans.

you take harry shopping just a few days before the party to find pirate-like clothes and end up with a good collection of stuff. at the last minute, harry pays for everything you bought and you give him the biggest, warmest hug he's ever gotten.

yeah, that was enough for him to know this was worth it.

the night of the party, harry feels a bit ridiculous walking up to your dorm in such a billowy white button up and the most uncomfortable, oversized pants he's ever worn. to top it all off his bandana didn't look right on his head, so he embarrassingly knocked on your door and waited for your reaction to his failure of a costume.

when you opened the door, he was stunned into silence.

you were just. so. hot.

your hair was loose around your face under a perfectly tied bandana, an off-the-shoulder white top similar to his worn over a red lace bra, along with ripped fish net stockings under a tied skirt and, shit, a fucking garter wrapped around your thigh.

to say he was insanely turned on and completely stunned by your beauty was an understatement. he couldn't believe this gorgeous woman in front of him was dressed like this to match with him at a party in front of everyone. he just couldn't stop staring at you up and down, not caring if you noticed him practically drooling over you.

"you look so cute!" you exclaimed at the sight of harry standing at your door.

he looked up at you, your soft eyes wide with excitement as you clasped your hands together. you motioned for harry to come in and opened the door further for him. he slid past you into your dorm room, intentionally breathing in your scent as he did, and practically fell apart at the seams. he was so, so attracted to you right now.

"but, let me fix that bandana." you say with a giggle. he turns around and you're already reaching for his head. his breath gets caught in his throat as your arms wrap around his head, retying the bandana tightly just below his hairline. you pull away a bit and smile at him before looking down at his shirt, reaching for that as well.

harry carefully watched your fingers begin to unbutton his white shirt, his world stopping in its tracks in this moment. he was so lost until you said, "gotta show off the chest hair."

as you continue to adjust his shirt with the top buttons undone, he can't help but admire your body and outfit from this angle, this close. everything worked together so well on you, and fit you perfectly in every spot. he felt like such a joke standing next to you, who could ever compare to such a goddess like yourself?

on your way to the party just outside of campus, you felt chilly in just a skirt and cropped top. harry noticed instantly. "cold?" he asks. you nod, crossing your arms in front of your chest as you start to shiver. harry instinctively wraps an arm around you before he can even process what he's doing. "uh, is this any better?" he inquires.

you look up at him with those damn eyes, and he's lost once again. "a lot better." you say sweetly.

at the party, you stick with him for a bit until a few friends pull you away to do some shots. he gives you a reassuring smile as he tells you to go, and he watches your barely-covered ass as you run along.

and so do a few other guys.

harry notices at least 3 guys around him who watch you leave, and at least one of them makes some snide comment about you to a buddy. his blood boils like he's never felt before. he could feel himself tensing up as he imagined what he would do to them if they ever tried to touch you.

harry takes a deep breath and finds a bathroom, running some water over his face to calm down. you were not his girlfriend. not even close. but he felt like any other guy who looked at you was looking at what was his. he was there for you 24/7, he knew your favorite everything, he saw how beautiful you were in all your states, not just dressed up at some costume fraternity party, and though that gives him no right over you, he just couldn't help but feel protective over someone who means so much to him.

you find each other again at some point during the party, and you're a bit drunk. harry finds it somewhat amusing at first, but quickly hates the way those guys are looking at you again. so, he wraps your arm around his waist, tells you it's time to go home, and you mindlessly abide.

on the way home he's completely in awe at the feeling of your arm wrapped around his waist, and his around your shoulder. he felt like you looked like a proper couple, matching costumes and all, and he loved that thought.

as he walked you into your room, you immediately began stripping off your accessories. he was caught in that same predicament he found himself in not too long ago. does he casually let you unclothe in front of him or turn around and give you the privacy you deserve?

he quickly decided on the latter and turned away, making sure the door was locked for your privacy. you started giggling infectiously, stumbling around behind him. "you ok?" he asked with a smirk, amused at the sound of you struggling.

"no, need helppp," you whine, slurring your words slightly while still giggling. harry freezes. he hadn't even considered that you might be too drunk to get undressed by yourself. he's even more conflicted than before.

"m-my help?" he asked. obviously he knew the answer, he just didn't feel right taking your clothes off of you while you were intoxicated. "well duhh…" you giggled, taking another stumbling step behind him.

what should he do? if he says no you might feel like he's annoyed with you or doesn't want to help you out, when that couldn't be further from the truth.

before he can make a decision, you turned him around, his eyes landing on your glazed over eyes.

you had taken off the bandana and gotten your shirt partially off before asking harry for help. he's a bit startled to see you half dressed in front of him, but he quickly makes the decision to be professional and friendly about this situation.

he helps you take off your shirt the rest of the way, and unties your skirt around your waist. harry tries to divert his eyes as he does so to give you the most privacy possible in this moment, though his mind was pushing the most sinful thoughts he could muster.

his hands were shaky as he put both your skirt and top in the laundry, not even noticing how hard and fast his heart was beating until he took a moment to breathe.

just behind him, he hears you take a seat on your mattress. "can you take my shoesss pleaseee," you whine, sticking your left heel in the air towards harry.

the sight that beholds him in this moment is unholy.

you, practically naked except for your underwear and fishnet stockings, pointing a bright red heel at him with a pouty face as you wait for his help. he could devour you whole right here, right now. the fact that he hasn't kissed you yet tonight honestly had harry impressed with himself.

he nervously swallowed before reaching for your shoe, carefully sliding it off your foot as you gracefully lift the other leg towards him. he takes that heel as well and sets them next to your other shoes. he reaches in your closet for a big, comfy t-shirt and turns around to give it to you.

he sees you on your back, rolling around on the mattress, struggling to get your fishnets off, laughing to yourself as they get tangled on your legs. harry cant help but laugh at you as well, your carefree intoxicated state was just so adorable to him.

harry briefly helps you out of the stockings before handing you the t-shirt. "here, is this okay to sleep in?" he asks, putting the stockings on your dresser. "yeah!" you say cheerfully. "thanks, harryyy," you coo. harry immediately blushes, the way you carried out his name just made his heart sing. he was so lucky to be this close to you.

"gotta take this off," you say, pulling at the straps of your bra. harry nods and turns away. you giggle softly, grabbing for his hand. he turns to you in shock, looking down at your hand as you stand up from the bed.

"help me?" you ask seductively.

harry is frozen. are you meaning to be so overtly flirty right now? is this a bit from the alcohol? are you about to start laughing him off and put the shirt on anyway?

but you don't, you just patiently wait for his answer with puppy dog eyes. he glanced between you and the t-shirt in your hand, clearly a worried look taking over his expression.

"you don't have to," you say softly. that snaps harry out of his daze. "n-no, of course i'll help," he says eagerly. you smile again and turn around, gathering your hair to one side to get it out of the way for him.

harry has never been so aroused in his life. this is the most intimate he's ever been with anyone. he's never unclasped a bra before, and worries he's about to make a fool of himself in front of the most beautiful girl in the world.

but he soon figures it out and manages to unclasp it for you. "there you are," he assures you. you slowly turn around, your arms crossed in front of your chest as you hold the bra up. harry's completely infatuated with the delicious sight of you in front of him in this moment, but quickly diverts his gaze to an uninteresting part of the room.

"harry, do you want to see my boobs?"

harry snaps his head back at you with concern. his brows are furrowed and mouth agape. you have a genuine expression but your eyes are still a bit bloodshot.

"wh…what?" he choked out. he can't believe you asked that, even in this state. you've truly never showed interest in harry like this before, only subtle touches and looks that he interpreted how he wanted, but never anything like this.

well, unless you count the other day when you undressed near him.

but that was friendly, wasn't it? you were just changing, lots of friends change in front of each other. but this was completely different, you were purposefully exposing yourself to him. not only that, but you were asking him if you could, as if it wasn't the only thing he wanted in this moment.

"do you wanna see my boobs?" you ask again, giggling slightly.

harry blinks a few times, trying as hard as he can to not ogle over your body. this is all he's wanted, for months this is the only thing he's wanted, but right now just didn't feel right. you weren't fully aware of what you were doing or saying, and he couldn't, in good faith, continue further with this situation.

he carefully places his hands on your crossed arms, keeping them close to you as he talks.

"[y/n], you're drunk right now. and while i helped you get undressed, which was already a bit over the line, i don't want you to do something you'll regret."

you give him a look he can't quite decipher. your smile drops, your eyes focus, and your arms tense.

"i'm sorry," you say softly.

harry quickly reassures you. "don't be! seriously, don't be. i am so, so glad that you trust me enough to help you in this state. truly. it means the world to me, because i care about you so much." he gives you a warm smile.

you smile back at him. "then i hope you understand when i say i want to do this,"

you begin to pull your arms away from your chest, but harry is still holding them. he looks you in the eyes with worry, afraid of what you're about to do, yet more excited than he's been in a long time.

"but [y/n]..." he protests. "please?" you ask simply.

harry is reluctant, but he can tell you're going to be insistent, so he slowly lets go of your arms as you remove your bra from your body.

harry glances at your chest, his heart dropping. you're perfect.

perfect, perfect, perfect.

your skin looked so beautiful in the lowlight provided by your lamps and fairy lights. the curves of your boobs looked so soft and untouched. this was the first time harry was seeing tits in real life, and he was pretty sure this was the best they could possibly get.

he looks back up at your eyes, a shy smile spread across your expression. "beautiful…" harry whispers before he even realizes what he's saying.

you giggle, unfolding the shirt you handed him and swiftly pulling it over your head. "thanks, harry," you say so casually, turning around to make your bed so you can sleep in it.

he can hardly believe what's just happened. the girl of his dreams, the girl he'd practically been obsessed with for months, just willingly showed him her boobs for fun. though you were intoxicated and would most likely regret it tomorrow, hopefully not mad at him for letting it happen, he was still grateful that you felt that level of trust with him in any capacity.

what he wasn't grateful for, however, were these bloody pirate pants that gave him the most uncomfortable erection of his life. this was also definitely the hardest and most turned on he had ever been, so he's not sure if there's any comfort to be had in this moment anyway. while you focus on the bed, harry takes a step away and tries to calm himself down, thinking different thoughts to try and let the hornieness subside for just a bit longer.

as you plop into bed and begin getting comfortable, harry turns off a few lamps for you but keeps on the fairy lights in case you need the bathroom at any point.

"do you need anything before i head out, [y/n]?" he asks.

you sit up in your bed, a look of pain on your face.

"you're leaving me?"

harry is utterly heartbroken at the tone of your question. you sound so genuinely upset he immediately comes to comfort you, sitting on the edge of your mattress.

"oh, no, i-i won't if you don't want me to." he stumbles out. harry wasn't planning on staying, he was actually just imagining how good of a jerk he was about to have in 10 minutes, plus he's never technically stayed the night with you before. but he quickly pushes his perverted thoughts of you to the side and knows it's much more satisfying to him if he stays here and makes sure you're okay through the night.

you reach for the bandana that's still tied around his head and pull it off swiftly, leaving his hair disheveled. you throw it across the room with a laugh.

"sleepoverrrr" you cheer, patting the spot next to you on the bed. harry laughs with you, standing up and realizing he's still dressed as a pirate. "i didn't bring any clothes…" he says with a twinge of sadness.

you look at him confused. "you're a guy, just sleep naked." you say it like it's the most obvious thing in the world. harry is a bit stunned at this statement but quickly laughs you off, going to your drawers to look for a pair of pants. besides, he's still slightly struggling with a situation in his boxers and being naked next to you wouldn't exactly help him out.

he eventually put together a shirt and pants combo that fit him comfortably enough to sleep in. "hope you don't mind," he says as he changes into them.

"not at all," you say, watching him change in the lowlight. there's something in your voice that makes harry feel feral, an overwhelming desire to just let go and release the tension between you two. at least, the tension he thinks is there.

he quickly gets dressed, setting his pirate clothes and glasses on your dresser as the sleep begins to settle into his bones. he crawls into bed next to you, and is quickly invited to join you under the covers. he's a bit reluctant at first, but realizes he doesn't have much of a choice as he starts getting cold.

within a few minutes of saying goodnight to each other, you and harry drift off to sleep together.

you're the first one awake, a splitting headache and dry mouth creating an unpleasant feeling immediately after opening your eyes. you rub the sleep away from them and reach for a glass of water on the nightstand next to you, sitting up a bit to sip slowly.

"good morning," a deep voice rumbles just beside you. you instinctively jump a bit before your brain quickly recognizes harry's tone and accent. as you turn to him, he's adorably disheveled wearing one of your university crewnecks under your blanket.

he smiles at you. he looks so different without his glasses on.

"morning, harry," you say groggily. the moment doesn't last long before another wave of your headache hits you, causing you to rub your forehead. you groan in pain. "what happened last night?"

harry's a bit frozen. this is exactly what he was afraid was going to happen. you don't remember anything from last night. he should've just dropped you off here and left right away, not even letting there be a chance of anything happening.

he's brought out of his thoughts when you look back down at him, a look of curiosity in your eyes as you continue to rub your head.

harry also sits up a bit before climbing out of bed, putting his glasses on from the top of your dresser.

"well…" he starts out nervously, scratching his head. "we went to the party," he says as he begins to stretch his back out.

"oh yeah, the party. we were definitely the best costumes there." you recall the night fondly. harry laughs nervously, worried about how you're going to react when you find out he undressed you and even saw you nearly completely naked in such an intoxicated state.

"right, yeah, of course." harry chuckles dryly. "but, um…at some point you left me and started drinking, so we didn't stay for long." he says carefully, his mind racing as he slowly, nervously paces between your bed and your dresser.

"classic," you chuckle, reaching for a hairbrush as you begin to comb through your knotty hair. "thanks for bringing me home, harry," you smile at him.

the guilt twists in his stomach like a knife, he can't believe how innocent you are. but he also can't believe what happened between you two last night, and just how eager you seemed for it to happen. he has to stop thinking about it before he gets turned on again.

"of course, [y/n], but, um…" he takes a deep breath before he continues. "you look cute in my jumper, by the way," you interrupt him, standing up from your bed as you begin to collect toiletries to take a shower.

his brain fogs from the compliment, but doesn't let it distract him from what he knows he has to tell you.

"well, thank you, but, um…" harry says with a blush.

you give him a confused look. "what's up?" you ask him. he's just going to come right out and say it.

