#and also I don’t know how to help or if I should’ve even gotten involved at all

[m-a-d-e-l-e-i-n-e]

(CW for fighting and abuse in case anyone doesn’t want to read that)

My mom and my brother fight and yell at each other so often that now I hear my mom threatening to either call the cops so he can end up in juvenile hall or drive off and leave the house herself 😃 I love how she divorced my shitty verbally and physically abusive father over five years ago but the fighting never ended and I still always get just as scared as when I was a weak and helpless child!!! ❤️

[cranetreegang]

A Niffler, A Blind Boy, and A Clever Witch - Ominis x FemReader

AN: I tried out ChatGPT and inserted sections of this fic into it for feedback and it gave the idea of the secret compartment and the note left by Henrietta. Link Here if you wanna check it out :)

Summary: Ominis is dragged into a treasure hunt and rescue mission. While he enjoys feeling her excitement, he wonders if the guilt she feels about Sebastian is coming to a head.

Music to Enjoy - Playful 🎵 Little's Theme 🎵 Uma

Word Count: ~3,500 words

Read my other Ominis Fics Here

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Ominis is waiting for her exactly where she thought he would be. He’s on the floor, leaning against the wall, in the Defense Against the Dark Arts Tower with the sun bathing him in a warm glow. The smile he gives her is far warmer though as he angles his head towards her.

“What trouble are you wanting to get into now?” He questions with a stern tone, but the smile tugging on his lips gives him away.

She plops down next to him with a wide grin, “I’m not getting into any sort of trouble.” 

He turns his head towards her with a raised brow.

“It’ll be the both of us getting into trouble. So the more apt question is: What trouble are we about to get into?” 

He chuckles with a slight shake of his head, “I should’ve known the mischievous feeling you’ve had all morning would involve me somehow.” 

She kisses his cheek, making him turn a bright pink, “Don’t pretend you aren’t just dying to know.”

He bites his bottom lip as he turns his head high and away from her, “Whatever do you mean? I am more than content to just lounge here.” 

“Oh? Is that so?” She lets out a dramatic sigh as she stands. “If that’s the case, then I would hate to pull you away from your sunbathing. Especially to some old, dusty ruins of a long forgotten treasure where a Niffler is in desperate need of our help.” 

Omins’ dark brows rise and his eyes widen, “Treasure? A Niffler? What in Merlin’s name have you gotten yourself into?” 

“It’s good to see I can still surprise you.” She beams - making him blush at how excited she is.

He sighs, “I’m going to regret this, but… what do you need help with?” 

She grabs his hand and tugs him to his feet then begins to lead him towards the Room of Requirement, “Well, I was hoping we could rescue this Niffler, named Rococo, together! It’ll be so much fun.” 

“And the treasure?” Ominis can’t contain his eager smile as she radiates pure enthusiasm. He hasn’t felt it in some time. Not since the catacombs. He’s quick to bury the thought before it arises. 

“It’s located at Henrietta’s Hideaway. Henrietta was a paranoid recluse and she filled her castle with all kinds of traps to protect her valuables. Which is where Rococo has taken a shine to. Which also means, there’s treasure ripe for the taking!” She giggles - opening the door to the Room of Requirement and letting Ominis walk in first. 

He laughs to himself as he heads inside, “So, let me make sure I’m understanding what we’re about to do.” 

She bustles about the room, shoving various potions and plants into her pack, as he continues,

“You want us to go into a recluse’s old castle - filled with all manners of traps - to rescue a pet Niffler and possibly find said recluse’s dusty valuables, that may not even be actual treasure or even still be there. Am I missing anything?” 

She hums then nods, “Yes. There’s also Ashwinders that have taken residence there and we’ll probably have to fight them as well.” 

Ominis grimaces - draping his school robe over a plush chair, “Ashwinders? Love, this isn’t sounding as simple as you’re making it out to be.” 

She sets down her pack on a table - covered in papers, quills, and books - and she wraps her arms around his neck. He holds her around her waist, pulling her tight against his chest, and he hates how easily he’s crumbling before she even has to speak.

“It’s dangerous. It’s reckless. And we’re risking our necks for a silly Niffler and whatever dusty knick knacks a recluse would think is worth protecting.” She brushes her nose against the tip of his then she presses her forehead to his. “But, it’ll be fun. And I wouldn’t want to go without you.” 

His features soften into a smile, “When do we leave?”

Her excitement floods him like a tidal wave and it takes everything in him not to be swept up in it. 

“As soon as I gather the rest of our supplies!” She kisses him. “Oh, this’ll be so much fun!” 

She parts from him and she’s a whirlwind around the room as he listens to her shove more things into her bag. He hears her mumbles of a checklist: Wiggenweld, Thunderbrew, Cabbages, and various other potions while he slips on a proper outing robe. He swells at how diligent she’s being when she pauses.

“Why are you surprised that I’m actually prepared?” She teases. “I don’t always run head first into danger, you know?” 

He flushes at being caught, “I know. I just enjoy bearing witness to your preparations. I find it adorable.” 

She saunters over to him with a smirk as she hands him his bag filled with potions and plants, “I am most certainly not adorable.” 

He tucks the bag into his robes then pulls her into him with a wide grin. He cups her cheek, noting how hot they are, then he whispers just above her lips, “You most certainly are.” 

He kisses her, flooding her with a tidal wave of his own emotion - which warms her from her head to her toes and sends shivers down her spine. She melts into him, running her hands up his chest to nestle under his jaw and on his neck. The bond between them flares to life and ignites their bones with a thrumming heat - it nearly buckles her knees. 

She has to part from him, and as she does it’s with a shuddering breath as the sensation of their bond settles into a more gentle hum. 

“Perhaps, if we don’t find any treasure, I can find another way to make this venture more worthwhile.” She whispers. 

His lips turn into a loose smirk, “Oh? And what did you have in mind?”

She opens her mouth to reply, but she frowns instead. What did she have in mind? Her hazy thoughts finally settle and she realizes what a promiscuous thing she just said. Before she can flounder out apologies and excuses, he cups her cheek and places a kiss on her forehead.

“Taking me to dinner would be much appreciated.” He soothes her worries with the gentle strokings of his thumb on her cheek. 

“I suppose that’s a reasonable reward for my dashing assistant.” She whispers, thankful a thousand times over for his kindness. 

She abruptly shoves herself away from him, “I swear. I could spend all day in your arms. But, we really must be going if Rococo is to survive!” 

He chuckles as he takes her hand, “Then lead the way, my Savior of Nifflers.” 

She rolls her eyes, squeezing his hand as she does, then takes them towards the exit. She pauses just before she reaches the door and Ominis can feel a sudden sadness - a guilt - creep up on her.

“What is it?” He squeezes her hand. 

She turns to him, “Do you think we should invite Sebastian?” 

Her question is quiet and innocent, but there’s so much weight behind it - it’s nearly enough to take the air right out of his lungs. He hates the feelings swirling inside her: regret, anger, sadness, longing, resentment. There’s so much ambivalence, it's hard for him to discern what troubles her the most. He’s not sure how to ease her - if he even could.

He sucks in a sharp breath then shakes his head, “Perhaps on the next treasure hunt. For now,” he leans down and whispers in her ear as if they weren’t the only two in the room, “I just want you all to myself.”

This doesn’t fully ease the sorrow and remorse lingering in the far edges of her being, but her excitement is starting to kindle once more. 

“I would prefer that as well.” She says.

=============================

Emerging from the floo’s flames, they’re quick to mount their brooms and take flight. While Ominis is a far slower, and more careful, flier than most, he appreciates her for letting him be on his own. He follows her with his wand - using her like a guiding light. She takes them high enough to avoid almost all the potential obstacles - like trees and protruding rocks - and he’s left to enjoy the flight. 

She starts to lower and he does the same until they land behind a jutting of rocks. She’s peeking around them and he joins her. 

There’s several people walking around a ruined structure. 

“Ashwinders. At least four of them.” She informs him. 

“I assume sneaking past is out of the question.” 

She smirks, “I suppose that’s an option. If that’s how you’d like to approach this.” 

She waits for his answer as he mulls over their options. 

“We could take out a few then deal with whatever is left.” He decides with a sure set of his jaw. 

“I like the sounds of that.” She casts the disillusionment charm and stalks towards her quarry. He watches her for a moment - as she pulses and radiates in his mind’s eye - before he does the same and follows after her. Wordlessly, he takes the opposite side of her and he hears the whisper of her Petrification spell. 

He swallows his apprehension as he approaches his first mark. He presses his wand up to the witch’s neck then whispers, “Petrificus Totalus.” 

The body falls to the ground with a thud and he waves his wand around to ensure they’re still undetected. The Ashwinders walk around the ruin with nary a hitch in their steps. 

Ominis releases a breath then moves in. His heart hammers in his chest, but he can’t deny how thrilling this all is. She’s right there with him, already taking out another wizard while he gets ready to do the same. 

“Hey!” An Ashwinder exclaims. 

Ominis casts Levioso on instinct towards the shout and the wizard hovers in the air. 

“Confringo!” 

Her fiery spell slams into the levitated wizard and they’re launched into a crumbling stone wall from the force of it. 

Ominis gathers himself and deflects an attack and counters with Stupify. Before he knows it, he doesn’t sense any more wizards standing; save themselves. 

“Not bad.” He smirks in her direction. 

“Come on. This way.” She grabs his hand and leads him down a winding staircase facing the crashing ocean and into the cavernous hideout. 

As they step inside the castle, the smell of must and decay hits them, and they are greeted by a large hall filled with cobwebs and moth-eaten banners barely hanging on the stone walls. She sneezes and coughs, and Ominis hands her a handkerchief as he surveys the area.

"Seems like Henrietta didn't have many guests over," he comments dryly.

She rolls her eyes with a snort, "Certainly not a place to host dinner parties."

Something shimmers in the fire light and she goes closer towards it. A golden Galleon lays on the ground and as she picks it up, she notices another Galleon a few meters in front of her then another - all leading further into the castle.

“This way,” she says as she follows Rococo’s trail.

They walk through the entrance when Ominis pulls her to a stop by gripping her forearm. She’s about to question him, when she notices what caught his attention.

Ashwinders walk around the foyer below them. A grand statue of a Hippogriff stands at the center of the room and is illuminated by the sunlight overhead. She draws her wand and Ominis shifts into a more defensive stance as they slowly sneak their way closer. They part - taking either side of the twin staircases - and she’s the first to attack.

“Bombarda!” 

Her spell explodes two of the unexpecting Ashwinders, and sends them flying in different directions.

“Confringo!” Ominis lands his fiery spell into one of the Ashwinders and knocks them onto the floor. 

Her and Ominis take care of the others with precise spellwork, and they continue on their way.

After what seems like hours of dispatching Ashwinders and solving puzzles, they finally unlock a room with a chest sitting in the middle and a Niffler stuffing his pouch with golden Galleons. They crouch just at the entryway into the room. She pulls out her brown, leather bag and looks to Ominis.

“On three, you’ll cast Levioso. And I’ll nab him.” 

Ominis nods.

“One… two…,” she gets ready to open the bag while Ominis points his wand right at the unsuspecting Niffler. “Three.”

“Levioso!”Ominis casts with a whip-like motion at Rococo. 

The Niffler hovers in the air and looks around in confusion. She opens the bag and sucks the Niffler inside, capturing the wayward pet. She laughs and Ominis matches her triumphant grin.

“Not bad,” he grins, giving her a warm smile. 

“Not bad yourself. We make a good team.” 

She walks towards where Rococo was pillaging and Ominis is thankful she doesn’t see the blush forming on his cheeks.

She opens the chest and gasps at the sight of glittering jewels and gold coins inside.

Ominis chuckles, "Looks like Henrietta had a thing for treasure after all."

"Does that mean I’m off the hook for dinner then?" She grins.

“Not in the slightest.” 

As they pack their bags with gold, they hear a faint rattling sound coming from the chest. Ominis investigates with his nimble fingers until he presses down on an indentation. A hidden compartment in the ornate treasure chest opens on the side, revealing a small wooden box. She looks at the box and Ominis with wide eyes while he grabs it.

Inside the box is a note, written in an elegant script: 

'To the brave souls who have found my treasure, I congratulate you. Please take what you wish, but do not forget to leave something in return. Remember, karma always comes back tenfold.

- Henrietta'

She raises an eyebrow, "What should we leave?"

Ominis smirks and he rips out a page from a long abandoned tome laying next to them. She tries to see what he’s writing, but he keeps his work hidden from her prying gaze. 

“‘To those who find this’,” he begins with gusto - making her giggle, “‘know you are too late. A Niffler, a blind boy, and a clever witch have made away with the riches. Where we plan to spend it all on frivolous things. Signed, The Niffler Nabbers.’” 

She laughs, “‘Niffler Nabbers’?” 

“I thought it had a nice ring to it.” He grins, enjoying her amused laughter.

Ominis taps his wand to the note and it folds into a beautiful crane. The crane’s wings flutter then take flight, gliding around the treasure room. She admires the crane with a soft smile while he takes her hand, kissing the top of it.

“Shall we go?” 

She reaches into her bag and sets three golden Galleons in the chest then she nods, “Let’s take one last look around in the other room. Perhaps there’s another secret there.”

They venture out from the treasure room back to the grand hall. Ominis walks over to the other side, waving his wand in search of any more hidden walls or compartments, while she wanders around. She ends up at the far end of the hall and her eyes transfix upon the towering, chipped statue.

With the afternoon’s warm golden light beaming around it, the statue looks majestic and powerful - like a symbol of some ancient magic or wisdom. She’s reminded of some sort of goddess of a long forgotten era. For a moment, she forgets about everything else and just admires the beauty of the sculpture - in hopes it may bestow some of its long lost wisdom upon her. 

She hasn’t moved in some time and Ominis takes careful steps towards her so as to not scare her. The feelings she had earlier in the Room of Requirement swirl within her and Ominis frowns at the heaviness she’s burdened with. Since they both agreed to not turn in Sebastian, they haven’t discussed the matter further. Ominis lets out a heavy breath at not doing so sooner. 

She senses him behind her before his arms wrap around her waist and he presses his head onto the back of her neck. 

“Sebastian worries me, too.” He whispers. 

She gasps at him speaking the very thing she’s been trying so hard to ignore. The guilt is crushing. Like she’s sunk deep below the waves of the sea. And with a great current, it shifts into a bitter tidal wave and her hands ball into fists - her body shaking.

“I am so angry with him,” she hisses. “He used me. He used his sister against us. He used you!” 

He holds her against his chest as she lets out a bitter sob. She grabs his hands and she urges him to hold her tighter - to stop herself from being swept away. 

Her head lowers and she lets out a shuddering breath, “I failed him.” 

“No. No, you didn’t.” Ominis turns her around and holds her closer to his chest, tuckering her head into his neck.

“Sebastian knew the choices he was making,” he whispers in her ear. “He did this to himself. He hurt us. He hurt you, me, Anne… and Solomon…,” 

Her fingers dig into his robes and she shudders. 

“This is not your fault.” He states. 

“It is though.” She pulls away enough to face him and his hands shift to her upper arms. “I never should’ve helped him as much as I did. My hands are just as bloody as his. Because I… I really thought…,” she lets out a bitter laugh and it twists Ominis’ heart to hear such a horrible noise from her. “It’s so stupid to say now, but I truly thought that wretched book had the answers. And everything would be okay. And you would have both of your friends back. How stupid is that!” 

“Stop. Stop that!” He clutches both sides of her face with anguish. “If your hands are bloody, then so are mine. I allowed him into the Scriptorium. I allowed him to torture you with an Unforgivable!” His features twist into a pained expression, causing her to whimper. He closes his eyes with a heavy breath.

“None of us are innocent in this,” he whispers. “We all had parts in this tragedy. So, cease this talk of you being the only one who is at fault. I will hear no more of it.” 

She holds both of his hands with a shuddering breath. She closes her eyes and she presses her forehead to his. 

“The worst part is - I want to pretend like none of it happened.” She whispers.

He shivers, “So do I. But, we all know we can’t.” 

“I know.” 

There’s a sudden resolve within her - one that surprises him. 

He strokes her cheek with slightly raised brows, “What is it?” 

“I haven’t been a good friend to him. I thought I was, but I’ve only enabled him.” 

“What are you saying?” He wonders in an apprehensive, quiet voice. 

She sucks in a sharp breath and she says, “Sebastian needs someone - now, more than ever. And I can’t fail him again. While you’re with Anne this summer, I’ll stay with Sebastian in Hogsmeade.” 

Ominis’ brows furrow, “Sebastian is not your responsibility. You have nothing to atone for!” 

“He is. And I do,” she states. “It wasn’t just Sebastian I failed. It was you, too, Ominis.” 

Ominis is about to dispute her, but she continues,

“You are the most important person in my life, Ominis. And I know Sebastian is an important part of you. And I did nothing to stop him. So, please, let me do this. Let me fix this.” She pleads. 

Ominis stares at her with his cloudy gray eyes, desperately searching for hers. The weight of her words and the determination behind them... he knows he cannot stop her. And he hates that she’s right. Sebastian was not meant to be alone in this world.

He nods slowly, “If that’s what you wish,” he strokes her cheeks with his thumbs. “But I’ll be checking on you both. And if you need anything - anything at all - you come to me. Promise me that.”

She nods, “I promise.”

He pulls her into a tight embrace and she buries her face in his chest. For a moment, they stay like that, lost in their thoughts and emotions. Then, she pulls away, her eyes fixed on the statue in front of them. She looks back at Ominis and she smiles - stroking his cheek in reverence. 

“We should take Rococo back.” She says softly.

He nods and takes her hand, “Come on.”

They walk out of the hideaway, side by side. The sun is starting to set, casting a warm glow over the valley and the air is beginning to chill. As they walk, they both know that things will never be the same again. But they also know that they will face whatever comes together.

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AN: When I think about the summer for the trio, I envisioned Ominis taking care of Anne since she's by herself. I doubt Anne would want Sebastian around right away. Which is why MC and Seb will be chilling in Hogsmeade or at Hogwarts and they start doing stuff into curse breaking and ancient magic.

Sorry it took so long to post. I literally have been brain rotting over this 7th year fic. It actually took a lot of willpower to finish this and i'm worried it's rushed at parts so sorry.

Hoping to get the rest of the chapters posted soon, so then i can start fully into the 7th year fic!

Any feedback is welcomed and thanks for reading <3

[copsecore]

I 50% agree with your “Lovely should have died” statement!!

I do also agree on the part where the reaction that their death would’ve gotten was going to be crazy

There are just so many characters involved I don’t know who it should’ve been!

I think Lovely’s been through way too much to give up and just die. If Gavin were to die, Freelancer might’ve been beyond Caelum’s help, and the whole DAMN crew would be devastated. Same with Damien.

If Asher were to die, it would cause mayhem. What about his mate?? Does Milo step up as Beta? Why does David keep losing the people closest to him? What about when his sister and parents find out?

That question alone is wild to think about because i truly don’t even know….Who would I sacrifice??

HOW DID I NOT FUCKING SEE THIS FOR A YEAR AND A HALF @mrsmiagreer I AM SO SORRY???

very very ironic that its right now when I’m writing in the chunk on the Inversion into my fic about damien and huxley

but yes, i fully emphasise my opinion that i would have loved to see the Inversion be a BIT more tragic than it canonically was - including deaths of main characters and stuff that would have really derailed plot-lines, rather than just Xavier (a minimally introduced side character) being killed off

thank you so much for your ask and hearing your thoughts i am so sorry i never saw it 😭😭💙

[pupphe-additions]

What Happened?

Word Count: 2,380 TW/CW: Swearing, talks of bullying/teasing/mean girl behavior, talks of anxiety as well. Also mentions the fear of being alone and being ignored. Note: This is a work of fiction, I am not saying these girls are actually mean girls. Don't hate. It's not real. Don't like it just keep scrolling thanks Overview: Evie finally talks about the Anti ITZY controversy with some of the SKZ boys and speaks out on it on her Instagram. Request? Technically yes by @elizalabs3 Who's Involved: Danceracha (Hyunjin, Felix, and Leeknow) and Evie

January 14th, 2024

Evie has been acting really strange recently, and the boys have all taken notice. Every time they’ve asked her what’s bothering her she just tells her that she’s fine and that they are being over dramatic and over analyzing her behavior. She’s been trying to mask how she’s been feeling but it’s gotten to a point where she can’t keep doing that anymore. One more question and she feels like she is about to explode. She feels overly stressed and doesn’t know how to express it, she tried doing her normal distractions but they aren’t helping. Comments are laying heavy on the idol's mind as she paces the length of the room and rubs her arms.

Hyunjin finally breaks a silence that no one even realized was there. “My love, what’s wrong?”

Evie lifts up her hand dismissively. “Don’t.” She barks in a harsh tone.

“Evie, don’t lash out at Hyunjin.” Felix says gently, grabbing her hand to get her attention. “We’ve all noticed you’ve been bothered. You can talk to us about anything, you know this. We love you, we don’t like seeing you suffer in silence like this, Bear.”

“It’s seriously nothing.” Evie says, pulling her hand away from Felix and walking away.

The two boys shake their heads at one another before following Evie, they are determined to get the truth out of her and will not stop until they get answers. She’s been acting weird for over a month, so something is clearly wrong. Evie can hear the boys quickly follow behind her and she rolls her eyes. She knows these two won’t stop until they get some sort of answer from her, but she doesn’t know how to talk about this. She hasn’t known how to talk about it, that's why she hasn’t.

“Oi! Ari! Wait up!” Felix says from behind her and she stops and turns to face him with her arms crossed over her chest.

“What do you guys want? Can’t you just leave me alone? I clearly have nothing to say to you.”

“No. We can’t leave you alone.” Hyunjin says as he stares at Evie.

“You may not have something to say but you definitely have something on your mind, so why don’t we just sit down and talk about it.” Felix pipes in carefully.

“Yeah, we can all cook or order food and eat and just figure this out together.” Hyunjin says softly brushing her hair out of her face as he steps toward her. “I hate seeing you so tense and worked up like this Vi.”

Evie sighs, there’s no way of getting out of it this time. “Fine. Let’s eat while we talk about this, I don’t think I can do this without motivation.”

“Thank you.” The boys say in unison before they all decide what to order for food.

While they wait for food to arrive Evie and the two boys sit down and she rehearses what she wants to say in her head a few times, each time she is unhappy with it. How does she talk about something that happened like six years ago? Something that she's avoided like the plague since her debut with Stray Kids. It’s just awkward to even think about anymore. She should’ve just sucked it up and gotten over it but she never got closure so it all still hurts every time it’s brought up. With the new resurgence as well it is just too much. Evie must’ve gotten lost in her thoughts because the next thing she knows Felix and Hyunjin are walking up to her with the food they ordered in their hands.

