#get slammed salmon | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

moonchildstyles · 16 days ago

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pomegranate

pomegrante part one: harry and y/n are roommates and she doesn't want him to feel lonely

wordcount: 14.2k+

—————

Harry's brows knitted together as he lifted his eyes from the avocado he was slicing, eyes flitting to the television from where he stood at his kitchen island. Truthfully, he didn't know why he kept watching this show when he never agreed with any of the contestants' decisions. More often than not, he came away frustrated when he watched these singles fumble budding relationships in favor of the near-mythical 'something better' they were convinced was out there. He couldn't understand why they prioritized sex with someone they didn't even know existed yet over someone right in front of them, that was more than enough.

Shaking his head when he saw another shirtless, spray-tanned man with a head of permed curls on the top of his head pull a beautiful girl to the side for a "chat", Harry directed his attention back to the strokes of the knife under his hand. His sushi bake would be out of the oven soon and he needed to get all of his fix-ins in order before the timer ran out.

Just as he stowed away his slices of avocado and started on the edamame pods he planned on salting and marinating, the humming of the garage door rolling up rumbled through the house. A slight smile touched at his cheeks, already anticipating the clicking of heels he would no doubt hear before the door leading from the garage to the kitchen would be swung open with a huff.

(Y/N) had been on a date tonight, and there was no way it had gone well if she was already home. Only an hour away didn't make for a particularly fun night.

As expected, only moments after the garage had been closed and he heard the slam of her car door, (Y/N) trudged in from the extension with a tired expression on her face.

"Hey, H," she sighed, already bending over to take her shoes off despite barely making it onto the tile of the kitchen floor.

"Hi, (Y/N)," he greeted, turning around with his avocado slices left behind, "Bad night?"

He didn't have to see her face to know she was rolling her eyes.

"The worst." She stood up to her full height—sans high heels, of course—with a flick of her hair. "I should've just stayed home with you. I wouldn't have been bored to near tears with you."

For a second, Harry felt his heart sitting in his throat. Did she have any idea what it did to him when she talked like that—joked like that? Years into this friendship with no shortage of her sweetened comments, he doubted she did. He just hoped that she didn't notice his cheeks reddening and the way his hands suddenly didn't know what to do.

"'M sorry," he murmured, "Was he nice at least?"

(Y/N) shrugged, the silk straps of her top shifting over her smooth shoulders. "Nice enough—he just likes talking about himself, I think."

Harry's lips thinned at her comment. He couldn't imagine being anything but the best listener for (Y/N); who wouldn't want to hear everything that was going on in her head and the piles of stories, however mundane, she could share?

"Well, unless you're too tired, we could watch our show? Dinner will be ready soon if y'were still hungry."

It was the way she seemingly inflated, light in her eyes with her hands brought to her chest all to match the bubbly smile on her lips, that had his heart springing in his chest.

"You'd share your dinner with me?"

You can have everything of mine, as long as you keep looking at me like that.

A mild smile curled his lips in hopes of concealing everything bubbling underneath his skin. "Of course. 'S a salmon sushi bake, if that sounds any good to you."

"That sounds so good, H. You're the best, thank you."

Her smile was dazzling when she turned it on him. Thank god he had set his knife down, or he would have lost a couple of fingers at this point.

This time, he couldn't shake the smile that bloomed over his lips, however sheepish it was. "Of course—um, thank you."

A peal of laughter left her lips as she traipsed out of the kitchen, heels in hand. "You're so sweet. I'm gonna change, but I'll be right back!"

As if in a swirl of cherry blossoms and white lace, (Y/N) was gone. Along with her went the sparks that flooded his bloodstream and tremors in his fingers.

God, he'd have thought knowing her since university days he would be used to her at this point. It was as if becoming roommates those couple of months ago did the opposite of acclimating him to her presence. He wasn't sure there was anything about her—the way she looked, the way she acted, the way she talked—that didn't hold even a bit of magic in his eyes.

The sound of the oven timer going off brought Harry back to real life. Now that he was planning on sharing this dinner with (Y/N), he wanted to ensure everything was perfect. One of his favorite things about living with her was being able to take care of her through simple things like cooking dinner or making coffee in the morning. Every night she went out on a date or took a night off to go out for a girls night, he was there to get the rundown of her time away and feed her toast and water to lessen the blow of the morning hangover as much as he could. He was there for any and everything—even if he wasn't necessarily in the mood to hear about her feelings for another. He would rather be on her side even if she was on someone else's arm, than not be there at all.

All while (Y/N) was readying herself for a night in with Harry, he was focusing on his knife strokes and mixing the different sauces to be drizzled over the bake. By the time she emerged with a set of pajamas on and her hair twisted out of her face, Harry had crafted the perfect dinner to be shared over an episode of their tropic reality dating show.

He didn't wait for her before he was putting together her plate, dressed the way he knew she liked, sheets of nori off to the side along with a pair of chopsticks he taught her how to use years ago.

"There's extra in the kitchen if y'want more," he murmured as he passed the plate to her hands, taking the spot on the couch at her side.

"This looks so good, H," she beamed, looking at him with something he liked to think of as affection in her eyes, "Thank you again, really. You're already making my night so much better."

"Good," he swallowed, dropping his eyes to the tip of her nose, "'M glad I could—um—make y'happy."

He could have cringed at the sound of his fumbling words, but that was only cut off when (Y/N) shot him a beaming smile and gave him a hug in the form of wrapping her arm around his own and resting her head on his shoulder for a lingering moment.

"Wait! Wasn't he paired with Amber an episode ago?"

(Y/N)'s bubbled outrage was the perfect cover to the way his heart had landed in his throat. This way, he could concentrate on anything but himself and the reactions he was having over someone who was supposed to be just his friend.

"Yeah," Harry murmured, wrapping a bite of crispy rice and marinated salmon on a sheet of nori, "He pulled Lissa over for a chat at the start of this one."

"Of course, he did," (Y/N) grumbled.

While he would never wish anything but pure joy on her, Harry couldn't help the way his own happiness sprouted in his chest. He would never pass on a night like this.

—————

"Can I lay on you?"

Harry blinked back to earth at the sound of (Y/N)'s voice over the familiar episode of a long ended reality show they'd already watched hundreds of times. Looking to her end of the couch, she was already slouched into the corner cushion, eyes heavy and hair tucked not a mess away from her face.

He didn't think before he nodded his head, uncurling his legs to allow her space to lay her head. She murmured her gratitude in a sleepy voice as she stretched across the cushions to rest her head on his thighs.

It was a familiar move, something that (Y/N) had done many times even prior to their roommate situation coming to fruition. She'd spilled to him more than once that she was a cuddly person—touchy-feely, was the way she put it—taking and loving all of the physical affection she was able to collect. Including from Harry, who always seemed to take the whole thing entirely too seriously. It was cute, she'd said, cute enough she couldn't help but to laugh.

Tonight, she was already heavy-eyed and loose-limbed by the time she settled against his legs. Her hands were tucked under her cheek, a small barrier between his thigh and her cheek though he could still feel every ray of her warmth no matter what.

He did his absolute best to stay relaxed despite the instinct to straighten his spine and tense his muscles at the affectionate way she laid over him. He wanted to be the best pillow he could be for her, and that wouldn't be possible if he resembled a wooden plank more than a fluffed case of feathers.

Harry's win came in the form of a languid sigh that left her lips, (Y/N) practically going boneless against him.

"You're the best, H," she murmured, just barely audible over the club music sounding from the television. "Thank you."

Swallowing, he allowed his eyes to glaze over her form without her own watchful gaze on him. Hearing those words attached to that mouth from this gorgeous girl, was going to make him burst.

"You're welcome," he whispered, urging his eyes to move on from the sliver of her midriff on display from the ruched hem of her top.

As expected, a breathy laugh came from (Y/N). "You can touch me, you know," she said, twisting just enough to look up at him through flared lashes, "You don't have to keep your hands up like that."

He hadn't even realized he froze with his limbs hovering over her, resting away as if there were a barrier holding him back. "Oh," he sounded, blood burning behind his cheeks, "Sorry."

Could he be any more pathetic? Embarrassment surged through his veins. Was there any other way he could make it that much more obvious just how nervous (Y/N) made him?

In a set of cautious movements, his hands floated back down to her form. He gently settled his palm on the cuff of her shoulder while the other rested near her head, where strands of hair brushed the stretch of his fingers.

"It's okay," she said, the smile evident in her voice despite Harry not seeing the curl, "You're so silly, H."

It was the way her voice trailed off, taking on a deeper octave than before, that showed him just how close she was to finding the other side of her eyelids. He instinctively began running his thumb along the ball of her shoulder, a circuit that had him skimming her soft skin with the sleeve of her top pushed out of the way.

There was something about seeing her skin being dented by his touch, a touch that wasn't particularly strong or even rough at all. She wondered if she was able to feel the whorls of his print, the creasing of his knuckle. It was an innocent enough feeling, his hand upon her arm, but he felt his heart beginning to thump. His throat was thick enough he felt his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed.

This was another facet that only took on a life of its own, the casual intimacy that had been sparked between them now that they shared a home. Laying her head on his shoulder in a passing hug, resting her head on his lap, practically asking him to put his hands on her as she was lulled to sleep. Logically, he was sure this was supposed to get easier as it went, the more it happened the magic was supposed to lessen. But, that just didn't happen.

His heart still thumped heavily. His stomach tightened and pitted and warmed. His... well, other parts of him appreciate the touching too, even if he resented focusing on those parts of himself.

It felt more than wrong to acknowledge his baser interests in her, not when she was such a kind and loving friend to him. If that boundary between them was meant to be crossed, there were plenty of times both during their university days and the years that followed, that gave perfect opportunities for that line to be wiped away and crossed in favor of something new. Instead, they were still just friends—best friends, even.

You're not supposed to get hard over your best friend. Not when she was doing nothing but falling asleep in his lap. Not when she was relaxing in her own home in comfortable pajamas—even if they were comprised of a soft t-shirt and pair of shorts just a touch too small that rolled up at the hem, giving more and more skin for his eyes to feast upon. Without a bra, of course. A fact evident in the way her nipples would peak against the material.

No, he was not supposed to be hard over that. Not to mention the glaring fact that she spent nearly every weekend on a date with someone or going out with the express purpose of having fun and meeting other people.

There was also, of course, the most prominent issue: he's a virgin. Even if he somehow managed to see more than just a friendship in him, he would have no idea how to take care of her. (Y/N) was someone who had experienced enough physical affection that she no doubt knew what she enjoyed and what she didn't; there was little to no appeal to teaching the one you're in bed with how to do the most basic of acts.

So he would keep his distance, even if the rest of his body refused to get on the same page.

"Are you okay?"

(Y/N)'s mumbled voice shook Harry from his thoughts. Blinking back to the real world, she was tipping her head up to look at him with sleepy eyes.

"Hm?" he hummed, aware of the way his hand had gone still on her arm and his bones had grown stiff.

"Do you want me to move or something?" she murmured, "So you can get comfortable? Sorry if I made your leg fall asleep."

Harry's skin warmed to a flushing red. Of course, he would grow restless when she was on his mind. Taking stock of his body, at least he knew he wasn't that hard; any longer in his mind and he may have had a problem.

"'S alright, 'm alright," he rushed out, "Jus' think 'm getting tired. Sorry."

She smiled up at him, her hair haloing around her head in his lap. "It's okay," she laughed, "Do you want to go to bed? We can keep watching tomorrow instead."

That was what he needed at the moment: distance. Some peace and quiet and a moment to get his head on straight. "Let's go to bed," he affirmed, mimicking her soft smile.

Her movements were lethargic as she moved off of his lap. A curling stretch had her raising her arms above her head, the hem of her top lifting just enough to show a sliver of skin above the waistline of her shorts. Harry quickly retracted his eyes, settling his gaze to his feet instead.

Turning to him, with eyes slightly hooded and limbs languid, (Y/N) gave him a smile. "Goodnight, H," she mumbled, "Thanks for making my night better."

Collecting him in her arms, Harry didn't have to think before he was reciprocating her hug. The scent of her perfume twisted around him, stray hairs tickling the tip of his nose. Her words echoed in his head.

He made her night. She made his life.

"Goodnight, (Y/N)," he crooned, melting into her hug for just a moment longer before unwrapping himself from her hold. "'M happy I could help."

Her smile was sweet as she turned on her socked feet towards her bedroom. "See you in the morning."

He watched as she pushed open her bedroom door, her eyes glanced over her shoulder at him. Her pretty, pretty eyes.

"See you in the morning."

With that, the night ended as she closed her bedroom door behind her.

Though she stayed just where she was on Harry's mind.

—————

Harry wiped his hands clean now that the sink was cleared of all dirty dishes. The clock on the stove detailed the time as eleven thirty-two, a half an hour longer than he meant to stay up tonight. But, he supposed that's what happened when he decided to take a nap instead of cleaning up the kitchen after dinner.

Quiet voices sounded through the living room from the show running on the television though Harry didn't pay it any mind as he swept through the space. (Y/N) was out for a girls night, leaving it Harry's turn to take care of the common spaces to ensure neither of them would have to tidy anything in the morning. Plus, he didn't think it would be very nice of him to leave her stumbling over his pile of shoes when she came home after a night of drinking and crashing on a friend's couch.

He could still see traces of her scattered about the space in the form of stray glitters from her outfit, a pair of loose hair ties left on the table by the door, right next to her usual handbag ransacked with only a few random items left in it from the essentials she pulled from it to take out on the town with her. He hoped she was having a fun night—she deserved it.

After cleaning up and turning off the television and lights, Harry retired to his bedroom upstairs. Turning on some music through his headphones, he started on his nighttime routine. It was definitely less extensive than the one he'd seen (Y/N) do night after night, but there were a few serums and techniques he'd stolen from her—including the lavender room spray he was addicted to misting through his room before laying his head down. It turned his dreams decadently sweet, he thought. (Or it could be because he always fell asleep with (Y/N) on his mind, the lavender scent reminding him of her every night without fail).

But, this time, when he laid his head on his fluffed pillow, delicate music filtering through the space from his bluetooth speaker, Harry wasn't ready to go to bed. He had known the evening nap he took wasn't the smartest idea, leaving his limbs restless and eyes wide open. As soon as he knew (Y/N) was home safe in the morning, Harry planned on running all of the errands he'd pushed off this weekend, and a late wakeup time wasn't going to be the most productive move.

There were only so many things he could think of doing to tire himself out. Scrolling on his phone was a no-go considering how he knew the blue-light would only urge him to stay awake, his book was too riveting to be a useful bedtime story, and going for a run this late wasn't the best option. He just needed to tire himself out.

Fitting his bottom lip between his teeth, Harry figured there was another option.

He wasn't quite in the mood at the moment, he could put himself there he figured. He doubted it would take much work, really.