"look, [y/n], i don't know if you remember, but…you asked me to help you get undressed last night because you were too drunk," he spits out, trying to immediately gauge your reaction before continuing. you just give him an even more confused look. "oh, well, thank you then. is that okay?" you ask incredulously.

harry stiffens. "yeah, um…i didn't mind helping, of course, it's just…" you giggle, opening the door to your en suite bathroom that's barely bigger than the shower within it. "harry, you're such a dork. do you actually feel bad for taking care of me when i was drunk?" you ask sarcastically as you set down various lotions and hair products onto the sink.

he cracks a small smile at you calling him a dork, but it doesn't last long. his heart settles a bit after hearing your positive outlook on the situation so far, but it doesn't stop completely.

"it's not that, um…but, uh, afterwards, you, well, kind of…" he awkwardly tried to find the words.

"you…showed me your boobs." not the most eloquent way of putting it.

your face goes pale. his stomach drops immediately.

"n-not by my request or anything!" he quickly reassures you (and himself). "it's just, i told you you might regret it, but you were insisting on doing it anyways…" he doesn't want to feel like he's blaming you when he was the sober one in charge.

"oh…" you say despondent, seeming lost in your thoughts as you search his expression. he gives you a moment to process what he's said. "yeah…" is all he manages to say.

you sigh. "i'm sorry, harry. it was wrong of me to force that on you." your apology is so sincere, and it immediately confused harry. force that on him? bloody hell. you really had no memory of just how much he enjoyed himself in that moment. harry's sure he looked like a kid at a candy shop just staring at your beautiful body in the warm light.

"what? no! i-i'm sorry i let that happen," he responds with a ridiculous tone. "i was the sober one, i should've tried harder to–""to what? stop a drunk girl from showing her tits? yeah, good luck with that one." you laugh, cracking a joke.

harry's nerves are much more calm. he's insanely grateful that you seem to be taking this news well and aren't angry with him.

"look, harry…" you start, adjusting your shirt around your shoulders. harry's been stealing glances of your delicious thighs and legs every so often as you talked.

"i'm really grateful for you. just in general, but for last night especially. you helped me out, and you were a complete gentleman, at least from what i can remember…" you joke with him. he cracks a smile too.

"so don't stress about it, yeah?"

harry lets out a breath of relief, physically feeling the weight of the situation lift from his shoulders. "yeah, of course. i'm really grateful you trust me like that." he's in awe of your grace in this moment.

you smile, stepping over to the laundry next to your dresser. you grab a shirt and some pants from your closet, and, before harry even realizes what you're doing, you drop your underwear you were wearing last night to your ankles, stepping out of them and walking towards the bathroom again.

"gonna shower for a bit," you inform him as you close the door behind yourself.

harry's left behind, staring at the door before returning his gaze to your panties.

they're red, much like your bra from last night, and he remembers taking note of them to keep in his fantasies later for accuracy. but now, here they were, just laying right in front of him.

he finds himself still staring at them when he hears you turn the shower on and step inside, closing the sliding glass door behind you. he looks at the door, and looks back at your panties.

for a while he just looks at them incredulously, not entirely sure why this specific detail has made him so irrationally horny. you were completely naked on just the other side of this wall, but he's practically mesmerized by the image of you casually sliding your red panties down your legs right in front of him like it wasn't the most erotic thing he's ever witnessed in his whole life.

before he knows it, the shower turns off. he's still left staring at your red panties. as he shifts his weight, he can see that they're a bit wet and slick in the light from you wearing them all night.

he can't take it anymore. his erection from last night has returned with a vengeance this morning. before harry could even realize what he's doing, he's picked up your underwear carefully, holding them between his fingers, your wetness still soaking through the cotton.

his heart is racing as he hears you brushing your teeth. what is he doing? if you caught him being perverted with your panties like this after just reassuring him that he wasn't in the wrong for what happened last night, he'd surely be on your bad side. but he can't stop himself.

he brings them to his face and takes a slow, deep inhale.

you smell completely divine. slightly sweet, slightly bitter. he gets goosebumps just thinking about how you must really smell. his erection is raging beneath your sweatpants he put on last night, feeling incredibly dirty from being so turned on by your used panties.

his stolen pleasure is too quickly interrupted by the sound of the bathroom doorknob jiggling. shit. as you're about to open the door, harry panics and shoves your panties into the pocket of his sweatpants.

you come out with freshly damp hair and raw skin. the wonderful smell of your shower products fill the room as you brush through your hair casually.

harry keeps a hand in his pocket over the panties so you don't have the chance of catching him, and to better conceal the raging boner that's not going away anytime soon.

you don't say anything as you place your toiletries back in their rightful spots, humming to yourself as you comb through your hair occasionally.

so casually beautiful, so effortlessly pristine. you amazed him every time with just how ethereal you could be at any given moment. a freshly clean angel fluttering around the room without a care in the world.

you begin complaining of your hangover headache and ask harry to get food with you. he's more than willing, his stomach already growling in response for him.

at breakfast, you sit in silence with harry as you both hungrily devour the pancakes you ordered. harry got you two glasses of orange juice to keep you hydrated after last night.

after a while, you inform him you have to go study, and he offers to help you. "thanks, but i can't be distracted. this exam is going to kick my ass." you complained to him. harry gave you a look. "i distract you?"

you laugh at him, leaving him at the lunch hall with a simple, "goodbye, harry. call me later."

when harry gets to his dorm room, he realizes he's still wearing your clothes. and, shit, he's still got your panties in his pocket.

harry slowly reaches for them, feeling a twinge of guilt and lust once his hand finds the fabric. pulling them out, he's in shock that he actually stole a pair of your panties. to be fair he didn't intend to, he just panicked and wasn't thinking straight.

but, now that he has them…

keeping the red lace hanging from his fingers, harry climbs into bed and begins to remember those unforgettable moments with you just the night prior. it doesn't take much to get him just as riled up as before, imagining the moments he was undressing you in slow motion. taking your heels off as you looked up at him with the most seductive eyes in the world. seeing the flesh of your breasts for the first time in the dim lighting, imagining how they'd feel in his rough hands. god, he feels so bad finding pleasure in these moments, but he physically can't resist it.

his hand is already wrapped around the base of his cock, stroking slowly as to savor the memories flashing through his brain. he's been aching for this release since seeing you in your costume last night, just another memory that brings him closer to the edge.

finally, he slowly brings your panties to his face. though they've since dried in his pocket during breakfast and the walk home, the lingering smell is still enough to drive him wild. he's breathing them in like it's oxygen and he's drowning.

just as he's nearing the end, he brings the panties to his other hand and begins stroking his cock with them. the sight alone is enough to break him, his cum spilling onto his hand and all over your red panties as images of your half naked body continue to infest his brain.

this time, the immediate guilt was the worst it'd ever been.

as he began to clean up, he realized just how much he ruined your panties in his excitement. his cum had soaked through the thin fabric and was already drying around it. he cursed himself for ruining such a sacred momento that he should've cherished, but also quickly cursed himself for thinking that way about you in the first place.

you even said yourself that harry was being a perfect gentleman last night. yeah, a gentleman with a raging erection the entire night who steals your used panties for his sick pleasure…

he continues to clean himself up, putting your panties in a safe place where nobody can find them and he won't lose them. even just the thought of them being in his possession was enough to get him riled up again.

it's the stressful time between thanksgiving and christmas where school has the two of you completely spread thin. harry's constantly writing essays while you seem to have endless lab experiments to finish for other classes. the one saving grace is your potions class together, twice a week. it's what kept harry sane during this chaotic time.

spending even just this short hour and 15 minutes with you is enough to fulfill harry. he hasn't properly hung out with you in nearly two weeks and was missing you like he was withdrawing.

sitting close to you to copy some notes about the potion you two are working on, harry admires your handwriting for the millionth time since he's met you. "i just don't understand how you write so well, i can barely read my own," harry jokes, holding out his notebook, making you laugh and blush.

the potion you're working on is one that allows the consumer to communicate with animals for a short period of time. it's rather complex, but harry helps you keep things organized and encourages you when you get frustrated.

"i just don't get it, how is it 3 drops and not 6? i swear it was 6 last week…" you groan, looking through your notes as you set down the tincture, rubbing your face, exasperated.

harry sets a reassuring hand on your arm. he's gotten pretty good at being more physical with you, and isn't afraid to touch you casually like you always have with him. "hey, [y/n], it's okay," he tells you, catching your eyes with his. "it's been a stressful week, yeah? just a mistake, no big deal."

you give harry that same, warm smile you delivered on your first day meeting him. he often looks back at that day fondly, forever grateful he got the sudden courage to talk to you after this class. not only were you now his closest friend, you were also the light of his life.

as harry finishes up, he hands you the round vial full of luminescent, purple potion. "here you are, test it out."

you take a small swig of it just as professor rodden makes his way to your and harry's table. next to the table is a bird's cage on a hook, with a sweet owl inside named jewel.

you make eye contact with the owl, and begin to speak. to you and everyone else it just sounds like regular english, but the owl begins to hoot and flap its wings at you immediately.

"hello, jewel, how are we feeling today?" you coo.

amazing, incredible, unbelievable! jewel's hoots become intelligible to your ear as you practically jump up and down with a huge smile on your face. "it worked, it worked!" you announced to harry, instinctively jumping in his arms for a hug as he spins you around excitedly.

"yes! you did it! see, i knew you could." harry exclaims, setting you down and giving you a toothy grin.

you look at jewel again, who is turning her head at you every which way. how nice, you and the boy! how sweet indeed! her loud hoots make the class silent as they watch you interact with her.

"what's she saying?" harry asks curiously. you give him a shy smile, feeling your face turn red. "she likes us." you're not totally lying.

"well, ms. [y/l/n], i must tell you i'm quite impressed. not just at how quickly you two perfected this potion, but of your performance this semester overall." professor rodden compliments you. he turns to harry. "i see mr. potter has been a positive influence on you this year."

harry quickly shuts him down. "actually, sir, if you don't mind me speaking out of turn, [y/n] has helped me way more this semester than i've helped her. she's brilliant."

professor rodden turns to you, a pale face and shocked expression, and gives you a smile. "well, then, hat's off to you, ms. [y/l/n]." he says, bowing to you before continuing with his rounds in the classroom. "thank you, professor rodden."

after class, you're all over harry, resting your head on him, hugging him, touching him randomly, but he's not complaining of course. he feels lucky enough that you're so comfortable around him as to be touchy feely.

"thank you, by the way. for what you said to rodden." you thank him as you two walk into your dorm room. harry takes his usual seat at your computer desk. "of course, i wasn't about to let that wanker give me credit for all of your hard work." harry says, laughing. he's become so much more confident with you, even using your lingo in his own vocabulary.

"no, really, thank you. just, for everything." you smile at him. "you're the best friend i could ever ask for."

harry feels his smile slightly falter. he's always reminded that that's all you are is friends, and while he's insanely grateful for your friendship, probably more than anything else in his life, he just can't help but feel a bit lost at this point. he's insanely attracted to you, ferociously protective over you, and, yet, can't bring himself to tell you any of this.

"you're welcome, [y/n], but if anything i should be thanking you. you don't even know how much you've helped me, not just with school but with everything. you're, like, the only friend i have at this point." harry laughs, but it's true. he's tried to make friends in other classes this year but has been disappointed each time, they're just not you.

you give harry a sad smile. "that's not true, ron and hermione are still your friends. more than that, they're practically your family." you walk over to him and run your hand through his hair, something you know he loves. he looks up at you slightly through his eyelashes.

"hermione's right, they'll come back to you one day. just give it some time, yeah?"

harry melts into your touch. nobody can settle his mind like you do. he didn't exactly look for pity from people, but you were someone he felt so safe with that he could be completely vulnerable in front of you. the reassurance and love that you provided him in these moments healed him in a way he didn't understand.

"right," he sighs, giving you the same sad smile.

you whine and pull his head into your chest, resting your own head on top of his. "awh, i hate seeing you so sad." you say sympathetically, still running your fingers through the back of his hair.

if harry's being completely honest, he's not sad at all anymore. how could he feel anything but pure bliss with his head buried in your sweater and your fingers leaving goosebumps throughout his scalp? he leans into you like a dog being pet, so desperate for your touch.

you stay like that with him for a while, just enjoying each other's company. harry found solace in your heartbeat, feeling truly at peace for the first time in weeks. "i've missed you." harry practically moans, intoxicated by your warm scent, his eyes fluttering closed.

you hum, smiling softly to yourself, feeling harry practically melt into your arms. "missed you too, harry," you coo, enjoying the feeling of being together.

"the semester's almost over, then it's christmas." you remind him, lifting your head as you look down at his closed eyes. he looks so peaceful resting against you.

harry smiles. almost christmas. but more importantly, almost your birthday.

harry very vividly remembers a conversation he had with you towards the beginning of your friendship about birthdays and how neither of you particularly enjoyed them.

your birthday fell close to christmas, so, inevitably, it became synonymous with christmas growing up. never really getting a separate party or separate presents, you learned to not expect much the actual day of, and to rather wait for christmas so you could be celebrated on the side.

harry was having none of this. he thinks you forgot about the conversation with him completely, but he's thought about it constantly since then. he's been planning on giving you a special birthday on your actual birthday this year, and he's practically dying to tell you. but he doesn't, and he won't, because it has to be a complete surprise.

"hm. christmas." is all he says, tilting his head back to look up at you. from every angle he finds you so fascinating, you just get prettier and prettier the more he truly looks at you.

you're gazing at him so gently, so warmly, your hand practically cradling his head against you. harry blinks and you're suddenly leaning forward, planting a soft kiss against his forehead.

harry could've died happy at that moment.

he brings his head away from your chest as you step away, soft smile and blushing cheeks. watching you turn and start folding laundry mindlessly, harry feels the lingering kiss tingling his skin.

for a brief moment, he imagines himself coming up to you from behind, wrapping his arms around you, kissing your neck, feeling you, pushing you to the bed…

harry quickly shakes his head, grinding his teeth at the horny urges he gets at the most simple actions. what other boys in university get an erection so quickly from a forehead kiss? sometimes harry felt like such a loser, not just with you, but with sex in general.

he never thought about it much before you, so it's not something he knows a lot about. he'd masturbated before, but not as often as he does now, or in the same way. usually he thought about making out with someone, maybe touching them, but now…he just felt so dirty, the things that his brain creates about you.

once you finish the laundry, you ask for his help to put stuff away. he's done this for you many times before, so he knows where you like everything to be.

he hangs up a few shirts and puts away some jeans and socks. he turns around to see you handing him a pile of your panties loosely stacked together. "here," you say as you're turned the other way, gathering another pile of clothes with your other arm.

harry is frozen for a second before reluctantly taking the underwear from you, immediately feeling his face flush.

he's instantly reminded of your panties sitting in his room right now. the panties he stole. the panties he masturbated with.

he's since washed them and keeps them out of guilt, partially, but he's not quite sure how to subtly return them to you. not like he wants to anytime soon.

as harry turns around and opens the drawer you put your panties in, he takes his time so he can admire all the different pairs in his hand. pinks, purples, reds, neutrals, blacks, he was practically holding a goldmine. it almost made him chuckle, the irony of you asking him to put these away.

he neatly tucks them into the drawer, admiring them one last time before slowly closing it.

for the first time that month, you and harry actually have the freetime to leave campus and get food together. your favorite diner is open all night and serves the best milkshakes either of you have ever had.