“Alright Evs, foods here.” Felix beams as they sit on either side of her and they sort out who’s food is whose.

“Yeah…” Evie says with a forced smile. She takes a few bites before she picks at it trying to muster the courage to talk about it.

Evie shakes her head and slaps her cheeks to hype herself up. “This is hard to talk about.” She shrugs as she stares at her food, picking at it with her chopsticks again.

“We aren’t going anywhere Vi, take your time.” Hyunjin reassures placing a hand on her leg and squeezing it slightly as he does.

“Yeah, I know. You’ve been pestering me all day, it’s giving me a fucking migraine.” Evie says rubbing her temples before taking another bite of food.

After swallowing her bite she sighs, “I guess I should just rip it off like a bandaid huh?”

“If that’s how you want to do it mate.” Felix replies, shrugging.

“This is fucking weird to talk about it’s been so long…”

“What is it about?” Hyunjin tilts his head as he asks.

Bluntly Evie says, “Itzy.”

“That’s what’s been bothering you? The Itzy comments?” Felix seems confused.

“Yes and no. It’s more what the girls did to me and how they treated me. I’m supposed to just be happy around them and not hurt. I have yet to get a fucking apology for how awful they were to me.”

Hyunjin’s eyes widen as he sees Evie make a tight fist, clearly getting overly emotional. “What’d they do to you my love?”

Evie shakes her head and her hands trying to process everything. Is she really talking about this? “I need a minute… Please…” her voice cracks as angry tears threaten to fall. The boys just nod and let her take her time.

“You have to remember I haven’t even talked about this in therapy yet… So this is me finally processing it after all those years okay…” Evie says before taking big bites of her food to try and forget the conversation at hand.

“That’s why it’s bothering you so much.” Felix observes and the girl just nods her head as she finishes the big bite she just took.

“Yeah…” Evie sighs once more before speaking again. “As you guys know after I was cut from the show and from the group in 2018 I trained with Itzy for a while. And to say I was an outcast is an understatement. Those girls treated me like I was fucking dirt. Do you know how that feels? The group of people who you are supposed to live with and spend the majority of your time with hating your fucking existence. That hurts so much more than anyone could possibly know.”

Evie has to stop speaking as tears fall from her eyes and she starts to shake, emotions she’s never truly processed hitting her like a stab right in her heart. She feels so small, so broken. She wants to scream and punch things but she knows that won’t fix anything. The two boys sit in stunned silence staring at the crumbling female before them. They can tell she’s not done talking but they just do their best to comfort her, they don’t add anything worried they’d make it worse. Hyunjin rubs your leg gently as Felix lays her head on his chest near his heart and he steadies his heartbeat and breathing for her to listen to as he knows that’s something that brings her a lot of comfort. After a few moments she clears her throat and continues to talk.

“It started with one but then they all sorta just gained up on me. It was like they said ‘bully the reject she can handle it.’ I was like their verbal punching bag. What hurt the most though was when they made fun of my speaking, as if I can control having an accent or having ‘weird’ Korean… I was fluent in Korean at the time too so I don’t understand what their issue was with me. I didn’t do anything to those girls. It was like they were mad that I almost debuted before them or something. There’s no way PD-nim didn’t see the way they treated me, they didn’t fucking hide the fact they didn’t like me. So yeah, when they debuted I did feel some sort of way but guess what I got over it. I trained with the NMIXX girls until it was time for me to come back to my home, you guys, and when I was with them it was heavenly. They treated me with so much love and respect, maybe because I was the oldest or maybe it’s because they weren’t in a hateful mood I don't know.”

Evie takes a deep breath realizing she was talking really fast, at a slower pace she continues. “I know you can’t get along with everyone and I understand and accept that. However, to treat someone with so much hate and disrespect feels uncalled for. I never once did anything to instigate anything, and to think. Chaeryoung asked me to do a dance with her on tiktok. NO. Leave me alone. Like, haven’t you done enough when you were doing mean girl behavior with your other members toward an already beaten down trainee?”

When Evie finally looks up she notices that Lee Know was leaning on the door frame, he seemed to have been listening from afar. She waves him over and he comes and sits with them. Everyone is silent for a few moments as Evie processes everything.

“I’m not an anti. I just don’t want to show support toward people who were hateful toward me, maybe that had a bad couple of weeks/months. That doesn’t mean take it out on me. Unless maybe they didn’t want me on the team and at that point just be honest and don’t be mean about it? I don’t know. Just the way they went about it and then no one apologizing even after years just seems wild to me.” Evie shrugs. “I don’t know how to talk about this with the public because I don’t want Itzy to be hated, I just want an apology so I can just get that awful chapter closed and maybe I can heal.”

“I understand. If you want we can maybe try and help you talk about it? To put the rumors to rest and ease your mind a bit.” Lee Know suggests.

“That’d be nice…”

“Hey, Evie.” Hyunjin says. “We love you. I’m sorry they treated you like that, that’s not fair to you. I think you should report it if it’s still affecting you after so long, I mean for an entire month you barely slept and have been acting really strange because of the internet calling you an anti again.”

“I’m not gonna do that.” Evie says fast. “It’s fine. I’m fine really. It just gets exhausting seeing people saying I’m an anti all because they debuted before me and without me. So what if I didn’t make the original line up, I’m clearly much happier where I am now so what’s the big deal?”

The boys shrug and Felix speaks this time. “I think people just want a reason to hate you mate. The fact they can’t find one bugs ‘em so they bring this up every six to eight months to get a reaction outta ya.”

“Maybe but it’s heartbreaking because even some of our stays think I’m bitter. I am not bitter, just broken-hearted. Is that the same? I don’t think so.”

Lee Know sighs. “I don’t get why everyone has to try and start something with you. You’re just trying to live your life. Let’s make a post on your Instagram and pin it yeah? We can also have an official statement released too. Let’s just say you aren’t an anti, because you said you aren’t, and we can either come up with some bullshit excuse or be straight up honest and just say we just don’t get along and that’s okay we are human. Or something. Up to you of course. It’s your situation after all.”

Evie scratches at her arm before she grabs her phone. She puts the camera against her leg to have a solid black background before writing her statement first in English then in Korean on two different slides. She puts them in the only highlight that is on her page labeled “itzy.” The statement reads as follows:

Hello everyone, this is Evelyn. You may know me better as Evie from the KPop group Stray Kids. This post is going to be a bit different from anything I’ve ever done before. This is my official statement about all the rumors and allegations that I am an Itzy anti. I would like to say I am NOT an Itzy anti. I’ve never been an Itzy anti. The girls and I just didn’t get along in our trainee days, maybe now that we are older we could try for a friendship but I am by no means an anti. I actually enjoy some of their music. I just avoided them due to conflicted feelings I felt about everything that happened. Although we didn’t get along, I will always wish the best for them and wish them nothing but good luck in any future endeavors they have. I’m sorry for not speaking out sooner or talking about this sooner, I never really knew how to address this without giving away too many details as this is something that is extremely personal to not only me but the girls that are in Itzy. Next time something comes up I will be sure to handle it differently, and hopefully better. I ask you guys to not pry any farther into this as I do not want to talk about it anymore than this. I am only human, as are they, I deserve privacy as does everyone else. Just because I am an idol doesn't mean I do not deserve privacy. Thank you for listening.

She showed the boys the statement and they all agreed it looked okay and before okaying it with any of her managers or the staff she just posted it. She didn’t care if she got in trouble, she just was tired of hearing it. After the post she turned her phone off, not wanting to hear or see the reaction of the public and she just sort of sat there on the floor and cried as the, now three, boys tried their best to calm her down and help her get out of her head.

[hoe4almondmilk]

Regret

Rita Calhoun x Reader

warnings: language, descriptions of violence, major injury to a character & i think this considered hurt/comfort with a teaspoon of angst.

an: I’d like to apologize if Rita is a bit ooc, it’s my first time writing her. Please be nice or I’ll cry lol.

The only thing you could hear in Rita’s office was the sound of her coffee cup shatter as it met with the hard marble floor.

“Oh my god.” She said as she almost fell. The only thing holding her up was her arm desperately grabbing her desk for support.

She had just gotten the worst call of her life from your captain Olivia Benson. Olivia had called her and told her you were shot and in critical condition.

Rita quickly grabbed her coat and left her office as fast as she could. She quickly grabbed a ride to Mercy Hospital.

All she could think about on that ride to the hospital was the argument you two had this morning before the both of you left for work. All it was doing was replaying in her head over and over again.

“Rita, you seriously can’t be defending him.” You scoffed as you tied your tennis shoes.

“You and your squad do not know the whole story, (y/n).” Rita looked at you as she stirred her coffee.

“He is a rapist, Rita! You know that! He brutalized that girl!” You stood up and walked over to the kitchen counter.

You and the rest of the SVU squad were working a big case. Ryan Brown, the CEO of one of New York’s largest tech companies had viciously assaulted one of his young interns. You all knew he was guilty except your girlfriend, Rita. His new defense counselor. You understood she had a job to do but you couldn’t help but take this personally. You spent almost 12 hours interrogating him. Countless nights looking over evidence. You all put so much work into this case.

“You know this is just business, (y/n).” Rita tried reassuring you as she tried to put her hand on your shoulder before you pushed it away.

“Is it, Rita?” You replied coldly.

Rita was shocked but also started to get agitated with you. It was still so early and you were badgering her with questions about this case. She was also upset that you seriously believed this was a personal attack. Rita would never do that to you but also her client deserved the right to counsel.

“You know what, I’m going to head out because it is way too early to deal with this.” Rita said as she rolled her eyes. She started to grab her bag as she got ready to leave your shared condo.

“Deal with what? Deal with me?” You said as you continued to argue and follow Rita.

“Yes, deal with you. I should’ve never gotten involved with some rookie NYPD detective who doesn’t know a thing about the law.” Rita snapped. She closed her eyes immediately in regret. She couldn’t believe what she just said to you. She could see the tears well up in your eyes. “I need to go, I’m going to be late.” Rita added trying to keep her composure as she turned around to leave.

“Ma’am, we’re here. Mercy Hospital.” Rita’s driver snapped her out of her thoughts.

“Thank you.” She said as she exited the vehicle to the emergency room. Rita made her way to the waiting room. She immediately spotted Olivia and the squad.

Olivia’s eyes had widened when they met Rita’s “Rita, I-“

“Olivia, what the hell happened.” Rita interrupted Olivia, absolutely furious at how this could even happen.

“We don’t know. She’s in bad shape. She almost bled out in the ambulance, I couldn’t even get her to answer if she saw the shooter before she passed out. ” Olivia said softly. “Her and Rollins were on their way to meet a witness and someone from a window in the building across shot her. ” Olivia added in a broken voice.

“They just shot her?” Rita choked, trying to catch her breath. Her legs felt like jelly. “Where’s the bastard?” Rita asked, her voice colored in anger.

“We’re still looking. We have uni’s and other detectives surveying the perimeter and looking for this guy.” Olivia said, as she took a deep breath.

“You don’t have the person who shot her?” Rita’s voice raised. At this point the squad was walking over to see what was going on. “He shot her in broad daylight and you don’t have anyone? No one saw him?”

“Rita, we’re going to find him.” Olivia tried to calm Rita down.

“Olivia, I don’t care who I have to go through. If (y/n) doesn’t make it, I will sue the NYPD and I will have your badge.” Rita warned before she walked over to talk to the hospital staff about your condition.

“Liv, it wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t any of our faults.” Amanda placed her hand on Olivia’s shoulder.

“I know… She just needs some time.” Olivia said as she watched Rita sitting alone on the other side of the waiting room.

Nearly five hours had gone by and you were still in surgery. Rita wanted to vomit. She couldn’t lose you. You were everything. Yes, you guys had your arguments about work but you both made it work. Rita wouldn’t have had it any other way. She slumped deeper into the uncomfortable hospital chair. She closed her eyes, hoping she’d wake up from this nightmare.

“You look like you need this.” Olivia handed Rita a cup of coffee.

“Thank you.” Rita whispered, as she took a sip of the coffee.

“Rita, I’m sorry.” Olivia said as she sat in the chair next to her.

“You’re okay. I’m the one who should be apologizing.” Rita turned to look at Olivia. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that. I’m just so scared.”

“I know, we are too.” The captain added. “What’s really going on? I get a sense something else is going through your mind”

“Oh, Olivia. Who could fool you?” Rita let out a soft chuckle.

“Tell me.” Olivia insisted. She knew something was going on. Let’s be honest, not very many people can hide their emotions with the queen of empathy.

“(y/n) and I got into it pretty bad this morning over the Brown case. I basically told her I should’ve never gotten involved with her.” The tough defense attorney could feel a tear run down her cheek. She quickly wiped the tear away.

Olivia handed her a handkerchief.

“Thank you.” Rita sniffled.

“Rita, you said it out of anger.” Olivia placed her hand on Rita’s shoulder.

“If she dies, the last thing I ever said to her was that.” Rita had tears streaming down her face at this point. “I couldn’t live with myself.”

“(y/n) is a fighter. She is going to make it. You can’t let your mind run off with that idea, Rita.” Olivia tried her best to comfort Olivia. She’d be lying if she wasn’t worried about you. But she knew Rita would be absolutely devastated if you didn’t make it.

“I just want her to be okay.” Rita mumbled as she wiped her tears away with the handkerchief.

“She will be.” Olivia insisted.

A few more hours had passed before your surgeon came out.

“Ms. Calhoun and Captain Benson.” The doctor approached the pair and your squad. “She’s stable.”

Rita felt like she could finally breathe again. “Oh my god.” She said relieved. Relief filled the room.

“She’ll have full use of her leg, where she was shot but she’s going to need physical therapy before she’ll be able to get it back to normal again.” He explained. “She’s awake if anyone would like to go in.”

“Thank you so much.” Rita thanked the doctor before he left.

Olivia looked at Rita and said “Rita, you go first.”

Rita entered your room, quietly closing the door behind her.

Your lips curved into a soft smile as you both met eyes. “Hi.” You said softly.

Rita rushed over to sit next to your bedside, and gently held your hand. “(y/n), I’m so sorry. I just can’t believe what I said to you this morning and I just-” Rita tried to muster out trying her best not to choke up. Tears once again fell down her face.

“It’s okay, Rita. I’m not mad at you.” You cut her off. You held her face as you wiped her tears.

“All I could think about was you and if you didn’t make it how those were the last words I ever said to you.”

“You don’t have to worry about that anymore. I’m okay.” You held her hand, you tried to squeeze it with what little strength you had. “Did they catch him?” You asked. “It all happened so fast I didn’t even see him.”

“They haven’t, but I promise you when they do there’s gonna be hell to pay.” Rita assured you.

“I believe that.” You chuckled but then groaned in pain. “Damn, my fucking thigh.” Your face scrunched up. “Well, whoever the dumbass was had a horrible aim if all he could do was shoot me in the damn leg.”

“Oh, (y/n)!” Rita laughed. “You shouldn’t say that.” You had such a twisted sense of humor sometimes.

“Oh, but I bet this scar is gonna be so sexy.” You joked.

“You are such a masochist, I swear.” Rita playfully rolled her eyes. Rita reached over and gave you a gentle kiss on the lips. “I’m just so relieved.” She whispered to you gently petting your hair.

“I love you.” You smiled at her.

“And I love you.” She pecked your lips again.

“You know, you definitely didn’t deny the scar comment.” You teased Rita.

“Oh, we both know I love those thighs, scar or not.” Rita gave a soft chuckle as she kissed the top of that beautiful head of yours.

[ariannadi]

My Now Complete Review of Dragon Age: The Veilguard

I’ve tried to play through as consistently as possible so I could finish the game in a timely manner and still retain everything I’ve encountered, but unfortunately as I get older and wallow through my undiagnosed ADHD I simply can’t sit long periods of time like I once could, even when a game has me hooked.

That being said:

Overall score: 6.5/10 (Spoilers below cut obvs)

I wish wish wish wish wish WISH that the entirety of this game was like the final act. Those five hours of climax were what I was expecting from a game I had been waiting nearly ten years for. I wish wish wish WISH that Solas had been the main focus of the story, and not just some side character. Everything involving him was absolutely stellar, and I just wanna know what the hell happened at BioWare for them to make the decisions that they did.

So anyway, here are the highlights overall, because ultimately I *did* enjoy this game:

The last five hours of this game? PEAK Bioware.

The combat? SUPER FUN!

The graphics and environments? GORGEOUS!

The fact that this game is hella polished and runs perfectly? ABSOLUTELY INCREDIBLE!

Now here’s where I start bitching, because A LOT of factors dragged this game down for me.

Firstly, this is BIOWARE. They were, once upon a time, the pinnacle of good writing in video games, of companions that made you ache with their plights and that you would literally do ANYTHING for because you became so attached to them. Like I said previously, if this game had been like the entirety of the final six hours, then I would be singing its praises for eternity, but that simply isn’t the case.

First and foremost: Solas should’ve been the focus - I will repeat this until I'm blue in the face. I don’t think it was a wise move for BioWare to make the hunt for him a series of events in their side media - I WISH they had kept the initial concept for DA4 where the focus would be finding Solas from start to finish. He’s a compelling villain, so much more compelling than the cartoony Ghilan’nain and Elgernan that only yelled taunts at me about how I would rue the day and that they could’ve gotten away with everything if it wasn’t for my meddling Rook. It’s the same crap that people complained about with Corypheus during DAI, but they fucking went and did the same thing again and the true threat, that being Solas, was just reduced to a side character. Where was all of the buildup that Trespasser set in motion?? (Why is my Inquisitor only around for the occasional cameo when she's legitimately the driving force behind Varric and Harding recruiting Rook and the others? I did appreciate her showing up to talk to Solas one final time at the end, but it would've been cool to have her consistent council to my Rook throughout the entirety of the story, and not just through random missives.)

The companions are hit or miss. I loved Bellara, Davrin, and Emmrich (whose questline was the closest I came to getting emotional). For the most part I liked Lucanis and Taash (I have some gripes with both in terms of how they’re written but I don’t want the fandom coming after me >>). Neve and Harding, I could honestly care less about. They just… had nothing of interest for me despite how much I wanted to like them (and their voice direction didn’t help). I will say Harding’s death (cause something in me said don’t fucking pick Davrin lol) did shock me, so. There’s that.

Also, Rook as a character kinda sucks because you can’t actually SHAPE how you want them to be. Most of their dialogue amounts to “we can do it with the power of friendship” and the only time I was actually able to piss anyone off was when I was talking to Solas (and I took full advantage of that lol). Companions shouldn’t so readily agree to everything you say, aside from the Treviso/Dock Town choice there isn’t really a moment where any of them protest your actions. Everything is just so linear and, coming from BG3 where you had so much to decide, it sucks.

The story itself is fine (again I would’ve preferred the original draft), but the pacing was odd. The first 36 hours you’re building up to this confrontation with Ghilan’nain and then you just… stop to sort out everyone’s baggage for another fifteen hours?? It’s weird. Like if the companion stories meshed into the story somehow and didn’t make a screeching halt to the actual plot maybe it wouldn’t have been so jarring??

While on the topic of pacing, I wish the romances began earlier and had more content, because they’re kind of bare bones. Like the reason I fell hard for Cullen in Inquisition was because of both the pacing and content of his romance and how naturally it developed over the course of the game. In Veilguard it’s like - oh I like you (40 hours in), kiss, okay let’s bang, and that’s it. There isn’t even an option to connect with your LI or any companion outside of designated conversations.

The world-building, I was impressed by overall. I loved learning more about the Elvhen and Titans and the various factions you encounter. The lore itself was kinda wishy washy in places, because a lot of what made Dragon Age Dragon Age was seemingly scrubbed to avoid mentioning anything that may cause discourse on twitter. The Lords of Fortune don’t steal from other cultures! (Wha. But. They’re… Pirates. Isabela and the Qunari in DA2?) Tevinter has slavery EVERYWHERE, except Dock Town I guess. (Great post on my blog about this + Fenris not being around) The Crows, a band of cutthroat assassins who indoctrinate children, are *actually* a found family that care about each other (I guess Zevran lied). Everyone’s just… cool with elves wandering around despite the rampant racism and enslavement they’ve endured for centuries?? There are just so many edges that are dulled and I don’t understand why. Dragon Age is DARK fantasy. Or was, anyway.

Speaking of lore, the three choice thing is still asinine to me because there is so much that is altered by whatever choices you made in previous games but here it just isn’t addressed or glossed over to avoid specifics. (Well Ferelden is a pile of ash now anyway so I guess your choices REALLY don’t matter anymore lmao)

And now for the most glaring issue I had overall, which is the dialogue.

First of all, the game literally doesn’t know how to shut up. The characters legit explain EVERYTHING that happens as it’s happening and if you took one basic writing course you would know the golden rule is SHOW, DON’T TELL. More than once I was just like, is this necessary to narrate? Why are we narrating this? I can figure this shit out without being told upfront or a prompt showing up in the corner. Yes I know we have to stop the enemy we’re currently pursuing - you don’t need to say it every time we’re going after a new enemy. Thankfully this kinda peters out as the campaign progresses but even so, it can get annoying.

Secondly, the dialogue in of itself is just very elementary. Like I don’t need a Charles Dickens novel but c’mon, you can get a little more intense with your execution than just repeating over and over that we’re all besties and we gotta stop the gods. Cause honestly like 50% of the dialogue is just that in various iterations. Also incorporating real world terminology completely breaks any immersion for the in-game universe, just as a side note.

Again, I did enjoy this game, but for something I had been waiting forever for, and the fact that a studio known for their writing decided this was the best they could provide, idk man. It's awesome in some ways and disappointing in many others. I don't know if I'll do another playthrough because ultimately your choices amount to nothing, and it doesn't leave room for experimenting with other outcomes. Who knows if we'll see a DA5, but hopefully they take some lessons from the success that was BG3 to make something worth playing over and over again in the future.

[jordanraye47]

Headcanons about my favourite characters (yk who my fav is but whatever stfu /respectfully) [some ANSGT for y’all depressed people] ITS SO MUCH IZZY OMFG

Izzy is Scarlett’s younger sister. Idc if the order of seasons don’t let it make sense. Scarlett has older sister energy so I decide that they are sisters.

Noah has dyslexia. He loves to read and won’t let dyslexia stop him‼️Like his sisters see him with the same book for 3 months bc it takes AGES to read one

did I forget to mention that? He’s the youngest of ALOT of sisters (inspo from @deadmxnsparty on TT from the fic Stakes)

I have SO MUCH on izzy I need one list js for her so I’ll try and put a few on this one.