As if this were a laborious task, Harry kicked his comforter from his hips with a sigh. He reached for his phone on instinct, opening up a familiar application to help color his imagination. Without much ceremony, he pushed his sweats down just enough to fit his hand down his underwear. He would do this quickly, he decided; fast and hard, to put him to sleep sooner rather than later.

It didn't take long to feel himself harden in his grasp, photos and videos of various couples wrapped around one another and those in solo situations fueling his head. His breathing grew heavy in his chest, mouth falling open as a particularly titillating video of a woman with her hands between her legs filled his screen.

With the audio still playing, Harry's head fell back against the pillows. His eyes fell closed, a sigh leaving his lips. Pulling his hand from his length, he brought the appendage to his mouth before spitting against his palm. With his hand now slick, the wet pumps of his fist along his cock now filled the air. His toes curled in his sheets, free hand tightly gripping his phone.

While it wasn't something he wanted to do, it was terribly easy to let his mind wander to the pretty girl that had left him home alone tonight. The fit of her dress had been hard enough to process when he was clear minded, now that was a nearly impossible task.

The dress was new, a silky piece with embroidered flowers and thick straps cuffing her shoulders. It was tight along the bodice, cupping her breasts and curve of her waist before flaring out along her hips. The hem cut off at the mid of her thigh, leaving the length of her legs on display down to the comfortable shoes she chose for the night. (The high heels from the weekend prior had been shoved to the back of her closet for the time being, the blisters on her feet enough to have her avoiding them at the moment).

It was a terrible, horrible, repulsive thought to have about his roommate, but Harry knew that all it would have taken was a bend of her hips and he would have seen the curve of her bottom. If he had been bold enough to look, he was sure he would have caught a glance down the bodice of her dress when she came to him to say goodbye for the night.

His cock twitched at the reminder of her body pressed against him when she hugged him goodbye. If he was a different man and they were in a different situation, he would have grabbed her hips and held her close. He would have found the line of her panties through her dress, felt the curve of her bottom over the silk.

He liked to imagine she would hold him back, that she would lean into the angles and muscles of his body. He could see her tipping her head, leaving him the room to drop his lips over the curve of her neck and shelf of her collarbone.

He liked to imagine her wanting him back. That he would be able to satisfy her and take her expertly, tying her to him as he pushed his hand between her legs—or, god, his head—and brought her to the edge. What he wouldn't give to know what the melody of her voice sounded like when steeped in pleasure.

Harry pumped his hand that much harder along his length, the put of his stomach growing tight like the thick bands of muscles on his thighs. His breathing was harsh, wheezing out against his clenched teeth.

"Fuck," he panted, hips bucking against his hand when he thought of what could have happened had he pushed (Y/N)'s dress up to her middle. Precum dribbled from his tip, streaking down to his shaft and mixing with the slick of his spit.

He was going to cum, he could feel it. His muscles were bunched tight, eyes screwed shut with his own personal pornography projected against his eyelids.

"Harry, are you awa—Oh! Oh my god, bye!"

In a second, Harry snapped from the throes of pleasure just to see the tail-end of (Y/N)'s silken dress flashing out of his doorway. Behind her, his door slammed shut, cutting her words in half.

She wasn't supposed to be home. She was supposed to be spending the night at Rue's house. What was she doing here?

Oh, god—fuck—she's home. (Y/N) came home and saw him jerking himself off to the thought of her. Shit, fuck, shit.

His movements were fumbling and disjointed as he pulled his pants back up and attempted to wipe his hand of the evidence against a dirty t-shirt that should have been in his hamper. Jesus Christ, what the fuck was he thinking? He was so lost in his head, he didn't even hear the door open? Didn't hear her footsteps stomping up the stairs?

Was he supposed to talk to her? Or were they supposed to avoid each other until someone inevitably broke the lease and they never spoke to one another ever again?

The latter option hurt his chest, but the former cast his body in a sweat.

He sat on the edge of his bed, eyes trained on the floor beneath his feet.

Why couldn't he have just gone to sleep? Why did he have to take that nap and leave him thinking he needed to tire himself out? Why did this have to happen?

Did she know he was thinking of her? He wasn't entirely mindful of his words, had he let out a call of her name? How long had she been home before she barged in?

Harry hung his head, shaking his head as he attempted to spool himself back in. If not for the fact that he was concerned about the fact she'd made her way home instead of staying with her friends, he's sure he would have spent the entire night hiding in his home. But, unfortunately, his heart still beat for her and he needed to know that she was okay, at the very least.

Summoning the courage, Harry stood from his seat at the edge of her bed, his hands shaking before curling into fists. They were best friends—she'd seen him with his head hung over the toilet with chunks being hurled from his mouth, with greasy limp hair until he figured out the right products for his strands, the puffy-eyed, snot-nosed sobs he let out when he failed his first mid-term their entry year of university. There were few more embarrassing situations to be found in.

He was telling himself that, anyway.

Steeling himself, Harry moved to push open his door and seek out (Y/N) only to be stopped in his tracks when he ran right into her.

"Harry!" she bubbled, wobbling in her spot as she reached out to grab his arms. She steadied herself with the grip. "Are you okay? Sorry, I didn't know you were there."

It was then that he noticed the slur to her words. Her eyes, ever pretty and with only remnants of mascara remaining, were glassy. More than being startled as she ran into him, she had reached for him to keep her steady on her feet. She smelled of perfume, a dark bar's worth of smoke and cologne, and the sting of alcohol.

"'M alright," he mumbled, reaching for her arm across his chest as he scrutinized "Are you?"

"Mhm," she hummed, blinking up at him, "Are you?"

A small smile touched the corner of his mouth. She almost made it easy for him to forget what had happened just moments earlier. "'M alright," he repeated, "I didn't know y'were coming home tonight."

"Oh yeah. I was supposed to," she sighed as if there was a length of story behind her words, "But, Rue got busy, so Kim said I could stay at hers, but honestly I just wanted to come back to you. I felt bad leaving you to have dinner by yourself, and I missed you so I just had her boyfriend drop me off here."

God, had his blunder even happened? Hearing her say I missed you so flippantly all while clutching his arms and blinking right up at him was enough to bring him to his knees. She wasn't acting at all like she'd just walked in on his private moment.

"Oh," he sounded, finding his words, "I hope I didn't make y'feel like y'needed to come back."

She shook her head before he even finished talking. "No, no, no. I wanted to come home—I wanted to be with you. I wish you'd come out with us sometime, you'd have so much fun."

While Harry was reeling over her words, the sentiments she was sharing so freely, (Y/N) traipsed past him. The ghost of her grip on his arms stuck around in the moments after she left him behind to approach his bed. He turned to face her with his lips rolled between his teeth in an effort to keep anything embarrassing from spilling off his tongue, only to see her slipping off her shoes.

She left them in an unceremonious pile by his bed when she caught him looking. "What?"

"What—um—what are you doing?" He hoped he didn't sound as rude as he did in his head. Truly, he didn't know what she was doing, beginning to shed the night while in his room.

Unabashedly, she looked up at him with a flutter of her lashes. "Can I stay here with you? Like a sleepover?"

His heart stopped in his chest only to leap up to the base of his throat. "A sleepover?"

"Yeah," she sighed, pulling at the hem of her dress, "Is that okay?"

Logically, with how intoxicated she was, it was the safer option to keep her with him tonight. In case anything were to happen, of course.

(There was everything else bubbling in his stomach, too. All the bubbles popping with whispers urging him on to keep her just where she was amongst all of his things, where he can take care of her.)

"Y'can stay," he murmured, offering a soft smile as he gazed at her. "Do y'want me to grab some clothes for you?"

"Sure," she chirped, already blindly dealing with her hair, "Thank you, Harry."

He gave her another smile before he left towards her bedroom a floor below. Somehow, within the confines of his home, fresh air entered his lungs and cleared his middled head. Being around her right now was making Harry feel just as drunk as she actually was.

Maybe she hadn't seen what he was doing when she walked in? While he couldn't imagine he wasn't being completely obvious with his hand at his groin and head thrown back, she may have been too drunk to realize what he was doing. Otherwise, Harry just couldn't fathom how he was being so normal afterwards—asking if she could have a sleepover in his room, even.

Pulling out a set of pajamas from the stack of laundry on the end of her bed, Harry tried not to dwell as he started back up the stairs to his bedroom. If she didn't want to talk about it, neither would he. (If he had any luck on his side, she might not even remember what she may or may not have seen. The memory might be one of the few that went fuzzy for her).

Heading back into his bedroom, (Y/N) was sat crossed legged on his bed, eyes decidedly much heavier than when he had left her. Her hair was now tied up and out of the way of her face, shoes and socks in a messy pile on his floor. She perked up when he entered, eyes brightening though still glassy and tired.

"You're back! You were gone for so long, I was scared you forgot I was home."

Harry could only laugh at her declaration. How could he ever forget about her, let alone when she was asking to spend the night in his bed?

"Couldn't forget about you," he admitted, his smile soft as he dropped his eyes from hers, "I hope these are alright to sleep in."

He passed off the sleep clothes he picked for her, watching as she unfurled the pieces without even looking at them. "They're perfect, H. Thank you so much."

Standing up from her spot on his bed, she didn't hesitate before wrapping him in a hug. Harry stood motionless for a brief moment, attempting to process the affection. All while clad in the tiny dress he had just been fantasizing about barely twenty minutes prior, the full of her soft body was pressed against his.

Would he ever not react like a teenager with a crush when it came to her? How much longer would he feel with the racing heart and sweaty palms until his instincts caught up with the reality of her disinterest in him in that way?

Reciprocating her hold, Harry hugged (Y/N) to his chest. She all but melted into him, the effect of the alcohol in her system weighing her down (though he would like to imagine it was because she liked holding him as much as he did her). He was sure she could feel the rapid beat of his heart under her cheek—hopefully a distraction from the touch of his unsure hands hovering across her back.

"You're so warm," she mumbled against the material of his shirt, the words slurred and nearly unintelligible. "You should've come out with me tonight; I forgot my jacket but I would have at least had you."

Harry's fingers tensed over her back. The pumps of his heart throbbed down to his fingertips, his lashes fluttering in a blink. She had to stop talking like that; he was already well into losing his mind over her, there was no need to keep piling it on.

"Sorry," he breathed, the word feeling lame as it fell from his tongue.

He made no move to recoil from her until she did, making the first move to unwrap her arms from around his middle. His eyes followed her as she focused then on trudging to his bathroom and dressing for the night. She tossed a noncommittal promise to be right back over her shoulder before disappearing behind his bathroom door.

Left alone, Harry sat on the edge of his bed. He looked at the floor to where her mess of discarded accessories lay in a rumpled pile, a visible cue of her presence.

She'd never asked to stay in his bedroom like this before. Even on other nights where she clamored home with alcohol in her blood, she'd never stumbled into his room with the intention of having a "sleepover" with him.

But, of course, the one night she does, is when she walks in on him with his hand down his pants.

The reminder of the moment had a heavy sigh heaving his chest. He wished he was just as drunk as (Y/N), that way he had a chance of possibly forgetting the incident in the morning. Instead, he had a feeling he was going to be dwelling on it for at least another week, if not more. On the plus side, it didn't appear she had any intention of talking to him about it.

In a clumsy string of movements, (Y/N) made her entrance back into his bedroom with a strong swing of the door. Her clothing was rumpled as she padded across the floor on bare feet. She only barely acknowledged him before she threw herself onto his bed.

Harry let out a breathy laugh. "Do y'want anything to drink or eat before y'fall asleep?"

"No," she moaned, wriggling her way into his bedding. "Tired."

"Do y'need to take off your makeup?" he pressed, standing to help her adjust the layers of sheets and comforter over her form.

"I already did," she countered, tugging the bedding up to her chin as she gazed up at him. Truthfully, he couldn't tell if she really did remove her makeup given the shadows still around her eyes, but if that's the story she was going with, he wasn't arguing.

"Alright," he sighed, knotting his hands together as he stood beside his bed as if it wasn't his own, "Y'really want to have a sleepover tonight?"

(Y/N) didn't even blink before she was nodding her head. "Yeah. Your bed is bigger than mine."

Harry hummed, now seeing the root of her new fascination with spending the night with him. "And y'want me to stay with you?" he asked, wanting to ensure they were both on the same page.

"Duh," she laughed, turning until she was comfortable with her head on the pillow he'd just been laying against. "Lay down, we're supposed to talk before we fall asleep like a real sleepover."

While he found humor in the whole situation, his hands still held a slight tremor as he turned down his side—his side—of the bed.

Was this how he was supposed to do this? How did one share a bed? Other than true sleepovers as a kid, where he and friends would squeeze into beds too small after staying up way too late, there was never a time he'd shared a bed with another. Especially not so with someone he held... extra feelings for. Feelings that he hadn't quite shaken if the way his briefs were just a touch tighter than they should be was anything to go by.

Working on autopilot, Harry slid into bed. He could feel the dip in the mattress from (Y/N)'s body, a certain warmth spreading across his sheets he'd never experienced before. The scent of her night still clung to her, though now the fragrance of fresh sheets and Harry's own cologne swirled between them. Sleepy blinks were offered to him as he stiffly laid among his bedding, (Y/N)'s tired eyes trained on him.

He swallowed, feeling the weight of her attention on him. "What are y'th—"

His line of questioning was cut off when (Y/N) sloppily rolled towards him, lying flush against the line of his body. She molded herself to him with a sigh, her head snuggled into the cove underneath his chin.

"What did you do tonight?" were her mumbled words, slurred and fuzzy against his neck.

Harry, stunned for the moment, laid still. Those moments with her head laying on his lap or a press of their shoulders together could do nothing to prepare him for this. (Y/N)'s slight shuffle against him was enough to knock him back to earth, his limbs carefully laying around her in a delicate hold.

"Um, what?" Harry asked, mind having been wiped of the last handful of minutes.

"What did you do while I was gone?"

"Oh," he sounded, aware of the way his arm fell across the curve of her waist and smooth planes of her back he could feel through her top, "Nothing really; jus' took a nap and cleaned the kitchen. Nothing exciting—not like you, it sounds like."

(Y/N) hummed from her hiding place in his neck. "Nothing exciting at all?" she sang, a teasing lilt to her drunken voice.

Harry swallowed. She wasn't hinting at anything in particular, right?

"I mean, I started a new book before I took m'nap," he hedged, eyes stuck on the concert poster he had pasted to his wall. "But that's really it."

She shifted in his hold, pulling out of his arms just enough to look up at him. Her eyes were still swimming and glossy, but she didn't shy away from his gaze. There was a small tick at the corner of her lips.

"Are we not going to talk about it? Because we don't have to, I just want to know."

His muscles wound tight as he listened to her. She kept her voice decidedly quiet, as if there was anyone else around that could overhear.

Were they going to talk about it? That wasn't really a decision Harry wanted to make, but he couldn't turn away the option now that it was served up to him.

"Um," he fumbled, his mouth lagging behind his racing mind, "I—Uh—I... 'M sorry."

Canting her head, (Y/N) blinked at him. "Sorry?"