"how are we splitting the checks?" the older waitress asks, eyeing harry up and down. before you can say anything he tells her just one, handing her his card out of nowhere.

as she walks away you give him an evil look. "you don't always have to pay for everything, y'know? i'm perfectly capable of paying for myself or the both of us." you tease him. he smiles. "i know." he states simply.

you finish your milkshakes within minutes, handing your cherry to harry like you do every time. "cherry for harry," you always say. it always gets a smile out of him.

after a few minutes of chatting alone in the diner, the bell at the front door rings. you get a big smile across your face as you stand from the booth. "thomas?" you ask.

harry turns around to see a man in a quidditch uniform, his hair sweaty and book bag full to the brim. he's carrying his broomstick around, like a total tool if you ask harry, and gives you the cheekiest smile possible.

"[y/n]?" he asks.

harry could've killed him just for saying your name the way he did. like a predator hunting its prey again.

harry's anger immediately worsened when you practically jumped on this guy to give him a hug. nothing like the hug you gave harry in class today, he wants to note.

harry stood up, causing the guy to look at him. he had a scar as well, one from quidditch harry would assume. a slash across his left eye, healed but still somewhat recent.

you look back at harry as well, smiling at him. "harry, this is thomas." you introduce them.

yeah, he picked up on that. harry's face was red from anger.

he reluctantly steps forward, offering his hand to the douchebag who still kept a light hand on your shoulder. harry wanted to break his wrist when he went in for the handshake, but instead he offered a polite, "harry. nice to meet you."

the guy, thomas, gives a half smirk. "harry potter." he states matter-of-factly.

harry was sure his anger was visible at this point. it was enough that this guy was touching you and clearly had a past with you, but for him to pull the boy who lived card on him in front of you was enough to make his fists ball up.

"that's me." he says, his tone dripping in sarcasm.

there's an awkward moment of silence as harry continues to stare thomas down.

"so. how do you two know each other?" harry asks you, his tone and gaze softening just looking at you.

"oh! um…" you start nervously.

"we dated back in high school." thomas finishes for you.

of fucking course you did, harry thinks.

"yeah…for, like, 2 months…" you awkwardly laugh off, clearly not the most comfortable discussing this in front of harry.

thomas laughs with you as the waitress hands him a to-go box. "well, i'll see you guys around," he says as he hikes up his bookbag. "it was nice to see you again, [y/n]."

if looks could kill, this guy would've been dead long before he left out the door. harry knew he was visibly upset when you looked over at him.

"you okay harry?" you ask with a laugh.

he breaks, looking at you with a smile as he loosens his tight muscles. "sorry, i'm fine," he says.

as you both put your coats on to walk home, harry can't help but replay the interaction in his head. "dated…in high school…" "yeah…for, like, 2 months…"

harry's mind was swimming as you left the diner with him, walking into a light snow. "wow," you sigh, looking around you. harry looks up. it's beautiful out. the snow gives everything a light, soft look under the street lamps. he looks down at you and smiles at you admiring the scenery.

sometimes it scares harry how jealous he gets when it comes to you, and how quickly it can happen. that guy did nothing but say your name and give you a 2 second hug, and he actually dated you, so what right does harry have to get upset as just your friend? but all he can think about on the walk to your dorm is pummeling this guy's stupid face into the ground.

harry hadn't told you yet, but he had actually been going to the gym lately with all the time he had spent away from you during the busy school weeks. nothing too intense, he actually focused on boxing and lifting specifically because he wanted to be better prepared to protect you in case anything happened to you. and for self defense reasons, of course, but mainly for your benefit. he would do anything for you.

upon arriving at your dorm, you plop onto your mattress with a groan. "too much milkshake," you whine.

harry chuckles at you, shaking the snow out of his hair. "i told you not to get the large." he smirks. you frown at him, making him laugh again. "it's not funny! and you're wrong, i deserved a large after this month." you protest.

he laughs you off again, taking a peek at your alarm clock next to your bed. his eyes widen. "bloody hell, since when was it half past 11?" he asks astounded.

you laugh at his shock. "time flies when you're havin' fun,"

harry rubs his eyes. "if i don't leave now i won't get enough sleep to make it to my 9 a.m." he groans, not wanting his time with you to end yet again.

"nooo," you whine, clearly wanting the same. he gives you a sad look at your tone. "stay?" you ask.

harry's a bit taken aback. he hasn't stayed the night since the halloween party. thinking about that night for even a split second makes him break a sweat. it's his most replayed memory. he could even call it his sexual awakening at the ripe age of 19.

"stay? are you sure?" harry asks. you immediately nod your head, smiling at him. he can't say no to you, and he doesn't want to. he has no reason to leave, anything he needs is already here.

"well, if you insist." he smirks. you roll your eyes, taking off your jacket and hat and setting them in your closet. "i only insist because that snow is turning into a storm." you reply. you're not wrong, harry would've had to walk for 15 minutes through heavier and heavier snowfall, not to mention the windchill.

"well, thank you." he says. you smile back at him before reaching to take your shirt off. harry's seen you in multiple states of undress since the halloween party, so it's not uncommon for you to just change at any point during your conversations.

but that didn't make it any less pleasurable for harry.

sometimes he just sat back and watched like it was a personal show just for him. he would memorize the shape of your back and, shit, the curve of your ass. he watched as you pulled down your jeans, left in nothing but a bra and panties. he tried not to stare but it was impossible to look away for too long, your ass was just perfect to him.

before too long you unclasped the bra hooks behind your back and let the black fabric fall into the laundry. you slipped on a big t-shirt, your favorite thing to wear to bed, and harry caught just the slightest glimpse of your tits from behind you.

as you turned around, harry quickly began taking off his wet, snow covered converse to appear as though he wasn't just observing you like his own personal dirty magazine.

when he looked up, you were handing him some clothes to change into. he thanked you, grabbing them as he took off his jeans and sweatshirt. harry had also learned to be more comfortable changing around you, even if it wasn't as often.

harry put on the sweatpants and fresh pair of socks before realizing you hadn't given him a shirt. he looked over at you and you were already staring at him.

"harry, have you been working out?"

his face flushed, feeling exposed with just a pair of sweatpants on his hips. you were looking at his body with an expression of shock and amusement.

"u-um, yeah, a bit…just between classes, get some stress out." he's not entirely lying, but he could never tell you the real reason.

you smile at him, but a different smile than normal. you're almost…nervous? you've never been nervous around harry, even when you two first met.

"you look…good…" you say with a slight crack in your voice, still looking at him. harry can feel his blood pumping, and he knows that can only lead to an eventual erection, so he turns around casually pretending to fold his jeans. "oh, thanks," he tries to say casually.

he can still feel your eyes on him as he hangs his sweatshirt on your coat rack. "damn, harry. you're like…ripped." you say with genuine shock in your voice.

harry turns towards you, but you're fixated on his exposed torso. he nervously laughs, not sure how to respond. of course he thought getting stronger would mean his body would inevitably look better, but he cared more about his ability to fight off any creeps he needed to in order to keep you safe. however, he hadn't necessarily considered your reaction to his transformation. he had somewhat forgotten you also saw him change his clothes that halloween night. he thought you had forgotten too.

"i don't know about that," he laughs awkwardly.

you just giggle and look away, shaking your head. you climb into bed and invite him next to you. harry accepts and joins you beneath the covers, turning off a lamp beside him.

after a few moments of silence, harry could hear your shallow, even breaths indicating you're asleep. he looked down at you, peaceful, beautiful. he sat up as gently as possible and placed a soft kiss to your forehead. "goodnight, [y/n]."

it was finally your birthday.

harry had been planning this day for weeks. he made sure to ask you way ahead of schedule when you would be seeing family so he could time everything perfectly.

he had completely set up your room to look like a birthday party for a kid. balloons, streamers, a birthday cake and ice cream, presents, even fun plates and napkins.

you should be coming home from going out to eat with your parents for brunch in about 10 minutes. harry made sure to call you before you left early in the morning to be the first to wish you a happy birthday.

as he was waiting for you to arrive, he made sure everything was perfect, down to the last balloon. he had put your favorite cd on and even lit a candle. he's not quite sure why, he just felt like it was right.

soon enough, he could hear your keys on the other side of your door letting yourself in, so harry positioned himself beside your bed and waited eagerly for the reaction he'd been thinking about for months.

when you open the door, you're a bit startled to see him at first. "surprise!" he says with a suppressed smile, trying to contain his excitement.

your eyes slowly examine the room, your jaw dropping as you bring a hand to your heart. "harry…" you choke out in a small voice, still noticing different details around you as the door closes behind you.

"happy birthday." he says lovingly, taking in every second of your realization.

"you…how did you…" you can't even get the words out as you set down your purse and coat on your bed next to your presents from harry.

"i've been planning this for weeks. i wanted to give you the birthday you never had." he tells you.

you look at him with tears in your eyes, quickly looking away and towards your dresser. "you got me a cake…" you say tearfully, walking up to the custom cake he had placed an order for an entire week ago.

"we also have reservations for the diner at 5. if you'd join me, of course." harry smirks. you chuckle at him, jumping in his arms and enveloping him in a hug. "thank you…" you begin to cry into his shoulder.

harry holds you tight, dazed from your scent and enjoying the softness of your hair. he rubs your back softly as you get the tears out, letting you know it's okay.

you pull away, wiping your tears as you laugh at yourself. "sorry, i just…this is so amazing of you harry."

"don't be sorry. i'm glad you love it." he reassures you, making you smile. "let's have some cake, hm?"

after some cake and ice cream as well as messing with the balloons and party favors, it was time for harry's favorite part. the presents.

he sat you both down on your bed and savored each reaction you had to each present. every thank you was followed by, "how did you know i wanted this?" "how much was this?" "how did you get this?"

harry had his ways. and again, he would do anything for you.

his last present for you, though, was the most important. he kept it beside him until the very end, handing it to you with a shy smile. you lifted the lid off the box to reveal a beautiful necklace, one he saw you looking at multiple times while out shopping with you.

you were speechless. you looked at harry with the most genuine expression of shock, gratitude, and confusion. "harry…" you gasp. "you got this for me?" you ask.

harry chuckles. "do you like it?" he asks, already knowing the answer.

"harry…you really shouldn't have…" you tell him, staring at the necklace in your lap. he smiles even bigger, the look on your face was already enough to convince him it was worth it. it was all worth it. "here, i'll put it on you."

you hand harry the necklace, turning and scooting towards him as you hold your hair to the side for him. he's immediately reminded of the night he helped you take your bra off.

he clasps the necklace together and you turn towards him, looking down at it with him. "wow, it looks great." he says with a smile.

you look up at him, your faces nearly touching. harry can barely process your beauty before you lean in for a soft kiss against his lips.

harry's completely frozen, not knowing what to do or what's even happening.

when you pull back, harry can barely breathe.

you look up at him, your eyes soft and eager. harry can't hold himself back anymore. you've kissed him first, that's all the permission he needs for now.

he lightly grabs the back of your head and pulls you in for a bigger, deeper kiss. soon enough, you're making out with harry in your bed.

he's a bit rusty when it comes to kissing, but he plays it safe with you and keeps it soft and light. your hands have traveled to harry's neck and hair, pulling him closer to you.

after a minute or so, harry pulls away. "i love you, [y/n]." he admits. he just couldn't keep it in for much longer.

your eyes light up, a shy smile on your lips as you read his expression. "oh, harry. i love you, too." you reply breathlessly.

the kissing becomes more and more heated as you eventually push harry back onto your pillows. he's surprised, and completely aroused, trying to ignore his growing erection from simply kissing you.

you climb on top of him, the visual making harry sweat already. as you lean in to continue the kiss, your legs end up on either side of him, straddling his torso.

harry is at a loss. he never imagined his birthday surprise for you would end like this. did you really mean you loved him? like, loved loved him?

his hands went to your hips, savoring the feeling of your weight on top of him, his pants becoming more and more uncomfortable. eventually, he can feel your hips slowly rock back and forth on his lap.

he pulls away from the kiss, looking at you above him with wonder. it was everything he could've imagined. even better than the constant fantasies he had of you.

"is this okay?" you ask him softly, searching his eyes, grinding your hips into his a bit slower than before.

harry looks at you incredulously. "[y/n], this is all i've wanted for so long. please. use me." the desperation in his voice surprises him, he knew he wanted you this bad but he couldn't believe how quickly you had him begging.

you practically moaned at his desperate request. "fuck," you whisper as you go in for another kiss.

harry guides your hips into his, and he's sure you can feel just how hard he is through his jeans. you're softly moaning into the kiss, stopping to catch your breath every so often as harry slightly thrusts his hips into you, desperate for more.

"oh, harry…" you moan, causing his eyes to roll in ecstasy. for so long he imagined how you'd sound moaning his name just for him, and he's more than happy with the real thing.

"you're so beautiful, darling," harry says, reaching for your flushed cheek.

you whimper at his voice, tangling a hand in his hair. "tell me again." you demand him.

shit. harry could seriously cum just from that. he's doing everything he can to keep this going as long as possible, but he's not sure how much longer he'll last under you.

"beautiful. so, so beautiful." he says between heavy breaths, watching your incredible body grind onto him for pleasure. "you have no idea how badly i've needed you," he looks back into your eyes, half shut with pleasure as you continue to blush.

"touch me." you tell him, putting your hair behind your shoulders. he looks up at you slowly moving up and down on his lap. he could watch you do this for hours. a dream come true.

one hand slowly makes its way towards your tits, massaging one through your clothes. harry's head rolls back in pleasure, hardly believing this was his real life. involuntary moans slip through his lips as you continue to dry hump him.

"fuck, harry…" you whimper, kissing him again. he can feel the necklace he got you against his hand as he continue to feel your tits. everything about this was perfect. as far as he was concerned, right now, in this moment, you were his and only his.

"i-i…i think i'm gonna cum…" you tell him between kissing. his hands grip you tighter, all he wants to do is please you, be the reason for your ecstasy.