Her hair gets really really messy and often covers her face. So she ends up having to manually hold up her bangs if she has to look someone in the eyes or smth cause her hair covers up her eyes.

She canonically has psychosis, and being a pretty expressive and hyper person, it’s easy to get overwhelmed with emotions. So regardless of how many psychotic attacks or breakdowns she has, she never gets a full grip on how to handle them. So it ends with her running away from whatever situation she’s in so nobody sees her, and so she doesn’t hurt anyone.

NOAH AND IZZY ARE BEST FRIENDS BC I SAID SO

Just like Duncan, I think Izzy has some family that’s in the police or involved in it. So she’s definitely familiar with law and punishments. But she’s also really good at getting away with it.

Imagne if like Scott Izzy and Scarlett were siblings 😔 izzy would be a farmer lmao

I CANNOT FIND OUT IF SHE IS SCOTTISH OR IRISH ISTG

she wears crocs, attack me

She is not allowed in the kitchen alone. During cooking challenges on TD, she’s either js put to the fucking sidelines or someone it put on duty just to make sure she doesn’t fuck up.

got recruited by the FBI and/or army. She’s smart and strong like ??????

omfg I’m so bloated rn fuck my uterus

COURTZZY HCS (my pookies)

its js criminal x lawyer so she KNOWS the law, she just dgaf

regardless, she tries to help Courtney w work whenever she needs it. She probably has no idea what she’s doing but she tries helping at least, and she’s js happy when Courtney is. So like if Courtney passes an important test or smth, she js goes along w the excitement, even though she has no idea what’s happening.

and speaking of school n shit; Izzy dosent prioritise school, nor focus much on it. Especially compared to Courtney. But shes smart, enough to understand that Courtney is passionate about it. And as much as she likes bothering Courtney and hanging with her, Izzy’s quiet when she thinks Courtney needs silence to study, or just alone time in general.

IOTSSSS😈😈 (the angst is going hard rn. REREADING THIS IT SOUNDS SO DEEP AND LOWJRY POETIC IM PROUD) I wanna make this into a fic😔

Man the survivors guilt is CRAZY‼️🙏

Like she has Eva but the feeling that she had the opportunity to change the outcome still lingers. Like why didn’t she argue with Duncan enough to not let Noah stay

It’s not that she thought Noah wasn’t able to protect himself, but he didn’t. He didn’t exactly know how to fight, and he couldn’t sass his way out of death.

Duncan had to practically force Izzy along when they walked back. The danger of the island hadn’t properly gotten to her then, but if it had, she wouldn’t have let any of her friends out of her sight for a second.

She wasn’t strong enough to protect everyone, but she’s convinced she could’ve done better. And maybe Noah, Courtney, Owen, Lindsay and everyone else could’ve made it.

Like I said, the survivors guilt is pretty rough after a fucking massacre ykwim?

And she was 16 when this happened. And so was everyone else. And regardless of age, nobody should’ve gone though that, alive or not.

Her relationship to things associated with the death of her friends are definitely weird. Like when things like showering and drinking water felt like tasks. Like watching the water from the tap run for 10 minutes cause the image of Noah’s dead body in the water, surrounded by his own blood, wouldn’t leave her alone.

She felt disgusted by herself when she avoided water like the plague. She refused to leave the house, even to just go out with the trash or pick up the mail.

The neighbours across her father’s apartment used to come to her door and ask for her parents. They complained about how loud she was when she was outside by the playground when she was 10. Their jaws would probably drop if they saw how she’d changed.

She found herself on multiple occasions, talking to herself. Just to make sure she still had a voice. She hadn’t talked in ages. And even if she did, it was only to her siblings maybe once a week, and maybe a word or two to her parents if they were lucky.

Even after turning 17, the mentality and maturity stayed the same. The memories of that island never faded. But the others did. She had a few videos and pictures on a digital camera, and that was the best preserved memories of her friends. She was afraid that if she lost these, she’d forget their voice and face.

[bisluthq]

Why would CFW be treated u fairly though? Like did people have some bias against Joe even when he was with Taylor? Unless there’s some reason idk I’d assume it just want very good to most ppl but you personally liked it a lot. A lot of people find Joe boring and his portrayal of the character boring (yes I know he’s supposed to be etc) who don’t have any bias about him due to Taylor one way or the other

I think lots of people had and have anti Joe bias tbh ESPECIALLY and WHILE he was with Taylor lol like I think it’ll decrease over time. Literally every other review that DIDN’T like it made jokes about London Boy/Lover/etc so yea no they knew.

I think lots of people misunderstood the book. I say this very wholeheartedly but I saw reviews that were going on and on about how this isn’t how they imagined it/how “wrong” it is, but Sally was involved so… it’s how SHE imagined it? It’s also stylistically very in keeping with the book idk? I’m not sure what people imagined. I saw everything from Joe is “too young” to play Nick (he’s explicitly stated to be 30, Joe looked 30 in the show so idk) to Frances is too weird and awkward (that’s explicitly her personality in the book?? She’s super socially awkward, as is Nick, and that’s why they gravitate towards one another because both are overshadowed by Bobbi and Melissa generally and find they sorta can speak to one another rather).

3. I actually think people had Rooney fatigue after NP and BWWAY. She was like EVERYWHERE and I suspect that for a lot of people it sorta started to get less fresh and more annoying. I must say, I personally didn’t really enjoy BWWAY that much so like I too was perhaps a victim of Rooney fatigue and I’ve thought maybe I should reread that book in like 5 years and see what I think then. I’ve read it twice and I did like it better the second time so perhaps if I give it another 5 years I actually will legit like it. My current gripe with it are Alice’s emails, not because I dislike them individually but because I got the sense that they’re just Sally’s essays on like… life… and then she should’ve published an essay collection.

4. I also get the sense it came at a different time and was “bigger” than Normal People/a lot more hyped than that (I learned last nights one of the awards it won is being the most looked up TV project on IMDb) and that in part was Taylor related but it’s also just not a good thing because NP followed an organic thing and came out during the pandemic when we were all sad and horny and bored and so it was very zeitgeisty. (Same as folklore lol). Those two things were very pandemicy. By the time CWF came out, people had gotten vaxxed and were starting to go out so sad and boring and horny wasn’t necessarily what people wanted. Also people who WEREN’T the demographic for or hadn’t ever watched NP watched CWF and… were bored.

5. Back to the overhype/oversaturation like it’s a problem Marvel faces now. People are over it. I was watching a fairly long form piece on BBC about like Marvel’s fuckups in relation to Deadpool and Wolverine (obviously which will actually be a huge hit but which is also very different in tone/vibe than the rest of the MCU) and the one woman did say like audiences are just over Marvel and I tend to agree. I’m not sure the movies have gotten that much worse but we’re just over them.

6. I bring up all of the above because it wasn’t just Joe related obviously but like I saw criticism of essentially Lenny’s style (the hyper realism which is his hallmark) and it didn’t do well in technical categories even though it was technically phenomenal so 🤷🏻‍♀️ No, it wasn’t purely Taylor/Joe related but that didn’t help.

7. As I have said many, many times - Limited Series is probably the most competitive thing to seriously compete with these days and plenty of ones with big names and that are actually very genuinely GOOD, to use my least favorite term, “flop” but most (all based on that weird this was the most looked up thing on IMDb award) aren’t as hyped as this so people have more choice to watch it or nah.

[golden--doodler]

This is very random, but I just remembered that a long time ago my best friend found a writing prompt on having a character from any media you wanted come out to someone while drunk, so of course, I chose Jared from "Dear Evan Hansen" coming out to Zoey. Again, this is old, so I apologize in advance.

Also content warning for alcohol and swearing (also the mentioned past death of a character):

Jared turned around and stared into Zoey’s blue eyes, making her uncomfortable with the sheer intensity of it all.

“I need to tell you something.”

Jared had sprawled Zoey earlier on the couch, one arm hanging over the side. They had been laughing about one of Zoey’s classmates a few minutes earlier, having the time of their lives making fun of the classmates’ strange tone of voice, so his tone caught her off guard.

Zoey knew when he had that tone it was time to become serious, even though he was drunk (she opted out of having liquor because she had to drive home later). Zoey was glad she could spend some quality time with Jared, since they didn’t go to the same college, and he was quite bad at answering his messages. She was visiting her family, and should’ve been spending time with them, but since his school was near her house, she dropped by for the night and see how he was. Zoey wouldn’t admit it out loud, but he was better company than them anyway, since most of her parents’ conversations still revolved around Connor and how she was still exhibiting “emotional issues” because of her grief.

They had spoken little since high school, but it wasn’t as if they spoke much during high school, either, because he kept to himself most days and enjoyed locking himself in the computer lab. She remembered Evan involved him in the Connor Project, and Evan told her how he had convinced Jared to help forge emails to prove his fake friendship with Connor. Zoey’s brother was still a sore spot for her, and even though it had been years, her thoughts couldn’t help but wander to him; agitated ones, but some part of her still cared. Even though they were fake, Evan’s descriptions of Connor made her introspective about the past, and she could have gotten to know him more if she had tried. Of course, it didn’t matter now, but she couldn’t help but remind herself she wasn’t a model sister, no matter how much he tormented her.

She shook her head to free it of thoughts about Connor and stared back at Jared. “Is something wrong?”

“I don’t hate you,” He replied, as if he was afraid to say that to her.

She blinked, not comprehending, “I didn’t think you did.”

“Dunno. Just thought you might’ve thought that in high school,” He replied, slurring and running a hand through his hair. Zoey was even more alert, since Jared was so sure of himself.

“We didn’t talk,” she said.

He shrugged, “Guess so, but…”

He screwed his face in concentration, “I… shit.”

Zoey started becoming concerned. “You don’t have to speak if you don’t want to.”

He didn’t respond for a while, and then he muttered, “I hate awkward silences.”

“Jared, you don’t—”

“I was an asshole in high school and I know it,” He cut her off, making her narrow her eyes. Jared never interrupted people, not even when they were in high school. “But you, I was the biggest ass to.”

She glanced down, still not comprehending. She didn’t recall Jared ever being rude to her. Sure, he made a comment about Evan helping the Murphys when she greeted Evan once, but she assumed he acted brash and aloof to everyone.

“So I got special treatment from you?” She attempted a joke to lighten the mood.

“Not because of you,” He said in a sharp tone, then sighed. “If you couldn’t tell already, I’m bad at this.”

Zoey waited for him to get his thoughts in order, but she had to admit, she was feeling frustrated. She knew he had an affinity for repression, but she also knew he’d feel better if he talked about his feelings—doing that would’ve saved him a lot of drama in high school, at least. She noticed Jared had a wall put around him, the complete opposite of Zoey. Zoey let her emotions show and didn’t care. Jared, however, worried about other people’s perceptions of him. That caused him to pretend to be more confident than he was and led to no one tolerating him except for Evan.

She tried to coax something out of him with encouragement, “Jared, I’m not gonna judge you.”

It still got the message across despite coming out a little sharper than planned.

“I just want to know what you’re talking about.”

He looked away from her, “I was an ass because… Evan.”

“Evan? Why?”

Then everything fit together like a puzzle. Why Jared made that comment about Evan helping the Murphys, why he always seemed to make some sort of excuse to leave when he was around them, why he acted like he didn’t care about Evan, but he threw himself into the Connor Project, anyway.

“I’m just gonna say it.” His leg bounced up and down. “I acted that way because I’m… gay. I’m gay and I like Evan but he liked you.”

The gay part she already knew, “Oh. Yeah.”

“What?”

“The being gay is kind of obvious,” she said. “But… Evan… I didn’t know—“

He pursed his lips and looked away. “This was stupid. I shouldn’t have—"

“No, Jared, I’m glad you told me.” She attempted to smile to comfort him. “We’re not dating anymore. We haven’t been for a while, but I know him, and I don’t think you’d upset him if you told him. You don’t have to tell him now, but just… whenever you think you’re ready. When did you realize?”

Jared looked away for a second in silent contemplation before answering, “One time freshman year we were sitting on my couch watching some stupid nature documentary he was super into. He kept pointing things out and getting excited and shit. He looked at me and I couldn’t stop thinking about how happy he was.”

“His passion made me love him, too, and I haven’t stopped loving that part of him. Not the way you are thinking. I’m well past being interested in him,” she assured him. “I have a girlfriend, by the way.”

He raised his head, his face a picture of shock she would’ve found amusing in any other circumstance. “You do? I didn’t even have to worry about your reaction, then!”

She couldn’t hold back an eye-roll. “I thought it was obvious. Didn’t Alana tell you?”

He was silent for a moment. “Wait. You, Zoey Murphy, are now dating the Alana Beck?”

Her eyes widened, the reality of what she had just said reaching her. She shook her head, grateful they were talking at his house instead of her’s—she didn’t want to think about how her parents would’ve reacted to such news.

“Bisexuality exists, Kleinman.” She sighed, leaning back again, trying to seem casual despite her confession. “I still haven’t told my parents. Did you tell yours?”

He nodded in acknowledgement and started rubbing his forehead. She didn’t know if it was from the alcohol or a painful memory.

“I did… but thaz…” He looked down, as if he couldn’t remember. “… for another time.”

She was about to ask him about the story when she realized, “Wait, you’ve liked him since freshman year of high school? That was six years ago.”

“I know.” He ran a hand down his face, frustrated. “And he always talked about you. It was always Zoey Murphy joined a jazz band. Oh, I forgot her name and called her Chloe, she’s so beautiful, I want to talk to her.”

He looked at her and sighed. “Don’t take this the wrong way because trust me, you’re great. It just killed me whenever he looked at you. His face would light up like a Christmas tree. So, I pushed him away. I decided it would be easier to distance myself and try to pretend my feelings weren’t there. I told him we were just ‘family friends’, and yet… I still helped him.”

She nodded, soaking it all in. She noticed the dark circles under his eyes for the first time and decided.

“Get into bed and I’ll make you some coffee. Then you can tell me more.” He looked grateful, but then stopped.

“Your—“

“My family? I know. But they can wait for a bit. There’s still tomorrow,” she assured him.

“Shit, who knew Zoey waz such a rebel?” He joked and stumbled a bit as he stood up.

She sighed and put her arm around him and helped him walk to his bedroom.

It would be a long night.

[antixsocialthoughts]

Update:

MY HAIR GOT FUCKING RAINED ON ANYWAY

Updated update:

You know what? It’s fine. I’m just gonna go make some tea and brood while I fix my hair by burning it all over again. Then I’m gonna do something else that involves minimal use of my currently waning energy. I’m running on six hours of sleep just like yesterday and all I’ve had to eat since the night before last is some peaches and a few sips of coffee, which I’ve most likely burned off from running so much in the last few days.

I’m feeling a little bit shaky so the tea probably isn’t the best idea right now — especially since green tea has a fair amount of caffeine — but I’ll at least put some sugar in it just to see if that helps at all. I haven’t been drinking as much water as I should’ve been with all this exercise and not enough food, but I’ll start drinking a little more this time around.

Also I’m not really sure if this has anything to do with the exercise or how much I’m eating or my sleep because it’s happened at totally normal times before — but I’ve gotten a little bit dizzy from standing up kinda quickly a couple times today. It’s happened even before I started doing all this unhealthy crap to lose weight, so I’m not sure what’s up with that. I don’t wanna say it feels like I might pass out, because I don’t even know that feels, but it does make me feel a little wobbly for a few seconds before it goes away. So yeah, there’s that.

[harcove]

you uh. wouldn't mind an angst request would you haha because I have had this one scenario stuck in my head where leon (probably resi 6 leon) has been drinking a lot more and has been neglecting his s/o and they finally call him out on his shit

anyway ooga booga they fight and decide it's best they give leon his space and take a break and maybe he finds them at a bar he goes to to get wasted to already find them drunk off their ass

Angst is absolutely one of my most favourite things to write and to read like damn I do be out here making myself CRY. So I definitely don't mind angst like hell yeah!

I was gonna end this was a happier note- but uh, I really love angst so I left it semi-open ended but also pretty sad I think. Also not really dialogue-heavy, more like... I write too much detail-heavy :,) Also this isn't edited, I spent days on this cause I was overthinking it and felt it was just not good so oof I'm sorry!

Length: 2k

Request: in the ask

Warnings: angst, drinking, lowkey it's alcoholism on Leon's part, being drunk

Leon x Reader - "I know."

How long had it been since you had held your boyfriend's hand? Since the two of you had really sat together and done something together, fully, completely, involved, and focused on one another. You didn't even remember, which was agonizing to think about.

You had been through so much with Leon. And you knew where his deepest thought lay, but you could never truly know. And it didn't help that over the years the two of you had together, he had started to become more distant. And instead of finding his comfort in your arms, he found it in some glass bottle.

At first, you didn't really protest much, you didn't say much about it. A drink every once in a while couldn't hurt. Yet, it wasn't every once in a while. It was more often than you'd have liked. And he was using it to forget. To focus on anything else but his life and his memories. Your soft words trying to talk to him didn't do much to stop him or dissuade him. He brushed you off more often than not. It tore you up from the inside out that you couldn't help him, that at some point a bottle was his chosen form of comfort over you.

The guilt mixed with sadness, and then with anger. And in the end, those feelings came together and created an explosion between the two of you one night.

Your throat was hoarse as you swallowed as much air as you could. You couldn't exactly remember what the argument stemmed from but you knew it had to be related to him drinking.

"Will you just listen to me?!" You shouted, the words coming out uneven as your throat begged you to stop, "put that shit down Leon, and look at me!"

The man sitting at the aisle in your kitchen put the flask he had down in front of him, but still had his hands on it. He turned his head to look at you, barely even moving at all, and his eyes were looking at you like he was unimpressed or annoyed.

"I'm listening."

You wanted to pull on your hair and scream because he wasn't. He wasn't listening, and he hadn't been, at least not for a while.

"No you aren't, you are not listening to a word I say, you never do!"

He scoffed, turning back to his drink and taking another sip.

"Where am I going on Friday?"

"What?" He looked at you incredulously, completely lost as your voice went from yelling at him to speaking relatively peacefully, but there was no peace in your voice.

"I said, where am I going on Friday, Leon," you repeated with clenched fists, "if you listen to me if you even bother to pay attention to me, you would know the answer. So where am I going on Friday?"

The silence was your answer, as you expected it to be, you just hadn't expected it to be so painful.

"I'm going to visit my family in the town over," your voice was low and tired, and you wanted to cry but you couldn't even find it in you to do that, "I told you that a thousand times Leon I..."

Biting your lip hard, you felt yourself break skin, and the metallic taste of blood invaded your taste buds. You were so angry at him moments before, angry enough you had been yelling. But suddenly you weren't angry anymore. You were just so sad; sad for yourself and sad for him. He wasn't going to listen to you, not right now, that much was clear.

"I've been busy Y/N-" whatever he said was wasted on deaf ears as you drowned them out unintentionally, your eyes trained on the flask he nursed.

For once, you knew you had to let it be. You had to give him space, and give yourself space.

"I'm sleeping in the guest room," you offered lamely after the long silence between the two of you after he had finished whatever he had said. Leon looked up at you, with a look of surprise, and confusion, "we both need space. From each other. I just... Don't stay up drinking all night."

"Y/N-" his words once again fell upon deaf ears, and his fingers just missed your arm as you turned and went upstairs to the room usually used by people like Claire, or Chris, sometimes Sherry.

When morning came, you had gotten up later than usual, Leon was already gone as he usually was early in the morning with his job and everything. Your heart felt heavier as you walked into the empty kitchen and noted the vodka bottle you two had been given as a gift was half empty. Something in you asked if it was all worth it; did it really do so much that he drank more than he should've? Did it take away the feelings of hopelessness, like the one you were currently stuck in?

Those were the thoughts that followed you the entire day as you went about your routine. They followed you all the way to the spare bedroom of one of your old friend's homes as you decided you and Leon needed to take a break. If you didn't do that, you feared you would only lose him completely. Or lose yourself. It was exhausting.

But what was even more exhausting was not seeing him. You worried for him, and even if you sometimes felt like he didn't, he worried for you.

It would take about a week before something would crack, before the storm that had been brewing between you two, the one that laid dormant after you walked out to take from your relationship, would begin to thunder again, but in a much different way.

"We're here to have fun," your friend who had been letting you stay over said as she pushed a shot of... something into your hands, leaning against the bar from your side while you said on one of the barstools, "and loosen up. You specifically."

You rolled your eyes; this wasn't in your plan for the day, going to a bar. But it was more than you had done in the past week now. Your routine consisted of going to work and heading back to your friends. Nothing more, nothing less.

You wanted Leon. But you couldn't have him right now. You were still upset, and you didn't even know if he wanted you right now. Everything was a mess.

Things seemed to blur together over the course of the night in the bar, your friend insisting on you trying each new drink she got, some not new too. You had had one drink that you ordered of your own volition, and it had been a regular bottle of beer. But the shots your friend got for you two, and the sips of the drinks your friend ordered, culminated into more than you realized and you could say you were a bit more than just tipsy.

For some reason though, your friend seemed to be chugging along much better than you, you must've been a lightweight.

You hadn't even seen your friend in a while, but you also were so out of it that you couldn't exactly comprehend time properly at that current moment in time.

A hand on your arm and a familiar voice seemed to sober you a bit as your eyes met familiar blue, but they were clouded over with pain, with worry. Confusion too, and a bit of shock. Your fingers twitched, aching to touch his arm. His face. To smooth the furrow that seemed to be etching itself into his brow, threatening to become a new and permanent feature.

But the sober feeling you experienced also stopped you from doing any of the above. Rather, your body stiffened a bit and you pulled away from his touch, only barely missing the look of hurt that glided over his features as you did so.

"L-Leon?" the alcohol in your system made it sound more like you were questioning if he was real rather than saying his name, "What are you-"

The question you were going to ask didn't even need to be finished. It didn't even need an answer from him, because even if you were drunk, you knew Leon. And you knew why he was there.

"Oh," you couldn't help but scoff, "you want my drink? It'll start you off-"

Leon wasn't going to pretend that he hadn't come to the bar to drink away his sorrows; to forget all the pain he held onto and the nightmares he couldn't escape, and now the pain of not having you around. But when he walked in and saw you? Something in him stopped. Something in him twisted and he felt nauseous and for once it wasn't because of a hangover, but it was because of you.

You looked so miserable. Not that you realized you were wearing your heart on your sleeve at the bar, with the dejected look on your face and the limp hand holding onto a beverage you clearly didn't enjoy. Whilst at the same time, you looked empty.