His throat bobbed, tongue suddenly too thick in his mouth. "'M sorry, I... I didn't know y'were coming home, I wouldn't have... you know. I didn't mean for you to see or... hear."

Please god, he hoped she hadn't heard a thing—that he said or thought.

(Y/N)'s features cracked into a smile when she finally processed what he'd said. It only took a moment for that smile to bloom into a peal of laughter.

"Harry, it's not that serious," she got out in-between giggles, "You didn't do anything wrong—it's not like I don't think you do that kind of stuff. I just didn't know if we were going to ignore that I walked in or if we were going to laugh about it. You're not supposed to be sorry for anything; I should have knocked, anyway."

Harry's mouth went dry. He wasn't sure what kind of reaction this was. Was this only because of the vodka in her system? Or was she really this comfortable with the events of the evening? If it were the other way around, Harry didn't think he would be able to speak let alone laugh at the situation for at least a whole week.

(Though that could be entirely attributed to the fact that he had that thorny crush on her stuck to the chambers of his heart).

The lump in his throat cracked and allowed a breathy laugh to come through after a heartbeat. Maybe she was right, it wasn't that serious. It's not like she could have known he was thinking about her. They were both adults, people who were more than able and accustomed to pleasuring their bodies—there was no reason to be weird about it if she wasn't going to be.

"Jus', should have locked m'door at least," he laughed, joining her as he sagged into the mattress.

"Yeah," she pressed, settling against him once more now that the seal was broken between them, "I always lock my door, you're too brave."

He hoped she didn't notice the way his hands pulsed when she so casually brought up her own moments in her bedroom. He wasn't strong enough to broach that subject just yet.

"Maybe," he agreed, "Sorry, anyway. Not the nicest thing to come home to, that's for sure."

"I mean," (Y/N) started, her voice breathy as she sunk into his arms, "It wasn't that bad. More embarrassing for you than anything else, I bet."

The laughter from his chest died down then. His brain caught on her words. "Not that bad?" he parroted, unsure of what or why he was even asking.

"I mean, you're cute, H. You know that," she said oh-so casually. "I feel bad I walked in and scared you, but I can't act like it was the absolute worst moment of my life or something." She spoke with amusement, a touch of laughter carrying out her words as if this was all so easy.

"Oh," Harry started, swallowing around his dry throat, "Y'think 'm cute?"

She rolled into him, tucking herself against him once more. Harry didn't doubt that she was well acquainted with the pounding of his pulse at this point. "Of course I do, you know that. You're, like, the cutest guy I know. I mean," she sighed, voice slurring even more with the dredges of sleep tugging at her words, "you didn't have to stop earlier, if you didn't want to. I could've helped."

Harry's body stopped working in that moment. Time was moving too fast around him while he was seemingly stuck in that moment.

What? Is that a normal thing to say? Is this what happens when you share a bed with someone, even if they were only a friend?

His palms grew clammy. "What do you mean?"

"You know," she yawned, "Just... I know you don't go on dates or bring anyone home or anything, so I could help you if you ever wanted. You're too cute to be by yourself, H."

What the fuck? What was even happening at the moment? Was he delusional? Or dreaming so intensely he couldn't be sure if it was real or not? But he swore, crossing his heart and all, that this was real and completely happening all while (Y/N) was tucked in his arms with her mouth hovering by his throat.

And she was offering to jerk him off sometime. Because he was too cute to do it by himself.

What the fuck?

"(Y/N)?"

Harry received no answer. Her chest pressed against his and receded in even paces, puffs of air fanning across the slope of his neck.

Staring once more at the poster on his wall, Harry didn't feel a single sleepy bone in his body. If he had thought he was restless before, there was no way he was getting any sleep tonight.

—————

Exhaustion shackled his limbs as Harry moved through the kitchen. Just as he figured, there wasn't more than an hour of sleep in his system, his mind running too fast to allow him any kind of relaxation. Not when there was the extra presence in his bed.

By the time the sun cracked through his curtains and (Y/N) had rolled to show her back to him, Harry forced himself out of bed. He doubted she was going to have an easy wakeup after the night she'd had, and he was already in shambles, making breakfast essential for the both of them to get through the morning hours.

That didn't make it any easier, though. A large part of him wanted to stay tucked amongst his sheets, cozy and warm with the best view he could imagine available just before him. Despite that urge, a smaller part of him was still drenched in the complication that came with the slurred words she offered just before dozing off.

First of all, he wasn't sure if he was supposed to be embarrassed that she noticed he'd never really dated before and definitely never brought home anyone. It was bad enough that he was well aware of his lack of dating and sex life, he wasn't comforted at the idea of (Y/N) taking note. Second, what did it even mean to be too cute to be by himself? It brought a flush to his cheeks, the implication. But, was it really a compliment to be cute? He'd never heard (Y/N) describe any of the people she was interested in as cute; they were always pretty, and glowing, and handsome, and—of course—hot as fuck.

Harry didn't want to know where he placed on her scale of attractiveness.

Then, lest he forget, there was the whole offer of her taking care of him. If he ever wanted, of course.

Even just the memory of her words was enough to have his limbs going robotic as he moved through the kitchen. He was going to burn his croissant if he wasn't careful. It was enough to even overshadow the moment she had walked in on him, it was that monumental to him.

But, Harry had a feeling that she wasn't going to remember much of the night before, let alone a throwaway comment right before falling asleep. And that was going to be better for the both of them.

Once he had twin plates of scrambled eggs with cheese, buttery croissants, and cut up fruit, he was daring to step back up the stairs to his bedroom. He felt like an intruder, knowing (Y/N) was still asleep, wrapped up in his bedding. Even if it was to wake her for breakfast, he felt reluctant to pull her from much needed rest.

Though, as soon as he pushed open the door, Harry realized he wasn't going to have to worry about waking her up. Not when she was already looking at him, blinking the sleep out of her eyes with the creases of his pillow etched in her cheek.

"Harry," she sighed, bringing a hand up to rub at her eye, "You're awake."

"You're awake," he parroted, "I didn't think I'd see y'until this afternoon."

She nodded absently, missing the amusement in his voice. "Me neither. Where did you go? I thought you'd left me here."

It was the pout on her face and the downward lilting of her voice that had him taking a step towards his bed. "'M sorry," he murmured, feeling guilt pinch at his heart, "I was jus' downstairs making dinner. I was about to come get you and see if y'were hungry."

"Breakfast?" she chirped, waking up that much more at the offer of food.

"Eggs and those croissants," he confirmed, words coming out in a song as he tempted her with the offer.

"That sounds so good, thank you," she muttered, voice genuinely warm as her gaze wrapped around him from across the room, "Will you come lay with me for a few more minutes, though? I don't want to get up yet."

"I can bring your plate up here, if y'want," Harry offered, though they both saw him taking those quiet steps towards her.

(Y/N) simply shook her head. "Just you."

Those two syllables launched him back to the night prior, where she couldn't continue her night without telling him just how much she had wanted only him through her night of bar hopping. Just him—the one on her mind, supposedly. He was too cute to be by himself.

Harry didn't respond before he was slipping into bed beside her, taking up the dented spot where his body had laid stiffly the night before. She took her spot against his form wordlessly, as if it were a part of the norm to snuggle up to him in the morning.

"Thank you for letting me sleep in here last night," (Y/N) murmured, her chest expanding against his as she peered up at him through her lashes, "I know I was kind of a mess."

"No, no," he shook his head, "Y'were jus' fine. 'M happy y'came home instead of staying somewhere y'didn't want to."

A small peal of laughter fanned across his skin. "I think everyone was getting annoyed anyway," she started, "I kept telling them that I shouldn't have left you home alone, so I think they were ready for me to just go back."

Harry could feel his skin going warm. With his eyes closed, he attempted to keep his breathing from hitching. She was going to kill him one of these days.

"Y'dont' have to worry about me when y'go out, (Y/N)," he insisted, voice as quiet as the grazing of his hands across her back. "'M fine, you go have fun."

If not for the fact he was hyper aware of her body and just how close she was, he doubted he would have noticed the small shift she made across the sheets to land further in his arms.

"You're just," she sighed, pausing between her words, "I don't want you to feel left behind or lonely. You're a good friend and you deserve to have fun and feel good."

Her proposition that he had pushed to the back of his mind was suddenly roped right to the front. Of course, there was the damper of being such a good friend to her that she felt this way, but there was the rest of the statement to contend with first.

"I—um—'M fine, (Y/N). Really. 'M actually pretty good company, if y'ask me." He had hoped she would join him when he let out a breathy laugh, but he made the only sound in the room.

The pause lasted just long enough Harry wondered if (Y/N) had fallen asleep again before he heard her voice:

"Like last night?" His heart all but stopped in his chest. For the second time in the last twenty-four hours, time seemed to stand still while everything in his body went into overdrive.

She wasn't supposed to remember that. She was supposed to be too plastered to remember anything, let alone the one moment with her he's ever regretted. What was he supposed to say to her? Was she teasing him, was he disgusted now that she was sober enough to have an opinion, was this one big joke that he was going to hav—

"(Y/N), I—" He started unraveling himself from her before she popped up with wide eyes.

"No, no, I'm sorry," she rushed out, "That wasn't—I'm not trying to—I'm not making fun of you or, I don't know. I just mean..." She looked at him with uncertain crinkles by her eyes, her lips pursed as if she wanted to speak but had to hold back.

"'M fine," he started again, sitting up amongst the rumpled bedding, "'M sorry if I ma—"

"Do you remember what I said last night?"

As soon as the question tumbled from her lips, Harry swore the room became five degrees hotter.

"Do you remember?" he attempted to joke, though neither of them cracked a smile.

She gave a nod. "About... you know. I could... help, if you wanted. So you're not by yourself."

His mouth ran dry. There was much more power to the offer in the light of the morning with (Y/N)'s clear eyes directed to him. There was no slur of alcohol to her voice or liquid to her bones.

She was entirely serious. So serious, she was asking him again.

"You don't have to do that, (Y/N)," he murmured, dropping his gaze from hers. This was too much, to have to decline her—decline her pity offer after walking in on him with his hand down his pants the night before. "Really, 'm alright. I have no problem being... by myself."

(Y/N) looked away with her lips rolled between her teeth. "I know I don't have to, but I want to. You deserve someone to look after you the way you look after me."

"I don't think I look after you quite like that, though," he tired again, his light-hearted tone attempting to ease the tension. (Y/N) didn't grab the lifeline.

"At least let me set you up with someone then?" (Y/N) offered this time, "I want you to meet someone you care about, then. At the very least, then we could double date."

"I really... I don't want anyone. I'm okay." Anyone, but her was the right thing to say, but that wasn't something he was willing to admit at the moment.

"There's this girl I know, though," she chattered off, suddenly coming to life, "You would really get along with her, H. She's super pretty, she's tall, and I don't think she likes Italian food, but we could work on—"

"'M really okay, ser—"

"No, H, she always loves reading—it's actually kind of funny how much she talks about all these books and—"

Harry felt his stomach beginning to twist and turn. She could be the nicest woman in the world, this friend of hers. But there were many reasons why he was never going to take (Y/N) up on this offer.

Starting with the fact that the one girl he had his eye on was right in front of him, and ending with the glaring truth of his virginity. He doubted (Y/N) or any of her friends like her were going to be very invested in that.

"And, not to get gross, but she's super hot. Like her body, H, you have to see her—"

"I'm a virgin."

A flush ran up his skin, blooming his veins and reddening his skin. Why did he say that? Why did he share that? Is he suddenly an idiot? Was he now lacking a verbal filter and had to say everything that came to mind?

At the very least, (Y/N) finally stopped. The many wonderful and hot attributes of her friend had stopped. There was only a blanket of silence floating between them now.

His heartbeat sounded in his ears before (Y/N) had any kind of reaction

"Oh," was all that fell from her lips.

Peeking through his lashes, he was waiting for her to recoil. To look at him a little funny—the way the few that had learned that information looked at him. That moment of questioning how someone could have avoided sex (as if that was what he was up to), then wondering if there was something wrong with him, if there was something hiding under his skin that he was unwilling to share. Most people tried to recover as quickly as they could, brightening and telling him that it was alright. Plenty of people were waiting until marriage, they couldn't blame him of course!

It was an uncomfortable conversation, one Harry let the other party lead. He never really felt like getting into the why's and the moments that he decided to turn down a potential warm bed. Or why it wasn't within his capabilities to have sex outside of a relationship with trust in the mix, or the fact that he'd never been in a relationship that met those qualifications.

But, (Y/N) didn't do that. She looked at him with appraising eyes, not in search of something wrong. She looked at him like there was so much to be seen, to the point she couldn't believe it just because he was... him.

"I didn't know that," she muttered, canting her head, "I always just kind of figured that you weren't." Her eyes widened then. "Wait, I've said so many things, why did you never correct me?"

Harry shrugged, the sheets rustling around him. "I know 's not... normal, so I jus' don't really talk about it. 'S easier if I jus' let y'assume."

Her expression fell a little then. "I hope I never made you feel like you couldn't tell me," her eyes were soft as she gazed at him, "You know it didn't change anything to me, right?"

A small smile cracked his lips. "Thanks."

She relaxed a touch then, her muscles untensing from the tension he injected with his admission. "Is it weird to ask you why? Like, why you've waited and everything?"

"I wouldn't really say I've waited," he clarified, "I jus'... I've met people I wanted to be with and all of that, and I've had opportunities but I didn't take them." He paused, rolling his lips between his teeth; this was one of the harder bits to admit. It sounded silly even to his own ears, even if it was something he believed in. "I've never had anyone I trusted enough to share that... experience with. So I've just never."

(Y/N) listened intently, eyes clear with a cant to her head. God, even with the harsh beating of his heart as he exhumed his secrets, she really was the absolute prettiest.

"I get it," she muttered, "It's easier to wait than to spend the rest of your life regretting it."

"Exactly," he exaggeratedly murmured, "'S like y'live in m'head, (Y/N)."

His attempt at joking was enough to pull a small laugh from her chest. (Y/N) relaxed further into his bed, carving a dent into his mattress just at his side. Finally, that comfortable silence he lived in with her returned.

He couldn't believe he'd been so flighty about this whole thing. This wasn't one of the things he needed to be nervous about, not compared to what she had walked into last night. And even that incident was less earth shattering than he made it out to be.

(Y/N)'s tone was much less trepidatious when she spoke again, a decided difference than even a moment before. "Have you done anything else, though? Or have you waited for the whole thing?"

"Haven't done anything," he responded, with a heaving sigh, "'M waiting on the whole experience I guess."

"With someone you trust."

A small smile bloomed over his features. "With someone I trust."

A beat of silence passed between them. (Y/N) fiddled with the comforter tangled at her waist. "Can I ask you one more thing?"

Harry hummed an acknowledgement. He should have agreed to get back into bed with her, he was beginning to consider leaving breakfast for this afternoon in favor of a quick nap.

"Do you trust me?"