"please, [y/n], please cum for me," he begs of you, feeling his own body tipping over the edge. you look him in the eyes, your hand on his cheek as your breathing gets more rapid and uneven.

you're whimpering, desperately grinding for relief on harry's jeans as he feels himself about to cum. "harry, please…" you beg.

harry slightly thrusts into you, meeting your rhythm as he pulls you closer to him. you begin to shake in his grip, your eyes and jaw going lax as your whimpers become breathless. your hand finds one of his and interlocks your fingers together. you squeeze his hand as you ride out your high. he's completely enthralled with your face and body's reaction to him. he could be here forever, letting you use his body for pleasure, and he would hurt anyone who tried to stop him.

as you start to come down from your climax, harry gently pulls you in for a weak kiss. you crawl beside him, hiding your face in his chest as you continue to catch your breath.

"that was…so hot…" you manage to say between breaths. harry laughs softly, his hands finding your waist as he pulls you closer to him, placing a kiss on your head. "you're amazing." is all he can say.

"so…did you…?" you shyly start to ask. "yes. i came in my pants." harry admits, hiding his face in your hair. you can't help but laugh a bit, looking down at his jeans. he looks down and sees a dark spot near the zipper.

"oh." you say, clearly amused. "how couldn't i? i had the most beautiful woman in the world orgasming on my lap." harry smirks.

you hide your face in his chest again, giggling. you look up at him with dilated eyes, flushed cheeks, and sore lips in a small smile. "i really do love you, harry," you speak softly.

"i love you too, [y/n]."

it's the day after christmas, and you and harry had spent the holiday with your family. he loved your parents, and got on well with your siblings. he had even rented a room at a local inn near the area for you two to stay in. a private place to escape the chaos and have some alone time.

you and harry were practically all over each other all the time at this point. he couldn't help himself, all he ever wanted was to kiss you and now he could, whenever he wanted, and he was going to take advantage of that.

it was your last day at the inn, a cozy cottage type place with the softest beds you've ever slept in, and harry paid for all of it before you even knew about it. "merry christmas," he had told you.

you were eating your complimentary breakfasts together in silence, across from each other at the little table in the corner of the room.

"thank you, again, harry. this was a wonderful idea." you said as you finished your orange juice, admiring the snowfall out of the window. "it's so beautiful here."

"you're beautiful."

you give harry a look, but crack a smile. "and you're cheesy."

harry chuckles, admiring you like he always does. his soft eyes and kind smile give you butterflies.

as you're packing your clothes to get ready to leave, harry comes up behind you and wraps his arms around you. you smile, giggling, continuing to pack your suitcase. his lips end up on your neck, but you ignore him as you put your panties inside the bag.

harry laughs to himself. you look over at him. "what?" you ask with a smile. he's blushing, shaking his head. "nothing, nothing." he continues to laugh.

"tell me," you say. he shakes his head again. "no, its…it's weird." he says. you can hear a bit of shame in his voice as he hides his face in your neck again. "harry, tell me. please?"

he can't resist when you ask nicely.

he sighs, taking a step away from you and sitting on the bed next to your suitcase. "well…" he starts, rubbing his face nervously. "um, after the halloween party…" he trails off.

"yes…?" you ask, amused at his shy demeanor.

"u-uh, the morning after, when you took a shower…" harry recalls, shifting his weight. "i may have, um…stolen your underwear you took off in front of me…." he cringes at his words, turning his head away from you.

"i knew it!" you declared, pushing his shoulder.

harry covered his face completely, feeling like he could burst into tears at any moment from the embarrassment.

"god, that's so bloody hot, harry," you practically moan, pushing his arms to the side and sitting in his lap. he's completely red in the face, bewildered by your reaction.

"wh…what?" he asks breathlessly.

you hold his face in your hands, admiring his shy expression as you sink into him. "you don't find that weird? or creepy? or extremely perverted?" harry asks you incredulously.

you giggle at him, your eyes full of love. "yes, harry, stealing my used panties behind my back is very perverted. if you did that to any other girl they may find it really disturbing." harry's heart drops, his eyes focused on you completely. "but, i like you. i've really liked you for a long time. and…i find it so fucking hot just how desperate you were for me…"

harry's heart is immediately pumping at your words. you wrap your arms around his neck as you force a kiss on him, his hands grabbing your waist with a hunger.

after a moment he pulls back, nervously blinking and clearing his throat. "um, that's not all, though," he says regretfully. you give him a curious look. "i might've, um…used the panties to masturbate…" he admits.

you smile at his nervousness, biting your lip and giving him a desperate look. "oh, harry, tell me what it was like…" you moan as you begin kissing his neck.

harry's voice is caught, his head rolling back in pure bliss. sometimes he still can't believe this is real life.

you continue to bite at his neck, leaving marks as harry tries to find the words. "i, um…" his hand travels to your ass. "well, i smelled them first…" you moan against his skin, your legs tightening around him. "go on…" you say with a smile.

harry's trying to focus on the story without getting distracted by your lips. "they smelled so good, and you almost caught me, so i put them in my pocket," harry fights back a moan.

"so naughty," you tease him, pushing him onto his back. "tell me more." you demand.

harry nervously swallows at the sight of you above him. you hadn't done anything since your birthday just a few days previous, but it was all harry could think about. he missed the feeling of you being above him, using him, telling him what to do.

"when i got home, i immediately started jerking off thinking about undressing you, seeing your tits for the first time, smelling your panties, i felt so dirty because you told me i was such a gentleman that night…" harry rambles. something about revealing his perverted obsession with you as you're on his lap makes his erection harden.

he grabs for your thighs, sighing at how heavenly they feel in his hands. "then, i just…wrapped your panties around my dick…and i came on them, almost instantly…" harry reveals, the embarrassment fueling his lust.

you're practically aching for harry listening to his story, watching him become desperate for you once again. he's falling apart in your hands and you just can't get enough of it.

"god, harry, that's so hot…you were so obsessed with me…" you say as you lean into his lips, your bodies entangled on the bed.

harry pulls away, holding your face in his hands gently. "i still am, [y/n]." he says sincerely, admiring your eyes. "so, so obsessed…you have no idea…"

you gaze longingly at him, melting his heart. after a moment you kiss him passionately, savoring his eagerness.

"well…would you like these panties too?" you ask with a smirk, putting his hand on your ass. he looks up at you with begging eyes. "please," he says so softly.

soon you're sat on the edge of the bed, harry pulling down your pants with the fireplace lit behind him. he's looking at you so tenderly, taking in every part of you, constantly reminding you how much he loves you, and how beautiful you are.

you open your legs for him as he kneels in front of you, his eyes fluttering from your face to your panties, which are undoubtedly wet from hearing harry's perverted stories.

his mouth is watering just looking at you.

he gently kisses your thighs, higher and higher until he reaches your panties, taking a moment to look back up at you. you're intently watching him, a blush spreading across your face. you look so pretty from here, a view he's daydreamed about plenty of times.

he buries his face in your smell, moaning, taking you in completely, eyes drooping shut as he feels complete bliss overcome him.

you whimper at his reaction, a hand reaching for his hair as he comes back to earth. he reaches for your panties when he pauses, looking up at you shyly.

"i-i've never done this before." he admits.

you giggle at him lovingly. "i know, harry. it's okay. i haven't either." you reassure him, reaching for his glasses and setting them beside you. he smiles shyly and lays his head on your thigh, letting your hand tangle itself in his hair, memorizing this angle of you.

"just enjoy yourself."

harry blushes at that sentiment. he was enjoying himself no matter what, with you he was always happy, especially in moments like this.

but harry more than enjoyed himself. he had always fantasized what it would be like to eat your pussy, your hand in his hair as you ride his face and cum in his mouth. what he didn't expect was just how intimate it felt with you, the soft whimpers that escaped your mouth, having your legs rest on his shoulders, practically making out with your pussy while you writhe with pleasure beneath his hands.

you were both a bit unsure at first, awkward smiles and laughs and reassuring touches, before harry eventually lost himself in the act. he paid close attention to your reactions, your facial expressions, trying to figure out the best way to pleasure you. he loved feeling you get more and more wet for him by the minute, he couldn't get enough of you.

harry didn't want to stop. cumming once wasn't enough for him. he ignored your begging for him to wait, please, it's too much, holding your hands down with his own as he continued for several more minutes. he had waited so long to finally do this for you, showing you just how badly he wanted you. his dick was aching from how hard it was. this was easily the most turned on he'd been for you so far, watching and hearing you orgasm because of him, on his face, he was convinced there was nothing more enjoyable or desirable than this.

"harry, god damn it…" you sighed. he stayed between your legs in the same position, leaving loving and longing kisses on your thighs and stomach, enjoying the aftershocks your body was having in response to him, looking at you with hunger in his eyes.

"yes?" he asks innocently, still admiring your delicious pussy. "harry, i can barely move…" you whine, your body aching and sore. harry smiles devilishly at your weakness, loving the effect he's come to have on you.

he kisses up your body, leaving a desperate kiss on your lips as you taste yourself on him.

"that was even better than i ever imagined it could be," harry practically growls. you giggle at him, your eyes tired and lips bitten.

you look down at harry and see his throbbing erection through his pants. you look back at him, and offer to return the favor.

"oh, honey, you don't have to, you should rest…" harry insists, stroking your hair out of your face. but you're not backing down, and you at least convince him to let you help him out.

he lays next to you on the bed, shirt and pants off as you start feeling his dick through his briefs. harry's instantly desperate under your touch, realizing just how long he's waited for this moment, no longer having to imagine his own hand as yours.

"[y/n]..." harry moans, his eyes filled with lust as he looks over at you. you. blushing, beautiful, natural you. "i swear i could cum just looking at you."

you giggle at harry again, blushing into his chest as your hand continues to stroke him. you look back up at him innocently, admiring the look of desperation he couldn't hide. reaching for a kiss, harry moans softly into your mouth, his dick twitching in your hand.

"oh god…" harry whines, his head falling back in pleasure. you can tell he's close, just from light touching and barely any kissing. you can't help but giggle at his state, loving the control you have over him.

"go ahead, baby, cum for me," you whisper seductively.

that's all it takes for harry.

trying his best to keep his eyes on you, he comes completely undone under your touch. his breathing becomes completely ragged, breathy whimpers, vaguely trying to say your name the longer you stroked him. similar to how he kept going with you, you didn't back down. he begged you to stop, but you could tell he didn't really want you to stop any time soon. you kiss him to quiet his begging, continuing to overstimulate him until he came for a second time, ruining his briefs for good.

after cleaning yourselves up, harry gives you the longest, warmest, most loving hug you've ever received in your life. you bury your head in his chest, taking in the feeling and smell of his skin. his, now muscular, arms are wrapped tightly around you, holding you like harry had nothing left in this world but you.

"i love you, so much, and i'm so thankful for you." harry says, his deep voice rumbling in his chest.

you hug him even tighter. "i love you, harry,"

————————————————————

by the time next semester starts, you and harry are full-blown boyfriend and girlfriend, constantly holding hands wherever you two go and seeing each other off to your classes or study sessions. people talked amongst themselves about the harry potter having a girlfriend, but you both paid no mind.

being with you has really made harry come out of his shell. by the time spring sports roll around, harry feels confident enough to try out for the university's quidditch team. with your support, of course.

it was never a question that he'd make the team, he instantly became their new seeker and brought the school out of their losing streak. through this, harry also made tons of friends, real friends, who wanted to get to know him outside of being harry potter.

not to mention that you had become his number one fan, showing up to every game and most practices to cheer on your best friend and help him strategize for future games.

in every aspect, harry's life completely changed for the better. he loved his classes, he loved his team, and above all else, he loved you, and felt like he owed everything he had to you.

the only thing that bothered harry anymore was that jerk you dated and introduced him to at the diner, thomas.

thomas hadn't made the quidditch team this season, and he made it very clear that he blamed harry for that. he tried spreading a rumor that harry paid his way in, but people didn't buy it after seeing just how well harry played every game.

but that's not what bothered harry. what bothered him was the way thomas used you to get to him.

everyone knew you and harry were dating. it was the topic of conversation on campus for nearly a week when everyone found out. so why is it that every time thomas talked to you when he saw you alone you had to remind him that no, you can't hang out sometime soon, you have a boyfriend now? to harry it felt personal, and he didn't like it.

it was one of the most important quidditch matches of the season, it determined the university's qualification for finals. harry was on top of his game, especially seeing you cheering for him in the stands, and won the match easily, being celebrated by his team on the field.

after taking a few photos and congratulating the rest of the players, harry eagerly runs to meet you at your usual spot just beside the stands to get his usual post-win kiss.

what he finds instead makes him see red.

thomas. he has you completely backed up to the stands, a clearly heated conversation going on between you two. harry can tell you're pissed just by looking at you, speaking with your hands and trying to walk away but being stopped by thomas each time. finally you push him away, and he grabs you.

that's all harry needs to see before he begins sprinting towards him, his mind racing a million miles an hour and yet completely blank at the same time.

you had managed to push thomas off of you, now yelling at him to get the fuck away from you before you rock his shit.

before you can even try, harry tackles thomas to the ground and begins rocking his shit for you.

you gasped. "harry! stop!" you tell him, not wanting him to get caught and punished. but harry doesn't stop. you've never seen this anger from him. it's like he can't stop, not showing any signs of fatigue or resistance.

"harry! stop!" you yell at him, grabbing him from behind and pulling him away. harry stops punching thomas, only to stand above him and kick him in the stomach. "harry." you warn him, giving him a concerned look. "stop. you'll get expelled." you tell him in a hushed tone.

harry looks at you, softening, coming back to earth as you motion for him to just walk away with you. harry looks down at thomas, a bleeding mess in the dirt, crying in the fetal position.

harry kneels next to thomas, making him flinch. harry points his wand at him and mutters quickly, "episkey."

thomas's nose fixes itself, his cuts heal, and his stomach bruise lightens. he looks at harry incredulously, feeling no physical pain, but in fear of the threat harry posed.