Is that what you saw? Is that what he looked like to you when he was drinking? When he was at home or at a bar, focusing on anything but reality?

Leon didn't want a drink anymore, he wanted to get you out of a place that didn't suit you whatsoever. He wanted to take you home, he didn't want you to be him.

"You didn't come here alone, did you?" He cut off whatever you were trying to say as he looked into your eyes sternly.

"What? N-no I'm not stupid... I came here with a friend."

It didn't take long for Leon to figure out the friend because he spotted her coming near the bar, and recognized her.

"Hey, I'm taking Y/N home," Leon tried to not sound aggressive when he spoke, but it may have only made him sound more upset.

"Leon? Oh, ya, of course. Are you two...?"

"We'll be fine," Leon replied as he helped you stand up, "thanks for being with them."

He hadn't just meant in the bar but in the past week. It was left unsaid, but it was laid bare.

As much as you wanted to pull away from the man who gently wrapped one of his strong arms around your waist, and used the other to hold your arm behind his neck, you couldn't. You didn't have the strength to, and you missed him.

Leon was glad he had taken the car and not his motorcycle. There was no way in hell he would've been able to keep you on a motorcycle all the way back to your home that you shared, or well, you hadn't for the past week. But that wasn't the point.

"You're so mean Leon..." you mumbled as he helped you get into the passenger seat of the car. He all but carried you into it like a child and leaned across you to put your seat belt on. You leaned your face into his neck as he did so, breathing deeply.

"I just... Want you to be happy," you continued sloppily, "but you won't... Let me in..."

Leon's breathing stopped for a moment as he stilled, his hand still on the seatbelt he had just finished putting you in. He quickly pulled himself together and pulled back, adjusting the belt on your body so it wasn't digging into your lazy form, but it was still doing its job.

"I know."

There was so much more he could say, but he couldn't.  He wasn't sure if he ever could.

He settled himself into the driver's seat and got ready to start the car up.

"I still love you though..." your words were slurred as you rested your head on the car window, feeling your eyes grow heavier.

"I..." Leon's hand was turning white at the knuckles from how hard he was holding the steering wheel. He didn't deserve you. And you didn't deserve this.

"I know..."

[gweasleycore]

pairing; werewolf!f.reader x boyfriends!wolfstar

word count; 5.5k words

warnings; sirius gets freaky in class, (f)masturbation, voyeurism, threesome, mxm, fingering, dom!female, remus is a Sub, sirius is a brat(who knew), penetrative sex, oral sex(m & f receiving), anal sex(m receiving), dirty talk, lots of cursing, again the word length is used (i'm sorry i couldn't use cock every time & dick makes me uncomfy), Lots of praising remus (he is baby & he loves)

a/n; though they're in hogwarts, you can assume that all parties involved are 18+. now, here's a wolfstar threesome no one asked for bc i flip flop between the two of them like a fish out of water & it wasn't until last night the little idea man in my brain said "why not both"

☆☆☆☆☆

"afternoon boys, something you need?" you asked the two boys sat across from you in the great hall, not taking your eyes off your book.

"how'd you know it was us?" sirius asked, glancing over at his boyfriend who was less than shocked.

"i could smell your cologne from the moment you walked into the room." you said dully, making remus stifle a laugh as sirius rolled his eyes.

"whatever," he mumbled under his breath, brushing off his shirt like it would tone down the scent at all. "we were planning to skip our last class, thought you might join us."

you looked up at sirius through your lashes, your brow quirking upwards. you weren't shocked by his suggestive tone, truthfully he only ever wore that god awful cologne when he was hoping to get some. tonight was also right between full moons which happened to be when both you and remus were at your most physically stable.

"i'm reading padfoot," you said, holding your book up, "you interrupted my reading time to proposition me?" you tutted, shaking your head as you closed your book. "i expect something like this from him moony, but you too? shame, tonight could've been so much fun for all of us."

remus gulped under your gaze, your tone daring him to look away, something he knew much better than to do.

"so, is that a yes?" sirius asked earning an elbow to the ribs from his boyfriend.

"sorry pads, afraid not." you said, standing up to leave before you called over your shoulder, "have fun thinking of me tonight."

sirius sat with a shit eating grin on his face while remus looked positively shattered.

"what are you smiling about? she turned us down!" remus said, shoving sirius lightly, "i told you we should've waited."

"oh moony," sirius said, pushing back a strand of hair on remus's forehead making the younger boy glance around nervously, "do you not know her at all by now? that was so clearly a challenge."

"how in merlin's name was that a challenge, she flat out said no." remus said, pulling sirius's hand from his neck as his touch was setting his skin alight and he did not fancy getting hard in the middle of the great hall.

"don't you worry your pretty little head, just leave it to me." sirius said, standing up, pulling remus along with him.

"i don't think i like that idea." remus said but allowed sirius to drag him to their next class, one they shared with you.

the two of them sat in their usual spot at the back of the class. sirius took the seat next to you, remus next to him. this was perfect, sirius thought, it was just the three of you to a row and on both yours and remus' side the wooden desk blocked your legs from view, giving sirius tons of possibilities.

sirius waited for the class to start before he put his plan into action. remus had been unassuming when he felt sirius's hand on his thigh, it wasn't exactly a rare occurrence, but when the palm of his hand inched higher remus felt his breath hitch.

remus looked over at his boyfriend with wide eyes. sirius smirked and gestured with his eyes in your direction, signaling that this was apart of the plan. remus was unsure, but he'd never been very good at rejecting his pretty boyfriend, so he nodded reluctantly and leaned forward, putting his elbows on the desk.

sirius focused on remus for a moment, teasing him before he finally started rubbing his already growing bulge. he'd almost gotten too wrapped up in the way remus's face twisted and his hips squirmed in the seat, but then he heard you shift next to him and he was reminded of the plan.

leaning back sirius kept his hand on remus, not slowing on his work there, and looked over at you to, unsurprisingly, find you already watching them. sirius smirked at your flustered appearance, your lip pulled between your teeth. sirius leaned over to you, breaking your trance and snapping you back into reality as he whispered in your ear,

"doesn't he look so cute trying to hold in his moans like that?" he asked you, deciding to go for your weakness for remus first. sirius always had been one for starting strong. your eyes raked up to remus's face that was being half covered by his large hands to muffle any moans that managed to escape his lips.

your thighs rubbed together involuntarily as you watched him, he truly was so pretty, you thought. you jumped when you felt sirius's free hand fall between your thighs, somehow slithering its way in enough to pry them apart. he looked over at you to make sure you were okay with this, and was met with both desire and anger. sirius knew you liked to be the one in charge, he'd always been quite a challenge for you. smirking, sirius trailed his hand further up your thigh, his fingertips passing the hem of your skirt with an eyebrow raised, like he was waiting for you to stop him even though he knew you wouldn't.

his smug grin only grew when he reached his destination and he began rubbing you over your panties. satisfied with himself sirius tilted his head back to look at remus who was an absolute mess his eyes locked on sirius's hand disappeared underneath your skirt. in that moment remus wished he had X-ray vision and he only hoped this would convince you to join them later that night.

☆☆☆☆☆

"i bet you boys think you're pretty clever, pulling that stunt in charms." you said as you pushed remus down onto the bed, turning to grab sirius, who had his lips latched onto your neck from behind, by the collar.

"it got you here didn't it?" sirius asked smugly and you practically growled, forcing him down across the foot of the bed. you crawled on top of him, straddling his waist as you gripped his throat.

"it seems the two of you have forgotten who exactly is in charge here." you said, not taking your eyes off sirius, determination boiling in the pit of your stomach to remind him just who he was dealing with. "why don't you join your boyfriend up there?"

your words were less of a suggestion and more of a command as you nodded at remus who was sat against the headboard of sirius's bed, shirtless and waiting patently with his lip between his teeth. you tried to ignore the way your heart fluttered at the sight of him, reminding yourself you were meant to be punishing him.

sirius complied, smiling at remus as he climbed up next to him. he reached out to kiss his boyfriend and you smacked him harshly on the leg.

"no touching." you snapped. remus whimpered at this, but sirius only smirked, putting his hands up in surrender. truthfully, he liked being pushed around by you, but from time to time he liked to challenge you, make you mad, he often enjoyed the punishments you dished out for him. sirius truly was a brat at heart and he couldn't help but push back occasionally, unlike his very adorable boyfriend who lived to submit. maybe this was why you found yourself so fond of your fellow werewolf.

you stood from the bed, pulling your wand from the inside of your robes and mumbled both muffliato and colloportus just in case, though you were pretty sure james and peter both knew not to interrupt.

you turned back to face the two boys, tossing your wand onto remus's bed, along with your robes. slowly you began to unbutton your white collared shirt and you watched as sirius kept his cool while remus followed your hands eagerly.

you'd never admit it to him, but you enjoyed the dynamic between you and sirius. of course remus was everything you liked in a partner, sirius did have a way of challenging you without ever going too far.

after throwing your shirt onto the growing pile of clothes on remus's bed you climbed up onto the end of the bed, sitting on your knees in between their outstretched legs.

"i wonder what i should do with the two of you." you thought aloud, looking between the two of them as you pretended to search for an idea. you smiled widely, as if you'd just thought of something and you propped yourself back up against the post on the end of sirius's bed.

you trailed your hands from the back of your neck, down to your covered breasts before you reached around to free them from your light pink lace bra. you took the garment and flung it up at sirius who caught it easily, rolling his eyes at you before tossing it off to the side. you focused your touch on your breasts for a moment, pushing them together and flicking over your nipples, making yourself moan lightly.

you locked eyes with remus as you ran your hands down your stomach and over the tops of your thighs, making a show of spreading them open to reveal your clothed core. remus gulped as he kept eye contact with you, silently hoping you'd let him look, even if only for a moment. you smirked at him, satisfied with his efforts and nodded trying not to chuckle when his eyes immediately snapped between your legs.

you pulled your skirt up further to make sure they cold see before you ran your hands up your thighs to your panties. you kept one hand placed on your thigh, holding it open as your other hand dipped below your panties. you trailed your fingers along your slit carefully before you pushed past your lips, gathering up some of your wetness and trailing it up to your clit. you bit your lip and let your head fall back against the post behind you, letting yourself enjoy the feeling of your fingers circling your clit.

"come on, y/n," sirius said, his voice a bit groggy, making you smile to yourself, "at least take the panties off so we can see."

you looked up at him, glancing down to see his cock straining against his black trousers. you smirked, shaking your head slightly. not breaking eye contact with him you pushed a finger inside yourself, letting your mouth fall open dramatically as your eyes rolled back. you heard him let out a sharp breath, but nothing more. you smiled as you continued to finger yourself, though admittedly you were restrained a bit by your panties.

you looked over at remus who's lip was surely on the verge of bleeding from the tight grip his teeth had on it and his eyes were watery. his eyes had not left your movements and you felt yourself pitying him when you saw how tight his pants had gotten.

"moony," you crooned, catching his gaze, his eyes full of desperation "how much of that little stunt earlier was your idea?"

remus's mouth fell open slightly and he started to look over at sirius before you stopped him, commanding him to answer you himself.

"it, well i guess none of it was my idea." he said quietly, almost guiltily as he had a feeling you were about to shift the punishment onto sirius solely.

"hmm, i had a feeling." you said, looking over at sirius who seemed to see where this was going. there was a part of him that wanted to protest, the desire to be touched even if he had to do it himself growing. but there was a bigger part that wanted to see how long you'd make him hold out, if you'd give him any kind of relief at all or if he was going to be left to finish himself off in the shower later that night.

"i don't suppose it's very fair of me to punish the whole class when there's only one perpetrator, what about you sirius?" you asked, his smile growing a bit.

"no, you're absolutely right." he said, looking from you to remus who looked both excited and guilty at the same time.

without a word you climbed up the bed, your hands trailing up remus's thighs before you stopped, your knees bent as you sat right between his legs.

"hi, pretty boy." you said sweetly, pushing a hand through his hair that had started to stick to the thin layer of sweat on his forehead.

"hi." he said, a soft smile breaking out across his face as he looked up at you.

"you gonna be good for me?" you asked, already knowing the answer. he nodded eagerly making you smile at him as you leaned down to kiss him. remus's breathing quickened as you trailed kisses from his jaw down his bare chest all the way to his trousers. you looked up at him as you kissed from the top of his covered bulge down to the bottom, then shifted your eyes to sirius who was watching with dark eyes as you licked back up all the way to the waistband of remus's pants. remus shuddered underneath you, pulling your attention back to him.

you undid the button of remus's trousers, helping him pull them off along with his boxers, leaving him completely undressed under you. you smiled up at him sweetly as you took his heavy cock in your hand, licking up the length of it slowly before taking him in your mouth.

remus was quite large and you couldn't quite fit all of him in your mouth. he was thick, and his length was more than satisfactory. compared to sirius he did look a bit shorter, but while sirius was longer he wasn't quite as thick as remus.

remus moaned beneath you as you pushed your head as far down as you could, letting your drool coat the base of his cock as you stroked what wouldn't fit with your hand.

at that, you pulled off of him shushing his whimpers of protest as you leaned over to sirius who was watching the two of you with lust and pain mixing in his eyes. you let your mouth hover over his, pulling back slightly when he tried to meet yours before finally crashing your lips together. you swirled your tongue around with his, letting him taste his boyfriend on your tongue before you pulled back.

"why don't you get out of those? looks awfully painful." you said, gesturing downwards at his trousers. sirius didn't have the energy to quip back, instead he eagerly did as you said, pulling his trousers and boxers off and throwing them across the room. you smiled as you moved back over to remus, finding his eyes on his newly naked boyfriend. you couldn't blame him, sirius was quite pretty.

still, you wanted his attention on you. you took remus's hands in yours, putting one on your hip and one at the waistband of your panties underneath your skirt. eagerly, remus pulled your panties down your legs before his fingers rubbed against your slit, his eyes widening at how wet you were. you pushed yourself down further into his hand, moaning softly as his fingers grazed your clit.

"go on moony, get me ready for that pretty cock of yours." you urged, making his eyes go wide. he pushed one finger into you, your own fingering from earlier plus the amount of arousal making it an easy fit. remus pumped in and out of you a few times before adding another finger and pushing his palm up to rub against your clit.

you pulled up your skirt as you moaned, giving sirius a clear view. you moaned as remus added a third finger, his palm being replaced by the thumb on his free hand. you looked down at him through hooded eyes and felt sparks in your chest to find him already watching you, his eyes wide and hopeful like he wanted you to praise him. you smiled at him and grabbed his hand, making him stop. you leaned down to kiss the sudden frown away.

"if you keep going like that you'll make me cum," you said into his lips, smiling as he sucked in a breath, "and i want to cum around your cock, if that's okay with you?"

remus nodded eagerly, making you laugh. he really was so cute. you reached back to unzip your skirt, pulling it off before straddling remus's hips, positioning yourself over his cock. you let him line himself up to your entrance and slowly you sat down, hissing as no preparation could really prepare you for his size. remus gripped your hips tightly, taking in the feeling of your velvety walls around him, you always were so tight.

the two of you were a moaning mess by the time you managed to sit all the way down on him. you could feel him twitching inside you and it made you shiver, you wished you could feel like this all the time.

looking over at sirius who had his eyes glued to your connected bodies you whistled at him, catching his gaze. his eyes were filled with desperation as you smiled, almost satisfied enough to let him enjoy himself, almost, but not quite. you placed your hands on remus's shoulders as you slowly started to glide up and down his length. without breaking eye contact with sirius you leaned down to kiss remus, muffling the moans leaving his throat.

"remus baby, look at pads, do you think he's learned his lesson?" you asked, smiling teasingly at sirius who's eyes had lit up with hope.

"truthfully, yn, i don't think sirius will ever fully learn his lesson, but i think for today maybe yes." remus said, his voice wavering as your bouncing did not falter in the slightest.

"hmm, i suppose you can touch him then, if you want." you said, placing a quick kiss to remus's lips before pulling one of his hands from your hip. remus looked over at sirius who quickly nodded, taking remus's hand from your hip and wrapping it around his cock with a deep groan.

remus stroked sirius slowly, gradually quickening his pace to match your bouncing on his cock. sirius looked over at you as relief filled his eyes and you smiled. you could tell though that remus's hand would not be enough for sirius with how worked up he'd gotten, you took the opportunity to mess with him some more.

"what is it sirius? you like watching me fuck your boyfriend like this while you just get his hand?" you asked, slowing your pace as you rolled your hips every time you descended, leaving remus a moaning mess.

"fuck, please princess, you know i need more." sirius said, bucking his hips up into remus's hand.

"you might," you said, leaning back to give both he and remus a better view of his cock sliding in and out, "but do you deserve more?"

"yes!" he called, throwing his head back, "i do, i've been good ever since we got in here. i listened! i did't touch myself or you or remus! please, yn, it hurts so bad."

you looked down at remus who looked up at you pleadingly, this was all the convincing you needed. you nodded, pulling off of remus slowly, both of you groaning at the loss of contact. you made your way up between sirius's legs, pulling remus along with you so you both were face to face with sirius's aching cock.

taking the lead you trailed your tongue up from the base to the head, taking him in your mouth without teasing, you figured you'd done enough of that already. sirius moaned deeply and you felt him twitch in your mouth. you pulled back with a pop, ignoring sirius's protests as you pushed remus's head down, guiding him until he moved on his own. you watched him as you gripped his hair. you looked up at sirius who was watching the two of you and smiled,

"doesn't he look so pretty, pads, with his mouth stuffed full?" you asked, "doing such a good job for you."

"fuck, yes, always." sirius said, putting his hand over yours, lacing his own fingers through remus's hair. you could see the growing blush on remus's face at the praise. you had the sudden urge to kiss him, so you pulled his head back and did just that. you then pulled his head down so that both of your mouths were on sirius's dick, making him moan at the feeling of both of your tongues on him.

pulling back you smiled at both boys before lying back flat against the bed. they both watched as you dipped your fingers into your heat, biting your lip and waiting to see which one would move first. you were surprised when remus fell in front of you, his hands sliding up your thighs as he placed soft kisses along them. sirius smirked from behind him, seemingly proud of his boyfriends boldness.

"leaving me out again are we?" sirius asked, leaning to the side to watch remus trail kisses up to your vulva before he licked a hard stripe up your soaking core. you tilted your head back and moaned, your hand lacing through remus's messy hair. "i'm beginning to think the two of you like each other more than either of you like me."

remus ignored this, sticking his tongue inside you and sending a wave of pleasure through your body.

"your boyfriends got his ass pointed right at you and all you can think about is your own jealousy?" you teased, your body shaking when remus laughed, his tongue acting as a vibrator.

"well when my boyfriends giving you the best head of your life and i still haven't got to fuck either of you it's hard not to get a little jealous." sirius said, though he didn't sound like he was actually hurt.

"then why don't you stop talking and fuck me?" remus asked making both you and sirius go wide eyed.

"look what you've done to our baby, sirius! you made him bratty!" you said, gripping his hair tightly as sirius smacked him on the ass. remus moaned loudly, pushing his hips back into sirius's as you pushed his head back down onto your heat.

"no princess i think it's you that made him bratty. moony never gets snippy unless he has to wait for me to fuck him, you're the one that wouldn't let me touch my pretty boy." sirius said, rubbing his hands up the backs of remus's thighs as he spoke.

"is our baby boy getting impatient?" you asked sweetly, pulling remus's head back off of you. you admired the way his lips glistened with your arousal as he nodded, a clear pout on his lips. "poor thing,"

you pulled him up so that he was hovering above you before you kissed him, licking all traces of your arousal off his lips. you could feel sirius climbing up between yours and remus's legs, and you heard the familiar sound of a bottle snapping open.

remus moaned into your lips and his hips fell into yours as sirius rubbed his lubed up fingers around remus's hole. you moaned beneath him as his heavy cock brushed between your folds, the unexpected friction sending shockwaves through your body.

"remus?" you said softly. he opened his eyes that he hadn't even realized were closed and caught your hazy gaze, "will you fuck me please?"

he did not need to be asked twice. remus dipped his fingers between your legs, gathering some of your wetness and coated his cock before pushing himself into you slowly. between the feeling of your walls wrapped so tightly around him and sirius's fingers working to stretch him out, remus was sure he would not last.

you both cursed when his hips finally met yours, this angle letting him in deeper than he had been before. behind him sirius was lining himself up to remus's entrance, placing soft kisses to his shoulder as he pushed in slowly.

remus fell forward completely lying on top of you as sirius worked his way in. you moaned loudly at the new feeling, though you felt like you were being crushed remus was pushed all the way into you, and with every move of sirius's hips remus's cock was grazing your sweet spot ever so slightly.

"fuck, please i need more." you whined, your voice and your words not sounding like your own. remus sunk his teeth into your shoulder as he tried to move his hips into yours but couldn't as sirius had him trapped.

"god you sound so sweet begging like that, princess." sirius said, pushing into remus faster in an attempt to relieve some of your pressure.

you shook your head with your eyes shut tight, it wasn't enough. you could feel remus twitch inside you and you knew he was getting close. reaching back around him you pushed his lower back further into your stomach, forcing him to arch his back further, giving sirius a deeper angle.

"oh fuck, fuck i'm gonna cum." remus said into your shoulder, his hips shaking as he tried to push his hips down into yours and back against sirius's.

"go ahead baby boy, you've done so good, cum for us." you said softly, brushing back remus's hair as you spoke. you felt him release inside you as he let out a string of shaky moans along with both yours and sirius's name.

"such a good boy," sirius said, slowing his pace as he rubbed his hands over remus's ass and up his back.

sirius pulled out slowly before he helped remus off of you, both you and him groaning in pain. sirius laid remus down next to you, kissing him sweetly. you watched the moment with a smile before sirius glanced your way.

"you mind if i finish y/n off?" sirius asked, looking back down at remus who's eyes went wide as he realized you hadn't finished.

"don't worry about me, i can take care of it myself." you said, ready to get up so they could have their alone time.

"no!" remus called, grabbing your wrist, "you've been so good to us, please let him. besides, he hasn't finished either."

you glanced over at sirius, watching him for a moment as you contemplated. you three had done this a few times before, but still never once had sirius fucked you. it had only been you and remus. you weren't even entirely sure why they'd asked you to join them in the first place, aside from the fact that you knew they were both bi and you and remus had been each other's firsts.

at the reminder of this memory, you looked to remus who was watching you hopefully, his lip tugged between his teeth absentmindedly as he waited for your response.