It was the way she said it less than the actual words she said that had a pang echoing through Harry's chest. Of course, he trusted her; she was his best friend. Though, Harry doubted that was what she was trying to get at.

He gave a small confirmation in the form of a quiet yes.

(Y/N) twisted in the sheets, looking up at him with clear eyes. Her lips glistened, the tip of her tongue having grazed over the pillows. "I know you said you're waiting and everything, but if you wanted to... change that, and you trust me...we could do whatever you wanted."

As startling as the proposition was last night, this one inspired a twist in his stomach. This wasn't a drunken idea gone rogue. She was looking at him with a steady gaze and lips worried between her teeth. She was serious. She wanted to "do whatever" he wanted. With him.

Despite there being no visible traces of pity on (Y/N)'s face, he truly could barely fathom the idea of her offering herself up to him so willingly. Especially after learning that there would be little he could offer in return—his skills were more than lacking.

"(Y/N), you don't want to do that," he started, "'M alright, I d—"

"I do," she cut him off, the words tumbling from her mouth without thought, "I do want to, I mean. You know I care about you right, Harry?"

His mouth ran dry. "I know."

A small smile touched her mouth. "You don't have to, obviously. I just wanted you to know that if you ever don't want to wait or kind of just want to get the pressure out of the way, I'm here."

Was Harry going to explode? Was he going to flick through the room like a balloon deflating of helium? Or was his stomach going to swallow him whole and leave behind only the sticky tar of his feelings?

And she was being so casual about it. She offered it as if there was no gravity to her words.

"You don't have to say anything, though. Just remember that," she said with a soft smile, sitting up in bed with eyes on the door, "You said break—"

"I want to."

As soon as the declaration choked out of his throat, Harry wanted to cringe. He wanted to retract every breath, every thought, every twist of his tongue against his teeth that brought him here. Sure, she was offering, but there was such a thing as being over eager.

(Y/N) paused, glancing back to him. A light graced the hue of her irises.

"Really?"

He didn't trust himself to say another word. Harry only nodded.

"You don't want to wait, anymore?" she prodded, forgetting the cracked door and the food downstairs.

Now wasn't the time to give her the full list of why this exact moment was a dream come true (just short of having her as his girlfriend and holding her hand as they went to the movies), but she had offered a few good points.

"I mean," he started, swallowing as his eyes dropped to the tip of her nose in avoidance of her eyes, "I do trust you. If there's anyone I know I wouldn't regret sharing this with, 's you."

"I suppose we are best friends," (Y/N) added, layering her voice with a smile, "But, you're sure?"

"I am," he said without a moment of hesitation, "Maybe jus' not... everything? I think that might be a bit much for me."

"Of course, of course," she rushed out, waving her hands as if to wipe the pressure out of the air, "We'll only do what you want."

Maybe Harry was a bit too much of an open book, unable to truly hide whatever it was that was running through his head, but he couldn't help the way his eyes immediately dropped to her hands.

Harry knew just how soft her hands were. He'd seen the hand creams she used every night, and felt the plush skin every time they grazed hands or she made the dangerous decision of just laying a hand on his arm every time he made her laugh just a little too much. There was even once, way back when they'd first started becoming friends, that she had him to compare hand sizes. Even now, he vividly remembered just how soft her palm was against his, the stretch of her fingers that didn't reach up to the tips of his own. It was a memory he held onto and one he couldn't get out of his head at that moment.

He'd thought more than once what it would be like to have her hand on him instead of his own between the sheets. What the visual of her pretty manicured nails, digits of her fingers, the softness of her palm would look like fisted around his length. He didn't have to know to be certain he wouldn't last very long if he ever had the chance to find out.

From the corner of his eyes, he saw the wide smile mold (Y/N)'s features.

"Really?" she coyly asked, stretching out her fingers from the cover of her sleeves.

"Hm?" he hummed, forcing his eyes back to her own.

A peal of laughter fell from her lips as she crawled back to her spot at his side. "My hands. That's all you want?"

His skin felt flush as he nodded, his bottom lip wedged between his teeth. "Only if you want."

She hovered above him, the tips of her hair hanging around them like a curtain. She looked like a dream there, only slats of light working across her face. Shadows sliced over her cheekbones and the length of her lashes with the pretty color of her eyes gleaming in the sun and the curve of her lips highlighted.

He must be dreaming, but he was never this anxious in his dreams. Especially not one so lovely.

"No one's ever done that for you before?" she asked, taking up a spot on the mattress at his side with her eyes grazing over his features.

"Never," he confirmed, feeling his stomach stir at the feel of the heat of her body at his side.

God was this really about to happen?

"You're okay with me being the first?" Her voice suddenly had dropped a few octaves, a murmur in the air between them.

He didn't have to think before he nodded. "I want you to be the first."

Her eyes were bright, sparkling in the slat of light shining through her hair. "Right now?"

"Right now."

She looked entirely too gorgeous to be normal when she smiled at him. "Just show me what you like, then. I'm all yours."

His stiffening cock jumped at her words. She needed to stop talking like that if she didn't want him to embarrass himself.

With that, (Y/N) wiggled her hand under his own on his abdomen, amusement in her eyes. Harry felt his breathing hitch at the simple touch. Just as soft as he thought.

In an effort to preserve some semblance of his sanity, he closed his eyes before wrapping the length of his fingers around her hand. It was a moment, a full heartbeat pounding through his ears, before he pulsed his hand around hers in an affectionate squeeze and traced her hand down his middle.

He could feel the tense of his muscles under his shirt, his legs spreading just that much wider. The ghost of her touch was a stark reminder that he never finished the job last night.

Amongst his rumpled bed sheets, Harry couldn't be sure that this was even real life. Not that he spent any specific amount of time picturing what this first time would be like, but he could admit that he never really thought it would be like this. Not in sweatpants that had a stain from the eggs he had scrambled only twenty minutes prior. Not with his hand being the guiding force down to the waist of his bottoms. Not with (Y/N).

His cock stirred when their joined hands reached the elastic band of his sweatpants. Despite not even feeling her bare skin on his, goosebumps were raised. Was he going to embarrass himself by finishing within seconds? Harry had a feeling that was going to be the scenario at hand.

(Y/N) wiggled her hand out from under his, hooking her fingers in the waist under her own volition. "You're still alright? With all of this?"

"Yeah," Harry breathed out, his voice a hair above a whisper in hopes of disguising the tremor.

"Okay," she said, looking up at him for a brief moment with a reassuring smile, "If you don't want to anymore, though, just let me know. We'll have breakfast and pretend nothing happened."

His heartbeat sped up at her declaration. He knew he could trust her—with his body, with his delicate feelings, with his life, even.

Harry didn't move his eyes from her even when she directed her attention to her hand. He watched her as she pushed his sweatpants down, the band falling just far enough down to hit the end of his boxer-briefs. His mouth fell open as he attempted to gain any insight into what she might be thinking, this being the first time he'd ever been this exposed to anyone before. Even with the layer of his underwear on, he'd never been in front of anyone in an undergarment like this.

(Y/N) didn't give much away, only the cautious pace of her movements indicated the gravity of this moment. She skated her palm over the jut of his hip, easing him into the feel of her touch; he doubted she missed the way his cock jumped. His body reacted readily to each of her touches: goosebumps on his skin, bunched muscles in his abdomen, lungs squeezing in his chest, and the bruising hold of his teeth over his bottom lip.

His hip was only the first step before she continued her path. She grazed the top of his thigh, nails denting into his skin in gentle pressures. His breath caught when she touched the lump of his cock, enough so that his chest shuddered. She lingered there, going so far as to give a slight squeeze, only causing him to harden more in her grip.

"I'm going to put my hand underneath, okay?" (Y/N) shared, voice quiet before he felt the first touch of her fingertips.

"Okay," he answered involuntarily, tongue thick in his mouth. He was so gone for her in the moment, it was hard to think straight.

Harry lifted his hips to help her pull down his briefs, leaving them bunched at the mid of his thighs. His cock bobbed free, flushed and ruddy already. He doubted any other person in the world would have gained a reaction like this one.

This time, he caught (Y/N)'s first real reaction. Her eyes widened, grazing over the length of him as she pulled her bottom lip between his teeth. She laid her hand on his abdomen for a beat, absently curling her fingers in the hem of his shirt she'd only pushed up and out of the way.

Suddenly, she seemingly shook herself out of her head, looking up at Harry with a blink of her eyes.

"Is it alright if I move a little?" she murmured, "I want to get more comfortable, if that's okay."

She asked as if he had the power to deny her of anything, especially something so inconsequential.

As soon as Harry nodded, she shifted at his side. Kicking the comforter off of her legs, she rolled to lay on her side next to him. He instinctively wrapped an arm underneath her, his palm landing just between her shoulder blades. The cuddling felt a little more inconsequential now that she had a hand traveling down his form, even if the feel of her chest pressed against him was enough to have his blood pumping faster.

Now that she was settled, (Y/N) resumed her ministrations with both of their eyes trained on the movement of her hand. Harry swore it was just the fact that she was looking at him at all that had the blurt of precum seeping from his head, a pearl glistening in the morning light.

"Just—um—if I do something you like, tell me and I'll try to keep doing it," she spoke distractedly, a slight rasp to her voice he hadn't anticipated in his fantasies.

His mumble of okay was lost as soon as he saw her bring her hand to her mouth. He watched on as she dragged her tongue across her palm, slicking the skin before wrapping her fist around his base.

"Oh, fuck," he let out, barely audible over the heavy sigh that carried out the words. He fought to keep his eyes open, spying the way (Y/N)'s features curled into a smile with her bottom lip trapped between her teeth.

She did a precursory drag of her hand over his length, the pacing slow and aching. Harry could feel every crease and pillow of her palm. God, she was just as soft as he imagined.

His chest shuddered as he watched her pretty nails sparkling in the light. The pink polish seemingly mimicked the flush of his head, glimmering and sparkling like the slick of her spit over his shaft. If that wasn't bad enough, seeing the fact that her fingers didn't even connect around the girth of him was going to kill him. Were her hands that small or was he bigger than he thought?

As if hearing his thoughts, a mutter came from (Y/N), "You're so big, H. I had no idea."

He wanted to say something (was it corny to say "thank you" to something like that?), instead only a rumbling groan came from his chest. The pillows under his head were the perfect cushions when he couldn't handle keeping it up anymore. He was already flushed and warm, muscles too tight for comfort, and stomach tightening into a burn. And she'd barely even started.

Hearing his reaction was enough to spur her on, dragging her fist over and over his length. Periodically, she swiped her thumb over his crown, spreading the pearls of precum he let out. The slick passes of her hand rang out through his bedroom, competing with the puffs of his heavy breathing as the most erotic sound filtering through his bedroom.

"Ti-Tighter," he choked out, his arm around her back holding her flush to his side.

(Y/N) didn't respond, but he immediately felt the vice of her hand tighten that much more around his length. Another string of curses fell from his lips, his throat thick.

"Is this good?" she asked, turning until she was looking up at him with wide eyes. Her pupils were dilated, darkening the hue of her irises.

Harry wasn't able to think as he looked at her. She was his dream, the ultimate fantasy. Looking up at him with glossy eyes, her manicured hand squeezing around his cock. And for the first time, he noticed she was rubbing her thighs together as she took care of him. His free hand clutched the mess of his sheets; he wouldn't be surprised if he found holes in the fabric later.

"So good," Harry breathed, the words broken on his tongue, "So, so good, (Y/N)."

The smile she gave him was devastating.

Was she crazy? Was she trying to send him over the edge this quickly? He was starting to think so.

"I was going to ask if you wanted it tighter, but I think we've found it," she teased, entirely too light-hearted for one of the most monumental moments of his life.

"Y-Yeah," he answered, feeling delirious, "(Y/N), I-I'm close. 'M sorry."

"Why are you sorry?" she asked, a pinch appearing between her brows, "This is about you, you don't have to be sorry. Cum whenever you want—as long as you feel good, I don't care."

Her pace was unrelenting, the slap of her hand hitting his base mimicking the beat of his heart.

"Fuck, (Y/N)," he muttered, voice strained, "Let me—I don't want to make a m-mess on you, I can grab—"

She shushed him, shaking her head against his chest. "I can handle a little mess, H, it's okay. Stop thinking about me, this is about you."

Stop thinking about me, as if that were ever an option for him.

Still the sentiment stuck the same, especially her willingness to allow him to leave any kind of mark on her, including one so primitive.

He spared a glance down at her. Her features were mostly hidden give the angle and the wisps of her hair in the way, but he could still see the flutter of her lashes as she watched herself getting him off, he could see the pinch of her nose and the gape of her lips. He could see her thighs squeezed tightly together, the shirts covering her modesty turning tight and especially short around her hips.

God, this was (Y/N) on him. That was her pretty, soft hand on his length. That was her chest pressed to his ribs, only layers away from feeling the heavy beating of his heart. That was her wrapped up in the sheets holding his scent and so eagerly and happily fisting his cock.

"Shit," he moaned, his voice rumbling and deep as he threw his head back, "(Y/N), 'm cumming, love."

There was a void in the pit of his stomach that tightened and popped in that moment, unraveling him from the inside out. His balls tightened at his base just before the first rope off is cum spurted from his tip. The mess he'd worried about came to life then, white ribbons projecting as far up to the chest of his top, others dripping down his length and further wetting (Y/N)'s hand.

Guileless moans echoed from his chest, filling the room as he came for the first time at the hand of another. His body urged him to close his eyes, the visuals before him being too much for his fragile psyche. But Harry fought the instinct. There was no way he was missing even a single frame of this; there was likely never going to be another time he had the privilege of laying with (Y/N) like this, he wasn't going to let anything get in the way. Including his eyelids.

She didn't slow down as she helped him through the throes, her own breathing turning rough and off-kilter. Her toes curled in her socks, thighs pressed tightly together.

Harry could have been up in the stratosphere for hours with the way he slumped against the bed exhausted by the time the final drop of his release slithered down his cock. (Y/N) slowed, though she kept going until the final aftershock left his spine and Harry had to pull her hand away before he burst into flames.

His breathing came in heavy puffs, lips parted and swollen. He didn't need to see himself to know that his cheeks were cherry red with a nose to match, his curls pasted to his temples with sweat, and his eyes just a bit wild.

Despite pushing her hand out of the way, (Y/N) didn't think before she laced their fingers together. Her touch was a bit sticky now, but there was no way Harry was going to complain. He kept his arm aprons her back tight, fingers denting the soft plane between her shoulder blades.

He could have laid there for days, feeling the warmth of (Y/N)'s body and her soft hand in his. If not for the fact his cum had begun to dry and go cold. At the very least he needed to clean (Y/N) up—he doubted it was good bedroom etiquette to leave her to clean up after his mess.

Forcing his eyes open, Harry blindly reached for the tissue box he kept on his bedside table (truthfully, it was for the hay fever he always seemed to have, but the sheets definitely had their convenient uses. Uses he would never admit to, of course). Reluctantly, he peeled (Y/N)'s hand out of his, wiping the streak of his cum marring her palm.