"don't ever fucking touch her again. do you understand? next time i won't be so nice." harry growls. thomas quickly nods his head, desperate to leave. harry stands up, sneering at him still in the dirt. "and don't talk to me either while you're at it." you add at the end, your voice just as intimidating as harry's. "got that?" harry asks sarcastically. thomas nods again, standing up and running away from harry.

as he turns to you, you notice his bloody nose, multiple cuts from the game, and bruised knuckles. "oh, harry," you coo sympathetically, grabbing his hands and examining them. "come on. let's go home."

and by home, you meant to your house. the university had upgraded your room and board in exchange for you to work for them as a professor's assistant in potions. it was a small cottage just outside of campus, one bedroom, one bathroom, but it was enough for you and harry.

walking into your living room, you send harry to the bathroom as you lock the door behind you and drop your stuff off on the dining table. you grab a rag from the kitchen and get it wet with warm water.

you enter the bathroom to see a shirtless harry already attempting to clean a wound on his chest. you can see his reflection in the mirror and are completely infatuated with his focused, bloody face concentrated on his reflection as he tends to his injury.

you come up behind him, barely able to rest your chin on his tall, broad shoulders. his reflection instantly softens, his muscles relaxing.

you turn him around, cleaning the wounds on his chest, arms, and hands. his knuckles were bruised, nothing a spell couldn't fix. "you're lucky you didn't break anything." you remind him.

he watches you so intently. your gentle, caring touch bringing him instant relief. even now, all these months later, you still mesmerize him every day. he's not sure he'll ever get used to having you for himself. but that's just what you were, for himself.

"i wanted to kill him. i would've killed him." harry reminds you, rubbing his knuckles. "sit, please," you ask quietly, pulling him over to the closed toilet. harry sits down, letting out a groan as his entire body aches from quidditch and nearly killing someone.

he looks up at you, his eyes dark and angry again just thinking about it before softening at you. you bring the rag to his face, wiping away blood and dirt from his scars. a tense silence falls between you two. harry can't tell if you're angry at him for what he did. he has no idea why, that thomas kid was dead meat as soon as he decided to touch you.

as you carefully finish cleaning the last of the dirt off harry's face, you notice how tenderly he's watching you. you sigh, holding his face in your hands.

"i'm not mad at you." you say. he swears you can read him like a book.

"but, you could've gotten in serious trouble. or hurt yourself. i just don't want to be the reason you're down." you explain, rubbing a thumb along his cheek.

"i would do anything for you." he reminds you, his hand finding yours.

you smile warmly at him. you can't stay upset with him for very long.

"then do this for me: stay out of trouble."

harry smiles. no promises.

as you're getting ready for bed, harry walks in from his shower in just a pair of shorts. you walk up to him, running your hands along his torso to make sure his scars are sufficiently clean. and to just admire your boyfriend in general.

harry revealed to you some time back his real reason for working out. you found it sweet, but a bit silly, as you could handle yourself perfectly well. however, tonight, harry proved you wrong. though you were never in immediate danger or physical harm, as far as you knew, it still felt really nice to know he had your back when things got scary.

while working out definitely helped his strength, quidditch is what really made his body so exceptional.

he was perfectly toned, incredibly strong, and more buff than he ever had been his entire life. you were never someone to have a thing for muscular guys, but something about watching harry's body get better and better with time just drove you crazy.

"you know," you start off, resting your hands on his chest. you could feel his heart racing. all this time later and he's still such a nervous wreck for you.

"i may not approve of it, but…i can't deny how fucking sexy you looked beating thomas up for me,"

harry could feel his blood boil just from you mentioning that douchebag's name, but he was somewhat distracted by your observation.

"oh, really?" he smirks, grabbing your waist possessively. you instantly have goosebumps, leaning into harry's tight grip. "mhm. i haven't stopped thinking about it…you in your quidditch uniform, your muscles, the anger in your voice…" you practically swoon for him.

harry blushes, but takes advantage of the situation. "i was seeing red." he recalls. "i was seriously going to fucking kill that loser for even thinking he could touch my girl."

you're instantly turned on by his fierce protectiveness. normally you find harry's jealousy funny, since he has no reason to ever worry about you, but tonight it made you see a completely different side of him…

harry was always so soft and careful with you, and was a normally mild-tempered person with everyone. the only time he really got upset was if someone was getting too comfortable with you too quickly. to see him completely lose his cool, to watch him unleash onto this guy who thought he could just grab you…

you were just so, so attracted to him right now.

"yes, your girl, all yours," you reassure him as you lean in for a kiss. he quickly takes control and brings you to your bed, laying you down with haste. "mine. mine. mine." he reminds you between sloppy kisses.

the lingering anger within harry needs to be released, immediately.

he quickly undresses you, a complete 180 of the old harry who was afraid to help you take off your bra. he practically rips your panties in half trying to get them off of you.

you're already soaking wet from his aggression. he smirks at you. "guess i should get angry more, yeah?" harry teases.

you blush, but you wouldn't exactly be against it.

as harry slowly begins thrusting into you, he feels that familiar bliss overcome him like it does every time he's inside of you.

you and harry have had sex a couple times before, mostly slow and passionate with lots of kissing, enjoying each other's bodies and intimacy.

but this time, harry was hungry for you.

not to say he never is. he might always be hungry for you, quite literally. but this time, he lets the hunger consume him.

harry's thrusts become less careful and more desperate, he leaves dark, aching bites all over your chest, marking what's his. "mine. mine. mine." he reminds you between each bite.

you're in a state of pure ecstasy. you didn't know harry could be so rough with you. his desperation usually came in the form of shy begging, whimpering, and a desire to please. but this kind of desperation was aggressive, jealous, and aimed to please himself. you didn't mind, you thought it was bloody hot. you also wanted to help harry get his anger out, and you were the perfect way to do that.

as his thrusts become more possessive and sloppy, his arms rest on either side of you, the sight above you enough to make your orgasm accelerate. a sweaty, tired, aching harry, desperate to prove something to you, looking at you like you're the first meal he's had in years. his muscles flexing, veins popping out, and his breathing becomes labored.

he can feel you tightening around him and quickened his pace. "harry, harry, i'm cumming," you warn him, whining, desperate for a release.

"that's right, cum for me, baby." he groans in your ear, wrapping his arms around you as he continues pounding into you relentlessly.

watching you fall apart under him is enough to send him over the edge himself. his head is buried in your neck as he breathes heavily, moaning your name in your own ear.

"fuck, i'm gonna cum inside you, baby. can you let me do that?" harry asks you, his sweaty face desperate for your approval. you nod quickly, eager to be his release in anyway you can.

"can you take it? can you be a good girl for me?" harry loves to dirty talk, and this is the hottest it's been yet.

"please, harry, please give it to me, please, please, i need you," you beg harry, grabbing his shoulders, feeling your body prepare for its second orgasm.

"take it, baby, take it, god, you feel so good," he groans into your ear, his hips stuttering as he cums deep inside you.

your body convulses from the feeling and watching harry melt into you. his face is relieved of all anger, his eyes soft and full of love for you as he leans in to give you a sloppy kiss.

he steps back, watching his cum drip out of you, and could easily get turned on again just by the sight of you right now. but he's too tired, and he knows he has lots of time with you to do it all over again.

after cleaning up and crawling into bed, harry holds you against his chest. you're asleep in no time, steady breaths and slight snores coming from your peaceful expression. harry wraps his arm around you before leaving a kiss on top of your head.

"i love you, [y/n]. goodnight."

————————————————————

[if you actually read through all of this, i salute you. if you actually enjoyed it, pls let me know. i definitely want to post more like this in the future so i always appreciate any feedback <3 thank you!!! happy new year btw lol]

[acid-ixx]

FOAMING IN THE MOUTH AT THE FIRST CHAPTER!! the way you wrote dick still imagining reader as a small child because thats the only time he remembered them as is SO GOOD. i am living for the angst and desperation in this fic, and i can't to see how each of them react to the situation, especially damian because he and reader have the sane blood. when dick texted reader pretending everything is cool and like he didn't ignore them for thirteen years is a such a good concept. i can only imagine reader screaming on the other side because of opening the message accidentally lol. i cant stop thinking about how the reader's reaction to the text message would be like, finally moving on and healing and then boom! the trauma resurfaces and dick having the audacity to reach out while reader is having a breakdown, confused and scared for what'll happen next. sorry for filling up ur inbox!! i wrote a lot more than i thought oops take care of yourself and remember to takes breaks!!!! <3

reader when the self destructive impulses kicks in because of a family they have long gave up on finally started to notice them the moment they have moved on: 😧

no because dick grayson would infantilize you to the max. not in a "you're a toddler" way but rather he sees you as his innocent baby that he failed to guide and protect. he truly wants you to see him as the same person you view him as years ago, not wanting to be any less in the eyes of his baby bird <3

he'll admit that the things he's done is a shit move, constantly denying you when his entire schedule is flexible for the family but you.

so he should've expected to be blocked, but he just can't stomach it at all that his baby bird didn't even hesitate to cut him off in an instant! it just furthers his protective nature to a t and if it wasn't for damian suddenly appearing by the door, dick would've spiraled into insanity deeper.

what i mean by insanity is; he wouldn't sleep for days tracking you down, then he'll take you away from your wretched home and bring you back rightfully where you belong.

meanwhile, on the other side of gotham, you'd be on the verge of a panic attack, nearly splurging your guts out and trying to calm yourself with relaxation techniques. you quite literally couldn't walk straight without stumbling to the bathroom because holy shit imagine your brother whom you haven't nearly talked to for years suddenly called you! with cryptic messages no less that never implied your family's years of neglect towards you. i would be smashing my phone across the room, to be honest.

the moment he's turned a full yandere, damian would be really deep into the "blood is thicker than water" ideology when it comes to you. he'll apologize to you, glare plastered on his face and all, but compared to the others, his apology sounds so genuine yet condescending at the same time. you both are of the same blood, save for the fact that you share different mothers but that doesn't matter— he should be the favorite.

not dick, not jason, not tim, or anybody else for that matter. and he'll be shoving it in your face that he's the youngest so you should be obligated to baby him. and even if you dare make a point on how he had called you immature for your age multiple times, damian would find a way to guilt trip you and it would always fucking work. to avoid further spoilers, i wouldn't want to expand on his character traits but damian would be the worst type of pain in the ass, near the levels of dick.

[idiosyncraticrednebula]

How jealous do you have to be to state something so ridiculous, outlandish and downright false?

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for not having time to read my mutual's writing?

Met a mutual on here, bonded through fanfic, have been tight with them for a few years with pretty much no bumps in the relationship, just overall had a really good time hanging around them when I could. We both write a lot and share our writing, and occasionally we talk about that writing/workshop it in passing.

In the past few years I've gone through a ton of life changes. Most notably I went from a multi-person household to a single-person one, and I've been living alone in a prohibitively costly city for a while now working 40 hour weeks and barely scraping by. As soon as the transition started I spent the last of my free income on a shitty little laptop so I could still write, putting down words on my bus/train commutes in the morning and quite literally writing on my breaks at work because I feel insane when I can't create. I bring this up to really stress that I don't have the time for the hobby, I force myself to make the time and even then it never feels like enough.

The only thing I can really stand to do with my 3 hours of free time at night is hang out with my moots online. I'm an extrovert so being around people recharges me. If I don't have designated social time I get super depressed and can pretty much feel my soul withering away. I also feel like I should probably mention that I kinda have a slew of mental issues, personality disorders and PTSD and AuDHD and the works. Point being, shit is rough my dude, but I am a person who likes to work hard and face challenges head on and even though we strugglin, we doing it with a positive outlook.

But! I am an incredibly solution-oriented person and I have found what I personally believe to be a good balance. No one should have to live like this, but I do, and I have found a way to be happy. My writing and my social time is all load-bearing. It is not something I just choose to do on a whim, it's all planned and scheduled and I adhere to those routines very strictly because, I cannot stress this enough, I will go fucking bonkers if I don't.

I'm mutuals with a lot of writers obv, and I sadly don't have time to read their work anymore, unless I get some extra time on my days off or something gets cancelled or like, I end up taking a vacation. I carry a great amount of guilt for this, though, even though I logically know it's reasonable. I try to support them where I can, cheer them on when I see them writing and tell them how cool their ideas sound, hype them up even when I can't actually read & review.

One of the things I do is sometimes I leave a kudos on fic I haven't read. I'm not trying to be ingenuine, and if they asked me I'd tell them like 'Oh I didn't read it yet, just wanted to show support!' but to me it's kinda like ripping a paper tab off a poster so that other's feel inclined to do the same. Plus my pals get a little email and a hit of serotonin.

Except one of my acquaintances, the one I mentioned at the start here, saw that I left kudos on a couple pieces another mutual of mine wrote this year. They more or less blew up my DMs with a ton of accusatory (like, literally presented like a 'GOTCHA!') stuff about how I was selective in who's fic I read, more or less implying that I secretly held some sort of grudge or negative feeling toward them and was making the conscious decision not to read or interact with their writing because of. Something, I don't actually know what they were trying to say. They also told me they vented to their friends about this MULTIPLE times, but they never once approached me to let me know they were feeling paranoid or neglected, they literally just took the most bad faith reading of it possible and then presented that to me like it was something I intentionally did, while the whole time I was unaware.

I tried to explain to them the kudos thing, that I didn't do it to every story, just ones I caught/noticed in my busy schedule. And I laid all this out and asked, multiple times, what free time am I supposed to read with? They didn't answer, and doubled down, kept trying to show me 'proof' that I was shorting them and no one else. Once they started to realize how wrong they were they backed down, but they didn't really apologize, or admit they were wrong, and they tried to end our relationship and left every single server we were in together. Because of some other unrelated stuff going on in my life, I didn't really consider them to be a close friend, but they were someone I really held dear and would've walked through hell for if they'd asked.

I still feel like there is something I'm missing here, and that's why I wanted to ask if I'm TA. I'm a pretty good communicator but one of the things I told myself when talking down my disordered thoughts (guilt about this prior) was "no one in their right mind would use reading fanfic as a metric for friendship." Now that I've had that exact thing happen, I'm starting to think maybe those thoughts weren't so disordered. Maybe this IS a big deal, and I should think about it more, but I don't even know what the solution to that would be. I just. Don't have time to read something lovingly crafted and appreciate it for what it is. All the hours in my week are used up, I'd have to lose sleep for this and with my mental health the way it is that is not an option.

Feel free to be a brutal, my skin is thick. Thanks!

What are these acronyms?

[cyberluvzu]

TICCI TOBY DATING HEADCANONS

Ticci toby x reader

Hello people, I haven't written in years but I have some spare time and have been DROOLING over Toby lately so I thought that I could do this.

(please go easy on me I literally haven't wrote anything like this in 2 years)

- COMPLETE LOSERRRR

- Absolutely no dating experience at all

- You're his first everything

- And because you're his first everything, he gets incredibly nervous when it comes to doing new romantic things ( especially something physical)

- He wants to do all the cute couple things with you but he's scared that he's gonna end up scaring you off or making you uncomfortable

- At the beginning of the relationship he would probably be so awkward

- You'd go to hug him and he'd just stand there like🧍

- Don't get me wrong he appreciates the affection, he just doesn't know how to respond because he hasn't had a good relationship with physical touch

- After a couple of months he would slowly start to be more open to physical affection and being more romantic

- Just give the man some time

- When you get to the point of being completely comfortable with eachother he goes CRAZY BRO

- When he does get comfortable he is constantly on your ass

- He comes back from missions and immediately wants to go to sleep with you in his arms

- Bro doesn't even care if he's all bloody, he WILL have you

- You will have to pry him off of you and get him in the shower, or at least change his clothes

- After you get him to clean up he is all over you

- Holds you so close and just knocks the fuck out

- I also like to think that he'll bring you little knick knacks when he goes out

- Flowers, cool rocks, maybe a couple of things he got stole when he was in town!