"okay," you said, looking back up at sirius, "okay, yeah."

sirius grinned, climbing over top of you as he spoke, "i knew you couldn't resist me."

you rolled your eyes before hooking your feet around his thighs, pulling his hips into yours. he slipped in easily, and you could instantly tell a difference in the two boys. remus stretched you out more but sirius went in deeper. both felt like heaven inside you and you wondered how you'd ever get your fill.

"fuck, how are you still so tight?" sirius wondered aloud, starting with a quicker pace than what remus usually set to begin with. you might've complained had you not been thoroughly prepped by remus already.

"merlin, now i see why you can't stay away from her moony, she does look good like this." sirius said pushing your thighs out flat as he pounded into you making you moan loudly at how deep he was hitting.

"fuck, sirius, you feel so good." you moaned, letting go of all hesitation now that he was making you feel this good. sirius smiled above you in satisfaction and you could feel remus's hands dancing along your shoulder before he reached your breasts, toying with your nipples as sirius fucked you.

"fuck, are you close princess? i feel you tightening up already." sirius asked, pulling one of remus's hands down to rub your clit.

"oh fuck, yes please, right there." you said, not sure which one you were even talking to. sirius was pounding into you hitting just the right spot repeatedly as remus was rubbing your clit at just the right speed. you felt your release wash over you like a cold blanket, your pleasure more intense than you'd ever felt before. you heard sirius and remus both curse before sirius pulled out and you felt his release hit your stomach. you frowned a bit, disappointed that he hadn't finished inside you.

when you opened your eyes you realized why he hadn't and your eyes widened.

"fuck, yn, i didn't know you could do that." remus said, staring down at sirius's torso that was glistening with your release.

"we have to make you do that again." sirius said eagerly, and if you didn't know better you'd say he meant right then.

"not now, pads, give her some time to rest. we can do it next time." remus said, pulling your head into his lap as he brushed your hair out of your face, nodding for sirius to go get something to clean you up.

"next time?" you asked, your voice quiet and reserved despite the fact that you were lying in their bed, naked. even though this was not a first occurrence you never really thought there had been much planning to it. you just assumed that every now and then they'd get in the mood to have a girl present and you happened to be available.

"well, yeah," remus said carefully, not wanting to overstep, "we were hoping this could be a thing."

"what my adorably awkward boyfriend is trying to say," sirius said, walking in with a wet wash rag, "is that we really enjoy doing this with you and we'd like to keep doing so, maybe more often if you're interested."

"i'm not sure if i completely understand,"

"i know the two of you have feelings for each other," sirius said, cutting to the chase. at his words you snapped your mouth shut, not daring to look at either one of them, "it's okay, i know they were already there when we got together."

"we want to keep having these moments with you," remus said pulling you up to look at him, "but we also want other kinds of moments too, like, cute ones."

"i meant cute ones with our clothes on." he said.

"yeah like this one, you two look pretty adorable like that all naked and close." sirius said, a smirk on his lips. remus glared at him before looking back at you.

"i meant cute ones with our clothes on." he said.

"so you're asking me to," you trailed off, looking between the two of them, unsure if you were understanding.

"to date us, basically." sirius said nonchalantly.

your mouth fell open as you looked at remus, you two had been friends for quite a while and even though you'd been each other's firsts you never actually dated. so to hear that he wanted that from you, it honestly made your heart flutter. it was no secret you'd been in love with him for some time now.

your face broke out in a smile before you pulled his face to yours, kissing him. remus smiled into the kiss, loving the feeling of your hands on his face and your lips on his.

"hey, don't leave me," sirius's words were cut off by you pulling him in by the back of the neck, kissing him the same way you'd kissed remus. you could feel remus's smile grow against your hand on his face and you pulled back, pushing the two boys together for a kiss of their own.

"so," sirius trailed off, looking from remus to you, "is that a yes?"

you rolled your eyes as remus laughed. the three of you lied there together throughout dinner, cuddling and talking. later on you’d all sneak into the kitchens where you’d then have to find somewhere to stop for the three of you to continue where you left off, and your two boyfriends would definitely make good on their earlier promise.

☆☆☆☆☆

taglist: @padfootswife

[rpsocsandcanonohmy]

Sam centric asks. Even numbers only. Please?

2. Best season of Sam?

I’m gonna have to go with season 2. It’s the best season of powers!Sam and it’s one of the last times we get to see Sam stand up for himself and get angry without it being painted as a bad thing by the narrative. Season 2 is probably my favorite overall but it’s definitely one of Sam’s better ones. 

4. Most compelling dynamic?

“Compelling” is an interesting word to use here. Normally I’d say Sam & Dean but I feel like after 15 seasons I’ve gotten to know their dynamic pretty well (almost too well honestly). So I’ll go with Sam & Jack because we didn’t get nearly enough of them and Sam really wasn’t appreciated as a father figure for him.

6. What do you think about Sam's ending?

It’s beautifully tragic. He finally got the happy apple-pie life he wanted but he had to lose literally everyone he loved before it could happen. He finally got to have a kid that he could raise in the safety of a life outside of hunting but he had to do it without Dean or John or even Mary to see it. Ultimately, I don’t think he was fully happy until he died and met Dean in heaven again.

8. Your opinion on Sam's relationship with Dean?

Sam and Dean’s relationship is toxic, some level of abusive (mostly in the later seasons), and both of their biggest weaknesses. On some level, they’re both terrible for each other. But I think Dean is worse in the sense that he views Sam as his property but he makes Sam prove himself worthy of being so. It’s comparable to a parent who never tells their child that they’re proud of them because it’ll make them better. Sam constantly has to prove how much he loves Dean so that Dean can be assured he’s not going anywhere. This involves Sam making excuses for Dean and his poor behavior and Dean guilt-tripping Sam any time he gets the nerve to call him out on it. I long for the days of early spn where Dean would acknowledge he was wrong and give Sam a chance to get back at him. I also hate that Dean stopped standing up for Sam. Sure, he’ll protect Sam in an emergency but he doesn’t stop other people from insulting or devaluing him. Hell, sometimes he agrees with it. Sometimes it’s hard for me to believe this is the same man who sold his soul for Sam and begged him not to get mad.

10. Soulless Sam, yay or nay?

Nay. The story arc was fine enough but he’s creepy as hell and I could do without it.

12. Sam & Jack or Sam & Magda?

Contrary to my answer to #4, I’m going to say Sam & Magda because she deserved better and he deserved to help her. 

14. Sam storyline that should have never been dropped?

Him being a psychic and his demon blood addiction. He should’ve come to use his powers for good on his own and make Dean just deal with it. His psychic dreams should’ve been guiding him since season 8 and he should’ve been moving books around the MOL library with his mind. It also probably would’ve helped him with training Jack and definitely would’ve helped with Magda. Hell, he should be able to exorcise angels! And demon!Dean should’ve tried to feed him his blood and Sam should’ve had a hard time resisting.

16. Your take on Samjess?

I think Sam loved Jess but not in a fully romantic sense. He loved her more than any other woman in his life and he wanted to spend the rest of it with her, but he wasn’t willing to open up to her and share his full self. It’s cute but ultimately, it was always meant to be a fairytale.

18. wee!Sam headcanon?

20. What is the worst thing the writers did to Sam?

Everything to do with the Gadreel arc but mostly how they started having characters blame Sam for everything, including himself, and making sure he’s not allowed to defend himself without him being branded as the bad guy. Dean can call himself the dictator of their relationship and that’s fine but Sam can’t get a little huffy because of the trauma he’s endured without someone branding him as “angry”. It irritates me.

22. Favorite BAMF moment?

There are so so many but I think I’m gonna have to go with the time he shot God with the Equalizer gun, knowing full well it would hurt him too.

24. Is there anyone better than Sully?

Sam, of course! But seriously he’s the sweetest and he deserves much love and happiness.

26. Which character should have been more obsessed with/interested in Sam?

As much as it pains me to say it, Lucifer. Sam is his chosen vessel, the one human meant to help him with his plan to take over the world. I loved his fixation on Sam in season 5 and I wish that had remained a part of his character going forward. Hallucifer in season 7 was great too, even if it wasn’t technically real, but when they brought him back in later seasons he should’ve retained that obessession instead of having them push it onto God and other characters. I think it would’ve made his character more consistent and entertaining to watch.

28. Whump Sam, yay or nay?

Whump Sam is best Sam but also worst Sam. He looks so pretty covered in blood but it hurts me to know he’s in pain.... It’s a mixed bag.

30. Which character(s) deserve(s) to rot in hell for crimes against Sam?

All of them. Chuck, Lucifer, and Dean are the main ones but tbh almost every single character in this show screwed over Sam in some way and I’ll stand up for him since he won’t.

[songbirdstyles]

when i kissed the teacher.

summary: the one man you want more than anything is the one man you can’t have - your english professor.

warnings: teacher/student relationship, age gap (implied), f receiving oral, whole lotta smut, whole lotta feelings, whole lotta angst

word count: 14.7k (strap in)

song inspo.: when i kissed the teacher - abba

There was something special about Professor Styles.

You knew it, and so did every other girl who took his class. Your less-than-appropriate feelings about him were shared and that should’ve made you feel better about having them - at least you weren’t as obvious as some of the other girls who obviously took a fancy to your English professor. You applauded their efforts, showing up to classes in short skirts and low cut tops in the hopes that they’d catch his eyes drifting down to their chests while he passed out your essays -

But they hadn’t had any luck yet. He was a very respectable man, and more than his looks, that was what you appreciated about him. He was passionate about English, with a curriculum that appealed to you from the very first day and essay topics that forced you to look deeper into every book that the class read. He was one of the youngest professors on campus and you could tell something about that seemed to motivate him - to not be seen as a joke by the older professors, to be taken seriously by the students, some of which weren't much younger than him.

You decided, after your very first class with him, that, in any other universe, you’d have fallen in love with him. Or perhaps tried to jump his bones immediately.

Something of that sort.

As classes progressed you found yourself only liking him more. His classes were as difficult as you’d anticipated and you should have hated it, hated how much work and effort you had to put into every assignment but you absolutely adored it. You loved doing his essays, loved the novels he picked, loved the look on his face when he handed back your assignments with a 100% scribbled on top.

Most of your assignments, at least.

It didn’t really make sense to you, why your 1984 analysis should have gotten a 71%. Truthfully, you’d felt confident while writing it - it was such an easy analysis that you’d decided to go a little deeper, spending more time on it than was necessary, because you were sure he’d be tired of reading the same essay from everybody over and over again. So you gave him something different and maybe you should have stuck to analyzing the same themes that everyone else did.

“If any of you are confused about your grade,” Professor Styles announces to the class when everyone has gotten their essays back, time left in class slowly ticking down, “please feel free to see me after class. M’happy to discuss any concerns with you.”

Perhaps you’re being paranoid, but you could’ve sworn you felt his eyes land on you.

Class ends within a few minutes and you take your time packing your things back into your bag, waiting until the last kid has trickled from the lecture hall before swinging your bag over your shoulder and making your way down to his office. The door is cracked open and he’s barely sat down at his desk when you knock, flashing him a smile before pushing the door open a bit more.

You clear your throat before saying, “Hey, um, sorry to bother you - ” he interrupts you, telling you that it’s no bother at all “ - I’m just kind of confused on why I did badly on this essay.”

He nods, motioning for you to come in, and you step inside before shutting the door behind you. His office is small and cramped, with bookshelves lining the walls and a couch pressed into the corner. It’s a good vibe, you have to admit, although slightly messy. Perhaps you’d describe it as cozy, and it seems to fit him well. 

There’s an empty seat in front of his desk and you sit down in it awkwardly, placing your essay in front of him. His eyes skim the first page before he tells you, “You usually do really well on essays, and this was … a really easy one.”

“I know,” you tell him, leaning forward to try and read what he’s reading. “I just thought you might be looking for something more complex. It seemed too simple.” When you look up, he’s staring at you, and you feel heat flood to your cheeks. “I don’t - I don’t know.”

“It really is that simple, I promise,” Professor Styles informs you, and he pushes your essay back to you. “But you’re one of my best students, and I don’t want to let this bring down your grade. So, I have an idea for how you can make it up.”

Your mind runs through all the ways you’d want to make it up to him - most of them involve you being on your knees, and you cough into your elbow. He doesn’t know what you’re thinking, but it doesn’t stop you from feeling embarrassed about it. Fantasizing about your professor from across the lecture hall is one thing, but you’re barely a foot apart from him now and you’re almost nervous he can hear your thoughts.

“I’ll do anything.” And you don’t care about the ways he could interpret it. He drums his fingers on his desk, and when you look down at his hand, you notice with a start that his nails are painted - you’d never seen that before, but you’d also never been this close to him, you suppose. You wonder if he gets them done or if he does them himself - you can’t picture him going to a salon, and the thought of him painting his own nails could make you cum on its own.

You don’t realize he’s been speaking until you zone back in, and when you look back up at him, he furrows his brows at you. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, sorry.” You shake your head. “Just - um - could you repeat that?” His eyes linger on you for just a beat too long, and your face flushes again. “So distracted,” he murmurs in a faux chastising tone, and your stomach flips. “What I said was that I’m willing to put this essay in as a 97 - your average for the class - if you would help me with grading some things. Not too heavy, maybe an hour or two after class. I’ve been falling behind with a lot of my classes and I’ve been looking for help, anyway, so it works out for both of us.”

Jesus Christ. Spending an extra hour every day with Professor Styles sounds like a recipe for disaster, and yet it also sounds completely perfect at the same time, and you’re nodding before you can fully process the pros and cons of the situation. “That sounds great. I mean, really - thank you so much.”

“S’my pleasure,” he informs you, giving you a large, dimpled smile. “So, after class, tomorrow - when I’m caught up and don’t need your help anymore, you’re off the hook.” 

“Got it.” you stand, grabbing your essay and your bag and making your way towards the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

“Tomorrow,” he echoes, and the last thing you see before you shut the door is him, bringing his hand up to wave you off.

 ---

 When class concludes the next day you maintain the same habit as you did the day prior - watching every student trickle out the door before swinging your bag over your shoulders, grabbing the two cups of tea that you’d made before class and making your way down to the front of the lecture hall.

Professor Styles stands in the doorway of his office, holding the door open for you - you make your way inside with a tight, only slightly awkward smile. His eyes roll over the two cups that you’re holding and he asks, with a mildly amused inflection in his voice, “I guess you like tea quite a bit, then?”

You smile, looking down at your cups, and when he shuts the door you hold one out to him. “I do like it a lot, but this one’s for you. You know, to say thank you for giving me a freebie, and also because you look like the kind of guy who loves tea.”

He laughs and your grin widens at the noise - god, it’s like music to your ears, and you would do anything to keep hearing it from him. He reaches out to take the cup from you and brings it up to his mouth, taking a small sip - when he’s done his tongue pokes out to lap up a bit of tea from his lip, and you try to ignore how much the minuscule motion affects you. “This is perfect, Y/N. Just the way I like it. You’re an angel.” Your cheeks heat up, and then he says, “But you don’t need to thank me. I’m probably gaining more from this arrangement than you are, truthfully. People are starting to get annoyed with how I’ve been falling behind grading, which is where you come in.”

Yes, you’d heard the girls next to you whispering about how bothersome it was that they’d submitted three essays in the past month and had only gotten one back. Why does he give out so much work if he’s never gonna hand it back? 

It didn’t bother you too much.

“Well - alright, then. You’re welcome for helping you grade,” you tell him, pulling out the chair in front of his desk and settling in, dropping your bag beside you. You take another brief moment to glance around his office, as though expecting something to change, but it’s the same distinctly messy, cramped office that it had been yesterday. At some point, you should tell him that he ought to clean out his space, but that’s not what you’re here for - yet.

Professor Styles nods, making his way to the other side of his desk and plopping down in his spinning chair - it was quite nice, and made you wonder why the one you sat in seemed to be falling apart at the seams. But, then, you supposed teacher salary didn’t leave room for spectacular seating. “See, that’s the spirit.” All at once, the casual discussion between the pair of you died as he dug in the drawers of his desk for something - and then he plopped a large stack of papers on the table between you both. “This isn’t all of them - not even close. You’re very smart, so this should be pretty easy for you. Just read through them, add any notes, things they need to work on, and look at the rubric for a final grade.”

You nod, picking the first essay off the top of the pile and reaching for a pen from the cup on his desk - it’s a coffee mug with the Rumours by Fleetwood Mac album cover on it, and you take a moment to marvel at it briefly. “You like Fleetwood?” you question, voice seeming unnaturally loud in the sudden quiet of his office. “Didn’t strike me as that kind of guy.”

He looks up, then, from where he’d already begun scribbling bright red notes into the margin of someone’s essay. His eyes trail down to the mug full of pens, and then back up to meet yours. “You seem to make a lot of assumptions about the kind of guy I am. What’s that all about?”

“Nothing,” you assure him, your voice faux sweet and innocent, and he smiles slightly. “But I’m glad you have an appreciation for really good music. I was worried your music taste would be terrible, and then I’d have to live with the knowledge that Professor Styles exclusively listens to Justin Bieber.”

Your professor rolls his eyes, smile tugging at his lips. “You know,” he begins, “you don’t have to call me Professor Styles. Not outside of class, at least. It sounds weird when it’s just the pair of us here.”

“Oh.” You pause. “What should I call you, then?”

“Harry’s fine.”

Harry Styles. The name flows easily off the tongue as you test it out in a teasing tone, your eyes meeting his as you do, and your cheeks flush. You don’t know if it's commonplace for professors to allow random students to drop formalities and call them by their first names but you’ll accept it anyway - all you know is that, when you go home tonight, the thought of calling him Harry will fill your mind until you can’t stand it anymore. 

Harry as he buries his face between your thighs.

Harry as he pounds you into the mattress.

Harry as he bends you over his desk - this desk - the one you’re sitting at right now.

You cough into your arm and pick up your pen, pressing your thighs together to try and alleviate the throbbing that’s now affecting your body. You should’ve known not to let your mind wander because you’ve barely been here for 15 minutes and you already feel like you need to go rub one out in the bathroom. But you pause - take a sip of your tea, though it’s nearly gone from drinking it so much in class - and get to work grading Brianna Valeria’s essay on Death Comes to the Archbishop. The rubric sits on the desk next to you and you bury yourself in your work - if Harry notices the sudden silence that’s overtaken you, he doesn’t mention it.

For the rest of the hour, the pair of you work in silence. It’s comforting and surprisingly not awkward, and occasionally you ask his opinion on something one of his students wrote in their essays, but the playful banter you’d had before has dissipated. You’ve finished your tea and you suspect he has, as well, with the way he’s been feverishly drinking it.

“Oh,” he says, suddenly, and you glance up from where you’re in the middle of scribbling red notes into the margins of Alexander Simmons’ essay. “You should probably get going.”

One quick glance down at your phone proves that he’s right, and you rise from the extremely uncomfortable seat you’ve been perched in for the hour - you can practically hear your butt crying in relief. “Thank you so much for the tea,” Harry tells you, handing back his cup, and it’s empty, like you expected. “And - um. You don’t have to call me Harry if it makes you uncomfortable. Just thought it would be less formal, but if you don’t want to, it’s fine.”

Ah. He took your silence as you being uncomfortable calling him Harry. Well, it’s better than him knowing just how wet the sentiment made you, but you shake your head immediately. “No. No, I prefer calling you Harry. You’re right - it’s weird when it’s just us.”

He grins at you, then, standing up from his seat and stretching his arms over his head. “Well, I’ll see you tomorrow, then, Ms. Y/L/N.”

“You know, if I’m calling you Harry now, I think you should drop formalities too. Make it equal.”

“Okay … Y/N. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Bye, Harry,” you tell him, turning and walking out of his office with your phone in your pocket and two cups in your hands, blissfully unaware of your abandoned bag still sitting next to the terribly uncomfortable chair you’d been all too quick to leave.

 --

 It’s only when you’ve finished the trek back to your dorm, the sun beginning to lower down into the horizon, that the absence of your bag on your shoulder becomes prominent.

You can’t get into your building without your key and your key is in your bag and your bag is … back in Harry’s office, where you nearly made yourself cum just thinking about him. And the thought of having to go back across campus, back to his office, when he might not even be there, is not favorable, but you need your key and you need to bang out homework tonight, so with a soft groan you spin on your heel, walking away from the warm comfort of your building and making your way back to his.

As summer bled into fall and fall begins to bleed into winter, the weather has changed so drastically in just the past week or so that you tug your cardigan closer to your body, but the air that seeps through the holes in the crocheted sweater send goosebumps trailing up and down your body. The wind whips your face and brings tears to your eyes that run down your cheeks, and when you’re finally at the door of Harry’s building it’s a welcome surprise to walk inside, allowing the warmth to embrace you - even if the shock of the changing temperatures causes your eyes to water again.

His office is on the 2nd floor, so you pull open the door to the staircase and make your way up the two flights. Most professors have gone home for the day, classrooms dark as you speed past them to where you know his office is. 

His office is dark and your heart sinks at the sight - there are a few posters pinned to the small window, but you can see the lack of light clear as day. Your hand grasps the doorknob anyway, turning it without any hope that it would open - but then it was, giving you access to his dark office, and by the seat you’d occupied later you can make out your bag.

A breath of relief escapes your throat as you take a step inside, reaching down to swing it over your shoulder before turning to leave. And then you hear it - a small breath, an indicator of someone else in the room, and you whip around to look back around at the office.

Oh.

Harry sits in his chair, face buried in his arms, fast asleep. His hair is messy and in front of him sits the stack of essays you’d been working at early, hardly any smaller than when you’d left. It would nearly be an adorable sight - your professor, passed out at his desk - but it just seems concerning, and without thinking you’ve leaned over the desk, placing your hand on his shoulder and shaking him slightly.

“Professor?” your voice is soft, barely audible, and you speak louder when you say, “Harry?”

He doesn’t respond, so you say, louder still, “Harry?”

Then he stirs slightly under your touch, and you drop your hand from his shoulder as he lifts his head from where it had been resting on his arms, looking up at you with messy eyebrows and a thoroughly confused expression on his face. “What - what are you doing here?” Jesus. His voice is deep and raspy, sounding as though he’d been sleeping for ages instead of merely less than an hour, and if his present state wasn’t slightly concerning to you, you know that you’d feel the effects of his words between your thighs. But you pause, staring down at him, before asking, “What are you still doing here?”

“Just working on some grading.” He runs a hand through his hair, looking around the darkened office with an air of distinct confusion.

“With all due respect, Harry,” you tell him, adjusting your bag on your shoulder. “I think you’re burning yourself out. You should go home.”