A breathy giggle fell from her lips.

"What?" he asked, his voice bubbled and cracked.

"Nothing," she smiled, "You're just sweet."

For some odd reason, he flushed harder than he should at something so mundane.

"Thank you," he peeped, cleaning the stray strings that reached up to her wrist.

As soon as (Y/N) was free from the traces of him, he took care of his own thighs and the streaks that hit his shirt. The pile of tissues he had to take to the trash made a little mountain on his bedside table by the time he had himself tucked away and sweatpants laying against his hips once more.

"Um," he started, unsure of what to say after an experience like that. What even qualified as pillow talk, and how did one start it with someone that was just his roommate? "I'll be right back," he settled on, reaching for the mess of tissues, "'M going to cl—"

"Harry."

He didn't think before he looked at her. Her eyes were still full of dilated pupils with swollen lips, but the way she looked at him held more tenderness than he thought capable in a moment like this.

"Stay with me for a second," she requested, her voice a soft coo.

There wasn't a second thought to be had as he listened to her command. If he thought he was gone for her before, that was nothing compared to the endorphins coursing through him every time she looked at him in that moment.

(Y/N) didn't wait before she was rolling to wrap him in a hug. It was a bit awkward, the way she had to stretch up to loop her arms around his neck and the way their legs tangled in the sheets. But it was more than worth it.

Harry had always pictured himself to be the kind of guy that would want a cuddle after sex, but he never could have imagined just how vital this kind of contact would be after something so intense. Despite this being levels below the real act, Harry still clung to her.

Every time his chest inflated with a whiff of her hair and sullied perfume, she deflated with a breath that fanned across his neck. Kicking free of the sheets, (Y/N) opted instead to curl her legs between his in a welcome tangle. Her warmth radiated through the material of her shirt, a soothing heat that brought him back down to earth.

He didn't think before the words were being whispered into her hair: "Thank you."

The smile on her face was audible when she spoke, "You're welcome, Harry."

He couldn't help but squeeze her that much harder. "I'm sorry I can't offer anything in return," he admitted, a frown etching its way onto her lips, "I-I could try, I jus' don't think I'll be very good or—"

She shushed him with a press of her lips to his cheek. It was an act that took his already fragile breathing out of pace once more. The tip of her nose grazed his skin, the plush of her lips hitting right where he knew his dimple to be when he smiled.

"Stop talking," she laughed when she finally—regretfully—pulled away. "This was all about you, Harry. I'm just happy that you felt good, and trusted me enough to let me do this with you. That's all I need."

He could only hug her harder.

Harry would have laid there for hours, happily so, even when he could feel the strength returning to his muscles and the beat of his heart leveling out, but (Y/N) was the first to pull away. She pressed another soft kiss to his cheek before she untangled herself from him.

Her eyes practically glimmered as she looked down at him. "You said there was breakfast downstairs, right?"

That was enough to get a full laugh echoing from his chest, his lungs squeezing in the best way possible.

He was never, ever going to be free of this crush on her. Not now.

—————

pomegranates, an ancient roman wedding gift; the fruit hades offered to persephone to keep her in the underworld. with him.

ahhhhhhh thanl u sm for reading! so sorry for any mistakes, and if you have any fun ideas or anything please send them in!

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evie-sturns · 8 months ago

Text

Friends - Chris Sturniolo

summary: you and chris are friends with benefits until you notice a change in his behaviour, he starts to get angry about how clingy you are.

contains: fwb!chris, arguing, angst, yelling, crying, making out.

--------------------└── •✧• ──┘---------------—-

chris and i have known each other since we were barely able to speak, i've known him my whole life and we've always just. been. friends. until around 8 months ago. i don't even remember how it happened but suddenly his hands were roaming over me, and we fucked.

we both decided after that experience that would be friends with benifets, how could we not after getting a feel for eachother? it was so convinent because i'm always over at their house with nick and matt, they're also my closest friends.

7:39pm

i lay on the sturniolos couch in my small shorts and a tank top, nicks laying beside me as we talk about absolute bullshit.

"nick, you're seriously yapping now" i laugh, "no but tell me thats not the best wednesday video ever, i'm getting matt." he declares, heaving himself up and running out the room, he comes back with matt.

"i will happily cook salmon tomorrow for the wednesday video." matt says with a deadpan face, he speaks like he's being held at gunpoint.

nick claps, "let's go get the shit now" he says with a know it all smile on his face, "dickhead." i scoff to nick, he shrugs with a wide grin.

"you wanna come get the stuff from the grocery store with us?" matt asks, i shake my head "i'm not dressed for the occasion" i joke.

he laughs before grabbing the keys which are attached to his jeans loop, he walks with nick outside, shutting the front door behind him.

i put my phone down on the pillow beside me before standing up, aimlessly walking upstairs.

i open the door to chris's room, "chriss" i say with a smile before entering the room.

"why aren't you with nick and matt." he says, sitting up against his headboard. "hello to you too." i say sarcastically, jumping into bed beside him.

i lay my leg over chris's thigh, my hand reaching out and tracing random shapes on his arm, he pushes me off casually, an awkward silence filling the room.

“can i not touch you now or something.” i say jokingly, chris snaps.

“can you fuck off for once?” he raises his voice, i sit up in bed as my heart thumps. ��what?” i say, slightly shaken up.

“all you do is touch me and be around me,” he starts, my mouth falls open slightly.

“we are FRIENDS with benefits, i don’t know why the fuck you act like we’re together?” he says, emphasising the ‘friends’.

“so for fucks sake, act like it, act like we are normal friends because the only thing different about us is we fuck, nothing. else.” chris finishes before standing up off his bed, walking out of his room and slamming the door behind him.

tears pool in my eyes, first of all he knows i can’t take being yelled at, he also knows that i’ve always been insecure about how clingy i can get.

i didn’t have any friends other than the triplets when i was growing up, they were all i really needed. so i’ve stuck to them majorly,

i always ask nick if i’m coming over too much, and if they want me to stay at my apartment i can, but nicks always shut down that, telling me that he will literally lock all doors so i can’t leave.

but that was just nick, nick wanted me to stay, did chris like me round?

i sit alone on chris’s bed, replaying each word than came out of his mouth over and over in my head.

“i don’t know why the fuck you act like we’re together”

“can you fuck off for once?”

i let out a small sob, tears starting to paint my cheeks. i bring my knees up to my chest as i bury my face in his pillows

i let out shaky breathes, having a poor attempt to calm myself down.

7:46am

i don’t know when i fell asleep, all i know is that i’m slowly starting to wake up in chris’s bed.

his arms are wrapped around me, spooning me as he snores lightly into the back of my neck, i stir as i look down.

i sit up in bed, chris’s arms still on me as he lets out a tired groan. all events of what happened last night start coming back to me. i instantly try to get out of bed but chris has a firm grip around my waist,

“chris, let me go.” i whisper yell, he shakes his head.

i place two hands on his wrists and try to pry them off of me. chris is slowly waking up, i feel tears start to form again, knowing that he most likely had to sleep next to me cause i fell asleep in his bed.

i let in trembling breathes, chris sits up. “sh shh.” he says, pulling me down onto his lap as he sits up against his headboard.

“can i please talk to you.” chris says, his voice hoarse.

“chris.” i say, small droplets of tears rolling down my cheeks as i fight his grip.

“i’m going home now.” i say again, “no you’re not.” chris starts.

“i am so sorry.” chris says, grabbing my face and making me look at him.

“i am so sorry.” he repeats, rubbing my arm with his free hand lightly

“i am so sorry for opening my mouth last night , i am so sorry for making you cry, i am so sorry for walking out of the room, i am so sorry for yelling.”

“i love you so much, more than you understand and there is actually no excuse for what i said, i don’t know why i said it. i have never felt truly loved by someone other than my family so it’s really throwing me off that you want to touch me, you want to be near me.”

“i think i’m so scared of getting to attached to you and then you leaving, because i can’t handle that, i don’t want you to leave, ever.”

he finishes, my tears came to a halt as soon as the words ‘i love you’ left his mouth.

“do you mean it..?” i ask, looking up at chris.

he grabs my jaw staring at my lips,

“chris, i have morning breath.” i laugh slightly

“i do not care at all.” he says, slamming his lips onto mine,

his arms holding me tighter than ever, he doesn’t let me go for the rest of the morning no matter how much i protest.

—————-

#sturniolo #matt sturniolo #chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo x reader #sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x reader #sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo headcanon #chris sturniolo edit #chris sturniolo fic #chris sturniolo fluff #chris sturniolo imagine #chris sturniolo smut

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simplygojo · 3 months ago

Note

ok ive followed you for awhile and i love your writing youre so talented! if youre open to it i wanted to request something. basically my idea was like (aged up) you nobara, yuji, megumi, maki, toge are friends and you play a spicy truth or dare game... basically it ends with crushes confessing their feelings and spicy preferences/kinks and stuff. i was thinking yuji x reader or megumi x reader but anything works. i totally get if you think this is weird and dont want to do it so no worries! - anon <3

Drink, Dare, and Desire

Authors Note: I loved this request!! Thank you so much for your kind words, I really hope you like this and hope it was something along the lines of what you were looking for!

My requests are always open :)

Pairing: Adult/Megumi Fushiguro x f/reader

Word Count : 3.6K

Warnings : 18+ Content, (mild) SMUT! Alcohol Use!

The night was alive with the hum of the city just outside the dorm windows. You, along with Nobara, Yuji, Megumi, Maki, and Toge, were sprawled across the room, the remnants of a half-eaten takeout dinner and a mostly drained bottle of sake scattered between you.

It wasn’t often that you all found time to hang out like this. Between training and missions, these moments of downtime were precious—and apparently, very unpredictable.

“Alright, alright, who’s next for a drink?” Nobara chirped, swirling the sake bottle in her hand, her eyes gleaming with mischievous energy.

Yuji stretched lazily, a wide grin on his face as he glanced around. “Why stop at drinking when we could make it interesting?”

It took less than a second for Nobara to catch on. “Ooh, what are you suggesting?”

Maki, sitting back with her arms folded, raised an eyebrow but didn’t seem opposed. Meanwhile, Toge, his quiet demeanor in stark contrast to the energy around him, gave a casual shrug. It was rare to see him so relaxed, which probably had something to do with the sake flowing freely.

“Truth or dare,” Yuji declared, rubbing his hands together like he was about to unveil some grand plan.

A soft groan escaped Megumi, who had been sitting quietly beside you, a slight frown on his face as he watched the chaotic energy unfold. “This is a terrible idea,” he muttered, though you could sense a slight interest beneath his usual stoic demeanor.

You snorted, nudging him lightly. “Don’t be such a buzzkill, Fushiguro.”

He shot you a sidelong glance, his lips twitching upward for a second before settling back into his familiar expression. But even as he tried to seem unaffected, there was a flicker of curiosity in his gaze. Truth or dare games had a way of revealing more than they were meant to, and maybe, just maybe, you were hoping for exactly that.

Nobara wasted no time, slapping the floor in excitement. “Okay! Yuji, since it was your idea, you go first. Truth or dare?”

“Dare,” Yuji responded instantly, leaning back on his hands, his eyes sparkling with excitement.

Nobara’s grin widened, and you knew from that look she had something ridiculous in mind. “I dare you… to chug your drink, then kiss someone in the circle.”

The room fell into a momentary hush, all eyes darting toward Yuji as his grin faltered for just a second before he leaned forward and grabbed his drink.

His Adam’s apple bobbed as he chugged the remainder of his sake, slamming the cup down with a triumphant look on his face. Without hesitation, he leaned over to Toge, planting a dramatic kiss on his cheek.

Toge raised a brow, his face impassive as always, but there was a flicker of amusement in his eyes. “Salmon,” he said, giving Yuji a light shove, which only made everyone burst out laughing.

Maki shook her head, a small smirk playing on her lips. “Weak.”

“You’re just mad you weren’t the one kissed,” Yuji teased, wiping the corner of his mouth with a grin.

“Dream on, idiot,” Maki shot back, but the playful tension between them was undeniable.

Toge, ever the quiet observer, pointed to you next, his expression calm as he said, “Tuna mayo?”

“Truth,” you answered, deciding to take it easy for now. You could already feel a warmth spreading through you, the sake making everything seem a little hazier, a little more relaxed.

Yuji leaned forward with an eager expression. “Who do you think is the most attractive here?”

A collective groan followed the question, though there was a sense of anticipation hanging in the air. You felt the weight of their stares, especially Megumi’s, whose gaze seemed to pierce through you.

You cleared your throat, trying to play it cool, but you could feel the heat creeping up your neck. “Megumi,” you finally said, the word tumbling out softly, almost shyly.

The room erupted in laughter and teasing remarks, but all you could focus on was the subtle way Megumi’s jaw tightened, his eyes darting away as a faint flush rose to his cheeks.

“Wow, no hesitation,” Nobara teased, nudging Megumi’s arm with her elbow. “Didn’t think you had it in you.”

Megumi grumbled something under his breath, but his usual stoic front was beginning to crack, a small, rare smile pulling at the corner of his lips.

“Alright, alright, moving on,” you said quickly, trying to divert the attention. “Nobara, truth or dare?”

“Dare,” she replied instantly, crossing her arms over her chest with a look that screamed ‘challenge me.’

You bit your lip, thinking for a moment before smirking. “I dare you to tell us one of your kinks.”

Nobara’s eyes widened slightly, her confident facade faltering for just a second before she burst into laughter. “Oh, come on! Alright, fine.” She leaned back, her cheeks flushed—though whether it was from the alcohol or embarrassment, you couldn’t tell. “I like it rough—like really rough.”

The room collectively gasped before bursting into a mixture of laughter and wide-eyed stares. Yuji let out a loud “What?!” while Maki just shrugged with a look that said, Not surprised.

“That’s way too much information,” Yuji groaned, covering his face with his hands while Nobara smacked him on the back.

“What, too much for you, Yuji?” Nobara teased, clearly enjoying the moment. “Maybe I’ll dial it back next time.”

Toge snickered quietly, glancing at Yuji, whose face was flushed for an entirely different reason now.

—

The game continued, each round more daring and revealing. Maki, always calm and collected, had admitted that she preferred someone who could challenge her both physically and ‘test her limits.’

Toge, while still being mostly silent, revealed through hand gestures and a few simple words that he liked to be taken control of and bossed around—makes sense given his cursed speech ability.

Yuji, with his usual lack of filter, shared a little too much about his curiosity in trying anything—and he meant everything—at least once, leaving Nobara shaking her head and everyone else laughing.

By the time it was Megumi’s turn again, the air in the room felt charged, the stakes higher now that almost everyone had bared more than just their emotions.

Maki’s sharp gaze landed on Megumi, and you could practically see the gears turning in her mind. “Alright, Fushiguro, truth or dare?”

He looked almost bored, but you could tell he was being careful. “Dare.”