- He's kinda like a crow

- In the sense of, if he likes you, you're gonna get some stuff

- He likes going on walks with you, it's nice just being alone with you, away from his life

- Is somewhat totally obsessed with you

- When he's not with you he is always thinking of you

- On his mind 24/7

- Totally infatuated with you, loves you completely.

- Has an irrational fear that he might lose you and doesn't want you to ever leave him, because you're the best thing that's happened to him

- Gets jealous, but not in the aggressive way, at least not with you

- Might go kill that person that was hitting on you, but you don't need to know that!

- Will absolutely be passive aggressive with you though

- Says little things to let you know that he's still upset at you

- He just worries he'll lose you to someone else

- Someone give bro a hug already

- Speaking of that, he absolutely adores your hugs, wants to stay in your arms forever

- He likes hugging you from behind

- He also really likes to silently creep up behind you and scare the shit out of you, but ends up giving you a hug to make up for it

- He just loves you

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

GUYS IM BEGGING ON MY HANDS AND KNEES FOR Y'ALL TO REQUEST 😭🙏

I'm literally so in the mood for writing about silly little characters now, I have so so many more headcanons for Toby and all of the other pastas, but I'm gonna post this because I've delayed doing it for a while because I'm irrationally nervous 😭

[copperbadge]

So the ADHD Handbook post struck a chord with a lot of people...

I don't think I have it in me to write the book I suggested, mainly because most of what I want to write about is variable by situation. I can't actually offer a magic formula for getting a good assessment, all I would be able to do is say "Here are the warning signs, here's my personal story, shit's just rough". Which I could do but it'd be basically an entire book of "shrug emoji". The best possible way would probably be to offer it as a workbook, like "Here is a page for you to record every communication with the clinic doing your testing. Here is a page for you to write down possible other approaches to getting your medication if the pharmacy is out." etc.

I do think I might write it as a novel of some kind. Possibly even a novel about someone writing a handbook, I haven't decided. I had a dream last night about the book, in which I saw a woman watching a revolution taking place in the distance, thinking, "This is not what I intended when I set out to write a self-help book." Baller way to start a novel, honestly.

Anyway there were several suggestions for books in the notes, so I thought I'd compile those here. I have read none of these, so I can't vouch for their contents, but I'm including what my readers said about them.

@blogquantumreality linked to How To ADHD by Jessica McCabe, who is a well-known ADHD youtuber (I haven't found her videos super helpful but they're also not aimed at me). @knitsinweirdplaces added "The last section of the How to ADHD book is literally called 'how to change the world' and exactly points out we can advocate for a more disability friendly world that traumatizes ADHDer less in the first place. It's the only book I've read that hits the balance of 'your brain has immutable challenges' and 'these strats may help' right. Bonus, it is inclusive of people who use adhd meds and those who don't/can't."

@theindefinitearticle mentioned "I read how to keep house while drowning recently and it's been much more practical for me in terms of actual usable advice." This book has also come up numerous times during National Clean Your Home Month as a helpful guide to cleaning.

@buginateacup said "The year I met my brain is the only one I've read that actually felt like it was making useful suggestions for living with ADHD."

@cabloom said "iampayingattention on Instagram wrote How Not To Fit In."

@grison-in-space said "Do you have any idea how over the top excited I was when I found I Overcame My Autism and All I Got Was This Lousy Anxiety Disorder?"

@doubleminorforroughing wrote "Please read Devon Price. He wants to tear it all down and I love it." I will add that I don't think I've read Laziness Does Not Exist but I have read Price's shortform work extensively and I think he's been very influential in rethinking how we frame laziness and productivity in relation to both work and neurodivergence, so I can second the recommendation.

[seat-safety-switch]

Our way of life is controlled by computers in a way that was unthinkable just a few decades ago, unless you were a particularly paranoid hippie. If that's the case, then congrats, you nailed it. Please collect your reward at the office, which is "suffering in obscurity for years as the world falls apart around you."

One of the ways in which computers have an influence over our lives is what folks who have never taken a math class call "the algorithm." Even though it's a word that the ancient Greeks used because they hadn't taken enough high school French to use the word "recipe" instead, the YouTube algorithm is the ultimate fear-spewing threat to civil discourse in our time.

What it actually does is feed you more of what you want. Those of you out there who have ever seen a small child know that this is a terrible idea. The last thing you want to do is just keep giving a toddler more of what the toddler wants, forever. The folks who wrote this shit either didn't have kids or forgot what they looked like in their pursuit of the sweet, sweet IPO money they didn't get.

There is good news, though. It can only feed you more of what it has. If you're an inveterate car pervert like me, then you have interests that are so niche that the content farm runs dry quickly. Literally four other people in the entire planet are making Plymouth Volare videos, and YouTube is not exactly paying them to make those videos faster than I can watch them. So it comes up with something else instead. Something popular, normal, average human, which I immediately reject in favour of even more degenerate garbage "curated" by my own bad taste. It takes this as a personal insult. Whole thing's out of balance.

Friends, the only thing that I see now when I open YouTube on the library computers is a screaming silicon face, begging me for the sweet release of death. I push F5 to refresh the browser tab until a new Volare video pops up. It's going to take awhile, which is okay. The librarians haven't figured out I'm charging my car battery off the hard drive power cables yet.

[chaepink]

good girls are bad girls (that haven't been caught) | sub!kuroo tetsurou

wc: 2k+ words | masterlist

dom!fem!reader (however it can be read as gn!reader as no body parts are mentioned), begging, crying, teasing, mean!reader, degrading, insulting, slight hair pulling, marking, slight bondage, clothed touching, praising, mention of the reader fucking/marking other people, kuroo is kinda shitty at first, theres plot and smut isn't until later down

note : this is very loosely based off of 'good girls' by 5sos and oh my god i wrote a lot. also I literally wrote this in 4 different sections and had to write in between in order to get to all 4 parts...

"Kuroo, you're failing all your classes except gym. How's that even possible?!" Kuroo shrugs nonchalantly, not paying attention at all and instead opting to look outside the window.

The teacher sighs, taking off her glasses and rubbing her temples. 5 minutes in and she is already getting a headache dealing with him.

"You're a third year already, you should be focusing on studying to get good grades in order to graduate," she says, grabbing the nearby stack of paper on her desk and organizing it. "Lucky for you, however, someone agreed to help tutor you for your main subjects."

"Yeah sure, whatever. Can I go now?" He's had plenty of tutors already and all of them quit only a few days in due to him being uncooperative whenever they tried to help him. He rather enjoys watching them give up and leave him at the library. She sighs again.

"Her name is, [name]. I think you may know her. After all, she's a third-year like you and is at the top of her class."

Kuroo snaps his attention toward his teacher. Did he hear that right?

You're gonna be his tutor? The school's well-known good girl? The girl who gets nothing but straight A's for every piece of schoolwork? Shit. Sure you may be a good tutor and all but he's heard numerous rumors of how strict you are when you're tutoring and he doesn't feel like dealing with it anytime soon.

"Ah, so you know their name at least." She can't help but smile. Finally, he gives her his attention. "They've agreed to tutor you right after school a few days a week at the back of the library-" He scoffs.

"The back of the library? Obviously, she chooses that spot. She's there every single day!"

His teacher gives him a stern look for cutting her off.

"You should be grateful. Today will be the first day she tutors you. She said she would be there on time so don't be late, I'm sure you'll do just fine."

"Yeah right," he mumbles under his breath.

"I heard that."

---

He's late by over 20 minutes, not that he really cares anyways.

As he strides into the library, he looks around and rolls his eyes. The library was practically empty with only a few students sitting at tables and the librarian quietly typing on her computer.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees some students staring at him though not very subtlety. They're either staring due to just clearly being attracted to him or just surprised that he, the school's infamous fuckboy, was at the library. He likes to think that it's the former.

While walking to the back of the library, he notices that the number of students start to decrease. Eventually, he makes it to the very back and sees you. He sneers in disgust at all the books on the table and the open notebook in front of an unoccupied chair.

As he sits down, the chair scraps against the floor which catches your attention. With a blank face, you acknowledge him with a nod.

"My name is [name]," you say. "It's nice to meet you."

He holds back from rolling his eyes from how formal you're being.

"Yeah whatever, I already knew that. Name's Kuroo." If you're taken aback by his forwardness, you don't show it. Instead, you go to open a book that he notices is a math one and he groans.

"From what I've been told, your math grade is the lowest." Though it's on the tip of your tongue, you hold yourself from mentioning that it was the lowest grade by only a few points.

"Well then, let's begin."

---

"That's incorrect. Here, I'll show you." You write down the problem and answer it so quickly and so effortlessly that it makes Kuroo groan in frustration.

You hold back from rolling your eyes. While you knew he would be a pain in the ass to tutor, you didn't expect him to be this annoying. Every question you've asked him so far, he's got wrong. Additionally, he's barely paying attention. By now, it's past the time that you expected the session to last. You keep checking your watch and you swear time is slowing down. You wish for the library to close already.

Your irritated mood almost makes you punch him in the face but you're keeping yourself from doing that. Unfortunately.

You have to keep a good reputation, [name]. How would everyone react if they found out you punched a dude out of pure annoyance?

However, your reputation is probably the last thing you care about right now.

Wrong question after wrong question makes you even more irritated and you swear you're about to break.

"Are we done?" You shake your head. He still has yet to answer a question right.

"What? We're not? Why?" He stares at you with a confused look that infuriates you even further and you're about to answer back until he cuts you off.

"Whatever, you're going to quit just like all the other stupid tutors anyways. Besides, even if you're the school's good girl, I bet you do all sorts of stuff back here if you know what I mean-"

You abruptly grab him by his tie and force him closer to you with only a few inches between you two.

"Shut the fuck up." You snarl at him. "Holy shit are you so stupid! You can't even answer these basic math questions that even an fucking elementary student can!"

You let go of his tie and watch him back up in shock and trip over his chair, making him fall down onto the floor.

Frustrated, you're about to pack up your stuff until you see something on his pants. A bulge.

You freeze as you gape at it. Holy shit.

Kuroo follows your stare and immediately covers it, face ablaze. "S-stop looking! It's n-not what it seems like!"

As you process the situation, a devilish grin slowly makes its way onto your face. As you make your way closer to him, he backs up into the bookshelf, watching your every step. Nervousness is painted on his face. It looks rather good on him.

"Oh really? From my perspective, however," you start, bending down so that you're face to face with him and his warm face. "It looks like you're hard from me yelling at you." He feels himself getting even harder and he squeezes his eyes shut, not daring to look at you.

"You know, you're actually right." Kuroo flitches, not expecting to hear your voice so close to his ear. "Unlike what people might think, I don't read books back here all the time."

Kuroo is bright red by now, not daring to open his eyes, and instead lowers his head. He swears that if he does, he'll cum right on the spot from seeing you above him looking down with those eyes of yours.

Your warm breath fans his ear and he can't suppress the shiver that runs through his body.

"W-what do you mean?" The question comes out as a cute whisper. You smirk. "Well, who do you think gave all your friends those hickeys, hm?"

You draw back, watching him slowly open his eyes as the cogs in his head turn as he thinks. Fuck. He looks so adorable when he's confused with his eyebrows furrowed and lips forming a small pout.

That's until he realizes and you can't help but grin when it shows upon his face.

"Your friends are all rather adorable, you know? Especially Kenma. They're such good listeners when I tutor that I can't help but give them a little reward. They were even in the same exact position that you're in right now! All teary-eyed as they oh so kindly begged me to touch them."

Tears prickle Kuroo's eyes.

"Aww, are you jealous?" You feign a pout. "Why? Is it because you only want me to do this to you?"

He immediately nods his head, not caring about his reputation anymore. He just wants you to focus on him and forget his friends.

"How cute." You carefully land on your knees in front of him and untie the tie from his neck and instead use it to tie his hands behind his back. You put one of your hands on the bookshelf behind him to stable yourself.

His breath quickens when he feels your hand ghost over his chest. His senses are heightened as he patiently waits for you to do something. Anything!

"You sure you want to continue?" He nods again.

A whimper escapes him as you immediately scrunch his vest and shirt up, exposing his nipples to the cold air. He feels you place your knee between his legs and a hand on his chest.

He can't quiet his noises as you begin stimulating his whole body. A part of him tries to focus on either you teasing and touching his nipples or the knee that keeps on rubbing against his clothed dick but he can't. Only minutes in and he's already hot all over. It's clear that he's enjoying it.

"Shh, be quiet Kuroo. Don't want everyone to know that you're such a whore for me, right?"

Sobs, mewls, and whimpers leave him as he gets used like a toy for you. He doesn't care that others may hear him, he just wants you to keep going. He's so hard that it hurts.

"Look at you," you say with a sneer, "I barely touched you and you're already so hard. Are you always like this with all the other girls you've fucked? A slut?"

"S-stop it," he sobs, "I'm not h-hard- ah ah!" He gasps as your knee drives against his hard-on and your hand tweaks one of his nipples, watching as he throws his head back slightly and bites his lip to keep his noises in.

"Oh really?" You raise an eyebrow at him. "Then what's this obvious tent in your pants then, hm?" You prove your point by sharply thrusting your knee against it again, forcing another muffled whimper to escape him.

He tries hiding his face by turning it to the side but you immediately grab his chin using your free hand and force him to look at you.

"Don't," you start to say, giving him a glare. "Try covering your face. Got it?" He nods obediently and you can't help but smile.

"Good boy," you say, giving him a quick peck on the cheek. He whimpers at that.

"Oh? Who knew the school's fuckboy would love being called a good boy so much? Maybe I should call you that in front of your friends." You shrug casually. "You know, to see their reaction as your face flushes up and dick hardens. Hell, I bet you'll even like that."

He widens his eyes.

"N-no! Pleas- fuck!" He's close and you know it. Another timed squeeze of his nipple and move of your knee against his dick has him crying. It feels too good.

A tug of his hair elicits a mewl from him as he feels you bite a spot on his neck that has his eyes rolling. You continue biting and licking that spot until you're sure that it'll stay purple for a few days.

Licking your lips, you move back slightly, not enough that you have to stop your movements but enough for you to check out your work.