He hesitates, and then questions, “Why are you here? I thought you left -”

“I forgot my bag,” and you hold it up to demonstrate it to him. “Are you going to go home? I’m serious - you need a break. And to sleep on a bed.”

“I’m fine,” Harry says, and he stands up from his chair. It moves back and hits the wall with a soft thud that goes unnoticed by both of you. “You should go home, too. I need to finish some stuff up. I’ll see you tomorrow, Y/N.”

To neither of your surprise, you don’t move from your spot standing before his desk. You cross your arms over your chest, digging your sneakered toe into the plush rug on the floor of his office - you hadn’t noticed it before, but it’s pale blue and bright against the mahogany floors. The brief silence between you two, daring either of you to speak, fills the confined space and all you can hear is the ticking of the clock behind you, and finally you say, “You’re not going to get anything done when you’re exhausted. I mean, you fell asleep on the essays. How are you going to explain why there’s drool on their assignments?”

He gives you a tight lipped smile in response, looking down at the essay he’d been working on as if to check that no saliva had landed on the words. “You caught me at a bad time. I don’t usually fall asleep on top of student essays, I promise - but you should be heading out now. It’s getting dark.”

It is getting dark, he’s right - the window behind his desk shows the darkness that newly falls over the campus. And the thought of walking home in the dark scares you just a bit, but you’ll suck it up if it gets him to go home too. “Harry.”

“Y/N.”

“I’ll help you grade tomorrow. But you’re fucking yourself here -”

(Harry laughs at your choice of words internally, but it comes out as a small release of air and a soft grin.)

“ - so come on. Walk out with me so I can make sure you’re actually going home.”

Perhaps he’s realized he’s fighting a losing battle here, because finally he looks back down at the stack of ungraded essays with a small sigh and then says, “Fine.”

“Great.” Your grin widens across your face, and for a moment you make to hold out your hand to him, to drag him along like you would to any of your friends - but the second your hand raises you drop it down to your side, and heat burns your cheeks. He’s not one of your other friends, you tell yourself, stepping out of his office, hearing him walk behind you. And you can’t hold his hand, even as a joke.

“Where’s your dorm?” Harry asks you as he locks the door to his office and jiggles the handle to check it, and you jump at the chance to forget about what happened - you don’t want to dwell on it. “Is it far?”

“Across campus.” You raise your arm and point in the distinct direction of where your building is. “Closer to the cafeteria, I guess.”

“Christ, you have a trek, then, don’t you?”

“Yeah.” The pair of you make your way to the staircase, and from the corner of the eye you can see his head turning left and right down the hallway, as if scanning to see if there’s anyone coming - you can imagine it wouldn’t be great for him to be seen with a student long after classes ended. “I had to haul ass there and back to get my bag.”

He doesn’t respond for a moment, not until you’ve left the warm building and made your way into the cold air, the sun now having retreated for the night, and immediately you wrap your sweater tighter around yourself to try and provide some semblance of warmth. Harry glances down at you with a bemused smile, and you hoist your bag further up your shoulder.

“Well,” you sigh, breath coming out in white puffs. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then. Don’t burn yourself out, professor. And get a good night’s rest.”

Harry rolls his eyes. “Shouldn’t I be telling you that?”

“Maybe.” You grin, feeling goosebumps sprout on your skin, and you shiver before turning in the direction of your dorm - the thought of walking home in the dark and cold doesn’t sound too great, but you’ve become good at dealing with it. “Goodnight, Harry.”

He doesn’t respond, and you’ve taken a few steps away when he calls out, “D’you want a ride?”

What?

“Y’know, like a ride back to your dorm. I can drop you off in the back - it’s just really cold and I’m sure you don’t want to walk so far in the dark.”

You turn back around to look at him, his cheeks a light shade of pink - whether from the cold or his offer, you can’t tell. And you’d love to jump in his car, accept his offer without a shadow of hesitation, but - “Is that allowed?”

Harry shrugs, and you know that’s code for absolutely not. “No one has to find out.”

(Your stomach drops, then.)

“Sure.” You take a few steps back towards him, and he spins on his heel, leading you to his car, and you walk in silence until you reach it. By the time you’re both safely in his car - his head turning every so often to check if there was anyone watching the pair of you - you’re shivering desperately, and you know you would have been positively miserable walking back to your dorm in these temperatures. “Thank you so much, Harry.”

“S’no problem, really.” His hand goes behind your seat as he turns to look behind him, and you hate the way the simple action makes you feel. “I’d rather know you get home safe than have you walk so far in the dark. Pretty girl like you, can never be too careful.”

You pause, cheek pressed against the cold window, and turn to look at him with a small smile. “Ooh, I’m a pretty girl now?”

“Wasn’t the point, Y/N,” Harry mutters, dropping his hand onto the center console, and if it were anyone else driving you like this, you’d rest your hand on top of his, intertwining your fingers and pressing your palms together. But he’s your professor, as much as you’re beginning to wish he weren’t, so you slide your hands beneath your thighs. “Which building, again?”

“McKinley,” you respond, voice barely louder than the sound of the heat blasting into his car. 

His car smells like eucalyptus and mint, and it’s surprisingly clean compared to his office - you wonder if his house is messy or clean, or a balanced mix, because you can’t quite catch a vibe for whether he’s organized or not. But, no - you’ll never see his house, surely. You can’t. 

“I used to date a girl who lived at McKinley,” he tells you, and you exhale slowly. You can tell he’s merely trying to make conversation but the sentiment isn’t making your internal conflicts any easier to manage. “Real nice dorms.”

“They’re alright.” In fact, you’ve been at university for 3 years and resided in 3 different dormitories and they’re your least favourite, with furniture that’s too big for rooms that are too small and bathrooms that can hardly fit more than 5 people, but you don’t tell him that. “Not the greatest.”

“S’what she told me, too,” Harry says, and you smile down at your lap, but you can’t find anything else to respond to that, so you take to gazing out the window.

Within a few seconds he’s slowing down, and you can recognize the back entrance to your building. You reach down and pick your bag off the ground, digging through it to find your key.

When you have it clutched in your hand, you unbuckle your seatbelt and turn to look at him - to your surprise his eyes are already on you, and you swallow thickly. “Um - thanks for driving me.”

“Don’t worry about it.” 

You hesitate a moment before turning and swinging open the car door. You hop out and, just before you can shut it, he says, “Y/N.” And when you duck your head back into his car, raising your eyebrows, he adds, “Please don’t tell anyone I drove you home. You’re right - s’not allowed.”

“Alright.” Then, before you can help yourself, you flash him a wide grin and say, “Thanks for letting me be the exception, then.”

With that, you shut the door of his car, bounding up to the door of your building, and you swear you can feel his gaze remaining on you before his car drives off, and when you turn back around, it’s gone.

(In the back of your mind, you’re entirely too aware of the fact that merely sitting in his car crossed some sort of line that you didn’t know existed until now, but you don’t really know how far past it you are - not yet.)

 --

 “I have a question.”

You look up from the rubric you’d been working at - the student whose essay you’re grading hadn’t done too well on it, but you were trying to give them the most points you could, anyway. Harry’s looking down at his essay like he hadn’t spoken, but when he feels your gaze on him, he continues. “Why did you care so much? Yesterday. Me grading more s’less work for you to do. I feel like you should be loving that shit.”

It’s a reasonable question but, for a moment, you struggle thinking of how to answer it without exposing yourself to him. Finally, you give him a grin and say, “Well, if you were sleep deprived, it would make you mean.” He chuckles softly, and you can tell that’s not the answer he wanted, and it couldn’t have been further from the truth. So you add, “I guess I’m used to being the mom friend. Making sure all of my friends get a good night’s sleep and whatever.”

Harry pauses. “So we’re friends, then.”

You shrug, trying to stop the smile from peeking through onto your face. Being friends with Harry sounds positively dreamy and if it could segue into something else - whichitcan’t - you’d be the happiest girl alive.

You nod. “Yeah, aren’t we.” But it isn’t a question, and you can see the way his eyes twinkle at your response.

After a moment, you shift in your entirely entirely entirely too bloody uncomfortable chair, the wood making your butt ache. “I have a question, now.”

“Yeah?”

“Why’d you pick the most uncomfortable chair you possibly could for your guests to sit in?”

“Gets ‘em out of my office quicker.” Harry glances up and meets your glare with a laugh. “But I don’t want you to leave, so you can move to the couch, if you’d like.”

You hop out of the chair without a second’s hesitation, clutching your essay and your pen, flopping down on the couch and feeling your body weight sink into it. God, it’s so soft and your body relaxes into it, the relief of not being confined to the small, wooden chair so magnificent you could scream. Harry watches you with an amused grin, and says, “I feel like you’re being just a bit dramatic here.”

“Me? Dramatic? Never.” You sprawl yourself across the couch, head atop of the armrest, staring up at the white ceiling tiles above you. “I’m telling you, Harry, that chair is terrible. You should burn it.”

“So dramatic.”

You roll your eyes, sitting up slightly so you can rest your paper on your lap and still manage to scrawl semi-legible notes on this person’s piss poor essay. You wonder, briefly, if this is how Harry felt when he’d graded your 1984 essay, but - well - doesn’t matter now. And you’d fail that essay a thousand times over to get to this point, a point of companionship with your professor that you’re not sure any other student has felt with him before. At least, none that he’s told you about. It makes you feel special, and spectacular, and also the tiniest bit confused.

Why are you so special?

Maybe he’s lonely, or he’s merely entertaining your presence because you’re helping him grade, but you swear you can feel something more hidden within the lines of your relationship.

It doesn’t really matter, though, even if it is just a tad confusing.

“You should get going,” Harry tells you after another 15 minutes of you working at grading the essay. “You’ve been here for nearly two hours, bloody hell, wasn’t watching the time at all.”

“I don’t mind,” you say, though, in truth, you do have quite a bit of homework to work on later. “Don’t really have anything else to do.”

You sit up anyway, swinging your legs over the edge of the couch and stretching your arms above your head. Tiredness is beginning to affect you but you try not to let it.

“Well, in any case, you should be heading out now.” Harry nods his head towards the window behind him, the blinds pulled up so you can see the sun, nearly completely sunk below the horizon, the sky fading from reds and oranges to a dark shade of blue.

“What about you, professor?”

“What about me?” “You’re going home now too - right?”

He looks at you with a faux annoyed glare, but he can’t help the amusement from seeping through his features, and finally he breaks your stare with an exhale of breath. “I don’t think I’ll ever win this against you, will I?”

And you shake your head in response. “Never. So let’s go. Get your things.”

You take the next five minutes to gather all your stuff - resting the essay on top of his desk, sliding your phone and water bottle into your backpack, and zipping your bag shut - as Harry grabs his computer bag and his key. The two of you move surprisingly in sync with each other, sorting all of your stuff from around his small office, before making your way outside with him locking the door behind him.

It’s nearly completely dark, even colder than it had been the day prior. You reach behind you and pull the hood of your sweatshirt over your hair, protecting your ears, at least, from the chill.

You turn and face him, giving him a wide smile. The air is silent around you, surprisingly empty though the bitterness of the cold must be a contributing factor to that. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Professor. Make sure you get a good night’s rest -”

“Don’t want a ride?”

Your grin widens, and his eyes sparkle, even in the darkness, at your expression. “Well, of course I do, but it’s rude to invite myself into your car.”

“You’re not inviting yourself - I’m inviting you. Or, rather, demanding you. C’mon.”

Harry walks fast and you have to speed up your pace to keep up with him, though you suspect that has something to do with wanting to be free of any wandering eyes as quickly as possible. You recognize his car in the parking lot and bound ahead of him, standing by the passenger side door and wrapping your arms around yourself to try and warm yourself up, and for a moment his pace slows as he stares and looks at you. Standing by his car, holding an incredibly oversized hoodie tight to your body, a wide smile gracing your face.

“Staring is rude, professor,” you inform him as he shakes his head, unlocking his car and climbing into the driver’s seat. “Didn’t your mother ever tell you that?”

Your lilt is teasing but you can tell it makes him slightly defensive either way.

“S’hard not to sometimes,” Harry tells you, and you giggle softly.

“So first, I’m a pretty girl, and now I’m hard not to stare at?” You drop your head back against the headrest, blowing air softly out of your mouth as you reach to buckle your seatbelt. “Keep this up, Harry, and my ego’s gonna be too big to even fit in your car.”

Harry laughs at that, resting his hand on your seat to back out of his parking spot. The radio softly plays some pop song that had been overtaking the charts recently, and you hum softly to it before turning your head to look at him. You examine his side profile - perfect, like every other angle of him - as he pulls out of the parking lot, making a left out of it.

He turns to see you watching him, and you watch redness bloom over his cheeks. “Staring is rude, Y/N.”

You smile, about to parrot his previous words back at him - it’s hard not to - but you bite your tongue, gazing at the road in front of you. A light drizzle is beginning to fall, a barely audible pitterpatter on the windshield, and that’s the only noise, for a moment - that and the radio playing, like a thought in the back of your mind.

The drive to your dorm seems to be taking longer than it had been yesterday and you can’t imagine why, but you appreciate just sitting in the car with him. Even if you’re not saying much, listening to his even breathing calms you.

You want to break the silence, though it’s comfortable rather than awkward. You like talking to him, like hearing everything he has to say, but you have no idea what you can possibly tell him that wouldn’t seem forced and awkward. So you sit, curling your legs up to your chest as you stare at the streets, and entirely too soon, the back of the McKinley building becomes apparent.

You want to stay in his car forever. Want to stay with him forever.

“Thanks for the ride,” you tell him, your voice sounding uncomfortably loud in the soft car. He nods in response, but for a moment neither of you move. You can’t bring yourself to leave yet, even if you know you have to, that he might have someone waiting for him at home.

“Y/N.” You turn and look at him, your eyes meeting his with your brows furrowed. “Uh - if you ever want a ride home, or to class, you can just let me know. Text me.”

“I don’t have your number.”

Harry’s cheeks are bright pink and there’s too much tension in the car, so thick you feel like you could cut it with a knife, and you lean down, unzipping your bag and pulling your phone out.

He takes it from you once you unlock it, going into your contacts and you watch as he types his phone number in, adding the contact name as Harry S. and you think you’ll be changing that later. He leaves the contact photo blank, which you expected - if anyone saw the name Harry S. in your phone, the contact photo would give it away.

He hands your phone back to you when he’s done, and your fingers graze his when you take it. “Just text me, then. If you need a ride.”

“Alright.” you give him a smile, unbuckling your seatbelt and pushing open the car door. “Thank you, Harry. Really.”

“My pleasure,” he says, and you grab your bag, hooking your arm underneath the strap and racing up to the back entrance of your building. It’s only when you get inside, the door firmly shut behind you, that you turn around again, and his car is gone.

 --

 10:52 PM

Y/N: hey professor...it’s y/n. just wanna make sure u have my number saved in case of emergencies

Harry S.: How is it you can have the highest grade of any student in my class and use improper grammar while texting?

Y/N: it’s a talent i guess

Y/N: texting like you’re writing an essay makes ppl v uncomfortable, and i speak from personal experience

Harry S.: So you’re uncomfortable right now, then?

Y/N: nooo, ur different

Harry S.: To quote this girl I know, ‘thanks for letting me be the exception, then.’

Y/N: how did u remember that? that makes me uncomfortable

Harry S.: Haha.

Harry S.: You should be sleeping right now. Students need their full 8 hours, don’t they?

Y/N: so do professors, as i keep telling u, but…

Y/N: i had hw to do, also had to make mac n cheese for dinner

Harry S.: You can do your homework in my office, you know. And then you can probably make it to the refectory for dinner.

Y/N: the food at the refectory sucks

Harry S.: Yeah, you’re right.

Harry S.: But I do feel bad that staying to help me grade made you have to stay up until 11 doing homework.

Y/N: well honestly i’d rather be sitting in ur office talking to u than in my dorm doing american lit work

Harry S.: Why’s that?

Y/N: ig i like hanging out with u

Y/N: u should feel honored btw

Harry S.: Believe me, I do. And now you should get to bed so you’re not grumpy tomorrow morning.

Y/N: ig i deserved that… and i’ll only go to bed if u do too

Harry S.: I will.

Y/N: promise??

Harry S.: I promise.

Harry S.: Goodnight.

Y/N: goodnight, professor

 --

 After a week, your arrangement has changed slightly.

Every day, you spend just a bit more time in his office. Then he drives you home, in comfortable silence, and from the minute you step into your dorm, you’re fishing your phone out of your bag to text him. Every night that you lie awake, texting him until you physically can’t keep your eyes open, the line that you’ve been dipping your toe across falls back even more.

The stack of assignments that need to be graded are beginning to dwindle, and you hate it. Hate to see the pile of ungraded work getting smaller and smaller, because when it’s gone, you probably won’t step foot in his office again.

Truthfully, and as embarrassing as it may be, Harry has become one of your closest friends at school. He’s funny and nice, and he brought you hot chocolate with powder left unmixed at the bottom after you mentioned that’s how you used to like it when you were younger, and he plays music on his phone at a low volume while you work on grading. 

Of course, as your friendship with Harry grows, so does the burning feelings for him that reside in the pit of your stomach day after day. And you know he doesn’t feel the same - he can’t - and maybe that’s painful for you, only slightly, but you’ve become rather talented at hiding those emotions. He can’t know that, everytime he laughs at one of your jokes, your heart swells - and everytime he reads a sentence from one of the essays out loud, using a mocking, deep voice, it makes your stomach flip.

You don’t know if you’ve ever felt so passionately about anyone, and that’s scary. Scary to think that the one man you want more than anyone else is the only person you can’t have.

“Y/N,” he says, and when you look up at him from your spot sprawled on the couch, he’s nibbling at the tip of his pen. “D’you think this makes sense?”

And he reads you a few lines written by one of his students - a name you recognize from being in your class, you think, but you’ve been paying attention less and less to other students during lectures. All you focus on is Harry, his booming voice projecting through the hall as he talks about the stories you’re reading, and every so often his eyes meet yours and the smile that spreads across his face could bring tears to your eyes, if you let it.

“Um - I guess. It’s worded kind of strangely, don’t you think? But I’d cut them some slack on it.” Harry nods and scribbles something in the margins of Nathalie Carron’s essay before flipping the page. “Can I put in a song request?”

He nods, then, picking up his phone from where it sits on his desk. The Chain plays softly, not too loud to interrupt your train of thought, but not too soft that you can’t hear it. “‘Course.”

“Heroes by David Bowie.” You glance back up at him, dropping Hannah Joseph’s essay on your stomach. “You like Bowie, right?”

“Who doesn’t, is the real question.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” You grin, glancing up at the white tiled ceiling as the song fills the hair, replacing Fleetwood. “You know, we should make a playlist for grading.”

Harry laughs. “A playlist of just Fleetwood and a dash of Bowie?”

“No, no. It can have other stuff, too. I mean, we know what we like.”

“Alright, alright.” He picks up his phone again, and you see his thumbs moving feverishly on the screen. “Y’know what, I’ll make it right now and show it to you for approval.”

“Make it good.” You pause, picking your essay up again. “No Justin Bieber.”

He snorts, and you relish in the noise.

The next ten minutes passes in mainly silence - when Heroes ends, Fleetwood continues, playing Secondhand News, and you hum to the tune. Harry’s ringer is on and you can hear it, the sound of the keyboard on his phone as he searches up song titles, and you rest the essay back on your stomach, writing messy notes with the pen you snatched from the mug on his desk again.

You sit up, suddenly, leaning over to rest Hannah’s fully graded essay on his desk, and instead of reaching for a new one to work on, you push yourself to your knees, resting your palms on his desk and attempting to lean over and peek at the playlist. But he anticipates that - he knows you’re nosy - and tilts his phone towards him, intercepting your attempts to eavesdrop.

“Don’t be impatient,” he murmurs, a smile tugging across his lips as he scrolls through something. “I’m almost done.”

You hum in response, dropping back down onto the couch, stretching your entire body across it, head resting on the armrest. The two of you settle back into a comfortable silence - he’s paused the music, by now - lasting only a moment or two before he stands up from his insanely comfortable chair, maneuvering his way around to the couch where you’re lying. He crouches down next to you, handing you his phone, opened to a Spotify playlist, and you greedily snatch the device from him, flicking through the songs.

Your eyes scan every song, absorbing every song title.

I Walk The Line by Johnny Cash - My Eyes Adored You by the Four Seasons - Your Song by Elton John?

Love songs. Every single one of them.

You push yourself up, sitting leaning against the armrest, as your eyes fall on the last song of the playlist - When I Kissed The Teacher by Abba. You lower his phone to your lap, looking at him with a slightly confused smile adorning your face.

He watches you intently, your heads a mere few inches apart, then reaches down to grab his phone off your lap, and you laugh lightly before saying, “it’s a lot of love songs.”

“They reminded me of you,” he tells you, voice quiet, testing the waters.

“They - they did?” It doesn’t make sense to you - doesn’t make sense that 45 love songs should bring you to the forefront of his mind, that every single time he hears Fooled Around And Fell In Love he should think of you. 

They make you think of him, though. 

And without thinking - of what you’re doing or of the consequences - you lean in, closing the short distance between your faces, pressing your lips against his so softly that it feels like it’s a mere breath on your mouth.

Harry pulls back, lips barely a centimeter from yours, exhaling softly. “We shouldn’t.”

You hum in agreement, already leaning back in. “No, we really shouldn’t.”

Your lips meet again and his hand goes to your face, cupping your jaw, and when he deepens the kiss you whimper into his mouth, bringing both of your hands to the back of his head. Your fingers bury themselves in his curls, tugging on the chocolate brown strands, and he groans softly into your mouth.

It’s everything you’d imagined and more, as the hand not on your cheek drops down to your waist, pulling your body closer to his. The angle is awkward - you sitting on the couch and him kneeling before it - so you unattach your lips, much to your dismay, and swing your legs around the edge of the couch so he’s situated between them. Harry’s eyes are wide, his hair mussed up, and you lean back in without a moment’s hesitation to resume the kiss. His tongue brushes against yours, and he tastes like mint tea and fucking heaven.

Both of his hands go down to your waist, tugging you to the very edge of the couch so your bodies are as close as they can be, and yours go to the back of his neck, dipping underneath the collar of his button down shirt to scratch at his back. It feels muscular, more toned than you were expecting, and feeling the skin underneath your nails makes you moan into his mouth.

“Fuck -” you groan softly as he moves his lips down your chin and to your jaw, nibbling softly at your skin, as if experimenting to see what you like - your reaction prompts him to move further down, licking a stripe down your neck and to the base of your collarbone. One of his hands - very large hands - slide up to cup one of your breasts, squeezing the mound of flesh through your tight shirt. “Fuck, that feels good.”