A slow, almost wicked grin spread across Maki’s face. “I dare you to kiss y/n.”

Your heart nearly stopped. The laughter and chatter from the others faded into the background as you locked eyes with Megumi. His expression didn’t change, but you noticed how his eyes darkened slightly, like he was weighing his options.

The whole room seemed to still, waiting for his next move.

Without breaking eye contact, Megumi stood up, moving toward you with a calmness that belied the tension swirling around him. Every step he took seemed deliberate, and you could feel the heat rising to your face as the distance between you closed.

He stopped right in front of you, so close you could feel the warmth of his body, the scent of his cologne mixed with the alcohol in the air. His voice was low when he spoke, meant only for your ears. “Are you okay with this?”

You could barely nod, your breath hitching as he leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss that started soft, almost teasing.

But when you responded, pressing into him, the kiss deepened, the intensity building between you until all the nerves and tension melted away. His hand slipped to your waist, pulling you closer, his thumb brushing against your skin in slow, deliberate circles.

When he finally pulled away, the room erupted in cheers and teasing catcalls, but you could hardly focus on any of it.

The only thing you could think about was the way Megumi’s hand lingered on your waist, his eyes still locked on yours as though you were the only person in the room.

“Wow,” Yuji finally broke the silence, clapping his hands together. “That was intense.”

“Way to go, Fushiguro,” Nobara added, winking at you with a knowing smile.

Megumi, still quiet, returned to his spot beside you, but this time, his body language was different.

There was no more guarded front, no more distance. Instead, his knee brushed against yours, his arm resting just a little too close to be accidental.

The game had peeled back some of his usual stoicism, and now there was something deeper lurking beneath his calm exterior—something you could feel humming in the space between you.

You dared to glance over at him, only to find his eyes already on you, their dark intensity sending a rush of heat to your cheeks. He didn't look away, didn't even try to hide the fact that he was watching you.

Your breath hitched slightly, the sudden weight of his gaze pressing down on you, making your pulse quicken. It was like he was trying to read you, see past the casual facade you were putting up for the others.

But his eyes weren’t just curious—they were hungry, filled with a desire you weren’t sure you were ready to face head-on, but that also thrilled you in ways you hadn’t expected.

The others were too caught up in their laughter to notice the way the air crackled between you and Megumi, but you were hyper-aware of every single movement he made. Even the subtle shift in his posture, the way his hand rested dangerously close to your thigh, sent sparks through you.

You swallowed, trying to shake off the way your skin prickled with awareness, but it was impossible. The more you tried to ignore him, the more your body seemed to betray you, the warmth in your stomach spreading lower with every lingering glance he threw your way.

Then, as if on cue, Megumi stood up, his movements slow and deliberate. "I'm getting another bottle," he murmured, his voice low and rough around the edges, like he was holding back more than just his words.

You weren’t prepared for what came next. As he rose, his hand grazed your thigh—a light, seemingly casual touch, but it set every nerve in your body on fire.

His fingers lingered for just a fraction of a second longer than necessary, sending a jolt of electricity through you, and when you looked up, his eyes met yours again, darker now, filled with an unspoken promise.

Your breath caught in your throat, and for a moment, everything around you blurred—Nobara’s laughter, Yuji’s teasing, Maki’s quips—all of it fading into the background.

All you could focus on was the heat of Megumi’s touch, the way it had seared through you, leaving your skin tingling with anticipation—you wanted him, bad.

The room felt too small, too hot, and you were suddenly hyper-aware of every inch of space between you and him. It was nothing, really—a simple touch, a brush of fingers—but it felt like everything.

Like the air had been sucked out of the room, leaving only the tension that crackled between you both.

He disappeared for a moment, leaving you to catch your breath. But even as he walked away, you could still feel him. It was like his presence clung to you, the weight of his gaze lingering on your skin even in his absence.

When Megumi returned with another bottle of sake, his calm facade was back in place, but you weren’t fooled. There was a subtle shift in the way he moved, the way his eyes flicked to you as he sat back down, this time even closer than before.

His thigh brushed against yours, just barely, but it was enough to send another rush of heat pooling in your stomach.

You could feel him now, not just his physical presence, but the storm of emotions brewing just beneath the surface.

You shifted in your seat, suddenly too aware of every inch of your body—how close you were sitting, the way your legs almost touched, the heat radiating off him.

It felt like every breath you took was somehow synced with his, the air between you buzzing with a tension that neither of you acknowledged out loud but was impossible to ignore.

Nobara was saying something, but you barely registered the words. Your focus had narrowed, zeroing in on the way Megumi’s fingers brushed against the rim of his glass, the way his jaw clenched slightly when he looked at you, like he was holding something back.

The tension was suffocating, but in the best possible way, like it was wrapping around you, pulling you both into a world where nothing else mattered.

You shifted again, but this time it felt deliberate. The tiniest of movements, your knee brushing against his, the fabric of his pants against your skin.

It was innocent enough on the surface, but the way his eyes darkened in response told you everything you needed to know. The tension between you had been building for too long, simmering just beneath the surface, and now, it felt like it was reaching a boiling point.

When he looked at you again, his gaze was heated, his lips parting slightly as if he wanted to say something but was holding back. You couldn’t help the way your pulse quickened, your heart thudding in your chest.

You wanted him to break first, to give in to whatever this was that had been hanging between you for so long.

—

The night was winding down, but the weight of everything that had been said—and left unsaid—hung heavily in the air. The others had drifted off to their rooms, their laughter fading into the background as the dorm grew quieter.

It was just you and Megumi now, the soft glow of the lamplight casting long shadows across the room, highlighting the distance between you that was rapidly shrinking with every passing second.

Megumi stood close, his usual stoic expression softer now, more vulnerable than you had ever seen. His fingers brushed against your arm, sending a spark of electricity down your spine. His eyes flickered, like he was searching for the right words but couldn’t quite find them.

"You’re staying, right?" His voice was quiet, hesitant, the rough edge of his usual demeanor replaced with something rawer, something real.

You nodded, heart pounding. "Yeah. I’m staying."

The silence that followed was thick with anticipation, the unspoken tension between you two finally rising to the surface after simmering for so long.

You could feel the magnetic pull between you, an invisible thread tugging you closer, binding you in this shared moment of vulnerability and desire.

Before you could say anything else, Megumi’s resolve seemed to snap. His lips were on yours again, more urgent this time, as if the dam holding back everything he’d been feeling for so long had finally burst.

His hands slipped to your waist, pulling you flush against him, his grip firm but careful, like he was afraid to let go.

This kiss was different from the one earlier, more intense, filled with unspoken promises and a hunger that neither of you had fully realized until now.

It was as if all the time spent pretending, all the looks, the touches, the quiet moments shared between you, had led to this.

You let out a long-awaited moan into his mouth as your lips moved hungrily in sync, as if releasing all the tension you’d been sitting in all night.

The fire between you was no longer just a flicker—it had ignited into something all-consuming, something you couldn’t ignore any longer.

You kissed him back with equal intensity, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as you pressed yourself closer, desperate to erase any remaining space between you.

His lips moved against yours with a rhythm that felt both familiar and new, like you had been waiting for this moment your entire life. The heat between you was overwhelming, your mind hazy with the sheer closeness of him.

Megumi’s hands roamed your waist, slipping beneath the fabric of your shirt, his fingers rough and warm as they explored the sensitive skin beneath.

His touch was deliberate, slow, as though he was savoring every second, every inch of your body that he could claim.

Each pass of his fingertips was electric, leaving a trail of heat in their wake, igniting a fire deep inside you that you could no longer contain.

The moment his skin touched yours, it was like a spark had been lit, an intense awareness coursing through your body.

His hands slid up the curve of your waist, pausing just beneath your ribs, his thumbs grazing the underside of your chest with an aching slowness that sent shivers racing down your spine.

The contact was subtle, but the heat from his touch seared into you, making your breath hitch and your pulse race.

Your senses were on overdrive—every small stroke of his fingers, the way his nails lightly grazed your skin, sent a rush of heat pooling in your core.

The alcohol had dulled your inhibitions, making you hyper-aware of every inch of him against you, but it was more than that.

The intimacy, the raw connection you shared with him, was overwhelming, heightening the undeniable chemistry that crackled between you.

You could feel it in every brush of his skin against yours, every soft exhale of his breath on your neck as he nibbled at your soft skin.

The tension built with every passing second, your body responding to him in ways you couldn’t control.

His hands moved higher, his touch growing bolder, more possessive, and it was almost unbearable—the way you ached for more, for him to go further, to close the distance that still remained between you.

Your body trembled beneath his touch, anticipation coursing through your veins as you leaned into him, needing him closer, needing more of him.

Your soft gasp filled the space between you as Megumi’s lips pressed against the side of your neck, trailing a slow, deliberate path down your skin. His breath was warm, ragged, and every exhale sent a wave of heat coursing through you.

He kissed the sensitive spot just below your ear, the warmth of his lips and the scrape of his teeth drawing another shiver from you. It was maddening—the way he took his time, teasing you with soft, lingering kisses that left your body trembling with need.

His lips pressed against the hollow of your throat, and the sensation of his mouth on your skin made you feel like you were unraveling, your body responding to him with a mind of its own.

Every kiss, every stroke of his fingers sent another wave of heat crashing through you, your thoughts muddled by the intoxicating combination of alcohol, desire, and the closeness of his body against yours.

You could feel his breath falter, his own restraint slipping as his lips moved against your skin, the heat between you becoming almost unbearable. He kissed lower, his lips trailing along your collarbone, leaving a path of warmth and want in their wake.

Your heart raced, your body thrumming with the need for more, for him to touch you everywhere, to finally give in to the desire that had been building between you for what felt like forever.

As his hands tightened around your waist, his fingers pressing firmly into your skin, you knew that you weren’t the only one losing control.

Megumi’s breath came faster, more ragged, his kisses turning hungrier, more desperate, as though he was just as consumed by this moment as you were.

The world outside faded into nothing, leaving only the two of you, tangled in each other, the heat of your bodies and the tension that had been simmering between you for far too long finally breaking free.

He paused for a moment, his forehead resting against yours as both of you caught your breath. His hands still held you close, refusing to let go, and when his eyes met yours again, they were dark with an intensity that made your heart race.

"Y/n," he whispered, his voice rough and low, filled with a vulnerability that made your chest tighten. "I’ve wanted this for so long... wanted you."

Your heart fluttered at his confession, the weight of his words settling deep inside you. You had always known there was something between you and Megumi, but hearing it from him, feeling it in the way he touched you, made it all feel so much more real.

"I’ve wanted you too," you whispered back, your voice barely audible, but you knew he heard it. He didn’t need words to understand—he could feel it in the way you clung to him, the way your body fit perfectly against his.

He captured your lips again, this time slower, deeper, savoring every second of it. The kiss was languid, filled with all the emotions you had both been too afraid to admit until now. His hands traced up your back, drawing you impossibly closer, his fingers tangled in your hair as the kiss grew more passionate.

The world outside faded into nothingness, leaving only the two of you, wrapped in each other’s warmth and need. Time seemed to stretch, the only sound in the room the soft gasps and sighs as you both gave in to the moment, to the desire that had been building between you for so long.

Whatever unspoken boundaries had existed between you and Megumi before this night had shattered, leaving only the two of you, tangled in each other’s arms, with nothing but your shared desire and the heat of the moment to guide you.

There was no turning back now.

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luncheon-aspic · 2 years ago

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Yeah it's technically Monday, but I just slammed some myself.

it's saturday...

that means it's time to get salmon slammin'!

(grizzly-bear-official is not sponsored by Big Salmon)

#teriyaki deep fried salmon trimmings donburi that was marked down for fast sale at the fancy market #was so tempted by the big trays of deep fried bones and trimmings but I restrained myself #such a great way to slam without breaking the bank #you get so much of the fatty bits and skin that you don't need much to feel satisfied

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kathrynmhahn · 26 days ago

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please help me save my dogs life.

my dog is suffering right now and i need to get him to the vet asap. his head has started wobbling, he has no balance and his eyes are...messed up. (he's also having a hard time opening his eyes) i know for a fact he has a severe flea allergy, and the house i'm staying at right now had no fleas until the neighbors moved in and we now have a literal infestation. (you can't walk thru this house or outside without having at least 10 fat fleas trying to body slam you) he was on meds for his allergies and was doing fine, but then i became homeless and was moving around too much to be able to work and keep him on it. so i'm pretty sure his immune system is overloaded with allergy attacks.

so i'm looking to raise at least $400, to cover the tests the vet would need to do + his medication. (the medication he absolutely needs is literally $100)

i'm also aware with him being 10 years old, the damage could be done and i might have to get him put down, which is about $200+ for his size.

i've attached a picture of him below under a read more with more info bc he looks a little scary and i don't wanna upset or freak anyone out.

i'm not doing a gofundme or anything similar bc i've heard horror stories of people not getting their money, and this is quite literally a life or death situation and with him being my soul dog, i can't take any chances.

any amount helps us out right now, and if you can't donate, please, please reblog. 💞 please feel free to send me a message if you have any questions about anything!

p.ypal: @/airikah v.nmo: itserij c.shapp: $itserij *my real name and online name are the same, just spelled differently. airi/eri and airikah/erica are all me!

he's had a similar issue with his eyes like this before bc i didn't know he was allergic to fish, and i gave him salmon flavored food and the vet gave me some stuff and he was okay. (i literally had to pry open his eyes for this picture, he's having a hard time opening them)

he also has ptsd (yes, for real) about getting his nails cut so he will NOT let me touch them and i cant risk him hurting himself trying to get away from me right now (or biting me), and its $33 to get it done at his vet and they absolutely need to be cut asap bc i'm also sure thats throwing off his balance.

like i said before the flea stuff i have isnt strong enough to help him, so he's losing more hair and scratching himself bloody even tho i'm giving him a bath every other day. (he also has a skin condition that makes this all 100x more painful for him - the meds that he needs help with that skin condition as well. it also clears his chronic ear infections which is another reason i think he's wobblily and off balance)

#signal boost #financial aid #mutual aid #ludo~

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ssivinee · 23 days ago

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❥ 𝙰𝚌𝚌𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚕 𝙻𝚘𝚟𝚎

Le Sserafim! Nakamura Kazhua x F reader: You and Kazuha both come into a tight spot. She needs a 'fake girlfriend' to make her parents happy, and you need to help your dad, who needs dire help. How will the rich and popular girl and a nobody like you help each other out?

Word Count: 6.3 k

Author's Note: Writing this one actually came so easy to me, like it was so refreshing😭. ANYWAYSSSSS I'll be working on a few fics this month FOR SURE since the break is coming up! I'll have a few things coming up in school, and college WILL be kicking my ass but before and after all that, I'll try and update as much as I can.

The warm aroma of miso soup filled the air as you ladled portions into bowls, your movements practiced from countless nights spent at your father’s restaurant. The steady sizzle of tonkatsu in the hot oil, the clinking of glasses as men toasted as a celebration, and the occasional chime of the register felt as natural as breathing.