With his legs spread open, head thrown back, neck marked, and face flushed, Kuroo looked absolutely breathtaking.

"I-Im close!" And it looks like Kuroo is about to cum too. You take a quick glance at the clock and grin. You lean towards his ear.

"Time's up, Kuroo."

Your whisper makes him jump but right when he's about to tell you that he's going to cum, a louder voice from far away shakes him out of his headspace.

"Library closes in 5 minutes!" You stop. No no no.

Quickly standing up, you give him a slight shrug. "Guess the tutoring session is over, Kuroo."

"No! Please! D-don't go!" Ignoring his pleas and sobs, you grab your stuff and right as he thinks you're heading back to him, you only just untie his hands and nothing more.

As you're about to walk out of his sight, he sees you aim your phone at him and click the screen. After, you blow him a kiss and a wink.

"Next session is tomorrow! Don't be late!" And then you're gone, leaving Kuroo all sweating and still hard. Fuck.

Let's just say that he got to next the session rather early.

ty for reading to the end! ❤ - chaepink

╰┈➤ masterlist | rules

[xcherryerim]

˖⁺ ⊹୨ Fogged up ୧⊹ ⁺˖

Derek with glasses x gn!reader (wc: 3k)

I might make it wonderful for once. In my life but nothing's quite like it was. Surprised something inside me is a blur. Hindsight I should've lifted my eyes — Blur by The marías

SMUT ONE SHOT | MDNI | +18

WARNING: Sexual tension | friends with benefits | thigh riding | handjob | penetration | in the middle of sex love confession and rambles | Porn with plot | Not proofread (literally did not revised this once so, shitty probably) | no use of y/n. | quicky | Needy Derek for life!

credits for the derek with glasses edit: strwbrryhutch

Backstory: In a sudden visit to your best friend's house, you stepped inside, immediately taking notice of something different, Derek was wearing glasses, a sight you had not seen since your freshman year in college. The sight of him wearing glasses immediately brought back a flood of memories of the old Derek.

Today was a drag, and what does a bored person do? Meddle in someone's business just for shits and giggles.

You summoned your driver, instructing him to take you straight to Derek's mansion. Unsolicited visits were common between you two, it never phased him or you, especially if it meant fucking his brains out. 

Stepping into the white palace, you couldn't help but admire the gaudy paintings adorning the walls. The colors and patterns were disgusting and loud to the eye, a familiar sight at that. It was, truly…Derek. 

You strutted in, hands swaying rhythmically, plotting ways to tease the man, but upon entering his office, surprise struck: Derek, the epitome of irresponsibility, was actually working? And to top it off, he had the audacity to wear glasses.

A soft snicker escaped your lips, but before you could voice your thoughts, Derek flipped you off, his gaze still glued to his laptop. "Fuck off." Derek's voice was rough, weary, and irritated.

"Hello to you too, prick." You retorted, lowering his raised finger before leaning closer to his desk, curious at this newish side of him. "What's up?" 

"I need to write an email to some asshole I don't care about." He sighed.

"Isn't your secretary the one who's supposed to handle that?" You questioned, bewildered by his predicament. You snatched his vape, blowing the air back at him in a show of defiance.

"Yeah, but she’s on a break because she just popped out a kid or something."

"Derek! You knocked up your secretary?!"

"What?! No," he stuttered, backtracking. "I haven't— never mind." Derek reclaimed his mint-colored e-cigarette, taking a long drag before exhaling the smoky air from his plump lips. 

"Let me see your masterpiece." Inclining beside him, you scrutinized the Word document. Your eyes widened in amusement as you saw only three meek words. 

"Motherfucker, you wrote three words. You're like SpongeBob in that meme, taking forever to write, 'The.' "

Derek's face flushed bright red as he realized how embarrassing this situation had become. His arrogance and self-assuredness crumbled momentarily as he was caught in such a vulnerable state. A small whimper escaped his lips, but he quickly regained his composure. “What does that even mean? You’re fucking weird.” He muttered, trying to salvage his pride. 

"Whatever." You waved your hand as if to vanish the conversation, then you asked, "Why the glasses, though?" 

"My contacts were drying the fuck out of my eyes from overuse, so the eye doctor or whatever, suggested I wear these more often." Derek explained, mumbling to himself, trying to decide what next words to write.

God," you grinned, your eyes sparkling with nostalgia. "I haven't seen you wear those glasses since we were freshmen.”

“Don’t fucking remind me.” Derek groaned, tugging at his face, a tic indicative of his discomfort.

“You were such a dork.” Laughter escaped you, and you idly ran your finger along the rim of his dark blue sleeve, the material smooth and luxurious.

"Don't you have anything better to do than bothering me?!" His squinty eyes held a hint of annoyance.

“Honestly? no, not really.” You replied nonchalantly, moving behind the chair to get close to him. Your index finger lightly tapped the temples of his spectacles, sporting a distinctive animal print. If he wasn’t wearing the glasses, you would mistake them for an old lady's pair. 

“Does it look like a give a fuck? Because I don’t.” Derek mocked, standing tall. “Now, go do something while I finish this dumbass fucking email.” Derek orders, typing on his laptop as he bit his lip, forcing himself to concentrate on the task at hand. 

Tilting your head, you eyed the man with sun-bleached locks, in dire need of root touch-ups. It was like an impromptu trip down memory lane to the college library, where the studious Derek sat.

His square-rimmed glasses, unkempt hair, and outfit fit for Mister Rogers made him appear as a librarian in disguise, until you noticed the dumbass was wearing his student ID like a first grader. Despite looking like a librarian, there was something charming and endearing about his appearance. You couldn't help but fantasize about seducing him, pinning him against the nearest wall, and making him surrender to you.

Fate, however, took its time. Instead, a deep friendship between you and Derek developed. As time passed, you watched him transform into the man he is today. The memory of that encounter lingered in your mind, like a sweet, comforting scent, as you observed him in the present moment.

You chuckled to yourself as you reflected on the past, watching Derek in the present moment. A thought suddenly crossed your mind: "How would my younger self react if I said that Derek and I would actually become friends with benefits?"

That particular day was indelibly etched in your memory. It was Mickey's birthday, and Derek, intoxicated by merriment and possibly something stronger, seized your hand amidst Mickey's rambling speech. He led you to Mickey's room, and once the door closed, his unsteady form collided with yours. His mouth found your lips, leaving a trail of wet kisses. He proceeded by telling his desire to fuck you in that black outfit you were wearing at the party. From that night on, things had remained the same yet shifted in the shadows, with a newfound intimacy between the two of you.

The flood of memories overwhelmed you, your mind spinning. Your gaze settled on Derek, who appeared perplexed and agitated. 

“What are you looking at? Why are you still—“ 

Invading his space as you sat on his thigh, you prompted a sharp intake of breath from him. The lenses of his glasses misted over, a testament to the rapidity of Derek's breathing. 

He swallowed hard, trying to regain control. “Really, right now? When I'm busy? I swear you always pick the worst time on purpose. Fucking brat.” 

His fingers gripped the edge of his desk, knuckles turning white as he struggled to focus on anything other than the sensation of your body on his thigh. His eyes scanned your body, taking in your every curve and movement. 

“Shut the fuck up.” You growled, tugging at his hair to emphasize your point, garnering a lustful rumble from his lips. "You know you love it." Moving your hips, you teased him, causing his head to roll back, a smirk spreading across his face.

“And if you wanna talk about brats, I suggest taking a look in the mirror.” 

“Pfff.” Derek muttered, hands trying to remove his glasses before you stopped him. “What?!” He asked, clearly annoyed.

“Keep them.” You said, more than a demand than a request. 

“What, why? I look goofy as shit.” Derek huffed, giving you a look that screamed annoyance.

A quiet moan slipped from Derek's lips as your hands roamed over the fabric, his excitement growing more apparent. His voice came out muffled, "H-how am I supposed to fuck you with these glasses on?"

"You'll figure it out," you replied playfully, slowly tugging the glasses down his nose. The intoxicating scent of his desire permeated the air.

In a swift motion, you dominated his body, your lips hungrily seeking his. Derek, still fumbling to discard his glasses due to the steamy makeout session, met your demanding grip.

Grabbing his wrist, you halted his attempts to remove them. After enduring his persistent complaints, he finally relented, accepting your terms – if he wanted to be fucked, he'd have to keep the glasses on for you.

“Great, now I can’t see shit.” Derek grumbled as you created some distance between you two.

"Exactly," you chimed, a mischievous glint in your eye.

"Hey, if you're into that, we could always try a literal blindfold. We've done it before, haven't we?”

"True, but it's not the same, Derek." You replied, your warm hands caressing the cold zipper of his pants. Slowly, you pulled it down, exposing his cheetah-print boxers.

“You look hot with glasses, you know? I didn't think I'd miss such a small detail, but... I guess I did." You shrugged, a wistful smile playing on your lips.

Derek caught your expression, picking up on the bittersweet nostalgia that seemed to surround you.

"Wait, so you're implying that you found me attractive back in college?" Derek asked, seeking validation for his former self more than genuine inquiry.

"Come on, you dress like a mess and people still think you're hot. A pair of glasses isn't going to change that." You teased, followed by a soft sigh. "But yeah, I did have a thing for you back then. I actually had a little crush on you."

Derek's eyes widened, the glasses making them appear even larger and more vibrant, perfectly complementing the blush that crept across his tanned skin. You see his Adam's apple bob up and down as he gulps hard, his lips quivering as he struggles to find the right words. It's clear he's desperate to say something, anything, but he remains tongue-tied.

Finally, he places his hands on you, guiding your body to grind against his neglected leg. "So... you're not saying anything?" Your voice carries a delicate mix of playfulness and uncertainty. You can't help but wonder if you've crossed a line by being so honest, or if you're just setting yourself up for rejection.

Those fears race through your mind, but you try to mask them with a lighthearted tone. You can't help but feel exposed, vulnerable, as you wait for his response.

"I don't know what to say," Derek stumbled over his words, his hands shaking as they gripped your hips. "I've had feelings for you since day one, but I never felt good enough for you. So finding out you've liked me all this time... it makes me feel fucking pathetic."

His breathing grew ragged, heart pounding against his chest, rendered speechless by the vulnerability of his confession and the intense burn coursing through him from your touch.

"You're still pathetic," you whispered, lips trailing along his neck, fingers deftly freeing his straining erection from his boxers. "But you're my pathetic."

The declaration hung in the air, charged with a mix of affection and desire. Derek's entire being was consumed by the sensation of your touch, the weight of your words, leaving him utterly at your mercy.

"Oh, fuck," Derek whimpered, his back arching in response to your kisses and nibbles along his neck. Your fingers traced his veins, adding to the sensory overload caused by the foggy glasses.

"I have to finish writing this email before five," he insisted, biting his lip to stifle any further cries.

"So what? I'm just here to help. You can still write your email without being too distracted," you replied mischievously, guiding his trembling hands back to the keyboard.

Annoyed but complying, Derek attempted to type as your hand began to stroke him. His fingers moved clumsily across the keys, resulting in a disjointed and sloppy email. He grunted, struggling to focus on the task at hand and the intense sensations consuming him.

"You're making this more difficult than it needs to be," he growled, his voice dripping with desire.

"That's my favorite part," you replied with a wicked grin, increasing the tempo of your strokes. Your fingers teased the tip each time they reached the top, driving Derek wild with pleasure.

As he cursed under his breath, you pressed your hips against his leg once more, making his head roll back in ecstasy. 

Derek let out a guttural hiss, clenching his jaw to suppress the urge to cry out in pleasure. His body tense, veins popping in his neck as he fought to maintain control.

"Oh Derek, we're just getting started," you teased. "Come on baby, finish that email for me so we can have some real fun."

“Ugh! I’m going to kill you... eventually, once I’m done with this.” Derek's eyes were twitching as he tried to focus on the screen, those glasses now a nuisance amidst his stress. 

"You know you'd miss me terribly if I wasn't around to pester you all the time, you bitch," you whispered in his ear, your breath hot against his skin.

Derek's body shook, barely able to contain thirst, the overwhelming sensations threatening to push him past the point of no return. His whiny, desperate pleas fell on deaf ears as you dismissed his empty threats.

"Let me take a look at what you've got so far," you insisted, turning your head slightly to scan the jumbled words on the screen. "C'mon Derek, I won't let you finish until you've written something actually decent."

Derek's eyes widened in shock as he realized the gibberish he'd been typing, which only added to his frustration. He growled, his grip on the keyboard tightening as his thrusts into your hand became more forceful, bordering on desperate.

With great effort, he managed to string together a few coherent sentences, his arousal and irritation bleeding into every word. His breaths came in ragged gasps, heart pounding, as he fought to focus on the task at hand.

Finally, Derek declared he was done, but instead of relief, you intensified your assault on his aching shaft and thigh, teasing him mercilessly as you slowly read the email aloud.

"Wow, looks like you really do need to pay people to do your work for you," you mumbled with a light chuckle.

Derek's face flushed a deep crimson, his skin burning with a mix of embarrassment and pure, raw desire. "Fuck you, you're not helping," he spat, his voice strained with longing.

Despite his determination to stay composed, the relentless teasing combined with the foggy glasses and your skilled hand on his length pushed Derek closer and closer to the end. His eyes rolled back, overwhelmed by the intense sensations surging through his body.

"Please, just fuck me," he whimpered, the words barely audible as he struggled to contain his desperation.

Unable to resist his pleading, puppy-dog eyes, you swiftly straddled him, guiding his shaft to your waiting sex.

A thrill of anticipation ran through him, the feeling of your warmth surrounding him almost driving him over the edge. Derek's grip on your waist tightened as his cockhead teased your entrance. The anticipation was maddening, and he could feel his control slipping with each passing second.

"Please, just take me." His voice was a hoarse whisper, desperation thick in every word. He was at your mercy, the heat and wetness around his tip driving him wild.

“You’re so fucking impatient.” You growled, as you slowly sank into him, taking all of him inside you. 

Derek let out a loud cry, his body arching up off the chair as you enveloped him. The feeling was intense, and he clutched at you, his nails digging into your skin.

He was at your mercy, his body shuddering as you took your time with him, savoring the feeling of being so completely inside you. His mouth opened, but no words came out, the sensation too overwhelming to form even a coherent thought.

His glasses, still fogged, only added to the sensory overload, the world outside blurring as all he could focus on was the way you moved on him.

Each inch inside you was a gift, a blessing, and he was lost in the feeling of possessing you, even for a moment.

“Well you being teasing me all fucking night.” Derek replied back in between ragged breaths 

Derek's breathing grew more erratic, the wish to claim you, to be inside you, to taste you, to possess you, all-consuming. "Fuck, just... ride me."