Harry hums against your collarbone, pressing open mouthed kisses across your skin. Your nails dragging down his back causes him to bite down gently to stifle the moan rising from his throat, but you hear it and Goditspursyouonsofuckingmuch. “God, Y/N -”

His praise is cut short by the sound of three swift knocks on the door - he pulls back from you, nearly falling back on his ass with the speed at which he stands, and your eyes flash to the door. Your heart is pounding desperately in your chest - are the doors soundproof? Did someone outside hear you? The thought makes you sick to your stomach, and your eyes meet Harry’s to find the same worry in his orbs.

Within moments he’s back behind his desk, running a hand through his hair to try and smooth it out, and you’ve reached to grab Hannah Joseph’s essay off his desk just as he calls, “come in!” in a voice that’s far too cheery for the panic that had just overtaken the both of you.

The door opens and from the corner of your eye you can recognize the girl who walks in - she lives across the hall from you, and her name is … Anna or Emma or something similar. She’s nice, and you should remember her name, but your brain is so scrambled that you can’t think of it.

Harry kissing you. Harry making you a playlist. Harry’s hands on your waist, pulling your body into his.

It’s everything you’ve dreamt of since the beginning of the semester, feeling his touch on you. And when you close your eyes, you try to imagine what would have happened if nobody knocked on the door, and it sends a shiver down your spine that doesn’t go unnoticed by Harry, sitting at his desk as he looks over Anna-or-Emma’s essay.

You can’t be here. You shouldn’t be here. The girl (who, now that you think of it, may be named Alana) is asking Harry a million bogus questions about the essay requirements he’d just given out and her shirt is so low cut that you’re surprised her boobs haven’t fallen out. Whether that was intentional or not isn’t something you dwell on, but something about sitting on the couch, trying to steady your breathing while your clit throbs violently feels wrong.

“I’m gonna go, professor,” you say, interrupting her question, and she looks at you like you just told her you’re going to give her a million dollars. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Bye, Y/N,” Harry calls as you grab your bag and shut the door behind you. His voice sounds pained, almost, as though he doesn’t want you to leave him alone with a girl whose only goal is clearly to fuck his brains out. You practically run down the hall, which isn’t close to being as empty as it usually is when you and Harry leave at the end of the day. 

Your shirt is tight and short sleeved and you can picture your jacket, up in his office, thrown over the back of the couch. You’d been in such a rush to leave that you’d left it, and you’re beginning to truly feel the consequences of it as the cold corners you, attacking your skin, and you could go back up to his office and get it but you just want to go home. The sun is setting, and it’s earlier than when you usually leave.

The walk home is decidedly miserable, the wind sending tears streaking down your cheeks, and your mind is practically going into overdrive. Jesus Christ. You kissed your professor, and he kissed you back. And then you left, like a fucking idiot. He probably feels terrible - feels like he violated you, or ruined his career. But he hadn’t done anything wrong, not really. If you were more respectable you’d go back to his building and apologize for running out, wrap your arms around him and kiss him like you fucking mean it, but all you do is scan your card to get into McKinley and walk down the hall to your dorm.

Your roommate is out - at her boyfriend’s, as per usual, but you appreciate it. Truth be told, you haven’t seen her much since the first few weeks of the semester, but she seemed nice enough. You drop your bag onto your bed and collapse on top of the covers, gazing up at the ceiling.

You bring your hand up to your mouth, brushing your fingertips over your lips with the same feather light touch that the first press of Harry’s lips to yours had felt like. You can still feel it - feel him - if you close your eyes, his hands grasping your hips and his lips trailing down your collarbone.

Slowly, you press your palm to your stomach, trailing it down your torso until you reach the button of your jeans. You undo it with shaky fingers and push them lower down, beneath the hem of your cotton thong, and the first brush of your fingertips against your clit sends a shiver down your spine and a whine falling off your lips.

Harry’s hand on your chest, squeezing your breast through your shirt as he kisses down your neck - oh my god, licking down your neck, biting your skin, his eyes are so wide, his hair is messy from where you grabbed it, and you hadn’t been interrupted he would’ve climbed on top of you, pressing you into the couch, tugging your jeans down your thighs and -

Maybe he would’ve done what you’re doing now, sliding his digits into your heat, fingers longer than yours, hitting every spot that you need him to. Or maybe he would’ve slid down your body, lifting your shirt to suck a deep purple mark into your chest, before burying his face in your cunt -

A very loud moan falls from your lips as you push a finger inside of yourself, curling them immediately to hit the spot inside of you that makes your tummy flip.

But maybe - just maybe - Harry wouldn’t have bothered with that. Would’ve watched, breathing so heavy as you unbuckled his belt and unbuttoned his nice dress pants to wrap your hand around his cock, throwing his head back and moaning as you swiped your thumb over the tip of him.

You’re so close so fast you can practically taste the orgasm creeping up on you, your hips bucking up to meet where your fingers are feverishly rubbing circles on your clit.

And he would’ve slid into you, and he’s so big that he’s stretching you out more than any of your fingers or the guy you’ve been with, and he’d grab your chin and force your head up and kiss you so fucking hard, his hips flush against yours -

With a strangled cry, you curl your fingers once more and then you’re cumming, release coating your fingers as your hips roll into your hand. All you can think about is him and what could have happened, and the fact that you may have ruined the start of something magnificent, but God if the orgasm wasn’t good.

You pull your hand out of your panties, wiping your dripping fingers on the denim of your jeans. For a moment, you merely stare back up at the ceiling, focusing on steadying your breathing, and then you stand up, kicking your jeans off your legs and tossing them onto your dresser. You have a pair of plaid pajama pants crumbled in a pile at the bottom of your bed from the morning, and you pull them over your legs with a sigh. Perhaps it’s not the height of cleanliness, but they’re soft and comfortable, and you lie back down on your bed once they’re on.

After nearly an hour, you still haven’t done anything but sit and do nothing, occasionally flicking through your phone. You wish you could fall asleep but your brain is working far too fast to even think about resting, and -

The sound of your phone getting a notification startles you, and you groan, grabbing your phone to look at whoever disturbed your panic.

Harry S.: I’m behind your building. I have your jacket.

He’s here? Jesus Christ, you just came over him and damn near cried over him and now you have to see him.

Perfect.

Your heart skips a beat, and you jump up without a second thought. You look an absolute fool, stuffing your feet into the first pair of shoes you can find - a pair of slip on Vans that are so dirty they can barely constitute as white - before you’re running out the door, your phone tucked in the waistband of your pants, heading down the hall and out the back entrance where Harry’s black car sits, waiting.

You walk up to his car, pathetically out of breath, and lower your head so you can see him through the window as he rolls it down.

“Hi.” Your tone is quiet, and you clear your throat. “Um, I’m sorry about running off like that. I just got overwhelmed and that girl showing up made me - um - nervous.”

“It’s fine,” Harry says, though he’s very pointedly not making eye contact. “M’sorry if I crossed a line. I shouldn’t have kissed you like that, or -”

“No, I kissed you first -”

“But I’m your professor.” He says the word with an odd inflection, nearly pained. “I shouldn’t have let it escalate. I’m sorry.”

You dig the toe of your shoe into the road, looking down at the passenger seat where your jacket sits, waiting. The tension is palpable and you swallow thickly, then grab the car handle, forcing the door open so you can grab your jacket. You wrap the fabric around your shoulders - the seat heaters made it warm and you could nearly cry at the way it embraces you.

Harry watches you - you can see him from the corner of your eye - and then he looks down at your body, your shirt and your pajama pants with no pockets, and asks, “D’you have your key to go back in your dorm? S’just, you don’t have any pockets … I can’t see it.”

Shit. No, you don’t. You hadn’t thought about that when you were running out to see him. Perhaps he can decide the answer from the way your face drops, because he exhales with a small smile, barely perceptible, and nods his head. “Get in.”

You grab the door handle again, pulling the door open and climbing inside. The seat is toasty and warm and the car is toasty and warm and altogether you feel like both of those adjectives combined. The radio plays softly - or maybe it’s his phone, hooked up to the aux cord, because Maybe I’m Amazed by Paul McCartney is a song you recognize reading on the playlist he’d made.  You slam the door shut and wrap your arms around yourself, holding your jacket closer to your body, before turning your head to glance at him. He still hasn’t started driving, merely gazing at you, and you feel your skin heat under his eyes. “Where are we going, professor?” It’s a stupid question, because you aren’t going anywhere yet, and he doesn’t look like he plans to start driving anytime soon.

“I’ll take you back to my apartment.” HIs eyes haven’t left yours, and your stomach turns. “How does that sound?”

You exhale softly. “Sounds perfect,” and then you’re leaning in, pressing your cold palms to the side of his cheeks and bringing his face into yours.

Your lips meet and it’s more desperate than it was in his office - teeth clashing and your tongues brushing against each other, as if he’s trying to devour you. His hand rests atop of yours, dwarfing you pathetically, before dragging his fingertips down your arm and up to your shoulder, fingers dipping beneath the sleeve of your shirt.

Where you’re cold from the air outside, Harry is so warm and toasty, his breath hot against your face when you pull away briefly. He presses his forehead to yours and then leans up, pressing a kiss to the tip of your nose and smirking at the whimper you let out.

“Wait,” he tells you, voice low and quiet, and you nod slowly. “When we get to my apartment - but not now.”

You nod feverishly and sit back in your seat obediently, desperate for him to finally start driving. His hand rests on top of the center console and you stare at it for a moment - you can do it, do what you’ve wanted to do every single time he’s driven you home - and you place your palm overtop of his. He turns it over so your palms are pressed together, fingers intertwining, and you’re sure he can hear your heartbeat with how loudly it’s beating in your chest.

The line that you’ve crossed is so far behind you that it’s a mere dot in the distance. 

The car ride to his apartment is short - only 2 full songs play during it, and you recognize My Girl and I Just Died In Your Arms Tonight from the playlist. Truth be told, it feels as though you’d been in the car for hours and hours, his thumb rubbing circles into the back of your hand. You want nothing more than to crawl across the center console and straddle him, kiss him until you’re both breathless and go as far as you’d fantasized about but you have to wait.

 --

 Harry’s unlocking the door of his apartment entirely too slow for your liking. It’s as though he’s trying to tease you, make you antsy, when all you want is for him to press you against the wall and kiss you silly. 

He lives in a large brick apartment building - one of the newer ones, you know - in an apartment on the third floor. You’ve passed his building so many times driving through town and you never even knew it - didn’t know the man who lived there was someone you’d be so desperate for.

“Come on,” he whispers, though there’s no real reason for the two of you to be quiet - perhaps it just fits the mood. Harry’s hand wraps around your wrist as he tugs you into the now-open door of his apartment, flicking on the light switch residing beside the door. 

As light floods the apartment you’re somehow both surprised and also not at all. It’s surprisingly tidy, resembling more of his car than his office, and - to your relief - it’s quite obvious he’s the only one who lives here. You slip out of your Vans and take a moment to look around. A cat sits on top of the couch (her name is Marie, named after Aristocats, you learned from class) and you can’t stop yourself from gravitating towards her, using two fingers to stroke down her back as you peek around the apartment.

Yes, it is quite clean, and surprisingly colorful - there’s a striped rug and red couches and your eyes fly a bookshelf filled with picture frames against the wall. One is him with four other guys, arms wrapped around each other - one of him and Marie - one of him, significantly younger, hugging a girl who looks extremely similar to him.

“Is this your sister?” you ask, unaware of where he is in the apartment but trusting he hasn’t strayed too far from you.

“Yeah,” he responds, and you jump slightly. Harry stands just behind you, and when you turn to face him he’s fighting back a grin. “So nosy, aren’t you?”

You raise your arms to wrap around his neck, pulling his head down to yours as his hands gravitate down towards your lower back where your shirt rises just a couple inches from your pants, exposing a strip of skin, and his touch sends a shiver down your spine. “I guess I am nosy. Can’t help it.”

Harry leans down, then, pressing a kiss to your forehead and down the bridge of your nose before landing on your lips - you whine into his mouth, pushing yourself onto your toes to try and deepen it, swiping your tongue into his mouth. It’s so different than before - heavier, deeper, and you can’t get enough of it.

“Please,” you whimper against his lips as his hands creep farther down your back, landing on the globes of your ass through your soft pajama pants. “I need you.”

“Oh, yeah?” You can hear a sense of cockiness working its way into his voice and you groan softly as he pulls away from you, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “What do you need, baby? Tell me.”

You need everything. You need everything he can possibly give you and more - you need wish fulfillment of everything you’ve dreamt of since the start of the semester and that includes every single goddamn appendage on his body put to use somehow.

But you can’t possibly begin to tell him that, not yet. His fingers are already trailing down to the waistband of your pants, tugging at the tie that holds them up when you breathe, “Your mouth. Please, I need - I need your mouth.”

It’s not enough for him, you can tell, as he leans down to press a kiss to the side of your throat, sucking softly. “M’using my mouth.”

“H - Harry …”

“Where d’you want my mouth?”

You curse beneath your breath, and he pulls his head back to raise his eyebrows at the sound. You bury your hand in his hair, tugging lightly on his curls, before squeezing your eyes shut and muttering, “Want your mouth … down there.”

As much as you want it - and Godyouwantitsofuckingmuch - it makes it no less awkward to say it out loud.

“Down where, baby?” Harry asks, voice teasing and so fucking smug. “Down here?” His hand sprawls across your stomach, pressing down on your abdomen and you moan softly. “No … down here, s’that right?”

His hand slides down to your cunt, pressing his palm overtop of you through your pajama pants and you’re so wet you’re sure he can feel it even through two layers of fabric. Your throaty cry in response and the feverish nod of your head confirms what he’d been teasing you about, and Harry delivers one last soft kiss to your lips before dropping to his knees before you.

Fuck. You never thought you’d see Professor Harry Styles, the man of your dreams and the one person you considered to be entirely unattainable, kneeling in front of you with his nice dress pants on and a crisp button up shirt. He looks entirely normal, save for his messy hair and lust blown pupils, and you’re sure you look a bloody mess but his eyes still devour you like you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

You drop your shaky hands down to the tie of your pants, undoing it at record speed, and he hooks his fingers in your waistband. Slowly - so slowly - Harry tugs them down and his eyes remain on you as though expecting you to stop him, but you can’t. Finally they pool by your feet and you lift your legs to kick them off, sending them flying near the couch where Marie resides.

Had you known this would be happening perhaps you would have opted for racier panties - your cotton thong isn’t terrible but it certainly isn’t doing you any favours, and you have so many lace ones at home that would have been perfect for the opportunity - but Harry still looks at you like you created the world. He leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your inner thigh and then the other, leaning in to suck a dark purple hickey into your skin.

You suppose he has a thing for hickeys.

Your fingers twist in his curls, trying to direct his head up to where you truly need him, and he chuckles softly - the soft exhalation of air makes you whine as it hits your cunt, even through your panties. A soft kiss is what he lands on your clothed clit, and your hips buck up into his mouth. You’d forgotten, perhaps, that you’d had an orgasm less than an hour prior but you’re very swiftly reminded, and he looks up at you with a smirk.

“So reactive,” he murmurs, wrapping his lips around your clit through your underwear and sucking softly. “Just the way I like.”

A shaky breath escapes your mouth as you toss your head back, legs shaking and you can’t expect them to hold you up much longer. One of his hands moves to the back of your thigh, kneading your skin softly, and the other dips into the hem of your panties and slowly tugs them down. You’re so wet that the fabric is desperate to stick to your dripping cunt but he manages to roll them down your legs, face to face with your pussy and -

Heat floods through your body and up to your face as you look down and make eye contact with Harry. Now that he’s down there, gazing at your bare pussy, you feel oddly compelled to protect whatever modesty you have left and shut your legs but then he grabs one of your legs and throws it over his shoulder, pushing you back just a bit until your back smacks into the wall, and leans in.

The first stripe he licks up your core sends a choked cry from the back of your throat and then a long whine as Harry focuses his attention on your clit. His tongue flicks the swollen bud, still rubbing circles into the back of your thigh. Your heel digs into his back as he moves one hand up to your cunt, running his finger through your soaked folds before pushing it inside of you.

He curls his finger, mimicking a come hither motion until he brushes against the spot that makes your hips jerk against his face. Harry’s lips wrap around your clit and when your eyes roll back into your head, he takes his hand off your thigh and snaps his fingers.

“Look at me,” he demands, voice muffled against your cunt, and the vibrations roll through your body like an earthquake. “I wanna watch you fall apart. Look at me.”

Slowly you lower your eyes back down to him, meeting his gaze as he pulls his mouth away briefly - smacks his lips - and pushes a second finger into your dripping heat. As he thrusts them in and out, hitting that sweet spot in your velvet walls, you can feel your orgasm building in the pit of your tummy embarrassingly fast, but you want to hold out for him. Want to prolong this as long as you can.

Harry’s teeth brush against your clit and you cry out, barely hearing the way he groans, “So fucking reactive for me, yeah?” but you can hear it and it only makes you moan louder. His tongue draws patterns over your clit and he’s so determined to maintain eye contact but you can tell it’s a struggle for both of you.

He pulls his fingers out of you, licking a thin stripe up one of them as if he can’t get enough of your taste before reaching his arm up so his fingers rest on your bottom lip. Obediently you open your mouth, accepting his digits and swirling your tongue around them, tasting yourself on his skin, as he leans back, glancing up at you with heat blazing in his eyes.

“You’re close,” he tells you, his voice deep and throaty. “Can feel it - feel how you’re clenching around my fingers, baby. D’you wanna cum? Tell me how fucking bad you want it.”

Harry pulls his fingers from your mouth and presses them to your clit, rubbing a slow circle as you struggle to find your voice before gasping, “Fuck - need to cum so fucking bad Harry - Harry, oh my god -”

“Yeah? Gonna cum for me?”

“Yes! Oh my god, H - Harry -”

“Cum for me, baby.”

He leans in, wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking and that’s all you need to topple over the edge, the orgasm that had been building in the pit of your tummy finally exploding. Your head falls back against the wall with a thud that’s hardly audible over your loud shrieks and moans, your leg finally giving out and you damn near slide to the ground before Harry hooks an arm around your thigh to keep you upright.

His tongue flicks at your clit gently, riding you through your orgasm, and when you’re coming down from your high it’s all you can focus on. There’s a high pitched ringing in your ears and you don’t think you’ve ever - ever - cum that hard in your life. You’d only been with one guy before who didn’t even know women could orgasm and your fingers never gave you anything so earth shattering.

Your breathing comes out in desperate pants as Harry rises from his knees, moving both hands to your hips as your legs nearly collapse again. Your clit is throbbing and when you press your body to his, leaning up to kiss him so desperately, you can feel his boner, hard against your thigh.

“Holy shit, professor.” It’s all you can manage, pulling away to drop your head against his chest, using the moment to try and steady your breaths. “W - who knew you were so good at that.”

His fingers brush through the ends of your hair, a gesture so sweet and innocent that it could make you forget what just occurred. “A hidden talent, I guess,” he mutters, gripping your chin to kiss you again.

You drop your hands to his waist, gripping his nice button down shirt in your tight grasp, surely wrinkling the fabric as you roll your hips against his. Even through his pants his hard on feels fucking huge and you’ve only been with one guy before and suddenly you’re wondering if he’ll even fit inside of you.

But you’ll try. By god, you’ll try. And you press your head to the wall, looking up at him with lust dilated pupils. “Harry.”

“Tell me what you need, baby.” But he already knows, and you can tell he needs the same thing.

You swallow, bucking your hips forward against his boner, and he groans. “I want you to fuck me. Please. I - I need you to fuck me, professor.”

The word makes him moan aloud, and within barely a second he’s grabbing your wrist, tugging you away from the wall and across the apartment until he’s swinging open a door and pulling you inside.

Something about being in his bedroom is entirely different than being in his living room, the carpet beneath your bare feet plush and soft. There’s a large television in front of his bed and the bed is made beautifully, a flannel blanket tossed over the end, and you can’t fucking wait to mess it up.

Harry spins you around to face him, attaching your lips once more as he shuts the door. You whimper into his mouth as his hand drops down to your bare bum, squeezing the flesh in his large palm. “Sorry,” you murmur, voice high pitched and breathy, “was nosing again -”

He groans as you drop your hand to the front of his fancy dress pants, trying desperately to undo the button with one shaking hand. It’s a struggle and finally he chuckles breathlessly, dropping both hands down to help you with the task, and finally you reach your hand into his trousers and press your palm against his cock, hot and heavy even through his boxers.

“Bed,” he grunts, backing you up until the back of your knees hit a hard edge and you fall backwards onto his plush duvet. He stands above you, breathing heavily, and for a moment you stare at each other, as though processing that this is happening - and the moment picks up again. Harry reaches down and tugs at the bottom hem of your shirt, pulling it up and off your body and sending it into the corner of the room. Your bra is lace, at least, and decidedly prettier than your panties, and for a moment he stares down at your chest with a look of pure lust adorning his face.

“You look a bit flushed, professor,” you tell him, voice faux innocent and sounding entirely more confident than you feel. “Are you feeling okay?”

Harry chuckles through gritted teeth, and you push yourself onto your elbows so you can work at the buttons of his shirt as he tugs his pants down his legs. “I’ve never been better, in fact.” His boxers are flannel and you can see the bulge in his boxers, and it’s even bigger than what you’d expected.

Your work at undoing his buttons slows down as your mind suddenly flips into overdrive - you must wear the worry that suddenly overtakes you because Harry leans down, pressing a kiss to your lips.

“When’s the last time you’ve done this?” he questions, voice soft and spun sugar sweet.

“Um -” you try and think. The last time you’d done this you’d lost your virginity and that was - “A year ago. Maybe longer.”

Harry nods, nudging your nose with his and giving you one final kiss before rising back up. His hands replace yours as he works on unbuttoning his shirt. “I’m going to go slow, baby. I promise.”

In every fantasy you’ve had about him, he’s not slow - he’s fast, pounding you so hard the bed is nearly louder than the noises you make - but now that you’re here with him? Maybe you need slow.

You nod, and he smiles down at you. He presses his hands onto the mattress and then snakes them beneath you, fingers working at the clasp of your bra, and you lift yourself up slightly so he can undo it and slide your last piece of clothing off of you. He sends it into another part of the room and you can’t be bothered to focus on it because - Christ! - all of a sudden Harry lowers his mouth to your breast, wrapping his lips around one of your nipples and sucking.

“Fuck!” you gasp, fingers working themselves into his curls. Your fingernails scratch at his scalp and he moans lowly against your skin. Harry lifts his head off of you, pinching one of your nipples so you cry out.