Your father fixed the dishes on a large tray: two bowls of miso soup, steaming plates of tonkatsu with rice and curry, a platter of salmon sashimi, and some plain green tea. He handed it off with a nod, and you hoisted the tray onto your shoulder, carrying it to a table where a young couple sat, lost in their little world.

Returning to the counter, you set down the tray and started wiping down tables, each swipe bringing closing time a little closer. After wiping down the last tables and cleaning the floors, you closed the register and changed out of your uniform.

“Otosan! I’m heading out!” you called from the door. Your father looked up from his notebook and calculator long enough to wave goodbye, immersed in tallying up the day’s earnings. Hopping on your bike, you pedaled home under the quiet night sky, planning to tackle your homework before bed.

This was your daily routine: mornings at university, afternoons helping your dad at the restaurant, then late nights finishing assignments. It wasn’t an amazing lifestyle, but you and your dad were getting by, and that was enough.

The scholarship you’d earned was the key to giving your father a better life, and you were determined to keep it that way. Whether that meant long hours studying or missing out on having any kind of social life, you didn’t mind. As long as you succeeded, that was what mattered.

But life wasn’t smooth sailing either. You attended a prestigious university filled with classmates from the country’s wealthiest families. You’d worked hard to pass the grueling entrance exam, clinching one of the top scores that earned you a scholarship for a business degree. That meant you had to work 10 times harder to keep your spot in school.

Now, you sat at your desk, fingers nearly flying over the keyboard as you worked on a project for business class. The computer was slow—a model you’d saved up for after countless shifts—but it did what you needed, even if you had to be patient with it. You then finished up as quickly as possible, just before you were extremely exhausted and crashed into bed.

You woke up to the harsh blare of your alarm at five in the morning, practically slamming it off as you dragged yourself up, feeling like you’d just been hit by an earthquake. Stretching the sleep from your limbs, you quickly showered threw on a plain polo, a knitted sweater, and some hand-me-down jeans. With classes starting at seven and living an hour away by bike, this was your routine—always the first one in the classroom.

As other students trickled in, you were already immersed in your textbook, laptop open, barely noticing the bustle around you. “This is why you have no friends,” a voice teased, pulling you out of focus. You looked up to see your best friend, Tanaka Anna, grinning at you.

“Then why are you here?” you shot back, smiling as she took the seat beside you. Despite being one of the “rich kids,” Anna quickly became your closest friend in that first week of school. Both of you were some of the top students in your class, and the bond you formed was effortless.

Meanwhile, across town in Osaka, Nakamura Kazuha was just stirring awake. Even fresh out of sleep, Kazuha exuded an effortless beauty. With her family’s prestige, she was known for her grace, wealth, and status—a girl who seemed to have it all.

Kazuha’s morning began in her usual luxurious bubble. She opened her eyes to soft light filtering through silk curtains, stretching slowly against the plush, oversized pillows. As she got out of her bed, she slipped on a velvet robe and made her way to the bathroom, where everything—from the marble countertops to the gold fixtures—yelled rich in anyone's face.

She took her time in the shower, letting the warmth ease her into the day, before wearing a high-end light blue blouse, matching skirt, and short white heels. The final touches were a pair of delicate pearl earrings and a designer bag to match.

By the time she came down her grand staircase for breakfast, the family’s chef had already prepared a large spread: sliced fruit arranged like art, freshly baked pastries, and perfectly poached eggs. She settled in at the long dining table, enjoying her home's quiet and refined atmosphere. But it wasn’t long before her parents joined her, each with their usual aura of authority.

“Kazuha, darling,” her mother, Mitsuko, began, setting her teacup down with a slight clink. “Your father and I wanted to discuss something important.”

Her father, Ichiro, nodded. “The company ball is next month, and it’s…well, you know how it is. We’d like you to bring a date this year.”

Kazuha paused, her fork hovering mid-air. “A date?” she asked, the idea feeling suddenly foreign. She was used to being in the spotlight on her, but with a date?

“Yes, Kazuha. You’re at the age where these things are expected,” her mother replied gently. “You’ve been so focused on yourself, but you need someone who can stand beside you, someone accomplished. It would make a good impression.”

Her father added, “It’s a chance to meet someone who’s not only a match in standard but also has the intellect to keep up with you.”

Kazuha swallowed, the weight of their expectations settling over her. She had high standards, and finding someone who was smart and emotionally intelligent, especially in her circle, felt nearly impossible. The clock was ticking, though, and she knew her parents would be relentless until she found someone. He parents weren’t one to judge, but they had some expectations that not many people reached.

Later, in the school cafeteria, Kazuha shared her dilemma with her two closest friends, Yunjin and Chaewon, as they sipped their lattes. “I just… I have no idea who I could find that’s… I don’t know, like that? They have to be smart, like really smart, and have a good head on their shoulders. But most people here are either too shallow or stupid.”

Yunjin began thinking for a second, then raised an eyebrow. “Maybe~, you’re in luck. Y/n. Top student, really smart, doesn’t exactly live in a bubble like most of us but could probably act like it.”

Chaewon nodded in agreement. “Y/n’s definitely a good option. Not a pushover, but they won’t embarrass you either. I think they’d be convincing enough to your parents.”

Kazuha thought for a moment. Y/n wasn’t exactly the first person she’d ever consider as a “date,” but you had the qualities she needed, at least from what she was hearing from her friends. And perhaps, with the right incentive, you might just agree to help her.

During your lunch break, you were scanning over some notes when Kazuha appeared before you, looking both determined and slightly nervous.

“Y/n, I have a proposition,” she began, choosing her words carefully. You looked there confused, never imagining someone this famous talking to you. “My family is hosting a ball next month, and I need a date. It’s important that they’re…well, someone smart, someone good with people. And I think you’d be the perfect choice.”

You raised an eyebrow, barely glancing up. “No thanks, I’m not really interested in being someone’s date.”

Kazuha’s expression shifted as she leaned in, desperation flickering in her eyes. “Look, I’m willing to make it worth your time. I’ll pay you—100,000 yen.”

That caught your attention. You looked at her properly, noting how she tried to maintain her usual composed expression despite the obvious urgency in her voice. “I’ll think about it,” Kazuha took that response, nodding furiously as she took a piece of paper from your notes, writing something down.

“Here’s my number. If you make up your mind, just give me a text,” You were about to say ‘okay,’ but she anxiously walked away, going back to her table. Your fingers trail to the paper, looking at the number but paying no mind to it as Anna comes to sit with food in her hands.

You told yourself you’d think about it later. “What was Kazuha doing here?”

“Huh?” You look at Anna in surprise. She hands you a sandwich, her brows raised in interest. “Oh, she was just asking me about Professor Ito’s class,” you try saying confidently, which works as Anna just shrugs and begins eating her food.

Anna had already started chatting about her morning, sharing the latest gossip and complaining about her calculus homework, which you gladly offered her help with after work on call.

After lunch, you headed to your next class, slipping into your usual seat in the back. The professor discussed business ethics, but your mind drifted back to Kazuha’s offer. The idea of pretending to be her date for a month—just to impress her family and their high-society crowd—felt entirely out of your comfort zone.

As the class ended, you tried to shake off the lingering thoughts. You had work to do and didn’t want to be distracted by a girl like Kazuha, no matter how much money she offered.

Your next stop was the library, where you planned to work on your project. It was a presentation, so you had to make sure it was perfect to save yourself from embarrassment. The quiet hum of the library was a relief after the loud and crowded hallways, and you found a secluded spot to set up. As you opened your laptop and began typing, you noticed a familiar face a few tables down—Kazuha, of all people, was sitting with Huh Yunjin and Kim Chaewon. They were talking in low voices, and every so often, Kazuha would glance around as if worried someone might overhear.

You tried to ignore them, but their conversation kept drawing your eye. Eventually, you buried yourself in your notes, focusing on your work, determined to stay on track. As minutes passed, you got into a rhythm, typing away as the library around you faded into the background.

By the time you finished, the sun had started to dip lower in the sky, casting a warm glow through the library windows. You packed up your things, feeling accomplished after making some serious progress on your project. Heading out, you passed by the university’s main quad, where groups of students were sprawled on the grass, enjoying the evening air. You caught sight of Anna again, now sitting with a few friends, laughing at something on her phone.

You waved to her and kept walking, mind back on your to-do list.

It was now after your shift, and you were doing your nightly cleaning of the restaurant, but a low, tired sigh interrupted that. You look at your dad, who was doing his usual finance check, but his hand gripped the side of his head, and he shook it in disappointment. With concern, you go over to him, sliding your hand up and down his back.

“Everything okay, otosan?” you asked, your tone light, though you’d noticed the tension in his shoulders and the tightness around his mouth. He shook his head and lowered his reading glasses, his gaze fixed on the old open notebook.

“It hasn’t been for a while, Y/n,” he admitted, his voice drowned in stress. You glanced down at the page filled with columns of numbers, each line a reminder of the months he’d been struggling to keep up. Your stomach sank as your eyes settled on the red circle at the bottom.

“80,000 yen?!” you exclaimed, your voice rising as the reality of the number hit you. Your father nodded, the faintest tremor in his hands as he pushed the book toward you.

“If we don’t pay by the end of this month, we’ll have to close down,” he said, his voice cracking. You felt your chest tighten as you watched him lower his head, shoulders sagging under the weight of shame he tried to hide as tears began dropping.

Before you knew it, you were reaching over, wrapping him tightly. He leaned into you, his struggles now fully visible. “I’ll find a way to keep this place open,” you murmured, feeling the promise settle deep in your bones.

“Y/n,” he started to say, pulling back to look at you, but you just nodded as pure determination coursed through your veins. You knew it wouldn’t be easy, the restaurant’s debt being too large for your dad to handle alone.

After helping your father close up for the night, you lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, your mind racing with thoughts of how you could come up with such an amount so quickly. The scholarship helped with university fees, but that was about all the financial freedom you had. The rest was a constant scramble to save and help out however you could.

You couldn’t—wouldn’t—let your father’s efforts be for nothing.

Yet you were stumped. Thinking of ways to help him, even if it were just a short solution. Your eyes then drift to the pocket of your raggedy jeans that hung on a hanger on your closet door. As if a light bulb went off, you rush over to the pockets, taking out the wrinkled paper that held Kazuha’s number.

You reached for your phone, texting her quickly, and sighed as you hit send.

Kazuha had been lying in bed, eating some chips as she watched a movie before bed. Feeling the buzz of her phone, she read the message that made her smile: It’s Y/n. I’ll accept your offer.

The feeling of relief sank in quickly, deciding to respond back just as fast: Got it. We’ll talk in person tmmr.

Kazuha couldn’t contain her excitement, texting her group chats with a big grin stuck on her face.

Zuha🦢 SHE SAID SHE’D HELP ME OUT EEEEEEEEEEEE Jen🐍 woah wasn’t expecting that to actually work out Chae🐯 wait what about her status? ik Y/n isn’t rich 🤔 Zuha🦢 i got that handled. ill talk to her about it tmmr Jen🐍 goodluck with that then 🤩

With the good news, Kazuha’s sleep was amazing that night. So the next day, during your break after your business and statistics class, you barely sipped your coffee when you noticed Kazuha approaching. She seemed more put together than yesterday, her expression a mix of confidence and happiness as you felt the peppiness from a mile away. She stopped just in front of you, a polite smile on her face.

“You free now?” You nodded, which had her quickly taking a seat across from you. “So let’s talk about the ball first,” she started. “It’s formal, of course, with a lot of people from my father’s company, some rival companies, and family friends attending. I need you to play the part of a rich, smart, and well-behaved girlfriend.”

“Alright…” you nodded, leaning in as Kazuha launched into more details.

“And as far as your ‘background’ goes, we’ll need to smooth over a few things,” she added carefully, her gaze flickering over you as if assessing what she was working with. “Tell me about you first.” “Well, uhm, my mom passed away from a heart disease when I was four years old, so it’s only been my dad and I. I’m on a scholarship here, and I work in my dad’s restaurant. She fought for a long time, and…well, my dad’s been managing on his own since,” as you finished the short summary of your life, Kazuha couldn’t help but feel sad for your mom.

Kazuha’s expression shifted immediately, her eyes softening as she nodded. “I’m sorry,” she said quietly, her usual composure breaking just enough to reveal a genuine sadness in her gaze. She reached out momentarily as if to offer a comforting touch, then thought better of it, folding her hands instead. “I can’t imagine what that must’ve been like for you. Really.” You waved your hands frantically at her, passed the pity and grieving stage. “It’s been a long time, don’t worry about it.”

Kazuha tries to move past the subject. “So you’re gonna be the child of a successful family, then. Your father owns a chain of restaurants,” she said, pausing as if trying to gauge your reaction.

You raised an eyebrow but decided to go along with it. “Alright, we’ll leave out the real specifics,” you said, slightly grinning. “If your parents are convinced, that’s all that matters, right?”

“Exactly,” Kazuha replied with a relieved smile, then hesitated, her expression softening.

Kazuha nodded thoughtfully as if committing everything you’d said to memory. “Alright, for our story, your dad’s chain will be ‘up-and-coming.’ We won’t mention the name; I’ll handle any questions from my parents.”

“Right,” you replied. “So…what’s the next step?”

Kazuha’s face lit up a little, her businesslike expression slipping back into one of enthusiasm. “First, we need to make it believable. If people see us together, the rumors will spread, and my parents will hear about us before we even have to introduce you. So, a slight makeover and some new clothes.”

You raised an eyebrow; the idea of a “makeover” is not exactly high on your list of priorities. “New clothes? Aren’t people just going to think we’re…together if we’re seen in public a lot?”

“Exactly. That’s the point. We want to make it believable to everyone else first, so my parents buy into it,” Kazuha explained with a sly smile. “Trust me, it’s easier that way.”

You sighed, wondering just what you’d signed up for. “Alright, fine. Lead the way.”

The next day, you met Kazuha in the city, feeling more nervous than you’d anticipated. She took you to a luxurious shopping district that, honestly, you’d only ever seen in passing. Her eyes lit up as she led you through the marble-floored entrance of the first boutique.

“Alright,” Kazuha said with a determined smile. “Let’s find you something that says, ‘sophisticated and slightly out of everyone’s league.’”

In the first store, she handed you a blazer and high-waisted pants, then a chic blouse and dress slacks, each piece seemingly more expensive than the last. You tried on outfit after outfit, and Kazuha would look you over, making tiny adjustments to the sleeves or tilting her head thoughtfully before approving or rejecting each one. Soon, there was a stack of ‘approved’ items in her hands, and you were only beginning to realize how committed she was to this whole “couple” thing.

After several bags of clothing, she led you to a high-end salon in the district. The place was sleek, and the stylist practically glowed when Kazuha told them what she was envisioning for you. You barely had a chance to speak before you were in the chair, caped and ready. They added soft layers and volume to your hair, trimming it in a way that made it frame your face, and the stylist styled it with effortless waves, adding a sense of ‘rich’ vibes to you.