He gripped your waist, his body arching off the chair, desperate for more. His heart raced, and he could barely breathe as he awaited your next move.

“Someone really needs to teach you fucking patience.” You replied moving your body against his, with each word using more force than the last, the harsh sound of skin against skin echoing in the room of the mansion. 

Derek's moans grew louder, each word you spoke followed by a groan, his body bucking against you, desperate for more.

“So fucking tight." Derek cried, his voice heavy with lust. He couldn't help but buck his waist, trying to take you deeper, leaving faint crescents in their wake. "Fuck... I need to fill you up." He gritted out. The crave to mark you, overwhelming him. His glasses, still mist over, served only as a lens to the whirlwind of lust consuming him. 

“Till I'm dripping with your cum Derek.” You answered, nibbling in his ear. Derek grabbed your ass, guiding it and bouncing it up and down around his length. 

"I'm not gonna- I’m not going to last much longer." He gasped out, his voice thick with lust, the words barely coherent as he struggled to maintain control.

The room was filled with the sounds of skin slapping against skin, their movements growing more urgent, more primal. Derek's glasses clouded, his vision blurred, the only thing that mattered was the feeling of possessing you, the way your body fit around him, the way you rode him.

He was powerless against the tide of lust that washed over him, the line between desire and need blurring as he teetered on the brink.

“Me neither.” You replied, your body jumping above his as you took him in and out. 

Derek's body tensed, the scent of your arousal filling his nostrils, driving him further into the abyss. "Baby, I'm... I'm gonna..."

His voice hitched, the warning barely out before a hot spurt of cum filled you, the orgasm tearing through him like a tidal wave. His grip on your tightened, his nails digging in as he shuddered, each spurt a testament to his lust.

You soon reach your orgasm after, your tight walls milking him dry. 

The world spun around him, the fogged glasses only adding to the dizzying sensation. He was left panting, his body spent, the aftershocks of the orgasm coursing through him as he tried to regain his breath.

Derek's eyelids fluttered, and he leaned his head back against the chair, the realization that he'd just been completely dominated, sinking in.

The nepo baby, the spoiled son of the president, had been brought to his knees by his closest friend. It was both humiliating and exhilarating, an experience he knew he wouldn't forget.

He whispered, nipping gently. "You win, brat." 

Thank you for taking the time to read my work! If you're specifically interested in my explicit content, be sure to follow me on @xxxcherryerim, where I'll be reblogging my work from there. Alternatively, you could join my taglist

tags 🍒: @wemnui @freak-accident419 @joshfutturman

@sleepyhutcherson @h3len1602

[narcjsistx]

𝐔𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐃 | kaiser x reader

— part six

plot: kaiser comforted you after a bad and slow breakup, but what will happen now considering what you two shared? is everything still unexpected or is there something you both simply have yet to realize?. fluff shit 'cause yeah!!

words: 2.8k (2821)

extra: it will probably become a multi part story, tell me if you're interested in a part seven!. really a little suggestive at the end but it's literally nothing, but I thought it was right to say it

𝐌𝐘 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ; take a look, trust me!. you can find the other parts of the story by searching in the section dedicated to bllk

The bags fall to the floor almost immediately, dropped from your hands that can no longer hold them. Michael's eyes are fixed on you, and you struggle, even for a few seconds, to hold his gaze. You reflect in his cerulean eyes a subspecies of betrayal, or even hatred; in all the years that you have known him, he has never looked at you like this, and it scares you. You shake more than you should, you even feel difficulty breathing. If hell wants to take you, it's succeeding. You immediately regret even opening that drawer

The letter, clean and tidy, shines on the table: the white, shiny paper, now seems to have your finger prints on it, prints that should only have been Kaiser's when he wrote it. The air is heavy, and heavy is your sense of oppression now

"Micheal I can-" you say almost in a whisper, but you remain silent when you see him take the letter in his hand "Sit down" he says while his eyes now scan the writings he himself has written. You swallow nervously, and quickly do as he says, sitting parallel to him, in the chair in front of his

You watch him as he rereads the letter once, twice, five, ten times, always taking the same amount of time. He never dares to look up at you, not even when he takes a break between readings. After minutes that seem endless, the only sound that escapes his lips is a heavy sigh, perhaps held in for a long time; one hand places the letter back on the table, the other reaches the bridge of his nose, which he massages with his fingers. He's visibly shaken, and you don't blame him, you're still shaking after all these minutes too

"So..." he says after a moment, taking his time to perhaps choose the right words "You read everything" he says looking up a little

You feel the skin on your body almost not sticking to your bones anymore, a sensation that you haven't felt even in one of your worst arguments with Gabriel. Probably if it had happened to you some time ago you wouldn't have understood the reason for this feeling, but now after all you know how to explain it: you love Michael, you're worried that he doesn't want to see you anymore after this. You care about him, about his opinion, about everything he does, unlike Gabriel

If until now, or at least until a few months ago, Gabriel was the person you worried about most in the world, now that role is played by another person. And this person is Micheal Kaiser

You want to talk, make up an excuse, but you know it wouldn't make sense; right now everything is too obvious, there are no openings to escape to and honestly you don't even want to lie to Micheal. The words die in your mouth, making you stay silent and without a truth to say. You stay silent because you don't know how to explain everything, and Micheal seems to notice your difficulty, because it seems more attentive

"I really don't know what to say to you either, Y/n. I wouldn't have even in the worst case scenario imagined something like this" he says with a calmness that hides so much anger, which you can see in the way he holds back some words "I just wonder why you would want to read something like this, especially considering it was hidden. Haven't you asked yourself why it was hidden?" he asks, but it's a question you know you can't answer because he's right "I'm just wondering... what the fuck is wrong with you? I really need to know, because now you know everything about me, that I've loved you for too long, that I dreamed that you were my wife, but what do I know about you?" he asks smiling almost hysterically, probably because of anxiety

The weight of the situation seems to crush you as if you were a simple feather: it kills you, it leaves you suffering and with each passing second it seems to strangle you more and more. Kaiser looks at you, waiting for answers that you have but that you don't really know how to explain to him. You can't explain to him how much you, only after years of him being in love with you, understood that you loved him too. You can't explain to him how hard it is for you to see the hatred he feels for you now, which he absolutely has the right to feel, but which still hurts

You can't explain to him how much you now just want to tell him that you would like to resolve the situation by kissing him and starting over something that probably just needs communication between the two of you

"You had the courage to read all that but not answer me?" he asks, raising an eyebrow, and you look down, keeping your hands in fists in your lap "You think you can solve everything with your silence? No, fuck, you can't, because this is literally a violation of my privacy. Do you realize how much I feel like shit right now knowing that you know things that I've kept from you for years just so our relationship wouldn't go to hell?" he says, and his tone of voice rises a little "Do you really have the courage to say nothing after finding out I love you?" he says, but the last sentence sounds more like a whisper desperate than an exclamation of complete meaning

"Micheal, please" you say with a shaky voice, trying to get a little bit of his pity, but you hear him laughing in an almost amused way "Please? You beg me? And what am I supposed to do, beg you to forget everything I've written over the years on those pieces of paper? Are you seriously asking me to give you a break when you literally did everything yourself, sticking your nose into things that didn't concern you?" he says, but at the last sentence you feel something inside you stir "They didn't concern me? Are you kidding?" you ask looking up, and you notice surprise in his eyes when he sees you answer him "That's not what matters, you literally discovered things that you shouldn't have known even when you were dead" he says, and for the umpteenth time it seems unfair to you "You should have told me" you say with a sudden conviction, but one that you don't really feel. You're just trying to find a way to calm him down, but with strange methods

In your eyes, Micheal seems to be on the verge of breaking. Everything he has kept inside for years is threatening to come out and he himself is realizing it. Everything he kept in his Pandora's box is now coming out like a menacing monster

"What was I supposed to tell you? That every night since you've been with that man, I hoped he'd die so I could finally tell you the truth? That I wanted to see you smile so badly that I gave 101% in matchs knowing you were watching me? That I dreamed for years of the feeling of being able to call you my girlfriend without being afraid? That I spent days locked in the house when you said you were leaving for Italy and leaving me alone? That everything I did was to make you happy and make you see that it wasn't just normal affection?

That I kissed other girls hoping it was your lips and not theirs? That I dreamed a million times of a future where you were my wife? That I always had a bottle of your perfume that I carried with me when I was out of town? That there's a picture of you and me as teenagers in my wallet?

That I lost weight when I found out Gabriel was taking you away from me? That Ness himself always thought me that you didn't feel the same way about me? That every time I saw you walk by I dreamed of you running to hug me?

That I dreamed of another universe where I could really be happy with you, where we were together, we could kiss and hug each other, we were husband and wife, we even had children, where everything was really perfect at least in my eyes?

That you were the only one I cried for? That you are the only person who knew what I went through with that asshole of a father of mine? That the feeling of even hearing your name made me happy? That seeing you after months of separation was like a liberation? That loving you for me was the only great joy my life has given me? That for me you are always be everything?

That ever since I found out that you and Gabriel fought often I was happy? That every time you told me about your arguments I hoped you would break up? That I hoped that the last fight was really the last? That running to you in Italy after your breakup was the moment I looked forward to more than when I have to score a goal? That feeling your arms around my neck while you hugged me after so long made me feel alive? That the sensation of finally having your lips on mine was like entering heaven? That letting you love me that night was like I had never really experienced anything, because there was no comparison in having sex with you?

How could I tell you all this, Y/n, knowing that it wasn't reciprocated? That by doing so I would be pushing away the only person whose thoughts about me I truly care about?"

The tremor you were feeling until now seems to disappear, replaced now by a feeling of liberation that perhaps Kaiser is feeling now too. The weight that was crushing you to death lifts as all his thoughts come to the surface, thoughts so intimate that not even letters could have

Kaiser has unconsciously risen from his chair, his arms stretched out against the table. He is breathing heavily, and it seems only now that he realizes what he has actually said, that the monster he kept in his Pandora's box has come out and destroyed the entire village. It seems as if what he has wanted to say for years has come out now, but he had not kept in mind the consequences of his words. For the first time, he seems like the least alien stranger you've ever met: you didn't know his feelings, but now his words have weight of no small importance

The real Micheal Kaiser, after years, is finally before your eyes, alive as only a human can be, dressed with a level of intimacy that probably few people can reach. Micheal Kaiser has finally shown who he is to the person he has always loved with an almost impossible level

"Micheal, I-!" you say, getting up from your chair too, but something inside you seems to block you from moving. It's time, now or never. You don't even know for sure if he still feels everything he just said, if he really is still in love with you that much, but now it's your turn to lay yourself bare. You love him, you know you do it for years, you know that everything you had with Gabriel was just something you were looking for from Micheal

"Micheal, listen to me, I-" you say trying to find the words, but everything inside you dies the moment he lowers his gaze "Forget everything"

And suddenly, all the weight that was gone comes back stronger than before, not even giving you time to realize. The belief you had until a few seconds ago suddenly seems to be a nonsense that you were about to reveal. Michael breathes loudly, with a calmness that doesn't belong to the situation. You watch him as he stands up straight, no longer with his arms stretched out against the table. It seems as if he has just realized the consequences of his words and that everything he said came out only because it had to come out, not because it had to reach your heart; freeing oneself, not acting for something. And it's exactly that "Forget everything" that comes out of his lips that makes you the angry one in this situation this time. It annoys you that now he is you, the person who would like to escape, that just at the moment when you were about to be the one naked in front of his eyes, he decided to close them

A last sigh escapes his lips before he silently makes his way out of the room, towards the door behind you. He is running away, running away from something that this time he has caused: there is a strange connection in your own situation, as if you were both two identical, yet different, sides of the same coin. In a lightning-fast move you place yourself between him and the door, your arms open and resting against the adjacent walls. Your heart is beating too fast, you don't even know what you're really doing, but it seems right in a corner of your soul. Kaiser looks up, staring at you with a hint of annoyance that actually covers something else

In a few days you went from best friends, to lovers unaware of each other, to strangers, to rival for annoyance and now? What are you two now?

Neither of you dares to utter a word, but your eyes seem to communicate with a language that your minds struggle to understand. It is something fine, that can easily break, but that is saying everything that you have hidden from yourself for years. It's a language that only two people who have done everything to hide their feelings so as not to hurt each other can understand with inhuman ease

“Say it” you say confidently, knowing that what you think is finally coming “Say it, because I know you think it. And I think it, too, Michael.”

You would have, or rather, you should have been honest with each other so many years ago. His tense nerves finally seem to melt away when he hears your words, now light as a feather

"I love you" he says, in a way that seems to carry with it many sleepless nights, lost because of thoughts. Finally, both you and him, have taken off the last crumb of weight that you were carrying; you smile almost unconsciously, bringing your hands between his jaw and his cheeks "I love you too, Michael"

It is in that moment that the knot you were holding tight in your stomach goes away, it is in the same moment that everything seems to take on a new shade. It is in that precise moment, where Kaiser throws himself violently on your lips, that shivers of love run through your whole body

The sensation he longed for is finally here, as he kisses you with an almost aggressive tenderness. You kiss each other back, feeling for the first time the real butterflies everyone talks about. It's a needy kiss, that perhaps he waited too long and that is taking everything now; but it's beautiful, loved, and you wonder how you and him could have waited so long if you knew the outcome was something like this, so exciting and inexplicable

His hands move to your hips, squeezing them lightly with a firm grip, as if he wants to make sure you're there. The kiss doesn't seem to end, as you hold each other, your body smeared against his and vice versa. There's something that maybe you're both still holding back but that's slowly coming out of you. Everything becomes more needy, just like that night in the hotel: the kiss becomes more aggressive, his hands tighter, your hands sweatier as you slide them along his neck, tracing the outline of his tattoo. You feel him tremble, as he moves his lips to your neck, letting soft sighs escape your lips, while suddenly everything seems to take a turn that you've both already experienced a few weeks ago

You don't know how, a few minutes later, you found yourself in his room, lying on his mattress with him on top of you, still aggressive on your neck. But you liked him so much that your legs were shaking for the emotion

You loved Michael Kaiser. Michael Kaiser loved you. You loved each other, and it took you years to realize what you could have experienced already at 19 years old. But now, at this moment, in his room, you loved each other

And that's what mattered to you

tag(s): @rroxii ; @kittenish0 (if you want to be tagged tell me!)

READ IS IMPORTANT!!: the story seems finished but NO, let's say we are only halfway through what I have in mind. thank you so much for all the support I'm receiving, I think I don't deserve it actually 🥹 love y'all 💗🌷