He lifts one leg to rest on the bed and then grips your hips, pulling you closer to the edge. Your legs instinctively spread and he watches you, breathing heavily. “Baby,” he mutters, hands slipping his boxers down his thighs. “You’re so fucking perfect.”

Heat burns your cheeks and you shut your eyes.

“Look at me,” Harry tells you, and it’s all you can do to obey. “Want you looking at me while I fuck you. Can you do that?”

You nod, swallowing as he grips one of your calves and hikes it onto the bed, exposing your sensitive, dripping cunt to him. You look down your body, where he’s grasping his achingly fucking hard cock in his hand, and then he drags the tip down your slit with a low hiss.

“Are you ready, baby?” he asks, voice soft and strained, as if he’s holding back and you know he is. But he needs this to be a good experience for you so it can be good for him and that’s what you appreciate.

“Y - yeah.” you push yourself onto your elbows and your eyes meet, maintaining perfect eye contact as he pushes himself inside of you. He’s going achingly slow and -

The stretch aches and you drop your head onto the mattress with a groan, Harry’s hand immediately finding your hand where you’re grasping the duvet feverishly. He bottoms out, fully sheathed in your warm cunt, a low groan piercing the air at the feeling of your walls, tight around him. It hurts - not as much as you’d expected, and the pain that quite literally fills you overtakes the burn.

You squeeze his hand, feeling his other run up and down the inside of your thigh as you adjust to him. “Oh - my god - wait - just - just one second wait one second -”

“Of course,” he breathes, and his voice is shaky with an emotion you can’t quite decipher. “T - take your time, babygirl.”

After a few seconds you push your head up to look at him, nodding slightly. “Okay. I need more, p - professor.”

You can tell he likes when you call him that and in some weird way you love it too - love knowing that the professor everyone lusts for is fucking you, slowly pulling out before thrusting back in, squeezing your hand when you cry out at the feeling. Maybe you’re not the first student to experience him like this but based on his demeanor you think you are - there’s something about him in this moment that feels like a secret you’ve discovered.

“Oh - fuck -” Harry grunts as he moves his hand from your thigh to your hip, pressing your body down with just enough force to limit your movements. It’s paining him, going so slow, you can tell - and you’re already starting to need more from him. You need him to go faster, and with a breathy moan you tell him.

Slowly his pace picks up, his grip on your hip tightening until you’re sure there’ll be fingerprint shaped bruises on your skin by tomorrow morning. With every thrust he fills you up so completely that every perfect spot inside of you is hit just right, and you never knew it could feel this good.

Every noise of his that tears through the bedroom spurs you on, pushing your hips into his to deepen every thrust. And every time you whine or whimper or cry or anything Harry delivers a harder thrust, fucking you so deep that you can feel it in the pit of your tummy.

“God, p - professor,” you moan, the word falling entirely too naturally off your lips even in your heightened state. Harry throws his head back with a high pitched whine, speeding up his pace until the loudest noise in the room is skin hitting skin. “Holy shit - fuck - I’m gonna - gonna -”

“Gonna cum around my cock, baby?” He hisses, pressing the hand that had once resided on your hip into the mattress, gripping the covers tighter so he can rail his hips into yours desperately. “So fucking tight around me, can’t even fucking stand it -”

Your hand, shaking beyond belief, slides down to rub hard circles into your clit. The sensations on your clit and his cock, rutting against your G spot with every thrust, sends you over the edge again - already so overstimulated from the rather intense orgasm you’d had before - and with a loud cry-bordering-on-scream you’re cumming again.

“Fuck!” you moan, hips bucking up against his as you ride out the waves of your orgasm. “Fuck, Harry, oh my god -”

He’s not far behind you, hips stuttering ever so slightly but he wants to bring you to one more orgasm, securing this day as the best fuck of your (admittedly limited) sex life and he can’t cum yet. Your hand falls back onto the mattress and Harry pulls his clammy hand from yours, bringing it down to replace your fingers on your clit, and immediately you clench around his cock, begging incoherently for something - you’re not sure what - as he presses down on your clit hard.

Your eyes roll back into your head as his cock twitches inside of you, and grunts and moans are flying from Harry’s mouth faster than he can control it. Your walls flutter around his dick, his thrusts slowing to lazy pumps in and out. He’s so fucking close, he just needs one more push and then -

Your fingers wrap around his wrist and he looks down at you, your eyes nearly black with desire, tears streaking down your cheeks. “C - cum in me, professor.”

It’s the final straw for Harry, and with a nearly animalistic cry he sheathes himself fully inside of you and cums so hard so fast, it’s nearly violent, and the feeling of warmth that explodes in your cunt sends you into your fourth orgasm of the night -

It’s less intense than the others but still entirely too prominent and when you’ve finally rode out the last wave you collapse against the bed, your head spinning and your legs aching as Harry presses it back down from where it had been perched up.

Harry collapses on top of you, his body suffocating and hot and sweaty and you wrap your arms around him, your desperate attempts at steadying your breathing filling the room. You’ve never cum so hard and so much and you’re fucking exhausted, truthfully.

He lifts his head, gazing down at you as you run your fingers through his tangled, sweat soaked curls. “How was that?”

You exhale with a smile upturning your lips, beginning to feel his cum dripping out of your pussy and down your thighs. “Jesus Christ,” you murmur, and a grin breaks onto his face as he drops his forehead against your shoulder.

The two of you lie in silence for a moment - no words need to be spoken. Harry shifts the pair of you further up the bed, your head crashing onto one of his pillows as he remains, firmly on top of you, like he never wants to leave.

But you can’t stop yourself from asking the question burning through your mind, and you swallow thickly before mumbling, “Harry -”

He hums softly.

“Is this like - a one time thing?”

His head lifts again, chin pressed to your shoulder blade, eyebrows furrowed. Harry takes a moment to respond, though, lifting his hand to trace a line across your jawline to your lips, and you press a soft kiss to the tips of his fingers when he arrives at his destination. “I don’t think so,” he tells you, and his voice is quiet and vulnerable, as if waiting for you to deny him. “I’ve never felt this way about anyone.”

You smile softly, leaning in to press a kiss against his soft lips. “Can I tell you a secret?”

“‘Course, baby.”

The name makes your tummy flutter, and you think you could listen to him call you baby for the rest of your life. “I’ve dreamt of this,” you tell him, lips merely a centimeter from his. “Since the beginning of the semester, every night.”

Harry raises his eyebrows at you, and you giggle at his expression. “Glad to know I’m not the only one.”

You shut your eyes, then. Rest your head on his pillow, feeling warm with the man you adore pressed on top of you, his arms firmly and protectively wrapped around you. Nothing has ever felt more right to you, and you drift off to sleep with a soft smile still gracing your lips.

[mysticalrambling]

Charity Event (T.H)

(III)

My Main Masterlist is here.

My 400 Follower Masterlist is here.

Tom Holland Masterlist is here.

Summary: Tom introduces you to the world at a charity event and it all goes really well. You enjoy the event with your boyfriend with some exceptions. You also make some friends.

Warnings: None. Fluff all the way.

._._._._.

Today was something that you were dreading from the day Tom told you about it. He wanted to take you to a charity event and introduce you to the world. People know that Tom has a girlfriend by some of the blurry images on his instagram but no one knows your name or how you look like. This was going to be your first public appearance and you were nervous to say the least.

“Babe, y’ready?” A whistle escaped his lips when he saw you standing in front of the full length mirror.

“Yeah but-”

“Darlin’, know what you’re gonna say. Don’t worry, It’ll be okay.”

You had already told Tom about your hesitations but he had convinced you that they needed to get this over with. It was all bound to come out one way or another. The paparazzi had gotten a few shots in of your face yesterday when you were out grabbing a coffee with Tom.

When you both got to know about the article, Tom was furious. He had yelled at the chief editor and when his manager threatened to sue them, they finally dropped the article. However, the damage had already been done. People knew who you were or they had started to come to that conclusion. Seeing all this, Tom had thought that it would be good to finally give you a proper introduction to the world. You knew it was the right thing to do but you were just on edge.

“You look stunnin’. Maybe we should just skip it.” Tom was trying to distract you from your anxious thoughts and it was working.

“Should’ve said that before I spent two hours on myself.”

“Got it. After the event?”

“Shut up, you horn dog!”

Chuckling loudly, you finally looked at yourself in the mirror. You looked pretty in the maroon high slit dress with a low neckline. It really brought all your curves and really brought out the color of your eyes. Your hair sat on your shoulder in light curls and very minimal makeup made your overall appearance look very natural and sophisticated. ‘Everything is going to be okay. You don’t need anyone’s approval.’

“Let’s go.” Stepping towards the bed, you bent down to take the purse but quickly straightened up with a gasp. “Tommy!”

“Can’t help myself. They’re right there, darling.” That cheeky bastard had the nerve to grin at you and you just shook your head at his childish behavior.

Once you arrived at the venue, you just let out a shaky breath before you were being escorted out of the car by your boyfriend. The flashes blinded you immediately even though you were expecting the paparazzi to be there. Their voices travelled to your ears and it took you a moment to realise what they were all saying.

‘Tom Holland, look right here!’

‘Who is this beside you? Is she your girlfriend?’

‘Tom, are you starring in a new movie?’

‘Are you seeing Zendaya?’

The last question was the most popular among the vultures trying to get to you both (well mainly Tom). You wanted to scoff at their audacity because you were right there with him. Tom and Zendaya have confirmed on multiple occasions that they are not involved and that they are seeing other people. But these people never listen and you really despised them. They had no sense of privacy. After all, this all was happening because of their stupid article.

Tightening his grip around your waist, he gently whispered in your ears. “Just ignore ‘em, love.”

When both of you were behind the closed doors, you heaved a sigh of relief. “Hate them so damn much.”

“Just think of it as them doing their jobs, darling.”

“Yeah well, I hate their job.”

You really didn’t like them because they never respected people’s privacy. Actors have to share their work and things related to it but they have no obligation to share every detail of their private life. It’s not only them that are affected by the paparazzi, its also the people related to them.

The social media has really made your anxiety 10x worse than before. There were things said on social media regarding you that sometimes led to really severe depressive episodes. During those times, you were glad that Tom was there with you to help you through it. He really was your rock.

“Champagne?” The waiter interrupted your talk and you both gratefully excepted the drinks.

“Let’s enjoy the event and forget about the other things.” With his arms looped around your waist, you started making your way around the hall.

You had already noticed many of Tom’s friends so you all gathered around the bar. They all looked really put together and you felt a little left out standing among them. As if Tom knew what was going inside your head, he gently squeezed your waist and gave you a forehead kiss. He was always there to reassure you because you were the prettiest girl that he had ever laid his eyes on.

“Hey Tom. Nice of you to come.” Dean, the head organiser of the charity event came up to the group and shook hands with your boyfriend.

“Hi Dean. Glad I could make it.”

“Who’s this beautiful lady next to you?” Before any of you could respond, he was already kissing your hand.

“This here is my girlfriend, (Y/N).” Tom pulled you back into his arms which forced Dean to give you your hand back, though he didn’t seem to happy about it.

“Well, she’s really something. Where did you find her?”

The condescending tone that he was using for you was really getting on Tom’s nerves. Men like him really were a menace and Tom just wanted to punch him in the face. He was scanning your body up and down and you were disgusted by it. The thing that made you want to vomit was that he was older than your father. He was really making you uncomfortable and you were Tom’s first priority.

“That’s really none of anyone’s business. Besides, this is our song.”

“Thank you, Tommy.”

“No need to thank me, darlin’. Men like him shouldn’t be out in the open.”

“Let’s dance and enjoy our night.”

It was the song that was playing in the bar the first time you met him in the bar. From then onwards, it was played on all your important occasions; the first time you went on a date or the first time you said ‘I love you’ to each other. You were always a fan of Ed Sheeran so ‘Perfect’ was just the ideal song.

Dancing closely, he whispered in your ears. “You okay?”

“I will be once I get those crab cakes.”

“How are we still together?”

“‘cause I’m that charming.” Giving him a full blown smile, you kissed him sweetly.

Soon time passed with you both mingling with other people and you both were ready to get out of here. Tom had introduced you to so many people that you knew it was going to be on the news tomorrow. ‘Tom Holland’s Girlfriend Finally Out in the Open.’ There were some people that you really clicked with and you spent the rest of your time with them. It was fun and you were glad that you were enjoying it (Tom more so than you).

“Ready to get out of here, darling?”

You were a little tipsy from all the sparkling champagne so you giggled like a teenager girl. “Hell yes!”

“Let’s go then.”

“Bye guys! We should meet sometime.”

The group chuckled at your antics and one of them spoke up, “You already made a plan to meet with us tomorrow for drinks, (Y/N).”

“Oh yes! Tommy will be there as well.” A chorus of ‘perfect’ was heard but you were already making your way towards the door with your boyfriend in tow.

“How much have you had to drink?” Tom had to make sure that you weren’t drunk before the night proceeds.

“Just a lil to get me tipsy.”

“Okay so we’re going to go home and sleep.”

“No!! Why?”

“Because I said so. Love you.” He kissed you until you gave up on the argument and sulkily sat in the car.

After a moment of silence, you spoke up, “Love you too and I really enjoyed myself today.”

“Glad to hear that, love.” When he looked at you again, you had dozed off with your cheeks pressed up against the window. God, he really loved you to bits.

Hope you guys liked it!!

._._._._.

400 FOLLOWER CELEBRATION!!

A/N: This is my third blurb to celebrate my 400 followers and there is one more to come. I really love you guys and I really appreciate you all. Couldn’t have gotten here without you all especially my tumblr buddy, @peculiarpenman. Tell me what you guys think about it and I’m open to requests. Also, if you want to be added to my tag list, do let me know.

Tag list: @peculiarpenman, @kalopsia-flaneur, @agnesk

Like, comment and reblog.

._._._._.

[perlukafarinn]

(ao3)

The day starts out pretty unremarkable. Dean wakes up at the crack of dawn to Cas slipping out of bed for his morning jog. He pulls him down for a good-morning kiss that turns into a make-out session that turns into them trading lazy handjobs and then falling asleep in each other’s arms again. 

Their actual start to the day is around ten AM, when Cas finally gets up for his jog and Dean gets up for his cereal and a scroll through the morning news. He’s on the look for hunts, mostly out of habit since there’s been very little monster activity since Chuck went and fucked off for good. He doesn’t find anything this morning but that’s hardly a surprise. It’s been a couple of weeks since they’ve been out on a hunt and that inactivity, weirdly enough, is starting to bother him less and less. 

Cas comes back from his jog about an hour before noon and with the mildest of prodding convinces Dean to join him in the shower. Afterwards, they throw together a lunch made from yesterday’s leftovers, taking their time eating and playing footsie under the table, because that’s apparently the kind of couple they are.

Usually by this time of day, Cas would be off in the Men of Letters’ library working on translations or cataloging and Dean would be on the phone helping Garth help out young, out-of-their depth hunters or in the garage, working on one of the beautiful but sadly neglected vehicles left behind there decades ago. 

Today, both of them are seemingly feeling kind of lazy and so hardly any work gets done. It’s not until late in the afternoon that Dean feels the urge to do something productive and suggests they go out for groceries, which Cas readily agrees to. 

The ride into town is quiet. Cas plays his mixtape - the damn thing should be worn out by now and Dean should  long since be sick of it but for reasons too sappy to mention he isn’t - and they sit and listen in comfortable silence. It’s not until they pass the town hall on their way to the supermarket that Cas gets a contemplative look on his face.

“Should we get married?”

Only years of experience behind the wheel prevent Dean’s hands from twitching wildly and veering them into oncoming traffic.

“What.”

Cas looks over, frowning. “I’ve been thinking about this for a while. Is there any reason for us not to get married? We’re already planning on staying together for the rest of our lives.”

“Is there any reason-” Dean wheezes. “What the fuck, Cas? Is this your idea of a proposal?”

“Are you saying no?” Cas asks, mildly curious, as if they’re talking about the fucking weather and not getting married. “Because we don’t have to.”

Dean stares ahead, tightening his grip on the steering wheel. “Are you actually asking?”

“I suppose I am.”

“You ‘suppose’,” Dean mocks. “Gee, Cas, that’s real romantic.”

“Will you marry me?”

Dean pulls over. It’s far too sudden, probably leaving tire tracks in the concrete, and the driver behind them honks his horn loudly as he passes. Dean ignores him, taking a deep breath as he finally turns to face Cas. 

“Are you sure?”

He doesn’t really have to ask - Cas wouldn’t have brought it up if he wasn’t sure - but he needs to hear it. 

Thankfully, Cas seems to get that. “I want to marry you, Dean. Do you want to marry me?”

“Son of a bitch,” Dean breathes. “I mean - yes. Yeah, I do.”

Cas nods decisively. “Alright then. Now?”

“Now?”

It’s not exactly how Dean imagined this scenario would go (not that he - shut up) but it’s somehow the most romantic fucking thing that’s ever happened to him since Cas first told him he loved him. And hey, this time no one had to die!

They turn around, since there’s no point in going in without (forged) birth certificates. Once they get to the town hall, shortly before closing, they find out that it’s a three-day mandatory waiting period between applying for a marriage license and them actually being allowed to get married.

Cas suggests they use the interim time to pick up wedding rings. They wind up spending the next day driving to Topeka, where they find a couple of silver rings in a pawn shop. They’re tarnished but otherwise in good condition and once they get home, Dean spends the rest of the evening cleaning them while trying very hard not to think about just what they’re for.

The second day, Cas spends out back tending to his garden while Dean almost dials Sam’s number repeatedly before hanging up, torn between wanting to let his brother know that he’s getting married and not wanting to jinx it.

The third day, they head back into town. They arrive at the town hall just after it opens and it’s not until they’re standing in front of the clerk that Dean realizes they don’t have any witnesses. The clerk assures him that they don’t need one for civil ceremonies and the next ten minutes pass in a blur until Dean is being prompted to place the ring on Cas’ finger.

He does so with shaking hands, stilled only once Cas places one of his own on top and gives Dean a patient smile. He’s this calm for a reason, Dean finally realizes.

This doesn’t change anything.

Married or not, they’ve already promised themselves to each other for the rest of their lives. Til death do them part doesn’t even begin to describe it, and in sickness and in health is almost laughable at this point.

This really doesn’t change anything.

Dean’s own hand is still as Cas takes his turn, sliding the silver ring upon Dean’s finger. They say their “I do”s when prompted by the clerk, exchange a short, firm kiss, and just like that it’s over.

They’re married. 

*

When Jody invites them to dinner about a week later, they still haven’t told anyone. Sam and Eileen will be there as well as Jack and the girls - it’s a regular family reunion and the perfect chance to announce the big news to everyone.

Dean has a better idea.

“Let’s not tell anyone,” he says. “At least, not before dessert. Let’s see if they notice first.”

They’re in the Impala, about half an hour away from Jody’s place. 

Cas shoots him an amused look. “Is this because Sam claimed he always knew we’d get together when we first told him we were involved?”

“No,” Dean lies. He drums his fingers on the steering wheel, seeing Cas still giving him that look from the corner of his eye. “Fine, yes. But he didn’t know, for the record. He just likes to pretend he’s always on top of this shit.”

“He doesn’t like to admit when you’ve surprised him,” Cas agrees.

The conversation ends there but Dean’s plan is apparently agreed upon since once they arrive at Jody’s, Cas doesn’t say a word about their recent relationship upgrade. Jody doesn’t seem to notice anything different, but then Dean didn’t expect her to. She’s not the one they spend most of their time around. Neither do Donna, Alex, Claire or Kaia, none of them surprises. Patience, Dean is less sure about, but she at least doesn’t say anything. Her eyes do linger unusually long but that could mean anything.

Damn psychics.

Sam and Eileen arrive half an hour after Dean and Cas, Jack in tow. This is the real test; Sam and Dean may not spend as much time together in the past few months as they did in the years before but he’s still the person who knows Dean best and would be the most likely to notice a difference.

And yet, nothing.

Dean tries not to feel too smug.

They go through dinner without anyone mentioning it. Dean makes a point of reaching across the table as many times as he can, showing off the ring glinting on his finger. Cas must notice him doing it, judging by the fond exasperation on his face, but he’s the only one.

It isn’t until dessert that Patience breaks, patience (hah) clearly run out:

“Is no one going to mention that Dean and Castiel are wearing wedding rings?”

And all hell breaks loose.

Sam is wounded - mostly over Dean and Cas not telling him before they got married, though Dean can tell some part of it is his pride at not seeing this coming - but he’s over it soon enough, once they explain that it wasn’t a big deal, not some proper ceremony, just a quick affirmation of what they already knew.

“See if I make you Best Man at my wedding after this, jerk,” Sam tells Dean.

“Your wedding?” Eileen asks pointedly. 

Jody and Donna offer their congratulations before the conversation can get awkward, and Kaia, Alex, and Patience chime in with theirs as well. Jack looks confused at the whole proceeding, finally asking whether this means there won’t be any bouquet to catch, which only means Dean has gravely failed him in his pop culture education (oh, who’s he kidding, as if half the romcoms Jack has watched didn’t come directly from the recommended tab on Dean’s Netflix account). 

Finally, with a pointed elbow from Kaia and a hangdog expression from Cas, Claire mumbles that she’s happy for them. While Dean doesn’t doubt that’s true he also knows that this is more complicated for her than the rest of them, and for the first time he kind of feels guilty about springing this news on everyone. 

It doesn’t last long, not after Donna cheerfully raises her glass and proposes a toast to the happy couple and everyone else follows suit. They chant for them to kiss and, blushing outrageously, Dean complies, leaning over to press a quick kiss against Cas’ lips. 

“So, who proposed?” Sam asks once the hooting and hollering has calmed.

“Cas did,” Dean says, slinging an arm around his husband’s - his husband’s - shoulders. “And it was the least romantic proposal of all time, you should’ve heard him.”

Cas rolls his eyes. “If I had left it up to you, we never would have gotten married.”

“He didn’t even give me time to pick out flowers,” Dean informs Sam gravely. 

“There’s always the vow renewal,” Cas says, the casual statement managing to sound like a threat, and Dean shuts up. 

The conversation moves on, the mood noticeably cheerier. As Jack and Sam launch into a story of their most recent hunt, Dean leans against Cas.

“We could have flowers, if you want,” he mutters. 

Cas smiles at him, so bright and easy that it makes Dean’s heart stutter. He takes Dean’s hand, rubbing his thumb over the cool silver of Dean’s ring.

“That’s not necessary,” he says. “I’ve got everything I want right here.”