Once the haircut was done, Kazuha gave a little approving nod, almost as if she were admiring her own handiwork. “Perfect,” she said, a small smile of satisfaction creeping onto her face. “Now, for the ball…”

She led you to yet another store, where you noticed her eyes darting between the dresses on display and the sleeker suits on the other side. Finally, she grabbed a tailored navy blue pantsuit, complete with a fitted blazer and high-waisted pants. The fabric looked soft, and the cut was elegant.

When you tried it on and stepped out of the fitting room, Kazuha’s smile widened. “That’s it. It’s perfect on you.” She handed the attendant her card without another word, leaving you feeling both flattered and somewhat stunned at the transformation.

Over the next few days at school, you and Kazuha started hanging out in the open, just as she’d planned. You sat beside each other during lunch, walked to classes together, and even laughed at each other’s jokes like an actual couple.

It wasn’t long before people started talking. Anna finally cornered you at lunch with a smirk on her face. “Alright, spill. What’s going on with you and Kazuha?” Anna nudged you, raising her eyebrows knowingly.

You gave her a shrug, trying to play it cool. “It’s…kind of complicated,” you started, but Anna was already crossing her arms, ready to hear all the details.

With a sigh, you explained the situation, from the fake relationship helping her with the ball to the makeover Kazuha had insisted on to your father being in debt, and you do all this for him. Anna just shook her head with a laugh. “So, you’re basically the prince in this Cinderella story, and she’s…what, the princess in disguise?”

“Something like that, I guess,” you chuckled, though you could sense how strange this all sounded. Still, you couldn’t deny the thrill of it. You’d been helping your dad as usual but found yourself waiting for each break to see what Kazuha might come up with next.

All of this was beginning to feel too real to you. On a random school day, you and Kazuha had been hanging out on campus at a place with a good view. Just the two of you, sitting on a bench as her head leaned on your shoulder. “You know, this isn’t so bad,” she says as she stares off, and you find yourself staring at her as she speaks.

“These past few weeks have probably been the happiest I’ve been in my life.” You smile at her words. But when she looked at you directly in the eyes, your heart skipped a beat. Her eyes are large as she looks at you so hopelessly. Your heart raced as she smiled with genuine happiness.

On a different day, a rainy afternoon, you and Kazuha found yourselves tucked away in a small coffee shop off-campus. The rain had started out of nowhere, and after a rushed dash to find shelter, you both ended up laughing as you brushed the rain from your jackets. It was quieter than usual inside, only a handful of people scattered throughout the cozy café, and you and Kazuha snagged a booth by the window, watching the rain drizzle against the glass.

Kazuha stirred her hot chocolate absentmindedly, a small smile on her face as she leaned across the table toward you. “I think we make a pretty cute couple,” she teased, her eyes sparkling mischievously.

You raised a brow, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. “Do you, now?”

“Mm-hmm,” she hummed, a playful grin spreading across her lips. She reached over and took your hand, threading her fingers through yours without hesitation. Her touch was warm, her thumb grazing the back of your hand in soft circles, and her expression turned softer, her gaze lingering on your joined hands as though they fit perfectly together.

“It’s kind of unfair, don’t you think?” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

“What is?” you asked, your voice quiet in return, as if the moment was too fragile to break.

“That you get to look at me like that,” she replied, meeting your eyes, “but I’m the one who can’t look away.”

Her words hit you like a sudden rush, leaving you speechless. Her gaze was tender, searching your face as if trying to memorize every detail. She leaned a little closer, her free hand reaching up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. For a second, you thought she might pull away, but instead, she stayed, her eyes lingering on yours with such intensity that you couldn’t help but feel your heart race.

You opened your mouth to say something, anything, but Kazuha’s soft smile stopped you. “You don’t have to say anything,” she whispered, still holding your hand. “I just… I’m glad it’s you.”

With the act almost becoming real, the rumors spread quickly, just as Kazuha had hoped. You started noticing curious looks and hearing whispers as the two of you walked down the halls every day. It didn’t take long for the rumors to reach Kazuha’s parents as other kids were beginning to tell their parents about the visual-like couple.

But not everyone seemed thrilled by it. Tsuki, a girl you wouldn’t usually see around Kazuha before, started lurking nearby during lunch, watching the two of you with narrowed eyes. Finally, one day, she approached your table, a smirk tugging at the corners of her mouth.

“Kazuha,” she began dismissively, looking Kazuha up and down with a disdainful expression. “Is this the best you could do?” She snorted, her gaze lingering on you. “I thought you had standards. Isn’t she…a bit out of your league?” You were surprised, trying to hide it. She was talking to you, saying Kazuha was out of your league? You could almost laugh at the comment.

You clenched your jaw but stayed silent, waiting to see how Kazuha would respond. Kazuha’s eyes darkened as she opened her mouth to retort, but you placed a gentle hand on her arm, shaking your head slightly. You turned to Tsuki, keeping your voice steady.

“Funny,” you said, meeting Tsuki’s gaze. “I didn’t realize other people’s standards were your concern.” You offered a polite but firm smile.

Tsuki glared but huffed, turning on her heel and walking away, though not without a parting sneer. Kazuha looked at you, her tension easing as she let out a relieved breath. “Thanks,” she murmured, a hint of a smile returning to her face.

Finally, the night of the ball arrived. You dressed in the tailored pantsuit, running a hand through your styled hair and taking a deep breath as you checked your reflection. When you arrived at the large venue hall to meet her parents, you found yourself on edge, but Kazuha reassured you with a warm smile.

Her parents, Mitsuko and Ichiro, greeted you with polite smiles, though you could tell they were evaluating you closely. As you settled into introductions, Mitsuko eyed you thoughtfully. “So, Y/n,” she said smoothly, her eyes flickering to Kazuha with a hint of warmth, “we’ve heard quite a bit about you.”

“Only good things, I hope,” you replied with a smile, and Ichiro chuckled.

Kazuha’s hand brushed yours briefly as she added, “Yes, all good things. You’ve been such a huge support with my studies and…well, life in general.”

Her parents exchanged a look, the conversation continuing as the ball’s formalities began. You mingled, keeping up the act seamlessly as the night went on, and found yourself growing more comfortable in the role. Each smile from Kazuha felt a little more real, every glance just a little warmer.

The ball was in full swing, with the lights of the crystal chandeliers casting a soft glow over the elegant scene. You and Kazuha mingled effortlessly with her family’s guests, moving from one conversation to the next, and each time someone asked about Kazuha’s new “girlfriend,” you surprised yourself with how naturally the words flowed. You talked about her with such ease and admiration that anyone listening would have believed you were truly in love. Kazuha noticed, her gaze lingering on you with a mix of curiosity.

At one point, she pulled you aside to thank you, whispering, “You’re really selling this, you know? My parents adore you.” She had said it as a joke, but her eyes showed unmistakable warmth.

You grinned. “What can I say? I’m a natural.”

As the night wore on, you found yourself enjoying the warmth of her hand in yours, the comfortable way she leaned into you as you navigated the crowd together. Yet, as much as you were swept up in the moment, a pang of guilt ate at you. This was Kazuha’s world, not yours, and even though you’d agreed to this arrangement, you couldn’t shake the weight of knowing why you’d accepted it in the first place.

Needing a moment to gather your thoughts, you excused yourself and slipped outside to the balcony. The cool night air wrapped around you as you leaned against the railing, trying to calm the flood of emotions that had crept up on you out of nowhere.

Kazuha must have noticed your absence because a few minutes later, she appeared beside you, her brow furrowed in concern. “Hey… is everything okay?” She placed a gentle hand on your shoulder.

You took a deep breath, deciding that it was time to be honest. “I… Kazuha, I took your offer because my dad’s restaurant is in massive debt. It felt like the only way I could help him. I know I shouldn’t feel bad because you asked, but—”

She cut you off with a soft smile, shaking her head. “Y/n, you don’t have to explain. This was my idea, remember? If anything, I should be thanking you. You’re helping me way more than I expected, and… honestly, I wouldn’t want anyone else by my side right now.”

Her words were gentle and understanding, but she could tell you still felt uneasy. So, she took your hand, looking up at you with an earnest expression. “You’re always talking about how much you love your dad’s restaurant. How it’s more than just a place to work—it’s part of who you are. And I get that. So…” She paused, her voice softening. “I want to help you. I want to invest in the restaurant, help with renovations, whatever it takes to keep it running.”

Your eyes widened, and you were at a loss for words for a moment. “Kazuha, you don’t have to do that…”

“I want to,” she replied, her gaze steady. “You’re doing this for me. Let me do this for you.”

At that moment, the full weight of her offer, of her kindness, settled over you. She wasn’t doing this out of pity—she genuinely wanted to help. And that thought, that selflessness, made you see her in a completely new light.

She flashed a grin, hoping to lighten the mood. “Plus, just imagine the look on everyone’s faces when they realize their favorite restaurant got a glow-up, courtesy of Nakamura Kazuha.”

You laughed, feeling some of the tension in your chest dissolve. “Alright, alright. But don’t think you can just buy your way to my heart, Nakamura.”

“Oh, please,” she teased, nudging your shoulder. “You know I don’t have to buy anything.”

As the weeks passed, Kazuha threw herself into the project with as much passion as you had for the restaurant. She helped with renovations, shared updates on her social media, and made sure her friends and family spread the word. When the grand reopening day finally arrived, a line stretched down the block. The place was packed, the sound of laughter and conversation filling the air as your dad greeted customers, overwhelmed by the support.

At this point, she didn’t even have to pay you the 100,000 yen. This was so much more than enough for you and your father.

“Y/n,” he started, pausing as if searching for the right words. “Your girlfriend… she gave us a second chance at life.”

You looked up, surprised by the emotion in his voice. He rarely spoke like this, always focusing more on action than words. He noticed your silence and continued, his gaze softening in a way you hadn’t seen in years.

“I remember when your mother and I first opened this place,” he said, a hint of nostalgia in his tone. “Back then, it was just the two of us, struggling to make it work, but it was worth every late night, every sacrifice… because we had each other. And now, seeing you and Kazuha—she’s doing for you what your mother and I did for each other. Giving you support, standing by you.”

Your father’s eyes gleamed as he placed a hand on your shoulder. “She didn’t have to help us, go out of her way. But she did, all for you. That says something. Don’t take that for granted.”

You nodded, processing his words as they settled into your heart. He smiled knowingly, giving you a soft pat on the back. “I can tell how much you care about her. And I know it scares you a little. But don’t let that stop you. Hold on to her. People like that… they don’t come around often. And when they do, you don’t let them go.”

Your throat tightened, gratitude welling up inside you. Hearing your dad’s approval, especially about Kazuha, meant everything. You thought of all the small moments—her smile, her laughter, the way she showed up for you without asking anything in return. It all hit you at once, the depth of what you had.

“Thanks, Dad,” you murmured, a smile pulling at your lips. “I really do like her.”

He chuckled, ruffling your hair like he used to when you were a kid. “Good. Then don’t let anything hold you back.”

Watching from a distance, you couldn’t help but glance over at Kazuha, who stood beside you, taking in the bustling scene with a proud smile. “This is all thanks to you,” you said quietly.

She met your gaze, a soft glint in her eyes. “No, Y/n. It’s thanks to us.”

Months had passed, and with each shared moment, your feelings for Kazuha were now real to you, basically official. Every late-night conversation, every stolen glance, every quiet laugh over shared secrets had pulled you closer to her, and it was clear now: you were completely, undeniably in love with her.

One evening, Kazuha’s parents invited you over for dinner, a formal yet comfortable gathering at their home. The dining room was elegantly set, with an array of food laid out on the table. As you sat beside Kazuha, her hand resting discreetly on your knee beneath the table, you tried to focus on the food and polite conversation, but the weight of her parents’ glances didn’t go unnoticed. Something about how they looked at you tonight was different—almost piercing as if they were assessing you anew.

Midway through the meal, Kazuha’s mother, Mitsuko, set down her glass and fixed her gaze on you with a soft, almost too-knowing smile. “Y/n, we wanted to tell you how wonderful you’ve been for Kazuha. We’ve seen her happier and more at ease, especially these last few months. We’re grateful for that.”

Her father, Ichiro, nodded in agreement, though his gaze was more reserved. “Yes. And we noticed your father’s restaurant has been doing much better since… well since it became known that you’re dating our daughter.”

You felt your pulse quicken, sensing a shift in the room. They were putting the pieces together, tracing Kazuha’s involvement in your life and her influence on your father’s business. The implications were there, and you realized they must be questioning if any of this was genuine.

Kazuha’s hand tightened on your knee, a silent reassurance, but you couldn’t ignore how her parents’ gazes seemed to look through you, waiting for an answer. Taking a deep breath, you decided it was time to be honest. You looked at both of them, then turned to Kazuha, the words coming from your heart.

“When Kazuha first asked me to help her… I agreed, partly because my dad was struggling. I knew it was risky and how that might look to you now. But the truth is, I never expected this to happen. I never expected to fall for her.”

The room went silent, and Kazuha’s parents watched you with unreadable expressions. Heart pounding, you looked directly into Kazuha’s eyes, unable to hold back the feelings that had been building over the months. “Kazuha, you’re… so much more than I ever imagined. You’ve been there for me in ways I didn’t even realize I needed. And somewhere along the way, I stopped pretending. I fell in love with you. Completely. I want this—for real, if you do, too.”

Kazuha’s eyes widened, her mouth opening slightly as she took in your words. Her cheeks flushed, and for a brief moment, slightly embarrassed with her parents there. She looked as if she were struggling to breathe. Her eyes began to glisten, and a tear slipped down her cheek, though she made no effort to wipe it away. She reached for your hand, her fingers intertwining with yours as she nodded, a smile trembling on her lips.

“I’ve been hoping you’d say that,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “Because I’ve fallen for you, too, Y/n. And I’m tired of pretending.” Her voice grew stronger, her gaze fierce as she held your hand tightly. “I want this. Us. For real.”

Kazuha’s parents exchanged glances, their expressions softening as they took in the scene before them. Her mother leaned forward, a gentle smile on her face. “Well,” Mitsuko said softly, “it sounds like you two have found something real after all.” She looked at you, her approval evident in her eyes. “We only want what’s best for Kazuha, and if that’s you… then welcome to the family.”

Kazuha’s father nodded, a small but genuine smile gracing his usually serious expression. “Take care of each other, and take this real relationship seriously,” he said simply, with respect in his tone.

As you left that evening, hand in hand with Kazuha, you couldn’t believe how everything had unfolded. The guilt that had weighed on you for so long was gone, replaced by a new feeling—a warmth, security, knowing that this was real. Kazuha leaned her head on your shoulder as you walked. The night air cooled around you, and you smiled, kissing the top of her head.

“Looks like we’re not pretending anymore,” you murmured, and Kazuha laughed softly, her arm wrapping around yours.

“Not even a little bit.”

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